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THE 
 
 LEATHER-STOCKING 
 
 TALE S. 
 
 JAMES FENXMORE COOPER. 
 
 I 
 
 I. THE DEERSLAYER. III. THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 II. THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. IV. THE PIONEERS. 
 
 V. THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, and 5 BOND STREET. 
 
 1 8 8 5 . 
 
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BY 
 
 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. PUBLISHERS 
 
“ Passing his hands round the throat of his victim, he compressed them with the 
 strength of a vice, fairly doubling the head of the Huron over the edge of the platform.” 
 
 The Deers layer, p. 148. 
 

 THE DEERSLAYER 
 
 muzin 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE FIRST WAR-PATH. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 BY 
 
 j. FENIMORE COOPER. 
 
 “ What terrors round him wait ! 
 Amazement in his van, with Flight combined, 
 And Sorrow’s faded form, and Solitude behind.” 
 
 ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS BY F. 0. G DARLEZ 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, and 5 BOND STREET. 
 
 1 8 8 5 . 
 
\ 
 
 » 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, tv 
 D. APPLETON & CO., 
 
 the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 
8/3 
 
 cidj&L 
 
 PBEFACE 
 
 TO THE 
 
 LEATHER-STOCKING- TALES. 
 
 This series of stories, which has obtained the name of “ The Leather-Stocking Tales,” 
 has been written in a very desultory and inartificial manner. The order in which the 
 several hooks appeared was essentially different from that in which they would have 
 been presented to the world, had the regular course of their incidents been consulted. 
 In “The Pioneers,” the first of the series written, the Leather-Stocking is represented 
 as already old, and driven from his early haunts in the forest, by the sound of the axe, 
 and the smoke of the settler. “The Last of the Mohicans,” the next book in the order 
 of publication, carried the readers back to a much earlier period in the history of our 
 hero, representing him as middle-aged, and in the fullest vigor of manhood. In “The 
 Prairie,” his career terminates, and he is laid in his grave. There, it was originally the 
 intention to leave him, in the expectation that, as in the case of the human mass, he 
 would soon be forgotten. But a latent regard for this character induced the author to 
 resuscitate him in “The Path-finder,” a book that was not long after succeeded by “The 
 Deerslayer,” thus completing the series as it now exists. 
 
 "While the five books that have been written were originally published in the order 
 just mentioned, that of the incidents, insomuch as they are connected with the career of 
 their principal character, is, as has been stated, very different. Taking the life of the 
 Leather-Stocking as a guide, “The Deerslayer” should have been the opening book, for 
 in that work he is seen just emerging into manhood; to be .succeeded by “The Last of 
 the Mohicans,” “The Pathfinder,” “The Pioneers,” and “The Prairie.” This arrange- 
 ment embraces the order of events, though far from being that in which the books at 
 first appeared. “The Pioneers” was published in 1822; “The Deerslayer” in 1841; 
 making the interval between them nineteen years. Whether these progressive years 
 have had a tendency to lessen the value of the last-named book, by lessening the native 
 fire of its author, or of adding somewhat in the way of improved taste and a more ma- 
 tured judgment, is for others to decide. 
 
 If any thing from the pen of the writer of these romances is at all to outlive himself, 
 it is, unquestionably, the series of “The Leather-Stocking Tales.” To say this, is not to 
 predict a very lasting reputation for the series itself, but simply to express the belief it 
 will outlast any, or all, of the works from the same hand. 
 
 It is undeniable that the desultory manner in which “ The Leather-Stocking Tales ” 
 were written, has, in a measure, impaired their harmony, and otherwise lessened their 
 interest. This is proved by the fate of the two books last published, though probably 
 the two most worthy an enlightened and cultivated reader’s notice. If the facts could 
 be ascertained, it is probable the result would show that of all those (in America, in par- 
 ticular) who have read the first three books of the series, not one in ten has a knowledge 
 of the existence even of the last two. Several causes have tended to produce this result. 
 The long interval of time between the appearance of “The Prairie” and that of “The 
 Pathfinder,” was itself a reason why the later books of the series should be overlooked, 
 There was no longer novelty to attract attention, and the interest was materially im- 
 paired by the manner in which events were necessarily anticipated, in laying the last of 
 the series first before the world. With the generation that is now coming on the stage this 
 fault will be partially removed by the edition contained in the present work, in which 
 the several tales will be arranged solely in reference to their connection with each other 
 
 The author has often been asked if he had any original in his mind, for the charactei 
 of Leather-Stocking. In a physical sense, different individuals known to the writer in 
 early life, certainly presented themselves as models, through his recollections; but in a 
 
 971979 
 
4 : 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 moral sense this man of the forest is purely a creation. The idea of delineating a char- 
 acter that possessed little of civilization but its highest principles as they are exhibited in 
 the uneducated, and all of savage life that is not incompatible with these great rules of 
 conduct, is perhaps natural to the situation in which Natty was placed. He is too proud 
 of his origin to sink into the condition of the wild Indian, and too much a man of the 
 woods not to imbibe as much as was at all desirable, from his friends and companions. 
 In a moral point of view it was the intention to illustrate the effect of seed scattered by 
 the way-side. To use his own language, his “gifts” were “white gifts,” and he was 
 not disposed to bring on them discredit. On the other hand, removed from nearly all 
 the temptations of civilized life, placed in the best associations of that which is deemed 
 savage, and favorably disposed by nature to improve such advantages, it appeared to the 
 writer that his hero was a fit subject to represent the better qualities of both conditions, 
 without pushing either to extremes. 
 
 There was no violent stretch of the imagination, perhaps, in supposing one of civil- 
 ized associations in childhood, retaining many of his earliest lessons amid the scenes of the 
 forest. Had these early impressions, however, not been sustained by continued though 
 casual connection with men of his own color, if not of his own caste, all our information 
 goes to show he would soon have lost every trace of his origin. It is believed tha* 
 sufficient attention was paid to the particular circumstances in which this individual was 
 placed, to justify the picture of his qualities that lias been drawn. The Delawares 
 early attracted the attention of the missionaries, and were a tribe unusually influenced 
 by their precepts and example. In many instances they became Christians, and cases 
 occurred in which their subsequent lives gave proof of the efficacy of the great moral 
 changes that had taken place within them. 
 
 A leading character in a work of fiction has a fair right to the aid which can be ob- 
 tained from a poetical view of the subject. It is in this view, rather than in one more 
 strictly circumstantial, that Leather-Stocking has been drawn. The imagination has no 
 great task in portraying to itself a being removed from the every-day inducements to 
 err, which abound in civilized life, while he retains the best and simplest of his early 
 impressions ; who sees God in the forest ; hears him in the winds ; bows to him in the 
 firmament that o’ercanopies all ; submits to his sway in an humble belief of his justice 
 and mercy; in a word, a being who finds the impress of the Deity in all the works of 
 Nature, without any of the blots produced by the expedients, and passion, and mistakes 
 of man. This is the most that has been attempted in the character of Leather-Stocking. 
 Had this been done without any of the drawbacks of humanity, the picture would have 
 been, in all probability, more pleasing than just. In order to preserve the vrai serriblable , 
 therefore, traits derived from the prejudices, tastes, and even the weaknesses of his 
 youth, have been mixed up with these higher qualities and longings, in a way, it is 
 hoped, to represent a reasonable picture of human nature, without offering to the 
 spectator a “monster” of goodness. 
 
 It has been objected to these books that they give a more favorable picture of the 
 red man than he deserves. The writer apprehends that much of this objection arises 
 from the habits of those who have made it. One of his critics, on the appearance of 
 the first work in which Indian character was portrayed, objected that its “ characters 
 were Indians of the school of Heckew elder, rather than of the school of Nature.” These 
 words quite probably contain the substance of the true answer to the objection. Heck- 
 ewelder was an ardent, benevolent missionary, bent on the good of the red man, 
 and seeing in him one who had the soul, reason, and characteristics of a fellow-being. 
 The critic is understood to have been a very distinguished agent of the government, one 
 very familiar with Indians, as they are seen at the councils to treat for the sale of theii 
 lands, where little or none of their domestic qualities come in play, and where, indeed, 
 their evil passions are known to have the fullest scope. As just would it be to draw 
 conclusions of the general state of American society from the scenes of the capital, as to 
 suppose that the negotiating of one of these treaties is a fair picture of Indian life. 
 
 It is the privilege of all writers of fiction, more particularly when their works aspire 
 to the elevation of romances, to present the beau ideal of their characters to the reader. 
 This it is which constitutes poetry, and to suppose that the red man is to be represented 
 only in the squalid misery or in the degraded moral state that certainly more or less be- 
 longs to his condition, is, we apprehend, taking a very narrow viewof an author's privi- 
 leges. Such criticism would have deprived the world of even Homer. 
 

 n 1 ■' si c '<jw •'.•r • i> {..< * • j ‘Cu - i;j r,/i5 ‘;o I :(•> 
 
 1 1 jl i l 
 
 • f * ;• • ■ " : - ' ,lru> <• .. ■ . j . ,1 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 As has been stated in the preface to the series of the Leather-Stocking Tales, ‘ The 
 Deerslajer ” is properly the first in the order of reading, though the last in that of pub- 
 lication. In this book the hero is represented as just arriving at manhood, with the 
 freshness of feeling that belongs to that interesting period of life, and with the power 
 to please that properly characterizes youth. As a consequence, he is loved ; and, what 
 denotes the real waywardness of humanity, more than it corresponds with theories and 
 moral propositions, perhaps, he is loved by one full of art, vanity, and weakness, and 
 loved principally for his sincerity, his modesty, and his unerring truth and probity. 
 The preference he gives to the high qualities named, over beauty, delirious passion, and 
 sin, it is hoped, will offer a lesson that can injure none. This portion of the book is 
 intentionally kept down, though it is thought to be sufficiently distinct to convey its 
 moral. 
 
 The intention has been to put the sisters in strong contrast; one admirable in person, 
 clever, filled with the pride of beauty, erring, and fallen ; the other, barely provided 
 with sufficient capacity to know good from evil, instinct, notwithstanding, with the vir- 
 tues of woman, reverencing and loving God, and yielding only to the weakness of her 
 sex, in admiring personal attractions in one too coarse and unobservant to distinguish or 
 to understand her quiet, gentle feeling in his favor. 
 
 As for the scene of this tale, it is intended for, and believed to be a close description 
 of, the Otsego, prior to the year 1760, when the first rude settlement was commenced on 
 its banks, at that time only an insignificant clearing near the outlet, with a small hut of 
 squared logs, for the temporary dwelling of the Deputy Superintendent of Indian Affairs. 
 The recollections of the writer carry him back distinctly to a time when nine-tenths of 
 the shores of this lake were in the virgin forest, a peculiarity that was owing to the 
 circumstance of the roads running through the first range of valleys removed from the 
 water-side. The woods and the mountains have ever formed a principal source of beauty 
 with this charming sheet of water, enough of the former remaining to this day to relieve 
 the open grounds from monotony and tameness. 
 
 In most respects the descriptions of scenery in the tale are reasonably accurate. 
 The rock appointed for the rendezvous between the Deerslayer and his friend the Dela- 
 ware still remains, bearing the name of the Otsego Rock. The shoal on which flutter 
 is represented as having built his “ castle ” is a little misplaced, lying, in fact, nearer to 
 
6 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the northern end of the lake, as well as to the eastern shore, than is stated in this hook. 
 Such a sfyoaL however, exists, surrounded on all sides by deep water. In the driest 
 seasons a lew rocks are seen above the surface of the lake, and rushes, at most periods 
 of the year, mark its locality. In a word, in all but precise position, even this feature 
 of the book is accurate. The same is true of the several points introduced, of the bay, 
 of the river, of the mountains, and all the other accessories of the place. 
 
 The legend is purely fiction, no authority existing for any of its facts, characters, or 
 other peculiarities, beyond that which was thought necessary to secure the semblance 
 of reality. Truth compels us to admit that the book has attracted very little notice, and 
 that if its merits are to be computed by its popularity, the care that has been bestowed 
 on this edition might as well be spared. Such, at least, has been its fate in America ; 
 whether it has met with better success in any other country we have no means of 
 knowing. 
 
THE DEERSLAYER 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 * There Is a pleasure in the pathless woods, 
 
 There is a rapture on the lonely shore, 
 
 There is society where none intrudes, 
 
 By the deep sea, and music in its roar ; 
 
 I love not man the less, but Nature more, 
 
 From these our interviews, in which I steal, 
 
 From all I may be, or have been before, 
 
 To mingle with the universe, and feel 
 
 What I can ne’er express, yet cannot all conceal. 
 
 Childe Harold. 
 
 On the human imagination, events produce 
 the effects of time. Thus, he who has travelled 
 far and seen much, is apt to fancy that he has 
 lived long ; and the history that most abounds in 
 important incidents, soonest assumes the aspect 
 of antiquity. In no other way can we account 
 for the venerable air that is already gathering 
 around American annals. When the mind re- 
 verts to the earliest days of colonial history, the 
 period seems remote and obscure, the thousand 
 changes that thicken along the links of recollec- 
 tions, throwing back the origin of the nation to a 
 day so distant as seemingly to reach the mists of 
 time ; and yet four lives of ordinary duration 
 would suffice to transmit, from mouth to mouth, 
 in the form of tradition, all that civilized man 
 has achieved within the limits of the republic. 
 Although New York alone possesses a population 
 materially exceeding that of either of the four 
 smallest kingdoms of Europe, or materially ex- 
 ceeding that of the entire Swiss Confederation, it 
 is little more than two centuries since the Dutch 
 commenced their settlement, rescuing the region 
 from the savage state. Thus, what seems vener- 
 able by an accumulation of changes, is reduced to 
 familiarity when we come seriously to consider it 
 solely in connection with time. 
 
 This glance into the perspective of the past 
 will prepare the reader to look at the pictures we 
 
 are about to sketch, with less surprise than ha 
 might otherwise feel ; and a few additional ex- 
 planations may carry him back in imagination to 
 the precise condition of society that we desire to 
 delineate. It is matter of history that the settle- 
 ments on the eastern shores of the Hudson, such 
 as Claverack, Kinderhook, and even Poughkeep- 
 sie, were not regarded as safe from Indian incur- 
 sions a century since ; and there is still standing 
 on the banks of the same river, and within mus- 
 ket-shot of the wharves of Albany, a residence of 
 a younger branch* of the Yan Rensselaers, that 
 has loop-holes constructed for defence against 
 the same crafty enemy, although it dates from a 
 period scarcely so distant. Other similar me- 
 morials of the infancy of the country are to be 
 found, scattered through what is now deemed the 
 very centre of American civilization, affording 
 the plainest proofs that all we possess of security 
 from invasion and hostile violence is the growth 
 of but little more than the time that is frequently 
 filled by a single human life. 
 
 The incidents of this tale occurred between 
 the years 1740 and 1745, when the settled por- 
 tions of the colony of New York were confined tc 
 the four Atlantic counties, a narrow belt of coun- 
 try on each side of the Hudson, extending from 
 its mouth to the falls near its head, and to a few 
 advanced “ neighborhoods ” on the Mohawk and 
 the Schoharie. Broad belts of the virgin wilder- 
 ness not only reached the shores of the first river, 
 but they even crossed it, stretching away into 
 N ew England, and affording forest covers to the 
 noiseless moccasin of the native warrior, as he 
 trod the secret and bloody war-path. A bird’s- 
 eye view of the whole region east of the Missis- 
 sippi must then have offered one vast expanse of 
 
 * It is no more than justice to say that the Greenbush 
 Van Bensselaers claim to be the oldest branch of trun 
 ancient and respectable family. 
 
8 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 woods, relieved by a comparatively narrow fringe 
 of cultivation along the sea, dotted by the glit- 
 tering surfaces of lakes, and intersected by the 
 waving lines of rivers. In such a vast picture of 
 solemn solitude, the district of country we design 
 to paint sinks into insignificance, though we feel 
 encouraged to proceed by the conviction that } 
 with slight and immaterial distinctions, he who 
 succeeds in giving an accurate idea of any portion 
 of this wild region must necessarily convey a tol- 
 erably correct notion of the whole. 
 
 Whatever may be the changes produced by 
 man, the eternal round of the seasons is un- 
 broken. Summer and winter, seed-time and har- 
 vest, return in their stated order, with a sublime 
 precision, affording to man one of the noblest of 
 all the occasions he enjoys of proving the high 
 powers of his far-reaching mind, in compassing 
 the laws that control their exact uniformity, and 
 in calculating their never-ending revolutions. 
 Centuries of summer suns had warmed the tops 
 of the same noble oaks and pines, sending their 
 heats even to the tenacious roots, when voices 
 were heard calling to each other, in the depths 
 of a forest, of which the leafy surface lay bathed 
 in the brilliant light of a cloudless day in June, 
 while the trunks of the trees rose in gloomy 
 grandeur in the shades beneath. The calls were 
 in different tones, evidently proceeding from two 
 men who had lost their way, and were searching 
 in different directions for their path. At length 
 a shout proclaimed success, and presently a man 
 of gigantic mould broke out of the tangled laby- 
 rinth of a small swamp, emerging into an opening 
 that appeared to have been formed partly by the 
 ravages of the wi^d, and partly by those of fire. 
 This little area, which afforded a good view of the 
 sky, although it was pretty well filled with dead 
 trees, lay on the side of one of the high hills, or 
 'low mountains, into which nearly the whole sur- 
 face of the adjacent country was broken. 
 
 “ Here is room to breathe in ! ” exclaimed 
 the liberated forester, as soon as he found him- 
 self under a clear sky, shaking his huge frame 
 like a mastiff that has just escaped from a snow- 
 bank. “ Hurrah ! Deerslayer ; here is daylight, 
 at last, and yonder is the lake.” 
 
 These words were scarcely uttered when the 
 second forester dashed aside the bushes of the 
 swamp, and appeared in the area. After making 
 a hurried adjustment of his arms and disordered 
 dress, he joined his companion, who had already 
 begun his dispositions for a halt. 
 
 “Do you know this spot?” demanded the 
 one called Deerslayer, “ or do you shout at the 
 sight of the sun ? ” 
 
 “ Both, lad, both ; I know the spot, and am 
 not sorry to see so useful a friend as the sun. 
 Now we have got the p’ints of the compass in 
 our minds once more, and ’twill be our own faults 
 if we let any thing turn them topsy-turvy ag’in, as 
 has just happened. My name is not Hurry Harry, 
 if this be not the very spot where the land-hunt- 
 ers ’camped the last summer, and passed a week. 
 See, yonder are the dead bushes of their bower, 
 and here is the spring. Much as I like the sun 
 boy, I’ve no occasion for it to tell me it is noon 
 this stomach of mine is as good a time-piece as is 
 to be found in the colony, and it already p’ints to 
 half-past twelve. So open the wallet, and let us 
 wind up for another six hours’ run.” 
 
 At this suggestion, both set themselves about 
 making the preparations necessary for their usual 
 frugal but hearty meal. We will profit by this 
 pause in the discourse to give the reader some 
 idea of the appearance of the men, each of whom 
 is destined to enact no insignificant part in our 
 legend. It would not have been easy to find a 
 more noble specimen of vigorous manhood, than 
 was offered in the person of him who called him- 
 self Hurry Harry. His real name was Henry 
 March ; but the frontier-men having caught the 
 practice of giving sobriquets from the Indians, 
 the appellation of Hurry was far oftener applied 
 to him than his proper designation, and not un- 
 frequently he was termed Hurry Skurry, a nick- 
 name he had obtained from a dashing, reckless, 
 off-hand manner, and a physical restlessness that 
 kept him so constantly on the move, as to cause 
 him to be known along the whole line of scat- 
 tered habitations that lay between the province 
 and the Canadas. The stature of Hurry Harry 
 exceeded six feet four, and being unusually well 
 proportioned, his strength fully realized the idea 
 created by his gigantic frame. The face did no 
 discredit to the rest of the man, for it was both 
 good-humored and handsome. His air was free, 
 and, though his manner necessarily partook of 
 the rudeness of a border-life, the grandeur that 
 pervaded so noble a physique prevented it from 
 becoming altogether vulgar. 
 
 Deerslayer, as Hurry called his companion, 
 was a very different person in appearance, as well 
 as in character. In stature, he stood about six 
 feet in his moccasins, but his frame v'as com- 
 paratively light and slender, showing muscles, 
 however, that promised unusual agility, if not un- 
 usual strength. His face would have had little 
 to recommend it except youth, were it not for an 
 expression that seldom failed to win upon those 
 who had leisure to examine it, and to yield to the 
 feeling of confidence it created. This expression 
 
HURRY HARRY AND HIS COMPANION. 
 
 9 
 
 was simply that of guileless truth, sustained by 
 an earnestness of purpose, and a sincerity of 
 feeling, that rendered it remarkable. At times 
 this air of integrity seemed to be so simple as to 
 awaken the suspicion of a want of the usual 
 means to discriminate between artifice and truth ; 
 but few came in serious contact with the man, 
 without losing this distrust in respect for his opin- 
 ions and motives. 
 
 Both these frontier-men were still young, Hur- 
 ry having reached the age of six or eight and 
 twenty, while Deerslayer was several years his 
 junior. Their attire needs no particular descrip- 
 tion, though it may be well to add that it was 
 composed, in no small degree, of dressed deer- 
 skins, and had the usual signs of belonging to 
 those who pass their time between the skirts of 
 civilized society and the boundless forests. There 
 was, notwithstanding, some attention to smartness 
 and the picturesque in the arrangements of Deer- 
 slayer’s dress, more particularly with the part 
 connected with his arms and accoutrements. 
 His rifle was in perfect condition, the handle of 
 his liunting-knife was neatly carved, his powder- 
 horn was ornamented with suitable devices lightly 
 cut into the material, and his shot-pouch was deco- 
 rated with wampum. On the other hand, Hurry 
 Harry, either from constitutional recklessness, or 
 from a secret consciousness how little his appear- 
 ance required artificial aids, wore every thing in a 
 careless, slovenly manner, as if he felt a noble 
 scorn for the trifling accessories of dress and or- 
 naments. Perhaps the peculiar effect of his fine 
 form and great stature was increased, rather than 
 lessened, by this unstudied and disdainful air of 
 indifference. 
 
 “ Come, Deerslayer, fall to, and prove that you 
 have a Delaware stomach, as you say you have 
 had a Delaware edication,” cried Hurry, setting 
 the example by opening his mouth to receive a 
 slice of cold venison-steak that would have made 
 an entire meal for a European peasant ; “ fall to, 
 lad, and prove your manhood on this poor devil 
 of a doe, with your teeth, as you’ve already done 
 with your rifle.” 
 
 “Nay, nay, Hurry, there’s little manhood in 
 killing a doe, and that too out of season ; though 
 there might be some in bringing down a painter 
 or a catamount,” returned the other, disposing 
 himself to comply. “ The Delawares have given 
 me my name, not so much on account of a bold 
 heart, as on account of a quick eye and an active 
 foot. There may not be any cowardice in over- 
 coming a deer, but, sartin it is, there’s no great 
 valor.” 
 
 “ The Delawares, themselves, are no keroes,” 
 
 muttered Hurry through his teeth, the mouth be- 
 ing too full to permit it to be fairly opened, “ or 
 they never would have allowed them loping vaga- 
 bonds, the Mingoes, to make them women.” 
 
 “ That matter is not rightly understood — has 
 never been rightly explained,” said Deerslayer, 
 earnestly, for he was as zealous a friend as hi* 
 companion was dangerous as an enemy; “the 
 Mengwe fill the woods with their lies, and mis- 
 construct words and treaties. I have now lived 
 ten years with the Delawares, and know them to 
 be as manful as any other nation, when the prop- 
 er time to strike comes.” 
 
 “ Harkee, Master Deerslayer, since we are on 
 the subject, we may as well open our minds to 
 each other in a man-to-man way ; answer me one 
 question : you have had so much luck among the 
 game as to have gotten a title, it would seem, but 
 did you ever hit any thing human or intelligible ? 
 did you ever pull trigger on an iniray that was 
 capable of pulling one upon you ? ” 
 
 This question produced a singular collision 
 between mortification and correct feeling, in the 
 bosom of the youth, that was easily to be traced 
 in the workings of his ingenuous countenance. 
 The struggle was short, however ; uprightness of 
 heart soon getting the better of false pride and 
 frontier boastfulness. 
 
 “ To own the truth, I never did,” answered 
 Deerslayer ; “ seeing that a fitting occasion nev- 
 er offered. The Delawares have been peaceable 
 since my sojourn with ’em, and I hold it to be 
 onlawful to take the life of man, except in open 
 and generous warfare.” 
 
 “ What ! did you never find a fellow thieving 
 among your traps and skins, and do the law on 
 him with your own hands, by way of saving the 
 magistrates trouble, in the settlements, and the 
 rogue himself the cost of the suit ? ” 
 
 “ I am no trapper, Hurry,” returned the young 
 man, proudly ; “ I live by the rifle, a we’pon at 
 which I will not turn my back on any man of my 
 years, atween the Hudson and the St. Lawrence. 
 I never offer a skin that has not a hole in its head 
 besides them which Natur’ made to see with, or to 
 breathe through.” 
 
 “Ay, ay, this is all very well, in the animal 
 way, though it makes but a poor figure alongside 
 of scalps and and-bushes. Shooting an Indian 
 from an and-bush is acting up to his own princi- 
 ples, and, now we have what you call a lawful 
 war on our hands, the sooner you wipe that dis- 
 grace off your character, the sounder will be your 
 sleep, if it only come from knowing there is one 
 inimy the less prowling in the woods. I shall not 
 frequent your society »ong, friend Natty, unless 
 
10 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER 
 
 you look higher than four-footed beasts to prac- 
 tise your rifle on.” 
 
 “ Our journey is nearly ended, you say, Mas- 
 ter March, and we can part to-night, if you see 
 occasion. I have a fri’nd waiting for me, who 
 will think it no disgrace to consort with a fellow- 
 ereatur’ that has never yet slain his kind.” 
 
 “ I wish I knew what has brought that skulk- 
 ing Delaware into this part of the country so 
 early in the season,” muttered Hurry to himself, 
 in a way to show equally distrust and a reckless- 
 ness of its betrayal. “Where did you say the 
 young chief was to give you the meeting? ” 
 
 “ At a small, round rock, near the foot of the 
 lake, where, they tell me, the tribes are given to 
 resorting to make their treaties, and to bury their 
 hatchets. This rock have I often heard the Del- 
 awares mention, though lake and rock are equally 
 strangers to me. The country is claimed by both 
 Mingoes and Mohicans, and is a sort of common 
 territory to fish and hunt through, in time of 
 peace, though what it may become in war-time 
 the Lord only knows ! ” 
 
 “ Common territory ! ” exclaimed Hurry, laugh- 
 ing aloud. “ I should like to know what Floating 
 Tom Hutter would say to that ? He claims the 
 lake as his own property, in vartue of fifteen 
 years’ possession, and will not be likely to give it 
 up to either Mingo or Delaware without a battle 
 for it.” 
 
 “And what will the colony say to such a 
 quarrel ? All this country must have some own- 
 er, the gentry pushing their cravings into the wil- 
 derness, even where they never dare to ventur’, 
 in their own persons, to look at the land they 
 own.” 
 
 “ That may do in other quarters of the colo- 
 ny, Deerslayer, but it will not do here. Not a 
 human being, the Lord excepted, owns a foot of 
 s’ile in this part of the country. Pen was never 
 put to paper, consaming either hill or valley, 
 hereaway, as I’ve heard old Tom say, time and 
 ag’in, and so he claims the best right to it of any 
 man breathing; and what Tom claims, he’ll be 
 very likely to maintain.” 
 
 “By what I’ve heard, Hurry, this Floating 
 Tom must be an oncommon mortal ; neither Min- 
 go, Delaware, nor pale-face. His possession, too, 
 has been long, by your tell, and altogether be- 
 yond frontier endurance. What’s the man’s his- 
 tory and natur’ ? ” 
 
 “ Why, as to old Tom’s human natur’, it is not 
 much like other men’s human natur’, but more 
 Hke a musk-rat’s human natur’, seeing that he 
 takes more to the ways of that animal than to 
 the ways of any other fellow-creatur’. Some 
 
 think he was a free livei on the salt water, in hia 
 youth, and a companion of a sartin Kidd, who 
 was hanged for piracy, long afore you and J 
 were born or acquainted, and that he came 
 up into these regions, thinking that the king’s 
 cruisers could never cross the mountains, and 
 that he might enjoy the plunder peaceably in the 
 woods.” 
 
 “ Then he was wrong, Hurry — very wrong. 
 A man can enjoy plunder peaceably nowhere.” 
 
 “ That’s much as his turn of mind may hap- 
 pen to be. I’ve known them that never could 
 enjoy it at all, unless it was in the midst of a 
 jollification, and them ag’in that enjoyed it best in 
 a corner. Some men have no peace if they don’t 
 find plunder, and some if they do. Human natur’ 
 is crooked in these matters. Old Tom seems to 
 belong to neither set, as he enjoys his, if plunder 
 he has really got, with his darters, in a very 
 quiet and comfortable way, and wishes for no 
 more.” 
 
 “ Ay, he has darters, too ; I’ve heard the 
 Delawares, who’ve hunted this-a-way, tell their 
 histories of these young women. Is there no 
 mother, Hurry ? ” 
 
 “ There was once, as in reason , but she has 
 now been dead and sunk these two good years.” 
 
 “ Anan ? ” said Deerslayer, looking up at his 
 companion in a little surprise. 
 
 “ Dead and sunk, I say, and I hope that’s good 
 English. The old fellow lowered his wife into the 
 lake, by way of seeing the last of her, as I can 
 testify, being an eye-witness of the ceremony ; 
 but whether Tom did it to save digging, which is 
 no easy job among roots, or (rtit of a consait that 
 water washes away sin sooner than ’arth, is more 
 than I can say.” 
 
 “ Was the poor woman oncommon wicked, 
 that her husband should take so much pains with 
 her body ? ” 
 
 “Not onreasonable ; though she had her 
 faults. I consider Judith Hutter to have been as 
 graceful, and about as likely to make a good ind, 
 as any woman who had lived so long beyond the 
 sound of church-bells ; and I conclude old Tom 
 sunk her as much by way of saving pains, as by 
 way of talcing it. There was a little steel in her 
 temper, it’s true, and, as old Hutter is pretty 
 much flint, they struck out sparks once-and-a 
 while ; but, on the whole, they might be said to 
 live amicable-like. When they did kindle, the 
 listeners got some such insights into their past 
 lives as one gets into the darker parts of the 
 woods, when a stray gleam of sunshine finds its 
 way down to the roots of the trees. But Judith 
 I shall always esteem, as it’s recommend enough 
 
OLD TOM MUTTER’S DAUGHTERS. 
 
 11 
 
 to one woman to bo the mother of such a crea- 
 tin'’ as her darter, Judith Hutter ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, Judith was the name the Delawares 
 mentioned, though it was pronounced after a 
 fashion of their own. From their discourse, I do 
 not think the girl would much please my fancy.” 
 
 “Thy fancy ! ” exclaimed March, taking fire 
 equally at the indifference and at the presump- 
 tion of his companion, “ what the devil have you 
 to do with a fancy, and that, too, consarning one 
 like Judith ? You are but a boy — a sapling, that 
 has scarce got root. Judith has had tfien among 
 her suitors, ever since she was fifteen ; which is 
 now near five years ; and will not be apt even to 
 cast a look upon a half-grown creatur’ like you ! ” 
 
 “ It is June, and there is not a cloud atween 
 us and the sun, Hurry, so all this heat is not 
 wanted,” answered the other, altogether undis- 
 turbed ; “ any one may have a fancy, and a squir- 
 rel has a right to make up his mind touching a 
 catamount.” 
 
 “ Ay, but it might not be wise, always, to let 
 the catamount know it,” growled March. “ But 
 you’re young and thoughtless, and I’ll overlook 
 your ignorance. Come, Deerslayer,” he added, 
 with a good-natured laugh, after pausing a mo- 
 ment to reflect, “ come, Deerslayer, we are sworn 
 fri’nds, and will not quarrel about a light-minded, 
 jilting jade, just because she happens to be hand- 
 some ; more especially as you have never seen 
 her. Judith is only for a man whose teeth show 
 the full marks, and it’s foolish to be afeard of a 
 boy. What did the Delawares say of the hussy ; 
 for an Indian, after all, has his notions of woman- 
 kind, as well as a white man ? ” 
 
 * “ They said she was fair to look on, and 
 pleasant of speech ; but over-given to admirers, 
 and light-minded.” 
 
 “ They are devils incarnate ! After all, what 
 school-master is a match for an Indian, in looking 
 into natur’ ? Some people think they are only 
 good on a trail or the war-path, but I say that 
 they are philosophers, and understand a man as 
 well as they understand a beaver, and a woman 
 as well as they understand either. Now, that’s 
 Judith s character to a ribbon! To own the 
 truth to you, Deerslayer, I should have married 
 the gal two years since, if it had not been for 
 two particular things, one of which was this very 
 light-mindedness.” 
 
 “ And what may have been the other ? ” de- 
 ar anded the hunter, who continued to eat like 
 one that took very little interest in the subject. 
 
 “T’other was an insartainty about her having 
 me. The hussy is handsome, and she knows it. 
 Boy, not a tree that is growing in these hills is 
 
 | straighter, or waves in the wind with an easier 
 bend, nor did you ever see the doe that bounded 
 with a more nat’ral motion. If that was all, 
 every tongue would sound her praises ; but she 
 has such failings that I find it hard to overlook 
 them, and sometimes I swear I’ll never visit the 
 lake ag’in 
 
 “ Which is the reason that you always come 
 back. Nothing is ever made more sure by 
 swearing about it.” 
 
 “ Ah, Deerslayer, you are a novelty in these 
 partic’lars ; keeping as true to edication as if you 
 had never left the settlements. With me the case 
 is different, and I never want to clinch an idee, 
 that I do not feel a wish to swear about it. If 
 you know’d all that I know consarning Judith, 
 you’d find a justification for a little cussing. 
 Now, the officers sometimes stray over to the 
 lake, from the forts on the Mohawk, to fish and 
 hunt, and the creatur’ seems beside herself! You 
 can see it in the manner in which she wears her 
 finery, and the airs she gives herself witn the 
 gallants.” 
 
 “ That is unseemly in a poor man’s darter,” 
 returned Deerslayer, gravely ; “ the officers are all 
 gentry, and can only look on such as Judith with 
 evil intentions.” 
 
 “ There’s the unsartinty, and the damper ! I 
 have my misgivings about a particular captain, 
 and Jude has no one to blame but her own folly, 
 if I’m wrong. On the whole, I wish to look upon 
 her as modest and becoming, and yet the clouds 
 that drive among these hills are not more unsar- 
 tain. Not a dozen white men have ever laid eyes 
 upon her since she w r as a child, and yet her airs, 
 with two or three of these officers, are extinguish- 
 ers ! ” 
 
 “ I would think no more of such a woman, 
 but turn my mind altogether to the forest ; that 
 will not deceive you, being ordered and ruled by 
 a hand that never wavers.” 
 
 “ If you know’d Judith, you would see how 
 much easier it is to say this than it would be to 
 do it Could I bring my mind to be easy about 
 the officers, I would carry the gal off to the Mo- 
 hawk by force, make her marry me in spite of 
 her whiffling, and leave old Tom to the care of 
 Hetty, his other child, who, if she be not as 
 handsome or as quick-witted as her sister, is much 
 the most dutiful.” 
 
 “ Is there another bird in the same nest ? ” 
 asked Deerslayer, raising his eyes with a species 
 of half-awakened curiosity — “the Delawares 
 spoke to me only of one.” 
 
 “ That’s nat’ral enough", when Judith Hutter 
 and Hetty Hutter are in question. Hetty is only 
 
12 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 comely, while her sister, I tell thee, boy, is such 
 another as is not to be found atween this and 
 the sea : Judith is as full of wit, and talk, and 
 cunning, as an old Indian orator, while poor 
 Hetty is at the best but ‘ compass meant us.’ ” 
 
 “ Anan ? ” inquired, again, the Deerslayer. 
 
 “ Why, what the officers call ‘ compass meant 
 ns,’ which I understand to signify that she means 
 always to go in the right direction, but sometimes 
 doesn’t know how. ‘ Compass ’ for the p’int, and 
 ‘ meant us ’ for the intention. No, poor Hetty is 
 what I call on the verge of ignorance, and some- 
 times she stumbles on one side of the line, and 
 sometimes on t’other.” 
 
 “ Them are beings that the Lord has in His 
 ’special care,” said Deerslayer, solemnly; “for 
 he looks carefully to all who fall short of their 
 proper share of reason. The red-skins honor and 
 respect them who are so gifted, knowing that the 
 Evil Spirit delights more to dwell in an artful 
 body than in one that has no cunning to work 
 upon.” 
 
 “ I’ll answer for it, then, that he will not re- 
 main long with poor Hetty — for the child is just 
 ‘ compass meant us,’ as I have told you. Old 
 Tom has a feeling for the gal, and so has Judith, 
 quick-witted and glorious as she is herself ; else 
 would I not answer for her being altogether safe 
 among the sort of men that sometimes meet on 
 the lake-shore.” 
 
 “ I thought this water an onknown and little- 
 frequented sheet,” observed the Deerslayer, evi- 
 dently uneasy at the idea of being too near the 
 world. 
 
 “ It’s all that, lad, the eyes of twenty white 
 men never having been laid on it ; still, twenty 
 true-bred frontier-men — hunters, and trappers, and 
 scouts, and the like — can do a deal of mischief if 
 they try. ’Twould be an awful thing to me, Deer- 
 slayer, did I find Judith married after an absence 
 of six months ! ” 
 
 “ Have you the gal’s faith, to encourage you 
 to hope otherwise ? ” 
 
 “ Not at all. I know not how it is — I’m good- 
 looking, boy ; that much I can see in any spring 
 on which the sun shines — and yet I could never 
 get the hussy to a promise, or even a cordial, will- 
 ing smile, though she will laugh by the hour. If 
 she has dared to marry in my absence, she’ll be 
 like to know the pleasures of widowhood afore she 
 fa twenty ! ” 
 
 “ You would not harm the man she had chosen, 
 Hurry, simply because she found him more to her 
 liking than yourself? ” 
 
 “ Why not ? If an inimy crosses my path, 
 wiil T not beat him out of it ? Look at me — am 
 
 I a man like to let any sneaking, crawling, skin- 
 trader get the better of me in a matter that 
 touches me as near as the kindness of Judith 
 Hutter ? Besides, when we live beyond law, we 
 must be our own judges and executioners. And 
 if a man should be found dead in the woods, who 
 is there to say w r ho slew him, even admitting that 
 the colony took the matter in hand and made a 
 stir about it ? ” 
 
 “ If that man should be Judith Butter’s hus- 
 band, after wdiat has passed, I might tell enough, 
 at least, to put the colony on the trail.” 
 
 “You ! — half - grown, venison - hunting bant- 
 ling! You dare to think of informing against 
 Hurry Harry in so much as a matter touching a 
 mink or a woodchuck ! ” 
 
 “ I would dare to speak truth, Hurry, consarn- 
 ing you, or any man that ever lived.” 
 
 March looked at his companion for a moment 
 in silent amazement ; then, seizing him by the 
 throat with both hands, he shook his compara- 
 tivcly-slight frame with a violence that menaced 
 the dislocation of some of the bones. Nor was 
 this done jocularly, for anger flashed from the 
 giant’s eyes, and there were certain signs that 
 seemed to threaten much more earnestness than 
 the occasion would appear to call for. Whatever 
 might be the real intention of March, and it is 
 probable there was none settled in his mind, it i3 
 certain that he was unusually aroused ; and most 
 men who found themselves throttled by one of a 
 mould so gigantic in such a mood, and in a soli- 
 tude so deep and helpless, would have felt intimi- 
 dated, and tempted to yield even the right. Not 
 so, however, with Deerslayer. His countenance 
 remained unmoved ; his hand did not shake, and 
 •his answer was given in a voice that did not re- 
 sort to the artifice of louder tones, even by way 
 of proving its owner’s resolution. 
 
 “You may shake, Hurry, until you bring 
 down the mountain,” he said, quietly, “ but noth- 
 ing besides truth will you shake from me. It is 
 probable that Judith Hutter has no husband to 
 slay, and you may never have a chance to waylay 
 one, else would I tell her of your threat in the 
 first conversation I held with the gal.” 
 
 March released his gripe, and sat regarding 
 the other in silent astonishment. 
 
 “ I thought we had been friends,” he at length 
 added — “ but you’ve got the last secret of mice 
 that will ever enter your ears.” 
 
 “ I want none, if they are to be like this. I 
 know we live in the woods, Hurry, and are thought 
 to be beyond human laws— and perhaps we are 
 so, in fact, whatever it may be in right — but there 
 is a law, and a law-maker, that rule across the 
 
DEERSLAYER’S SAGACITY. 
 
 13 
 
 whole continent. He that flies in the face of 
 either, need not call me fri’nd.” 
 
 “ Damme, Deerslayer, if I do not believe you 
 are, at heart, a Moravian, and no fair-minded, 
 plain-dealing hunter, as you’ve pretended to 
 be !” 
 
 “ Fair-minded or not, Hurry, you will find me 
 as plain dealing in deeds as I am in words. But 
 this giving way to sudden anger is foolish, and 
 proves how little you have sojourned with the red 
 man. Judith Hutter no doubt is still single, and 
 you spoke but as the tongue ran, and not as the 
 heart felt. There’s my hand, and we will say and 
 think no more about it.” 
 
 Hurry seemed more surprised than ever ; then 
 he burst forth in a loud, good-natured laugh, 
 which brought tears to his eyes. After this, he 
 accepted the offered hand, and the parties became 
 friends. 
 
 “ ’Twould have been foolish to quarrel about 
 an idee,” March cried, as he resumed his meal, 
 “ and more like lawyers in the towns, than like 
 sensible men in the woods. They tell me, Deer- 
 slayer, much ill blood grows out of idees among 
 the people in the lower counties, and that they 
 sometimes get to extremities upon them.” 
 
 “ That do they — that do they ; and about 
 other matters that might better be left to take 
 care of themselves. I have heard the Moravians 
 say that there are lands in which men quarrel 
 even consaming their religion ; and if they can 
 get their tempers up on such a subject, Hurry, 
 the Lord have marcy on ’em ! Howsever, there is 
 no occasion for our following their example, and 
 more especially about a husband that this Judith 
 Hutter may never see, or never wish to see. For 
 my part, I feci more cur’osity about the feeble- 
 witted sister than about your beauty. There’s 
 something that comes close to a man’s feelin’s, 
 when he meets with a fellow-creatur’ that has all 
 the outward show of an accountable mortal, and 
 who fails of being what he seems only through a 
 lack of reason. This is bad enough in a man, but 
 when it comes to a woman, and she a young, and 
 maybe a winning creatur’, it touches all the piti- 
 ful thoughts his natur’ has. God knows, Hurry, 
 that such poor things be defenceless enough with 
 all their wits about ’em ; but it’s a cruel fortun’ 
 when that great protector and guide fails ’em.” 
 
 “ Harkee, Deerslayer — you know what the 
 hunters, and trappers, and peltry-men in general 
 be ; and their best friends will not deny that they 
 are headstrong and given to having their own 
 way, without much bethinking ’em of other peo- 
 ple’s rights or feelin’s — and yet I don’t think the 
 man is to be found, in all this region, who would 
 
 harm Hetty Hutter if he could ; no, not even a 
 red-skin.” 
 
 “ Therein, fri’nd Hurry, you do the Delawares, 
 at least, and all their allied tribes, only justice, 
 for a red-skin looks upon a being thus struck by 
 God’s power, as especially under his care. I re- 
 joice to hear what you say, howsever, I rejoice 
 to hear it ; but as the sun is beginning to turn 
 toward the a’ternoon’s sky, had we not better 
 strike the trail ag’in, and make forward, that we 
 may get an opportunity of seeing these wonderful 
 sisters ? ” 
 
 Harry March giving a cheerful assent, the rem- 
 nants of the meal were soon collected ; then the 
 travellers shouldered their packs, resumed their 
 arms, and, quitting the little area of light, they 
 again plunged into the deep shadows of the forest. 
 
 'CHAPTER II. 
 
 “ Thou’rt passing from the lake’s green side, 
 
 And the hunter’s hearth away ; 
 
 For the time of flowers, for the summer’s pride, 
 Daughter I thou canst not stay.” 
 
 Records op "Woman. 
 
 Our two adventurers had not far to go. Hur- 
 ry knew the direction, as soon as he had found 
 the open spot and the spring, and he now led on 
 with the confident step of a man assured of his 
 object. The forest was dark, as a matter of 
 course, but it was no longer obstructed by under- 
 brush, and the footing was firm and dry. After 
 proceeding near a mile, March stopped, and be- 
 gan to cast about him with an inquiring look, ex- 
 amining the different objects with care, and oc- 
 casionally turning his eyes on the trunks of the 
 fallen trees, with which the ground was well 
 sprinkled, as is usually the case in an American 
 wood, especially in those parts of the country 
 where timber has not yet become valuable. 
 
 “ This must be the place, Deerslayer,” March 
 at length observed ; “ here is a beech by the side 
 of a hemlock, with three pines at hand, and yon- 
 der is a white birch with a broken top ; and yet 
 I see no rock, nor any of the branches bent down, 
 as I told you would be the case.” 
 
 “Broken branches are onskilful landmarks, 
 as the least exper’enced know that branches don’t 
 often break of themselves,” returned the other ; 
 “ and they also lead to suspicion and discoveries. 
 The Delawares never trust to broken branches, 
 unless it is in friendly times, and on an open 
 trail. As for the beeches, and pines, and hem- 
 locks, why, they are to be seen on all sides of 
 
14 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 us, not only by twos and threes, but by forties, 
 and fifties, and hundreds.” 
 
 “Very true, Deerslayer, but you never calcu- 
 late on position. Here is a beech and a hem- 
 lock—” 
 
 “Yes, and there is another beech and a hem- 
 lock, as loving as two brothers, or, for that mat- 
 ter, more loving than some brothers ; and yonder 
 are others, for neither tree is a rarity in these 
 woods. I fear me, Hurry, you are better at trap- 
 ping beaver and shooting bears, than at leading 
 on a blindish sort of a trail. Ha ! there’s what 
 you wish to find, a’ ter all ! ” 
 
 “ Now, Deerslayer, this is one of your Dela- 
 ware pretensions, for, hang me if I see any thing 
 but these trees, which do seem to start up around 
 us, in a most onaccountable and perplexing man- 
 ner.” 
 
 “ Look this-a-way, Hurry — here, in a line with 
 the black oak — don’t you see the crooked sap- 
 ling that is hooked up in the branches of the 
 basswood, near it ? Now, that sapling was once 
 snow-ridden, and got the bend by its weight ; but 
 it never straightened itself, and fastened itself in 
 among the basswood branches in the way you 
 see. The hand of man did that act of kindness 
 for it. ’ 
 
 “ That hand was mine ! ” exclaimed Hurry ; 
 “ I found the slender young thing bent to the 
 airth, like an unfortunate creatur’ borne down by 
 misfortune, and stuck it up where you see it. 
 After all, Deerslayer, I must allow, you’re getting 
 to have an oncommon good eye for the woods ! ” 
 
 “ ’Tis improving, Hurry — ’tis improving, I 
 will acknowledge ; but ’tis still only a child’s eye, 
 compared to some I know. There’s Tamenund, 
 now, though a man so old that few remember 
 when he was in his prime, Tamenund lets nothing 
 escape his look, which is more like the scent of a 
 hound than the sight of an eye. Then Uncas,* 
 the father of Chingachgook, and the lawful chief 
 of the Mohicans, is another that it is almost hope- 
 less to pass unseen. I’m improving, I will allow 
 — I’m improving, but far from being perfect, as 
 yet.” 
 
 “And who is this Chingachgook, of whom 
 you talk so much, Deerslayer ? ” asked Hurry, as 
 he moved off in the direction of the righted sap- 
 ling ; “a loping red-skin, at the best, I make no 
 question.” 
 
 “Not so, Hurry, but the best of loping red- 
 «kins, as you call ’em. If he had his rights, he 
 
 • Lest the similarity of the names should produce con- 
 fusion, it may he well to say that the Uncas here mentioned 
 is the grandfather of him who plays so conspicuous a part 
 So “The Last of the Mohicans .’ 1 
 
 would be a great chief ; but, as it is, he is only a 
 brave and just-minded Delaware ; respected, and 
 even obeyed in some things, ’tis true, but of a 
 fallen race, and belonging to a fallen people. 
 Ah ! Harry March, ’t would warm the heart within 
 you to sit in their lodges of a winter’s night, and 
 listen to the traditions of the ancient greatness 
 and power of the Mohicans 1 ” 
 
 “ Harkee, fri’nd Nathaniel,”, said Hurry, stop- 
 ping short to face his companion, in order that 
 his words might carry greater weight with them ; 
 “ if a man believed all that other people choose 
 to say in their own favor, he might get an over- 
 sized opinion of them, and an undersized opinion 
 of himself. These red-skins are notable boasters, 
 and I set down more than half of their traditions 
 as pure talk.” 
 
 “ There is truth in what you say, Hurry, I’ll 
 not deny it, for I’ve seen it, and believe it. They 
 do boast, but then that is a gift from Natur’ ; and 
 it’s sinful to withstand nat’ral gifts. See ; this is 
 the spot you come to find ! ” 
 
 This remark cut short the discourse, and both 
 the men now gave all their attention to the ob- 
 ject immediately before them. Deerslayer point- 
 ed out to his companion the trunk of a huge lin- 
 den, or basswood, as it is termed in the language 
 of the country, which had filled its time, and fall- 
 en by its own weight. This tree, like so many 
 millions of its brethren, lay where it had fallen, 
 and was mouldering under the slow but certain 
 influence of the seasons. The decay, however, 
 had attacked its centre, even while it stood erect 
 in the pride of vegetation, hollowing out its heart, 
 as disease sometimes destroys the vitals of animal 
 life, even while a fair exterior is presented to the 
 observer. As the trunk lay stretched for near a 
 hundred feet along the earth, the quick eye of the 
 hunter detected this peculiarity, and from thir. 
 and other circumstances he knew it to be the 
 tree of which March was in search. 
 
 “Ay, here we have what we want,” cried Hur- 
 ry, looking in at the larger end of the linden ; 
 “ every thing is as snug as if it had been left in 
 an old woman’s cupboard. Come, lend me a 
 hand, Deerslayer, and we’ll be afloat in half an 
 hour.” 
 
 At this call the hunter joined his companion, 
 and the two went to work deliberately and regu- 
 larly, like men accustomed to the sort of thing in 
 which they were employed. In the first place, 
 Hurry removed some pieces of bark that lay be- 
 fore the large opening in the tree, and which the 
 other declared to be disposed in a way that would 
 have been more % likely to attract attention than 
 to conceal the cover, had any straggler passed 
 
MUSKRAT CASTLE. 
 
 15 
 
 that way. The two then drew out a bark canoe, 
 containing its seats, paddles, and other appli- 
 ances, even to fishing lines and rods. This ves- 
 sel was by no means small ; but such was its 
 comparative lightness, and so gigantic was the 
 strength of Hurry, that the latter shouldered it 
 with seeming ease, declining all assistance, even 
 in the act of raising it to the awkward position in 
 which he was obliged to hold it. 
 
 “ Lead ahead, Deerslayer,” said March, “ and 
 open the bushes ; the rest I can do for myself.” 
 
 The other obeyed, and the men left the spot, 
 Deerslayer clearing the way for his companion, 
 and inclining to the right or to the left, as the 
 latter directed. In about ten minutes they both 
 broke suddenly into the brilliant light of the sun, 
 on a low, gravelly point, that was washed by wa- 
 ter on quite half its outline. 
 
 An exclamation of surprise broke from the 
 lips of Deerslayer, an exclamation that was low 
 and guardedly made, however, for his habits were 
 much more thoughtful and regulated than those 
 of the reckless Hurry, when, on reaching the mar- 
 gin of the lake, he beheld the view that unex- 
 pectedly met his gaze. It was, in truth, suffi- 
 ciently striking to merit a brief description. On 
 a level with the point lay a broad sheet of water, 
 so placid and limpid, that it resembled a bed of 
 the pure mountain atmosphere, compressed into a 
 setting of hills and woods. Its length was about 
 three leagues, while its breadth was irregular, ex- 
 panding to half a league, or even more, opposite 
 to the point, and contracting to less than half 
 that distance, more to the southward. Of course, 
 its margin was irregular, being indented by bays, 
 and broken by many projecting, low points. At 
 its northern or nearest end it was bounded by 
 ai isolated mountain, lower land falling off east 
 and west, gracefully relieving the sweep of the 
 outline. Still the character of the country was 
 mountainous ; high hills or low mountains rising 
 abruptly from the water, on quite nine tenths of 
 its circuit. The exceptions, indeed, only served a 
 little to vary the scene; and even beyond the 
 parts of the shore that were comparatively low, 
 the background was high, though more distant. 
 
 But the most striking peculiarities of this 
 scene were its solemn solitude and sweet repose. 
 On all sides, wherever the eye turned, nothing 
 met it but the mirror-like surface of the lake, the 
 placid view of heaven, and the dense setting of 
 woods. So rich and fleecy were the outlines of 
 the forest, that scarce an opening could be seen, 
 the whole visible earth, from the rounded moun- 
 tain-top to the water’s edge, presenting one un- 
 varied hue of unbroken verdure. As if vegeta* 
 2 
 
 tion were not satisfied with a triumph so com- 
 plete, the trees overhung the lake itself, shooting 
 out toward the light ; and there were miles along 
 its eastern shore where a boat might have pulled 
 beneath the branches of dark Rembrandt-looking 
 hemlocks, “ quivering aspens,” and melancholy 
 pines. In a word, the hand of man had never 
 yet defaced or deformed any part of this native 
 scene, which lay bathed in the sunlight, a glori- 
 ous picture of affluent forest-grandeur, softened 
 by the balminess of June, and relieved by the 
 beautiful variety afforded by the presence of so 
 broad an expanse of water. 
 
 “ This is grand ! — ’tis solemn ! — ’tis an edica- 
 tion of itself to look upon!” exclaimed Deer- 
 slayer, as he stood leaning od his rifle and gazing 
 to the right and left, north and south, above and 
 beneath, in whichever direction his eye could 
 wander; “not a tree disturbed even by red-skin 
 hand, as I can discover, but every thing left in 
 the ordering of the Lord, to live and die accord- 
 ing to His own designs and laws ! Hurry, your 
 Judith ought to be a moral and well-disposed 
 young woman if she has passed half the time you 
 mention in the centre of a spot so favored.” 
 
 “That’s a naked truth ; and yet the gal haa 
 the vagaries. All her time has not been passed 
 here, howsever, old Tom having the custom, afore 
 I know’d him, of going to spend the winters in 
 the neighborhood of the settlers, or under the 
 guns of the forts. No, no, Jude has caught more 
 than is for her good from the settlers, and es- 
 pecially from the gallantifying officers.” 
 
 “ If she has — if she has, Hurry, this is a 
 school to set her mind right ag’in. — But -what is 
 this I see off here, abreast of us, that seems too 
 small for an island, and too large for a boat, 
 though it stands in the midst of the water ? ” 
 
 “ Why, that is what these gallanting gentry, 
 from the forts, call Muskrat Castle ; and old Tom 
 himself will grin at the name, though it bears so 
 hard on his own natur’ and character. ’Tis the 
 stationary house, there being two ; this, which 
 never moves, and the other, that floats, being 
 sometimes in one part of the lake and sometimes 
 in another. The last goes by the name of the 
 ark, though what may be the meaning of the 
 word is more than I can tell you.” 
 
 “ It must come from the missionaries, Hurry, 
 whom I have heard speak and read of such a 
 thing. They say that the ’arth was once covered 
 with water, and that Noah, with his children, was 
 saved from drowning by building a vessel called 
 an ark, in which he embarked in season. Some 
 of the Delawares believe this tradition, and some 
 deny it; but it behooves you and me, as white 
 
16 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 men born, to put our faith in its truth. Ho you 
 See any thing of this ark ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis down south, no doubt, or anchored in 
 some of the bays. But the canoe is ready, and 
 fifteen minutes will carry two such paddles as 
 your’n and mine to the castle.” 
 
 At this suggestion, Heerslayer helped his com- 
 panion to place the different articles in the canoe, 
 which was already afloat. This was no sooner 
 done than the two frontier-men embarked, and, 
 by a vigorous push, sent the light bark some 
 eight or ten rods from the shore. Hurry now 
 took the seat in the stern, while Deerslayer 
 placed himself forward, and, by leisurely but 
 steady strokes of the paddles, the canoe glided 
 across the placid sheet toward the extraordinary- 
 looking structure that the former had styled Musk- 
 rat Castle. Several times the men ceased pad- 
 dling and looked about them at the scene as new 
 glimpses opened from behind points, enabling 
 them to see farther down the lake, or to get 
 broader views of the wooded mountains. The 
 only changes, however, were in the new forms of 
 the hills, the varying curvature of the bays, and 
 the wider reaches of the valley south ; the whole 
 earth, apparently, being clothed in a gala-dress 
 of leaves. 
 
 “ This is a sight to warm the heart ! ” ex- 
 claimed Deerslayer, when they had thus stopped 
 for the fourth or fifth time ; “ the lake seems 
 made to let us get an insight into the noble 
 forests ; and land and water, alike, stand in the 
 beauty of God’s providence ! — Do you say, Huriy, 
 that there is no man who calls himself lawful 
 owner of all these glories ? ” 
 
 “ None but the king, lad. He may pretend 
 to some right of that natur’, but he is so far 
 away that his claim will never trouble old Tom 
 Hutter, who has got possession, and is like to 
 keep it as long as his life lasts. Tom is no 
 squatter, not being on land ; I call him a floater.” 
 
 “ I invy that man ! — I know it‘s wrong, and 
 I strive ag’in the feelin’, but I invy that man ! 
 Don’t think, Hurry, that I’m consarting any plan 
 to put myself in his moccasins, for such a thought 
 doesn’t harbor in my mind ; but I can’t help a 
 little invy ! ’Tis a nat’ral feelin’, and the best of 
 us are but nat’ral a’ter all, and give way to such 
 feelin’s at times.” 
 
 “ You’ve only to marry Hetty to inherit half 
 the estate,” cried Hurry, laughing; “the gal is 
 comely ; nay, if it wasn’t for her sister’s beauty, 
 she would be even handsome ; and then her wits 
 are so small that you may easily convarc her into 
 one of your own way of thinking in all things. 
 Do you fake Hetty off the old fellow’s hands, and 
 
 I’ll engage he’Jl give you an interest in every dec? 
 you can knock over within five miles of his 
 lake.” 
 
 “ Does game abound ? ” suddenly demanded 
 the other, who paid but little attention to March’s 
 raillery. 
 
 “ It has the country to itself. Scarce a trig- 
 ger is pulled on it ; and as for the trappers, this 
 is not a region they greatly frequent. I ought 
 not to be so much here myself, but Jude pulls 
 one way, while the beaver pulls another. More 
 than a hundred Spanish dollars has that creatur’ 
 cost me the two last seasons ; and yet I could 
 not forego the wish to look upon her face once 
 more.” 
 
 “ Do the red men often visit this lake, Hurry ? ” 
 continued Deerslayer, pursuing his own train of 
 thought. 
 
 “ Why, they come and go ; sometimes in 
 parties, and sometimes singly. The country 
 seems to belong to no native tribe in particular ; 
 and so it has fallen into the hands of the Hutter 
 tribe. The old man tells me that some sharp 
 ones have been wheedling the Mohawks for an 
 Indian deed, in order to get a title out of the 
 colony ; but nothing has come of it, seeing that 
 no one, heavy enough for such a trade, has yet 
 meddled with the matter. The hunters have a 
 good life-lease, still, of this wilderness.” 
 
 “ So much the better — so much the better, 
 Hurry. If I was King of England, the man that 
 felled one of these trees without good occasion 
 for the timber, should be banished to a desarted 
 and forlorn region, in which no four-footed ani- 
 mal ever trod. Right glad am I that Chingach- 
 gook app’inted our meeting on this lake, for, 
 hitherto, eye of mine never looked on such a 
 glorious spectacle.” 
 
 “ That’s because you’ve kept so much among 
 the Delawares, in whose country there are no 
 lakes. Now, farther north, and farther west, 
 these bits of water abound ; and you’re young, 
 and may yet live to see ’em. But though there 
 be other lakes, Deerslayer, there’s no other 
 Judith Hutter ! ” 
 
 At this remark his companion smiled, and 
 then he dropped his paddle into the water, as il 
 in consideration of a lover’s haste. Both now 
 pulled vigorously until they got within a hundred 
 yards of the “ castle,” as Hurry familiarly called 
 the house of Hutter, when they again ceased pad- 
 dling; the admirer of Judith restraining his im- 
 patience the more readily, as he perceived that 
 the building was untenanted, at the moment. 
 This new pause was to enable Deerslayer to sur- 
 vey the singular edifice, which was of a con- 
 
PECULIARITIES OF SUTTER’S HABITATION. 
 
 17 
 
 struction so novel as to merit a particular descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 Muskrat Castle, as the house had been fa- 
 cetiously named by some waggish officer, stood 
 in the open lake, at a distance of fully a quarter 
 of a mile from the nearest shore. On every other 
 side the water extended much farther, the pre- 
 cise position being distant about two miles from 
 the northern end of the sheet, and near, if not 
 quite, a mile from its eastern shore. As there 
 was not the smallest appearance of any island, 
 but the house stood on pile3, with the water flow- 
 ing beneath it, and Deerslayer had already dis- 
 covered that the lake was of a great depth, he 
 was fain to ask an explanation of this singular 
 circumstance. Hurry solved the difficulty by 
 telling him that on this spot alone, a long, nar- 
 row shoal, which extended for a few hundred 
 yards in a north and south direction, rose within 
 six or eight feet of the surface of the lake, and 
 that Hutter had driven piles into it, and placed 
 his habitation on them, for the purpose of se- 
 curity. 
 
 “ The old fellow was burnt out three times, 
 atween the Indians and the hunters ; and in one 
 affray with the red-skins he lost his only son, 
 since which time he has taken to the water for 
 safety. No one can attack him here, without 
 coming in a boat, and the plunder and scalps 
 would scarce be worth the trouble of digging out 
 canoes. Then it’s by no means sartin which 
 would whip in such a scrimmage, for old Tom is 
 well supplied with arms and ammunition, and the 
 castle, as you may see, is a tight breast-work 
 ag’in light shot.” 
 
 Deerslayer had some theoretical knowledge 
 of frontier warfare, though he had never yet been 
 called on to raise his hand in anger against a 
 fellow-creature. He saw that Hurry did not 
 overrate the strength of this position in a military 
 point of view, since it would not be easy to attack 
 it without exposing the assailants to the fire of 
 the besieged. A good deal of art had also been 
 manifested in the disposition of the timber of 
 which the building was constructed, and which 
 afforded a protection much greater than was 
 usual to the ordinary log-cabins of the frontier. 
 The sides and ends were composed of the trunks 
 of large pines, cut about nine feet long, and 
 placed upright, instead of being laid horizontally, 
 as was the practice of the country. These logs 
 were squared on three sides, and had large tenons 
 on each end. Massive sills were secured on the 
 heads of the piles, with suitable grooves dug out 
 of their upper surfaces, which had been squared 
 for the purpose, and the lower tenons of the up- 
 2 
 
 right pieces were placed in those grooves, giving 
 them a secure fastening below. Plates had been 
 laid on the upper ends of the upright logs, and 
 were kept in their places by a similar contrivance ; 
 the several corners of the structure being well 
 fastened by scarfing and pinning the sills and 
 plates. The floors were made of smaller logs, 
 similarly squared, and the roof was composed of 
 light poles, firmly united, and well covered with 
 bark. The effect of this ingenious arrangement 
 was to give its owner a house that could be ap- 
 proached only by water, the sides of which were 
 composed of logs closely wedged together, which 
 were two feet thick in their thinnest parts, and 
 which could be separated only by a deliberate 
 and laborious use of human hands, or by the 
 slow operation of time. The outer surface of 
 the building was rude and uneven, the logs being 
 of unequal sizes ; but the squared surfaces within 
 gave both the sides and floor as uniform an ap- 
 pearance as was desired, either for use or show. 
 The chimney was not the least singular portion 
 of the castle, as Hurry made his companion ob- 
 serve, while he explained the process by which it 
 had been made. The material was a stiff clay, 
 properly worked, which had been put together in 
 a mould of sticks, and suffered to harden, a foot 
 or two at a time, commencing at the bottom. 
 When the entire chimney had thus been raised, 
 and had been properly bound in with outward 
 props, a brisk fire was kindled, and kept going 
 until it was burned to something like a brick-red. 
 This had not been an easy operation, nor had it 
 succeeded entirely ; but, by dint of filling the 
 cracks with fresh clay, a safe- fireplace and chim- 
 ney had been obtained in the end. This part of 
 the work stood on the log-floor, secured beneath 
 by an extra pile. There were a few other pecu- 
 liarities about this dwelling, which will better ap- 
 pear in the course of the narrative. 
 
 “ Old Tom is full of contrivances,” added Hurry^ 
 “ and he set his heart on the success of his chim- 
 ney, which threatened more than once to give out 
 altogether ; but parseverancq will even overcome 
 smoke ; and now he has a comfortable cabin of it, 
 though it did promise, at one time, to be a ohinky 
 sort of a flue to carry flames and fire.” 
 
 “ You seem to know the whole history of the 
 castle, Hurry, chimney and sides,” said Deerslayer, 
 smiling ; “ is love so overcoming that it causes a 
 man to study the story of his sweetheart’s habita- 
 tion ? ” 
 
 “Partly that, lad, and partly eyesight,” re- 
 turned the good-natured giant, laughing; “there 
 was a large gang of us, in at the lake, the summer 
 the old fellow built, and we helped him along with 
 
18 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 the job. I raised no small part of the weight of 
 them uprights with my own shoulders, and the 
 axes flew, I can inform you, Master Natty, while 
 we were bee-ing it among the trees ashore. The 
 old devil is no way stingy about food, and as we 
 had often eat at his hearth, we thought we would 
 just house him comfortably, afore we went to 
 Albany with our skins. Yes, many is the meal 
 I’ve swallowed in Tom Hutter’s cabins ; and 
 Hetty, though so weak in the way of wits, has a 
 wonderful particular way about a frying-pan or a 
 gridiron ! ” 
 
 While the parties were thus discoursing, the 
 canoe had been gradually drawing near to the 
 “ castle,” and was now so close as to require but 
 a single stroke of a paddle to reach the landing. 
 This was at a floored platform in front of the 
 entrance, and might have been some twenty feet 
 square. 
 
 “ Old Tom calls this sort of a wharf his door- 
 yard,” observed Hurry, as he fastened the canoe, 
 after he and his companion had left it ; “ and the 
 gallants from the forts have named it the ‘ castle 
 court,’ though what a ‘ court ’ can have to do 
 here is more than I can tell you, seeing there is 
 no law. ’Tis as I supposed ; not a soul within, 
 but the whole family is off on a v’y’ge of dis- 
 covery ! ” 
 
 While Hurry was bustling about the “ door- 
 yard,” examining the fishing-spears, rods, nets, 
 and other similar appliances of a frontier cabin, 
 Deerslayer, whose manner was altogether more 
 rebuked and quiet, entered the building, with a 
 curiosity that was not usually exhibited by one so 
 long trained in Indian habits. The interior of the 
 “ castle ” was as faultlessly neat as its exterior 
 was novel. The entire space, some twenty feet 
 by forty, was subdivided into several small sleep- 
 ing-rooms; the apartment into which he first 
 entered, serving equally for the ordinary uses of 
 its inmates, and for a kitchen. The furniture was 
 of the strange mixture that is not uncommon to 
 find in the remotely-situated log-tenements of the 
 interior. Most of it was rude, and to the last 
 degree rustic; but there was a clock, with a 
 handsome case of dark wood, in a corner, and 
 two or three chairs, with a table and bureau, that 
 had evidently come from some dwelling of more 
 than usual pretension. The clock was industri- 
 ously ticking, but its leaden-looking hands did 
 no discredit to their dull aspect, for they pointed 
 to the hour of eleven, though the sun plainly 
 showed it was some time past the turn of the day. 
 There was also a dark, massive chest.. The 
 kitchen utensils were of the simplest kind, and 
 fer from numerous, but every article was in its 
 
 place, and showed the nicest care in its condV 
 tion. 
 
 After Deerslayer had cast a look about him 
 in the outer room, he raised a wooden latch, and 
 entered a narrow passage that divided the inner 
 end of the house into two equal parts. Frontier 
 usages being no way scrupulous, and his curiosity 
 being strongly excited, the young man now opened 
 a door, and found himself in a bedroom. A sin- 
 gle glance sufficed to show that the apartment 
 belonged to females. The bed was of the feathers 
 of wild-geese, and filled nearly to overflowing ; but 
 it lay in a rude bunk, raised only a foot from the 
 floor. On one side of* it were arranged, on pegs, 
 various dresses, of a quality much superior to 
 what one would expect to meet in such a place, 
 with ribbons and other similar articles to corre- 
 spond. Pretty shoes, with handsome silver 
 buckles, such as were then worn by females in 
 easy circumstances, were not wanting; and no 
 less than six fans, of gay colors, were placed half 
 open, in a way to catch the eye by their conceits 
 and hues. Even the pillow, on this side of the 
 bed, was covered with finer linen than its compan- 
 ion, and it was ornamented with a small ruffle. A 
 cap, coquettishly decorated with ribbons, hung 
 above it, and a pair of long gloves, such as were 
 rarely used in those days by persons of the labor- 
 ing-classes, were pinned ostentatiously to it, as if 
 with an intention to exhibit them there, if they 
 could not be shown on the owner’s arms. 
 
 All this Deerslayer saw, and noted with a de- 
 gree of minuteness that would have done credit 
 to the habitual observation of his friends the 
 Delawares. Nor did he fail to perceive the dis- 
 tinction that existed between the appearances on 
 the different sides of the bed, the head of which 
 stood against the wall. On that opposite to the 
 one just described, every thing was homely and 
 uninviting, except through its perfect neatness. 
 The few garments that were hanging from the 
 pegs were of the coarsest materials and of the 
 commonest forms, while nothing seemed made for 
 show. Of ribbons there was not one ; nor was 
 there either cap or kerchief beyond those which 
 Hutter’s daughters might be fairly entitled to 
 wear. 
 
 It was now several years since Deerslayer had 
 been in a spot especially devoted to the uses of 
 females of his own color and race. The sight 
 brought back to his mind a rush of childish rec- 
 ollections; and he lingered in the room with a 
 tenderness of feeling to which he had long been 
 a stranger. He bethought him of his mother, 
 whose homely vestments he remembered to have 
 seen hanging on pegs like those which he felt 
 
“THE GLIMMERGLASS.” 
 
 19 
 
 must belong to Hetty Hutter ; and he bethought 
 himself of a sister, whose incipient and native 
 taste fer fiirery had exhibited itself somewhat in 
 the manner of that of Judith, though necessarily 
 in a less degree. These little resemblances 
 opened a long-hidden vein of sensations, and, as 
 he quitted the room, it was with a saddened 
 mien. He looked no farther, but returned slowly 
 and thoughtfully toward the “ door-yard.” 
 
 “ Old Tom has taken to a new calling, and 
 has been trying his hand at the traps,” cried 
 Hurry, who had been coolly examining the bor- 
 derer’s implements ; “ if that is his humor, and 
 you’re disposed to remain in these parts, we can 
 make an oncommon comfortable season of it, for, 
 while the old man and I out-knowledge the bea- 
 ver, you can fish, and knock down the deer, to 
 keep body and soul together. We always give 
 the poorest hunters half a share, but one as ac- 
 tive and sartain as yourself might expect a full 
 one.” 
 
 “Thank’ee, Hurry; thank’ee, ■with all my 
 heart — but I do a little beavering for myself, as 
 occasions offer. ’Tis true, the Delawares call me 
 Deerslayer, but it’s not so much because I’m 
 pretty fatal with the venison, as because that 
 while I kill so many bucks and does, I’ve never 
 yet taken the life of a fellow-creatur’. They say 
 their traditions do not tell of another who had 
 shed so much blood of animals that had not shed 
 the blood of man.” 
 
 “I hope they don’t account you chicken- 
 hearted, lad ? A faint-hearted man is like a no- 
 tailed beaver.” 
 
 “ I don’t believe, Hurry, that they account me 
 as out-of-the-way timorous, even though they may 
 not account me as out-of-the-way brave. But I’m 
 not quarrelsome, and that goes a great way tow- 
 ard keeping blood off the hands, among the 
 hunters and red-skins ; and, then, Harry March, 
 it keeps blood off the conscience, too.” 
 
 “Well, for my part, I account game, a red- 
 skin, and a Frenchman, as pretty much the same 
 thing, though I’m as onquarrelsome a man, too, 
 as there is in all the colonies. I despise a quar- 
 reller as I do a cur-dog, but one has no need to 
 be over-scruplesome when it’s the right time to 
 show the flint.” 
 
 “ I look upon him as the most of a man who 
 acts nearest the right, Hurry. But this is a glo- 
 rious spot, and my eyes never a-weary looking at 
 it ! ” 
 
 “ ’Tis your first acquaintance with a lake, and 
 these idees come over us all at such times. Lakes 
 have a general character, as I say, being pretty 
 much water and land, and points and bays.” 
 
 As this definition by no means met the feel- 
 ings that were uppermost in the mind of the 
 young hunter, he made no immediate answer, but 
 stood gazing at the dark hills and the glassy 
 water in silent enjoyment. 
 
 “Have the governor’s or the king’s people 
 given this lake a name ? ” he suddenly asked, 
 as if struck with a new idea. “If they’ve 
 not begun to blaze their trees, and set up their 
 compasses, and line off their maps, it’s likely 
 they’ve not bethought them to disturb Natur’ 
 with a name.” 
 
 “ They’ve not got to that yet ; and the last 
 time I went in with skins, one of the king’s sur- 
 veyors was questioning me consaming all the re- 
 gion hereabouts. He had heard that there was a 
 lake in this quarter, and had got some general 
 notions about it, such as that there was water and 
 hills, but how much of either, he knowed no more 
 than you know of the Mohawk tongue. I didn’t 
 open the trap any wider than was necessary, giv- 
 ing him but poor encouragement in the way of 
 farms and clearings. In short, I left on bis mind 
 some such opinion of this country as a man gets 
 of a spring of dirty water, with a path to it that 
 is so muddy that one mires afore he sets out. 
 He told me they hadn’t got the spot down yet on 
 their maps, though I conclude that is a mistake, 
 for he showed me his parchment, and there is a 
 lake down on it where there is no lake, in fact, 
 and which is about fifty miles from the place 
 where it ought to be, if they meant it for this. I 
 don’t think my account will encourage him to 
 mark down another, by way of improvement.” 
 
 Here Hurry laughed heartily, such tricks be- 
 ing particularly grateful to a set of men who 
 dreaded the approaches of civilization as a cur- 
 tailment of their own lawless empire. The egre- 
 gious errors that existed in the maps of the 
 day, all of which were made in Europe, was, 
 moreover, a standing topic of ridicule among 
 them ; for, if they had not science enough to 
 make any better themselves, they had sufficient 
 local information to detect the gross blunders 
 contained in those that existed. Any one who 
 will take the trouble to compare these unanswer- 
 able evidences of the topographical skill of our 
 fathers a century since, with the more accurate 
 sketches of our own time, will at once perceive 
 that the men of the woods had a sufficient justifi- 
 cation for all their criticism on this branch of the 
 skill of the colonial governments, which did not 
 at all hesitate to place a river or a lake a degree 
 or two out of the way, even though they lay 
 within a day’s march of the inhabited parts of 
 the country. 
 
20 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “I’m glad it lias no name,” resumed Deer- 
 slayer, “ or, at least, no pale-face name, for their 
 christenings always foretell waste and destruc- 
 tion. No doubt, howsever, the red-skins have 
 their modes of knowing it, and the hunters and 
 trappers, too ; they are likely to call the place by 
 something reasonable and resembling.” 
 
 “As for the tribes, each has its own tongue, 
 and its own way of calling things, and they treat 
 this part of the world just as they treat all others. 
 Among ourselves, we’ve got to calling the place 
 the ‘ Glimmerglass,’ seeing that its whole basin is 
 often fringed with pines, cast upward from its 
 face, as if it would throw back the hills that hang 
 over it.” 
 
 “ There is an outlet, I know, for all lakes have 
 outlets, and the rock at which I am to meet Chin- 
 gachook stands near an outlet. Has that no col- 
 ony-name, yet ? ” 
 
 “ In that particular, they’ve got the advan- 
 tage of us, having one end, and that the biggest, 
 in their own keeping; they’ve given it a name 
 which has found its way up to its source, names 
 nat’rally working up-stream. No doubt, Deer- 
 slayer, you’ve seen the Susquehanna, down in 
 the Delaware country ? ” 
 
 “ That have I, and hunted along its banks a 
 hundred times.” 
 
 “ That and this are the same, in fact, and, I 
 suppose, the same in sound. I am glad they’ve 
 been compelled to keep the red men’s name, for 
 it would be too hard to rob them of both land 
 and name ! ” 
 
 Deerslayer made no answer ; but he stood 
 leaning on his rifle, gazing at the view which so 
 much delighted him. The reader is not to sup- 
 pose, however, that it was the picturesque alone 
 which so strongly attracted his attention. The 
 spot was very lovely, of a truth, and it was then 
 seen in one of its most favorable moments, the 
 surface of the lake being as smooth as glass and 
 as limpid as pure air, throwing back the moun- 
 tains, clothed in dark pines, along the whole of 
 its eastern boundary, the points thrusting forward 
 their trees even to nearly horizontal lines, while 
 the bays were seen glittering through an occa- 
 sional arch beneath, left by a vault fretted with 
 branches and leaves. It was the air of deep re- 
 pose — the solitudes, that spoke of scenes and 
 'orests untouched by the hands of man — the 
 reign of Nature, in a word, that gave so much 
 pure delight to one of his habits and turn of 
 mind. Still, he felt, though it was unconsciously ^ 
 like a poet also. If he found a pleasure in study- 
 ing this large, and, to him, unusual opening into 
 the mysteries and forms of the woods, as one is 
 
 gratified in getting broader views of any subject 
 that has long occupied his thoughts, he was not 
 insensible to the innate loveliness of such a land- 
 scape, either, but felt a portion of that soothing 
 of the spirit which is a common attendant of a 
 scene so thoroughly pervaded by the holy calm 
 of Nature. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 “ Come, shall we go and kill us venison ? 
 
 And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools — 
 
 Being native burghers of this desert city — 
 
 Should, in their own confines, with forked heads 
 Have their round haunches gored.” 
 
 Shakespear*. 
 
 Horry Harry thought more of the beauties 
 of Judith Hutter than of those of the Glimmer- 
 glass and its accompanying scenery. As soon as 
 he had taken a suffi ciently intimate survey of 
 Floating Tom’s implements, therefore, he sum. 
 moned his companion to the canoe, that they 
 might go down the lake in quest of the family. 
 Previously to embarking, however, Hurry care- 
 fully examined the whole of the northern end of 
 the water with an indifferent ship’s glass, that 
 formed a part of Hutter’s effects. In this sera, 
 tiny, no part of the shore was overlooked ; the 
 bays and points, in particular, being subjected to 
 a closer inquiry than the rest of the wooded 
 boundary. 
 
 “ ’Tis as I thought,” said Hurry, laying aside 
 the glass, “ the old fellow is drifting about the 
 south end, this fine weather, and has left the 
 castle to defend itself. Well, now we know that 
 he is not up this-a-way, ’twill be but a small 
 matter to paddle down, and hunt him up in his 
 hiding-place.” 
 
 “Does Master Hutter think it necessary to 
 burrow on this lake ? ” inquired Deerslayer, as 
 he followed his companion into the canoe ; “ to 
 my eye, it is such a solitude as one might open 
 his whole soul in, and fear no one to disarrange 
 his thoughts or his worship.” 
 
 “ You forget your friends the Mingoes, and all 
 the French savages. Is there a spot on ’arth, 
 Deerslayer, to which them disquiet rogues don’t 
 go ? Where is the lake, or even the deer-lick, 
 that the blackguards don’t find out ; and, having 
 found out, don’t, sooner or later, discolor its 
 water with blood ? ” 
 
 “ I hear no good character of them, sartainly 
 friend Hurry, though I’ve never been called on, as 
 yet, to meet them, or any other mortal, on the 
 war-path. I dare to say that such a lovely spot 
 
AN ANIMATED DISCUSSION. 
 
 21 
 
 as this would not be likely to be overlooked by 
 such plunderers ; for, though I’ve not been in the 
 way of quarrelling with them tribes myself, the 
 Delawares give me such an account of ’em that 
 that I’ve pretty much set ’em down, in my own 
 mind, as thorough miscreants.” 
 
 “You may do that with a safe conscience, or, 
 for that matter, any other savage you may happen 
 to meet.” 
 
 Here Deerslayer protested, and as they went 
 paddling down the lake a hot discussion was 
 maintained concerning the respective merits of 
 the pale-faces and the red-skins. Hurry had all 
 the prejudices and antipathies of a white hunter^ 
 who generally regards the Indian as a sort of 
 natural competitor, and not unfrequently as a 
 natural enemy. As a matter of course, he was 
 loud, clamorous, dogmatical, and not very argu- 
 mentative. Deerslayer, on the other hand, mani- 
 fested a very different temper; proving, by the 
 moderation of his language, the fairness of his 
 views, and the simplicity of his distinctions, that 
 he possessed every disposition to hear reason, a 
 strong, innate desire to do justice, and an ingenu- 
 ousness $hat was singularly indisposed to have 
 recourse to sophisms to maintain an argument, or 
 to defend a prejudice. Still, he was not altogeth- 
 er free from the influence of the latter feeling. 
 This tyrant of the human mind, which rushes on 
 its prey through a thousand avenues, almost as 
 soon as men begin to think and feel, and which 
 seldom relinquishes its iron sway until they cease 
 to do either, had made some impression on even 
 the just propensities of this individual, who prob- 
 ably offered in these particulars a fair specimen of 
 what absence from bad example, the want of 
 temptation to go wrong, and native good feeling, 
 can render youth. 
 
 “ You will allow, Deerslayer, that a Mingo is 
 more than half devil,” cried Hurry, following up 
 the discussion with an animation that touched 
 closely on ferocity, “though you want to over- 
 persuade me that the Delaware tribe is pretty 
 much made up of angels. Now, I gainsay that 
 proposal, consarning white men, even. All white 
 men are not faultless, and therefore all Indians 
 can't be faultless. And so your argument is out 
 at the elbow in the start. But, this is what I call 
 reason : Here’s three colors on ’arth ; white, 
 black, and red. White is the highest color, and 
 therefore the best man ; black comes next, and is 
 put to live in the neighborhood of the white man, 
 as tolerable, and fit to be made use of; and red 
 comes last, which shows that those that made ’em 
 never expect an Indian to be accounted as more 
 than half human.” 
 
 “ God made all three alike, Hurry.” 
 
 “Alike! Do you call a nigger like a white 
 man, or me like an Indian ? ” 
 
 “ You go off at half-cock, and don’t hear me 
 out. God made us all, white, black, and red ; and, 
 no doubt, had his own wise intentions in coloring 
 us differently. Still, he made us, in the main, 
 much the same in feelin’s ; though I’ll not deny 
 that he gave each race its gifts. A white man’s 
 gifts are Christianized, while a red-skin’s are more 
 for the wilderness. Thus, it would be a great of- 
 fence for a white man to scalp the dead ; wliereaa 
 it’s a signal vartue in an Indian. Then, ag’in, a 
 white man cannot amboosh women and children in 
 war, while a red-skin may. ’Tis cruel work, I’ll 
 allow ; but for them it’s laicful work ; while for us 
 it would be grievous work.” 
 
 “ That depends on your inimy. As for scalp- 
 ing, or even skinning a savage, I look upon them 
 pretty much the same as cutting off the ears of 
 wolves for the bounty, or stripping a bear of its 
 hide. And then you’re out significantly, as to 
 taking the poll of a red-skin in hand, seeing that 
 the very colony has offered a bounty for the job ; 
 all the same as it pays for wolves’ ears and crows’ 
 heads.” 
 
 “ Ay, and a bad business it is, Hurry. Even 
 the Indians themselve3 cry shame on it, seeing 
 it’s ag’in a white man’s gifts. 1 do not pretend 
 that all that white men do, is properly Christian- 
 ized, and according to the lights given them, for 
 then they would be what they ought to be ; which 
 we know they are not ; but I will maintain that 
 tradition, and use, and color, and laws, make such 
 a difference in races as to amount to gifts. I do 
 not deny that there are tribes among the Indians 
 that are nat’rally pervarse and wicked, as there 
 are nations among the whites. Now, I account 
 the Mingoes as belonging to the first, and the 
 Frenchers, in the Canadas, to the last. In a 
 state of lawful warfare, such as we have lately 
 got into, it is a duty to keep down all compas- 
 sionate feelin’s, so far as life goes, ag’in either ; 
 but when it comes to scalps, it’s a very different 
 matter.” 
 
 “ Just hearken to reason, if you please, Deer- 
 slayer, and tell me if the colony can make an 
 onlawful law ? Isn’t an onlawful law more ag’in 
 natur’ than scalpin’ a savage? A law can no 
 more be onlawful, than truth can be a lie.” 
 
 “ That sounds reasonable ; but it has a most 
 onreasonable bearing, Hurry. Laws don’t all 
 come from the same quarter. God has given us 
 his’n, and some come from the colony, and othei'3 
 come from the king and Parliament. When the 
 colony’s laws, or even the king’s laws, run ag’in 
 
THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 es 
 
 the laws of God, they get to be onlawful, and 
 ought not to be obeyed. I hold to a white 
 man’s respecting white laws, so long as they do 
 not cross the track of a law cornin’ from a higher 
 authority; and for a red man to obey his own 
 red-skin usages, under the same privilege. But, 
 ’iis useless talking, as each man will think for him- 
 *elf, and have his say agreeable to his thoughts. 
 Let us keep a good lookout for your friend Float- 
 ing Tom, lest we pass him, as he lies hidden under 
 this bushy shore.” 
 
 Deerslayer had not named the borders of the 
 lake amiss. Along their whole length, the smaller 
 trees overhung the water, with their branches 
 often dipping in the transparent element. The 
 banks were steep, even from the narrow strand ; 
 and, as vegetation invariably struggles toward 
 the light, the effect was precisely that at which 
 the lover of the picturesque would have aimed, 
 had the ordering of this glorious setting of forest 
 been submitted to his control. The points and 
 bays, too, were sufficiently numerous to render 
 the outline broken and diversified. As the canoe 
 kept close along the western side of the lake, with 
 a view, as Hurry had explained to his companion, 
 of reconnoitring for enemies, before he trusted 
 himself too openly in sight, the expectations of 
 the two adventurers were kept constantly on the 
 stretch, as neither could foretell what the next 
 turning of a point might reveal. Their progress 
 was swift, the gigantic strength of Hurry enabling 
 him to play with the light bark as if it had been 
 a feather, while the skill of his companion almost 
 equalized their usefulness, notwithstanding the 
 disparity in natural means. 
 
 Each time the canoe passed a point, Hurry 
 turned a look behind him, expecting to see the 
 “ark” anchored, or beached in the bay. He 
 was fated to be disappointed, however ; and they 
 had got within a mile of the southern end of the 
 lake, or a distance of quite two leagues from the 
 “ castle,” which was now hidden from view by 
 half a dozen intervening projections of the land, 
 when he suddenly ceased paddling, as if uncer- 
 tain in what direction next to steer. 
 
 “ It is possible that the old chap has dropped 
 into the river,” said Hurry, after looking care- 
 fully along the whole of the eastern shore, which 
 <vas about a mile distant, and open to his scrutiny 
 for more than half its length; “for he has taken 
 to trapping considerable, of late, and, barring 
 flood-wood, he might drop down it a mile or so ; 
 though he would have a most scratching time in 
 getting back aga’n ! ” 
 
 “ Where is this outlet ? ” asked Deerslayer ; 
 “ I see no opening in the banks or the trees, that 
 
 looks as if it would let a river like the Susque- 
 hanna run through it.” 
 
 “ Ay, Deerslayer, rivers are like human mor- 
 tals ; having small beginnings, and ending with 
 broad shoulders and wide mouths. You don’t 
 see the outlet, because it passes atween high, 
 steep banks ; and the pines, and hemlocks, and 
 basswoods hang over it, as a roof hangs over a 
 house. If old Tom is not in the ‘ Rat’s Cove,’ he 
 must have burrowed in the river ; we’ll look for 
 him first in the Cove, and then we’ll cross to the 
 outlet.” 
 
 As they proceeded, Hurry explained that there 
 was a shallow bay, formed by a long, low point, 
 that had got the name of the “ Rat’s Cove,” from 
 the circumstance of its being a favorite haunt of 
 the musk-rat; and which offered so complete a 
 cover for the “ ark,” that its owner was fond of 
 lying in it, whenever he found it convenient. 
 
 “ As a man never knows who may be his vis- 
 itors, in this part of the country,” continued Hur- 
 ry, “ it’s a great advantage to get a good look at 
 ’em before they come too near. Now it’s war, 
 such caution is more than commonly useful, since 
 a Canada man or a Mingo might get into his hut 
 afore he invited ’em. But Hutter is a first-rate 
 lookouter, and can pretty much scent danger, as 
 a hound scents the deer.” 
 
 “ I should think the castle so open, that it 
 would be sartain to draw inimies, if any happened 
 to find the lake ; a thing onlikely enough, I will 
 allow, as it’s off the trail of the forts and settle- 
 ments.” 
 
 “ Why, Deerslayer, I’ve got to believe that a 
 man meets with inimies easier than he meets with 
 fri’nds. It’s skearful to think for how many causes 
 one gets to be your inimy, and for how few your 
 fri’nd. Some take up the hatchet because you 
 don’t think just as they think ; other some, be- 
 cause you run ahead of ’em in the same idees ; 
 and I once know’d a vagabond that quarrelled 
 with a fri’nd because he didn’t think him hand- 
 some. Now, you’re no monument in the way of 
 beauty, yourself, Deerslayer, and yet you wouldn’t 
 be so onreasonable as to become my inimy for 
 just saying so.” 
 
 “ I’m as the Lord made me ; and I wish to be 
 accounted no better nor any worse. Good looks I 
 may not have ; that is to say, to a degree that the 
 light-minded and vain crave ; but I hope I’m not 
 altogether without some ricommend in the way 
 of good conduct. There’s few nobler-looking men 
 to be seen than yourself, Hurry ; and I know that 
 I am not to expect any to turn their eyes on me, 
 when such a one as you can be gazed on ; but I 
 do not know that a hunter is less expart with the 
 
PERSONAL COMPLIMENTS. 
 
 23 
 
 rifle, or less to be relied on for food, because he 
 doesn’t wish to stop at every shining spring he 
 may meet, to study his own countenance in the 
 water.” 
 
 Here Hurry burst into a fit of loud laughter ; 
 for, while he was too reckless to care much about 
 his own manifest physical superiority, he was well 
 aware of it, and, like most men who derive an ad- 
 vantage from the accidents of birth or nature, he 
 was apt to think complacently on the subject, 
 whenever it happened to cross his mind. 
 
 “No, no, Deerslayer, you’re no beauty, as you 
 will own yourself, if you’ll look over the side of 
 the canoe,” he cried ; “ Jude will say that to your 
 face, if you start her, for a parter tongue isn’t to 
 be found in any gal’s head, in or out of the settle- 
 ments, if you provoke her to use it. My advice 
 vo you is, never to aggravate Judith ; though you 
 may tell any thing to Hetty, and she’ll take it as 
 meek as a lamb. No, Jude will be just as like as 
 not to tell you her opinion consarning your looks.” 
 
 “ And if she does, Hurry, she will tell me no 
 more than you have said already — ” 
 
 “ You’re not thick’ning up about a small re- 
 mark, I hope, Deerslayer, when no harm is meant. 
 You are not a beauty, as you must know, and why 
 shouldn’t fri’nds tell each other these little trifles ? 
 If you was handsome, or ever like to be, I’d be 
 one of the first to tell you of it ; and that ought 
 to content you. Now, if Jude was to tell me that 
 I'm as ugly as a sinner, I’d take it as a sort of ob- 
 ligation, and try not to believe her.” 
 
 “It’s easy for them that Natur’ has favored, 
 to jest about such matters, Hurry, though it is 
 sometimes hard for others. I’ll not deny but I’ve 
 had my cravings toward good looks ; yes, I have ; 
 but then I’ve always been able to get them down 
 by considering how many I’ve known with fair 
 outsides, who have had nothing to boast of inward- 
 ly. I’ll not deny, Hurry, that I often wish I’d 
 been created more comely to the eye, and more 
 like such a one as yourself, in them particulars ; 
 but then I get the feelin’ under by remembering 
 how much better off I am, in a great many re- 
 spects, than some fellow-mortals. I might have 
 been born lame, and onfit even for a squirrel-hunt ; 
 or blind, which would have made me a burden on 
 myself as well as on my fri’nds ; or without hear- 
 ing, which would have totally onqualified me for 
 «ver campaigning or scouting, which I look forward 
 .© as part of a man’s duty in troublesome times. 
 Fes, yes ; it’s not pleasant, I will allow, to see 
 them that’s more comely, and more sought a’ter, 
 and honored than yourself; but it may all be 
 borne, if a man looks the evil in the face, and don’t 
 mistake his gifts and his obligations.” 
 
 Hurry, in the main, was a good-hearted as well 
 as good-natured fellow ; and the self-abasement 
 of his companion completely got the better of 
 the passing feeling of personal vanity. He re- 
 gretted the allusion he had made to tbe other’s 
 appearance, and endeavored to express as much, 
 though it was done in the uncouth manner that 
 belonged to the habits and opinions of the fron- 
 tier. 
 
 “ I meant no harm, Deerslayer,” he answered, 
 in a deprecating manner, “ and hope you’ll forget 
 what I’ve said. If you’re not downright hand- 
 some, you’ve a sartin look that says, plainer than 
 any words, that all’s right within. Then you set 
 no valie by looks, and will the sooner forgive any 
 little slight to your appearance. I will not say 
 that Jude will greatly admire you, for that might 
 raise hopes that would only breed disapp’intment ; 
 but there’s Hetty, now, would be just as likely to 
 find satisfaction in looking at you, as in looking 
 at any other man. Then you’re altogether too 
 grave and considerate-like, to care much about 
 Judith ; for, though the gal is oncommon, she is 
 so general in her admiration, that a man need not 
 be exalted because she happens to smile. I some- 
 times think the hussy loves herself better than 
 she does any thing else breathin’ ! ” 
 
 “If she did, Hurry, she’d do no more, I’m 
 afeard, than most queens on their thrones, and 
 ladies in the towns,” answered Deerslayer, smil- 
 ing, and turning back toward his companion with 
 every trace of feeling banished from his honest- 
 looking and frank countenance. “I never yet 
 know’d even a Delaware of whom you might not 
 say that much. But here is the end of the long 
 p’int you mentioned, and the ‘Rat’s Core’ can’t 
 be far off.” 
 
 This point, instead of thrusting itself forward 
 like all the others, ran in a line with the main 
 shore of the lake, which here swept within it, in 
 a deep and retired bay, circling round south 
 again, at the distance of a quarter of a mile, and 
 crossed the valley, forming the southern termina- 
 tion of the water. In this bay Hurry felt almost 
 certain of finding the ark, since, anchored behind 
 the trees that covered the narrow strip of the 
 point, it might have lain concealed from prying 
 eyes an entire summer. So complete, indeed, was 
 the cover, in this spot, that a boat hauled close to 
 the beach, within the point, and near the bottom 
 of the bay, could by possibility be seen from only 
 one direction ; and that was from a densely-wood- 
 ed shore within the sweep of the water, where 
 strangers would be.little apt to go. 
 
 “We shall soon see the ark,” said Hurry, aa 
 the canoe glided round the extremity of the point, 
 
u 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 where the water was so deep as actually to ap- 
 pear black ; “ he loves to burrow up among the 
 rushes, and we shall be in his nest in five minutes, 
 although the old fellow may be off among the 
 traps himself.” 
 
 March proved a false prophet. The canoe 
 completely doubled the point, so as to enable the 
 two travellers to command a view of the whole 
 cove or bay, for it was more properly the last, and 
 no object, but those that Nature had placed there, 
 became visible. The placid water swept round 
 in a graceful curve, the rushes bent gently toward 
 its surface, and the trees overhung it as usual ; 
 but all lay in the soothing and sublime solitude 
 of a wilderness. The scene was such as a poet 
 or an artist would have delighted in, but it had 
 no charm for Hurry Harry, who was burning with 
 impatience to get a sight of his light-minded 
 beauty. 
 
 The motion of the canoe had been attended 
 with little or no noise, the frontier-men habitually 
 getting accustomed to caution in most of their 
 movements, and it now lay on the glassy water 
 appearing to float in air, partaking of the breath- 
 ing stillness that seemed to pervade the entire 
 scene. At this instant a dry stick was heard 
 cracking on the narrow strip of land that con- 
 cealed the bay from the open lake. Both the ad- 
 venturers started, and each extended a hand 
 toward his rifle, the weapon never being out of 
 reach of the arm. 
 
 “’Twas too heavy for any light creatur’,” 
 whispered Hurry, “ and it sounded like the tread 
 of a man ! ” 
 
 “Not so — not so,” returned Deerslayer ; “ ’twas, 
 as you say, too heavy for one, but it was too light 
 for the other. Put your paddle in the water, and 
 send the canoe in to that log ; I’ll land, and cut 
 off the creatur’s retreat up the p’int, be it a Mingo 
 or be it only a musk-rat.” 
 
 As Hurry complied, Deerslayer was soon on 
 the shore, advancing into the thicket with a moc- 
 casined foot, and a caution that prevented the 
 least noise. In a minute he was, in the centre of 
 the narrow strip of land, and moving slowly down 
 toward its end, the bushes rendering extreme 
 watchfulness necessary. Just as he reached the 
 centre of the thicket, the dried twigs cracked 
 again, and the noise was repeated at short inter- 
 vals, as if some creature having life walked slowly 
 toward the point. Hurry heard these sounds also, 
 tnd, pushing the canoe off into the bay, he seized 
 his rifle to watch the result. A breathless min- 
 ute succeeded, after which a noble buck walked 
 out of the thicket, proceeded with a stately step 
 to the sandy extremity of the point, and began to 
 
 slake his thirst from the water of the lake. Hurry 
 hesitated an instant ; then, raising his rifle hastily 
 to his shoulder, he took sight and fired. The ef- 
 fect of this sudden interruption of the solemn 
 stillness of such a scene was not its least striking 
 peculiarity. The report of the weapon had the 
 usual sharp, short sound of the rifle ; but when a 
 few moments of silence had succeeded the sudden 
 crack, during which the noise was floating in air 
 across the water, it reached the rocks of the op- 
 posite mountain, where the vibrations accumu- 
 lated, and were rolled from cavity to cavity for 
 miles along the hills, seeming to awaken the sleep- 
 ing thunders of the woods. The buck merely 
 shook his head at the report of the rifle and the 
 whistling of the bullet, for never before had he 
 come in contact with man ; but the echoes of the 
 hills awakened his distrust, and, leaping forward, 
 with his four legs drawn under his body, he fell 
 at once into deep water, and began to swim tow- 
 ard the foot of the lake. Hurry shouted and 
 dashed forward in chase, and for one or two min- 
 utes the water foamed around the pursuer and 
 the pursued. The former was dashing past the 
 point, when Deerslayer appeared on the sand, and 
 signed to him to return. 
 
 “ ’Twas inconsiderate to pull a trigger afore 
 we had reconn’itred the shore, and made sartin 
 that no inimies harbored near it,” said the latter, 
 as his companion slowly and reluctantly complied. 
 “ This much I have l’amed from the Delawares, 
 in the way of schooling and traditions, even 
 though I’ve never yet been on a war-path. And 
 moreover, venison can hardly be called in season 
 now, and we do not want for food. They call me 
 Deerslayer, I’ll own ; and perhaps I desarve the 
 name, in the way of understanding the creatur’s 
 habits, as well as for sartainty in the aim ; but 
 they can’t accuse me of killing an animal when 
 there is no occasion for the meat or the skin. I 
 may be a slayer, it’s true, but I’m no slaughterer.” 
 
 “ ’Twas an awful mistake to miss that buck ! ” 
 exclaimed Hurry, doffing his cap and running his 
 fingers through his handsome but matted curls, 
 as if he would loosen his tangled ideas by the 
 process ; “ I’ve not done so onhandy a thing since 
 I was fifteen.” 
 
 “ Never lament it ; the creatur’s death could 
 have done neither of us any good, and might have 
 done us harm. Them echoes are more awful in 
 my ears than your mistake, Hurry, for they sound 
 like the voice of Natur’ calling out ag’in a waste- 
 ful and onthinking action.” 
 
 “You’ll hear plenty of such calls, if you tarry 
 long in this quarter of the world, lad,” returned 
 the other, laughing. “ The echoes repeat pretti 
 
ON THE LAKE. 
 
 25 
 
 much all that is said or done on the Glimmerglass, 
 in this calm summer weather. If a paddle falls, 
 you hear of it sometimes ag’in and ag’in, as if the 
 hills were mocking your clumsiness ; and a laugh 
 or a whistle comes out of them pines, when they’re 
 in the humor to speak, in a way to make you be- 
 lieve they can r’ally convarse.” 
 
 “ So much the more reason for being prudent 
 and silent. I do not think the inimy can have 
 found their way into these hills yet, for I don’t 
 know what they are to gain by it ; but all the 
 Delawares tell me that as courage is a warrior’s 
 first vartue, so is prudence his second. One such 
 call, from the mountains, is enough to let a whole 
 tribe into the secret of our arrival.” 
 
 “If it does no other good, it will warn old 
 Tom to put the pot over, and let him know vis- 
 itors are at hand. — Come, lad ; get into the canoe, 
 and we will hunt the ark up while there is yet 
 day.” 
 
 Deerslayer complied, and the canoe left the 
 spot. Its head was turned diagonally across the 
 lake, pointing toward the southeastern curvature 
 of the sheet. In that direction, the distance to 
 the shore, or to the termination of the lake, on 
 the course the two were now steering, was not 
 quite a mile, and, their progress being always 
 swift, it was fast lessening under the skilful but 
 easy sweeps of the paddles. When about half- 
 way across, a slight noise drew the eyes of the 
 men toward the nearest land, and they saw that 
 the buck was just emerging from the lake and 
 wading toward the beach. In a minute the noble 
 animal shook the water from his flanks, gazed 
 upward at the covering of trees, and, bounding 
 against the bank, plunged into the forest. 
 
 “ That creatur’ goes off with gratitude in his 
 heart,” said Deerslayer, “ for Natur’ tells him 
 he has escaped a great danger. You ought to have 
 some of the same feelin’s, Hurry, to think your eye 
 wasn’t truer — that your hand was onsteady when 
 no good could come of a shot that was intended 
 onmeaningly, rather than in reason.” 
 
 “ I deny the eye and the hand,” cried March, 
 with some heat. “ You’ve got a little character, 
 down among the Delawares, there, for quickness 
 ind sartainty, at a deer ; but I should like to see 
 you behind one of them pines, and a full-painted 
 Mingo behind another, each with a cocked rifle, 
 and a-striving for the chance ! Them’s the situ- 
 ations, Nathaniel, to try the sight and the hand, 
 for they begin with trying the narves. I never 
 ook upon killing a creatur’ as an explite ; but 
 killing a savage is. The time will come to try 
 your hand, now we’ve got to blows ag’in, and we 
 shall soon know what a ven’son reputation can 
 
 do in the field. I deny that either hand or eyo 
 was onsteady ; it was all a miscalculation of the 
 buck, which stood still when he ought to have 
 kept in motion, and so I shot ahead of him.” 
 
 “ Have it your own way, Hurry ; all I contend 
 for is, that it’s lucky. I dare say I shall not pull 
 upon a human mortal as steadily or with as light 
 a heart as I pull upon a deer.” 
 
 “ Who’3 talking of mortals, or of human 
 beings at all, Deerslayer ? I put the matter to 
 you on the supposition of an Injim I dare say 
 any man would have his feelin’s when it got to be 
 life or death ag’in another human mortal ; but 
 there would be no such sci'uples in regard to an 
 Injin ; nothing but the chance of his hitting you, 
 or the chance of your hitting him.” 
 
 “ I look upon the red men to be quite as hu- 
 man as we are ourselves, Hurry. They have their 
 gifts and their religion, it’s true ; but that makes 
 no difference in the end, when each will be judged 
 according to his deeds, and not according to his 
 skin.” 
 
 “ That’s downright missionary, and will find 
 little favor up in this part of the country, where 
 the Moravians don’t congregate. Now, skin 
 makes the man. This is reason ; else how are 
 people to judge of each other ? The skin is put 
 on, over all, in order that when a creatur’, or a 
 mortal, is fairly seen, you may know at once 
 what to make of him. You know a bear from a 
 hog by his skin, and a gray squirrel from a 
 black.” 
 
 “ True, Hurry,” said the other, looking back 
 and smiling, “ nevertheless, they are both squir- 
 rels.” 
 
 “ Who denies it ? But you’ll not say that a 
 red man and a white man are both Injins ? ” 
 
 “ No ; but I do say they are both men. Men 
 of different races and colors, and having different 
 gifts and traditions, but, in the main, with the 
 same natur’ Both have souls ; and both will be 
 held accountable for their deeds in this life.” 
 
 Hurry was one of those theorists who be- 
 lieved in the inferiority of all the human race 
 who were not white. His notions on the subject 
 were not very clear, nor were his definitions at 
 all well settled ; but his opinions were none the 
 less dogmatical or fierce. His conscience accused 
 him of sundry lawless acts against the Indians, 
 and he had found it an exceedingly easy mode of 
 quieting it by putting the whole family of red 
 men, incontinently, without the category of hu- 
 man rights. Nothing angered him sooner than 
 to deny his proposition, more especially if the de- 
 nial were accompanied by a show of plausible 
 argument; and he did not listen to his com- 
 
26 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 panion’s remarks with much composure of either 
 manner or feeling. 
 
 “ You're a boy, Deerslayer, misled and mis- 
 consaited by Delaware arts and missionary igno- 
 rance ! ” he exclaimed, with his usual indiffer- 
 ence to the forms of speech when excited. “ You 
 may account yourself as a red-skin’s brother, but 
 / hold ’em all to be animals ; with nothing hu- 
 man about ’em but cunning. That they have, 
 I’ll allow ; but so has a fox, or even a bear. I’m 
 older than you, and have lived longer in the 
 woods — or, for that matter, have lived always 
 there, and am not to be told what an Injin is or 
 what he is not. If you wish to be considered a 
 savage, you’ve only to say so, and I’ll name you 
 as such to Judith and the old man, and then 
 we’ll see how you’ll like your welcome.” 
 
 Here Hurry’s imagination did his temper 
 some service, since, by conjuring up the recep- 
 tion his semi-aquatic acquaintance would be 
 likely to bestow on one thus introduced, he burst 
 into a hearty fit of laughter. Deerslayer too well 
 knew the uselessness of attempting to convince 
 such a being of any thing against his prejudices, 
 to feel a desire to undertake the task ; and he 
 was not sorry that the approach of the canoe to 
 the southeastern curve of the lake gave a new di- 
 rection to his ideas. They were now, indeed, 
 quite near the place that March had pointed out 
 for the position of the outlet, and both began to 
 look for it with a curiosity that was increased by 
 the expectation of finding the ark. 
 
 It may strike the reader as a little singular, 
 that the place where a stream of any size passed 
 through banks that had an elevation of some 
 twenty feet, should be a matter of doubt with men 
 who could not now have been more than two hun- 
 dred yards distant from the precise spot. It will 
 be recollected, however, that the trees and bushes 
 here, as elsewhere, fairly overhung the water, 
 making such a fringe to the lake as to conceal 
 any little variations from its general outline. 
 
 “ I’ve not been down at this end of the lake 
 these two summers,” said Hurry, standing up in 
 the canoe, the better to look about him. “ Ay, 
 there’s the rock, showing its chin above the wa- 
 ter, and I know that the river begins in its neigh- 
 borhood.” 
 
 The men now plied the paddles again, and 
 they were presently within a few yards of the 
 rock, floating toward it, though their efforts were 
 suspended. This rock was not large, being merely 
 some five or six feet high, only half of which ele- 
 vation rose above the lake. The incessant wash- 
 ing of the water for centuries had so rounded its 
 summit, that it resembled a large beehive in 
 
 shape, its form being more than usually regular 
 and even. Hurry remarked, as they floated slowly 
 past, that this rock was well known to all the In- 
 dians in that part of the country, and that they 
 were in the practice of using it as a mark to des- 
 ignate the place of meeting when separated by 
 their hunts and marches. 
 
 “ And here is the river, Deerslayer,” he con- 
 tinued, “ though so shut in by trees and bushes 
 as to look more like an and-bush than the outlet 
 of such a sheet as the Glimmerglass.” 
 
 Hurry had not badly described the place, 
 which did truly seem to be a stream lying in am- 
 bush. The high banks might have been a hun- 
 dred feet asunder ; but, on the western side, a 
 small bit of lowland extended so far forward as 
 to diminish the breadth of the stream to half that 
 width. As the bushes hung in the water be- 
 neath, and pines that had the stature of church- 
 steeples rose in tall columns above, all inclining 
 toward the light until their branches intermingled, 
 the eye, at a little distance, could not easily de- 
 tect any opening in the shore to mark the egress 
 of the water. In the forest above, no traces of 
 this outlet were to be seen from the lake, the 
 whole presenting the same connected and seem- 
 ingly interminable carpet of leaves. As the ca- 
 noe slowly advanced, sucked in by the current, 
 it entered beneath an arch of trees, through 
 which the light from the heavens struggled by 
 casual openings, faintly relieving the gloom be- 
 neath. 
 
 “ This is a nat’ral and-bush,” half whispered 
 Hurry, as if he felt that the place was devoted to 
 secrecy and watchfulness ; “ depend on it, old 
 Tom has burrowed with the ark somewhere in 
 this quarter. We will drop down with the cur- 
 rent a short distance, and ferret him out.” 
 
 “This seems no place for a vessel of any 
 size,” returned the other; “it appears to me 
 that we shall have hardly room enough for the 
 canoe.” 
 
 Hurry laughed at the suggestion, and, as it 
 soon appeared, with reason ; for the fringe of 
 bushes immediately on the shore of the lake was 
 no sooner passed, than the adventurers found them- 
 selves in a narrow stream, of a sufficient depth of 
 limpid water, with a strong current, and a canopy 
 of leaves, upheld by arches composed of the limbs 
 of hoary trees. Bushes lined the shores, as 
 usual, but they left sufficient space between them 
 to admit the passage of any thing that did not 
 exceed twenty feet in width, and to allow of a 
 perspective ahead of eight or ten times that dis- 
 tance. 
 
 Neither of our two adventurers used his pad* 
 
AN AGREEABLE SURPRISE. 
 
 die, except to keep the light bark in the centre 
 of the current, but both watched each turning of 
 the stream, of which there were two or three 
 within the first hundred yards, with jealous vigi- 
 lance. Turn after turn, however, was passed, and 
 the canoe had dropped down with the current 
 some little distance, when Hurry caught a bush, 
 and arrested its movement, so suddenly and si- 
 lently, as to denote some unusual motive for the 
 act. Deerslayer laid his hand on the stock of his 
 rifle, as soon as he noted this proceeding ; but it 
 was quite as much with a hunter’s habit as from 
 any feeling of alarm. 
 
 “ There the old fellow is ! ” whispered Hurry, 
 pointing with a finger, and laughing heartily, 
 though he carefully avoided making a noise, 
 “ratting it away, just as I supposed ; up to his 
 knees in the mud and water, looking to the traps 
 and the bait. But, for the life of me, I can see 
 nothing of the ark ; though I’ll bet every skin I 
 take this season, Jude isn’t trusting her pretty 
 little feet in the neighborhood of that black mud. 
 The gal’s more likely to be braiding her hair by 
 the side of some spring, where she can see her 
 own good looks, and collect scornful feelings ag’in 
 us men.” 
 
 “ You over-judge young women — yes, you do, 
 Hurry — who as often bethink them of their fail- 
 ings as they do of their perfections. I dare to 
 say, this Judith, now, is no such admirer of her- 
 self, and no such scomer of our sex, as you seem 
 to think ; and that she is quite as likely to be 
 sarving her father in the house, wherever that 
 may be, as he is to be sarving her among the 
 traps.” 
 
 “ It’s a pleasure to hear truth from a man’s 
 tongue, if it be only once in a girl’s life,” cried a 
 pleasant, rich, and yet soft female voice, so near 
 the canoe as to make both the listeners start. 
 “ As for you, Master Hurry, fair words are so apt 
 to choke you, that I no longer expect to hear 
 them from your mouth ; the last you uttered 
 sticking in your throat, and coming near to death. 
 But I’m glad to see you keep better society than 
 formerly, and that they who know how to esteem 
 and treat women are not ashamed to journey in 
 your company.” 
 
 As this was said, a singularly handsome and 
 youthful female face was thrust through an open- 
 ing in the leaves, within reach of Deerslayer’s 
 paddle. Its owner smiled graciously on the young 
 man; and the frown that she cast on Hurry, 
 though simulated and pettish, had the effect to 
 render her beauty more striking, by exhibiting 
 the play of an expressive but capricious counte- 
 nance ; one that seemed to change from the soft 
 
 27 
 
 to the severe, the mirthful to the reproving, with 
 facility and indifference. 
 
 A second look explained the nature of the 
 surprise. Unwittingly, the men had dropped along- 
 side of the ark, which ha$ been purposely con- 
 cealed in bushes cut and arranged for the pur- 
 pose ; and Judith Hutter had merely pushed 
 aside the leaves that lay before a window, in or- 
 der to show her face, and speak to them. 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 “ And that timid fawn starts not with fear, 
 
 When I steal to her secret bower ; 
 
 And that young May violet to me is dear, 
 
 And I visit the silent streamlet near, 
 
 To look on the lovely flower.” 
 
 Bryant. 
 
 The ark, as the floating habitation of the 
 Hutters was generally called, was a very simple 
 contrivance. A large flat, or scow, composed 
 the buoyant part of the vessel ; and, in its centre, 
 occupying the whole of its breadth, and about 
 two-thirds of its length, stood a low fabric, re- 
 sembling the castle in construction, though made 
 of materials so light as barely to be bullet-proof. 
 As the sides of the scow were a little higher than 
 usual, and the interior of the cabin had no more 
 elevation than was necessary for comfort, this 
 unusual addition had neither a very clumsy nor a 
 very obtrusive appearance. It was, in short, lit- 
 tle more than a modern canal-boat, though more 
 rudely constructed, of greater breadth than com- 
 mon, and bearing about it the signs of the wilder- 
 ness, in its bark-covered posts and roof. The 
 scow, however, had been put together with some 
 skill, being comparatively light, for its strength, 
 and sufficiently manageable. The cabin was di- 
 vided into two apartments, one of which served 
 for a parlor and the sleeping-room of the father, 
 and the other was appropriated to the uses of the 
 daughter. A very simple arrangement sufficed 
 for the kitchen, which was in one end of the 
 scow, and removed from the cabin, standing in 
 the open air ; the ark being altogether a summer 
 habitation. 
 
 The “ and-bush, 1 ’ as Hurry, in his ignorance 
 of English, termed it, is quite as easily explained. 
 In many parts of the lake and river, where the 
 banks were steep and high, the smaller trees and 
 larger bushes, as has been already mentioned, 
 fairly overhung the stream, their branches not 
 unfrequently dipping into the water. In some 
 instances they grew out in nearly horizontal lines, 
 
28 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 for thirty or forty feet. The water being uni- 
 formly deepest near the shores, where the banks 
 were highest and the nearest to a perpendicu- 
 lar, Hutter had found no difficulty in letting the 
 ark drop under one of these covers, where it 
 had been anchored with a view to conceal its po- 
 sition ; security requiring some such precautions, 
 in his view of the case. Once beneath the trees 
 and bushes, a few stones fastened to the ends of 
 the branches had caused them to bend sufficiently 
 to dip into the river ; and a few severed bushes, 
 properly disposed, did the rest. The reader has 
 seen that this cover was so complete as to deceive 
 two men accustomed to the woods, and who were 
 actually in search of those it concealed ; a cir- 
 cumstance that will be easily understood by those 
 who are familiar with the matted and wild luxuri- 
 ance of a virgin American forest, more especially 
 in a rich soil. 
 
 The discovery of the ark produced very dif- 
 ferent effects on our two adventurers. As soon 
 as the canoe could be got round to the proper 
 opening, Hurry leaped on board, and in a minute 
 was closely engaged in a gay and a sort of re- 
 criminating discourse with Judith, apparently 
 forgetful of the existence of all the rest of the 
 world. Not so with Deerslayer. He entered the 
 ark with a slow, cautious step, examining every 
 arrangement of the cover with curious and scru- 
 tinizing eyes. It is true, he cast one admiring 
 glance at Judith, which was extorted by her brill- 
 iant and singular beauty; but even this could 
 detain him but a single instant from the indul- 
 gence of his interest in Hutter’s contrivances. 
 Step by step did he look into the construction of 
 the singular abode, investigate 'its fastenings and 
 strength, ascertain its means of defence, and 
 make every inquiry that would be likely to occur 
 to one whose thoughts dwelt principally on such 
 expedients. Nor was the cover neglected. Of 
 this he examined the whole minutely, his com- 
 mendation escaping him more than once, in audi- 
 ble comments. Frontier usages admitting of this 
 familiarity, he passed through the rooms as he had 
 previously done at the castle; and, opening a 
 door, issued into the end of the scow opposite to 
 that where he had left Hurry and Judith. Here 
 he found the other sister, employed on some 
 coarse needlework, seated beneath the leafy can- 
 opy of the cover. 
 
 As Deerslayer’s examination was by this time 
 ended, he dropped the butt of his rifle, and, lean- 
 ing on the barrel with both hands, he turned tow- 
 ard the girl with an interest the singular beauty 
 of her sister had not awakened. He had gathered 
 'roxn Hurry’s remarks that Hetty was considered 
 
 to have less intellect than ordinarily falls to the 
 share of human beings ; and his education among 
 Indians had taught him to treat those who were 
 thus afflicted by Providence, with more than 
 common tenderness. Nor was there any thing in 
 Hetty Hutter’s appearance, as so often happens, 
 to weaken the interest her situation excited. An 
 idiot she could not properly be termed, her mind 
 being just enough enfeebled to lose most of those 
 traits that are connected with the more artful 
 qualities, and to retain its ingenuousness and love 
 of truth. It had often been remarked of this girl, 
 by the few who had seen her, and who possessed 
 sufficient knowledge to discriminate, that her per- 
 ception of the right seemed almost intuitive, while 
 her aversion to the wrong formed so distinctive a 
 feature of her mind as to surround her with an 
 atmosphere of pure morality; peculiarities that 
 are not unfrequent with persons who are termed 
 feeble-minded ; as if God had forbidden the evil 
 spirits to invade a precinct so defenceless, with 
 the benign purpose of extending a direct protec- 
 tion to those who had been left without the usual 
 aids of humanity. Her person, too, was agree- 
 able, having a strong resemblance to that of her 
 sister, of which it was a subdued and humble 
 copy. If it had none of the brilliancy of Judith’s, 
 the calm, quiet, almost holy expression of her 
 meek countenance, seldom failed to win on the 
 observer ; and fexv noted it long, that did not begin 
 to feel a deep and lasting interest in the girl. She 
 had no color, in common, nor was her simple 
 mind apt to present images that caused her cheek 
 to brighten ; though she retained a modesty so 
 innate, that it almost raised her to the unsuspect- 
 ing purity of a being superior to human infirmities. 
 Guileless, innocent, and without distrust, equally 
 by nature and from her mode of life, Providence 
 had, nevertheless, shielded her from harm by a 
 halo of moral light, as it is said to “ temper the 
 wind to the shorn lamb.” 
 
 “You are Hetty Hutter,” said Deerslayer, in 
 the way one puts a question unconsciously to 
 himself, assuming a kindness of tone and manner 
 that were singularly adapted to win the confidence 
 of her he addressed. “ Hurry Harry has told me 
 of you, and I know you must be the child ? ” 
 
 “Yes, I’m Hetty Hutter,” returned the girl, 
 in a low, sweet voice, which Nature, aided by 
 some education, had preserved from vulgarity of 
 tone and utterance; “I’m Hetty; Judith Hutter’s 
 sister, and Thomas Hutter’s youngest daughter.” 
 
 “ I know your history, then, for Hurry Harry 
 talks considerable, and he is free of speech, when 
 he can find other people’s consams to dwell on 
 You pass most of your life on the lake, Hettv ? ” 
 
HETTY HUTTER AND THE STRANGER. 
 
 29 
 
 “Certainly. Mother is dead; father is gone 
 %-trapping, and Judith and I stay at home. 
 What’s your name ? ” 
 
 “ That’s a question more easily asked than it 
 is answered, young woman ; seeing that I’m so 
 young, and yet have borne more names than some 
 of the greatest chiefs in all America.” 
 
 “But you’ve got a name — you don’t throw 
 away one name before you come honestly by 
 another ? ” 
 
 “I hope not, gal — I hope not. My names 
 have come nat’ rally ; and I suppose the one I bear 
 uow will be of no great lasting, since the Dela- 
 wares seldom settle on a man’s ra’al title, until 
 such time as he has an opportunity of showing 
 his true natur’, in the council or on the war-path ; 
 which has never behappened me : seeing, firstly, 
 because I’m not born a red-skin, and have no right 
 to sit in their councillings, and am much too 
 humble to be called on for opinions from the great 
 of my own color ; and, secondly, because this is 
 the first war that has befallen in my time, and no 
 inimy has yet inroaded far enough into the colony, 
 to be reached by an arm even longer than mine.” 
 
 “ Tell me your names,” added Hetty, looking 
 up at him artlessly, “and, maybe, I’ll tell you 
 your character.” 
 
 “ There is some truth in that, I’ll not deny, 
 though it often fails. Men are deceived in other 
 men’s characters, and frequently give ’em names 
 they by no means desarve. You can see the 
 truth of this in the Mingo names, which, in their 
 own tongue, signify the same things as the Dela- 
 ware names — at least, so they tell me, for I know 
 little of that tribe, unless it be by report — and 
 no one can say they are as honest or as upright 
 a nation. I put no great dependence, therefore, 
 on names.” 
 
 “ Tell me all your names,” repeated the girl, 
 earnestly, for her mind was too simple to separate 
 things from professions, and she did attach im- 
 portance to a name ; “ I want to know what to 
 think of you.” 
 
 “Well, sartain; I’ve no objection, and you 
 shall hear them all. In the first place, then, I’m 
 Christian, and white-born, like yourself, and my 
 parents, had a name that came down from father 
 to son, as is a part of their gifts. My father was 
 called Bumppo ; and I was named after him, of 
 course, the given name being Nathaniel, or Natty, 
 as most people saw fit to tarm it.” 
 
 “Yes, yes — Natty — and Hetty ” — interrupted 
 the girl quickly, and, looking up from her work 
 again, with a smile ; “ you are Natty, and I’m 
 Hetty — though you are Bumppo, and I’m Hutter. 
 Bumppo isn’t as pretty as Hutter, is it? ” 
 
 “ Why, that’s as people fancy. Bumppo has 
 no loftly sound, I admit; and yet men have 
 bumped through the world with it. I did not go 
 by this name, however, very long ; for the Dela- 
 wares soon found out, or thought they found out, 
 that I was not given to lying, and they called me. 
 firstly, Straight-tongue.” 
 
 “That’s a good name,” interrupted Hetty, 
 earnestly, and in a positive manner ; “ don’t tell 
 me there’s no virtue in names ! ” 
 
 “ I do not say that , for perhaps I desarved to 
 be so called, lies being no favorites with me, as 
 they are with some. After a while they found 
 out that I was quick of foot, and then they called 
 me ‘ The Pigeon ; ’ which, you know, has a swift 
 wing, and flies in a direct line.” 
 
 “ That was a pretty name ! ” exclaimed Hetty ; 
 “ pigeons are pretty birds ! ” 
 
 “ Most things that God has created are pretty, 
 in their way, my good gal, though they get to be 
 deformed by mankind, so as to change their na- 
 tur’s, as well a3 their appearance. From carry- 
 ing messages, and striking blind trails, I got, at 
 last, to following the hunters, when it was thought 
 I was quicker and surer at finding the game than 
 most lads, and then they called me the ‘ Lap-ear • ’ 
 as, they said, I partook of the sagacity of a 
 hound.” 
 
 “ That’s not so pretty,” answered Hetty ; “ I 
 hope you didn’t keep that name long.” 
 
 “ Not after I was rich enough to buy a rifle,” 
 returned the other, betraying a little pride 
 through his usually quiet and subdued manner ; 
 “ then it was seen I could keep a wigwam in 
 ven’son ; and, in time, I got the name of ‘ Deer- 
 slayer,’ which is that I now bear ; homely as 
 some will think it, who set Inore valie on the 
 scalp of a fellow-mortal than on the horns of a 
 buck.” 
 
 “ Well, Deerslayer, I’m not one of them,” an- 
 swered Hetty, simply; “Judith likes soldiers, 
 and flary coats, and fine feathers ; but they’re all 
 naught to me. She says the officers are great, 
 and gay, and of soft speech ; but they make me 
 shudder, for their business is to kill their fellow- 
 creatures. I like your calling better ; and your 
 last name is a very good one — better than Natty 
 Bumppo.” 
 
 “ This is nat’ral, in one of your turn of mind, 
 Hetty, and much as I should have expected 
 They tell me your sister is handsome — oncom- 
 mon, for a mortal ; and beauty is apt to seek ad- 
 miration.” 
 
 “ Did yon never see Judith ? ” demanded the 
 girl, with quick earnestness ; “ if you never have, 
 go at once and look at her Even Hurry Harry 
 
30 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 isn’t more pleasant to look at ; though she is a 
 woman, and he is a man.” 
 
 Deerslayer regarded the girl, for a moment, 
 with concern. Her pale face had flushed a little, 
 and her eye, usually so mild and serene, bright- 
 ened as she spoke, in the way to betray the in- 
 ward impulses. 
 
 “Ay, Hurry Harry,” he muttered to himself, 
 as he walked through the cabin, toward the other 
 end of the boat ; “ this comes of good looks, if 
 a light tongue has had no consarn in it. It’s easy 
 to see which way that poor creatur's feelin’s are 
 leanin’, whatever may be the case with your 
 Jude’s.” 
 
 But an interruption was put to the gallantry 
 of Hurry — the coquetry of his mistress — the 
 thoughts of Deerslayer, and the gentle feelings 
 of Hetty, by the sudden appearance of the canoe 
 of the ark’s owner, in the narrow opening among 
 the bushes, that served as a sort of moat to his 
 position. It would seem that Hutter, or Floating 
 Tom, as he was familiarly called by all the hunt- 
 ers who knew his habits, recognized the canoe of 
 Hurry, for he expressed no surprise at finding 
 him in the scow. On the contrary, his reception 
 was such as to denote not only gratification, but 
 a pleasure, mingled with a little disappointment 
 at his not having made his appearance some days 
 sooner. 
 
 “ I looked for you last week,” he said, in a 
 half-grumbling, half-welcoming manner; “and 
 was disappointed uncommonly that you didn’t 
 arrive. There came a runner through, to warn 
 all the trappers and hunters that the colony and 
 the Canadas were again in trouble ; and I felt 
 lonesome, up in these mountains, with three 
 scalps to see to, abd only one pair of hands to 
 protect them.” 
 
 “ That’s reasonable,” returned March ; “ and 
 ’twas feeling like a parent. No doubt, if I had 
 two such darters as Judith and Hetty, my exper’- 
 ence would tell the same story, though, in gin’ral, 
 I am just as well satisfied with having the near- 
 est neighbor fifty miles off, as when he is within 
 call.” 
 
 “ Notwithstanding, you didn’t choose to. come 
 into the wilderness alone, now you knew that the 
 Canada savages are likely to be stirring,” re- 
 turned Hutter, giving a sort of distrustful, and at 
 the same time inquiring glance at Deerslayer. 
 
 “ Why should I ? They say a bad companion, 
 on a journey, helps to shorten the path ; and this 
 young man I account to be a reasonably good 
 one. — This is Deerslayer, old Tom, a noted hunter 
 among the Delawares, and Christian-born, and 
 Christian edicated, too, like you and me. The 
 
 lad is not parfei t, perhaps, but there’s worse men 
 in the country that he came from, and it’s likely 
 he’ll find some that’s no better, in this part of 
 the world. Should we have occasion to defend 
 our traps, and the territory, he’ll be useful in 
 feeding us all; for he’s a regular dealer in 
 ven’son.” 
 
 “Young man, you are welcome,” growled 
 Tom, thrusting a hard, bony hand toward the 
 youth, as a pledge of his sincerity; “in such 
 times, a white-face is a friend’s, and I count on 
 you as a support. Children sometimes make a 
 stout heart feeble, and these two daughters of 
 mine give me more concern than all my traps, 
 and skins, and rights in the country.” 
 
 “ That’s nat’ral ! ” cried Hurry. — “ Yes, Deer- 
 slayer, you and I don’t know it yet by experi- 
 ence; but, on the whole, I consider that as 
 nat’ral. If we had darters, it’s more than prob- 
 able we should have some such feelin’s ; and I 
 honor the man that owns ’em. — As for Judith, 
 old man, I enlist, at once, as her soldier, and 
 here is Deerslayer to help you to take care of 
 Hetty.” 
 
 “Many thanks to you, Master March,” re- 
 turned the beauty, in a full, rich voice, and with 
 an accuracy of intonation and utterance that she 
 shared in common with her sister, and which 
 showed that she had been better taught than her 
 father’s life and appearance would give reason to 
 expect — “many thanks to you; but Judith Hut- 
 ter has the spirit and the experience that will 
 make her depend more on herself than on good- 
 looking rovers like you. Should there be need 
 to face the savages, do you land with my father, 
 instead of burrowing in the huts, under the show 
 of defending us females, and— ” 
 
 “Girl — girl,” interrupted the father, “quiet 
 that glib tongue of thine, and hear the truth. 
 There are savages on the lake-shore already, and 
 no man can say how near to us they may be at 
 this very moment, or when we may hear more 
 from them ! ” 
 
 “ If this be true, Master Hutter,” said Hurry, 
 whose change of countenance denoted how seri- 
 ous he deemed the information, though it did not 
 denote any unmanly alarm, “if this be trap, your 
 ark is in a most misfortunate position, for, though 
 the cover did deceive Deerslayer and myself, it 
 would hardly be overlooked by a full-blooded 
 Injin, who was out seriously in s’arch of scalps ! ” 
 
 “ I think as you do, Hurry, and wish, with all 
 my heart, we lay anywhere else, at this moment, 
 than in this narrow, crooked stream, which has 
 many advantages to hide in, but which is almost 
 fatal to them that are discovered. The savages 
 
DEERSLAYER’S APPOINTMENT WITH CHINGACHGOOK. 
 
 31 
 
 are near us, moreover, and the difficulty is, to get 
 out of the river without being shot down like 
 deer standing at a lick ! ” 
 
 “ Are you sartin, Master Hutter, that the red- 
 skins you dread are ra’al Canadas ? ” asked 
 Deerslayer, in a modest but earnest manner. 
 “ Have you seen any, and can you describe their 
 paint ? ” 
 
 “ I have fallen in with the signs of their be- 
 ing in the neighborhood, but have seen none of 
 ’em. I was down-stream a mile or so, looking to 
 my traps, when I struck a fresh trail, crossing 
 the corner of a swamp, and moving northward. 
 The man had not passed an hour ; and I know’d 
 it for an Indian footstep, by the size of the foot, 
 and the intoe, even before I found a worn mocca- 
 sin, which its owner had dropped as useless. 
 For that matter, I found the spot where he halted 
 to make a new one, which was only a few yards 
 from the place where he had dropped the old 
 one.” 
 
 “ That doesn’t look much like a red-skin on 
 the war-path,” returned the other, shaking his 
 head. “ An exper’enced warrior, at least, would 
 have burned, or buried, or sunk in the river, such 
 3igns of his passage ; and your trail is, quite like- 
 ly, a peaceable trail. But the moccasin may 
 greatly relieve my mind, if you bethought you 
 of bringing it off. I’ve come here to meet a 
 young chief myself; and his course would be 
 much in the direction you’ve mentioned. The 
 trail may have been his’n.” 
 
 “ Hurry Harry, you’re well acquainted with 
 this young man, I hope, who has meetings with 
 savages in a part of the country where he has 
 never been before ? ” demanded Hutter, in a tone 
 and in a manner that sufficiently indicated the 
 motive of the question ; these rude beings seldom 
 hesitating, on the score of delicacy, to betray 
 their feelings. “ Treachery is an Indian virtue ; 
 and the whites, that live much in their tribes, 
 soon catch their ways and practices.” 
 
 “ True — true as the Gospel, oul Tom ; but not 
 personable to Deerslayer, who’s a young man of 
 truth, if he has no other ricommend. I’ll answer 
 for his honesty , whatever I may do for his valor in 
 battle.” 
 
 “ I should like to know his errand in this 
 strange quarter of the country.” 
 
 “ That is soon told, Master Hutter,” said the 
 young man, with the composure of one who kept 
 a clean conscience. “ I think, moreover, you’ve 
 a right to ask it. The father of two such darters, 
 who occupies a lake, after your fashion, has just 
 the same right to inquire into a stranger’s busi- 
 ness in his neighborhood, as the colony would 
 3 
 
 have to demand the reason why the Frenchers 
 put more rijiments than common along the lines. 
 No, no, I’ll not deny your right to know why a 
 stranger comes into your habitation or country 
 in times as serious as these.” 
 
 “ If such i 3 your way of thinking, friend, let 
 me hear your story without more words.” 
 
 “ ’Tis soon told, as I said afore ; and shall be 
 honestly told. I’m a young man, and as yet have 
 never been on a war-path ; but no sooner did the 
 news come among the Delawares that wampum 
 and a hatchet were about to be sent into the tribe, 
 than they wished me to go out among the people 
 of my own color, and get the exact state of things 
 for ’em. This I did ; and, after delivering my 
 talk to the chiefs, on my return I met an officer 
 of the crown on the Schoharie, who had moneys 
 to send to some of the friendly tribes, that live 
 farther west. This was thought a good occasion 
 for Chingachgook, a young chief who has never 
 struck a foe, and myself, to go on our first war- 
 path in company ; and an app’intment was made 
 for us, by an old Delaware, to meet at the rock 
 near the foot of this lake. I’ll not deny that 
 Chingachgook has another object in view, but it 
 has no consarn with any here, and h his secret, 
 and not mine ; therefore, I’ll say no more about 
 it.” 
 
 “ ’Tis something about a young woman,” in- 
 terrupted Judith, hastily ; then laughing at her 
 own impetuosity, and even having the grace to 
 color a little at the manner in which she had be- 
 trayed her readiness to impute such a motive. 
 “ If ’tis neither war nor a hunt, it must be love.” 
 
 “ Ay, it comes easy for the young and hand- 
 some, who hear so much of them feelin’s, to sup- 
 pose that they lie at the bottom of most proceed- 
 in’s ; but, on that head, I say nothin’. Chingach- 
 gook is to meet me at the rock an hour afore sun- 
 set to-morrow evening, after which we shall go 
 our way together, molesting none but the king’s 
 inimies, who are lawfully our own. Knowing 
 Hurry of old, who once trapped in our hunting- 
 grounds, and falling in with him on the Schoharie, 
 just as he was on the p’int of starting for his sum- 
 mer ha’nts, we agreed to journey in company; 
 not so much from fear of the Mingoes as from good 
 fellowship, and, as he says, to shorten a long 
 road.” 
 
 “And you think the trail I saw may have 
 been that of your friend, ahead of his time ? ” 
 said Hutter. 
 
 “ That’s my idee ; which may be wrong, but 
 which may be right. If I saw the moccasin, how- 
 ever, I could tell in a minute whether it is made 
 in the Delaware fashion or not.” 
 
THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 32 
 
 “ Here it is, then,” said the quick-witted Ju- 
 Qith, who had already gone to the canoe in quest 
 of it ; “ tell us what it says, friend or enemy. 
 Y ou look honest ; and I believe all you say, what- 
 ever father may think.” 
 
 . “ That’s the way with you, Jude ; forever 
 finding out friends, where I distrust foes,” grum- 
 bled Tom. — “ But speak out young man, and tell 
 us what you think of the moccasin.” 
 
 “That’s not Delaware-made,” returned Deer- 
 slayer, examining the worn and rejected covering 
 for the foot with a cautious eye ; “ I’m too young 
 on a war-path to be positive, but I should say 
 that moccasin has a northern look, and comes 
 from beyond the great lakes.” 
 
 If such is the case, we ought not to lie here 
 a minute longer than is necessary,” said Hutter, 
 glancing through the leaves of his cover, as if he 
 already distrusted the presence of an enemy on 
 the opposite shore of the narrow and sinuous 
 stream. “ It wants but an hour or so of night, 
 and to move in the dark will be impossible, with- 
 out making a noise that would betray us. Did 
 you hear the echo of a piece in the mountains, 
 half an hour since ? ” 
 
 “Yes, old man, and heard the piece itself,” 
 answered Hurry, who now felt the indiscretion 
 of which he had been guilty, “ for the last was 
 fired from my own shoulder.” 
 
 “ I feared it came from the French Indians ; 
 still, it may put them on the lookout, and be a 
 means of discovering us. You did wrong to fire, 
 in war-time, unless there was good occasion.” 
 
 “ So I begin to think myself, Uncle Tom ; and 
 yet, if a man can’t trust himself to let off his rifle 
 in a wilderness that is a thousand miles square, 
 lest some inimy should hear it, where ’s the use 
 in carrying one ? ” 
 
 Hutter now held a long consultation with his 
 two guests, in which the parties came to a true 
 understanding of their situation. He explained 
 the difficulty that would exist in attempting to 
 get the ark out of so swift and narrow a stream, 
 in the dark, without making a noise that could 
 not fail to attract Indian ears. Any strollers, in 
 their vicinity, would keep near the river or the 
 lake ; but the former had swampy shores in many 
 places, and was both so crooked and so fringed 
 with bushes, that it was quite possible to move 
 by daylight without incurring much danger of 
 being seen. More was to be apprehended, per- 
 haps, from the ear than from the eye, especially 
 as long as they were in the short, straitened, and 
 canopied reaches of the stream. 
 
 “ I never drop down into this cover, which is 
 handy to my traps, and safer than the lake, from 
 
 curious eyes, without providing the means of get- 
 ting out ag’in,” continued this singular being; 
 “ and that is easier done by a pull than a push. 
 My anchor is now lying above the suction, in the 
 open lake ; and here is a line, you see, to haul us 
 up to it. Without some such help, a single pair 
 of hands would make heavy work, in forcing a 
 scow like this up-stream. I have a sort of a crab, 
 too, that lightens the pull, on occasion. Jude can 
 use the oar astarn, as well as myself ; and, when 
 we fear no enemy, to get out of the river gives 
 us but little trouble ” 
 
 “What should we gain, Master Hutter, by 
 changing the position ? ” asked Deerslayer, with 
 a good deal of earnestness ; “ this is a safe cover ; 
 and a stout defence might be made from the in- 
 side of this cabin. I’ve never fou’t, unless in the 
 way of tradition ; but, it seems to me, we might 
 beat off twenty Mingoes with palisades like them 
 afore us.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay ; you’ve never fought, except in tra- 
 ditions, that’s plain enough, young man ! Did 
 you ever see as broad a sheet of water as this 
 above us, before you came in upon it with 
 Hurry ? ” 
 
 “ I can’t say that I ever did,” Deerslayer an- 
 swered, modestly. “ Youth is the time to l’arn ; 
 and I’m far from wishing to raise my voice in 
 counsel, afore it is justified by exper’ence.” 
 
 “Well, then, I’ll teach you the disadvantage 
 of fighting in this position, and the advantage of 
 taking to the open lake. Here, you may see, the 
 savages will know where to aim every shot ; and 
 it would be too much to hope that some would not 
 find their way through the crevices of the logs. 
 Now, on the other hand, we should have nothing 
 but a forest to aim at. Then we are not safe from 
 fire here ; the bark of this roof being little better 
 than so much kindling-wood. The castle, too, 
 might be entered and ransacked, in my absence, 
 and all my possessions overrun and destroyed. 
 Once in the lake, we can be attacked only in 
 boats, or on rafts — shall have a fair chance with 
 the enemy — and can protect the castle with the 
 ark. Do you understand this reasoning, young- 
 ster ? ” 
 
 “ It sounds well — yes, it has a rational sound ; 
 and I’ll not gainsay it.” 
 
 “Well, old Tom,” cried Hurry, “if we are to 
 move, the sooner we make a beginning, the soonei 
 we shall know whether we are to have our scalps 
 for nightcaps, or not.” 
 
 As this proposition was self-evident, no one 
 denied its justice. The three men, after a short 
 preliminary explanation, now set about their prep- 
 arations to move the ark in earnest. The slight 
 
AN INDIAN INTRUSION. 
 
 33 
 
 fastenings were quickly loosened ; and, by haul- 
 ing on the line, the heavy craft slowly emerged 
 from the cover. It was no sooner free from the 
 encumbrance of the branches, than it swung into 
 the stream, sheering quite close to the western 
 shore, by the force of the current. Not a soul on 
 board heard the rustling of the branches, as the 
 cabin came against the bushes and trees of the 
 western bank, without a feeling of uneasiness ; 
 for no one knew at what moment, or in what place, 
 a secret and murderous enemy might unmask him- 
 self. Perhaps the gloomy light that still struggled 
 through the impending canopy of leaves, or found 
 its way through the narrow, ribbon-like opening, 
 which seemed to mark, in the air above, the 
 course of the river that flowed beneath, aided in 
 augmenting the appearance of danger ; for it was 
 little more than sufficient to render objects visi- 
 ble, without giving up all their outlines at a glance. 
 Although the sun had not absolutely set, it had 
 withdrawn its direct rays from the valley; and 
 the hues of evening were beginning to gather 
 around objects that stood uncovered, rendering 
 those within the shadows of the woods still more 
 6ombre and gloomy. 
 
 No interruption followed the movement, how- 
 ever, and, as the men continued to haul on the 
 line, the ark passed steadily ahead, the great 
 breadth of the scow preventing its sinking into 
 the water, and from offering much resistance to 
 the progress of the swift element beneath its bot- 
 tom. Hutter, too, had adopted a precaution, sug- 
 gested by experience, which might have done 
 credit to a seaman, and which completely prevent- 
 ed any of the annoyances and obstacles which 
 otherwise would have attended the short turns of 
 the river. As the ark descended, heavy stones, 
 attached to the line, were dropped in the centre 
 of the stream, forming local anchors, each of which 
 was kept from dragging by the assistance of those 
 above it, until the uppermost of all was reached, 
 which got its “ backing ” from the anchor, or 
 grapnel, that lay well out in the lake. In conse- 
 quence of this expedient, the ark floated clear of 
 the encumbrances of the shore, against which it 
 would otherwise have been unavoidably hauled at 
 every turn, producing embarrassments that Hut- 
 ter, single-handed, would have found it very diffi- 
 cult to overcome. 
 
 Favored by this foresight, and stimulated by 
 the apprehension of discovery, Floating Tom and 
 his two athletic companions hauled the ark ahead 
 with quite as much rapidity as comported with 
 the strength of the line. At every turn in the 
 stream, a stone was raised from the bottom, when 
 .he direction of the scow changed to one that 
 R 
 
 pointed toward the stone that lay above. In this 
 manner, with the channel buoyed out for him, aa 
 a sailor might term it, did Hutter move forward, 
 occasionally urging his friends, in a low and 
 guarded voice, to increase their exertions, and 
 then, as occasions offered, warning them against 
 efforts that might, at particular moments, endan- 
 ger all by too much zeal. In spite of their long 
 familiarity with the woods, the gloomy character 
 of the shaded river added to the uneasiness that 
 each felt ; and when the ark reached the first 
 bend in the Susquehanna, and the eye caught a 
 glimpse of the broader expanse of the lake, all 
 felt a relief that perhaps none would have been 
 willing to confess. Here the last stone was raised 
 from the bottom, and the line led directly toward 
 the grapnel, which, as Hutter had explained, was 
 dropped above the suction of the current. 
 
 “Thank God!” ejaculated Hurry, “ there is 
 daylight, and we shall soon have a chance of see- 
 ing our inimies, if we are to feel ’em.” 
 
 “ That is more than you or any man can say,” 
 growled Hutter. “ There is no spot so likely to 
 harbor a party as the shore around the outlet ; 
 and the moment we clear these trees and get into 
 open water, will be the most trying time, since it 
 will leave the enemy a cover while it puts us out 
 of one. — Judith, girl, do you and Hetty leave the 
 oar to take care of itself, and go within the cabin ; 
 and be mindful not to show your faces at a win- 
 dow ; for they who will look at them won’t stop 
 to praise their beauty. — And now, Hurry, we’ll 
 step into this outer room ourselves, and haul 
 through the door, where we shall all be safe, from 
 a surprise at least. — Friend Deerslayer, as the cur- 
 rent is lighter, and the line has all the strain on 
 it that is prudent, do you keep moving from win- 
 dow to window, taking care not to let your head 
 be seen, if you set any value on life. No one 
 knows when or where we shall hear from our 
 neighbors.” 
 
 Deerslayer complied, with a sensation that had 
 nothing in common with fear, but which had all 
 the interest of a perfectly novel and a most excit- 
 ing situation. For the first time in his life he 
 was in the vicinity of enemies, or had good reason 
 to think so ; and that, too, under all the thrilling 
 circumstances of Indian surprises and Indian arti- 
 fices. As he took his stand at a window, the ark 
 was just passing through the narrowest part of the 
 stream, a point where the water first entered 
 what was properly termed the river, and where 
 the trees fairly interlocked overhead, causing 
 the current to rush into an arch of verdure ; 
 a feature as appropriate and peculiar to the 
 country, perhaps, as that of Switzerland, where 
 
34 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 the rivers come rushing literally from chambers 
 of ice. 
 
 The ark was in the act of passing the last 
 curve of this leafy entrance, as Deerslayer, having 
 examined all that could be seen of the eastern 
 bank of the river, crossed the room to look from 
 the opposite window, at the western. His arri- 
 val at this aperture was most opportune, lor he 
 had no sooner placed his eye at a crack, than a 
 sight met his gaze that might well have alarmed 
 a sentinel so young and inexperienced. A sap- 
 ling overhung the water, in nearly half a circle, 
 having first grown toward the light, and then been 
 pressed down into this form by the weight of 
 the snows ; a circumstance of common occurrence 
 in the American woods. On this no less than six 
 Indians had already appeared, others standing 
 ready to follow them, as they left room ; each 
 evidently bent on running out on the trunk, and 
 dropping on the roof of the ark as it passed be- 
 neath. This would have been an exploit of no 
 great difficulty, the inclination of the tree admit- 
 ting of an easy passage, the adjoining branches 
 offering ample support for the hands, and the 
 fall being too trifling to be apprehended. When 
 Deerslayer first saw this party, it was just un- 
 masking itself, by ascending the part of the tree 
 nearest to the earth, or that which was the most 
 difficult to overcome; and his knowledge of 
 Indian habits told him at once that they were all 
 in their war-paint, and belonged to a hostile 
 tribe. 
 
 “ Pull, Hurry,” he cried ; “ pull for your life, 
 and as you love Judith Hutter ! Pull, man, 
 puH ! ” 
 
 •This call was made to one that the young man 
 knew had the strength of a giant. It was so 
 earnest and solemn, that both Hutter and March 
 felt it was not idly given, and they applied all their 
 force to the line simultaneously, and at a most 
 critical moment. The scow redoubled its motion, 
 and seemed to glide from under the tree as if con- 
 scious of the danger that was impending over- 
 head. Perceiving that they were discovered, the 
 Indians uttered the fearful war-whoop, and, run- 
 ning forward on the tree, leaped desperately tow- 
 ard their fancied prize. There were six on the 
 tree, and each made the effort. All but their 
 leader fell into the river more or less distant from 
 the ark, as they came, sooner or later, to the leap- 
 ing-place. The chief, who had taken the danger- 
 ous post in advance, having an earlier opportunity 
 than the others, struck the scow just within the 
 stern. The fall proving so much greater than he 
 had anticipated, he was slightly stunned, and for 
 a moment he remained half bent and unconscious 
 
 of his situation. At this instant Judith rushed 
 from the cabin, her beauty heightened by the 
 excitement that produced the bold act, which 
 flushed her cheek to crimson, and, throwing all 
 her strength into the effort, she pushed the in- 
 truder over the edge of the scow, headlong into 
 the river. This decided feat was no sooner ac- 
 complished than the woman resumed her sway ; 
 Judith looked over the stern to ascertain what 
 had become of the man, and the expression of 
 her eyes softened to concern ; next, her cheek crim- 
 soned between shame and surprise, at her own 
 temerity ; and then she laughed in her own merry 
 and sweet manner. All this occupied less than a 
 minute, when the arm of Deerslayer was thrown 
 around her waist, and she was dragged swiftly 
 within the protection of the cabin. This retreat 
 was not effected too soon. Scarcely were the two 
 in safety, when the forest was filled with yells, 
 and bullets began to patter against the logs. 
 
 The ark being in swift motion all this while, 
 it was beyond the danger of pursuit by the time 
 these little events had occurred ; and the savages 5 
 as soon as the first burst of their anger had sub- 
 sided, ceased firing, with the consciousness that 
 they were expending their ammunition in vain. 
 When the scow came up over her grapnel, Hutter 
 tripped the latter, in a way not to impede the 
 motion; and being now beyond the influence of 
 the current, the vessel continued to drift ahead, 
 until fairly in the open lake, though still near 
 enough to the land to render exposure to a rifle- 
 bullet dangerous. Hutter and March got out two 
 small sweeps, and, covered by the cabin, they 
 soon urged the ark far enough from the shore to 
 leave no inducement to their enemies to make 
 any further attempt to injure them. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 “ Why, let the stricken deer go weep,’ 
 
 The hart ungalled play, 
 
 For some must watch, while some must sleep. 
 Thus runs the world away.” 
 
 SnAKESPEARM. 
 
 Another consultation took place in the for- 
 ward part of the scow, at which both Judith and 
 Hetty were present. As no danger could now 
 approach unseen, immediate uneasiness had given, 
 place to the concern which attended the convic- 
 tion that enemies were, in considerable force, on 
 the shores of the lake, and that they might be 
 sure no practicable means of accomplishing their 
 own destruction would be neglected. As a matter 
 of course, Hutter felt these truths the deepest, 
 
FLOATING TOM’S ANXIETY. 
 
 35 
 
 his daughters having an habitual reliance on his 
 resources, and knowing too little to appreciate 
 f ully all the risks they ran ; while his male com- 
 panions were at liberty to quit him at any mo- 
 ment they saw fit. His first remark showed that 
 he had an eye to the latter circumstance, and 
 might have betrayed, to a keen observer, the ap- 
 prehension that was just then uppermost. 
 
 “ We’ve a great advantage over the Iroquois, 
 or the enemy, whoever they are, in being afloat,” 
 he said. “ There’s not a canoe on the lake that 
 I don’t know where it’s hid ; and now yours is 
 here, Hurry, there are but three more on the land, 
 and they’re so snug in hollow logs that I don’t 
 believe the Indians could find them, let them try 
 ever so long.” 
 
 “There’s no telling that — no one can say 
 that,” put in Deerslayer ; “ a hound is not more 
 sartain on the scent than a red-skin, when he ex- 
 pects to get any thing by it. Let this party see 
 scalps afore ’em, or plunder, or honor, accordin’ 
 to their idees of what honor is, and ’twill be a 
 tight log that hides a canoe from their eyes.” 
 
 “You’re right, Deerslayer,” cried Harry 
 March ; “ you’re downright gospel in this matter, 
 and I rej’ice that my bunch of bark is safe enough 
 here, within reach of my arm. — I calcilate they’ll 
 be at all the rest of the canoes afore to-morrow 
 night, if they are in ra’al ’arnest to smoke you 
 nut, old Tom, and we may as well overhaul our 
 paddles, for a pull.” 
 
 Hutter made no immediate reply. He looked 
 about him in silence for quite a minute, examin- 
 ing the sky, the lake, and the belt of forest which 
 enclosed it, as it might be hermetically, like one 
 consulting their signs. Nor did he find any alarm- 
 ing symptoms. The boundless woods were sleep- 
 ing in the deep repose of Nature, the heavens 
 were placid, but still luminous with the light of 
 the retreating sun, while the lake looked more 
 lovely and calm than it had before done that day. 
 It was a scene altogether soothing, and of a char- 
 acter to lull the passions into a species of holy 
 calm. How far this effect was produced, however, 
 on the party in the ark, must appear in the prog- 
 ress of our narrative. 
 
 “ Judith,” called out the father, when he had 
 taken this close but short survey of the omens, 
 “night is at hand; find our friends food ; along 
 march gives a sharp appetite.” 
 
 “We’re not starving, Master Hutter,” March 
 abserved, “ for we filled up just as we reached 
 the lake, and, for one, I prefar the company of 
 Jude even to her supper. This quiet evening is 
 very agreeable to sit by her side.” 
 
 “Natur’ is natur,” objected Hutter, “and 
 
 must be fed. — Judith, see to the meal, and take 
 your sister to help you. — I’ve a little discourse to 
 hold with you, friends,” he continued, as soon as 
 his daughters were out of hearing, “ and wish the 
 girls away. You see my situation; and I should 
 like to hear your opinions concerning what is 
 best to be done. Three times have I been burnt 
 out already, but that was on the shore ; and I’ve 
 considered myself as pretty safe ever since I got 
 the castle built, and the ark afloat. My other 
 accidents, however, happened in peaceable times, 
 being nothing more than such flurries as a man 
 must meet with, in the woods ; but this matter 
 looks serious, and your ideas would greatly relieve 
 my mind.” 
 
 “ It’s my notion, old Tom, that you, and your 
 huts, and your traps, and your whole possessions, 
 hereaway, are in desperate jippardy,” returned 
 the matter-of-fact Hurry, who saw no use in con- 
 cealment. “Accordin’ to my idees of valie, 
 they’re altogether not worth half as much to-day 
 as they were yesterday, nor would I give much 
 for ’em, taking the pay in skins.” 
 
 “ Then I’ve children 1 ” continued the father, 
 making the allusion in a way that might have 
 puzzled even an indifferent observer to say was 
 intended as a bait, or as an exclamation of pa- 
 ternal concern, “ daughters, as you know, Hurry, 
 and good girls too, I may say, though I am their 
 father.” 
 
 “A man may say any thing, Master Hutter, 
 particularly when pressed by time and circum- 
 stances. You’ve darters, as you say, and one of 
 them hasn’t her equal on the frontiers for good 
 looks, whatever she may have for good behavior. 
 As for poor Hetty, she’s Hetty Hutter, and that’s 
 as much as one can say about the poor thing. 
 Give me Jude, if her conduct was only equal tc 
 her looks ! ” 
 
 “ I see, Harry March, I can only count on you 
 as a fair-weather friend ; and I suppose that your 
 companion will be of the same way of thinking,” 
 returned the other, with a slight show of pride, 
 that was not altogether without dignity ; “ well, I 
 must depend on Providence, which will not turn 
 a deaf ear, perhaps, to a father’s prayers.” 
 
 “ If you’ve understood Hurry, here, to mean 
 that he intends to desart you,” said Deerslayer, 
 with an earnest simplicity that gave double as- 
 surance of its truth, “ I think you do him injustice, 
 as I know you do me, in supposing I would follow 
 him was he so ontrue-hearted as to leave a family 
 of his own color in such a strait as this. I’ve 
 come on this lake, Master Hutter, to rende’vous 
 a fri’nd, and I only wish he was here himself, as 
 I make no doubt he will be at sunset to-morrow, 
 
36 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 when you’d have another rifle to aid you ; an in- 
 exper’enced one, I’ll allow, like my own, but one 
 that has proved true so often ag’in the game, big 
 and little, that I’ll answer for its sarvice ag’in 
 mortals.” 
 
 “ May I depend on you to stand by me and my 
 daughters, then, Deerslayer ? ” demanded the old 
 man, with a father’s anxiety in his countenance. 
 
 “ That may you, Floating Tom, if that’s your 
 name, and as a brother would stand by a sister, 
 a husband his wife, or a suitor his sweetheart. 
 In this strait you may count on me, through all 
 advarsities, and I think Hurry does discredit to 
 his natur’ and wishes, if you can’t count on him.” 
 
 “Not he,” cried Judith, thrusting her hand- 
 some face out of the door ; “ his nature is hurry, 
 as well as his name, and he’ll hurry off, as soon as 
 he thinks his fine figure in danger. Neither ‘ old 
 Tom,’ nor his ‘ gals,’ will depend much on Master 
 March, now they know him, but you they will 
 rely on, Deerslayer, for your honest face and your 
 honest heart tell us that what you promise you 
 will perform.” 
 
 This was said, as much, perhaps, in affected 
 scorn for Hurry, as in sincerity. Still, it was not 
 said without feeling. The fine face of Judith 
 sufficiently proved the latter circumstance, and if 
 the conscious March fancied that he had never 
 seen in it a stronger display of contempt — a feel- 
 ing in which the beauty was apt to indulge — than 
 while she was looking at him, it seldom exhibited 
 more of womanly softness and sensibility, than 
 when her speaking blue eyes were turned on his 
 travelling companion. 
 
 “ Leave us, Judith,” Hutter ordered, sternly, 
 before either of the young men could reply; 
 “ leave us, and do not return until you come with 
 the venison and fish. — The girl has been spoilt by 
 the flattery of the officers, who sometimes find 
 their way up here, Master March, and you’ll not 
 think any harm of her silly words.” 
 
 “You never said truer syllable, old Tom,” re- 
 torted Hurry, who smarted under Judith’s obser- 
 vations ; “ the devil-tongued youngsters of the 
 garrison have proved her undoing! I scarce 
 know Jude any longer, and shall soon take to 
 admiring her sister, who is getting to be much 
 more to my fancy.” 
 
 “ I am glad to hear this, Harry, and look upon 
 it as a sign that you’re coming to your right 
 senses. Hetty would make a much safer and 
 more rational companion than Jude, and would 
 be much the most likely to listen to your suit, as 
 the officers have, I greatly fear, unsettled her sis- 
 ter’s mind.” 
 
 “ No man need a safer wife than Hetty,” said 
 
 Hurry, laughing, “though I’ll not answer for he 
 being of the most rational. But no matter; 
 Deerslayer has not misconceived me, when he 
 told you I should be found at my post. I’ll not 
 quit you, Uncle Tom, just now, whatever may be 
 my feelin’s and intentions respecting your eldest 
 darter.” 
 
 Hurry had a respectable reputation for prow- 
 ess among his associates, and Hutter heard this 
 pledge with a satisfaction that was not concealed. 
 Even the great personal strength of such an aid 
 became of moment, in moving the ark, as well as 
 in the species of hand-to-hand conflicts that were 
 not unfrequent in the woods ; and no commander 
 who was hard pressed could feel more joy at hear- 
 ing of the arrival of reinforcements, than the 
 borderer experienced at being told this important 
 auxiliary was not about to quit him. A minute 
 before, Hutter would have been well content to 
 compromise his danger, by entering into a com 
 pact to act only on the defensive, but no sooner 
 did he feel some security on this point, than tht 
 restlessness of man induced him to think of the 
 means of carrying the war into the enemy’s coun 
 try. 
 
 “ High prices are offered for scalps, on both 
 sides,” he observed, with a grim smile, as if he 
 felt the force of the inducement, at the very time 
 he wished to affect a superiority to earning 
 money by means that the ordinary feelings of 
 those who aspire to be civilized men, repudiated, 
 even while they were adopted. “ It isn’t right, 
 perhaps, to take gold for human blood, and yet, 
 when mankind is busy in killing one another, 
 there can be no great harm in adding a little bit 
 of skin to the plunder. What’s your sentiments, 
 Hurry, touching these p’ints ? ” 
 
 “ That you’ve made a vast mistake, old man, 
 in calling savage blood, human blood, at all. I 
 think no more of a red-skin’s scalp than I do of 
 a pair of wolfs ears ; and would just as lief finger 
 money for the one as for the other. With white 
 people ’tis different, for they’ve a nat’ral avarsion 
 to being scalped ; whereas your Indian shaves his 
 head in readiness for the knife, and leaves a lock 
 of hair by way of braggadocio, that one can lay 
 hold of in the bargain.” 
 
 “ That’s manly, however, and I felt from the 
 first that we had only to get you on our side, to 
 have you, heart and hand,” returned Tom, losing 
 all his reserve, as he gained a renewed confidence 
 in the disposition of his companion. “ Something 
 more may turn up from this inroad of the red- 
 skins than they bargained for. — Deerslayer, I 
 conclude you’re of Hurry’s way of thinking, and 
 look upon money ’arned in this way as being aa 
 
A DISCUSSION ON CHRISTIAN ETHICS. 
 
 37 
 
 likely to pass as money ’arned in trapping or 
 hunting.” 
 
 “ I’ve no such feelin’, nor any wish to harbor 
 it, not I,” returned the other. “ My gifts are not 
 scalpers’ gifts, but such as belong to my religion 
 and color. I’ll stand by you, old man, in the ark 
 or in the castle, the canoe or the woods, but I’ll 
 not unhumanize my natur’ by falling into ways 
 that God intended for another race. If you and 
 Hurry have got any thoughts that lean toward 
 the colony’s gold, go by yourselves in s’arch of it, 
 and leave the females to my care. Much as I 
 must differ from you both on all gifts that do not 
 properly belong to a white man, we shall agree 
 that it is the duty of the strong to take care of 
 the weak, especially when the last belong to them 
 that natur’ intended man to protect and console 
 by his gentleness and strength.” 
 
 “ Hurry Harry, fh at is a lesson you might 
 learn and practise on to some advantage,” said 
 the sweet but spirited voice of Judith, from the 
 cabin ; a proof that she had overheard all that 
 had hitherto been said. 
 
 “ No more of this, Jude,” called out the fa- 
 ther, angrily. “ Move farther off; we are about 
 to talk of matters unfit for a woman to listen to.” 
 
 Hutter did not take any steps, however, to 
 ascertain whether he was obeyed or not, but, 
 dropping his voice a little, he pursued the dis- 
 course. 
 
 “ The young man is right, Hurry,” he said ; 
 “ and we can leave the children in his care. Now, 
 my idea is just this ; and I think you’ll agree that 
 it is rational and correct : There’s a large party 
 
 these savages on the shore ; and, though I 
 didn’t tell it before the girls, for they’re woman- 
 ish, and apt to be troublesome when any thing 
 like real work is to be done, there’s women among 
 ’em. This I know from moccasin-prints ; and 
 ’tis likely they are hunters, after all, who have 
 been out so long that they know nothing of the 
 war, or of the bounties.” 
 
 “ In which case, old Tom, why was their first 
 salute an attempt to cut all our throats ? ” 
 
 “We don’t know that their design was so 
 bloody. It’s natural and easy for an Indian to 
 fall into ambushes and surprises ; and, no doubt, 
 they wished to get on board the ark first, and to 
 make their conditions afterward. That a disap- 
 p’inted savage should fire at us, is in rule ; and I 
 think nothing of that. Besides, how often have 
 they burned me out, and robbed my traps — ay, 
 tnd pulled trigger on me, in the most peaceful 
 times ! ” 
 
 “ The blackguards will do such things, I must 
 Allow ; and we pay ’em off pretty much in their 
 
 own c’ine. Women would not be on the war- 
 path, sartainly; and, so far, there’s reason in 
 your idee.” 
 
 “ Nor would a hunter be in his war-paint,” re- 
 turned Deerslayer. “ I saw the Mingoe3, and 
 know that they are out on the trail of mortal 
 men ; and not for beaver or deer.” 
 
 “ There you have it ag’in, old fellow,” said 
 Hurry. “ In the way of an eye, now, I’d as soon 
 trust this young man as trust the oldest settler in 
 the colony ; if he says paint, why paint it was.” 
 
 “ Then a hunting-party and a war-party have 
 met, for women must have been with ’em. It’s 
 only a few days since the runner went through 
 with the tidings of the troubles ; and it may be 
 that warriors have come out to call in their 
 women and children, and to get an early blow.” 
 
 “ That would stand the courts, and is just the 
 truth,” cried Hurry ; “ you’ve got it now, old Tom, 
 and I should like to hear what you mean to make 
 out of it.” 
 
 “ The bounty,” returned the other, looking up 
 at his attentive companion, in a cool, sullen man- 
 ner, in which, however, heartless cupidity and 
 indifference to the means were far more conspic- 
 uous than any feelings of animosity or revenge. 
 “ If there’s women, there’s children ; and big 
 and little have scalps ; the colony pays for all 
 alike.” 
 
 “ More shame to it, that it should do so,” in- 
 terrupted Deerslayer ; “ more shame to it, that it 
 don’t understand its gifts, and pay greater atten- 
 tion to the will of God.” 
 
 “ Hearken to reason, lad, and don’t cry out 
 afore you understand a case,” returned the unmoved 
 Hurry ; “ the savages scalp your fri’nds, the 
 Delawares, or Mohicans, whichever they may be, 
 among the rest ; and why shouldn’t we scalp ? I 
 will own, it would be ag’in right for you and me, 
 now, to go into the settlements and bring out 
 scalps, but it’s a very different matter as con- 
 cerns Indians. A man shouldn’t take scalps, if 
 he isn’t ready to be scalped himself, on fitting 
 occasions. One good turn desarves another, all 
 the world over. That’s reason, and I believe it 
 to be good religion.” 
 
 “ Ay, Master Hurry,” again interrupted the 
 rich voice of Judith, “ is it religion to say that 
 one bad turn deserves another ? ” 
 
 “ I’ll never reason ag’in you, Judy, for you 
 beat me with beauty, if you can’t with sense. 
 Here’s the Canadas paying their Injins for scalps, 
 and why not we pay — ” 
 
 “ Our Indians ! ” exclaimed the girl, laughing 
 with a sort of melancholy merriment. — “ Father, 
 father ! think no more of this, and listen to the 
 
38 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 advice of Deerslayer, who has a conscience ; 
 which is more than I can say or think of Harry 
 March.” 
 
 Hutter now rose, and, entering the cabin, he 
 compelled his daughters to go into the adjoining 
 room, when he secured both the doors, and re- 
 turned. Then he and Hurry pursued the sub- 
 ject ; but, as the purport of all that was material 
 in this discourse will appear in the narrative, it 
 need not be related here in detail. The reader, 
 however, can have no difficulty in comprehending 
 the morality that presided over their conference. 
 It was, in truth, that which, in some form or 
 other, rules most of the acts of men, and in which 
 the controlling principle is that one wrong will 
 justify another. Their enemies paid for scalps, 
 and this was sufficient to justify the colony for 
 retaliating. It is true, the French used the same 
 argument — a circumstance, as Hurry took occa- 
 sion to observe in answer to one of Deerslayer’s 
 objections, that proved its truth, as mortal ene- 
 mies would not be likely to have recourse to the 
 same reason unless it were a good one. But 
 neither Hutter nor Hurry was a man likely to 
 stick at trifles in matters connected with the 
 right of the aborigines, since it is one of the con- 
 sequences of aggression that it hardens the con- 
 science, as the only means of quieting it. In the 
 most peaceable state of the country, a species of 
 warfare was carried on between the Indians, es- 
 pecially those of the Canadas, and men of their 
 caste ; and the moment an actual and recognized 
 warfare existed, it was regarded as the means of 
 lawfully revenging a thousand wrongs, real and 
 imaginary. Then, again, there was some truth, 
 and a good deal of expediency, in the principle 
 of retaliation, of which they both availed them- 
 selves, in particular, to answer the objections of 
 their juster-minded and more scrupulous com- 
 panion. 
 
 “ You must fight a man with his own we’pons, 
 Deerslayer,” cried Hurry, in his uncouth dialect, 
 and in his dogmatical manner of disposing of all 
 moral propositions ; “if he’s f’erce, you must be 
 f ercer ; if he’s stout of heart, you must be stout- 
 er. This is the way to get the better of Christian 
 or savage : by keeping up to this trail, you’ll get 
 soonest to the ind of your journey.” 
 
 “ That’s not Moravian doctrine, which teaches 
 that all are to be judged according to their talents 
 or l’arning — the Injin like an Injin, and the 
 white man like a white man. Some of their 
 teachers say that if you’re struck on the cheek, 
 it’s a duty to turn the other side of the face, and 
 take another blow, instead of seeking revenge, 
 whereby I understand — ” 
 
 “ That’s enough ! ” shouted Hurry ; “ th&t’a 
 all I want to prove a man’s doctrine ! How long 
 would it take to kick a man through the colony 
 — in at one ind, and out at the other, on that prin- 
 ciple ? ” 
 
 “Don’t mistake me, March,” returned the 
 young hunter, with dignity ; “ I don’t understand 
 by this any more than that it’s best to do this, if 
 possible. Revenge is an Injin gift, and forgive- 
 ness a white man’s. That’s all. Overlook all 
 you can is what’s meant ; and not revenge all you 
 can. As for kicking, Master Hurry,” and Deer- 
 slayer’s sunburnt cheek flushed as he continued, 
 “ into the colony, or out of the colony, that’s 
 neither here nor there, seeing no one proposes it, 
 and no one would be likely to put up with it. 
 What I wish to say is, that a red-skin’s scalping 
 don’t justify a pale-face’s scalping.” 
 
 “Do as you’re done by, Deerslayer; that’s 
 ever the Christian parson’s doctrine.” 
 
 “ No, Hurry, I’ve asked the Moravians con- 
 sarning that ; and it’s altogether different. * Do 
 as you would be done by,’ they tell me is the true 
 saying, while men practise the false. They think 
 all the colonies wrong that offer bounties for 
 scalps, and believe no blessing will follow the 
 measures. Above all things, they forbid re- 
 venge.” 
 
 “ Thai for your Moravians ! ” cried March, 
 snapping his fingers ; “ they’re the next thing to 
 Quakers ; and if you’d believe al they tell you, 
 not even a ’rat would be skinnea out of marcy. 
 Who ever heard of marcy on a musk-rat ! ” 
 
 The disdainful manner of Hurry prevented a 
 reply, and he and the old man resumed the dis- 
 cussion of their plans in a more quiet and confi- 
 dential manner. This confidence lasted until 
 Judith appeared, bearing the simple but savory 
 supper. March observed, with a little surprise, 
 that she placed the choicest bits before Deer- 
 slayer, and that in the little nameless attentions 
 it was in her power to bestow, she quite obviously 
 manifested a desire to let it be seen that she 
 deemed him the honored guest. Accustomed, 
 however, to the waywardness and coquetry of the 
 beauty, this discovery gave him little concern, 
 and he ate with an appetite that was in no de- 
 gree disturbed by any moral causes. The easily- 
 digested food of the forests offering the fewest 
 possible obstacles to the gratif. nation of this 
 great animal indulgence, Deerslayer, notwith- 
 standing the hearty meal both had taken in the 
 woods, was in no manner behind his companion 
 in doing justice to the viands. 
 
 An hour later the scene had greatly changed. 
 The lake was still placid and glassy, but the 
 
HETTY AND HER FATHER. 
 
 39 
 
 ^loom of the hour had succeeded to the soft 
 twilight of a summer evening, and all within the 
 dark setting of the woods lay in the quiet repose 
 of night. The forests gave up no song, or cry, or 
 even murmur, but looked down from the hills on 
 the lovely basin they encircled in solemn still- 
 ness ; and the only sound that was audible was 
 the regular dip of the sweeps, at which Hurry 
 and Deerslayer lazily pushed, impelling the ark 
 toward the castle. Hutter had withdrawn to the 
 stern of the scow in order to steer, but, finding 
 that the young men kept even strokes, and held 
 the desired course by their own skill, he per- 
 mitted the oar to drag in the water, took a seat 
 on the end of the vessel, and lighted his pipe. 
 He had not been thus placed many minutes, ere 
 Hetty came stealthily out of the cabin, or house, 
 as they usually termed that part of the ark, and 
 placed herself at his feet, on a little bench that 
 she brought with her. As this movement was 
 by no means unusual in his feeble-minded child, 
 the old man paid no other attention to it than to 
 lay his hand kindly on her head in an affection- 
 ate and approving manner — an act of grace that 
 the girl received in meek silence. 
 
 After a pause of several minutes, Hetty began 
 to sing. Her voice was low and tremulous, but 
 it was earnest and solemn. The words and the 
 time were of the simplest form, the first being a 
 hymn that she had been taught by her mother, 
 and the last one of those natural melodies that 
 find favor with all classes, in every age, coming 
 from and being addressed to the feelings. Hut- 
 ter never listened to this simple strain without 
 finding his heart and manner softened ; facts that 
 his daughter well knew, and by which she had 
 often profited, through the sort of holy instinct 
 that enlightens the weak of mind, more especially 
 in their aims toward good. 
 
 Hetty’s low, sweet tones had not been raised 
 many moments, when the dip of the oars ceased, 
 and the holy strain q,rose singly on the breathing 
 silence of the wilderness. As if she gathered 
 courage with the theme, her powers appeared to 
 increase as she proceeded ; and, though nothing 
 vulgar or noisy mingled in her melody, its 
 strength and melancholy tenderness grew on the 
 ear, until the air was filled with this simple homage 
 of a soul that seemed almost spotless. That the 
 men forward were not indifferent to this touching 
 interruption, was proved by their inaction ; nor 
 did their oars again dip until the last of the 
 sweet sounds had actually died among the re- 
 markable shores, which, at that witching hour, 
 would waft even the lowest modulations of the 
 human voice more than a mile. Hutter was 
 
 much affected ; for, rude as he was by early 
 habits, and even ruthless as he had got to be by 
 long exposure to the practices of the wilderness, 
 his nature was of that fearful mixture of good and 
 evil that so generally enters into the moral com- 
 position of man. 
 
 “ You are sad to-night, child,” said the fa- 
 ther, whose manner and language usually as- 
 sumed some of the gentleness and elevation of the 
 civilized life he had led in youth when he thus 
 communed with this particular child ; “ we have 
 just escaped from enemies, and ought rather to 
 rejoice.” 
 
 “ You can never do it, father ! ” said Hetty, 
 in a low, remonstrating manner, taking his hard, 
 knotty hand into both her own ; “ you have 
 talked long with Harry March ; but neither of 
 you have the heart to do it ! ” 
 
 “ This is going beyond your means, foolish 
 child ; you must have been naughty enough to 
 have listened, or you could know nothing of our 
 talk.” 
 
 “ Why should you and Hurry kill people — es- 
 pecially women and children ? ” 
 
 “ Peace, girl, peace ; we are at war, and must 
 do to our enemies as our enemies would do to 
 us.” 
 
 “ That’s not it, father ! I heard Deerslayer 
 say how it was. You must do to your enemies 
 as you wish your enemies would do to you. No 
 man wishes his enemies to kill him.” 
 
 “We kill our enemies in war, girl, lest tney 
 should kill us. One side or the other must be- 
 gin ; and them that begin first are most apt to 
 get the victory. You know nothing about these 
 things, poor Hetty, and had best say nothing.” 
 
 “ Judith says it is wrong, father; and Judith 
 has sense, though I have none.” 
 
 “ Jude understands better than to talk to me 
 of these matters ; for she has sense, as you say, 
 and knows I’ll not bear it. Which would you 
 prefer, Hetty ; to have your scalp taken and sold 
 to the French, or that we should kill our enemies 
 and keep them from harming us ? ” 
 
 “ That’s not it, father ! Don’t kill them, nor 
 let them kill us. Sell your skins, and get more, 
 if you can ; but don’t sell human blood.” 
 
 “ Come, come, child ; let us talk of matters 
 you understand. Are you glad to see our old 
 friend March back again ? You like Hurry, 
 and must know that one day he may be your 
 brother — if not something nearer.” 
 
 “ That can’t be, father,” returned the girl, 
 after a considerable pause ; “ Hurry has had one 
 father and one mother ; and people never have 
 two.” 
 
40 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “ So much for your weak mind, Hetty. When 
 Jude marries, her husband’s father will be her fa- 
 ther, and her husband’s sister her sister. If she 
 should marry Hurry, then he will be your broth- 
 er.” 
 
 “ Judith will never have Hurry,” returned the 
 girl, mildly but positively; “Judith don’t like 
 Hurry.” 
 
 “ That’s more than you can know, Hetty. 
 Harry March is the handsomest, and the strong- 
 est, and the boldest young man that ever visits 
 the lake ; and, as Jude is the greatest beauty, 
 I don’t see why they shouldn’t come together. 
 He has as much as promised that he will enter 
 into this job with me on condition that I’ll con- 
 sent.” 
 
 Hetty began to move her body back and forth, 
 and otherwise to express mental agitation, but 
 she made no answer for more than a minute. 
 Her father, accustomed to her manner, and sus- 
 pecting no immediate cause of concern, contin- 
 ued to smoke with the apparent phlegm which 
 would seem to belong to that particular species 
 of enjoyment. 
 
 “ Hurry is handsome, father,” said Hetty, with 
 a simple emphasis, that she might have hesitated 
 about using, had her mind been more alive to the 
 inferences of others. 
 
 “ I told you so, child,” muttered old Hutter, 
 without removing the pipe from between his 
 teeth; “he’s the likeliest youth in these parts, 
 and Jude is the likeliest young woman I’ve met 
 with since her poor mother was in her best days.” 
 
 “ Is it wicked to be ugly, father ? ” 
 
 “One might be guilty of worse things — but 
 you’re by no means ugly, though not so comely 
 as Jude.” 
 
 “Is Judith any happier for being so hand- 
 some ? ” 
 
 “ She may be, child ; and she may not be. 
 But talk of other matters, now ; for you hardly 
 understand these, poor Hetty. How do you like 
 our new acquaintance, Deerslayer ? ” 
 
 “He isn’t handsome, father. Hurry is far 
 handsomer than Deerslayer ! ” 
 
 “ That’s true, but they say he is a noted hunt- 
 er ! His fame had reached me before I ever 
 saw him, and I did hope he would prove to be as 
 stout a warrior as he is dexterous with the deer. 
 All men are not alike, howsever, child, and it 
 takes time, as I know by experience, to give a 
 man a true wilderness heart.” 
 
 “ Have I got a wilderness heart, father — and 
 Hurry, is his heart true wilderness ? ” 
 
 “ Y ou sometimes ask queer questions, Hetty ! 
 Your heart is good, child, and fitter for the settle- 
 
 ments than for the woods, while your reason if 
 fitter for the woods than for the settlements.” 
 
 “ Why has Judith moie reason than I, 
 father ? ” 
 
 “ Heaven help thee, child — this is more than 
 I can answer. God gives sense, and appearance, 
 and all these things, and he grants them as he 
 seeth fit. Dost thou wish for more sense ? ” 
 
 “Not I. The little I have, troubles me; for 
 when I think the hardest, then I feel the unhap- 
 piest. I don’t believe thinking is good for me, 
 though I do wish I was as handsome as Judith ! ” 
 
 “ Why so, poor child ? Thy sister’s beauty 
 may cause her trouble, as it caused her mother 
 before her. It’s no advantage, Hetty, to be 
 so marked for any thing as to become an object 
 of envy, or to be sought after more than others.” 
 
 “Mother was good, if she was handsome,” 
 returned the girl, the tears starting to her eyes, 
 as usually happened, when she adverted to her 
 deceased parent. 
 
 Old Hutter, if not equally affected, was moody 
 and silent at this allusion to his wife. He con- 
 tinued smoking, without appearing disposed to 
 make any answer, until his simple-minded daugh- 
 ter repeated her remark, in a way to show that 
 she felt uneasiness lest he might be inclined to 
 deny her assertion. Then he knocked the ashes 
 out of his pipe, and, laying his hand in a sort 
 of rough kindness on the girl’s head, he made a 
 reply. 
 
 “ Thy mother was too good for this world,” 
 he said; “though others might not think so. 
 Her good looks did not befriend her, and you 
 have no occasion to mourn that you are not as 
 much like her as your sister. Think less of beau- 
 ty, child, and more of your duty, and you’ll be as 
 happy on this lake as you could be in the king’s 
 palace.” 
 
 “ I know it, father ; but Hurry says beauty is 
 every thing in a young woman.” 
 
 Hutter made an ejaculation expressive of dis- 
 satisfaction, and went forward, passing through 
 the house, in order to do so. Hetty’s simple be- 
 trayal of her weakness in behalf of March gave 
 him uneasiness on a subject concerning which 
 he had never felt before, and he determined to 
 come to an explanation at once with his visitor; 
 for directness of speech, and decision in conduct, 
 were two of the best qualities of this rude being, 
 in whom the seeds of a better education seemed 
 to be constantly struggling upward, to be choked 
 by the fruits of a life in which his hard struggles 
 for subsistence and security had steeled his feel- 
 ings and indurated his nature. When he reached 
 the forward end of the scow, he manifested an 
 
JUDITH AND HER NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 
 
 41 
 
 intention to relieve Deerslayer at the oar, direct- 
 ing the latter to take his own place aft. By 
 these changes, the old man and Hurry were 
 again left alone, while the young hunter was 
 transferred to the other end of the ark. 
 
 Hetty had disappeared when Deerslayer reached 
 his new post, and for some little time he directed 
 the course of the slow-moving craft by himself. 
 It was not long, however, before Judith came out 
 of the cabin, as if disposed to do the honors of 
 the place to a stranger engaged in the service of 
 her family. The starlight was sufficient to per- 
 mit objects to be plainly distinguished when near 
 at hand, and the bright eyes of the girl had an 
 expression of kindness in them, when they met 
 those of the youth, that the latter was easily en- 
 abled to discover. Her rich hair shaded her 
 spirited and yet soft countenance, even at that 
 hour rendering it the more beautiful — as the rose 
 is loveliest when reposing amid the shadows and 
 contrasts of its native foliage. Little ceremony 
 is used in the intercourse of the woods ; and Ju- 
 dith had acquired a readiness of address, by the 
 admiration that she so generally excited, which } 
 if it did not amount to forwardness, certainly in 
 no degree lent to her charms the aid of that re- 
 tiring modesty on which poets love to dwell. 
 
 “ I thought I should have killed myself with 
 laughing, Deerslayer,” the beauty abruptly but 
 eoquettishly commenced, “when I saw that In- 
 dian dive into the river ! He was a good-looking 
 savage, too ” — the girl always dwelt on personal 
 beauty as a sort of merit— “and yet one couldn’t 
 stop to consider whether his paint would stand 
 water ! ” 
 
 “And I thought they would have killed you 
 with their we’pons, Judith,” returned Deerslayer . 
 “ it was an awful risk for a female to run in the 
 face of a dozen Mingoes ! ” 
 
 “ Did that make you come out of the cabin, in 
 spite of their rifles, too ? ” asked the girl, with 
 more real interest than she would have cared to 
 betray, though with an indifference of manner 
 that was the result of a good deal of practice 
 united to native readiness. 
 
 “ Men ar’n’t apt to see females in danger, and 
 not come to their assistance. Even a Mingo 
 knows that.” 
 
 This sentiment was uttered with as much sim- 
 plicity of manner as of feeling, and Judith re- 
 warded it with a smile so sweet that even Deer- 
 slayer, who had imbibed a prejudice against the 
 girl in consequence of Hurry’s suspicions of her 
 levity, felt its charm, notwithstanding half its win- 
 ning influence was lost in the feeble light. It at 
 ®ncc created a sort of confidence between them, 
 
 and the discourse was continued on the part ot 
 the hunter without the lively consciousness of the 
 character of this coquette of the wilderness, with 
 which it had certainly commenced. 
 
 “You are a man of deeds and not of words, 1 
 see plainly, Deerslayer,” continued the beauty f 
 taking her seat near the spot where the other 
 stood, “ and I foresee we shall be very good 
 friends. Hurry Harry has a tongue, and, giant 
 as he is, he talks more than he performs.” 
 
 “March is your fri’nd, Judith; and fri’nd3 
 should be tender of each other, when apart.” 
 
 “ W e all know what Hurry’s friendship, comes 
 to ! Let him have his own way in every thing, 
 and he’s the best fellow in the colony ; but ‘ head 
 him off,’ as you say of the deer, and he is master 
 of every thing 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 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 re- 
 membered 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 Dela- 
 ware, Judith, for one that reflects and ruminates 
 on his idees ! Inmity has made ’em thoughtful, 
 and a loose tongue is no ricommend at their coun- 
 cil-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 
 
42 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 careless disdain. “ Young women’s good names 
 are a pleasant matter of discourse with some that 
 wouldn’t dare to 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 ” — impetu- 
 ously interrupted Judith, “/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, Ju- 
 dith, 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 that-a-way ; 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 that 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 crim- 
 soned the whole of Judith’s fine face, nor detect 
 the uncontrollable distress that immediately after 
 changed its hue to a 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 sud- 
 den 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 direc- 
 tion, before he remembered his actual situation. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 “ So spoke the apostate angel, though in pain, 
 
 Vaunting aloud, hut racked with deep despair 1 ” 
 
 Miltoh. 
 
 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 oc- 
 casion, 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 hun- 
 dred 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 ir 
 the quiet of midnight, a sort of type of the soli- 
 tude of a wilderness. As an enemy was known 
 to be near, Hutter directed his daughters to ab- 
 stain 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 reason why he 
 forbade the use of lights ; “ for I’ve three or foul 
 
PRECAUTION. 
 
 43 
 
 trusty weapons always loaded, and Kill-deer, 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,” re- 
 turned 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, its discussion ceased with 
 this remark. The latter had something more on 
 his mind, however, than recollections. His daugh- 
 ters 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 execu- 
 tion by Hurry and himself. 
 
 “ The great object for people posted like our. 
 selves 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 
 *he 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 morn- 
 ing, 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 over- 
 look 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 mis- 
 trust a savage’s ingenuity, than to build any great 
 expectations on his want of eyesight. 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 that showed that the 
 proposal both surprised and pleased him. 
 
 “ Sartin. I’m ready to enlist in any enter- 
 prise that’s not ag’in a white man’s lawful gifts. 
 Natur’ orders us to defend our fives, and the fives 
 of others, too, when there’s occasion and oppor- 
 tunity. I’ll follow you, Floating Tom, into the 
 Mingo camp, on such an ar’r’nd, and will strive to 
 do my duty, should we come to blows ; though, 
 never having been tried in battle, I don’t like to 
 promise more than I may be able to perform. 
 We all know our wishes, but none know their 
 might till put to the proof.” 
 
 “ That’s modest and suitable, lad,” exclaimed 
 Hurry. “ You’ve never yet heard the crack of 
 an angry rifle ; and, let me tell you, ’tis as differ- 
 ent from the persuasion of one of your venison- 
 speechers, as the laugh of Judith Hutter, in her 
 best humor, is from the scolding of a Dutch 
 housekeeper 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, accord- 
 ing to my consait.” 
 
 “We’ll see, Hurry, we’ll see,” returned the 
 other meekly ; so far as human eye could dis- 
 cover, 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, be- 
 fore I form any opinion myself ; and then there’ll 
 be sartainty instead of bragging. I’ve heard of 
 them that was valiant afore the fight, who did fit 
 tie in it ; and of them that waited to know their 
 
44 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 own tempers, and found that they weren’t as bad 
 es 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 talk- 
 ing,” 
 
 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 con- 
 ference 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 ad- 
 venturers. 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 ene- 
 mies, 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 mo- 
 ment. 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 mountain-side, 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. Hut- 
 ter 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 moun- 
 tain, and the old man led the way toward 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, af- 
 ter all.” 
 
 “ Keep my rifle handy, butt toward 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, tow- 
 ard 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 toward 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 toward the cen- 
 tre 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 toward 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 re- 
 doubled caution became necessary. They reached 
 the extremity of the point, however, and landed 
 in safety on the little gravelly beach already men- 
 tioned. 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 Hurr« 
 
AN INDIAN ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 45 
 
 *anded, 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 nar- 
 row slip of iand and the place where it joined the 
 main shore ; and, knowing that there was water 
 so near him on hisdeft, the old man led the way 
 along the eastern side of the belt with some con- 
 fidence, 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, in- 
 stead 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 pos- 
 session 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 posi- 
 tion on the extremity of the long, narrow bit of 
 land, added to the feeling of security, as it per- 
 mitted an enemy to approach in only one direc- 
 tion, 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, 
 wa3 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 tak- 
 ing to the last when hard pressed. I call our 
 position now, intrenched, and set the Canadas at 
 defiance.” 
 
 “ Let us paddle along this south shore,” said 
 Hutter, “ and see if there’s no sign of an encamp- 
 ment ; 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 sure of that 
 quarter yet.” 
 
 As Hutter ceased speaking, all tnree 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 o at its flick- 
 ering 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 situa- 
 tion, 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 ordi- 
 nary 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 in- 
 ferred that this encampment contained the wom- 
 en 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 out- 
 side the rushes, too. You can hear us when we 
 want you ; and if there’s any delay, I’ll call like a 
 loon — yes, that’ll do it — the call of a loon shall 
 be the signal. If you hear rifles, and feel like 
 sogering, why, you may close in, and see if you 
 can make the same hand with the savages that 
 you do with the deer.” 
 
 “ If my wishes could be followed, this matter 
 would not be undertaken, Hurry — ” 
 
 “ Quite true — nobody denies it, boy ; but your 
 wishes can't be followed ; and that inds the matter. 
 So just canoe yourself off into the middle of the 
 lake, and by the time you get back there’ll be 
 movements in that camp ! ” 
 
 The young man set about complying with 
 great reluctance and a heavy heart. He knew the 
 prejudices of the frontier-men too well, however, 
 to attempt a remonstrance. The latter, indeed, 
 under the circumstances, might prove dangerous, 
 as it would certainly prove useless. He paddled 
 the canoe, therefore, silently, and with the former 
 caution, to a spot near the centre of the placid 
 sheet of water, and set the boat just recovered 
 adrift, to float toward the castle, before the light 
 southerly air. This expedient had been adopted, 
 in both cases, under the certainty that the drift 
 could not carry the light barks more than a league 
 
46 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 or two, before the return of light, when they 
 might easily be overtaken. In order to prevent 
 any wandering savage from using them, by swim- 
 ming off and getting possession, a possible but 
 scarcely a probable event, all the paddles were 
 retained. 
 
 No sooner had he set the recovered canoe 
 adrift, than Deerslayer turned the bows of his 
 own toward the point on the shore that had been 
 indicated by Hurry. So light was the movement 
 of the little craft, and so steady the sweep of its 
 master’s arm, that ten minutes had not elapsed 
 ere it was again approaching the land, having, in 
 that brief time, passed over fully half a mile of 
 distance. As soon as Deerslayer’s eye caught a 
 glimpse of the rushes, of which there were many 
 growing in the water a hundred feet from the 
 shore, he arrested the motion of the canoe, and 
 anchored his boat by holding fast to the delicate 
 but tenacious stem of one of the drooping plants. 
 Here he remained, awaiting, with an intensity of 
 suspense that can be easily imagined, the result 
 of the hazardous enterprise. 
 
 It would be difficult to convey to the minds of 
 those who have never witnessed it, the sublimity 
 that characterizes the silence of a solitude as deep 
 as that which now reigned over the Glimmerglass. 
 In the present instance, this sublimity was in- 
 creased by the gloom of night, which threw its 
 shadowy and fantastic forms around the lake, the 
 forest, and the hills. It is not easy, indeed, to 
 conceive of any place more favorable to heighten 
 these natural impressions, than that Deerslayer 
 now occupied. The size of the lake brought all 
 within the reach of human senses, while it dis- 
 played so much of the imposing scene at a single 
 view, giving up, as it might be, at a glance, a suf- 
 ficiency to produce the deepest impressions. As 
 has been said, this was the first lake Deerslayer 
 had ever seen. Hitherto, his experience had been 
 limited to the courses of rivers and smaller 
 streams, and never before had he seen so much 
 of that wilderness which he so well loved, spread 
 before his gaze. Accustomed to the forest, how- 
 ever, his mind was capable of portraying all its 
 hidden mysteries, as he looked upon its leafy 
 surface. This was also the first time he had been 
 on a trail where human lives depended on the is- 
 sue. His ears had often drunk in the traditions 
 of frontier warfare, but he had never yet been 
 confronted with an enemy. 
 
 The reader will readily understand, therefore, 
 how intense must have been the expectation of 
 the young man, as he sat in his solitary canoe, 
 endeavoring to catch the smallest sound that 
 might denote the course of things on shore. His 
 
 training had been perfect, so far as theory could 
 go, and his self-possession, notwithstanding the 
 high excitement, that was the fruit of novelty, 
 would have done credit to a veteran. The visible 
 evidences of the existence of the camp, or of the 
 fire, could not be detected from the spot where 
 the canoe lay, and be was compelled to depend 
 on the sense of hearing alone. He did not feel 
 impatient, for the lessons he had heard taught him 
 the virtue of patience, and, most of all, inculcated 
 the necessity of wariness in conducting any covert 
 assault on the Indians. Once he thought he heard 
 the cracking of a dried twig, but expectation was 
 so intense it might mislead him. In this manner 
 minute after minute passed, until the whole time 
 since he left his companions was extended to 
 quite an hour. Deerslayer knew not whether to 
 rejoice in or to mourn over this cautious delay, 
 for, if it augured security to his associates, it fore- 
 told destruction to the feeble and innocent. 
 
 It might have been an hour and a half after 
 his companions and he had parted, when Deer- 
 slayer was aroused by a sound that filled him 
 equally with concern and surprise. The quaver- 
 ing call of a loon arose from the opposite side of 
 the lake, evidently at no great distance from its 
 outlet. There was no mistaking the note of this 
 bird, which is so familiar to all who know tbs 
 sounds of the American lakes. Shrill, tremulous, 
 loud, and sufficiently prolonged, it seems the very 
 cry of warning. It is often raised, also, at night 
 — an exception to the habits of most of the other 
 feathered inmates of the wilderness; a circum- 
 stance which had induced Hurry to select it as 
 his own signal. There had been sufficient time, 
 certainly, for the two adventurers to make their 
 way by land, from the point where they had been 
 left to that whence the call had come, but it was 
 not probable that they would adopt such a course. 
 Had the camp been deserted, they would have 
 summoned Deerslayer to the shore, and, did it 
 prove to be peopled, there could be no sufficient 
 motive for circling it, in order to reembark at so 
 great a distance. Should he obey the signal, and 
 be drawn away from the landing, the lives of 
 those who depended on him might be the forfeit 
 — and, should he neglect the call, on the suppo- 
 sition that it had been really made, the conse- 
 quences might be equally disastrous, though from 
 a different cause. In this indecision he waited 
 trusting that the call, whether feigned or natural, 
 would be speedily renewed. Nor was he mis- 
 taken. A very few minutes elapsed before th« 
 same shrill, warning cry was repeated, and from 
 the same part of the lake. This time, being on 
 the alert his senses were not deceived. Although 
 
BUTTER AND HURRY CAPTURED. 
 
 4 ? 
 
 fie had often heard admirable iiAitations of this 
 bird, and was no mean adept himself in raising 
 its notes, he felt satisfied that Hurry, to whose 
 efforts in that way he had attended, could never 
 so completely and closely follow Nature. He 
 determined, therefore, to disregard that cry, and 
 to wait for one less perfect and nearer at hand. 
 
 Deerslayer had hardly come to this determi- 
 nation, when the profound stillness of night and 
 solitude was broken by a cry so startling, as to 
 drive all recollection of the more melancholy call 
 of the loon from the listener’s mind. It was a 
 shriek of agony, that came either from one of the 
 female sex, or from a boy so young as not yet to 
 have attained a manly voice. This appeal could 
 not be mistaken. Heart-rending terror — if not 
 writhing agony — was in the sounds, and the an- 
 guish that had awakened them was as sudden as 
 it was fearful. The young man released his hold 
 of the rush, and dashed his paddle in to the water ; 
 to do, he knew not what — to steer, he knew not 
 whither. A very few moments, however, re- 
 moved his indecision. The breaking of branches, 
 the cracking of dried sticks, and the fall of feet 
 were distinctly audible ; the sounds appearing to 
 approach the water, though in a direction that 
 led diagonally toward the shore, and a little far- 
 ther north than the spot that Deerslayer had been 
 ordered to keep near. Following this clew, the 
 young man urged the canoe ahead, paying but 
 little attention to the manner in which he might 
 betray its presence. He had reached a part of 
 the shore where its immediate bank was tolerably 
 high and quite steep. Men were evidently thresh- 
 ing through the bushes and trees on the summit 
 of this bank, following the line of the shore, as 
 if those who fled sought a favorable place for de- 
 scending. Just at this instant five or six rifles 
 flashed, and the opposite hills gave back as usual 
 the sharp reports in prolonged, rolling echoes. 
 One or two shrieks, like those which escape the 
 bravest when suddenly overcome by unexpected 
 anguish and alarm, followed ; and then the thresh- 
 ing among the bushes was renewed, in a way to 
 show that man was grappling with man. 
 
 “ Slippery .devil! ” shouted Hurry, with the 
 fury of disappointment — “ his skin’s greased ! I 
 sha’n’t grapple ! — Take that for your cunning ! ” 
 
 The words were followed by the fall of some 
 heavy object among the smaller trees that fringed 
 the bank, appearing to Deerslayer as if his gigan- 
 tic associate had hurled an enemy from him in 
 this unceremonious manner. Again the flight and 
 pursuit were renewed, and then the young man 
 saw a human form break down the hill, and rush 
 several yards into the water. At this critical mo- 
 4 
 
 ment the canoe was just near enough to the spot 
 to allow this movement, which was accompanied 
 by no little noise, to be seen ; and feeling that 
 there he must take in his companion, if anywhere, 
 Deerslayer urged the canoe forward to the rescue. 
 His paddle had not been raised twice, when the 
 voice of Hurry was heard, filling the air with im- 
 precations, and he rolled on the narrow beach, 
 literally loaded down with enemies. While pros- 
 trate, and almost smothered with his foes, the 
 athletic frontier-man gave his loon-call, in a man- 
 ner that would have excited laughter under cir- 
 cumstances less terrific. The figure in the water 
 seemed suddenly to repent his own flight, and 
 rushed to the shore to aid his companion, but was 
 met and immediately overpowered by half a dozen 
 fresh pursuers, who just then came leaping down 
 the bank. 
 
 “ Let up, you painted riptyles — let up ! ” cried 
 Hurry, too hard pressed to be particular about 
 the terms he used ; “ isn’t it enough that I am 
 withed like a saw-log that ye must choke too ! ” 
 
 This speech satisfied Deerslayer that his 
 friends were prisoners, and that to land would be 
 to share their fate. He was already within a hun- 
 dred feet of the shore, when a few timely strokes 
 of the paddle not only arrested his advance, but 
 forced him off to six or eight times that distance 
 from his enemies. Luckily for him, all of the 
 Indians had dropped their rifles in the pursuit, or 
 this retreat might not have been effected with 
 impunity ; though no one had noted the canoe in 
 the first confusion of the melee. 
 
 “ Keep off the land, lad,” called out Hutter ; 
 “ the girls depend only on you, now : you will 
 want all your caution to escape these savages. 
 Keep off, and God prosper you, as you aid my 
 children ! ” 
 
 There was little sympathy in general between 
 Hutter and the young man, but the bodily and 
 mental anguish with which this appeal was made 
 served at the moment to conceal from the latter 
 the former’s faults. He saw only the father in 
 his sufferings, and resolved at once to give a 
 pledge of fidelity to his interests, and to be faith- 
 ful to his word. 
 
 “Put your heart at ease, Master Hutter,” he 
 called out ; “ the gals shall be looked to, as well 
 as the castle. The inimy has got the shore, ’tis 
 no use to deny, but he hasn’t got the water. 
 Providence has the charge of all, and no one can 
 say what will come of it ; but, if good-will can 
 sarve you and your’n, depend on that much. My 
 exper’ence is small, but my will is good.” 
 
 “Ay — ay, Deerslayer,” returned Hurry, in 
 his stentorian voice, which was losing some of 
 
18 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 its heartiness, notwithstanding — “ ay, ay, Deer- 
 slayer, you mean well enough, but what can you 
 do ? You’re no great matter in the best of times, 
 and such a person is not likely to turn out a mira- 
 cle in the worst. If there’s one savage on this 
 lake-shore there’s forty, and that’s an army you 
 ar’n’t the man to overcome. Tne best way, in 
 my judgment, will be to make a straight course 
 to the castle ; get the gals into the canoe, with a 
 few eatables ; then strike off for the corner of 
 the lake where we came in, and take the best 
 trail for the Mohawk. These devils won’t know 
 where to look for you for some hours, and if 
 they did, and went off hot in the pursuit, they 
 must turn either the foot or the head of the lake 
 to get at you. That’s my judgment in the mat- 
 ter ; and if old Tom here wishes to make his last 
 will and testament in a manner favorable to his 
 darters, lie’ll say 'the same.” 
 
 “ ’Twill never do, young man,” rejoined Hut- 
 ter. “The enemy has scouts out at this mo- 
 ment, looking for canoes, and you’ll be seen and 
 taken. Trust to the castle ; and, above all things, 
 keep clear of the land. Hold out a week, and 
 parties from the garrisons will drive the savages 
 off.” 
 
 “ ’Twon’t be four-and-twenty hours, old fel- 
 low, afore these foxes will be rafting off to storm 
 your castle,” interrupted Hurry, with more of the 
 heat of argument than might be expected from a 
 man who was bound and a captive, and about 
 whom nothing could be called free but his opin- 
 ions and his tongue. “ Your advice has a stout 
 sound, but it will have a fatal tarmination. If 
 you or I was in the house, we might hold out a 
 few days, but remember that this lad has never 
 seen an inimy afore to-night, and is what you 
 yourself called settlement-conscienced ; though, 
 for my part, I think the consciences in the settle- 
 ments pretty much the same as they are out here 
 in the woods. These savages are making signs, 
 Deerslayer, for me to encourage you to come 
 ashore with the canoe ; but that’ll never do, as 
 it’s ag’in reason and Natur’. As for old Tom and 
 myself, whether they’ll scalp us to-night, keep us 
 for the torture by fire, or carry us to Canada, is 
 more than any one knows but the devil that ad- 
 vises them how to act. I’ve such a big and bushy 
 head that it’s quite likely they’ll indivor to get 
 two scalps off it, for the bounty is a tempting 
 thing, or old Tom and I wouldn’t be in this scrape. 
 Ay — there they go with their signs ag’in, but if I 
 advise you to land may they eat me as well as 
 roast me ! No, no, Deerslayer — do you keep off 
 where you are, and, after daylight, on no account 
 come within two hundred yards — ” 
 
 This injunction of Hurry’s was stopped by a 
 hand being rudely slapped against his mouth, the 
 certain sign that some one in the party sufficient- 
 ly understood English to have at length detected 
 the drift of his discourse. Immediately after, 
 the whole group entered the forest, Hutter a^d 
 Hurry apparently making no resistance to the 
 movement. Just as the sounds of the cracking 
 bushes were ceasing, however, the voice of the 
 father was again heard. 
 
 “ As you’re true to my children, God prosper 
 you, young man ! ” were the words that reached 
 Deerslayer’s ears ; after which he found himself 
 left to follow the dictates of his own discretion. 
 
 Several minutes elapsed, in death-like still- 
 ness, when the party on the shore had disappeared 
 in the woods. Owing to the distance, rather 
 more than two hundred yards, and the obscurity, 
 Deerslayer had been able barely to distinguish 
 the group, and to see it retiring ; but even this 
 dim connection with human forms gave an anima- 
 tion to the scene that was strongly in contrast to 
 the absolute solitude that remained. Although 
 the young man leaned forward to listen, holding 
 his breath and condensing every faculty in the 
 single sense of hearing, not another sound reached 
 his ears to denote the vicinity of human beings. 
 It seemed as if a silence that had never been 
 broken reigned on the spot again ; and, for an 
 instant, even that piercing shriek which bad so 
 lately broken the stillness of the forest, or the exe- 
 crations of March, would have been a relief to 
 the feeling of desertion to which it gave rise. 
 
 This paralysis of mind and body, however, 
 could not last long in one constituted mentally 
 and physically like Deerslayer. Dropping his 
 paddle into the water, he turned the head of the 
 canoe, and proceeded slowly, as one who thinks 
 intently, toward the centre of the lake. When 
 he believed himself to have reached a point in a 
 line with that where he had set the last canoe 
 adrift, he changed his direction northward, keep- 
 ing the light air as nearly on his back as possible. 
 After paddling a quarter of a mile in this direc- 
 tion, a dark object became visible on the lake, a 
 little to the right ; and, turning on one side for 
 the purpose, he had socn secured his lost prize 
 to his own boat. Deerslayer now examined the 
 heavens, the course of the air, and the position 
 of the two canoes. Finding nothing in either to 
 induce a change of plan, he lay down and pre- 
 pared to catch a few hours’ sleep, that the mor- 
 row might find him equal to its exigencies. 
 
 Although the hardy and the tired sleep pro- 
 foundly, even in scenes of danger, it was some 
 time before Deerslayer lost his recollection. Hia 
 
A DANGEROUS POSITION. 
 
 49 
 
 t&ind dwelt on what had passed, and his half- 
 conscious faculties kept figuring the events of the 
 night, in a sort of waking dream. Suddenly he 
 was up and alert, for he fancied he heard the 
 preconcerted signal of Hurry summoning him to 
 the shore. But all was still as the grave again. 
 The canoe3 were slowly drifting northward, the 
 thoughtful stars were glimmering in their mild 
 glory over his head, and the forest-bound sheet 
 of water lay embedded between its mountains, as 
 calm and melancholy as if never troubled by the 
 winds, or brightened by a noonday sun. Once 
 more the loon raised his tremulous cry, near the 
 foot of the lake, and the mystery of the alarm 
 was explained. Deerslayer adjusted his hard pil- 
 low, stretched his form in the bottom of the ca- 
 noe, and slept. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 “Clear, placid Leman! Thy contrasted lake 
 With the wide world I dwelt in, is a thing 
 Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake 
 Earth’s troubled waters for a purer spring. 
 
 This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing 
 To waft me from distraction : once I loved 
 Torn ocean’s roar, but thy soft murmuring 
 Sounds sweet as if a sister’s voice reproved, 
 
 That I with stern delights should e’er have been so 
 moved.” 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Day had fairly dawned before the young man, 
 whom we have left in the situation described in 
 the last chapter, again opened his eyes. This 
 was no sooner done, than he started up, and 
 looked about him with the eagerness of one who 
 suddenly felt the importance of accurately ascer- 
 taining his precise position. His rest had been 
 deep and undisturbed ; and when he awoke, it 
 was with a clearness of intellect and a readiness 
 of resources that were much needed at that par- 
 ticular moment. The sun had not risen, it is 
 true, but the vault of heaven was rich with the 
 winning softness that “ brings and shuts the day,” 
 while the whole air was filled with the carols of 
 birds, the hymns of the feathered tribe. These 
 sounds first told Deerslayer the risks he ran. 
 The air, for wind it could scarce be called, was 
 still light, it is true, but it had increased a little 
 in the course of the night, and as the canoes were 
 mere feathers on the water, they had drifted 
 twice the expected distance ; and, what was still 
 more dangerous, had approached so near the 
 base of the mountain that here rose precipitously 
 from the eastern shore, as to render the carols 
 of the birds plainly audible. This was not the 
 4 
 
 worst. The third canoe had taken the same di- 
 rection, and was slowly drifting toward a point 
 where it must inevitably touch, unless turned 
 aside by a shift of wind, or human hands. In 
 other respects, nothing presented itself to attract 
 attention, or to awaken alarm. The castle stood 
 on its shoal, nearly abreast of the canoes, for tho 
 drift had amounted to miles in the course of the 
 night, and the ark lay fastened to its piles, as 
 both had been left so many hours before. 
 
 As a matter of course, Deerslayer’s attention 
 was first given to the canoe ahead. It was al- 
 ready quite near the point, and a very few strokes 
 of the paddle sufficed to tell him that it must 
 touch before he could possibly overtake it. Just 
 at this moment, too, the wind inopportunely 
 freshened, rendering the drift of the light craft 
 much more rapid and certain. Feeling the im- 
 possibility of preventing a contact with the land, 
 the young man wisely determined not to heat 
 himself with unnecessary exertions ; but, first 
 looking to the priming of his piece, he proceeded 
 slowly and warily toward the point, taking care 
 to make a little circuit, that he might be exposed 
 on only one side as he approached. 
 
 The canoe adrift, being directed by no such 
 intelligence, pursued its proper way, and grounded 
 on a small sunken rock at the distance of three 
 or four yards from the shore. Just at that mo- 
 ment Deerslayer had got abreast of the point, 
 and turned the bows of his own boat to the land ; 
 first casting loose his tow, that his movements 
 might be unencumbered. The canoe hung an 
 instant on the rock ; then it rose a hair’s-breadth 
 on an almost imperceptible swell of the water, 
 swung round, floated clear, and reached the 
 strand. All this the young man noted, but it 
 neither quickened his pulses nor hastened his 
 hand. If any one had been lying in wait for the 
 arrival of the waif, he must be seen, and the ut- 
 most caution in approaching the shore became 
 indispensable ; if no one was in ambush, hurry 
 was unnecessary. The point being nearly diago- 
 nally opposite to the Indian encampment, he 
 hoped the last, though the former was not only 
 possible, but probable ; for the savages were 
 prompt in adopting all the expedients of their 
 particular modes of warfare, and quite likely had 
 many scouts searching the shores for craft to 
 carry them off to the castle. As a glance at the. 
 lake from any height or projection would expose 
 the smallest object on its surface, there was little 
 hope that either of the canoes could pass un- 
 seen ; and Indian sagacity needed no instruction 
 to tell which way a boat or a log would drift 
 when the direction of the wind was known. As 
 
50 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 Deerslayer drew nearer and nearer to the land, 
 the stroke of his paddle grew slower, his eye be- 
 came more watchful, and his ears and nostrils 
 almost dilated with the effort to detect any lurk- 
 ing danger. ’Twas a trying moment for a novice, 
 nor was there the encouragement which even the 
 timid sometimes feel when conscious of being ob- 
 served and commended. He was entirely alone, 
 thrown on his own resources, and was cheered by 
 no friendly eye, emboldened by no encouraging 
 voice. Notwithstanding all these circumstances, 
 the most experienced veteran in forest warfare 
 could not have behaved better. Equally free 
 from recklessness and hesitation, his advance was 
 marked by a sort of philosophical prudence that 
 appeared to render him superior to all motives 
 but those which were best calculated to effect his 
 purpose. Such was the commencement of a ca- 
 reer in forest exploits that afterward rendered 
 this man, in his way, and under the limits of his 
 habits and opportunities, as renowned as many a 
 hero whose name has adorned the pages of works 
 more celebrated than legends simple as ours can 
 ever become. 
 
 When about a hundred yards from the shore, 
 Deerslayer rose in the canoe, gave three or four 
 vigorous strokes with the paddle, sufficient of 
 themselves to impel the bark to land, and then, 
 quickly laying aside the instrument of labor, he 
 seized that of war. He was in the very act of 
 raising the rifle, when a sharp report was followed 
 by the buzz of a bullet that passed so near his 
 body as to cause him involuntarily to start. The 
 next instant Deerslayer staggered, and fell his 
 whole length in the bottom of the canoe. A yell 
 — it came from a single voice — followed, and an 
 Indian leaped from the bushes upon the open 
 area of the point, bounding toward the canoe. 
 This was the moment the young man desired. 
 He rose on the instant and levelled his own rifle 
 at his uncovered foe ; but his finger hesitated 
 about pulling the trigger on one whom he held at 
 such a disadvantage. This little delay, probably, 
 saved the life of the Indian, who bounded back 
 into the cover as swiftly as he had broken out of 
 it. In the mean time Deerslayer had been swiftly 
 approaching the land, and his own canoe reached 
 the point just as his enemy disappeared. As its 
 movements had not been directed, it touched the 
 shore a few yards from the other boat; and, 
 though the rifle of his foe had to be loaded, there 
 was not time to secure his prize and to carry it 
 beyond danger before he would be exposed to 
 another shot. Under the circumstances, there- 
 fore, he did not pause an instant, but dashed into 
 the woods and sought a cover. 
 
 On the immediate point there was a small 
 open area, partly in native grass, and partly 
 beach, but a dense fringe of bushes lined its 
 upper side. This narrow belt of dwarf vegeta- 
 tion passed, one issued immediately into the high 
 and gloomy vaults of the forest. The land was 
 tolerably level for a few hundred feet, and then 
 it rose precipitously in a mountain-side. The 
 trees were tall, large, and so free from under- 
 brush, that they resembled vast columns, irregu- 
 larly scattered, upholding a dome of leaves. Al- 
 though they stood tolerably close together for 
 their ages and size, the eye could penetrate to 
 considerable distances ; and bodies of men, even, 
 might have engaged beneath their cover with 
 concert and intelligence. 
 
 Deerslayer knew that his adversary must be 
 employed in reloading, unless he had fled. The 
 former proved to be the case, for the young man 
 had no sooner placed himself behind a tree, than 
 he caught a glimpse of the arm of the Indian, his 
 body being concealed by an oak, in the very act 
 of forcing the leathered bullet home. Nothing 
 would have been easier than to spring forward 
 and decide the affair by a close assault on his un- 
 prepared foe ; but every feeling of Deerslayer re- 
 volted at such a step, although his own life had 
 just been attempted from a cover. He was yet 
 unpractised in the ruthless expedients of savage 
 warfare, of which he knew nothing except by 
 tradition and theory, and it struck him as an un- 
 fair advantage to assail an unarmed foe. His 
 color bad heightened, his eye frowned, his lips 
 were compressed, and all his energies were col- 
 lected and ready ; but, instead of advancing to 
 fire, he dropped his rifle to the usual position of 
 a sportsman in readiness to catch his aim, and 
 muttered to himself, unconscious that he was 
 speaking : 
 
 “ No, no — that may be red-skin warfare, but 
 it’s not a Christian’s gifts. Let the miscreant 
 charge, and then we’ll take it out like men ; for 
 the canoe he must not, and shall not have. No, 
 no ; let him have time to load, and God will take 
 care of the right ! ” 
 
 All this time the Indian had been so intent on 
 his own movements, that he was even ignorant 
 that his enemy was in the woods. His only ap- 
 prehension was, that the canoe would be re- 
 covered and carried away before he might be in 
 readiness to prevent it. He had sought the 
 cover from habit, but was within a few feet of 
 the fringe of bushes, and could be at the margin 
 of the forest in readiness to fire in a moment. 
 The distance between him and his enemy was 
 about fifty yards, and the trees were so arranged 
 
INDIAN TREACHERY. 
 
 51 
 
 by Nature that the line of sight was not inter- 
 rupted except by the particular trees behind 
 which each party stood. 
 
 His rifle was no sooner loaded, than the sav- 
 age glanced around him, and advanced incau- 
 tiously as regarded the real, but stealthily as re- 
 spected the fancied position of his enemy, until 
 he was fairly exposed. Then Deerslayer stepped 
 from behind his own cover, and hailed him. 
 
 “ This-a-way, red-skin ; this-a-way if you’re 
 looking for me,” he called out. “ I’m young in 
 war, but not so young as to stand on an open 
 beach to be shot down like an owl by daylight. 
 It rests on yourself whether it’s peace or war 
 atween us ; for my gifts are white gifts, and I’m 
 not one of them that thinks it valiant to slay hu- 
 man mortals, singly, in the woods.” 
 
 The savage was a good deal startled by this 
 sudden discovery of the danger he ran. He had 
 a little knowledge of English, however, and caught 
 the drift of the other’s meaning. He was also 
 too well schooled to betray alarm, but, dropping 
 the butt of his rifle to the earth with an air of 
 confidence, he made a gesture of lofty courtesy. 
 All this was done with the ease and self-posses- 
 sion of one accustomed to consider no man his 
 superior. In the midst of this consummate act- 
 ing, however, the volcano that raged within 
 caused his eyes to glare and his nostrils to di- 
 .ate like those of some wild beast that is sudden- 
 ly prevented from taking the fatal leap. 
 
 “ Two canoe,” he said, in the deep, guttural 
 tones of his race, holding up the number of fin- 
 gers he mentioned, by way of preventing mis- 
 takes ; “ one for yoti — one for me.” 
 
 “No, no, Mingo, that will never do. You 
 own neither, and neither shall you have, as long 
 as I can prevent it. I know it’s war atween your 
 people and mine, but that’s no reason why human 
 mortals should slay each other, like savage crea- 
 tur’s that meet in the woods ; go your way, then, 
 and leave me to go mine. The world is large 
 enough for us both, and when we meet fairly in 
 battle, why, the Lord will order the fate of each 
 of us.” 
 
 “ Good ! ” exclaimed the Indian ; “ my brother 
 missionary — great talk ; all about Hanitou.” 
 
 “Not so — not so, warrior. I’m not good 
 enough for the Moravians, and am too good for 
 most of the other vagabonds that preach about 
 in the woods. No, no, I’m only a hunter, as yet, 
 though afore the peace is made, ’tis like enough 
 there’ll be occasion to strike a blow at some of 
 your people. Still, I wish it to be done in fair 
 fight, and not in a quarrel about the ownership . 
 ©f a miserable canoe.” 
 
 “ Good ! My brother very young — but he rery 
 wise. Little warrior — great talker. Chief, some- 
 times, in council.” 
 
 “ I don’t know this, nor do I say it, Injin,” 
 returned Deerslayer, coloring a little at the ill- 
 concealed sarcasm of the other’s manner ; “ I 
 look forward to a life in the woods, and I only 
 hope it may be a peaceable one. All young 
 men must go on the war-path, when there’s occa- 
 sion, but war isn’t needfully massacre. I’ve seen 
 enough of the last, this very night, to know that 
 Providence frowns on it, and I now invite you to 
 go your own way, while I go mine, and hope that 
 we may part fri’nds.” 
 
 “ Good ! My brother ha3 two scalp — gray 
 hair under t’other. Old wisdom — young tongue.” 
 
 Here the savage advanced with confidence, 
 his hand extended, his face smiling, and his whole 
 bearing denoting amity and respect. Deerslayer 
 met his offered friendship in a proper spirit, and 
 they shook hands cordially, each endeavoring to 
 assure the other of his sincerity and desire to be 
 at peace. 
 
 “All have his own,” said the Indian; “my 
 canoe, mine ; your canoe, your’n. Go look ; if 
 your’n, you keep ; if mine, I keep.” 
 
 “ That’s just, red-skin ; thougn you must be 
 wrong in thinking the canoe your property. 
 Howsever, seein’ is believin’, and we’ll go down 
 to the shore, where you may look with your own 
 eyes; for it’s likely you’ll. object to trustin’ alto- 
 gether to mine.” 
 
 The Indian uttered his favorite exclamation 
 of “ Good ! ” and then they walked, side by side, 
 toward the shore. There was no apparent dis- 
 trust in the manner of either, the Indian moving 
 in advance, as if he wished to show his compan- 
 ion that he did not fear turning his back to him. 
 As they reached the open ground, the former 
 pointed toward Deerslayer’s boat and said, em- 
 phatically : 
 
 “ No mine — pale-face canoe. This red man’s. 
 No want other man’s canoe — want his own.” 
 
 “You’re wrong, red-skin, you’re altogether 
 wrong. This canoe was left in old Hutter’s keep- 
 ing, and is his’n according to all law, red or white, 
 till its owner comes to claim it. Here’s the seats 
 and the stitching of the bark to speak for them- 
 selves. No man ever know’d an Injin to turn off 
 such work.” 
 
 “ Good I My brother little ole — big wisdom. 
 Injin no make him. White man’s work.” 
 
 “ I’m glad you think so, for holding out to the 
 contrary might have made ill blood atween us ; 
 every one having a right to take possession of 
 his own. I’ll just shove the canoe out of reach 
 
52 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 of dispute at once, as the quickest way of settling 
 difficulties.” 
 
 While Deerslayer was speaking, he put a foot 
 against the end of the light boat, and, giving a 
 vigorous shove, he sent it out into the lake a 
 hundred feet or more, where, taking the true cur- 
 rent, it would necessarily float past the point, and 
 be in no further danger of coming ashore. The 
 savage started at this ready and decided expedi- 
 ent, and his companion saw that he cast a hurried 
 and fierce glance at his own canoe, or that which 
 contained the paddles. The change of manner, 
 however, was but momentary, and then the Iro- 
 quois resumed his air of friendliness and a smile 
 of satisfaction. 
 
 “ Good ! ” he repeated, with stronger empha- 
 sis than ever. “ Young head, old mind. Know 
 how to settle quarrel. Farewell, brother. He 
 go to house in water — musk-rat house — Injin go 
 to camp ; tell chiefs no find canoe.” 
 
 Deerslayer was not sorry to hear this propo- 
 sal, for he felt anxious to join the females, and 
 he took the offered hand of the Indian very 
 willingly. The parting words were friendly, and, 
 while the red man walked calmly toward the 
 wood, with the rifle in the hollow of his arm, with- 
 out once looking back in uneasiness or distrust, 
 the white man moved toward the remaining canoe, 
 carrying his piece in the same pacific manner, it 
 is true, but keeping his eyes fastened on the move- 
 ments of the other. This distrust, however, 
 seemed to be altogether uncalled for, and, as if 
 ashamed to have entertained it, the young man 
 averted his look, and stepped carelessly up to his 
 boat. Here he began to push the canoe from the 
 shore, and to make his other preparations for de- 
 parting. He might have been thus employed a 
 minute, when, happening to turn his face toward 
 the land, his quick and certain eye told him, at a 
 glance, the imminent jeopardy in which his life 
 was placed. The black, ferocious eyes of the 
 savage were glancing on him, like those of the 
 crouching tiger, through a small opening in the 
 bushes, and the muzzle of his rifle seemed already 
 to be opening in a line with his own body. 
 
 Then, indeed, the long practice of Deerslayer 
 as a hunter did him good service. Accustomed 
 to fire with the deer on the bound, and often 
 when the precise position of the animal’s body 
 had in a manner to be guessed at, he used the 
 same expedients here. To cock and poise his 
 rifle were the acts of a single moment and a sin- 
 gle motion ; then, aiming almost without sight- 
 ing, he fired into the bushes where he knew a 
 body ought to be in order to sustain the appall- 
 ing countenance which alone was visible. There 
 
 was not time to raise the piece any higher or t« 
 take a more deliberate aim. So rapid were his 
 movements, that both parties discharged their 
 pieces at the same instant, the concussions min. 
 gling in one report. The mountains, indeed, gave 
 back but a single echo. Deerslayer dropped his 
 piece, and stood, with head erect, steady as one 
 of the pines in the calm of a June morning, 
 watching the result ; while the savage gave the 
 yell that has become historical for its appalling 
 influence, leaped through the bushes, and came 
 bounding across the open ground flourishing a 
 tomahawk. Still Deerslayer moved not, but 
 stood with his unloaded rifle fallen against his 
 shoulders, while, with a hunter’s habits, his hands 
 were mechanically feeling for the powder-horn 
 and charger. When about forty feet from his 
 enemy, the savage hurled his keen weapon ; but 
 it was with an eye so vacant, and a hand so un- 
 steady and feeble, that the young man caught it 
 by the handle as it was flying past him. At that 
 instant the Indian staggered and fell his whole 
 length on the ground. 
 
 “ I know’d it — I know’d it ! ” exclaimed Deer- 
 slayer, who was already preparing to force a fresh 
 bullet into his rifle ; “ I know’d it must come to 
 this as soon as I had got the range from the 
 ereatur’s eyes. A man sights suddenly and fires 
 quick when his own life’s in danger ; yes, I 
 know’d it would come to this. I Was about the 
 hundredth part of a second too quick for him, or 
 it might have been bad for me ! The riptyle’s 
 bullet has just grazed my side — but, say what you 
 will for or ag’in ’em, a red-skin is by no means as 
 sartain with powder and ball as a white man. 
 Their gifts don’t seem to lie that-a-way. Even 
 Chingachgook, great as he is in other matters, 
 isn’t downright deadly with the rifle.” 
 
 By this time the piece was reloaded, and Deer- 
 slayer, after tossing the tomahawk into the canoe, 
 advanced to his victim, and stood over him, lean- 
 ing on his rifle, in melancholy attention. It was 
 the first instance in which he had seen a man fall 
 in battle — it was the first fellow-creature against 
 whom he had ever seriously raised his own hand. 
 The sensations were novel ; and regret, with the 
 freshness of our better feelings, mingled with his 
 triumph. The Indian was not dead, though shot 
 directly through the body He lay on his back 
 motionless, but his eyes, now full of conscious- 
 ness, watched each action of his victor — as the 
 fallen bird regards the fowler — jealous of every 
 movement. The man probably expected the fatal 
 blow which was to precede the loss of his scalp ; 
 or perhaps he anticipated that this latter act of 
 cruelty would precede his death. Deerslayer read 
 
THE DYING WARRIOR. 
 
 53 
 
 his thoughts ; and he found a melancholy satis- 
 faction in relieving the apprehensions of the help- 
 less savage. 
 
 “ No, no, red-skin,” he said ; “ you’ve nothing 
 more to fear from me. I am of a Christian stock, 
 and scalping is not of my gifts. I’ll just make 
 nartain of your rifle, and then come back and do 
 you what sarvice I can. Though here I can’t 
 stay much longer, as the crack of three rifles will 
 be apt to bring some of your devils down upon 
 me.” 
 
 The close of this was said in a sort of a solilo- 
 quy, as the young man went in quest of the fallen 
 rifle. The piece was found where its owner had 
 dropped it, and was immediately put into the 
 canoe. Laying his own rifle at its side, Deer- 
 slayer then returned and stood over the Indian 
 again. 
 
 “ All inmity atween you and me’s at an ind, 
 red-skin,” he said ; “ and you may set your heart 
 at rest on the score of the scalp, or any further 
 injury. My gifts are white, as I’ve told you ; and 
 I hope my conduct will be white also ! ” 
 
 Could looks have conveyed all they meant, it 
 is probable Deerslayer’s innocent vanity on the 
 subject of color would have been rebuked a little ; 
 but he comprehended the gratitude that was ex- 
 pressed in the eyes of the dying savage, without 
 in the least detecting the bitter sarcasm that 
 struggled with the better feeling. 
 
 “ Water ! ” ejaculated the thirsty and unfortu- 
 nate creature ; “ give poor Injin water.” 
 
 “ Ay, water you shall have, if you drink the 
 lake dry. I’ll just carry you down to it, that you 
 may take your fill. This is the way, they tell me, 
 with all wounded people — water is their greatest 
 comfort and delight.” 
 
 So saying, Deerslayer raised the Indian in his 
 »».rms, and carried him to the lake. Here he first 
 helped him to take an attitude in which he could 
 appease his burning thirst ; after which he seated 
 himself on a stone, and took the head of his 
 wounded adversary in his own lap, and endeav- 
 ored to soothe his anguish in the best manner he 
 could. 
 
 “ It would be sinful in me to tell you your 
 time hadn’t come, warrior,” he commenced, “ and 
 therefore I’ll not say it. You’ve passed the mid- 
 dle age already, and, considerin’ the sort of lives 
 ye lead, your days have been pretty well filled. 
 The principal thing now is, to look forward to 
 what comes next. Neither red-skin nor pale-face, 
 on the whole, calculates much on sleepin’ forever ; 
 but both expect to live in another world. Each 
 has his gifts, and will be judged by ’em, and, I 
 suppose, you’ve thought these matters over 
 
 enough, not to stand in need of sarmons when 
 the trial comes. You’ll find your happy hunting, 
 grounds, if you’ve been a just Injin ; if an onjust, 
 you’ll meet your desarts in another way. I’ve 
 my own idees about these things ; but you’re too 
 old and exper’enced to need any explanations 
 from one as young as I.” 
 
 “ Good ! ” ejaculated the Indian, whose voice 
 retained its depth even as life ebbed away; 
 “ young head — ole wisdom ! ” 
 
 “ It’s sometimes a consolation, when the ind 
 comes, to know that them we’ve harmed, or tried 
 to harm, forgive us. I suppose natur’ seeks this 
 relief, by way of getting a pardon on ’arth ; as 
 we never can know whether He pardons, who is 
 all in all, till judgment itself comes. It’s soothing 
 to know that any pardon at such times ; and that, 
 I conclude, is the secret. Now, as for myself, I 
 overlook altogether your designs ag’in my life : 
 first, because no harm came of ’em ; next, because 
 it’s your gifts, and natur’, and trainin’, and I 
 ought not to have trusted you at all ; and, finally 
 and chiefly, because I can bear no ill-will to a 
 dying man, whether heathen or Christian. So 
 put your heart at ease, so far as I’m consarned ; 
 you know best what other matters ought to trou- 
 ble you, or what ought to give you satisfaction in 
 so trying a moment.” 
 
 It is probable that the Indian had some of the 
 fearful glimpses of the unknown state of being 
 which God in mercy seems at times to afford to 
 all the human race ; but they were necessarily in 
 conformity with his habits and prejudices. Like 
 most of his people, and like too many of our own, 
 he thought more of dying in a way to gain ap- 
 plause among those he left than to secure a better 
 state of existence hereafter. While Deerslayer 
 was speaking, his mind was a little bewildered, 
 though he felt that the intention was good ; and 
 when he had done, a regret passed over his spirit 
 that none of his own tribe were present to wit- 
 ness his stoicism, under extreme bodily suffering, 
 and the firmness with which he met his end. 
 With the high innate courtesy that so often dis- 
 tinguishes the Indian warrior before he becomes 
 corrupted by too much intercourse with the worst 
 class of the white men, he endeavored to express 
 his thankfulness for 'the other’s good intentions, 
 and to let him understand that they were appre- 
 ciated. 
 
 “ Good ! ” he repeated, for this was an Eng- 
 lish word much used by the savages — “ good — 
 young head ; young heart, too. Old heart tough ; 
 no shed tear. Hear Indian when he die, and no 
 want to lie — what he call him ? ” 
 
 “ Deerslayer is the name I bear now, though 
 
54 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 the Delawares have said that, when I get back 
 from this war-path, I shall have a more manly 
 title, provided I can ’am one.” 
 
 “ That good name for boy— poor name for 
 warrior. He get better quick. No fear there ” 
 —the savage had strength sufficient, under the 
 strong excitement he felt, to raise a hand and tap 
 the young man on his breast — “ eye sartain — fin- 
 ger lightning — aim, death — great warrior soon. 
 N o Deerslay er — Hawkeye — Hawkey e — Hawkeye. 
 Shake hand.” 
 
 Deerslayer — or Hawkeye, as the youth was 
 then first named, for in after-years he bore the 
 appellation throughout all that region — Deerslay- 
 er took the hand of the savage, whose last breath 
 was drawn in that attitude, gazing in admiration 
 at the countenance of a stranger, who had shown 
 so much readiness, skill, and firmness, in a scene 
 that was equally trying and novel. When the 
 reader remembers it is the highest gratification 
 an Indian can receive to see his enemy betray 
 weakness, he will be better able to appreciate 
 the conduct which had extorted so great a con- 
 cession at such a moment. 
 
 “ His spirit has fled ! ” said Deerslayer, in a 
 suppressed, melancholy voice. “ Ah’s me ! Well, 
 to this we must all come, sooner or later ; and he 
 t£ happiest, let his skin be of what color it may, 
 who is best fitted to meet it. Here lies the body 
 of no doubt a brave warrior, and the soul is al- 
 ready flying toward its heaven or hell, whether 
 that be a happy hunting-ground, a place scant of 
 game ; regions of glory, according to Moravian 
 doctrine, or flames of fire ! So it happens, too, 
 as regards other matters. Here have old Hutter 
 and Hurry Harry got themselves into difficulty, 
 if they haven’t got themselves into torment and 
 death, and all for a bounty that luck offers to me 
 in what many would think a lawful and suitable 
 manner. But not a farthing of such money shall 
 cross my hand. White I was born, and white 
 will I die ; clinging to color to the last, even 
 though the king’s majesty, his governors, and all 
 his councils, both at home and in the colonies, 
 forget from what they come, and where they hope 
 to go, and all for a little advantage in warfare. 
 No, no — warrior, hand of mine shall never molest 
 your scalp, and so your soul may rest in peace on 
 the p’int of making a decent appearance, when 
 the body comes to join it, in your own land of 
 spirits.” 
 
 . Deerslayer arose as soon as he had spoken. 
 Then he placed the body of the dead man in a 
 sitting posture, with its back against the little 
 rock, taking the necessary care to prevent it from 
 falling o: in any way settling into an attitude that 
 
 might be thought unseemly by the sensitive 
 though wild notions of a savage. When this duty 
 was performed, the young man stood gazing at 
 the grim countenance of his fallen foe in a sort 
 of melancholy abstraction. As was his practice, 
 however, a habit gained by living so much alone 
 in the forest, he then began again to give utter- 
 ance to his thoughts and feelings aloud. 
 
 “ I didn’t wish your life, red-skin,” he said, 
 “ but you left me no choice atween killing or be- 
 ing killed. Each party acted according to his 
 gifts, I suppose, and blame can light on neither. 
 You were treacherous, according to your natur’ 
 in war, and I was a little over-sightful, as I’m apt 
 to be in trusting others. Well, this is my first 
 battle with a human mortal, though it’s not likely 
 to be the last. I have fou’t most of the creatur’s 
 of the forest, such as bears, wolves, painters, and 
 catamounts, but this is the beginning with the 
 red-skins. If I was Injin bom, now, I might tell 
 of this, or carry in the scalp, and boast of the 
 expl’ite afore the whole tribe ; or,- if my inimy had 
 only been even a bear, ’twould have been nat’ral 
 and proper to let everybody know what had hap- 
 pened ; but I don’t well see how I’m to let even 
 Chingachgook into this secret, so long as it can 
 be done only by boasting with a white tongue. 
 And why should I wish to boast of it a’ter all? 
 It’s slaying a human, although he was a savage ; 
 and how do 1 know that he was a just Injin ; and 
 that he has not been taken away suddenly to any 
 thing but happy hunting-grounds ? When its on- 
 sartain whether good or evil has been done, the 
 wisest way is not to be boastful — still. I should 
 like Chingachgook to know that I haven’t dis- 
 credited the Delawares or my training ! ” 
 
 Part of this was uttered aloud, while part was 
 merely muttered between the speaker’s teeth ; 
 his more confident opinions enjoying the first ad- 
 vantage, while his doubts were expressed in the 
 latter mode. Soliloquy and reflection received a 
 startling interruption, however, by the sudden 
 appearance of a second Indian on the lake-shore, 
 a few hundred yards from the point. This man, 
 evidently another scout, who had probably been 
 drawn to the place by the reports of the rifles, 
 broke out of the forest with so little caution that 
 Deerslayer caught a view of his person before he 
 was himself discovered. When the latter event 
 did occur, as was the case a moment later, the 
 savage gave a loud yell, which was answered by 
 a dozen voices from different parts of the moun 
 tain-side. There was no longer any time for 
 delay ; in another minute the boat was quitting 
 the shore under long and steady sweeps of the 
 paddle. 
 
A SURPRISED MINGO. 
 
 55 
 
 As soon as Deerslayer believed himself to be 
 at a safe distance, he ceased his efforts, permit- 
 ting the little bark to drift, while he leisurely 
 took a survey of the state of things. The canoe 
 first sent adrift was floating before the air, quite 
 a quarter of a mile above him, and a little nearer 
 to the shore than he wished, now that he knew 
 more of the savages were so near at hand. The 
 canoe shoved from the point was within a few 
 yards of him, he having directed his own course 
 toward it on quitting the land. The dead Indian 
 lay in grim quiet where he had left him, the war- 
 rior who had shown himself from the forest had 
 already vanished, and the woods themselves were 
 as silent and seemingly deserted as the day they 
 came fresh from the hands of their great Crea- 
 tor. This profound stillness, however, lasted but 
 a moment. When time had been given to the 
 scouts of the enemy to reconnoitre, they burst 
 out of the thicket upon the naked point, filling 
 the air with yells of fury at discovering the death 
 of their companion. These cries were immedi- 
 ately succeeded by shouts of delight when they 
 reached the body and clustered eagerly around 
 it. Deerslayer was a sufficient adept in the 
 usages of the natives to understand the reason of 
 the change. The yell was the customary lamen- 
 tation at the loss of a warrior, the shout a sign 
 of rejoicing that the conqueror had not been able 
 to secure the scalp ; the trophy, without which a 
 victory is never considered complete. The dis- 
 tance at which the canoes lay probably prevented 
 any attempts to injure the conqueror, the Ameri- 
 can Indian, like the panther of his own woods, 
 seldom making any effort against his foe unless 
 tolerably certain it is under circumstances that 
 may be expected to prove effective. 
 
 As the young man had no longer any motive 
 to remain near the point, he prepared to collect 
 his canoes, in order to tow them off to the castle. 
 That nearest was soon in tow, when he proceeded 
 in quest of the other, which was all this time float- 
 ing up the lake. The eye of Deerslayer was no soon- 
 er fastened on this last boat, than it struck him 
 that it was nearer to the shore than it would have 
 been had it merely followed the course of the gen- 
 tle current of air. He began to suspect the influ- 
 ence of some unseen current in the water, and he 
 quickened his exertions, in order to regain pos- 
 session of it before it could drift in to a danger- 
 ous proximity to the woods. On getting nearer 
 he thought that the canoe had a perceptible mo- 
 tion through the water, and, as it lay broadside 
 to the air, that this motion was taking it toward 
 the land. A few vigorous strokes of the paddle 
 oarried him still nearer, when the mystery was 
 
 explained. Something was evidently in motion 
 on the off-side of the canoe or that which was 
 farthest from himself, and closer scrutiny showed 
 that it was a naked human arm. An Indian was 
 lying in the bottom of the canoe, and was pro- 
 pelling it slowly, but certainly, to the shore, 
 using his hand as a paddle. Deerslayer under- 
 stood the whole artifice at a glance. A savage 
 had swum off to the boat while he was occupied 
 with his enemy on the point, got possession, and 
 was using these means to urge it to the shore. 
 
 Satisfied that the man in the canoe could 
 have no arms, Deerslayer did not hesitate to dash 
 close alongside of the retiring boat, without 
 deeming it necessary to raise his own rifle. As 
 soon as the wash of the water, which he made in 
 approaching, became audible to the prostrate 
 savage, the latter sprang to his feet, and uttered 
 an exclamation that proved how completely he 
 was taken by surprise. 
 
 “If you’ve enj’yed yourself enough in that 
 canoe, red-skin,” Deerslayer coolly observed, stop- 
 ping his own career in sufficient time to prevent 
 an absolute collision between the two boats — “ if 
 you’ve enj’yed yourself enough in that canoe, 
 you’ll do a prudent act by taking to the lake 
 ag’in. I’m reasonable in these matters, and 
 don’t crave your blood, though there’s them 
 about that would look upon you more as a due- 
 bill for the bounty than a human mortal. Take to 
 the lake this minute, afore we get to hot words.” 
 
 The savage was one of those who did not 
 understand a word of English, and he was in- 
 debted to the gestures of Deerslayer, and to the 
 expression of an eye that did not often deceive, 
 for an imperfect comprehension of his meaning. 
 Perhaps, too, the sight of the rifle that lay so 
 near the hand of the white man quickened his 
 decision. At all events, he crouched like a tiger 
 about to take his leap, uttered a yell, and the 
 next instant his naked body disappeared in the 
 water. When he rose to take breath, it was at 
 the distance of several yards from the canoe, and 
 the hasty glance he threw behind him denoted 
 how much he feared the arrival of a fatal mes- 
 senger from the rifle of his foe. But the young 
 man made no indication of any hostile intention. 
 Deliberately securing the canoe to the others, he 
 began to paddle from the shore; and by the 
 time the Indian reached the land, and had shaken 
 himself, like a spaniel on quitting the water, his 
 dreaded enemy was already beyond rifle-shot on 
 his way to the castle. As was so much his prac- 
 tice, Deerslayer did not fail to soliloquize on what 
 had just occurred, while steadily pursuing his 
 course toward the point of destination. 
 
66 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “ Well, well ” — he commenced — “ ’twould 
 hare been wrong to kill a human mortal without 
 an object. Scalps are of no account with me, 
 and life is sweet, and ought not to be taken mar- 
 cilessly by them that have white gifts. The sav- 
 age was a Mingo, it’s true ; and I make no doubt 
 he is, and will be as long as he lives, a ra’al 
 riptyle and vagabond; but that’s no reason I 
 should forget my gifts and color. No, no — let 
 him go ; if ever we meet ag’in, rifle in hand, why 
 then ’twill be seen which has the stoutest heart 
 and the quickest eye. — Hawkeye ! That’s not a 
 bad name for a warrior, sounding much more 
 manful and valiant than Deerslayer ! ’Twouldn’t 
 be a bad title to begin with, and it has been fair- 
 ly ’arned. If ’twas Chingachgook, now, he might 
 go home, and boast of his deeds, and the chiefs 
 would name him Hawkeye in a minute ; but it 
 don’t become white blood to brag, and ’tisn’t easy 
 to see how the matter can be known unless I do. 
 Well, well — every thing is in the hands of Provi- 
 dence ; this affair as well as another ; I’ll trust 
 to that for getting my desarts in all things.” 
 
 Having thus betrayed what might be termed 
 his weak spot, the young man continued to pad- 
 dle in silence, making his way diligently, and as 
 fast as his tows would allow him, toward the cas- 
 tle. By this time the sun had not only risen, but 
 it had appeared over the eastern mountains, and 
 was shedding a flood of glorious light on this as 
 yet unchristened sheet of water. The whole 
 scene was radiant with beauty ; and no one un- 
 accustomed to the ordinary history of the woods 
 would fancy it had so lately witnessed incidents 
 so ruthless and barbarous. As he approached 
 the building of old Hutter, Deerslayer thought, or 
 rather felt , that its appearance was in singular 
 harmony with all the rest of the scene. Although 
 nothing had been consulted but strength and se- 
 curity, the rude, massive logs, covered with their 
 rough bark, the projecting roof, and the form, 
 would contribute to render the building pictu- 
 resque in almost any situation, while its actual po- 
 sition added novelty and piquancy to its other 
 points of interest. 
 
 When Deerslayer drew nearer to the castle, 
 however, objects of interest presented themselves 
 that at once eclipsed any beauties that might 
 have distinguished the scenery of the lake, and 
 the site of the singular edifice. Judith and Hetty 
 Btood on the platform before the door, Hurry’s 
 door-yard, awaiting his approach with manifest 
 anxiety ; the former, from time to time, taking a 
 survey of his person and of the canoes through 
 the old ship’s spy-glass that has been already 
 mentioned. Never, probably, did this girl seem 
 
 more brilliantly beautiful than at that moment ; 
 the flush of anxiety and alarm increasing her 
 color to its richest tints, while the softness of her 
 eyes, a charm that even poor Hetty shared with 
 her, was deepened by intense concern. Such, at 
 least, without pausing or pretending to analyze 
 motives, or to draw any other very nice distinc- 
 tions between cause and effect, were the opinions 
 of the young man, as his canoes reached the side 
 of the ark, where he carefully fastened all three 
 before he put his foot on the platform. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 “ His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; 
 
 His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; 
 
 His tears pure messengers sent from his heart , 
 
 His heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth.” 
 
 Shakespeabb. 
 
 Neither of the girls spoke as Deerslayer stood 
 before them alone, his countenance betraying all 
 the apprehension he felt on account of the two 
 absent members of their party. 
 
 “ Father ! ” Judith at length exclaimed, suc- 
 ceeding in uttering the word, as it might be by a 
 desperate effort. 
 
 “He’s met with misfortune, and there’s no 
 use in concealing it,” answered Deerslayer, in his 
 direct and simple-minded manner. “ He and 
 Hurry are in Mingo hands, and Heaven only 
 knows what’s to be the tarmination. I’ve got 
 the canoes safe, and that’s a consolation, since 
 the vagabonds will have to swim for it, or raft 
 off, to come near this place. At sunset we’ll be 
 reenforced by Chingachgook, if I can manage to 
 get him into a canoe ; and then, I think, we two 
 can answer for the ark and the castle, till some 
 of the officers in the garrisons hear of this war- 
 path, which sooner or later must be the case, 
 when we may look for succor from that quarter, 
 if from no other.” 
 
 “ The officers ! ” exclaimed Judith, impatient- 
 ly, her color deepening, and her eye expressing a 
 lively but passing emotion. “ Who thinks or 
 speaks of the heartless gallants now ? — We are 
 sufficient of ourselves to defend the castle — but 
 what of my father and of poor Hurry Harry ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis natural you should feel this consarn for 
 your own parent, Judith, and I suppose its 
 equally so that you should feel it for Hurry Har- 
 ry too.” 
 
 Deerslayer then commenced a succinct but 
 clear narrative of all that occurred during the 
 night, in no manner concealing what had befallei 
 
THE HUNTER’S RETURN TO THE CASTLE. 
 
 57 
 
 his two companions, or his own opinion of what 
 might prove to be the consequences. The girls 
 listened with profound attention, but neither be- 
 trayed that feminine apprehension and concern 
 which would have followed such a communication 
 when made to those who were less accustomed to 
 the hazards and accidents of a frontier life. To 
 the surprise of Deerslayer, Judith seemed the 
 most distressed, Hetty listening eagerly, but ap- 
 pearing to brood over the facts in melancholy si- 
 lence, rather than betraying any outward signs 
 of feeling. The former’s agitation, the young 
 man did not fail to attribute to the interest she 
 felt in Hurry, quite as much as to her filial love, 
 while Hetty’s apparent indifference was ascribed 
 to that mental darkness which, in a measure, ob- 
 scured her intellect, and which possibly prevented 
 he» from foreseeing all the consequences. Little 
 was said, however, by either, Judith and her sis- 
 ter busying themselves in making the prepara- 
 tions for the morning meal, as they who habitu- 
 ally attend to such matters toil on mechanically 
 even in the midst of suffering and sorrow. The 
 plain but nutritious breakfast was taken by all 
 three in sombre silence. The girls ate little, but 
 Deerslayer gave proof of possessing one material 
 requisite of a good soldier, that of preserving his 
 appetite in the midst of the most alarming and 
 embarrassing circumstances. The meal was 
 nearly ended before a syllable was uttered ; then, 
 however, Judith spoke in the convulsive and hur- 
 ried manner in which feeling breaks through re- 
 straint, after the latter has become more painful 
 than even the betrayal of emotion. 
 
 “ Father would have relished this fish ! ” she 
 exclaimed ; “he says the salmon of the lakes is 
 almost as good as the salmon of the sea.” 
 
 “Your father has been acquainted with the 
 sea, they tell me, Judith,” returned the young 
 man, who could not forbear throwing a glance of 
 inquiry at the girl ; for, in common with all who 
 knew Hutter, he had some curiosity on the sub- 
 ject of his early history. “ Hurry Harry tells 
 me he was once a sailor.” 
 
 Judith first looked perplexed; then, influenced 
 by feelings that were novel to her, in more ways 
 than one, she became suddenly communicative, 
 and seemingly much interested in the discourse. 
 
 “ If Hurry knows any thing of father’s histo- 
 ry, I would he had told it to me ! ” she cried. 
 “ Sometimes I think, too, he was once a sailor, 
 and then again I think he was not. If that chest 
 were open, or if it could speak, it might let us into 
 his whole history. But its fastenings are too 
 Strong to be broken like packthread.” 
 
 Deerslayer turned to the chest in question, 
 
 and for the first time examined it closely. Al- 
 though discolored, and bearing proofs of having 
 received much ill treatment, he saw that it was of 
 materials and workmanship altogether superior to 
 any thing of the same sort he had ever before be- 
 held. The wood was dark, rich, and had once been 
 highly polished, though the treatment it had re- 
 ceived left little gloss on its surface, and various 
 scratches and indentations proved the rough col- 
 lisions that it had encountered with substances 
 still harder than itself. The comers were firmly 
 bound with steel, elaborately and richly wrought, 
 while the locks, of which it had no less than three, 
 and the hinges, were of a fashion and workmanship 
 that would have attracted attention even in a ware- 
 house of curious furniture. This chest was quite 
 large ; and when Deerslayer arose, and endeavored 
 to raise an end by its massive handle, he found 
 that the weight fully corresponded with the exter- 
 nal appearance. 
 
 “Did you never see that chest opened, Ju- 
 dith ? ” the young man demanded with frontier 
 freedom, for delicacy on such subjects was little 
 felt among the people on the verge of civilization, 
 in that age, even if it be to-day. 
 
 “Never. Father has never opened it in my 
 presence, if he ever opens it at all. No one here 
 has ever seen its lid raised, unless it be father . 
 nor do I even know that he has ever seen it.” 
 
 “Now, you’re wrong, Judith,” Hetty quietly 
 answered. “ Father has raised the lid, and Pve 
 seen him do it.” 
 
 A feeling of manliness kept the mouth of 
 Deerslayer shut ; for, while he would not have 
 hesitated about going far beyond what would be 
 thought the bounds of propriety, in questioning 
 the elder sister, he had just scruples about taking 
 what might be thought an advantage of the feeble 
 intellect of the younger. Judith, being under no 
 such restraint, however, turned quickly to the 
 last speaker, and continued the discourse. 
 
 “When and where did you see that chest 
 opened, Hetty? ” 
 
 “Here, and again and again. Father often 
 opens it when you are away, though he don’t in 
 the least mind my being by, and seeing all he 
 does, as well as hearing all he says.” 
 
 “ And what is it that he does, and what does 
 he say ? ” 
 
 “ That I cannot tell you , Judith,” returned the 
 other in a low but resolute voice. “ Father's 
 secrets are not my secrets.” 
 
 “ Secrets ! This is stranger still, Deerslayer, 
 that father should tell them to Hetty and not tell 
 them to me ! ” 
 
 “ There’s good reason for that, Judith, though 
 
5 $ 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 you T re not to know it. Father’s not here to an- 
 swer for himself, and I’ll say no more about it.” 
 
 Judith and Deerslayer looked surprised, and, 
 for a minute, the first seemed pained. But, sud- 
 denly recollecting herself, she turned away from 
 her sister, as if in pity for her weakness, and ad- 
 dressed the young man. 
 
 “ You’ve told but half your story,” she said, 
 u breaking off at the place where you went to sleep 
 in the canoe — or rather where you rose to listen 
 to the cry of the loon. We heard the call of 
 the loons, too, and thought their cries might 
 bring a storm, though we are little used to tem- 
 pests on this lake, at this season of the year.” 
 
 “ The winds blow and the tempests howl as 
 God pleases ; sometimes at one season, and some- 
 times at another,” answered Deerslayer ; “ and 
 the loons speak accordin’ to their natur’. Better 
 would it be if men where as honest and frank. 
 After I rose to listen to the birds, finding it could 
 not be Hurry’s signal, I lay down and slept. 
 When the day dawned I was up and stirring as 
 usual, and then I went in chase of the two canoes> 
 lest the Mingoes should lay hands on ’em,” 
 
 “You have not told us all, Deerslayer,” said 
 Judith, earnestly. “We heard rifles under the 
 eastern mountain ; the echoes were full and long, 
 and came so soon after the reports, that the pieces 
 must have been fired on or quite near to the shore. 
 Our ears are used to these signs, and are not to 
 be deceived.” 
 
 “ They’ve done their duty, gal, this time ; 
 yes, they’ve done their duty. Rifles have been 
 sighted this morning, ay, and triggers pulled, too, 
 though not as often as they might have been. 
 One warrior has gone to his happy hunting- 
 grounds, and that’s the whole of it. A man of 
 white blood and white gifts is not to be expected 
 to boast of his expl’ites, and to flourish scalps.” 
 
 Judith listened almost breathlessly ; and when 
 Deerslayer, in his quiet, modest manner, seemed 
 disposed to quit the subject, she rose and, cross- 
 ing the room, took a seat by his side. The 
 manner of the girl had nothing forward about it, 
 though it betrayed the quick instinct of a female’s 
 affection, and the sympathizing kindness of a 
 woman’s heart. She even took the hard hand of 
 the hunter, and pressed it in both her own, uncon- 
 sciously to herself, perhaps, while she looked ear- 
 nestly and even reproachfully into his sunburnt 
 face. 
 
 “You have been fighting the savages, Deer- 
 slayer, singly and by yourself !” she said. “In 
 your wish to take care of us — of Hetty — of me, 
 perhaps, you’ve fought the enemy bravely, with 
 no eye to encourage your deeds, or to witness 
 
 your fall, had it pleased Providence to suffer s# 
 great a calamity ! ” 
 
 “ I’ve fou’t, Judith ; yes, I have fou’t the 
 inimy, and that, too, for the first time in my life. 
 These things must be, and they bring with ’em a 
 mixed feelin’ of sorrow and triumph. Human 
 natur’ is a fightin’ natur’, I suppose, as all nations 
 kill in battle, and we must be true to our rights 
 and gifts. What has yet been done is no great 
 matter, but should Chingachgook come to the 
 rock this evening, as is agreed atween us, and I 
 get him off it onbeknown to the savages, or, if 
 known to them, ag’in their wishes and designs, 
 then may we all look to something like warfare, 
 afore the Mingoes shall get possession of either 
 the castle or the ark, or yourselves.” 
 
 “ Who is this Chingachgook ; from what place 
 does he come, and why does he come here ? ” 
 
 “ The questions are nat’ral and right, I sup- 
 pose, though the youth has a great name, already, 
 in his own part of the country. Chingachgook, 
 is a Mohican by blood, consorting with the Dela- 
 wares by usage, as is the case with most of hia 
 tribe, which has long been broken up by the in- 
 crease of our color. He is one of the family of 
 the great chiefs, Uncas, his father, having been 
 the considerablest warrior and counsellor of hia 
 people. Even old Tamenund honors Chingach- 
 gook, though he is thought to be yet too young 
 to lead in war ; and then the nation is so dis- 
 parsed and diminished, that chieftainship among 
 ’em has got to be little more than a name. Well, 
 this war having commenced in ’arnest, the Delaware 
 and I rendezvous’d an app’intment, to meet this 
 evening at sunset on the rendezvous-rock at the 
 foot of this very lake, intending to come out on 
 our first hostile expedition ag’in the Mingoes. 
 Why we come exactly this-a-way is our own 
 secret ; but thoughtful young men on a war-path, 
 as you may suppose, do nothing without a calcu- 
 lation and a design.” 
 
 “ A Delaware can have no unfriendly inten- 
 tions toward us,” said Judith, after a moment’s 
 hesitation, “ and we know you to be friendly.” 
 
 ‘Treachery is the last crime I hope to be 
 accused of,” returned Deerslayer, hurt at the 
 gleam of distrust that had shot through Judith’s 
 mind ; “ and, least of all, treachery to my own 
 color.” 
 
 “No one suspects yore, Deerslayer,” the girl 
 inpetuously cried. “ No — no — your honest coun- 
 tenance would be sufficient surety for the truth 
 of a thousand hearts ! If all men had as honest 
 tongues, and no more promised what they did not 
 mean to perform, there would be less wrong done 
 in the world, and fine feathers and scarlet cloak* 
 
A USEFUL FRIEND. 
 
 59 
 
 would not be thought excuses for baseness and 
 deception.” 
 
 The girl spoke with strong, nay, even with 
 convulsed feeling, and her fine eyes, usually so 
 soft and alluring, flashed fire as she concluded. 
 Deerslayer could not but observe this extraordi- 
 nary emotion ; but, with the tact of a courtier, he 
 avoided not only any allusion to the circumstance, 
 but succeeded in concealing the effect of his dis- 
 covery on himself. Judith gradually grew calm 
 again, and, as she was obviously anxious to ap- 
 pear to advantage in the eyes of the young man, 
 she was soon able to renew the conversation as 
 composedly as if nothing had occurred to disturb 
 her. 
 
 “ I have no right to look into your secrets, or 
 the secrets of your friend, Deerslayer,” she con- 
 tinued, “ and am ready to take all you say on 
 trust. If we can really get another male ally to 
 join us at this trying moment, it will aid us much ; 
 and I am not without hope that when the savages 
 find we are able to keep the lake, they will offer 
 to give up their prisoners in exchange for skins, 
 or at least for the keg of powder that we have in 
 the house.” 
 
 The young man had the words “ scalps ” and 
 “ bounty,” on his lips, but a reluctance to alarm 
 the feelings of the daughters prevented him from 
 making the allusion he had intended to the prob- 
 able fate of their father. Still, so little was he 
 practised in the arts of deception, that his ex- 
 pressive countenance was, of itself, understood by 
 the quick-witted Judith, whose intelligence had 
 been sharpened by the risks and habits of her life. 
 
 “ I understand what you mean,” she contin- 
 ued, hurriedly, “ and what you would say, but for 
 the fear of hurting me — us, I mean ; for Hetty 
 loves her father quite as well as I do. But this 
 is not as we think of Indians. They never scalp 
 an unhurt prisoner, but would rather take him 
 away alive, unless, indeed, the fierce wish for tor- 
 turing should get the mastery of them. I fear 
 nothing for my father’s scalp, and little for his 
 life. Could they steal on us in the night, we should 
 all probably suffer in this way ; but men taken 
 in open strife are seldom injured ; not, at least, 
 until the time of torture comes.” 
 
 “ That’s tradition, I’ll allow, and it’s accordin’ 
 to practice — but, Judith, do you know the ’ar’nd 
 on which your father and Hutter went ag’in the 
 savages ? ” 
 
 “I do ; and a cruel errand it was ! But what 
 will you have ? Men will be men, and some even 
 that flaunt in their gold and silver, and carry the 
 king’s commission in their pockets, are not guilt- 
 leas of equal cruelty.” Judith’s eye again flashed, 
 
 but by a desperate struggle she resumed her com- 
 posure. “ I get warm when I think of all the 
 wrong that men do,” she added, affecting to smile, 
 an effort in which she only succeeded indifferent- 
 ly well. “ All this is silly. What is done is done, 
 and it cannot be mended by complaints. But the 
 Indians think so little of the shedding of blood, 
 and value men so much for the boldness of their 
 undertakings, that, did they know the business on 
 which their prisoners came, they would be more 
 likely to honor than to injure them for it.” 
 
 “ For a time, Judith ; yes, I allow that, for a 
 time. But, when the feelin’ dies away, then will 
 come the love of revenge. We must indivour, 
 Chingachgook and I, we must indivour to see 
 what we can do to get Hurry and your father free ; 
 for the Mingoes will, no doubt, hover about this 
 lake some days, in order to make the most of 
 their success.” 
 
 “ You think this Delaware can be depended 
 on, Deerslayer ? ” demanded the girl, thoughtfully. 
 
 “As much as I can myself. You say you do 
 not suspect me, Judith ? ” 
 
 “ You ! ” taking his hand again, and pressing 
 it between her own, with a warmth that might 
 have awakened the vanity of one less simple- 
 minded, and more disposed to dwell on his own 
 good qualities, “I would as soon suspect a broth- 
 er ! I have known you but a day, Deerslayer, 
 but it has awakened the confidence of a year. 
 Your name, however, is not unknown to me ; for 
 the gallants of the garrison frequently speak of the 
 lessons you have given them in hunting, and all 
 proclaim your honesty.” 
 
 “ Do they ever talk of the shooting, gal ? ” in- 
 quired the other eagerly, after, however, laughing 
 in a silent but heart-felt manner. “ Do they ever 
 talk of the shooting ? I want to hear nothing 
 about my own, for if that isn’t sartified to by this 
 time, in all these parts, there’s little use in being 
 skilful and sure ; but what do the officers say of 
 their own — yes, what do they say of their own ? 
 Arms, as they call it, is their trade, and yet there’s 
 some among ’em that know very little how to use 
 ’em ! ” 
 
 “ Such I hope will not be the case with your 
 friend Chingachgook, as you call him — what is the 
 English of his Indian name ? ” 
 
 “ Big Sarpent — so called for his wisdom and 
 cunning. Uncas is his ra’al name — all his family 
 being called Uncas, until they get a title that has 
 been ’araed by deeds.” 
 
 “ If he has all this wisdom, we may expect a 
 useful friend in him, unless his own business in 
 this part of the country should prevent him from 
 serving us.” 
 
60 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “ I see no great harm in telling you his ar’n’d, 
 a’ ter all, and, as you may find means to help us, I 
 will let you and Hetty into the whole matter, trust- 
 ing that you’ll keep the secret as if it was your 
 own. You must know that Chingachgook is a 
 comely Injin, and is much looked upon and ad- 
 mired by the young women of his tribe, both on 
 account of his family, and on account of himself. 
 Now, there is a chief that has a daughter called 
 Wah-ta !-Wah, which is intarpreted into Hist-oh !- 
 Hist, in the English tongue, the rarest gal among 
 the Delawares, and the one most sought a’ter and 
 craved for a wife by all the young warriors of the 
 nation. Well, Chingachgook, among others, took 
 a fancy to Wah-ta !-Wah, and Wah-ta !-Wah took 
 a fancy to him.” Here Deerslayer paused an in- 
 stant ; for, as he got thus far in his tale, Hetty 
 Hutter arose, approached, and stood attentive at 
 his knee, as a child draws near to listen to the le- 
 gends of its mother. “ Yes, he fancied her , and 
 she fancied /tim,” resumed Deerslayer, casting a 
 friendly and approving glance at the innocent and 
 interested girl ; “ and when that is the case, and 
 all the elders are agreed, it does not often happen 
 that the young couple keep apart. Chingachgook 
 couldn’t well carry off such a prize without 
 making inimies among them that wanted her as 
 much as he did himself. A sartain Briarthom, as 
 we call him in English, or Yocommon, as he is 
 tanned in Injin, took it most to heart, and we 
 mistrust him of having a hand in all that followed. 
 Wah-ta !-Wah went with her father and mother 
 two moons ago to fish for salmon on the western 
 streams, where it is agreed by all in these parts 
 that fish most abounds, and while thus empl’y’d 
 the gal vanished. For several weeks we could 
 get no tidings of her ; but here, ten days since, a 
 runner that came through the Delaware country, 
 brought us a message, by which we l’arn that 
 Wah-ta !-Wah was stolen from her people— we 
 think, but do not know it, by Briarthorn’s sar- 
 cumventions — and that she was now with the in- 
 imy, who had adopted her, and wanted her to 
 marry a young Mingo. The message said that the 
 party intended to hunt and forage through this 
 region for a month or two, afore it went back into 
 the Canadas, and that if we could contrive to get 
 on a scent in this quarter, something might turn 
 up that would lead to our getting the maiden 
 off.” 
 
 “And how does that concern you , Deer- 
 slayer?” demanded Judith, a little anxiously. 
 
 “It consarns me, as all things that touches a 
 fri’nd consarns a fri’nd. I’m here as Chingach- 
 gook’s aid and helper, and if we can get the young 
 maiden he likes back ag’in, it will give me almost 
 
 as much pleasure as if I had got back my own 
 sweetheart.” 
 
 “ And where, then, is your sweetheart, Deer- 
 slayer ? ” 
 
 “She’s in the forest, Judith — hanging frcsa 
 the boughs of the trees, in a soft rain — in the dew 
 on the open grass — the clouds that float about in 
 the blue heavens — the birds that sing in the 
 woods — the sweet springs where I slake my thirst 
 — and in all the other glorious gifts that come 
 from God’s providence ! ” 
 
 “You mean that, as yet, you’ve never loved 
 one of my sex, but love best your haunts and 
 your own manner of life ? ” 
 
 “ That’s it — that’s just it. I am white — have 
 a white heart, and can’t, in reason, love a red- 
 skinned maiden, who must have a red-skin heart 
 and feelin’s. No, no, I’m sound enough in them 
 partic’lars, and hope to remain so, at least till 
 this war is over. I find my time too much taken 
 up with Chingachgook’s affairs to wish to have 
 one of my own on my hands afore that is settled.” 
 
 “The girl that finally wins you, Deerslayer, 
 will at least win an honest heart — one without 
 treachery or guile; and that will be a victory 
 that most of her sex ought to envy.” 
 
 As Judith uttered this, her beautiful face had 
 a resentful frown on it ; while a bitter smile 
 lingered around a mouth that no derangement of 
 the muscles could render any thing but hand- 
 some. Her companion observed the change, and 
 though little skilled in the workings of the fe- 
 male heart, he had sufficient native delicacy to 
 understand that it might be well to drop the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 As the hour when Chingachgook was ex- 
 pected still remained distant, Deerslayer had time 
 enough to examine into the state of the defences, 
 and to make such additional arrangements as 
 were in his power, and the exigency of the mo- 
 ment seemed to require. The experience and 
 foresight of Hutter had left little to be done in 
 these particulars ; still, several precautions sug- 
 gested themselves to the young man, who may be 
 said to have studied the art of frontier warfare 
 through the traditions and legends of the people 
 among whom he had so long lived. The distance 
 between the castle and the nearest point on the 
 shore prevented any apprehension on the sub- 
 ject of rifle-bullets thrown from the land. The 
 house was within musket-shot in one sense, it 
 was true, but aim was entirely out of the ques- 
 tion, and even Judith professed a perfect disre- 
 gard of any danger from that source. So long, 
 then, as the party remained in possession of the 
 fortress they were safe, unless their assailants 
 
PREPARATIONS TO MEET CHINGACHGOOK. 
 
 61 
 
 could find the means to come off and carry it by 
 fire or storm ; or by some of the devices of In- 
 dian cunning and Indian treachery. Against the 
 first source of danger Hutter had made ample 
 provision, and the building itself, the bark roof 
 excepted, was not very combustible. The floor 
 was scuttled in several places, and buckets pro- 
 vided with ropes were in daily use, in readiness 
 for any such emergency. One of the girls could 
 easily extinguish any fire that might be lighted, 
 provided it had not time to make much headway. 
 Judith, who appeared to understand all her fa- 
 ther’s schemes of defence, and who had the spirit 
 to take no unimportant share in the execution of 
 them, explained all these details to the young 
 man, who was thus saved much time and labor in 
 making his investigations. 
 
 Little was to be apprehended during the day. 
 In possession of the canoes and of the ark, no 
 other vessel was to be found on the lake. Never- 
 theless, Deerslayer well knew that a raft was soon 
 made, and, as dead trees were to be found in 
 abundance near the water, did the savages seri- 
 ously contemplate the risk of an assault, it would 
 not be a very difficult matter to find the neces- 
 sary means. The celebrated American axe, a 
 tool that is quite unrivalled in its way, was then 
 not very extensively known, and the savages 
 were far from expert in the use of its hatchet- 
 like substitute ; still they had sufficient practice in 
 crossing streams by this mode to render it certain 
 they would construct a raft should they deem it 
 expedient to expose themselves to the risks of an 
 assault. The death of their warrior might prove 
 a sufficient incentive, or might act as a caution ; 
 but Deerslayer thought it more than possible that 
 the succeeding night would bring matters to a 
 crisis, and in this precise way. This impression 
 caused him to wish ardently for the presence and 
 succor of his Mohican friend, and to look forward 
 to the approach of sunset with an increasing anx- 
 iety. 
 
 As the day advanced, the party in the castle 
 matured their plans and made their preparations. 
 Judith was active, and seemed to find pleasure in 
 consulting and advising with her new acquaint- 
 ance, whose indifference to danger, manly devo- 
 tion to herself and sister, guilelessness of manner, 
 and truth of feeling, had won rapidly on both her 
 imagination and her affections. Although the 
 hours appeared long in some respects to Deer- 
 slayer, Judith did not find them so, and, when 
 the sun began to descend toward the pine-clad 
 summits of the western hills, she felt and ex- 
 pressed her surprise that the day should so soon 
 be drawing to a close. On the other hand, Hetty 
 
 was moody and silent. She was never loqua- 
 cious, or, if she occasionally became communica- 
 tive, it was under the influence of some temporary 
 excitement that served to arouse her unsophisti- 
 cated mind ; but, for hours at a time, in the 
 course of this all-important day, she seemed to 
 have absolutely lost the use of her tongue. Nor 
 did apprehension on account of her father ma- 
 terially affect the manner of either sister. Neither 
 appeared seriously to dread any evil greater than 
 captivity, and once or twice, when Hetty did 
 speak, she intimated the expectation that Hutter 
 would find the means to liberate himself. Al- 
 though Judith was less sanguine on this head, 
 she too betrayed the hope that propositions for a 
 ransom would come when the Indians discovered 
 that the castle set their expedients and artifices 
 at defiance. Deerslayer, however, treated these 
 passing suggestions as the ill-digested fancies of 
 girls, making his own arrangements as steadily, 
 and brooding over the future as seriously, as if 
 they had never fallen from their lips. 
 
 At length the hour arrived when it became 
 necessary to proceed to the place of rendezvous 
 appointed with the Mohican, or Delaware, as 
 Chingachgook was more commonly called. As 
 the plan had been matured by Deerslayer, and 
 fully communicated to his companions, all three 
 set about its execution in concert, and intelligent- 
 ly. Hetty passed into the ark, and, fastening 
 two of the canoes together, she entered one and 
 paddled up to a sort of gate-way in the pali- 
 sadoes that surrounded the building, through 
 which she carried both ; securing them beneath 
 the house by chains that were fastened within the 
 building. These palifiadoes were trunks of trees 
 driven firmly into the mud, and served the double 
 purpose of a small enclosure that was intended to 
 be used in this very manner, and to keep any 
 enemy that might approach in boats at arm’s- 
 length. Canoes thus docked were, in a measure, 
 hid from sight, and, as the gate was properly 
 barred and fastened, it would not be an easy task 
 to remove them, even in the event of their being 
 seen. Previously, however, to closing the gate, 
 Judith also entered within the enclosure with the 
 third canoe, leaving Deerslayer busy in securing 
 the door and windows inside the building ovei 
 her head. As every thing was massive and 
 strong, and small saplings were used as bars, it 
 would have been the work of an hour or two to 
 break into the building when Deerslayer had 
 ended his task, even allowing the assailants the 
 use of any tools but the axe, and to be unresist 
 ed. This attention to security arose from Hut 
 ter’s having been robbed once or twice by the 
 
62 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 lawless whites of the frontiers during some of his 
 many absences from home. 
 
 As soon as all was fast in the inside of the 
 dwelling, Deerslayer appeared at a trap, from 
 which he descended into the canoe of Judith. 
 When this was done, he fastened the door with a 
 massive staple and stout padlock. Hetty was 
 then received in the canoe, which was shoved 
 outside of the palisadoes. The next precaution 
 was to fasten the gate, and the keys were carried 
 into the ark. The three were now fastened out 
 of the dwelling, which could only be entered by 
 violence, or by following the course taken by the 
 young man in quitting it. 
 
 The glass had been brought outside as a pre- 
 liminary step, and Deerslayer next took a care- 
 ful survey of the entire shore of the lake as far 
 as his own position would allow. Not a living 
 thing was visible, a few birds excepted, and even 
 the last fluttered about in the shades of the trees, 
 as if unwilling to encounter the heat of a sultry 
 afternoon. All the nearest points, in particular, 
 were subjected to severe scrutiny, in order to 
 make certain that no raft was in preparation; 
 the result everywhere giving the same picture of 
 calm solitude. A few words will explain the 
 greatest embarrassment belonging to the situation 
 of our party. Exposed themselves to the obser- 
 vation of any watchful eyes, the movements of 
 their enemies were concealed by the drapery of a 
 dense forest. While the imagination would be 
 very apt to people the latter with more warriors 
 than it really contained, their own weakness must 
 be too apparent to all who might chance to cast 
 a glance in their direction. 
 
 “ Nothing is stirring, howsever,” exclaimed 
 Deerslayer, as he finally lowered the glass, and 
 prepared to enter the ark ; “ if the vagabonds do 
 harbor mischief in their minds, they are too cun- 
 ning to let it be seen ; it’s true, a raft may be in 
 preparation in the woods, but it has not yet been 
 brought down to the lake. They can’t guess that 
 we are about to quit the castle, and, if they did, 
 they’ve no means of knowing where we intend to 
 -go.” 
 
 “ This is so true, Deerslayer,” returned Ju- 
 dith, “ that now all is ready, we may proceed, at 
 once, boldly, and without the fear of being fol- 
 lowed — else we shall be behind our time.” 
 
 “No— no — the matter needs management — 
 for, though the savages are in the dark as to 
 Chingachgook and the rock, they’ve eyes and 
 legs, and will see in what direction we steer, and 
 will be sartain to follow us. I shall strive to 
 baffle ’em, hows’ever, by heading the scow in all 
 manner of ways, first in one quarter and then in 
 
 another, until they get to be a-leg-weary, and 
 tired of tramping a’ter us.” 
 
 So far as it was in his power, Deerslayer was 
 as good as his word. In less than five minutes 
 after this speech was made, the whole party was 
 in the ark, and in motion. There was a gentle 
 breeze from the north, and boldly hoisting the 
 sail, the young man laid the head of the unwieldy 
 craft in such a direction, as, after making a lib- 
 eral but necessary allowance for leeway, would 
 have brought it ashore a couple of miles down 
 the lake, and on its eastern side. The sailing of 
 the ark was never very swift, though, floating as 
 it did on the surface, it was not difficult to get it 
 in motion, or to urge it along over the water at 
 the rate of some three or four miles in the hour. 
 The distance between the castle and the rock 
 was a little more than two leagues. Knowing the 
 punctuality of an Indian, Deerslayer had made 
 his calculations closely, and had given himself a 
 little more time than was necessary to reach the 
 place of rendezvous, with a view to delay or press 
 his arrival, as might prove most expedient. When 
 he hoisted the sail, the sun lay above the western 
 hills, at an elevation that promised rather more 
 than two hours of day ; and a few minutes satis- 
 fied him that the progress of the scow was such 
 as to equal his expectations. 
 
 It was a glorious June afternoon, and never 
 did that solitary sheet of water seem less like an 
 arena of strife and bloodshed. The light air 
 scarce descended as low as the bed of the lake, 
 hovering over it, as if unwilling to disturb its deep 
 tranquillity, or to ruffle its mirror-like surface. 
 Even the forests appeared to be slumbering in the 
 sun, and a few piles of fleecy clouds had lain for 
 hours along the northern horizon like fixtures in 
 the atmosphere, placed there purely to embellish 
 the sceue. A few aquatic fowls occasionally 
 skimmed along the water, and a single raven was 
 visible, sailing high above the trees, and keeping 
 a watchful eye on the forest beneath him, in or- 
 der to detect any thing having life that the mys- 
 terious woods might offer as prey. 
 
 The reader will probably have observed that, 
 amid the frankness and abruptness of mannei 
 which marked the frontier habits of Judith, hei 
 language was superior to that used by her male 
 companions, her own father included. This dif 
 ference extended as well to pronunciation as t« 
 the choice of words and phrases. Perhaps nothing 
 so soon betrays the education and association aa 
 the modes of speech ; and few accomplishments 
 so much aid the charm of female beauty as a 
 graceful and even utterance, while nothing so 
 soon produces the disenchantment that necessa. 
 
THE PLACE OF RENDEZVOUS. 
 
 63 
 
 rily follows a discrepancy between appearance 
 and manner, as a mean intonation of voice, or a 
 vulgar use of words. Judith and her sister were 
 marked exceptions to all the girls of their class, 
 along that whole frontier; the officers of the 
 nearest garrison having often flattered the former 
 with the belief that few ladies of the towns ac- 
 quitted themselves better than herself, in thi3 im- 
 portant particular. This was far from being lit- 
 erally true, but it was sufficiently near the fact to 
 give birth to the compliment. The girls were in- 
 debted to their mother for this proficiency, having 
 acquired from her, in childhood, an advantage 
 that no subsequent study or labor can give with- 
 out a drawback, if neglected beyond the earlier 
 periods of life. Who that mother was, or rather 
 had been, no one but Hutter knew. She had 
 now been dead two summers, and, as was stated 
 by Hurry, she had been buried in the lake ; 
 whether in indulgence of a prejudice, or from a 
 reluctance to take the trouble to dig her grave, 
 had frequently been a matter of discussion be- 
 tween the rude beings of that region. Judith 
 had never visited the spot, but Hetty was present 
 at the interment, and she often paddled a canoe, 
 about sunset, or by the light of the moon, to the 
 place, and gaze down into the limpid water, in the 
 hope of being able to catch a glimpse of a form 
 that she had so tenderly loved from infancy to 
 the sad hour of their parting. 
 
 “ Must we reach the rock exactly at the mo- 
 ment the sun sets ? ” Judith demanded of the 
 young man, as they stood near each other, Deer- 
 slayer holding the steering-oar, and she working 
 with a needle at some ornament of dress, that 
 much exceeded her station in life, and was alto- 
 gether a novelty in the woods. “ Will a few 
 minutes, sooner or later, alter the matter ? It will 
 be very hazardous to remain long as near the 
 shore as that rock.” 
 
 “ That’s it, Judith ; that’s the very difficulty ! 
 The rock’s within p’int blank for a shot-gun, and 
 ’twill never do to hover about it too close and too 
 long. When you have to deal with an Injin, you 
 must calculate and manage, for a red natur’ dear- 
 ly likes sarcumvention. Now you see, Judith, 
 that I do not steer toward the rock at all, but 
 here to the eastward of it, whereby the savages 
 will be tramping off in that direction, and get 
 their legs a-wearied, and all for no advantage.” 
 
 “ You think, then, they see us, and watch our 
 movements, Deerslayer ? I was in hopes they 
 might have fallen back into the woods, and left 
 us to ourselves for a few hours.” 
 
 u That’s altogether a woman’s consait. There’s 
 do let-up In an Injin’s watchfulness when he’s on 
 
 a war-path ; and eyes are on U3 at this minute, 
 though the lake presarves us. We must draw 
 near the rock on a calculation, and indivor to get 
 the miscreants on a false scent. The Mingoes 
 have good noses, they tell me ; but a white 
 man’s reason ought always to equalize their in- 
 stinct.” 
 
 Judith now entered into a desultory discourse 
 with Deerslayer, in which the girl betrayed her 
 growing interest in the young man ; an interest 
 that his simplicity of mind and her decision of 
 character, sustained as it was by the conscious- 
 ness awakened by the consideration her personal 
 charms so universally produced, rendered her 
 less anxious to conceal than might otherwise have 
 been the case. She was scarcely forward in her 
 manner, though there was sometimes a freedom 
 in her glances that it required all the aid of her 
 exceeding beauty to prevent from awakening sus- 
 picions unfavorable to her discretion, if not to 
 her morals. With Deerslayer, however, these 
 glances were rendered less obnoxious to so un- 
 pleasant a construction ; for she seldom looked 
 at him, without discovering much of the sincerity 
 and nature that accompany the purest emotions 
 of woman. It was a little remarkable that, as 
 his captivity lengthened, neither of the girls 
 manifested any great concern for her father; 
 but, as has been said already, their habits gave 
 them confidence, and they looked forward to hi? 
 liberation, by means of a ransom, with a con- 
 fidence that might, in a great degree, account for 
 their apparent indifference. Once before, Hutter 
 had been in the hands of the Iroquois, and a few 
 skins had readily effected his release. This 
 event, however, unknown to the sisters, had oc- 
 curred in a time of peace between England and 
 France, and when the savages were restrained, 
 instead of being encouraged to commit their ex- 
 cesses, by the policy of the different colonial 
 governments. 
 
 While Judith was loquacious and caressing in 
 her manner, Hetty remained thoughtful and si- 
 lent. Once, indeed, she drew near to Deerslayer, 
 and questioned him a little closely as to his in- 
 tentions, as well as concerning the mode of effect- 
 ing his purpose ; but her wish to converse went 
 no further. As soon as her simple queries were 
 answered — and answered they all were in the 
 fullest and kindest manner — she withdrew to her 
 seat, and continued to work on a coarse garment 
 that she was making for her father, sometimes 
 humming a low, melancholy air, and frequently 
 sighing. 
 
 In this manner the time passed away; and 
 when the sun was beginning to glow behind the 
 
64 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 fringe of pines that bounded the western hill, or 
 about twenty minutes before it actually set, the 
 ark was nearly as low as the point where Hutter 
 and Hurry had been made prisoners. By sheer- 
 ing first to one side of the lake, and then to the 
 other, Deerslayer managed to create an uncertain- 
 ty as to his object ; and, doubtless, the savages, 
 who were unquestionably watching his move- 
 ments, were led to believe that his aim was to 
 communicate with them, at or near this spot, and 
 would hasten in that direction, in order to be in 
 readiness to profit by circumstances. This arti- 
 fice was well managed; since the sweep of the 
 bay, the curvature of the lake, and the low, 
 marshy land that intervened, would probably 
 allow the ark to reach the rock before its pursu- 
 ers, if really collected near the point, could have 
 time to make the circuit that would be required 
 to get there by land. With a view to aid this de- 
 ception, Deerslayer stood as near the western 
 shore as was at all prudent ; and then causing 
 Judith and Hetty to enter the house, or cabin, 
 and crouching himself so as to conceal his person 
 by the frame of the scow, he suddenly threw the 
 head of the latter round, and began to make the 
 best of his way toward the outlet. Favored by 
 an increase in the wind, the progress of the ark 
 was such as to promise the complete success of 
 this plan, though the crab-like movement of the 
 craft compelled the helmsman to keep its head 
 looking in a direction very different from that in 
 which it was actually moving. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 “ Yet art thou prodigal of smiles— 
 
 Smiles sweeter than thy frowns are stern : 
 
 Earth sends from all her thousand isles, 
 
 A shout at thy return. 
 
 The glory that comes down from thee 
 Bathes, in deep joy, the land and sea.” 
 
 The Skies. 
 
 It may assist the reader in understanding the 
 events we are about to record, if he has a rapidly- 
 sketched picture of the scene, placed before his 
 eyes at a single view. It will be remembered that 
 the lake was an irregularly-shaped basin, of an 
 outline that, in the main, was oval, but with bays 
 and points to relieve its formality and ornament I 
 its shores. The surface of this beautiful sheet of 
 water was now glittering like a gem, in the last 
 rays of the evening sun, and the setting of the 
 whole — hills clothed in the richest forest verdure 
 — was lighted up with a sort of radiant smile that 
 Is beat described in the beautiful lines we have 
 
 placed at the head of this chapter. As the banka, 
 with few exceptions, rose abruptly from the water, 
 even where the mountain did not immediately 
 bound the view, there was a nearly unbroken 
 fringe of leaves overhanging the placid lake — the 
 trees starting out of the acclivities, inclining to 
 the light, until in many instances they extended 
 their long limbs and straight trunks some forty or 
 fifty feet beyond the line of the perpendicular. 
 In these cases we allude only to the giants of the 
 forest — pines of a hundred or a hundred and fifty 
 feet in height — for, of the smaller growth, very 
 many inclined so far as to steep their lower 
 branches in the water. 
 
 In the position in which the ark had now got, 
 the castle was concealed from view by the pro- 
 jection of a point, as indeed was the northern ex- 
 tremity of the lake itself. A respectable moun- 
 tain, forest-clad, and rounded like all the rest, 
 limited the view in that direction, stretching im- 
 mediately across the whole of the fair scene, with 
 the exception of a deep bay that passed its west- 
 ern end, lengthening the basin for more than a 
 mile. The manner in which the water flowed out 
 of the lake, beneath the leafy arches of the trees 
 that lined the sides of the stream, has already 
 been mentioned, and it has also been said that the 
 rock, which was a favorite place of rendezvous 
 throughout all that region, and where Deerslayer 
 now expected to meet his friend, stood near this 
 outlet, and at no great distance from the shore. 
 It was a large isolated stone that rested on the 
 bottom of the lake, apparently left there when the 
 waters tore away the earth from around it, in 
 forcing for themselves a passage down the river, 
 and which had obtained its shape from the action 
 of the elements, during the slow progress of centu- 
 ries. The height of this rock could scarcely equal 
 six feet, and, as has been said, its shape was not 
 unlike that which is usually given to beehives or 
 to a hay-cock. The latter, indeed, gives the best 
 idea not only of its form but of its dimensions. 
 It stood, and still stands — for we are writing of 
 real scenes — within fifty feet of the bank, and in 
 water that was only two feet in depth, though 
 there were seasons in which its rounded apex, if 
 such a term can properly be used, was covered 
 by the lake. Many of the trees stretched so far 
 forward as almost to blend the rock with the 
 I shore, when seen from a little distance ; and one 
 tall pine in particular overhung it in a way to 
 form a noble and appropriate canopy to a seat 
 that had held many a forest chieftain, during the 
 long succession of unknown ages, in which Amer- 
 ica and all it contained existed apart, in myste- 
 rious solitude, a world by itself ; equally without 
 
A NARROW ESCAPE. 
 
 65 
 
 t familiar history, and without an origin that the 
 annals of man can reach. 
 
 When distant some two or three hundred feet 
 from the shore, Deerslayer took in his sail, and 
 he dropped his grapnel, as soon as he found the 
 ark had drifted in a line that was directly to 
 windward of the rock. The motion of the scow 
 was then checked, when it was brought head to 
 wind by the action of the breeze. As soon as 
 this was done, Deerslayer “ paid out line,” and 
 suffered the vessel to “ set down ” upon the rock, 
 as fast as the light air would force it to leeward. 
 Floating entirely on the surface, this was soon 
 effected, and the young man checked the drift 
 when he was told that the stern of the scow was 
 within fifteen or eighteen feet of the desired 
 spot. 
 
 In executing this manoeuvre, Deerslayer had 
 proceeded promptly ; for while he did not in the 
 least doubt that he was both watched and fol- 
 lowed by the foe, he believed he had distracted 
 their movements by the apparent uncertainty of 
 his own, and he knew they could have no means 
 of ascertaining that the rock was his aim, unless, 
 indeed, one of the prisoners had betrayed him; a 
 chance so improbable in itself as to give him no 
 concern. Notwithstanding the celerity and de- 
 cision of his movements, he did not, however, 
 venture so near the shore without taking due pre- 
 cautions to effect a retreat, in the event of its be- 
 coming necessary. He held the line in his hand, 
 and Judith was stationed at a loop on the side of 
 the cabin next the shore, where she could watch 
 the beach and the rocks, and give timely notice 
 of the approach of either friend or foe. Hetty 
 was also placed on watch, but it was to keep the 
 trees overhead in view, lest some enemy might 
 ascend one, and, by completely commanding the 
 interior of the scow, render the defences of the 
 hut or cabin useless. 
 
 The sun had disappeared from the lake and 
 valley when Deerslayer checked the ark in the 
 manner mentioned. Still it wanted a few minutes 
 to the true sunset, and he knew Indian punctu- 
 ality too well to anticipate any unmanly haste in 
 his friend. The great question was, whether, 
 currounded by enemies as he was known to be, 
 he had escaped their toils. The occurrences of 
 the last twenty-four hours must be a secret to 
 him, and, like himself, Chingachgook was yet 
 young on a war-path. It was true, he came pre- 
 pared to encounter the party that withheld his 
 promised bride, but he had no means of ascertain- 
 ing the extent of the danger he ran, or the precise 
 positions occupied by either friends or foes. In 
 a word, the trained sagacity and untiring caution 
 5 
 
 of an Indian were all he had to rely on, amid the 
 critical risks he unavoidably ran. 
 
 “ Is the rock empty, Judith ? ” inquired Deer- 
 slayer, as soon as he had checked the drift of the 
 ark, deeming it imprudent to venture unneces- 
 sarily near the shore. “ Is any thing to be seen 
 of the Delaware chief? ” 
 
 “Nothing, Deerslayer. Neither rock, shore, 
 tree, nor lake, seems to have ever held a human 
 form.” 
 
 “ Keep close, Judith — keep close, Hetty — a 
 rifle has a prying eye, a nimble foot, and a des- 
 perate fatal tongue. Keep close, then, but keep 
 up active looks, and be on the alart. ’Twould 
 grieve me to the heart did any harm befall either 
 of you.” 
 
 “ And you, Deerslayer I ” exclaimed Judith, 
 turning her handsome face from the loop, to be- 
 stow a gracious and grateful look on the young 
 man ; “ do you ‘ keep close,’ and have a proper 
 care that the savages do not catch a glimpse of 
 you ! A bullet might be as fatal to you as to one 
 of us ; and the blow that you felt would be felt 
 by all.” 
 
 “ No fear of me, Judith — no fear of me, my 
 good gal. Do not look this-a-wav, although you 
 look so pleasant and comely, but keep your eyes 
 on the rock, and the shore, and the — ” 
 
 Deerslayer was interrupted by a slight excla- 
 mation from the girl, who, in obedience to his 
 hurried gestures, as much as in obedience to his 
 words, had immediately bent her looks again in 
 the opposite direction. 
 
 “ What is’t ? — what is’t, Judith ? ” he hastily 
 demanded. “ Is any thing to be seen ? ” 
 
 “ There is a man on the rock 1 — an Indian 
 warrior in his paint, and armed ! ” 
 
 “ Where does he wear his hawk’s feather ? ” 
 eagerly added Deerslayer, relaxing his hold of the 
 line, in readiness to drift nearer to the place of 
 rendezvous. “ Is it fast to the war-lock, or does 
 he carry it above the left ear? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis as you say, above the left ear ; he 
 smiles, too, and mutters the word ‘ Mohican.’ ” 
 
 “ God be praised, ’tis the Sarpent at last ! ” 
 exclaimed the young man, suffering the line to slip 
 through his hands, until, hearing a light bound in 
 the other end of the craft, he instantly checked 
 the rope, and began to haul it in again, under 
 the assurance that his object was effected. 
 
 At that moment the door of the cabin was 
 opened hastily, and a warrior, darting through 
 the little room, stood at Deerslayer’s side, simply 
 uttering the exclamation “ Hugh ! ” At the next 
 instant Judith and Hetty shrieked, and the air 
 was filled with the yell of twenty savages, who 
 
66 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 same leaping through the branches down the 
 bank, some actually falling headlong into the wa- 
 ter in their haste. 
 
 “ Pull, Deerslayer,” cried Judith, hastily bar- 
 ring the door, in order to prevent an inroad by 
 the passage through which the Delaware had just 
 entered ; “ pull for life and death — the lake is 
 full of savages wading after us ! ” 
 
 The young men — for Chingachgook immedi- 
 ately came to his friend’s assistance — needed no 
 second bidding, but they applied themselves to 
 their task in a way that showed how urgent they 
 deemed the occasion. The great difficulty was 
 in suddenly overcoming the vis ineriice of so large 
 a mass ; for, once in motion, it was easy to cause 
 the scow to skim the water with all the necessary 
 speed. 
 
 “ Pull, Deerslayer, for Heaven’s sake ! ” cried 
 Judith again at the loop. “ These wretches rush 
 into the water like hounds following their prey ! 
 Ah ! — the scow moves ! and now the water deep- 
 ens to the arm-pits of the foremost; still they 
 rush forward, and will seize the ark l ” 
 
 A slight scream, and then a joyous laugh fol- 
 lowed from the girl ; the first produced by a des- 
 perate effort of their pursuers, and the last by its 
 failure ; the scow, which had now got fairly in 
 motion, gliding ahead into deep water with a 
 velocity that set the designs of their enemies at 
 naught. As the two men were prevented by the 
 position of the cabin from seeing what passed 
 astern, they were compelled to inquire of the 
 girls into the state of the chase. 
 
 “ What now, Judith ? — what next ? Do the 
 Mingoes still follow, or are we quit of ’em for 
 the present ? ” demanded Deerslayer, when he 
 felt the rope yielding, as if the scow was going 
 fast ahead, and heard the scream and the laugh 
 of the girl almost in the same breath. 
 
 “ They have vanished 1 — one, the last, is just 
 burying himself in the bushes of the bank — 
 there, he has disappeared in the shadows of the 
 trees ! You have got your friend, and we are all 
 safe ! ” 
 
 The two men now made another great effort, 
 pulled the ark up swiftly to the grapnel, tripped 
 it, and when the scow had shot some distance, 
 and lost its way, they let the anchor drop again ; 
 then, for the first time since their meeting, they 
 ceased their efforts. As the floating house now 
 _ay several hundred feet from the shore, and of- 
 fered a complete protection against bullets, there 
 was no longer any danger, or any motive for im- 
 mediate exertion. 
 
 The manner in which the two friends now 
 recognized each other was 'highly characteristic. 
 
 Chingachgook, a noble, tall, handsome, and ath 
 letic young Indian warrior, first examined his rifle 
 with care, opening the pan to make sure the 
 priming was not wet ; and, assured of this impor- 
 tant fact, he next cast furtive but obseirai^ 
 glances around him at the strange habitation and 
 at the-two girls ; still he spoke not, and most of 
 all did he avoid the betrayal of a womanish curi- 
 osity by asking questions. 
 
 “ Judith and Hetty,” said Deerslayer, with an 
 untaught, natural courtesy, “ this is the Mohican 
 chief of whom you’ve heard me speak ; Chin- 
 gachgook, as he is called, which signifies the Big 
 Sarpent ; so named for his wisdom, and prudence, 
 and cunning; my ’arliest and latest friend. I 
 know’d it must be he, by the hawk’s feather over 
 the left ear, most other warriors wearing ’em on 
 the war-lock.” 
 
 As Deerslayer ceased speaking, he laughed 
 heartily, excited more perhaps by the delight of 
 having got his friend safe at his side, under cir- 
 cumstances so trying, than by any conceit that 
 happened to cross his fancy, and exhibiting this 
 outbreaking of feeling in a manner that was a 
 little remarkable, since his merriment was not 
 accompanied by any noise. Although Chingach- 
 gook both understood and spoke English, he was 
 unwilling to communicate his thoughts in it, like 
 most Indians ; and when he had met Judith’s 
 cordial shake of the hand, and Hetty’s milder 
 salute, in the courteous manner that became a 
 chief, he turned away, apparently to await the 
 moment when it might suit his friend to enter 
 into an explanation of his future intentions, and 
 to give a narrative of what had passed since their 
 separation. The other understood his meaning, 
 and discovered his own mode of reasoning in the 
 matter by addressing the girls. 
 
 “This wind will soon die away altogether, 
 now the sun is down,” he said, “ and there is no 
 need of rowing ag’in it. In half an hour or so, 
 it will either be a flat calm or the air will come 
 off from the south shore, when we will begin our 
 journey back ag’in to the castle ; in the mean 
 while, the Delaware and I will talk over matters, 
 and get correct idees of each other’s notions 
 consarning the course we ought to take.” 
 
 No one opposed this proposition, and the 
 girls withdrew into the cabin to prepare the even- 
 ing meal, while the two young men took their 
 seats on the head of the scow, and began to con- 
 verse. The dialogue was in the language of the 
 Delawares. As that dialect, however, is but lit- 
 tle understood, even by the learned, we shall, not 
 only on this but on all subsequent occasions, ren- 
 der such parts as it may be necessary to give 
 
NEWS OF THE CAPTIVES. 
 
 67 
 
 closely into liberal English ; preserving, as far as 
 possible, the idioms and peculiarities of the re- 
 spective speakers, by way of presenting the pic- 
 tures in the most graphic forms to the minds of 
 the readers. 
 
 It is unnecessary to enter into the details first 
 related by Deerslayer, who gave a brief narrative 
 of the facts that are already familiar to those who 
 have read our pages. In relating these events, 
 however, it may be well to say that the speaker 
 touched only on the outlines, more particularly 
 abstaining from saying any thing about his en- 
 counter with and victory over the Iroquois, as 
 well as his own exertions in behalf of the deserted 
 young women. When Deerslayer ended, the 
 Delaware took up the narrative in turn, speaking 
 sententiously, and with great dignity. His ac- 
 count was both clear and short, nor was it em- 
 bellished by any incidents that did not directly 
 concern the history of his departure from the 
 villages of his people, and his arrival in the val- 
 ley of the Susquehanna. On reaching the latter, 
 which was at a point only half a mile south of the 
 outlet, he had soon struck a trail, which gave him 
 notice of the probable vicinity of enemies. Being 
 prepared for such an occurrence, the object of 
 the expedition calling him directly into the neigh- 
 borhood of the party of Iroquois that was known 
 to be out, he considered the discovery as fortu- 
 nate, rather than the reverse, and took the usual 
 precautions to turn it to account. First following 
 the river to its source, and ascertaining the posi- 
 tion of the rock, he met another trail, and had 
 actually been hovering for hours on the flanks of 
 his enemies, watching equally for an opportunity 
 to meet hi3 mistress and to take a scalp ; and it 
 may be questioned which he most ardently de- 
 sired. He kept near the lake, and occasionally he 
 ventured to some spot where he could get a view 
 of what was passing on its surface. The ark had 
 been seen and watched from the moment it hove 
 in sight, though the young chief was necessarily 
 ignorant that it was to be the instrument of ef- 
 fecting the desired junction with his friend. The 
 uncertainty of its movements, and the fact that it 
 was unquestionably managed by white men, led 
 him to conjecture the truth, however, and he held 
 himself in readiness to get on board whenever a 
 suitable occasion might offer. As the sun drew 
 near the horizon, he repaired to the rock, where, 
 on emerging from the forest, he was gratified in 
 finding the ark laying apparently in readiness to 
 receive him. The manner of his appearance, and 
 of his entrance into the craft, is known. 
 
 Although Chingachgook had been closely 
 watching his enemies for hours, their sudden and 
 
 close pursuit, as he reached the scow, wa3 as 
 much a matter of surprise to himself as it had 
 been to his friend. He could only account for it 
 by the fact of their being more numerous than he 
 had at first supposed, and by their having out 
 parties, of the existence of which he was ignorant. 
 Their regular and permanent encampment, if the 
 word permanent can be applied to the residence 
 of a party that intended to remain out, in all 
 probability, but a few weeks, was not far from 
 the spot where Huttcr and Hurry had fallen into 
 their hands, and, as a matter of course, near a 
 spring. 
 
 “Well, Sarpent,” asked Deerslayer, when the 
 other had ended his brief but spirited narrative, 
 speaking always in the Delaware tongue, which, 
 for the reader’s convenience only, we render into 
 the peculiar vernacular of the speaker. 
 
 “Well, Sarpent, as you’ve been scouting 
 around these Mingoes, have you any thing to tell 
 us of their captyves ; the father of these young 
 women and another, who, I somewhat conclude, 
 is the lovyer of one of ’em.” 
 
 “ Chingachgook has seen them. An old man 
 and a young warrior — the falling hemlock and the 
 tall pine.” 
 
 “ You’re not so much out, Delaware ; you’re 
 not so much out. Old Hutter is decaying, of a 
 sartainty, though many solid blocks might be 
 hewn out of his trunk yet; and, as for Hurry 
 Harry, so far as height, and strength, and comeli- 
 ness go, he may be called the pride of the human 
 forest. Were the men bound, or in any manner 
 suffering torture ? I ask on account of the young 
 women — who, I dare say, would be glad to 
 know.” 
 
 “ It is not so, Deerslayer. The Mingoes are 
 too many to cage their game. Some watch, some 
 sleep, some scout, some hunt. The pale-faces are 
 treated like brothers to-day ; to-morrow they 
 will lose their scalps.” 
 
 “ Yes, that’s red natur’, and must be suu- 
 mitted to ! — Judith and Hetty, here’s comforting 
 tidings for you, the Delaware telling me that 
 neither your father nor Hurry Harry is in suffer- 
 ing; but, bating the loss of liberty, as well off 
 as we are ourselves. Of course they are kept in 
 the camp ; otherwise they do much as they 
 please.” 
 
 “ I rejoice to hear this, Deerslayer,” returned 
 Judith, “ and now we are joined by your friend, 
 I make no manner of question that we shall 
 find an opportunity to ransom the prisoners. If 
 there are any women in the camp, I have articles 
 of dress that will catch their eyes ; and, should 
 the worst come to the worst, we can open th« 
 
68 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 good chest, which, I think, will be found to con- 
 tain things that may tempt the chiefs.” 
 
 “ Judith,” said the young man, looking up at 
 her with a smile, and an expression of earnest 
 curiosity, that, spite of the growing obscurity, 
 did not escape the watchful looks of the girl, 
 “ can you find it in your heart to part with your 
 own finery to release prisoners ; even though one 
 be your own father, and the other is your sworn 
 suitor and lovyer? ” 
 
 The flush on the face of the girl arose in part 
 from resentment, but more perhaps from a gentler 
 and novel feeling, that, with the capricious way- 
 wardness of taste, had been rapidly rendering her 
 more sensitive to the good opinion of the youth 
 who questioned her, than to that of any other 
 person. Suppressing the angry sensation, with 
 instinctive quickness, she answered with a readi- 
 ness and truth that caused her sister to draw 
 near to listen, though the obtuse intellect of the 
 latter was far from comprehending the workings 
 of a heart as treacherous, as uncertain, and as 
 impetuous in its feelings, as that of the spoiled and 
 flattered beauty. 
 
 “ Deerslayer,” answered Judith, after a mo- 
 ment’s pause, “ I shall be honest with you. I 
 confess that the time has been when what you call 
 finery was to me the dearest thing on earth ; but 
 I begin to feel differently. Though Hurry Harry 
 is naught to me, nor ever can be, I would give all 
 I own to set him free. If I would do this for blus- 
 tering, bullying, talking Hurry, who has nothing 
 but good looks to recommend him, you may judge 
 what I would do for my own father.” 
 
 “ This sounds well, and is according to wom- 
 an’s gifts. Ah’s me ! The same feelin’s is to be 
 found among the young women of the Delawares. 
 I’ve known ’em, often and often, sacrifice their 
 vanity to their hearts. ’Tis as it should be — ’tis 
 as it should be, I suppose, in both colors. Wom- 
 an was created for the feelin's, and is pretty much 
 ruled by feelin’ ! ” 
 
 “Would the savages let father go, if Judith 
 and I gave them all our best things ? ” demanded 
 Hetty, in her innocent, mild manner. 
 
 “ Their women might interfere, good Hetty ; 
 yes, their women might interfere with such an 
 ind in view. — But, tell me, Sarpent, how is it as 
 to squaws among the knaves ; have they many of 
 their own women in the camp ? ” 
 
 The Delaware heard and understood all that 
 passed ; though with Indian gravity and finesse 
 he had sat, with averted face, seemingly inatten- 
 tive to a discourse in which he had no direct con. 
 cem. Thus appealed to, however, he answered 
 his friend in his ordinary sententious manner. 
 
 “ Six,” he said, holding up all the fingers of 
 one hand, and the thumb of the other ; “ besidei 
 this” The last number denoted his betrothed i 
 whom, with the poetry and truth of nature, he 
 described by laying his hand on his own heart. 
 
 “ Did you see her, chief — did you get a 
 glimpse of her pleasant countenance, or come close 
 enough to her ear, to sing in it the song she love3 
 to hear ? ” 
 
 “No, Deerslayer — the trees were too many 
 and leaves covered their boughs, like clouds hid- 
 ing the heavens, in a storm. But ” — and the young 
 warrior turned his face toward his friend, with a 
 smile on it that illuminated its fierce-looking paint, 
 and naturally stern lineaments, with a bright 
 gleam of human feeling — “ Chingachgook heard 
 the laugh of Wah-ta !-Wah ; he knew it from the 
 laugh of the women of the Iroquois. It sounded 
 in his ears like the chirp of the wren.” 
 
 “ Ay, trust a lovyer’s ear for that ; and a 
 Delaware’s ear for all sounds that are ever heard 
 in the woods. I know not why it is so, Judith, 
 but when young men — and I dares to say it may 
 be all the same with young women, too — but 
 when they get to have kind feelin’s toward each 
 other it’s wonderful how pleasant they laugh, or 
 the speech becomes to the other person. I’ve seen 
 grim warriors listening to the chattering and the 
 laughing of young gals as if it was church-music ; 
 such as is heard in the old Dutch church that 
 stands in the great street of Albany, where I’ve 
 been more than once, with peltry and game.” 
 
 “ And you, Deerslayer,” said Judith, quickly, 
 and with more sensibility than marked her usual- 
 ly light and thoughtless manner ; “ have you nev- 
 er felt how pleasant it is to listen to the laugh of 
 the girl you love ? ” 
 
 “ Lord bless you, gal ! — why, I’ve never lived 
 enough among my own color to drop into them 
 sort of feelin’s — no, never ! I dares to say, they 
 are nat’ral and right ; but to me there’s no music 
 so sweet as the sighing of the wind in the tree- 
 tops, and the rippling of a stream from a full 
 sparkling native fountain of pure fresh water ; 
 unless, indeed,” he continued, dropping his head 
 for an instant in a thoughtful manner — “ unless, 
 indeed, it be the open mouth of a sartain hound, 
 when I’m on the track of a fat buck. As for un 
 sartain dogs, I care little for their cries, seein 
 they are as likely to speak when the deer is not 
 in sight as when it is.” 
 
 Judith walked slowly and pensively away, nor 
 was there any of her ordinary calculating coquetry 
 in the light, tremulous sigh that, unconsciously to 
 herself, arose to her lips. On the other hand, 
 Hetty listened with guileless attention; though 
 
CHARACTER OF JUDITH AND HER FRIEND. 
 
 69 
 
 't struck her simple mind as Singular that the 
 young man should prefer the melody of the woods 
 to the songs of girls, or even to the laugh of inno- 
 cence and joy. Accustomed, however, to defer in 
 most things to her sister, she soon followed Judith 
 into the cabin, where she took a seat, and re- 
 mained pondering intensely over some occurrence, 
 or resolution, or opinion, which was a secret to all 
 but herself. Left alone, Deerslayer and his friend 
 resumed their discourse. 
 
 “ Has the young pale-face hunter been long on 
 this lake ? ” demanded the Delaware, after cour- 
 teously waiting for the other to speak first. 
 
 “ Only since yesterday noon, Sarpent ; though 
 that has been long enough to see and do much.” 
 
 The gaze that the Indian fastened on his com- 
 panion was so keen that it seemed to mock the 
 gathering darkness of the night. As the other 
 furtively returned his look, he saw the two black 
 eyes glistening on him, like the balls of the pan- 
 ther, or those of the penned wolf. He understood 
 the meaning of this glowing gaze, and answered 
 evasively, as he fancied would best become the 
 modesty of a white man’s gifts. 
 
 “ ’Tis as you suspect, Sarpent ; yes, ’tis some- 
 what that-a-way. I have fell in with the inimy, 
 and I suppose it may be said I’ve fou’t them, too.” 
 
 An exclamation of delight and exultation es- 
 caped the Indian ; and then, laying his hand ea- 
 gerly on the arm of his friend, he asked if there 
 were any scalps taken. 
 
 “ That I will maintain, in the face of all the 
 Delaware tribe, old Tamenund, and your father, 
 the great Uncas, as well as the rest, is ag’in white 
 gifts ! My scalp is on my head, as you can see, 
 Sarpent, and that was the only scalp that was in 
 danger, when one side was altogether Christian 
 and white.” 
 
 “ Did no warrior fall ? — Deerslayer did not get 
 his name by being slow of sight, or clumsy with 
 the rifle ! ” 
 
 “ In that particular, chief, you’re nearer rea- 
 son, and, therefore, nearer being right. I may 
 say one Mingo fell.” 
 
 “ A chief ! ” demanded the other, with star- 
 tling vehemence. 
 
 “ Nay, that’s more than I know or can say. 
 He was artful, and treacherous, and stout-hearted, 
 and may well have gained popularity enough with 
 hia people to be named to that rank. The man 
 fou’t well, though his eye wasn’t quick enough 
 for one who had had his schooling in your com- 
 pany, Delaware.” 
 
 “ My brother and friend struck the body ? ” 
 
 “ That was uncalled for, seeing that the Min- 
 go died in my arms. The truth may as well be 
 
 said at once ; he fou’t like a man of red gifts, and 
 I fou’t like a man with gifts of my own color. 
 God gave me the victory ; I couldn’t fly in the 
 face of his providence by forgetting my birth and 
 natur’. White he made me, and white I shall 
 live and die.” 
 
 “ Good ! Deerslayer is a pale-face, and lias 
 pale-face hands. A Delaware will look for the 
 scalp, and hang it on a pole, and sing a song in 
 his honor, when we go back to our people. The 
 honor belongs to the tribe ; it must not be lost.” 
 
 “ This is easy talking, but ’twill not be as easy 
 doing. The Mingo’s body is in the hands of his 
 fri’nds, and, no doubt, is hid in some hole, where 
 Delaware cunning will never be able to get at the 
 scalp.” 
 
 The young man then gave his friend a succinct 
 but clear account of the event of the morning, con- 
 cealing nothing of any moment, and yet touching 
 on every thing modestly, and with a careful atten- 
 tion to avoid the Indian habit of boasting. Chin- 
 gachgook again expressed his satisfaction at the 
 honor won by his friend, and then both arose, the 
 hour having arrived when it became prudent to 
 move the ark farther from the land. 
 
 It was now quite dark ; the heavens having 
 become clouded, and the stars hid. The north wind 
 had ceased, as was usual, with the setting of the sun, 
 and a light air arose from the south. This change 
 favoring the design of Deerslayer, he lifted his 
 grapnel, and the scow immediatly and quite per- 
 ceptibly began to drift more into the lake. The 
 sail was set, when the motion of the craft in- 
 creased to a rate not much less than two miles in 
 the hour. As this superseded the necessity of 
 rowing — an occupation that an Indian would not 
 be likely to desire — Deerslayer, Chingachgook, 
 and Judith, seated themselves in the stern of the 
 scow, where the first governed its movements by 
 holding the oar. Here they discoursed on their 
 future movements, and on the means that ought 
 to be used in order to effect the liberation of their 
 friends. 
 
 In this dialogue Judith held a material part ; 
 the Delaware readily understanding all she said, 
 while his own replies and remarks, both of which 
 were few and pithy, were occasionally rendered 
 into English by his friend. Judith rose greatly in 
 the estimation of her companions, in the half hour 
 that followed. Prompt of resolution and firm of 
 purpose, her suggestions and expedients partook 
 of her spirit and sagacity, both of which were of 
 a character to find favor with men of the frontier 
 The events that had occurred since their meeting, 
 as well as her isolated and dependent situation, 
 induced the girl to feel toward Deerslayer like ths 
 
70 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER 
 
 friend of a year, instead of an acquaintance of a 
 day ; and so completely had she been won by his 
 guileless truth of character and of feeling — pure 
 novelties in our sex, as respected her own experi- 
 ence — that his peculiarities excited her curiosity, 
 and created a confidence that had never been 
 awakened by any other man. Hitherto she had 
 been compelled to stand on the defensive, in her 
 intercourse with men — with what success was 
 best known to herself ; but here had she been sud- 
 denly thrown into the society, and under the pro- 
 tection, of a youth who evidently as little contem- 
 plated evil toward herself as if he had been her 
 brother. The freshness of his integrity, the poe- 
 try and truth of his feelings, and even the quaint- 
 ness of his forms of speech, all had their influence, 
 and aided in awakening an interest that she found 
 as pure as it was sudden and deep. Hurry’s fine 
 face and manly form had never compensated for 
 his boisterous and vulgar turn; and her inter- 
 course with the officers had prepared her to make 
 comparisons under which even his great natural 
 advantages suffered. But this very intercourse 
 with the officers who occasionally came upon the 
 lake to fish and hunt, had an effect in producing 
 her present sentiments toward the young stranger. 
 
 . With them, while her vanity had been gratified, 
 and her self-love strongly awakened, she had 
 many causes deeply to regret the acquaintance — 
 if not to mourn over it in secret sorrow — for it 
 was impossible for one of her quick intellect not 
 to perceive how hollow was the association be- 
 tween superior and inferior, and that she was re- 
 garded as the plaything of an idle hour, rather 
 than as an equal and a friend, by even the best 
 intentioned and least designing of her scarlet-clad 
 admirers. Deerslayer, on the other hand, had a 
 window in his breast, through which the light of 
 his honesty was ever shining ; and even his indif- 
 ference to charms that so rarely failed to produce 
 a sensation piqued the pride of the girl, and gave 
 him an interest that another, seemingly more fa- 
 vored by Nature, might have failed to excite. 
 
 In this manner half an hour passed, during 
 which time the ark had been slowly stealing over 
 the water, the darkness thickening around it; 
 though it was easy to see that the gloom of the 
 forest at the southern end of the lake was getting 
 to be distant, while the mountains that lined the 
 sides of the beautiful basin were overshadowing 
 it, nearly from side to side. There was, indeed, 
 a narrow stripe of water, in the centre of the 
 lake, where the dim light that was still shed from 
 the heavens fell upon its surface, in a line extend- 
 ing north and south ; and along this faint tract 
 —a sort of inverted milky-way, in which the ob- 
 
 | scurity was not quite as dense as in other places 
 — the scow held her course, he who steered well 
 knowing that it led in the direction he wished to 
 .go. The reader is not to suppose, however, that 
 any difficulty could exist as to the course. This 
 would have been determined by that of the air, 
 had it not been possible to distinguish the moun- 
 tains, as well as by the dim opening to the south, 
 which marked the position of the valley in that 
 quarter, above the plain of tall trees, by a sort of 
 lessened obscurity ; the difference between the 
 darkness of the forest, and that of the night, as 
 seen only in the air. The peculiarities at length 
 caught the attention of Judith and the Deer- 
 slayer, and the conversation ceased, to allow each 
 to gaze at the solemn stillness and deep repose of 
 Nature. 
 
 “ ’Tis a gloomy night,” observed the girl, after 
 a pause of several minutes. “ I hope we shall be 
 able to find the castle;” 
 
 “ Little fear of our missing that,' if we keep 
 this path, in the middle of the lake,” returned 
 the young man. “ Natur’ has made us a road 
 here, and, dim as it is, there’ll be little difficulty 
 in following it.” 
 
 “Do you hear nothing, Deerslayer? It 
 seemed as if the water was stirring quite near 
 us ! ” 
 
 “Sartainly something did move the water, 
 oncommon like ; it must have been a fish. Them 
 creatur’s prey upon each other like men and ani- 
 mals on the land ; one has leaped into the air, 
 and fallen back hard into his own element. ’Tis 
 of little use, Judith, for any to strive to get out 
 of their elements, since it’s natur’ to stay in ’em ; 
 and Natur’ will have its way. Ha ! that sounds 
 like a paddle, used with more than common cau 
 tion ! ” 
 
 At this moment the Delaware bent forward 
 and pointed significantly into the boundary of the 
 gloom, as if some object had suddenly caught his 
 eye. Both Deerslayer and Judith followed the 
 direction of his gesture, and each got a view of a 
 canoe at the same instant. The glimpse of this 
 startling neighbor was dim, and, to eyes less 
 practised, it might have been uncertain ; though 
 to those in the ark, the object was evidently a 
 canoe, with a single individual in it ; the lattei 
 standing erect and paddling. How many lay con 
 cealed in its bottom, of course could not be 
 known. Flight, by means of oars, from a bark 
 canoe impelled by vigorous and skilful hands, 
 was utterly impracticable, and each of the moo 
 seized his rifle in expectation of a conflict. 
 
 “ I can easily bring down the paddler,” whis- 
 pered Deerslayer, “ but we’ll first hail him and 
 
STRANGE CONDUCT OF HETTY. 
 
 71 
 
 Ask his ar’nd.” Then, raising his voice, he con- 
 tinued in a solemn manner : “ Hold ! If you come 
 nearer I must fire, though contrary to my wishes, 
 and then sartain death will follow. Stop pad- 
 dling, and answer ! ” 
 
 “ Fire, and slay a poor defenceless girl,” re- 
 turned a soft, tremulous female voice, “ and God 
 will never forgive you ! Go your way, Deerslayer, 
 and let me go mine.” 
 
 “ Hetty ! ” exclaimed the young man and Ju- 
 dith in a breath ; and the former sprang instantly 
 to the spot where he had left the canoe they had 
 been towing. It was gone, and he understood 
 the whole affair. As for the fugitive, frightened 
 at the menace, she ceased paddling, and remained 
 dimly visible, resembling a spectral outline of a 
 human form, standing on the water. At the next 
 moment the sail was lowered to prevent the ark 
 from passing the spot where the canoe lay. This 
 last expedient, however, was not taken in time ; 
 for the momentum of so heavy a craft and the im- 
 pulsion of the air soon set her by, bringing Hetty 
 directly to windward, though still visible, as the 
 change in the positions of the two boats now 
 placed her in that species of milky-way which has 
 been mentioned. 
 
 “What can this mean, Judith?” demanded 
 Deerslayer. “Why has your sister taken the 
 canoe, and left us ? ” 
 
 “ You know she is feeble-minded, poor girl ! 
 and she has her own ideas of what ought to be 
 done. She loves her father more than most' chil- 
 dren love their parents — and then — ” 
 
 “ Then, what, gal ? This is a trying moment ; 
 one in which truth must be spoken ? ” 
 
 Judith felt a generous and womanly regret at 
 betraying her sister, and she hesitated ere she 
 spoke again. But once more urged by Deerslay- 
 er, and conscious herself of all the risks the whole 
 party was running by the indiscretion of Hetty, 
 she could refrain no longer. 
 
 “ Then, I fear, poor, weak-minded Hetty has 
 not been altogether able to see the vanity, and 
 madness, and folly, that lie hid behind the hand- 
 some face and fine form of Hurry Harry. She 
 talks of him in her sleep, and sometimes betrays 
 the inclination in her waking moments.” 
 
 “ You think, Judith, that your sister is now 
 bent on some mad scheme to serve her father aud 
 Hurry, which will, in all likelihood, give them 
 riptyles, the Mingoes, the mastership of a ca- 
 noe? ” 
 
 “ Such, 1 fear, will turn out to be the fact, 
 Deerslayer. Poor Hetty has hardly sufficient 
 cunning to outwit a savage.” 
 
 All this while the canoe, with the form of 
 
 Hetty erect in one end of it, was dimly percep- 
 tible ; though the greater drift of the ark ren- 
 dered it at each instant less and less distinct. It 
 was evident no time was to be lost, lest it should 
 altogether disappear. The rifles were now laid 
 aside as useless ; the two men seizing the oars, 
 and sweeping the head of the scow round in the 
 direction of the canoe. Judith, accustomed to 
 the office, flew to the other end of the ark and 
 placed herself at what might be called the helm. 
 Hetty took the alarm at these preparations, which 
 could not be made without noise, and started off 
 like a bird that had been suddenly put up by the 
 approach of unexpected danger. 
 
 As Deerslayer and his companion rowed with 
 the energy of those who felt the necessity of 
 straining every nerve, and Hetty’s strength was 
 impaired by a nervous desire to escape, the 
 chase would have quickly terminated in the cap- 
 ture of the fugitive had not the girl made several 
 short and unlooked-for deviations in her course. 
 These turnings gave her time, and they had also 
 the effect of gradually bringing both the canoe 
 and ark within the deeper gloom cast by the 
 shadows from the hills. They also gradually in- 
 creased the distance between the fugitive and her 
 pursuers, until Judith called out to her compan- 
 ions to cease rowing, for she had completely lost 
 sight of the canoe. 
 
 When this mortifying announcement was 
 made, Hetty was actually so near as to under- 
 stand every syllable her sister uttered ; though 
 the latter had used the precaution of speaking as 
 low as circumstances would allow her to do, and 
 make herself heard. Hetty stopped paddling at 
 the same moment, and waited the result with an 
 impatience that was breathless, equally from her 
 late exertions and her desire to land. A dead si- 
 lence immediately fell on the lake ; during which 
 the three in the ark were using their senses dif- 
 ferently in order to detect the position of the 
 canoe. Judith leaned forward to listen, in the 
 hope of catching some sound that might betray 
 the direction in which her sister was stealing 
 away ; while her two companions brought their 
 eyes as near as possible to a level with the wa- 
 ter, in order to detect any object that might be 
 floating on its surface. All was vam, however, 
 for neither sound nor sight rewarded their efforts. 
 All this time, Hetty, who had not the cunning 10 
 sink into the canoe, stood erect, a finger pressed 
 on her lips, gazing in the direction in which the 
 voices had been heard, resembling a statue of 
 profound and timid attention. Her ingenuity had 
 barely sufficed to enable her to seize the canoe 
 and to quit the ark in the noiseless manner re- 
 
72 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 lated ; and then it appeared to be momentarily 
 exhausted. Even the doublings of the canoe had 
 been as much the consequence of an uncertain 
 hand, and of nervous agitation, as of any crafti- 
 ness or calculation. 
 
 The pause continued several minutes ; during 
 which Deerslayer and the Delaware conferred to- 
 gether in the language of the latter. Then the 
 oars dipped again, and the ark moved away, row- 
 ing with as little noise as possible. It steered 
 westward, a little southerly, or in the direction 
 of the encampment of the enemy. Having 
 reached a point at no great distance from the 
 shore, and where the obscurity was intense, on 
 account of the proximity of the land, it lay there 
 near an hour, in waiting for the expected approach 
 of Hetty ; who, it was thought, would make the 
 best of her way to that spot as soon as she be- 
 lieved herself relieved from the danger of pursuit. 
 No success rewarded this little blockade, how- 
 ever ; neither appearance nor sound denoting the 
 passage of the canoe. Disappointed at this fail- 
 ure, and conscious of the importance of getting 
 possession of the fortress before it could be seized 
 by the enemy, Deerslayer now took his way tow- 
 ard the castle, with the apprehension that all his 
 foresight in securing the canoes would be defeated 
 by this unguarded and alarming movement on the 
 n“rt of the feeble-minded Hetty. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 “ But who in this wild-wood 
 
 May credit give to either eye or ear ? 
 
 From rocky precipice or hollow cave, 
 
 ’Mid the confused sound of rustling leaves, 
 
 And crackling boughs, and cries of nightly birds, 
 Returning seeming answer.” 
 
 Joanna Bxn/LrE. 
 
 Fear, as much as calculation, had induced 
 Hetty to cease paddling, when she found that her 
 pursuers did not know in which direction to pro- 
 ceed. She remained stationary, until the ark had 
 pulled in near the encampment, as has been re- 
 lated in the preceding chapter ; when she resumed 
 the paddle, and with cautious strokes made the 
 best of her way toward the western shore. In 
 order to avoid her pursuers, however, who, she 
 rightly suspected, would soon be rowing along 
 that shore themselves, the head of the canoe was 
 pointed so far north as to bring her to land on a 
 point that thrust itself into the lake, at the dis- 
 tance of near a league irom the outlet. Nor was 
 this altogether the result of a desire to escape ; 
 for, feeble-minded as she was, Hetty Hutter had 
 
 a good deal of that instinctive caution which so 
 often keeps those whom God has thus visited from 
 harm. She was perfectly aware of the importance 
 of keeping the canoes from falling into the hands 
 of the Iroquois ; and long familiarity with the 
 lake had suggested one of the simplest expedients, 
 by which this great object could be rendered com- 
 patible with her own purpose. 
 
 The point in question was the first projection 
 that offered on that side of the lake, where a 
 canoe, if set adrift with a southerly air, would 
 float clear of the land ; and where it would be no 
 great violation of probabilities to suppose it might 
 even hit the castle ; the latter lying above it, al- 
 most in a direct line with the wind. Such, then, 
 was Hetty’s intention ; and she landed on the ex- 
 tremity of the gravelly point, beneath an over- 
 hanging oak, with the express intention of shov- 
 ing the canoe off from the shore, in order that it 
 might drift up toward her father’s insulated abode. 
 She knew, too, from the logs that occasionally 
 floated about the lake, that, did it miss the castle 
 and its appendages, the wind would be likely to 
 change before the canoe could reach the northern 
 extremity of the lake, and that Deerslayer might 
 have an opportunity of regaining it in the morn- 
 ing, when no doubt he would be earnestly sweep- 
 ing the surface of the water, and the whole of its 
 wooded shores, with the glass. In all this, too, 
 Hetty was less governed by any chain of reason- 
 ing than by her habits ; the latter often supplying 
 the defects of mind in human beings, as they per- 
 form the same office for animals of the inferior 
 classes. 
 
 The girl was quite an hour finding her way to 
 the point, the distance and the obscurity equally 
 detaining her ; but she was no sooner on the grav- 
 elly beach than she prepared to set the canoe 
 adrift in the manner mentioned. While in the 
 act of pushing it from her, she heard low voices 
 that seemed to come from among the trees be- 
 hind her. Startled at this unexpected danger, 
 Hetty was on the point of springing into the 
 canoe again, in order to seek safety in flight, when 
 she thought she recognized the tones of Judith’s 
 melodious voice. Bending forward so as to catch 
 the sounds more directly, they evidently came 
 from the water; and then she understood that 
 the ark was approaching from the south, and so 
 close in with the western shore as necessarily to 
 cause it to pass the point within twenty yards of 
 the spot where she stood. Here, then, was all 
 she could desire ; the canoe was shoved off into 
 the lake, leaving its late occupant alone on the 
 narrow strand. 
 
 Y/hen this act of self-devotion was performed* 
 
A SINGULAR PROJECT. 
 
 73 
 
 Hetty did not retire. The foliage of the over- 
 hanging trees and bushes would have almost con- 
 cealed her person, had there been light ; but in 
 that obscurity, it wa3 utterly impossible to dis- 
 cover any object thus shaded at the distance of 
 a few feet. Flight, too, was perfectly easy, as 
 twenty steps would effectually bur) her in the 
 forest. She remained, therefore, watching with 
 intense anxiety the result of her expedient, intend- 
 ing to call the attention of the others to the canoe 
 with her voice, should they appear to pass with- 
 out observing it. The ark approached under its 
 sail again ; Deerslayer standing in its bow, with 
 Judith near him, and the Delaware at the helm. 
 It would seem that, in the bay below, it had got 
 too close to the shore, in the lingering hope of 
 intercepting Hetty ; for, as it came nearer, the 
 latter distinctly heard the directions that the 
 young man forward gave to his companion, in 
 order to clear the point. 
 
 “ Lay her head more off the shore, Delaware,” 
 said Deerslayer, for the third time, speaking in 
 English, that his fair companion might understand 
 his words ; “ lay her head well off shore. We 
 have got embayed here, and needs keep the mast 
 clear of the trees. — Judith, there’s a canoe ! ” 
 
 The last words were uttered with great ear- 
 nestness, and Deerslayer’s hand was on his rifle ere 
 they were fairly out of his mouth. But the truth 
 flashed on the mind of the quick-witted girl, and 
 she instantly told her companion that the boat 
 must be that in which her sister had fled. 
 
 “ Keep the scow straight, Delaware ; steer as 
 straight as your bullet flies when sent ag’in a 
 buck ; there — I have it.” 
 
 The canoe was seized, and immediately se- 
 cured again to the side of the ark. At the next 
 moment the sail was lowered, and the motion of 
 the ark arrested, by means of the oars. 
 
 “ Hetty ! ” called out Judith, concern, even 
 affection, betraying itself in her tones ; “ are you 
 within hearing, sister — for God’s sake answer, and 
 let me hear the sound of your voice again ! Het- 
 ty ! — dear Hetty ! ” 
 
 “ I’m here, Judith — here on the shore, where 
 it will be useless to follow me ; as I will hide in 
 the woods.” 
 
 “ 0 Hetty ! what is’t you do ? Remember, 
 ’tis drawing near midnight, and that the woods 
 are filled with savages and wild beasts ! ” 
 
 “ Neither will harm a poor, half-witted girl, 
 Judith. God is as much with me here as He 
 would be in the ark or in the hut. I am going 
 to help my father and poor Hurry Harry, who 
 will be tortured and slain unless some one cares 
 for them.” 
 
 “ We all care for them, and intend to-morrow 
 to send them a flag of truce to buy their ransom. 
 Come back, then, sister; trust to us, who have 
 better heads than you, and who will do all we 
 can for father.” 
 
 “I know your head is better than mine, Ju- 
 dith, for mine is very weak, to be sure ; but I 
 must go to father and poor Hurry. Do you and 
 Deerslayer keep the castle, sister ; leave me in 
 the hands of God.” 
 
 “ God is with us all, Hetty — in the castle, or 
 on the shore — father as well as ourselves ; and 
 it is sinful not to trust to his goodness. You 
 can do nothing in the dark ; will lose your way 
 in the forest, and perish for want of food.” 
 
 “ God will not let that happen to a poor child 
 that goes to serve her father, sister. I must try 
 and find the savages.” 
 
 “Come back, for this night only; in the 
 morning we will put you ashore, and leave you to 
 do as you may think right.” 
 
 “You say so, Judith, and you think so; but 
 you would not. Your heart would soften, and 
 you’d see tomahawks and scalping-knives in the 
 air. Besides, I’ve got a thing to tell the Indian 
 chief that will answer all our wishes ; and I’m 
 afraid I may forget it if I don’t tell it to him at 
 once. You’ll see that he will let father go as 
 soon as he hears it ! ” 
 
 “ Poor Hetty ! What can you say to a fero- 
 cious savage that will be likely to change his 
 bloody purpose ? ” 
 
 “ That which will frighten him and make him 
 let father go,” returned the simple-minded girl, 
 positively. “ You’ll see, sister ; you’ll see how 
 soon it will bring him to, like a gentle child ! ” 
 
 “ Will you tell me , Hetty, what you intend to 
 say ? ” asked Deerslayer ; “ I know the savages 
 well, and can form some idee how far fair words 
 will be likely or not to work on their bloody na- 
 tur’s. If it’s not suited to the gifts of a red-skin, 
 ’twill be of no use ; for reason goes by gifts as 
 well as conduct.” 
 
 “ Well, then,” answered Hetty, dropping her 
 voice to a low, confidental tone— for the stillness 
 of the night and the nearness of the ark per- 
 mitted her to do this and still to be heard — 
 “ well, then, Deerslayer, as you seem a good and 
 honest young man, I will tell you. I mean not to 
 say a word to any of the savages until I get face 
 to face with their head chief, let them plague me 
 with as many questions as they please ; no — I’ll 
 answer none of them, unless it be to tell them to 
 lead me to their wisest man. Then, Deerslayer, 
 I’ll tell him that God will not forgive murder and 
 thefts ; and that, if father and Hurry did go after 
 
74 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 the scalps of the Iroquois, he must return good 
 for evil, for so the Bible commands, else he will 
 go into everlasting punishment. When he hears 
 this, and feels it to be true, as feel it he must, 
 how long will it be before he sends father, and 
 Hurry, and me, to the shore, opposite the castle ; 
 telling us all three to go our way in peace ? ” 
 
 The last question was put in a triumphant 
 manner ; and then the simple-minded girl laughed 
 at the impression she never doubted that her pro- 
 ject had made on her auditors. Deerslayer was 
 dumfounded at this proof of guileless feebleness 
 of mind ; but Judith had suddenly bethought her 
 of a means of counteracting this wild project by 
 acting on the very feelings that had given it birth. 
 Without adverting to the closing question, or the 
 laugh, therefore, she hurriedly called to her sister 
 by name as one suddenly impressed with the im- 
 portance of what she had to say. But no answer 
 was given to the call. 
 
 By the snapping of twigs, and the rustling of 
 leaves, Hetty had evidently quitted the shore, and 
 was already burying herself in the forest. To 
 follow would have been bootless, since the dark- 
 ness, as well as the dense cover that the woods 
 everywhere afforded, would have rendered her 
 capture next to impossible ; and there was also 
 the never-ceasing danger of falling into the hands 
 of their enemies. After a short and melancholy 
 discussion, therefore, the sail was again set, and 
 fehe ark pursued its course toward its habitual 
 moorings ; Deerslayer silently felicitating him- 
 self on the recovery of the canoe, and brooding 
 over his plans for the morrow. The wind rose 
 as the party quitted the point, and in less than 
 an hour they reached the castle. Here all was 
 found as it had been left ; and the reverse of the 
 ceremonies had to be taken in entering the build- 
 ing, that had been used on quitting it. Judith 
 occupied a solitary bed that night, bedewing the 
 pillow with her tears as she thought of the inno- 
 cent and hitherto neglected creature who had 
 been her companion from childhood ; and bitter 
 regrets came over her mind, from more causes 
 than one, as the weary hours passed away, mak- 
 ing it nearly morning before she lost her recol- 
 lection in sleep. Deerslayer and the Delaware 
 took their rest in the ark, where we shall leave 
 them, enjoying the deep sleep of the honest, the 
 healthful, and fearless, to return to the girl we 
 have last seen in the midst of the forest. 
 
 When Hetty left the shore, she took her way 
 unhesitatingly into the woods with a nervous ap- 
 prehension of being followed. Luckily, this 
 course was the best she could have nit on to ef- 
 fect her own purpose, since it was the only one 
 
 that led her from the point. The night was so 
 intensely dark, beneath the branches of the trees, 
 that her progress was very slow, and the direc- 
 tion she went altogether a matter of chance after 
 the first few yards. The formation of the ground, 
 however, did not permit her to deviate far from 
 the line in which she desired to proceed. On on® 
 hand, it was soon bounded by the acclivity of the 
 hill ; while the lake on the other served as a 
 guide. For two hours did this single-hearted and 
 simple-minded girl toil through the mazes of the 
 forest; sometimes finding herself on the brow 
 of the bank that bounded the water, and at others 
 struggling up an ascent that warned her to go no 
 farther in that direction, since it necessarily ran 
 at right angles to the course on which she wished 
 to proceed. Her feet often slid from beneath her, 
 and she got many falls, though none to do her 
 injury ; but, by the end of the period mentioned, 
 she had become so weary as to want strength to 
 go any farther. Rest was indispensable ; and 
 she set about preparing a bed with the readiness 
 and coolness of one to whom the wilderness pre- 
 sented no unnecessary terrors. She knew that 
 wild beasts roamed through all the adjacent 
 forest, but animals that preyed on the human 
 species were rare, and of dangerous serpents 
 there were literally none. These facts had been 
 taught her by her father; and whatever her 
 feeble mind received at all, it received so con- 
 fidingly as to leave her no uneasiness from any 
 doubts or skepticism. To her the sublimity of 
 the solitude in which she was placed was sooth- 
 ing rather than appalling; and she gathered a 
 bed of leaves, with as much indifference to the cir- 
 cumstances that would have driven the thoughts 
 of sleep entirely from the minds of most of her 
 sex, as if she had been preparing her place of 
 nightly rest beneath the paternal roof. 
 
 As soon as Hetty had collected a sufficient 
 number of the dried leaves to protect her person 
 from the damps of the ground, she kneeled be- 
 side the humble pile, clasped her raised hands in 
 an attitude of deep devotion, and in a soft, low, 
 but audible voice repeated the Lord’s prayer. 
 This was followed by those simple and devout 
 verses, so familiar to children, in which she rec- 
 ommended her soul to God should it be called 
 away to another state of existence ere the return 
 of morning. This duty done, she lay down and 
 disposed herself to sleep. The attire of the girl, 
 though suited to the season, was sufficiently warm 
 for all ordinary purposes ; but the forest is ever 
 cool, and the nights of that elevated region of 
 country have always a freshness about them that 
 renders clothing more necessary than is common- 
 
IIETTY AND THE BEARS. 
 
 75 
 
 ty the case in the summers of a low latitude. 
 This had been foreseen by Hettv r who had 
 brought with her a coarse, heavy mantle, which, 
 when laid over her body, answered all the use- 
 ful purposes of a blanket. Thus protected, she 
 dropped asleep in a few minutes as tranquilly 
 as if watched over by the guardian care of 
 that mother who had so recently been taken 
 from her forever — affording, in this particu- 
 lar, a most striking contrast between her own 
 humble couch and the sleepless pillow of her 
 sister. 
 
 Hour passed after hour, in a tranquillity as 
 undisturbed and a rest as sweet as if angels, ex- 
 pressly commissioned for that object, watched 
 around the bed of Hetty Hutter. Not once did 
 her soft eyes open, until the gray of the dawn 
 came struggling through the tops of the trees, 
 falling on their lids, and, united to the freshness 
 of a s um mer’s morning, giving the usual summons 
 to awake. Ordinarily, Hetty was up ere the rays 
 of the sun tipped the summits of the mountains ; 
 but, on this occasion, her fatigue had been so 
 great, and her rest was so profound, that the 
 customary warnings failed of their effect. The 
 girl murmured in her sleep, threw an arm for- 
 ward, smiled as gently as an infant in its cradle, 
 but still slumbered. In making this unconscious 
 gesture, her hand fell on some object that was 
 warm, and, in the half-unconscious state in which 
 she lay, she connected the circumstance with 
 her habits. At the next moment, a rude attack 
 was made on her side, as if a rooting animal 
 were thrusting its snout beneath, with a desire 
 to force her position ; and then, uttering the 
 name of “ Judith,” she awoke. As the startled 
 girl arose to a sitting attitude, she perceived that 
 some dark object sprang from her, scattering the 
 leaves and snapping the fallen twigs in its haste. 
 Opening her eyes, and recovering from the first 
 confusion and astonishment of her situation, Het- 
 ty perceived a cub, of the common American 
 brown bear, balancing itself on its hinder legs, 
 and still looking toward her, as if doubtful 
 whether it would be safe to trust itself near her 
 person again. The first impulse of Hetty, who 
 had been mistress of several of these cubs, was 
 to run and seize the little creature as a prize, but 
 a loud growl warned her of the danger of such a 
 procedure. Recoiling a few steps, the girl looked 
 hurriedly round, and perceived the dam watching 
 her movements, with fiery eyes, at no great dis- 
 tance. A hollow tree, that had once been the 
 home of bees, having recently fallen, the mother, 
 with two more cubs, was feasting on the dainty 
 food that this accident had placed within her 
 
 reach ; while the first kept a jealous eye on the 
 situation of its truant and reckless young. 
 
 It would exceed all the means of human 
 knowledge to pretend to analyze the influences 
 that govern the acts of the lower animals. On 
 this occasion, the dam, though proverbially fierce 
 when its young is thought to be in danger, mani- 
 fested no intention to attack the girl. It quitted 
 the honey, and advanced to a place within twenty 
 feet of her, where it raised itself on its hinder 
 legs, and balanced its body in a sort of angry 
 growling discontent, but approached no nearer 
 Happily, Hetty did not fly. On the contrary, 
 though not without terror, she knelt with her 
 face toward the animal, and, with clasped hands 
 and uplifted eyes, repeated the prayer of the pre- 
 vious night. This act of devotion was not the 
 result of alarm ; it was a duty she never neglect- 
 ed to perform ere she slept, and when the return 
 of consciousness awoke her to the business of the 
 day. As the girl arose from her knees, the bear 
 dropped on his feet again, and, collecting its cubs 
 around her, permitted them to draw their natu- 
 ral sustenance. Hetty was delighted with this 
 proof of tenderness in an animal that has but a 
 very indifferent reputation for the gentler feel- 
 ings ; and as a cub would quit its mother to frisk 
 and leap about in wantonness, she felt a strong 
 desire again to catch it up in her arms, and play 
 with it. But, admonished by the growl, she had 
 self-command sufficient not to put this dangerous 
 project in execution ; and, recollecting her errand 
 among the hills, she tore herself away from the 
 group, and proceeded on her course, along tne 
 margin of the lake, of which she now caught 
 glimpses again through the trees. To her sur- 
 prise, though not to her alarm, the family of 
 bears arose and followed her steps, keeping a 
 short distance behind her ; apparently watching 
 every movement, as if they had a near interest in 
 all she did. 
 
 In this manner, escorted by the dam and cubs, 
 the girl proceeded nearly a mile, thrice the dis- 
 tance she had been able to achieve in the dark- 
 ness, during the same period of time. She then 
 reached a brook that had dug a channel for itself 
 into the earth, and went brawling into the lake, 
 between steep and high banks, covered with trees. 
 Here Hetty performed her ablutions ; then, drink- 
 ing of the pure mountain- water, she went her way, 
 refreshed and lighter of heart, still attended by 
 her singular companions. Her course now lay 
 along a broad and nearly level terrace which 
 stretched, from the top of the bank that bounded 
 the water, to a low acclivity that rose to a sec- 
 ond and irregular platform above. This was at a 
 
76 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 part of the valley where the mountains ran 
 obliquely, forming the commencement of a plain 
 that spread between the hills, southward of the 
 sheet of water. Hetty knew, by this circum- 
 stance, that she was getting near to the encamp- 
 ment, and, had she not, the bears would have 
 given her warning of the vicinity of human be- 
 ings. Snuffing the air, the dam refused to follow 
 any farther, though the girl looked back and in- 
 vited her to come by childish signs, and even by 
 direct appeals made in her own sweet voice. It 
 was while making her way slowly through some 
 bushes, in this manner, with averted face, and 
 eyes riveted on the immovable animals, that the 
 girl suddenly found her steps arrested by a hu- 
 man hand, that was laid lightly on her shoulder. 
 
 “ Where go ? ” said a soft female voice, 
 speaking hurriedly, and in concern. “Indian 
 — red man — savage — wicked warrior — that-a- 
 way.” 
 
 This unexpected salutation alarmed the girl 
 no more than the presence of the fierce inhab- 
 itants "of the woods. It took her a little by sur- 
 prise, it is true, but she was in a measure pre- 
 pared for some such meeting ; and the creature 
 who stopped her was as little likely to excite 
 terror as any who ever appeared in the guise of 
 an Indian. It was a girl not much older than 
 herself, whose smile was sunny as Judith’s in her 
 Brightest moments, whose voice was melody it- 
 self, and whose accents and manner had all the 
 rebuked gentleness that characterizes the sex 
 among a people who habitually treat their wom- 
 en as the attendants and servitors of the war- 
 riors. Beauty among the women of the aboriginal 
 Americans, before they have become exposed to 
 the hardships of wives and mothers, is by no 
 means uncommon. In this particular, the origi- 
 nal owners of the country were not unlike their 
 more civilized successors ; Nature appearing to 
 have bestowed that delicacy of mien and outline 
 that forms so great a charm in the youthful fe- 
 male, but of which they are so early deprived ; 
 and that, too, as much by the habits of domestic 
 life, as from any other cause. 
 
 The girl who had so suddenly arrested the 
 steps of Hetty, was dressed in a calico mantle, 
 that effectually protected all the upper part of her 
 person, while a short petticoat of blue cloth 
 edged with gold lace, that fell no lower than her 
 knees, leggings of the same, and moccasins of 
 deer-skin, completed her attire. Her hair fell in 
 long, dark braids down her shoulders and back, 
 and was parted above a low, smooth forehead, in 
 a way to soften the expression of eyes that were 
 full of archness and natural feeling. Her face 
 
 was oval, with delicate features ; the teeth were 
 even and white ; while the mouth expressed a 
 melancholy tenderness, as if it wore this peculiar 
 meaning in intuitive perception of the fate of a 
 being who was doomed from birth to endure a 
 woman’s sufferings, relieved by a woman’s affec- 
 tions. Her voice, as has been already intimated, 
 was soft as the sighing of the night air, a charac- 
 teristic of the females of her race, but which was 
 so conspicuous in herself as to have procured for 
 her the name of Wah-ta !-Wah ; which rendered 
 into English means Hist-oh !-Hist. 
 
 In a word, this was the betrothed of Chin- 
 gachgook ; who, having succeeded in lulling their 
 suspicions, was permitted to wander around the 
 encampment of her captors. This indulgence 
 was in accordance with the general policy of the 
 red man, who well knew, moreover, that her 
 trail could have been followed in the event of 
 flight. 
 
 It will also be remembered that the Iroquois, 
 or Hurons, as it would be better to call them, 
 were entirely ignorant of the proximity of her 
 lover ; a fact, indeed, that she did not know her 
 self. 
 
 It is not easy to say which manifested the 
 most self-possession at this unexpected meeting ; 
 the pale-face or the red girl. But, though a little 
 surprised, Wah-ta !-W ah was the most willing to 
 speak, and far the readier in foreseeing conse- 
 quences, as well as in devising means to avert 
 them. Her father, during her childhood, had 
 been much employed as a warrior by the authori- 
 ties of the colony ; and, dwelling for several years 
 near the forts, she had caught a knowledge of the 
 English 'tongue, which she spoke in the usual ab - 
 breviated manner of an Indian, but fluently, and 
 without any of the ordinary reluctance of her 
 people. 
 
 “ Where go ? ” repeated Wah-ta !-Wah, re- 
 turning the smile of Hetty, in her own gentle, 
 winning manner; “ wicked warrior that-a-way — 
 good warrior far off.” 
 
 “ What’s your name ? ” asked Hetty, with the 
 simplicity of a child. 
 
 “ Wah-ta !-Wah. I no Mingo — good Delaware 
 — Yengeese friend. Mingo cruel, and love scalp 
 for blood — Delaware love him for honor. Comt 
 here, where no eyes.” 
 
 Wah-ta !-Wah now led her companion toward 
 the lake, descending the bank so as to place ita 
 overhanging trees and bushes between them and 
 any probable observers ; nor did she stop until 
 they were both seated, side by side, on a fallen 
 log, one end of which actually lay buried in the 
 water. 
 
THE BETROTHED OF C1IINGACHGOOK. 
 
 77 
 
 “Why you come foi ? v the young Indian eager- 
 y inquired ; “ where you come from ? ” 
 
 Hetty told her tale in her own simple and 
 truth-loving manner. She explained the situation 
 of her father, and stated her desire to serve him, 
 and, if possible, to procure his release. 
 
 “ Why your father come to Mingo camp in 
 night ? ” asked the Indian girl, with a directness 
 which, if not borrowed from the other, partook 
 largely of its sincerity. “ He know it war-time, 
 and he no boy — he no want beard — no want to 
 be told Iroquois carry tomahawk, and knife, and 
 rifle. Why he come night-time, seize me by hair, 
 and try to scalp Delaware girl ? ” 
 
 “You!” said Hetty, almost sickening with 
 horror; “did he seize you — did he try to scalp 
 you ? ” 
 
 “ Why no ? Delaware scalp sell for much as 
 Mingo scalp, governor no tell difference. Wicked 
 t’ing for pale-face to scalp. No his gifts, as the 
 good Deerslayer alway tell me.” 
 
 “And do yon know the Deerslayer ?” said 
 Hetty, coloring with delight and surprise, forget- 
 ting her regrets at the moment, in the infl uence of 
 this new feeling. “ I know him, too. He is now in 
 the ark, with Judith, and a Delaware who. is 
 called the Big Serpent. A bold and handsome 
 warrior is this Serpent, too ! ” 
 
 Spite of the rich deep color that Nature had 
 bestowed on the Indian beauty, the tell-tale blood 
 deepened on her cheeks, until the blush gave new 
 animation and intelligence to her jet-black eyes. 
 Raising a finger in an attitude of warning, she 
 dropped her voice, already so soft and sweet, 
 nearly to a whisper, as she continued the dis- 
 course. 
 
 “ Chingachgook ! ” returned the Delaware 
 girl, sighing out the harsh name, in sounds so 
 softly guttural as to cause it to reach the ear in 
 melody. “ His father, Uncas — great chief of the 
 Mahicanni — next to old Tamenu nd ! More as 
 warrior, not so much gray hair, and less at 
 council-fire. You know Serpent ? ” 
 
 “He joined us last evening, and was in the 
 ark with me for two or three hours before I left 
 it. I’m afraid, Hist — ” Hetty could not pro- 
 nounce the Indian name of her new friend, but, 
 having heard Deerslayer give her this familiar 
 appellation, she used it without any of the 
 ceremony of civilized life ; “ I’m afraid, Hist, he 
 has come after scalps as well as my poor father 
 aivl Hurry Harry ! ” 
 
 “ Why he shouldn’t, ha ? Chingachgook red 
 warrior, very red — scalp make his honor — be 
 nure he take him.” 
 
 “ Then,” said Hetty, earnestly, “ he will be as 
 
 wicked as any other. God tull not pardon in a 
 red man what he will not pardon in a white man.” 
 
 “No true,” returned the Delaware girl, with a 
 warmth that nearly amounted to passion ; “ no 
 true, I tell you ! The Manitou smile and please 
 when he see young warrior come back from the 
 war-path, with two, ten, hundred scalp on a pole J 
 Chingachgook father take scalp, grandfather take 
 scalp — all old chief take scalp ; and Chingachgook 
 take as many scalp as he can carry, himself ! ” 
 
 “ Then, Hist, his sleep of nights must be ter- 
 rible to think of ! No one can be cruel and hope 
 to be forgiven.” 
 
 “ No cruel — plenty forgiven,” returned Wah- 
 ta!-Wah, stamping her little foot on the stony 
 strand, and shaking her head in a way to show 
 how completely feminine feeling, in one of its as- 
 pects, had got the better of feminine feeling in 
 another. “ I tell you, Serpent brave ; he go home 
 this time with four, yes, two scalp.” 
 
 “ And is that his errand here ? Did he really 
 come all this distance, across mountains and val- 
 leys, rivers and lakes, to torment his felloV-crea- 
 tures, and do so wicked a thing ? ” 
 
 This question at once appeased the growing 
 ire of the half-offended Indian beauty. It com- 
 pletely got the better of the prejudices of educa- 
 tion, and turned all her thoughts to a gentler and 
 more feminine channel. At first, she looked 
 around her suspiciously, as if distrusting eaves- 
 droppers ; then she gazed wistfully into the face 
 of her attentive companion ; after which this ex- 
 hibition of girlish coquetry and womanly feeling 
 terminated by her covering her face with both 
 her hands and laughing in a strain that might 
 well be termed the melody of the woods. Dread 
 of discovery, however, soon put a stop to this 
 naive exhibition of feeling, and, removing her 
 hands, this creature of impulses gazed again wist- 
 fully into the face of her companion, as if inquir- 
 ing how far she might trust a stranger with her 
 secret. Although Hetty had no claim to her 
 sister’s extraordinary beauty, many thought hei 
 countenance the most winning of the two. It ex- 
 pressed all the undisguised sincerity of her char- 
 acter, and it was totally free from any of the un- 
 pleasant physical accompaniments that so fre- 
 quently attend mental imbecility. It is true thafl 
 one accustomed to closer observation than com- 
 mon might have detected the proofs of her feeble- 
 ness of intellect in the .anguage of her sometimes 
 vacant eyes ; but they were signs that attracted 
 sympathy by their total want of guile rather than 
 by any other feeling. The effect on Hist, to use 
 the English and more familiar translation of the 
 name, was favorable; and, yielding to an im- 
 
78 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER 
 
 pulse of tenderness, she threw her arras around 
 Hetty aud embraced her with an outpouring emo- 
 tion so natural that it was only equalled by its 
 warmth. 
 
 “ You good,” whispered the young Indian ; 
 “ you good, I know ; it’s so long since Wah-ta !- 
 Wah have a friend — a sister — anybody to speak 
 her heart to ! you Hist friend ; don’t I say 
 trut’ ? ” 
 
 “ I never had a friend,” answered Hetty, re- 
 turning the warm embrace with unfeigned ear- 
 nestness ; “ I’ve a sister, but no friend. Judith 
 loves me, and I love Judith ; but that’s natural, 
 and as we are taught in the Bible ; but I should 
 like to have a friend l I’ll be your friend with 
 all my heart ; for I like your voice, and your 
 smile, and your way of thinking in every thing 
 except about the scalps^ — ” 
 
 “No t’ink more of him — no say more of 
 scalp,” interrupted Hist, soothingly ; “ you pale- 
 face, I red-skin ; we bring up different fashion. 
 Deerslayer and Cningachgook great friend, and 
 no the- same color ; Hist and — what your name, 
 pretty pale-face ? ” 
 
 “lam called Hetty, though when they spell 
 the name in the Bible they always spell it Es- 
 ther.” 
 
 “ What that make ? — no good, no harm. No 
 need to spell name at all. Moravian try to make 
 Wah-ta !-Wah spell, but no won’t let him. No 
 good for Delaware girl to know too much — know 
 more than warrior some time ; that great shame. 
 My name Wah-ta !-Wah — that say Hist in your 
 tongue ; you call him Hist — I call him Hetty.” 
 
 These preliminaries settled to their mutual 
 satisfaction, the two girls began to discourse of 
 their several hopes and projects. Hetty made 
 her new friend more fully acquainted with her 
 intentions in behalf of her father ; and, to one in 
 the least addicted to prying into the affairs of 
 others, Hist would have betrayed her own feel- 
 ings and expectations in connection with the 
 young warrior of her own tribe. Enough was re- 
 vealed on both sides, however, to let each party 
 get a tolerable insight into the views of the 
 other, though enough still remained in mental 
 reservation to give rise to the following questions 
 and answers, with which the interview in effect 
 closed. As the quickest-witted, Hist was the first 
 with her interrogatories. Folding an arm about 
 the waist of Hetty, she bent her head so as to 
 look up playfully into the face of the other ; and, 
 laughing, as if her meaning were to be extracted 
 from her looks, she spoke more plainly. 
 
 “ Hetty got broder, as well as fader ? ” she 
 said ; “ why no talk of broder as well as fader ? ” 
 
 “I have no brother, Hist. I had one once, 
 they say ; but he is dead many a year, and lies 
 buried in the lake by the side of mother.” 
 
 “ No got broder — got a young warrior ; lovr 
 him almost as much as fader, eh? Very hand- 
 ~some and brave-looking ; fit to be chief if he 
 good as he seem to be.” 
 
 “ It’s wicked to love any man as well as I 
 love my father, and so I strive not to do it, Hist,” 
 returned the conscientious Hetty, who knew not 
 how to conceal an emotion by an approach to an 
 untruth as venial as an evasion, though power- 
 fully tempted by female shame to err ; “ though 
 I sometimes think that wickedness will get the 
 better of me if Hurry comes so often to the lake. 
 I must tell you the truth, dear Hist, because you 
 ask me ; but I should fall down and die in the 
 woods if he knew it ! ” 
 
 “ Why he no ask you himself? Brave-look- 
 ing — why not bold-speaking ? Young warrior 
 ought to ask young girl ; no make young girl 
 speak first. Mingo girls too shame for that.” 
 
 This was said indignantly, and with the gen- 
 erous warmth a young female of spirit would be 
 apt to feel at what she deemed an invasion of her 
 se^’s most valued privilege. It had little influ- 
 ence on the simple-minded but also just-minded 
 Hetty ; who, though inherently feminine in all 
 her impulses, was much more alive to the work- 
 ings of her own heart than to any of the usages 
 with which convention has protected the sensi- 
 tiveness of her sex. 
 
 “ Ask me what ? ” the startled girl demanded, 
 with a suddenness that proved how completely 
 her fears had been aroused. “ Ask me if I like 
 him as w^ell as I do my own father ! Oh ! I hope 
 he will never put such a question to me, for I 
 should have to answer, and that would kill me ! ” 
 
 “No — no — no kill, quite almost,” returned 
 the other, laughing in spite of herself. “ Make 
 blush come — make shame come, too ; but he no 
 stay great while; then feel happier than ever. 
 Young warrior must tell young girl he want to 
 make wife, else never can live in his wigwam.” 
 
 “ Hurry don’t want to marry me — nobody will 
 ever want to marry me, Hist.” 
 
 “ How you can know ? P’r’aps everybody 
 want to marry you, and by-and-by tongue say 
 what heart feel. Why nobody want to marry 
 you ? ” 
 
 “ I am not fuL-witted, they say. Father often 
 tells me this ; and so does Judith sometimes, 
 when she is . vexed ; but I shouldn’t so much 
 mind them as I did mother. She said so once : 
 and then she cried as if her heart would break < 
 and so I know I’m not full-witted.” 
 
THE INDIAN MAID AND HER COMPANION. 
 
 79 
 
 Hist gazed at the gentle, simple girl for quite 
 a minute without speaking ; when the truth ap- 
 peared to flash all at once on the mind of the 
 young Indian maid. Pity, reverence, and tender- 
 ness, seemed struggling together in her breast ; 
 then, rising suddenly, she indicated a wish to her 
 companion that she would accompany her to the 
 camp, which was situated at no great distance. 
 This unexpected change, from the precaution that 
 Hist had previously manifested a desire to use in 
 order to prevent being seen, to an open exposure 
 of the person of her friend, arose from the perfect 
 conviction that no Indian would harm a being 
 whom the Great Spirit had disarmed by depriv- 
 ing it of its strongest defence, reason. In this 
 respect, nearly all unsophisticated nations re- 
 semble each other ; appearing to offer sponta- 
 neously, by a feeling creditable to human nature, 
 that protection by their own forbearance which 
 has been withheld by the inscrutable wisdom of 
 Providence. Wah-ta !-Wah, indeed, knew that 
 in many tribes the mentally imbecile and the mad 
 were held in a species of religious reverence : re- 
 ceiving from the untutored inhabitants of the 
 forest' respect and honors instead of the contume- 
 ly and neglect that it is their fortune to meet 
 with among the more pretending and sophisti- 
 cated. 
 
 Hetty accompanied her new friend without 
 apprehension or reluctance. It was her wish to 
 reach the camp ; and, sustained by her motives, 
 she felt no more concern for the consequences 
 than did her companion herself, now the latter 
 was apprised of the character of the protection 
 that the pale-face maiden carried with her. Still, 
 as they proceeded slowly along a shore that was 
 tangled with overhanging bushes, Hetty continued 
 the discourse, assuming the office of interrogat- 
 ing, which the other had instantly dropped as 
 soon as she ascertained the character of the mind 
 to which her questions had been addressed. 
 
 “ But you are not half-witted,” said Hetty ; 
 “and there’s no reason why the Serpent should 
 not marry you.” 
 
 “Hist, prisoner, and Mingo got big ear. No 
 speak of Chingachgook when they by. Promise 
 Hist that, good Hetty.” 
 
 “ I know— I know,” returned Hetty, half- 
 whispering in her eagerness to let the other see 
 she understood the necessity of caution. “ I 
 know — Deerslayer and the Serpent mean to get 
 you away from the Iroquois ; and you wish me 
 not to tell the secret.” 
 
 “ How you know ? ” said Hist, hastily ; vexed 
 at the moment that the other was not even more 
 feeble-minded than was actually the case. “ How 
 
 6 
 
 you know ? Better not talk of any but fader and 
 Hurry ; Mingo understand dat ; he no under- 
 stand t'udder. Promise you no talk about what 
 you no understand.” 
 
 “ But I do understand this, Hist ; and so I 
 must talk about it. Deerslayer as good as told 
 father all about it, in my presence ; and as no- 
 body told me not to listen, I overheard it all, at 
 I did Hurry and father’s discourse about the 
 scalps.” 
 
 “ Yery bad for pale-face to talk about scalps, 
 and very bad for young woman to hear ! Now 
 you love Hist, I know, Hetty, and so, among In- 
 jins, when love hardest never talk most.” 
 
 “ That’s not the way among white people, 
 who talk most about them they love best. I sup- 
 pose it’s because Pm only half-witted that I don’t 
 see the reason why it should be so different among 
 red people.” 
 
 “ That what Deerslayer call gift. One gift to 
 talk ; t’udder gift to hold tongue. Hold- tongue 
 your gift, among Mingoes. If Serpent want to 
 see Hist, so Hetty want to see Hurry. Good girl 
 never tell secret of friend.” 
 
 Hetty understood this appeal ; and she prom- 
 ised the Delaware girl not to make any allusion 
 to the presence of Chingachgook, or to the mo- 
 tive of his visit to the lake. 
 
 “ Maybe he get off Hurry and fader, as well as 
 Hist, if let him have his way,” whispered Wah- 
 ta !-Wah to her companion, in a confiding, flatter- 
 ing way, just as they got near enough to the en- 
 campment to hear the voices of several of their 
 own sex, who were apparently occupied in the 
 usual toils of women of their class. “ T’ink of 
 dat, Hetty, and put two, twenty finger on mouth. 
 No get friends free without Serpent do it.” 
 
 A better expedient could not have been 
 adopted to secure the silence and discretion of 
 Hetty than that which was now presented to her 
 mind. As the liberation of her father and the 
 young frontier-man was the great object of her ad- 
 venture, she felt the connection between it and the 
 services of the Delaware ; and, with an innocent 
 laugh, she nodded her head, and in the same 
 suppressed manner promised a due attention to 
 the wishes of her friend. Thus assured, Hist tar 
 ried no longer, but immediately and openly led 
 the way into the encampment of her captors. 
 
80 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 “ The great King of kings 
 Hath in the table of his law commanded, 
 
 That thou shalt do no murder. 
 
 Take heed, for he holds vengeance in his hand, 
 
 To hurl upon their heads that break his Law.” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 That the party to which Hist compulsorily 
 belonged was not one that was regularly on the 
 war-path was evident by the presence of females. 
 It was a small fragment of a tribe that had been 
 hunting and fishing within the English limits, 
 where it was found by the commencement of hos- 
 tilities, and, after passing the winter and spring 
 by living on what was strictly the property of its 
 enemies, it chose to strike a hostile blow before 
 it finally retired. There was also deep Indian 
 sagacity in the manoeuvre which had led them so 
 far into the territory of their foes. When the 
 runner arrived who announced the breaking out 
 of hostilities between the English and French — a 
 struggle that was certain to carry with it all the 
 tribes that dwelt within the influence of the re- 
 spective belligerents — this particular party of the 
 Iroquois were posted on the shores of the Oneida, 
 a lake that lies some fifty miles nearer to their 
 own frontier than that which is the scene of our 
 tale. To have fled in a direct line for the Cana- 
 das would have exposed them to the dangers of a 
 direct pursuit ; and the chiefs had determined to 
 adopt the expedient of penetrating deeper into a 
 region that had now become dangerous, in the 
 hope of being able to retire in the rear of their 
 pursuers, instead of having them on their trail. 
 The presence of the women had induced the at- 
 tempt at this ruse ; the strength of these feebler 
 members of the party being unequal to the effort 
 of escaping from the pursuit of warriors. When 
 the reader remembers the vast extent of the 
 American wilderness at that early day, he will 
 perceive that it was possible for even a tribe to 
 remain months undiscovered in particular por- 
 tions of it ; nor was the danger of encountering 
 a foe, the usual precautions being observed, as 
 great in the woods as it is on the high-seas, in a 
 time of active warfare. 
 
 The encampment being temporary, it offered 
 to the eye no more than the rude protection of a 
 bivouac, relieved in some slight degree by the in- 
 genious expedients which suggested themselves 
 to the readiness of those who passed their lives 
 amid similar scenes. One fire that had been kin- 
 dled against the roots of a living oak sufficed for 
 the whole party ; the weather being too mild to 
 require it for any purpose but cooking. Scat- 
 
 tered around this centre of attraction were som« 
 fifteen or twenty low huts — perhaps kennels 
 would be a better word — into which their differ- 
 ent owners crept at night, and which were also 
 intended to meet the exigencies of a storm. 
 These little huts were made of the branches of 
 trees, put' together with some ingenuity, and they 
 were uniformly topped with bark that had been 
 stripped from fallen trees ; of which every virgin 
 forest possesses hundreds, in all stages of decay. 
 Of furniture, they had next to none. Cooking- 
 utensils of the simplest sort were lying near the 
 fire ; a few articles of clothing were to be seen in 
 or around the huts ; rifles, horns, and pouches 
 leaned against the trees, or were suspended from 
 the lower branches ; and the carcasses of two or 
 three deer were stretched to view on the same 
 natural shambles. 
 
 As the encampment was in the midst of a 
 dense wood, the eye could not take in its tout 
 ensemble at a glance ; but hut after hut started 
 out of the gloomy picture, as one gazed about 
 him in quest of objects. There was no centre, 
 unless the fire might be so considered — no open 
 area where the possessors of this rude village 
 might congregate ; but all was dark, covert, and 
 cunning, like its owners. A few children strayed 
 from hut to hut, giving the spot a little the air of 
 domestic life ; and the suppressed laugh and low 
 voices of the women occasionally broke in upon 
 the deep stillness of the sombre forest. As for 
 the men, they either ate, slept, or examined their 
 arms. They conversed but little, and then usu- 
 ally apart, or in groups withdrawn from the fe- 
 males ; while an air of untiring, innate watch- 
 fulness and apprehension of danger seemed to be 
 blended even with their slumbers. 
 
 As the two girls neared the encampment, 
 Hetty uttered a slight exclamation on catching 
 a view of the person of her father. He was seated 
 on the ground, with his back to a tree, and Hurry 
 stood near him, indolently whittling a twig. Ap- 
 parently, they were as much at liberty as any 
 others in or about the camp ; and one unaccus- 
 tomed to Indian usages would have , mistaken 
 them for visitors, instead of supposing them to 
 be captives. Wah-ta !-Wah led her new friend 
 quite near them, and then modestly withdrew, 
 that her own presence might be no restraint on 
 her feelings. But Hetty was not sufficiently fa- 
 miliar with caresses or outward demonstrations 
 of fondness, to indulge in any outbreaking of 
 feeling. She merely approached and stood at 
 her father’s side without speaking, resembling a 
 silent statue of filial affection. The old man ex- 
 pressed neither alarm nor surprise at her sudden 
 
HETTY’S INTERVIEW WITH HER FATHER. 
 
 81 
 
 appearance. In these particulars he had caught 
 the stoicism of the Indians; well knowing that 
 there was no mqre certain mode of securing their 
 respect than by imitating their self-command. 
 Nor did the savages themselves betray the least 
 sign cf surprise at this sudden appearance of a 
 stranger among them. In a word, this arrival 
 produced much less visible sensation, though oc- 
 curring under circumstances so peculiar, than 
 would be seen in a village of higher pretensions 
 to civilization, did any ordinary traveller drive up 
 to the door of its principal inn. Still a few war- 
 riors collected, and it was evident, by the manner 
 in which they glanced at Hetty as they conversed 
 together, that she was the subject of their dis- 
 course, and probable that the reasons of her un- 
 loolced-for appearance were matters of discussion. 
 This phlegm of manner is characteristic of the 
 North American Indian — some say of his white 
 successor also- — but, in this case, much should .be 
 attributed to the peculiar situation in which the 
 party was placed. The force in the ark, the pres- 
 ence of Chingachgook excepted, was well known, 
 no tribe or body of troops was believed to be near, 
 and vigilant eyes were posted round the entire 
 lake, watching day and night, the slightest move- 
 ment of those whom it would not be exaggerated 
 now to term the besieged. 
 
 Hutter was inwardly much moved by the con- 
 duct of Hetty, though he affected so much in- 
 difference of manner. He recollected her gentle 
 appeal to him before he left the ark, and misfor- 
 tune rendered that of weight which might have 
 been forgotten amid the triumph of success. Then 
 he knew the simple, single-hearted fidelity of his 
 child, and understood why she had come, and the 
 total disregard of. self that reigned in all her acts. 
 
 “ This is not well, Hetty,” he said, deprecating 
 the consequences to the girl herself more than any 
 other evil. “ These are fierce Iroquois, and are 
 as little apt to forget an injury as a favor.” 
 
 “ Tell me, father,” returned the girl, looking 
 furtively about her, as if fearful of being over- 
 heard, “ did God let you do the cruel errand on 
 which you came ? I want much to know this, that 
 I may speak to the Indians plainly if he did not.” 
 
 “You should not have come hither, Hetty; 
 these brutes will not understand your nature or 
 your intentions ! ” 
 
 “How was it, father? V neither you nor Hurry 
 seems to have any thing that looks like scalps.” 
 
 “ If that will set your mind at peace, child, I 
 can answer you no. I had caught the young 
 creatur’ who came here with you, but her 
 screeches soon brought down upon me a troop 
 of the wild-cats that was too much for any single 
 
 Christian to withstand. If that will do you any 
 good, we are as innocent of having taken a scalp 
 this time as I make no doubt we shall also be inno- 
 cent of receiving the bounty.” 
 
 “Thank you for that, father 1 Now I can 
 speak boldly to the Iroquois, and with an easy 
 conscience. I hope Hurry, too, has not been ablfl 
 to harm any of the Indians ?” 
 
 “ Why, as to that matter, Hetty,” returned 
 the individual in question, “ you’ve put it pretty 
 much in the natyve character of the religious 
 truth. Hurry has not been able , and that is the 
 long and short of it. , I’ve seen many, squalls, old 
 fellow, both on land and on the water, but never 
 did I feel one as lively and as snappish as that 
 which come down upon us night afore last, in the 
 shape of an Indian hurrah-boys ! Why, Hetty, 
 you’re no great matter at a reason or an idee 
 that lies a little deeper than common, but you’re 
 human and have some human notions ; now, I’ll 
 just ask you to look at these circumstances. 
 Here was old Tom, your father, and myself bent 
 on a legal operation, as is to be seen in the words 
 of the law and the proclamation, thinking no 
 harm, when we were set upon by critturs that 
 were more like a pack of hungry wolves than 
 mortal savages even, and there they had us tethered 
 like two sheep in less time than it has taken me 
 to tell you the story.” 
 
 “You are free, now, Hurry,” returned Hetty, 
 glancing timidly at the fine, unfettered limbs ot 
 the young giant. “You have no cords or withes 
 to pain your arms or legs now.” 
 
 “ Not I, Hetty. Natur’ is natur’, and freedom 
 is natur’, too. My limbs have a free look, but 
 that’s pretty much the amount of it, sin’ I can’t 
 use them in the way I should like. Even these 
 trees have eyes; ay, and tongues, too ; for, was 
 the old man here or I to start one single rod beyond 
 our jail limits, sarvice would be put on the bail 
 afore we could ‘ gird up our loins ’ for a race ; 
 and, like as not, four or five rifle-bullets would be 
 travelling arter us carrying so many invitations 
 to curb our impatience. There isn’t a jail in the 
 colony as tight as this we are now in ; for I’ve tried 
 the vartue of two or three on ’em, and I know 
 the mater’ als they are made of as well as the men 
 that made ’em ; takin’ down being the next step 
 in schoolin’ to puttin’ up, in all such fabrications.” 
 
 Lest the reader should get an exaggerated 
 opinion of Hurry’s demerits from this boastful 
 and indiscreet revelation, it may be well to say 
 that his offences were confined to assaults and 
 batteries, for several of which he had been. im« 
 prisoned, when, as he had just said, he often es- 
 caped by demonstrating the flimsiness of the con. 
 
82 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 structions in which he was confined, by opening 
 for himself doors in spots where the architects had 
 neglected to place them. But Hetty had no 
 knowledge of jails, and little of the nature of 
 crime, beyond what ner unadulterated and almost 
 instinctive perceptions of right and wrong taught 
 her, and this sally of the rude being who had 
 spoken was lost upon her. She understood his 
 general meaning, however, and answered in refer- 
 ence to that alone. 
 
 “ It’s so best, Hurry,” she said. “ It is best 
 father and you should be quiet and peaceable till I 
 have spoken to the Iroquois, when all will be well 
 and happy. I don’t wish either of you to follow, 
 but leave me to myself. As soon as all is settled, 
 and you are at liberty to go back to the castle, I 
 will come and let you know it.” 
 
 Hetty spoke with so much simple earnestness, 
 seemed so confident of success, and wore so high 
 an air of moral feeling and truth, that both the 
 listeners felt more disposed to attach an impor- 
 tance to her mediation than might otherwise have 
 happened. When she manifested an intention to 
 quit them, therefore, they offered no obstacle, 
 though they saw she was about to join the group 
 of chiefs who were consulting apart, seemingly on 
 the manner and motive of her own sudden ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 When Hist — for so we love best to call her — 
 quitted her companion, she strayed near one or 
 two of the elder warriors who had shown her most 
 kindness in her captivity— the principal man of 
 whom had even offered to adopt her as his child, 
 if she would consent to become a Huron. In 
 taking this direction the shrewd girl did so to in- 
 vite inquiry. She was too well trained in the 
 habits of her people, to obtrude the opinions of 
 one of her sex and years on men and warriors ; 
 but Nature had furnished a tact and ingenuity 
 that enabled her to attract the attention she de- 
 sired, without wounding the pride of those whom 
 it was her duty to defer to and respect. Even 
 her affected indifference stimulated curiosity ; 
 and Hetty had hardly reached the side of her 
 father before the Delaware girl was brought with- 
 in the circle of the warriors by a secret but sig- 
 nificant gesture. Here she was questioned as to 
 the presence of her companion, and the motives 
 that had brought her to the camp. This was all that 
 Hist desired. She explained the manner in which 
 she had detected the weakness of Hetty’s reason, 
 rather exaggerating than lessening the deficiency 
 in her intellect ; and then she related, in general 
 terms, the object of the girl in venturing among 
 her enemies. The effect was all that the speaker 
 expected ; her account investing the person and 
 
 character of their visitor with a sacrednesa and 
 respect that she well knew would prove her pro- 
 tection. As soon as her own purpose was at- 
 tained, Hist withdrew to a distance, where, with fe- 
 male consideration and a sisterly tenderness, she 
 set about the preparation of a meal, to be offered to 
 her new friend as soon as the latter might be at 
 liberty to partake of it. While thus occupied, 
 however, the ready girl in no degree relaxed in 
 her watchfulness, noting every change of counte- 
 nance among the chiefs, every movement of 
 Hetty, and the smaller occurrences that could be 
 likely to affect her own interests or that of her 
 new friend. 
 
 As Hetty approached the chiefs, they opened 
 their little circle with an ease and deference of 
 manner that would have done credit to men of 
 more courtly origin. A fallen tree lay near, and 
 the oldest of the warriors made a quiet sign for 
 the girl to be seated on it, taking his place at her 
 side with the gentleness of a father. The others 
 arranged themselves around the two with grave 
 dignity ; and then the girl, who had sufficient ob- 
 servation to perceive that such a course was ex- 
 pected of her, began to reveal the object of her 
 visit. The moment she opened her mouth to 
 speak, however, the old chief gave a gentle sign 
 for her to forbear, said a few words to one of his 
 juniors, and then waited in silent patience until 
 the latter had summoned Hist to the party. This 
 interruption proceeded from the chiefs having 
 discovered that there existed a necessity for an 
 interpreter ; few of the Hurons present under- 
 standing the English language, and they but im- 
 perfectly. 
 
 Wah-ta !-Wah was not sorry to be called upon 
 to be present at the interview, and least of all in 
 the character in which she was now wanted. She 
 was aware of the hazards she ran in attempting 
 to deceive one or two of the party ; but was none 
 the less resolved to use every means that offered, 
 and to practise every artifice that an Indian edu- 
 cation could supply, to conceal the facts of the 
 vicinity of her betrothed, and of the errand on 
 which he had come. One unpractised in the ex- 
 pedients and opinions of savage life, would not 
 have suspected the readiness of invention, the 
 wariness of action, the high resolution, the noble 
 impulses, the deep self-devotion, and the feminine 
 disregard of self, where the affections were con- 
 cerned, that lay concealed beneath the demure 
 looks, the mild eyes, and the sunny smiles of this 
 young Indian beauty. As she approached them, 
 the grim old warriors regarded her with pleasure, 
 for they had a secret pride in the hope of engraft, 
 ing so rare a scion on the stock of their own na. 
 
APPLICATION OF CHRISTIAN PRINCIPLES. 
 
 83 
 
 tion ; adoption being as regularly practised and 
 as distinctly recognized among the tribes of Amer- 
 ica as it ever had been among those nations that 
 submit to the sway of the civil law. 
 
 As soon as Hist was seated by the side of 
 Hetty, the old chief desired her to ask “ the fair, 
 young pale-face ” what had brought her among 
 the Iroquois, and what they could do to serve her. 
 
 “ Tell them, Hist, who I am — Thomas Hutter’s 
 youngest daughter ; Thomas Hutter, the oldest 
 of their two prisoners ; he who owns the castle 
 and the ark, and who has the best right to be 
 thought the owner of these hills, and that lake, 
 since he has dwelt so long, and trapped so long, 
 and fished so long, among them. They’ll know 
 whom you mean by Thomas Hutter, if you tell 
 them that. And then tell them that I’ve come 
 nere to convince them they ought not to harm fa- 
 ther and Hurry, but let them go in peace, and to 
 treat them as brothers, rather than as enemies. 
 Now tell them all this plainly, Hist, and fear noth- 
 ing for yourself or me ; God will protect us.” 
 
 Wah-ta !-Wah did as the other desired; tak- 
 ing care to render the words of her friend as liter- 
 ally as possible into the Itoquois tongue, a lan- 
 guage she used with a readiness almost equal to 
 that with which she spoke her own. The chiefs 
 aeard this opening explanation with grave deco- 
 rum ; the two who had a little knowledge of Eng- 
 lish intimating their satisfaction with the inter- 
 preter by furtive but significant glances of the 
 eyes. 
 
 “ And now, Hist,” continued Hetty, as soon as 
 it was intimated to her that she might proceed ; 
 “ and now, Hist, I wish you to tell these red men, 
 word for word, what I am about to say. Tell 
 them, first, that father and Hurry came here with 
 an intention to take as many scalps as they could ; 
 for the wicked governor and the province have 
 offered money for scalps ; whether of warriors or 
 women, men or children ; and the love of gold 
 was too strong for their hearts to withstand it. 
 Tell them this, dear Hist, just as you have heard 
 it from me, word for word.” 
 
 Wah-ta !-Wah hesitated about rendering this 
 speech as literally as had been desired ; but, de- 
 tecting the intelligence of those who understood 
 English, and apprehending even a greater knowl- 
 edge than they actually possessed, she found her- 
 self compelled to comply. Contrary to what a 
 civilized man would have expected, the admission 
 )f the motives and of the errands of their pris- 
 oners produced no visible effect on either the 
 countenances or the feelings of the listeners. 
 They probably considered the act meritorious, 
 and that which neither of them would have hesi- 
 
 tated to perform in his own person, he would not 
 be apt to censure in another. 
 
 “ And now, Hist,” resumed Hetty, as soon as 
 she perceived that her first speeches were under- 
 stood by the chiefs, “ you can tell them more. 
 They know that father and Hurry did not suc- 
 ceed ; and, therefore, they can bear them no 
 grudge for any harm that has been done. If they 
 had slain their children and wives, it would not 
 alter the matter ; and I’m not certain that what 
 I am about to tell them would not have more 
 weight had there been mischief done. But ask 
 them first, Hist, if they know there is a God who 
 reigns over the whole earth, and is ruler and chief 
 of all who live, let them be red or white, or what 
 color they may ? ” 
 
 Wah-ta !-Wah looked a little surprised at this 
 question ; for the idea of the Great Spirit is sel- 
 dom long absent from the mind of an Indian girl. 
 She put the question as literally as possible, how- 
 ever, and received a grave answer in the affirma- 
 tive. 
 
 “ This is right,” continued Hetty, “ and my 
 duty will now be light. This Great Spirit, as you 
 call our God, has caused a book to be written, 
 that we call a Bible ; and in this book have been 
 set down all his commandments, and his holy 
 will and pleasure, and the rules by which all men 
 are to live, and directions how to govern the 
 thoughts even, and the wishes, and the will. 
 Here, this is one of these holy books, and you 
 must tell the chiefs what I am about to read to 
 them from its sacred pages.” 
 
 As Hetty concluded, she reverently unrolled a 
 small English Bible from its envelope of coarse 
 calico ; treating the volume with the sort of ex- 
 ternal respect that a Romanist would be apt to 
 show to a religious relic. As she slowly pro- 
 ceeded in her task, the grim warriors watched 
 each movement with riveted eyes ; and, when they 
 saw the little volume appear, a slight expression 
 of surprise escaped one or two of them. But 
 Hetty held it out toward them in triumph, as if 
 she expected the sight would produce a visible 
 miracle ; and then, without betraying either sur- 
 prise or mortification at the stoicism of the In- 
 dians, she turned eagerly to her new friend in or- 
 der to renew the discourse. 
 
 “ This is the sacred volume, Hist,” she said, 
 “ and these words, and lines, and verses, and 
 chapters, all came from God ! ” 
 
 “ Why Great Spirit no send book to Injin 
 too ? ” demanded Hist, with the directness of a 
 mind that was totally unsophisticated. 
 
 “ Why ? ” answered Hetty, a little bewildered 
 by a question so unexpected. “ Why * — Ah ! 
 
84 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 you know the Indians don’t know how to 
 read.” 
 
 If Hist was not satisfied with this explanation, 
 she did not deem the point of sufficient impor- 
 tance to be pressed. Simply bending her body, 
 in gentle admission of the truth of what she heard, 
 she sat patiently awaiting the further arguments 
 of the pale-face enthusiast. 
 
 “You can tell these chiefs that, throughout 
 this book, men are ordered to forgive their ene- 
 mies ; to treat them as they would brethren ; and 
 never to injure their fellow-creatures, more es- 
 pecially On account of revenge, or any evil passion. 
 Do you think you can tell them this, so that they 
 will understand it, Hist ? ” 
 
 “ Tell him well enough ; but he no very easy 
 to understand.” 
 
 Hist then conveyed the ideas of Hetty in the 
 best manner she could to the attentive Indians ; 
 who heard her words with some such surprise as 
 an American of our own times would be apt to 
 betray at a suggestion that the great modern but 
 vacillating ruler of things human, public opinion, 
 might be wrong. One or two of their number, 
 however, having met with missionaries, said a few 
 words in explanation, and then the group gave all 
 its attention to the communications that were to 
 follow. Before Hetty resumed, she inquired 
 earnestly of Hist if the chiefs had understood her, 
 and, receiving an evasive answer, was fain to be 
 satisfied. 
 
 “ I will now read to the warriors some of the 
 verses that it is good for them to know,” con- 
 tinued the girl, whose manner grew more solemn 
 and earnest as she proceeded; “and they will re- 
 member that they are the words of the Great 
 Spirit. First, then, ye are commanded to 1 Love 
 thy neighbor as thyself? Tell them that , dear 
 Hist.” 
 
 “Neighbor for Injin no mean pale-face,” an- 
 swered the Delaware girl, with more decision than 
 she had hitherto thought it necessary to use. 
 “ Neighbor mean Iroquois for Iroquois, Mohican 
 for Mohican, pale-face for pale-face. No need tell 
 chief any thing else:” 
 
 “You forget, Hist, these are the words of the 
 Great Spirit, and the chiefs must obey them as 
 well as others. Here is another commandment : 
 ‘ Whosoever shall smite thee on the right cheelc , turn 
 to him the other also? ” 
 
 “ What that mean ? ” demanded Hist, with the 
 quickness of lightning. 
 
 Hetty explained that it was an order not to 
 resent injuries, but Tather to submit to receive 
 fresh wrongs from the offender. 
 
 “And hear this too, Hist,” she added, iil Love 
 
 your enemies , bless them that curse you , do good to 
 them that hate you , and pray for them which de- 
 spitefully use you and persecute you? ” 
 
 By this time Hetty had become excited ; her 
 eye gleamed with the earnestness of her feelings, 
 her cheeks flushed, and her voice, usually so low 
 and modulated, became stronger and more im- 
 pressive. With the Bible she had been early 
 made familiar by her mother ; and she now turned 
 from passage to passage with surprising rapidity, 
 taking care to cull such verses as taught the sub- 
 lime lessons of Christian charity and Christian 
 forgiveness. To translate half she said in her 
 pious earnestness, Wah-ta!-Wah would have 
 found impracticable, had she made the effort; 
 but wonder held her tongue-tied, equally with the 
 chiefs ; and the young, simple-minded enthusiast 
 had fairly become exhausted with her own efforts, 
 before the other opened her mouth again to utter 
 a syllable. Then, indeed, the Delaware girl gave 
 a brief translation of the substance of what had 
 been both read and said, confining herself to one 
 or two of the more striking of the verses, those 
 that had struck her own imagination as the most 
 paradoxical, and which certainly would have been 
 the most applicable to the case, could the unin- 
 structed minds of the listeners embrace the great 
 moral truths they conveyed. 
 
 It will be scarcely necessary to tell the reader 
 the effect* that such novel duties would be likely 
 to produce among a group of Indian warriors, 
 with whom it was a species of religious principle 
 never to fbrget a benefit or to forgive an injury. 
 Fortunately, the previous explanations of Hist 
 had prepared the minds of the Hurons for some- 
 thing extravagant; and most of that which to 
 them seemed inconsistent and paradoxical was 
 accounted for by the fact that the speaker pos- 
 sessed a mind that was constituted differently 
 from those of most of the human race. Still 
 there were one or two old men who had heard 
 similar doctrines from the missionaries, and they 
 felt a desire to occupy an idle moment by pursu- 
 ing a subject they found so curious. 
 
 “ This is the Good Book of the pale-faces,” 
 observed one of these chiefs, taking the volume 
 from the unresisting hand of Hetty, who gazed 
 anxiously at his face, while he turned the leaves^ 
 as if she expected to witness some visible results 
 from the circumstance. “This is the law by 
 which my white brethren profess to live?” 
 
 Hist, to whom this question was addressed, if 
 it might be considered as addressed to any one 
 in particular, answered simply in the affirmative ; 
 adding that both the French of the Canadas and 
 | the Yengeese of the British provinces equally ad- 
 
A HURON CHIEF’S LOGIC. 
 
 85 
 
 mitted its authority, and affected to revere its 
 principles. 
 
 “ Tell my young sister,” said the Huron, look- 
 ing directly at Hist, “ that I will open my mouth 
 and say a few words.” 
 
 “ The Iroquois chief go to speak — my pale- 
 face friend listen,” said Hist. 
 
 “I rejoice to hear it!” exclaimed Hetty. 
 M God has touched his heart, and he will now let 
 Either and Hurry go ! ” 
 
 “This is the pale-face law,” resumed the 
 chief. “It tells him to do good to them that 
 hurt him ; when his brother asks him for his rifle, 
 to give him the powder-horn too. Such is the 
 pale-face law ? ” 
 
 **Not so — not so,” answered Hetty earnestly, 
 when these words had been interpreted. “ There is 
 not a word about rifles in the whole book ; and pow- 
 der and bullets give offence to the Great Spirit.” 
 
 “ Why, then, does the pale-face use them ? 
 If he is ordered to give double to him that asks only 
 for one thing, why does he take double from the poor 
 Indians, who asks for no thing ? He come3 from 
 beyond the rising sun, with his book in his hand, 
 and he teaches the red man to read it ; but why 
 does he forget himself all it says ? When the In- 
 dian gives, he is never satisfied ; and now he of- 
 fers gold for the scalps of our women and children, 
 though he calls us beasts if we take the scalp of a 
 warrior killed in open war. My name is Rivenoak.” 
 
 When Hetty had got this formidable question 
 fairly presented to her mind in the translation, 
 and Hist did her duty with more than usual readi- 
 ness on this occasion, it scarcely need be said 
 that she was sorely perplexed. Abler heads than 
 that of this poor girl have frequently been puzzled 
 by questions of a similar drift ; and it is not sur- 
 prising that, with all her own earnestness and sin- 
 cerity, she did not know what answer to make. 
 
 “What shall I tell them, Hist? ” she asked 
 imploringly; “I know that all I have read from 
 the book is true ; and yet it wouldn’t seem so, 
 would it, by the conduct of those to whom the 
 book was given ? ” 
 
 “ Give -’em pale-faee reason,” returned Hist, 
 ironically; “that always good for one side; 
 though be bad for t’other.” 
 
 “No, no, Hist, there can’t be two sides to 
 truth — and yet it does seem strange ! I’m certain 
 I have read the verses right, and no one would 
 be so wicked as to print the word of God wrong. 
 That can never be, Hist.” 
 
 “Well, to poor Injin girl it seem every thing 
 tan be to pale-faces,” returned the other, coolly. 
 “ One time ’ey say white, and one time ’ey say 
 black. Why, never can be ? ” 
 
 Hetty was more and more embarrassed, until, 
 overcome with the apprehension that she had 
 failed in her object, and that the lives of her 
 father and Hurry would be the forfeit of somo 
 blunder of her own, she burst into tears. From 
 that moment the manner of Hist lost all its irony 
 and cool indifference, and she became the fond, 
 caressing friend again. Throwing her arms around 
 the afflicted girl, she attempted to soothe her sor 
 rows by the scarcely ever failing remedy of female 
 sympathy. 
 
 “ Stop cry — no cry,” she said, wiping the tears 
 from the face of Hetty, as she would have per- 
 formed the same office for a child, and stopping 
 to press her, occasionally, to her own warm bosom 
 with the affection of a sister ; “ why you so 
 trouble ? You no make he book, if he be wrong ; 
 and you no make he pale-face, if he be wicked. 
 There wicked red man and wicked white man — 
 no color all good — no color all wicked. Chiefs 
 know that well enough.” 
 
 Hetty soon recovered from this sudden burst 
 of grief, and then her mind reverted to the pur- 
 pose of her visit, with its single-hearted earnest- 
 ness. Perceiving that the grim-looking chiefs 
 were still standing around her, in grave attention, 
 she hoped that another effort to convince them of 
 the right might be successful 
 
 “ Listen, Hist,” she said, struggling to suppress 
 her sobs, and to speak distinctly ; “ tell the chiefs 
 that it matters not what the wicked do — right is 
 right — the words of the Great Spirit are the words 
 of the Great Spirit — and no one can go harmless 
 for doing an evil act, because another has done it 
 before him ! ‘ Render good for evil,’ says this 
 
 book ; and that is the law for the red man as well 
 as for the white man.” 
 
 “ Never hear such law among Delaware, or 
 among Iroquois,” answered Hist, soothingly. “ No 
 good to tell chiefs any such law as dot. Tell ’em 
 somet’ing they believe.” 
 
 Hist was about to proceed, notwithstanding, 
 when a tap . on the shoulder, from the finger of 
 the oldest chief, caused her to look up. She then 
 perceived that one of the warriors had left the 
 group, and was already returning to it with Hut- 
 ter and Hurry. Understanding that the last two 
 were to become parties in the inquiry, she became 
 mute, with the unhesitating obedience of an Indian 
 woman. In a few seconds the prisoners stood 
 face to face with the principal men of the captors. 
 
 “ Daughter,” said the senior chief to the young 
 Delaware, “ ask this graybeard why he came into 
 our camp ? ” 
 
 The question was put by Hist, in her own im- 
 perfect English, but in a way that was easy to be 
 
86 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 understood. Hutter was too stern and obdurate, 
 by nature, to shrink from the consequences of any 
 of his acts, and he was also too familiar with the 
 opinions of the savages not to understand that 
 nothing was to be gained by equivocation, or an 
 unmanly dread of their anger. Without hesitat- 
 ing, therefore, he avowed the purpose with which 
 he had landed, merely justifying it by the fact 
 that the government of the province had bid high 
 for scalps. This frank avowal was received by the 
 Iroquois with evident satisfaction, not so much, 
 however, on account of the advantage it gave 
 them in a moral point of view, as by proving that 
 they had captured a man worthy of occupying 
 their thoughts, and of becoming a subject of their 
 revenge. Hurry, when interrogated, confessed 
 the truth, though he would have been more dis- 
 posed to concealment than his sterner companion, 
 did the circumstances very well admit of its adop- 
 tion. But he had tact enough to discover that 
 equivocation would be useless at that moment, 
 and he made a merit of necessity by imitating a 
 frankness which, in the case of Hutter, was the 
 offspring of habits of indifference, acting on a dis- 
 position that was always ruthless and reckless of 
 personal consequences. 
 
 As soon as the chiefs had received the an- 
 swers to their questions they walked away in si- 
 lence, like men who deemed the matter disposed 
 of, all Hetty’s dogmas being thrown away on be- 
 ings trained in violence from infancy to manhood. 
 Hetty and Hist were now left alone with Hutter 
 and Hurry, no visible restraint being placed on 
 tfie movements of either ; though all four, in fact, 
 were vigilantly and unceasingly watched. As re- 
 spects the men, care was had to prevent them 
 from getting possession of any of the rifles that 
 lay scattered about, their own included ; and there 
 all open manifestations of watchfulness ceased. 
 But they, who were so experienced in Indian 
 practices, knew too well how great was the dis- 
 tance between appearances and reality, to become 
 the dupes of this seeming carelessness. Although 
 both thought incessantly on the means of escape, 
 and this without concert, each was aware of the 
 uselessness of attempting any project of the sort 
 that was not deeply laid and promptly executed. 
 They had been long enough in the encampment, 
 and were sufficiently observant to have ascer- 
 tained that Hist, also, was a sort of captive ; and, 
 presuming on the circumstance, Hutter spoke in 
 her presence more openly than he might other- 
 wise have thought it prudent to do ; inducing 
 Hurry to be equally unguarded by his example. 
 
 “ I’ll not blame you, Hetty, for coming on this 
 errand which was well meant, if not very wisely 
 
 planned,” commenced the father, seating himself 
 by the side of his daughter, and taking her hand ; 
 a sign of affection that this rude being was accus- 
 tomed to manifest to this particular child ; “ but 
 preaching and the Bible are not the means to turn 
 an Indian from his ways. Has Deerslayer sent 
 any message ; or has he any scheme by wnich he 
 thinks to get us free ? ” 
 
 “ Ay , that’s the substance of it ? ” put in Hur- 
 ry ; “ if you can help us, gal, to half a mile of 
 freedom, or even a good start of a short quarter, 
 I’ll answer for the rest. Perhaps the old man 
 may want a little more, but for one of my height 
 and years that will meet all objections.” 
 
 Hetty looked distressed, turning her eyes from 
 one to the other ; but she had no answer to give 
 to the question of the reckless Hurry. 
 
 “ Father,” she said, “ neither Deerslayer nor 
 Judith knew of my coming, until I had left the 
 ark. They are afraid the Iroquois will make a 
 raft, and try to get off to the hut, and think more 
 of defending that , than of coming to aid you.” 
 
 “No — no — no,” said Hist, hurriedly, though 
 in a low voice, and with her face bent toward the 
 earth, in order to conceal from those whom she 
 knew to be watching them the fact of her speak- 
 ing at all. “ No, no, no, Deerslayer different man. 
 He no t’ink of defending ’self, with friend in dan- 
 ger. Help one another, and all get to hut.” 
 
 “This sounds well, old Tom,” said Hurry, 
 winking and laughing, though he too used the 
 precaution to speak low. “ Give me a ready-wit- 
 ted squaw for a fri’nd, and though I’ll not down- 
 right defy an Iroquois, I think I would defy the 
 devil.” 
 
 “No talk loud,” said Hist; “some Iroquois 
 got Yengeese tongue, and all got Yengeese ear.” 
 
 “ Have we a friend in you, young woman ? ” 
 inquired Hutter, with an increasing interest in 
 the conference. “ If so, you may calculate on a 
 solid reward ; and nothing will be easier than to 
 send you to your own tribe, if we can once fairly 
 get you off with us to the castle. Give us the ark 
 and the canoes, and we can command the lake, 
 spite of all the savages in the Canadas. Nothing 
 but artillery could drive us out of the castle, if 
 we can get back to it.” 
 
 “ S’pose ’ey come ashore to take scalp ? ” re- 
 torted Hist, with cool irony, at which the girl ap- 
 peared to be more expert than is common for her 
 sex. 
 
 “ Ay, ay — that was a mistake ; but there is 
 little use in lamentations, and less still, young 
 woman, in flings.” 
 
 “ Father,” said Hetty, “ Judith thinks of break- 
 ing open the big chest, in hopes of finding some. 
 
THE THREE ISLANDERS. 
 
 87 
 
 thing iu that which may buy your freedom of the 
 savages.” 
 
 A dark look came over Hutter, at the an- 
 nouncement of this fact, and he muttered his dis- 
 satisfaction in a way to render it intelligible 
 enough. 
 
 “ What for no break open chest ? ” put in 
 Hist. “ Life sweeter than old chest — scalp sweet- 
 er than old chest. If no tell darter to break him 
 open, Wah-ta !-Wah no help him to run away.” 
 
 “ Ye know not what ye ask — ye are but silly 
 girls, and the wisest way for ye both is to speak of 
 what ye understand, and to speak of nothing else. 
 — I little like this cold neglect of the savages, Hur- 
 ry; it’s a proof that they think of something se- 
 rious, and, if we are to do any thing, we must do 
 it soon. Can we count on this young woman, 
 think you ? ” 
 
 “ Listen,” said Hist, quickly, and with an ear- 
 nestness that proved how much her feelings were 
 concerned ; “ Wah-ta !-Wah no Iroquois — all over 
 Delaware — got Delaware heart — Delaware feeling. 
 She prisoner, too. One prisoner help t’udder pris- 
 oner. No good to talk more, now. Darter stay 
 with fader — Wah-ta !-Wah come and see friend — 
 all look right — then tell what he do.” 
 
 This was said in a low voice, but distinctly, 
 and in a manner to make an impression. As soon 
 as it was uttered, the girl arose and left the 
 group, walking composedly toward the hut she 
 occupied, as if she had no further interest in what 
 might pass between the pale-faces. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 “ She speaks much of her father ; says she hears 
 There’s tricks i’ the world ; and hems, and heats her heart ; 
 Spurns enviously at straws : speaks things in doubt, 
 
 That carry but half sense ; her speech is nothing, 
 
 Tet the unsuspected use of it doth move 
 The hearers to collection. 1 ’ 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 We left the occupants of the castle and the 
 ark buried in sleep. Once or twice, in the course 
 of the night, it is true, Deerslayer or the Dela- 
 ware arose and looked out upon the tranquil lake, 
 when, finding all safe, each returned to his pallet, 
 and slept like a man who was not easily deprived 
 of his natural rest. At the first signs of the dawn 
 the former arose, however, and made his personal 
 arrangements for the day ; though his companion, 
 whose nights had not been tranquil or without 
 disturbance of late, continued on his blanket un- 
 til the sun had fairly risen. Judith, too, was later 
 
 than common that morning, for the earlier hours 
 of the night had brought her little of either re- 
 freshment or sleep. But ere the sun had shown 
 himself over the eastern hills, these too were up 
 and afoot ; even the tardy, in that region, seldom 
 remaining on their pallets after the appearance 
 of the great luminary. 
 
 Chingachgook was in the act of arranging hia 
 forest toilet, when Deerslayer entered the cabin 
 of the ark, and threw him a few coarse but light 
 summer vestments that belonged to Hutter. 
 
 “ Judith hath given me them for your use, 
 chief,” said the latter, as he cast the jacket and 
 trousers at the feet of the Indian ; “ for its ag’in 
 all prudence and caution to be seen in your war- 
 dress and paint. Wash off all them fiery streaks 
 from your cheeks, put on these garments, and 
 here is a hat, such as it is, that will give you an 
 awful oncivilized sort of civilization, as- the mis- 
 sionaries call it. Remember that Hist is at hand, 
 and what we do for the maiden must be done 
 while we are doing for others. I know it’s ag’in 
 your gifts and your natur’ to wear clothes unless 
 they are cut and carried in a red man’s fashion, 
 but make a vartue of necessity, and put these on 
 at once, even if they do rise a little in your throat.” 
 
 Chingachgook, or the Serpent, eyed the vest- 
 ments with strong disgust ; but he saw the use- 
 fulness of the disguise, if not its absolute neces- 
 sity. Should the Iroquois discover a red man in 
 or about the castle, it might indeed place them 
 more on their guard, and give their suspicions a 
 direction toward their female captive. Any thing 
 was better than a failure, as it regarded his be- 
 trothed, and, after turning the different garments 
 round and round, examining them with a 6pecies 
 of grave irony, affecting to draw them on in a way 
 that defeated itself, and otherwise manifesting the 
 reluctance of a young savage to confine his limbs 
 in the usual appliances of civilized life, the chief 
 submitted to the directions of his companion, and 
 finally stood forth, so far as the eye could detect, 
 a red man in color alone. Little was to be appre- 
 hended from this last peculiarity, however, the 
 distance from the shore and the want of glasses 
 preventing any very close scrutiny, and Deerslay- 
 er himself, though of a brighter and fresher tint, 
 had a countenance that was burned by the sun to 
 a hue scarcely less red than that of his Mohican 
 companion. The awkwardness of the Delaware, 
 in his new attire, caused his friend to smile more 
 than once that day, but he carefully abstained 
 from the use of any of those jokes which would 
 have been bandied among white men on such an 
 occasion ; the habits of a chief, the dignity of a 
 warrior on his first path, and the gravity of the 
 
88 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 circumstances in which they were placed, uniting 
 to render so much levity out of season. 
 
 The meeting at the morning meal of the three 
 inlanders, if we may use the term, was silent, 
 grave, and thoughtful. Judith showed by her 
 looks that she had passed an unquiet night, while 
 the two men had the future before them, with its 
 unseen and unknown events. A few words of 
 courtesy passed between Deerslayer and the girl 
 in the course of the breakfast, but no allusion 
 was made to their situation. At length Judith, 
 whose heart was full, and whose novel feelings 
 disposed her to entertain sentiments more gentle 
 and tender than common, introduced the subject, 
 and this in a way to show how much of her 
 thoughts it had occupied in the course of the last 
 sleepless night. 
 
 “ It would be dreadful, Deerslayer,” the girl 
 abruptly exclaimed, “ should any thing serious be- 
 fall my father and Hetty! We cannot remain 
 quietly here and leave them in the hands of the 
 Iroquois, without bethinking us of some means 
 of serving them.” 
 
 “I’m ready, Judith, to sarve them, and all 
 others who are in trouble, could the way to do it 
 be pointed out. It’s no trifling matter to fall into 
 red-skin hands, when men set out on an a’r’nd 
 like that which took Hutter and Hurry ashore ; 
 that I know as well as another ; and I wouldn’t 
 wish my worst inimy in such a strait, much less 
 them with whom I’ve journeyed, and eat, and 
 slept. Have you any scheme that you would like 
 to have the Sarpent and me indivor to carry out ? ” 
 
 “ I know of no other means to release the 
 prisoners than by bribing the Iroquois. They are 
 not proof against presents ; and we might offer 
 enough, perhaps, to make them think it better to 
 carry away what to them will be rich gifts than 
 to carry away poor prisoners ; if, indeed, they 
 should carry them away at all ! ” 
 
 “ This is well enough, Judith ; yes, it’s well 
 enough, if the inimy is to be bought, and we can 
 find articles to make the purchase with. Your 
 father has a convenient lodge, and it is most cun- 
 ningly placed ; though it doesn’t seem overstocked, 
 with riches that will be likely to buy his ransom. 
 There’s the piece he calls Kill-deer might count 
 for something, and I understand there’s a keg of 
 powder about, which might be a make-weight, 
 sartain ; and yet two able-bodied men are not to 
 be bought off for a trifle ; besides — ” 
 
 “ Besides what ? ” demanded Judith, impatient- 
 ly, observing that the other hesitated to proceed, 
 probably from a reluctance to distress her. 
 
 “ Why, Judith, the Frenchers offer bounties 
 as well as our own side; and the price of two 
 
 scalps would purchase a keg of powder and a 
 rifle ; though I’ll not say one of the latter alto- 
 gether as good as Kill-deer there, which your 
 father va’nts as uncommon, and onequalled, like. 
 But fair powder, and a pretty sartain rifle ; then 
 the red men are not the expartest in fire-arms, 
 and don’t always know the difference atwixt that 
 which is ra’al, and that which is seeming.” 
 
 “ This is horrible ! ” muttered the girl, struck 
 by the homely manner in which her companion 
 was accustomed to state his facts. “But you 
 overlook my own clothes, Deerslayer ; and they, I 
 think, might go far with the women of the Iro- 
 quois.” 
 
 “ No doubt they would ; no doubt they would, 
 Judith,” returned the other, looking at her keen- 
 ly, as if he would ascertain whether she were 
 really capable of making such a sacrifice. “ But 
 are you sartain, gal, you could find it in your 
 heart to part with your own»finery for such a pur- 
 pose? Many is the man who has thought he 
 was valiant till danger stared him in the face ; I’ve 
 known them too that consaited they were kind 
 and ready to give away all they had to the poor, 
 when they’ve been listening to other people’s 
 hard-heartedness, but whose fists have clinched as 
 tight as the riven hickory, when it came to down- 
 right offerings of their own. Besides, Judith, 
 you’re handsome — oncommon in that way, one 
 might obsarve, and do no harm to the truth — and 
 they that have beauty like to have that which 
 will adorn it. Are you sartain you could find it 
 in your heart to part with your own finery ? ” 
 
 The soothing allusion to the personal charms 
 of the girl was well-timed, to counteract the effect 
 produced by the distrust that the young man ex- 
 pressed of Judith’s devotion to her filial duties. 
 Had another said as much as Deerslayer, the 
 compliment would most probably have been over- 
 looked, in the indignation awakened by the 
 doubts; but even the unpolished sincerity, that 
 so often made this simple-minded hunter bare his 
 thoughts, had a charm for the girl; and, while 
 she colored, and for an instant her eyes flashed 
 fire, she could not find it in her heart to be really 
 angry with one whose very soul seemed truth and 
 manly kindness. Look her reproaches she did;, 
 but, conquering the desire to retort, she succeeded 
 in answering in a mild and friendly manner. 
 
 “ You must keep all your favorable opinions 
 for the Delaware girls, Deerslayer, if you serious- 
 ly think thus of those of your own color,” she 
 said, affecting to laugh. “But, try me; if you 
 find that I regret either ribbon or feather, silk ©i 
 muslin, then may you think what you please of 
 my heart, and say what you think.” 
 
TOM BUTTER’S CHEST. 
 
 89 
 
 “ That’s justice ! The rarest thing to find on 
 nrth is a truly j ust man. So says Tamenund, the 
 wisest prophet of the Delawares ; and so all 
 must think that have occasion to see, and talk, 
 and act among mankind. — I love a just man, Sar- 
 pent ; his eyes are never covered with darkness 
 toward his inemies, while they are all sunshine 
 and brightness toward his fri’nds. He uses the 
 reason that God has given him, and he uses it 
 with' a feelin’ of his being ordered to look at, and 
 to consider things as they are , and not as he 
 xoants them to be. It’s easy enough to find men 
 who call themselves just ; but it’s wonderfully on- 
 common to find them that are the very thing in 
 fact. — How often have I seen Indians, gal, who 
 believed they were lookin’ into a matter agreeable 
 to the will of the Great Spirit, when, in truth, 
 they were only striving to act up to their own 
 will and pleasure, and this, half of the time, with 
 a temptation to go wrong, that could no more be 
 seen by themselves, than the stream that runs in 
 the next valley can be seen by us through yonder 
 mountain ; though any looker-on might have dis- 
 covered it as plainly as we can discover the 
 parch that are swimming around this hut.” 
 
 “Very true, Deerslayer,” rejoined Judith, los- 
 ing every trace of displeasure in a bright smile, 
 “ very true ; and I hope to see you act on this 
 love of justice, in all matters in which I am con- 
 cerned. Above all, I hope you will judge for 
 yotirself, and not believe every evil story that a 
 prating idler, like Hurry Harry, may have to tell, 
 that goes to touch the good name of any young 
 woman who may not happen to have the same 
 opinions of his face and person that the bluster- 
 ing gallant has of himself.” 
 
 “ Hurry Harry’s idees do not pass for gospel 
 with me, Judith ; but even worse than he may 
 have eyes and ears,” returned the other, gravely. 
 
 “ Enough of this ! ” exclaimed Judith, with 
 flashing eye, and a flush that mounted to her 
 temples ; “ and more of my father and his ran- 
 som. ’Tis as you say, Deerslayer ; the Indians 
 will not be likely to give up their prisoners with- 
 out a heavier bribe than my clothes can offer, 
 and father’s rifle and powder. There is the 
 chest.” 
 
 “ Ay, there is the chist, as you say, Judith ; 
 and when the question gets to be between a se- 
 cret and a scalp, I should think most men would 
 prefar keeping the last. Did your father ever 
 give you any downright command cOnsarning 
 that chist ? ” 
 
 “ Never. He has always appeared to think 
 its locks, and its steel bands, and its strength, its 
 best protection.” 
 
 “ ’Tis a rare chist, and altogether of curious 
 build,” returned Deerslayer, rising and approach- 
 ing the thing in question, on which he seated 
 himself, with a view to examine it with greater 
 ease. — “ Ckingachgook, this is no wood that comes 
 of any forest that you or I have ever trailed 
 through ! ’Tisn’t the black walnut ; and yet it’s 
 quite as comely, if not more so, did the smoke 
 and the treatment give it fair play.” 
 
 The Delaware drew near, felt of the wood, 
 examined its grain, endeavored to indent the sur- 
 face with a nail, and passed his hand curiously 
 over the steel bands, the heavy padlocks, and the 
 other novel peculiarities of the massive box. 
 
 “No — nothing like this grows in these re- 
 gions,” resumed Deerslayer ; “ I’ve seen all the 
 oaks, both the maples, the elms, the basswood, 
 all the walnuts, the butternuts, and every tree 
 that has a substance and color, wrought into some 
 form or other ; but never have I before seen such a 
 wood as this ! — Judith, the chist itself would buy 
 your father’s freedom ; or Iroquois curiosity isn’t 
 as strong as red-skin curiosity, in general ; espe- 
 cially in the matter of woods.” 
 
 “ The purchase might be cheaper made, per- 
 haps, Deerslayer. The chest is full, and it would 
 be better to part with half than to part with the 
 whole. Besides, father — I know not why — but 
 father values that chest highly.” 
 
 “ He Would seem to prize what it holds more 
 than the chist itself, judging by the manner in 
 which he treats the outside and secures the in- 
 side. Here are three locks, Judith ; is there no 
 key ? ” 
 
 “ I’ve never seen one ; and yet key there must 
 be, since Hetty told us she had often seen the 
 chest opened.” 
 
 “ Keys no more lie in the air, or float on the 
 water, than humans, gal ; if there is a key, there 
 must be a place in which it is kept.” 
 
 “ That is true, and it might not be difficult to 
 find it, did we dare to search ; ” 
 
 “ This is for you, Judith ; it is altogether for 
 you. The chist is your’n, or your father’s ; and 
 Hutter is your father, not mine. Curiosity is a 
 woman’s, and not a man’s failing ; and there you 
 have got all the reasons before you. If the chist 
 has articles for ransom, it seems to me they 
 would be wisely used in redeeming their owner’s 
 life, or even in saving his scalp ; but that is a mat- 
 ter for your judgment, and not for our’n. When 
 the lawful owner of a trap, or a buck, or a canoe, 
 isn’t present, his next of kin becomes his ripri- 
 sentatyve, by all the laws of the woods. We 
 therefore leave you to say whether the chist shall 
 or shall not be opened.” 
 
90 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “ I hope you do not believe I can hesitate, 
 when my father’s life’s in danger, Deerslayer ! ” 
 
 “Why, it’s pretty much putting a scolding 
 ag’in tears and mourning. It’s not onreasonable 
 to foretell that old Tom may find fault with what 
 you’ve done, when he sees himself once more in 
 his hut, here; but there’s nothing unusual in 
 men’s falling out with what has been done for 
 their own good ; I dare to say that even the moon 
 would seem a different thing from what it now 
 does, could we look at it from the other side.” 
 
 “ Deerslayer, if we can find the key, I will 
 authorize you to open the chest, and to take such 
 things from it as you may think will buy father’s 
 ransom.” 
 
 “First find the key, gal; we’ll talk of the 
 rest a’terward. — Sarpent, you’ve eyes like a fly, 
 and a judgment that’s seldom out: can you help 
 us, in calculating where Floating Tom would be 
 apt to keep the key of a chist that he holds to 
 be as private as this ? ” 
 
 The Delaware had taken no part in the dis- 
 course, until he was thus directly appealed to, 
 when he quitted the chest, which had continued 
 to attract his attention, and cast about him for the 
 place in which a key would be likely to be con- 
 cealed under such circumstances. As Judith and 
 Deerslayer were not idle the while, the whole 
 three were soon engaged in an anxious and spir- 
 ited search. As it was certain that the desired 
 key was not to be found in any of the common 
 drawers or closets, of which there were several 
 in the building, none looked there, but all turned 
 their inquiries to those places that struck them as 
 ingenious hiding-places, and more likely to be 
 used for such a purpose. In this manner the 
 outer room was thoroughly but fruitlessly ex- 
 amined ; when they entered the sleeping apart- 
 ment of Hutter. This part of the rude building 
 was better furnished than the rest of the struct- 
 ure, containing several articles that had been 
 especially devoted to the service of the deceased 
 wife of its owner ; but as Judith had all the rest 
 of the keys, it was soon rummaged, without bring- 
 ing to light the particular key desired. 
 
 They now entered the bedroom of the daugh- 
 ters. Chingachgook was immediately struck with 
 the contrast between the articles, and the arrange- 
 ment of that side of the room that might be 
 called Judith’s, and that which more properly 
 belonged to Hetty. A slight exclamation escaped 
 him, and, pointing in each direction, he alluded to 
 the fact in a low voice, speaking to his friend in 
 the Delaware tongue. 
 
 “ As you think, Sarpent,” answered Deer- 
 slayer, whose remarks we always translate into 
 
 English, preserving as much as possible of the 
 peculiar phraseology and manner of the man. 
 “ ’Tis just so, as any one may see ; and ’tis all 
 founded in natur’. One sister loves finery, some 
 say, overmuch ; while t’other is as meek and low- 
 ly as God ever created goodness and truth. Yet, 
 after all, I dare say that Judith has her vartues, 
 and Hetty has her failin’s.” 
 
 “And the ‘Feeble-Mind ’ has seen the chest 
 opened ? ” inquired Chingachgook, with curiosity 
 in his glance. 
 
 “ Sartain ; that much I’ve heard from her own 
 lips ; and, for that patter, so have you. It seems 
 her father doesn’t misgive her discretion, though 
 he does that of his eldest darter.” 
 
 “ Then the key is hid only from the Wild 
 Rose ? ” for so Chingachgook had begun gallant- 
 ly to term Judith, in his private discourse with 
 his friend. 
 
 “ That’s it ! That’s just it ! One he trusts 
 and the other he doesn’t. There’s red and white 
 in that, Sarpent ; all tribes and nations agreeing 
 in trusting some and refusing to trust other some. 
 It depends on character and judgment.” 
 
 “ Where could a key be put, so little likely to 
 be found by the Wild Rose, as among coarse 
 clothes ? ” 
 
 Deerslayer started, and turning to his friend 
 with admiration expressed in every lineament of 
 his face, he fairly laughed, in his silent but hearty 
 manner, at the ingenuity and readiness of the 
 conjecture. 
 
 “ Your name’s well bestowed, Sarpent — yes, 
 ’tis well bestowed ! Sure enough, where would a 
 lover of finery be so little likely to s’arch, as 
 among garments as coarse and unseemly as these 
 of poor Hetty ? I dares to say Judith’s delicate 
 fingers haven’t touched a bit of cloth as rough 
 and oncomely as that petticoat, now, since she 
 first made acquaintance with the officers ! Yet, 
 who knows ? the key may be as likely to be on 
 the same peg as in any other place. Take down 
 the garment, Delaware, and let us see if you are 
 ra’ally a prophet.” 
 
 Chingachgook did as desired, but no key was 
 found. A coarse pocket, apparently empty, hung 
 on the adjoining peg, and this was next examined. 
 By this time, the attention of Judith was called 
 in that direction, and she spoke hurriedly, and 
 like one who wished to save unnecessary trouble. 
 
 “ These are only the clothes of poor Hetty, 
 dear simple girl ! ” she said ; “ nothing we seek, 
 would be likely to be there.” 
 
 The words were hardly out of the handsome 
 mouth of the speaker, when Chingachgook drew 
 the desired key from the pocket. Judith waa 
 
A MYSTERY EXPLAINED. 
 
 91 
 
 too quick of apprehension not to understand the 
 reason a hiding-place so simple and exposed had 
 been used. The blood rushed to her face, as 
 much with resentment, perhaps, as with shame ; 
 and she bit her lip, though she continued silent. 
 Deerslayer and his friend now discovered the deli- 
 cacy of men of native refinement, neither smiling, 
 or even by a glance betraying how completely he 
 understood the motives and ingenuity of this 
 clever artifice. The former, who had taken the 
 key from the Indian, led the way into the adjoin- 
 ing room, and, applying it to a lock, ascertained 
 that the right instrument had actually been found. 
 There were three padlocks, each of which, how- 
 ever, was easily opened by this single key. Deer- 
 slayer removed them all, loosened the hasps, 
 raised the lid a little to make certain it was loose, 
 and then he drew back from the chest several 
 feet, signing to his friend to follow. 
 
 “ This is a family chist, Judith,” he said ; 
 “ and ’tis like to hold family secrets. The Sar- 
 pent and I will go into the ark, and look to the 
 canoes, and paddles, and oars ; while you can ex- 
 amine it by yourself, and find out whether any 
 thing that will be a make-weight in a ransom is 
 or is not among the articles. When you’ve got 
 through, give us a call, and we’ll all sit in council 
 together, touching the valie of the articles.” 
 
 “ Stop, Deerslayer,” exclaimed the girl, as he 
 was about to withdraw ; “ not a single thing will 
 I touch — I will not even raise the lid — unless you 
 are present. Father and Hetty have seen fit to 
 keep the inside of this chest a secret from me, 
 and I am much too proud to pry into their hidden 
 treasures, unless it were for their own good. But 
 on no account will I open the chest alone. Stay 
 with me, then ; I want witnesses of what I do.” 
 
 “ I rather think, Sarpent, that the gal is right ! 
 Confidence and reliance beget security, but sus- 
 picion is like to make us all wary. Judith has a 
 right to ask us to be present ; and should the 
 chist hold any of Master Hutter’s secrets, they 
 will fall into the keeping of two as close-mouthed 
 young men as are to be found. — We will stay with 
 you, Judith — but first let us take a look at the 
 lake and the shore, for this chist will not be emp- 
 tied in a minute.” 
 
 The two men now went out on the platform, 
 and Deerslayer swept the shore with the glass, 
 while the Indian gravely turned his eye on the 
 water and the woods in que£t of any sign that 
 might betray the machinations of their enemies. 
 Nothing was visible, and, assured of their tempo- 
 rary security, the three collected around the chest 
 again, with the avowed object of opening it. 
 
 Judith had held this chest, and its unknown 
 
 contents, in a species of reverence as long as she 
 could remember. Neither her father nor her 
 mother ever mentioned it in her presence ; and 
 there appeared to be a silent convention, that in 
 naming the different objects that occasionally 
 stood near it, or even lay on its lid, care should 
 be had to avoid any allusion to the chest itself. 
 Habit rendered this so easy, and so much a mat- 
 ter of course, that it was only quite recently the 
 girl had begun even to muse on the singularity of 
 the circumstance. But there had never been suf- 
 ficient intimacy between Hutter and his eldest 
 daughter to invite confidence. At times, he was 
 kind, but in general, with her more especially, he 
 was stern and morose. Least of all had his au- 
 thority been exercised in a way to embolden his 
 child to venture on the liberty she was about to 
 take, without many misgivings of the conse- 
 quences, although the liberty proceeded from a 
 desire to serve himself. Then Judith was not al- 
 together free from a little superstition on the sub- 
 ject of this chest, which had stood a sort of ta- 
 booed relic before her eyes from childhood to the 
 present hour. Nevertheless, the time had come 
 when it would seem that this mystery was to be 
 explained, and that under circumstances, too, 
 which left her very little choice in the matter. 
 
 Finding that both her companions were watch- 
 ing her movements in grave silence, J udith placed 
 a hand on the lid, and endeavored to raise it. 
 Her strength, however, was insufficient, and it 
 appeared to the girl, who was fully aware that all 
 the fastenings were removed, that she was resisted 
 in an unhallowed attempt by some supernatural 
 power. 
 
 “I cannot raise the lid, Deerslayer,” she 
 3aid ; “ had we not better give up the attempt, 
 and find some other means of releasing the pris- 
 oners ? ” 
 
 “ Not so, Judith ; not so, gal. No means are 
 as sartain and easy as a good bribe,” answered 
 the other. “ As for the lid, ’tis held by nothing 
 but its own weight, which is prodigious for so 
 small a piece of wood, loaded with iron, as it is.” 
 
 As Deerslayer spoke, he applied his own 
 strength to the effort, and succeeded in raising 
 the lid against the timbers of the house, where he 
 took care to secure it by a sufficient prop. Ju- 
 dith fairly trembled, as she cast her first glance 
 at the interior ; and she felt a temporary relief in 
 discovering that a piece of canvas that was care- 
 fully tucked in around the edges effectually con- 
 cealed all beneath it. The chest was apparently 
 well stored, however, the canvas lying within an 
 inch of the lid. 
 
 “Here’s a full cargo,” said Deerslayer, eying 
 
92 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 the arrangement ; “ and we had needs go to work 
 leisurely, and at our ease. Sarpent, bring some 
 stools, while I spread this blanket on the floor, and 
 then we’ll begin work orderly and in comfort.” 
 
 The Delaware complied ; Deerslayer civilly 
 placed a stool for Judith, took one himself, and 
 commenced the removal of the canvas covering. 
 This was done deliberately, and in as cautious a 
 manner as if it were believed that fabrics of a 
 delicate construction lay hidden beneath. When 
 the canvas was removed, the first articles that 
 came in view were some of the habiliments of 
 the male sex. These were of fine materials, and, 
 according to the fashions of the age, were gay in 
 colors and rich in ornaments. One coat, in par- 
 ticular, was of scarlet, and had button-holes 
 worked in gold thread. Still it was not military, 
 but was part of the attire of a civilian of condi- 
 tion at a period when social rank was rigidly re- 
 spected in dress. Chingachgook could not re- 
 frain from an exclamation of pleasure, as soon as 
 Deerslayer opened this coat, and held it up to 
 view ; for, notwithstanding all his trained self- 
 command, the splendor of the vestment was too 
 much for the philosophy of an Indian. Deer- 
 slayer turned quickly, and he regarded his friend 
 with a momentary displeasure, as this burst of 
 weakness escaped him ; and then he soliloquized, 
 as was his practice whenever any strong feeling 
 suddenly got the ascendency. 
 
 “ ’Tis his gift ! — yes, ’tis the gift of a red-skin 
 to love finery, and he is not to be blamed. This 
 is an extr’ornary garment, too ; and extr’ornary 
 things get up extr’ornary feelin’s. — I think this 
 will do, Judith, for the Indian heart is hardly to 
 be found in all America that can withstand colors 
 like these and glitter like that. If this coat was 
 ever made for your father, you’ve come honestly 
 by the taste for finery, you have.” 
 
 “ That coat was never made for father,” an- 
 swered the girl, quickly ; “ it is much too long ; 
 while father is short and square.” 
 
 “ Cloth was plenty, if it was, and glitter 
 cheap,” answered Deerslayer, with his silent, joy- 
 ous laugh. — “ Sarpent, this garment was made for 
 a man of your size, and I should like to se/> it on 
 your shoulders.” 
 
 Chingachgook, nothing loath, submitted to 
 the trial ; throwing aside the coarse and thread- 
 bare jacket of Hutter, to deck his person in a 
 coat that was originally intended for a gentle- 
 man. The transformation was ludicrous ; but as 
 men are seldom struck with incongruities in their 
 own appearance any more than in their own con- 
 duct, the Delaware studied this change in a com- 
 mon glass, by which Hutter was ia the habit of 
 
 shaving, with grave interest. At that moment hi 
 thought of Hist, and we owe it to truth to say 
 though it may militate a little against the stern 
 character of a warrior to own it, that he wished 
 he could be seen by her in his present improved 
 aspect. 
 
 “ Off with it, Sarpent— off with it,” resumed 
 the inflexible Deerslayer ; “ such garments as 
 little become you as they would become me. 
 Your gifts are for paint, and hawk’s feathers, and 
 blankets, and wampum ; and mine are for doub- 
 lets of skins, tough leggings, and sarviceable 
 moccasins. — I say moccasins, Judith, for though 
 white, living as I do in the woods, it’s necessary 
 to take to some of the practices of the woods, for 
 comfort’s sake and cheapness.” 
 
 “ I see no reason, Deerslayer, why one man 
 may not wear a scarlet coat as well as another,” 
 returned the girl. “ I wish I could see you in 
 this handsome garment.” 
 
 “See mein a coat fit for a lord ! Well, Ju- 
 dith, if you wait till that day, you’ll wait until 
 you see me beyond reason and memory. No — no 
 — gal, my gifts are my gifts, and I’ll live and die 
 in ’em, though I never bring down another deer 
 or spear another salmon. What have I done that 
 you should wish to see me in such a flaunting 
 coat, Judith ? ” 
 
 “ Because I think, Deerslayer, that the false- 
 tongued and false-hearted young gallants of the 
 garrison ought not alone to appear in fine feath- 
 ers ; but that truth and honesty have their claims 
 to be honored and exalted.” 
 
 “ And what exaltification — ” The reader will 
 have remarked that Deerslayer had not very criti- 
 cally studied his dictionary — “and what exaltifi r 
 cation would it be to me, Judith, to be bedizened 
 and bescarleted like a Mingo chief that has just 
 got his presents up from Quebec ? No — no — I’m 
 well as I am; and if not, I can be no better. 
 — Lay the coat down on the blanket, Sarpent, and 
 let us look further into the chist.” 
 
 The tempting garment, one surely that was 
 never intended for Hutter, was laid aside, and the 
 examination proceeded. The male attire, all of 
 which corresponded with the coat in quality, was 
 soon exhausted, and then succeeded female. A 
 beautiful dress of brocade, a little the worse from 
 negligent treatment, followed ; and this time open 
 exclamations of delight escaped the lips of Ju- 
 dith. Much as the girl had been addicted tc 
 dress, and favorable as had been her opportunitie. 
 of seeing some little pretension in that way 
 among the wives of the different commandants, 
 and other ladies of the forts, never before had 
 she beheld a tissue or tints to equal those that 
 
SEARCHING FOR A RANSOM. 
 
 93 
 
 were now so unexpectedly placed before her eyes. 
 Her rapture was almost childish ; nor would she 
 allow the inquiry to proceed until she had attired 
 her person in a robe so unsuited to her habits 
 and her abode. With this end she withdrew into 
 her own room, where, with hands practised in such 
 offices, she soon got rid of her own neat gown of 
 linen, and stood forth in the gay tints of the bro- 
 cade. The dress happened to fit the fine, full per- 
 son of Judith, and certainly it had never adorned 
 a being better qualified, by natural gifts, to do 
 credit to its really rich hues and fine texture. 
 When she returned, both Deerslayer and Chin- 
 gachgook, who had passed the brief time of her 
 absence in taking a second look at the male gar- 
 ments, arose in surprise, each permitting excla- 
 mations of wonder and pleasure to escape him, 
 in a way so unequivocal as to add new lustre to 
 the eyes of Judith, by flushing her cheeks with a 
 glow of triumph. Affecting, however, not to no- 
 tice the impression she had made, the girl seated 
 herself with the stateliness of a queen, desiring 
 that the chest might be looked into further. 
 
 “ I don’t know a better way to treat with the 
 Mingoes, gal,” cried Deerslayer, “ than to send 
 you ashore as you be, and to tell ’em that a queen 
 has arrived among ’em ! They’ll give up old Hut- 
 ter, and Hurry, and Hetty, too, at such a spec- 
 tacle ! ” 
 
 “ I thought your tongue too honest to flatter, 
 Deerslayer,” returned the girl, gratified at this 
 admiration more than she would have cared to 
 own. “ One of the chief reasons of my respect 
 for you was your love for truth.” 
 
 “And ’tis truth, and solemn truth, Judith, 
 and nothing else. Never did eyes of mine gaze 
 on as glorious a lookin’ creatur’ as you be your- 
 self, at this very moment ! I’ve seen beauties in 
 my time, too, both white and red ; and them that 
 was renowned and talked of, far and near ; but 
 never have I beheld one that could hold any com- 
 parison with what you are at this blessed instant, 
 Judith— -never.” 
 
 The glance of delight which the girl bestowed 
 on the frank-speaking hunter, in no degree less- 
 ened the effect of her charms ; and, as the humid 
 eyes blended with it a look of sensibility, per- 
 haps Judith never appeared more truly lovely 
 than at what the young man had called that 
 “ blessed instant.” He shook his head, held it 
 suspended a moment over the open chest like one 
 in doubt, and then proceeded with the examina- 
 tion. 
 
 Several of the minor articles of female dress 
 eame next all of a quality to correspond with the 
 gown. These were laid at Judith’s feet, in si- 
 
 lence, as if she had a natural claim to their pos- 
 session. One or two, such as gloves and lace, the 
 girl caught up, and appended to her already rich 
 attire, in affected playfulness, but with the real 
 design of decorating her person as far as circum- 
 stances would allow. When these two remarkable 
 suits, male and female they might be termed, were 
 removed, another canvas covering separated the 
 remainder of the articles from the part of tho 
 chest which they had occupied. As soon as Deer- 
 slayer perceived this arrangement, he paused, 
 doubtful of the propriety of proceeding any fur- 
 ther. 
 
 “ Every man has his secrets, I suppose,” he 
 said, “ and all meu have a right to their enj’y- 
 ment ; we’ve got low enough in this chist, in my 
 judgment, to answer our wants, and it seems to 
 me we should do well by going no further ; and 
 by letting Master Hutter have to himself, and his 
 own feelin’s, all that’s beneath this cover.” 
 
 “Do you mean, Deerslayer, to offer these 
 clothes to the Iroquois as ransom ? ” demanded 
 Judith, quickly. 
 
 “ Sartain. What are we prying into another 
 man’s chist for, but to sarve its owner in the best 
 way we can ? This coat, alone, would be very 
 apt to gain over the head-chief of the riptyles ; 
 and if his wife or darter should happen to be out 
 with him, that there gownd would soften the 
 heart of any woman that is to be found atween 
 Albany and Montreal. I do not see that we want 
 a larger stock in trade than them two articles.” 
 
 “ To you it may seem so, Deerslayer,” re- 
 turned the disappointed girl ; “ but of what use 
 could a dress like this be to any Indian woman ? 
 She could not wear it among the branches of the 
 trees ; the dirt and smoke of the wigwam would 
 soon soil it ; and how would a pair of red arms ap- 
 pear thrust through these short, laced sleeves ? ” 
 
 “ All very true, gal ; and you might go on and 
 say it is altogether out of time, and place, and 
 season, in this region at all. What is it to us 
 how the finery is treated, so long as it answers 
 our wishes ? I do not see that your father can 
 make any use of such clothes ; and it’s lucky he 
 has things that are of no valie to himself, that 
 will bear a high price with others. We car 
 make no better trade for him than to offer these 
 duds for his liberty. We’ll throw in the light 
 frivol’ ties, and get Hurry off in the bargain ! ” 
 
 “Then you think, Deerslayer, that Thomas 
 Hutter has no one in his family — no child — no 
 daughter, to whom this dress may be thought be- 
 coming, and whom you could wish to see in it 
 once and a while, even though it should be at 
 long intervals, and only in playfulness ? ” 
 
94 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “ I understand you, Judith — yes, I now under- 
 derstand your meaning ; and, I think I can say, 
 your wishes. That you are as glorious in that dress 
 as the sun when it rises or sets in a soft October 
 day, I’m ready to allow ; and that you greatly 
 become it is a good deal more sartin than that it 
 becomes you. There’s gifts in clothes as well as 
 in other things. Now I do not think that a war- 
 rior on his first path ought to lay on the same 
 awful paints as a chief that has had bis virtue 
 tried, and knows from experience he will not dis- 
 grace his pretensions. So it is with all of us, red 
 or white. You are Thomas Hutter’s darter, and 
 that gownd was made for the child of some gov- 
 ernor, or a lady of high station ; and it was in- 
 tended to be worn among fine furniture and in 
 rich company. In my eyes, Judith, a modest 
 maiden never looks more becoming than when 
 becomingly clad, and nothing is suitable that is 
 out of character. Besides, gal, if ther’s a crea- 
 tur’ in the colony that can afford to do without 
 finery, and to trust to her own good looks and 
 sweet countenance, it’s yourself.” 
 
 “ I’ll take off the rubbish this instant, Deer- 
 slayer,” cried the girl, springing up to leave the 
 room ; “ and never do I wish to see it on any hu- 
 man being again.” 
 
 “ So it is with ’em all, Sarpent,” said the 
 other, turning to his friend and laughing, as soon 
 as the beauty had disappeared. “ They like fin- 
 ery, but they like their natyve charms most of all. 
 I’m glad the gal has consented to lay aside her 
 furbelows, howsever, for it’s ag’in reason for one 
 of her class to wear ’em ; and then she is hand- 
 some enough, as I call it, to go alone. Hist 
 would show oncommon likely, too, in such a 
 gownd, Delaware ! ” 
 
 “ Wah-ta !-Wah is a red-skin girl, Deerslayer,” 
 returned the Indian ; “ like the young of the 
 pigeon she is to be known by her own feathers. 
 I should pass by without knowing her, were she 
 dressed in such a skin. It’s wisest always to be 
 so clad that our friends need not ask us for our 
 names. The * Wild Rose ’ is very pleasant, but 
 she is no sweeter for so many colors.” 
 
 “ That’s it ! — that’s natur’, and the true foun- 
 dation for love and protection. When a man 
 stops to pick a wild strawberry, he does not ex- 
 pect to find a melon ; and when he wishes to 
 gather a melon, he’s disapp’inted if it proves 
 to be a squash ; though squashes be often bright- 
 er to the eye than melons. That’s it, and it 
 means, stick to your gifts and your gifts will stick 
 to you.” 
 
 The two men had now a little discussion to- 
 gether, touching the propriety of penetrating anv 
 
 further into the chest of Hutter, when Judith re- 
 appeared, divested of her robes, and in her own 
 simple linen frock again. 
 
 “Thank you, Judith,” said Deerslayer, taking 
 her kindly by the hand ; “ for I know it went a 
 little ag’in the nat’ral cravings of woman to lay 
 aside so much finery as it might be in a lump. 
 But you’re more pleasing to the eye as you stand, 
 you be, than if you had a crown on your head, 
 and jewels dangling from your hair. The ques- 
 tion now is, whether to lift this covering, to see 
 what will be ra’ally the best bargain we can 
 make for Master Hutter ; for we must do as we 
 think he would be willing to do, did he stand here 
 in our places.” 
 
 Judith looked very happy. Accustomed as 
 she was to adulation, the humble homage of Deer- 
 slayer had given her more true satisfaction than 
 she had ever yet received from the tongue of 
 man. It was not the terms in which this admi- 
 ration had been expressed, for they were simple 
 enough, that produced so strong an impression ; 
 nor yet their novelty, or their warmth of maimer, 
 nor any of those peculiarities that usually give 
 value to praise ; but the unflinching truth of the 
 speaker, that carried his words so directly to the 
 heart of the listener. This is one of the great ad- 
 vantages of plain dealing and frankness. The 
 habitual and wily flatterer may succeed until his 
 practices recoil on himself, and, like other sweets, 
 his aliment cloys by its excess ; but he who deals 
 honestly, though he often necessarily offend, pos- 
 sesses a power of praising that no quality but sin- 
 cerity can bestow ; since his words go directly to 
 the heart, finding their support in the understand- 
 ing. Thus it was with Deerslayer and Judith ; so 
 soon and so deeply did this simple hunter impress 
 those who knew him with a conviction of his un- 
 bending honesty, that all he uttered in commen- 
 dation was as certain to please, as all he uttered 
 in the way of rebuke was as certain to rankle and 
 excite enmity where his character had not awak- 
 ened a respect and affection, that in another sense 
 rendered it painful. In after-life, when the career 
 of this untutored being brought him in contact 
 with officers of rank, and others intrusted with 
 the care of the interests of the State, this same in- 
 fluence was exerted on a wider field ; even generals 
 listening to his commendations with a glow of 
 pleasure that it was not always in the power of 
 their official superiors to awaken. Perhaps Ju- 
 dith was the first individual of his own color who 
 fairly submitted to this natural consequence of 
 truth and fair-dealing, on the part of Deerslayer. 
 She had actually pined for his praise, and she had 
 now received it ; and that in the form which was 
 
A TRIAL OF SKILL. 
 
 95 
 
 most agreeable to her weaknesses and habits of 
 thought. The result will appear in the course of 
 the narrative. 
 
 “ If we knew all that chest holds, Deerslayer,” 
 returned the girl, when she had a little recovered 
 from the immediate effect produced by his com- 
 mendations of her personal appearance, “ we 
 could better determine on the course we ought to 
 take.” 
 
 “That’s not onreasonable, gal, though it’s 
 more a pale-face than a red-skin gift, to be pry- 
 ing into other people’s secrets.” 
 
 “ Curiosity is natural, and it is expected that 
 all human beings should have human failings. 
 Whenever I’ve been at the garrisons, I’ve found 
 that most, in and about them, had a longing to 
 learn their neighbors’ secrets.” 
 
 “Yes, and sometimes to fancy them, when 
 they couldn’t find ’em out ! That’s the difference 
 atween an Indian gentleman and a white gentle- 
 man. The Sarpent, here, would turn his head 
 aside, if he found himself onknowingly lookin’ 
 into another chief’s wigwam; whereas, in the 
 settlements, while all pretend to be great people, 
 most prove they’ve got betters, by the manner 
 in which they talk of their consarns. I’ll be 
 bound, Judith, you wouldn’t get the Sarpent, 
 there, to confess there was another in the tribe 
 bo much greater than himself as to become the 
 subject of his idees, and to empl’y his tongue in 
 conversation about his movements, and ways, and 
 food, and all the other little matters that occupy 
 a man when he’s not empl’y’d in his greater 
 duties. He who does this, is but little better than 
 a blackguard in the grain, and them that en- 
 courages him is pretty much of the same kidney, 
 xet them wear coats as fine as they may, or of 
 what dye they please.” 
 
 “ But this is not another man’s wigwam ; it 
 belongs to my father ; these are his things, and 
 they are wanted in his service.” 
 
 “ That’s true, gal, that’s true ; and it carries 
 weight with it. Well, when all is before us, we 
 may, indeed, best judge which to offer for the 
 ransom, and which to withhold.” 
 
 Judith was not altogether as disinterested in 
 her feelings as she affected to be. She remem- 
 bered that the curiosity of Hetty had been in- 
 dulged, in connection with this chest, while her 
 own had been disregarded ; and she was not sor- 
 ry to possess an opportunity of being placed on 
 a level with her less-gifted sister, in this one par- 
 ticular. It appearing to be admitted all round 
 that the inquiry into the contents of the chest 
 ought to be renewed, Deerslayer proceeded to re- 
 move the second covering of canvas. 
 
 The articles that lay uppermost, when the 
 curtain was again raised on the secrets of the 
 chest, were a pair of pistols, curiously inlaid with 
 silver. Their value would have been considerable 
 in one of the towns, though as weapons, in the 
 woods, they were a species of arms seldom em. 
 ployed ; never, indeed, unless it might be by some 
 officer from Europe, who visited the colonies, as 
 many were then wont to do, so much impressed 
 with the superiority of the usages of London, as 
 to fancy they were not to be laid aside on the 
 frontiers of America. What occurred on the dis- 
 covery of these weapons, will appear in the suc- 
 ceeding chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ‘An oaken, broken, elbow-chair; 
 
 A caudle-cup without an ear ; 
 
 A battered, shattered, ash bedstead 
 
 A box of deal without a lid ; 
 
 A pair of tongs, but out of joint ; 
 
 A back-sword poker, without point ; 
 
 A dish which might good meat afford once ; 
 
 An Ovid, and an old Concordance.” 
 
 Dean Swift’s Inventory. 
 
 No sooner did Deerslayer raise the pistols, 
 than he turned to the Delaware, and held them 
 up for his admiration. 
 
 “ Child-gun,” said the Serpent, smiling, while 
 he handled one of the instruments as if it had 
 been a toy. 
 
 “Not it, Sarpent; not it. ’Tis made for a 
 man, and would satisfy a giant if rightly used. 
 But stop ; white men are remarkable for their 
 carelessness in putting away fire-arms in chists 
 and corners. Let me look if care has been given 
 to these.” 
 
 As Deerslayer spoke, he took the weapon 
 from the hand of his friend and opened the pan. 
 The last was filled with priming, caked like a bit 
 of cinder, by time, moisture, and compression. 
 An application of the ramrod showed that both 
 the pistols were charged, although Judith could 
 testify that they had probably lain for years in 
 the chest. It is not easy to portray the surprise 
 of the Indian at this discovery, for he was in the 
 practice of renewing his priming daily, and of 
 looking to the contents of his piece at other short 
 intervals. 
 
 “ This is white neglect,” said Deerslayer, shak- 
 ing his head, “ and scarce a season goes by that 
 some one in the settlements doesn’t suffer from it. 
 — It’s extr’ornary too, Judith — yes, it’s downright 
 extr’omary that the owner shall fire his piece at 
 
98 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 a deer, or some other game, or perhaps at an 
 inimy, and twice out of three times he’ll miss ; 
 but let him catch an accident with one of these 
 forgotten charges, and he makes it sartin death 
 to a child, or a brother, or afri’nd! Well, we 
 shall do a good turn to the owner if we fire these 
 pistols for him; and as they’re novelties to you 
 and me, Sarpent, we’ll try our hand at a mark. 
 Freshen that priming, and I’ll do the same with 
 this, and then we’ll see who is the best man with 
 a pistol ; as for the rifle, that’s long been settled 
 atween us.” 
 
 Deerslayer laughed heartily at his own con- 
 ceit, and, in a minute or two, they were both 
 standing on the platform, selecting some object in 
 the ark for their target. Judith was led by curi- 
 osity to their side. 
 
 “ Stand back, gal, stand a little back ; these 
 we’pons have been long loaded,” said Deerslayer, 
 “ and some accident may happen in the discharge.’’ 
 
 “ Then you shall not fire them ! Give them 
 both to the Delaware ; or it would be better to 
 unload them without firing.” 
 
 “That’s ag’in usage — and some people say 
 ag’in manhood ; though I hold to no such silly 
 doctrine. We must fire ’em, Judith; yes, we 
 must fire ’em ; though I foresee that neither will 
 have any great reason to boast of his skill.” 
 
 Judith, in the main, was a girl of great per- 
 sonal spirit, and her habits prevented her from 
 feeling any of the terror that is apt to come over 
 her sex at the report of fire-arms. She had dis- 
 charged many a rifle, and had even been known 
 to kill a deer, under circumstances that were 
 favorable to the effort. She submitted, therefore, 
 falling a little back by the side of Deerslayer, 
 giving the Indian the front of the platform to him- 
 self. Chingachgook raised the weapon several 
 times, endeavored to steady it by using both 
 hands, changed his attitude, from one that was 
 awkward to another still more so, and finally drew 
 the trigger with a sort of desperate indifference, 
 without having, in reality secured any aim at all. 
 The consequence was that, instead of hitting the 
 knot, which had been selected for the mark, he 
 missed the ark altogether ; the bullet skipping 
 along the water like a stone that was thrown by 
 hand. 
 
 “Well done, Sarpent — well done,” cried Deer- 
 slayer, laughing with his noiseless glee, “ you’ve 
 hit the lake, and that’s an expPite, for some men ! 
 I know’d it, and as much as said it, here, to Ju- 
 dith ; for your short we’pons don’t belong to red- 
 skin gifts. You've hit the lake, and that’s better 
 than only hitting the air ! Now, stand back, and 
 let us see what white gifts can do with a white 
 
 we’pon. A pistol isn’t a trifle; but color ia 
 color.” 
 
 The aim of Deerslayer was both quick and 
 steady, and the report followed almost as soon 
 as the weapon rose. Still the pistol hung fire, as 
 it is termed, and fragments of it flew in a dozen 
 directions, some falling on the roof of the castle, 
 others in the ark, and one in the water. Judith 
 screamed, and when the two men turned anxious- 
 ly toward the girl, she was as pale as death, 
 trembling in every limb. 
 
 “ She’s wounded — yes, the poor gal’s wound- 
 ed, Sarpent, though one couldn’t foresee it, stand- 
 ing where she did. We’ll lead her into a seat, 
 and we must do the best for her that our knowl- 
 edge and skill can afford.” 
 
 Judith allowed herself to be supported to a 
 seat, swallowed a mouthful of the water that the 
 Delaware offered to her in a gourd, and, after a 
 violent fit of trembling, that seemed ready to 
 shake her fine frame to dissolution, she burst 
 into tears. 
 
 “ The pain must be borne, poor Judith — yes, 
 it must be borne,” said Deerslayer, soothingly ; 
 “ though I am far from wishing you not to weep ; 
 for weeping often lightens galish feelin’s. — Where 
 can she be hurt, Sarpent? I see no signs of 
 blood, nor any rent of skin or garments.” 
 
 “ I am uninjured, Deerslayer,” stammered the 
 girl through her tears. “It’s fright — nothing 
 more, I do assure you ; and, God be praised ! no 
 one, I find, has been harmed by the accident.” 
 
 “ This is extr’ornary ! ” exclaimed the unsus- 
 pecting and simple-minded hunter. “ I thought, 
 Judith, you’d been above settlement weaknesses, 
 and that you was a gal not to be frightened by 
 the sound of a bursting we’pon. No— I didn’t 
 think you so skeary ! Hetty might well have 
 been startled ; but you’ve too much judgment 
 and reason to be frightened when the danger’s 
 all over. — They’re pleasant to the eye, chief, and 
 changeful, but very unsartain in their feelin’s ! ” 
 
 Shame kept Judith silent. There had been 
 no acting in her agitation, but all had fairly pro- 
 ceeded from sudden and uncontrollable alarm — 
 an alarm that she found almost as inexplicable to 
 herself, as it proved to be to her companions. 
 Wiping away the traces of tears, however, she 
 smiled again, and was soon able to join in the 
 laugh at her own folly. 
 
 “And you, Deerslayer,” she at length suc- 
 ceeded in saying, “ are you, indeed, altogether un- 
 hurt ? It seems almost miraculous that a pistol 
 should have burst in your hand, and you escape 
 without the loss of a limb, if not of life ! ” 
 
 “ Such wonders ar’n’t oncommnn, at all, 
 
THE HUNTER’S MISTAKE. 
 
 97 
 
 among worn-out arms. The first rifle they gave 
 me played the same trick, and yet I lived through 
 it, though not as onharmless as I’ve got out of 
 this affair. Thomas Hutter is master of one pis- 
 tol less than he was this morning ; but, as it hap- 
 pened in trying to sarve him, there’s no ground 
 of complaint. Now, draw near, and let us look 
 further into the inside of the chist.” 
 
 Judith, by this time, had so far got the better 
 of her agitation as to resume her seat, and the 
 examination went on. The next article that of- 
 fered was enveloped in cloth, and, on opening it, 
 it proved to be one of the mathematical instru- 
 ments that, were then in use among seamen, pos- 
 sessing the usual ornaments and fastenings in 
 brass. Deerslayer and Chingachgook expressed 
 their admiration and surprise at the appearance 
 of the unknown instrument, which was bright 
 and glittering, having apparently been well cared 
 for. 
 
 “This goes beyond the surveyors, Judith,” 
 Deerslayer exclaimed, after turning the instru- 
 ment several times in his hands. “ I’ve seen all 
 their tools often, and wicked and heartless enough 
 are they, for they never come into the forest but to 
 lead the way to waste and destruction ; but none 
 of them have as designing a look as this ! I fear 
 me, after all, that Thomas Hutter has journeyed 
 into the wilderness with no fair intentions toward 
 its happiness. Did you ever see any of the carv- 
 ings of a surveyor about your father, gal ? ” 
 
 “ He is no surveyor, Deerslayer, nor does he 
 know the use of that instrument, though he seems 
 to own it. Do you suppose that Thomas Hutter 
 ever wore that coat ? It is as much too large for 
 him as this instrument is beyond his learning.” 
 
 “ That’s it — that must be it, Sarpent ; and the 
 old fellow, by some onknown means, has fallen 
 heir to another man's goods ! They say he has 
 been a mariner, and no doubt this chist and all it 
 holds — Ha ! what have we here ? This far out- 
 does the brass and black wood of the tool ! ” 
 
 Deerslayer had opened a small bag, from 
 which he was taking, one by one, the pieces of a 
 set of chessmen. They were of ivory, much lar- 
 ger than common, and exquisitely wrought. Each 
 piece represented the character or thing after 
 which it is named ; the knights being mounted, 
 the castles stood on elephants, and even the 
 pawns possessed the heads and busts of men. 
 The set was not complete, and a few fractures be- 
 trayed bad usage ; but all that was left had been 
 earefully put away and preserved. Even Judith 
 expressed wonder as these novel objects were 
 placed before her eyes, and Chingachgook fairly 
 forgot his Indian dignity in admiration and de- 
 
 n 
 
 light. The latter took up each piece and ex- 
 amined it with never-tiring satisfaction, pointing 
 out to the girl the more ingenious and striking 
 portions of the workmanship. But the elephants 
 gave him the greatest pleasure. The “ Hughs ” 
 that he uttered as he passed his fingers over their 
 trunks and ears and tails were very distinct ; nor 
 did he fail to note the pawns, which were armed 
 as archers. This exhibition lasted several min- 
 utes, during which time Judith and the Indian 
 had all the rapture to themselves. Deerslayer 
 sat silent, thoughtful, and even gloomy, though 
 his eyes followed each movement of the two 
 principal actors, noting every new peculiarity 
 about the pieces as they were held up to view. 
 Not an exclamation of pleasure nor a word of 
 condemnation passed his lips. At length his 
 companions observed his silence, and then, for 
 the first time since the chessmen had been dis- 
 covered, did he speak. 
 
 “ Judith,” he asked earnestly, but with a con- 
 cern that amounted almost to tenderness of man- 
 ner, “ did your parents ever talk to you of reli- 
 gion ? ” 
 
 The girl colored, and the flashes of crimson 
 that passed over her beautiful countenance were 
 like the wayvrard tints of a Neapolitan sky in. 
 November. Deerslayer had given her so strong 
 a taste for truth, however, that she did not waver 
 in her answer, replying simply and with sin- 
 cerity : 
 
 “ My mother did, often,” she said ; “ my fa- 
 ther, never. I thought it made my mother sor- 
 rowful to speak of our prayers and duties, but 
 my father has never opened his mouth on such 
 matters before or since her death.” 
 
 “ That I can believe — that I can believe. He 
 has no God — no such God as it becomes a man 
 of white skin to worship, or even a red-skin 
 Them things are idols ! ” 
 
 Judith started, and for a moment she seemed 
 seriously hurt. Then she reflected, and in the 
 end she laughed. 
 
 “ And you think, Deerslayer, that these ivory 
 toys are my father’s gods ? I have heard of idols, 
 and know what they are.” 
 
 “ Them are idols ! ” repeated the other posi- 
 tively. “ Why should your father keep ’em if he 
 doesn’t worship ’em ? ” 
 
 “Would he keep his gods in a bag, and 
 locked up in a chest ? No, no, Deerslayer ; my 
 poor father carries his god with him wherever he 
 goes, and that is in his own cravings. These 
 things may really be idols — I think they are, my- 
 self, from what I have heard and read of idolatry, 
 but they have come from some distant country* 
 
98 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 like all the other articles, and have fallen into 
 Thomas flutter’s hands when he was a sailor.” 
 
 “ I’m glad of it — I am downright glad to hear 
 it, Judith, for I do not think I could have mus- 
 tered the resolution to strive to help a white 
 idolater out of his difficulties ! The old man is 
 of my color and nation, and I wish to sarve him; 
 but, as one who denied all his gifts in the way of 
 religion, it vould have come hard to do so. — That 
 animal seems to give you great satisfaction, Sar- 
 pcnt, though it’s an idolatrous head at the best.” 
 
 “It is an elephant,” interrupted Judith, “I’ve 
 often seen pictures of such animals at the garri- 
 son ; and mother had a book in which there was 
 a printed account of the creature. Father burnt 
 that, with all the other books, for he said mother 
 loved reading too well. This was not long before 
 mother died, and I’ve sometimes thought that the 
 loss hastened her end.” 
 
 This was said equally without levity and with- 
 out any deep feeling. It was said without levity, 
 for Judith was saddened by her recollections, 
 and yet she had been too much accustomed to 
 live for self, and for the indulgence of her own 
 vanities, to feel her mother’s wrongs very heavi- 
 ly. It required extraordinary circumstances to 
 'awaken a proper sense of her situation, and to 
 stimulate the better feelings of this beautiful but 
 misguided girl ; and these circumstances had not 
 yet occurred in her brief existence. 
 
 “Elephant, or no elephant, ’tis an idol,” re- 
 turned the hunter, “ and not fit to remain in Chris- 
 tian keeping.” 
 
 “Good for Iroquois!” said Chingachgook, 
 parting with one of the castles with reluctance, 
 as his friend took it from him to replace it in the 
 bag. “ Elephon buy whole tribe — buy Delaware, 
 almost ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, that it would, as any one who compre- 
 hends red-skin natur’ must know,” answered 
 Deerslayer ; “ but the man that passes false mon- 
 ey, Sarpent, is as bad as he who makes it. Did 
 you ever know a just Injin that wouldn’t scorn to 
 sell a coon-skin for the true martin, or to pass off 
 a mink for a beaver. I know that a few of these 
 idols, perhaps one of them elephants, would go far 
 toward buying Thomas Hutter’s liberty, but it 
 goes ag’in conscience to pass such counterfeit 
 money. Perhaps no Injin tribe, hereaway, is 
 downright idolaters, but there’s some that come 
 so near it, that white gifts ought to be particular 
 about encouraging them in their mistake.” 
 
 “If idolatry is a gift , Deerslayer, and gifts are 
 what you seem to think them, idolatry in such 
 oeople can hardly be a sin,” said Judith, with 
 more smartness than discrimination. 
 
 “ God grants no such gifts to any of his cre»' 
 tur’s, Judith,” returned the hunter, seriously. “ He 
 must be adored, under some name or other, and 
 not creatur’s of brass or ivory. It matters not 
 whether the Father of all is called God or Manitou, 
 Deity or Great Spirit, He is none the less our com- 
 mon Maker and Master; nor does it count for 
 much whether the souls of the just go to para- 
 dise or happy hunting-grounds, since he may 
 send each his own way, as suits his own pleasure 
 and wisdom ; but it curdles my blood, when I find 
 human mortals so bound up in darkness and con- 
 sait, as to fashion the ’arth, or wood, or bones — 
 things made by their own hands — into motionless, 
 senseless effigies, and then fall down before them, 
 and worship ’em as a Deity ! ” 
 
 “ After all, Deerslayer, these pieces of ivory 
 may not be idols at all. I remember, now, to 
 have seen one of the officers at the garrison, with 
 a set of fox and geese made in some such a 
 design as these; and here is something hard, 
 wrapped in cloth, that may belong to youi idols.” 
 
 Deerslayer took the bundle the girl gave him, 
 and, unrolling it, he found the board within. 
 Like the pieces, it was large, rich, and inlaid with 
 ebony and ivory. Putting the whole in conjunc- 
 tion, the hunter, though not without many mis- 
 givings, slowly came over to Judith’s opinion, and 
 finally admitted that the fancied idols must be 
 merely the curiously-carved men of some unknown 
 game. Judith had the tact to use her victory 
 with great moderation; nor did she once, even 
 in the most indirect manner, allude to the ludi- 
 crous mistake of her companion. 
 
 This discovery of the uses of the extraordina- 
 ry-looking little images settled the affair of the 
 proposed ransom. It was agreed generally — and 
 all understood the weaknesses and tastes of In- 
 dians — that nothing could be more likely to tempt 
 the cupidity of the Iroquois, than the elephants, 
 in particular. Luckily, the whole of the castles 
 were among the pieces, and these four tower- 
 bearing animals it was finally determined should 
 be the ransom offered. The remainder of the men, 
 and, indeed, all the rest of the articles in the chest, 
 were to be kept out of view, and to be resorted 
 to only as a last appeal. As soon as these pre- 
 liminaries were settled, every thing but those in- 
 tended for the bribe was carefully replaced in the 
 chest, and all the covers were “ tucked in ” as 
 they had been found ; and it was quite possible, 
 could Hutter have been put in possession of the 
 castle again, that he might have passed the re- 
 mainder of his days in it, without even suspecting 
 the invasion that had been made on the privacy 
 of the chest. The rent pistol would have beet 
 
HETTY’S RETURN TO THE CASTLE. 
 
 99 
 
 the most likely to reveal the secret ; but this was 
 placed by the side of its fellow, and all were 
 pressed down as before — some half a dozen pack- 
 ages in the bottom of the chest not having been 
 opened at all. When this was done, the lid was 
 lowered, the padlocks replaced, and the key 
 turned. The latter was then replaced in the pock- 
 et from which it had been taken. 
 
 Moie than an hour was consumed in settling 
 the course proper to be pursued, and in returning 
 every thing to its place. The pauses to converse 
 were frequent ; and Judith, who experienced a 
 lively pleasure in the open, undisguised admira- 
 tion with which Deerslayer’s honest eye gazed at 
 her handsome face, found the means to prolong 
 the interview with a dexterity that seems to be 
 innate in female coquetry. Deerslayer, indeed, 
 appeared to be the first who was conscious of the 
 time that had been thus wasted, and to call the 
 attention of his companions to the necessity of 
 doing something toward putting the plan of ran- 
 soming into execution. Chingachgook had re- 
 mained in Hutter’s bedroom, where the elephants 
 were laid, to feast his eyes with the images of 
 animals so wonderful and so novel. Perhaps an 
 instinct told him that his presence would not be 
 as acceptable to his companions as this holding 
 himself aloof ; for Judith had not much reserve 
 in the manifestations of her preferences, and the 
 Delaware had not got so far as one betrothed 
 without acquiring some knowledge of the symp- 
 toms of the master-passion. 
 
 “Well, Judith,” said Deerslayer, rising, after 
 the interview had lasted much longer than even 
 he himself suspected, “ ’tis pleasant convarsing 
 with you, and settling all these matters, but duty 
 calls us another way. AH this time Hurry and 
 your father, not to say Hetty — ” 
 
 The word was cut short in the speaker’s 
 mouth, for, at that critical moment, a light step 
 was heard on the platform or court-yard, a human 
 figure darkened the door-way,- and the person 
 iast mentioned stood before him. The low excla- 
 mation that escaped Deerslayer, and the slight 
 Scream of Judith, were hardly uttered, when an 
 Indian youth, between the ages of fifteen and 
 sevenrsen, stood beside her. These two entrances 
 had been made with moccasined feet, and conse- 
 quently almost without noise ; but, unexpected 
 and stealthy as they were, they had not the effect 
 to disturb Deerslayer’s self-possession. His first 
 measure was to speak rapidly in Delaware to his 
 friend, cautioning him to keep out of sight, while 
 he stood on his guard ; the second was to step 
 to the door to ascertain the extent of the danger. 
 K© one else, however, had come ; and a simple 
 
 contrivance, in the shape of a raft, that lay float- 
 ing at the side of the ark, at once explained the 
 means that had been used in bringing Hetty off. 
 Two dead and dry, and consequently buoyant, 
 logs of pine were bound together with pins and 
 withes, and a little platform of riven chestnut had 
 been rudely placed on their surfaces. Here Hetty 
 had been seated on a billet of wood, while the 
 young Iroquois had rowed the primitive and slow- 
 moving but perfectly safe craft from the shore. 
 As soon as Deerslayer had taken a close survey 
 of this raft, and satisfied himself nothing else was 
 near, he shook his head, and muttered in his so- 
 liloquizing way : 
 
 “ This comes of prying into another man’s 
 chist ! Had we been watchful and keen-eyed, 
 such a surprise could never have happened ; and 
 getting this much from a boy, teaches us what we 
 may expect when the old warriors set themselves 
 fairly about their sarcumventions. It opens the 
 way, howsever, to a treaty for the ransom, and 1 
 will hear what Hetty has to say.” 
 
 Judith, as soon as her surprise and alarm had 
 a little abated, discovered a proper share of affec- 
 tionate joy at the return of her sister. She folded 
 her to her bosom and kissed her, as had been her 
 wont in the days of their childhood and innocence. 
 Hetty herself was less affected, for to her there 
 was no surprise, and her nerves were sustained 
 by the purity and holiness of her purpose. At 
 her sister’s request she took a seat, and entered 
 into an account of her adventures since they had 
 parted. Her tale commenced just as Deerslayer 
 returned, and he also became an attentive listener, 
 while the young Iroquois stood near the door, 
 seemingly as indifferent to what was passing as 
 one of its posts. 
 
 The narrative of the girl was sufficiently clear, 
 until she reached the time where we left her in 
 the camp, after the interview with the chiefs, and 
 at the moment when Hist quitted her in the ab- 
 rupt manner already stated. The sequel of the 
 story may be told in her own language. 
 
 “ When I read the texts to the chiefs, Judith, 
 you could not have seen that they made any 
 changes on their minds,” she said, “ but if seed 
 is planted, it will grow. God planted the seeds of 
 all the trees — ” 
 
 “Ay, that did he — that did he,” muttered 
 Deerslayer ; “ and a goodly harvest has fol- 
 lowed.” 
 
 “God planted the seeds of all the trees,” con- 
 tinued Hetty, after a moment’s pause, “ and you 
 see to what a height and shade they have grown 1 
 So it is with the Bible. You may read a verse 
 1 this year and forget it, and it will come back to 
 
LOO 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 you a year lienee, when you least expect to re- 
 member it.” 
 
 “ And did you find any thing of this among 
 the savages, poor Hetty ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, Judith, and sooner and more fully than 
 I had even hoped. I did not stay long with father 
 and Hurry, but went to get my breakfast with 
 Hist. As soon as we had don6, the chiefs came 
 to us, and then we found the fruits of the seed 
 that had been planted. They said what I had 
 read from the good book was right — it must be 
 right — -it sounded right ; like a sweet bird singing 
 in their ears ; and they told me to come back and 
 say as much to the great warrior who had slain 
 one of their braves ; and to tell it to you, and to 
 say how happy they should be to come to church 
 here, in the castle, or to come out in the sun, and 
 hear me read more of the sacred volume — and to 
 tell you that they wish you would lend them some 
 canoes, that they can bring father and Hurry, 
 and their women, to the castle, that we might all 
 sit on the platform there, and listen to the sing- 
 ing of the pale-face Manitou. — There, Judith ; did 
 you ever know of any thing that so plainly shows 
 the power of the Bible as that ? ” 
 
 “ If it were true ’twould be a miracle, indeed, 
 Hetty. But all this is no more than Indian cun- 
 ning and Indian treachery, striving to get the bet- 
 ter of us by management, when they find it is not 
 to be done by force.” 
 
 “Do you doubt the Bible, sister, that you 
 judge the savages so harshly ? ” 
 
 “ I do not doubt the Bible, poor Hetty, but I 
 much doubt an Indian and an Iroquois. — What 
 do you say to this visit, Deerslayer ? ” 
 
 “First let me talk a little with Hetty,” re- 
 turned the party appealed to. — “Was this raft 
 made a’ter you had got your breakfast, gal; and 
 did you walk from the camp to the shore opposite 
 to ns here ? ” 
 
 “ Oh ! no,. Deerslayer. The raft was ready 
 n.ade, and in the water — could that have been by 
 a miracle, Judith ? ” 
 
 “Yes — yes — an Indian miracle,” rejoined the 
 hunter. “ They’re expart enough in them sort 
 of miracles. And you found the raft ready made 
 to your hands, and in the water, and in waiting- 
 like for its cargo ? ” 
 
 “ It was all as you say. The raft was near 
 the camp, and the Indians put me on it, and had 
 ropes of bark, and they dragged me to the place 
 opposite to the castle, and then they told that 
 young man to row me off here.” 
 
 “ And the woods are full of the vagabonds, 
 waiting to know what is to be the upshot of the 
 miracle. We comprehend this affair, now, Judith 
 
 — but I’ll first get rid of this young Canadian 
 blood-sucker, and then we’ll settle our own course. 
 Do you and Hetty leave us together, first bringing 
 me the elephants, which the Sarpent is admiring » 
 for ’twill never do to let this loping deer be alone 
 for a minute, or he’ll borrow a canoe without ask- 
 ing.” 
 
 Judith did as desired, first bringing the pieces 
 and retiring with her sister into their own room. 
 Deerslayer had acquired some knowledge of most 
 of the Indian dialects of that region, and he knew 
 enough of the Iroquois to hold a dialogue in the 
 language. Beckoning to the lad, therefore, he 
 caused him to take a seat on the chest, when he 
 placed two of the castles suddenly before him. 
 Up to this moment, this youthful savage had not 
 expressed a single intelligible emotion or fancy. 
 There were many things in and about the place 
 that were novelties to him, but he had maintained 
 his self-command with philosophical composure. 
 It is true, Deerslayer had detected his dark eye 
 scanning the defences and the arms, but the scru- 
 tiny had been mad6 with such an air of innocence, 
 in such a gaping, indolent, boyish manner, that 
 no one but a man who had himself been taught in 
 a similar school would have suspected his object. 
 The instant, however, the eyes of the savage fell 
 upon the wrought ivory, and the images of the 
 wonderful, unknown beasts, surprise and admira- 
 tion got the mastery of him. The manner in 
 which the natives of the South-Sea Islands first 
 beheld the toys of civilized life, has been often 
 described ; but the reader is not to confound it 
 with the manner of an American Indian under 
 similar circumstances. In this particular case, 
 the young Iroquois, or Huron, permitted an ex- 
 clamation of rapture to escape him, and then he 
 checked himself, like one who had been guilty of 
 an indecorum. After this, his eye ceased to wan- 
 der, but became riveted on the elephants, one of 
 which, after a short hesitation, he even presumed 
 to handle. Deerslayer did not interrupt him for 
 quite ten minutes ; knowing that the lad was tak- 
 ing such note of the curiosities as would enable 
 him to give the most minute and accurate de- 
 scription of their appearance to his seniors, on 
 his return. When he thought sufficient time had 
 been allowed to produce the desired effect, the 
 hunter laid a finger on the naked knee of the 
 youth, and drew his attention to himself. 
 
 “Listen,” he said ; “ I want to talk with my 
 young friend from the Canadas. Let him forget 
 that wonder for a minute.” 
 
 “ Where ’totber pale brother ? ” demanded 
 the boy, looking up, and letting the idea that had 
 been most prominent in his mind, previously tc 
 
THE YOUNG IROQUOIS. 
 
 101 
 
 the introduction of the chessmen, escape him in- 
 voluntarily. 
 
 « He sleeps — or if he isn’t fairly asleep, he is 
 in the room where the men do sleep,” returned 
 Deerslayer. “How did my young friend know 
 there was another? ” 
 
 “ See him from the shore. Iroquois have got 
 long eyes — see beyond the clouds— see the bottom 
 of thfe great spring ! ” 
 
 “ Well, the Iroquois are welcome. Two pale- 
 faces are prisoners in the camp of your fathers, 
 boy.” 
 
 The laa noaciea, treating the circumstance 
 with great apparent indifference ; though a mo- 
 ment after he laughed as if exulting in the superior 
 address of his own tribe. 
 
 “ Can you tell me, boy, what your chiefs in- 
 tend to do with these captives ; or haven’t they 
 made up their minds ? ” 
 
 The lad looked a moment at the hunter with 
 a little surprise ; then he coolly put the end of 
 his forefinger on his own head, just above the 
 left ear, and passed it round his crown, with an 
 accuracy and readiness that showed how well he 
 had been drilled in the peculiar art of his race. 
 
 “ When ? ” demanded Deerslayer, whose gorge 
 rose at this cool demonstration of indifference to 
 human life. “ And why not take them to your 
 wigwams ? ” 
 
 “ Road too long, and full of pale-faces. Wig- 
 wam full, and scalps sell high. Small scalp, much 
 gold.” 
 
 “ Well, that explains it — yes, that does explain 
 it. There’s no need of being any plainer. Now, 
 you know, lad, that the oldest of your prisoners is 
 the father of these two young women ; and the 
 other is the suitor of one of them. The gals 
 nat’rally wish to save the scalps of such fri’nds> 
 and they will give them two ivory creatur’s as 
 ransom ; one for each scalp. Go back and tell 
 this to your chiefs, and bring me the answer 
 before the sun sets.” 
 
 The boy entered zealously into this project, 
 and with a sincerity that left no doubt of his 
 executing his commission with intelligence and 
 promptitude. For a moment he forgot his love 
 of honor, and all his clannish hostility to the 
 British and their Indians, in his wish to have 
 ouch a treasure in his tribe, and Deerslayer was 
 satisfied with the impression he had made. It is 
 true, the lad proposed to carry one of the ele- 
 phants with him, as a specimen of the other, but 
 to this his brother negotiator was too sagacious 
 to consent; well knowing that it might never 
 reach its destination if confided to such hands. 
 This little difficulty was soon arranged, and the 
 
 boy prepared to depart. As he stood on the 
 platform ready to step aboard of the raft, he 
 hesitated, and turned short with a proposal to 
 borrow a canoe, as the means most likely to 
 shorten the negotiation. Deerslayer quietly re- 
 fused the request, and, after lingering a little lon- 
 ger, the boy rowed slowly away from the castle, 
 taking the direction of a thicket on the shore, that 
 lay less than half a mile distant. Deerslayer 
 seated himself on a stool, and watched the progress 
 of the ambassador ; sometimes closely scanning 
 the whole line of the shore, as far as eye could 
 reach, and then, placing an elbow on a knee, he re- 
 mained a long time with his chin resting on the 
 hand. 
 
 During the interview between Deerslayer and 
 the lad, a different scene took place in the ad- 
 joining room. Hetty had inquired for the Dela- 
 ware, and, being told why and where he remained 
 concealed, she joined him. The reception which 
 Chingachgook gave his visitor was respectful and 
 gentle. He understood her character; and, no 
 doubt, his disposition to be kind to such a being 
 was increased by the hope of learning some 
 tidings of his betrothed. As soon as the girl 
 entered she took a seat, and invited the Indian to 
 place himself near her; then she continued silenti 
 as if she thought it decorous for him to ques- 
 tion her, before she consented to speak on the 
 subject she had on her mind. But, as Chingach- 
 gook did not understand this feeling, he re- 
 mained respectfully attentive to any thing she 
 might be pleased to tell him. 
 
 “ You are Chingachgook — the Great Serpent 
 of the Delawares, ar’n’t you ? ” the girl at length 
 commenced, in her own simple way, losing her 
 self-command in the desire to proceed, but anxious 
 first to make sure of the individual. 
 
 “ Chingachgook,” returned the Delaware, with 
 grave dignity. “ That say Great Sarpent in Deer- 
 slayer tongue.” 
 
 “Well, that is my tongue. Deerslayer, and 
 father, and Judith, and I, and poor Hurry Harry 
 — do you know Henry March, Great Serpent ? I 
 know you don’t, however, or he would have 
 spoken of you , too.” 
 
 “ Did any tongue name Chingachgook, Droop- 
 ing-Lily ? ” for so the chief had named poor Hetty # 
 “Was his name sung by a little bird among the 
 Iroquois ? ” 
 
 Hetty did not answer at first ; but with that 
 indescribable feeling that awakens sympathy and 
 intelligence among the youthful and unpractised 
 of her sex, she hung her head, and the blood 
 suffused her cheek ere she found her tongue. It 
 would have exceeded her stock of intelligence ta 
 
102 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 explain this embarrassment ; but, though poor 
 Hetty could not reason on every emergency, she 
 could always feel. The color slowly receded from 
 her cheek, and the girl looked up archly at the 
 Indian, smiling with the innocence of a child, 
 mingled with the interest of a woman. 
 
 “Hy sister, the Drooping-Lily, hear such 
 bird!” Chingachgook added, and this with a 
 gentleness of tone and manner that would have 
 astonished those who sometimes heard the dis- 
 cordant cries that often came from the same 
 throat ; these transitions from the harsh and gut- 
 tural to the soft and melodious not being infre- 
 quent in ordinary Indian dialogues. “ My sister’s 
 ears were open — has she lost her tongue ? ” 
 
 “ You are Chingachgook — you must be ; for 
 there is no other red man here, and she thought 
 Chingachgook would come.” 
 
 “ Chin-gach-gook,” pronouncing the name 
 slowly, and dwelling on each syllable ; “ Great 
 Sarpent, Yengeese* tongue.” 
 
 “ Chin-gach-gook,” repeated Hetty, in the 
 same deliberate manner. “ Yes, so Hist called 
 it, and you must be the chief.” 
 
 “ Wah-ta !-Wah,” added the Delaware. 
 
 “ Wah-ta !-Wah, or Hist-oh !-Hist. I think 
 Hist prettier than Wah, and so I call her Hist.” 
 
 . “ Wah ! very sweet in Delaware ears ! ” 
 
 '‘You make it sound differently from me. But 
 never mind ; I did hear the bird you speak of 
 sing, Great Serpent.” 
 
 “ Will my sister say words of song ? What 
 she sing most — how she look — often she laugh ? ” 
 
 “She sang Chin-gach-gook oftener than any 
 thing else ; and she laughed heartily when I told 
 how the Iroquois waded into the water after us, 
 and couldn’t catch us. I hope these logs haven’t 
 ears, Serpent ! ” 
 
 “No fear logs ; fear sister next room. No 
 fear Iroquois ; Deerslayer stuff his eyes and ears 
 with strange beast.” 
 
 “ I understand you, Serpent, and I understood 
 
 * It is singular there should be any question concerning 
 the origin of the well-known sobriquet of “Yankees.” 
 Nearly all the old writers who speak of the Indians first 
 known to the colonists make them pronounce the word 
 “English” as “ Yengeese.” Even at this day, it is a pro- 
 vincialism of New England to say “ English ” instead of 
 “ 7nglish,” and there is a close conformity of sound between 
 “ .EViglish ” and “Yengeese,” more especially if the latter 
 Word, as was probably the case, be pronounced short. The 
 transition from “Yengeese,” thus pronounced, to “Yan- 
 kees ” is quite easy. If the former is pronounced “ Yangis,’’ 
 it is almost identical with “ Yankees,” and Indian words have 
 seldom been 6pelt as they are pronounced. Thus the scene 
 of this tale is spelt “ Otsego,” and is properly pronounced 
 M Otsrtgo.” The liquids of the Indians would easily convert 
 “En ” into “Yen.” 
 
 Hist. Sometimes I think I’m not half as feeble* 
 minded as they say I am. Now, do you look up 
 at the roof, and I’ll tell you all. But you frighten 
 me, you look so eager when I speak of Hist.” 
 
 The Indian controlled his looks, and affected 
 to comply with the simple request of the girl. 
 
 “ Hist told me to say, in a very low voice, 
 that you mustn’t trust the Iroquois in any thing. 
 They are more artful than any Indians she knows. 
 Then she says that there is a large bright star 
 that comes over the hill, about an hour after dark ” 
 — (Hist had pointed out the planet Jupiter, with- 
 out knowing it) — “ and just as that star comes in 
 sight, she will be on the point where I landed last 
 night, and that you must come for her, in a canoe.” 
 
 “ Good — Chingachgook understand well 
 enough, now; but he understand better if my 
 sister sing to him ag’in.” 
 
 Hetty repeated her words, more fully explain- 
 ing what star was meant, and mentioning the part 
 of the point where he was to venture ashore. She 
 now proceeded in her own unsophisticated way to 
 relate her intercourse with the Indian maid, and 
 to repeat several of her expressions and opinions 
 that gave great delight to the heart of her be- 
 trothed. She particularly renewed her injunctions 
 to be on their guard against treachery ; a warn- 
 ing that was scarcely needed, however, as ad- 
 dressed to men as wary as those to whom it was 
 sent. She also explained, with sufficient clear- 
 ness — for on all such subjects the mind of the 
 girl seldom failed her — the present state of the 
 enemy and the movements they had made since 
 morning. Hist had been on the raft with her, 
 until it quitted the shore ; and was now some- 
 where in the woods, opposite to the castle, and 
 did not intend to return to the camp until night 
 approached ; when she hoped to be able to slip 
 away from her companions, as they followed the 
 shore on their way home, and conceal herself on 
 the point. No one appeared to suspect the pres- 
 ence of Chingachgook, though it was necessarily 
 known that an Indian had entered the ark the 
 previous night, and it was suspected that he had 
 since appeared in and about the castle, in the 
 dress of a pale-face. Still some little doubt ex- 
 isted on the latter point, for, as this was the sea- 
 son when white men might be expected to arrive, 
 there was some fear that the garrison of the castlo 
 was increasing by these ordinary means. Ah 
 this had Hist communicated to Hetty while the 
 Indians were dragging them along shore; the 
 distance, which exceeded six miles, affording 
 abundance of time. 
 
 “ Hist don’t know, herself, whether they sus- 
 pect her or not, or whether they suspect vou } but 
 
A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 103 
 
 ihe hopes neither is the case. And now, Ser- 
 pent, since I have told you so much from your 
 betrothed,” continued Hetty, unconsciously taking 
 one of the Indian’s hands, and playing with the 
 fingers, as a child is often seen to play with those 
 of a parent, “ you must let me tell you something 
 from myself. When you marry Hist, you must 
 be kind to her, and smile on her, as you do now 
 on me ; and not look cross, as some of the chiefs 
 do at their squaws. Will you promise this ? ” 
 
 “Always good to Wah ! — too tender to twist 
 hard ; else she break.” 
 
 “Yes, and smile, too; you don’t know how 
 much a girl craves smiles from them she loves. 
 Father scarce smiled on me once, while I was 
 with him — and, Hurry — yes — Hurry talked loud, 
 and laughed ; but I don’t think he smiled once 
 either. You know the difference between a smile 
 and a laugh ? ” 
 
 “Laugh, best. Hear Wah ! laugh, think bird 
 sing.” 
 
 “ I know that ; her laugh is pleasant, but you 
 must smile. And then, Serpent, you mustn’t make 
 her carry burdens and hoe corn, as so many In- 
 dians do ; but treat her more as the pale-faces 
 treat their wives.” 
 
 “Wah-ta!-Wah no pale-face — got red skin; 
 red heart, red feelin’s. All red ; no pale-face. 
 Must carry papoose.” 
 
 “Every woman is willing to carry her child,” 
 said Hetty, smiling ; “ and there is no harm in 
 that. But you must love Hist, and be gentle, 
 and good to her ; for she is gentle and good her- 
 self.” 
 
 Chingachgook gravely bowed, and then he 
 seemed to think this part of the subject might be 
 dismissed. Before there was time for Hetty to 
 resume her communications, the voice of Deer- 
 slayer was heard calling on his friend in the outer 
 room. At this summons the Serpent arose to 
 obey, and Hetty joined her sister. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 “ * A stranger animal,’ cries one, 
 
 ‘ Sure never lived beneath the sun ; 
 
 A lizard’s body, lean and long, 
 
 A fish’s head, a serpent’s tongue. 
 
 Its foot, with triple claw disjoined ; 
 
 And what a length of tail behind 1 ’ ” 
 
 Merrick. 
 
 The first act of the Delaware, on rejoining his 
 friend, was to proceed gravely to disencumber 
 himself of his civilized attire, and to stand forth 
 an Indian warrior again. The protest of Deer- 
 
 slayer was met by his communicating the fact 
 that the presence of an Indian in the hut was 
 known to the Iroquois, and that his maintaining 
 the disguise would be more likely to direct sus- 
 picions to his real object, than if he came out 
 openly as a member of a hostile tribe. When 
 the latter understood the truth, and was told that 
 he had been deceived in supposing the chief had 
 succeeded in entering the ark undiscovered, he 
 cheerfully consented to the change, since further 
 attempt at concealment was useless. A gentler 
 feeling than the one avowed, however, lay at the 
 bottom of the Indian’s desire to appear as a son 
 of the forest. He had been told that Hist was 
 on the opposite shore; and Nature so far tri- 
 umphed over all distinctions of habit, and tribes, 
 and people, as to reduce this young, savage war- 
 rior to the level of a feeling which would have 
 been found in the most refined inhabitant of a 
 town, under similar circumstances. There was a 
 mild satisfaction in believing that she he loved 
 could see him ; and as he walked out on the plat- 
 form in his scanty native attire, an Apollo of the 
 wilderness, a hundred of the tender fancies that 
 fleet through lovers’ brains beset his imagination 
 and softened his heart. 
 
 All this was lost on Deerslayer, who was no 
 great adept in the mysteries of Cupid, but whose 
 mind was far more occupied with the concerns 
 that forced themselves on his attention, than with 
 any of the truant fancies of love. He soon re- 
 called his companion, therefore, to a sense of their 
 actual condition, by summoning him to a sort of 
 council of war, in which they were to settle their 
 future course. In the dialogue that followed, the 
 parties mutually made each other acquainted with 
 what had passed in their several interviews. Chin- 
 gachgook was told the history of the treaty about 
 the ransom ; and Deerslayer heard the whole of 
 Hetty’s communications. The latter listened with 
 generous interest to his friend’s hopes, and prom- 
 ised cheerfully all the assistance he could lend. 
 
 “ ’Tis our main ar’n’d, Sarpent, as you know ; 
 this battling for the castle and old Hutter’s dar- 
 ters, coming in as a sort of accident. Yes — yes 
 — I’ll be actyve in helping little Hist, who’s not 
 only one of the best and handsomest maidens of 
 the tribe, but the very best and handsomest. I’ve 
 always encouraged you, chief, in that liking ; and 
 it’s proper, too, that a great and ancient race like 
 your’n shouldn’t come to an end. If a woman of 
 red skin and red gifts could get to be near enough 
 to me to wish her for a wife, I’d s’arch for just 
 such another, but that can never be ; no, that can 
 never be. I’m glad Hetty has met with Hist, 
 howsever, for though the first is a little short in 
 
104 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 writ and understanding, the last has enough for 
 both. Yes, Sarpent,” laughing heartily, “put 
 ’em together, and two smarter gals isn’t to be 
 found in all York colony ! ” 
 
 “ I will go to the Iroquois camp,” returned 
 the Delaware, gravely. “No one knows Chin- 
 gachgook but Wah!, and a treaty for lives and 
 scalps should be made by a chief ! Give me the 
 strange beasts, and let me take a canoe.” 
 
 Deerslayer dropped his head, and played with 
 the end of a fish-pole in the water, as he sat dan- 
 gling his legs over the edge of the platform, like 
 a man who was lost in thought by the sudden oc- 
 currence of a novel idea. Instead of directly 
 answering the proposal of his friend, he began to 
 soliloquize : a circumstance, however, that in no 
 manner rendered his words more true, as he was 
 remarkable for saying what he thought, whether 
 the remarks were addressed to himself or to any 
 one else. 
 
 “ Yes — yes,” he said, “ this must be what 
 they call love ! I’ve heard say that it sometimes 
 upsets reason altogether, leaving a young man as 
 helpless, as to calculation and caution, as a brute 
 beast. To think that the Sarpent should be so 
 lost to reason, and cunning, and wisdom! We 
 must, sartainly, manage to get Hist off, and have 
 ’em married as soon as we get back to the tribe, 
 or this war will be of no more use to the chief 
 than a hunt a little oncommon and extr’ornary. 
 Yes — yes — he’ll never be the man he was till this 
 matter is off his mind and he comes to his senses, 
 like all the rest of mankind. — Sarpent, you can’t 
 be in airnest, and therefore I shall say but little 
 to your offer. But you’re a chief, and will soon 
 be sent out on the war-path at the head of parties, 
 and I’ll just ask if you’d think of putting your 
 forces into the inimy’s hands, afore the battle is 
 fou’t ? ” 
 
 “ Wah ! ” ejaculated the Indian. 
 
 “ Ay — Wah ! — I know well enough it’s Wah ! 
 and altogether Wah ! Ra’aly, Sarpent, I’m con- 
 sarned and mortified about you ! I never heard 
 so weak an idea come from a chief, and he, too, 
 one that’s already got a name for being wise, 
 young and inexper’enced as he is. Canoe you 
 eha’n’t have, so long as the v’ice of fri’ndship and 
 warning can count for any thing.” 
 
 “ My pale-face friend is right. A cloud came 
 over the face of Chingachgook, and weakness got 
 into his mind, while his eyes were dim. My 
 brother has a good memory for good deeds, and 
 a weak memory for bad. He will forget.” 
 
 “ Yes, that’s easy enough. Say no more about 
 it, chief ; but if another of them clouds blow near 
 you do your endivor to get out of its way. Clouds 
 
 are bad enough in the weather ; but when they 
 come to the reason it gets to be serious. Now 
 sit down by me here, and let us calculate our 
 movements a little, for we shall soon either have 
 a truce and a peace, or we shall come to an actyve 
 and bloody war. You see the vagabonds can 
 make logs sarve their turn, as well as the best 
 raftsmen on the rivers ; and it would be no great 
 expl’ite for them to invade us in a body. I’ve 
 been thinking of the wisdom of putting all old 
 Tom’s stores into the ark, of barring and locking 
 up the castle, and of taking to the ark altogether. 
 That is movable, and, by keeping the sail up, and 
 shifting places, we might worry through a great 
 many nights, without them Canada wolves finding 
 a way into our sheepfold.” 
 
 Chingachgook listened to this plan with ap- 
 probation. Did the negotiation fail there was now 
 little hope that the night would pass without an 
 assault ; and the enemy had sagacity enough to 
 understand, that, in carrying the castle, they 
 would probably become masters of all it contained, 
 the offered ransom included, and still retain the 
 advantages they had hitherto gained. Some pre- 
 caution of the sort appeared to be absolutely 
 necessary ; for, now the numbers of the Iroquois 
 were known, a night attack could scarcely be suc- 
 cessfully met. It would be impossible to prevent 
 the enemy from getting possession of the canoes 
 and the ark, and the latter itself would be a hold 
 in which the assailants would be as effectually 
 protected against bullets as were those in the 
 building. For a few minutes both the men 
 thought of sinking the ark in the shallow water, 
 of bringing the canoes into the house, and of de- 
 pending altogether on the castle for protection. 
 But reflection satisfied them that, in the end, this 
 expedient would fail. It was so easy to collect 
 logs on the shore, and to construct a raft of al- 
 most any size, that it was certain the Iroquois, 
 now they had turned their attention to such 
 means, would resort to them seriously, so long as 
 there was the certainty of success by perseverance 
 After deliberating maturely, and placing all the 
 considerations fairly before them, the two young 
 beginners in the art of forest warfare settled 
 down into the opinion that the ark offered the 
 only available means of security. This decision 
 was no sooner come to, than it was communicated 
 to Judith. The girl had no serious objection to 
 make, and all four set about the measures neces- 
 sary to carrying the plan into execution. 
 
 The reader will readily understand that Float- 
 ing Tom’s worldly goods were of no great amount. 
 A couple of beds, some wearing-apparel, the arms 
 and ammunition, a few cooking-utensils, with th« 
 
VISIT OF RIVENOAK. 
 
 105 
 
 mysterious but half-examined chest, formed the 
 principal items. These were all soon removed, 
 the ark having been hauled on the eastern side 
 of the building, so that the transfer could be made 
 without being seen from the shore. It was 
 thought unnecessary to disturb the heavier and 
 coarser articles of furniture, as they were not re- 
 quired in the ark, and were of but little value in 
 themselves. As great caution was necessary in 
 removing the different objects, most of which 
 were passed out of a window with a view to con- 
 ceal what was going on, it required two or three 
 hours before all could be effected. By the expi- 
 ration of that time the raft made its appearance, 
 moving from the shore. Deerslayer immediately 
 had recourse to the glass, by the aid of which he 
 perceived that two warriors were on it, though 
 they appeared to be unarmed. The progress of 
 the raft was slow, a circumstance that formed one 
 of the great advantages that would be possessed 
 by the scow, in any future collision between them ; 
 the movements of the latter being comparatively 
 swift and light. As there was time to make the 
 dispositions for the reception of the two danger- 
 ous visitors, every thing was prepared for them, 
 long before they had got near enough to be hailed. 
 The Serpent and the girls retired into the build- 
 ing, where the former stood near the door, well 
 provided with rifles; while Judith watched the 
 proceedings without through a loop. As for 
 Deerslayer, he had brought a stool to the edge of 
 the platform, at the point toward which the raft 
 was advancing, and taken his seat, with his rifle 
 leaning carelessly between his legs. 
 
 As the raft drew nearer, every means pos- 
 sessed by the party in the castle was resorted to, 
 in order to ascertain if their visitors had any fire- 
 arms. Neither Deerslayer nor Chingachgook 
 could discover any ; but Judith, unwilling to trust 
 to simple eyesight, thrust the glass through the 
 loop, and directed it toward the hemlock-boughs 
 that lay between the two logs of the raft, forming 
 a sort of flooring, as well as a seat for the use of 
 the rowers. When the heavy-moving craft was 
 within fifty feet of him, Deerslayer hailed the 
 Hurons, directing them to cease rowing, it not 
 being his intention to permit them to land. Com- 
 pliance, of course, was necessary, and the two 
 grim-looking warriors instantly quitted their seats, 
 though the raft continued slowly to approach, 
 until it had driven in much nearer to the plat- 
 form. 
 
 “ Are ye chiefs ? ” demanded Deerslayer, with 
 dignity. “ Are ye chiefs ? — or have the Mingoes 
 sent me warriors without names, on such an 
 ftr’n’d ? If so, the sooner ye go back, the sooner 
 
 the one will be likely to come that a warrior can 
 talk with.” 
 
 “Hugh!” exclaimed the elder of the two 
 on the raft, rolling his glowing eyes over the dif- 
 ferent objects that were visible in and about the 
 castle, with a keenness that showed how little 
 escaped him. “ My brother is very proud, but 
 Rivenoak ” (we use the literal translation of the 
 term, writing as we do in English) “ is a name to 
 make a Delaware turn pale.” 
 
 “ That’s true, or it’s a lie, Rivenoak, as it may 
 be ; but I am not likely to turn pale, seeing that 
 I was born pale. What’s your ar’n’d, and why do 
 you come among light bark canoes on logs that 
 are not even dug out ? ” 
 
 “ The Iroquois are not ducks, to walk on 
 water ! Let the pale-faces give them a canoe, and 
 they’ll come in a canoe.” 
 
 “ That’s more rational, than likely to come to 
 pass. We have but four canoes, and, being four 
 persons, that’s only one for each of us. We 
 thank you for the offer, howsever, though we ask 
 leave not to accept it. You are welcome, Iroquois, 
 on your logs ! ” 
 
 “ Thanks — my young pale-face warrior — he 
 has got a name — how do the chiefs call him ? ” 
 
 Deerslayer hesitated a moment, and a gleam of 
 pride and human weakness came over him. He 
 smiled, muttered between his teeth, and then, look- 
 ing up proudly, he said : 
 
 “ Mingo, like all who are young and actyve, 
 I’ve been known by different names, at different 
 times. One of your warriors, whose spirit start- 
 ed for the happy-grounds of your people as lately 
 as yesterday morning, thought I desarved to be 
 known by the name of Hawkeye; and this be- 
 cause my sight happened to be quicker than his 
 own, when it got to be life or death atween us.” 
 
 Chingachgook, who was attentively listening 
 to all that passed, heard and understood this 
 proof of passing weakness in his friend, and on a 
 future occasion he questioned him more closely 
 concerning the transaction on the point where 
 Deerslayer had first taken human life. When he 
 had got the whole truth, he did not fail to com- 
 municate it to the tribe, from which time the 
 young hunter was universally known among the 
 Delawares by an appellation so honorably earned. 
 As this, however, was a period posterior to all the 
 incidents of this tale, we shall continue to call 
 the young hunter by the name under which he has 
 been first introduced to the reader. Nor was the 
 Iroquois less struck with the vaunt of the white 
 man. He knew of the death of his comrade, and 
 had no difficulty in understanding the allusion ; 
 the intercourse between the conqueror and his vie- 
 
106 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 tim on that occasion having been seen by several 
 savages on the shore of the lake, who had been 
 stationed at different points just within the mar- 
 gin of the bushes, to watch the drifting canoes, 
 and who had not time to reach the scene of 
 action ere the victor had retired. The effect on 
 this rude being of the forest was an exclamation 
 of surprise ; then such a smile of courtesy and 
 wave of the hand succeeded, as would have done 
 credit to Asiatic diplomacy. The two Iroquois 
 spoke to each other in low terms, and both drew 
 near the end of the raft that was closest to the 
 platform. 
 
 “ My brother, Hawkeye, has sent a message 
 to the Hurons,” resumed Rivenoak, “ and it has 
 made their hearts very glad. They hear he has 
 images of boasts with two tails ! Will he show 
 them to his friends ? ” 
 
 “ Inimies would be truer,” returned Deer- 
 slayer ; “ but sound isn’t sense, and does little 
 harm. Here is one of the images ; I toss it to 
 you under faith of treaties. If it’s not returned, 
 the rifle will settle the p’int atween us.” 
 
 The Iroquois seemed to acquiesce in the con- 
 ditions, and Deerslayer arose and prepared to 
 toss one of the elephants to the raft, both parties 
 using all the precaution that was necessary to pre- 
 vent its loss. As practice renders men expert in 
 such things, the little piece of ivory was soon suc- 
 cessfully transferred from one hand to the other ; 
 and then followed another scene on the raft, in 
 which astonishment and delight got the mastery 
 of Indian stoicism. These two grim old warriors 
 manifested even more feeling, as they examined 
 the curiously-wrought chessman, than had been 
 betrayed by the boy ; for, in the case of the lat- 
 ter, recent schooling had interposed its influence ; 
 while the men, like all who are sustained by well- 
 established characters, were not ashamed to let 
 some of their emotions be discovered. For a few 
 minutes they apparently lost the consciousness of 
 their situation in the intense scrutiny they be- 
 stowed on a material so fine, work so highly 
 wrought, and an animal so extraordinary. The 
 lip of the moose is, perhaps, the nearest approach 
 to the trunk of the elephant that is to be found 
 in the American forest ; but this resemblance was 
 far from being sufficiently striking to bring the 
 new creature within the range of their habits and 
 ideas, and the more they studied the image, the 
 greater was their astonishment. Nor did these 
 children of the forest mistake the structure on 
 the back of the elephant for a part of the animal. 
 They were familiar with horses and oxen, and 
 had seen towers in the Canadas, and found noth- 
 ing surprising in creatures of burden. Still, by a 
 
 very natural association, they supposed the carv- 
 ing meant to represent that the animal they saw 
 was of a strength sufficient to carry a fort on its 
 back ; a circumstance that in no degree lessened 
 their wonder. 
 
 “ Has my pale-face brother any more such 
 beasts ? ” at last the senior of the Iroquois asked, 
 in a sort of petitioning manner. 
 
 “ There’s more where thenf came from, Min- 
 go,” was the answer ; “ one is enough, however, 
 to buy off fifty scalps.” 
 
 “ One of my prisoners is a great warrior — tall 
 as a pine — strong as the moose— active as a deer 
 — fierce as the panther. Some day he’ll be a 
 great chief, and lead the army of King George ! ” 
 
 “Tut — tut — Mingo; Harry Hurry is Harry 
 Hurry, and you’ll never make more than a cor- 
 poral of him, if you do that. He’s tall enough, 
 of a sartainty ; but that’s of no use, as he only 
 hits his head ag’in the branches as he goes through 
 the forest. He’s strong, too ; but a strong body 
 isn’t a strong head, and the king’s generals are 
 not chosen for their sinews. He’s swift, if you 
 will, but a rifle-bullet is swifter ; and as for Ferce- 
 ness, it’s no great ricommend to a soldier ; they 
 that think they feel the stoutest, often givin’ out 
 at the pinch. No — no — you’ll never make Hur- 
 ry’s scalp pass for more than a good head of cur- 
 ly hair, and a rattlepate beneath it ! ” 
 
 “ My old prisoner very wise — king of the lake 
 — great warrior, wise counsellor ! ” 
 
 “Well, there’s them that might gainsay all 
 this, too, Mingo. A very wise man wouldn’t be 
 apt to be taken in so foolish a manner as befell 
 Master Hutter ; and, if he gives good counsel, he 
 must have listened to very bad in this affair. 
 There’s only one king of this lake, and he’s along 
 way off, and isn’t likely ever to see it. Floating 
 Tom is some such king of this region, as the wolf 
 that prowls through the woods is king of the for- 
 est. A beast with two tails is well worth two such 
 scalps ! ”« 
 
 “But my brother has another beast? — He 
 will give two,” holding up as many fingers, “ for 
 old father.” 
 
 “ Floating Tom is no father of mine, but he’ll 
 fare none the worse for that. As for giving two 
 beasts for his scalp, and each beast with two tails, 
 it is quite beyond reason. Think yourself well 
 off, Mingo, if you make a much worse trade.” 
 
 By this time the self-command of Rivenoak 
 had got the better of his wonder, and he began 
 to fall back on his usual habits of cunning, in or- 
 der to drive the best bargain he could. It would 
 be useless to relate more than the substance of 
 the desultory dialogue that followed, in which th« 
 
ATTEMPTS AT NEGOTIATION. 
 
 107 
 
 •ndian manifested no little management, in en- 
 deavoring to recover the ground lost under the 
 influence of surprise. He even affected to doubt 
 whether any original for the image of the beast 
 existed, and asserted that the oldest Indian had 
 never heard a tradition of any such animal. Lit- 
 tle did either of them imagine at the time that 
 long ere a century elapsed, the progress of 
 civilization would bring even much more extraor- 
 dinary and rare animals into that region, as curi- 
 osities to be gazed at by the curious, and that the 
 particular beast about which the disputants con- 
 tended, would be seen laving its sides and swim- 
 ming in the very sheet of water on which they 
 had met.* As is not uncommon on such occa- 
 sions, one of the parties got a little warm in the 
 course of the discussion ; for Deerslayer met all 
 the arguments and prevarications of his subtle 
 opponent with his own cool directness of manner 
 and unmoved love of truth. What an elephant 
 was he knew little better than the savage ; but 
 he perfectly understood that the carved pieces of 
 ivory must have some such value in the eyes of 
 an Iroquois as a bag of gold, or a package of 
 beaver-skins, would in those of a trader. Under 
 the circumstances, therefore, he felt it to be pru- 
 dent not to concede too much at first, since there 
 existed a nearly unconquerable obstacle to mak- 
 ing the transfers, even after the contracting par- 
 ties had actually agreed upon the terms. Keep- 
 ing this difficulty in view, he held the extra chess- 
 men in reserve as a means of smoothing any diffi- 
 culty in the moment of need. 
 
 At length the savage pretended that further 
 negotiation was useless, since he could not be so 
 unjust to his tribe as to part with the honor and 
 emoluments of two excellent, full grown male 
 scalps, for a consideration so trifling as a toy like 
 that he had seen — and he prepared to take his 
 departure. Both parties now felt as men are 
 wont to feel, when a bargain that each is anxious 
 to conclude, is on the eve of being broken off in 
 consequence of too much pertinacity in the way 
 of management. The effect of the disappointment 
 was very different, however, on the respective in- 
 dividuals. Deerslayer was mortified, and filled 
 with regret ; for he not only felt for the prisoners, 
 but he also felt deeply for the two girls. The 
 conclusion of the treaty, therefore, left him mel- 
 ancholy and full of regret. With the savage, his 
 defeat produced the desire of revenge. In a mo- 
 ment of excitement, he loudly announced his in- 
 
 * Tlie Otsego is a favorite place for the caravan-keepers 
 to let their elephants bathe. The writer has seen two at a 
 time, since the publication of this book, swimming about in 
 eompany, 
 
 tention to say no more ; and he felt equally en- 
 raged with himself and with his cool opponent, 
 that he had permitted a pale-face to manifest 
 more indifference and self-command than an In- 
 dian chief. When he began to urge his raft away 
 from the platform, his countenance lowered, and 
 his eye glowed even while he affected a smile of 
 amity and a gesture of courtesy, at parting. 
 
 It took some little time to overcome the vis iner - 
 tice of the logs, and while this was doing by the silent 
 Indian, Rivenoak stalked over the hemlock-boughs 
 that lay between the logs, in sullen ferocity, ey- 
 ing keenly the while the hut, the platform, and 
 the person of his late disputant. Once he spoke 
 in low, quick terms to his companion, and he 
 stirred the boughs with his feet, like an animal 
 that is restive. At that moment the watchfulness 
 of Deerslayer had a little abated, for he sat mus- 
 ing on the means of renewing the negotiation 
 without giving too much advantage to the other 
 side. It was, perhaps, fortunate for him that the 
 keen and bright eyes of Judith were as vigilant 
 as ever. At the instant when the young man was 
 least on his guard, and his enemy was the most 
 on the alert, she called out in a warning voice to 
 the former, most opportunely giving the alarm. 
 
 “ Be on your guard, Deerslayer,” the girl cried ; 
 “ I see rifles, with the glass, beneath the hemlock- 
 brush, and the Iroquois is loosening them with 
 his feet ! ” 
 
 It would seem that the enemy had carried 
 their artifices so far as to employ an agent wins 
 understood English. The previous dialogue had 
 taken place in his own language, but it was evi- 
 dent, by the sudden manner in which his feet 
 ceased their treacherous occupation, and in which 
 the countenance of Rivenoak changed from sul- 
 len ferocity to a smile of courtesy, that the call 
 of the girl was understood. Signing to his com- 
 panion to cease his efforts to set the logs in mo- 
 tion, he advanced to the end of the raft which 
 was nearest to the platform, and spoke. 
 
 “ Why should Rivenoak and his brother leave 
 any cloud between them ? ” he said. “ They are 
 both wise, both brave, and both generous ; they 
 ought to part friends. One beast shall be the 
 price of one prisoner.” 
 
 “ And, Mingo,” answered the other, delighted 
 to renew the negotiation on almost any terms, and 
 determined to clinch the bargain if possible by a 
 little extra liberality, “ you’ll see that a pale-face 
 knows how to pay a full price, when he trades 
 with an open heart and an open hand. Keep the 
 beast that you had forgotten to give back to me, 
 as you was about to start, and which I forgot to 
 ask for, on account of consarn at parting in ao- 
 
108 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 ger. Show it to your chiefs. When you bring us 
 our fri’nds, two more shall be added to it — and — ” 
 hesitating a moment in distrust of the expedi- 
 ency of so great a concession, then deciding in its 
 favor — “ and, if we see them afore the sun sets, 
 we may find a fourth to make up an even num- 
 ber.” 
 
 This settled the matter. Every gleam of dis- 
 content vanished from the dark countenance of 
 the Iroquois, and he smiled as graciously, if not 
 as sweetly, as Judith Hutter herself. The piece 
 already in his possession was again examined, and 
 an ejaculation of pleasure showed how much he 
 was pleased with this unexpected termination of 
 the affair. In point of fact, both he and Deer- 
 slayer had momentarily forgotten what had be- 
 come of the subject of their discussion, in the 
 warmth of their feelings ; but such had not been 
 the case with Rivenoak’s companion. This man 
 retained the piece, and had fully made up his 
 mind, were it claimed under such circumstances 
 as to render its return necessary, to drop it in 
 the lake, trusting to his being able to find it again 
 at some future day. This desperate expedient, 
 however, was no longer necessary ; and, after re- 
 peating the terms of agreement, and professing to 
 understand them, the two Indians finally took 
 their departure, moving slowly toward the shore. 
 
 “ Can any faith be put in such wretches ? ” 
 asked Judith, when she and Hetty had come out 
 on the platform, and were standing at the side of 
 Deerslayer, watching the dull movement of the 
 logs. “ Will they not rather keep the toy they 
 have, and send us off some bloody proofs of their 
 getting the better of us in cunning, by way of 
 boasting ? I’ve heard of acts as bad as this.” 
 
 “ No doubt — Judith ; no manner of doubt, if 
 it wasn’t for Indian natur’. But I’m no judge of 
 a red-skin, if that two-tailed beast doesn’t set the 
 whole tribe in some such stir as a stick raises in 
 a beehive ! Now, there’s the Sarpent ; a man 
 with narves like flint, and no more cur’osity in 
 every-day consarns than is befitting prudence. — 
 Why, he was so overcome with the sight of the 
 creatur’, carved as it is in bone, that I felt 
 ashamed for him ! That’s just their gifts, how- 
 ever, and one can’t well quarrel with a man for 
 his gifts, when they are lawful. Chingachgook will 
 3J>on get over his weakness, and remember that 
 he’s a chief, and that he comes of a great stock, 
 and has a renowned name to support and uphold ; 
 but, as for yonder scamps, there’ll be no peace 
 among ’em, until they think they’ve got posses- 
 sion of every thing of the natur’ of that bit of 
 carved bone that’s to be found among Thomas 
 Hutter’s stores 1 ” 
 
 “ They only know of the elephants, and can 
 have no hopes about the other things.” 
 
 “ That’s true, Judith ; still, covetousness is a 
 craving feelin’. They'll say, ‘ If the pale-faces have 
 these curious beasts with two tails, who knows 
 but they’ve got some with three, or, for that mat- 
 ter, with four ! ’ That’s what the school-masters 
 call nat’ral arithmetic, and ’twill be sartain to be- 
 set the feelin’s of savages. They’ll never be easy 
 till the truth is known.” 
 
 “ Do you think, Deerslayer,” inquired Hetty, 
 in her simple and innocent manner, “that the 
 Iroquois won’t let father and Hurry go ? — I read 
 to them several of the very best verses in the 
 whole Bible, and you see what they have done 
 already.” 
 
 The hunter, as he always did, listened kindly 
 and even affectionately to Hetty’s remarks ; then 
 he mused a moment in silence. There was some- 
 thing like a flush on his cheek as he answered, 
 after quite a minute had passed : 
 
 “ I don’t know whether a white man ought to 
 be ashamed or not, to own he can’t read ; but 
 such is my case, Judith. You are skilful, I find, 
 in all such matters, while I have only studied the 
 hand of God, as it is seen in the hills and the val- 
 leys, the mountain-tops, the streams, the forest, 
 and the springs. Much Taming may be got in 
 this way, as well as out of books ; and yet, I 
 sometimes think, it is a white man’s gift to read. 
 When I hear from the mouths of the Moravians 
 the words of which Hetty speaks, they raise a 
 longing in my mind, and I think I will know how 
 to read ’em myself ; but the game in summer, and 
 the traditions, and lessons in war, and other mat- 
 ters, have always kept me behindhand.” 
 
 “ Shall I teach you, Deerslayer ? ” asked Het- 
 ty, earnestly. “ I’m weak-minded, they say, but 
 I can read as well as Judith. It might save your 
 fife to know how to read the Bible to the savages, 
 and it will certainly save your soul ; Ibr mother 
 told me that , again and again ! ” 
 
 “ Thankee, Hetty — yes, thankee, with all my 
 heart. There are like to be too stirring times for 
 much idleness ; but, after it’s peace, and I come 
 to see you ag’in on this lake, then I’ll give my- 
 self up to it, as if ’twas pleasure and profit, in a 
 single business. — Perhaps I ought to be ashamed, 
 Judith, that ’tis so ; but truth is truth. As for 
 these Iroquois, ’tisn’t very likely they’ll forget a 
 beast with two tails, on account of a varse or two 
 from the Bible. I rather expect they’ll give up 
 the prisoners, and trust to some sarcumvention 
 or other to get ’em back ag’in, with us and all 
 in the castle, and the ark in the bargain. Hows- 
 ever, we must humor the vagabonds first, to ge* 
 
THE TWO RANSOMED PRISONERS. 
 
 109 
 
 jrour father and Hurry out of their hands, and 
 next, to keep the peace atween us, until such 
 time as the Sarpent there can make out to get 
 off his betrothed wife. If there’s any sudden 
 outbreakin’ of anger and ferocity, the Indians will 
 send off all their women and children to the camp 
 at once ; whereas, by keeping ’em calm and trust- 
 ful, we may manage to meet Hist at the spot she 
 has mentioned. Rather than have the bargain 
 fall through now, I’d throw in half a dozen of 
 them effigy bow-and-arrow men, such as we’ve in 
 plenty in the chist.” 
 
 Judith cheerfully assented, for she would have 
 resigned even the flowered brocade, rather than 
 not redeem her father and please Deerslayer. 
 
 The prospects of success were now so encour- 
 aging as to raise the spirits of all in the castle, 
 though a due watchfulness on the movements of 
 the enemy was maintained. Hour passed after 
 hour, notwithstanding, and the sun had once more 
 begun to fall toward the summits of the western 
 hills, and yet no signs were seen of the return of 
 the raft. By dint of sweeping the shore with the 
 glass, Deerslayer at length discovered a place in 
 the dense and dark woods, where, he entertained 
 no doubt, the Iroquois were assembled in consid- 
 erable numbers. It was near the thicket whence 
 the raft had issued, and a little rill that trickled 
 into the lake announced the vicinity of a spring. 
 Here, then, the savages were probably holding 
 their consultation, and the decision was to be 
 made that went to settle the question of life or 
 death for the prisoners. There was one ground 
 for hope in spite of the delay, however, that Deer- 
 slayer did not fail to place before his anxious com- 
 panions. It was far more probable that the In- 
 dians had left their prisoners in the camp, than 
 that they had encumbered themselves by causing 
 them to follow through the woods a party that 
 was out on a merely temporary excursion. If 
 such was the fact, it required considerable time 
 to send a messenger the necessary distance, and 
 to bring the two white men to the spot where 
 they were to embark. Encouraged by these re- 
 flections, a new stock of patience was gathered, 
 and the declension of the sun was viewed with 
 less alarm. 
 
 The result justified Deerslayer’s conjecture. 
 Not long before the sun had finally disappeared, 
 the two logs were seen coming out of the thicket 
 again; and, as it drew near, Judith announced 
 that her father and Hurry, both of them pinioned, 
 lay on the bushes in the centre. As before, the 
 Indians were rowing. The latter seemed to be 
 conscious that the lateness of the hour demanded 
 ttnusual exertions, and, contrary to the habits of 
 
 their people, who are ever averse to toil, they 
 labored hard at the rude substitutes for oars. In 
 consequence of this diligence, the raft occupied 
 its old station in about half the time that had 
 been taken in the previous visits. 
 
 Even after the conditions were so well under- 
 stood, and matters had proceeded so far, the act- 
 ual transfer of the prisoners was not a duty to be 
 executed without difficulty. The Iroquois were 
 compelled to place great reliance on the good 
 faith of their foes, though it was reluctantly given, 
 and was yielded to necessity rather than to confi- 
 dence. As soon as Hutter and Hurry should be 
 released, the party in the castle numbered two to 
 one, as opposed to those on the raft, and escape 
 by flight was out of the question, as the former 
 had three bark canoes, to say nothing of the de- 
 fences of the house and the ark. All this was 
 understood by both parties, and it is probable the 
 arrangement never could have been completed, 
 had not the honest countenance and manner of 
 Deerslayer wrought their usual effect on Riven- 
 oak. 
 
 “ My brother knows I put faith in Aim,” said 
 the latter as he advanced with Hutter, whose legs 
 had been released to enable the old man to ascend 
 the platform. “ One scalp — one more beast.” 
 
 “ Stop, Mingo,” interrupted the hunter, “ keep 
 your prisoner a moment. I have to go and seek 
 the means of payment.” 
 
 This excuse, however, though true in part, was 
 principally a fetch. Deerslayer left the platform, 
 and, entering the house, he directed Judith to 
 collect all the arms, and to conceal them in her 
 own room. He then spoke earnestly to the 
 Delaware, who stood on guard as before, near 
 the entrance of the building, put the three re- 
 maining castles in his pocket, and returned. 
 
 “You are welcome back to your old abode, 
 Master Hutter,” said Deerslayer, as he helped the 
 other up on the platform, slyly passing into the 
 hand of Rivenoak, at the same time, another 
 of the castles. “ You’ll find your darters right 
 glad to see you ; and here’s Hetty come herself to 
 say as much in her own behalf.” 
 
 Here the hunter stopped speaking, and broke 
 out into a hearty fit of his silent and peculiar 
 laughter. Hurry’s legs were just released, and he 
 had been placed on his feet. Sc tightly had the 
 ligatures been drawn, that the use of his limbs 
 was not immediately recovered, and the young 
 giant presented, in good sooth, a very helplesi 
 and a somewhat ludicrous picture. It was this 
 unusual spectacle, particularly the bewildered 
 countenance, that excited the merriment of Deer 
 slayer. 
 
ilO 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “You look like a girdled pine in a clearin’, 
 Harry Hurry, that is rocking in a gale,” said 
 Deerslayer, checking his unseasonable mirth, more 
 from delicacy to the others than from any respect 
 to the liberated captive. “ I’m glad, howsever, to 
 see that you haven’t had your hair dressed by any 
 of the Iroquois barbers, in your late visit to their 
 camp.” 
 
 “Harkee, Deerslayer,” returned the other, a 
 little fiercely, “ it will be prudent for you to deal 
 less in mirth and more in friendship on this occa- 
 sion. Act like a Christian for once, and not like 
 a laughing gal in a country school, when the 
 master’s back is turned, and just tell me whether 
 there’s any feet or not at the end of these legs of 
 mine. I think I can see them, but as for feelin’, 
 they might as well be down on the banks of the 
 Mohawk, as where they seem to be.” 
 
 “You’ve come off whole, Hurry, and that’s 
 not a little,” answered the other, secretly passing 
 to the Indian the remainder of the stipulated ran- 
 som, and making an earnest sign, at the same mo- 
 ment, for him to commence his retreat. “ You’ve 
 come off whole, feet and all, and are only a little 
 numb, from a tight fit of the withes. Natur’ ’ll 
 soon set the blood in motion, and then you may 
 begin to dance, to celebrate what I call a most 
 wonderful and onexpected deliverance from a den 
 of wolves.” 
 
 Deerslayer released the arms of his friends, as 
 each landed, and the two were now stamping and 
 limping about on the platform, growling, and ut- 
 tering denunciations, as they endeavored to help 
 the returning circulation. They had been teth- 
 ered too long, however, to regain the use of their 
 limbs in a moment ; and, the Indians being quite 
 as diligent on their return as on their advance, 
 the raft was fully a hundred yards from the castle 
 when Hurry, turning accidentally in that direc- 
 tion, discovered how fast it was getting beyond 
 the reach of his vengeance. By this time he 
 could move with tolerable facility, though still 
 numb and awkward. Without considering his 
 own situation, however, he seized the rifle that 
 leaned against the shoulder of Deerslayer, and at- 
 tempted to cock and present it. The young 
 hunter was too quick for him. Seizing the piece, 
 he wrenched it from the hands of the giant ; not, 
 however, until it had gone off in the struggle, 
 when pointed directly upward. It is probable 
 that Deerslayer could have prevailed in such a 
 contest, on account of the condition of Hurry’s 
 limbs ; but the instant the gun went off the latter 
 yielded, and stumped toward the house, raising 
 his legs at each step quite a foot from the ground, 
 fvom an uncertainty of the actual position of his 
 
 feet. But he had been anticipated by Judith. 
 The whole stock of Hutter’s arms, which had 
 been left in the building as a resource in the 
 event of a sudden outbreaking of hostilities, had 
 been removed, and were already secreted, agree- 
 ably to Deerslayer’s directions. In consequence 
 of this precaution, no means offered by which 
 March could put his designs into execution. 
 
 Disappointed in his vengeance, Hurry seated 
 himself, and like Hutter, for half an hour, he was 
 too much occupied in endeavoring to restore the 
 circulation, and in regaining the use of his limbs, 
 to indulge in any other reflections. By the end 
 of this time the raft had disappeared, and night 
 was beginning to throw her shadows once more 
 over the whole sylvan scene. Before darkness 
 had completely set in, and while the girls were 
 preparing the evening meal, Deerslayer related to 
 Hutter an outline of the events that had taken 
 place, and gave him a history of the means he 
 had adopted for the security of his children and 
 property. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 “ As long 1 as Edwarde rules tbys lande, 
 
 Ne quiet you wylle know; 
 
 Tour sonnes and husbandes shall be slayne, 
 
 And brookes with bloode shall flowe.” 
 
 “You leave youre goode and lawfulle kynge, 
 Wbenne ynne adversitye ; 
 
 Like me, untoe the true cause stycke, 
 
 And for the true cause dye.” 
 
 CHATTEBTON. 
 
 The calm of evening was again in singular 
 contrast, while its gathering gloom was in as sin- 
 gular unison with the passions of men. The sun 
 set, and the rays of the retiring luminary ceased 
 to gild the edges of the few clouds that had suffi- 
 cient openings to admit the passage of its fading 
 light. The canopy overhead was heavy and 
 dense, promising another night of darkness, but 
 the surface of the lake was scarcely disturbed by 
 a ripple. There was a little air, though it scarce 
 deserved to be termed wind. Still, being damp 
 and heavy, it had a certain force. The party in 
 the castle were as gloomy and silent as the scene 
 The two ransomed prisoners felt humbled and 
 dishonored, but their humility partook of the 
 rancor of revenge. They were far more disposed 
 to remember the indignity with which they had 
 been treated during the last few hours of their 
 captivity, than to feel grateful for the previous 
 indulgence. Then that keen-sighted monitor con- 
 science, by reminding them of the retributive jus- 
 
A DECLARATION OF WAR. 
 
 Ill 
 
 lice of all they had endured, goaded them rather 
 to turn the tables on their enemies than to accuse 
 themselves. As for the others, they were thought- 
 ful equally from regret and joy. Dcerslayer and 
 Judith felt most of the former sensation, though 
 from very different causes, while Hetty, for the 
 moment, was perfectly happy. The Delaware had 
 also lively pictures of felicity in the prospect of 
 so soon regaining his betrothed. Under such cir- 
 cumstances, and in this mood, all were taking the 
 evening meal. 
 
 “ Old Tom ! ” cried Hurry, bursting into a fit 
 of boisterous laughter, “you looked amazinTy 
 like a tethered bear, as you was stretched on 
 them hemlock-boughs, and I only wonder you 
 didn’t growl more. Well, it’s over, and syth’s 
 and lamentations won’t mend the matter. There’s 
 the blackguard Rivenoak, he that brought us off, 
 has an oncommon scalp, and I’d give as much for 
 it myself as the colony. ¥03, I feel as rich as 
 the governor, in these matters now, and will lay 
 down with them doubloon for doubloon. — Judith, 
 darling, did you mourn for me much, when I was 
 in the hands of the Philipstein3 ? ” 
 
 The last were a family of German descent on 
 the Mohawk, to whom Hurry had a great an- 
 tipathy, and whom he had confounded with the 
 enemies of Judea. 
 
 “ Our tears have raised the lake, Harry March, 
 as you might have seen by the shore ! ” returned 
 Judith, with a feigned levity that she was far 
 from feeling. “ That Hetty and I should have 
 grieved for father, was to be expected ; but we 
 fairly rained tears for you.” 
 
 “We were sorry for poor Hurry, as well as 
 for father, Judith ! ” put in her innocent and un- 
 conscious sister. 
 
 “ True, girl, true ! but we feel sorrow for ever- 
 body that’s in trouble, you know,” returned the 
 other in a quick, admonitory manner, and a low 
 tone. — “Nevertheless, we are glad to see you, 
 Master March, and out of the hands of the Philip- 
 steins, too.” 
 
 “Yes, they’re a bad set, and so is the other 
 brood of ’em, down on the river. It’s a wonder- 
 ment to me how you got us off, Deerslayer ; and 
 I forgive you the interference that prevented my 
 doin’ justice on that vagabond, for this small 
 sarvice. Let us into the secret, that we may do 
 you the same good turn, at need. Was it by lying, 
 or by coaxing ? ” 
 
 “By neither, Hurry, but by buying. We 
 paid a ransom for you both, and that, too, at a 
 price so high, you had well be on your guard ag’in 
 another captyvement, lest our stock of goods 
 shouldn’t hold out.” 
 
 8 
 
 “ A ransom ! — Old Tom has paid tfie fiddler, 
 then, for nothing of mine would have bought off 
 the hair, much less the skin. I didn’t think men 
 as keen set as them vagabonds would let a fellow 
 up so easy, when they had him fairly at a close 
 hug, and floored. But money is money, and some- 
 how it’s unnat’ral hard to withstand. Injin, or 
 white man, ’tis pretty much the same. — It must 
 be owned, Judith, there’s a considerable of hu- 
 man natur’ in mankind ginirally, after all ! ” 
 
 Hutter now rose, and, signing to Deerslayer, 
 he led him to an inner room, where, in answer to 
 his questions, he first learned the price that had 
 been paid for his release. The old man ex 
 pressed neither resentment nor surprise at the in- 
 road that had been made on his chest, though he 
 did manifest some curiosity to know how far the 
 investigation of its contents had been carried. 
 He also inquired where the key had been found. 
 The habitual frankness of Deerslayer prevented 
 any prevarication, and the conference soon termi- 
 nated by the return of the two to the outer room, 
 or that which served for the double purpose of 
 parlor and kitchen. 
 
 “I wonder if it’s peace or war between us 
 and the savages ! ” exclaimed Hurry, just as 
 Deerslayer, who had paused for a single instant, 
 listened attentively, and was passing through the 
 outer door without stopping. <‘This givin’ up 
 captives has a friendly look, and when men have 
 traded together, on a fair and honorable footing, 
 they ought to part fri’nds, for that occasion, at 
 least. Gome back, Deerslayer, and let us have 
 your judgment, for I’m beginnin’ to think more 
 of you, since your late behavior, than I used to 
 do.” 
 
 “ There’s an answer to your question, Hurry, 
 since you’re in such haste to come ag’in to blows.” 
 
 As Deerslayer spoke, he threw on the table, on 
 which the other was reclining with one elbow, a 
 sort of miniature fagot, composed of a dozen 
 sticks bound tightly together with a deer-skin 
 thong. March seized it -eagerly, and holding it 
 close to a blazing knot of pine that lay on the 
 hearth, and which gave out all the light there 
 was in the room, ascertained that the ends of the 
 several sticks had been dipped in blood. 
 
 “ If this isn’t plain English,” said the reck 
 less frontier man, “ it’s plain Injin ! Here’s wha 
 they call a dicliration of war, down at York, Ju 
 dith. — How did you come by this defiance, Deer- 
 slayer ? ” 
 
 “ Fairly enough. It lay, not a minut’ since, 
 in what you call Floatin’ Tom’s door-yard.” 
 
 “ How came it there ? It never fell from the 
 clouds, Judith, as little toads sometimes do, and 
 
112 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 then it don’t rain. — You must prove where it 
 eome from, or, Deerslayer, we shall suspect some 
 design to shear them that would have lost their 
 wits long ago, if fear could drive ’em away.” 
 
 Deerslayer had approached a window, and 
 cast a glance out of it on the dark aspect of the 
 lake. As if satisfied with what he beheld, he 
 drew near Hurry, and took the bundle of sticks 
 into his own hand, examining it attentively. 
 
 “ Yes, this is an Indian declaration of war, 
 sure enough,” he said, “ and it’s a proof how lit- 
 tle you’re suited to be on the path it has trav- 
 elled, Harry March, that it has got here, and you 
 never the wiser as to the means. The savages 
 may have left the scalp on your head, but they 
 must have taken off the ears ; else you’d have 
 heard the stirring of the water made by the lad 
 as he came off ag’in on his two logs. His ar’n’d 
 was to throw these sticks at our door, as much 
 as to say, ‘ W e’ ve struck the war-post since the 
 trade, and the next thing will be to strike 
 you .’ ” 
 
 “ The prowling wolves ! — But hand me that 
 rifle, Judith, and I’ll send an answer back to the 
 vagabonds through their messenger.” 
 
 “ Not while I stand by, Master March,” coolly 
 put in Deerslayer, motioning for the other to for- 
 bear. “ Faith is faith, whether given to a red- 
 skin or to a Christian. The lad lighted a knot, 
 and came off fairly, under its blaze, to give us 
 this warning ; and no man here should harm him 
 while empl’yed on such an ai’’n’d. There’s no 
 use in words, for the boy is too cunning to leave 
 the knot burning, now his business is done, and 
 the night is already too dark for a rifle to have 
 any sartainty.” 
 
 “ That may be true enough, as to a gun, but 
 there’s virtue still in a canoe,” answered Hurry, 
 passing toward the door with enormous strides, 
 carrying a rifle in his hands. “ The being doesn’t 
 live that shall stop me from following, and bring- 
 ing back that riptyle's scalp. The more on ’em 
 that you crush in the egg, the fewer there’ll be to 
 dart at you in the woods ! ” 
 
 Judith trembled like the aspen, she scarce 
 knew why herself, though there was the prospect 
 of a scene of violence ; “ for, if Hurry was fierce 
 and overbearing in the consciousness of his vast 
 strength, Deerslayer had about him the calm de- 
 termination that promises greater perseverance, 
 and a resolution more likely to effect its object. 
 It was the stern, resolute eye of the latter, rather 
 than the noisy vehemence of the first, that ex- 
 cited her apprehensions. Hurry soon reached 
 the spot where the canoe was fastened, but not 
 before Deerslayer had spoken in a quick, earnest 
 
 voice to the Serpent, in Delaware. The lattei 
 had been the first, in truth, to hear the sounds 
 of the oars, and he had gone upon the platform 
 in jealous watchfulness. The light satisfied him 
 that a message was coming, and when the boy 
 cast his bundle of sticks at his feet, it neither 
 moved his anger nor induced surprise. He merely 
 stood at watch, rifle in hand, to make certain that 
 no treachery lay behind the defiance. As Deeiv 
 slayer now called to him, he stepped into the ca 
 noe, and quick as thought removed the paddles. 
 Hurry was furious when he found that he was 
 deprived of the means of proceeding. He first 
 approached the Indian with loud menaces, and 
 even Deerslayer stood aghast at the probable 
 consequences. March shook his sledge-hammer 
 fists and flourished his arms, as he drew near the 
 Indian, and all expected he would attempt to fell 
 the Delaware to the earth ; one of them, at least, 
 was well aware that such an experiment would 
 be followed by immediate bloodshed. But even 
 Hurry was awed by the stern composure of the 
 chief, and he, too, knew that such a man was not 
 to be outraged with impunity; he, therefore, 
 turned to vent his rage on Deerslayer, where he 
 foresaw no consequences so terrible. What might 
 have been the result of this second demonstra- 
 tion, if completed, is unknown, since it was never 
 made. 
 
 “ Hurry,” said a gentle, soothing voice at his 
 elbow, “ it’s wicked to be so angry, and God will 
 not overlook it. The Iroquois treated you well, 
 and they didn’t take your scalp, though you and 
 father wanted to take theirs .” 
 
 The influence of mildness on passion is well 
 known. Hetty, too, had earned a sort of con- 
 sideration, that had never before been enjoyed by 
 her, through the self-devotion and decision of her 
 recent conduct. Perhaps her established mental 
 imbecility, by removing all distrust of a wish to 
 control, aided her influence. Let the cause be 
 as questionable as it might, the effect was suffi- 
 ciently certain. Instead of throttling his old fel- 
 low-traveller, Hurry turned to the girl, and 
 poured out a portion of his discontent, if non** 
 of his anger, in her attentive ears. 
 
 “ ’Tis tod bad, Hetty ! ” he exclaimed ; “ as 
 bad as a county jail, or a lack of beaver, to get 
 a creatur’ into your very trap, and then to see it 
 get off. As much as six first-quality skins, in 
 valie, has paddled off on them clumsy logs, when 
 twenty strokes of a well-turned paddle would 
 overtake ’em. I say in valie, for as to the boy 
 in the way of natur’, he is only a boy, and is 
 worth neither more nor less than one. — Deer- 
 slayer, you’ve been ontrue to your fri’nds in let- 
 
PRIVATE CONFERENCES. 
 
 113 
 
 ting such a chance slip through my fingers as 
 well as your own.” 
 
 The answer was given quietly, but with a 
 voice as steady as a fearless nature and the 
 consciousness of rectitude could make it. “I 
 should have been ontrue to the right, had I done 
 otherwise,” returned Deerslayer, steadily; “and 
 neither you nor any other man has authority to 
 demand that much of me. The lad came on a 
 lawful business, and the meanest red-skin that 
 roams the woods would be ashamed of not re- 
 specting his ar’n’d. But he’s now far beyond 
 your reach, Master March, and there’s little use 
 in talking, like a couple of women, of what can 
 no longer be helped.” 
 
 So saying, Deerslayer turned away, like one 
 resolved to waste no more words on the subject, 
 while Hutter pulled Harry by the sleeve, and led 
 him into the ark. There they sat long in private 
 conference. In the mean time' the Indian and his 
 friend had their, secret consultation ; for, though 
 it wanted some three or four hours to the rising 
 of the star, the former could not abstain from 
 canvassing his scheme, and from opening tys 
 heart to the other. Judith, too, yielded to her 
 softer feelings, and listened to the whole of Het- 
 ty’s artless narrative of what occurred after she 
 had landed. The woods had few terrors for either 
 of these girls, educated as they had been, and 
 accustomed as they were to look out daily at 
 their rich expanse, or to wander beneath their 
 dark shades ; but the elder sister felt that she 
 would have hesitated about thus venturing alone 
 into an Iroquois camp. Concerning Hist, Hetty 
 was not very communicative. She spoke of her 
 kindness and gentleness, and of the meeting in 
 the forest ; but the secret of Chingachgook was 
 guarded with a shrewdness and fidelity that 
 many a sharper-witted girl might have failed to 
 display. 
 
 At length the several conferences were broken 
 up by the reappearance of Hutter on the plat- 
 form. Here he assembled the whole party, and 
 communicated as much of his intentions as he 
 deemed expedient. Of the arrangement made 
 by Deerslayer, to abandon the castle during the 
 night, and to take refuge in the ark, he entirely 
 approved. It struck him, as it had the others, as 
 the only effectual means of escaping destruction. 
 Now that the savages had turned their attention 
 to the construction of rafts, no doubt could exist 
 of their at least making an attempt to carry the 
 building, and the message of the bloody sticks 
 sufficiently showed their confidence in their own 
 success. In short, the old man viewed the night 
 is critical, and he called, on all to get ready as 
 8 
 
 soon as possible, in order to abandon the dwell- 
 ing, temporarily at least, if not forever. 
 
 These communications made, every thing pro- 
 ceeded promptly, and with intelligence ; the castle 
 was secured in the manner already described, the 
 canoes were withdrawn from the dock and fastened 
 to the ark by the side of the other ; the few neces- 
 saries that had been left in the house were trans- 
 ferred to the cabin, the fire was extinguished, and 
 all embarked. 
 
 The vicinity of the hills, with their drapery 
 of pines, had the effect to render nights that were 
 obscure darker than common on the lake. As 
 usual, however, a belt of comparative light was 
 stretched through the centre of the sheet, while it 
 was within the shadows of the mountains that the 
 gloom rested most heavily on the water. The 
 island or castle stood in this belt of comparative 
 light, but still the night was sb dark as to cover 
 the departure of the ark. At the distance of an 
 observer on the shore, her movements could not 
 be seen at all, more particularly as a background 
 of dark hill-side filled up the perspective of every 
 view that was taken diagonally or directly across 
 the water. The prevalent wind on the lakes- of 
 that region is west, but owing to the avenues 
 formed by the mountains, it is frequently impos- 
 sible to tell the true direction of the currents, as 
 they often vary within short distances, and brief 
 differences of time. This is truer in light fluotu- 
 ating puffs of air than m steady breezes ; though 
 the squalls of even the latter are familiarly known 
 to be uncertain and baffling in all mountainous 
 regions and narrow waters. On the present oc- 
 casion, Hutter himself (as he shoved the ark from 
 her berth at the side of die platform) was at a 
 loss to pronounce which way the wind blew. In 
 common, this difficulty was solved by the clouds, 
 which, floating high above the hill-tops, as a mat- 
 ter of course obeyed the currents ; but now the 
 whole vault of heaven seemed a mass of gloomy 
 wall. Not an opening of any sort was visible, 
 and Chingachgook was already trembling lest the 
 non-appearance of the star might prevent his be- 
 trothed from being punctual to her appointment 
 Under these circumstances, Hutter hoisted his 
 sail, seemingly with the sole intention of getting 
 away from the castle, as it might be dangerous to 
 remain much longer in its vicinity. The air soon 
 filled the cloth, and when the scow was got under 
 command, and the sail was properly trimmed, it 
 was found that the direction was southerly, inclin- 
 ing toward the eastern shore. No better course 
 offering for the purposes of the party, the singular 
 craft was suffered to skim the surface of the water 
 in this direction for more than an hour, when a 
 
114 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 change in the currents of the air drove them over 
 toward the camp. 
 
 Deerslayer watched all the movements of flut- 
 ter and Harry with jealous attention. At first he 
 did not know whether to ascribe the course they 
 had held to accident or design ; but he now began 
 to suspect the latter. Familiar as Hutter was 
 with the lake, it was easy to deceive one who had 
 little practice on the water ; and, let his intentions 
 be what they might, it was evident, ere two hours 
 had elapsed, that the ark had got over sufficient 
 space to be within a hundred yards of the shore, 
 directly abreast of the known position of the 
 camp. For a considerable time previously to 
 reaching this point, Hurry, who had some knowl- 
 edge of the Algonquin language, had been in close 
 conference with the Indian, and the result was 
 now announced by the latter to Deerslayer, who 
 had been a cold, not to say distrusted looker-on 
 of all that passed. 
 
 “ My old father and my young brother, the 
 Big Pine ” — for so the Delaware had named 
 March — “ want to see Huron scalps at their belts,” 
 said Chingachgook to his friend. “ There is room 
 for some on the girdle of the Serpent, and his peo- 
 ple will look for them when he goes back to his 
 village. Their eyes must not be left long in a fog, 
 but they must see what they look for. I know 
 that my brother has a white hand ; he will not 
 strike even the dead. He will wait for us ; when 
 we come back he will not hide his face from 
 shame for his friend. The great Serpent of the 
 Mohicans must be worthy to go on the war-path 
 with Hawkeye.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, Sarpent, I see how it is ; that name’s 
 to stick, and, in time, I shall get to be known by 
 it instead of Deerslayer ; well, if such honors will 
 come, the humblest of us all must be willing to 
 abide by ’em. As for your looking for scalps, it 
 belongs to your gifts, and I see no harm in it. 
 Be marciful Sarpent, however ; be marciful, I be- 
 seech you. It surely can do no harm to a red- 
 skin’s honor to show a little marcy. As for the old 
 man, the father of two young women, who might 
 ripen better feelin’s in his heart, and Harry March 
 here, who, pine as he is, might better bear the 
 fruit of a more Christianized tree, as for them two> 
 
 I leave them in the hands of the white man’s God. 
 Wasn’t it for the bloody sticks, no man should go 
 ag’in the Mingoes this night, seein’ that it would 
 dishonor our faith and characters ; but them that 
 crave blood can’t complain if blood is shed at 
 their call. Still, Sarpent, you can be marciful. 
 Don’t begin your career with the wails of women 
 and the cries of children. Bear yourself so that 
 Hi3t will smile, and not weep, when she meets 
 
 you. Go, then ; and the Manitou presarvs 
 you ! ” 
 
 “ My brother will stay here with the scow. 
 Wah ! will soon be standing on the shore waiting, 
 and Chingachgook must hasten.” 
 
 The Indian then joined his two co-adventurers, 
 and, first lowering the sail, they all three entered 
 a canoe, and left the side of the ark. Neither 
 Hutter nor March spoke to Deerslayer concerning 
 their object, or the probable length of their ab- 
 sence. All this had been confided to the Indian, 
 who had acquitted himself of the trust with char- 
 acteristic brevity. As soon as the canoe was 
 out of sight, and that occurred ere the paddles 
 had given a dozen strokes, Deerslayer made the 
 best dispositions he could to keep the ark as 
 nearly stationary as possible; and then he sat 
 down in the end of the scow, to chew the cud of 
 his own bitter reflections. It was not long, how- 
 ever, before he was joined by Judith, who sought 
 every occasion to be near him, managing her at- 
 tack on his affections with the address that was 
 suggested by native coquetry, aided by no little 
 practice, but which received much of its most 
 dangerous power from the touch of feeling that 
 threw around her manner, voice, accents, thoughts* 
 and acts, the indescribable witchery of natural 
 tenderness. Leaving the young hunter exposed 
 to these dangerous assailants, it has become our 
 more immediate business to follow the party in 
 the canoe to the shore. 
 
 The controlling influence that led Hutter and 
 Hurry to repeat their experiment against the 
 camp was precisely that which induced the first 
 attempt, a little heightened, perhaps, by the de- 
 sire of revenge. But neither of these two rude 
 beings, so ruthless in all things that touched the 
 rights and interests of the red man, though pos- 
 sessing veins of human feeling on other matters, 
 was much actuated by any other desire than a 
 heartless longing for profit. Hurry had felt 
 angered at his sufferings, when first liberated, it 
 is true, but that emotion soon disappeared in the 
 habitual love of gold, which he sought with the 
 reckless avidity of a needy spendthrift, rather 
 than with the ceaseless longings of a miser. In 
 short, the motive that urged them both so soon to 
 go against the Hurons, was an habitual contempt 
 of their enemy, acting on the unceasing cupidity 
 of prodigality. The additional chances of success, 
 however, had their place in the formation of the 
 second enterprise. It was known that a large 
 portion of the warriors — perhaps all — were en- 
 camped for the night abreast of the castle, and it 
 was hoped that the scalps of helpless victimp 
 would be the consequence. To confess the truth 
 
PROWLING AFTER SCALPS. 
 
 115 
 
 Hutter in particular — lie who had just left two 
 daughters behind him — expected to find few be- 
 sides women and children in the camp. This fact 
 had been but slightly alluded to in his communi- 
 cations with Hurry, and with Chingachgook it had 
 been kept entirely out of view. If the Indian 
 thought of it at all, it was known only to himself. 
 
 Hutter steered the canoe ; Hurry had manfully 
 taken his post in the bows, and Chingachgook 
 stood in the centre. We say stood, for all three 
 were so skilled in the management of that species 
 of frail bark, as to be able to keep erect positions 
 in the midst of the darkness. The approach to 
 the shore was made with great caution, and the 
 landing effected in safety. The three now prepared 
 their arms, and began their tiger-like approach 
 upon the camp. The Indian was on the lead, 
 his two companions treading in his footsteps, with 
 a stealthy cautiousness of manner, that rendered 
 their progress almost literally noiseless. Occasion- 
 ally a dried twig snapped under the heavy weight 
 of the gigantic Hurry, or the blundering clumsiness 
 of the old man ; but, had the Indian walked on 
 air, his step could not have seemed lighter. The 
 great object was first to discover the position of 
 the fire, which was known to be the centre of 
 the whole encampment. At length the keen eye 
 of Chingachgook caught a glimpse of this im- 
 portant guide. It was glimmering at a distance 
 among the trunks of trees. There was no blaze, 
 but merely a single smouldering brand, as suited 
 the hour, the savages usually retiring and rising 
 with the revolutions of the sun. 
 
 As soon as a view was obtained of this beacon, 
 the progress of the adventurers became swifter 
 and more certain. In a few minutes they got to 
 the edge of the circle of little huts. Here they 
 stopped to survey their ground, and to concert 
 their movements. The darkness was so deep as 
 to render it difficult to distinguish any thing but 
 the glowing brand, the trunks of the nearest 
 trees, and the endless canopy of leaves that veiled 
 the clouded heaven. It was ascertained, how- 
 ever, that a hut was quite near, and Chingach- 
 gook attempted to reconnoitre its interior. The 
 manner in which the Indian approached the place 
 that was supposed to contain enemies, resembled 
 the wily advances of the cat on the bird. As he 
 drew near, he stooped to his hands and knees, 
 for the entrance was so low as to require this 
 attitude, even as a convenience. Before trusting 
 his head inside, however, he listened long to catch 
 the breathing of sleepers. No sound was audible, 
 and this human Serpent thrust his head in at the 
 door, or opening, as another serpent would have 
 peered in on the nest. Nothing rewarded the 
 
 hazardous experiment ; for, after feeling cautious- 
 ly with a hand, the place was found to be empty. 
 
 The Delaware proceeded in the same guarded 
 manner to one or two more of the huts, finding 
 all in the same situation. lie then returned to 
 his companions, and informed them that the Hu- 
 rons had deserted their camp. A little further 
 inquiry corroborated this fact, and it only re- 
 mained to return to the canoe. The different 
 manner m which the adventurers bore the dis- 
 appointment, is worthy of a passing remark. The 
 chief, who had landed solely with the hope of 
 acquiring renown, stood stationary, leaning against 
 a tree, waiting the pleasure of his companions. 
 He was mortified, and a little surprised, it is 
 true ; but he bore all with dignity, falling back 
 for support on the sweeter expectations that still 
 lay in reserve for that evening. It was true, he 
 could not now hope to meet his mistress with the 
 proofs of his daring and skill on his person, but 
 he might still hope to meet her ; and the warrior, 
 who was zealous in the search, might always hope 
 to be honored. On the other hand, Hutter and 
 Hurry, who had been chiefly instigated by the 
 basest of all human motives, the thirst of gain, 
 could scarce control their feelings. They went 
 prowling among the huts, as if they expected to 
 find some forgotten child or careless sleeper ; and 
 again and again did they vent their spite on the 
 insensible huts, several of which were actually 
 tom to pieces, and scattered about the place. 
 Nay, they even quarrelled with each other, and 
 fierce reproaches passed between them. It is 
 possible some serious consequences might have 
 occurred, had not the Delaware interfered to re- 
 mind them of the danger of being so unguarded, 
 and of the necessity of returning to the ark. 
 This checked the dispute, and in a few minutes 
 they were paddling sullenly back to the spot 
 where they hoped to find that vessel. 
 
 It has been said that Judith took her place at 
 the side of Deerslayer, soon after the adventurers 
 departed. For a short time the girl was silent, 
 and the hunter was ignorant which of the sisters 
 had approached him ; but he soon recognized the 
 rich, full-spirited voice of the elder, as her feel- 
 ings escaped in words. 
 
 “ This is a terrible life for women, Deerslay- 
 er ! ” she exclaimed. “ Would to Heaven I could 
 see an end of it ! ” 
 
 “ The life is well enough, Judith,” was the 
 answer, “being pretty much as it is used or 
 abused. What would you wish to see in its 
 place ? ” 
 
 “ I should be a thousand times happier to live 
 nearer to civilized beings — where there are farms 
 
116 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 and churches, and houses built as it might be by- 
 Christian hands ; and where my sleep at night 
 would be sweet and tranquil. A dwelling near 
 one of the forts would be far better than this 
 dreary place where we live.” 
 
 “ Nay, Judith, I can’t agree too lightly in the 
 truth of all this. If forts are good to keep off 
 inimies, they sometimes hold inimies of their own. 
 I don’t think ’twould be for your good, or the 
 good of Hetty, to live near one ; and If I must say 
 what 1 think, I’m afeard you are a little too near 
 as it is.” Deerslayer went on, in his own steady, 
 earnest manner, for the darkness concealed the 
 tints that colored the cheeks of the girl almost 
 to the brightness of crimson, while her own great 
 efforts suppressed the sounds of the breathing 
 that nearly choked her. “As for farms, they have 
 their uses, and there’s them that like to pass 
 their lives on ’em ; but what comfort can a man 
 look for in a clearin’, that he can’t find in double 
 quantities in the forest ? If air, and room, and 
 light, are a little craved, the windrows and the 
 streams will furnish ’em, or here are the lakes for 
 such as have bigger longings in that way ; but 
 where are you to find your shades, and laughing 
 springs, and leaping brooks, and vinerable trees, 
 a thousand years old, in a clearin’ ? You don’t 
 find them, but you find their disabled trunks, 
 marking the ’arth like head-stones in a grave- 
 yard. It seems to me that the people who live 
 in such places must be always thinkin’ of their 
 own inds, and of univarsal decay ; and that, too, 
 not of the decay that is brought about by time 
 and Natur’, but the decay that follows waste and 
 violence. Then as to churches, they are good, 
 I suppose, else wouldn’t good men uphold ’em. 
 But they are not altogether necessary. They 
 call ’em the temples of the Lord ; but, Judith, the 
 whole ’arth is a temple of the Lord to such as 
 have the right mind. Neither forts nor churches 
 make people happier of themselves. More- 
 over, all is contradiction in the settlements, while 
 all is concord in the woods. Forts and churches 
 almost always go together, and yet they’re down- 
 right contradictions; churches being for peace, 
 and forts for war. No, no — give me the strong 
 places of the wilderness, which is the trees, and 
 the churches, too, which are arbors raised by the 
 hand of Natur’.” 
 
 “Woman is not made for scenes like these, 
 Deerslayer ; scenes of which we shall have no 
 end, as long as this war lasts.” 
 
 “ If you mean women of white color, I rather 
 think you’re not far from the truth, gal ; but as 
 for the females of the red men, such visitations 
 are quite in character. Nothing would make 
 
 Hist, now, the bargained wife of yonder Dela- 
 ware, happier than to know that he is at this mo- 
 ment prowling around his nat’ral inimies, striving 
 after a scalp.” 
 
 “ Surely, surely, Deerslayer, she cannot be a 
 woman, and not feel concern when she thinks the 
 man she loves is in danger ! ” 
 
 “She doesn’t think of the danger, Judith, but 
 of the honor ; and, when the heart is desperately 
 set on such feelin’s, why there is little room to 
 crowd in fear. Hist is a kind, gentle, laughing, 
 pleasant creatur’, but she loves honor, as well as 
 any Delaware gal I ever know’d. She’s to meet 
 the Sarpent an hour hence, on the p’int where 
 Hetty landed, and no doubt she has her anxiety 
 about it, like any other woman ; but she’d be all 
 the happier did she know that her lover was at 
 this moment waylaying a Mingo for his scalp.” 
 
 “ If you really believe this, Deerslayer, no 
 wonder you lay so much stress on gifts. Certain 
 am I, that no white girl could feel any thing but 
 misery while she believed her betrothed in dan- 
 ger of his life. Nor do I suppose even you, un- 
 moved and calm as you ever seem to be, could 
 be at peace if you believed your Hist in danger:” 
 
 “ That’s a different matter — ’tis altogether a 
 different matter, Judith. Woman is too weak 
 and gentle to be intended to run such risks, and 
 man must feel for her. Yes, I rather think that’s 
 as much red natur’ as it’s white. But I have no 
 Hist, nor am I like to have ; for I hold it wrong 
 to mix colors, any way, except in friendship and 
 sarvices.” 
 
 “ In that you are and feel as a white man 
 should ! As for Hurry Harry, I do think it would 
 be all the same to him whether his wife were a 
 squaw or a governor’s daughter, provided she was 
 a little comely, and could help to keep his craving 
 stomach full.” 
 
 “You do March injustice, Judith; yes, you 
 do. The poor fellow dotes on you, and when a 
 man has ra’aly set his heart on such a creatur’, 
 it isn’t a Mingo, or even a Delaware gal, that’ll 
 be likely to unsettle his mind. You may laugh 
 at such men as Hurry and I, for we’re rough, and 
 unteached in the way of books and other knowl- 
 edge ; but we’ve our good p’ints as well as our 
 bad ones. An honest heart is not to be despised, 
 gal, even though it be not varsed in all the nice- 
 ties that please a female fancy.” 
 
 “ You, Deerslayer ! — And do you — can you, 
 for an instant, suppose I place you by the side of 
 Harry March ? No, no. I am not so far gone in 
 dulness as that. No one — man or woman — could 
 think of naming ycur honest heart, manly nature, 
 and simple truth, with the boisterous selfishness 
 
THE HURON CAMP DESERTED. 
 
 117 
 
 greedy avarice, and overbearing ferocity of Hen- 
 ry March. The very best that can be said of him, 
 is to be found in his name of Hurry Skurry, 
 which, if it means no great harm, means no great 
 good. Even my father, following his feelings with 
 the other, as he is doing at this moment, well 
 knows the difference between you. This I know, 
 for he has said as much to me, in plain language.” 
 
 Judith was a girl of quick sensibilities and 
 of impetuous feelings ; and, being under few of 
 the restraints that curtail the manifestations of 
 maiden emotions among those who are educated 
 in the habits of civilized life, she sometimes be- 
 trayed the latter with a freedom that was so pure- 
 ly natural as to place it as far above the wiles of 
 coquetry as it was superior to its heartlessness. 
 She had now even taken one of the hard hands 
 of the hunter and pressed it between both her 
 own, with a warmth and earnestness that proved 
 how sincere was her language. It was perhaps 
 fortunate that she was checked by the very excess 
 of her feelings, since the same power might have 
 urged her on to avow all that her father had said 
 — the old man not having been satisfied with 
 making a comparison favorable to Deerslayer, as 
 between the hunter and Hurry, but having actu- 
 ally, in his blunt, rough way, briefly advised his 
 daughter to cast off the latter entirely, and to 
 think of the former as a husband. Judith would 
 not willingly have said this to any other man, but 
 there was so much confidence awakened by the 
 guileless simplicity of Deerslayer, that one of her 
 nature found it a constant temptation to overstep 
 the bounds of habit. She went no further, how- 
 ever, immediately relinquishing the hand, and 
 falling back on a reserve that was more suited to 
 her sex, and, indeed, to her natural modesty. 
 
 “ Thank’ee, Judith, thank’ee with all my 
 heart,” returned the hunter, whose humility pre- 
 vented him from placing any flattering interpre- 
 tation on either the conduct or the language of 
 the girl. “ Thank’ee as much as if it was all true. 
 Harry’s sightly — yes, he’s as sightly as the tallest 
 pine of these mountains, and the Sarpent has 
 named him accordingly; howsever, some fancy 
 good looks, and some fancy good conduct, only. 
 Hurry has one advantage, and it depends on him- 
 self whether he’ll have t’other or — Hark ! that’s 
 your father’s voice, gal, and he speaks like a 
 man who’s riled at something.” 
 
 “ God save us from any more of these horrible 
 scenes ! ” exclaimed Judith, bending her face to 
 her knees, and endeavoring to exclude the dis- 
 cordant sounds, by applying her hands to her 
 ears. “ I sometimes wish I had no father ! ” 
 
 This was bitterly said, and the repinings which 
 
 extorted the words were bitterly felt. It is im. 
 possible to say what might next have escaped her 
 had not a gentle, low voice spoken at her elbow. 
 
 “ Judith, I ought to have read a chapter to 
 father and Hurry ! ” said the innocent, but terri- 
 fied speaker, “ and that would have kept them 
 from going again on such an errand. — Do you call 
 to them, Deerslayer, and tell them I want them, 
 and that it will be good for them both if they’ll 
 return and hearken to my words.” 
 
 “ Ah’s me ! — poor Hetty, you little know the 
 cravin’s for gold and revenge, if you believe they 
 are so easily turned aside from their longin’s ! — 
 But this is an uncommon business in more ways 
 than one, Judith ! I hear your father and Hurry 
 growling like bears, and yet no noise comes from 
 the mouth of the young chief. There’s an ind bf 
 secrecy, and yet his whoop, which ought to ring 
 in the mountains, accordin’ to rule in such sar- 
 cumstances, is silent ! ” 
 
 “Justice may have alighted on him, and his 
 death have saved the lives of the innocent.” 
 
 “ Not it — not it — the Sarpent is Dot the one 
 to suffer if that's to be the law. Sartainly there 
 has been no onset, and ’tis most likely that the 
 camp’s deserted, and the men are coming back 
 disapp’inted. That accounts for the growls of 
 Hurry and the silence of the Sarpent.” 
 
 Just at this instant a fall of a paddle was 
 heard in the canoe, for vexation made March 
 reckless. Deerslayer felt convinced that his con- 
 jecture was true. The sail being down, the ark 
 had not drifted far; and ere many minutes he 
 heard Chingachgook, in a low, quiet tone, direct- 
 ing Hutter how to steer in order to reach it. In 
 less time than it takes to tell the fact, the canoe 
 touched the scow, and the adventurers entered 
 the latter. Neither Hutter nor Hurry spoke of 
 what had occurred. But the Delaware, in pass- 
 ing his friend, merely uttered the words “ Fire’s 
 out,” which, if not literally true, sufficiently ex- 
 plained the truth to his listener. 
 
 It was now a question as to the course to be 
 steered. A short, surly conference was held, 
 when Hutter decided that the wisest way would 
 be to keep in motion as the means most likely to 
 defeat any attempt at a surprise — announcing his 
 own and March’s intention to requite themselves 
 for the loss of sleep during their captivity, by ly- 
 ing down. As the air still baffled and continued 
 light, it was finally determined to sail before it, 
 let it come in what direction it might, so long as 
 it did not blow the ark upon the strand. This 
 point settled, the released prisoners helped to 
 hoist the sail, and then they threw themselves on 
 two of the pallets, leaving Deerslayer and bia 
 
118 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 friend to look after the movements of the craft. 
 As neither of the latter was disposed to sleep, on 
 account of the appointment with Hist, this ar- 
 rangement was acceptable to all parties. That 
 Judith and Hetty remained up also, in no manner 
 unpaired the agreeable features of this change. 
 
 For some time the scow rather drifted than 
 sailed along the western shore, following a light 
 southerly current of the air. The progress was 
 slow — not exceeding a couple of miles in the hour 
 — but the two men perceived that it was not only 
 carrying them toward the point they desired to 
 reach, but at a rate that was quite as fast as the 
 hour yet rendered necessary. But little was said 
 the while even by the girls ; and that little had 
 more reference to the rescue of Hist than to any 
 other subject. The Indian was calm to the eye, 
 but as minute after minute passed his feelings 
 became more and more excited, until they reached 
 a state that might have satisfied the demands of 
 even the most exacting mistress. Deerslayer 
 kept the craft as much in the bays as was pru- 
 dent, for the double purpose of sailing within the 
 shadows of the woods, and of detecting any signs 
 of an encampment they might pass on the shore. 
 In this manner they doubled one low point, and 
 were already in the bay that was terminated 
 north by the goal at which they aimed. The lat- 
 ter was still a quarter of a mile distant, when 
 Chingachgook came silently to the side of his 
 friend and pointed to a place directly ahead. A 
 small fire was glimmering just within the verge 
 of the bushes that lined the shore on the south- 
 ern side of the point — leaving no doubt that the 
 Indians had suddenly removed their camp to the 
 very place, or at least the very projection of land, 
 where Hist had given them the rendezvous. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 “ I hear thee babbling to the vale 
 Of sunshine and of flowers, 
 
 But unto me thou bring'st a tale 
 Of visionary hours.” 
 
 WOKDSWOETH. 
 
 The discovery mentioned at the close of the 
 preceding chapter was of great moment in the 
 eyes of Deerslayer and his friend. In the first 
 place, there was the danger, almost the certainty, 
 that Hutter and Hurry would make a fresh at- 
 tempt on this camp should they awake and ascer- 
 tain its position. Then there was the increased 
 risk of landing to bring off Hist; and there 
 were the general uncertainty and additional haz- 
 
 ards that must follow from the circumstance that 
 their enemies had begun to change their posi- 
 tions. As the Delaware was aware that the hour 
 was near when he ought to repair to the rendez- 
 vous, he no longer thought of trophies tom from 
 his foes ; and one of the first things arranged be- , 
 tween him and his associate was to permit the 
 two others to sleep on, lest they should disturb 
 the execution of their plans, by substituting some 
 of their own. The ark moved slowly, and it 
 would have taken fully a quarter of an hour to 
 reach the point, at the rate at which they were 
 going, thus affording time for a little forethought. 
 The Indians, in the wish to conceal their fire from 
 those who were thought to be Btill in the castle, 
 had placed it so near the southern side of the 
 point as to render it extremely difficult to shut 
 it in by the bushes, though Deerslayer varied the 
 direction of the scow, both to the right and to the 
 left, in the hope of being able to effect that ob- 
 ject. 
 
 “ There’s one advantage, Judith, in finding 
 that fire so near the water,” he said, while executing 
 these little manoeuvres ; “ since it shows the Min- 
 goes believe we are in the hut, and our coming 
 on ’em from this quarter will be an onlooked-for 
 event. But ’tis lucky Harry March and your fa- 
 ther are asleep, else we should have ’em prowling 
 after scalps ag’in. Ha! there — the bushes are 
 beginning to shut in the fire — and now it can’t be 
 seen at all ! ” 
 
 Deerslayer waited a little to make certain that 
 he had at last gained the desired position, when 
 he gave the signal agreed on, and Chingachgook 
 let go the grapnel and lowered the sail. 
 
 The situation in which the ark now lay had 
 its advantages and its disadvantages. The fire 
 had been hid by sheering toward the shore, and 
 the latter was nearer, perhaps, than was desir- 
 able. Still the water was known to be very deep 
 farther off in the lake, and anchoring in deep wa- 
 ter, under the circumstances in which the party 
 was placed, was to be avoided, if possible. It 
 was also believed no raft could be within miles ; 
 and, though the trees in the darkness appeared 
 almost to overhang the scow, it would not be 
 easy to get off to her without using a boat. The 
 intense darkness that prevailed so close in with 
 the forest, too, served as an effectual screen ; and 
 so long as care was had not to make a noise, 
 there was little or no danger of being detected. 
 All these things Deerslayer pointed out to Judith, 
 instructing her as to the course she was to follow 
 in the event of an alarm ; for it was thought to 
 the last degree inexpedient to arouse the sleepers, 
 unless it might be in the greatest emergcncv. 
 
AN ATTEMPT TO RESCUE TIIE DELAWARE MAID. 
 
 119 
 
 “ And now, Judith, as we understand one an- 
 other, it is time the Sarpent and I had taken to 
 the canoe.” the hunter concluded. “ The star 
 has not risen yet, it’s true, but it soon must; 
 though none of us are likely to be any the wiser 
 for it, to-night, on account of the clouds. Hows- 
 ever, Hist has a ready mind, and she’s one of 
 them that doesn’t always need to have a thing afore 
 her to see it. I’ll warrant you she’ll not be either 
 two minutes or two feet out of the way, unless 
 them jealous vagabonds, the Mingoes, have taken 
 the alarm and put her as a stool-pigeon to catch 
 us ; or have hid her away, in order to prepare 
 her mind for a Huron instead of a Mohican hus- 
 band.” 
 
 “ Deerslayer,” interrupted the girl, earnestly, 
 “ this is a most dangerous service ; why do you 
 go on it at all ? ” 
 
 “ Anan ! — Why, you know, gal, we go to bring 
 off Hist, the Sarpent’s betrothed — the maid he 
 means to marry, as soon as we get back to the 
 tribe.” 
 
 “ That is all right for the Indian — but you do 
 not mean to marry Hist — you are not betrothed, 
 and why should two risk their lives and liberties, 
 to do that which one can just as well perform? ” 
 
 “ Ah ! — now I understand you, Judith — yes, 
 now I begin to take the idee. You think as Hist 
 is the Sarpent’s betrothed, as they call it, and not 
 mine, it’s altogether his affair ; and, as one man 
 can paddle a canoe, he ought to be left to go af- 
 ter his gal alone! But you forget this is our 
 ar’n’d here, on the lake, and it would not tell well 
 to forget an ar’n’d just at the pinch. Then, if 
 love does count for so much with some people, 
 particularly with young women, fri’ndship counts 
 for something, too, with other some. I dares to 
 say, the Delaware can paddle a canoe by himself, 
 and can bring off Hist by himself, and perhaps he 
 would like that quite as well as to have me with 
 him ; but he couldn’t sarcumvent sarcumventions, 
 or stir up an ambushment, or fight with the sav- 
 ages, and get his sweetheart at the same time, as 
 well by himself as if he had a fri’nd with him, to 
 depend on, even if that fri’nd is no better than 
 myself. No— no — Judith, you wouldn’t desart 
 one that counted on you , at such a moment, and 
 you can’t, in reason, expect me to do it.” 
 
 “ I fear — I believe you are right, Deerslayer ; 
 yet I wish you were not to go ! Promise me one 
 thing, at least, and that is, not to trust yourself 
 among the savages, or to do any thing more than 
 to save the girl. That will be enough for once, 
 and with that you ought to be satisfied.” 
 
 “ Lord bless you, gal ; one would think it was 
 Hetty that’s talking, and not the quick-witted and 
 
 wonderful Judith Hutter! But fright makes the 
 wise silly, and the strong weak. Yes, I’ve seen 
 proofs of that, time and ag’in ! Well, it’s kind 
 and soft-hearted in you, Judith, to feel this con 
 sarn for a fellow-creatur’, and I shall always say 
 that you are kind and of true feelin’s, let them 
 that invy your good looks tell as many idle stories 
 of you as they may.” 
 
 “ Deerslayer ! ” hastily said the girl, interrupt- 
 ing him, though nearly choked by her emotions ; 
 “ do you believe all you hear about a poor, moth- 
 erless girl ? Is the foul tongue of Hurry Hkrry to 
 blast my life ? ” 
 
 “ Not it, Judith — not it. I’ve told Hurry it 
 wasn’t manful to backbite them he couldn’t win 
 by fair means ; and that even an Indian is al- 
 ways tender, touching a young woman’s gdtd 
 name.” 
 
 “ If I had a brother, he wouldn’t dare to do 
 it,” exclaimed Judith, her eyes flashing fire. 
 “ But, finding me without any protector but an 
 old man, whose ears are getting to be as dull as 
 his feelings, he has his way as he pleases.” 
 
 “ Not exactly that, Judith ; no, not exactly 
 that, neither! No man, brother or stranger, 
 would stand by and see as fair a gal as yourself 
 hunted down, without saying a word in her be- 
 half. Hurry’s in ’arnest in wanting to make you 
 his wife, and the little he does let out ag’in you, 
 comes more from jealousy, like, than from any 
 thing else. Smile on him when he awakes, and 
 squeeze his hand only about half as hard as you 
 squeezed mine a bit ago, and, my life on it, the 
 poor fellow will forget every thing but your come- 
 liness. Hot words don’t always come from the 
 heart, but oftener from the stomach, than any- 
 where else. Try him, Judith, when he wakes, 
 and see the vartue of a smile.” 
 
 Deerslayer laughed, in his own manner, as 
 he concluded, and then he intimated to the pa- 
 tient-looking but really impatient Chingachgook 
 his readiness to proceed. As the young man en- 
 tered the canoe, the girl stood immovable as 
 stone, lost in the musings that the language and 
 manner of the other were likely to produce. The 
 simplicity of the hunter had completely put her 
 at fault ; for, in her narrow sphere, Judith was 
 an expert manager of the other sex ; though, in 
 the present instance, she was far more actuated 
 by impulses, in all she had said and done, than 
 by calculation. We shall not deny that some of 
 Judith’s reflections were bitter, though the se- 
 quel of the tale must be referred to, in order to 
 explain how merited or how keen were her suf- 
 ferings. 
 
 Chingachook and his pale-face friend set forth 
 
120 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 on their hazardous and delicate enterprise with a 
 coolness and method that would have done credit 
 to men who were on their twentieth instead of 
 being on their first war-path. As suited his rela- 
 tion to the pretty fugitive, in whose service they 
 were engaged, the Indian took his place in the 
 head of the canoe, while Deerslayer guided its 
 movements in the stera. By this arrangement, the 
 former would be first to land, and of course the 
 first to meet his mistress. The latter had taken 
 his post without comment, but in secret influenced 
 by the reflection that one who had so much at 
 stake as the Indian, might not possibly guide the 
 canoe with the same steadiness and intelligence 
 as another who had more command of his feel- 
 ings. From the instant they left the side of the 
 ark, the movements of the two adventurers were 
 like the manoeuvres of highly-drilled soldiers, 
 who for the first time were called on to meet the 
 enemy in the field. As yet, Chingachgook had 
 never fired a shot in anger, and the debut of his 
 companion in warfare is known to the reader. 
 It is true, the Indian had been hanging about his 
 enemy’s camp for a few hours, on his first arrival, 
 and he had even once entered it, as related in the 
 last chapter, but no consequences had followed 
 either experiment. Now, it was certain that an 
 important result was to be effected, or a mortify- 
 ing failure was to ensue. The rescue, or the con- 
 tinued captivity of Hist, depended on the enter- 
 prise. In a word, it was vii*tually the maiden 
 expedition of these two ambitious young forest 
 soldiers ; and while one of them set forth, im- 
 pelled by sentiments that usually carry men so 
 far, both had all their feelings of pride and man- 
 hood enlisted in their success. 
 
 Instead of steering in a direct line to the 
 point, then distant from the ark less than a quar- 
 ter of a mile, Deerslayer laid the head of his 
 canoe diagonally toward the centre of the lake, 
 with a view to obtain a position from which he 
 might approach the shore, having his enemies in 
 his front only. The spot where Hetty had land- 
 ed, and where Hist had promised to meet them, 
 moreover, was on the upper side of the projec- 
 tion, rather than on the lower ; and to reach it, 
 would have required the adventurers to double 
 nearly the whole point, close in with the shore, 
 had not this preliminary step been taken. So 
 well was the necessity for this measure under- 
 stood, that Chingachgook quietly paddled on, 
 although it was adopted without consulting him, 
 and apparently was taking him in a direction 
 nearly opposite to that one might think he most 
 wished to go. A few minutes sufficed, however, 
 to carry the canoe the necessary distance, when 
 
 both the young men ceased paddling, as it were, 
 by instinctive consent, and the boat became sta- 
 tionary. 
 
 The darkness increased rather than dimin- 
 ished, but it was still possible, from the place 
 where the adventurers lay, to distinguish the out- 
 lines of the mountains. In vain did the Delaware 
 turn his head eastward, to catch a glimpse of the 
 promised star ; for, notwithstanding the clouds 
 broke a little near the horizon in that quarter of 
 the heavens, the curtain continued so far drawn 
 as effectually to conceal all behind it. In front, 
 as was known by the formation of land above 
 and behind it, lay the point, at a distance of 
 about a thousand feet. No signs of the castle, 
 could be seen, nor could any movement in that 
 quarter of the lake reach the ear. The latter 
 circumstance might have been equally owing to 
 the distance, which was several miles, or to the 
 fact that nothing was in motion. As for the ark, 
 though scarcely farther from the canoe than the 
 point, it lay so completely buried in the shadows 
 of the shore, that it would not have been visible 
 even had there been many degrees more of light 
 than actually existed. 
 
 The adventurers now held a conference in 
 low voices, consulting together as to the prob- 
 able time. Deerslayer thought it wanted yet 
 some minutes to the rising of the star, while the 
 impatience of the chief caused him to fancy the 
 night farther advanced, and to believe that his 
 betrothed was already waiting his appearance on 
 the shore. As might have been expected, the 
 opinion of the latter prevailed, and his friend 
 disposed himself to steer for the place of ren- 
 dezvous. The utmost skill and precaution now 
 became necessary in the management of the ca- 
 noe. The paddles were lifted and returned to 
 the water in a noiseless manner ; and, when with- 
 in a hundred yards of the beach, Chingachgook 
 took in his altogether, laying his hand on his rifle 
 in its stead. As they got still more within the 
 belt of darkness that girded the woods, it was 
 seen that they were steering too far north, and 
 the course was altered accordingly. The canoe 
 now seemed to move by instinct, so cautious and 
 deliberate were all its motions. Still it con- 
 tinued to advance, until its bows grated on the 
 gravel of the beach, at the precise spot where 
 Hetty had landed, and whence her voice had is- 
 sued, the previous night, as the ark was passing 
 There was, as usual, a narrow strand, but bushes 
 fringed the woods, and in most places overhung 
 the water. 
 
 Chingachgook stepped upon the beach, and 
 cautiously examined it, for some distance, on 
 
RECONNOITRING THE INDIAN CAM! . 
 
 121 
 
 each side of the canoe. In order to do this, he 
 was often obliged to wade to his knees in the 
 lake. No Hist rewarded his search. When he 
 returned, he found his friend’ also on the shore. 
 They next conferred in whispers, the Indian ap- 
 prehending that they must have mistaken the 
 place of rendezvous. Deerslayer thought it was 
 probable they had mistaken the hour. While he 
 was yet speaking, he grasped the am of the 
 Delaware, caused him to turn his head in the 
 direction of the lake, and pointed toward the 
 summits of the eastern mountains. The clouds 
 had broken a little, apparently behind rather 
 than above the hills, and the selected star was 
 glittering among the branches of a pine. This 
 was every way a flattering omen, and the young 
 men leaned on their rifles, listening intently for 
 the sound of approaching footsteps. Voices they 
 often heard, and mingled with them were the sup- 
 pressed cries of children, and the low but sweet 
 laugh of Indian women. As the native Ameri- 
 cans are habitually cautious, and seldom break 
 out in loud conversation, the adventurers knew 
 by these facts that they must be very near the 
 encampment. It was easy to perceive that there 
 was a fire within the woods, by the manner in 
 which some of the upper branches of the trees 
 were illuminated, but it was not possible, where 
 they stood, to ascertain exactly how near it was 
 to themselves. Once or twice it seemed as if 
 stragglers from around the fire were approaching 
 the place of rendezvous ; but these sounds were 
 either altogether illusion, or those who had drawn 
 near returned again without coming to the shore. 
 A quarter of an hour was passed in this state of 
 intense expectation and anxiety, when Deerslayer 
 proposed that they should circle the point in the 
 canoe ; and by getting a position close in, where 
 the camp could be seen, reconnoitre the Indians, 
 and thus enable themselves to form some plau- 
 sible conjectures for the non-appearance of Hist. 
 The Delaware, however, resolutely refused to quit 
 the spot, plausibly enough offering as a reason, 
 the disappointment of the girl, should she arrive 
 in his absence. Deerslayer felt for his friend’s 
 concern, and offered to make the circuit of the 
 point by himself, leaving the latter concealed in 
 the bushes to await the occurrence of any fortu- 
 nate event that might favor his views. With this 
 understanding, then, the parties separated. 
 
 As soon as Deerslayer was at his post again, 
 in the stern of the canoe, he left the shore with 
 the same precautions, and in the same noiseless 
 manner as he had approached it. On this occa- 
 sion he did not go far from the land, the bushes 
 affording sufficient cover, by keeping as close in 
 
 as possible. Indeed, it would not have been easy 
 to devise any means more favorable to reconnoi- 
 tring round an Indian camp, than those afforded 
 by the actual state of things. The formation of 
 the point permitted the place to be circled on 
 three of its sides, and the progress of the boat 
 was so noiseless as to remove any apprehension 
 from an alarm through sound. The most prac- 
 tised and guarded foot might stir a bunch of 
 leaves or snap a dried stick in the dark, but a 
 bark canoe could be made to float over the sur- 
 face of smooth water, almost with the instinctive 
 readiness, and certainly with the noiseless move- 
 ments, of an aquatic bird. 
 
 Deerslayer had got nearly in a line between 
 the camp and the ark, before he caught a glimpse 
 of the fire. This came upon him suddenly, and 
 a little unexpectedly, at first causing an alarm, 
 lest he had incautiously ventured within the cir- 
 cle of light it cast. But, perceiving at a second 
 glance that he was certainly safe from detection, 
 so long as the Indians kept near the centre of the 
 illumination, he brought the canoe to a state of 
 rest, in the most favorable position he could find, 
 and commenced his observations. 
 
 We have written much, but in vain, concern- 
 ing this extraordinary being, if the reader re- 
 quires now to be told that, untutored as he was 
 in the learning of the world, and simple as he 
 ever showed himself to be in all matters touching 
 the subtleties of conventional taste, he was a man 
 of strong, native, poetical feeling. He loved the 
 woods for their freshness, their sublime solitudes, 
 their vastness, and the impress that they every- 
 where bore of the divine hand of their Crea- 
 tor. He rarely moved through them, without 
 pausing to dwell on some peculiar beauty that 
 gave him pleasure, though seldom attempting to 
 investigate the causes ; and never did a day pass 
 without his communing in spirit, and this, too, 
 without the aid of forms or language, with the in- 
 finite source of all he saw, felt, and beheld. Thus 
 constituted in a moral sense, and of a steadiness 
 that no danger could appall or any crisis disturb, 
 it is not surprising that the hunter felt a pleasure 
 at looking on the scene he now beheld, that mo- 
 mentarily caused him to forget the object of his vis- 
 it. This will more fully appear when we describe it, 
 
 The canoe lay in front of a natural vista, not 
 only through the bushes that lined the shore, but 
 of the trees also, that afforded a clear view of the 
 camp. It was by means of this same opening 
 that the light had been first seen from the ark. 
 In consequence of their recent change of ground, 
 the Indians had not yet retired to their huts, 
 but had been delayed by their preparations, which 
 
122 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 Included lodging as well as food. A large fire 
 had been made, as much to answer the purpose 
 of torches, as for the use of their simple cookery > 
 and at this precise moment it was blazing high 
 and bright, having recently received a large supply 
 of dried brush. The effect was to illuminate the 
 arches of the forest, and to render the whole area 
 occupied by the camp as light as if hundreds of 
 tapers were burning. Most of the toil had ceased, 
 and even the hungriest child had satisfied its ap- 
 petite. In a word, the time was that moment of 
 relaxation and general indolence which is apt to 
 succeed a hearty meal, and when the labors of 
 the day have ended. The hunters and the fisher- 
 men had been equally successful ; and food, that 
 one great requisite of savage life, being abundant, 
 every other care appeared to have subsided in 
 the sense of enjoyment dependent on this all-im- 
 portant fact. 
 
 Deerslayer saw at a glance that many of the 
 warriors were absent. His acquaintance, Riven- 
 oak, however, was present, being seated in the 
 foreground of a picture that Salvator Rosa would 
 have delighted to draw, his swarthy features illu- 
 minated as much by pleasure as by the torch-like 
 flame, while he showed another of the tribe one 
 of the elephants that had caused so much sensa- 
 tion among his people. A boy was looking over 
 his shoulder, in dull curiosity, completing the 
 group. More in the background, eight or ten 
 warriors lay half recumbent on the ground, or sat 
 with their backs inclining against trees, so many 
 types of indolent repose. Their arms were near 
 them, sometimes leaning against the same trees as 
 themselves, or were lying across their bodies, in 
 careless preparation. But the group that most. at- 
 tracted the attention of Deerslayer was that com- 
 posed of the women and children. All the fe- 
 males appeared to be collected together, and, 
 almost as a matter of course, their young were 
 near them. The former laughed and chatted in 
 their rebuked and quiet manner, though one who 
 knew the habits of the people might have de- 
 tected that every thing was not going on in its 
 usual train. Most of the young women seemed 
 to be light-hearted enough ; but one old hag was 
 seated apart, with a watchful, soured aspect, which 
 the hunter at once knew betokened that some 
 duty of an unpleasant character had been assigned 
 her by the chiefs. What that duty was he had 
 no means of knowing ; but he felt satisfied it must 
 be, in some measure, connected with her own sex, 
 the aged among the women generally being chosen 
 .or such offices, and no other. 
 
 As a matter of course, Deerslayer looked 
 eagerly and anxiously for the form of Hist. She 
 
 was nowhere visible, though the light penetrated 
 to considerable distances in all directions around 
 the fire. Once or twice he started, as if he 
 thought he recognized her laugh; but his ears 
 were deceived by the soft melody that is so com- 
 mon to the Indian female voice. At length the 
 old woman spoke loud and angry, and then he 
 caught a glimpse of one or two dark figures, in the 
 background of trees, which turned as if obedi- 
 ent to the rebuke, and walked more within the 
 circle of the light. A young warrior’s form first 
 came fairly into view ; then followed two youthful 
 females, one of whom proved to be the Delaware 
 girl. Deerslayer now comprehended it all. Hist 
 was watched, possibly by her young companion, 
 certainly by the old woman. The youth was 
 probably some suitor of either her or her com- 
 panion; but even his discretion was distrusted 
 under the influence of his admiration. The known 
 vicinity of those who might be supposed to be her 
 friends, and the arrival of a strange red man on 
 the lake, had induced more than the usual care, 
 and the girl had not been able to slip away from 
 those who watched her, in order to keep her ap- 
 pointment. Deerslayer t-raced her uneasiness, by 
 her attempting, once or twice, to look up through 
 the branches of the trees, as if endeavoring to 
 get glimpses of the star she had herself named as 
 the sign for meeting. All was vain, however, and 
 after strolling about the camp a little longer, in 
 affected indifference, the two girls quitted their 
 male escort, and took seats among their own sex. 
 As soon as this was done, the old sentinel changed 
 her place to one more agreeable to herself, a 
 certain proof that she had hitherto been exclu- 
 sively on watch. 
 
 Deerslayer now felt greatly at a loss how to 
 proceed. He well knew that Chingachgook could 
 never be persuaded to return to the ark, without 
 making some desperate effort for the recovery of 
 his mistress, and his own generous feelings well 
 disposed him to aid in such an undertaking. He 
 thought he saw the signs of an intention among 
 the females to retire for the night ; and should he 
 remain, and the fire continued to give out its 
 light, he might discover the particular hut, or 
 arbor, under which Hist reposed ; a circumstance 
 that would be of infinite use in their future pro- 
 ceedings. Should he remain, however, much lon- 
 ger where he was, there was great danger that 
 the impatience of his friend would drive him into 
 some act of imprudence. At each instant, indeed, 
 he expected to see the swarthy form of the Dela- 
 ware appearing in the background, like the tiger 
 prowling around the fold. Taking all things into 
 consideration, therefore, he came to the codcIu* 
 
CAUTIOUS ADVANCE OF THE TWO FRIENDS. 
 
 123 
 
 Bion Jt would be better to rejoin his friend, and 
 endeavor to temper his impetuosity by some of his 
 own coolness and discretion. It required but a 
 minute or two to put this plan in execution, the 
 canoe returning to the strand some ten or fifteen 
 minutes after it had left it. 
 
 Contrary to his expectations, perhaps, Deer- 
 slayer found the Indian at his post, from which 
 he had not stirred, fearful that his betrothed 
 might arrive during his absence. A conference 
 followed, in which Chingachgook was made ac- 
 quainted with the state of things in the camp. 
 When Hist named the point as the place of meet- 
 ing, it was with the expectation of making her 
 escape from the old position, and of repairing to 
 a spot that she expected to find without any oc- 
 cupants ; but the sudden change of localities had 
 disconcerted all her plans. A much greater degree 
 of vigilance than had been previously required, 
 was now necessary ; and the circumstance that an 
 aged woman was on watch, also denoted some 
 special grounds of alarm. All these considera- 
 tions, and many more that will readily suggest 
 themselves to the reader, were briefly discussed, 
 before the young men come to any decision. The 
 occasion, however, being one that required acts 
 instead of words, the course to be pursued was 
 soon chosen. 
 
 Disposing of the canoe in such a manner that 
 Hist must see it, should she come to the place of 
 meeting previously to their return, the young men 
 looked to their arms, and prepared to enter the 
 wood. The whole projection into the lake con- 
 tained about two acres of land ; and the part that 
 formed the point, and on which the camp was 
 placed, did not compose a surface of more than 
 half that size. It was principally covered with 
 oaks, which, as is usual in the American forests, 
 grew to a great height without throwing out a 
 branch, and then arched in a dense and rich foli- 
 age. Beneath, except the fringe of thick bushes 
 along the shore, there was very little underbrush ; 
 though, in consequence of their shape, the trees 
 were closer together than is common in regions 
 where the axe has been freely used, resembling 
 tall, straight, rustic culumns, upholding the usual 
 canopy of leaves. The surface of the land was 
 tolerably even, but it had a small rise near its 
 centre, which divided it into a northern and south- 
 ern half. On the latter the Hurons had built 
 their fire, profiting by the formation to conceal it 
 from their enemies, who, it will be remembered, 
 were supposed to be in the castle, which bore 
 northerly. A brook also came brawling down 
 the sides of the adjacent hills, and found its way 
 Into the lake on the southern side of the point. 
 
 It had cut for itself a deep passage through somo 
 of the higher portions of the ground, and, in later 
 days, when the spot has become subjected to the 
 uses of civilization, by it3 windings and shaded 
 banks, it has become no mean accessory in con- 
 tributing to the beauty of the place. This brook 
 lay west of the encampment, and its waters found 
 their way into the great reservoir of that region 
 on the same side, and quite near to the spot chosen 
 for the fire. All these peculiarities, so far as cir- 
 cumstances allowed, had been noted by Deerslay- 
 er, and explained to his friend. 
 
 The reader will understand that the little rise 
 in the ground that lay behind the Indian encamp- 
 ment, greatly favored the secret advance of the 
 two adventurers. It prevented the light of the 
 fire diffusing itself on the ground directly in the 
 rear, although the land fell away toward the wa- 
 ter, so as to leave what might be termed the left, 
 or eastern flank of the position, unprotected by 
 this covering. We have said “unprotected,” 
 though that is not properly the word, since the 
 knoll behind the huts and the fire offered a cover 
 for those who were now stealthily approaching, 
 rather than any protection to the Indians. Deer- 
 slayer did not break through the fringe of bushes 
 immediately abreast of the canoe, which might 
 have brought him too suddenly within the influ. 
 ence of the light, since the hillock did not ex- 
 tend to the water ; but he followed the beach north- 
 erly until he had got nearly on the opposite side 
 of the tongue of land, which brought him under 
 the shelter of the low acclivity, and, consequently, 
 more in shadow. 
 
 As soon as the friends emerged from the bush- 
 es, they stopped to reconnoitre. The fire was still 
 blazing behind the little ridge, casting its light 
 upward into the tops of the trees, producing an 
 effect that was more pleasing than advantageous. 
 Still the glare had its uses ; for, while the back- 
 ground was in obscurity, the foreground -was in 
 strong light, exposing the savages and conceal- 
 ing their foes. Profiting by the latter circum- 
 stance, the young men advanced cautiously tow- 
 ard the ridge, Deerslayer in front, for he insisted 
 on this arrangement, lest the Delaware should be 
 led by his feelings into some indiscretion. It re- 
 quired but a moment to reach the foot of the lit- 
 tle ascent, and then commenced the most critical 
 part of the enterprise. Moving with exceeding 
 caution, and trailing his rifle, both to keep its 
 barrel out of view, and in readiness for service, 
 the hunter put foot before foot, until he had got 
 sufficiently high to overlook the summit, his own 
 head being alone brought into the light. Chin- 
 gachgook was at his side, and both paused tc 
 
124 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 take another close examination of the camp. In 
 order, however, to protect themselves against any 
 straggler in the rear, they placed their bodies 
 against the trunk of an oak, standing on the side 
 next the fire. 
 
 The view that Deerslayer now obtained of the 
 camp, was exactly the reverse of that he had per- 
 ceived from the water. The dim figures which he 
 had formerly discovered must have been on the 
 summit of the ridge, a few feet in advance of the 
 spot where he was now posted. The fire was still 
 blazing brightly, and around it were seated on 
 logs thirteen warriors, which accounted for all 
 whom he had seen from the canoe. They were 
 conversing with much earnestness among them- 
 selves, the image of the elephant passing from 
 hand to hand. The first burst of savage wonder 
 had abated, and the question now under discus- 
 sion was the probable existence, the history and 
 habits of so extraordinary an animal. We have 
 not leisure to record the opinions of these rude 
 men on a subject so consonant to their lives and 
 experience ; but little is hazarded in saying that 
 they were quite as plausible, and far more ingen- 
 ious, than half the conjectures that precede the 
 demonstrations of science. Howev^ 1 much they 
 may have been at fault, as to their conclusions 
 and inferences, it is certain that they discussed 
 the questions with a zealous and most undivided 
 attention. For the time being, all else was forgot- 
 ten, and our adventurers could not have ap- 
 proached at a more fortunate instant. 
 
 The females were collected near each other, 
 much as Deerslayer had last seen them, nearly in 
 a line between the place where he now stood and 
 the fire. The distance from the oak against 
 which the young men leaned and the warriors, 
 was about thirty yards; the women may have 
 been half that number of yards nigher. The lat- 
 ter, indeed, were so near as to make the utmost 
 circumspection, as to motion and noise, indispen- 
 sable. Although they conversed in their low, soft 
 voices, it was possible, in the profound stillness 
 of the woods, even to catch passages of the dis- 
 course ; and the light-hearted laugh that escaped 
 the girls might occasionally have reached the 
 canoe. Deerslayer felt the tremor that passed 
 through the frame of his friend, when the latter 
 first caught the sweet sounds that issued from the 
 plump, pretty lips of Hist. He even laid a hand 
 on the shoulder of the Indian, as a sort of admo- 
 nition to command himself. As the conversation 
 grew more earnest, each leaned forward to listen. 
 
 “ The Hurons have more curious beasts than 
 that,” said one of the girls, contemptuously ; for, 
 like the men, they conversed of the elephant and 
 
 his qualities. “The Delawares will think this 
 creature wonderful, but to-morrow no Huron 
 tongue will talk of it. Our young men will 
 find him if the animal dares to come near our 
 wigwams ! ” 
 
 This was in fact addressed to Wah-ta!-Wah, 
 though she who spoke uttered her words with an 
 assumed diffidence and humility that prevented 
 her looking at the other. 
 
 “ The Delawares are so far from letting such 
 creatures come into their country,” returned Hist, 
 “that no one has* even seen their images there! 
 Their young men would frighten away the images 
 as well as the beasts .” 
 
 “ The Delaware young men ! — the nation is 
 women — even the deer walk when they hear their 
 hunters coming ! Who has ever heard the name 
 of a young Delaware warrior ? ” 
 
 This was said in good-humor, and with a 
 laugh ; but it was also said bitingly. That Hist 
 so felt it, was apparent by the spirit betrayed in 
 her answer. 
 
 “ Who has ever heard the name of a young 
 Delaware ! ” she repeated earnestly. “ Tamenund, 
 himself, though now as old as the pines on the 
 hill, or as the eagle in the air, was once young ; 
 his name was heard from the great salt lake to 
 the sweet waters of the west. What is the family 
 of Uncas ? Where is another as great, though 
 the pale-faces have ploughed up its graves, and 
 trodden on its bones ? Do the eagles fly as high, 
 is the deer as swift, or the panther as brave ? Is 
 there no young warrior of that race ? Let the 
 Huron maidens open their eyes wider, and they 
 may see one called Chingachgook, who is as 
 stately as a young ash, and as tough as the 
 hickory.” 
 
 As the girl used her figurative language, and 
 told her companions to “ open their eyes and they 
 would see ” the Delaware, Deerslayer thrust his 
 fingers into the sides of his friend, and indulged 
 in a fit of his hearty, benevolent laughter. The 
 other smiled ; but the language of the speaker 
 was too flattering, and the tones of lief voice too 
 sweet, for him to be led away by any accidental 
 coincidence, however ludicrous. The speech of 
 Hist produced a retort, and the dispute, though 
 conducted in good-humor, and without any of 
 the coarse violence of tone and gesture that often 
 impairs the charms of the sex in what is called 
 civilized life, grew warm and slightly clamorous. 
 In the midst of this scene the Delaware caused 
 his friend to stoop, so as completely to conceal 
 himself, and then he made a noise so closely re* 
 sembling the little chirrup of the smallest species 
 of the American squirrel, that Deerslayer him- 
 
ESCAPE OF THE DELAWARE AND HIS BETROTHED. 
 
 125 
 
 •elf, though he had heard the imitation a hun- 
 dred times, actually thought it came from one of 
 the little animals skipping about over his head. 
 The sound is so familiar in the woods that none 
 of the Hurons paid it the least attention. Hist, 
 however, instantly ceased talking, and sat motion- 
 less. Still, she had sufficient self-command to 
 abstain from turning her head. She had heard 
 the signal by which her lover so often called her 
 from the wigwam to the stolen interview, attd it 
 came over her senses and her heart, as the sere- 
 nade affects the maiden in the land of song. 
 
 From that moment Chingachgook felt certain 
 that his presence was known. This was effecting 
 much, and he could now hope for a bolder line 
 of conduct on the part of his mistress than she 
 might dare to adopt under an uncertainty of his 
 situation. It left no doubt of her endeavoring 
 to aid him in his effort to release her. Deerslayer 
 arose as soon as the signal was given, and though 
 he had never held that sweet communion which 
 _s known only to lovers, he was not slow to de- 
 tect the great change that had come over the 
 manner of the girl. She still affected to dispute, 
 though it was no longer with spirit and ingenuity, 
 but what she said was uttered more as a lure to 
 draw her antagonists on to an easy conquest, than 
 with any hopes of succeeding herself. Once or 
 twice, it is true, her native readiness suggested 
 a retort or an argument that raised a laugh, and 
 gave her a momentary advantage ; but these lit- 
 tle sallies, the offspring of mother wit, served the 
 better to conceal her real feelings, and to give to 
 the triumph of the party a more natural air than 
 it might have possessed without them. At length 
 the disputants became wearied, and they rose in 
 a body as if about to separate. It was now that 
 Hist, for the first time, ventured to turn her face 
 in the direction whence the signal had come. In 
 doing this, her movements were natural but 
 guarded, and she stretched her arm and yawned, 
 as if overcome with a desire to sleep. The chir- 
 rup was again heard, and the girl felt satisfied as 
 to the position of her lover, though the strong 
 light in which she herself was placed, and the 
 comparative darkness in which the adventurers 
 stood, prevented her from seeing their heads, the 
 only portions of their forms that appeared above 
 the ridge at all. The tree against which they 
 were posted had a dark shadow cast upon it by 
 the intervention of an enormous pine that grew 
 between it and the fire, a circumstance which 
 alone would have rendered objects within its 
 cloud invisible at any distance. This Deerslayer 
 well knew, and it was one of the reasons why he 
 aad selected this particular tree. 
 
 The moment was near when it became neces- 
 sary for Hist to act. She was to sleep in a small 
 hut, or bower, that had been built near the spot 
 where she stood, and her companion was the aged 
 hag already mentioned. Once within the hut, 
 with this sleepless old woman stretched across 
 the entrance, as was her nightly practice, the 
 hope of escape was nearly destroyed, and she 
 might, at any moment, be summoned to her bed. 
 Luckily, at this instant, one of the warriors called 
 to the old woman by name, and bade her bring 
 him water to drink. There was a delicious spring 
 on the northern side of the point, and the hag 
 took a gourd from a branch, and, summoning 
 Hist to her side, she moved toward the summit 
 of the ridge, intending to descend and cross the 
 point to the natural fountain. All this was seen 
 and understood by the adventurers, and they fell 
 back into the obscurity, concealing their persons 
 by trees, until the two females had passed them. 
 In walking, Hist was held tightly by the hand. 
 As she moved by the tree that hid Chingachgook 
 and his friend, the former felt for his tomahawk, 
 with the intention to bury it in the brain of the 
 woman. But the other saw the hazard of such 
 a measure, since a single scream might bring all 
 the warriors upon them, and he was averse to 
 the act on considerations of humanity. His hand, 
 therefore, prevented the blow. Still as the two 
 moved past, the chirrup was repeated, and the 
 Huron woman stopped and faced the tree whence 
 the sounds seemed to proceed, standing, at the 
 moment, within six feet of her enemies. She 
 expressed her surprise that a squirrel should be 
 in motion at so late an hour, and said it boded 
 evil. Hist answered that she had heard the 
 same squirrel three times within the last twenty 
 minutes, and that she supposed it was waiting to 
 obtain some of the crumbs left from the late sup- 
 per. This explanation appeared satisfactory, and 
 they moved toward the spring, the men following 
 stealthily and closely. The gourd was filled, and 
 the old woman was hurrying back, her hand still 
 grasping the wrist of the girl, when, she was sud- 
 denly seized so violently by the throat, as to 
 cause her to release her captive, and to prevent 
 her making any other sound than a sort of gur- 
 gling, suffocating noise. The Serpent passed his 
 arm round the waist of his mistress, and dashed 
 through the bushes with her, on the north side 
 of the point. Here he immediately turned along 
 the beach and ran toward the canoe. A more 
 direct course could have been taken, but it might 
 have led to a discovery of the place of embark 
 ing. 
 
 Deerslayer kept playing on the throat of the 
 
126 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 old woman, like the keys of an organ, occasion- 
 ally allowing her to breathe, and then compress- 
 ing his fingers again nearly to strangling. The 
 brief intervals for breath, however, were well 
 improved, and the hag succeeded in letting out 
 a screech or two that served to alarm the camp. 
 The tramp of the warriors, as they sprang from 
 the fire, was plainly audible ; and, at the next 
 moment, three or four of them appeared on the 
 top of the ridge, drawn against the background 
 of light, resembling the dim shadows of the 
 phantasmagoria. It was now quite time for the 
 hunter to retreat. Tripping up the heels of his 
 captive, and giving her throat a parting squeeze, 
 quite as much in resentment at her indomitable 
 efforts to sound the alarm, as from any policy, he 
 left her on her back, and moved toward the 
 bushes ; his rifle at a poise, and his head over 
 his shoulders, like a lion at bay. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 “ There, ye wise saints, behold your light, your star 1 
 Te would be dupes and victims, and ye are. 
 
 Is it enough ? or must I, while a thrill 
 Lives in your sapient bosoms, cheat you still ? ” 
 
 Moore. 
 
 The fire, the canoe, and the spring, near which 
 Deerslayer commenced his retreat, would have 
 stood in the angles of a triangle of tolerably equal 
 sides. The distance from the fire to the boat was 
 a little less than the distance from the fire to the 
 spring, while the distance from the spring to the 
 boat was about equal to that between the two 
 points first named. This, however, was in straight 
 lines — a means of escape to which the fugitives 
 could not resort. They were obliged to have re- 
 course to a detour in order to get the cover of the 
 bushes, and to follow the curvature of the beach. 
 CJnder these disadvantages, then, the hunter com- 
 menced his retreat — disadvantages that he felt to 
 be so much the greater, from his knowledge of 
 the habits of all Indians, who rarely fail in cases 
 of sudden alarm, more especially when in the 
 midst of cover, immediately to throw out flankers, 
 with a view to meet their foes at all points, and 
 if possible to turn their rear. That some such 
 course was now adopted, he believed from the 
 tramp of feet, which not only came up the ascent, 
 as related, but were also heard, under the faint 
 Impulse, diverging not only toward the hill in the 
 rear, but toward the extremity of the point, in a 
 direction opposite to that he was about to take 
 himself. Promptitude consequently became a 
 
 matter of the last importance, as the parties might 
 meet on the strand before the fugitive could reach 
 the canoe. 
 
 Notwithstanding the pressing nature of the 
 emergency, Deerslayer hesitated a single instant, 
 ere he plunged into the bushes that lined the 
 shore. His feelings had been awakened by the 
 whole scene, and a sternness of purpose had come 
 over him, to which he was ordinarily a stranger. 
 Four dark figures loomed on the ridge, drawn 
 against the brightness of the fire, and an enemy 
 might have been sacrificed at a glance. The In- 
 dians had paused to gaze into the gloom in search 
 of the screeching hag ; and, with many a man less 
 given to reflection than the hunter, the death of 
 one of them would have been certain. Luckily, 
 he was more prudent. Although the rifle dropped 
 a little toward the foremost of his pursuers, he 
 did not aim or fire, but disappeared in the cover. 
 To gain the beach, and to follow it round to the 
 place where Chingachgook was already in the 
 canoe with Hist, anxiously waiting his appearance, 
 occupied but a moment. Laying his rifle in the 
 bottom of the canoe, Deerslayer stooped to give 
 the latter a vigorous shove from the shore, when 
 a powerful Indian leaped through the bushes, 
 alighting like a panther on his back. Every thing 
 was now suspended by a hair ; a false step ruin- 
 ing all. With a generosity that would have ren- 
 dered a Roman illustrious throughout all time — 
 but which, in the career of one so simple and 
 humble, would have been forever lost to the 
 world, but for this unpretending legend, Deer- 
 slayer threw all his force into a desperate effort, 
 shoved the canoe off with a power that sent it a 
 hundred feet from the shore as it might be in an 
 instant, and fell forward into the lake, himself, 
 face downward ; his assailant necessarily follow- 
 ing him. 
 
 Although the water was deep within a few 
 yards of the beach, it was not more than breast- 
 high as close in as the spot where the two com- 
 batants fell. Still this was quite sufficient to de- 
 stroy one who had sunk under the great disad- 
 vantages in which Deerslayer was placed. His 
 hands were free, however, and the savage was 
 compelled to relinquish his hug to keep his own 
 face above the surface. For half a minute there 
 was a desperate struggle, like the floundering of 
 an alligator that has just seized some powerfu. 
 prey, and then both stood erect grasping each 
 other’s arms, in order to prevent the use of the 
 deadly knife in the darkness. What might have 
 been the issue of this severe personal struggle 
 cannot be known, for half a dozen savages came 
 leaping into the water to the aid of their frier.d. 
 
THE HUNTER AMONG THE HURONS. 
 
 127 
 
 and Deerslayer yielded himself a prisoner with a 
 dignity that was as remarkable as his self-de- 
 votion. 
 
 To quit the lake and lead their new captive to 
 the fire, occupied the Indians but another minute. 
 So much engaged were they all with the struggle 
 and its consequences that the canoe was unseen, 
 though it still lay so near the shore as to render 
 every syllable that was uttered perfectly intelli- 
 gible to the Delaware and his betrothed ; and the 
 whole party left the spot, some continuing the 
 pursuit after Hist, along the beach, though most 
 proceeded to the light. Here Deerslayer’s an- 
 tagonist so far recovered his breath and his recol- 
 lection, for he had been throttled nearly to stran- 
 gulation, as to relate the manner in which the girl 
 had got off. It was now too late to assail the 
 other fugitives, for no sooner was his friend led 
 into the bushes than the Delaware placed his pad- 
 dle into the water, and the light canoe glided 
 noiselessly away, holding its course toward the 
 centre of the lake, until safe from shot, after 
 which it sought the ark. 
 
 When Deerslayer reached the fire, he found 
 himself surrounded by no less than eight grim 
 savages, among whom was his old acquaintance 
 Rivenoak. As soon as the latter caught a glimpse 
 of the captive’s countenance, he spoke apart to 
 faia companions, and a low but general exclamation 
 of pleasure and surprise escaped them. They 
 knew that the conqueror of their late friend, he 
 who had fallen on the opposite side of the lake, 
 was in their hands, and subject to their mercy or 
 vengeance. There was no little admiration min- 
 gled in the ferocious looks that were thrown on 
 the prisoner, an admiration that was as much ex- 
 cited by his present composure as by his past 
 deeds. This scene may be said to have been the 
 commencement of the great and terrible repu- 
 tation that Deerslayer, or Hawkeye, as he was 
 afterward called, enjoyed among all the tribes of 
 New York and Canada; a reputation that was 
 certainly more limited in its territorial and nu- 
 merical extent, than those which are possessed in 
 civilized life, but which was compensated for what 
 it wanted in these particulars, perhaps, by its 
 greater justice, and the total absence of mystifi- 
 cation and management. 
 
 The arms of Deerslayer were not pinioned, 
 and he was left the free use of his hands, his 
 knife having been first removed. The only pre- 
 caution that was taken to secure his person was 
 untiring watchfulness, and a strong rope of bark 
 that passed from ankle to ankle, not so much to 
 prevent his walking as to place an obstacle in the 
 way of his attempting to escape by any sudden 
 9 
 
 leap. Even this extra provision against flight 
 was not made until the captive had been brought 
 to the light and his character ascertained. It 
 was, in fact, a compliment to his prowess, and he 
 felt proud of the distinction. That he might be 
 bound when the warriors slept he thought prob- 
 able, but to be bound in the moment of capture 
 showed that he was already, and thus early, at- 
 taining a name. While the young Indians were 
 fastening the rope, he wondered if Chingachgook 
 would have been treated in the same manner had 
 he too fallen into the hands of the enemy. Nor 
 did the reputation of the young pale-face rest al- 
 together on his success in the previous combat, 
 or in his discriminating and cool manner of man- 
 aging the late negotiation ; for it had received a 
 great accession by the occurrences of the night. 
 Ignorant of the movements of the ark, and of the 
 accident that had brought their fire into view, the 
 Iroquois attributed the discovery of their new 
 camp to the vigilance of so shrewd a foe. The 
 manner in which he ventured upon the point, the 
 abstraction or escape of Hist, and most of all 
 the self-devotion of the prisoner, united to the 
 readiness with which he had sent the canoe 
 adrift, were so many important links in the chain 
 of facts on which his growing fame was found- 
 ed. Many of these circumstances had been seen, 
 some had been explained, and all were under- 
 stood. 
 
 While this admiration and these honors were 
 so unreservedly bestowed on Deerslayer, he did 
 not escape some of the penalties of his situation. 
 He was permitted to seat himself on the end of a 
 log, near the fire, in order to dry his clothes, his 
 late adversary standing opposite, now holding 
 articles of his own scanty vestments to the heat, 
 and now feeling his throat, on which the marks 
 of his enemy’s fingers were still quite visible. 
 The rest of the warriors consulted together, near 
 at hand, all those who had been out having re- 
 turned to report that no signs of any other prowl- 
 ers near the camp were to be found. In this 
 state of things, the old woman, whose name was 
 Shebear, in plain English, approached Deerslayer, 
 with her fists clinched and her eyes flashing fire. 
 Hitherto she had been occupied with screaming, 
 an employment at which she had played her part 
 with no small degree of success, but, having sue 
 ceeded in effectually alarming all within reach of 
 a pair of lungs that had been strengthened by 
 long practice, she next turned her attention to 
 the injuries her own person had sustained in the 
 struggle. These were in no manner material, 
 though they were of a nature to arouse all the 
 fury of a woman who had long ceased to attract 
 
128 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 by means of the gentler qualities, and who was 
 much disposed to revenge the hardships she had 
 so long endured, as the neglected wife and mother 
 of savages, on all who came within her power. 
 If Deerslayer had not permanently injured her, 
 he had temporarily caused her to sutler, and she 
 was not a person to overlook a wrong of this na- 
 ture on account of its motive. 
 
 “ Skunk of the pale-faces,” commenced this 
 exasperated and semi-poetic fury, shaking her 
 fist under the nose of the impassable hunter, 
 “you are not even a woman. Your friends, the 
 Delawares, are only women, and you are their 
 sheep. Your own people will not own you, and 
 no tribe of red men would have you in their wig- 
 wams ; you skulk among petticoated warriors. 
 You slay our brave friend who has left us ! — no 
 — his great soul scorned to fight you, and left his 
 body rather than have the shame of slaying you ! 
 But the blood that you spilt when the spirit was 
 not looking on has not sunk into the ground. It 
 must be buried in your groans — what music do I 
 hear ? Those are not the wailings of a red man ! 
 — no red warrior groans so much like a hog. 
 They come from a pale-face throat — a Yengeese 
 bosom, and sound as pleasant as girls singing. 
 Dog — skunk — woodchuck — mink — hedgehog — 
 pig — toad — spider — Yengee — ” 
 
 Here the old woman, having expended her 
 breath, and exhausted her epithets, was fain to 
 x pause a moment, though both her fists were 
 shaken in the prisoner’s face, and the whole of 
 her wrinkled countenance was filled with fierce 
 resentment. Deerslayer looked upon these im- 
 potent attempts to arouse him as indifferently as 
 a gentleman in our own state of society regards 
 the vituperative terms of a blackguard : the one 
 party feeling that the tongue of an old woman 
 could never injure a warrior, and the other know- 
 ing that mendacity and vulgarity can only per- 
 manently affect those who resort to their use ; 
 but he was spared any further attack at present 
 by the interposition of Rivenoak, who shoved 
 aside the hag, bidding her quit the spot, and pre- 
 pared to take his seat at the side of his prisoner. 
 The old woman withdrew, but the hunter well 
 understood that he was to be the subject of all 
 her means of annoyance, if not of positive injury, 
 so long as he remained in the power of his ene- 
 mies ; for nothing rankles so deeply as the con- 
 sciousness that an attempt to irritate has been 
 met by contempt, a feeling that is usually the 
 most passive of any that is harbored in the hu- 
 man breast. Rivenoak quietly took the seat we 
 have mentioned, and, after a short pause, he com- 
 menced a dialogue, which we translate as usual 
 
 for the benefit of those readers who have not 
 studied the North- American languages. 
 
 “ Hy pale-face friend is very welcome,” said 
 the Indian, with a familiar nod, and a smile so 
 covert which it required all Deerslayer’s vigilance 
 to detect, and not a little of his philosophy to 
 detect unmoved ; “ he is welcome. The Hurons 
 keep a hot fire to dry the white man’s clothes.” 
 
 “ I thank you, Huron — or Mingo, as I most 
 like to call you,” returned the other ; “ I thank 
 you for the welcome, and I thank you for the fire. 
 Each is good in its way, and the last is very good 
 when one has been in a spring as cold as the 
 Glimmerglass. Even Huron warmth may be 
 pleasant, at such a time, to a man with a Dela- 
 ware heart.” 
 
 “ The pale-face — but my brother has a name ? 
 So great a warrior would not have lived without 
 a name ? ” 
 
 “Mingo,” said the hunter, a little of the 
 weakness of human nature exhibiting itself in the 
 glance of his eye and the color on his cheek — 
 “ Mingo, your brave called me Hawkeye, I sup- 
 pose on account of a quick and sartain aim, when 
 he was lying with his head in my lap, afore his 
 spirit started for the happy hunting-grounds.” 
 
 “ ; Tis a good name ! The hawk is sure of his 
 blow. Hawkeye is not a woman ; why does he 
 live with the Delawares ? ” 
 
 “ I understand you, Mingo, but we look on all 
 that as a sarcumvention of some of your subtle 
 devils, and deny the charge. Providence placed 
 me among the Delawares young ; and, ’bating 
 what Christian usages demand of my color and 
 gifts, I hope to live and die in their tribe. Still, 
 I do not mean to throw away altogether my 
 native rights, and shall strive to do a pale-face’s 
 duty in red-skin society.” 
 
 “ Good! a Huron is a red-skin’ as well as a 
 Delaware. Hawkeye is more of a Huron than of 
 a woman.” 
 
 “ I suppose you know, Mingo, your own mean- 
 ing ; if you don’t, I make no question ’tis well 
 known to Satan. But if you wish to get any 
 thing out of me, speak plainer, for bargains can 
 not be made blindfolded or tongue-tied.” 
 
 “ Good ! Hawkeye has not a forked tongue, 
 and he likes to say what he thinks. He is an 
 acquaintance of the Muskrat ” — this was a name 
 by which all the Indians designated flutter — 
 “ and he has lived in his wigwam ; but- he is not 
 a friend. He wants no scalps, like a miserable 
 Indian, but fights like a stout-hearted pale-face. 
 The Muskrat is neither white nor red ; neither a 
 beast nor a fish. He is a water-snake; some- 
 times in the spring and sometimes on the land 
 
RIVENOAK’S INTERVIEW WITH HAWKEYE. 
 
 129 
 
 He looks for scalps like an outcast. Ilawkeye 
 can go back and tell him how he has outwitted 
 the Hurons, how he has escaped ; and, when his 
 eyes are in a fog, when he can’t see as far as 
 from his cabin to the woods, then Hawkeye can 
 open the door for the Hurons. And how will the 
 plunder be divided ? Why, Hawkeye will carry 
 away the most, and the Hurons will take what he 
 may choose to leave behind him. The scalps can 
 go to Canada, for a pale-face has no satisfaction 
 in them .' 1 
 
 “Well, well, Rivenoak — for so I hear ’em 
 tarm you — this is plain English enough, though 
 spoken in Iroquois. I understand all you mean, 
 now, and must say it out - devils even Mingo 
 deviltry ! No doubt ’twould be easy enough to 
 go back and tell the Muskrat that I had got away 
 from you, and gain some credit, too, by the ex- 
 pl’ite.” 
 
 “ Good ! that is what I want the pale-iace to 
 do.” 
 
 “Yes — yes — that’s plain enough. I know 
 what you want me to do without more words. 
 When inside the house, and eating the Muskrat’s 
 bread, and laughing and talking with his pretty 
 darters, I might put his eyes into so thick a fog 
 that he couldn’t even see the door, much less the 
 land.” 
 
 “ Good ! Hawkeye should have been born a 
 Huron. His blood is not more than half white ! ” 
 
 “ There you’re out, Huron ; yes, there you’re 
 as much out as if you mistook a w’olf for a cata- 
 mount. I’m white in blood, heart, natur’, and 
 gifts, though a little red-skin in feelin’s and 
 habits. But when old Hutter’s eyes are well be- 
 fogged, and his pretty darters, perhaps, in a deep 
 sleep, and Hurry Harry, the Great Pine, as you 
 Indians tarm him, is dreaming of any thing but 
 mischief, and all suppose Hawkeye is acting as a 
 faithful sentinel, all I have to do is to set a torch 
 somewhere in sight for a signal, open the door, 
 and let in the Hurons to knock ’em all on the 
 head.” 
 
 “ Surely my brother is mistaken ; he cannot 
 be white! He is worthy to be a great chief 
 among the Hurons ! ” 
 
 “ That is true enough, I dares to say, if he 
 oould do all this. Now, harkee, Huron, and for 
 once hear a few honest words from the mouth of 
 a plain man. I am a Christian born, and them 
 that come of such a stock, and that listen to the 
 words that were spoken to their fathers, and will 
 be spoken to their children until ’artli and all it 
 holds perishes, can never lend themselves to such 
 wickedness. Sarcumventions in war may be, and 
 are, lawful ; but sarcumventions, and deceit, and 
 
 treachery, among fri’nds, are fit only for the pale- 
 face devils. I know that there are white men 
 enough to give you this wrong idee of our natur’, 
 but such are ontrue to their blood and gifts, and 
 ought to be, if they are not, outcasts and vaga- 
 bonds. No upright pale-face could do what you 
 wish, and, to be as plain with you as I wish to be, 
 in my judgment no upright Delaware either ; 
 with a Mingo it may be different.” 
 
 The Huron listened to his rebuke with obvious 
 disgust ; but he had his ends in view, and was 
 too wily to lose all chance of effeoting them by a 
 precipitate avowal of resentment. Affecting to 
 smile, he seemed to listen eagerly, and he then 
 pondered on what he had heard. 
 
 “ Does Hawkeye love the Muskrat ? ” he ab- 
 ruptly demanded ; “ or docs he love his daugh- 
 ters ? ” 
 
 “ Neither, Mingo. Old Tom is not a man to 
 gain my love; and as for the darters, they are 
 comely enough to gain the liking of any young 
 man ; but there’s reason ag’in any very great love 
 for either. Hetty is a good soul, but natur’ has 
 laid a heavy hand on her mind, poor thing ! ” 
 
 “ And the Wild Rose ! ” exclaimed the Huron 
 — for the fame of Judith’s beauty had spread 
 among those who could travel the wilderness as 
 well as the highway, by means of old eagles’ 
 nests, rocks, and riven trees, known to them by 
 report and tradition, as well as among the white 
 borderers — “ and the Wild Rose ; is she not 
 sweet enough to be put in the bosom of my broth- 
 er ? ” 
 
 Deerslayer had far too much of the innate 
 gentleman to insinuate aught against the fair 
 fame of one who, by nature and position, was so 
 helpless ; and as he did not choose to utter an un- 
 truth, he preferred being silent. The Huron mis- 
 took the motive, and supposed that disappointed 
 affection lay at the bottom of his reserve. Still 
 bent on corrupting or bribing his captive, in order 
 to obtain possession of the treasures with which 
 his imagination filled the castle, he persevered in 
 his attack. 
 
 “ Hawkeye is talking with a friend,” he con- 
 tinued. “ He knows that Rivenoak is a man of 
 his word, for they have traded together, and trade 
 opens the soul. My friend has come here on ac- 
 count of a little string held by a girl, that can 
 pull the whole body of the stoutest warrior ? ” 
 
 “You are nearer the truth now, Huron, than 
 you’ve been afore, since we began to talk. This 
 is true. But one end of that string was not fast 
 to my heart, nor did the Wild Rose hold the 
 other.” 
 
 “ This is wonderful ! Does my brother love 
 
130 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 in his head, and not in his heart ? And can the 
 Feeble-Mind pull so hard against so stout a war- 
 rior ? ” 
 
 “ There it is ag’in ; sometimes right and some- 
 times wrong ! The string you mean is fast to the 
 heart of a great Delaware ; one of the Mohican 
 stock in fact, living among the Delawares since 
 the dispersion of his own people, and of the fam- 
 ily of Uncas — Chingachgook by name, or Great 
 Sarpent. He has come here, led by the string, 
 and I’ve followed, or rather come afore, for I got 
 here first, pulled by nothing stronger than fri’nd- 
 ship ; which is strong enough for such as are not 
 niggardly of their feelin’s, and are willing to live 
 a little for their fellow-creatur’s as well as for 
 themselves.” 
 
 “ But a string has two ends — one is fast to 
 the mind of a Mohican, and the other — ? ” 
 
 “ Why, the other was here close to the fire, 
 half an hour since. Wah-ta !-Wah held it in her 
 hand, if she didn’t hold it to her heart.” 
 
 “ I understand what you mean, my brother,” 
 returned the Indian gravely, for the first time 
 catching a direct clew to the adventures of the 
 evening. “ The Great Serpent being strongest, 
 pulled the hardest, and Hist was forced to leave us.” 
 
 “ I don’t think there was much pulling about 
 it,” answered the other, laughing, always in his 
 silent manner, with as much heartiness as if he 
 were not a captive, and in danger of torture or 
 death. “ I don’t think there was much pulling 
 about it ; no, I don’t. Lord help you, Huron ! 
 he likes the gal, and the gal likes him, and it sur- 
 passed Huron sarcumventions to keep two young 
 people apart, when there was so strong a feelin’ 
 to bring ’em together.” 
 
 “ And Hawkeye and Chingachgook came into 
 our camp on this errand only ? ” 
 
 “ That’s a question that’ll answer itself, Min- 
 go ! Yes, if a question could talk, it would an- 
 swer itself to your perfect satisfaction. For what 
 else should we come ? And yet, it isn’t exactly 
 so, neither ; for we didn’t come into your camp at 
 all, but only as far as that pine, there, that you 
 see on the other side of the ridge, where we 
 stood watching your movements and conduct as 
 long as we liked. When we were ready the Sar- 
 pent gave his signal, and then all went just as it 
 should, down to the moment when yonder vaga- 
 bond leaped upon my back. Sartain; we came 
 for that, and for no other purpose, and we got 
 what we came for ; there’s no use in pretending 
 otherwise. Hist is off with a man who’s the next 
 thing to her husband, and, come what will to me, 
 that's one good thing detarmined.” 
 
 “ What sign or signal told the young maiden 
 
 that her lover was nigh ? ” asked the old Huron, 
 with more curiosity than it was usual for him to 
 betray. 
 
 Deerslayer laughed again, and seemed to en- 
 joy the success of the exploit with as much glee 
 as if he had not been its victim. 
 
 “ Your squirrels are great gadabouts, Mingo ! ’ 
 he cried, still laughing — “yes, they’re sartainly 
 great gadabouts ! When other folks’ squirrels 
 are at home and asleep, yourn keep in motion 
 among the trees, and chirrup and sing in a way 
 that even a Delaware gal can understand their 
 music ! Well, there’s four-legged squirrels, and 
 there’s two-legged squirrels, and give me the last, 
 when there’s a good tight string atween two hearts. 
 If one brings ’em together, t’other tells when to 
 pull the hardest.” 
 
 The Huron looked vexed, though he succeeded 
 in suppressing any violent exhibition of resent- 
 ment. He soon quitted his prisoner, and, joining 
 the rest of his warriors, he communicated the 
 substance of what he had learned. As in his own 
 case, admiration was mingled with anger at the 
 boldness and success of their enemies. Three or 
 four of them ascended the little acclivity and 
 gazed at the tree where it was understood the ad- 
 venturers had posted themselves, and one even 
 descended to and examined for footprints around 
 its roots, in order to make sure that the state- 
 ment was true. The result confirmed the story 
 of the captive, and they all returned to the fire 
 with increased wonder and respect. The messen- 
 ger, who had arrived with some communication 
 from the party above while the two adventurers 
 were watching the camp, was now dispatched 
 with some answer, and doubtless bore with him 
 the intelligence of all that had happened. 
 
 Down to this moment, the young Indian who 
 had been seen walking in company with Hist and 
 another female, had made no advances to any 
 communications with Deerslayer. He had held 
 himself aloof from his friends even, passing near 
 the bevy of younger women who were clustering 
 together, apart as usual, and conversed In low 
 tones on the subject of the escape of their late 
 companion. Perhaps it would be true to say, that 
 these last were pleased as well as vexed at what 
 had just occurred. Their female sympathies were 
 with the lovers, while their pride was bound up 
 in the success of their own tribe. It is possible, 
 too, that the superior personal advantages ol Hist 
 rendered her dangerous to some of the younger 
 part of the group, and they were not sorry to 
 find she was no longer in the way of their own 
 ascendency. On the whole, however, the better 
 feeling was most prevalent ; for neither the wild 
 
THE MENACES OF CATAMOUNT. 
 
 131 
 
 condition in which they lived, the clannish pre- 
 judices of tribes, nor their hard fortunes as In- 
 dian women, could entirely conquer the inex- 
 tinguishable leaning of their sex to the affections. 
 One of the girls even laughed at the disconsolate 
 look of the swain who might fancy himself de- 
 serted, a circumstance that seemed suddenly to 
 arouse his energies, and induced him to move 
 toward the log on which the prisoner was still 
 seated, drying his clothes. 
 
 “ This is Catamount ! ” said the Indian, strik- 
 ing his hand boastfully on his naked breast as he 
 uttered the words, in a manner to show how 
 much weight he expected them to carry. 
 
 “This is Hawkeye,” quietly returned Deer- 
 slayer, adopting the name by which he knew he 
 would be known in future among all the tribes of 
 the Iroquois. “ My sight is keen : is ipy brother’s 
 eap long ? ” 
 
 “ From here to the Delaware villages. 
 Hawkeye has stolen my wife : he must bring her 
 back, or his scalp will hang on a pole and dry in 
 my wigwam.” 
 
 “Hawkeye has stolen nothing, Huron. He 
 doesn’t come of a thieving breed, nor has he 
 thieving gifts. Your wife, as you callWah-ta!- 
 Wah, will never be the wife of any red-skin of 
 the Canadas ; her mind is in the cabin of a Dela- 
 ware, and her body has gone to find it. The 
 catamount is actyve, I know ; but its legs can’t 
 keep pace with a woman’s wishes.” 
 
 “ The Serpent of the Delawares is a dog : he 
 is a poor bull-pout that keeps in the water ; he is 
 afraid to stand on the hard earth like a brave 
 Indian ! ” 
 
 “Well, well, Huron, that’s pretty impudent, 
 considering it’s not an hour since the Sarpent 
 stood within a hundred feet of you, and would 
 have tried the toughness of your skin with a rifle- 
 bullet, when I pointed you out to him, hadn’t I 
 laid the weight of a little judgment on his hand. 
 You may take in timersome gals in the settle- 
 ments with your catamount whine ; but the ears 
 of a man can tell truth from ontruth.” 
 
 “ Hist laughs at him ! She sees he is lame, 
 and a poor hunter, and he has never been on a 
 war-path. She will take a man for a husband, 
 and not a fool.” 
 
 “ How do you know that, Catamount ? how do 
 you know that ? ” returned Deerslayer, laughing. 
 
 “ She has gone into the lake, you see, and maybe 
 she prefers a trout to a mongrel cat. As for war- 
 paths, neither the Sarpent nor I have much expe- 
 r’ence, we are ready to own ; but if you don’t call 
 this one, you must tarm it what the gals in the 
 ettlements tarm it, the high-road to matrimony. 
 
 Take my advice, Catamount, and s’arch for a wife 
 among the Huron women ; you’ll never get one 
 with a willing mind from among the Delawares.” 
 Catamount’s hand felt for his tomahawk, and 
 when the fingers reached the handle they worked 
 convulsively, as if their owner hesitated between 
 policy and resentment. At this critical moment 
 Rivenoak approached, and, by a gesture of au- 
 thority, induced the young man to retire, as- 
 suming his former position himself on the log, at 
 the side of Deerslayer. Here he continued silent 
 for a little time, maintaining the grave reserve of 
 an Indian chief. 
 
 “ Hawkeye is right,” the Iroquois at length be- 
 gan ; “his sight is so strong that he can see truth 
 in a dark night, and our eyes have been blinded. 
 He is an owl, darkness hiding nothing from him. 
 He ought not to strike his friends. He is right.” 
 
 “ I’m glad you think so, Mingo,” returned the 
 other, “for a traitor, in my judgment, is worse 
 than a coward. I care as little for the Muskrat 
 as one pale-face ought to care for another ; but I 
 care too much for him to ambush him in the way 
 you wished. In short, according to my idees, any 
 sarcumvention, except open-war sarcumventions, 
 are ag’in both law, and what we whites call ‘gos- 
 pel,’ too.” 
 
 “ My pale-face brother is right ; he is no In- 
 dian to forget his Manitou and his color. The 
 Hurons know that they have a great warrior for 
 their prisoner, and they will treat him as one. If 
 he is to be tortured, his torments shall be such 
 as no common man can bear ; if he is to be treat- 
 ed as a friend, it will be the friendship of chiefs.” 
 
 As the Huron uttered this extraordinary as- 
 surance of consideration, his eye furtively glanced 
 at the countenance of his listener, in order to dis- 
 cover how he stood the compliment ; though his 
 gravity and apparent sincerity would have pre- 
 vented any man but one practised in artifices 
 from detecting his motives. Deerslayer belonged 
 to the class of the unsuspicious ; and acquainted 
 with the Indian notions of what constituted re- 
 spect, in matters connected with the treatment of 
 captives, he felt his blood chill at the announce- 
 ment, even while he maintained an aspect so 
 steeled that his quick-sighted enemy could dis- 
 cover in it no signs of weakness. 
 
 “ God has put me in your hands, Huron,” the 
 captive at length answered, “ and I suppose you 
 will act your will on me. I shall not boast of 
 what I can do, under torment, for I’ve never been 
 tried, and no man can say till he has been ; but 
 I’ll do my indivors not to disgrace the people 
 among whom I got my training. Howsever, I 
 wish you now to bear witness, that I’m altogether 
 
132 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 of white blood, and, in a nat’ral way, of white 
 gifts, too ; so, should I be overcome and forget 
 myself, I hope you’ll lay the fault where it prop- 
 erly belongs ; and in no manner put it on the 
 Delawares, or their allies and friends the Mo- 
 hicans. We’re all created with more or less 
 weakness, and I’m afeard it’s a pale-face’s to give 
 in under great bodily torment, when a red-skin 
 will sing his songs, and boast of his deeds, in the 
 very teeth of his foes ! ” 
 
 “We shall see. Hawkey e has a good coun- 
 tenance, and he is tough. But why should he be 
 tormented when the Hurons love him ? He is 
 not born their enemy ; and the death of one war- 
 rior will not cast a cloud between them forever.” 
 
 “ So much the better, Huron ; so much the 
 better. Still, I don’t wish to owe any thing to a 
 mistake about each other’s meaning. It is so 
 much the better that you bear no malice for the 
 loss of a warrior who fell in war ; and yet it is 
 ontrue that there is no inmity — lawful inmity, I 
 mean, atween us. So far as I have red-skin feel- 
 in’s at all, I’ve Delaware feelin’s ; and I leave you 
 to judge for yourself how far they are likely to 
 be fri’ndly to the Mingoes — ” 
 
 Deerslayer ceased, for a sort of spectre stood 
 before him that put a stop to his words, and, in- 
 deed, caused him for a moment to doubt the 
 fidelity of his boasted vision. Hetty Hutter was 
 standing at the side of the fire, as quietly as if 
 she belonged to the tribe. 
 
 As the hunter and the Indian sat watching 
 the emotions that were betrayed in each other’s 
 countenance, the girl had approached unnoticed, 
 doubtless ascending from the beach on the south- 
 ern side of the point, or that next to the spot 
 where the ark had anchored, and had advanced 
 to the fire with the fearlessness that belonged 
 to her simplicity, and which was certainly justi- 
 fied by the treatment formerly received from the 
 Indians. As soon as Rivenoak perceived the 
 girl, she was recognized, and, calling to two or 
 three of the younger warriors, the chief sent them 
 out to reconnoitre, lest her appearance should be 
 the forerunner of another attack. He then mo- 
 tioned to Hetty to draw near. 
 
 “ I hope your visit is a sign that the Sarpent 
 and Hist are in safety, Hetty,” said Deerslayer, 
 as soon as the girl had complied with the Hu- 
 ron’s request. “ I don’t think you’d come ashore 
 ag’in on the ar’n’d that brought you here afore.” 
 
 “ Judith told me to come this time, Deerslay- 
 er,” Hetty replied ; “ she paddled me ashore her- 
 self, in a canoe, as soon as the Serpent had shown 
 her Hist, and told his story. How handsome 
 Hist is to-night, Deerslayer, and how much hap- 
 
 pier she looks than when she was with the Hu- 
 rons ! ” 
 
 “ That’s natur’, gal ; yes, that may be set 
 down as human natur’. She’s with her betrothed, 
 and no longer fears a Mingo husband. In my 
 judgment, Judith herself would lose most of her 
 beauty if she thought she was to bestow it all on 
 a Mingo ! Content is a great fortifier of good 
 looks ; and, I’ll warrant you, Hist is contented 
 enough, now she is out of the hands of these mis- 
 creants and with her chosen warrior ! — Did you 
 say that your sister told you to come ashore — 
 why should Judith do that ? ” 
 
 “ She bid me come to see you, and to try 
 and persuade the savages to take more elephants 
 to let you off ; but I’ve brought the Bible with 
 me — that will do more than all the elephants in 
 father’s chest ! ” 
 
 “And your father, good little Hetty — and 
 Hurry ; did they know of your ar’n’d ? ” 
 
 “ Nothing. Both are asleep ; and Judith and 
 the Serpent thought it best they should not be 
 woke, lest they might want to come again after 
 scalps, when Hist had told them how few war- 
 riors, and how many women and children, there 
 were in the camp. Judith would give me no 
 peace till I had come ashore, to see what had 
 happened to you .” 
 
 “Well, that’s remarkable as consarns Ju- 
 dith ! Why should she feel so much unsartainty 
 about me ? Ah, I see how it is now ; yes, I see 
 into the whole matter now. You must under- 
 stand, Hetty, that your sister is oneasy lest Har- 
 ry March should wake, and come blundering here 
 into the hands of the inimy ag’in, under some 
 idee that, being a travelling comrade, he ought 
 to help me in this matter ! Hurry is a blunderer, 
 I will allow ; but I don’t think he’d risk as much 
 for my sake as he would for his own.” 
 
 “ Judith don’t care for Hurry, though Hurry 
 cares for her,” replied Hetty, innocently, but 
 quite positively. 
 
 “ I’ve heard you say as much as that afore ; 
 yes, I’ve heard that from you afore, gal ; and 
 yet it isn’t true. One don’t live in a tribe, not to 
 see something of the way in which liking works 
 in a woman’s heart. Though no way given to 
 marrying myself, I’ve been a looker-on among the 
 Delawares, and this is a matter in which pale-face 
 and red-skin gifts are all as one and the same. 
 When the feelin’ begins, the young woman is 
 thoughtful, and has no eyes or ears onles3 for the 
 warrior that has taken her fancy ; then follows 
 melancholy and sighing, and such sort of actions ; 
 after which, especially if matters don’t come tc 
 plain discourse, she often flies round to backbit- 
 
HETTY REVISITING THE INDIANS. 
 
 *ng and fault-finding, blaming the youth for the 
 very things she likes best in him. Some young 
 creatur’s are forward in this way of showing their 
 love, and I’m of opinion Judith is one of ’em. 
 Now, I’ve heard her as much as deny that Hurry 
 was good-looking; and the young woman who 
 could do that , must be far gone indeed.” 
 
 “ The young woman who liked Hurry would 
 own that he is handsome, /think Hurry very 
 handsome, Deerslayer, and I’m sure everybody 
 must think so that has eyes. Judith don’t like 
 Harry March, and that’s the reason she finds fault 
 with him.” 
 
 “ Well — well — my good little Hetty, have it 
 your own way ; if we should talk from now till 
 winter, each would think as at present ; and 
 there’s no use in words. I must believe that Ju- 
 dith is much wrapped up in Hurry, and that, 
 sooner or later, she’ll have him ; and this, too, 
 all the more from the manner in which she abuses 
 him ; and, I dare say, you think just the con- 
 trary. But mind what I now tell you, gal, and 
 pretend not to know it,” continued this being, 
 who was so obtuse ona point on which men are 
 usually quick enough to make discoveries, and so 
 acute in matters that would baffle the observation 
 of much the greater portion of mankind ; “ I see 
 how it is with them vagabonds. Rivenoak has 
 left us, you see, and is talking yonder with his 
 young men ; and, though too far to be heard, I 
 can see what he is telling them. Their orders is 
 to watch your movements, and to find where the 
 canoe is to meet you, to take you back to the 
 ark, and then to seize all and what they can. I’m 
 sorry Judith sent you, for I suppose she wants 
 you to go back ag’in.” 
 
 “ All that’s settled, Deerslayer,” returned the 
 girl in a low, confidential, and meaning manner ; 
 “ and you may trust me to outwit the best Indian 
 of them all. I know I am feeble-minded, but 
 I’ve got some sense, and you’ll see how I’ll use it 
 in getting back when my errand is done ! ” 
 
 “Ah’s me! poor girl; I’m afeard all that’s 
 easier said than done. They’re a venomous set 
 of riptyles, and their p’ison’s none the milder for 
 the loss of Hist. Well, I’m glad the Sarpent was 
 the one to get off with the gal ; for now ther’ll 
 be two happy, at least ; whereas, had he fallen 
 irk the hands of the Mingoes, there’d be two 
 miserable, and another far from feelin’ as a man 
 likes to feel.” 
 
 “ Now you put me in mind of a part of my 
 errand, that I had almost forgotten, Deerslayer. 
 Judith told me to ask you what you thought the 
 Hurons w6uld do with you if you couldn’t be 
 bought off, and what she had best do to serve 
 
 13a 
 
 you. Yes, this was the most important part of 
 the errand — what she had best do in order to 
 serve you.” 
 
 “ That’s as you think, Hetty ; but it’s no mat- 
 ter. Young women are apt to lay most stress on 
 what most touches their feelin’ s ; but no matter ; 
 have it your own way, so you be but careful not 
 to let the vagabonds get the mastery of a canoe. 
 When you get back to the ark, tell ’em to keep 
 close, and to keep moving too, most especially at 
 night. Many hours can’t go by without the 
 troops on the river hearing of this party, and 
 then your fri’nds may look for relief ’Tis but a 
 day’s march from the nearest garrison, and true 
 soldiers will never lie idle with the foe in their 
 neighborhood. This is my advice, and you may 
 say to your father and Hurry that scalp-hunting 
 will be a poor business now, as the Mingoes are 
 up and awake, and nothing can save ’em ’till the 
 troops come, except keeping a good belt of water 
 atween ’em and the savages.” 
 
 “ What shall I tell Judith about you, Deer- 
 slayer ? I know she will send me back again, if 
 I don’t bring her the truth about you” 
 
 “ Then tell her the truth. I see no reason 
 Judith Hutter shouldn’t hear the truth about me 
 as well as a lie. I’m a captyve in Indian hands, 
 and Providence only knows what will come of it ! 
 Hark’ee, Hetty — ” dropping his voice and speak- 
 ing still more confidentially, “ you are a little 
 weak-minded, it must be allowed, but you know 
 something of Injins. Here I am in their hands, 
 after having slain one of their stoutest warriors, 
 and they’ve been endivormg to work upon me, 
 through fear of consequences, to betray your fa- 
 ther and all in the ark. I understand the black- 
 guards as well as if they told it all out plainly 
 with their tongues. They hold up avarice afore 
 me on one side, and fear on t’other, and think 
 honesty will give way atween ’em both. But let 
 your father and Hurry know ’tis all useless ; as 
 for the Sarpent, he knows it already.” 
 
 “ But what shall I tell Judith ? She will cer- 
 tainly send me back if I don’t satisfy her mind. 
 
 “ Well, tell Judith the same. No doubt the 
 savages will try the torments to make me give in, 
 and to revenge the loss of their warrior, but I 
 must hold out ag’in nat’ral weakness in the best 
 manner I can. You may tell Judith to feel no 
 consarn on my account — it will come hard, I 
 know, seeing that a white man’s gifts don’t run 
 to boasting and singing under torment, for he 
 generally feels smallest when he suffers most — 
 but you may tell her not to have any consarn. I 
 think I shall make out to stand it ; and she may 
 rely on this, let me give in as much as I may, and 
 
m 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 prove completely that I am white, by wailings, 
 and howlings, and even tears, yet I’ll never fall 
 bo far as to betray my fri’nds. When it gets to 
 burning holes in the flesh with heated ramrods, 
 and to hacking the body, and tearing the hair 
 out by the roots, Natur’ may get the upperhand, 
 eo far as groans and complaints are consarned, 
 but there the triumph of the vagabonds will ind ; 
 nothing short of God’s abandoning him to the 
 devils, can make an honest man ontrue to his 
 color and duty.” 
 
 Hetty listened with great attention, and her 
 mild but speaking countenance manifested a 
 strong sympathy in the anticipated agony of the 
 supposititious sufferer. At first she seemed at a 
 loss how to act ; then, taking a hand of Deer- 
 slayer’s, she affectionately recommended to him 
 to borrow her Bible, and to read it while the 
 savages were inflicting their torments. When the 
 other honestly admitted that it exceeded his pow- 
 er to read, she even volunteered to remain with 
 him, and to perform this holy office in person. 
 The offer was gently declined, and, Rivenoak be- 
 ing about to join them, Deerslayer requested the 
 girl to leave him, first enjoining her again to tell 
 those in the ark to have full confidence in his 
 fidelity. Hetty now walked away, and approached 
 the group of females with as much confidence 
 and self-possession as if she were a native of the 
 tribe. On the other hand, the Huron resumed 
 his seat by the side of his prisoner, the one 
 continuing to ask questions with all the wily in- 
 genuity of a practised Indian counsellor, and the 
 other baffling him by the very means that are 
 known to be the most efficacious in defeating the 
 finesse of the more pretending diplomacy of civil- 
 ization, or by confining his answers to the truth, 
 and the truth only. 
 
 CHAPTER XYIII. 
 
 “ Thus died she ; never more on her 
 Shall sorrow light, or shame. She was not made 
 Through years or moons the inner weight to bear, 
 Which colder hearts endure till they are laid 
 By age in earth ; her days and pleasures were 
 Brief but delightful — such as had not stayed 
 Long with her destiny ; but she sleeps well 
 Bv the sea-shore whereon she loved to dwell.” 
 
 Byron. 
 
 TnE young men who had been sent out to 
 reconnoitre, on the sudden appearance of Hetty, 
 soon returned to report their want of success in 
 making any discovery. One of them had even been 
 along the beach as far as the spot opposite to the 
 
 ark, but the darkness completely concealed that 
 vessel from his notice. Others had examined in 
 different directions, and everywhere the stillness 
 of night was added to the silence and solitude of 
 the woods. It was consequently believed that 
 the girl had come alone, as on her former visit, 
 and on some similar errand. The Iroquois wei’e 
 ignorant that the ark had left the castle, and 
 there were movements projected, if not in the 
 course of actual execution by this time, which 
 also greatly added to the sense of security. A 
 watch was set, therefore, and all but the senti- 
 nels disposed themselves to sleep. 
 
 Sufficient care was had to the safe keeping of 
 the captive, without inflicting on him any unne- 
 cessary suffering ; and, as for Hetty, she was per- 
 mitted to find a place among the Indian girls, in 
 the best manner she could. She did not find the 
 friendly offices of Hist, though her character not 
 only bestowed impunity from pain and captivity, 
 but it procured for her a consideration and an 
 attention that placed her, on the score of com- 
 fort, quite on a level with the wild but gentle be- 
 ings around her. She was supplied with a skin, 
 and made her own bed on a pile of boughs a lit- 
 tle apart from the huts. Here she was soon in a 
 profound sleep, like all around her. 
 
 There were now thirteen men in the party, 
 and three kept watch at a time. One remained 
 in shadow, not far from the fire, however. His 
 duty was to guard the captive, to take care that 
 the fire neither blazed up so as to illuminate the 
 spot, nor yet become wholly extinguished; and 
 to keep an eye generally on the state of the camp. 
 Another passed from one beach to the other, 
 crossing the base of the point ; while the third 
 kept moving slowly around the strand on its 
 outer extremity, to prevent a repetition of the 
 surprise that had already taken place that night. 
 This arrangement was far from being usual among 
 savages, who ordinarily rely more on the secrecy 
 of their movements than on vigilance of this na- 
 ture ; but it had been called for by the peculiari- 
 ty of the circumstances in which the Hurons 
 were now placed. Their position was known to 
 their foes, and it could not easily be changed at 
 an hour which demanded rest. Perhaps, too, 
 they placed most of their confidence on the 
 knowledge of what they believed to be passing 
 higher up the lake, and which, it was thought, 
 would fully occupy the whole of the pale-faces, 
 who were at liberty, with their solitary Indian 
 ally. It was also probable Rivenoak was aware, 
 that, in holding his captive, he had in his own 
 hands the most dangerous of all his enemies. 
 
 The precision with which those accustomed 
 
THE HURON SENTINELS. 
 
 135 
 
 to watchfulness, or lives of disturbed rest, sleep, 
 is not the least of the phenomena of our mysteri- 
 ous being. The head is no sooner on the pillow 
 than consciousness is lost ; and yet, at a neces- 
 sary hour the mind appears to arouse the body 
 as promptly as if it had stood sentinel over it the 
 while. There can be no doubt that they who are 
 thus roused awake by the influence of thought 
 over matter, though the mode in which this in- 
 fluence is exercised must remain hidden from our 
 curiosity, until it shall be explained, should that 
 hour ever arrive, by the entire enlightenment of the 
 soul on the subject of all human mysteries. Thus 
 it was with Hetty Hutter. Feeble as the imma- 
 terial portion of her existence was thought to be, 
 it was sufficiently active to cause her to open her 
 eyes at midnight. At that hour she awoke, and, 
 leaving her bed of skin and boughs, she walked 
 innocently and openly to the embers of the fire, 
 stirring the latter, as the coolness of the night 
 and the woods, in connection with an exceedingly 
 unsophisticated bed, had a little chilled her. As 
 the flame shot up, it lighted the swarthy counte- 
 nance of the Huron on watch, whose dark eyes 
 glistened under its light, like the balls of the pan- 
 ther that is pursued to his den with burning 
 brands. But Hetty felt no fear, and she ap- 
 proached the spot where the Indian stood. Her 
 movements were so natural, and so perfectly de- 
 void of any of the stealthiness of cunning or 
 deception, that he imagined she had merely arisen 
 on account of the coolness of the night, a com- 
 mon occurrence in a bivouac, and the one of all 
 others, perhaps, the least likely to excite suspi- 
 cion. Hetty spoke to him, but he understood no 
 English. She then gazed near a minute at the 
 sleeping captive, and moved slowly away in a 
 sad and melancholy manner. 
 
 The girl took no pains to conceal her move- 
 ments. Any ingenious expedient of this nature, 
 quite likely, exceeded her powers ; still her step 
 was habitually light, and scarcely audible. As she 
 took the direction of the extremity of the point, 
 or the place where she had landed in the first ad- 
 venture, and where Hist had embarked, the senti- 
 nel saw her light form gradually disappear in the 
 gloom without uneasiness or changing his own 
 position. He knew that others were on the look- 
 out, and he did not believe that one who had 
 twice come into the camp voluntarily, and had 
 already left it openly, would take refuge in flight. 
 In short, the conduct of the girl excited no more 
 attention than that of any person of feeble intellect 
 would excite in civilized society, while her person 
 met with more consideration and respect. 
 
 Hetty certainly had no very distinct notions 
 
 of the localities, but she found her way to the 
 beach, which she reached on the same side of the 
 point as that on which the camp had been made. 
 By following the margin of the water, taking a 
 northern direction, she soon encountered the 
 Indian who paced the strand as sentinel. This 
 was a young warrior, and when he heard her 
 light tread coming along the gravel he approached 
 swiftly, though with any thing but menace in his 
 manner. The darkness was so intense that it was 
 not easy to discover forms, within the shadows 
 of the woods, at the distance of twenty feet, and 
 quite impossible to distinguish persons until near 
 enough to touch them. The Huron manifested 
 disappointment when he found whom he had met ; 
 for, truly to say, he was expecting his favorite, 
 who had promised to relieve the ennui of a mid- 
 night watch with her presence. This man was 
 also ignorant of English, but he was at no loss to 
 understand why the girl should be up at that 
 hour. Such things were usual in an Indian village 
 and camp, where sleep is as irregular as the meals. 
 Then poor Hetty’s known imbecility, as in most 
 things connected with the savages, stood her 
 friend on this occasion. Vexed at his disappoint- 
 ment, and impatient of the presence of one he 
 thought an intruder, the warrior signed for the 
 girl to move forward, holding the direction of the 
 beach. Hetty complied ; but, as she walked 
 away, she spoke aloud in English, in her usual 
 soft tones, which the stillness of the night made 
 audible at some little distance. 
 
 “ If you took me for a Huron girl, warrior,” 
 she said, “ I don’t wonder you are so little pleased. 
 I am Hetty Hutter, Thomas Hutter’s daughter, and 
 have never met any man at night, for mother 
 always said it was wrong, and modest young wom- 
 en should never do it ; modest young women of 
 the pale-faces, I mean ; for customs are different 
 in different parts of the world, I know. No, no ; 
 I’m Hetty Hutter, and wouldn’t meet even Hurry 
 Harry, though he should fall down on his knees 
 and ask me ! mother said it was wrong ” 
 
 By the time Hetty had said this, she reached 
 the place where the canoes had come ashore, and, 
 owing to the curvature of the land and the bushes, 
 would have been completely hid from the sight of 
 the sentinel, had it been broad day. But another 
 footstep caught the lover’s ear, and he was already 
 nearly beyond the girl’s silvery voice. Still Hetty, 
 bent only on her own thoughts and purposes, con- 
 tinued to speak, though the gentleness of her 
 tones prevented the sounds from penetrating far 
 into the woods. On the water they were more 
 widely diffused. 
 
 “Here I am, Judith,” she added, “ and there 
 
136 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 Is no one near me. The Huron on watch has gone 
 to meet his sweetheart, who is an Indian girl, you 
 know, and never had a Christian mother to tel 
 her how wrong it is to meet a man at night — ” 
 
 Hetty’s voice was hushed by a “hist ! ” that 
 came from the water, and then she caught a dim 
 view of the canoe, which approached noiselessly, 
 and soon grated on the shingle with its bow. 
 The moment the weight of Hetty was felt in the 
 light craft, the canoe withdrew, stern foremost, as 
 if possessed of life and volition, until it was a hun- 
 dred yards from the shore. Then it turned, and 
 making a wide sweep, as much to prolong the 
 passage as to get beyond the sound of voices, it 
 held its way toward the ark. For several minutes 
 nothing was uttered ; but, believing herself to be 
 in a favorable position to confer with her sister, 
 Judith, who alone sat in the stern, managing the 
 canoe with a skill little short of that of a man, 
 began a discourse, which she had been burning to 
 commence ever since they quitted the point. 
 
 “ Here we are safe, Hetty,” she said, “ and 
 may talk without the fear of being overheard. 
 You must speak low, however, for sounds are 
 heard far on the water in a still night. I was so 
 close to the point, some of the time, while you 
 were on it, that I have heard the voices of the 
 warriors, and I heard your shoes on the gravel of 
 the beach, even before you spoke.” 
 
 “ I don’t believe, Judith, the Hurons know I 
 have left them.” 
 
 “ Quite likely they do not, for a lover makes 
 a poor sentry, unless it be to watch for his sweet, 
 heart! But tell me, Hetty, did you see and speak 
 with Deerslayer ? ” 
 
 “ Oh, yes — there he was seated near the fire ? 
 with his legs tied, though they left his arms free 
 to move them as he pleased.” 
 
 “Well, what did he tell you, child ? Speak 
 quick ; I am dying to know what message he 
 sent me.” 
 
 “ What did he tell me ? why, what do you 
 think, Judith ; he told me that he couldn’t read ! 
 Only think of that ! a white man, and not know 
 how to read his Bible, even ! He never could 
 have had a mother, sister ! ” 
 
 “Never mind that , Hetty. All men can’t 
 read ; though mother knew so much, and taught 
 us so much, father knows very little about books, 
 and he can barely read the Bible, you know.” 
 
 “ Oh ! I never thought fathers could read much^ 
 but mothers ought all to read, else how can they 
 teach their children? Depend on it, Judith, 
 Deerslayer could never have had a mother, else 
 he would know how to read.” 
 
 “ Did you tell him / sent you ashore, Hetty, 
 
 and how much concern I feel for his misfortune ? * 
 asked the other, impatiently. 
 
 “ I believe I did, Judith ; but you know I am 
 feeble-minded, and I may have forgotten. I did 
 tell him you brought me ashore. And he told 
 me a great deal that I was to say to you, which I 
 remember well, for it made my blood run cold to 
 hear him. He told me to say that his friends — I 
 suppose you are one of them, sister — ? ” 
 
 “How can you torment me thus, Hetty ? 
 Certainly, I am one of the truest friends he has 
 on earth.” 
 
 “ Torment you ! yes, now I remember all about 
 it. I am glad you used that word, Judith, for it 
 brings it all back to my mind. Well, he said he 
 might be tormented by the savages, but he would 
 try to bear it as becomes a Christian white man, 
 and that no one need be afeard — why does Deer- 
 slayer call it afeard, when mother always taught 
 us to say afraid ? ” 
 
 “ Never mind, dear Hetty, never mind that 
 now,” cried the other, almost gasping for breath. 
 “ Did Deerslayer really tell you that he thought 
 the savages would put him to the torture ? Recol- 
 lect now, well, Hetty, for this is a most awful 
 and serious thing.” 
 
 “ Yes, he did ; and I remember it by your 
 speaking about my tormenting you. Oh ! I felt 
 very sorry for him, and Deerslayer took all so 
 quietly and without noise ! Deerslkyer is not as 
 handsome as Hurry Harry, Judith, but he is more 
 quiet.” 
 
 “ He’s worth a million Hurrys ! yes, he’s 
 worth all the young men who ever came upon the 
 lake put together,” said Judith, with an energy 
 and positiveness that caused her sister to wonder. 
 “ He is true. There is no lie about Deerslayer. 
 You , Hetty, may not know what a merit it is in a 
 man to have truth, but when you get — no — I hope 
 you will never know it. Why should one like 
 you be ever made to learn the hard lesson to dis- 
 trust and hate ? ” 
 
 Judith bowed her face, dark as it was, and 
 unseen as she must have been, by any eye but 
 that of Omniscience, between her hands, and 
 groaned. This sudden paroxysm of feeling, how- 
 ever, lasted but for a moment, and she continued 
 more calmly, still speaking frankly to her sister, 
 whose intelligence and whose discretion in any 
 thing that related to herself, she did not in the 
 least distrust. Her voice, however, was low and 
 husky, instead of having its former clearness and 
 animation. 
 
 “ It is a hard thing to fear truth, Hetty,” she 
 said ; “ and yet do I more dread Deerslayer’s 
 truth than any enemy ! One cannot tamper with 
 
THE SISTERS’ PRIVATE OPINIONS. 
 
 *uch truth — so much honesty — such obstinate up- 
 rightness ! But we are not altogether unequal, 
 Bister — Deerslayer and I ? He is not altogether 
 my superior ? ” 
 
 It was not usual for Judith so far to demean 
 herself as to appeal to Hetty’s judgment. Nor 
 did she often address her by the title of sister, a 
 distinction that is commonly given by the junior 
 to the senior, even where there is perfect equality 
 in all other respects. As trifling departures from 
 habitual deportment oftener strike the imagina- 
 tion than more important changes, Hetty per- 
 ceived the circumstances, and wondered at them 
 in her own simple way. 
 
 Her ambition was a little quickened, and the 
 answer was as much out of the usual course of 
 things as the question ; the poor girl attempting 
 to refine beyond her strength. 
 
 “ Superior, Judith ! ” she repeated with pride. 
 “ In what can Deerslayer be your superior ? Are 
 you not mother’s child — and does he know how 
 to read — and wasn’t mother before any woman in 
 all this part of the world ? I should think, so 
 far from supposing himself your superior, he 
 would hardly believe himself mine. You are 
 handsome, and he is ugly — ” 
 
 “No, not ugly, Hetty,” interrupted Judith. 
 “Only plain. But his honest face has a look 
 in it that is far better than beauty. In my 
 eyes Deerslayer is handsomer than Hurry Har- 
 ry.” 
 
 “ Judith Hutter ! you frighten me. Hurry is 
 the handsomest mortal in the world — even hand- 
 somer than you are yourself ; because a man’s 
 good looks, you know, are always better than a 
 woman’s good looks.” 
 
 This little innocent touch of natural taste did 
 not please the elder sister at the moment, and she 
 did not scruple to betray it. 
 
 “Hetty, you now speak foolishly, and had 
 better say no more on this subject,” she answered. 
 “ Hurry is not the handsomest mortal in the world, 
 by many ; and there are officers in the garri- 
 sons — ” Judith stammered at the words — “ there 
 are officers in the garrisons near us, far comelier 
 than he. But, why do you think me the equal of 
 Deerslayer — speak of that , for I do not like to hear 
 you show so much admiration of a man like Hur- 
 ry Harry, who has neither feelings, manners, nor 
 conscience. You are too good for him , and he 
 ought to be told it at once.” 
 
 “ I! Judith, how you forget ! Why I am not 
 beautiful, and am feeble-minded.” 
 
 “ You are good , Hetty, and that is more than 
 can be said of Henry March. He may have a 
 face , and a body , but he has no heart. But enough 
 
 137 
 
 of this, for the present. Tell me what raises me 
 to an equality with Deerslayer.” 
 
 “ To think of you asking me this, Judith ! He 
 can’t read, and you can. He don’t know how to 
 talk, but speaks worse than Hurry even ; for, sis- 
 ter, Harry doesn’t always pronounce his words 
 right ! Did you ever notice that ? ” 
 
 “ Certainly, he is as coarse in speech as in 
 every thing else. But, I fear you flatter me, Het- 
 ty, when you think I can be justly called the equal 
 of a man like Deerslayer. It is true, I have been 
 better taught ; in one sense am more comely ; and 
 perhaps might look higher ; but then his truth — 
 his truth — makes a fearful difference between us ! 
 Well, I will talk no more of this; and we will be- 
 think us of the means of getting him out of the 
 hands of the Hurons. We have father’s chest in 
 the ark, Hetty, and might try the temptation of 
 more elephants ; though I fear such bawbles will 
 not buy the liberty of a man like Deerslayer. I 
 am afraid father and Hurry w r ill not be as willing 
 to ransom Deerslayer, as Deerslayer was to ran- 
 som them ! ” 
 
 “ Why not, Judith? Hurry and Deerslayer 
 are friends, and friends should always help one 
 another.” 
 
 “ Alas ! poor Hetty, you little know mankind ! 
 Seeming friends are often more to be dreaded 
 than open enemies ; particularly by females. But 
 you’ll have to land in the morning, and try again 
 what can be done for Deerslayer. Tortured he 
 shall not be, while Judith Hutter lives, and can 
 find means to prevent it.” 
 
 The conversation now grew desultory, and was 
 drawn out, until the elder sister had extracted 
 from the younger every fact that the feeble facul- 
 ties of the latter permitted her to retain, and to 
 communicate. When Judith was satisfied — 
 though she could never be said to be satisfied, 
 whose feelings seemed to be so interwoven with 
 all that related to the subject as to have excited 
 a nearly inappeasable curiosity — but, when Judith 
 could think of no more questions to ask, without 
 resorting to repetition, the canoe was paddled 
 toward the scow. The intense darkness of the 
 night, and the deep shadows which the hills and 
 forest cast upon the water, rendered it difficult to 
 find the vessel, anchored, as it had been, as close 
 to the shore as a regard to safety rendered pru- 
 dent. Judith was expert in the management of a 
 bark canoe, the lightness of which demanded 
 skill rather than strength ; and she forced her 
 own little vessel swiftly over the water, the mo- 
 ment she had ended her conference with Hetty, 
 and had come to the determination to return. 
 Still no ark was seen. Several times the sisters 
 
138 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER, 
 
 fancied they saw it, looming up in die obscurity, 
 like a low black rock, but on each occasion it was 
 found to be either an optical illusion, or some 
 swell of the foliage on the shore. After a search 
 that lasted half an hour, the girls were forced to the 
 unwelcome conviction that the ark had departed. 
 
 Most young women would have felt the awk- 
 wardness of their situation, in a physical sense, 
 under the circumstances in which the sisters were 
 left, more than any apprehensions of a different 
 nature. Not so with Judith, however ; and even 
 Hetty felt more concern about the motives that 
 might have influenced her father and Hurry, than 
 any fears for her own safety. 
 
 “ It cannot be, Hetty,” said Judith, when a 
 thorough search had satisfied them both that no 
 ark was to be found, “ it cannot be that the In- 
 dians have rafted, or swum off, and surprised our 
 friends as they slept ? ” 
 
 “ I don’t believe that Hist and Chingachgook 
 would sleep until they had told each other all 
 they had to say after so long a separation — do 
 you, sister ? ” 
 
 “Perhaps not, child. There was much to 
 keep them awake, but one Indian may have been 
 surprised even when not asleep, especially as his 
 thoughts may have been on other things. Still 
 we should have heard a noise ; for, in a night like 
 this, an oath of Harry Hurry’s would have echoed 
 in the eastern hills like a clap of thunder.” 
 
 “ Hurry is sinful and thoughtless about his 
 words, Judith,” Hetty meekly and sorrowfully 
 answered. 
 
 “No — no; ’tis impossible the ark could be 
 taken and I not hear the noise. It is not an hour 
 since I left it, and the whole time I have been at- 
 tentive to the smallest sound. And yet, it is not 
 easy to believe a father would willingly abandon 
 his children ! ” 
 
 “ Perhaps father has thought us in our cabin 
 asleep, Judith, and has moved away to go home. 
 You know we often move the ark in the night.” 
 
 “ This is true, Hetty, and it must be as you 
 suppose. There is a little more southern air than 
 there was, and they have gone up the lake — ” 
 
 Judith stopped, for, as the last word was on 
 her tongue, the scene was suddenly lighted, 
 though only for a single instant, by a flash. 
 The crack of a rifle succeeded, and then followed 
 the roll of the echo along the eastern mountains. 
 Almost at the same moment a piercing female cry 
 arose in the air in a prolonged shriek. The a^- 
 ful stillness that succeeded was, if possible, more 
 appalling than the fierce and sudden interruption 
 of the deep silence of midnight. Resolute as she 
 was, both by nature and habit, Judith scarce 
 
 breathed, while poor Hetty hid her face and 
 trembled.” 
 
 “ That was a woman’s cry, Hetty,” said the 
 former, solemnly, “ and it was a cry of anguish ! 
 If the ark has moved from this spot, it can only 
 have gone north with this air, and the gun and 
 shriek came from the point. Can any thing have 
 befallen Hist ? ” 
 
 “ Let us go and see, Judith ; she may want 
 our assistance — for, besides herself, there are 
 none but men in the ark.” 
 
 It was not a moment for hesitation, and, ere 
 Judith had ceased speaking, her paddle was in 
 the water. The distance to the point, in a direct 
 line, was not great, and the impulses under which 
 the girls worked were too exciting to allow them 
 to waste the precious moments in useless precau- 
 tions. They paddled incautiously for them, but 
 the same excitement kept others from noting 
 their movements. Presently a glare of light 
 caught the eye of Judith through an opening in 
 the bushes, and steering by it she so directed the 
 canoe as to keep it visible, while she got as near 
 the land as was either prudent or necessary. 
 
 The scene that was now presented to the ob- 
 servation of the girls was within the woods, on 
 the side of the declivity so often mentioned, and 
 in plain view from the boat. Here all in the 
 camp were collected, some six or eight carrying 
 torches of fat-pine, which cast a strong but 
 funereal light- on all beneath the arches of the 
 forest. With her back supported against a tree, 
 and sustained on one side by the young sentinel 
 whose remissness had suffered Hetty to escape, 
 sat the female whose expected visit had produced 
 his delinquency. By the glare of the torch that 
 was held near her face, it was evident that she 
 was in the agonies of death, while the blood that 
 trickled from her bared bosom betrayed the na- 
 ture of the injuries she had received. The pun- 
 gent, peculiar smell of gunpowder, too, was still 
 quite perceptible in the heavy, damp night air. 
 There could be no question that she had been 
 shot. Judith understood it all at a glance. The 
 streak of light had appeared on the water a short 
 distance from the point, and either the rifle had 
 been discharged from a canoe hovering near the 
 land, or it had been fired from the ark in passing. 
 A n incautious exclamation or laugh may have pro- 
 duced the assault, for it was barely possible that 
 the aim had been assisted by any other agent 
 than sound. As to the effect, that was soon still 
 more apparent, the head of the victim dropping, 
 and the body sinking in death. Then all the 
 torches but one were extinguished — a measure of 
 prudence; and the melancholy train that bore 
 
HURRY’S RANDOM SHOT. 
 
 139 
 
 the body to the camp wasj jst to be distinguished 
 by the glimmering light that remained. 
 
 Judith sighed heavily and shuddered as her 
 paddle again dipped, and the canoe moved cau- 
 tiously around the point. A sight had afflicted 
 her senses, and now haunted her imagination, 
 that was still harder to be borne than even the 
 untimely fate and passing agony of the deceased 
 girl She had seen, under the strong glare of all 
 the torches, the erect form of Deerslayer, stand- 
 ing, with commiseration, and, as she thought, 
 with shame depicted on his countenance, near the 
 dying female. He betrayed neither fear nor 
 backwardness himself; but it was apparent by 
 the glances cast at him by the warriors that fierce 
 passions were struggling in their bosoms. All 
 this seemed to be unheeded by the captive, but it 
 remained impressed on the memory of Judith 
 throughout the night. 
 
 No canoe was met hovering near the point. 
 A stillness and darkness, as complete as if the 
 silence of the forest had never been disturbed, or 
 the sun had never shone on that retired region, 
 now reigned on the point, and on the gloomy 
 water, the slumbering woods, and even the murky 
 sky. No more could be done, therefore, than to 
 seek a place of safety ; and this was only to be 
 found in the centre of the lake. Paddling, in si- 
 lence, to that spot, the canoe was suffered to drift 
 northerly, while the girls sought such repose as 
 their situation and feelings would permit. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 “Stand to your arms, and guard the door— all’s lost 
 Unless that fearful bell be silenced soon. 
 
 The officer hath missed his path, or purpose, 
 
 Or met some unforeseen and hideous obstacle. 
 Anselmo, with thy company proceed 
 Straight to the tower; the rest remain with me.” 
 
 Maeino Faiieeo. 
 
 The conjecture of Judith Hutter, concerning 
 the manner in which the Indian girl had met her 
 death, was accurate in the main. After sleeping 
 several hours, her father and March awoke. This 
 occurred a few minutes after she had left the ark 
 to go in quest of her sister, and when of course 
 Chingachgook and his betrothed were on board. 
 From the Delaware the old man learned the po- 
 sition of the camp and the recent events, as well 
 as the absence of his daughters. The latter gave 
 him no concern ; for he relied greatly on the sa- 
 gacity of the eldest, and the known impunity with 
 which the younger passed among the savages. 
 Long familiarity with danger, too, had blunted 
 
 his sensibilities. Nor did he seem much to regret 
 the captivity of Deerslayer ; for, while he knew 
 how material his aid might be in a defence, the 
 difference in their views on the morality of the 
 woods had not left much sympathy between them. 
 He would have rejoiced to know the position of 
 the camp before it had been alarmed by the es- 
 cape of Hist, but it would be too hazardous now 
 to venture to land; and he reluctantly relin- 
 quished for the night the ruthless designs that 
 captivity and revenge had excited him to enter- 
 tain. In this mood Hutter took a seat in the 
 head of the scow, where he was quickly joined by 
 Hurry; leaving the Serpent and Hist in quiet 
 possession of the other extremity of the vessel. 
 
 “ Deerslayer has shown himself a boy in going 
 among the savages at this hour, and letting him- 
 self fall into their hands like a deer that tumbles 
 into a pit,” growled the old man, perceiving as 
 usual the mote in his neighbor’s eyes, while he 
 overlooked the beam in his own. “ If he is left 
 to pay for his stupidity with his own flesh, he 
 can blame no one but himself.” 
 
 “ That’s the way of the world, Old Tom,” re- 
 turned Hurry. “ Every man must meet his own 
 debts, and answer for his own sins. I’m amazed, 
 however, that a lad as skilful and watchful as 
 Deerslayer, should have been caught in such a 
 trap ! Didn’t he know any better than to go 
 prowling about a Huron camp, at midnight, with 
 no place to retreat to but a lake ? or did he think 
 himself a buck, that by taking to the water could 
 throw off the scent and swim himself out of dif- 
 ficulty? I had a better opinion of the boy’s 
 judgment, I’ll own; but we must overlook a little 
 ignorance in a raw hand. I say, Master Hut- 
 ter, do you happen to know what has become of 
 the gals — I see no signs of Judith or Hetty, 
 though I’ve been through the ark, and looked in- 
 to all its living creatur’s ? ” 
 
 Hutter briefly explained the manner in which 
 his daughters had taken to the canoe, as it had 
 been related by the Delaware, as well as the re- 
 turn of Judith after landing her sister, and her 
 second departure. 
 
 “This comes of a smooth tongue, Floating 
 Tom,” exclaimed Hurry, grating his teeth in pure 
 resentment — “ this comes of a smooth tongue, 
 and a silly gal’s inclinations — and you had best 
 look into the matter ! You and I were both 
 prisoners ” — Hurry could recall that circumstance 
 now — “ you and I were both prisoners, and yet 
 Judith never stirred an inch to do us any sar- 
 vice ! She is bewitched with this lank-looking 
 Deerslayer ; and he, and she, and you, and all of 
 Us, had best look to it. I am not a man to put 
 
140 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 up witli such a wrong quietly, and do say, all the 
 parties had best look to it ! Let’s up kedge, old 
 fellow, and move nearer to this point, and see 
 how matters are getting on.” 
 
 Hutter had no objections to this movement, 
 and the ark was got under way, in the usual man- 
 ner, care being taken to make no noise. The 
 wind was passing northward, and the sail soon 
 swept the scow so far up the lake as to render 
 the dark outlines of the trees that clothed the 
 point dimly visible. Floating Tom steered, and 
 he sailed along as near the land as the depth of 
 the water and the overhanging branches would 
 allow. It was impossible to distinguish any thing 
 that stood within the shadows of the shore ; but 
 the forms of the sail and of the hut were dis- 
 cerned by the young sentinel on the beach, who 
 has been already mentioned. In the moment of 
 sudden surprise, a deep Indian exclamation es- 
 caped him. In the spirit of recklessness and fe- 
 rocity that formed the essence of Hurry’s charac- 
 ter, this man dropped his rifle and fired. The ball 
 was sped by accident, or by that overruling Provi- 
 dence which decides the fate of all, and the girl 
 fell. Then followed the scene with the torches, 
 which has just been described. 
 
 At the precise moment when Hurry committed 
 this act of unthinking cruelty, the canoe of Judith 
 was within a hundred feet of the spot from 
 which the ark had so lately moved. Her own 
 course has been described, and it has now be- 
 come our oflBce to follow that of her father and 
 his companions. The shriek announced the ef- 
 fects of the random shot of March, and it also 
 proclaimed that the victim was a woman. Hurry 
 himself was startled at these unlooked-for conse- 
 quences ; and, for a moment, he was sorely dis- 
 turbed by conflicting sensations. At first he 
 laughed, in reckless and rude-minded exultation ; 
 and then conscience, that monitor planted in our 
 breasts by God, and which receives its more gen- 
 eral growth from the training bestowed in the 
 tillage of childhood, shot a pang to his heart. 
 For a minute the mind of this creature, equally 
 of civilization and barbarism, was a sort of chaos 
 as to feeling, not knowing what to think of its 
 own act ; and then the obstinacy and pride of 
 one of his habits interposed to assert their usual 
 ascendency. He struck the butt of his rifle on 
 the bottom of the scow with a species of defiance, 
 and began to whistle a low air with an affectation 
 of indifference. All this time the ark was in mo- 
 tion, and it was already opening the bay above 
 the point, and was consequently quitting the 
 land. 
 
 Hurry’s companions did not view his conduct 
 
 with the same indulgence as that with which he 
 appeared disposed to regard it himself. Hutter 
 growled out his dissatisfaction, for the act led to 
 no advantage, while it threatened to render the 
 warfare more vindictive than ever ; and none 
 censure motiveless departures from the right more 
 severely than the mercenary and unprincipled. 
 Still he commanded himself, the captivity of Deer- 
 slayer rendering the arm of the offender of double 
 consequence to him at that moment. Chingach- 
 gook arose, and, for a single instant, the ancient 
 animosity of tribes was forgotten in a feeling of 
 color ; but he recollected himself in season to 
 prevent any of the fierce consequences that for a 
 passing moment he certainly meditated. Not so 
 with Hist. Rushing through the hut, or cabin, 
 the girl stood at the side of Hurry, almost as soon 
 as his rifle touched the bottom of the scow ; and, 
 with a fearlessness that did credit to her heart, 
 she poured out her reproaches with the generous 
 warmth of a woman. 
 
 “ What for you shoot ? ” she said. “ What 
 Huron gal do, dat you kill him ? What you t’ink 
 Manitou say? What you t’ink Manitou feel? 
 What Iroquois do? No get honor — no get camp 
 — no get prisoner — no get battle — no get scalp — 
 no get not’ing at all. Blood come after blood ! 
 How you feel your wife killed ? Who pity you 
 when tear come for moder or sister? You big 
 as great pine — Huron gal little slender birch — 
 why you fall on her and crush her ? You t’ink 
 Huron forget it ? No ; red-skin never forget. 
 Never forget friend ; never forget enemy. Red 
 man Manitou in dat. Why you so wicked, great 
 pale-face ? ” 
 
 Hurry had never been so daunted as by tins 
 close and warm attack of the Indian girl. It is 
 true that she had a powerful ally in his con- 
 science ; and while she spoke earnestly, it was in 
 tones so feminine as to deprive him of any pre- 
 text for unmanly anger. The softness of her 
 voice added to the weight of her remonstrance, 
 by lending to the latter an air of purity and 
 truth. Like most vulgar-minded men, he had 
 only regarded the Indians through the medium 
 of their coarser and fiercer characteristics. It 
 had never struck him that the affections are 
 human ; that even high principles — modified by 
 habits and prejudices, but not the less elevated 
 within their circle can exist in the savage 
 state ; and th&.t the warrior who is most ruthless 
 in the field, can submit to the softest and gen- 
 tlest influences in the moments of domestic 
 quiet. In a word, it was the habit of his mind 
 to regard all Indians as being only a slight de« 
 gree removed from the wild beasts that loamed 
 
NATURE IN THE MORNING TWILIGHT. 
 
 141 
 
 the woods, and to feel disposed to treat them ac- 
 cordingly, whenever interest or caprice supplied 
 a motive or an impulse. Still, though daunted 
 by these reproaches, the handsome barbarian 
 could hardly be said to be penitent. He was 
 too much rebuked by conscience to suffer an 
 outbreak of temper to escape him ; and perhaps 
 he felt that he had already committed an act 
 that might justly biing his manhood in ques- 
 tion. Instead of resenting, or answering the 
 simple but natural appeal of Hist, he walked 
 away like one who disdained entering into a con- 
 troversy with a woman. 
 
 In the mean while the ark swept onward, and, 
 by the time the scene with the torches was en- 
 acting beneath the trees, it had reached the open 
 lake ; Floating Tom causing it to sheer farther 
 from the land, with a sort of instinctive dread of 
 retaliation. An hour now passed in gloomy si- 
 lence, no one appearing disposed to- break it. 
 Hist had retired to her pallet, and Chingachgook 
 lay sleeping in the forward part of the scow. 
 Hutter and Hurry alone remained awake, the for- 
 mer at the steering-oar, while the latter brooded 
 over his own conduct with the stubbornness of 
 one little given to a confession of his errors and 
 the secret goadings of the worm that never dies. 
 This was at the moment when Judith and Hetty 
 reached the centre of the lake, and had lain down 
 to endeavor to sleep in their drifting canoe. 
 
 The night was calm, though so much obscured 
 by clouds. The season was not one of storms, 
 and those which did occur in the month of June 
 on that embedded water, though frequently vio- 
 lent, were always of short continuance. Never- 
 theless, there was the usual current of heavy, 
 damp night air, which, passing over the summits 
 of the trees, scarcely appeared to descend so low 
 as the surface of the glassy lake, but kept mov- 
 ing a short distance above it, saturated with the 
 humidity that constantly arose from the woods, 
 and apparently never proceeding far in any one 
 direction. The currents were influenced by the 
 formation of the hills, as a matter of course — a 
 circumstance that rendered even fresh breezes 
 baffling, and which reduced the feebler efforts of 
 the night air to be a sort of capricious and fickle 
 sighings of the woods. Several times the head 
 of the ark pointed east, and once it actually 
 turned toward the south again ; but, on the whole, 
 it worked its way north, Hutter making always a 
 fair wind, if wind it could be called, his principal 
 motive appearing to be a wish to keep in motion, 
 in order to defeat any treacherous design of his 
 enemies. He now felt some little concern about 
 his daughters, and perhaps as much about the 
 
 canoe; but, on the whole, this uncertainty did 
 not much disturb him, as he had the reliance al- 
 ready mentioned on the intelligence of Judith. 
 
 It was the season of the shortest nights, and 
 it was not long before the deep obscurity which 
 precedes the day began to yield to the returning 
 light. If any earthly scene could be presented to 
 the senses of man that might soothe his passions 
 and temper his ferocity, it was that which grew 
 upon the eyes of Hutter and Hurry as the hours 
 advanced, changing night to morning. There 
 were the usual sqft tints of the sky in which 
 neither the gloom of darkness nor the brilliancy 
 of the sun prevails, and under which objects ap- 
 pear more unearthly, and we might add, holy, 
 than at any other portion of the twenty-four 
 hours. The beautiful and soothing calm of even- 
 tide has been extolled by a thousand poets, and 
 yet it does not bring with it the far-reaching and 
 sublime thoughts of the half-hour that precedes 
 the rising of a summer’s sun. In the one case 
 the panorama is gradually hid from the sight> 
 while in the other its objects start out from the 
 unfolding picture, first dim and misty, then 
 marked in, in solemn background ; next seen in 
 the witchery of an increasing , a thing as different 
 as possible from the decreasing twilight, and final- 
 ly mellow, distinct, and luminous as the rays of 
 the great centre of light diffuse themselves in the 
 atmosphere. The hymns of birds, too, have no 
 novel counterpart in the retreat to the roost, or 
 the flight to the nest ; and these invariably ac- 
 company the advent of the day, until the appear- 
 ance of the sun itself 
 
 “ Bathes in deep joy the land and sea.” 
 
 All this, however, Hutter and Hurry witnessed 
 without experiencing any of that calm delight 
 which the spectacle is wont to bring when the 
 thoughts are just and the aspirations pure. They 
 not only witnessed it, but they witnessed it under 
 circumstances that had a tendency to increase its 
 power and to heighten its charms. Only one soli- 
 tary object became visible in the returning light, 
 that had received its form or uses from human 
 taste or human desires, which as often deform as 
 beautify a landscape. This was the castle; all 
 the rest being native, and fresh from the hand of 
 God. That singular residence, too, was in keep 
 ing with the natural objects of the view, starting 
 out from the gloom, quaint, picturesque, and or 
 namental. Nevertheless, the whole was lost 01 
 the observers, who knew no feeling of poetry, hai 
 lost their sense of natural devotion in lives of ob 
 durate and narrow selfishness, and had little othei 
 sympathy with Nature than that which originated 
 with her lowest wants. 
 
142 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 As soon as the light was sufficiently strong to 
 allow of a distinct view of the lake, and more par- 
 ticularly of its shores, Hutter turned the head 
 of the ark directly toward the castle, with the 
 avowed intention of taking possession for the day 
 at least, as the place most favorable for meeting 
 his daughters, and for carrying on his operations 
 against the Indians. By this time, Chingachgook 
 was up, and Hist was heard stirring among the 
 furniture of the kitchen. The place for which 
 they steered was distant only a mile, and the air 
 was sufficiently favorable to permit it to be neared 
 by means of the sail. At this moment, too, to 
 render the appearances generally auspicious, the 
 canoe of Judith was seen floating northward in 
 the broadest part of the lake ; having actually 
 passed the scow in the darkness, in obedience to 
 no other power than that of the elements. Hut- 
 ter got his glass, and took a long and anxious 
 survey to ascertain if his daughters were in the 
 light craft or not ; and a slight exclamation like 
 that of joy escaped him, as he caught a glimpse 
 of what he rightly conceived to be a part of Ju- 
 dith’s dress above the top of the canoe. At the 
 next instant, the girl arose, and was seen gazing 
 about her, like one assuring herself of her situa- 
 tion. A minute later, Hetty was seen on her 
 knees, in the other end of the canoe, repeating 
 the prayers that had been taught her, in child- 
 hood, by a misguided but repentant mother. A3 
 Hutter laid down the glass, still drawn to its focus, 
 the Serpent raised it to his eye and turned it tow- 
 ard the canoe. It was the first time he had ever 
 used such an instrument, and Hist understood by 
 his “ Hugh ! ” the expression of his face, and his 
 entire mien, that something wonderful had excited 
 his admiration. It is well known that the Amer- 
 ican Indians, more particularly those of superior 
 character and stations, singularly maintain their 
 self-possession and stoicism, in the midst of the 
 flood of marvels that present themselves in their 
 occasional visits to the abodes of civilization; 
 and Chingachgook had imbibed enough of this 
 impassibility to suppress any very undignified 
 manifestations of surprise. With Hist, however, 
 no such law was binding, and when her lover man- 
 aged to bring the glass in a line with the canoe, 
 and her eye was applied to the smaller end, the 
 girl started back in alarm ; then she clapped her 
 hands with delight, and a laugh, the usual attend- 
 ant of untutored admiration, followed. A few 
 minutes sufficed to enable this quick-witted girl 
 to manage the instrument for herself, and she di- 
 rected it at every prominent object that struck 
 her fancy. Finding a rest in one of the windows, 
 ehe and the Delaware first surveyed the lake, 
 
 then the shores, the hills, and finally the castle 
 attracted their attention. After a long, steady 
 gaze at the latter, Hist took away her eye, and 
 spoke to her lover in a low, earnest manner. 
 Chingachgook immediately placed his eye to the 
 glass, and his look even exceeded that of his be- 
 trothed in length and intensity. Again they 
 spoke together confidentially, appearing to com- 
 pare opinions, after which the glass was laid aside, 
 and the young warrior quitted the cabin to join 
 Hutter and Hurry. 
 
 The ark was slowly but steadily advancing, 
 and the castle was materially within half a mile, 
 when Chingachgook joined the two white men 
 in the stern of the scow. His manner was calm, 
 but it was evident to the others, who were famil- 
 iar with the habits of the Indians, that he had 
 something to communicate. Hurry was general- 
 ly prompt to speak, and, according to custom, he 
 took the lead on this occasion. 
 
 “ Out with it, red-skin,” he cried, in his usual 
 rough manner. “Have you discovered a chip- 
 munk in a tree, or is there a salmon-trout swim- 
 ming under the bottom of the scow? You find 
 what a pale-face can do in the way of eyes, now, 
 Sarpent, and musn’t wonder that they can see the 
 land of the Indians from afar off.” 
 
 “ No good to go to castle,” put in Chingach- 
 gook with emphasis, the moment the other gave 
 him an opportunity of speaking. “ Huron there.” 
 
 “ The devil he is ! — If this should turn out to 
 be true, Floating Tom, a pretty trap were we 
 about to pull down on our heads ! Huron there ! 
 — well, this may be so ; but no signs can I see 
 of any thing near or about the old hut but logs, 
 water, and bark — ’bating two or three window's 
 and one door.” 
 
 Hutter called for the glass and took a careful 
 survey of the spot before he ventured an opinion 
 at all ; then he somewhat cavalierly expressed his 
 dissent from that given by the Indian. 
 
 “ You’ve got this glass wrong end foremost, 
 Delaware,” continued Hurry; “neither the old 
 man nor I can see any trail in the lake.” 
 
 “No trail — water make no trail,” said Hist, 
 eagerly. “Stop boat — no go too near — Huron 
 there ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, that’s it ! Stick to the same tale and 
 more people will believe you. — I hope, Sarpent, 
 you and your gal will agree in telling the same 
 story arter marriage as w r ell as you do now. Hu- 
 ron there ! — whereabouts is he to be seen — in the 
 padlock, or the chains, or the logs ? There isn’t 
 a jail in the colony that has a more lock-up look 
 about it than old Tom’s cldcnte : and I kno’S’ 
 something about jails from exper’ence.” 
 
A TELL-TALE MOCCASIN 
 
 H3 
 
 “ No see moccasin ? ” said Hist, impatiently ; 
 * why no look and see him ? ” 
 
 “ Give me the glass, Harry,” interrupted Hut- 
 ter, “ and lower the sail. It is seldom that an 
 Indian woman meddles, and when she does there 
 is generally a cause for it. There is , truly, a 
 moccasin floating against one of the piles ; and it 
 may or may not be a sign that the castle hasn’t 
 escaped visitors in our absence. Moccasins are 
 no rarities, however, for I wear ’em myself, and 
 Deerslayer wears ’em, and you wear ’em, March ; 
 and for that matter, so does Hetty, quite as often 
 as she does shoes ; though I never yet saw Judith 
 trust her pretty foot in a moccasin.” 
 
 Hurry had lowered the sail, and by this time 
 the ark was within two hundred yards of the 
 castle, setting in nearer and nearer each moment, 
 but at a rate too slow to excite any uneasiness. 
 Each now took the glass in turn, and the castle 
 and every thing near it was subjected to a scrutiny 
 still more rigid than ever. There the moccasin 
 lay, beyond a question, floating so lightly and pre- 
 serving its form so well that it was scarcely wet. 
 It had caught by a piece of the rough bark of one 
 of the piles on the exterior of the water-palisade 
 that formed the dock already mentioned, which 
 circumstance alone prevented it from drifting 
 away before the air. There were many modes, 
 however, of accounting for the presence of the 
 moccasin without supposing it to have been 
 dropped by an enemy. It might have fallen from 
 the platform even while Hutter was in possession 
 of the place, and drifted to the spot where it was 
 now seen, remaining unnoticed until detected by 
 the acute vision of Hist. It might have drifted 
 from a distance, up or down the lake, and acci- 
 dentally become attached to the pile or palisade. 
 It might have been thrown from a window and 
 alighted in that particular place; or it might 
 certainly have fallen from a scout or an assailant 
 during the past night, who was obliged to abandon 
 it to the lake in the deep obscurity which then 
 prevailed. 
 
 All these conjectures passed from Hutter to 
 Hurry, the former appearing disposed to regard 
 the omen as a little sinister, while the latter treated 
 it with his usual reckless disdain. As for the In- 
 dian, he was of opinion that the moccasin should 
 be viewed as one would regard a trail in the 
 woods which might or might not equally prove to 
 be threatening. Hist, however, had something 
 available to propose. She declared her readiness 
 to take a canoe to proceed to the palisade and 
 bring away the moccasin, when its ornaments 
 would show whether it came from the Canadas or 
 not. Both the white men were disposed to ac- 
 10 
 
 cept this offer; but the Delaware interfered to 
 prevent the risk. If such a service was to be 
 undertaken, it best became a warrior to expose 
 himself in its execution ; and he gave his refusal 
 to let his betrothed proceed, much in the quiet 
 but brief manner in which an Indian husband 
 issues his commands. 
 
 “ Well, then, Delaware, go yourself if you’re 
 so tender of your squaw,” put in the unceremoni- 
 ous Hurry. “ That moccasin must be had, or 
 Floating Tom will keep off here at arm’s length 
 till the hearth cools in his cabin. It’s but a little 
 deer-skin arter all, and cut this-a-way or that-a- 
 way, it’s not a skear-crow to frighten true hunters 
 from their game. What say you, Sarpent, shall 
 you or I canoe it ? ” 
 
 “ Let red man go. Better eyes than pale-face 
 — know Huron trick better, too.” 
 
 “ That I’ll gainsay, to the hour of my death ! 
 A white man’s eyes, and a white man’s nose, and 
 for that matter his sight and ears, are all better 
 than an Injin’s, when fairly tried. Time and ag’in 
 have I put that to the proof, and what is proved 
 is sartin. Still I suppose the poorest vagabond 
 going, whether Delaware or Huron, can find his 
 way to yonder hut and back ag’in ; and so, Sar- 
 pent, use your paddle and welcome.” 
 
 Chingachgook was already in the canoe, and 
 he dipped the implement the other named, into 
 the water, just as Hurry’s limber tongue ceased. 
 Wah-ta!-Wah saw the departure of her warrior 
 on this occasion with the submissive silence of 
 an Indian girl, but with most of the misgivings 
 and apprehensions of her sex. Throughout the 
 whole of the past night, and down to the moment 
 when they used the glass together in the hut, 
 Chingachgook had manifested ay much manly 
 tenderness toward his betrothed as one of the 
 most refined sentiments could have shown under 
 similar circumstances ; but now every sign of 
 weakness was lost in an appearance of stern 
 resolution. Although Hist timidly endeavored to 
 catch his eye, as the canoe left the side of the ark 
 the pride of a warrior would not permit him to 
 meet her fond and anxious looks. The canoe de- 
 parted, and not a wandering glance rewarded her 
 solicitude. 
 
 Nor were the Delaware’s care and gravity mis- 
 placed, under the impressions with which he pro- 
 ceeded on this enterprise. If the enemy had really 
 gained possession of the building, he was obliged 
 to put himself under the very muzzles of their 
 rifles, as it were, and this too without the pro- 
 tection of any of that cover which forms so es- 
 sential an ally in Indian warfare. It is scarcely 
 possible to conceive of a service more dangerous 
 
144 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 and had the Serpent been fortified by the experi- 
 ence of ten more years, or had his friend the 
 Deerslayer been present, it never would have 
 been attempted; the advantages in no degree 
 compensating for the risk. But the pride of an 
 Indian chief was acted on by the rivalry of color ; 
 and it is not unlikely that the presence of the 
 very creature from whom his ideas of manhood 
 prevented his receiving a single glance, overflow- 
 ing as he was with the love she so well merited, 
 had no small influence on his determination. 
 
 Chingachgook paddled steadily toward the 
 palisades, keeping his eye on the different loops 
 of the building. Each instant he expected to see 
 the muzzle of a rifle protruded, or to hear its sharp 
 crack ; but be succeeded in reaching the piles in 
 safety. Here he was, in a measure, protected, 
 having the heads of the palisades between him 
 and the hut ; and the chances of any attempt on 
 his life, while thus covered, were greatly dimin- 
 ished. The canoe had reached the piles with its 
 head inclining northward, and at a short distance 
 from the moccasin. Instead of turning to pick 
 up the latter, the Delaware slowly made the cir- 
 cuit of the whole building, deliberately examining 
 every object that should betray the presence of 
 enemies, or the commission of violence. Not a 
 single sign could be discovered, however, to con- 
 firm the suspicions that had been awakened. The 
 stillness of desertion pervaded the building ; not 
 a fastening was displaced ; not a window had been 
 broken. The door looked as secure as at the 
 hour when it was closed by Hutter, and even the 
 gate of the dock had all the customary fastenings. 
 In short, the most wary and jealous eye could de- 
 tect no other evidence of the visit of enemies, 
 than that which was connected with the appear- 
 ance of the floating moccasin. 
 
 The Delaware was now greatly at a loss how 
 to proceed. At one moment, as he came i-ound 
 in front of the castle, he was on the point of 
 stepping upon the platform, and applying his eye 
 to one of the loops, with a view of taking a direct 
 personal inspection of the state of things within ; 
 but he hesitated. Though of little experience in 
 such matters, himself, he had heard so much of 
 Indian artifices through traditions, had listened 
 with such breathless interest to the narration of 
 the escapes of the elder warriors, and, in short, 
 was so well schooled in the theory of his calling, 
 that it was almost as impossible for him to make 
 &ny gross blunder on such an occasion, as it was 
 for a well-grounded scholar, who had commenced 
 correctly, to fail in solving his problem in mathe- 
 matics. Relinquishing the momentary intention 
 to land, the chief slowly pursued his course round 
 
 the palisades. As he approached the moccasin- 
 having now nearly completed the circuit of the 
 building — he threw the ominous article into the 
 canoe, by a dexterous and almost imperceptible 
 movement of his paddle. He was now ready to 
 depart; but retreat was even more dangerous 
 than the approach, as the eye could no longer be 
 riveted on the loops. If there was really any one 
 in the castle, the motive of the Delaware in re- 
 connoitring must be understood ; and it was the 
 wisest way, however perilous it might be, to re- 
 tire with an air of confidence, as if all distrust 
 were terminated by the examination. Such, ac- 
 cordingly, was the course adopted by the Indian^ 
 who paddled deliberately away, taking the direc- 
 tion of the ark, suffering no nervous impulse to 
 quicken the motions of his arms, or to induce him 
 to turn even a furtive glance behind him. 
 
 No tender wife, reared in the refinements of 
 the highest civilization, ever met a husband on 
 his return from the field, with more of sensibility 
 in her countenance, than Hist discovered, as she 
 saw the Great Serpent of the Delawares step, un- 
 harmed, into the ark. Still she repressed her 
 emotions, though the joy that sparkled in her 
 dark eyes, and the smile that lighted her pretty 
 mouth, spoke a language that her betrothed could 
 understand. 
 
 “ Well, Sarpent,” cried Hurry, always the 
 first to speak, “ what news from the Muskrats ? 
 Did they show their teeth, as you surrounded their 
 dwelling ? ” 
 
 “ I no like him ” — sententiously returned the 
 Delaware. “ Too still. So still, can see silence ! ” 
 
 “ That’s downright Injin — as if any thing 
 could make less noise than nothing ! If you’ve 
 no better reason than this to give, old Tom had 
 better hoist his sail, and go and get his breakfast 
 under his own roof. What has become of the 
 moccasin ? ” 
 
 “ Here,” returned Chingachgook, holding up 
 his prize for the general inspection. 
 
 The moccasin was examined, and Hist confi- 
 dently pronounced it to be Huron, by the manner 
 in which the porcupine’s quills were arranged on 
 its front. Hutter, and the Delaware, too, were 
 decidedly of the same opinion. Admitting all 
 this, however, it did not necessarily follow that 
 its owners were in the castle. The moccasin 
 might have drifted from a distance, or it might 
 have fallen from the foot of some scout, who had 
 quitted the place when his errand was accom- 
 plished. In short, it explained nothing, while it 
 awakened so much distrust. 
 
 Under the circumstances, Hutter and Hurry 
 were not men to be long deterred from proceed- 
 
INDIANS IN POSSESSION OF THE CASTLE. 
 
 145 
 
 mg, by proofs as slight as that of the moccasin. 
 They hoisted the sail again, and the ark was soon 
 in motion, heading toward the castle. The wind, 
 or air, continued light, and the movement was 
 sufficiently slow to allow of a deliberate survey 
 of the building as the scow approached. 
 
 The same death-like silence reigned, and it 
 was difficult to fancy that any thing possessing 
 animal life could be in or around the place. Un- 
 like the Serpent, whose imagination had acted 
 through his traditions until he was ready to per- 
 ceive an artificial in a natural stillness, the others 
 saw nothing to apprehend in a tranquillity that, 
 in truth, merely denoted the repose of inanimate 
 objects. The accessories of the scene, too, were 
 soothing and calm, rather than exciting. The day 
 had not yet advanced so far as to bring the sun 
 above the horizon, but the heavens, the atmos- 
 phere, and the woods and lake, were all seen un- 
 der that softened light which . immediately pre- 
 cedes his appearance, and which, perhaps, is the 
 most witching period of the four - and - twenty 
 hours. It is the moment when every thing is dis- 
 tinct, even the atmosphere seeming to possess a 
 liquid lucidity, the hues appearing gray and soft- 
 ened, with the outlines of objects diffused, and 
 the perspective just as moral truths, that are pre- 
 sented in their simplicity without the meretri- 
 cious aids of ornament or glitter. In a word, it is 
 the moment when the senses seem to recover their 
 powers in the simplest and most accurate forms, 
 like the mind emerging from the obscurity of 
 doubts into the tranquillity and peace of demon 
 stration. Most of the influence that such a scene 
 is apt to produce on those who are properly con- 
 stituted in a moral sense, was lost on Hutter and 
 Hurry ; but both the Delawares, though too much 
 accustomed to witness the loveliness of morn- 
 ing tide, to stop to analyze their feelings, were 
 equally sensible of the beauties of the hour, 
 though it was probably in a way unknown to 
 themselves. It disposed the young warrior to 
 peace ; and never had he felt less longings for the 
 glory of the combat than when he joined Hist in 
 the cabin, the instant the scow rubbed against 
 the side of the platform. From the indulgence 
 o t such gentle emotions, however, he was aroused 
 by a rude summons from Hurry, who called on 
 him to come forth and help to take in the sail 
 and to secure the ark. 
 
 Chingachgook obeyed ; and, by the time he 
 had reached the head of the scow, Hurry was on 
 the platform stamping his feet, like one glad to 
 touch what, by comparison, might be called terra 
 firma, and proclaiming his indifference to the 
 whole Huron tribe, in his customary noisy, dog- 
 
 matical manner. Hutter had hauled a canoe up 
 to the head of the scow, and %as already about 
 to undo the fastenings of the gate, in order to 
 enter within the dock. March had no other mo- 
 tive in landing than a senseless bravado, and, hav- 
 ing shaken the door in a manner to put its solid- 
 ity to the proof, he joined Hutter in the canoe, 
 and began to aid him in opening the gate. The 
 reader will remember that this mode of entrance 
 was rendered necessary by the manner in which 
 the owner of this singular residence habitually 
 secured it whenever it was left empty ; more par- 
 ticularly at moments when danger was appre- 
 hended. Hutter had placed a line in the Dela- 
 ware’s hand, on entering the canoe, intimating 
 that the other was to fasten the ark to the plat- 
 form and to lower the sail. Instead of following 
 these directions, however, Chingachgook left the 
 sail standing, and, throwing the bight of the rope 
 over the head of a pile, he permitted the ark to 
 drift round until it lay against the defences in a 
 position where it could be entered only by means 
 of a boat, or by passing along the summits of the 
 palisades ; the latter being an exploit that re- 
 quired some command of the feet, and which was 
 not to be attempted in the face of a resolute 
 enemy. 
 
 In consequence of this change in the position 
 of the scow, which was effected before Hutter had 
 succeeded in opening the gate of his dock, the 
 ark and the castle lay, as sailors would express it, 
 yard-arm and yard-arm, kept asunder some ten or 
 twelve feet by means of the piles. As the scow 
 pressed close against the latter, their tops formed 
 a species of breastwork that rose to the height 
 of a man’s head, covering in a certain degree the 
 parts of the scow that were not protected by the 
 cabin. The Delaware surveyed this arrangement 
 with great satisfaction, and, as the canoe of Hut- 
 ter passed through the gate into the dock, he 
 thought that he might defend his position against 
 any garrison in the castle, for a sufficient time, 
 could he but have had the helping arm of his 
 friend Deerslayer. As it was, he felt compara- 
 tively secure, and no longer suffered the keen ap- 
 prehensions he had lately experienced in behalf 
 of Hist. 
 
 A single shove sent the canoe from the gate 
 to the trap beneath the castle. Here Hutter 
 found all fast, neither padlock, nor chain, nor bar, 
 having been molested. The key was produced, 
 the locks removed, the chain loosened, and the 
 trap pushed upward. Harry now thrust his head 
 in at the opening; the arms followed, and the 
 colossal legs rose without any apparent effort. 
 At the next instant, his heavy foot was heard 
 
146 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 stamping in the passage above ; that which sepa- 
 rated the chambers of the father and daughters, 
 and into which the trap opened. He then gave a 
 shout of triumph. 
 
 “ Come on, old Tom,” the reckless woodsman 
 called out from within the building — “ here’s your 
 tenement, safe and sound ; ay, and as empty as 
 a nut that has passed half aii hour in the paws of 
 a squirrel ! The Delaware brags of being able to 
 see silence ; let him come here, and he may feel it 
 in the bargain.” 
 
 “ Any silence where you are, Hurry Harry,” 
 returned Hutter, thrusting his head in at the hole, 
 as he uttered the last word, which instantly 
 caused his voice to sound smothered to those 
 without — “ any silence where you are ought to 
 be both seen and felt, for it’s unlike any other si- 
 lence.” 
 
 “ Come, come — old fellow ; hoist yourself up, 
 and we’ll open door and windows and let in the 
 fresh air to brighten up matters. Few words, in 
 troublesome times, make men the best fri’nds. 
 Your darter Judith is what I call a misbehaving 
 young woman, and the hold of the whole family 
 on me is so much weakened by her late conduct, 
 that it wouldn’t take a speech as long as the ten 
 commandments to send me off to the river, leav- 
 ing you and your traps, your ark and your chil- 
 dren, your man-servants and your maid-servants, 
 your oxen and your asses, to fight this battle with 
 the Iroquois, by yourselves. Open that window, 
 Floating Tom, and I’ll blunder through and do 
 the same job to the front door.” 
 
 A moment of silence succeeded, and a noise 
 like that produced by the fall of a heavy body 
 followed. A deep execration from Hurry suc- 
 ceeded, and then the whole interior of the build- 
 ing seemed alive. The noises that now so sud- 
 denly, and we may add so unexpectedly even to 
 the Delaware, broke the stillness within, could 
 not be mistaken. They resembled those that 
 would be produced by a struggle between tigers 
 in a cage. Once or twice the Indian yell was 
 given, but it seemed smothered, and as if it pro- 
 ceeded from exhausted or compressed throats; 
 and, in a single instance, a deep and another 
 shockingly revolting execration came from the 
 throat of Hurry. It appeared as if bodies were 
 constantly thrown upon the floor with violence, 
 as often rising to renew the struggle. Chingach- 
 gook felt greatly at a loss what to do. He had 
 all the arms in the ark, Hutter and Hurry having 
 proceeded without their rifles ; but there was no 
 means of using them, or of passing them to the 
 bands of their owners. The combatants were 
 literally caged, rendering it almost as impossible, 
 
 under the circumstances, to get out as to get 
 into the building. Then there was Hist to em- 
 barrass his movements, and to cripple his efforts. 
 With a view to relieve himself from this disad- 
 vantage, he told the girl to take the remaining 
 canoe, and to join Hutter’s daughters, who were 
 incautiously but deliberately approaching, in or- 
 der to save herself and to warn the others of 
 their danger. But the girl positively and firmly 
 refused to comply. At that moment, no human 
 power, short of -an exercise of superior physical 
 force, could have induced her to quit the ark. 
 The exigency of the moment did not admit of 
 delay, and the Delaware, seeing no possibility of 
 serving his friends, cut the line,' and by a strong 
 shove forced the scow some twenty feet clear of 
 the piles. Here he took the sweeps and succeeded 
 in getting ' a short distance to windward, if any 
 direction could be thus termed in so light an air, 
 but neither the time, nor his skill at the oars, 
 allowed the distance to be great. When he 
 ceased rowing the ark might have been a hun- 
 dred yards from the platform, and half that dis- 
 tance to the southward of it, the sail being low- 
 ered. Judith and Hetty had now discovered that 
 something was wrong, and were stationary a 
 thousand feet farther north. 
 
 All this while the furious struggle continued 
 within the house. In scenes like these, events 
 thicken in less time than they can be related. 
 From the moment when the first fall was heard 
 within the building, to that when the Delaware 
 ceased his awkward attempts to row, it might 
 have been three or four minutes, but it had evi- 
 dently served to weaken the combatants. The 
 oaths and execrations of Hurry were no longer 
 heard, and even the struggles had lost some of 
 their force and fury ; nevertheless, they still con- 
 tinued with unabated perseverance. At this in- 
 stant the door flew open and the fight was trans- 
 ferred to the platform, the light, and the open 
 air. 
 
 A Huron had undone the fastenings of the 
 door, and three or four of his tribe rushed after 
 him upon the narrow space, as if glad to escape 
 from some terrible scene within. The body of 
 another followed, pitched headlong through the 
 door, with terrific violence. Then March ap- 
 peared, raging like a lion at bay, and for an in- 
 stant freed from his numerous enemies. Hutter 
 was already a captive and bound. There was now 
 a pause in the struggle, which resembled a lull in 
 a tempest. The necessity of breathing was com- 
 mon to all, and the combatants stood watching 
 each other, like mastiffs that have been driven 
 from their holds, and are waiting for a favcrabl® 
 
A DESPERATE STRUGGLE. 
 
 147 
 
 •pportunity of renewing them. We shall profit 
 by this pause, to relate the manner in which the 
 Indians had obtained possession of the castle; 
 and this the more willingly, because it may be 
 necessary to explain to the reader, why a conflict 
 which had been so close and fierce, should have 
 also been so comparatively bloodless. 
 
 Rivenoak and his companion, particularly the 
 latter, who had appeared to be a subordinate and 
 occupied solely with his raft, had made the clos- 
 est observations in their visits to the castle ; 
 even the boy had brought away minute and valu- 
 able information. By these means the Hurons 
 obtained a general idea of the manner in which 
 the place was constructed and secured, as well as 
 of details that enabled them to act intelligently 
 -n the dark. Notwithstanding the care that Hut- 
 ter had taken to drop the ark on the east side of 
 the building, when he was in the act of transfer- 
 ring the furniture from the former to the latter, 
 he had been watched in a way to render the pre- 
 caution useless. Scouts were on the lookout on 
 the eastern as well as on the western shore of the 
 lake, and the whole proceeding had been noted. 
 As soon as it was dark,, rafts like that already 
 described approached from both shores to re- 
 connoitre, and the ark had passed within fifty 
 feet of one of them, without its being discovered ; 
 the men it held, lying at their length on the logs, 
 so as to blend themselves and their slow-moving 
 machine with the water. When these two sets 
 of adventurers drew near the castle, they encoun- 
 tered each other, and after communicating their 
 respective observations, they unhesitatingly ap- 
 proached the building. As had been expected, it 
 was found empty. The rafts were immediately 
 sent for reenforcement to the shore, and two of 
 the savages remained to profit by their situation. 
 These men succeeded in getting on the roof, and, 
 by removing some of the bark, in entering what 
 might be termed the garret. Here they were 
 found by their companions. Hatchets now 
 opened a hole through the square logs of the up- 
 per floor, through which no less than eight of 
 the most athletic of the Indians dropped into the 
 room beneath. Here they were left, well sup- 
 plied with arms and provisions, either to stand a 
 siege, or to make a sortie, as the case might re- 
 quire. The night was passed in sleep, as is usual 
 with Indians in a state of inactivity. The return- 
 ing day brought them a view of the approach of 
 the ark, through the loops, the only manner in 
 which light and air were now admitted, the win- 
 dows being closed most effectually with plank, 
 rudely fashioned to fit. As soon as it was ascer- 
 tained that the two white men were about to 
 
 enter by the trap, the chief, who directed the 
 proceedings of the Hurons, took his measures 
 accordingly. He removed all the arm3 from his 
 own people, even to tfye knives, in distrust of 
 savage ferocity, when awakened by personal in- 
 juries, and he hid them where they could not be 
 found without a search. Ropes of bark were 
 then prepared, and, taking their stations in the 
 three different rooms, they all waited for the sig- 
 nal to fall upon their intended captives. A3 
 soon as the party had entered the building, men 
 without replaced the bark of the roof, removed 
 every sign of their visit with care, and then de- 
 parted for the shore. It was one of these who 
 had dropped his moccasin, which he had not been 
 able to find again, in the dark. Had the death 
 of the girl been known, it is probable nothing 
 could have saved the lives of Hurry and Hutter ; 
 but that event occurred after the ambush was 
 laid, and at a distance of several miles from the 
 encampment near the castle. Such were the 
 means that had been employed to produce the 
 state of things we shall continue to describe. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 “Now all is' done that man can do, 
 
 And all is done in vain I 
 My love I my native land, adieu, 
 
 For I must cross the main ; 
 
 My dear, 
 
 For I must cross the main.” 
 
 Scottish Ballad. 
 
 In the last chapter we left the combatants 
 breathing in their narrow lists. Accustomed to 
 the rude sports of wrestling and jumping, then so 
 common in America, more especially on the fron- 
 tiers, Hurry possessed an advantage, in addition 
 to his prodigious strength, that had rendered the 
 struggle less unequal than it might otherwise ap- 
 pear to be. This alone had enabled him to hold 
 out so long against so many enemies ; for the In- 
 dian is by no means remarkable for his skill or 
 force in athletic exercises. As yet, no one had 
 been seriously hurt, though several of the sav- 
 ages had received severe falls ; and he, in particu- 
 lar, who had been thrown bodily upon the plat- 
 form, might be said to be temporarily hors de 
 combat. Some of the rest were limping; and 
 March himself had not entirely escaped from 
 bruises, though want of breath was the principal 
 loss that both sides wished to repair. 
 
 Under circnmstances like those in which the 
 parties were placed, a truce, let it come from 
 what cause it might, could not well be of long 
 
148 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 continuance. The arena was too confined, and i 
 the distrust of treachery too great, to admit of 
 this. Contrary to what might be expected in his 
 situation, Hurry was the first to recommence hos- 
 tilities. Whether this proceeded from policy or 
 an idea that he might gain some advantage by 
 making a sudden and unexpected assault, or was 
 the fruit of irritation and his undying hatred of 
 an Indian, it is impossible to say. His onset was 
 furious, however, and at first it carried all before 
 it. He seized the nearest Huron by the waist, 
 raised him entirely from the platform, and hurled 
 him into the water as if he had been a child. In 
 half a minute two more were at his side, one of 
 whom received a grave injury by falling on the 
 friend who had just preceded him. But four 
 enemies remained, and in a hand-to-hand conflict, 
 in which no arms were used but those which Na- 
 ture had furnished, Hurry believed himself fully 
 able to cope with that number of red-skins. 
 
 “ Hurrah ! old Tom,” he shouted ; “ the ras- 
 cals are taking to the lake, and I’ll soon have ’em 
 all swimming ! ” As these words were uttered, a 
 violent kick in the face sent back the injured In- 
 dian, who had caught at the edge of the platform 
 and was endeavoring to raise himself to its level, 
 helplessly and hopelessly into the water. When 
 the affray was over, his dark body was seen, 
 through the limpid element of the Glimmerglass, 
 lying, with outstretched arms, extended on the 
 bottom of the shoal on which the castle stood, 
 clinging to the sands and weeds as if life were to 
 be retained by this frenzied grasp of death. A 
 blow, sent into the pit of another’s stomach, 
 doubled him up like a worm that had been 
 trodden on ; and but two able-bodied foes re- 
 mained to be dealt with. One of these, however, 
 was not only the largest and strongest of the Hu- 
 rons, but he was also the most experienced of the 
 warriors present, and that one whose sinews were 
 the best strung in fights and by marches on the 
 war-path. This man fully appreciated the gigan- 
 tic strength of his opponent, and had carefully 
 husbanded his own. He was also equipped in 
 the best manner for such a conflict, standing in 
 nothing but his breech-cloth, the model of a na- 
 ked and beautiful statue of agility and strength. 
 To grasp him required additional dexterity and 
 unusual force. Still Hurry did not hesitate ; but 
 the kick, that had actually destroyed one fellow- 
 creature, was no sooner given than he closed in 
 with this formidable antagonist, endeavoring to 
 force him into the water also. The struggle that 
 succeeded was truly frightful. So fierce did it 
 Immediately become, and so quick and change- 
 ful were the evolutions of the atbletae, that the I 
 
 i remaining savage had no chance for interfering 
 had he possessed the desire ; but wonder and 
 apprehension held him spellbound. He was an 
 inexperienced youth, and his blood curdled as he 
 witnessed the fell strife of human passions, ex- 
 hibited, too, in an unaccustomed form. 
 
 Hurry first attempted to throw his antago- 
 nist. With this view he seized him by the throat 
 and an arm, and tripped with the quickness and 
 force of an American borderer. The effect was 
 frustrated by the agile movements of the Huron, 
 who had clothes to grasp by, and whose feet 
 avoided the attempt with a nimbleness equal to 
 that with which it was made. Then followed a 
 sort of melee , if such a term can be applied, to a 
 struggle between two in which no efforts were 
 distinctly visible, the limbs and bodies of the 
 combatants assuming so many attitudes and con- 
 tortions as to defeat observation. This confused 
 but fierce rally lasted less than a minute, how- 
 ever, when Hurry, furious at having his strength 
 baffled by the agility and nakedness of his foe, 
 made a desperate effort, which sent the Huron 
 from him, hurling his body violently against the 
 logs of the hut. The concussion was so great as 
 momentarily to confuse the latter’s faculties. The 
 pain, too, extorted a deep groan — an unusual con 
 cession to agony to escape a red man in the heat 
 of battle. Still he rushed forward again to meet 
 his enemy, conscious that his safety rested on his- 
 resolution. Hurry now seized the other by the 
 waist, raised him bodily from the platform, and 
 fell with his own great weight on the form be- 
 neath. This additional shock so far stunned the 
 sufferer that his gigantic white opponent now had 
 him completely at his mercy. Passing his hands 
 round the throat of his victim, he compressed 
 them with the strength of a vice, fairly doubling 
 the head of the Huron over the edge of the plat- 
 form, until the chin was uppermost, with the in- 
 fernal strength he expended. An instant sufficed 
 to show the consequences. The eyes of the suf- 
 ferer seemed to start forward, his tongue pro- 
 truded, and his nostrils dilated nearly to split- 
 ting. At this instant a rope of bark, having an 
 eye, was passed dexterously within the two arms of 
 Hurry ; the end threaded the eye, forming a noose, 
 and his elbows were drawn together behind his 
 back with a power that all his gigantic strength 
 could not resist. Reluctantly, even under such 
 circumstances, did the exasperated borderer see 
 his hands drawn from their deadly grasp, for all 
 the evil passions were then in the ascendant 
 Almost at the same instant a similar fastening 
 secured his ankles, and his body was rolled to 
 I the centre of the platform as helplessly and as 
 
HURRY’S DEFEAT. 
 
 149 
 
 cavalierly as if it were a log of wood. His res- 
 cued antagonist, however, did not rise, for, while 
 he began again to breathe, his head still hung 
 helplessly over the edge of the logs, and it was 
 thought at first that his neck was dislocated. He 
 recovered gradually only, and it was hours before 
 he could walk. Some fancied that neither his 
 body nor his mind ever totally recovered from 
 this near approach to death. 
 
 Hurry owed his defeat and capture to the in- 
 tensity with which he had concentrated all his 
 powers on his fallen foe. While thus occupied, 
 the two Indians he had hurled into the water 
 mounted to the heads of the piles, along which 
 they passed and joined their companion on the 
 platform. The latter had so far rallied his facul- 
 ties as to have got the ropes, which were in readi- 
 ness for use as the others appeared, and they 
 were applied in the manner related as Hurry lay 
 pressing his enemy down with his whole weight, 
 intent only on the horrible office of strangling 
 him. Thus were the tables turned in a single 
 moment ; he, who had been so near achieving a 
 victory that would have been renowned for ages, 
 by means of tradition, throughout all that region, 
 lying helpless, bound, and a captive. So fearful 
 had been the efforts of the pale-face, and so pro- 
 digious the strength he exhibited, that even as he 
 lay, tethered like a sheep before them, they re- 
 garded him with respect and not without dread. 
 The helpless body of their stoutest warrior was 
 still stretched on the platform ; and, as they cast 
 their eyes toward the lake, in quest of the com- 
 rade that had been hurled into it so unceremoni- 
 ously, and of whom they had lost sight in the 
 confusion of the fray, they perceived his lifeless 
 form clinging to the grass on the bottom, as al- 
 ready described. These several circumstances 
 contributed to render the victory of the Hurons 
 almost as astounding to themselves as a defeat. 
 
 Chingachgook and his betrothed witnessed the 
 whole of this struggle from the ark. When the 
 three Hurons were about to pass the cords around 
 the arms of the prostrate Hurry, the Delaware 
 sought his rifle ; but, before he could use it, the 
 white man was bound, and the mischief was done. 
 He might still bring down an enemy, but to ob- 
 tain the scalp was impossible ; and the young 
 chief, who would so freely risk his own life to ob- 
 tain such a trophy, hesitated about taking that 
 of a foe, without such an object in view. A 
 glance at Hist, and the recollection of what might 
 follow, checked any transient wish for revenge. 
 The reader has been told that Chingachgook 
 could scarcely be said to know how to manage 
 the oars of the ark at all, however expert he 
 
 might be in the use of the paddle. Perhaps 
 there is no manual labor at which men are so 
 bungling and awkward, as in their first attempts 
 to pull an oar, even the experienced mariner, or 
 boatman, breaking down in his efforts to figure 
 with the celebrated rullock of the gondolier. In 
 short, it is temporarily an impracticable thing for 
 a new beginner to succeed with a single oar ; but, 
 in this case, it was necessary to handle two at 
 the same time, and those of great size. Sweeps, 
 or large oars, however, are sooner rendered of 
 use by the raw hand than lighter implements, and 
 this was the reason that the Delaware had suc- 
 ceeded in moving the ark as well as he did, in a 
 first trial. That trial, notwithstanding, sufficed 
 to produce distrust, and he was fully aware of 
 the critical situation in which Hist and himself 
 were now placed, should the Hurons take to the 
 canoe that was still lying beneath the trap, and 
 come against them. At one moment he thought 
 of putting Hist into the canoe in his own posses- 
 sion, and of taking to the eastern mountain, in 
 the hope of reaching the Delaware villages by di- 
 rect flight. But many considerations suggested 
 themselves to put a stop to this indiscreet step. 
 It was almost certain that scouts watched the 
 lake on both sides, and no canoe could possibly 
 approach the shore without being seen from the 
 hills. Then a trail could not be concealed from 
 Indian eyes, and the strength of Hist was un- 
 equal to a flight sufficiently sustained to outstrip 
 the pursuit of trained warriors. This was a part 
 of America in which the Indians did not know 
 the use of horses, and every thing would depend 
 on the physical energies of the fugitives. Last, 
 but far from being least, were the thoughts con- 
 nected with the situation of Deerslayer, a friend 
 who was not to be deserted in his extremity. 
 
 Hist, in some particulars, reasoned, and even 
 felt, differently, though she arrived at the same 
 conclusions. Her own danger disturbed her less 
 than her concern for the two sisters, in whose be- 
 half her womanly sympathies were now strongly 
 enlisted. The canoe of the girls, by the time the 
 struggle on the platform had ceased, was within 
 three hundred yards of the castle, and here Ju- 
 dith ceased paddling, the evidences of strife first 
 becoming apparent to the eyes. She and Hetty 
 were standing erect, anxiously endeavoring to as- 
 certain what had occurred, but unable to satisfy 
 their doubts, from the circumstance that the 
 building, in a great measure, concealed the scene 
 of action. 
 
 The parties in the ark and in the canoe were 
 : indebted to the ferocity of Hurry’s attack, for 
 i their momentary security. In any ordinary case, 
 
150 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 the girls would have been immediately captured ; 
 a measure easy of execution, now the savages 
 hai a canoe, were it not for the rude check the 
 audacity of the Hurons had received in the re- 
 cent struggle. It required some little time to re- 
 cover from the effects of this violent scene ; and 
 this so much the more, because the principal man 
 of the party, in the way of personal prowess, at 
 least, had been so great a sufferer. Still it was 
 of the last importance that Judith and her sister 
 should seek immediate refuge in the ark, where 
 the defences offered a temporary shelter at least ; 
 and the first step was to devise the means of in- 
 ducing them to do so. Hist showed herself in the 
 stern of the scow, and made many gestures and 
 signs, in vain, in order to induce the girls to make 
 a circuit to avoid the castle, and to approach the 
 ark from the eastward. But these signs were 
 distrusted or misunderstood. It was probable 
 Judith was not yet sufficiently aware of the real 
 state of things, to put full confidence in either 
 party. Instead of doing as desired, she rather 
 kept more aloof ; paddling slowly back to the 
 north, or into the broadest part of the lake, 
 where she could command the widest view, and 
 had the fairest field for flight before her. At 
 this instant the sun appeared above the pines of 
 the eastern range of mountains, and a light, 
 southerly breeze arose, as was usual enough at 
 that season and hour. 
 
 Chingachgook lost no time in hoisting the 
 sail. Whatever might be in reserve for him, 
 there could be no question that it was every way 
 desirable to get the ark at such a distance from 
 the castle as to reduce his enemies to the neces- 
 sity of approaching the former in the canoe, 
 which the chances of war had so inopportunely, 
 for his wishes and security, thrown into their 
 hands. The appearance of the opening duck 
 seemed first to arouse the Hurons from their 
 apathy ; and, by the time the head of the scow 
 had fallen off before the wind, which it did, un- 
 fortunately, in the wrong direction, bringing it 
 within a few yards of the platform, Hist found it 
 necessary to warn her lover of the importance of 
 covering his person against the rifles of his foes. 
 This was a danger to be avoided under all circum- 
 stances, and so much the more, because the Dela- 
 ware found that Hist would not take to the cover 
 herself, so long as he remained exposed. Ac- 
 cordingly, Chingachgook abandoned the scow to 
 ts own movements, forced Hist into the cabin, 
 die doors of which he immediately secured, and 
 then he looked about him for the rifles. 
 
 The situation of the parties was now so sin- 
 gular as to merit a particular description. The 
 
 ark was within sixty yards of the castle, a little 
 to the southward, or to windward of it, with its 
 sail full, and the steering-oar abandoned. The 
 latter, fortunately, was loose, so that it produced 
 no great influence on the crab-like movements of 
 the unwieldy craft. The sail being set, as sailors 
 term it, flying, or having no braces, the air forced 
 the yard forward, though both sheets were fast. 
 The effect was threefold on a boat with a bottom 
 that was, perfectly flat, and which drew merely 
 some three or four inches of water. It pressed 
 the head slowly round to leeward, it forced the 
 whole fabric bodily in the same direction at the 
 same time, and the water that unavoidably gath- 
 ered under the lee gave the scow also a forward 
 movement. All these changes were exceedingly 
 slow, however, for the wind was not only light, 
 but it was baffling, as usual, and twice or thrice 
 the sail shook. Once it was absolutely taken 
 aback. 
 
 Had there been any keel to the ark, it would 
 inevitably have run foal of the platform, bows 
 on, when it is probable nothing could have pre- 
 vented the Hurons from carrying it ; more par- 
 ticularly as the sail would have enabled them to 
 approach under cover. As it was, the scow wore 
 slowly round, barely clearing that part of the 
 building. The piles projecting several feet, they 
 were not cleared, but the head of the slow-mov- 
 ing craft caught between two of them by one of 
 its square corners, and hung. At this moment, 
 the Delaware was vigilantly watching through a 
 loop for an opportunity to fire, while the Hurons 
 kept within the building, similarly occupied. 
 The exhausted warrior reclined against the hut, 
 there having been no time to remove him, and 
 Hurry lay, almost as helpless as a log, tethered 
 like a sheep on its way to the slaughter, near the 
 middle of the platform. Chingachgook could 
 have slain the first at any moment, but his scalp 
 would have been safe, and the young chief dis- 
 dained to strike a blow that could lead to neither 
 honor nor advantage. 
 
 “ Run out one of the poles, Sarpent, if Sarpent 
 you be,” said Hurry, amid the groans that the 
 tightness of the ligatures was beginning to extort 
 from him- — “ run out one of the poles, and shove 
 the head of the scow off, and you’ll drift clear of 
 us — and, when you’ve done that good turn for 
 yourself ’ just finish this gagging blackguard for 
 me.” 
 
 The appeal of Hurry, however, had no other 
 effect than to draw the attention of Hist to his 
 situation. This quick-witted creature compre 
 hended it at a glance. His ankles were bound 
 with several turns of stout bark rope, and his 
 
CHINGACHGOOK’S MOVEMENTS. 
 
 151 
 
 arms, above the elbows, were similarly secured 
 behind his back, barely leaving him a little play 
 of the hands and wrists. Putting her mouth 
 near a loop, she said, in a low but distinct voice : 
 
 “ Why don’t you roll here, and fall in scow ? 
 Chingachgook shoot Huron if he chase ! ” 
 
 *‘By the Lord* gal, that’s a judgmatical 
 thought, and it shall be tried, if the starn of your 
 scow will come a little nearer. Put a bed at the 
 bottom for me to fall on.” 
 
 This was said at a happy moment, for, tired 
 of waiting, all the Indians made a rapid discharge 
 of their rifles, almost simultaneously, injuring no 
 one, though several bullets passed through the 
 loops. Hist had heard part of Hurry’s words, 
 but most of what he said was lost in the sharp 
 report of the fire-arms. She undid the bar of 
 the door that led to the stern of the scow, but 
 did not dare to expose her person. All this time 
 the head of the ark hung, but by a gradually de- 
 creasing hold, as the other end swung slowly round, 
 nearer and nearer to the platform. Hurry, who 
 now lay with his face toward the ark, occasionally 
 writhing- and turning over like one in pain, evolu- 
 tions he had performed ever since he was secured, 
 watched every change, and, at last, he saw that 
 the whole vessel was free, and was beginning to 
 grate slowly along the sides of the piles. The 
 attempt was desperate, but it seemed the only 
 chance for escaping torture and death, and it 
 suited the reckless daring of the man’s character. 
 Waiting to the last moment, in order that the 
 stern of the scow might fairly rub against the 
 platform, he began to writhe again, as if in in- 
 tolerable suffering, execrating all Indians in gen- 
 eral, and Hurons in particular, and then he sud- 
 denly and rapidly rolled over and over, taking the 
 direction of the stern of the scow. Unfortunately, 
 Hurry’s shoulders required more space to revolve 
 in than his feet, and, by the time he reached the 
 edge of the platform, his direction had so far 
 changed as to carry him clear ofthe ark altogether ; 
 and the rapidity of his revolutions, and the emer- 
 gency, admitting of no delay, he fell into the water. 
 At this instant, Chingachgook, by an understand- 
 ing with his betrothed, drew the fire of the Hurons 
 again, not a man of whom saw the manner in 
 which one, whom they knew to be effectually 
 tethered, had disappeared. But Hist’s feelings 
 were strongly interested in the success of so bold 
 a scheme, and she watched the movements of 
 Hurry as the cat watches the mouse. The mo- 
 ment he was in motion she foresaw the con- 
 sequences, and this the more readily, as the scow 
 was now beginning to move with some steadiness, 
 and she bethought her of the means of saving him. 
 
 With a sort of instinctive readiness, she opened 
 the door at the very moment the rifles were ring- 
 ing in her ears, and, protected by the intervening 
 cabin, she stepped into the stern Of the scow in 
 time to witness the fall of Hurry into the lake. 
 Her foot was unconsciously placed on the end of 
 one of the sheets of the sail, which was fastened 
 aft, and catching up all the spare rope, with the 
 awkwardness, but also with the generous resolu- 
 tion, of a woman, she threw it in the direction 
 of the helpless Hurry. The line fell on the head 
 and body of the sinking man, and he not only 
 succeeded in grasping separate parts of it with 
 his hands, but he actually got a portion of it be- 
 tween his teeth. Hurry was an expert swimmer, 
 and, tethered as he was, he resorted to the very 
 expedient that philosophy and reflection would 
 have suggested. He had fallen on his back, and, 
 instead of floundering and drowning himself by 
 desperate efforts to walk on the water, he per- 
 mitted his body to sink as low as possible, and 
 was already submerged, with the exception of 
 his face, when the line reached him. In this 
 situation he might possibly have remained until 
 rescued by the Hurons, using his hands as fishes 
 use their fins, had he received no other succor ; 
 but the movement of the ark soon tightened the 
 rope, and of course he was dragged gently ahead, 
 holding even pace with the scow. The motion 
 aided in keeping his face above the surface of the 
 water, and it would have been possible for one 
 accustomed to endurance to have been towed a 
 mile in this singular but simple manner. 
 
 It has been said that the Hurons did not ob- 
 serve the sudden disappearance of Hurry. In his 
 present situation he was not only hid from view 
 by the platform, but as the ark drew slowly ahead, 
 impelled by a sail that was now filled, he received 
 the same friendly service from the piles. The 
 Hurons, indeed, were too intent on endeavoring 
 to slay their Delaware ioe, by sending a bullet 
 through some one of the loops or crevices of the 
 cabin, to bethink them at all of one whom they 
 fancied so thoroughly tied. Their great concern 
 was, the manner in which the ark rubbed past 
 the piles, although its motion was lessened at 
 least one half by the friction, and they passed into 
 the northern end of the castle, in order to catch 
 opportunities of firing through the loops of that 
 part of the building. Chingachgook was similarly 
 occupied, and remained as ignorant as his enemies 
 of the situation of Hurry. As the ark grated 
 along, the rifles sent their little clouds of smoke 
 from one cover to the other, but the eyes and 
 movements of the opposing parties were too quick 
 to permit any injury to be done. At length one 
 
152 
 
 THE DEERSLATER. 
 
 Bide had the mortification, and the -5ther the pleas- 
 ure, of seeing the scow swing clear of the piles 
 altogether, when it immediately moved away, 
 with a materially accelerated motion, toward the 
 north. 
 
 Chingachgook now first learned from Hist, the 
 critical condition of Hurry. To have exposed 
 either of their persons in the stern of the scow 
 would have been certain death ; but, fortunately, 
 the sheet to which the man clung, led forward to 
 the foot of the sail. The Delaware found means 
 to unloosen it from the cleet aft ; and Hist, who was 
 already forward for that purpose, immediately be- 
 gan to pull upon the line. At this moment Hurry 
 was towing fifty or sixty feet astern, with nothing 
 but his face above water. As he was dragged 
 out clear of the castle and the piles, he was first 
 perceived by the Hurons, who raised a hideous 
 yell, and commenced a fire on what may very 
 well be termed the floating mass. It was at the 
 same instant that Hist began to pull upon the 
 line forward — a circumstance that probably saved 
 Hurry’s life, aided by his own self-possession and 
 border readiness. The first bullet struck the 
 water directly on the spot where the broad chest 
 of the young giant was visible through the pure 
 element, and might have pierced his heart had 
 the angle at which it was fired been less acute. 
 Instead of penetrating the lake, however, it glanced 
 from its smooth surface, rose, and actually buried 
 itself in the logs of the cabin, near the spot at 
 which Chingachgook had shown himself the min- 
 ute before, while clearing the line from the cleet. 
 A second, and a third, and a fourth bullet fol- 
 lowed, all meeting with the same resistance from 
 the surface of the water ; though Hurry sensibly 
 felt the violence of the blows they struck upon 
 the lake so immediately above, and so near his 
 breast. Discovering their mistake, the Hurons 
 now changed their plan, and aimed at the un- 
 covered face; but, by this time, Hist was pulling 
 on the line, the target advanced, and the deadly 
 missiles still fell upon the water. In another 
 moment the body was dragged past the end of 
 the scow, and became concealed. As for the 
 Delaware and Hist, they worked perfectly covered 
 by the cabin, and in less time than it requires to 
 tell it they had hauled the huge frame of Hurry 
 to the place they occupied. Chingachgook stood 
 in readiness with his keen knife, and, bending over 
 the side of the scow, he soon severed the bark that 
 bound the limbs of the borderer. To raise him 
 high enough to reach the edge oi the boat, and to 
 aid him in entering, were less easy tasks, as 
 Hurry’s arms were still nearly useless ; but both 
 were done in time, when the liberated man stag- 
 
 gered forward, and fell, exhausted and helpless 
 into the bottom of the scow. Here we shall leave 
 him to recover his strength and the due circula- 
 tion of his blood, while we proceed with the nar- 
 rative of events that crowd upon us too fast to 
 admit of any postponement. 
 
 The moment the Hurons lost sight of the body 
 of Hurry, they gave a common yell of disappoint- 
 ment, and three of the most active of their number 
 ran to the trap and entered the canoe. It re- 
 quired some little delay, however, to embark with 
 their weapons, to find tbe paddles, and, if we may 
 use a phrase so purely technical, “ to get out of 
 dock.” By this time Hurry was in the scow, 
 and the Delaware had his rifles again in readiness. 
 As the ark necessarily sailed before the wind, it 
 had got by this time quite two hundred yards 
 from the castle, and was sliding away each instant 
 farther and farther, though with a motion so easy 
 as scarcely to stir the water. The canoe of the 
 girls was quite a quarter of a mile distant from 
 the ark, obviously keeping aloof, in ignorance of 
 what had occurred, and in apprehension of the 
 consequences of venturing too near. They had 
 taken the direction of the eastern shore, endeavor- 
 ing at the same time to get to windward of the 
 ark, and in a manner between the two parties, as 
 if distrusting which was to be considered a friend, 
 and which an enemy. The girls, from long habit, 
 used the paddles with great dexterity ; and Ju- 
 dith, in particular, had often sportively gained 
 races, in trials of speed, with the youths that oc- 
 casionally visited the lake. 
 
 When the three Hurons emerged from behind 
 the palisades, and found themselves on the open 
 lake, and under the necessity of advancing un- 
 protected on the ark, if they persevered in the 
 original design, their ardor sensibly cooled. In a 
 bark canoe, they were totally without cover, and 
 Indian discretion was entirely opposed to such a 
 sacrifice of life as would most probably follow 
 any attempt to assault an enemy intrenched as 
 effectually as the Delaware. Instead of following 
 the ark, therefore, these three warriors inclined 
 toward the eastern shore, keeping at a safe dis- 
 tance from the rifles of Chingachgook. But this 
 manoeuvre rendered the position of the girls ex- 
 ceedingly critical. It threatened to place them, 
 if not between two fires, at least between two dan- 
 gers, or what they conceived to be dangers ; and, 
 instead of permitting the Hurons to enclose her, 
 in what she fancied a sort of net, Judith imme- 
 diately commenced her retreat,' in a southern di- 
 rection, at no very great distance from the shore. 
 She did not dare to land ; if such an expedient 
 were to be resorted to at all, she could only ven- 
 
A STERN CHASE. 
 
 153 
 
 ture on it in the last extremity. At first the In- 
 dians paid little or no attention to the other canoe ; 
 for, fully apprised of its contents, they deemed 
 its capture of comparatively little moment ; while 
 the ark, with its imaginary treasures, the persons 
 of the Delaware and of Hurry, and its means of 
 movement on a large scale, was before them. 
 But this ark had its dangers as well as its tempta- 
 tions ; and after wasting near an hour in vacillat- 
 ing evolutions, always at a safe distance from the 
 rifle, the Hurons seemed suddenly to take their 
 resolution, and began to display it by giving eager 
 chase to the girls. 
 
 When this last design was adopted, the cir- 
 cumstances of all parties, as connected with their 
 relative positions, were materially changed. The 
 ark had sailed and drifted quite half a mile, and 
 was nearly that distance due north of the castle. 
 As soon as the Delaware perceived that the girls 
 avoided him, unable to manage his unwieldy craft, 
 and knowing that flight from a bark canoe, in the 
 event of pursuit, would be a useless expedient if 
 attempted, he had lowered his sail, in the hope it 
 might induce the sisters to change their plan, and 
 to seek refuge in the scow. Thi3 demonstration 
 produced no other eifect than to keep the ark 
 nearer to the scene of action, and to enable those 
 in her to become witnesses of the chase. The 
 canoe of Judith was about a quarter of a mile 
 south of that of the Hurons, a little nearer to the 
 east shore, and about the same distance to the 
 southward of the castle as it was from the hostile 
 canoe, a circumstance which necessai’ily put the 
 last nearly abreast of Hutter’s fortress. With the 
 several parties thus situated, the chase commenced. 
 
 At the moment when the Hurons so suddenly 
 changed their mode of attack, their canoe was 
 not in the best possible racing-trim. There were 
 but two paddles, and the third man was so much 
 extra and useless cargo. Then the difference in 
 weight between the sisters and the other two men, 
 more especially in vessels so extremely light, al- 
 most neutralized any difference that might pro- 
 ceed from the greater strength of the Hurons, 
 and rendered the trial of speed far from being as 
 unequal as it might seem. Judith did not com- 
 mence her exertions until the near approach of 
 the other canoe rendered the object of the move- 
 ment certain, and then she excited Hetty to aid 
 her with her utmost skill and strength. 
 
 “Why should we run, Judith?” asked the 
 simple-minded girl; “the Hurons have never 
 harmed me , nor do I think they ever will.” 
 
 “ That may be true as to you, Hetty, but it 
 will prove very different with me. Kneel down 
 and say your prayer, and then rise and do your 
 
 utmost to help escape. Think of me, dear girl, 
 too, as you pray.” 
 
 Judith gave these directions from a mixed 
 feeling : first, because she knew that her sister 
 ever sought the support of her Great Ally in 
 trouble ; and next, because a sensation of feeble- 
 ness and dependence suddenly came over her 
 own proud spirit in that moment of apparent de- 
 sertion and trial. The prayer was quickly said, 
 however, and the canoe was soon in rapid mo- 
 tion. Still, neither party resorted to their great- 
 est exertions from the outset, both knowing that 
 the chase was likely to be arduous and long 
 Like two vessels-of-war that are preparing for an 
 encounter, they seemed desirous of first ascertain, 
 ing their respective rates of speed, in order that 
 they might know how to graduate their exertions 
 previously to the great effort. A few minutes 
 sufficed to show the Hurons that the girls were 
 expert, and that it would require all their skill 
 and energies to overtake them. 
 
 Judith had inclined toward the eastern shore 
 at the commencement of the chase, with a vague 
 determination of landing and flying to the woods 
 as a last resort ; but, as she approached the land, 
 the certainty that scouts must be watching her 
 movements, made her reluctance to adopt such an 
 expedient unconquerable. Then she was still 
 fresh, and had sanguine hopes of being able to 
 tire out her pursuers. With such feelings, she 
 gave a sweep with her paddle, and sheered off 
 from the fringe of dark hemlocks, beneath the 
 shades of which she was so near entering, and 
 held her way again more toward the centre of the 
 lake. This seemed the instant favorable for the 
 Hurons to make their push, as it gave them the 
 entire breadth of the sheet to do it in ; and this, 
 too, in the widest part, as soon as they had got 
 between the fugitives and the land. The canoes 
 now flew ; Judith making up for what she wanted 
 in strength by her great dexterity and self-com- 
 mand. For half a mile the Indians gained no ma- 
 terial advantage, but the continuance of so great 
 exertions for so many minutes sensibly affected 
 all concerned. Here the Indians resorted to an ex- 
 pedient that enabled them to give one of their 
 party time to breathe, by shifting their paddles 
 from hand to hand, and this, too, without sensibly 
 relaxing their efforts. Judith occasionally looked 
 behind her, and she saw this expedient practised. 
 It caused her immediately to distrust the result, 
 since her powers of endurance were not likely to 
 hold out against those of men who had the means 
 of relieving each other ; still she persevered, al- 
 lowing no very visible consequences immediately 
 to follow the change. 
 
154 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 As yet, the Indians had not been able to get 
 nearer to the girls than two hundred yards, 
 though they were what seamen would term “ in 
 their wake;” or in a direct line behind, them, 
 passing over the same track of water. This 
 made the pursuit what is technically called a 
 “ stern chase,” which is proverbially a “ long 
 chase ; ” the meaning of which is, that, in conse- 
 quence of the relative positions of the parties, no 
 change becomes apparent, except that which is a 
 direct gain in the nearest possible approach. 
 “Long” as this species, of chase is admitted to 
 be, however, Judith was enabled to perceive that 
 the Hurons were sensibly drawing nearer and 
 nearer before she had gained the centre of the 
 lake. She was not a girl to despair ; but there 
 was an instant when she thought of yielding, with 
 the wish of being carried to the camp where she 
 knew the Deerslayer to be a captive; but the 
 considerations connected with the means she 
 hoped to be able to employ, so as to procure 
 his release, immediately interposed, in order to 
 stimulate her to renewed exertions. Had there 
 been any one there to note the progress of the 
 two canoes, he would have seen that of Judith 
 flying swiftly away from its pursuers, as the girl 
 gave it freshly-impelled speed, while her mind was 
 thus dwelling on her own ardent and generous 
 schemes. So material, indeed, was the difference 
 jn the rate of going between the two canoes, for 
 the next five minutes, that the Hurons began to 
 he convinced all their powers must be exerted, or 
 they would suffer the disgrace of being baffled by 
 women. Making a furious effort, under the mor- 
 tification of such a conviction, one of the stronger 
 of their party broke his paddle at the very mo- 
 ment when he had taken, it from the hand of a 
 comrade to relieve him. This, at once decided 
 the matter ; a canoe containing three men, and 
 having but one paddle, being utterly unable to 
 overtake fugitives like the daughters of Thomas 
 flutter. 
 
 “ There, Judith ! ” exclaimed Hetty, who saw 
 the accident— “ I hope, now, you will own that 
 praying is useful ! The Hurons have broke a 
 paddle, and they never can overtake us.” 
 
 “ I never denied it, poor Hetty ; and some- 
 times wish, in bitterness of spirit, that I had 
 prayed more myself and thought less of my beau- 
 ty. As you say, we are now safe, and need only 
 go a little south and take breath. 5 '’ 
 
 This was done ; the enemy giving up the pur- 
 suit, as suddenly as a ship that has lost an impor- 
 tant spar, the instant the accident occurred. In- 
 stead of following Judith’s canoe, which was now 
 lightly skimming over the water toward the south. 
 
 the Hurons turned their bows toward the castle, 
 where they soon arrived and landed. The girls, 
 fearful that some spare paddles might be found 
 in or about the building, continued on ; nor did 
 they stop until so distant from their enemies as 
 to give them every chance of escape should the 
 chase be renewed. It would seem that the sav- 
 ages meditated no such design, but at the end of 
 an hour their canoe, filled with men, was seen 
 quitting the castle and steering toward the shore. 
 The girls were without food, and they now drew 
 nearer to the buildings and the ark, having finally 
 made up their minds, from its manoeuvres, that 
 the. latter contained friends. 
 
 Notwithstanding the seeming desertion of the 
 castle, Judith approached it with extreme cau- 
 tion. The ark was now quite a mile to the 
 northward, but sweeping up toward the build- 
 ings ; and this, too, with a regularity of motion 
 that satisfied Judith a white man was at the oars. 
 When within a hundred yards of the building, 
 the girls began to encircle it, in order to make 
 sure that it was empty. No canoe was nigh, and 
 this emboldened them to draw nearer and nearer, 
 until they had gone round the piles and reached 
 the platform. 
 
 “ Do you go into the house, Hetty,” said Ju- 
 dith, “ and see that the savages are gone. They 
 will not harm you ; and, if any of them are still 
 here, you can give me the alarm. I do not think 
 they will fire on a poor, defenceless girl, and I at 
 least tnay escape, until I shall be ready to go 
 among them of my own accord.” 
 
 Hetty did as desired — Judith retiring a few 
 yards from the platform the instant her sister 
 landed, in readiness for flight. But the last was 
 unnecessary, not a minute elapsing before Hetty 
 returned to communicate that all was safe. 
 
 “ I’ve been in all the rooms, Judith,” said the 
 latter, earnestly, “ and they are empty, except fa- 
 ther’s ; he is in his own chamber sleeping, though 
 not as quietly as we could wish.” 
 
 “ Has any thing happened to father ? ” de- 
 manded Judith, as her foot touched the platform, 
 speaking quick, for her nerves were in a state to 
 be easily alarmed. 
 
 Hetty seemed concerned, and she looked fur- 
 tively about her, as if unwilling any one but a 
 child should hear what she had to communicate, 
 and even that she should learn it abruptly. 
 
 “ You know how it is with father, sometimes, 
 Judith,” she said. “ When overtaken with liquor 
 he doesn’t always know what he says or does— 
 and he seems to be overtaken with liquor now.” 
 
 “ That is strange ! Would the savages have 
 drunk with him and then leave him behind ? 
 
TOM HUTTER SCALPED. 
 
 155 
 
 But ’tis a grievous sight to a child, Hetty, to 
 witness such a failing in a parent, and we will 
 not go near him till he wakes.” 
 
 A groan from the inner room, however, changed 
 this resolution, and the girls ventured near a 
 parent, whom it was no unusual thing for them to 
 find in a condition that lowers a man to the level 
 of brutes. He was seated, reclining in a corner 
 of a narrow room, with his shoulders supported 
 by the angle, and his head fallen heavily on his 
 chest. Judith moved forward, with a sudden im- 
 pulse, and removed a canvas cap that was forced 
 so low on his head as to conceal his face, and, in- 
 deed, all but his shoulders. The instant this ob- 
 stacle was taken away, the quivering and raw 
 flesh, the bared veins and museles, and all the 
 other disgusting signs of mortality, as they are 
 revealed by tearing away the skin, showed he had 
 been scalped, though still living. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 “Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone, 
 
 And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 
 
 But nothing he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on, 
 
 In the grave where a Briton has laid hirm” 
 
 Disputed. 
 
 The reader must imagine the horror that 
 daughters would experience at unexpectedly be- 
 holding the shocking spectacle that was placed be- 
 fore the eyes of Judith and Esther, as related in the 
 close of the last chapter. We shall pass over the 
 first emotions, the first acts of filial piety, and pro- 
 ceed with the narrative, by imagining rather than 
 relating most of the revolting features of the scene. 
 The mutilated and ragged head was bound up, 
 the unseemly blood was wiped from the face of 
 the sufferer, the other appliances required by ap- 
 pearances and care were resorted to, and there 
 was time to inquire into the more serious circum- 
 stances of the case. The facts were never known 
 until years later, in all their details, simple as they 
 were ; but they may as well be related here, as it 
 can be done in a few words. In the struggle 
 with the Hurons, Hutter had been stabbed by the 
 knife of the old warrior, who had used the discre- 
 tion to remove the arms of every one but him- 
 self. Being hard pushed by his sturdy foe, his 
 knife settled the matter. This occurred just as 
 the door was opened and Hurry burst out upon 
 the platform, as has been previously related. This 
 was the secret of neither party’s having appeared 
 in the subsequent struggle ; Hutter having been 
 literally disabled, and his conqueror being ashamed 
 
 to be seen with the traces of blood about him, 
 after having used so many injunctions to con- 
 vince his young warriors of the necessity of taking 
 their prisoners alive. When the three Hurons re- 
 turned from the chase, and it was determined to 
 abandon the castle and join the party on the land, 
 Hutter was simply scalped, to secure the usual 
 trophy, and was left to die by inches, as has been 
 done in a thousand similer instances by the ruth- 
 less warriors of this part of the American Con- 
 tinent. Had the injury of Hutter been confined 
 to his head, he might have recovered, however ; 
 for it was the blow of the knife that proved 
 mortal. 
 
 There are moments of vivid consciousness, 
 when the stern justice of God stands forth in col- 
 ors so prominent as to defy any attempts to veil 
 them from the sight, however unpleasant they 
 may appear, or however anxious we may be to 
 avoid recognizing it. Such was now the fact 
 with Judith and Hetty, who both perceived the 
 decrees of a retributive Providence, in the man- 
 ner of their father’s suffering, as a punishment for 
 his own recent attempts on the Iroquois. This 
 was seen and felt by Judith, with the keenness 
 of perception and sensibility that were suited to 
 her character ; while the impression made on the 
 simpler mind of her sister was perhaps less lively, 
 though it might well have proved more lasting. 
 
 “ 0 Judith ! ” exclaimed the weak-minded 
 girl, as soon as their first care had been bestowed 
 on the sufferer. “ Father went for scalps, him- 
 self, and now where is his own ? The Bible might 
 have foretold this punishment ! ” 
 
 “ Hush — Hetty — hush, poor sister — he opens 
 his eyes ; he may hear and understand you. ’Tis 
 as you say and think ; but ’tis too dreadful to 
 speak of ! ” 
 
 “Water — ” ejaculated Hutter, as it might be 
 by a desperate effort, that rendered his voice 
 frightfully deep and strong, for one as near death 
 as he evidently was — “ water — foolish girls — will 
 you let me die of thirst ? ” 
 
 Water was brought and administered to the 
 sufferer ; the first he had tasted in hours of phys- 
 ical anguish. It had the double effect of clear- 
 ing his throat, and of momentarily reviving his 
 sinking system. His eyes opened with that anx- 
 ious, distended gaze, which is apt to accompany 
 the passage of a soul surprised by death, and he 
 seemed disposed to speak. 
 
 “ Father — ” said Judith, inexpressibly pained 
 by his deplorable situation, and this so much the 
 more from her ignorance of what remedies ought 
 to be applied — “ father, can we do any thing foi 
 you ? Can Hetty and I relieve your pain ? ” 
 
156 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “ Father ! ” slowly repeated the old man. 
 “No, Judith — no, Hetty — I’m no father. She 
 was your mother, but I’m no father. Look in the 
 chest — ’tis all there — give me more water.” 
 
 The girls complied ; and Judith, whose early 
 recollections extended farther back than her sis- 
 ter’s, and who, on every account, had more dis- 
 tinct impressions of the past, felt an uncontrol- 
 lable impulse of joy as she heard these words. 
 There had never been much sympathy between 
 her reputed father and herself, and suspicions of 
 this very truth had often glanced across her mind, 
 in consequence of dialogues she had overheard 
 between Hutter and her mother. It might be go- 
 ing too far to say that she had never loved him ; 
 but it is not so to add that she rejoiced it was no 
 longer a duty. With Hetty the feeling was dif- 
 ferent. Incapable of making all the distinctions 
 of her sister, her very nature was full of affection, 
 and she had loved her reputed parent, though far 
 less tenderly than the real parent ; and it grieved 
 her, now, to hear him declare he was not natural- 
 ly entitled to that love. She felt a double grief, 
 as if his death and his words together were twice 
 depriving her of parents. Yielding to her feel- 
 ings, the poor girl went aside and wept. 
 
 The very opposite emotions of the two girls 
 kept both silent for a long time. Judith gave wa- 
 ter to the sufferer frequently, but she forbore to 
 urge him with questions, in some measure out of 
 consideration for his condition; but, if truth must 
 be said, quite as much lest something he should 
 add, in the way of explanation, might disturb her 
 pleasing belief that she was not Thomas Hutter’s 
 child. At length Hetty dried her tears, and 
 came and seated herself on a stool by the side of 
 the dying man, who had been placed at his length 
 on the floor, with his head supported by some worn 
 vestments that had been left in the house. 
 
 “ Father,” she said, “ you will let me call you 
 father, though you say you are not one — father, 
 shall I read the Bible to you — mother always said 
 the Bible was good for people in trouble. She 
 was often in trouble herself, and then she made 
 me read the Bible to her ; for Judith wasn’t as 
 fond of the Bible as I am — and it always did her 
 good. Many is the time I’ve known mother be- 
 gin to listen with the tears streaming from her 
 eyes, and end with smiles and gladness. 0 fa- 
 ther, you don’t know how much good the Bible 
 can do, for you’ve never tried it — now, I’ll read a 
 chapter, and it will soften your heart, as it soft- 
 tned the hearts of the Ilurons.” 
 
 While poor Hetty had so much reverence for, 
 and faith in, the virtue of the Bible, her intellect 
 was too shallow to enable her fully to appreciate 
 
 its beauties, or to fathom its profound and somo> 
 times mysterious wisdom. That instinctive sense 
 of right, which appeared to shield her from the 
 commission of wrong, and even cast a mantle of 
 moral loveliness and truth around her character, 
 could not penetrate abstrusities, or trace the nice 
 affinities between cause and effect, beyond their 
 more obvious and indisputable connection, though 
 she seldom failed to see the latter, and to defer 
 to all their just consequences. In a word, she 
 was one of those who feel and act correctly, with- 
 out being able to give a logical reason for it, even 
 admitting revelation as her authority. Her selec- 
 tions from the Bible, therefore, were commonly 
 distinguished by the simplicity of her own mind, 
 and were oftener marked for containing images 
 of known and palpable things, than for any of 
 the higher cast of moral truths with which the 
 pages of that wonderful book abound — wonder- 
 ful and unequalled, even without referring to its 
 divine origin, as a work replete with the pro- 
 foundest philosophy, expressed in the noblest lan- 
 guage. Her mother, with a connection that will 
 probably strike the reader, had been fond of the 
 book of Job ; and Hetty had, in a great measure, 
 learned to read by the frequent lessons she had 
 received from the different chapters of this vener- 
 able and sublime poem — now believed to be the 
 oldest book in the world. On this occasion, the 
 poor girl was submissive to her training, and she 
 turned to that well-known part of the sacred vol- 
 ume with the readiness with which the practised 
 counsel would cite his authorities from the stores 
 of legal wisdom. In selecting the particular chap- 
 ter, she was influenced by the caption, and she 
 chose that which stands in our English version, 
 as “ Job excuseth his desire of deaths This she 
 read steadily, from beginning to end, in a sweet, 
 low, and plaintive voice ; hoping devoutly that 
 the allegorical and abstruse sentences might con- 
 vey to the heart of the sufferer the consolation 
 he needed. It is another peculiarity of the com 
 prehensive wisdom of the Bible, that scarce a 
 chapter, unless it be strictly narrative, can be 
 turned to, that does not contain some searching 
 truth that is applicable to the condition of every 
 human heart, as well as to the temporal state of 
 its owner, either through the workings of that 
 heart, or even in a still more direct form. In this 
 instance, the very opening sentence — “ Is there 
 not an appointed time to man on earth ? ” — was 
 startling ; and as Hetty proceeded, Hutter applied, 
 or fancied he could apply, many aphorisms and 
 figures to his own worldly and mental condition. 
 As life is ebbing fast, the mind clings eagerly to 
 hope, when it is not absolutely crushed bv df* 
 
CONSOLATIONS OF JUDITH AND HETTY. 
 
 157 
 
 gpair. The solemn words— “ I have sinned ; what 
 t hall I do unto thee , 0 thou preserver of men ? 
 Why hast thou set me as a mark against thee , so that 
 lam a burden to myself ? " struck Hutter more 
 perceptibly than the others ; and, though too ob- 
 scure for one of his blunted feelings and obtuse 
 mind either to feel or to comprehend in their 
 fullest extent, they had a directness of application 
 to his own state that caused him to wince under 
 them. 
 
 “ Don’t you feel better now, father ? ” asked 
 Hetty, closing the volume. “ Mother was always 
 better when she had read the Bible.” 
 
 “ Water,” returned Hutter ; “ give me water, 
 Judith. I wonder if my tongue will always be 
 so hot ! Hetty, isn’t there something in the Bible 
 about cooling the tongue of a man who was burn- 
 ing in hell-fire ? ” 
 
 Judith turned away, shocked ; but Hetty ea- 
 gerly sought the passage, which she read aloud 
 to the conscience-stricken victim of his own ava- 
 ricious longings. 
 
 “That’s it, poor Hetty; yes, that’s it. My 
 tongue wants cooling, now ; what will it be here- 
 after ? ” 
 
 This appeal silenced even the confiding Hetty, 
 for she had no answer ready for a confession so 
 fraught with despair. Water, so long as it could 
 relieve the sufferer, it was in the power of the sis- 
 ters to give ; and, from time to time, it was of- 
 fered to the lips of the sufferer, as he asked for 
 it. Even Judith prayed. As for Hetty, as scon 
 as she found that her efforts to make her father 
 listen to her texts were no longer rewarded with 
 success, she knelt at his side, and devoutly re- 
 peated the words which the Saviour has left be- 
 hind him as a model for human petitions. This 
 she continued to do, at intervals, as long as it 
 seemed to her that the act could benefit the dy- 
 ing man. Hutter, however, lingered longer than 
 the girls had believed possible, when they first 
 found him. At times he spoke intelligibly, though 
 his lips oftener moved in utterafice of sounds that 
 carried no distinct impressions to the mind. Ju- 
 dith listened intently, and she heard the words 
 “husband,” “death,” “ pirate,” “ law,” “scalps,” 
 and several others of a similar import, though, 
 there was no sentence to tell the precise connec- 
 tion in which they were used. Still they were 
 sufficiently expressive to be understood by one 
 whose ears had not escaped all the ruiqorS that 
 had been circulated to her reputed father’s dis- 
 credit, and whose comprehension was as quick as 
 her faculties were attentive. 
 
 During the whole of the painful hour that 
 succeeded, neither of the sisters bethought her 
 
 sufficiently of the Hurons to dread their return. 
 It seemed as if their desolation and grief placed 
 them above the danger of such an interruption ; 
 and when the sound of oars was at length heard, 
 even Judith, who alone had any reason to appre- 
 hend the enemy, did not start, but at once under- 
 stood that the ark was near. She went upon the 
 platform fearlessly ; for, should it turn out that 
 Hurry was not there, and that the Hurons were 
 masters of the scow also, escape was impossible 
 Then she had the sort of confidence that is in-’ 
 spired by extreme misery. But there was no 
 cause for any new alarm — Chingachgook, Hist, 
 and Hurry, all standing in the open part of the 
 scow, cautiously examining the building, to make 
 certain of the absence of the enemy. They, too, 
 had seen the departure of the Hurons, as well as 
 the approach of the canoe of the girls to the cas- 
 tle, and, presuming on the latter fact, March had 
 swept the scow up to the platform. A word 
 sufficed to explain that there was nothing to be 
 apprehended, and the ark was soon moored in 
 her old berth. 
 
 Judith said not a word concerning the con- 
 dition of her father, but Hurry knew her too well 
 not to understand that something was more than 
 usually wrong. He led the way, though with 
 less of hiS confident bold manner than usual, into 
 the house, and penetrating to the inner room, 
 found Hutter lying on his back, with Hetty sit- 
 ting at his side, fanning him with pious care. 
 The events of the morning had sensibly changed 
 the manner of Hurry. Notwithstanding his skill 
 as a swimmer, and the readiness with which he 
 had adopted the only expedient that could possi- 
 bly save him, the helplessness of being in the 
 water, bound hand and foot, had produced some 
 such an effect on him as the near approach of 
 punishment is known to produce on most crimi- 
 nals, leaving a vivid impression of the horrors of 
 death upon his mind, and this, too, in connection 
 with a picture of bodily helplessness ; the daring 
 of this man being far more the offspring of vast 
 physical powers than of the energy of the will, or 
 even of natural spirit. Such heroes invariably 
 lose a large portion of their courage with the fail- 
 ure of their strength ; and, though Hurry was 
 now unfettered, and as vigorous as ever, events 
 were too recent to permit the recollection of his 
 late deplorable condition to be at all weakened 
 Had he lived a century, the occurrences of the 
 few momentous minutes during which he was 
 in the lake, would have produced a chastening 
 effect on his character, if not always on his 
 manner. 
 
 Hurry was not only shocked when he found 
 
158 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 his late associate in this desperate situation, but 
 he was greatly surprised. During the struggle in 
 the bunding, he had been far too much occupied 
 himself to learn what had befallen his comrade, 
 and, as no deadly weapon had been used in his 
 particular Case, but every effort had been made 
 to capture him without injury, he naturally be- 
 lieved that Hutter had been overcome, while he 
 owed his own escape to his great bodily strength, 
 and to a fortunate concurrence of extraordinary 
 circumstances. Death, in the silence and solem- 
 nity of a chamber, was a novelty to him. Though 
 accustomed to scenes of violence, he had been 
 unused to sit by the bedside and watch the slow 
 beating of the pulse as it gradually grew weaker 
 and weaker. Notwithstanding the change in his 
 feelings, the manners of a life could not be alto- 
 gether cast aside in a moment, and the unexpect- 
 ed scene extorted a characteristic speech from 
 the borderer. 
 
 “ How now ? old Tom,” he said, “ have the 
 vagabonds got you at an advantage, where you’re 
 not only down, but are likely to be kept down ! 
 I thought you a captyve, it’s true, but never sup- 
 posed you so hard run as this ! ” 
 
 Hutter opened his glassy eyes, and stared 
 wildly at the speaker. A flood of confused rec- 
 ollections rushed on his wavering mitfd at the 
 sight of his late comrade. It was evident that 
 he struggled with his own images, and knew not 
 the real from the unreal. 
 
 “ Who are you ? ” he asked in a husky whis- 
 per, his failing strength refusing to aid him in a 
 louder effort of his voice. “ Who are you? You 
 look like the mate of the Snow — he was a giant, 
 too, and near overcoming us.” 
 
 “I’m your mate, Floating Tom, and your 
 comrade, but have nothing to do with any snow. 
 It’s summer now, and Harry March always quits 
 the hills as soon after the frosts set in as is con- 
 venient.” 
 
 “ I know you — Hurry Skurry — I’ll sell you a 
 scalp ! a sound one, and of a full-grown man — 
 what’ll you give ? ” 
 
 “Poor Tom! That scalp business hasn’t 
 turned out at all profitable, and I’ve pretty much 
 concluded to give it up, and to follow a less 
 bloody calling.” 
 
 “ Have you got any scalp ? Mine’s gone — 
 how does it feel to have a scalp ? I know how it 
 feels to lose one — fire and flames about the brain 
 —and a wrenching at the heart — no, no — kill first 
 Hurry, and scalp afterward .” 
 
 “What does the old fellow mean, Judith? 
 He talks like one that is getting tired of the busi- 
 ness as well as myself. Why have you bound up 
 
 his head ? or have the savages tomahawked him 
 about the brains ? ” 
 
 “ They have done that for him which you and 
 he, Harry March, would have so gladly done for 
 them. His skin and hair have been torn from his 
 head to gain money from the Governor of Canada, 
 as you would have torn theirs from the heads of 
 the Hurons, to gain money from the Governor 
 of York.” 
 
 Judith spoke with a strong effort to appear 
 composed, but it was neither in her nature, nor 
 in the feeling of the moment, to speak altogether 
 without bitterness; The strength of her emphasis, 
 indeed, as well as her manner, caused Hetty to 
 look up reproachfully. 
 
 “These are high words to come from Thomas 
 Hutter’s darter, as Thomas Hutter lies dying be- 
 fore her eyes,” retorted Hurry. 
 
 “ God be praised for that ! — whatever re- 
 proach it may bring on my poor mother, I am 
 not Thomas Hutter’s daughter;” 
 
 “ Not Thomas Hutter’s darter ! Don’t disown 
 the old fellow in his last moments, Judith, for 
 that's a sin the Lord will never overlook. If 
 you’re not Thomas Hutter’s darter, whose darter 
 be you ? ” 
 
 This question rebuked the rebellious spirit of 
 Judith ; for, in getting rid of a parent whom she 
 felt it was a relief to find she might own she had 
 never loved, she overlooked the important cir- 
 cumstance that no substitute was ready to supply 
 his place. 
 
 “I cannot tell you, Harry, who my father 
 was,” she answered more mildly ; “ I hope he was 
 an honest man, at least.” 
 
 “ Which is more than you think was the case 
 with old Hutter? Well, Judith, I’ll not deny 
 that hard stories were in circulation consarning 
 Floating Tom, but who is there that doesn’t get 
 a scratch when an inimy holds the rake ? There’s 
 them that say hard things of me ; and even you % 
 beauty as you be, don’t always escape.” 
 
 This was said with a view to set up a species 
 of community of character between the parties,, 
 and, as the politicians are wont to express it, 
 with ulterior intentions. What might have been 
 .the consequences with one of Judith’s known 
 spirit, as well as her assured antipathy to the 
 speaker, it is not easy to say ; for, just then, Hut- 
 ter gave unequivocal signs that his last moment 
 was nigh. Judith and Hetty had stood by the 
 dying bed of their mother, and neitlier needed a 
 monitor to warn them of the crisis, and every 
 sign of resentment vanished from the face of the 
 first. Hutter opened his eyes, and even tried to 
 feel about him with his Lands, a sign that sight 
 
THE FUNERAL. 
 
 159 
 
 was failing. A minute later his breathing grew 
 ghastly ; a pause totally without respiration fol- 
 lowed ; and, then, succeeded the last, long-drawn 
 sigh, on which the spirit is supposed to quit the 
 body. This sudden termination of the life of one 
 who had hitherto filled so important a place in 
 the narrow scene on which he had been an actor, 
 put an end to all discussion. 
 
 The day passed by without further interrup- 
 tion, the Hurons, though possessed of a canoe, 
 appearing so far satisfied with their success as to 
 have relinquished all immediate designs on the 
 castle. It would not have been a safe undertak- 
 ing, indeed, to approach it under the rifles of 
 those it was now known to contain, and it is 
 probable that the truce was more owing to this 
 circumstance than to any other. In the mean 
 while, the preparations were made for the inter- 
 ment of Hutter. To bury him on the land was 
 impracticable, and it was Hetty’s wish that his 
 body should lie by the side of that of her mother, 
 in the lake. She had it in her power to quote 
 one of his speeches, in which he himself had 
 called the lake the “ family burying-ground,” and 
 luckily this was done without the knowledge of 
 her sister, who would have opposed the plan, had 
 she known it, with unconquerable disgust. But 
 Judith had not meddled with the arrangement, 
 and every necessary disposition was made with- 
 out her privity or advice. 
 
 The hour chosen for the rude ceremony was 
 just as the sun was setting, and a moment and a 
 scene more suited to paying the last office to one 
 of calm and pure spirit, could not have been 
 chosen. There are a mystery and a solemn dig- 
 nity in death, that dispose the living to regard 
 the remains of even a malefactor with a certain 
 degree of reverence. All worldly distinctions 
 have ceased ; it is thought that the veil has been 
 removed, and that the character and destiny of 
 the departed are now as much beyond human 
 opinions as they are beyond human ken. In 
 nothing is death more truly a leveller than in 
 this, since, while it may be impossible absolutely 
 to confound the great with the low, the worthy 
 with the unworthy, the mind feels it to be arro- 
 gance to assume a right to judge of those who 
 are believed to be standing at the judgment-seat 
 of God. When Judith was told that all was 
 ready, she went upon the platform, passive to the 
 request of her sister, and then she first took heed 
 of the arrangement. The body was in the scow, 
 enveloped in a sheet, and quite a hundred-weight 
 of stones, that had been taken from the fireplace, 
 were enclosed with it in order that it might sink. 
 No other preparation seemed to be thought neces- 
 
 11 
 
 sary, though Hetty carried her Bible beneath her 
 arm. 
 
 When all were on board the ark, this singu- 
 lar habitation of the man whose body it now bore 
 to its final abode, was set in motion. Hurry was 
 at the oars. In his powerful hands, indeed, they 
 seemed little more than a pair of sculls, which 
 were wielded without effort, and, as he was ex- 
 pert in their use, the Delaware remained a pas- 
 sive spectator of the proceedings. The progress 
 of the ark had something of the stately solem- 
 nity of a funeral procession, the dip of the oars 
 being measured, and the movement slow and 
 steady. The wash of the water, as the blades 
 rose and fell, kept time with the efforts of Hurry, 
 and might have been likened to the measured 
 tread of mourners. Then the tranquil scene was 
 in beautiful accordance with a rite that ever as- 
 sociates with itself the idea of God. At that in- 
 stant, the lake had not even a single ripple on its 
 glassy surface, and the broad panorama of woods 
 seemed to look down on the holy tranquillity of 
 the hour and ceremony in melancholy stillness. 
 Judith was affected to tears, and even Hurry, 
 though he hardly knew why, was troubled. Het- 
 ty preserved the outward signs of tranquillity, but 
 her inward grief greatly surpassed that of her 
 sister, since her affectionate heart loved more 
 from habit and long association, than from the 
 usual connections of sentiment and taste. She 
 was sustained by religious hope, however, which 
 in her simple mind usually occupied the space 
 that worldly feelings filled in that of Judith ; and 
 she was not without an expectation of witnessing 
 some open manifestation of divine power, on an 
 occasion so solemn. Still, she was neither mysti- 
 cal nor exaggerated, her mental imbecility deny- 
 ing both. Nevertheless her thoughts had gener- 
 ally so much of the purity of a better world about 
 them, that it was easy for her to forget earth al- 
 together, and to think only of heaven. Hist was 
 serious, attentive, and interested, for she had of- 
 ten seen the interments of the pale-faces, though 
 never one that promised to be as peculiar as 
 this ; while the Delaware, though grave, and also 
 observant in his demeanor, was stoical and calm 
 
 Hetty acted as pilot, directing Hurry how to 
 proceed, to find that spot in the lake which sh< 
 was in the habit of terming “ mother’s grave.’ 
 The reader will remember that the castle stood 
 near the southern extremity of a shoal that ex- 
 tended near half a mile northerly, and it was at 
 the farthest end of this shallow water that Float- 
 ing Tom had seen fit to deposit the remains of 
 his wife and child. His own were now in the 
 course of being placed at their side. Hetty had 
 
160 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 marks on the land by which she usually found 
 the spot, although the position of the buildings, 
 the general direction of the shoal, and the beau- 
 tiful transparency of the water, all aided her, the 
 latter even allowing the bottom to be seen. By 
 these means the girl was enabled to note their 
 progress, and at the proper time she approached 
 March, whispering — 
 
 “Now, Hurry, you can stop rowing. We 
 have passed the stone on the bottom, and moth- 
 er’s grave is near.” 
 
 March ceased his efforts, immediately drop- 
 ping the kedge, and taking the warp in his hand, 
 in order to check the scow. The ark turned slowly 
 round under this restraint, and when it was quite 
 stationary, Hetty was seen at its stern, pointing 
 into the water, the tears streaming from her eyes, 
 in ungovernable natural feeling. Judith had been 
 present at the interment of her mother, but she 
 had never visited the spot since. This neglect 
 proceeded from no indifference to the memory of 
 the deceased ; for she had loved her mother , and 
 bitterly had she found occasion to mourn her loss ; 
 but she was averse to the contemplation of death ; 
 and there had been passages in her own life since 
 the day of that interment which increased this 
 feeling, and rendered her, if possible, still more 
 reluctant to approach the spot that contained the 
 remains of one whose severe lessons of female 
 morality and propriety had been deepened and 
 rendered doubly impressive by remorse for her 
 own failings. With Hetty, the case had been 
 very different. To her simple and innocent mind, 
 the remembrance of her mother brought no other 
 feeling than one of gentle sorrow ; a grief that is 
 so often termed luxurious, even, because it asso- 
 ciates with itself the images of excellence, and 
 the purity of a better state of existence. For an 
 entire summer, she had been in the habit of re- 
 pairing to the place after nightfall ; and, care- 
 fully anchoring her canoe so as not to disturb the 
 body, she would sit and hold fancied conversa- 
 tions with the deceased, sing sweet hymns to the 
 evening air, and repeat the orisons that the be- 
 ing who now slumbered below had taught her in 
 infancy. Hetty had passed her happiest hours 
 in this indirect communion with the spirit of her 
 mother ; the wildness of Indian traditions and In- 
 dian opinions, unconsciously to herself, mingling 
 with the Christian lore received in childhood. 
 Once she had even been so far influenced by the 
 former, as to have bethought her of performing 
 some of those physical rites at her mother’s 
 grave, which the red men are known to observe ; 
 but the passing feeling had been obscured by the 
 steady though mild light of Christianity, which 
 
 never ceased to burn in her gentle bosom. Now, 
 her emotions were merely the natural outpourings 
 of a daughter that wept for a mother whose love 
 was indelibly impressed on the heart, and whose 
 lessons had been too earnestly taught to be easily 
 forgotten by one who had so little temptation to 
 err. 
 
 There was no other priest than Nature at that 
 wild and singular funeral rite. March cast his 
 eyes below, and through the transparent medium 
 of the clear water, which was almost as pure as 
 air, he saw what Hetty was accustomed to call 
 “ mother’s grave.” It was a low, straggling 
 mound of earth, fashioned by no spade, out of a 
 corner of which gleamed a bit of the white cloth 
 that formed the shroud of the dead. The body 
 had been lowered to the bottom, and Hutter 
 brought earth from the shore and let it fall upon 
 it until all was concealed. In this state the place 
 had remained until the movement of the waters 
 revealed the solitary sign of the uses of the spot 
 that has just been mentioned. 
 
 Even the most rude and brawling are chast- 
 ened by the ceremonies of a funeral. March felt 
 no desire to indulge his voice in any of its coarse 
 outbreakings, and was disposed to complete the 
 office he had undertaken in decent sobriety. 
 Perhaps he reflected on the retribution that had 
 alighted on his late comrade, and bethought him 
 of the frightful jeopardy in which his own life 
 had so lately been placed. He signified to Judith 
 that all was ready, received her directions to pro- 
 ceed, and, with no other assistant than his own 
 vast strength, raised the body and bore it to the 
 end of the scow. Two parts of a rope were 
 passed beneath the legs and shoulders, as they 
 are placed beneath coffins, and then the corpse 
 was slowly lowered beneath the surface of the 
 lake. 
 
 “ Not there — Harry March — no, not there” 
 said Judith, shuddering involuntarily; “do not 
 lower it quite so near the spot where mother 
 lies ! ” 
 
 “ Why not, Judith ? ” asked Hetty, earnestly. 
 “ They lived together in life, and should lie to- 
 gether in death.” 
 
 “ No — no — Harry March, farther off — farther 
 off. — Poor Hetty, you know not what you say 
 Leave me to order this.” 
 
 “ I know I am weak-minded, Judith, and that 
 you are clever — but surely a husband should bo 
 placed near a wife. Mother always said that 
 this was the way they bury in Christian church- 
 yards.” 
 
 This little controversy was conducted ear- 
 nestly, but in smothered voices, as if the sneakers 
 
MARCH’S PROPOSAL TO JUDITH. 
 
 161 
 
 'eared that the dead might overhear them. Ju- 
 dith could not contend with her sister, at such a 
 moment, but a significant gesture from her in- 
 duced March to lower the body at a little dis- 
 tance from that of the wife ; when he withdrew 
 the cords, and the act was performed. 
 
 “ There’s an end of Floating Tom ! ” exclaimed 
 Hurry, bending over the scow, and gazing through 
 the water at the body. “ He was a brave com- 
 panion on a scout, and a notable hand with 
 traps. Don’t weep, Judith — don’t be overcome, 
 Hetty, for the righteousest of us all must die ; 
 and when the time comes, lamentations and tears 
 can’t bring the dead to life. Your father will be 
 a loss to you, no doubt ; most fathers are a loss, 
 especially to onmarried darters ; but there’s a 
 way to cure that evil, and you’re both too young 
 and handsome to live long without finding it out. 
 When it’s agreeable to hear what an honest and 
 onpretending man has to say, Judith, I should 
 like to talk a little with you apart.” 
 
 Judith had scarce attended to this rude at- 
 tempt of Hurry’s at consolation, although she ne- 
 cessarily understood its general drift, and had a 
 tolerably acute notion of its manner. She was 
 weeping at the recollection of her mother’s early 
 tenderness, and painful images of long-forgotten 
 lessons and neglected precepts were crowding 
 her mind. The words of Hurry, however, re- 
 called her to the present time, and, abrupt and 
 unseasonable as was their import, they did not 
 produce those signs of distaste that one might 
 have expected, from the girl’s character. On the 
 contrary, she appeared to be struck with some 
 sudden idea, gazed intently for a moment at the 
 young man, dried her eyes, and led the way to 
 the other end of the scow, signifying her wish for 
 him to follow. Here she took a seat, and mo- 
 tioned for March to place himself at her side. 
 The decision and earnestness with which all this 
 was done a little intimidated her companion, and 
 Judith found it necessary to open the subject her- 
 self. 
 
 “ You wish to speak to me of marriage, Harry 
 March,” she said, “ and I have come here, over 
 the grave of my parents, as it might be — no, no 
 — over the grave of my poor, dear, dear mother, 
 to hear what you have to say.” 
 
 “ This is oncommon, and you have a skeerful 
 way with you, this evening, Judith,” answered 
 Hurry, more disturbed than he would have cared 
 to own ; “ but truth is truth, and it shall come 
 out, let what will follow. You well know, gal, 
 that I’ve long thought you the comeliest young 
 woman my eyes ever beheld, and that I’ve made 
 
 secret of that fact, either here on the lake, out 
 
 among the hunters and trappers, oi in the settle- 
 ments.” 
 
 “ Yes — yes, I’ve heard this before, and I sup- 
 pose it to be true,” answered Judith, with a sort 
 of feverish impatience. 
 
 “ When a young man holds such language of 
 any particular young woman, it’s reasonable to 
 calculate he sets store by her.” 
 
 “ True — true, Hurry — all this you’ve told me, 
 again and again.” 
 
 “Well, if it’s agreeable, I should think a 
 woman couldn’t hear it too often. They all tell 
 me this is the way with your sex — that nothing 
 pleases them more than to repeat, over and over, 
 for the hundredth time, how much you like ’em, 
 unless it be to talk to ’em of their good looks ! ” 
 
 “ No doubt — we like both on most occasions ; 
 but this is an uncommon moment, Hurry, and 
 vain words should not be too freely used. I 
 would rather hear you speak plainly.” 
 
 “ You shall have your own way, Judith, and I 
 some suspect you always will. I’ve often told 
 you that I not only like you better than any 
 other young woman going, or, for that matter, 
 better than all the young women going ; but you 
 must have obsarved, Judith, that I’ve never asked 
 you, in up-and-down tarms, to marry me.” 
 
 “ I have observed both,” returned the girl, a 
 smile struggling about her beautiful mouth, in 
 spite of the singular and engrossing intentness 
 which caused her cheeks to flush and lighted her 
 eyes with a brilliancy that was almost dazzling — 
 “ I have observed both, and have thought the 
 last t remarkable for a man of Harry March’s de- 
 cision and fearlessness.” 
 
 “ There’s been a reason, gal, and it’s one that 
 troubles me even now — nay, don’t flush up so, 
 and look fiery-like, for there are thoughts which 
 will stick long in any man’s mind, as there be words 
 that will stick in his throat — but then, ag’in, 
 there’s feelin’s that will get the better of ’em all, 
 and to these feelin’s I find I must submit. You’ve 
 no longer a father, or a mother, Judith ; and it’s 
 morally impossible that you and Hetty could live 
 here, alone, allowing it was peace and the Iro- 
 quois was quiet ; but, as matters stand, not only 
 would you starve, but you’d both be prisoners, 
 or scalped, afore a week was out. It’s time to 
 think of a change and a husband, and, if you’ll 
 accept of me, all that’s past shall be forgotten, 
 and there’s an end on’t.” 
 
 Judith had difficulty in repressing her impa 
 tience until this rude declaration and offer were 
 made, which she evidently wished to hear, and 
 which she now listened to with a willingness that 
 might well have excited hope. She hardly al- 
 
L62 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 lowed the young man to conclude, so eager was 
 she to bring him to the point, and so ready to 
 answer. 
 
 “ There, Hurry, that’s enough,” she said, rais- 
 ing a hand, as if to stop him ; “ I understand you 
 as well as if you were to talk a month. You 
 prefer me to other girls, and you wish me to be- 
 come your wife.” 
 
 “ You put it in better words than I can do, 
 Judith, and I wish you to fancy them said, just 
 as you most like to hear ’em.” 
 
 “ They’re plain enough, Hurry, and ’tis fitting 
 they should be so. This is no place to trifle or 
 deceive in. Now, listen to my answer, which 
 shall be, in every tittle, as sincere as your offer. 
 There is a reason, March, why I should never — •” 
 
 “ I suppose I understand you, Judith ; but if 
 I’m willing to overlook that reason, it’s no one’s 
 consarn but mine. Now, don’t brighten up like 
 the sky at sundown ; for no offence is meant, and 
 none should be taken.” 
 
 “ I do not brighten up, and will not take of- 
 fence,” said Judith, struggling to repress her in- 
 dignation, in a way she had never found it neces- 
 sary to exert before. “ There is a reason why I 
 should not, cannot , ever be your wife, Hurry, that 
 you seem to overlook, and which it is my duty 
 now to tell you, as plainly as you have asked me 
 to consent to become so. I do not, and I am 
 certain that I never shall love you well enough to 
 marry you. No man can wish for a wife who 
 does not prefer him to all other men ; and when 
 I tell you this frankly, I suppose you yourself will 
 thank me for my sincerity.” 
 
 “ 0 Judith, them flaunting, gay, scarlet-coated 
 officers of the garrison have done all this mis- 
 chief! ” 
 
 “ Hush, March ! do not calumniate a daughter 
 over her mother’s grave. Do not, when I only 
 wish to treat you fairly, give me reason to call for 
 evil on your head, in bitterness of heart ! Do 
 not forget that I am a woman, and that you are a 
 man ; and that I have neither father nor brother 
 *o revenge your words.” 
 
 “ Well, there is something in the last, and I’ll 
 gay no more. Take time, Judith, and think bet- 
 ter on this.” 
 
 “ I want no time ; my mind has long been 
 made up, and I have only waited for you to speak 
 plainly, to answer plainly. We now understand 
 each other, and there is no use in saying any more.” 
 
 The impetuous earnestness of the girl awed 
 the young man, for never before had he seen her 
 so serious and determined. In most of their 
 previous interviews she had met his advances 
 tfith evasion or sarcasm ; but these Hurry had 
 
 mistaken for female coquetry, and had supposed 
 might easily be converted into consent. The 
 struggle had been with himself, about offering ; 
 nor had he ever seriously believed it possible that 
 Judith would refuse to become the wife of the 
 handsomest man on all that frontier. Now that 
 the refusal came, and that in terms so decided as 
 to put all cavilling out of the question, if not ab- 
 solutely dumfounded, he was so much mortified 
 and surprised as to feel no wish to attempt to 
 change her resolution. 
 
 “ The Glimmerglass has now no great call for 
 me,” he exclaimed, after a minute’s silence. 
 “ Old Tom is gone ; the Hurons are as plenty on 
 shore as pigeons in the woods, and, altogether, it 
 is getting to be an onsuitable place.” 
 
 “ Then leave it. You see it surrounded by 
 dangers, and there is no reason why you should 
 risk your life for others. Nor do I know that 
 you can be of any service to us. Go to-night ; 
 we’ll never accuse you of having done any thing 
 forgetful or unmanly.” 
 
 “ If I go, ’twill be with a heavy heart on your 
 account, Judith ; I would rather take you with 
 me.” 
 
 “ That is not to be spoken of any longer, 
 March ; but I will land you in one of the canoes, 
 as soon as it is dark, and you can strike a trail 
 for the nearest garrison. When you reach the 
 fort, if you send a party — ” 
 
 Judith smothered the words, for she felt that 
 it was humiliating to be thus exposing herself to 
 the comments and reflections of one who was not 
 disposed to view her conduct in connection with 
 all in these garrisons with an eye of favor. Hur- 
 ry, however, caught the idea ; and, without per- 
 verting it, as the girl dreaded, he answered to the 
 purpose. 
 
 “ I understand what you would say, and why 
 you don’t say it,” he replied. “ If I get safe to 
 the fort, a party shall start on the trail of these 
 vagabonds, and I’ll come with it myself; for I 
 should like to see you and Hetty in a place of 
 safety, before we part forever.” 
 
 “Ah, Harry March, had you always spoken 
 thus, felt thus, my feelings toward you might 
 have been different ! ” 
 
 “Is it too late, now, Judith ? I’m rough, and 
 a woodsman ; but we all change under different 
 treatment from what we have been used to.” 
 
 “It is too late, March. I can never feel 
 toward you, or any other man but one , as you 
 would wish to have me. There, I’ve said enough, 
 surely, and you will question me no further. As 
 soon as it is dark, I or the Delaware will put you 
 on the shore ; you will make the best of your wax 
 
THE SISTERS’ CONFERENCE. 
 
 163 
 
 to the Mohawk and the nearest garrison, and send 
 all you can to our. assistance. And, Hurry, we are 
 now friends, and I may trust you, may I not ? ” 
 
 “ Sartain, Judith ; though our fri’ndship 
 would have been all the warmer, could you look 
 upon me as I look upon you.” 
 
 Judith hesitated, and some powerful emotion 
 was struggling within her. Then, as if determined 
 to look down all weaknesses, and accomplish 
 her purposes at every hazard, she spoke more 
 plainly : 
 
 “You will find a captain of the name of 
 Warley, at the nearest post,” she said, pale as 
 death, and even trembling as she spoke ; “ I think 
 it likely he will wish to head the party ; I would 
 greatly prefer it should be another. If Captain 
 Warley can be kept back, ’twould make me very 
 happy.” 
 
 “That’s easier said than done, Judith; for 
 these officers do pretty much as they please. The 
 major will order, and captains, and lieutenants, 
 and ensigns, must obey. I know the officer you 
 mean; a red-faced, gay, oh !-be-joyful sort of a 
 gentleman, who swallows Madeira enough to 
 drown the Mohawk, and yet a pleasant talker. 
 All the gals in the valley admire him ; and they 
 say he admires all the gals. I don’t wonder he is 
 your dislike, Judith, for he’s a very gin’ral lover, 
 if he isn’t a gin’ral officer.” 
 
 Judith did not answer, though her frame 
 shook, and her color changed from pale to crim- 
 son, and from crimson back again to the hue of 
 death. 
 
 “ Alas ! my poor mother ! ” she ejaculated 
 mentally, instead of uttering it aloud ; “ we are 
 over thy grave, but little dost thou know how 
 much thy lessons have been forgotten ; thy care 
 neglected ; thy love defeated.” 
 
 As this goading of the worm that never dies 
 was felt, she arose, and signified to Hurry that 
 she had no more to communicate. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 “ That point 
 
 In misery, which makes the oppressed man 
 Regardless of his own life, makes him too 
 Lord of the oppressor’s — ” 
 
 Coleridge. 
 
 All this time Hetty had remained seated in 
 the head of the scow, looking sorrowfully into 
 ^.he water, which held the body of her mother, as 
 well as that of the man whom she had been 
 taugnt to consider her father. Hist stood near 
 
 her in gentle quiet, but had no consolation to 
 offer in words. The habits of her people taught 
 her reserve in this respect ; and the habits of her 
 sex induced her to wait patiently for a moment 
 when she might manifest some soothing sympa- 
 thy by means of acts, rather than of speech. 
 Chingachgook held himself a little aloof, in grave 
 reserve, looking like a warrior, but feeling like a 
 man. 
 
 Judith joined her sister with an air of digni- 
 ty and solemnity it was not her practice to show ; 
 and, though the gleamings of anguish were still 
 visible on her beautiful face, when she spoke it 
 was firmly and without tremor. At that instant, 
 Hist and the Delaware withdrew, moving toward 
 Hurry, in the other end of the boat. 
 
 “Sister,” said Judith, kindly, “I have much 
 to say to you ; we will get into this canoe, and 
 paddle off to a distance from the ark — the secrets 
 of two orphans ought not to be heard by every 
 ear.” 
 
 “ Certainly, Judith, by the ears of their par- 
 ents. Let Hurry lift the grapnel, and move away 
 with the ark, and leave us here, near the graves 
 of father and mother, to say what we may have 
 to say.” 
 
 “ Father ! ” repeated Judith, slowly, the blood 
 for the first time since her parting with March, 
 mounting to her cheeks ; “ he was no father of 
 ours, Hetty ! Thai we had from his own mouth, 
 and in his dying moments.” 
 
 “Are you glad, Judith, to find you had no 
 father ? He took care of us, and fed us, and clothed 
 us, and loved us ; a father could have done no more. 
 I don’t understand why he wasn’t a father.” 
 
 “ Never mind, dear child, but let us do as you 
 have said. It may be well to remain here, and 
 let the ark move a little away. Do you prepare 
 the canoe, and I will tell Hurry and the Indians 
 our wishes.” 
 
 This was soon and simply done ; the ark mov- 
 ing, with measured strokes of the sweeps, a hun- 
 dred yards from the spot, leaving the girls float- 
 ing, seemingly in air, above the place of the dead ; 
 so buoyant was the light vessel that held them, 
 and so limpid the element by which it was sus- 
 tained. 
 
 “ The death of Thomas Hutter,” Judith com- 
 menced, after a short pause had prepared her sis- 
 ter to receive her communications, “ has altered 
 all our prospects, Hetty. If he was not our fa- 
 ther, we are sisters , and must feel alike and live 
 together.” 
 
 “ How do I know, Judith, that you wouldn’t 
 be as glad to find I am not your sister, as you aro 
 in finding that Thomas Hutter, as you call him, 
 
164 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 was not your father ? Iam only half-witted, and 
 few people like to have half-witted relations ; and 
 then I’m not handsome — at least, not as hand- 
 some as you — and you may wish a handsomer 
 sister.” 
 
 “ No, no, Hetty. You, and you only, are my 
 sister — my heart, and my love for you, tell me 
 that — and mother was my mother — of that, too, 
 am I glad and proud ; for she was a mother to be 
 proud of — but father was not father ! ” 
 
 “ Hush, Judith ! His spirit may be near ; it 
 would grieve it to hear his children talking so, 
 and that, too, over his very grave. Children 
 should never grieve parents, mother often told 
 me, and especially when they are dead ! ” 
 
 “ Poor Hetty ! They are happily removed be- 
 yond all cares on our accounts. Nothing that I 
 can do or say will cause mother any sorrow now 
 — there is some consolation in that, at least ! — 
 and nothing you can say or do, will make her 
 smile, as she used to smile on your good conduct 
 when living.” 
 
 “You don’t know that, Judith. Spirits can 
 see, and mother may see as well as any spirit. 
 She always told us that God saw all we did, and 
 that we should do nothing to offend him ; and 
 now she has left us, I strive to do nothing that 
 can displease her. Think how her spirit would 
 mourn and feel sorrow, Judith, did it see either 
 of us doing what is not right ; and spirits may 
 see, after all; especially the spirits of parents 
 that feel anxious about their children.” 
 
 “ Hetty, Hetty — you know not what you 
 say ! ” murmured Judith, almost livid with emo- 
 tion. “ The dead cannot see, and know nothing 
 of what passes here ! But we will not talk of 
 this any longer. The bodies of mother and 
 Thomas Hutter lie together in the lake, and we 
 will hope that the spirits of both are with God. 
 That we, the children of one of them, remain on 
 earth is certain ; it is now proper to know what 
 we are to do in future.” 
 
 “If we are not Thomas Hutter’s children, Ju- 
 dith, no one will dispute our right to his property. 
 We have the castle, and the ark, and the canoes, 
 and the woods, and the lakes, the same as when 
 he was living ; and what can prevent us from 
 staying here, and passing our lives just as we ever 
 have done ? ” 
 
 “No, no — poor sister. This can no longer 
 be. Two girls would not be safe here, even 
 should these Hurons fail in getting us into their 
 power. Even father had as much as he eould 
 sometimes do to keep peace upon the lake; and 
 we should fail altogether. We must quit this 
 spot, Hetty, and remove into the settlements.” 
 
 “ I am sorry you think so, Judith,” returned. 
 Hetty, drooping her head on her bosom, and look- 
 ing thoughtfully down at the spot where the fu- 
 neral-pile of her mother could just be seen. “ I 
 am very sorry to hear it. I would rather stay 
 here, where, if I wasn’t born, I’ve passed my life. 
 I don’t like the settlements — they are full of 
 wickedness and heart-burnings, while God dwells 
 unoffended in these hills ! I love the trees, and 
 the mountains, and the lake, and the springs ; all 
 that his bounty has given us, and it would grieve 
 me sorely, Judith, to be forced to quit them. 
 You are handsome, and not at all half-witted, and 
 one day you will marry, and then you will have a 
 husband, and I a brother, to take care of us, if 
 women can’t really take care of themselves in 
 such a place as this.” 
 
 “ Ah ! if this could be so, Hetty, then, indeed, 
 I could now be a thousand times happier in these 
 woods than in the settlements ! Once I did not 
 feel thus, but now I do. Yet, where is the man 
 to turn this beautiful place into such a garden of 
 Eden for us ? ” 
 
 “Harry March loves you, sister,” returned 
 poor Hetty, unconsciously picking the bark off 
 the canoe as she spoke. “ He would be glad to 
 be your husband, I’m sure ; and a stouter and a 
 braver youth is not to be met with the whole 
 country round.” 
 
 “ Harry March and I understand each other, 
 and no more need be said about him. There is 
 one — but no matter. It is all in the hands of 
 Providence, and we must shortly come to some 
 conclusion about our future manner of living. 
 Remain here — that is, remain here alone, we can- 
 not — and perhaps no occasion will ever offer for 
 remaining in the manner you think of. It is 
 time, too, Hetty, we should learn all we can con- 
 cerning our relations and family. It is not prob- 
 able we are altogether without relations, and they 
 may be glad to see us. The old chest is now our 
 property, and we have a right to look into it and 
 learn all we can by what it holds. Mother was 
 so very different from Thomas Hutter that, now I 
 know we are not his children, I burn with a de- 
 sire to know whose children we can be. There 
 are papers in that chest, I am certain, and those 
 papers may tell us all about our parents and natu- 
 ral friends.” 
 
 “ Well, Judith, you know best, for you are 
 cleverer than common, mother always said, and I 
 am only half-witted. Now father and mother are 
 dead, I don’t much care for any relations but you, 
 and don’t think I could love them I never saw as 
 well as I ought. If you don’t like to marry Hur- 
 ry, I don’t see who you can choose for a husband. 
 
HETTY’S PIETY. 
 
 165 
 
 and then I fear we shall have to quit the lake 
 after all.” 
 
 “ What do you think of Deerslayer, Hetty ? ” 
 asked Judith, bending forward like her unsophis- 
 ticated sister, £ id endeavoring to conceal her em- 
 barrassment in a similar manner. “Would he 
 not make a brother-in-law to your liking ? ” 
 
 “ Deerslayer ! ” repeated the other, looking 
 up in unfeigned surprise ; “ why, Judith, Deer- 
 alayer isn’t in the least comely, and is altogether 
 unfit for one like you ! ” 
 
 “ He is not ill-looking, Hetty ; and beauty in 
 a man is not of much matter.” 
 
 “ Do you think so, Judith ? I know that 
 beauty is of no great matter, in man or woman, 
 in the eyes of God ; for mother has often told me 
 so when she thought I might have been sorry I 
 was not as handsome as you — though she needn’t 
 have been uneasy on that account, for I never 
 coveted any thing that is yours, sister ; but tell 
 me so she did ; still, beauty is very pleasant to 
 the eye in both. I think, if I were a man, I 
 should pine more for good looks than I do as a 
 girl. A handsome man is a more pleasing sight 
 than a handsome woman.” 
 
 “ Poor child ! you scarce know what you say 
 or what you mean ! Beauty in our sex is some- 
 thing, but in man it passes for little. To be sure, 
 a man ought to be tall, but others are tall as well 
 as Hurry ; and active — I think I know those that 
 are more active ; and strong — well, he hasn’t all 
 the strength in the world ; and brave — I am cer- 
 tain I can name a youth who is braver.” 
 
 “ This is strange, Judith. I didn’t think the 
 earth held a handsomer, or a stronger, or a more 
 active, or a braver man, than Harry Hurry. I am 
 sure 1 never met his equal in either of these 
 things.” 
 
 “Well, well, Hetty — say no more of this. I 
 dislike to hear you talking in this manner. ’Tis 
 not suitable to your innocence, and truth, and 
 warm-hearted sincerity. Let Harry March go. 
 He quits us to-night, and no regret of mine will 
 follow him, unless it be that he has stayed so 
 long and to so little purpose.” 
 
 “Ah ! Judith, that is what I’ve long feared ; and 
 I did so hope he might be my brother-in-law ! ” 
 
 “ Never mind it now ; let us tolk of our poor 
 mother and of Thomas Hutter.” 
 
 “ Speak kindly, then, sister, for you can’t be 
 quite certain that spirits don’t both hear and see. 
 If father wasn’t father, he was good to us, and 
 gave us food and shelter. We can’t put any 
 stoues over their graves here in the water to tell 
 people all this, and so we ought to say it with our 
 tongues.” 
 
 “ They will care little for that, girl. *Tis a 
 great consolation to know, Hetty, that if mother 
 ever did commit any heavy fault when young, she 
 lived sincerely to repent of it ; no doubt her sins 
 were forgiven her.” 
 
 “ ’Tisn’t right, Judith, for children to talk of 
 their parents’ sins. We had better talk of our 
 own.” 
 
 “ Talk of your sins, Hetty ! If there ever was 
 a creature on earth without sin, it is you ! I wish 
 I could say or think the same of myself ; but we 
 shall see. No one knows what changes affection 
 for a good husband can make in a woman’s heart. 
 I don’t think, child, I have even now the same 
 love for finery I once had.” 
 
 “It would be a pity, Judith, if you did think 
 of clothes over your parents’ graves! We will 
 never quit this spot, if you say so, and will let 
 Hurry go where he pleases.” 
 
 “ I am willing enough to consent to the last, 
 but cannot answer for the first, Hetty. We must 
 live, in future, as becomes respectable young 
 women, and cannot remain here to be the talk and 
 jest of all the rude and foul-tongued trappers and 
 hunters that may come upon the lake. Let Hur- 
 ry go by himself, and then I’ll find the means to 
 see Deerslayer, when the future shall be soon 
 settled. Come, girl, the sun has set, and the ark 
 is drifting away from us ; let us paddle up to the 
 scow and consult with our friends. This night I 
 shall look into the chest, and to-morrow shall de- 
 termine what we are to do. As for the Hurons, 
 now we can use our stores without fear of Thom- 
 as Hutter, they will be easily bought off. Let me 
 get Deerslayer once out of their hands, and a 
 single hour shall bring things to an understand- 
 ing.” 
 
 Judith spoke with decision, and she spoke 
 with authority, a habit she had long practised 
 toward her feeble-minded sister. But, while thus 
 accustomed to have her way, by the aid of man- 
 ner and a readier command of words, Hetty oc- 
 casionally checked her impetuous feelings and 
 hasty acts by the aid of those simple moral truths 
 that were so deeply engrafted in all her own 
 thoughts and feelings, shining through both with 
 a mild and beautiful lustre that threw a sort of 
 holy halo around so much of what she both said 
 and did. On the present occasion, this healthful 
 ascendency of the girl of weak intellect, over her 
 of a capacity that, in other situations, might have 
 become brilliant and admired, was exhibited in 
 the usual simple and earnest manner. 
 
 “You forget, Judith, what has brought us 
 here,” she said, reproachfully. “ This is mother’s 
 grave, and we have just laid the body of father by 
 
160 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 her side. We have done wrong to talk so much 
 of ourselves at such a spot, and ought now to 
 pray God to forgive us, and ask him to teach us 
 where we are to go, and what we are to do.” 
 
 Judith involuntarily laid aside her paddle, 
 while Hetty dropped on her knees and was soon 
 lost in her devout but simple petitions. Her sis- 
 ter did not pray. This she had long ceased to do 
 directly, though anguish of spirit frequently 
 wrung from her mental and hasty appeals to the 
 great source of benevolence, for support, if not 
 for a change of spirit. Still, she never beheld 
 Hetty on her knees, that a feeling of tender recol- 
 lection, as well as of profound regret at the 
 deadness of her own heart, did not come over her. 
 Thus had she herself done in childhood, and even 
 down to the hour of her ill-fated visits to the gar- 
 risons ; and she would willingly have given worlds, 
 at such moments, to be able to exchange her pres- 
 ent sensations, for that confiding faith, those pure 
 aspirations, and the gentle hope that shone 
 through every lineament and movement of her 
 otherwise less favored sister. All she could do, 
 however, was to drop her head to her bosom, and 
 assume in her attitude some of that devotion in 
 which her stubborn spirit refused to unite. 
 
 When Hetty rose from her knees, her counte- 
 nance had a glow and serenity that rendered a 
 face that was always agreeable, positively hand- 
 some. Her mind was at peace, and her con- 
 science acquitted her of a neglect of duty. 
 
 “Now you may go, if you want to, Judith,” 
 she said ; “ God has been kind to me, and lifted 
 a burden off my heart. Mother had many such 
 burdens, she used to tell me, and she always took 
 them off in this way. ’Tis the only way, sister, 
 such things can be done. You may raise a stone, 
 or a log, with your hands ; but the heart must be 
 lightened by prayer. I don’t think you pray as 
 often as you used to do when younger, Judith ! ” 
 
 “ Never mind — never mind, child ” — answered 
 the other, huskily — “ ’tis no matter, now. Mother 
 is gone, and Thomas Hutter is gone, and the time 
 has come when we must think and act for our- 
 selves.” 
 
 As the canoe moved slowly away from the 
 place, under the gentle impulsion of the elder sis- 
 ter’s paddle, the younger sat musing, as was her 
 wont, whenever her mind was perplexed by any 
 idea more abstract and difficult of comprehension 
 than common. 
 
 “ I don’t know what you mean by future, Ju- 
 dith,” she at length suddenly observed. “ Mother 
 used to call heaven the future, but you seem to 
 think it means next week, or to-morrow ! ” 
 
 “ It means both, dear sister ; every thing that 
 
 is yet to come, whether in this world or another. 
 It is a solemn word, Hetty, and most so, I fear, to 
 them that think the least about it. Mother’s fu- 
 ture is eternity; ours may yet mean what will 
 happen while we live in this world— is not that a 
 canoe just passing behind the castle? — here, 
 more in the direction of the point, I mean ; it is 
 hid, now — but, certainly, I saw a canoe stealing 
 behind the logs.” 
 
 “ I’ve seen it some time,” Hetty quietly an- 
 swered, for the Indians had few terrors for her, 
 “ but I did not think it right to talk about such 
 things over mother’s grave. The canoe came 
 from the camp, Judith, and was paddled by a sin- 
 gle man; he seemed to be Deerslayer, and no 
 Iroquois.” 
 
 “ Deerslayer ! ” returned the other, with much 
 of her native impetuosity. “That can’t be! 
 Deerslayer is a prisoner, and I have been think- 
 ing of the means of setting him free. Why did 
 you fancy it Deerslayer, child ? ” 
 
 “You can look for yourself, sister; there 
 comes the canoe in sight again, on this side of 
 the hut.” 
 
 Sure enough, the light boat had passed the 
 building, and was now steadily advancing tow- 
 ard the ark ; the persons on board of which were 
 already collecting in the head of the scow to re- 
 ceive their visitor. A single glance sufficed to 
 assure Judith that her sister was right, and that 
 Deerslayer was alone in the canoe. His approach 
 was so calm and leisurely, however, as to fill her 
 with wonder, since a man who had effected his 
 escape from enemies, by either artifice or vio- 
 lence, would not be apt to move with the steadi- 
 ness and deliberation with which his paddle swept 
 the water. Ey this time the day was fairly de- 
 parting, and objects were already seen dimly un- 
 der the shores. In the broad lake, however, the 
 light still lingered, and around the immediate 
 scene of the present incidents, which was less 
 shaded than most of the sheet, being in its broad- 
 est part, it cast a glare that bore some faint re- 
 semblance to the warm tints of an Italian or 
 Grecian sunset. The logs of the hut and ark had 
 a sort of purple hue, blended with the growing 
 obscurity, and the bark of the hunter’s boat was 
 losing its distinctness, in colors richer, but more 
 mellowed, than those it showed under a bright 
 sun. As the two canoes approached each other 
 — for Judith and her sister had plied their pad- 
 dles so as to intercept the unexpected visitor ere 
 he reached the ark — even Deerslayer’s sunburnt 
 countenance wore a brighter aspect than com- 
 mon, under the pleasing tints that seemed to 
 dance in the atmosphere. Judith fancied that 
 
THE HUNTER’S FURLOUGH. 
 
 167 
 
 delight at meeting her had some share in this un- 
 usual and agreeable expression. She was not 
 aware that her own beauty appeared to more ad- 
 vantage than common, from the same natural 
 cause ; nor did she understand, what it would 
 have given her so much pleasure to know, that 
 the young man actually thought her, as she drew 
 near, the loveliest creature of her sex, his eyes 
 had ever dwelt on. 
 
 “ Welcome — welcome, Deerslayer ! ” exclaimed 
 the girl as the canoes floated at each other’s 
 sides; “we have had a melancholy — a fright- 
 ful day — but your return is, at least, one mis- 
 fortune the less. Have the Hurons become more 
 humane and let you go, or have you escaped 
 from the wretches by your own courage and 
 skill?” 
 
 “Neither, Judith — neither one nor t’other. 
 The Mingoes are Mingoes still, and will live and die 
 Mingoes ; it is not likely their natur’s will ever 
 undergo much improvement. Well, they’ve their 
 gifts, and we’ve our’n, Judith, and it doesn’t 
 much become either to speak ill of what the Lord 
 has created ; though, if the truth must be said, I 
 find it a sore trial to think kindly or to talk kind- 
 ly of them vagabonds. As for outwitting them, 
 that might have been done, and it was done, too, 
 atween the Sarpent, yonder, and me, when we 
 were on the trail of Hist — ” here the hunter 
 stopped to laugh in his own silent fashion — “ but 
 it’s no easy matter to sarcumvent the sarcum- 
 vented. Even the fa’ans get to know the tricks 
 of the hunters afore a single season is over ; and 
 an Injin, whose eyes have once been opened by 
 a sarcumvention, never shuts them ag’in in pre- 
 cisely the same spot. I’ve known whites to do 
 that, but never a red-skin. What they l’arn 
 comes by practice, and not by books ; and, of all 
 school-masters, exper’ence gives lessons that are 
 the longest remembered.” 
 
 “ All this is true, Deerslayer ; but if you have 
 not escaped from the savages, how came you 
 here ? ” 
 
 “ That’s a nat’ral question, and charmingly 
 put. You are wonderful handsome this evening, 
 Judith, or Wild Rose, as the Sarpent calls you, 
 and I may as well say it, since I honestly think 
 it. You may well call them Mingoes savages, too, 
 for savage enough do they feel, and savage enough 
 will they act, if you once give them an opportu- 
 nity. They feel their loss here, in the late scrim- 
 mage, to their hearts’ cores, and are ready to re- 
 venge it on any creatur’ of English blood that 
 may fall in their way. Nor, for that matter, do 
 I much think they will stand at taking their sat- 
 isfaction out of a Dutchman.” 
 
 “ They have killed father ; that ought to sat- 
 isfy their wicked cravings for blood,” observed 
 Hetty, reproachfully. 
 
 “ I know it, gal — I know the whole story — 
 partly from what I’ve seen from the shore, since 
 they brought me up from the point, and partly 
 from their threats ag’in myself, and their other 
 discourse. Well, life is unsartain at the best, and 
 we all depend on the breath of our nostrils for 
 it, from day to day. If you’ve lost a stanch 
 fri’nd, as I make no doubt you have, Providence 
 will raise up new ones in his stead ; and since 
 our acquaintance has begun in this oncommon 
 manner, I shall take it as a hint that it will be a 
 part of my duty in futur’, should the occasion of- 
 fer, to see you don’t suffer for want of food in the 
 wigwam. I can’t bring the dead to life, but as to 
 feeding the living, there’s few on all this frontier 
 can outdo me, though I say it in the way of pity 
 and consolation like, and, in no particular, in the 
 way of boasting.” 
 
 “ We understand you, Deerslayer,” returned 
 Judith hastily, “ and take all that falls from your 
 lips, as it is meant, in kindness and friendship. 
 Would to Heaven all men had tongues as true, 
 and hearts as honest ! ” 
 
 “In that respect men do differ, of a sartainty, 
 Judith. I’ve known them that wasn’t to be 
 trusted any further than you can see them ; and 
 others ag’in whose messages, sent with a small 
 piece of wampum, perhaps, might just as much 
 be depended on, as if the whole business was 
 finished afore your face. Yes, Judith, you never 
 said truer words, than when you said some men 
 might be depended on, and some others might 
 not.” 
 
 “You are an unaccountable being, Deerslay- 
 er,” returned the girl, not a little puzzled with 
 the childish simplicity of character that the hunt- 
 er so often betrayed — a simplicity so striking, 
 that it frequently appeared to place him nearly 
 on a level with the fatuity of poor Hetty, though 
 always relieved by the beautiful moral truth that 
 shone through all that this unfortunate girl both 
 said and did. “ You are a most unaccountable 
 man, and I often do not know how to understand 
 you. But never mind, just now ; you have forgot- 
 ten to tell us by what means you are here.” 
 
 “ I ! — oh ! That’s not very onaccountable, if 
 I am myself, Judith. I’m out on furlough.” 
 
 “ Furlough ! — That word has a meaning among 
 the soldiers that I understand ; I cannot tell what 
 it signifies when used by a prisoner.” 
 
 “It means just the same. You’re right 
 enough ; the soldiers do use it, and just in the 
 same way as I use it. A furlough is when a man 
 
168 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 has leave to quit a camp, or a garrison, for a sar- 
 tain specified time ; at the end of which he is to 
 come back and shoulder his musket, or submit to 
 his torments, just as he may happen to be a sol- 
 dier or a captyve. Being the last, I must take the 
 chances of a prisoner.” 
 
 “ Have the Hurons suffered you to quit them 
 m this manner, without watch or guard ? ” 
 
 “ Sartain — I couldn’t have come in any other 
 manner, unless, indeed, it had been by a bold ris- 
 ing, or a sarcumvention.” 
 
 “ What pledge have they that you will ever 
 return ? ” 
 
 “My word,” answered the hunter, simply. 
 “ Yes, I own I gave ’em that , and big fools would 
 they have been to let me come without it ! Why, 
 in that case, I shouldn’t have been obliged to go 
 back and ondergo any deviltries their fury may 
 invent, but might have shouldered my rifle, and 
 made the best of my way to the Delaware villages. 
 But, Lord ! Judith, they know’d this, just as well 
 as you and I do, and would no more let me come 
 away, without a promise to go back, than they 
 would let the wolves dig up the bones of their 
 fathers ! ” 
 
 “ Is it possible you mean to do this act cf ex- 
 traordinary self-destruction and recklessness ? ” 
 
 “ Anan ! ” 
 
 “ I ask if it can be possible that you expect to 
 be able to put yourself again in the power of such 
 ruthless enemies, by keeping your word ? ” 
 
 Deerslayer looked at his fair questioner for a 
 moment with stern displeasure. Then the ex- 
 pression of his honest and guileless face suddenly 
 changed, lighting as by a quick illumination of 
 thought ; after which he laughed in his ordinary 
 manner. 
 
 “ 1 didn’t understand you, at first, Judith ; no, 
 I didn’t. You believe that Chingachgook and 
 Hurry Harry won’t suffer it ; but you don’t know 
 mankind thoroughly yet, I see. The Delaware 
 would be the last man on ’arth to offer any objec- 
 tions to what he knows is a duty ; and, as for 
 March, he doesn’t care enough about any crea- 
 tur’ but himself to spend many words on such a 
 subject. If he did, ’twould make no great differ- 
 ence, howsever ; but not he — for he thinks more 
 of his gains than of even his own word. As 
 for my promises, or your’n, Judith, or any- 
 body else’s, they give him no consarn. Don’t 
 be under any oneasiness, therefore, gal ; I shall 
 be allowed to go back according to the fur- 
 lough ; and if difficulties was made, I’ve not 
 been brought up, and edicated, as one may say, 
 in the woods, without knowing how to look ’em 
 down.” 
 
 Judith made no answer for some little tima 
 All her feelings as a woman — and as a woman 
 who, for the first time in her life, was beginning 
 to submit to that sentiment which has so much 
 influence on the happiness or misery of her sex- 
 revolted at the cruel fate that she fancied Deer- 
 slayer was drawing down upon himself, while the 
 sense of right, which God has implanted in every 
 human breast, told her to admire an integrity as 
 indomitable and unpretending as that which the 
 other so unconsciously displayed. Argument, 
 she felt, would be useless ; nor was she, at that 
 moment, disposed to lessen the dignity and high 
 principle that were so striking in the intentions 
 of the hunter, by any attempt to turn him from 
 his purpose. That something might yet occur to 
 supersede the necessity for this self-immolation, 
 she tried to hope ; and then she proceeded to as- 
 certain the facts, in order that her own conduct 
 might be regulated by her knowledge of circum- 
 stances. 
 
 “ When is your furlough out, Deerslayer ? ” 
 she asked, after both canoes were heading toward 
 the ark, and moving, with scarcely a perceptible 
 effort of the paddles, through the water. 
 
 “To-morrow noon; not a minute afore; and 
 you may depend on it, Judith, I sha’n’t quit what 
 I call Christian company, to go and give myself 
 up to them vagabonds, an instant sooner than 
 is downright necessary. They begin to fear a 
 visit from the garrisons, and wouldn’t lengthen 
 the time a moment; and it’s pretty well under- 
 stood atween us, that, should I fail in my ar’n’d, 
 the torments are to take place when the sun be- 
 gins to fall, that they may strike upon their home- 
 trail as soon as it is dark.” 
 
 This was said solemnly, as if the thought of 
 what was believed to be in reserve duly weighed 
 on the prisoner’s mind, and yet so simply, and 
 without a parade of suffering, as rather to repel 
 than to invite any open manifestations of sympa- 
 thy. 
 
 “ Are they bent on revenging their losses ? ” 
 Judith asked, faintly, her own high spirit yield- 
 ing to the influence of the other’s quiet but dig- 
 fied integrity of purpose. 
 
 “Downright, if I can judge of Injin inclina- 
 tions by the symptoms. They think, howsever, I 
 don’t suspect their designs, I do believe ; but one 
 that has lived so long among men of red-skin 
 gifts is no more likely to be misled in Injin feelin’s 
 than a true hunter is like to lose his trail, or a 
 stanch hound his scent. My own judgment is 
 greatly ag’in my own escape ; for I see the wom- 
 en are a good deal enraged on behalf of Hist, 
 though I say it, perhaps, that shouldn’t sav it— 
 
JUDITH’S GIFT. 
 
 169 
 
 ieein’ that I had a considerable hand myself in 
 getting the gal off. Then there was a cruel mur- 
 der in their camp last night, and that shot might 
 just as well have been fired into my breast. 
 Howsever, come what will, the Sarpent and his 
 wife will be safe, and that is some happiness, in 
 any case.” 
 
 “0 Deerslayer, they will think better of 
 this, since they have given you until to-morrow 
 noon to make up your mind ! ” 
 
 “ I judge not, Judith ; yes, I judge not. An 
 Injin is an Injin, gal, and it’s pretty much hope- 
 less to think of swarving him, when he’s got the 
 scent and follows it with his nose in the air. The 
 Delawares, now, are a half-Christianized tribe-^- 
 not that I think such sort of Christians much 
 better than your whole-blooded disbelievers— but, 
 nevertheless, what good half-Christianizing can do 
 to a man some among ’em have got, and yet re- 
 venge clings to their hearts like the wild creepers 
 hereto the tree! Then I slew one of the best 
 and boldest of their warriors, they say, and it is 
 too much to expect that they should captivate the 
 man who did this deed, in the very same scouting 
 on which it was performed, and they take no ac- 
 count of the matter. Had a month or so gone 
 by, their feelin’s would have been softened down, 
 and we might have met in a more friendly way ; 
 but it is as it is. Judith, this is talking of noth- 
 ing but myself and my own consams, when you 
 have had trouble enough, and may want to con- 
 sult a fri’nd a little about your own matters. Is 
 the old man laid in the water, where I should 
 think his body would like to rest ? ” 
 
 “ It is, Deerslayer,” answered Judith, almost 
 inaudibly. “ That duty has just been performed. 
 You are right in thinking that I wish to consult a 
 friend ; and that friend is yourself. Hurry Har- 
 ry is about to leave us ; when he is gone, and we 
 have got a little over the feelings of this solemn 
 office, I hope you will give me an hour alone. 
 Hetty and I are at a loss what to do.” 
 
 “ That’s quite natural, coming as things have, 
 suddenly and fearfully. But here’s the ark, and 
 we’ll say more of this when there is a better op- 
 portunity.” 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 “ The windo is gitat upon the highest hilles ; 
 
 The quiet life is in the dale below ; 
 
 "Who tread on ice shall slide against their willes ; 
 
 They want not cares, that curious arts should know ; 
 
 Who lives at ease and can content him so, 
 
 Is perfect wise, and sets us all to schoole ; 
 
 Who hates this lore may well be called a foole.” 
 
 Churchyard. 
 
 The meeting between Deerslayer and his friends 
 in the ark was grave and anxious. The two In- 
 dians, in particular, read in his manner that he 
 was not a successful fugitive, and a few senten- 
 tious words sufficed to let them comprehend the 
 nature of what their friend had termed his 
 “ furlough.” Chingachgook immediately became 
 thoughtful; while Hist, as usual, had no better 
 mode of expressing her sympathy than by those 
 little attentions which mark the affectionate man- 
 ner of woman. 
 
 In a few minutes, however, something like a 
 general plan for the proceedings of the night was 
 adopted, and, to the eye of an uninstructed ob- 
 server, things would be thought to move in their 
 ordinary train. It was now getting to be dark, 
 and it was decided to sweep the ark up to the 
 castle, and secure it in its ordinary berth. This 
 decision was come to, in some measure, on ac- 
 count of the fact that all the canoes were again in 
 the possession of their proper owners, but princi- 
 pally from the security that was created by the 
 representations of Deerslayer. He had examined 
 the state of things among the Hurons, and felt 
 satisfied that they meditated no further hostilities 
 during the night, the loss they had met having in- 
 disposed them to further exertions for the mo- 
 ment. Then he had a proposition to make — the 
 object of his visit ; and, if this were accepted, the 
 war would at once terminate between the parties ; 
 and it was improbable that the Hurons would an- 
 ticipate the failure of a project on which their 
 chiefs had apparently set their hearts, by having 
 recourse to violence previously to the return of 
 their messenger. 
 
 As soon as the ark was properly secured, the 
 different members of the party occupied them- 
 selves in their several peculiar manners ; haste in 
 council, or in decision, no more characterizing the 
 proceedings of the border whites, than it did 
 those of their red neighbors. The women busied 
 themselves in preparations for the evening meal, 
 sad and silent, but ever attentive to the first 
 wants of Nature. 
 
 Hurry set about repairing his moccasins, by 
 the light of a blazing knot ; Chingachgook seated 
 
170 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 himself in gloomy thought; while Deerslayer pro- 
 ceeded, in a manner equally free from affectation 
 and concern, to examine “ Killdeer,” the rifle of 
 Hutter, that has been already mentioned, and 
 which subsequently became so celebrated in the 
 hands of the individual who was now making a 
 survey of its merits. The piece was a little longer 
 than usual, and had evidently been turned out 
 from the workshop of some manufacturer of a su- 
 perior order. It had a few silver ornaments ; 
 though, on the whole, it would have been deemed 
 a plain piece by most frontier-men; its great 
 merit consisting in the accuracy of its bore, the 
 perfection of the details, and the excellence of the 
 metal. Again and again did the hunter apply the 
 breech to his shoulder, and glance his eye along 
 the sights, and as often did he poise his body, and 
 raise the weapon slowly, as if about to catch an 
 aim at a deer, in order to try the weight, and to 
 ascertain its fitness for quick and accurate firing. 
 All this was done by the aid of Hurry’s torch, 
 simply, but with an earnestness and abstraction 
 that would have been found touching by any 
 spectator who happened to know the real situ- 
 ation of the man. 
 
 “’Tis a glorious we’pon, Hurry!” Deerslayer 
 at length exclaimed, “and it maybe thought a 
 pity that it has fallen into the hands of women. 
 The hunters have told me of its expl’ites, and, by 
 all I have heard, I should set it down as sartain 
 death in exper’enced hands. Hearken to the tick 
 of this lock — a wolf-trap hasn’t a livelier spring ; 
 pan and cock speak together, like two singing- 
 masters undertaking a psalm in meetin’. I never 
 did see so true a bore, Hurry, that’s sartain.” 
 
 “ Ay, old Tom used to give the piece a charac- 
 ter, though he wasn’t the man to particularize the 
 ra’al natur’ of any sort of fire-arms in practice,” 
 returned March, passing the deer’s thongs through 
 the moccasin with the coolness of a cobbler. 
 “ He was no mai'ksman, that we must all allow ; 
 but he had his good p’ints as well as his bad ones. 
 I have had hopes that Judith might consait the 
 idee of giving Killdeer to me.” 
 
 “ There’s no saying what young women may 
 do, that’s a truth, Hurry; and I suppose you’re 
 as likely to own the rifle as another. Still, when 
 things are so very near perfection, it’s a pity not 
 to reach it entirely.” 
 
 “ What do you mean by that ? W ould not that 
 piece look as well on my shoulder as on any man’s ? ” 
 
 “As for looks, I say nothing. You are both 
 good-looking, and might make what is called a 
 good-looking couple. But the true p’int is as to 
 conduct. More deer would fall in one day, by 
 that piece, in some men’s hands, than would fall 
 
 in a week in your’n, Hurry ! I’ve seen you try ; 
 you remember the buck, t’other day ? ” 
 
 “That buck was out of season; and who 
 wishes to kill venison out of season? I was 
 merely trying to frighten the creatur’, and I think 
 you will own that he was pretty well sheared at 
 any rate.” 
 
 “Well, well, have it as you say. But this is 
 a lordly piece, and would make a steady hand and 
 quick eye the King of the Woods.” 
 
 “ Then keep it, Deerslayer, and become King 
 of the Woods,” said Judith, earnestly, who had 
 heard the conversation, and whose eye was never 
 long averted from the honest countenance of the 
 hunter. “ It can never be in better hands than it 
 is at this moment ; there I hope it will remain 
 these fifty years.” 
 
 “ Judith, you can’t be in ’arnest ! ” exclaimed 
 Deerslayer, taken so much by surprise, as to be- 
 tray more emotion than it was usual for him to 
 manifest on ordinary occasions. “Such a gift 
 would be fit for a ra’al king to make ; yes, and 
 for a ra’al king to receive.” 
 
 “ I never was more in earnest in my life, Deer- 
 slayer, and I am as much in earnest in the wish as 
 in the gift.” 
 
 “ Well, gal, well ; we’ll find time to talk of 
 this ag’in. — You mustn’t be down-hearted, Hurry, 
 for Judith is a sprightly young woman, and she 
 has a quick reason ; she known that the credit of 
 her father’s rifle is safer in my hands than it can 
 possibly be in your’n ; and, therefore, you mustn’t 
 be down-hearted. In other matters, more to your 
 liking, too you’ll find she’ll give you the prefer- 
 ence.” 
 
 Hurry growled out his dissatisfaction ; but he 
 was too intent on quitting the lake, and in making 
 his preparations, to waste his breath on a subject 
 of this nature. Shortly after, the supper was 
 ready ; it was eaten in silence, as is so much the 
 habit of those who consider the table as merely a 
 place of animal refreshment. On this occasion, 
 however, sadness and thought contributed their 
 share to the general desire not to converse ; for 
 Deerslayer was so far an exception to the usages 
 of men of his cast, as not only to wish to hold 
 discourse on such occasions, but as often to create 
 a similar desire in his companions. 
 
 The meal ended, and the humble preparations 
 removed, the whole party assembled on the plat- 
 form to hear the expected intelligence from Deer- 
 slayer on the subject of his visit. It had been 
 evident he was in no haste to make his communi- 
 cations ; but the feelings of Judith would no lon- 
 ger admit of delay. Stools were brought from 
 the ark and the hut, and the whole six placeo 
 
A MESSAGE FROM THE HURONS. 
 
 171 
 
 themselves in a circle, near the door, watching 
 each other’s countenances, as best they could, by 
 the scanty means that were furnished by a lovely 
 starlight night. Along the shore, beneath the 
 mountains, lay the usual body of gloom ; but in 
 the broad lake no shadow was cast, and a thousand 
 mimic stars were dancing in the limpid element, 
 that was just stirred enough by the evening air to 
 set them all in motion. 
 
 “ Now, Deerslayer,” commenced Judith, whose 
 impatience resisted further restraint ; “now, Deer- 
 slayer, tell us all the Hurons have to say, and the 
 reason why they have sent you on parole, to make 
 us some offer.” 
 
 “Furlough, Judith — furlough is the word 
 and it carries the same meaning with a captyve 
 at large as it does with a soldier who has leave to 
 quit his colors. In both cases the word is passed 
 to come back : and now I remember to have heard 
 that’s the ra’al signification, ‘ furlough ’ meaning 
 a * word ’ passed for the doing of any thing, or the 
 like. Parole, I rather think, is Dutch, and has 
 something to do with the tattoos of the garrisons. 
 But this makes no great difference, since the var- 
 tue of a pledge lies in the idee, and not the word. 
 Well, then, if the message must be given, it must ; 
 and perhaps there is no use in putting it off. 
 Hurry will soon be wanting to set out on his jour- 
 ney to the river, and the stars rise and set, just as 
 if they cared for neither Injin nor message. Ah’s 
 me ! ’tisn’t a pleasant, and I know it’s a useless 
 ar’n’d ; but it must be told.” 
 
 “ Harkee, Deerslayer,” put in Hurry, a little 
 authoritatively ; “ you’re a sensible man in a hunt, 
 and as good a fellow on a march as a sixty-miler- 
 a-day could wish to meet with ; but you’re on- 
 common slow about messages, especially them 
 that you think won’t be likely to be well received. 
 When a thing is to be told, why, tell it, and don’t 
 hang back like a Yankee lawyer pretending he 
 can’t understand a Dutchman’s English, just to 
 get a double fee out of him.” 
 
 “ I understand you, Hurry, and well are you 
 named to-night, seeing you’ve no time to lose. 
 But let us come at once to the p’int, seeing that’s 
 the object of this council ; for council it may be 
 called, though women have seats among us. The 
 simple fact is this : When the party came back 
 from the castle, the Mingoes held a council, and 
 bitter thoughts were uppermost, as was plainly to 
 be seen by their gloomy faces. No one likes to be 
 beaten, and a red-skin as little as a pale-face. 
 Well, when they had smoked upon it, and made 
 their speeches, and their council-fire had burnt 
 /ow, the matter came out. It seems the elders 
 among ’em consaited I was a man to be trusted 
 
 on a furlough. They’re wonderful obsarvant, 
 them Mingoes ; that their worst inimies must allow ; 
 but they consaited I was such a man ; and it isn’t 
 often — ” added the hunter, with a pleasing con- 
 sciousness that his previous life justified this im- 
 plicit reliance on his good faith — “ it isn’t often 
 they consait any thing so good of a pale-face ; 
 but so they did with me, and therefore they didn’t 
 hesitate to speak their minds, which is just this : 
 You see the state of things. The lake and all on 
 it, they fancy, lie at their marcy. Thomas Hutter 
 is deceased, and as for Hurry, they’ve got the idee 
 he has been near enough to death to-day not to 
 wish to take another look at him this summer. 
 Therefore they count all your forces as reduced to 
 Chingachgook and the two young women, and, 
 while they know the Delaware to be of a high 
 race, and a born warrior, they know he’s now on 
 his first war-path. As for the gals, of course 
 they set them down much as they do women in 
 gin’ral.” 
 
 “ You mean that they despise us ! ” interrupted 
 Judith, with eyes that flashed so brightly as to be 
 observed by all present. 
 
 “That will be seen in the ind. They hold 
 that all on the lake lies at their marcy, and, there- 
 fore, they send by me this belt of wampum,” 
 showing the article in question to the Delaware, 
 as he spoke, “ with these words : ‘ Tell the Sar- 
 pent,’ they say, ‘ that he has done well for a begin- 
 ner ; he may now strike across the mountains, for 
 his own villages, and no one shall look for his 
 trail. If he has found a scalp, let him take it 
 with him ; the Huron braves have hearts, and can 
 feel for a young warrior who doesn’t wish to go 
 home empty-handed. If he is nimble, he is wel 
 come to lead out a party in pursuit. Hist, how- 
 ever, must go back to the Hurons ; when she left 
 them in the night, she carried away, by mistake, 
 that which doesn’t belong to her.’ ” 
 
 “ That can't be true ! ” said Hetty, earnestly. 
 “ Hist is no such girl — but one that gives every- 
 body his due — ” 
 
 How much more she would have said, in re- 
 monstrance, cannot be known, inasmuch as Hist, 
 partly laughing, and partly hiding her face in 
 shame, put her own hand across the speaker’s 
 mouth, in a way to check the words. 
 
 “You don’t understand Mingo messages, poor 
 Hetty,” resumed Deerslayer, “ which seldom mean 
 what lies exactly uppermost. Hist has brought 
 away with her the inclinations of a young Huron, 
 and they want her back again, that the poor young 
 man may find them where he last saw them ! The 
 Sarpent, they say, is too promising a young war- 
 rior not to find as many wives as he wants, bu; 
 
172 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 this one he cannot have. That’s their meaning, 
 and nothing else, as I understand it.” 
 
 “ They are very obliging and thoughtful, in 
 supposing a young woman can forget all her own 
 inclinations in order to let this unhappy youth 
 find his ! ” said Judith, ironically ; though her 
 manner became more bitter as she proceeded : 
 “ I suppose a woman is a woman, let her color be 
 white or red ; and your chiefs know little of a 
 woman’ s heart, Deerslayer, if they think it can 
 ever forgive when wronged, or ever forget when 
 it fairly loves.” 
 
 “ I suppose that’s pretty much the truth, with 
 some women, Judith, though I’ve known them 
 that could do both. The next message is to you. 
 They say the Muskrat, as they call your father, 
 has dove to the bottom of the lake ; and he will 
 never come up again, and that his young will 
 soon be in want of wigwams if not of food. The 
 Huron huts, they think, are better than the huts 
 of York ; they wish you to come and try them. 
 Your color is white, they own, but they think 
 young women who’ve lived so long in the woods, 
 would lose their way in the clearin’s. A great 
 warrior among them has lately lost his wife, and 
 he would be glad to put the Wild Rose on her 
 bench at his fireside. As for the Feeble-Mind, 
 6he will always be honored and taken care of by 
 red warriors. Your father’s goods, they think, 
 ought to go to enrich the tribe ; but your own 
 property, which is to include every thing of a fe- 
 male natur’, will go, like that of all wives, into 
 the wigwam of the husband. Moreover, they’ve 
 lost a young maiden by violence, lately, and ’twill 
 take two pale-faces to fill her seat.” 
 
 “ And do you bring such a message to me? ” 
 exclaimed Judith, though the tone in which the 
 words were uttered had more in it of sorrow 
 than of anger. “ Am I a girl to be an Indian’s 
 slave ? ” 
 
 “If you wish my honest thoughts on this 
 p’int, Judith, I shall answer that I don’t think 
 you’ll willingly ever become any man’s slave, red- 
 skin or white. You’re not to think hard, hows- 
 ever, of my bringing the message, as near as I 
 could, in the very words in which it was given to 
 me. Them was the conditions on which I got 
 my furlough, and a bargain is a bargain, though 
 it is made with a vagabond. I’ve told you what 
 they've said, but I’ve not yet told you what I 
 think you ought, one and all, to answer.” 
 
 “Ay; let’s hear that, Deerslayer,” put in 
 Hurry. “ My cur’osity is up on that considera- 
 tion, and I should like right well to hear your 
 ’dees of the reasonableness of the reply. For my 
 Dart, though, my own mind is pretty much settled 
 
 on the p’int of my own answer, which shall be 
 made known as soon as necessary. 
 
 “ And so is mine, Hurry, on all the different 
 heads, and on no one is it more sartainly settled 
 than on your’n. If I was you, I should say : 
 ‘ Deerslayer, tell them scamps they don’t know 
 Harry March ! He is human ; and having a white 
 skin he has also a white natur’, which natur’ 
 won’t let him desart females of his own race and 
 gifts, in their greatest need. So set me down as one 
 that will refuse to come into your treaty, though 
 you should smoke a hogshead of tobacco over it.’ ” 
 
 March was a little embarrassed at this rebuke, 
 which was uttered with sufficient warmth of man- 
 ner, and with a point that left no doubt of the 
 meaning. Had Judith encouraged him, he would 
 not have hesitated about remaining to defend her 
 and her sister, but, under the circumstances, a 
 feeling of resentment rather urged him to abandon 
 them. At all events, there was not a sufficiency 
 of chivalry in Hurry Harry to induce him to haz- 
 ard the safety of his own person, unless he could 
 see a direct connection between the probable con- 
 sequences and his own interests. It is no won- 
 der, therefore, that his answer partook equally 
 of his intention, and of the reliance he so boast- 
 ingly placed on his gigantic strength, which, if 
 it did not always make him courageous, usually 
 made him impudent as respects those with whom 
 he conversed : 
 
 “ Fair words make long friendships, Master 
 Deerslayer,” he said, a little menacingly. “ You’re 
 but a stripling, and you know, by exper’ence, 
 what you are in the hands of a man. As you’re 
 not me, but only a go-between, sent by the sav- 
 ages to us Christians, you may tell your empl’v- 
 ers that they do not know Harry March, which is 
 a proof of their sense as well as his. He’s human 
 enough to follow human natur’, and that tells him 
 to see the folly of one man’s fighting a whole 
 tribe. If females desart him, they must expect 
 to be desarted by him, whether they’re of his own 
 gifts or another man’s gifts. Should Judith see 
 fit to change her mind, she’s welcome to my com- 
 pany to the river, and Hetty with her; but 
 shouldn’t she come to this conclusion, I start as 
 soon as I think the enemy’s scouts are beginning 
 to nestle themselves in among the brush and leaves 
 for the night.” 
 
 “ Judith will not change her mind, and she 
 does not ask your company, Master March,” re- 
 turned the girl, with spirit. 
 
 “That p’int’s settled, then,” resumed Deer- 
 slayer, unmoved by the other’s warmth. “ Hur- 
 ry Harry must act for himself, and do that which 
 will be most likely to suit his own fancy. Thu 
 
WAH-TA !-WAH’S ANSWER. 
 
 173 
 
 course he means to take will give him an easy 
 race, if it don’t give him an easy conscience. Next 
 comes the question with Hist — what say you, gal ? 
 — will you desart your duty, too, and go back to 
 the Mingoes and take a Huron husband ; and all, 
 not for the love of the man you’re to marry, but 
 for the love of your own scalp ? ” 
 
 “ Why you talk so to Hist ? ” demanded the 
 girl, half offended. “ You t’ink a red-skin girl made 
 like captain’s lady, to laugh and joke with any 
 officer that come.” 
 
 “ What I think, Hist, is neither here nor there, 
 In this matter. I must carry back your answer, 
 and, in order to do so, it is necessary that you 
 should send it. A faithful messenger gives his 
 ar’n’d word for word.” 
 
 Hist no longer hesitated to speak her mind 
 fully. In the excitement she rose from her bench, 
 and, naturally recurring to that language in which 
 she expressed herself the most readily, she deliv- 
 ered her thoughts and intentions, beautifully and 
 with dignity, in the tongue of her own people. 
 
 “ Tell the Hurons, Deerslayer,” she said, “ that 
 they are as ignorant as moles ; they don’t know 
 the wolf from the dog. Among my people, the 
 rose dies on the stem where it budded ; the tears 
 of the child fall on the graves of its parents ; the 
 corn grows where the seed has been planted. 
 The Delaware girls are not messengers, to be sent, 
 like belts of wampum, from tribe to tribe. They 
 are honeysuckles, that are sweetest in their own 
 woods ; their own young men carry them away in 
 their bosoms, because they are fragrant ; they are 
 sweetest when plucked from their native stems. 
 Even the robin and the marten come back, year 
 after year, to their old nests ; shall a woman be 
 less true-hearted than a bird ? Set the pine in 
 the clay, and it will turn yellow ; the willow will 
 not flouilsh on the hill; the tamarack is healthi- 
 est in the swamp ; the tribes of the sea love best 
 to hear the winds that blow over the salt water. 
 As for a Huron youth, what is he to a maiden of 
 the Lenni-Lenape ? He may be fleet, but her 
 eyes do not follow him in the race ; they look 
 back toward the lodges of the Delawares. He 
 may sing a sweet song for the girls of Canada, but 
 there is no music for Wah, but in the tongue she 
 has listened to from childhood. Were the Huron 
 born of the people that once roamed the shores 
 of the salt lake, it would be in vain, unless he 
 were of the family of Uncas. The young pine 
 will rise to be as high as any of its fathers. Wah- 
 ta!-Wah has but one heart, and it can love but 
 one husband.” 
 
 Deerslayer listened to this characteristic mes- 
 sage, which was given with an earnestness suited 
 
 to the feelings from which it sprang, with undis* 
 guised delight ; meeting the ardent eloquence of 
 the girl, as she concluded, with one of his own 
 heart-felt, silent, and peculiar fits of laughter. 
 
 “ That’s worth all the wampum in the woods ! ” 
 he exclaimed. — “ You don’t understand it, I sup- 
 pose, Judith; but if you’ll look into your feel 
 in’s, and fancy that an inimy had sent to tell you 
 to give up the man of your ch’ice, and to take up 
 with another that wasn’t the man of your ch’ice, 
 you’ll get the substance of it, I’ll warrant ! Give 
 me a woman for ra’al eloquence, if they’ll only 
 make up their minds to speak what they feel . 
 By speakin’, I don’t mean chatterin’, howsever ; 
 for most of them will do that by the hour ; but 
 cornin’ out with their honest, deepest feelin’s, in 
 proper words. And now, Judith, having got the 
 answer of a red-skin girl, it is fit that I should get 
 that of a pale-face, if, indeed, a countenance that 
 is as blooming as your’n can in any wise so be 
 tarmed. You are well named the Wild Rose, 
 and, so far as color goes, Hetty ought to be called 
 the Honeysuckle.” 
 
 “ Did this language come from one of the gar- 
 rison gallants, I should deride it, Deerslayer ; 
 but coming from you , I know it can be depended 
 on,” returned Judith, deeply gratified by his un- 
 meditated and characteristic compliments. “ It 
 is too soon, however, to ask my answer ; the 
 Great Serpent has not yet spoken.” 
 
 “ The Sarpent ? Lord ! I could carry back his 
 speech without hearing a word of it ! I didn’t 
 think of putting the question to him at all, I will 
 allow ; though ’twould be hardly right either, see- 
 ing that truth is truth, and I’m bound to tell 
 these Mingoes the fact, and nothing else. — So, 
 Chingachgook, let us hear your mind on this mat- 
 ter — are you inclined to strike across the hills 
 toward your village, to give up Hist to a Huron, 
 and to tell the chiefs at home that, if they’re 
 actyve and successful, they may possibly get on 
 the end of the Iroquois trail some two or three 
 days a’ter the inimy has got off of it ? n 
 
 Like his betrothed, the young chief arose, 
 that his answer might be given with due dis- 
 tinctness and dignity. Hist had spoken with her 
 hands crossed upon her bosom, as if to suppress 
 the emotions within ; but the warrior stretched an 
 arm before him, with a calm energy that aided in 
 giving emphasis to his expressions. 
 
 “Wampum should be sent for wampum,” ho 
 said ; “ a message must be answered by a mes 
 sage. Hear what the Great Serpent of the Dela 
 wares has to say to the pretended wolves from 
 the great lakes that are howling through our 
 woods. They are no wolves ; they are dogs that 
 
174 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 have come to get their tails and ears cropped by 
 the hands of the Delawares. They are good at 
 stealing young women : bad at keeping them. 
 Chingachgook takes his own where he finds it ; 
 he asks leave of no cur from the Canadas. If he 
 has a tender feeling in his heart, it is no busi- 
 ness of the Hurons. He tells it to her who most 
 likes to know it ; he will not bellow it in the for- 
 est for the ears of those that only understand 
 yells of terror. What passes in his lodge is not 
 for the chiefs of his o\tn people to know ; still 
 less for Mingo rogues — ” 
 
 “Call ’em vagabonds, Sarpent,” interrupted 
 Deerslayer, unable to restrain his delight — “ yes, 
 just call ’em up-and-down vagabonds, which is a 
 word easily intarpreted, and the most hateful to 
 all their ears, it’s so true. Never fear me ; I’ll 
 give ’em your message syllable for syllable, sneer 
 for sneer, idee for idee, scorn for scorn — and they 
 deserve no better at your hands. Only call ’em 
 vagabonds once or twice, and that will set the sap 
 mounting in ’em from their lowest roots to the 
 uppermost branches.” 
 
 “ Still less for Mingo vagabonds ! ” resumed 
 Chingachgook, quite willingly complying with his 
 friend’s request. “ Tell the Huron dogs to howl 
 louder if they wish a Delaware to find them in the 
 woods, where they burrow like foxes, instead of 
 hunting like warriors. When they had a Dela- 
 ware maiden in their camp, there was a reason 
 for hunting them up ; now they will be forgotten 
 unless they make a noise. Chingachgook don’t 
 like the trouble of going to his villages for more 
 warriors ; he can strike their runaway trail; un- 
 less they hide it underground, he will follow it to 
 Canada alone. He will keep Wah-ta !-Wah with 
 him to cook his game ; they two will be Dela- 
 wares enough to scare all the Hurons back to 
 their own country.” 
 
 “ That’s a grand dispatch, as the officers call 
 them things ! ” cried Deerslayer ; “ ’twill set all 
 the Huron blood in motion; most particularly 
 that part where he tells ’em Hist, too, will keep 
 on their heels till they’re fairly driven out of the 
 country. Ah’s me ! big words ar’n’t always big 
 deeds notwithstanding. The Lord send that we 
 be able to be only one half as good as we promise 
 to be! — And now, Judith, it’s your turn to speak, 
 for them miscreants will expect an answer from 
 each person, poor Hetty, perhaps, excepted.” 
 
 “ And why not Hetty, Deerslayer ? She often 
 speaks to the purpose ; the Indians may respect her 
 words, for they feel for people in her condition.” 
 
 “ That is true, Judith, and quick-thoughted in 
 you. The red-skins do respect misfortunes of all 
 kinds, and Hetty’s in particular. — So, Hetty, if 
 
 you have any thing to say, I’ll carry it to the Hu- 
 rons as faithfully as if it was spoken by a school- 
 master or a missionary.” 
 
 The girl hesitated a moment, and then she an- 
 swered in her own gentle, soft tones, as earnestly 
 as any who had preceded her. 
 
 “ The Hurons can’t understand the difference 
 between white people and themselves,” she said, 
 “ or they wouldn’t ask Judith and me to go and 
 live in their villages. God has given one country 
 to the red men, and another to us. He meant us 
 to live apart. Then mother always said that we 
 should never dwell with any but Christians if 
 possible, and that is a reason why we can’t go. 
 This lake is ours, and we won’t leave it. Fa- 
 ther’s and mother’s graves are in it, and even the 
 worst Indians love to stay near the graves of 
 their fathers. I will come and see them again, 
 if they wish me to, and read more out of the Bible 
 to them, but I can’t quit father’s and mother’s 
 graves.” 
 
 “ That will do — that will do, Hetty, just as 
 well as if you sent them a message twice as long,’’ 
 interrupted the hunter. “ I’ll tell ’em all you’ve 
 said, and all you mean, and I’ll answer for it that 
 they’ll be easily satisfied. — Now, Judith, your 
 turn comes next, and then this part of my ar’n’d 
 will be tarminated for the night.” 
 
 Judith manifested a reluctance to give her 
 reply, that had awakened a little curiosity in the 
 messenger. Judging from her known spirit, he 
 had never supposed the girl would be less true to 
 her feelings and principles than Hist or Hetty ; 
 and yet there was a visible wavering of purpose 
 that rendered him slightly uneasy. — Even now, 
 when directly required to speak, she seemed to 
 hesitate ; nor did she open her lips until the pro- 
 found silence told her how anxiously her words 
 were expected. Then, indeed, she spoke, but it 
 was doubtingly and with reluctance. 
 
 “ Tell me, first — tell us , first, Deerslayer,” 
 she commenced, repeating the words merely to 
 change the emphasis— “ what effect will our an- 
 swers have on your fate ? If you are to be the 
 sacrifice of our spirit, it would have been better 
 had we all been more wary as to the language we 
 use. What, then, are likely to be the conse- 
 quences to yourself? ” 
 
 “Lord, Judith, you might as well ask me 
 which way the wind will blow next week, or what 
 will be the age of the next deer that will be shot ! 
 I can only say that their faces look a little dark 
 upon me, but it doesn’t thunder every time a 
 black cloud rises, nor does every puff of wind 
 blow up rain. That’s a question, therefore, much 
 more easily put than answered.” 
 
MARCH’S DEPARTURE. 
 
 175 
 
 “ So is this message of the Iroquois to me,” 
 answered Judith, rising, as if she had determined 
 on her own course for the present. “ My answer 
 shall be given, Deerslayer, after you and I have 
 talked together alone, when the others have laid 
 themselves down for the night.” 
 
 There was a decision in the manner of the girl 
 that disposed Deerslayer to comply, and this he 
 did the more readily as the delay could produce 
 no material consequences one way or the other. 
 The meeting now broke up, Hurry announcing 
 his resolution to leave them speedily. During the 
 hour that was suffered to intervene, in order that 
 the darkness might deepen before the frontier- 
 man took his departure, the different individuals 
 occupied themselves in their customary modes, 
 the hunter, in particular, passing most of the 
 time in making further inquiries into the per- 
 fection of the rifle already mentioned. 
 
 The hour of nine soon arrived, however, and 
 then it had been determined that Hurry should 
 commence his journey. Instead of making his 
 adieus frankly and in a generous spirit, the little 
 he thought it necessary to say was uttered sul- 
 lenly and in coldness. Resentment at what he 
 considered Judith’s obstinacy, was blended with 
 mortification at the career he had run since reach- 
 ing the lake ; and, as is usual with the vulgar and 
 narrow-minded, he was more disposed to reproach 
 others with his failures than to censure himself. 
 Judith gave him her hand, but it was quite as 
 much in gladness as with regret, while the two 
 Delawares were not sorry to find he was leaving 
 them. Of the whole party, Hetty alone betrayed 
 any real feeling. Bashfulness and the timidity 
 of her sex and character, kept even her aloof, so 
 that Hurry entered the canoe, where Deerslayer 
 was already waiting for him, before she ventured 
 near enough to be observed. Then, indeed, the 
 girl came into the ark, and approached its end 
 just as the little bark was turning from it with a 
 movement so light and steady as to be almost 
 imperceptible. An impulse of feeling now over- 
 came her timidity, and Hetty spoke. 
 
 “ Good-by, Hurry ” — she called out in her 
 sweet voice — “ good-by, dear Hurry. Take care 
 of yourself in the woods, and don’t stop once till 
 you reach the garrison. The leaves on the trees 
 are scarcely plentier than the Hurons round the 
 iake, and they’d not treat a strong man like you 
 as kindly as they treat me.” 
 
 The ascendency which March had obtained 
 over this feeble-minded but right-thinking and 
 right-feeling girl, arose from a law of Nature. 
 Her senses had been captivated by his personal 
 advantages ; and her moral communications with 
 
 12 
 
 him had never been sufficiently intimate to coun- 
 teract an effect that must have, been otherwise 
 lessened, even with one whose mind was as ob- 
 tuse as her own. Hetty’s instinct of right, if such 
 a term can be applied to one who seemed taught 
 by some kind spirit how to steer her course with 
 unerring accuracy between good and evil, would 
 have revolted at Hurry’s character, on a thou- 
 sand points, had there been opportunities to en- 
 lighten her ; but while he conversed and trifled 
 with her sister, at a distance from herself, his 
 perfection of form and feature had been left to 
 produce their influence on her simple imagina- 
 tion and naturally tender feelings, without suffer- 
 ing by the alloy of his opinions and coarseness. 
 It is true, she found him rough and rude ; but 
 her father was that, and most of the other men 
 she had seen ; and that which she believed to 
 belong to all of the sex, struck her less unfavor- 
 ably in Hurry’s character, than it might otherwise 
 have done. Still, it was not absolutely love that 
 Hetty felt for Hurry, nor do we wish so to por- 
 tray it, but merely that awakening sensibility and 
 admiration, which, under more propitious circum- 
 stances, and always supposing no untoward revela- 
 tions of character on the part of the young man 
 had supervened to prevent it, might soon have 
 ripened into that engrossing feeling. She felt for 
 him an incipient tenderness, but scarcely any pas- 
 sion. Perhaps the nearest approach to the latter 
 that Hetty had manifested, was to be seen in the 
 sensitiveness which had caused her to detect 
 March’s predilection for her sister ; for, among 
 Judith’s many admirers, this was the only in- 
 stance in which the dull mind of the girl had 
 been quickened into an observation of the cir- 
 cumstance. 
 
 Hurry received so little sympathy at his de- 
 parture, that the gentle tones of Hetty, as she 
 thus called after him, sounded soothingly. He 
 checked the canoe, and, with one sweep of his 
 powerful arm, brought it back to the side of the 
 ark. This was more than Hetty, whose courage 
 had risen with the departure of our hero, expect- 
 ed, and she now shrank timidly back at his un- 
 expected return. 
 
 “ You’re a good gal, Hetty, and I can’t quit 
 you without shaking hands,” said March, kindly. 
 “ Judith, a’ter all, isn’t worth as much as you, 
 though she may be a trifle better-looking. As to 
 wits, if honesty and fair-dealing with a young man 
 is a sign of sense in a young woman, you’re worth 
 a dozen Judiths ; ay, and for that matter, most 
 young women of my acquaintance.” 
 
 “ Don’t say any thing against Judith, Harry,” 
 returned Hetty, imploringly. “Father’s gone, and 
 
176 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 mother’s gone, and nobody’s left but Judith and 
 me, and it isn’t right for sisters to speak evil, or 
 to hear evil, of each other. Father’s in the lake, 
 and so is mother, and we should all fear God, 
 for we don’t know when we may be in the lake, 
 too.” 
 
 “ That sounds reasonable, child, as does most 
 you say. Well, if we ever meet again, Hetty, 
 you’d find a fri’nd in me, let your sister do what 
 she may. I was no great fri’nd of your mother, 
 I’ll allow, for we didn’t think alike on most p’ints ; 
 but then your father, old Tom, and I, fitted each 
 other as remarkably as a buckskin garment will 
 fit any reasonable-built man. I’ve always been 
 unanimous of opinion that old Floating Tom Hut- 
 ter, at the bottom, was a good fellow, and will 
 maintain that ag’in all inimies for his sake, as 
 well as for your’n.” 
 
 “ Good-by, Hurry,” said Hetty, who now want- 
 ed to hasten the young man off, as ardently as 
 she had wished to keep him only the moment 
 before, though she could give no clearer account 
 of the latter than of the former feeling — “ good- 
 by, Hurry ; take care of yourself in the woods ; 
 don’t halt till you reach the garrison. I’ll read 
 a chapter in the Bible for you, before I go to bed, 
 and think of you in my prayers.” 
 
 This was touching a point on which March 
 had no sympathies, and without more words he 
 shook the girl cordially by the hand, and reen- 
 tered the canoe. In another minute the two ad- 
 venturers were a hundred feet from the ark, and 
 half a dozen had not elapsed before they were 
 completely lost to view. Hetty sighed deeply, 
 and rejoined her sister and Hist. 
 
 For some time Deerslayer and his companion 
 paddled ahead in silence. It had been determined 
 to land Hurry at the precise point where he is 
 represented, in the commencement of our tale, as 
 having embarked ; not only as a place little like- 
 ly to be watched by the Hurons, but because he 
 was sufficiently familiar with the signs of the 
 woods, at that spot, to thread his way through 
 them in the dark. Thither, then, the light craft 
 proceeded, being urged as diligently and as swift- 
 ly as two vigorous and skilful canoe-men could 
 force their little vessel through, or rather over , 
 the water. Less than a quarter of an hour suf- 
 ficed for the object ; and, at the end of that time, 
 being within the shadows of the shore, and quite 
 near the point they sought, each ceased his ef- 
 forts in order to make their parting communica- 
 tions out of ear-shot of any straggler who might 
 happen to be in the neighborhood. 
 
 “ You will do well to persuade the officers at 
 the garrison to lead out a party ag’in these vaga- 
 
 bonds, as soon as you get in, Hurry,” Deerslayer 
 commenced ; “ and you’ll do better if you volun- 
 teer to guide it up yourself. You know the paths, 
 and the shape of the lake, and the natur’ of the 
 land, and can do it better than a common, gin’r- 
 alizing scout. Strike at the Huron camp first, 
 and follow the signs that will then show them- 
 selves. A few looks at the hut and the ark will 
 satisfy you as to the state of the Delaware and 
 the women ; and, at any rate, there’ll be a fine 
 opportunity to fall on the Mingo trail, and to 
 make a mark on the memories of the blackguards 
 that they’ll be apt to carry with ’em a long time. 
 It won’t be likely to make much difference with me, 
 since that matter will be detarmined afore to-mor- 
 row’s sun has set ; but it may make a great change 
 in Judith and Hetty’s hopes and prospects ! ” 
 
 “ And as for yourself, Nathaniel,” Hurry in- 
 quired with more interest than he was accustomed 
 to betray in the welfare of others — “ and as for 
 yourself, what do you think is likely to turn 
 up ? ” 
 
 “ The Lord, in his wisdom, only, can tell, Hen- 
 ry March ! The clouds look black and threaten- 
 ing, and I keep my mind in a state to meet the 
 worst. Vengeful feelin’s are uppermost in the 
 hearts of the Mingoes, and any little disapp’int- 
 ment about the plunder, or the prisoners, or 
 Hist, may make the torments sartain. The Lord, 
 in his wisdom, can only detarmine my fate, or 
 your’n ! ” 
 
 “ This is a black business, and ought to be 
 put a stop to, in some way or other,” answered 
 Hurry, confounding the distinctions between right 
 and wrong, as is usual with selfish and vulgar 
 men. “ I heartily wish old Hutter and I had 
 scalped every creatur’ in their camp, the night 
 we first landed with that capital object! Had 
 you not held back, Deerslayer, it might have 
 been done ; then you wouldn’t have found your- 
 self, at the last moment, in the desperate condi- 
 tion you mention.” 
 
 “ ’Twould have been better had you said, you 
 wished you had never attempted to do what it 
 little becomes any white man’s gifts to undertake ; 
 in which case, not only might we have kept from 
 coming to blows, but Thomas Hutter would now 
 have been living, and the hearts of the savages 
 would be less given to vengeance. The death 0; 
 that young woman, too, was oncalled for, Henry 
 March, and leaves a heavy load on our names, if 
 not on our consciences ! ” 
 
 This was so apparent, and it seemed so ob- 
 vious to Hurry himself, at the moment, that he 
 dashed his paddle into the water, and began to 
 urge the canoe toward the shore, as if bent only 
 
EXAMINATION OF HUTTER’S CHEST. 
 
 177 
 
 on running away from his own lively remorse. 
 His companion humored this feverish desire for 
 change, and, in a minute or two, the bows of the 
 boat grated lightly on the shingle of the beach. 
 To land, shoulder his pack and rifle, and to get 
 ready for his march, occupied Hurry but an in- 
 stant, and, with a growling adieu, he had already 
 commenced his march, when a sudden twinge of 
 feeling brought him to a dead stop, and immedi- 
 ately after to the other’s side. 
 
 “ You cannot mean to give yourself up ag’in 
 to them murdering savages, Deerslayer!” he 
 said, quite as much in angry remonstrance as 
 with generous feeling. “ ’Twould be the act of a 
 madman or a fool 1” 
 
 “ There’s them that thinks it madness to keep 
 their words, and there’s them that don’t, Hurry 
 Harry. You may be one of the first, but I’m one 
 of the last. No red-skin breathing shall have it 
 in his power to say that a Mingo minds his word 
 more than a man of white blood and white gifts, 
 in any thing that consarns me. I’m out on a 
 furlough, and, if I’ve strength and reason, I’ll go 
 It on a furlough afore noon to-morrow ! ” 
 
 “ What’s an Injin, or a word passed, or a fur- 
 lough taken from creatur’s like them, that have 
 neither souls nor names ? ” 
 
 “ /f they’ve neither souls nor names, you and 
 I have both, Harry March, and one is account- 
 able for the other. This furlough is not, as you 
 seem to think, a matter altogether at ween me 
 and the Mingoes, seeing it is a solemn bargain 
 made atween me and God. He who thinks that 
 he can say what he pleases, in his distress, and 
 that ’twill all pass for nothing, because ’tis ut- 
 tered in the forest, and into red men’s ears, 
 knows little of his situation, and hopes, and 
 wants. The words are said to the ears of the 
 Almighty. The air is his breath, and the light 
 of the sun is little more than a glance of his eye. 
 Farewell, Harry ; we may not meet ag’in ; but I 
 would wish you never to treat a furlough, or any 
 other solemn thing that your Christian God has 
 been called on to witness, as a duty so light that 
 it may be forgotten according to the wants of 
 the body, or even according to the cravings of 
 the spirit.” 
 
 March was now glad again to escape. It was 
 quite impossible that he could enter into the sen- 
 timents that ennobled his companion, and he 
 broke away from both with an impatience that 
 caused him secretly to curse the folly that could 
 nduce a man to rush, as it were, on his own de- 
 struction. Deerslayer, on the contrary, mani- 
 fested no such excitement. Sustained by his 
 principles, inflexible in the purpose of acting up 
 12 
 
 to them, and superior to any unmanly apprehen- 
 sion, he regarded all before him as a matter of 
 course, and no more thought of making any un- 
 worthy attempt to avoid it, than a Mussulman 
 thinks of counteracting the decrees of Provi- 
 dence. He stood calmly on the shore, listening 
 to the reckless tread with which Hurry betrayed 
 his progress through the bushes, shook his head 
 in dissatisfaction at the want of caution, and 
 then stepped quietly into his canoe. Before he 
 dropped the paddle again into the water, the 
 young man gazed about him at the scene pre- 
 sented by the starlit night. This was the spot 
 where he had first laid his eyes on the beautiful 
 sheet of water on which he floated. If it was 
 then glorious in the bright light of summer’s 
 noontide, it was now sad and melancholy under 
 the shadows of night. The mountains rose 
 around it, like black barriers to exclude the out- 
 er world ; and the gleams of pale light that rested 
 on the broader parts of the basin were no bad 
 symbols of the faintness of the hopes that were 
 so dimly visible in his own future. Sighing 
 heavily, he pushed the canoe from the land, and 
 took his way back, with steady diligence, toward 
 the ark and the castle. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 “ Thy secret pleasures turned to open shame ; 
 
 Thy private feasting to a public fast ; 
 
 Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name ; 
 
 Thy sugared tongue to bitter wormwood taste ; 
 
 Thy violent vanities can never last.” 
 
 Rape op Ltjcbece. 
 
 Judith was waiting the return of Deerslayer, 
 on the platform, with stifled impatience, when the 
 latter reached the hut. Hist and Hetty were both 
 in a deep sleep, on the bed usually occupied by 
 the two daughters of the house, and the Dela- 
 ware was stretched on the floor of the adjoining 
 room, his rifle at his side, and a blanket over 
 him, already dreaming of the events of the last 
 few days. There was a lamp burning in the ark ; 
 for the family was accustomed to indulge in this 
 luxury on extraordinary occasions, and possessed 
 the means, the vessel being of a form and mate- 
 rial to render it probable it had once been an 
 occupant of the chest. 
 
 As soon as the girl got a glimpse of the canoe, 
 she ceased her hurried walk up and down the 
 platform, and stood ready to receive the young 
 man, whose return she had now been anxiously 
 expecting for some time. She helped him to fast- 
 en the canoe, and by aiding in the other little 
 
178 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 similar employments, manifested her desire to 
 reach a moment of liberty as soon as possible. 
 When this was done, in answer to an inquiry of 
 his she informed him of the manner in which 
 their companions had disposed of themselves. 
 He listened attentively ; for the manner of the 
 girl was so earnest and impressive as to apprise 
 him that she had something on her mind of more 
 than common concern. 
 
 “And now, Deerslayer,” Judith continued, 
 “ you see I have lighted the lamp, and put it in 
 the cabin of the ark. That is never done with 
 us, unless on great occasions, and I consider this 
 night as the most important of my life. Will you 
 follow me and see what I have to show you — 
 hear what I have to say ? ” 
 
 The hunter was a little surprised ; but mak- 
 ing no objections, both were soon in the scow, 
 and in the room that contained the light. Here 
 two stools were placed at the side of the chest, 
 with the lamp on another, and a table near by to 
 receive the different articles as they might be 
 brought to view. This arrangement had its rise 
 in the feverish impatience of the girl, which could 
 brook no delay that it was in her power to obvi- 
 ate. Even all the padlocks were removed, and it 
 only remained to raise the heavy lid, and to expose 
 the treasures of this long-secreted hoard. 
 
 “I see, in part, what all this means,” ob- 
 served Deerslayer, “ yes, I see through it, in part. 
 But why is not Hetty present? Now Thomas 
 Hutter is gone, she is one of the owners of these 
 cur’osities, and ought to see them opened and 
 handled.” 
 
 “Hetty sleeps,” answered Judith, hastily. 
 “ Happily for her, fine clothes and riches have no 
 charms. Besides, she has this night given her 
 share of all that the chest may hold, to me, that 
 I may do with it as I please.” 
 
 “ Is poor Hetty composs enough for that, Ju- 
 dith ? ” demanded the just-minded young man. 
 “ It’s a good rule, and a righteous one, never to 
 take when those that give don’t know the valie 
 of their gifts ; and such as God has visited heavi- 
 ly in their wits, ought to be dealt with as care- 
 fully as children that haven’t yet come to their 
 understandings.” 
 
 Judith was hurt at this rebuke, coming from 
 the person it did ; but she would have felt it far 
 more keenly, had not her conscience fully ac- 
 quitted her of any unjust intentions toward her 
 feeble-minded but confiding sister. It was not a 
 moment, however, to betray any of her usual 
 mountings of the spirit, and she smothered the 
 passing sensation in the desire to come to the 
 great object she had in view. 
 
 “ Hetty will not be wronged,” she mildly an- 
 swered ; “ she even knows, not only what I am 
 about to do, Deerslayer, but why I do it. So take 
 your seat, raise the lid of the chest, and this time 
 we will go to the bottom. I shall be disappointed 
 if something is not found to tell us more of the 
 history of Thomas Hutter and my mother.” 
 
 “Why Thomas Hutter, Judith, and not your 
 father ? The dead ought to meet with as much 
 reverence as the living ! ” 
 
 “ I have long suspected that Thomas Hutter 
 was not my father, though I did think he might 
 have been Hetty’s ; but now we know he was 
 the father of neither. He acknowledged that 
 much in his dying moments. I am old enough to 
 remember better things than we have seen on 
 this lake, though they are so faintly impressed on 
 my memory, that the earlier part of my life seems 
 like a dream.” 
 
 “ Dreams are but miserable guides when one 
 has to detarmine about realities, Judith,” returned 
 the other, admonishingly. “ Fancy nothing and 
 hope nothing on their account; though I’ve 
 known chiefs that thought ’em useful.” 
 
 “ I expect nothing for the future from them, 
 my good friend, but cannot help remembering 
 what has been. This is idle, however, when half 
 an hour of examination may tell us all, or even 
 more than I want to know.” 
 
 Deerslayer, who comprehended the girl’s im- 
 patience, now took his seat, and proceeded once 
 more to bring to light the different articles that 
 the chest contained. As a matter of course, all 
 that had been previously examined were found 
 where they had been last deposited; and they 
 excited much less interest or comment than when 
 formerly exposed to view. Even Judith laid aside 
 the rich brocade with an air of indifference, for 
 she had a far higher aim before her than the in- 
 dulgence of vanity, and was impatient to come at 
 the still hidden, or rather unknown, treasures. 
 
 “ All these we have seen before,” she said, 
 “ and will not stop to open. The bundle under 
 your hand, Deerslayer, is a fresh one; that we 
 will look into. God send it may contain some 
 thing to tell poor Hetty and myself who we really 
 are ! ” 
 
 “Ay, if some bundles could speak, they 
 might tell wonderful secrets,” returned the young 
 man, deliberately undoing the folds of another 
 piece of coarse canvas, in order to come at the 
 contents of the roll that lay on his knees; 
 “ though this doesn’t seem to be one of that fam* 
 ilv, seeing ’tis neither more nor less than a sort 
 of flag ; though of what nation, it passes mv 
 rainin’ to say.” 
 
A SAD HISTORY. 
 
 179 
 
 “ That flag must have some meaning to it,” 
 Judith hurriedly interposed. “ Open it wider, 
 Deerslayer, that we may see the colors.” 
 
 “Well, I pity the ensign that has to shoulder 
 this cloth, and to parade it about in the field. 
 Why, ’tis large enough, Judith, to make a dozen 
 of them colors the king’s officers set so much 
 fltore by. These can be no ensign’s colors, but 
 ft gin’ral’s ! ’ 
 
 “ A ship might carry it, Deerslayer ; and ships 
 I know do use such things. Have you never 
 heard any fearful stories about Thomas Hutter’s 
 having once been concerned with the people they 
 call buccaneers ? ” 
 
 “ Buck-and-near ! Not I — - not I — I never 
 heard him mentioned as good at a buck far off, 
 or near by. Hurry Harry did tell me something 
 about its being supposed that he had formerly, in 
 some way or other, dealings with sartain sea- 
 robbers ; but, Lord, Judith, it can’t surely give 
 you any satisfaction to make out that ag’in your 
 mother’s own husband, though he isn’t your 
 father?” 
 
 “Any thing will give me satisfaction that 
 tells me who I am, and helps to explain the 
 dreams of childhood. My mother’s husband ! 
 Yes, he must have been that, though why a wom- 
 an like her should have chosen a man like Aim, 
 is more than mortal reason can explain. You 
 never saw mother, Deerslayer, and can’t feel the 
 vast, vast difference there was between them ! ” 
 
 “ Such things do happen, howsever — yes, they 
 do happen; though why Providence lets them 
 come to pass, is more than I understand. I’ve 
 knew the fercest warriors with the gentlest wives 
 of any in the tribe, and awful scolds fall to the 
 lot of Injins fit to be missionaries.” 
 
 “ That was not it, Deerslayer ; that was not 
 it. Oh ! if it should prove that — no ; I cannot 
 wish she should not have been his wife at all. 
 That no daughter can wish for her own mother ! 
 Go on, now, and let us see what the square-look- 
 ing bundle holds.” 
 
 Deerslayer complied, and he found that it con- 
 tained a small trunk of pretty workmanship, but 
 fastened. The next point was to find a key ; but 
 search proving ineffectual, it was determined to 
 force the lock. This Deerslayer soon effected by 
 the aid of an iron instrument, and it was found 
 that the interior was nearly filled with papers. 
 Many were letters ; some fragments of manu- 
 scripts, memorandums, accounts, and other simi- 
 lar documents. The hawk does not pounce upon 
 the chicken with a more sudden swoop than Judith 
 sprang forward to seize this mine of hitherto con- 
 cealed knowledge. Her education, as the reader 
 
 will have perceived, was far superior to her situ- 
 ation in life, and her eye glanced over page af- 
 ter page of the letters, with a readiness that 
 her schooling supplied, and with an avidity that 
 found its origin in her feelings. At first, it was 
 evident that the girl was gratified, and, we may 
 add, with reason ; for the letters, written by fe- 
 males, in innocence and affection, were of a char- 
 acter to cause her to feel proud of those with 
 whom she had every reason to think she was 
 closely connected by the ties of blood. It does 
 not come within the scope of our plan to give 
 more of these epistles, however, than a general 
 idea of their contents, and this will best be done 
 by describing the effect they produced on the 
 manner, appearance, and feeling of her who was 
 so eagerly perusing them. 
 
 It has been said, already, that Judith was 
 much gratified with the letters that first met her 
 eye. They contained the correspondence of an 
 affectionate and intelligent mother to an absent 
 daughter, with such allusions to the answers as 
 served, in a great measure, to fill up the vacuum 
 left by the replies. They were not without ad- 
 monitions and warnings, however, and Judith 
 felt the blood mounting to her temples, and a 
 cold shudder succeeding, as she read one in which 
 the propriety of the daughter’s indulging in as 
 much intimacy, as had evidently been described 
 in one of the daughter’s own letters, with an 
 officer “ who came from Europe, and who could 
 hardly be supposed to wish to form an honorable 
 connection in America,” was rather coldly com- 
 mented on by the mother. What rendered it sin- 
 gular, was the fact that the signatures had been 
 carefully cut from every one of these letters, and 
 wherever a name occurred in the body of the 
 epistles, it had been erased with so much dili- 
 gence as to render it impossible to read it. They 
 had all been enclosed in envelopes, according to 
 the fashion of the age, and not an address either 
 was to be found. Still, the letters themselves had 
 been religiously preserved, and Judith thought 
 she could discover traces of tears remaining on 
 several. She now remembered to have seen the 
 little trunk in her mother’s keeping, previously 
 to her death, and she supposed it had first been 
 deposited in the chest, along with the other for- 
 gotten or concealed objects, when the letters 
 could no longer contribute to that parent’s grief 
 or happiness. 
 
 Next came another bundle, and these were 
 filled with the protestations of love, written with 
 passion certainly, but also with that deceit which 
 men so often think it justifiable to use to the 
 other sex. Judith had shed tears abundantly 
 
180 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 over tlie first packet, but now she felt a senti- 
 ment of indignation and pride better sustaining 
 her. Her hand shook, however, and cold shivers 
 again passed through her frame, as she discov- 
 ered a few points of strong resemblance between 
 these letters and some it had been her own fate 
 to receive. Once, indeed, she laid the packet 
 down, bowed her head to her knees, and seemed 
 nearly convulsed. All this time, Deerslayer sat a 
 silent but attentive observer of every thing that 
 passed. As Judith read a letter, she put it into 
 his hands to hold, until she could peruse the 
 next ; but this seemed in no degree to enlighten 
 her companion, as he was totally unable to read. 
 Nevertheless, he was not entirely at fault in dis- 
 covering the passions that were contending in the 
 bosom of the fair creature by his side, and, as 
 occasional sentences escaped her in murmurs, he 
 was nearer the truth, in his divinations or con- 
 jectures, than the girl would have been pleased 
 at discovering. 
 
 Judith had commenced with the earliest let- 
 ters, luckily for a ready comprehension of the tale 
 they told; for they were carefully arranged in 
 chronological order, and, to any one who would 
 take the trouble to peruse them, would have re- 
 vealed a sad history of gratified passion, coldness, 
 and, finally, of aversion. As she obtained the 
 clew to their import, her impatience could not 
 admit of delay, and she soon got to glancing her 
 eyes over a page, by way of coming at the truth 
 in the briefest manner possible. By adopting 
 this expedient, one to which all who are eager to 
 arrive at results, without encumbering themselves 
 with details, are so apt to resort, Judith made a 
 rapid progress in this melancholy revelation of 
 her mother’s failings and punishment. She saw 
 that the period of her own birth was distinctly 
 referred to, and even learned that the homely 
 name she bore was given her by the father of 
 whose person she retained so faint an impression 
 as to resemble a dream. This name was not ob- 
 literated from the text of the letters, but stood as 
 if nothing was to be gained by erasing it. Het- 
 ty’s birth was mentioned once, and in that in- 
 stance the name was the mother’s ; but ere this 
 period was reached came the signs of coldness, 
 shadowing forth the desertion that was so soon 
 to follow. It was in this stage of the correspond- 
 ence that her mother had recourse to the plan of 
 copying her own epistles. They were but few, 
 but were eloquent with the feelings of blighted 
 affection and contrition. Judith sobbed over 
 them until again and again she felt compelled to 
 lay them aside, from sheer physical inability to 
 see, her eyes being literally obscured with tears. 
 
 Still she returned to the task, with increasing 
 interest, and finally succeeded in reaching the end 
 of the last communication that had probably ever 
 passed between her parents. 
 
 All this occupied fully an hour ; for near a 
 hundred letters were glanced at, and some twenty 
 had been closely read. The truth now shone 
 clear upon the acute mind of Judith, so far as her 
 own birth and that of Hetty were concerned. She 
 sickened at the conviction, and, for the moment, 
 the rest of the world seemed to be cut off from 
 her, and she had now additional reasons for wish- 
 ing to pass the remainder of her life on the lake, 
 where she had already seen so many bright and 
 so many sorrowing days. 
 
 There yet remained more letters to examine. 
 Judith found these were a correspondence between 
 her mother and Thomas Hovey. The originals 
 of both parties were carefully arranged, letter and 
 answer, side by side; and they told the early his- 
 tory of the connection between the ill-assorted pair 
 far more plainly than Judith wished to learn it. 
 Her mother made the advances toward a marriage, 
 to the surprise, not to say horror, of her daughter ; 
 and she actually found a relief when she dis- 
 covered traces of what struck her as insanity, or 
 a morbid disposition, bordering on that dire ca- 
 lamity, in the earlier letters of that ill-fated woman. 
 The answers of Hovey were coarse and illiterate, 
 though they manifested a sufficient desire to ob- 
 tain the hand of a woman of singular personal 
 attractions, and whose great error he was willing 
 to overlook, for the advantage of possessing one 
 every way so much his superior, and who, it also 
 appeared, was not altogether destitute of money. 
 The remainder of this part of the correspondence 
 was brief ; and it was soon confined to a few com- 
 munications on business, in which the miserable 
 wife hastened the absent husband in his prepara- 
 tions to abandon a world which there was a 
 sufficient reason to think was as dangerous to one 
 of the parties as it was disagreeable to the other. 
 But a single expression had escaped her mother, 
 by which Judith could get a clew to the motives 
 that had induced her to marry Hovey, or Hutter; 
 and this she found was that feeling of resentment 
 which so often tempts the injured to inflict wrongs 
 on themselves, by way of heaping coals on th« 
 heads of those through whom they have suffered. 
 Judith had enough of the spirit of that mother to 
 comprehend this sentiment, and for a moment did 
 she see the exceeding folly which permitted such 
 revengeful feelings to get the ascendency. 
 
 There, what may be called the historical part 
 of the papers ceased. Among the loose fragments, 
 however, was an old newspaper that contained a 
 
THE COLONIAL GOVERNOR’S PROCLAMATION. 
 
 181 
 
 proclamation offering a reward for the apprehen- 
 sion of certain freebooters by name, among which 
 was that of Thomas Hovey. The attention of the 
 girl was drawn to the proclamation, and to this 
 particular name, by the circumstance that black 
 lines had been drawn under both in ink. Noth- 
 ing else was found among the papers that could 
 lead to a discovery of either the name or the place 
 of residence of the wife of Hutter. All the dates, 
 signatures, and addresses, had been cut from the 
 letters, and wherever a word occurred in the body 
 of the communications that might furnish a clew, 
 it was scrupulously erased. Thus Judith found 
 all her hopes of ascertaining who her parents 
 were, defeated, and she was obliged to fall back 
 on her own resources and habits for every thing 
 connected with the future. Her recollection of 
 her mother’s manners, conversation, and suffer- 
 ings, filled up many a gap in the historical facts 
 she had now discovered ; and the truth in its out- 
 lines stood sufficiently distinct before her to take 
 away all desire, indeed, to possess any more 
 details. Throwing herself back in her seat, she 
 simply desired her companion to finish the ex- 
 amination of the other articles in the chest, as it 
 might yet contain something of importance. 
 
 “I’ll do it, Judith — I’ll do it,” returned the 
 patient Deerslayer; “but if there’s many more 
 letters to read, we shall see the sun ag’in afore 
 you’ve got through with the reading of them! 
 Two good houi’s have you been looking at them 
 bits of papers ! ” 
 
 “ They tell me of my parents, Deerslayer, and 
 have settled my plans for life. A girl may be 
 excused, who reads about her own father and 
 mother, and that too for the first time in her life ! 
 I am sorry to have kept you waiting.” 
 
 “Never mind me, gal; never mind me. It 
 matters little whether I sleep or watch ; but 
 though you be pleasant to look at, and are so 
 handsome, Judith, it is not altogether agreeable 
 to sit so long to behold you shedding tears. I 
 know that tears don’t kill, and that some people 
 are better for shedding a few now and then, espe- 
 cially women ; but I’d rather see you smile any 
 time, Judith, than see you weep.” 
 
 This gallant speech was rewarded with a sweet 
 though a melancholy smile; and then the girl 
 again desired her companion to finish the exami- 
 nation of the chest. The search necessarily con- 
 tinued some time, during which Judith collected 
 her thoughts and regained her composure. She 
 took no part in the search, leaving every thing to 
 the young man, looking listlessly herself, at the 
 different articles that came uppermost. Nothing 
 further of much interest or value, however, was 
 
 found. A sword or two, such as were then worn 
 by gentlemen, some buckles of silver, or so richly 
 plated as to appear silver, and a few handsome 
 articles of female dress, composed the principal 
 discoveries. It struck both Judith and the Deer- 
 slayer, notwithstanding, that some of these things 
 might be made useful in effecting a negotiation 
 with the Iroquois, though the latter saw a dif- 
 ficulty in the way that was not so apparent to the 
 former. The conversation was first renewed in 
 connection with this point. 
 
 “And now, Deerslayer,” said Judith, “ we may 
 talk of yourself, and of the means of getting you 
 out of the hands of the Hurons. Any part, or 
 all of what you have seen in the chest, will be 
 cheerfully given by me and Hetty to set you at 
 liberty.” 
 
 “Well, that’s ginerous — yes, ’tis downright 
 free-hearted, and free-handed and ginerous. This 
 is the way with women ; when they take up a 
 fri’ndship, they do nothing by halves, but are as 
 willing to part with their property as if it had no 
 valie in their eyes. Howsever, while I thank you 
 both, just as much as if the bargain was made, 
 and Rivenoak, or any of the other vagabonds, was 
 here to accept and close the treaty, there’s two 
 principal reasons why it can never come to pass? 
 which may be as well told at once, in order no 
 onlikely expectations may be raised in you, or 
 any onjustifiable hopes in me.” 
 
 “ What reason can there be, if Hetty and I 
 are willing to part with the trifles for your sake, 
 and the savages are willing to receive them ? ” 
 
 “ That’s it, Judith — you’ve got the idees, but 
 they’re a little out of their places, as if a hound 
 should take the back’ard instead of the leading 
 scent. That the Mingoes will be willing to re- 
 ceive them things, or any more like ’em, you may 
 have to offer, is probable enough ; but whether 
 they’ll pay valie for ’em is quite another matter. 
 Ask yourself, Judith, if any one should send you 
 a message to say that, for such or such a price, 
 you and Hetty might have that chist and all it 
 holds, whether you’d think it worth your while to 
 waste many words on the bargain ? ” 
 
 “ But this chest and all it holds are already 
 ours ; there is no reason why we should purchase 
 what is already our own.” 
 
 “ Just so the Mingoes calculate ! They say 
 the chist is theirs already ; or as good as theirs, 
 and they’ll not thank anybody for the key.” 
 
 “ I understand you, Deerslayer ; surely we are 
 yet in possession of the lake, and we can keep pos- 
 session of it until Hurry sends troops to drive off 
 the enemy. This we may certainly do, provided 
 you will stay with us, instead of going back and 
 
182 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 giving yourself up a prisoner again, as you now 
 seem determined on.” 
 
 “ That Hurry Harry should talk in this way, 
 is natr’al and according to the gifts of the man. 
 He knows no better, and, therefore, he is little 
 likely to feel or to act any better ; but, Judith, I 
 put it to your heart and conscience — would you, 
 could you think of me as favorably as I hope and 
 believe you now do, was I to forget my furlough 
 and not go back to the camp ? ” 
 
 “ To think more favorably of you than I now 
 do, Deerslayer, would not be easy ; but I might 
 continue to think as favorably — at least it seems 
 so — I hope I could ; for a world wouldn’t tempt 
 me to let you do any thing that might change my 
 real opinion of you.” 
 
 “ Then don’t try to entice me to overlook my 
 furlough, gal! A furlough is a sacred thing 
 among warriors, and men that carry their lives in 
 their hands, as we of the forests do ; and what a 
 grievous disapp’intment would it be to old Tame- 
 nund, and to Uncas, the father of the Sarpent, and 
 to my other fri’nds in the tribe, if I was so to dis- 
 grace myself on my very first war-path ? This you 
 will parceive, moreover, Judith, is without laying 
 any stress on nat’ral gifts, and a white man’s du- 
 ties, to say nothing of conscience. The last is king 
 with me, and I try never to dispute his orders.” 
 
 “I believe you are right, Deerslayer,” re- 
 turned the girl, after a little reflection, and in a 
 saddened voice ; “ a man like yon ought not to 
 act as the selfish and dishonest would be apt to 
 act ; you must, indeed, go back. We will talk no 
 more of this, then ; should I persuade you to any 
 thing for which you would be sorry hereafter, my 
 own regret would not be less than yours. You 
 
 shall not have it to say, Judith 1 scarce 
 
 know by what name to call myself, now ! ” 
 
 “And why not? — why not, gal? Children 
 take the names of their parents nat’rally and by 
 a sort of gift, like ; and why shouldn’t you and 
 Hetty do as others have done afore ye ? Hutter 
 was the old man’s name, and Hutter should be 
 the name of his darters — at least until you are 
 given away in lawful and holy wedlock.” 
 
 “ I am Judith, and Judith only,” returned the 
 girl, positively ; “ until the law gives me a right 
 to another name. Never will I use that of Thom- 
 as Hutter again; nor, with my consent, shall 
 Hetty! Hutter was not his own name, I find; 
 but had he a thousand rights to it, it would give 
 none to me. He was not my father, thank Heav- 
 en ; though I may have no reason to be proud of 
 him that was 1 ” 
 
 “ This is strange,” said Deerslayer, looking 
 Steadily at the exerted girl, anxious to know more, 
 
 but unwilling to inquire into matters that did not 
 properly concern him ; “ yes, this is very strange 
 and oncommon ! Thomas Hutter wasn’t Thomas 
 Hutter, and his darters weren’t his darters ! Who, 
 then, could Thomas Hutter be, and who are his 
 darters ? ” 
 
 “Did you never hear any thing whispered 
 against the former life of this person, Deer- 
 slayer ? ” demanded Judith. “ Passing, as I did, 
 for his child, such reports reached even me.” 
 
 “ I’ll not deny it, Judith ; no, I’ll not deny it. 
 Sartain things have been said, as I’ve told you ; 
 but I’m not very credible as to reports. Young 
 as I am, I’ve lived long enough to l’arn there’s 
 two sorts of characters in the world. Them that 
 is ’arned by deeds, and them that is ’arned by 
 tongues; and so I prefer to see and judge for 
 myself, instead of letting every jaw that chooses 
 to wag become my judge. Hurry Harry spoke 
 pretty plainly of the whole family, as we jour- 
 neyed this-a-way ; and he did hint something con- 
 sarning Thomas Hutter’s having been a free-liver 
 on the water, in his younger days. By free-liver, 
 I mean that he made free to live on other men’s 
 goods.” 
 
 “ He told you he was a pirate — there is no 
 need of mincing matters between friends. Read 
 that, Deerslayer, and you will see that he told you 
 no more than the truth. This Thomas Hovey 
 was the Thomas Hutter you knew, as is seen by 
 these letters.” 
 
 As Judith spoke, with a flushed cheek and 
 eyes dazzling with the brilliancy of excitement, 
 she held the newspaper toward her companion, 
 pointing to the proclamation of a colonial gov- 
 ernor, already mentioned. 
 
 “ Bless you, Judith ! ” answered the other, 
 laughing; “you might as well ask me to print 
 that — or, for that matter, to write it. My edi- 
 cation has been altogether in the woods ; the only 
 book I read, or care about reading, is the one 
 which God has opened afore all his creatur’s in 
 the noble forests, broad lakes, rolling rivers, blue 
 skies, and the winds, and tempests, and sunshine, 
 and other glorious marvels of the land! This 
 book I can read, and I find it full of wisdom and 
 knowledge.” 
 
 “I crave your pardon, Deerslayer,” said Ju- 
 dith, earnestly, more abashed than was her wont, 
 in finding that she had inadvertently made an ap- 
 peal that might wound her companion’s pride. 
 “ I had forgotten your manner of life, and least 
 of all did I wish to hurt your feelings.” 
 
 “ Hurt my feelin’s ! — why should it hurt my 
 feelin’s to ask me to read, when I can’t read ? 
 I’m a hunter — and I may now begin to say a waiv 
 
MARRIAGE SPECULATIONS. 
 
 183 
 
 nor, and no missionary; and, therefore, books 
 and papers are of no account with such as I. 
 No, no, Judith” — and here the young man laughed 
 cordially — “not even for wads, seeing that your 
 true deerkiller always uses the hide of a fa’an, if 
 he’s goc one, or some other bit of leather suitably 
 prepared. There’s some that do say, all that 
 stands in print is true ; in which case, I’ll own an 
 unParned man must be somewhat of a loser; 
 nevertheless, it can’t be truer than that which 
 God has printed with his own hand, in the sky, 
 and the woods, and the rivers, and the springs.” 
 
 “ Well, then, Hutter, or Hovey, was a pirate ; 
 and, being no father of mine, I cannot wish to call 
 him one. His name shall no longer be my name.” 
 
 “ If you dislike the name of that man, there’s 
 the name of your mother, Judith. Her name may 
 sarve you just as good a turn.” 
 
 “I do not know it. I’ve looked through 
 those papers, Deerslayer, in the hope of finding 
 some hint by which I might discover who my moth- 
 er was ; but there is no more trace of the past, 
 in that respect, than the bird leaves in the air.” 
 
 “That’s both oncommon and onreasonable. 
 Parents are bound to give their offspring a name, 
 even though they give ’em nothing else. Now, I 
 come of a humble stock, though we have white 
 gifts and a white natur’ ; but we are not so poor- 
 ly off as to have no name. Bumppo we are called, 
 and I’ve heard it said,” a touch of human vanity 
 glowing on his cheek, “ that the time has been 
 when the Bumppos had more standing and note 
 among mankind than they have just now.” 
 
 “ They never deserved them more, Deerslayer, 
 and the name is a good one ; either Hetty or 
 myself would a thousand times rather be called 
 Hetty Bumppo or Judith Bumppo, than to be 
 called Hetty or Judith Hutter.” 
 
 “That’s a moral impossible,” returned the 
 hunter, good-humoredly, “unless one of you 
 should so far demean herself as to marry me.” 
 
 Judith could not refrain from smiling when 
 she found how simply and naturally the conversa- 
 tion had come round to the very point at which 
 she had aimed to bring it. Although far from 
 unfeminine or forward either in her feelings or 
 her habits, the girl was goaded by a sense of 
 wrongs not altogether merited, incited by the 
 helplessness of a future that seemed to contain no 
 resting-place, and still more influenced by feel- 
 ings that were as novel to her as they proved to 
 be active and engrossing. The opening was too 
 good, therefore, to be neglected, though she came 
 to the subject with much of the indirectness, and, 
 perhaps, justifiable address of a woman. 
 
 “ I do not think Hetty will ever marry, Deer- 
 
 slayer,” she said ; “ if your name is to be borne by 
 either of us, it must be borne by me.” 
 
 “ There’s been handsome women, too, they 
 tell me, among the Bumppos, Judith, afore now, 
 and should you take up with the name, oncom- 
 mon as you be, in this particular, them that 
 knows the family won’t be altogether surprised.” 
 
 “ This is not talking as becomes cither of us, 
 Deerslayer ; for whatever is said on such a subject 
 between man and woman, should be said serious- 
 ly, and in sincerity of heart. Forgetting the shame 
 that ought to keep girls silent until spoken to in 
 most cases, I will deal with you as frankly as I 
 know one of your generous nature will most like 
 to be dealt by. Can you — do you think, Deer- 
 slayer, that you could be happy with such a wife 
 as a woman like myself would make ? ” 
 
 “A woman like you, Judith! But where’s 
 the sense in trifling about such a thing ? A wom- 
 an like you, that is handsome enough to be a cap- 
 tain’s lady, and fine enough, and, so far as I 
 know, edication enough, would be little apt to 
 think of becoming my wife. I suppose young 
 gals that feel themselves to be smart, and know 
 themselves to be handsome, find a sartain satis- 
 faction in passing their jokes ag’in them that’s 
 neither, like a poor Delaware hunter.” 
 
 This was said good-naturedly, but not with- 
 out a betrayal of feeling which showed that some- 
 thing like mortified sensibility was blended with 
 the reply. Nothing could have occurred more 
 likely to awaken all Judith’s generous regrets, or 
 to aid her in her purpose by adding the stimulant 
 of a disinterested desire to atone to her other 
 impulses, and clothing all under a guise so win- 
 ning and natural as greatly to lessen the unpleas- 
 ant feature of a forwardness unbecoming the sex. 
 
 “ You do me injustice if you suppose I have 
 any such thought or wish,” she answered, ear- 
 nestly. “ Never was I more serious in my life, or 
 more willing to abide by any agreement that we 
 may make to-night. I have had many suitors, 
 Deerslayer — nay, scarce an unmarried trapper or 
 hunter has been in at the lake these four years, 
 who has not offered to take me away with him, 
 and I fear some that were married, too — ” 
 
 “Ay, I’ll warrant that!” interrupted the 
 other — “ I’ll warrant all that ! Take ’em as a 
 body, Judith, ’arth don’t hold a set of men more 
 given to theirselves and less given to God and the 
 law.” 
 
 “Not one of them would I — could I listen to ; 
 happily for myself, perhaps, has it been that such 
 was the case. There have been well-looking 
 youths among them, too, as you may have seen 
 in your acquaintance, Henry March.” 
 
184 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “ Yes, Harry is sightly to the eye, though, to 
 my idees, less so to the judgment. I thought, at 
 first, you meant to have him, Judith, I did ; but, 
 afore he went, it was easy enough to verify that 
 the same lodge wouldn’t be big enough for you 
 both.” 
 
 “You have done me justice in that, at least, 
 Deerslayer. Hurry is a man I could never marry, 
 though he were ten times more comely to the eye, 
 and a hundred times more stout of heart than he 
 really is.” 
 
 “Why not, Judith — why not? I own I’m 
 cur’ous to know why a youth like Hurry 
 shouldn’t find favor with a maiden like you ? ” 
 
 “ Then you shall know, Deerslayer,” returned 
 the girl, gladly availing herself of the opportunity 
 of extolling the qualities which had so strongly 
 interested her in her listener ; hoping by these 
 means covertly to approach the subject nearest 
 her heart. “In the first place, looks in a man 
 are of no importance with a woman, provided he 
 is manly, and not disfigured or deformed.” 
 
 “There I can’t altogether agree with you,” 
 returned the other, thoughtfully, for he had a 
 very humble opinion of his own personal appear- 
 ance ; “ I have noticed that the comeliest warriors 
 commonly get the best-looking maidens of the 
 tribe for wives ; and the Sarpent, yonder, who is 
 sometimes wonderful in his paint, is a gineral 
 favorite with all the Delaware young women, 
 though he takes to Hist, himself, as if she was 
 the only beauty on ’arth ? ” 
 
 “ It may be so with Indians, but it is different 
 with white girls. So long as a young man has a 
 Straight and manly frame, that promises to make 
 him able to protect a woman, and to keep want 
 from the door, it is all they ask of the figure. 
 Giants like Hurry may do for grenadiers, but are 
 of little account as lovers. Then as to the face, 
 an honest look, one that answers for the heart 
 within, is of more value than any shape, or color, 
 or eyes, or teeth, or trifles like them. The last 
 may do for girls, but who thinks of them at all in 
 a hunter, or a warrior, or a husband ? If there 
 are women so silly, Judith’s not among them.” 
 
 “Well, this is wonderful! I always thought 
 that handsome liked handsome, as riches love 
 riches ! ” 
 
 “ It may be so with you men, Deerslayer, but 
 it is not always so with us women. We like stout- 
 hearted men, but we wish to see them modest ; 
 sure on a hunt or the war-path, ready to die for 
 the right, and unwilling to yield to the wrong. 
 Above all, we wish for honesty — tongues that are 
 not used to say what the mind does not mean, 
 and hearts that fee. a little for others as well as 
 
 for themselves. A true-hearted girl could die ibr 
 such a husband ! while the boaster, and the 
 double-tongued suitor, gets to be as hateful to 
 the sight as he is to the mind.” 
 
 Judith spoke bitterly, and with her usual 
 force, but her listener was too much struck with 
 the novelty of the sensations he experienced to 
 advert to her manner. There was something so 
 soothing to the humility of a man of his tempera- 
 ment to hear qualities that he could not but know 
 he possessed himself thus highly extolled by the 
 loveliest female he had ever beheld, that, for the 
 moment, his faculties seemed suspended in a 
 natural and excusable pride. Then it was that 
 the idea of the possibility of such a creature as 
 Judith becoming his companion for life, first 
 crossed his mind. The image was so pleasant 
 and so novel, that he continued completely ab- 
 sorbed by it for more than a minute, totally re- 
 gardless of the beautiful reality that was seated 
 before him, watching the expression of his up- 
 right and truth-telling countenance with a keen- 
 ness that gave her a very fair if not an absolutely 
 accurate clew to his thoughts. Never before had 
 so pleasing a vision floated before the mind’s eye 
 of the young hunter ; but, accustomed most to 
 practical things, and little addicted to submitting 
 to the power of his imagination, even while pos- 
 sessed of so much true poetical feeling in con- 
 nection with natural objects in particulai,he soon 
 recovered his reason, and smiled at his own weak- 
 ness as the fancied picture faded from hu mental 
 sight, and left him the simple, untaught, but 
 highly-moral being he was, seated in the ark of 
 Thomas Hutter, at midnight, with the lovely 
 countenance of its late owner’s reputed daughter 
 beaming on him with anxious scrutiny by the 
 light of the solitary lamp. 
 
 “You’re wonderful handsome, and enticing, 
 and pleasing to look on, Judith ! ” he exclaimed, 
 in his simplicity, as fact resumed its ascendency 
 over fancy. “ Wonderful ! I don’t remember 
 ever to have seen so beautiful a gal, even among 
 the Delawares ; and I’m not astonished that Hurry 
 Harry went away soured as well as disapp’inted ! ” 
 
 “Would you have had me, Deerslayer, be- 
 come the wife of such a man as Henry March ? ” 
 
 “There’s that which is in his favor, and 
 there’s that which is ag’in him. To my taste, 
 Hurry wouldn’t make the best of husbands, but I 
 fear that the tastes of most young women, here- 
 away, wouldn’t be so hard upon him.” 
 
 “No — no — Judith, without a name, would 
 never consent to be called Judith March! Any 
 thing would be better than that ! ” 
 
 “ Judith Bumppo wouldn’t sound as well, gal ; 
 
GOOD SENSE AND KIND ADVICE. 
 
 185 
 
 *nd there’s many names that would fall short of 
 March, in pleasing the ear.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Deerslayer, the pleasantness of the 
 sound, in such cases, does not come through the 
 heart. Every thing is agreeable when the heart 
 is satisfied. Were Natty Bumppo Henry March, 
 and Henry March Natty Bumppo, I might think 
 the name of March better than it is : or were he 
 you, I should fancy the name of Bumppo hor- 
 rible ! ” 
 
 “ That’s just it — yes, that’s the reason of the 
 matter. Now I’m nat’rally averse to sarpents, 
 and I hate even the word which, the mission- 
 aries tell me, comes from human natur’, on ac- 
 count of a sartain sarpent at the creation of the 
 ’arth, that outwitted the first woman ; yet, ever 
 since Chingachgoolc has ’amed the title he bears, 
 tvhy, the sound is as pleasant to my ears as the 
 whistle of the whippoorwill of a calm evening — it 
 is. The feelin’s make all the difference in the 
 world, Judith, in the natur’ of sounds ; ay, even 
 in that of looks, too.” 
 
 “ That is so true, Deerslayer, that I am sur- 
 prised you should think it remarkable a girl, who 
 may have some comeliness herself, should not 
 think it necessary that her husband should have 
 the same advantage, or what you fancy an ad- 
 vantage. To me, looks in a man are nothing, 
 provided his countenance be as honest as his 
 heart.” 
 
 “Yes, honesty is a great advantage, in the 
 long-run ; and they that are the most apt to for- 
 get it, in the beginning, are the most apt to l’arn 
 it in the ind. Nevertheless, there’s more, Judith, 
 that look to present profit than to the benefit that 
 is to come after a time. One they think a sar- 
 tainty, and the other an onsartainty. I’m glad, 
 howsever, that you look at the thing in its true 
 light, and not in the way in which so many is apt 
 to deceive themselves.” 
 
 “ I do thus look at it, Deerslayer,” returned 
 the girl with emphasis, still shrinking with a 
 woman’s sensitiveness from a direct offer of her 
 hand, “and can say, from the bottom of my 
 heart, that I would rather trust my happiness to a 
 man whose truth and feelings may be depended 
 on, than to a false-tongued and false-hearted 
 wretch that had chests of gold, and houses and 
 lands — yes, though he were even seated on a 
 throne ! ” 
 
 “These are brave words, Judith; they’re 
 downright brave words; but do you think that 
 the feelin’s would keep ’em company, did the 
 ch’ice actually lie afore you ? If a gay gallant in 
 a scarlet coat stood on one side, with his head 
 smelling like a deer’s foot, his face smooth and 
 
 blooming as your own, his hands as white and 
 soft as if God hadn’t bestowed ’em that man 
 might live by the sweat of his brow, and his step 
 as lofty as dancing-teachers and a light heart 
 could make it ; and on the other side stood one 
 that has passed his days in the open air till his 
 forehead is as red as his cheek ; had cut his way 
 through swamps and bushes till his hand was as 
 rugged as the oaks he slept under ; had trodden 
 on the scent of game till his step was as stealthy 
 as the catamount’s, and had no other pleasant 
 odor about him than such as Natur’ gives in the 
 free air and the forest — now, if both these men 
 stood here, as suitors for your feelin’s, which do 
 you think would win your favor ? ” 
 
 Judith’s fine face flushed ; for the picture 
 that her companion had so simply drawn of a 
 gay officer of the garrisons had once been par- 
 ticularly grateful to her imagination, though ex- 
 perience and disappointment had not only chilled 
 all her affections, but given them a backward cur- 
 rent, and the passing image had a momentary in- 
 fluence on her feelings ; but the mounting color was 
 succeeded by a paleness so deadly as to make 
 her appear ghastly. 
 
 “As God is my judge,” the girl solemnly an- 
 swered, “ did both these men stand before me, as 
 I may say one of them does, my choice, if I know 
 my own heart, would be the latter. I have no 
 wish for a husband who is any way better than 
 myself.” 
 
 “ This is pleasant to listen to, and might lead 
 a young man, in time, to forget his own onwor- 
 thiness, Judith ! Howsever, you hardly think all 
 that you say. A man like me is too rude and ig- 
 norant for one that has had such a mother to 
 teach her ; vanity is nat’ral, I do believe ; but 
 vanity like that would surpass reason ! ” 
 
 “ Then you do not know of what a woman’s 
 heart is capable ! Rude you are not, Deerslayer ! 
 nor can one be called ignorant that has studied 
 what is before his eyes as closely as you have 
 done. When the affections are concerned, all 
 things appear in their pleasantest colors, and 
 trifles are overlooked, or are forgotten. When 
 the heart feels a sunshine, nothing is gloomy, even 
 dull-looking objects seeming gay and bright ; and 
 so it would be between you and the woman who 
 should love you, even though your wife might 
 happen, in some matters, to possess what the 
 world calls the advantage over you.” 
 
 “ Judith, you come from people altogethei 
 above mine, in the world ; and onequal matches, 
 like onequal fri’ndships, can’t often tarminate 
 kindly. I speak of this matter altogether as a 
 I fanciful thing, since it’s not very likely that you. 
 
186 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 at least, would be able to treat it as a matter that 
 can ever come to pass.”' 
 
 Judith fastened her deep-blue eyes on the 
 open, frank countenance of her companion, as if 
 she would read his soul. Nothing there betrayed 
 any covert meaning, and she was obliged to ad- 
 mit to herself that he regarded the conversation 
 as argumentative, rather than positive, and that 
 he was still without any active suspicion that her 
 feelings were seriously involved in the issue. At 
 first she felt offended ; then she saw the injustice 
 of making the self-abasement and modesty of the 
 hunter a charge against him ; and this novel 
 difficulty gave a piquancy to the state of affairs 
 that rather increased her interest in the young 
 man. At that critical instant, a change of plan 
 flashed on her mind, and, with a readiness of in- 
 vention that is peculiar to the quick-witted and 
 ingenious, she adopted a scheme by which she 
 hoped effectually to bind him to her person. This 
 scheme partook equally of her fertility of inven- 
 tion, and of the decision and boldness of her char- 
 acter. That the conversation might not terminate 
 too abruptly, however, or any suspicion of her de- 
 sign exist, she answered the last remark of Deer- 
 slayer as earnestly and as truly as if her original 
 intention remained unaltered. 
 
 “I, certainly, have no reason to boast of 
 parentage, after what I have seen this night,” 
 said the girl, in a saddened voice. “ I had a 
 mother, it is true ; but of her name, even, I am 
 ignorant ; and as for my father, it is better, per- 
 haps, that I should never know who he was, lest 
 I speak too bitterly of him ! ” 
 
 “Judith,” said Deerslayer, taking her hand 
 kindly, and with a manly sincerity that went di- 
 rectly to the girl’s heart, “ ’tis better to say no 
 more to-night. Sleep on what you’ve seen and 
 felt ; in the morning, things that now look gloomy 
 may look more cheerful. Above all, never do 
 any thing in bitterness, or because you feel as if 
 you’d like to take revenge on yourself for other 
 people’s backslidings. All that has been said or 
 done atween us, this night, is your secret, and 
 shall never be talked of by me, even with the Sar- 
 pent ; and you may be sartain if he can’t get it 
 out of me, no man can. If your parents have 
 been faulty, let the darter be less so ; remember 
 that you’re young, and the youthful may always 
 hope for better times ; that you’re more quick- 
 witted than usual, and such gin’rally get the bet- 
 ter of difficulties ; and that as for beauty, you’re 
 oncommon ; this is an advantage with all. It is 
 time to get a little rest, for to-morrow is like to 
 prove a trying day to some of us.” 
 
 Deerslayer arose as he spoke, and Judith had 
 
 no choice b it to comply. The chest was closed 
 and secured, and they parted in silence ; she tc 
 take her place by the side of Hist and Hetty, and 
 he to seek a blanket on the floor of the cabin he 
 was in. It was not five minutes ere the young 
 man was in a deep sleep ; but the girl continued 
 awake for a long time. She scarcely knew 
 whether to lament, or to rejoice, at having failed in 
 making herself understood. On the one hand, were 
 her womanly sensibilities spared ; on the other, 
 was the disappointment of defeated or at least of 
 delayed expectations, and the uncertainty of a 
 future that looked so dark. Then came the new 
 resolution and the bold project for the morrow ; 
 and when drowsiness finally shut her eyes, they 
 closed on a scene of success and happiness, that 
 was pictured by the fancy, under the influence of 
 a sanguine temperament and a happy invention 
 
 CHAPTER SXY. 
 
 “ But, mother, now a shade has past 
 Athwart my brightest visions here, 
 
 A cloud of darkest gloom has wrapt 
 The remnant of my brief career ! 
 
 No song, no echo can I win ; 
 
 The sparkling fount has dried within.” 
 
 Margaret Davidson. 
 
 Hist and Hetty arose with the return of light, 
 leaving Judith still buried in sleep. It took but 
 a minute for the first to complete her toilet. Her 
 long coal-black hair was soon adjusted in a simple 
 knot, the calico dress belted tight to her slender 
 waist, and her little feet concealed in their gaudily- 
 ornamented moccasins. When attired, she left 
 her companion employed in household affairs, and 
 went herself on the platform, to breathe the pure 
 air of the morning. Here she found Chingach- 
 gook studying the shores of the lake, the moun- 
 tains, and the heavens, with the sagacity of a man 
 of the woods, and the gravity of an Indian. 
 
 The meeting between the two lovers was sim- 
 ple but affectionate. The chief showed a manly 
 kindness, equally removed from boyish weakness 
 and haste ; while the girl betrayed in her smile 
 and half-averted looks the bashful tenderness of 
 her sex. Neither spoke, unless it were with the 
 eyes, though each understood the other as fully 
 as if a vocabulary of words and protestations had 
 been poured out. Hist seldom appeared to more 
 advantage than at that moment ; for, just from 
 her rest and ablutions, there was a freshness about 
 her youthful form and face that the toils of the 
 wood do not always permit to be exhibited by 
 
HIST AND HER HUSBAND 
 
 187 
 
 even the juvenile and pretty. Then Judith had 
 not only imparted some of her own skill in the 
 toilet, during their short intercourse, but she had 
 actually bestowed a few well-selected ornaments 
 from her own stores, that contributed not a little 
 to set off the natural graces of the Indian maid. 
 All this the lover saw and felt, and for a moment 
 his countenance was illuminated with a look of 
 pleasure ; but it soon grew grave again, and be- 
 came saddened and anxious. The stools used the 
 previous night were still standing on the platform ; 
 placing two against the walls of the hut, he seated 
 himself on one, making a gesture to his compan- 
 ion to take the other. This done, he continued 
 thoughtful and silent for quite a minute, maintain- 
 ing the reflecting dignity of one born to take his 
 seat at the council-fire, while Hist was furtively 
 watching the expression of his face, patient and 
 submissive, as became a woman of her people. 
 Then the young warrior stretched his arm before 
 him, as if to point out the glories of the scene at 
 that witching hour, when the whole panorama, as 
 usual, was adorned by the mellow distinctness of 
 early morning, sweeping with his hand slowly over 
 lake, hills, and heavens. The girl followed the 
 movement with pleased wonder, smiling as each 
 new beauty met her gaze. 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” exclaimed the chief, in admiration 
 of a scene so unusual even to him, for this was the 
 first lake he had ever beheld. “ This is the coun- 
 try of the Manitou ! It is too good for Mingoes, 
 Hist ; but the curs of that tribe are howling in 
 packs through the woods. They think that the 
 Delawares are asleep, over the mountains.” 
 
 “ All but one of them is, Chingachgook. 
 There is one here ; and he is of the blood of Un- 
 cas ! ” 
 
 “ What is one warrior against a tribe ? — The 
 path to our villages is very long and crooked, and 
 we shall travel it under a cloudy sky. I am 
 afraid, too, Honeysuckle of the Hills, that we 
 shall travel it alone ! ” 
 
 Hist understood the allusion, and it made her 
 sad ; though it sounded sweet to her ears to be 
 compared, by the warrior she so loved, to the 
 most fragrant and the pleasantest of all the wild 
 flowers of her native woods. Still she continued 
 silent, as became her when the allusion was to a 
 grave interest that men could best control, though 
 it exceeded the power of education to conceal 
 the smile that gratified feeling brought to her 
 pretty mouth. 
 
 “ When the sun is thus,” continued the Dela- 
 ware, pointing to the zenith, by simply casting 
 upward a hand and' finger, by a play of the wrist, 
 “ the great hunter of our tribe will go back to the 
 
 Hurons to be treated like a bear, that they roast 
 and skin, even on full stomachs.” 
 
 “ The Great Spirit may soften their hearts, 
 and not suffer them to be so bloody-minded. I 
 have lived among the Hurons, and know them. 
 They have hearts, and will not forget their own 
 children, should they fall into the hands of the 
 Delawares.” 
 
 “ A wolf is forever howling ; a hog will al- 
 ways eat. They have lost warriors ; even their 
 women will call out for vengeance. The pale- 
 face has the eyes of an eagle, and can see into a 
 Mingo’s heart ; he looks for no mercy. There is 
 a cloud over his spirit, though it is not before his 
 face.” 
 
 A long, thoughtful pause succeeded, during 
 which Hist stealthily took the hand of the chief, 
 as if seeking his support, though she scarce ven- 
 tured to raise her eyes to a countenance that was 
 now literally becoming terrible, under the con- 
 flicting passions and stem resolution that were 
 struggling in the breast of its owner. 
 
 “ What will the son of Uncas do ? ” the girl 
 at length timidly asked. “ He is a chief, and is 
 already celebrated in council, though so young ; 
 what does his heart tell him is wisest ? does the 
 head, too, speak the same words as the heart ? ” 
 
 “What does Wah-ta!-Wah say, at a moment 
 when my dearest friend is in danger ? The small- 
 est birds sing the sweetest ; it is always pleasant 
 to hearken to their songs. I wish I could hear 
 the Wren of the Woods in my difficulty ; its note 
 would reach deeper than the ear.” 
 
 Again Hist experienced the profound grati- 
 fication that the language of praise can always 
 awaken, when uttered by those we love. The 
 “ Honeysuckle of the Hills ” was a term often ap- 
 plied to the girl, by the young men of the Dela- 
 wares, though it never sounded so sweet in her 
 ears as from the lips of Chingachgook ; but the 
 latter alone had ever styled her the Wren of the 
 Woods. With him, however, it had got to be a 
 familiar phrase, and it was past expression pleas- 
 ant to the listener, since it conveyed to her mind 
 the idea that her advice and sentiments were as 
 acceptable to her future husband, as the tones ol 
 her voice and modes of conveying them were 
 agreeable ; uniting the two things most prized 
 by an Indian girl, as coming from her betrothed, 
 admiration for a valued physical advantage, with 
 respect for her opinion. She pressed the band 
 she held between both her own, and answered : 
 
 “ Wah-ta !-Wah says that neither she nor the 
 Great Serpent could ever laugh again, or ever 
 sleep without dreaming of the Hurons, should the 
 Deerslayer die under a Mingo tomahawk, and 
 
188 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 they do nothing to save him. She would rath- 
 er go back, and start on her long path alone, 
 than let such a dark cloud pass before her happi- 
 ness.” 
 
 “ Good ! The husband and the wife will have 
 but one heart ; they will see with the same eyes, 
 and feel with the same feelings.” 
 
 What further was said, need not be related 
 here. That the conversation was of Deerslayer, 
 and his hopes, has been seen already, but the 
 decision that was come to, will better appear in 
 the course of the narrative. The youthful pair 
 were yet conversing when the sun appeared above 
 the tops of the pines, and the light of a brilliant 
 American day streamed down into the valley, 
 bathing “ in deep joy ” the lake, the forests, and 
 the mountain-sides. Just at this instant Deer- 
 slayer came out of the cabin of the ark, and 
 stepped upon the platform. His first look was 
 at the cloudless heavens, then his rapid glance 
 took in the entire panorama of land and water, 
 when he had leisure for a friendly nod at his 
 friends, and a cheerful smile for Hist. 
 
 “ Well,” he said, in his usual composed man- 
 ner and pleasant voice ; “ he that sees the sun 
 set in the west, and wakes early enough in the 
 morning, will be sartain to find him coming back 
 ag’in in the east, like a buck that is hunted round 
 his ha’nts. I dare say, now, Hist, you’ve beheld 
 this, time and ag’in, and yet it never entered your 
 galish mind to ask the reason ? ” 
 
 Both Chingachgook and his betrothed looked 
 up at the luminary, with an air that betokened 
 sudden wonder, and then they gazed at each 
 other, as if to seek the solution of the difficulty. 
 Familiarity deadens the sensibilities, even as con- 
 nected with the gravest natural phenomena ; and 
 never before had these simple beings thought of 
 inquiring into a movement that was of daily ocr 
 currence, however puzzling it might appear on 
 investigation. When the subject was thus sud- 
 denly started, it struck both alike, and at the 
 same instant, with some such force as any new 
 and brilliant proposition in the natural sciences 
 would strike the scholar. Chingachgook alone 
 saw fit to answer. 
 
 “ The pale-faces know every thing,” he said ; 
 “ can they tell us why the sun hides his face, 
 when he goes back, at night ? ” 
 
 “ Aj, that is downright red-skin lamin’,” re- 
 turned the other, laughing ; though he was not 
 altogether insensible to the pleasure of proving 
 the superiority of his race, by solving the diffi- 
 culty, which he set about doing, in his own pe- 
 culiar manner. “ Hark’ee, Sarpent,” he contin- 
 ued more gravely, though too simply for affecta- 
 
 tion ; “ this is easierly explained than an Indian 
 brain may fancy. The sun, while he seems to 
 keep travelling in the heavens, never budges, but 
 it is the ’arth that turns round ; and any one can 
 understand, if he is placed on the side of a mill- 
 wheel, for instance, when it’s in motion, that he 
 must sometimes see the heavens, while he is at 
 other times under the water. There’s no great 
 secret in that, but plain natur’ ; the difficulty be- 
 ing in setting the ’arth in motion.” 
 
 “ How does my brother know that the earth 
 turns round ? ” demanded the Indian. “ Can he 
 see it ? ” 
 
 “Well, that’s been a puzzler, I will own, 
 Delaware ; for I’ve often tried it, but never could* 
 fairly make it out. Sometimes I’ve consaited 
 that I could ; and then, ag’in, I’ve been obliged 
 to own it an onpossibility. Howsever, turn it 
 does, as all my people say, and you ought to be- 
 lieve ’em, since they can foretell eclipses, and 
 other prodigies, that used to fill the tribes with 
 terror, according to your own traditions of such 
 things.” 
 
 “ Good. This is true ; no red man will deny 
 it. When a wheel turns, my eyes can see it — 
 they do not see the earth turn.” 
 
 “ Ay, that’s what I call sense-obstinacy ! See- 
 ing is believing, they say ; and what they can’t 
 see, some men won’t in the least give credit to. 
 Nevertheless, chief, that isn’t quite as good rea- 
 son as it may at first seem. You believe in the 
 Great Spirit, I know; and yet, I conclude, it 
 would puzzle you to show where you see him ! ” 
 
 “ Chingachgook can see him everywhere — 
 everywhere in good things — the Evil Spirit in bad. 
 Here, in the lake ; there, in the forest ; yonder, 
 in the clouds ; in Hist, in the son of Uncas, in 
 Tamenund, in Deerslayer. The Evil Spirit is in 
 the Mingoes. That I know ; I do not see the 
 earth turn round.” 
 
 “ I don’t wonder they call you the Sarpent. 
 Delaware; no, I don’t! There’s always a mean- 
 ing in your words, and there’s often a meaning in 
 your countenance, too ! Notwithstanding, your 
 answers doesn’t quite meet my idee. That God 
 is obsarvable in all nat’ral objects is allowable ; 
 but then he is not parceptible in the way I mean. 
 You know there is a Great Spirit, by his works, 
 and the pale-faces know that the ’arth turns 
 round by its works. This is the reason of the 
 matter, though how it is to bs explained, is more 
 than I can exactly tell you. This I know ; all 
 my people consait that fact; and what all the 
 pale-faces consait, is very likely to be true.” 
 
 “ When the sun is in the top of that pine to- 
 morrow, where will my brother Deerslayer be ? ” 
 
THE DELAWARE CHIEF’S FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 189 
 
 The hunter started, and he looked intently, 
 though totally without alarm, at his friend. Then 
 he signed for him to follow, and led the way into 
 the ark, where he might pursue the subject un- 
 heard by those whose feelings he feared might 
 get the mastery over their reason. Here he 
 stopped, and pursued the conversation in a more 
 confidential tone. 
 
 “ ’Twas a little onreasonable in you, Sarpent,” 
 he said, “ to bring up such a subject afore Hist, 
 and when the young woman of my own color 
 might overhear what was said. Yes, ’twas a lit- 
 tle more onreasonable than most things that you 
 do. No matter; Hist didn’t comprehend, and 
 the other didn’t hear. However, the question is 
 easier put than answered. No mortal can say 
 where he will be when the sun rises to-morrow. 
 I will ask you the same question, Sarpent, and 
 should like to hear what answer you can give.” 
 
 “ Chingachgook will be with his friend, Deer- 
 slayer ; if he be in the land of spirits; the Great 
 Serpent will crawl at his side, if beneath yonder 
 sun, its warmth and light shall fall on both.” 
 
 “ I understand you, Delaware,” returned the 
 other, touched with the simple self-devotion of 
 his friend. “Such language is as plain in one 
 tongue as in another ; it comes from the heart, 
 and goes to the heart, too. ’Tis well to think so, 
 and it may be well to say so, for that matter, but 
 it would not be well to do so, Sarpent. You are 
 no longer alone in life ; for, though you have the 
 lodges to change, and other ceremonies to go 
 through, afore Hist becomes your lawful wife, 
 yet are you as good as married, in all that bears 
 on the feelin’s, and joy, and misery. No, no ; 
 Hist must not be desarted, because a cloud is 
 passing atween you and me, a little unexpectedly, 
 and a little darker than we may have looked for.” 
 
 u Hist is a daughter of the Mohicans : she 
 knows how to obey her husband. Where he goes 
 she will follow. Both will be with the Great 
 Hunter of the Delawares, when the sun shall be 
 in the pine to-morrow.” 
 
 *‘ The Lord bles3 and protect you ! Chief, 
 this is downright madness. Can either or both 
 of you alter a Mingo natur’ ? Will your grand 
 looks, or Hist’s tears and beauty, change a wolf 
 into a squirrel, or make a catamount as innocent 
 as a fa’an ? No, Sarpent, you will think better 
 of this matter, and leave me in the hands of God. 
 A’ter all, it’s by no means sartain that the scamps 
 design the torments, for they may yet be pitiful, 
 and bethink them of the wickedness of such a 
 course ; though it is but a hopeless expectation 
 to look forward to a Mingo’s turning aside from 
 •viL and letting marcy get uppermost in his heart. 
 
 Nevertheless, no one knows to a sartainty what 
 will happen; and young creatur’s, like Hist, 
 ar’n’t to be risked on unsartainties. This marry- 
 ing is altogether a different undertaking from 
 what some young men fancy. Now, if you was 
 single, or as good as single, Delaware, I should 
 expect you to be actyve and stirring about the 
 camp of the vagabonds, from sunrise to sunset, 
 sarcumventing, and contriving, as restless as a 
 hound off the scent, and doing all manner of 
 things to help me, and to distract the inimy ; but 
 two are often feebler than one, and we must take 
 things as they are, and not as we want ’em to 
 be.” 
 
 “ Listen, Deerslayer,” returned the Indian, 
 with an emphasis so decided as to show how 
 much he was in earnest. “ If Chingachgook was 
 in the hands of the Hurons, what would my pale- 
 face brother do ? Sneak off to the Delaware vil- 
 lages, and say to the chiefs, and old men, and 
 young warriors — ‘See; here is Wah-ta!-wah; 
 she is safe, but a little tired ; and here is the Son 
 of Uncas, not as tired as the Honeysuckle, being 
 stronger, but just as safe.’ Would he do this ? ” 
 
 “Well, that’s oncommon ingen’ous; it’s cun- 
 ning enough for a Mingo himself. The Lord only 
 knows what put it into your head to ask such a 
 question. What would I do ? Why, in the first 
 place, Hist wouldn’t be likely to be in my com- 
 pany at all, for she would stay as near you as 
 possible, and therefore all that part about her 
 couldn’t be said without talking nonsense. As 
 for her being tired, that would fall through too, 
 if she didn’t go, and no part of your speech would 
 be likely to come from me ; so, you see, Sarpent, 
 reason is ag’in you, and you may as well give it 
 up, since to hold out ag’in reason, is no way be- 
 coming a chief of your character and repitation.” 
 
 “My brother is not himself; he forgets that 
 he is talking to one who has sat at the council- 
 fires of his nation,” returned the other, kindly. 
 “ When men speak, they should say that which 
 does not go in at one side of the head, and out 
 at the other. Their words shouldn’t be feathers, 
 so light that a wind, which does not ruffle the 
 water, can blow them away. He has not an- 
 swered my question ; when a chief puts a ques- 
 tion, his friend should not talk of other things.” 
 
 “ I understand you, Delaware ; I understand 
 well enough what you mean, and truth won’t 
 allow me to say otherwise. Still, it’s not as easy 
 to answer as you seem to think, for this plaii 
 reason : You wish me to say what I would do il 
 I had a betrothed, as you have, here, on the lake, 
 and a fri’nd yonder, in the Huron camp, in dan- 
 ger of the torments. That’s it, isn’t it ? ” 
 
190 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 The Indian bowed his head silently, and al- 
 ways with unmoved gravity, though his eye 
 twinkled at the sight of the other’s embarrass- 
 ment. 
 
 “ Well, I never had a betrothed ; never had 
 the kind of feelin’s toward any young woman that 
 you have toward Hist ; though the Lord knows 
 my feelin’s kind enough toward ’em all ! Still, 
 my heart, as they call it, in such matters isn’t 
 touched, and therefore I can’t say what I would 
 do. A fri’nd pulls strong ; that I know by ex- 
 per’ence, Sarpent ; but, by all that I’ve seen and 
 heard consarning love, I’m led to think that a 
 betrothed pulls stronger.” 
 
 “ True ; but the betrothed of Chingachgook 
 does not pull toward the lodges of the Delawares ; 
 she pulls toward the camp of the Hurons.” 
 
 “ She’s a noble gal, for all her little feet and 
 hands that an’t bigger than a child’s, and a voice 
 that’s as pleasant as a mocker’s ; she’s a noble 
 gal, and like the stock of her sires ! Well, what 
 is it, Sarpent ? for I conclude she hasn’t changed 
 her mind and means to give herself up, and turn 
 Huron wife. What is it you want ? ” 
 
 “ Wah-ta !-Wah will never live in the wigwam 
 of an Iroquois,” answered the Delaware, dryly. 
 “ She has little feet, but they can carry her to 
 the villages of her people ; she has small hands, 
 too, but her mind is large. My brother will see 
 what we can do, when the time shall come, rather 
 than let him die under Mingo torments.” 
 
 “ Attempt nothing heedlessly, Delaware,” said 
 the other earnestly; “I suppose you must and 
 will have your way ; and, on the whole, it’s right 
 you should ; for you’d neither be happy unless 
 something was undertaken. But attempt nothing 
 heedlessly. I didn’t expect you’d quit the lake 
 while my matter remained in unsartainty ; but re- 
 member, Sarpent, that no torments that Mingo 
 ingenuity can invent, no ta’ntings and revilings^ 
 no burnings and roastings and nail-tearings, nor 
 any other onhuman contrivance, can so soon break 
 down my spirit, as to find that you and Hist have 
 fallen into the power of the inemy, in striving to 
 do something for my good.” 
 
 “ The Delawares are prudent. The Deerslayer 
 will not find them running into a strange camp 
 with their eyes shut.” 
 
 Here the dialogue terminated. Hetty an- 
 nounced that the breakfast was ready, and the 
 whole party were soon seated around the simple 
 board, in the usual primitive manner of borderers. 
 Judith was the last to take her seat, pale, silent, 
 and betraying in her countenance that she had 
 passed a painful if not a sleepless night. At this 
 meal scarce a syllable was exchanged, all the 
 
 females manifesting want of appetite, though the 
 two men were unchanged in this particular. It 
 was early when the party arose, and there still re- 
 mained several hours before it would be necessary 
 for the prisoner to leave his friends. The knowl- 
 edge of this circumstance, and the interest all felt 
 in his welfare, induced the whole to assemble on 
 the platform again, in the desire to be near the 
 expected victim, to listen to his discourse, and, 
 if possible, to show their interest in him by anti- 
 cipating his wishes. Deerslayer himself, so far 
 as human eyes could penetrate, was wholly un- 
 moved, conversing cheerfully and naturally, 
 though he avoided any direct allusion to the 
 expected and great event of the day. If any evi- 
 dence could be discovered of his thoughts revert- 
 ing to that painful subject at all, it was in the 
 manner in which he spoke of death and the last 
 great change. 
 
 “ Grieve not, Hetty,” he said — for it was while 
 consoling this simple-minded girl for the loss of 
 her parents that he thus betrayed his feelings — 
 “ since God has app’inted that all must die. Your 
 parents, or them you fancied your parents, which 
 is the same thing, have gone afore you ; this is 
 only in the order of natur’, my good gal, for the 
 aged go first and the young follow. But one that 
 had a mother like your’n, Hetty, can be at no loss 
 to hope the best, as to how matters will turn out 
 in another world. The Delaware here and Hist 
 believe in happy hunting-grounds, and have idees 
 befitting their notions and gifts as red-skins ; but 
 we, who are of white blood, hold altogether to a 
 different doctrine. Still, I rather conclude our 
 heaven is their land of spirits, and that the path 
 which leads to it will be travelled by all colors 
 alike. ’Tis onpossible for the wicked to enter on 
 it, I will allow ; but fri’nds can scarce be separated, 
 though they are not of the same race on ’arth. 
 Keep up your spirits, poor Hetty, and look for- 
 ward to the day when you will meet your mother 
 ag’in, and that without pain or sorrowing.” 
 
 “ I do expect to see mother,” returned the 
 truth-telling and simple girl, .“ but what will be- 
 come of father ? ” 
 
 “That’s a non-plusser, Delaware,” said the 
 hunter in the Indian dialect — “yes, that is a 
 downright non-plusser ! The Muskrat was not a 
 saint on ’arth, and it’s fair to guess he’ll not be 
 much of one hereafter ! — Howsever, Hetty ” — 
 dropping into the English by an easy transition 
 — “howsever, Hetty, we must all hope for tho 
 best. This is wisest, and it is much the easiest 
 to the mind, if one can only do it. I ricommend 
 to you trusting to God, and putting down all mis- 
 givings and faint-hearted feelin’a. — It’s wonderful 
 
THE HAPPY HUNTING-GROUNDS. 
 
 191 
 
 Judith, how different people have different notions 
 about the futur’, some fancying one change and 
 some fancying another. I’ve known white teach- 
 ers that have thought all was spirit hereafter ; 
 and them, ag’in, that believed the body will be 
 transported to another world, much as the red- 
 skins themselves imagine, and that we shall walk 
 about in the flesh and know each other, and talk 
 together, and be fri’nds there as we’ve been fri’nds 
 here.” 
 
 “ Which of these opinions is most pleasing to 
 you , Deerslayer ? ” asked the girl, willing to in- 
 dulge his melancholy mood, and far from being 
 free from its influence herself. “Would it be 
 disagreeable to think that you should meet all 
 who are now on this platform in another world ? 
 Or have you known enough of us here, to be glad 
 to see us no more ? ” 
 
 “ The last would make death a bitter portion ; 
 yes, it would. It’s eight good years since the 
 Sarpent and I began to hunt together, and the 
 thought that we were never to meet ag’in would 
 be a hard thought to me. He looks forward to 
 the time when he shall chase a sort of spirit-deer, 
 in company, on plains where there’s no thorns, or 
 brambles, or marshes, or other hardships to over- 
 come ; whereas, I can’t fall into all thesG notions, 
 seeing that they appear to be ag’in reason. Spirits 
 can’t eat, nor have they any use for clothes ; and 
 deer can only rightfully be chased to be slain, or 
 slain, unless it be for the venison or the hides. 
 Now I find it hard to suppose that blessed spirits 
 can be put to chasing game without an object, 
 tormenting the dumb animals just for the pleasure 
 and agreeableness of their own amusements. I. 
 never yet pulled a trigger on buck or doe, Judith, 
 unless when food or clothes was wanting.” 
 
 “ The recollection of which, Deerslayer, must 
 now be a great consolation to you.” 
 
 “ It is the thought of such things, my fri’nds, 
 that enables a man to keep his furlough. It might 
 be done without it, I own ; for the worst red-skins 
 sometimes do their duty in this matter ; but it 
 makes that which might otherwise be hard, easy, 
 if not altogether to our liking. Nothing truly 
 makes a bolder heart than a light conscience.” 
 
 Judith turned paler than ever, but she strug- 
 gled for self-command and succeeded in obtaining 
 it. The conflict had been severe, however, and 
 it left her so little disposed to speak, that Hetty 
 pursued the subject. This was done in the simple 
 manner natural to the girl. 
 
 “ It would be cruel to kill the poor deer,” she 
 said, “ in this world or any other, when you don’t 
 want their venison or their skins. No good white 
 man and no good red man would do it. But it’s 
 13 
 
 wicked for a Christian to ta.k about chasing any 
 thing in heaven. Such things are not done before 
 the face of God, and the missionary that teaches 
 these doctrines can’t be a true missionary. Ho 
 must be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I suppose 
 you know what a sheep is, Deerslayer ? ” 
 
 “ That I do, gal ; and a useful creature it is to 
 such as like cloths better than skins for winter- 
 garments. I understand the natur’ of sheep, 
 though I’ve had but little to do with ’em ; and 
 the natur’ of wolves too, and can take the idee 
 of a wolf in the fleece of a sheep, though I think 
 it would be likely to prove a hot jacket for such 
 a beast in the warm months.” 
 
 “And sin and hypocrisy are hot jackets, as 
 they will find who put them on,” returned Hetty, 
 positively ; “ so the wolf would be no worse otf 
 than the sinner. Spirits don’t hunt, nor trap, nor 
 fish, nor do any thing that vain men undertake, 
 since they’ve none of the longings of this world 
 to feed. Oh ! mother told me all that years ago, 
 and I didn’t wish to hear it denied.” 
 
 “Well, my good Hetty, in that case you’d 
 better not broach your doctrine to Hist when she 
 and you are alone, and the young Delaware maiden 
 is inclined to talk religion. It’s her fixed idee, I 
 know, that the good warriors do nothing but hunt 
 and fish in the other world ; though I don’t believe 
 that she fancies any of them are brought down to 
 trapping, which is no empl’yment for a brave. 
 But of hunting and fishing, accordin’ to her notion, 
 they’ve their fill, and that, too, over the most 
 agreeablest hunting-grounds and among gamo 
 that is never out of season, and which is just 
 actyve and instinctive enough to give a pleasure 
 to death. So I wouldn’t ricommend it to you to 
 start Hist on that idee.” 
 
 “ Hist can’t be so wicked as to believe any 
 such thing,” returned the other, earnestly. “No 
 Indian hunts after he is dead.” 
 
 “ No wicked Indian, I grant you ; no wicked 
 Indian sartainly. He is obliged to carry the am- 
 munition, and to look on without sharing in the 
 sport, and to cook, and to light the fires, and to 
 do every thing that isn’t manfuL Now mind, I 
 don’ t tell you these are my idees, but they are 
 Hist’s idees, and therefore, for the sake of peace, 
 the less you say to her ag’in ’em the better.” 
 
 “And what are your ideas of the fate of an 
 Indian in the other world ? ” demanded J udith, 
 who had just found her voice. 
 
 “ Ah ! gal, any thing but that ! I am too 
 Christianized to expect any thing so fanciful as 
 hunting and fishing after death ; nor do I believe 
 there is one Hanitou for the red-skin, and another 
 for a pale-face. You find different color on ’arth, 
 
192 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 as any one may see, but you don’t find different 
 natur r s. Different gifts, but only one natur’.” 
 
 “ In what is a gift different from a nature ? 
 Is not Nature itself a gift from God ? ” 
 
 “ Sartain ; that’s quick-thoughted and credit- 
 able, Judith, though the main idee is wrong. A 
 natur’ is the creatur’ itself; its wishes, wants, 
 idees, and feelin’s, as all are born in him. This 
 natur’ never can be changed in the main, though 
 it may undergo some increase or lessening. Now, 
 gifts come of sarcumstances. Thus, if you put 
 a man in a town, he gets town gifts ; in a settle- 
 ment, settlement gifts ; in a forest, gifts of the 
 woods. A soldier has soldierly gifts, and a mis- 
 sionary preaching gifts. All these increase and 
 Strengthen until they get to fortify natur’ as it 
 might be, and excuse a thousand acts and idees. 
 Still the creatur’ is the same at the bottom ; just 
 as a man who is clad in regimentals is the same 
 as the man that is clad in skins. The garments 
 make a change to the eye, and some change in 
 the conduct perhaps ; but none in the man. 
 Herein lies the apology for gifts ; seein’ that you 
 expect different conduct from one in silks and 
 satins from one in homespun ; though the Lord, 
 who didn’t make the dresses, but who made the 
 creatur’s themselves looks only at his own work. 
 This isn’t ra’al missionary doctrine, but it’s as 
 near it as a man of white color need be. Ah’s 
 me ! little did I think to be talking of such mat- 
 ters to-day, but it’s one of our weaknesses never 
 to know what foil come to pass. — Step into the 
 ark with me, Judith, for a minute. I wish to 
 convarse with you.” 
 
 Judith complied with a willingness she could 
 scarce conceal. Following the hunter into the 
 cabin, she took a seat on a stool, while the young 
 man brought Killdeer, the rifle she had given him, 
 out of a corner, and placed himself on another, 
 with the weapon laid upon his knees. After turn- 
 ing the piece round and round, and examining its 
 lock and its breech with a sort of affectionate as- 
 siduity, he laid it down and proceeded to the 
 subject which had induced him to desire the in- 
 terview. 
 
 “ I understand you, Judith, to say that you 
 gave me this rifle,” he said. “ I agreed to take 
 it because a young woman can have no particular 
 use for fire-arms. The we’pon has a great name, 
 and it desarves it, and ought of right to be car- 
 ried by some known and sure hand, for the best 
 reputation may be lost by careless and thought- 
 less handling.” 
 
 “ Can it be in better hands than those in which 
 it is now, Deerslayer ? Thomas Hutter seldom 
 missed with it : with you it must turn out to be — ” 
 
 “ Sartin death ! ” interrupted the hunter, 
 laughing. “I once know’d a beaver-man that 
 had a piece called by that very name, but ’twas 
 all boastfulness, for I’ve seen Delawares that were 
 as true with arrows at a short range. Howsever, 
 I’ll not deny my gifts — for this is a gift, Judith, 
 and not natur’ — but I’ll not deny my gifts, and 
 therefore allow that the rifle couldn’t well be in 
 better hands than it is at present. But how long 
 will it be likely to remain there ? Atween us, 
 the truth may be said, though I shouldn’t like to 
 have it known to the Sarpent and Hist ; but to 
 you the truth may be spoken, since your feelin’s 
 will not be as likely to be tormented by it as 
 those of them that have known me longer and 
 better. How long am I like to own this rifle or 
 any other ? That is a serious question for our 
 thoughts to rest on, and should that happen which 
 is so likely to happen, Killdeer would be without 
 an owner.” 
 
 Judith listened with apparent composure, 
 though the conflict within came near overpower- 
 ing her. Appreciating the singular character of 
 her companion, however, she succeeded in ap- 
 pearing calm ; though, had not his attention been 
 drawn exclusively to the rifle, a man of his keen- 
 ness of Observation could scarce have failed to 
 detect the agony of mind with which the girl had 
 hearkened to his words. Her great self-command, 
 notwithstanding, enabled her to pursue the sub- 
 ject in a way still to deceive him. 
 
 “ What would you have me do with the weap- 
 on,” she asked, “ should that which you seem to 
 expect, take place ? ” 
 
 “ That’s just what I wanted to speak to you 
 about, Judith — that’s just it. There’s Chingach- 
 gook, now, though far from being parfect sar- 
 tainty with a rifle — for few red-skins ever get to 
 be that — though far from being parfect sartainty, 
 he is respectable, and is coming on. Neverthe- 
 less, he is my fri’nd ; and all the better fri’nd, 
 perhaps, because there never can be any hard 
 feelin’s atween us, touchin’ our gifts ; his’n bein’ 
 red, and mine bein’ altogether white. Now, I 
 should like to leave Killdeer to the Sarpent, 
 should any thing happen to keep me from doin§ 
 credit and honor to your precious gift, Judith.” 
 
 “ Leave it to whom you please, Deerslayer ; 
 the rifle is your own, to do with as you please ; 
 Chingachgook shall have it, should you never re- 
 turn to claim it, if that be your wish.” 
 
 “Has Hetty been consulted in this matter? 
 Property goes from the parent to the children, 
 and not to one child in partic’lar.” 
 
 “ If you place your right on that of the law, 
 Deerslayer, I fear none of us can claim to be 
 
TRIAL OF KILLDEER’S MERIT. 
 
 193 
 
 the owner. Thomas Hutter was no more the fa- 
 ther of Esther, than he was the father of Judith. 
 Judith and Esther we are, truly, having no other 
 name.” 
 
 “ There may be law in that, but there's no 
 great reason, gal. Accordin’ to the custom of 
 families, the goods are your’n, and there’s no one 
 here to gainsay it. If Hetty would only say that 
 she is willing, my mind would be quite at ease in 
 the matter. It’s true, Judith, that your sister 
 has neither your beauty nor your wit; but we 
 should be the tenderest of the rights and welfare 
 of the most weak-minded.” 
 
 The girl made no answer ; but, placing herself 
 at a window, she summoned her sister to her side. 
 When the question was put to Hetty, her simple- 
 minded and affectionate nature cheerfully assent- 
 ed to the proposal to confer on Deerslayer a full 
 right of ownership to the much-coveted rifle. 
 The latter now seemed perfectly happy, for the 
 time being, at least ; and, after again examining 
 and reexamining his prize, he expressed a deter- 
 mination to put its merits to a practical test be- 
 fore he left the spot. No boy could have been 
 more eager to exhibit the qualities of his trumpet 
 or his cross-bow, than this simple forester was to 
 prove those of his rifle. Returning to the plat- 
 form, he first took the Delaware aside and in- 
 formed him that this celebrated piece was to be- 
 come his property, in the event of any thing 
 serious befalling himself. 
 
 “ This is a new reason why you should be 
 wary, Sarpent, and not run into any oncalculated 
 danger,” the hunter added, “ for it will be a vic- 
 tory of itself, to a tribe, to own such a piece as . 
 this ! The Mingoes will turn green with envy ; 
 and, what is more, they will not ventur’ heed- 
 lessly neai a village where it is known to be 
 kept. So look well to it, Delaware, and remem- 
 ber that you’ve now to watch over a thing that 
 has all the valie of a creatur’, without its failin’s. 
 Hist may be, and should be precious to you, but 
 Killdeer will have the love and veneration of the 
 whole people.” 
 
 “ One rifle like another, Deerslayer,” returned 
 the Indian, in English, the language used by the 
 other, a little hurt at his friend’s lowering his 
 betrothed to the level of a gun. “ All kill ; all 
 wood and iron. Wife dear to heart ; rifle good 
 to shoot.” 
 
 “ And what is a man in the woods without 
 something to shoot with ? — a miserable trapper, 
 or a forlorn broom and basket maker, at the best. 
 Such a man may hoe corn, and keep, soul and 
 body together, but he can never know the savory 
 morsels of venison, or tell a bear’s ham from a 
 
 hog’s. Come, my fri’nd, such another occasion 
 may never offer ag’in, and I feel a strong craving 
 for a trial with this celebrated piece. You shall 
 bring out your own rifle, and I will just sight 
 Killdeer in a careless way, in order that we may 
 know a few of its secret vartues.” 
 
 As this proposition served to relieve the 
 thoughts of the whole party, by giving them a 
 new direction, while it was likely to produce no 
 unpleasant result, every one was willing .to enter 
 into it ; the girls bringing forth the fire-arms with 
 an alacrity bordering on cheerfulness. Hutter’s 
 armory was well supplied, possessing several 
 rifles, all of which were habitually kept loaded, in 
 readiness to meet any sudden demand for their 
 use. On the present occasion, it only remained 
 to freshen the primings and each piece was in a 
 state for service. This was soon done, as all as- 
 sisted in it, the females being as expert in this 
 part of the system of defence as their male com- 
 panions. 
 
 “ Now, Sarpent, we’ll begin in an humble way, 
 using old Tom’s commoners first, and coming to 
 your we’pon and Killdeer as the winding-up ob- 
 servations,” said Deerslayer, delighted to be 
 again, weapon in hand, ready to display his skill. 
 “ Here’s birds in abundance, some in, and some 
 over the lake, and they keep at just a good range, 
 hovering round the hut. Speak your mind, Dela- 
 ware, and p’int out the creatur’ you wish to 
 alarm. Here’s a diver, nearest in, off to the 
 eastward, and that’s a creatur’ tflat buries itself 
 at the flash, and will be like enough to try both 
 piece and powder.” 
 
 Chingachgook was a man of few words. No 
 sooner was the bird pointed out to him than he 
 took his aim and fired. The duck dived at the 
 flash, as had been expected, and the bullet skip- 
 ped harmlessly along the surface of the lake, first 
 striking the water within a few inches of the spot 
 where the bird had so lately swum. Deerslayer 
 laughed cordially and naturally ; but, at the same 
 time, he threw himself into an attitude of prepa- 
 ration, and stood keenly watching the sheet of 
 placid water. Presently a dark spot appeared, 
 and then the duck arose to breathe, and shook 
 its wings. While in this act, a bullet passed di- 
 rectly through its breast, actually turning it over 
 lifeless on its back. At the next moment, Deer- 
 slayer stood with the breech of his rifle on the 
 platform, as tranquil as if nothing had happened, 
 though laughing in his own peculiar manner. 
 
 “ There’s no great trial of the pieces in that ! ” 
 he said, as if anxious to prevent a false impression 
 of his own merit. “No, that proofs neither for 
 nor ag’in the rifles, seeing it was all quickness of 
 
194 
 
 THE DEERSLAYEB. 
 
 band and eye I took the bird at a disadvantage, 
 or he might have got under again afore the bullet 
 reached him. But the Sarpent is too wise to 
 mind such tricks, having long been used to 
 them. — Do you remember the time, chief, when 
 you thought yourself sartain of the wild-goose, 
 and I took him out of your very eyes, as it might 
 be, with a little smoke ? — Howsever, such things 
 pass for nothing atween fri’nds, and young folk 
 will have their fun, Judith. Ay, here’s just the 
 bird we want, for it’s as good for the fire as it is 
 for the aim, and nothing should be lost that can 
 be turned to just account. — There, farther north, 
 Delaware.” 
 
 The latter looked in the required direction, 
 and he soon saw a large black duck, floating in 
 3tately repose on the water. At that distant day, 
 when so few men were present to derange the 
 harmony of the wilderness, all the smaller lakes, 
 with which the interior of New York so abounds, 
 were places of resort for the migratory aquatic 
 birds ; and this sheet, like the others, had Once 
 been much frequented by all the varieties of the 
 duck, by the goose, the gull, and the loon. On 
 the appearance of Hutter, the spot was compara- 
 tively deserted for other sheets more retired and 
 remote, though some of each species continued to 
 resort thither, as indeed they do to the present 
 hour. At that instant, a hundred birds were 
 visible from the castle, sleeping on the water, 
 or laving their feathers in the limpid element, 
 though no other offered so favorable a mark 
 as that Deerslayer had just pointed out to his 
 friend. Chingachgook, as usual, spared his 
 words, and proceeded to execution. This time 
 his aim was more careful than before, and his 
 success in proportion. The bird had a wing crip- 
 pled, and fluttered along the water screaming, 
 materially increasing its distance from its ene- 
 mies. 
 
 “That bird must be put out of pain,” ex- 
 claimed Deerslayer, the moment the animal en- 
 deavored to rise on the wing ; “ and this is the 
 rifle and the eye to do it.” 
 
 The duck was still floundering along when the 
 fatal bullet overtook it, severing the head from 
 the neck as neatly as if it had been done with an 
 axe. Hist had indulged in a low cry of delight 
 at the success of the young Indian ; but now she 
 affected to frown and resent the greater skill of 
 his friend. The chief, on the contrary, uttered 
 the usual exclamation of pleasure, and his smile 
 proved how much he admired, and how little he 
 envied. 
 
 “Never mind the gal, Sarpent; never mind 
 Hist’s feelin’s, which will neither choke nor drown, 
 
 slay nor beautify,” said Deerslayer, laughing 
 “ ’Tis nat’ral for women to enter into their hus- 
 band’s victories and defeats, and you are as good 
 as man and wife, so far as prejudice and fri’nd- 
 ship go. Here is a bird overhead that will put 
 the pieces to the proof ; I challenge you to an up- 
 ward aim with a flying target. That’s a ra’al 
 proof, and one that needs sartain rifles, as well as 
 Sartain eyes.” 
 
 The species of eagle that frequents the water, 
 and lives on fish, was also present, and one was 
 hovering at a considerable height above the hut, 
 greedily watching for an opportunity to make a 
 swoop; its hungry young elevating their heads 
 from a nest that was in sight, in the naked sum- 
 mit of a dead pine. Chingachgook silently turned 
 a new piece against this bird, and, after carefully 
 watching his time, fired. A wider circuit than 
 common denoted that the messenger had passed 
 through the air at no great distance from the 
 bird, though it missed its object. Deerslayer, 
 whose aim was not more true than it was quick, 
 fired as soon as it was certain his friend had 
 missed, and the deep swoop that followed left it 
 momentarily doubtful whether the eagle was hit 
 or not. The marksman himself, however, pro- 
 claimed his own want of success, calling on hia 
 friend to seize another rifle, for he saw signs on the 
 part of the bird of an intention to quit the spot. 
 
 “ I made him wink, Sarpent ; I do think his 
 feathers were ruffled, but no blood has yet been 
 drawn, nor is that old piece fit for so nice and 
 quick a sight. Quick, Delaware ; “ you’ve now 
 a better rifle, and, Judith, bring out Killdeer, for 
 this is the occasion to try his merits, if he has 
 ’em ! ” 
 
 A general movement followed, each of the 
 competitors got ready, and the girls stood in 
 eager expectation of the result. The eagle had 
 made a wide circuit after his low swoop, and, fan- 
 ning his way upward, once more hovered nearly 
 over the hut, at a distance even greater than be- 
 fore. Chingachgook gazed at him, and then ex- 
 pressed his opinion of the impossibility of strik- 
 ing a bird at that great height, and while he was 
 so nearly perpendicular, as to the range. But a 
 low murmur from Hist produced a sudden im- 
 pulse, and he fired. The result showed how well 
 he had calculated, the eagle not even varying his 
 flight, sailing round and round in his airy circle, 
 and looking down, as if in contempt, at his foes. 
 
 “Now, Judith,” cried Deerslayer, laughing, 
 with glistening and delighted eye, “ we’ll see if 
 Killdeer isn’t Killeagle too ! — Give me room, Sar- 
 pent, and watch the reason of the aim, for by 
 reason any thing may be 1’amed.” 
 
NATURAL FEELINGS. 
 
 195 
 
 A careful sight followed, and was repeated 
 again and again, the bird continuing to rise high- 
 er and higher. Then followed the flash and the 
 report. The swift messenger sped upward, and, 
 at the next instant, the bird turned on its side, 
 and came swooping down, now struggling with 
 one wing and then with the other, sometimes 
 whirling in a circuit, next fanning desperately as 
 if conscious of its injury, until, having described 
 several complete circles around the spot, fell 
 heavily into the end of the ark. On examining 
 the body, it was found that the bullet had pierced 
 it about half-way between one of its wings and 
 die breastbone. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 “ Upon two stony tables, spread before her, 
 
 She leaned her bosom, more than stony hard ; 
 
 There slept the 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. 
 
 “ We’ve done an onthoughtful thing, Sarpent 
 — yes, Judith, we’ve done an onthoughtful thing 
 in taking life with an object no better than vani- 
 ty ! ” exclaimed Deerslayer, when the Delaware 
 held up the enormous bird by its wings, and ex- 
 hibited the dying eyes riveted on its enemies with 
 the gaze that the helpless ever fasten on their de- 
 stroyers. “ ’Twas more becomin’ two boys to 
 gratify their feelin’s in this onthoughtful manner, 
 than two warriors on a war-path, 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 Mingoes, 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. — Here, Judith ; there’s Killdeer ; 
 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 fire- 
 arms as well as how to use ’em. I haven’t larn’t 
 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 re- 
 j’icin’s in hand and eye, if that poor eagle was 
 only on its nest ag’in with its young, praisin’ the 
 Lord, for any thing 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 sel- 
 dom stop to weigh its consequences, or the physi- 
 cal suffering it may bring on the unoffending and 
 helpless. The Delaware understood what he 
 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, Ju- 
 dith, 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 Min- 
 goes, 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 wick- 
 ed 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 aggra- 
 vated 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 indulg- 
 ing in feelings that were natural to the man, and sa 
 strictly in accordance with his own unsophisti- 
 cated and just principles, that, in the course of 
 
196 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 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 deter- 
 mining 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 succeed- 
 ing 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 con- 
 nection 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 in- 
 tention, while Hist busied herself in making the 
 few arrangements that were thought necessary to 
 his comfort. All this was done without ostenta- 
 tion, but in a way that left Deerslayer fully ac- 
 quainted 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 re- 
 membered, just because the mouth that gives it, 
 isn’t likely to give it ag’in. No one knows what 
 will happen in the 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 under- 
 stood, the two Indians immediately withdrew as 
 desired, leaving the sisters, however, still stand- 
 ing at the young man’s side. A look of Deer- 
 slayer’s induced Judith to explain. 
 
 “You can advise Hetty as you land,” she 
 said, hastily ; “ 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 feel- 
 in’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 man. 
 ner amounted nearly to tenderness, though she 
 struggled hard to keep her emotions and appre- 
 hensions in subjection. 
 
 “ Why, simply that there are sights and doin’® 
 that one even as little gifted with reason and 
 memory as Hetty, here, might better not wit- 
 ness. So, Judith, you would do well to let me 
 land alone, and to keep your sister back.” 
 
 “ Never fear for me, Deerslayer,” put in Het- 
 ty, who comprehended enough of the discourse 
 to know its general drift ; “ I’m feeble-minded, 
 and that, they say, is an excuse for going any- 
 where ; and what that won’t excuse will be over- 
 looked 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, Mingoes as well as Delawares, do rever- 
 ence 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 
 you 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 un- 
 til 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 oc- 
 currence, 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 foot- 
 steps, and to beset your ways. The first is on- 
 commoh good looks, which is as dangerous a foe 
 to some young women as a whole tribe of Mingoes 
 could prove, and which calls for great watchful- 
 ness ; not to admire and praise, but to distrust 
 and sarcumvent. Yes, good looks may be sar- 
 cumvented, 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 
 
THE HUNTER’S FAREWELL COUNSELS. 
 
 197 
 
 ikies, 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 an eternal 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 dy- 
 in’ breath, to beware of the inimy ; fri’nd or ini- 
 my, as we deal with the gift.” 
 
 It was so grateful to Judith to hear these un- 
 equivocal 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 serious- 
 ly 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,” re- 
 turned 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 watch- 
 ful of, as I’ve already told you, Judith, is oncom- 
 mon 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 out- 
 break 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 
 werre so violent and uncontrollable that Deeislay- 
 er 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 aus- 
 tere and exacting are usually appeased by the 
 signs of contrition, but the nature of Deerslayer 
 did not require proofs of intense feeling so strong, 
 in order to bring him down to a level with the re- 
 
 grets felt by the girl herself. He arose as if an 
 adder had stung him, and the accents of the moth- 
 er that soothes her child were scarcely more gen- 
 tle 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 over- 
 done 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 rejoice 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 counte- 
 nance 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 inter- 
 posed, “ 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 Dela- 
 wares, or Hist, or even Hetty, to notice my weak- 
 ness. Farewell, Deerslayer ; may God bless and 
 protect you as your honest heart deserves bless- 
 ing 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 ascendency 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 re- 
 ceived a similar tribute from a subject, or the mis- 
 tress from her suitor. Feeling had flushed the 
 face and illuminated the whole countenance of the 
 girl, and her beauty was never more resplendent 
 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 theii 
 friend expected her appearance. 
 
198 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “ You know enough of red-skin natur’ and 
 red-skin usages, Wah-ta!-Wah, to see the con. 
 dition I am in on account of this furlough,” com- 
 menced 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 color, 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 inocu- 
 lated like. Bear your burden, 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 keep in’ 
 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 good 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 sus- 
 tained by the high resolution of one who had de- 
 cided on her course ; but her dark eyes were lumi- 
 nous 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 • 
 minute ere the Delaware advanced to the side of 
 his friend with the light, noiseless tread of an In 
 dian. 
 
 “ Come this-a-way, Sarpent, here more out of 
 sight of the women,” commenced the Deerslayer 
 “ for I’ve several things to say that musn’t so 
 much as be suspected, much less overheard. 
 You know too well the natur’ of furloughs and 
 Mingoes to have any doubts or misgivin’s con- 
 sarnin’ what is likely 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 its accordin’ to the gifts of 
 your people that the women should work, and 
 the men hunt ; but there’s such a thing as mod- 
 eration 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 stand- 
 in’ need never want for corn, or potatoes, or any 
 thing that the fields yield ; therefore, I hope the 
 hoe will never be put into the hands of any wife 
 of your’n. 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 sea- 
 son. This will set the maiden up, and will buy 
 labor for her, for a long time to come. I sup- 
 pose 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 cher- 
 ish. 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 coun- 
 cil-fire ; but forgetful moments may overtake us 
 all, and the practice of kind doin’, and kind 
 talkin’, is a wonderful advantage in kcepin’ 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 
 
DISCUSSION OF MISSIONARY DOCTRINES. 
 
 199 
 
 iliould 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 ind, but men of white blood and 
 Christian feelin’s have rather a gift for graves.” 
 
 “ It shall be done as my brother says,” re- 
 turned the Indian, gravely. “ If his mind is full, 
 let him empty it in the bosom of a friend.” 
 
 “ 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’ others come out, all will be right in 
 the long-run. There’s one thing, howsever, chief, 
 that does seem to be unreasonable, and ag’in na- 
 tur’, though the missionaries say it’s true ; and 
 bein’ of my religion and color, I feel bound to 
 believe them. They say an Injin may torment 
 and tortur’ the body to the 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 ; they 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 Chingach- 
 gook 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 — ah’s me ! 
 and some of us may see these things sooner than 
 we thought. I comprehend 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 pres- 
 ent 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 mission- 
 aries say. Howsever, I’m not ag’in the opinion 
 now ; for you must know, Sarpent, that the great 
 principle of Christianity is to believe without see- 
 ing ; and a man should always act up to his re- 
 ligion and principles, let them be what they 
 may.” 
 
 “ That is strange for a wise nation,” said the 
 Delaware, with emphasis. “ The red man looks 
 aard, that he may see and understand.” 
 
 u 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 
 oncomprehensible ; but when there’s so many 
 things about which it may be said we know noth r 
 ing 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 act yve, 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 dif- 
 ficulties in the way of comprehension, 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 to- 
 gether, and loved each other well in life ! ” 
 
 “ Do the missionaries teach their white breth- 
 ren to think it is so ? ” demanded the Indian, 
 with serious earnestness. “ The Delawares be- 
 lieve that good men and brave warriors will hunt 
 together in the same pleasant woods, let them be- 
 long to whatever tribe they may ; that all the un- 
 just 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, hereaf- 
 ter ! ” 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, Sar- 
 pent. Whenever I’ve done wrong, I’ve ginirally 
 
zoo 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 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 repent- 
 ance. Yow, 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 light, 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’ onreason- 
 able in that, but it’s agreeable to every man’s ex- 
 perience.” 
 
 “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 wickedness, 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 re- 
 turned 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 re- 
 cent 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 deli- 
 cacy that would have done credit to the highest 
 human refinement, he shrank from any exposure 
 of her secret that might subsequently cause re- 
 gret to the girl herself. He, therefore, deter- 
 mined to depart, now, and that without any fur- 
 
 ther manifestations of feeling either from himself 
 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, Deer- 
 slayer?” demanded the girl. “They say / 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 Mingoes 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 law- 
 ful 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 
 color, Hetty; but it is a pleasure and a satis- 
 faction 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 ind ; but I can 
 see that the wanderings of a warrior ar’n’t alto- 
 gether among brambles and difficulties. There’s 
 a bright side to a war-path, as well as to most 
 other things, if we’ll only have the wisdom to see 
 it, and the ginerositv to own it.” 
 
 “ And why should your war-path, as you call 
 it, come so near to an end, Deerslayer ? ” 
 
 “ Because, my good girl, my furlough cornea 
 so near to an ind. They’re likely to have pretty 
 much the same tarmination, as regards time — 
 one following on the heels of the other, as a mat. 
 ter of course.” 
 
 I “I don’t understand your meaning, Deer- 
 
A POINT OF HONOR. 
 
 201 
 
 slaver,” returned the girl, looking a little bewil- 
 dered. “ Mother always said people ought to 
 speak more plainly to me than to most other per- 
 sons, 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 theHurons, 
 and captyves can’t do, in all things, as they 
 please — •” 
 
 “ But how can you be a captive,” eagerly in- 
 terrupted the girl, “ when you are out here on 
 the lake, in father’s bark 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 my 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 bro- 
 ken, but the other can’t. Ropes and chains allow 
 of knives, and desait, and contrivances : but a 
 furlough can be neither cut, slipped, nor sarcum- 
 vented.” 
 
 “ What sort of a thing is a furlough, then, if 
 it be stronger than hemp or iron ? I never saw 
 a furlough.” 
 
 u 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 everybody else.” 
 
 “ You have had a good mother, in some mat- 
 ters, 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 
 Mingoes last night, and they let me come off to 
 see my fri’nds and send messages in to my own 
 color, 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 a mother and darter, or even 
 atween strangers, in the settlements, is called a 
 furlough, when given by one soldier to another, 
 on a war-path. And now I suppose you under- 
 stand 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 dia- 
 logue 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 consarnsone 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 al- 
 ready 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 war-path : 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.” 
 
 “ Vfhat can you have to say to me, Deer- 
 slayer ? 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 
 
m 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 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 rib- 
 bon 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 knew when it was well enough,” re- 
 turned 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 fre- 
 quented by hunters and trappers, needs to be on 
 her guard against evils she little dreams of.” 
 
 “ What harm can it be to think well of a fel- 
 low-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,” re- 
 turned the girl, in a reproving manner — much as 
 a parent rebukes a child for an act of indiscre- 
 tion. “ If you have any thing to say about Hur- 
 ry, 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 wom- 
 an 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 Ju- 
 dith.” 
 
 “Well, what of that? Everybody admires 
 Judith, she’s so handsome, and Hurry has told 
 me, again and again, how much he wishes to many 
 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 answer- 
 able 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, Deer- 
 slayer, 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.” 
 
 “ Ah’s 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 
 toward 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 comprehend- 
 ing its cause, however, seconded his efforts in a 
 way that soon rendered their timely return no lon- 
 ger a matter of doubt. Then, and then only, did 
 the young man suffer his exertions to flag, and 
 Hettv began again to prattle in her simple, con- 
 fiding manner, though nothing further was ut> 
 tered that it may be thought necessary to relate. 
 
DEERSLAYER AS GOOD AS HIS WORD. 
 
 203 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 Thou hast been busy, Death, this day, and yet 
 But half thy work is done 1 The gates of hell 
 Are thronged, yet twice ten thousand spirits more, 
 Who, from their warm and healthful tenements, 
 
 Fear no divorce, must, ere the sun go down, 
 
 Enter the world of woe ! ” 
 
 Southey. 
 
 One experienced in the signs of the heavens, 
 would have seen that the sun wanted but two or 
 three minutes of the zenith, when Deerslayer 
 landed on the point where the Hurons were now 
 encamped, nearly abreast of the castle. This spot 
 was similar to the one already described, with the 
 exception that the surface of the land was less 
 broken and less crowded with trees. Owing to 
 these two circumstances, it was all the better 
 suited to the purpose for which it had been select- 
 ed, the space beneath the branches bearing some 
 resemblance to a densely-wooded lawn. Favored 
 by its position and its spring, it had been much 
 resorted to by savages and hunters, and the nat- 
 ural grasses had succeeded their fires, leaving an 
 appearance of sward in places, a very unusual 
 accompaniment of the virgin forest. Nor was the 
 margin of water fringed with bushes, as on so 
 much of its shore, but the eye penetrated the 
 woods immediately on reaching the strand, com- 
 manding nearly the whole area of the projection. 
 
 If it was a point of honor with the Indian 
 warrior to redeem his word, when pledged to re- 
 turn and meet his death at a given hour, so was 
 it a point of characteristic pride to show no wom- 
 anish impatience, but to reappear as nearly as 
 possible at the appointed moment. It was well 
 not to exceed the grace accorded by the generosity 
 of the enemy, but it was better to meet it to a 
 minute. Something of this dramatic effect mingles 
 with most of the graver usages of the American 
 aborigines, and no doubt, like the prevalence of a 
 similar feeling among people more sophisticated 
 and refined, may be referred to a principle of 
 nature. We all love the wonderful, and when it 
 comes attended by chivalrous self-devotion and a 
 rigid regard to honor, it presents itself to our 
 admiration in a shape doubly attractive. As 
 respects Deerslayer, though he took a pride in 
 showing his white blood, by often deviating from 
 the usages of the red men, he frequently dropped 
 into their customs, and oftener into their feelings, 
 unconsciously to himself, in consequence of hav- 
 ing no other arbiters to appeal to, than their 
 judgments and tastes. On the present occasion, 
 he would have abstained from betraying a fever- 
 ish haste by a too speedy return, since it would 
 
 have contained a tacit admission that the time 
 asked for was more than had been wanted ; but, 
 on the other hand, had the idea occurred to him, 
 he would have quickened his movements a little, 
 in order to avoid the dramatic appearance of re- 
 turning at the precise instant set as the utmost 
 limit of his absence. Still, accident had interfered 
 to defeat the last intention, for when the young 
 man put his foot on the point, and advanced with 
 a steady tread toward the group of chiefs that 
 was seated in grave array on a fallen tree, the 
 oldest of their number cast his eye upward at an 
 opening in the trees, and pointed out to his com- 
 panions the startling fact that the sun was just 
 entering a space that was known to mark the 
 zenith. A common but low exclamation of sur- 
 prise and admiration escaped every mouth, and 
 the grim warriors looked at each other ; some 
 with envy and disappointment, some with astonish- 
 ment, at the precise accuracy of their victim, and 
 others with a more generous and liberal feeling. 
 The American Indian always deemed his moral 
 victories the noblest, prizing the groans and yield- 
 ing of his victim under torture more than the 
 trophy of his scalp ; and the trophy itself more 
 than his life. To slay, and not to bring off the 
 proof of victory, indeed, was scarcely deemed 
 honorable ; even these rude and fierce tenants of 
 the forest, like their more nurtured brethren of 
 the court and the camp, having set up for them- 
 selves imaginary and arbitrary points of honor, to 
 supplant the conclusions of the right, and the 
 decisions of reason. 
 
 The Hurons had been divided in their opinions 
 concerning the probability of their captive’s re- 
 turn. Most among them, indeed, had not expected 
 it possible for a pale-face to come back volun- 
 tarily, and meet the known penalties of an Indian 
 torture ; but a few of the seniors expected better 
 things from one who had already shown himself 
 so singularly cool, brave, and upright. The party 
 had come to its decision, however, less in the 
 expectation of finding the pledge redeemed, than 
 in the hope of disgracing the Delawares by cast- 
 ing into their teeth the delinquency of one bred 
 in their villages. They would have greatly pre- 
 ferred that Chingachgook should be their prisoner, 
 and prove the traitor ; but the pale-face scion of 
 the hated stock was no bad substitute, for their 
 purposes, failing in their designs against the an- 
 cient stem. With a view to render the triumph 
 as signal as possible, in the event of the hour’? 
 passing without the reappearance of the hunter, 
 all the warriors and scouts of the party had been 
 called in ; and the whole band, men, women, and 
 children, was now assembled at this single point, 
 
204 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 to be a witness of the expected scene. As the 
 castle was in plain view, and by no means distant* 
 it was easily watched by daylight ; and it being 
 thought that its inmates were now limited to 
 Hurry, the Delaware, and the two girls, no appre- 
 hensions were felt of their being able to escape 
 unseen. A large raft, having a breastwork of 
 logs, had been prepared, and was in actual readi- 
 ness to be used against either ark or castle, as 
 occasion might require, so soon as the fate of 
 Deerslayer was determined ; the seniors of the 
 party having come to the opinion that it was get- 
 ting to be hazardous to delay their departure for 
 Canada beyond the coming night. In short, the 
 band waited merely to dispose of this single affair, 
 ere it brought matters to a crisis, and prepared to 
 commence its retreat toward the distant waters I 
 of Ontario. 
 
 It was an imposing scene into which Deer- 
 slaycr now found himself advancing. All the 
 older warriors were seated on the trunk of the 
 fallen tree, waiting his approach with grave deco- 
 rum. On the right, stood the young men, armed, 
 while the left was occupied by the women and 
 children. In the centre was an open space of 
 considerable extent, always canopied by leaves, 
 but from which the underbrush, dead wood, and 
 other obstacles, had been carefully removed. The 
 more open area had probably been much used by 
 former parties, for this was the place where the 
 appearance of a sward was the most decided. 
 The arches of the woods, even at high noon, cast 
 their sombre shadows on the spot, which the 
 brilliant rays of the sun that struggled through 
 the leaves contributed to mellow, and, if such an 
 expression can be used, to illuminate. It was 
 probably from a similar scene that the mind of 
 man first got its idea of the effects of Gothic 
 tracery and churchly hues ; this temple of Nature 
 producing some such effect, so far as light and 
 shadows were concerned, as the well-known off- 
 spring of human invention. 
 
 As was not unusual among the tribes and 
 wandering bands of the aborigines, two chiefs 
 shared, in nearly equal degrees, the principal and 
 primitive authority that was wielded over these 
 children of the forest. There were several who 
 might claim the distinction of being chief men, 
 but the two in question were so much superior to 
 all the rest in influence, that, when they agreed, 
 no one disputed their mandates ; and when they 
 were divided, the band hesitated, like men who 
 had lost their governing principle of action. It 
 was also in conformity with practice — perhaps we 
 might add, in conformity with Nature, that one of 
 the chiefs was indebted to his mind for his influ- 
 
 ence, whereas ti e other owed his distinction alto- 
 gether to qualities that were physical. One was a 
 senior well known for eloquence in debate, wisdom 
 in council, and prudence in measures ; while his 
 great competitor, if not his rival, was a brave, dis- 
 tinguished in war, notorious for ferocity, and re- 
 markable, in the way of intellect, for nothing but 
 the cunning and expedients of the war-path. The 
 first was Rivenoak, who has already been intro- 
 duced to the reader, while the last was called le 
 Panthere, in the language of the Canadas ; or the 
 Panther, to resort to the vernacular of the Eng- 
 lish colonies. The appellation of the fighting 
 chief was supposed to indicate the qualities of the 
 warrior, agreeably to a practice of the red man’s 
 nomenclature; ferocity, cunning, and treachery 
 being, perhaps, the distinctive features of his 
 character. The title had been received from the 
 French, and was prized so much the more from 
 that circumstance, the Indian submitting profound- 
 ly to the greater intelligence of his pale-face allies, 
 in most things of this nature. How well the 
 sobriquet was merited, will be seen in the sequel. 
 
 Rivenoak and the Panther sat side by side, 
 awaiting the approach of their prisoner, as Deer- 
 slayer put his moccasined foot on the strand ; nor 
 did either move or utter a syllable until the young 
 man had advanced into the centre of the area, 
 and proclaimed his presence with his voice. This 
 was done firmly, though in the simple manner 
 that marked the character of the individual. 
 
 “ Here I am, Mingoes,” he said, in the dialect 
 of the Delawares, a language that most present 
 understood ; “ here I am, and there is the sun. 
 One is not more true to the laws of Natur’, than 
 the other has proved true to his word. I am your 
 prisoner ; do with me what you please. My busi- 
 ness with man and ’arth is settled ; nothing re- 
 mains now but to meet the white man’s God, ac- 
 cordin’ to a white man’s duties and gifts.” 
 
 A murmur of approbation escaped even the 
 women, at this address, and, for an instant, there 
 was a strong and pretty general desire to adopt 
 into the tribe one who owned so brave a spirit 
 Still there were dissenters from this wish, among 
 the principal of whom might be classed the Pan- 
 ther, and his sister, le Sumach, so called from the 
 number of her children, who was the widow of le 
 Loup Cervier, now known to have fallen by the 
 hand of the captive. Native ferocity held one in 
 subjection, while the corroding passion of revenge 
 prevented the other from admitting any gentler 
 feeling at the moment. Not so with Rivenoak. 
 This chief arose, stretched his arm before him, in 
 a gesture of courtesy, and paid his compliments 
 with an ease and dignity that a prince might have 
 
THE CAPTIVE BEFORE HIS JUDGES. 
 
 205 
 
 envied. As, in that band, his wisdom and elo- 
 quence were confessedly without rivals, he knew 
 that on himself would properly fall the duty of 
 first replying to the speech of the pale-face. 
 
 “ Pale-face, you are honest,” said the Huron 
 orator. “ My people are happy in having cap- 
 tured a man, and not a skulking fox. We now 
 know you ; we shall treat you like a brave. If 
 you have slain one of our warriors, and helped to 
 kill others, you have a life of your own ready to 
 give away in return. Some of my young men 
 thought that the blood of the pale-face was too 
 thin ; that it would refuse to run under the Hu- 
 ron knife. You will show them it is not so ; your 
 heart is stout as well as your body. It is a pleas- 
 ure to make such a prisoner ; should my warriors 
 say that the death of le Loup Cervier ought not to 
 be forgotten, and that he cannot travel toward the 
 land of spirits alone, that his enemy must be sent 
 to overtake him, they will remember that he fell 
 by the hand of a brave, and send you after him 
 with such signs of our friendship as shall not 
 made him ashamed to keep your company. I 
 have spoken ; you know what I have said.” 
 
 True enough, Mingo, all true as the gospel,” 
 returned the simple-minded hunter ; “ you have 
 spoken, and I do know, not only what you have 
 said , but, what is still more important, what you 
 mean. I dare to say your warrior, the Lynx, was 
 a stout-hearted brave, and worthy of your fri’nd- 
 ship and respect, but I do not feel unworthy to 
 keep his company, without any passport from 
 your hands. Nevertheless, here I am, ready to 
 receive judgment from your council, if, indeed, 
 the matter was not detarmined among you afore I 
 got back.” 
 
 “ My old men would not sit in council over a 
 pale-face until they saw him among them,” an- 
 swered Rivenoak, looking around him a little 
 ironically ; “ they said it would be like sitting in 
 council over the winds ; they go where they will, 
 and come back as they see fit, and not otherwise. 
 There was one voice that spoke in your favor, 
 Deerslayer, but it was alone, like the song of the 
 wren whose mate has been struck by the hawk.” 
 
 “ I thank that voice, whosever it may have 
 been, Mingo, and will say it was as true a voice, as 
 the rest were lying voices. A furlough is as bind- 
 ing on a pale-face, if he be honest, as it is on a 
 red-skin ; and was it not so, I would never bring 
 disgrace on the Delawares, among whom I may 
 be said to have received my edication. But words 
 are useless, and lead to braggin’ feelin’s ; here I 
 am : act your will on me.” 
 
 Rivenoak made a sign of acquiescence, and 
 then a short conference was privately held among 
 
 the chiefs. As soon as the latter ended, three or 
 four young men fell back from among the armed 
 group, and disappeared. Then it was signified to 
 the prisoner that he was at liberty to go at large 
 on the point, until a council was held concerning 
 his fate. There was more of seeming, than of 
 real confidence, however, in this apparent liber- 
 ality, inasmuch as the young men mentioned 
 already formed a line of sentinels across the 
 breadth of the point, inland, and escape from 
 any other part was out of the question. Even 
 the canoe was removed beyond this line of senti- 
 nels, to a spot where it was considered safe from 
 any sudden attempt. These precautions did not 
 proceed from a failure of confidence, but from the 
 circumstance that the prisoner had now complied 
 with all the required conditions of his parole, and 
 it would have been considered a commendable 
 and honorable exploit to escape from his foes. 
 So nice, indeed, were the distinctions drawn by 
 the savages, in cases of this nature, that they of- 
 ten gave their victims a chance to evade the tor- 
 ture, deeming it as creditable to the captors to 
 overtake, or to outwit a fugitive, when his exer- 
 tions were supposed to be quickened by the ex- 
 treme jeopardy of his situation, as it was for him 
 to get clear from so much extraordinary vigilance. 
 
 Nor was Deerslayer unconscious of, or forget- 
 ful of, his rights and of his opportunities. Could 
 he now have seen any probable opening for an 
 escape, the attempt would not have been delayed 
 a minute. But the case seemed desperate. He 
 was aware of the line of sentinels, and felt the 
 difficulty of breaking through it, unharmed. The 
 lake offered no advantages, as the canoe would 
 have given his foes the greatest facilities for 
 overtaking him ; else would he have found it no 
 difficult task to swim as far as the castle. As he 
 walked about the point, he even examined the 
 spot to ascertain if it offered no place of con- 
 cealment ; but its openness, its size, and the hun- 
 dred watchful glances that were turned toward 
 him, even while those who made them affected 
 not to see him, prevented any such expedient 
 from succeeding. The dread and disgrace of 
 failure had no influence on Deerslayer, who 
 deemed it ever a point of honor to reason and 
 feel like a white man, rather than as an India^ 
 and who felt it a sort of duty to do all he could 
 that did not involve a dereliction from principle, 
 in order to save his life. Still he hesitated about 
 making the effort, for he also felt that he ought 
 to see the chance of success before he commit- 
 ted himself. 
 
 In the mean time the business of the camp 
 appeared to proceed in its regular train. The 
 
206 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 chiefs consulted apart, admitting no one but the 
 Sumach to their councils ; for she, the widow of the 
 fallen warrior, had an exclusive right to be heard 
 on such an occasion. The young men strolled 
 about in indolent listlessness, awaiting the result 
 with Indian impatience, while the females pre- 
 pared the feast that was to celebrate the termina- 
 tion of the affair, whether it proved fortunate or 
 otherwise for our hero. No one betrayed feel- 
 ing ; and an indifferent observer, beyond the ex- 
 treme watchfulness of the sentinels, would have 
 detected no extraordinary movement or sensa- 
 tion to denote the real state of things. Two or 
 three old women put their heads together, and it 
 appeared unfavorably to the prospect of Deer- 
 slayer, by their scowling looks and angry ges- 
 tures ; but a group of Indian girls were evidently 
 animated by a different impulse, as was apparent 
 by stolen glances that expressed pity and regret. 
 In this condition of the camp, an hour soon 
 glided away. 
 
 Suspense is, perhaps, the feeling, of all others, 
 that is most difficult to be supported. When 
 Deerslayer landed, he fully expected in the 
 course of a few minutes to undergo the tortures 
 of an Indian revenge, and he was prepared to 
 meet his fate manfully ; but the delay proved far 
 more trying than the nearer approach of suffer- 
 ing, and the intended victim began seriously to 
 meditate some desperate effort at escape, as it 
 might be from sheer anxiety to terminate the 
 scene, when he was suddenly summoned to ap- 
 pear, once more, in front of his judges, who had 
 already arranged the band in its former order, in 
 in readiness to receive him. 
 
 “ Killer of the Deer,” commenced Rivenoak, 
 as soon as his captive stood before him, “ my 
 aged men have listened to wise words ; they are 
 ready to speak. You are a man whose fathers 
 came from beyond the rising sun ; we are children 
 of the setting sun ; we turn our faces toward the 
 Great Sweet Lakes when we look toward our 
 villages. It may be a wise country and full of 
 riches toward the morning, but it is very pleas- 
 ant toward the evening. We love most to look 
 in that direction. When we gaze at the east we 
 feel afraid, canoe after canoe bringing more and 
 more of your people in the track of the sun, as 
 if their land was so full as to run over. The red 
 men are few already ; they have need of help. 
 One of our best lodges has lately been emptied 
 by the death of its master ; it will be a long time 
 before his son can grow big enough to sit in his 
 place. There is his widow ! she will want venison 
 to feed her and her children, for her sons are yet 
 like the young of the robin before they quit the 
 
 nest. By your hand has this great calamity be- 
 fallen her. She has two duties : one to le Loup 
 Cervier, and one to his children. Scalp for scalp, 
 life for life, blood for blood, is one law ; to feed 
 her young, another. We know you, Killer of the 
 Deer. You are honest ; when you say a thing it 
 is so. You have but one tongue, and that is not 
 forked like a snake’s. Your head is never hid in 
 the grass ; all can see it. What you say that will 
 you do. You are just. When you have done 
 wrong, it is your wish to do right again as soon 
 as you can. Here is the Sumach ; she is alone in 
 her wigwam, with children crying around her for 
 food ; yonder is a rifle, it is loaded and ready to be 
 fired. Take the gun ; go forth and shoot a deer ; 
 bring the venison and lay it before the widow of 
 le Loup Cervier ; feed her children ; call yourself 
 her husband. After which, your heart will no 
 longer be Delaware but Huron ; le Sumach’s ears 
 will not hear the cries of her children ; my people 
 will count the proper number of warriors.” 
 
 “ I feared this, Rivenoak,” answered Deer- 
 slayer, when the other had ceased speaking; 
 “ yes, I did dread that it would come to this. 
 Howsever, the truth is soon told, and that will put 
 an end to all expectations on this head. Mingo, 
 I’m white, and Christian-born ; ’twould ill become 
 me to take a wife, under red-skin forms, from 
 among heathen. That which I wouldn’t do in 
 peaceable times, and under a bright sun, still less 
 would I do behind clouds, in order to save my 
 life. I may never marry ; most likely Providence, 
 in putting me up here in the woods, has intended 
 I should live single, and without a lodge of my 
 own ; but should such a thing come to pass, none 
 but a woman of my own color and gifts shall 
 darken the door of my wigwam. As for feeding 
 the young of your dead warrior, I would do that 
 cheerfully, could it be done without discredit ; 
 but it cannot, seeing that I can never live in a 
 Huron village. Your own young men must find 
 the Sumach in venison, and the next time she 
 marries, let her take a husband whose legs are not 
 long enough to overrun territory that don’t be- 
 long to him. We fou’t a fair battle, and he fell; 
 in this there is nothin’ but what a brave expects, 
 and should be ready to meet. As for getting a 
 Mingo heart, as well might you expect to see gray 
 hairs on a boy, or the blackberry growing on the 
 pine. No, no, Huron ; my gifts are white so far as 
 wives are consarned ; it is Delaware in all things 
 touchin’ Injins.” 
 
 These words were scarcely out of the mouth 
 of Deerslayer before a common murmur betrayed 
 the dissatisfaction with which they had been 
 heard. The aged women, in particular, were 
 
DEATH OF AN IROQUOIS CHIEF. 
 
 207 
 
 foud in their expressions of disgust ; and the gen- 
 tle Sumach herself, a woman quite old enough to 
 be our hero’s mother, was not the least pacific in 
 her denunciations. But all the other manifesta- 
 tions of disappointment and discontent were 
 thrown into the background by the fierce resent- 
 ment of the Panther. This grim chief had 
 thought it a degradation to permit his sister to 
 become the wife of a pale-face of the Yengeese, 
 at all, and had only given a reluctant consent to 
 the arrangement — one by no means unusual 
 among the Indians, however — at the earnest 
 solicitations of the bereaved widow ; and it goad- 
 ed him to the quick, to find his condescension 
 slighted, the honor he had with so much regret 
 been persuaded to accord, contemned. The ani- 
 mal from which he got his name does not glare 
 on his intended prey with more frightful ferocity, 
 than his eyes gleamed on the captive ; nor was 
 his arm backward in seconding the fierce resent- 
 ment that almost consumed his breast. 
 
 “ Dog of the pale-faces ! ” he exclaimed, in 
 Iroquois, “ go yell among the curs of your own 
 evil hunting-grounds ! ” 
 
 The denunciation was accompanied by an ap- 
 propriate action. Even while speaking, his arm 
 was lifted, and the tomahawk hurled. Luckily 
 the loud tones of the speaker had drawn the eye 
 of Deerslayer toward him, else would that mo- 
 ment have probably closed his career. So great 
 was the dexterity with which this dangerous 
 weapon was thrown, and so deadly the intent, that 
 it would have riven the skull of the prisoner, had 
 he not stretched forth an arm, and caught the 
 handle in one of its turns, with a readiness quite 
 as remarkable as the skill with which the missile 
 had been hurled. The projectile force was so 
 great, notwithstanding, that when Deerslayer’s 
 arm was arrested, his hand was raised above and 
 behind his own head, and in the very attitude 
 necessary to return the attack. It is not certain 
 whether the circumstance of finding himself un- 
 expectedly in this menacing posture and armed, 
 tempted the young man to retaliate, or whether 
 sudden resentment overcame his forbearance and 
 prudence. His eye kindled, however, and a 
 small red spot appeared on each cheek, while he 
 cast all his energy into the effort of his arm and 
 threw back the weapon at his assailant. The un- 
 expectedness of this blow contributed to its suc- 
 cess; the Panther neither raising an arm nor 
 bending his head to avoid it. The keen little axe 
 struck the victim in a perpendicular line with the 
 nose, directly between the eyes, literally braining 
 him on the spot. Sallying forward, as the ser- 
 pent darts at its enemy even while receiving its 
 14 
 
 own death-wound, this man of powerful frame 
 fell his length into the open area formed by the 
 circle, quivering in death. A common rush to 
 his relief left the captive, for a single instant, 
 quite without the crowd ; and, willing to make 
 one desperate effort for life, he bounded off with 
 the activity of a deer. There was but a breathless 
 instant, when the whole band, old and young, 
 women and children, abandoning the lifeless body 
 of the Panther where it lay, raised the yell of 
 alarm, and followed in pursuit. 
 
 Sudden as had been the event which induced 
 Deerslayer to make this desperate trial of speed, 
 his mind was not wholly unprepared for the fear- 
 ful emergency. In the course of the past hour, 
 he had pondered well on the chances of such an 
 experiment, and had shrewdly calculated all the 
 details of success and failure. At the first leap, 
 therefore, his body was completely under the di- 
 rection of an intelligence that turned all its efforts 
 to the best account, and prevented every thing like 
 hesitation or indecision, at the important instant 
 of the start. To this alone was he indebted for 
 the first great advantage, that of getting through 
 the line of sentinels unharmed. The manner in 
 which this was done, though sufficiently simple, 
 merits a description. 
 
 Although the shores of the point were not 
 fringed with bushes, as was the case with most 
 of the others on the lake, it was owing alto- 
 gether to the circumstance that the spot had been 
 so much used by hunters and fishermen. This 
 fringe commenced on what might be termed the 
 main land, and was as dense as usual, extending 
 in long lines both north and south. In the latter 
 direction, then, Deerslayer held his way ; and, as 
 the sentinels were a little without the commence- 
 ment of this thicket before the alarm was clearly 
 communicated to them, the fugitive had gained 
 its cover. To run among the bushes, however, 
 was out of the question, and Deerslayer held his 
 way for some forty or fifty yards in the water, 
 which was barely knee-deep, offering as great an 
 obstacle to the speed of his pursuers as it did to 
 his own. As soon as a favorable spot presented, 
 he darted through the line of bushes, and issued 
 into the open woods. 
 
 Several rifles were discharged at Deerslayer 
 while in the water, and more followed as he came 
 out into the comparative exposure of the clear for- 
 est. But the direction of his line of flight, which 
 partially crossed that of the fire, the haste with 
 which the weapons had been aimed, and the gener- 
 al confusion that prevailed in the camp, prevented 
 any harm from being done. Bullets whistled past 
 him, and many cut twigs from the branches 
 
208 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 at his side, but not one touched even his dress. 
 The delay caused by these fruitless attempts was of 
 great service to the fugitive, who had gained more 
 than a hundred yards on even the leading men of 
 the Hurons, ere something like concert and order 
 had entered into the chase. To think of follow- 
 ing with rifle in hand was out of the question ; 
 and, after emptying their pieces in vague hopes 
 of wounding their captive, the best runners of the 
 Indians threw them aside, calling out to the wom- 
 en and boys to recover and load them again, as 
 soon as possible. 
 
 Deerslayer knew too well the desperate nature 
 of the struggle in which he was engaged, to lose 
 one of the precious moments. He also knew that 
 his only hope was to run in a straight line, for as 
 soon as he began to turn, or double, the greater 
 number of his pursuers would put escape out of 
 the question. He held his way, therefore, in a 
 diagonal direction, up the acclivity, which was 
 neither very high nor very steep, in this part of 
 the mountain, but which was sufficiently toilsome 
 for one contending for life, to render it painfully 
 oppressive. There, however, he slackened his 
 speed, to recover breath, proceeding even at a 
 quick walk, or slow trot, along the more difficult 
 parts of the way. The Hurons were whooping 
 and leaping behind him ; but this he disregarded^ 
 well knowing they must overcome the difficulties 
 he had surmounted, ere they could reach the ele- 
 vation to which he had attained. The summit of 
 the first hill was now quite near him, and he saw, 
 by the formation of the land, that a deep glen in- 
 tervened, before the base of a second hill could be 
 reached. Walking deliberately to the summit, he 
 glanced eagerly about him in every direction, in 
 quest of a cover. None offered in the ground ; 
 but a fallen tree lay near him, and desperate cir- 
 cumstances required desperate remedies. This tree 
 lay in a line parallel to the glen, at the brow of 
 the hill ; to leap on it, and then to force his per- 
 son as close as possible under its lower side, took 
 but a moment. Previously to disappearing from 
 his pursuers, however, Deerslayer stood on the 
 height, and gave a cry of triumph, as if exulting 
 at the sight of the descent that lay before him. 
 In the next instant he was stretched beneath the 
 tree. 
 
 No sooner was this expedient adopted, than 
 the young man ascertained how desperate had 
 been his own efforts, by the violence of the pulsa- 
 tions in his frame. He could hear his heart beat, 
 and his breathing was like the action of a bellows 
 in quick motion. Breath was gained, however, 
 and the heart soon ceased to throb as if about to 
 break through its confinement. The footsteps of 
 
 those who toiled up the opposite side of the ac* 
 clivity were now audible, and presently voices and 
 treads announced the arrival of the pursuers. 
 The foremost shouted as they reached the height ; 
 then, fearful that their enemy would escape under 
 favor of the descent, each leaped upon the fallen 
 tree, and plunged into the ravine, trusting to get 
 a sight of the pursued, ere he reached the bottom. 
 In this manner Huron followed Huron, until Nat- 
 ty began to hope the whole had passed. Others 
 succeeded, however, until quite forty had leaped 
 over the tree ; and then he counted them, as the 
 surest mode of ascertaining how many could be 
 behind. Presently all were i-n the bottom of the 
 glen, quite a hundred feet below him, and some 
 had even ascended part of the opposite hill, when 
 it became evident an inquiry was making as to 
 the direction he had taken. This was the criti- 
 cal moment ; and one of nerves less steady, or of 
 a training that had been neglected, would have 
 seized it to rise and fly. Not so with Deerslayer. 
 He lay quiet, watching with jealous vigilance 
 every movement below, and fast regaining his 
 breath. 
 
 The Hurons now resembled a pack of hounds 
 at fault. Little was said, but each man ran about, 
 examining the dead leaves, as the hound hunts 
 for the lost scent. The great number of mocca- 
 sins that had passed made the examination diffi- 
 cult, though the in-toe of an Indian was easily to 
 be distinguished from the freer and wider step of 
 a white man. Believing that no more pursuers 
 remained behind, and hoping to steal away unseen, 
 Deerslayer suddenly threw himself over the tree, 
 and fell on the upper side. This achievement 
 appeared to be effected successfully, and hope 
 beat high in the bosom of the fugitive. Rising 
 to his hands and feet, after a moment lost in lis- 
 tening to the sounds in the glen, in order to as- 
 certain if he had been seen, the young man next 
 scrambled to the top of the hill, a distance of 
 only ten yards, in the expectation of getting its 
 brow between him and his pursuers, and himself 
 so far under cover. Even this was effected, and 
 he rose to his feet, walking swiftly but steadily 
 along the summit, in a direction opposite to that 
 in which he had first fled. The nature of the 
 calls in the glen, however, soon made him uneasy, 
 and he sprang upon the summit, again, in order 
 to reconnoitre. No sooner did he reach the 
 height than he was seen, and the chase renewed. 
 As it was better footing on the level ground, 
 Deerslayer now avoided the side-hill, holding his 
 flight along the ridge ; while the Hurons, judging 
 from the general formation of the land, saw that 
 the ridge would soon melt into the hollow, and 
 
A RUN FOR LIFE. 
 
 209 
 
 kept to the latter, as the easiest mode of heading 
 the fugitive. A few, at the same time, turned 
 south, with a view to prevent his escaping in that 
 direction; while some crossed his trail toward 
 the water, in order to prevent his retreat by the 
 take, running southerly. 
 
 The situation of Deerslayer was now more 
 critical than it ever had been. He was virtually 
 surrounded on three sides, having the lake on the 
 fourth. But he had pondered well on all the 
 chances, and took his measures with coolness, 
 even while at the top of his speed. As is gener- 
 ally the case with the vigorous border-men, he 
 could outrun any single Indian among his pur- 
 suers, who were principally formidable to him on 
 account of their numbers, and the advantages they 
 possessed in position; and he would not have 
 hesitated to break off, in a straight line, at any 
 spot, could he have got the whole band again 
 fairly behind him. But no such chance did, or 
 indeed could, now offer ; and when he found that 
 he was descending toward the glen, by the melt- 
 ing away of the ridge, he turned short, at right 
 angles to his previous course, and went down the 
 declivity with tremendous velocity, holding his 
 way toward the shore. Some of his pursuers 
 came panting up the hill, in direct chase, while 
 most still kept on, in the ravine, intending to head 
 him at its termination. 
 
 Deerslayer had now a different though a des- 
 perate project in view. Abandoning all thoughts 
 of escape by the woods, he made the best of his 
 way toward the canoe. He knew where it lay : 
 could it be reached, he had only to run the gant- 
 let of a few rifles, and success would be certain. 
 None of the warriors had kept their weapons, 
 which would have retarded their speed, and 
 the risk would come either from the uncertain 
 hands of the women, or from those of some well- 
 grown boy ; though most of the latter were 
 already out in hot pursuit. Every thing seemed 
 propitious to the execution of this plan, and, the 
 course being a continued descent, the young man 
 went over the ground at a rate that promised a 
 speedy termination to his toil. 
 
 As Deerslayer approached the point, several 
 women and children were passed, but, though the 
 former endeavored to cast dried branches between 
 his legs, the terror inspired by his bold retaliation 
 on the redoubted Panther was so great, that none 
 dared come near enough seriously to molest him. 
 He went by all triumphantly, and reached the 
 fringe of bushes. Plunging through these, our 
 Hero found himself once more in the lake and 
 within fifty feet of the canoe. Here he ceased to 
 *un. for he well understood that his breath was 
 
 now all-important to him. He even stooped, as 
 he advanced, and cooled his parched mouth, by 
 scooping up water in his hand to drink. Still the 
 moments pressed, and he soon stood at the sido 
 of the canoe. The first glance told him that the 
 paddles had been removed ! This was a sore 
 disappointment after all his efforts, and, for a 
 single moment, he thought of turning and of 
 facing his foes by walking with dignity into the 
 centre of the camp again. But an infernal yell, 
 such as the American savage alone can raise, 
 proclaimed the Quick approach of the nearest of 
 his pursuers, and the instinct of life triumphed. 
 Preparing himself duly, and giving a right direc- 
 tion to its bows, he ran off into the water bearing 
 the canoe before him, and threw all his strength 
 and skill into a last effort, and cast himself for- 
 ward so as to fall into the bottom of the light 
 craft, without materially impeding its way. Here 
 he remained on his hack, both to regain his 
 breath and to cover his person from the deadly 
 rifle. The lightness, which was such an advantage 
 in paddling the canoe, now operated unfavorably. 
 The material was so like a feather that the boat 
 had no momentum ; else would the impulse in 
 that smooth and placid sheet have impelled it to 
 a distance from the shore, that would have ren- 
 dered paddling with the hands safe. Could such 
 a point once be reached, Deerslayer thought he 
 might get far enough out to attract the attention 
 of Chingachgook and Judith, who would not fail 
 to come to his relief with other canoes, a circum- 
 stance that promised every thing. As the young 
 man lay in the bottom of the canoe, he watched 
 its movements, by studying the tops of the trees 
 on the mountain-side, and judged of his distance 
 by the ‘time and the motion. Voices on the shore 
 were now numerous, and he heard something said 
 about manning the raft, which fortunately for the 
 fugitive lay at a considerable distance on the 
 other side of the point. 
 
 Perhaps the situation of Deerslayer had not 
 been more critical that day than it was at this 
 moment. It certainly had not been one half as 
 tantalizing. He lay perfectly quiet for two or 
 three minutes, trusting to the single sense of 
 hearing, confident that the noise in the lake 
 would reach his ears, did any one venture to ap- 
 proach by swimming. Once or twice he fancied 
 that the element was stirred by the cautious 
 movement of an arm, and then he perceived it 
 was the wash of the water on the pebbles of the 
 strand ; for, in mimicry of the ocean, it is seldom 
 that those little lakes are so totally tranquil, as 
 not to possess a slight heaving and setting on 
 their shores. Suddenly all the voices ceased, and 
 
210 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 a death-like stillness pervaded the spot ; a quiet- 
 ness as profound as if all lay in the repose of 
 inanimate life. By this time the canoe had drifted 
 so far as to render nothing visible to Deerslayer, 
 as he lay on his back, except the blue void of 
 space, and a few of those brighter rays that pro- 
 ceed from the effulgence of the sun, marking his 
 proximity. It was not possible to endure this 
 uncertainty long. The young man well knew that 
 the profound stillness foreboded evil, the savages 
 never being so silent as when about to strike a 
 blow ; resembling the stealthy foot of the panther 
 ere he takes his leap. He took out a knife, and 
 was about to cut a hole through the bark in order 
 to get a view of the shore, when he paused from 
 a dread of being seen in the operation, which 
 would direct the enemy where to aim their bullets. 
 At this instant a rifle was fired, and the ball 
 pierced both sides of the canoe, within eighteen 
 inches of the spot where his head lay. This was 
 close work, but our hero had too lately gone 
 through that which was closer to be appalled. 
 He lay still half a minute longer, and then he saw 
 the summit of an oak coming slowly within his 
 narrow horizon. 
 
 Unable to account for this change, Deerslayer 
 could restrain his impatience no longer. Hitching 
 his body along, with the utmost caution, he got 
 his eye at the bullet-hole, and fortunately com- 
 manded a very tolerable view of the point. The 
 canoe, by one of those imperceptible impulses 
 that so often decide the fate of men, as well as 
 the course of things, had inclined southerly, and 
 was slowly drifting down the lake. It was lucky 
 that Deerslayer had given it a shove sufficiently 
 vigorous to send it past the end of the point ere 
 it took this inclination, or it must have gone 
 ashore again. As it was, it drifted so near it as 
 to bring the tops of two or three trees within the 
 range of the young man’s view, as has been men- 
 tioned, and, indeed, to come in quite as close 
 proximity with the extremity of the point as was 
 at all safe. The distance could not much have 
 exceeded a hundred feet, though fortunately a 
 light current of air from the southwest began 
 to set it slowly off-shore. 
 
 Deerslayer now felt the urgent necessity of 
 resorting to some expedient to get farther from 
 his foes, and, if possible, to apprise his friends of 
 his situation. The distance rendered the last dif- 
 ficult, while the proximity to the point rendered 
 the first indispensable. As was usual in such 
 craft, a large, round, smooth stone was in each 
 end of the canoe, for the double purpose of seats 
 and ballast ; one of these was within reach of his 
 feet. The stone he contrived to get so far be- 
 
 tween his legs as to reach it with his hands, and 
 then he managed to roll it to the side of its fel. 
 low in the bows, where the two served to keep 
 the trim of the light boat, while he worked his 
 own body as far aft as possible. Before quitting 
 the shore, and as soon as he perceived that the 
 paddles were gone, Deerslayer had thrown a bit 
 of dead branch into the canoe, and this was with- 
 in reach of his arm. Removing the cap he wore, 
 he put it on the end of this stick, and just let it 
 appear over the edge of the canoe, as far as pos- 
 sible from his own person. This ruse was scarce- 
 ly adopted, before the young man had a proof 
 how much he had underrated the intelligence of 
 his enemies. In contempt of an artifice so shal- 
 low and commonplace, a bullet was fired directly 
 through another part of the canoe, which actually 
 razed his skin. He dropped the cap, and instant- 
 ly raised it immediately over his head, as a safe- 
 guard. It would seem that this second artifice 
 was unseen, or, what was more probable, the Hu- 
 rons, feeling certain of recovering their captive, 
 wished to take him alive. 
 
 Deerslayer lay passive a few minutes longer 
 his eye at the bullet-hole, however, and much did 
 he rejoice at seeing that he was drifting gradually 
 farther and farther from the shore. When he 
 looked upward, the tree-tops had disappeared, 
 but he soon found that the canoe was slowly turn- 
 ing, so as to prevent his getting a view of any 
 thing at his peep-hole, but of the two extremities 
 of the lake. He now bethought him of the stick, 
 which was crooked, and offered some facilities for 
 rowing, without the necessity of rising. The ex- 
 periment succeeded, on trial, better even than he 
 had hoped, though his great embarrassment was 
 to keep the canoe straight. That his present 
 manoeuvre was seen, soon became apparent by 
 the clamor on the shore, and a bullet, entering the 
 stern of the canoe, traversed its length, whistling 
 between the arms of our hero, and passed out at 
 the head. This satisfied the fugitive that he was 
 getting away with tolerable speed, and induced 
 him to increase his efforts. He was making a 
 stronger push than common, when another mes- 
 senger from the point broke the stick out-board, 
 and at once deprived him of his oar. As the 
 sound of voices seemed to grow more and more 
 distant, however, Deerslayer determined to leave 
 all to the drift, until he believed himself beyond 
 the reach of bullets. This was nervous work, 
 but it was the wisest of all the expedients that 
 offered ; and the young man was encouraged to 
 persevere in it, by the circumstance that he felt 
 his face fanned by the air, a proof that there was 
 a little more wind. 
 
THE RECAPTURE. 
 
 211 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 Nor widows’ tears, nor tender orphans’ cries, 
 
 Can stop th’ invaders’ force ; 
 
 Nor swelling seas, nor threatening skies, 
 
 Prevent the pirate’s course : 
 
 Their lives to selfish ends decreed, 
 
 Through blood and rapine they proceed ; 
 
 No anxious thought of ill-repute, 
 
 Suspend the impetuous and unjust pursuit ; 
 
 But power and wealth obtained, guilty and great, 
 
 Their fellow-creatures’ fears they raise, or urge their hate.” 
 
 Congeeve. 
 
 By this time, Deerslayer had been twenty 
 minutes in the canoe, and he began to grow a 
 little impatient for some signs of relief from his 
 friends. The position of the boat still prevented 
 his seeing in any direction, unless it were up or 
 down the lake ; and, though he knew that his line 
 of sight must pass within a hundred yards of the 
 castle, it, in fact, passed that distance to the 
 westward of the buildings. The profound still- 
 ness troubled him also, for he knew not whether 
 to ascribe it to the increasing space between him 
 and the Indians, or to some new artifice. At 
 length, wearied with fruitless watchfulness, the 
 young man turned himself on his back, closed his 
 eyes, and awaited the result in determined acqui- 
 escence. If the savages could so completely con- 
 trol their thirst for revenge, he was resolved to 
 be as calm as themselves, and to trust his fate to 
 the interposition of the currents and air. 
 
 Some additional ten minutes may have passed 
 in this quiescent manner, on both sides, when 
 Deerslayer thought he heard a slight noise, like a 
 low rubbing against the bottom of his canoe. He 
 opened his eyes of course, in expectation of see- 
 ing the face or arm of an Indian rising from the 
 water, and found that a canopy of leaves was 
 impending directly over his head. Starting to his 
 feet, the first object that met his eye was Riven- 
 oak, who had so far aided the slow progress of 
 the boat, as to draw it on the point, the grating 
 on the strand being the sound that had first given 
 our hero the alarm. The change in the drift of 
 the canoe had been altogether owing to the baf- 
 fling nature of the light currents of air, aided by 
 some eddies in the water. 
 
 “ Come,” said the Huron, with a quiet gesture 
 of authority to order his prisoner to land ; “ my 
 young friend has sailed about till he is tired ; he 
 will forget how to run again, unless he uses his 
 legs.” 
 
 “ You’ve the best of it, Huron,” returned 
 Deerslayer, stepping steadily from the canoe, and 
 passively following his leader to the open area of 
 
 the point; “Providence has helped you in an 
 onexpected manner. I’m your prisoner ag’in, 
 and I hope you’ll allow that I’m as good at break- 
 ing jail as I am at keeping furloughs.” 
 
 “ My young friend is a moose ! ” exclaimed the 
 Huron. “ His legs are very long ; they have 
 given my young men trouble. But he is not a 
 fish ; he cannot find his way in the lake. We did 
 not shoot him ; fish are taken in nets, and not 
 killed by bullets. When he turns moose again 
 he will be treated like a moose.” 
 
 “Ay, have your talk, Rivenoak; make the 
 most of your advantage. ’Tis your right, I sup- 
 pose, and I know it is your gift. On that p’int 
 there’ll be no words atween us ; for all men must 
 and ought to follow their gifts. Howsever, when 
 your women begin to ta’nt and abuse me, as I 
 suppose will soon happen, let ’em remember that 
 if a pale-face struggles for life so long as it’s law- 
 ful and manful, he knows how to loosen his hold 
 on it, decently, when he feels that the time has 
 come. I’m your captyve ; work your will on me.” 
 
 “ My brother has had a long run on the hills, 
 and a pleasant sail on the water,” returned Riven- 
 oak, more mildly, smiling, at the same time, in a 
 way that his listener knew denoted pacific inten- 
 tions. “ He has seen the woods ; he has seen the 
 water ; which does he like best ? Perhaps he has 
 seen enough to change his mind and make him 
 hear reason.” 
 
 “Speak out, Huron. Something is in your 
 thoughts, and the sooner it is said, the sooner 
 you’ll get my answer.” 
 
 “ That is straight ! There is no turning in 
 the talk of my pale-face friend, though he is a 
 fox in running. I will speak to him ; his ears are 
 now open wider than before, and his eyes are not 
 shut. The Sumach is poorer than ever. Once 
 she had a brother and a husband. She had chil- 
 dren too. The time came, and the husband 
 started for the happy hunting-grounds, without 
 saying farewell ; he left her alone with his chil- 
 dren. This he could not help, or he would not 
 have done it ; le Loup Cervier was a good hus- 
 band. It was pleasant to see the venison, and 
 wild ducks, and geese, and bear’s meat, that hung 
 in his lodge, in winter. It is now gone ; it will 
 not keep in warm weather. Who shall bring it 
 back again ? Some thought the brother would 
 not forget his sister, and that, next winter, he 
 would see that the lodge should not be empty. 
 We thought this; but the Panther yelled, and 
 followed the husband on the path of death. They 
 are now trying which shall first reach the happy 
 hunting-grounds. Some think the Lynx can run 
 fastest, and some think the Panther can jump the 
 
812 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 farthest. The Sumach thinks both will travel so 
 fast and so far that neither will ever come back. 
 Who shall feed her and her young ? The man 
 who told her husband and her brother to quit 
 her lodge, that there might be room for him to 
 come into it. He is a great hunter, and we know 
 that the woman will never want.” 
 
 “Ay, Huron, this is soon settled, accordin’ 
 to your notions ; but it goes sorely ag’in the grain 
 of a white man’s feelin’s. I’ve heard of men sav- 
 ing their lives this-away, and I’ve know’d them 
 that would prefer death to such a sort of captiv- 
 ity. For my part, I do not seek my end ; nor do 
 I seek matrimony.” 
 
 “ The pale-face will think of this while my 
 people get ready for the council. He will be told 
 what will happen. Let him remember how hard 
 it is to lose a husband and a brother. Go : when 
 we want him, the name of Deerslayer will be 
 called.” 
 
 This conversation had heen held with no one 
 near but the speakers. Of all the band that had 
 so lately thronged the place, Rivenoak alone was 
 visible. The rest seemed to have totally aban- 
 doned the spot. Even the furniture, clothes, 
 arms, and other property of the camp, had entire- 
 ly disappeared, and the place bore no other 
 proofs of the crowd that had so lately occupied 
 it, than the traces of their fires and resting- 
 places, and the trodden earth, that still showed 
 the marks of their feet. So sudden and unex- 
 pected a change caused Deerslayer a good deal 
 of surprise and some uneasiness, for he had never 
 known it to occur, in the course of his experi- 
 ence among the Delawares. He suspected, how- 
 ever, and rightly, that a change of encampment 
 was intended, and that the mystery of the move- 
 ment was resorted to, in order to work on his ap- 
 prehensions. 
 
 Rivenoak walked up the vista of trees, as 
 soon as he ceased speaking, leaving Deerslayer 
 by himself. The chief disappeared behind the 
 covers of the forest, and one unpractised in such 
 scenes might have believed the prisoner left to 
 the dictates of his own judgment. But the young 
 man, while he felt a little amazement at the dra- 
 matic aspect of things, knew his enemies too 
 well to fancy himself at liberty, or a free agent. 
 Still he was ignorant how far the Hurons meant 
 to carry their artifices, and he determined to 
 bring the question, as soon as practicable, to the 
 proof. Affecting an indifference he was far from 
 feeling, he strolled about the area, gradually 
 getting nearer and nearer to the spot where he 
 had landed, when he suddenly quickened his pace, 
 though carefully avoiding all appearance of flight, 
 
 and, pushing aside the bushes, he stepped upon 
 the beach. The canoe was gone, nor could he 
 see any traces of it, after walking to the northern 
 and southern verges of the point, and examining 
 the shores in both directions. It was evidently 
 removed beyond his reach and knowledge, and 
 under circumstances to show that such had been 
 the intention of the savages. 
 
 Deerslayer now better understood his actual 
 situation. He was a prisoner on the narrow 
 tongue of land, vigilantly watched beyond a ques- 
 tion, and with no other means of escape than that 
 of swimming. He again thought of this last expe- 
 dient, but the certainty that the canoe would be 
 sent in chase, and the desperate nature of the 
 chances of success, deterred him from the under- 
 taking. While on the strand, he came to a spot 
 where the bushes had been cut, and thrown into 
 a small pile. Removing a few of the upper 
 branches, he found beneath them the dead body 
 of the Panther. He knew that it was kept until 
 the savages might find a place to inter it, when 
 it would be beyond the reach of the scalping- 
 knife. He gazed wistfully toward the castle, but 
 there all seemed to be silent and desolate ; and a 
 feeling of loneliness and desertion came over him 
 to increase the gloom of the moment. 
 
 “ God’s will be done ! ” murmured the young 
 man, as he walked sorrowfully away from the 
 beach, entering again beneath the arches of the 
 wood ; “ God’s will be done, on ’arth as it is in 
 heaven ! I did hope that my days would not be 
 numbered so soon ! but it matters little, a’ter all. 
 A few more winters, and a few more summers, 
 and ’twould have been over, accordin’ to natur’. 
 Ah’s me! the young and active seldom think 
 death possible, till he grins in their faces and 
 tells ’em the hour is come ! ” 
 
 While this soliloquy was being pronounced, 
 the hunter advanced into the area, where, to his 
 surprise, he saw Hetty alone, evidently awaiting 
 his return. The girl carried the Bible under her 
 arm, and her face, over which a shadow of gentle 
 melancholy was usually thrown, now seemed sad 
 and downcast. Moving nearer, Deerslayer spoke. 
 
 “ Poor Hetty,” he said, “ times have been so 
 troublesome of late, that I’d altogether forgotten 
 you ; we meet, as it might be, to mourn over what 
 is to happen. I wonder what har become zf 
 Chingachgook and Wah ! ” 
 
 “ Why did you kill the Huron, Deerslayer ? ” 
 returned the girl, reproachfully. “ Don’t you know 
 your commandments, which say, ‘ Thou shall not 
 kill ! ’ They tell me you have now slain the wom- 
 an’s husband and brother.” 
 
 “ It’s true, my good Hetty, ’tis gospel truth, 
 
THE PRISONER’S DEFENCE 
 
 213 
 
 and I’ll not deny what has come to pass. But, 
 you must remember, gal, that many things are 
 lawful in war, which would be onlawful in peace. 
 The husband was shot in open fight ; or open so 
 far as I was consarned, while he had a better 
 cover than common; and the brother brought his 
 ind on himself, by casting his tomahawk at an 
 unarmed prisoner. Did you witness that deed, 
 gal?” 
 
 “ I saw it, and was sorry it happened, Deer- 
 slayer ; for I hoped you wouldn’t have returned 
 blow for blow, but good for evil.” 
 
 • “ Ah, Hetty, that may do among the mission- 
 
 aries, but ’twould make an onsartain life in the 
 woods. The Panther craved my blood, and he 
 was foolish enough to throw arms into my hands 
 at the very moment he was striving a’ter it. 
 ’Twould have been a’gin natur’ not to raise a 
 hand in such a trial, and ’twould have done dis- 
 credit to my training and gifts. No, no ; I’m as 
 willing to give every man his own, as another ; 
 and so I hope you’ll testify to them that will be 
 likely to question you as to what you’ve seen this 
 day.” 
 
 “ Decrslayer, do you mean to marry Sumach, 
 now she has neither husband nor brother to feed 
 her?” 
 
 “ Are such your idees of matrimony, Hetty ? 
 Ought the young to wive with the old — the pale- 
 face with the red-skin — the Christian with the 
 heathen ? It’s ag’in reason and natur’, and so 
 you’ll see, if you think of it a moment.” 
 
 “I’ve always heard mother say,” returned 
 Hetty, averting her face, more from a feminine 
 instinct, than from any consciousness of wrong, 
 “that people should never marry until they 
 loved each other better than brothers and sis- 
 ters; and I suppose that is what you mean. 
 Sumach is old and you are young.” 
 
 “ Ay, and she’s red and I’m white. Besides, 
 Hetty, suppose you was a wife, now, having mar- 
 ried some young man of your own years, and 
 state, and color — Hurry Harry, for instance” — 
 Deerslayer selected this example, simply from 
 the circumstance that he was the only young man 
 known to both — “ and that he had fallen on a 
 war-path, would you wish to take to your bosom, 
 r or a husband, the man that slew him ? ” 
 
 “ Oh ! no, no, no,” returned the girl, shudder- 
 ing. “ That would be wicked, as well as heart- 
 less ! No Christian girl could or would do that. 
 I never shall be the wife of Hurry, I know ; but 
 were he my husband, no man should ever be it 
 again after his death.” 
 
 “ I thought it would get to this, Hetty, when 
 you came to understand sarcumstances. ’Tis a 
 
 moral impossibility that I should ever marry Su- 
 mach ; and though Injin weddin’s have no priests, 
 and not much religion, a white man, who knows 
 his gifts and duties, can’t profit by that, and so 
 make his escape at the fitting time. I do think 
 death would be more nat’ral like, and welcome, 
 than wedlock with this woman.” 
 
 “ Don’t say it too loud,” interrupted Hetty, 
 impatiently ; “ I suppose she will not like to hear 
 it. I’m sure Hurry would rather marry even me, 
 than suffer torments, though I am feeble-minded ; 
 and I am sure it would kill me to think he’d pre- 
 fer death to being my husband.” 
 
 “ Ay, gal ; you ain’t Sumach, but a comely 
 young Christian, with a good heart, pleasant 
 smile, and kind eye. Hurry might be proud to 
 get you, and that, too, not in misery, and sor- 
 row, but in his best and happiest days. Hows- 
 ever, take my advice, and never talk to Hurry 
 about these things ; he’s only a borderer, at the 
 best.” 
 
 “ I wouldn’t tell him tor the world ! ” ex- 
 claimed the girl, looking about her, like one 
 affrighted, and blushing she knew not why. 
 “ Mother always said young women shouldn’t be 
 forward, and speak their minds before they’re 
 asked ; oh ! I never forget what mother told me. 
 ’Tis a pity Hurry is so handsome, Deerslayer ; I 
 do think fewer girls would like him then, and he 
 would sooner know his own mind.” 
 
 “ Poor gal, poor gal, it’s plain enough how it 
 is ; but the Lord will bear in mind one of your 
 simple heart and kind feelin’s ! We’ll talk no 
 more of these things ; if you had reason, you’d 
 be sorrowful at having let others so much into 
 your secret. Tell me, Hetty, what has become 
 of all the Hurons, and why they let you roam 
 about the p’int, as if you, too, was a prisoner ? ” 
 
 “ I’m no prisoner, Deerslayer, but a fi’ee girl, 
 and go when and where I please. Nobody dare 
 hurt me / If they did, God would be angry — as 
 I can show them in the Bible. No — no — Hetty 
 Hutter is not afraid ; she's in good hands. The 
 Hurons are up yonder in the woods, and keep a 
 good watch on us both, I’ll answer for it, since 
 all the women and children are on the lookout. 
 Some are burying the body of the poor girl who 
 was shot, so that the enemy and the wild beasts 
 can’t find it. I told ’em that father and mother 
 lay in the lake, but I wouldn’t let them know in 
 what part of it, for Judith and I don’t want any 
 of their heathenish company in our burying- 
 ground.” 
 
 “Ah’s me ! Well, it is an awful dispatch to 
 be standing here, alive and angry, and with the 
 feelin’s up and furious, one hour, and then to bfe 
 
/ 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 214 
 
 carried away at the next, and put out of sight 
 of mankind, in a hole in the ’arth. No one 
 knows what will happen to him on a war-path, 
 that’s sartain.” 
 
 Here the stirring of leaves and the crack- 
 ing of dried twigs interrupted the discourse, and 
 apprised Deerslayer of the approach of his ene- 
 mies. The Hurons closed around the spot that 
 Lad been prepared for the coming scene, and in 
 the centre of which the intended victim now 
 stood, in a circle — the armed men being so dis- 
 tributed among the feebler members of the band, 
 that there was no safe opening through which 
 the prisoner could break. But the latter no lon- 
 ger contemplated flight ; the recent trial having 
 satisfied him of his inability to escape, when pur- 
 sued so closely by numbers. On the contrary, 
 all his energies were aroused, in order to meet 
 his expected fate with a calmness that should do 
 credit to his color and his manhood ; one equally 
 removed from recreant alarm and savage boast- 
 ing. 
 
 When Rivenoak reappeared in the circle, he 
 occupied his old place at the head of the area. 
 Several of the elder warriors stood near him; 
 but, now that the brother of Sumach had fallen, 
 there was no longer any recognized chief pres- 
 ent whose influence and authority offered a dan- 
 gerous rivalry to his own. Nevertheless, it is 
 well known that little which could be called mo- 
 narchical or despotic, entered into the politics of 
 the North- American tribes, although the first 
 colonists, bringing with them to this hemisphere 
 the notions and opinions of their own countries, 
 often dignified the chief men of those primitive 
 nations with the titles of kings and princes. 
 Hereditary influence did certainly exist; but 
 there is much reason to believe it existed rath- 
 er as a consequence of hereditary merit and 
 acquired qualifications, than as a birthright. 
 Rivenoak, however, had not even this claim — 
 having risen to consideration purely by the force 
 of talents, sagacity, and, as Bacon expresses it, 
 in relation to all distinguished statesmen, “ by a 
 union of great and mean qualities ; ” a truth of 
 which the career of the profound Englishman 
 himself furnishes so apt an illustration. 
 
 Next to arms, eloquence offers the great 
 avenue to popular favor, whether it be in civil- 
 ized or savage life ; and Rivenoak had succeed- 
 ed, as so many have succeeded before him, quite 
 ls much by rendering fallacies acceptable to his 
 listeners, as by any profound or learned exposi- 
 tions of truth, or the accuracy of his logic. 
 Nevertheless, he had influence ; and was far from 
 being altogether without just claims to its pos- 
 
 session. Like most men who reason more than 
 they feel, the Huron was not addicted to the in- 
 dulgence of the mere ferocious passions of his 
 people ; he had been commonly found on the side 
 of mercy, in all the scenes of vindictive torture 
 and revenge that had occurred in his tribe since 
 his own attainment to power. On the present 
 occasion, he was reluctant to proceed to extremi- 
 ties, although the provocation was so great ; still 
 it exceeded his ingenuity to see how that alter- 
 native could well be avoided. Sumach resented 
 her rejection more than she did the deaths of 
 her husband and brother, and there was little* 
 probability that the woman would pardon a man 
 who had so unequivocally preferred death to her 
 embraces. Without her forgiveness, there was 
 scarce a hope that the tribe could be induced to 
 overlook its loss ; and even to Rivenoak him- 
 self, much as he was disposed to pardon, the fate 
 of our hero now appeared to be almost hopelessly 
 sealed. 
 
 When the whole band was arrayed around 
 the captive, a grave silence, so much the more 
 threatening from its profound quiet, pervaded 
 the place. Deerslayer perceived that the women 
 and boys had been preparing splinters of the fat 
 pine-roots, which he well knew were to be stuck 
 into his flesh and set in flames, while two or 
 three of the young men held the thongs of bark 
 with which he was to be bound. The smoke of 
 a distant fire announced that the burning brands 
 were in preparation, and several of the elder 
 warriors passed their fingers over the edges of 
 their tomahawks, as if to prove their keenness 
 and temper. Even the knives seemed loosened 
 in their sheaths, impatient for the bloody and 
 merciless work to begin. 
 
 “Killer of the Deer” — recommenced Riven- 
 oak, certainly without any signs of sympathy or 
 pity in his manner, though with calmness and 
 dignity — “ Killer of the Deer, it is time that my 
 people knew their minds. The sun is no longer 
 over our heads : tired of waiting on the Hurons, 
 he has begun to fall near the pines on this side 
 of the valley. He is travelling fast toward the 
 country of our .French fathers ; it is to warn his 
 children that their lodges are empty, and that 
 they ought to be at home. The roaming wolf 
 has his den, and he goes to it when he wishes to 
 see his young. The Iroquois are not poorer than 
 the wolves. They have villages, and wigwams, 
 and fields of corn ; the good spirits will be tired 
 of watching them alone. Hy people must go 
 back and see to their own business. There will 
 be joy in the lodges when they hear our whoop 
 from the forest l It will be a sorrowful whoop • 
 
SUMACH’S APPEAL. 
 
 215 
 
 when it is understood, grief will come after it. 
 There will be one scalp-whoop, but there will be 
 only one. We have the fur of the Muskrat ; his 
 body is among the fishes. Deerslayer must say 
 whether another scalp shall be on our pole. Two 
 lodges are empty ; a scalp, living or dead, is want- 
 ed at each door.” 
 
 “Then take ’em dead, Huron,” firmly, but 
 altogether without dramatic boasting, returned 
 the captive. “ My hour is come, I do suppose ; 
 and what must be, must. If you are bent on the 
 tortur’, I’ll do my indivors to bear up ag’in it, 
 though no man can say how far his natur’ will 
 stand pain, until he’s been tried.” 
 
 “ The pale-face cur begins to put liis tail be- 
 tween his legs ! ” cried a young and garrulous 
 savage, who bore the appropriate title of the 
 Corbeau Rouge — a sobriquet he had gained from 
 the French, by his facility in making unseasonable 
 noises, and an undue tendency to hear his own 
 voice — “ he is no warrior ; he has killed the Loup 
 Cervier when looking behind him not to see the 
 flash of his own rifle. He grunts like a hog, al- 
 ready ; when the Huron women begin to torment 
 him, he will cry like the young of the catamount. 
 He is a Delaware woman, dressed in the skin of a 
 Yengeese ! ” 
 
 “ Have your say, young man ; have your say,” 
 returned Deerslayer, unmoved; “you know no 
 better, and I can overlook it. Talking may 
 aggravate women, but can hardly make knives 
 sharper, fire hotter, or rifles more sartain.” 
 
 Rivenoak now interfered, reproving the Red 
 Crow for his premature interference, and then 
 directing the proper persons to bind the captive. 
 This expedient was adopted, not from any appre- 
 hensions that he would escape, or from any neces- 
 sity, that was yet apparent, of his being unable to 
 endure the torture with his limbs free, but from 
 an ingenious design of making him feel his help- 
 lessness, and of gradually sapping his resolution, 
 by undermining it, as it might be, little by little. 
 Deerslayer offered no resistance He submitted 
 his arms and legs, freely if not cheerfully, to the 
 ligaments of bark, which were bound around 
 them, by order of the chief, in a way to produce 
 as little pain as possible. These directions were 
 secret, and given in a hope that the captive would 
 finally save himself from any serious bodily suffer- 
 ing, by consenting to take the Sumach for a wife. 
 As soon as the body of Deerslayer was withed in 
 bark sufficiently to create a lively sense of help- 
 lessness, he was literally carried to a young tree, 
 and bound against it, in a way that effectually pre- 
 vented him from moving, as well as from falling. 
 The hands were laid flat against the legs, and 
 
 thongs were passed over all, in a way nearly to 
 incorporate the prisoner with the tree. His cap 
 was then removed, and he was left half-standing, 
 half-sustained by his bonds, to face the coming 
 scene in the best manner he could. 
 
 Previously to proceeding to any thing like 
 extremities, it was the wish of Rivenoak to put 
 his captive’s resolution to the proof, by renewing 
 the attempt at a compromise. This could be 
 effected only in one manner, the acquiescence of 
 the Sumach being indispensably necessary to a 
 compromise of her right to be revenged. With 
 this view, then, the woman was next desired to 
 advance, and to look to her own interest; no 
 agent being considered as efficient as the principal 
 herself in this negotiation. The Indian females, 
 when girls, are usually mild and submissive, with 
 musical tones, pleasant voices, and merry laughs ; 
 but toil and suffering generally deprive them of 
 most of these advantages by the time they have 
 reached an age which the Sumach had long before 
 passed. To render their voices harsh, it would 
 seem to require active, malignant passions, though, 
 when excited, their screams can rise to a suffi- 
 ciently conspicuous degree of discordancy to as- 
 sert their claim to possess this distinctive pecul- 
 iarity of the sex. The Sumach was not altogethei 
 without feminine attraction, however, and had so 
 recently been deemed handsome in her tribe, as 
 not to have yet learned the full influence that 
 time and exposure produce on man as well as on 
 woman. By an arrangement of Rivenoak’s some 
 of the women around her had been employing the 
 time in endeavoring to persuade the bereaved 
 widow that there was still a hope Deerslayer 
 might be prevailed on to enter her wigwam, in 
 preference to entering the world of spirits, and 
 this, too, with a success that previous symptoms 
 scarcely justified. All this was the result of a 
 resolution on the part of the chief to leave no 
 proper means unemployed, in order to get the 
 greatest hunter that was then thought to exist in 
 all that region, transferred to his own nation as 
 well as a husband for a woman who he felt would 
 be likely to be troublesome, were any of her claims 
 to the attention and care of the tribe overlooked. 
 
 In conformity with this scheme, the Sumach 
 had been secretly advised to advance into the 
 circle, and to make her appeal to the prisoner’s 
 sense of justice before the band had recourse to 
 the last experiment. The woman, nothing loath, 
 consented ; for there was some such attraction, 
 in becoming the wife of a noted hunter, among 
 the females of the tribes, as is experienced by the 
 sex in more refined life when they bestow their 
 hands on the affluent. As the dories of a mothev 
 
216 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 were thought to be paramount to ail other con- 
 siderations, .the widow felt none of that embarrass- 
 ment in preferring her claims, to which even a 
 female fortune-hunter among ourselves might be 
 liable. When she stood forth before the whole 
 party, therefore, the children that she led by the 
 hand fully justified all she did. 
 
 “ You see me before you, cruel pale-face,” the 
 woman commenced ; “ your spirit must tell you 
 my errand. I have found you ; I cannot find 
 le Loup Cervier, nor the Panther ; I have looked 
 for them in the lake, in the woods, in the clouds. 
 
 I cannot say where they have gone.” 
 
 “No man knows, good Sumach, no man 
 knows,” interposed the captive. “When the 
 spirit leaves the body it passes into a world be- 
 vond our knowledge, and the wisest way for them 
 that are left behind is to hope for the best. No 
 doubt both your warriors have gone to the happy 
 hunting-grounds, and at the proper time you will 
 see ’em ag’in in their improved state. The wife 
 and sister of braves must have looked forward to 
 some such tarmination of their ’arthly careers.” 
 
 “ Cruel pale-face, what had my warriors done 
 that you should slay them? They were the best 
 hunters and the boldest young men of their tribe ; 
 the Great Spirit intended that they should live 
 until they withered like the branches of the hem- 
 lock, and fell of their own weight.” 
 
 “Nay, nay, good Sumach,” interrupted the 
 Deerslayer, whose love of truth was too indomi- 
 table to listen to such hyperbole with patience, 
 even though it came from the torn breast of a 
 widow — “ nay, nay, good Sumach, this is a little 
 outdoing red-skin privileges. Young man was 
 neither, any more than you can be called a young 
 woman ; and, as to the Great Spirit’s intending 
 that they should fall otherwise than they did, 
 that’s a grievous mistake, inasmuch as what the 
 Great Spirit intends is sartain to come to pass. 
 Then, ag’in, it’s plain enough neither of your 
 fri’nds did me any harm : I raised my hand ag’in 
 ’em on account of what they were striving lo do, 
 rather than what they did. This is nat’ral law, 
 ‘ to do, lest you should be done by.’ ” 
 
 “It is so. Sumach has but one tongue; she 
 can tell but one story. The pale-face struck the 
 Hurons, lest the Hurons should strike him. The 
 Hurons are a just nation ; they will forget it. The 
 chiefs will shut their eyes, and pretend not to 
 have seen it. The young men will believe the 
 Panther and the Lynx have gone to far-off hunts ; 
 and the Sumach will take her children by the 
 hand, and go into the lodge of the pale-face, and 
 cay, ‘ See ; these are your children— they are also 
 mine ; feed us, and we will live with you.’ ” 
 
 “ The tarms are onadmissible, woman ; and, 
 though I feel for your losses, which must be hard 
 to bear, the tarms cannot be accepted. As to 
 givin’ you ven’son, in case we lived near enough 
 together, that would be no great expl’ite ; but as 
 for becomin’ your husband, and the father of your 
 children, to be honest with you, I feel no callin’ 
 that-a-way.” 
 
 “ Look at this boy, cruel pale-face ; he has no 
 father to teach him to kill the deer, or to take 
 scalps. See this girl ; what young man will come 
 to look for a wife in a lodge that has no head ? 
 There are more among my people in the Canadas, 
 and the Killer of Deer will find as many mouths 
 to feed as his heart can wish for.” 
 
 “I tell you, woman,” exclaimed Deerslayer, 
 whose imagination was far from seconding the 
 appeal of the widow, and who began to grow 
 restive under the vivid pictures she was drawing, 
 « all this is nothing to me. People and kindred 
 must take care of their own fatherless, leaving 
 them that have no children to their own loneliness. 
 As for me, I have no offspring, and I want no 
 wife. Now, go away, Sumach; leave me in the 
 hands of your chiefs ; for my color, and gifts, and 
 natur’ itself, cry out ag’in the idee of taking you 
 for a wife.” 
 
 It is unnecessary to expatiate on the effect of 
 this downright refusal of the woman’s proposals. 
 If there was any thing like tenderness in her bo- 
 som — and no woman was, probably, ever entirely 
 without that feminine quality — it all disappeared 
 at this plain announcement. Fury, rage, morti- 
 fied pride, and a volcano of wrath, burst out at 
 one explosion, converting her into a sort of ma- 
 niac, as it might be at the touch of a magician’s 
 wand. Without deigning a reply in words, she 
 made the arches of the forest ring with screams, 
 and then flew forward at her victim, seizing him 
 by the hair, which she appeared resolute to draw 
 out by the roots. It was some time before her 
 grasp could be loosened. Fortunately for the pris- 
 oner, her rage was blind, since his total helpless- 
 ness left him entirely at her mercy ; had it been 
 better directed, it might have proved fatal before 
 any relief could have been offered. As it was, 
 she did succeed in wrenching out two or three 
 handfuls of hair, before the young men could tear 
 her away from her victim. 
 
 The insult that had been offered to the Su- 
 mach was deemed an insult to the whole tribe ; 
 not so much, however, on account of any respect 
 that was felt for the woman, as on account of the 
 honor of the Huron nation. Sumach, herself, was 
 generally considered to be as acid as the berry 
 from which she derived her name ; and now that 
 
HURLING THE TOMAHAWK. 
 
 217 
 
 her great supporters, her husband and brother, 
 were both gone, few cared about concealing their 
 aversion. Nevertheless, it had become a point of 
 honor to punish the pale-face who disdained a 
 Huron woman, and, more particularly, one who 
 coolly preferred death to relieving the tribe from 
 the support of a widow and her children. The 
 young men showed an impatience to begin to tor- 
 ture, that Rivenoak understood ; and, as his elder 
 associates manifested no disposition to permit any 
 longer delay, he was compelled to give the signal 
 for the infernal work to proceed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 “ The ugly bear now minded not the stake, 
 
 Nor how the cruel mastiffs do him tear ; 
 
 The stag lay still, unrousdd from the brake, 
 
 The foamy boar feared not the hunter’s spear ; 
 
 All thing was still in desert, bush, and brier.” 
 
 Lobd Doeset. 
 
 It was one of the common expedients of the 
 savages, on such occasions, to put the nerves of 
 their victims to the severest proofs. On the oth- 
 er hand, it was a matter of Indian pride to betray 
 no- yielding to terror or pain ; but for the prison- 
 er to provoke his enemies to such acts of vio- 
 lence as would soonest produce death. Many a 
 warrior had been known to briDg his own suffer- 
 ings 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 in- 
 genuity that might well eclipse all that has been 
 said of the infernal devices of religious persecu- 
 tion. 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 every thing, 
 .n preference to disgracing his color. 
 
 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 exceeding- 
 ly 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 in- 
 { ury in these trials ; and ;t often happened that 
 
 death followed, even when the blow was not pre- 
 meditated. In the particular case of our hero, 
 Rivenoak and the older warriors were apprehen- 
 sive 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 pos- 
 sibly 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 en- 
 tered what we shall call the fists, were more dis- 
 posed to exhibit their own dexterity than to re- 
 sent 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, in- 
 stead 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 sen- 
 iors ; who, indeed, would have objected to his ap- 
 pearing 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 gestic- 
 ulations, 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 
 
218 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 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 tor- 
 mentors might have the amusement, and the tor- 
 mented endure the shame, of dodging, and other- 
 wise attempting to avoid the blows. Deerslayer dis- 
 appointed these hopes, by a command of n°rve 
 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 him- 
 self this advantage, under similar circumstances. 
 
 The Raven had no sooner made his unsuc- 
 cessful 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 Ra- 
 ven, but he would gladly have sacrificed the cap- 
 tive to his hatred of the pale-faces generally, 
 were it not for the greater interest he felt in his 
 own success as one particularly skilful 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 in- 
 strument whirling toward him, and believed all 
 was over ; still he was not touched. The toma- 
 hawk 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 soft- 
 en a little toward the prisoner, whose steadiness 
 of nerve alone enabled him to give this evidence 
 of his consummate skill. 
 
 Le Daim-Mose was succeeded by the Bound- 
 ing Boy, or le Garmon qui Bondi , who came leap- 
 ing into the circle like a hound or a goat at play. 
 This was one of those elastic youths whose mus- 
 cles seemed always in motion, and who either af- 
 fected, 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 
 nis 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 Frenchman 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 cap- 
 tive, 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’an 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 antics ? 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 good will, and a fierce deter- 
 mination 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 in- 
 stance 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 warmly re- 
 buked 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 Deer- 
 slayer was grazed, but in no instance did he re- 
 ceive what might be termed a wound. The un- 
 flinching firmness with which he faced his assail- 
 ants, 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 toward him, with the ex- 
 ception of Sumach and the Bounding Boy. These 
 two discontented spirits got together, it is truej 
 feeding each other’s ire ; but, as yet, their malig- 
 nant feelings were confined very much to them- 
 
HETTY’S INTERCESSION. 
 
 219 
 
 wires, 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 pro- 
 ceed any further. Even the gentlest of the fe- 
 males, however, had received too much satis- 
 faction in the late trials to forego their expecta- 
 tions of a gratifying exhibition; and there was 
 but one voice in the request to proceed. The pol- 
 itic chief, who had some such desire to receive 
 so celebrated a hunter into his tribe as a Euro- 
 pean 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 bade 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 exhibit- 
 ing their skill. 
 
 When Deerslayer saw the chosen warriors step 
 into the circle, with their arms prepared for ser- 
 vice, he felt some such relief as the miserable suf- 
 ferer, who has long endured the agonies of dis- 
 ease, 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 injury, 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 oc- 
 curred that, exasperated by the fortitude and 
 taunts of the prisoner, death was dealt intention- 
 ally 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 weap- 
 on as much beloved as the rifle. A slight inter, 
 ruption, 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 in- 
 flicting 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 ac- 
 tions — uniting to keep down the apprehensions 
 of woman, and to impel her to be bold and reso- 
 lute. She now appeared in the circle, gentle, 
 feminine, even bashful in mien, as usual, but ear- 
 nest 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, red men ? ” 
 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? Be- 
 sides, 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 
 stayed in the canoe by himself. You are tor- 
 menting your triend, in tormenting this young 
 man ! ” 
 
 The Hurons listened with grave attention, and 
 one among them, who understood English, trans- 
 lated 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 oui 
 scalps, that is true ; why did he not come ? Here 
 they are, on our heads ; the war-locks are read) 
 to be taken hold of; a bold enemy ought to 
 stretch out his hand to seize them. The Iroquois 
 
220 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 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 treach- 
 ery ; like a skulking fox, or like a leaping pan- 
 ther.” 
 
 “ 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 de- 
 fended himself. I don’t know whether the 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 to- 
 gether ! ” 
 
 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 fe- 
 rocious. 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 war- 
 riors have fallen by the blows of our prisoner ; 
 their grave is too small to hold a third. The Hu- 
 rons 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 Hu- 
 ron 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 dis- 
 cussion, and, accustomed to defer to the direc- 
 tions of her seniors, she did as told, seating her- 
 self 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 ob- 
 ject 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 undei 
 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 in- 
 creased. The face of Deerslayer, indeed, was 
 just removed sufficiently from the ends of the 
 guns to escape the effects of the flash, and his 
 3teady oye was enabled to look directly into their 
 muzzles, as it might be, in anticipation of the fa- 
 tal 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 indomi- 
 table resolution, which so much exceeded ever} 
 thing of its kind that any present had before wit- 
 nessed, might be referred to three distinct causes. 
 The first was resignation to his fate, blended w r ith 
 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 sec- 
 ond 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, Mingoes,” he 
 exclaimed, “ but we’ve squaws among the Dela- 
 wares, and I have known Dutch gals on the Mo- 
 hawk, that could outdo your greatest indivors. 
 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 
 object can be seen, nineteen shots in twenty : or, 
 
THE CAPTIVE’S TEMPORARY RELEASE. 
 
 221 
 
 for that matter, twenty m twenty, if the piece is 
 creditable and trusty ! ” 
 
 A low, menacing murmur followed this cool 
 taunt; the fire of the warriors kindled at listen- 
 ing to such a reproach from one who so far dis- 
 dained 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 per- 
 ceived that the moment was critical, and, still 
 retaining his hope of adopting so noted a hunt- 
 er into his tribe, the politic old chief interposed 
 in time, probably, to prevent an immediate resort 
 to that portion of the torture which must neces- 
 sarily have produced death, through extreme 
 bodily suffering, if in no other manner. Moving 
 into the centre of the irritated group, he ad- 
 dressed them with his usual wily logic and plaus- 
 ible manner, at once suppressing the fierce move- 
 ment 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 man. 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. Loos- 
 en 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 pref- 
 erence 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 Riv- 
 enoak, 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 h’13 limbs, stamping his feet, and mov- 
 ing about, soon regained the circulation ; recov- 
 ering 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 ot 
 the very verge of the other world, to find him- 
 self so unexpectedly liberated, in possession of 
 his strength, and with a full command of limb, 
 acted on him like a sudden restoration to life, re- 
 animating hopes that he had once absolutely 
 abandoned. From that instant all his plans 
 changed. In this he simply obeyed a law of Na- 
 ture ; 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 feel- 
 ing 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 sex lost all its sympathy 
 with suffering, in the desire to save the reputa- 
 tion 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 fe- 
 male. 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 resist- 
 ing the agony of bodily suffering. Nor was this 
 party without the proper instruments for effect- 
 ing 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 proba- 
 bly as the conservators of its decency and moral 
 discipline ; such things occurring in savage as 
 well as civilized life. It is unnecessary to repeat 
 all that ferocity and ignorance could invent foi 
 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 call- 
 
222 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 ing their prisoner by the names of the lower and 
 least respected animals that were known to them- 
 selves. 
 
 But Deerslayer’s mind was too much occupied 
 to permit him to be disturbed by the abuse of 
 excited hags ; and theiir rage necessarily increas- 
 ing with his indifference, as his indifference in- 
 creased with their rage, the furies soon rendered 
 themselves impotent by their own excesses. Per- 
 ceiving 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 commence- 
 ment 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 an- 
 nouncement, 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 denoument of our story, it shall be given in a 
 separate chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 “ 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 gathered in by sterner hands, 
 
 With bayonet, blade, and spear.” 
 
 Scott. 
 
 It exceeded Deerslayer’s power to ascertain 
 what had produced the sudden pause in the 
 movements of his enemies, until the fact was re- 
 vealed 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 pro- 
 duced the delay. Rivenoak was evidently ap- 
 prised 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 ac- 
 corded to her feeble-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 bro- 
 cade 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 harmoni- 
 ous ; 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 succeed- 
 ed with those whose habits had taught them to 
 discriminate between persons. Judith, in addi- 
 tion 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 colors, 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 her- 
 self within the circle, she was in a degree com- 
 pensated for the fearful personal risk she ran, by 
 the unequivocal sensation of surprise and ad- 
 miration produced by her appearance. The grim 
 old warriors uttered their favorite exclamation, 
 “ Hugh ! ” The younger men were still more sen- 
 sibly overcome, and even the women were not 
 backward in letting open manifestations of pleas- 
 ure escape them. It was seldom that these un- 
 tutored 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 com- 
 pared with the lustre of the brocade ; and, while 
 the rare person ll 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 sur- 
 passed even the hopes of its wearer. Deerslavei 
 
JUDITH’S ARTIFICE. 
 
 223 
 
 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 vis- 
 itor to explain her object, which to most of the 
 spectators seemed as inexplicable as her appear- 
 ance. 
 
 “ 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 communication ; “ my errand is too im- 
 portant 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 re- 
 ply, 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 con- 
 descending 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,” re- 
 turned the old chief, courteously, as soon as her 
 address had been translated so that all might un- 
 derstand it. “ If her words are as pleasant as her 
 looks, they will never quit my ears ; I shall hear 
 them long after the winter in Canada has killed the 
 flowers, and frozen all the speeches of summer.” 
 
 This admiration was grateful to one consti- 
 tuted 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 coun- 
 try ; 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 pre- 
 cisely 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 lis- 
 15 
 
 ten 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 favorably 
 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 speak- 
 er, and he answered as promptly as comported 
 with the notions of Indian decorum ; that pecul- 
 iar people seeming to think a short delay respect- 
 ful, inasmuch as it manifests that the words al- 
 ready 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 distrust- 
 ed 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 under- 
 standing of poor Indians, who can only compre- 
 hend 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 use- 
 less to state my rank and residence, inasmuch as 
 you would not comprehend them. You must 
 trust to your eyes for this knowledge ; what red 
 man is there that cannot see ? This blanket that 
 I wear is not the blanket of a common squaw ; 
 these ornaments are such as the wives and daugh- 
 ters of chiefs only appear in. Now listen and 
 hear why I have come alone among your people, 
 and hearken to the errand that ha3 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 
 tortures. He is a great hunter, and is much loved 
 by all the garrisons, far and near. There would 
 
324 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 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 chil- 
 dren 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, be- 
 fore 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 In- 
 dian phraseology, endeavored to express her ideas 
 in the sententious manner common to those peo- 
 ple ; and she succeeded even beyond her own ex- 
 pectations. 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 re- 
 maining 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 accept- 
 ance 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 dryly 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 stout-hearted as he boasts him- 
 self to be.” 
 
 “ That I deny, Huron,” interrupted Deerslay 
 er, 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 feath- 
 ers. 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- 
 faces’ 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 Bi- 
 ble, though father sometimes called her Jude. 
 That’s my sister Judith, Thomas Hutter’s daugh- 
 ter — Thomas Hutter, whom you called the Musk- 
 rat ; though he was no muskrat, but a man, like 
 yourself — he lived in a house on the water, and 
 that was enough for you .” 
 
 A smile of triumph gleamed on the nard- 
 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 all 
 was lost; for no sign, or even entreaty, 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 &nd ingenious expedient for liberating 
 
HIST’S SUDDEN RETURN. 
 
 225 
 
 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 im- 
 ploring 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 idee, and fit for a general’s lady ; 
 but yonder Mingo — ” Rivenoak had withdrawn 
 to a little distance, and was out of ear-shot— 
 “but yonder Mingo is an oncommon man, and not 
 to be deceived by any unnat’ral sarcumventions. 
 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 are 
 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 at- 
 tempt 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 hadn’t 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 in- 
 jure you while I stand by, if in my power to pre- 
 vent it ; besides — ” 
 
 “Besides what, Judith? What means have 
 you to stop Injin cruelties, or to avart Injin devil- 
 tries ? ” 
 
 “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 stayed in the ark or the castle ; 
 but what has been done, is done. You was about 
 to say something, when you stopped at 1 be- 
 sides ? ’ ” 
 
 “It might not be safe to mention it here, 
 Deerslayer,” the girl hurriedly answered, moving 
 past him carelessly, that she might speak in a low 
 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 toward his enemies, as if ready 
 again to face the torments. A short consultation 
 had passed among the elders of the band, and by 
 this time they also were prepared with their de- 
 cision. The merciful purpose of Rivenoak had 
 been much weakened by the artifice of Judith, 
 which, failing of its real object, was likely to pro- 
 duce 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 contributed to the ex- 
 posure. As for the unusual attire, it was con- 
 founded with the profound mystery of the animals 
 with two tails, and, for the moment, lost its in- 
 fluence. 
 
 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 prepara- 
 tions for the contemplated scene. Fragments of 
 dried wood were rapidly collected near the sap- 
 ling, 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 expec- 
 tation, while Deerslayer himself stood seemingly 
 as unmoved as one of the pines of the hills. 
 When the warriors advanced to bind him, how- 
 ever, the young man glanced at Judith, as if to 
 inquire 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 eager- 
 ly 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 abso- 
 lutely to destroy the life of their victim by means 
 of fire. They designed merely to put his physi- 
 cal fortitude to the severest proofs it could en- 
 dure, 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 
 
226 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 a proper distance, or one at which it was thought 
 „he heat would soon become intolerable, though 
 it might not be immediately dangerous. As often 
 happened, however, on these occasions, this dis- 
 tance had been miscalculated, and the flames be- 
 gan 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 scat- 
 tered the blazing pile in a dozen directions. 
 More than one hand was raised to strike the pre- 
 sumptuous intruder to the earth ; but the chiefs 
 prevented the blows by reminding their irritated 
 followers of the state of her mind. Hetty, her- 
 self, 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 un- 
 nerved so much as to be incapable of exertion ; 
 “ Heaven itself has sent you on its holy errand.” 
 
 “ ’Twas well meant, Judith,” rejoined the vic- 
 tim ; “ ’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 couldn’t 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 ? 
 Ho you never read your Bibles ? or do you think 
 God will forget such things ? ” 
 
 A gesture from Rivenoak caused the scat- 
 tered 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 
 toward the circle, and presented the countenance 
 of Hist, it was succeeded by a common exclama- 
 tion of pleasure and surprise. For a minute, all 
 thought of pursuing the business in hand was 
 forgotten, and 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 moment 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-pos- 
 session, 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 trans- 
 ferring 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 delib- 
 erate 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 toward Hist; and, to Ju- 
 dith’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 gitl demanded, in the tones of a firm-minded 
 woman. “ He is a 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 keep- 
 ing in your tribe.” 
 
 This bold language, uttered in their own dia- 
 lect, and with a manner full of confidence, pro- 
 duced a deep sensation among the Hurons. 
 Treachery is always liable to distrust ; and, 
 though the recreant Briarthorn had endeavored 
 to serve the enemy well, his exertions and assidui- 
 ties had gained for him little more than tolera* 
 tion. 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 arisen 
 up among his new friends, weakening still more 
 their sympathies with treason. In a word, Briar- 
 thorn had been barely permitted to remain in the 
 Huron encampment, where he was as closely and 
 as jealously watched as Hist herself ; seldom ap- 
 pearing before the chiefs, and sedulously keeping 
 out of view of Deerslayer, who, until this moment, 
 was ignorant even of his presence. Thus sum- 
 moned, however, it was impossible to remain in 
 
THE HURONS DEFEATED. 
 
 the background. “ 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 colors, that, at first, the hunter did not 
 recognize him. He assumed an air of defiance, 
 notwithstanding, and haughtily demanded what 
 any could say against “ Briarthom.” 
 
 “Ask yourself that,” continued Hist, with 
 spirit, though her manner grew less concentrated ; 
 and there was a slight air of abstraction that be- 
 came observable to Deerslayer and Judith, if to 
 no others. “ Ask that of your own heart, sneak- 
 ing woodchuck of the Delawares ; come not here 
 with the face of an innocent man. Go look in 
 the spring ; see the colors of your enemies on 
 your lying skin ; and then come back and boast 
 how you ran 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, 
 n spite of his pretended love. 
 
 “ Who wishes Briarthorn ? ” he sternly asked. 
 “ If this pale-face is tired of life ; if afraid of In- 
 dian torments, speak, Rivenoak ; I will send him 
 after the warriors we have lost.” 
 
 “ No, chief, no, Rivenoak,” eagerly inter- 
 rupted Hist. “The Deerslayer fears nothing; 
 least of all a crow ! Unbind him — cut his 
 withes — place him face to face with this caw- 
 ing bird ; then let us see which of them is tired 
 of fife.” 
 
 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 war- 
 rior 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 sat- 
 isfied 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 
 
 227 
 
 delay having been continued long enough, and 
 leading to no result. 
 
 “Stop, Huron; stay, chiefs ! ” exclaimed Ju- 
 dith, scarcely 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 temer- 
 ity bordering on fool-hardiness. Five or six sen- 
 tinels 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 tid- 
 ings of import. Still, the movements of the stran- 
 ger were so rapid, and his war-dress, which scarce- 
 ly left him more drapery than an antique statue, 
 had so little distinguishing about it, that, at the 
 first moment, it was impossible to ascertain wheth- 
 er 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 ef- 
 fected did the stranger bestow a glance on any 
 other object ; then he turned and showed the as- 
 tonished 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 bold- 
 ly and in defiance on 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 extraordina- 
 ry 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 be- 
 yond 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 fol- 
 lowed him to your camp to see that no harm hap- 
 pened to him. All the Delaware girls are wait- 
 .jna -for Wall; they wonder that she stays away 
 
228 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 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 Briar- 
 thorn. “ 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 Dela- 
 ware. 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 re- 
 creant’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 prevented the Hurons from acting; but 
 this catastrophe permitted no further delay. A 
 common exclamation followed, and the whole par- 
 ty was in motion. At this instant, a sound un- 
 usual 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 gen- 
 eral 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 
 en a flank of the retiring Hurons, who were in- 
 clining off toward 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 an- 
 swering 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, how- 
 ever, the shrieks, groans, and denunciations that 
 usually accompany the use of the bayonet, fol- 
 lowed. 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. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 “ The flower that smiles to-day 
 To-morrow dies ; 
 
 All that we wish to stay, 
 
 Tempts and then flies ; 
 
 What is this world’s delight ? — 
 
 Lightning that mocks the night, 
 
 Brief even as bright.” 
 
 Shellst. 
 
 The picture next presented by the point of 
 land that the unfortunate Hurons had selected for 
 their last place of encampment, need scarcely be 
 laid before the eyes of the reader. Happily for 
 the more tender-minded and the more timid, the 
 trunks of the trees, the leaves, and the smoke, 
 had concealed much of that which passed ; and 
 night shortly after drew its veil over the lake, 
 and the whole of that seemingly interminable 
 wilderness, which may be said to have then 
 stretched, with far and immaterial interruptions, 
 from the banks of the Hudson to the shores of 
 the Pacific Ocean. Our business carries us into 
 the following day, when light returned upon tho 
 earth, as sunny and as smiling as if nothing ex- 
 traordinary had occurred. 
 
 When the sun rose on the following morning, 
 every sign of hostility and alarm had vanished 
 from the basin of the Glimmerglass. The fright- 
 fu. event of the preceding evening had left no 
 impression on the placid sheet, and the untiring 
 hours pursued their course in the placid order 
 prescribed by the powerful hand that set them in 
 motion. The birds were again skimming the 
 water, or were seen poised on the wing high 
 above the tops of the tallest pines of the moun- 
 tains, ready to make their swoops in obedienc© 
 
CAPTAIN WARLEY. 
 
 229 
 
 to the irresistible laws of their nature. In a 
 word, nothing was changed but the air of move- 
 ment and life that prevailed in and around the 
 castle. Here, indeed, was an alteration that must 
 have struck the least observant eye. A sentinel, 
 who wore the light-infantry uniform of a royal 
 regiment, paced the platform with measured tread, 
 and some twenty men of the same corps lounged 
 about the place, or were seated in the ark. Their 
 arms were stacked under the eye of their comrade 
 on post. Two officers stood examining the shore 
 with the ship’s glass so often mentioned. Their 
 looks were directed to that fatal point, where 
 scarlet coats were still to be seen gliding among 
 the trees, and where the magnifying power of the 
 instrument also showed spades at work, and the 
 sad duty of interment going on. Several of the 
 common men bore proofs on their persons that 
 their enemies had not been overcome entirely 
 without resistance ; and the youngest of the two 
 officers on the platform wore an arm in a sling. 
 His companion, who commanded the party, had 
 been more fortunate. He it was that used the 
 glass, in making the reconnoissances in which the 
 two were engaged. 
 
 A sergeant approached to make a report. 
 He addressed the senior of these officers as Cap- 
 tain Warley, while the other was alluded to as 
 
 Mr. , which was equivalent to Ensign 
 
 Thornton. The former, it will at once be seen, 
 was the officer who had been named with so much 
 feeling in the parting dialogue between Judith 
 and Hurry. He was, in truth, the very individual 
 with whom the scandal of the garrisons had most 
 freely connected the name of this beautiful but 
 indiscreet girl. He was a hard-featured, red-faced 
 man, of about five-and-thirty, but of a military 
 carriage, and with an air of fashion that might 
 easily impose on the imagination of one as igno- 
 rant of the world as Judith. 
 
 “Craig is covering us with benedictions,” ob- 
 gerred this person to his young ensign, with an 
 air of indifference, as he shut the glass and handed 
 it to his servant ; “ to say the truth, not without 
 reason ; it is certainly more agreeable to be here 
 in attendance on Miss Judith Hutter, than to be 
 burying Indians on a point of the lake, however 
 romantic the position or brilliant the victory. By- 
 the-way, Wright, is Davis still living? ” 
 
 “He died about ten minutes since, your 
 honor,” returned the sergeant, to whom this ques- 
 tion was addressed. “ I knew how it would be, 
 as soon as I found the bullet had touched the 
 stomach. I never knew a man who could hold 
 „ut long, if he had a hole in his stomach.” 
 
 “No; it is rather inconvenient for carrying 
 
 away any thing very nourishing,” observed War- 
 ley, gaping. — “ This being up two nights de suite, 
 Arthur, plays the devil with a man’s faculties l 
 I’m as stupid as one of those Dutch parsons on 
 the Mohawk — I hope your arm is not painful, my 
 dear boy ? ” 
 
 “ It draws a few grimaces from me, sir, as I 
 suppose you see,” answered the youth, laughing 
 at the very moment his countenance was a little 
 awry with pain. “But it may be borne. I sup- 
 pose Graham can spare a few minutes, soon, to 
 look at my hurt ? ” 
 
 “ She is a lovely creature, this Judith Hutter, 
 after all, Thornton ; and it shall not be my fault, 
 if she is not seen and admired in the parks ! ” 
 resumed Warley, who thought little of his com- 
 panion’s wound. “ Your arm, eh ! Quite true. — 
 Go into the ark, sergeant, and tell Dr. Graham I 
 desire he would look at Mr. Thornton’s injury as 
 soon as he has done with the poor fellow with the 
 broken leg. — A lovely creature ! and she looked 
 like a queen in that brocade dress in which wo 
 met her. I find all changed here ; father and 
 mother both gone, the sister dying, if not dead, 
 and none of the family left but the beauty ! This 
 has been a lucky expedition all round, and prom- 
 ises to terminate better than Indian skirmishes 
 in general.” 
 
 “ Am I to suppose, sir, that you are about to 
 desert your colors, in the great corps of bachelors, 
 and close the campaign with matrimony ? ” 
 
 “I, Tom Warley, turn Benedict! Faith, my 
 dear boy, you little know the corps you speak of, 
 if you fancy any such thing. I do suppose there 
 are women in the colohies that a captain of light- 
 infantry need not disdain ; but they are not to be 
 found up here on a mountain-lake ; or even down 
 on the Dutch river where we are posted. It is 
 true my uncle, the general, once did me the favor 
 to choose a wife for me, in Yorkshire ; but she 
 had no beauty — and I would not marry' a princess 
 unless she were handsome.” 
 
 “ If handsome, you would marry a beggar? ” 
 
 “ Ay, these are the notions of an ensign ! 
 Love in a cottage — doors — and windows — the old 
 
 story, for the hundredth time. The twenty -th 
 
 don’t marry. We are not a marrying corps, my 
 
 dear boy. There’s the colonel, old Sir Edwin , 
 
 now ; though a full general, he has never thought 
 of a wife ; and when a man gets as high as a 
 lieutenant-general, without matrimony, he is 
 pretty safe. Then the lieutenant-colonel is con- 
 firmed , as I tell my cousin, the bishop. The ma- 
 jor is a widower, having tried matrimony for 
 twelve months in his youth ; and we look upon 
 I him, now, as one of our most certain men. Out 
 
m 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 of ten captains, but one is in the dilemma ; and 
 he, poor devil, is always kept at regimental head- 
 quarters, as a sort of memento mori to the young 
 men as they join. As for the subalterns, not one 
 has ever yet had the- audacity to speak of intro- 
 ducing a wife into the regiment. But your arm 
 is troublesome, and we’ll go ourselves and see 
 what has become of Graham.” 
 
 The surgeon who had accompanied the party 
 was employed very differently from what the 
 captain supposed. When the assault was over, 
 and the dead and wounded were collected, poor 
 Hetty had been found among the latter. A rifle- 
 bullet had passed through her body, inflicting an 
 injury that was known at a glance to be mortaL 
 How this wound was received, no one knew ; it 
 was probably one of those casualties that ever 
 accompany scenes like that related in the previ- 
 ous chapter. The Sumach, all the elderly women, 
 some of the Huron girls, had fallen by the bayo- 
 net ; either in the confusion of the melee , or from 
 the difficulty of distinguishing the sexes, where 
 the dress was so simple. Much the greater por- 
 tion of the warriors suffered on the spot. A few 
 had escaped, however, and two or three had been 
 taken unharmed. As for the wounded, the bay- 
 onet saved the surgeon much trouble. Rivenoak 
 had escaped with life and limb ; but was injured 
 and a prisoner. As Captain Warley and his en- 
 sign went into the ark, they passed him, seated 
 in dignified silence, in one end of the scow, his 
 head and leg bound, but betraying no visible 
 signs of despondency 01 despair. That he 
 mourned the loss of his tribe, is certain ; still, he 
 did it in a manner that best became a warrior 
 and a chief. 
 
 The two soldiers found their surgeon in the 
 principal room of the ark. He was just quitting 
 the pallet of Hetty, with an expression of sorrow- 
 ful regret on his hard, pock-marked, Scottish fea- 
 tures, that it was not usual to see there. All 
 his assiduity had been useless, and he was com- 
 pelled reluctantly to abandon the expectation of 
 seeing the girl survive many hours. Dr. Graham 
 was accustomed to death-bed scenes, and ordi- 
 narily they produced but little impression on him. 
 In all that relates to religion, his was one of 
 those minds which, in consequence of reasoning 
 much on material things, logically and consecu- 
 tively, and overlooking the total want of premises 
 which such a theory must ever possess, through 
 its want of a primary agent, had become skepti- 
 cal ; leaving a vague opinion concerning the ori- 
 gin of things, that, with high pretensions to phi- 
 losophy, failed in the first of all philosophical prin- 
 ciples, a cause. To him religious dependence ap- 
 
 peared a weakness ; but when he found one gen. 
 tie and young like Hetty, with a mind beneath- 
 the level of her race, sustained at such a moment 
 by these pious sentiments, and that, too, in a way 
 that many a sturdy warrior and reputed here 
 might have looked upon with envy, he found him- 
 self affected by the sight, to a degree that ho 
 Would have been ashamed to confess. Edinburgh 
 and Aberdeen, then as now, supplied no small por- 
 tion of the medical men of the British service ; and 
 Dr. Graham, as indeed his name and countenance 
 equally indicated, was, by birth, a North Briton. 
 
 “ Here is an extraordinary exhibition for a 
 forest, and one but half-gifted with reason,” he 
 observed, with a decided Scotch accent, as War- 
 ley and the ensign entered ; “ I just hope, gentle- 
 men, that when we three shall be called on to quit 
 
 the twenty th, we may be found as resigned 
 
 to go on the half-pay of another existence as this 
 poor demented chiel ! ” 
 
 “ Is there no hope that she can survive the 
 hurt ? ” demanded Warley, turning his eyes tow- 
 ard the pallid Judith, on whose cheeks, however, 
 two large spots of red had settled as soon as he 
 came into the cabin. 
 
 “No more than there is for Chairlie Stuart. 
 Approach and judge for yourselves, gentlemen; 
 ye’ll see faith exemplified in an exceeding and 
 wonderful manner. There is a sort of arbilrium 
 between life and death, in actual conflict in the 
 poor girl’s mind, that renders her an interesting 
 study to a philosopher. — Mr. Thornton, I’m at 
 your service now ; we can just look at the arm, 
 in the next room, while we speculate as much as 
 we please on the operations and sinuosities of the 
 human mind.” • 
 
 The surgeon and ensign retired, and Warley 
 had an opportunity of looking about him more at 
 leisure, and with a better understanding of the 
 nature and feelings of the group collected in the 
 cabin. Poor Hetty had been placed on her own 
 simple bed, and was reclining in a half-seated at- 
 titude, with the approaches of death on her coun- 
 tenance, though they were singularly dimmed by 
 the lustre of an expression in which all the intel- 
 ligence of her entire being appeared to be con- 
 centrated. Judith and Hist were near her ; the 
 former seated in deep grief, the latter standing, 
 in readiness to offer any of the gentle attentions 
 of feminine care. Deerslayer stood at the end of 
 the pallet, leaning on Killdeer, unharmed in per- 
 son ; all the fine, martial ardor that had so lately 
 glowed in his countenance, having given place to 
 the usual look of honesty and benevolence ; qual- 
 ities of which the expression was now softened 
 by manly regret and pity. The Serpent was in 
 
AN AFFECTING SCENE. 
 
 231 
 
 the background of the picture, erect and motion- 
 less as a statue ; but so observant that not a look 
 of the eye escaped his own keen glance. Hurry 
 completed the group ; being seated on a stool 
 near the door, like one who felt himself out of 
 place in such a scene, but who was ashamed to 
 quit it unbidden. 
 
 “ Who is that in scarlet ? ” asked Hetty, as 
 soon as the captain’s uniform caught her eye. 
 “ Tell me, Judith, is it the friend of Hurry ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis the officer who commands the troops, 
 that have rescued us all from the hands of the 
 Hurons,” was the low answer of the sister. 
 
 “ Am I rescued, too ? — I thought they said I 
 was shot, and about to die. Mother is dead, and 
 so is father ; but you are living, Judith, and so is 
 Hurry. I was afraid Hurry would be killed, when 
 I heard him shouting among the soldiers.” 
 
 “ Never mind — never mind, dear Hetty,” in- 
 terrupted Judith, sensitively alive to the preser- 
 vation of her sister’s secret, more, perhaps, at such 
 a moment than at any other. “ Hurry is well, and 
 Deerslayer is well, and the Delaware is well, too.” 
 
 “ How came they to shoot a poor girl like me, 
 and let so many men go unharmed ? I didn’t 
 know that the Hurons were so wicked, Judith ! ” 
 
 “ ’Twas an accident, poor Hetty ; a sad acci- 
 dent it has been ! No one would willingly have 
 injured you" 
 
 “ I’m glad of that — I thought it strange : I am 
 feeble-minded, and the red men have never harmed 
 me before. I should be sorry to think that they 
 had changed their minds. I am glad, too, Judith, 
 that they haven’t hurt Hurry. Deerslayer, I don’t 
 think God will suffer any one to harm. It was 
 very fortunate the soldiers came as they did, 
 though, for fire will burn ! ” 
 
 “ It was, indeed, fortunate, my sister; God’s 
 holy name be forever blessed for the mercy ! ” 
 
 “ I dare say, Judith, you know some of the 
 officers ; you used to know so many.” 
 
 Judith made no reply ; she hid her face in her 
 hands and groaned. Hetty gazed at her in won- 
 der ; but naturally supposing her own situation 
 was the cause of this grief, she kindly offered to 
 console her sister. 
 
 “ Don’t mind me, dear Judith,” said the affec- 
 tionate and pure-hearted creature — “ I don’t suf- 
 fer, if I do die ; why, father and mother are both 
 dead, and what happens to them may well happen 
 to me. You know I am of less account than any 
 cf the family ; therefore, few will think of me 
 after I’m in the lake.” 
 
 “No, no, no— -poor, dear, dear Hetty!” ex- 
 claimed Judith, in an uncontrollable burst of sor- 
 row-— I, at least, will ever think of you ; and 
 
 gladly, oh, how gladly, would I exchange places 
 with you, to be the pure, excellent, sinless creature 
 you are ! ” 
 
 Until now, Captain Warley had stood leaning 
 against the door of the cabin ; when this out- 
 break of feeling, and perchance of penitence, 
 escaped the beautiful girl, he walked slowly and 
 thoughtfully away ; even passing the ensign, then 
 suffering under the surgeon’s care, without noti- 
 cing him. 
 
 “ I have got my Bible here, Judith ! ” re- 
 turned her sister, in a voice of triumph. “ It’s 
 true, I can’t read any longer ; there’s something 
 the matter with my eyes — you look dim and dis- 
 tant — and so does Hurry, now I look at him ; 
 well, I never could have believed that Henry 
 March would have so dull a look. What can be 
 the reason, Judith, that I see so badly to-day ? 
 I, who mother always said had the best eyes 
 in the whole family. Yes, that was it ; my mind 
 was feeble — what people call half-witted — but 
 my eyes were so good.” 
 
 Again .Judith groaned; this time no feeling 
 of self, no retrospect of the past, caused the 
 pain. It was the pure, heart-felt sorrow of sis- 
 terly love, heightened by a sense of the meek 
 humility and perfect truth of the being before 
 her. At that moment, she would gladly have 
 given up her own life to save that of Hetty. As 
 the last, however, was beyond the reach of hu- 
 man power, she felt there was nothing left her 
 but sorrow. At this moment Warley returned 
 to the cabin, drawn by a secret impulse he could 
 not withstand, though he felt, just then, as if he 
 would gladly abandon the American Continent 
 forever, were it practicable. Instead of pausing 
 at the door, he now advanced so near the pallet 
 of the sufferer as to come more plainly within 
 her gaze. Hetty could still distinguish large ob- 
 jects, and her look soon fastened on him. 
 
 “ Are you the officer that came with Hurry ? ” 
 she asked. “ If you are, we ought all to thank 
 you ; for, though I am hurt, the rest have saved 
 their lives. Did Harry March tell you where to 
 find us, and how much need there was for your 
 services ? ” 
 
 “ The news of the party reached us by means 
 of a friendly runner,” returned the captain, glad 
 to relieve his feelings by this appearance of a 
 friendly communication ; “ and I was immediate- 
 ly sent out to cut it off. It was fortunate, cer- 
 tainly, that we met Hurry Harry, as you call him, 
 for he acted as a guide ; and it was not less for- 
 tunate that we heard a firing, which I now un- 
 derstand was merely a shooting at the mark, for 
 it not only quickened our march, but called ua 
 
232 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 to the right side of the lake. The Delaware saw 
 us on the shore, with the glass, it would seem ; 
 and he and Hist, as I find his squaw is named, 
 did us excellent service.— It was, really, alto- 
 gether a fortunate concurrence of circumstances, 
 Judith.” 
 
 “ Talk not to me of any thing fortunate, sir,” 
 returned the girl, huskily, again concealing her 
 face. “ To me the world is full of misery. I 
 wish never to hear of marks, or rifles, or sol- 
 diers, or men again.” 
 
 “ Do you know my sister ? ” asked Hetty, ere 
 the rebuked soldier had time to rally for an an- 
 swer. “How came you to know that her name 
 is Judith ? You are right, for that is her name ; 
 and I am Hetty ; Thomas Hutter’s daughters.” 
 
 “For Heaven’s sake, dearest sister; for my 
 sake, beloved Hetty,” interposed Judith, implor- 
 ingly, “ say no more of this ! ” 
 
 Hetty looked surprised ; but, accustomed to 
 comply, she ceased her awkward and painful in- 
 terrogatories of Warley, bending her eyes toward 
 the Bible, which she still held between her hands, 
 as one would cling to a casket of precious stones, 
 in a shipwreck or a conflagration. Her mind 
 now reverted to the future, losing sight, in a 
 great measure, of the scenes of the past. 
 
 ‘ We shall not long be parted, Judith,” she 
 said ; “ when you die, you must be brought and 
 buried in the lake, by the side of mother, too.” 
 
 “Would to God, Hetty, that I lay there at 
 this moment ! ”, 
 
 “ No ; that cannot be, Judith ; people must die 
 before they have any right to be buried. ’Twould 
 be wicked to bury you, or for you to bury your- 
 self while living. Once I thought of burying 
 myself. God kept me from that sin.” 
 
 “ You ! — you, Hetty Hutter, think of such an 
 act ? ” exclaimed Judith, looking up in uncon- 
 trollable surprise, for she well knew nothing 
 passed the lips of her conscientious sister that 
 was not religiously true. 
 
 “Yes, I did, Judith; but God has forgotten 
 —no, he forgets nothing — but he has forgiven 
 it,” returned the dying girl, with the subdued 
 manner of a repentant child. “ ’Twas after 
 mother’s death ; I felt I had lost the best friend 
 I had on earth, if not the only friend. ’Tis true, 
 you and father were kind to me, Judith, but I 
 was so feeble-minded - knew I should only give 
 you trouble ; and then you were so often ashamed 
 of such a sister and daughter ; and ’tis hard to 
 live in a world where all look upon you as below 
 them. I thought then if I could bury myself by 
 the side of mother, I should be happier in the 
 lake than in the hut.’’ 
 
 “ Forgive me — pardon me, dearest Hetty ; on 
 my bended knees, I beg you to pardon me, sweet 
 sister, if any word or act of mine drove you to 
 so maddening and cruel a thought.” 
 
 “ Get up, Judith ; kneel to God — don’t kneel 
 to me. Just so I felt when mother was dying, 
 I remembered every thing I had said and done 
 to vex her, and could have kissed her feet for 
 forgiveness. I think it must be so with all dy. 
 ing people ; though, now I think of it, I don’t 
 remember to have had such feelings on account 
 of father.” 
 
 Judith arose, hid her face in her apron, and 
 wept. A long pause — one of more than two 
 hours — succeeded, during which Warley entered 
 and left the cabin several times ; apparently un- 
 easy when absent, and yet unable to remain. He 
 issued various orders, which his men proceeded 
 to execute ; and there was an air of movement 
 in the party, more especially as Mr. Craig, the 
 lieutenant, had got through the unpleasant duty 
 of burying the dead, and had sent for instruc- 
 tions from the shore, desiring to know what he 
 was to do with his detachment. During this 
 interval, Hetty slept a little, and Deerslayer and 
 Chingachgook left the ark to confer together. 
 But, at the end of the time mentioned, the sur- 
 geon passed upon the platform ; and with a de- 
 gree of feeling his comrades had never before 
 observed in one of his habits, he announced that 
 the patient was rapidly drawing near her end. 
 On receiving this intelligence, the group collected 
 again ; curiosity to witness such a death — or a 
 better feeling — drawing to the spot men who had 
 so lately been actors in a scene seemingly of so 
 much greater interest and moment. By this time 
 Judith had got to be inactive, through grief ; and 
 Hist alone was performing the little offices of 
 feminine attention that are so appropriate to the 
 sick-bed. Hetty herself had undergone no other 
 apparent change, than the general failing that in- 
 dicated the near approach of dissolution. All 
 that she possessed of mind was as clear as ever ; 
 and, in some respects, her intellect, perhaps, was 
 more than usually active. , 
 
 “ Don’t grieve for me so much, Judith,” said 
 the gentle sufferer, after a pause in her remarks ; 
 “ I shall soon see mother ; I think I see her now ; 
 her face is just as sweet and smiling as it used to 
 be ! Perhaps when I’m dead, God will give me 
 all my mind, and I shall become a more fitting 
 companion for mother than I ever was before.” 
 
 “You will be an angel in heaven, Hetty,” 
 sobbed the sister ; “ no spirit there will be more 
 worthy of its holy residence 1 ” 
 
 “ I don’t understand it quite ; still I know ft 
 
HETTY’S DEATH. 
 
 233 
 
 must be all true ; I’ve read it in the Bible. How 
 dark it’s becoming ! Can it be night so soon ? 
 I can hardly see you at all ; where is Hist ? ” 
 
 “ I here, poor girl ; why you no see me ? ” 
 
 “ I do see you ; but I couldn’t tell whether 
 ’twas you or Judith. I believe I sha’n’t see you 
 mnch longer, Hist.” 
 
 “ Sorry for that, poor Hetty. Never mind ; 
 pale-face got a heaven for girl as well as for war- 
 rior.” 
 
 “Where’s the Serpent? Let me speak to 
 nim ; give me his hand ; so ; I feel it. — Delaware, 
 will you love and cherish this young Indian 
 woman ; I know how fond she is of you ; and you 
 must be fond of her . Don’t treat her as some of 
 your people treat their wives ; be a real husband 
 to her. — Now bring Deerslayer near me ; give me 
 his hand.” 
 
 This request was complied with, and the 
 nunter stood by the side of the pallet, submitting 
 to the wishes of the girl with the docility of a child. 
 
 “ I feel, Deerslayer,” she resumed, “ though 
 I couldn’t tell why— but I feel that you and I are 
 not going to part forever. ’Tis a strange feel- 
 ing! I never had it before; I wonder what it 
 comes from ? ” 
 
 “’Tis God encouraging you in extremity, 
 Hetty ; as such it ought to be harbored and re- 
 spected. Yes, w e shall meet ag’in, though it may 
 be a long time first, and in a far-distant land.” 
 
 “ Do you mean to be buried in the lake, too ? 
 If so, that may account for the feeling.” 
 
 “’Tis little likely, gal; ’tis little likely: but 
 there’s a region for Christian souls where there’s 
 no lakes nor woods, they say ; though why there 
 should be none of the last , is more than I can 
 account for ; seeing that pleasantness and peace 
 is the object in view. My grave will be found in 
 the forest, most likely, but I hope my spirit will 
 not be far from your’n.” 
 
 “ So it must be, then. I am too weak-minded 
 to understand these things, but I feel that you 
 and I will meet again. — Sister, where are you ? 
 I can’t see now any thing but darkness. It must 
 be night, surely ! ” 
 
 “ 0 Hetty ! I am here at your side ; these are 
 my arms that are around you,” sobbed Judith. 
 “ Speak, dearest ; is there any thing you wish 
 to say, or have done* in this awful moment ? ” 
 
 By this time Hetty’s sight had entirely failed 
 her. Nevertheless, death approached with less 
 than usual of its horrors, as if in tenderness to 
 one of her half-endowed faculties. She was pale 
 as a corpse, but her breathing was easy and un- 
 broken, while her voice, though lowered almost 
 to a whisper, remained clear and distinct. When 
 
 her sister put this question, however, a blush dif« 
 fused itself over the features of the dying girl ; so 
 faint, however, as to be nearly imperceptible; 
 resembling that hue of the rose which is thought 
 to portray the tint of modesty, rather than the 
 dye of the flower in its richer bloom. No one 
 but Judith detected this expression of feeling, 
 one of the gentle expressions of womanly sensi- 
 bility, even in death. On her, however, it was not 
 lost, nor did she conceal from herself the cause. 
 
 “ Hurry is here, dearest Hetty,” whispered the 
 sister, with her face so near the sufferer as to 
 keep the words from other ears. “Shall I tell 
 him to come and receive your good wishes ? ” 
 
 A gentle pressure of the hand answered in 
 the affirmative, and then Hurry was brought to 
 the side of the pallet. It is probable that this 
 handsome but rude woodsman had never before 
 found himself so awkwardly placed, though the 
 inclination which Hetty felt for him (a sort of 
 secret yielding to the instincts of nature, rather 
 than any unbecoming impulse of an ill-regulated 
 imagination) was too pure and unobtrusive to 
 have created the slightest suspicion of the circum- 
 stance in his mind. He allowed Judith to put 
 his hard, colossal hand between those of Hetty, 
 and stood waiting the result in awkward silence. 
 
 “ This is Hurry, dearest,” whispered Judith, 
 bending over her sister, ashamed to utter the 
 words so as to be audible to herself ; “ speak to 
 him and let him go.” 
 
 “ What shall I say, Judith ? ” 
 
 “Nay, whatever your own pure spirit teaches, 
 my love. Trust to that, and you need fear 
 nothing.” 
 
 “ Good-by, Hurry,” murmured the girl, with 
 a gentle pressure of his hand. “I wish you 
 would try and be more like Deerslayer.” 
 
 These words were uttered with difficulty ; a 
 faint flush succeeded them for a single instant, 
 then the hand was relinquished, and Hetty turned 
 her face aside, as if done with the world. The 
 mysterious feeling that bound her to the young 
 man, a sentiment so gentle as to be almost im- 
 perceptible to herself, and which could never have 
 existed at all, had her reason possessed more 
 command over her senses, was forever lost in 
 thoughts of a more elevated, though scarcely of 
 a purer character. 
 
 “ Of what are you thinking, my sweet sister ? ” 
 whispered Judith ; “ tell me, that I may aid you 
 at this moment.” 
 
 “Mother — I see mother, now, and bright 
 beings around her in the lake. Why isn’t father 
 there? It’s odd that I can see mother when I 
 can’t see you 1 Farewell, Judith.” 
 
234 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 These last words were uttered after a pause, 
 and her sister had hung over her some time, in 
 anxious watchfulness, before she perceived that 
 the gentle spirit had departed. Thus died Hetty 
 Hutter, one of those mysterious links between the 
 material and immaterial world, which, while they 
 appear to be deprived of so much that is es- 
 teemed, and necessary for this state of being, draw 
 so near to, and offer so beautiful an illustration 
 of, the truth, purity, and simplicity of another. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 “ A baron’s chylde to be begylde ! it were a cursed dede : 
 
 To be felawe with an outlawe I Almighty God forbede ! 
 Yea, better were, the poor squySre, alone to forest yede, 
 Than ye sholde say, another day, that by my cursed dede 
 Ye were betrayed : wherefore, good mayde, the best rede 
 that I can 
 
 Is, that I to the grene wode go, alone, a banyshed man.” 
 
 Notbkowne Mayde. 
 
 The day that followed proved to be melan- 
 choly, though one of much activity. The soldiers, 
 who had so lately been employed in interring their 
 victims, were now called on to bury their own 
 dead. The scene of the morning had left a sad- 
 dened feeling on all the gentlemen of the party, 
 and the rest felt the influence of a similar sensa- 
 tion, in a variety of ways, and from many causes. 
 Hour dragged on after hour until evening arrived, 
 and then came the last melancholy offices, in 
 honor of poor Hetty Hutter. The body was laid 
 in the lake by the side of that mother she had so 
 loved and reverenced ; the surgeon, though act- 
 ually an unbeliever, so far complying with the 
 received decencies of life as to read the funeral 
 service over her grave, as he had previously 
 done over those of the other Christian slain. It 
 mattered not — that all-seeing eye which reads the 
 heart, could not fail to discriminate between the 
 living and the dead, and the gentle soul of the 
 unfortunate girl was already far removed beyond 
 the errors or deceptions of any human ritual. 
 These simple rites, however, were not wholly 
 wanting in suitable accompaniments. The tears 
 of Judith and Hist were shed freely, and Deer- 
 slayer gazed upon the limpid water that now 
 flowed over one whose spirit was even purer than 
 its own mountain-springs, with glistening eyes. 
 Even the Delaware turned aside to conceal his 
 weakness, while the common men gazed on the 
 ceremony with wondering eyes and chastened 
 feelings. 
 
 The business of the dav closed with this pi- 
 
 ous office. By order of the commanding officer 
 all retired early to rest, for it was intended to be- 
 gin the march homeward with the return of light. 
 One party indeed, bearing the wounded, the pris- 
 oners, and the trophies, had left the castle in the 
 middle of the day, under the guidance of Hurry, 
 intending to reach the fort by shorter marches. 
 It had been landed on the point so often men- 
 tioned, or that described in our opening pages ; 
 and, when the sun set, was already encamped on 
 the brow of the long, broken, and ridgy hills that 
 fell away toward the valley of the Mohawk. The 
 departure of this detachment had greatly simpli- 
 fied the duty of the succeeding day, disencumber- 
 ing its march of its baggage and wounded, and 
 otherwise leaving him who had issued the order 
 greater liberty of action. 
 
 Judith held no communication with any but 
 Hist, after the death of her sister, until she re- 
 tired for the night. Her sorrow had been re- 
 spected, and both the females had been left with 
 the body unintruded on to the last moment. The 
 rattling of the drum broke the silence of that 
 tranquil water, and the echoes of the tattoo were 
 heard among the mountains so soon after the 
 ceremony was over as to preclude the danger of 
 interruption. That star which had been the 
 guide of Hist, rose on a scene as silent as if the 
 quiet of Nature had never yet been disturbed by 
 the labors or passions of man. One solitary sen- 
 tinel, with his relief, paced the platform through- 
 out the night ; and morning was ushered in, as 
 usual, by the martial beat of the reveille. 
 
 Military precision succeeded to the desultory 
 proceedings of border-men, and, when a hasty 
 and frugal breakfast was taken, the party began 
 its movement toward the shore with a regularity 
 and order that prevented noise or confusion. Of 
 all the officers, Warley alone remained. Craig 
 headed the detachment in advance, Thornton was 
 with the wounded, and Graham accompanied his 
 patients, as a matter of course. Even the chest 
 of Hutter, with all the more valuable of his ef- 
 fects, was borne away, leaving nothing behind 
 that was worth the labor of a removal. Judith 
 was not sorry to see that the captain respected 
 her feelings, and that he occupied himself entirely 
 with the duty of his command, leaving her to her 
 own discretion and feelings. It was understood 
 by all that the place was to be totally abandoned ; 
 but beyond this no explanations were asked oi 
 given. 
 
 The soldiers embarked in the ark, with the 
 captain at their head. He had inquired of Ju- 
 dith in what way she chose to proceed, and, un- 
 derstanding her wish to remain with Hist to the 
 
A PLAIN PROPOSAL. 
 
 235 
 
 l&st moment, he neither molested her with re- 
 quests, nor offended her with advice. There was 
 but one safe and familiar trail to the Mohawk ; 
 and on that, at the proper hour, he doubted not 
 that they should meet in amity, if not in renewed 
 intercourse. 
 
 When all were on board, the sweeps were 
 manned, and the ark moved in its sluggish man- 
 ner toward the distant point. Deerslayer and 
 Chingachgook now lifted two of the canoes from 
 the water and placed them in the castle. The 
 windows and door were then barred, and the 
 house was left, by means of the trap, in the man- 
 ner already described. On quitting the palisades, 
 Hist was seen in the remaining canoe, where the 
 Delaware immediately joined her and paddled 
 away, leaving Judith standing alone on the plat- 
 form. Owing to this prompt proceeding, Deer- 
 slayer found himself alone with the beautiful and 
 still-weeping mourner. Too simple to suspect 
 any thing, the young man swept the light boat 
 round and received its mistress in it, when he 
 followed the course already taken by his friend. 
 
 The direction to the point led diagonally past, 
 and at no great distance from, the graves of the 
 dead. As the canoe glided by, Judith, for the 
 first time that morning, spoke to her companion. 
 She said but little, merely uttering a simple re- 
 quest to stop for a minute or two ere she left the 
 place. 
 
 “ I may never see this spot again, Deerslayer,” 
 she said, “ and it contains the bodies of my moth- 
 er and sister ! Is it not possible, think you, that 
 the innocence of one of these beings may answer, 
 in the eyes of God, for the salvation of both ? ” 
 
 “ I don’t understand it so, Judith ; though 
 I’m no missionary, and am but poorly taught. 
 Each spirit answers for its own backslidings ; 
 though a hearty repentance will satisfy God’s 
 laws.” 
 
 “Then must my poor, poor mother be in 
 heaven ? — 'Bitterly — bitterly — has she repented 
 of her sins ; and surely her sufferings in this life 
 ought to count as something against her suffer- 
 ings in the next ! ” 
 
 “All this goes beyond me, Judith. I strive 
 to do right here, as the surest means of keeping 
 all right hereafter. Hetty was oncommon, as all 
 that know’d her must allow ; and her soul was as 
 fit to consort with angels the hour it left its body, 
 as that of any saint in the Bible ! ” 
 
 “ I do believe you only do her justice ! Alas ! 
 — alas ! — that there should be so great differences 
 between those who were nursed at the same 
 breast, slept in the same bed, and dwelt under 
 the same roof! But, no matter — move the ca- 
 
 noe a little farther east, Deerslayer — the sun so 
 dazzles my eyes that I cannot see the graves 
 This is Hetty’s, on the right of mother’s ? ” 
 
 “ Sartain — you asked that of us ; and all are 
 glad to do as you wish, J udith, when you do that 
 which is right.” 
 
 The girl gazed at him near a minute in silent 
 attention; then she turned her eyes backward at 
 the castle. 
 
 “This lake will soon be entirely deserted,* 
 she said, “ and this, too, at a moment when it 
 will be a more secure dwelling-place than ever. 
 What has so lately happened will prevent the 
 Iroquois from venturing again to visit it for a 
 long time to come.” 
 
 “ That it will ! — yes, that may be set down as 
 settled. I do not mean to pass this-a-way ag’in 
 so long as the war lasts ; for, to my mind, no Hu- 
 ron moccasin will leave its print on the leaves of 
 this forest until their traditions have forgotten to 
 tell their young men of their disgrace and rout.” 
 
 “ And do you so delight in violence and blood- 
 shed ? I had thought better of you , Deerslayer — 
 believed you one who could find his happiness in 
 a quiet, domestic home, with an attached and lov- 
 ing wife ready to study your wishes, and healthy 
 and dutiful children anxious to ioilow in your 
 footsteps, and to become as honest and just as 
 yourself.” 
 
 “ Lord, Judith, what a tongue you’re mistress 
 of ! Speech and looks go hand in hand like ; and 
 what one can’t do, the other is pretty sartain to 
 perform ! Such a gal, in a month, might spoil 
 the stoutest warrior in the colony.” 
 
 “ And am I then so mistaken ? Do you really 
 love war, Deerslayer, better than the hearth and 
 the affections ? ” 
 
 “ I understand your meaning, gal ; yes, I do 
 understand what you mean, I believe, though I 
 don’t think you altogether understand me. War- 
 rior I may call myself, I suppose, for I’ve both 
 fou’t and conquered, which is sufficient for the 
 name ; neither will I deny that I’ve feelin’s for the 
 callin’, which is both manful and honorable, when 
 carried on accordin’ to nat’ral gifts — but I’ve no 
 relish for blood. Youth is youth, howsever, and a 
 Mingo is a Mingo. If the young men of this region 
 stood by and suffered the vagabonds to overrun 
 the land, why, we might as well all turn Frenchera 
 at once, and give up country and kin. I’m no 
 fire-eater, Judith, or one that likes fightin’ for 
 fightin’s sake ; but I can see no great difference 
 atween givin' up territory afore a war, out of a 
 dread of war , and givin ’ it up o' ter a war, became 
 we can't help it — onless it be that the last is the mod 
 manful and honorable 
 
236 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 “ No woman would ever wish to see her hus- 
 band or brother stand by and submit to insult 
 and wrong, Deerslayer, however she might mourn 
 the necessity of his running into the dangers of 
 battle. But you’ve done enough already in clear- 
 ing this region of the Hurons ; since to you is 
 principally owing the credit of our late victory. 
 Now, listen to me patiently, and answer me with 
 that native honesty which it is as pleasant to re- 
 gard in one of your sex as it is unusual to meet 
 with.” 
 
 Judith paused ; for, now that she was on the 
 very point of explaining herself, native modesty 
 asserted its power, notwithstanding the encour- 
 agement and confidence she derived from the 
 great simplicity of her companion’s character. 
 Her cheeks, which had so lately been pale, 
 flushed, and her eyes lighted with some of their 
 former brilliancy. Feeling gave expression to 
 her countenance, and softness to her voice, ren- 
 dering her who was always beautiful, trebly se- 
 ductive and winning. 
 
 “Deerslayer,” she said, after a considerable 
 pause, “ this is not a moment for affectation, de- 
 ception, or a want of frankness of any sort. 
 Here, over my mother’s grave, and over the grave 
 of truth-loving, truth-telling Hetty, every thing 
 like unfair dealing seems to be out of place. I 
 will therefore speak to you without any reserve, 
 and without any dread of being misunderstood. 
 You are not an acquaintance of a week, but it ap- 
 pears to me as if I had known you for years. So 
 much, and so much that is important, has taken 
 place within that short time, that the sorrows, and 
 dangers, and escapes of a whole life have been 
 crowded into a few days ; and they who have suf- 
 fered and acted together in such scenes, ought 
 not to feel like strangers. I know that what I 
 am about to say might be misunderstood by most 
 men, but I hope for a generous construction of 
 my course from you. We are not here dwelling 
 among the arts and deceptions of the settlements, 
 but young people who have no occasion to de- 
 ceive each other, in any manner or form. I hope 
 I make myself understood ? ” 
 
 “Sartain, Judith; few convarse better than 
 yourself, and none more agreeable, like. Your 
 words are as pleasant as your looks.” 
 
 “ It is the manner in which you have so often 
 praised those looks, that gives me courage to pro- 
 ceed. Still, Deerslayer, it is not easy for one of 
 my sex and years to forget all her lessons of in- 
 fancy, all her habits, and her natural diffidence, 
 and say openly what her heart feels 1” 
 
 “ Why not, Judith ? Why shouldn’t women 
 as well as men deal fairly and honestly by their 
 
 fellow-creatur’s ? I see no reason why you should 
 not speak as plainly as myself, when there is any 
 thing ra’ally important to be said.” 
 
 This indomitable diffidence, which still pre- 
 vented the young man from suspecting the truth, 
 would have completely discouraged the girl, had 
 not her whole soul, as well as her whole heart, 
 been set upon making a desperate effort to rescue 
 herself from a future that she dreaded with a hor- 
 ror as vivid as the distinctness with which she 
 fancied she foresaw it. This motive, however, 
 raised her above all common considerations, and 
 she persevered even to her own surprise, if not to 
 her great confusion. 
 
 “ I will— I must deal as plainly with you, as I 
 would with poor, dear Hetty, were that sweet 
 child living!” she continued, turning pale, instead 
 of blushing, the high resolution by which she was 
 prompted reversing the effect that such a pro- 
 cedure would ordinarily produce on one of her 
 sex ; “ yes, I will smother all other feelings in 
 the one that is now uppermost ! You love the 
 woods and the life that we pass here, in the wil- 
 derness, away from the dwellings and towns of 
 the whites ? ” 
 
 “ As I loved my parents, Judith, when they 
 was living ! This very spot would be all creation 
 to me, could this war be fairly over, once ; and 
 the settlers kept at a distance.” 
 
 “Why quit it, then? It has no owner — at 
 least none who can claim a better right than 
 mine, and that I freely give to you. Were it a 
 kingdom, Deerslayer, I think I should delight to 
 say the same. Let us then return to it, after we 
 have seen the priest at the fort, and never quit it 
 again, until God calls us away to that world 
 where we shall find the spirits of my poor moth- 
 er and sister.” 
 
 A long, thoughtful pause succeeded ; Judith 
 having covered her face with both hands, after 
 forcing herself to utter so plain a proposal, and 
 Deerslayer musing equally in sorrow and surprise, 
 on the meaning of the language he had just heard. 
 At length the hunter broke the silence, speaking 
 in a tone that was softened to gentleness by his 
 desire not to offend. 
 
 “You haven’t thought well of this, Judith,” 
 he said ; “ no, your feelin’s are awakened by all 
 that has lately happened, and believin’ yourself to 
 be without kindred in the world, you are in too 
 great haste to find some to fill the places of them 
 that’s lost.” 
 
 “ Were I living in a crowd of friends, Deer- 
 slayer, I should still think, as 1 now think — say 
 as I now say,” returned Judith, speaking with her 
 hands still shading her lovely face. 
 
REJECTED. 
 
 237 
 
 “ Thank you, gal — thank you, from the bottom 
 of my heart. Howsever, I am not one to take 
 advantage of a weak moment, when you’re forget- 
 ful of your own great advantages, and fancy ’arth 
 and all it holds, is in thi3 little canoe. No — no 
 —Judith, ’twould be onginerous in me; what 
 you’ve offered can never come to pass ! ” 
 
 “ It all may be, uid that without leaving cause 
 of repentance to any,” answered Judith, with an 
 impetuosity of feeling and manner that at once 
 unveiled her eyes. “We can cause the soldiers 
 to leave our goods on the road, till we return, 
 when they can easily be brought back to the 
 house ; the lake will be no more visited by the 
 enemy this war, at least ; all your skins may be 
 readily sold at the garrison; there yon can buy 
 the few necessaries we shall want, for I wish 
 never to see the spot again; and, Deerslayer,” 
 added the girl, s mi ling with a sweetness and nature 
 that the young man found it hard to resist ; “ as 
 a proof how wholly I am and wish to be yours — 
 how completely I desire to be nothing but your 
 wife, the very first fire that we kindle, after our 
 return, shall be lighted with the brocade dress, 
 and fed by every article I have that you may 
 think unfit for the woman you wish to live with ! ” 
 
 “Ah’s me! — you’re a winning and a lovely 
 creatur’, Judith ; yes, you are all that, and no one 
 can deny it, and speak truth. These pictur’s are 
 pleasant to the thoughts, but they mightn’t prove 
 so happy as you now think ’em. Forget it all, 
 therefore, and let us paddle after the Sarpent and 
 Hist, as if nothing had been said on the subject.” 
 
 Judith was deeply mortified, and, what is 
 more, she was profoundly grieved. Still there 
 was a steadiness and quiet in the manner of Deer- 
 slayer that completely smothered her hopes, and 
 told her that, for once, her exceeding beauty had 
 failed to excite the admiration and homage it was 
 wont to receive. Women are said seldom to for- 
 give those who slight their advances ; but this 
 high-spirited and impetuous girl entertained no 
 shadow of resentment, then or ever, against the 
 fair-dealing and ingenuous hunter. At the mo- 
 ment, the prevailing feeling was the wish to be 
 certain that there was no misunderstanding. After 
 another painful pause, therefore, she brought the 
 matter to an issue, by a question too direct to 
 admit of equivocation. 
 
 “ God forbid that we lay up regrets in after- 
 life, through any want of sincerity now !” she said. 
 “I hope we understand each other at least. You 
 will not accept me for a wife, Deerslayer ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis better for both that I shouldn’t take 
 advantage of your own forgetfulness, Judith. We 
 can never marry.” 
 
 “You do not love me — cannot find it in your 
 heart, perhaps, to esteem me, Deerslayer ! ” 
 
 “ Every thing in the way of fri’ndship, Judith 
 — every thing, even to sarvices and life itself. 
 Yes, I’d risk as much for you, at this moment, as 
 I would risk in behalf of Hist : and that is say in* 
 as much as I can say of any darter of woman. I 
 do not think I feel toward either — mind I say 
 either, Judith — as if I wished to quit father and 
 mother — if father and mother was livin’ ; which, 
 however, neither is — but if both was livin’, I do 
 not feel toward any woman as if I wish’d to quit 
 ’em in order to cleave unto her.” 
 
 “ This is enough ! ” answered Judith, in a re- 
 buked and smothered voice; “I understand all 
 that you mean. Marry you cannot, without lov- 
 ing ; and that love you do not feel for me. Make 
 no answer if I am right, for I shall understand 
 your silence. That will be painful enough of it- 
 self.” 
 
 Deerslayer obeyed her, and he made no reply. 
 For more than a minute the girl riveted her bright 
 eyes on him as if to read his soul ; while he sat 
 playing with the water, like a corrected school- 
 boy. Then Judith herself dropped the end of 
 her paddle, and urged the canoe away from the 
 spot, with a movement as reluctant as the feelings 
 which controlled it. Deerslayer quietly aided the 
 effort, however, and they were soon on the track- 
 less line taken by the Delaware. 
 
 In their way to the point, not another syl- 
 lable was exchanged between Deerslayer and his 
 fair companion. As Judith sat in the bow of the 
 canoe, her back was turned toward him, else it 
 is probable the expression of her countenance 
 might have induced him to venture some sooth- 
 ing terms of friendship and regard. Contrary to 
 what would have been expected, resentment was 
 still absent, though the color frequently changed 
 from the deep flush of mortification to the pale- 
 ness of disappointment. Sorrow, deep, heart- 
 felt sorrow, however, was the predominant emo- 
 tion, and this was betrayed in a manner not to be 
 mistaken. 
 
 As neither labored hard at the paddle, the 
 ark had already arrived, and the soldiers had dis- 
 embarked before the canoe of the two loiterers 
 reached the point. Chingachgook had preceded 
 it, and was already some distance in the wood, at 
 a spot where the two trails, that to the garrison 
 and that to the villages of the Delawares, sepa- 
 rated. The soldiers, too, had taken up their line 
 of march ; first setting the ark adrift again, with 
 a reckless disregard of its fate. All this Judith 
 saw, but she heeded it not. The Glimmerglass 
 had no longer any charms for her ; and when 
 
238 
 
 THE DEERSLAYER. 
 
 she put her foot on the strand, she immediately 
 proceeded on the trail of the soldiers, without 
 casting a single glance behind her. Even Hist, 
 was passed unnoticed ; that modest young crea- 
 ture shrinking from the averted face of Judith, 
 as if guilty herself of some wrong-doing. 
 
 “ Wait you here, Sarpent,” said Deerslayer, as 
 he followed in the footsteps of the dejected 
 beauty, while passing his friend. “ I will just 
 see Judith among her party, and come and j’ine 
 you.” 
 
 A hundred yards had hid the couple from 
 those in front, as well as those in the rear, when 
 Judith turned and spoke. 
 
 “ This will do, Deerslayer,” she said, sadly. 
 “ I understand your kindness, but shall not need 
 it In a few minutes I shall reach the soldiers. 
 As you cannot go with me on the journey of life, 
 I do not wish you to go farther on this. But stop ; 
 before we part I would ask you a single question. 
 And I require of you, as you fear God, and reverence 
 the truth, not to deceive me in your answer. I 
 know you do not love another ; and I can see but 
 one reason why you cannot, will not love me. 
 Tell me, then, Deerslayer — ” The girl paused, 
 the words she was about to utter, seeming to 
 choke her. Then rallying all her resolution, with 
 a face that flushed and paled at every breath she 
 drew, she continued : “ Tell me, then, Deerslayer, 
 if any thing light of me, that Henry March has 
 said, may not have influenced your feelings ? ” 
 
 Truth was the Deerslayer’s polar star. He 
 ever kept it in view ; and it was nearly impossible 
 for him to avoid uttering it, even when prudence 
 demanded silence. Judith read his answer in his 
 countenance ; and with a heart nearly broken by 
 the consciousness of undeserving, she signed to 
 him an adieu, and buried herself in the ’woods. 
 For some time Deerslayer was irresolute as to his 
 course , but in the end, he retraced his steps and 
 joined the Delaware. That night, the three 
 “ camped ” on the head-waters of their own river, 
 and the succeeding evening they entered the vil_ 
 lage of the tribe; Chingachgook and his be- 
 trothed, in triumph ; their companion honored and 
 admired, but in a sorrow that it required months 
 of activity to remove. 
 
 The war that then had its rise was stirring 
 and bloody. The Delaware chief rose among hie 
 people, until his name was never mentioned with- 
 out eulogiums : while another Uncas, the last of 
 his race, was added to the long line of warriors 
 who bore that distinguished appelation. As for 
 the Deerslayer, under the sobriquet of Hawkeye, 
 he made his fame spread far and near, until the 
 erack of his rifle became as terrible to the ears 
 
 of the Mingoes as the thunders of the Manitou 
 His services were soon required by the officers of 
 the crown, and he especially attached himself, in 
 the field, to one in particular, with whose after- 
 life he had a close and important connection. 
 
 Fifteen years had passed away, ere it was in 
 the power of the Deerslayer to revisit the Glirn- 
 merglass. A peace had intervened, and it was on 
 the eve of another, and still more important war, 
 when he and his constant friend, Chingachgook, 
 were hastening, to the forts to join their allies. 
 A stripling accompanied them, for Hist already 
 slumbered beneath the pines of the Delawares, 
 and the three survivors had now become insepa- 
 rable. They reached the lake just as the sun was 
 setting. Here all was unchanged ; the river still 
 rushed through its bower of trees ; the little rock 
 was wasting away by the slow action of the waves 
 in the course of centuries ; the mountains stood 
 in their native dress, dark, rich, and mysterious ; 
 while the sheet glistened in its solitude, a beauti- 
 ful gem of the forest. 
 
 The following morning the youth discovered 
 one of the canoes drifted on the shore, in a state 
 of decay. A little labor put it in a state for 
 service, and they all embarked, with a desire to 
 examine the place. All the points were passed, 
 and Chingachgook pointed out to his son the 
 spot where the Hurons had first encamped, and 
 the point whence he had succeeded in stealing his 
 bride. Here they even landed ; but all traces of 
 the former visit had disappeared. Next they pro- 
 ceeded to the scene of the battle, and there they 
 found a few of the signs that linger around such 
 localities. Wild beasts had disinterred many of 
 the bodies, and human bones were bleaching in 
 the rains of summer. Uncas regarded all with 
 reverence and pity, though traditions were al- 
 ready rousing his young mind to the ambition and 
 sternness of a warrior. 
 
 From the point, the canoe took its way toward 
 the shoal, where the remains of the castle were 
 still visible, a picturesque ruin. The storms of 
 winter had long since unroofed the house, and 
 decay had eaten into the logs. All the fastenings 
 were untouched, but the seasons rioted in the 
 place, as if in mockery at the attempt to exclude 
 them. The palisades were rotting, as were the 
 piles ; and it was evident that a few more recur 
 rences of winter, a few more gales and tempests, 
 would sweep all into the lake, and blot the build- 
 ing from the face of that magnificent solitude. 
 The graves could not be found. Either the ele- 
 ments had obliterated their traces, or time had 
 caused those who looked for them, to forget their 
 position. 
 
GLIMMERGLASS, AFTER FIFTEEN YEARS. 
 
 239 
 
 The ark was discovered stranded on the east- 
 ern shore, where it had long before been driven, 
 with the prevalent northwest winds. It lay on 
 the sandy extremity of a long, low point, that is 
 situated about two miles from the outlet, and 
 which is itself fast disappearing before the action 
 of the elements. The scow was filled with water, 
 the cabin unroofed, and the logs were decaying. 
 Some of its coarser furniture still remained, and 
 the heart of Deerslayer beat quick, as he found a 
 ribbon of Judith’s fluttering from a log. It re- 
 called all her beauty, and, we may add, all her 
 failings. Although the girl had never touched 
 his heart, the Hawkeye, for so we ought now to 
 call him, still retained a kind and sincere interest 
 in her welfare. He tore away the ribbon, and 
 knotted it to the stock of Killdeer, which had 
 been the gift of the girl herself. 
 
 A few miles farther up the lake another of the 
 canoes was discovered ; and on the point where 
 the party finally landed, were found those which 
 had been left there upon the shore. That in 
 which the present navigation was made, and the 
 one discovered on the eastern shore, had dropped 
 through the decayed floor of the castle, drifted 
 past the falling palisades, and had been thrown 
 as waifs upon the beach. 
 
 From all these signs, it was probable the lake 
 had not been visited since the occurrence of the 
 final scene of our tale. Accident or tradition had 
 rendered it again a spot sacred to Nature; the 
 frequent wars, and the feeble population of the 
 colonies, still confining the settlements within 
 narrow boundaries. Chingachgook and his friend 
 left the spot with melancholy feelings. It had 
 been the region of their First War-Path, and it 
 carried back the minds of both to scenes of tender- 
 ness as well as to hours of triumph. They held 
 their way toward the Mohawk in silence, however, 
 
 to rush into new adventures, as stirring and as 
 remarkable as those which had attended their 
 opening career on this lovely lake. At a later 
 day they returned to the place, where the Indian 
 found a grave. 
 
 Time and circumstance have drawn an im- 
 penetrable mystery around all else connected 
 with the Hutters. They lived, erred, died, and 
 are forgotten. None connected have felt sufficient 
 interest in the disgraced and disgracing, to with- 
 draw the veil ; and a century is about to erase 
 even the recollection of their names. The history 
 of crime is ever revolting, and it is fortunate that 
 few love to dwell on its incidents. The sins of 
 the family have long since been arraigned at the 
 judgment-seat of God, or are registered for the 
 terrible settlement of the last great day. 
 
 The same fate attended Judith. When Hawk- 
 eye reached the garrison on the Mohawk, he in- 
 quired anxiously after that lovely but misguided 
 creature. None knew her — even her person was 
 no longer remembered. Other officers had again 
 and again succeeded the Warleys and Craigs and 
 Grahams ; though an old sergeant of the garrison, 
 who had lately come from England, was enabled 
 to tell our hero that Sir Robert Warley lived on 
 his paternal estates, and that there was a lady of 
 rare beauty in the lodge, who had great influence 
 over him, though she did not bear his name. 
 Whether this was Judith, relapsed into her early 
 failing, or some other victim of the soldier’s, 
 Hawkeye never knew, nor would it be pleasant 
 or profitable to inquire. We live in a world of 
 transgressions and selfishness, and no pictures 
 that represent us otherwise can be true ; though, 
 happily for human nature, gleamings of that pure 
 spirit in whose likeness man has been fashioned, 
 are to be seen, relieving its deformities, and miti- 
 gating, if not excusing its crimes. 
 
 16 
 
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THE 
 
 LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS. 
 
“ More than one savage rushed toward them, thinking to rifle the unprotected sisters 
 of their attire, and bear away their scalps ; t>ut when they found this strange and unmoved 
 ogure riveted to his post, they paused to listen.” 
 
 Last of the Mohicans, p. 88. 
 
 
THE 
 
 LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 A NARRATIVE OF 1757. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. FENIMORE COOPER* 
 
 “ Mislike me not for my complexion, 
 
 The shadowed livery of the burnished sun.’’ 
 
 ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS BY F 0. C. DARLEY. 
 
 1YEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, and 5 BOND STREET. 
 
 1 8 8 5 . 
 
m 
 
 m q ^ f | 
 I 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, toy 
 D. APPLETON & CO., 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 
 JfL • 
 
 . T r d 2 11 T 
 
HTTRODU OTIOJT. 
 
 It is believed that the scene of this tale, and most of the information necessary to 
 understand its allusions, are rendered sufficiently obvious to the reader in the text itself, 
 or in the accompanying notes. Still there is so much obscurity in the Indian traditions, 
 and so much confusion in the Indian names, as to render some explanation useful. 
 
 Few men exhibit greater diversity, or, if we may so express it, greater antithesis of 
 character, than the native warrior of North America. In war, he is daring, boastful, 
 cunning, ruthless, self-denying, and self-devoted ; in peace, just, generous, hospitable, 
 revengeful, superstitious, modest, and commonly chaste. These are qualities, it is true, 
 which do not distinguish all alike ; but they are so far the predominating traits of these 
 remarkable people, as to be characteristic. 
 
 It is generally believed that the Aborigines of the American Continent have an 
 Asiatic origin. There are many physical as well as moral facts which corroborate this 
 opinion, and some few that would seem to weigh against it. 
 
 The color of the Indian, the writer believes, is peculiar to himself ; and while his 
 cheek-bones have a very striking indication of a Tartar origin, his eyes have not. Cli- 
 mate may have had great influence on the former, but it is difficult to see how it can 
 have produced the substantial difference which exists in the latter. The imagery of the 
 Indian, both in his poetry and his oratory, is Oriental — chastened, and perhaps im- 
 proved, by the limited range of his practical knowledge. He draws his metaphors from 
 the clouds, the seasons, the birds, the beasts, and the vegetable world. In this, perhaps, 
 he does no more than any other energetic and imaginative race would do, being com- 
 pelled to set bounds to fancy by experience ; but the North American Indian clothes his 
 ideas in a dress which is different from that of the African, and is Oriental in itself. His 
 language has the richness and sententious fulness of the Chinese. He will express a 
 phrase in a word, and he will qualify the meaning of an entire sentence by a syllable ; he 
 will even convey different significations by the simplest inflections of the voice. 
 
 Philologists have said that there are but two or three languages, properly speaking, 
 among all the numerous tribes which formerly occupied the country that now composes 
 the United States. They ascribe the known difficulty one people have in understanding 
 another to corruptions and dialects. The writer remembers to have been present at an 
 interview between two chiefs of the Great Prairies west of the Mississippi, and when an 
 interpreter was in attendance who spoke both their languages. The warriors appeared 
 to be on the most friendly terms, and seemingly conversed much together ; yet, accord- 
 ing to the account of the interpreter, each was absolutely ignorant of what the other 
 said. They were hostile tribes, brought together by the influence of the American Gov- 
 ernment; and it is worthy of remark that a common policy led them both to adopt the 
 same subject. They mutually exhorted each other to be of use in the event of the 
 chances of war throwing either of the parties into the hands of his enemies. Whatever 
 may be the truth, as respects the root and the genius of the Indian tongues, it is quite 
 certain they are now so distinct in their words as to possess most of the disadvantages 
 of strange languages ; hence much of the embarrassment that has arisen in learning their 
 histories, and most of the uncertainty which exists in their traditions. 
 
4 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Like nations of higher pretensions, the American Indian gives a very different ac- 
 count of his own tribe or race from that which is given by other people. He is much 
 addicted to over-estimating his own perfections, and to undervaluing those of his rival 
 or his enemy ; a trait which may possibly be thought corroborative of the Mosaic ac- 
 count of the creation. 
 
 The "Whites have assisted greatly in rendering the traditions of the Aborigines more 
 obscure by their own manner of corrupting names. Thus, the term used in the title of 
 this book has undergone the changes of Mahicanni, Mohicans, and Mohegans ; the latter 
 being the word commonly used by the Whites. When it is remembered that the Hutch 
 (who first settled Mew York), the English, and the French, all gave appellations to the 
 tribes that dwelt within the country which is the scene of this story, and that the Indi- 
 ans not only gave different names to their enemies, but frequently to themselves, the 
 cause of the confusion will be understood. 
 
 In these pages, Lenni-Lenape, Lenope, Delawares, Wapanachki, and Mohicans, all 
 mean the same people, or tribes of the same stock. The Mengwe, the Maquas, the Min- 
 goes, and the Iroquois, though not all strictly the same, are identified frequently by the 
 speakers, being politically confederated and opposed to those just named. Mingo was a 
 term of peculiar reproaoh, as were Mengwe and Maqua in a less degree. 
 
 The Mohicans were the possessors of the country first occupied by the Europeans in 
 this portion of the continent. They were, consequently, the first dispossessed ; and the 
 seemingly inevitable fate of all these people, who disappear before the advances, or it 
 might be termed the inroads of civilization, as the verdure of their native forests falls 
 before the nipping frost, is represented as having already befallen them. There is suffi- 
 cient historical truth in the picture to justify the use that has been made of it. 
 
 In point of fact, the country which is the scene of the following tale has undergone 
 as little change, since the historical events alluded to had place, as almost any other 
 district of equal extent within the whole limits of the United States. There are fashion- 
 able and well-attended watering-places at and near the spring where Hawk-eye halted 
 to drink, and roads traverse the forests where he and his friends were compelled to jour- 
 ney without even a path. Glenn’s has a large village ; and, while William Henry, and 
 even a fortress of later date, are only to be traced as ruins, there is another village on 
 the shores of the Horican. But, beyond this, the enterprise and energy of a people who 
 have done so much in other places have done little here. The whole of that wilderness, 
 in which the latter incidents of the legend occurred, is nearly a wilderness still, though 
 the red man has entirely deserted this part of the State. Of all the tribes named in these 
 pages, there exist only a few half-civilized beings of the Oneidas, on the reservations of 
 their people in Mew York. The rest have disappeared, either from the regions in which 
 their fathers dwelt, or altogether from the earth. 
 
 There is one point on which we would wish to say a word before closing this preface. 
 Hawk-eye calls the Lac du Saint Sacrement , the “Horican.” As we believe this to be 
 an appropriation of the name that has its origin with ourselves, the time has arrived, 
 perhaps, when the fact should be frankly admitted. While writing this book, fully a 
 quarter of a century since, it occurred to us that the French name of this lake was too 
 complicated, the American too commonplace, and the Indian too unpronounceable, for 
 either to be used familiarly in a work of fiction. Looking over an ancient map, it was 
 ascertained that a tribe of Indians, called “Les Horicans” by the French, existed in the 
 neighborhood of this beautiful sheet of water. As every word uttered by Matty Bump- 
 po was not to be received as rigid truth, we took the liberty of putting the “ Horican ” 
 into his mouth, as the substitute for “Lake George.” The name has appeared to find 
 favor, and, all things considered, it may possibly be quite as well to let it stand, instead 
 of going back to the house of Hanover for the appellation of our finest sheet of water. 
 We relieve our conscience by the confession, at all events, leaving it to exercise its au- 
 thority as it may see fit. 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 “Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared : 
 
 The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold : 
 
 Say, is my kingdom lost? ” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars 
 of North America, that the toils and dangers of 
 the wilderness were to be encountered before the 
 adverse hosts could meet. A wide and apparent- 
 ly an impervious boundary of forests severed the 
 possessions of the hostile provinces of France and 
 England. The hardy colonist, and the trained 
 European who fought at his side, frequently ex- 
 pended months in straggling against the rapids 
 of the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes 
 of the mountains, in quest of an opportunity to 
 exhibit their courage in a more martial conflict. 
 But, emulating the patience and self-denial of the 
 practised native warriors, they learned to over- 
 come every difficulty ; and it would seem that, in 
 time, there was no recess of the woods so dark, 
 nor any secret place so lovely, that it might claim 
 exemption from the inroads of those who had 
 pledged their blood to satiate their vengeance, or 
 to uphold the cold and selfish policy of the dis- 
 tant monarchs of Europe. 
 
 Perhaps no district throughout the wide ex- 
 tent of the intermediate frontiers can furnish a 
 livelier picture of the cruelty and fierceness of 
 the savage warfare of those periods than the 
 country which lies between the head-waters of 
 the Hudson and the adjacent lakes. 
 
 The facilities which Nature had there offered 
 to the march of the combatants were too obvious 
 to be neglected. The lengthened sheet of the 
 Champlain stretched from the frontiers of Canada, 
 deep within the borders of the neighboring prov- 
 ince of New York, forming a natural passage 
 across half the distance that the French were 
 
 compelled to master in order to strike their ene- 
 mies. Near its southern termination, it received 
 the contributions of another lake, whose waters 
 were so limpid as to have been exclusively select- 
 ed by the Jesuit missionaries to perform the typi- 
 cal purification of baptism, and to obtain for it 
 the title of lake “ du Saint Sacrement.” The less 
 zealous English thought they conferred a suf- 
 ficient honor on its unsullied fountains, when they 
 bestowed the name of their reigning prince, the 
 second of the house of Hanover. The two united 
 to rob the untutored possessors of its wooded 
 scenery of their native right to perpetuate its 
 original appellation of “ Horican.”* 
 
 Winding its way among countless islands, and 
 embedded in mountains, the “ holy lake ” extend- 
 ed a dozen leagues still farther to the south. 
 With the high plain that there interposed itself 
 to the further passage of the water, commenced a 
 portage of as many miles, which conducted the 
 adventurer to the banks of the Hudson, at a 
 point where, with the usual obstructions of the 
 rapids, or rifts, as they were then termed in the 
 language of the country, the river became navi- 
 gable to the tide. 
 
 While, in the pursuit of their daring plans of 
 annoyance, the restless enterprise of the French 
 even attempted the distant and difficult gorges of 
 the Alleghany, it may easily be imagined that 
 their proverbial acuteness would not overlook the 
 natural advantages of the district we have just 
 described. It became, emphatically, the bloody 
 
 * As each nation of the Indians had either its language 
 or its dialect, they usually gave different names to the same 
 places, though nearly all of their appellations were descrip- 
 tive of the object. Thus, a literal translation of the name 
 of this beautiful sheet of water, used by the tribe that 
 dwelt on its banks, would be “The Tail of the Lake.” 
 Lake George, as it is vulgarly, and now indeed legally, called, 
 forms a sort of tail to Lake Champlain, when viewed on the 
 map. Hence the name. 
 
6 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 arena, in which most of the battles for the mas- 
 tery of the colonies were contested. Forts were 
 erected at the different points that commanded 
 the facilities of the route, and were taken and re- 
 taken, rased and rebuilt, as victory alighted on 
 the hostile banners. While the husbandman 
 shrank back from the dangerous passes, within 
 the safer boundaries of the more ancient settle- 
 ments, armies larger than those that had often 
 disposed of the sceptres of the mother-countries, 
 were seen to bury themselves in these forests, 
 whence they rarely returned but in skeleton bands, 
 that were haggard with care, or dejected by de- 
 feat. Though the arts of peace were unknown to 
 this fatal region, its forests were alive with men ; 
 its shades and glens rang with the sounds of mar- 
 tial music, and the echoes of its mountains threw 
 back the laugh, or repeated the wanton cry, of 
 many a gallant and reckless youth, as he hurried 
 by them, in the noontide of his spirits, to slumber 
 in a long night of forgetfulness. 
 
 It was in this scene of strife and bloodshed 
 that the incidents we shall attempt to relate oc- 
 curred, during the third year of the war which 
 England and France last waged for the possession 
 of a country that neither was destined to retain. 
 
 The imbecility of her military leaders abroad, 
 and the fatal want of energy in her councils at 
 home, had lowered the character of Great Britain 
 from the proud elevation on which it had been 
 placed, by the talents and enterprise of her former 
 warriors and statesmen. No longer dreaded by 
 her enemies, her servants were fast losing the 
 confidence of self-respect. In this mortifying 
 abasement the colonists, though innocent of her 
 imbecility, and too humble to be the agents of 
 her blunders, were but the natural participators. 
 They had recently seen a chosen army from that 
 country, which, reverencing as a mother, they 
 had blindly believed invincible — an army led by 
 a chief who had been selected from a crowd of 
 trained warriors, for his rare military endowments, 
 disgracefully routed by a handful of French and 
 Indians, and only saved from annihilation by the 
 coolness and spirit of a Virginian boy, whose 
 riper fame has since diffused itself, with the steady 
 influence of moral truth, to the uttermost confines 
 of Christendom.* A wide frontier had been laid 
 
 ♦Washington: who, after uselessly admonishing the 
 European general of the danger into which he was heed- 
 lessly running, saved the remnants of the British army, on ■ 
 this occasion, by his decision and courage. The reputation 
 earned by Washington in this battle was the principal cause 
 of his being selected to command the American armies at a 
 later day. It is a circumstance worthy of observation that, 
 while all America rang with his well-merited reputation, his 
 lame does not occur in any European account of the bat- 
 
 naked by this unexpected disaster, and more sub- 
 stantial evils were preceded by a thousand fanci- 
 ful and imaginary dangers. The alarmed colo- 
 nists believed that the yells of the savages mingled 
 with every fitful gust of wind that issued from 
 the interminable forests of the West. The ter- 
 rific character of their merciless enemies increased 
 immeasurably the natural horrors of warfare. 
 Numberless recent massacres were still vivid in 
 their recollections ; nor was there any car in the 
 provinces so deaf as not to have drunk in with 
 avidity the narrative of some fearful tale of mid- 
 night murder, in which the natives of the forests 
 were the principal and barbarous actors. As the 
 credulous and excited traveller related the haz- 
 ardous chances of the wilderness, the blood of 
 the timid curdled with terror, and mothers cast 
 anxious glances even at those children which 
 slumbered within the security of the largest 
 towns. In short, the magnifying influence of 
 fear began to set at naught the calculations of 
 reason, and to render those who should have re- 
 membered their manhood, the slaves of the basest 
 of passions. Even the most confident and the 
 stoutest hearts began to think the issue of the 
 contest was becoming doubtful.; and that abject 
 class was hourly increasing in numbers, who 
 thought they foresaw all the possessions of the 
 English crown in America subdued by their 
 Christian foes, or laid waste by the inroads of 
 their relentless allies. 
 
 When, therefore, intelligence was received at 
 the fort, which covered the southern termination 
 of the portage between the Hudson and the lakes, 
 that Montcalm had been seen moving up the 
 Champlain, with an army “ numerous as the 
 leaves on the trees,” its truth was admitted with 
 more of the craven reluctance of fear than with 
 the stern joy that a warrior should feel, in finding 
 an enemy within reach of his blow. The news 
 had been brought, toward the decline of a day in 
 midsummer, by an Indian runner, who also bore 
 an urgent request from Munro, the commander 
 of a work on the shore of the “ holy lake,” for a 
 speedy and powerful reenforcement. It has al- 
 ready been mentioned that the distance between 
 these two posts was less than five leagues. The 
 rude path, which originally formed their line of 
 communication, had been widened for the pas- 
 sage of wagons ; so that the distance which had 
 been travelled by the son of the forest in two 
 hours, might easily be effected by a detachment 
 of troops, with their necessary baggage, between 
 
 tie ; at least, the author has searched for it without success 
 In this manner does the mother-country absorb even tlx 
 fame, under that system of rule. 
 
ADVANCE OF MONTCALM. 
 
 7 
 
 the rising and setting of a summer sun. The loy- 
 al servants of the British crown had given to one 
 of these , forest fastnesses the name of William 
 Henry, and to the other that of Fort Edward ; 
 calling each after a favorite prince of the reigning 
 family. The veteran Scotchman just named held 
 the first, with a regiment of regulars and a few 
 orovincials ; a force really by far too small to 
 make head against the formidable power that 
 Montcalm was leading to the foot of his earthen 
 mounds. At the latter, however, lay General 
 Webb, who commanded the armies of the king 
 in the northern provinces, with a body of more 
 than five thousand men. By uniting the several 
 detachments of his command, this officer might 
 have arrayed nearly double that number of com- 
 batants against the enterprising Frenchman, who 
 had ventured so far from his reenforcements, with 
 an army but little superior in numbers. 
 
 But, under the influence of their degraded for- 
 tunes, both officers and men appeared better dis- 
 posed to await the approach of their formidable 
 antagonists within their works, than to resist the 
 progress of their march, by emulating the success- 
 ful exampile of the French at Fort du Quesne, and 
 striking a blow on their advance. 
 
 After the first surprise of the intelligence had 
 a little abated, a rumor was spread through the 
 intrenched camp, which stretched along the mar- 
 gin of the Hudson, forming a chain of outworks 
 to the body of the fort itself, that a chosen de- 
 tachment of fifteen hundred men was to depart, 
 with the dawn, for William Henry, the post at 
 the northern extremity of the portage. That 
 which at first was only rumor, soon became cer- 
 tainty, as orders passed from the quarters of the 
 commander-in-chief to the several corps he had 
 selected for this service, to prepare for their 
 speedy departure. All doubt as to the intention 
 of Webb now vanished, and an hour or two of 
 hurried footsteps and anxious faces succeeded. 
 The novice in the military art flew from point to 
 point, retarding his own preparations by the ex- 
 cess of his violent and somewhat distempered 
 zeal ; while the more practised veteran made his 
 arrangements with a deliberation that scorned 
 every appearance of haste ; though his sober 
 lineaments and anxious eye sufficiently betrayed 
 that he had no very strong professional relish for 
 the as yet untried and dreaded warfare of the 
 wilderness. At length the sun set in a flood of 
 glory behind the distant western hills, and, as 
 darkness drew its Veil around the secluded spot, 
 the sounds of preparation diminished; the last 
 *ight finally disappeared from the log-cabin of 
 tome officer ; the trees cast their deeper shadows 
 
 over the mounds and the rippling stream, and a 
 silence soon pervaded the camp, as deep as that 
 which reigned in the vast forest by which it was 
 environed. 
 
 According to the orders of the preceding 
 night, the heavy sleep of the army was broken 
 by the rolling of the warning drums, whose rat- 
 tling echoes were heard issuing, "on the damp 
 morning air, out of every vista of the woods, just 
 as day began to draw the shaggy outlines of some 
 tall pines of the vicinity, on the opening bright- 
 ness of a soft and cloudless eastern sky. In an 
 instant the whole camp was in motion ; the mean- 
 est soldier arousing from his lair to witness the 
 departure of hi3 comrades, and to share in the 
 excitement and incidents of the hour. The sim- 
 ple array of the chosen band was soon completed. 
 While the regular and trained hirelings of the 
 king marched with haughtiness to the right of 
 the line, the less pretending colonists took their 
 humbler position on its left, with a docility that 
 long practice had rendered easy. The scouts de- 
 parted ; strong guards preceded and followed 
 the lumbering vehicles that bore the baggage ; 
 and, before the gray light of the morning was 
 mellowed by the rays of the sun, the main body 
 of the combatants wheeled into column, and left 
 the encampment with a show of high military 
 bearing, that served to drown the slumbering ap- 
 prehensions of many a novice, who was now about 
 to make his first essay in arm3. While in view 
 of their admiring comrades, the same proud front 
 and ordered array was observed, until the notes 
 of their fifes growing fainter in distance, the for- 
 est at length appeared to swallow up the living 
 mass which had slowly entered its bosom. 
 
 The deepest sounds of the retiring and invisi- 
 ble column had ceased to be borne on the breeze 
 to the listeners, and the latest straggler had al- 
 ready disappeared in pursuit; but there still re- 
 mained the signs of another departure, before a 
 log-cabin of unusual size and accommodations, in 
 front of which those sentinels paced their rounds, 
 who were known to guard the person of the Eng- 
 lish general. At this spot were gathered some 
 half-dozen horses, caparisoned in a manner which 
 showed that two at least were destined to bear 
 the persons of females, of a rank that it was not 
 usual to meet so far in the wilds of the country. 
 A third wore the trappings and arms of an officer 
 of the staff; while the rest, from the plainness 
 of the housings, and the travelling-mails with 
 which they were encumbered, were evidently fit- 
 ted for the reception of as many menials, who 
 were, seemingly, already awaiting the pleasure 
 of those they served. At a respectful distance 
 
s 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 from this unusual show were gathered divers 
 groups of curious idlers ; some admiring the blood 
 and bone of the high-mettled military charger, 
 and others gazing at the preparations with the 
 dull wonder of vulgar curiosity. There was one 
 man, however, who, by his countenance and ac- 
 tions, formed a marked exception to those who 
 composed the latter class of spectators, being 
 neither idle, nor seemingly very ignorant. 
 
 The person of this individual was to the last 
 degree ungainly, without being in any particular 
 manner deformed. He had all the bones and 
 joints of other men, without any of their propor- 
 tions. Erect, his stature surpassed that of his 
 fellows; though, seated, he appeared reduced 
 within the ordinary limits of the race. The 
 same contrariety in his members seemed to exist 
 throughout the whole man. His head was large ; 
 his shoulders narrow ; his arms long and dan- 
 gling ; while his hands were small, if not delicate. 
 His legs and thighs were thin, nearly to emacia- 
 tion, but of extraordinary length ; and his knees 
 would have been considered tremendous, had they 
 not been outdone by the broader foundations on 
 which this false superstructure of blended human 
 orders was so profanely reared. The ill-assorted 
 and injudicious attire of the individual only served 
 to render his awkwardness more conspicuous. A 
 sky-blue coat, with short and broad skirts and low 
 cape, exposed a long, thin neck, and longer and 
 thinner legs, to the worst animadversions of the 
 evil-disposed. His nether garment was of yellow 
 nankeen, closely fitted to the shape, and tied at 
 his bunches of knees by large knots of white rib- 
 bon, a good deal sullied by use. Clouded cotton 
 stockings, and shoes, on one of the latter of which 
 was a plated spur, completed the costume of the 
 lower extremity of this figure, no curve or angle 
 of which was concealed, but, on the other hand, 
 studiously exhibited, through the vanity or sim- 
 plicity of its owner. From beneath the flap of 
 an enormous pocket of a soiled vest of embossed 
 silk, heavily ornamented with tarnished silver 
 lace, projected an instrument, which, from being 
 seen in such martial company, might have been 
 easily mistaken for some mischievous and un- 
 known implement of war. Small as it was, this 
 uncommon engine had excited the curiosity of 
 most of the Europeans in the camp, though sev- 
 eral of the provincials were seen to handle it, not 
 only without fear, but with the utmost familiar- 
 ity. A large, civil cocked hat, like those worn 
 by clergymen within the last thirty years, sur- 
 mounted the whole, furnishing dignity to a good- 
 natured and somewhat vacant countenance, that 
 apparently needed such artificial aid to support 
 
 the gravity of some high and extraordinary 
 trust. 
 
 While the common herd stood aloof, in defer- 
 ence to the quarters of Webb, the figure we have 
 described stalked into the centre of the domes- 
 tics, freely expressing his censures or commenda. 
 tions on the merits of the horses, as by chance 
 they displeased or satisfied his judgment. 
 
 “ This beast, I rather conclude, friend, is not 
 of home-raising, but is from foreign lands, or per- 
 haps from the little island itself, over the blue 
 water ? ” he said, in a voice remarkable for the 
 softness and sweetness of its tones, as was his 
 person for its rare proportions : “ I may speak of 
 these things, and be no braggart ; for I have been 
 down at both havens ; that which is situate at 
 the mouth of Thames, and is named after the 
 capital of Old England, and that which is called 
 ‘ Haven,’ with the addition of the word ‘ New ; ’ 
 and have seen the snows and brigantines collect- 
 ing their droves, like the gathering to the ark, 
 being outward bound to the Island of Jamaica, 
 for the purpose of barter and traffic in four-footed 
 animals ; but never before have I beheld a beast 
 which verified the true Scripture war-horse like 
 this: ‘He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in 
 his strength : he goeth on to meet the armed 
 men. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha ; and 
 he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the 
 captains, and the shouting.’ — It would seem that 
 the stock of the horse of Israel has descended to 
 our own time ; would it not, friend ? ” 
 
 Receiving no reply to this extraordinary ap- 
 peal, which, in truth, as it was delivered with the 
 vigor of full and sonorous tones, merited some 
 sort of notice, he who had thus sung forth the 
 language of the holy book turned to the silent 
 figure to whom he had unwittingly addressed him- 
 self, and found a new and more powerful subject 
 of admiration in the object that encountered his 
 gaze. His eyes fell on the still, upright, and rigid 
 form of the “ Indian runner,” who had borne to 
 the camp the unwelcome tidings of the preceding 
 evening. Although in a state of perfect repose, 
 and apparently disregarding, with characteristic 
 stoicism, the excitement and bustle around him, 
 there was a sullen fierceness mingled with the 
 quiet of the savage, that was likely to arrest the 
 attention of much more experienced eyes than 
 those which now scanned him, in unconcealed 
 amazement. The native bore both the tomahawk 
 and knife of his tribe ; and yet his appearance 
 was not altogether that of a warrior. On the 
 contrary, there was an air of neglect about his 
 person, like that which might have proceeded 
 from great and recent exertion, which he had 
 
AN INDIAN RUNNER. 
 
 9 
 
 not yet found leisure to repair. The colors of 
 the war-paint had blended in dark confusion 
 about his fierce countenance, and rendered his 
 swarthy lineaments still more savage and repul- 
 sive, than if art had attempted an effect, which 
 had been thus produced by chance. His eye, 
 alone, which glistened like a fiery star amid low- 
 ering clouds, was to be seen in its state of native 
 wildness. For a single instant, his searching and 
 yet wary glance met the wondering look of the 
 other, and then changing its direction, partly in 
 cunning, and partly in disdain, it remained fixed, 
 as if penetrating the distant air. 
 
 It is impossible to say what unlooked-for re- 
 mark this short and silent communication, be- 
 tween two such singular men, might have elicited 
 from the white man, had not his active curiosity 
 been again drawn to other objects. A general 
 movement among the domestics, and a low sound 
 of gentle voices, announced the approach of those 
 whose presence alone was wanted to enable the 
 cavalcade to move. The simple admirer of the 
 war-horse instantly fell back to a low, gaunt, 
 switch-tailed mare, that was unconsciously glean- 
 ing the faded herbage of the camp nigh by; 
 where, leaning with one elbow on the blanket 
 that concealed an apology for a saddle, he be- 
 came a spectator of the departure, while a foal 
 was quietly making its morning repast, on the 
 opposite side of the same animal. 
 
 A young man, in the dress of an officer, con- 
 ducted to their steeds two females, who, as it 
 was apparent by their dresses, were prepared to 
 encounter the fatigues of a journey in the woods. 
 One, and she was the most juvenile in her ap- 
 pearance, though both were young, permitted 
 glimpses of her dazzling complexion, fair golden 
 hair, and bright-blue eyes, to be caught, as she 
 artlessly suffered the morning air to blow aside 
 the green veil which descended low from her 
 beaver. The flush which still lingered above the 
 pines in the western sky was not more bright nor 
 delicate than the bloom on her cheek ; nor was 
 the opening day more cheering than the animated 
 smile which she bestowed on the youth, as he as- 
 sisted her into the saddle. The other, who ap- 
 peared to share equally in the attentions of the 
 young officer, concealed her charms from the 
 gaze of the soldiery with a care that seemed bet- 
 ter filled to the experience of four or five ad- 
 ditional years. It could be seen, however, that 
 her person, though moulded with the same ex- 
 quisite proportions, of which none of the graces 
 were lost by the travelling-dress she wore, was 
 rather fuller and more mature than that of her 
 companion. 
 
 No sooner were these females seated, than 
 their attendant sprang lightly into the saddle of 
 the war-horse, when the whole three bowed to 
 W ebb, who, in courtesy, awaited their parting on 
 the threshold of his cabin, and, turning their 
 horses’ heads, they proceeded at a slow amble, 
 followed by their train, toward the northern en- 
 trance of the encampment. As they traversed 
 that short distance, not a voice was heard among 
 them ; but a slight exclamation proceeded from 
 the younger of the females, as the Indian runner 
 glided by her, unexpectedly, and led the way 
 along the military road in her front. Though 
 this sudden and startling movement of the Indian 
 produced no sound from the other, in the sur- 
 prise, her veil also was allowed to open its folds, 
 and betrayed an indescribable look of pity, admi- 
 ration, and horror, as her dark eye followed the 
 easy motions of the savage. The tresses of this 
 lady were shining and black, like the plumage of 
 the raven. Her complexion was not brown, but 
 it rather appeared charged with the color of the 
 rich blood that seemed ready to burst its bounds. 
 And yet there was neither coarseness nor want 
 of shadowing in a countenance that was exqui- 
 sitely regular and dignified, and surpassingly beau- 
 tiful. She smiled, as if in pity at her own mo- 
 mentary forgetfulness, discovering by the act a 
 row of teeth that would have shamed the purest 
 ivory; when, replacing the veil, she bowed her 
 face, and rode in silence, like one whose thoughts 
 were abstracted from the scene around her. 
 
 CHAPTER n. 
 
 “ Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola 1 ” 
 
 Shakespeaub. 
 
 While one of the lovely beings we have so 
 cursorily presented to the reader was thus lost in 
 thought, the other quickly recovered from the 
 alarm which induced the exclamation, and, laugh- 
 ing at her own weakness, she inquired of the 
 youth who rode by her side : 
 
 “Are such spectres frequent in the woods, 
 Heyward ; or is this sight an especial entertain- 
 ment ordered on our behalf ? If the latter, grati- 
 tude must close our mouths ; but if the former, 
 both Cora and I shall have need to draw largely 
 on that stock of hereditary courage which we 
 boast, even before we are made to encounter the 
 redoubtable Montcalm.” 
 
 “ Yon Indian is a ‘ runner ’ of the army ; and, 
 after the fashion of his people, he may be ac 
 
10 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 counted a hero,” returned the officer. “ He has 
 volunteered to guide us to the lake, by a path but 
 little known, sooner than if we followed the tardy 
 movements of the column ; and, by consequence, 
 more agreeably.” 
 
 “ I like him not,” said the lady, shuddering, 
 partly in assumed, yet more in real terror. “You 
 know him, Duncan, or you would not trust your- 
 self so freely to his keeping ? ” 
 
 “Say, rather, Alice, that I would not trust 
 you. I do know him, or he would not have my 
 confidence, and least of all at this moment. He 
 is said to be a Canadian too ; and yet he served 
 with our friends the Mohawks, who, as you know, 
 are one of the six allied nations.* He was brought 
 among us, as I have heard, by some strange acci- 
 dent in which your .father was interested, and in 
 which the savage was rigidly dealt by — but I for- 
 get the idle tale ; it is enough that he is now our 
 friend.” 
 
 “ If he has been my father’s enemy, I like him 
 still less ! ” exclaimed the now really anxious girl. 
 “Will you not speak to him, Major Heyward, 
 that I may hear his tones? Foolish though it 
 may be, you have often heard me avow my faith 
 in the tones of the human voice ! ” 
 
 “ It would be in vain ; and answered, most 
 probably, by an ejaculation. Though he may 
 understand it, he affects, like most of his people, 
 to be ignorant of the English ; and least of all 
 will he condescend to speak it now, that war 
 demands the utmost exercise of his dignity. But 
 he stops ; the private path by which we are to 
 journey is, doubtless, at hand.” 
 
 The conjecture of Major Heyward was true. 
 When they reached the spot where the Indian 
 stood, pointing into the thicket that fringed the 
 military road, a narrow and blind path, which 
 might, with some little inconvenience, receive one 
 person at a time, became visible. 
 
 “Here, then, lies our way,” said the young 
 
 * There existed for a long time a confederation among 
 the Indian tribes which occupied the northwestern part of 
 the colony of New York, which was at first known as the 
 “ Five Nations.” At a later day it admitted another tribe, 
 when the appellation was changed to that of the “ Six 
 Nations.” The original confederation consisted of the Mo- 
 hawks, the Oneidas, the Senecas, the Cayugas, and the Onon- 
 dagoes. The sixth tribe was the Tuscaroras. There are 
 remnants of all these people still living on lands secured to 
 them by the State ; but they are daily disappearing, either 
 by deaths or by removals to scenes more congenial to their 
 habits. In a short time there will be no remains of these 
 extraordinary people, in those regions in which they dwelt for 
 centuries, but their names. The State of New York has 
 counties named after all of them but the Mohawks and the 
 Tuscaroras. The second river of that State is called the 
 Mohawk. 
 
 man, in a low voice. “ Manifest no distrust, or 
 you may invite the danger you appear to appre- 
 hend.” 
 
 “ Cora, what think you ? ’’ asked the reluctant 
 fair one. “ If we journey with the troops, though 
 we may find their presence irksome, shall we not 
 feel better assurance of our safety ? ” 
 
 “ Being little accustomed to the practices of 
 the savages, Alice, you mistake the place of real 
 danger,” said Heyward. “If enemies have 
 reached the portage at all, a thing by no means 
 probable, as our scouts are abroad, they will 
 surely be found skirting the column, where scalps 
 abound the most. The route of the detachment 
 is known, while ours, having been determined 
 within the hour, must still be secret.” 
 
 “Should we distrust the man because his 
 manners are not our manners, and that his skin 
 is dark ! ” coldly answered Cora. 
 
 Alice hesitated no longer ; but giving her Nar- 
 raganset * a smart cut of the whip, she was the 
 first to dash aside the slight branches of the 
 bushes, and to follow the runner along the dark 
 and tangled pathway. The young man regarded 
 the last speaker in open admiration, and even 
 permitted her fairer, though certainly not more 
 beautiful, companion to proceed unattended, while 
 he sedulously opened the way himself for the pas- 
 sage of her who had been called Cora. It would 
 seem that the domestics had been previously in- 
 structed ; for, instead of penetrating the thicket, 
 they followed the route of the column ; a measure 
 which Heyward stated had been dictated by the 
 sagacity of their guide, in order to diminish the 
 marks of their trail, if, haply, the Canadian sav- 
 ages should be lurking so far in advance of their 
 army. For many minutes the intricacy of the 
 route admitted of no further dialogue; after 
 which they emerged from the broad border of 
 underbrush which grew along the line of the high- 
 way, and entered under the high but dark arches 
 of the forest. Here their progress was less inter- 
 rupted ; and the instant the guide perceived that 
 the females could command their steeds, he moved 
 
 * In the State of Khode Island there is a bay called Nar- 
 raganset, so named after a powerful tribe of Indians, which 
 formerly dwelt on its banks. Accident, or one of those un- 
 accountable freaks which Nature sometimes plays in the 
 animal world, gave rise to a breed of horses which were 
 once well known in America by the name of the Narragan- 
 sets. They were small, commonly of the color called sorrel 
 in America, and distinguished by their habit of pacing. 
 Horses of this race were, and are still, in much request a# 
 saddle-horses, on account of their hardiness and the ease of 
 their movements. As they were also sure of foot, the Nar- 
 ragansets were greatly sought for by females who were 
 obliged to travel over the roots and holes in the “ new coun- 
 tries.” 
 
ALICE AND CORA’S ESCORT. 
 
 11 
 
 on, at a pace between a trot and a walk, and at 
 9 rate which kept the sure-footed and peculiar 
 animals they rode, at a fast yet easy amble. 
 The youth had turned to speak to the dark- 
 eyed Cora, when the distant sounds of horses’ 
 hoofs, clattering over the roots of the broken 
 way in his rear, caused him to check his charger ; 
 and, as his companions drew their reins at the 
 same instant, the whole party came to a halt, in 
 order to obtain an explanation of the unlooked- 
 for interruption. 
 
 In a few moments a colt was seen gliding, like 
 a fallow deer, among the straight trunks of the 
 pines ; and, in another instant, the person of the 
 ungainly man described in the preceding chap- 
 ter, came into view, with as much rapidity as he 
 could excite his meagre beast to endure without 
 coming to an open rupture. Until now this per- 
 sonage had escaped the observation of the trav- 
 ellers. If he possessed the power to arrest any 
 wandering eye when exhibiting the glories of his 
 altitude on foot, his equestrian graces were stiH 
 more likely to attract attention. Notwithstand- 
 ing a constant application of his one-armed heel 
 to the flanks of the mare, the most confirmed 
 gait that he could establish was a Canterbury 
 gallop with the hind-legs, in which those more 
 forward assisted for doubtful moments, though 
 generally content to maintain a loping trot. Per- 
 haps the rapidity of the changes from one of 
 these paces to the other created an optical il- 
 lusion, which might thus magnify the powers of 
 the beast ; for it is \certain that Heyward, who 
 possessed a true eye for the merits of a horse, 
 was unable, with his utmost ingenuity, to decide 
 by what sort of movement his pursuer worked 
 his sinuous way on his footsteps with such perse- 
 vering hardihood. 
 
 The industry and movements of the rider 
 were not less remarkable than those of the rid- 
 den. At each change in the evolutions of the 
 latter, the former raised his tall person in the 
 stirrups; producing, in this manner, by the un- 
 due elongation of his legs, such sudden growths 
 and diminishings of the stature, as baffled every 
 conjecture that might be made as to his dimen- 
 sions. If to this be added the fact that, in con- 
 sequence of the ex parte application of the spur, 
 one side of the mare appeared to journey faster 
 than the other ; and that the aggrieved flank was 
 resolutely indicated by unremitted flourishes of a 
 bushy tail, we finish the picture of both horse 
 and man. 
 
 The frown which had gathered around the 
 handsome, open, and manly brow of Heyward, 
 gradually relaxed, and his lips curled into a slight 
 
 smile, as he regarded the stranger. Alice made 
 no very powerful effort to control her merri- 
 ment ; and even the dark, thoughtful eye of Cora 
 lighted with a humor that, it would seem, tha 
 habit, rather than the nature, of its mistress ro 
 pressed. 
 
 “ Seek you any here ? ” demanded Heyward, 
 when the other had arrived sufficiently nigh to 
 abate his speed ; “ I trust you are no messenger 
 of evil tidings ? ” 
 
 “ Even so,” replied the stranger, making dili- 
 gent use of his triangular castor, to produce a 
 circulation in the close air of the woods, and 
 leaving his hearers in doubt to which of the young 
 man’s questions he responded ; when, however, 
 he had cooled his face, and recovered his breath, 
 he continued : “ I hear you are riding to William 
 Henry ; as I am journeying thitherward myself, I 
 concluded good company would seem consistent 
 to the wishes of both parties.” 
 
 “ You appear to possess the privilege of a 
 casting vote,” returned Heyward ; “we are three, 
 while you have consulted no one but yourself.” 
 
 “ Even so. The first point to be obtained is 
 to know one’s own mind. Once sure of that, and 
 where women are concerned it is not easy, the 
 next is, to act up to the decision. I have en- 
 deavored to do both, and here I am.” 
 
 “ If you journey to the lake, you have mis- 
 taken your route,” said Heyward, haughtily ; 
 “ the highway thither is at least half a mile be- 
 hind you.” 
 
 “Even so,” returned the stranger, nothing 
 daunted by this cold reception ; “ I have tarried 
 at ‘ Edward ’ a week, and I should be dumb not to 
 have inquired the road I was to journey ; and if 
 dumb, there would be an end to my calling.” 
 After simpering in a small way, like one whose 
 modesty prohibited a more open expression of 
 his admiration of a witticism that was perfectly 
 unintelligible to his hearers, he continued : “ It is 
 not prudent for any one of my profession to be 
 too familiar with those he has to instruct ; for 
 which reason I follow not the line of the army : 
 besides which, I conclude that a gentleman of 
 your character has the best judgment in matters 
 of wayfaring ; I have therefore decided to join 
 company, in order that the ride may be made 
 agreeable, and partake of social communion.” 
 
 “ A most arbitrary, if not a hasty decision ! ” 
 exclaimed Heyward, undecided whether to give 
 vent to his growing anger, or to laugh in the 
 other’s face. “But you speak of instruction, 
 and of a profession ; are you an adjunct to the 
 provincial corps, as a master of the noble science 
 of defence and offence ; or, perhaps, you are one 
 
12 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 who draws lines and angles, under the pretence 
 of expounding the mathematics ? ” 
 
 The stranger regarded his interrogator a mo- 
 ment, in wonder; and then, losing every mark of 
 self-satisfaction in an expression of solemn hu- 
 mility, he answered : 
 
 “ Of offence, I hope there is none, to either 
 party : of defence, I make none — by God’s good 
 mercy, having committed no palpable sin since 
 last entreating His pardoning grace. I under- 
 stand not your allusions about lines and angles ; 
 and I leave expounding to those who have been 
 called and set apart for that holy office. I lay 
 claim to no higher gift than a small insight into 
 the glorious art of petitioning and thanksgiving, 
 as practised in psalmody.” 
 
 “ The man is, most manifestly, a disciple of 
 Apollo,” cried the amused Alice, “ and I take 
 him under my own especial protection. Nay, 
 throw aside that frown, Heyward, and, in pity to 
 my longing ears, suffer him to journey in our 
 train. Besides,” she added, in a low and hurried 
 voice, casting a glance at the distant Cora, who 
 slowly followed the footsteps of their silent but 
 sullen guide, “ it may be a friend added to our 
 strength, in time of need.” 
 
 “ Think you, Alice, that I would trust those I 
 love by this secret path, did I imagine such need 
 could happen ? ” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, I think not of it now ; but this 
 strange man amuses me ; and if he ‘ hath music 
 in his soul,’ let us not churlishly reject his com- 
 pany.” She pointed persuasively along the path 
 with her riding-whip, while their eyes met in a 
 look which the young man lingered a moment to 
 prolong ; then yielding to her gentle influence, he 
 clapped his spurs into his charger, and in a few 
 bounds was again at the side of Cora. 
 
 “ I am glad to encounter thee, friend,” con- 
 tinued tne maiden, waving her hand to the 
 stranger to proceed, as she urged her Narragan- 
 set to renew its amble. “ Partial relatives have 
 almost persuaded me that I am not entirely 
 worthless in a duet myself ; and we may enliven 
 our wayfaring by indulging in our favorite pur- 
 suit. It might be of signal advantage to one, 
 ignorant as I, to hear the opinions and experience 
 of a master in the art.” 
 
 “ It is refreshing both to the spirits and to the 
 body to indulge in psalmody, in befitting sea- 
 sons,” returned the master of song, unhesitatingly 
 complying with her intimation to follow ; “ and 
 nothing would relieve the mind more than such a 
 consoling communion. But four parts are alto- 
 gether necessary to the perfection of melody. 
 You have all the manifestations of a soft and rich 
 
 treble ; I can, by especial aid, carry a full tenor 
 to the highest letter ; but we lack counter and 
 bass ! Yon officer of the king, who hesitated to 
 admit me to his company, might fill the latter, if 
 one may judge from the intonations of his voice 
 in common dialogue.” 
 
 “Judge not too rashly from hasty and de- 
 ceptive appearances,” said the lady, smiling; 
 “ though Major Heyward can assume such deep 
 notes on occasion, believe me, his natural tones 
 are better fitted for a mellow tenor than the bass 
 you heard.” 
 
 “Is he, then, much practised in the art of 
 psalmody ? ” demanded her simple companion. 
 
 Alice felt disposed to laugh, though she suc- 
 ceeded in suppressing her merriment, ere she an- 
 swered : 
 
 “ I apprehend that he is rather addicted to 
 profane song. The chances of a soldier’s life are 
 but little fitted for the encouragement of more 
 sober inclinations.” 
 
 “ Man’s voice is given to him, like his other 
 talents, to be used, and not to be abused. None 
 can say they have ever known me neglect my 
 gifts ! I am thankful that, though my boyhood 
 may be said to have been set apart, like the 
 youth of the royal David, for the purposes of 
 music, no syllable of rude verse has ever pro- 
 faned my lips.” 
 
 “ You have, then, limited your efforts to sa- 
 cred song ? ” 
 
 “ Even so. As the psalms of David exceed 
 all other language, so does the psalmody that has 
 been fitted to them by the divines and sages of 
 the land, surpass all vain poetry. Happily, I may 
 say that I utter nothing but the thoughts and the 
 wishes of the King of Israel himself ; for though 
 the times may call for some slight changes, yet 
 does this version, which we use in the colonies of 
 New England, so much exceed all other versions, 
 that, by its richness, its exactness, and its spirit 
 ual simplicity, it approacheth, as near as may 
 be, to the great work of the inspired writer. 1 
 never abide in any place, sleeping or waking, 
 without an example of this gifted work. ’Tis the 
 six-and-twentieth edition, promulgated at Boston, 
 Anno Domini 1744 ; and is entitled, ‘ The Psalms, 
 Hymns, and Spiritual Songs of the Old and New 
 Testaments; faithfully translated into English 
 Metre, for the Use, Edification, and Comfort of 
 the Saints, in Public and Private, especially in 
 New England.’ ” 
 
 During this eulogium on the rare production 
 of his native poets, the stranger had drawn the 
 book from his pocket, and fitting a pair of iron- 
 rimmed spectacles to his nose, opened the volume 
 
AN INTRUSION. 
 
 13 
 
 fritli a care and veneration suited to its sacred 
 purposes. Then, without circumlocution or 
 apology, first pronouncing the word “ Standish,” 
 and placing the unknown engine, already de- 
 scribed, to his mouth, from which he drew a 
 high, shrill sound, that was followed by an octave 
 below, from his own voice, he commenced sing- 
 ing the following words, in full, sweet, and melo- 
 dious tones, that set the music, the poetry, and 
 even the uneasy motion of his ill-trained beast 
 at defiance : 
 
 “How good it is, O see, 
 
 And how it pleaseth well, 
 
 Together, e’en in unity. 
 
 For brethren so to dwell. 
 
 It’s like the choice ointment, 
 
 From the head to th’ beard did go : 
 
 Down Aaron’s beard, that downward went, 
 
 His garment’s skirts unto.” 
 
 The delivery of these skilful rhymes was ac- 
 companied, on the part of the stranger, by a 
 regular rise and fall of his right hand, which ter- 
 minated at the descent, by suffering the fingers to 
 dwell a moment on the leaves of the little vol- 
 ume ; and on the ascent, by such a flourish of the 
 member as none but the initiated may ever hope 
 to imitate. It would seem that long practice had 
 rendered this manual accompaniment necessary ; 
 for it did not cease until the preposition which 
 the poet had selected for the close of his verse, 
 had been duly delivered like a word of two sylla- 
 bles. 
 
 Such an innovation on the silence and retire- 
 ment of the forest could not fail to enlist the 
 ears of those who journeyed at so short a dis- 
 tance in advance. The Indian muttered a few 
 words in broken English to Heyward, who, in 
 his turn, spoke to the stranger ; at once interrupt- 
 ing, and, for the time, closing his musical efforts. 
 
 “ Though we are not in danger, common pru- 
 dence would teach us to journey through this 
 wilderness in as quiet a manner as possible. You 
 will, then, pardon me, Alice, should I diminish 
 your enjoyments, by requesting this gentleman 
 to postpone his chant until a safer opportunity.” 
 
 “ You will diminish them, indeed,” returned 
 the arch girl, “ for never did I hear a more un- 
 worthy conjunction of execution and language, 
 than that to which I have been listening ; and I 
 was far gone in a learned inquiry into the causes 
 of such an unfitness between sound and sense, 
 when you broke the charm of my musings by 
 that bass of yours, Duncan ! ” 
 
 “ I know not what you call my bass,” said 
 Heyward, piqued at her remark, “ but I know 
 that your safety, and that of Cora, is far dearer 
 to me than could be any orchestra of Handel’s 
 
 music.” He paused and turned his head quickly 
 toward a thicket, and then bent his eyes suspi- 
 ciously on their guide, who continued his steady 
 pace, in undisturbed gravity. The young man 
 smiled to himself, for he believed he had mistaken 
 some shining berry of the woods for the glistening 
 eyeballs of a prowling savage, and he rode for- 
 ward, continuing the conversation which had 
 been interrupted by the passing thought. 
 
 Major Heyward was mistaken only in suffering 
 his youthful and generous pride to suppress his 
 active watchfulness. The cavalcade had not 
 long passed, before the branches of the bushea 
 that formed the thicket were cautiously moved 
 asunder, and a human visage, as fiercely wild as 
 savage art and unbridled passions could make it, 
 peered out on the retiring footsteps of the travel- 
 lers. A gleam of exultation shot across the 
 darkly-painted lineaments of the inhabitant of 
 the forest, as he traced the route of his intended 
 victims, who rode unconsciously onward ; the 
 light and graceful forms of the females waving 
 among the trees, in the curvatures of their path, 
 followed at each bend by the manly figure of 
 Heyward, until, finally, the shapeless person of 
 the singing-master was concealed behind the 
 numberless trunks of trees, that rose in dark 
 lines in the intermediate space. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 “Before these fields were shorn and tilled 
 Full to the brim our rivers flowed ; 
 
 The melody of waters filled 
 The fresh and boundless wood ; 
 
 And torrents dashed, and rivulets played, 
 
 And fountains spouted in the shade.” 
 
 BnTAirr. 
 
 Leaving the unsuspecting Heyward and his 
 confiding companions to penetrate still deeper 
 into a forest that contained such treacherous in- 
 mates, we must use an author’s privilege, and 
 shift the scene a few miles to the westward of the 
 place where we have last seen them. 
 
 On that day, two men were lingering on the 
 banks of a small but rapid stream, within an 
 hour’s journey of the encampment of Webb, like 
 those who awaited the appearance of an absent 
 person, or the approach of some expected event. 
 The vast canopy of woods spread itself to the 
 margin of the river, overhanging the water, and 
 shadowing its dark current with a deeper hue. 
 The rays of the sun were beginning to grow less 
 fierce, and the intense heat of the day was less- 
 
14 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 ened, as the cooler vapors of the springs and 
 fountains rose above their leafy beds, and rested 
 in the atmosphere. Still that breathing silence, 
 which marks the drowsy sultriness of an Ameri- 
 can landscape in July, pervaded the secluded 
 spot, interrupted only by the low voices of the 
 men, the occasional and lazy tap of a woodpecker, 
 the discordant cry of some gaudy jay, or a swell- 
 ing on the ear, from the dull roar of a distant 
 water-fall. 
 
 These feeble and broken sounds were, how- 
 ever, too familiar to the foresters, to draw their 
 attention from the more interesting matter of 
 their dialogue. While one of these loiterers 
 showed the red skin and wild accoutrements of a 
 native of the woods, the other exhibited, through 
 the mask of his rude and nearly savage equip- 
 ments, the brighter, though sunburnt and long- 
 faded complexion of one who might claim descent 
 from a European parentage. The former was 
 seated on the end of a mossy log, in a posture 
 that permitted him to heighten the effect of his 
 earnest language, by the calm but expressive ges- 
 tures of an Indian engaged in debate. His body, 
 which was nearly naked, presented a terrific em- 
 blem of death, drawn in intermingled colors of 
 white and black. His closely-shaved head, on 
 which no other hair than the well-known and 
 chivalrous scalping-tuft* was preserved, was 
 without ornament of any kind, with the exception 
 of a solitary eagle’s plume, that crossed his crown, 
 and depended over the left shoulder. A toma- 
 hawk and scalping-knife, of English manufacture, 
 were in his girdle ; while a short military rifle, of 
 that sort with which the policy of the whites 
 armed their savage allies, lay carelessly across 
 his bare and sinewy knee. The expanded chest, 
 full-formed limbs, and grave countenance of this 
 warrior, would denote that he had reached the 
 vigor of his days, though no symptoms of decay 
 appeared to have yet weakened his manhood. 
 
 The frame of the white man, judging by such 
 parts as were not concealed by his clothes, was 
 like that of one who had known hardships and 
 exertion from his earliest youth. His person, 
 though muscular, was rather attenuated than 
 full ; but every nerve and muscle appeared strung 
 
 * The North American warrior caused the hair to be 
 plucked from his whole body ; a small tuft, only, was left 
 on the crown of his head, in order that his enemy might 
 avail himself of it, in wrenching off the scalp in the event of 
 his fall. The scalp was the only admissible trophy of vic- 
 tory. Thus, it was deemed more important to obtain the 
 scalp than to kill the man. Some tribes lay great stress on 
 the honor of striking a dead body. These practices have 
 nearly disappeared among the Indians of the Atlantic 
 States. 
 
 and indurated by unremitted exposure and toil. 
 He wore a hunting-shirt of forest-green, fringed 
 with faded yellow, * and a summer cap of skins 
 which had been shorn of their fur. He also bore 
 a knife in a girdle of wampum, like that which 
 confined the scanty garments of the Indian, but 
 no tomahawk. His moccasins were ornamented 
 after the gay fashion of the natives, while tho 
 only part of his underdress which appeared below 
 the hunting-frock, was a pair of buckskin leg- 
 gins, that laced at the sides, and which were gar- 
 tered above the knees, with the sinews of a deer. 
 A pouch and horn completed his personal accou- 
 trements, though a rifle of great length, f which 
 the theory of the more ingenious whites had 
 taught them was the most dangerous of all fire- 
 arms, leaned against a neighboring sapling. The 
 eye of the hunter, or scout, whichever he might be, 
 was small, quiqk, keen, and restless, roving while 
 he spoke, on every side of him, as if in quest of 
 game, or distrusting the sudden approach of some 
 lurking enemy. Notwithstanding these symp- 
 toms of habitual suspicion, his countenance was 
 not only without guile, but, at the moment at 
 which he is introduced, it was charged with an 
 expression of sturdy honesty. 
 
 “ Even your traditions make the case in my 
 favor, Chingachgook,” he said, speaking in the 
 tongue which was known to all the natives who 
 formerly inhabited the country between the Hud- 
 son and the Potomac, and of which we shall 
 give a free translation for the benefit of the read- 
 er ; endeavoring, at the same time, to preserve 
 some of the peculiarities, both of the individual 
 and of the language. “ Your fathers came from 
 the setting sun, crossed the big river,:}: fought 
 the people of the country, and took the land ; 
 and mine came from the red sky of the morning, 
 over the salt lake, and did their work much after 
 the fashion that had been set them by yours ; 
 then let God judge the matter between us, and 
 friends spare their words ! ” 
 
 “ My fathers fought with the naked red man ! ” 
 returned the Indian, sternly, in the same language. 
 
 * The hunting-shirt is a picturesque smock-frock, being 
 shorter, and ornamented with fringes and tassels. The 
 colors are intended to imitate the hues of the wood, with a 
 view to concealment. Many corps of American riflemen, 
 have been thus attired ; and the dress is one of the most 
 striking of modern times. The hunting-shirt is frequently 
 white. 
 
 t The rifle of the army is short; that of the hunter ia 
 always long. 
 
 \ The Mississippi. The scout alludes to a tradition 
 which is very popular among the tribes of the Atlantic 
 States. Evidence of their Asiatic origin is deduced 
 from the circumstances, thongh great uncertainty hangi 
 over the whole history of the Indiana. 
 
CHIN GACHGOOK AND THE SCOUT. 
 
 15 
 
 * Is there no difference, Hawk-eye, between the 
 Btone-headed arrow of the warrior, and the leaden 
 bullet with which you kill ? ” 
 
 “There is reason in<an Indian, though Nature 
 has made him with a red skin ! ” said the white 
 man, shaking his head like one on whom such an 
 appeal to his justice was not thrown away. For 
 a moment he appeared to be conscious of having 
 the worst of the argument, then, rallying again } 
 he answered the objection of his antagonist in 
 the best manner his limited information would 
 allow : “ I am no scholar, and I care not who 
 knows it ; but judging from what I have seen, 
 at deer-chases and squirrel-hunts, of the sparks 
 below, I should think a rifle in the hands of their 
 grandfathers was not so dangerous as a hickory 
 bow and a good flint-head might be, if drawn 
 with Indian judgment, and sent by an Indian eye.” 
 
 “ You have the story told by your fathers,” 
 returned the other, coldly waving his hand. 
 “What say your old men? do they tell the 
 young warriors, that the pale-faces met the red 
 men, painted for war and armed with the stone 
 hatchet and wooden gun ? ” 
 
 “I am not a prejudiced man, nor one who 
 vaunts himself on his natural privileges, though 
 the worst enemy I have on earth, and he is an 
 Iroquois, daren’t deny that I am genuine white,” 
 the scout replied, surveying, with secret satis- 
 faction, the faded color of his bony and sin- 
 ewy hand ; “ and I am willing to own that my 
 people have many ways, of which, as an honest 
 man, I can’t approve. It is one of their customs 
 to write in books what they have done and seen, 
 instead of telling them in their villages, where 
 the lie can be given to the face of a cowardly 
 boaster, and the brave soldier can call on his 
 comrades to witness for the truth of his words. 
 In consequence of this bad fashion, a man who is 
 too conscientious to misspend his days among the 
 women, in learning the names of black marks, 
 may never hear of the deeds of his fathers, nor 
 feel a pride in striving to outdo them. For 
 myself, I conclude all the Bumppos could shoot, for 
 I have a natural turn with a rifle, which must 
 have been handed down from generation to gener- 
 ation, as, our holy commandments tell us, all good 
 and evil gifts are bestowed ; though I should be 
 ioath to answer for other people in such a matter. 
 But every story has its two sides : so I ask you, 
 Chingachgook, what passed, according to the tra- 
 ditions of the red men, when our fathers first 
 met ? ” 
 
 A silence of a minute succeeded, during which 
 the Indian sat mute ; then, full of the dignity of 
 hie office, he commenced his brief tale, with a so- 
 
 17 
 
 lemnity that served to heighten its appearance of 
 truth. 
 
 “Listen, Hawk-eye, and your ear shall drink 
 no lie. ’Tis what my fathers have said, and what 
 the Mohicans have done.” He hesitated a single 
 instant, and, bending a cautious glance toward 
 his companion, he continued, in a manner that 
 was divided between interrogation and assertion • 
 “ Does not this stream at our feet run toward the 
 summer, until its waters grow salt, and the cur- 
 rent flows upward ? ” 
 
 “ It can’t be denied that your traditions tell 
 you true in both these matters,” said the white 
 man ; “ for I have been there, and have seen 
 them ; though, why water, which is so sweet in 
 the shade, should become bitter in the sun, is an 
 alteration for which I have never been able tc 
 account.” 
 
 “ And the current ! ” demanded the Indian, 
 who expected his reply with that sort of interest 
 that a man feels in the confirmation of testi- 
 mony, at which he marvels even while he re- 
 spects it ; “ the fathers of Chingachgook have not 
 lied ! ” 
 
 “ The holy Bible is not more true, and that is 
 the truest thing in Nature. They call this up- 
 stream current the tide, which is a thing soon ex- 
 plained, and clear enough. Six hours the waters 
 run in, and six hours they run out, and the rea- 
 son is this : when there is higher water in the sea 
 than in the river, they run in until the river gets 
 to be highest, and then it runs out again.” 
 
 “ The waters in the woods, and on the great 
 lakes, run downward until they lie like my hand,” 
 said the Indian, stretching the limb horizontally 
 before him, “ and then they run no more.” 
 
 “ No honest man will deny it,” said the scout, 
 a little nettled at the implied distrust of his ex- 
 planation of the mystery of the tides ; “ and I 
 grant that it is true on the small scale, and where 
 the ground is level. But every thing depends on 
 what scale you look at things. Now, on the 
 small scale, the ’arth is level ; but on the large 
 scale it is round. In this manner, pools and 
 ponds, and even the great fresh-water lakes, may 
 be stagnant, as you and I both know they are, 
 having seen them ; but when you come to spread 
 water over a great tract, like the sea, where the 
 earth is round, how in reason can the water be 
 quiet? You might as well expect the river to lie 
 still on the brink of those black rocks a mile 
 above us, though your own ears tell you that it is 
 tumbling over them at this very moment ! ” 
 
 If unsatisfied by the philosophy of his com- 
 panion, the Indian was far too dignified to betray 
 his unbelief. He listened like one who was con 
 
16 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 vinced, and resumed his narrative in his former 
 solemn manner. 
 
 “We came from the place where the sun is 
 hid at night, over great plains where the buffaloes 
 live, until we reached the big river. There we 
 fought the Alligewi, till the ground was red with 
 their blood. ' From the banks of the big river to 
 the shores of the salt lake, there was none to 
 meet us. The Maquas followed at a distance. 
 We said the country should be ours from the 
 place where the water runs up no longer on this 
 stream to a river twenty suns’ journey toward the 
 summer. The land we had taken like warriors we 
 kept like men. We drove the Maquas into the 
 woods with the bears. They only tasted salt at the 
 licks ; they drew no fish from the great lake : we 
 threw them the bones.” 
 
 “ All this I have heard and believe,” said the 
 white man, observing that the Indian paused ; 
 ** but it was long before the English came into 
 the country.” 
 
 “A pine-tree grew then where this chestnut 
 now stands. The first pale-faces who came 
 among us spoke no English. They came in a 
 large canoe, when my fathers had buried the tom- 
 ahawk with the red men around them. Then, 
 Hawk-eye,” he continued, betraying his deep 
 emotion, only by permitting his voice to fall to 
 those low, gutteral tones, which render his lan- 
 guage, as spoken at times, so very musical ; “ then, 
 Hawk-eye, we were one people, and we were hap- 
 py. The salt lake gave us its fish, the wood its 
 deer, and the air its birds. We took wives who 
 bore us children ; we worshipped the Great Spir- 
 it ; and we kept the Maquas beyond the sound of 
 our songs of triumph ! ” 
 
 “ Know you any thing of your own family at 
 that time ? ” demanded the white. “ But you 
 are a just man, for an Indian ! and, as I suppose 
 you hold their gifts, your fathers must have been 
 brave warriors, and wise men at the council- 
 fire.” 
 
 “My tribe is the grandfather of nations, but 
 I am an unmixed man. The blood of chiefs is in 
 my veins, where it must stay forever. The Dutch 
 landed, and gave my people the fire-water ; they 
 drank until the heavens and the earth seemed to 
 meet, and they foolishly thought they had found 
 the Great Spirit. Then they parted with their 
 land. Foot by foot, they were driven back from 
 the shores, until I, that am a chief and a saga- 
 more, have never seen the sun shine but through 
 the trees, and have never visited the graves of 
 my fathers ! ” 
 
 “ Graves bring solemn feelings over the mind,” 
 returned the scout, a good deal touched at the 
 
 calm suffering of his companion ; “ and they 
 often aid a man in his good intentions ; though, 
 for myself, I expect to leave my own bones un- 
 buried, to bleach in the woods, or to be tom 
 asunder by the wolves. But where are to be 
 found those of your race who came to their 
 kin in the Delaware country, so many summers 
 since ? ” 
 
 “ Where are the blossoms of those summers ! 
 — fallen, one by one : so all of my family de- 
 parted, each in his turn, to the land of spirits. I 
 am on the hill-top, and must go down into the 
 valley ; and, when Uncas follows in my foot- 
 steps, there will no longer be any of the blood 
 of the sagamores, for my boy is the last of the 
 Mohicans.” 
 
 “ Uncas is here ! ” said another voice, in the 
 same soft, guttural tones, near his elbow ; “ who 
 speaks to Uncas ? ” 
 
 The white man loosened his knife in his 
 leathern sheath, and made an involuntary move- 
 ment of the hand toward his rifle, at this sudden 
 interruption ; but the Indian sat composed, and 
 without turning his head at the unexpected 
 sounds. 
 
 At the next instant, a youthful warrior passed 
 between them, with a noiseless step, and seated 
 himself on the bank of the rapid stream. No ex- 
 clamation of surprise escaped the father, nor was 
 any question asked, or reply given, for several 
 minutes ; each appearing to await the moment 
 when he might speak without betraying woman- 
 ish curiosity or childish impatience. The white 
 man seemed to take counsel from their customs, 
 and, relinquishing his grasp of the rifle, he also 
 remained silent and reserved. At length Chin- 
 gachgook turned his eyes slowly toward his son 
 and demanded : 
 
 “ Do the Maquas dare to leave the print of 
 their moccasins in these woods ? ” 
 
 “ I have been on their trail,” replied the 
 young Indian, “ and know that they number as 
 many as the fingers of my two hands ; but they 
 lie hid like cowards.” 
 
 “ The thieves are outlying for scalps and 
 plunder ! ” said the white man, whom we shall 
 call Hawk-eye, after the manner of his compan- 
 ions. “ That busy Frenchman, Montcalm, will 
 send his spies into our very camp, but he will 
 know what road we travel ! ” 
 
 “ ’Tis enough ! ” returned the father, glancing 
 his eye toward the setting sun ; “ they shall be 
 driven like deer from their bushes. Hawk-eye, 
 let us eat to-night, and show the Maquas that we 
 are men to-morrow.” 
 
 “ I am as ready to do the one as the other : but 
 
UNCAS. 
 
 17 
 
 lo fight the Iroquois ’tis necessary to find the 
 gkulkers ; and to eat, ’tis necessary to get the 
 game — talk of the devil and he will come ; there 
 .s a pair of the biggest antlers I have seen this 
 season, moving the bushes below the hill ! Now, 
 Uncas,” he continued in a half whisper, and 
 laughing with a kind of inward sound, like one 
 who had learned to be watchful, “ I will bet my 
 charger three times full of powder, against a foot 
 of wampum, that I take him atwix the eyes, and 
 nearer to the right than to the left.” 
 
 “It cannot be!” said the young Indian, 
 springing to his feet with youthful eagerness; 
 “ all but tlxe tips of his horns are hid ! ” 
 
 “ He’s a boy ! ” said the white man, shaking 
 his head while he spoke, and addressing the fa- 
 ther. “ Does he think, when a hunter sees a 
 part of the ereatur’, he can’t tell where the rest 
 of him should be ? ” 
 
 Adjusting his rifle, he was about to make an 
 exhibition of that skill, on which he so much 
 valued himself, when the warrior struck up the 
 piece with his hand, saying : 
 
 “ Hawk-eye ! will you fight the Maquas ? ” 
 
 “ These Indians know the nature of the woods, 
 as it might be by instinct ! ” returned the scout, 
 dropping his rifle, and turning away like a man 
 who was convinced of his error. “ I must leave 
 the buck to your arrow, Uncas, or we may kill a 
 deer for them thieves, the Iroquois, to eat.” 
 
 The instant the father seconded this intima- 
 tion by an expressive gesture of the hand, Uncas 
 threw himself on the ground, and approached the 
 animal with wary movements. When within a 
 few yards of the cover, he fitted an arrow to his 
 bow with the utmost care, while the antlers 
 moved, as if their owner snuffed an enemy in the 
 tainted air. In another moment the twang of 
 the cord was heard, a white streak was seen 
 glancing into the bushes, and the wounded buck 
 plunged from the cover to the very feet of his 
 hidden enemy. Avoiding the horns of the infuri- 
 ated animal, Uncas darted to his side, and passed 
 his knife across the throat, when, bounding to 
 the edge of the river, it fell, dyeing the waters 
 with its blood. 
 
 “ ’Twas done with Indian skill,” said the 
 scout, laughing inwardly, but with vast satisfac- 
 tion ; “ and ’twas a pretty sight to behold ! 
 Though an arrow is a near shot, and needs a 
 knife to finish the work.” 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” ejaculated his companion, turning 
 quickly, like a hound who scented game. 
 
 “ By the Lord, here is a drove of them ! ” ex- 
 claimed the scout, whose eyes began to glisten 
 with the ardor of his usual occupation ; “ if they 
 
 come within range of a bullet I will drop one, 
 though the whole Six Nations should be lurking 
 within sound ! What do you hear, Ohingach- 
 gook ? for to my ears the woods are dumb.” 
 
 “ There is but one deer, and he is dead,” said 
 the Indian, bending his body till his ear nearly 
 touched. the earth. “ I hear the sounds of feet ! ” 
 
 “ Perhaps the wolves have driven the buck, to 
 shelter, and are following on his trail.” 
 
 “ No. The horses of white men are coming ! ” 
 returned the other, raising himself with dignity, 
 and resuming his seat on the log with his former 
 composure. “ Hawk-eye, they are your brothers ; 
 speak to them.” 
 
 “ That will I, and in English that the king 
 needn’t be ashamed to answer,” returned the 
 hunter, speaking in the language of which he 
 boasted ; “ but I see nothing, nor do I hear the 
 sounds of man or beast ; ’tis strange that an In- 
 dian should understand white sounds better than 
 a man who, his very enemies will own, has no 
 cross in his blood, although he may have lived 
 with the red-skins long enough to be suspected ! 
 Ha ! there goes something like the cracking of a 
 dry stick, too — now I hear the bushes move — yes, 
 yes, there is a trampling that I mistook for the 
 falls — and — but here they come themselves ; God 
 keep them from the Iroquois ! ” 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 “■Well, go thy way; thou shalt not from this grove 
 
 Till I torment thee for this injury.” 
 
 Midsummer-Night’s Dream. 
 
 The words were still in the mouth of the 
 scout, when the leader of the party, whose ap- 
 proaching footsteps had caught the vigilant ear of 
 the Indian, came openly into view. A beaten path, 
 such as those made by the periodical passage of 
 the deer, wound through a little glen at no grea. 
 distance, and struck the river at the point where 
 the white man and his red companions had posted 
 themselves. Along this track the travellers, who 
 had produced a surprise so unusual in the depths 
 of the forest, advanced slowly toward the hunter, 
 who was in front of his associates, in readiness 
 to receive them. 
 
 “ Who comes ? ” demanded the scout, throw- 
 ing his rifle carelessly across his left arm, and 
 keeping the fore-finger of his right hand on the 
 trigger, though he avoided all appearance of men- 
 ace in the act — “ who comes hither, among th6 
 beasts and dangers of the wilderness ? ” 
 
18 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “ Believers in religion, and friends to the law 
 and to the king,” returned he who rode foremost. 
 “Men who have journeyed since the rising sun,* 
 in the shades of this forest, without nourishment, 
 and are sadly tired of their wayfaring.” 
 
 “ You are, then, lost,” interrupted the hunter, 
 
 “ and have found how helpless ’tis not to know 
 whether to take the right hand or the left ? ” 
 
 “Even so; sucking babgs are not more de- 
 pendent on those who guide them than we who 
 are of larger growth, and who may now be said 
 to possess the stature without the knowledge of 
 men. Know you the distance to a post of the 
 crown called William Henry ? ” 
 
 “ Hoot ! ” shouted the scout, who did not 
 spare his open laughter, though, instantly check- 
 ing the dangerous sounds, he indulged his merri- 
 ment at less risk of being overheard by any lurk- 
 ing enemies. “ You are as much off the scent as 
 a hound would be, with Horican atwixt him and 
 the deer. William Henry, man ! if you are friends 
 to the king, and have business with the army, 
 your better way would be to follow the river down 
 to Edward, and lay the matter before Webb ; who 
 tarries there, instead of pushing into the defiles, 
 and driving this saucy Frenchman back across 
 Champlain, into his den again.” 
 
 Before the stranger could make any reply to 
 this unexpected proposition, another horseman 
 dashed the bushes aside, and leaped his charger 
 into the pathway, in front of his companion. 
 
 “What, then, may be our distance from Fort 
 Edward ? ” demanded a new speaker ; “ the place 
 you advise us to seek we left this morning, and 
 our destination is the head of the lake.” 
 
 “ Then you must have lost your eyesight afore 
 losing your way, for the road across the portage 
 is cut to a good two rods, and is as grand a path, 
 I calculate, as any that runs into London, or even 
 before the palace of the king himself.” 
 
 “We will not dispute concerning the excel- 
 lence of the passage,” returned Heyward, smiling ; 
 for, as the reader has anticipated, it was he. “ It 
 s enough, for the present, that we trusted to an 
 . ndian guide to take us by a nearer, though blind- 
 er path, and that we are deceived in his knowl- 
 edge. In plain words, we know not where we 
 are.” 
 
 “ An Indian lost in the woods ? ” said the 
 scout, shaking his head doubtingly ; “ when the 
 sun is scorching the tree-tops, and the water 
 courses are full ; when the moss on every beech 
 he sees, will tell him in which quarter the north 
 star will shine at night ! The woods are full of 
 deer-paths which run to the streams and licks, 
 places well known to everybody; nor have the 
 
 geese done their flight to the Canada waters alto- 
 gether ! ’Tis strange that an Indian should be 
 lost atwixt Horican and the bend in the river 1 
 Is he a Mohawk ? ” 
 
 “Not by birth, though adopted in that tribe ; 
 I think his birthplace was farther north, and he 
 is one of those you call a Huron.” 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” exclaimed the two companions of 
 the scout, who had continued until this part of 
 the dialogue, seated immovable, and apparently 
 indifferent to what passed, but who now sprang 
 to their feet with an activity and interest that 
 had evidently got the better of their reserve, by 
 surprise. 
 
 “ A Huron ! ” repeated the sturdy scout, once 
 more shaking his head in open distrust ; “ they 
 are a thievish race, nor do I care by whom they 
 are adopted ; you can never make any thing of 
 them but skulks and vagabonds. Since you 
 trusted yourself to the care of one of that nation, 
 I only wonder that you have not fallen in with 
 more.” 
 
 “ Of that there is little danger, since William 
 Henry is so many miles in our front. You forget 
 that I have told you our guide is now a Mohawk, 
 and that he serves with our forces as a friend.” 
 
 “ And I tell you that he who is born a Mingo 
 will die a Mingo,” returned the other, positively. 
 “ A Mohawk ! No, give me a Delaware or a Mo- 
 hican for honesty; and when they will fight, 
 which they won’t all do, having suffered their 
 cunning enemies, the Maquas, to make them 
 women — but when they will fight at all, look to 
 a Delaware, or a Mohican, for a warrior ! ” 
 
 “ Enough of this,” said Heyward, impatient- 
 ly ; “I wish not to inquire into the character of 
 a man that I know, and to whom you must be a 
 stranger. You have not yet answered my ques- 
 tion ; what is our distance from the main army 
 at Edward ? ” 
 
 “ It seems that may depend on who is your 
 guide. One would think such a horse as that 
 might get over a good deal of ground atwixt sun- 
 up and sun-down.” 
 
 “ I wish no contention of idle words with you, 
 friend,” said Heyward, curbing his dissatisfied 
 manner, and speaking in a more gentle voice ; 
 “ if you will tell me the distance to Fort Edward, 
 and conduct me thither, your labor shall not go 
 without its reward.” 
 
 “ And in so doing, how know I that I don’t 
 guide an enemy, and a spy of Montcalm, to the 
 works of the army ? It is not every man who 
 can speak the English tongue that is an honest 
 subject.” 
 
 “If you serve with the troops, of whom 1 
 
MAGUA’S TREACHERY. 
 
 19 
 
 judge you to be a scout, you should know of 
 such a regiment of the king as the 60th.” 
 
 “ The 60th ! you can tell me little of the 
 Royal Americans that I don’t know, though I do 
 wear a hunting-shirt instead of a scarlet jacket.” 
 
 “Well, then, among other things, you may 
 know the name of its major? ” 
 
 “ Its major ! ” interrupted the hunter, elevat- 
 ing his body like one who is proud of his trust. 
 “If there is a man in the country who knows 
 Major Effingham, he stands before you.” 
 
 “ It is a corps which has many majors ; the 
 gentleman you name is the senior, but I speak of 
 the junior of them all ; he who commands the 
 companies in garrison at William Henry.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, I have heard that a young gentle- 
 nan of vast riches, from one of the provinces 
 hr south, has got the place. He is over-young, 
 too, to hold such rank, and to be put above men 
 whose heads are beginning to bleach ; and yet 
 they say he is a soldier in his knowledge, and a 
 gallant gentleman ! ” 
 
 “ Whatever he may be, or however he may 
 be qualified for his rank, he now speaks to you, 
 and of course can be no enemy to dread.” 
 
 The scout regarded Heyward in surprise, and 
 then, lifting his cap, he answered, in a tone less 
 confident than before — though still expressing 
 doubt : 
 
 “ I have heard a party was to leave the en- 
 campment this morning, for the lake-shore ? ” 
 
 “You have heard the truth; but I preferred 
 a nearer route, trusting to the knowledge of the 
 Indian I.mentioned.” 
 
 “ And he deceived you, and then deserted ? ” 
 
 “Neither, as I believe; certainly not the lat- 
 ter, for he is to be found in the rear.” 
 
 “ I should like to look at the creatur’ ; if it is 
 a true Iroquois I can tell him by his knavish look, 
 and by his paint,” said the scout, stepping past 
 the charger of Heyward, and entering the path 
 behind the mare of the singing-master, whose foal 
 had taken advantage of the halt to exact the 
 maternal contribution. After shoving aside the 
 bushes, and proceeding a few paces, he encoun- 
 tered the females, who awaited the result of the 
 conference with anxiety, and not entirely without 
 apprehension. Behind these, the runner leaned 
 against a tree, where he stood the close examina- 
 tion of the scout with an air unmoved, though 
 with a look so dark and savage, that it might in 
 Itself excite fear. Satisfied with his scrutiny, the 
 hunter soon left him. As he repassed the fe- 
 males, he paused a moment to gaze upon their 
 beauty, answering to the smile and nod of Alice 
 ■yith a look of open pleasure. Thence he went to 
 
 the side of the motherly animal, and, spending a 
 minute in a fruitless inquiry into the character 
 of her rider, he shook his head and returned to 
 Heyward. 
 
 “ A Mingo is a Mingo, and, God having made 
 him so, neither the Mohawks nor any other tribe 
 can alter him,” he said, when he had regained 
 his former position. “ If we were alone, and you 
 would leave that noble horse at the mercy of the 
 wolves to-night, I could show you the way to 
 Edward, myself, within an hour, for it lies only 
 about an hour’s journey hence ; but with such 
 ladies in your company ’tis impossible ! ” 
 
 “ And why ? they are fatigued, but they are 
 quite equal to a ride of a few more miles.” 
 
 “ ’Tis a natural impossibility ! ” repeated the 
 scout ; “ I wouldn’t walk a mile in these woods 
 after night gets into them, in company with that 
 runner, for the best rifle in the colonies. They 
 are full of outlying Iroquois, and your mongrel 
 Mohawk knows where to find them too well to be 
 my companion.” 
 
 “ Think you so ? ” said Heyward, leaning 
 forward in the saddle, and dropping his voice 
 nearly to a whisper ; “ I confess I have not been 
 without my own suspicions, though I have en- 
 deavored to conceal them, and affected a confi- 
 dence I have not always felt, on account of my 
 companions. It was because I suspected him 
 that I would follow no longer ; making him, as 
 you see, follow me.” 
 
 “ I knew he was one of the cheats as soon as 
 I laid eyes on him ! ” returned the scout, placing 
 a finger on his nose in sign of caution. “ The 
 thief is leaning against the foot of the sugar sap- 
 ling that you can see over them bushes ; his 
 right leg is in a line with the bark of the tree, 
 and,” tapping his rifle, “I can take him from 
 where I stand between the ankle and the knee 
 with a single shot, putting an end to his tramping 
 through the woods for at least a month to come. 
 If I should go back to him, the cunning varmint 
 would suspect something, and be dodging through 
 the trees like a frightened deer.” 
 
 “ It will not do. He may be innocent, and I 
 dislike the act. Though, if I felt confident of his 
 treachery — ” 
 
 “ ’Tis a safe thing to calculate on the knavery 
 of an Iroquois,” said the scout, throwing his rifle 
 forward by a sort of instinctive movement. 
 
 “ Hold ! ” interrupted Heyward, “ it will not 
 do — we must think of some other scheme ; and 
 yet I have much reason to believe the rascal has 
 deceived me.” 
 
 The hunter, who had already abandoned his 
 intention of maiming the runner, mused a moment 
 
20 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 and then made a gesture, which instantly brought 
 his two red companions to his side. They spoke 
 together earnestly in the Delaware language, 
 though in an under-tone ; and, by the gestures 
 of the white man, which were frequently directed 
 toward the top of the sapling, it was evident he 
 pointed out the situation of their hidden enemy. 
 His companions were not long in comprehending 
 his wishes, and, laying aside their fire-arms, they 
 parted, taking opposite sides of the path, and 
 burying themselves in the thicket with such cau- 
 tious movements that their steps were inaudible. 
 
 “ Now, go you back,” said the hunter, speak- 
 ing again to Heyward, “ and hold the imp in 
 talk ; these Mohicans here will take him without 
 breaking his paint.” 
 
 “ Nay,” said Heyward, proudly, “ I will seize 
 him myself.” 
 
 “ Hist ! what could you do, mounted, against 
 an Indian in the bushes ? ” 
 
 “ I will dismount.” 
 
 “ And, think you, when he saw one of your 
 feet out of the stirrup, he would wait for the 
 other to be free ? Whoever comes into the 
 woods to deal with the natives, must use Indian 
 ashions, if he would wish to prosper in his un- 
 dertakings. Go, then ; talk openly to the miscre- 
 ant, and seem to believe him the truest friend 
 you have qn ’arth.” 
 
 Heyward prepared to comply, though with 
 strong disgust at the nature of the office he was 
 compelled to execute. Each moment, however, 
 pressed upon him a conviction of the critical 
 situation in which he had suffered his invaluable 
 trust to be involved through his own confidence. 
 The sun had already disappeared, and the woods, 
 suddenly deprived of his light,* were assuming a 
 dusky hue, which keenly reminded him that the 
 hour the savage usually chose for his most bar- 
 barous and remorseless acts of vengeance or hos- 
 tility, was speedily drawing near. Stimulated by 
 apprehension, he left the scout, who immediately 
 entered into a loud conversation with the stranger 
 that had so unceremoniously enlisted himself in 
 the party of travellers that morning. In passing 
 his gentler companions Heyward uttered a few 
 words of encouragement, and was pleased to find 
 that, though fatigued with the exercise of the 
 day, they appeared to entertain no suspicion that 
 their present embarrassment was other than the 
 result of accident. Giving them reason to be- 
 .ieve he was merely employed in a consultation 
 concerning the future route, he spurred his char- 
 ger, and drew the reins again, when the animal 
 
 * Ths 8cene of this talo was in the 42d degree of lati- 
 tude, whore the twilight is n? w er of long continuance. 
 
 had carried him within a few yards of the place 
 where the sullen runner still stood, leaning 
 against the tree. 
 
 “ You may see, Magua,” he said, endeavoring 
 to assume an air of freedom and confidence, 
 “ that the night is closing around us, and yet we 
 are no nearer to William Henry than when wo 
 left the encampment of Webb with the rising sun. 
 You have missed the way, nor have I been more 
 fortunate. But, happily we have fallen in with a 
 hunter, he whom you hear talking to the singer, 
 that is acquainted with the deer-paths and by-ways 
 of the woods, and who promises to lead us to a 
 place where we may rest securely till the mom* 
 ing.” 
 
 The Indian riveted his glowing eyes on Hey- 
 ward as he asked, in his imperfect English, “ la 
 he alone ? ” 
 
 “ Alone ! ” hesitatingly answered Heyward, to 
 whom deception was too new to be assumed 
 without embarrassment. “ Oh ! not alone, sure- 
 ly, Magua, for you know that we are with him.” 
 
 “ Then le Renard Subtil will go,” returned the 
 runner, coolly raising his little wallet from the 
 place where it had lain at his feet ; “and the pale 
 faces will see none but their own color.” 
 
 “ Go ! Whom call you le Renard ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis the name his Canada fathers have given 
 to Magua,” returned the runner, with an air that 
 manifested his pride at the distinction. “ Night 
 is the same as day to le Subtil, when Munro 
 waits for him.” 
 
 “ And what account will le Renard give the 
 chief of William Henry concerning his daugh- 
 ters ? Will he dare to tell the hot-blooded Scots^ 
 man that his children are left without a guide, 
 though Magua promised to be one ? ” 
 
 “ Though the gray head has a loud voice, and 
 a long arm, le Renard will not hear him, nor feel 
 him, in the woods.” 
 
 “ But what will the Mohawks say ? They will 
 make him petticoats, and bid him stay in the wig- 
 wam with the women, for he is no longer to be 
 trusted with the business of a man.” 
 
 “ Le Subtil knows the path to the great lakes, 
 and he can find the bones of his fathers,” was 
 the answer of the unmoved runner. 
 
 “ Enough, Magua,” said Heyward ; “ are wo 
 not friends ? Why should there be bitter wordd 
 between us ? Munro has promised you a gift fer 
 your services when performed, and I shall be 
 your debtor for another. Rest your weary limbs, 
 then, and open your wallet to eat. We have a 
 few moments to spare ; let us not waste them in 
 talk like wrangling women. When the ladies arc 
 refreshed, we will proceed.” 
 
FLIGHT OF THE INDIAN GUIDE. 
 
 21 
 
 “The pale-faces make themselves dogs to 
 their women,” muttered the Indian, in his native 
 language, “ and, when they want to eat, their 
 warriors must lay aside the tomahawk to feed 
 their laziness.” 
 
 “ What say you, Renard ? ” 
 
 “ Le Subtil says it is good.” 
 
 The Indian then fastened his eyes keenly on 
 the open countenance of Heyward, but, meeting 
 his glance, he turned them quickly away, and, 
 seating himself deliberately on the ground, he 
 drew forth the remnant of some former repast, 
 and began to eat, though not without first bend- 
 ing his looks slowly and cautiously around him. 
 
 “ This is well,” continued Heyward ; “ and le 
 Renard will have strength and sight to find the 
 path in the morning ; ” he paused, for sounds 
 like the snapping of a dried stick and the rus- 
 tling of leaves rose from the adjacent bushes, 
 but, recollecting himself instantly, he continued : 
 ‘ We must be moving before the sun is seen, or 
 Montcalm may lie in our path, and shut us out 
 from the fortress.” 
 
 The hand of Magua dropped from his mouth 
 to his side, and though his eyes were fastened on 
 the ground, his head was turned aside, his nos- 
 trils expanded, and his ears seemed even to stand 
 more erect than usual, giving to him the appear- 
 ance of a statue that was made to represent in- 
 tense attention. 
 
 Heyward, who watched his movements with a 
 vigilant eye, carelessly extricated one of hi3 feet 
 from the stirrup, while he passed a hand toward 
 the bear-skin covering of his holsters. Every 
 effort to detect the point most regarded by the 
 runner was completely frustrated by the tremu- 
 lous glances of his organs, which seemed not to 
 re3t a single instant on any particular object, and 
 which, at the same time, could be hardly said to 
 move. While he hesitated how to proceed, le 
 Subtil cautiously raised himself to his feet, though 
 with a motion so slow and guarded, that not the 
 slightest noise was produced by the change. 
 Heyward felt it had now become incumbent on 
 him to act. Throwing his leg over the saddle, 
 he dismounted, with a determination to advance 
 and seize his treacherous companion, trusting the 
 result to his own manhood. In order, however, 
 to prevent unnecessary alarm, he still preserved 
 an air of calmness and friendship. 
 
 “ Le Renard Subtil does not eat,” he said, us- 
 ing the appellation he had found most flattering 
 to the vanity of the Indian. “ His corn is not 
 well parched, and it seems dry. Let me examine ; 
 perhaps something may be found among my own 
 provisions that rUl help his appetite.” 
 
 Magua held out the wallet to the proffer of 
 the other. He even suffered their hands to meet, 
 without betraying the least emotion, or varying 
 his riveted attitude of attention. But when he 
 felt the fingers of Heyward moving gently along 
 his own naked arm, he struck up the limb of the 
 young man, and, uttering a piercing cry as he 
 darted beneath it, plunged, at a single bound, into 
 the opposite thicket. At the next instant the 
 form of Chingachgook appeared from the bushes, 
 looking like a spectre in its paint, and glided 
 across the path in swift pursuit. Next followed 
 the shout of Uncas, when the woods were lighted 
 by a sudden flash, that was accompanied by the 
 sharp report of the hunter’s rifle. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 “ In such a night 
 
 Did Thisbe fearfully o’ertrip the dew ; 
 
 And saw the lion’s shadow ere himself.” 
 
 Merchant op Venice. 
 
 The suddenness of the flight of his guide, and 
 the wild cries of the pursuers, caused Heyward to 
 remain fixed, for a few moments, in inactive sur- 
 prise. Then, recollecting the importance of se- 
 curing the fugitive, he dashed aside the surround- 
 ing bushes, and pressed eagerly forward to lend 
 his aid in the chase. Before he had, however, 
 proceeded a hundred yards, he met the three 
 foresters already returning from their unsuccess- 
 ful pursuit. 
 
 “ Why so soon disheartened ? ” he exclaimed ; 
 “the scoundrel must be concealed behind some 
 of these trees, and may yet be secured. We are 
 not safe while he goes at large.” 
 
 “ Would you set a cloud to chase the wind ? ” 
 returned the disappointed scout ; “ I heard the 
 imp brushing over the dry leaves like a black 
 snake, and, blinking a glimpse of him, just over 
 ag’in yon big pine, I pulled as it might be on the 
 scent ; but ’twouldn’t do ! and yet, for a reason- 
 ing aim, if anybody but myself had touched the 
 trigger, I should call it a quick sight ; and I may 
 be accounted to have experience in these mat- 
 ters, and one who ought to know. Look at this 
 sumach ; its leaves are red, though everybody 
 knows the fruit is in the yellow blossom in the 
 month of July ! ” 
 
 “ ’Tis the blood of le Subtil ! he is hurt, and 
 may yet fall ! ” 
 
 “ No, no,” returned the scout, in decided dis- 
 approbation of this opinion, “ I rubbed the bark 
 off a limb, perhaps, but the creatur’ leaped thf 
 
22 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 longer for it A rifle-bullet acts on a running 
 animal, when it barks him, much the same as 
 one of your spurs on a horse ; that is, it quickens 
 motion, and puts life into the flesh, instead of 
 taking it away. But when it cuts the ragged 
 hole, after a bound or two, there Is, commonly, a 
 stagnation of further leaping, be it Indian or be 
 it deer ! ” 
 
 “ We are four able bodies, to one wounded 
 man ! ” 
 
 “ Is life grievous to you ? ” interrupted the 
 scout. “ Yonder red devil would draw you with- 
 in swing of the tomhawks of his comrades before 
 you w r ere heated in the chase. It was an un- 
 thoughtful act in a man who has so often slept 
 with the war-whoop ringing in the air, to let off 
 his piece within sound of an ambushment ! But 
 then it was a natural temptation, ’twas very natu- 
 ral ! Come, friends, let us move our station, and 
 in such a fashion, too, as will throw the cunning 
 of a Mingo on a wrong scent, or our scalps will 
 be drying in the wind in front of Montcalm’s 
 marquee ag’in this hour to-morrow.” 
 
 This appalling declaration, which the scout 
 uttered with the cool assurance of a man who 
 fully comprehended, while he did not fear to face 
 the danger, served to remind Heyward of the 
 importance of the charge with which he himself 
 had been intrusted. Glancing- his eyes around, 
 with a vain effort to pierce the gloom that was 
 Jaickening beneath the leafy arches of the forest, 
 he felt as if, cut off from human aid, his unre- 
 sisting companions would soon lie at the entire 
 mercy of those barbarous enemies, who, like 
 beasts of prey, only waited till the gathering 
 darkness might render their blows more fatally 
 certain. His awakened imagination, deluded by 
 the deceptive light, converted each waving bush, 
 or the fragment of some fallen tree, into human 
 forms, and twenty times he fancied he could dis- 
 tinguish the horrid visages of his lurking foes 
 peering from their hiding-places in never-ceasing 
 watchfulness of the movements of his party. 
 Looking upward, he found that the thin, fleecy 
 clouds, which evening had painted on the blue 
 sky, were already losing their faintest tints of 
 rose-color, while the embedded stream, which 
 glided past the spot where he stood, was to be 
 traced only by the dark boundary of its wooded 
 banks. 
 
 “ What is to be done ? ” he said, feeling the 
 utter helplessness of doubt in such a pressing 
 6trait ; “ desert me not, for God’s sake ! remain 
 to defend those I escort, and freely name your 
 own reward ! ” 
 
 His companions, who conversed apart in the 
 
 language of their tribe, heeded not this sudden 
 and earnest appeal. Though their dialogue was 
 maintained in low and cautious sounds, but little 
 above a whisper, Heyward, who now approached, 
 could easily distinguish the earnest tones of the 
 younger warrior from the more deliberate speech- 
 es of his seniors. It was evident that they de- 
 bated on the propriety of some measure, that 
 nearly concerned the welfare of the travellers. 
 Yielding to his powerful interest in the subject, 
 and impatient of a delay that seemed fraught with 
 so much additional danger, Keyword drew still 
 nigher to the dusky group, with an intention of 
 making his offers of compensation more definite, 
 when the white man, motioning with his hand, 
 as if he conceded the disputed point, turned 
 away, saying in a sort of soliloquy, and in the 
 English tongue : 
 
 “ Uncas is right ! it would not be the act of 
 men to leave such harmless things to their fate, 
 even though it breaks up the harboring-place for 
 ever. If you would save these tender blossoms 
 from the fangs of the worst of sarpents, gentle- 
 man, you have neither time to lose nor resolution 
 to throw away ! ” 
 
 “ How can such a wish be doubted ! have I 
 not already offered — ” 
 
 “ Offer your prayers to Him, who can give ua 
 wisdom to circumvent the cunning of the devils 
 who fill these woods,” calmly interrupted the scout, 
 “ but spare your offers of money, which neither 
 you may live to realize, nor I to profit by. These 
 Mohicans and I will do what man’s thoughts can 
 invent, to keep such flowers, which, though so 
 sweet, were never made for the wilderness, from 
 harm, and that without hope of any other recom- 
 pense but such as God always gives to upright 
 dealings. First, you must promise two things, 
 both in your own name and for your friends, or, 
 without serving you, we shall only injure our- 
 selves ! ” 
 
 “Name them.” 
 
 “ The one is, to be still as these sleeping 
 woods, let what will happen ; and the other is, to 
 keep the place where we shall take you forever 
 a secret from all mortal men.” 
 
 “ I will do my utmost to see both these con- 
 ditions fulfilled.” 
 
 “ Then follow, for we are losing moments that 
 are as precious as the heart’s blood to a stricken 
 deer ! ” 
 
 Heyward could distinguish the impatient ges- 
 ture of the scout, through the increasing shadows 
 of the evening, and he moved in his footsteps, 
 swiftly, toward the place where he had left the 
 remainder of his partv. When they rejoined the 
 
IUWK-EYE AND HIS NEW COMPANIONS* 
 
 23 
 
 •xpecting and anxious females, he briefly acquaint- 
 ed them with the conditions of their new guide, 
 and with the necessity that existed for their hush- 
 ing every apprehension, in instant and serious 
 exertions. Although his alarming communication 
 was not received without much secret terror by 
 the listeners, his earnest and impressive manner, 
 aided perhaps by the nature of the danger, suc- 
 ceeded in bracing their nerves to undergo some 
 unlooked-for and unusual trial. Silently, and 
 without a moment’s delay, they permitted him to 
 assist them from their saddles, when they de- 
 scended quickly to the water’s edge where the 
 scout had collected the rest of the party, more 
 by the agency of expressive gestures than by any 
 use of words. 
 
 “ What to do with these dumb creatures ! ” 
 muttered the white man, on whom the sole con- 
 trol of their future movements appeared to de- 
 volve ; “ it would be time lost to cut their throats, 
 and cast them into the river ; and to leave them 
 here, would be to tell the Mingoes that they have 
 not far to seek to find their owners ! ” 
 
 “ Then give them their bridles, and let them 
 range the woods,” Heyward ventured to suggest. 
 
 “No ; it would be better to mislead the imps, 
 and make them believe they must equal a horse’s 
 speed to run down their chase. Ay, ay, that 
 will blind their fire-balls of eyes ! Chingach — 
 Hist ! what stirs the bush ? ” 
 
 “ The colt.” 
 
 “ That colt, at least, must die,” muttered the 
 scout, grasping at the mane of the nimble beast, 
 which easily eluded his hand ; “ Uncas, your ar- 
 rows ! ” 
 
 “ Hold ! ” exclaimed the proprietor of the 
 condemned animal, aloud, without regard to the 
 whispering tones used by the others ; “ spare the 
 foal of Miriam ! it is the comely offspring of a 
 faithful dam, and would willingly injure naught.” 
 
 “ When men struggle for the single life God 
 has given them,” said the scout, sternly, “ even 
 their own kind seem no more than the beasts of 
 the wood. If you speak again, I shall leave you 
 to the mercy of the Maquas ! — Draw to your ar- 
 row’s head, Uncas ; we have no time for second 
 blows.” 
 
 The low, muttering sounds of his threatening 
 voice were still audible, when the wounded foal, 
 first rearing on its hinder legs, plunged forward 
 to its knees. It was met by Chingachgook, 
 whose knife passed across its throat quicker than 
 thought, and then, precipitating the motions of 
 the struggling victim, he dashed it into the river, 
 down whose stream it glided away, gasping audi- 
 bly for breath with its ebbing life. This deed of 
 
 apparent cruelty, but of rfeal necessity, fell up or 
 the spirits of the travellers like a terrific warning 
 of the peril in which they stood, heightened as it 
 was by the calm though steady resolution of the 
 actors in the scene. The sisters shuddered and 
 clung closer to each other, while Heyward in- 
 stinctively laid his hand on one of the pistols he 
 had just drawn from their holsters, as he placed 
 himself between his charge and those dense shad- 
 ows that seemed to draw an impenetrable veil 
 before the bosom of the forest. 
 
 The Indians, however, hesitated not a moment, 
 but, taking the bridles, they led the frightened 
 and reluctant horses into the bed of the river. 
 
 At a short distance from the shore they 
 turned, and were soon concealed by the projec- 
 tion of the bank, under the brow of which they 
 moved, in a direction opposite to the course of 
 the waters. In the mean time, the scout drew a 
 canoe of bark from its place of concealment be- 
 neath some low bushes, whose branches were 
 waving with the eddies of the current, into which 
 he silently motioned for the females to enter. 
 They complied without hesitation, though many 
 a fearful and anxious glance was thrown behind 
 them toward the thickening gloom, which now 
 lay like a dark barrier along the margin of the 
 stream. 
 
 So soon as Cora and Alice were seated, the 
 scout, without regarding the element, directed 
 Heyward to support one side of the frail vessel, 
 and, posting himself at the other, they bore it up 
 against the stream, followed by the dejected owner 
 of the dead foal. In this manner they proceeded, 
 for many rods, in a silence that was only inter- 
 rupted by the rippling of the water, as its eddies 
 played around them, or the low dash made by 
 their own cautious footsteps. Heyward yielded 
 the guidance of the canoe implicitly to the scout, 
 who approached or receded from the shore, to 
 avoid the fragments of rocks, or deeper parts of 
 the river, with a readiness that showed his knowl- 
 edge of the route they held. Occasionally hs 
 would stop ; and, in the midst of a breathing still- 
 ness, that the dull but Increasing roar of the wa- 
 ter-fall only served to render more impressive, he 
 would listen with painful intenseness to catch 
 any sounds that might arise from the slumbering 
 forest. When assured that all was still, and un- 
 able to detect, even by the aid of his practised 
 senses, any sign of his approaching foes, he would 
 deliberately assume his slow and guarded prog- 
 ress. At length they reached a point in the 
 river, where the roving eye of Heyward became 
 riveted on a cluster of black objects, collected at 
 a spot where the high bank threw a deeper shad- 
 
M 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 ow than usual on the dark waters. Hesitating to 
 advance, he pointed out the place to the attention 
 of his companion. 
 
 “ Ay,” returned the composed scout, “ the In- 
 dians have hid the beasts with the judgment of 
 natives ! Water leaves no trail, and an owl’s 
 eyes would be blinded by the darkness of such a 
 hole.” 
 
 The whole party was soon reunited, and an- 
 other consultation was held between the scout 
 and his new comrades, during which they, whose 
 fates depended on the faith and ingenuity of 
 these unknown foresters, had a little leisure to 
 observe their situation more minutely. 
 
 The river was confined between high and 
 cragged rocks, one of which impended above the 
 spot where the canoe rested. As these, again, 
 were surmounted by tall trees, which appeared to 
 totter on the brows of the precipice, it gave the 
 stream the appearance of running through a deep 
 and narrow dell. All beneath the fantastic limbs 
 and ragged tree-tops, which were, here and there, 
 dimly painted against the starry zenith, lay alike 
 in shadowed obscurity. Behind them, the curva- 
 ture of the banks soon bounded the view, by the 
 same dark and wooded outline ; but in front, and 
 apparently at no great distance, the water seemed 
 piled against the heavens, whence it tumbled into 
 caverns, out of which issued those sullen sounds 
 that had loaded the evening atmosphere. It 
 seemed, in truth, to be a spot devoted to seclu- 
 sion, and the sisters imbibed a soothing impres- 
 sion of security, as they gazed upon its romantic 
 though not unappalling beauties. A general 
 movement among their conductors, however, soon 
 recalled them from a contemplation of the wild 
 charms that night had assisted to lend the place, 
 to a painful sense of their real peril. 
 
 The horses had been secured to some scatter- 
 ing shrubs that grew in the fissures of the rocks, 
 where, standing in the water, they were left to 
 pass the night. The scout directed Heyward and 
 his disconsolate fellow-travellers to seat themselves 
 in the forward end of the canoe, and took posses- 
 sion of the other himself, as erect and steady as 
 if he floated in a vessel of much firmer materials. 
 The Indians warily retraced their steps toward 
 the place they had left, when the scout, placing 
 his pole against a rock, by a powerful shove, 
 Bent his frail bark directly into the centre of the 
 turbulent stream. For many minutes the strug- 
 gle between the light bubble in which they floated, 
 and the swift current, was severe and doubtful. 
 Forbidden to stir even a hand, and almost afraid 
 to breathe, lest they should expose the frail fabric 
 to the fury of the stream, the passengers watched 
 
 the glancing waters in feverish suspense. Twenty 
 times they thought the whirling eddies were 
 sweeping them to destruction, when the master- 
 hand of their pilot would bring the bows of the 
 canoe to stem the rapid. A long, a vigorous, 
 and, as it appeared to the females, a desperate 
 effort, closed the struggle. Just as Alice veiled 
 her eyes in horror, uuder the impression that 
 they were about to be swept within the vortex at 
 the foot of the cataract, the canoe floated, sta- 
 tionary, at the side of a flat rock, that lay on a 
 level with the water. 
 
 “ Where are we ? and what is next to be 
 done ? ” demanded Heyward, perceiving that the 
 exertions of the scout had ceased. 
 
 “ You are at the foot of Glenn’s,” returned 
 the other, speaking aloud, without fear of conse- 
 quences, within the roar of the cataract; “and 
 the next thing is to make a steady landing, lest 
 the canoe upset, and you should go down again the 
 hard road we have travelled, faster than you came 
 up ; ’tis a hard rift to stem, when the river is a 
 little swelled ; and five is an unnatural number to 
 keep dry, in the hurry-skurry, with a little birch- 
 en bark and gum. There, go you all on the rock, 
 and I will bring up the Mohicans with the venison. 
 A man had better sleep without his scalp, than 
 famish in the midst of plenty.” 
 
 His passengers gladly complied with these 
 directions. As the last foot touched the rock, 
 the canoe whirled from its station, when the tall 
 form of the scout was seen, for an instant, gliding 
 above the waters, before it disappeared in the im- 
 penetrable darkness that rested on the bed of the 
 river. Left by their guide, the travellers remained 
 a few minutes in helpless ignorance, afraid even 
 to move along the broken rocks, lest a false step 
 should precipitate them down some one of the 
 many deep and roaring caverns, into which the 
 water seemed to tumble, on every side of them. 
 Their suspense, however, was soon relieved ; for, 
 aided by the skill of the natives, the canoe shot 
 back into the eddy, and floated again at the side 
 of the low rock, before they thought the scout 
 had even time to rejoin his companions. 
 
 “We are now fortified, garrisoned, and pro- 
 visioned,” cried Heyward, cheerfully, “and may 
 set Montcalm and his allies at defiance. How 
 now, my vigilant scntipel, can you see any thing 
 of those you call the Iroquois, on the main-land ? ” 
 
 “ I call them Iroquois, because to me every 
 native, who speaks a foreign tongue, is account- 
 ed an enemy, though he may pretend to serve the 
 king! If Webb wants faith and honesty in an 
 Indian, let him bring out the tribes of the Dela- 
 wares, and send these greedy and lying Mohawkt 
 
A HIDING-PLACE FROM THE MINGOES. 
 
 25 
 
 and Oneidas, with their six nations of varlets, 
 where in nature they belong, among the French ! ” 
 
 “We should then exchange a warlike for a 
 useless friend ! I have heard that the Delawares 
 have laid aside the hatchet, and are content to 
 be called women ! ” 
 
 “Ay, shame on the Hollanders* * and Iro- 
 quois, who circumvented them by their deviltries, 
 into such a treaty ! But I have known them for 
 twenty years, and I call him liar, that says cow- 
 ardly blood runs in the veins of a Delaware. You 
 have driven their tribes from the sea-shore, and 
 would now believe what their enemies say, that 
 you may sleep at night upon an easy pillow. No, 
 no ; to me, every Indian who speaks a foreign 
 tongue is an Iroquois, whether the castle \ of his 
 tribe be in Canada, or be in York.” 
 
 Heyward, perceiving that the stubborn adhe- 
 rence of the scout to the cause of his friends the 
 Delawares or Mohicans, for they were branches 
 of the same numerous people, was likely to pro- 
 long a useless discussion, changed the subject. 
 
 “ Treaty or no treaty, I know full well that 
 your two companions are brave and cautious war- 
 riors ! Have they heard or seen any thing of our 
 enemies ? ” 
 
 “ An Indian is a mortal to be felt afore he is 
 seen,” returned the scout, ascending the rock, 
 and throwing the deer carelessly down. “ I trust 
 to other signs than such as come in at the eye, 
 when I am outlying on the trail of the Hingoes.” 
 
 “ Do your ears tell you that they have traced 
 our retreat ? ” 
 
 “ I should be sorry to think they had, though 
 this is a spot that stout courage might hold for a 
 smart skrimmage. I will not deny, however, but 
 the horses cowered when I passed them, as though 
 they scented the wolves; and a wolf is a beast 
 that is apt to hover about an Indian ambushment, 
 craving the offals of the deer the savages kill.” 
 
 “You forget the buck at your feet! or, may 
 we not owe their visit to the dead colt ? Ha ! 
 what noise is that ? ” 
 
 “ Poor Miriam ! ” murmured the stranger ; 
 “ thy foal was foreordained to become a prey to 
 ravenous beasts ! ” Then, suddenly lifting up his 
 voice, amid the eternal din of the waters, he sang 
 
 aloud — 
 
 “ First born of Egypt, smite did he, 
 
 Of mankind, and of beast also ; 
 
 O Egypt! wonders sent ’midst thee, 
 
 On Pharaoh and his servants too ! ” 
 
 * The reader will remember that New York was origi- 
 nally a colony of the Dutch. 
 
 t The principal -villages of the Indians are still called 
 
 * castles ” by the whites of New York. “Oneida castle” 
 In no more than a scattered hamlet; but the name is in 
 general use. 
 
 “ The death of the colt sits heavy on the 
 heart of its owner,” said the scout ; “ but it’s a 
 good sign to see a man account upon his dumb 
 friends. He has the religion of the matter, in 
 believing what is to happen will happen ; and 
 with such a consolation, it won’t be long afore he 
 submits to the rationality of killing a four-footed 
 beast, to save the lives of human men. It may 
 be as you say,” he continued, reverting to the 
 purport of Heyward’s last remark; “and the 
 greater the reason why we should cut our steaks, 
 and let the carcass drive down the stream, or we 
 shall have the pack howling along the cliffs, be- 
 grudging every mouthful we swallow. Besides, 
 though the Delaware tongue is the same as a book 
 to the Iroquois, the cunning varlets are quick 
 enough at understanding the reason of a wolf’s 
 howl.” 
 
 The scout, while making his remarks, was 
 busied in collecting certain necessary implements ; 
 as he concluded, he moved silently by the group 
 of travellers, accompanied by the Mohicans, who 
 seemed to comprehend his intentions with in- 
 stinctive readiness, when the whole three dis- 
 appeared in succession, seeming to vanish against 
 the dark face of a perpendicular rock, that rose 
 to the height of a few yards, within as many feet 
 of the water’s edge. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 “ Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide ; 
 
 He wales a portion with judicious care ; 
 
 And ‘let us worship God,’ he says, with solemn air,” 
 
 Btmws 
 
 H/.yward, and his female companions, wit- 
 nessed this mysterious movement with secret un- 
 easiness; for, though the conduct of the white 
 man had hitherto been above reproach, his rude 
 equipments, blunt address, and strong antipathies, 
 together with the character of his silent associ- 
 ates, were all causes for exciting distrust in minds 
 that had been so recently alarmed by Indian 
 treachery. 
 
 The stranger alone disregarded the passing in- 
 cidents. He seated himself on a projection of 
 the rocks, whence he gave no other signs of con- 
 sciousness than by the struggles of his spirit, as 
 manifested in frequent and heavy sighs. Smoth- 
 ered voices were next heard, as though men called 
 to each other in the bowels of the earth, when a 
 sudden light flashed upon those without, and laid 
 bare the much-prized secret of the place. 
 
 At the farther extremity of a narrow, deep 
 cavern in the rock, w hose length appeared much 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 26 
 
 extended by tbe perspective and the nature of the 
 light by which it was seen, was seated the scout, 
 holding a blazing knot of pine. Tbe strong glare 
 of the fire fell full upon his sturdy, weather-beat- 
 en countenance and forest attire, lending an air 
 of romantic wildness to the aspect of an individ- 
 ual, who, seen by the sober light of day, would 
 have exhibited the peculiarities of a man remark- 
 able for the strangeness of his dress, the iron-like 
 inflexibility ^of his frame, and the singular com- 
 pound of quick, vigilant sagacity, and of exqui- 
 site simplicity, that by turns usurped the posses- 
 sion of his muscular features. At a little dis- 
 tance in advance stood Uncas, his whole person 
 thrown powerfully into view. The travellers anx- 
 iously regarded the upright, flexible figure of the 
 young Mohican, graceful and unrestrained in the 
 attitudes and movements of nature. Though his 
 person was more than usually screened by a green 
 and fringed hunting-shirt, like that of the white 
 man, there was no concealment to his dark, glan- 
 cing, fearless eye, alike terrible and calm ; the 
 bold outline of his high, haughty features, pure 
 in their native red ; or to the dignified elevation 
 of his receding forehead, together with all the 
 finest proportions of a noble head, bared to the 
 generous scalping-tuft. It was the first oppor- 
 tunity possessed by Duncan and his companions, 
 to view the marked lineaments of either of their 
 Indian attendants, and each individual of the 
 party felt relieved from a burden of doubt, as the 
 proud and determined, though wild expression of 
 the features of the young warrior forced itself on 
 their notice. They felt it might be a being par- 
 tially benighted in the vale of ignorance, but it 
 could not be one who would willingly devote his 
 rich natural gifts to the purposes of wanton 
 treachery. The ingenuous Alice gazed at his free 
 air and proud carriage, as she would have looked 
 upon some precious relic of the Grecian chisel, 
 to which life had been imparted by the inter- 
 vention of a miracle ; while Heyward, though ac- 
 customed to see the perfection of form which 
 abounds among the uncorrupted natives, openly 
 expressed his admiration at such an unblemished 
 specimen of the noblest proportions of man. 
 
 “ I could sleep in peace,” whispered Alice, in 
 reply, “ with such a fearless and generous-looking 
 youth for my sentinel. Surely, Duncan, those 
 cruel murders, those terrific scenes of torture, of 
 which we read and hear so much, are never acted 
 In the presence of such as he ! ” 
 
 “ This, certainly, is a rare and brilliant in- 
 stance of those natural qualities in which these 
 peculiar people are said to excel,” he answered. 
 v I agree with you, Alice, in thinking that such 
 
 a front and eye were formed rather to intimidate 
 than to deceive ; but let us not practise a decep- 
 tion upon ourselves, by expecting any other ex- 
 hibition of what we esteem virtue than according 
 to the fashion of a savage. As bright examples 
 of good qualities are but too uncommon among 
 Christians, so are they singular and solitary with 
 the Indians ; though, for the honor of our com- 
 mon nature, neither are incapable of producing 
 them. Let us then hope that this Mohican may 
 not disappoint our wishes, but prove, what his 
 looks assert him to be, a brave and constant 
 friend.” 
 
 “ Now Major Heyward speaks as Major Hey- 
 ward should,” said Cora ; “ who, that looks at 
 this creature of Nature, remembers the shade of 
 his skin ? ” 
 
 A short and apparently an embarrassed si- 
 lence succeeded this remark, which was inter- 
 rupted by the scout calling to them aloud to enter. 
 
 “ This fire begins to show too bright a flame,” 
 he continued, as they complied, “ and might light 
 the Mingoes to our undoing. — Uncas, drop the 
 blanket, and show the knaves its dark side. This 
 is not such a supper as a major of the Royal 
 Americans has a right to expect, but I’ve known 
 stout detachments of the corps glad to eat theif 
 venison raw, and without a relish, too.* Here, 
 you see, we have plenty of salt, and can make a 
 quick broil. There’s fresh sassafras boughs for 
 the ladies to sit on, which may not be as proud 
 as their my-hog-guinea chairs, but which sends 
 up a sweeter flavor than the skin of any hog can 
 do, be it of Guinea, or be it of any other land. — 
 Come, friend, don’t be mournful for the colt ; 
 ’twas an innocent thing, and had not seen much 
 hardship. Its death will save the creature many 
 a sore back and weary foot ! ” 
 
 Uncas did as the other had directed, and, 
 when the voice of Hawk-eye ceased, the roar of 
 the cataract sounded like the rumbling of distant 
 thunder. 
 
 “ Are we quite safe in this cavern ? ” demand- 
 ed Heyward. “ Is there no danger of surprise ? 
 A single armed man at its entrance would hold 
 us at his mercy,” 
 
 A spectral-looking figure stalked from out the 
 darkness behind the scout, and, seizing a blazing 
 
 * In vulgar parlance, the condiments of a repast aro 
 called by the American “ a relish,” substituting the thing 
 for its effect. These provincial terms are frequently put in 
 the mouths of the speakers, according to their several con- 
 ditions in life. Most of them are of local use, and others 
 quite peculiar to the particular class of men to which the 
 character belongs. In the present instance, the scout uses 
 the word with immediate reference to the “salt,” with 
 which his own party was so fortunate as to be provided. 
 
GLENN’S FALLS. 
 
 27 
 
 brand, held it toward the farther extremity of 
 their place of retreat. Alice uttered a faint 
 shriek, and even Cora rose to her feet, as this 
 appalling object moved into the light ; but a sin- 
 gle word from Heyward calmed them, with the 
 assurance it was only their attendant, Chingach- 
 gook, who, lifting another blanket, discovered 
 that the cavern had two outlets. Then, holding 
 the brand, he crossed a deep, narrow chasm in 
 the rocks, which ran at right angles with the 
 passage they were in, but which, unlike that, was 
 open to the heavens, and entered another cave, 
 answering to the description of the first, in every 
 essential particular. 
 
 “ Such old foxes as Chingachgook and myself 
 are not often caught in a burrow with one hole,” 
 said Hawk-eye, laughing ; “ you can easily see 
 the cunning of the place — the rock is black lime- 
 stone, which everybody knows is soft ; it makes 
 no uncomfortable pillow, where brush and pine- 
 wood is scarce ; well, the fall was once a few 
 yards below us, and I dare to say was, in its time, 
 as regular and as handsome a sheet of water as 
 any along the Hudson. But old age is a great 
 injury to good looks, as these sweet young ladies 
 have yet to l’arn ! The place is sadly changed ! 
 These rocks are full of cracks, and in some places 
 they are softer than at othersome, and the water 
 has worked out deep hollows for itself, until it 
 has fallen back, ay, some hundred feet, breaking 
 here and wearing there, until the falls have nei- 
 ther shape nor consistency.” 
 
 “ In what part of them are we ? ” asked Hey. 
 ward. 
 
 “ Why, we are nigh the spot that Providence 
 first placed them at, but where, it seems, they 
 were too rebellious to stay. The rock proved 
 softer on each side of us, and so they left the cen- 
 tre of the river bare and dry, first working out 
 these two little holes for us to hide in.” 
 
 “We are then on an island ? ” 
 
 “ Ay ! there are the falls on two sides of us, 
 and the river above and below. If you had day- 
 light, it would be worth the trouble to step up on 
 the height of this rock, and look at the perversity 
 of the water. It falls by no rule at all ; some- 
 times it leaps, sometimes it tumbles ; there, it 
 skips ; here, it shoots ; in one place ’tis white as 
 6now, and in another, ’tis green as grass ; here- 
 abouts, it pitches into deep hollows, that rumble 
 and quake the ’arth ; and thereaway, it ripples and 
 sings like a brook, fashioning whirlpools and gullies 
 in the old stone, as if ’twas no harder than trod- 
 den clay. The whole design of the river seems dis- 
 concerted. First, it runs smoothly, as if meaning 
 to go down the descent as things were ordered ; 
 
 then it angles about, and faces the shores ; nor 
 are there places wanting where it looks back- 
 ward, as if unwilling to leave the wilderness, to 
 mingle with the salt ! — Ay, lady, the fine, cob- 
 web-looking cloth you wear at your throat, is 
 coarse, and like a fish-net, to little spots I can 
 show you, where the river fabricates all sorts of 
 images, as if, having broke loose from order, it 
 would try its hand at every thing. And yet what 
 does it amount to ? After the water has been 
 suffered to have its will, for a time, like a head- 
 strong man, it is gathered together by the hand 
 that made it, and, a few rod3 below, you may see 
 it all, flowing on steadily toward the sea, as was 
 foreordained from the first foundation of the 
 ’arth ! ” 
 
 While his auditors received a cheering assur- 
 ance of the security of their place of concealment, 
 from this untutored description of Glenn’s,* they 
 were much inclined to judge differently from 
 Hawk-eye, of its wild beauties. But they were 
 not in a situation to suffer their thoughts to dwell 
 on the charms of natural objects ; and, as the 
 scout had not found it necessary to cease his cu- 
 linary labors while he spoke, unless to point out, 
 with a broken fork, the direction of some particu- 
 larly obnoxious point in the rebellious stream, 
 they now suffered their attention to be drawn to 
 the necessary though more vulgar consideration 
 of their supper. 
 
 The repast, which was greatly aided by the 
 addition of a few delicacies that Heyward had 
 the precaution to bring with him when they left 
 their horses, was exceedingly refreshing to the 
 wearied party. Uncas acted as attendant to the 
 females, performing all the little offices within 
 his power, with a mixture of dignity and anxious 
 grace that served to amuse Heyward, who well 
 knew that it was an utter innovation on the In- 
 dian customs, which forbid their warriors to de- 
 scend to any menial employment, especially in 
 favor of their women. As the rites of hospitality 
 were, however, considered sacred among them, 
 
 * Glenn’s Falls are on the Hudson, some forty or fifty 
 miles above the head of tide, or the place where the river 
 becomes navigable for sloops. The description of this pic- 
 turesque and remarkable little cataract, as given by the 
 scout, is sufficiently correct, though the application of the 
 water to the uses of civilized life has materially injured its 
 beauties. The rocky island and the two caverns are well 
 known to every traveller, since the former sustains a pier of 
 a bridge, which is now thrown across the river, immediately 
 above the fall. In explanation of the taste of Hawk-eye, it 
 should be remembered that men always prize that most 
 which is least enjoyed. Thus, in a new country, the woods 
 and other objects, which, in an old country would be main 
 tained at great cost, are got rid of, simply with a view o/ 
 “ improving,” as it ia called. 
 
*8 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 this little departure from the dignity of manhood 
 excited no audible comment. Had there been 
 one there sufficiently disengaged to become a close 
 observer, he might have fancied that the services 
 of the young chief were not entirely impartial; 
 that while he tendered to Alice the gourd of 
 sweet water, and the venison in a trencher, neatly 
 carved from the knot of the pepperidge, with 
 sufficient courtesy, in performing the same office 
 k> her sister, his dark eye lingered on her rich, 
 speaking countenance. Once or twice he was 
 compelled to speak, to command the attention of 
 those he served. In such cases, he made use of 
 English, broken and imperfect, but sufficiently in- 
 telligible, and which he rendered so mild and mu- 
 sical, by his deep,* guttural voice, that it never 
 failed to cause both ladies to look up in admira- 
 tion and astonishment. In the course of these 
 civilities, a few sentences were exchanged, that 
 served to establish the appearance of an amicable 
 intercourse between the parties. 
 
 In the mean while, the gravity of Chingach- 
 gook remained immovable. He had seated him- 
 self more within the circle of light, where the fre- 
 quent, uneasy glances of his guests were better 
 enabled to separate the natural expression of his 
 face from the artificial terrors of the war-paint. 
 They found a strong resemblance between father 
 and son, with the difference that might be expect- 
 ed from age and hardships. The fierceness of his 
 countenance now seemed to slumber, and in its 
 place was to be seen the quiet, vacant composure 
 which distinguishes an Indian warrior, when his 
 faculties are not required for any of the greater 
 purposes of his existence. It was, however, easy 
 to be seen, by the occasional gleams that shot 
 across his swarthy visage, that it was only neces- 
 sary to arouse his passions, in order to give full 
 effect to the terrific device which he had adopted 
 to intimidate his enemies. On the other hand, 
 the quick, roving eye of the scout seldom rested. 
 He ate and drank with an appetite that no sense 
 of danger could disturb, but his vigilance seemed 
 never to desert him. Twenty times the gourd or 
 the venison was suspended before his lips, while 
 his head was turned aside, as though he listened 
 to some distant and distrusted sounds — a move- 
 ment that never failed to recall his guests from 
 regarding the novelties of their situation, to a 
 recollection of the alarming reasons that had 
 driven them to seek it. As these frequent pauses 
 were never followed by any remark, the momen- 
 tary uneasiness they created quickly passed away, 
 and for a time was forgotten. 
 
 * The meaning of Indian words Is much governed by 
 the omphasis and tones. 
 
 “ Come, friend,” said Hawk-eye, drawing out 
 a keg from beneath a cover of leaves, toward the 
 close of the repast, and addressing the stranger 
 who sat at his elbow, doing great justice to his 
 culinary skill, “ try a little spruce ; ’twill wash 
 away all thoughts of the colt, and quicken the 
 life in your bosom. I drink to our better friend 
 ship, hoping that a little horse-flesh may leave no 
 heartburnings atween us. How do you name your- 
 self?” 
 
 “ Gamut — David Gamut,” returned the sing- 
 ing-master, preparing to wash down his sorrows 
 in a powerful draught of the woodman’s high-fla- 
 vored and well-laced compound. 
 
 “ A very good name, and, I dare say, handed 
 down from honest forefathers. I’m an admirator 
 of names, though the Christian fashions fall far 
 below savage customs in this particular. The 
 biggest coward I ever knew was called Lyon ; 
 and his wife, Patience, would scold you out of 
 hearing in less time than a hunted deer would 
 run a rod. With an Indian ’tis a matter of con- 
 science ; what he calls himself he generally is — 
 not that Chingachgook, which signifies big sar« 
 pent, is really a snake, big or little ; but that he 
 understands the windings and turnings of human 
 natur’, and is silent, and strikes his enemies when 
 they least expect him. What may be your call- 
 ing ? ” 
 
 “ I am an unworthy instructor in the art of 
 psalmody.” 
 
 “ Anan ! ” 
 
 “ I teach singing to the youths of the Con- 
 necticut levy.” 
 
 “ You might be better employed. The young 
 hounds go laughing and singing too much already 
 through the woods, when they ought not to 
 breathe louder than a fox in his cover. Can you 
 use the smooth-bore, or handle the rifle ? ” 
 
 “ Praised be God, I have never had occasion 
 to meddle with murderous implements ! ” 
 
 “ Perhaps you understand the compass, and 
 lay down the water-courses and mountains of the 
 wilderness on paper, in order that they who fol- 
 low may find places by their given names ? ” 
 
 “ I practise no such employment.” 
 
 “ You have a pair of legs that might make a 
 long path seem short ! you journey sometimes, I 
 fancy, with tidings for the general ? ” 
 
 “ Never ; I follow no other than my own higt 
 vocation, which is instruction in sacred music ! ” 
 “ ’Tis a strange calling ! ” muttered Hawk 
 eye, with an inward laugh, “ to go through life, 
 like a cat-bird, mocking all the ups and downs 
 that may happen to come out of other men’s 
 throats. Well, friend, I suppose it is your gift, 
 
THE EVENING HYMN. 
 
 29 
 
 and mustn’t be denied any more than if ’twas 
 shooting, or some other better inclination. Let 
 us hear what you can do in that way ; ’twill be a 
 friendly manner of saying good-night, for ’tis 
 time that these ladies should be getting strength 
 for a hard and a long push, in the pride of the 
 morning, afore the Maquas are stirring.” 
 
 “ With a joyful pleasure do I consent,” said 
 David, adjusting his iron-rimmed spectacles, and 
 producing his beloved little volume, which he im- 
 mediately tendered to Alice. “ What can be 
 more fitting and consolatory than to offer up 
 evening praise after a day of such exceeding 
 jeopardy ? ” 
 
 Alice smiled ; but, regarding Heyward, she 
 blushed and hesitated. 
 
 “ Indulge yourself,” he whispered ; “ ought 
 not the suggestion of the worthy namesake of the 
 Psalmist to have its weight at such a moment ? ” 
 
 Encouraged by his opinion, Alice did what 
 her pious inclinations, and her keen relish for 
 gentle sounds, had before so strongly urged. 
 The book was opened at a hymn not ill adapted 
 to their situation, and in which the poet, no longer 
 goaded by his desire to excel the inspired King 
 of Israel, had discovered some chastened and re- 
 spectable powers. Cora betrayed a disposition 
 to support her sister, and the sacred song pro- 
 ceeded, after the indispensable preliminaries of 
 the pitch-pipe, and the tune had been duly at- 
 tended to by the methodical David. 
 
 The air was solemn and slow. At times it 
 rose to the fullest compass of the rich voices of 
 the females, who hung over their little book in 
 holy excitement, and again sank so low that the 
 rushing of the waters ran through their melody 
 like a hollow accompaniment. The natural taste 
 and true ear of David governed and modified the 
 sounds to suit the confined cavern, every crevice 
 and cranny of which was filled with the thrilling 
 notes of their flexible voices. The Indians riveted 
 their eyes on the rocks, and listened with an at- 
 tention that seemed to turn them into stone. But 
 the scout, who had placed his chin in his hand, 
 with an expression of cold indifference, gradually 
 suffered his rigid features to relax, until, as verse 
 succeeded verse, he felt his iron nature subdued, 
 while his recollection was carried back to boy- 
 hood, when his ears had been accustomed to lis- 
 ten to similar sounds of praise in the settlements 
 of the colony. His roving eyes began to moisten ; 
 and, before the hymn was ended, scalding tears 
 rolled out of fountains that had long seemed dry, 
 and followed each other down those cheeks that 
 had oftener felt the storms of heaven than 
 any testimonials of weakness. The singers were 
 
 dwelling on one of those low, dying chords, which 
 the ear devours with such greedy rapture, as if 
 conscious that it is about to lose them, when a 
 cry, that seemed neither human nor earthly, rose 
 in the outward air, penetrating not only the re- 
 cesses of the cavern, but to the inmost hearts of 
 all who heard it. It was followed by a stillness 
 apparently as deep as if the waters had been 
 checked in their furious progress at such a horrid 
 and unusual interruption. 
 
 “ What is it ? ” murmured Alice, after a few 
 moments of terrible suspense. 
 
 “ What is it ? ” repeated Heyward aloud. 
 
 Neither Hawk-eye nor the Indians made any 
 reply. They listened, as if expecting the sound 
 would be repeated, with a manner that expressed 
 their own astonishment. At length they spoke 
 together, earnestly, in the Delaware language, 
 when Uncas, passing by the inner and most con- 
 cealed aperture, cautiously left the cavern. When 
 he had gone, the scout first spoke in English. 
 
 “ What it is, or what it is not, none here can 
 tell ; though two of us have ranged the woods 
 for more than thirty years. I did believe there 
 was no cry that Indian or beast could make that 
 my ears had not heard ; but this has proved that 
 I was only a vain and conceited mortal ! ” 
 
 “Was it not, then, the shout the warriors 
 make when they wish to intimidate their ene- 
 mies ? ” asked Cora, who stood drawing her veil 
 about her person, with a calmness to which her 
 agitated sister was a stranger. 
 
 “No, no; this was bad and shocking, and 
 had a sort of unhuman sound ; but when you 
 once hear the war-whoop, you will never mistake 
 it for anything else! — Well, Uncas!” speaking 
 in Delaware to the young chief as he reentered, 
 “ what see you ? do our lights shine through the 
 blankets ? ” 
 
 The answer was short, and apparently decided, 
 being given in the same tongue. 
 
 “ There is nothing to be seen without,” con- 
 tinued Hawk-eye, shaking his head in discontent ; 
 “ and our hiding-place is still in darkness. Pass 
 into the other cave, you that need it, and seek 
 for sleep ; we must be afoot long before the sun, 
 and make the most of our time to get to Edward 
 while the Mingoes are taking their morning nap. 1 
 
 Cora set the example of compliance with a 
 steadiness that taught the more timid Alice the 
 necessity of obedience. Before leaving the place, 
 however, she whispered a request to Duncan that 
 he would follow. Uncas raised the blanket for 
 their passage, and, as the sisters turned to ti^nk 
 him for this act of attention, they saw the scout 
 seated again before the dying embers, with his 
 
30 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 face resting on his hands, in a manner which 
 showed how deeply he brooded on the unaccount- 
 able interruption which had broken up their 
 evening devotions. 
 
 Heyward took with him a blazing knot, which 
 threw a dim light through the narrow vista of 
 their new apartment. Placing it in a favorable 
 position, he joined the females, who now found 
 themselves alone with him for the first time since 
 they had left the friendly ramparts of Fort Ed- 
 ward. 
 
 “Leave us not, Duncan,” said Alice; “we 
 cannot sleep in such a place as this with that 
 horrid cry still ringing in our ears ! ” 
 
 “ First let us examine into the security of your 
 fortress,” he answered, “ and then we will speak 
 of rest.” 
 
 He approached the farther end of the cavern 
 to an outlet, which, like the others, was con- 
 cealed by blankets, and, removing the thick 
 screen, breathed the fresh and reviving air from 
 the cataract. One arm of the river flowed 
 through a deep, narrow ravine, which its current 
 had worn in the soft rock directly beneath his 
 feet, forming an effectual defence, as he believed, 
 against any danger from that quarter ; the wa- 
 ter, a few rods above them, plunging, glancing, 
 and sweeping along in its most violent and broken 
 manner. 
 
 “ Nature has made an impenetrable barrier on 
 this side,” he continued, pointing down the per- 
 pendicular declivity into the dark current, before 
 he dropped the blanket ; “ and as you know that 
 good men and true are on guard in front, I see no 
 reason why the advice of our honest host should 
 be disregarded. I am certain Cora will join me 
 in saying that sleep is necessary to you both.” 
 
 “ Cora may submit to the justice of your 
 opinion, though she cannot put it in practice,” 
 returned the elder sister, who had placed herself 
 by the side of Alice, on a couch of sassafras ; 
 “there would be other causes to chase away sleep } 
 though we had been spared the shock of this 
 mysterious noise. Ask yourself, Heyward, can 
 daughters forget the anxiety a father must endure, 
 whose children lodge, he knows not where or 
 how, in such a wilderness, and in the midst of so 
 many perils ! ” 
 
 “ He is a soldier, and knows how to estimate 
 the chances of the woods.” 
 
 “ He is a father, and cannot deny his nature.’’ 
 
 “ How kind has he ever been to all my follies ! 
 how tender and indulgent to all my wishes ! ” 
 sobbed Alice. “ We have been selfish, sister, in 
 urging our visit at such hazard ! ” 
 
 “ I may have been rash in pressing his con- 
 
 sent in a moment of so much embarrassment 
 but I would have proved to him, that however 
 others might neglect him in his strait, his children 
 at least were faithful ! ” 
 
 “ When he heard of your arrival at Edward, 1 
 said Heyward, kindly, “ there was a powerful 
 struggle in his bosom between fear and love ; 
 though the latter, heightened, if possible, by so 
 long a separation, quickly prevailed. ‘ It is the 
 spirit of my noble-minded Cora that leads them, 
 Duncan,’ he said, ‘ and I will not balk it. Would 
 to God that he who holds the honor of our royal 
 master in his guardianship, would show but half 
 her firmness ! ’ ” 
 
 “And did he not speak of me, Heyward ? ” 
 demanded Alice, with jealous affection. “ Surely, 
 he forgot not altogether his little Elsie ! ” 
 
 “ That was impossible,” returned the young 
 man ; “ he called you by a thousand endearing 
 epithets, that I may not presume to use, but to 
 the justice of which I can warmly testify. Once, 
 indeed, he said — ” 
 
 Duncan ceased speaking ; for, while his eyes 
 were riveted on those of Alice, who had turned 
 toward him with the eagerness of filial affection, 
 to catch his words, the same strong, horrid cry, 
 as before, filled the air, and rendered him mute. 
 A long, breathless silence succeeded, during 
 which each looked at the others in fearful expec- 
 tation of hearing the sound repeated. At length, 
 the blanket was slowly raised, and the scout stood 
 in the aperture with a countenance whose firm- 
 ness evidently began to give way, before a mys- 
 tery which seemed to threaten some danger, 
 against which all his cunning and experience 
 might prove of no avail. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 “They do not sleep. 
 
 On yonder cliffs, a grizzly band, 
 
 I see them sit.” Gbat. 
 
 “’Twould be neglecting a warning that is 
 given for our good, to lie hid any longer,” said 
 Hawk-eye, “when such sounds are raised in the 
 forest ! These gentle ones may keep close, but 
 the Mohicans and I will watch upon the rock, 
 where I suppose a major of the 60th would wish 
 to keep us company.” 
 
 “ I 3 then our danger so pressing ? ” asked 
 Cora. 
 
 “ He who makes strange sounds, and gives 
 them out for man’s information, alone knows our 
 danger. I should think myself wicked, unto 
 
AN UNACCOUNTABLE INTERRUPTION. 
 
 31 
 
 rebellion against his will, was I to burrow with 
 such warnings in the air! Even the weak soul 
 who passes his days in singing, is stirred by the 
 cry, and, as he says, is ‘ ready to go forth to the 
 battle.’ If ’twere only a battle, it would be a thing 
 understood by us all, and easily managed ; but I 
 have heard that when such shrieks are atween 
 heaven and ’arth, it betokens another sort of 
 warfare ! ” 
 
 “ If all our reasons for fear, my friend, are 
 confined to such as proceed from supernatural 
 causes, we have but little occasion to be alarmed,” 
 continued the undisturbed Cora ; “ are you cer- 
 tain that our enemies have not invented some 
 new and ingenious method to strike us with 
 terror, that their conquest may become more 
 easy ? ” 
 
 “Lady,” returned the scout, solemnly, “I 
 have listened to all the sounds of the woods for 
 thirty years, as a man will listen, whose life and 
 death depend on the quickness of his ears. 
 There is no whine of the panther ; no whistle of 
 the cat-bird ; nor any invention of the devilish 
 Mingoes, that can cheat me ! I have heard the 
 forest moan like mortal men in their affliction ; 
 often, and again, have I listened to the wind 
 playing its music in the branches of the girdled 
 trees ; and I have heard the lightning cracking 
 in the air, like the snapping of blazing brush, 
 as it spitted forth sparks and forked flames ; but 
 never have I thought that I heard more than the 
 pleasure of Him who sported with the things of 
 His hand. But neither the Mohicans, nor I , who 
 am a white man without a cross, can explain the 
 cry just heard. We, therefore, believe it a sign 
 given for our good.” 
 
 “ It is extraordinary ! ” said Heyward, taking 
 his pistols from the place where he had laid them 
 on entering ; “ be it a sign of peace or a signal of 
 war, it must be looked to. Lead the way, my 
 friend ; I follow.” 
 
 On issuing from their place of confinement, 
 the whole party instantly experienced a grateful 
 renovation of spirits, by exchanging the pent air 
 of the hiding-place for the cool and invigorating 
 atmosphere which played around the whirlpools 
 and pitches of the cataract. A heavy evening 
 breeze swept along the surface of the river, and 
 aeemed to drive the roar of the falls into the 
 recesses of their own caverns, whence it issued 
 heavily and constant, like thunder rumbling 
 beyond the distant hills. The moon had risen, 
 and its light was already glancing here and there 
 on the waters above them ; but the extremity of 
 the rock where they stood still lay in shadow. 
 With the exception of the sounds produced by 
 
 18 
 
 the rushing waters, and an occasional breathing 
 of the air, as it murmured past them in fitful cur- 
 rents, the scene was as still as night and solitude 
 could make it. In vain were the eyes of each 
 individual bent along the opposite shores, in 
 quest of some signs of life, that might explain the 
 nature of the interruption they had heard. Their 
 anxious and eager looks were baffled by the decep- 
 tive light, or rested only on naked rocks, and 
 straight and immovable trees. 
 
 “ Here is nothing to be seen but the gloom 
 and quiet of a lovely evening,” whispered Dun- 
 can ; “ how much should we prize such a scene, 
 and all this breathing solitude, at any other mo- 
 ment, Cora ! Fancy yourselves in security, and 
 what now, perhaps, increases your terror, may be 
 made conducive to enjoyment — ” 
 
 “ Listen ! ” interrupted Alice. 
 
 The caution was unnecessary. Once more the 
 same sound arose, as if from the bed of the river, 
 and having broken out of the narrow bounds of 
 the cliffs, was heard undulating through the for 
 est, in distant and dying cadences. 
 
 “ Can any here give a name to such a cry ? ” 
 demanded Hawk-eye, when the last echo was lost 
 in the woods ; “ if so, let him speak ; for myself, 
 I judge it not to belong to ’arth ! ” 
 
 “ Here, then, is one who can undeceive you,” 
 said Duncan : “ I know the sound full well, for 
 often have I heard it on the field of battle, and in 
 situations which are frequent in a soldier’s life. 
 ’Tis the horrid shriek that a horse will give in his 
 agony ; oftener drawn from him in pain, though 
 sometimes in terror. My charger is either a prey 
 to the beasts of the forest, or he sees his danger, 
 without the power to avoid it. The sound might 
 deceive me in the cavern, but in the open air I 
 know it too well to be wrong.” 
 
 The scout and his companions listened to this 
 simple explanation with the interest of men who 
 imbibe new ideas, at the same time that they get 
 rid of old ones, which had proved disagreeable 
 inmates. Th : two latter uttered their usual and 
 expressive exclamation, “ Hugh ! ” as the truth 
 first glanced upon their minds, while the former, 
 after a short, musing pause, took upon himself to 
 reply. 
 
 “ I cannot deny your words,” he said ; “ for I 
 am little skilled in horses, though born where 
 they abound. The wolves must be hovering 
 above their heads on the bank, and the timor- 
 some creatures are calling on man for help, in the 
 best manner they are able. — Uncas ” — he spoke 
 in Delaware — “ Uncas, drop down in the canoe, 
 and whirl a brand among the pack ; or fear may 
 do what the wolves can’t get at to perform, and 
 
32 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 leave us without horses in the morning, when we 
 shall have so much need to journey swiftly! ” 
 
 The young native had already descended to 
 the water, to comply, when a long howl was raised 
 on the edge of the river, and was borne, swiftly 
 off into the depths of the forest, as though the 
 beasts, of their own accord, were abandoning 
 their prey in sudden terror. Uncas, with instinc- 
 tive quickness, receded, and the three foresters 
 held another of their low, earnest conferences. 
 
 “We have been like hunters who have lost 
 the points of the heavens, and from whom the 
 sun has been hid for days,” said Hawk-eye, turn- 
 ing away from his companions ; “ now we begin 
 again to know the signs of our course, and the 
 paths are cleared from briers ! Seat yourselves 
 in the shade which the moon throws from yonder 
 beech — ’tis thicker than that of the pines — and 
 let us wait for that which the Lord may choose to 
 send next. Let all your conversation be in whis- 
 pers ; though it would be better, and perhaps, in 
 the end, wiser, if each one held discourse with 
 his own thoughts, for a time.” 
 
 The manner of the scout was seriously im- 
 pressive, though no longer distinguished by any 
 signs of unmanly apprehension. It was evident 
 that his momentary weakness had vanished with 
 the explanation of a mystery which his own ex- 
 perience had not served to fathom ; and, though 
 he now felt all the realities of their actual con- 
 dition, that he was prepared to meet them with 
 the energy of his hardy nature. This feeling 
 seemed also common to the natives, who placed 
 themselves in positions which commanded a full 
 view of both shores, while their own persons 
 were effectually concealed from observation. In 
 such circumstances, common prudence dictated 
 that Heyward and his companions should imitate 
 a caution that proceeded from so intelligent a 
 source. The young man drew a pile of the sas- 
 safras from the cave, and placing it in the chasm 
 which separated the two caverns, it was occupied 
 by the sisters ; who were thus protected by the 
 rocks from any missiles, while their anxiety was 
 relieved by the assurance that no danger could 
 approach without a warning. Heyward himself 
 was posted at hand, so near that he might com- 
 municate with his companions without raising his 
 voice to a dangerous elevation ; while David, in 
 imitation of the woodsmen, bestowed his person 
 in such a manner among the fissures of the rocks, 
 that his ungainly limbs were no longer offensive 
 to the eye. 
 
 In this manner, hours passed by without fur- 
 ther interruption. The moon reached the zenith, 
 and shed its mild light perpendicularly on the 
 
 lovely sight of the sisters slumbering peacefully 
 in each other’s arms. Duncan cast the wide 
 shawl of Cora before a spectacle he so much 
 loved to contemplate, and then suffered his own 
 head to seek a pillow on the rock. David began 
 to utter sounds that would have shocked his deli* 
 cate organs in more wakeful moments ; in short, 
 all but Hawk-eye and the Mohicans lost every 
 idea of consciousness, in uncontrollable drowsi- 
 ness. But the watchfulness of these vigilant 
 protectors neither tired nor slumbered. Immov- 
 able as that rock, of which each appeared to form 
 a part, they lay, with their eyes roving, without 
 intermission, along the dark margin of trees that 
 bounded the adjacent shores of the narrow 
 stream. Not a sound escaped them ; the most 
 subtle examination could not have told they 
 breathed. It was evident that this excess of 
 caution proceeded from an experience that no 
 subtlety on the part of their enemies could de- 
 ceive. It was, however, continued without any 
 apparent consequences, until the moon had set, 
 and a pale streak above the tree-tops, at the bend 
 of the river a little below, announced the ap- 
 proach of day. 
 
 Then, for the first time, Hawk-eye was seen 
 to stir. He crawled along the rock, and shook 
 Duncan from his heavy slumbers. 
 
 “ Now is the time to journey,” he whispered ; 
 “ awake the gentle ones, and be ready to get into 
 the canoe when I bring it to the landing-place.” 
 
 “ Have you had a quiet night ? ” said Hey- 
 ward ; “ for myself, I believe sleep has got the 
 better of my vigilance.” 
 
 “ All is yet still as midnight. Be silent, but 
 be quick.” 
 
 By this time Duncan was thoroughly awake, 
 and he immediately lifted the shawl from the 
 sleeping females. The motion caused Cora to 
 raise her hand as if to repulse him, while Alice 
 murmure’d, in her soft, gentle voice : “No, no, 
 dear father, we were not deserted ; Duncan was 
 with us ! ” 
 
 “ Yes, sweet innocence,” whispered the youth ; 
 “ Duncan is here, and while life continues or dan- 
 ger remains, he will never quit thee. Cora ! 
 Alice ! awake ! The hour has come to move ! ” 
 
 A loud shriek from the younger of the sisters, 
 and the form of the other standing upright before 
 him in bewildered horror, was the unexpected 
 answer he received. While the words were still 
 on the lips of Heyward, there had arisen such a 
 tumult of yells and cries as served to drive the 
 swift currents of his own blood back from its 
 bounding course into the fountains of his heart 
 It seemed, for near a minute, as if the demons of 
 
FIGHTING WITH THE IROQUOIS. 
 
 33 
 
 hell had possessed themselves of the air about 
 them, and were venting their savage humors in 
 barbarous sounds. The cries came from no par- 
 ticular direction, though it was evident they filled 
 the woods, and, as the appalled listeners easily 
 imagined, the caverns of the falls, the rocks, the 
 bed of the river, and the upper air. David raised 
 his tall person in the midst of the infernal din, 
 with a hand on either ear, exclaiming : 
 
 “ Whence comes this discord ? Has hell 
 broke loose, that man should utter sounds like 
 these ! ” 
 
 The bright flashes and the quick reports of a 
 dozen rifles, from the opposite banks of the 
 stream, followed this incautious exposure of his 
 person, and left the unfortunate singing-master 
 senseless on that rock where he had been so long 
 slumbering. The Mohicans boldly sent back the 
 intimidating yell of their enemies, who raised a 
 shout of savage triumph at the fall of Gamut. 
 The flash of rifles was then quick and close be- 
 tween them, but either party was too well skilled 
 to leave even a limb exposed to the hostile aim. 
 Duncan listened with intense anxiety for the 
 strokes of the paddle, believing that flight was 
 now their only refuge. The river glanced by 
 with its ordinary velocity* but the canoe was no- 
 where to be seen on its dark waters. He had 
 just fancied they were cruelly deserted by the 
 scout, as a stream of flame issued from the rock 
 beneath him,- and a fierce yell, blended with a 
 shriek of agony, announced that the messenger 
 of death, sent from the fatal weapon of Hawk- 
 eye, had found a victim. At this slight repulse 
 the assailants instantly withdrew, and gradually 
 the place became as still as before the sudden 
 tumult. 
 
 Duncan seized the favorable moment to spring 
 to the body of Gamut, which he bore within the 
 shelter of the narrow chasm that protected the 
 sisters. In another minute the whole party was 
 collected in this spot of comparative safety 
 
 “ The poor fellow has saved his scalp,” said 
 Hawk-eye, coolly passing his hand over the head 
 of David ; “ but he is a proof that a man may be 
 born with too long a tongue ! ’Twas downright 
 madness to show six feet of flesh and blood, on a 
 naked rock, to the raging savages. I only won- 
 der he has escaped with life.” 
 
 “ Is he not dead ! ” demanded Cora, in a voice 
 whose husky tones showed how powerfully natu- 
 ral horror struggled with her assumed firmness. 
 “ Can we do aught to assist the wretched man ? ” 
 
 “ No, no ! the life is in his heart yet, and after 
 he has slept a while he will come to himself, and 
 be a wiser man for it, till the hour of his real 
 
 time shall come,” returned Hawk-eye, casting an- 
 other oblique glance at the insensible body, while ho 
 filled his charger with admirable nicety. — “ Carry 
 him in, Uncas, and lay him on the sassafras. 
 The longer his nap lasts the better it will be for 
 him, as I doubt whether he can find a proper 
 cover for such a shape on these rocks ; and sing- 
 ing won’t do any good with the Iroquois.” 
 
 “You believe, then, the attack will be re- 
 newed ? ” asked Heyward. 
 
 “ Do I expect a hungry wolf will satisfy his 
 craving with a mouthful ! They have lost a man, 
 and ’tis their fashion, when they meet a loss, and 
 fail in the surprise, to fall back ; but we shall 
 have them on again, with new expedients to cir- 
 cumvent us, and master our scalps. Our main 
 hope,” he continued, raising his rugged counte- 
 nance, across which a shade of anxiety just then 
 passed like a darkening cloud, “ will be to keep 
 the rock until Munro can send a party to our 
 help ! God send it may be soon, and under a 
 leader that knows the Indian customs ! ” 
 
 “ You hear our probable fortunes, Cora,” said 
 Duncan ; “ and you know we have every thing to 
 hope from the anxiety and experience of your 
 father. Come, then, with Alice, into this cavern, 
 where you, at least, will be safe from the murder- 
 ous rifles of our enemies, and where you may be- 
 stow a care, suited to your gentle natures, on oi&r 
 unfortunate comrade.” 
 
 The sisters followed him into the outer cave, 
 where David was beginning, by his sighs, to give 
 symptoms of returning consciousness ; and then 
 commending the wounded man to their attention, 
 he immediately prepared to leave them. 
 
 “ Duncan ! ” said the ti-emulous voice of Cora, 
 when he had reached the mouth of the cavern. 
 He turned, and beheld the speaker, whose color 
 had turned to a deadly paleness, and whose lip 
 quivered, gazing after him, with an expression of 
 interest which immediately recalled him to her 
 side. “ Remember, Duncan, how necessary your 
 safety is to our own — how you bear a father’s 
 sacred trust — how much depends on your discre- 
 tion and care — in short,” she added, while the 
 tell-tale blood stole over her features, crimsoning 
 her very temples, “ how very deservedly dear you 
 are to all of the name of Munro.” 
 
 “ If any thing could add to my own base love 
 of life,” said Heyward, suffering his unconscious 
 eyes to wander to the youthful form of the silent 
 Alice, “ it would be so kind an assurance. As ma- 
 jor of the 60th, our honest host will tell you I must 
 take ray share of the fray ; but our task will be 
 easy : it is merely to keep these blood-bounds at 
 bay for a few hours.” 
 
34 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 Without waiting for reply, he tore himself 
 from the presence of the sisters, and joined the 
 scout and his companions, who still lay within the 
 protection of the little chasm between the two 
 caves. 
 
 “ I tell you, Uncas,” said the former, as Hey- 
 ward joined them, “ you are wasteful of your pow- 
 der, and the kick of the rifle disconcerts your 
 aim ! Little powder, light lead, and a long arm, 
 seldom fail of bringing the death-screech from a 
 Mingo ! At least, such has been my experience 
 with the creatur’s. — Come, friends ; let us to our 
 covers, for no man can tell when or where a Ma- 
 qua * will strike his blow.” 
 
 The Indians silently repaired to their appoint- 
 ed stations, which were fissures in the rocks, 
 whence they could command the approaches to 
 the foot of the falls. In the centre of the little 
 island, a few short and stunted pines had found 
 root, forming a thicket, into which Hawk-eye 
 darted with the swiftness of a deer, followed by 
 the active Duncan. Here they secured them- 
 selves, as well as circumstances would permit, 
 among the shrubs and fragments of stone that 
 were scattered about the place. Above them was 
 a bare, rounded rock, on each side of which the 
 water played its gambols, and plunged into the 
 abysses beneath, in the manner already described. 
 As the day had now dawned, the opposite shores 
 no longer presented a confused outline, but they 
 were able to look into the woods, and distinguish 
 objects beneath the canopy of gloomy pines. 
 
 A long and anxious watch succeeded, but 
 without any further evidences of a renewed at- 
 tack ; and Duncan began to hope that their fire 
 had proved more fatal than was supposed, and 
 that their enemies had been effectually repulsed. 
 When he ventured to utter this impression to his 
 companion, it was met by Hawk-eye with an in- 
 credulous shake of the head. 
 
 “ You know not the nature of a Maqua, if you 
 think he is so easily beaten back without a 
 scalp 1 ” he answered. “ If there was one of the 
 imps yelling this morning, there were forty ! and 
 they know our number and quality too well to 
 give up the chase so soon. Hist ! look into the 
 water above, just where it breaks over the rocks. 
 I am no mortal, if the risky devils haven’t swam 
 down upon the very pitch, and, as bad luck would 
 have it, they have hit the head of the island. 
 Hist ! man, keep close ! or the hair will be off 
 your crown in the turning of a knife.” 
 
 ♦ It will be observed that Hawk-eye applies different 
 tames to his enemies. Mingo and Maqua are terms of con- 
 tempt, and Iroquois is a name given by the French. The 
 .ndians rarely use the same name when different tribes 
 bpcak of each other. 
 
 Heyward lifted his head from the cover, and 
 beheld what he justly considered a prodigy of 
 rashness and skill. The river had worn away the 
 edge of the soft rock in such a manner as to ren- 
 der its first pitch less abrupt and perpendicular 
 than is usual at water-falls. With no other guide 
 than the ripple of the stream where it met the 
 head of the island, a party of their insatiable foes 
 had ventured into the current, and swam down 
 upon this point, knowing the ready access it 
 would give, if successful, to their intended vie* 
 tims. As Hawk-eye ceased speaking, four human 
 heads could be seen peering above a few logs of 
 drift-wood that had lodged on these naked rocks, 
 and which had probably suggested the idea of the 
 practicability of the hazardous undertaking. At 
 the next moment, a fifth form was seen floating 
 over the green edge of the fall, a little from the 
 line of the island. The savage struggled power- 
 fully to gain the point of safety, and, favored by 
 the glancing water, he was already stretching 
 forth an arm to meet the grasp of his companions, 
 when he shot away again with the whirling cur- 
 rent, appeared to rise into the air, with uplifted 
 arms and starting eyeballs, and fell, with a sullen 
 plunge, into that deep and yawning abyss over 
 which he hovered. A single, wild, despairing 
 shriek rose from the cavern, and all was hushed 
 again, as the grave. 
 
 The first generous impulse of Duncan, was to 
 rush to the rescue of the hapless wretch ; but he 
 felt himself bound to the spot by the iron grasp 
 of the immovable scout. 
 
 “ Would ye bring certain death upon us, by tell- 
 ing the Mingoes where we lie ? ” demanded Hawk- 
 eye, sternly ; “ ’tis a charge of powder saved, 
 and ammunition is as precious now as breath to 
 a worried deer ! Freshen the priming of your 
 pistols — the mist of the falls is apt to dampen 
 the brimstone — and stand firm for a close strug- 
 gle, while I fire on their rush.” 
 
 He placed a finger in his mouth, and drew a 
 long, shrill whistle, which was answered from the 
 rocks that were guarded by the Mohicans. Dun- 
 can caught glimpses of heads above the scattered 
 drift-wood, as this signal rose on the air, but 
 they disappeared again as suddenly as they had 
 glanced upon his sight. A low, rustling sound, 
 next drew his attention behind him, and, turning 
 his head, he beheld Uncas within a few feet, 
 creeping to his side. Hawk-eye spoke to him in 
 Delaware, when the young chief took his position 
 with singular caution and undisturbed coolness. 
 To Heyward this was a moment of feverish and 
 impatient suspense ; though the scout saw fit to 
 select it as a fit occasion to read a lecture to his 
 
A DESPERATE STRUGGLE. 
 
 35 
 
 more youthful associates on the art of using fire- 
 arms with discretion. 
 
 “ Of all we’pons,” he commenced, “ the long- 
 barrelled, true-grooved, eoft-metalled rifle, is the 
 most dangerous in skilful hands, though it wants 
 a strong arm, a quick eye, and great judgment in 
 charging, to put forth all its beauties. The gun- 
 smiths can have but little insight into their trade, 
 when they make their fowling-pieces and short 
 horsemen’s — ” 
 
 He was interrupted by the low but expressive 
 “ Hugh ” of Uncas. 
 
 “ I see them, boy, I see them ! ” continued 
 Hawk-eye ; “ they are gathering for the rush, or 
 they would keep their dingy backs below the 
 logs. Well, let them,” he added, examining his 
 flint ; “ the leading man certainly comes on to his 
 death, though it should be Montcalm himself! ” 
 
 At that moment the woods were filled with 
 another burst of cries ; and, at the signal, four 
 savages sprang from the cover of the drift-wood. 
 Heyward felt a burning desire to rush forward to 
 meet them, so intense was the delirious anxiety of 
 the moment ; but he was restrained by the de- 
 liberate examples of the scout and Uncas. When 
 their foes, who leaped over the black rocks that 
 divided them, with long bounds, uttering the 
 wildest yells, were within a few rods, the rifle of 
 Hawk-eye slowly rose among the shrubs, and 
 poured out its fatal contents. The foremost 
 Indian bounded like a stricken deer, and fell 
 headlong among the clefts of the island. 
 
 “ Now, Uncas ! ” cried the scout, drawing his 
 long knife, while his quick eyes began to flash 
 with ardor, “take the last of the screeching 
 imps ; of the other two we are sartain ! ” 
 
 He was obeyed ; and but two enemies re- 
 mained to be overcome. Heyward had given one 
 of his pistols to Hawk-eye, and together they 
 rushed down a little declivity toward their foes ; 
 they discharged their weapons at the same in- 
 stant, and equally without success. 
 
 “ I know’d it, and I said it ! ” muttered the 
 scout, whirling the despised little implement over 
 the falls with bitter disdain. “ Come on, ye 
 bloody-minded hell-hounds ! ye meet a man with- 
 out a cross ! ” 
 
 The words were barely uttered when he en- 
 countered a savage of gigantic stature, and of the 
 fiercest mien. At the same moment Duncan 
 found himself engaged with the other in a similar 
 contest of hand to hand. With ready skill, 
 Hawk-eye and his antagonist each grasped that 
 uplifted arm of the other which held the danger- 
 ous knife. For nearly a minute they stood look- 
 ing one another in the eye, and gradually exerting 
 
 | the power of their muscles for the mastery. At 
 length, the toughened sinews of the white man 
 prevailed over the less-practised limbs of the 
 I native. The arm of the latter slowly gave way 
 before the increasing force of the scout, who, sud- 
 denly wresting his armed hand from the grasp of 
 his foe, drove the sharp weapon through his naked 
 bosom to the heart. In the mean time, Heyward 
 had been pressed in a more deadly struggle. His 
 slight sword was snapped in the first encounter. 
 As he was destitute of any other means of de- 
 fence, his safety now depended entirely on bodily 
 strength and resolution. Though deficient in 
 neither of these qualities, he had met an enemy 
 every way his equal. Happily, he soon suc- 
 ceeded in disarming his adversary, whose knife 
 fell on the rock at their feet ; and from this mo- 
 ment it became a fierce struggle who should cast 
 the other over the dizzy height into a neighbor- 
 ing cavern of the falls. Every successive strug- 
 gle brought them nearer to the verge, where Dun- 
 can perceived the final and conquering effort 
 must be made. Each of the combatants threw 
 all his energies into that effort, and the result 
 was, that both tottered on the brink of the preci- 
 pice. Heyward felt the grasp of the other at his 
 throat, and saw the grim smile the savage gave, 
 under the revengeful hope that he hurried his 
 enemy to a fate similar to his own, as he felt his 
 body slowly yielding to a resistless power, and 
 the young man experienced the passing agony of 
 such a moment in all its horrors. At that instant 
 of extreme danger, a dark hand and glancing 
 knife appeared before him ; the Indian released 
 his hold, as the blood flowed freely from around 
 the severed tendons of his wrist; and, while 
 Duncan was drawn backward by the saving arm 
 of Uncas, his charmed eyes were still riveted on 
 the fierce and disappointed countenance of his 
 foe, who fell sullenly and disappointed down the 
 irrecoverable precipice. 
 
 “ To cover ! to cover ! ” cried Hawk-eye, who 
 just then had dispatched his enemy ; “ to cover, 
 for your lives ! the work is but half ended ! ” 
 
 The young Mohican gave a shout of triumph 
 and, followed by Duncan, he glided up the accliv- 
 ity they had descended to the combat, and sought 
 the friendly shelter of the rocks and shrubs. 
 
36 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 “ They linger yet, 
 
 Avengers of their native land.” 
 
 Gbay. 
 
 Tiie warning call of the scout was not uttered 
 without occasion. During the occurrence of the 
 deadly encounter just related, the roar of the falls 
 was unbroken by any human sound whatever. It 
 would seem that interest in the result had kept 
 the natives on the opposite shores in breathless 
 suspense, while the quick evolutions and swift 
 changes in the positions of the combatants, effect- 
 ually prevented a fire that might prove danger- 
 ous alike to friend and enemy. But the moment 
 the struggle was decided, a yell arose as fierce 
 and savage as wild and revengeful passions could 
 throw into the air. It was followed by the swift 
 flashes of the rifles, which sent their leaden mes- 
 sengers across the rock in volleys, as though the 
 assailants would pour out their impotent fury on 
 the insensible scene of the fatal contest. 
 
 A steady though deliberate return was made 
 from the rifle of Chingachgook, who had main- 
 tained his post throughout the fray with unmoved 
 resolution. When the triumphant shout of Un- 
 cas was borne to his ears, the gratified father 
 raised his voice in a single responsive cry, after 
 which his busy piece alone proved that he still 
 guarded his pass with unwearied diligence. In 
 this manner many minutes flew by with the swift- 
 ness of thought : the rifles of the assailants 
 BDeaking, at times, in rattling volleys, and at 
 others in occasional, scattering shots. Though 
 the rock, the trees, and the shrubs, were cut and 
 torn in a hundred places around the besieged, their 
 cover was so close, and so rigidly maintained, 
 that, as yet, David had been the only sufferer in 
 their little band. 
 
 “ Let them burn their powder,” said the de- 
 liberate scout, while bullet after bullet whizzed 
 by the place where he securely lay ; “ there will 
 be a fine gathering of lead when it is over, and I 
 fancy the imps will tire of the sport, afore these 
 old stones cry out for mercy ! — Uncas, boy, you 
 waste the kernels by overcharging : and a kick- 
 ing rifle never carries a true bullet. I told you 
 to take that loping miscreant under the line of 
 white paint; now, if your bullet went a hair’s 
 breadth, it went two inches above it. The life 
 lies low in a Mingo, and humanity teaches us to 
 make a quick end of the sarpents.” 
 
 A quiet smile lighted the haughty features 
 of the young Mohican, betraying his knowledge 
 of the English language, as well as of the other’s 
 
 meaning ; but he suffered it to pass away without 
 vindication or reply. 
 
 “ I cannot permit you to accuse Uncas of want 
 of judgment or of skill,” said Duncan ; “ he saved 
 my life in the coolest and readiest manner, and 
 he has made a friend who never will require to bo 
 reminded of the debt he owes.” 
 
 Uncas partly raised his body, and offered his 
 hand to the grasp of Heyward. During this act 
 of friendship, the two young men exchanged 
 looks of intelligence which caused Duncan to for- 
 get the character and condition of his wild asso- 
 ciate. In the mean while, Hawk-eye, who looked 
 on this burst of youthful feeling with a cool but 
 kind regard, made the following reply : 
 
 “ Life is an obligation which friends often owe 
 to each other in the wilderness. I dare say I 
 may have served Uncas some such turn myself 
 before now ; and I very well remember that he 
 has stood between me and death five different 
 times: three times from the Mingoes, once in 
 crossing Horican, and — ” 
 
 “ That bullet was better aimed than com- 
 mon ! ” exclaimed Duncan, involuntarily shrink- 
 ing from a shot which struck the rock at his side 
 with a smart rebound. 
 
 Hawk-eye laid his hand on the shapeless 
 metal, and shook his head, as he examined it, 
 saying, “ Falling lead is never flattened ! had it 
 come from the clouds this might have hap- 
 pened.” 
 
 But the rifle of Uncas was deliberately raised 
 toward the heavens, directing the eye of his com- 
 panions to a point where the mystery was imme- 
 diately explained. A ragged oak grew on the 
 right bank of the river, nearly opposite to their 
 position, which, seeking the freedom of the open 
 space, had inclined so far forward, that its upper 
 branches overhung that arm of the stream which 
 flowed nearest to its own shore. Among the top- 
 most leaves, which scantily concealed the gnarled 
 and stunted limbs, a savage was nestled, partly 
 concealed by the trunk of the tree, and partly 
 exposed, as though looking down upon them to 
 ascertain the effect produced by his treacherous 
 aim. 
 
 “ These devils will scale heaven to circumvent 
 us to our ruin,” said Hawk-eye ; “ keep him in 
 play, boy, until I can bring 4 kill-deer ’ to bear, 
 when we will try his metal on, each side of the 
 tree at once.” 
 
 Uncas delayed his fire until the scout uttered 
 the word. The rifles flashed, the leaves and bark 
 of the oak flew into the air, and were scattered 
 by the wind, but the Indian answered their as- 
 sault by a taunting laugh, sending down upon them 
 
AN ADVENTUROUS HURON. 
 
 37 
 
 another bullet in return, that struck the cap of 
 Hawk-eye from his head. Once more the savage 
 yells burst out of the woods, and the leaden hail 
 whistled above the heads of the besieged, as if to 
 confine them to a place where they might become 
 easy victims to the enterprise of the warrior who 
 had mounted the tree. 
 
 “ This must be looked to ! ” said the scout, 
 glancing about him with an anxious eye. “ Un- 
 cas, call up your father ; we have need of all our 
 we’pons to bring the cunning varment from his 
 roost.” 
 
 The signal was instantly given ; and, before 
 Hawk-eye had reloaded his rifle, they were joined 
 by Chingachgook. When his son pointed out to 
 the experienced warrior the situation of their 
 dangerous enemy, the usual exclamatory “ Hugh ” 
 burst from his lips; after which, no further ex- 
 pression of surprise or alarm was suffered to es- 
 cape him. Hawk-eye and the Mohicans con- 
 versed earnestly together in Delaware for a few 
 moments, when each quietly took his post, in or- 
 der to execute the plan they had speedily de- 
 vised. 
 
 The warrior in the oak had maintained a 
 quick though ineffectual fire, from the moment of 
 his discovery. But his aim was interrupted by 
 the vigilance of his enemies, whose rifles instan- 
 taneously bore on any part of his person that was 
 left exposed. Still his bullets fell in the centre 
 of the crouching party. The clothes of Heyward, 
 which rendered him peculiarly conspicuous, were 
 repeatedly cut, and once blood w r as drawn from a 
 slight wound in his arm. 
 
 At length, emboldened by the long and pa- 
 tient watchfulness of his enemies, the Huron at- 
 tempted a better and more fatal aim. The quick 
 eyes of the Mohicans caught the dark line of his 
 lower limbs incautiously exposed through the thin 
 foliage, a few inches from the trunk of the tree. 
 Their rifles made a common report, when, sinking 
 on his wounded limb, part of the body of the 
 savage came into view. Swift as thought, Hawk- 
 eye seized the advantage, and discharged his fa- 
 tal weapon into the top of the oak. The leaves 
 were unusually agitated ; the dangerous rifle fell 
 from its commanding elevation, and, after a few 
 moments of vain struggling, the form of the sav- 
 age was seen swinging in the wind, while he still 
 grasped a ragged and naked branch of the tree, 
 with hands clinched in desperation. 
 
 “ Give him, in pity give him, the contents of 
 another rifle ! ” cried Duncan, turning away his 
 eyes in horror from the spectacle of a fellow 
 creature in such awful jeopardy. 
 
 44 Not a kamel ! ” exclaimed the obdurate 
 
 Hawk-eye ; “ his death is certain, and we have 
 no powder to spare, for Indian fights sometimes 
 last for days ; ’tis their scalps or ours ! — and 
 God, who made us, has put into our natures the 
 craving to keep the skin on the head ! ” 
 
 Against this stern and unyielding morality, 
 supported as it was by such visible policy, there 
 was no appeal. From that moment the yells in 
 the forest once more ceased, the fire was suffered 
 to decline, and all eyes, those of friends as well 
 as enemies, became fixed on the hopeless con- 
 dition of the wretch who was dangling between 
 heaven and earth. The body yielded to the cur- 
 rents of air, and, though no murmur or groan es- 
 caped the victim, there were instants when he 
 grimly faced his foes, and the anguish of cold 
 despair might be traced, through the intervening 
 distance, in possession of his swarthy lineaments. 
 Three several times the scout raised his piece in 
 mercy, and as often, prudence getting the better 
 of his intention, it was again silently lowered. 
 At length one hand of the Huron lost its hold and 
 dropped exhausted to his side. A desperate and 
 fruitless struggle to recover the branch succeed- 
 ed, and then the savage was seen for a fleeting 
 instant grasping wildly at the empty air. The 
 lightning is not quicker than was the flame from 
 the rifle of Hawk-eye ; the limbs of the victim 
 trembled and contracted, the head fell to the 
 bosom, and the body parted the foaming waters 
 like lead when the element closed above it in its 
 ceaseless velocity, and every vestige of the un- 
 happy Huron was lost forever. 
 
 No shout of triumph succeeded this impor- 
 tant advantage, but even the Mohicans gazed at 
 each other in silent horror. A single yell burst 
 from the woods, and all was again still. Hawk- 
 eye, who alone appeared to reason on the occa- 
 sion, shook his head at his own momentary weak- 
 ness, even uttering his self-disapprobation aloud. 
 
 “ ’Twas the last charge in my horn, and the 
 last bullet in my pouch, and ’twas the act of a 
 boy ! ” he said ; 44 what mattered it whether he 
 struck the rock living or dead ! feeling would 
 soon be over. Uncas, lad, go down to the canoe, 
 and bring up the big horn ; it is all the powder 
 we have left, and w r e shall need it to the last 
 grain, or I am ignorant of the Mingo nature.” 
 
 The young Mohican complied, leaving the 
 scout turning over the useless contents of his 
 pouch, and shaking the empty horn with renewed 
 discontent. From this unsatisfactory examina- 
 tion, however, he was soon called by a loud and 
 piercing exclamation from Uncas, that sounded, 
 even to the unpractised ears of Duncan, as the 
 signal of some new and unexpected calamity 
 
88 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 Every thought filled with apprehension for the 
 precious treasure he had concealed in the cavern, 
 the young man started to his feet, totally regard- 
 less of the hazard he incurred by such an expos- 
 ure. As if actuated by a common impulse, his 
 movement was imitated by his companions, and, 
 together, they rushed down the pass to the friend- 
 ly chasm, with a rapidity that rendered the scat- 
 tering fire of their enemies perfectly harmless. 
 The unwonted cry had brought the sisters, to- 
 gether with the wounded David, from their place 
 of refuge ; and the whole party, at a single glance, 
 was made acquainted with the nature of the dis- 
 aster that had disturbed even the practised stoi- 
 cism of their youthful Indian protector. 
 
 At a short distance from the rock, their little 
 bark was to be seen floating across the eddy, 
 toward the swift current of the river, in a manner 
 which proved that its course was directed by 
 some hidden agent. The instant this unwelcome 
 sight caught the eye of the scout, his rifle was 
 levelled, as by instinct, but the barrel gave no 
 answer to the bright sparks of the flint. 
 
 “’Tis too late, ’tis too late!” Hawk-eye ex- 
 claimed, dropping the useless piece in bitter dis- 
 appointment ; “ the miscreant has struck the 
 
 rapid ; and, had we powder, it could hardly send 
 the lead swifter than he now goes ! ” 
 
 The adventurous Huron raised his head above 
 the shelter of the canoe, and while it glided swift- 
 ly down the stream, he waved his hand, and gave 
 forth the shout, which was the known signal of 
 success. His cry was answered by a yell and a 
 laugh from the woods, as tauntingly exulting as 
 if fifty demons were uttering their blasphemies at 
 the fall of some Christian soul. 
 
 “Well may you laugh, ye children of the 
 devil 1 ” said the scout, seating himself on a pro- 
 jection of the rock, and suffering his gun to fall 
 neglected at his feet, “ for the three quickest and 
 truest rifles in these woods are no better than so 
 many stalks of mullen, or the last year’s horns of 
 a buck ! ” 
 
 “ What is to be done ? ” demanded Duncan, 
 losing the first feeling of disappointment in a 
 more manly desire for exertion ; “what will be- 
 come of us ? ” 
 
 Hawk-eye made no other reply than by pass- 
 ing his finger around the crown of his head, in a 
 manner so significant, that none who witnessed 
 the action could mistake its meaning. 
 
 “ Surely, surely, our case is not so desperate ! ” 
 exclaimed the youth ; “ the Hurons are not here ; 
 we may make good the caverns ; we may oppose 
 their landing.” 
 
 “ With what ? ” coolly demanded the scout. 
 
 “ Thu arrows of Uncas, or such tears as women 
 shed ! No, no ; you are young, and rich, and 
 have friends, and at such an age I know it is hard 
 to die ! But,” glancing his eyes at the Mohicans, 
 “ let us remember we are men without a cross, 
 and let us teach these natives of the forest that 
 white blood can run as freely as red, when the 
 appointed hour is come.” 
 
 Duncan turned quickly in the direction indi- 
 cated by the other’s eyes, and read a confirma- 
 tion of his worst apprehensions in the conduct 
 of the Indians. Chingachgook, placing himself 
 in a dignified posture on another fragment of the 
 rock, had already laid aside his knife and toma- 
 hawk, and was in the act of taking the eagle’s 
 plume from his head, and smoothing the solitary 
 tuft of hair in readiness to perform its last and 
 revolting office. His countenance was composed, 
 though thoughtful, while his dark gleaming eyes 
 were gradually losing the fierceness of the com- 
 bat in an expression better suited to the change 
 he expected momentarily to undergo. 
 
 “Our case is not, cannot be so hopeless!” 
 said Duncan ; “ even at this very moment succor 
 may be at hand. I see no enemies ! they have 
 sickened of a struggle in which they risk so much 
 with so little prospect of gain. ” 
 
 “ It may be a minute, or it may be an hour, 
 afore the wily sarpents steal upon us, and it is 
 quite in natur’ for them to be laying within hear- 
 ing at this moment,” said Hawk-eye ; “ but come 
 they will, and in such a fashion as will leave us 
 nothing to hope ! — Chingachgook ” — he spoke in 
 Delaware — “ my brother, we have fought our last 
 battle together, and the Maquas will triumph in 
 the death of the sage man of the Mohicans, and 
 of the pale-face, whose eyes can make night as 
 day, and level the clouds to the mists of the 
 springs ! ” 
 
 “ Let the Mingo women go weep over their 
 slain!” returned the Indian, with characteristic 
 pride and unmoved firmness ; “ the Great Snake 
 of the Mohicans has coiled himself in their wig- 
 wams, and has poisoned their triumph with the 
 wailings of children, whose fathers have not re- 
 turned ! Eleven warriors lie hid from the graves 
 of their tribes since the snows have melted, and 
 none will tell where to find them when the tongue 
 of Chingachgook shall be silent ! Let them draw 
 the sharpest knife, and whirl the swiftest toma- 
 hawk, for their bitterest enemy is in their hands. 
 — Uncas, topmost branch of a noble trunk, call on 
 the cowards to hasten, or their hearts will soften, 
 and they will change to women ! ” 
 
 “ They look among the fishes for their dead ! n 
 returned the low, soft voice of the youthful chief- 
 
CORA MUNRO’S FORTITUDE. 
 
 39 
 
 lain; “the Hurons float with the slimy eels! 
 They drop from the oaks like fruit that is ready 
 to be eaten ; and the Delawares laugh ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, ay,” muttered the scout, who had lis- 
 tened to this peculiar burst of the natives with 
 deep attention ; “ they have warmed their In- 
 dian feelings, and they’ll soon provoke the Ma- 
 quas to give them a speedy end. As for me, who 
 am of the whole blood of the whites, it is befitting 
 that I should die as becomes my color, with no 
 words of scoffing in my mouth, and without bit- 
 terness at the heart ! ” 
 
 “ Why die at all ? ” said Cora, advancing from 
 the place where natural horror had, until this 
 moment, held her riveted to the rock ; “ the path 
 is open on every side ; fly, then, to the woods, 
 and call on God for succor ! Go, brave men, we 
 owe you too much already ; let us no longer in- 
 volve you in our hapless fortunes ! ” 
 
 “ You but little know the craft of the Iro- 
 quois, lady, if you judge they have left the path 
 open to the woods ! ” returned Hawk-eye, who, 
 however, immediately added in his simplicity : 
 “the down-stream current, it is certain, might 
 soon sweep us beyond the reach of their rifles or 
 the sounds of their voices.” 
 
 “ Then try the river. Why linger, to add to 
 the number of the victims of our merciless ene- 
 mies ? ” 
 
 “ Why ? ” repeated the scout, looking about 
 him, proudly ; “ because it is better for a man to 
 die at peace with himself than to live haunted by 
 an evil conscience ! What answer could we give 
 Munro, when he asked us where and how we left 
 his children ? ” 
 
 “ Go to him, and say that you left them with 
 a message to hasten to their aid,” returned Cora, 
 advancing nigher to the scout, in her generous 
 ardor ; “ that the Hurons bear them into the north- 
 ern wilds, but that by vigilance and speed they 
 may yet be rescued ; and if, after all, it should 
 please Heaven that his assistance come too late, 
 bear to him,” she continued, her voice gradually 
 •owering, until it seemed nearly choked, “ the 
 .ove, the blessings, the final prayers of his daugh- 
 ters, and bid him not mourn their early fate, but 
 to look forward with humble confidence to the 
 Christian’s goal to meet his children.” 
 
 The hard, weather-beaten features of the scout 
 began to work, and, when she had ended, he 
 dropped his chin to his hand, like a man musing 
 profoundly on the nature of the proposal. 
 
 “ There is reason in her words ! ” at length 
 broke from his compressed and trembling lips ; 
 “ay, and they bear the spirit of Christianity; 
 what might be right and proper in a red-skin, 
 
 may be sinful in a man who has not even a cross 
 in blood to plead for his ignorance. — Chingach- 
 gook ! Uncas ! hear you the talk of the dark-eyed 
 woman ? ” 
 
 He now spoke in Delaware to his companions, 
 and his address, though calm and deliberate, 
 seemed very decided. The elder Mohican heard 
 him with deep gravity, and appeared to ponder 
 on his words, as though he felt the importance 
 of their import. After a moment of hesitation, 
 he waved his hand in assent, and uttered the Eng- 
 lish word “ Good ” with the peculiar emphasis 
 of his people. Then, replacing his knife and 
 tomahawk in his girdle, the warrior moved si- 
 lently to the edge of the rock which was most 
 concealed from the banks of the river. Here he 
 paused a moment, pointed significantly to the 
 woods below, and, saying a few words in his own 
 language, as if indicating his intended route, he 
 dropped into the water, and sank from before the 
 eyes of the witnesses of his movements. 
 
 The scout delayed his departure to speak to 
 the generous girl, whose breathing became light- 
 er as she saw the success of her remonstrance. 
 
 “Wisdom is sometimes given to the young, 
 as well as to the old,” he said ; “and what jou 
 have spoken is wise, not to call it by a better 
 word. If you are led into the woods, that is, 
 such of you as may be spared for a while, break 
 the twigs on the bushes as you pass, and make the 
 marks of your trail as broad as you can, when, 
 if mortal eyes can see them, depend on having a 
 friend who will follow to the ends of ’arth afore 
 he desarts you.” 
 
 He gave Cora an affectionate shake of the 
 hand, lifted his rifle, and after regarding it a mo- 
 ment with melancholy solicitude, laid it carefully 
 aside, and descended to the place where Chin- 
 gachgook had just disappeared. For an instant 
 he hung suspended by the rock ; and looking 
 about him, with a countenance of peculiar care, 
 he added, bitterly, “ Had the powder held out, 
 this disgrace could never have befallen ! ” then, 
 loosening his hold, the water closed above his 
 head, and he also became lost to view. 
 
 All eyes were now turned on Uncas, who 
 stood leaning against the ragged rock, in immov- 
 able composure. After waiting a short time, Cora 
 pointed down the river, and said : 
 
 “ Your friends have not been seen, and are 
 now, most probably, in safety ; is it not time for 
 you to follow ? ” 
 
 “Uncas will stay,” the young Mohican calmly 
 answered in English. 
 
 “ To increase the horror of our capture, and 
 to diminish the chances of our release ! Go, gen* 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 10 
 
 erous young man,” Cora continued, lowering her 
 eyes under the gaze of the Mohican, and, per- 
 haps, with an intuitive consciousness of her pow- 
 er ; “ go to my father, as I have §aid, and be the 
 most confidential of my messengers. Tell him to 
 trust you with the means to buy the freedom of 
 his daughters. Go ! ’tis my wish, ’tis my prayer, 
 that you will go ! ” 
 
 The settled, calm look of the young chief 
 changed to an expression of gloom, but he no 
 longer hesitated. With a noiseless step he crossed 
 the rock, and dropped into the troubled stream. 
 Hardly a breath was drawn by those he left be- 
 hind, until they caught a glimpse of his head 
 emerging for air, far down the current, when he 
 again sank, and w r as seen no more. 
 
 These sudden and apparently successful ex- 
 periments had all taken place in a few minutes 
 of that time which had now become so precious. 
 After the last look at Uncas, Cora turned, and, 
 with a quivering lip, addressed herself to Hey- 
 ward : 
 
 “ I have heard of your boasted skill in the 
 water, too, Duncan,” she said ; “ follow, then, the 
 wise example set you by these simple and faithful 
 beings.” 
 
 “ Is such the faith that Cora Munro would ex- 
 act from her protector ? ” said the young man, 
 smiling mournfully, but with bitterness. 
 
 “ This is not a time for idle subtleties and 
 false opinions,” she answered ; “ but a moment 
 when every duty should be equally considered. 
 To us you can be of no further service here, but 
 your precious life may be saved for other and 
 nearer friends.” 
 
 He made no reply, though his eyes fell wistful- 
 ly on the beautiful form of Alice, who was cling- 
 ing to his arm with the dependency of an infant. 
 
 “Consider,” continued Cora, after a pause 
 during which she seemed to struggle with a pang 
 even more acute than any that her fears had ex- 
 cited, “ that the worst to us can be but death ; a 
 tribute that all must pay at the good time of 
 God’s appointment.” 
 
 “ There are evils worse than death,” said Dun- 
 can, speaking hoarsely, and as if fretful at her 
 importunity, “but which the presence of one 
 who would die in your behalf may avert.” 
 
 Cora ceased her entreaties ; and, veiling her 
 face in her shawl, drew the nearly insensible Alice 
 after her into the deepest recess of the inner cav- 
 ern. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 “ Be gay securely ; 
 
 Dispel, my fair, with smiles, the tim’rous clouds, 
 
 That hang on thy clear brow.” 
 
 Death of Ageippiha. 
 
 The sudden and almost magical change, from 
 the stirring incidents of the combat to the still- 
 ness that now reigned around him, acted on the 
 heated imagination of Heyward like some excit- 
 ing dream. While all the images and events he 
 had witnessed remained deeply impressed on his 
 memory, he felt a difficulty in persuading himself 
 of their truth. Still ignorant of the fate of those 
 who had trusted to the aid of the swift current, 
 he at first listened intently to any signal, or sounds 
 of alarm, which might announce the good or evil 
 fortune of their hazardous undertaking. His at- 
 tention was, however, bestowed in vain ; for, with 
 the disappearance of Uncas, every sign of the ad- 
 venturers had been lost, leaving him in total un- 
 certainty of their fate. 
 
 In a moment of such painful doubt, Duncan 
 did not hesitate to look about him, without con- 
 sulting that protection from the rocks which just 
 before had been so necessary to his safety. Every 
 effort, however, to detect the least evidence of the 
 approach of their hidden enemies, was as fruitless 
 as the inquiry after his late companions. The 
 wooded banks of the rivers seemed again deserted 
 by every thing possessing animal life. The up- 
 roar which had so lately echoed through the vaults 
 of the forest was gone, leaving the rush of the 
 waters to swell and sink on the currents of the 
 air, in the unmingled sweetness of Nature. A fish- 
 hawk, which, secure on the topmost branches of 
 a dead pine, had been a distant spectator of the 
 fray, now stooped from his high and ragged perch, 
 and soared, in wide sweeps, above his prey; 
 while a jay, whose noisy voice had been stilled 
 by the hoarser cries of the savages, ventured 
 again to open his discordant throat, as though 
 once more in undisturbed possession of his wild 
 domains. Duncan caught from these natural ac- 
 companiments of the solitary scene a glimmering 
 of hope ; and he began to rally his faculties to re- 
 newed exertions, with something like a reviving 
 confidence of success. 
 
 “ The Hurons are not to be seen,” he said, 
 addressing David, who had by no means recov- 
 ered from the effects of the stunning blow he had 
 received ; “let us conceal ourselves in the ckrem, 
 and trust the rest to Providence.” 
 
 I remember to have united with two comely 
 maidens in lifting up our voices in praise and 
 
THE SINGING-MASTER. 
 
 41 
 
 thanksgiving,” returned the bewildered singing- 
 master ; “ since which time I have been visited 
 by a heavy judgment for my sins. I have been 
 mocked with the likeness of sleep, while sounds 
 of discord have rent my ears, such as might mani- 
 fest the fulness of time, and that Nature had for- 
 gotten her harmony.” 
 
 “ Poor fellow ! thine own period was, in truth, 
 near its accomplishment ! But arouse, and come 
 with me ; I will lead you where all other sounds 
 but those of your own psalmody shall be ex- 
 cluded.” 
 
 « There is melody in the fall of the cataract, 
 and the rushing of many waters is sweet to the 
 senses ! ” said David, pressing his hand confus- 
 edly on his brow. “ Is not the air yet filled with 
 shrieks and cries, as though the departed spirits 
 of the damned — ” 
 
 “ Not now, not now,” interrupted the impa- 
 tient Heyward, “ they have ceased, and they who 
 raised them, I trust in God, they are gone too ! 
 every thing but the water is still and at peace ; 
 in, then, where you may create those sounds you 
 love so well to hear.” 
 
 David smiled sadly, though not without a mo- 
 mentary gleam of pleasure, at this allusion to his 
 beloved vocation. He no longer hesitated to be 
 led to a spot which promised such unalloyed grat- 
 ification to his wearied senses ; and, leaning on 
 the arm of his companion, he entered the narrow 
 mouth of the cave. Duncan seized a pile of the 
 sassafras, which he drew before the passage, studi- 
 ously concealing every appearance of an aperture. 
 Within this fragile barrier he arranged the blank- 
 ets abandoned by the foresters, darkening the 
 inner extremity of the cavern, while its outer 
 received a chastened light from the narrow ravine, 
 through which one arm of the river rushed, to 
 form the junction with its sister-branch, a few 
 rods below. 
 
 “I like not that principle of the natives, 
 which teaches them to submit without a struggle, 
 in emergencies that appear desperate,” he said, 
 while busied in this employment ; “ our own max- 
 im, which says, ‘ while life remains there is hope,’ 
 is more consoling, and better suited to a soldier’s 
 temperament. To you, Cora, I will urge no words 
 of idle encouragement ; your own fortitude and 
 undisturbed reason will teach you all that may 
 become your sex ; but cannot we dry the tears of 
 that trembling weeper on your bosom ? ” 
 
 “I am calmer, Duncan,” said Alice, raising 
 herself from the arms of her sister, and forcing 
 an appearance of composure through her tears ; 
 ** much calmer, now. Surely, in this hidden spot 
 we are safe, we are secret, free from injury ; we 
 
 will hope every thing from those geneious men 
 who have risked so much already in our behalf.' 
 
 “Now does our gentle Alice speak like a 
 daughter of Munro ! ” said Heyward, pausing to 
 press her hand as he passed toward the outer en- 
 trance of the cavern. “ With two such examples 
 of courage before him, a man would be ashamed 
 to prove other than a hero.” He then seat- 
 ed himself in the centre of the cavern, grasping 
 his remaining pistol with a hand convulsively 
 clinched, while his contracted and frowning eye 
 announced the sullen desperation of his purpose. 
 “ The Hurons, if they come, may not gain our 
 position so easily as they think,” he lowly mut- 
 tered ; and, dropping his head back against the 
 rock, he seemed to await the result in patience, 
 though his gaze was unceasingly bent on the open 
 avenue to their place of retreat. 
 
 With the last sound of his voice, a deep, a 
 long, and almost breathless silence succeeded. 
 The fresh air of the morning had penetrated the 
 recess, and its influence was gradually felt on the 
 spirits of its inmates. As minute after minute 
 passed by, leaving them in undisturbed security, 
 the insinuating feeling of hope was gradually 
 gaining possession of every bosom, though each 
 one felt reluctant to give utterance to expecta- 
 tions that the next moment might so fearfully 
 destroy. 
 
 David alone formed an exception to these 
 varying emotions. A gleam of light from the 
 opening crossed his wan countenance, and fell 
 upon the pages of the little volume, whose leaves 
 he was again occupied in turning, as if searching 
 for some song more fitted to their condition than 
 any that had yet met his eye. He was, most 
 probably, acting all this time under a confused 
 recollection of the promised consolation of Dun- 
 can. At length, it would seem, his patient indus- 
 try found its reward ; for, without explanation or 
 apology, he pronounced aloud the words “Isle of 
 Wight,” drew a long, sweet sound from his pitch- 
 pipe, and then ran through the preliminary modu- 
 lations of the air, whose name he had just men- 
 tioned, with the sweeter tones of his own musical 
 voice. 
 
 “ May not this prove dangerous ? ” asked 
 Cora, glancing her dark eye at Major Heyward. 
 
 “ Poor fellow ! his voice is too feeble to be 
 heard amid the din of the falls,” was the answer ; 
 “ besides, the cavern will prove his friend. Let 
 him indulge his passion, since it may be done 
 without hazard.” 
 
 “Isle of Wight!” repeated David, looking 
 about him with that dignity with which he had 
 i long been wont to silence the whispering echoes 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 12 
 
 of his school ; “ ’tis a brave tune, and set to sol- 
 emn words ; let it be sung with meet respect ! 
 
 After allowing a moment of stillness to enforce 
 his discipline, the voice of the singer was heard, 
 in low, murmuring syllables, gradually stealing on 
 the ear, until it filled the narrow vault with 
 sounds rendered trebly thrilling by the feeble and 
 tremulous utterance produced by his debility. 
 The melody, which no weakness could destroy, 
 gradually wrought its sweet influence on the 
 senses of those who heard it. It even prevailed 
 over the miserable travesty of the song of David 
 which the singer had selected from a volume of 
 similar effusions, and caused the sense to be for- 
 gotten in the insinuating harmony of the sounds. 
 Alice unconsciously dried her tears, and bent her 
 melting eyes on the pallid features of Gamut, 
 with an expression of chastened delight that she 
 neither affected nor wished to conceal. Cora be- 
 stowed an approving smile on the pious efforts of 
 the namesake of the Jewish prince, and Heyward 
 soon turned his steady, stern look from the outlet 
 of the cavern, to fasten it, with a milder charac- 
 ter, on the face of David, or to meet the wander- 
 ing beams which at moments strayed from the 
 humid eyes of Alice. The open sympathy of the 
 listeners stirred the spirit of the votary of music, 
 whose voice regained its richness and volume, 
 without losing that touching softness which proved 
 its secret charm. Exerting his renovated powers 
 to their utmost, he was yet filling the arches of 
 the cave with long and full tones, when a yell 
 burst into the air without, that instantly stilled 
 his pious strains, choking his voice suddenly, as 
 though his heart had literally bounded into the 
 passage of his throat. 
 
 “We are lost!” exclaimed Alice, throwing 
 herself into the arms of Cora. 
 
 “Not yet, not yet,” returned the agitated but 
 undaunted Heyward ; “ the sound came from the 
 centre of the island, and it has been produced by 
 the sight of their dead companions. We are not 
 yet discovered, and there is still hope.” 
 
 Faint and almost despairing as was the pros- 
 pect of escape, the words of Duncan were not 
 thrown away, for it awakened the powers of the 
 sisters in such a manner that they awaited the 
 result in silence. A second yell soon followed 
 the first, when a rush of voices was heard pour- 
 ing down the island, from its upper to its lower 
 extremity, until they reached the naked rock 
 above the caverns, where, after a shout of savage 
 triumph, the air continued full of horrible cries 
 and screams, such as man alone can utter, and he 
 only when in a state of the fiercest barbarity. 
 
 The sounds quickly spread around them in 
 
 every direction. Some called to their fellows from 
 the water’s edge, and were answered from the 
 heights above. Cries were heard in the startling 
 vicinity of the chasm between the two caves, 
 which mingled with hoarser yells that arose out 
 of the abyss of the deep ravine. In short, so 
 rapidly had the savage sounds diffused themselves 
 over the barren rock, that it was not difficult for 
 the anxious listeners to imagine they could be 
 heard beneath, as in truth they were above, and 
 on every side of them. 
 
 In the midst of this tumult, a triumphant yell 
 was raised within a few yards of the hidden 'en- 
 trance to the cave. Heyward abandoned every 
 hope, with the belief it was the signal that they 
 were discovered. Again the impression passed 
 away, as he heard the voices collect near the spot 
 where the white man had so reluctantly abandoned 
 his rifle. Amid the jargon of the Indian dialects 
 that he now plainly heard, it was easy to distin- 
 guish not only words, but sentences, in the patois 
 of the Canadas* A burst of voices had shouted 
 simultaneously, “ La longue Carabine ! ” causing 
 the opposite woods to reecho with a name which, 
 Heyward well remembered, had been given by his 
 enemies to a celebrated hunter and scout of the 
 English camp, and who, he now learned for the 
 first time, had been his late companion. 
 
 “ La longue Carabine ! la longue Carabine ! ” 
 passed from mouth to mouth, until the whole band 
 appeared to be collected around a trophy which 
 would seem to announce the death of its formi- 
 dable owner. After a vociferous consultation, 
 which was, at times, deafened by bursts of savage 
 joy, they again separated, filling the air with the 
 name of a foe, whose body, Heyward could col- 
 lect from their expressions, they hoped to find 
 concealed in some crevice of the island. 
 
 “ Now,” he whispered to the trembling sisters, 
 “ now is the moment of uncertainty ! if our place 
 of retreat escape this scrutiny, we are still safe ! 
 In every event, we are assured, by what has fallen 
 from our enemies, that our friends have escaped, 
 and in two short hours we may look for succor 
 from Webb.” 
 
 There were now a few minutes of fearful still- 
 ness, during which Heyward well knew that the 
 savages conducted their search with greater vigi- 
 lance and methods More than once he could dis- 
 tinguish their footsteps, as they brushed the sas- 
 safras, causing the faded leaves to rustle, and the 
 branches to snap. At length, the pile yielded a 
 little, a corner of a blanket fell, and a faint raj 
 of light gleamed into the inner part of the cave. 
 Cora folded Alice to her bosom in agony, and 
 Duncan sprang to his feet A shout was at that 
 
ON THE TRACK OF THE REFUGEES. 
 
 43 
 
 moment heard, as if issuing from the centre of 
 the rock, announcing that the neighboring cavern 
 had at length been entered. In a minute, the 
 number and loudness of the voices indicated that 
 the whole party was collected in and around that 
 secret place. 
 
 As the inner passages to the two caves were 
 so close to each other, Duncan, believing that es- 
 cape was no longer possible, passed David and 
 the sisters, to place himself between the latter 
 and the first onset of the terrible meeting. Grown 
 desperate by his situation, he drew nigh the slight 
 barrier which separated him only by a few feet 
 from his relentless pursuers, and, placing his face 
 to the casual opening, he even looked out, with a 
 sort of desperate indifference, on their movements. 
 
 Within reach of his arm was the brawny 
 shoulder of a gigantic Indian, whose deep and 
 authoritative voice appeared to give directions to 
 the proceedings of his fellows. Beyond him 
 again, Duncan could look into the vault opposite, 
 which was filled with savages, upturning and 
 rifling the humble furniture of the scout. The 
 wound of David had dyed the leaves of sassafras 
 with a color that the natives well knew was antici- 
 pating the season. Over this sign of their suc- 
 cess, they set up a howl, like an opening from so 
 many hounds who had recovered a lost trail. 
 After this yell of victory, they tore up the fra- 
 grant bed of the cavern, and bore the branches 
 into the chasm, scattering the boughs, as if they 
 suspected them of concealing the person of the 
 man they had so long hated and feared. One fierce 
 and wild-looking warrior approached the chief, 
 bearing a load of the brush, and pointing, exulting- 
 ly, to the deep-red stains with which it was 
 sprinkled, uttered his joy in Indian yells, whose 
 meaning Heyward was only enabled to compre- 
 hend by the frequent repetition of the name of 
 “ La longue Carabine ! ” When his triumph had 
 ceased, he cast the brush on the slight heap that 
 Duncan had made before the entrance of the sec- 
 ond cavern, and closed the view. His example 
 was followed by others, who, as they drew the 
 branches from the cave of the scout, threw them 
 into one pile, adding, unconsciously, to the se- 
 curity of those they sought. The very slightness 
 of the defence was its chief merit, for no one 
 thought of disturbing a mass of brush, which all of 
 them believed, in that moment of hurry and con- 
 fusion, had been accidentally raised by the hands 
 of their own party. 
 
 As the blankets yielded before the outward 
 pressure, and the branches settled in the fissure 
 of the rock by their own weight, forming a com- 
 pact body, Duncan once more breathed freely. 
 
 With a light step, and lighter heart, he returned 
 to the centre of the cave, and took the place he 
 had left, where he could command a view of the 
 opening next the river. While he was in the act 
 of making this movement, the Indians, as if 
 changing their purpose by a common impulse, 
 broke away from the chasm in a body, and were 
 heard rushing up the island again, toward the 
 point whence they had originally descended. 
 Here another wailing cry betrayed that they 
 were again collected around the bodies of their 
 dead comrades. 
 
 Duncan now ventured to look at his compan- 
 ions ; for, during the most critical moments of 
 their danger, he had been apprehensive that the 
 anxiety of his countenance might communicate 
 some additional alarm to those who were so little 
 able to sustain it. 
 
 “ They are gone, Cora ! ” he whispered ; “Alice, 
 they are returned whence they came, and we are 
 saved ! To Heaven, that has alone delivered us 
 from the grasp of so merciless an enemy, be all 
 the praise ! ” 
 
 “ Then to Heaven will I return my thanks ! ” 
 exclaimed the younger sister, rising from the en- 
 circling arms of Cora, and casting herself with 
 enthusiastic gratitude on the naked rock; “to 
 that Heaven who has spared the tears of a gray- 
 headed father ; has saved the lives of those I so 
 much love — ” 
 
 Both Heyward, and the more tempered Cora, 
 witnessed the act of involuntary emotion with 
 powerful sympathy, the former secretly believing 
 that piety had never worn a form so lovely as it 
 had now assumed in the youthful person of Alice. 
 Her eyes were radiant with the glow of grateful 
 feelings ; the flush of her beauty was again seated 
 on her cheeks, and her whole soul seemed ready 
 and anxious to pour out its thanksgivings, through 
 the medium of her eloquent features. But when 
 her lips moved, the words they should have uttered 
 appeared frozen by some new and sudden chill. 
 Her bloom gave place to the paleness of death ; 
 her soft and melting eyes grew hard, and seemed 
 contracting with horror; while those hands, 
 which she had raised, clasped in each other, tow- 
 ard heaven, dropped in horizontal lines before 
 her, the fingers pointed forward in convulsed mo 
 tion. Heyward turned, the instant she gave a 
 direction to his suspicions, and, peering just 
 above the ledge which formed the threshold of 
 the open outlet of the cavern, he beheld the malig- 
 nant, fierce, and savage features of Le Renard 
 Subtil. 
 
 In that moment of surprise, the self-possession 
 of Heyward did not desert him. He observed by 
 
44 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 the vacant expression cf the Indian’s counte- 
 nance, that his eye, accustomed to the open air, 
 had not yet been able to penetrate the dusky 
 light which pervaded the depth of the cavern. He 
 had even thought of retreating beyond a curvature 
 in the natural wall, which might still conceal him 
 and his companions, when, by the sudden gleam 
 of intelligence that shot across the features of the 
 savage, he saw it was too late, and that they 
 were betrayed. 
 
 The lock of exultation and brutal triumph 
 which announced this terrible truth was irresisti- 
 bly irritating. Forgetful of every thing but the 
 impulses of his hot blood, Duncan levelled his 
 pistol and fired. The report of the weapon made 
 the cavern bellow like an eruption from a volcano ; 
 and when the smoke it vomited had been driven 
 away before the current of air which issued from 
 the ravine, the place so lately occupied by the 
 features of his treacherous guide was vacant. 
 Rushing to the outlet, Heyward caught a glimpse 
 of his dark figure, stealing around a low and nar- 
 row ledge, which soon hid him entirely from 
 sight. 
 
 Among the, savages, a frightful stillness suc- 
 ceeded the explosion, which had just been heard 
 bursting from the bowels of the rock. But 
 when Le Renard raised his voice in a long and 
 intelligible whoop, it was answered by a sponta- 
 neous yell from the mouth of every Indian within 
 hearing of the sound. The clamorous noises 
 again rushed down the island ; and, before Dun- 
 can had time to recover from the shock, his fee- 
 ble barrier of brush was scattered to the winds, 
 the cavern was entered at both its extremities, 
 and he and his companions were dragged from 
 their shelter and borne into the day, where they 
 stood surrounded by the whole band of the tri- 
 umphant Hurons. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 “I fear we shall outsleep the coming mom, 
 
 As much as we this night have overwatched 1 ” 
 
 Midsummer Night’s Dream. 
 
 The instant the shock of this sudden misfor- 
 tune had abated, Duncan began to make his ob- 
 servations on the appearance and proceedings of 
 their captors. Contrary to the usages of the 
 natives in the wantonness of their success, they 
 had respected, not only the persons of the trem- 
 bling sisters, but his own. The rich ornaments 
 of his military attire had indeed been repeatedly 
 candied by different individuals of the tribe with 
 
 eyes expressing a savage longing to possess the 
 bawbles ; but, before the customary violence could 
 be resorted to, a mandate in the authoritative voice 
 of the large warrior already mentioned, stayed 
 the uplifted hand, and convinced Heyward that 
 they were to be reserved for some object of par- 
 ticular moment. 
 
 While, however, these manifestations of weak- 
 ness were exhibited by the young and vain of the 
 party, the more experienced warriors continued 
 their search throughout both caverns, with an 
 activity that denoted they were far from being 
 satisfied with those fruits of their conquest which 
 had already been brought to light. Unable to 
 discover any new victim, these diligent workers 
 of vengeance soon approached their male prisoners, 
 pronouncing the name of “ La longue Carabine,” 
 with a fierceness that could not easily be mistaken. 
 Duncan affected not to comprehend the meaning 
 of their repeated and violent interrogatories, 
 while his companion was spared the effort of a 
 similar deception by his ignorance of French. 
 Wearied, at length, by their importunities, and 
 apprehensive of irritating his captors, by too stub- 
 born a silence, the former looked about him in 
 quest of Magua, who might interpret his answers 
 to questions which were, at each moment, becom- 
 ing more earnest and threatening. 
 
 The conduct of this savage had formed a soli- 
 tary exception to that of all his fellows. While 
 the others were busily occupied in seeking to 
 gratify their childish passion for finery, by plun- 
 dering even the miserable effects of the scout, or 
 had been searching, with such blood-thirsty ven 
 ance in their looks, for their absent owner, Le 
 Renard had stood at a little distance from the 
 prisoners, with a demeanor so quiet and satisfied, 
 as to betray that he had already effected the 
 grand purpose of his treachery. When the eyes 
 of Heyward first met those of his recent guide, he 
 turned them away in horror at the sinister though 
 calm look he encountered. Conquering his dis- 
 gust, however, he was able, with an averted face, 
 to address his successful enemy. 
 
 “ Le Renard Subtil is too much of a warrior,” 
 said the reluctant Heyward, “to refuse telling an 
 unarmed man what his conquerors say.” 
 
 “ They ask for the hunter who knows the 
 paths through the woods,” returned Magua, in 
 his broken English, laying his hand, at the sama 
 time, with a ferocious smile, on the bundle of 
 leaves with which a wound on his own shoulder was 
 bandaged. “ La longue Carabine ! his rifle is 
 good, and his eye never shut ; but, like the short 
 gun of the white chief, it is nothing against the 
 •life of Le Subtil 1 ” 
 
REAPPEARANCE OF MAGUA. 
 
 45 
 
 “Le Renard is too brave to remember the 
 hurts received in war, or the hands that gave 
 them ! ” 
 
 “ Was it war when the tired Indian rested at 
 the sugar-tree to taste his corn ! who filled the 
 bushes with creeping enemies ! who drew the 
 knife ! whose tongue was peace, while his heart 
 was colored with blood ! Did Magua say that 
 the hatchet was out of the ground, and that his 
 hand had dug it up ? ” 
 
 As Duncan dared not retort upon his accuser 
 by reminding him of his own premeditated treach- 
 ery, and disdained to deprecate his resentment by 
 any words of apology, he remained silent. Magua 
 seemed also content to rest the controversy as 
 well as all further communication there, for he 
 resumed the leaning attitude against the rock, 
 from which, in momentary energy he had arisen. 
 But the cry of “ La longue Carabine ” was re- 
 newed the instant the impatient savages perceived 
 that the short dialogue was ended. 
 
 “You hear,” said Magua, with stubborn indif- 
 ference ; “ the red Hurons call for the life of ‘ The 
 long Rifle,’ or they will have the blood of them 
 that keep him hid ! ” 
 
 “ He is gone — escaped ; he is far beyond 
 meir reach.” 
 
 Renard smiled with cold contempt, as he an- 
 swered : 
 
 “ When the white man dies, he thinks he is at 
 peace ; but the red men know how to torture even 
 the ghosts of their enemies. Where is his body ? 
 Let the Hurons see his scalp ! ” 
 
 “ He is not dead, but escaped.” 
 
 Magua shook his head incredulously. 
 
 “ Is he a bird, to spread his wings ; or is he 
 a fish, to swim without air ! The white chief 
 reads in his books, and he believes the Hurons 
 are fools ! ” 
 
 “ Though no fish, ‘ The long Rifle ’ can swim. 
 He floated down the stream when the powder was 
 all burnt, and when the eyes of the Hurons were 
 behind a cloud.” 
 
 “ And why did the white chief stay ? ” de- 
 manded the still incredulous Indian. “ Is he a 
 stone that goes to the bottom, or does the scalp 
 burn his head ? ” 
 
 “ That I am not a stone, your dead comrade, 
 who fell into the falls, might answer, were the life 
 still in him,” said the provoked young man, using, 
 in his anger, that boastful language which was 
 most likely to excite the admiration of an Indian. 
 “ The white man thinks none but cowards desert 
 their women.” 
 
 Magua muttered a few words, inaudiblv, be- 
 tween his teeth, before he continued, aloud : 
 
 “ Can the Delawares swim, too, as well as 
 crawl in the bushes ? Where? is ‘ Le gros Ser- 
 pent ? ’ ” 
 
 Duncan, who perceived by the use of these 
 Canadian appellations, that his late companions 
 were much better known to his enemies than to 
 himself, answered, reluctantly, “ He also is gone 
 down with the water.” 
 
 “ ‘ Le Cerf agile ’ is not here ? ” 
 
 “I know not whom you call ‘The nimble 
 Deer,’ ” said Duncan, gladly profiting by any ex- 
 cuse to create delay. 
 
 “ Uncas,” returned Magua, pronouncing the 
 Delaware name with even greater difficulty than 
 he spoke his English words. “ ‘ Bounding Elk ’ 
 is what the white man says, when he calls to the 
 Young Mohican.” 
 
 “ Here is some confusion in names between 
 us, Le Renard,” said Duncan, hoping to provoke 
 a discussion. “ Daim is the French for deer, and 
 cerf for stag ; elan is the true term, when one 
 would speak of an elk. r: 
 
 “Yes,” muttered the Indian, in his native 
 tongue; “the pale-faces are prattling women! 
 they have two words for each thing, while a red- 
 skin will make the sound of his voice speak for 
 him.” Then changing his language, he continued, 
 adhering to the imperfect nomenclature of hia 
 provincial instructors : “ The deer is swift, but 
 weak ; the elk is swift, but strong ; and the son 
 of ‘ Le Serpent ’ is ‘ Le Cerf agile.’ Has he leaped 
 the river to the woods ? ” 
 
 “If you mean the younger Delaware, he too 
 is gone down with the water.” 
 
 As there was nothing improbable to an Indian 
 in the manner of the escape, Magua admitted the 
 truth of what he had heard, with a readiness 
 that afforded additional evidence how little he 
 would prize such worthless captives. With his 
 companions, however, the feeling was manifestly 
 different. 
 
 The Hurons had awaited the result of this 
 short dialogue with characteristic patience, and 
 with a silence that increased until there was a 
 general stillness in the band. When Heyward 
 ceased to speak, they turned their eyes, as one 
 man, on Magua, demanding, in this expressive 
 manner, an explanation of what had been said 
 Their interpreter pointed to the river and madt 
 them acquainted with the result, as much by thfl 
 action as by the few words he uttered. When 
 the fact was generally understood, the savages 
 raised a frightful yell, which declared the extent 
 of their disappointment. Some ran furiously to 
 the water’s edge, beating the air with frantic ges- 
 tures, while others spat upon the element, to r& 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 *6 
 
 cent the supposed treason it had committed against 
 their acknowledged rights as conquerors. A few, 
 and they not the least powerful and terrific of the 
 band, threw lowering looks, in which the fiercest 
 passion was only tempered by habitual self-com- 
 mand, at those captives who still remained in 
 their power ; while one or two even gave vent to 
 their malignant feelings by the most menacing 
 gestures, against which neither the sex nor the 
 beauty of the sisters was any protection. The 
 young soldier made a desperate but fruitless ef- 
 fort to spring to the side of Alice, when he saw 
 the dark hand of a savage twisted in the rich 
 tresses which were flowing in volumes over her 
 shoulders, while a knife was passed around the 
 head from which they fell, as if to denote the 
 horrid manner in which it was about to be robbed 
 of its beautiful ornament. But his hands were 
 bound ; and at the first movement he made, he 
 felt the grasp of the powerful Indian who direct- 
 ed the band, pressing his shoulder like a vice. 
 Immediately conscious how unavailing any strug- 
 gle against such an overwhelming force must 
 prove, he submitted to his fate, encouraging his 
 gentle companions by a few low and tender assur- 
 ances, that the natives seldom failed to threaten 
 more than they performed. 
 
 But, while Duncan resorted to these words 
 of consolation to quiet the apprehensions of the 
 sisters, he was not so weak as to deceive himself. 
 He well knew that the authority of an Indian 
 chief was so little conventional, that it was oftener 
 maintained by physical superiority than by any 
 moral supremacy he might possess. The danger 
 was, therefore, magnified exactly in proportion 
 to the number of the savage spirits by which 
 they were surrounded. The most positive man- 
 date from him who seemed the acknowledged 
 leader, was liable to be violated at each moment, 
 by any rash hand that might choose to sacrifice 
 a victim to the manes of some dead friend or 
 relative. While, therefore, he sustained an out- 
 ward appearance of calmness and fortitude, his 
 heart leaped into his throat, whenever any of 
 their fierce captors drew nearer than common to 
 the helpless sisters, or fastened one of their sul- 
 len wandering looks on those fragile forms which 
 were so little able to resist the slightest assault. 
 
 His apprehensions were, however, greatly re- 
 lieved when he saw that the leader had summoned 
 his warriors to himself in council. Their de- 
 liberations were short, and it would seem, by the 
 silence of most of the party, the decision unani- 
 mous. By the frequency with which the few 
 speakers pointed in the direction of the encamp- 
 ment of Webb, it was apparent they dreaded the 
 
 approach of danger from that quarter. This con- 
 sideration probably hastened their determina- 
 tion, and quickened the subsequent movements. 
 
 During this short conference, Heyward, find- 
 ing a respite from his greatest fears, had leisure | 
 to admire the cautious manner in which the Hu- 
 rons had made their approaches, even after hos- 
 tilities had ceased. 
 
 It has already been stated that the upper 
 half of the island was a naked rock, and desti- 
 tute of any other defences than a few scattered 
 logs of drift-wood. They had selected this point 
 to make their descent, having borne the canoe 
 through the wood around the cataract for that 
 purpose. Placing their arms in the little vessel, 
 a dozen men, clinging to its sides, had trusted 
 themselves to the direction of the canoe, which 
 was controlled by two of the most skilful warriors, 
 in attitudes that enabled them to command a 
 view of the dangerous passage. Favored by this 
 arrangement, they touched the head of the island 
 at that point which had proved so fatal to their 
 first adventurers, but with the advantages of 
 superior numbers, and the possession of fire-arms. 
 That such had been the manner of their descent, 
 was rendered quite apparent to Duncan ; for they 
 now bore the light bark from the upper end of 
 the rock, and placed it in the water near the 
 mouth of the outer cavern. As soon as this 
 change was made, the leader made signs to the 
 prisoners to descend and enter. 
 
 As resistance was impossible, and remon- 
 strance useless, Heyward set the example of sub- 
 mission by leading the way into the canoe, where 
 he was soon seated with the sisters and the still 
 wondering David. Notwithstanding the Hurons 
 were necessarily ignorant of the little channels 
 among the eddies and rapids of the stream, they 
 knew the common signs of such a navigation too 
 well to commit any material blunder. When the 
 pilot, chosen for the task of guiding the canoe, 
 had taken his station, the whole band plunged 
 again into the river, the vessel glided down the 
 current, and in a few moments the captives found 
 themselves on the south bank of the stream, 
 nearly opposite to the point where they had 
 struck it the preceding evening. 
 
 Here was held another short but earnest con- 
 sultation, during which the horses, to whose panic 
 their owners ascribed their heaviest misfortune 
 were led from the cover of the wobds, and 
 brought to the sheltered spot. The band now 
 divided. The great chief so often mentioned, 
 mounting the charger of Heyward, led the way 
 directly across the river, followed by most of his 
 people, and disappeared in the woods, leaving the 
 
 
CAPTURE OF HEYWARD AND HIS PARTY. 
 
 47 
 
 prisoners in charge of six savages, at whose head 
 was Le Renard Subtil. Duncan witnessed all 
 their movements with renewed uneasiness. 
 
 He had been fond of believing, from the un- 
 common forbearance of the savages, that he was 
 reserved as a prisoner to be delivered to Mont- 
 calm. As the thoughts of those who are in 
 misery seldom slumber, and the invention is 
 never more lively than when it is stimulated by 
 hope, however feeble and remote, he had even 
 imagined that the parental feelings of Munro 
 were to be made instrumental in seducing him 
 from his duty to the king. For, though the 
 French commander bore a high character for 
 courage and enterprise, hs was also thought to 
 be expert in those political practices which do 
 not always respect the nicer obligations of mo- 
 rality, and which so generally disgraced the 
 European diplomacy of that period. 
 
 All those busy and ingenious speculations 
 were now annihilated by the conduct of his cap- 
 tors. That portion of the band who had followed 
 the huge warrior, took the route toward the foot 
 of the Horican, and no other expectation was 
 left for himself and companions than that they 
 were to be retained as hopeless captives by their 
 savage conquerors. Anxious to know the worst, 
 and willing, in such an emergency, to try the 
 potency of gold, he overcame his reluctance to 
 speak to Magua. Addressing himself to his 
 former guide, who had now assumed the authority 
 and manner of one who was to direct the future 
 movements of the party, he said, in tones as 
 friendly and confiding as he could assume : 
 
 “ I would speak to Magua what is fit only for 
 so great a chief to hear.” 
 
 The Indian turned his eyes on the young 
 soldier scornfully, as he answered : 
 
 “ Speak ; trees have no ears ! ” 
 
 “ But the red Hurons are not deaf ; and coun- 
 sel that is fit for the great men of a nation would 
 make the young warriors drunk. If Magua will 
 not listen, the officer of the king knows how to 
 be silent.” 
 
 The savage spoke carelessly to his comrades, 
 who were busied, after their awkward manner, in 
 preparing the horses for the reception of the 
 sisters, and moved a little to one side, whither, by 
 a cautious gesture, he induced Heyward to fol- 
 low. 
 
 “ Now speak,” he said ; “ if the words are 
 such as Magua should hear.” 
 
 “ Le Renard Subtil has proved himself worthy 
 of the honorable name given to him by his 
 Canada fathers,” commenced Heyward ; “ I see 
 his wisdom, and all that he has done for us, and 
 19 
 
 shall remember it when the hour to reward him 
 arrives. Yes ! Renard has proved thafrhe is not 
 only a great chief in council, but one who knows 
 how to deceive his enemies 1 ” 
 
 “ What has Renard done ? ” coldly demanded 
 the Indian. 
 
 “What! has he not seen that the woods 
 were filled with outlying parties of the enemies, 
 and that the serpent could not steal through 
 them without being seen ? Then, did he not lose 
 his path to blind the eyes of the Hurons ? Did 
 he not pretend to go back to his tribe, who had 
 treated him ill and driven him from their wig- 
 wams like a dog ? And, when we saw what he 
 wished to do, did we not aid him by making a 
 false face, that the Hurons might think the white 
 man believed that his friend was his enemy ? Is 
 not all this true ? And when Le Subtil had shut 
 the eyes and stopped the ears of his nation by his 
 wisdom, did they not forget that they had once 
 done him wrong, and forced him to flee to the 
 Mohawks ? And did they not leave him on the 
 south side of the river, with their prisoners, 
 while they have gone foolishly on the north? 
 Does not Renard mean to turn like a fox on his 
 footsteps, and carry to the rich and gray-headed 
 Scotchman his daughters ? Yes, Magua, I see it 
 all, and I have already been thinking how so 
 much wisdom and honesty should be repaid. 
 First, the chief of William Henry will give as a 
 great chief should for such a service. The 
 medal * of Magua will no longer be of tin, but 
 of beaten gold ; his horn will run over with pow- 
 der ; dollars will be as plenty in his pouch as 
 pebbles on the shore of Horican ; and the deer 
 will lick his hand, for they will know it to be 
 vain to fly from the rifle he will carry ! As for 
 myself, I know not how to exceed the gratitude 
 of the Scotchman, but I — yes, I will — ” 
 
 “ What will the young chief who comes from 
 toward the sun, give ? ” demanded the Huron, 
 observing that Heyward hesitated in his desire to 
 end the enumeration of benefits with that which 
 might form the climax of an Indian’s wishes. 
 
 “He will make the fire-water from the islands 
 in the salt lake flow before the wigwam of Magua 
 until the heart of the Indian shall be lighter than 
 the feathers of the humming-bird, and his breath 
 sweeter than the wild honeysuckle.” 
 
 Le Renard had listened gravely as Heyward 
 
 * It has long been a practice with the whites to cone; ft- 
 ate the important men of the Indians by presenting med- 
 als, which are worn in the place of their own rude orna- 
 ments. Those given by the English generally bear the 
 impression of the reigning king, and those given by the 
 Americans that of the president. 
 
48 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 slowly proceeded in this subtle speech. When 
 the young man mentioned the artifice he sup- 
 posed the Indian to have practised on his own 
 nation, the countenance of the listener was veiled 
 in an expression of cautious gravity. At the al- 
 lusion to the injury which Duncan affected to be- 
 lieve had driven the Huron from his native tribe, 
 a gleam of such ungovernable ferocity flashed 
 from the other’s eyes, as induced the adventurous 
 speaker to believe he had struck the proper 
 chord. And by the time he reached the part 
 where he so artfully blended the thirst of ven- 
 geance with the desire of gain, he had, at least, 
 obtained a command of the deepest attention of 
 the savage. The question put by Le Renard had 
 been calm, and with all the dignity of an Indian ; 
 but it was quite apparent, by the thoughtful ex- 
 pression of the listener’s countenance, that the 
 answer was most cunningly devised. The Huron 
 mused a few moments, and then, laying his hand 
 on the rude bandages of his wounded shoulder, 
 he said, with some energy : 
 
 “ Do friends make such marks ? ” 
 
 “ Would ‘ La longue Carabine ’ cut one so 
 light on an enemy ? ” 
 
 “Do the Delawares crawl upon those they 
 love like snakes, twisting themselves to strike ? ” 
 
 “ Would ‘ Le gros Serpent ’ have been heard 
 by the ears of on® he wished to be deaf ? ” 
 
 “ Does the white chief burn his powder in the 
 faces of his brothers ? ” 
 
 “ Does he ever miss his aim, when seriously 
 bent to kill ? ” returned Duncan, smiling with 
 well-aoted sincerity. 
 
 Another long and deliberate pause succeeded 
 these sententious questions and ready replies. 
 Duncan saw that the Indian hesitated. In order 
 to complete his victory, he was in the act of re- 
 commencing the enumeration of the rewards, 
 when Magua made an expressive gesture and said : 
 
 “ Enough ; Le Renard is a wise chief, and 
 what he does will be seen. Go and keep the 
 mouth shut. When Magua speaks, it will be the 
 time to answer.” 
 
 Heyward, perceiving that the eyes of his com- 
 panion were warily fastened on the rest of the 
 band, fell back immediately, in order to avoid the 
 appearance of any suspicious confederacy with 
 their leader. Magua approached the horses, and 
 affected to be well pleased with the diligence and 
 ingenuity of his comrades. He then signed to 
 Heyward to assist the sisters into the saddles, for 
 he seldom deigned to use the English tongue, un- 
 »ees urged by some motive of more than usual 
 moment. 
 
 There was no longer any plausible pretext for 
 
 delay ; and Duncan was obliged, however reluo. 
 tantly, to comply. As he performed this office, 
 he whispered his reviving hopes in the ears of 
 the trembling females, who, through dread of en- 
 countering the savage countenances of their cap- 
 tors, seldom raised their eyes from the ground* 
 The mare of David had been taken with the fol 
 lowers of the large chief ; in consequence its owner, 
 as well as Duncan, were compelled to journey on 
 foot. The latter did not, however, so much re- 
 gret this circumstance, as it might enable him to 
 retard the speed of the party ; for he still turned 
 his longing looks in the direction of Fort Edward, 
 in the vain expectation of catching some sound 
 from that quarter of the forest, which might de- 
 note the approach of succor. 
 
 When all were prepared, Magua made the sig- 
 nal to proceed, advancing in front to lead the 
 party in person. Next followed David, who was 
 gradually coming to a true sense of his condition, 
 as the effects of the wound became less and less 
 apparent. The sisters rode in his rear, with Hey- 
 ward at their side, while the Indians flanked the 
 party, and brought up the close of the march, 
 with a caution that seemed never to tire. 
 
 In this manner they proceeded in uninter- 
 rupted silence, except when Heyward addressed 
 some solitary word of comfort to the females, or 
 David gave vent to the moanings of his spirit, in 
 piteous exclamations, which he intended should 
 express the humility of resignation. Their direc- 
 tion lay toward the south, and in a course nearly 
 opposite to the road to William Henry. Notwith- 
 standing this apparent adherence in Magua to the 
 original determination of his conquerors, Heyward 
 could not believe his tempting baft was so soon 
 forgotten ; and he knew the windings of an In- 
 dian path too well to suppose that its apparent 
 course led directly to its object, when artifice was 
 at all necessary. Mile after mile was, however, 
 passed through the boundless woods in this pain- 
 ful manner, without any prospect of a termination 
 to their journey. Heyward watched the sun, as 
 he darted his meridian rays through the branches 
 of the trees, and pined for the moment when the 
 policy of Magua should change their route to one 
 more favorable to his hopes. Sometimes he fan- 
 cied the wary savage, despairing of passing the 
 army of Montcalm in safety, was holding his way 
 toward a well-known border-settlement, where a 
 distinguished officer of the crown, and a favored 
 friend of the Six Nations, held his large posses- 
 sions, as well as his usual residence. To be de- 
 livered into the hands of Sir William Johnson, 
 was far preferable to being led into the wilds of 
 Canada ; but in order to effect even the former, 
 
FALSE HOPES OF SAFETY. 
 
 49 
 
 ft would be necessary to traverse the forest for 
 many weary leagues, each step of which was car- 
 rying him farther from the scene of the war, and 
 consequently from the post, not only of honor, 
 but of duty. 
 
 Cora alone remembered the parting injunc- 
 tions of the scout, and, whenever an opportunity 
 offered, she stretched forth her arm to bend aside 
 the twigs that met her hands. But the vigilance 
 of the Indians rendered this act of precaution 
 both difficult and dangerous. She was often 
 defeated in her purpose, by encountering their 
 watchful eyes, when it became necessary to feign 
 an alarm she did not feel, and occupy the limb 
 by some gesture of feminine apprehension. Once, 
 and once only, was she completely successful ; 
 when she broke down the bough of a large su- 
 mach, and, by a sudden thought, let her glove 
 fall at the same instant. This sign, intended for 
 those that might follow, was observed by one of 
 her conductors, who restored the glove, broke 
 the remaining branches of the bush in such a 
 manner that it appeared to proceed from the 
 struggling of some beast in its branches, and 
 then laid his hand on his tomahawk, with a look 
 so significant that it put an effectual end to these 
 stolen memorials of their passage. 
 
 As there were horses, to leave the prints of 
 their footsteps, in both bands of the Indians, this 
 interruption cut off any probable hopes of assist- 
 ance being conveyed through the means of their 
 trail. 
 
 Heyward would have ventured a remonstrance, 
 had there been any thing encouraging in the 
 gloomy reserve of Magua. But the savage, dur- 
 ing all this time, seldom turned to look at his 
 followers, and never spoke. With the sun for 
 his only guide, or aided by such blind marks as 
 are only known to the sagacity of a native, he 
 held his way along the barrens of pine, through 
 occasional little fertile vales, across brooks and 
 rivulets, and over undulating hills, with the ac- 
 curacy of instinct, and nearly with the directness 
 of a bird. He never seemed to hesitate. Whether 
 the path was hardly distinguishable, whether it 
 disappeared, or whether it lay beaten and plain 
 before him, made no sensible difference in his 
 speed or certainty. It seemed as if fatigue could 
 not affect him. Whenever the eyes of the wearied 
 travellers rose from the decayed leaves over which 
 they trod, his dark form was to be seen glan- 
 cing among the stems of the trees in front, his 
 head immovably fastened in a forward position, 
 with the light plume on his crest fluttering in a 
 current of air made solely by the swiftness of 
 his own motion. 
 
 But all this diligence and speed were not with- 
 out an object. After crossing a low vale, through 
 which a gushing brook meandered, he suddenly 
 ascended a hill, so steep and difficult of ascent, 
 that the sisters were compelled to alight, in order 
 to follow. When the summit was gained, they 
 found themselves on a level spot, but thinly 
 covered with trees, under one of which Magua 
 had thrown his dark form, as if willing and ready 
 to seek that rest which was so much needed by 
 the whole party. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ■“ Cursed be my tribe 
 
 If I forgive him ! ” Shtlock. 
 
 The Indian had selected, for this desirable 
 purpose, one of those steep, pyramidal hills, which 
 bear a strong resemblance to artificial mounds, 
 and which so frequently occur in the valleys of 
 America. The one in question was high and 
 precipitous ; its top flattened as usual ; but with 
 one of its sides more than ordinarily irregular. 
 It possessed no other apparent advantage, for a 
 resting-place, than in its elevation and form, 
 which might render defence easy, and surprise 
 nearly impossible. As Heyward, however, no 
 longer expected that rescue which time and dis. 
 tance now rendered so improbable, he regarded 
 these little peculiarities with an eye devoid of 
 interest, devoting himself entirely to the comfort 
 and condolence of his feebler companions. The 
 Narragansets were suffered to browse on the 
 branches of the trees and shrubs that were thin- 
 ly scattered over the summit of the hill, while 
 the remains of their provisions were spread un- 
 der the shade of a beech, that stretched its hori- 
 zontal limbs like a canopy above them. 
 
 Notwithstanding the swiftness of their flight, 
 one of the Indians had found an opportunity to 
 strike a straggling fawn with an arrow, and had 
 borne the more preferable fragments of the vic- 
 tim, patiently on his shoulders, to the stopping- 
 place. Without any aid from the science of 
 cookery, he was immediately employed, in com- 
 mon with his fellows, in gorging himself with this 
 digestible sustenance. Magua alone sat apart, 
 without participating in the revolting meal, and 
 apparently buried in the deepest thought. 
 
 This abstinence, so remarkable in an Indian, 
 when he possessed the means of satisfying hun. 
 ger, at length attracted the notice of Heyward. 
 The young man willingly believed that the Huron 
 deliberated on the most eligible manner of elua 
 
 4 
 
50 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 Ing the vigilance of his associates. With a view 
 to assist his plans, by any suggestion of his own, 
 and to strengthen the temptation, he left the 
 beech, and straggled, as if without an object, to 
 the spot where Le Renard was seated. 
 
 “Has not Magua kept the sun in his face 
 long enough to escape all danger from the Ca- 
 nadians ? ” he asked, as though no longer 
 doubtful of the good intelligence established be- 
 tween them ; “ and will not the chief of William 
 Henry be better pleased to see his daughters be- 
 fore another night may have hardened his heart 
 to their loss, to make him less liberal in his re- 
 ward ? ” 
 
 “ Do the pale-faces love their children less in 
 the morning than at night ? ” asked the Indian, 
 coldly. 
 
 “ By no means,” returned Heyward, anxious 
 to recall his error, if he had made one ; “ the 
 white man may, and does, often forget the burial- 
 place of his fathers ; he sometimes ceases to re- 
 member those he should love, and has promised 
 to cherish ; but the affection of a parent for his 
 child is never permitted to die.” 
 
 “ And is the heart of the white-headed chief 
 soft, and will he think of the babes that his 
 Bquaws have given him ? He is hard to his war- 
 riors, and his eyes are made of stone ! ” 
 
 “ He is severe to the idle and wicked, but to 
 the sober and deserving he is a leader, both just 
 and humane. I have known many fond and ten- 
 der parents, but never have I seen a man whose 
 heart was softer toward his child. You have seen 
 the gray-head in front of his warriors, Magua ; 
 but I have seen his eyes swimming in water, 
 when he spoke of those children who are now in 
 your power ! ” 
 
 Heyward paused, for he knew not how to 
 construe the remarkable expression that gleamed 
 across the swarthy features of the attentive In- 
 dian. At first it seemed as if the remembrance 
 of the promised reward grew vivid in his mind, 
 while he listened to the sources of parental feel- 
 ing which were to assure its possession ; but as 
 Duncan proceeded, the expression of joy became 
 so fiercely malignant, that it was impossible not 
 to apprehend it proceeded from some passion 
 more sinister than avarice. 
 
 “ Go,” said the Huron, suppressing the alarm- 
 ing exhibition in an instant, in a death-like calm- 
 ness of countenance ; “ go to the dark-haired 
 daughter, and say, Magua waits to speak. The 
 father will remember what the child promises.” 
 
 Duncan, who interpreted this speech to ex- 
 press a wish for some additional pledge that the 
 promised gifts should not be withheld, slowly 
 
 and reluctantly repaired to the place where the 
 sisters were now resting from their fatigue, to 
 communicate its purport to Cora. 
 
 “You understand the nature of an Indian’s 
 wishes,” he concluded, as he led her toward the 
 place where she was expected, “ and must be 
 prodigal of your offers of powder and blankets. 
 Ardent spirits are, however, the most prized by 
 such as he ; nor would it be amiss to add some 
 boon from your own hand, with that grace you so 
 well know how to practise. Remember, Cora, 
 that on your presence of mind and ingenuity even 
 your life, as well as that of Alice, may in some 
 measure depend.” 
 
 “ Heyward, and yours ! ” 
 
 “ Mine is of little moment ; it is already sold 
 to my king, and is a prize to be seized by any 
 enemy who may possess the power. I have no 
 father to expect me, and but few friends to la- 
 ment a fate which I have courted with the unsa- 
 lable longings of youth after distinction. But 
 hush ! we approach the Indian. — Magua, the lady 
 with whom you wish to speak, is here.” 
 
 The Indian rose slowly from his seat, and 
 stood for near a minute silent and motionless. 
 He then signed with his hand for Heyward to re- 
 tire, saying coldly : 
 
 “ When the Huron talks to the women, his 
 tribe shut their ears.” 
 
 Duncan, still lingering, as if refusing to com- 
 ply, Cora said, with a calm smile : 
 
 “You hear, Heyward, and delicacy at least 
 should urge you to retire. Go to Alice, and com- 
 fort her with our reviving prospects.” 
 
 She waited until he had departed, and then 
 turning to the native, with the dignity of her sex 
 in her voice and manner, she added, “What 
 would Le Renard say to the daughter of Mun- 
 ro? ” 
 
 “Listen,” said the Indian, laying his hand 
 firmly upon her arm, as if willing to draw her ut- 
 most attention to his words ; a movement that 
 Cora as firmly but quietly repulsed, by extricating 
 the limb from his grasp — “Magua was born a 
 chief and a warrior among the red Hurons of the 
 lakes ; he saw the suns of twenty summers make 
 the snows of twenty winters run off in the streams, 
 before he saw a pale-face ; and he was happy ! 
 Then his Canada fathers came into the woods, 
 and taught him to drink the fire-water, and be 
 became a rascal. The Hurons drove him from 
 the graves of his fathers, as they would chase the 
 hunted buffalo. He ran down the shores of the 
 lakes, and followed their outlet to the ‘ city of 
 cannon.’ There he hunted and fished, till the 
 people chased him again through the woods into 
 
THE HURON CHIEF’S PROPOSAL. 
 
 51 
 
 the arms of his enemies. The chief, who was 
 boru a Huron, was at last a warrior among the 
 Mohawks ! ” 
 
 “ Something like this I had heard before,’’ 
 said Cora, observing that he paused to suppress 
 those passions which began to burn with too 
 bright a flame, as he recalled the recollection of 
 his supposed injuries. 
 
 “ Was it the fault of Le Renard that his head 
 was not made of rock ? Who gave him the fire- 
 water ? who made him a villain ? ’Twas the pale- 
 faces, the people of your own color.” 
 
 “ And am I answerable that thoughtless and 
 unprincipled men exist, whose shades of counte- 
 nance may resemble mine ? ” Cora calmly de- 
 manded of the excited savage. 
 
 “No ; Magua is a man, and not a fool ; such 
 as you never open their lips to the burning stream : 
 the Great Spirit has given you wisdom ! ” 
 
 “ What then have I to do, or say, in the mat- 
 ter of your misfortunes, not to say of your er- 
 rors ? ” 
 
 “ Listen,” repeated the Indian, resuming his 
 earnest attitude ; “when his English and French 
 fathers dug up the hatchet, Le Renard struck the 
 war-post of the Mohawks, and went out against 
 his own nation. The pale-faces have driven the 
 red-skins from their hunting-grounds, and now, 
 when they fight, a white man leads the way. The 
 old chief at Horican, your father, was the great 
 captain of our war-party. He said to the Mo- 
 hawks do this, and do that, and he was minded. 
 He made a law, that if an Indian swallowed the 
 fire-water, and came into the cloth wigwams of 
 his warriors, it should not be forgotten. Magua 
 foolishly opened his mouth, and the hot liquor 
 led him into the cabin of Munro. What did the 
 gray-head ? let his daughter say.” 
 
 “ He forgot not his words, and did justice, by 
 punishing the offender,” said the undaunted 
 daughter. 
 
 “ Justice ! ” repeated the Indian, casting an 
 oblique glance of the most ferocious expression 
 at her unyielding countenance ; “ is it justice to 
 make evil, and then punish for it ? Magua was 
 not himself ; it was the fire-water that spoke and 
 acted for him ! but Munro did not believe it. 
 The Huron chief was tied up before all the pale- 
 faced warriors, and whipped like a dog.” 
 
 Cora remained silent, for she knew not how 
 to palliate this imprudent severity on the part of 
 her father, in a manner to suit the comprehension 
 of an Indian. 
 
 “ See ! ” continued Magua, tearing aside the 
 slight calico that very imperfectly concealed his 
 painted breast ; “ here are scars given by knives and 
 
 bullets — of these a warrior may boast before his 
 nation ; but the gray-head has left marks on the 
 back of the Huron chief, that he must hide, like 
 a squaw, under this painted cloth of the whites.” 
 
 “ I had thought,” resumed Cora, “ that an In- 
 dian warrior was patient, and that his spirit felt 
 not, and knew not, the pain his body suffered ? ” 
 “When the Chippewas tied Magua to the 
 stake, and cut this gash,” said the other, laying 
 his finger on a deep scar, “ the Huron laughed 
 in their faces, and told them, women struck so 
 light ! His spirit was then in the clouds I But 
 when he felt the blows of Munro, his spirit lay 
 under the birch. The spirit of a Huron is never 
 drunk ; it remembers forever ! ” 
 
 “ But it may be appeased. If my father has 
 done you this injustice, show him how an Indian 
 can forgive an injury, and take back his daugh- 
 ters. You have heard from Major Heyward — ” 
 Magua shook his head, forbidding the repeti- 
 tion of offers he so much despised. 
 
 “ What would you have ? ” continued Cora, 
 after a most painful pause, while the conviction 
 forced itself on her mind that the too sanguine 
 and generous Duncan had been cruelly deceived 
 by the cunning of the savage. 
 
 “ What a Huron loves — good for good ; bad 
 for bad ! ” 
 
 “ You would then revenge the injury inflicted 
 by Munro on his helpless daughters. Would it 
 not be more like a man to go before his face, and 
 take the satisfaction of a warrior ? ” 
 
 V The arms of the pale-faces are long, and 
 their knives sharp ! ” returned the savage, with a 
 malignant laugh; “why should Le Renard go 
 among the muskets of his warriors, when he holds 
 the spirit of the gray-head in his hand ? ” 
 
 “Name your intention, Magua,” said Cora, 
 struggling with herself to speak with steady 
 calmness. “ Is it to lead us prisoners to the 
 woods, or do you contemplate even some greater 
 evil ? Is there no reward, no means of palliating 
 the injury, and of softening your heart? At 
 least, release my gentle sister, and pour out all 
 your malice on me. Purchase wealth by her 
 safety, and satisfy your revenge with a single vic- 
 tim. The loss of both his daughters might bring 
 the aged man to his grave, and where would then 
 be the satisfaction of Le Renard ? ” 
 
 “ Listen,” said the Indian again. “ The light 
 eyes can go back to the Horican, and tell the old 
 chief what has been done, if the dark-haired 
 woman will swear by the Great Spirit of her fa- 
 thers to tell no lie.” 
 
 “What must I promise?” demanded Cora, 
 still maintaining a secret ascendency over the 
 
52 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 fierce native, by the collected and feminine dig- 
 nity of her presence. 
 
 “ When Magua left his people, his wife was 
 given to another chief ; he has now made friends 
 with the Hurons, and will go back to the graves 
 of his tribe, on the shores of the great lake. Let 
 the daughter of the English chief follow, and live 
 in his wigwam forever.” 
 
 However revolting a proposal of such a char- 
 acter might prove to Cora, she retained, notwith- 
 standing her powerful disgust, sufficient self-com- 
 mand to reply, without betraying the weakness. 
 
 “And what pleasure would Magua find in 
 sharing his cabin with a wife he did not love ; 
 one who would be of a nation and color different 
 from his own ? It would be better to take the 
 gold of Munro, and buy the heart of some Huron 
 maid with his gifts.” 
 
 The Indian made no reply for near a minute, 
 but bent his fierce looks on the countenance of 
 Cora, in such wavering glances, that her eyes 
 sank with shame, under an impression, that, for 
 the first time, they had encountered an expression 
 that no chaste female might endure. While she 
 was shrinking within herself, in dread of having 
 her ears wounded by some proposal still more 
 shocking than the last, the voice of Magua an- 
 swered, in its tones of deepest malignancy : 
 
 “ When the blows scorched the back of the 
 Huron, he would know where to find a woman to 
 feel the smart. The daughter of Munro would 
 draw his water, hoe his corn, and cook his veni- 
 son. The body of the gray-head would sleep 
 among his cannon, but his heart would lie within 
 reach of the knife of Le Subtil.” 
 
 “ Monster ! well dost thou deserve thy treach- 
 erous name ! ” cried Cora, in an ungovernable 
 burst of filial indignation. “None but a fiend 
 could meditate such a vengeance ! But thou over- 
 rates t thy power ! You shall find it is, in truth, 
 the heart of Munro you hold, and that it will 
 defy your utmost malice ! ” 
 
 The Indian answered this bold defiance by a 
 ghastly smile, that showed an unaltered purpose, 
 while he motioned her away, as if to close the 
 conference forever. Cora, already regretting her 
 precipitation, was obliged to comply ; for Magua 
 instantly left the spot, and approached his glut- 
 tonous comrades. Heyward flew to the side of 
 the agitated female, and demanded the result of a 
 dialogue that he had watched at a distance with 
 so much interest. But, unwilling to alarm the 
 fears of Alice, she evaded a direct reply, betray- 
 ing only by her countenance her utter want of 
 success, and keeping her anxious looks fastened 
 on the slightest movements of their captors. To 
 
 the reiterated and earnest questions of her sister, 
 concerning their probable destination, she mad# 
 no other answer than by pointing toward the dark 
 group, with an agitation she could not control, 
 and murmuring, as she folded Alice to hei 
 bosom : 
 
 “ There, there ; read our fortunes in theiff 
 faces ; we shall see ; we shall see ! ” 
 
 The action, and the choked utterance of Cora, 
 spoke more impressively than any words, and 
 quickly drew the attention of her companions on 
 that spot, where her own was riveted with an in- 
 tenseness that nothing but the importance of the 
 stake could create. 
 
 When Magua reached the cluster of lolling 
 savages, who, gorged with their disgusting meal, 
 lay stretched on the earth in brutal indulgence, 
 he commenced speaking with the dignity of an 
 Indian chief. The first syllables he uttered had 
 the effect to cause his listeners to raise them- 
 selves in attitudes of respectful attention. As 
 the Huron used his native language, the prisoners, 
 notwithstanding the caution of the natives had 
 kept them within the swing of their tomahawks, 
 could only conjecture the substance of his ha- 
 rangue, from the nature of those significant ges- 
 tures with which an Indian always illustrates hia 
 eloquence. 
 
 At first the language, as well as the action of 
 Magua, appeared calm and deliberative. When 
 he had succeeded in sufficiently awakening the 
 attention of his comrades, Heyward fancied, by 
 his pointing so frequently toward the direction of 
 the great lakes, that he spoke of the land of their 
 fathers, and of their distant tribe. Frequent in- 
 dications of applause escaped the listeners, who, 
 as they uttered the expressive “ Hugh ! ” looked 
 at each other in commendation of the speaker. 
 Le Kenard was too skilful to neglect his advan- 
 tage. He now spoke of the long and painful 
 route by which they had left those spacious 
 grounds and happy villages to come and battle 
 against the enemies of their Canadian fathers. 
 He enumerated the warriors of the party ; their 
 several merits ; their frequent services to the na- 
 tion ; their wounds, and the number of the scalps 
 they had taken. Whenever he alluded to any 
 present (and the subtle Indian neglected none), 
 the dark countenance of the flattered individual 
 gleamed with exultation, nor did he even hesitate 
 to assert the truth of the words by gestures of 
 applause and confirmation. Then the voice of 
 the speaker fell, and lost the loud, animated tones 
 of triumph with which he had enumerated their 
 deeds of success and victory. He described th« 
 cataract of Glenn’s ; the impregnable position of 
 
EFFECT OF MAGUA’S ADDRESS. 
 
 53 
 
 ffcs rocky island, with its caverns and its numer- 
 ous rapids and whirlpools ; he named the name 
 of “ La longue Carabine,” and paused until the 
 forest beneath them had sent up the last echo of 
 a loud and long yell, with which the hated ap- 
 pellation was received. He pointed toward the 
 youthful, military captive, and described the 
 death of a favorite warrior, who had been precipi- 
 tated into the deep ravine by his hand. He not 
 only mentioned tne fate of him who, hanging be- 
 tween heaven and earth, had presented such a 
 spectacle of horror to the whole band, but he 
 acted anew the terrors of his situation, his reso- 
 lution, and his death, on the branches of a sap- 
 ling ; and, finally, he rapidly recounted the man- 
 ner in which each of their friends had fallen, 
 never failing to touch upon their courage, and 
 their most acknowledged virtues. When this 
 recital of events was ended, his voice once more 
 changed, and became plaintive, and even musical, 
 in its low, guttural sounds. He now spoke of 
 the wives and children of the slain ; their destitu- 
 tion ; their misery, both physical and moral ; their 
 distance ; and, at last, of their unavenged wrongs. 
 Then suddenly lifting his voice to a pitch of ter- 
 rific energy, he concluded by demanding : 
 
 “ Are the Hurons dogs to bear this ? Who 
 shall say to the wife of Menowgua that the fishes 
 have his scalp, and that his nation have not taken 
 revenge? Who will dare meet the mother of 
 Wassawattimie, that scornful woman, with his 
 hands clean ? What shall be said to the old men 
 when they ask us for scalps, and we have not a 
 hair from a white-head to give them ? The wom- 
 en will point their fingers at us. There is a dark 
 spot on the names of the Hurons, and it must be 
 hid in blood ! — ” 
 
 His voice was no longer audible in the burst 
 of rage which now broke into the air, as if the 
 wood, instead of containing so small a band, was 
 filled with the nation. During the foregoing ad- 
 dress, the progress of the speaker was too plainly 
 read by those most interested in his success, 
 through the medium of the countenances of the 
 men he addressed. They had answered his melan- 
 choly and mourning by sympathy and sorrow ; 
 his assertions, by gestures of confirmation ; and 
 his boastings, with the exultation of savages. 
 When he spoke of courage, their looks were firm 
 and responsive ; when he alluded to their injuries, 
 their eyes kindled with fury ; when he mentioned 
 the taunts of the women, they dropped their heads 
 in shame ; but when he pointed out their means 
 of vengeance, he struck a chord which never 
 failed to thrill in the breast of an Indian. With 
 the first intimation that it was within their reach, 
 
 the whole band sprang upon their feet as one 
 man ; giving utterance to their rage in the most 
 frantic cries, they rushed upon their prisoners in 
 a body with drawn knives and uplifted toma- 
 hawks. Heyward threw himself between the sis- 
 ters and the foremost, whom he grappled with a 
 desperate strength that for a moment checked his 
 violence. This unexpected resistance gave Magua 
 time to interpose, and, with rapid enunciation and 
 animated gesture, he drew the attention of the 
 band again to himself. In that language he knew 
 so well how to assume, he diverted his comrades 
 from their instant purpose, and invited them to 
 prolong the misery of their victims. His pro- 
 posal was received with acclamations, and exe- 
 cuted with the swiftness of thought. 
 
 Two powerful warriors cast themselves on 
 Heyward, while another was occupied in securing 
 the less active singing-master. Neither of the 
 captives, however, submitted without a desperate 
 though fruitless struggle. Even David hurled his 
 assailant to the earth ; nor was Heyward secured 
 until the victory over his companion enabled the 
 Indians to direct their united force to that object. 
 He was then bound and fastened to the body of 
 the sapling, on whose branches Magua had acted 
 the pantomime of the falling Huron. When the 
 young soldier regained his recollection, he had 
 the painful certainty before his eyes that a com- 
 mon fate was intended for the whole party. On 
 his right was Cora, in a durance similar to his 
 own, pale and agitated, but with an eye whose 
 steady look still read the proceedings of their en- 
 emies. On his left, the withes which bound her 
 to a pine, performed that office for Alice which 
 her trembling limbs refused, and alone kept her 
 fragile form from sinking. Her hands were 
 clasped before her in prayer, but instead of look- 
 ing upward toward that power which alone could 
 rescue them, her unconscious looks wandered to 
 the countenance of Duncan with infantile depend- 
 ency. David had contended, and the novelty of 
 the circumstance held him silent, in deliberation 
 on the propriety of the unusual occurrence. 
 
 The vengeance of the Hurons had now taken 
 a new direction, and they prepared to execute it 
 with that barbarous ingenuity with which they 
 were familiarized by the practice of centuries. 
 Some sought knots, to raise the blazing pile ; one 
 was riving the splinters of pine, in order to pierce 
 the flesh of their captives with the burning frag- 
 ments ; and others bent the tops of two saplings 
 to the earth, in order to suspend Heyward by the 
 arms between the recoiling branches. But the 
 vengeance of Magua sought a deeper and a more 
 malignant enjoyment. 
 
54 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 While the less refined monsters of the band 
 prepared, before the eyes of those who were to 
 suffer, these well-known and vulgar means of tor- 
 ture, he approached Cora, and pointed out, with 
 the most malign expression of countenance, the 
 speedy fate that awaited her. 
 
 “ Ha ! ” he added, “ what says the daughter 
 of Munro ? Her head is too good to find a pil- 
 low in the wigwam of Le Renard ; will she like it 
 better when it rolls about this hill a plaything for 
 the wolves ? Her bosom cannot nurse the chil- 
 dren of a Huron ; she will see it spit upon by In- 
 dians ! ” 
 
 “ What means the monster ! ” demanded the 
 astonished Heyward. 
 
 “Nothing!” was the firm reply. “He is a 
 savage, a barbarous and ignorant savage, and 
 knows not what he does. Let us find leisure, 
 with our dying breath, to ask for him penitence 
 and pardon.” 
 
 “ Pardon ! ” echoed the fierce Huron, mistak- 
 ing, in his anger, the meaning of her words ; “ the 
 memory of an Indian is longer than the arm of 
 the pale-faces ; his mercy shorter than their jus- 
 tice ! Say ; shall I send the yellow-hair to her 
 father, and will you follow Magua to the great 
 lakes, to carry his water, and feed him with corn ? ” 
 
 Cora beckoned him away, with an emotion of 
 disgust she could not control. 
 
 “ Leave me,” she said, with a solemnity that 
 for a moment checked the barbarity of the Indian ; 
 “ you mingle bitterness in my prayers ; you stand 
 between me and my God ! ” 
 
 The slight impression produced on the savage 
 was, however, soon forgotten, and he continued 
 pointing with taunting irony toward Alice. 
 
 “ Look ! the child weeps 1 She is young to 
 die ! Send her to Munro, to comb his gray hairs, 
 and keep life in the heart of the old man.” 
 
 Cora could not resist the desire to look upon 
 her youthful sister, in whose eyes she met an im- 
 ploring glance, that betrayed the longings of na- 
 ture. 
 
 “What says he, dearest Cora?” asked the 
 trembling voice of Alice. “Did he speak of 
 sending me to our father ? ” 
 
 For many moments the elder sister looked 
 upon the younger, with a countenance that wa- 
 vered with powerful and contending emotions. 
 At length she spoke, though her tones had lost 
 their rich and calm fulness, in an expression of 
 tenderness that seemed maternal. 
 
 “ Alice,” she said, “ the Huron offers us both 
 life — nay, more than both ; he offers to restore 
 Duncan — our invaluable Duncan, as well as you, 
 to our friends — to our father — to our heart-strick- 
 
 en, childless father, if I will bow down this re 
 bellious, stubborn pride of mine, and consent— w 
 
 Her voice became choked, and clasping her 
 hands, she looked upward, as if seeking, in her 
 agony, intelligence from a wisdom that was infi- 
 nite. 
 
 “Say on,” cried Alice; “to what, dearest 
 Cora ? Oh ! that the proffer were made to me ! to 
 save you, to cheer our aged father ! to restore 
 Duncan, how cheerfully could I die ! ” 
 
 “ Die ! ” repeated Cora, with a calmer and a 
 firmer voice, “ that were easy ! Perhaps the ah 
 ternative may not be less so. He would have 
 me,” she continued, her accents sinking under a 
 deep consciousness of the degradation of the pro- 
 posal, “ follow him to the wilderness ; go to the 
 habitations of the Hurons ; to remain there : in 
 short, to become his wife ! Speak, then, Alice ; 
 child of my affections ! sister of my love ! And 
 you, too, Major Heyward, aid my weak reason 
 with your counsel. Is life to be purchased by 
 such a sacrifice ? Will you, Alice, receive it at 
 my hands at such a price ? And you , Duncan ; 
 guide me ; control me between you ; for I am 
 wholly yours.” 
 
 “Would I!” echoed the indignant and as- 
 tonished youth. “ Cora ! Cora ! you jest with our 
 misery ! Name not the horrid alternative again ; 
 the thought itself is worse than a thousand deaths.” 
 
 “That such would be your answer, I well 
 knew ! ” exclaimed Cora, her cheeks flushing, and 
 her dark eyes once more sparkling with the 
 lingering emotions of a woman. “ What says my 
 Alice ? for her will I submit without another mur- 
 mur.” 
 
 Although both Heyward and Cora listened 
 with painful suspense and the deepest attention, 
 no sounds were heard in reply. It appeared as 
 if the delicate and sensitive form of Alice would 
 shrink into itself, as she listened to this proposal. 
 Her arms had fallen lengthwise before her, the 
 fingers moving in slight convulsions; her head 
 dropped upon her bosom, and her whole person 
 seemed suspended against the tree, looking like 
 some beautiful emblem of the wounded delicacy 
 of her sex, devoid of animation, and yet keenly 
 conscious. In a few moments, however, her 
 head began to move slowly, in a sign of deep, 
 unconquerable disapprobation. 
 
 “No, no, no ; better that we die as we have 
 lived, together ! ” 
 
 “ Then die ! ” shouted Magua, hurling his toma- 
 hawk with violence at the unresisting speaker, 
 and gnashing his teeth with a rage that could no 
 longer be bridled, at this sudden exhibition of 
 firmness in the one he believed the weakest of th* 
 
HAWK-EYE’S ATTACK AND VICTORY. 
 
 55 
 
 party The axe cleaved the air in front of Hey- 
 ward, and, cutting some of the flowing ringlets of 
 Alice, quivered in the tree above her head. The 
 sight maddened Duncan to desperation. Collect- 
 ing all his energies in one effort, he snapped the 
 twigs which bound him, and rushed upon another 
 savage, who was preparing, with loud yells, and a 
 more deliberate aim, to repeat the blow. They 
 encountered, grappled, and fell to the earth to- 
 gether. The naked body of his antagonist afford- 
 ed Heyward no means of holding his adversary, 
 who glided from his grasp, and rose again with 
 one knee on his chest, pressing him down with 
 the weight of a giant. Duncan already saw the 
 knife gleaming in the air, when a whistling sound 
 swept past him, and was rather accompanied, than 
 followed, by the sharp crack of a rifle. He felt 
 his breast relieved from the load it had endured ; 
 he saw the savage expression of his adversary’s 
 countenance change to a look of vacant wildness, 
 when the Indian fell dead on the faded leaves by 
 his side. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 “ Clo . — I am gone, sir, 
 
 And anon, sir, 
 
 I’ll be with you again.” 
 
 Twelfth Night. 
 
 The Hurons stood aghast at this sudden visi- 
 tation of death on one of their band. But, as 
 they regarded the fatal accuracy of an aim which 
 had dared to immolate an enemy at so much 
 hazard to a friend, the name of “La longue 
 Carabine” burst simultaneously from every lip, 
 and was succeeded by a wild and a sort of plain- 
 tive howl. The cry was answered by a loud 
 shout from a little thicket, where the incautious 
 party had piled their arms ; and, at the next mo- 
 ment, Hawk-eye, too eager to load the rifle he 
 had regained, was seen advancing upon them, 
 brandishing the clubbed weapon, and cutting the 
 air with wide and powerful sweeps. Bold and 
 rapid as was the progress of the scout, it was 
 exceeded by that of a light and vigorous form, 
 which, bounding past him, leaped, with incredi- 
 ble activity and daring, into the very centre of 
 the Hurons, where it stood, whirling a tomahawk 
 and flourishing a glittering knife, with fearful 
 menaces, in front of Cora. Quicker than the 
 thoughts could follow these unexpected and au- 
 dacious movements, an image, armed in the em- 
 blematic panoply of death, glided before their 
 eyes, and assumed a threatening attitude at the 
 
 other’s side. The savage tormentors recoiled be- 
 fore these warlike intruders, and uttered, as they 
 appeared in such quick succession, the often-re- 
 peated and peculiar exclamation of surprise, 
 followed by the well-known and dreaded ap- 
 pellations of — 
 
 “ Le Cerf agile ! Le gros Serpent ! ” 
 
 But the wary and vigilant leader of the Hu- 
 rons was not so easily disconcerted. Casting his 
 keen eyes around the little plain, he compre- 
 hended the nature of the assault at a glance, and, 
 encouraging his followers by his voice as well as 
 by his example, he unsheathed his long and dan- 
 gerous knife and rushed, with a loud whoop, 
 upon the expecting Chingachgoolc. It was the 
 signal for a general combat. Neither party had 
 fire-arms, and the contest was to be decided in 
 the deadliest manner ; hand to hand, with weap- 
 ons of offence, and none of defence. 
 
 Uncas answered the whoop, and, leaping on 
 an enemy, with a single, well-directed blow of 
 his tomahawk, cleft him to the brain. Heyward 
 tore the weapon of Magua from the sapling and 
 rushed eagerly toward the fray. As the com- 
 batants were now equal in number, each singled 
 an opponent from the adverse band. The rush 
 and blows passed with the fury of a whirlwind 
 and the swiftness of lightning. Hawk-eye soon 
 got another enemy within reach of his arm, and 
 with one sweep of his formidable weapon ho 
 beat down the slight and inartificial defences of 
 his antagonist, crushing him to the earth with 
 the blow. Heyward ventured to hurl the toma- 
 hawk he had seized, too ardent to await the mo- 
 ment of closing. It struck the Indian he had se- 
 lected on the forehead, and checked for an in- 
 stant his onward rush. Encouraged by this 
 slight advantage, the impetuous young man con- 
 tinued his onset, and sprang upon his enemy with 
 naked hands. A single instant was sufficient to 
 assure him of the rashness of the measure, for he 
 immediately found himself fully engaged, with all 
 his activity and courage, in endeavoring to ward 
 the desperate thrusts made with the knife of the 
 Huron. Unable longer to foil an enemy so alert 
 and vigilant, he threw his arms about him, and 
 succeeded in pinning the limbs of the other to 
 his side with an iron grasp, but one that was far 
 too exhausting to himself to continue long. In 
 this extremity he heard a voice near him shout- 
 ing : 
 
 “Extarminate the varlets! no quarter to an 
 accursed Mingo ! ” 
 
 At the next moment the breech of Hawk-eye’s 
 rifle fell on the naked head of his adversary, 
 whose muscles appeared to wither under the 
 
56 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 shock as he sank from the arms of Duncan flexi- 
 ble and motionless. 
 
 When Uncas had brained his first antagonist, 
 ne turned, like a hungry lion, to seek another. 
 The fifth and only Huron disengaged at the first 
 onset had paused a moment, and then seeing that 
 all around him were employed in the deadly 
 strife, he had sought, with hellish vengeance, to 
 complete the baffled work of revenge. Raising a 
 Bhout of triumph, he sprang toward the defence- 
 less Cora, sending his keen axe as the dreadful 
 precursor of his approach. The tomahawk 
 grazed her shoulder; and, cutting the withes 
 which bound her to the tree, left the maiden at 
 liberty to fly. She eluded the grasp of the sav- 
 age, and, reckless of her own safety, threw her- 
 self on the bosom of Alice, striving, with con- 
 vulsed and ill-directed fingers, to tear asunder 
 the twigs which confined the person of her sister. 
 Any other than a monster would have relented at 
 such an act of generous devotion to the best and 
 purest affection; but the breast of the Huron 
 was a stranger to sympathy. Seizing Cora by 
 the rich tresses which fell in confusion about her 
 form, he tore her from her frantic hold, and 
 bowed her down with brutal violence to her 
 knees. The savage drew the flowing curls 
 through his hand, and, raising them on high with 
 an outstretched arm, he passed the knife around 
 the exquisitely-moulded head of his victim with a 
 taunting and exulting laugh. But he purchased 
 this moment of fierce gratification with the loss 
 of the fatal opportunity. It was just then the 
 sight caught the eye of Uncas. Bounding from 
 his footsteps he appeared for an instant darting 
 through the air, and, descending in a ball, he fell 
 on the chest of his enemy, driving him many 
 yards from the spot headlong and prostrate. The 
 violence of the exertion cast the young Mohican 
 at his side. They arose together, fought, and 
 bled, each in his turn. But the conflict was soon 
 decided ; the tomahawk of Heyward and the 
 rifle of Hawk-eye descended on the skull of the 
 Huron, at the same moment that the knife of 
 Uncas reached his heart. 
 
 The battle was now entirely terminated, with 
 the exception of the protracted struggle between 
 “ Le Renard Subtil ” and “ Le gros Serpent.” 
 Well did these barbarous warriors prove that they 
 deserved those significant names which had been 
 bestowed for deeds in former wars. When they 
 engaged, some little time was lost in eluding the 
 quick and vigorous thrusts which had been aimed 
 at their lives. Suddenly darting on each other, they 
 closed, and came to the earth, twisted together 
 jke twining serpents, in pliant and subtle folds. 
 
 At the moment when the victors found them* 
 selves unoccupied, the spot where these experi- 
 enced and desperate combatants lay could only 
 be distinguished by a cloud of dust and leaves 
 which moved from the centre of the little plain 
 toward its boundary, as if raised by the passage 
 of a whirlwind. Urged by the different motives 
 of filial affection, friendship, and gratitude, Hey 
 ward and his companions rushed with one accord 
 to the place, encircling the little canopy of dust 
 which hung above the warriors. In vain did Un- 
 cas dart around the cloud, with a wish to strike 
 his knife into the heart of his father’s foe ; the 
 threatening rifle of Hawk-eye was raised and sus- 
 pended in vain, while Duncan endeavored to seize 
 the limbs of the Huron with hands that appeared 
 to have lost their power. Covered, as they were, 
 with dust and blood, the swift evolutions of the 
 combatants seemed to incorporate their bodies 
 into one. The death-like looking figure of the 
 Mohican, and the dark form of the Huron, gleamed 
 before their eyes in such quick and confused succes- 
 sion, that the friends of the former knew not 
 where nor when to plant the succoring blow. It 
 is true there were short and fleeting moments, 
 when the fiery eyes of Magua were seen glittering, 
 like the fabled organs of the basilisk, through the 
 dusty wreath by which he was enveloped, and he 
 read by those short and deadly glances the fate 
 of the combat in the presence of his enemies ; 
 ere, however, any hostile hand could descend on 
 his devoted head, its place was filled by the scowl- 
 ing visage of Chingachgook. In this manner, the 
 scene of the combat was removed from the centre 
 of the little plain to its verge. The Mohican now 
 found an opportunity to make a powerful thrust 
 with his knife ; Magua suddenly relinquished his 
 grasp, and fell backward without motion, and 
 seemingly without life. His adversary leaped on 
 his feet, making the arches of the forest ring with 
 the sounds of triumph. 
 
 “Well done for the Delawares ! victory to the 
 Mohican ! ” cried Hawk-eye, once more elevating 
 the butt of the long and fatal rifle ; “ a finishing 
 blow from a man without a cross will never tell 
 against his honor, nor rob him *6f his right to the 
 scalp.” 
 
 But, at the very moment when the dangerous 
 weapon was in the act of descending, the subtle 
 Huron rolled swiftly from beneath the danger, 
 over the edge of the precipice, and, falling on his 
 feet, was seen leaping, with a single bound, into 
 the centre of a thicket of low bushes, which clung 
 along its sides. The Delawares, who had be- 
 lieved their enemy dead, uttered their exclama- 
 tion of surprise, and were following with speed 
 
GAMUT’S SONG OF THANKSGIVING. 
 
 57 
 
 and clamor, like hounds in open view of a deer, 
 when a shrill and peculiar cry from the scout in- 
 stantly changed their purpose, and recalled them 
 to the summit of the hill. 
 
 “ ’Twas like himself,” cried the inveterate for- 
 ester, whose prejudices contributed so largely to 
 veil his natural sense of justice in all matters 
 which concerned the Mingoes ; “ a lying and deceit- 
 ful varlet as he is. An honest Delaware now, being 
 fairly vanquished, would have lain still, and been 
 knocked on the head, but these knavish Maquas 
 cling to life like so many cats-o’-the-mountain. 
 Let him go — let him go ; ’tis but one man, and 
 he without a rifle or bow, many a long mile from 
 his French commerades ; and, like a rattler that 
 has lost his fangs, he can do no further mischief, 
 until such time as he, and we too, may leave the 
 prints of our moccasins over a long reach of sandy 
 plain. — See, Uncas,” he added, in Delaware, 
 “your father is flaying the scalps already. It 
 may be well to go round and feel the vagabonds 
 that are left, or we may have another of them 
 loping through the woods, and screeching like a 
 jay that has been winged.” 
 
 So saying, the honest but implacable scout 
 made the circuit of the dead, into whose senseless 
 bosoms he thrust his long knife, with as much 
 coolness as though they had been so many brute 
 carcasses. He had, however, been anticipated by 
 the elder Mohican, who had already torn the 
 emblems of victory from the unresisting heads of 
 the slain. 
 
 But Uncas, denying his habits, we had almost 
 said his nature, flew with instinctive delicacy, ac- 
 companied by Heyward, to the assistance of the 
 females, and, quickly releasing Alice, placed her 
 in the arms of Cora. We shall not attempt to 
 describe the gratitude to the Almighty Disposer 
 of events which glowed in the bosoms of the sis- 
 ters, who were thus unexpectedly restored to life 
 and to each other. Their thanksgivings were 
 deep and silent ; the offerings of their gentle 
 spirits, burning brightest and purest on the se- 
 cret altars of their hearts ; and their renovated 
 and more earthly feelings exhibiting themselves 
 in long and fervent, though speechless caresses. 
 As Alice rose from her knees, where she had sunk 
 by the side of Cora, she threw herself on the 
 bosom of the latter, and sobbed aloud the name 
 of their aged father, while her soft, dove-like eyes, 
 •parkled with the rays of hope. 
 
 “ We are saved ! we are saved ! ” she mur- 
 mured ; to return to the arms of our dear, dear 
 father, and his heart will not be broken with 
 grief. And you too, Cora, my sister ; my more 
 than sister, my mother ; you too are spared. — 
 
 And Duncan,” she added, looking round upon the 
 youth with a smile of ineffable innocence, “ even 
 our own brave and noble Duncan has escaped 
 without a hurt.” 
 
 To these ardent and nearly incoherent words, 
 Cora made no other answer than by straining the 
 youthful speaker to her heart, as she bent over 
 her, in melting tenderness. The manhood of 
 Heyward felt no shame in dropping tears over 
 this spectacle of affectionate rapture ; and Uncas 
 stood, fresh and blood-stained from the combat, a 
 calm, and, apparently, an unmoved looker-on, it 
 is true, but with eyes that had already lost their 
 fierceness, and were beaming with a sympathy 
 that elevated him far above the intelligence, and 
 advanced him probably centuries before the prac- 
 tices of his nation. 
 
 During this display of emotions so natural in 
 their situation, Hawk-eye, whose vigilant distrust 
 had satisfied itself that the Hurons, who disfig- 
 ured the heavenly scene, no longer possessed the 
 power to interrupt its harmony, approached Da- 
 vid, and liberated him from the bonds he had, 
 until that moment, endured with the most exem- 
 plary patience. 
 
 “ There,” exclaimed the scout, casting the last 
 withe behind him, “ you are once more master of 
 your own limbs, though you seem not to use them 
 with much greater judgment than that in which 
 they were first fashioned. If advice from one 
 who is not older than yourself, but who, having 
 lived most of his time in a wilderness, may be 
 said to have experience beyond his years, will 
 give no offence, you are welcome to my thoughts ; 
 and these are, to part with the little tooting in- 
 strument in your jacket to the first fool you meet 
 with, and buy some useful we’pon with the money, 
 if it be only the barrel of a horseman’s pistol. 
 By industry and care, you might thus come to 
 some prefarment ; for by this time, I should think, 
 your eyes would plainly tell you that a carrion 
 crow is a better bird than a mocking thresher. 
 The one will, at least, remove foul sights from be- 
 fore the face of man, while the other is only good 
 to brew disturbances in the woods, by cheating 
 the ears of all that hear them.” 
 
 “ Arms and the clarion for the battle, but the 
 song of thanksgiving to the victory ! ” answered 
 the liberated David. “ Friend,” he added, thrust- 
 ing forth his lean, delicate hand toward Hawk- 
 eye, in kindness, while his eyes twinkled and 
 greyr moist, “ I thank thee that the hairs of my 
 head still grow where they were first rooted by 
 Providence ; for, though those of other men may 
 be more glossy and - curling, I have ever found 
 mine own well suited to the brain they shelter. 
 
68 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 That I did not join myself to the battle, was less 
 owing to disinclination, than to the bonds of the 
 heathen. Yaliant and skilful hast thou proved 
 thyself in the conflict, and I hereby thank thee, 
 before proceeding to discharge other and more 
 important duties, because thou hast proved thy- 
 self well worthy of a Christian’s piaise.” 
 
 “ The thing is but a trifle, and what you may 
 often see, if you tarry long among us,” returned 
 the scout, a good deal softened toward the man 
 of song, by this unequivocal expression of grati- 
 tude. “ I have got back my old companion, 
 ‘ kill-deer,’ ” he added, striking his hand on the 
 breach of his rifle ; “ and that in itself is a vic- 
 tory. These Iroquois are cunning, but they out- 
 witted themselves when they placed their fire- 
 arms out of reach ; and had Uncas or his father 
 been gifted with only their common Indian pa- 
 tience, we should have come in upon the knaves 
 with three bullets instead of one, and that would 
 have made a finish of the whole pack ; yon lop- 
 ing varlet, as well as his commerades. But ’twas 
 all fore-ordered, and for the best.” 
 
 “ Thou sayest well,” returned David, “ and 
 hast caught the true spirit of Christianity. He 
 that is to be saved will be saved, and he that is 
 predestined to be damned will be damned. This 
 is the doctrine of truth, and most consoling and 
 refreshing it is to the true believer.” 
 
 The scout, who by this time was seated, ex- 
 amining into the state of hi3 rifle with a species 
 of parental assiduity, now looked up at the 
 other in a displeasure that he did not affect to 
 conceal, roughly interrupting further speech. 
 
 “Doctrine or no doctrine,” said the stui ly 
 woodsman, “ ’tis the belief of knaves, and the 
 curse of an honest man. I can credit that yonder 
 Huron was to fall by my hand, for with my own 
 eyes I have seen it ; but nothing short of being a 
 witness, will cause me to think he has met with 
 any reward, or that Chingachgook, there, will be 
 condemned at the final day.” 
 
 “ You have no warranty for such an audacious 
 doctrine, nor any covenant to support it,” cried 
 David, who was deeply tinctured with the subtle 
 distinctions which, in his time, and more es- 
 pecially in his province, had been drawn around 
 the beautiful simplicity of revelation, by endeavor- 
 ing to penetrate the awful mystery of the divine 
 nature, supplying faith by self-sufficiency, and, by 
 consequence, involving those who reasoned from 
 such human dogmas in absurdities and doubt; 
 ‘‘ your temple is reared on the sands, and the 
 first tempest will wash away its foundation. I 
 demand your authorities for'such an uncharitable 
 assertion ” (like other advocates of a system, David 
 
 was not always accurate in his use of terms)* 
 “ Name chapter and verse ; in which of the holy 
 books do you find language to support you ? ” 
 
 “ Book ! ” repeated Hawk-eye, with singular 
 and ill-concealed disdain ; “ do you take me for 
 a whimpering boy at the apron-string of one of 
 your old gals ; and this good rifle on my knee for 
 the feather of a goose’s wing, my ox’s horn for a 
 bottle of iuk, and my leathern pouch for a cross- 
 barred handkercher to carry my dinner ? Book I 
 what have such as I, who am a warrior of the 
 wilderness, though a man without a cross, to do 
 with books ? I never read but in one, and the 
 words that are written there are too simple and 
 too plain to need much schooling ; though I may 
 boast that of forty long and hard-working years.” 
 
 “What call you the volume?” said David, 
 misconceiving the other’s meaning. 
 
 “ ’Tis open before your eyes,” returned the 
 scout ; “ and he who owns it is not a niggard of 
 its use. I have heard it said that there are men 
 who read in books to convince themselves there 
 is a God. I know not but man may so de- 
 form his works in the settlements, as to leave 
 that which is so clear in the wilderness a matter 
 of doubt among traders and priests. If any such 
 there be, and he will follow me from sun to sun, 
 through the windings of the forest, he shall see 
 enough to teach him that he is a fool, and that 
 the greatest of his folly lies in striving to rise to 
 the level of one he can never equal, be it in good- 
 ness, or be it in power.” 
 
 The instant David discovered that he battled 
 with a disputant who imbibed his faith from the 
 lights of Nature, eschewing all subtleties of doc- 
 trine, he willingly abandoned a controversy, from 
 which he believed neither profit nor credit was to 
 be derived. While the scout was speaking, he had 
 also seated himself, and producing the ready little 
 volume and the iron-rimmed spectacles, he pre- 
 paired to discharge a duty, which nothing but the 
 unexpected assault he had received in his ortho- 
 doxy could have so long suspended. He was, in 
 truth, a minstrel of the Western Continent — of a 
 much later day, certainly, than those gifted bards 
 who formerly sang the profane renown of baron 
 and prince, but after the spirit of his own age and 
 country; and he was now prepared to exercise 
 the cunning of his craft, in celebration of, ot 
 rather in thanksgiving for, the recent victory. He 
 waited patiently for Hawk-eye to cease, then lifting 
 his eyes, together with his voice, he said, aloud : 
 
 “ I invite you, friends, to join in praise for 
 this signal deliverance from the hands of barba- 
 rians and infidels, to the comfortable and solemn 
 tones of the tune called ‘ Northampton.’ ” 
 
WHAT LED TO THE UNEXPECTED RESCUE. 
 
 59 
 
 He next named the page and verse where the 
 thymes selected were to be found, and applied 
 ♦he pitch-pipe to his lips, with the decent gravity 
 that he had been wont to use ir%the temple. This 
 time he was, however, without any accompani- 
 ment, for the sisters were just then pouring out 
 those tender effusions of affection which have 
 been already alluded to. Nothing deterred by 
 the smallness of his audience, which in truth con- 
 sisted only of the discontented scout, he raised 
 his voice, commencing and ending the sacred song 
 without accident or interruption of any kind. 
 
 Hawk-eye listened, while he coolly adjusted 
 his flint and reloaded his rifle ; but the sounds, 
 wanting the extraneous assistance of scene and 
 sympathy, failed to awaken his slumbering emo- 
 tions. Never minstrel, or by whatever more suit- 
 able name David should be known, drew upon his 
 talents in the presence of more insensible audi- 
 tors ; though, considering the singleness and sin- 
 cerity of his motive, it probable that no bard 
 of profane song ever uttered notes that ascended 
 so near to that throne where all homage and 
 praise is due. The scout shook his head, and, 
 muttering some unintelligible words, among which 
 “ Throat ” and “ Iroquois ” were alone audible, 
 he walked away, to collect and to examine into 
 the state of the captured arsenal of the Hurons. 
 In this office he was now joined by Chingach- 
 gook, who found his own, as well as the rifle of 
 hi 3 son, among the arms. Even Heyward and 
 David were furnished with weapons ; nor was 
 ammunition wanting to render them all effectual. 
 
 When the foresters had made their selection, 
 and distributed the prizes, the scout announced 
 that the hour had arrived when it was necessary 
 to move. By this time the song of Gamut had 
 ceased, and the sisters had learned to still the 
 exhibition of their emotions. Aided by Duncan 
 and the younger Mohican, the two latter descended 
 the precipitous sides of that hill which they had 
 so lately ascended under so very different auspices, 
 and whose summit had so nearly proved the scene 
 of their massacre. At the foot, they found the 
 Narragansets browsing the herbage of the bushes ; 
 and, having mounted, they followed the move- 
 ments of a guide, who, in the most deadly straits, 
 had so often proved himself their friend. The 
 journey was, however, short. Hawk-eye, leaving 
 the blind path that the Hurons had followed, 
 turned short to his right, and, entering the thicket, 
 he crossed a babbling brook, and halted in a nar- 
 row dell, under the shade of a few water-elms. 
 Their distance from the base of the fatal hill was 
 but a few rods, and the steeds had been service- 
 able only in crossing the shallow stream. 
 
 The scout and the Indians appeared to be fa- 
 miliar with the sequestered place where they now 
 were ; for, leaning their rifles against the trees 
 they commenced throwing aside the dried leaves, 
 and opening the blue clay, out of which a clear 
 and sparkling spring of bright, glancing water, 
 quickly bubbled. The white man then looked 
 about him, as though seeking for some object, 
 which was not to be found as readily as he ex- 
 pected : 
 
 “ Thera careless imps, the Mohawks, with 
 their Tuscarora and Onondaga brethren, have 
 been here slaking their thirst,” he muttered, 
 “ and the vagabonds have thrown away the gourd 1 
 This is the way with benefits, when they are be 
 stowed on such disremembering hounds ! Here 
 has the Lord laid his hand, in the midst of the 
 howling wilderness, for their good, and raised 
 a fountain of water from the bowels of the ’arth, 
 that might laugh at the richest shop of apothe- 
 cary’s ware in all the colonies ; and see ! the 
 knaves have trodden in the clay, and deformed 
 the cleanliness of the place, as though they were 
 brute beasts, instead of human men.” 
 
 Uncas silently extended toward him the de- 
 sired gourd, which the spleen of Hawk-eye had 
 hitherto prevented him from observing, on a 
 branch of an elm. Filling it with water, he re- 
 tired a short distance, to a place where the 
 ground was more firm and dry ; here he coolly 
 seated himself, and, after taking a long and appar- 
 ently a grateful draught, he commenced a very 
 strict examination of the fragments of food left 
 by the Hurons, which had hung in a wallet on his 
 arm. 
 
 “ Thank you, lad ! ” he continued, returning 
 the empty gourd to Uncas ; “ now we will see 
 how these rampaging Hurons lived, when outly- 
 ing in ambushments. Look at this ! The varlets 
 know the better pieces of the deer ; and one 
 would think they might carve and roast a saddle, 
 equal to the best cook in the land ! But every 
 thing is raw, for the Iroquois are thorough sav- 
 ages. Uncas, take my steel, and kindle a fire ; a 
 mouthful of a tender broil will give natur’ a help- 
 ing hand, after so long a trail.” 
 
 Heyward, perceiving that their guides now set 
 about their repast in sober earnest, assisted the 
 ladies to alight, and placed himself at their side, 
 not unwilling to enjoy a few moments of grateful 
 rest, after the bloody scene he had just gone 
 through. While the culinary process was in 
 hand, curiosity induced him to inquire into the 
 circumstances which had led to their timely and 
 unexpected rescue : 
 
 “ How is it that we see you so soon, my gen- 
 
60 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 erous friend,” he asked, “ and without aid from 
 the garrison of Edward ? ” 
 
 “ Had we gone to the bend in the river, we 
 might have been in time to rake the leaves over 
 your bodies, but too late to have saved your 
 Bcalps,” coolly answered the scout. “No, no; 
 instead of throwing away strength and opportu- 
 nity by crossing to the fort, we lay by, under the 
 bank of the Hudson, waiting to watch the move- 
 ments of the Hurons.” 
 
 “ You were, then, witnesses of all that passed ?” 
 
 “ Not of all ; for Indian sight is too keen to 
 be easily cheated, and we kept close. A difficult 
 matter it was, too, to keep this Mohican boy snug 
 in the ambushment. — Ah! Uncas, Uncas, your 
 behavior was more like that of a curious woman 
 than of a warrior on his scent.” 
 
 Uncas permitted his eyes to turn for an in- 
 % stant on the sturdy countenance of the speaker, 
 but he neither spoke nor gave any indication of 
 repentance. On the contrary, Heyward thought 
 the manner of the young Mohican was disdainful, 
 if not a little fierce, and that he suppressed pas- 
 sions that were ready to explode, as much’ in 
 compliment to the listeners, as from the defer- 
 ence he usually paid to his white associate. 
 
 “You saw our capture?” Heyward next de- 
 manded. 
 
 “We heard it,” was the significant answer. 
 “ An Indian yell is plain language to men who 
 have passed their days in the woods. But when 
 you landed, we were driven to crawl, like sar- 
 pents, beneath the leaves ; and then we lost sight 
 of you entirely, until we placed eyes on you again, 
 trussed to the trees, and ready bound for an In- 
 dian massacre.” 
 
 “ Our rescue was the deed of Providence. It 
 was nearly a miracle that you did not mistake 
 the path, for the Hurons divided, and each band 
 had its horses.” 
 
 “ Ay ! there we were thrown off the scent, 
 and might, indeed, have lost the trail, had it not 
 been for Uncas ; we took the path, however, that 
 led into the wilderness ; for we judged, and 
 judged rightly, that the savages would hold that 
 course with their prisoners. But when we had 
 followed it without finding a single twig broken, 
 as I had advised, my mind misgave me ; espe- 
 cially as all the footsteps had the prints of moc- 
 casins.” 
 
 “ Our captors had the precaution to see us 
 shod like themselves,” said Duncan, raising a 
 foot, and exhibiting the buckskin he wore. 
 
 “ Ay ! ’twas judgmatical, and like themselves , 
 though we were too expert to be thrown from a 
 trail by so common an invention.” 
 
 “To what, then, are we indebted foi our 
 
 safety ? ” 
 
 “To what, as a white man who has no taint 
 of Indian blood, I dhould be ashamed to own ; to 
 the judgment of the young Mohican, in matters 
 which I should know better than he, but which 
 I can now hardly believe to be true, though my 
 own eyes tell me it is so.” 
 
 “ ’Tis extraordinary ! will you not name the 
 reason ? ” 
 
 “Uncas was bold enough to say, that the 
 beasts ridden by the gentle ones,” continued 
 Hawk-eye, glancing his eyes, not without curious 
 interest, on the fillies of the ladies, “ planted the 
 legs of one side on the ground at the same time, 
 which is contrary to the movements of all trotting 
 four-footed animals of my knowledge, except the 
 bear. And yet here are horses that always jour- 
 ney in this manner, as my own eyes have seen, 
 and as their trail has shown for twenty long 
 miles.” 
 
 “ ’Tis the merit of the animal ! They come 
 from the shores of Narraganset Bay, in the small 
 province of Providence Plantations, and are cele- 
 brated for their hardihood and the ease of this 
 peculiar movement ; though other horses are not 
 unfrequently trained to the same.” 
 
 “ It may be — it may be,” said Hawk-eye, who 
 had listened with singular attention to this ex- 
 planation ; “ though I am a man who has the full 
 blood of the whites, my judgment in deer and 
 beaver is greater than in beasts of burden. Ma- 
 jor Effingham has many noble chargers, but I 
 have never seen one travel after such a sideling 
 gait.” 
 
 “ True ; for he would value the animals for 
 very different properties. Still is this a breed 
 highly esteemed, and, as you witness, much 
 honored with the burdens it is often destined to 
 bear.” 
 
 The Mohicans had suspended their operation? 
 about the glimmering fire, to listen ; and, when 
 Duncan had done, they looked at each other 
 significantly, the father uttering the never-failing 
 exclamation of surprise. The scout ruminated, 
 like a man digesting his newly-acquired knowl- 
 edge, and once more stole a curious glance at the 
 horses. 
 
 “ I dare to say there are even stranger sights 
 to be seen in the settlements ! ” he said, at 
 length ; “ Natur’ is sadly abused by man when 
 he once gets the mastery. But, go sideling or go 
 straight, Uncas had seen the movement, and their 
 trail led us on to the broken bush. The outer 
 branch, near the prints of one of the horses, was 
 bent upward, as a lady breaks a fiower from its 
 
BALLSTON SPRINGS. 
 
 61 
 
 item, but all the rest were ragged and broken 
 down, as if the strong hand of man had been 
 tearing them ! So I concluded that the cunning 
 varments had seen the twig bent, and had tom 
 the rest to make us believe a buck had been feel- 
 ing the boughs with his antlers.” 
 
 “ I do believe your sagacity did not deceive 
 you ; for some such thing occurred.” 
 
 “ That was easy to see,” added the scout, in 
 no degree conscious of having exhibited any ex- 
 traordinary sagacity ; “ and a very different mat- 
 ter it was from a waddling horse 1 It then struck 
 me the Mingoes would push for this spring, for 
 the knaves well knew the virtue of its waters ! ” 
 
 “ Is it, then, so famous ■? ” demanded Hey- 
 ward, examining, with a more curious eye, the 
 secluded dell with its bubbling fountain, sur- 
 rounded, as it was, by earth of a deep, dingy 
 brown. 
 
 “ Few red-skins who travel south and east of 
 the great lakes but have heard of its qualities. 
 Will you taste for yourself ? ” 
 
 Heyward took the gourd, and, after swallow- 
 ing a little of the water, threw it aside with gri- 
 maces of discontent. The scout laughed in his 
 silent, but heart-felt manner, and shook his head 
 with vast satisfaction. 
 
 “ Ah ! you want the flavor that one gets by 
 habit ; the time was when I liked it as little as 
 yourself; but I have come to my taste, and I now 
 crave it as a deer does the licks.* Your high- 
 spiced wines are not better liked than a red-skin 
 relishes this water ; especially when his natur’ is 
 ailing. But Uncas has made his fire, and it is 
 time we think of eating, for our journey is long, 
 and all before us.” 
 
 Interrupting the dialogue by this abrupt tran- 
 sition, the scout had instant recourse to the frag- 
 ments of food which had escaped the voracity 
 of the Hurons. A very summary process com- 
 pleted the simple cookery, when he and the Mo- 
 hicans commenced their humble meal with the 
 silence and characteristic diligence of men who 
 ate in order to enable themselves to endure great 
 and unremitting toil. 
 
 When this necessary, and, happily, grateful 
 duty had been performed, each of the foresters 
 stooped and took a long and parting draught at 
 that solitary and silent spring, f around which 
 
 * Many of the animals of the American forests resort to 
 those spots where salt-springs are found. These are called 
 “licks,” or “salt-licks,” in the language of the country, 
 from the circumstance that the quadruped is often obliged 
 to lick the earth in order to obtain the saline particles. 
 These licks are great places of resort with the hunters, who 
 waylay their game near the paths that lead to them. 
 
 t The scene of the foregoing incidents is on the spot 
 
 and its sister-fountains, within fifty years, the 
 wealth, beauty, and talents, of a hemisphere were 
 to assemble in throngs in pursuit of health and 
 pleasure. Then Hawk-eye announced his de- 
 termination to proceed. The sisters resumed 
 their saddles ; Duncan and David grasped their 
 rifles, and followed on their footsteps ; the scout 
 leading the advance, and the Mohicans bringing 
 up the rear. The whole party moved swiftly 
 through the narrow path toward the north, leav- 
 ing the healing waters to mingle unheeded with 
 the adjacent brook, and the bodies of the dead to 
 fester on the neighboring mount without the rites 
 of sepulture — a fate but too common to the 
 warriors of the woods to excite either commisera- 
 tion or comment. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 “ I’ll seek a readier path.” 
 
 Pabnell. 
 
 The route taken by Hawk-eye lay across those 
 sandy plains relieved by occasional valleys and 
 swells of land, which had been traversed by their 
 party on the morning of the same day with the 
 baffled Magua for their guide. The sun had now 
 fallen low toward the distant mountains ; and, as 
 their journey lay through the interminable forest, 
 the heat was no longer oppressive. Their prog- 
 ress, in consequence, was proportionate; and 
 long before the twilight gathered about them they 
 had made good many toilsome miles on their re- 
 turn. 
 
 The hunter, like the savage whose place he 
 filled, seemed to select among the blind signs of 
 their wild route with a species of instinct, seldom 
 abating his speed, and never pausing to deliber- 
 ate. A rapid and oblique glance at the moss on 
 the trees, with an occasional upward gaze toward 
 the setting sun, or a steady but passing look at 
 the direction of the numerous water - courses 
 through which he waded, were sufficient to de- 
 termine his path and remove his greatest diffi- 
 culties. In the mean time, the forest began to 
 change its hues, losing that lively green which 
 had embellished its arches in the graver light 
 which is the usual precursor of the close of day. 
 
 While the eyes of the sisters were endeavor 
 ing to catch glimpses through the trees of the 
 flood of golden glory which formed a glittering 
 halo around the sun, tinging here and there with 
 ruby streaks, or bordering with narrow edgings 
 
 where the village of Ballston now stands ; one of the two 
 principal watering-places of America. 
 
62 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 of shining yellow, a mass of clouds that lay piled 
 at no great distance above the western hills, 
 Hawk-eye turned suddenly, and, pointing upward 
 toward the gorgeous heavens, he spoke : 
 
 “ Yonder is the signal given to man to seek 
 his food and natural rest,” he said ; “ better and 
 wiser would it be, if he could understand the 
 signs of Natur’, and take a lesson from the fowls 
 of the air, and the beasts of the fields ! Our 
 night, however, will soon be over ; for, with the 
 moon, we must be up and moving again. I re- 
 member to have fout the Maquas, hereaways, in 
 the first war in which I ever drew blood from 
 man ; and we threw up a work of blocks, to keep 
 the ravenous varments from handling our scalps. 
 If my marks do not fail me, we shall find the 
 place a few rods farther to our left.” 
 
 Without waiting for an assent, or, indeed, for 
 any reply, the sturdy hunter moved boldly into a 
 dense thicket of young chestnuts, shoving aside 
 the branches of the exuberant shoots which 
 nearly covered the ground, like a man who ex- 
 pected, at each step, to discover some object he 
 had formerly known. The recollection of the 
 scout did not deceive him. After penetrating 
 through the brush, matted as it was with briers, 
 for a few hundred feet, he entered an open space, 
 that surrounded a low, green hillock, which was 
 crowned by the decayed block-house in question. 
 This rude and neglected building was one of those 
 deserted works, which, having been thrown up 
 on an emergency, had been abandoned with the 
 disappearance of danger, and was now quietly 
 crumbling in the solitude of the forest, neglect- 
 ed, and nearly forgotten, like the circumstances 
 which had caused it to be reared. Such memori- 
 als of the passage and struggles of man are yet 
 frequent throughout the broad barrier of wilder- 
 ness which once separated the hostile provinces, 
 and form a species of ruins that are intimately 
 associated with the recollections of colonial his- 
 tory, and which are in appropriate keeping with 
 the gloomy character of the surrounding scenery.* 
 
 * Seme years since, the writer was shooting in the vi- 
 cinity of the ruins of Fort Oswego, which stands on the 
 shores of Lake Ontario. His game was deer, and his chase 
 a forest that stretched, with little interruption, fifty miles 
 inland. Unexpectedly he came upon six or eight ladders 
 lying in the woods within a short distance of each other. 
 They were rudely made and much decayed. "Wondering 
 what could have assembled so many of these instruments 
 In such a place, he sought an old man who resided near for 
 explanation. 
 
 During the war of 1776 Fort Oswego was held by the 
 British. An expedition had been sent two hundred miles 
 through the wilderness to surprise the fort It appears 
 that the Americans, on reaching the spot named, which 
 «u within a mile or two of the fort, first learned that they 
 
 The roof of bark had long since fallen, and min* 
 gled with the soil ; but the huge logs of pine, 
 which had been hastily thrown together, still pre- 
 served their relative positions, though one anglo 
 of the work had given way under the pressure, 
 and threatened a speedy downfall to the remain- 
 der of the rustic edifice. While Heyward and 
 his companions hesitated to approach a building 
 so decayed, Hawk-eye and the Indians entered 
 within the low walls, not only without fear, but 
 with obvious interest. While the former sur- 
 veyed the ruins, both internally and externally, 
 with the curiosity of one whose recollections 
 were reviving at each moment, Chingachgook 
 related to his son, in the language of the Dela- 
 wares, and with the pride of a conqueror, the 
 brief history of the skirmish which had been 
 fought, in his youth, in that secluded spot. A 
 strain of melancholy, however, blended with his 
 triumph, rendering his voice, as usual, soft and 
 musical. 
 
 In the mean time, the sisters gladly dismount- 
 ed, and prepared to enjoy their halt in the cool- 
 ness of the evening, and in a security which they 
 believed nothing but the beasts of the forest 
 could invade. 
 
 “ Would notour resting-place have been more 
 retired, my worthy friend,” demanded the more 
 vigilant Duncan, perceiving that the scout had 
 already finished his short survey, “ had we chosen 
 a spot less known, and one more rarely visited 
 than this ? ” 
 
 “Few live who know the block -house was 
 ever raised,” was the slow and musing answ’er ; 
 “ ’tis not often that books are made, and narra- 
 tives written, of such a skrimmage as was here 
 fout atween the Mohicans and the Mohawks, in 
 a war of their own waging. I was then a younk- 
 er, and went out with the Delawares, because I 
 know’d they were a scandalized and wronged race. 
 Forty days and forty nights did the imps crave 
 our blood around this pile of logs, which I de- 
 signed and partly reared, being, as you’ll re- 
 member, no Indian myself, but a man without a 
 cross. The Delawares lent themselves to the 
 work, and we make it good, ten to twenty, until 
 our numbers were nearly equal, and then we sal- 
 lied out upon the hounds, and not a man of them 
 ever got back to tell the fate of his party. Yes, 
 yes ; I was then young, and new to the sight of 
 blood ; and not relishing the thought that crea- 
 tures who had spirits like myself should lay on 
 
 were expected, and In great danger of being cut off. They 
 threw away their scaling-ladders, and made a rapid retreat 
 These ladders had lain unmolested thirty years, in tbo spot 
 where they had thu3 been cast 
 
A NIGHT IN THE RUINED BLOCK-HOUSE. 
 
 03 
 
 the naked ground, to be torn asunder by beasts, 
 or to bleach in the rains, I buried the dead with 
 my own hands, under that very little hillock 
 where you have placed yourselves ; and no bad 
 seat does it make neither, though it be raised by 
 the bones of mortal men.” 
 
 Heyward and the sisters arose, on the instant, 
 from the grassy sepulchre ; nor could the two latter, 
 notwithstanding the terrific scenes they had so re- 
 cently passed through, entirely suppress an emo- 
 tion of natural horror, when they found themselves 
 in such familiar contact with the grave of the 
 dead Mohawks. The gray light, the gloomy little 
 area of dark grass, surrounded by its border of 
 brush, beyond which the pines rose, in breathing 
 silence, apparently, into the very clouds, and the 
 death-like stillness of the vast forest, were all in 
 unison to deepen such a sensation. 
 
 “They are gone, and they are harmless,” con- 
 tinued Hawk-eye, waving his hand, with a melan- 
 choly smile, at their manifest alarm; “they’ll 
 never shout the War-whoop nor strike a blow with 
 the tomahawk again ! And of all those who aided 
 in placing them where they lie, Chingachgook and 
 I only are living ! The brothers and family of 
 the Mohican formed our war-party ; and you see 
 Defore you all that are now left of his race.” 
 
 The eyes of the listeners involuntarily sought 
 the forms of the Indians, with a compassionate in- 
 terest in their desolate fortune. Their dark per- 
 sons were still to be seen within the shadows of 
 the block-house, the son listening to the relation 
 of his father with that sort of intenseness which 
 would be created by a narrative that redounded so 
 much to the honor of those whose names he had 
 long revered for their courage and savage virtues. 
 
 “ I had thought the Delawares a pacific peo- 
 ple,” said Duncan, “and that they never waged 
 war in person ; trusting the defence of their lands 
 to those very Mohawks that you slew ! ” 
 
 “ ’ Tis true in part,” returned the scout, “ and 
 yet, at the bottom, ’tis a wicked lie. Such a 
 treaty was made in ages gone by, through the 
 deviltries of the Dutchers, who wished to disarm 
 the natives that had the best right to the country, 
 where they had settled themselves. The Mohi- 
 cans, though a part of the same nation, having to 
 deal with the English, never entered into the silly 
 bargain, but kept to their manhood ; as in truth 
 did the Delawares, when their eyes were opened 
 to their folly. You see before you a chief of the 
 great Mohican sagamores ! Once his family could 
 chase their deer over tracts of country wider than 
 tnat which belongs to the Albany Patteroon, with- 
 out crossing brook or hill that was not their 
 own • but what is left to their descendant ? He 
 
 . 20 
 
 may find his six feet of eai th when God chooses, 
 and keep it in peace, perhaps, if he has a friend 
 who will take the pains to sink his head so low, 
 that the ploughshares cannot reach it ! ” 
 
 “ Enough ! said Heyward, apprehensive that 
 the subject might lead to a discussion that would 
 interrupt the harmony so necessary to the preser- 
 vation of his fair companions ; “ we have jour- 
 neyed far, and few among us are blessed with 
 forms like that of yours, which seems to know 
 neither fatigue nor weakness.” 
 
 “ The sinews and bones of a man carry me 
 through it all,” said the hunter, surveying his 
 muscular limbs with a simplicity that betrayed 
 the honest pleasure the compliment afforded him ; 
 “ there are larger and heavier men to be found in 
 the settlements, but you might travel many days 
 in a city before you could meet one able to walk 
 fifty miles without stopping to take breath, or 
 who has kept the hounds within hearing during 
 a chase of hours. However, as flesh and blood 
 are not always the same, it is quite reasonable to 
 suppose that the gentle ones are willing to rest, 
 after all they have seen and done this day. — Uncas, 
 clear out the spring, while your father and I make 
 a cover for their tender heads of those chestnut- 
 shoots, and a bed of grass and leaves.” 
 
 The dialogue ceased, while the hunter and his 
 companions busied themselves in preparations for 
 the comfort and protection of those they guided. 
 A spring, which many long years before had in- 
 duced the natives to select the place for their 
 temporary fortification, was soon cleared of leaves, 
 and a fountain of crystal gushed from the bed, 
 diffusing its waters over the verdant hillock. A 
 corner of the building was then roofed in such a 
 manner as to exclude the heavy dew of the cli- 
 mate, and piles of sweet shrubs and dried leaves 
 were laid beneath it for the sisters to repose on. 
 
 While the diligent woodsmen were employed 
 in this manner, Cora and Alice partook of that 
 refreshment which duty required much more than 
 inclination prompted them to accept. They then 
 retired within the walls, and first offering up 
 their thanksgivings for past mercies, and petition- 
 ing for a continuance of the Divine favor through- 
 out the coming night, they laid their tender forms 
 on the fragrant couch, and in spite of recollec- 
 tions and forebodings, soon sank into those slum- 
 bers which Nature so imperiously demanded, and 
 which were sweetened by hopes for the morrow, 
 Duncan had prepared himself to pass the night in 
 watchfulness near them, just without the ruin, but 
 the scout, perceiving his intention, pointed toward 
 Chingachgook, as he coolly disposed his own per- 
 son on the grass, and said : 
 
64 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “ The eyes of a white man are too heavy and 
 too blind for such a watch as this ! The Mohican 
 will be our sentinel; therefore, let us sleep.” 
 
 “ I proved myself a sluggard on my post dur- 
 ing the past night,” said Heyward, “ and have 
 less need of repose than you, who did more credit 
 to the character of a soldier. Let all the party 
 seek their rest, while I hold the guard.” 
 
 “ If we lay among the white tents of the 60th, 
 and in front of an enemy like the French, I could 
 not ask for a better watchman,” returned the 
 scout; “ but in the darkness and among the signs 
 of the wilderness, your judgment would be like 
 the folly of a child, and your vigilance thrown 
 away. Do, then, like Uncas and myself, sleep, 
 and sleep in safety.” 
 
 Heyward perceived, in truth, that the younger 
 Indian had thrown his form on the side of the 
 hillock while they were talking, like one who 
 sought to make the most of the time allotted to 
 rest, and that his example had been followed by 
 David, whose voice literally “ clove to his jaws ” 
 with the fever of his wound, heightened as it was 
 by their toilsome march. Unwilling to prolong a 
 useless discussion, the young man affected to 
 comply, by posting his back against the logs of 
 the block-house, in a half-recumbent posture, 
 though resolutely determined, in his ow r n mind, 
 not to close an eye until he had delivered his pre- 
 cious charge into the arms of Munro himself. 
 Hawk-eye, believing he had prevailed, soon fell 
 asleep, and a silence as deep as the solitude in 
 which they had found it, pervaded the retired 
 spot. 
 
 For many minutes Duncan succeeded in keep- 
 ing his senses on the alert, and alive to every 
 moaning sound that arose from the forest. His 
 vision became more acute as the shades of even- 
 ing settled on the place ; and even after the stars 
 were glimmering above his head, he was able to 
 distinguish the recumbent forms of his compan- 
 ions, as they lay stretched on the grass, and to 
 note the person of Chingachgook, who sat up- 
 right and motionless as one of the trees which 
 formed the dark barrier on every side of them. 
 He still heard the gentle breathings of the sis- 
 ters, who lay within a few feet of him, and not a 
 leaf was ruffled by the passing air, of which his 
 ear did not detect the whispering sound. At 
 length, however, the mournful notes of a whip- 
 poor-will became blended with the moanings of 
 an owl ; his heavy eyes occasionally sought the 
 bright rays of the stars, and then he fancied he 
 saw them through the fallen lids. At instants of 
 momentary wakefulness he mistook a bush for 
 his associate sentinel ; his head next sank upon 
 
 his shoulder, which, in its turn, sought the sup. 
 port of the ground ; and, finally, his whole per- 
 son became relaxed and pliant, and the young 
 man sank into a sleep, dreaming that he was a 
 knight of ancient chivalry, holding his midnight 
 vigils before the tent of a recaptured princess, 
 whose favor he did not despair of gaining, by 
 such a proof of devotion and watchfulness. 
 
 How long the tired Duncan lay in this insen- 
 sible state he never knew himself, but his slum- 
 bering visions had been long lost in total forget- 
 fulness, when he was awakened by a light tap on 
 the shoulder. Aroused by this signal, slight as it 
 was, he sprang upon his feet with a confused recol- 
 lection of the self-imposed duty he had assumed 
 with the commencement of the night. 
 
 “ Who comes ? ” he demanded, feeling for his 
 sword, at the place where it was usually suspend- 
 ed. “ Speak ! friend or enemy ? ” 
 
 “Friend,” replied the low voice of Chingach- 
 gook ; who, pointing upward at the luminary 
 which was shedding its mild light through the 
 opening in the trees, directly on their bivouac, im- 
 mediately added, in his rude English, “moon 
 comes, and white man’s fort far — far off ; time to 
 move, when sleep shuts both eyes of the French- 
 man ! ” 
 
 “You say true! call up your friends, and bri- 
 dle the horses, while I prepare my own companions 
 for the march ! ” 
 
 “ We are awake, Duncan,” said the soft, sil- 
 very tones of Alice within the building, “and 
 ready to travel very fast, after so refreshing a 
 sleep ; but you have watched through the tedious 
 night in our behalf, after having endured so much 
 fatigue the livelong day ! ” 
 
 “ Say, rather, I would have watched, but my 
 treacherous eyes betrayed me ; twice have I proved 
 myself unfit for the trust I bear.” 
 
 “Nay, Duncan, deny it not,” interrupted the 
 smiling Alice, issuing from the shadows of the 
 building into the light of the moon, in all the 
 loveliness of her freshened beauty ; “ I know you 
 to be a heedless one, when self is the object of 
 your care, and but too vigilant in favor of others. 
 Can we not tarry here a little longer, while you 
 find the rest you need ? Cheerfully, most cheer- 
 fully, will Cora and I keep the vigils, while you, 
 and all these brave men, endeavor to snatch a 
 little sleep ! ” 
 
 “ If shame could cure me of my drowsiness, 1 
 should never close an eye again,” said the uneasy 
 youth, gazing at the ingenuous countenance of 
 Alice, where, however, in its sweet solicitude, he 
 read nothing to confirm his half-awakeLed sus- 
 picion. “ It is but too true that, after leading 
 
REAPPEARANCE OF THE HURONS. 
 
 65 
 
 you into danger by my heedlessness, I have not 
 even the merit of guarding your pillows as should 
 become a soldier.” 
 
 “No one but Duncan himself should accuse 
 Duncan of such a weakness. Go, then, and sleep ; 
 believe me, neither of us, weak girls as we are, 
 will betray our watch.” 
 
 The young man was relieved from the awk- 
 wardness of making any further protestations of 
 his own demerits, by an exclamation from Chin- 
 gachgook, and the attitude of riveted attention 
 assumed by his son. 
 
 “ The Mohicans hear an enemy ! ” whispered 
 Hawk-eye, who, by this time, in common with the 
 whole party, was awake and stirring. “ They 
 scent danger in the wind ! ” 
 
 “ God forbid ! ” exclaimed Heyward. “ Surely 
 we have had enough of bloodshed ! ” 
 
 While he spoke, however, the young soldier 
 seized his rifle, and, advancing toward the front, 
 prepared to atone for his venial remissness, by 
 freely exposing his life in defence of those he at- 
 tended. 
 
 “ ’Tis some creature of the forest prowling 
 around us in quest of food,” he said, in a whisper, 
 as soon as the low and apparently distant sounds, 
 which had startled the Mohicans, reached his own 
 
 ears. 
 
 “ Hist ! ” returned the attentive scout ; “ ’tis 
 man ; even I can now tell his tread, poor as my 
 senses are when compared to an Indian’s ! That 
 scampering Huron has fallen in with one of Mont- 
 calm’s outlying parties and they have strubk upon 
 our trail. I shouldn’t like, myself, to spill more 
 human blood in this spot,” he added, looking 
 around with anxiety in his features, at the dim 
 objects by which he was surrounded ; “ but what 
 must be, must ! — Lead the horses into the block- 
 house, Uncas ; and, friends, do you follow to the 
 same shelter. Poor and old as it is, it offers a 
 cover, and has rung with the crack of a rifle afore 
 to-night ! ” 
 
 He was instantly obeyed, the Mohicans leading 
 -he Narragansets within the ruin, whither the 
 whole party repaired, with the most guarded 
 silence. The sounds of approaching footsteps 
 were now too distinctly audible, to leave any 
 doubts as to the nature of the interruption. They 
 were soon mingled with voices calling to each 
 other in an Indian dialect which the hunter, in a 
 whisper, alflrmed to Heyward was the language 
 of the Hurons. When the party reached the 
 point where the horses had entered the thicket 
 which surrounded the block-house, they were 
 evidently at fault, having lost those marks which, 
 until this moment, had directed their pursuit. 
 
 5 
 
 It would seem by the voices that twenty men 
 were soon collected at that one spot, mingling 
 their different opinions and advice in noisy 
 clamor. 
 
 “ The knaves know our weakness,” whispered 
 Hawk-eye, who stood by the side of Heyward, in 
 deep shade, looking through an opening in the 
 logs, “ or they wouldn’t indulge their idleness in 
 such a squaw’s march. Listen to the reptiles ! 
 each man among them seems to have two tongues, 
 and but a single leg.” 
 
 Duncan, brave as he was in combat, could not, 
 in such a moment of painful suspense, make any 
 reply to the cool and characteristic remark of 
 the scout. He only grasped his rifle more firmly, 
 and fastened his eyes upon the narrow open- 
 ing, through which he gazed upon the moonlight 
 view with increasing anxiety. The deeper tones 
 of one who spoke as having authority were next 
 heard, amid a silence that denoted the respect 
 with which his orders, or rather advice, was re- 
 ceived. After which, by the rustling leaves, and 
 cracking of dried twigs, it was apparent the sav- 
 ages were separating in pursuit of the lost trail. 
 Fortunately for the pursued, the light of the moon, 
 while it shed a flood of mild lustre upon the little 
 area around the ruin, was not sufficiently strong 
 to penetrate the deep arches of the forest, where 
 the objects still lay in deceptive shadow. The 
 search proved fruitless ; for so short and sudden 
 had been the passage from the faint path the 
 travellers had journeyed into the thicket, that 
 every trace of their footsteps was lost in the ob- 
 scurity of the woods. 
 
 It was not long, however, before the restless 
 savages were heard beating the brush, and gradu- 
 ally approaching the inner edge of that dense 
 border of young chestnuts which encircled the 
 little area. 
 
 “ They are coming,” muttered Heyward, en- 
 deavoring to thrust his rifle through the chink in 
 the logs ; “let us fire on their approach.” 
 
 “Keep every thing in the Shade,” returned 
 the scout ; “ the snapping of a flint, or even the 
 smell of a single karnel of the brimstone, would 
 bring the hungry varlets upon us in a body. 
 Should it please God that we must give battle 
 for the scalps, trust to the experience of men 
 who know the ways of the savages, and who 
 are not often backward when the war-whoop is 
 howled.” 
 
 Duncan cast his eyes behind him, and saw 
 that the trembling sisters were cowering in the 
 far corner of the building, while the Mohicans 
 stood in the shadow, like two upright posts, ready, 
 and apparently willing, to strike, when the blow 
 
56 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 should b« needed. Curbing his impatience, he 
 again looked out upon the area, and awaited the re- 
 sult in silence. At that instant, the thicket opened, 
 and a tall and armed Huron advanced a few paces 
 ipto the open space. As he gazed upon the silent 
 block-house, the moon fell full upon his swarthy 
 countenance, and betrayed its surprise and curi- 
 osity. He made the exclamation which usually 
 accompanies the former emotion in an Indian, 
 and, calling in a low voice, soon drew a compan- 
 ion to his side. 
 
 These children of the woods stood together 
 for several moments pointing at the crumbling 
 edifice, and conversing in the unintelligible lan- 
 guage of their tribe. They then approached, 
 though with slow and cautious steps, pausing 
 every instant to look at the building, like startled 
 deer, whose curiosity struggled powerfully with 
 their awakened apprehensions for the mastery. 
 The foot of one of them suddenly rested on the 
 mound, and he stooped to examine its nature. 
 At this moment, Heyward observed that the scout 
 loosened his knife in its sheath, and lowered the 
 muzzle of his rifle. Imitating these movements, 
 the young man prepared himself for the struggle, 
 which now seemed inevitable. 
 
 The savages were so near, that the least mo- 
 tion in one of the horses, or even a breath louder 
 than common, would have betrayed the fugitives. 
 But, in discovering the character of the mound, 
 the attention of the Hurons appeared directed to 
 a different object. They spoke together, and the 
 sounds of their voices were low and solemn, as if 
 influenced by a reverence that was deeply blended 
 with awe. Then they drew warily back, keeping 
 their eyes riveted on the ruin, as if they expected 
 to see the apparitions of the dead issue from its 
 silent walls, until, having reached the boundary 
 of the area, they moved slowly into the thicket, 
 and disappeared. 
 
 Hawk-eye dropped the breech of his rifle to 
 the earth, and drawing a long, free breath, ex- 
 claimed in an audible whisper : 
 
 “ Ay ! they respect the dead, and it has this 
 time saved their own lives, and, it may be, the 
 lives of better men too.” 
 
 Heyward lent his attention, for a single mo- 
 ment, to his companion, but, without replying, he 
 again turned toward those who just then inter- 
 ested him more. He heard the two Hurons leave 
 the bushes, and it was soon plain that all the pur- 
 guers were gathered about them, in deep attention 
 to their report. After a few minutes of earnest 
 and solemn dialogue, altogether different from 
 the noisy Ciamor with which they had first col- 
 lected about the spot, the sounds grew fainter 
 
 and more distant, and finally were lost in the 
 depths of the forest. 
 
 Hawk-eye waited until a signal from the listen- 
 ing Chingachgook assured him, that every sound 
 from the retiring party was completely swallowed 
 by the distance, when he motioned to Heyward 
 to lead forth the horses, and to assist the sister* 
 into their saddles. The instant this was done, 
 they issued through the broken gate-way, and, 
 stealing out by a direction opposite to the one 
 by which they had entered, they quitted the spot, 
 the sisters casting furtive glances at the silent 
 grave and crumbling ruin, as they left the soft 
 light of the moon, to bury themselves in the gloom 
 of the woods. 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 “ Guard . — Qui eat U ? 
 
 “ Pug. — Paisans, pauvres gens de France. 
 
 King Henky VI, 
 
 During the rapid movement from the block- 
 house, and until the party was deeply buried in 
 the forest, each individual was too much inter- 
 ested in the escape to hazard a word even in 
 whispers. The scout resumed his post in the ad- 
 vance, though his steps, after he had thrown a 
 safe distance between himself and his enemies, 
 were more deliberate than in their previous march, 
 in consequence of his utter ignorance of the lo- 
 calities of the surrounding woods. More than 
 once he halted to consult with his confederates, 
 the Mohicans, pointing upward at the moon, and 
 examining the barks of the trees with care. In 
 these brief pauses, Heyward and the sisters lis- 
 tened, with senses rendered doubly acute by the 
 danger, to detect any symptoms which might an- 
 nounce the proximity of their foes. At such mo- 
 ments, it seemed as if a vast range of country lay 
 buried in eternal sleep ; not the least sound aris- 
 ing from the forest, unless it was the distant and 
 scarcely-audible rippling of a water-course. Birds, 
 beasts, and man, appeared to slumber alike, if, 
 indeed, any of the latter were to be found in that 
 wide tract of wilderness. But the sounds of the 
 rivulet, feeble and murmuring as they were, re- 
 lieved the guides at once from no trifling embar- 
 rassment, and toward it they immediately held 
 their way. 
 
 When the banks of the little stream were 
 gained, Hawk-eye made another halt ; and, tak- 
 ing the moccasins from his feet, he invited Hey- 
 ward and Gamut to follow his example. He then 
 entered the water, and for near an hour they 
 
THE BLOODY POND.” 
 
 67 
 
 travelled in the bed of the brook, leaving no trail. 
 The moon had already sunk into an immense pile 
 of black clouds, which lay impending above the 
 western horizon, when they issued from the low 
 and devious water-course to rise again to the 
 light and level of the sandy but wooded plain. 
 Here the scout seemed to be once more at home, 
 for he held on his way with the certainty and 
 diligence of a man who moved in the security of 
 his own knowledge. The path soon became more 
 uneven, and the travellers could plainly perceive 
 that the mountains drew nigher to them on each 
 hand, and that they were, in truth, about enter- 
 ing one of their gorges. Suddenly, Hawk-eye 
 made a pause, and, waiting until he was joined by 
 the whole party, he spoke, though in tones so low 
 and cautious that they added to the solemnity 
 of his words, in the quiet and darkness of the 
 place. 
 
 “It is easy to know the pathways, and to 
 find the licks and water-courses of the wilder- 
 ness,” he said ; “ but who that saw this spot 
 could venture to say that a mighty army was at 
 rest among yonder silent trees and barren moun- 
 tains ? ” 
 
 “We are, then, at no great distance from 
 William Henry?” said Heyward, advancing 
 nigher to the scout. 
 
 “ It is yet a long and weary path, and when 
 and where to strike it is now our greatest difficulty. 
 See,” he said, pointing through the trees toward 
 a spot where a little basin of water reflected the 
 stars from its placid bosom, “ here is the ‘bloody 
 pond ; ’ and I am on ground that I have not only 
 often travelled, but over which I have fou’t the 
 enemy, from the rising to the setting sun.” 
 
 “ Ha ! that sheet of dull and dreary water, 
 then, is the sepulchre of the brave men who fell 
 in the contest. I have heard it named, but never 
 have I stood on its banks before.” 
 
 “ Three battles did we make with the Dutch- 
 Frenchman* in a day,” continued Hawk-eye, 
 pursuing the train of his own thoughts, rather 
 than replying to the remark of Duncan. “ He 
 met us hard by, in our outward march to ambush 
 his advance, and scattered us, like driven deer, 
 through the defile, to the shores of Horican. 
 Then we rallied behind our fallen trees, and made 
 head against him, under Sir William — who was 
 made Sir William for that very deed ; and well 
 did we pay him for the disgrace of the morning. 
 Hundreds of Frenchmen saw the sun that day 
 
 • Baron Dieskau, a German, in the service of France. 
 A few years previously to the period of the tale, this offi- 
 eer was defeated by Sir William Johnson, of Johnstown, 
 New York, on the shores of Lake George. 
 
 for the last time ; and even their leader, Dieskau, 
 himself, fell into our hands, so cut and torn with 
 the lead, that he has gone back to his own coun- 
 try, unfit for further acts in war.” 
 
 “ ’Twas a noble repulse ! ” exclaimed Heyward, 
 in the heat of his youthful ardor ; “ the fame of 
 it reached us early, in our southern army.” 
 
 “ Ay ! but it did not end there. I was sent 
 by Major Effingham, at Sir William’s own bid- 
 ding, to outflank the French, and carry the tid- 
 ings of their disaster across the portage, to the 
 fort on the Hudson. Just hereaway, where you 
 see the trees rise into a mountain-swell, I met a 
 party coming down to our aid, and I led them 
 where the enemy were taking their meal, little 
 dreaming that they had not finished the bloody 
 work of the day.” 
 
 “And you surprised them ? ” 
 
 “ If death can be a surprise to men who are 
 thinking only of the cravings of their appetites. 
 We gave them but little breathing-time, for they 
 had borne hard upon us in the fight of the morn- 
 ing, and there were few in our party who had not 
 lost friend or relative by their hands. When all 
 was over, the dead, and some say the dying, were 
 cast into that little pond. These eyes have seen 
 its waters colored with blood, as natural water 
 never yet flowed from the bowels of the ’arth.” 
 
 “ It was a convenient, and, I trust, will prove 
 a peaceful grave for a soldier. You have, then, 
 seen much service on this frontier ? ” 
 
 “ I ! ” said the scout, erecting his tall person 
 with an air of military pride ; “ there are not 
 many echoes among these hills that haven’t rung 
 with the crack of my rifle, nor is there the space 
 of a square mile atwixt Horican and the river, 
 that ‘ Kill Deer ’ hasn’t dropped a living body on, 
 be it an enemy or be it a brute beast. As for 
 the grave there being as quiet as you mention, it 
 is another matter. There are them in the camp 
 who say and think, man, to lie still, should not 
 be buried while the breath is in the body ; and 
 certain it is that in the hurry of that evening, 
 the doctors had but little time to say who was 
 living and who was dead. Hist ! see you nothing 
 walking on the shore of the pond ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis not probable that any are as houseless 
 as ourselves, in this dreary forest.” 
 
 “ Such as he may care but little for house or 
 shelter, and night dew can never wet a body that 
 passes its days in the water,” returned the scout, 
 grasping the shoulder of Heyward with such con- 
 vulsive strength as to make the young soldier 
 painfully sensible how much superstitious terror 
 had got the mastery of a man usually so daunt- 
 less. 
 
68 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “ By Heaven ! there is a human form, and it 
 approaches ! Stand to your arms, my friends ; for 
 we know not whom we encounter.” 
 
 “ Qui vive ? ” demanded a stern, quick voice, 
 which sounded like a challenge from another 
 world, issuing out of that solitary and solemn 
 place. 
 
 “ What says it ? ” whispered the scout ; “ it 
 speaks neither Indian nor English ! ” 
 
 “ Qui vive ? ” repeated the same voice, which 
 was quickly followed by the rattling of arms, and 
 a menacing attitude. 
 
 “ France ! ” cried Heyward, advancing from 
 the shadow of the trees to the shore of the pond, 
 within a few yards of the sentinel. 
 
 “ D’ou venez-vous — ou allez-vous, d’ausgi 
 bonne heure ? ” demanded the grenadier, in the 
 language and with the accent of a man from old 
 France. 
 
 “ Je viens de la decouverte, et je vais roe 
 coucher.” 
 
 “ Etes-vous officier du roi ? ” 
 
 “ Sans doute, mon camarade ; me prends-tu 
 pour un provincial ! Je suis capitaine de chas- 
 seurs ” (Heyward well knew that the other was of 
 a regiment in the line) — “j’ai ici, avec moi, les 
 lilies du commandant de la fortification. Aha ! tu 
 en as entendu parler ! je les ai fait prisonnieres 
 pres de l’autre fort, et je les conduis au general.” 
 
 “ Ma foi ! mesdames ; j’en suis fache pour 
 vous,” exclaimed the young soldier, touching his 
 cap with grace ; “ mais — fortune de guerre ! 
 vous trouverez notre general un brave homme, et 
 bien poli avec les dames.” 
 
 “ C’est le caractere des gens de guerre,” said 
 Cora, with admirable self-possession. “Adieu, 
 mon ami; je vous souhaiterais un devoir plus 
 igreable k remplir.” 
 
 The soldier made a low and humble ac- 
 knowledgment for her civility ; and Heyward add- 
 ing a “ bonne nuit, mon camarade,” they moved 
 deliberately forward, leaving the sentinel pacing 
 the banks of the silent pond, little suspecting an 
 enemy of so much effrontery, and humming to 
 himself those words, which were recalled to his 
 mind by the sight of women, and perhaps by 
 recollections of his own distant and beautiful 
 France — 
 
 “Yive le yin, vive l'amour,” etc., etc. 
 
 “ ’Tis well you understand the knave ! ” whis- 
 pered the scout when they had gained a little 
 distance from the place, and letting his rifle fall 
 into the hollow of his arm again ; “ I soon saw that 
 he was one of them uneasy Frenchers ; and well 
 Cot him it was that his speech was friendly and his 
 
 wishes kind, or a place might have been found 
 for his bones among those of his countrymen.” 
 
 He was interrupted by a long and heavy groan 
 which arose from the little basin, as though, in 
 truth, the spirits of the departed lingered about 
 their watery sepulchre. 
 
 “ Surely it was of flesh ! ” continued the scout \ 
 “ no spirit could handle its arms so steadily ! ” 
 
 “ It was of flesh ; but whether the poor fellow 
 still belongs to this world may well be doubted,” 
 said Heyward, glancing his eyes around him, and 
 missing Chingachgook from their little band. 
 Another groan more faint than the former, was 
 succeeded by a heavy and sullen plunge into the 
 water, and all was as still again as if the borders 
 of the dreary pool had never been awakened 
 from the silence of creation. While they yet 
 hesitated in uncertainty, the form of the Indian 
 was seen gliding out of the thicket. As the chief 
 rejoined them, with one hand he attached the 
 reeking scalp of the unfortunate young French- 
 man to his girdle, and with the other he replaced 
 the knife and tomahawk that had drunk his blood. 
 He then took his wonted station, with the air of 
 a man who believed he had done a deed of merit. 
 
 The scout dropped one end of his rifle to the 
 earth, and leaning his hands on the other, he 
 stood musing in profound silence. Then, shaking 
 his head in a mournful manner, he muttered : 
 
 “’Twould have been a cruel and an unhuman 
 act for a white man ; but ’tis the gift and natur’ 
 of an Indian, and I suppose it should not be de- 
 nied. I could wish, though, it had befallen an 
 accursed Mingo, rather than that gay young boy 
 from the old countries.” 
 
 “ Enough ! ”, said Heyward, apprehensive the 
 unconscious sisters might comprehend the nature 
 of their detention, and conquering his disgust by 
 a train of reflections* very much like that of the 
 hunter; “’tis done; and, though better it were 
 left undone, cannot be amended. You see we 
 are, too obviously, within the sentinels of the 
 enemy ; what course do you propose to follow ? ” 
 
 “ Yes,” said Hawk-eye, rousing himself again, 
 “ ’tis, as you say, too late to harbor further 
 thoughts about it. Ay, the French have gathered 
 around the fort in good earnest, and we have a 
 delicate needle to thread in passing them.” 
 
 “ And but little time to do it in,” added Hey- 
 ward, glancing his eyes upward, toward the bank 
 of vapor that concealed the setting moon. 
 
 “ And little time to do it in ! ” repeated the 
 scout. “ The thing may be done in two fashions, 
 by the help of Providence, without which it may 
 not be done at all.” 
 
 “Name them quickly, for time presses.’ 
 
A. DANGEROUS SITUATION. 
 
 69 
 
 “ One would be to dismount the gentle ones, 
 tnd let their beasts range the plain; by sending 
 the Mohicans in front, we might then cut a lane 
 through their sentries, and enter the fort over the 
 dead bodies.” 
 
 “It will not do — it will not do ! ” interrupted 
 the generous Heyward ; “ a soldier might force his 
 way in this manner, but never with such a convoy.” 
 
 “ ’Twould be, indeed, a bloody path for such 
 tender feet to wade in,” returned the equally re- 
 luctant scout; “but I thought it befitting my 
 manhood to name it. We must then turn on our 
 trail, and get without the line of their lookouts, 
 when we will bend short to the west, and enter 
 the mountains ; where I can hide you, so that all 
 the devil’s hounds in Montcalm’s pay would be 
 thrown off the scent for months to come.” 
 
 “ Let it be done, and that instantly.” 
 
 Further words were unnecessary ; for Hawk- 
 eye, merely uttering the mandate to “ follow,” 
 moved along the route by which they had just 
 entered their present critical and even dangerous 
 situation. Their progress, like their late dialogue, 
 was guarded, and without noise ; for none knew 
 at what moment a passing patrol, or a crouching 
 picket, of the enemy, might rise upon their path. 
 As they held their silent way along the margin of 
 the pond, again Heyward and the scout stole fur- 
 tive glances at its appalling dreariness. They 
 looked in vain for the form they had so recently 
 seen stalking along its silent shores, while a low 
 and regular wash of the little waves, by announc- 
 ing that the waters were not yet subsided, fur- 
 nished a frightful memorial of the deed of blood 
 they had just witnessed. Like all that passing 
 and gloomy scene, the low basin, however, quick- 
 ly melted in the darkness, and became, blended 
 with the mass of black objects in the rear of the 
 travellers. 
 
 Hawk-eye soon deviated from the line of their 
 retreat, and, striking off toward the mountains 
 which form the western boundary of the narrow 
 plain, he led his followers, with swift steps, deep 
 within the shadows that were cast from their high 
 and broken summits. The route was now pain- 
 ful; lying over ground ragged with rocks, and 
 intersected with ravines, and their progress pro- 
 portionately slow. Bleak and black hills lay on 
 every side of them, compensating in some degree 
 for the additional toil of the march, by the sense 
 of security they imparted. At length the party 
 began slowly to rise a steep and rugged ascent, 
 by a path that curiously wound among rocks and 
 trees, avoiding the one, and supported by the 
 other, in a manner that showed it had been de- 
 vised by men long practised in the arts of the 
 
 wilderness. As they gradually rose from the 
 level of the valleys, the thick darkness which usu- 
 ally precedes the approach of day began to dis- 
 perse, and objects were seen in the plain and pal- 
 pable colors with which they had been gifted by 
 Nature. When they issued from the stunted 
 woods which clung to the barren sides of the 
 mountain, upon a flat and mossy rock that formed 
 its summit, they met the morning, as it came 
 blushing above the green pines of a hill that lay 
 on the opposite side of the valley of the Horican. 
 
 The scout now told the sisters to dismount ; 
 and taking the bridles from the mouths, and the 
 saddles off the backs of the jaded beasts, he 
 turned them loose, to glean a scanty subsistence 
 among the shrubs and meagre herbage of that 
 elevated region. 
 
 “ Go,” he said, “ and seek your food where 
 Natur’ gives it you ; and beware that you become 
 not food to ravenous wolves yourselves, among 
 these hills.” 
 
 “Have we no further need of them?” de- 
 manded Heyward. 
 
 “See, and judge with your own eyes,” said 
 the scout, advancing toward the eastern brow of 
 the mountain, whither he beckoned for the whole 
 party to follow ; “ if it was as easy to look into 
 the heart of man as it is to spy out the nakedness 
 of Montcalm’s camp from this spot, hypocrites 
 would grow scarce, and the cunning of a Mingo 
 might prove a losing game, compared to the hon- 
 esty of a Delaware.” 
 
 When the travellers reached the verge of the 
 precipice, they saw at a glance the truth of the 
 scout’s declaration, and the admirable foresight 
 with which he had led them to their commanding 
 station. 
 
 The mountain on which they stood, elevated, 
 perhaps, a thousand feet in the air, was a high 
 cone that rose a little in advance of that range 
 which stretches for miles along the western shores 
 of the lake, until meeting its sister-piles, beyond 
 the water, it ran off toward the Canadas, in con- 
 fused and broken masses of rock thinly sprinkled 
 with evergreens. Immediately at the feet of the 
 party, the southern shore of the Horican swept 
 in a broad semicircle, from mountain to mountain, 
 marking a wide strand, that soon rose into an 
 uneven and somewhat elevated plain. To the 
 north, stretched the limpid, and, as it appeared 
 from that dizzy height, the narrow sheet of the 
 “holy lake,” indented with numberless bays, em- 
 bellished by fantastic headlands, and dotted with 
 countless islands. At the distance of a few 
 leagues, the bed of the waters became lost among 
 mountains, or was wrapped in the masses of v»- 
 
70 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 por that came slowly rolling along their bosom, 
 before a light morning air. But a narrow open- 
 ing between the crests of the hills pointed out the 
 passage by which they found their way still far- 
 ther north, to spread their pure and ample sheets 
 again, before pouring out their tribute into the 
 distant Champlain. To the south stretched the 
 defile, or rather broken plain, so often mentioned. 
 For several miles in this direction, the mountains 
 appeared reluctant to yield their dominion, but 
 within reach of the eye they diverged, and finally 
 melted into the level and sandy lands, across 
 which we have accompanied our adventurers in 
 their double journey. Along both ranges of hills, 
 which bounded the opposite sides of the lake and 
 valley, clouds of light vapor were rising in spiral 
 wreaths from the uninhabited woods, looking 
 like the smokes of hidden cottages ; or rolled 
 lazily down the declivities, to mingle with the 
 fogs of the lower land. A single, solitary, snow- 
 white cloud floated above the valley, and marked 
 the spot beneath which lay the silent pool of the 
 “ bloody pond.” 
 
 Directly on the shore of the lake, and nearer 
 to its western than to its eastern margin, lay the 
 extensive earthen ramparts and low buildings of 
 William Henry. Two of the sweeping bastions 
 appeared to rest on the water which washed their 
 bases, while a deep ditch and extensive morasses 
 guarded its other sides and angles. The land had 
 been cleared of wood for a reasonable distance 
 around the work, but every other part of the scene 
 lay in the green livery of Nature, except where the 
 limpid water mellowed the view, or the bold rocks 
 thrust their black and naked heads above the un- 
 dulating outline of the mountain-ranges. In its 
 front might be seen the scattered sentinels, who 
 held a weary watch against their numerous foes ; 
 and, within the walls themselves, the travellers 
 looked down upon men still drowsy with a night 
 of vigilance. Toward the southeast, but in im- 
 mediate contact with the fort, was an intrenched 
 camp, posted on a rocky eminence, that would 
 have been far more eligible for the work itself, in 
 which Hawk-eye pointed out the presence of 
 those auxiliary regiments that had so recently 
 left the Hudson in their company. From the 
 woods, a little farther to the south, rose numerous 
 dark and lurid smokes, that were easily to be dis- 
 tinguished from the purer exhalations of the 
 springs, and which the scout also showed to Hey- 
 ward, as evidences that the enemy lay in force in 
 that direction. 
 
 But the spectacle which most concerned the 
 >oung soldier was on the western bank of the 
 lake, though quite near to its southern termina- 
 
 tion. On a strip of land, which appeared, froft 
 his stand, too narrow to contain such an army, 
 but which, in truth, extended many hundreds of 
 yards from the shores of the Horican to the base 
 of the mountain, were to be seen the white tents 
 and military engines of an encampment of ten 
 thousand men. Batteries were already thrown 
 up in their front, and even while the spectators 
 above them were looking down, with such differ- 
 ent emotions, on a scene which lay like a map be- 
 neath their feet, the roar of artillery rose from the 
 valley, and passed off in thundering echoes along 
 the eastern hills. 
 
 “ Morning is just touching them below,” said 
 the deliberate and musing scout, “ and the watch- 
 ers have a mind to wake up the sleepers by the 
 sound of cannon. We are a few hours too late! 
 Montcalm has already filled the woods with his 
 accursed Iroquois.” 
 
 “The place is, indeed, invested,” returned 
 Duncan, “but is there no expedient by which we 
 may enter ? Capture in the works would be far 
 preferable to falling again into the hands of roving 
 Indians.” 
 
 “ See ! ” exclaimed the scout, unconsciously 
 directing the attention of Cora to the quarters of 
 her own father, “ how that shot has made the 
 stones fly from the side of the commandant’s 
 house ! Ay ! these Frenchers will pull it to 
 pieces faster than it was put together, solid and 
 thick though it be.” 
 
 “Heyward, I sicken at the sight of danger 
 that I cannot share,” said the undaunted but 
 anxious daughter. “ Let us go to Montcalm and 
 demand admission : he dare not deny a child the 
 boon.” 
 
 “ You would scarce find the tent of the French- 
 man with the hair on your head,” said the blunt 
 scout. “ If I had but one of the thousand boats 
 which lie empty along that shore, it might be 
 done. Ha ! here will soon be an end of the fir- 
 ing, for yonder comes a fog that will turn day to 
 night, and make an Indian arrow more dangerous 
 than a moulded cannon. Now, if you are equal 
 to the work and will follow, I will make a push ; 
 for I long to get down into that camp, if it be 
 only to scatter some Mingo dogs that I see lurk- 
 ing in the skirts of yonder thicket of birch.” 
 
 “We are equal,” said Cora, firmly: “on such 
 an errand we will follow to any danger.” 
 
 The scout turned to her with a smile of honest 
 and cordial approbation, as he answered : 
 
 “ I would I had a thousand men, of brawny 
 limbs and quick eyes, that feared death as little 
 as you ! I’d send them jabbering Frenchers back 
 into their den again afore the week was ended 
 
SAFE ARRIVAL AT THE FORT. 
 
 71 
 
 lowling like so many fettered hounds or hungry 
 wolves. — But stir,” he added, turning from her to 
 the rest of the party, “ the fog comes rolling down 
 60 fast we shall have but just the time to meet it 
 on the plain and use it as a cover. Remember, 
 if any accident should befall me, to keep the air 
 blowing on your left cheeks— or, rather, follow 
 the Mohicans ; they’d scent their way be it in day 
 or be it at night.” 
 
 He then waved his hand for them to follow, 
 and threw himself down the steep declivity with 
 free but careful footsteps. Heyward assisted the 
 sisters to descend, and in a few minutes they were 
 all far down a mountain whose sides they had 
 climbed with so much toil and pain. 
 
 The direction taken by Hawk-eye soon brought 
 the travellers to the level of the plain, nearly op- 
 posite to a sally-port in the western curtain of 
 the fort, which lay, itself, at the distance of about 
 half a mile from the point where he halted to al- 
 low Duncan to come up with his charge. In their 
 eagerness, and favored by the nature of the ground, 
 they had anticipated the fog, which was rolling 
 heavily down the lake, and it became necessary to 
 pause until the mists had wrapped the camp of 
 the enemy in their fleecy mantle. The Mohicans 
 profited by the delay to steal out of the woods, 
 and to make a survey of surrounding objects. 
 They were followed at a little distance by the 
 scout, with a view to profit early by their report, 
 and to obtain some faint knowledge, for himself, 
 of the more immediate localities. 
 
 In a very few moments he returned, his face 
 reddened with vexation, while he muttered his 
 disappointment in words of no very gentle im- 
 port. 
 
 “ Here has the cunning Frenchman been post- 
 ing a picket directly in our path,” he said ; “ red- 
 skins and whites ; and we shall be as likely to 
 fall into their midst as to pass them in the fog ! ” 
 
 “ Cannot we make a circuit to avoid the dan- 
 ger,” asked Heyward, “ and come into our path 
 again when it is passed ? ” 
 
 “ Who that once bends from the line of his 
 march in a fog can tell when or how to turn to 
 find it again ? The mists of Horican are not like 
 the curls from a peace-pipe, or the smoke which 
 settles above a mosquito-fire.” 
 
 He was yet speaking when a crashing sound 
 was heard, and a cannon-ball entered the thicket, 
 striking the body of a sapling and rebounding to 
 the earth, its force being much expended by pre- 
 vious resistance. The Indians followed instantly 
 like busy attendants on the terrible messenger, 
 and IJncas commenced speaking earnestly, and 
 with much action, in the Delaware tongue. 
 
 It may be bo, lad,” muttered the scout, 
 when he had ended ; “ for desperate fevers are 
 not to be treated like a toothache. — Come, then, 
 the fog is shutting in.” 
 
 “ Stop ! ” cried Heyward ; “ first explain your 
 expectations.” 
 
 “ ’Tis soon done, and a small hope it is ; but 
 it is better than nothing. This shot that you 
 see,” added the scout, kicking the harmless iron 
 with his foot, “ has ploughed the ’arth in its road 
 from the fort, and we shall hunt for the furrow it 
 has made when all other signs may fail. No 
 more words, but follow, or the fog may leave us 
 in the middle of our path a mark for both armies 
 to shoot at.” 
 
 Heyward perceiving that, in fact, a crisis had 
 arrived when acts were more required than words, 
 placed himself between the sisters and drew them 
 swiftly forward, keeping the dim figure of their 
 leader in his eye. It was soon apparent that 
 Hawk-eye had not magnified the power of the 
 fog, for before they had proceeded twenty yards, 
 it was difficult for the different individuals of the 
 party to distinguish each other in the vapor. 
 
 They had made their little circuit to the left, 
 and were already inclining again toward the right, 
 having, as Heyward thought, got over nearly half 
 the distance to the friendly works, when his ears 
 were saluted with the fierce summons, apparently 
 within twenty feet of them, of — 
 
 “ Qui va R ? ” 
 
 “ Push on ! ” whispered the scout, once more 
 bending to the left. 
 
 “ Push on ! ” repeated Heyward ; when the 
 summons was renewed by a dozen voices, each 
 of which seemed charged with menace. 
 
 “ C’est moi,” cried Duncan, dragging, rather 
 than leading, those he supported swiftly onward. 
 
 “ Bete ! — qui ? — moi ! ” 
 
 “ Ami de la France.” 
 
 “ Tu m’as plus l’air d’un ennemi de la France ; 
 arrete ! ou pardieu je te ferai ami du diable. 
 Non ! feu, camarades ; feu ! ” 
 
 The order was instantly obeyed, and the fog 
 was stirred by the explosion of fifty muskets. 
 Happily, the aim was bad, and the bullets cut the 
 air in a direction a little different from that taken 
 by the fugitives ; though still so nigh them that, 
 to the unpractised ears of David and the two 
 females, it appeared as if they whistled within a 
 few inches of the organs. The outcry was re- 
 newed, and the order, not only to fire again, but 
 to pursue, was too plainly audible. When Hey- 
 ward, briefly explained the meaning of the words 
 they heard, Hawk-eye halted and spoke with 
 quick decision and great firmness. 
 
n 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “ Let us deliver our fire,” he said ; “ they will 
 believe it a sortie and give way, or they will wait 
 for reenforcements.” 
 
 The scheme was well conceived, but failed in 
 its effect. The instant the French heard the 
 pieces, it seemed as if the plain was alive with 
 men, muskets rattling along its whole extent, 
 from the shores of the lake to the farthest boun- 
 dary of the woods. 
 
 “We shall draw their entire army upon us, 
 and bring on a general assault,” said Duncan. 
 “ Lead on, my friend, for your own life and ours.” 
 
 The scout seemed willing to comply ; but, in 
 the hurry of the moment, and in the change of 
 position, he had lost the direction. In vain he 
 turned either cheek toward the light air ; they 
 felt equally cool. In this dilemma Uncas lighted 
 on the furrow of the cannon-ball, where it had 
 cut the ground in three adjacent ant-hills. 
 
 “ Give me the range ! ” said Hawk-eye, bend- 
 ing to catch a glimpse of the direction, and then 
 instantly moving onward. 
 
 Cries, oaths, voices calling to each other, and 
 the reports of muskets, were now quick and in- 
 cessant, and, apparently, on every side of them. 
 Suddenly, a strong glare of light flashed across 
 the scene, the fog rolled upward in thick wreaths, 
 and several cannon belched across the plain, and 
 the roar was thrown heavily back from the bel- 
 lowing echoes of the mountain. 
 
 “ ’Tis from the fort ! ” exclaimed Hawk-eye, 
 turning short on his tracks ; “ and we, like strick- 
 en fools, were rushing to the woods, under the 
 very knives of the Maquas.” 
 
 The instant their mistake was rectified, the 
 whole party retraced the error with the utmost 
 diligence. Duncan willingly relinquished the sup- 
 port of Cora to the arm of Uncas, and Cora as 
 readily accepted the welcome assistance. Men, 
 hot and angry in pursuit, were evidently on their 
 footsteps, and each instant threatened their cap- 
 ture, if not their destruction. 
 
 “ Point de quartier aux coquins ! ” cried an 
 eager pursuer, who seemed to direct the opera- 
 tions of the enemy. 
 
 “ Stand firm, and be ready, my gallant 60ths ! ” 
 suddenly exclaimed a voice above them ; “ wait 
 to see the enemy ; fire low, and sweep the gla- 
 cis.” 
 
 “Father ! father ! ” exclaimed a piercing cry 
 from out the mist ; “ it is I ! Alice ! thy own El- 
 sie ! Spare, oh ! save your daughters ! ” 
 
 “ Hold ! ” shouted the former speaker, in the 
 awful tones of parental agony, the sound reaching 
 even to the woods, and rolling back in solemn 
 echo “ ’Tis she ! God has restored me my chil- 
 
 dren ! Throw open the sally-port ; to the field 
 60ths, to the field ; pull not a trigger, lest ye kjl • 
 my lambs ! Drive off these dogs of France with 
 your steel.” 
 
 Duncan heard the grating of the rusty hinges, 
 and darting to the spot, directed by the sound, he 
 met a long line of dark-red warriors, passing 
 swiftly toward the glacis. He knew them for hie 
 own battalion of the royal Americans, and flying 
 to their head, soon swept every trace of his pur- 
 suers from before the works. 
 
 For an instant, Cora and Alice had stood 
 trembling and bewildered by this unexpected de- 
 sertion ; but, before either had leisure for speech, 
 or even thought, an officer of gigantic frame, 
 whose locks were bleached with years and ser- 
 vice, but whose air of military grandeur had been 
 rather softened than destroyed by time, rushed 
 out of the body of the mist, and folded them to 
 his bosom, while large scalding tears rolled down 
 his pale and wrinkled cheeks, and he exclaimed, 
 in the peculiar accent of Scotland : 
 
 “ For this I thank Thee, Lord ! Let danger l 
 come as it will, Thy servant is now prepared l ” 
 
 CHAPTER XY. 
 
 “ Then we go in, to know his embassy ; 
 
 Which I could, with ready guess, declare, 
 
 Before the Frenchman speak a word of it.” 
 
 Kjng Henry V. 
 
 A few succeeding days were passed amid tire I 
 privations, the uproar, and the dangers of the I 
 siege, which was vigorously pressed by a power l 
 against whose approaches Munro possessed no 
 competent means of resistance. It appeared as 
 if Webb, with his army, which lay slumbering on 
 the banks of the Hudson, had utterly forgotten j 
 the strait to which his countrymen were reduced. | 
 Montcalm had filled the woods of the portage I 
 with his savages, every yell and whoop from ; 
 whom rang through the British encampment, j 
 chilling the hearts of men who were already but 
 too much disposed to magnify the danger, - 
 
 Not . so, however, with the besieged. Ani- 
 mated by the words, and stimulated by the ex- 
 amples of their leaders, they had found their 
 courage, and maintained their ancient reputation, i 
 with a zeal that did justice to the stem character 
 of their commander. As if satisfied with the toil 
 of marching through the wilderness to encounter 
 his enemy, the French general, though of approved 
 skill, had neglected to seize the adjacent moun- 
 tains ; whence the besieged might have been ex 
 
THE SCOUT IN CUSTODY. 
 
 73 
 
 terminated with impunity, and which, in the more 
 modern warfare of the country, would not have 
 been neglected for a single hour. This sort of 
 contempt for eminences, or rather dread of the 
 labor of ascending them, might have been termed 
 the besetting weakness of the warfare of the pe- 
 riod. It originated in the simplicity of the Indian 
 contests, in which, from the nature of the com- 
 bats, and the density of the forests, fortresses 
 were rare, and artillery next to useless. The 
 carelessness engendered by these usages descend- 
 ed even to the war of the Revolution, and lost the 
 States the important fortress of Ticonderoga, 
 opening a way for the army of Burgoyne into 
 what was then the bosom of the country. We 
 look back at this ignorance, or infatuation, which- 
 ever it may be called, with wonder, knowing that 
 the neglect of an eminence, whose difficulties, like 
 those of Mount Defiance, have been so greatly ex- 
 aggerated, would, at the present time, prove fatal 
 to the reputation of the engineer who had planned 
 the works at their base, or to that of the general 
 whose lot it was to defend them. 
 
 The tourist, the valetudinarian, or the amateur 
 of the beauties of Nature, who, in the train of his 
 four-in-hand, now rolls through the scenes we 
 have attempted to describe, in quest of informa- 
 tion, health, or pleasure, or floats steadily toward 
 his object on those artificial waters which have 
 sprung up under the administration of a states- 
 man * who has dared to stake his political char- 
 acter on the hazardous issue, is not to suppose 
 that his ancestors traversed those hills, or strug- 
 gled with the same currents, with equal facility. 
 The transportation of a single heavy gun was of- 
 ten considered equal to a victory gained ; if, hap- 
 pily, the difficulties of the passage had not so far 
 separated it from its necessary concomitant, the 
 ammunition, as to render it no more than a use- 
 less tube of unwieldy iron. 
 
 The evils of this state of things pressed heav- 
 ily, on the fortunes of the resolute Scotsman who 
 now defended William Henry. Though this ad- 
 versary neglected the hills, he had planted his 
 batteries with judgment on the plain, and caused 
 them to be served with vigor and skill. Against 
 this assault, the besieged could only oppose the 
 imperfect and hasty preparations of a fortress in 
 the wilderness. 
 
 It was in the afternoon of the fifth day of the 
 siege, and the fourth of his own service in it, that 
 Major Heyward profited by a parley that had just 
 been beaten, by repairing to the ramparts of one 
 of the water-bastions, to breathe the cool air from 
 
 * Evidently the late De "Witt Clinton, who died Governor 
 nf New York, in, 1828. 
 
 the lake, and to take a survey of the progress of 
 the siege. He was alone, if the solitary sentinel 
 who paced the mound be excepted ; for the ar- 
 tillerists had hastened also to profit by the tem- 
 porary suspension of their arduous duties. The 
 evening was delightfully calm, and the light air 
 from the limpid water fresh and soothing. It 
 seemed as if, with the termination to the roar of 
 artillery, and the plunging of shot, Nature had 
 also seized the moment to assume her mildest and 
 most captivating form. The sun poured down his 
 parting glory on the scene, without the oppres- 
 sion of those fierce rays that belong to the cli- 
 mate and the season. The mountains looked 
 green, and fresh, and lovely ; tempered with the 
 milder light, or softened in shadow, as thin vapors 
 floated between them and the sun. The numerous 
 islands rested on the bosom of the Horican, some 
 low and sunken, as if embedded in the waters, 
 and others appearing to hover above the element, 
 in little hillocks of green velvet ; among which 
 the fishermen of the beleaguering army peacefully 
 rowed their skiffs, or floated at rest on the glassy 
 mirror, in quiet pursuit of their employment. 
 
 The scene was at once animated and still. All 
 that pertained to Nature was sweet, or simply 
 grand ; while those parts which depended on the 
 temper and movements of man were lively and 
 playful. 
 
 Two little spotless flags were abroad, the one 
 on a salient angle of the fort, and the other on 
 the advanced battery of the besiegers ; emblems, 
 of the truce which existed, not only to the acts, 
 but it would seem, also, to the enmity of the com- 
 batants. 
 
 Behind these, again, swung, heavily opening 
 and closing in silken folds, the rival standards of 
 England and France. 
 
 A hundred gay and thoughtless young French- 
 men were drawing a net to the pebbly beach, 
 within dangerous proximity to the sullen but si- 
 lent cannon of the fort, while the eastern moun- 
 tain was sending back the loud shouts and gay 
 merriment that attended their sport. Some were 
 rushing eagerly to enjoy the aquatic games of the 
 lake, and others were already toiling their way up 
 the neighboring hills, with the restless curiosity 
 of their nation. To all these sports and pursuits, 
 those of the enemy who watched the besieged, 
 and the besieged themselves, w r ere, however, mere- 
 ly the idle though sympathizing spectators. Here 
 and there a picket had, indeed, raised a song, oi 
 mingled in a dance, which had drawn the dusky 
 savages around them from their lairs in the for- 
 est. In short, every thing wore rather the ap- 
 pearance of a day of pleasure than of an hour 
 
74 . 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 stolen from the dangers and toil of a bloody and 
 vindictive warfare. 
 
 Duncan had stood in a musing attitude, con- 
 templating this scene a few minutes, when his 
 eyes were directed to the glacis in front of the 
 sally-port already mentioned by the sounds of ap- 
 proaching footsteps. He walked to an angle of 
 the bastion, and beheld the scout advancing, un- 
 der the custody of a French officer, to the body 
 of the fort. The countenance of Hawk-eye was 
 haggard and careworn, and his air dejected, as 
 though he felt the deepest degradation at having 
 fallen into the power of his enemies. He was 
 without his favorite weapon, and his arms were 
 even bound behind him with thongs made of the 
 skin of a deer. The arrival of flags, to cover the 
 messengers of summons, had occurred so often 
 of late, that, when Heyward first threw his care- 
 less glance on this group, he expected to see 
 another of the officers of the enemy, charged with 
 a similar office ; but the instant he recognized 
 the tall person, and still sturdy though downcast 
 features of his friend the woodsman, he started 
 with surprise, and turned to descend from the 
 bastion into the bosom of the work. 
 
 The sounds of other voices, however, caught 
 his attention, and for a moment caused him to 
 forget his purpose. At the inner angle of the 
 mound he met the sisters, walking along the para- 
 pet, in search, like himself, of air and relief from 
 confinement. They had not met since that pain- 
 ful moment when he deserted them on the plain, 
 only to assure their safety. He had parted from 
 them worn with care, and jaded with fatigue ; he 
 now saw them refreshed and blooming, though 
 timid and anxious. Under such an inducement, 
 it will cause no surprise that the young man lost 
 sight for a time of other objects in order to ad- 
 dress them. He was, however, anticipated by 
 the voice of the ingenuous and youthful Alice. 
 
 “ Ah ! thou truant ! thou recreant knight ! he 
 who abandons his damsels in the very lists ! ” 
 she cried ; “ here have we been days, nay, ages, 
 expecting you at our feet, imploring mercy and 
 forgetfulness of your craven backsliding, or, I 
 should rather say, back-running — for verily you 
 fled in a manner that no stricken deer, as our 
 worthy friend the scout would say, could equal ! ” 
 
 “ You know that Alice means our thanks and 
 our blessings,” added the graver and more 
 thoughtful Cora. “ In truth, we have a little won- 
 dered why you should so rigidly absent yourself 
 from a place where the gratitude of the daugh- 
 ters might receive the support of a parent’s 
 thanks.” 
 
 “Your father himself could tell you that, 
 
 though absent from your presence, I have not 
 been altogether forgetful of your safety,” re- 
 turned the young man ; “ the mastery of yonder 
 village of huts,” pointing to the neighboring en- 
 trenched camp, “ has been keenly disputed ; and 
 he who holds it is sure to be possessed of this 
 fort, and that which it contains. My days and 
 my nights have all been passed there since we 
 separated, because I thought that duty called me 
 thither. But,” he added with an air of chagrin, 
 which he endeavored, though unsuccessfully to 
 conceal, “ had I been aware that what I then be- 
 lieved a soldier's conduct could be so construed,' 
 shame would have been added to the list of rea- 
 sons.” 
 
 “ Heyward ! — Duncan ! ” exclaimed Alice, 
 bending forward to read his half-averted coun- 
 tenance, until a lock of her golden hair rested 
 on her flushed cheek, and nearly concealed the 
 tear that had started to her eye ; “ did I think 
 this idle tongue of mine had pained you, I would 
 silence it forever. Cora can say, if Cora would, 
 how justly we have prized your services, and how 
 deep — I had almost said, how fervent — is our 
 gratitude.” 
 
 “ And will Cora attest the truth of this ? ” 
 cried Duncan, suffering the cloud to be chased 
 from his countenance by a smile of open pleas- 
 ure. “ What says our graver sister ? Will she 
 find an excuse for the neglect of the knight in 
 the duty of a soldier ? ” 
 
 Cora made no immediate answer, but turned 
 her face toward the water, as if looking on the 
 sheet of the Horican. When she did bend her 
 dark eyes on the young man, they were yet 
 filled with an expression of anguish that at once 
 drove every thought but that of kind solicitude 
 from his mind. 
 
 “You are not well, dearest Miss Munro ! ” he 
 exclaimed ; “ we have trifled while you are in 
 suffering.” 
 
 “ ’Tis nothing,” she answered, refusing his 
 offered support with feminine reserve. “ That I 
 cannot see the sunny side of the picture of life, 
 like this artless but ardent enthusiast,” she add- 
 ed, laying her hand lightly, but affectionately, 
 on the arm of her sister, “ is the penalty of ex- 
 perience, and, perhaps, the misfortune of my 
 nature. See,” she continued, as if determined 
 to shake off infirmity, in a sense of duty ; “ look 
 around you, Major Heyward, and tell me what a 
 prospect is this for the daughter of a soldier 
 whose greatest happiness is his honor and his 
 military renown.” 
 
 “Neither ought nor shall be tarnished by cir- 
 cumstances over which he has had no control," 
 
THE FRENCH GENERAL’S CIVILITY. 
 
 75 
 
 Duncan warmly replied. “ But your words recall 
 me to my own duty. I go now to your gallant 
 father, to hear his determination in matters of 
 he last moment to the defence. God bless you 
 in every fortune, noble — Cora — I may, and must 
 call you.” She frankly gave him her hand, though 
 her lip quivered, and her cheeks gradually be- 
 came of an ashy paleness. “In every fortune, 
 I know you will be an ornament and honor to 
 your sex.— Alice, adieu his tone changed from 
 admiration to tenderness — “adieu, Alice; we 
 shall soon meet again; as conquerors, I trust, 
 and amid rejoicings ! ” 
 
 Without waiting for an answer from either, 
 the young man threw himself down the grassy 
 steps of the bastion, and moving rapidly across 
 the parade, he was quickly in the presence of 
 their father. Munro was pacing his narrow 
 apartment with a disturbed air and gigantic 
 strides as Duncan entered. 
 
 “You have anticipated my wishes, Major 
 Heyward,” he said ; “ I was about to request this 
 favor. 
 
 “ I am sorry to see, sir, that the messenger I 
 so warmly recommended, has returned in custody 
 of the French ! I hope there is no reason to dis- 
 trust his fidelity ? ” 
 
 “ The fidelity of ‘ The Long Rifle ’ is well 
 known to me,” returned Munro, “ and is above 
 suspicion ; though his usual good fortune seems, 
 at last, to have failed. Montcalm has got him, 
 and with the accursed politeness of his nation, he 
 has sent him in with a doleful tale, of ‘ knowing 
 how I valued the fellow, he could not think of re- 
 taining him.’ A Jesuitical way, that, Major Dun- 
 can Heyward, of telling a man of his misfor- 
 tunes ! ” 
 
 “But the general and his succor? — ” 
 
 “ Did ye look to the south as ye entered, and 
 could ye not see them ? ” said the old soldier, 
 laughing bitterly. “Hoot! hoot! you’re an im- 
 patient boy, sir, and cannot give the gentlemen 
 leisure for their march ! ” 
 
 “ They are coming, then ? The scout has 
 said as much ? ” 
 
 “ When ? and by what path ? for the dunce 
 has omitted to tell me this. There is a letter, it 
 would seem, too ; and that is the only agreeable 
 part of the matter. For the customary attentions 
 of your Marquis of Montcalm — I warrant me, 
 Duncan, that he of Lothian would buy a dozen 
 such marquisates — but, if the news of the letter 
 were bad, the gentility of this French monsieur 
 would certainly compel him to let us know it.” 
 
 “ He keeps the letter, then, while he releases 
 the messenger ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, that does he, and all for the sake of 
 what you call your ‘ bonhommie.’ I would ven- 
 ture, if the truth was known, the fellow’s grand- 
 father taught the noble science of dancing.” 
 
 “ But what says the scout ? he has eyes ana 
 ears, and a tongue : what verbal report does he 
 make ? ” 
 
 “ Oh ! sir, he is not wanting in natural or- 
 gans, and he is free to tell all that he has seen and 
 heard. The whole amount is this : there is a fort 
 of his majesty’s on the banks of the Hudson, 
 called Edward, in honor of his gracious highness 
 of York, you’ll know ; and it is well filled with 
 armed men, as such a work should be.” 
 
 “ But was there no movement, no signs of any 
 intention to advance to our relief? ” 
 
 “There were the morning and evening pa- 
 rades ; and when one of the provincial loons— 
 you’ll know, Duncan, you’re half a Scotsman 
 yourself — when one of them dropped his powder 
 over his parritch, if it touched the coals, it just 
 burnt ! ” Then, suddenly changing his bitter, 
 ironical manner, to one more grave and thought- 
 ful, he continued : “ And yet there might, and 
 must be, something in that letter which it would 
 be well to know ! ” 
 
 “ Our decision should be speedy,” said Dun- 
 can, gladly availing himself of this change of hu- 
 mor, to press the more important objects of their 
 interview ; “ I cannot conceal from you, sir, that 
 the camp will not be much longer tenable ; and 
 I am sorry to add that things appear no better 
 in the fort — more than half the guns are burst- 
 ed.” 
 
 “ And how should it be otherwise ? Some were 
 fished from the bottom of the lake ; some have 
 been rusting in the woods since the discovery of 
 the country ; and some were never guns at all — 
 mere privateersmen’s playthings ! Do you think, 
 sir, you can have Woolwich Warren in the midst 
 of a wilderness, three thousand mile3 from Great 
 Britain ? ” 
 
 “ The walls are crumbling about our ears, and 
 provisions begin to fail us,” continued Heyward, 
 without regarding this new burst of indignation ; 
 “ even the men show signs of discontent and 
 alarm.” 
 
 “ Major Heyward,” said Munro, turning to 
 his youthful associate with the dignity of his 
 years and superior rank, “ I should have served 
 his majesty for half a century, and earned these 
 gray hairs, in vain, were I ignorant of all you say 
 and of the pressing nature of our circumstances , 
 still, there is every thing due to the honor of the 
 king’s arms and something to ourselves. While 
 there is hope of succor, this fortress will I defend. 
 
76 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 though it be to be done with pebbles gathered on 
 the lake-shore. It is a sight of the letter, there- 
 fore, that we want, that we may know the inten- 
 tions of the man the Earl of Loudon has left 
 among us as his substitute ? ” 
 
 “ And can I be of service m the matter ? ” 
 
 “ Sir, you can ; the Marquis of Montcalm has, 
 m addition to his other civilities, invited me to a 
 personal interview between the works and his 
 own camp ; in order, as he says, to impart some 
 additional information. Now, I think it would 
 not be wise to show any undue solicitude to meet 
 him, and I would employ you, an officer of rank, 
 as my substitute ; for it would but ill comport 
 with the honor of Scotland to let it be said one 
 of her gentlemen was outdone in civility by a na- 
 tive of any other country on earth.” 
 
 Without assuming the supererogatory task of 
 entering into a discussion of the comparative 
 merits of national courtesy, Duncan cheerfully as- 
 sented to supply the place of the veteran in the 
 approaching interview. A long and confidential 
 communication now succeeded, during which the 
 young man received some additional insight into 
 his duty, from the experience and native acute- 
 ness of his commander, and then the former took 
 his leave. 
 
 As Duncan could only act as the representa- 
 tive of the commandant of the fort, the ceremo- 
 nies which should have accompanied a meeting 
 between the heads of the adverse forces were of 
 course dispensed with. The truce still existed, 
 and with a roll and beat of the drum, and covered 
 by a little white flag, Duncan left the sally-port, 
 within ten minutes after his instructions were 
 ended. He was received by the French officer in 
 advance with the usual formalities, and immedi- 
 ately accompanied to a distant marquee of the re- 
 nowned soldier who led the forces of France. 
 
 The general of the enemy received the youth- 
 ful messenger, surrounded by his pi’incipal offi- 
 cers, and by a swarthy band of the native chiefs, 
 who had followed him to the field, with the war- 
 riors of their several tribes. Heyward paused 
 short, when, in glancing his eyes rapidly over the 
 dark group of the latter, he beheld the malignant 
 countenance of Magua, regarding him with the 
 calm but sullen attention which marked the ex- 
 pression of that subtle savage. A slight excla- 
 mation of surprise even burst from the lips of the 
 young man; but, instantly recollecting his er- 
 rand, and the presence in which he stood, he sup- 
 pressed every appearance of emotion, and turned 
 to the hostile leader, who had already advanced a 
 Itep to receive him. 
 
 The Marquis of Montcalm was, at the period 
 
 of which we write, in the flower of his age, af.d, 
 it may be added, in the zenith of his fortunes. 
 But, even in that enviable situation, he was affa- 
 ble, and distinguished as much for his attention 
 to the forms of courtesy, as for that chivalrous 
 courage which, only two short years afterward, 
 induced him to throw away his life on the plains 
 of Abraham. Duncan, in turning his eyes from 
 the malign expression of Magua, suffered them to 
 rest with pleasure on the smiling and polished 
 features, and the noble military air, of the French 
 general. 
 
 “Monsieur,” said the latter, “j’ai beaucoup 
 de plaisir h — bah ! — nit est cet interprSte ? ” 
 
 “ Je crois, monsieur, qu’il ne sera pas neces- 
 saire,” Heyward modestly replied; “je parle un 
 peu Fran9ais.” 
 
 “ Ah ! j’en suis bien aise,” said Montcalm, tak- 
 ing Duncan familiarly by the arm, and leading 
 him deep into the marquee, a little out of ear 
 shot; “je deteste ces fripons-l& ; on ne sait ja- 
 mais sur quel pie on est avec eux. Eh, bien ! 
 monsieur,” he continued, still speaking in French; 
 “ though I should have been proud of receiving 
 your commandant, I am very happy that he has 
 seen proper to employ an officer so distinguished, 
 and who, I am sure, is so amiable, as yourself.” 
 
 Duncan bowed low, pleased with the compli- 
 ment, in spite of a most heroic determination to 
 suffer no artifice to allure him into forgetfulness 
 of the interest of his prince ; and Montcalm, af- 
 ter a pause of a moment, as if to collect hia 
 thoughts, proceeded : 
 
 “ Your commandant is a brave man, and well 
 qualified to repel my assault. Mais, monsieur, is 
 it not time to begin to take more counsel of hu- 
 manity, and less of your courage ? The one as 
 strongly characterizes the hero as the other.” 
 
 “We consider the qualities as inseparable,” 
 returned Duncan, smiling ; “ but while we find in 
 the vigor of your excellency every motive to stim- 
 ulate the one, we can, as yet, see no particular 
 call for the exercise of the other.” 
 
 Montcalm, in his turn, slightly bowed, but it 
 was with the air of a man too practised to remem- 
 ber the language of flattery. After musing a mo- 
 ment, he added : 
 
 “ It is possible my glasses have deceived me, 
 and that your works resist our cannon better than 
 I had supposed. You know our force ? ” 
 
 “ Our accounts vary,” said Duncan, carelessly ; 
 “ the highest, however, has not exceeded twenty 
 thousand men.” 
 
 The Frenchman bit his lip, and fastened hi* 
 eyes keenly on the other as if to read his thoughts ; 
 then, with a readiness peculiar to himself, he coiv 
 
HEYWARD’S INTERVIEW WITH MONTCALM. 
 
 7 ? 
 
 tinued, as if assenting to the truth of the enumer- 
 ation which quite doubled his army : 
 
 “ It is a poor compliment to the vigilance of 
 us soldiers, monsieur, that, do what we will, we 
 never can conceal our numbers. If it were to be 
 done at all, one would believe it might succeed in 
 these woods. Though you think it too soon to 
 listen to the calls of humanity,” he added, smiling 
 archly, “ I may be permitted to believe that gal- 
 lantry is not forgotten by one so young as your- 
 self. The daughters of the commandant, I learn, 
 have passed into the fort since it was invested ? ” 
 “ It is true, monsieur ; but, so far from weak- 
 ening our efforts, they set us an example of cour- 
 age in their own fortitude. Were nothing but 
 resolution necessary to repel so accomplished a 
 soldier as M. de Montcalm, I would gladly trust 
 the defence of William Henry to the elder of 
 those ladies.” 
 
 “ We have a wise ordinance in our Salique 
 laws, which says, ‘ the crown of France shall never 
 degrade the lance to the distaff,’ ” said Montcalm, 
 dryly, and with a little hauteur ; but instantly 
 adding, with his former frank and easy air, “ as 
 all the nobler qualities are hereditary, I can easily 
 credit you ; though, as I said before, courage has 
 its limits, and humanity must not be forgotten. 
 I trust, monsieur, you come authorized to treat 
 for the surrender of the place ? ” 
 
 “ Has your excellency found our defence so 
 feeble as to believe the measure necessary ? ” 
 
 “ I should be sorry to have the defence pro- 
 tracted in such a manner as to irritate my red 
 friends there,” continued Montcalm, glancing his 
 eyes at the group of grave and attentive Indians, 
 without attending to the other’s question; “I find 
 it difficult, even now, to limit them to the usages 
 of war.” 
 
 Heyward was silent; for a painful recollec- 
 tion of the dangers he had so recently escaped 
 came over his mind, and recalled the images of 
 those defenceless beings who had shared in all 
 his sufferings. 
 
 “ Ces messieurs-lk,” said Montcalm, following 
 up the advantage which he conceived he had 
 gained, “ are most formidable when baffled; and 
 it is unnecessary to tell you with what difficulty 
 they are restrained in their anger. Eh bien, mon- 
 sieur ! shall we speak of the terms ? ” 
 
 “ I fear your excellency has been deceived as 
 to the strength of William Henry, and the re- 
 sources of the garrison.” 
 
 “ I have not sat down before Quebec, but an 
 earthen work, that is defended by twenty-three 
 Bundred gallant men,” was the laconic reply. 
 
 4 ‘ Our mounds are earthen, certainly — nor are 
 
 they seated on the rocks of Cape Diamond ; but 
 they stand on that shore which proved so destruc- 
 tive to Dieskau and his army. There is also a 
 powerful force within a few hours’ march of us, 
 which we account upon as part of our means.” 
 
 “ Some six or eight thousand men,” returned 
 Montcalm, with much apparent indifference, 
 “ whom their leader wisely judges to be safer in 
 their works than in the field.” 
 
 It was now Heyward’s turn to bite his lip with 
 vexation, as the other so coolly alluded to a force 
 which the young man knew to be overrated. 
 Both mused a little while in silence, when Mont 
 calm renewed the conversation, in a way that 
 showed he believed the visit of his guest was 
 solely to propose terms of capitulation. On the 
 other hand, Heyward began to throw sundry in- 
 ducements in the way of the Fr6nch general, to 
 betray the discoveries he had made through the 
 intercepted letter. The artifice of neither, how- 
 ever, succeeded ; and after a protracted and fruit- 
 less interview, Duncan took his leave, favorably 
 impressed with an opinion of the courtesy and 
 talents of the enemy’s captain, but as ignorant of 
 what he came to learn as when he arrived. 
 Montcalm followed him as far as the entrance of 
 the marquee, renewing his invitations to the com- 
 mandant of the fort to give him an immediate 
 meeting in the open ground, between the two 
 armies. 
 
 There they separated, and Duncan returned to 
 the advanced post of the French, accompanied as 
 before ; whence he instantly proceeded to the fort, 
 and to the quarters of his own commander. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 “ Edg . — Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.” 
 
 Leak. 
 
 Major Heyward found Munro attended only 
 by his daughters. Alice sat upon his knee, part- 
 ing the gray hairs on the forehead of the old man 
 with her delicate fingers ; and, whenever he af- 
 fected to frown on her trifling, appeasing his as- 
 sumed anger by pressing her ruby lips fondly on 
 his wrinkled brow. Cora was seated nigh them^ 
 a calm and amused looker-on ; regarding the way. 
 ward movements of her more youthful sister with 
 that species of maternal fondness which charac- 
 terized her love for Alice. Not only the dangers 
 through which they had passed, but those which 
 still impended above them, appeared to be mo- 
 mentarily forgotten in the soothing indulgence of 
 such a family meeting. It seemed as if they had 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 78 
 
 profited by the short truce to devote an instant to 
 the purest and best affections : the daughters for- 
 getting their fears, and the veteran his cares, in 
 the security of the moment. Of this scene Dun- 
 can, who in his eagerness to report his arrival had 
 entered unannounced, stood many moments an 
 unobserved and a delighted spectator. But the 
 quick and dancing eyes of Alice soon caught a 
 glimpse of his figure reflected from a glass, and 
 she sprang blushing from her father’s knee ex- 
 claiming, aloud : 
 
 “ Major Heyward ! ” 
 
 “ What of the lad ? ” demanded her father ; 
 “ I have sent him to crack a little with the French- 
 man. — Ha ! sir, you are young, and you’re nim- 
 ble! — Away with you, ye baggage; as if there 
 were not troubles enough for a soldier without 
 having his camp filled with such prattling hussies 
 as yourself ! ” 
 
 Alice laughingly followed her sister, who instant- 
 ly led the way from an apartment where she per- 
 ceived their presence was no longer desirable. 
 Munro, instead of demanding the result of the young 
 man’s mission, paced the room for a few moments 
 with his hands behind his back, and his head in- 
 clined toward the floor, like a man lost in thought. 
 At length he raised his eyes, glistening with a 
 father’s fondness, and exclaimed : 
 
 “ They are a pair of excellent girls, Heyward, 
 and such as any one may boast of.” 
 
 “ You are not now to learn my opinion of 
 your daughters, Colonel Munro.” 
 
 “ True, lad, true,” interrupted the impatient 
 old man ; “ you were about opening your mind 
 more fully on that matter the day you got in ; but 
 I did not think it becoming in an old soldier to be 
 talking of nuptial blessings and wedding-jokes 
 when the enemies of his king were likely to be 
 unbidden guests at the feast ! But I was wrong, 
 Duncan, boy, I was wrong there ; and I am now 
 ready to hear what you have to say.” 
 
 “ Notwithstanding the pleasure your assurance 
 gives me, d :ar sir, I have, just now, a message 
 from Montcalm — ” 
 
 “ Let the Frenchman and all his host go to 
 the devil, sir!” exclaimed the hasty veteran. 
 “ He is not yet master of William Henry, nor 
 shall he ever be, provided Webb proves himself 
 the man he should. No, sir ! thank Heaven, we 
 are not yet in such a strait that it can be said 
 Munro is too much pressed to discharge the little 
 domestic duties of his own family. Your mother 
 was the only child of my bosom friend, Duncan ; 
 and I’ll just give you a hearing, though all the 
 knights of St. Louis were in a body at the sally- 
 port, with the French saint at their head, craving 
 
 to speak a word under favor. A pretty degree w 
 knighthood, sir, is that which can be bought with 
 sugar-hogsheads ! and then your two-penny mar- 
 quisates! The thistle is the order for dignity 
 and antiquity ; the veritable ‘ nemo me impune 
 lacessit’ of chivalry! Ye had ancestors in that 
 degree, Duncan, and they were an ornament to 
 the nobles of Scotland.” 
 
 Heyward, who perceived that his superior 
 took a malicious pleasure in exhibiting his con- 
 tempt for the message of the French general, was 
 fain to humor a spleen that he knew would be 
 short-lived ; he, therefore, replied with as much 
 indifference as he could assume on such a sub- 
 ject: 
 
 “ My request, as you know, sir, went so far 
 as to presume to the honor of being your son.” 
 
 “ Ay, boy, you found words to make yourself 
 very plainly comprehended. But, let me ask ye, 
 sir, have you been as intelligible to the girl ? ” 
 
 “ On my honor, no ! ” exclaimed Duncan, 
 warmly ; “ there would have been an abuse of a 
 confided trust had I taken advantage of my situ- 
 ation for such a purpose.” 
 
 “ Your notions are those of a gentleman, Ma- 
 jor Heyward, and well enough in their place. 
 But Cora Munro is a maiden too discreet, and of 
 a mind too elevated and improved, to need the 
 guardianship even of a father.” 
 
 “ Cora ! ” 
 
 “ Ay — Cora ! we are talking of your preten- 
 sions to Miss Munro, are we not, sir ? ” 
 
 “I — I — I was not conscious of having men- 
 tioned her name,” said Duncan, stammering. 
 
 “ And to marry whom, then, did you wish my 
 consent, Major Heyward ? ” demanded the old 
 soldier, erecting himself in the dignity of offended 
 feeling. 
 
 “ You have another, and not less lovely child.” 
 
 “ Alice ! ” exclaimed the father, in an aston- 
 ishment equal to that with which Duncan had 
 just repeated the name of her sister. 
 
 “ Such was the direction of my wishes, sir.” 
 
 The young man awaited in silence the result 
 of the extraordinary effect produced by a com- 
 munication which, as it now appeared, was so 
 unexpected. For several minutes Munro paced 
 the chamber with long and rapid strides, his 
 rigid features working convulsively, and every 
 faculty seemingly absorbed in the musings of his 
 own mind. At length he paused directly in front 
 of Heyward, and, riveting his eyes upon those 
 of the other, he said, with a lip that quivered 
 violently : 
 
 “ Duncan Heyward, I have loved you for the 
 sake of him whose blood is in your veins ; I have 
 
COLONEL MUNRO’S HISTORY. 
 
 79 
 
 loved you for your own good qualities ; and I 
 have loved you, because I thought you would 
 contribute to the happiness of my child. But all 
 this love would turn to hatred, were I assured 
 that what I so much apprehend is true.” 
 
 “ God forbid that any act or thought of mine 
 should lead to such a change ! ” exclaimed the 
 young man, whose eye never quailed under the 
 penetrating look it encountered. Without ad- 
 verting to the impossibility of the other’s com- 
 prehending those feelings which were hid in his 
 own bosom, Munro suffered himself to be ap- 
 peased by the unaltered countenance he met, 
 and, with a voice sensibly softened, he contin- 
 ued : 
 
 “ You would be my son, Duncan, and you’re 
 ignorant of the history of the man you wish to 
 call your father. Sit ye down, young man, and I 
 will open to you the wounds of a seared heart in 
 as few words as may be suitable.” 
 
 By this time, the message of Montcalm was as 
 much forgotten by him who bore it as by the 
 man for whose ears it was intended. Each drew 
 a chair, and while the veteran communed a few 
 moments with his own thoughts, apparently in 
 sadness, the youth suppressed his impatience in 
 a look and attitude of respectful attention. At 
 length the former spoke : 
 
 “You’ll know, already, Major Heyward, that 
 my family was both ancient and honorable,” 
 commenced the Scotsman ; “ though it might not 
 altogether be endowed with that amount of wealth 
 that should correspond with its degree. It was, 
 maybe, such a one as yourself when I plighted 
 my faith to Alice Graham : the only child of a 
 neighboring laird of some estate. But the con- 
 nection was disagreeable to her father, on more 
 accounts than my poverty. I did therefore what 
 an honest man should — restored the maiden her 
 troth, and departed the country in the service of 
 my king. I had seen many regions, and had shed 
 much blood in different lands, before duty called 
 me to the islands of the West Indies. There it 
 was my lot to form a connection with one who in 
 time became my wife, and the mother of Cora. 
 She was the daughter of a gentlemen of those 
 isles, by a lady whose misfortune it was, if you 
 will,” said the old man, proudly, “ to be descend- 
 ed, remotely, from that unfortunate class who are 
 so basely enslaved to administer to the wants of 
 a luxurious people. Ay, sir, that is a curse en- 
 tailed on Scotland by her unnatural union with a 
 foreign and trading people. But could I find a 
 man among them who would dare to reflect on 
 my child, he should feel the weight of a father’s 
 anger ! Ha ! Major Heyward, you are yourself 
 
 born at the south, where these unfortunate be- 
 ings are considered of a race inferior to your 
 own.” 
 
 “ ’Tis most unfortunately true, sir,” said Dun- 
 can, unable any longer to prevent his eyes from 
 sinking to the floor in embarrassment. 
 
 “ And you cast it on my child as a reproach i 
 You scorn to mingle the blood of the Hey 
 wards with one so degraded — lovely and virtuous 
 though she be ? ” fiercely demanded the jealous 
 parent. 
 
 “ Heaven protect me from a prejudice so un- 
 worthy of my reason ! ” returned Duncan, at the 
 same time conscious of such a feeling, and that 
 as deeply rooted as if it had been ingrafted in his 
 nature. “ The sweetness, the beauty, the witch- 
 ery of your younger daughter, Colonel Munro, 
 might explain my motives Without imputing to 
 me this injustice.” 
 
 “Ye are right, sir,” returned the old man, 
 again changing his tones to those of gentleness, 
 or rather softness ; “ the girl is the image of 
 what her mother was at her years, and before she 
 had become acquainted with grief. When death 
 deprived me of my wife I returned to Scotland, 
 enriched by the marriage ; and, would you think 
 it, Duncan ? the suffering angel had remained in 
 the heartless state of celibacy twenty long years, 
 and that for the sake of a man who could forget 
 her ! She did more, sir ; she overlooked my 
 want of faith, and, all difficulties being now re- 
 moved, she took me for her husband.” 
 
 “ And became the mother of Alice ? ” ex- 
 claimed Duncan, with an eagerness that might 
 have proved dangerous at a moment when the 
 thoughts of Munro were less occupied than at 
 present. 
 
 “She did, indeed,” said the old man, “and 
 dearly did she pay for the blessing she bestowed. 
 But she is a saint in heaven, sir ; and it ill be- 
 comes one whose foot rests on the grave to mourn 
 a lot so blessed. I had her but a single year, 
 though ; a short term of happiness for one who 
 had seen her youth fade in hopeless pining.” 
 
 There was something so commanding in the 
 distress of the old man, that Heyward did not 
 dare to venture a syllable of consolation. Munro 
 sat utterly unconscious of the other’s presence, 
 his features exposed and working with the an- 
 guish of his regrets, while heavy tears fell from 
 his eyes, and rolled unheeded from his cheeks to 
 the floor. At length he moved, as if suddenly 
 recovering his recollection ; when he arose, and 
 taking a single turn across the room, he ap- 
 proached his companion with an air of military 
 grandeur, and demanded : 
 
80 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “Have you not, Major Heyward, some com- 
 munication that I should hear from the Marquis 
 de Montcalm ? ” 
 
 Duncan started, in his turn, and immediately 
 commenced, in an embarrassed voice, the half- 
 forgotten message. It is unnecessary to dwell 
 upon the evasive though polite manner with 
 which the French general had eluded every at- 
 tempt of Heyward to worm from him the purport 
 of the communication he had proposed making, 
 or on the decided though still polished message 
 by which he now gave his enemy to understand 
 that, unless he chose to receive it in person, he 
 should not receive it at all. As Munro listened 
 to the detail of Duncan, the excited feelings of 
 the father gradually gave way before the obliga- 
 tions of his station, and when the other was done, 
 he saw before him nothing but the veteran, swell- 
 ing with the wounded feelings of a soldier. 
 
 “ You have said enough, Major Heyward ! ” ex- 
 claimed the angry old man ; “ enough to make a 
 volume of commentary on French civility. Here 
 has this gentleman invited me to a conference, 
 and when I , send him a capable substitute, for 
 ye’re all that, Duncan, though your years are but 
 few, he answers me. with a riddle.” 
 
 “He may have thought less favorably of the 
 substitute, my dear sir : and you will remember 
 that the invitation, which he now repeats, was to 
 the commandant of the works, and not to his sec- 
 ond.” 
 
 “ Well, sir, is not a substitute clothed with all 
 the power and dignity of him who grants the 
 commission ? He wishes to confer with Munro ! 
 Faith, sir, I have much inclination to indulge the 
 man, if it should only be to let him behold the 
 firm countenance we maintain in spite of his num- 
 bers and his summons. There might be no bad 
 policy in such a stroke, young man.” 
 
 Duncan, who believed it of the last impor- 
 tance that they should speedily come at the con- 
 tents of the letter borne by the scout, gladly en- 
 30uraged this idea. 
 
 “ Without doubt, he could gather no confi- 
 dence. by witnessing our indifference,” he said. 
 
 “You never said truer words. I could wish, 
 sir, that he would visit the works in open day, 
 and in the form of a storming-party : that is the 
 least failing method of proving the countenance 
 of an enemy, and would be far preferable to the 
 battering system he has chosen. The beauty and 
 manliness of warfare has been much deformed, 
 Major Heyward, by the arts of your Monsieur 
 Yauban. Our ancestors were far above such 
 scientific cowardice ! ” 
 
 “ It may be very true, sir ; but we are now 
 
 obliged to repel art by art. What is your pleas, 
 ure in the matter of the interview ? ” 
 
 “ I will meet the Frenchman, and that without 
 fear or delay; promptly, sir, as becomes a ser- 
 vant of my royal master. Go, Major Heyward, 
 and give them a flourish of the music ; and send 
 out a messenger to let them know who is coming. 
 We will follow with a small guard, for such re- 
 spect is due to one who holds the honor of his 
 king in keeping ; and hark’ee, Duncan,” he added, 
 in a half whisper, though they were alone, “ it 
 may be prudent to have some aid at hand, in case 
 there should be treachery at the bottom of it 
 all.” 
 
 The young man availed himself of this order 
 to quit the apartment ; and, as the day was fast 
 coming to a close, he hastened, without delay, to 
 make the necessary arrangements. A very few 
 minutes only were necessary to parade a few files, 
 and to dispatch an orderly with a flag to an- 
 nounce the approach of the commandant of the 
 fort. When Duncan had done both these he led 
 the guard to the sally-port, near which he found 
 his superior ready, waiting his appearance. As 
 soon as the usual ceremonials of a military de- 
 parture were observed, the veteran and his more 
 youthful companion left the fortress, attended by 
 the escort. 
 
 They had proceeded only a hundred yards 
 from the works, when the little array which at- 
 tended the French general to the conference, was 
 seen issuing from the hollow way which: formed 
 the bed of a brook that ran between the batteries 
 of the besiegers and the fort. From the moment 
 that Munro left his own works to appear in front 
 of his enemies, his air had been grand, and his 
 step and countenance highly military. The in- 
 stant he caught a glimpse of the white plume that 
 waved in the hat of Montcalm, his eye lighted, 
 and age no longer appeared to possess any in- 
 fluence over his vast and still muscular person. 
 
 “ Speak to the bdys to be watchful, sir,” he 
 said, in an under-tone td Duncan ; “ and to look 
 well to their flints and steel, for one is never safe 
 with a servant of these Louis ; at the same time 
 we will show them the front of men in deep se- 
 curity. Ye’ll understand me, Major Heyward ? ” 
 
 He was interrupted by the clamor of a drum 
 from the approaching Frenchmen, which was im- 
 mediately answered, when each .party pushed an 
 orderly in advance bearing a white flag, and the 
 wary Scotsman halted with his guard close at his 
 back. As soon as this slight salutation had passed* 
 Montcalm moved toward .them with a quick but 
 graceful step, baring his head to the veteran, and 
 dropping his spotless plume nearly to the earth in 
 
GENERAL WEBB’S LETTER. 
 
 81 
 
 eourtesy. If tlie air of Munro was more com- 
 manding and manly, it wanted both the ease and 
 insinuating polish of that of the Frenchman 
 Neither spoke for a few moments, each regard- 
 ing the other with curious and interested eyes. 
 Then, as became his superior rank and the nature 
 of the interview, Montcalm broke the silence. 
 After uttering the usual words of greetiiig, he 
 turned to Duncan, and continued, with a smile of 
 recognition, speaking always in French : 
 
 “ I am rejoiced, monsieur, that you have given 
 ns the pleasure of your company on this occasion. 
 There will be no necessity to employ an ordinary 
 interpreter ; for, in your hands, I feel the same 
 security as if I spoke your language myself.” 
 
 Duncan acknowledged the compliment, when 
 Montcalm, turning to his guard, which, in imita- 
 tion of that of their enemies, pressed close upon 
 him, continued : 
 
 “ En arriere, mes enfans — il fait chaud ; re- 
 tirez-vous un peu.” 
 
 Before Major Heyward would imitate this 
 proof of confidence, he glanced his eyes around 
 the plain, and beheld with uneasiness the numer- 
 ous dusky groups of savages, who looked out 
 from the margin of the surrounding woods, curi- 
 ous spectators of the interview. 
 
 “ Monsieur de Montcalm will readily acknowl- 
 edge the difference in our situation,” he said, with 
 some embarrassment, pointing at the same time 
 toward those dangerous foes who were to be seen 
 in almost every direction. “Were we to dismiss 
 our guard, we should stand here at the mercy of 
 our enemies.” 
 
 “Monsieur, you have the plighted faith of 
 * un gentilhomme Fran5ais ’ for your safety,” re- 
 turned Montcalm, laying his hand impressively on 
 his heart;. “ it should suffice.” 
 
 “ It shall. — Fall back,” Duncan added to the 
 officer who led the escort ; “ fall back, sir, be- 
 yond hearing, and wait for orders.” 
 
 Munro witnessed this movement with manifest 
 uneasiness ; nor did he fail to demand an instant 
 explanation. 
 
 “Is it not our interest, sir, to betray no dis- 
 trust ? ” retorted Duncan. “ Monsieur de Mont- 
 calm pledges his word for our safety, and I have 
 ordered the men to withdraw a little in order to 
 prove how much we depend on his assurance.” 
 
 “ It may be all right, sir, but I have no over- 
 weening reliance on the faith of these marquesses, 
 or marquis, as they call themselves. Their 
 patents of nobility are too common to be certain 
 that they bear the seal of true honor.” 
 
 “ You forget, dear sir, that we confer with an 
 officer, distinguished alike in Europe and Amer- 
 6 
 
 ica, for his deeds. From a soldier of his reputa- 
 tion we can have nothing to apprehend.” 
 
 The old man made a gesture of resignation, 
 though his rigid features still betrayed his obsti- 
 nate adherence to a distrust, which he derived 
 from a sort of hereditary contempt of his enemy, 
 rather than from any present signs which might 
 warrant so uncharitable a feeling. Montcalm 
 waited patiently until this little dialogue in demi- 
 voice was ended, when he drew nigher, and opened 
 the subject of their conference. 
 
 “ I have solicited this interview from your 
 superior, monsieur,” he said, “because I believe 
 he will allow himself to be persuaded that he has 
 already done every thing that is necessary for the 
 honor of his prince, and will now listen to the 
 admonitions of humanity. I will forever bear 
 testimony that his resistance has been gallant, 
 and was continued as long as there was hope.” 
 
 When this opening was translated to Munro, 
 he answered with dignity, but with sufficient 
 courtesy : 
 
 “ However I may prize such testimony from 
 Monsieur Montcalm, it will be more valuable 
 when it shall be better merited.” 
 
 The French general smiled, as Duncan gave 
 him the purport of this reply, and observed : 
 
 “ What is now so freely accorded to approved 
 courage may be refused to useless obstinacy. 
 Monsieur would wish to see my camp, and wit- 
 ness, for himself, our numbers, and the impossi- 
 bility of resisting them, with success? ” 
 
 “I know that the King of France is well 
 served,” returned the unmoved Scotsman, as soon 
 as Duncan ended his translation ; “ but my royal 
 master has as many and as faithful troops.” 
 
 “Though not at hand, fortunately for us,” 
 said Montcalm, without waiting, in his ardor, for 
 the interpreter. “ There is a destiny in war, to 
 which a brave man knows how to submit, with 
 the same courage that he faces his foes.” 
 
 “ Had I been conscious that Monsieur Mont- 
 calm was master of the English, I should have 
 spared myself the trouble of so awkward a trans- 
 lation,” said the vexed Duncan, dryly ; remember- 
 ing instantly his recent by-play with MunrO. 
 
 “ Your pardon, monsieur,” rejoined the French- 
 man, suffering a slight color to appear on hia 
 dark cheek. “ There is avast difference between 
 understanding and speaking a foreign toDgue; 
 you will, therefore, please to assist me still.” 
 Then, after a short patlse, he added : “ These hills 
 afford us every opportunity of reconnoitring your 
 works, messieurs, and I am possibly as well ac- 
 quainted with your weak condition as you cao 
 be yourselves.” 
 
82 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “Ask the French general if his glasses can 
 reach to the Hudson,” said Munro, proudly ; “ and 
 if he knows when and where to expect the army 
 of Webb.” 
 
 “ Let General Webb be his own interpreter,” 
 returned the politic Montcalm, suddenly extending 
 an open letter toward Munro, as he spoke ; “ you 
 will there learn, monsieur, that his movements 
 axe not likely to prove embarrassing to my army.” 
 
 The veteran seized the offered paper, without 
 waiting for Duncan to translate the speech, and 
 with an eagerness that betrayed how important 
 he deemed its contents. As his eye passed 
 hastily over the words, his countenance changed 
 from its look of military pride to one of deep 
 chagrin : his lip began to quiver ; and, suffering 
 the paper to fall from his hand, his head dropped 
 upon his chest, like that of a man whose hopes were 
 withered at a single blow. Duncan caught the 
 letter from the ground, and, without apology for 
 the liberty he took, he read at a glance its cruel 
 purport. Their common superior, so far from en- 
 couraging them to resist, advised a speedy sur- 
 render, urging in the plainest language as a reason, 
 the utter impossibility of his sending a single man 
 to their rescue. 
 
 “ Here is no deception ! ” exclaimed Duncan, 
 examining the billet both inside and out ; “ this 
 is the signature of Webb, and must be the cap- 
 tured letter.” 
 
 “ The man has betrayed me ! ” Munro at length 
 bitterly exclaimed ; “ he has brought dishonor to 
 the door of one where disgrace was never before 
 known to dwell, and shame has he heaped heavily 
 on my gray hairs.” 
 
 “ Say not so,” cried Duncan ; “ we are yet 
 masters of the fort, and of our honor. Let us, 
 then, sell our lives at such a rate as shall make 
 our enemies believe the purchase too dear.” 
 
 “ Boy, I thank thee,” exclaimed the old man, 
 rousing himself from his stupor ; “ you have, for 
 once, reminded Munro of his duty. We will go 
 back and dig our graves behind those ramparts.” 
 
 “Messieurs,” said Montcalm, advancing tow- 
 ard them a step, in generous interest, “ you little 
 know Louis de St. Veran, if you believe him 
 capable of profiting by this letter to humble brave 
 men, or to build up a dishonest reputation for 
 himself. Listen to my terms before you leave 
 me.” 
 
 “ What says the Frenchman ? ” demanded the 
 veteran, sternly ; “ does he make a merit of having 
 captured a scout, with a note from headquarters ? 
 Sir, he had better raise this siege, to go and sit 
 down before Edward, if he wishes to frighten his 
 enemy with words.” 
 
 Duncan explained the other’s meaning. 
 
 “ Monsieur de Montcalm, we will hear you, 1 * 
 the veteran added, more calmly, as Duncan ended. 
 
 “ To retain the fort is now impossible,” said his 
 liberal enemy. “ It is necessary to the interests 
 of my master that it should be destroyed ; but, as 
 for yourselves, and your brave comrades, there is 
 no privilege dear to a soldier that shall be de- 
 nied.” 
 
 “ Our colors ? ” demanded Heyward. 
 
 “ Carry them to England, and show them to 
 your king.” 
 
 “ Our arms ? ” 
 
 “ Keep them ; none can use them better.” 
 
 “ Our march ; the surrender of the place ? ” 
 
 “ Shall all be done in a way most honorable 
 to yourselves.” 
 
 Duncan now turned to explain these proposals 
 to his commander, who heard him with amaze- 
 ment, and a sensibility that was deeply touched 
 by so unusual and unexpected generosity. 
 
 “ Go you, Duncan,” he said ; “ go with this 
 marquess, as indeed marquess he should be ; go to 
 his marquee, and arrange it all. I have lived to 
 see two things in my old age, that never did I ex- 
 pect to behold — an Englishman afraid to support 
 a friend, and a Frenchman too honest to profit 
 by his advantage.” 
 
 So saying, the veteran again dropped his head 
 to his chest, and returned slowly toward the fort, 
 exhibiting, by the dejection of his air, to the 
 anxious garrison, a harbinger of evil tidings. 
 
 From the shock of this unexpected blow the 
 haughty feelings of Munro never recovered ; but 
 from that moment there commenced a change in 
 his determined character, which accompanied him 
 to a speedy grave. Duncan remained to settle 
 the terms of the capitulation. He was seen to re- 
 enter the works during the first watches of the 
 night, and, immediately after a private conference 
 with the commandant, to leave them again. It 
 was then openly announced that hostilities must 
 cease — Munro having signed a treaty, by which 
 the place was to be yielded to the enemy, with 
 the morning ; the garrison to retain their arms, 
 their colors, and their baggage, and consequently 
 according to military opinion, their honor 
 
MONTCALM AND MAGUA. 
 
 83 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 “ Weave we the woof. The thread is spun. 
 
 The web is wove. The work is done.” 
 
 Gray. 
 
 The hostile armies, which lay in the wilds of 
 the Horican, passed the night of the 9th of Au- 
 gust, 1757, much in the manner they would had 
 they encountered on the fairest field of Europe. 
 While the conquered were still, sullen, and de- 
 jected, the victors triumphed. But there are 
 limits, alike, to grief and joy; and, long before 
 the watches of the morning came, the stillness 
 of those boundless woods was only broken by a 
 gay call from some exulting young Frenchman of 
 the advanced pickets, or a menacing challenge 
 from the fort, which sternly forbade the approach 
 of any hostile footsteps before the stipulated 
 moment. Even these occasional threatening 
 sounds ceased to be heard in that dull hour which 
 precedes the day, at which period a listener 
 might have sought in vain any evidence of the 
 presence of those armed powers that then slum- 
 bered on the shores of the “ holy lake.” 
 
 It was during these moments of deep silence, 
 that the canvas which concealed the entrance to 
 a spacious marquee in the French encampment 
 was shoved aside, and a man issued from beneath 
 the drapery into the open air. He was enveloped 
 in a cloak that might have been intended as a 
 protection from the chilling damps of the woods, 
 but which served equally well as a mantle, to 
 conceal his person. He was permitted to pass 
 the grenadier, who watched over the slumbers 
 of the French commander, without interruption, 
 the man making the usual salute which betokens 
 military deference, as the other passed swiftly 
 through the little city of tents, in the direction 
 of William Henry. Whenever this unknown in- 
 dividual encountered one of the numberless sen- 
 tinels who crossed his path, his answer was 
 prompt, and as it appeared satisfactory ; for he 
 was uniformly allowed to proceed, without fur- 
 ther interrogation. 
 
 With the exception of such repeated, but 
 brief interruptions, he had moved, silently, from 
 the centre of the camp, to its most advanced 
 outposts, when he drew nigh the soldier who held 
 his watch nearest to the works of the enemy. 
 As he approached he was received with tho usual 
 challenge : 
 
 “ Qui vive ? ” 
 
 “ France,” was the reply. 
 
 “Le mot d’ordre ? ” 
 
 “La victoire,” said the other, drawing so 
 aigh as to be heard in a loud whisper. 
 
 “ C’est bien,” returned the sentinel, throwing 
 his musket from the charge to his shoulder : 
 “ vous vous promenez bien matin, monsieur ! ” 
 
 “ II est necessaire d’etre vigilant, mon en- 
 fant,” the other observed, dropping a fold of his 
 cloak, and looking the soldier close in the face, 
 as he passed him, still continuing his way tow- 
 ard the British fortification. The man started ; 
 his arms rattled heavily, as he threw them for- 
 ward, in the lowest and most respectful salute ; 
 and, when he had again recovered his piece, he 
 turned to walk his post, muttering between his 
 teeth : 
 
 “ II faut etre vigilant, en v6rit6 ! je crois que 
 nous avons 1&, un caporal qui ne dort jamais ! ” 
 
 The officer proceeded, without affecting to 
 hear the words which escaped the sentinel in his 
 surprise ; nor did he again pause until he had 
 reached the low strand, and in a somewhat dan- 
 gerous vicinity to the western water-bastion of 
 the fort. The light of an obscure moon was just 
 sufficient to render objects, though dim, percep- 
 tible in their outlines. He, therefore, took the 
 precaution to place himself against the trunk of 
 a tree, where he leaned for many minutes, and 
 seemed to contemplate the dark and silent 
 mounds of the English works in profound atten- 
 tion. His gaze at the ramparts was not that of a 
 curious or idle spectator; but his looks wan- 
 dered from point to point, denoting. his knowl- 
 edge of military usages, and betraying that his 
 search was not unaccompanied by distrust. At 
 length he appeared satisfied ; and, having cast his 
 eyes impatiently upward toward the summit of 
 the eastern mountain, as if anticipating the ap- 
 proach of the morning, he was in the act of turn- 
 ing on his footsteps, when a light sound on the 
 nearest angle of the bastion caught his ear, and 
 induced him to remain. 
 
 Just then a figure was seen to approach the 
 edge of the rampart, where it stood, apparently 
 contemplating in its turn the distant tents of the 
 French encampment. Its head was then turned 
 toward the east, as though equally anxious for 
 the appearance of light, when the form leaned 
 against the mound, and seemed to gaze upon the 
 glassy expanse of the waters, which, like a sub- 
 marine firmament, glittered with its thousand 
 mimic stars. The melancholy air, the hour, to- 
 gether with the vast frame of the man who thus 
 leaned, in musing, against the English ramparts, 
 left no doubt as to his person, in the mind of the 
 observant spectator. Delicacy, no less than pru- 
 dence, now urged him to retire ; and he had 
 moved cautiously round the body of the tree for 
 that purpose, when another sound drew his at* 
 
84 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 tention, and once more arrested his footsteps. It 
 was a low and almost inaudible movement of the 
 water, and was succeeded by a grating of pebbles 
 one against the other. In a moment he saw a 
 dark form rise, as it were, out of the lake, and 
 steal without further noise to the land, within a 
 few feet of the place where he himself stood. A 
 rifle next slowly rose between his eyes and the 
 watery mirror ; but before it could be discharged 
 his own hand was on the lock. 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” exclaimed the savage, whose treach- 
 erous aim was so singularly and so unexpectedly 
 interrupted. 
 
 Without making any reply, the French officer 
 laid his hand on the shoulder of the Indian, and 
 led him in profound silence to a distance from 
 the spot, where their subsequent dialogue might 
 have proved dangerous, and where it seemed that 
 one of them, at least, sought a victim. Then, 
 throwing open his cloak, so as to expose his uni- 
 form, and the cross of St. Louis which was sus- 
 pended at his breast, Montcalm sternly demand- 
 ed : 
 
 “What means this? does not my son know 
 that the hatchet is buried between the English 
 and his Canadian father ? ” 
 
 “ What can the Hurons do ? ” returned the 
 savage, speaking also, though imperfectly, in the 
 French language. “ Not a warrior has a scalp, 
 and the pale-faces make friends ! ” . 
 
 “ Ha ! Le Renard Subtil ! Methinks this is 
 an excess of zeal for a friend who was so late an 
 enemy ! How many suns have set since Le Re- 
 nard struck the war-post of the English ? ” 
 
 “ Where is that sun ? ” demanded the sullen 
 savage. “ Behind the hill ; and it is dark and 
 cold. But, when he comes again, it will be bright 
 and warm. Le Subtil is the sun of his tribe. 
 There have been clouds, and many mountains be- 
 tween him and his nation ; but now he shines, 
 and it is a clear sky ! ” 
 
 “ That Le Renard has power with his people, 
 I well know,” said Montcalm ; “ for yesterday he 
 hunted for their scalps, and to-day they hear him 
 at the council-fire.” 
 
 “ Magua is a great chief.” 
 
 “ Let him prove it, by teaching his nation 
 how to conduct toward our new friends.” 
 
 “ Why did the chief of the Canadas bring his 
 young men into the woods, and fire his cannon at 
 the earthen house?” demanded the subtle In- 
 dian. 
 
 “ To subdue it. My master owns the land, 
 and your father was ordered to drive off these 
 English squatters. They have consented to go, 
 and now he calls them enemies no longer.” 
 
 “ ’Tis well. Magua took the hatchet to color 
 it with blood. It is now bright ; when it is red, 
 it shall be buried.” 
 
 “ But Magua is pledged not to sully the lilies 
 of France. The enemies of the great king across 
 the salt lake are his enemies ; his friends, the 
 friends of the Hurons.” 
 
 “ Friends ! ” repeated the Indian, in scorn. 
 “ Let his father give Magua a hand.” 
 
 Montcalm, who felt that his influence over the 
 warlike tribes he had gathered was to be main- 
 tained by concession rather than by power, com- 
 plied reluctantly with the other’s request. The 
 savage placed the finger of the French com- 
 mander on a deep scar in his bosom, and then eu- 
 ultingly demanded : 
 
 “ Does my father know that ? ” 
 
 “ What warrior does not ? ’tis where a leaden 
 bullet has cut.” 
 
 “ And this ? ” continued the Indian, who had 
 turned his naked back to the other, his body be- 
 ing without its usual calico mantle. 
 
 “ This ! — my son has been badly injured here. 
 Who has done this ? ” 
 
 “ Magua slept hard in the English wigwams, 
 and the sticks have left their mark,” returned the 
 savage, with a hollow laugh, which did not con- 
 ceal the fierce temper that nearly choked him. 
 Then, recollecting himself, with sudden and na- 
 tive dignity, he added : “ Go ; teach your young 
 men, it is peace. Le Renard Subtil knows how 
 to speak to a Huron warrior.” 
 
 Without deigning to bestow further words, or 
 to wait for any answer, the savage cast his rifle 
 into the hollow of his arm, and moved silently 
 through the encampment toward the woods where 
 his own tribe was known to lie. Every few yards, 
 as he proceeded, he was challenged by the senti- 
 nels ; but he stalked sullenly onward, utterly dis- 
 regarding the summons of the soldiers, who only 
 spared his life because they knew the air and 
 tread no less than the obstinate daring of an In- 
 dian. 
 
 Montcalm lingered long and melancholy on 
 the strand, where he had been left by his com- 
 panion, brooding deeply on the temper which his 
 ungovernable ally had just discovered. Already 
 had his fair fame been tarnished by one horrid 
 scene, and in circumstances fearfully resembling 
 those under which he now found himself. As he 
 mused, he became keenly sensible of the deep re- 
 sponsibility they assume who disregard the means 
 to attain their end, and of all the danger of set- 
 ting in motion an engine which it exceeds human 
 power to conti ol. Then shaking off a train of re- 
 flections that he accounted a weakness in such a 
 
SURRENDER OF THE BRITISH FORT. 
 
 85 
 
 moment of triumph, he retraced his steps toward 
 his tent, giving the order, as he passed, to make 
 the signal that should arouse the army from its 
 slumbers. 
 
 The first tap of the French drums was echoed 
 from the bosom of the fort, and presently the val- 
 ley was filled with the strains of martial music, 
 rising long, thrilling, and lively, above the rattling 
 accompaniment. The horns of the victors sound- 
 ed merry and cheerful flourishes, until the last 
 laggard of the camp was at his post ; but, the in- 
 stant the British fifes had blown their shrill sig- 
 nal, they became mute. In the mean time the 
 day had dawned, and, when the line of the French 
 army was ready to receive its general, the rays 
 of a brilliant sun were glancing along the glitter- 
 ing array. Then, that success which. was already 
 so well known, was officially announced ; the fa- 
 vored band who were selected to guard the gates 
 of the fort were detailed, and defiled before their 
 chief ; the signal of their approach was given, and 
 all the usual preparations for a change of masters 
 were ordered and executed directly under the 
 guns of the contested works. 
 
 A very different scene presented itself within 
 the lines of the Anglo-American army. As soon 
 as the warning signal was given, it exhibited all 
 the signs of a hurried and forced departure. The 
 sullen soldiers shouldered their empty tubes and 
 fell into their places, like men whose blood had 
 been heated by the past contest* and who only 
 desired the opportunity to revenge an indignity 
 which was still wounding to their pride, concealed 
 as it was under all the observances of military 
 etiquette. Women and children ran from place 
 to place, some bearing the scanty remnants of 
 their baggage, and others searching in the ranks 
 for those countenances they looked up to for pro- 
 tection. 
 
 Munro appeared among his silent troops firm 
 but dejected. It was evident that the unexpected 
 blow had struck deep into his heart, though he 
 struggled to sustain his misfortune with the port 
 of a man. 
 
 Duncan was touched at the quiet and impres- 
 sive exhibition of his grief. He had discharged 
 his own duty, and he nbw pressed to the side of 
 the old man, to know in what particular he might 
 serve him. 
 
 “ My daughters,” was the brief but expressive 
 reply. 
 
 “ Good Heavens ! are not arrangements already 
 made for their convenience ? ” 
 
 “ To-day I am only a soldier, Major Heyward,” 
 said the veteran. “ All that you see here claim 
 alike to be my children.” 
 
 Duncan had heard enough. Without losing 
 one of those moments which had now become so 
 precious, he flew toward the quarters of Munro in 
 quest of the sisters. He found them on the thresh- 
 old of the low edifice, already prepared to depart, 
 and surrounded by a clamorous and weeping as- 
 semblage of their own sex, that had gathered about 
 the place w’ith a sort of instinctive consciousness 
 that it was the point most likely to be protected. 
 Though the cheeks of Cora were pale, and her 
 countenance anxious, she had lost none of her 
 firmness ; but the eyes of Alice were inflamed, 
 and betrayed how long and bitterly she had wept. 
 They both, however, received the young man with 
 undisguised pleasure; the former, for a novelty, 
 being the first to speak. 
 
 “The fort is lost,” she said, with a melan- 
 choly smile ;, “ though our good name, I trust, 
 remains.” 
 
 “ ’Tis brighter than ever. But, dearest Miss 
 Munro, it is time to think less of others, and to 
 make some provision for yourself. Military usage 
 — pride — that pride on which you so much value 
 yourself, demands that your father and I should 
 for a little while continue with the troops. Then 
 where to seek a proper protector for you against 
 the confusion and chances of such a scene ? ” 
 
 “None is necessary,” returned Cora; “who 
 will dare to injure or insult the daughter of such 
 a father at a time like this ? ” 
 
 “ I would not leave you alone,” continued the 
 youth, looking about him in a hurried manner, 
 “ for the command of the best regiment in the 
 pay of the king. Remember, our Aliee is not 
 gifted with all your firmness, and God only knows 
 the terror she might endure.” 
 
 “You may be right,” Cora replied, smiling 
 again, but far more sadly than before. “ Listen ; 
 chance has already sent us a friend when he is 
 most needed.” 
 
 Duncan did listen, and on the instant compre- 
 hended her meaning. The low and serious sounds 
 of the sacred music, so well known to the eastern 
 provinces, caught his ear, and instantly drew him 
 to an apartment in an adjacent building, which 
 had already been deserted by its eustomary ten- 
 ants. There he found David pouring out his pious 
 feelings through the only medium in which he 
 ever indulged. Duncan waited, until, by the 
 cessation of the movement of the hand, he be- 
 lieved the strain was ended, when, by touching 
 his shoulder* he drew the attention of the other 
 to himself, and in a few words explained his 
 wishes. 
 
 “ Even so,” replied the single-minded disciple 
 of the King of Israel, when the young man had 
 
86 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 ended ; “ I have found much that is comely and 
 melodious in the maidens, and it is fitting that we, 
 who have consorted in so much peril, should abide 
 together in peace. I will attend them when I 
 have completed my morning praise, to which 
 nothing is now wanting but the doxology. Wilt 
 thou bear a part, friend ? The metre is common, 
 and the tune ‘ Southwell.’ ” 
 
 Then, extending the little volume, and giving 
 the pitch of the air anew with considerate atten- 
 tion, David recommenced and finished his strains 
 with a fixedness of manner that it was not easy to 
 interrupt. Heyward was fain to wait until the 
 verse was ended ; when, seeing David relieving 
 himself from the spectacles and replacing the 
 book, he continued : 
 
 “ It will be your duty to see that none dare 
 to approach the ladies with any rude intention, 
 or to offer insult or taunt at the misfortune of 
 their brave father. In this task you will be 
 seconded by the domestics of their household.” 
 
 “ Even so.” 
 
 “ It is possible that the Indians and stragglers 
 of the enemy may intrude, in which case you will 
 remind them of the terms of the capitulation, and 
 threaten to report their conduct to Montcalm. A 
 word will suffice.” 
 
 “ If not, I have that here which shall,” re- 
 turned David, exhibiting his book with an air in 
 which meekness and confidence were singularly 
 blended. “ Here are words which, uttered, or rath- 
 er thundered, with proper emphasis, and in meas- 
 ured time, shall quiet the most unruly temper — 
 
 “ ‘ Why rage the heathen furiously 1 1 
 
 “ Enough,” said Heyward, interrupting the 
 burst of his musical invocation : “ we understand 
 each other ; it is time that we should now assume 
 our respective duties.” 
 
 Gamut cheerfully assented, and together they 
 sought the females. Cora received her new and 
 somewhat extraordinary protector courteously at 
 least ; and even the pallid features of Alice lighted 
 again with some of their native archness as she 
 thanked Heyward for his care. Duncan took oc- 
 casion to assure them he had done the best that 
 circumstances permitted, and, as he believed, 
 quite enough for the security of their feelings ; 
 of danger there was none. He then spoke gladly 
 of his intention to rejoin them the moment he 
 had led the advance a few miles toward the Hud- 
 son, and immediately took his leave. 
 
 By this time the signal of departure had been 
 given, and the head of the English column was in 
 motion. The sisters started at the sound, and, 
 glancing their eyes around, they saw the white 
 uniforms of the French grenadiers, who had al- 
 
 ready taken possession of the gates of the fort, 
 At that moment an enormous cloud seemed tc 
 pass suddenly above their heads, and, looking up- 
 ward, they discovered that they stood beneath 
 the wide folds of the standard of France. 
 
 “ Let us go,” said Cora ; “ this is no longer 
 a fit place for the children of an English officer.” 
 
 Alice clung to the arm of her sister, and to- 
 gether they left the parade, accompanied by the 
 moving throng that surrounded them. 
 
 As they passed the gates, the French officers, 
 who had learned their rank, bowed often and low, 
 forbearing, however, to intrude those attentions 
 which they saw, with peculiar tact, might not be 
 agreeable. As every vehicle and each beast of 
 burden was occupied by the sick and wounded, 
 Cora had decided to endure the fatigues of a foot- 
 march rather than interfere with their comforts. 
 Indeed, many a maimed and feeble soldier was 
 compelled to drag his exhausted limbs in the rear 
 of the columns for the want of the necessary means 
 of conveyance in that wilderness. The whole, how- 
 ever, was in motion ; the weak and wounded groan- 
 ing, and in suffering; their comrades, silent and 
 sullen ; and the women and children in terror 
 they knew not of what. 
 
 As the confused and timid throng left the pro- 
 tecting mounds of the fort and issued on the open 
 plain, the whole scene was at once presented to 
 their eyes. At a little distance on the right, and 
 somewhat in the rear, the French army stood to 
 their arms, Montcalm having collected his parties 
 so soon as his guards had possession of the works. 
 They were attentive but silent observers of the 
 proceedings of the vanquished, failing in none of 
 the stipulated military honors, and offering no 
 taunt or insult, in their success, to their less for- 
 tunate foes. Living masses of the English, to the 
 amount in the whole of near three thousand, 
 were moving slowly across the plain toward the 
 common centre, and gradually approached each 
 other, as they converged to the point of their 
 march, a vista cut through the lofty trees, where 
 the road to the Hudson entered the forest. 
 Along the sweeping borders of the woods hung 
 a dark cloud of savages, eying the passage of 
 their enemies, and hovdring, at a distance, like 
 vultures, who were only kept from stooping on 
 their prey by the presence and restraint of a su- 
 perior army. A few had straggled among the 
 conquered columns, where they stalked in sullen 
 discontent ; attentive, though, as yet, passive 
 observers of the moving multitude. 
 
 The advance, with Heyward at its head, had 
 already reached the defile, and was slowly disap- 
 pearing, when the attention of Cora was drawn 
 
A REVOLTING SCENE. 
 
 87 
 
 to a collection of stragglers, by the sounds of 
 contention. A truant provincial was paying the 
 forfeit of his disobedience, by being plundered 
 of those very effects which had caused him to 
 desert his place in the ranks. The man was of 
 powerful frame, and too avaricious to part with 
 his goods without a struggle. Individuals from 
 either party interfered ; the one side to prevent, 
 and the other to aid in the robbery. Voices grew 
 loud and angry, ‘and a hundred savages appeared, 
 as it were by magic, where a dozen only had been 
 seen a minute before. It was then that Cora saw 
 the form of Magua gliding among his countrymen, 
 and speaking with his fatal and artful eloquence. 
 The mass of women and children stopped, and 
 hovered together like alarmed and fluttering 
 birds. But the cupidity of the Indian was soon 
 gratified, and the different bodies again moved 
 6lowly onward. 
 
 The savages now fell back, and seemed con- 
 tent to let their enemies advance without further 
 molestation. But as the female crowd approached 
 them, the gaudy colors of a shawl attracted the 
 eyes of a wild and untutored Huron. He ad- 
 vanced to seize it without the least hesitation. 
 The woman, more in terror than through love 
 of the ornament, wrapped her child in the cov- 
 eted article, and folded both more closely to her 
 bosom. Cora was in the act of speaking, with 
 an intent to advise the woman to abandon the 
 trifle, when the savage relinquished his hold of 
 the shawl, and tore the screaming infant from 
 her arms. Abandoning every thing to the greedy 
 grasp of those around her, the mother darted, 
 with distraction in her mien, to reclaim her child. 
 The Indian smiled grimly, and extended one hand, 
 in sign of a willingness to exchange, while, with 
 the other, he flourished the babe over his head, 
 holding it by the feet as if to enhance the value 
 of the ransom. 
 
 “ Here — here — there — all — any — every 
 thing ! ” exclaimed the breathless woman ; tear- 
 ing the lighter articles of dress from her person, 
 with ill-directed and trembling fingers ; “ take all, 
 but give me my babe ! 
 
 The savage spurned the worthless rags, and 
 perceiving that the shawl had already become a 
 prize to another, his bantering but sullen smile 
 changing to a gleam of ferocity, he dashed the 
 head of the infant against a rock, and cast its 
 quivering remains to her very feet. For an in 
 etant, the mother stood, like a statue of despair, 
 looking wildly down at the unseemly object, 
 which had so lately nestled in her bosom and 
 cmiled in her face ; and then she raised her eyes 
 and countenance toward heaven, as if calling on 
 
 God to curse the perpetrator of the foul deed. 
 She was spared the sin of such a prayer ; for, 
 maddened at his disappointment, and excited at 
 the sight of blood, the Huron mercifully drove 
 his tomahawk into her own brain. The mother 
 sank under the blow, and fell, grasping at her 
 child, in death, with the same engrossing love 
 that had caused her to cherish it when living. 
 
 At that dangerous moment Magua placed his 
 hands to his mouth, and raised the fatal and ap- 
 palling whoop. The scattered Indians started at 
 the well-known cry, as coursers bound at the sig- 
 nal to quit the goal ; and, directly, there arose 
 such a yell along the plain, and through the arch- 
 es of the wood, as seldom burst from human 
 lips before. They who heard it, listened with a 
 curdling horror at the heart, little inferior to that 
 dread which may be expected to attend the 
 blasts of the final summons. 
 
 More than two thousand raving savages broke 
 from the forest at the signal, and threw them- 
 selves across the fatal plain with instinctive alac- 
 rity. We shall not dwell on the revolting hor- 
 rors that succeeded. Death was everywhere, and 
 in his most terrific and disgusting aspects. Re- 
 sistance only served to inflame the murderers, 
 who inflicted their furious blows long after their 
 victims were beyond the power of their resent- 
 ment. The flow of blood might be likened to 
 the outbreaking of a torrent ; and as the natives 
 became heated and maddened by the sight, many 
 among them even kneeled to the earth, and drank 
 freely, exultingly, hellishly, of the crimson tide. 
 
 The trained bodies of the troops threw them- 
 selves quickly into solid masses, endeavoring to 
 awe their assailants by the imposing appearance 
 of a military front. The experiment in some 
 measure succeeded, though far too many suffered 
 their unloaded muskets to be tom from their 
 hands, in the vain hope of appeasing the sav- 
 ages. 
 
 In such a scene none had leisure to note the 
 fleeting moments. It might have been ten min- 
 utes (it seemed an age), that the sisters had 
 stood riveted to one spot, horror-stricken, and 
 nearly helpless. When the first blow was struck, 
 their screaming companions had pressed upon 
 them in a body, rendering flight impossible ; and 
 now that fear or death had scattered most, if not 
 all, from around them, they saw no avenue open, 
 but such as conducted to the tomahawks of their 
 foes. On every side arose shrieks, groans, ex- 
 hortations, and curses. At this moment, Alice 
 caught a glimpse of the vast form of her father, 
 moving rapidly across the plain, in the direction 
 of the French army. He was, in truth, proceed- 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 08 
 
 ing to Montcalm, fearless of every danger, to 
 claim the tardy escort for which he had before 
 conditioned. Fifty glittering axes and barbed 
 spears were offered unheeded at his life, but the 
 savages respected his rank and calmness, even in 
 their fury, The dangerous weapons were brushed 
 aside by tne siiil nervous arm of the veteran, or 
 fell of themselves, after menacing an act that it 
 would seem no one had courage to perform. For- 
 tunately, the vindictive Magua was searching for 
 his victim in the very band the veteran had just 
 quitted. 
 
 “Father — father — wo are here!” shrieked 
 Alice, as he passed, at no great distance, without 
 appearing to heed them. “ Come to us, father, 
 or we die !■” 
 
 The cry was repeated, and in terms and tones 
 that might have melted a hearC ol stone, but it 
 was unanswered. Once, indeed, the old man ap- 
 peared to catch the sounds, for he paused and 
 listened ; but Alice had dropped senseless on the 
 earth, and Cora had sunk at her side, hovering in 
 untiring tenderness over her lifeless term. Munro 
 shook his head in disappointment, ana proceed- 
 ed, bent on the high duty of his station 
 
 “ Lady,” said Gamut; who, helpless and use- 
 less as he was, had not yet dreamed of deserting 
 his trust, “it is the jubilee of the devilw, and this 
 is not a meet place for Christians to tarry in. 
 Let us up and fly.” 
 
 “ Go,” said Cora, still gazing at her uncon- 
 scious sister ; “ save thyself. To me thou canst 
 not be of further use.” 
 
 David comprehended the unyielding character 
 of her resolution, by the simple but expressive 
 gesture that accompanied her words. He gazed, 
 for a moment, at the dusky forms that were act- 
 ing their hellish rites on every side of him, and 
 his tall person grew more erect, while his chest 
 heaved, and every feature swelled, and seemed to 
 speak with the power of the feelings by which 
 he was governed. 
 
 “If the Jewish boy might tame the evil spirit 
 of Saul by the sound of his harp, and the words 
 of sacred song, it may not be amiss,” he said, 
 “ to try the potency of music here.” 
 
 Then raising his voice to its highest tones, he 
 poured out a strain so powerful as to be heard even 
 amid the din of that bloody field. More than one 
 savage rushed toward them, thinking to rifle the 
 unprotected sisters of their attire, and bear away 
 their scalps ; but when they found this strange 
 and unmoved figure riveted to his post, they 
 paused to listen. Astonishment soon changed to 
 admiration, and they passed on to other and less 
 courageous victims, openly expressing their satis- 
 
 faction at the firmness with which the white war« 
 rior sang his death-song. Eneouraged and de- 
 luded bv his success, David exerted all his 
 powers to extend what he believed so holy an 
 influence. The unwonted sounds caught the ears 
 of a distant savage, who flew raging from group 
 to group, like one who, scorning to touch the 
 vulgar herd, hunted for some victim more wor- 
 thy of his renown. It was Magua, who uttered 
 a yell of pleasure when he beheld his ancitut 
 prisoners again at his mercy. 
 
 “ Gome,” he said, laying his soiled hands on 
 the dress of Cora, “the wigwam of the Huron is 
 still open. Is it not better than this place ? ” 
 
 “Away !” cried Cora, veiling her eyes from 
 his revolting aspect. 
 
 The Indian laughed tauntingly, as he held up 
 his reeking hand, and answered : 
 
 “ It is red, but it comes from white veins 1 ” 
 
 “ Monster ! there is blood, oceans of blood, up- 
 on thy soul ; thy spirit has moved this scene.” 
 
 “ Magua is a great chief ! ” returned the ex- 
 ulting savage ; “ will the dark-hair go to his 
 tribe?” 
 
 “ Never ! strike if thou wilt, and complete thy 
 revenge.” 
 
 He hesitated a moment ; and then catching 
 the light and senseless form of Alice in his arms, 
 the subtle Indian moved swiftly across the plain 
 toward the woods. 
 
 “ Hold !” shrieked Cora, following wildly on 
 his footsteps ; “release the child L wretch ! what 
 is’t you do ? ” 
 
 But Magua was deaf to her voice ; or rather 
 he knew his power, and was determined to main- 
 tain it. 
 
 “ Stay — lady — stay,” called Gamut, after the 
 unconscious Cora. “The holy charm is begin- 
 ning to be felt, and soon shalt thou see this hor- 
 rid tumult stilled.” 
 
 Perceiving that, in his turn, he was unheeded, 
 the faithful David followed the distracted sister, 
 raising his voice again in sacred song, and sweep- 
 ing the air to the measure, with his long arm, in 
 diligent accompaniment. In this manner they 
 traversed the plain, through the flying, the 
 wounded, and the dead. The fierce Huron was, 
 at any time, sufficient for himself and the victim 
 that he bore ; though Cora would have fallen, 
 more than once, under the blows of her savage 
 enemies, but for the extraordinary being who 
 stalked in her rear, and who now appeared to the 
 astonished natives gifted with the protecting 
 spirit of madness. 
 
 Magua, who knew how to avoid the more 
 pressing dangers, and also to elude pursuit, en- 
 
ON THE SHORES OF LAKE GEORGE. 
 
 S9 
 
 tered the woods through a low ravine, where he 
 quickly found the Narragansets, which the travel- 
 lers had abandoned so shortly before, awaiting 
 his appearance, in custody of a savage as fierce 
 and as malign in his expression as himself. Lay- 
 ing Alice on one of the horses, he made a sign to 
 Cora to mount the other. 
 
 Notwithstanding the horror excited by the 
 presence of her captor, there was a present relief 
 in escaping from the bloody scene enacting on the 
 plain, to which Cora could not be altogether in- 
 sensible. She took her seat, and held forth her 
 arms for her sister, with an air of entreaty and 
 love that even the Huron could not deny. Pla- 
 cing Alice, then, on the same animal with Cora, he 
 seized the bridle, and commenced his route by 
 plunging deeper into the forest. David, perceiv- 
 ing that he was left alone, utterly disregarded as 
 a subject too worthless even to destroy, threw his 
 long limb across the saddle of the beast they had 
 deserted, and made such progress in the pursuit 
 as the difficulties of the path permitted. 
 
 They soon began to ascend ; but as the mo- 
 tion had a tendency to revive the dormant facul- 
 ties of her sister, the attention of Cora was too 
 much divided between the tenderest solicitude in 
 her behalf, and in listening to the cries which 
 were still too audible on the plain, to note the 
 direction in which they journeyed. When, how- 
 ever, they gained the flattened surface of the 
 mountain-top, and approached the eastern preci- 
 pice, she recognized the spot to which she had 
 once before been led under the more friendly au- 
 spices of the scout. Here Magua suffered them to 
 dismount; and, notwithstanding their own cap- 
 tivity, the curiosity which seems inseparable from 
 horror, induced them to gaze at the sickening 
 sight below. 
 
 The cruel work was still unchecked. On 
 every side the captured were flying before their 
 relentless persecutors, while the armed columns of 
 the Christian king stood fast in an apathy which 
 has never been explained, and which has left an 
 immovable blot on the otherwise fair escutcheon 
 of their leader. Nor was the sword of death 
 stayed until cupidity got the mastery of revenge. 
 Then, indeed, the shrieks of the wounded and the 
 yells of their murderers grew less frequent, until, 
 finally, the cries of horror were lost to their ear, 
 or were drowned in the loud, long, and piercing 
 whoops of the triumphant savages.* 
 
 * The accounts of the number who fell in this unhappy 
 tffiur vary between five and fifteen hundred. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 “ Why, any thing : 
 
 An honorable murderer, if you will ; 
 
 For naught I did in hate, but all in honor 
 
 Othbu.0. 
 
 The bloody and inhuman scene rather incident- 
 ally mentioned than described in the preceding 
 chapter, is conspicuous in the pages of colonial 
 history, by the merited title of “ The Massacre of 
 William Henry.” It so far deepened the stain 
 which a previous and very similar event had left 
 upon the reputation of the French commander, 
 that it was not entirel y erased by his early and 
 glorious death. It is now becoming obscured by 
 time ; and thousands, who know that Montcalm 
 died like a hero on the plains of Abraham, have 
 yet to learn how much he was deficient in that 
 moral courage without which no man can be truly 
 great. Pages might be written to prove, from 
 this illustrious example, the defects of human 
 excellence ; to show how easy it is for generous 
 sentiments, high courtesy, and chivalrous courage, 
 to lose their influence beneath the chilling blight 
 of selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man 
 who was great in all the minor attributes of char- 
 acter, but who was found wanting when it be- 
 came necessary to prove how much principle is 
 superior to policy. But the task would exceed 
 our prerogatives ; and, as history, like love, is so 
 apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere 
 of imaginary brightness, it is probable that Louis 
 de Saint-Veran will be viewed by posterity only 
 as the gallant defender of his country, while his 
 cruel apathy on the shores of the Oswego and of 
 the Horican will be forgotten. Deeply regretting 
 this weakness on the part of a sister-muse, we 
 shall at once retire, from her sacred precincts, 
 within the proper limits of our own humble vo- 
 cation. 
 
 The third day from the capture of the fort 
 was drawing to a close, but the business of the 
 narrative must still detain the reader on the 
 shores of the “ holy lake.” When last seen, the 
 environs of the works were filled with violence 
 and uproar. They were now possessed by still- 
 ness and death. The blood-stained conquerors 
 had departed ; and their camp, which had so 
 lately rung with the merry rejoicings of a vic- 
 torious army, lay a silent and deserted city of 
 huts. The fortress was a smouldering ruin ; 
 charred rafters, fragments of exploded artillery, 
 and rent mason- work, covering its earthen mounds 
 in confused disorder. 
 
 A frightful change had also occurred in the 
 season. The sun had hid its warmth behind an 
 
90 
 
 T.HE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 impenetrable mass of vapor, and hundreds of 
 human forms, which had blackened beneath the 
 fierce heats of August, were stiffening in their de- 
 formity, before the blasts of a premature Novem- 
 ber. The curling and spotless mists, which had 
 been seen sailing above the hills toward the north, 
 were now returning in an interminable dusky 
 sheet, that was urged along by the fury of a tem- 
 pest. The crowded mirror of the Horican was 
 gone ; and, in its place, the green and angry 
 waters lashed the shores, as if indignantly cast- 
 ing back its impurities to the polluted strand. 
 Still the clear fountain retained a portion of its 
 charmed influence, but it reflected only the som- 
 bre gloom thart fell from the impending heavens. 
 That humid and congenial atmosphere which 
 commonly adorned the view, veiling its harshness, 
 and softening its asperities, had disappeared, and 
 the northern air poured across the waste of water 
 so harsh and unmingled, that nothing was left to 
 be conjectured by the eye, or fashioned by the 
 fancy. 
 
 The fiercer element had cropped the verdure 
 of the plain, which looked as though it were 
 scathed by the consuming lightning. But, here 
 and there, a dark-green tuft rose in the midst of 
 the desolation ; the earliest fruits of a soil that 
 had been fattened with human blood. The whole 
 landscape, which, seen by a favoring light, and 
 in a genial temperature, had been found so lovely, 
 appeared now like some pictured allegory of life, 
 in which objects were arrayed in their harshest 
 but truest colors, and without the relief of any 
 shadowing. 
 
 The solitary and arid blades of grass arose 
 from the passing gusts fearfully perceptible ; the 
 bold and rocky mountains were too distinct in 
 their barrenness, and the eye even sought relief, 
 in vain, by attempting to pierce the illimitable 
 void of heaven, which was shut to its gaze by the 
 dusky sheet of ragged and driving vapor. 
 
 The wind blew unequally ; sometimes sweep- 
 ing heavily along the ground, seeming to whisper 
 its moanings in the cold ears of the dead, then 
 rising in a shrill and mournful whistling, it entered 
 the forest with a rush that filled the air with the 
 leaves and branches it scattered in its path. Amid 
 the unnatural shower, a few hungry ravens strug- 
 gled with the gale ; but no sooner was the green 
 ocean of woods, which stretched beneath them, 
 passed, than they gladly stooped, at random, to 
 their hideous banquet. 
 
 In short, it was a scene of wildness and deso- 
 lation ; and it appeared as if all who had profanely 
 entered it had been stricken, at a blow, by the 
 relentless arm of Death. But the prohibition had 
 
 ceased ; and, for the first time since the perpetra* 
 tors of those foul deeds which had assisted to 
 disfigure the scene, were gone, living human 
 beings had now presumed to approach the place. 
 
 About an hour before the setting of the sun, 
 on the day already mentioned, the forms of five 
 men might have been seen issuing from the narrow 
 vista of trees, where the path to the Hudson 
 entered the forest, and advancing in the direction 
 of the ruined works. At first their progress was 
 slow and guarded, as though they entered with 
 reluctance amid the horrors of the spot, or 
 dreaded the renewal of its frightful incidents. A 
 light figure preceded the rest of the party, with 
 the caution and activity of a native ; ascending, 
 every hillock to reconnoitre, and indicating, by 
 gestures, to his companions, the route he deemed 
 it most prudent to pursue. Nor were those in 
 the rear wanting in every caution and foresight 
 known to forest warfare. One among them, he also 
 was an Indian, moved a little on one flank, and 
 watched the margin of the woods, with eyes long 
 accustomed to read the smallest signs of danger. 
 The remaining three were white, though clad in 
 vestments adapted, both in quality and color, to 
 their present hazardous pursuit — that of hanging 
 on the skirts of a retiring army in the wilderness. 
 
 The effects produced by the appalling sights 
 that constantly arose in their path to the lake- 
 shore, were as different as the characters of the 
 respective individuals who composed the party. 
 The youth in front threw serious but furtive glances 
 at the mangled victims, as he stepped lightly across 
 the plain, afraid to exhibit his feelings, and yet too 
 inexperienced to quell entirely their sudden and 
 powerful influence. His red associate, however, 
 was superior to such a weakness. He passed 
 the groups of dead with a steadiness of purpose, 
 and an eye so calm, that nothing but long and 
 inveterate practice could enable him to maintain. 
 The sensations produced in the minds of even the 
 white men were different, though uniformly sor- 
 rowful. One, whose gray locks and furrowed 
 lineaments, blending with a martial air and tread, 
 betrayed, in spite of the disguise of a woodman’s 
 dress, a man long experienced in scenes of war, 
 was not ashamed to groan aloud, whenever a spec- 
 tacle of more than usual horror came under his 
 view. The young man at his elbow shuddered, 
 but seemed to suppress his feelings in tenderness 
 to his companion. Of them all, the straggler who 
 brought up the rear, appeared alone to betray his 
 real thoughts, without fear of observation or dread 
 of consequences. He gazed at the most appall- 
 ing sight with eyes and muscles that knew not 
 how to waver, but with execrations so bitter and 
 
HAWK-EYE AND THE MOHICANS. 
 
 91 
 
 jeep as to denote how much he denounced the 
 crime of his enemies. 
 
 The reader will perceive, at once, in these re- 
 spective characters, the Mohicans, and their white 
 friend, the scout ; together with Munro and Hey- 
 ward. It was, in truth, the father in quest of his 
 children, attended by the youth who felt so deep 
 a stake in their happiness, and those brave and 
 trusty foresters, who had already proved their 
 skill and fidelity through the trying scenes related. 
 
 When Uncas, who moved in front, had reached 
 the centre of the plain, he raised a cry that drew 
 his companions in a body to the spot. The young 
 warrior had halted over a group of females who 
 lay in a cluster, a confused mass of dead. Not- 
 withstanding the revolting horror of the exhi- 
 bition, Munro and Heyward flew toward the fester- 
 ing heap, endeavoring, with a love that no un- 
 seemliness could extinguish, to discover whether 
 any vestiges of those they sought were to be seen 
 among the tattered and many-colored garments. 
 The father and the lover found instant relief in 
 the search ; though each was condemned again to 
 experience the misery of an uncertainty that was 
 hardly less insupportable than the most revolting 
 truth. They were standing, silent and thoughtful, 
 around the melancholy pile, when the scout ap- 
 proached. Eying the sad spectacle with an an- 
 gry countenance, the sturdy woodsman, for the 
 first time since his entering the plain, spoke in- 
 telligibly and aloud : 
 
 “ I have been on many a shocking field, and 
 have followed a trail of blood for weary miles,” 
 he said, “ but never have I found the hand of the 
 devil so plain as it is here to be seen ! Revenge 
 is an Indian feeling, and all who know me know 
 that there is no cross in my veins ; but this much 
 will I say — here, in the face of Heaven, and with 
 the power of the Lord so manifest in this howl- 
 ing wilderness — that should these Frenchers ever 
 trust themselves again within the range of a rag- 
 ged bullet, there is one rifle shall play its part, so 
 long as flint will fire or powder burn ! — I leave 
 the tomahawk and knife to such as have a natural 
 gift to use them. — What say you, Chingachgook,” 
 he added in Delaware ; “ shall the Hurons boast 
 of this to their women when the deep snows 
 come ? ” 
 
 A gleam of resentment flashed across the dark 
 lineamentH of the Mohican chief ; he loosened his 
 knife in its sheath ; and then turning calmly from 
 the sight, his countenance settled into a repose as 
 deep as if he never knew the instigation of pas- 
 lion. 
 
 u Montcalm ! Montcalm ! ” continued the deep- 
 ly -resentful and less self-restrained scout ; “ they 
 
 say a time must come, when all the deeds done in 
 the flesh will be seen at a single look ; and that 
 by eyes cleared from mortal infirmities. Woe be- 
 tide the wretch who is bom to behold this plain, 
 with the judgment hanging about his soul ! Ha ! 
 — as I am a man of white blood, yonder lies a red- 
 skin, without the hair of hi3 head where Nature 
 rooted it ! — Look to him, Delaware ; it may be 
 one of your missing people ; and he should have 
 burial like a stout warrior. I see it in your eye, 
 sagamore : a Huron pays for this afore the fall 
 winds have blown away the scent of the blood ! ” 
 
 Chingachgook approached the mutilated form, 
 and, turning it over, he found the distinguishing 
 marks of one of those six allied tribes, or nations, 
 as they were called, who, while they fought in 
 the English ranks, were so deadly hostile to his 
 own people. Spuming the loathsome object with 
 his foot, he turned from it with the same indiffer- 
 ence he would have quitted a brute carcass. The 
 scout comprehended the action, and very deliber- 
 ately pursued his own way, continuing, however, 
 his denunciations against the French commander 
 in the same resentful strain : 
 
 “Nothing but vast wisdom and onlimited 
 power should dare to sweep off men in multi- 
 tudes,” he added ; “ for it is only the one that 
 can know the necessity of the judgment ; and 
 what is there short of the other that can replace 
 the creatures of the Lord ? I hold it a sin to kill 
 the second buck afore the first is eaten, unless a, 
 march in the front, or an ambushment, be con- 
 templated. It is a different matter with a few 
 warriors in open and rugged fight, for ’tis their 
 gift to die with the rifle or the tomahawk in hand ; 
 according as their natures may happen to be, 
 white or red. — Uncas, come this way, lad, and let 
 the ravens settle upon the Mingo. I know, from 
 often seeing it, that they have a craving for the 
 flesh of an Oneida ; and it is as well to let the 
 bird follow the gift of its natural appetite.” 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” exclaimed the young Mohican, ris- 
 ing on the extremities of his feet, and gazing in- 
 tently in his front, frightening the raven to some 
 other prey by the sound and the action. 
 
 “ What is it, boy ? ” whispered the scout, 
 lowering his tall form into a crouching attitude, 
 like a panther about to take his leap ; “ God send 
 it be a tardy Frencher, skulking for plunder ! I 
 do believe ‘ Kill-deer ’ would take an oncommon 
 range to-day ! ” 
 
 Uncas, without making any reply, bounded 
 away from the spot, and in the next instant he 
 was seen tearing from a bush, and waving in 
 triumph, a fragment of the green riding-veil cf 
 Cora. The movement, the exhibition, and the 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 cry, which again burst from the lips of the young 
 Mohican, instantly drew the whole party about 
 him. 
 
 “ My child ! ” said Munro, speaking quick and 
 wildly ; “ give me my child ! ” 
 
 “ Uncas will try,” was the short and touching 
 answer. 
 
 The simple but meaning assurance was lost on 
 the father, who seized the piece of gauze, and 
 crushed it in his hand, while his eyes roamed 
 fearfully among the bushes, as if he equally 
 dreaded and hoped for the secrets they might 
 reveal. 
 
 “ Here are no dead,” said Heyward ; “ the 
 storm seems not to have passed this way.” 
 
 “ That’s manifest ; and clearer than the heav- 
 ens above our heads,” returned the undisturbed 
 scout ; “ but either she, or they that have robbed 
 her, have passed the bush; fori remember the 
 rag she wore to hide a face that all did love to 
 look upon. — Uncas, you are right ; the dark-hair 
 has been here, and she has fled, like a frighted 
 fawn, to the wood ; none who could fly would re- 
 main to be murdered. Let US search for the 
 marks she left ; for, to Indian eyes, I sometimes 
 think even a humming-bird leaves his trail in the 
 air.” 
 
 The young Mohican darted away at the sug- 
 gestion, and the scout had hardly done speak- 
 ing, before the former raised a cry of success 
 from the margin of the forest. On reaching the 
 spot, the anxious party perceived another portion 
 of the veil fluttering on the lower branch of a 
 beech. 
 
 “ Softly, softly,” said the scout, extending his 
 long rifle in front of the eager Heyward ; “ we 
 now know our work, but the beauty of the trail 
 must not be deformed. A step too soon may give 
 us hours of trouble. We have them, though ; that 
 much is beyond denial.” 
 
 “ Bless ye, bless ye, worthy man ! ” exclaimed 
 Munro ; “ whither, then, have they fled, and 
 where are my babes ? ” 
 
 “ The path they have taken depends on many 
 chances. If they have gone alone, they are quite 
 as likely to move in a circle as straight, and they 
 may be within a dozen miles of us ; but if the 
 Hurons, or any of the French Indians, have laid 
 hands on them, ’tis probable they are now near 
 the borders of the Canadas. But what matters 
 that ? ” continued the deliberate scout, observing 
 the powerful anxiety and disappointment the lis- 
 teners exhibited ; “ here are the Mohicans and I 
 an one end of the trail, and, rely on it, we find 
 the other, though they should be a hundred 
 leagues asunder !— -Gently, gently, Uncas ; you are 
 
 as impatient as a man in the settlements ; yon 
 forget that light feet leave but faint marks ! ” 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” exclaimed Chingachgook, who had 
 been occupied in examining an opening that had 
 been evidently made through the low underbrush, 
 which skirted the forest ; and who now stood 
 erect, as he pointed downward, in the attitude 
 and with the air of a man who beheld a disgusting 
 serpent. 
 
 “ Here is the palpable impression of the foot- 
 step of a man,” cried Heyward, bending over the 
 indicated spot ; “ he has trod in the margin of 
 this pool, and the mark cannot be mistaken. 
 They are captives.” 
 
 “ Better so than left to starve in the wilder- 
 ness,” returned the scout ; “ and they will leave 
 a wider trail. I would wager fifty beaver-skins 
 against as many flints, that the Mohicans and I 
 enter their wigwams within the month ! — Stoop 
 to it, Uncas, and try what you can make of the' 
 moccasin ; for moccasin it plainly is, and no 
 shoe.” 
 
 The young Mohican bent over the track, and 
 removing the scattered leaves from around the 
 place, he examined it with much of that sort of 
 scrutiny that a money-dealer, in these days of 
 pecuniary doubts, would bestow on a suspected 
 due-bill. At length, he arose from his knees, sat- 
 isfied with the result of the examination. 
 
 “ Well, boy,” demanded the attentive scout, 
 “ what does it say ? can you make any thing of 
 the tell-tale ? ” 
 
 “ Le Renard Subtil !” 
 
 “ Ha ! that rampaging devil again ! There 
 never will be an end of his loping, till ‘ Kill-deer’ 
 has said a friendly word to him.” 
 
 Heyward reluctantly admitted the truth of 
 this intelligence, and now expressed rather his 
 hopes than his doubts by saying : 
 
 “ One moccasin is so much like another, it is 
 probable there is some mistake.” 
 
 44 One moccasin like another ! , you may as 
 well say that one foot is like another; though 
 we all know that some are long, and others short ; 
 some broad and others narrow ; some with high, 
 and some with low, insteps ; some in-toed, and 
 some out. One moccasin is no more like another* 
 than one book is like another ; though they who' 
 can read in one are seldom able to tell the marks 
 of the other. Which is all ordered for the best, 
 giving to every man his natural advantages. — Let 
 me get down to it, Uncas ; neithet book nor moc- 
 casin is the worse for halving two opinions in- 
 stead of one.” The scout stooped to the task, 
 and instantly added : “ You are right, boy ; here 
 is the patch we saw so often in the other chase 
 
ON THE TRAIL OF THE CAPTIVES. 
 
 93 
 
 A.nd the fellow will drink when he can get an op- 
 portunity : your drinking Indian always learns to 
 walk With a wider toe than the natural savage, it 
 being the gift of a drunkard to straddle, whether 
 of white or red skin. ’Tis just the length and 
 breadth too ! look at it, sagamore : you measured 
 the prints more than once, when we hunted the 
 varments from Glenn’s to the health-springs.” 
 
 Chingachgook complied; and after finishing 
 his short examination, he arose, and with a quiet 
 demeanor, he merely pronounced the word — 
 
 “ Magua ! ’* 
 
 “Ay, ’tis a settled thing; here, then, have 
 passed the dark-hair and Magua.” 
 
 “ And not Alice ? ” demanded Heyward. 
 
 : “ Of her we have not yet seen signs,” returned 
 the scout, looking closely around at the trees, the 
 bashes, and the ground. “ What have we there ? 
 — Uncas, bring hither the thing you see dangling 
 from yonder thorn-bush.” 
 
 When the Indian had complied, the scout re- 
 ceived the prize, and, holding it on high, he 
 laughed in his silent but heart-felt manner. 
 
 “ ’Tis the tooting we’pon of the singer ! now 
 we shall have a trail a priest might travel,” he 
 said. — “ Uncas, look for the marks of a shoe that 
 is long enough to uphold six feet two of tottering 
 human flesh. I begin to have some hopes of the 
 fellow, since he has given up squalling, to follow 
 some better trade.” 
 
 “ At least, he has been faithful to his trust,” 
 said Heyward ; “ and Cora and Alice are not with- 
 out a friend.” 
 
 “ Yes,” said Hawk-eye, dropping his rifle, and 
 leaning on it with an air of visible contempt, “he 
 will do their singiug ! Can he slay a buck for 
 their dinner ; journey by the moss on the beeches, 
 or cut the. throat of a Huron ? If not, the first 
 cat-bird * he meets is the cleverest of the two. 
 — Well, boy, any signs of such a foundation? ” 
 
 “ Here is something like the footstep of one 
 who has worn a shoe ; can it be that of our 
 friend ? ” 
 
 “ Touch the leaves lightly, or you’ll disconsart 
 the formation. That ! that is the print of a foot, 
 but ’tis the dark-hair’s ; and small it is, too, for 
 one of sucji a noble height and grand appearance. 
 The singer would cover it with his heel.” 
 
 “ Where ? let me look on the footsteps of my 
 
 * The powers of the American mocking-bird are gener- 
 ally known. But the true mocking-bird is not found so far 
 north as the State of 2Tew York, where it has, however, 
 two substitutes of inferior excellence; the cat-bird, so often 
 named by the scout, and the bird vulgarly called ground- 
 thresher. Either of these last two birds is superior to the 
 nightingale, or the lark, though, in general, the American 
 birds are less musical than those of Europe. 
 
 child,” said Munro, shoving the bushes *swd<J, *i?d 
 bending fondly over the nearly-obliterated im- 
 pression. Though the tread, which had left the 
 mark, had been light and rapid, it was still plainly 
 visible. The aged soldier examined it with eyes 
 that grew dim as he gazed ; POr did he rise from 
 his stooping posture until Heyward saw that he 
 had watered the trace of his daughter’s passage 
 with a scalding tear. Willing to divert a distress 
 which threatened each moment to break through 
 the restraint of appearances, by giving the veteran 
 something to do, the young man said to the 
 scout : 
 
 “ As we now possess these infallible signs, let 
 us commence our march. A moment, at such a 
 time, will appear an age to the captives.” 
 
 “ It is not the swiftest-leaping deer that gives 
 the longest chase,” returned Hawk-eye, without 
 moving his eyes from the different marks that 
 had come under his view ; “ we know that the 
 rampaging Huron has passed — and the dark-hair 
 — and the singer — but where is she of the yellow 
 locks and blue eyes ? Though little, and far 
 from being as bold as her sister, she is fair to 
 the view, and pleasant in discourse. Has she no 
 friend, that none care for her ? ” 
 
 “ God forbid that she should ever want hun- 
 dreds ! Are we not now in her pursuit ? for one, 
 I will never cease the search till she be found.” 
 
 “ In that case we may have to journey by dif- 
 ferent paths ; for here she has not passed, light 
 and little as her footstep would be ! ” 
 
 Heyward drew back, all his ardor to proceed 
 seeming to vanish on the instant. Without at- 
 tending to this sudden change in the other’s hu- 
 mor, the scout, after musing a moment, con- 
 tinued : 
 
 “ There is no woman in this wilderness could 
 leave such a print as that, but the dark-hair or 
 her sister. We know that the first has been here, 
 bu + where are the signs of the other? Let us 
 push deeper on the trail, and, if nothing offers, we 
 must go back to the plain and strike another 
 scent. — Move on, Unca3, and keep your eyes on 
 the dried leaves. I will watch the bushes, while 
 your father shall run with a low nose to the 
 ground. — Move on, friends ; the sun is getting 
 behind the hills.” 
 
 “ Is there nothing that I can do ? ” demanded 
 the anxious Heyward. 
 
 “You!” repeated the scout, who, with his 
 red friends, was already advancing in the order 
 he had prescribed ; “ yes, you can keep in our 
 rear, and be careful not to cross the trail.” 
 
 Before they had proceeded many rods, the 
 Indians stopped, and appeared to gaze at some 
 
94 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 signs on the earth with more than their usual 
 keenness. Both father and son spoke quick and 
 loud, now looking at the object of their mutual 
 admiration, and now regarding each other with 
 the most unequivocal pleasure. 
 
 “ They have found the little foot ! ” exclaimed 
 the scout, moving forward without attending fur- 
 ther to his own portion of the duty. “What 
 have we here ? An ambushment has been plant- 
 ed in the spot ! No, by the truest rifle on the 
 frontiers, here have been them one-sided horses 
 again I Now the whole secret is out, and all is 
 plain as the north-star at midnight. Yes, here 
 they have mounted. There the beasts have been 
 bound to a sapling in waiting ; and yonder runs 
 the broad path away to the north in full sweep 
 for the Canadas.” 
 
 “ But still there are no signs of Alice — of the 
 younger Miss Munro ” — said Duncan. 
 
 “ Unless the shining bawble Uncas has just 
 lifted from the ground should prove one. — Pass 
 it this way, lad, that we may look at it.” 
 
 Heyward instantly knew it for a trinket that 
 Alice was fond of wearing, and which he recol- 
 lected, with the tenacious memory , of a lover, to 
 have seen, on the fatal morning of the massacre, 
 dangling from the fair neck of his mistress. He 
 seized the highly-prized jewel; and, as he pro- 
 claimed the fact, it vanished from the eyes of the 
 wondering scout, who in vain looked for it on the 
 ground long after it was warmly pressed against 
 the beating heart of Duncan. 
 
 “ Pshaw ! ” said the disappointed Hawk-eye, 
 ceasing to rake the leaves with the breech of his 
 rifle ; “ ’tis a certain sign of age when the sight 
 begins to weaken. Such a glittering gewgaw, 
 and not to be seen ! Well, well, I can squint 
 along a clouded barrel yet, and that is enough to 
 settle all disputes between me and the Mingoes. 
 I should like to find the thing, too, if it were only 
 to carry it to the right owner, and that would be 
 bringing the two ends of what I call a long trail 
 together — for by this time the broad St. Law- 
 rence, or, perhaps, the Great Lakes themselves, 
 are atwixt us.” 
 
 “ So much the more reason why we should 
 not delay our march,” returned Heyward ; “ let 
 us proceed.” 
 
 “ Young blood and hot blood, they say, are 
 much the same thing. We are not about to start 
 on a squirrel-hunt, or to drive a deer into the 
 Horican, but to outlie for days and nights, and to 
 stretch across a wilderness where the feet of men 
 seldom go, and where no bookish knowledge 
 would carry you through harmless. An Indian 
 never starts on such an expedition without smok- 
 
 ing over his council-fire ; and, though a man oi 
 white blood, I honor their customs in this par- 
 ticular, seeing that they are deliberate and wise. 
 W e will, therefore, go back and light our fire to- 
 night in the ruins of the old fort, and in the 
 morning we shall be fresh and ready to under- 
 take our work like men, and not like babbling 
 women or eager boys.” 
 
 Heyward saw, by the manner of the scout, 
 that altercation would be useless. Munro had 
 again sunk into that sort of apathy which had 
 beset him since his late overwhelming misfor- 
 tunes, and from which he was apparently to be 
 roused only by some new and powerful excite- 
 ment. Making a merit of necessity, the young 
 man took the veteran by the arm and followed in 
 the footsteps of the Indians and the scout, who 
 had already begun to retrace the path which con- 
 ducted them to the plain. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 “ Salar . Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not 
 take his flesh ; what’s that good for ? 
 
 “ Shy. To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, 
 it will feed my revenge.” 
 
 Shakespeabe. 
 
 The shades of evening had come to increase 
 the dreariness of the place when the party entered 
 the ruins of William Henry. The scout and his 
 companions immediately made their preparations to 
 pass the night there ; but with an earnestness and 
 sobriety of demeanor that betrayed how much the 
 unusual horrors they had just witnessed worked 
 on even their practised feelings. A few frag- 
 ments of rafters were reared against a blackened 
 wall ; and when Uncas had covered them slightly 
 with brush, the temporary accommodations were 
 deemed sufficient. The young Indian pointed 
 toward his rude hut when his labor was ended ; 
 and Heyward, who understood the meaning of the 
 silent gesture, gently urged Munro to enter. 
 Leaving the bereaved old man alone with his 
 sorrows, Duncan immediately returned into the 
 open air, too much excited to seek the repose he 
 had recommended to his veteran friend. 
 
 While Hawk-eye and the Indians lighted their 
 fire and took their evening’s repast, a frugal 
 meal of dried bear’s-meat, the young man paid a 
 visit to that curtain of the dilapidated fort which 
 looked out on the sheet of the Horican. The 
 wind had fallen, and the waves were already roll- 
 ing on the sandy beach beneath him in a more 
 regular and tempered succession. The clouds, as 
 if tired of their furious chase, were breaking 
 
A NIGHT IN THE OLD FORT. 
 
 95 
 
 •sunder ; the heavier volumes gathering in black 
 masses about the horizon, while the lighter scud 
 still hurried above the water, or eddied among 
 the tops of the mountains like broken flights of 
 birds hovering around their roosts. Here and 
 there a red and fiery star struggled through the 
 drifting vapor, furnishing a lurid gleam of bright- 
 ness to the dull aspect of the heavens. Within 
 the bosom of the encircling hills an impenetrable 
 darkness had already settled ; and the plain lay 
 like a vast and deserted charnel-house, without 
 omen or whisper to disturb the slumbers of its 
 numerous and hapless tenants. 
 
 Of this scene, so chillingly in accordance with 
 the past, Duncan stood for many minutes a rapt 
 observer. His eyes wandered from the bosom of 
 the mound, where the foresters were seated around 
 their glimmering fire, to the fainter light which 
 still lingered in the skies, and then rested long 
 and anxiously on the embodied gloom which lay 
 like a dreary void on that side of him where the 
 dead reposed. He soon fancied that inexplicable 
 sounds arose from the place, though so indistinct 
 and stolen as to render not only their nature but 
 even their existence uncertain. Ashamed of his 
 apprehensions, the young man turned toward the 
 water, and strove to divert his attention to the 
 mimic stars that dimly glimmered on its moving 
 surface. Still, his too conscious ear3 performed 
 their ungrateful duty, as if to warn him of some 
 lurking danger. At length a swift trampling 
 seemed, quite audibly, to rush athwart the dark- 
 ness. Unable any longer to quiet his uneasiness, 
 Duncan spoke in a low voice to the scout, re- 
 questing him to ascend the mound to the place 
 where he stood. Hawk-eye threw his rifle across 
 an arm and corqplied, but with an air so unmoved 
 and calm as to prove how much he counted on 
 the security of their position. 
 
 “ Listen,” said Duncan, when the other 
 placed himself deliberately at his elbow ; “ there 
 are suppressed noises on the plain which may 
 show that Montcalm has not yet entirely deserted 
 his conquest.” 
 
 “ Then ears are better than eyes,” said the 
 undisturbed scout, who, having just deposited a 
 portion of a bear between his grinders, spoke 
 thick and slow, like one whose mouth was doubly 
 occupied. “ I, myself, saw him caged in Ty with 
 all his host ; for your Frenchers, when they have 
 done a clever thing, like to get back and have a 
 dance or a merry-making with the women over 
 their success.” 
 
 “I know not. An Indian seldom sleeps in 
 war, and plunder may keep a Huron here, after 
 his tribe has departed. It would be well to ex- 
 22 
 
 tinguish the fire, and have a watch. — Listen ! you 
 hear the noise I mean ? ” 
 
 “ An Indian more rarely lurks about the graves. 
 Though ready to slay, and not over-regardful of 
 the means, he is commonly content with the scalp, 
 unless when blood is hot, and temper up ; but af- 
 ter the spirit is once fairly gone, he forgets his 
 enmity, and is willing to let the dead find their 
 natural rest. Speaking of spirits, major, are you 
 of opinion that the heaven of a red-skin and of 
 us whites will be one and the same ? ” 
 
 “ No doubt — no doubt. I thought I heard it 
 again ! or was it the rustling of the leaves in the 
 top of the beech ? ” 
 
 “For my own part,” continued Hawk-eye, 
 turning his face, for a moment, in the direction 
 indicated by Heyward, but with a vacant and 
 careless manner, “I believe that paradise is or- 
 dained for happiness; and that men will be in- 
 dulged in it according to their dispositions and 
 gifts. I therefore judge that a red-skin is not far 
 from the truth when he believes he is to find them 
 glorious hunting-grounds of which his traditions 
 tell ; nor, for that matter, do I think it would be 
 any disparagement to a man without a cross to 
 pass his time — ” 
 
 “ You hear it again ? ” interrupted Duncan. 
 
 “ Ay, ay ; when food is scarce, and when food 
 is plenty, a wolf grows bold,” said the unmoved 
 scout. “ There would be picking, too, among the 
 skins of the devils, if there was light and time 
 for the sport. But, concerning the life that is to 
 come, major; I have heard preachers say, in the 
 settlements, that heaven was a place of rest. Now 
 men’s minds differ as to their ideas of enjoyment. 
 For myself, and I say it with reverence to the 
 ordering of Providence, it would be no great in- 
 dulgence to be kept shut up in those mansions of 
 which they preach, having a natural longing for 
 motion and the chase.” 
 
 Duncan, who was now made to understand 
 the nature of the noises he had heard, answered, 
 with more attention to the subject which the hu- 
 mor of the scout had chosen for discussion, by 
 saying — 
 
 “ It is difficult to account for the feelings that 
 may attend the last great change.” 
 
 “ It would be a change, indeed, for a man who 
 has passed his days in the open air,” returned the 
 single-minded scout ; “ and who has so often bro- 
 ken his fast on the head-waters of the Hudson, 
 to sleep within sound of the roaring Mohawk. 
 But it is a comfort to know we serve a merciful 
 Master, though we do it each after his fashion, 
 and with great tracts of wilderness atween us.— • 
 What goes there ? ” 
 
96 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “ Is it not the rushing of the wolves you have 
 mentioned ? ” 
 
 Hawk-eye slowly shook his head, and beck- 
 oned for Duncan to follow him to a spot, to which 
 the glare from the fire did not extend. When he 
 had taken this precaution, the scout placed him- 
 self in an attitude of intense attention, and lis- 
 tened long and- keenly for a repetition of the low 
 sound that had so unexpectedly startled him. 
 His vigilance, however, seemed exercised in vain ; 
 for, after a fruitless pause, he whispered to Dun- 
 can : 
 
 “We must give a call to Uncas. The boy has 
 Indian senses, and may hear what is hid from 
 us ; for, being a white-skin, I will not deny my 
 nature.” 
 
 The young Mohican, who was conversing in a 
 low voice with his father, started as he heard the 
 moaning of an owl, and, springing on his feet, he 
 looked toward the black mounds, as if seeking the 
 place whence the sounds proceeded. The scout 
 repeated the call, and in a few moments Duncan 
 saw the figure of Uncas stealing cautiously along 
 the rampart, to the spot where they stood. 
 
 Hawk-eye explained his wishes in a very few 
 words, which were spoken in the Delaware tongue. 
 So soon as Uncas was in possession of the reason 
 why he was summoned, he threw himself fiat on 
 the turf ; where, to the eyes of Duncan, he ap- 
 peared to lie quiet and motionless. Surprised at 
 the immovable attitude of the young warrior, and 
 curious to observe the manner in which he em- 
 ployed his faculties to obtain the desired infor- 
 mation, Heyward advanced a few steps, and 
 bent over the dark object, on which he had kept 
 his eyes riveted. Then it was he discovered that 
 the form of Uncas had vanished, and that he be- 
 held only the dark outline of an inequality in the 
 embankment. 
 
 “ What has become of the Mohican ? ” he de- 
 manded of the scout, stepping back in amaze- 
 ment ; “ it was here that I saw him fall, and I 
 could have sworn that here he yet remained.” 
 
 “ Hist ! speak lower ; for we know not what 
 ears are open, and the Mingoes are a quick-witted 
 breed. As for Uncas, he is out on the plain, and 
 the Maquas, if any such are about us, will find 
 their equal.” 
 
 “You think that Montcalm has not called off 
 all his Indians ? Let us give the alarm to our com- 
 panions, that we may stand to our arms. Here 
 are five of us, who are not unused to meet an ene- 
 my.” 
 
 “ Not a word to either, as you value life ! Look 
 at the sagamore, how like a grand Indian chief 
 he sits by the fire. If there are any skulkers out 
 
 in the darkness, they will never discover, by hie 
 countenance, that we suspect; danger at hand.’ 
 
 “ But they may discover him, and it will prove 
 his death. His person can be too plainly seen 
 by the light of that fire, and he will become the 
 first and most certain victim.” 
 
 “ It is undeniable that now you speak the 
 truth,” returned the scout, betraying more anx- 
 iety than was usual; “yet what can be done? 
 A single suspicious look might bring on an attack 
 before we are ready to receive it. He knows, by 
 the call I gave to Uncas, that we have struck a 
 scent ; I will tell him that we are on the trail of 
 the Mingoes: his Indian nature will teach him 
 how to act” 
 
 The scout applied his fingers to his mouth, 
 and raised a low hissing sound, that caused Dun- 
 can, at first, to start aside, believing that he heard 
 a serpent. The head of Chingachgook was rest- 
 ing on a hand, as he sat musing by himself ; but 
 the moment he heard the warning of the animal 
 whose name he bore, it arose to an upright po- 
 sition, and his dark eyes glanced swiftly and keen- 
 ly on every side of him. With this sudden and 
 perhaps involuntary movement, every appearance 
 of surprise or alarm ended. His rifle lay un- 
 touched, and apparently unnoticed, within reach 
 of his hand. The tomahawk that he had loos- 
 ened in his belt for the sake of ease, was even suf- 
 fered to fall from its usual situation to the ground, 
 and his form seemed to sink, like that of a max 
 whose nerves and sinews were suffered to relax 
 for the purpose of rest. Cunningly resuming his 
 former position, though with a change of hands, 
 as if the movement had been made merely to re- 
 lieve the limb, the native awaited the result with 
 a calmness and fortitude that none but an Indian 
 warrior would have known how to exercise. 
 
 But Heyward saw, that while to a less instruct- 
 ed eye the Mohican chief appeared to slumbei, 
 his nostrils were expanded, his head was turnec. 
 a little to one side, as if to assist the organs of 
 hearing, and that his quick and rapid glances ran 
 incessantly over every object, within the power 
 of his vision. 
 
 “ See the noble fellow ! ” whispered Hawk-eye, 
 pressing the arm of Heyward; “he knows that a 
 look or a motion might disconsart our schemes, 
 and put us at the mercy of them imps — ” 
 
 He was interrupted by the flash and report of 
 a rifle. The air was filled with sparks of fire, 
 around that spot where the eyes of Heyward were 
 still fastened with admiration and wonder. A 
 second look told him that Chingachgook had dis- 
 appeared in the confusion. In the mean time, the 
 scout had thrown forward his rifle, like one pre- 
 
DEATH OF AN ONEIDA SPY. 
 
 97 
 
 pared for service, and awaited impatiently the 
 moment when ah enemy might rise to view. But 
 with the solitary and fruitless attempt made on 
 the life of Chingachgook, the attack appeared to 
 have terminated. Once or twice the listeners 
 thought they could distinguish the distant rus- 
 tling of bushes, as bodies of some unknown de- 
 scription rushed through them ; nor was it long 
 before Hawk-eye pointed out the “ scampering of 
 the wolves,” as they fled precipitately before the 
 passage of some intruder on their proper domains. 
 After an impatient and breathless pause, a plunge 
 was heard in the water, and it was immediately 
 followed by the report of another rifle. 
 
 “ There goes Uncas ! ” said the scout ; “ the 
 boy bears a smart piece ! I know its crack, as 
 well as a father knows the language of his child, 
 for I carried the gun myself until abetter offered.” 
 
 “ What can this mean ? ” demanded Duncan ; 
 '* we are watched, and, as it would seem, marked 
 for destruction.” 
 
 “Yonder scattered brand can witness that no 
 good was intended, and this Indian will testify 
 that no harm has been done,” returned the scout, 
 dropping his rifle across his arm again, and fol- 
 lowing Chingachgook, who just then reappeared 
 within the circle of light, into the bosom of the 
 works. “ How is it, sagamore ? Are the Min- 
 goes upon us in earnest, or is it only one of those 
 reptiles who hang upon the skirts of a war-party, 
 to scalp the dead, go in, and make their boast 
 among the squaws of the valiant deeds done on 
 the pale-faces ? ” 
 
 Chingachgook very quietly resumed his seat ; 
 nor did he make any reply, until after he had ex- 
 amined the firebrand which had been struck by 
 the bullet, that had nearly proved fatal to him- 
 self. After which, he was content to reply, hold- 
 ing a single finger up to view, with the English 
 monosyllable — 
 
 “ One.” 
 
 “ I thought as much,” returned Hawk-eye, 
 seating himself ; “ and as he had got the cover 
 of the lake afore Uncas pulled upon him, it is 
 more than probable the knave will sing his lies 
 about some great ambushment, in which he was 
 outlying on the trail of two Mohicans and a white 
 hunter — for the officers can be considered as little 
 better than idlers in such a scrimmage. Well, let 
 him — let him. There are always some honest men 
 in every nation, though Heaven knows, too, that 
 they are scarce among the Maquas, to look down 
 an upstart when he brags ag’in the face of reason. 
 The varlet sent his lead within whistle of your 
 ears, sagamore.” 
 
 Chingachgook turned a calm and incurious 
 7 
 
 eye toward the place where the ball had struck, 
 and then resumed his former attitude, with a com- 
 posure that could not be disturbed by so trifling 
 an incident. J ust then Uncas glided into the cir- 
 cle, and seated himself at the fire, with the same 
 appearance of indifference as was maintained by 
 his father. 
 
 Of these several movements Heyward was a 
 deeply-interested and wondering observer. It ap- 
 peared to him as though the foresters had some 
 secret means of intelligence, which had escaped 
 the vigilance of his own faculties. In place of 
 that eager and garrulous narration with which a 
 white youth would have endeavored to commu- 
 nicate, and perhaps exaggerate, that which had 
 passed out in the darkness of the plain, the young 
 warrior was seemingly content to let his deeds 
 speak for themselves. It was, in fact, neither the 
 moment nor the occasion for an Indian to boast 
 of his exploits ; and it is probable that, had Hey- 
 ward neglected to inquire, not another syllable 
 would, just then, have been uttered on the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 “ What has become of our enemy, Uncas ? ” 
 demanded Duncan ; “ we heard your rifle, and 
 hoped you had not fired in vain.” 
 
 The young chief removed a fold of his hunting- 
 shirt, and quietly exposed the fatal tuft of hair, 
 which he bore as the symbol of victory. Chip- 
 gachgook laid his hand on the scalp, and consid- 
 ered it for a moment with deep attention. Then 
 dropping it, with disgust depicted in his strong 
 features, he ejaculated — 
 
 “ Oneida ! ” 
 
 “ Oneida ! ” repeated the scout, who was fast 
 losing his interest in the scene, in an apathy near- 
 ly assimilated to that of his red associates, but 
 who now advanced with uncommon earnestness 
 to regard the bloody badge. “By the Lord, 
 if the Oneidas are outlying upon the trail, we 
 shall be flanked by devils on every side of us ! 
 Now, to white eyes there is no difference between 
 this bit of skin and that of any other Indian, and 
 yet the sagamore declares it came from the poll 
 of a Mingo ; nay, he even names, the tribe of the 
 poor devil with as much ease as if the scalp was the 
 leaf cf a book, and each hair a letter. What right 
 have Christian whites to boast of their learning, 
 when a savage can read a language that would 
 prove too much for the wisest of them all ? — What 
 say you , lad ; of what people was the. knave ? ” 
 
 Uncas raised his eyes to the face of the scout, 
 and answered, in his soft voice — 
 
 “ Oneida.” 
 
 “ Oneida, again ! when one Indian inanes a 
 declaration, it is commonly true ; but when 
 
98 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 is supported by his people, set it down as gos- 
 pel ! ” 
 
 “ The poor fellow has mistaken us for French,” 
 said Heyward ; “ or he would not have attempted 
 the life of a friend.” 
 
 “ He mistake a Mohican in his paint for a 
 Huron ! You would be as likely to mistake the 
 white-coated grenadiers of Montcalm for the scar- 
 let jackets of the ‘ Royal Americans,’ ” returned 
 the scout. “ No, no, the sarpent knew his errand ; 
 nor was there any great mistake in the matter, 
 for there is but little love between a Delaware and 
 a Mingo, let their tribes go out to fight for whom 
 they may, in a white quarrel. For that matter, 
 though the Oneidas do serve his sacred majesty, 
 who is my own sovereign lord and master, I should 
 not have deliberated long about letting off ‘ Kill- 
 deer ’ at the imp myself, had luck thrown him in 
 my way.” 
 
 « That would have been an abuse of our trea- 
 ties, and unworthy of your character.” 
 
 “ When a man consorts much with a people,” 
 continued Hawk-eye, “ if they are honest and he 
 no knave, love will grow up atwixt them. It is 
 true that white cunning has managed to throw 
 the tribes into great confusion, as respects friends 
 and enemies ; so that the Hurons and Oneidas, 
 who speak the same tongue, or what may be called 
 the same, take each other’s scalps, and the Dela- 
 wares are divided among themselves ; a few hang- 
 ing about their great council-fire on their own 
 river, and fighting on the same side with the Min- 
 goes, while the greater part are in the Canadas, 
 out of natural enmity to the Maquas— thus throw- 
 ing every thing into disorder and destroying all 
 the harmony of warfare. Yet a red natur’ is not 
 fikely to alter with every shift of policy ; so that 
 the love atwixt a Mohican and a Mingo is much 
 like the regard between a white man and a sar- 
 pent.” 
 
 “ I regret to hear it ; for I had believed those 
 natives who dwelt within our boundaries had found 
 us too just and liberal, not to identify themselves 
 fully with our quarrels.” 
 
 “ Why, I believe it is natur’ to give a prefer- 
 ence to one’s own quarrels before those of stran- 
 gers. Now, for myself, I do love justice; and 
 therefore I will not say I hate a Mingo — for that 
 may be unsuitable to my color and my religion — 
 though I will just repeat, that it may have been 
 owing to the night that ‘ Kill-deer ’ had no hand 
 In the death of this skulking Oneida.” 
 
 Then, as if satisfied with the force of his own 
 reasons, whatever might be the effect on the 
 opinions of the other disputant, the honest but 
 implacable woodsman turned from the fire, con- 
 
 tent to let the controversy slumber. Heyward 
 withdrew to the rampart, too uneasy and too little 
 accustomed to the warfare of the woods, to re- 
 main at ease under the possibility of such insidi- 
 ous attacks. Not so, however, with the scout 
 and the Mohicans. Those acute and long-prac- 
 tised senses, whose powers so often exceeded the 
 limits of all ordinary credulity, after having de- 
 tected the danger, had enabled them to ascertain 
 its magnitude and duration. Not one of the 
 three appeared in the least to doubt their perfect 
 security, as was indicated by the preparations 
 that were soon made to sit in council over their 
 future proceedings. 
 
 The confusion of nations, and even of tribes, 
 to which Hawk-eye alluded, existed at that period 
 in the fullest force. The great tie of language, 
 and, of course, of a common origin, was severed 
 in many places ; and it was one of its conse- 
 quences, that the Delaware and the Mingo (as the 
 people of the Six Nations were called) were found 
 fighting in the same ranks, while the latter sought 
 the scalp of the Huron, though believed to be the 
 root of his own stock. The Delawares were even 
 divided among themselves. Though love for the 
 soil which had belonged to his ancestors kept the 
 sagamore of the Mohicans with a small band of 
 followers who were serving at Edward, under the 
 banners of the English king, by far the largest 
 portion of his nation were known to be in the 
 field as allies of Montcalm. The reader probably 
 knows, if enough has not already been gleaned 
 from this narrative, that the Delaware, or Lenape, 
 claimed to be the progenitors of that numerous 
 people, who once were masters of most of the 
 Eastern and Northern States of America, of whom 
 the community of the Mohicans was an ancient 
 and highly-honored member. 
 
 It was, of course, with a perfect understand- 
 ing of the minute and intricate interests which 
 had armed friend against friend, and brought 
 natural enemies to combat by each other’s side, 
 that the scout and his companions now disposed 
 themselves to deliberate on the measures that 
 were to govern their future movements, amid so 
 many jarring and savage races of men. Duncan 
 knew enough of Indian customs to understand 
 the reason that the fire was replenished, and why 
 the warriors, not excepting Hawk-eye, took 
 their seats within the curl of its smoke with so 
 much gravity and decorum. Placing himself at 
 an angle of the works, where he might be a spec- 
 tator of the scene within, while he kept a watch- 
 ful eye against any danger from without, he 
 awaited the result with as much patience as he 
 could summon. 
 
UNCAS AND HIS FATHER. 
 
 99 
 
 After a short and impressive pause, Chingach- 
 gook lighted a pipe whose bowl was curiously 
 carved in one of the soft stones of the country ? 
 and whose stem was a tube of wood, and com- 
 menced smoking. When he had inhaled enough 
 of the fragrance of the soothing weed, he passed 
 the instrument into the hands of the scout. In 
 this manner the pipe had made its rounds three 
 several times, amid the most profound silence, 
 before either of the party opened his lips. Then 
 the sagamore, as the oldest and highest in rank, 
 in a few calm and dignified words, proposed the 
 subject for deliberation. He was answered by 
 the scout ; and Chingachgook rejoined, when the 
 other objected to his opinions. But the youth- 
 ful Uncas continued a silent and respectful listen- 
 er, until Hawk-eye in complaisance demanded his 
 opinion. Heyward gathered from the manners 
 of the different speakers, that the father and 
 son espoused one side of a disputed question, 
 while the white man maintained the other. The 
 contest gradually grew warmer until it was quite 
 evident the feelings of the speakers began to be 
 somewhat enlisted in the debate. 
 
 Notwithstanding the increasing warmth of 
 the amicable contest, the most decorous Chris- 
 tian assembly, not even excepting those in which 
 its reverend ministers are collected, might have 
 learned a wholesome lesson of moderation from 
 the forbearance and courtesy of the disputants 
 The words of Uncas were received with the same 
 deep attention as those which fell from the ma- 
 turer wisdom of his father; and, so far from 
 manifesting any impatience, neither spoke in re- 
 ply, until a few moments of silent meditation were, 
 seemingly, bestowed in deliberating on what had 
 already been said. 
 
 The language of the Mohicans was accom- 
 panied by gestures so direct and natural, that 
 Heyward had but little difficulty in following the 
 thread of their argument. On the other hand, 
 the scout was obscure ; because, from the linger- 
 ing pride of color, he rather affected the cold and 
 artificial manner which characterizes all classes 
 of Anglo-Americans, when unexcited. By the 
 frequency with which the Indians described the 
 marks of a forest-trail, it was evident they urged 
 a pursuit by land, while the repeated sweep of 
 Hawk-eye’s arm toward the Horican denoted that 
 he was for a passage across its waters. 
 
 The latter was, to every appearance, fast losing 
 ground, and the point was about to be decided 
 against him, when he arose to his feet, and shak- 
 ing off his apathy, he suddenly assumed the man- 
 ner of an Indian, and adopted all the arts of na- 
 tive eloquence. Elevating an arm, he pointed 
 
 out the track of the sun, repeating the gesture 
 for every day that was necessary to accomplish 
 their object. Then he delineated a long and pain 
 ful path, amid rocks and water-courses. The age 
 and weakness of the slumbering and unconscious 
 Munro were indicated by signs too palpable to be 
 mistaken. Duncan perceived that his own pow- 
 ers were spoken lightly of, as the scout extended 
 his palm, and mentioned him by the appellation 
 of the “ Open Hand ” — a name his liberality had 
 purchased of all the friendly tribes. Then came 
 a representation of the light and graceful move- 
 ments of a canoe, set in forcible contrast to the 
 tottering steps of one enfeebled and tired. He 
 concluded by pointing to the scalp of the Oneida, 
 and apparently urging the necessity of their de- 
 parting speedily, and in a manner that should 
 leave no trail. 
 
 The Mohicans listened gravely, and with 
 countenances that reflected the sentiments of the 
 speaker. Conviction gradually wrought its in- 
 fluence, and toward the close of Hawk-eye’s 
 speech, his sentences were accompanied by the 
 customary exclamation of commendation. In 
 short, Uncas and his father became converts to 
 his way of thinking, abandoning their own pre- 
 viously-expressed opinions with a liberality and 
 candor, that, had they been the representatives 
 of some great and civilized people, would have 
 infallibly worked their political ruin, by destroy- 
 ing, forever, their reputation for consistency. 
 
 The instant the matter in discussion was 
 decided, the debate, and every thing connected 
 with it, except the result, appeared to be forgot- 
 ten. Hawk-eye, without looking round to read 
 his triumph in applauding eyes, very composedly 
 stretched his tall frame before the dying embers, 
 and closed his own organs in sleep. 
 
 Left now in a measure to themselves, the Mo- 
 hicans, whose time had been so much devoted to 
 the interests of others, seized the moment to de- 
 vote some attention to themselves. Casting off, 
 at once, the grave and austere demeanor of an 
 Indian chief, Chingachgook commenced speaking 
 to his son in the soft and playful tones of affec- 
 tion. Uncas gladly met the familiar air of his 
 father; and, before the hard breathing of the 
 scout announced that he slept, a complete change 
 was effected in the manner of his two associates. 
 
 It is impossible to describe the music of their 
 language, while thus engaged in laughter and en- 
 dearments, in such a way as to render it intelli- 
 gible to those whose ears have never listened to 
 its melody. The compass of their voices, par- 
 ticularly that of the youth, was wonderful— ex- 
 tending from the deepest bass to tones that wcr« 
 
100 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 even feminine in softness. Tlie eyes of the fa- 
 ther followed the plastic and ingenious move- 
 ments of the son with open delight, and he never 
 failed to smile in reply to the other’s contagious 
 but low laughter. While under the influence of 
 these gentle and natural feelings, no trace of 
 ferocity was to be seen in the softened features of 
 the sagamore. His figured panoply of death looked 
 more like a disguise assumed in mockery, than a 
 fierce annunciation of a desire to carry destruc- 
 tion and desolation in his footsteps. 
 
 After an hour passed in the indulgence of 
 their better feelings, Chingachgook abruptly an- 
 nounced his desire to sleep, by wrapping his 
 head in his blanket, and stretching his form on 
 the naked earth. The merriment of Uncas in- 
 stantly ceased ; and carefully raking the coals in 
 such a manner that they should impart their 
 warmth to his father’s feet, the youth sought his 
 own pillow among the ruins of the place. 
 
 Imbibing renewed confidence from the securi- 
 ty of these experienced foresters, Heyward soon 
 imitated their example ; and, long before the 
 night had turned, they who lay in the bosom of 
 the ruined work seemed to slumber as heavily 
 as the unconscious multitude whose bones were 
 already beginning to bleach on the surrounding 
 plain 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 “Land of Albania! let me bend mine eyes 
 On thee, thou rugged nurse of savage men ! ” 
 Cuilde Habold. 
 
 The heavens were still studded with stars, 
 when Hawk-eye came to arouse the sleepers. 
 Casting aside their cloaks, Munro and Heyward 
 were on their feet, while the woodsman was still 
 making his low calls, at the entrance of the rude 
 shelter where they had passed the night. When 
 they issued from beneath its concealment, they 
 found the scout awaiting their appearance nigh 
 by, and the only salutation between them was the 
 significant gesture for silence, made by their sa- 
 gacious leader. 
 
 “ Think over your prayers,” he whispered, as 
 they approached him; “for He, to whom you 
 make them, knows all tongues ; that of the heart, 
 *s well as those of the mouth. But speak not a 
 syllable ; it is rare for a white voice to pitch it- 
 self properly in the woods, as we have seen by 
 the example of that miserable devil, the singer. 
 Come,” he continued, turning toward a curtain 
 df the works ; “ let us get into the ditch on this 
 
 side, and be regardful to step on the stones ana 
 fragments of wood as you go.” 
 
 His companions complied, though to two of 
 them the reasons of this extraordinary precaution 
 were yet a mystery. When they were in the low 
 cavity that surrounded the earthen fort on three 
 of its sides, they found the passage nearly choked 
 by the ruins. With care and patience, however, 
 they succeeded in clambering after the scout, un. 
 til they reached the sandy shore of the Horican. 
 
 “ That’s a trail that nothing but a nose can 
 follow,” said the satisfied scout, looking back 
 along their difficult way ; “ grass is a treacherous 
 carpet for a flying party to tread on, but wood 
 and stone take no print from a moccasin. Had 
 you worn your armed boots, there might indeed 
 have been something to fear ; but with the deer- 
 skin suitably prepared, a man may trust himself, 
 generally, on rocks with Safety. — Shove in the 
 canoe nigher to the land, Uncas ; this sand will 
 take a stamp as easily as the butter of the Jar- 
 mans on the Mohawk. Softly, lad, softly ; it 
 must not touch the beach, or the knaves will 
 know by what road we have left the place.” 
 
 The young man observed the precaution ; and 
 the scout, laying a board from the ruins to the 
 canoe, made a sign for the two officers to enter. 
 When this was done, every thing was studiously 
 restored to its former disorder ; and then Hawk- 
 eye succeeded in reaching his little birchen ves- 
 sel, without leaving behind him any of those 
 marks which he appeared so much to dread. 
 Heyward was silent, until the Indians had cau- 
 tiously paddled the canoe some distance from tho 
 fort, and within the broad and dark shadow that 
 fell from the eastern mountain on the glassy sur- 
 face of the lake ; then he demanded : 
 
 “ What need have we for this stolen and hur- 
 ried departure ? ’’ 
 
 “ If the blood of an Oneida could stain such 
 a sheet of pure water as this we float on,” re- 
 turned the scout, “ your two eyes would answer 
 your own question. Have you forgotten the 
 skulking reptyle that Uncas slew ? ” 
 
 “ By no means. But he was said to be alone, 
 and dead men give no cause for fear.” 
 
 “ Ay, he was alone in his deviltry ! but an 
 Indian, whose tribe counts so many warriors, 
 need seldom fear his blood will run, without the 
 death-shriek coming speedily from some of his 
 enemies.” 
 
 “ But our presence — the authority of Colonel 
 Munro would prove a sufficient protection against 
 the anger of our allies, especially in a case where 
 the wretch so well merited his fate. I trust in 
 Heaven you have not deviated a single foot from 
 
A PERILOUS JOURNEY. 
 
 101 
 
 toe direct line of our course, with so slight a rea- 
 son. ” 
 
 •* Do you think the bullet of that varlet’s rifle 
 would have turned aside, though his sacred ma- 
 jesty the king had stood in its path ? ” returned 
 the stubborn scout. “ Why did not the grand 
 Frencher, he who is Captain-General of the Cana- 
 das, bury the tomahawks of the Hurons, if a word 
 from a white can work so strongly on the natur’ 
 of an Indian ? ” 
 
 The reply of Heyward was interrupted by a 
 groan from Munro ; but, after he had paused a 
 moment, in deference to the sorrow of his aged 
 friend, he resumed the subject. 
 
 “ The Marquis of Montcalm can only settle 
 that error with his God,” said the young man, 
 solemnly. 
 
 “ Ay, ay, now there is reason in your words, 
 for they are bottomed on religion and honesty. 
 There is a vast difference between throwing a 
 regiment of white-coats atwixt the tribes and the 
 prisoners, and coaxing an angry savage to forget 
 he carries a knife and a rifle, with words that 
 must begin with calling him 1 your son.’ No, no,” 
 continued the scout, looking back at the dim 
 shore of William Henry, which was now fast re- 
 ceding, and laughing in his own silent but heart- 
 felt manner ; “ I have put a trail of water atween 
 us ; and unless the imp3 can make friends with 
 the fishes, and hear who has paddled across their 
 basin, this fine morning, we shall throw the length 
 of the Horican behind us, before they have made 
 up their minds which path to take.” 
 
 “ With foes in front, and foes in our rear, our 
 journey is like to be one of danger.” 
 
 “ Danger ! ” repeated Hawk-eye, calmly ; “ no, 
 not absolutely of danger ; for, with vigilant ears 
 and quick eyes, we can manage to keep a few 
 hours ahead of the knaves ; or, if we must try 
 the rifle, there are three of us who understand its 
 gifts as well as any you can name on the borders. 
 No, not of danger ; but that we shall have what 
 you may call a brisk push of it, is probable ; and 
 it may happen, a brush, a scrimmage, or some 
 such divarsion, but always where covers are good, 
 and ammunition abundant.” 
 
 It is possible that Heyward’s estimate of dan- 
 ger differed in some degree from that of the scout, 
 for, instead of replying, he now sat in silence, 
 while the canoe glided over several miles of water. 
 Just as the day dawned, they entered the narrows 
 of the lake,* and stole swiftly and cautiously 
 
 ♦ The beauties of Lake George are well known to every 
 American tourist. In the height of the mountains which 
 surround it, and in artificial accessories, it is inferior to the 
 finest of the Swiss and Italian lakes, while in outline and 
 
 . among their numberless little islands. It was by 
 this road that Montcalm had retired with his ar- 
 my, and the adventurers knew not but he had 
 left some of his Indians in ambush, to protect the 
 rear of his forces, and collect the stragglers. 
 They, therefore, approached the passage with the 
 , customary silence of their gilarded habits. 
 
 Chingachgook laid aside his paddle ; while 
 Uncas and the scout urged the light vessel through 
 crooked and intricate channels, where every foot 
 that they advanced exposed them to the danger 
 of some sudden rising on their progress The 
 eyes of the sagamore moved warily from islet to 
 islet, and copse to copse, as the canoe proceeded ; 
 and, when a clearer sheet of water permitted, his 
 keen vision was bent along the bald rocks and 
 impending forests that frowned upon the narrow 
 strait. 
 
 Heyward, who was a doubly-interested spec- 
 tator, as well from the beauties of the place as 
 from the apprehension natural to his situation, 
 was just believing that he had permitted the lat- 
 ter to be excited without sufficient reason, when 
 the paddle ceased moving, in obedience to a sig- 
 nal from Chingachgook. 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” exclaimed Uncas, nearly at the mo- 
 ment that the light tap his father had made on 
 the side of the canoe notified them of the vicinity 
 of danger. 
 
 “ What now? ” asked the scout; the lake is 
 as smooth as if the winds had never blown, and I 
 can see along its sheet for miles ; there is not so 
 much as the black head of a loon dotting the 
 water.” 
 
 The Indian gravely , raised his paddle, and 
 pointed in the direction in which his own steady 
 look was riveted. Duncan’s eyes followed the 
 motion. A few rods in their front lay another of 
 the low-wooded islets, but it appeared as calm 
 and peaceful as if its solitude had never been dis- 
 turbed by the foot of man. 
 
 purity of water it is fully their equal ; and in the number 
 and disposition of its isles and islets much superior to them 
 all together. There are said to be some hundreds of islands 
 in a sheet of water less than thirty miles long. The nar- 
 rows which connect what may be called, in truth, two 
 lakes, are crowded with islands to such a degree as to leave 
 passages between th6m, frequently of only a few feet in 
 width. The lake, itself; varies in breadth from one to three 
 miles. 
 
 The State of New York is remarkable for the number 
 and beauty of its lakes. One of its frontiers lies on the vast 
 sheet of Ontario, while Champlain stretches nearly a hun- 
 dred miles along another. Oneida, Cayuga, Canandaigua, 
 Seneca, and George, are all lakes of thirty miles in length, 
 while those of a size smaller are without number. On 
 most of these lakes, there are now beautiful villages, and on 
 many of them steamboats. 
 
102 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “ I see nothing,” he said, “ but land and wa- 
 ter ; and a lovely scene it is.” 
 
 “ Hist ! ” interrupted the scout.— “ Ay, saga- 
 more, there is always a reason for what you do. 
 ’Tis but a shade, and yet it is not natural.— You 
 see the mist, major, that is rising above the 
 island ; you can’t call it a fog, for it is more like 
 a streak of thin cloud — ” 
 
 “ It is vapor from the water.” 
 
 “That a child could tell. But what is the 
 edging of blacker smoke that hangs along its 
 lower side, and which you may trace down into 
 the thicket of hazel? ’Tis from a fire; but one 
 that, in my judgment, has been suffered to burn 
 low.” 
 
 « Let us then push for the place, and relieve 
 our doubts,” said the impatient Duncan ; “ the 
 party must be small that can lie on such a bit of 
 land.” 
 
 « If you judge of Indian cunning by the rules 
 you find in books, or by white sagacity, they will 
 lead you astray, if not to your death,” returned 
 Hawk-eye, examining the signs of the place with 
 that acuteness which distinguished him. “ If I 
 may be permitted to speak in this matter, it will 
 be to say that we have but two things to choose 
 between : the one is, to return, and give up all 
 thoughts of following the Hurons — ” 
 
 “ Never ! ” exclaimed Heyward, in a voice far 
 too loud for their circumstances. 
 
 “Well, well,” continued Hawk-eye, making a 
 hasty sign to repress his impatience, “ I am much 
 of your mind myself; though I thought it becom- 
 ing my experience to tell the whole. W e must 
 then make a push, and if the Indians or Frenchers 
 are in the narrows, run the gantlet through 
 these toppling mountains. — Is there reason in my 
 words, sagamore ? ” 
 
 The Indian made no further answer than by 
 dropping his paddle into the water, and urging 
 forward the canoe. As he held the office of di- 
 recting its course, his resolution was sufficiently 
 indicated by the movement. The whole party 
 now plied their paddles vigorously, and in a \*ery 
 few moments they had reached a point whence 
 they might command an entire view of the north- 
 ern shore of the island, the side that had hitherto 
 been concealed. 
 
 “ There they are, by all the truth of signs,” 
 whispered the scout ; “ two canoes and a smoke. 
 The knaves haven’t yet got their eyes out of the 
 mist, or we should hear the accursed whoop. 
 Together, friends— we are leaving them, and are 
 ilready nearly out of whistle of a bullet.” 
 
 The well-known crack of a rifle, whose ball 
 came skipping along the placid surface of the 
 
 strait, and a shrill yell from the island, interrupted 
 his speech, and announced that their passage was 
 discovered. In another instant several savages 
 were seen rushing into the canoes, which were 
 soon dancing over the water in pursuit. These 
 fearful precursors of a coming struggle produced 
 no change in the countenances and movements of 
 his three guides, so far as Duncan could discover, 
 except that the strokes of their paddles were 
 longer and more in unison, and caused the little 
 bark to spring forward like a creature possessing 
 life and volition. 
 
 “ Hold them there, sagamore,” said Hawk- 
 eye, looking coolly backward over his left shoul- 
 der, while he still plied his paddle ; “ keep them 
 just there. Them Hurons have never a piece in 
 their nation that will execute at this distance ; 
 but ‘ Kill-deer ’ has a barrel on which a man may 
 calculate.” 
 
 The scout, having ascertained that the Mohi- 
 cans were sufficient of themselves to maintain the 
 requisite distance, deliberately laid aside his pad- 
 dle, and raised the fatal rifle. Three several times 
 he brought the piece to his shoulder, and when 
 his companions were expecting its report, he as 
 oftened lowered it to request the Indians would 
 permit their enemies to approach a little nigher. 
 At length his accurate and fastidious eye seemed 
 satisfied, and throwing out his left arm on the 
 barrel, he was slowly elevating the muzzle, when 
 an exclamation from Uncas, who sat in the bow, 
 once more caused him to suspend the shot. 
 
 “ What now, lad ? ” demanded Hawk-eye ; 
 “you saved a Huron from the death-shriek by 
 that word ; have you reason for what you do ? ” 
 
 Uncas pointed toward the rocky shore a little 
 in their front, whence another war-canoe was 
 darting directly across their course. It was 
 too obvious now that their situation was immi- 
 nently perilous, to need the aid of language to 
 confirm it. The scout laid aside his rifle, and 
 resumed the paddle, while Chingachgook inclined 
 the bows of the canoe a little toward the western 
 shore, in order to increase the distance between 
 them and this new enemy. In the mean time they 
 were reminded of the presence of those who 
 pressed on their rear, by wild and exulting shouts. 
 The stirring scene awakened even Munro from 
 his apathy. 
 
 « Let us make for the rocks on the main,” he 
 said, with the mien of a tried soldier, “ and give 
 battle to the savages. God forbid that I, or those 
 attached to me or mine, should ever trust again 
 to the faith of any servant of the Louises ! ” 
 
 “ He who wishes to prosper in Indian war- 
 fare,” returned the scout, “ must not be too proud 
 
AN UNSUCCESSFUL ATTACK. 
 
 103 
 
 to learn from the wit of a native. Lay her more 
 along the land, sagamore ; we are doubling on 
 the varlets, and perhaps they may try to strike 
 our trail on the long calculation.” 
 
 Hawk-eye was not mistaken ; for, when the 
 Hurons found that their course was likely to throw 
 them behind their chase, they rendered it less 
 direct, until, by gradually bearing more and more 
 obliquely, the two canoes were, ere long, gliding 
 on parallel lines, within two hundred yards of 
 each other. It now became entirely a trial of 
 speed. So rapid was the progress of the light 
 vossels, that the lake curled in their front, in min- 
 iature waves, and their motion became undulating 
 by its own velocity. It was, perhaps, owing to 
 this circumstance, in addition to the necessity of 
 keeping every hand employed at the paddles, that 
 the Hurons had not immediate recourse to their 
 fire-arms. The exertions of the fugitives were 
 too severe to continue long, and the pursuers had 
 the advantage of numbers. Duncan observed, 
 with uneasiness, that the scout began to look 
 anxiously about him, as if searching for some fur- 
 ther means of assisting their flight. 
 
 “ Edge her a little more from the sun, saga- 
 more,” said the stubborn woodsman ; “ I see the 
 knaves are sparing a man to the rifle. A single 
 broken bone might lose us our scalps. Edge 
 more from the sun, and we will put the island 
 between us.” 
 
 The expedient was not without its use. A 
 long, low island lay at a little distance before 
 them, and, as they closed with it, the chasing 
 eanoe was compelled to take a side opposite to 
 that on which the pursued passed. The scout 
 and his companions did not neglect this advantage, 
 but the instant they were hid from observation by 
 the bushes, they redoubled efforts that before 
 had seemed prodigious. The two canoes came 
 round the last low point, like two coursers at the 
 top of their speed, the fugitives taking the lead. 
 This change had brought them nigher to each 
 other, however, while it altered their relative posi- 
 tions. 
 
 “ You showed knowledge in the shaping of 
 birchen bark, Uncas, when you chose this from 
 among the Huron canoes,” said the scout, smil- 
 ing, apparently more in satisfaction at their superi- 
 ority in the race, than from that prospect of final 
 escape which now began to open a little upon them. 
 “ The imps have put all their strength again at 
 the paddles, and we are to struggle for our scalps 
 with bits of flattened wood, instead of clouded 
 barrels and true eyes. — A long stroke, and to- 
 gether, friends ! ” 
 
 “ They are preparing for a shot,” said Hey- 
 
 ward ; “ and, as we are in a line with them, it can 
 scarcely fail.” 
 
 “ Get you then into the bottom of the canoe,” 
 returned the scout — “ you and the colonel ; it will 
 be so much taken from the size of the mark.” 
 
 Heyward smiled, as he answered : 
 
 “ It would be but an ill example for the high- 
 est in rank to dodge, while the warriors were 
 under fire ! ” 
 
 “Lord! Lord! that is now a white man’s 
 courage ! ” exclaimed the scout ; “ and, like too 
 many of his notions, not to be maintained by rea- 
 son. Do you think the sagamore, or Uncas, or 
 even I, who am a man without a cross, would de- 
 liberate about finding a cover in the scrimmage, 
 when an open body would do no good? For 
 what have the Frenc’ners reared up their Quebec, 
 if fighting is always to be done in the clearings ? ” 
 
 “ All that you say is very true, my friend,” 
 replied Heyward ; “ still, our customs must pre- 
 vent us from doing as you wish.” 
 
 A volley from the Hurons interrupted the dis- 
 course, and, as the bullets whistled about them, 
 Duncan saw the head of Uncas turned, looking 
 back at himself and Munro. Notwithstanding 
 the nearness of the enemy, and his own great per- 
 sonal danger, the countenance of the young war- 
 rior expressed no other emotion, as the former 
 was compelled to think, than amazement at finding 
 men willing to encounter so useless an exposure. 
 Chingachgook was probably better acquainted 
 with the notions of white men, for he did not even 
 cast a glance aside from the riveted look his eye 
 maintained on the object by which he governed 
 their course. A ball soon struck the light and 
 polished paddle from the hands of the chief, and 
 drove it through the air, far in the advance. A 
 shout arose from the Hurons, who seized the op- 
 portunity to fire another volley. Uncas described 
 an arc in the water with his own blade, and, as 
 the canoe passed swiftly on, Chingachgook re- 
 covered his paddle, and, flourishing it on high, he 
 gave the war-whoop of the Mohicans, and then lent 
 his strength and skill again to the important task. 
 
 The clamorous sounds of “Le gros Serpent ! ” 
 “ La longue Carabine ! ” “ Le Cerf agile 1 ” burst 
 at once from the canoes behind, and seemed to 
 give new zeal to the pursuers. The scout seized 
 “ Kill-deer ” in his left hand, and elevating it above 
 his head, he shook it in triumph at his enemies. 
 The savages answered the insult with a yell, 
 and immediately another volley succeeded. The 
 bullets pattered along the lake, and one even 
 pierced the bark of their little vessel. No per- 
 ceptible emotion could be discovered in the Mo- 
 hicans during this critical moment, their rigid fea 
 
104 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 tures expressing neither hope nor alarm ; but the 
 scout again turned his head, and, laughing in his 
 own silent manner, he said to Heyward : 
 
 “ The knaves love to hear the sounds of their 
 pieces ; but the eye is not to be found among the 
 Mingoes that can calculate a true range in a dan- 
 cing canoe ! You see the dumb devils have taken 
 off a man to charge, and, by the smallest measure- 
 ment that can be allowed, we move three feet to 
 their two.” 
 
 Duncan, who was not altogether as easy under 
 this nice estimate of distances as his companions, 
 was glad to find, however, that, owing to their 
 superior dexterity, and the diversion among their 
 enemies, they were very sensibly obtaining the 
 advantage. The Hurons soon fired again, and a 
 bullet struck the blade of Hawk-eye’s paddle with- 
 out injury. 
 
 “ That will do,” said the scout, examining the 
 slight indentation with a curious eye ; “ it would 
 not have cut the skin of an infant, much less of 
 men who, like us, have been blown upon by the 
 heavens in their anger. Now, major, if you will 
 try to use this piece of flattened wood, I’ll let 
 ‘ Kill-deer ’ take a part in the conversation.” 
 
 Heyward seized the paddle, and applied him- 
 Belf to the work with an eagerness that supplied 
 the place of skill, while Hawk-eye was engaged in 
 inspecting the priming of his rifle. The latter then 
 took a swift aim and fired. The Huron in the 
 bews of the leading canoe had risen with a similar 
 object, and he now fell backward, suffering his 
 gun to escape from his hands into the water. In 
 an instant, however, he recovered his feet, though 
 his gestures were wild and bewildered. At the 
 same moment his companions suspended their 
 efforts, and the chasing canoes clustered together, 
 and became stationary. Chingachgook and Uncas 
 profited by the interval to regain their wind, 
 though Duncan continued to work with the most 
 persevering industry. The father and son now 
 cast calm but inquiring glances at each other, to 
 learn if either had sustained any injury by the 
 fire ; for both well knew that no cry or exclama- 
 tion would, in such a moment of necessity, have 
 been permitted to betray the accident. A few 
 large drops of blood were trickling down the 
 shoulder of the sagamore, who, when he perceived 
 that the eyes of Uncas dwelt too long on the 
 sight, raised some water in the hollow of his hand, 
 and washing off the stain, was content to mani- 
 fest, in this simple manner, the slightness of the 
 •njury. 
 
 “Softly, softly, major,” said the scout, who 
 by this time had reloaded his rifle ; “ we are a 
 little too far already for a rifle to put forth its 
 
 beauties, and you see yonder imps are holding a 
 council. Let them come up within striking dis- 
 tance — my eye may well be trusted in such a 
 matter — and I will trail the varlets the length of 
 the Horican, guaranteeing that not a shot of 
 theirs shall, at the worst, more than break tin 
 skin, while * Kill-deer’ shall touch the life twice 
 in three times.” 
 
 “We forget our errand,” returned the dili- 
 gent Duncan. “ For God’s sake let us profit by 
 this advantage, and increase our distance from 
 the enemy ! ” 
 
 “ Give me my children,” said Munro, hoarse- 
 ly ; “ trifle no longer with a father’s agony, but 
 restore me my babes ! ” 
 
 Long and habitual deference to the mandates 
 of his superiors had taught the scout the virtue 
 of obedience. Throwing a last and lingering 
 glance at the distant canoes, he laid aside his 
 rifle, and, relieving the wearied Duncan, resumed 
 the paddle* which he wielded with sinews that 
 never tired. His efforts were seconded by those 
 of the Mohicans, and a very few minutes served 
 to place such a sheet of water between them and 
 their enemies that Heyward once more breathed 
 freely. 
 
 The lake now began to expand, and their 
 route lay along a wide reach, that was lined, as 
 before, by high and ragged mountains. But the 
 islands were few, and easily avoided. The strokes 
 of the paddles grew more measured and regular, 
 while they who plied them continued their labor, 
 after the close and deadly chase from which they 
 had just relieved themselves, with as much cool- 
 ness as though their speed had been tried in sport, 
 rather than under such pressing, nay, almost des- 
 perate circumstances. 
 
 Instead of following the western shore, whith 
 er their errand led them, the wary Mohican in- 
 clined his course more toward those hills behind 
 which Montcalm was known to have led his army 
 into the formidable fortress of Ticonderoga. As 
 the Hurons, to every appearance, had abandoned 
 the pursuit, there was no apparent reason for this 
 excess of caution. It was, however, maintained 
 for hours, until they had reached a bay, nigh the 
 northern termination of the lake. Here the ca- 
 noe was driven upon the beach, and the whole 
 party landed. Hawk-eye and Heyward ascend- 
 ed an adjacent bluff, where the former, after 
 considering the expanse of water beneath him, 
 pointed out to the latter a small black object, 
 hovering under a headland, at the distance of 
 several miles. 
 
 “ Do you see it ? ” demanded the scout. 
 “Now, what would you account that spot, weri 
 
EVADING THE HURONS. 
 
 105 
 
 you left alone to white experience to find your 
 way through this wilderness? ” 
 
 “But for its distance and its magnitude, I 
 should suppose it a bird. Can it be a living ob- 
 ject ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis a canoe of good birchen bark, and pad- 
 died by fierce and crafty Mingoes. Though Provi- 
 dence has lent to those who inhabit the woods 
 eyes that would be needless to men in the settle- 
 ments, where there are inventions to assist the 
 sight, yet no human organs can see all the dan- 
 gers which at this moment circumvent us. These 
 varlets pretend to be bent chiefly on their sun- 
 down meal, but the moment it is dark they will 
 be on our trail, as true as hounds on the scent. 
 We must throw them off, or our pursuit of Le 
 Eenard Subtil may be given up. These lakes are 
 useful at times, especially when the game takes 
 the water,” continued the scout, gazing about 
 him with a countenance 6f concern ; “ but they 
 give no cover, except it be to the fishes. God 
 knows what the country would be, if the settle- 
 ment should ever spread far from the two rivers. 
 Both hunting and war would lose their beauty.” 
 
 “ Let us not delay a moment, without some 
 good and obvious cause.” 
 
 “ I little like that smoke, which you may see 
 worming up along the rock above the canoe,” in- 
 terrupted the abstracted scout. “ My life on it, 
 other eyes than ours see it, and know its mean- 
 ing. Well, words will not mend the matter, and 
 it is time that we were doing.” 
 
 Hawk-eye moved away from the lookout, and 
 descended, musing profoundly, to the shore. He 
 communicated the result of his observations to 
 his companions, in Delaware, and a short and 
 earnest consultation succeeded. When it termi- 
 nated, the three instantly set about executing their 
 new resolutions. 
 
 The canoe was lifted from the water, and borne 
 on the shoulders of the party. They proceeded 
 into the wood, making as broad and obvious a trail 
 as possible. They soon reached a water-course, 
 which they crossed, and continued onward, until 
 they came to an extensive and naked rock. At 
 this point, where their footsteps might be expect- 
 ed to be no longer visible, they retraced their 
 route to the brook, walking backward, with the 
 utmost care. They now followed the bed of the 
 little stream to the lake, into which they immedi- 
 ately launched their canoe again. A low point 
 concealed them from the headland, and the mar- 
 gin of the lake was fringed for some distance with 
 dense and overhanging bushes. Under the covnr 
 of these natural advantages, they toiled their way, 
 fcith patient industry, until the scout pronounced 
 
 that he believed it would be safe onoe more to 
 land. 
 
 The halt continued until evening rendered ob- 
 jects indistinct and uncertain to the eye. Then 
 they resumed their route, and, favored by the 
 darkness, pushed silently and vigorously toward 
 the western shore. Although the rugged outline 
 of mountain, to which they were steering, pre- 
 sented no distinctive marks to the eyes of Dun- 
 can, the Mohican entered the little haven he had 
 selected with the confidence and accuracy of an 
 experienced pilot. 
 
 The boat was again lifted and borne into the 
 woods, where it was carefully concealed under a 
 pile of brush. The adventurers assumed their 
 arms and packs, and the scout announced to Mun- 
 ro and Heyward that he and the Indians were at 
 last in readiness to proceed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 “If you find a man there, he shall die a flea’s death.” 
 
 Merry Wives of Windsor. 
 
 The party had landed on the border of a re- 
 gion that is, even to this day, less known to the 
 inhabitants of the States, than the deserts of Ara- 
 bia, or the steppes of Tartarv. It was the sterile 
 and rugged district which separates the tributa- 
 ries of Champlain from those of the Hudson, the 
 Mohawk, and the St. Lawrence. Since the period 
 of our tale, the active spirit of the country has 
 surrounded it with a belt of rich and thriving set- 
 tlements, though none but the hunter or the sav- 
 age is ever known, even now, to penetrate its 
 wild recesses. 
 
 As Hawk-eye and the Mohicans had, however, 
 often traversed the mountains and valleys of this 
 vast wilderness, they did not hesitate to plunge 
 into its depths, with the freedom of men accus- 
 tomed to its privations and difficulties. For many 
 hours the travellers toiled on their laborious way, 
 guided by a star, or following the direction of 
 some water-course, until the scout called a halt, 
 and, holding a short consultation with the Indians, 
 they lighted their fire, and made the usual prep- 
 arations to pass the remainder of the night where 
 they then were. 
 
 Imitating the example, and emulating the con- 
 fidence, (if their more experienced associates, Mun 
 ro and Duncan slept without fear, if not with- 
 out uneasiness. The dews were suffered to ex- 
 hale, and the sun had dispersed the mists, and 
 was shedding a strong and clear light in the for 
 est, when the travellers resumed their journey. 
 
106 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS 
 
 After proceeding a few miles, the progress of 
 Hawk-eye, who led the advance, became more de- 
 liberate and watchful. He often stopped to ex- 
 amine the trees ; nor did he cross a rivulet, with- 
 out attentively considering the quantity, the ve- 
 locity, and the color of its waters. Distrusting 
 his own judgment, his appeals to the opinion of 
 Chingachgook were frequent and earnest. Dur- 
 ing one of these conferences, Heyward observed 
 that Uncas stood a patient and silent, though, as 
 he imagined, an interested listener. He was 
 strongly tempted to address the young chief, and 
 demand his opinion of their progress ; but the 
 calm and dignified demeanor of the native in- 
 duced him to believe that, like himself, the other 
 was wholly dependent on the sagacity and intelli- 
 gence of the seniors of the party. At last, the 
 scout spoke in English, and at once explained the 
 embarrassment of their situation. 
 
 “When I found that the home-path of the 
 Hurons run north,” he said, u it did not need the 
 judgment of many long years to tell that they 
 would follow the valleys, and keep atween the 
 waters of the Hudson and the Horican, until they 
 might strike the springs of the Canada streams, 
 which would lead them into the heart of the coun- 
 try of the Freuchers. Yet here are we, within a 
 short range of the Scaroon, and not a sign of a 
 trail have we crossed ! Human natur’ is weak, 
 and it is possible we may not have taken the prop- 
 er scent.” 
 
 “ Heaven protect us from such an error !” ex- 
 claimed Duncan. “ Let us retrace our steps, and 
 examine as we go, with keener eyes. Has Uncas 
 no council to offer in such a strait ? ” 
 
 The young Mohican cast a glance at his father, 
 but, maintaining his quiet and reserved mien, he 
 continued silent. Chingachgook had caught the 
 look, and, motioning with his hand, bade him 
 speak. The moment this permission was accord- 
 ed, the countenance of Uncas changed from its 
 grave composure to a gleam of intelligence and 
 joy. Bounding forward like a deer, he sprang up 
 the side of a little acclivity, a few rods in advance, 
 and stood, exultingly, over a spot of fresh earth, 
 that looked as though it had been recently up- 
 turned by the passage of some heavy animal. 
 The eyes of the whole party followed the unex- 
 pected movement, and read their success in the 
 air of triumph that the youth assumed. 
 
 “ ’Tis the trail ! ” exclaimed the scout, advan- 
 cing to the spot ; “ the lad is quick of sight and 
 keen of wit for his years.” 
 
 “ ’Tis extraordinary that he should have with- 
 held his knowledge so *ong,” muttered Duncan, 
 at his elbow. 
 
 “ It would have been more wonderful had he 
 spoken without a bidding. No, no ; your young 
 white, who gathers his learning from books and 
 can measure what he knows by the page, may 
 conceit that his knowledge, like his legs, outruns 
 that of his father ; but where experience is the 
 master, the scholar is made to know the value of 
 years, and respects them accordingly.” 
 
 “ See ! ” said Uncas, pointing north and south, 
 at the evident marks of the broad trail on either 
 side of him ; “ the dark-hair has gone toward the 
 frost.” 
 
 “ Hound never ran on a more beautiful scent,” 
 responded the scout, dashing forward, at once, on 
 the indicated route ; “ we are favored, greatly fa- 
 vored, and can follow with high noses. Ay, here 
 are both your waddling beasts : this Huron trav- 
 els like a white general. The fellow is stricken 
 with a judgment, and is mad ! Look sharp for 
 wheels, sagamore,” he continued, looking back, 
 and laughing in his newly-awakened satisfaction ; 
 “ we shall soon have the fool journeying in a 
 coach, and that with three of the best pair of 
 eyes on the borders, in his rear.” 
 
 The spirits of the scout, and the astonishing 
 success of the chase, in which a circuitous dis- 
 tance of more than forty miles had been passed, 
 did not fail to impart a portion of hope to the 
 whole party. Their advance was rapid ; and 
 made with as much confidence as a traveller 
 would proceed along a wide highway. If a rock, 
 or a rivulet, or a bit of earth harder than com- 
 mon, severed the links of the clew they followed, 
 the true eye of the scout recovered them at a 
 distance, and seldom rendered the delay of a 
 single moment necessary. Their progress was 
 much facilitated by the certainty that Magua had 
 found it necessary to journey through the val- 
 leys ; a circumstance which rendered the general 
 direction of the route sure. Nor had the Huron 
 entirely neglected the arts uniformly practised 
 by the natives when retiring in front of an enemy. 
 False trails, and sudden turnings, were frequent, 
 wherever a brook, or the formation of the 
 ground, rendered them feasible ; but his pursuers 
 were rarely deceived, and never failed to detect 
 their error, before they had lost either time or 
 distance on the deceptive track. 
 
 By the middle of the afternoon they had 
 passed the Scaroon, and were following the route 
 of the declining sun. After descending an emi- 
 nence to a low bottom, through which a swift 
 stream glided, they suddenly came to a place 
 where the party of Le Renard had made a halt 
 Extinguished brands were lying around a spring, 
 the offals of a deer were scattered about the 
 
IN AN ENEMY’S COUNTRY. 
 
 107 
 
 place, and the trees bore evident marks of hav- 
 ing been browsed by the horses. At a little dis- 
 tance, Heyward discovered, and contemplated 
 with tender emotion, the small bower under 
 which he was fain to believe that Cora and Alice 
 had reposed. But while the earth was trodden, 
 and the footsteps of both men and beasts were 
 so plainly visible around the place, the trail ap- 
 peared to have suddenly ended. 
 
 It was easy to follow the tracks of the Narra- 
 gansets, but they seemed only to have wandered 
 without guides, or any other object than the pur- 
 suit of food. At length Uncas, who, with his 
 father, had endeavored to trace the route of the 
 horses, came upon a sign of their presence that 
 was quite recent. Before following the clew, he 
 communicated his success to his companions ; 
 and, while the latter were consulting on the cir- 
 cumstance, the youth reappeared, leading the two 
 fillies, with their saddles broken, and the hous- 
 ings soiled, as though they had been permitted 
 to run at will for several days. 
 
 “What should this prove?” said Duncan, 
 turning pale, and glancing his eyes around him, 
 as if he feared the brush and leaves were about 
 to give up some horrid secret. 
 
 “ That our march is come to a quick end, and 
 that we are in an enemy’s country,” returned the 
 scout. “ Had the knave been pressed, and the 
 gentle ones wanted horses to keep up with the 
 party, he might have taken their scalps ; but 
 without an enemy at his heels, and with such 
 rugged beasts as these, he would not hurt a hair 
 of their heads. I know your thoughts, and 
 shame be it to our color, that you have reason 
 for them ; but he who thinks that even a Mingo 
 would ill-treat a woman, unless it be to tomahawk 
 her, knows nothing of Indian natur’, or the laws 
 of the woods. No, no ; I have heard that the 
 French Indians had come into these hills to hunt 
 the moose, and we are getting within scent of 
 their camp. Why should they not ? the morning 
 and evening guns of Ty may be heard any day 
 among these mountains ; for the Frenchers are 
 running a new line atween the provinces of the 
 king and the Canadas. It is true that the horses 
 are here, but the Hurons are gone ; let us, then, 
 hunt for the path by which they departed.” 
 
 Hawk-eye and the Mohicans now applied 
 themselves to their task in good earnest. A 
 circle of a few hundred feet in circumference was 
 drawn, and each of the party took a segment 
 for his portion. The examination, however, re- 
 sulted in no discovery. The impressions of foot- 
 steps were numerous, but they all appeared like 
 those of men who had wandered about the spot 
 
 without any design to quit it. Again the scout 
 and his companions made the circuit of the halt- 
 ing-place, each slowly following the other, until 
 they assembled in the centre once more, no wiser 
 than when they started. 
 
 “ Such cunning is not without its deviltry,” 
 exclaimed Hawk-eye, when he met the disap- 
 pointed looks of his assistants. 
 
 “We must get down to it, sagamore, begin- 
 ning at the spring, and going over the ground by 
 inches. The Huron shall never brag in his tribe 
 that he has a foot which leaves no print.” 
 
 Setting the example himself, the scout en- 
 gaged in the scrutiny with renewed zeal. Not a 
 leaf was left unturned. The sticks were removed, 
 and the stones lifted — for Indian cunning was 
 known frequently to adopt these objects as cov- 
 ers, laboring, with the utmost patience and indus- 
 try, to conceal each footstep as they proceeded. 
 Still no discovery was made. At length Uncas, 
 whose activity had enabled him to achieve his 
 portion of the task the soonest, raked the earth 
 across the turbid little rill which ran from the 
 spring, and diverted its course into another chan- 
 nel. So soon as its narrow bed below the dam 
 was dry, he stooped over it with keen and curi- 
 ous eyes. A cry of exultation immediately an- 
 nounced the success of the young warrior. The 
 whole party crowded to the spot, where Uncas 
 pointed out the impression of a moccasin In the 
 moist alluvion. 
 
 “ The lad will be an honor to his people,” 
 said Hawk-eye, regarding the trail with as much 
 admiration as a naturalist would expend on the 
 tusk of a mammoth or the rib of a mastodon ; 
 “ ay, and a thorn in the sides of the Hurons. 
 Yet that is not the footstep of an Indian ; the 
 weight is too much on the heel, and the toes are 
 squared, as though one of the French dancers had 
 been in, pigeon-winging his tribe ! — Run back, 
 Uncas, and bring me the size of the singer’s foot. 
 You will find a beautiful print of it just opposite 
 yon rock, ag’in the hill-side.” 
 
 While the youth was engaged in this commis- 
 sion, the scout and Chingachgook were attentive- 
 ly considering the impressions. The measure- 
 ments agreed, and the former unhesitatingly pro- 
 nounced that the footstep was that of David, who 
 had, once more, been made to exchange his shoos 
 for moccasins. 
 
 “ I can now read the whole of it, as plainly 
 as if I had seen the arts of Le Subtil,” he add 
 ed ; “ the singer, being a man whose gifts lay 
 chiefly in his throat and feet, was made to go 
 first, and the others have trod i:i his steps, imita 
 ting their formation.” 
 
108 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “ But,” cried Duncan, “ I see no signs of — ” 
 
 “The gentle ones,” interrupted the scout; 
 “ the varlet has found a way to carry them, un- 
 til he supposed he had thrown any followers off 
 the scent. My life on it, we see their pretty little 
 feet again, before many rods go by.” 
 
 The whole party now proceeded, following the 
 course of the rill, keeping anxious eyes on the 
 regular impressions. The water soon flowed. into 
 its bed again, but, watching the ground on either 
 side, the foresters pursued their way, content 
 with knowing that the trail lay beneath. More 
 than half a mile was passed, before the rill rip- 
 pled close around the base of an extensive and 
 dry rock. Here they paused to make sure that 
 the Hurons had not quitted the water. 
 
 It was fortunate they did so. For the quick 
 and active Uncas soon found the impression of a 
 foot on a bunch of moss, where it would seem an 
 Indian had inadvertently trodden. Pursuing the 
 direction given by this discovery, he entered the 
 neighboring thicket, and struck the trail, as fresh 
 and obvious as it had been before they reached 
 the spring. Another shout announced the good 
 fortune of the youth to his companions, and at 
 once terminated the search. 
 
 “Ay, it has been planned with Indian judg- 
 ment,” said the scout, when the party was assem- 
 bled around the place ; “ and would have blinded 
 white eyes.” 
 
 “ Shall we proceed ? ” demanded Heyward. 
 
 “ Softly, softly : we know our path ; but it is 
 good to examine the formation of things. This 
 is my schooling, major ; and, if one neglects the 
 book, there is little chance of learning from the 
 open hand of Providence. All is plain but one 
 thing, which is the manner that the knave con- 
 trived to get the gentle ones along the blind trail. 
 Even a Huron would be too proud to let their 
 tender feet touch the water.” 
 
 “ Will this assist in explaining the difficulty ? ” 
 said Heyward, pointing toward the fragments of 
 a sort of hand-barrow, that had been rudely con- 
 structed of boughs, and bound together with 
 withes, and which now seemed carelessly cast 
 aside as useless. 
 
 “ ’Tis explained ! ” cried the delighted Hawk- 
 eye. “ If them varlets have passed a minute, 
 they have spent hours, in striving to fabricate a 
 lying end to their trail ! Well, I’ve known them 
 waste a day in the same manner, to as little pur- 
 pose. Here we have three pair of moccasins, and 
 two of little feet. It is amazing that Any mortal 
 beings can journey on limbs so small I — Pass me 
 the thong of buckskin, IJncas, and let me take the 
 length of this foot. By the Lord, it is no longer 
 
 than a child’s, and yet the maidens are tall and 
 comely. That Providence is partial in its gifts, 
 for its own wise reasons, the best and most con- 
 tented of us must allow.” 
 
 “ The tender limbs of my daughters are un- 
 equal to these hardships,” said Munro, looking at 
 the light footsteps of his children, with a parent’s 
 love ; “ we shall find their fainting forms in this 
 desert.” 
 
 “ Of that there is little cause of fear,” returned 
 the scout, slowly shaking his head ; “ this is a 
 firm and straight, though a light step, and not 
 over-long. See, the heel has hardly touched the 
 ground ; and there the dark-hair has made a little 
 jump, from root to root. No, no ; my knowledge 
 for it, neither of them was nigh fainting, here- 
 away. Now, the singer was beginning to be foot- 
 sore and leg-weary, as is plain by his trail. There, 
 you see, he slipped ; here he has travelled wide, 
 and tottered ; and there, again, it looks as though 
 he journeyed on snow-shoes. Ay, ay, a man who 
 uses his throat altogether, can hardly give his 
 legs a proper training.” 
 
 From such undeniable testimony, did the prac- 
 tised woodsman arrive at the truth, with nearly 
 as much certainty and precision as if he had been 
 a witness of all those events which his ingenuity 
 so easily elucidated. Cheered by these assur- 
 ances, and satisfied by a reasoning that was so 
 obvious, while it was so simple, the party resumed 
 its course, after making a short halt, to take a 
 hurried repast. 
 
 When the meal was ended, the scout cast a 
 glance upward at the setting sun, and pushed for- 
 ward with a rapidity which compelled Heyward 
 and the still vigorous Munro to exert all their 
 muscles to equal. Their route, now, lay along the 
 bottom which has already been mentioned. As 
 the Hurons had made no further efforts to conceal 
 their footsteps, the progress of the pursuers was 
 no longer delayed by uncertainty. Before an 
 hour had elapsed, however, the speed of Hawk- 
 eye sensibly abated, and his head, instead of 
 maintaining its former direct and forward look, 
 began to turn suspiciously from side to side, as it 
 he were conscious of approaching danger. He 
 soon stopped again and waited for the whole party 
 to come up. 
 
 “ I scent the Hurons,” he said, speaking to 
 the Mohicans ; “ yonder is open sky, through the 
 tree-tops, and we are getting too nigh their en- 
 campment. Sagamore, you will take the hill-side, 
 to the right ; Uncas will bend along the brook to 
 the left, while I will try the trail. If any thing 
 should happen, the call will be three croaks of a 
 crow. I saw one of the birds fanning himeelf ir 
 
A STRANGE INDIAN. 
 
 109 
 
 the air, just beyond the dead oak — another sign 
 that we are touching an encampment.” 
 
 The Indians departed their several ways with- 
 out reply, while Hawk-eye cautiously proceeded 
 with the two gentlemen. Heyward soon pressed 
 to the side of their guide, eager to catch an early 
 glimpse of those enemies he had pursued with so 
 much toil and anxiety. His companion told him 
 to steal to the edge of the wood, which, as usual, 
 was fringed with a thicket, and wait his coming, 
 for he wished to examine certain suspicious signs 
 a little on one side. Duncan obeyed, and soon 
 found himself in a situation to command a view 
 which he found as extraordinary as it was novel. 
 
 The trees of many acres had been felled, and 
 the glow of a mild summer’s evening had fallen 
 on the clearing, in beautiful contrast to the gray 
 light of the forest. A short distance from the 
 place where Duncan stood, the stream had seem- 
 ingly expanded into a little lake, covering most 
 of the low land, from mountain to mountain. The 
 water fell out of this wide basin, in a cataract so 
 regular and gentle, that it appeared rather to be 
 the work of human hands, than fashioned by Na- 
 ture. A hundred earthen dwellings stood on the 
 margin of the lake, and even in its water, as 
 though the latter had overflowed its usual, banks. 
 Their rounded roofs, admirably moulded for de- 
 fence against the weather, denoted more of indus- 
 try and foresight than the natives were wont to 
 bestow on their regular habitations, much less on 
 those they occupied for the temporary purposes 
 of hunting and war. In short, the whole village 
 or town, whichever it might be termed, possessed 
 more of method and neatness of execution, than 
 the white men had been accustomed to believe 
 belonged, ordinarily, to the Indian habits. It ap- 
 peared, however, to be deserted. At least, so 
 thought Duncan for many minutes ; but, at length, 
 he fancied he discovered several human forms ad- 
 vancing toward him on all fours, and apparently 
 dragging in their train some heavy, and, as he was 
 quick to apprehend, some formidable engine. 
 Just then a few dark-looking heads gleamed out 
 of the dwellings, and the place seemed suddenly 
 alive with beings, which, however, glided from 
 cover to cover so swiftly, as to allow no oppor- 
 tunity of examining their humors or pursuits. 
 Alarmed at these suspicious and inexplicable 
 movements, he was about to attempt the signal 
 of the crows, when the rustling of leaves at hand 
 drew his eyes in another direction. 
 
 The young man started, and recoiled a few 
 paces instinctively, when he found himself within 
 a hundred yards of a stranger Indian. Recover- 
 ing his recollection on the instant, instead of 
 
 sounding an alarm, which might prove fatal to 
 himself, he remained stationary, an attentive ob- 
 server of the other’s motions. 
 
 An instant of calm observation served to as- 
 sure Duncan that he was undiscovered. The na- 
 tive, like himself, seemed occupied in considering 
 the low dwellings of the village, and the stolen 
 movements of its inhabitants. It was impossible 
 to discover the expression of his features, through 
 the grotesque mask of paint under which they 
 were concealed; though Duncan fancied it was 
 rather melancholy than savage. His head was 
 shaved, as usual, with the exception of the crown, 
 from whose tuft three or four faded feathers 
 from a hawk’s wing were loosely dangling. A 
 ragged calico mantle half encircled his body, 
 while his nether garment was composed of an or- 
 dinary shirt, the sleeves of which were made to 
 perform the office that is usually executed by a 
 much more commodious arrangement. His legs 
 were bare, and sadly cut and torn by briers. The 
 feet were, however, covered with a pair of good 
 deer-skin moccasins. Altogether, the appearance 
 of the individual was forlorn and miserable. 
 
 Duncan was still curiously observing the per- 
 son of his neighbor, when the scout stole silently 
 and cautiously to his side. 
 
 “You see we have reached their settlement or 
 encampment,” whispered the young man ; “ and 
 here is one of the savages himself, in a very em- 
 barrassing position for our further movements.” 
 
 Hawk-eye started, and dropped his rifle, 
 when, directed by the finger of his companion, 
 the stranger came under his view. Then, lower- 
 ing the dangerous muzzle, he stretched forward 
 his long neck, as if to assist a scrutiny that was 
 already intensely keen. 
 
 “The imp is not a Huron,” he said, “nor of 
 any of the Canada tribes ; and yet you see, by his 
 clothes, the knave has been plundering a white. 
 Ay, Montcalm has raked the woods for his in- 
 road, and a whooping, murdering set of varlets 
 has he gathered together. Can you see where he 
 has put his rifle or his bow ? ” 
 
 “ He appears to have no arms ; nor does he 
 seem to be viciously inclined. Unless he commu- 
 nicate the alarm to his fellows, who, as you see, 
 are dodging about the water, we have but little to 
 fear from him.” 
 
 The scout turned to Heyward, and regarded 
 him a moment with unconcealed amazement. 
 Then, opening wide his mouth, he indulged in un- 
 restrained and heart-felt laughter, though in tha 
 silent and peculiar manner which danger had s< 
 long taught him to practise. 
 
 Repeating the words, “Fellows who are dodg 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 lit 
 
 ing about tile water! ” he added, “so much for 
 schooling and passing a boyhood in the settle- 
 ments ! The knave has long legs, though, and 
 shall not be trusted. Do you keep him under 
 your rifle while I creep in behind, through the 
 bush, and take him alive. Fire on no account.” 
 
 Heyward had already permitted his compan- 
 ion to bury part of his person in the thicket, 
 when, stretching forth his arm, he arrested him, 
 in order to ask : 
 
 “ If I see you in danger, may I not risk a 
 shot ? ” 
 
 Hawk-eye regarded him a moment, like one 
 who knew not how to take the question ; then, 
 nodding his head, he answered, still laughing, 
 though inaudibly: 
 
 “ Fire a whole platoon, major.’ ’ 
 
 In the next moment he was concealed by the 
 leaves. Duncan waited several minutes in fever- 
 ish impatience, before he caught another glimpse 
 of the scout. Then he reappeared, creeping 
 along the earth, from which his dress was hardly 
 distinguishable, directly in the rear of his intend- 
 ed captive. Having reached within a few yards 
 of the latter, he arose to his feet, silently and slow- 
 ly. At that instant, several loud blows were 
 struck on the water, and Duncan turned his eyes 
 just in time to perceive that a hundred dark 
 forms were plunging, in a body, into the troubled 
 little sheet. Grasping his rifle, his looks were 
 again bent on the Indian near him. Instead of 
 taking the alarm, the unconscious savage stretched 
 forward his neck, as if he also watched the move- 
 ments about the gloomy lake, with a sort of 
 silly curiosity. In the mean time, the uplifted 
 hand of Hawk-eye was above him. But, without 
 any apparent reason, it was withdrawn, and its 
 owner indulged in another long though still 
 silent fit of merriment. When the peculiar and 
 hearty laughter of Hawk-eye was ended, instead 
 of grasping his victim by the throat, he tapped 
 him lightly on the shoulder, and exclaimed aloud : 
 
 “ How now, friend ! have you a mind to teach 
 the beavers to sing ? ” 
 
 “ Even so,” was the ready answer. “ It would 
 seem that the Being that gave them power to im- 
 prove His gifts so well, would not deny them 
 voices to proclaim His praise.” 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 “ Boi. Are we all met ? 
 
 Qui. Pat — pat ; and here’s a marvellous 
 Convenient place for our rehearsal.* 
 
 SnAKESFJCAa*. 
 
 The reader may better imagine, than we de- 
 scribe, the surprise of Heyward. His lurking 
 Indians were suddenly converted into four-footed 
 beasts ; his lake into a beaver-pond ; his cata- 
 ract into a dam, constructed by those industrious 
 and ingenious quadrupeds ; and a suspected ene- 
 my into his tried friend, David Gamut, the master 
 of psalmody. The presence of the latter created 
 so many unexpected hopes relative to the sisters 
 that, without a moment’s hesitation, the young 
 man broke out of his ambush and sprang forward 
 to join the two principal actors in the scene. 
 
 The merriment of Hawk-eye was not easily 
 appeased. Without ceremony, and with a rough 
 hand, he twirled the supple Gamut around on his 
 heel, and more than once affirmed that the Hu- 
 rons had done themselves great credit in the fash- 
 ion of his costume. Then, seizing the hand of 
 the other, he squeezed it with a gripe that 
 brought the tears into the eyes of the placid 
 David, and wished him joy of his new condition. 
 
 “You were about opening your throat-prac- 
 tysings among the beavers, were ye ? ” he said. 
 “ The cunning devils know half the trade already, 
 for they beat the time with their tails, as you 
 heard just now; and in good time it was too, or 
 ‘Kill-deer’ might have sounded the first note 
 among them. I have known greater fools, who 
 could read and write, than an experienced old 
 beaver: but, as for squalling, the animals are 
 born dumb ! What think you of such a song as 
 this ? ” 
 
 David shut his sensitive ears, and even Hey- 
 ward, apprised as he was of the nature of the cry, 
 looked upward in quest of the bird, as the cawing 
 of a crow rang in the air about them. 
 
 “ See,” continued the laughing scout, as he 
 pointed toward the remainder of the party, who, 
 in obedience to the signal, were already approach- 
 ing ; “ this is music, which has its natural virtues ; 
 it brings two good rifles to my elbow, to say noth- 
 ing of the knives and tomahawks. But we see 
 that you are safe ; now tell us what has become 
 of the maidens.” 
 
 “ They are captives to the heathen,” said 
 David ; “ and, though greatly troubled in spirit, 
 enjoying comfort and safety in the body.” 
 
 “Both ? ” demanded the breathless Heyward. 
 
 “ Even so. Though our wayfaring has been 
 sore and our sustenance scanty, we have had llv 
 
NEWS OF THE CAPTURED SISTERS. 
 
 Ill 
 
 tie other cause for complaint, except the violence 
 done our feelings, by being thus led in captivity 
 into a far land.” 
 
 “ Bless ye for these very words ! ” exclaimed 
 the trembling Munro ; “ I shall then receive my 
 babes, spotless and angel-like, as I lost them ! ” 
 
 “ I know not that their delivery is at hand,” 
 returned the doubting David • “ the leader of 
 these savages is possessed of an evil spirit that no 
 power short of Omnipotence can tame. I have 
 tried him sleeping and waking, but neither sounds 
 nor language seem to touch his soul.” 
 
 “ Where is the knave ? ” bluntly interrupted 
 the scout. 
 
 “ He hunts the moose to-day, with his young 
 men ; and to-morrow, as I hear, they pass far- 
 ther into these forests, and nigher to the borders 
 of Canada. The elder maiden is conveyed to a 
 neighboring people, whose lodges are situate be- 
 yond yonder black pinnacle of rock ; while the 
 vounger is detained among the women of the Hu- 
 rons, whose dwellings are but two short miles 
 hence, on a table-land, where the fire has done 
 the office of the axe, and prepared the place for 
 their reception.” 
 
 “ Alice, my gentle Alice ! ” murmured Hey- 
 ward ; “ she has lost the consolation of her sis- 
 ter’s presence ! ” 
 
 “ Even so. But so far as praise and thanks- 
 giving in psalmody can tamper the spirit in afflic- 
 tion, she has not suffered.” 
 
 “ Has she, then, a heart for music ? ” 
 
 “ Of the graver and more solemn character ; 
 though it must be acknowledged that, in spite of 
 all my endeavors, the maiden weeps oftener than 
 she smiles. At such moments I forbear to press 
 the holy songs ; but there are many sweet and 
 comfortable periods of satisfactory communica- 
 tion, when the ears of the savages are astounded 
 with the upliftings of our voices.” 
 
 “ And why are you permitted to go at large, 
 unwatched ? ” 
 
 David composed his features into what he in- 
 tended should express an air of modest humility, 
 before he meekly replied : 
 
 “ Little be the praise to such a worm as I. 
 But, though the power of psalmody was suspended 
 in the terrible business of that field of blood 
 through which we passed, it has recovered its in- 
 fluence even over the souls of the heathen, and I 
 am suffered to go and come at will.” 
 
 The scout laughed, and, tapping his own fore- 
 head significantly, he perhaps explained the singu- 
 lar indulgence more satisfactorily when he said : 
 
 “ The Indians never harm a non-composser. 
 But why, when the path lay open before your 
 23 
 
 eyes, did you not strike back on your own trail 
 (it is not so blind as that which a squirrel would 
 make), and bring in the tidings to Edward ? ” 
 
 The scout, remembering only his own sturdy 
 and iron nature, had probably exacted a task 
 that David, under no circumstances, could have 
 performed. But, without entirely losing the meek- 
 ness of his air, the latter was content to answer : 
 
 “ Though my soul would rejoice to visit the 
 habitations of Christendom once more, my feet 
 would rather follow the tender spirits intrusted 
 to my keeping, even into the idolatrous province 
 of the Jesuits, than take one step backward, 
 while they pined in captivity and sorrow.” 
 
 Though the figurative language of David was 
 not very intelligible, the sincere and steady expres- 
 sion of his eye, and the glow on his honest coun- 
 tenance, were not easily mistaken. Uncas pressed 
 close to his side, and regarded the speaker with a 
 look of commendation, while his father expressed 
 his satisfaction by the ordinary pithy exclamation 
 of approbation. The scout shook his head as he 
 rejoined : 
 
 “The Lord never intended that the man 
 should place all his endeavors in his throat, to the 
 neglect of other and better gifts ! But he has 
 fallen into the hands of some silly woman, when 
 he should have been gathering his education 
 under a blue sky, among the beauties of the 
 forest. — Here, friend ; I did intend to kindle a 
 fire with this tooting-whistle of thine ; but as you 
 value the thing, take it, and blow your best on 
 it ! ” 
 
 Gamut received his pitch-pipe with as strong 
 an expression of pleasure as he believed compati- 
 ble with the grave functions he exercised. After 
 essaying its virtues repeatedly, in contrast with 
 his own voice, and satisfying himself that none 
 of its melody was lost, he made a very serious 
 demonstration toward achieving a few stanzas of 
 one of the longest effusions in the little volume so 
 often mentioned. 
 
 Heyward, however, hastily interrupted his 
 pious purpose, by continuing questions concern- 
 ing the past and present condition of his fellow- 
 captives, and in a manner more methodical than 
 had been permitted by his feelings in the opening 
 of their interview. David, though he regarded 
 his treasure with longing eyes, was constrained to 
 answer : especially as the venerable father took a 
 part in the interrogatories, with an interest too 
 imposing to be denied. Nor did the scout fail to 
 throw in a pertinent inquiry, whenever a fitting 
 occasion presented. In this manner, though with 
 frequent interruptions, which were filled with 
 certain threatening sounds from the recovered 
 
112 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 instrument, the pursuers were put in possession 
 of such leading circumstances as were likely to 
 prove useful in accomplishing their great and en- 
 grossing object — the recovery of the sisters. 
 The narrative of David was simple, and the facts 
 but few. 
 
 Magua had waited on the mountain until a 
 safe moment to retire presented itself, when he 
 had descended, and taken the route along the 
 western side of the Horican, in the direction of 
 the Canadas. As the subtle Huron was familiar 
 with the paths, and well knew there was no im- 
 mediate danger of pursuit, their progress had 
 been moderate, and far from fatiguing. It ap- 
 peared, from the unembellished statement of 
 David, that his own presence had been rather en- 
 dured than desired ; though even Magua had not 
 been entirely exempt from that veneration with 
 which the Indians regarded those whom the 
 Great Spirit had visited in their intellects. At 
 night, the utmost care had been taken of the cap- 
 tives, both to prevent injury from the damps of 
 the woods, and to guard against an escape. At 
 the spring, the horses were turned loose, as had 
 been seen ; and notwithstanding the remoteness 
 and length of their trail, the artifices already 
 named were resorted to, in order to cut off every 
 clew to their place of retreat. On the arrival at 
 the encampment of his people, Magua, in obedi- 
 ence to a policy seldom departed from, separated 
 his prisoners. Cora had been sent to a tribe that 
 temporarily occupied an adjacent valley, though 
 David was far too ignorant of the customs and 
 history of the natives to be able to declare any 
 thing satisfactory concerning their name or char- 
 acter. He only knew that they had not engaged 
 in the late expedition against William Henry; 
 that, like the Hurons themselves, they were allies 
 of Montcalm ; and that they maintained an amica- 
 ble though a watchful intercourse with the war- 
 like and savage people whom chance had, for a 
 time, brought in such close and disagreeable con- 
 tact with themselves. 
 
 The Mohicans and the scout listened to his 
 interrupted and imperfect narrative, with an in- 
 terest that obviously increased as he proceeded ; 
 and it was while attempting to explain the pur- 
 suits of the community in which Cora was de- 
 tained, that the latter abruptly demanded — 
 
 “ Did you see the fashion of their knives ? 
 were they of English or French formation ? ” 
 
 “ My thoughts were bent on no such vanities, 
 but rather mingled in consolation with those of 
 the maidens.” 
 
 “ The time may come when you will not con- 
 sider the knife of a savage such a despisable van- 
 
 ity,” returned the scout, with a strong expression 
 of contempt for the other’s dulness. “ Had they 
 held their corn-feast — or can you say any thing 
 of the totems of their tribe ? ” 
 
 “ Of corn, we had many and plentiful feasts ; 
 for the grain, being in the milk, is both sweet to 
 the mouth and comfortable to the stomach. Of 
 totem, I know not the meaning ; but if it apper. 
 taineth in any wise to the art of Indian music, it 
 need not be inquired after at their hands. They 
 never join their voices in praise, and it would 
 seem that they are among the profanest of the 
 idolatrous.” 
 
 “ Therein you belie the nature of an Indian. 
 Even the Mingo adores but the true and living 
 God. ’Tis a wicked fabrication of the whites, 
 and I say it to the shame of my color, that would 
 make the warrior bow down before images of his 
 own creation. It is true, they endeavor to make 
 truces with the wicked one — as who would not 
 with an enemy he cannot conquer? — but they 
 look up for favor and assistance to the Great and 
 Good Spirit only.” 
 
 “ It may be so,” said David ; “ but I have seen 
 strange and fantastic images drawn in their paint, 
 of which their admiration and care savored of 
 spiritual pride; especially one, and that, too, a 
 foul and loathsome object.” 
 
 “ Was it a sarpent ? ” quickly demanded the 
 scout. 
 
 “ Much the same. It was in the likeness ol 
 an abject and creeping tortoise.” 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” exclaimed both the attentive Mo- 
 hicans in a breath; while the scout shook his 
 head with the air of one who had made an im- 
 portant but by no means a pleasing discovery. 
 Then the father spoke, in the language of the 
 Delawares, and with a calmness and dignity that 
 instantly arrested the attention even of those to 
 whom his words were unintelligible. His gestures 
 were impressive, and at times energetic. Once he 
 lifted his arm on high ; and, as it descended, the 
 action threw aside the folds of his light mantle, a 
 finger resting on his breast, as if he would en- 
 force his meaning by the attitude. Duncan’s eyes 
 followed the movement, and he perceived that the 
 animal just mentioned was beautifully though 
 faintly worked, in a blue tint, on the swarthj 
 breast of the chief. All that he had ever hoard 
 of the violent separation of the vast tribes of the 
 Delawares rushed across his mind, and he awaited 
 the proper moment to speak, with a suspense that 
 was rendered nearly intolerable, by his interest in 
 the stake. His wish, however, was anticipated 
 by the scout, who turned from hks red friend, say 
 ing— 
 
BOLD ADVENTURE OF DUNCAN AND DAVID 
 
 “Wo have found that which may be good or 
 evil to us, as Heaven disposes. The sagamore is 
 of the high blood of the Delawares, and is the 
 great chief of their Tortoises ! That some of this 
 stock are among the people of whom the singer 
 tells us, is plain, by his words ; and had he but 
 spent half the breath in prudent questions, that 
 he has blown away in making a trumpet of his 
 throat, we might have known how many warriors 
 they numbered. It is, altogether, a dangerous 
 path we move in; for a friend whose face is 
 turned from you often bears a bloodier mind than 
 the enemy who seeks your scalp.” 
 
 “Explain,” said Duncan. 
 
 “ ’Tis a long and melancholy tradition, and one 
 1 little like to think of ; for it is not to be denied, 
 that the evil has been mainly done by men with 
 white skins. But it has ended in turning the 
 tomahawk of brother against brother, and brought 
 the Mingo and the Delaware to travel in the same 
 paih.” 
 
 “ You then suspect it is a portion of that peo- 
 ple among whom Cora resides ? ” 
 
 The scout nodded his head in assent, though 
 he seemed anxious to waive the further discussion 
 of a subject that appeared painful. The im- 
 patient Duncan now made several hasty and des- 
 perate propositions to attempt the release of the 
 sisters. Munro seemed to shake off his apathy, 
 and listened to the wild schemes of the young 
 man with a deference that his gray hairs and rev- 
 erend years should have denied. But the scout, 
 after suffering the ardor of the lover to expend 
 itself a little, found means to convince him of the 
 folly of precipitation, in a matter that would re- 
 quire their coolest judgment and utmost forti- 
 tude. 
 
 “ It would be well,” he added, “ to let this 
 man go in again, as usual, and for him to tarry 
 n the lodges, giving notice to the gentle ones of 
 iFur approach, until we call hini out by signal, to 
 *onsult. — You know the cry of a crow, friend, 
 ‘tom the whistle of the whippoorwill ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis a pleasing bird,” resumed David, “ and 
 was a soft and melancholy note ; though the time 
 rather quick and ill-measured.” 
 
 “He speaks of the wish-ton-wish,” said the 
 scout. — “Well, since you like his whistle, it shall 
 be your signal. Remember, then, when you hear 
 the whippoorwill’s call three times repeated, you 
 aro to come into the bushes where the bird might 
 be supposed — ” 
 
 “Stop,” interrupted Heyward; “I will ac- 
 company him.” 
 
 “ f ou ? ” exclaimed the astonished Hawk-eye; 
 
 * are yt>4 red of seeing the sun rise and set ? ” 
 
 113 
 
 “ David is a living proof that the Hurons can 
 be merciful.” 
 
 “ Ay, but David can use bis throat, as no man 
 in his senses would pervart the gift.” 
 
 “I too can play the madman, the fool, the 
 hero ; in short, any or every thing to rescue her I 
 love. Name your objections no longer ; I am re- 
 solved.” 
 
 Hawk-eye regarded the young man a moment 
 in speechless amazement. But Duncan, who, in 
 deference to the other’s skill and services, had 
 hitherto submitted somewhat implicitly to his dic- 
 tation, now assumed the superior, with a manner 
 that was not easily resisted. He waved his hand, 
 in sign of his dislike to all remonstrance, and 
 then, in more tempered language, he continued : 
 
 “ You have the means of disguise ; change me ; 
 paint me too, if you will ; in short, alter me to 
 any thing — a fool.” 
 
 “ It is not for one like me to say that he who 
 is already formed by so powerful a hand as Provi- 
 dence, stands in need of a change,” muttered the 
 discontented scout. “ When you send your par- 
 ties abroad in war, you find it prudent, at least, 
 to arrange the marks and places of encampment, 
 in order that they who fight on your side may 
 know when and where to expect a friend.” 
 
 “ Listen,” interrupted Duncan ; “ you hare 
 heard from this faithful follower of the captives, 
 that the Indians are of two tribes, if not of differ- 
 ent nations. With one, whom you think to be a 
 branch of the Delawares, is she you call the 
 ‘ dark-hair ; ’ the other, and younger of the ladies, 
 is undeniably with our declared enemies, the Hu- 
 rons. It becomes my youth and rank to attempt 
 the latter adventure. While you, therefore, are 
 negotiating with your friends for the release of 
 one of the sisters, I will effect that of the other, 
 or die.” 
 
 The awakened spirit of the young soldier 
 gleamed in his eyes, and his form became impos- 
 ing under its influence. Hawk-eye, though too 
 much accustomed to Indian artifices not to fore- 
 see the danger of the experiment, knew not well 
 how to combat this sudden resolution. 
 
 Perhaps there was something in the proposal 
 that suited his own hardy nature, and that secret 
 love of desperate adventure, which had increased 
 with his experience, until hazard and danger had 
 become, in some measure, necessary to the enjoy- 
 ment of his existence. Instead of continuing to 
 oppose the scheme of Duncan, his humor sudden- 
 ly altered, and he lent himself to its execution. 
 
 “ Come,” he said, with a good-humored smile; 
 “ the buck that will take to the water must be 
 headed, and not followed. Chingachgook has as 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 114 
 
 many different paints as the engineer officer’s 
 wife, who takes down Natur’ on scraps of paper, 
 making the mountains look like cocks of rusty 
 hay, and placing the blue sky in reach of your 
 hand. The sagamore can use them too. Seat 
 yourself on the log ; and, my life on it, he can 
 make a natural fool of you, and that well to your 
 liking.” 
 
 Duncan complied ; and the Mohican, who had 
 been an attentive listener to the discourse, readily 
 undertook the office. Long practised in all the 
 subtle arts of his race, he drew, with great dex- 
 terity and quickness, the fantastic shadow that the 
 natives were accustomed to consider as the evi- 
 dence of a friendly and jocular disposition. Every 
 line that could possibly be interpreted into a se- 
 cret inclination for war, was carefully avoided; 
 while, on the other hand, he studied those con- 
 ceits that might be construed into amity. 
 
 In short, he entirely sacrificed every appear- 
 ance of the warrior to the masquerade of a buf- 
 foon. Such exhibitions were not uncommon 
 among the Indians ; and, as Duncan was already 
 sufficiently disguised in his dress, there certainly 
 did exist some reason for believing that, with his 
 knowledge of the French, he might pass for a 
 juggler from Ticonderoga, straggling among the 
 allied and friendly tribes. 
 
 When he was thought to be sufficiently 
 painted, the scout gave him much friendly ad- 
 vice ; concerted signals, and appointed the place 
 where they should meet, in the event of mutual 
 success. The parting between Munro and his 
 young friend was more melancholy ; still the for- 
 mer submitted to the separation with an indiffer- 
 ence that his warm and honest nature would never 
 have permitted in a more healthful state of mind. 
 The scout led Heyward aside, and acquainted him 
 with his intention to leave the veteran in some 
 safe encampment, in charge of Chingachgook, 
 while he and Uncas pursued their inquiries among 
 the people they had reason to believe were Dela- 
 wares. Then, renewing his cautions and advice, 
 he concluded by saying, with a solemnity and 
 warmth of feeling with which Duncan was deeply 
 touched : 
 
 “ And now God bless you ! You have shown 
 a spirit that I like ; for it is the gift of youth, 
 more especially one of warm blood and a stout 
 heart. But believe the warning of a man who 
 has reason to know all he says to be true. You 
 will have occasion for your best manhood, and 
 for a sharper wit than what is to be gathered in 
 books, afore you outdo the cunning or get the 
 better of the courage of a Mingo. God bless 
 you ! if the Hurons master your scalp, rely on 
 
 the promise of one who has two stout warriors to 
 back him. They shall pay for their victory, with 
 a life for every hair it holds. I say, young gen- 
 tleman, may Providence bless your undertaking, 
 which is altogether for good ; and remember, that 
 to outwit the knaves it is lawful to practise thing* 
 that may not be naturally the gift of a white- 
 skin.” 
 
 Duncan shook his worthy and reluctant asso- 
 ciate warmly by the hand, once more recom- 
 mended his aged friend to his care, and, returning 
 his good wishes, he motioned to David to pro- 
 ceed. Hawk-eye gazed after the high-spirited 
 and adventurous young man for several moments, 
 in open admiration ; then shaking his head doubt- 
 ingly, he turned, and led his own division of the 
 party into the concealment of the forest. 
 
 The route taken by Duncan and David lay 
 directly across the clearing of the beavers, and 
 along the margin of their pond. 
 
 When the former found himself alone with 
 one so simple, and so little qualified to render 
 any assistance in desperate emergencies, he first 
 began to be sensible of the difficulties of the task 
 he had undertaken. The fading light increased 
 the gloominess of the bleak and savage wilder- 
 ness that stretched so far on every side of him ; 
 and there was even a fearful character in the 
 stillness of those little huts, that he knew were so 
 abundantly peopled. It struck him, as he gazed 
 at the admirable structures and the wonderful 
 precautions of their sagacious inmates, that even 
 the brutes of these vast wilds were possessed 
 of an instinct nearly commensurate with his 
 own reason ; and he could not reflect, without 
 anxiety, on the unequal contest that he bad so 
 rashly courted. Then came the glowing image 
 of Alice ; her distress ; her actual danger ; and 
 all the peril of his situation was forgotten. 
 Cheering David, he moved on with the light and 
 vigorous step of youth and enterprise. 
 
 After making nearly a semicircle around the 
 pond, they diverged from the water-course, and 
 began to ascend to the level of a slight elevation 
 in that bottom-land over which they journeyed. 
 Within half an hour they gained the margin of 
 another opening that bore all the signs of having 
 been also made by the beavers, and which those 
 sagacious animals had probably been induced, by 
 some accident, to abandon, for the more eligible 
 position they now occupied. A very natural sen- 
 sation caused Duncan to hesitate a moment, un- 
 willing to leave the cover of their bushy path, as 
 a man pauses to collect his energies before he es- 
 says any hazardous experiment, in which he is 
 secretly conscious that they will all be needed. He 
 
“THE TENTS OF THE PHILISTINES. 1 
 
 115 
 
 profited by the halt, to gather such information 
 as might be obtained from his short and hasty 
 glances. 
 
 On the opposite side of the clearing, and near 
 the point where the brook tumbled over some 
 rocks, from a still higher level, some fifty or sixty 
 lodges, rudely fabricated of logs, brush, and 
 earth intermingled, were to be discovered. They 
 were arranged without any order, and seemed to 
 be constructed with very little attention to neat- 
 ness or beauty. Indeed, so very inferior were 
 they in the two latter particulars to the village 
 Duncan had just seen, that he began to expect a 
 second surprise, no less astonishing than the for- 
 mer. This expectation was in no degree dimin- 
 ished, when, by the doubtful twilight, he beheld 
 twenty or thirty forms rising alternately from the 
 cover of the tall, coarse grass, in front of the 
 ;odges, and then sinking again from the sight, as 
 it were to burrow in the earth. By the sudden 
 and hasty glimpses that he caught of these fig- 
 ures, they seemed more like dark-glancing spec- 
 tres, or some other unearthly beings, than crea- 
 tures fashioned with the ordinary and vulgar 
 materials of flesh and blood. A gaunt, naked 
 form was seen, for a single instant, tossing its 
 arms wildly in the air, and then the spot it had 
 filled was vacant ; the figure appearing suddenly 
 in some other and distant place, or being suc- 
 ceeded by another, possessing the same mysteri- 
 ous character. David, observing that his com- 
 panion lingered, pursued the direction of his gaze, 
 and in some measure recalled the recollection of 
 Heyward, by speaking. 
 
 “ There is much fruitful soil uncultivated 
 here,” he said ; “ and I may add, without the sin- 
 ful leaven of self-commendation, that, since my 
 short sojourn in these heathenish abodes, much 
 good seed has been scattered by the wayside.” 
 
 “ The tribes are fonder of the chase than of 
 the arts of men of labor,” returned the uncon- 
 scious Duncan, still gazing at the objects of his 
 wonder. 
 
 “ It is rather joy than labor to the spirit, to 
 lift up the voice in praise ; but sadly do these 
 boys abuse their gifts. Rarely have I found any 
 of their age, on whom Nature has so freely be- 
 stowed the elements of psalmody; and surely, 
 surely, there are none who neglect them more. 
 Three nights have I now tarried here, and three 
 several times have I assembled the urchins to 
 join in sacred song ; and as often have they re- 
 sponded to my efforts with whoopings and howl- 
 mgs that have chilled my soul ! ” 
 
 “Of whom speak you ? ” 
 
 “ Of those children of the devil, who waste 
 
 the precious moments in yonder idle antics. : Ah ! 
 the wholesome restraint of discipline is but little 
 known among this self-abandoned people. In a 
 country of birches a rod is never seen ; and it 
 ought not to appear a marvel in my eyes, that 
 the choicest blessings of Providence are wasted 
 in such cries as these.” 
 
 David closed his ears against the juvenile 
 pack, whose yell just then rang shrilly through 
 the forest ; and Duncan, suffering his lip to curl, 
 as in mockery of his own superstition, said 
 firmly — 
 
 “We will proceed.” 
 
 Without removing the safeguards from his 
 ears, the master of song complied, and together 
 they pursued their way toward what David was 
 sometimes wont to call “the tents of the Philis- 
 tines.” 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 “ But though the beast of game 
 
 The privilege of chase may claim ; 
 
 Though space and law the stag we lend. 
 
 Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend ; 
 
 Who ever recked, where, how, or when 
 The prowling fox was trapped or slain ? ” 
 
 Lady of the Laxk 
 
 It is unusual to find an encampment of the 
 natives, like those of the more instructed whites, 
 guarded by the presence of armed men. Well 
 informed of the approach of every danger, while 
 it is yet at a distance, the Indian generally rests 
 secure under his knowledge of the signs of the 
 forest, and the long and difficult paths that sep- 
 arate him from those he has most reason to 
 dread. But the enemy who, by any lucky con- 
 currence of accidents, has found means to elude 
 the vigilance of the scouts, will seldom meet with 
 sentinels nearer home to sound the alarm. In 
 addition to this general usage, the tribes friendly 
 to the French knew too well the weight of the 
 blow that had just been struck, to apprehend 
 any immediate danger from the hostile nations 
 that were tributary to the crown of Britain. 
 
 When Duncan and David, therefore, found 
 themselves in the centre of the children, who 
 played the antics already mentioned, it was with- 
 out the least previous intimation of their ap- 
 proach. But as soon as they were observed, the 
 whole of the juvenile pack raised, by common 
 consent, a shrill and warning whoop ; and then 
 sank, as it were, by magic, from before the sight 
 of their visitors. The naked, tawny bodies of the 
 crouching urchins blended so nicely, at that 
 
116 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 hour, with the withered herbage, that at first it 
 seemed as if the earth had, in truth, swallowed 
 up their forms ; though when surprise permitted 
 Duncan to bend his look more curiously about 
 the spot, he found it everywhere met by dark, 
 quick, and rolling eyeballs. 
 
 Gathering no encouragement from this star- 
 tling presage of the nature of the scrutiny he was 
 likely to undergo from the more mature judg- 
 ments of the men, there was an instant when the 
 young soldier would have retreated. It was, how- 
 ever, too late to appear to hesitate. The cry of 
 the children bad drawn a dozen warriors to the 
 door of the nearest lodge, where they stood 
 clustered in a dark and savage group, gravely 
 awaiting the nearer approach of those who had 
 unexpectedly come among them. 
 
 David, in some measure familiarized to the 
 scene, led the way with a steadiness that no 
 slight obstacle was likely to disconcert into this 
 very building. It was the principal edifice of 
 the village, though roughly constructed of the 
 bark and branches of trees ; being the lodge in 
 which the tribe held its councils and public 
 meetings during their temporary residence on the 
 borders of the English province. Duncan found 
 it difficult to assume the necessary appearance of 
 unconcern as he brushed the dark and powerful 
 frames of the savages who thronged its thresh- 
 old ; but, conscious that his existence depended 
 on his presence of mind, he trusted to the dis- 
 cretion of his companion, whose footsteps he 
 closely followed, endeavoring, as he proceeded, to 
 rally his thoughts for the occasion. His blood 
 curdled when he found himself in absolute con- 
 tact with such fierce and implacable enemies; 
 but he so far mastered his feelings as to pursue 
 his way into the centre of the lodge with an ex- 
 terior that did not betray the weakness. Imitat- 
 ing the example of the deliberate Gamut, he drew 
 a bundle of fragrant brush from beneath a pile 
 that filled a corner of the hut, and seated himself 
 in silence. 
 
 As soon as their visitor had passed, the ob- 
 servant warriors fell back from the entrance, and, 
 arranging themselves about him, they seemed 
 patiently to await the moment when it might 
 comport with the dignity of the stranger to 
 speak. By far the greater number stood leaning, 
 in lazy, lounging attitudes, against the upright 
 posts that supported the crazy building, while 
 three or four of the oldest and most distinguished 
 of the chiefs placed themselves on the earth a 
 little more in advance. 
 
 A flaring torch was burning in the place, and 
 wait its red glare from face to face and figure to 
 
 figure as it waved in the currents of air. Duncan 
 profited by its light to read the probable charac- 
 ter of his reception in the countenances of his 
 hosts. But his ingenuity availed him little against 
 the cold artifices of the people he had encountered. 
 The chiefs in front scarce cast a glance at his 
 person, keeping their eyes on the ground with an 
 air that might have been intended for respect, 
 but which it was quite easy to construe into dis- 
 trust. The men in shadow were less reserved. 
 Duncan soon detected their searching but stolen 
 looks, which, in truth, scanned his person and 
 attire inch by inch ; leaving no emotion of the 
 countenance, no gesture, no line of the paint, 
 nor even the fashion of a garment, unheeded and 
 without comment. 
 
 At length one whose hair was beginning to be 
 sprinkled with gray, but whose sinewy limbs and 
 firm tread announced that he was still equal to 
 the duties of manhood, advanced out of the gloom 
 of a corner, whither he had probably posted him- 
 se.lf to make his observations unseen, and spoke. 
 He used the language of the Wyandots, or Hu- 
 rons ; his words were, consequently, unintelli- 
 gible to Heyward, though they seemed, by the 
 gestures that accompanied them, to be uttered 
 more in courtesy than anger. The latter shook 
 his head, and made a gesture indicative of his 
 inability to reply. 
 
 “ Do none of my brothers speak the French 
 or the English ? ” he said, in the former language, 
 looking about him from countenance to counte- 
 nance, in hopes of finding a nod of assent. 
 
 Though more than one had turned, as if to 
 catch the meaning of his words, they remained 
 unanswered. 
 
 “ I should be grieved to think,” continued 
 Duncan, speaking slowly, and using the simplest 
 French of which he was the master, “ to believe 
 that none of this wise and brave nation under- 
 stand the language that the ‘ Grand Monarque ’ 
 uses when he talks to his children. His heart 
 would be heavy did he believe his red warriors 
 paid him so little respect ! ” 
 
 A long and grave pause succeeded, during 
 which no movement of a limb nor any expression 
 of an eye betrayed the impression produced by 
 his remark. Duncan, who knew that silence was 
 a virtue among his hosts, gladly had recourse 
 to the custom in order to arrange his ideas. At 
 length the same warrior w r lio had before ad- 
 dressed him, replied by dryly demanding, in the 
 language of the Canadas : 
 
 “ When our Great Father speaks to his peo- 
 ple, is it with the tongue of a Huron ? ” 
 
 “ He knows no difference in his children 
 
RUNNING THE GANTLET. 
 
 11 ? 
 
 whether the color of the skin be red, or black, or 
 white,” returned Duncan, evasively ; “ though 
 chiefly is he satisfied with the brave Hurons.” 
 
 “ In what manner will he speak,” demanded 
 the wary chief, “ when the runners count to him 
 the scalps which five nights ago grew on the 
 heads of the Yengeese ? ” 
 
 « They were his enemies,” said Duncan, 
 shuddering involuntarily ; “ and, doubtless, he 
 will say, ‘ It is good— my Hurons are very gal- 
 lant.’ ” 
 
 “ Our Canada father does not think it. In- 
 stead of looking forward to reward his Indians, 
 his eyes are turned backward. He sees the dead 
 Yengeese, but no Huron. What can this mean ? ” 
 
 “ A great chief, like him, has more thoughts 
 than tongues. He looks to see that no enemies 
 are on his trail.” 
 
 “ The canoe of a dead warrior will not float 
 on the Horican,” returned the savage, gloomily. 
 “ His ears are open to the Delawares, who are not 
 our friends, and they fill them with lies.” 
 
 “ It cannot be. See ; he has bid me, who am 
 a man that knows the art of healing, to go to his 
 children, the red Hurons of the great lakes, and 
 ask if any are sick ! ” 
 
 Another silence succeeded this annunciation 
 of the character Duncan had assumed. Every 
 eye was simultaneously bent on his person, as if 
 to inquire into the truth or falsehood of the dec- 
 laration, with an intelligence and keenness that 
 caused the subject of their scrutiny to tremble 
 for the result. He was, however, relieved again 
 by the former speaker. 
 
 “ Do the cunning men of the Canadas paint 
 their skins ? ” the Huron coldly continued ; “ we 
 have heard them boast that their faces were 
 pale.” 
 
 “When an Indian chief comes among his 
 white fathers,” returned Duncan, with great 
 steadiness, “ he lays aside his buffalo-robe to 
 carry the shirt that is offered him. My brothers 
 have given me paint, and I wear it.” 
 
 A low murmur of applause announced that 
 the compliment to the tribe was favorably re- 
 ceived. The elderly chief made a gesture of 
 commendation, which was answered by most of 
 his companions, who each threw forth a hand 
 and uttered a brief exclamation of pleasure. 
 Duncan began to breathe more freely, believing 
 that the weight of his examination was past ; and, 
 as he had already prepared a simple and proba- 
 ble tale to support his pretended occupation, his 
 hopes of ultimate success grew brighter. 
 
 After a silence of a few moments, as if ad- 
 justing his thoughts in order to make a suitable 
 
 answer to the declaration their guest had just 
 given, another warrior arose and placed himself 
 in an attitude to speak. While his lips were yet 
 in the act of parting, a low but fearful sound 
 arose from the forest, and was immediately suc- 
 ceeded by a high, shrill yell, that was drawn out 
 until it equalled the longest and most plaintive 
 howl of the wolf. The sudden and terrible inter- 
 ruption caused Duncan to start from his seat, 
 unconscious of any thing but the effect produced 
 by so frightful a cry. At the same moment the 
 warriors glided in a body from the lodge, and the 
 outer air was filled with loud shouts that nearly 
 drowned those awful sounds which were still 
 ringing beneath the arches of the woods. Unable 
 to command himself any longer, the youth broke 
 from the place, and presently stood in the centre 
 of a disorderly throng that included nearly every 
 thing having life within the limits of the encamp- 
 ment. Men, women, and children ; the aged, the 
 infirm, the active, and the strong, were alike 
 abroad ; some exclaiming aloud, others clapping 
 their hands with a joy that seemed frantic, and 
 all expressing their savage pleasure in some unex- 
 pected event. Though astounded at first by the 
 uproar, Heyward was soon enabled to find its 
 solution by the scene that followed. 
 
 There yet lingered sufficient light in the 
 heavens to exhibit those bright openings among 
 the tree-tops, where different paths left the clear- 
 ing to enter the depths of the wilderness. Be- 
 neath one of them a line of warriors issued from 
 the woods, and advanced slowly toward the 
 dwellings. One in front bore a short pole, on 
 which, as it afterward appeared, were suspended 
 several human scalps. The startling sounds that 
 Duncan had heard were what the whites have, not 
 inappropriately, called the “ death-halloo ; ” and 
 each repetition of the cry was intended to an- 
 nounce to the tribe the fate of an enemy. Thus 
 far the knowledge of Heyward assisted him in the 
 explanation ; and, as he now knew that the inter- 
 ruption was caused by the unlooked-for return 
 of a successful war-party, every disagreeable sen- 
 sation was quieted in inward congratulations for 
 the opportune relief and insignificance it conferred 
 on himself. 
 
 When at the distance of a few hundred feet 
 from the lodges, the newly - arrived warriors 
 halted. Their plaintive and terrific cry, which 
 was intended to represent equally the wailings of 
 the dead and the triumph of the victors, had en- 
 tirely ceased. One of their number now called 
 aloud, in words that were far from appalling, 
 though not more intelligible to those for whose 
 ears they were intended than their expressive 
 
118 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 yells. It would be difficult to convey a suitable 
 idea of the savage ecstasy with which the news 
 thus imparted was received. The whole encamp- 
 ment, in a moment, became a scene of the most 
 violent bustle and commotion. The warriors 
 drew their knives, and, flourishing them, they 
 arranged thems elves in two lines, forming a lane 
 that extended from the war-party to the lodges* 
 The squaws seized clubs, axes, or whatever weap- 
 on of offence first offered itself to their hands? 
 and rushed eagerly to act their part in the cruel 
 game that was at hand. Even the children 
 would not be excluded ; but boys, little able to 
 wield the instruments, tore the tomahawks from 
 the belts of their fathers and stole into the ranks, 
 apt imitators of the savage traits exhibited by 
 their parents. 
 
 Large piles of brush lay scattered about the 
 clearing, and a wary and aged squaw was occu- 
 pied in firing as many as might serve to light the 
 coming exhibition. As the flame arose, its pow- 
 er exceeded that of the parting day, and assisted 
 to render objects at the same time more distinct 
 and more hideous. The whole scene formed a 
 striking picture, whose frame was composed of 
 the dark and tall border of pines. The warriors 
 just arrived were the most distant figures. A 
 little in advance stood two men, who were ap- 
 parently selected from the rest as the principal 
 actors in' what was to follow. The light was not 
 strong enough to render their features distinct, 
 though it was quite evident that they were 
 governed by very different emotions. While one 
 stood erect and firm, prepared to meet his fate 
 like a hero, the other bowed his head, as if 
 palsied by terror or stricken with shame. The 
 high-spirited Duncan felt a powerful impulse of 
 admiration and pity toward the former, though 
 no opportunity could offer to exhibit his generous 
 emotions. He watched his slightest movement, 
 however, with eager eyes ; and, as he traced the 
 fine outline of his admirably - proportioned and 
 active frame, he endeavored to persuade himself 
 that if the powers of man, seconded by such 
 noble resolution, could bear one harmless through 
 so severe a trial, the youthful captive before him 
 might hope for success in the hazardous race he 
 was about to run. Insensibly the young man 
 drew nigher to the swarthy lines of the Hurons, 
 and scarcely breathed, so intense became his inter- 
 est in the spectacle. Just then the signal-yell 
 was given, and the momentary quiet which had 
 preceded it was broken by a burst of cries that 
 far exceeded any before heard. The most abject 
 of the two victims continued motionless ; but the 
 other bounded from the place at the cry with the 
 
 activity and swiftness of a deer. Instead of 
 rushing through the hostile lines, as had been 
 expected, he just entered the dangerous defile, 
 and before time was given for a single blow, 
 turned short, and, leaping the heads of a row of 
 children, he gained at once the exterior and safer 
 side of the formidable array. The artifice was 
 answered by a hundred voices raised in impre- 
 cations ; and the whole of the excited multitude 
 broke from their order and spread themselves 
 about the place in wild confusion. 
 
 A dozen blazing piles now shed their lurid 
 brightness on the place, which resembled some 
 unhallowed and supernatural arena, in which ma- 
 licious demons had assembled to act their bloody 
 and lawless rites. The forms in the background 
 looked like unearthly beings, gliding before the 
 eye, and cleaving the air with frantic and unmean- 
 ing gestures ; while the savage passions of such 
 as passed the flames, were rendered fearfully dis- 
 tinct by the gleams that shot athwart their in- 
 flamed visages. 
 
 It will easily be understood that, amid such a 
 concourse of vindictive enemies, no breathing- 
 time was allowed the fugitive. There was a single 
 moment when it seemed as if he would have 
 reached the forest, but the whole body of his cap- 
 tors threw themselves before him, and drove him 
 back into the centre of his relentless persecutors. 
 Turning like a headed deer, he shot, with the 
 swiftness of an arrow, through a pillar of forked 
 flame, and, passing the whole multitude harmless, 
 he appeared on the opposite side of the clearing. 
 Here too he was met and turned by a few of the 
 older and more subtle of the Hurons. Once more 
 he tried the throng, as if seeking safety in its 
 blindness, and then several moments succeeded, 
 during which Duncan believed the active and 
 courageous young stranger was lost. 
 
 Nothing could be distinguished but a dark 
 mass of human forms tossed and involved in in- 
 explicable confusion. Arms, gleaming knives, 
 and formidable clubs, appeared above them, but 
 the blows were evidently given at random. The 
 awful effect was heightened by the piercing shrieks 
 of the women and the fierce yells of the warriors. 
 Now and then Duncan caught a glimpse of a light 
 form cleaving the air in some desperate bound, 
 and he rather hoped than believed that the cap- 
 tive yet retained the command of his astonishing 
 powers of activity. Suddenly the multitude rolled 
 backward, and approached the spot where he 
 himself stood. The heavy body in the rear 
 pressed upon the women and children in front, 
 and bore them to the earth. The stranger re- 
 appeared in the confusion. Human power could 
 
UNCAS IN HIS STRUGGLE FOR LIFE. 
 
 119 
 
 fcot, however, much longer endure so severe a 
 trial. Of this the captive seemed conscious. 
 Profiting by the momentary opening; he darted 
 from among the warriors, and made a desperate, 
 and, what seemed to Duncan, a final effort to 
 gain the wood. As if aware that no danger was 
 to be apprehended from the young soldier, the 
 fugitive nearly brushed his person in his flight. 
 A tall and powerful Huron, who had husbanded 
 his forces, pressed close upon his heels, and with 
 an uplifted arm menaced a fatal blow. Duncan 
 thrust forth a foot, and the shock precipitated the 
 eager savage headlong, many feet in advance of 
 his intended victim. Thought itself is not quicker 
 than was the motion with which the latter profited 
 by the advantage; he turned, gleamed like a 
 meteor again before the eyes of Duncan, and at 
 the next moment, when the latter recovered his 
 recollection, and gazed around in quest of the 
 captive, he saw him quietly leaning against a small 
 painted post, which stood before the door of the 
 principal lodge. 
 
 Apprehensive that the part he had taken in 
 the escape might prove fatal to himself, Duncan 
 left the place without delay. He followed the 
 crowd, which drew nigh the lodges, gloomy and 
 Bullen, like any other multitude that had been 
 disappointed in an execution. Curiosity, or per- 
 haps a better feeling, induced him to approach 
 the stranger. He found him, standing with one 
 arm cast about the protecting post, and breathing 
 thick and hard, after his exertions, but disdaining 
 to permit a single sign of suffering to escape. 
 His person was now protected by immemorial and 
 sacred usage, until the tribe in council had de- 
 liberated and determined on his fate. It was not 
 difficult, however, to foretell the result, if any pres- 
 age could be drawn from the feelings of those 
 who crowded the place. 
 
 There was no term of abuse known to the Hu- 
 ron vocabulary that the disappointed women did 
 not lavishly expend on the successful stranger. 
 They flouted at his efforts, and told him, with bitter 
 scoffs, that his feet were better than his hands ; 
 and that he merited wings, while he knew not the 
 use of an arrow or a knife. To all this the cap- 
 tive made no reply ; but was content to preserve 
 an attitude in which dignity was singularly blended 
 with disdain. Exasperated as much by his com- 
 posure as by his good fortune, their words became 
 unintelligible, and were succeeded by shrill, pier- 
 cing yells. Just then the crafty squaw, who had 
 taken the necessary precaution to fire the piles, 
 made her way through the throng, and cleared a 
 place for herself in front of the captive. The 
 squalid and withered person of this hag might 
 
 well have obtained for her the character of pos- 
 sessing more than human cunning. Throwing 
 back her light vestment, she stretched forth her 
 long skinny arm, in derision, and using the lan- 
 guage of the Lenape, as more intelligible to the 
 subject of her gibes, she commenced aloud : 
 
 “ Look you, Delaware ! ” she said, snapping her 
 fingers in his face ; “ your nation is a race of 
 women, and the hoe is better fitted to your hands 
 than the gun. Your squaws are the mothers of 
 deer ; but if a bear, or a wild-cat, or a serpent, 
 were born among you, ye would flee. The Huron 
 girls shall make you petticoats, and we will find 
 you a husband.” 
 
 A burst of savage laughter succeeded this 
 attack, during which the soft and musical merri- 
 ment of the younger females strangely chimed 
 with the cracked voice of their older and more 
 malignant companion. But the stranger was 
 superior to all their efforts. His head was im- 
 movable; nor did he betray the slightest con- 
 sciousness that any were present, except when his 
 haughty eye rolled toward the dusky forms of the 
 warriors, who stalked in the background, silent 
 and sullen observers of the scene. 
 
 Infuriated at the self-command of the captive, 
 the woman placed her arms akimbo ; and throw- 
 ing herself into a posture of defiance, she broke 
 out anew, in a torrent of words that no art of ours 
 could commit successfully to paper. Her breath 
 was, however, expended in vain ; for, although 
 distinguished in her nation as a proficient in the 
 art of abuse, she was permitted to work herself 
 into such a fury as actually to foam at the mouth, 
 without causing a muscle to vibrate in the mo- 
 tionless figure of the stranger. The effect of his 
 indifference began to extend itself to the other 
 spectators ; and a youngster, who was just quit- 
 ting the condition of a boy, to enter the state of 
 manhood, attempted to assist the termagant, by 
 flourishing his tomahawk before their victim, and 
 adding his empty boasts to the taunts of the 
 woman. Then, indeed, the captive turned his 
 face toward the light, and looked down on the 
 stripling with an expression that was superior to 
 contempt. At the next moment he resumed his 
 quiet and reclining attitude against the post. But 
 the change of posture had permitted Duncan to 
 exchange glances with the firm and piercing eyes 
 of Uncas. 
 
 Breathless with amazement, and heavily op- 
 pressed with the critical situation of his friend, 
 Heyward recoiled before the look, trembling lest 
 its meaning might, in some unknown manner, 
 hasten the prisoner’s fate. There was not, how- 
 ever, any instant cauoe for such an apprehension. 
 
120 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 Just then a warrior forced his way into the ex- 
 asperated crowd. Motioning the women and 
 children aside with a stern gesture, he took Un- 
 cas oy the arm, and led him toward the door of 
 the council-lodge. Thither all the chiefs, and 
 most of the distinguished warriors, followed; 
 among whom the anxious Heyward found means 
 to enter without attracting any dangerous atten- 
 tion to himself. 
 
 A few minutes were consumed in disposing 
 of those present in a manner suitable to their 
 rank and influence in the tribe. An order very 
 similar to that adopted in the preceding inter- 
 view was observed ; the aged and superior chiefs 
 occupying the area of the spacious apartment, 
 within the powerful light of a glaring torch, 
 while their juniors and inferiors were arranged 
 in the background, presenting a dark outline of 
 swarthy and marked visages. In the very cen- 
 tre of the lodge, immediately under an opening 
 that admitted the twinkling light of one or two 
 stars, stood Uncas — calm, elevated, and collected. 
 His high and haughty carriage was not lost on 
 his captors, who often bent their looks on his 
 person, with eyes which, while they lost none of 
 their inflexibility of purpose, plainly betrayed 
 their admiration of the stranger’s daring. 
 
 The case was different with the individual 
 whom Duncan had observed to stand forth with 
 his friend, previously to the desperate trial of 
 speed ; and who, instead of joining in the chase, 
 had remained, throughout its turbulent uproar, 
 like a cringing statue, expressive of shame and 
 disgrace. Though not a hand had been extended 
 to greet him, nor yet an eye had condescended to 
 watch his movements, he had also entered the 
 lodge, as though impelled by a fate to whose de- 
 crees he submitted, seemingly, without a struggle. 
 Heyward profited by the first opportunity to gaze 
 in his face, secretly apprehensive he might find 
 the features of another acquaintance ; but they 
 proved to be those of a stranger, and, what was 
 still more inexplicable, of one who bore all the 
 distinctive marks of a Huron warrior. Instead 
 of mingling with his tribe, however, he sat apart, 
 a solitary being in a multitude, his form shrink- 
 ing into a crouching and abject attitude, as if 
 anxious to fill as little space as possible. When 
 each individual had taken his proper station, and 
 silence reigned in the place, the gray-haired chief 
 already introduced to the reader spoke aloud, in 
 the language of the Lenni Lenape : 
 
 “ Delaware,” he said, “ though one of a na- 
 tion of women, you have proved yourself a man. 
 [ would give you food ; but he who eats with a 
 Huron should become his friend. Rest in peace 
 
 till the morning sun, when our last words sn&ll 
 be spoken.” 
 
 “ Seven nights, and as many summer days, 
 have I fasted on the trail of the Hurons,” Uncas 
 coldly replied; “the children of the Lenape 
 know how to travel the path of the just without 
 lingering to eat.” 
 
 “ Two of my young men are in pursuit of you 
 companion,” resumed the other, without appear - 1 
 ing to regard the boast of his captive ; “ when 
 they get back, then will our wise men say to you, 
 
 ‘ Live or die.’ ” 
 
 “ Has a Huron no ears ? ” scornfully ex- 
 claimed Uncas ; “ twice, since he has been your 
 prisoner, has the Delaware heard a gun that he 
 knows. Your young men will never come back.” 
 
 A short and sullen pause succeeded this bold 
 assertion. Duncan, who understood the Mohican 
 to allude to the fatal rifle of the scout, bent for- 
 ward in earnest observation of the effect it might 
 produce on the conquerors ; but the chief was 
 content with simply retorting : 
 
 “If the Lenape are so skilful, why is one of 
 their bravest warriors here ? ” 
 
 “ He followed in the steps of a flying coward, 
 and fell into a snare. The cunning beaver may 
 be caught.” 
 
 As Uncas thus replied, he pointed with his 
 finger toward the solitary Huron, but without 
 deigning to bestow any other notice on so unwor- 
 thy an object. The words of the answer and the 
 air of the speaker produced a strong sensation 
 among his auditors. Every eye rolled sullenly 
 toward the individual indicated by the simple 
 gesture, and a low, threatening murmur passed 
 through the crowd. The ominous sounds reached 
 the outer door, and, the women and children 
 pressing into the throng, no gap had been left, 
 between shoulder and shoulder, that was not now 
 filled with the dark lineaments of some eager and 
 curious human countenance. 
 
 In the mean time, the more aged chiefs, in the 
 centre, communed with each other in short and 
 broken sentences. Not a word was uttered that 
 did not convey the meaning of the speaker, in 
 the simplest and most energetic form. Again, a 
 long and deeply-solemn pause took place. It was 
 known, by all present, to be the grave precursor 
 of a weighty and important judgment. They 
 who composed the outer circle of faces were on 
 tiptoe to gaze ; and even the culprit for an in- 
 stant forgot his shame in a deeper emotion, and 
 exposed his abject features, in order to cast an 
 anxious and troubled glance at the dark assem- 
 blage of chiefs. The silence was finally broken 
 by the aged warrior so often named. He arose 
 
DEATH OF A HURON WARRIOR. 
 
 121 
 
 from the earth, and moving past the immovable 
 form of Uncas, placed himself in a dignified atti- 
 tude before the offender. At that moment, the 
 withered squaw already mentioned moved into 
 the circle, in a slow, sideling sort of a dance, 
 hold in g the torch, and muttering the indistinct 
 words of what might have been a species of in- 
 cantation. Though her presence was altogether 
 an intrusion, it was unheeded. 
 
 Approaching Uncas, she held the blazing 
 brand in such a manner as to cast its red glare 
 on his person, and to expose the slightest emo- 
 tion of his countenance. The Mohican main- 
 tained his firm and haughty attitude ; and his eye, 
 so far from deigning to meet her inquisitive look, 
 dwelt steadily on the distance, as though it pene- 
 trated the obstacles which impeded the view, and 
 looked into futurity. Satisfied with her examina- 
 tion, she left him, with a slight expression of 
 pleasure, and proceeded to practise the same try- 
 ing experiment on her delinquent countryman. 
 
 The young Huron was in his war-paint, and 
 very little of a finely-moulded form was concealed 
 t>y his attire. The light rendered every limb and 
 joint discernible, and Duncan turned away in 
 horror when he saw they were writhing in irre- 
 pressible agony. The woman was commencing a 
 low and plaintive howl at the sad and shameful 
 spectacle, when the chief put forth his hand and 
 gently pushed her aside. 
 
 “ Reed-that-bends,” he said, addressing the 
 young culprit by name, and in his proper lan- 
 guage, “ though the Great Spirit has made you 
 pleasant to the eyes, it would have been better 
 that you had not been born. Your tongue is 
 loud in the village, but in battle it is still. None 
 of my young men strike the tomahawk deeper 
 into the war-post — none of them so lightly on 
 the Yengeese. The enemy know the shape of 
 your back, but they have never seen the color of 
 your eyes. Three times have they called on you 
 to come, and as often did you forget to answer. 
 Your name will never be mentioned again in your 
 tribe — it is already forgotten.” 
 
 As the chief slowly uttered these words, paus- 
 ing impressively between each sentence, the culprit 
 raised his face, in deference to the other’s rank 
 and years. Shame, horror, and pride, struggled 
 in its lineaments. His eye, which was contracted 
 with inward anguish, gleamed on the persons of 
 those whose breath was his fame ; and the latter 
 emotion for an instant predominated. He arose 
 to his feet, and, baring his bosom, looked steadily 
 on the keen, glittering knife, that was already 
 upheld oy his inexorable judge. As the weapon 
 passed slowly into his heart he even smiled, as if 
 
 in joy at having found death less dreadful than 
 he had anticipated, and fell heavily on his face, 
 at the feet of the rigid and unyielding form of 
 Uncas. 
 
 The squaw gave a loud and plaintive yell, 
 dashed the torch to the earth, and buried every 
 thing in darkness. The whole shuddering group 
 of spectators glided from the lodge, like troubled 
 sprites ; and Duncan thought that he and the 
 yet throbbing body of the victim of an Indian 
 judgment had now become its only tenants. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 “Thus spoke the sago: the kings without delay 
 Dissolve the council, and their chief obey.” 
 
 Pope's Iliad. 
 
 A single moment served to convince the youth 
 that he was mistaken. A hand was laid, with a 
 powerful pressure, on his arm, and the low voice 
 of Uncas muttered in his ears — 
 
 “ The Hurons are dogs. The sight of a cow- 
 ard’s blood can never make a warrior tremble. 
 The ‘ Gray Head ’ and the sagamore are safe, and 
 the rifle of Hawk-eye is not asleep. Go — Uncas 
 and the ‘ Open hand ’ are now strangers. It is 
 enough.” 
 
 Heyward would gladly have heard more, but 
 a gentle push from his friend urged him toward 
 the door, and admonished him of the danger that 
 might attend the discovery of their intercourse. 
 Slowly and reluctantly yielding to the necessity, 
 he quitted the place, and mingled with the throng 
 that hovered nigh. The dying fires in the clear- 
 ing cast a dim and uncertain light on the dusky 
 figures that were silently stalking to and fro ; and 
 occasionally a brighter gleam than common glanced 
 into the lodge, and exhibited the figure of Uncas 
 still maintaining its upright attitude near the dead 
 body of the Huron. 
 
 A knot of warriors soon entered the place 
 again, and, reissuing, they bore the senseless re- 
 mains into the adjacent woods. After this ter- 
 mination of the scene, Duncan wandered among 
 the lodges, unquestioned and unnoticed, endeavor- 
 ing to find some trace of her in whose behalf he 
 incurred the risk he ran. In the present temper 
 of the tribe, it would have been easy to have fled 
 and rejoined his companions, had such a wish 
 crossed his mind. But, in addition to the never- 
 ceasing anxiety on account of Alice, a fresher, 
 though feebler interest in the fate of Uncas, as. 
 sisted to chain him to the spot. He continued, 
 therefore, to stray from hut to hut, looking into 
 
123 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 each only to encounter additional disappointment, 
 until he had made the entire circuit of the village. 
 Abandoning a species of inquiry that proved so 
 fruitless, he retraced his steps to the council-lodge, 
 resolved to seek and question David, in order to 
 put an end to his doubts. 
 
 On reaching the building which had proved 
 alike the seat of judgment and the place of exe- 
 cution, the young man found that the excitement 
 had already subsided. The warriors had reas- 
 sembled, and were now calmly smoking, while 
 they conversed gravely on the chief incidents of 
 their recent expedition to the head of the Horican. 
 Though the return of Duncan was likely to remind 
 them of his character, and the suspicious circum- 
 stances of his visit, it produced no visible sen- 
 sation. So far, the terrible scene that had just 
 occurred proved favorable to his views, and he 
 required no other prompter than his own feelings 
 to convince him of the expediency of profiting by 
 so unexpected an advantage. 
 
 Without seeming to hesitate, he walked into 
 the lodge, and took his seat with a gravity that 
 accorded admirably with the deportment of his 
 hosts. A hasty but searching glance sufficed to 
 tell him that, though Uncas still remained where 
 he had left him, David had not reappeared. No 
 other restraint was imposed on the former than 
 the watchful looks of a young Huron, who had 
 placed himself at hand ; though an armed warrior 
 leaned against the post that formed one side of 
 the narrow door-way. In every other respect, 
 the captive seemed at liberty; still he was ex- 
 cluded from all participation in the discourse, and 
 possessed much more of the air of some finely- 
 moulded statue, than a man having life and vo- 
 lition. 
 
 Heyward had too recently witnessed a fright- 
 ful instance of the prompt punishments of the 
 people into whose hands he had fallen, to hazard 
 an exposure by any officious boldness. He would 
 greatly have preferred silence and meditation to 
 speech, when a discovery of his real condition 
 might prove so instantly fatal. Unfortunately 
 for this prudent resolution, his entertainers ap- 
 peared otherwise disposed. He had not long oc- 
 cupied the seat wisely taken a little in the shade, 
 when another of the elder warriors, who spoke 
 the French language, addressed him : 
 
 “ My Canada father does not forget his chil- 
 dren,” said the chief; “I thank him. An evil 
 spirit lives in the wife of one of my young men. 
 Can the cunning stranger frighten him away ? ” 
 
 Heyward possessed some knowledge of the 
 mummery practised among the Indians, in the cases 
 of such supposed visitations. He saw, at a glance, 
 
 that the circumstance might possibly be improved 
 to further his own ends. It would, therefore, 
 have been difficult, just then, to have uttered a 
 proposal that would have given him more satis- 
 faction. Aware of the necessity of preserving the 
 dignity of his imaginary character, however, he re- 
 pressed his feelings, and answered with suitable 
 mystery : 
 
 “ Spirits differ ; some yield to the power of wis- 
 dom, while others are too strong.” 
 
 “ My brother is a great medicine,” said the cun- 
 ning savage ; “ he will try ? ” 
 
 A gesture of assent was the answer. The Hu- 
 ron was content with the assurance, and, resuming 
 his pipe, he awaited the proper moment to move. 
 The impatient Heyward, inwardly execrating the 
 cold customs of the savages, which required such 
 sacrifices to appearance, was fain to assume an air 
 of indifference, equal to that maintained by the 
 chief, who was, in truth, a near relative of the af- 
 flicted woman. The minutes lingered, and the de- 
 lay had seemed an hour to the adventurer in em- 
 piricism, when the Huron laid aside his pipe, and 
 drew his robe across his breast, as if about to lead 
 the way to the lodge of the invalid. Just then, a 
 warrior of powerful frame darkened the door, and 
 stalking silently among the attentive group, he 
 seated himself on one end of the low pile of brush 
 which sustained Duncan. The latter cast an im- 
 patient look at his neighbor, and felt his flesh creep 
 with uncontrollable horror when he found himself 
 in actual contact with Magua. 
 
 The sudden return of this artful and dreaded 
 chief caused a delay in the departure of the Huron. 
 Several pipes, that had been extinguished, were 
 lighted again ; while the new-comer, without speak- 
 ing a word, drew his tomahawk from his girdle, 
 and, filling the bowl on its head, began to inhale 
 the vapors of the weed through the hollow handle, 
 with as much indifference as if he had not been 
 absent two weary days on a long and toilsome 
 hunt. Ten minutes, which appeared so many 
 ages to Duncan, might have passed in this man 
 ner ; and the warriors were fairly enveloped in a 
 cloud of white smoke before any of them spoke 
 
 “ Welcome ! ” one at length uttered ; “ has my 
 friend found the moose ? ” 
 
 “The young men stagger under their bur 
 dens,” returned Magua. “ Let ‘ Reed-that-bends 
 go on the hunting-path ; he will meet them.” 
 
 A deep and awful silence succeeded the utter- 
 ance of the forbidden name. Each pipe dropped 
 from the lips of its owner as though all had in- 
 haled an impurity at the same instant. The 
 smoke wreathed above their heads in little eddies, 
 and, curling in a spiral form, it ascended swift It 
 
MAGUA’S ELOQUENCE. 
 
 123 
 
 through the evening in the roof of the lodge, 
 leaving the place beneath clear of its fumes, and 
 each dark visage distinctly visible. The looks of 
 most of the warriors were riveted on the earth ; 
 though a few of the younger and less gifted of the 
 party suffered their wild and glaring eyeballs to 
 roll in the direction of a white-headed savage, who 
 sat between two of the most venerated chiefs of 
 the tribe. There wa3 nothing in the air or attire 
 of this Indian that would seem to entitle him to 
 such a distinction. The former was rather de- 
 pressed, than remarkable for the bearing of the 
 natives ; and the latter was such as was common- 
 ly worn by the ordinary men of the nation. Like 
 most around him, for more than a minute his 
 look too was on the ground ; but, trusting his eyes 
 at length to steal a glance aside, he perceived that 
 he . was becoming an object of general attention. 
 Then he arose and lifted his voice in the general 
 silence. 
 
 “ It was a lie,” he said ; “ I had no son. He 
 who was called by that name is forgotten ; his 
 blood was pale, and it came not from the veins of 
 a Huron; the wicked Chippewas cheated my 
 squaw. The Great Spirit has said, that the family 
 of Wiss-en-tush should end — he is happy who 
 knows that the evil of his race dies with himself. 
 
 I have done.” 
 
 The speaker, who was the father of the recreant 
 young Indian, looked round and about him, as if 
 seeking commendation of his stoicism in the eyes 
 of his auditors. But the stern customs of his 
 people had made too severe an exaction of the 
 feeble old man. The expression of his eye con- 
 tradicted his figurative and boastful language, 
 while every muscle in his wrinkled visage was 
 working with anguish. Standing a single minute 
 to enjoy his bitter triumph, he turned away, as 
 if sickening at the gaze of men, and, veiling his 
 face in his blanket, he walked from the lodge 
 with the noiseless step of an Indian, seeking, in 
 the privacy of his own abode, the sympathy of 
 one like himself, aged, forlorn, and childless. 
 
 The Indians, who believe in the hereditary 
 transmission of virtues and defects in character, 
 suffered him to depart in silence. Then, with an 
 elevation of breeding that many in a more culti- 
 vated state of society might profitably emulate, 
 one of the chiefs drew the attention of the young 
 men from the weakness they had just witnessed, 
 by saying, in a cheerful voice, addressing himself 
 in courtesy to Magua, as the newest comer — 
 
 “The Delawares have been like bears after 
 the honey-pots, prowling around my village. But 
 who has ever found a Huron asleep ? ” 
 
 The darkness of the impending cloud which 
 
 precedes a burst of thunder was not blacker than 
 the brow of Magua as he exclaimed — 
 
 “ The Delawares of the lakes ! ” 
 
 “Not so. They who wear the petticoats of 
 squaws, on their own river. One of them has 
 been passing the tribe.” 
 
 “ Did my young men take his scalp ? ” 
 
 “ His legs were good, though his arm is better 
 for the hoe than the tomahawk,” returned the 
 other, pointing to the immovable form of Uncas. 
 
 Instead of manifesting any womanish curiosi- 
 ty to feast his eyes with the sight of a captive 
 from a people he was known to have so much 
 reason to hate, Magua continued to smoke, with 
 the meditative air that he usually maintained, 
 when there was no immediate call on his cunning 
 or his eloquence. Although secretly amazed at 
 the facts communicated by the speech of the aged 
 father, he permitted himself to ask no questions, 
 reserving his inquiries for a more suitable mo- 
 ment. It was only after a sufficient interval that 
 he shook the ashes from his pipe, replaced the 
 tomahawk, tightened his girdle, and arose, cast- 
 ing for the first time a glance in the direction of 
 the prisoner, who stood a little behind him. The 
 wary, though seemingly abstracted Uncas, caught 
 a glimpse of the movement, and, turning suddenly 
 to the light, their looks met. Near a minute 
 these two bold and untamed spirits stood regard- 
 ing one another steadily in the eye, neither quail- 
 ing in the least before the fierce gaze he encoun- 
 tered. The form of Uncas dilated, and his nos- 
 trils opened like those of a tiger at bay ; but so 
 rigid and unyielding was his posture, that he 
 might easily have been converted by the imagina- 
 tion into an exquisite and faultless representa- 
 tion of the warlike deity of his tribe. The linea- 
 ments of the quivering features of Magua proved 
 more ductile ; his countenance gradually lost its 
 character of defiance in an expression of ferocious 
 joy, and, heaving a breath from the very bottom 
 of his chest, he pronounced aloud the formidable 
 name of — 
 
 “ Le Cerf agile ! ” 
 
 Each warrior sprang upon his feet at the utter- 
 ance of the well-known appellation, and there was 
 a short period during which the stoical constancy 
 of the natives was completely conquered by sur- 
 prise. The hated and yet respected name was 
 repeated, as by. one voice, carrying the sound even 
 beyond the limits of the lodge. The women and 
 children, who lingered around the entrance, took 
 up the words in an echo, which was succeeded by 
 another shrill and plaintive howl. The latter was 
 not yet ended, when the sensation among the men 
 had entirely abated. Each one in presence scab 
 
124 
 
 THE LAST 01 THE MOHICANS. 
 
 ed himself, ts though ashamed of his precipita- 
 tion ; but it was many minutes before their mean- 
 ing eyes ceased to roll toward their captive, in 
 curious examination of a warrior who had so 
 often proved his prowess on the best and proud- 
 est of their nation. Uncas enjoyed his victory, 
 but was content with merely exhibiting his tri- 
 umph by a quiet smile — an emblem of scorn which 
 belongs to all time and every nation. 
 
 Magua caught the expression, and, raising his 
 arm, he shook it at the captive — the light silver 
 ornaments attached to his bracelet rattling with 
 the trembling agitation of the limb, as, in a tone 
 of vengeance, he exclaimed, in English — 
 
 “ Mohican, you die ! ” 
 
 “ The healing waters will never bring the dead 
 Hurons to life,” returned Uncas, in the music of 
 the Delawares ; “ the tumbling river washes their 
 bones ; their men are squaws ; their women owls. 
 Go— call together the Huron dogs, that they may 
 look upon a warrior. My nostrils are offended ; 
 they scent the blood of a coward.” 
 
 The latter allusion struck deep, and the in- 
 jury rankled. Many of the Hurons understood 
 the strange tongue in which the captive spoke, 
 among which number was Magua. This cunning 
 savage beheld, and instantly profited by his ad- 
 vantage. Dropping the light robe of skin from 
 his shoulders, he stretched forth his arm, and 
 commenced a burst of his dangerous and artful elo- 
 quence. However much his influence among his 
 people had been impaired by his occasional and 
 besetting weakness, as well as by his desertion of 
 the tribe, his courage and his fame as an orator 
 were undeniable. He never spoke without audi- 
 tors, and rarely without making converts to his 
 opinions. On the present occasion, his native 
 powers were stimulated by the thirst of re- 
 venge. 
 
 He again recounted the events of the attack 
 on the island at Glenn’s ; the death of his associ- 
 ates ; and the escape of their most formidable en- 
 emies. Then he described the nature and posi- 
 tion of the mount whither he had led such cap- 
 tives as had fallen into their hands. Of his own 
 bloody intentions toward the maidens, and of his 
 baffled malice, he made no mention, but passed 
 rapidly on to the surprise of the party by “ La 
 longue Carabine,” and its fatal termination. Here 
 he paused, and looked about him, in affected ven- 
 eration for the departed, but, in truth, to note 
 the effect of his opening narrative. As usual, 
 every eye was riveted on his face. Each dusky 
 figure seemed a breathing statue, so motionless 
 was the posture, so intense the attention of the 
 individual. 
 
 Then Magua dropped his voice, which had 
 hitherto been clear, strong, and elevated, and 
 touched upon the merits of the dead. No quality 
 that was likely to command the sympathy of an 
 Indian escaped his notice. One had never been 
 known to follow the chase in vain ; another had 
 been indefatigable on the trail of their enemies. 
 This was brave, that generous. In short, he so 
 managed his allusions that, in a nation which 
 was composed of so few families, he contrived to 
 strike every chord that might find, in its turn, 
 some breast in which to vibrate. 
 
 “ Are the bones of my young men,” he con- 
 cluded, “ in the burial-place of the Hurons ? You 
 know they are not. Their spirits are gone tow- 
 ard the setting sun, and are already crossing the 
 great waters, to the happy hunting-grounds. 
 But they departed without food, without guns 
 or knives, without moccasins, naked and poor 
 as they were born. Shall this be ? Are their 
 souls to enter the land of the just like hungry 
 Iroquois or unmanly Delawares; or shall they 
 meet their friends with arms in their hands and 
 robes on their backs ? What will our fathers 
 think the tribes of the Wyandots have become? 
 They will look on their children with a dark eye, 
 and say, ‘ Go ; a Chippewa has come hither with 
 the name of a Huron.’ Brothers, we must not 
 forget the dead ; a red-skin never ceases to re- 
 member. We will load the back of this Mohican 
 until he staggers under our bounty, and dispatch 
 him after my young men. They call to us for aid, 
 though our ears are not open ; they say, ‘ Forget 
 us not.’ When they see the spirit of this Mohi- 
 can toiling after them with his burden, they will 
 know we are of that mind. Then will they go 
 on happy ; and our children will say, ‘ So did 
 our fathers to their friends, so must we do to 
 them.’ What is a Yengee ? we have slain many, 
 but the earth is still pale. A stain on the name 
 of a Huron can only be hid by blood that comes 
 from the veins of an Indian. Let this Delaware 
 die ! ” 
 
 The effect of such an harangue, delivered in 
 the nervous language and with the emphatic man- 
 ner of a Huron orator, could scarcely be mis- 
 taken. Magua had so artfully blended the natu* 
 ral sympathies with the religious superstition of 
 his auditors, that their minds, already prepared 
 by custom to sacrifice a victim to the manes of 
 their countrymen, lost every vestige of humanity 
 in a wish for revenge. One warrior in particular, 
 a man of wild and ferocious mien, had been con- 
 spicuous for the attention he had given to the 
 words of the speaker. His countenance had 
 1 changed with each passing emotion, until it set 
 
HEYWARD AS AN INDIAN CONJURER. 
 
 125 
 
 tied into a look of deadly malice. As Magma 
 ended he arose, and, uttering the yell of a demon, 
 his polished little axe was seen glancing in the 
 torch-light as he whirled it above his head. The 
 motion and cry were too sudden for words to in- 
 terrupt his bloody intention. It appeared as if a 
 bright gleam shot from his hand, which was 
 crossed at the same moment by a dark and pow- 
 erful line. The former was the tomahawk in its 
 passage ; the latter, the arm that Magua darted 
 forward to divert its aim. The quick and ready 
 motion of the chief was not entirely too late. 
 The keen weapon cut the war-plume from the 
 scalping-tuft of Uncas, and passed through the 
 frail wall of the lodge as though it were hurled 
 from some formidable engine. 
 
 Duncan had seen the threatening action, and 
 sprang upon his feet, with a heart which, while 
 it leaped into his throat, swelled with the most 
 generous resolution in behalf of his friend. A 
 glance told him that the blow had failed, and ter- 
 ror changed to admiration. Uncas stood still, 
 looking his enemy in the eye with features that 
 seemed superior to emotion. Marble could not 
 be colder, calmer, or steadier, than the counte- 
 nance he put upon this sudden and vindictive at- 
 tack. Then, as if pitying a want of skill which 
 had proved so fortunate to himself, he smiled, 
 and muttered a few words of contempt in his own 
 tongue. 
 
 “ No ! ” said Magua, after satisfying himself 
 of the safety of the captive ; “ the sun must 
 shine on his shame ; the squaws must see his 
 flesh tremble, or our revenge will be like the play 
 of boys Go — take him where there is silence ; 
 let us see if a Delaware can sleep at night, and 
 in the morning die.” 
 
 The young men whose duty it was to guard 
 the prisoner, instantly passed their ligaments of 
 bark across his arms, and led him from the lodge, 
 amid a profound and ominous silence. It was 
 only as the figure of Uncas stood in the opening 
 of the door that his firm step hesitated. There 
 he turned, and, in the sweeping and haughty 
 glance that he threw around the circle of his 
 enemies, Duncan caught a look, which he was 
 glad to construe into an expression that he was 
 not entirely deserted by hope. 
 
 Magua was content with his success, or too 
 much occupied with his secret purposes, to push 
 his inquiries any further. Shaking his mantle, 
 and folding it on his bosom, he also quitted the 
 place, without pursuing a subject which might 
 have proved so fatal to the individual at his el- 
 bow. Notwithstanding his rising resentment, 
 his natural firmness, and his anxiety in behalf of 
 
 Uncas, Heyward felt sensibly relieved by the ab- 
 sence of so dangerous and subtle a foe. The ex- 
 citement produced by the speech gradually sub- 
 sided. The warriors resumed their seats, and 
 clouds of smoke once more filled the lodge. For 
 nearly half an hour, not a syllable was uttered, 
 or scarcely a look cast aside — a grave and medi- 
 tative silence being in the ordinary succession to 
 every scene of violence and commotion among 
 those beings, who were alike so impetuous and 
 yet so self-restrained. 
 
 When the chief who had solicited the aid of 
 Duncan finished his pipe, he made a final and 
 successful movement toward departing. A mo- 
 tion of a finger was the intimation he gave the sup- 
 posed physician to follow ; and, passing through 
 the clouds of smoke, Duncan was glad, on more 
 accounts than one, to be able, at last, to breathe 
 the pure air of a cool and refreshing summer 
 evening. 
 
 Instead of pursuing his way among those 
 lodges where Heyward had already made his un- 
 successful search, his companion turned aside, 
 and proceeded directly toward the base of an 
 adjacent mountain, which overhung the tempo- 
 rary village. A thicket of brush skirted its 
 foot, and it became necessary to proceed through 
 a crooked and narrow path. The boys had re- 
 sumed their sports in the clearing, and were en- 
 acting a mimic chase to the post among them- 
 selves. In order to render their games as like the 
 reality as possible, one of the boldest of their 
 number had conveyed a few brands into some 
 piles of tree-tops that had hitherto escaped the 
 burning. The blaze of one of these fires lighted 
 the way of the chief and Duncan, and gave a 
 character of additional wildness to the rude 
 scenery. At a little distance from a bald rock, 
 and directly in its front, they entered a grassy 
 opening, which they prepared to cross. Just 
 then fresh fuel was added to the fire, and a pow- 
 erful light penetrated even to that distant spot. 
 It fell upon the white surface of the mountain, 
 and was reflected downward upon a dark and 
 mysterious-looking being that arose, unexpected- 
 ly, in their path. 
 
 The Indian paused, as if doubtful whether to 
 proceed, and permitted his companion to ap- 
 proach his side. A large black ball, which at 
 first seemed stationary, now began to move in a 
 manner that to the latter was inexplicable. Again 
 the fire brightened, and its glare fell more dis- 
 tinctly on the object. Then even Duncan knew 
 it, by its restless and sideling attitudes, whicl 
 kept the upper part of its form in constant mo- 
 tion, while the animal itself appeared seated, to 
 
126 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 be a bear. Though it growled loudly and fiercely, 
 and there were instants when its glistening eye- 
 balls might be seen, it gave no other indications 
 of hostility. The Huron, at least, seemed as- 
 sured that the intentions of this singular intru- 
 der were peaceable, for, after giving it an atten- 
 tive examination, he quietly pursued his course. 
 
 Duncan, who knew that the animal was often 
 domesticated among the Indians, followed the 
 example of his companion, believing that some 
 favorite of the tribe had found its way into the 
 thicket, in search of food. They passed it un- 
 molested. Though obliged to come nearly in 
 contact with the monster, the Huron, who had at 
 first so w r arily determined the character of his 
 strange visitor, was now content with proceeding 
 without wasting a moment in further examina- 
 tion; but Heyward was unable to prevent his 
 eyes from looking backward, in salutary watch- 
 fulness against attacks in the rear. His uneasi- 
 ness was in no degree diminished when he per- 
 ceived the beast rolling along their path, and 
 following their footsteps. He would have spoken, 
 but the Indian at that moment shoved aside a 
 door of bark, and entered a cavern in the bosom 
 of the mountain. 
 
 Profiting by so easy a method of retreat, 
 Duncan stepped after him, and was gladly clos- 
 ing the slight cover to the opening, when he felt 
 it drawn from his hand by the beast, whose 
 shaggy form immediately darkened the passage. 
 They were now in a straight and long gallery, in 
 a chasm of the rocks, where retreat without en- 
 countering the animal was impossible. Making 
 the best of circumstances, the young man pressed 
 forward, keeping as close as possible to his con- 
 ductor. The bear growled frequently at his 
 heels, and once or twice its enormous paws were 
 laid on his person, as if disposed to prevent his 
 further passage into the den. 
 
 How long the nerves of Heyward would have 
 sustained him in this extraordinary situation, it 
 might be difficult to decide ; for, happily, he 
 soon found relief. A glimmer of light had con- 
 stantly been in their front, and they now arrived 
 at the place whence it proceeded. 
 
 A large cavity in the rock had been rudely 
 fitted to answer the purposes of many apart- 
 ments. The subdivisions were simple but ingen- 
 ious, being composed of stone, sticks, and bark, 
 intermingled. Openings above admitted the light 
 by day, and at night fires and torches supplied 
 the place of the sun. Hither the Hurons had 
 brought most of their valuables, especially those 
 which more particularly pertained to the nation ; 
 and hither, as it now appeared, the sick woman, 
 
 who was believed to be the victim of supernatu- 
 ral power, had been transported also, under an 
 impression that her tormentor would find more 
 difficulty in making his assaults through walls of 
 stone than through the leafy coverings of the 
 lodges. The apartment into which Duncan and 
 his guide first entered, had been exclusively de- 
 voted to her accommodation. The latter ap- 
 proached her bedside, which was surrounded by 
 females, in the centre of whom Heyward was 
 surprised to find his missing friend David. 
 
 A single look was sufficient to apprise the pre- 
 tended leech that the invalid was far beyond his 
 powers of healing. She lay in a sort of paralysis, 
 indifferent to the objects which crowded before 
 her sight, and happily unconscious of suffering. 
 Heyward was far from regretting that his mum- 
 meries were to be performed on one who was 
 much too ill to take an interest in their failure or 
 success. The slight qualm of conscience which 
 had been excited by the intended deception was 
 instantly appeased, and he began to collect his 
 thoughts, in order to enact his part with suitable 
 spirit, when he found he was about to be antici- 
 pated in his skill by an attempt to prove the 
 power of music. 
 
 Gamut, who had stood prepared to pour forth 
 his spirit in song when the visitors entered, after 
 delaying a moment, drew a strain from his pipe, 
 and commenced a hymn that might have worked 
 a miracle, had faith in its efficacy been of muc v 
 avail. He was allowed to proceed to the cl(*»c, 
 the Indians respecting his imaginary infirmity, 
 and Duncan too glad of the delay to hazard the 
 slightest interruption. As the dying cadence of 
 his strains was falling on the ears of the latter, 
 he started aside at hearing them repeated behind 
 him, in a voice half human and half sepulchral 
 Looking around, he beheld the shaggy monster 
 seated, on end in a shadow of the cavern, where, 
 while his restless body swung in the uneasy 
 manner of the animal, it repeated, in a sort of 
 low growl, sounds, if not words, which bore 
 some slight resemblance to the melody of the 
 singer. 
 
 The effect of so strange an echo on David 
 may better be imagined than described. His eyes 
 opened as if he doubted their truth ; and hi* 
 voice became instantly mute in excess of wonde* 
 A deep-laid scheme, of communicating some im 
 portant intelligence to Heyward, was driven fron 
 his recollection by an emotion which very nearlj 
 resembled fear, but which he was fain to believe 
 was admiration. Under its influence, he exclaimed 
 aloud, “ She expects you, and is at band ; ” and 
 precipitately left the cavern. 
 
HAWK-EYE REPRESENTING A BEAR. 
 
 127 
 
 CHAPTER XXY. 
 
 “ Snug. Have you the lion’s part written ? Pray you, 
 U it be, give it me, for I am slow of study. 
 
 “ Quince. You may do it extempore, for it is nothing 
 wit roaring.” 
 
 Midsummer Night’s Dream. 
 
 There was a strange blending of the ridicu- 
 lous with that which was solemn in this scene. 
 The beast still continued its rolling, and apparent- 
 ly untiring movements, though its ludicrous at- 
 tempt to imitate the melody of David, ceased the 
 instant the latter abandoned the field. The words 
 of Gamut were, as has been seen, in his native 
 tongue ; and to Duncan they seemed pregnant 
 with some hidden meaning, though nothing pres- 
 ent assisted him in discovering the object of their 
 allusion. A speedy end was, however, put to 
 every conjecture on the subject, by the manner 
 of the chief, who advanced to the bedside of the 
 invalid, and beckoned away the whole group of 
 female attendants that had clustered there to wit- 
 ness the skill of the stranger. He was implicitly, 
 though reluctantly, obeyed; and when the low 
 echo which rang along the hollow, natural gallery, 
 from the distant closing door, had ceased, pointing 
 toward his insensible daughter, he said — 
 
 “ Now let my brother show his power.” 
 
 Thus unequivocally called on to exercise the 
 ftinctions of his assumed character, Heyward was 
 apprehensive that the smallest delay might prove 
 dangerous. Endeavoring then to collect his ideas, 
 he prepared to perform that species of incan- 
 tation, and those uncouth rites, under which the 
 Indian conjurers are accustomed to conceal their 
 ignorance and impotency. It is more than prob- 
 able that, in the disordered state of his thoughts, 
 he would soon have fallen into some suspicious, 
 if not fatal error, had not his incipient attempts 
 been interrupted by a fierce growl from the quad- 
 ruped. Three several times did he renew his ef- 
 forts to proceed, and as often was he met by the 
 same unaccountable opposition, each interruption 
 seeming more savage and threatening than the 
 preceding. 
 
 “ The cunning ones are jealous,” said the Hu- 
 ron ; “ I go. Brother, the woman is the wife of 
 one of my bravest young men ; deal justly by 
 her. — Peace,” he added, beckoning to the dis- 
 contented beast to be quiet ; “ I go.” 
 
 The chief was as good as his word, and Dun- 
 can now found himself alone in that wild and 
 desolate abode, with the helpless invalid, and the 
 fierce and dangerous brute. The latter listened 
 to the movements of the Indian with that air of 
 sagacity that a bear is known to possess, until 
 24 
 
 another echo announced that he had also left the 
 cavern, when it turned and came waddling up to 
 Duncan, before whom it seated itself, in its natu- 
 ral attitude, erect like a man. The youth looked 
 anxiously about him for some weapon, with which 
 he might make a resistance against the attack he 
 now seriously expected. 
 
 It seemed, however, as if the humor of the 
 animal had suddenly changed. Instead of con- 
 tinuing its discontented growls, or manifesting 
 any further signs of anger, the whole of its shag- 
 gy body shook violently, as if agitated by some 
 strange internal convulsion. The huge and un- 
 wieldy talons pawed stupidly about the grinning 
 muzzle, and, while Heyward kept his eye3 riveted 
 on its movements with jealous watchfulness, the 
 grim head fell on one side, and in its place ap- 
 peared the honest, sturdy countenance of the 
 scout, who was indulging, from the bottom of his 
 soul, in his own peculiar expression of merriment. 
 
 “ Hist ! ” said the wary woodsman, interrupt- 
 ing Heyward’s exclamation of surprise ; “ the var- 
 lets are about the place, and any sounds that are 
 not natural to witchcraft would bring them back 
 upon us in a body.” 
 
 “Tell me the meaning of this masquerade; 
 and why you have attempted so desperate an ad- 
 venture ? ” 
 
 “ Ah ! reason and calculation are often out- 
 done by accident,” returned the scout. “But, as 
 a story should always commence at the beginning, 
 I will tell you the whole in order. After we part- 
 ed I placed the commandant and the sagamore in 
 an old beaver-lodge, where they are safer from 
 the Hurons than they would be in the garrison of 
 Edward; for your high northwest Indians, not 
 having as yet got the traders among them, con- 
 tinue to venerate the beaver. After which Uncas 
 and I pushed for the other encampment, as was 
 agreed ; have you seen the lad ? ” 
 
 “ To my great grief! — he is captive, and con- 
 demned to die at the rising of the sun.” 
 
 “I had misgivings that such would be his 
 fate,” resumed the scout, in a less confident and 
 joyous tone. But, soon regaining his naturally 
 firm voice, he continued : “ His bad fortune is the 
 true reason of my being here, for it would never 
 do to abandon such a boy to the Hurons. A 
 rare time the knaves would have of it, could thej 
 tie ‘ The bounding Elk ’ and ‘ The long Carabine, 
 as they call me, to the same stake ! Though why 
 they have given me such a name I never Jmew, there 
 being as little likeness between the gifts of ‘ Kill- 
 deer ’ and the performance of one of your real 
 Canada carabynes, as there is between the natur* 
 of a pipe-stone and a flint 1 ” 
 
128 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “ Keep to your tale,” said the impatient Hey- 
 ward ; “ we know not at what moment the Hu- 
 rons may return.” 
 
 “No fear of them. A conjurer must have 
 his time, like a straggling priest in the settle- 
 ments. We are as safe from interruption as a 
 missionary would be at the beginning of a two 
 hours’ discourse. — Well, Uncas and I fell in with 
 a return-party of the varlets ; the lad was much 
 too forward for a scout; nay, for that matter, 
 being of hot blood, he was not so much to 
 blame ; and, after all, one of the Hurons proved 
 a coward, and in fleeing led him into an ambush- 
 ment.” 
 
 “ And dearly has he paid for the weakness ! ” 
 
 The scout significantly passed his hand across 
 his own throat and nodded, as if he said, “I 
 comprehend your meaning.” After which he 
 continued in a more audible though scarcely 
 more intelligible language : 
 
 “ After the loss of the boy, I turned upon the 
 Hurons, as you may judge. There have been 
 scrimmages atween one or two of their outliers 
 and myself ; but that is neither here nor there. 
 So, after I had shot the imps, I got in pretty nigh 
 to the lodges without further commotion. Then 
 what should luck do in my favor, but lead me to 
 the very spot where one of the most famous con- 
 jurers of the tribe was dressing himself, as I well 
 knew, for some great battle with Satan — though 
 why should I call that luck, which it now seems 
 was an especial ordering of Providence ? So a 
 judgmatical rap over the head stiffened the lying 
 impostor for a time, and leaving him a bit of wal- 
 nut for his supper, to prevent an uproar, and 
 stringing him up atween two saplings, I made 
 free with his finery, and took the part of the bear 
 on myself, in order that the operations might pro- 
 ceed.” 
 
 “ And admirably did you enact the character; 
 the animal itself might have been shamed by the 
 representation.” 
 
 “ Lord, major,” returned the flattered woods- 
 man, “ I should be but a poor scholar for one 
 who has studied so long in the wilderness, did I 
 not know how to set forth the movements and 
 natur’ of such a beast. Had it been now a cata- 
 mount or even a fall-sized panther, I would have 
 embellished a performance for you worth regard- 
 ing. But it is no such marvellous feat to exhibit 
 the feats of so dull a beast ; though, for that 
 matter too, a bear may be over-acted. Yes, yes ; 
 it is not every imitator that knows Natur’ may be 
 outdone easier than she is equalled. But all our 
 work is yet before us : where !s the gentle one ? ” 
 
 “Heaven knows; I have examined every 
 
 lodge in the village without discovering the 
 slightest trace of her presence in the tribe.” 
 
 “You heard what the singer said, as he left 
 us — ‘ She is at hand, and expects you ? ’ ” 
 
 “ I have been compelled to believe he alluded 
 to this unhappy woman.” 
 
 “ The simpleton was frightened, and blundered 
 through his message ; but he had a deeper mean- 
 ing. Here are walls enough to separate the whole 
 settlement. A bear ought to climb ; therefore 
 ■will I take a look above them. There may be 
 honey-pots hid in these rocks, and I am a beast, 
 you know, that has a hankering for the sweets.” 
 
 The scout looked behind him, laughing at his 
 own conceit, while he clambered up the partition, 
 imitating, as he went, the clumsy motions of the 
 beast he represented ; but the instant the summit 
 was gained, he made a gesture for silence, and 
 slid down with the utmost precipitation. 
 
 “ She is here,” he whispered, “ and by that 
 door you will find her. I would have spoken a 
 word of comfort to the afflicted soul; but the 
 sight of such a monster might upset her reason. 
 Though for that matter, major, you are none of 
 the most inviting yourself in your paint.” 
 
 Duncan, who had already sprung eagerly for- 
 ward, drew instantly back on hearing these dis- 
 couraging words. 
 
 “ Am I, then, so very revolting ? ” he de- 
 manded, with an air of chagrin. 
 
 “You might not startle a wolf, or turn tho 
 Royal Americans from a charge ; but I have seen 
 the time when you had a better-favored look ; 
 your streaked countenances are not ill-judged of 
 by the squaws, but young women of white blood 
 give the preference to their own color. See,” he 
 added, pointing to a place where the water trickled 
 from a rock, forming a little crystal spring before 
 it found an issue through the adjacent crevices ; 
 “ you may easily get rid of the sagamore’s daub, 
 and when you come back I will try my hand at a 
 new embellishment. It’s as common for a con- 
 jurer to alter his paint as for a buck in the set- 
 tlements to change his finery.” 
 
 The deliberate woodsman had little occasion 
 to hunt for arguments to enforce his advice. He 
 was yet speaking when Duncan availed himself 
 of the water. In a moment every frightful or of 
 fensive mark was obliterated, and the youth ap 
 peared again in the lineaments with which he had 
 been gifted by Nature. Thus prepared for an in- 
 terview with his mistress, he took a hasty leave 
 of his companion, and disappeared through the 
 indicated passage. The scout witnessed his de- 
 parture with complacency, nodding his head after 
 him, and muttering his good wishes ; after which 
 
ALICE AND HER LOVER. 
 
 129 
 
 le very coolly set about an examination of the 
 state of the larder, among the Hurons — the cav- 
 ern, among other purposes, bemg used as a recep- 
 tacle for the fruits of their hunts. 
 
 Duncan had no other guide than a distant 
 glimmering light, which served, however, the office 
 of a polar star to the lover. By its aid he was 
 enabled to enter the haven of his hopes, which 
 was merely another apartment of the cavern, that 
 had been solely appropriated to the safe-keeping 
 of so important a prisoner as a daughter of the 
 commandant of William Henry. It was profusely 
 6trewed with the plunder of that unlucky fortress. 
 In the midst of this confusion he found her he 
 sought, pale, anxious, and terrified, but lovely. 
 David had prepared her for such a visit. 
 
 “ Duncan ! ” she exclaimed, in a voice that 
 seemed to tremble at the sounds created by it- 
 self. 
 
 “ Alice ! ” he answered, leaping carelessly 
 among the trunks, boxes, arms, and furniture, 
 until he stood at her side. 
 
 “ I knew that you would never desert me,” 
 she said, looking up with a momentary glow on 
 her otherwise dejected countenance. “ But you 
 are alone ! Grateful as it is to be thus remem- 
 bered,- I could wish to think you are not entirely 
 alone.” 
 
 Duncan, observing that she trembled in a 
 manner which betrayed her inability to stand, 
 gently induced her to be seated while he recounted 
 those leading incidents which it has been our task 
 to record. Alice listened with breathless interest ; 
 and though the young man touched lightly on the 
 sorrows of the stricken father, taking care, how- 
 ever, not to wound the self-love of his auditor, 
 the tears ran as freely down the cheeks of the 
 daughter as though she had never wept before. 
 The soothing tenderness of Duncan, however, 
 soon quieted the first burst of her emotions, and 
 she then heard him to the close with undivided 
 attention, if not with composure. 
 
 “ And now, Alice,” he added, “ you will see 
 how much is still expected of you. By the assist- 
 ance of our experienced and invaluable friend, 
 the scout, we may find our way from this savage 
 people, but you will have to exert your utmost 
 fortitude. Remember that you fly to the arms of 
 your venerable parent, and how much his happi- 
 ness, as well as your own, depends on those ex- 
 ertions.” 
 
 “ Can I do otherwise for a father who has 
 done so much for me ? ” 
 
 “And for me, too,” continued the youth, 
 gently pressing the hand he held in both his 
 
 own. 
 
 The look of innocence and surprise which he 
 received in return convinced Duncan of the ne- 
 cessity of being more explicit. 
 
 “ This is neither the place nor the occasion to 
 detain you with selfish wishes,” he added ; “ but 
 what heart loaded like mine would not wish to 
 cast its burden ? They say misery is the closest 
 of all ties ; our common suffering in your behalf 
 left but little to be explained between your father 
 and myself.” 
 
 “ And dearest Cora, Duncan ; surely Cora was 
 not forgotten? ” 
 
 “ Not forgotten ! no ; regretted as woman was 
 seldom mourned before. Your venerable father 
 knew no difference between his children ; but I — 
 Alice, you will not be offended when I say, that 
 to me her worth was in a degree obscured — ” 
 
 “ Then you knew not the merit of my sister,” 
 said Alice, withdrawing her hand ; “ of you she 
 ever speaks as of one who is her dearest friend.” 
 
 “ I would gladly believe her such,” returned 
 Duncan, hastily ; “ I could wish her to be even 
 more ; but with you, Alice, I have the permission 
 of your father to aspire to a still nearer and 
 dearer tie.” 
 
 Alice trembled violently, and there was an 
 instant during which she bent her face aside, 
 yielding to the emotions common to her sex ; but 
 they quickly passed away, leaving her mistress of 
 her deportment, if not of her affections. 
 
 “ Heyward,” she said, looking him full in the 
 face with a touching expression of innocence and 
 dependency, “ give me the sacred presence and 
 the holy sanction of that parent before you urge 
 me further.” 
 
 “ Though more I should not, less I could not 
 say,” the youth was about to answer, when he 
 was interrupted by a light tap on his shoulder. 
 Starting to his feet, he turned, and, confronting 
 the intruder, his looks fell on the dark form and 
 malignant visage of Magua. The deep, guttural 
 laugh of the savage sounded, at such a moment, 
 to Duncan like the hellish taunt of a demon. 
 Had he pursued the sudden and fierce impulse of 
 the instant, he would have cast himself on the 
 Huron, and committed their fortunes to the issue 
 of a deadly struggle. But, without arras of any 
 description, ignorant of what succor his subtle 
 enemy could command, and charged with the 
 safety of one who was just then dearer than ever 
 to his heart, he no sooner entertained than he 
 abandoned the desperate intention. 
 
 “ What is your purpose ? ” said Alice, meekly 
 folding her arms on her bosom, and struggling 
 to conceal an agony of apprehension in behalf 
 of Heyward, in the usual cold and distant man* 
 
 9 
 
THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 1 30 
 
 ner with which she received the visits of her cap- 
 tor. 
 
 The exulting Indian had resumed his austere 
 countenance, though he drew warily back before 
 the menacing glance of the young man’s fiery eye. 
 He regarded both his captives for a moment with 
 a steady look, and then, stepping aside, he dropped 
 a log of wood across a door different from that by 
 which Duncan had entered. The latter now com- 
 prehended the manner of his surprise, and, be- 
 lieving himself irretrievably lost, he drew Alice 
 to his bosom, and stood prepared to meet a fate 
 which he hardly regretted, since it was to be suf- 
 fered in such company. But Magua meditated no 
 immediate violence. His first measures were very 
 evidently taken to secure his new captive ; nor 
 did he even bestow a second glance at the motion- 
 less forms in the centre of the cavern, until he 
 had completely cut off every hope of retreat 
 through the private outlet he had himself used. 
 He was watched in all his movements by Hey- 
 ward, who, however, remained firm, still folding 
 the fragile form of Alice to his heart, at once too 
 proud and too hopeless to ask favor of an enemy 
 so often foiled. When Magua had effected his 
 object he approached his prisoners, and said in 
 English : 
 
 “ The pale-faces trap the cunning beavers ; 
 but the red-skins know how to take the Yen- 
 geese.” 
 
 “ Huron, do your worst ! ” exclaimed the ex- 
 cited Heyward, forgetful that a double stake was 
 involved in his life; “you and your vengeance 
 are alike despised.” 
 
 “ Will the white man speak these words at the 
 stake ? ” asked Magua ; manifesting, at the same 
 time, how little faith he had in the other’s resolu- 
 tion by the sneer that accompanied his words. 
 
 “ Here ; singly to your face, or in the presence 
 of your nation.” 
 
 “ Le Renard subtil is a great chief ! ” returned 
 the Indian ; “ he will go and bring his young men, 
 to see how bravely a pale-face can laugh at the 
 tortures.” 
 
 He turned away while speaking, and was 
 about to leave the place through the avenue by 
 which Duncan had approached, when a growl 
 caught his ear, and caused him to hesitate. The 
 figure of the bear appeared in the door, where it 
 sat, rolling from side to side in its customary 
 restlessness. Magua, like the father of the sick 
 woman, eyed it keenly for a moment, as if to 
 ascertain its character. He was far above the 
 more vulgar superstitions of his tribe, and as soon 
 as he recognized the well-known attire of the 
 conjurer, he prepared to pass It in cool contempt. 
 
 But a louder and more threatening growl caused 
 him again to pause. Then he seemed as if he 
 suddenly resolved to trifle no longer, and moved 
 resolutely forward. The mimic animal, which had 
 advanced a little, retired slowly in his front, until 
 it arrived again at the pass, when, rearing on it3 
 hinder legs, it beat the air with its paws, in the 
 manner practised by its brutal prototype. 
 
 “ Fool ! ” exclaimed the chief, in Huron, “ go 
 play with the children and squaws ; leave men to 
 their wisdom.” 
 
 He once more endeavored to pass the sup- 
 posed empiric, scorning even the parade of threat- 
 ening to use the knife, or tomahawk, that was 
 pendent from his belt. Suddenly the beast ex- 
 tended its arms, or rather legs, and enclosed him 
 in a grasp that might have vied with the far- 
 famed power of the “bear’s hug” itself. Hey- 
 ward had watched the whole procedure, on the 
 part of Hawk-eye, with breathless interest. At 
 first he relinquished his hold of Alice; then he 
 caught up a thong of buckskin, which had been 
 used around some bundle, and when he beheld 
 his enemy with his two arms pinned to his side 
 by the iron muscles of the scout, he rushed upon 
 him, and effectually secured them there. Arms, 
 legs, and feet, were encircled in twenty folds of 
 the thong, in less time than we have taken to 
 record the circumstance. When the formidable 
 Huron was completely pinioned, the scout released 
 his hold, and Duncan laid his enemy on his back, 
 utterly helpless. 
 
 Throughout the whole of this sudden and 
 extraordinary operation, Magua, though he had 
 struggled violently, until assured that he was in 
 the hands of one whose nerves were far better 
 strung than his own, had not uttered the slightest 
 exclamation. But when Hawk-eye, by way of 
 making a summary explanation of his conduct, 
 removed the shaggy jaws of the beast, and ex- 
 posed his own rugged and earnest countenance 
 to the gaze of the Huron, the philosophy of the 
 latter was so far mastered as to permit him to 
 utter the never-failing — 
 
 “Hugh!” 
 
 “ Ay ! you’ve found your tongue,” said his 
 undisturbed conqueror ; “ now, in order that you 
 shall not use it to our ruin, I must make free to 
 stop your mouth.” 
 
 As there was no time to be lost, the scout 
 immediately set about effecting so necessary a 
 precaution ; and, when he had gagged the Indian, 
 his enemy mignt safely have been considered as 
 hors de combat. 
 
 “ By what place did the imp enter ? ” asked 
 the industrious scout, when his work was ended. 
 
EVERY TRAIL HAS ITS END.” 
 
 131 
 
 * Not a soul has passed my way since you left 
 me.” 
 
 Duncan pointed out the door by which Magua 
 had come, and which now presented too many 
 obstacles to a quick retreat. 
 
 “ Bring on the gentle one then,” continued his 
 friend ; “ we must make a push for the woods by 
 the other outlet.” 
 
 “ ’Tis impossible ! ” said Duncan ; “ fear has 
 overcome her, and she is helpless. — Alice ! my 
 sweet, my own Alice, arouse yourself; now is 
 the moment to fly. — ’Tis in vain ! she hears, but 
 is unable to follow. Go, noble and worthy friend ; 
 save yourself, and leave me to my fate ! ” 
 
 “ Every trail has its end, and every calamity 
 brings its lesson ! ” returned the scout. “ There, 
 wrap her in them Indian cloths. Conceal all of 
 her little form. Nay, that foot has no fellow in 
 the wilderness ; it will betray her. All, every 
 fart. Now take her in your arms, and follow. 
 Leave the rest to me.” 
 
 Duncan, as may be gathered from the words 
 of his companion, was eagerly obeying ; and, as 
 the other finished speaking, he took the light per- 
 son of Alice in his arms, and followed on the foot- 
 steps of the scout. They found the sick woman 
 as they had left her, still alone, and passed 
 swiftly on, by the natural gallery, to the place of 
 entrance. As they approached the little door 
 of bark, a murmur of voices without announced 
 that the friends and relatives of the invalid were 
 gathered about the place, patiently awaiting a 
 summons to reenter. 
 
 “ If I open my lips to speak,” Hawk-eye 
 whispered, “my English, which is the genuine 
 tongue of a white-skin, will tell the varlets that 
 an enemy is among them. You must give ’em 
 your jargon, major ; and say that we have shut 
 the evil spirit in the cave, and are taking the 
 woman to the woods in order to find strengthen- 
 ing roots. Practyse all your cunning, for it is a 
 lawful undertaking.” 
 
 The door opened a little, as if one without 
 was listening to the proceedings within, and com- 
 pelled the scout to cease his directions. A fierce 
 growl repelled the eavesdropper, and then the 
 scout boldly threw open the covering of bark, 
 and left the place, enacting the character of 
 the bear as he proceeded. Duncan kept close 
 at his heels, and soon found himself in the cen- 
 tre of a cluster of twenty anxious relatives and 
 friends. 
 
 The crowd fell back a little, and permitted the 
 father, and one who appeared to be the husband 
 of the woman, to approach. 
 
 “ Has my brother driven away the evil spirit ? ” 
 
 demanded the former. “ What has he in his 
 arms ? ” 
 
 “ Thy child,” returned Duncan, gravely ; “ the 
 disease has gone out of her ; it is shut up in the 
 rocks. I take the woman to a distance, where I 
 will strengthen her against any further attacks. 
 She shall be in the wigwam of the young man 
 when the sun comes again.” 
 
 When the father had translated the meaning 
 of the stranger’s words into the Huron language 
 a suppressed murmur announced the satisfaction 
 with which this intelligence was received. The 
 chief himself waved his hand for Duncan to pro- 
 ceed, saying aloud, in a firm voice, and with a 
 lofty manner : 
 
 “ Go — I am a man, and I will enter the rock 
 and fight the wicked one.” 
 
 Heyward had gladly obeyed, and was already 
 past the little group, when these startling words 
 arrested him. 
 
 “ Is my brother mad ! ” he exclaimed ; “ is ho 
 cruel ? He will meet the disease, and it will 
 enter him ; or he will drive out the disease, and 
 it will chase his daughter into the woods. No — 
 let my children wait without, and if the spirit 
 appears, beat him down with clubs. He is cuni- 
 ning, and will bury himself in the mountain, when 
 he sees how many are ready to fight him.” 
 
 This singular warning had the desired effect. 
 Instead of entering the cavern, the father and hus- 
 band drew their tomahawks, and posted them- 
 selves in readiness to deal their vengeance on the 
 imaginary tormentor of their sick relative, while 
 the women and children broke branches from the 
 bushes, or seized fragments of the rock, with a 
 similar intention. At this favorable moment the 
 counterfeit conjurers disappeared. 
 
 Hawk-eye, at the same time that he had pre- 
 sumed so far on the nature of the Indian supersti. 
 tions, was not ignorant that they were rather toler- 
 ated than relied on by the wisest of the chiefs. 
 He well knew the value of time in the present 
 emergency. Whatever might be the extent of the 
 self-delusion of his enemies, and however it had 
 tended to assist his schemes, the slightest cause 
 of suspicion, acting on the subtle nature of an 
 Indian, would be likely to prove fatal. Taking 
 the path, therefore, that was most likely to avoid 
 observation, he rather skirted than entered the 
 village. The warriors were still to be seen in the 
 distance, by the fading light of the fires, stalking 
 from lodge to lodge. But the children had aban- 
 doned their sports for their beds of skins, and the 
 quiet of night was already beginning to prevail 
 over the turbulence and excitement of so busy and 
 important an evening. 
 
132 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 Alice revived under the renovating influence 
 of the open air, and as her physical rather than 
 her mental powers had been the subject of weak- 
 ness, she stood in no need of any explanation of 
 that which had occurred. 
 
 “ Now let me make an effort to walk,” she 
 said, when they had entered the forest, blushing, 
 though unseen, that she had not been sooner able 
 to quit the arms of Duncan ; “lam indeed re- 
 stored.” 
 
 “ Nay, Alice, you are yet too weak.” 
 
 The maiden struggled gently to release her- 
 self, and Heyward was compelled to part with his 
 precious burden. The representative of the bear 
 had certainly been an entire stranger to the de- 
 licious emotions of the lover while his arms en- 
 circled his mistress ; and he was, perhaps, a 
 stranger also to the nature of that feeling of in- 
 genuous shame that oppressed the trembling Alice. 
 But, when he found himself at a suitable distance 
 from the lodges, he made a halt, and spoke on a 
 subject of which he was thoroughly the master. 
 
 “ This path will lead you to the brook,” he 
 said ; “ follow its northern bank until you come 
 to a fall ; mount the hill on your right, and you 
 will see the fires of the other people. There you 
 must go, and demand protection ; if they are true 
 Delawares, you will be safe. A distant flight 
 with that gentle one, just now, is impossible. 
 The Hurons would follow our trail, and master 
 our scalps, before we had got a dozen miles. Go, 
 and Providence be with you ! ” 
 
 “And you ! ” demanded Heyward in surprise ; 
 “ surely we part not here ? ” 
 
 “ The Hurons hold the pride of the Delawares ; 
 the last of the high blood of the Mohicans is in 
 their power,” returned the scout ; “ I go to see 
 what can be done in his favor. Had they mas- 
 tered your scalp, major, a knave should have fallen 
 for every hair it held, as I promised ; but, if the 
 young sagamore is to be led to the stake, the In- 
 dians shall see also how a man without a cross 
 can die.” 
 
 Not in the least offended with the decided 
 preference that the sturdy woodsman gave to one 
 who might, in some degree, be called the child of 
 his adoption, Duncan still continued to urge such 
 reasons against so desperate an effort as presented 
 themselves. He was aided by Alice, who mingled 
 her entreaties with those of Heyward that he 
 would abandon a resolution that promised so 
 much danger, with so little hope of success. 
 Their eloquence and ingenuity were expended in 
 vain. The scout heard them attentively, but im- 
 patiently, and finally closed the discussion, by an- 
 swering, in a tone that instantly silenced Alice, 
 
 while it told Heyward how fruitless any further 
 remonstrances would be. 
 
 “ I have heard,” he said, “ that there is a feel- 
 ing in youth which binds man to woman closer 
 than the father is tied to the son. It may be so. 
 I have seldom been where women of my color 
 dwell ; but such may be the gifts of Nature in 
 the settlements. You have risked life, and all 
 that is dear to you, to bring off this gentle one, 
 and I suppose that some such disposition is at 
 the bottom of it all. As for me, I taught the 
 lad the real character of a rifle ; and well has he 
 paid me for it. I have fou’t at his side in many 
 a bloody scrimmage ; and so long as I could hear 
 the crack of his piece in one ear, and that of the 
 sagamore in the other, I knew no enemy was on 
 my back. Winters and summers, nights and 
 days, have we roved the wilderness in company, 
 eating of the same dish, one sleeping while the 
 other watched ; and afore it shall be said that 
 Uncas was taken to the torment, and I at hand — 
 There is but a single ruler of us all, whatever 
 may be the color of the skin ; and him I call to 
 witness — that before the Mohican boy shall perish 
 for the want of a friend, good faith shall depart 
 the ’arth, and ‘ Kill-deer ’ become as harmless aa 
 the tooting-we’pon of the singer ! ” 
 
 Duncan released his hold on the arm of the 
 scout, who turned, and steadily retraced his steps 
 toward the lodges. After pausing a moment to 
 gaze at his retiring form, the successful and yet 
 sorrowful Heyward, and Alice, took their way 
 together toward the distant village of the Dela- 
 wares. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 “ Bot. Let me play the lion too.” 
 
 Midsummer Night’s Dream. 
 
 Notwithstanding the high resolution of 
 Hawk-eye, he fully comprehended all the difficul- 
 ties and dangers he was about to incur. In his 
 return to the camp, his acute and practised intel- 
 lects were intently engaged in devising means to 
 counteract a watchfulness and suspicion on the 
 part of his enemies, that he knew were, in no de- 
 gree, inferior to his own. Nothing but the color 
 of his skin had saved the lives of Magua and the 
 conjurer, who would have been the first victims 
 sacrificed to his own security, had not the scout 
 believed such an act, however congenial it might 
 be to the nature of an Indian, utterly unworthy 
 of one who boasted a descent from men that knew 
 no cross of blood. Accordingly, he trusted to 
 
DAVID GAMUT AND THE SCOUT. 
 
 133 
 
 the withes and ligaments with which he bound 
 his captives, and pursued his way directly toward 
 the centre of the lodges. 
 
 Aa he approached the buildings, his steps be- 
 came more deliberate, and his vigilant eye suf- 
 fered no sign, whether friendly or hostile, to es- 
 cape him. A neglected hut was a little in ad- 
 vance of the others, and appeared as if it had 
 been deserted when half completed — most prob- 
 ably on account of failing in some of the more 
 important requisites ; such as wood or water. A 
 faint light glimmered through its cracks, how- 
 ever, and announced that, notwithstanding its im- 
 perfect structure, it was not without a tenant. 
 Thither, then, the scout proceeded, like a prudent 
 general, who was about to feel the advanced po- 
 sitions of his enemy, before he hazarded the 
 main attack. 
 
 Throwing himself into a suitable posture for 
 the beast he represented, Hawk-eye crawled to a 
 little opening, where he might command a view 
 of the interior. It proved to be the abiding- 
 place of David Gamut. Hither the faithful sing- 
 ing-master had now brought himself, together 
 with all his sorrows, his apprehensions, and his 
 meek dependence on the protection of Providence. 
 At the precise moment when his ungainly person 
 came under the observation of the scout, in the 
 manner just mentioned, the woodsman himself, 
 though in his assumed character, was the subject 
 of the solitary being’s profoundest reflections. 
 
 However implicit the faith of David was in 
 the performance of ancient miracles, he eschewed 
 the belief of any direct supernatural agency in 
 the management of modern morality. In other 
 words, while he had implicit faith in the ability 
 of Balaam’s ass to speak, he was somewhat skep- 
 tical on the subject of a bear’s singing ; and yet 
 he had been assured of the latter, on the testi- 
 mony of his own exquisite organs. There was 
 something in his air and manner that betrayed to 
 the scout the utter confusion of the state of his 
 mind. He was seated on a pile of brush, a few 
 twigs from which occasionally fed his low fire, 
 with his head leaning on his arm, in a posture of 
 melancholy musing. The costume of the votary 
 of music had undergone no other alteration from 
 that so lately described, except that he had cov- 
 ered his bald head with the triangular beaver, 
 which had not proved sufficiently alluring to ex- 
 cite the cupidity of any of his captors. 
 
 The ingenious Hawk-eye, who recalled the 
 hasty manner in which the other had abandoned 
 his post at the bedside of the sick woman, was 
 not without his suspicions concerning the subject 
 of so much solemn deliberation. First making 
 
 the circuit of the hut, and ascertaining that it 
 stood quite alone, and that the character of its 
 inmate was likely to protect it from visitors, he 
 ventured through its low door, into the very 
 presence of Gamut. The position of the latter 
 brought the fire between them ; and when Hawk- 
 eye had seated himself on end, near a minute 
 elapsed, during which the two remained regard- 
 ing each other without speaking. The sudden- 
 ness and the nature of the surprise had nearly 
 proved too much for — we will not say the phi- 
 losophy — but for the faith and resolution of Da- 
 vid. He fumbled for his pitch-pipe, and arose 
 with a confused intention of attempting a musi- 
 cal exorcism. 
 
 “ Dark and mysterious monster ! ” he ex- 
 claimed, while with trembling hands he disposed 
 of his auxiliary eyes, and sought his never-failing 
 resource in trouble, the gifted version of the 
 Psalms ; “ I know not your nature nor intents ; 
 but if aught you meditate against the person and 
 rights of one of the humblest servants of the 
 temple, listen to the inspired language of the 
 youth of Israel, and repent.” 
 
 The bear shook his shaggy sides, and then a 
 well-known voice replied : 
 
 “ Put up the tooting-we’pon, and teach your 
 throat modesty. Five words of plain and com- 
 prehendible English are worth, just now, an hour 
 of squalling.” 
 
 “ What art thou ? ” demanded David, utterly 
 disqualified to pursue his original intention, and 
 nearly gasping for breath. 
 
 “ A man like yourself ; and one whose blood 
 is as little tainted by the cross of a bear, or an 
 Indian, as your own. Have you so soon forgot- 
 ten from whom you received the foolish instru- 
 ment you hold in your hand ? ” 
 
 “ Can these things be ? ” returned David, 
 breathing more freely, as the truth began to 
 dawn upon him. “ I have found many marvels 
 during my sojourn with the heathen, but surely 
 nothing to excel this ! ” 
 
 “ Come, come,” returned Hawk-eye, uncasing 
 his honest countenance, the better to assure the 
 wavering confidence of his companion ; “ you 
 may see a skin, which, if it be not as white as 
 one of the gentle ones, has no tinge of red to it 
 that the winds of the heaven and the sun have 
 not bestowed. Now let us to business.” 
 
 “ First tell me of the maiden, and of the youth 
 who so bravely sought her,” interrupted David. 
 
 “ Ay, they are happily freed from the toma- 
 hawks of these varlets. But can you put me on 
 the scent of Uncas ? ” 
 
 • “ The young man is in bondage, and much I 
 
134 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 fear his death is decreed. I greatly mourn that 
 one so well disposed should die in his ignorance, 
 and I have sought a goodly hymn — ” 
 
 “ Can you lead me to him ? ” 
 
 “ The task will not be difficult,” returned Da- 
 vid, hesitating ; “ though I greatly fear your 
 presence would rather increase than mitigate his 
 unhappy fortunes.” 
 
 “No more words, but lead on,” returned 
 Hawk-eye, concealing his face again, and setting 
 the example in his own person, by instantly quit- 
 ting the lodge. 
 
 As they proceeded, the scout ascertained that 
 his companion found access to Uncas, under 
 privilege of his imaginary infirmity, aided by the 
 favor he had acquired with one of the guards, 
 who, in consequence of speaking a little English, 
 had been selected by David as the subject of a 
 religious conversion. How far the Huron com- 
 prehended the intentions of his new friend, may 
 well be doubted ; but as exclusive attention is as 
 flattering to a savage as to a more civilized indi- 
 vidual, it had produced the effect we have men- 
 tioned. It is unnecessary to repeat the shrewd 
 manner with which the scout extracted these par- 
 ticulars from the simple David ; neither shall we 
 dwell in this place on the nature of the instruc- 
 tions he delivered, when completely master of all 
 the necessary facts ; as the whole will be suffi- 
 ciently explained to the reader in the course of 
 the narrative. 
 
 The lodge in which Uncas was confined was 
 in the very centre of the village, and in a situa- 
 tion, perhaps, more difficult than any other to 
 approach, or leave, without observation. But it 
 was not the policy of Hawk-eye to affect the 
 least concealment. Presuming on his disguise, 
 and his ability to sustain the character he had 
 assumed, he took the most plain and direct route 
 to the place. The hour, however, afforded him 
 some little of that protection which he appeared 
 so much to despise. The boys were already 
 buried in sleep, and all the women, and most of 
 the warriors, had retired to their lodges for the 
 night. Four or five of the latter only lingered 
 about the door of the prison of Uncas, wary but 
 close observers of the manner of their captive. 
 
 At the sight of Gamut, accompanied by one 
 in the well-known masquerade of their most dis- 
 tinguished conjurer, they readily made way for 
 them both. Still they betrayed no intention to 
 depart. On the other hand, they were evidently 
 disposed to remain bound to the place by an ad- 
 ditional interest in the mysterious mummeries 
 that they of course expected from such a visit. 
 
 From the total inability of the scout to ad- 
 
 dress the Hurons in their own language, he was 
 compelled to trust the conversation entirely to 
 David. Notwithstanding the simplicity of the 
 latter, he did ample justice to the instructions ho 
 had received, more than fulfilling the strongest 
 hopes of his teacher. 
 
 “ The Delawares are women ! ” he exclaimed, 
 addressing himself to the savage who had a slight 
 understanding of the language in which he spoke ; 
 “the Yengeese, my foolish countrymen, have told 
 them to take up the tomahawk, and strike their 
 fathers in the Canadas, and they have forgotten 
 their sex. Does my brother wish to hear ‘ Le 
 Cerf agile ’ ask for hi3 petticoats, and see him 
 weep before the Hurons, at the stake ? ” 
 
 The exclamation “ hugh 1 ” delivered in a 
 strong tone of assent, announced the gratification 
 the savage would receive in witnessing such an 
 exhibition of weakness in an enemy so long hated 
 and so much feared. 
 
 “ Then let him step aside, and the cunning 
 man will blow upon the dog! Tell it to my 
 brothers.” 
 
 The Huron explained the meaning of David 
 to his fellows, who, in their tum, listened to the 
 project with that sort of satisfaction that their 
 untamed spirits might be expected to find in such 
 a refinement in cruelty. They drew back a little 
 from the entrance, and motioned to the supposed 
 conjurer to enter. But the bear, instead of obey- 
 ing, maintained the seat it had taken, and 
 growled. 
 
 “ The cunning man is afraid that his breath 
 will blow upon his brothers, and take away their 
 courage, too, continued David, improving the hint 
 he received ; “ they must stand farther off.” 
 
 The Hurons, who would have deemed such a 
 misfortune the heaviest calamity that could befall 
 them, fell back in a body, taking a position where 
 they were out of ear-shot, though at the same time 
 they could command a view of the entrance to 
 the lodge. Then, as if satisfied of their safety, 
 the scout left his position, and slowly entered the 
 place. It was silent and gloomy, being tenanted 
 solely by the captive, and lighted by the dying 
 embers of a fire, which had been used for the pur- 
 poses of cookery. 
 
 Uncas occupied a distant corner, in a reclining 
 attitude, being rigidly bound, both hands and feet, 
 by strong and painful withes. When the frightful 
 object first presented itself to the young Mohican, 
 he did not deign to bestow a single glance on the 
 animal. The scout, who had left David at the 
 door to ascertain they were not observed, thought 
 it prudent to preserve his disguise until assured 
 of their privacy. Instead of speaking, therefore. 
 
UNCAS IN BONDAGE. 
 
 135 
 
 he exerted himself to enact one of the antics of 
 the animal he represented. The young Mohican, 
 who at first believed his enemies had sent in a 
 real beast to torment him, and try his nerves, de- 
 tected, in those performances that to Heyward 
 had appeared so accurate, certain blemishes, that 
 at once betrayed the counterfeit. Had Hawk-eye 
 been aware of the low estimation in which the 
 more skilful Uncas held his representations, he 
 would probably have prolonged the entertainment 
 a little in pique. But the scornful expression of 
 the young man’s eye admitted of so many con- 
 structions, that the worthy scout was spared the 
 mortification of such a discovery. As soon, there- 
 fore, as David gave the preconcerted signal, a low 
 hissing sound was heard in the lodge, in place of 
 the fierce growlings of the bear. 
 
 Uncas had cast his body back against the wall 
 of the hut, and closed his eyes, as if willing to 
 exclude so contemptible and disagreeable an ob- 
 ject from his sight. But the moment the noise 
 of the serpent was heard, he arose, and cast his 
 looks on each side of him, bending his head low, 
 and turning it inquiringly in every direction, until 
 his keen eye rested on the shaggy monster, where 
 it remained riveted, as though fixed by the power 
 of a charm. Again the same sounds were re- 
 peated, evidently proceeding from the mouth of 
 the beast. Once more the eyes of the youth 
 roamed over the interior of the lodge, and, return- 
 ing to their former resting-place, he uttered, in a 
 deep, suppressed voice — 
 
 “ Hawk-eye ! ” 
 
 “Cut his bands,” said Hawk-eye to David, 
 who just then approached them. 
 
 The singer did as he was ordered, and Uncas 
 found his limbs released. At the same moment 
 the dried skin of the animal rattled, and presently 
 the scout arose to his feet, in proper person. The 
 Mohican appeared to comprehend the nature of 
 the attempt his friend had made, intuitively, nei- 
 ther tongue nor feature betraying another symp- 
 tom of surprise. When Hawk-eye had cast his 
 shaggy vestment, which was done by simply loos- 
 ing certain thongs of skin, he drew a long glitter- 
 ing knife, and put it in the hands of Uncas. 
 
 “The red Hurons are without,” he said ; “let 
 us be ready.” 
 
 At the same time he laid his finger significantly 
 on another similar weapon, both being the fruits 
 of his prowess among their enemies during the 
 evening. 
 
 “We will go,” said Uncas. 
 
 “ Whither?” 
 
 “To the Tortoises • they are the children of 
 my grandfathers.” 
 
 “ Ay, lad,” said the scout in English — a lan- 
 guage he was apt to use when a little abstracted 
 in mind ; “ the same blood runs in your Veins, I be- 
 lieve ; but time and distance has a little changed 
 its color. What shall we do with the Mingocs at 
 the door ? They count six, and this singer is as 
 good as nothing.” 
 
 “ The Hurons are boasters,” said Uncas, scorn- 
 fully; “their ‘totem’ is a moose, and they run 
 like snails. The Delawares are children of the 
 tortoise, and they outstrip the deer.” 
 
 “ Ay, lad, there is truth in what you say ; and 
 I doubt not, on a rush, you would pass the whole 
 nation ; and, in a straight race of two miles, would 
 be in, and get your breath again, afore a knave of 
 them all was within hearing of the other village. 
 But the gift of a white man lies more in his arms 
 than in his legs. As for myself, I can brain a Hu- 
 ron as well as a better man ; but when it comes to 
 a race, the knaves would prove too much for me.” 
 
 Uncas, who had already approached the door 
 in readiness to lead the way, now recoiled, and 
 placed himself, once more, in the bottom of the 
 lodge. But Hawk-eye, who was too much occu- 
 pied with his own thoughts to note the movement, 
 continued speaking, more to himself than to his 
 companion : 
 
 “After all,” he said, “it is unreasonable to 
 keep one man in bondage to the gifts of another. 
 So, Uncas, you had better take the leap, while I 
 will put on the skin again, and trust to cunning 
 for want of speed.” 
 
 The young Mohican made no reply, but quiet- 
 ly folded his arms, and leaned his body against 
 one of the upright posts that supported the wall 
 of the hut. 
 
 “Well,” said the scout, looking up at him, 
 “ why do you tarry ? There will be time enough 
 for me, as the knaves will give chase to you at 
 first.” 
 
 “ Uncas will stay,” was the calm reply. 
 
 “ For what ? ” 
 
 “ To fight with his father’s brother, and die 
 with the friend of the Delawares.” 
 
 “Ay, lad,” returned Hawk-eye, squeezing the 
 hand of Uncas between his own iron fingers ; 
 “ ’twould have been more like a Mingo than a Mo- 
 hican had you left me. But I thought I would 
 make the offer, seeing that youth commonly loves 
 lift. Well, what can’t be done by main courage, 
 in war, must be done by circumvention. Put on 
 the skin ; I doubt not you can play the bear 
 nearly as well as myself.” 
 
 Whatever might have been the private opinion 
 of Uncas of their respective abilities in this par- 
 ticular, his grave countenance manifested no op in- 
 
136 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 ion of his own superiority. He silently and ex- 
 peditiously encased himself in the covering of the 
 beast, and then awaited such other movements as 
 his more aged companion saw fit to dictate. 
 
 “Now, friend,” said Hawk-eye, addressing 
 David, “ an exchange of garments will be a great 
 convenience to you, inasmuch as you are but little 
 accustomed to the make-shifts of the wilderness. 
 Here, take my hunting shirt and cap, and give me 
 your blanket and hat. You must trust me with 
 the book and spectacles, as well as the tooter, 
 too ; if we ever meet again, in better times, you 
 shall have all back again, with many thanks into 
 the bargain.” 
 
 David parted with the several articles named 
 with a readiness that would have done great credit 
 to his liberality, had he not certainly profited, in 
 many particulars, by the exchange. Hawk-eye 
 was not long in assuming his borrowed garments ; 
 and when his restless eyes were hid behind the 
 glasses, and his head was surmounted by the tri- 
 angular beaver, as their statures were not dis- 
 similar, he might readily have passed for the 
 singer by starlight. As soon as these dispositions 
 were made, the scout turned to David, and gave 
 him his parting instructions. 
 
 “Are you much given to cowardice?” he 
 bluntly asked, by way of obtaining a suitable 
 understanding of the whole case before he ven- 
 tured a prescription. 
 
 “ My pursuits are peaceful, and my temper, 1 
 humbly trust, is greatly given to mercy and love,” 
 returned David, a little nettled at so direct an 
 attack on his manhood ; but there are none who 
 can say that I have ever forgotten my faith in the 
 Lord, even in the greatest straits.” 
 
 “ Your chiefest danger will be at the moment 
 when the savages find out that they have been 
 deceived. If you are not then knocked in the 
 head, your being a non-composser will protect 
 you ; and you’ll then have good reason to ex- 
 pect to die in your bed. If you stay, it must be 
 to sit down here in the shadow, and take the part 
 of Uncas, until such times as the cunning of the 
 Indians discover the cheat, when, as I have already 
 said, your time of trial will come. So choose for 
 yourself— to make a rush or tarry here.” 
 
 “ Even so,” said David, firmly ; “ I will abide 
 in the place of the Delaware. Bravely and gener- 
 ously has he battled in my behalf; and this, and 
 more, will I dare in his service.” 
 
 “You have spoken as a man, and like one 
 who, under wiser schooling, would have been 
 brought to better things. Hold your head down, 
 and draw in your legs; their formation might 
 tell the truth too early. Keep silent as long as 
 
 may be ; and it would be wise, when you do 
 speak, to break out suddenly in one of your 
 shoutings, which will serve to remind the In- 
 dians that you are not altogether as responsible 
 as men should be. If, however, they take your 
 scalp, as I trust and believe they will not, de- ' 
 pend on it, Uncas and I will not forget the deed, 
 but revenge it as becomes true warriors and trusty 
 friends.” 
 
 “ Hold ! ” said David, perceiving that with 
 this assurance, they were about to leave him ; 
 “ I am an unworthy and humble follower of one 
 who taught not the damnable principle of re- 
 venge. Should I fall, therefore, seek no victims 
 to my manes, but rather forgive my destroyers ; 
 and, if you remember them at all, let it be in 
 prayers for the enlightening of their minds, and 
 for their eternal welfare.” 
 
 The scout hesitated, and appeared to muse. 
 
 “ There is a principle in that,” he said, “dif- 
 ferent from the law of the woods ; and yet it is 
 fair and noble to reflect upon.” Then, heaving a 
 heavy sigh, probably among the last he ever drew 
 in pining for a condition he had so long aban- 
 doned, he added : “ It is what I would wish to 
 practise myself, as one w ithout a cross of blood, 
 though it is not always easy to deal with an In- 
 dian as you would with a fellow-Christian. God 
 bless you, friend ; I do believe your scent is not 
 greatly wrong, when the matter is duly con- 
 sidered, and keeping eternity before the eyes, 
 though much depends on the natural gifts and 
 the force of temptation.” 
 
 So saying, the scout returned and shook Da- 
 vid cordially by the hand; after which act of 
 friendship he immediately left the lodge, attended 
 by the new representative of the beast. 
 
 The instant Hawk-eye found himself under 
 the observation of the Hurons, he drew up his 
 tall form in the rigid manner of David, threw out 
 his arm in the act of keeping time, and com- 
 menced what he intended for an imitation of his 
 psalmody. Happily for the success of this deli- 
 cate adventure, he had to deal with ears but little 
 practised in the concord of sweet sounds, or the 
 miserable effort would infallibly have been de- 
 tected. It was necessary to pass within a danger- 
 ous proximity of the dark group of the savages, 
 and the voice of the scout grew louder as they 
 drew nigher. When at the nearest point, the 
 Huron who spoke the English thrust out an arm, 
 and stopped the supposed singing-master. 
 
 “ The Delaware dog ! ” he said, leaning for 
 ward and peering through the dim light to catch 
 the expression of the other’s features ; “ is ho 
 afraid? will the Hurons hear his groans? ” 
 
TBE INDIAN VILLAGE ALARMED. 
 
 137 
 
 A growl so exceedingly fierce and natural pro- 
 ceeded from the beast, that the young Indian re- 
 . eased his hold and started aside, as if to assure 
 himself that it was not a veritable bear and no 
 counterfeit that was rolling before him. Hawk- 
 eye, who feared his voice would betray him to 
 his subtle enemies, gladly profited by the inter- 
 ruption to break out anew in such a burst of 
 musical expression as would, probably, in a more 
 refined state of society have been termed “a 
 grand crash.” Among his actual auditors, how- 
 ever, it merely gave him an additional claim to 
 that respect which they never withhold from such 
 as are believed to be the subjects of mental 
 alienation. The little knot of Indians drew back 
 in a body, and suffered, as they thought, the con- 
 jurer and his inspired assistant to proceed. 
 
 It required no common exercise of fortitude 
 in Uncas and the scout to continue the dignified 
 and deliberate pace they had assumed in passing 
 the lodges ; especially as they immediately per- 
 ceived that curiosity had so far mastered fear as 
 to induce the watchers to approach the hut, in 
 order to witness the effect of the incantations. 
 The least injudicious or impatient movement on 
 the part of David might betray them, and time 
 was absolutely necessary to insure the safety of 
 the scout. The loud noise the latter conceived 
 it politic to continue, drew many curious gazers 
 to the doors of the different huts as they passed ; 
 and once or twice a dark-looking warrior stepped 
 across their path, led to the act by superstition 
 or watchfulness. They were not, however, inter- 
 rupted ; the darkness of the hour, and the bold- 
 ness of the attempt, proving their principal 
 friends. 
 
 The adventurers had got clear of the village, 
 and were now swiftly approaching the shelter of 
 the woods, when a loud and long cry arose from 
 the lodge where Uncas had been confined. The 
 Mohican started on his feet and shook his shaggy 
 covering, as though the animal he counterfeited 
 was about to make some desperate effort. 
 
 “ Hold ! ” said the scout, grasping his friend 
 by the shoulder, “ let them yell again ! ’Twas 
 nothing but wonderment.” 
 
 He had no occasion to delay, for the next in- 
 stant a burst of cries filled the outer air and ran 
 along the whole extent of the village. Uncas 
 cast his skin, and stepped forth in his own beauti- 
 ful proportions. Hawk-eye tapped him lightly on 
 the shoulder, and glided ahead. 
 
 “ Now let the devils strike our scent ! ” said 
 the scout, tearing two rifles, with all their atten- 
 dant accoutrements, from beneath a bush, and 
 flourishing “ Kill-deer ” as he handed Uncas his 
 
 weapon ; “ two, at least, will fii d it to their 
 deaths.” 
 
 Then throwing their pieces to a low trail, like 
 sportsmen in readiness for their game, they 
 dashed forward, and were soon buried in the 
 sombre darkness of the forest. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 '•'•Ant. I shall remember: 
 
 ■WTien Caesar says, Do this , it is performed.” 
 
 Julius Cjesab. 
 
 Tiie impatience of the savages who lingered 
 about the prison of Uncas, as has been seen, had 
 overcome their dread of the conjurer’s breath. 
 They stole, cautiously and with beating hearts, to 
 a crevice through which the faint light of the fire 
 was glimmering. For several minutes they mis- 
 took the form of David for that of their prisoner ; 
 but the very accident which Hawk-eye had fore- 
 seen occurred. Tired of keeping the extremities 
 of his long person so near together, the singer 
 gradually suffered the lower limbs to extend 
 themselves until one of his misshapen feet actually 
 came in contact with and shoved aside the embers 
 of the fire. At first the Hurons believed the 
 Delaware had been thus deformed by witchcraft* 
 But when David, unconscious of being observed, 
 turned his head and exposed his simple, mild 
 countenance, in place of the haughty lineaments 
 of their prisoner, it would have exceeded the 
 credulity of even a native to have doubted any 
 longer. They rushed together into the lodge, 
 and laying their hands, with but little ceremony, 
 on their captive, immediately detected the impo- 
 sition. Then arose the cry first heard by the 
 fugitives. It was succeeded by the most frantic 
 and angry demonstrations of vengeance. David, 
 however firm in his determination to cover the 
 retreat of his friends, was compelled to believe 
 that his own final hour had come. Deprived of 
 his book and his pipe, he was fain to trust to a 
 memory that rarely failed him on such subjects; 
 and, breaking forth in a loud and impassioned 
 strain, he endeavored to smooth his passage into 
 the other world by singing the opening verse of a 
 funeral anthem. The Indians were seasonably 
 reminded of his infirmity, and, rushing into the 
 open air, they aroused the village in the manner 
 described. 
 
 A native warrior fights as he sleeps, without 
 the protection of any thing defensive. The sounds 
 of the alarm were, therefore, hardly uttered, before 
 two hundred men were afoot, and ready for the 
 
138 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 battle or the chase, as either might be required. 
 The escape was soon known ; and the whole tribe 
 crowded, in a body, around the council-lodge, im- 
 patiently awaiting the instruction of their chiefs, 
 In such a sudden demand on their wisdom, the 
 presence of the cunning Magua could scarcely 
 fail of being needed. His name was mentioned, 
 and all looked round in wonder that he did not 
 appear. Messengers were then dispatched to his 
 lodge, requiring his presence. 
 
 In the mean time, some of the swiftest and 
 most discreet of the young men were ordered 
 to make the circuit of the clearing, under cover 
 of the woods, in order to ascertain that their 
 suspected neighbors, the Delawares, designed no 
 mischief. Women and children ran to and fro; 
 and, in short, the whole encampment exhibited 
 another scene of wild and savage confusion. 
 Gradually, however, these symptoms of disorder 
 diminished ; and in a few minutes the oldest and 
 most distinguished chiefs were assembled in the 
 lodge, in grave consultation. 
 
 The clamor of many voices soon announced 
 that a party approached, who might be expected 
 to communicate some intelligence that would ex- 
 plain the mystery of the novel surprise. The 
 crowd without gave way, and several warriors en- 
 tered the place, bringing with them the hapless 
 conjurer, who had been left so long by the scout 
 in duresse. 
 
 Notwithstanding this man was held in very un- 
 equal estimation among the Hurons, some believ- 
 ing implicitly in his power, and others deeming 
 him an impostor, he was now listened to by all with 
 the deepest attention. When his brief story was 
 ended, the father of the sick woman stepped forth, 
 and, in a few pithy expressions, related, in his 
 turn, what he knew. These two narratives gave 
 a proper direction to the subsequent inquiries, 
 which were now made with the characteristic 
 cunning of savages. 
 
 Instead of rushing in a confused and dis- 
 orderly throng to the cavern, ten of the wisest and 
 firmest among the chiefs were selected to prosecute 
 the investigation. As no time was to be lost, the 
 instant the choice was made the individuals ap- 
 pointed rose in a body, and left the place without 
 speaking. On reaching the entrance, the younger 
 men in advance made way for their seniors ; and 
 the whole proceeded along the low, dark gallery, 
 with the firmness of warriors ready to devote 
 themselves to the public good, though, at the 
 same time, secretly doubting the nature of the 
 power with which they were about to contend. 
 
 The outer apartment of the cavern was silent 
 and gloomy. The woman lay in her usual place 
 
 and posture, though there were those present 
 who affirmed they had seen her borne to the woods, 
 by the supposed “ medicine of the white men.” 
 Such a direct and palpable contradiction of the 
 tale related by the father, caused all eyes to be 
 turned on him. Chafed by the silent imputation, 
 and inwardly troubled by so unaccountable a 
 circumstance, the chief advanced to the side of 
 the bed, and, stooping, cast an incredulous look at 
 the features, as if distrusting their reality. His 
 daughter was dead. 
 
 The unerring feeling of nature for a moment 
 prevailed, and the old warrior hid his eyes in 
 sorrow. Then, recovering his self-possession, he 
 faced his companions, and, pointing toward the 
 corpse, he said, in the language of his people : 
 
 “ The wife of my young man has left us ! the 
 Great Spirit is angry with his children.” 
 
 The mournful intelligence was received in 
 solemn silence. After a short pause, one of the 
 elder Indians was about to speak, when a dark- 
 looking object was seen rolling out of an adjoin- 
 ing apartment, into the very centre of the room 
 where they stood. Ignorant of the nature of the 
 beings they had to deal with, the whole party 
 drew back a little, and gazed in admiration, until 
 the object fronted the light, and, rising on end, 
 exhibited the distorted but still fierce and sullen 
 features of Magua. The discovery was succeeded 
 by a general exclamation of amazement. 
 
 As soon, however, as the true situation of the 
 chief was understood, several ready knives ap- 
 peared, and his limbs and tongue were quickly 
 released. The Huron arose, and shook himself 
 like a lion quitting his lair. Not a word escaped 
 him, though his hand played convulsively with 
 the handle of his knife, while his lowering eyes 
 scanned the whole party, as if they sought an 
 object suited to the first burst of his vengeance. 
 
 It was happy for Uncas and the scout, and 
 even David, that they were all beyond the reach 
 of his arm at such a moment ; for, assuredly, no 
 refinement in cruelty would then have deferred 
 their deaths, in opposition to the promptings of 
 the fierce temper that nearly choked him. Meet- 
 ing everywhere faces that he knew as friends, 
 the savage grated his teeth together like rasps of 
 iron, and swallowed his passion for want of a vic- 
 tim on whom to vent it. This exhibition of anger 
 was noted by all present ; and, from an apprehen- 
 sion of exasperating a temper that was already 
 chafed nearly to madness, several minutes were 
 suffered to pass before another word was uttered. 
 When, however, suitable time had elapsed, the 
 oldest of the party spoke. 
 
 “My friend has found an enemy,” he said. 
 
THE CHIEFS IN COUNCIL. 
 
 139 
 
 ,4 Ja he nigh, that the Hurons may take re- 
 venge ? ” 
 
 “ Let the Delaware die ! ” exclaimed Magua, 
 in a voice of thunder. 
 
 Another long and expressive silence was ob- 
 served, and was broken, as before, with due pre- 
 caution, by the same individual. 
 
 « The Mohican is swift of foot, and leaps far,” 
 he said ; “but my young men are on his trail.” 
 
 “ Is he gone ? ” demanded Magua in tones so 
 deep and guttural, that they seemed to proceed 
 from his inmost chest. 
 
 “ An evil spirit has been among us, and the 
 Delaware has blinded our eyes.” 
 
 “ An evil spirit ! ” repeated the other, mock- 
 ingly ; “ ’tis the spirit that has taken the lives of 
 so many Hurons. The spirit that slew my young 
 men at * the tumbling river ; ’ that took their 
 scalps at the ‘ healing spring ; ’ and who has, now, 
 bound the arms of Le Renard Subtil ! ” 
 
 “ Of whom does my friend speak ? ” 
 
 “ Of the dog who carries the heart and cun- 
 ning of a Huron under a pale skin — La longue 
 Carabine ! ” 
 
 The pronunciation of so terrible a name pro- 
 duced the usual effect among his auditors. But 
 when time was given for reflection, and the war- 
 riors remembered that their formidable and dar- 
 ing enemy had even been in the bosom of their 
 encampment, working injury, fearful rage took 
 the place of wonder, and all those fierce passions 
 with which the bosom of Magua had just been 
 struggling were suddenly transferred to his com- 
 panions. Some among them gnashed their teeth 
 in anger, others vented their feelings in yells, and 
 some, again, beat the air as frantically as if the ob- 
 ject of their resentment were suffering under their 
 blows. But this sudden outbreaking of temper 
 as quickly subsided in the still and sullen restraint 
 they most affected, in their moments of inaction. 
 
 Magua, who had, in his turn, found leisure for 
 reflection, now changed his manner, and assumed 
 the air of one who knew how to think and act 
 with a dignity worthy of so grave a subject. 
 
 “ Let us go to my people,” he said ; “ they 
 wait for us.” 
 
 His companions consented in silence, and the 
 whole of the savage party left the cavern and re- 
 turned to the council-lodge. When they were 
 seated, all eyes turned on Magua, who understood, 
 from the indication, that, by common consent, 
 they had devolved the duty of relating what had 
 passed on him. He arose, and told his tale, with- 
 out duplicity or reservation. The whole decep- 
 tion practised by both Duncan and Hawk-eye 
 was, of course, laid naked ; and no room was 
 
 found, even for the most superstitious of the tribe, 
 any longer to affix a doubt on the character of 
 the occurrences. It was but too apparent that 
 they had been insultingly, shamefully, disgrace- 
 fully deceived. When he had ended and re- 
 sumed his seat, the collected tribe — for his audi- 
 tors, in substance, included all the fighting-men 
 of the party-— sat regarding each other like men 
 astonished equally at the audacity and the success 
 of their enemies. The next consideration, how- 
 ever, was the means and opportunities for re- 
 venge. 
 
 Additional pursuers were sent on the trail 
 of the fugitives; and then the chiefs applied 
 themselves, in earnest, to the business of consul- 
 tation. Many different expedients were proposed 
 by the elder warriors, in succession, to all of 
 which Magua was a silent and respectful lis- 
 tener. That subtle savage had recovered his ar- 
 tifice and self-command, and now proceeded tow- 
 ard his object with his customary caution and 
 skill. It was only when each one disposed to 
 speak had uttered his sentiments, that he pre- 
 pared to advance his own opinions. They were 
 given with additional weight from the circum- 
 stance that some of the runners had already re- 
 turned, and reported that their enemies had been 
 traced so far as to leave no doubt of their having 
 sought safety in the neighboring camp of their 
 suspected allies, the Delawares. With the ad- 
 vantage of possessing this important intelligence, 
 the chief warily laid his plans before his fellows, 
 and, as might have been anticipated from his elo- 
 quence and cunning, they were adopted without 
 a dissenting voice. They were, briefly, as follows, 
 both in opinions and in motives : 
 
 It has been already stated that, in obedience 
 to a policy rarely departed from, the sisters were 
 separated so soon as they reached the Huron vil- 
 lage. Magua had early discovered that, in retain- 
 ing the person of Alice, he possessed the most 
 effectual check on Cora. When they parted, 
 therefore, he kept the former within reach of his 
 hand, consigning the one he most valued to the 
 keeping of their allies. The arrangement was 
 understood to be merely temporary, and was 
 made as much with a view to flatter his neighbors 
 as in obedience to the invariable rule of Indian 
 policy. 
 
 While goaded incessantly by those revengeful 
 impulses that in a savage seldom slumber, the 
 chief was still attentive to his more permanent 
 personal interests. The follies and disloyalty 
 committed in his youth were to oe expiated by a 
 long and painful penance ere he could be restored 
 to the full enjoyment of the confidence of his an 
 
140 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 cient people ; and without confidence there could 
 be no authority in the Indian tribe. In this deli- 
 cate and arduous situation, the crafty native had 
 neglected no means of increasing his influence ; 
 and one of the happiest of his expedients had 
 been the success with which he had cultivated 
 the favor of their powerful and dangerous neigh- 
 bors. The result of his experiment had answered 
 all the expectations of his policy ; for the Hurons 
 were in no degree exempt from that governing 
 principle of Nature, which induces man to value 
 his gifts precisely in the degree that they are ap- 
 preciated by others. 
 
 But, while he was making this ostensible sac- 
 rifice to general considerations, Magua never lost 
 sight of his individual motives. The latter had 
 been frustrated by the unlooked-for events which 
 had placed all his prisoners beyond his control ; 
 and he now found himself reduced to the neces- 
 sity of suing for favors to those whom it had so 
 lately been his policy to oblige. 
 
 Several of the chiefs had proposed deep and 
 treacherous schemes to surprise the Delawares, 
 and, by gaining possession of their camp, to re- 
 cover their prisoners by the same blow ; for all 
 agreed that their honor, their interests, and the 
 peace and happiness of their dead countrymen, 
 imperiously required them speedily to immolate 
 some victims to their revenge. But plans so 
 dangerous to attempt, and of such doubtful issue, 
 Magua found little difficulty in defeating. He 
 exposed their risk and fallacy with his usual 
 skill ; and it was only after he had removed every 
 impediment, in the shape of opposing advice, 
 that he ventured to propose his own projects. 
 
 He commenced by flattering the self-love of 
 his auditors ; a never-failing method of command- 
 ing attention. When he had enumerated the 
 many different occasions on which the Hurons 
 had exhibited their courage and prowess, in the 
 punishment of insults, he digressed in a high en- 
 comium on the virtue of wisdom. He painted 
 the quality, as forming the great point of differ- 
 ence between the beaver and other brutes ; be- 
 tween brutes and men ; and, finally, between the 
 Hurons, in particular, and the rest of the human 
 race. After he had sufficiently extolled the prop- 
 erty of discretion, he undertook to exhibit in 
 what manner its use was applicable to the present 
 situation of their tribe. On the one hand, he 
 said, was their great pale father, the Governor of 
 the Canadas, who had looked upon his children 
 with a hard eye, since their tomahawks had been 
 so red ; on the other, a people as numerous as 
 themselves, who spoke a different language, pos- 
 sessed different interests, and loved them not, 
 
 and who would be glad of any pretence to bring 
 them in disgrace with the great white chief. 
 Then he spoke of their necessities ; of the gifts 
 they had a right to expect for their past services 
 of their distance from their proper hunting, 
 grounds and native villages ; and of the necessity 
 of consulting prudence more, and inclination less, 
 in so critical circumstances. When he pierceived 
 that, while the old men applauded his modera- 
 tion, many of the fiercest and most distinguished 
 of the warriors listened to these politic plans 
 with lowering looks, he cunningly led them back 
 to the subject which they most loved. He spoke 
 openly of the fruits of their wisdom, which he 
 boldly pronounced would be a complete and final 
 triumph over their enemies. He even darkly 
 hinted that their success might be extended, with 
 proper caution, in such a manner as to include 
 the destruction of all whom they had reason to 
 hate. In short, he so blended the warlike with 
 the artful, the obvious with the obscure, as to 
 flatter the propensities of both parties, and to 
 leave to each subject of hope, while neither could 
 say it clearly comprehended his intentions. 
 
 The orator, or the politician, who can produce 
 such a state of things, is commonly popular with 
 his contemporaries, however he may be treated 
 by posterity. All perceived that more was meant 
 than was uttered, and each one believed that the 
 hidden meaning was precisely such as his own 
 faculties enabled him to understand, or his own 
 wishes led him to anticipate. 
 
 In this happy state of things, it is not surpris- 
 ing that the management of Magua prevailed. 
 The tribe consented to act with deliberation, and 
 with one voice they committed the direction of 
 the whole affair to the government of the chief 
 who had suggested such wise and intelligible ex 
 pedients. 
 
 Magua had now attained one great object of 
 all his cunning and enterprise. The ground he 
 had lost in the favor of his people was completely 
 regained, and he found himself even placed at 
 the head of affairs. He was, in truth, their ruler ; 
 and, so long as he could maintain his popularity, 
 no monarch could be more despotic, especially 
 while the tribe continued in a hostile country. 
 Throwing off, therefore, the appearance of con- 
 sultation, he assumed the grave air of authorit) 
 necessary to support the dignity of his office. 
 
 Runners were dispatched for intelligence in dif- 
 ferent directions ; spies were ordered to approach 
 and feel the encampment of the Delawares ; the 
 warriors were dismissed to their lodges, with an 
 intimation that their services would 60on b« 
 needed ; and the women and children were on 
 
MAGUA AND HIS PARTY. 
 
 141 
 
 , dered to retire, with a warning that it was their 
 province to be silent. When these several ar- 
 ' rangements were made, Magua passed through 
 ! the village, stopping here and there to pay a visit 
 where he thought his presence might be flatter- 
 I ing to the individual. He confirmed his friends 
 [ in their confidence, fixed the wavering, and 
 | gratified all. Then he sought his own lodge. 
 1 The wife the Huron chief had abandoned, when 
 he was chased from among his people, was dead. 
 Children, he had none ; and he now occupied a 
 hut, without companion of any sort. It was, in 
 fact, the dilapidated and solitary structure in 
 which David had been discovered, and whom he 
 had tolerated in his presence, on those few occa- 
 sions when they met, with the contemptuous in- 
 difference of a haughty superiority. 
 
 Hither, then, Magua retired, when his labors 
 of policy were ended. While others slept, how- 
 ever, he neither knew nor sought repose. Had 
 there been one sufficiently curious to have 
 watched the movements of the newly-elected 
 flxief, he would have seen him seated in a corner 
 ff his lodge, musing on the subject of his future 
 plans, from the hour of his retirement to the time 
 ae had appointed for the warriors to assemble 
 igain. Occasionally the air breathed through 
 the crevices of the hut, and the low flame that 
 fluttered about the embers of the fire threw their 
 wavering light on the person of the sullen recluse. 
 At such moments it would not have been difficult 
 to have fancied the dusky savage the Prince of 
 Darkness, brooding on his own fancied wrongs, 
 and plotting evils. 
 
 Long before the day dawned, however, war- 
 rior after warrior entered the solitary hut of Ma- 
 gua, until they had collected to the number of 
 twenty. Each bore his rifle, and all the other ac- 
 coutrements of war, though the paint was uni- 
 formly peaceful. The entrance of these fierce- 
 looking beings was unnoticed ; some seating 
 themselves in the shadows of the place, and others 
 standing like motionless statues, until the whole 
 of the designated band was collected. 
 
 Then Magua arose and gave the signal to pro- 
 ceed, marching himself in advance. They fol- 
 lowed their leader singly, and in that well-known 
 order which has obtained the distinguishing ap- 
 pellation of “ Indian file.” Unlike other men en- 
 gaged in the spirit-stirring business of war, they 
 stole from their camp unostentatiously and unob- 
 served, resembling a band of gliding spectres, 
 more than warriors seeking the bubble reputation 
 by deeds of desperate daring. 
 
 Instead of taking the path which led directly 
 toward the camp of the Delawares, Magua led his 
 
 party for some distance down the windings of 
 the stream, and along the little artificial lake of 
 the beavers. The day began to dawn as they en- 
 tered the clearing which had been formed by 
 those sagacious and industrious animals. Though 
 Magua, who had resumed his ancient garb, bore 
 the outline of a fox on the dressed skin which 
 formed his robe, there was one chief of his party 
 who carried the beaver as his peculiar symbol or 
 “ totem.” There would have been a species of 
 profanity in the omission, had this man passed so 
 powerful a community of his fancied kindred, 
 without bestowing some evidence of his regard. 
 Accordingly, he paused, and spoke in words as 
 kind and friendly as if he were addressing more 
 intelligent beings, He called the animals his 
 cousins, and reminded them that his protecting 
 influence was the reason they remained unharmed, 
 while so many avaricious traders were prompting 
 the Indians to take their lives. He promised a 
 continuance of his favors, and admonished them 
 to be grateful After which, he spoke of the ex- 
 pedition in which he was himself engaged, and 
 intimated, though with sufficient delicacy and cir- 
 cumlocution, the expediency of bestowing on 
 their relative a portion of that wisdom for which 
 they were so renowned.* 
 
 During the utterance of this extraordinary 
 address, the companions of the speaker were as 
 grave and as attentive to his language as though 
 they were all equally impressed with its propriety. 
 Once or twice black objects were seen rising to 
 the surface of the water, and the Huron expressed 
 pleasure, conceiving that his words were not be- 
 stowed in vain. Just as he had ended his ad- 
 dress, the head of a large beaver was thrust from 
 the door of a lodge, whose earthen walls had 
 been much injured, and which the whole party had 
 believed, from its situation, to be uninhabited. 
 Such an extraordinary sign of confidence was re- 
 ceived by the orator as a highly-favorable omen ; 
 and though the animal retreated a little precipi- 
 tately, he was lavish of his thanks and commen- 
 dations. 
 
 When Magua thought sufficient time had been 
 lost in gratifying the family affection of the war 
 rior, he again made the signal to proceed. As 
 the Indians moved away in a body, and with a 
 step that would have been inaudible to the ears 
 of any common man, the same venerable-looking 
 beaver once more ventured his head from its cov. 
 
 * These harangues of the beasts are frequent among the 
 Indians. They often address their victims in this way, re- 
 proaching them for cowardice, or commending their resolu- 
 tion, as they may happen to exhibit fortitude or the reverse, 
 iu suffering. 
 
142 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 er. Had any of the Hurons turned to look be- 
 hind them, they would have seen the animal 
 watching their movements with an interest and 
 sagacity that might easily have been mistaken 
 for reason. Indeed, so very distinct and intelli- 
 gible were the devices of the quadruped, that even 
 the most experienced observer would have been 
 at a loss to account for its actions, until the mo- 
 ment when the party entered the forest, when the 
 whole would have been explained, by seeing the 
 entire animal issue from the lodge, uncasing, by 
 the act, the grave features of Chingachgook from 
 his mask of fur. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 “Brief; I pray you; for you see, ’tis a busy time with me.” 
 
 Muon Ado About Nothing. 
 
 The tribe, or rather half tribe, of Delawares, 
 which has been so often mentioned, and whose 
 present place of encampment was so nigh the 
 temporary village of the Hurons, could assemble 
 about an equal number of warriors with the lat- 
 ter. people. Like their neighbors, they had fol- 
 lowed Montcalm into the territories of the Eng- 
 lish crown, and were making h«avy and serious 
 inroads on the hunting-grounds of the Mohawks ; 
 though they had seen fit, with the mysterious 
 reserve so common among the natives, to with- 
 hold their assistance at the moment when it was 
 most required. The French had accounted for 
 this unexpected defection on the part of their ally 
 in various ways. It was the prevalent opinion, 
 however, that they had been influenced by ven- 
 eration for the ancient treaty, that had once made 
 them dependent on the Six Nations for military 
 protection, and now rendered them reluctant to 
 encounter their former masters. As for the tribe 
 itself, it had been content to announce to Mont- 
 calm, through his. emissaries, with Indian brevity, 
 that their hatchets were dull, and time was neces- 
 sary to sharpen them. The politic Captain of the 
 Canadas had deemed it wiser to submit to enter- 
 tain a passive friend, than by any acts of ill- 
 judged severity to convert him into an open 
 enemy. 
 
 On that morning when Magua led his silent 
 party from the settlement of the beavers into the 
 forest, in the manner described, the sun rose up- 
 on the Delaware encampment, as if it had sudden- 
 ly burst upon a busy people, actively employed 
 in all the customary avocations of high noon. 
 The women ran from lodge to lodge, some en- 
 gaged in preparing their mornings meal, a few 
 
 earnestly bent on seeking the comforts necessary 
 to their habits, but more pausing to exchange 
 hasty and whispered sentences with their friends. 1 
 The warriors were lounging in groups, musing ^ 
 more than they conversed ; and when a few words 
 were uttered, speaking like men who deeply 
 weighed their opinions. The instruments of 
 the chase were to be seen in abundance among 
 the lodges ; but none departed. Here and there 
 a warrior was examining his arms, with an atten- 
 tion that is rarely bestowed on the implements, 
 when no other enemy than the beasts of the 
 forest is expected to be encountered. And, oc 
 casionally, the eyes of a whole group were turned 
 simultaneously toward a large and silent lodge in 
 the centre of the village, as if it contained the 
 subject of their common thoughts. 
 
 During the existence of this scene, a man 
 suddenly appeared at the farthest extremity of a 1 
 platform of rock which formed the level of the * 
 village. He was without arms, and his piint 
 tended rather to soften than increase the natural 
 sternness of his austere countenance. When >n^ 
 full view of the Delawares he stopped, and made® 
 a gesture of amity, by throwing his arm upward® 
 toward heaven, and then letting it fall impressive ■ 
 ly on his breast. The inhabitants of the villagr® 
 answered his salute by a low murmur of welcome;® 
 and encouraged him to advance by similar indi-® 
 cations of friendship. Fortified by these assur-® 
 ances, the dark figure left the brow of the natu-'a 
 ral rocky terrace, where it had stood a moment J 
 drawn in a strong outline against the blushing® 
 morning sky, and moved with dignity into tho^ 
 very centre of the huts. As he approached, i 
 nothing was audible but the rattling of the light 
 silver ornaments that loaded his arms and neck, 
 and the tinkling of the little bells that fringed 
 his deer-skin moccasins. He made, as he ad- 
 vanced, many courteous signs of greeting to the 
 men he passed, neglecting to notice the women, 
 however, like one who deemed their favor, in the 
 present enterprise, of no importance. When he 
 had reached the group in which it was evident, 
 by the haughtiness of their common mien, that 
 the principal chiefs were collected, the stranger 
 paused, and then the Delawares saw that the ac- 
 tive and erect form that stood before them was 
 that of the well-known Huron chief, Le Renard 
 Subtil. 
 
 His reception was grave, silent, and wary. 
 The warriors in front stepped aside, opening the 
 way to their most-approved orator by the action ; 
 one who spoke all those languages that were cul- 
 tivated among the northern aborigines. 
 
 “ The wise Huron is welcome,” said the Del&» 
 
THE HURON CHIEF AMONG THE DELAWARES. 
 
 y/ui 
 
 IOTI bd, 
 spJ *t, 
 
 ^te 
 
 a ‘em 
 
 wa 1 e, in the language of the Maquas; “he is 
 cci ,ie to eat lus ‘ succa-tash,’ * with his brothers 
 
 of i he lakes.” 
 
 a‘‘He is come,” repeated Magua, bending his 
 hettd with the dignity of an Eastern prince. 
 
 5 The chief extended his arm, and, taking the 
 otli r by the wrist, they once more exchanged 
 fric idly salutations. Then the Delaware invited 
 liisflmest to enter his own lodge, and share his 
 mo ling meal. The invitation was accepted ; and 
 the )f ,wo warriors, attended by three or four of the 
 old nen, walked calmly away, leaving the rest of 
 the ribe devoured by a desire to understand the 
 reas >ns of so unusual a visit, and yet not betray, 
 ing ae least impatience by sign or word. 
 
 y)uring the short and frugal repast that fol- 
 the conversation was extremely circum- 
 and related entirely to the events of the 
 hul t, in which Magua had so lately been engaged. 
 It | ould have been impossible for the most fin- 
 ish! d breeding to wear more of the appearance 
 of . msidering the visit as a thing of course, than 
 didjnis host- notwithstanding every individual 
 <ore ent was perfectly aware that it must be con- 
 l iet dwith some secret object, and that probably 
 Iif portance to themselves. When the appe- | 
 of the whole were appeased, the squaws 
 >ved the trenchers and gourds, and the two 
 barttes began to prepare themselves for a subtle 
 M'ial :>f their wits. 
 
 the face of my great Canada father 
 'urnul again toward his Huron children?” de- 
 ■na ded the orator of the Delawares. 
 
 ‘When was it ever otherwise?” returned 
 M a. “ He calls my people ‘ most beloved.’ ” 
 
 The Delaware gravely bowed his acquiescence 
 to hat he knew to be false, and continued : 
 
 ‘The tomahawks of your young men have 
 ben very red ! ” 
 
 ^It is so ; but they are now bright and dull ; 
 for ; ie Yengeese are dead, and the Delawares are 
 oui neighbors.” 
 
 he other acknowledged the pacific compli- 
 me - by a gesture of the hand, and remained 
 silo . Then Magua, as if recalled to such a rec- 
 oils ion, by the allusion to the massacre, de- 
 nuded : 
 
 ‘ Does my prisoner give trouble to my broth- 
 ers ” 
 
 She is welcome.” 
 
 The path between the Hurons and the Dela- 
 wa s i3 short, and it is open ; let her be sent to 
 
 quaws, if she gives trouble to my brother.” 
 
 A disk composed of cracked com and beans. It is 
 uul» used also by the whites. By oorn is meant maize. 
 
 5 
 
 143 
 
 “ She is welcome,” returned the chief of the 
 latter nation, still more emphatically. 
 
 The baffled Magua continued silent several 
 minutes, apparently indifferent, however, to the 
 repulse he nad received in this his opening effort 
 to regain possession of Cora. 
 
 “ Do my young men leave the Delawares 
 room on the mountains for their hunts ? ” he at 
 length continued. 
 
 “The Lenape are rulers of their own hills,” 
 returned the other, a little haughtily. 
 
 “ It is well. Justice is the master of a red- 
 skin! Why should they brighten their toma- 
 hawks, and sharpen their knives, against each 
 other ? Are not the pale-faces thicker than the 
 swallows in the season of flowers ? ” 
 
 “ Good ! ” exclaimed two or three of his audi- 
 tors at the same time. 
 
 Magua waited a little, to permit his words to 
 soften the feelings of the Delawares, before he 
 added : 
 
 “ Have there not been strange moccasins in 
 the woods ? Have not my brothers scented the 
 feet of white men ? ” 
 
 “ Let my Canada father come,” returned the 
 other, evasively ; “ his children are ready to see 
 him.” 
 
 “ When the great chief comes, it is to smoke 
 with the Indians in their wigwams. The Hurons 
 say, too, he is welcome. But the Yengeese have 
 long arms, and legs that never tire ! My young 
 men dreamed they had seen the trail of the Yen- 
 geese nigh the village of the Delawares ! ” 
 
 “They will not find the Lenape asleep.” 
 
 “ It is well. The warrior whose eye is open 
 can see his enemy,” said Magua, once more shift- 
 ing his ground when he found himself unable to 
 penetrate the caution of his companion. “ I 
 have brought gifts to my brother. His nation 
 would not go on the war-path, because they did 
 not think it well ; but their friends have remem- 
 bered where they lived.” 
 
 When he had thus announced his liberal in- 
 tention, the crafty chief arose and gravely spread 
 his presents before the dazzled eyes of his hosts. 
 They consisted principally of trinkets of little 
 value, plundered from the slaughtered females ol 
 William Henry. In the division of the bawblea 
 the cunning Huron discovered no less art than in 
 their selection. While he bestowed those of 
 greater value on the two most distinguished 
 warriors, one of whom was his host, he seasoned 
 his offerings to their inferiors with such well 
 timed and apposite compliments as left them no 
 grounds of complaint. In short, the whole cere- 
 mony contained such a happy blending of tho 
 
144 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 profitable with the flattering, that it was not diffi- 
 cult for the donor immediately to read the effect 
 of a generosity, so aptly mingled with praise, in 
 the eyes of those he addressed. 
 
 This well-judged and politic stroke on the 
 part of Magua was not without instantaneous 
 results. The Delawares lost their gravity in a 
 much more cordial expression ; and the host, in 
 particular, after contemplating his own liberal 
 share of the spoil for some moments with peculiar 
 gratification, repeated, with strong emphasis, the 
 words : 
 
 “ My brother is a wise chief. He is welcome.” 
 
 “The Hurons love their friends the Dela- 
 wares,” returned Magua. “Why should they 
 not ? they are colored by the same sun, and their 
 just men will hunt in the same grounds after 
 death. The red-skins should be friends, and 
 »ook with open eyes on the white men. Has not 
 my brother scented spies in the woods ? ” 
 
 The Delaware, whose name in English signi- 
 fied “ Hard heart,” an appellation that the French 
 nad translated into “ Le coeur-dur,” forgot that 
 obduracy of purpose had probably obtained him 
 so significant a title. His countenance grew very 
 sensibly less stern, and he now deigned to answer 
 more directly. 
 
 “ There have been strange moccasins about 
 my camp. They have been tracked into my 
 lodges.” 
 
 “Did my brother beat out the dogs ? ” asked 
 Magua, without adverting in any manner to the 
 former equivocation of the chief. 
 
 “ It would not do. The stranger is always 
 welcome to the children of the Lenape.” 
 
 “ The stranger, but not the spy.” 
 
 “ Would the Yengeese send their women as 
 spies ? Did not the Huron chief say he took 
 women in the battle ? ” 
 
 “He told no lie. The Yengeese have sent 
 out their scouts. They have been in my wig- 
 wams, but they found there no one to say wel- 
 come. Then they fled to the Delawares — for, say 
 they, the Delawares are our friends; their minds 
 are turned from their Canada father ! ” 
 
 This insinuation was a home thrust, and one 
 that, in a more advanced state of society, would 
 have entitled Magua to the reputation of a skilful 
 diplomatist. The recent defection of the tribe 
 had, as they well knew themselves, subjected the 
 Delawares to much reproach among their French 
 allies ; and they were now made to feel that their 
 future actions were to be regarded with jealousy 
 and distrust. There was no deep insight into 
 causes and effects necessary to foresee that such 
 a situation of things was likely to prove highly 
 
 prejudicial to their future movements. 1 rheir 
 distant villages, their hunting-grounds, and hun- 
 dreds of their women and children, together With 
 a material part of their physical force, were 'ctu- 
 ally within the limits of the French territory. 
 Accordingly, this alarming annunciation was re- I 
 ceived, as Magua intended, with manifest d^sap 
 probation, if not with alarm. !l 
 
 “ Let my father look in my face,” sai t Le > 
 coeur-dur; “he will see no change. It is 'true, J 
 my young men did not go out on the war-jVh ; I 
 they had dreams for not doing so. But the; fiove I 
 and venerate the great white chief.” 
 
 “ Will he think so when he hears tlv K his I 
 greatest enemy is fed in the camp of his chiluj ?n ? I 
 When he is told a bloody Yengee smokes at four 1 
 fire? That the pale-fhce who has slain so n cny 
 of his friends goes in and out among the Dela- 
 wares ? Go — my great Canada father is n< n a 
 fool!” !■* 
 
 “Where is the Yengee that the Delawares 
 fear ? ” returned the other ; “ who has slaiifcmy 
 young men ? who is the mortal enemy or my 
 Great Father ? ” lS 
 
 “ La longue Carabine ! ” 
 
 The Delaware warriors started at the ^ill- 
 known name, betraying, by their amazen£nt, 
 that they now learned, for the first time, ore' so 
 famous among the Indian allies of Franc was 
 within their power. 
 
 “ What does my brother mean ? ” dem ‘ \led 
 Le coeur-dur, in a tone that, by its wondu tar 
 exceeded the usual apathy of his race. 
 
 “ A Huron never lies ! ” returned Mr a, . 
 coldly, leaning his head against the side o t e 
 lodge, and drawing his slight robe across h \ 
 tawny breast. “ Let the Delawares count ie 
 prisoners ; they will find one whose skin is iei \ J 
 ther red nor pale.” 
 
 A long and musing pause succeeded. The \ 
 chief consulted apart with his companions, 'and \ 
 messengers were dispatched to collect cerain 
 others of the most distinguished men ofthe 
 tribe. 1 
 
 As warrior after warrior dropped in, n ey 
 were each made acquainted, in turn, witF 4 he 
 important intelligence that Magua had just n m- 
 municated. The air of surprise, and the usual w, 
 deep, guttural exclamation, were common to -m 
 all. The news spread from mouth to mouth, t il 
 the whole encampment became powerfully *i- 
 tated. The women suspended their laboi r to 
 catch such syllables as unguardedly fell frorrfie 
 lips of the consulting warriors. The boysle- 
 serted their sports, and, walking fearlessly anng 
 their fathers, looked up in curious admiration! 
 
ST. TAMENUND. 
 
 145 
 
 they heard the brief exclamations of wonder they 
 bo freely expressed at the temerity of their hated 
 foe. In short, every occupation was abandoned 
 for the time, and all other pursuits seemed dis- 
 carded, in order that the tribe might freely in- 
 dulge, after their own peculiar manner, in an 
 open expression of feeling. 
 
 When the excitement had a little abated, the 
 old men disposed themselves seriously to con- 
 sider that which it became the honor and safety 
 of their tribe to perform under circumstances of 
 so much delicacy and embarrassment. During 
 all these movements, and in the midst of the 
 general commotion, Magua had not only main- 
 tained his seat, but the very attitude, he had 
 originally taken, against the side of the lodge, 
 where he continued as immovable, and, apparent- 
 ly, as unconcerned; as if he had no interest in 
 the result. Not a single indication of the future 
 intentions of his hosts, however, escaped his vigi- 
 lant eyes. With his consummate knowledge of 
 the nature of the people with whom he had to 
 de»A he anticipated every measure on which they 
 decided ; and it might almost be said that, in 
 many instances, he knew their intentions even 
 before they became known to themselves. 
 
 The council of the Delawares was short. 
 When it was ended, a general bustle announced 
 that it was to be immediately succeeded by a 
 solemn and formal assemblage of the nation. As 
 such meetings were rare, and only called on oc- 
 casions of the last importance, the subtle Huron, 
 who still sat apart a wily and dark observer of 
 the proceedings, now knew that all his projects 
 must be brought to their final issue. He, there- 
 fore, left the lodge and walked silently forth to 
 the place, in front of the encampment, whither 
 the warriors were already beginning to collect. 
 
 It might have been half an hour before each 
 individual, including even the women and chil- 
 dren, was in his place. The delay had been cre- 
 ated by the grave preparations that were deemed 
 necessary to so solemn and unusual a conference. 
 But when the sun was seen climbing above the 
 tops of that mountain, against whose bosom the 
 Delawares had constructed their encampment, 
 most were seated ; and as his bright rays darted 
 from behind the outline of trees that fringed the 
 eminence, they fell upon as grave, as attentive, 
 and as deeply interested a multitude, as was prob- 
 ably ever before lighted by his morning beams. 
 Its number somewhat exceeded a thousand souls. 
 
 In a collection of so serious savages, there is 
 never to be found any impatient aspirant after 
 premature distinction, standing ready to move his 
 auditors to some hasty and perhaps injudicious 
 10 
 
 discussion, in order that his own reputation may 
 be the gainer. An act of so much precipitancy 
 and presumption would seal the downfall of pre- 
 cocious intellect forever. It rested solely with 
 the oldest and most experienced of the men to lay 
 the subject of the conference before the people. 
 Until such a one chose to make some movement, 
 no deeds in arms, no natural gifts, nor any renown 
 as an orator, would have justified the slightest in- 
 terruption. On the present occasion, the aged 
 warrior whose privilege it was to speak, was si- 
 lent, seemingly oppressed with the magnitude of 
 his subject. The delay had already continued 
 long beyond the usual deliberative pause that al- 
 ways precedes such a conference ; but no sign of 
 impatience or surprise escaped even the youngest 
 boy. Occasionally, an eye was raised from the 
 earth, where the looks of most were riveted, and 
 strayed toward a particular lodge, that was, how- 
 ever, in no manner distinguished fron those 
 around it, except in the peculiar care that had 
 been taken to protect it against the assaults of 
 the weather. 
 
 At length, one of those low murmurs that are 
 so apt to disturb a multitude, was heard, and the 
 whole nation arose to their feet by a common im- 
 pulse. At that instant the door of the lodge in 
 question opened, and, three men issuing from 
 it, slowly approached the place of consultation. 
 They were all aged, even beyond that period to 
 which the oldest present had reached ; but ono 
 in the centre, who leaned on his companions for 
 support, had numbered an amount of years to 
 which the human race is seldom permitted to at- 
 tain. His frame, which had once been tall and 
 erect, like the cedar, was now bending under the 
 pressure of more than a century. The elastic, 
 light step of an Indian was gone, and in its place 
 he was compelled to toil his tardy way over the 
 ground, inch by inch. His dark, wrinkled coun- 
 tenance was in singular and wild contrast with 
 the long white locks which floated on his shoul- 
 ders, in such thickness as to announce that gen- 
 erations had probably passed away since they 
 had last been shorn. 
 
 The dress of this patriarch — for such, consid- 
 ering his vast age, in conjunction with his affinity 
 and influence w ith his people, he might very prop- 
 erly be termed — was rich and imposing, though 
 strictly after the simple fashions of the tribe. 
 His robe was of the finest skins, which had been 
 deprived of their fur, in order to admit of a hiero- 
 glyphical representation of various deeds in arms, 
 done in former ages. His bosom was loaded with 
 medals, some in massive silver, and one or two 
 even in gold, the gifts oi various Christian po- 
 
146 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 tentates during the long period of his life. He 
 also wore armlets, and cinctures above the ankles, 
 of the latter precious metal. His head, on the 
 whole of which the hair had been permitted to 
 grow, the pursuits of war having so long been 
 abandoned, was encircled by a sort of plated dia- 
 dem, which, in its turn, bore lesser and more glit- 
 tering ornaments, that sparkled amid the glossy 
 hues of three drooping ostrich-feathers, dyed a 
 deep black, in touching contrast to the color of 
 his snow-white locks. His tomahawk was nearly 
 hid in silver, and the handle of his knife shone 
 like a horn of solid gold. 
 
 So soon as the first hum of emotion and pleas- 
 ure, which the sudden appearance of this vener- 
 ated individual created, had a little subsided, the 
 name of “ Tamenund ” was whispered from mouth 
 to mouth. Magua had often heard the fame of 
 this wise and just Delaware; a reputation that 
 even proceeded so far as to bestow on him the 
 rare gift of holding secret communion with the 
 Great Spirit, and which has since transmitted his 
 name, with some slight alteration, to the white 
 usurpers of his ancient territory, as the imagina- 
 ry tutelar saint * of a vast empire. The Huron 
 chief, therefore, stepped eagerly out a little from 
 the throng, to a spot whence he might catch a 
 nearer glimpse of the features of the man whose 
 decision was likely to produce so deep an influ- 
 ence on his own fortunes. 
 
 The eyes of the old man were closed, as though 
 the organs were wearied with having so long wit- 
 nessed the selfish workings of the human passions. 
 The color of his skin differed from that of most 
 around him, being richer and darker, the latter 
 hue having been produced by certain delicate and 
 mazy lines of complicated and yet beautiful fig- 
 ures, which had been traced over most of his per- 
 son by the operation of tattooing. Notwithstand- 
 ing the position of the Huron, he passed the ob- 
 servant and silent Magua without notice, and lean- 
 ing on his two venerable supporters proceeded to 
 the high place of the multitude, where he seated 
 himself in the centre of his nation, with the dig- 
 nity of a monarch amd the air of a father. 
 
 Nothing could surpass the reverence and af- 
 fection with which this unexpected visit from one 
 who belonged rather to another world than to this, 
 was received by his people. After a suitable and 
 decent pause, the principal chiefs arose ; and, ap- 
 proaching the patriarch, they placed his hands 
 reverently on their heads, seeming to entreat a 
 
 * The Americans sometimes call their tutelar saint Tam- 
 enay, a corruption of the name of the renowned chief here 
 Introduced. There are many traditions which speak of the 
 character and power of Tamenund. 
 
 blessing. The younger men were content with 
 touching his robe, or even drawing nigh his per- 
 son, in order to breathe in the atmosphere of one 
 so aged, so just, and so valiant. None but the 
 most distinguished among the youthful warriors 
 even presumed so far as to perform the latter cer- 
 emony ; the great mass of the multitude deeming 
 it a sufficient happiness to look upon a form so 
 deeply venerated, and so well beloved. When 
 these acts of affection and respect were performed, 
 the chiefs drew back again to their several places, 
 and silence reigned in the whole encampment. 
 
 After a short delay, a few of the young men, 
 to whom instructions had been whispered by one 
 of the aged attendants of Tamenund, arose, left 
 the crowd, and entered the lodge which has al- 
 ready been noted as the object of so much atten- 
 tion throughout that morning. In a few minutes 
 they reappeared, escorting the individuals who 
 had caused all these solemn preparations toward 
 the seat of judgment. The crowd opened in a 
 lane ; and, when the party had reentered, it closed 
 in again, forming a large and dense belt of human 
 bodies, arranged in an open circle. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 “ The assembly seated, rising o’er the rest, 
 
 Achilles thus the king of men addressed.” 
 
 Porn’s Homes. 
 
 Cora stood foremost among the prisoners, en- 
 twining her arms in those of Alice, in the tender- 
 ness of sisterly love. Notwithstanding the fear- 
 ful and menacing array of savages on every side 
 of her, no apprehension on her own account could 
 prevent the noble-minded maiden from keeping 
 her eyes fastened on the pale and anxious fea- 
 tures of the trembling Alice. Close at their side 
 stood Heyward, with an interest in both, that, at 
 such a moment of intense uncertainty, scarcely 
 knew a preponderance in favor of her whom he 
 most loved. Hawk-eye had placed himself a little 
 in the rear, with a deference to the superior rank 
 of his companions, that no similarity in the state 
 of their present fortunes could induce him to for- 
 get. Uncas was not there. 
 
 When perfect silence was again restored, and 
 after the usual long, impressive pause, one of the 
 two aged chiefs who sat at the side of the patri- 
 arch arose, and demanded aloud, in very intelli- 
 gible English — 
 
 “ Which of my prisoners is La longue Cara- 
 bine ? ” 
 
 Neither Duncan nor the scout answered- The 
 
TRIALS OF MARKSMANSHIP. 
 
 147 
 
 former, however glanced his eyes around the 
 dark and silent assembly, and recoiled a pace, 
 when they fell on the malignant visage of Magua. 
 He saw, at once, that this wily savage had some 
 secret agency in their present arraignment before 
 the nation, and determined to throw every possi- 
 ble impediment in the way of the execution of his 
 sinister plans. He had witnessed one instance 
 of the summary punishments of the Indians, and 
 now dreaded that his companion was to be se- 
 lected for a second. In this dilemma, with little 
 or no time for reflection, he suddenly determined 
 to cloak his invaluable friend, at any or every 
 hazard to himself. Before he had time, however, 
 to speak, the question was repeated in a louder 
 voice, and with a clear utterance. 
 
 “ Give us arms,” the young man haughtily re- 
 plied ; “ and place us in yonder woods. Our 
 deeds shall speak for us ! ” 
 
 “ This is the warrior whose name has filled 
 our ears ! ” returned the chief, regarding Hey- 
 ward with that sort of curious interest which 
 seems inseparable from man, when first beholding 
 one of his fellows to whom merit or accident, vir- 
 tue or crime, has given notoriety. “ What has 
 brought the white man into the camp of the Dela- 
 wares ? ” 
 
 “ My necessities. I come for food, shelter, 
 and friends.” 
 
 “ It cannot be. The woods are full of game. 
 The head of a warrior needs no other shelter than 
 a sky without clouds ; and the Delawares are the 
 enemies, and not the friends, of the Yengeese. 
 Go — the mouth has spoken, while the heart said 
 nothing.” 
 
 Duncan, a little at a loss in what manner to 
 proceed, remained silent ; but the scout, who had 
 listened attentively to all that passed, now ad- 
 vanced steadily to the front. 
 
 “ That I did not answer to the call of La 
 longue Carabine, was not owing either to shame 
 or fear,” he said ; “ for neither one nor the other 
 is the gift of an honest man. But I do not admit 
 the right of the Mingoes to bestow a name on one 
 whose friends have been mindful of his gifts, in 
 this particular ; especially as their title is a lie, 
 
 ‘ Kill-deer ’ being a grooved barrel and no cara- 
 byne. I am a man, however, that got the name 
 of Nathaniel from my kin ; the compliment of 
 Hawk-eye from the Delawares, who live on their 
 own river ; and whom the Iroquois have presumed 
 to style the ‘ Long Rifle,’ without any warranty 
 from him who is most concerned in the matter.” 
 
 The eyes of all present, which had hitherto 
 Been gravely scanning the person of Duncan, 
 were now turned, on the instant, toward the up- 
 
 right iron frame of this new pretender to the dis- 
 tinguished appellation. It was in no degree re- 
 markable that there should be found two who 
 were willing to claim so great an honor, for im- 
 postors, though rare, were not unknown among 
 the natives ; but it was altogether material to the 
 just and severe intentions of the Delawares, that 
 there should be no mistake in the matter. Some 
 of their old men consulted together in private, 
 and then, as it would seem, they determined to 
 interrogate their visitor on the subject. 
 
 “ My brother has said that a snake crept into 
 my camp,” said the chief to Magua ; “ which is 
 he?” 
 
 The Huron pointed to the scout. 
 
 “ Will a wise Delaware believe the barking of 
 a wolf? ” exclaimed Duncan, still more confirmed 
 in the evil intentions of his ancient enemy ; “ a 
 dog never lies, but when was a wolf known to 
 speak the truth ? ” 
 
 The eyes of Magua flashed fire ; but, suddenly 
 recollecting the necessity of maintaining his pres- 
 ence of mind, he turned away in silent disdain, 
 well assured that the sagacity of the Indians 
 would not fail to extract the real merits of the 
 point in controversy. He was not deceived ; for, 
 after another short consultation, the wary Dela- 
 ware turned to him again, and expressed the de- 
 termination of the chiefs, though in the most con- 
 siderate language. 
 
 “ My brother has been called a liar,” he said, 
 “ and his friends are angry. They will show that 
 he has spoken the truth. Give my prisoners 
 guns, and let them prove which is the man.” 
 
 Magua affected to consider the expedient, 
 which he well knew proceeded from distrust of 
 himself, as a compliment, and made a gesture of 
 acquiescence, well content that his veracity should 
 be supported by so skilful a marksman as the 
 scout. The weapons were instantly placed in 
 the hands of the friendly opponents, and they 
 were bid to fire, over the heads of the seated 
 multitude, at an earthen vessel, which lay, by ac- 
 cident, on a stump, some fifty yards from the 
 place where they stood. 
 
 Heyward smiled to himself at the idea of a 
 competition with the scout, though he determined 
 to persevere in the deception, until apprised of 
 the real designs of Magua. Raising his rifle with 
 the utmost care, and renewing his aim three 
 several times, he fired. The bullet cut the wood 
 within a few inches of the vessel; and a general 
 exclamation of satisfaction announced that the 
 shot was considered a proof of great skill in the 
 use of the weapon. Even Hawk-eye nodded his 
 head, as if he would say, it was better than h* 
 
148 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 had expected. But, instead of manifesting an in- 
 tention to contend with the successful marksman, 
 he stood leaning on his rifle for more than a min- 
 ute, like a man who was completely buried in 
 thought. From this reverie, he was, however, 
 awakened by one of the young Indians who had 
 furnished the arms, and who now touched his shoul- 
 der, saying, in exceedingly broken English : 
 
 “ Can the pale-face beat it ? ” 
 
 “Yes, Huron!” exclaimed the scout, raising 
 the short rifle in his right hand, and shaking it at 
 Magua with as much apparent ease as if it were a 
 reed ; “ yes, Huron, I could strike you now, and 
 no power on earth ’ould prevent the deed ! The 
 soaring hawk is not more certain of the dove than 
 I am this moment of you, did I choose to send a 
 bullet to your heart ! Why should I not ? 
 Why ? — because the gifts of my color forbid it, 
 and I might draw down evil on tender and inno- 
 cent heads ! If you know such a being as God, 
 thank him, therefore, in your inward soul — for 
 you have reason ! ” 
 
 The flushed countenance, angry eye, and swell- 
 ing figure of the scout, produced a sensation of 
 secret awe in all that heard him. The Delawares 
 held their breath in expectation ; but Magua him- 
 self, even while he distrusted the forbearance of 
 his enemy, remained immovable and calm, where 
 he stood wedged in by the crowd, as one who 
 grew to the spot. 
 
 “ Beat it,” repeated the young Delaware at 
 the elbow of the scout. 
 
 “ Beat what, fool ? — what ? ” exclaimed 
 Hawk-eye, still flourishing the weapon angrily 
 above his head, though his eye no longer sought 
 the person of Magua. 
 
 “ If the white man is the warrior he pretends,” 
 said the aged chief, “ let him strike nigher to the 
 mark.” 
 
 The scout laughed aloud — a noise that pro- 
 duced the startling effect of an unnatural sound 
 on Heyward — then, dropping the ‘piece heavily 
 Into his extended left hand, it was discharged, ap- 
 parently by the shock, driving the fragments of 
 the vessel into the air, and scattering them on 
 every side. Almost at the same instant, the rat- 
 tling sound of the rifle was heard, as he suffered 
 it to fall contemptuously to the earth. 
 
 The first impression of so strange a scene was 
 engrossing admiration. Then a low but increas- 
 ing murmur ran through the multitude, and finally 
 swelled into sounds that denoted a lively oppo- 
 sition in the sentiments of the spectators. While 
 some openly testified their satisfaction at so un- 
 exampled dexterity, by far the larger portion of 
 the tribe were inclined to believe the success of 
 
 the shot was the result of accident. Heyward 
 was not slow to confirm an opinion that was so 
 favorable to his own pretensions. 
 
 “ It was chance ! ” he exclaimed ; “ none can 
 shoot without an aim ! ” 
 
 “Chance!” echoed the excited woodsman, 
 who was now stubbornly bent on maintaining his 
 identity at every hazard, and on whom the secret 
 hints of Heyward to acquiesce in the deception 
 were entirely lost. “ Does yonder lying Huron, ; 
 too, think it chance? Give him another gun, and' 
 place us face to face, without cover or dodge, and 
 let Providence, and our own eyes, decide the mat- 
 ter atween us ! I do not make the offer to you, 
 major ; for our blood is of a color, and we serve 
 the same master.” 
 
 “ That the Huron is a liar, is very evident,” 
 returned Heyward, coolly; “you have yourself 
 heard him assert you to be La longue Carabine.” 
 
 It were impossible to say what violent assertion 
 the stubborn Hawk-eye would have next made, in 
 his headlong wish to vindicate his identity, had 
 not the aged Delaware once more interposed. 
 
 “ The hawk which comes from the clouds can 
 return when he will,” he said ; “ give them the 
 guns.” 
 
 This time the scout seized the rifle with avid- 
 ity ; nor had Magua, though he watched the move- 
 ment of the marksman with jealous eyes, any fur- 
 ther cause for apprehension. 
 
 “ Now let it be proved, in the face of this tribe 
 of Delawares, which is the better man,” cried the 
 scout, tapping the butt of his piece with that 
 finger which had pulled so many fatal triggers. 
 “ You see the gourd hanging against yonder tree, 
 major; if you are a marksman fit for the borders, 
 let me see you break its shell ! ” 
 
 Duncan noted the object, and prepared him- 
 self to renew the trial. The gourd was one of 
 the usual little vessels used by the Indians, and 
 it was suspended from a dead branch of a small 
 pine, by a thong of deer-skin, at the full distance 
 of a hundred yards. So strangely compounded is 
 the feeling of self-love, that the young soldier, 
 while he knew the utter worthlessness of the suf- 
 frages of his savage umpires, forgot the sudden 
 motives of the contest in a wish to excel. It has 
 been seen, already, that his skill was far from 
 being contemptible, and he now resolved to put 
 forth its nicest qualities. Had his life depended 
 on the issue, the aim of Duncan could not have 
 been more deliberate or guarded. He fired ; and 
 three or four young Indians, who sprang forward 
 at the report, announced with a shout, that the 
 ball was in the tree, a very little on 3ne side of 
 the proper object. The warriors uttered a com- 
 
MAGUA’S ADDRESS. 
 
 149 
 
 aaon ejaculation of pleasure, and then turned 
 iheir eyes inquiringly on the movements of his 
 
 rival. 
 
 “ It may do for the Royal Americans ! ” said 
 Hawk-eye, laughing once more in his own silent, 
 heart-felt manner ; “ but had my gun often turned 
 so much from the true line, many a marten, whose 
 skin is now in a lady’s muff, would still be in the 
 woods ; ay, and many a bloody Mingo, who has 
 departed to his final account, would be acting his 
 deviltries at this very day, atween the provinces. 
 I hope the squaw who owns the gourd has more 
 of them in her wigwam, for this will never hold 
 water again 1 ” 
 
 The scout had shook his priming and cocked 
 his piece while speaking; and, as he ended, he 
 threw back a foot and slowly raised the muzzle 
 from the earth : the motion was steady, uniform, 
 and in one direction. When on a perfect level, 
 it remained for a single moment without tremor 
 or variation, as though both man and rifle were 
 carved in stone. During that stationary instant 
 it poured forth its contents in a bright, glancing 
 sheet of flame. Again the young Indians bounded 
 forward ; but their hurried search and disap- 
 pointed looks announced that no traces of the 
 bullet were to be seen. 
 
 “ Go,” said the old chief to the scout, in a 
 tone of strong disgust ; “ thou art a wolf in the 
 skin of a dog. I will talk to the ‘ Long Rifle ’ of 
 the Yengeese.” 
 
 “ Ah ! had I that piece which furnished the 
 name you use, I would obligate myself to cut the 
 thong and drop the gourd without breaking it ! ” 
 returned Hawk-eye, perfectly undisturbed by the 
 other’s manner. “Fools, if you would find the 
 bullet of a sharpshooter in these woods, you must 
 look in the object and not around it ! ” 
 
 The Indian youths instantly comprehended 
 his meaning — for this time he spoke in the Dela- 
 ware tongue — and, tearing the gourd from the 
 tree, they held it on high with an exulting shout, 
 displaying a hole in its bottom, which had been 
 cut by the bullet after passing through the usual 
 orifice in the centre of its upper side. At this 
 unexpected exhibition, a loud and vehement ex- 
 pression of pleasure burst from the mouth of 
 every warrior present. It decided the question, 
 and effectually established Hawk-eye in the pos- 
 session of his dangerous reputation. Those curi- 
 ous and admiring eyes, which had been turned 
 again on Heyward, were finally directed to the 
 weather-beaten form of the scout, who immedi- 
 ately became the principal object of attention to 
 the simple and unsophisticated beings by whom 
 he was surrounded. When the sudden and noisy 
 
 commotion had a little subsided, the aged chief 
 resumed his examination. 
 
 “ Why did you wish to stop my ears ? ” he 
 said, addressing Duncan ; “ are the Delawares 
 fools, that they could not know the young pan- 
 ther from the cat ! ” 
 
 “ They will yet find the Huron a singing- 
 bird,” said Duncan, endeavoring to adopt the 
 figurative language of the natives. 
 
 “ It is good. We will know who can shut tho 
 ears of men. — Brother,” added the chief, turning 
 his eyes on Magua, “ the Delawares listen.” 
 
 Thus singled, and directly called on to declare 
 his object, the Huron arose ; and, advancing with 
 great deliberation and dignity into the very centre 
 of the circle, where he stood confronted to the 
 prisoners, he placed himself in an attitude to 
 speak. Before opening his mouth, however, he 
 bent his eyes slowly along the whole living boun- 
 dary of earnest faces, as if to temper his expres- 
 sions to the capacities of his audience. On 
 Hawk-eye he cast a glance of respectful enmity ; 
 on Duncan, a look of inextinguishable hatred ; 
 the shrinking figure of Alice he scarcely deigned 
 to notice ; but when his glance met the firm, 
 commanding, and yet lovely form of Cora, his 
 eye lingered a moment with an expression that it 
 might have been difficult to define. Then, filled 
 with his own dark intentions, he spoke in the lan- 
 guage of the Canadas, a tongue that he well knew 
 was comprehended by most of his auditors. 
 
 “ The Spirit that made men coloi’ed them dif- 
 ferently,” commenced the subtle Huron. “ Some 
 are blacker than the sluggish bear. These he 
 said should be slaves ; and he ordered them to 
 work forever, like the beaver. You may hear 
 them groan, when tbe south wind blows, louder 
 than the lowing buffaloes along the shores of the 
 great salt lake, where the big canoes come and 
 go with them in droves. Some he made with 
 faces paler than the ermine of the forests : and 
 these he ordered to be traders ; dogs to their 
 women, and wolves to their slaves. He gave this 
 people the nature of the pigeon ; wings that 
 never tire : young, more plentiful than the leaves 
 on the trees, and appetites to devour the earth. 
 He gave them tongues like the false call of the 
 wild-cat ; hearts like rabbits ; the cunning of the 
 hog (but none of the fox), and arms longer than 
 the legs of the moose. With his tongue he stops 
 the ears of the Indians ; his heart teaches him to 
 pay warriors to fight his battles ; his cunning tells 
 him how to get together the goods of the earth ; 
 and his arms enclose the land from the shores of 
 the salt-water to the islands of the great lake. 
 His gluttony makes him sick. God gave him 
 
150 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS 
 
 enough, and yet he wants all. Such are the pale- 
 faces. 
 
 “Some the Great Spirit made with skins 
 brighter and redder than yonder sun,” continued 
 Magua, pointing impressively upward to the lurid 
 luminary, which was struggling through the misty 
 atmosphere of the horizon ; “ and these did he 
 fashion to his own mind. He gave them this 
 island as he had made it, covered with trees and 
 filled with game. The wind made their clearings ; 
 the sun and rains ripened their fruits ; and the 
 snows came to tell them to be thankful. What 
 need had they of roads to journey by ? They 
 6aw through the hills ! When the beavers 
 worked, they lay in the shade and looked on. 
 The winds cooled them in summer ; in winter, 
 skins kept them warm. If they fought among 
 themselves, it was to prove that they were men. 
 They were brave ; they were just ; they were 
 happy.” 
 
 Here the speaker paused and again looked 
 around him to discover if his legend had touched 
 the sympathies of his listeners. He met every- 
 where with eyes riveted on his own, heads erect, 
 and nostrils expanded, as if each individual pres- 
 ent felt himself able and willing, singly, to re- 
 dress the wrongs of his race. 
 
 “ If the Great Spirit gave different tongues to 
 his red children,” he continued, in a low, still 
 melancholy voice, “ it was that all animals might 
 understand them. Some he placed among the 
 snows with their cousin, the bear. Some he 
 placed near the setting sun, on the road to the 
 happy hunting-grounds. Some on the lands 
 around the great fresh waters ; but to his great- 
 est and most beloved, he gave the sands of the 
 salt lake. Do my brothers know the name of 
 this favored people ? ” 
 
 “ It was the Lenape ! ” exclaimed twenty 
 eager voices in a breath. 
 
 “ It was the Lenni Lenape,” returned Magua, 
 affecting to bend his head in reverence to their 
 former greatness. “ It was the tribes of the 
 Lenape ! The sun rose from water that was salt, 
 and set in water that was sweet, and never hid 
 himself from their eyes. But why should I, a 
 Huron of the woods, tell a wise people their own 
 traditions ? Why remind them of their injuries ; 
 their ancient greatness ; their deeds ; their glory ; 
 their happiness ; their losses ; their defeats ; their 
 misery ? Is there not one among them who has 
 seen it all, and who knows it to be true ? I have 
 done. My tongue is still, for my heart is of lead. 
 I listen.” 
 
 As the voice of the speaker suddenly ceased, 
 every face and all eyes turned, by a common 
 
 movement, toward the venerable Tamenund 
 From the moment that he took his seat until the 
 present instant, the lips of the patriarch had not 
 severed, and scarcely a sign of life had escaped 
 him. He sat bent in feebleness, and apparently 
 unconscious of the presence he was in, during 
 the whole of that opening scene in which the 
 skill of the scout had been so clearly established. 
 At the nicely-graduated sounds of Magua’s voice, 
 however, he betrayed some evidence of conscious- 
 ness, and once or twice he even raised his head 
 as if to listen. But when the crafty Huron spoke 
 of his nation by name, the eyelids of the old man 
 raised themselves, and he looked out upon the 
 multitude with that sort of dull, unmeaning ex- 
 pression which might be supposed to belong to 
 the countenance of a spectre. Then he made an 
 effort to rise, and, being upheld by his supporters, 
 he gained his feet in a posture commanding by 
 its dignity, while he tottered with weakness. 
 
 “Who calls upon the children of the Lena- 
 pe ? ” he said, in a deep, guttural voice that wa s 
 rendered awfully audible by the breathless si- 
 lence of the multitude ; “ who speaks of things 
 gone? Does not the egg become a worm — the 
 worm a fly, and perish ? Why tell the Dela- 
 wares of good that is past ? Better thank the 
 Manitto for that which remains.” 
 
 “It is a Wyandot,” said Magua, stepping 
 nigher to the rude platform on which the other 
 stood ; “ a friend of Tamenund.” 
 
 “ A friend ! ” repeated the sage, on whose 
 brow a dark frown settled, imparting a portion 
 of that severity which had rendered his eye so 
 terrible in middle age. “Are the Mingoes rulers 
 of the earth ? What brings a Huron here ? ” 
 
 “ Justice. His prisoners are with his brothers, 
 and he comes for his own.” 
 
 Tamenund turned his head toward one of his 
 supporters, and listened to the short explanation 
 the man gave. Then facing the applicant, he re- 
 garded him a moment with deep attention ; after 
 which he said, in a low and reluctant voice : 
 
 “ Justice is the law of the great Manitto. My 
 children, give the stranger food. — Then, Huron» 
 take thine own and depart.” 
 
 On the delivery of this solemn judgment, the 
 patriarch seated himself, and closed his eyes 
 again, as if better pleased with the images of his 
 own ripened experience than with the visible ob- 
 jects of the world. Against such a decree there 
 was no Delaware sufficiently hardy to murmur, 
 much less oppose himself. The words were barely 
 uttered when four or five of the younger warriors, 
 stepping behind Heyward and the scout, passed 
 thongs so dexterously and rapidly around their 
 
CORA’S APPEAL TO TAMENUND. 
 
 151 
 
 §rmg, as to hold them both in instant bondage. 
 The former was too much engrossed with his 
 precious and nearly insensible burden, to be aware 
 of their intentions before they were executed ; and 
 the latter, who considered even the hostile tribes 
 of the Delawares a superior race of beings, sub- 
 mitted without resistance. Perhaps, however, the 
 manner of the scout would not have been so pas- 
 sive, had he fully comprehended the language in 
 which the preceding dialogue had been conducted. 
 
 Magua cast a look of triumph around the 
 whole assembly before he proceeded to the ex- 
 ecution of his purpose. Perceiving that the men 
 were unable to offer any resistance, he turned his 
 looks on her he valued most. Cora met his gaze 
 with an eye so calm and firm, that his resolution 
 wavered. Then, recollecting his former artifice, he 
 raised Alice from the arms of the warrior against 
 whom she leaned, and, beckoning Heyward to 
 follow, he motioned for the encircling crowd to 
 open. But Cora, instead of obeying the impulse 
 he had expected, rushed to the feet of the patri- 
 arch, and, raising her voice, exclaimed aloud : 
 
 “ Just and venerable Delaware, on thy wis- 
 dom and power we lean for mercy ! Be deaf to 
 yonder artful and remorseless monster, who poi- 
 sons thy ears with falsehoods to feed his thirst for 
 blood. Thou that hast lived long, and that hast 
 seen the evil of the world, should know how to 
 temper its calamities to the miserable.” 
 
 The eyes of the old man opened heavily, and 
 he once more looked upward at the multitude. 
 As the piercing tones of the supplicant swelled on 
 his ears, they moved slowly in the direction of her 
 person, and finally settled there in a steady gaze. 
 Cora had cast herself to her knees ; and, with 
 hands clinched in each other and pressed upon 
 her bosom, she remained like a beauteous and 
 breathing model of her sex, looking up in his 
 faded but majestic countenance with a species of 
 holy reverence. Gradually the expression of 
 Tamenund’s features changed, and, losing their 
 vacancy in admiration, they lighted with a portion 
 of that intelligence which a century before had 
 been wont to communicate his youthful fire to the 
 extensive bands of the Delawares. Rising with- 
 out assistance, and seemingly without an effort, 
 he demanded, in a voice that startled its auditors 
 by its firmness — 
 
 “ What art thou ? ” 
 
 “ A woman. One of a hated race, if thou wilt 
 — a Yengee. But one who has never harmed thee, 
 and who cannot harm thy people, if she would ; 
 who asks for succor.” 
 
 “ Tell me, my children,” continued the patri- 
 arch, hoarsely, motioning to those around him^ 
 
 though his eyes still dwelt upon the kneeling form 
 of Cora, “ where have the Delawares camped ? ” 
 
 “In the mountains of the Iroquois, beyond 
 the clear springs of the Horican.” 
 
 “ Many parching summers are come and gone,* 
 continued the sage, “since I drank of the waters 
 of my own river. The children of Minquon * are 
 the justest white men ; but they were thirsty, and 
 they took it to themselves. Do they follow us so 
 far?” 
 
 “We follow none; we covet nothing,” an- 
 swered Cora. “ Captives against our wills, have 
 we been brought among you ; and we ask. but 
 permission to depart to our own in peace. Art 
 thou not Tamenund — the father — the judge — I 
 had almost said, the prophet — of this people ? ” 
 
 “ I am Tamenund of many days.” 
 
 “ Tis now some seven years that one of thy 
 people was at the mercy of a white chief on the 
 borders of this province. He claimed to be of 
 the blood of the good and just Tamenund. ‘ Go,’ 
 said the white man, ‘for thy parent’s sake thou 
 art free.’ Dost thou remember the name of that 
 English warrior? ” 
 
 “ I remember that, when a laughing boy,” re- 
 turned the patriarch, with the peculiar recollection 
 of vast age, “ I stood upon the sands of the sea- 
 shore, and saw a big canoe with wings whiter 
 than the swan’s, and wider than many eagles, 
 come from the rising sun — ” 
 
 “ Nay, nay ; I speak not of a time so very dis- 
 tant, but of favor shown to thy kindred by one of 
 mine, within the memory of thy youngest warrior.” 
 
 “Was it when the Yengeese and the Dutch- 
 manne fought for the hunting-grounds of the 
 Delawares ? Then Tamenund was a chief, and first 
 laid aside the bow for the lightning of the pale- 
 faces — ” 
 
 “ Nor yet then,” interrupted Cora, “ by many 
 ' ages ; I speak of a thing of yesterday. Surely, sure- 
 ly, you forget it not.” 
 
 “ It was but yesterday,” rejoined the aged man 
 with touching pathos, “that the children of the 
 Lenape were masters of the world. The fishes of 
 the salt lake, the birds, the beasts, and the Meng- 
 we of the woods, owned them for sagamores.” 
 
 Cora bowed her head in disappointment, and, 
 for a bitter moment, struggled with her chagrin. 
 
 * William Penn was termed Minquon by the Delawares, 
 and, as he never used violence or injustice in his dealings 
 with them, his reputation for probity passed into a proverb. 
 The American is justly proud of the origin of his nation, 
 which is perhaps unequalled in the history of the world ; 
 but the Pennsylvanian and Jerseyman have more reason to 
 value themselves in their ancestors than the natives of any 
 other State, since no wrong was done the original owners 
 of the soil; 
 
152 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 Then elevating her rich features and beaming eyes 
 she continued, in tones scarcely less penetrating 
 than the unearthly voice of the patriarch himself : 
 
 “ Tell me, is Tamenund a father ? ” 
 
 The old man looked down upon her from his 
 elevated stand, with a benignant smile on his 
 wasted countenance, and then, casting his eyes 
 slowly over the whole assemblage, he answered : 
 
 “ Of a nation.” 
 
 “ For myseif I ask nothing. Like thee and 
 thine, venerable chief,” she continued, pressing 
 her hands convulsively on her heart, and suffering 
 her head to droop until her burning cheeks were 
 nearly concealed in the maze of dark glossy tresses 
 that fell in disorder upon her shoulders, “the 
 curse of my ancestors has fallen heavily on their 
 child. But yonder is one who has never known 
 the weight of Heaven’s displeasure until now. 
 She is the daughter of an old and failing man, 
 whose days are near their close. She has many, 
 very many to love her, and delight in her ; and she 
 is too good, much too precious, to become the vic- 
 tim of that villain.” 
 
 “ I know that the pale-faces are a proud and 
 hungry race. I know that they claim not only to 
 have the earth, but that the meanest of their color 
 is better than the sachems of the red man. The 
 dogs and crows of their tribes,” continued the 
 earnest old chieftain, without heeding the wounded 
 spirit of his listener, whose head was nearly 
 crushed to the earth in shame, as he proceeded, 
 “ would bark and caw before they would take a 
 woman to their wigwams whose blood was not of 
 the color of snow. But let them not boast before 
 the face of the Manitto too loud. They entered 
 the land at the rising, and may yet go off at the 
 setting sun. I have often seen the locusts strip 
 the leaves from the trees, but the season of blos- 
 soms has always come again.” 
 
 “ It is so,” said Cora, drawing a long breath, 
 as if reviving from a trance, raising her face, and 
 shaking back her shining veil, with a kindling eye, 
 that contradicted the death-like paleness of her 
 countenance ; “ but why— -it is not permitted us to 
 inquire. There is yet one of thine own people 
 who has not been brought before thee ; before 
 thou lettest the Huron depart in triumph, hear 
 him speak.” 
 
 Observing Tamenund to look about him 
 doubtingly, one of his companions said : 
 
 “ It is a snake — a red-skin in the pay of the 
 Yengeese. We keep him for the torture.” 
 
 “ Let him come,” returned the sage. 
 
 Then Tamenund once more sank into his seat, 
 and a silence so deep prevailed, while the young 
 men prepared to obey his simple mandate, that 
 
 the leaves, which fluttered in the draught of the 
 light morning air, were distinctly heard rustling 
 in the surrounding forest. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 “ If you deny me, fie upon your law ! 
 
 There Is no force in the decrees of Venice: 
 
 I stand for judgment; answer, shall I have It?” 
 
 Shakespeabb. 
 
 The silence continued unbroken by human 
 sounds for many anxious minutes. Then the wav- 
 ing multitude opened and shut again, and Uncas 
 stood in the living circle. All those eyes, which 
 had been curiously studying the lineaments of the 
 sage, as the source of their own intelligence, 
 turned on the instant, and were now bent in secret 
 admiration on the erect, agile, and faultless person 
 of the captive. But neither the presence in 
 which he found himself, nor the exclusive atten- 
 tion that he attracted, in any manner disturbed 
 the self-possession of the young Mohican. He 
 cast a deliberate and observing look on every side 
 of him, meeting the settled expression of hostility 
 that lowered in the visages of the chiefs, with the 
 same calmness as the curious gaze of the attentive 
 children. But when, last in his haughty scrutiny, 
 the person of Tamenund came under his glance, 
 his eye became fixed, as though all other objects 
 were already forgotten. Then, advancing with a 
 slow and noiseless step up the area, he placed 
 himself immediately before the footstool of the 
 sage. Here he stood unnoted, though keenly ob- 
 servant himself, until one of the chiefs apprised 
 the latter of his presence. 
 
 “ With what tongue does the prisoner speak 
 to the Manitto ? ” demanded the patriarch, with- 
 out unclosing his eyes. 
 
 “ Like his fathers,” Uncas replied ; “ with the 
 tongue of a Delaware.” 
 
 At this sudden and unexpected annunciation, 
 a low, fierce yell ran through the multitude, that 
 might not inaptly be compared to the growl of the 
 lion, as his choler is first awakened — a fearful 
 omen of the weight of his future anger. The ef- 
 fect was equally strong on the sage, though differ- 
 ently exhibited. He passed a hand before Ida 
 eyes, as if to exclude the least evidence of so 
 shameful a spectacle, while he repeated, in his 
 low, guttural tones, the words he had just heard. 
 
 “ A Delaware ! I have lived to see the tribes 
 of the Lenape driven from their council-fires, and 
 scattered, like broken herds of deer, among the 
 hills of the Iroquois ! I have seen the hatchets 
 
PREPARATION FOR UNCAS’S DEATH. 
 
 153 
 
 of a strange people sweep woods from the valleys, 
 that the winds of heaven had spared 1 The 
 beasts that run on the mountains, and the birds 
 that fly above the trees, have I seen living in the 
 wigwams of men ; but never before have I found 
 a Delaware so base as to creep, like a poisonous 
 serpent, into the camps of his nation.” 
 
 “ The singing-birds have opened their bills,” 
 returned Uncas, in the softest notes of his own 
 musical voice ; “ and Tamenund has heard their 
 song.” 
 
 The sage started, and bent his head aside, 
 as if to catch the fleeting sounds of some passing 
 melody. 
 
 “ Does Tamenund dream ? ” he exclaimed. 
 
 “ What voice i3 at his ear ? Have the winters 
 gone backward ? Will summer come again to 
 the children of the Lenape ? ” 
 
 A solemn and respectful silence succeeded 
 this incoherent burst from the lips of the Dela- 
 ware prophet. His people readily construed his 
 unintelligible language into one of those mys- 
 terious conferences he was believed to hold so 
 frequently with a superior intelligence, and they 
 awaited the issue of the revelation in awe. Af- 
 ter a patient pause, however, one of the aged 
 men, perceiving that the sage had lost the recol- 
 lection of the subject before them, ventured to re- 
 mind him again of the presence of the prisoner. 
 
 “ The false Delaware trembles lest he should 
 hear the words of Tamenund,” he said. “ ’Tis a 
 hound that howls, when the Yengeese show him 
 a trail.” 
 
 “And ye,” returned Uncas, looking sternly 
 around him, “ are dogs that whine, when the 
 Frenchman cast ye the offals of his deer ! ” 
 
 Twenty knives gleamed in the air, and as 
 many warriors sprang to their feet, at this biting, 
 and perhaps merited retort ; but a motion from 
 one of the chiefs suppressed the outbreaking of 
 their tempers, and restored the appearance of 
 quiet. The task might probably have been more 
 difficult, had not a movement made by Tamenund 
 indicated that he was again about to speak. 
 
 “ Delaware ! ” resumed the sage, “ little art 
 thou worthy of thy name. My people have not 
 seen a bright sun in many winters ; and the war- 
 rior who deserts his tribe when hid in clouds is 
 doubly a traitor. The law of the Manitto is just. 
 It is so ; while the rivers run and the mountains 
 stand, while the blossoms come and go on the 
 trees, it must be so. He is thine, my children ; 
 deal justly by him.” 
 
 Not a limb was moved, nor was a breath 
 drawn louder and longer than common, until the 
 closing syllable of this final decree had passed 
 
 the lips of Tamenund. Then a cry of vengeance 
 burst at once, as it might be, from the united 
 lips of the nation ; a frightful augury of their 
 ruthless intentions. In the midst of these pro- 
 longed and savage yells, a chief proclaimed, in a 
 high voice, that the captive was condemned to 
 endure the dreadful trial of torture by fire. The 
 circle broke its order, and screams of delight 
 mingled with the bustle and tumult of prepara- 
 tion. Heyward struggled madly with his cap- 
 tors; the anxious eyes of Hawk-eye began to 
 look around him, with an expression of peculiar 
 earnestness ; and Cora again threw herself at the 
 feet of the patriarch, once more a suppliant for 
 mercy. 
 
 Throughout the whole of these trying mo- 
 ments, Uncas had alone preserved his serenity. 
 He looked on the preparations with a steady eye, 
 and when the tormentors came to seize him, he 
 met them with a firm and upright attitude. One 
 among them, if possible more fierce and savage 
 than his fellows, seized the hunting-shirt of the 
 young warrior, and at a single effort tore it from 
 his body. Then, with a yell of frantic pleasure, 
 he leaped toward his unresisting victim, and pre- 
 pared to lead him to the stake. But, at that 
 moment, when he appeared most a stranger to 
 the feelings of humanity, the purpose of the sav- 
 age was arrested as suddenly as if a supernatural 
 agency had interposed in the behalf of Uncas. 
 The eyeballs of the Delaware seemed to start 
 from their sockets; his mouth opened, and his 
 whole form became frozen in an attitude of 
 amazement. Raising his hand with a slow and 
 regulated motion, he pointed with a finger to the 
 bosom of the captive. His companions crowded 
 about him in wonder, and every eye was, like his 
 own, fastened intently on the figure of a small 
 tortoise, beautifully tattooed on the breast of the 
 prisoner, in a bright blue tint. 
 
 For a single instant Uncas enjoyed his tri- 
 umph, smiling calmly on the scene. Then, mo- 
 tioning the crowd away with a high and haughty 
 sweep of his arm, he advanced in front of the 
 nation with the air of a king, and spoke in a voice 
 louder than the murmur of admiration that ran 
 through the multitude. 
 
 “ Men of the Lenni Lenape ! ” he said, “ my 
 race upholds the earth ! Your feeble tribe stands 
 on my shell ! What fire that a Delaware can 
 light would burn the child of my fathers,” he 
 added, pointing proudly to the simple blazonry 
 on his skin ; “ the blood that came from such a 
 stock would smother your flames ! My race ia 
 the grandfather of nations ! ” 
 
 “Who art thou?” demanded Tamenund, 
 
154 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 rising at the startling tones he heard, more than 
 at any meaning conveyed by the language of the 
 prisoner. 
 
 “ Uncas, the son of Chingachgook,” answered, 
 the captive modestly, turning from the nation, 
 and bending his head in reverence to the other’s 
 character and years ; “ a son of the great Una- 
 rms.” * 
 
 “ The hour of Tamenund is nigh ! ” exclaimed 
 the sage ; “ the day is come, at last, to the night ! 
 I thank the Manitto, that one is here to fill my 
 place at the council-fire. Uncas, the child of 
 Uncas, is found ! Let the eyes of a dying eagle 
 gaze on the rising sun ! ” 
 
 The youth stepped lightly, but proudly, on 
 the platform, where he became visible to the 
 whole agitated and wondering multitude. Tame- 
 nund held him long at the length of his arm, and 
 read every turn in the fine lineaments of his 
 countenance, with the untiring gaze of one who 
 recalled days of happiness. 
 
 “Is Tamenund a boy?” at length the bewil- 
 dered prophet exclaimed. “ Have I dreamt of so 
 many snows — that my people were scattered like 
 floating sands — of Yengeese, more plenty than 
 the leaves on the trees ! The arrow of Tamenund 
 would not frighten the fawn ; his arm is withered 
 like the branch of a dead oak ; the snail would 
 be swifter in the race ; yet is Uncas before him 
 as they went to battle against the pale-faces! 
 Uncas, the panther of his tribe, the eldest son of 
 the Lenape, the wisest sagamore of the Mohi- 
 cans! Tell me, ye Delawares, has Tamenund 
 been a sleeper for a hundred winters ? ” 
 
 The calm and deep silence which succeeded 
 these words., sufficiently announced the awful 
 reverence with which his people received the 
 communication of the patriarch. None dared to 
 answer, though all listened in breathless expec- 
 tation of what might follow. Uncas, however, 
 looking in his face with the fondness and venera- 
 tion of a favored child, presumed on his own 
 high and acknowledged rank, to reply : 
 
 “ Four warriors of his race have lived, and 
 died,” he said, “ since the friend of Tamenund 
 led his people in battle. The blood of the Turtle 
 has been in many chiefs, but all have gone back 
 into the earth whence they came, except Chin- 
 gachgook and his son.” 
 
 “ It is true — it is true,” returned the sage — a 
 flash of recollection destroying all his pleasing 
 fancies, and restoring him at once to a conscious- 
 ness of the true history of his nation. “Our 
 wise men have often said that two warriors of 
 
 the unchanged race were in the hills of the Yen 
 geese ; why have their seats at the council-fire* 
 of the Delawares been so long empty ? ” 
 
 At these words the young man raised his head, 
 which he had still kept bowed a little, in rever- 
 ence ; and, lifting his voice so as to be heard by 
 the multitude, as if to explain at once and forever 
 the policy of his family, he said aloud : 
 
 “ Once we slept where we could hear the salt 
 lake speak in its anger. Then we were rulers and 
 sagamores over the land. But when a pale-face 
 was seen on every brook, we followed the deer 
 back to the river of our nation. The Delawares 
 were gone. Few warriors of them all stayed to 
 drink of the stream they loved. Then said my 
 fathers : ‘ Here will we hunt. The waters of the 
 river go into the salt lake. If we go toward the 
 setting sun, we shall find streams that run into 
 the great lakes of sweet water ; there would a 
 Mohican die, like fishes of the sea, in the clear 
 springs. When the Manitto is ready, and shall 
 say “ Come,” we will follow the river to the sea, 
 and take our own again.’ Such, Delawares, is 
 the belief of the children of the Turtle. Our 
 eyes are on the rising, and not toward the setting 
 sun. We know whence he comes, but we know 
 not whither he goes. It is enough.” 
 
 The men of the Lenape listened to his words 
 with all the respect that superstition could lend, 
 finding a secret charm even in the figurative lan- 
 guage with which the young sagamore imparted 
 his ideas. Uncas himself watched the effect of 
 his brief explanation with intelligent eyes, and 
 gradually dropped the air of authority he had as- 
 sumed, as he perceived that his auditors were 
 content. Then, permitting his looks to wander 
 over the silent throng that crowded around the 
 elevated seat of Tamenund, he first perceived 
 Hawk-eye in his bonds. Stepping eagerly from 
 his stand, he made way for himself to the side of 
 his friend ; and, cutting his thongs with a quick 
 and angry stroke of his own knife, he motioned to 
 the crowd to divide. The Indians silently obeyed, 
 and once more they stood ranged in their circle, 
 as before his appearance among them. Uncas 
 took the scout by the hand, and led him to the 
 feet of the patriarch. 
 
 “ Father,” he said, “ look at this pale-face ; a 
 just man, and the friend of the Delawares.” 
 
 “ Is he a son of Minquon ? ” 
 
 “ Not so ; a warrior known to the Yengeese* 
 and feared by the Maquas.” 
 
 “ What name has he gained by his deeds ? ” 
 “We call him Hawk-eye,” Uncas replied, 
 using the Delaware phrase ; “ for his sight never 
 fails. The Mingoes know him better by the death 
 
 * Turtle. 
 
THE INDIAN CHIEF’S DECISION. 
 
 155 
 
 he gives their warriors : with them he is ‘ The 
 long Rifle.’ ” 
 
 “La longue Carabine!” exclaimed Tame- 
 nund, opening his eyes, and regarding the scout 
 sternly. “ My son has not done well to call him 
 friend.” 
 
 “ I call him so who proves himself such,” re- 
 turned the young chief, with great calmness, but 
 with a steady mien. “If Uncas is welcome 
 among the Delawares, then is Hawk-eye with his 
 friends.” 
 
 “ The pale-face has slain my young men ; his 
 name is great for the blows he has struck the 
 Lenape.” 
 
 “ If a Mingo has whispered that much in the 
 ear of the Delaware, he has only shown that he is 
 a singing-bird,” said the scout, who now believed 
 that it was time to vindicate himself from such 
 offensive charges, and who spoke in the tongue 
 of the man he addressed, modifying his Indian 
 figures, however, with his own peculiar notions. 
 “ That I have slain the Maquas, I am not the 
 man to deny, even at their own council-fires ; but 
 that, knowingly, my hand has ever harmed a 
 Delaware, is opposed to the reason of my gifts, 
 which is friendly to them, and all that belongs to 
 their nation.” 
 
 A low exclamation of applause passed among 
 the warriors, who exchanged looks with each 
 other like men that first began to perceive their 
 error. 
 
 “ Where i3 the Huron ? ” demanded Tamenund. 
 “ Has he stopped my ears ? ” 
 
 Magua, whose feelings during that scene in 
 which Uncas had triumphed may be much better 
 imagined that described, answered to the call by 
 stepping boldly in front of the patriarch. 
 
 “ The just Tamenund,” he said, “ will not 
 keep what a Huron has lent.” 
 
 “ Tell me, son of my brother,” returned the 
 sage, avoiding the dark countenance of Le Subtil, 
 and turning gladly to the more ingenuous features 
 of Uncas, “ has the stranger a conqueror’s right 
 over you ? ” 
 
 “He has none. The panther may get into 
 snares set by the women ; but he is strong, and 
 knows how to leap through them.” 
 
 “ La longue Carabine ? ” 
 
 “ Laughs at the Mingoes. — Go, Huron, ask 
 your squaws the color of a bear.” 
 
 “The stranger and the white maiden that 
 came into my camp together ? ” 
 
 « Should journey on an open path.” 
 
 “ And the woman that Huron left with my war- 
 riors?” 
 
 Uncas made no reply. 
 
 “ And the woman that the Mingo has brought 
 into my camp? ” repeated Tamenund, gravely. 
 
 “ She is mine,” cried Magua, shaking his hand 
 in triumph at Uncas. — “ Mohican, you know that 
 she is mine.” 
 
 “ My son is silent,” said Tamenund, endeavor- 
 ing to read the expression of the face that the 
 youth turned from him in sorrow. 
 
 “ It is so,” was the low answer. 
 
 A short and impressive pause succeeded, dur- 
 ing which it was very apparent with what reluc- 
 tance the multitude admitted the justice of the 
 Mingo’s claim. At length the sage, on whom 
 alone the decision depended, said, in a firm 
 voice : 
 
 “ Huron, depart.” 
 
 “ As he came, just Tamenund,” demanded the 
 wily Magua, “ or with hands filled with the faith 
 of the Delawares ? The wigwam of Le Renard 
 Subtil is empty. Make him strong with his 
 own.” 
 
 The aged man mused with himself for a time ; 
 and then bending his head toward one of his ven- 
 erable companions, he asked : 
 
 “ Are my ears open ? ” 
 
 “ It is true.” 
 
 “ Is this Mingo a chief? ” 
 
 “ The first in his nation.” 
 
 “ Girl, what wouldst thou ? A great warrior 
 takes thee to wife. Go ; thy race will not end.” 
 
 “Better, a thousand times, it should,” ex- 
 claimed the horror-struck Cora, “ than meet with 
 such a degradation ! ” 
 
 “ Huron, her mind is in the tents of her fa- 
 thers. An unwilling maiden makes an unhappy 
 wigwam.” 
 
 “ She speaks with the tongue of her people,” 
 returned Magua, regarding his victim with a look 
 of bitter irony. “ She is of a race of traders, 
 and will bargain for a bright look. Let Tame- 
 nund speak the words.” 
 
 “ Take you the wampum, and our love.” 
 
 “Nothing hence but what Magua brought 
 hither.” 
 
 “Then depart with thine own. The Great 
 Manitto forbids that a Delaware should be un- 
 just.” 
 
 Magua advanced, and seized his captive 
 strongly by the arm ; the Delawares fell back in 
 silence ; and Cora, as if conscious that remon- 
 strance would be useless, prepared to submit to 
 her fate without resistance. 
 
 « Hold, hold ! ” cried Duncan, springing for- 
 ward ; “ Huron, have mercy ! her ransom shall 
 make thee richer than any of thy people were 
 ever yet known to be.” 
 
i56 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 “ Magua is a red-skin ; he wants not the beads 
 of the pale-faces.” 
 
 “ Gold, silver, powder, lead — all that a war- 
 rior needs shall be in thy wigwam ; all that be- 
 comes the greatest chief.” 
 
 “ Le Subtil is very strong,” cried Magua. vio- 
 lently shaking the hand which grasped the unre- 
 sisting arm of Cora ; “ he has his revenge ! ” 
 
 “ Mighty ruler of Providence ! ” exclaimed 
 Heyward, clasping his hands together in agony, 
 “ can this be suffered ? — To you, just Tamenund, 
 I appeal for mercy.” 
 
 “ The words of the Delaware are said,” re- 
 turned the sage, closing his eyes, and dropping 
 back into his seat, alike wearied with his men- 
 tal and his bodily exertion. “Men speak not 
 twice.” 
 
 “ That a chief should not misspend his time 
 in unsaying what has once been spoken, is wise 
 and reasonable,” said Hawk-eye, motioning to 
 Duncan to be silent ; “ but it is also prudent in 
 every warrior to consider well before he strikes 
 his tomahawk into the head of his prisoner. — Hu- 
 ron, I love you not; nor can I say that any Min- 
 go has ever received much favor at my hands. 
 It is fair to conclude, that, if this war does not 
 soon end, many more of your warriors will meet 
 me in the woods. Put it to your judgment, then, 
 whether you would prefer taking such a prisoner 
 as that into your encampment, or one like myself, 
 who am a man that it would greatly rejoice your 
 nation to see with naked hands.” 
 
 “ Will ‘ The long Rifle ’ give his life for the 
 woman ? ” demanded Magua, hesitatingly ; for he 
 had already made a motion toward quitting the 
 place with his victim. 
 
 “ No, no ; I said not so much as that,” re- 
 turned Hawk-eye, drawing back with suitable dis- 
 cretion, when he noted the eagerness with which 
 Magua listened to his proposal. “ It would be an 
 unequal exchange, to give a warrior, in the prime 
 of his age and usefulness, for the best woman on 
 the frontiers. I might consent to go into win- 
 ter quarters, now — at least six weeks afore the 
 leaves will turn — on condition you will release the 
 maiden.” 
 
 Magua shook his head, and made an impatient 
 sign for the crowd to open. 
 
 “ Well, then,” added the scout, with the mus- 
 ing air of a man who had not half made up his 
 mind, “ I will throw ‘ Kill-deer ’ into the bargain. 
 Take the word of an experienced hunter, the piece 
 has not its equal atween the provinces.” 
 
 Magua still disdained to reply, continuing his 
 efforts to disperse the crowd. 
 
 “Perhaps,” added the scout, losing his dis- 
 
 sembled coolness, exactly in proportion as tha 
 other manifested an indifference to the exchange 
 “ if I should condition to teach your young men 
 the real virtue of the we’pon, it would smooth the 
 little differences in our judgments.” 
 
 Le Renard fiercely ordered the Delawares, who 
 still lingered in an impenetrable belt around him,, 
 in hopes he would listen to the amicable propo- 
 sal, to open his path, threatening, by the glance 
 of his eye, another appeal to the infallible justice 
 of their “ prophet.” 
 
 “ What is ordered must sooner or later arrive,’ 
 continued Hawk-eye, turning with a sad and hum- 
 bled look to Uncas. “ The varlet knows his ad- 
 vantage, and will keep it ! God bless you, boy ; 
 you have found friends among your natural kin, 
 and I hope they will prove as true as some you 
 have met who had no Indian cross. As for me, 
 sooner or later, I must die; it is therefore fortu- 
 nate there are but few to make my death-howL 
 After all, it is likely the imps would have man- 
 aged to master my scalp, so a day or two will 
 make no great difference in the everlasting reck- 
 oning of time. God bless you,” added the rug. 
 ged woodsman, bending his head aside, and then 
 instantly changing its direction again, with a wist- 
 ful look toward the youth ; “ I loved both you 
 and your father, Uncas, though our skins are not 
 altogether of a color, and our gifts are somewhat 
 different. Tell the sagamore I never lost sight of 
 him in my greatest trouble; and, as for you, 
 think of me sometimes when on a lucky trail ; and 
 depend on it, boy, whether there be one heaven 
 or two, there is a path in the other world by 
 which honest men may come together again. 
 You’ll find the rifle in the place we hid it ; take 
 it, and keep it for my sake; and harkee, lad, as 
 your natural gifts don’t deny you the use of ven- 
 geance, use it a little freely on the Mingoes ; it 
 may unburden grief at my loss, and ease your 
 mind. — Huron, I accept your offer ; release the 
 woman. I am your prisoner.” 
 
 A suppressed but still distinct murmur of ap- 
 probation ran through the crowd at this generous 
 proposition; even the fiercest among the Dela- 
 ware warriors manifesting pleasure at the manli- 
 ness of the intended sacrifice. Magua paused, 
 and for an anxious moment, it might be said, he 
 doubted ; then casting his eyes on Cora, with an 
 expression in which ferocity and admiration were 
 strangly mingled, his purpose beqame fixed for- 
 ever. 
 
 He intimated his contempt of the offer by a 
 backward motion of his head, and said, in a steady 
 and settled voice : 
 
 “ Le Renard subtil is a great chief ; he has 
 
CORA PARTING FROM HER SISTER. 
 
 157 
 
 but one mind. — Come,” he added, laying his hand 
 too familiarly on the shoulder of his captive to 
 urge her onward : “ a Huron is no tattler ; we 
 will go.” 
 
 The maiden drew back in .ofty womanly re- 
 serve, and her dark eye kindled, while the rich 
 •olood shot, like the passing brightness of the sun, 
 into her very temples, at the indignity. 
 
 ‘VI am your prisoner, and at a fitting time 
 shall be ready to follow, even to my death. But 
 violence is unnecessary,” she coldly said ; and, 
 immediately turning to Hawk-eye, added : “ Gen- 
 erous hunter t from my soul I thank you. Your 
 offer is vain, neither could it be accepted ; but 
 still you may serve me, even more than in your 
 own noble intention. Look at that drooping, 
 humbled child ! Abandon her not until you leave 
 her in the habitations of civilized men. I will 
 not say,” wringing the hard hand of the scout, 
 “ that her father will reward you — for such as 
 you are above the rewards of men — but he will 
 thank you, and bless you. And, believe me, the 
 blessing of a just and aged man has virtue in the 
 sight of Heaven. W ould to God, I could hear one 
 from his lips at this awful moment ! ” Her voice 
 became choked, and, for an instant, she was silent ; 
 then advancing a step nigher to Duncan, who was 
 supporting her unconscious sister, she continued, 
 in more subdued tones, but in which feeling and 
 the habits of her sex maintained a fearful strug- 
 gle : “ I need not tell you to cherish the treasure 
 you will possess. You love her, Heyward ; that 
 would conceal a thousand faults, though she had 
 them. She is kind, gentle, sweet, good, as mortal 
 may be. There is not a blemish in mind or per- 
 son at which the proudest of you all would sick- 
 en. She is fair — oh ! how surpassingly fair ! ” 
 laying her own beautiful but less brilliant hand 
 in melancholy affection on the alabaster forehead 
 of Alice, and parting the golden hair which clus- 
 tered about her brows ; “ and yet her soul is pure 
 and spotless as her skin ! I could say much — 
 more, perhaps, than cooler reason would approve ; 
 but I will spare you and myself-r-” Her voice 
 became inaudible, and her face was bent over the 
 form of her sister. After a long and burning kiss, 
 she arose, and with features of the hue of death, 
 but without even a tear in her feverish eye, she 
 turned away, and added, to the savage, with all 
 her former elevation of manner, “ Now, sir, if it 
 be your pleasure, I will follow.” 
 
 “ Ah, go,” cried Duncan, placing Alice in the 
 arms of an Indian girl ; “ go, Magua, go. These 
 Delawares have their laws, which forbid them to 
 detain you ; but I— I have no such obligation. 
 Go, malignant monster — why do you delay ? ” 
 
 It would be difficult to describe the expres- 
 sion with which Magua listened to this threat to 
 follow. There was at first a fierce and manifest 
 display of joy, and then it was instantly subdued 
 in a look of cunning coldness. 
 
 “The woods are open,” he was content with 
 answering, “ ‘ The open Hand ’ can come.” 
 
 “ Hold,” cried Hawk-eye, seizing Duncan by 
 the arm, and detaining him by violence; “you 
 know not the craft of the imp. He would lead 
 you to an ambushment, and your death — ” 
 
 “ Huron,” interrupted Uncas, who, submissive 
 to the stern customs of his people, had been an 
 attentive and grave listener to all that passed ; 
 “ Huron, the justice of the Delawares comes from 
 the Manitto. Look at the sun. He is now in the 
 upper branches of the hemlock. Your path is 
 short and open. When he is seen above the 
 trees, there will be men on your trail.” 
 
 “ I hear a crow ! ” exclaimed Magua, with a 
 taunting laugh. “Go,” he added, shaking his 
 hand at the crowd, which had slowly opened to 
 admit his passage — “where are the petticoats 
 of the Delawares ? Let them send their arrows 
 and their guns to the Wyandots ; they shall have 
 venison to eat, and corn to hoe. Dogs, rabbits, 
 thieves — I spit on you 1 ” 
 
 His parting gibes were listened to in a dead, 
 boding silence, and, with these biting words in 
 his mouth, the triumphant Magua passed un- 
 molested into the forest, followed by his passive 
 captive, and protected by the inviolable laws of 
 Indian hospitality. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 Flue. Kill tile poya and the luggage ! ‘Tis expressly 
 against the law of arms ; ’tis as arrant a piece of knavery 
 mark you now, as can be offered in the ’orld. 
 
 King Henky V. 
 
 t 
 
 So long as their enemy and his victim con- 
 tinued in sight, the multitude remained motionless 
 as beings charmed to the place by some power 
 that was friendly to the Huron ; but the instant 
 he disappeared, it became tossed and agitated by 
 fierce and powerful passion. Uncas maintained 
 his elevated stand, keeping his eyes on the form 
 of Cora, until the colors of her dress were blended 
 with the foliage of the forest ; when he descended, 
 and, moving silently through the throng, he dis- 
 appeared in that lodge from which he had so re 
 cently issued. A few of the graver and more at 
 tentive warriors, who caught the gleams of angei 
 that shot from the eyes of the young chief in pass- 
 ing, followed him to the place he had selected foi . 
 
158 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 his meditations. After which, Tamenund and 
 Alice were removed, and the women and children 
 were ordered to disperse. During the momen- 
 tous hour that succeeded, the encampment resem- 
 bled a hive of troubled bees, who only awaited the 
 appearance and example of their leader to take 
 some distant and momentous flight. 
 
 A young warrior at length issued from the 
 lodge of Uncas ; and moving deliberately, with a 
 sort of grave mareh, toward a dwarf pine that 
 grew in the crevices of the rocky terrace, he tore 
 the bark from its body, and then returned whence 
 he came without speaking. He was soon followed 
 by another, who stripped the sapling of its 
 branches, leaving it a naked and blazed * trunk. 
 A third colored the post with stripes of a dark-red 
 paint ; all which indications of a hostile design in 
 the leaders of the nation were received by the 
 men without in a gloomy and ominous silence. 
 Finally, the Mohican himself reappeared, divested 
 of all his attire except his girdle and leggings, 
 and with one-half of his fine features hid under a 
 cloud of threatening black. 
 
 Uncas moved with a slow and dignified tread 
 toward the post, which he immediately com- 
 menced encircling with a measured step, not un- 
 like an ancient dance, raising his voice, at the 
 same time, in the wild and irregular chant of his 
 war-song. The notes were in the extremes of hu- 
 man sounds ; being sometimes melancholy and ex- 
 quisitely plaintive, even rivalling the melody of 
 birds — and then, by sudden and startling tran- 
 sitions, causing the auditors to tremble by their 
 depth and energy. The words were few and often 
 repeated, proceeding gradually from a sort of in- 
 vocation, or hymn to the Deity, to an intimation 
 of the warrior’s object, and terminating as they 
 commenced with an acknowledgment of his own 
 dependence on the Great Spirit. If it were pos- 
 sible to translate the comprehensive and melodi- 
 ous language in which he spoke, the ode might 
 read something like the following : 
 
 “Manitto! Manitto! Manitto ! 
 
 Thou art great, thou art good, thou art wise : 
 Manitto 1 Manitto! 
 
 Thou art just. 
 
 “ In the heavens, in the clouds, oh ! I see 
 Many spots — many dark, many red : 
 
 In the heavens, oh ! I see 
 Many clouds. 
 
 “ In the woods, in the air, oh ! I hear 
 The whoop, the long yell, and the cry : 
 
 • A tree which has been partially or entirely stripped of 
 hs bark is said, in the language of the country, to be 
 “ blazed.” The term is strictly English for a horse Is said 
 to be blazed when it has a white mark. 
 
 In the woods, oh 1 1 hear 
 The loud whoop I 
 
 “Manitto! Manitto! Manitto! 
 
 I am weak — thou art strong ; I am slow— 
 
 Manitto! Manitto 1 
 Give me aid.” 
 
 At the end of what might be called each verst 
 he made a pause, by raising a note louder and 
 longer than common, that was peculiarly suited 
 to the sentiment just expressed. The first close 
 was solemn, and intended to convey the idea of 
 veneration ; the second descriptive, bordering on 
 the alarming ; and the third was the well-known 
 and terrific war-whoop, which burst from the lips 
 of the young warrior, like a combination of all the 
 frightful sounds of battle. The last was like the 
 first, humble and imploring. Three times did he 
 repeat this song, and as often did he encircle the 
 post in his dance. 
 
 At the close of the first turn, a grave and 
 highly-esteemed chief of the Lenape followed his 
 example, singing words of his own, however, to 
 music of a similar character. Warrior after war- 
 rior enlisted in the dance, until all of any renown 
 and authority were numbered in its mazes. The 
 spectacle now became wildly terrific : the fierce - 
 looking and menacing visages of the chiefs receiv- 
 ing additional power from the appalling strains in 
 which they mingled their guttural tones. Just 
 then Uncas struck his tomahawk deep into the 
 post, and raised his voice in a shout, which might 
 be termed his own battle-cry. The act announced 
 that he had assumed the chief authority in the 
 intended expedition. 
 
 It was a signal that awakened all the slumber- 
 ing passions of the nation. A hundred youths, 
 who had hitherto been restrained by the diffidence 
 of their years, rushed in a frantic body on the 
 fancied emblem of their enemy, and severed it 
 asunder, splinter by splinter, until nothing re- 
 mained of the trunk but its roots in the earth. 
 During this moment of tumult, the most ruthless 
 deeds of war were performed on the fragments ot 
 the tree, with as much apparent ferocity as if they 
 were the living victims of their cruelty. Some 
 were scalped ; some received the keen and trem* 
 bling axe ; and others suffered by thrusts from thr 
 fatal knife. In short, the manifestations of zea 
 and fierce delight were so great and unequivocal 
 that the expedition was declared to be a war ol 
 the nation. 
 
 The instant Uncas had strucK tuc blow, he 
 moved out of the circle, and cast his eyes up to 
 the sun, which was just gaining the point, when 
 the truce with Magua was to end. The fact was 
 soon announced by a significant gesture, acconv 
 
UNCAS ON THE WAR-PATH. 
 
 159 
 
 panied by a corresponding cry; and the whole 
 of the excited multitude abandoned their mimic 
 warfare, with shrill yells of pleasure, to prepare 
 for the more hazardous experiment of the reality. 
 
 The whole face of the encampment was in- 
 stantly changed. The warriors, who were already 
 armed and painted, became as still as if they were 
 incapable of any uncommon burst of emotion. 
 On the other hand, the women broke out of the 
 lodges with the songs of joy and those of lamen- 
 tation, so strangely mingled that it might have 
 been difficult to have said which passion pre- 
 ponderated. None, however, were idle. Some 
 bore their choicest articles, others their young, 
 and some their aged and infirm, into the forest, 
 which spread itself like a verdant carpet of bright 
 green against the side of the mountain. Thither 
 Tamenund also retired, with calm composure, 
 after a short and touching interview with Uncas ; 
 from whom the sage separated with the reluc- 
 tance that a parent would quit a long-lost and 
 just-recovered child. In the mean time, Duncan 
 saw Alice to a place of safety, and then sought 
 the scout, with a countenance that denoted how 
 eagerly he also panted for the approaching con- 
 test. 
 
 But Hawk-eye was too much accustomed to 
 the war-song and the enlistments of the natives 
 to betray any interest in the passing scene. He 
 merely cast an occasional look at the number and 
 quality of the warriors, who, from time to time, 
 signified their readiness to accompany Uncas to 
 the field. In this particular he was soon satis- 
 fied ; for, as has been already seen, the power of 
 the young chief quickly embraced every fighting 
 man in the nation. After this material point was 
 so satisfactorily decided, he dispatched an Indian 
 boy in quest of “ Kill-deer ” and the rifle of Un- 
 cas, to the place where they had deposited the 
 weapons on approaching the camp of the Dela- 
 wares ; a measure of double policy, inasmuch as 
 it protected the arms from their own fate, if de- 
 tained as prisoners, and gave them the advantage 
 of appearing among the strangers rather as suf- 
 ferers than as men provided with the means of 
 defence and subsistence. In selecting another to 
 perform the office of reclaiming his highly-prized 
 rifle, the scout had lost sight of none of his 
 habitual caution. He knew that Magua had not 
 come unattended, and he also knew that Huron 
 spies watched the movements of their new ene- 
 mies along the whole boundary of the woods. It 
 would, therefore, have been fatal to himself to 
 have attempted the experiment ; a warrior would 
 have fared no better ; but the danger of a boy 
 would not be likely to commence until after his 
 
 26 
 
 object was discovered. When Heyward joined 
 him, the scout was coolly awaiting the result of 
 this experiment. 
 
 The boy, who had been well instructed, and 
 was sufficiently crafty, proceeded, with a bosom 
 that was swelling with the pride of such a confi 
 dence and all the hopes of young ambition, care- 
 lessly across the clearing to the wood, which he 
 entered at a point at some little distance from the 
 place where the guns were secreted. The in- 
 stant, however, he was concealed by the foliage 
 of the bushes, his dusky form was to be seen 
 gliding, like that of a serpent, toward the desired 
 treasure. He was successful; and in another 
 moment he appeared flying across the narrow 
 opening, that skirted the base of the terrace on 
 which the village stood, with the velocity of an 
 arrow, and bearing a prize in each hand. He had 
 actually gained the crags, and was leaping up 
 their sides with incredible activity, when a shot 
 from the woods showed how accurate had been 
 the judgment of the scout. The boy answered it 
 with a feeble but contemptuous shout ; and im- 
 mediately a second bullet was sent after him from 
 another part of the cover. At the next instant 
 he appeared on the level above, elevating his 
 guns in triumph, while he moved with the air of 
 a conqueror toward the renowned hunter who 
 had honored him by so glorious a commission. 
 
 Notwithstanding the lively interest Hawk-eye 
 had taken in the fate of his messenger, he re- 
 ceived “ Kill-deer ” with a satisfaction that, mo- 
 mentarily, drove all other recollections from his 
 mind. After examining the piece with an in- 
 telligent eye, and opening and shutting the pan 
 some ten or fifteen times, and trying sundry 
 other equally important experiments on the lock, 
 he turned to the boy, and demanded, with great 
 manifestations of kindness, if he was hurt. The 
 urchin looked proudly up in his face, but made no 
 reply. 
 
 “ Ah ! I see, lad, the knaves have barked 
 your arm ! ” added the scout, taking up the 
 limb of the patient sufferer, across which a deep 
 flesh-wound had been made by one of the bullets ; 
 “ but a little bruised alder will act like a charm 
 In the mean time I will wrap it in a badge of 
 wampum. You have commenced the business 
 of a warrior early, my brave boy, and are likelj 
 to bear a plenty of honorable scars to your grave. 
 I know many young men that have taken scalps 
 who cannot show such a mark as this. Go,” 
 having bound up the arm ; “ you will be a chief! ” 
 
 The lad departed, prouder of his flowing 
 blood than the vainest courtier could be of his 
 blushing ribbon ; and stalked among the fellows 
 
160 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 of his age, an object of general admiration and 
 envy. 
 
 But in a moment of so many serious and im- 
 portant duties, this single act of juvenile fortitude 
 did not attract the general notice and commen- 
 dation it would have received under milder au- 
 spices. It had, however, served to apprise the 
 Delawares of the position and the intentions of 
 their enemies. Accordingly, a party of adven- 
 turers, better suited to the task than the weak 
 though spirited boy, was ordered to dislodge the 
 skulkers. The duty was soon performed ; for 
 most of the Hurons retired of themselves when 
 they found they had been discovered. The Dela- 
 wares followed to a sufficient distance from their 
 own encampment and then halted for orders, ap- 
 prehensive of being led into an ambush. As 
 both parties secreted themselves, the woods were 
 again as still and quiet as a mild summer morn- 
 ing and deep solitude could render them. 
 
 The calm but still impatient Uncas now col- 
 lected his chiefs and divided his power. He pre- 
 sented Hawk-eye as a warrior often tried and al- 
 ways found deserving of confidence. When he 
 found his friend met with a favorable reception, 
 he bestowed on him the command of twenty men, 
 like himself, active, skilful, and resolute. He 
 gave the Delawares to understand the rank of 
 Heyward among the troops of the Yengeese, and 
 then tendered to him a trust of equal authority. 
 But Duncan declined the charge, professing his 
 readiness to serve as a volunteer by the side of 
 the scout. After this disposition, the young Mo- 
 hican appointed various native chiefs to fill the 
 different situations of responsibility, and, the time 
 pressing, he gave forth the word to march. He 
 was cheerfully but silently obeyed by more than 
 two hundred men. 
 
 Their entrance into the forest was perfectly 
 unmolested ; nor did they encounter any living 
 objects that could either give the alarm or furnish 
 the intelligence they needed, until they came 
 upon the lairs of their own scouts. Here a halt 
 was ordered, and the chiefs were assembled to 
 hold a “whispering-council.” At this meeting 
 divers plans of operation were suggested, though 
 none of a character to meet the wishes of their 
 ardent leader. Had Uncas followed the prompt- 
 ings of his own inclinations, he would have led 
 his followers to the charge without a moment’s 
 delay, and put the conflict to the hazard of an 
 instant issue ; but such a course would have been 
 in opposition to all the received practices and 
 opinions of his countrymen. He was, therefore, 
 fain to adopt a caution that in the present temper 
 df his mind he execrated, and to listen to advice 
 
 at which his fiery spirit chafed under the vivid 
 recollection of Cora’s danger and Magua’s inso- 
 lence. 
 
 After an unsatisfactory conference of many 
 minutes, a solitary individual was seen advan- 
 cing from the side of the enemy with such appar- 
 ent haste as to induce the belief he might be a 
 messenger charged with pacific overtures. When 
 within a hundred yards, however, of the cover 
 behind which the Delaware council had assem- 
 bled, the stranger hesitated, appeared uncertain 
 what course to take, and finally halted. All eyes 
 were now turned on Uncas, as if seeking direc- 
 tions how to proceed. 
 
 “ Hawk-eye,” said the young chief, in a low 
 voice, “ he must never speak to the Hurons 
 again.” 
 
 “ His time ha3 come,” said the laconic scout, 
 thrusting the long barrel of his rifle through the 
 leaves, and taking his dehberate and fatal aim. 
 But, instead of pulling the trigger, he lowered 
 the muzzle again, and indulged himself in a fit of 
 his peculiar mirth. “ I took the imp for a Mingo, 
 as I’m a miserable sinner ! ” he said ; “ but when 
 my eye ranged along his ribs for a place to get 
 the bullet in — would you think it, Uncas — I saw 
 the musicianer’s blower ! and so, after all, it is 
 the man they call Gamut, whose death can profit 
 no one, and whose life, if his tongue can do any 
 thing but sing, may be made serviceable to our 
 own ends. If sounds have not lost their virtue, 
 I’ll soon have a discourse with the honest fellow, 
 and that in a voice he’ll find more agreeable than 
 the speech of ‘ Kill-deer.’ ” 
 
 So saying, Hawk-eye laid aside his rifle ; and 
 crawling through the bushes until within hearing 
 of David, he attempted to repeat the musical ef- 
 fort, which had conducted himself, with so much 
 safety and eclat, through the Huron encampment 
 The exquisite organs of Gamut could not readily 
 be deceived (and, to say the truth, it would have 
 been difficult for any other than Hawk-eye to 
 produce a similar noise), and consequently, hav- 
 ing once before heard the sounds, he now knew 
 whence they proceeded. The poor fellow appeared 
 relieved from a state of great embarrassment ; for 
 pursuing the direction of the voice — a task that 
 to him was not much less arduous than it would 
 have been to have gone up in the face of a bat- 
 tery — he soon discovered the hidden songster. 
 
 “I wonder what the Hurons will think of 
 that ? ” said the scout, laughing, as he took his 
 companion by the arm, and urged him toward 
 the rear. “ If the knaves lie within ear-shot, 
 they will say there are two non-compossers in- 
 stead of one ! But here we are safe,” he added. 
 
NARROW ESCAPE OF GAMUT. 
 
 161 
 
 pointing to Uncas and his associates. “Now- 
 give us the history of the Mingo inventions in 
 natural English, and without any ups and downs 
 of voice.” 
 
 David gazed about him, at the fierce and wild- 
 looking chiefs, in mute wonder ; but assured by 
 the presence of faces that he knew, he soon rallied 
 his faculties so far as to make an intelligent re- 
 ply. 
 
 “ The heathen are abroad in goodly numbers,” 
 said David ; “ and, I fear, with evil intent. There 
 has been much howling and ungodly revelry, 
 together with such sounds as it is profanity to 
 utter, in their habitations within the past hour ; 
 bo much so, in trath, that I have fled to the Dela- 
 wares in search of peace.” 
 
 “Your ears might not have profited much by 
 the exchange, had you been quicker of foot,” 
 returned the scout, a little dryly. “ But let that 
 be as it may ; where are the Hurons ? ” 
 
 “ They lie hid in the forest, between this spot 
 and their village, in such force, that prudence 
 would teach you instantly to return.” 
 
 Uncas cast a glance along the range of trees 
 which concealed his own band and mentioned the 
 name of — 
 
 “ Hagua ? ” 
 
 “ Is among them. He brought in the maiden 
 that had sojourned with the Delawares, and leav- 
 ing her in the cave, has put himself, like a raging- 
 wolf, at the head of his savages. I know not 
 what has troubled his spirit so greatly ! ” 
 
 “ He has left her, you say, in the cave ! ” in- 
 terrupted Heyward ; “ ’tis well that we know its 
 situation ! May not something be done for her 
 instant relief? ” 
 
 Uncas looked earnestly at the scout, before 
 he asked : 
 
 “What says Hawk-eye ? ” 
 
 “ Give me my twenty rifles, and I will turn to 
 the right, along the stream ; and, passing by the 
 huts of the beaver, will join the sagamore and 
 the colonel. You shall then hear the whoop from 
 that quarter ; with this wind one may easily send 
 it a mile. Then, Uncas, do you drive in their 
 front; when they come within range of our 
 pieces, we will give them a blow that, I pledge 
 the good name of an old frontiersman, shall make 
 their line bend like an ashen bow. After which, 
 we will carry their village, and take the woman 
 from the cave ; when the affair may be finished 
 with the tribe, according to a white man’s battle, 
 by a blow and a victory ; or, in the Indian fash- 
 ion, with dodge and cover. There may be no 
 great learning, major, in this plan, but with cour- 
 age and patience it can all be done.” 
 
 11 
 
 “ I like it much,” cried Duncan, who saw that 
 the release of Cora was the primary object in the 
 mind of the scout — “ I like it much. Let it be 
 instantly attempted.” 
 
 After a short conference, the plan was ma- 
 tured, and rendered more intelligible to the sev- 
 eral parties ; the different signals were appointed, 
 and the chiefs separated, each to his allotted sta- 
 ‘ tion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 “ But plagues shall spread, and funeral-fires increase, 
 
 Till the great king, without a ransom paid. 
 
 To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed maid.” 
 
 Pope. 
 
 During the time Uncas was making this dis- 
 position of his forces, the woods were as still, 
 and, with the exception of those who had met in 
 council, apparently as much untenanted, as when 
 they came fresh from the hands of their Almighty 
 Creator. The eye could range, in every direction, 
 through the long and shadowed vistas of the 
 trees ; but nowhere was any object to be seen 
 that did not properly belong to the peaceful and 
 slumbering scenery. Here and there a bird was 
 heard fluttering among the branches of the 
 beeches, and occasionally a squirrel dropped a 
 nut, drawing the startled looks of the party, for 
 a moment, to the place ; but the instant the 
 casual interruption ceased, the passing air was 
 heard murmuring above their heads, along that 
 verdant and undulating surface of forest, which 
 spread itself unbroken, unless by stream or lake, 
 over such a vast region of country. Across the 
 tract ot wilderness, which lay between the Dela- 
 wares and the village of their enemies, it seemed 
 as if the foot of man had never trodden, so 
 breathing and deep was the silence in which it 
 lay. But Hawk-eye, whose duty led him fore- 
 most in the adventure, knew the character of 
 those with whom he was about to contend too 
 well to trust the treacherous quiet. 
 
 When he saw his little band collected, the 
 scout threw “ Kill-deer ” into the hollow of his 
 arm, and, making a silent signal that he would be 
 followed, he led them many rods toward the rear, 
 into the bed of a little brook which they had 
 crossed in advancing. Here he halted, and after 
 waiting for the whole of his grave and attentive 
 warriors to close about him, he spoke in Dela- 
 ware, demanding: 
 
 “ Do any of my young men know whither this 
 run will lead us ? ” 
 
 A Delaware stretched forth a hand, with the 
 
162 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 two fingers separated, and, indicating the manner 
 in which they were jojied at the root, he 
 answered : 
 
 “ Before the sun could go his own length, the 
 little water will be in the big.” Then he added, 
 pointing in the direction of the place he mentioned, 
 
 M The two make enough for the beavers.” 
 
 “I thought as much,” returned the scout, 
 glancing his eye upward at the openings in the 
 tree-tops, “ from the course it takes, and the bear- 
 ings of the mountains. Men, we will keep within 
 the cover of its banks till we scent the Hurons.” 
 
 His companions gave the usual brief excla- 
 mation of assent, but, perceiving that their lead- 
 er was about to lead the way in person, one or 
 two made signs that all was not as it should 
 be. Hawk-eye, who comprehended their meaning 
 glances, turned, and perceived that his party had 
 been followed thus far by the singing-master. 
 
 “ Do you know, friend, ” asked the scout, 
 gravely, and perhaps with a little of the pride of 
 conscious deserving in his manner, “ that this is a 
 band of rangers chosen for the most desperate 
 service, and put under the command of one who, 
 though another might say it with a better face, 
 will not be apt to leave them idle ? It may not be 
 five, it cannot be thirty, minutes before we tread 
 on the body of a Huron, living or dead.” 
 
 “Though not admonished of your intentions 
 In words,” returned David, whose face was a little 
 flushed, and whose ordinarily quiet and unmeaning 
 eyes glimmered with an expression of unusual 
 fire, “ your men have reminded me of the children 
 of Jacob going out to battle against the Shechem- 
 ites, for wickedly aspiring to wedlock with a 
 woman of a race that was favored of the Lord. 
 Now, I have journeyed far, and sojourned much 
 in good and evil with the maiden ye seek ; and 
 though not a man of war, with my loins girded 
 and my sword sharpened, yet would I gladly 
 strike a blow in her behalf.” 
 
 The scout hesitated, as if weighing the chances 
 of such a strange enlistment in his mind, before 
 he answered : 
 
 “ You know not the use of any we’pon. You 
 carry no rifle ; and, believe me, what the Mingoes 
 take they will freely give again.” 
 
 “ Though not a vaunting and bloodily-disposed 
 Goliath,” returned David, drawing a sling from be- 
 neath his party-colored and uncouth attire, “ I have 
 not forgotten the example of the Jewish boy. 
 With this ancient instrument of war have I 
 practised much in my youth, and peradventure the 
 skill has not entirely departed from me.” 
 
 “Ay!” said Hawk-eye, considering the deer- 
 skin thong and apron with a cold and discouraging 
 
 eye, “the thing might do its work among arrows, 
 or even knives ; but these Mengwe have been 
 furnished by the Frenchers with a good grooved 
 barrel a man. However, it seems to be your gift 
 to go unharmed amid fire ; and as you have hitherto 
 been favored — major, you have left your rifle at a 
 cock ; a single shot before the time would be just 
 twenty scalps lost to no purpose — singer, you can 
 follow ; we may find use for you in the shoutings.” 
 
 “ I thank you, friend,” returned David, supply- 
 ing himself, like his royal namesake, from among 
 the pebbles of the brook ; “ though not given to 
 the desire to kill, had you sent me away my spirit 
 would have been troubled.” 
 
 “ Remember,” added the scout, tapping his own 
 head significantly on that spot where Gamut was 
 yet sore, “ we come to fight, and not to musickate. 
 Until the general whoop is given, nothing speaks 
 but the rifle.” 
 
 David nodded, as much as to signify his acqui. 
 escence with the terms ; and then Hawk-eye, cast- 
 ing another observant glance over his followers, 
 made the signal to proceed. 
 
 Their route lay, for the distance of a mile, 
 along the bed of the water-course. Though pro- 
 tected from any great danger of observation by 
 the precipitous banks, and the thick shrubbery 
 which skirted the stream, no precaution known to 
 an Indian attack was neglected. A warrior rather 
 crawled than walked on each flank, so as to catch 
 occasional glimpses into the forest ; and e^ery few 
 minutes the band came to a halt, and listened for 
 hostile sounds, with an acuteness of organs that 
 would be scarcely conceivable to a man in a less 
 natural state. Their march was, however, unmo- 
 lested, and they reached the point where the 
 lesser stream was lost in the greater, without the 
 smallest evidence that their progress had been 
 noted. Here the scout again halted, to consult 
 the signs of the forest. 
 
 “We are likely to have a good day for a 
 fight,” he said, in English, addressing Heyward, 
 and glancing his eye upward at the clouds, which 
 began to move in broad sheets across the firma- 
 ment; “a bright sun and a glittering barrel aie 
 no friends to true sight. Every thing is favor- 
 able ; they have the wind, which will bring down 
 their noses and their smoke too, no little matter 
 in itself; whereas, with us it will be first a shot, 
 and then a clear view. But here is an end of our 
 cover; the beavers have had the range of this 
 stream for hundreds of years, and, what atween 
 their food and their dams, there is, as you see, 
 many a girdled stub, but few living trees.” 
 
 Hawk-eye had, in truth, in these few words, 
 given no bad description of the prospect that now 
 
THE SCOUT’S STRATEGY. 
 
 163 
 
 lay in their front. The brook was irregular in its 
 width, sometimes shooting through narrow fis- 
 sures in the rocks, and, at others, spreading over 
 acres of bottom-land, forming little areas that 
 might be termed ponds. Everywhere along its 
 banks were the mouldering relics of dead trees, 
 in all the stages of decay, from those that groaned 
 on their tottering trunks to such as had recently 
 been robbed of those rugged coats that so mys- 
 teriously contain their principle of life. A few 
 long, low, and moss-covered piles were scattered 
 among them, like the memorials of a former and 
 long-departed generation. 
 
 All these minute particulars were noted by the 
 scout, with a gravity and interest that they prob- 
 ably had never before attracted. He knew that 
 the Huron encampment lay a short half mile up 
 the brook ; and, with the characteristic anxiety 
 of one who dreaded a hidden danger, he was 
 greatly troubled at not finding the smallest trace 
 of the presence of his enemy. Once or twice he 
 felt induced to give the order for a rush, and to 
 attempt the village by surprise ; but his experi- 
 ence quickly admonished him of the danger of so 
 useless an experiment. Then he listened intently, 
 and with painful uncertainty, for the sounds of 
 hostility in the quarter where Uncas was left; 
 but nothing was audible except the sighing of the 
 wind, that began to sweep over the bosom of the 
 forest in gusts which threatened a tempest. At 
 length, yielding rather to his unusual impatience 
 than taking counsel from his knowledge, he de- 
 termined to bring matters to an issue, by un- 
 masking his force, and proceeding cautiously but 
 steadily up the stream. 
 
 The scout had stood, while making his obser- 
 vations, sheltered by a brake, and his companions 
 still lay in the bed of the ravine, through which 
 the smaller stream debouched; but on hearing 
 his low, though intelligible signal, the whole par- 
 ty stole up the bank, like so many dark spec- 
 tres, and silently arranged themselves around him. 
 Pointing in the direction he wished to proceed, 
 Hawk-eye advanced, the band breaking off in sin- 
 gle files, and following so accurately in his foot- 
 steps, as to leave it, if we except Heyward and 
 David, the trail of but a single man. 
 
 The party was, however, scarcely uncovered 
 before a volley from a dozen rifles was heard in 
 their rear ; and a Delaware leaping high into the 
 air, like a wounded deer, fell at his whole length, 
 perfectly dead. 
 
 “ Ah 1 I feared some deviltry like this ! ” ex- 
 claimed the scout, in English ; adding, with the 
 quickness of thought, in his adopted tongue, “ To 
 cover, men, and charge ! ” 
 
 The band dispersed at the word, and, before 
 Heyward had well recovered from his surprise, he 
 found himself standing alone with David. Lucki- 
 ly, the Hurons had already fallen back, and he 
 was safe from their fire. But this state of things 
 was evidently to be of short continuance ; for the 
 scout set the example of pressing on their retreat, 
 by discharging his rifle, and darting from tree to 
 tree, as his enemy slowly yielded ground. 
 
 It would seem that the assault had been made 
 by a very small party of the Hurons, which, how- 
 ever, continued to increase in numbers, as it re- 
 tired on its friends, until the return fire was very 
 nearly, if not quite, equal to that maintained by 
 the advancing Delawares. Heyward threw him- 
 self among the combatants, and, imitating the 
 necessary caution of his companions, he made 
 quick discharges with his own rifle. The contest 
 now grew warm and stationary. Few were in- 
 jured, as both parties kept their bodies as much 
 protected as possible by the trees ; never, indeed, 
 exposing any part of their persons except in the 
 act of taking aim. But the chances were gradu- 
 ally growing unfavorable to Hawk-eye and his 
 band. The quick-sighted scout perceived his 
 danger, without knowing how to remedy it. He 
 saw it was more dangerous to retreat than to 
 maintain his ground ; while he found his enemy 
 throwing out men on his flank, which rendered the 
 task of keeping themselves covered so very diffi- 
 cult to the Delawares, as nearly to silence their 
 fire. At this embarrassing moment, when they 
 began to think the whole of the hostile tribe was 
 gradually encircling them, they heard the yell of 
 combatants, and the rattling of arms, echoing 
 under the arches of the wood, at the place where 
 Uncas was posted ; a bottom which, in a manner, 
 lay beneath the ground on which Hawk-eye and 
 his party were contending. 
 
 The effects of this attack were instantaneous, 
 and to the scout and his friends greatly relieving. 
 It would seem that, while his own surprise had 
 been anticipated, and had consequently failed, the 
 enemy, in their turn, having been deceived in its 
 object and in his numbers, had left too small a 
 force to resist the impetuous onset of the young 
 Mohican. This fact was doubly apparent, by the 
 rapid manner in which the battle in the forest 
 rolled upward toward the village, and by an in- 
 stant falling off in the number of their assailants, 
 who rushed to assist in maintaining the front, 
 and, as it now proved to be, the principal point 
 of defence. 
 
 Animating his followers by his voice, and his 
 own example, Hawk-eye then gave the word to 
 bear down upon their foes. The charge, in that 
 
164 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 rude species of warfare, consisted merely in push- 
 ing from cover to cover, nigher to the enemy ; 
 and in this manoeuvre he was instantly and suc- 
 cessfully obeyed. The Hurons were compelled to 
 withdraw, and the scene of the contest rapidly 
 changed from the more open ground on which it 
 had commenced, to a spot where the assailed 
 found a thicket to rest upon. Here the struggle 
 was protracted, arduous, and seemingly of doubt- 
 ful issue; the Delawares, though none of them 
 fell, beginning to bleed freely, in consequence of 
 the disadvantage at which they were held. 
 
 In this crisis, Hawk-eye found means to get 
 behind the same tree as that which served for a 
 cover to Heyward ; most of his own combatants 
 being within call, a little on his right, where they 
 maintained rapid, though fruitless, discharges on 
 their sheltered enemies. 
 
 “ You are a young man, major,” said the scout, 
 dropping the butt of “Kill-deer” to the earth, 
 and leaning on the barrel, a little fatigued with 
 his previous industry ; “ and it may be your gift 
 to lead armies, at some future day, ag’in these 
 imps, the Mingoes. You may here see the phi- 
 losophy of an Indian fight. It consists, mainly, in 
 a ready hand, a quick eye, and a good cover. 
 Now, if you had a company of the Royal Ameri- 
 cans here, in what manner would you set them to 
 work in this business ? ” 
 
 “ The bayonet would make a road.” 
 
 “ Ay, there is white reason in what you say ; 
 but a man must ask himself, in this wilderness, 
 how many lives he can spare. No — horse,”* 
 continued the scout, shaking his head, like one 
 who mused ; “ horse, I am ashamed to say, must, 
 sooner or later, decide these scrimmages. The 
 brutes are better than men, and to horse must 
 we come at last. Put a shodden hoof on the 
 moccasin of a red-skin ; and if his rifle be once 
 emptied, he will never stop to load it again.” 
 
 “ This is a subject that might better be dis- 
 cussed at another time,” returned Heyward ; 
 “ shall we charge ? ” 
 
 “ I see no contradiction to the gifts of any 
 man, in passing his breathing-spells in useful re- 
 flections,” the scout replied. “ As to a rush, I 
 
 * The American forest admits of the passage of horse, 
 there being little underbrush, and few tangled brakes. The 
 plan of Hawk-eye is the one which has always proved the 
 most successful in the battles between the whites and the 
 Indians. Wayne, in his celebrated campaign on the Miami, 
 received the fire of his enemies in line ; and then, causing 
 bis dragoons to wheel round his flanks, the Indians were 
 driven from their covers before they had time to load. One 
 of the most conspicuous of the chiefs who fought in the 
 battle of Miami assured the writer that the red men could 
 not fight the warriors with “long knives and leather stock- 
 ings ; ” meaning the dragoons with their sabres and boots. 
 
 little relish such a measure ; for a scalp or two 
 must be thrown away in the attempt. And yet,” 
 he added, bending his head aside, to catch the 
 sounds of the distant combat, “ if we are to be of 
 use to Uncas, these knaves in our front must be 
 got rid of ! ” 
 
 Then turning, with a prompt and decided air, 
 he called aloud to his Indians, in their own lan- 
 guage. His words were answered by a shout ; 
 and, at a given signal, each warrior made a swift 
 movement around his particular tree. The sight 
 of so many dark bodies, glancing before their 
 eyes at the same instant, drew a hasty, and con- 
 sequently an ineffectual fire from the Hurons. 
 Without stopping to breathe, the Delawares 
 leaped, in long bounds, toward the wood, like so 
 many panthers springing upon their prey. Hawk- 
 eye was in front, brandishing his terrible rifle, 
 and animating his followers by his example. A 
 few of the older and more cunning Hurons, who 
 had not been deceived by the artifice which had 
 been practised to draw their fire, now made a 
 close and deadly discharge of their pieces, and 
 justified the apprehensions of the scout, by felling 
 three of his foremost warriors. But the shoci." 
 was insufficient to repel the impetus of the charge. 
 The Delawares broke into the cover with the fe- 
 rocity of their natures, and swept away every 
 trace of resistance by the fury of the onset. 
 
 The combat endured only for an instant, hand 
 to hand, and then the assailed yielded ground 
 rapidly, until they reached the opposite margin 
 of the thicket, where they clung to the cover with 
 that sort of obstinacy that is so often witnessed in 
 hunted brutes. At this critical moment, when the 
 success of the struggle was again becoming doubt- 
 ful, the crack of a rifle was heard behind the Hu- 
 rons, and a bullet came whizzing from among 
 some beaver-lodges, which were situated in the 
 clearing, in their rear, and was followed by the 
 fierce and appalling yell of the war-whoop. 
 
 “ There speaks the sagamore ! ” shouted 
 Hawk-eye, answering the cry with his own sten- 
 torian voice ; “ we have them now in face and 
 back ! ” 
 
 The effect on the Hurons was instantaneous. 
 Discouraged by an assault from a quarter that left 
 them no opportunity for cover, their warriors ut- 
 tered a common yell of disappointment, and break 
 ing off in a body, they spread themselves across the 
 opening, heedless of every consideration but flight. 
 Many fell, in making the experiment, under the 
 bullets and the blows of the pursuing Delawares. 
 
 We shall not pause to detail the meeting be- 
 tween the scout and Chingachgook, or the more 
 touching interview that Duncan held with Munro. 
 
THE DELAWARES’ VICTORY. 
 
 165 
 
 A few brief and hurried words served to explain 
 the state of things to both parties ; and then 
 Hawk-eye, pointing out the sagamore to his band, 
 resigned the chief authority into the hands of the 
 Mohican chief. Chingachgook assumed the sta- 
 tion to which his birth and experience gave him 
 so distinguished a claim, with the grave dignity 
 that always gives force to the mandates of a na- 
 tive warrior. Following the footsteps of the 
 scout, he led the party back through the thicket, 
 his men scalping the fallen Hurons, and secreting 
 the bodies of their own dead as they proceeded, 
 until they gained a point where the former was 
 content to make a halt. 
 
 The warriors, who had breathed themselves 
 freely in the preceding struggle, were now posted 
 on a bit of level ground, sprinkled with trees in 
 sufficient numbers to conceal them. The land 
 fell away rather precipitately in front, and be- 
 neath their eyes stretched, for several miles, a 
 uarrow, dark, and wooded vale. It was through 
 this dense and dark forest that Uncas was still 
 contending with the main body of the Hurons. 
 
 The Mohican and his friends advanced to the 
 brow of the hill, and listened, with practised ears, 
 to the sounds of the combat. A few birds hov- 
 ered over the leafy bosom of the valley, frightened 
 from their secluded nests ; and here and there a 
 light vapory cloud, which seemed already blend- 
 ing with the atmosphere, rose above the trees, 
 and indicated some spot where the struggle had 
 been fierce and stationary. 
 
 “The fight is coming up the ascent,” said 
 Duncan, pointing in the direction of a new explo- 
 sion of fire-arms ; “ we are too much in the centre 
 of their line to be effective.” 
 
 “ They will incline into the hollow, where the 
 cover is thicker,” said the scout, “ and that will 
 leave us well on their flank. — Go, sagamore ; you 
 will hardly be in time to give the whoop, and lead 
 on the young men. I will fight this scrimmage 
 with warriors of my own color. You know me, 
 Mohican ; not a Huron of them all shall cross 
 the swell, into your rear, without the notice of 
 * Kill-deer.’ ” 
 
 The Indian chief paused another moment to 
 consider the signs of the contest, which was now 
 rolling rapidly up the ascent, a certain evidence 
 that the Delawares triumphed ; nor did he actu- 
 ally quit the place until admonished of the prox- 
 imity of his friends, as well as enemies, by the 
 bullets of the former, which began to patter 
 among the dried leaves on the ground, like the 
 bits of falling hail which precede the bursting of 
 the tempest. Hawk-eye and his three companions 
 withdrew a few paces to a shelter, and awaited 
 
 the issue with calmness, that nothing but great 
 practice could impart in such a scene. 
 
 It was not long before the reports of the rifles 
 began to lose the echoes of the woods, and to 
 sound like weapons discharged in the open air. 
 Then a warrior appeared, here and there, driven 
 to the skirts of the forest, and rallying as he en- 
 tered the clearing, as at the place where the final 
 stand was to be made. These were soon joined by 
 others, until a long line of swarthy figures was to 
 be seen clinging to the cover with the obstinacy 
 of desperation. Heyward began to grow impa- 
 tient, and turned his eyes anxiously in the direc- 
 tion of Chingachgook. The chief was seated on 
 a rock, with nothing visible but his calm visage, 
 considering the spectacle with an eye as deliber- 
 ate as if he were posted there merely to view the 
 struggle. 
 
 “ The time is come for the Delaware to strike ! ” 
 said Duncan. 
 
 “Not so, not so,” returned the scout ; “ when 
 ne scents his friends, he will let them know that 
 he is here. See, see ; the knaves are getting in 
 that clump of pines, like bees settling after their 
 flight. By the Lord, a squaw might put a bullet 
 into the centre of such a knot of dark-skins ! ” 
 
 At that instant the whoop was given, and a 
 dozen Hurons fell by a discharge from Chingach- 
 gook and his band. The shout that followed wa3 
 answered by a single war-cry from the forest, 
 and a yell passed through the air that sounded as 
 if a thousand throats were united in a common 
 effort. The Hurons staggered, deserting the cen- 
 tre of their line, and Uncas issued from the forest 
 through the opening they had left, at the head of 
 a hundred warriors. 
 
 Waving his hands right and left, the young 
 chief pointed out the enemy to his followers, who 
 separated in pursuit. The war now divided, both 
 wings of the broken Hurons seeking protection in 
 the woods again, hotly pressed by the victorious 
 Avarriors of the Lenape. A minute might have 
 passed, but the sounds were already receding in 
 different directions, and gradually losing their dis- 
 tinctness beneath the echoing arches of the woods. 
 One little knot of Hurons, however, had disdained 
 to seek a cover, and were retiring, like lions at 
 bay, slowly and sullenly up the acclivity, which 
 Chingachgook and his band had just deserted, to 
 mingle more closely in the fray. Magua was con- 
 spicuous in this party, both by his fierce and sav- 
 age mien, and by the air of haughty authority he 
 yet maintained. 
 
 In his earnestness to expedite the pursuit, 
 Uncas had left himself nearly alone ; but the mo- 
 ment his eye caught the figure of Le Subtil, every 
 
166 
 
 THE LAST OP THE MOHICANS. 
 
 other consideration was forgotten. Raising his 
 cry of battle, which recalled some six or seven 
 warriors, and reckless of the disparity of their 
 numbers, he rushed upon his enemy. Le Renard, 
 who watched the movement, paused to receive 
 him with secret joy. But at the moment when 
 he thought the rashness of his impetuous young 
 assailant had left him at his mercy, another shout 
 was given, and La longue Carabine was seen rush- 
 ing to the rescue attended by all his white as- 
 sociates. The Huron instantly turned and com- 
 menced a rapid retreat up the ascent. 
 
 There was no time for greetings or congratula- 
 tions ; for Uncas, though unconscious of the pres- 
 ence of his friends, continued the pursuit with the 
 velocity of the wind. In vain Hawk-eye called to 
 hirli to respect the covers ; the young Mohican 
 braved the dangerous fire of his enemies, and 
 soon compelled them to a flight as swift as his 
 own headlong speed. It was fortunate that the 
 race was of short continuance, and that the white 
 men were much favored by their position, or the 
 Delaware would soon have outstripped all his 
 companions and fallen a victim to his own te- 
 merity. But, ere such a calamity could happen, 
 the pursuers and pursued entered the Wyandot 
 village within striking distance of each other. 
 
 Excited by the presence of their dwellings, 
 and tired of the chase, the Hurons now made a 
 stand, and fought around their council-lodge with 
 the fury of despair The onset and the issue 
 were like the passage and destruction of a whirl- 
 wind. The tomahawk of Uncas, the blows of 
 Hawk-eye, and even the still nervous arm of Mun- 
 ro, were all busy for that passing moment, and 
 the ground was quickly strewed with their ene- 
 mies. Still Magua, though daring and much ex- 
 posed, escaped from every effort against his life 
 with that sort of fabled protection that was made 
 to overlook the fortunes of favored heroes in the 
 legends of ancient poetry. Raising a yell that 
 spoke volumes of anger and disappointment, the 
 subtle chief, when he saw his comrades fallen, 
 darted away from the place, attended by his two 
 only surviving friends, leaving the Delawares en- 
 gaged in stripping the dead of the bloody tro- 
 phies of their victory. 
 
 But Uncas, who had vainly sought him in the 
 melee y bounded forward in pursuit; Hawk-eye, 
 Heyward, and David, still pressing on his foot- 
 steps. The utmost that the scout could effect 
 was to keep the muzzle of his rifle a little in ad- 
 vance of his friend, to whom, however, it an- 
 swered every purpose of a charmed shield. Once 
 Magua appeared disposed to make another and a 
 final effort to revenge his losses ; but, abandoning 
 
 his intention as soon as demonstrated, he leaped 
 into a thicket of bushes, through which he was 
 followed by his enemies, and suddenly entered the 
 mouth of the cave already known to the reader. 
 Hawk-eye, who had only forborne to fire in 
 tenderness to Uncas, raised a shout of success, 
 and proclaimed aloud that now they were certain 
 of their game. The pursuers dashed into the 
 long and narrow entrance in time to catch a 
 glimpse of the retreating forms of the Hurons. 
 Their passage through the natural galleries and 
 subterraneous apartments of the cavern was pre- 
 ceded by the shrieks and cries of hundreds of 
 women and children. The place, seen by its dim 
 and uncertain light, appeared like the shades of 
 the infernal regions, across which unhappy ghosts 
 and savage demons were flitting in multitudes. 
 
 Still Uncas kept his eye on Magua as if life to 
 him possessed but a single object. Heyward and 
 the scout still pressed on his rear, actuated, 
 though possibly in a less degree, by a common 
 feeling. But their way was becoming intricate 
 in those dark and gloomy passages, and the 
 glimpses of the retiring warriors less distinct and 
 frequent ; and for a moment the trace was be- 
 lieved to be lost, when a white robe was seen 
 fluttering in the farther extremity of a passage 
 that seemed to lead up the mountain. 
 
 “ ’Tis Cora ! ” exclaimed Heyward, in a voice 
 in which horror and delight were wildly mingled. 
 
 “ Cora ! Cora ! ” echoed Uncas, bending for- 
 ward like a deer. 
 
 “ ’Tis the maiden ! ” shouted the scout. — 
 “ Courage, lady ; we come ! — we come ! ” 
 
 The chase was renewed with a diligence ren- 
 dered tenfold encouraging by this glimpse of the 
 captive. But the way was rugged, broken, and, 
 in spots, nearly impassable. Uncas abandoned 
 his rifle and leaped forward with headlong pre- 
 cipitation. Heyward rashly imitated his example, 
 though both were, a moment afterward, admon- 
 ished of its madness by hearing the bellowing of 
 a piece that the Hurons found time to discharge 
 down the passage in the rocks, the bullet from 
 which even gave the young Mohican a slight wound. 
 
 “We must close!” said the scout, passing 
 his friends by a desperate leap ; “ the knaves 
 will pick us all off at this distance ; and see, they 
 hold the maiden so as to shield themselves ! ” 
 
 Though his words were unheeded, or rather 
 unheard, his example was followed by his com- 
 pimions, who, by incredible exertions, got near 
 enough to the fugitives to perceive that Cora was 
 borne along between the two warriors, while 
 Magua prescribed the direction and manner of 
 their flight. At this moment the forms of all 
 
DEATH OF CORA, UNCAS, AND MAGUA. 
 
 *our were strongly drawn against an opening in 
 the sky, and they disappeared. Nearly frantic 
 with disappointment, Uncas and Heyward in- 
 creased efforts that already seemed superhuman, 
 an d they issued from the cavern on the side of 
 the mountain in time to note the route of the 
 pursued. The course lay up the ascent, and still 
 continued hazardous and laborious. 
 
 Encumbered by his rifle, and, perhaps, not 
 sustained by so deep an interest in the captive as 
 his companions, the scout suffered the latter to 
 precede him a little, Uncas, in his turn, taking 
 the lead of Heyward. In this manner rocks, 
 precipices, and difficulties, were surmounted in 
 an incredibly short space, that at another time, 
 and under other circumstances, would have been 
 deemed almost insuperable. But the impetuous 
 young men were rewarded by finding that, en- 
 cumbered with Cora, the Hurons were losing 
 ground in the race. 
 
 “ Stay, dog of the Wyandots ! ” exclaimed 
 Uncas, shaking his bright tomahawk at Magua ; 
 “ a Delaware girl calls stay ! ” 
 
 “ I will go no farther,” cried Cora, stopping 
 unexpectedly on a ledge of rocks that overhung 
 a deep precipice at no great distance from the 
 summit of the mountain. “ Kill me if thou wilt, 
 detestable Huron ; I will go no farther.” 
 
 The supporters of the maiden raised their 
 ready tomahawks with the impious joy that 
 fiends are thought to take in mischief, but Ma- 
 gua stayed the uplifted arms. The Huron chief, 
 after casting the weapons he had wrested from 
 his companions over the rock, drew his knife and 
 turned to his captive with a look in which con- 
 flicting passions fiercely contended. 
 
 “Woman,” he said, “choose; the wigwam 
 or the knife of Le Subtil ! ” 
 
 Cora regarded him not, but, dropping on her 
 knees, she raised her eyes and stretched her 
 arms toward heaven, saying, in a meek and yet 
 confiding voice : 
 
 “ I am thine ! do with me as thou seest 
 best ! ” 
 
 “ Woman,” repeated Magua, hoarsely, and 
 endeavoring in vain to catch a glance from her 
 serene and beaming eye, “ choose ! ” 
 
 But Cora neither heard nor heeded his de- 
 mand. The form of the Huron trembled in every 
 fibre, and he raised his arm on high, but dropped 
 it again with a bewildered air, like one who 
 doubted. Once more he struggled with himself 
 and lifted the keen weapon again — but just then 
 a piercing cry was heard above them, and Uncas 
 appeared, leaping frantically, from a fearful height, 
 upon the ledge. Magua recoiled a step ; and one 
 
 167 
 
 of his assistants, profiting by the chance, sheathed 
 his own knife in the bosom of Cora. 
 
 The Huron sprang like a tiger on his offend- 
 ing and already retreating countryman, but the 
 falling form of Uncas separated the unnatural 
 combatants. Diverted from his object by this 
 interruption, and maddened by the murder he had 
 just witnessed, Magua buried his weapon in the 
 back of the prostrate Delaware, uttering an un- 
 earthly shout as he committed the dastardly 
 deed. But Uncas arose from the blow as the 
 wounded panther turns upon his foe, and struck 
 the murderer of Cora to his feet by an effort in 
 which the last of his failing strength was ex- 
 pended. Then, with a stern and steady look, he 
 turned to Le Subtil and indicated, by the ex- 
 pression of his eye, all that he would do, had not 
 the power deserted him. The latter seized the 
 nerveless arm of the unresisting Delaware, and 
 passed his knife into his bosom three several 
 times before his victim, still keeping his gaze 
 riveted on his enemy with a look of inextinguish- 
 able scorn, fell dead at his feet. 
 
 “ Mercy ! mercy ! Huron,” cried Heyward, 
 from above, in tones nearly choked by horror • 
 “give mercy, and thou shalt receive it ! ” 
 
 Whirling the bloody knife up at the implor- 
 ing youth, the victorious Magua uttered a cry 
 so fierce, so wild, and yet so joyous, that it con- 
 veyed the sounds of savage triumph to the ears 
 of those who fought in the valley, a thousand 
 feet below. He was answered by a burst from 
 the lips of the scout, whose tall person was just 
 then seen moving swiftly toward him, along those 
 dangerous crags, with steps as bold and reckless 
 as if he possessed the power to move in air. 
 But when the hunter reached the scene of the 
 ruthless massacre, the ledge was tenanted only 
 by the dead. 
 
 His keen eye took a single look at the vic- 
 tims, and then shot its glances over the difficul- 
 ties of the ascent in his front. A form stood at 
 the brow of the mountain, on the very edge of 
 the giddy height, with uplifted arms, in an awful 
 attitude of menace. Without stopping to con- 
 sider his person, the rifle of Hawk-eye was 
 raised ; but a rock, which fell on the head of one 
 of the fugitives below, exposed the indignant and 
 glowing countenance of the honest Gamut. Then 
 Magua issued from a crevice, and, stepping with 
 calm indifference over the body of the last of his 
 associates, he leaped a wide fissure, and ascended 
 the rocks at a point where the arm of David 
 could not reach him. A single bound would 
 carry him to the brow of the precipice, and as- 
 sure his safety. Before taking the leap, how- 
 
168 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 ever, the Huron paused, and, shaking his hand at 
 the scout, he shouted : 
 
 “The pale-faces are dogs! the Delawares, 
 women ! Magua leaves them on the rocks, for 
 the crows ! ” 
 
 Laughing hoarsely, he made a desperate leap, 
 and fell short of his mai’k ; though his hands 
 grasped a shrub on the verge of the height. The 
 form of Hawk-eye had crouched like a beast 
 about to take its spring, and his frame trembled 
 so violently with eagerness, that the muzzle of 
 the half-raised rifle played like a leaf fluttering 
 in the wind. Without exhausting himself with 
 fruitless efforts, the cunning Magua suffered his 
 body to drop to the length of his arms, and 
 found a fragment for his feet to rest on. Then 
 summoning all his powers, he renewed the at- 
 tempt, and so far succeeded as to draw his knees 
 on the edge of the mountain. It was now, when 
 the body of his enemy was most collected togeth- 
 er, that the agitated weapon of the scout was 
 drawn to his shoulder. The surrounding rocks, 
 themselves, were not steadier than the piece be- 
 came, for the single instant that it poured out its 
 contents. The arms of the Huron relaxed, and 
 bis body fell back a little, while his knees still 
 kept their position. Turning a relentless look on 
 his enemy, he shook a hand in grim defiance. 
 But his hold loosened, and his dark person was 
 seen cutting the air with its head downward, for 
 a fleeting instant, until it glided past the fringe 
 of shrubbery which clung to the mountain, in its 
 rapid flight to destruction. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 “ They fought— like brave men, long and well. 
 
 They piled that ground with Moslem slain, 
 
 They conquered— but Bozzaris fell, 
 
 Bleeding at every vein. 
 
 His few surviving comrades saw 
 
 His smile when rang their proud hurrah, 
 
 And the red field was won ; 
 
 Then saw in death his eyelids close 
 Calmly, as to a night’s repose, 
 
 Like flowers at set of sun.” 
 
 Halleck. 
 
 The sun found the Lenape, on the succeeding 
 day, a nation of mourners. The sounds of the 
 battle were over, and they had fed fat their an- 
 cient grudge, and had avenged their recent quar- 
 rel with the Mengwe, by the destruction of a 
 whole community. The black and murky atmos- 
 phere that floated around the spot where the 
 Hurons had encamped, sufficiently announced, of 
 
 itself, the fate of that wandering tribe ; whil« 
 hundreds of ravens, that struggled above the 
 bleak summits of the mountains, or swept, in 
 noisy flocks, across the wide ranges of the woods, 
 furnished a frightful direction to the scene of 
 the combat. In short, any eye, at all practised 
 in the signs of a frontier warfare, might easily 
 have traced all those unerring evidences of the 
 ruthless results which attend an Indian vengeance. 
 
 Still, the sun rose on the Lenape a nation of 
 mourners. No shouts of success, no songs of 
 triumph, were heard, in rejoicings for their vic- 
 tory. The latest straggler had returned from his 
 fell employment, only to strip himself of the ter- 
 rific emblems of his bloody calling, and to join in 
 the lamentations of his countrymen, as a strick- 
 en people. Pride and exultation were supplanted 
 by humility, and the fiercest of human passions 
 was already succeeded by the most profound 
 and unequivocal demonstrations of grief. 
 
 The lodges were deserted ; but a broad belt 
 of earnest faces encircled a spot in their vicinity, 
 whither every thing possessing life had repaired, 
 and where all were now collected, in deep and 
 awful silence. Though beings of every rank and 
 age, of both sexes, and of all pursuits, had uni- 
 ted to form this breathing wall of bodies, they 
 were influenced by a single emotion. Each eye 
 was riveted on the centre of that ring, which 
 contained the objects of so much and of so com- 
 mon an interest. 
 
 Six Delaware girls, with their long, dark, 
 flowing tresses falling loosely across their bosoms, 
 stood apart, and only gave proofs of their exist- 
 ence as they occasionally strewed sweet-scented 
 herbs and forest flowers on a litter of fragrant 
 plants, that, under a pall of Indian robes, sup- 
 ported all that now remained of the ardent, high- 
 souled, and generous Cora. Her form was con- 
 cealed in many wrappers of the same simple manu- 
 facture, and her face was shut forever from the 
 gaze of men. At her feet was seated the desolate 
 Munro. His aged head was bowed nearly to the 
 earth, in compelled submission to the stroke of 
 Providence; but a hidden anguish struggled 
 about his furrowed brow, that was only partially 
 concealed by the careless locks of gray that had 
 fallen, neglected, on his temples. Gamut stood 
 at his side, his meek head bared to the rays of 
 the sun, while his eyes, wandering and concerned, 
 seemed to be equally divided between that little 
 volume, which contained so many quaint but holy 
 maxims, and the being in whose behalf his soul 
 yearned to administer consolation. Heyward was 
 also nigh, supporting himself against a tree, and 
 endeavoring to keep down those sudden risings 
 
INDIAN OBSEQUIES. 
 
 169 
 
 tf sorrow that it required his utmost manhood to 
 subdue. 
 
 But sad and melancholy as this group may 
 easily be imagined, it was far less touching than 
 another, that occupied the opposite space of the 
 same area. Seated, as in life, with his form and 
 limbs arranged in grave and decent composure, 
 Uncas appeared, arrayed in the most gorgeous 
 ornaments that the wealth of the tribe could 
 furnish. Rich plumes nodded above his head; 
 wampum, gorgets, bracelets, and medals, adorned 
 his person in profusion ; though his dull eye and 
 vacant lineaments too strongly contradicted the 
 idle tale of pride they would convey. 
 
 Directly in front of the corpse Chingachgook 
 was placed, without arms, paint, or adornment 
 of any sort, except the bright-blue blazonry of his 
 race, that was indelibly impressed on his naked 
 bosom. During the long period that the tribe 
 had been thus collected, the Mohican warrior had 
 kept a steady, anxious look on the cold and sense- 
 less countenance of his son. So riveted and in- 
 tense had been that gaze, and so changeless his 
 attitude, that a stranger might not have told the 
 living from the dead, but for the occasional gleam- 
 ings of a troubled spirit, that shot athwart the dark 
 visage of one, and the death-like calm that had 
 forever settled on the lineaments of the other. 
 
 The scout was hard by, leaning in a pensive 
 posture on his own fatal and avenging weapon ; 
 while Tamenund, supported by the elders of his 
 nation, occupied a high place at hand, whence he 
 might look down on the mute and sorrowful as- 
 semblage of his people. 
 
 Just within the inner edge of the circle stood 
 a soldier, in the military attire of a strange nation ; 
 and without it was his war-horse, in the centre 
 of a collection of mounted domestics, seemingly 
 in readiness to undertake some distant journey. 
 The vestments of the stranger announced him to 
 be one who held a responsible situation near the 
 person of the Captain of the Canadas ; and who, 
 as it would now seem, finding his errand of peace 
 frustrated by the fierce impetuosity of his allies, 
 was content to become a silent and sad spectator 
 of the fruits of a contest that he had arrived too 
 late to anticipate. 
 
 The day was drawing to the close of its first 
 quarter, and yet had the multitude maintained its 
 breathing stillness since its dawn. No sound 
 louder than a stifled sob had been heard among 
 them, nor had even a limb been moved through- 
 out that long and painful period, except to per- 
 form the simple and touching offerings that were 
 made, from time to time, in commemoration of 
 the dead. The patience and forbearance of 
 
 Indian fortitude could alone suppoit such an ap- 
 pearance of abstraction, as seemed now to have 
 turned each dark and motionless figure into 
 stone. 
 
 At length, the sage of the Delawares stretched 
 forth an arm, and, leaning on the shoulders of his 
 attendants, he arose with an air as feeble as if 
 another age had already intervened between the 
 man who had met his nation the preceding day, 
 and him who now tottered on his elevated stand. 
 
 “ Men of the Lenape ! ” he said, in hollow 
 tones, that sounded like a voice charged with 
 some prophetic mission ; “ the face of the Man- 
 itto is behind a cloud ! his eye is turned from 
 you ; his ears are shut ; hi3 tongue gives no 
 answer. You see him not ; yet his judgments 
 are before you. Let your hearts be open and 
 your spirits tell no lie. Men of the Lenape ! the 
 face of the Manitto is behind a cloud.” 
 
 As this simple and yet terrible annunciation 
 stole on the ears of the multitude, a stillness as 
 deep and awful succeeded as if the venerated 
 spirit they worshipped had uttered the words with- 
 out the aid of human organs ; and even the in- 
 animate Uncas appeared a being of life, com- 
 pared with the humbled and submissive throng by 
 whom he was surrounded. As the immediate 
 effect, however, gradually passed away, a low 
 murmur of voices commenced a sort of chant in 
 honor of the dead. The sounds were those of fe- 
 males, and were thrillingly soft and wailing. The 
 words were connected by no regular continuation, 
 but as one ceased another took up the eulogy, or 
 lamentation, whichever it might be called, and 
 gave vent to her emotions in such language as 
 was suggested by her feelings and the occasion. 
 At intervals the speaker was interrupted by 
 general and loud bursts of sorrow, during which 
 the girls around the bier of Cora plucked the 
 plants and flowers blindly from her body, as if 
 bewildered by grief. But, in the milder moments 
 of their plaint, these emblems of purity and sweet- 
 ness were cast back to their places, with every 
 sign of tenderness and regret. Though rendered 
 less connected by many and general interruptions 
 and outbreakings, a translation of their language 
 would have contained a regular descant, which, 
 in substance, might have proved to possess a 
 train of consecutive ideas. 
 
 A girl, selected for the task by her rank and 
 qualifications, commenced by modest allusions to 
 the qualities of the deceased warrior, embellish- 
 ing her expressions with those Oriental images 
 that the Indians have probably brought with them 
 from the extremes of the other continent, and 
 which form of themselves a link to connect the 
 
170 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 ancient histories of the two worlds. She called 
 him the “ panther of his tribe ; ” and described 
 him as one whose moccasin feft no trail on the 
 dews ; whose bound was like the leap of the 
 young fawn ; whose eye was brighter than a star 
 in the dark night ; and whose voice, in battle, 
 was loud as the thunder of the Manitto. She re- 
 minded him of the mother who bore him, and 
 dwelt forcibly on the happiness she must feel in 
 possessing such a son. She bade him tell her, 
 when they met in the world of spirits, that the 
 Delaware girls had shed tears above the grave 
 of her child, and had called her blessed. 
 
 Then, they who succeeded, changing their 
 tones to a milder and still more tender strain, 
 alluded, with the delicacy and sensitiveness of 
 women, to the stranger maiden, who had left the 
 upper earth at a time so near his own departure, 
 as to render the will of the Great Spirit too mani- 
 fest to be disregarded. They admonished him to 
 be kind to her, and to have consideration for her 
 ignorance of those arts which were so necessary 
 to the comfort of a warrior like himself. They 
 dwelt upon her matchless beauty, and on her 
 noble resolution, without the taint of envy, and 
 as angels may be thought to delight in a superior 
 excellence ; adding that these endowments should 
 prove more than equivalent for any little imper- 
 fections in her education. 
 
 After which, others again, in due succession, 
 spoke to the maiden herself, in the low, soft lan- 
 guage of tenderness and love. They exhorted her 
 to be of cheerful mind, and to fear nothing for 
 her future welfare. A hunter would be her com- 
 panion, who knew how to provide for her small- 
 est wants ; and a warrior was at her side who 
 was able to protect her against every danger. 
 They promised that her path should be pleasant, 
 and her burden light. They cautioned her against 
 unavailing regrets for the friends of her youth, 
 and the scenes where her fathers had dwelt; 
 assuring her that the “ blessed hunting-grounds 
 of the Lenape” contained vales as pleasant, 
 streams as pure, and flowers as sweet, as the 
 “ heaven of the pale-faces.” They advised her 
 to be attentive to the wants of her companion, 
 and never to forget the distinction which the 
 Manitto had so wisely established between them. 
 Then, in a wild burst of their chant, they sang 
 with united voices the temper of the Mohican’s 
 mind. They pronounced him noble, manly, and 
 generous ; all that became a warrior, and all that 
 a maid might love. Clothing their ideas in the 
 most remote and subtle images, they betrayed, 
 that, in the short period of their intercourse, they 
 bad discovered, with the intuitive perception of 
 
 their sex, the truant disposition of his inclina 
 tions. The Delaware girls had found no favor in 
 his eyes ! He was of a race that had once been 
 lords on the shores of the salt lake, and his 
 wishes had led him back to a people who dwelt 
 about the graves of his fathers. Why should not 
 such a predilection be encouraged? That she 
 was of a blood purer and richer than the rest of 
 her nation, any eye might have seen ; that she 
 was equal to the dangers and daring of a life in 
 the woods, her conduct had proved ; and now, 
 they added, the “ wise one of the earth ” had 
 transplanted her to a place where she would 
 find congenial spirits, and might be forever 
 happy. 
 
 Then, with another transition in voice and 
 subject, allusions were made to the virgin who 
 wept in the adjacent lodge. They compared her 
 to flakes of snow ; as pure, as white, as brilliant, 
 and as liable to melt in the fierce heats of sum- 
 mer, or congeal in the frosts of winter. They 
 doubted not that she was lovely in the eyes of 
 the young chief, whose skin and whose sorrow 
 seemed so like her own ; but, though far from 
 expressing such a preference, it was evident they 
 deemed her less excellent than the maid they 
 mourned. Still they denied her no meed her rare 
 charms might properly claim. Her ringlets were 
 compared tb the exuberant tendrils of the vine, 
 her eye to the blue vault of the heavens, and the 
 most spotless cloud, with its glowing flush of the 
 sun, was admitted to be less attractive than her 
 bloom. 
 
 During these and similar songs nothing was 
 audible but the murmurs of the music ; relieved, 
 as it was, or rather rendered terrible, by those 
 occasional bursts of grief which might be called 
 its choruses. The Delawares themselves listened 
 like charmed men ; and it was very apparent, by 
 the variations of their speaking countenances, 
 how deep and true was their sympathy. Even 
 David was not reluctant to lend his ears to the 
 tones of voices so sweet ; and, long ere the chant 
 was ended, his gaze announced that his soul was 
 enthralled. 
 
 The scout, to whom alone, of all the white 
 men, the words were intelligible, suffered himself 
 to be a little aroused from his meditative posture, 
 and bent his face aside, to catch their meaning, 
 as the girls proceeded. But when they spoke of 
 the future prospects of Cora and UncaS, he shook 
 his head, like one who knew the error of their 
 simple creed, and, resuming his reclining attitude, 
 he maintained it until the ceremony — if that might 
 be called a ceremony, in which feeling was so deep- 
 ly imbued — was finished. Happily for the self- 
 
COLONEL MUNRO’S FAREWELL ADDRESS. 
 
 171 
 
 command of both Heyward and Hunro, they knew 
 not the meaning of the wild sounds they heard. 
 
 Chingacbgook was a solitary exception to the 
 interest manifested by the native part of the audi- 
 ence. His look never changed throughout the 
 whole of the scene, nor did a muscle move in his 
 rigid countenance, even at the wildest or the most 
 pathetic parts of the lamentation. The cold and 
 senseless remains of his son was all to him, 
 and every other sense but that of sight seemed 
 frozen, in order that his eyes might take their 
 final gaze at those lineaments he had so long 
 loved, and which were now about to be closed for- 
 ever from his view. 
 
 In this stage of the funeral obsequies, a war- 
 rior, much renowned for deeds in arms, and more 
 especially for services in the recent combat, a 
 man of stern and grave demeanor, advanced slow- 
 ly from the crowd, and placed himself nigh the 
 person of the dead. 
 
 “ Why hast thou left us, pride of the Wapa- 
 nachki ? ” he said, addressing himself to the dull 
 ears of Uncas, as if the empty clay retained the 
 faculties of the animated man; “thy time has 
 been like that of the sun when in the trees ; thy 
 glory brighter than his light at noonday. Thou 
 art gone, youthful warrior, but a hundred Wvan- 
 dots are clearing the briers from thy path to the 
 world of spirits. Who that saw thee in battle 
 would believe that thou couldst die ? Who be- 
 fore thee has ever shown Uttawa the way into the 
 fight ? Thy feet were like the wings of eagles ; 
 thine arm heavier than falling branches from the 
 pine; and thy voice like the Manitto when he 
 speaks in the clouds. The tongue of Uttawa is 
 weak,” he added, looking about him with a mel- 
 ancholy gaze, “ and his heart exceeding heavy. 
 Pride of the Wapanachki, why hast thou left us ? ” 
 
 He was succeeded by others, in due order, 
 until most of the high and gifted men of the na- 
 tion had sung or spoken their tribute of praise 
 over the manes of the deceased chief. When each 
 had ended, another deep and breathing silence 
 reigned in all the place. 
 
 Then a low, deep sound was heard, like the 
 suppressed accompaniment of distant music, ris- 
 ing just high enough on the air to be audible, and 
 yet so indistinctly as to leave its character, and 
 the place whence it proceeded, alike matters of 
 conjecture. It was, however, succeeded by an- 
 other and another strain, each in a higher key, 
 until they grew on the ear, first in long-drawn and 
 often-repeated interjections, and finally in words. 
 The lips of Chingachgook had so far parted as to 
 announce tnat it was the monody of the father. 
 Though not an eye was turned toward him, nor 
 
 the smallest sign of impatience exhibited, it was 
 apparent, by the manner in which the multitude 
 elevated their heads to listen, that they drank in 
 the sounds with an intenseness of attention that 
 none but Tamenund himself had ever before com- 
 manded. But they listened in vain. The strains 
 rose just so loud as to become intelligible, and 
 then grew fainter and more trembling, until they 
 finally sank on the ear, as if borne away by a pass- 
 ing breath of wind. The lips of the sagamore 
 closed, and he remained silent in his seat, looking, 
 with his riveted eye and motionless form, like some 
 creature that had been turned from the Almighty 
 hand with the form but without the spirit of a 
 man. The Delawares, who knew by these symp- 
 toms that the mind of their friend was not pre- 
 pared for so mighty an effort of fortitude, relaxed 
 in their attention ; and, with an innate delicacy, 
 seemed to bestow all their thoughts on the obse- 
 quies of the stranger maiden. 
 
 A signal was given, by one of the elder chiefs, 
 to the women, who crowded that part of the circle 
 near which the body of Cora lay. Obedient to 
 the sign, the girls raised the bier to the elevation 
 of their heads, and advanced with slow and regu- 
 lated steps, chanting, as they proceeded, another 
 wailing song in praise of the deceased. Gamut, 
 who had been a close observer of rites he deemed 
 so heathenish, now bent his head over the shoul- 
 der of the unconscious father, whispering — 
 
 “ They move with the remains of thy child ; 
 shall we not follow, and see them interred with 
 Christian burial ? ” 
 
 Munro started, as if the last trumpet had 
 sounded in his ear, and, bestowing one anxious 
 and hurried glance around him, he arose and fol- 
 lowed in the simple train, with the mien of a sol- 
 dier, but bearing the full burden of a parent’s 
 suffering. His friends pressed around him with 
 a sorrow that was too strong to be termed sym- 
 pathy — even the young Frenchman joining in the 
 procession, with the air of a man who was sensi- 
 bly touched at the early and melancholy fate of 
 one so lovely. But when the last and humblest 
 female of the tribe had joined in the wild, and yet 
 ordered array, the men of the Lenape contracted 
 their circle, and formed again around the person 
 of Uncas, as silent, as grave, and as motionless 
 as before. 
 
 The place which had been chosen for the 
 grave of Cora was a little knoll, where a clustei 
 of young and healthful pines had taken root 
 forming of themselves a melancholy and appro 
 priate shade over the spot. On reaching it the 
 girls deposited their burden, and continued fot 
 many minutes waiting, with characteristic pa- 
 
L 72 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 tience and native timidity, for some evidence that 
 they whose feelings were most concerned were 
 content with the arrangement. At length the 
 scout, who alone understood their habits, said, in 
 their own language : 
 
 “My daughters have done well; the white 
 men thank them.” 
 
 Satisfied with this testimony in their favor, the 
 girls proceeded to deposit the body in a shell, in- 
 geniously and not inelegantly fabricated of the 
 bark of the birch ; after which they lowered it 
 into its dark and final abode. The ceremony of 
 covering the remains, and concealing the marks 
 of the fresh earth, by leaves and other natural and 
 customary objects, was conducted with the same 
 simple and silent forms. But when the labors of 
 the kind beings who had performed these sad and 
 friendly offices were so far completed, they hesi- 
 tated, in a way to show that they knew not how 
 much further they might proceed. It was in this 
 stage of the rites that the scout again addressed 
 them : 
 
 “My young women have done enough,” he 
 said ; “ the spirit of a pale-face has no need of 
 food or raiment — their gifts being according to 
 the heaven of their color. I see,” he added, 
 glancing an eye at David, who was preparing his 
 book in a manner that indicated an intention 
 to lead the way in sacred song, “that one, who 
 better knows the Christian fashions, is about to 
 speak.” 
 
 The females stood modestly aside, and, from 
 having been the principal actors in the scene, 
 they now became the meek and attentive ob- 
 servers of that which followed. During the time 
 David was occupied in pouring out the pious 
 feelings of his spirit in this manner, not a sign 
 of surprise, nor a look of impatience, escaped 
 them. They listened like those who knew the 
 meaning of the strange words, and appeared as 
 if they felt the mingled emotions of sorrow, hope, 
 and resignation, they were intended to convey. 
 
 Excited by the scene he had just witnessed, 
 and, perhaps, influenced by his own secret emo- 
 tions, the master of song exceeded his usual ef- 
 forts. His full, rich voice was not found to suffer 
 by a comparison with the soft tones of the girls ; 
 and his more modulated strains possessed, at 
 least for the ears of, those to whom they were 
 peculiarly addressed, the additional power of in- 
 telligence, He ended the anthem, as he had 
 commenced it, in the midst of a grave and solemn 
 stillness. 
 
 When, however, the closing cadence had fall- 
 en on the ears of his auditors, the secret, timor- 
 ous glances of the eyes and the general and yet 
 
 subdued movement of the assemblage, betrayed 
 that something was expected from the father of 
 the deceased. Munro seemed sensible that the 
 time was come for him to exert what is, perhaps, 
 the greatest effort of which human nature is ca- 
 pable. He bared his gray locks, and looked 
 around the timid and quiet throng by which he 
 was encircled with a firm and collected counte- 
 nance. Then motioning with his hand for the 
 scout to listen, he said : 
 
 “ Say to these kind and gentle females, that a 
 heart-broken and failing man returns them his 
 thanks. Tell them, that the Being we all wor- 
 ship, under different names, will be mindful of 
 their charity ; and that the time shall not be dis- 
 tant when we may assemble around his throne 
 without distinction of sex, or rank, or color.” 
 
 The scout listened to the tremulous voice in 
 which the veteran delivered these words, and 
 shook his head slowly when they were ended, as 
 one who doubted their efficacy. 
 
 “ To tell them this,” he said, “ would be to 
 tell them that the snows come not in the winter, 
 or that the sun shines fiercest when the trees are 
 stripped of their leaves.” 
 
 Then, turning to the women, he made such a 
 communication of the other’s gratitude as he 
 deemed most suited to the capacities of his listen- 
 ers. The head of Munro had already sunk upon 
 his chest, and he was again fast relapsing into 
 melancholy, when the young Frenchman before 
 named ventured to touch him lightly on the el- 
 bow. As soon as he had gained the attention of 
 the mourning old man, he pointed toward a group 
 of young Indians, who approached with a light 
 but closely-covered litter, and then pointed up- 
 ward toward the sun. 
 
 “I understand you, sir,” returned Munro, 
 with a voice of forced firmness ; “ I understand 
 you. It is the will of Heaven, and I submit. 
 Cora, my child ! if the prayers of a heart-broken 
 father could avail thee now, how blessed shouldst 
 thou be ! — Come, gentlemen,” he added, looking 
 about him with an air of lofty composure, though 
 the anguish that quivered in his faded counte- 
 nance was far too powerful to be concealed, “ our 
 duty here is ended ; let us depart.” 
 
 Heyward gladly obeyed a summons that took 
 them from a spot where, each instant, he felt his 
 self-control was about to desert him. While his 
 companions were mounting, however, he found 
 time to press the hand of the scout, and to re- 
 peat the terms of an engagement they had made, 
 to meet again within the posts of the British 
 army. Then, gladly throwing himself into the 
 saddle, he sourred his charger to the side of the 
 
SCENE AT UNCAS’S GRAVE. 
 
 173 
 
 litter, whence low and stifled sobs alone an- 
 nounced the presence of Alice. In this manner, 
 the head of Munro again dropping on his bosom, 
 with Heyward and David following in sorrowing 
 silence, and attended by the aide of Montcalm 
 with his guard, all the white men, with the ex- 
 ception of Hawk-eye, passed from before the eyes 
 of the Delawares, and were soon buried in the 
 vast forests of that region. 
 
 But the tie which, through their common 
 calamity, had united the feelings of these simple 
 dwellers in the woods with the strangers who 
 had thus transiently visited them, was not so 
 easily broken. Years passed away before the 
 traditionary tale of the white maiden, and of the 
 young warrior of the Mohicans, ceased to beguile 
 the long nights and tedious marches, or to ani- 
 mate their youthful and brave with a desire for 
 vengeance. Neither were the secondary actors 
 in these momentous incidents forgotten. Through 
 the medium of the scout, who served for years 
 afterward as a link between them and civilized 
 life, they learned, in answer to their inquiries, 
 that the “ Gray Head ” was speedily gathered to 
 his fathers — borne down, as was erroneously 
 believed, by his military misfortunes ; and that 
 the “ Open Hand ” had conveyed his surviving 
 daughter far into the settlements of the “ pale- 
 faces,” where her tears had at last ceased to 
 flow, and had been succeeded by the bright 
 smiles which were better suited to her joyous 
 nature. 
 
 But these were events of a time later than 
 that which concerns our tale. Deserted by all 
 of his color, Hawk-eye returned to the spot where 
 his own sympathies led him, with a force that no 
 ideal bond of union could bestow. He was just 
 in time to catch a parting look of the features of 
 Uncas, whom the Delawares were already enclos- 
 ing in his last vestments of skins. They paused 
 to permit the longing and lingering gaze of the 
 sturdy woodsman, and, when it was ended, the 
 body was enveloped, never to be unclosed again. 
 Then came a procession like the other, and the 
 whole nation was collected about the temporary 
 grave of the chief — temporary, because it was 
 proper that, at some future day, his bones should 
 rest among those of his own people. 
 
 The movement, like the feeling, had been 
 simultaneous and general. The same grave ex- 
 pression of grief, the same rigid silence, and the 
 same deference to the principal mourner, were 
 observed around the place of interment as have 
 been already described. The body was deposited 
 in an attitude of repose, facing the rising sun, 
 with the implements of war and of the chase at 
 
 hand, in readiness for the final journey. An 
 opening was left in the shell, by which it was 
 protected from the soil, for the spirit to communi- 
 cate with its earthly tenement, when necessary ; 
 and the whole was concealed from the instinct, 
 and protected from the ravages of the beasts of 
 prey, with an ingenuity peculiar to the natives. 
 The manual rites then ceased, and all present re 
 verted to the more spiritual part of the ceremo- 
 nies. 
 
 Chingachgook became once more the object 
 of the common attention. He had not yet spoken, 
 and something consolatory and instructive was ex- 
 pected from so renowned a chief on an occasion 
 of such interest. Conscious of the wishes of the 
 people, the stern and self-restrained warrior raised 
 his face, which had latterly been buried in his 
 robe, and looked about him with a steady eye. 
 His firmly-compressed and expressive lips then 
 severed, and for the first time during the long 
 ceremonies his voice was distinctly audible. 
 
 “ Why do my brothers mourn ? ” he said, re- 
 garding the dark race of dejected warriors by 
 whom he was environed ; “ why do my daughters 
 weep ? that a young man has gone to the happy 
 hunting-grounds ; that a chief has filled his time 
 with honor ? He was good ; he was dutiful ; he 
 was brave. Who can deny it ? The Manitto had 
 need of such a warrior, and he has called him 
 away. As for me, the son and the father of Un- 
 cas, I am a blazed pine, in a clearing of the pale- 
 faces. My race has gone from the shores of the 
 salt lake, and the hills of the Delawares. But 
 who can say that the serpent of his tribe has for- 
 gotten his wisdom ? Iam alone — ” 
 
 “No, no,” cried Hawk-eye, who had been 
 gazing with a yearning look at the rigid features 
 of his friend, with something like his own self- 
 command, but whose philosophy could endure no 
 longer ; “no, sagamore, not alone. The gifts of 
 our colors may be different, but God has so placed 
 us as to journey in the same path. I have no 
 kin, and I may also say, like you, no people. He 
 was your son, and a red-skin by nature ; and it 
 may be that your blood was nearer — but if ever 
 I forget the lad who has so often fou’t at my 
 side in war, and slept at my side in peace, 
 may He who made us all, whatever may be 
 our color or our gifts, forget me ! The boy has 
 left us for a time ; but, sagamore, you are not 
 alone.” 
 
 Chingachgook grasped the hand that, in the 
 warmth of feeling, the scout had stretched across 
 the fresh earth, and in that attitude of friendship 
 these two sturdy and intrepid woodsmen bowed 
 their heads together, while scalding tears fell to 
 
174 
 
 THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS. 
 
 their feet, watering the grave of Uncas like drops 
 of falling rain. 
 
 In the midst of the awful stillness with which 
 such a burst of feeling, coming, as it did, from 
 the two most renowned warriors of that region 
 was received, Tamenund lifted his voice to dis- 
 perse the multitude. 
 
 “ It is enough,” he said, ‘ Go, children of 
 
 the Lenape, the anger of the Manitto is not done. 
 Why should Tamenund stay ? The pale-faces are 
 masters of the earth, and the time of the red men 
 has not yet come again. My day has been too 
 long. In the morning I saw the sons of Unamia 
 happy and strong ; and yet, before the night haa 
 come, have I lived to see the last warrior of the 
 wise race of the Mohicans.” 
 
 T a E END. 
 
THE PATHFINDER 
 
 The room contained several barrels, and behind two of these Mabel crouched.” 
 
 P- I S3* 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
 
“ All that Pathfinder could suffer Cap to do was to roll a barrel filled with watei to the 
 
 hole immediately over the snot, in readiness to be used at the proper instant.” 
 
 The Pathfinder, p- H8. 
 
THE PATHFINDER; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE INLAND SEA. 
 
 T5T 
 
 J. FENIMOKE OOOPEE, 
 
 * Here the heart 
 
 May give a useful lesson to the head, 
 
 And Learning wiser grow without his books.” 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS BY F. 0. C. DARLET. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, and 5 BOND STREET. 
 
 188 5 . 
 
 27 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 
 D. APPLETON & CO., 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Following the order of events, this book should he the third in the Series of the 
 Leather-Stocking Tales. In “ The Deerslayer,” Natty Bumppo, under the sobriquet which 
 form 9 the title of that work, is represented as a youth, just commencing his forest 
 career as a warrior ; having, for several years, been a hunter so celebrated as already 
 to have gained the honorable appellation he then bore. In “ The Last of the Mohicans ” 
 he appears as Hawkeye, and is present at the death of young Uncas ; while in this tale 
 he reappears in the same war of ’56, in company with his Mohican friend, still in the 
 vigor of manhood, and young enough to feel that master-passion to which all conditions 
 of men, all tempers, and, we might almost say, all ages, submit, under circumstances 
 that are incited to call it into existence. 
 
 “The Pathfinder” did not originally appear for several years after the publication 
 of “ The Prairie,” the work in which the leading character of both had closed his career 
 by death. It was, perhaps, a too hazardous experiment to recall to life, in this manner, 
 and after so long an interval, a character that was somewhat a favorite with the reading 
 world, and which had been regularly consigned to his grave, like any living man. It is 
 probably owing to this severe ordeal that the work, like its successor, “The Deer- 
 slayer,” has been so little noticed; scarce one in ten of those who know all about the 
 three earliest books of the series having even a knowledge of the existence of the last at 
 all. That this caprice in taste and favor is in no way dependent on merit, the writer 
 feels certain; for, though the world will ever maintain that an author is always the 
 worst judge of his own productions, one who has written much, and regards all his 
 literary progeny with more or less of a paternal eye, must have a reasonably accurate 
 knowledge of what he has been about the greater part of his life. Such a man may 
 form too high an estimate of his relative merits, as relates to others; but it is not easy to 
 see why he should fall into this error, more than another, as relates to himself. His gen- 
 eral standard may be raised too high by means of self-love ; but, unless he be disposed 
 to maintain the equal perfection of what he has done, as probably no man was ever yet 
 fool enough to do, he may very well have shrewd conjectures as to the comparative 
 merits and defects of his own productions. 
 
 This work, on its appearance, was rudely and maliciously assailed by certain indi* 
 viduals out of pure personal malignancy. It is scarcely worth the author’s while, noi 
 would it have any interest for the reader, to expose the motives and frauds of these indi 
 viduals, who have pretty effectually vindicated the writer by their own subsequent con 
 duct. But even the falsest of men pay so much homage to truth, as to strive to seem 
 its votaries. In attacking “ The Pathfinder,” the persons alluded to pointed out faults 
 that the author, for the first time, has now ascertained to be real ; and much to his sur 
 prise, as of most of them he is entirely innocent. They are purely errors of the press, 
 unless, indeed, the writer can justly be accused of having been a careless proof-reader. 
 A single instance of the mistakes he means may be given in explanation of the manner 
 in which the book was originally got up. 
 
 The heroine of this tale was at first called “Agnes.” In the fifth or sixth chapter 
 this name was changed to “Mabel,” and the manuscript was altered accordingly. 
 Owing to inadvertency, however, the original appellation stood in several places, and 
 
4 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 the principal female character of the hook, until now, has had the advantage of going 
 by two names! Many other typographical errors exist in the earlier editions, most of 
 which, it is believed, are corrected in this. 
 
 There are a few discrepancies in the facts of this work, as connected with the facts 
 of the different books of the series. They are not material, and it was thought fairer to 
 let them stand as proof of the manner in which the books were originally written, than 
 to make any changes in the text. 
 
 In youth, when belonging to the navy, the writer of this book served for some time 
 on the great Western lakes. He was, indeed, one of those who first carried the cockade 
 of the republic on those inland seas. This was pretty early in the present century, when 
 the navigation was still confined to the employment of a few ships and schooners. Since 
 that day, light may have said to have broken into the wilderness, and the rays of the 
 gun have penetrated to tens of thousands of beautiful valleys and plains, that then lay in 
 “grateful shade.” Towns have been built along the whole of the extended line of 
 coasts, and the traveller now stops at many a place of ten or fifteen, and at one of even 
 .fifty thousand inhabitants, where a few huts then marked the natural sites of future 
 marts. In a word, though the scenes of this book are believed to have once been as 
 nearly accurate as is required by the laws which govern fiction, they are so no longer. 
 Oswego is a large and thriving town; Toronto and Kingston, on the other side of the 
 lake, compete with it; while Buffalo, Detroit, Cleveland, Milwaukee, and Chicago, on 
 the upper lakes, to say nothing of a hundred places of lesser note, are fast advancing 
 to the level of commercial places of great local importance. In these changes, the en- 
 ergy of youth and abundance is quite as much apparent as any thing else ; and it is 
 ardently to be hoped that the fruits of the gifts of a most bountiful Providence may not 
 be mistaken for any peculiar qualities in those who have been their beneficiaries. A 
 just appreciation of the first of these facts will render us grateful and meek ; while the 
 vainglorious, who are so apt to ascribe all to themselves, will be certain to live long 
 enough to ascertain the magnitude of their error. That great results are intended to be 
 produced by means of these wonderful changes, we firmly believe; but that they will 
 prove to be the precise results now so generally anticipated, in consulting the experience 
 of the past, and taking the nature of man into the account, the reflecting and intelligent 
 may be permitted to doubt. 
 
 It may strike the novice as an anachronism, to place vessels on Ontario in the mid- 
 dle of the eighteenth century, but, in this particular, facts willfully bear out all the 
 license of the fiction. Although the precise vessels mentioned in these pages may never 
 have existed on that water, or anywhere else, others so nearly resembling them as to 
 form a sufficient authority for their introduction into a work of fiction, are known to 
 have navigated that inland sea, even at a period much earlier than the one just men- 
 tioned. It is a fact not generally remembered, however well known it may be, that 
 there are isolated spots along the line of the great lakes, that date, as settlements, as far 
 back as many of the oldest American towns, and which were the seats of a species of 
 civilization long before the greater portion of even the original States was rescued from 
 the wilderness. 
 
 Ontario, in our own times, has been the scene of important naval evolutions. 
 Fleets have manoeuvred on those waters, which, half a century since, were desert 
 wastes; and the day is not distant, when the whole of that vast range of lakes will be- 
 come the seat of empire, and fraught with all the interests of human society. A passing 
 glimpse, even though it be in a work of fiction, of what that vast region so lately was, 
 may help to make up the sum of knowledge by which alone a just appreciation can be 
 formed of the wonderful means by which Providence is clearing the way for the advance- 
 ment of civilization across tho whole American continent. 
 
THE PATHFINDER 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 “The turf shall be my fragrant shrine, 
 
 My temple, Lord I that arch of thine ; 
 
 My censer’s breath the mountain airs, 
 
 And silent thoughts my only prayers. ” 
 
 Moore. 
 
 The sublimity connected with vastness is fa- 
 miliar to every eye. The most abstruse, the most 
 far-reaching, perhaps the most chastened of the 
 poet’s thoughts, crowd on the imagination as he 
 gazes into the depths of the illimitable void. The 
 expanse of the ocean is seldom seen by the novice 
 with indifference ; and the mind, even in the ob- 
 scurity of night, finds a parallel to that grandeur 
 which seems inseparable from images that the 
 senses cannot compass. With feelings akin to 
 this admiration and awe — the offspring of sub- 
 limity — were the different characters with which 
 the action of this tale must open, gazing on the 
 scene before them. Four persons in all — two of 
 each sex — they had managed to ascend a pile of 
 trees, that hud been uptorn by a tempest, to catch 
 a view of the objects that surrounded them. It 
 is still the practice of the country to call these 
 spots windrows. By letting in the light of heav- 
 en upon the dark and damp recesses of the wood, 
 they form a sort of oases in the solemn obscurity 
 of the virgin forests of America. The particular 
 windrow of which we are writing, lay on the 
 brow of a gentle acclivity, and it opened the way 
 for an extensive view to those who might occupy 
 its upper margin, a rare occurrence to the travel- 
 ler in the woods. As usual, the spot was small, 
 but owing to the circumstances of its lying on the 
 low acclivity mentioned, and that of the opening’s 
 extending downward, it offered more than com- 
 mon advantages to the eye. Philosophy has not 
 yet determined the nature of the power that so 
 often lays desolate spots of this description : some 
 
 ascribing it to the whirlwinds that produce wtv» 
 ter-spouts on the ocean ; while others again im- 
 pute it to sudden and violent passages of streams 
 of the electric fluid ; but the effects in the woods 
 are familiar to all. On the upper margin of the 
 opening to which there is allusion, the viewless 
 influence had piled tree on tree, in such a manner 
 as had not only enabled the two males of the par- 
 ty to ascend to an elevation of some thirty feet 
 above the level of the earth, but, with a little 
 care and encouragement, to induce their more 
 timid companions to accompany them. The vast 
 trunks that had been broken and driven by the 
 force of the gust, lay blended like jack-straws ; 
 while their branches, still exhaling the fragrance 
 of wilted leaves, were interlaced in a manner to 
 afford sufficient support to the hands. One tree 
 had been completely uprooted ; and its lower end 
 filled with earth, had been cast uppermost, in a 
 way to supply a sort of staging for the four ad- 
 venturers, when they had gained the desired dis- 
 tance from the ground. 
 
 The reader is to anticipate none of the appli- 
 ances of people of condition in the description of 
 the personal appearances of the group in ques- 
 tion. They were all wayfarers in the wilderness ; 
 and had they not been, neither their previous 
 habits nor their actual social positions would have 
 accustomed them to many of the luxuries of rank. 
 Two of the party, indeed, a male and a female, 
 belonged to the native owners of the soil, being 
 Indians of the well-known tribe of the Tuscaro- 
 ras ; while their companions were a man, who 
 bore about him the peculiarities of one who had 
 passed his days on the ocean, and this, too, in e 
 station little, if any, above that of a common mar 
 iner ; while his female associate was a maiden of 
 a class in no great degree superior to his own ; 
 though her youth, sweetness of countenance, and 
 a modest but spirited mien, lent that character of 
 
6 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 intellect and refinement which adds so much to 
 the charm of beauty in the sex. On the present 
 occasion, her full blue eye reflected the feeling of 
 sublimity that the scene excited, and her pleasant 
 face was beaming with the pensive expression 
 with which all deep emotions, even though they 
 bring the most grateful pleasure, shadow the 
 countenances of the ingenuous apd thoughtful. 
 
 And, truly, the scene was of a nature deeply 
 to impress the imagination of the beholder. Tow- 
 ard the west, in which direction the faces of the 
 party were turned, and in which alone could much 
 be seen, the eye ranged over an ocean of leaves, 
 glorious and rich in the varied but lively verdure 
 of a generous vegetation, and shaded by the lux- 
 uriant tints that belong to the forty-second de- 
 gree of latitude. The elm, with its graceful and 
 weeping top, the rich varieties of the maple, most 
 of the noble oaks of the American forest, with the 
 broad-leafed linden, known in the parlance of the 
 country as the basswood, mingled their upper- 
 most branches, forming one broad and seemingly 
 interminable carpet of foliage, that stretched away 
 toward the setting sun, until it bounded the hori- 
 zon, by blending with the clouds, as the waves 
 and the sky meet at the base of the vault of heav- 
 en. Here and there, by some accident of the 
 tempests, or by a caprice of Nature, a trifling open- 
 ing among these giant members of the forest per- 
 mitted an inferior tree to struggle upward toward 
 the light, and to lift its modest head nearly to a 
 level with the surrounding surface of verdure. 
 Of this class were the birch, a tree of some ac- 
 count in regions less favored, the quivering aspen, 
 various generous nut-woods, and divers others 
 that resembled the ignoble and vulgar, thrown by 
 circumstances into the presence of the stately and 
 great. Here and there, too, the tall, straight trunk 
 of the pine pierced the vast field, rising high 
 above it, like some grand monument reared by 
 art on a plain of leaves. 
 
 It was the vastness of the view, the nearly 
 unbroken surface of verdure, that contained the 
 principle of grandeur. The beauty was to be 
 traced in the delicate tints, relieved by gradations 
 of light and shadow ; while the solemn repose in- 
 duced the feeling allied to awe. 
 
 “ Uncle,” said the wondering but pleased girl, 
 addressing her male companion, whose arm she 
 rather touched than leaned on, to steady her own 
 light but firm footing, “ this is like a view of the 
 ocean you so much love ! ” 
 
 “ So much for ignorance, and a girl’s fancy, 
 Magnet,” a term of affection the sailor often used 
 in allusion to his niece’s personal attractions, “ no 
 one but a child would think of likening this hand- 
 
 ful of leaves to a look at the real Atlantic. You 
 might seize all these tree-tops to Neptune’s jack- 
 et, and they would make no more than a nosegay 
 for his bosom.” 
 
 “More fanciful than true, I think, Uncle. 
 Look thither ; it must be miles on miles, and yet 
 we see nothing but leaves ! what more could one 
 behold, if looking at the ocean ? ” 
 
 “ More ! ” returned the uncle, giving an im- 
 patient gesture with the elbow the other touched, 
 for his arms were crossed, and the hands were 
 thrust into the bosom of a vest of red cloth, a 
 fashion of the times, “ more, Magnet ? say, rather 
 what less ? Where are your combing seas, your 
 blue water, your rollers, your breakers, your 
 whales, or your water-spouts, and your endless 
 motion in this bit of a forest, child ? ” 
 
 “ And where are your tree-tops, your solemn 
 silence, your fragrant leaves, and your beautiful 
 green, uncle, on the ocean ? ” 
 
 “ Tut, Magnet ! if you understood the thing, 
 you would know that green water is a sailor’s 
 bane. He scarcely relishes a greenhorn less.” 
 
 “ But green trees are a different thing. Hist ! 
 that sound is the air breathing among the leaves.” 
 
 “You should hear a nor’ wester breathe, girl, 
 if you fancy wind aloft. Now, where are your 
 gales, and hurricanes, and trades, and levanters, 
 and such-like incidents, in this bit of a forest, and 
 what fishes have you swimming beneath yonder 
 tame surface ? ” 
 
 “ That there have been tempests here, these 
 signs around us plainly show ; and beasts, if not 
 fishes, are beneath those leaves.” 
 
 “I do not know that,” returned <ne uncle, 
 with a sailor’s dogmatism. “ They told us many 
 stories at Albany, of the wild animals we should 
 fall in with, and yet we have seen nothing to 
 frighten a seal. I doubt if any of your inland 
 animals will compare with a low-latitude shark ! ” 
 “ See ! ” exclaimed the niece, who was more 
 occupied with the sublimity and beauty of the 
 “ boundless wood ” than with her uncle’s argu- 
 ments, “ yonder is a smoke curling over the tops 
 of the trees — can it come from a house ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, ay ; there is a look of humanity in that 
 smoke,” returned the old seaman, “ which is worth 
 a thousand trees; I must show it to Arrowhead, 
 who may be running past a port without knowing 
 it. It is probable there is a camboose where 
 there is a smoke.” 
 
 As he concluded, the uncle drew a hand from 
 his bosom, touched the male Indian, who was 
 standing near him, lightly on the shoulder, and 
 pointed out a thin line of vapor that was stealing 
 slowly out of the wilderness of leaves, at a dis- 
 
CHARLES CAP AND HIS NIECE. 
 
 7 
 
 tance of about a mile, and was diffusing itself, in 
 almost imperceptible threads of humidity, in the 
 quivering atmosphere. The Tuscarora was one 
 of those noble-looking warriors that were oftener 
 met with among the aborigines of this continent 
 a century since, than to-day ; and, while he had 
 mingled sufficiently with the colonists to be fa- 
 miliar with their habits, and even with their lan- 
 guage, he had lost little, if any, of the wild gran- 
 deur and simple dignity of a chief. Between 
 him and the old seaman the intercourse had been 
 friendly, but distant, for the Indian had been too 
 much accustomed to mingle with the officers of 
 the different military posts he had frequented, 
 not to understand that his present companion was 
 only a subordinate. So imposing, indeed, had 
 been the quiet superiority of the Tuscarora’s re- 
 serve, that Charles Cap, for so was the seaman 
 named, in his most dogmatical or facetious mo- 
 ments, had not ventured on familiarity, in an in- 
 tercourse that had now lasted more than a week. 
 The sight of the curling smoke, however, had 
 struck the latter like the sudden appearance of a 
 sail at sea, and, for the first time since they met, 
 he ventured to touch the warrior, as has been re- 
 lated. 
 
 The quick eye of the Tuscarora instantly 
 caught a sight of the smoke, and for quite a min- 
 ute he stood, slightly raised on tiptoe, with dis- 
 tended nostrils, like the buck that scents a taint 
 in the air, and a gaze as riveted as that of a trained 
 pointer, while he waits his master’s aim. Then, 
 falling back on his feet, a low exclamation, in the 
 soft tones that form so singular a contrast to its 
 harsher cries in the Indian warrior’s voice, was 
 barely audible ; otherwise, he was undisturbed. 
 His countenance was calm, and his quick, dark 
 eagle-eye mcved over the leafy panorama, as if to 
 take in at a glance every circumstance that might 
 enlighten his mind. That the long journey they 
 had attempted to make through a broad belt of 
 wilderness, was necessarily attended with danger, 
 both uncle and niece well knew ; though neither 
 could at once determine whether the sign that 
 others were in their vicinity, was the harbinger 
 of good or evil. 
 
 “ There must be Oneidas or Tuscaroras near 
 us, Arrowhead,” said Cap, addressing his Indian 
 companion by his conventional English name ; 
 “ will it not be well to join company with them, 
 and get a comfortable berth for the night in 
 their wigwam? ” 
 
 “No wigwam there,” Arrowhead answered, 
 H Us unmoved manner— 4 ' too much tree.” 
 
 “ But Indians must be there ; perhaps some 
 old messmates of your own, Master Arrowhead.” 
 
 “ No Tuscarora — no Oneida — no Mohawk— 
 pale-face fire.” 
 
 “ The devil it is ! — Well, Magnet, this surpasses 
 a seaman’s philosophy — we old sea-dogs can tell 
 a soldier’s from a sailor’s quid, or a lubber’s nest 
 from a mate’s hammock ; but I do not think the 
 oldest admiral in his majesty’s fleet can tell a 
 king’s smoke from a collier’s ! ” 
 
 The idea that human beings were in their vi* 
 cinity in that ocean of wilderness, had deepened 
 the flush on the blooming cheek and brightened 
 the eye of the fair creature at his side, but she 
 soon turned with a look of surprise to her rela- 
 tive, and said, hesitatingly, for both had often ad* 
 mired the Tuscarora’s knowledge, or we might 
 almost say, instinct : 
 
 ' “ A pale-face’s fire ! Surely, uncle, he cannot 
 know that l ” 
 
 “ Ten days since, child, I would have sworn 
 to it ; but, now, I hardly know what to believe. — 
 May I take the liberty of asking, Arrowhead, why 
 you fancy that smoke, now, a pale-face’s smoke, 
 and not a red-skin’s ? ” 
 
 “Wet wood,” returned the warrior, with the 
 calmness with which the pedagogue might point 
 out an arithmetical demonstration to his puzzled 
 pupil. “ Much wet — much smoke ; much water 
 —black smoke.” 
 
 “But, begging your pardon, Master Arrow- 
 head, the smoke is not black, nor is there much 
 of it. To my eye, now, it is as light and fanciful 
 a smoke as ever rose from a captain’s tea-kettle, 
 when nothing was left to make the fire but a few 
 chips from the dunnage.” 
 
 “ Too much water,” returned Arrowhead, 
 with a slight nod of the head ; “ Tuscarora too 
 cunning to make fire with water ; pale-face too 
 much book, and burn any thing ; much book, 
 little know.” 
 
 “ Well, that’s reasonable, I allow,” said Cap, 
 who was no devotee of learning ; “ he means that 
 as a hit at your reading, Magnet, for the chief has 
 sensible notions of things in his own way. — How 
 far, now, Arrowhead, do you make us by your 
 calculation, from the bit of a pond that you call 
 the Great Lake, and toward which we have been 
 so many days shaping our course ? ” 
 
 The Tuscarora looked at the seaman with 
 quiet superiority, as he answered : 
 
 “ Ontario, like heaven ; one sun, and the 
 great traveller will know it.” 
 
 “Well, I have been a great traveller, I can- 
 not deny, but of all my v’y’ges this has been the 
 longest, the least profitable, and the farthest in- 
 land. If this body of fresh water is so nigh, 
 Arrowhead, and at the same time so large, one 
 
8 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 might think a pair of good eyes would find it 
 out, for, apparently, every thing within thirty 
 miles is to be seen from this lookout.” 
 
 “ Look,” said Arrowhead, stretching an arm 
 before him with quiet grace — “ Ontario 1 ” 
 
 “ Uncle, you are accustomed to cry ‘ Land ho ! ’ 
 but not ‘ Water ho ! ’ and you do not see it,” cried 
 the niece, laughing as girls will laugh at their own 
 idle conceits. 
 
 “ How now, Magnet ! dost suppose that I 
 shouldn’t know my native element, if it were in 
 sight?” 
 
 “ But Ontario is not your native element, dear 
 uncle, for you come from the salt water, while 
 this is fresh.” 
 
 “That might make some difference to your 
 young mariner, but none in the world to the old 
 one. I should know water, child, were I to see 
 it in China.” 
 
 “ Ontario,” repeated the Arrowhead, with em- 
 phasis, again stretching his hand toward the 
 northwest. 
 
 Cap looked at the Tuscarora, for the first 
 time since their acquaintance, with something 
 like an air of contempt, though he did not fail to 
 follow the direction of the chiefs eye and arm, 
 both of which were pointing, to all appearance, 
 toward a vacant spot in the heavens, a short dis- 
 tance above the plain of leaves. 
 
 “ Ay, ay, this is much as I expected, when I 
 left the coast to come in search of a fresh-water 
 pond,” resumed Cap, shrugging his shoulders 
 like one whose mind was made up, and who 
 thought no more need be said. “ Ontario may 
 bo there, or, for that matter, it may be in my 
 pocket. Well, I suppose there will be room 
 enough, when we reach it, to work our canoe. 
 But, Arrowhead, if there be pale-faces in our 
 neighborhood, I confess I should like to get with- 
 in hail of them.” 
 
 The Tuscarora now gave a quiet inclination of 
 his head, and the whole party descended from the 
 roots of the uptorn tree, in silence. When they 
 had reached the ground, Arrowhead intimated 
 his intention to go toward the fire, and ascertain 
 who had lighted it, while he advised his wife and 
 the two others to proceed to a canoe, which they 
 had left in the adjacent stream, and await his re- 
 turn. 
 
 “ Why, chief, this might do on soundings, and 
 in an offing where one knew the channel,” returned 
 old Cap, “ but, in an unknown region like this, I 
 think it unsafe to trust the pilot alone too far 
 from the ship ; so, with your leave, we will not 
 part company.” 
 
 “ What my brother want ? ” asked the In- 
 
 dian, gravely, though without taking offence at a 
 distrust that was sufficiently plain. 
 
 “Your company, Master Arrowhead, and no 
 more. I will go with you, and speak these stran* 
 gers.” 
 
 The Tuscarora assented without difficulty, 
 and again he directed his patient and submissive 
 little wife, who seldom turned her full, rich black 
 eye on him, but to express equally her respect, 
 her dread, and her love, to proceed to the boat. 
 But here Magnet raised a difficulty. Although 
 spirited, and of unusual energy under circum- 
 stances of trial, she was but woman, and the idea 
 of being entirely deserted by her two male pro- 
 tectors in the midst of a wilderness, that her 
 senses had just told her was seemingly illimitable, 
 became so keenly painful that she expressed a 
 wish to accompany her uncle. 
 
 “ The exercise will be a relief, dear sir, after 
 sitting so long in the canoe,” she added, as the 
 rich blood slowly returned to a cheek that had 
 paled in spite of her efforts to be calm, “ and 
 there may be females with the strangers.” 
 
 “ Come, then, child — it is but a cable’s length, 
 and we shall return an hour before the sun sets.’? 
 
 With this permission, the girl, whose real 
 name was Mabel Dunham, prepared to be of the 
 party, while the Dew-of-June, as the wife of 
 Arrowhead was called, passively went her way 
 toward the canoe, too much accustomed to obedi- 
 ence, solitude, and the gloom of the forest, to feel 
 apprehension. 
 
 The three who remained in the windrow, now 
 picked their way around its tangled maze and 
 gained the margin of the woods in the necessary 
 direction. A few glances of the eye sufficed for 
 Arrowhead, but old Cap deliberately set the 
 smoke by a pocket-compass before he trusted 
 himself within the shadows of the trees. 
 
 “ This steering by the nose, Magnet, may do 
 well enough for an Indian, but your thorough- 
 bred knows the virtue of the needle,” said the 
 uncle, as he trudged at the heels of the light- 
 stepping Tuscarora. “ America would never 
 have been discovered, take my word for it, if 
 Columbus had been nothing but nostrils. — Friend 
 Arrowhead, didst ever see a machine like this ? ” 
 
 The Indian turned, cast a glance at the com- 
 pass, which Cap held in a way to direct hi* 
 course, and gravely answered : 
 
 “ A pale-face eye. The Tuscarora see in his 
 head. The Salt-water” (for so the Indian styled 
 his companion) “ all eye now ; no tongue.” 
 
 “ He means, uncle, that we had needs be si- 
 lent; perhaps he distrusts the persons we are 
 about to meet.” 
 
ARROWHEAD, THE TUSCARORA CHIEF. 
 
 9 
 
 “Ay — ’tis an Indian’s fashion of going to 
 quarters. You perceive he has examined the 
 priming of his rifle, and it may be as well if I 
 look to that of my own pistols.” 
 
 Without betraying alarm at these prepara- 
 tions, to which she had become accustomed by 
 her long journey in the wilderness, Mabel followed 
 with a step as light and elastic as that of the In- 
 dian, keeping close in the rear of her compan- 
 ions. For the first half mile no other caution be- 
 yond a rigid silence was observed, but, as the 
 party drew nearer to the spot where the fire was 
 known to be, much greater care became neces- 
 sary. 
 
 The forest, as usual, had little to intercept 
 the view below the branches but the tall, straight 
 trunks of trees. Every thing belonging to vege- 
 tation had struggled toward the light, and be- 
 neath the leafy canopy one walked, as it might 
 be, through a vast natural vault that was upheld 
 by myriads of rustic columns. These columns, 
 or trees, however, often served to conceal the 
 adventurer, the hunter, or the foe ; and, as Arrow- 
 head swiftly approached the spot where his prac- 
 tised and unerring senses told him the strangers 
 ought to be, his footsteps gradually became 
 lighter, his eye more vigilant, and his person 
 was more carefully concealed. 
 
 “ See, Salt-water,” he said, exultingly, point- 
 ing at the same time through the vista of trees, 
 “ pale-face fire ! ” 
 
 “ By the Lord, the fellow is right ! '* muttered 
 Cap; “there they are, sure enough, and eating 
 their grub as quietly as if they were in the cabin 
 of a three-decker.” 
 
 “Arrowhead is but half right,” whispered 
 Mabel, “ for there are two Indians and only one 
 white man.” 
 
 “Pale-face,” said the Tuscarora, holding up 
 two fingers ; “ red man,” holding up one. 
 
 “ Well,” rejoined Cap, “ it is hard to say 
 which is right and which is wrong. One is en- 
 tirely white, and a fine, comely lad he is, with an 
 air of life and respectability about him ; one is a 
 red-skin as plain as paint and Nature can make 
 him ; but the third chap is half-rigged, being nei- 
 ther brig nor schooner.” 
 
 “ Pale - face,” repeated Arrowhead, again 
 raising two fingers — “ red man,” showing but 
 one. 
 
 “ He must be right, uncle, for his eye seems 
 never to fail. But it is now urgent to know 
 whether we meet as friends or foes. They may 
 be French.” 
 
 “ One hail will soon satisfy us on that head,” 
 returned Cap. “ Stand you behind this tree, 
 
 Magnet, lest the knaves take it into their heads 
 to fire a broadside without a parley, and I will 
 soon learn what colors they sail under.” 
 
 The uncle had placed his two hands to hia 
 mouth to form a trumpet, and was about to give 
 the promised hail, when a rapid movement from 
 Arrowhead defeated the intention by deranging 
 the instrument. 
 
 “Red man, Mohican,” said the Tuscarora — 
 “good; pale-face, Yengeese.” 
 
 “ These are heavenly tidings,” murmured Ma- 
 bel, who little relished the prospect of a deadly 
 fray in that remote wilderness. “ Let us ap- 
 proach at once, dear uncle, and proclaim ourselves 
 friends.” 
 
 “ Good,” said the Tuscarora, “ red man cool, 
 and know; pale -face hurried, and fire. Let 
 squaw go.” 
 
 “ What ! ” said Cap, in astonishment ; “ send 
 little Magnet ahead as a lookout, while two lub- 
 bers, like you and me, lie-to to see what sort 
 of a land-fall she will make ! If I do, I — ” 
 
 “ It is wisest, uncle,” interrupted the gener- 
 ous girl, “and I have no fear. No Christian, 
 seeing a woman approach alone, would fire upon 
 her, and my presence will be a pledge of peace. 
 Let me go forward, as Arrowhead wishes, and all 
 will be well. We are, as yet, unseen, and the 
 surprise of the strangers will not partake of 
 alarm.” 
 
 “Good,” returned Arrownead, who did not 
 conceal his approbation of Mabel’s spirit. 
 
 “ It has an unseaman-like look,” answered 
 Cap, “ but, being in the woods, no one will know 
 it. — If you think, Mabel — ” 
 
 “ Uncle, I know there is no cause to fear for 
 me ; and you are always nigh to protect me.” 
 
 “ Well, take one of the pistols, then — ” 
 
 “Nay, I had better rely on my youth and 
 feebleness,” said the girl, smiling, while her color 
 heightened under her feelings. “Among Chris- 
 tian men, a woman’s best guard is her claim to 
 their protection. I know nothing of arms, and 
 wish to live in ignorance of them.” 
 
 The uncle desisted : and, after receiving a 
 few cautious instructions from the Tuscarora, Ma- 
 bel rallied all her spirit, and advanced alone tow- 
 ard the group seated near the fire. Although 
 the heart of the girl beat quick, her step was 
 firm, and her movements, seemingly, were with 
 out reluctance. A death-like silence reigned in 
 the forest, for they, toward whom she ap- 
 proached, were too much occupied in appeasing 
 that great natural appetite, hunger, to avert their 
 lookSj for an instant, from the important busi- 
 ness in which they were all engaged. When Ma* 
 
10 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 bel, however, had got within a hundred feet of 
 the fire, she trod upon a dried stick, and the 
 trifling noise that was produced by her light foot- 
 step caused the Mohican, as Arrowhead had pro- 
 nounced the Indian to be, and his companion 
 whose character had been thought so equivocal, 
 to rise to their feet as quick as thought. Both 
 glanced at the rifles that leaned against a tree, 
 and then each stood, without stretching out an 
 arm, as his eyes fell on the form of the girl. The 
 Indian uttered a few words to his companion, 
 and resumed his seat and his meal as calmly as if 
 no interruption had occurred. On the contrary, 
 the white man left the fire, and came forward to 
 meet Mabel. 
 
 The latter saw, as the stranger approached, 
 that she was about to be addressed by one of her 
 own color, though his dress was so strange a mix- 
 ture of the habits of the two races that it re- 
 quired a near look to be certain of the fact. He 
 was of middle age, but there was an open hon- 
 esty, a total absence of guile, in his face, which 
 otherwise would not have been thought hand- 
 some, that at once assured Magnet she was in no 
 danger. Still she paused, in obedience to a law 
 of her habits if not of Nature, which rendered 
 her averse to the appearance of advancing too 
 freely to meet one of the other sex, under the cir- 
 cumstances in which she was placed. 
 
 “Fear nothing, young woman,” said the hunt- 
 er, for such his attire would indicate him to be, 
 “ you have met Christian men in the wilderness, 
 and such as know how to treat all kindly that are 
 disposed to peace and justice. I’m a man well 
 known in all these parts, and perhaps one of my 
 names may have reached your ears. By the 
 Frenchers, and the red-skins on the other side of 
 the Big Lakes, I am called la Longue Carabine • 
 by the Mohicans, a just-minded and upright tribe, 
 what is left of them, Hawkeye ; while the troops 
 and rangers along this side of the water call me 
 Pathfinder, inasmuch as I have never been known 
 to miss one end of the trail, when there was a 
 Mingo or a friend who stood in need of me, at the 
 other.” 
 
 This was not uttered boastfully, but with the 
 honest confidence of one who well knew that by 
 whatever name others might have heard of him, 
 he had no reason to blush at the reports. The 
 effect on Mabel was instantaneous. The moment 
 she heard the last sobriquet , she clasped her hands 
 eagerly and repeated the word — 
 
 “ Pathfinder!” 
 
 “ So they call me, young woman, and many a 
 great lord has got a title that he did not fcalf so 
 well merit; though, if truth be said, I rather pride 
 
 myself in finding my way where there is no path 
 than in finding it where there is. But the regular 
 troops be by no means particular, and half the 
 time they don’t know the difference atween a 
 trail and a path, though one is a matter for the 
 eye, while the other is little more than scent.” 
 
 “ Then you are the friend my father promised 
 to send to meet us ! ” 
 
 “ If you are Sergeant Dunham’s daughter, the 
 great Prophet of the Delawares never uttered a 
 plainer truth.” 
 
 “ I am Mabel, and yonder, hid by the trees, 
 are my uncle, whose name is Cap, and a Tusca- 
 rora, called Arrowhead. We did not hope to 
 meet you until we had nearly reached the shores 
 of the lake.” 
 
 “ I wish a juster-minded Indian had been your 
 guide,” said Pathfinder, “for I am no lover of 
 the Tuscaroras, who have travelled too far from 
 the graves of their fathers always to remember 
 the Great Spirit : and Arrowhead is an ambitious 
 chief. Is Dew-of- June with him ? ” 
 
 “ His wife accompanies us, and an humble and 
 mild creature she is.” 
 
 “Ay, and true-hearted; which is more than 
 any who know him will say of Arrowhead. Well, 
 we must take the fare that Providence bestow^, 
 while we follow the trail of life. I suppose worse 
 guides might have been found than the Tuscarora ; 
 though he has too much Mingo blood for one who 
 consorts altogether with the Delawares.” 
 
 “ It is then, perhaps, fortunate we have met,” 
 said Mabel. 
 
 “ It is not misfortinate at any rate, for I prom- 
 ised the sergeant I would see his child safe to the 
 garrison, though I died for it. We expected to 
 meet you before you reached the falls, where we 
 have left our own canoe ; while we thought it might 
 do no harm to come up a few miles, in order to 
 be of sarvice if wanted. It’s lucky we did, for I 
 doubt if Arrowhead be the man to shoot the cur- 
 rent.” 
 
 “ Here come my uncle and the Tuscarora, and 
 our parties can now join.” 
 
 As Mabel concluded, Cap and Arrowhead, 
 who saw that the conference was amicable, drew 
 nigh, and a few words sufficed to let them know 
 as much as the girl herself had learned from the 
 strangers. As soon as this was done, the party 
 proceeded toward the two who still remained neat 
 the fire. 
 
JASPER WESTERN. 
 
 11 
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 * Yea ! long as Nature’s humblest child 
 Hath kept her temple undefiled 
 By 6imple sacrifice, 
 
 Earth’s fairest scenes are all his own, 
 
 He is a monarch, and his throne 
 Is built amid the skies 1 ” 
 
 Wilson; 
 
 The Mohican continued to eat, though the sec- 
 end white man rose, and courteously took off his 
 tap to Mabel Dunham. He was young, healthful, 
 end manly in appearance ; and he wore a dress, 
 which, while it was less rigidly professional than 
 that of the uncle, also denoted one accustomed to 
 the water. In that age real seamen were a class 
 entirely apart from the rest of mankind; their 
 ideas, ordinary language, and attire, being as 
 strongly indicative of their calling, as the opin- 
 ions, speech, and dress of a Turk denote a Mus- 
 sulman. Although the Pathfinder was scarcely 
 in the prime of life, Mabel had met him with a 
 steadiness that may have been the consequence 
 of having braced her nerves for the interview ; 
 but, when her eyes encountered those of the 
 young man at the fire, they fell before the gaze 
 of admiration with which she saw, or fancied she 
 saw, he greeted her. Each, in truth, felt that 
 interest in the other, which similarity of age, con- 
 dition, mutual comeliness, and their novel situ- 
 ation, would be likely to inspire in the young and 
 ingenuous. 
 
 “ Here,” said Pathfinder, with an honest smile 
 bestowed on Mabel, “ are the friends your worthy 
 father has sent to meet you. This is a great 
 Delaware ; and one that has had honors as well 
 as troubles in his day. He has an Injin name fit 
 for a chief, but as the language is not always easy 
 for the inexperienced to pronounce, we nat’rally 
 turn it into English, and call him the Big Sar- 
 pent. You are not to suppose, however, that by 
 this name we wish to say that he is treacherous, 
 beyond what is lawful in a red-skin, but that 
 he is wise, and has the cunning that becomes 
 a warrior. — Arrowhead, there, knows what I 
 mean.” 
 
 While the Pathfinder was delivering this ad- 
 dress, the two Indians gazed on each other steadi- 
 ly, and the Tuscarora advanced and spoke to the 
 other in an apparently friendly manner. 
 
 “ I like to see this,” continued Pathfinder ; 
 
 4 ‘ the salutes of two red-skins in the woods, Mas- 
 ter Cap, are like the hailing of friendly vessels 
 on the ocean. But, speaking of water, it reminds 
 me of my young friend, Jasper Western, here, 
 who can claim to know something of these mat- 1 
 
 ters, seeing that he has passed his days on On- 
 tario.” 
 
 “I am glad to see you, friend,” said Cap, 
 giving the young fresh -water sailor a cordial 
 gripe ; “ though you must have something still 
 to learn, considering the school to which you 
 have been sent. This is my niece, Mabel— I call 
 her Magnet, for a reason she never dreams of, 
 though you may possibly have education enough 
 to guess at it, having some pretensions to under- 
 stand the compass, I suppose.” 
 
 “The reason is easily comprehended,” said 
 the young man, involuntarily fastening his keen 
 dark eye, at the same time, on the suffused face 
 of the girl ; “ and I feel sure that the sailor who 
 steers by your Magnet, will never make a bad 
 land-fall.” 
 
 “ Ha ! you do make use of some of the terms, 
 I find, and that with propriety and understand- 
 ing ; though, on the whole, I fear you have seen 
 more green than blue water.” 
 
 “ It is not surprising that we should get some 
 of the phrases that belong to the land, for we 
 are seldom out of sight of it twenty-four hours 
 at a time.” 
 
 “ More’s the pity, boy ; more’s the pity. A 
 very little land ought to go a great way with a 
 seafaring man. Now, if the truth were known. 
 Master Western, I suppose there is more or less 
 land all round your lake.” 
 
 “ And, uncle, is there not more or less land 
 all round the ocean ? ” said Magnet, quickly ; for 
 she dreaded a premature display of the old sea- 
 man’s peculiar dogmatism, not to say pedantry. 
 
 “ No, child, there is more or less ocean all 
 round the land ! that’s what I tell the people 
 ashore, youngster. They are living, as it might 
 be, in the midst of the sea, without knowing it ; 
 •by sufferance, as it were, the water being so 
 much the more powerful, and the largest. But 
 there is no end to conceit in this world, for a 
 fellow who never saw salt water often fancies he 
 knows more than one who has gone round the 
 Horn. No — no— this earth is pretty much an 
 island, and all that can be truly said not to be so, 
 is water.” 
 
 Young Western had a profound deference for 
 a mariner of the ocean, on which he had often 
 pined to sail ; but he had, also, a natural regard 
 for the broad sheet on which he had passed his 
 life, and which was not without its beauties in 
 his eyes. 
 
 “ What you say, sir,” he answered, modestly, 
 
 “ may be true, as to the Atlantic ; but we have 
 a respect for the land up here, on Ontario.” 
 
 “ That is because you are always land-locked*” 
 
12 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 returned Cap, laughing neartily. “But yonder 
 is the Pathfinder, as they call him, with some 
 smoking platters, inviting us to share in his 
 mess ; and I will confess that one gets no venison 
 at sea. Master Western, civility to girls, at your 
 time of life, comes as easy as taking in the slack 
 of the ensign halyards ; and if you will just keep 
 an eye to her kid and can, while I join the mess 
 of the Pathfinder and our Indian friends, I make 
 no doubt she will remember it.” 
 
 Master Cap uttered more than he was aware 
 of at the time. Jasper Western did look to the 
 wants of Mabel, and she long remembered the 
 kind, manly attention of the young sailor, at this 
 their first interview. He placed the end of a log 
 for a seat, obtained for her a delicious morsel of 
 the venison, gave her a draught of pure water 
 from the spring, and, as he sat near and opposite 
 to her, fast won his way to her esteem by his 
 gentle but frank manner of manifesting his care ; 
 homage that woman always wishes to receive, 
 but which is never so flattering, or so agreeable, 
 as when it comes from the young to those of 
 their own age ; from the manly to the gentle. 
 Like most of those who pass their time excluded 
 from the society of the softer sex, young Western 
 was earnest, sincere, and kind in his attentions, 
 which, though they wanted a conventional re- 
 finement that perhaps Mabel never missed, had 
 those winning qualities that prove very sufficient 
 as substitutes. Leaving these two inexperienced 
 and unsophisticated young people to become ac- 
 quainted through their feelings, rather than their 
 expressed thoughts, we will turn to the group, in 
 which the uncle, with a facility of taking care 
 of himself that never deserted him, had already 
 become a principal actor. 
 
 The party had taken their places around a 
 platter of venison-steaks, which served for the 
 common use, and the discourse naturally partook 
 of the characters of the different individuals that 
 composed it. The Indians were silent and in- 
 dustrious, the appetite of the aboriginal Ameri- 
 cans for venison being seemingly inappeasable ; 
 while the two white men were communicative 
 and discursive, each of the latter being garrulous 
 and opinionated in his way. But, as the dia- 
 logue will serve to put the reader in possession 
 Df certain facts that may render the succeed- 
 ing narrative more clear, it will be well to re- 
 cord it. 
 
 “There must be satisfaction in this life of 
 yours, no doubt, Mr. Pathfinder,” continued Cap, 
 when the hunger of the travellers was so far 
 appeased that they began to pick and choose 
 among the savory morsels ; “ it has some of the 
 
 chances and luck that we seamen like, and if ours 
 is all water, yours is all land.” 
 
 “Nay, we have water too, in our journeyings 
 and marches,” returned his white companion; 
 “ we border-men handle the paddle and the spear 
 almost as much as the rifle and the hunting-knife.” 
 
 “ Ay ; but do you handle the brace and the 
 bowline ; the wheel and the lead-line ; the reef- 
 point and the top-rope ? The paddle is a good 
 thing, out of doubt, in a canoe, but of what use 
 is it in the ship ? ” 
 
 “Nay, I respect all men in their callings, 
 and I can believe the things you mention have 
 their uses. One, who has lived, like myself, in 
 company with many tribes, understands differ 
 ences in usages. The paint of a Mingo is not the 
 paint of a Delaware ; and he who should expect 
 to see a warrior in the dress of a squaw, might 
 be disapp’inted. I’m not very old, but I have 
 lived in the woods, and have some acquaintance 
 with human natur’. I never believed much in 
 the larning of them that dwell in towns, for I 
 never yet met with one that had an eye for a 
 rifle or a trail.” 
 
 “That’s my manner of reasoning, Master 
 Pathfinder, to a yarn. Walking about streets, 
 going to church of Sundays, and hearing sar- 
 mons, never yet made a man of a human being. 
 Send the boy out upon the broad ocean, if you 
 wish to open his eyes, and let him look upon for- 
 eign nations, or what I call the face of Natur’, if 
 you wish him to understand his own character. 
 Now, there is my brother-in-law, the sergeant, he 
 is as good a fellow as ever broke a biscuit, in his 
 own way ; but what is he, after all ? why, nothing 
 but a soger. A sergeant, to be sure, but that is 
 a sort of a soger, you know. When he wished 
 to marry poor Bridget, my sister, I told the girl 
 what he was, as in duty bound, and what she 
 might expect from such a husband; but you 
 know how it is with girls, when their minds are 
 jammed by an inclination. It is true, the ser- 
 geant has risen in his calling, and they say he is 
 an important man at the fort ; but his poor wife 
 has not lived to see it at all, foi she has now been 
 dead these fourteen years.” 
 
 “ A soldier’s calling is an honorable calling, 
 provided he has fi’t only on the side of right,” 
 returned the Pathfinder; “and as the Frenchers 
 are always wrong, and his sacred majesty and 
 fhese colonies are always right, I take it the ser- 
 geant has a quiet conscience, as well as a good 
 character. I have never slept more sweetly than 
 when I have fi’t the Mingoes, though it is the 
 law with me to fight always like a white man, 
 and never like an Injin. The Sarpcnt, here, has 
 
AN INTERESTING DIALOGUE. 
 
 13 
 
 ftis fashions, and I have mine ; yet have we fou’t, 
 side by side, these many years, without either’s 
 thinking a hard thought consarning the other’s 
 ways. I tell him there is but one heaven and one 
 hell, notwithstanding his traditions, though there 
 are many paths to both.” 
 
 “ That is rational, and he is bound to believe 
 you, though I fancy most of the roads to the last 
 are on dry land. The sea is what my poor sister, 
 Bridget, used to call a ‘ purifying-place,’ and one 
 is out of the way of temptation when out of sight 
 of land. I doubt if as much can be said in favor 
 of your lakes, up hereaway.” 
 
 “ That towns and settlements lead to sin, I 
 will allow; but our lakes are bordered by the 
 forests, and one is every day called upon to wor- 
 ship God in such a temple. That men are not 
 always the same, even in the wdlderness, I must 
 admit, for the difference atween a Mingo and a 
 Delaware is as plain to be seen as the difference 
 atween the sun and moon. I am glad, friend 
 Cap, that we have met, howsever, if it be only that 
 you may tell the Big Sarpent, here, that there be 
 lakes in which the water is salt. We have been 
 pretty much of one mind since our acquaintance 
 begun, and if the Mohican has only half the faith 
 in me that I have in him, he believes all that I 
 have told him, touching the white men’s ways 
 and Natur’s laws ; but it has always seemed to 
 me that none of the red-skins have given as free 
 a belief, as an honest man likes, to the accounts 
 of the Big Salt Lakes, and to that of there being 
 rivers that flow up-stream.” 
 
 “ This comes of getting things wrong end fore- 
 most,” answered Cap, with a condescending nod. 
 “You have thought of your lakes and rifts, as 
 the ship, and of the ocean and the tides, as the 
 boat. Neither Arrowhead nor the Sarpent need 
 doubt what you have said concerning both, though 
 I confess, myself, to some difficulty in swallowing 
 the tale about there being inland seas at all, and 
 still more that there is any sea of fresh water. I 
 have come this long journey, as much to satisfy 
 my own eyes and palate concerning these facts, 
 as to oblige the sergeant and Magnet ; though the 
 first was my sister’s husband, and I love the last 
 like a 'jhild.” 
 
 “You are wrong — you are wrong, friend Cap, 
 very wrong to distrust the power of God, in any 
 thing,” returned Pathfinder, earnestly. “ Them 
 that live in the settlements and the towns get to 
 have confined and unjust opinions consarning the 
 might of His hand, but we who pass our time in 
 his very presence, as it might be, see things dif- 
 ferently — I mean such of us as have white natur’s. 
 A red-skin has his notions, and it is right that it 
 
 should be so ; and if they are not exactly the same 
 as a Christian white man’s, there is no harm in it. 
 Still there are matters that belong altogether to 
 the ordering of God’s providence — and these salt 
 and fresh water lakes are some of them. I do 
 not pretend to account for these things, but I 
 think it the duty of all to believe in them. For 
 my part, I am one of them who think that the 
 same hand which made the sweet water, can make 
 the salt.” 
 
 “Hold on there, Master Pathfinder,” inter- 
 rupted Cap, not without some heat ; “ in the way 
 of a proper and manly faith, I will turn my back 
 on no one, when afloat. Although more accus- 
 tomed to make all snug aloft, and to show the 
 proper canvas, than to pray, when the hurricane 
 comes, I know that we are but helpless mortals 
 at times, and I hope I pay reverence where rev- 
 erence is due. All I mean to say, and that is 
 rather insiniated than said, is this : which is, as you 
 all know, simply an intimation that, being accus- 
 tomed to see water in large bodies salt } I should 
 like to taste it, before I can believe it to be fresh.” 
 
 “ God has given the salt-lick to the deer, and 
 he has given to man, red-skin and white, the 
 delicious spring at which to slake his thirst. It 
 is onreasonable to think that he may not have 
 given lakes of pure water to the West, and lakes 
 of impure water to the East.” 
 
 Cap was awed, in spite of his overweening 
 dogmatism, by the earnest simplicity of the Path- 
 finder, though he did not relish the idea of believ- 
 ing a fact which, for many years, he had pertina- 
 ciously insisted could not be true. Unwilling to 
 give up the point, and, at the same time, unable 
 to maintain it against a reasoning to which he 
 was unaccustomed, and which possessed equally 
 the force of truth, faith, and probability, he was 
 glad to get rid of the subject by evasion. 
 
 “Well, well, friend Pathfinder,” he said, “we 
 will nipper the argument where it is ; and, as the 
 sergeant has sent you to give us pilotage to this 
 same lake, we can only try the water when we 
 reach it. Only mark my words — I do not say 
 that it may not be fresh on the surface; the 
 Atlantic is sometimes fresh on the surface, near 
 the mouths of great rivers ; but rely on it, I shall 
 show you a way of tasting the water many fath- 
 oms deep, of which you never dreamed ; and then 
 we shall know more about it.” 
 
 The guide seemed content to let the matter 
 rest, and the conversation changed. 
 
 “We are not over-consaited consarning our 
 gifts,” observed the Pathfinder, after a short 
 pause, “ and well know that such as live in the 
 towns, and near the sea — ” 
 
14 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ On the sea,” interrupted Cap. 
 
 “ On the sea, if you wish it, friend, have op- 
 portunities that do not befall us of the wilderness. 
 Still, we know our own callings, and they are 
 what I consider nat’ral callings, and are not par- 
 varted by vanity and wantonness. Now, my gifts 
 are with the rifle, and on a trail, and in the way 
 of game and scoutin’ ; for, though I can use the 
 spear and the paddle, I pride not myself on either. 
 The youth, Jasper, there, who is discoursing with 
 the sergeant’s daughter, is a different creatur’, for 
 he may be said to breathe the water, as it might 
 be, like a fish. The Indians and Frenchers of 
 the north shore call him Eau-douce, on account 
 of his gifts in this particular. He is better at the 
 oar and the rope’ too, than in making fires on a 
 trail.” 
 
 “ There must be something about these gifts 
 of which you speak, after all,” said Cap. “Now 
 this fire, I will acknowledge, has overlaid all my 
 seamanship. Arrowhead, there, said the smoke 
 came from a pale-face’s fire, and that is a piece 
 of philosophy that I hold to be equal to steering 
 in a dark night by the edges of the scud.” 
 
 “ It’s no great secret — it’s no great secret,” 
 returned Pathfinder, laughing with great inward 
 glee, though habitual caution prevented the emis- 
 sion of any noise. “ Nothing is easier to us who 
 pass our time in the great school of Providence, 
 than to l’arn its lessons. We should be as useless 
 on a trail, or in carrying tidings through the 
 wilderness, as so many woodchucks, did we not 
 soon come to a knowledge of these niceties. Eau- 
 douce, as we call him, is so fond of the water, 
 that he gathered a damp stick or two for our fire, 
 and there be plenty of them, as well as those that 
 are thoroughly dried, lying scattered about ; and 
 wet will bring dark smoke, as I suppose even you 
 followers of the sea must know. It’s no great 
 secret — it’s no great secret — though all is mystery 
 to such as doesn’t study the Lord and his mighty 
 ways with humility and thankfulness.” 
 
 “That must be a keen eye of Arrowhead’s 
 to see so slight a difference.” 
 
 “ He would be but a poor Injin if he didn’t ! 
 No, no ; it is war-time, and no red-skin is outlying 
 without using his senses. Every skin has its own 
 natur’, and every natur’ has its own laws, as well 
 as its own skin. It was many years afore I could 
 master all them higher branches of a forest edica- 
 tion, for red-skin knowledge doesn’t come as easy 
 to white-skin natur’, or what I suppose is intended 
 to be white-skin knowledge ; though I have but 
 little of the latter, having passed most of my time 
 n the wilderness.” 
 
 “You have been a ready scholar, Master 
 
 Pathfinder, as is seen by your understanding 
 these things so well. I suppose it would be no 
 great matter, for a man regularly brought up to 
 the sea, to catch these trifles, if he could only 
 bring his mind fairly to bear upon them.” 
 
 “ I don’t know that. The white man has his 
 difficulties in getting red-skin habits, quite as 
 much as the Injin in getting white-skin ways. 
 As for the raal natur’, it is my opinion that 
 neither can actually get that of the other.” 
 
 “ An d yet we sailors, who run about the 
 world so much, say there is but one nature, 
 whether it be in the Chinaman or a Dutchman. 
 For my own part, I am much of that way of 
 thinking, too ; for I have generally found that all 
 nations like gold and silver, and most men relish 
 tobacco.” 
 
 “ Then you seafaring men know little of the 
 red-skins. Have you ever known any of your 
 Chinamen who could sing their death-songs, with 
 their flesh torn with splinters and cut with knives, 
 the fire raging around their naked bodies, and 
 death staring them in the face ? Until you can 
 fin d me a Chinaman, or a Christian man, that can 
 do all this, you cannot find a man with red-skin 
 natur’, let him look ever so valiant, or know how 
 to read all the books that was ever printed.” 
 
 “ It is the savages only that play each other 
 such hellish tricks ! ” said Master Cap, glancing 
 his eyes about him uneasily at the apparently 
 endless arches of the forest. “No white man is 
 ever condemned to undergo these trials.” 
 
 “Nay, therein you are ag’in mistaken,” re- 
 turned the Pathfinder, coolly selecting a delicate 
 morsel of the venison as his bonne bouche ; “ for, 
 though these torments belong only to the red-skin 
 natur’, in the way of bearing them like braves, 
 white-skin natur’ may be, and often has been, 
 agonized by them.” 
 
 “ Happily,” said Cap, with an effort to clear 
 his throat, “ none of his majesty’s allies will be 
 likely to attempt such damnable cruelties, on any 
 of his majesty’s loyal subjects. I have not 
 served much in the royal navy, it is true ; but I 
 have served — and that is something ; and, in the 
 way of privateering and worrying the enemy in 
 his ships and cargoes, I’ve done my full share. 
 But I trust there are no French savages on this 
 side the lake, and I think you said that Ontario 
 is a broad sheet of water ? ” 
 
 “ Nay, it is broad in our eyes,” returned Path- 
 finder, not caring to conceal the smile which 
 lighted a face that had been burnt by exposure 
 to a bright red, “ though I mistrust that some 
 may think it narrow ; and narrow it is, if you 
 wish it to keep off the foe. Ontario has two 
 
THE SAILOR’S ANXIETY. 
 
 15 
 
 ends, and the enemy that is afraid to cross it will 
 be sartain to come round it.” 
 
 “ Ah ! that comes of your d d fresh-water 
 
 ponds!” growled Cap, hemming so loud as to 
 cause him instantly to repent the indiscretion. 
 “No man, now, ever heard of a pirate’s or a 
 ship’s getting round one end of the Atlantic ! ” 
 
 “ Mayhap the ocean has no ends ? ” 
 
 “ That it hasn’t ; nor sides, nor bottom. The 
 nation that is snugly moored on one of its coasts 
 need fear nothing from the one anchored abeam, 
 let it be ever so savage, unless it possesses the 
 art of ship-building. No — no — the people who 
 live on the shores of the Atlantic need fear but 
 little for their skins or their scalps. A man may 
 lie down at night, in those regions, in the. hope 
 of finding the hair on his head in the morning, 
 unless he wears a wig.” 
 
 “ It isn’t so here. I don’t wish to flurry the 
 young woman, and therefore I will be no way par- 
 ticular — though she seems pretty much listening 
 to Eau- douce, as we call him — but without the 
 edication I have received, I should think it, at 
 this very moment, a risky journey to go over the 
 very ground that lies atween us and the garrison, 
 In the present state of this frontier. •There are 
 about as many Iroquois on this side of Ontario as 
 there be on the other. It is for this very reason, 
 friend Cap, that the sergeant has engaged us to 
 come out and show you the path.” 
 
 “What! — do the knaves dare to cruise so 
 near the guns of one of his majesty’s works ? ” 
 “Do not the ravens resort near the carcass 
 of the deer, though the fowler is at hand ? They 
 come this-a-way, as it might be, nat’rally. There 
 are more or less whites passing atween the forts 
 and the settlements, and they are sure to be on 
 their trails. The Sarpent has come up on one 
 side of the river, and I have come up the other, 
 in order to scout for the outlying rascals, while 
 Jasper brought up the canoe, like a bold-hearted 
 sailor, as he is. The sergeant told him, with tears 
 in his eyes, all about his child, and how his heart 
 yearned for her, and how gentle and obedient she 
 was, until I think the lad would have dashed into 
 a Mingo camp, single-handed, rather than not 
 a-come.” 
 
 “We thank him — we thank him; and shall 
 think the better of him for his readiness ; though I 
 suppose the boy has run no great risk, after all.” 
 
 “ Only the risk of being shot from a cover, as 
 he forced the canoe up a swift rift, or turned an 
 elbow in the stream, with his eyes fastened on 
 the eddies. Of all the risky journeys, that on an 
 ambushed river is the most risky, in my judg- 
 ment. and that risk has Jasper run.” 
 
 “ And why the devil has the sergeant sent for 
 me to travel a hundred and fifty miles in this out- 
 landish manner ? Give me an offing, and the 
 enemy in sight, and I’ll play with him in his own 
 fashion, as long as he pleases, long bowls or 
 close quarters ; but to be shot like a turtle asleep, 
 is not to my humor. If it were not for little 
 Magnet there, I would tack ship this instant, 
 make the best of my way back to York, and let 
 Ontario take care of itself, salt water or fresh 
 water ! ” 
 
 “ That wouldn’t mend the matter much, friend 
 mariner, as the road to return is much longer, and 
 almost as bad as the road to go on. Trust to 
 us, and we will carry you through safe, or lose 
 our scalps.” 
 
 Cap wore a tight solid cue, done up in eel- 
 skin, while the top of his head was nearly bald ; 
 and he mechanically passed his hand over both, 
 as if to make certain that each was in its right 
 place. He was at the bottom, however, a brave 
 man, and had often faced death with coolness, 
 though never in the frightful forms in which it 
 presented itself, under the brief but graphic pic- 
 tures of his companion. It was too. late to re- 
 treat ; and he determined to put the best face on 
 the matter, though he could not avoid muttering 
 inwardly a few curses on the indifference and in- 
 discretion with which his brother-in-law, the ser- 
 geant, had led him into his present dilemma. 
 
 “ I make no doubt, Master Pathfinder,” he an- 
 swered, when these thoughts had found time to 
 glance through his mind, “ that we shall reach 
 port in safety. What distance may we now be 
 from the fort ? ” 
 
 “ Little more than fifteen miles ; and swift 
 miles, too, as the river runs, if the Mingoes let 
 us go clear.” 
 
 “ And I suppose the woods will stretch along, 
 starboard and larboard, as heretofore ? ” 
 
 “ Anan ? ” 
 
 “ I mean that we shall have to pick our way 
 through these d d trees ! ” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, you will go in the canoe, and the 
 Oswego has been cleared of its flood-wood by the 
 troops. It will be floating down-stream, and 
 that, too, with a swift current.” 
 
 “And what the devil is to prevent these 
 minks, of which you speak, from shooting us as 
 we double a headland, or are busy in steering 
 clear of the rocks ? ” 
 
 “ The Lord ! — He who has so often helped 
 others in greater difficulties. Many and many id 
 the time that my head would have been stripped 
 of hair, skin and all, hadn’t the Lord fi’t of my 
 side. I never go into a scrimmage, friend mari« 
 
16 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 ner, without thinking of this great ally, who can 
 do more in battle than all the battalions of the 
 60th, were they brought into a single line.” 
 
 “Ay — ay — this may do well enough for a 
 scouter ; but we seamen like our offing, and to go 
 into action with nothing in our minds but the 
 business before us — plain broadside and broad- 
 side work, and no trees or rocks to thicken the 
 water.” 
 
 “ And no Lord, too, I dare to say, if the truth 
 was known ! Take my word for it, Master Cap, 
 that no battle is the worse fou’t for hayin’ the 
 Lord on your side. Look at the head of the Big 
 Sarpent, there ; you can see the mark of a knife 
 all along by his left ear *, now, nothing but a bub 
 let from this long rifle of mine saved his scalp that 
 day, for it had fairly started, and half a minute 
 more would have left him without the war-lock. 
 When the Mohican squeezes my hand, and in- 
 termates that I befri’nded him in that matter, I 
 tell him, no ; it was the Lord, who led me to 
 the only spot where execution could be done, or 
 his necessity be made known, on account of the 
 smoke. Sartain when I got the right position, I 
 finished the affair of my own accord, for a fri’nd 
 under the tomahawk is apt to make a man think 
 quick, and act at once, as was my case, or the 
 Sarpent’s spirit would be hunting in the happy 
 land of his people at this very moment.” 
 
 “Come, come, Pathfinder, this palaver is 
 worse than being skinned from stem to stern ; we 
 have but a few hours of sun, and had better be 
 drifting down this said current of yours, while we 
 may. — Magnet, dear, are you not ready to get un- 
 der way ? ” 
 
 Magnet started, blushed brightly, and made 
 her preparations for an immediate departure. 
 Not a syllable of the discourse just related had 
 she heard, for Eau-douce, as young Jasper was 
 oftener called than any thing else, had been fill- 
 ing her ears with a description of the yet distant 
 port toward which she was journeying, with ac- 
 counts of her father, whom she had not seen since 
 a child, and with the manner of life of those who 
 lived in the frontier garrisons. Unconscious- 
 ly, she had become deeply interested, and her 
 thoughts had been too intently directed to these 
 interesting matters, to allow any of the less agree- 
 able subjects discussed by those so near to reach 
 her ears. The bustle of departure put an end to 
 the conversation entirely, and the baggage of the 
 «couts, or guides, being trifling, in a few minutes 
 the whole party was ready to proceed. As they 
 were about to quit the spot, however, to the sur- 
 prise of even his fellow-guides, Pathfinder collect- 
 ed a quantity of branches, and threw them upon 
 
 the embers of the fire, taking care even to see 
 that some of the wood was dajnp, in order to 
 raise as dark and dense a smoke as possible. 
 
 “ When you can hide your trail, Jasper,” he 
 said, “ a smoke at leaving an encampment may 
 do good, instead of harm. If there are a dozen 
 Mingoes within ten miles of us, some on ’em are 
 on the heights, or in the trees, looking out for 
 smokes ; let them see this, and much good may it 
 do them. They are welcome to our leavings.” 
 
 “ But may they not strike, and follow on our 
 trail ? ” asked the youth, whose interest in the 
 hazard of his situation had much increased since 
 the meeting with Magnet. “We shall leave a 
 broad path to the river.” 
 
 “ The broader the better ; when there, it will 
 surpass Mingo cunning even to say which way 
 the canoe has gone; up stream or down. Water 
 is the only thing in Natur’ that will thoroughly 
 wash out a trail, and even water will not always 
 do it, when the scent is strong. Do you not see, 
 Eau-douce, that if any Mingoes have seen our 
 path below the falls, they will strike off toward 
 this smoke, and that they will nat’rally conclude 
 that they who began by going up-stream, will en& 
 by going up-stream ? If they know any thing, 
 they now know a party is out from the fort, and 
 it will exceed even Mingo wit to fancy that we 
 have come up here, just for the pleasure of going 
 back again, and that, too, the same day, and at 
 the risk of our scalps.” 
 
 “ Certainly,” added Jasper, who was talking 
 apart with the Pathfinder, as they moved tow- 
 ard the windrow, “ they cannot know any thing 
 about the sergeant’s daughter, for the greatest se- 
 crecy has been observed on her account.” 
 
 “ And they will l’am nothing here,” returned 
 Pathfinder, causing his companion to see that he 
 trod with the utmost care, on the impressions left 
 on the leaves by the little foot of Mabel, “ unless 
 this old salt-water fish has been taking his niece 
 about in the windrow, like a fa’n playing by the 
 side of the old doe.” 
 
 “ Buck, you mean, Pathfinder.” 
 
 “Isn’t he a queerity? — Now, I can consort 
 with such a sailor as yourself, Eau-douce, and 
 find nothing very contrary in our gifts, though 
 yours belong to the lakes, and mine to the woods. 
 Harkee, Jasper,” continued the scout, laughing in 
 his noiseless manner ; “ suppose we try the tem- 
 per of his blade, and run him over the falls ? ” 
 
 “ And what would be done with the pretty 
 niece in the mean while ? ” 
 
 “ Nay — nay — no harm shall come to her ; she 
 must walk round the portage, at any rate ; but 
 you and I can try this Atlantic Oceaner, and then 
 
PERILOUS JOURNEYING. 
 
 17 
 
 ail parties will become better acquainted. We 
 shall find out whether his flint will strike fire, and 
 he may come to know something of frontier 
 tricks ! ” 
 
 Young Jasper smiled, for he was not averse 
 to fun, and had been a little touched by Cap’s 
 superciliousness ; but Mabel’s fair face, light, agile 
 form, and winning smiles, stood like a shield be- 
 tween her uncle and the intended experiment. 
 
 “Perhaps the sergeant’s daughter will be 
 frightened,” he said. 
 
 “Not she, if she has any of the sergeant’s 
 spirit in her. She doesn’t look like a skeary 
 thing, at all. Leave it to me, Eau-douce, and I 
 will manage the affair alone.” 
 
 “ Not you, Pathfinder ; you would only drown 
 both. If the canoe goes over, I must go in it.” 
 
 “Well, have it so, then; shall we smoke the 
 pipe of agreement on the bargain ? ” 
 
 Jasper laughed, npdded his head, by way of 
 consent, and the subject was dropped, for the 
 party had reached the canoe, so often mentioned, 
 and fewer words had determined much greater 
 things between the parties. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 “ Before these fields were shorn and tilled, 
 
 Full to the brim our rivers flowed ; 
 
 The melody of waters filled 
 
 The fi-esh and boundless wood ; 
 
 And torrents dashed, and rivulets played, 
 
 And fountains spouted in the shade.” 
 
 Bryant. 
 
 It is generally known that the waters which 
 flow into the southern side of Ontario are, in gen- 
 eral, narrow, sluggish, and deep. There are some 
 exceptions to this rule, for many of the rivers 
 have rapids, or, as they are termed in the lan- 
 guage of the region, rifts, and some have falls. 
 Among the latter was the particular stream on 
 which our adventurers were now journeying. The 
 Oswego is formed by the junction of the Oneida 
 and the Onondaga, both of which flow from lakes ; 
 and it pursues its way, through a gentle, undu- 
 lating country, a few miles, until it reaches the 
 margin of a sort of natural terrace, down which 
 it tumbles some ten or fifteen feet, to another lev- 
 el, across which it glides, or glances, or pursues 
 its course, with the silent stealthy progress of 
 deep water, until it throws its tribute into the 
 broad receptacle of Ontario. The canoe in which 
 Cap and his party had travelled from Fort Stan-’ 
 wix, the last military station on the Mohawk, lay 
 by the side of this river, and into it the whole 
 28 
 
 party now entered, with the exception of Path- 
 finder, who remained on the land, in order to 
 shove the light vessel off. 
 
 “ Let her stara drift down-stream, Jasper,” 
 said the man of the woods to the young mariner 
 of the lake, who had dispossessed Arrowhead of 
 his paddle, and taking his own station as steers- 
 man ; “ let it go down with the current. Should 
 any of them infarnals, the Mingoes, strike our 
 trail, or follow it to this point, they will not fail 
 to look for the signs in the mud, and if they dis- 
 cover that we have left the shore with the nose 
 of the canoe up-stream, it is a nat’ral belief to 
 think we went that-a-way.” 
 
 This direction was followed ; and, giving a vig- 
 orous shove, the Pathfinder, who was in the flow- 
 er of his strength and activity, made a leap, land- 
 ing lightly, and without disturbing its equilibri- 
 um, in the bow of the canoe. As soon as it had 
 reached the centre of the river, or the strength 
 of the current, the boat was turned, and it be- 
 gan to glide noiselessly down the stream. 
 
 The vessel in which Cap and his niece had 
 embarked for their long and adventurous journey, 
 was one of the canoes of bark which the Indiana 
 are in the habit of constructing, and wdiich, by 
 their exceeding lightness, and the ease with which 
 they are propelled, are admirably adapted to a 
 I navigation in which shoals, flood-wood, and other 
 similar obstructions, so often occur. The two 
 men who composed its original crew had several 
 times carried it, when emptied of its luggage, many 
 hundred yards ; and it' would not have exceeded 
 the strength of a single man to lift its weight. 
 Still it was long, and, for a canoe, wide, a want 
 of steadiness being its principal defect in the 
 eyes of the uninitiated. A few hours’ practice, 
 however, in a great measure remedied this evil, 
 and both Mabel and her uncle had learned so far 
 to humor its movements, that they now main- 
 tained their places with perfect composure ; nor 
 did the additional weight of the three guides tax 
 its powers in any particular degree, the breadtl 
 of the rounded bottom allowing the necessary 
 quantity of water to be displaced, without bring 
 ing the gunwale very sensibly nearer to the sur 
 face of the stream. Its workmanship v'as neat ; 
 the timbers were small, and secured by thongs ; 
 and the whole fabric, though it was so slight and 
 precarious to the eye, was probably capable of 
 conveying double the number of persons that it 
 now contained. 
 
 Cap was seated on a low thvrart, in the centre 
 of the canoe; the Big Serpent knelt near him. 
 Arrowhead and his wife occupied places forward 
 of both, the former having relinquished his post 
 
THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 13 
 
 ift. Mabel was half reclining on some of her 
 own effects, behind her uncle, while the Path- 
 finder and Eau-douce stood erect, the one in the 
 bow and the other in the stern, each using a pad- 
 dle, with a long, steady, noiseless sweep. The 
 conversation was carried on in low tones, all the 
 party beginning to feel the necessity of prudence, 
 as they drew nearer to the outskirts of the fort, 
 and had no longer the cover of the woods. 
 
 The Oswego, just at that place, was a deep, 
 dark stream, of no great width, its still, gloomy- 
 looking current winding its way among overhang- 
 ing trees, that, in particular spots, almost shut 
 out the light of the heavens. Here and there 
 some half-fallen giant of the forest lay nearly 
 across its surface, rendering care necessary to 
 avoid the limbs ; and, most of the distance, the 
 lower branches and leaves of the trees of small- 
 er growth were laved by its waters. The picture 
 which has been so beautifully described by our 
 own admirable poet, and which we have placed 
 at the head of this chapter, as an epigraph, was 
 here realized ; the earth fattened by the decayed 
 vegetation of centuries, and black with loam, the 
 stream that filled the banks nearly to overflowing, 
 and the “ fresh and boundless wood,” being all as 
 risible to the eye, as the pen of Bryant has else- 
 where vividly presented them to the imagination. 
 In short, the entire scene was one of a rich and 
 benevolent nature, before it had been subjected 
 to the uses and desires of man ; luxuriant, wild, 
 full of promise, and not without the charm of the 
 picturesque, even in its rudest state. It will be 
 remembered that this was in the year 175—, or 
 long before even speculation had brought any 
 portion of Western New York within the bounds 
 of civilization, or the projects of the adventurous. 
 At that distant day, there were two great chan- 
 nels of military communication between the in- 
 habited portion of the colony of New York, and 
 the frontiers that lay adjacent to the Canadas : 
 that by Lakes Champlain and George, and that 
 by means of the Mohawk, Wood Creek, the 
 Oneida, and the rivers we have been describing. 
 Along both these lines of communication, mili- 
 tary posts had been established, though there 
 existed a blank space of a hundred miles between 
 the last fort at the head of the Mohawk, and the 
 outlet of the Oswego, which embraced most of 
 the distance that Cap and Mabel had journeyed 
 under the protection of Arrowhead. 
 
 « I sometimes wish for peace again,” said the 
 Pathfinder, “ when one can range the forest with- 
 out s’arching for any other inemy than the beasts 
 and fishes. Ah’s me ! many is the day that the 
 Sarpent, there, and I have passed happily among 
 
 the streams, living on venison, salmon, and trout, 
 without thought of a Mingo or a scalp ! I some- 
 times wish that them blessed days might come 
 back, for it is not my raal gift to slay my own 
 kind. I’m sartain the sergeant’s daughter don’t 
 think me a wretch that takes pleasure in preying 
 on human natur’ ? ” 
 
 At this remark, a sort of half interrogatory, 
 Pathfinder looked behind him ; and, though the 
 most partial friend could scarcely term his sun- 
 burnt and hard features handsome, even Mabel 
 thought 'his smile attractive by its simple ingenu- 
 ousness, and the uprightness that beamed in every 
 lineament of his honest countenance. 
 
 “I do not think my father would have sent 
 one like those you mention, to see his daughter 
 through the wilderness,” the young woman an- 
 swered, returning the smile as frankly as it was 
 given, and much more sweetly. 
 
 “ That he wouldn’t, that he wouldn’t ; the ser- 
 geant is a man of feelin’, and many is the march 
 and the fight that we have stood shoulder to 
 shoulder in, as he would call it — though I always 
 keep my limbs free when near a Frencher or a 
 Mingo.” 
 
 “You are then the young friend of whom my 
 father has spoken so often in his letters ? ” 
 
 “ His young friend — the sergeant has the ad- 
 vantage of me by thirty years ; yes, he is thirty 
 years my senior, and as many my better.” 
 
 “Not in the eyes of the daughter, perhaps, 
 friend Pathfinder,” put in Cap, whose spirits be- 
 gan to revive when he found the water once more 
 flowing around him. “ The thirty years that you 
 mention are not often thought to be an advantage 
 in the eyes of girls of nineteen.” 
 
 Mabel colored, and, in turning aside her face 
 to avoid the looks of those in the bow of the ca- 
 noe, she encountered the admiring gaze of the 
 young man in the stern. As a last resource, her 
 spirited but soft blue eyes sought refuge in the 
 water. Just at this moment a dull, heavy sound 
 swept up the avenue formed by the trees, borne 
 along by a light air that hardly produced a ripple 
 on the water. 
 
 “ That sounds pleasantly,” said Cap, pricking 
 up his ears like a dog that hears a distant bay- 
 ing ; “ it is the surf on the shores of your lake, I 
 suppose ? ” 
 
 “ Not so — not so,” answered the Pathfinder— 
 “ it is merely this river tumbling over some rocks 
 half a mile below us.” 
 
 “ Is there a fall in the stream ? ” demanded 
 Mabel, a still brighter flush glowing in her face. 
 
 “ The devil ! Master Pathfinder — or you, Mr. 
 Oh ! the-deuce — ” (for so Cap began to style 
 
DESCENDING THE OSWEGO FALLS. 
 
 19 
 
 Jasper, by way of entering cordially into the 
 border usages), “ had you not better give the ca- 
 noe a sheer, and get nearer to the shore ? These 
 water-falls have generally rapids above them, and 
 one might as well get into the Maelstrom at once 
 as to run into their suction.” 
 
 “ Trust to us — trust to us, friend Cap,” an- 
 chored Pathfinder ; “ we are but fresh-water sail- 
 ers, it is true, and I cannot boast of being much, 
 even of that ; but we understand rifts, and rap- 
 ids, and cataracts ; and in going down these, we 
 shall do our endivors not to disgrace our edica- 
 tion.” 
 
 “ In going down ! ” exclaimed Cap — “ the 
 devil, man ! you do not dream of going down a 
 water-fall in this egg-shell of bark ? ” 
 
 “ Sartain ; the path lies over the falls, and it 
 .s much easier to shoot them than to unload the 
 canoe, and to carry that, and all it contains, 
 around a portage of a mile, by hand.” 
 
 Mabel turned her pallid countenance toward 
 the young man in the stern of the canoe, for just 
 at that moment a fresh roar of the fall was borne 
 to her ears by a new current of the air, and it 
 really sounded terrific, now that the cause was 
 understood. 
 
 “We thought that, by landing the females 
 and the two Indians,” Jasper quietly observed, 
 “ we three white men, all of whom are used to 
 the water, might carry the canoe over in safety, 
 for we often shoot these falls.” 
 
 “ And we counted on you, friend mariner, as 
 a mainstay,” said Pathfinder, winking at Jasper 
 over his shoulder, “ for you are accustomed to 
 see waves tumbling about, and, without some one 
 to steady the cargo, all the finery of the sergeant’s 
 daughter might be washed into the river and be 
 .ost.” 
 
 Cap was puzzled. The idea of going over a 
 water-fall was perhaps more serious, in his eyes, 
 than it would have been in those of one totally 
 ignorant of all that pertained to boats ; for he 
 understood the power of the element and the to- 
 tal feebleness of man when exposed to its fury. 
 Still, his pride revolted at the thought of desert- 
 ing the boat while others not only courageously 
 but coolly proposed to continue in it. Notwith- 
 standing the latter feeling, and his innate as well 
 as acquired steadiness in danger, he would proba- 
 bly have deserted his post, had not the images of 
 Indians tearing scalps from the human head taken 
 eo strong hold of his fancy as to induce him to 
 imagine the canoe a sort of sanctuary. 
 
 “ What is to be done with Magnet ? ” he de- 
 manded, affection for his niece raising another 
 qualm in his conscience. “We cannot allow 
 
 Magnet to land if there are enemy’s Indiana 
 near.” 
 
 “ Nay — no Mingo will be near the portage, for 
 that is a spot too public for their deviltries,” an- 
 swered the Pathfinder, confidently. “ N atur’ is 
 natur’, and it is an Injin’s natur’ to be found 
 where he is least expected. No fear of him on a 
 beaten path, for he wishes to come upon you when 
 unprepared to meet him, and the fiery villains 
 make it a point to deceive you one way or anoth- 
 er. — Sheer in, Eau-douce ; we will land the ser- 
 geant’s daughter on the end of that log, where 
 she can reach the shore with a dry foot.” 
 
 The injunction was obeyed, and in a few min- 
 utes the whole party had left the canoe with the 
 exception of Pathfinder and the two sailors. Not- 
 withstanding his professional pride, Cap would 
 have gladly followed, but he did not like to ex- 
 hibit so unequivocal a weakness in the presence 
 of a fresh-water sailor. 
 
 “ I call all hands to witness,” he said, as those 
 who had landed moved away, “ that I do not look 
 on this affair as any thing more than canoeing in 
 the woods. There is no seamanship in tumbling 
 over a water-fall, which is a feat the greatest 
 lubber can perforin as well as the oldest mari- 
 ner.” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, you needn’t despise the Oswego 
 Falls, neither,” put in Pathfinder, “for, though 
 they may not be Niagara, nor the Genesee, nor 
 the Cahoos, nor Glenn’s, nor them on the Canada, 
 they are narvous enough for a new beginner. 
 Let the sergeant’s daughter stand on yonder rock, 
 and she will see the manner in which we ignorant 
 backwoodsmen get over a difficulty that we can’t 
 get under.' — Now, Eau-douce, a steady hand and 
 a true eye, for all rests on you, seeing that we 
 can count Master Cap for no more than a passen- 
 ger.” 
 
 The canoe was leaving the shore as he con- 
 cluded, while Mabel went hurriedly and trembling 
 to the rock that had been pointed out, talking to 
 her companion of the danger her uncle so unne- 
 cessarily ran, while her eyes were riveted on the 
 agile and vigorous form of Eau-douce as he stood 
 erect in the stern of the light boat, governing its 
 movements. As soon, however, as she reached a 
 point where she got a view of the fall, she gave 
 an involuntary but suppressed scream, and covered 
 her eyes. At the next instant, the latter were 
 again free, and the entranced girl stood immova- 
 ble as a statue, a scarcely-breathing observer of 
 all that passed. The two Indians seated them- 
 selves passively on a log, hardly looking toward 
 the stream, while the wife of Arrowhead came 
 near Mabel, and appeared to watch the motions 
 
30 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 of the canoe with some such interest as a child j 
 regards the leaps of a tumbler. 
 
 As soon as the boat was in the stream, Path- 
 finder sank on his knees, continuing to use the 
 paddle, though it was slowly, and in a manner 
 not to interfere with the efforts of his companion. 
 The latter still stood erect, and, as he kept his 
 eye on some object beyond the fall, it was evident 
 that he was carefully looking for the spot proper 
 for their passage. 
 
 “Farther west, boy; farther west,” muttered 
 Pathfinder; “there where you see the water 
 foam. Bring the top of the dead oak in a line 
 with the stem of the blasted hemlock.” 
 
 Eau-douce made no answer, for the canoe was 
 in the centre of the stream, with its head pointed 
 toward the fall, and it had already begun to quick- 
 en its motion, by the increased force of the cur- 
 rent. At that moment, Cap would cheerfully have 
 renounced every claim to glory that could possi- 
 bly be acquired by the feat, to have been safe 
 again on shore. He heard the roar of the water, 
 thundering as it might be, behind a screen, but 
 becoming more and more distinct, louder and loud- 
 er ; and before him he saw its line cutting the 
 forest below, along which the green and angry 
 clement seemed stretched and shining, as if the 
 particles were about to lose their principle of 
 cohesion. 
 
 “Down with your helm — down with your 
 helm, man ! ” he exclaimed, unable any longer to 
 suppress his anxiety, as the canoe glided toward 
 the edge of the fall. 
 
 “ Ay — ay — down it is, sure enough,” answered 
 Pathfinder, looking behind him for a single in- 
 stant, with his silent, joyous laugh — “ down we go 
 of a sartainty ! — Heave her starn up, boy ; far- 
 ther up with her starn ! ” 
 
 The rest was like the passage of the viewless 
 wind. Eau-douce gave the required sweep with 
 his paddle, the canoe glanced into the channel, 
 and for a few seconds it seemed to Cap that he 
 was tossing in a caldron. He felt the bow of 
 the canoe tip, saw the raging, foaming water 
 careering madly by his side, was sensible that the 
 light fabric in which he floated was tossed about 
 like an egg-shell, and then, not less to his great 
 joy than to his surprise, he discovered that it 
 was gliding across the basin of still water, below 
 the fall, under the steady impulse of Jasper’s 
 paddle. 
 
 The Pathfinder continued to laugh, but he 
 arose from his knees, and, searching for a tin pot 
 and a horn spoon, he began deliberately to meas- 
 ure the water that had been taken in in the 
 passage. 
 
 “ Fourteen spoonfuls, Eau-douce ; fourteen 
 fairly-measured spoonfuls. I have, you must ac- 
 knowledge, known you to go down with only 
 ten.” 
 
 “ Master Cap leaned so hard up-stream/’ re- 
 turned Jasper, seriously, “ that I had difficulty is 
 trimming the canoe.” 
 
 “ It may be so — it may be so ; no doubt it 
 was so, since you say it ; but I have known you 
 go over with only ten.” 
 
 Cap now gave a tremendous hem, felt for his 
 cue, as if to ascertain its safety, and then looked 
 back, in order to examine the danger he had gone 
 through. His impunity is easily explained. Most 
 of the river fell perpendicularly ten or twelve feet ; 
 but near its centre, the force of the current had 
 so far worn away the rock, as to permit the wa- 
 ter to shoot through a narrow passage, at an angle 
 of about forty or forty-five degrees. Down this 
 ticklish descent the canoe had glanced, amid frag- 
 ments of broken rock, whirlpools, foam, and furi- 
 ous tossings of the element, which an uninstructed 
 eye would believe menaced inevitable destruction 
 to an object so fragile. But the very lightness of 
 the canoe favored its descent ; for, borne on the 
 crests of the waves, and directed by a steady eye 
 and an arm full of muscle, it had passed like a 
 feather from one pile of foam to another, scarce 
 ly permitting its glossy side to be wetted. There 
 were a few rocks to be avoided ; the proper di- 
 rection was to be rigidly observed, and the fierce 
 current did the rest.* 
 
 To say that Cap was astonished, would not be 
 expressing half his feelings. He felt awed, foi 
 the profound dread of rocks, which most seamen 
 entertain, came in aid of his admiration of the 
 boldness of the exploit. Still he was indisposed 
 to express all he felt, lest he might be conceding 
 too much in favor of fresh water and inland nav- 
 igation ; and no sooner had he cleared his throat 
 with the aforesaid hem, than he loosened his 
 tongue in the usual strain of superiority. 
 
 “ I do not gainsay your knowledge of the 
 channel, Master Oh ! the-Deuce ” ( for, such he re- 
 ligiously believed to be Jasper’s sobriquet ), “ and 
 after all, to know the channel in such a place is 
 the main point. I have had coxswains with me 
 who could come down that shoot too, if they 
 only knew the channel.” 
 
 “ It isn’t enough to know the channel, friend 
 mariner,” said Pathfinder ; “ it needs narves an j 
 skill to keep the canoe straight and to keep hei 
 clear of the rocks, too. There isn’t another boat 
 
 * Lest the reader suppose we are dealing purely in lie 
 tion, the writer will add that he has known a long thirty 
 two pounder carried over these same falls in perfect safety 
 
MABEL’S ADMIRATION OF EAU-DOUCE. 
 
 21 
 
 man in all this region that can shoot the Oswego, 
 but Eau-douce, there, with any sartainty ; though, 
 now and then, one has blundered through. I 
 can’t do it myself, unless by means of providence, 
 a,nd it needs Jasper’s hand and Jasper’s eye to 
 make sure of a dry passage. Fourteen spoonfuls, 
 after all, are no great matter, though I wish it 
 bad been but ten, seeing that the sergeant’s 
 daughter was a looker-on.” 
 
 “And yet you conned the canoe; you told 
 him how to head and how to sheer.” 
 
 “Human frailty, master mariner; that -was a 
 little of white-skin natur’. Now, had the Sar- 
 pent, yonder, been in the boat, not a word would 
 ne have spoken, or thought would he have given 
 to the public. An Injin knows how to hold his 
 tongue ; but we white folk fancy we are always 
 wiser than our fellows. I’m curing myself fast of 
 the weakness, but it needs time to root up the tree 
 that has been growing more than thirty years.” 
 
 “I think little of this affair, sir ; nothing at 
 all, to speak my mind freely It’s a mere wash 
 of spray to shooting London Bridge, which is 
 done every day by hundreds of persons, and often 
 by the most delicate ladies in the land. The 
 king’s majesty has shot the bridge in his royal 
 person.” 
 
 “Well, I want no delicate ladies or king’s 
 majesties (God bless ’em !) in the canoe, in going 
 over these falls ; for a boat’s-breadth, either way, 
 may make a drowning matter of it. — Eau-douce, 
 we shall have to carry the sergeant’s brother over 
 Niagara yet, to show him what may be done on a 
 frontier ! ” 
 
 “ The devil ! Master Pathfinder, you must be 
 joking, now. Surely it is not possible for a bark 
 canoe to go over that mighty cataract ! ” 
 
 “ You never were more mistaken, Master Cap, 
 in your life. Nothing is easier, and many is the 
 canoe I have seen go over it, with my own eyes, 
 and, if we both live, I hope to satisfy you that 
 the feat can be done. For my part, I think 
 the largest ship that ever sailed on the ocean 
 might be carried over, could she once get into the 
 rapids.” 
 
 Cap did not perceive the wink which Path- 
 finder exchanged with Eau-douee, and he remained 
 silent for some time; for, sooth to say, he had 
 never suspected the possibility of going down 
 Niagara, feasible as the thing must appear to 
 every one, on a second thought, the real difficulty 
 existing in going up it. 
 
 By this time, the party had reached the place 
 where Jasper had left his own canoe concealed in 
 the bushes, and they all reembarked ; Cap, Jas- 
 per, and hi3 niece, in one boat, and Pathfinder, 
 
 Arrowhead, and the wife of the latter, in the 
 other. The Mohican had already passed down 
 the banks of the river by land, looking cautiously, 
 and with the skill of his people, for the signs of 
 an enemy. 
 
 The cheek of Mabel did not recover all its 
 bloom, until the canoe was again in the current, 
 down which it floated swiftly, occasionally im- 
 pelled by the paddle of Jasper. She witnessed 
 the descent of the falls with a degree of terror 
 that had rendered her mute, but her fright had 
 not been so great as to prevent admiration of the 
 steadiness of the youth, who directed the move- 
 ment, from blending with the passing terror. In 
 truth, one much less quick and sensitive might 
 have had her feelings awakened by the cool and 
 gallant air with which Eau-douce had accom- 
 plished this clever exploit. He had stood firmly 
 erect, notwithstanding the plunge ; and to those 
 who were on the shore, it was evident that, by a 
 timely application of his skill and strength, the 
 canoe had received a sheer that alone carried it 
 clear of a rock, over which the boiling water was 
 leaping in jets d'eau — now leaving the brown 
 stone visible, and now covering it with a limpid 
 sheet, as if machinery controlled the play of the 
 element. The tongue cannot always express what 
 the eyes view, but Mabel saw enough, even in 
 that moment of fear, to blend forever in her 
 mind the pictures presented by the plunging 
 canoe and the unmoved steersman. She admit- 
 ted that insidious sentiment which binds woman 
 so strongly to man, by feeling additional security 
 in finding herself under his care; and, for the 
 first time since leaving Fort Stanwix, she was 
 entirely at her ease in the frail bark in which she 
 travelled. As the other canoe kept quite near 
 her own, however, and the Pathfinder, by floating 
 at her side, was most in view, the conversation 
 was principally maintained with that person ; 
 Jasper seldom speaking unless addressed, and 
 constantly exhibiting a wariness in the manage- 
 ment of his own boat, that might have been 
 remarked by one accustomed to his Ordinary 
 confident, careless manner, had such an observer 
 been present to note what was passing. 
 
 “ We know too well a woman’s gifts, to think 
 of carrying the sergeant’s daughter over the falls,” 
 said Pathfinder, looking at Mabel, while he ad- 
 dressed her uncle ; “ though I’ve been acquainted 
 with some of her sex, in them regions, that would 
 think but little of doing the thing.” 
 
 “Mabel is faint-hearted, like her mother,” 
 returned Cap, “ and you did well, friend, to 
 humor her weakness. You will remember the 
 child has never been at sea.” 
 
22 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “No — no— it was easy to discover that, by 
 your own fearlessness — any one might have seen 
 how little you cared about the matter ! I went 
 over once with a raw hand, and he jumped out 
 of the canoe, just as it tipped, and you may judga 
 what a time he had of it ! ” 
 
 “ What became of the poor fellow ? ” asked 
 O&p, scai'ce knowing how to take the other’s 
 scanner, which was so dry, while it was so simple, 
 that a less obtuse subject than the old sailor 
 might well have suspected its sincerity. “One 
 who has passed the place, knows how to feel for 
 him.” 
 
 “He was a poor fellow, as you say; and a 
 poor frontier-man, too, though he came out to 
 show his skill among us ignoranters. What be- 
 came of him ? — Why, he went down the falls 
 topsy-turvy like, as would have happened to a 
 court-house or a fort.” 
 
 “If it should jump out of a canoe,” inter- 
 rupted Jasper, smiling, though he was evidently 
 more disposed than his friend to let the passage 
 of the falls be forgotten. 
 
 “ The boy is right,” rejoined Pathfinder, 
 laughing in Mabel’s face, the canoes now being 
 go near that they almost touched ; “ he is sar- 
 tainly right. But you have not told us what you 
 think of the leap we took ? ” 
 
 “It was perilous and bold,” said Mabel; 
 v * while looking at it, I could have wished that it 
 had not been attempted, though, now it is over, I 
 can admire its boldness, and the steadiness with 
 which it was made.” 
 
 “ Now, do not think that we did this thing to 
 get ourselves off in female eyes. It may be pleas- 
 ant to the young to win each other’s good opin- 
 ions, by doing things that may seem praiseworthy 
 and bold ; but neither Eau-douce nor myself is 
 of that race. My natur’, though perhaps the 
 Sarpent would be a better witness, has few turns 
 in it, and is a straight natur’ ; nor would it be 
 likely to lead me into a vanity of this sort, while 
 out on duty. As for Jasper, he would sooner go 
 over the Oswego falls without a looker-on, than do 
 it before a hundred pair of eyes. I know the lad 
 well, from use and much consorting, and I am 
 sure he is not boastful or vainglorious.” 
 
 Mabel rewarded the scout with a smile that 
 served to keep the canoes together for some 
 &me longer, for the sight of youth and beauty 
 eras so rare on that remote frontier, that even 
 the rebuked and self-mortified feelings of this 
 wanderer of the forest were sensibly touched by 
 the blooming loveliness of the girl. 
 
 •• We did it for the best,” Pathfinder contin- 
 ued ; “ ’twas all for the best. Had we waited to 
 
 carry the canoe across the portage, time would 
 have been lost, and nothing is so precious aa 
 time, when you are distrustful of Mingoes.” 
 
 “ But we can have little to fear, now ! The 
 canoes move swiftly, and two hours, you have 
 said, will carry us down to the fort.” 
 
 “ It shall be a cunning Iroquois who hurts & 
 hair of your head, pretty one, for all here are 
 bound to the sergeant, and most, I think, to 
 yourself, to see you safe from harm. — Ha ! Eau- 
 douce ; what is that in the river, at the lower 
 turn, yonder, beneath the bushes — I mean stand- 
 ing on the rock ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis the Big Serpent, Pathfinder ; he is mak- 
 ing signs to us, in a way I don’t understand.” 
 
 “ ’Tis the Sarpent, as sure as I’m a whiteman, 
 and he wishes us to drop in nearer to his shore. 
 Mischief is brewin’n’, or one of his deliberation 
 and steadiness would never take this trouble. — 
 Courage, all ! we are men, and must meet devil- 
 try as becomes our color and our callings. Ah ! 
 I never knew good come of boastin’ ; and here, 
 just as I was vauntin’ of our safety, comes dan 
 ger to give me the lie.” 
 
 CHAPTER IY. 
 
 “ Art, stryving to compare 
 
 With Nature did an arber greene dispr6d, 
 
 Framed of wanton yvie flowing fayre. 
 
 Through which the fragrant eglantines did spred.” 
 
 Spenseb. 
 
 The Oswego, below the falls, is a more rapid, 
 unequal stream than it is above them. There 
 are places where the river flows in the quiet still 
 ness of deep water, but many shoals and rapids 
 occur ; and, at that distant day, when every thing 
 was in its natural state, some of the passes were 
 not altogether without hazard. Very little exer- 
 tion was required on the part of those who man- 
 aged the canoes, except in those places where the 
 swiftness of the current and the presence of the 
 rocks required care ; when, indeed, not only vigi- 
 lance, but great coolness, readiness, and strength 
 of arm, became necessary, in order to avoid the 
 dangers. Of all this the Mohican was aware, and 
 he had judiciously selected a spot where the river 
 flowed tranquilly, to intercept the canoes, in or- 
 der to make his communication without hazard 
 to those he wished to speak. 
 
 The Pathfinder had no sooner recognized the 
 form of his red friend, than, with a strong sweep 
 of his paddle, he threw the head of his own canoe 
 toward the shore, motioning for Jasper to follow. 
 In a minute both boats were silently drifting 
 
A MINGO TRAIL. 
 
 23 
 
 down the stream, within reach of the bushes that 
 overhung the water, all observing a profound si- 
 lence ; some from alarm, and others from habitual 
 caution. As the travellers drew nearer the In- 
 dian, he made a sign for them to stop ; when he 
 nd Pathfinder had a short but earnest confer- 
 ence, in the language of the Delawares. 
 
 “ The chief is not apt to see enemies in a 
 dead log,” observed the white man to his red 
 associate ; “ why does he tell us to stop ? ” 
 
 “ Mingoes are in the woods.” 
 
 “ That we have believed these two days : does 
 the chief know it ? ” 
 
 The Mohican quietly held up the head of a 
 pipe, formed of stone. 
 
 “ It lay on a fresh trail that led toward the 
 garrison ” — for so it was the usage of that fron- 
 tier to term a military work, whether it was oc- 
 cupied or not. 
 
 “ That may be the bowl of a pipe belonging 
 to a soldier. Many use the red-skin pipes.” 
 
 “ See,” said the Big Serpent, again holding the 
 thing he had found up to the view of his friend. 
 
 The bowl of the pipe was of soap-stone, and 
 it had been carved with great care, and with a 
 very respectable degree of skill. In its centre 
 was a small Latin cross, made with an accuracy 
 that permitted no doubt of its meaning. 
 
 “ That does foretell deviltry and wickedness,” 
 said the Pathfinder, who had all the provincial 
 horror of the holy symbol in question that then 
 pervaded the country, and which became so in- 
 corporated with its prejudices, by confounding 
 men with things, as to have left its traces strong 
 enough on the moral feeling of the community, to 
 be discovered even at the present hour ; “no In- 
 jin who had not been parvarted by the cunning 
 priests of the Canadas would dream of carving a 
 thing like that on his pipe ! I’ll warrant ye, the 
 knave prays to the image every time he wishes 
 to sarcumvent the innocent, and work his fear- 
 ful wickedness. It looks fresh, too, Chingach- 
 gook ? ” 
 
 “ The tobacco was burning when I found it.” 
 
 “ That is close work, chief — where was the 
 trai. ? ” 
 
 The Mohican pointed to a spot not a hundred 
 yards distant from that where they stood. 
 
 The matter now began to look very serious, 
 and the two principal guides conferred apart for 
 several minutes, when both ascended the bank, 
 approached the indicated spot, and examined the 
 trail with the utmost care. After this investiga- 
 tion had lasted a quarter of an hour, the white 
 man returned alone, his red friend having disap- 
 peared in the forest. 
 
 The ordinary expression of the countenance 
 of the Pathfinder was that of simplicity, integri- 
 ty, and sincerity, blended in an air of self-reli- 
 ance, that usually gave great confidence to those 
 who found themselves under his care ; but now a 
 look of concern cast a shade over his honest 
 face, that struck the whole party. 
 
 “ What cheer, Master Pathfinder ? ” demand- 
 ed Cap, permitting a voice that was usually deep, 
 loud, and confident, to sink into the cautious 
 tones that better suited the dangers of the wil- 
 derness; “has the enemy got between us and 
 our port ? ” 
 
 “ Anan ? ” 
 
 “Have any of these painted scaramouches 
 anchored off the harbor toward which we are 
 running, with the hope of cutting us off in enter- 
 ing ? ” 
 
 “It may be all as you say, friend Cap, but I 
 am none the wiser for your words ; and, in tick- 
 lish times, the plainer a man makes his English, 
 the easier he is understood. I know nothing of 
 ports and anchors, but there is a direful Mingo 
 trail within a hundred yards of this very spot, 
 and as fresh as venison without salt. If one of 
 the fiery devils has passed, so have a dozen ; and 
 what is worse, they have gone down toward the 
 garrison, and not a soul crosses the clearing 
 around it that some of their piercing eyes will 
 not discover, when sartain bullets will follow.” 
 
 “ Cannot this said fort deliver a broadside, 
 and clear every thing within the sweep of its 
 hawse ? ” 
 
 “Nay, the forts this-a-way are not like forts 
 in the settlements, and two or three light can- 
 non are all they have down at the mouth of the 
 river ; and then, broadsides fired at a dozen out- 
 lying Mingoes, lying behind logs, and in a forest, 
 would be powder spent in vain. We have but 
 one course, and that is a very nice one. We are 
 judgmatically placed here, both canoes being hid 
 by the high bank and the bushes, from all eyes 
 except them of any lurker directly opposite. 
 Here, then, we may stay, without much present 
 fear ; but how to get the blood-thirsty devils up 
 the stream again? Ha! I have it — I have it — 
 If it does no good, it can do no harm. — Do you 
 see the wide-top chestnut, here, Jasper, at the 
 last turn in the river ? On our own side of the 
 stream, I mean.” 
 
 “ That near the fallen pine ? ” 
 
 “ The very same. Take the flint and tinder- 
 box, creep along the bank, and light a fire at that 
 spot; maybe the smoke will draw them above us. 
 In the mean while, we will drop the canoes care- 
 fully down beyond the point below, and find an 
 
24 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 other shelter. Bushes arc plenty, and covers are 
 easy to be had m this region, as witness the many 
 ambushments.” 
 
 “ I will do it, Pathfinder,” said Jasper, spring- 
 ing to the shore. “ In ten minutes the fire shall 
 be lighted.” 
 
 “ And, Eau-c auce, use plenty of damp wood 
 Shis time,” half- whispered the other, laughing 
 heartily, in his own peculiar manner — “ when 
 smoke is wanted, water helps to thicken it.” 
 
 The young man, who too well understood his 
 duty to delay unnecessarily, was soon off, making 
 his way rapidly toward the desired point. A 
 slight attempt of Mabel to object to the risk was 
 disregarded, and the party immediately prepared 
 to change its position, as it could be seen from 
 the place where Jasper intended to light his fire. 
 The movement did not require haste, and it was 
 made leisurely, and with care. The canoes were 
 got clear of the bushes, then suffered to drop 
 down with the stream, until they reached the 
 spot where the chestnut, at the foot of which Jas- 
 per was to light the fire, was almost shut out 
 from view, when they stopped, and every eye was 
 turned in the direction of the adventurer. 
 
 “ There goes the smoke ! ” exclaimed the 
 Pathfinder, as a current of air whirled a little 
 column of the vapor from the land, allowing it to 
 pise spirally above the bed of the river. “ A good 
 flint, a small bit of steel, and plenty of dry leaves, 
 make a quick fire ! I hope Eau-douce will have 
 the wit to bethink him of the damp wood, now, 
 when it may sarve us all a good turn.” 
 
 “ Too much smoke — too much cunning,” said 
 Arrowhead, sententiously. 
 
 “ That is gospel truth, Tuscarora, if the Min- 
 goes didn’t know that they are near soldiers ; but 
 soldiers commonly think more of their dinner, at 
 a halt, than of their wisdom and danger. No, 
 no ; let the boy pile on his logs, and smoke them 
 well too ; it will all be laid to the stupidity of 
 some Scotch or Irish blunderer, who is thinking 
 more of his oatmeal or his potatoes than of Injin 
 sarcumventions or Injin rifles.” 
 
 “And yet I should think, from all we have 
 heard in the towns, that the soldiers on this fron- 
 tier are used to the artifices of their enemies,” 
 said Mabel ; “ and have got to be almost as wily 
 as the red men themselves.” 
 
 “Not they — not they. Exper’ence makes 
 them but little wiser ; and they wheel, and platoon, 
 and battalion it about, here in the forest, just 
 as they did in their parks at home, of which 
 they are all so fond of talking. One red-skin has 
 more cunning in his natur’ than a whole rijiment 
 from the other side of the water — that is what I 
 
 call cunning of the woods. But there is smoke 
 enough, of all conscience, and we had better drop 
 into another cover. The lad has thrown the river 
 on his fire, and there is danger that the Mingoee 
 will believe a whole rijiment is out.” 
 
 While speaking, the Pathfinder permitted his 
 canoe to drift away from the bush by which it 
 had been retained, and in a couple of minutes the 
 bend in the river concealed the smoke and the 
 tree. Fortunately a small indentation in the 
 shore presented itself wfithin a few yards of the 
 point they had just passed ; and the two canoes 
 glided into it, under the impulsion of the paddles. 
 
 A better spot could not have been found for 
 the purpose of the travellers, than the one they 
 now occupied. The bushes were thick, and over- 
 hung the water, forming a complete canopy of 
 leaves. There was a small gravelly strand at the 
 bottom of the little bay, where most of the party 
 landed to be more at their ease, and the only po- 
 sition from which they could possibly be seen 
 was a point on the river directly opposite. There 
 was little danger, however, of discovery from that 
 quarter, as the thicket there was even denser than 
 common, and the land beyond it was so wet and 
 marshy as to render it difficult to be trodden. 
 
 “ This is a safe cover,” said the Pathfinder, 
 after he had taken a scrutinizing survey of his po- 
 sition ; “ but it may be necessary to make it safer. 
 Master Cap, I ask nothing of you but silence, and 
 a quieting of such gifts as you may have got at 
 sea, while the Tuscarora and I make provision 
 for the evil hour.” 
 
 The guide then went a short distance into the 
 bushes, accompanied by the Indian, where the 
 two cut off the larger stems of several alders and 
 other bushes, using the utmost care not to make 
 a noise. The ends of these little trees, for such 
 in fact they were, were forced into the mud, out- 
 side of the canoes, the depth of the water being 
 very trifling ; and in the course of ten minutes a 
 very effectual screen was interposed between them 
 and the principal point of danger. Much inge- 
 nuity and readiness were manifested in making 
 this simple arrangement, in which the two work- 
 men were essentially favored by the natural for- 
 mation of the bank, the indentation of the shore, 
 the shallowness of the water, and the manner in 
 which the tangled bushes dipped into the stream. 
 The Pathfinder had the address to look for bushes 
 that had curved stems, things easily found in such 
 a place ; and, by cutting them some distance be- 
 neath the bend, and permitting the latter to touch 
 the water, the artificial little thicket had not the 
 appearance of growing in the stream, which might 
 have excited suspicion ; but one passing it would 
 
UNDER COVER. 
 
 25 
 
 nave thought that the bushes shot out horizon- 
 tally from the bank before they inclined upward 
 toward the light. In short, the shelter was so 
 cunningly devised, and so artfully prepared, that 
 none but an unusually distrustful eye would have 
 been turned for an instant toward the spot, in 
 quest of a hiding-place. 
 
 “ This is the best cover I ever yet got into,” 
 eaid the Pathfinder, with his quiet laugh, after 
 having been on the outside to reconnoitre ; “ the 
 leaves of our new trees fairly touch the bushes 
 over our heads, and even the painter who has 
 been in the garrison of late, could not tell which 
 belong to Providence and which are ourn. — Hist ! 
 — yonder comes Eau-douce, wading, like a sensi- 
 ble boy as he is, to leave his trail in the water ; 
 and we shall soon see whether our cover is good 
 for any thing or not.” 
 
 Jasper had, indeed, returned from his duty 
 above, and, missing the canoes, he at once in- 
 ferred that they had dropped round the next bend 
 in the river, in order to get out of sight of the 
 fire. His habits of caution immediately suggest- 
 ed the expediency of stepping into the water, in 
 order that there might exist no visible communi- 
 cation between the marks left on the shore, by 
 the party, and the place where he believed them 
 to have taken refuge below. Should the Cana- 
 dian Indians return on their own trail, and dis- 
 cover that made by the Pathfinder and the Ser- 
 pent, in their ascent from, and descent to, the 
 river, the clew to their movements would cease at 
 the shore, water leaving no prints of footsteps. 
 The young man had therefore waded, knee-deep, 
 as far as the point, and was now seen making 
 his way slowly down the margin of the stream, 
 searching curiously for the spot in which the ca- 
 noes were hid. 
 
 It was in the power of those behind the 
 bushes, by placing their eyes near the leaves, to 
 find many places to look through, while one at a 
 little distance lost this advantage ; or, even did 
 his sight happen to fall on some small opening, 
 the bank and the shadows beyond prevented him 
 from detecting forms and outlines of sufficient di- 
 mensions to expose the fugitives. It was evident 
 to those who watched his motions from behind 
 their cover, and they were all in the canoes, that 
 Jasper was totally at a loss to imagine where the 
 Pathfinder had secreted himself. When fairly 
 round the curvature in the shore, and out of 
 Bight of the fire he had lighted above, the young 
 man stopped and began examining the bank de- 
 liberately and with great care. Occasionally, he 
 advanced eight or ten paces, and then halted 
 again, to renew the search. The watei being 
 
 muoh shoaler than common, he stepped aside, in 
 order to walk with greater ease to himself, and 
 came so near the artificial plantation, that he 
 might have touched it with his hand. Still he de- 
 tected nothing, and was actually passing the spot, 
 when Pathfinder made an opening beneath the 
 branches, and called to him, in a low voice, to 
 enter. 
 
 •“ This is pretty well,” said the Pathfinder, 
 laughing ; “ though pale-face eyes and red-skin 
 eyes are as different as human spy-glasses. I 
 would wager with the sergeant’s daughter, here, 
 a horn of powder agin a wampum-belt for her 
 girdle, that her father’s rijiment should march by 
 this ambushment of ourn, and never find out the 
 fraud ! But, if the Mingoes actilly get down into 
 the bed of the river, where Jasper passed, I should 
 tremble for the plantation. It will do for their 
 eyes even, across the stream, howsever, and will 
 not be without its use.” 
 
 “Don’t you think, Master Pathfinder, that it 
 would be wisest after all,” said Cap, “ to get under 
 way at once, and carry sail hard down-stream, as 
 soon as we are satisfied these rascals ane fairly 
 astern of us? We seamen call a stern chase a 
 long chase.” 
 
 “ I wouldn’t move from this spot until we hear 
 from the Sarpent, with the sergeant’s pretty 
 daughter, here, in our company, for all the powder 
 in the magazine of the fort below ! Sartain cap- 
 tivity or sartain death would follow. If a tender 
 fa’n, such as the maiden we have in charge, could 
 thread the forest like old deer, it might, indeed, 
 do to quit the canoes, for by making a circuit we 
 could reach the garrison before morning.” 
 
 “ Then let it be done,” said Mabel, springing 
 to her feet, under the sudden impulse of awakened 
 energy. “I am young, active, used to exercise, 
 and could easily outwalk my dear uncle. Let no 
 one think me a hinderance. I cannot bear that all 
 your lives should be exposed on my account.” 
 
 “No, no, pretty one; we think you any thing 
 but a hinderance, or any thing that is onbecoming, 
 and would willingly run twice this risk to do you 
 and the honest sergeant a service. — Do I not speak 
 your mind, Eau-douce ? ” 
 
 “ To do her a service ! ” said Jasper, with em- 
 phasis. “ Nothing shall tempt me to desert Ma- 
 bel Dunham, until she is safe in her father’s arms.” 
 
 “Well said, lad; bravely and honestly said, 
 too ; and I join in it, heart and hand. — No, no ; 
 you are not the first of your sex I have led 
 through the wilderness, and never but once did 
 any harm befall any of them — that was a sad day, 
 sartainly ; but its like may never come again ! ” 
 
 Mabel looked from one of her protectors to , 
 
THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 ZQ 
 
 the other, and her fine eyes swam in tears. 
 Frankly placing a hand in that of each, she an- 
 swered them, though at first her voice was 
 choked : 
 
 “ I have no right to expose you on my ac- 
 count. My dear father will thank you — I thank 
 you — God will reward you — but let there be no 
 unnecessary risk. I can walk far, and have often 
 gone miles, on some girlish fancy ; why not now 
 exert myself for my life — nay, for your precious 
 lives ? ” 
 
 “ She is a true dove, Jasper,” said the Path- 
 finder, neither relinquishing the hand he held 
 until the girl herself, in native modesty, saw fit to 
 withdraw it, “ and wonderfully winning ! We 
 get to be rough, and sometimes even hard-hearted, 
 in the woods, Mabel ; but the sight of one like 
 you brings us back agin to our young feelin’s, and 
 does us good for the remainder of our days. I 
 dare say Jasper, here, will tell you the same ; for, 
 like me in the forest, the lad sees but few such as 
 yourself, on Ontario, to soften his heart, and re- 
 mind him of love for his kind.— Speak out, now, 
 Jasper, and say if it is not so.” 
 
 “ I question if many like Mabel Dunham are 
 to be found anywhere,” returned the young man, 
 gallantly, an honest sincerity glowing in his face, 
 that spoke more eloquently than his tongue ; 
 “ you need not mention woods and lakes to chal- 
 lenge her equals, but I would go into the settle- 
 ments and towns.” 
 
 “ We had better leave the canoes,” Mabel 
 hurriedly rejoined ; “ for I feel it is no longer safe 
 to be here.” 
 
 “ You can never do it — you can never do it. 
 It would be a march of more than twenty miles, 
 and that too of tramping over brush and roots, 
 and through swamps, in the dark ; the trail of 
 such a party would be wide, and we might have 
 to fight our way into the garrison, a’tcrall. We 
 will wait for the Mohican.” 
 
 Such appearing to be the decision of him to 
 whom all, in their present strait, looked up for 
 counsel, no more was said on the subject. The 
 whole party now broke up into groups ; Arrow- 
 head and his wife sitting apart under the bushes, 
 conversing in a low tone, though the man spoke 
 Bternly, and the woman answered with the sub- 
 dued mildness that marks the degraded condition 
 of a savage’s wife. Pathfinder and Cap occupied 
 one canoe, chatting of their different adventures 
 by sea and land, while Jasper and Mabel sat in 
 the other, making greater progress in intimacy in 
 a single hour than might have been effected under 
 other circumstances in a twelvemonth. Notwith- 
 * standing their situation as regards the enemy, 
 
 the time flew by swiftly, and the young people fn 
 particular were astonished when Cap informed 
 them how long they had been thus occupied. 
 
 “ If one could smoke, Master Pathfinder,” ob- 
 served the old sailor, “ this berth would be snug 
 enough; for, to give the devil his due, you have 
 got the canoes handsomely landlocked, and into 
 moorings that would defy a monsoon. The only 
 hardship is the denial of the pipe.” 
 
 “ The scent of the tobacco would betray us, 
 and where is the use of taking all these precau 
 tions against the Mingoes’ eyes if we are to tell 
 them where the cover is to be found through the 
 nose ? No — no — deny your appetites, deny your 
 appetites, and learn one vartue from a red-skin, 
 who will pass a week without eating even, to get 
 a single scalp. — Did you hear nothing, Jasper ? ” 
 
 “ The Serpent is coming.” 
 
 “ Then let us see if Mohican eyes are better 
 than them of a lad who follows the water.” 
 
 The Mohican made his appearance in the same 
 direction as that by which Jasper had rejoined 
 his friends. Instead of coming directly on, how- 
 ever, no sooner did he pass the bend, where he 
 was concealed from any who might be higher up- 
 stream, than he moved close under the bank, and, 
 using the utmost caution, got a position where he 
 could look back, with his person sufficiently con- 
 cealed by the bushes to prevent its being seen by 
 any in that quarter. 
 
 “ The Sarpent sees the knaves ! ” whispered 
 Pathfinder — “ as I’m a Christian white man they 
 have bit at the bait, and have ambushed the 
 smoke ! ” 
 
 Here a hearty but silent laugh interrupted 
 his words, and, nudging Cap with his elbow, they 
 all continued to watch the movements of Chingach- 
 gook in profound stillness. The Mohican remained 
 stationary as the rock on which he stood, fully 
 ten minutes ; then it was apparent that something 
 of interest had occurred within his view, for he 
 drew back with a hurried manner, looked anx- 
 iously and keenly along the margin of the stream, 
 and moved quickly down it, taking care to lose 
 his trail in the shallow water. He was evidently 
 in a hurry, and concerned, now looking behind 
 him, and then casting eager glances toward every 
 spot on the shore where he thought a canoe might 
 be concealed. 
 
 “ Call him in,” whispered Jasper, scarce able 
 to restrain his impatience — “call him in, or it will 
 be too late. See, he is actually passing us.” 
 
 “Not so — not so, lad ; nothing presses, depend 
 on it,” returned his companion, “ or the Sarpent 
 would begin to creep. The Lord help us, and 
 teach us wisdom ! I do believe even Chingach- 
 
THE PARTY IN DANGER. 
 
 27 
 
 gook, whoso sight is as faithful as the hound’s 
 scent, overlooks us, and will not find out the 
 arabushment we have made ! ” 
 
 This exultation was untimely, for the words 
 were no sooner spoken, than the Indian, who had 
 actually got several feet lower down the stream 
 than the artificial cover, suddenly stopped, fast- 
 ened a keen riveted glance among the transplanted 
 bushes, made a few hasty steps backward, and, 
 bending his body and carefully separating the 
 branches, he appeared among them. 
 
 “ The accursed Mingoes ! ” said Pathfinder, as 
 soon as his friend was near enough to be addressed 
 with prudence. 
 
 “ Iroquois,” returned the sententious Indian. 
 
 “No matter — no matter — Iroquois — devil — 
 Mingoes — Mengwes, or furies — all are pretty much 
 the same. I call all rascals Mingoes. Come 
 hither, chief, and let us convarse rationally.” 
 
 The two then stepped aside, and conversed 
 earnestly in the dialect of the Delawares. When 
 their private communication was over, Pathfinder 
 rejoined the rest, and made them acquainted with 
 all he had learned. 
 
 The Mohican had followed the trail of their 
 enemies some distance toward the fort, until the 
 latter caught a sight of the smoke of Jasper’s fire, 
 when they instantly retraced their steps. It now 
 became necessary for Chingachgook, who ran the 
 greatest risk of detection, to find a cover where 
 he could secrete himself until the party might 
 pass. It was, perhaps, fortunate for him that the 
 savages were so intent on this recent discovery, 
 that they did not bestow the ordinary attention on 
 the signs of the forest. At all events, they passed 
 him swiftly, fifteen in number, treading lightly in 
 each other’s footsteps : and he was enabled again 
 to get into their rear. After proceeding to the 
 place where the footsteps of Pathfinder and the 
 Mohican joined the principal trail, the Iroquois 
 had struck off to the river, which they reached 
 just as Jasper disappeared behind the bend be- 
 low. The smoke being now in plain view, the 
 savages plunged into the woods, and endeavored 
 to approach the fire unseen. Chingachgook prof- 
 ited by this occasion to descend to the water, 
 and to gain the bend in the river also, which he 
 thought had been effected undiscovered. Here 
 he paused, as has been stated, until he saw his 
 enemies at the fire, where their stay, however, 
 was very short. 
 
 Of the motives ol the Iroquois, the Mohican 
 could judge only by their acts. He thought they 
 had detected the artifice of the fire, and were 
 iiware that it had been kindled with a view to 
 mislead them ; for, after a hasty examination of 
 
 the spot, they separated, some plunging again into 
 the woods, while six or eight followed the foot- 
 steps of Jasper along the shore, and came down 
 the stream toward the place where the canoes had 
 landed. What course they might take on reach- 
 ing that spot, was only to be conjectured, for tins 
 Serpent had felt the emergency to be too pressing 
 to delay looking for his friends any longer. From 
 some indications that were to be gathered from 
 their gestures, however, he thought it probable 
 that their enemies might follow down in the 
 margin of the stream, but could not be certain. 
 
 As the Pathfinder related these facts to his 
 companions, the professional feelings of the two 
 other white men came uppermost, and both 
 naturally reverted to their habits, in quest of the 
 means of escape. 
 
 “Let us run out the canoes at once,” said 
 Jasper, eagerly ; “ the current is strong, and by 
 using the paddles vigorously we shall soon be 
 beyond the reach of these scoundrels ! ” 
 
 “ And this poor flower, that first blossomed in 
 the clearin’s — shall it wither in the forest ? ” ob- 
 jected his friend, with a poetry that he had un 
 consciously imbibed by his long association with 
 the Delawares. 
 
 “We must all die first,” answered the youth, 
 a generous color mounting to his temples; “M&- 
 bel and Arrowhead’s wife may lie down in the 
 canoes, while we do our duty, like men, on oa* 
 feet.” 
 
 “ Ay, you are actyve at the paddle and the 
 oar, Eau-douce, I will allow, but an accursed 
 Mingo is more actyve at his mischief ; the canoes 
 are swift, but a rifle-bullet is swifter.” 
 
 “ It is the business of men, engaged as we have 
 been, by a confiding father, to run this risk — ” 
 
 “ But it is not their business to overlook pru- 
 dence.” 
 
 “ Prudence ! a man may carry his prudence 
 so far as to forget his courage.” 
 
 The group was standing on the narrow strand, 
 the Pathfinder leaning on his rifle, the butt of 
 which rested on the gravelly beach, while both 
 his hands clasped the barrel, at the height of his 
 own shoulders. As Jasper threw out this severe 
 and unmerited imputation, the deep red of his 
 comrade’s face maintained its hue unchanged, 
 though the young man perceived that the fingers 
 grasped the iron of the gun with the tenacity of a 
 vice. Here all betrayal of emotion ceased. 
 
 “You are young and hot-headed,” returned 
 the Pathfinder, with a dignity that impressed his 
 listener with a keen sense of his moral superior- 
 ity ; “ but my life has been passed among dangers 
 of this sort, and my exper’ence and gifts are not 
 
28 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 to be mastered by the impatience of a boy. As 
 for courage, Jasper, I will not send back an angry 
 and unmeaning word, to meet an angry and an. 
 unmeaning word, for I know that you are true, in 
 your station and according to your knowledge ; 
 but take the advice of one who faced the Mingoes 
 when you were a child, and know that their 
 ennning is easier sarcumvented by prudence than 
 outwitted by foolishness.” 
 
 “ I ask your pardon, Pathfinder,” said the 
 repentant Jasper, eagerly grasping the hand that 
 the other permitted him to seize; “I ask your 
 pardon, humbly and sincerely. ’Twas a foolish 
 as well as wicked thing to hint of a man whose 
 heart, in a good cause, is as firm as the rocks on 
 the lake-shore.” 
 
 For the first time the color deepened on the 
 cheek of the Pathfinder, and the solemn dignity 
 that he had assumed, under a purely natural im- 
 pulse, disappeared in the expression of the earnest 
 simplicity that was inherent in all his feelings. 
 He met the grasp of hi3 young friend with a 
 squeeze as cordial as if no chord had jarred be- 
 tween them, and a slight sternness that had gath- 
 ered about his eye disappeared in a look of natural 
 kindness. 
 
 “ ’Tis wel], Jasper, ’tis well,” he answered, 
 laughing. “ I bear no ill-will, nor shall any one 
 In my behalf. My natur’ is that of a white man, 
 and that is to bear no malice. It might have 
 been ticklish work to have said half as much to 
 the Sarpent here, though he is a Delaware — for 
 color will have its way — ” 
 
 A touch on his shoulder caused the speaker to 
 cease. Mabel was standing erect in the canoe, 
 her light but swelling form bent forward in an 
 attitude of graceful earnestness, her finger on her 
 lips, her head averted, the spirited eyes riveted 
 on an opening in the bushes, and one arm ex- 
 tended with a fishing-rod, the end of which had 
 touched the Pathfinder. The latter bowed his 
 head to a level with a lookout near which he had 
 intentionally kept himself, and then whispered to 
 Jasper: 
 
 “ The accursed Mingoes ! Stand to your arms, 
 my men, but lay quiet as the corpses of dead 
 trees ! ” 
 
 Jasper advanced rapidly but noiselessly to 
 the canoe, and with a gentle violence induced 
 SCabel to place herself in such an attitude as con- 
 cealed her entire body, though it would have 
 orobably exceeded his means to induce the girl 
 co far to lower her head that she could not keep 
 her gaze fastened on their enemies. He then 
 took his own post near her, with his rifle cocked 
 and poised, in readiness tc fire. Arrowhead and 
 
 Chingachgook crawled to the cover, and lay in 
 wait like snakes, with their arms prepared tor 
 service, while the wife of the former bowed her 
 head between her knees, covered it with her calico 
 robe, and remained passive and immovable. Cap 
 loosened both his pistols in their belt, but seemed 
 quite at a loss what course to pursue. The Path- 
 finder did not stir. He had originally got a posi- 
 tion Avhere he might aim with deadly effect through 
 the leaves, and where he could watch the move- 
 ments of his enemies ; and he was far too steady 
 to be disconcerted at a moment so critical. 
 
 It was truiy an alarming instant. Just as 
 Mabel touched the shoulder of her guide, three 
 of the Iroquois appeared in the water, at the bend 
 of the river, within a hundred yards of the cover, 
 and halted to examine the stream below. They 
 were all naked to the waist, armed for an expedi- 
 tion against their foes, and in their war-paint. It 
 was apparent that they were undecided as to the 
 course they ought to pursue, in order to find the 
 fugitives. One pointed down the river, a second 
 up the stream, and the third toward the opposite 
 bank. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 “ Death Is here, and death is there, 
 
 Death is busy everywhere.” 
 
 Shellet. 
 
 It was a breathless moment. The only clew 
 the fugitives possessed to the intentions of their 
 pursuers was in their gestures, and the indica- 
 tions that escaped them in the fury of disap- 
 pointment. That a party had returned already 
 on their own footsteps, by land, was pretty cer- 
 tain ; and all the benefit expected from the arti- 
 fice of the fire was necessarily lost. But that 
 consideration became of little moment, just then, 
 for the secreted were menaced with an immediate 
 discovery by those who had kept on a level with 
 the river. All the facts presented themselves 
 clearly, and as it might be by intuition, to the 
 mind of Pathfinder, who perceived the necessity 
 of immediate decision, and of being in readiness 
 to act in concert. Without making any noise, 
 therefore, he managed to get the two Indians and 
 Jasper near him, when he opened his communi- 
 cations in a whisper. 
 
 “ We must be ready — we must ;>e ready,” he 
 said. “ There are but three of the scalping 
 devils, and we are five, four of whom may be set 
 down as manful warriors for such a scrimmage. 
 
DEATH OF A YOUNG IROQUOIS. 
 
 29 
 
 Ear douce, do you take the fellow that is painted 
 tike death ; Chingachgook, I give you the chief ; 
 and Arrowhead must keep his eye on the young j 
 one. There must be no mistake ; for two bullets 
 in the same body would be sinful waste, with one 
 like the sergeant's daughter in danger. I shall 
 hold myself in resarve ag’in accidents, lest a 
 fourth riptyle appear, for one of your hands may 
 prove onsteady. By no means fire until I give 
 the word ; we must not let the crack of the rifle 
 be heard except in the last resort, since all the 
 rest of the miscreants are still within hearing. 
 Jasper, boy, in case of any movement behind us, 
 on the bank, I trust to you to run out the canoe, 
 with the sergeant’s daughter, and to pull for the 
 garrison, by God’s leave.” 
 
 The Pathfinder had no sooner given these di- 
 rections than the near approach of their enemies 
 rendered profound silence necessary. The Iro- 
 quois in the river were slowly descending the 
 stream, keeping of necessity near the bushes that 
 overhung the water, while the rustling of leaves 
 and the snapping of twigs soon gave fearful evi- 
 dence that another party was moving along the 
 bank at an equally graduated pace, and directly 
 abreast of them. In consequence of the distance 
 between the bushes planted by the fugitives and 
 the true shore, the two parties became visible to 
 each other, when opposite that precise point. 
 Both stopped, and a conversation ensued, that 
 may be said to have passed directly over the 
 heads of those who were concealed. Indeed, 
 nothing sheltered the travellers but the branches 
 and leaves of plants, so pliant, that they yielded 
 to every current of air, and which a puff of wind, 
 a little stronger than common, would have blown 
 away. Fortunately, the line of sight carried the 
 eyes of the two parties of savages, whether they 
 stood in the water or on the land, above the 
 bushes; and the leaves appeared blended in a 
 way to excite no suspicion. Perhaps the very 
 boldness of the expedient prevented an exposure. 
 The conversation that took place was conducted 
 earnestly, but in guarded tones, as if those who 
 spoke wished to defeat the intentions of any lis- 
 teners. It was in a dialect that both the Indian 
 warriors beneath, as well as the Pathfinder, un- 
 derstood. Even Jasper comprehended a portion 
 of what was said. 
 
 “ The trail is washed away by the water ! ” 
 said one from below, who stood so near the arti- 
 ficial cover of the fugitives that he might have 
 been struck by the salmon-spear that ljy in the 
 bottom of Jasper’s canoe. “Water has washed 
 it so clear, that a Yengeese hound could not fol- 
 low.” 
 
 “ The pale-faces have left the shore in their 
 canoes,” answered the speaker on the bank. 
 
 “ It cannot be. The rifles of our warriors 
 below are certain.” 
 
 The Pathfinder gave a significant glance at 
 Jasper, and he clinched his teeth in order to sup^ 
 press the sound of his own breathing. 
 
 “Let my young men look as if their eyes 
 were eagles’,” said the eldest warrior among 
 those who were wading in the river. “ We have 
 been a whole moon on the war-path, and have 
 found but one scalp. There is a maiden among 
 them, and some of our braves want wives.” 
 
 Happily these words were lost on Mabel, but 
 Jasper’s frown became deeper, and his face fierce- 
 ly flushed. 
 
 The savages now ceased speaking, and the 
 party that was concealed heard the slow and 
 guarded movements of those who were on the 
 bank, as they pushed the bushes aside in their 
 wary progress. It was soon evident that the lat- 
 ter had passed the cover ; but the group in the 
 water still remained, scanning the shore with 
 eyes that glared through their war-paint like coals 
 of living fire. After a pause of two or three 
 minutes, these three began also to descend the 
 stream, though it was step by step, as men move 
 who look for an object that has been lost. In 
 this manner they passed the artificial screen, and 
 Pathfinder opened his mouth, in that hearty but 
 noiseless laugh, that nature and habit had con- 
 tributed to render a peculiarity of the man. His 
 triumph, however, was premature ; for the last 
 of the retiring party, just at this moment casting 
 a look behind him, suddenly stopped ; and his 
 fixed attitude and steady gaze at once betrayed 
 the appalling fact that some neglected bush had 
 awakened his suspicions. 
 
 It was, perhaps, fortunate for the concealed, 
 that the warrior who manifested these fearful signs 
 of distrust was young, and had still a reputation 
 to acquire. He knew the importance of discre- 
 tion and modesty in one of his years, and most of 
 all did he dread the ridicule and contempt that 
 would certainly follow a false alarm. Without 
 recalling any of his companions, therefore, he 
 turned on his own footsteps, and while the others 
 continued to descend the river, he cautiously ap- 
 proached the bushes, on which his looks wer* 
 still fastened, as by a charm. Some of the leaveiv 
 which were exposed to the sun had drooped a lit- 
 tle, and this slight departure from the usual nat- 
 ural laws had caught the quick eyes of the In- 
 dian : for so practised and acute do the senses 
 of the savage become, more especially when he is 
 ?n the war-path, that trifles apparently of the 
 
30 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 most insignificant sort often prove to be clews to 
 lead him to his object. The trifling nature of 
 the change which had aroused the suspicion of 
 this youth was an additional motive for not 
 acquainting his companions with his discovery. 
 Should he really detect any thing, his glory would 
 be the greater for being unshared ; should he not, 
 he might hope to escape that derision which the 
 young Indian so much dreads. Then there were 
 the dangers of an ambush and a surprise, to which 
 every warrior of the woods is keenly alive, to ren- 
 der his approach slow and cautious. In conse- 
 quence of the delay that proceeded from these 
 combined causes, the two parties had descended 
 some fifty or sixty yards before the young savage 
 was again near enough to the bushes of the Path- 
 finder to touch them with his hand. 
 
 Notwithstanding their critical situation, the 
 whole party behind the cover had their eyes fast- 
 ened on the working countenance of the young 
 Iroquois, who was agitated by conflicting feelings. 
 First came the eager hope of obtaining success, 
 where some of the most experienced of his tribe 
 had failed, and with it a degree of glory that had 
 seldom fallen to the share of one of his years, or 
 a brave on his first war-path; then followed 
 doubts, as the drooping leaves seemed to rise 
 again, and to revive in the currents of air ; and 
 distrust of hidden danger lent its exciting feeling 
 to keep the eloquent features in play. So very 
 slight, however, had been the alteration produced 
 by the heat on bushes of which the stems were 
 in the water, that when the Iroquois actually laid 
 his hand on the leaves, he fancied that he had 
 been deceived. As no man ever distrusts strong- 
 ly, without using all convenient means of satisfy- 
 ing his doubts, however, the young warrior cau- 
 tiously pushed aside the branches, and advanced 
 a step within the hiding-place, when the forms of 
 the concealed party met his gaze, resembling so 
 many breathless statues. The low exclamation, 
 the slight start, and the glaring eye, were hardly 
 seen and heard, before the arm of Chingachgook 
 was raised, and the tomahawk of the Delaware 
 descended on the shaven head of his foe. The 
 Iroquois raised his hands frantically, bounded 
 backward, and fell into the water at a spot where 
 the current swept the body away, the struggling 
 limbs still tossing and writhing in the agony of 
 death. The Delaware made a vigorous but un- 
 successful attempt to seize an arm, with the hope 
 of securing the scalp, but the blood-stained waters 
 whirled down the current, carrying with them 
 their quivering burden. 
 
 All this passed in less than a minute ; and the 
 events were so sudden and unexpected, that men 
 
 less accustomed than the Pathfinder and his a» 
 sociates to forest warfare would have been at a 
 loss how to act. 
 
 “ There is. not a moment to lose,” said Jasper, 
 tearing aside the bushes, as he spoke earnestly, 
 but in a suppressed voice. “ Do as I do, Master 
 Cap, if you would save your niece ; and you, Ma- 
 bel, lie at your length in the canoe.” 
 
 The words were scarcely uttered, when, seiz- 
 ing the bow of the light boat, he dragged it along 
 the shore, wading himself while Cap aided be- 
 hind, keeping so near the bank as to avoid being 
 seen by the savages below, and striving to gain 
 the turn in the river above him, which would ef- 
 fectually conceal the party from the enemy. The 
 Pathfinder’s canoe lay nearest to the bank, and it 
 was necessarily the last to quit the shore. The 
 Delaware leaped on the narrow strand, and plunged 
 into the forest, it being his assigned duty to watch 
 the foe in that quarter, while Arrowhead mo- 
 tioned to his white companion to seize the bow 
 of the boat, and to follow Jasper. All this was 
 the work of an instant. But when the Pathfind- 
 er reached the current that was sweeping round 
 the turn, he felt a sudden change in the weight 
 he was dragging, and looking back he found that 
 both the Tuscarora and his wife had deserted 
 him. The thought of treachery flashed upon his 
 mind, but there was no time to pause ; for the 
 wailing shout that arose from the party below, 
 proclaimed that the body of the young Iroquois 
 had floated as low as the spot reached by his 
 friends. The report of a rifle followed ; and then 
 the guide saw that Jasper, having doubled the 
 bend in the river, was crossing the stream, stand- 
 ing erect in the stern of the canoe, while Cap was 
 seated forward, both propelling the light boat 
 with vigorous strokes of the paddles. A glance, 
 a thought, and an expedient, followed each other 
 quickly, in one so trained in the vicissitudes of 
 the frontier warfare. Springing into the stern of 
 his own canoe, he urged it by a vigorous shove 
 into the current, and commenced crossing the 
 stream himself, at a point so much lower than 
 that of his companions, as to offer his own per- 
 son for a target to the enemy, well knowing that 
 their keen desire to secure a scalp would control 
 all other feelings. 
 
 “ Keep well up the current, Jasper,” shouted 
 the gallant guide, as he swept the water with long, 
 steady, vigorous strokes of the paddle — “ keep 
 well up the current, and pull for the alder-bushes 
 opposit#. Presarve the sergeant’s daughter be- 
 fore all things, and leave the Mingo knaves to the 
 Sarpent and me.” 
 
 Jasper flourished his paddle, as a signal of uu- 
 
A SKILFUL EXPLOIT. 
 
 31 
 
 derstanding, while shot succeeded shot in quick 
 succession, all now being aimed at the solitary man 
 in the nearest canoe. 
 
 “Ay, empty your rifles, like simpletons as 
 you be,” said the Pathfinder, who had acquired a 
 habit of speaking when alone, from passing so 
 much of his time in the solitude of the forest ; 
 “ empty your rifles, with an onsteady aim, and 
 give me a chance to put yard upon yard of river 
 a tween us. I will not revile you, like a Dela- 
 ware or a Mohican, for my gifts are a white man’s 
 gifts, and not an Injin’s ; and boasting in battle 
 is no part of a Christian warrior ; but I may say, 
 here, all alone by myself, that you are little bet- 
 ter than so many men from the town, shooting at 
 robins in the orchards ! That was well-meant,” 
 throwing back his head, as a rifle-bullet cut a 
 lock of hair from his temple — “ but the lead that 
 misses by an inch is as useless as the lead that 
 never quits the barrel. — Bravely done, Jasper! 
 the sergeant’s sweet child must be saved, even if 
 we go in without our own scalps.” 
 
 By this time the Pathfinder was in the centre 
 of the river, and almost abreast of his enemies, 
 while the other canoe, impelled by the vigorous 
 arms of Cap and Jasper, had nearly gained the op- 
 posite shore at the precise spot that had been point- 
 ed out to them. The old mariner now played his 
 part manfully ; for he was on his proper element, 
 loved his niece sincerely, had a proper regard for 
 his own person, and was not unused to fire, though 
 hi3 experience certainly lay in a very different 
 species of warfare. A few strokes of the paddles 
 were given, and the canoe shot into the bushes, 
 Mabel was hurried to laud by Jasper, and, for the 
 present, all three of the fugitives were safe. 
 
 Not so with Pathfinder. His hardy self-devo- 
 tion had brought him into a situation of unusual 
 exposure, the hazards of which were much in- 
 creased, by the fact that just as he drifted near- 
 est to the enemy, the party on the shore rushed 
 down the bank, and joined their friends who 
 stood still in the water. The Oswego was about 
 a cable’s length in width at this point, and the ca- 
 noe being in the centre, the object was only a 
 hundred yards from the rifles that were constant- 
 ly discharged at it, or at the usual target distance 
 for that weapon. 
 
 In this extremity the steadiness and skill of 
 the Pathfinder did him good service. He knew 
 that his safety depended altogether on keeping in 
 motion ; for a stationary object, at that distance, 
 vronld have been hit nearly every shot. Nor was 
 motion itself sufficient ; for, accustomed to kill 
 the bounding deer, his enemies probably knew 
 how to vary the line of aim so as to strike him, 
 
 should he continue to move in any one direction. 
 He was consequently compelled to change the 
 course of the canoe, at one moment shooting 
 down with the current, with the swiftness of an 
 arrow, and at the next checking its progress 
 in that direction, to glance athwart the stream. 
 Luckily the Iroquois could not reload their pieces 
 in the water, and the bushes that everywhere 
 fringed the shore rendered it difficult to keep the 
 fugitive in view when on the land. Aided by these 
 circumstances, and having received the fire of all 
 his foes, the Pathfinder was gaining fast in dis- 
 tance, both downward and across the current, when 
 a new danger suddenly, if not unexpectedly, pre- 
 sented itself by the appearance of the party that 
 had been left in ambush below, with a view to 
 watch the river. 
 
 These were the savages alluded to in the short 
 dialogue that has been already related. They 
 were no less than ten in number, and, understand- 
 ing all the advantages of their bloody occupation, 
 they had posted themselves at a spot where the 
 water dashed among rocks and over shallows, 
 in a way to form a rapid, which, in the language 
 of the country, is called a rift. The Pathfinder 
 saw that if he entered this rift he should be com- 
 pelled to approach a point where the Iroquois 
 had posted themselves, for the current was irre- 
 sistible, and the rocks allowed no other safe 
 passage, while death or captivity would be the 
 probable result of the attempt. All his efforts, 
 therefore, were turned toward reaching the west- 
 ern shore, the foe being all on the eastern side of 
 the river. But the exploit surpassed human 
 power, and to attempt to stem the stream would 
 at once have so far diminished the motion of the 
 canoe as to render aim certain. In this exigency 
 the guide came to a decision with his usual cool 
 promptitude, making his preparations accord- 
 ingly. Instead of endeavoring to gain the chan- 
 nel, he steered toward the shallowest part of the 
 stream, on reaching which, he seized his rifle and 
 pack, leaped into the water, and began to wade 
 from rock to rock, taking the direction of the 
 western shore. The canoe whirled about in the 
 furious current, now rolling over some slipperj 
 stone, now filling, and then emptying itself, until 
 it lodged on the shore, within a few yards of the 
 spot where the Iroquois had posted themselves. 
 
 In the mean while the Pathfinder was far from 
 being out of danger ; for the first minute, admi- 
 ration of his promptitude and daring, which are 
 high virtues in the mind of an Indian, kept his 
 enemies motionless; but the desire of revenge, 
 and the cravings for the much-prized trophy, 
 soon overcame this transient feeling, and aroused 
 
32 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 them from their stupor. Rifle flashed after rifle, 
 and the bullets whistled around the head of the 
 fugitive, amid the roar of the waters. Still he 
 proceeded like one who bore a charmed life, for 
 while his rude frontier garments were more than 
 ^nce cut, his skin was not razed. 
 
 As the Pathfinder, in several instances, was 
 compelled to wade in water that rose nearly to 
 his arms, while he kept his rifle and ammunition 
 elevated above the raging current, the toil soon 
 fatigued him, and he was glad to stop at a large 
 stone, or a small rock, which rose so high above 
 the river, that its upper surface was dry. On 
 this stone he placed his powder-horn, getting 
 behind it himself, so as to have the advantage of 
 a partial cover for his body. The western shore 
 was only fifty feet distant, but the quiet, swift, 
 dark current that glanced through the interval, 
 sufficiently showed that here he would be com- 
 pelled to swim. 
 
 A short cessation in the firing now took place 
 on the part of the Indians, who gathered about 
 the canoe, and, having found the paddles, were 
 preparing to cross the river. 
 
 ‘‘ Pathfinder ! ” called a voice from among the 
 bushes, at the point nearest to the person ad- 
 dressed, on the western shore. 
 
 “ What would you have, Jasper ? ” 
 
 “ Be of good heart — friends are at hand, and 
 not a single Mingo shall cross without suffering 
 for his boldness. Had you not better leave the 
 rifle on the rock, and swim to us before the 
 rascals can get afloat ? ” 
 
 “A true woodsman never quits his piece, 
 while he has any powder in his horn, or a bullet 
 in his pouch. I have not drawn a trigger this 
 day, Eau-douce, and shouldn’t relish the idea of 
 parting with them riptyles, without causing them 
 to remember my name. A little water will not 
 harm my legs; and I see that blackguard, Ar- 
 rowhead, among the scamps, and wish to send 
 him the wages he has so faithfully earned. You 
 have not brought the sergeant’s daughter down 
 here in a range with their bullets, I hope, Jas- 
 per ! ” 
 
 “ She is safe, for the present at least ; though 
 all depends on our keeping the river between us 
 and the enemy. They must know our weakness, 
 now ; and, should they cross, no doubt some of 
 their party will be left on the other side.” 
 
 “ This canoeing touches your gifts rather than 
 mine, boy, though I will handle a paddle with the 
 best Mingo that ever struck a salmon. If they 
 cross below the rift, why can’t we cross in the 
 still water above, and keep playing at dodge and 
 turn with the wolves ? ” 
 
 “ Because, as I have said, they will leave a 
 party on the other shore — and then, Pathfinder, 
 would you expose Mabel to the rifles of the Iro- 
 quois? ” 
 
 “The sergeant’s daughter must be saved,” 
 returned the guide, with calm energy. “You are 
 right, Jasper ; she has no gift to authorize her 
 in offering her sweet face and tender body to a 
 Mingo rifle. What can be done, then ? They 
 must be kept from crossing for an hour or two, 
 if possible, when we must do our best in the 
 darkness.” 
 
 “I agree with you, Pathfinder, if it can be 
 effected ; but are we strong enough for such a 
 purpose ? ” 
 
 “ The Lord is with us, boy — the Lord is with 
 us; and it is onreasonable to suppose that one 
 like the sergeant’s daughter will be altogether 
 abandoned by Providence, in such a strait. 
 There is not a boat atween the falls and the 
 garrison, except these two canoes, to my sartain 
 knowledge; and I think it will go beyond red- 
 skin gifts to cross in the face of two rifles, liko 
 these of yourn and mine. I will not vaunt, Jas 
 per, but it is well known on all thi3 frontier that 
 Killdeer seldom fails.” 
 
 “ Your skill is admitted by all, far and near, 
 Pathfinder, but a rifle takes time to be lor.ied; 
 nor are you on the land, aided by a good cover, 
 where you can work to the advantage you are 
 used to. If you had our canoe, might you not 
 pass to the shore with a dry rifle ? ” 
 
 “ Can an eagle fly, Jasper ? ” returned the 
 other, laughing in his usual manner, and looking 
 back as he spoke. “ But it would be onwise to 
 expose yourself on the water, for them miscreants 
 are beginning to bethink them again of powder 
 and bullets.” 
 
 “ It can be done without any such chances. 
 Master Cap has gone up to the canoe, and will 
 cast the branch of a tree into the river to try the 
 current, which sets from the point above in the 
 direction of your rock. See, there it comes 
 already ; if it float fairly, you must raise your 
 arm, when the canoe will follow. At all events, 
 if the boat should pass you, the eddy below will 
 bring it up, and I can recover it.” 
 
 While Jasper was still speaking, the floating 
 branch came in sight, and quickening its progress 
 with the increasing velocity of the current, it 
 swept swiftly down toward the Pathfinder, who 
 seized it as it was passing, and held it in the air 
 as a sign of success. Cap understood the signal, 
 and presently the canoe was launched into the 
 stream, with a caution and an intelligence that 
 the habits of the mariner fitted him to observe 
 
THE DELAWARE’S FATAL SHOT. 
 
 33 
 
 It floated in the same direction as the branch, 
 and in a minute was arrested by the Pathfinder. 
 
 “This has been done with a frontier-man’s 
 judgment, Jasper,” said the guide, laughing; 
 “ but you have your gifts, which incline most to 
 the water, as mine incline to the woods. Now 
 let them Mingo knaves cock their rifles and get 
 rests, for this is the last chance they are likely to 
 have at a man without a cover.” 
 
 “Nay, shove the canoe toward the shore, 
 quartering the current, and throw yourself into it 
 as it goes off,” said Jasper, eagerly. “ There is 
 little use in running any risk.” 
 
 “ I love to stand up face to face with my 
 inemics like a man, while they set me the exam- 
 ple,” returned the Pathfinder, proudly. “I am 
 not a red-skin born, and it' is more a white man’s 
 gifts to fight openly than to lie in ambushment.” 
 
 “And Mabel?” 
 
 “ True, boy, true — the sergeant’s daughter 
 must be saved; and, as you say, foolish risks 
 only become boys. Think you that you can catch 
 the canoe where you stand ? ” 
 
 “ There can be no doubt, if you give a vigor- 
 ous push.” 
 
 Pathfinder made the necessary effort, the light 
 bark shot across the intervening space, and Jas- 
 per seized it as it came to land. To secure the 
 canoe and to take proper positions in the cover 
 occupied the friends but a moment, when they 
 shook hands cordially, like those who had met 
 after a long separation. 
 
 “Now, Jasper, we shall see if a Mingo of 
 them all dare cross the Oswego in the teeth of 
 Killdeer ! You are handier with the oar, and the 
 paddle, and the sail, than with the rifle, perhaps ; 
 but you have a stout heart and a steady hand, 
 and them are things that count in a fight.” 
 
 “ Mabel will find me between her and her ene- 
 mies,” said Jasper, calmly. 
 
 “Yes, yes, the sergeant’s daughter must be 
 protected. I like you, boy, on your own account, 
 but I like you all the better that you think of one 
 so feeble at a moment when there is need of all 
 your manhood. See, Jasper, three of the knaves 
 are actually getting into the canoe ! They must 
 believe we have fled, or they would not surely 
 ventur’ so much, directly in the very face of Kill- 
 deer ! ” 
 
 Sure enough, the Iroquois did appear bent on 
 venturing across the stream, for, as the Pathfinder 
 and his friends now kept their persons strictly 
 concealed, their enemies began to think that the 
 latter had taken to flight. The course 'was that 
 which most white men would have followed ; 
 but Mabel was under the care of those who were 
 29 
 
 much too well skilled in forest warfare to neglect to 
 defend the only pass that in truth now offered 
 even a probable chance for protection. 
 
 As the Pathfinder had said, three warriors 
 were in the canoe, two holding their rifles at a 
 poise, kneeling in readiness to aim the deadly 
 weapons ; the other standing erect in the stem to 
 wield the paddle. In this manner they left the 
 shore, having had the precaution to haul the ca- 
 noe, previously to entering it, so far up the stream, 
 as to get into the comparatively still water above 
 the rift. It was apparent, at a glance, that the 
 savage who guided the boat was skilled in the art, 
 for the long, steady sweep of his paddle sent the 
 light bark over the glassy surface of the tranquil 
 river as if it were a feather floating in air. 
 
 “ Shall I fire ? ” demanded Jasper, in a whis- 
 per, trembling with eagerness to engage. 
 
 “ Not yet, boy ; not yet. There are but three 
 of them, and if Master Cap, yonder, knows how 
 to use the pop-guns he carries in his belt, we may 
 even let them land, and then we shall recover the 
 canoe.” 
 
 “But Mabel?—” 
 
 “ No fear for the sergeant’s daughter. She is 
 safe in the hollow stump, you say, with the open- 
 ing judgmatically hid by the brambles. If what 
 you tell me of the manner in which you concealed 
 the trail be true, the sweet-one might lie there e 
 month, and laugh at the Mingoes.” 
 
 “We are never certain — I wish we had 
 brought her nearbr to our own cover ! ” 
 
 “ What for, Eau-douce ? — To place her pret- 
 ty little head and leaping heart among flying bul- 
 lets. No — no — she is better where she is, be- 
 cause she is safer.” 
 
 “ We are never certain — we thought ourselves 
 safe behind the bushes, yet you saw that we were 
 discovered.” 
 
 “ And the Mingo imp paid for his cur’osity, 
 as them knaves are about to do — ” 
 
 At that instant the sharp report of a rifle was 
 heard, when the Indian in the stern of the canoe 
 leaped high into the air, and fell into the water 
 holding the paddle in his hand. A small wreath 
 of smoke floated out from among the bushes of 
 the eastern shore, and was soon absorbed by the 
 atmosphere. 
 
 “That is the Sarpent hissing!” exclaimed 
 the Pathfinder, exultingly. “ A bolder or truer 
 heart never beat in the breast of a Delaware. I 
 am sorry that he interfered, but he could not 
 have known our condition — he could not have 
 known our condition.” 
 
 The canoe no sooner lost its guide, than it 
 floated with the stream, and was soon sucked into 
 
64 : 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 the rapids of the rift. Perfectly helpless, the two 
 remaining savages gazed wildly about them, but 
 could offer no resistance to the power of the ele- 
 ment. It was, perhaps, fortunate for Chingach- 
 gook that the attention of most of the Iroquois 
 was intently given to the situation of those in the 
 boat, else would his escape have been to the last 
 degree difficult, if not totally impracticable. But 
 not a foe moved, except to conceal his person be- 
 hind some cover, and every eye was riveted on 
 the two remaining adventurers. In less time 
 than has been necessary to record these occur- 
 rences, the canoe was whirling and tossing in the 
 rift, while both the savages had stretched them- 
 selves in its bottom, as the only means of pre- 
 serving the equilibrium. This natural expedient 
 soon failed them ; for, striking a rock, the light 
 craft rolled over, and the two warriors were 
 thrown into the river. The water is seldom deep 
 on a rift, except in particular places where it may 
 have worn channels, and there was little to be 
 apprehended from drowning, though their arms 
 were lost, and the two savages were fain to make 
 the best of their way to the friendly shore, swim- 
 ming and wading as circumstances required. 
 The canoe itself lodged on a rock, in the centre 
 of the stream, where, for the moment, it became 
 useless to both parties. 
 
 “Now is our time, Pathfinder,” cried Jasper, 
 as the two Iroquois exposed most of their persons 
 while wading in the shallowest part of the rapids 
 — “ The fellow up-stream is mine, and you can 
 take the lower.” 
 
 So excited had the young man become, by all 
 the incidents of the stirring scene, that the bul- 
 let sped from his rifle as he spoke, but uselessly, 
 as it would seem, for both the fugitives tossed 
 their arms in disdain. The Pathfinder did not 
 fire. 
 
 “ No— no — Eau-douce,” he answered, “ I do not 
 seek blood without a cause, and my bullet is well 
 leathered and carefully driven down, for the time 
 of need. I love no Mingo, as is just, seeing how 
 much I have consorted with the Delawares, who 
 are their mortal and nat’ral enemies ; but I pull no 
 trigger on one of the miscreants unless it be plain 
 that his death will lead to some good ind. The 
 deer never leaped that fell by my hand wantonly. 
 By living much alone with God in the wilderness, 
 i man gets to feel the justice of such opinions. 
 One life is sufficient for our present wants, and 
 there may yet be occasion to use Killdeer in be- 
 half of the Sarpent, who has done an untimor- 
 some thing to let them rampant devils so plainly 
 know that he is in their neighborhood. As I’m 
 % wicked sinner, there is one of them prowling 
 
 along the bank, this very moment, like one of 
 the boys of the garrison skulking behind a fall- 
 en tree to get a shot at a squirrel ! ” 
 
 As the Pathfinder pointed with his finger, 
 while speaking, the quick eye of Jasper soon 
 caught the object toward which it was directed. 
 One of the young warriors of the enemy, burning 
 with a desire to distinguish himself, had stolen 
 from his party toward the cover in which Chin- 
 gachgook had concealed himself ; and as the la* 
 ter was deceived by the apparent apathy of his 
 foes, as well as engaged in some further prepara- 
 tions of his own, he had evidently obtained a posi- 
 tion where he got a sight of the Delaware. This cir- 
 cumstance was apparent by the arrangements the 
 Iroquois was making to fire, for Chingachgook 
 himself was not visible* from the western side of 
 the river. The rift was at a bend in the Oswego, 
 and the sweep of the eastern shore formed a 
 curve so wide that Chingachgook was quite near 
 to his enemies in a straight direction, though 
 separated by several hundred feet on the land, 
 owing to which fact air lines brought both par- 
 ties nearly equidistant from the Pathfinder and 
 Jasper. The general width of the river being a 
 little less than two hundred yards, such neces- 
 sarily was about the distance detween his two ob- 
 servers and the skulking Iroquois. 
 
 “ The Sarpent must be thereabouts,” observed 
 Pathfinder, who never turned his eye for an in- 
 stant from the young warrior ; “ and yet he must 
 be strangely off his guard to allow a Mingo devij 
 to get his stand so near, with manifest signs of 
 bloodshed in his heart.” 
 
 “ See,” interrupted Jasper — “ there is the body 
 of the Indian the Delaware shot ! It has drifted 
 on a rock, and the current has forced the head 
 and face above the water.” 
 
 “ Quite likely, boy ; quite likely. Human na. 
 tur’ is little better than a log of drift-wood, when 
 the life that was breathed into its nostrils has de- 
 parted. That Iroquois will never harm any on6 
 more ; but yonder skulking savage is bent 
 on taking the scalp of my best and most tried 
 friend — •” 
 
 The Pathfinder suddenly interrupted himself, 
 by raising his rifle, a weapon of unusual length, 
 with admirable precision, and firing the instant it 
 got its level. The Iroquois on the opposite shore 
 was in the act of aiming when the fatal messenger 
 from Killdeer arrived. His rifle was discharged, 
 it is true, but it was with the muzzle in the air, 
 while the man himself plunged into the bushes, 
 quite evidently hurt, if not slain. 
 
 “ The skulking riptyle brought it on himself,” 
 muttered Pathfinder, sternly, as, dropping tha 
 
CHINGACHGOOK’S STRATAGEM. 
 
 35 
 
 orccch of his rifle, he carefully commenced re- 
 loading it. “ Chingachgook and I have consorted 
 together since we were boys, and have fou’t in 
 company, on the Horican, the Mohawk, the On- 
 tario, and all the other bloody passes atween the 
 country of the Frenchers and our own ; and did 
 the foolish knave believe that I would stand by 
 cad see my best friend cut off in an ambush- 
 oacnt ! ” 
 
 “We have served the Serpent as good a turn 
 as he served us. Those rascals are troubled, 
 Pathfinder, and are falling back into their covers, 
 since they find we can reach them across the 
 
 river.” 
 
 “ The shot is no great matter, Jasper — no 
 great matter. Ask any of the 60th, and they can 
 tell you what Killdeer can do, and has done, and 
 that too when the bullets were flying about our 
 heads like hailstones. No — no — this is no great 
 matter, and the onthoughtful vagabond drew it 
 down on himself.” 
 
 “ Is that a dog, or a deer, swimming toward 
 this shore ? ” 
 
 Pathfinder started, for, sure enough, an ob- 
 ject was crossing the stream above the rift, tow- 
 ard which, however, it was gradually setting by 
 the force of the current. A second look satisfied 
 both the observers that it was a man, and an In- 
 dian, though so concealed as at first to render it 
 doubtful. Some stratagem was apprehended, and 
 the closest attention was given to the movements 
 of the stranger. 
 
 “ He is pushing something before him, as he 
 swims, and his head resembles a drifting bush ! ” 
 
 said Jasper. 
 
 “’Tis Injin deviltry, boy; but Christian hon- 
 esty shall sarcumvent his arts.” 
 
 As the man slowly approached, the observers 
 began to doubt the accuracy of their first im- 
 pressions, and it was only when two-thirds of the 
 stream were passed, that the truth was really 
 known. 
 
 “ The Big Sarpent, as I live ! ” exclaimed 
 Pathfinder, looking at his companion, and laugh- 
 ing until the tears came into his eyes with pure 
 delight at the success of the artifice. “ He has 
 tied bushes to his head so as to hide it, put the 
 horn on top, lashed the rifle to that bit of log he 
 is pushing before him, and has come over to join 
 his friends. Ah’s me ! The times and times that 
 he and I have cut such pranks, right in the teeth 
 of Mingoes raging for our blood, in the great 
 thoroughfare round and about Ty ! ” 
 
 “ It may not be the Serpent, after all, Path- 
 finder — I can see no feature that I remember.” 
 
 “ Featur’ ! Who looks for featur’s in an In- 
 
 jin? — No — no — boy; ’tis the paint that speaks, 
 — and none but a Delaware would wear that 
 paint. Them are his colors, Jasper, just as your 
 craft on the lake wears St. George’s cross, and 
 the Frenchers set their table-cloths to fluttering 
 in the wind, with all the stains of fish-bones and 
 venison-steaks upon them. Now, you see the 
 eye, lad, and it is the eye of a chief. But, Eau- 
 douce, fierce as it is in battle, and glassy as it 
 looks from among the leaves — ” here the Path- 
 finder laid his finger lightly but impressively on 
 his companion’s arm — “ I have seen it shed tears 
 like rain. There is a soul and a heart under that 
 red skin, rely on it ; although they are a soul and 
 a heart with gifts different from our own.” 
 
 “No one, who is acquainted with the chief, 
 ever doubted that.” 
 
 “ I know it,” returned the other, proudly, “ for 
 I have consorted with him in sorrow and in joy ; 
 in one I have found him a man, however stricken ; 
 in the other, a chief who knows that the women 
 of his tribe are the most seemly in light merri- 
 ment. But hist ! It is too much like the people 
 of the settlements to pour soft speeches into an- 
 other’s ear; and the Sarpent has keen senses. 
 He knows I love him, and that I speak well of 
 him behind his back ; but a Delaware has mod- 
 esty in his inmost natur’, though he will brag like 
 a sinner when tied to a stake.” 
 
 The Serpent now reached the shore, directly 
 in the front of his two comrades, with whose pre- 
 cise position he must have been acquainted be- 
 fore leaving the eastern side of the river, and ris- 
 ing from the water he shook himself like a dog 
 and made the usual exclamation — 
 
 “Hugh!” 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 ‘ These, as they change, Almighty Father, these 
 Are but the varied God.” 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 As the chief landed he was met by the Path- 
 finder, who addressed him in the language of the 
 warrior’s people. 
 
 “Was it well done, Chingachgook,” he said, 
 reproachfully, “ to ambush a dozen Mingoes alone ! 
 Killdeer seldom fails me, it is true ; but the Os- 
 wego makes a distant mark, and that miscreant 
 showed little more than his head and shoulders 
 above the bushes, and an onpractysed hand and 
 eye might have failed. You should have thought 
 of this, chief ; you should have thought of this ! ” 
 
 “ The Great Serpent is a Mohican warrior — he 
 sees only his enemies, when he is on the war-path, 
 
3 £ 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 and liis fathers have struck the Mingoes from be- 
 hind, since the waters began to run ! ” 
 
 “ I know your gifts — I know your gifts, and 
 respect them, too. No man shall hear me com- 
 plain that a red-skin obsarved red-skin natur’, 
 but prudence as much becomes a warrior as 
 valor ; and had not the Iroquois devils been look- 
 ing after their friends who were in the water, a 
 hot trail they would have made of yourn ! ” 
 
 “ What is the Delaware about to do ? ” ex- 
 claimed Jasper, who observed, at that moment, 
 that the chief suddenly left the Pathfinder, and 
 advanced to the water’s edge, apparently with an 
 intention of again entering the river. “ He will 
 not be so mad as to return to the other shore for 
 any trifle he may have forgotten ! ” 
 
 “ Not he — not he ; he is as prudent as he is 
 brave, in the main, though so forgetful of himself 
 in the late ambushment. Harkee, Jasper,” lead- 
 ing the other a little aside, just as they heard the 
 Indian’s plunge into the water — “harkee, lad; 
 Chingachgook is not a Christian white man, like 
 ourselves, but a Mohican chief, who has his gifts 
 and traditions to tell him what he ought to do ; 
 and he who consorts with them that are not 
 strictly and altogether of his own kind, had bet- 
 ter leave Natur’ and use to govern his comrades. 
 A king’s soldier will swear, and he will drink, and 
 it is of little use to try to prevent him ; a gentle- 
 man likes his delicacies, and a lady her feathers, 
 and it does not avail much to struggle ag’in 
 either ; whereas an Indian’s natur’ and gifts are 
 much stronger than these, and no doubt were be- 
 stowed by the Lord for wise ends, though neither 
 you nor me can follow them in all their wind- 
 ings.” 
 
 “ What does this mean ?— See, the Delaware 
 is swimming toward the body that is lodged on 
 the rock. Why does he risk this ? ” 
 
 “ For honor, and glory, and renown, as great 
 gentlemen quit their quiet homes, beyond seas, 
 where, as they tell me, heart has nothing left to 
 wish for, that is, such hearts as can be satisfied 
 in a clearin’, to come hither to live on game and 
 fight the Frenchers.” 
 
 “ I understand you— your friend has gone to 
 secure the scalp.” 
 
 “ ’Tis his gift, and let him enjoy it. We are 
 white men, and cannot mangle a dead enemy ; 
 but it is honor in the eyes of a red-skin to do so. 
 It may seem singular to you, Eau-douce, but I’ve 
 known white men of great name and character 
 manifest as remarkable ideas consarning their 
 honor, I have.” 
 
 “A savage will be a savage, Pathfinder, let 
 him keep what company he may.” 
 
 “ It is well for us to say so, lad ; but, as I tell 
 you, white honor will r.ot always conform to rea- 
 son, or to the will of God. I have passed days 
 •thinking of them matters, out in the silent woods, 
 and I have come to the opinion, boy, that, as 
 Providence rules all things, no gift is bestowed 
 without some wise and reasonable end. If Injino 
 are of no use, Injins would not have been cre- 
 ated ; and, I do suppose, could one dive to the 
 bottom of things, it would be found that even the 
 Mingo tribes were produced for some rational 
 and proper purpose, though I confess it surpasses 
 my means to say what it is.” 
 
 “ The Serpent greatly exposes himself to the 
 enemy, in order to get his scalp ! This may lose 
 us the day.” 
 
 “ Not in his mind, Jasper. That one scalp 
 has more honor in it, according to the Sarpent’s 
 notions of warfare, than a field covered with 
 slain, that kept the hair on their heads. Now, 
 there was the fine young captain of the 60th that 
 threw away his life in trying to bring off a three- 
 pounder from among the Frenchers in the last 
 scrimmage we had; he thought he was sarving 
 honor ; and I have known a young ensign wrap 
 himself up in his colors, and go to sleep in his 
 blood, fancying that he was lying on something 
 softer even than buffalo-skins ! ” 
 
 “Yes, yes; one can understand the merit of 
 not hauling down an ensign.” 
 
 “And these are Chingachgook’s colors — he 
 will keep them to show his children’s children — ”, 
 Here the Pathfinder interrupted himself, shook 
 his head in melancholy, and slowly added : “ Ah’s 
 me ! no shoot of the old Mohican stem remains ! 
 He has no children to delight with his trophies ; 
 no tribe to honor by his deeds ; he is a lone man 
 in this world, and yet he stands true to his train- 
 ing and his gifts ! There is something honest 
 and respectable in these, you must allow, Jasper ; . 
 yes, there is something decent in that.” 
 
 Here a great outcry from among the Iroquois 
 was succeeded by the quick reports of their rifles; 
 and so eager did the enemy become in the desire 
 to drive the Delaware back from his victim, that 
 a dozen rushed into the river, several of whom 
 even advanced near a hundred feet into the foam- 
 ing current, as if they actually meditated a serious 
 sortie. But Chingachgook continued as unmoved, 
 as he remained unhurt by the missiles, accom- 
 plishing his task with the dexterity of long habit. 
 Flourishing his reeking trophy, he gave the war-' 
 whoop in its most frightful intonations, and, for a 
 minute, the arches of the silent woods, and the 
 deep vista formed by the course of the river, 
 echoed with cries so terrific that Mabel bowed 
 
IN COUNCIL. 
 
 37 
 
 her head In irrepressible fear, while her uncle for 
 a single instant actually meditated flight. 
 
 “This surpasses all I have heard from the 
 wretches,” Jasper exclaimed, stopping his ears, 
 equally in horror and disgust. 
 
 “’Tis their music, boy ; their drum and fife ; 
 their trumpets and clarions. No doubc they love 
 them sounds, for they stir up in them fierce feel- 
 in’a and a desire for blood,” returned the Path- 
 finder, totally unmoved. “ I thought them rather 
 frightful when a mere youngster, but they have 
 got to be like the whistle of the whippoorwill, 
 or the song of the cat-bird, in my ear now. All 
 the screeching riptyles that could stand atween 
 the falls and the garrison, would have no effect 
 on my narves at this time of day. I say it not in 
 joasting, Jasper, for the man that lets in coward- 
 ice through the ears, must have but a weak heart, 
 at the best ; sounds and outcries being more in- 
 tended to alarm women and children than such 
 as scout the forest and face the foe. I hope the 
 Sarpent is now satisfied, for here he comes with 
 the scalp at his belt.” 
 
 Jasper turned away his head, as the Delaware 
 rose from the water, in pure disgust at his late 
 errand, but the Pathfinder regarded his friend 
 with the philosophical coolness of one who had 
 made up his mind to be indifferent to things he 
 deemed immaterial. As the Delaware passed 
 deeper into the bushes, with a view to wring his 
 trifling calico dress, and to prepare his rifle for 
 service, he gave one glance of triumph at his com- 
 panions, and then all emotion connected with the 
 recent exploit seemed to cease. 
 
 “Jasper,” resumed the guide — “step down 
 to the station of Master Cap and ask him to join 
 us : we have little time for a council, and yet our 
 plans must be laid quickly, for it will not be long 
 before them Mingoes will be plotting our ruin.” 
 
 The young man complied, and in a few min- 
 utes the four were assembled near the shore, com- 
 pletely concealed from the view of their enemies, 
 while they kept a vigilant watch over the pro- 
 ceedings of the latter, in order to consult on their 
 own future movements. 
 
 By this time the day had so far advanced as 
 to leave but a few minutes between the passing 
 light and an obscurity that promised to be even 
 deeper than common. The sun had already set, 
 and the twilight of a low latitude would soon pass 
 into the darkness of deep night. Most of the 
 hopes of the party rested on this favorable cir- 
 eumstance, though it was not without its dangers 
 Also, as the very obscurity which would favor 
 their escape would be as likely to conceal the 
 movements of their wily enemies. 
 
 “ The moment has come, men,” Pathfinder 
 commenced, “ when our plans must be coolly 
 laid, in order that we may act together, and with 
 a right understanding of our errand and gifts. 
 In an hour’s time, tfiese woods will be as dark a» 
 midnight, and, if we are ever to gain the garrison^ 
 it must be done under favor of this advantage 
 What say you, Master Cap ? For, though none 
 of the most exper’enced in combats and retreats 
 in the woods, your years entitle you to speak 
 first in a matter like this, and in a council.” 
 
 “ And my near relationship to Mabel, Path- 
 finder, ought to count for something — ” 
 
 “ I don’t know that — I don’t know that. Re- 
 gard is regard, and liking liking, whether it be a 
 gift of Natur’, or come from one’s own judgment 
 and inclinations. I will say nothing for the Sar- 
 pent, who is past placing his mind on the women ; 
 but as for Jasper and myself, we are as ready to 
 stand atween the sergeant’s daughter and the 
 Mingoes, as her own brave father himself could be. 
 — Do I say more than the truth, lad ? ” 
 
 “ Mabel may count on me to the last drop of 
 my blood,” said Jasper, speaking low, but with 
 intense feeling. 
 
 “Well, well,” rejoined the uncle, “we will 
 not discuss this matter, as all seem willing to 
 serve the girl, and deeds are better than words. 
 In my judgment, all we have to do is to go on 
 board the canoe, when it gets to be so dark the 
 enemy’s lookouts can’t see us, and run for the 
 haven as wind and tide will allow.” 
 
 “ That is easily said, but not so easily done,” 
 returned the guide, “We shall be more exposed 
 in the river than by following the woods, and then 
 there is the Oswego rift below us, and I am far 
 from sartain that Jasper himself can carry a boat 
 safely through it, in the dark. — What say you, lad, 
 as to your own skill and judgment ? ” 
 
 “ I am of Master Cap’s opinion about using the 
 canoe. Mabel is too tender to walk through 
 swamps, and among roots of trees, in such a night 
 as this premises to be, and then I always feel my- 
 self stouter of heart, and truer of eye, when afloat 
 than when ashore.” 
 
 “Stout of heart you always be, lad, and I 
 think tolerably true of eye for one who has lived 
 so much in broad sunshine, and so little in the 
 woods. Ah’s me ! the Ontario has no trees, or it 
 would be a plain to delight a hunter’s heart ! — As 
 to your opinion, friends, there is much for, and 
 much ag’inst it. For it, it may be said water 
 leaves no trail — ” 
 
 “ What do you call the wake ? ” interrupted 
 the pertinacious and dogmatical Cap. 
 
 “ Anan ? ” 
 
38 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ Go on,” said Jasper ; “ Master Cap thinks he 
 is on the ocean — water leaves no trail — ” 
 
 “ It leaves none, Eau-douce, hereaway, though 
 I do not pretend to say what it may leave on the 
 sea. Then a canoe is both swift and easy, when 
 it floats with the current, and the tender limbs of 
 the sergeant’s daughter will be favored by its mo- 
 tion. But, on the other hand, the river will have 
 qo cover but the clouds in the heavens, the rift is 
 a ticklish thing for boats to venture into, even by 
 daylight, and it is six fairly-measured miles, by wa- 
 ter, from this spot to the garrison. Then a trail 
 on land is not easy to be found in the dark. I 
 am troubled, Jasper, to say which way we ought 
 to counsel and advise.” 
 
 “ If the Serpent and myself could swim into 
 the river, and bring off the other canoe,” the 
 young sailor replied, “ it would seem to me that 
 our safest course would be the water.” 
 
 “ If, indeed ! and yet it might easily be done, 
 a3 soon as it is a little darker. Well, well, con- 
 sidering the sergeant’s daughter, and her gifts, I 
 am not sartain it will not be the best. Though, 
 were we only a party of men, it would be like a 
 hunt to the lusty and brave, to play at hide-and- 
 seek with yonder miscreants, on the other shore. 
 Jasper,” continued the guide, into whose character 
 there entered no ingredient that belonged to vain 
 display or theatrical effect, “ will you undertake to 
 bring in the canoe ? ” 
 
 “ I will undertake any thing that will serve and 
 protect Mabel, Pathfinder.” 
 
 “ That is an upright feeling, and I suppose it 
 is natur’. The Sarpent, who is nearly naked al- 
 ready, can help you, and this will be cutting off 
 one of the means of them devils to work their 
 harm.” 
 
 This material point being settled, the dfferent 
 members of the party prepared themselves to put 
 the project into execution. The shades of even- 
 ing fell fast upon the forest, and by the time all 
 was ready for the attempt, it was found impos- 
 sible to discern objects on the opposite shore. 
 Time now pressed, for Indian cunning could de- 
 vise so many expedients for passing so narrow a 
 stream, that the Pathfinder was getting impa- 
 tient to quit the spot. While Jasper and his 
 companion entered the river, armed with nothing 
 but their knives and the Delaware’s tomahawk, 
 observing the greatest caution not to betray their 
 movements, the guide brought Mabel from her 
 place of concealment, and, bidding her and Cap 
 proceed along the shore to the foot of the rap- 
 ids, he got into the canoe that remained in hi3 
 possession, in order to carry it to the same 
 place. 
 
 This was easily effected. The canoe was laid 
 against the bank, and Mabel and her uncle entered 
 it, taking their seats as usual ; while the Path- 
 finder, erect in the stern, held by a bush, in order 
 to prevent the swift stream from sweeping them 
 down its current. Several minutes of intense 
 and breathless expectation followed, while they 
 awaited the result of the bold attempt of their 
 comrades. 
 
 It will be understood that the two adventur- 
 ers were compelled to swim across a deep and 
 rapid channel, ere they could reach a part of the 
 rift that admitted of wading. This portion of the 
 enterprise was soon effected ; and Jasper and the 
 Serpent struck the bottom, side by side, at the 
 same instant. Having secured firm footing, they 
 took hold of each other’s hands, and waded slow- 
 ly and with extreme caution, in the supposed 
 direction of the canoe. But the darkness was 
 already so deep, that they soon ascertained they 
 were to be but little aided by the sense of sight, 
 and that their search must be conducted on that 
 species of instinct which enables the woodsman 
 to find his way, when the sun is hid, no stars 
 appear, and all would seem chaos to one less 
 accustomed to the mazes of the forest. Under 
 these circumstances, Jasper submitted to be 
 guided by the Delaware, whose habits best fitted 
 him to take the lead. Still it was no easy mat- 
 ter to wade amid the roaring element at that 
 hour, and retain a clear recollection of the locali- 
 ties. By the time they believed themselves to 
 be in the centre of the stream, the two shores 
 were discernible merely by masses of obscurity 
 denser than common, the outlines against the 
 clouds being barely distinguishable by the ragged 
 tops of the trees. Once or twice the wanderers 
 altered their course, in consequence of unex- 
 pectedly stepping into deep water, for they knew 
 that the boat had lodged on the shallowest part 
 of the rift. In short, with this fact for their 
 compass, Jasper and his companion wandered 
 about in the water for near a quarter of an hour, 
 and at the end of that period, which began to 
 appear interminable to the young man, they 
 found themselves apparently no nearer the object 
 of their search than they had been at its com- 
 mencement. Just as the Delaware was about to 
 stop, in order to inform his associate that they 
 would do well to return to the land, in order to 
 take a fresh departure, he saw the form of a man, 
 moving about in the water, almost within reach 
 of hi3 arm. Jasper was at his side, and he at 
 once understood that the Iroquois were engaged 
 on the same errand as he was himself. 
 
 “ Mingo ! ” he uttered in Jasper’s ear — “the 
 
FRIENDS AND FOES IN COMPANY. 
 
 39 
 
 Serpent will show his brother how to be cun- 
 ning.” 
 
 The young sailor caught a glimpse of the 
 figure at that instant, and the startling truth also 
 flashed on his mind. Understanding the neces- 
 sity of trusting all to the Delaware chief, he kept 
 back, while his friend moved cautiously in the 
 direction in which the strange form had van- 
 ished. In another moment, it was seen again, 
 evidently moving toward themselves. The wa- 
 ters made such an uproar, that little was to be 
 apprehended from ordinary sounds, and the In- 
 dian, turning his head, hastily said : 
 
 “ Leave it to the cunning of the great Ser- 
 pent.” 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” exclaimed the strange savage, add- 
 ing, in the language of his people — “ the canoe 
 is found, but there were none to help me. Come, 
 let us raise it from the rock.” 
 
 “ Willingly,” answered Chingachgook, who 
 understood the dialect — “ lead ; we will follow.” 
 
 The stranger, unable to distinguish between 
 voices and accents, amid the raging of the rapid, 
 led the way in the necessary direction, and, the 
 two others keeping close at his heels, all three 
 speedily reached the canoe. The Iroquois laid 
 hold of one end, Chingachgook placed himself in 
 the centre, and Jasper went to the opposite ex- 
 tremity, as it was important that the stranger 
 should not detect the presence of a pale-face, a 
 discovery that might be made, by the parts of 
 the dress the young man still wore, as well as by 
 the general appearance of his head. 
 
 “Lift,” said the Iroquois, in the sententious 
 manner of his race ; and by a trifling effort the 
 canoe was raised from the rock, held a moment 
 in the air to empty it, and then placed carefully 
 on the water, in its proper position. All three 
 held it firmly, lest it should escape from their 
 hands, under the pressure of the violent current ; 
 while the Iroquois, who led of course, being at 
 the upper end of the boat, took the direction of 
 the eastern shore, or toward the spot where his 
 friends waited his return. 
 
 As the Delaware and Jasper well knew, there 
 must be several more of the Iroquois on the rift, 
 from the circumstance that their own appearance 
 had occasioned no surprise in the individual they 
 had met, both felt the necessity of extreme cau- 
 tion. Men less bold and determined would have 
 thought that they were incurring too great a risk, 
 by thus venturing into the midst of their ene- 
 mies; but these hardy borderers were unac- 
 quainted with fear, were accustomed to hazard, 
 and so well understood the necessity of at least 
 Preventing their foes from getting the boat, that 
 
 they would have cheerfully encountered even 
 greater risks to secure their object. So all-im- 
 portant to the safety of Mabel, indeed, did Jasper 
 deem the possession or the destruction of this ca- 
 noe, that he had drawn his knife, and stood ready 
 to rip up the bark, in order to render the boat 
 temporarily unserviceable, should anything occur 
 to compel the Delaware and himself to abandon 
 their prize. 
 
 In the mean time, the Iroquois, who led the 
 way, proceeded slowly through the water in the 
 direction of his own party, still grasping the ca 
 noe, and dragging his reluctant followers in his 
 train. Once, Chingachgook raised his tomahawk 
 and was about to bury it in the brain of his con- 
 fiding and unsuspicious neighbor, but the prob- 
 ability that the death-cry or the floating body 
 might give the alarm, induced that wary chief to 
 change his purpose. At the next moment he 
 regretted this indecision, for the three who clung 
 to the canoe suddenly found themselves in the 
 centre of a party of no less than four others who 
 were in quest of it. 
 
 After the usual brief, characteristic exclama- 
 tions of satisfaction, the savages eagerly laid hold 
 of the canoe, for all seemed impressed with the 
 necessity of securing this important boat, the one 
 side in order to assail their foes, and the other to 
 secure their retreat. The addition to the party, 
 however, was so unlooked for, and so completely 
 gave the enemy the superiority, that, for a few 
 moments, the ingenuity and address of even the 
 Delaware were at fault. The five Iroquois, who 
 seemed perfectly to understand their errand, 
 pressed forward toward their own shore, without 
 pausing to converse ; their object being in truth 
 to obtain the paddles, which they had previously 
 secured, and to embark three or four warriors, 
 with all their rifles and powder-horns, the want 
 of which had alone prevented their crossing the 
 river by swimming as soon as it was dark. 
 
 In this matter, the body of friends and foes 
 united reached the margin of the eastern channel, 
 where, as in the case of the western, the river 
 was too deep to be waded. Here a short pause 
 succeeded, it being necessary to determine the 
 manner in ■which the canoe was to be carried 
 across. One of the four who had just reached 
 the boat, was a chief, and the habitual deference 
 which the American Indian pays to merit, experi- 
 ence, and station, kept the others silent until this 
 individual had spoken. 
 
 The halt greatly added to the danger of dis- 
 covering the presence of Jasper, in particular, 
 who, however, had the precaution to throw the 
 cap he wore into the bottom of the canoe. Be 
 
40 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 fog without his jacket and shirt, the outline of 
 his figure, in the obscurity, would now be less 
 likely to attract observation. His position, too, 
 at the stern of the canoe, a little favored his con- 
 cealment, the Iroquois naturally keeping their 
 looks directed the other way. Not so with Chin- 
 gachgook. This warrior was literally in the midst 
 of his most deadly foes, and he could scarcely 
 stir without touching one of them. Yet he was 
 apparently unmoved, though he kept all his 
 senses on the alert, in readiness to escape, or to 
 strike a blow at the proper moment. By care- 
 fully abstaining from looking toward those be- 
 hind him, he lessened the chances of discovery, 
 and waited with the indomitable patience of an 
 Indian for the instant when he should be re- 
 quired to act. 
 
 “Let all my young men, but two, one at each 
 end of the canoe, cross and get their arms,” said 
 the Iroquois chief. “ Let the two push over the 
 boat.” 
 
 The Indians quietly obeyed, leaving Jasper at 
 the stern, and the Iroquois who had found the 
 canoe at the bow of the light craft, Chingach- 
 gook burying himself so deep in the river, as to 
 be passed by the others without detection. The 
 splashing in the water, the tossing arms, and the 
 calls of one to another, soon announced that the 
 four -who had last joined the party were already 
 swimming. As soon as this fact was certain, the 
 Delaware rose, resumed his former station, and 
 began to think the moment for action was come. 
 
 One less habitually under self-restraint than 
 this warrior would probably have now aimed his 
 meditated blow ; but Chingachgook knew there 
 were more Iroquois behind him on the rift, and 
 be was a warrior much too trained and experi- 
 enced to risk any thing unnecessarily. He suf- 
 fered the Indian at the bow of the canoe to push 
 off into the deep water, and then all three were 
 swimming in the direction of the easteim shore. 
 Instead, however, of helping the canoe across 
 the swift current, no sooner did the Delaware 
 and Jasper find themselves within the influence 
 of its greatest force, than both began to swim in 
 a way to check their further progress across the 
 stream. Nor was this done suddenly, or in the 
 incautious manner in which a civilized man would 
 have been apt to attempt the artifice, but warily 
 and so gradually that the Iroquois at the bow 
 fancied at first he was merely struggling against 
 the strength of the current. Of course, while 
 acted on by these opposing efforts, the canoe 
 drifted down-stream, and in about a minute it 
 was floating in still deeper water at the foot of 
 the rift. Here, however, the Iroquois was not 
 
 slow in finding that something unusual retarded 
 their advance, and looking back he first learned 
 that he was resisted by the efforts of his compan- 
 ions. 
 
 That second nature, which grows up through 
 habit, instantly told the young Iroquois that he 
 was alone with enemies. Dashing the watear 
 aside, he sprang at the throat of Chingachgook, 
 and the two Indians, relinquishing their hold of 
 the canoe, seized each other like tigers. In the 
 midst of the darkness of that gloomy night, and 
 floating in an element so dangerous to man, when 
 engaged in deadly strife, they appeared to forget 
 every thing but their fell animosity, and their 
 mutual desire to conquer. 
 
 Jasper had now complete command of the ca- 
 noe, which flew off like a feather impelled by the 
 breath, under the violent reaction of the strug- 
 gles of the two combatants. The first impulse of 
 the youth was to swim to the aid of the Delaware, 
 but the importance of securing the boat presented 
 itself with tenfold force, while he listened to the 
 heavy breathings of the warriors as they throt- 
 tled each other, and he proceeded as fast as pos- 
 sible toward the western shore. This he soon 
 reached, and, after a short search, he succeeded 
 in discovering the remainder of the party, and in 
 procuring his clothes. A few words sufficed to 
 explain the situation in which he had left the 
 Delaware, and the manner in which the canoe had 
 been obtained. 
 
 When those who had been left behind had 
 heard the explanations of Jasper, a profound 
 stillness reigned among them, each listening in- 
 tently in the vain hope of catching some clew to 
 the result of the fearful struggle that had just 
 taken place, if it were not still going on in the 
 water. Nothing was audible beyond the steady 
 roar of the gushing river; it being a part of the 
 policy of their enemies on the opposite shore to 
 observe the most death-like stillness. 
 
 “ Take this paddle, Jasper,” said Pathfinder, 
 calmly, though the listeners thought his voico 
 sounded more melancholy than usual, “ and fol- 
 low with your own canoe. It is unsafe for us to 
 remain here longer.” 
 
 “ But the Serpent ? V 
 
 “ The Great Sarpent is in the hands of his 
 own Deity, and will live or die according to the 
 intentions of Providence. We can do him no 
 good, and may risk too much by remaining here 
 in idleness, like women talking over their dis- 
 tresses. This darkness is very precious — ” 
 
 A loud, long, piercing yell came from the 
 shore, and cut short the words of the guide. 
 
 “ What is the meaning of that uproar, Maste« 
 
MABEL’S EXCITEMENT. 
 
 41 
 
 Pathfinder ? ” demanded Cap. “ It sounds more 
 like the outcries of devils than any thing that 
 can come from the throats of Christians and 
 men.” 
 
 “ Christians they are not, and do not pretend 
 to be, and do not wish to be ; and in calling them 
 devils you have scarcely misnamed them. That 
 yell is one of rejoicing, and it is as conquerors 
 they have given it. The body of the Sarpent, no 
 doubt, dead or alive, is in their power ! ” 
 
 “And we!” exclaimed Jasper, who felt a 
 pang of generous regret, as the idea that he might 
 have averted the calamity presented itself to his 
 mind, had he not deserted his comrade. 
 
 “ We can do the chief no good, lad, and must 
 quit this spot as fast as possible.” 
 
 “ Without one attempt to rescue him ! — with- 
 out even knowing whether he be dead or liv- 
 ing?” 
 
 “Jasper is right,” said Mabel, who could 
 speak, though her voice sounded huskily and 
 smothered ; “ I have no fears, uncle, and will 
 6tay here until we know what has become of our 
 friend.” 
 
 “ This seems reasonable, Pathfinder,” put in 
 Cap. “ Your true seaman cannot well desert a 
 messmate; and I am glad to find that motives 
 so correct exist among those fresh-water peo- 
 ple.” 
 
 “ Tut — tut ! ” returned the impatient guide, 
 forcing the canoe into the stream as he spoke, 
 u ye know nothing, and ye fear nothing. If ye 
 value your lives, think of reaching the garrison, 
 and leave the Delaware in the hands of Provi- 
 dence. Ah’s me 1 The deer that goes too often 
 to the lick meets the hunter at last ! ” 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 “And is this — Yarrow? — this the stream 
 Of which my fancy cherished 
 So faithfully a waking dream ? 
 
 An image that hath perished ? 
 
 Oh, that some minstrel’s harp were near, 
 
 To utter notes of gladness, 
 
 And chase this silence from the air, 
 
 That fills my heart with sadness 1 ” 
 
 "WORDSWORTH. 
 
 Tnn scene was not without sublimity ; and 
 the ardent, generous-minded Mabel felt her blood 
 thrill in her veins, and her cheeks flush, as the 
 tanoe shot into the strength of the stream to quit 
 'die spot. The darkness of the night had lessened 
 V the dispersion of the clouds ; but the over- 
 hanging woods rendered the shores so obscure 
 
 that the boats floated down the current in a belt 
 of gloom that effectually secured them from de- 
 tection. Still there was necessarily a strong feel- 
 ing of insecurity in all on board them ; and even 
 Jasper, who by this time began to tremble in be- 
 half of the girl, at every unusual sound that arose 
 from the forest, kept casting uneasy glances 
 around him, as he drifted on, in company. The 
 paddle was used lightly, and only with exceeding 
 care, for the slightest sound, in the breathing 
 stillness of that hour and place, might apprise 
 the watchful cars of the Iroquois of their posi- 
 tion. 
 
 All the accessories added to the impressive 
 grandeur of her situation, and contributed to ren- 
 der the moment much the most exciting that had 
 ever occurred in the brief existence of Mabel 
 Dunham. Spirited, accustomed to self-reliance, 
 and sustained by the pride of considering herself 
 a soldier’s daughter, she could hardly be said to 
 be under the influence of fear ; yet her heart of- 
 ten beat quicker than common, her fine blue eye 
 lighted with an exhibition of a resolution that 
 was wasted in the darkness, and her quickened 
 feelings came in aid of the real sublimity that 
 belonged to the scene, and to the incidents of the 
 night. 
 
 “ Mabel ! ” said the suppressed voice of Jasper, 
 as the two canoes floated so near each other that 
 the hand of the young man held them together, 
 “ you have no dread, you trust freely to our care, 
 and willingness to protect you ? ” 
 
 “I am a soldier’s daughter, as you know, 
 Jasper Western, and ought to be ashamed to con- 
 fess fear.” 
 
 “ Rely on me — on us all. Your uncle, Path- 
 finder, the Delaware, were the poor fellow here, I 
 myself, will risk every thing rather than harm 
 should reach you.” 
 
 “ I believe you, Jasper,” returned the girl, her 
 hand unconsciously playing in the water. “ I 
 know that my uncle loves me, and will never 
 think of himself until he has first thought of me ; 
 and I believe you are all my father’s friends, and 
 would willingly assist his child. But I am not so 
 feeble and weak-minded as you may think, for 
 though only a girl from the towns, and, like most 
 of that class, a little disposed to see danger where 
 there is none, I promise you, Jasper, no foolish 
 fears of mine shall stand in the way of your doing 
 your duty.” 
 
 “ The sergeant’s daughter is right, and she is 
 worthy of being honest Thomas Dunham’s child,” 
 put in the Pathfinder. “Ah’s me! pretty one, 
 many is the time that your father and I have 
 scouted and marched together on the flanks and 
 
42 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 rear of the enemy, in nights darker than this, and 
 that, too, when we d^d not know but the next 
 moment would lead us into a bloody ambushment. 
 I was at his side when he got the wound in his 
 shoulder, and the honest fellow will tell you, when 
 you meet the manner in which we contrived to 
 cross the river that lay in our rear, in order to 
 save his scalp.” 
 
 “He has told me,” said Mabel, with more 
 energy perhaps than her situation rendered pru- 
 dent. “ I have his letters, in which he has men- 
 tioned all that, and I thank you from the bottom 
 of my heart for the service. God will remember 
 it, Pathfinder ; and there is no gratitude that you 
 can ask of the daughter, which she will not cheer- 
 fully repay for her father’s life.” 
 
 “ Ay, that is the way with all your gentle and 
 pure-hearted creatur’s ! I have seen some of you 
 before, and have heard of others ! The sergeant, 
 himself, has talked to me of his own young days ; 
 and of your mother, and of the manner in which 
 he courted her, and of all the crossings and dis- 
 app’intments, until he succeeded at last.” 
 
 “ My mother did not live long to repay him 
 for what he did to win her,” said Mabel, with a 
 trembling lip. 
 
 “So he tells me. The honest sergeant has 
 kept nothing back, for, being so many years my 
 senior, he has looked on me, in our many scout- 
 ings together, as a sort of son.” 
 
 “ Perhaps, Pathfinder,” observed Jasper, with 
 a huskiness in his voice that defeated the attempt 
 at pleasantry, “ he would be glad to have you for 
 one, in reality.” 
 
 “ And if he did, Eau-douce, where would be 
 the sin of it ? He knows what I am on a trail, 
 or a scout, and he has seen me often face to face 
 with the Frenchers.' I have sometimes thought, 
 lad, that we all ought to seek for wives ; for the 
 man that lives altogether in the woods, and in 
 company with his inemies, or his prey, gets to 
 lose some of the feelin’ of kind, in the end.” 
 
 “ From the specimen I have seen,” observed 
 Mabel, “I should say that they who live much in 
 the forest forget to learn many of the deceits and 
 vices of the towns.” 
 
 “ It is not easy, Mabel, to dwell always in the 
 presence of God, and not feel the power of his 
 goodness. I have attended church-sarvice in the 
 garrisons, and tried hard, as becomes a true sol- 
 dier, to join in the prayers ; for, though no enlisted 
 sarvant of the king, I fight his battles and sarve 
 his cause — and so I have ende’vored to worship 
 garrison-fashion, but never could raise within me 
 the solemn feelings and true affection that I feel 
 frhen alone with God in the forest. There I seem 
 
 to stand face to face with my Master ; all around 
 me is fresh and beautiful, as it came from his 
 hand; and there is no nicety or doctrine to chill 
 the feelin’s. No, no ; the woods are the true 
 temple, a’ter all, for there the thoughts are free 
 to mount higher even than the clouds.” 
 
 “You speak the truth, Master Pathfinder,” 
 said Cap, “ and a truth that all who live much in 
 solitude know. What, for instance, is the reason 
 that seafaring men, in general, are so religious 
 and conscientious in all they do, but the fact that 
 they are so often alone with Providence, and have 
 so little to do with the wickedness of the land ! 
 Many and many is the time that I have stood my 
 watch, under the equator perhaps, or in the South- 
 ern Ocean, when the nights are lighted up with 
 the fires of heaven ; and that is the time, I can 
 tell you, my hearties, to bring a man to his bear- 
 ings, in the way of his sins. I have rattled down 
 mine, again and again, under such circumstances, 
 until the shrouds and lanyards of conscience 
 have fairly creaked with the strain. I agree with 
 you, Master Pathfinder, therefore, in saying if 
 you want a truly religious man, go to sea, or go 
 into the woods.” 
 
 “ Uncle, I thought seamen had little credit^ 
 generally, for their respect for religion.” 
 
 “ All d d slander, girl ! Ask your seafar- 
 
 ing man what his real, private opinion is of your 
 landsmen, parsons and all, and you will hear the 
 other side of the question. I know no class of 
 men who have been so belied as seafaring men, 
 in this particular ; and it is all because they dc 
 not stay at home to defend themselves, and pay 
 the clergy. They haven’t as much doctrine, per- 
 haps, as some ashore, but as for all the essentials 
 of Christianity, the seaman beats the landsman, 
 hand-over-hand.” 
 
 “ I will not answer for all this, Master Cap,” 
 returned Pathfinder, “ but I dare say some of it 
 may be true. I want no thunder and lightning 
 to remind me of my God, nor am I as apt to be- 
 think me most of all his goodness, in trouble and 
 tribulations, as on a calm, solemn, quiet day, in a 
 forest, when his voice is heard in the creaking of 
 a dead branch, or in the song of a bird, as much, 
 in my ears at least, as it is ever heard in up 
 roar and gales. — How is it with you, Eau-douce 
 you face the tempests as well as Master Cap, 
 and ought to know something of the feelin’s of 
 storms ? ” 
 
 “ I fear that I am too young and too inexpert 
 enced, to be able to say much on such a subject,’ 
 modestly answered Jasper. 
 
 “ But you have your feelings ? ” said Mabel, 
 quickly. “You cannot — no one can live amon^ 
 
A DESULTORY CONVERSATION. 
 
 43 
 
 »uch scenes without feeling how much they ought 
 to trust in God ! ” 
 
 “ I shall not belie my training so much as to 
 say I do not sometimes think of these things, but 
 I fear it is not as often or as much as I ought.” 
 
 “ Eresh water ! ” resumed Cap, pithily ; “ you 
 are not to expect too much of the young man, 
 Mabel. I think they call you, sometimes, by a 
 name which would insinuate all this. Eau-de-vie, 
 is it not ? ” 
 
 “Eau-douce,” quietly replied Jasper, who 
 from sailing on the lake had acquired a knowl- 
 edge of French, as well as of several of the Indian 
 dialects. “ It is a name the Iroquois have given 
 me to distinguish me from some of my companions 
 who once sailed upon the sea, and are fond of 
 filling the ears of the natives with stories of their 
 great salt-water lakes.” 
 
 “ And why shouldn’t they ? I dare say they 
 do the savages no harm. They may not civilize 
 them, but they will not make them greater bar- 
 barians than they are. Ay — ay — Oh ! the deuce, 
 that must mean the white brandy, which is no 
 great matter after all, and may well enough be 
 called the deuce, for deuced stuff it is ! ” 
 
 “ The signification of Eau-douce is sweet- 
 water, or water that can be drunk, and it is the 
 manner in which the French express fresh-water,” 
 rejoined Jasper, a little nettled at the distinction 
 made by Cap, although the latter was the uncle 
 of Mabel. 
 
 “ And how the devil do they make water out 
 of Oh ! the deuce, when it means brandy in Eau- 
 de-vie ? This may be the French used hereaway, 
 but it is not that they use in Burdux and other 
 French ports ; besides, among seamen Eau always 
 means brandy, and Eau-de-vie, brandy of a high 
 proof. I think nothing of your ignorance, young 
 man, for it is natural to your situation, and can- 
 not be helped. If you will return with me, and 
 make a v’y’ge or two on the Atlantic, it will serve 
 you a good turn the remainder of your days, and 
 Mabel, there, and all the other young w r omen near 
 the coast, will think all the better of you, should 
 you live to be as old as one of the trees in this 
 forest.” 
 
 “Nay, nay,” interrupted the single-hearted 
 and generous guide, “ Jasper wants not for fri’nds 
 in this region, I can assure you ; and though see- 
 ng the world, according to his habits, may do 
 him good as well as another, we shall think none 
 the worse of him if he never quits us. Eau-douce, 
 or Eau-de-vie, he is a brave, true-hearted youth, 
 and I always sleep as sound when he is on the 
 ttatch as if I was up and stirring myself; ay, and 
 for that matter, sounder too. The sergeant’s | 
 
 daughter, here, doesn’t believe it necessary for 
 the lad to go to sea in order to make a man of 
 him, or one who is worthy to be respected and 
 esteemed.” 
 
 Mabel made no reply to this appeal, and sho 
 even looked toward the western shore, although 
 the darkness rendered the natural movement un- 
 necessary to conceal her face. But Jasper felt 
 that there was a necessity for his saying some- 
 thing ; the pride of youth and manhood revolting 
 at the idea of his being in a condition not to com- 
 mand the respect of his fellows, or the smiles of 
 his equals of the other sex. Still he was unwilling 
 to utter aught that might be considered harsh, to 
 the uncle of Mabel ; and his self-command was, 
 perhaps, more creditable than his modesty and 
 spirit. 
 
 “ I pretend not to things I don’t possess,” he 
 said, “ and lay no claim to any knowledge of the 
 ocean, or of navigation. We steer by the stars 
 and the compass on these lakes, running from 
 headland to headland, and, having little need of 
 figures and calculations, make no use of them. 
 But we have our claims, notwithstanding, as I 
 have often heard from those who have passed 
 years on the ocean. In the first place, we have 
 always the land aboard, and much of the time on 
 a lee shore, and that I have frequently heard 
 makes hardy sailors. Our gales are sudden and 
 severe, and we are compelled to run for our ports 
 at all hours — ” 
 
 “ You have your leads,” interrupted Cap. 
 
 “ They are of little use, and are seldom cast.” 
 
 “ The deep seas — ” 
 
 “I have heard of such things, but confess I 
 never saw one.” 
 
 “ Oh ! the deuce, with a vengeance. A trad- 
 er, and no deep sea ! Why, boy, you cannot pre- 
 tend to be any thing of a mariner. Who the 
 devil ever heard of a seaman without his deep 
 sea ? ” 
 
 “I do not pretend to any particular skill 
 Master Cap — ” 
 
 “ Except in shooting falls, Jasper ; except in 
 shooting falls and rifts,” said Pathfinder, coming 
 to the rescue ; “ in which business even you, Mas 
 ter Cap, must allow he has some handiness. Id 
 my judgment, every man is to be esteemed 01 
 condemned according to his gifts ; and if Mastei 
 Cap is useless in running the Oswego falls, I trj 
 to remember that he is useful when out of sight 
 of land ; and if Jasper be useless when out of 
 sight of land, I do not forget that he has a trus 
 eye and steady hand when running the falls.” 
 
 “ But Jasper is not useless — would not be use- 
 less when out of sight of land,” said Mabel, with 
 
u 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 a spirit and energy that caused her clear, sweet 
 voice to be startling amid the solemn stillness of 
 that extraordinary scene. “ No one can be use- 
 less there who can do so much here, is what I 
 mean ; though I dare say he is not as well ac- 
 quainted with ships as my uncle.” 
 
 “ Ay, bolster each other up in your ignrjrance,” 
 ?©tumed Cap, with a sneer ; “ we seamen are so 
 much outnumbered when ashore that it is seldom 
 we get our dues ; but when you want to be de- 
 fended, or trade is to be carried on, there is out- 
 cry enough for us.” 
 
 “ But, uncle, landsmen do not come to attack 
 our coasts ; so that seamen only meet seamen.” 
 
 “ So much for ignoi’ance ! — Where are all the 
 enemies that have landed in this country, French 
 and English ; let me inquire, niece ? ” 
 
 “ Sure enough, where are they ? ” ejaculated 
 Pathfinder. “ None can tell better than we who 
 dwell in the woods, Master Cap. I have often 
 followed their line of march by bones bleaching 
 in the rain, and have found their trail by graves 
 years after they and their pride had vanished to- 
 gether. Ginyrals and privates, they lay scattered 
 throughout the land, so many proofs of what men 
 are when led on by their love of great names, and 
 the wish to be more than their fellows.” 
 
 “I must say, Master Pathfinder, that you 
 sometimes utter opinions that are a little remark- 
 able for a man who lives by the rifle; seldom 
 snuffing the air but he smells gunpowder, or turn- 
 ing out of his berth but to bear down on an en- 
 emy.” 
 
 “ If you think I pass my days in warfare 
 against my kind, you know neither me nor my 
 history. The man that lives in the woods and on 
 the frontiers, must take the chances of the things 
 among which he dwells. For this I am not ac- 
 countable, being but an humble and powerless 
 hunter, and scout, and guide. My real calling is 
 to hunt for the army on its marches, and in times 
 of peace ; although I am more especially engaged 
 in the service of one officer, who is now absent in 
 the settlements, where I never follow him. No — 
 n0 — bloodshed and warfare are not my real gifts, 
 but peace and raarcv. Still, I must face the en- 
 emy as well as another, and as for a Mingo, I look 
 upon him as man looks on a snake — a creatur’ 
 to be put beneath the heel whenever a fitting oc- 
 casion offers.” 
 
 “Well, well — I have mistaken your calling, 
 which I had thought as regularly warlike as that 
 of a ship’s gunner. There is my brother-in-law, 
 now ; he has been a soldier since he was sixteen, 
 and he looks upon his trade as every way as re- 
 spectable as that of a seafaring man, which is a 
 
 point I hardly think it worth while to dispute with 
 him.” 
 
 “ My father has been taught to believe that it 
 is honorable to carry arms,” said Mabel, “ for his 
 father was a soldier before him.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” resumed the guide, “ most of the 
 sergeant’s gifts are martial, and he looks at most 
 things in this world over the barrel of his mus- 
 ket. One of his notions, now, is to prefar a king’s 
 piece to a regular double-sighted, long-barrelled 
 rifle. Such consaits will come over men from 
 long habit; and prejudice is perhaps the com- 
 monest failing of human natur’.” 
 
 “ Ashore, I grant you,” said Cap. “ I never re- 
 turn from a v’v’ge but I make the very same remark. 
 Now, the last time I came in, I found scarcely a 
 man in all York who would think of matters and 
 things in general as I thought about them myself. 
 Every man 1 met appeared to have bowsed all his 
 idees up into the wind’s eye, and when he did 
 fall off a little from his one-sided notions, it was 
 commonly to ware short round on his heel, and to 
 lay up as close as ever on the other tack.” 
 
 “Do you understand this, Jasper?” th<« 
 smiling Mabel half-whispered to the young man, 
 who still kept his own canoe so near as to be 
 close at her side. 
 
 “There is not so much difference between 
 salt and fresh water that we who pass our time 
 on them cannot comprehend each other. It is no 
 great merit, Mabel, to understand the language 
 of our trade.” 
 
 “ Even religion,” continued Cap, “ isn’t 
 moored in exactly the same place it was in my 
 young days. They veer and haul upon it ashore, 
 as they do on all other things, and it is no wonder 
 if now and then they get jammed. Every thing 
 seems to change but the compass, and even that 
 has its variations.” 
 
 “Well,” returned the Pathfinder, “I thought 
 Christianity and the compass both pretty station 
 ary.” 
 
 “ So they are, afloat, bating the variations. 
 Religion at sea is just the same thing to-day that 
 it was when I first put my hand into the tar- 
 bucket. No one will dispute it who has the fear 
 of God before his eyes. I can see no difference 
 between the state of religion on board ship now, 
 and what it was when I was a younker. But it 
 is not so ashore by any means. Take my word 
 for it, Master Pathfinder, it is a difficult thing to 
 find a man — I mean a landsman — who views these 
 matters to-day exactly as he looked at them forty 
 years ago.” 
 
 “ And yet God is unchanged — his works are 
 unchanged — his holy word is unchanged, and all 
 
ANOTHER ALARM. 
 
 45 
 
 that ought to bless and honor nis name, should 
 be unchanged too ! ” 
 
 “ Not ashore. That is the worst of the land ; 
 it is all the while in motion, I tell you, though it 
 looks so solid. If you plant a tree, and leave it 
 on your return from a three-years’ v’y’ge, you 
 don’t find it at all the sort of thing you left it. 
 The towns grow, and new streets spring up 
 the wharves are altered ; and the whole face of 
 the earth undergoes change. Now a ship comes 
 back from an India v’y’ge just the thing she 
 sailed, bating the want of paint, wear and tear,- 
 and the accidents of the sea.” 
 
 “ That is too true, Master Cap, and more’s the 
 pity. Ah’s me ! — the things they call improve- 
 ments and betterments are undermining and 
 defacing the land ! The glorious works of God 
 are daily cut down and destroyed, and the hand 
 of man seems to be upraised in contempt of his 
 mighty will. They tell me there are fearful signs 
 of what we may all come to, to be met with west 
 and south of the great lakes, though I have never 
 yet visited that region ! ” 
 
 “ What do you mean, Pathfinder ? ” modestly 
 inquired Jasper. 
 
 “ I mean the spots marked by the vengeance of 
 Heaven, or which, perhaps, have been raised up 
 as solemn warnings to the thoughtless and waste- 
 ful, hereaway. They call them prairies ; and I 
 have heard as honest Delawares as I ever knew, 
 declare that the finger of God has been laid so 
 heavily on them, that they are altogether without 
 trees. This is an awful visitation to befall inno- 
 cent ’arth, and can only mean to show to what 
 frightful consequences a heedless desire to destroy 
 may lead.” 
 
 “And yet I have seen settlers who have much 
 fancied these open spots, because they saved them 
 the toil of clearing. You relish your bread, Path- 
 finder, and yet wheat will not ripen in the shade.” 
 
 “ But honesty will, and simple wishes, and a 
 love of God, Jasper. Even Master Cap will tell 
 you a treeless plain must resemble a desert isl- 
 and.” 
 
 “ Why, that’s as it may be,” put in Cap. “ Des- 
 ert islands, too, have their uses, for they serve 
 to correct the reckonings by. If my taste is con- 
 sulted, I should never quarrel with a plain for 
 wanting trees. As Nature has given a man eyes 
 to look about with, and a sun to shine, were it 
 not for ship-building, and now and then a house, I 
 can see no great use in a tree ; especially one that 
 don’t bear monkeys or fruit.” 
 
 To this remark the guide made no answer, 
 Deyond a low sound, intended to enjoin silence on 
 his companions. While tie desultory conversa- 
 
 tion just related had been carried on in subdued 
 voices, the canoes were dropping slowly down 
 with the current, within the deep shadows of the 
 western shore, the paddles being used merely to 
 preserve the desired direction and proper positions. 
 The strength of the stream varied materially, the 
 water being seemingly still in places, while ia 
 other reaches it flowed at a rate exceeding two 
 or even three miles in the hour. On the rifts it 
 even dashed forward with a velocity that was ap- 
 palling to the unpractised eye. Jasper was of 
 opinion that they might drift down with the cur- 
 rent to the mouth of the river in two hours from 
 the time they left the .shore, and he and the Path- 
 finder had agreed on the expediency of suffering 
 the canoes to float of themselves for a time, or at 
 least until they had passed the first dangers of 
 their new movement. The dialogue had been 
 carried on in voices, too, guardedly low; for, 
 though the quiet of deep solitude reigned in that 
 vast and nearly boundless forest, Nature was speak- 
 ing with her thousand tongues, in the eloquent 
 language of night in a wilderness. The air sighed 
 through ten thousand trees, the water rippled, and, 
 at places, even roared along the shores ; and now 
 and then was heard the creaking of a branch, or 
 a trunk, as it rubbed against some object similar 
 to itself, under the vibrations of a nicely-balanced 
 body. All living sounds had ceased. Once, it is 
 true, the Pathfinder fancied he heard the howl of 
 a distant wolf, of which a few prowled through 
 these woods ; but it was a transient and doubtful 
 cry, that might possibly have been attributed to 
 the imagination. When he desired his compan- 
 ions, however, to cease talking, in the manner just 
 mentioned, his vigilant ear had caught the peculiar 
 sound that is made by the parting of a dried 
 branch of a tree, and which, if his senses did not 
 deceive him, came from the western shore. All 
 who are accustomed to that particular sound, will 
 understand how readily the ear receives it, and 
 how easy it is to distinguish the tread which 
 breaks the branch from every other noise of the 
 forest. 
 
 “ There is the footstep of a man on the bank,” 
 said Pathfinder to Jasper, speaking neither in a 
 whisper nor yet in a voice loud enough to b« 
 heard at any distance. “ Can the accursed Iro- 
 quois have crossed the river, already, with theii 
 arms, and without a boat ? ” 
 
 “ It may be the Delaware ! He would follow 
 us, of course, down this bank, and would know 
 where to look for us. Let me draw closer in to 
 the shore, and reconnoitre.” 
 
 “ Go, boy, but be light with the paddle, and 
 on no accountventur’ ashore on an onsartainty/ 
 
46 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ Is this prudent ? ” demanded Mabel, with an 
 impetuosity that rendered her incautious in modu- 
 lating her sweet voice. 
 
 “ Very imprudent, if you speak so loud, fair 
 one. I like your voice, which is soft and pleas- 
 ing, after listening so long to the tones of men ; 
 w but it must not be heard too much, or too free- 
 ly, just now. Your father, the honest sergeant, 
 will tell you, when you meet him, that silence is 
 a double virtue on a trail. — Go, Jasper, and do 
 justice to your own character for pruderce.” 
 
 Ten anxious minutes succeeded the disappear- 
 ance of the canoe of Jasper, which glided away 
 from that of the Pathfinder so noiselessly that it 
 had been swallowed up in the gloom before Mabel 
 allowed herself to believe the young man would 
 really venture alone on a service that struck her 
 imagination as singularly dangerous. During this 
 time the party continued to float with the current, 
 no one speaking, and it might almost be said no 
 one breathing, so strong was the general desire 
 to catch the minutest sound that should come 
 from the shore. But the same solemn, we might 
 indeed say sublime, quiet reigned as before ; the 
 washing of the water, as it piled up against some 
 slight obstruction, and the sighing of the trees, 
 alone interrupting the slumbers of the forest. At 
 the end of the period mentioned the snapping of 
 dried branches was again faintly heard, and the 
 Pathfinder fancied that the sound of smothered 
 voices reached him. 
 
 “I may be mistaken,” he said, “for the 
 thoughts often fancy what the heart wishes ; but 
 them were notes like the low tones of the Dela- 
 ware ! ” 
 
 “ Do the dead of the savages ever walk ? ” de- 
 manded Cap. 
 
 “ Ay, and run, too, in their happy hunting- 
 grounds, but nowhere else. A red-skin finishes 
 with the ’arth after the breath quits the body. It 
 is not one of his gifts to linger around his wigwam 
 when his hour has passed.” 
 
 “ I see some object on the water,” whispered 
 Mabel, whose eye had not ceased to dwell on the 
 body of gloom with close intensity since the dis- 
 appearance of Jasper. 
 
 “ It is the canoe ! ” returned the guide, greatly 
 relieved. “ All must be safe, or we should have 
 heard from the lad.” 
 
 In another minute the two canoes, which be- 
 came visible to those they carried only as they 
 drew near each other, again floated side by side, 
 and the form of Jasper was recognized at the 
 etem of his own boat. The figure of a second 
 man was seated in the bow, and, as the young 
 sailor so wielded his paddle as to tring the face 
 
 of his companion near the eyes of the Pathflndef 
 and Mabel, they both recognized the person of 
 the Delaware. 
 
 “ Chingachgook — my brother ! ” said the guide, 
 in the dialect of the other’s people, a tremor shak- 
 ing his voice that betrayed the strength of his 
 feelings — “ chief of the Mohicans ! my heart io 
 very glad. Often have we passed through blood 
 and strife together but I was afraid it was never 
 to be so again.” 
 
 “ Hugh ! — Mingoes- — squaws ! — Three of their 
 scalps hang at my girdle. They do not know 
 how to strike the Great Serpent of the Delawares. 
 Their hearts have no blood, and their thoughts 
 are on their return-path, across the waters of the 
 Great Lake.” 
 
 “Have you been among them, chief? — and 
 what has become of the warrior who was in the 
 river ? ” 
 
 “ He has turned into a fish, and lies at the bot- 
 tom with the eels ! Let his brothers bait their 
 hooks for him. Pathfinder, I have counted the 
 enemy, and have touched their rifles.” 
 
 “Ah 1 I thought he would be venturesome ! ” 
 exclaimed the guide, in English. “The risky 
 fellow has been in the midst of them, and has 
 brought us back their whole history. — Speak, 
 Chingachgook, and I will make our friends as 
 knowing as ourselves.” 
 
 The Delaware now related, in a low, earnest man- 
 ner, the substance of all his discoveries since he 
 was last seen struggling with his foe in the river. 
 Of the fate of his antagonist he said no more, it 
 not being usual for a warrior to boast in his more 
 direct and useful narratives. As soon as he had 
 conquered in that fearful strife, however, he swam 
 to the eastern shore, landed with caution, and 
 wound his way in among the Iroquois, concealed 
 by the darkness, undetected, and, in the main, 
 even unsuspected. Once, indeed, he had been 
 questioned, but, answering that he was Arrow 
 head, no further inquiries were made. By the 
 passing remarks, he soon ascertained that the 
 party was out expressly to intercept Mabel and 
 her uncle, concerning whose rank, however, they 
 had evidently been deceived. He also ascertained 
 enough to justify the suspicion that Arrow- 
 head had betrayed them to their enemies, for 
 some motive that it was not now easy to reach, 
 as he had not yet received the reward for his ser- 
 vices. 
 
 Pathfinder communicated no more of this in- 
 telligence to his companions than he thought 
 might relieve their apprehensions, intimating, at 
 the same time, that now was the moment for 
 exertion, the Iroquois not having vet entirely 
 
PASSING THE OSWEGO RIFT. 
 
 47 
 
 recovered from the confusion created by their 
 losses. 
 
 “We shall find them at the rift, I make no 
 manner of doubt,” he continued, “ and there it 
 w ill be our fate to pass them or to fall into their 
 hands. The distance to the garrison will then be 
 so short, that I have been thinking of the plan of 
 landing with Mabel, myself, that I may take her 
 !n by some of the by-ways and leave the canoes 
 to their chances in the rapids.” 
 
 “ It will never succeed, Pathfinder,” eagerly 
 interrupted Jasper. “ Mabel is not strong enough 
 to tramp the woods in a night like this. Put her 
 in my skiff, and I will lose my life, or carry her 
 through the rift safely, dark as it is.” 
 
 “No doubt you will, lad ; no one doubts your 
 willingness to do any thing to sarve the sergeant’s 
 daughter : but it must be the eye of Providence, 
 and not your own, that will take you safely 
 through the Oswego rift in a night like this.” 
 
 “ And who will lead her safely to the garrison 
 if she land ? Is not the night as dark on shore 
 as on the water ? or do you think I know less of 
 my calling than you know of yours ? ” 
 
 “ Spiritedly said, lad ; but if I should lose my 
 way in the dark, and I believe no man can say 
 truly that such a thing ever yet happened to me 
 — but, if I should lose my way, no other harm 
 would come of it than to pass a night in the for- 
 est ; whereas a false turn of the paddle, or a broad 
 sheer of the canoe, would put you and the young 
 woman into the river, out of which, it is more 
 than probable, the sergeant’s daughter would 
 never come alive.” 
 
 “ I will leave it to Mabel, herself; I am cer- 
 tain that she will feel more secure in the canoe.” 
 
 “I have great confidence in you both,” an- 
 swered the girl, “ and have no doubts that either 
 will do all he can to prove to my father how much 
 he values him ; but I confess I should not like to 
 quit the canoe, with the certainty we have of there 
 being enemies like those we have seen in the for- 
 est. But my uncle can decide for me in this mat- 
 ter.” 
 
 “ I have no liking for the woods,” said Cap, 
 
 “ w hile one has a clear drift like this on the river. 
 Besides, Master Pathfinder, to say nothing of the 
 •avages, you overlook the sharks.” 
 
 “ Sharks ! who ever heard of sharks in the 
 wilderness ? ” 
 
 1 Ay ! sharks, or bears, or wolves — no matter 
 what you call a thing, so it has the mind and 
 power to bite.” 
 
 Lord, lord, man ; do you dread any creatur’ 
 that is to be found in the American forest ? A 
 catamount is a skeary animal, I will allow, but 
 
 then it is nothing in the hands of a practysed 
 hunter. Talk of the Mingoes and their devil- 
 tries, if you will ; but do not raise a false alarm 
 about bears and wolves.” 
 
 “Ay, ay, Master Pathfinder, this is all well 
 enough for you, who probably know the name of 
 every creature you would meet. Use is every 
 thing, and it makes a man bold when he might 
 otherwise be bashful. I have known seamen in 
 the low latitudes swim for hours at a time among 
 sharks fifteen or twenty feet long, and think no 
 more of what they were doing than a countryman 
 thinks of whom he is among, when he comes out 
 of a church-door of a Sunday afternoon.” 
 
 “This is extraordinary!” exclaimed Jasper, 
 who in good sooth had not yet acquired that ma- 
 terial part of his trade, the ability to spin a yarn. 
 “ I have always heard that it was certain death 
 to venture in the water among sharks ! ” 
 
 “ I forgot to say that the lads always took 
 capstan-bars, or gunners’ handspikes, or crows 
 with them, to rap the beasts over the noses, if 
 they got to be troublesome. No — no — I have no 
 liking for bears and wolves, though a whale, in 
 my eye, is very much the same sort of fish as a 
 red-herring, after it is dried and salted. Mabel 
 and I had better stick to the canoe.” 
 
 “ Mabel would do well to change canoes,” add- 
 ed Jasper. “This of mine is empty, and even 
 Pathfinder will allow that my eye is surer than 
 his own, on the water.” 
 
 “ That I will, cheerfully, boy. The water be- 
 longs to your gifts, and no one will deny that 
 you have improved them to the utmost. You 
 are right enough in believing that the sergeant’s 
 daughter will be safer in your canoe than in this ; 
 and, though I would gladly keep her near myself, 
 
 I have her welfare too much at heart not to give 
 her honest advice. Bring your canoe close along- 
 side, Jasper, and I will give you what you must 
 consider a very precious treasure.” 
 
 “I do consider it,” returned the youth, not 
 losing a moment in complying with the request ; 
 when Mabel passed from one canoe to the other, 
 taking her seat on the effects which had hitherto 
 composed its sole cargo. 
 
 As soon as the arrangement was made, the 
 canoes separated a short distance, and the pad- 
 dles were used, though with great care to avoid 
 making any noise. The conversation gradually 
 ceased, and as the dreaded rift was approached, 
 all became impressed with the gravity of the 
 moment. That their enemies would endeavor to 
 reach this point before them, was almost certain ; 
 and it seemed so little probable any one should 
 attempt to pass it, in the profound obscurity 
 
48 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 which reigned, that Pathfinder was confident par- 
 ties were on both sides of the river, in the hope 
 of intercepting them when they might land. He 
 would not have made the proposal he did, had 
 he not felt sure of his own ability to convert this 
 verv anticipation of success into a means of de- 
 feating the plans of the Iroquois. As the ar- 
 rangement now stood, however, every thing de- 
 pended on the skill of those who guided the 
 canoes ; for should either hit a rock, if not split 
 asunder, it would almost certainly be upset, and 
 then would come not only all the hazards ot 
 the river itself, but, for Mabel, the certainty of 
 falling into the hands of her pursuers. The ut- 
 most circumspection consequently became neces- 
 sary, and each one was too much engrossed with 
 his own thoughts to feel a disposition to utter 
 more than was called for by the exigencies of the 
 case. 
 
 As the canoes stole silently along, the roar 
 of the rift became audible, and it required all 
 the fortitude of Cap to keep his seat, while these 
 boding sounds were approached, amid a dark- 
 ness that scarcely permitted a view of the out- 
 lines of the wooded shore, and of the gloomy 
 vault above his head. He retained a vivid im- 
 pression of the falls, and his imagination was 
 not now idle, in swelling the dangers of the rift 
 to a level with those of the headlong descent he 
 had that day made, and even to increase them, 
 under the influence of doubt and uncertainty. 
 In this, however, the old mariner was mistaken, 
 for the Oswego Rift and the Oswego Falls are 
 very different in their characters and violence ; 
 the former being no more than a rapid, that 
 glances among shallows and rocks, while the lat- 
 ter really deserved the name it bore, as has been 
 already shown. 
 
 Mabel certainly felt distrust and apprehen- 
 sion ; but her entire situation was so novel, and 
 her reliance on her guide so great, that she re- 
 tained a self-command that might not have ex- 
 isted had she clearer perceptions of the truth, or 
 been better acquainted with the helplessness of 
 men, when placed in opposition to the power and 
 majesty of Nature. 
 
 “ This is the spot you have mentioned ? ” she 
 said to Jasper, when the roar of the rift came 
 fresh and distinct on her ear. 
 
 “ It is ; and I beg you to have confidence in 
 me. We are not old acquaintances, Mabel, but 
 we live many days in one, in this wilderness. I 
 think already that I have known you years ! ” 
 
 “ And I do not feel as if you were a stranger 
 to me, Jasper. I have every reliance on your 
 skill, as well as on your disposition to serve me.” 
 
 “We shall see — we shall see. Pathfinder *s 
 striking the rapids too near the centre of the 
 river. The bed of the water is closer to the 
 eastern shore; but I cannot make him hear me 
 now. Hold firmly to the canoe, Mabel, and fear 
 nothing.” 
 
 At the next moment, the swift current sucked 
 them into the rift, and for three or four minutes 
 the awe-struck rather than the alarmed girl saw 
 nothing around her but sheets of glancing foam ; 
 heard nothing but the roar of waters. Twenty 
 times did the canoe appear about to dash against 
 some curling and bright wave, that showed stself 
 even amid that obscurity, and as often did it glide 
 away again unharmed, impelled by the vigorous 
 arm of him who governed its movements. Once, 
 and once only, did Jasper seem to lose com- 
 mand of his frail bark, during which brief space 
 it fairly whirled entirely round ; but, by a des- 
 perate effort, he brought it again under control, 
 recovered the lost channel, and was soon re- 
 warded for all his anxiety by finding himself 
 floating quietly in the deep water below the rap- 
 ids, secure from every danger, and without hav- 
 ing taken in enough of the element to serve for 
 a draught. 
 
 “ All is over, Mabel,” the young man cheer- 
 fully cried. “ The danger is past, and you may 
 now, indeed, hope to meet your father this very 
 night.” 
 
 “ God be praised ! Jasper, we shall owe this 
 great happiness to you ! ” 
 
 “ The Pathfinder may claim a full share in the 
 merit ; but what has become of the other ca- 
 noe ? ” 
 
 “ I see something near us on the water ; is it 
 not the boat of our friends ? ” 
 
 A few strokes of the paddle brought Jasper 
 at the side of the object in question. It was the 
 other canoe, empty and bottom upward. No 
 sooner did the young man ascertain this fact, 
 than he began to search for the swimmers ; and, 
 to his great joy, Cap was soon discovered drifting 
 down with the current ; the old seaman prefer 
 ring the chances of drowning to those of landing 
 among savages. He was hauled into the canoe, 
 though not without difficulty, and then the search 
 ended ; for Jasper was persuaded that the Path- 
 finder would wade to the shore, the water being 
 shallow, in preference to abandoning his beloved 
 rifle. 
 
 The remainder of the passage was short, 
 though made amid darkness and doubt. After ft 
 short pause, a dull, roaring sound was heard, 
 which at times resembled the mutterings of dis- 
 tant thunder, and then agaiD brought with it th« 
 
SERGEANT DUNHAM. 
 
 49 
 
 washing of waters. Jasper announced to his com- 
 panions that they now heard the surf of the lake. 
 Low, curved spits of land lay before them, into 
 the bay formed by one of which the canoe glided, 
 and then it shot up noiselessly upon a gravelly 
 beach. The transition that followed was so hur- 
 ried and great, that Mabel scarce knew what 
 passed. In the course of a few minutes, how- 
 ever, sentinels had been passed, a gate was 
 opened, and the agitated girl found herself in 
 the arms of a parent who was almost a stranger 
 to her. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 “ A land of love, and a land of light, 
 
 Withouten sun, or moon, or night : 
 
 Where the river swa’d a living stream, 
 
 And the light a pure celestial beam : 
 
 The land of vision, it would seem 
 A still, an everlasting dream.” 
 
 Queen’s Wake. 
 
 The rest that succeeds fatigue, and which at- 
 tends a newly-awakened sense of security, is gen- 
 erally sweet and deep. Such was the fact with 
 Mabel, who did not rise from her humble pallet, 
 such a bed as a sergeant’s daughter might claim in 
 a remote frontier post, until long after the garri- 
 son had obeyed the usual summons of the drums, 
 and had assembled at the early parade. Ser- 
 geant Dunham, on whose shoulders fell the task 
 of attending to these ordinary and daily duties, 
 had got through all his morning avocations, and 
 was beginning to think of his breakfast, ere his 
 child left her room and came into fresh air, equal- 
 ly bewildered, delighted, and grateful, at the nov- 
 elty and security of her new situation. 
 
 At the time of which we are writing, Oswe- 
 go was one of the extreme frontier posts of the 
 British possessions on this continent. It had not 
 been long occupied, and was garrisoned by a bat- 
 talion of a regiment that had been originally 
 Scotch, but into which many Americans had been 
 received, since its arrival in this country — an in- 
 novation that had led the way to Mabel’s father 
 filling the humble but responsible situation of 
 the oldest sergeant. A few young officers, also, 
 who were natives of the colonies, were to be found 
 in the corps. The fort itself, like most works of 
 that character, was better adapted to resist an 
 attack of savages than to withstand a regular 
 eiege ; but the great difficulty of transporting 
 heavy artillery and other necessaries rendered 
 the occurrence of the latter a probability so re- 
 mote, as scarcely to enter into the estimate of 
 Uio engineers who had planned the defences. 
 
 80 
 
 There were bastions of earth and logs, a dry 
 ditch, a stockade, a parade of considerable ex- 
 tent, and barracks of logs, that answered the 
 double purpose of dwellings and fortifications. 
 A few light field-pieces stood in the area of the 
 fort, ready to be conveyed to any point where 
 they might be wanted ; and one or two heavy 
 iron guns looked out from the summits of the ad- 
 vanced angles, as so many admonitions to the 
 audacious to respect their power. 
 
 When Mabel, quitting the convenient but com- 
 paratively retired hut, where her father had been 
 permitted to place her, issued into the pure air 
 of the morning, she found herself at the foot of a 
 bastion that lay invitingly before her, with a 
 promise of giving a coup d'ccil of all that had 
 been concealed in the darkness of the preceding 
 night. Tripping up the grassy ascent, the light- 
 hearted as well as light-footed girl found herself 
 at once on a point where the sight, at a few vary- 
 ing glances, could take in all the external novel- 
 ties of her new situation. 
 
 To the southward lay the forest through which 
 she had been journeying so many weary days, 
 and which had proved so full of dangers. It was 
 separated from the stockade by a belt of open 
 land, that had been principally cleared of its 
 woods to form the martial constructions around 
 her. This glacis, for such in fact was its military 
 uses, might have covered a hundred acres, but 
 with it every sign of civilization ceased. All be- 
 yond was forest — that dense, interminable forest 
 that Mabel could now picture to herself, through 
 her recollections, with its hidden, glassy lakes, 
 its dark, rolling streams, and its world of Nature ! 
 
 Turning from this view, our heroine felt her 
 cheek fanned by a fresh and grateful breeze, such 
 as she had not experienced since quitting the far- 
 distant coast. Here a new scene presented itself; 
 although expected, it was not without a start, 
 and a low exclamation indicative of pleasure, that 
 the eager eyes of the girl drank in its beauties. 
 To the north, and east, and west, in every direc- 
 tion, in short, over one entire half of the novel 
 panorama, lay a field of rolling waters. The ele- 
 ment was neither of that glassy green which dis- 
 tinguishes the American waters in general, nor 
 yet of the deep blue of the ocean ; the color be- 
 ing of a slightly amber hue, that scarcely affected 
 its limpidity. No land was to be seen, with the 
 exception of the adjacent coast, which stretched 
 to the right and left, in an unbroken outline of 
 forest, with wide bays, and low headlands or 
 points ; still, much of the shore was rocky, and 
 into its caverns the sluggish waters occasionally- 
 rolled, producing a hollow sound, that resemhted 
 
50 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 the concussions of a distant gun. No sail whit- 
 ened the surface, no whale or other fish gambolled 
 on its bosom, no sign of use or service rewarded 
 the longest and most minute gaze at its bound- 
 less expanse. It was a scene, on one side, of ap- 
 parently endless forests, while a waste of seem- 
 ingly interminable water spread itself on the oth- 
 er. Nature had appeared to delight in produ- 
 cing grand effects, by setting two of her principal 
 agents in bold relief to each other, neglecting de- 
 tails ; the eye turning from the broad carpet of 
 leaves to the still broader field of fluid, from the 
 endless but gentle heavings of the lake to the 
 holy calm and poetical solitude of the forest, with 
 wonder and delight. 
 
 Mabel Dunham, though unsophisticated, like 
 most of her countrywomen of that period, and in- 
 genuous and frank as any warm-hearted and sin- 
 cere-minded girl well could be, was not altogether 
 without a feeling for the poetry of this beautiful 
 earth of ours. Although she could scarcely be 
 said to be educated at all, for few of her sex, at 
 that day, and in this country, received much more 
 than the rudiments of plain English instruction, 
 still she had been taught much more than was usu- 
 al for young women in her own station of life, and, 
 in one sense certainly, she did credit to her teach- 
 ing. The widow of a field-officer, who formerly 
 belonged to the same regiment as her father, had 
 taken the child in charge at the death of its moth- 
 er ; and, under the care of this lady, Mabel had 
 acquired some tastes, and many ideas, which oth- 
 erwise might always have remained strangers to 
 her. Her situation in the family had been less 
 that of a domestic than of an humble companion, 
 and the results were quite apparent in her attire, 
 her language, her sentiments, and even in her 
 feelings, though neither, perhaps, rose to the level 
 of those which would properly characterize a 
 lady. She had lost the coarser and less refined 
 habits and manners of one in her original position, 
 without having quite reached a point that dis- 
 qualified her for the situation in life that the ac- 
 cidents of birth and fortune would probably com- 
 pel her to fill. All else that was distinctive and 
 peculiar to her, belonged to natural character. 
 
 With such antecedents, it will occasion the 
 reader no wonder if he learn that Mabel viewed 
 the novel scene before her with a pleasure far 
 superior to that produced by vulgar surprise. 
 She felt its ordinary beauties as most would have 
 felt them, but she had also a feeling for its sub- 
 limity — for that softened solitude, that calm 
 grandeur and eloquent repose, that ever pervade 
 broad views of natural objects which are yet un- 
 disturbed by the labors and struggles of man. 
 
 “ How beautiful ! ” she exclaimed, unconscious 
 of speaking, as she stood on the solitary bastion, 
 facing the air from the lake, and experiencing the 
 genial influence of its freshness pervading both 
 her body and her mind — “how very beautiful i 
 and yet how singular ! ” 
 
 The words, and the train of her ideas, were 
 interrupted by a touch of a finger on her shoulder 
 and turning, in the expectation of seeing her 
 father, Mabel found Pathfinder at her side. He 
 was leaning quietly on his long rifle, and laugh- 
 ing in his quiet manner, while, with an out- 
 stretched arm, he swept over the whole panora- 
 ma of land and water. 
 
 “ Here you have both our domains,” he said, 
 “ Jasper’s and mine. The lake is for him, and the 
 woods are for me. The lad sometimes boasts of 
 the breadth of his dominions, but I tell him my 
 trees make as broad a plain on the face of this 
 ’arth as all his water. W ell, Mabel, you are fit 
 for either, for I do not see that fear of the Min- 
 goes, or night-marches, can destroy your pretty 
 looks.” 
 
 “ It is a new character for the Pathfinder to 
 appear in, to compliment a silly girl.” 
 
 “ Not silly, Mabel ; no, not in the least silly 
 The sergeant’s daughter would do discredit to her 
 worthy father, were she to do or say any thing, 
 that, in common honesty, could be called silly.” 
 
 “Then she must take care and not put too 
 much faith in treacherous, flattering words. But, 
 Pathfinder, I rejoice to see you among us again; 
 for, though Jasper did not seem to feel much 
 uneasiness, I was afraid some accident might 
 have happened to you and your friend on that 
 frightful rift.” 
 
 “ The lad knows us both, and was sartain that 
 we should not drown, which is scarcely one of 
 my gifts. It would have been hard swimming, 
 of a sartainty, with a long-barrelled rifle in the 
 hand ; and, what between the ' game, and the 
 savages, and the French, Killdeer and I have 
 gone through too much in company, to part very 
 easily. No — no — we waded ashore, the rift being 
 shallow enough for that, with small exceptions, 
 and we landed with our arms in our hands. We 
 had to take our time for it, on account of the 
 Iroquois, I will own ; but, as soon as the skulking 
 vagabonds saw the lights that the sergeant sent 
 down to your canoe, we well understood they 
 would decamp, since a visit might have been 
 expected from some of the garrison. So it waa 
 only sitting patiently on the stones, for an hour, 
 and all the danger was over. Patience is tha 
 greatest of virtues in a woodsman.” 
 
 “ I rejoice to hear this, for fatigue itself could 
 
SAFETY OF MABEL AND HER FRIENDS. 
 
 51 
 
 scarcely make me sleep, for thinking what might 
 befall you.” 
 
 “ Lord bless your tender little heart, Mabel ! 
 But this is the way with all you gentle ones. I 
 must say, on my part, howsever, that I was right 
 glad to see the lanterns come down to the water- 
 side, which I knew to be a sure sign of your 
 safety. We hunters and guides are rude beings, 
 but we have our feelin’s, our idees, as well as any 
 giniral in the army. Both Jasper and I would 
 have died, before you should have come to harm 
 — we would.” 
 
 “ I thank you for all you did for me, Path- 
 finder; from the bottom of my heart, I thank 
 you, and, depend on it, my father shall know it. 
 
 I have already told him much, but still have a 
 duty to perform on this subject.” 
 
 “ Tush, Mabel ! The sergeant knows what 
 the woods be, and what men — true red men be, 
 too. There is little need to tell him any thing 
 about it. Well, now you have met your father, do 
 you find the honest old soldier the sort of person 
 you expected to find? ” 
 
 “ He is my own dear father, and received me 
 as a soldier and a father should receive a child. 
 Have you known him long, Pathfinder ? ” 
 
 “ That is as people count time. I was just 
 twelve when the sergeant took me on my first 
 scouting, and that is now more than twenty years 
 ago. We had a tramping time of it, and, as it was 
 before your day, you would have had no father, 
 had not the rifle been one of my nat’ral gifts.” 
 
 “Explain yourself! ” 
 
 “It is too simple for many words. We were 
 ambushed, and the sergeant had got a bad hurt, 
 and would have lost his scalp, but for a sort of 
 inbred turn I took to the weapon. We brought 
 him off, however, and a handsomer head of hair, 
 for his time of life, is not to be found in the 
 rijiment that the sergeant carries about him, this 
 blessed day.” 
 
 “You saved my father’s life, Pathfinder!” 
 exclaimed Mabel, unconsciously, though warmly, 
 taking one of his hard, sinewy hands into both 
 her own. “ God bless you for this, too, among 
 your other good acts ! ” 
 
 “Nay, I did not say that much, though I 
 believe I did save his scalp. A man might live 
 without a scalp, and so I cannot say I saved his 
 life. J asper may say that much consarning you ; 
 «or, without his eye and arm, the canoe would 
 never have passed the rift in safety on a night 
 like the last. The gifts of the lad are for the 
 water, while mine are for the hunt and the trail. 
 He is yonder in the cove there, looking after the 
 eanoes, and keeping an eye on his beloved little 
 
 craft. To my eye, there is no likelier youth in 
 these parts than Jasper Western.” 
 
 For the first time since she had left her room, 
 Mabel now turned her eyes beneath her, and got 
 a view of what might be called the foreground 
 of the remarkable picture she had been studying 
 with so much pleasure. The Oswego threw its 
 dark waters into the lake between banks of some 
 height ; that on its eastern side being bolder and 
 projecting farther north than that on its western. 
 The fort was on the latter, and immediately 
 beneath it were a few huts of logs, which, as they 
 could not interfere with the defence of the place, 
 had been erected along the strand for the purpose 
 of receiving and containing such stores as were 
 landed, or were intended to be embarked, in the 
 communications between the different ports on 
 the shores of Ontario. There were two low, 
 curved, gravelly points, that had been formed, 
 with surprising regularity, by the counteracting 
 forces of the northerly winds and the swift cur- 
 rent, and which, inclining from the storms of the 
 lake, formed two coves within the river. That on 
 the western side was the most deeply indented, 
 and, as it also had the most water, it formed a 
 sort of picturesque little port for the post. It 
 was along the narrow strand that lay between the 
 low height of the fort and the water of this cove, 
 that the rude buildings just mentioned, had been 
 erected. 
 
 Several skiffs, batteaux, and canoes, were 
 hauled up on the shore, and in the cove itself lay 
 the little craft from which Jasper obtained his 
 claim to be considered a sailor. She was cutter- 
 rigged, might have been of forty tons burden, 
 was so neatly constructed and painted as to have 
 something of the air of a vessel-of-war, though 
 entirely without quarters, and rigged and sparred 
 with so scrupulous a regard to proportions and 
 beauty, as well as fitness and judgment, as to 
 give her an appearance that even Mabel at once 
 distinguished to be gallant and trim. Her mould 
 was admirable, for a wright of great skill had 
 sent her drafts from England, at the express 
 request of the officer who had caused her to be 
 constructed ; her paint, dark, warlike, and neat ; 
 and the long, coach-whip pennant that she wore 
 at once proclaimed her to be the property of the 
 king. Her name was the Scvd. 
 
 “ That, then, is the vessel of Jasper ! ” said 
 Mabel, who associated the master of the little 
 craft quite naturally with the cutter itself. “Are 
 there many others on this lake ? ” 
 
 “The Frenchers have three; one of which, 
 they tell me, is a real ship, such as are used on 
 the ocean, another a brig, and a third is a cutter 
 
52 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 like the Scud, here, which they call the Squirrel, 
 in their own tongue, however ; and which seems 
 to have a natural hatred of our own pretty boat, 
 for Jasper seldom goes out that the Squirrel is not 
 at his heels.” 
 
 “And is Jasper one to run from a Frenchman, 
 though he appears in the shape of a squirrel, and 
 that, too, on the water?” 
 
 “Of what use would valor be without the 
 means of turning it to account? Jasper is a 
 brave boy, as all on this frontier know ; but he 
 has no gun, except a little howitzer, and then his 
 crew consists of only two men besides himself, 
 and a boy. I was with him in one of his tram- 
 pooses, and the youngster was risky enough, for 
 he brought us so near the enemy that rifles 
 began to talk ; but the Frenchers carry cannon, 
 and ports, and never show their faces outside of 
 Frontenac without having some twenty men, be- 
 sides their Squirrel, in their cutter. No — no — 
 this Scud was built for flying, and the major says 
 he will not put her in a fighting humor by giving 
 her men and arms, lest she should take him at 
 his word, and get her wings clipped. I know 
 little of these things, for my gifts are not at all 
 in that way ; but I see the reason of the thing — 
 I see its reason, though Jasper does not.” 
 
 “ Ah ! here is my uncle, none the worse for 
 his swim, coming to look at this inland sea.” 
 
 Sure enough, Cap, who had announced his 
 approach by a couple of lusty hems, now made 
 his appearance on the bastion, where, after nod- 
 ding to his niece and her companion, he made a 
 deliberate survey of the expanse of water before 
 him. In order to effect this at his ease, the 
 mariner mounted on one of the old iron guns, 
 folded his arms across his breast, and balanced 
 his body, as if he felt the motion of a vessel. To 
 complete the picture, he had a short pipe in his 
 mouth. 
 
 “Well, Master Cap,” asked the Pathfinder, in- 
 nocently, for he did not detect the expression of 
 contempt that was gradually settling on the fea- 
 tures of the other, “ is it not a beautiful sheet, 
 and fit to be named a sea ? ” 
 
 “ This, then, is what you call your lake ? ” de- 
 manded Cap, sweeping the northern horizon with 
 his pipe. “ I say, is this, really, your lake ? ” 
 
 “Sartain; and, if the judgment of one who 
 has lived on the shores of many others can be 
 taken, a very good lake it is.” 
 
 “ Just as I expected ! A pond in dimensions, 
 and a scuttle-butt in taste. It is all in vain to 
 travel inland, in the hope of seeing any thing 
 either full grown or useful. I knew it would turn 
 out just in this way.” 
 
 “ What is the matter with Ontario, Master 
 Cap ? It is large, and fair to look at, and pleas- 
 ant enough to drink, for those who can’t get at 
 the water of the springs.” 
 
 “Do you call this large?” asked Cap, again 
 sweeping the air with the pipe. “ I will just ask 
 you what there is large about it ? Didn’t Jasper 
 himself confess that it was only some twenty 
 leagues from shore to shore ? ” 
 
 “ But, uncle,” interposed Mabel, “no land is to 
 be seen, except here on our own coast. To me it 
 looks exactly like the ocean.” 
 
 “ This bit of a pond look like the ocean ! 
 Well, Magnet, that from a girl who has had real 
 seamen in her family is downright nonsense. 
 What is there about it, pray, that has even the 
 outline of a sea on it ? ” 
 
 “ Why, there is water — water — water — noth- 
 ing but water, for miles on miles — far as the eye 
 can see.” 
 
 “ And isn’t there water — water — water — noth- 
 ing but water for miles on miles, in your rivers, 
 that you have been canoeing through, too ? — ay, 
 and ‘ as far as the eye can see,’ in the bargain ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, uncle, but the rivers have their banks, 
 and there are trees along them, and they are 
 narrow.” 
 
 “ And isn’t this a bank where we stand — don’t 
 these soldiers call this the bank of the lake, and 
 ar’n’t there trees in thousands, and ar’n’t twenty 
 leagues narrow enough of all conscience ? Who 
 the devil ever heard of the banks of the ocean, 
 unless it might be the banks that are under the 
 water ? ” 
 
 “ But, uncle, we cannot see across this lake, 
 as we can see across a river.” 
 
 “ There you are out, Magnet. Ar’n’t the Ama- 
 zon, and Orinoco, and La Plata rivers, and can 
 you see across them ? — Harkee, Pathfinder, I very 
 much doubt if this strip of water here be even 
 a lake ; for to me it appears to be only a river. 
 You are by no means particular about your 
 geography, I find, up here in the woods.” 
 
 “ There you are out, Master Cap. There is 
 a river, and a noble one too, at each end of it ; 
 but this is old Ontario before you, and, though 
 it is not my gift to live on a lake, to my judg- 
 ment there are few better that this.” 
 
 “And, uncle, if we stood on the beach at 
 Rockaway, what more should we see, than we 
 now behold ? There is a shore on one side, or 
 banks there, and trees, too, as well as those 
 which are here.” 
 
 “This is perverseness, Magnet, and young 
 girls should steer clear of any thing like obsti- 
 nacy. In the first place, the ocean has coasts 
 
MASTER CAP’S DOGMATISM. 
 
 53 
 
 but no banks, except the Grand Banks, as I tell 
 you, which are out of sight of land ; and you 
 will not pretend that this bank is out of sight 
 of land, or even under water ! ” 
 
 As Mabel could not very plausibly set up 
 this extravagant opinion, Cap pursued the sub- 
 ject, his countenance beginning to discover the 
 triumph of a successful disputant. 
 
 “And then them trees bear no comparison 
 to these trees. The coasts of the ocean have 
 farms, and cities, and country-seats, and, in some 
 parts of the world, castles and monasteries, and 
 light-houses — ay, ay — light-houses, in particular, 
 on them ; not one of all which things is to be 
 seen here. No — no — Master Pathfinder, I never 
 heard of an ocean that hadn’t more or less light- 
 houses on it, whereas, hereaway, there is not 
 even a beacon.” 
 
 “There is what is better — there’s what is 
 better ; a forest and noble trees, a fit temple of 
 God.” 
 
 “ Ay, your forest may do for a lake, but of 
 what use would an ocean be, if the earth all 
 around it were forest ? Ships would be unneces- 
 sary, as timber might be floated in rafts, and there 
 would be an end of trade, and what would a world 
 be without trade! I am of that philosopher’s 
 opinion, who says, human nature was invented 
 for the purposes of trade. — Magnet, I am aston- 
 ished that you should think this water even looks 
 like sea-water? — Now, I dare say that there 
 isn’t such a thing as a whale in all your lake, 
 Master Pathfinder ! ” 
 
 “ I never heard of one, I will confess, but I am 
 no judge of animals that live in the water, unless 
 it be the fishes of the rivers and brooks.” 
 
 “ Nor a grampus, nor a porpoise even ; not 
 so much as a poor devil of a shark ? ” 
 
 “ I will not take it on myself to say there is 
 either. My gifts are not in that way, I tell you, 
 Master Cap.” 
 
 “ Nor herring, nor albatross, nor flying-fish ” 
 — continued Cap, who kept his eye fastened on 
 the guide, in order to see how far he might ven- 
 ture. “ No such thing as a fish that can fly, I 
 dare say ? ” 
 
 “ A fish that can fly ! Master Cap — Master 
 Cap, do not think because we are mere borderers, 
 that we have no idees of Natur’, and what she has 
 been pleased to do. I know there are squirrels 
 shat can fly — ” 
 
 “ A squirrel fly ? — the devil, Master Pathfinder ! 
 Do you suppose that you have got a boy on his 
 first v’y’ge, up here among you ? ” 
 
 “ I know nothing of your v’y’ges, Master Cap, 
 though I suppose them to have been many ; but, 
 
 as for what belongs to Natur’ in the woods, what 
 I have seen I may tell, and not fear the face of 
 man.” 
 
 “ And do you wish me to understand that you 
 have seen a squirrel fly ? ” 
 
 “ If you wish to understand the power of God, 
 Master Cap, you will do well to believe that, and 
 many other things of a like natur’, for you may 
 be quite sartain it is true.” 
 
 “ And yet, Pathfinder,” said Mabel, looking so 
 pretty and sweet even while she played with the 
 guide’s infirmity, that he forgave her in his heart 
 — “you, who speak so reverently of the power 
 of the Deity, appear to doubt that a fish can fly ? ” 
 “ I have not said it — I have not said it ; and 
 if Master Cap is ready to testify to the fact, un- 
 likely as it seems, I am willing to try to think it 
 true. I think it every man’s duty to believe in 
 the power of God, however difficult it may be.” 
 
 “And why isn’t my fish as likely to have 
 wings as your squirrel ? ” demanded Cap, with 
 more logic than was in his wont. “ That fishes 
 do and can fly, is as true as it is reasonable — ” 
 
 “ Nay, that is the only difficulty in believing 
 the story,” rejoined the guide. “It seems on- 
 reasonable to give an animal that lives in the 
 water wings, which ‘seemingly can be of no use 
 to them.” 
 
 “ And do you suppose that the fishes are such 
 asses as to fly about under water, when they are 
 once fairly fitted out with wings ? ” 
 
 “Nay, I know nothing of the matter, but that 
 fish should fly in the air seems more contrary to 
 Natur’ still, than that they should fly in their own 
 quarters; that in which they were born and 
 brought up, as one might say.” 
 
 “ So much for contracted ideas, Magnet. The 
 fish fly out of water to run away from their ene- 
 mies in the water ; and there you see not only the 
 fact, but the reason for it.” 
 
 “ Then I suppose it must be true,” said the 
 guide, quietly. “ How long are their flights ? ” 
 “Not quite as far as those of pigeons, per- 
 haps, but far enough to make an offing. As for 
 those squirrels of yours, we’ll say no more about 
 them, friend Pathfinder, as I suppose they were 
 mentioned just as a make-weight to the fish in 
 favor of the woods. But what is this thing, 
 anchored here under the hill ? ” 
 
 “That is the cutter of Jasper, uncle,” said 
 Mabel, hurriedly — “and a very pretty vessel I 
 think it is. Its name, too, is the Scud.” 
 
 “Ay, it will do well enough for a lake, per- 
 haps, but it’s no great affair. The lad has got a 
 standing bowsprit, and who ever saw a cutter 
 with a standing bowsprit before ! ” 
 
u 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ But may there not be some good reason for 
 It, on a lake like this, uncle ? ” 
 
 “ Sure enough — I must remember this is not 
 the ocean, though it does look so much like it.” 
 
 “ Ah ! uncle, then Ontario does look like the 
 ocean, after all ! ” 
 
 “In your eyes, I mean, and those of Path. 
 Under; not in the least in mine, Magnet. Now 
 you might set me down out yonder, in the middle 
 of this bit of a pond, and that too in the darkest 
 night that ever fell from the heavens, and in the 
 smallest canoe, and I could tell you it was only a 
 lake. For that matter the Dorothy ” (the name of 
 his vessel) “ would find it out as quick as I could 
 myself. I do not believe that byig would make 
 more than a couple of short stretches at the most, 
 before she would perceive the difference between 
 Ontario and the old Atlantic. I once took her 
 down into one of the large South- American bays, 
 and she behaved herself as awkwardly as a booby 
 would in a church, with the congregation in a 
 hurry. And Jasper sails that boat? I must 
 have a cruise with the lad, Magnet, before I quit 
 you, just for the name of the thing. It would 
 never do to say I got in sight of this pond, and 
 went away without taking a trip on it.” 
 
 “Well, well, you needn’t wait long for that,” 
 returned Pathfinder — “ for the sergeant is about 
 to embark with a party, to relieve a post among 
 the Thousand Islands ; and, as I heard him say he 
 intended that Mabel should go along, you can join 
 company too.” 
 
 “ Is this true, Magnet ? ” 
 
 “I believe it is,” returned the girl, a flush, so 
 imperceptible as to escape the observation of her 
 companions, glowing on her cheeks, “though I 
 have had so little opportunity to talk with my 
 dear father, that I am not quite certain. Here 
 he comes, however, and you can inquire of him- 
 self.” 
 
 Notwithstanding his humble rank, there was 
 something in the mien and character of Sergeant 
 Dunham that commanded respect. Of a tall, 
 imposing figure, grave and saturnine disposition, 
 and accurate and precise in his acts and manner 
 of thinking, even Cap, dogmatical and supercilious 
 as he usually was with landsmen, did not presume 
 to take the same liberties with the old soldier as 
 he did with his other friends. It was often re- 
 marked that Sergeant Dunham received more 
 true respect from Duncan of Lundie, the Scotch 
 laird who commanded the post, than most of the 
 subalterns ; for experience and tried services were 
 of quite as much value in the eyes of a veteran 
 major, as birth and money. While the sergeant 
 never even hoped to rise any higher, he so far 
 
 respected himself and his present station, as ah 
 ways to act in a way to command attention ; and 
 the habit of mixing so much with inferiors, whose 
 passions and dispositions he felt it necessary to 
 restrain by distance and dignity, had so far colored 
 his whole deportment that few were altogether 
 free from its influence. While the captains treated 
 him kindly, and as an old comrade, the lieutenants 
 seldom ventured to dissent from his military opin- 
 ions ; and the ensigns, it was remarked, actually 
 manifested a species of respect that amounted to 
 something very like deference. It is no wonder, 
 then, that the announcement of Mabel put a sud- 
 den termination to the singular dialogue we have 
 just related, though it had been often observed 
 that the Pathfinder was the only man on that 
 frontier, beneath the condition of a gentleman, 
 who presumed to treat the sergeant at all as an 
 equal, or even with the cordial familiarity of a 
 friend. 
 
 “ Good-morrow, brother Cap,” said the ser- 
 geant, giving the military salute, as he walked in 
 a grave, stately manner on the bastion. “ My 
 morning duty has made me seem forgetful of you 
 and Mabel, but we have now an hour or two to 
 spare, and to get acquainted. Do you not per- 
 ceive, brother, a strong likeness in the girl to 
 her we have so long lost ? ” 
 
 “ Mabel is the image of her mother, sergeant, 
 as I have always said, with a little of your firmer 
 figure ; though for that matter the Caps were 
 never wanting in spring and activity.” 
 
 Mabel cast a timid glance at the stern, rigid 
 countenance of her father, of whom she had ever 
 thought as the warm-hearted dwell on the affec- 
 tion of their absent parents, and, as she saw that 
 the muscles of his face were working, notwith- 
 standing the stiffness and method of his manner, 
 her very heart yearned to throw herself on his 
 bosom, and to weep at will. But he was so much 
 colder in externals, so much more formal and dis- 
 tant than she had expected to find him, that she 
 would not have dared to hazard the freedom, even 
 had they been alone. 
 
 “You have taken a long and troublesome 
 journey, brother, on my account, and we will try 
 to make you comfortable while you stay among 
 us.” 
 
 “ I hear you are likely to receive orders to 
 lift your anchor, sergeant, and to shift your berth 
 into a part of the world where they say there are 
 a thousand islands ? ” 
 
 “ Pathfinder, this is some of your forgetful- 
 ness ? — ” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, sergeant ; I forgot nothing, but it 
 did not seem to me necessary to hide vour inten* 
 
THE SERGEANT’S HOSPITALITY. 
 
 55 
 
 lions so very closely from your own flesh and 
 blood.” 
 
 “ All military movements ought to be made 
 with as little conversation as possible,” returned 
 the sergeant, tapping the guide’s shoulder, in a 
 friendly but reproachful manner. “You have 
 passed too much of your life in front of the French 
 not to know the value of silence. But, no mat- 
 ter ; the thing must soon be known, and there is 
 no great use in trying, now, to conceal it. We 
 shall embark a relief-party, shortly, for a post on 
 the lake, though I do not say it is for the Thou- 
 sand Islands, and I may have to go with it ; in 
 which case I intend to take Mabel to make my 
 broth for me, and I hope, brother, you will not 
 despise a soldier’s fare, for a month or so.” 
 
 “ That will depend on the manner of march- 
 ing. I have no love for woods and swamps.” 
 
 “We shall sail in the Scud; and, indeed, the 
 whole service, which is no stranger to us, is like- 
 ly enough to please one accustomed to the wa- 
 ter ” 
 
 “ Ay, to salt-water, if you will, but not to 
 lake water. If you have no person to handle 
 that bit of a cutter for you, I have no objection 
 to ship for the v’y’ge, notwithstanding, though I 
 shall lock on the whole affair as so much time 
 thrown away ; for I consider it an imposition to 
 call sailing about this pond going to sea.” 
 
 “ Jasper is every way able to manage the 
 Scud, brother Cap, and in that light I cannot say 
 that we have need of your services, though we 
 shall be glad of your company. You cannot re- 
 turn to the settlements until a party is sent in, 
 and that is not likely to happen until after my 
 return. — Well, Pathfinder, this is the first time I 
 ever knew men on the trail of the Mingoes, and 
 you not at their head ! ” 
 
 “ To be honest with you, sergeant,” returned 
 the guide, not without a little awkwardness of 
 manner, and a perceptible difference in the hue 
 of a face that had become so uniformly red by 
 exposure, “ I have not felt that it was my gift, 
 this morning. In the first place, I very well know 
 that the soldiers of the j ?ih are not the lads to 
 overtake Iroquois in the woods, and the knaves 
 did not wait to be surrounded, when they knew 
 that Jasper had reached the garrison. Then, a 
 man may take a little rest, after a summer of hard 
 work, and no impeachment of his good-will. Be- 
 sides, the Sarpent is out with them, and if the 
 miscreants aTe to be found at all, you may trust 
 to his inrnity and sight : the first being stronger, 
 and the last nearly, if not quite, as good as my 
 Own. He loves the skulking vagabonds as little 
 as myself ; and, for that matter, I may say that 
 
 my own feelin’a toward a Mingo are not much 
 more than the gifts of a Delaware grafted on r. 
 Christian stock. No— no — I thought I would 
 leave the honor, this time, if honor there is Ic 
 be, to the young ensign that commands, who, if 
 he don’t lose his scalp, may boast of his cam- 
 paign in his letters to his mother, w r hen he gets 
 in. I thought I would play idler once in mv 
 life.” 
 
 “ And no one has a better right, if long and 
 faithful service entitles a man to a furlough,” re- 
 turned the sergeant, kindly. “ Mabel will think 
 none the worse of you, for preferring her com- 
 pany to the trail of the savages ; and, I dare say, 
 will be happy to give you a part of her breakfast 
 if you are, inclined to eat. — You must not think, 
 girl, however, that the Pathfinder is in the habit 
 of letting prowlers around the fort beat a retreat, 
 without hearing the crack of his rifle.” 
 
 “ If I thought she did, sergeant, though not 
 much given to showy and parade evolutions, I 
 would shoulder Killdeer, and quit the garrison 
 before her pretty eyes had time to frown. No — 
 no — Mabel knows me better, though we are but 
 new acquaintances, for there has been no want 
 of Mingoes to enliven the short march we have 
 already made in company.” 
 
 “It would need a great deal of testimony, 
 Pathfinder, to make me think ill of you in any 
 way, and more than all in the way you mention,” 
 returned Mabel, coloring with the sincere ear- 
 nestness with which she endeavored to remove 
 any suspicion to the contrary from his mind. 
 “ Both father and daughter, I believe, owe you 
 their lives, and believe me that neither will ever 
 forget it.” 
 
 “ Thank you, Mabel, thank you with all my 
 heart. But I will not take advantage of youi 
 ignorance neither, girl, and therefore shall say I 
 do not think the Mingoes would have hurt a 
 hair of your head, had they succeeded by their 
 deviltries and contrivances in getting you into 
 their hands. My scalp, and Jasper’s, and Master 
 Cap’s, there, and the Sarpent’s too, would sar- 
 tainly have been smoked ; but as for the ser- 
 geant’s daughter, I do not think they would have 
 hurt a hair of her head ! ” 
 
 “And why should I suppose that enemies 
 known to spare neither women nor children, 
 would have shown more mercy to me than to 
 another ? I feel, Pathfinder, that I owe you my 
 life.” 
 
 “I say nay, Mabel; they wouldn’t have had 
 the heart to hurt you. No, not even a fiery 
 Mingo devil would have had the heart to hurt e 
 hair of your head ! Bad as I suspect the vam 
 
56 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 pires to be, I do not suspect them of any thing 
 bo wicked as that. They might have wished you 
 — nay forced you to become the wife of one of 
 their chiefs, and that would be torment enough 
 to a Christian young woman ; but beyond that I 
 do not think even the Mingoes themselves would 
 have gone.” 
 
 “ W ell, then, I shall owe my escape from this 
 great misfortune to you,” said Mabel, taking his 
 hand into her own, frankly and cordially, and 
 certainly in a way to delight the honest guide. 
 “ To me it would be a lighter evil to be killed, 
 than to become the wife of an Indian.” 
 
 “That is her gift, sergeant,” exclaimed Path- 
 finder, turning to his old comrade, with gratifica- 
 tion written on every lineament of his honest 
 countenance,. “ and it will have its way. I tell 
 the Sarpent that no Christianizing will ever make 
 even a Delaware a white man ; nor any whooping 
 and yelling convart a pale-face into a red-skin. 
 That is the gift of a young woman born of Chris- 
 tian parents, and it ought to be maintained.” 
 
 “ You are right, Pathfinder ; and so far as 
 Mabel Dunham is concerned, it shall be main- 
 tained. — But it is time to break your fasts, and 
 if you will follow me, brother Cap, I will show 
 you how we poor soldiers live, here on a distant 
 frontier.” 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 “ How my co-mates and partners la exile, 
 
 Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
 Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods 
 More free from peril than the curious court ? 
 
 Here feel wo but the penalty of Adam.” 
 
 As You Liee It, 
 
 Sergeant Dunham made no empty vaunt 
 when he gave the promise conveyed in the clos- 
 ing words of the last chapter. Notwithstanding 
 the remote frontier position of the post, they 
 who lived at it enjoyed a table that, in many re- 
 spects, kings and princes might have envied. At 
 the period of our tale, and indeed for half a cen- 
 tury later, the whole of that vast region which 
 has been called the West, or the new countries, 
 since the war of the Revolution, lay a comparative- 
 ly unpeopled desert, teeming with all the living pro- 
 ductions of Nature that properly belonged to the 
 climate, man and the domestic animals excepted. 
 The few Indians that roamed its forests then 
 could produce no visible effects on the abundance 
 of the game ; and the scattered garrisons, or oc- 
 casional hunters that here and there were to be 
 met with on that vast surface, had no other in- 
 
 fluence than the bee on the buckwheat-field, oi 
 the humming-bird on the flower. 
 
 The marvels that have descended to our own 
 times, in the way of tradition, concerning the 
 qualities of beasts, birds, and fishes, that were 
 then to be met with, on the shores of the great 
 lakes in particular, are known to be sustained by 
 the experience of living men, else we might hesi 
 tate about relating them ; but, having been eye- 
 witnesses of some of these prodigies, our office 
 shall be discharged with the confidence that cer- 
 tainty can impart. Oswego was particularly well 
 placed to keep the larder of an epicure amply 
 supplied. Fish of various sorts abounded in its 
 river, and the sportsman had only to cast his line 
 to haul in a bass, or some other member of the 
 finny tribe, which then peopled the waters as the 
 air above the swamps of this fruitful latitude is 
 known to be filled with insects. Among others 
 was the salmon of the lakes, a variety of that 
 well-known species that is scarcely inferior to the 
 delicious salmon of Northern Europe. Of the dif- 
 ferent migratory birds that frequent forests and 
 waters, there was the same affluence, hundreds 
 of acres of geese and ducks being often seen at a 
 time in the great bays that indent the shores of 
 the lake. Deer, bears, rabbits, and squirrels, 
 with divers other quadrupeds, among which was 
 sometimes included the elk, or moose, helped to 
 complete the sum of the natural supplies on which 
 all the posts depended, more or less, to relieve 
 the unavoidable privations of their remote frontier 
 positions. 
 
 In a place where viands that would elsewhere 
 be deemed great luxui'ies were so abundant, no 
 one was excluded from their enjoyment. The 
 meanest individual at Oswego habitually feasted 
 on game that would have formed the boast of a 
 Parisian table ; and it was no more than a health- 
 ful commentary on the caprices of taste and of the 
 waywardness of human desires, that the very diet, 
 which in other scenes would have been deemed 
 the subject of envy and repinings, got to pall on 
 the appetite. The coarse and regular food of the 
 army, which it became necessary to husband on 
 account of the difficulty of transportation, rose 
 in the estimation of the common soldier, and at 
 any time he would cheerfully desert his venison, 
 and ducks, and pigeons, and salmon, to banquet 
 on the sweets of pickled pork, stringy turnips, 
 and half-cooked cabbage. 
 
 The table of Sergeant Dunham, as a maitei 
 of course, partook of the abundance and luxuries 
 of the frontier as well as of its privations. A de- 
 licious broiled salmon smoked on a homely plat- 
 ter, hot venison-steaks sent up their appetizing 
 
TABLE LUXURIES. 
 
 57 
 
 edors, and several dishes of cold meats, all of 
 which were composed of game, had been set be- 
 fore the guests in honor of the newly-arrived visit- 
 ors, and in vindication of the old soldier’s hospi- 
 tality. 
 
 “You do not seem to be on short allowance 
 in this quarter of the world, sergeant,” said Cap, 
 after he had got fairly initiated into the mysteries 
 of the different dishes ; “ your salmon might sat- 
 isfy a Scotsman.” 
 
 “It fails to do it, notwithstanding, brother 
 Cap ; for, among two or three hundred of the 
 fellows that we have in this garrison, there are 
 not half a dozen who will not swear that the fish 
 is unfit to be eaten. Even some of the lads, who 
 never tasted venison except as poachers at home, 
 turn up their noses at the fattest haunches that 
 we get here.” 
 
 “ Ay, that is Christian natur’,” put in Path- 
 finder, “ and I must say it is none to its credit. 
 Now, a red-skin never repines, but is always 
 thankful for the food he gets, whether it be fat 
 or lean, venison or bear, wild-turkey’s breast or 
 ''wild-goose’s wing. To the shame of us white 
 men be it said that we look upon blessings with- 
 out satisfaction, and consider trifling evils mat- 
 ters of great account.” 
 
 “ It is so with the 55th, as I can answer, 
 though I cannot say as much for their Chris- 
 tianity,” returned the sergeant. “ Even the ma- 
 jor himself, old Duncan of Lundie, will sometimes 
 swear an oatmeal-cake is better fare than the 
 Oswego bass, and sigh for a swallow of Highland 
 water, when, if so minded, he has the whole of 
 Ontario to quench his thirst in.” 
 
 “Has Major Duncan a wife and children?” 
 asked Mabel, whose thoughts naturally turned 
 toward her own sex in her new situation. 
 
 “Not he, girl; though they do say that he 
 has a betrothed at home. The lady, it seems, is 
 willing to wait rather than suffer the hardships 
 of service in this wild region — all of which, broth- 
 er Cap, is not according to my notions of a wom- 
 an’s duties. Your sister thought differently, and, 
 had it pleased God to spare her, would have been 
 sitting at this moment on the very camp-stool 
 that her daughter so well becomes.” 
 
 “ I hope, sergeant, you do not think of Mabel 
 for a soldier’s wife,” returned Cap, gravely. 
 “ Our family has done its share in that way al- 
 ready, and it’s high time the sea was again re- 
 membered.” 
 
 “ I do not think of finding a husband for the 
 girl in the 55th or any other regiment, I can prom- 
 ise you, brother ; though I do think it getting to 
 be time that the child were respectably married.” 
 
 “Father!” 
 
 “ ’Tis not their gifts, sergeant, to talk of these 
 matters in so open a manner,” said the guide, 
 “ for I’ve seen it verified by exper’ence that he 
 who would follow the trail of a virgin’s good-will 
 must not go shouting out his thoughts behind 
 her. So, if you please, we will talk of something 
 else.” 
 
 “ Well, then, brother Cap, I hope that bit of a 
 cold-roasted pig is to your mind ; you seem to 
 fancy the food.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, give me civilized grub, if I must 
 eat,” returned the pertinacious seaman, “Yeni- 
 son is well enough for your inland sailors, but we 
 of the ocean like a little of that which we under- 
 stand.” 
 
 Here Pathfinder laid down his knife and fork, 
 and indulged in a hearty laugh, though always in 
 his silent manner ; then he asked, with a little 
 curiosity in his manner : 
 
 “ Don’t you miss the skin, Master Cap ; don’t 
 you miss the skin ? ” 
 
 “ It would have been better for its jacket, I 
 think myself, Pathfinder ; but I suppose it is a 
 fashion of the woods to serve up shoats in this 
 style.” 
 
 “Well, well, a man may go round the ’arth 
 and not know every thing ! If you had had the 
 skinning of that pig, Master Cap, it would have 
 left you sore hands. The creatur’ is a hedge- 
 hog!” 
 
 “ Blast me, if I thought it wholesome natural 
 pork, either ! ” returned Cap. “ But then I be- 
 lieved even a pig might lose some of its good 
 qualities, up hereaway, in the woods. It seemed 
 no more than reason that a fresh -water hog 
 should not be altogether so good as a salt-water 
 hog. — I suppose, sergeant, by this time, it is all 
 the same to you ? ” 
 
 “ If the skinning of it, brother, does not fall 
 to my duty. — Pathfinder, I hope you didn’t find 
 Mabel disobedient on the march ? ” 
 
 “ Not she — not she. If Mabel is only half as 
 well satisfied with Jasper and the Pathfinder, as 
 the Pathfinder and Jasper are satisfied with her, 
 sergeant, we shall be friends for the remainder of 
 our days.” 
 
 As the guide spoke, he turned his eyes toward 
 the blushing girl, with a sort of innocent desire 
 to know her opinion ; and then, with an inborn 
 delicacy that proved he was far superior to the 
 vulgar desire to invade the sanctity of feminine 
 feeling, he looked at his plate, and seemed to re- 
 gret his own boldness. 
 
 “Well, well, we must remember that women 
 are not men, my friend,” resumed the sergeantj 
 
58 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 J and make proper allowances for nature and 
 education. A recruit is not a veteran. Any man 
 knows that it takes longer to make a good sol- 
 dier than it takes to make any thing else ; and it 
 ought to require unusual time to make a good 
 soldier’s daughter.” 
 
 “ This is new doctrine, sergeant,” said Cap, 
 with some spirit. “We old seamen are apt to 
 think that six soldiers, ay, and capital soldiers, 
 too, might be made, while one sailor is getting 
 his education.” 
 
 “ Ay, brother Cap, I’ve seen something of the 
 opinions which seafaring men have of themselves,” 
 returned the brother-in-law, with a smile as bland 
 as comported with his saturnine features ; “ for I 
 was many years one of the garrison in a seaport. 
 You and I have conversed on the subject before, 
 and I’m afraid we shall never agree. But if you 
 wish to know what the difference is, between a 
 real soldier, and man in what I should call a 
 state of Nature, you have only to look at a bat- 
 talion of the 55th, on parade this afternoon, and 
 then, when you get back to York, examine one 
 of the militia regiments making its greatest ef- 
 forts.” 
 
 “Well, to my eye, sergeant, there is very lit- 
 tle difference — not more than you’ll find between 
 a brig and a snow. To me they seem alike ; all 
 scarlet, and feathers, and powder, and pipe-clay.” 
 
 “ So much, sir, for the judgment of a sailor,” 
 returned the sergeant, with dignity ; “ but per- 
 haps you are not aware that it requires a year to 
 teach a true soldier how to eat.” 
 
 “ So much the worse for him ! The militia 
 know how to eat at starting ; for I have often 
 heard that, on their marches, they commonly eat 
 all before them, even if they do nothing else.” 
 
 “ They have their gifts, I suppose, like other 
 men,” observed Pathfinder, with a view to pre- 
 serve the peace, which was evidently in some dan- 
 ger of being broken, by the obstinate predilection 
 of each of the disputants in favor of his own call- 
 ing ; “ and when a man has his gift from Provi- 
 dence, it is commonly idle to endeavor to bear up 
 ag’in it. The 65th, sergeant, is a judicious riji- 
 ment, in the way of eating, as I know from hav- 
 ing been so long in its company, though I dare 
 say militia corps could be found that would outdo 
 them in feats of that natur’, too.” 
 
 “ Uncle,” said Mabel, “ if you have breakfast- 
 ed, I will thank you to go out upon the bastion 
 with me again. We have neither of us seen the 
 lake, and it would be hardly seemly for a young 
 woman to be walking about the fort, the first day 
 of her arrival, quite alone.” 
 
 Cap understood the motive of Mabel, and hav- 
 
 ing, at the bottom, a hearty friendship for his 
 brother-in-law, he was willing enough to defer the 
 argument until they had been longer together, 
 for the idea of abandoning it altogether never 
 crossed the mind of one so dogmatical and ob- 
 stinate. He accordingly accompanied his niece, 
 leaving Sergeant Dunham and his friend the 
 Pathfinder alone together. As soon as his ad- 
 versary had beaten a retreat, the sergeant, who 
 did not quite so well understand the manoeuvre 
 of his daughter, turned to his companion, and 
 with a smile that was not without triumph he re- 
 marked : 
 
 “ The army, Pathfinder, has never yet done 
 itself justice ; and, though modesty becomes a 
 man whether he is in a red coat or a black one, 
 or, for that matter, in his shirt-sleeves, I don’t 
 like to let a good opportunity slip of saying a 
 word in its behalf. Well, my friend,” laying his 
 own hand on one of the Pathfinder’s, and giving 
 it a hearty squeeze — “how do you like the 
 girl ? ” 
 
 “ You have reason to be proud of her, ser- 
 geant ; you have reason to be proud at finding 
 yourself the father of so handsome and well-man- 
 nered a young woman. I have seen many of her 
 sex, and some that were great and beautiful, but 
 never before did I meet with one in whom I 
 thought Providence had so well balanced the dif- 
 ferent gifts.” 
 
 “ And the good opinion, I can tell you, Path- 
 finder, is mutual. She told me last night all 
 about your coolness, and spirit, and kindness — 
 particularly the last ; for kindness counts for 
 more than half with females, my friend, and the 
 first inspection seems to give satisfaction on both 
 sides. Brush up the uniform, and pay a little 
 more attention to the outside, Pathfinder, and 
 you will have the girl, heart and hand.” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, sergeant, I’ve forgotten nothing 
 that you have told me, and grudge no reasonable 
 pains to make myself as pleasant in the eyes of 
 Mabel as she is getting to be in mine. I cleaned 
 and brightened up Killdeer, this morning, as soon 
 as the sun rose ; and, in my judgment, the piece 
 never looked better than it does at this very mo- 
 ment ! ” 
 
 “ That is according to your hunting-notions, 
 Pathfinder ; but fire-arms should sparkle and 
 glitter in the sun, and I never yet could see any 
 beauty in a clouded barrel.” 
 
 “ Lord Howe thought otherwise, sergeant ; 
 and he was accounted a good soldier ! ” 
 
 “ Very true — his lordship had all the barrels 
 of his regiment darkened, and what good came of 
 it? You can see his ’scutcheon hanging in the 
 
A PRIVATE CONVERSATION. 
 
 59 
 
 English church at Albany l No, no, my worthy 
 friend, a soldier should be a soldier, and at no 
 time ought he to be ashamed or afraid to carry 
 about him the signs and symbols of his honorable 
 trade. Had you much discourse with Mabel, 
 Pathfinder, as you came along in the canoe ? ” 
 
 “ There was not much opportunity, sergeant, 
 and then I found myself so much beneath her in 
 Ideee, that I was afraid to speak of much beyond 
 what belonged to my own gifts.” 
 
 “ Therein you are partly right, and partly 
 wrong, my friend. Women love trifling discourse, 
 though they like to have most of it to themselves. 
 Now, you know, I’m a man that do not loosen 
 my tongue at every giddy thought, and yet 
 there were days when I could see that Mabel’s 
 mother thought none the worse of me because I 
 descended a little from my manhood. It is true, 
 I was twenty-two years younger then, than I am 
 to-day ; and, moreover, instead of being the old- 
 est sergeant in the regiment, I was the youngest. 
 Dignity is commanding and useful, and there is 
 no getting on without it, as respects the men ; 
 but if you would be thoroughly esteemed by a 
 woman, it is necessary to condescend a little, on 
 occasions.” 
 
 “ Ah’s me ! sergeant ; I sometimes fear it will 
 never do ! ” 
 
 “ Why do you think so discouragingly of a 
 matter on which I thought both our minds were 
 made up ? ” 
 
 “We did agree that if Mabel should prove 
 what you told me she was, if the girl could fancy 
 a rude hunter and guide, that I would quit some 
 of my wandering ways, and try to humanize my 
 mind down to a wife and children. But, since I 
 have seen the girl, I will own that many misgiv- 
 in’s have come over me ! ” 
 
 “ How’s this ! ” interrupted the sergeant, 
 sternly. “ Did I not understand you to say that 
 you were pleased ? — And is Mabel a young wom- 
 an to disappoint expectation ? ” 
 
 “ Ah ! sergeant, it is not Mabel ' that I dis- 
 trust, but myself. I am but a poor, ignorant 
 woodsman, after all, and perhaps I’m not, in 
 truth, as good as even you and I may think 
 me!” 
 
 “ If you doubt your own judgment of your- 
 self, Pathfinder, I beg you will not doubt mine. 
 Am I not accustomed to judge men’s characters ? 
 Is it not my especial duty, and am I often de- 
 ceived ? Ask Major Duncan, sir, if you desire any 
 assurances in this particular.” 
 
 “ But, sergeant, we have long been fri’nds ; 
 have fou’t side by side a dozen times, and have 
 done each other many sarviees. When this is 
 
 the case, men are apt to think overkindly of 
 each other, and I fear me that the , daughter may 
 not be so likely to view a plain, ignorant hunter 
 as favorably as the father does.” 
 
 “ Tut, tut, Pathfinder ! you don’t know your- 
 self, man, and may put all faith in my judgment. 
 In the first place, you have experience, and, as all 
 girls must want that, no prudent young woman 
 would overlook such a qualification. Then you 
 are not one of the coxcombs that strut about 
 when they first join a regiment, but a man who 
 has seen service, and who carries the marks of it 
 on his person and countenance. I dare say you 
 have been under fire some thirty or forty times, 
 counting all the skirmishes and ambushes that 
 you’ve seen.” 
 
 “ All of that, sergeant, all of that ; but what 
 will it avail in gaining the good will of a tender- 
 hearted female ? ” 
 
 “It will gain the day. Experience in the 
 field is as good in love as in war. But you arc 
 as honest-hearted and as loyal a subject as the 
 king can boast of— God bless him ! ” 
 
 “ That may be too— that may be too ; but I’m 
 afeard I’m too rude, and too old, and too wild- 
 like to suit the fancy of such a young and deli- 
 cate girl as Mabel, who has been unused to our 
 wilderness ways, and may think the settlements 
 better suited to her gifts and inclinations.” 
 
 “ These are new misgivings for you, my friend, 
 and I wonder they were never paraded before.” 
 
 “Because I never knew my own worthless- 
 ness, perhaps, until I saw Mabel. I have trav- 
 elled with some as fair, and have guided them 
 through the forest, and seen them in their perils 
 and in their gladness ; but they were always too 
 much above me to make me think of them as 
 more than so many feeble ones I was bound to 
 protect and defend. The case is now different. 
 Mabel and I are so nearly alike that I feel 
 weighed down with a load that is hard to bear at 
 finding us so unlike. I do wish, sergeant, that I 
 was ten years younger, more comely to look at, 
 and better suited to please a handsome young 
 woman’s fancy ! ” 
 
 “ Cheer, up, my brave friend, and trust to a 
 father’s knowledge of womankind. Mabel half 
 loves you already, and a fortnight’s intercourse 
 and kindness, down among the islands yonder, 
 will close ranks with the other half. The girl as 
 much as told me this herself, last night.” 
 
 “ Can this be so, sergeant ? ” said the guide, 
 whose meek and modest nature shrank from 
 viewing himself in colors so favorable. “Can 
 this be truly so ! Iam but a poor hunter, and 
 Mabel, I see, is fit to be an officer’s lady. Dc 
 
THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 you think the gal will consent to quit all her be- 
 loved settlement usages, and her visitin’s, and 
 her church-goin’s, to dwell with a plain guide and 
 hunter, up hereaway, in the woods? Will she 
 not, in the end, crave her oid ways, and a better 
 man ? ” 
 
 “ A better man, Pathfinder, would be hard to 
 find,” returned the father. “ As for town usages, 
 they are soon forgotten in the freedom of the for- 
 est, and Mabel has just spirit enough to dwell on 
 a frontier. I’ve not planned this marriage, my 
 friend, without thinking it over, as a general 
 does his campaign. At first, I thought of bring- 
 ing you into the regiment, that you might succeed 
 me when I retired, which must be sooner or later ; 
 but, on reflection, Pathfinder, I think you are 
 scarcely fitted for the office. Still, if not a soldier 
 in all the meanings of the word, you are a soldier 
 in its best meaning, and I know that you have 
 the good-will of every officer in the corps. As 
 long as I live, Mabel can dwell with me, and you 
 will always have a home when you return from 
 your scoutings and marches.” 
 
 “ This is very pleasant to think of, sergeant, 
 if the girl can only come into our wishes with 
 good-will. But, ah’s me ! it does not seem that 
 one like myself can ever be agreeable in her 
 handsome eyes ! If I were younger, and more 
 comely, now, as Jasper Western is, for instance ; 
 there might be a chance — yes, then, indeed, there 
 might be some chance.” 
 
 “ That, for Jasper Eau-douce and every younk- 
 er of them in or about the fort ! ” returned the 
 sergeant, snapping his fingers. “ If not actually 
 a younger, you are a younger-looking, ay, and a 
 better -looking man than the Scud’s master — •” 
 
 “ Anan ! ” said Pathfinder, looking up at his 
 companion with an expression of doubt, as if he 
 did not understand his meaning. 
 
 “ I say, if not actually younger in days and 
 years, you look more hardy and like whip-cord, 
 than Jasper, or any of them ; and there will be 
 more of you, thirty years hence, than of all of 
 them put together. A good conscience will keep 
 one like you a mere boy all his life.” 
 
 “ Jasper has as clear a conscience as any 
 youth I know, sergeant ! — and is as likely to 
 wear, on that account, as any young man in the 
 colony.” 
 
 “Then you are my friend,” squeezing the 
 other’s hand — “my tried, sworn, and constant 
 friend.” 
 
 “ Yes, we have been friends, sergeant, near 
 twenty years — before Mabel was born.” 
 
 “True enough — before Mabel was bom we 
 were well-tried friends, and the hussy would never 
 
 dream of refusing to marry a man who was hei 
 father’s friend before she was born ! ’ 
 
 “We don’t know, sergeant, we don’t know. 
 Like loves like. The young prefar the young for 
 companions, and the old the old.” 
 
 ‘‘Not for wives, Pathfinder! I never knew 
 an old man, now, who had an objection to a 
 young wife. Then you are respected and es- 
 teemed by every officer in the fort, as I have 
 said already, and it will please her fancy to like 
 a man that every one else likes.” 
 
 I hope I have no inemies but the Mingoes,” 
 returned the guide, stroking down his hair meek- 
 ly, and speaking thoughtfully. “ I’ve tried to do 
 right, and that ought to make friends, though it 
 sometimes fails.” 
 
 “ And you may be said to keep the best com- 
 pany, for even old Duncan of Lundie is glad to 
 see you, and you pass hours in his society. Of 
 all the guides, he confides most in you.” 
 
 “Ay, even greater than he is have marched 
 by my side for days, and have conversed with me 
 as if I were their brother ; but, sergeant, I have 
 never been puffed up by their company, for I 
 know that the woods often bring men to a level 
 who would not be so in the settlements.” 
 
 “ And you are known to be the greatest rifle- 
 shot that ever pulled a trigger in all this region.” 
 
 “ If Mabel could fancy a man for that, I might 
 have no great reason to despair; and yet ser- 
 geant, I sometimes think that it is all as much 
 owing to Killdeer as to any skill of my own. It 
 is sartainly a wonderful piece, and might do as 
 much in the hands of another.” 
 
 “ That is your own humble opinion of your- 
 self, Pathfinder ; but we have seen too many fail 
 with the same weapon, and you succeed too often 
 with the rifles of other men to allow me to agree 
 with you. We will get up a shooting-match in a 
 day or two, when you can show your skill, and 
 then Mabel will form some judgment concerning 
 your true character.” 
 
 “Will that be fair, sergeant? Everybody 
 knows that Killdeer seldom misses, and ought we 
 to make a trial of this sort when we all know 
 what must be the result ? ” 
 
 “ Tut, tut, man ! I foresee I must do half this 
 courting for you. For one who is always inside 
 of the smoke in a skirmish, you are the faintest- 
 hearted suitor I ever met with. Remember, Ma- 
 bel comes of a bold stock ; and tue girl will be as 
 likely to admire a man a3 her mother was before 
 her.” 
 
 Here the sergeant arose, and proceeded to at» 
 tend to his never-ceasing duties without apology 
 the terms on which the guide stood with all in ths 
 
THE GUIDE’S CHARACTER. 
 
 61 
 
 garrison rendering this freedom quite a matter of 
 course. 
 
 The reader will have gathered from the con- 
 versation just related, one of the plans that Ser- 
 geant Dunham had in view, in causing his daugh- 
 ter to be brought to the frontier. Although 
 necessarily much weaned from the caresses and 
 blandishments that had rendered his child so dear 
 to him, during the first year or two of his widow- 
 hood, he had still a strong, but somewhat latent, 
 love for her. Accustomed to command and to 
 obey, without being questioned himself or ques- 
 tioning others concerning the reasonableness of 
 the mandates, he was, perhaps, too much disposed 
 to believe that his daughter would marry the man 
 he might select, while he was far from being dis- 
 posed to do violence to her wishes. The fact 
 was, few knew the Pathfinder intimately, without 
 secretly coming to believe him to be one of ex- 
 traordinary qualities. Ever the same, simple- 
 minded, faithful, utterly without fear, and yet 
 prudent, foremost in all warrantable enterprises, 
 or what the opinion of the day considered as such, 
 and never engaged in any thing to call a blush to 
 his cheek, or censure on his acts ; it was not possi- 
 ble to live much with this being, who, in his pecu- 
 liar way, was a sort of type of what Adam might 
 nave been supposed to be before the fall, though 
 certainly not without sin, and not feel a respect and 
 admiration for him, that had no reference to his 
 position in life. It was remarked that no officer 
 passed him without saluting him as if he had been 
 his equal ; no common man, without addressing 
 him with the confidence and freedom of a comrade. 
 The most surprising peculiarity about the man 
 himself, was the entire indifference with which he 
 regarded all distinctions that did not depend on 
 personal merit. He was respectful to his superiors 
 from habit, but had often been known to correct 
 their mistakes and to reprove their vices, with a 
 fearlessness that proved how essentially he re- 
 garded the more material points, and with a nat- 
 ural discrimination that appeared to set education 
 at defiance. In short, a disbeliever in the ability 
 of man to distinguish between good and evil with- 
 out the aid of instruction, would have been stag- 
 gered by the character of this extraordinary in- 
 habitant of the frontier. His feelings appeared 
 to possess the freshness and nature of the forest 
 in which he passed so much of his time, and no 
 casuist could have made clearer decisions in mat- 
 ters relating to right and wrong ; yet he was not 
 without his prejudices, which, though few, and 
 colored by the character and usages of the indi- 
 vidual, were deep-rooted, and had almost got to 
 form a part of his nature. But the most striking 
 
 feature about the moral organization of Path- 
 finder, was his beautiful and unerring sense of 
 justice. This noble trait (and without it no man 
 can be truly great ; with it, no man other than 
 respectable) probably had its unseen influence on 
 all who associated with him ; for the common and 
 unprincipled brawler of the camp had been known 
 to return from an expedition made in his com- 
 pany, rebuked by his sentiments, softened by his 
 language, and improved by his example. As 
 might have been expected, with so elevated a 
 quality, his fidelity was like the immovable rock. 
 Treachery in him was classed among the things 
 that are impossible, and as he seldom retired 
 before his enemies, so was he never known, under 
 any circumstances that admitted of an alternative, 
 to abandon a friend. The affinities of such a 
 character were, as a matter of course, those of 
 like for like. His associaties and intimates, 
 though more or less determined by chance, were 
 generally of the highest' order, as to moral pro- 
 pensities ; for he appeared to possess a species of 
 instinctive discrimination that led him insensibly 
 to himself, most probably, to cling closest to those 
 whose characters would best reward his friend- 
 ship. In short, it was said of the Pathfinder, by 
 one accustomed to study his fellows, that he was 
 a fair example of what a just-minded and pure 
 man might be, while untempted by unruly or 
 ambitious desires, and left to follow the bias of 
 his feelings, amid the solitary grandeur and en- 
 nobling influences of a sublime nature; nei- 
 ther led aside by the inducements which influ- 
 ence all to do evil amid the incentives of civiliza- 
 tion, nor forgetful of the Almighty Being whose 
 spirit pervades the wilderness as well as the 
 towns. 
 
 Such was the man whom Sergeant Dunham 
 had selected as the husband of MabeL In mak- 
 ing this choice he had not been as much governed 
 by a clear and judicious view of the merits of the 
 individual, perhaps, as by his own likings ; still, 
 no one knew the Pathfinder as intimately as him- 
 self, without always conceding to the honest guide 
 a high place in his esteem, on account of these 
 very virtues. That his daughter could find any 
 serious objection to the match, the old soldier did 
 not apprehend ; while, on the other hand, he saw 
 many advantages to himself, in dim perspective, 
 that were connected with the decline of his days, 
 and an evening of life passing among descendants 
 who were equally dear to him through both 
 parents. He first made the proposition to his 
 friend, who had listened to i$ kindly, but who> 
 the sergeant was now pleased to find, already be- 
 trayed a willingness to come into his own 
 
82 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 views, that was proportioned to the doubts and 
 misgivings proceeding from his humble distrust 
 of himself. 
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 “ Think not I love him, though I fi.sk for him ; 
 
 ’Tis but a peevish boy yet ho talks well — 
 
 But what care I for words ? ” 
 
 A week passed in the usual routine of a gar- 
 rison. Mabel was becoming used to a situation 
 that, at first, she had found not only novel but a 
 little irksome ; and the officers and men, in their 
 turn, gradually familiarized to the presence of a 
 young and blooming girl, whose attire and car- 
 riage had that air of modest gentility about them 
 which she had obtained in the family of her 
 patroness, annoyed her less by their ill-concealed 
 admiration, while they gratified her by the respect 
 which, she was fain to think, they paid her on 
 account of her father ; but which, in truth, was 
 more to be attributed to her own modest but 
 spirited deportment, than to any deference for 
 the worthy sergeant. 
 
 Acquaintances made in a forest, or in any 
 circumstances of unusual excitement, soon attain 
 their limits. Mabel found one week’s residence 
 at Oswego sufficient to determine her as to those 
 with whom she might be intimate, and those 
 whom she ought to avoid. The sort of neutral 
 position occupied by her father, who was not an 
 officer while he was so much more than a common 
 soldier, by keeping her aloof from the two great 
 classes of military life, lessened the number of 
 those whom she was compelled to know, and 
 made the duty of decision comparatively easy. 
 Still she soon discovered that there were a few, 
 even among those that could aspire to a seat at 
 the commandant’s table, who were disposed to 
 overlook the halbert, for the novelty of a well- 
 turned figure, and of a pretty, winning face ; and 
 by the end of the first two or three days, she had 
 admirers even among the gentlemen. The quarter- 
 master, in particular, a middle-aged soldier, who 
 had more than once tried the blessings of matri- 
 mony, but was now a widower, was evidently 
 disposed to increase his intimacy with the ser- 
 geant, though their duties often brought them 
 together; and the youngsters among his mess- 
 mates did not fail to note that this man of method, 
 who was a Scotsman of the name of Muir, was 
 much more frequent in his visits to the quarters 
 of his subordinate than had formerly been his 
 wont. A laugh, or a joke, in honor of the “ ser- 
 geant's daughter,” however, limited their strict- 
 
 ures ; though “ Mabel Dunham ” was soon a toast 
 that even the ensign or the lieutenant did not dis 
 dain to give. 
 
 At the end of the week, Duncan of Lundie 
 sent for Sergeant Dunham after evening roll-call, 
 on business of a nature that, it was understood, 
 required a personal conference. The old veteran 
 dwelt in a movable hut, which, being placed on 
 trucks, he could order to be wheeled about at 
 pleasure, sometimes living in one part of the area 
 within the fort, and sometimes in another.* On 
 the present occasion, he had made a halt near the 
 centre, and there he was found by his subordi- 
 nate, who was admitted to his presence without 
 any delay, or dancing attendance in an ante- 
 chamber. In point of fact, there was very little 
 difference in the quality of the accommodations 
 given to the officers and those allowed to the men, 
 the former being merely granted the most room, 
 and Mabel and her father were lodged nearly, if 
 not quite, as well as the commandant of the place 
 himself. 
 
 “Walk in, sergeant, walk in, my good friend,” 
 said old Lundie, heartily, as his inferior sto f od in 
 a respectful attitude at the door of a sort of li- 
 brary and bedroom into which he had been ush- 
 ered — “ walk in, and take a seat on that stool. 
 I have sent for you, man, to discuss any thing but 
 rosters and pay-rolls this evening. It is now 
 many years since we have been comrades, and 
 ‘auld lang syne’ should count for something, 
 even between a major and his orderly, a Scot and 
 a Yankee. Sit ye down, man, and just put your- 
 self at your ease. It has been a fine day, ser- 
 geant ? ” 
 
 “ It has indeed, Major Duncan,” returned the 
 other, who, though he complied so far as to take 
 the seat, was much 100 practised not to under- 
 stand the degree of respect it was necessary to 
 maintain in his manner — “a very fine day, sir, it 
 has been, and we may look for more of them, at 
 this season.” 
 
 “ I hope so, with all my heart. The crops 
 look well, as it is, man, and you’ll be finding that 
 the 55th make almost as good farmers as soldiers. 
 I never saw better potatoes in Scotland than we 
 are likely to have in that new patch of ours.” 
 
 *‘They promise a good yield, Major Duncan, 
 and in that light a more comfortable winter than 
 the last.” 
 
 “ Life is progressive, sergeant, in its comforts, 
 as well as in its need of them. We grow old, and 
 I begin to think it time to retire and settle in life 
 I feel that my working-days are nearly over.” 
 
 * This circumstance is a real incident, taken from tba 
 “ American Ladv ” of Mrs. Grant, of Lagpan. 
 
THE SERGEANT AND MAJOR DUNCAN. 
 
 “ The king, God bless him, sir, has much good 
 service in your honor, yet.” 
 
 “ It may be so, Sergeant Dunham, especially 
 if he should happen to have a spare lieutenant- 
 colonelcy left.” 
 
 “The 55th will be honored the day that com- 
 mission is given to Duncan of Lundie, sir.” 
 
 “ And Duncan of Lundie will be honored the 
 day he receives it. But, sergeant, if you have 
 never had a lieutenant-colonelcy, you have had 
 a good wife, and that is the next thing to rank, 
 in making a man happy.” 
 
 “ I have been married, Major Duncan ; but it 
 is now a long time since I have had no drawback 
 on the love I bear his majesty and my duty.” 
 
 “ What, man, not even the love you bear that 
 active, little, round-limbed, rosy-cheeked daugh- 
 ter, that I have seen in the fort, these last few 
 days ? Out upon you, sergeant ! old fellow as I 
 am, I could almost love that little lassie myself, 
 and send the lieutenant-colonelcy to the devil.” 
 
 “We all know where Major Duncan’s heart is, 
 and that is in Scotland, where a beautiful lady is 
 ready and willing to make him happy as soon as 
 nis own sense of duty shall permit.” 
 
 “Ay, hope is ever a far-off thing, sergeant,” 
 returned the superior, a shade of melancholy 
 passing over his hard Scottish features as he 
 spoke; “and bonny Scotland is a far-off country. 
 Well, if we have no heather and oatmeal in this 
 region, we have venison for the killing it ; and 
 salmon as plenty as at Berwick-upon-Tweed. Is 
 it true, sergeant, that the men complain of hav- 
 ing been over-venisoned and over-pigeoned of 
 late?” 
 
 “ Not for some weeks, Major Duncan, lor nei- 
 ther deer nor birds are so plenty at this season as 
 they have been. They begin to throw their re- 
 marks about concerning the salmon, but I trust 
 we shall get through the summer without any 
 serious disturbance on the score of food. The 
 Scotch in the battalion do, indeed, talk more than 
 is prudent of their want of oatmeal, grumbling 
 occasionally of our wfficaten bread.” 
 
 “ Ah ! that is human nature, sergeant ; pure 
 unadulterated Scottish human nature. A cake, 
 man, to say the truth, is an agreeable morsel, and 
 I often see the time when I pine for a bite my- 
 self.” 
 
 “ If the feeling gets to be troublesome, Major 
 Duncan — in the men I mean, sir, for I would not 
 think of saying so disrespectful a thing to your 
 honor — but if the men ever pine seriously for 
 their natural food, I would humbly recommend 
 that some oatmeal be imported, or prepared in 
 this country for them, and I think we shall hear 
 
 63 
 
 no more of it. A very little would answer for t> 
 cure, sir.” 
 
 “You are a wag, sergeant ; but hang me if I 
 am sure you are 'not right. There may be sweet- 
 er things in this world, after all, than oatmeal. 
 You have a sweet daughter, Dunham, for one.” 
 
 “The girl is likt her mother, Major Duncan, 
 and will pass inspection,” said the sergeant, 
 proudly. “ Neither was brought up on any thing 
 better than good American flour. The girl will 
 pass inspection, sir.” 
 
 “ That would she, I’ll answer for it. Well, I 
 may as w r ell come to the point at once, man, and 
 bring up my reserve into the front of the battle. 
 Here is Davy Muir, the quartermaster, is disposed 
 to make your daughter his wife, and he has just 
 got me to open the matter to you, being fearful 
 of compromitting his own dignity — and I may as 
 well add, that half the youngsters in the fort 
 toast her, and talk of her from morning till 
 night.” 
 
 “She is much honored, sir,” returned the 
 father, stiffly, “but I trust the gentlemen will 
 find something more worthy of them to talk 
 about, ere long. I hope to see her the wife of an 
 honest man, before many weeks, sir.” 
 
 “Yes, Davy is an honest man, and that is 
 more than can be said of all in the quartermasters 
 department, I’m thinking, sergeant,” returned 
 Lundie, with a slight smile. “Well, then, may I 
 tell the Cupid-stricken youth that the matter is 
 as good as settled ? ” 
 
 “ I thank your honor, but Mabel is betrothed 
 to another.” 
 
 “The devil she is! That will produce a stir 
 in the fort; though I’m not sorry to hear it, 
 either, for to be frank with you, sergeant, I’m no 
 great admirer of unequal matches.” 
 
 “ I think with your honor, and have no desire 
 to see my daughter an officer’s lady. If she can 
 get as high as her mother was before her, it ought 
 to satisfy any reasonable woman.” 
 
 “ And may I ask, sergeant, who is the lucky 
 man that you intend to call son-in-law ? ” 
 
 “ The Pathfinder, your honor.” 
 
 “ Pathfinder ! ” 
 
 “ The same, Major Duncan ; and in naming 
 him to you, I give you his whole history. No 
 one is better known on this frontier than my 
 honest, brave, true-hearted friend.” 
 
 “ All that is true enough ; but is he, after all, 
 the sort of person to make a girl of twenty hap- 
 py ? ” 
 
 “ Why not, your honor ? the man is at tha 
 head of his calling. There is no other guide, or 
 scout, connected with the army, that has half th« 
 
64 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. * 
 
 reputation of Pathfinder, or who deserves to have i 
 it half as well.” 
 
 “ Very true, sergeant ; but is the reputation of 
 a scout exactly the sort of renown to captivate a 
 girl’s fancy?” 
 
 “ Talking of girls’ fancies, sir, is, in my humble 
 opinion, much like talking of ft recruit’s judgment. 
 If we were to take the movements of the awk- 
 ward squad, sir, as a guide, we should never form 
 a decent line in battalion, Major Duncan.” 
 
 “But your daughter has nothing awkward 
 about her ; for a genteeler girl, of her class, could 
 not be found in old Albin itself. Is she of your 
 way of thinking, in this matter ? — though I sup- 
 pose she must be, as you say she is betrothed.” 
 
 “ We have not yet conversed on the subject, 
 your honor, but I consider her mind as good as 
 made up, from several little circumstances that 
 might be named.” 
 
 “And what are these circumstances, ser- 
 geant?” asked the major, who began to take 
 more interest than he had at first felt, in the sub- 
 ject. “ I confess a little curiosity to learn some- 
 thing about a woman’s mind, being, as you know, 
 a bachelor myself.” 
 
 “ Why, your honor, when I speak of the Path- 
 finder to the girl, she always looks me full in the 
 face ; chimes in with every thing I say in his favor, 
 and has a frank, open way with her, which says 
 as much as if she half considered him, already, as 
 a husband.” 
 
 “Hum! — and these signs you think, Dun- 
 ham, are faithful tokens of your daughter’s feel- 
 ings?” 
 
 “ I do, your honor, for they strike me as nat- 
 ural. When I find a man, sir, who looks me full 
 in the face, while he praises an officer — for, beg- 
 ging your honor’s pardon, the men will sometimes 
 pass their strictures on their betters — and when 
 I find a man looking me in the eyes as he praises 
 his captain, I always set it down that the fellow is 
 honest, and means what he says.” 
 
 “ Is there not some material difference in the 
 age of the intended bridegroom and that of his 
 pretty bride, sergeant ? ” 
 
 “You are quite right, sir; Pathfinder is well 
 advanced toward forty, and Mabel has every 
 prospect of happiness that a young woman can 
 derive from the certainty of possessing an expe- 
 rienced husband. I was quite forty myself, your 
 honor, when I married her mother.” 
 
 “ But will your daughter be as likely to admire 
 a green hunting-shirt, such as that our worthy 
 guide wears, with a foxskin cap, as the smart 
 uniform of the 55th ? ” 
 
 “Perhaps not, sir; and, therefore, she will 
 
 have the merit of self-denial, which always make* 
 a young woman wiser and better.” 
 
 “ And are you not afraid that she may be left 
 a widow while still a young woman ? What be- 
 tween wild beasts and wilder savages, Pathfinder 
 may be said to carry his life in his hand.” 
 
 “ ‘ Every bullet has its billet, ’ Lundie, ” for ao 
 the major was fond of being called, in his momenta 
 of condescension, and when not engaged in mili- 
 tary affairs, “and no man in the 55th can call 
 himself beyond, or above, the chances of sudden 
 death. In that particular, Mabel would gain noth- 
 ing by a change. Besides, sir, if I may speak 
 freely on such a subject, I much doubt if ever 
 Pathfinder dies in battle, or by any of the sudden 
 chances of the wilderness.” 
 
 “ And why so, sergeant ? ” asked the major, 
 looking at his inferior with the sort of reverence 
 which a Scot of his day was more apt than at 
 present to entertain for mysterious agencies. 
 “ He is a soldier, so far as danger is concerned, 
 and one that is much more than usually exposed ; 
 and, being free of his person, why should he ex- 
 pect to escape, when others do not ? ” 
 
 “ I do not believe, your honor, that the Path- 
 finder considers his own ehances better than any 
 one’s else, but the man will never die by a bullet. 
 I have seen him so often, handling his rifle with 
 as much composure as if it were a shepherd’s 
 crook, in the midst of the heaviest showers of 
 bullets, and under so many extraordinary circum- 
 stances, that I do not think Providence means he 
 should ever fall in that manner. And yet, if there 
 be a man in his majesty’s dominions who really 
 deserves such a death, it is Pathfinder ! ” 
 
 “ We never know, sergeant,” returned Lundie, 
 with a countenance that was grave with thought, 
 “ and the less we say about it, perhaps, the bet- 
 ter. But will your daughter — Mabel, I think, 
 you call her — will Mabel be as willing to accept 
 one, who, after all, is a mere hanger-on of the 
 army, as to take one from the service itself? 
 There is no hope of promotion for the guide 
 sergeant ! ” 
 
 “ He is at the head of his corps, already, your 
 honor. In short, Mabel has made up her mind 
 on this subject, and, as your honor has had the 
 condescension to speak to me about Mr. Muir, I 
 trust you will be kind enough to say that the girl 
 is as good as billeted for life.” 
 
 « Well, well, this is your own matter, and now 
 — Sergeant Dunham ! ” 
 
 “Your honor,” said the other, rising, and giv- 
 ing the customary salute. 
 
 “You have been told it is my intention to 
 send you down among the Thousand Islands, for 
 
PLANNING FOR MABEL’S MARRIAGE. 
 
 65 
 
 the next month. All the old subalterns have had 
 their tours of duty in that quarter — all that I like 
 to trust, at least — and it has, at length, come to 
 your turn. Lieutenant Muir, it is true, claims 
 his right, but, being quartermaster, I do not like 
 to break up well-established arrangements. Are 
 the men drafted ? ” 
 
 “ Every thing is ready, your honor. The draft 
 is made, and I understood that the canoe which 
 got in last night, brought a message to say that 
 the party already below is looking out for the 
 relief.” 
 
 “ It did, and you must sail the day after to-mor- 
 row, if not to-morrow night. It will be wise, per- 
 haps, to sail in the dark.” 
 
 “So Jasper thinks, Major Duncan, and I 
 know no one more to be depended on, in such an 
 affair, than young Jasper Western.” 
 
 “Young Jasper Eau-douce!” said Lundie, a 
 slight smile gathering around his usually stern 
 mouth. “Will that lad be of your party, 
 sergeant ? ” 
 
 “Your honor. will remember that the Scud 
 never quits port without him.” 
 
 “ True, but all general rules have their excep- 
 tions. Have I not seen a seafaring person about 
 the fort within the last few days ? ” 
 
 “ No doubt, your honor ; it is Master Cap, a 
 brother-in-law of mine, who brought my daughter 
 from below.” 
 
 “ Why not put him in the Scud for this cruise, 
 sergeant, and leave Jasper behind ? Your broth- 
 er-in-law would like the variety of a fresh-water 
 cruise, and you would enjoy more of his company.” 
 
 “ I intended to ask your honor’s permission to 
 take him along, but he must go as a volunteer. 
 Jasper is too brave a lad to be turned out of his 
 command without a reason, Major Duncan ; and 
 I’m afraid brother Cap despises fresh water too 
 much to do duty on it.” 
 
 “ Quite right, sergeant, and I leave all this to 
 your own discretion. Eau-douce must retain his 
 command, on second thoughts. You intend that 
 Pathfinder shall also be of the party ? ” 
 
 “ If your honor approves of it. There will be 
 service for both the guides, the Indian as well as 
 the white man.” 
 
 “ I think you are right. Well, sergeant, I 
 wish you good luck in the enterprise ; and re- 
 member, the post is to be destroyed and aban- 
 doned when your command is withdrawn. It 
 will have done its work by that time, or we shall 
 have failed entirely, and it is too ticklish a posi- 
 tion to be maintained unnecessarily. You can 
 retire.” 
 
 Serjeant Dunham gave the customarv salute, 
 
 31 
 
 turned on his heels as if they had been pivots, 
 and had got the door nearly drawn-to after him, 
 when he was suddenly recalled. 
 
 “ I had forgotten, sergeant, the younger offi- 
 cers have begged for a shooting-match, and to- 
 morrow has been named for the day. All com- 
 petitors will be admitted, and the prizes will be a 
 silver-mounted powder-horn, a leathern flask-dit- 
 to,” reading from a piece of paper, “as I soe 
 by the professional jargon of this bill, and a silk 
 calash for a lady. The latter is to enable the vic- 
 tor to show his gallantry, by making an offering 
 of it to her he best loves.” 
 
 “ All very agreeable, your honor, at least to 
 him that succeeds. Is the Pathfinder to be per- 
 mitted to enter ? ” 
 
 “ I do not well see how he can be excluded, 
 if he choose to come forward. Latterly, I have 
 observed that he takes no share in these sports, 
 probably from a conviction of his own unequalled 
 skill.” 
 
 “ That’s it, Major Duncan ; the honest fellow 
 knows there is not a man on the frontier who can 
 equal him, and he does not wish to spoil the 
 pleasure of others. I think we may trust to his 
 delicacy in any thing, sir. Perhaps it may be as 
 well to let him have his own way.” 
 
 “ In this instance we must, sergeant. Wheth 
 er he will be as successful in all others, remains 
 to be seen. I wish you good-evening, Dunham.’’ 
 
 The sergeant now withdrew, leaving Duncan 
 of Lundie to his own thoughts. That they were 
 not altogether disagreeable, was to be inferred 
 from the smiles which occasionally covered a 
 countenance that was hard and martial in its 
 usual expression, though there were moments in 
 which all its severe sobriety prevailed. Half an 
 hour might have passed, when a tap at the door 
 was answered by a direction to enter. A middle- 
 aged man, in the dress of an officer, but whose 
 uniform wanted the usual smartness of the pro- 
 fession, made his appearance, and was saluted as 
 “Mr. Muir.” 
 
 “ I have come, sir, at your bidding, to know 
 my fortune,” said the quartermaster, in a strong 
 Scotch accent, as soon as he had taken the seat 
 which was proffered to him. “ To say the truth 
 to you, Major Duncan, this girl is making as 
 much havoc in the garrison as the French did bo 
 fore Ty ; I never witnessed so general a rout, in 
 so short a time ! ” 
 
 “ Surely, Davy, you don’t mean to persuade 
 me that your young and unsophisticated heart ia 
 in such a flame, after one week’s ignition. Why 
 man, this is worse than the affair in Scotland, 
 where it was said the heat within was go intense 
 
66 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 that it just burnt a hole through your own pre- 
 cious body, and left a place for all the lassies to 
 peer in at, to see what the combustible material 
 was worth.” 
 
 “ Ye’ll have your own way, Major Duncan, and 
 vour father and mother would have theirs before 
 ye, even if the enemy were in the camp. I see 
 nothing so extraordinar’ in young people’s follow- 
 ing the bent of their inclinations and wishes.” 
 
 “ But you’ve followed yours so often, Davy, 
 that I should think, by this time, it had lost the 
 edge of novelty. Including the informal affair in 
 Scotland, when you were a lad, you’ve been mar- 
 ried four times already.” 
 
 “ Only three, major, as I hope to get another 
 wife ! I’ve not yet had my number ; no — no — 
 only three.” 
 
 “I’m thinking, Davy, you don’t include the 
 first affair I mentioned ; that in which there was 
 no parson.” 
 
 “And why should I, major? The courts de- 
 cided that it was no marriage, and what more 
 could a man want ? The woman took advantage of 
 a slight amorous propensity, that may be a weak- 
 ness in my disposition, perhaps, and inveigled me 
 into a contract that was found to be illegal.” 
 
 “ If I remember right, Muir, there were thought 
 to be two sides to that question, in the time of 
 it!” 
 
 “ It would be but an indifferent question, my 
 dear major, that hadn’t two sides to it ; and I’ve 
 known many that had three. But the poor wom- 
 an’s dead, and there was no issue, so nothing 
 came of it, after all. Then I was particularly un- 
 fortunate with my second wife — I say second, 
 major, out of deference to you, and on the mere 
 supposition that the first was a marriage at all — 
 but, first or second, I was particularly unfortunate 
 with Jeannie Graham, who died in the first lus- 
 trum, leaving neither chick nor chiel behind her. 
 I do think if Jeannie had survived, I never should 
 have turned my thoughts toward another wife.” 
 
 “ But as she did not, you married twice after 
 her death — and are desirous of doing so a third 
 time.” 
 
 “The truth can never justly be gainsaid, 
 Major Duncan, and I am always ready to avow it. 
 I’m thinking, Lundie, you are melancholar’, this 
 fine evening ? ” 
 
 “No, Muir, not melancholy absolutely, but 
 a little thoughtful, I confess. I was looking 
 back to my boyish days, when I, the laird’s son, 
 and you the parson’s, roamed about our native 
 hills, happy and careless boys, taking little 
 heed to the future; and then have followed 
 some thoughts that may be a little painful, 
 
 concerning that future, as it has turned out 
 to be.” 
 
 “ Surely, Lundie, ye do not complain of your 
 portion of it. You’ve risen to be a major, and 
 will soon be a lieutenant-colonel, if letters tell 
 the truth ; while I am just one step higher than 
 when your honored father gave me my first com- 
 mission, and a poor deevil of a quartermaster.” 
 
 “ And the four wives ? ” 
 
 “ Three, Lundie ; three only that were legal, 
 even under our own liberal and sanctified laws.” 
 
 “Well, then, let it be three. Ye know, 
 Davy,” said Major Duncan, insensibly dropping 
 into the pronunciation and dialect .of his youth, 
 as is much the practice with educated Scotch- 
 men as they warm with a subject that comes 
 near the heart — “ ye know, Davy, that my own 
 choice has long been made, and in how anxious 
 and hope-wearied a manner I’ve waited for that 
 happy hour when I can call the woman I’ve so 
 long loved a wife ; and here have you without 
 fortune, name, birth, or merit — I mean particular 
 merit — ” 
 
 “ Na, na — dinna say that, Lundie — the Muirs 
 are of gude bluid.” 
 
 “Well, then, without aught but bluid ye’ve 
 wived four times — ” 
 
 “I tall ye but thrice, Lundie. Ye’ll weaken 
 auld friendship if ye call it four.” 
 
 “ Put it at ye’r own number, Davy, and it’s 
 far more than ye’r share. Our lives have been 
 very different on the score of matrimony, at 
 least ; you must allow that, my old friend.” 
 
 “And which do you think has been the 
 gainer, major, speaking as frankly thegither as 
 we did when lads.” 
 
 “ Nay, I’ve nothing to conceal. My days 
 have passed in hope deferred, while yours have 
 passed in — ” 
 
 “ Not in hope realized, I give you mine honor, 
 Major Duncan,” interrupted the quartermaster. 
 “Each new experiment I have thought might 
 prove an advantage, but disappointment seems 
 the lot of man !— Ah ! this is a vain world of 
 ours, Lundie, it must be owned ; and in nothing 
 vainer than in matrimony.” 
 
 “ And yet you are ready to put your neck into 
 the noose for the fifth time ? ” 
 
 “I desire to say it will be but the fourth, 
 Major Duncan,” said the quartermaster, posi- 
 tively; then instantly changing the expression 
 of his face to one of boyish rapture, he added : 
 “ But this Mabel Dunham is a rara avis ! Our 
 Scotch lassies are fair and pleasant, but it must 
 be owned these colonials are of surpassing come- 
 liness.” 
 
THE QUARTERMASTER. 
 
 “You will do well to recollect your com- 
 mission and blood, Davy : I believe all four of 
 your wives — ” 
 
 “ I wish, my dear Lundie, ye’d be more ac- 
 curate in your arithmetic — three times one make 
 three.” 
 
 “ All three, then, were what might be termed 
 gentlewomen.” 
 
 “That’s just it, major. Three were gentle- 
 women, as you say, and the connections were 
 suitable.” 
 
 “ And the fourth being the daughter of my 
 father’s gardener, the connection was unsuitable. 
 But have you no fear that marrying the child of 
 a non-commissioned officer who is in the same 
 corps with yourself, will have the effect to lessen 
 your consequence in the regiment ? ” 
 
 “ That’s just been my weakness through life, 
 Major Duncan ; for I’ve always married without 
 regard to consequences. Every man has his 
 besetting sin, and matrimony, I fear, is mine. 
 And now that we have discussed what may be 
 called the principles of the connection, I will 
 just ask if you did me the favor to speak to the 
 sergeant on the trifling affair ? ” 
 
 “ I did, David, and am sorry to say for your 
 hopes that I see no great chance of your succeed- 
 ing.” 
 
 “ Not succeeding ! — An officer, and a quar- 
 termaster into the bargain, and not succeed with 
 a sergeant’s daughter ! ” 
 
 “ It’s just that, Davy.” 
 
 “ And why not, Lundie ? — will you have the 
 goodness to answer just that ? ” 
 
 “ The girl is betrothed. Hand plighted, word 
 passed, love pledged — no, hang me if I believe 
 that either ; but she is betrothed.” 
 
 “ Well, that’s an obstacle, it must be avowed, 
 major ; though it counts for little, if the heart is 
 free.” 
 
 “ Quite true ; and I think it probable the 
 heart is free in this case, for the intended hus- 
 band appears to De the choice of the father rath- 
 er than of the daughter.” 
 
 “ And who may it be, major ? ” asked the 
 quartermaster, who viewed the whole matter 
 with the philosophy and coolness that are ac- 
 quired by use. “ I do not recollect any plausible 
 suitor that is likely to stand in my way.” 
 
 “ No, you are the only plausible suitor on 
 the frontier, Davy. The happy man is Path- 
 finder.” 
 
 “ Pathfinder, Major Duncan ? ” 
 
 “ No more, nor any less, David Muir. Path- 
 finder is the man ; but it may relieve your jeal- 
 osy a little to know that, in my judgment at 
 
 67 
 
 least, it is a match of the father’s, rather than of 
 the daughter’s seeking.” 
 
 “ I thought as much ! ” exclaimed the quar- 
 termaster, drawing a long breath, like one who 
 felt relieved ; “ it’s quite impossible, that with 
 my experience in human nature — ” 
 
 “ Particularly hu-woman’s nature, David ! ” 
 
 “ Ye will have ye’r joke, Lundie, let who will 
 suffer ! But I did not think it possible I could 
 be deceived as to the young woman’s inclinations, 
 which I think I may boldly pronounce to be al- 
 together above the condition of Pathfinder. As 
 for the individual himself— why, time will show.” 
 
 “ Now, tell me frankly, Davy Muir,” said Lun- 
 die, stopping short in his walk, and looking the 
 other earnestly in the face, with a comical ex- 
 pression of surprise, that rendered the veteran’s 
 countenance ridiculously earnest — “ do you real- 
 ly suppose a girl like the daughter of Sergeant 
 Dunham can take a serious fancy to a man of 
 your years, and appearance, and experience, I 
 might add ? ” 
 
 “ Hout awa’, Lundie ! ye dinna know the sax, 
 and that’s the reason ye’r unmarried in ye’r forty- 
 fifth year. It’s a fearfu’ time ye’ve been a bach- 
 elor, major ! ” 
 
 “And what may be your age, Lieutenant 
 Muir, if I may presume to ask so delicate a ques- 
 tion ? ” 
 
 “ Forty-seven ; I’ll no deny it, Lundie ; and if 
 I get Mabel, there’ll be just a wife for every twa 
 lustrums ! But I didna think Sergeant Dunham 
 would be so humble-minded as to dream of giv- 
 ing that sweet lass of his to one like the Path- 
 finder ! ” 
 
 “ There’s no dream about it, Davy ; the man 
 is as serious as a soldier about to be flogged.” 
 
 “ Well, well, major, we are auld friends ” — 
 both ran into the Scotch, or avoided it, as they 
 approached or drew away from their younger 
 days, in the dialogue — “ and ought to know how 
 to take and give a joke, off duty. It is possible 
 the worthy mail has not understood my hints, or 
 he never would have thought of such a thing. 
 The difference between an officer’s consort and a 
 guide’s woman is as vast as that between the an- 
 tiquity of Scotland and the antiquity of America. 
 I’m auld bluid, too, Lundie.” 
 
 “ Take my word for it, Davy, your antiquity 
 will do you no good, in this affair ; and as for 
 your blood, it is not older than your bones. 
 Well, well, man, ye know the sergeant’s answer, 
 and so you perceive that my influence, on which 
 you counted so much, can do naught for ye. Let 
 us take a glass thegither, Davy, for auld ac- 
 quaintance’ sake, and then ye’ll be doing well to 
 
68 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 remember the party that marches the morrow, 
 and to forget Mabel Dunham as fast as ever you 
 can.” 
 
 “ Ah ! major, I have always found it easier to 
 forget a wife than to forget a sweetheart ! When 
 a couple are fairly married, all is settled but the 
 death, as one may say, which must finally part 
 us all ; and it seems to me awfu’ irreverent to 
 disturb the departed ; whereas, there is so much 
 anxiety, and hope, and felicity, in expectation 
 like, with the lassie, that it keeps thought alive.” 
 
 “ That is just my idea of your situation, Davy, 
 for I never supposed you expected any more fe- 
 licity with either of your wives. Now, I’ve heard 
 of fellows who were so stupid as to look forward 
 to happiness with their wives, even beyond the 
 grave. I drink to your success, or to your speedy 
 recovery from this attack, lieutenant ; and I ad- 
 monish you to be more cautious in future, as 
 some of these violent cases may yet carry you 
 off.” 
 
 “Many thanks, dear major; and a speedy 
 termination to an old courtship, of which I know 
 something. This is real mountain-dew, Lundie, 
 and it warms the heart like a gleam of bonny 
 Scotland. As for the men you’ve just mentioned, 
 they could have had but one wife apiece, for 
 where there are several, the deeds of the women 
 themselves may carry them different ways. I 
 think a reasonable husband ought to be satisfied 
 with passing his allotted time with any particular 
 wife, in this world, and not to go about moping 
 for things unattainable. I’m infinitely obliged to 
 you, Major Duncan, for this and all your other 
 acts of friendship ; and if you could but add an- 
 other, I should think you had not altogether for- 
 gotten the playfellow of your boyhood.” 
 
 « Well, Davy, if the request be reasonable, 
 and such as a superior ought to grant, out with 
 it, man.” 
 
 “ If ye could only contrive a little service for 
 me down among the Thousand Isles for a fort- 
 night or so, I think this matter might be settled 
 to the satisfaction of all parties. Just remember, 
 Lundie, the lassie is the only marriageable white 
 female on this frontier ! ” 
 
 “ There is always duty for one in your line at 
 a post, however small ; but this below can be 
 done by the sergeant as well as by the quarter- 
 master-general, and better too.” 
 
 “ But not better than by a regimental officer. 
 There is great waste, in common, among the or- 
 derlies.’ 
 
 “ I’ll think of it, Muir,” said the major, laugh- 
 ing, “ and you shall have my answer in the morn- 
 ing. Here will be a fine occasion, man, the mor- 
 
 row, to show yourself off before the lady ; you 
 are expert with the rifle, and prizes are to be 
 won. Make up your mind to display your skill, 
 and who knows what may yet happen before the 
 Scud sails ? ” 
 
 “ I’m thinking most of the young men will try 
 their hands in this sport, major? ” 
 
 “ That will they, and some of the old ones, 
 too, if you appear. To keep you in countenance, 
 I’ll try a shot or two myself, Davy ; and you 
 know I have some name that way.” 
 
 “It might, indeed, do good! The female 
 heart, Major Duncan, is susceptible in many dif- 
 ferent modes, and sometimes in a way that the 
 rules of philosophy might reject. Some require 
 a suitor to sit down before them, as it might be, 
 in a regular siege, and only capitulate when the 
 place can hold out no longer ; others, again, like 
 to be carried by storm ; while there are hussies 
 who can only be caught by leading them into an 
 ambush. The former is the most creditable and 
 officer-like process, perhaps, but I must say I 
 think the last the most pleasing.” 
 
 “ An opinion formed from experience, out of 
 all question. And what of the storming par- 
 ties ? ” 
 
 “ They may do for younger men, Lundie,” re- 
 turned the quartermaster, rising and winking, a 
 liberty that he often took with his commanding 
 officer on the score of a long intimacy ; “ every 
 period of life has its necessities, and at forty-seven 
 it’s just as well to trust a little to the head. I 
 wish you a very good-even, Major Duncan, and 
 freedom from gout, with a sweet and refreshing 
 sleep.” 
 
 “ The same to yourself, Mr. Muir, with many 
 thanks. Remember the passage of arms for the 
 morrow.” 
 
 The quartermaster withdrew, leaving Lundie 
 in his library to reflect on what had just passed. 
 Use had so accustomed Major Duncan to Lieu- 
 tenant Muir and all his traits and humors, that 
 the conduct of the latter did not strike the for- 
 mer with the same force as it will probably strike 
 the reader. In truth, while all men act under 
 one common law that is termed Nature, the vari- 
 eties in their dispositions, modes of judging, feel- 
 ings, and selfishness, are infinite. 
 
A SHOOTIN G-MATCH. 
 
 69 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 •Compel the hawke to sit that is unmanned, 
 
 Or make the hound, untaught, to draw the deere, 
 
 Or bring the free against his will in band. 
 
 Or move the sad a pleasant tale to heere, 
 
 Your time is lost, and you no whit the neere 1 
 So love ne learnes, of force the heart to knit : 
 
 She serves but those that feel sweet fancies’ fit.” 
 
 Mirror for Magistrates. 
 
 It is not often that hope is rewarded by frui- 
 tion as completely as the wishes of the young 
 men of the garrison were met by the state of the 
 weather on the succeeding day. It may be no 
 more than the ordinary waywardness of man, 
 but the Americans are a little accustomed to 
 taking pride in things that the means of intelli- 
 gent comparisons would probably show were, in 
 reality, of a very inferior quality, while they 
 overlook or undervalue advantages that place 
 them certainly on a level with, if not above, 
 most of their fellow-creatures. Among the latter 
 is the climate, which, as a whole, though far 
 from perfect, is infinitely more agreeable, and 
 quite as healthy, as those of most of the coun- 
 tries which are loudest in their denunciations 
 of it. 
 
 The heats of summer were little felt at Oswe- 
 go, at the period of which we are writing ; for 
 the shade of the forest, added to the refreshing 
 breezes from the lake, so far reduced the influ- 
 ence of the sun, as to render the nights always 
 cool, and the days seldom oppressive. 
 
 It was now September, a month in which the 
 strong gales of the coast often appear to force 
 themselves across the country as far as the great 
 lakes, where the inland sailor sometimes feels 
 that genial influence which characterizes the 
 winds of the ocean ; invigorating his frame, cheer- 
 ing his spirits, and arousing his moral force. 
 Such a day was that on which the garrison of 
 Oswego assembled, to witness what its command- 
 er had jocularly called a “passage of arms.” 
 Lundie was a scholar, in military matters at 
 least, and it was one of his sources of honest 
 pride to direct the reading and thoughts of the 
 young men under his orders, to the more intel- 
 lectual parts of their profession. For one in his 
 situation, his library was both good and exten- 
 sive, and its books were freely lent to all who 
 desired to use them. Among other whims that 
 liad found their way into the garrison, through 
 these means, was a relish for the sort of amuse- 
 ment in which it was now about to indulge ; and 
 around which some chronicles of the days of 
 chivalry had induced them to throw a parade and 
 
 romance, that were not unsuitei to the charac- 
 ters and habits of soldiers, or to the insulated 
 and wild post occupied by this particular garri- 
 son. While so earnestly bent on pleasure, how- 
 ever, they on whom that duty devolved did not 
 neglect the safety of the garrison. One stand- 
 ing on the ramparts of the fort, and gazing on 
 the waste of glittering water that bounded the 
 view all along the northern horizon, and on the 
 slumbering and seemingly boundless forest, that 
 filled the other half of the panorama, would have 
 fancied the spot the very abode of peacefulness 
 and security; but Duncan of Lundie too well 
 knew that the woods might at any moment give 
 up their hundreds, bent on the destruction of 
 the fort and all it contained, and that even the 
 treacherous lake offered a highway of easy ap- 
 proach, by which his more civilized and scarcely 
 less wily foes, the French, could come upon him, 
 at an unwelcome and unguarded moment. Par- 
 ties were sent out, under old and vigilant officers, 
 men who cared little for the sports of the day, 
 to scour the forest ; and one entire company held 
 the fort, under arms, with orders to maintain a 
 vigilance as strict as if an enemy of superior 
 force was known to be near. With these pre- 
 cautions the remainder of the officers and men 
 abandoned themselves, without apprehension, to 
 the business of the morning. 
 
 The spot selected for the sports was a sort of 
 esplanade, a little west of the fort, and on the 
 immediate bank of the lake. It had been cleared 
 of its trees and stumps, that it might answer the 
 purpose of a parade-ground, as it possessed the 
 advantages of having its rear protected by the 
 water, and one of its flanks by the works. Men 
 drilling on it could be attacked, consequently, on 
 two sides only ; and as the cleared space beyond 
 it, in the direction of the west and south, was 
 large, any assailants would be compelled to quit 
 the cover of the woods, before they could make 
 an approach sufficiently near to render them dan- 
 gerous. 
 
 Although the regular arms of the regiment 
 were muskets, some fifty rifles were produced on 
 the present occasion. Every officer had one, as 
 a part of his private provision for amusement ; 
 many belonged to the scouts and friendly Indians, 
 of whom more or less were always hanging about 
 the fort ; and there was a public provision of 
 them, for the use of those who followed the game 
 with the express object of obtaining supplies. 
 Among those who carried the weapon, were some 
 five or six, who had reputations for knowing how 
 to use it particularly well — so well, indeed, 
 as to have given them a celebrity on the frontier ; 
 
THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 70 
 
 twice that number who were believed to be much 
 better than common ; and many who would have 
 been thought expert, in almost any situation, but 
 the precise one in which they now happened to 
 be placed. 
 
 The distance was a hundred yards, and the 
 weapon was to be used without a rest ; the tar- 
 get, a board, with' the customary circular lines in 
 white paint, having the bull’s-eye in the centre. 
 The first trials in skill commenced with chal- 
 lenges among the more ignoble of the competitors, 
 to display their steadiness and dexterity in idle 
 competition. None but the common men engaged 
 in this strife, which had little to interest the 
 spectators, among whom no officer had yet ap- 
 peared. 
 
 Most of the soldiers were Scotch, the regi- 
 ment having been raised at Stirling and its vicin- 
 ity, not many years before ; though, as in the 
 case of Sergeant Dunham, many Americans had 
 joined it since its arrival in the colonies. As a 
 matter of course, the provincials were generally 
 the most expert fnarksmen ; and, after a desultory 
 trial of half an hour, it was necessarily conceded 
 that a youth, who had been born in the colony 
 of New York, and who, coming of Dutch extrac- 
 tion, bore the euphonious name of Van Valken- 
 burg, but was familiarly called Follock, was the 
 most expert of all who had yet tried their skill. 
 It was just as this opinion prevailed, that the 
 oldest captain, accompanied by most of the gen- 
 tlemen and ladies of the fort, appeared on the 
 parade. A train of some twenty females of hum- 
 bler condition followed, among whom was seen 
 the well-turned form, intelligent, blooming, ani- 
 mated countenance, and neat, becoming attire of 
 Mabel Dunham. 
 
 Of females who were officially recognized as 
 belonging to the class of ladies, there were but 
 three in the fort, all of whom were officers’ wives ; 
 staid, matronly women, with the simplicity of the 
 habits of middle life, singularly mixed in their 
 deportment with their notions of professional 
 superiority, the rights and duties of caste, and 
 the etiquette of rank. The other women were 
 the wives of non-commissioned officers and pri- 
 vates ; Mabel being strictly, as had been stated 
 by the quartermaster, the only real candidate 
 for matrimony among her sex. There were a 
 dozen other girls, it is true, but they were still 
 classed among the children, none of them being 
 yet of an age to elevate them into objects of 
 legitimate admiration. 
 
 Some little preparation had been made for the 
 proper reception of the females, who were placed 
 on a low staging of planks, near the immediate 
 
 bank of the lake. In this vicinity the prizes wer« 
 suspended from a post. Great care was taken to 
 reserve the front seat of the stage for the three 
 ladies and their children ; while Mabel, and those 
 who belonged to the non-commissioned officers 
 of the regiment, occupied the second. The wives 
 and daughters of the privates were huddled to- 
 gether in the rear, some standing, and some 
 sitting, as they could find room. Mabel, who had 
 already been admitted to the society of the 
 officers’ wives, on the footing of an humble com- 
 panion, was a good deal noticed by the ladies in 
 front, who had a proper appreciation of modest 
 self-respect and gentle refinement, though they 
 were all fully aware of the value of rank, more 
 particularly in a garrison. 
 
 As soon as this important portion of the spec- 
 tators had got into their places, Lundie gave 
 orders for the trial of skill to proceed, in the 
 manner that had been prescribed in his previous 
 orders. Some eight or ten of the best marksmen 
 of the garrison now took possession of the stand, 
 and began to fire in succession. Among them 
 were officers and men indiscriminately placed, 
 nor were the casual visitors in the fort excluded 
 from the competition. As might have been ex- 
 pected of men, whose amusements and comfort- 
 able subsistence equally depended on skill in the 
 use of their weapons, it was soon found that they 
 were all sufficiently expert to hit the bull’s-eye, 
 or the white spot in the centre of the target. 
 Others, who succeeded them, it is true, were less 
 sure, their bullets striking in the different circles 
 that surrounded the centre of the target, without 
 touching it. 
 
 According to the rules of the day, none could 
 proceed to the second trial who had failed in tho 
 first ; and the adjutant of the place, who acted as 
 master of the ceremonies, or marshal of the day, 
 called upon the successful adventurers by name, 
 to get ready for the next effort, while be gave 
 notice that those who failed to present themselves 
 for the shot at the bull’s-eye, would necessarily 
 be excluded from all the higher trials. Just at 
 this moment, Lundie, the quartermaster, and 
 Jasper Eau-douce appeared in the group at the 
 stand, while the Pathfinder walked leisurely on 
 the ground, without his beloved rifle — for him a 
 measure so unusual, as to be understood by all 
 present as a proof that he did not consider him- 
 self a competitor for the honors of the day. All 
 made way for Major Duncan, who, as he ap- 
 proached the stand, in a good-humored way took 
 his station, levelled his rifle carelesly, and fired. 
 The bullet missed the required mark by several 
 inches. 
 
DAVY MUIR’S SCIENCE. 
 
 71 
 
 “Major Duncan is excluded from the other 
 trials I” proclaimed the adjutant, in a voice so 
 strong and confident, that all the elder officers 
 and sergeants well understood that this failure 
 was preconcerted, while the younger gentlemen 
 and the privates felt new encouragement to pro- 
 ceed, on account of the evident impartiality with 
 which the laws of the sports were administered, 
 nothing being so attractive to the unsophisti- 
 cated, as the appearance of rigorous justice, and 
 nothing so rare as its actual administration. 
 
 “ Now, Master Eau-douce, comes your turn,” 
 said Muir, “ and if you do not beat the major, I 
 shall say that your hand is better skilled with the 
 oar than with the rifle.” 
 
 Jasper’s handsome face flushed, he stepped 
 upon the stand, cast a hasty glance at Mabel, 
 whose pretty form he ascertained was bending 
 eagerly forward, as if to note the result, dropped 
 the barrel of his rifle, with but little apparent 
 care, into the palm of his left hand, raised the 
 muzzle for a single instant, with exceeding steadi- 
 ness, and fired. The bullet passed directly 
 through the centre of the bull’s-eye, much the 
 best shot of the morning, since the others had 
 merely touched the paint. 
 
 “ Well performed, Master Jasper,” said Muir, 
 as soon as the result was declared ; “ and a shot 
 that might have done credit to an older head and 
 a more experienced eye. I’m thinking, notwith- 
 standing, there was some of a youngster’s luck in 
 it, for ye were no partic’lar in the aim ye took. 
 Ye may be quick, Eau-douce, in the movement, 
 but ye’r not philosophic nor scientific in ye’r 
 management of the weapon. — Now, Sergeant Dun- 
 ham, I’ll thank you to request the ladies to give 
 a closer attention than common, for I’m about to 
 make that use of the rifle which may be called 
 the intellectual. Jasper would have killed, I 
 allow ; but then there would not have been half 
 the satisfaction in receiving such a shot, as in 
 receiving one that is discharged scientifically.” 
 
 All this time the quartermaster was preparing 
 himself for the scientific trial; but he delayed 
 his aim until he saw that the eye of Mabel, in 
 common with those of her companions, was fast- 
 ened on him in curiosity. As the others left him 
 room, out of respect to his rank, no one stood 
 near the competitor but his commanding officer, 
 to whom he now said in his familiar manner : 
 
 “Ye see, Lundie, that something is to be 
 gained by exciting a female’s curiosity. It’s an 
 active sentiment, is curiosity, and, properly im- 
 proved, may lead to gentler inclinations in the 
 end.” 
 
 “ Very true, Davy ; but ye keep us all waiting | 
 
 while ye make your preparations ; and here is 
 Pathfinder drawing near to catch a lesson from 
 your greater experience.” 
 
 “Well, Pathfinder, and so you have come to 
 get an idea too, concerning the philosophy of 
 shooting ! I do not wish to hide my light under 
 a bushel, and ye’re welcome to all ye’ll learn. 
 Do ye mean to try a shot yersel’, man ? ” 
 
 “ Why should I, quartermaster — why should 
 I ? I want none of the prizes ; and as for honor, 
 I have enough of that, if it’s any honor to shoot 
 better than yourself. I’m not a woman to wear 
 a calash.” 
 
 “ Very true ; but ye might find a woman that 
 is precious in your eyes to wear it for ye, as — ” 
 
 “ Come, Davy,” interrupted the major, “ your 
 shot or a retreat. The adjutant is getting to be 
 impatient.” 
 
 “The quartermaster’s department, and the 
 adjutant’s department, are seldom compliable, 
 Lundie ; but I’m ready. — Stand a little aside, Path- 
 finder, and give the ladies an opportunity.” 
 
 Lieutenant Muir now took his attitude with 
 a good deal of studied elegance, raised his rifle 
 slowly, lowered it, raised it again, repeated the 
 manoeuvres, and fired. 
 
 “ Missed the target altogether ! ” shouted the 
 man whose duty it was to mark the bullets, and 
 who had little relish for the quartermaster’s 
 tedious science. “ Missed the target.” 
 
 “ It cannot be ! ” cried Muir, his face flushing 
 equally with indignation and shame ; “ it cannot 
 be, adjutant ; for I never did so awkward a thing 
 in my life. I appeal to the ladies for a juster 
 judgment.” 
 
 “ The ladies shut their eyes when you fired,” 
 exclaimed the regimental wags. “Your prepara- 
 tions alarmed them.” 
 
 “ I will na believe such a calumny of the 
 leddies, nor sic’ a reproach on my own skill,” 
 returned the quartermaster, growing more and 
 more Scotch, as he warmed with his feelings ; 
 “ it’s a conspiracy to rob a meritorious man of 
 his dues.” 
 
 “It’s a dead miss, Muir,” said the laughing 
 Lundie, “ and ye’ll jist sit down quietly with the 
 disgrace.” 
 
 “No — no — major,” Pathfinder at length ob- 
 served, “ the quartermaster is a good shot, for a 
 slow one, and a measured distance ; though noth- 
 ing extr’ornary, for raal sarvice. He has covered 
 Jasper’s bullet, as will be seen, if any one will 
 take the trouble to examine the target.” 
 
 The respect for Pathfinder’s skill, and for his 
 quickness and accuracy of sight, was so profound 
 and general, that the instant he made this declara 
 
72 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 iion, the spectators began to distrust their own 
 opinions, and a dozen rushed to the target, in 
 order to ascertain the fact. There, sure enough, 
 it was found that the quartermaster’s bullet had 
 gone through the hole made by Jasper s, and that, 
 too, so accurately as to require a minute examina- 
 tion to be certain of the circumstance; which, 
 however, was soon clearly established, by dis- 
 covering one bullet over the other, in the stump 
 against which the target was placed. 
 
 “ I told ye, ladies, ye were about to witness 
 the influence of science on gunnery,” said the 
 quartermaster, advancing toward the staging oc- 
 cupied by the females. “Major Duncan derides 
 the idea of mathematics entering into target-shoot- 
 ing ; but I tell him philosophy colors and enlarges, 
 and improves, and dilates, and explains, every 
 thing that belongs to human life, whether it be a 
 shooting-match or a sermon. In a word, philos- 
 ophy is philosophy, and that is saying all that 
 the subject requires.” 
 
 “ I trust you exclude love from the catalogue,” 
 observed the wife of a captain, who knew the 
 history of the quartermaster’s marriages, and 
 who had a woman’s malice against the monopo- 
 lizer of her sex — “ it seems that philosophy has 
 little in common with love.” 
 
 “ You wouldn’t say that, madam, if your heart 
 had experienced many trials. It’s the man or the 
 woman that has had many occasions to improve 
 the affections that can best speak of such matters ; 
 and, believe me, of all love, philosophical is the 
 most lasting, as it is the most rational.” 
 
 “You would then recommend experience as 
 an improvement on the passion ? ” 
 
 “Your quick mind has conceived the idea at 
 a glance. The happiest marriages are those in 
 which youth, and beauty, and confidence, on one 
 side, rely on the sagacity, moderation, and pru- 
 dence of years — middle age, I mean, madam, for 
 I’ll no deny that there is such a thing as a hus- 
 band’s being too old for a wife. Here is Sergeant 
 Dunham’s charming daughter, now, to approve 
 of such sentiments, I’m certain — her character for 
 discretion being already well established in the 
 garrison, short as has been her residence among 
 y us.” 
 
 “Sergeant Dunham’s daughter is scarcely a 
 fitting interlocutor in a discourse between you 
 and me, Lieutenant Muir,” rejoined the captain’s 
 lady, with careful respect for her own dignity — 
 “ and yonder is the Pathfinder about to take his 
 ?hance, by way of changing the subject.” 
 
 “I protest, Major Duncan, I protest — ” cried 
 Muir, hurrying back toward the stand, with both 
 arms elevated by way of enforcing his words — “ I 
 
 protest, in the strongest terms, gentlemen, against 
 Pathfinder’s being admitted into these sports with 
 Killdeer, which is a piece, to say nothing of long 
 habit, that is altogether out of proportion, for a 
 trial of skill against government rifles.” 
 
 “Killdeer is taking its rest, quartermaster,” 
 returned Pathfinder, calmly, “and no one here 
 thinks of disturbing it. I did not think myself 
 of pulling a trigger to-day ; but Sergeant Dunham 
 has been persuading me that I shall not do proper 
 honor to his handsome daughter, who came in 
 under my care, if I am backward on such an oc- 
 casion. Pm using Jasper’s rifle, quartermaster, 
 as you may see, and that is no better than your 
 own.” 
 
 Lieutenant Muir was now obliged to acquiesce, 
 and every eye turned toward the Pathfinder, as he 
 took the required station. The air and attitude 
 of this celebrated guide and hunter were ex- 
 tremely fine, as he raised his tall form and levelled 
 the piece, showing perfect self-command, and a 
 thorough knowledge of the power of the human 
 frame, as well as of the weapon. Pathfinder was 
 not what is usually termed a handsome man, 
 though his appearance excited so much confidence, 
 and commanded respect. Tall, and even muscular 
 his frame might have been esteemed nearly per 
 feet, were it not for the total absence of every 
 thing like flesh. Whip-cord was scarcely more 
 rigid than his arms and legs, or, at need, more 
 pliable ; but the outlines of his person were rather 
 too angular for the proportion that the eye most 
 approves. Still, his motions, being natural, were 
 graceful ; and, being calm and regulated, they gave 
 him an air of dignity that associated well with 
 the idea that was so prevalent of his services and 
 peculiar merits. His honest, open features were 
 burnt to a bright red, that comported with the 
 notion of exposure and hardships, while his sinewy 
 hands denoted force, and a species of use that 
 was removed from the stiffening and deforming 
 effects of labor. Although no one perceived any 
 of those gentler or more insinuating qualities 
 which are apt to win upon a woman’s affections, 
 as he raised his rifle, not a female eye was fastened 
 on him without a silent approbation of the free- 
 dom of his movements, and the manliness of his 
 air. Thought was scarcely quicker than his aim, 
 and, as the smoke floated above his head, the 
 breech of the rifle was seen on the ground, the 
 hand of the Pathfinder was leaning on the barrel, 
 and his honest countenance was illuminated by 
 his usual silent, hearty laugh. 
 
 “If one dared to hint at such a thing,” cried 
 Major Duncan, “ I should say that the Pathfinder 
 had also missed the target ! ” 
 
MABEL AS UMPIRE. 
 
 73 
 
 “No— no — major,’ returned the guide, con- 
 fidently, “ that would be a risky declaration. I 
 didn’t load the piece, and can’t say what was in 
 it ; but if it was lead, you will find the bullet 
 driving down those of the quartermaster’s and 
 Jasper’s ; else is not my name Pathfinder.” 
 
 A shout from the target announced the truth 
 of this assertion. 
 
 “ That’s not all — that’s not all, boys,” called 
 out the guide, who was now slowly advancing 
 toward the stage occupied by the females — “ if 
 you find the target touched at all, I’ll own to a 
 miss. The quartermaster cut the wood, but you’ll 
 find no wood cut by that last messenger.” 
 
 “Very true, Pathfinder, very true,” answered 
 Muir, who was lingering near Mabel, though 
 ashamed to address her particularly, in the pres- 
 ence of the officers’ wives. “ The quartermaster 
 did cut the wood, and by that means he opened 
 a passage for your bullet, which went through the 
 hole he had made.” 
 
 “Well, quartermaster, there goes the nail, and 
 we’ll see who can drive it closest, you or I ; for, 
 though I did not think of showing what a rifle 
 can do to-day, now my hand is in, I’ll turn my 
 back to no man that carries King George’s com- 
 mission. Chingachgook is outlying, or he might 
 force me into some of the niceties of the art ; but 
 as for you, quartermaster, if the nail don’t stop 
 you, the potato will.” 
 
 “You’re over-boastful this morning, Path- 
 finder ; but you’ll find you’ve no green boy, fresh 
 from the settlements and the towns, to deal with, 
 I will assure ye ! ” 
 
 “I know that well, quartermaster; I know 
 that well, and shall not deny your experience. 
 You’ve lived many years on the frontiers, and 
 I’ve heard of you in the colonies, and among the 
 Injins, too, quite a human life ago.” 
 
 “Na — na — ” interrupted Muir, in his broadest 
 Scotch, “ this is injustice, man. I’ve no lived so 
 very long, neither.” 
 
 “I’ll do you justice, lieutenant, even if you 
 get the best in the potato-trial. I say you’ve 
 passed a good human life, for a soldier, in places 
 where the rifle is daily used, and I know you are 
 a creditable and ingenious marksman ; but then 
 you are not a true rifle-shooter. As for boasting, 
 
 I hope I’m not a vain talker about my own ex- 
 ploits ; bat a man’s gifts are his gifts, and it’s 
 flying in the face of Providence to deny them. 
 The sergeant’s daughter, here, shall judge atween 
 us, if you have the stomach to submit to so pi’etty 
 a judge.” 
 
 The Pathfinder had named Mabel as the 
 arbiter, because he admired her, and because, in I 
 
 his eyes, rank had little or no value ; but Lieu- 
 tenant Muir shrank at such a reference in the 
 presence of the wives of the officers. He would 
 gladly keep himself constantly before the eyes 
 and the imagination of the object of his wishes ; 
 but he was still too much under the influence of 
 old prejudices, and perhaps too wary, to appear 
 openly as her suitor, unless he saw something 
 very like a certainty of success. On the discre- 
 tion of Major Duncan he had a full reliance, and 
 he apprehended no betrayal from that quarter ; 
 but he was quite aware, should it ever get abroad 
 that he had been refused by the child of a non- 
 commissioned officer, he would find great difficulty 
 in making his approaches to any other woman of 
 a condition to which he might reasonably aspire. 
 Notwithstanding these doubts and misgivings, 
 Mabel looked so prettily, blushed so charmingly, 
 smiled so sweetly, and altogether presented so 
 winning a picture of youth, spirit, modesty, and 
 beauty, that he found it exceedingly tempting to 
 be kept so prominently before her imagination, 
 and to be able to address her freely. 
 
 “ You shall have it your own way, Pathfinder,” 
 he answered, as soon as his doubts had settled 
 down into determination — “ let the sergeant’s 
 daughter — his charming daughter, I should have 
 termed her — be the umpire, then ; and to her we 
 will both dedicate the prize that one or the other 
 must certainly win. Pathfinder must be humored, 
 ladies, as you perceive, else, no doubt, we should 
 have had the honor to submit ourselves to one of 
 your charming society.” 
 
 A call for the competitors now drew the quar- 
 termaster and his adversary away ; and in a few 
 moments the second trial of skill commenced. A 
 common wrought nail was driven lightly into the 
 target, its head having been first touched with 
 paint, and the marksman was required to hit it 
 or he lost his chances in the succeeding trials. 
 No one was permitted to enter on this occasion 
 who had already failed in the essay against the 
 bull’s-eye. 
 
 There might have been half a dozen aspirants 
 for the honors of this trial ; one or two, who had 
 barely succeeded in touching the spot of paint in 
 the previous strife, preferring to rest their reputa- 
 tions there ; feeling certain that they could not 
 succeed in the greater effort that was now ex- 
 acted of them. The first three adventurers 
 failed, all coming quite near the mark, but nei- 
 ther touching it. The fourth person who presented 
 himself was the quartermaster, who, after going 
 through his usual attitudes, so far succeeded as 
 to carry away a small portion of the head of the 
 nail, planting his bullet by the side of its point 
 
74 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 This was not considered an extraordinary shot, 
 though it brought the adventurer within the 
 category. 
 
 “ You’ve saved your bacon, quartermaster, 
 as they say in the settlements of their creatur’s,” 
 cried Pathfinder, laughing, “ but it would take a 
 long time to build a house with a hammer no bet- 
 ter than yourn. Jasper, here, will show you how 
 a nail is to be started, or the lad has lost some of 
 his steadiness of hand and sartainty of eye. You 
 would have done better yourself, lieutenant, had 
 you not been so much bent on so’gerizing your 
 figure. Shooting is a nat’ral gift, and is to be ex- 
 ercised in a nat’ral way.” 
 
 “We shall see, Pathfinder ; I call that a pretty 
 attempt at a nail ; and I doubt if the 55th has 
 another hammer, as you call it, that can do just 
 that same thing over again.” 
 
 “ Jasper is not in the 55th, but there goes his 
 rap ! ” 
 
 As the Pathfinder spoke, the bullet of Eau- 
 douce hit the nail square, and drove it into the 
 target within an inch of the head. 
 
 “ Be all ready to clinch it, boys,” cried out 
 Pathfinder, stepping into his friend’s tracks the 
 instant they were vacant. “Never mind a new 
 nail ; I can see that, though the paint is gone, 
 and what I can see I can hit at a hundred yards, 
 though it were only a mosquito’s eye. Be ready 
 to clinch ! ” 
 
 The rifle cracked, the bullet sped its way, 
 and the head of the nail was buried in the wood, 
 covered by the piece of flattened lead. 
 
 “Well, Jasper, lad,” continued Pathfinder, 
 dropping the breech of his rifle to the ground, 
 and resuming the discourse as if he thought noth- 
 ing of his own exploit, “ you improve daily. A few 
 more tramps on land, in my company, and the 
 best marksman on the frontiers will have occasion 
 to look keenly when he takes his stand ag’in you. 
 The quartermaster is respectable, but he will 
 never get any farther ; whereas you, Jasper, have 
 the gift, and may one day defy any who pull trig- 
 ger.” 
 
 “ Hoot — hoot ! ” exclaimed Muir, “ do you call 
 hitting the bead of the nail respectable only, when 
 it’s the perfection of the art ? Any one, in the 
 least refined and elevated in sentiment, knows that 
 the delicate touches denote the master ; whereas 
 your sledge-hammer blows come from the rude 
 and uninstructed. If ‘ a miss is as good as a 
 mile,’ a hit ought to be better, Pathfinder, wheth- 
 er it wound or kill.” 
 
 “ The surest way of settling this rivalry, will 
 be to make another trial,” observed Lundie, 
 “ and that will be of the potato. You’re Scotch, 
 
 Mr. Muir, and might fare better were it a cake or 
 a thistle ; but frontier law has declared for the 
 American fruit, and the potato it shall be.” 
 
 As Major Duncan manifested some impatience 
 of manner, Muir had too much tact to delay the 
 sports any longer with his discursive remarks, 
 but judiciously prepared himself for the next ap. 
 peal. To say the truth, the quartermaster had 
 little or no faith in his own success in the trial 
 of skill that was to follow, nor would he have 
 been so free in presenting himself as a competitor 
 at all, had he anticipated it would have been 
 made. But Major Duncan, who was somewhat 
 of a humorist in his own quiet Scotch way, had 
 secretly ordered it to be introduced expressly to 
 mortify him ; for, a laird himself, Lundie did not 
 relish the notion that one who might claim to be 
 a gentleman should bring discredit on his caste 
 by forming an unequal alliance. As soon as 
 every thing was prepared, Muir was summoned 
 to the stand, and the potato was held in readi- 
 ness to be thrown. As the sort of feat we are 
 about to offer to the reader, however, may be new 
 to him, a word in explanation will render the mat- 
 ter more clear. A potato of large size was se- 
 lected, and given to one who stood at the distance 
 of twenty yards from the stand. At the word 
 ‘‘ heave,” which was given by the marksman, the 
 vegetable was thrown with a gentle toss into the 
 air, and it was the business of the adventurer to 
 cause a ball to pass through it before it reached 
 the ground. 
 
 The quartermaster, in a hundred experiments, 
 had once succeeded in accomplishing this difficult 
 feat, but he now essayed to perform it again with 
 a sort of blind hope that was fated to be disap- 
 pointed. The potato was thrown in the usual 
 manner, the rifle was discharged, but the flying 
 target was untouched. 
 
 “ To the right about, and fall out, quarter- 
 master ! ” said Lundie, smiling at the success of 
 his own artifice — “ the honor of the silken calash 
 will lie between Jasper Eau-douce and Path- 
 finder.” 
 
 “And how is the trial to end, major?” in- 
 quired the latter. “ Are we to have the two po- 
 tato trial, or is it to be settled by centre and 
 skin?” 
 
 “ By centre and skin, if there is any percepti- 
 ble difference; otherwise the double shot must 
 follow.” 
 
 “This is an awful moment to me, Pathfinder,” 
 observed Jasper, as he moved toward the stand, 
 his face actually losing its color in intensity of 
 feeling. 
 
 Pathfinder gazed earnestly at the young man, 
 
THE HUNTER’S GENEROSITY. 
 
 75 
 
 ami than, begging Major Duncan to have patience 
 for a moment, he led his friend out of hearing 
 of all near him before he spoke. 
 
 “ You seem to take this matter to heart, Jas- 
 per,” the hunter remarked, keeping his eyes fast- 
 ened on those of the youth. 
 
 “I must own, Pathfinder, that my feelings 
 were never before so much bound up in success.” 
 
 “ And do you so much crave to outdo me, an 
 old and tried friend ? — and that, as it might be, 
 in my own way ? Shooting is my gift, boy, and 
 no common hand can equal mine ! ” 
 
 “I know it — I know it, Pathfinder — but — 
 yet—” 
 
 “But what, Jasper, boy? — speak freely; you 
 talk to a friend.” 
 
 The young man compressed his lips, dashed 
 a hand across his eye, and flushed and paled 
 alternately, like a girl confessing her love. Then 
 squeezing the other’s hand, he said calmly, like 
 one whose manhood has overcome all other sen- 
 sations : 
 
 “ I would lose an arm, Pathfinder, to be able 
 to make an offering of that calash to Mabel 
 Dunham ! ” 
 
 The hunter dropped his eyes to the ground, 
 and, as he walked slowly back toward the stand, 
 he seemed to ponder deeply on what he had just 
 
 heard. 
 
 “You never could succeed in the double trial, 
 Jasper ! ” he suddenly remarked. 
 
 “ Of that I am certain, and it troubles me.” 
 
 “What a creature is mortal man! He pines 
 for things which are not of his gift, and treats 
 the bounties of Providence lightly. No matter — 
 no matter. Take your station, Jasper, for the 
 major is waiting— and, harkee, lad— I must touch 
 the skin, for I could not show my face in the gar- 
 rison with less than that.” 
 
 “ I suppose I must submit to my fate,” re- 
 turned Jasper, flushing and losing his color, as 
 before ; “ but I will make the effort if I die.” 
 
 “What a thing is mortal man!” repeated 
 Pathfinder, falling back to allow his friend room 
 to take bis aim — “ he overlooks his own gifts, 
 and craves them of another ! ” 
 
 The potato was thrown, Jasper fired, and the 
 shout that followed preceded the announcement 
 of the fact that he had driven his bullet through 
 its centre, or so nearly so as to merit that award. 
 
 “ Here is a competitor worthy of you, Path- 
 finder,” cried Major Duncan, with delight, as the 
 former took his station, “ and we may look to 
 eome fine shooting in the double trial.” 
 
 “What a thing is mortal man!” repeated 
 the hunter, scarce seeming to notice what was 
 
 passing around him, so much were his thoughts 
 absorbed in his own reflections. “ Toss.” 
 
 The potato was tossed, the rifle cracked — it 
 was remarked just as the little black ball seemed 
 stationary in the air, for the marksman evidently 
 took unusual heed to his aim — and then a look 
 of disappointment and wonder succeeded among 
 those who caught the falling target. 
 
 “ Two holes in one ? ” called out the major, 
 
 “The skin — the skin — ” was the answer: 
 “ only the skin ! ” 
 
 “ How’s this, Pathfinder ! Is Jasper Eau- 
 douce to carry off the honors of the day ? ” 
 
 “ The calash is his,” returned the other, shak- 
 ing his head, and walking quietly away from the 
 stand. “What a creature is a mortal man! 
 Never satisfied with his own gifts, but forever 
 craving that which Providence denies ! ” 
 
 As Pathfinder had not buried his bullet in 
 the potato, but had cut through the skin, the 
 prize was immediately adjudged to Jasper. The 
 calash was in the hands of the latter, when the 
 quartermaster approached, and, with a politic air 
 of cordiality, he wished his successful rival joy 
 of his victory. 
 
 “ But now you’ve got the calash, lad, it’s of 
 no use to you,” he added ; “ it will never make a 
 sail, nor even an ensign. I’m thinking, Eau-douce, 
 you’d no be sorry to see its value in good silver 
 of the king ? ” 
 
 “ Money cannot buy it, lieutenant,” returned 
 Jasper, whose eye lighted up with all the fire oi 
 success and joy. “ I would rather have won this 
 calash than have obtained fifty new suits of sail3 
 for the Scud ! ” 
 
 “ Hoot — hoot — lad ! you are going mad like 
 all the rest of them. I’d even venture to offer 
 half a guinea for the trifle, rather than it should 
 lie kicking about in the cabin of your cutter, and, 
 in the end, become an ornament for the head of 
 a squaw.” 
 
 Although Jasper did not know that the wary 
 quartermaster had not offered half the actual 
 cost of the prize, he heard the proposition with 
 indifference. Shaking his head in the negative, 
 he advanced toward the stage, where his approach 
 excited a little commotion, the officers’ ladies, 
 one and all, having determined to accept the 
 present, should the gallantry of the young sailor 
 induce him to offer it. But Jasper’s diffidence^ 
 no less than admiration for another, would hav<j 
 prevented him from aspiring to the honor of 
 complimenting any whom he thought so much 
 his superiors. 
 
 “ Mabel,” he said, “ this prize is for you, un 
 less—” 
 
76 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 « Unless what, Jasper ? ” answered the girl, 
 losing her own bashfulness in the natural and 
 Generous wish to relieve his embarrassment, 
 though both reddened in a way to betray strong 
 feeling. 
 
 “ Unless you may think too indifferently of it, 
 because it is offered by one who may have no 
 right to believe his gift will be accepted.” 
 
 “I do accept it, Jasper; and it shall be a 
 sign of the danger I have passed in your com- 
 pany, and of the gratitude I feel for your care of 
 me — your care, and that of the Pathfinder.” 
 
 “ Never mind me, never mind me,” exclaimed 
 the latter; “this is Jasper’s luck and Jasper’s 
 gift: give him full credit for both. My turn 
 may come another day ; mine and the quarter- 
 master’s, who seems to grudge the boy the ca- 
 lash, though what he can want of it, I cannot un- 
 derstand, for he has no wife.” 
 
 “ And has Jasper Eau-douce a wife ? Or have 
 you a wife voursel’, Pathfinder ? I may want it 
 to help to get a wife, or as a memorial that I have 
 had a wife, or as proof how much I admire the 
 sex, or because it is a female garment, or for some 
 other equally respectable motive. It’s not the 
 unreflecting that are the most prized by the 
 thoughtful, and there is no surer sign that a man 
 made a good husband to his first consort, let me 
 tell you all, than to see him speedily looking 
 around for a competent successor. The affec- 
 tions are good gifts from Providence, and they 
 that have loved one faithfully, prove how much of 
 this bounty has been lavished upon them by lov- 
 ing another as soon as possible.” 
 
 “ It may be so— it may be so. I am no prac- 
 titioner in such things, and cannot gainsay it. 
 But, Mabel, here, the sergeant’s daughter, will give 
 you full credit for the words.— Come, Jasper, al- 
 though our hands are out, let us see what the 
 other lads can do with the rifle.” 
 
 Pathfinder and his companions retired, for the 
 sports were about to proceed. The ladies, how- 
 ever, were not so much engrossed with rifle-shoot- 
 ing as to neglect the calash. It passed from 
 hand to hand ; the silk was felt, the fashion criti- 
 cised, and the work examined, and divers opin- 
 ions were privately ventured concerning the fit- 
 ness of so handsome a thing’s passing into the 
 possession of a non-commissioned officer’s child. 
 
 “ Perhaps you will be disposed to sell that 
 calash, Mabel, when it has been a short time in 
 your possession?” inquired the captain’s lady. 
 “ Wear it, I should think, you never can.” 
 
 « I ma y not wear it, madam,” returned our 
 heroine, modestly, “ but I should not like to part 
 with it, either.” 
 
 “I dare say Sergeant Dunham keeps you 
 above the necessity of selling your clothes, child ; 
 but, at the same time, it is money thrown away 
 to keep an article of dress you can never wear.” 
 
 “ I should be unwilling to part with the gift 
 of a friend.” 
 
 “ But the young man himself will think all the 
 better of you for your prudence after the triumph 
 of the day is forgotten. It is a pretty and a 
 becoming calash, and ought not to be thrown 
 away.” 
 
 “ I’ve no intention to throw it away, ma’am, 
 and, if you please, would rather keep it.” 
 
 “ As you will, child ; girls of your age often 
 overlook their real advantages. Remember, how- 
 ever, if you do determine to dispose of the thing, 
 that it is bespoke, and that I will not take it if 
 you ever even put it on your own head.” 
 
 “ Yes, ma’am,” said Mabel, in the meekest 
 voice imaginable, though her eyes looked like dia- 
 monds, and her cheeks reddened to the tints of 
 two roses as she placed the forbidden garment 
 over her well-turned shoulders, where she kept it 
 a minute, as if to try its fitness, and then quietlj 
 removed it again. 
 
 The remainder of the sports offered nothing 
 of interest. The shooting was reasonably good, 
 but the trials were all of a scale lower than those 
 related, and the competitors were soon left tc 
 themselves. The ladies and most of the officers 
 withdrew, and the remainder of the females soon 
 followed their example. Mabel was returning 
 along the low, flat rocks that line the snore of 
 the lake, dangling her pretty calash from a pret- 
 tier finger, when Pathfinder met her. He carried 
 the rifle which he had used that day, but his 
 manner had less of the frank ease of the hunter 
 about it than usual, while his eyes seemed roving 
 and uneasy. After a few unmeaning words con 
 cerning the noble sheet of water before them, he 
 turned toward his companion, with strong interest 
 in his countenance, and said : 
 
 “ Jasper earned that calash for you, Mabel, 
 without much trial of his gifts.” 
 
 “ It was fairly done, Pathfinder.” 
 
 “No doubt— no doubt. The bullet passed 
 neatly through the potato, and no man could 
 have done more ; though others might have done 
 as much.” 
 
 “ But no one did as much ! ” exclaimed Ma- 
 bel, with an animation that she instantly regretted, 
 for she saw by the pained look of the guide that 
 he was mortified equally by the remark, and by 
 the feeling with which it was uttered. 
 
 “ It is true— it is true, Mabel, no one did as 
 | much theu, but — yet, there is no reason I should 
 
A TOKEN OF GRATITUDE. 
 
 ieny my gifts which come from Providence — yes, 
 yes ; no one did as much there, but you shall 
 know what can be done here. Do you observe 
 the gulls that are flying over our heads ? ” 
 
 “Certainly, Pathfinder — there are too many 
 to escape notice.” 
 
 “ Here, where they cross each other in sailing 
 about,” he added, cocking and raising his rifle — 
 “ the two — the two — now look ! ” 
 
 The piece was presented quick as thought as 
 two of the birds came in a line, though distant 
 from each other many yards — the report followed, 
 and the bullet passed through the bodies of both 
 the victims. No sooner had the gulls fallen into 
 the lake, than Pathfinder dropped the breech of 
 the rifle, and laughed in his own peculiar man- 
 ner, every shade of dissatisfaction and mortified 
 pride having left his honest face. 
 
 “ That is something, Mabel, that is something ; 
 although I’ve no calash to give you ! But ask 
 Jasper himself; I’ll leave it all to Jasper, for a 
 truer tongue and heart are not in America.” 
 
 “Then it was not Jasper’s fault that he 
 gained the prize ? ” 
 
 “ Not it. He did his best, and he did well. 
 For one that has water gifts rather than land 
 gifts, Jasper is oncommonly expart, and a better 
 backer no one need wish, ashore or afloat. But 
 it was my fault, Mabel, that he got the calash ; 
 though it makes no difference — it makes no dif- 
 ference, for the thing has gone to the right per- 
 son.” 
 
 “ I believe I understand you, Pathfinder,” 
 said Mabel, blushing in spite of herself, “ and I 
 look upon the calash as the joint gift of yourself 
 and Jasper.” 
 
 “That would not be doing justice to the lad, 
 neither. He won the garment, and had a right 
 to give it away. The most you may think, Ma- 
 bel, is to believe that, had I won it, it would have 
 gone to the same person.” 
 
 “ I will remember that, Pathfinder, and take 
 care that others know your skill, as it has been 
 proved upon the poor gulls in my presence.” 
 
 “ Lord bless you, Mabel, there is no more 
 need of your talking in favor of my shooting, on 
 this frontier, than of your talking about the wa- 
 ter in the lake, or the sun in the heavens. Every- 
 body knows what I can do in that way, and 
 your words would be thrown away, as much as 
 French would be thrown away on an American 
 bear.” 
 
 “ Then you think that Jasper knew you were 
 giving him this advantage of which he has so 
 unhandsomely availed himself? ” said Mabel, the 
 color which had imparted so much lustre to her 
 
 77 
 
 eyes gradually leaving her face, which became 
 grave and thoughtful. 
 
 “ I do not say that, but very far from it. We 
 all forget things that we have known, when eager 
 after our wishes. Jasper is satisfied that I can 
 pass one bullet through two potatoes, as I sent 
 my bullet through the gulls ; and he knows no 
 other man on the frontier can do the same thing. 
 But, with the calash before his eyes, and the 
 hope of giving it to you, the lad was inclined to 
 think better of himself, just at that moment, per- 
 haps, than he ought. No — no — there’s nothing 
 mean or distrustful about Jasper Eau-douce, 
 though it is a gift, nat’ral to all young men, to 
 wish to appear well in the eyes of handsome 
 young women.” 
 
 “ I’ll try to forget all, but the kindness you’ve 
 both shown to a poor motherless girl,” said Ma- 
 bel, struggling to keep down emotions that she 
 scarcely knew how to account for herself. “ Be- 
 lieve me, Pathfinder, I can never forget all you 
 have already done for me — you and Jasper — and 
 this new proof of your regard is not thrown away 
 Here — here is a brooch that is of silver, I offer it 
 as a token that I owe you life or liberty.” 
 
 “ What shall I do with this, Mabel ? ” asked 
 the bewildered hunter, holding the simple trinket 
 in his hand. “ I have neither buckle nor button 
 about me, for I w r ear nothing but leathern strings, 
 and them of good deer-skins. It’s pretty to the 
 eye, but it’s prettier far on the spot it came from, 
 than it can be about me.” 
 
 “ Nay, put it in your hunting-shirt ; it will 
 become it well. Remember, Pathfinder, that it 
 is a token of friendship between us, and a sign 
 that I can never forget you or your services.” 
 
 Mabel then smiled an adieu, and, bounding up 
 the bank, she was soon lost to view behind tho 
 mound of the fort. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 “Lo ! dusky masses steal in dubious signt, 
 
 Along the leaguered wall, and bristling bank 
 Of the armed river ; while with straggling light, 
 
 The stars peep through the vapor, dim and dank.” 
 
 Bybom. 
 
 A few hours later, Mabel Dunham was on the 
 bastion that overlooked the river and the lake, 
 seemingly in deep thought. The evening was 
 calm and soft, and the question had arisen wheth- 
 er the party for the Thousand Islands would be 
 able to get out that night or not, on account of 
 the total absence of wind. The stores, arms, and 
 ammunition, were already shipped, and even Ms. 
 
78 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 bel’s effects were on board ; but the small draft 
 of men that was to go was still ashore, there be- 
 ing no apparent prospect of the cutter’s getting 
 under way. Jasper had warped tne Scud out of 
 the cove, and so far up the stream as to enable 
 him to pass through the outlet of the river when- 
 ever he chose 5 but there he still lay, riding at 
 single anchor. The drafted men were lounging 
 about the shore of the cove, undecided whether 
 or not to pull off. 
 
 The sports of the morning had left a quiet in 
 the garrison that was in harmony with the whole 
 of the beautiful scene, and Mabel felt its influence 
 on her feelings, though probably too little accus- 
 tomed to speculate on such sensations, to be 
 aware of the cause. Every thing near appeared 
 lovely and soothing, while the solemn grandeur 
 of the silent forest and placid expanse of the lake 
 lent a sublimity that other scenes might have 
 wanted. For the first time, Mabel felt the hold 
 that the towns and civilization had gained on her 
 habits sensibly weakened, and the warm-hearted 
 girl began to think that a life passed amid ob- 
 jects such as these around her might be happy. 
 How far the experience of the last ten days came 
 in aid of the calm and holy eventide, and con- 
 tributed toward producing that young conviction, 
 maybe suspected, rather than affirmed, in this 
 early portion of our legend. 
 
 “ A charming sunset, Mabel,” said the hearty 
 voice of her uncle, so close to the ear of our 
 heroine as to cause her to start — “ a charming 
 sunset, girl, for a fresh- water concern, though we 
 should think but little of it at sea.” 
 
 “And is not Nature the same, on shore or at 
 sea ; on a lake like this, or on the ocean ? Does 
 not the sun shine on all alike, dear uncle, and 
 can we not feel gratitude for the blessings of 
 Providence as strongly on this remote frontier as 
 in our own Manhattan ? ” 
 
 “The girl has fallen in with some of her 
 mother’s books ’.—though I should think the ser- 
 geant would scarcely make a second march with 
 such trumpery among his baggage. Is not Na- 
 ture the same, indeed ! — Now, Mabel, do you im- 
 agine that the nature of a soldier is the same as 
 that of a seafaring man? — You’ve relations in 
 both callings, and ought to be able to answer.”' 
 
 “ But, uncle, I mean human nature — ” 
 
 “ So do I, girl ; the human nature of a sea- 
 man, and the human nature of one of these fel- 
 ' lows of the 55th, not even excepting your own 
 ' father. Here have they had a shooting-match— 
 target-firing I should call it — this day, and what 
 a different thing has it been from a target-firing 
 afioat ’. There we should have sprung our broad- 
 
 side, sported with round shot, at an object half a 
 mile off at the very nearest ; and the potatoes, 
 if there happened to be any on board, as quite 
 likely would not have been the case, would have 
 been left in the cook’s coppers. It may be an 
 honorable calling, that of a soldier, Mabel, but an 
 experienced hand sees many follies and weak- 
 nesses in one of these forts. As for that bit of 
 a lake, you know my opinion of it already, and I 
 wish to disparage nothing. N o real seafarer dis- 
 
 I parages any thing ; but d e if I regard this 
 
 here Ontario, as they call it, as more than so 
 much water in a ship’s scuttle-butt. Now, look 
 you here, Mabel, if you wish to understand the 
 difference between the ocean and a lake, I can 
 make you comprehend it with a single look : this 
 is what one may call a calm, seeing that there is 
 no wind ; though, to own the truth, I do not 
 think the calms are as calm as them we get out- 
 side — ” 
 
 “Uncle, there is not a breath of air! I do 
 not think it possible for the leaves to be more 
 immovably still than those of the entire forest 
 are at this very moment.” 
 
 “ Leaves ! what are leaves, child ? there are 
 no leaves at sea. If you wish to know whether 
 it is a dead calm or not, try a mould candle — 
 your dips flaring too much — and then you may 
 be certain whether there is or not any wind. If 
 you were in a latitude where the air was so still 
 that you found a difficulty in stirring it to draw 
 it in, in breathing, you might fancy it a calm. 
 People are often on a short allowance of air in 
 the calm latitudes. Here, again, look at that 
 water ! — It is like milk in a pan, with no more 
 motion now than there is in a full hogshead be- 
 fore the bung is started. On the ocean the water 
 is never still, let the air be as quiet as it may.” 
 
 “ The water of the ocean never still, uncle 
 C a p j — not even in a calm ? ” 
 
 “ Bless your heart, no, child. The ocean 
 breathes like a living being, and its bosom is 
 always heaving, as the poetizers call it, though 
 there be no more air than is to be found in a 
 siphon. No man ever saw the ocean still like this 
 lake ; but it heaves and sets as if it had lungs.” 
 
 “ And this lake is not absolutely still, for yon 
 perceive there is a little ripple on the shore, and 
 you may even hear the surf plunging, at mements, 
 against the rocks.” 
 
 “ All d d poetry ! One may call a bubble 
 
 a ripple if he will, and washing decks a surf ; but 
 Lake Ontario is no more the Atlantic than a 
 Powles Hook periagua is a first-rate. That Jas- 
 per, notwithstanding, is a fine lad, and wants in 
 struction only to make a man of him ! ” 
 
CAP’S FRIENDLY INTENTIONS. 
 
 79 
 
 “ Do you think him ignorant, uncle ? ” an- 
 gered Mabel, prettily adjusting her hair, in or- 
 der to do which she was obliged, or fancied she 
 was obliged, to turn away her face. “ To me 
 Jasper Eau-douce appears to know more than 
 most of the young men of his class. He has read 
 but little, for books are not plenty in this part of 
 the world, but he has thought much ; at least so 
 it seems to me for one so young.” 
 
 “ He is ignorant, he is ignorant, as all must 
 be who navigate an inland water like this. He 
 can make a flat-knot and a timber-hitch, it is 
 true ; but he has no more notion of crowning a 
 cable, now, or of a carrick-bend, than you have 
 of catting an anchor. No — no — Mabel ; we both 
 owe something to Jasper and the Pathfinder, and 
 I have been thinking how I can best serve them, 
 for I hold ingratitude to be the vice of a hog. 
 Some people say it is the vice of a king ; but I 
 say it is the failing of a hog ; for, treat the animal 
 to your own dinner, and he would eat you for the 
 dessert.” 
 
 “Very true, dear uncle, and we ought indeed 
 to do all we can to express our proper sense of 
 the services of both these brave men.” 
 
 “Spoken like your mother’s daughter, girl, 
 and in a way to do credit to the Cap family. 
 Now, I’ve hit upon a traverse that will just suit 
 all parties, and as soon as we get back from this 
 little expedition down the lake, among them there 
 Thousand Islands, and I am ready to return, it is 
 my intention to propose it.” 
 
 “ Dearest uncle ! this is so considerate in you, 
 and will be so just ! May I ask what your inten- 
 tions are ? ” 
 
 “ I see no reason for keeping them a secret 
 from you, Mabel, though nothing need be said to I 
 your father about them, for the sergeant has his 
 prejudices, and might throw difficulties in the 
 way. Neither Jasper, nor his friend Pathfinder, 
 can ever make any thing hereabouts, and I pro- 
 pose to take both with me down to the coast, and 
 get them fairly afloat. Jasper would find his 
 sea-legs in a fortnight, and a twelvemonth’s 
 v’y’ge would make him a man. Although Path- 
 finder might take more time, or never get to be 
 rated able, yet one could make something of him, 
 too, particularly as a lookout, for he has unusual- 
 ly good eyes.” 
 
 “Uncle, do you think either would consent to 
 this ? ” said Mabel, smiling. 
 
 “Do I suppose them simpletons? What 
 rational being would neglect his own advance- 
 ment? Let Jasper alone to push his way, and 
 the lad may yet die the master of some square- 
 rigged craft.” 
 
 “And would he be any the happier for it, 
 dear uncle ? How much better is it to be the 
 master of a square-rigged craft than to be the 
 master of a round-rigged craft ? ” 
 
 “Pooh — pooh, Magnet! you are just fit to 
 read lectures about ships before some hysterical 
 society ; you don’t know what you are talking 
 about ; leave these things to me, and they’ll be 
 properly managed.— Ah ! here is the Pathfinder 
 himself, and I may just as well drop him a hint 
 of my benevolent intentions as regards himself. 
 Hope is a great encourager of our exertions.” 
 
 Cap nodded his head, and then ceased to 
 speak, while the hunter approached, not with his 
 usual frank and easy manner, but in a way to 
 show that he was slightly embarrassed, if not dis- 
 trustful of his reception. 
 
 “ Uncle and niece make a family party,” said 
 Pathfinder, when near the two, “ and a stranger 
 may not prove a welcome companion ? ” 
 
 “You are no stranger, Master Pathfinder,” 
 returned Cap, “ and no one can be more welcome 
 than yourself. We were talking of you but a 
 moment ago ; and when friends speak of an ab- 
 sent man, he can guess what they have said.” 
 
 “ I ask no secrets — I ask no secrets. Every 
 man has his inemies, and I have mine, though I 
 count neither you, Master Cap, nor pretty Mabel, 
 here, among the number. As for the Mingoes, I 
 will say nothing ; though they have no just cause 
 to hate me.” 
 
 “That I’ll answer for, Pathfinder, for you 
 strike my fancy as being well disposed and up- 
 right. There is a method, however, of getting 
 away from the enmity of even these Mingoes, and, 
 if you choose to take it, no one will more will- 
 ingly point it out than myself, without a charge 
 for my advice either.” 
 
 “ I wish no inemies, Salt-water ’’—for so the 
 Pathfinder had begun to call Cap, having, insen- 
 sibly to himself, adopted the term by translating 
 the name given him by the Indians in and about 
 the fort — “ I wish no inemies. I’m as ready to 
 bury the hatchet with the Mingoes as with the 
 French, though you know that it depends on one 
 greater than either of us so to turn the heart as 
 to leave a man without inemies.” 
 
 •“By lifting your anchor, and accompanying 
 me down to the coast, friend Pathfinder, when we 
 get back from this short cruise on which we are 
 bound, you will find yourself beyond the sound 
 of the warwhoop, and safe enough from the In- 
 dian bullet.” 
 
 “ And what should I do on the salt-water ? 
 Hunt in your towns ! Follow the trails of people 
 going and coming from market, and ambush dogs 
 
80 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 and poultry ! You are no friend to my happi- 
 ness, Master Cay , if you would lead me out of the 
 shade of the woods to put me in the sun of the 
 clearin’ s ! ” 
 
 “ I did not propose to leave you in the settle- 
 ments, Pathfinder, but to carry you out to sea, 
 where 'only a man can be said to breathe freely. 
 Mabel will tell you that such was my intention 
 before a word was said on the subject.” 
 
 “ And what does Mabel think would come of 
 such a change ? She knows that a man has his 
 gifts, and that it is as useless to pretend to others, 
 as to withstand them that come from Providence. 
 
 I am a hunter, and a scout, or a guide, Salt-water, 
 and it is not in me to fly so much in the face of 
 Heaven as to try to become any thing else. — Am 
 I right, Mabel, or are you so much of a woman 
 as to wish to see a natur’ altered ? ” 
 
 “ I would wish to see no change in you, Path- 
 finder,” Mabel answered, with a cordial sincerity 
 and frankness that went directly to the hunter’s 
 heart ; “ and, much as my uncle admires the sea, 
 and great as is all the good that he thinks may 
 come of it, I could not wish to see the best and 
 noblest hunter of the woods transformed into an 
 admiral. Remain what you are, my brave friend, 
 and you need fear nothing short of the anger of 
 God.” 
 
 “ Do you hear this, Salt-water ? Do you hear 
 what the sergeant’s daughter is saying? And 
 she is much too upright, and fair-minded, and 
 pretty, not to think what she says. So long as 
 she is satisfied with me as I am, I shall not fly in 
 the face of the gifts of Providence by striving to 
 become any thing else. I may seem useless here, 
 in a garrison, but when we get down among the 
 Thousand Islands, there may be an opportunity to 
 prove that a sure rifle is sometimes a godsend.” 
 
 “ You are then to be of our party ? ” said Ma- 
 bel, smiling so frankly and so sweetly on the guide 
 that he would have followed her to the end of the 
 earth. “ I shall be the only female, with the ex- 
 ception of one soldier’s wife, and shall feel none 
 the less secure, Pathfinder, because you will be 
 among our protectors.” 
 
 “ The sergeant would do that, Mabel, the ser- 
 geant would do that, though you were not of his 
 kin. No one will overlook you. I should think 
 your uncle, here, would like an expedition of this 
 sort, where we shall go with sails, and have a 
 look at an inland sea ? ” 
 
 “Your inland sea is no great matter, Master 
 Pathfinder, and I expect nothing from it. I con- 
 fess, however, I should like to know the object 
 of the cruise, for one does not wish to be idle, 
 and my brother-in-law the sergeant, is as close- 
 
 mouthed as a freemason. — Do you know, Mabel, 
 what all this means ? ” 
 
 “ Not in the least, uncle. I dare not ask my 
 father any questions about his duty, for he thinks 
 it is not a woman’s business ; and all I can say is, 
 that we are to sail as soon as the wind will per- 
 mit, and that we are to be absent a month.” 
 
 “ Perhaps Master Pathfinder can give me a 
 useful hint, for a v’y’ge without an object is never 
 pleasant to an old sailor.” 
 
 “ There is no great secret, Salt-water, concern- 
 ing our port and object, though it is forbidden to 
 talk much about either in the garrison. I am 
 no soldier, however, and can use my tongue as I 
 please, though as little given as another to idle 
 conversation, I hope ; still, as we sail so soon, 
 and you are both to be of the party, you may as 
 well be told where you are to be carried. You 
 know that there are such things as the Thousand 
 Islands, I suppose, Master Cap ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, what are so called hereaway, though I 
 take it for granted that they are not real islands, 
 such as we fall in with on the ocean ; and that 
 the thousand means some such matter as two or 
 three, like the killed and wounded of a great 
 battle.” 
 
 “ My eyes are good, yet have I often been 
 foiled in trying to count them very islands.” 
 
 “Ay — ay — I’ve known people who couldn’t 
 count beyond a certain number. Your real land- 
 birds never know their own roosts, even in a 
 land-fall at sea ; they are what I call all things to 
 all men. How many times have I seen the beach, 
 and houses, and churches, when the passengers 
 have not been able to see any thing but water ! 
 I have no idea that a man can get fairly out of 
 sight of land on fresh water. The thing appears 
 to me to be irrational and impossible.” 
 
 “You don’t know the lakes, Master Cap, or 
 you would not say that. Before we get to the 
 Thousand Islands, you will have other notions of 
 what Natur’ has done in this wilderness.” 
 
 “ I have my doubts whether you have such a 
 thing as a real island in all this region. To my 
 notion, fresh water can’t make a bony-fidy island; 
 not what / call an island.” 
 
 “We’ll show you hundreds of them — not ex- 
 actly a thousand, perhaps, but so many that eye 
 cannot see them all, or tongue count them.” 
 
 “ And what sort of things may they be ? ” 
 
 “ Land with water entirely around them.” 
 
 “ Ay, but what sort of land, and what sort of 
 water ? I’ll engage, when the truth comes to be 
 known, they’ll turn out to be nothing but penin- 
 sulas, or promontories, or continents; though 
 these are matters I dare say, of which you know 
 
A FRESH-WATER CRUISE. 
 
 81 
 
 little or nothing. But islands or no islands, what 
 is the object of the cruise, Master Pathfinder ? ” 
 
 “ Why, as you are the sergeant’s brother, and 
 pretty Mabel here is his da’hter, and we are all 
 to be of the party, there can be no harm in giv- 
 ing you some idea of what we are going to do. 
 Being so old a sailor, Master Cap, you’ve heard, 
 no doubt, of such a port as Frontenac ? ” 
 
 “ Who hasn’t ? I will not say I’ve ever been 
 inside the harbor, but I’ve frequently been off the 
 place.” 
 
 “ Then you are about to go upon ground with 
 which you are acquainted, though how you could 
 ever have got there from the ocean I do not un- 
 derstand. These great lakes, you must know, 
 make a chain, the water passing out of one into 
 the other, until it reaches Erie, which is a sheet 
 off here to the westward, as large as Ontario it- 
 self. Well, out of Erie the water comes, until it 
 reaches a low mountain-like, over the edge of 
 which it passes — ” 
 
 “ I should like to know how the devil it can 
 do that ? ” 
 
 “Why, easy enough, Master Cap,” returned 
 Pathfinder, laughing, “ seeing that it has only to 
 fall down-hill. Had I said the water went up the 
 mountain, there would have been Natur’ ag’in it ; 
 but we holi it no great matter for water to run 
 down-hill — that is, fresh water.” 
 
 “ Ay— ay— but you speak of the water of a 
 lake’s coming down the side of a mountain ; it’s 
 in the teeth of reason, if reason has any teeth.” 
 
 “ Well— well— we will not dispute the point ; 
 hut what I’ve seen I’ve seen ; as for reason’s hav- 
 ing any teeth, I’ll say nothing ; but conscience 
 has, and sharp ones, too. After getting into On- 
 tario, all the water of all the lakes passes down 
 into the sea by a river ; and, in the narrow part 
 of the sheet, where it is neither river nor lake, lie 
 the islands spoken of. Now, Frontenac is a post 
 of the Frenchers above these same islands ; and, 
 as they hold the garrison below, their stores and 
 ammunition are sent up the river to Frontenac, 
 to be forwarded along the shores of this and the 
 other lakes, in order to enable the enemy to play 
 his deviltries among the savages, and to take 
 Christian scalps.” 
 
 “ And our presence prevent these horri- 
 ble acts ? ” demanded Mabel, with interest. 
 
 “ ^ ma 7> or it may not, as Providence wills. 
 Lundie, as they call him, he who commands this 
 garrison, sent a party down to take a station 
 among the islands, to cut off some of the French 
 boats ; and this expedition of ours wiU be the 
 second relief. As yet they’ve not done much, 
 though two batteaux loaded with Indian goods 
 32 
 
 have been taken ; but a runner came in, last week, 
 and brought such tidings that the major is about 
 to make a last effort to sarcumvent the knaves. 
 Jasper knows the way, and we shall be in good 
 hands, for the sergeant is prudent, and of the first 
 quality at an ambushment — yes, he is both pru- 
 dent and alert.” 
 
 “ Is this all ? ” said Cap, contemptuously— 
 “by the preparations and equipments, I had 
 thought there was a forced trade in the wind, 
 and that an honest penny might be turned, by 
 taking an adventure. I suppose there are no 
 shares in your fresh-water prize-money ? ” 
 
 “ Anan ? ” 
 
 “I take it for granted the king gets all in 
 these so’gering parties and ambushments, as you 
 call them ? ” 
 
 “ I know nothing about that, Master Cap. I 
 take my share of the lead and powder, if any falls 
 into our hands, and say nothing to the king about 
 it. If any one fares better it is not I— though it 
 is time I did begin to think of a house and furni- 
 ture, and a home.” 
 
 Although the Pathfinder did not dare to look 
 at Mabel while he made this direct allusion to his 
 change of life, he would have given the world to 
 know whether she were listening, and what was 
 the expression of her countenance. Mabel Ittlc 
 suspected the nature of the allusion, however; 
 and her countenance was perfectly unembarrassed, 
 as she turned her eyes toward the river, where 
 the appearance of some movement on board the 
 Scud began to be visible. 
 
 “Jasper is bringing the cutter out,” observed 
 the guide, whose look was drawn in the same di- 
 rection, by the fall of some heavy article on the 
 deck. “ The lad sees the signs of wind, no doubt, 
 and wishes to be ready for it.” 
 
 1 Ay, and now we shall have an opportunity 
 of learning seamanship,” returned Cap, with a 
 sneer. “ There is a nicety in getting a craft un- 
 der her canvas, that shows the thorough-bred 
 mariner as much as any thing else. It’s like a 
 so’ger buttoning his coat, and one can see wheth- 
 er he begins at the top or the bottom.” 
 
 “I will not say that Jasper is equal to your 
 seafarers below,” observed Pathfinder, across 
 whose upright mind an unworthy feeling of envy 
 or jealousy never passed ; « but he is a bold boy, 
 and manages his cutter as skilfully as any man 
 can desire, on this lake at least. You didn’t find 
 him backward at the Oswego Falls, Master Cap, 
 where fresh-water contrives to tumble down-hill 
 with little difficulty.” 
 
 Cap made no other answer than a dissatisfied 
 ejaculation, and then a general silence followed, 
 
THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 HI on the bastion studying the movements of the 
 cutter with the interest that was natural to their 
 own future connection with the vessel. It was 
 still a dead calm, the surface of the lake literally 
 glittering with the last rays of the sun. The Scud 
 had been warped up to a kedge that lay a hun- 
 dred yards above the points of the outlet, where 
 she had room to manoeuvre in the river which 
 then formed the harbor of Oswego. But the 
 total want of air prevented any such attempt, and 
 it was soon evident that the light vessel was to 
 be taken through the passage under her sweeps. 
 Not a sail was loosened, but as soon as the kedge 
 was tripped, the heavy fall of the sweeps was 
 heard, when the cutter, with her head up-stream, 
 began to sheer toward the centre of the current ; 
 on reaching which, the efforts of the men ceased, 
 and she drifted toward the outlet. In the narrow 
 pass itself, her movement was rapid, and in less 
 than five minutes the Scud was floating outside 
 of the two low gravelly points that intercepted the 
 waves of the lake. No anchor was let go, but 
 the vessel continued to set off from the land, until 
 her dark hull was seen resting on the glassy sur- 
 face of the lake, fully a quarter of a mile beyond 
 the low bluff which formed the eastern extremity 
 of what might be called the outer harbor, or 
 roadstead. Here the influence of the river-cur- 
 rent ceased, and she became virtually stationary. 
 
 “ She seems very beautiful to me, uncle,” said 
 Mabel, whose gaze had not been averted from the 
 cutter for a single moment, while it had been 
 thus changing its position ; “ I dare say you can 
 find faults in her appearance, and in the way she 
 is managed ; but to my ignorance both are per- 
 fect ! ” 
 
 “ Ay — ay — she drops down with the current 
 well enough, girl, and so would a chip. But when 
 you come to niceties, an old tar like myself has 
 no need of spectacles to find fault.” 
 
 “ Well, Master Cap,” put in the guide, who 
 seldom heard any thing to Jasper’s prejudice 
 without manifesting a disposition to interfere, 
 “ I’ve heard old and experienced salt-water mari- 
 ners confess that the Scud is as pretty a craft as 
 floats. I know nothing of such matters myself, 
 but one may have his own notions about a ship, 
 even though they be wrong notions ; and it would 
 take more than one witness to persuade me Jasper 
 does not keep his boat in good order.” 
 
 “ I do not say the cutter is downright lubber- 
 ly, Master Pathfinder; but she has faults, and 
 great faults.” 
 
 “ And what arc they, uncle ? If he knew them, 
 Jasper would be glad to mend them.” 
 
 “ What are they ? Why, fifty ; ay, for that 
 
 matter, a hundred. Very material and manifest 
 faults.” 
 
 “ Do name them, sir, and Pathfinder will men- 
 tion them to his friend.” 
 
 “Name them ? It is no easy matter to call off 
 the stars, for the simple reason that they are so 
 numerous. Name them, indeed ! Why, my pretty 
 niece, Miss Magnet, what do you think of that 
 main-boom now? To my ignorant eyes, it is 
 topped at least a foot too high ; and then the 
 
 pennant is foul ; and — and — ay, d e, if there 
 
 isn’t a topsail gasket adrift — and it wouldn’t sur- 
 prise me at all if there should prove to be a 
 round turn in that hawser, if the kedge were to 
 be let go this instant ! Faults indeed ! No sea- 
 man could look at her a moment, without seeing 
 that she is as full of faults as a servant that has 
 asked for his discharge.” 
 
 “ This may be very true, uncle, though I much 
 question if Jasper knows of them. — I do not think 
 he would suffer these things, Pathfinder, if they 
 were pointed out to him.” 
 
 “Let Jasper manage his own cutter, Mabel; 
 let him manage his own cutter. His gifts lie 
 that-away, and, I’ll answer for it, no one can teach 
 him how to keep the Scud out of the hands of the 
 Frontenackers or their devilish Mingo fri’nds.— 
 Who cares for round turns in kedges, and for 
 hawsers that are topped too high, Master Cap, so 
 long as the craft sails well, and keeps clear of the 
 Frenchers? I will trust Jasper against all the 
 seafarers of the coast up here on the lakes — but 
 I do not say he has any gift for the ocean, for 
 there he has never been tried.” 
 
 Cap smiled condescendingly, but he did not 
 think it necessary to push his criticisms any 
 further just at that moment. His air and manner 
 gradually became more supercilious and lofty, 
 though he now wished to seem indifferent to any 
 discussions on points of which one of the parties 
 was entirely ignorant. By this time the cutter 
 had begun to drift at the mercy of the currents 
 of the lake, her head turning in all directions, 
 though slowly, and not in a way to attract partic- 
 ular attention. Just at this moment the jib was 
 loosened and hoisted, and presently the canvas 
 swelled toward the land, though no evidences of 
 air were yet to be seen on the surface of the water. 
 Slight, however, as was the impulsion, the light 
 hull yielded, and in another minute the Scud was 
 seen standing across the current of the river, with 
 a movement so easy and moderate as to be scarcely 
 perceptible. When out of the stream, she struck 
 an eddy, and shot up toward the land, under the 
 eminence where the fort stood, when Jasper 
 dropped his kedge. 
 
THE EMBARKATION. 
 
 83 
 
 “Not lubberly done — ” muttered Cap, in a 
 sort of soliloquy, “ not over-lubberly, though he 
 should have put his helm a-starboard instead of 
 a-port, for the vessel ought always to come-to 
 with her head off-shore, whether she is a league 
 from the land or only a cable’s length, since it has 
 a careful look ; and looks are something in this 
 world.” 
 
 “Jasper is a handy lad,” suddenly observed 
 Sergeant Dunham, at his brother-in-law’s elbow ; 
 “ and we place great reliance on his skill in our 
 expeditions. But come, one and all ; we have 
 but half an hour more of daylight to embark in, 
 and the boats will be ready for us by the time 
 we are ready for them.” 
 
 On this intimation the whole party separated 
 each to find those trifles which had not been 
 shipped already. A few taps of the drum gave 
 the necessary signal to the soldiers, and in a 
 minute all were in motion. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 “ The goblin now the fool alarms, 
 
 Hags meet to mumble o’er their charms, 
 
 The nightmare rides the dreaming ass, 
 
 And fairies trip it on the grass.” 
 
 Cotton. 
 
 The embarkation of so small a party was a 
 matter of no great delay or embarrassment. The 
 whole force confided to the care of Sergeant Dun- 
 ham consisted of but ten privates and two non- 
 commissioned officers, though it was soon posi- 
 tively known that Mr. Muir was to accompany the 
 expedition. The quartermaster, however, went 
 as a volunteer, while some duty connected with 
 his own department, as had been arranged be- 
 tween him and his commander, was the avowed 
 object. To these must be added the Pathfinder 
 and Cap, with Jasper and his subordinates, one 
 of whom was a boy. The males of the entire 
 party, consequently, consisted of less than twenty 
 men, and a lad of fourteen. Mabel and the wife 
 of a common soldier were the only females. 
 
 Sergeant Dunham carried off his command in 
 a targe batteau, and then returned for his final 
 orders, and to see that his brother-in-law and 
 daughter were properly attended to. Having 
 pointed out to Cap the boat that he and Mabel 
 were to use, he ascended the hill, to seek his last 
 interview with Lundie. The major was on the 
 bastion so often mentioned : leaving him and the 
 sergeant together for a short time, we will return 
 to the beach. 
 
 It was nearly dark when Mabel found herself 
 
 in the boat that was to carry her off to the cutter. 
 So very smooth was the surface of the lake, that 
 it was not found necessary to bring the batteaux 
 into the river to receive their freights, but the 
 beach outside being totally without surf, and the 
 water as tranquil as that of a pond, everybody 
 embarked there. As Cap had said, there was no 
 heaving and setting, no working of vast lungs, 
 nor any respiration of an ocean; for, on Ontario, 
 unlike the Atlantic, gales were not agitating the 
 element at one point, while calms prevailed at 
 another. This the distances did not permit ; and 
 it is the usual remark of mariners that the sea 
 gets up faster and goes down sooner, on all the 
 great lakes of the West, than on the different 
 seas of their acquaintance. When the boat left 
 the land, therefore, Mabel would not have known 
 that she was afloat on so broad a sheet of water, 
 by any movement that is usual to such circum- 
 stances. The oars had barely time to give a 
 dozen strokes, when the boat lay at the cutter’s 
 side. 
 
 Jasper was in readiness to receive his passen- 
 gers, and, as the deck of the Scud was but two 
 or three feet above the water, no difficulty was 
 experienced in getting on board her. As soon as 
 this was effected, the young man pointed out to 
 Mabel and her companion the accommodations 
 prepared for their reception, and they took pos- 
 session of them. The little vessel contained four 
 apartments below, all between decks having been 
 expressly constructed with a view to the trans- 
 portation of officers and men, with their wives 
 and families. First in rank was what was called 
 the after-cabin, a small apartment that contained 
 four berths, and which enjoyed the advantage of 
 possessing small windows, for the admission of air 
 and light. This was uniformly devoted to fe- 
 males, whenever any were on board ; and, as 
 Mabel and her companion were alone, they had 
 ample space and accommodation. The main- 
 cabin was larger, and lighted from above. It 
 was now appropriated to the uses of the quarter- 
 master, the sergeant, Cap, and Jasper ; the Path- 
 finder roaming through any part of the cutter he 
 pleased, the female apartment excepted. The 
 corporals and common soldiers occupied the space 
 beneath the main-hatch, which had a deck for 
 such a purpose ; while the crew were berthed, as 
 usual, in the forecastle. Although the cutter did 
 not measure quite fifty tons, the draft of officers 
 and men was so light, that there was ample room 
 for all on board, there being space enough to ac- 
 commodate treble the number, if necessary. 
 
 As soon as Mabel had taken possession of her 
 own really comfortable and pretty cabin, in doing 
 
84 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 which she could not abstain from indulging in 
 the pleasant reflection that some of Jasper’s 
 favor had been especially manifested in her be- 
 half, she went on deck again- Here all was 
 momentarily in motion; the men were roving to 
 and fro, in quest of their knapsacks and other 
 effects ; but method and habit soon reduced 
 things to order, when the stillness on board be- 
 came even imposing, for it* was connected with 
 the idea of future adventure and ominous prep- 
 aration. 
 
 Darkness was now beginning to render objects 
 on shore indistinct, the whole of the land form- 
 ing one shapeless, black outline of even forest- 
 summits, that was to be distinguished from the 
 impending heavens only by the greater light of 
 the. sky. The stars, however, soon began to ap- 
 pear in the latter, one after another, in their 
 usual mild, placid lustre, bringing with them that 
 sense of quiet which ordinarily accompanies 
 night. There was something soothing as well as 
 exciting in such a scene ; and Mabel, who was 
 seated on the quarter-deck, sensibly felt both 
 influences. The Pathfinder was standing near 
 her, leaning, as usual, on his long rifle, and she 
 fancied that, through the glowing darkness of 
 the hour, she could trace even stronger lines of 
 thought than were usual in his rugged counte- 
 nance. 
 
 “To you, Pathfinder, expeditions like this 
 can be no great novelty,” she said, “though I 
 am surprised to find how silent and thoughtful 
 the men appear to be.” 
 
 “ We l’arn this, by making war ag’in Injins. 
 Your militia are great talkers, and little doers, 
 in gin’ral ; but the soger who has often met the 
 Mingoes, l’arns to know the valie of a prudent 
 tongue. A silent army, in the woods, is doubly 
 strong, and a noisy one, doubly weak. If tongues 
 made soldiers, the women of a camp would gener- 
 ally carry the day.” 
 
 “But we are neither an army nor in the 
 woods. There can be no danger of Mingoes in 
 the Scud.” 
 
 “ Ask Jasper how he got to be master of this 
 cutter, and you will find yourself answered as to 
 that opinion ! No one is safe from a Mingo who 
 doesn’t understand his very natur’ ; and even 
 then he must act up to his own knowledge, and 
 that closely. Ask Jasper how he got command 
 of this very cutter ! ” 
 
 “ And how did he get the command ? ” in- 
 quired Mabel, with an earnestness and interest 
 that delighted her simple-minded and true-hearted 
 companion, who was never better pleased than 
 when he had an opportunity of saying aught in 
 
 favor of a friend. “ It is honorable to him that 
 he has reached this station while yet so young.” 
 
 “ That is it — but he deserved it all, and more. 
 A frigate wouldn’t have been too much to pay 
 for so much spirit and coolness, had there been 
 such a thing on Ontario, as there is not, hows- 
 ever, or likely to be.” 
 
 “ But Jasper — you have not yet told me how 
 he got the command of the schooner ? ” 
 
 “ It is a long story, Mabel, and one your fa- 
 ther, the sergeant, can tell much better than I, 
 for he was present, while I was off on a distant 
 scoutin’. Jasper is not good at a story, I will 
 own that ; I’ve heard him questioned about this 
 affair, and he never made a good tale of it, al- 
 though everybody knows it was a good thing. 
 No — no — Jasper is not good at a story, as his 
 best friends must own. The Scud had near 
 fallen into the hands of the French and the Min- 
 goes when Jasper saved her, in a way that none 
 but a quick-witted mind and a bold heart would 
 have attempted. The sergeant will tell the tale 
 better than I can, and I wish you to question 
 him some day when nothing better offers. As 
 for Jasper himself there will be no use in worry- 
 ing the lad, since he will make a bungling matter 
 of it, for he don’t know how to give a history at 
 all.” 
 
 Mabel determined to ask her father to repeat 
 the incidents of the affair that very night, for it 
 struck her young fancy that nothing better could 
 well offer than to listen to the praises of one who 
 was a bad historian of his own exploits. 
 
 “ Will the Scud remain with us when we reach 
 the island ? ” she asked, after a little hesitation 
 about the propriety of the question, “ or shall we 
 be left to ourselves ? ” 
 
 “ That’s as may be. Jasper does not often 
 keep the cutter idle when anything is to be done, 
 and we may expect activity on his part. My 
 gifts, howsever, run so little toward the water, and 
 vessels gin’rally, unless it be among rapids and 
 falls, and in canoes, that I pretend to know noth- 
 ing about it. We shall have all right, under Jas- 
 per, I make no doubt, who can find a trail on On- 
 tario as well as a Delaware can find one on the 
 land.” 
 
 “And our own Delaware, Pathfinder — the 
 Big Serpent — why is he not with us to-night?” 
 
 “Your question would have been more nat’ral 
 had you said, why are you here, Pathfinder? — 
 The Sarpent is in his place, while I am not in 
 mine. He is out with two or three more scout- 
 ing the lake-shores, and will join us down among 
 the islands with the tidings he may gather. The 
 sergeant is too good a soldier to forget his rea* 
 
APPREHENSIONS OF DANGER. 
 
 85 
 
 while he is facing the enemy in front ! It’s a 
 thousand pities, Mabel, your father wasn’t born a 
 gin’ral, as some of the English are who come 
 among us, for I feel sartin he wouldn’t leave a 
 Frencher in the Canadas a week could he have 
 his own way with them.” 
 
 “ Shall we have enemies to face in front ? ” 
 asked Mabel, smiling, and for the first time feel- 
 ing a slight apprehension about the dangers of 
 the expedition. “ Are we likely to have an en- 
 gagement ? ” 
 
 “ If we have, Mabel, there will be men enough 
 ready and willing to stand atween you and harm. 
 But you are a soldier’s daughter, and we all know 
 have the spirit of one. Don’t let the fear of bat- 
 tle keep your pretty eyes from sleeping.” 
 
 “ I do feel braver out here in the woods, Path- 
 finder, than I ever felt before amid the weak- 
 nesses of the towns, although I have always tried 
 to remember what I owe to my dear father.” 
 
 “ Ay, your mother was so before you ! ‘You 
 will find Mabel like her mother, no screamer or a 
 faint-hearted girl to trouble a man in his need, 
 but one who would encourage her mate, and help 
 to keep his heart up when sorest pressed by dan- 
 ger,’ said the sergeant to me, before I ever laid 
 eyes on that sweet countenance of yours — he 
 did ! « 
 
 “ And why should my father have told you 
 this, Pathfinder ? ” the girl demanded, a little ear- 
 nestly. “Perhaps he fancied you would think 
 the better of me, if you did not believe me a sil- 
 ly coward, as so many of my sex love to make 
 themselves appear.” 
 
 Deception, unless it were at the expense of his 
 enemies in the field — nay, concealment of even a 
 thought — was so little in accordance with the 
 Pathfinder’s very nature, that he was not a little 
 embarrassed by this simple question. To own 
 the truth openly, he felt, by a sort of instinct for 
 which it would have puzzled him to account, 
 would not be proper ; and to hide it, agreed with 
 neither his sense of right nor his habits. In such 
 a strait, he involuntarily took refuge in a middle 
 course, not revealing that which he fancied ought 
 not to be told, nor yet absolutely concealing it. 
 
 “ You must know, Mabel,” he said, “ that the 
 sergeant and I are old friends, and have stood 
 side by side — or, if not actually side by side, I a 
 .ittle in advance, as became a scout, and your fa- 
 ther, with his own men, as better suited a soldier 
 &f the king — on many a hard-fought and bloody 
 day. It’s the way of us skirmishers to think lit- 
 tle of the fight, when the rifle has done crack- 
 ing; and at night, around our fires, or on our 
 inarches, we talk of the things we love, just as 
 
 you young women convarse about your fancies 
 and opinions, when you get together to laugh 
 over your idees. Now it was natural that the 
 sergeant, having such a daughter as you, should 
 love her better than any thing else, and that h« 
 should talk of her oftener than of any thing else, 
 — while I, having neither daughter, nor sister, 
 nor mother, nor kith nor kin, nor any thing but 
 the Delawares to love, I nat’rally chimed in, as 
 it were, and got to love you, Mabel, before I ever 
 saw you — yes I did — just by talking about you so 
 much.” 
 
 “ And now you have seen me,” returned the 
 smiling girl, whose unmoved and natural manner 
 proved how little she was thinking of any thing 
 more than parental or fraternal regard, “ you are 
 beginning to see the folly of forming friendships 
 for people before you know any thing about them, 
 except by hearsay.” 
 
 “It wasn’t friendship — it isn’t friendship, 
 Mabel, that I feel for you. I am the friend of 
 the Delawares, and have been so from boyhood ; 
 but my feelings for them, or for the best of them, 
 are not the same as them I got from the sergeant 
 for you ; and especially now that I begin to know 
 you better. I’m sometimes afear’d it isn’t whole- 
 some for one who is much occupied in a very 
 manly calling, like that of a guide, or a scout, or 
 a soldier even, to form friendships for women — 
 young women in particular — as they seem to me 
 to lessen the love of enterprise, and to turn the 
 feelings away from their gifts and natural occu- 
 pations.” 
 
 “You surely do not mean, Pathfinder, that a 
 friendship for a girl like me would make you less 
 bold, and more unwilling to meet the French, 
 than you were before ? ” 
 
 “ Not so — not so. With you in danger, for 
 instance, I fear I might become foolhardy ; but 
 before we became so intimate, as I may say, I 
 loved to think of my scoutin’s, and of my march- 
 es, and outlyings, and fights, and other adven- 
 tures ; but now my mind cares less about them ; 
 I think more of the barracks and of evenings 
 passed in discourse, of feelin’s in which there are 
 no wranglings and bloodshed, and of young wom- 
 en, and of their laughs, and their cheerful soft 
 voices, their pleasant looks, and their winning 
 ways! I sometimes tell the sergeant that he 
 and his daughter will be the spoiling of one of 
 the best and most experienced scouts on the 
 lines ! ” 
 
 “ Not they, Pathfinder; they will try to make 
 that which is already so excellent, perfect. You 
 do not know us, if you think that either wishes 
 to see you in the least changed. Remain, as at 
 
86 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 present, the same honest, upright, conscientious, 
 fearless, intelligent, trustworthy guide, that you 
 are, and neither my dear father nor myself can 
 ever think of you differently from what we now 
 do.” 
 
 It was too dark for Mabel to note the work- 
 ings of the countenance of her listener, but her 
 her own sweet face was turned toward him, as 
 she spoke with an energy equal to her frankness, 
 in a way to show how little embarrassed were 
 her thoughts, and how sincere were her words. 
 Her countenance was a little flushed, it is true, 
 but it was with earnestness and truth of feeling ; 
 though no nerve thrilled, no limb trembled, no 
 pulsation quickened. In short, her manner and 
 appearance were those of a sincere-minded and 
 frank girl, making such a declaration of good-will 
 and regard for one of the other sex as she felt 
 that his services and good qualities merited, with- 
 out any of the emotion that invariably accompa- 
 nies the consciousness of an inclination which 
 might lead to softer disclosures. 
 
 The Pathfinder was too unpractised, however, 
 to enter into distinctions of this kind, and his 
 humble nature was encouraged by the directness 
 and strength of the words he had just heard. 
 Unwilling, if not unable, to say any more, he 
 walked away, and stood leaning on his rifle, and 
 looking up at the stars, for quite ten minutes, in 
 profound silence. 
 
 In the mean while, the interview on the bas- 
 tion, to which we have already alluded, took 
 place between Lundie and the sergeant. 
 
 “ Have the men’s knapsacks been examined ? ” 
 demanded Major Duncan, after he had cast his 
 eye at a written report, handed to him by the 
 sergeant, but which it was too dark to read. 
 
 “ All, your honor ; and all are right.” 
 
 “ The ammunition — arms — ? ” 
 
 “ All in order, Major Duncan, and fit for any 
 service.” 
 
 “ You have the men named in my own draft, 
 Dunham ? ” 
 
 “ Without an exception, sir. Better men could 
 not be found in the regiment.” 
 
 “You have need of the best of our men, ser- 
 geant. This experiment has now been tried three 
 times ; always under one of the ensigns, who have 
 flattered me with success, but have as often failed. 
 After so much preparation and expense, I do not 
 like to abandon the project entirely ; but this 
 will be the last effort: and the result will mainly 
 depend on you and on the Pathfinder.” 
 
 “You may count on us both, Major Duncan. 
 The duty you have given us is not above our 
 habits and experience, and I think it will be well 
 
 done. I know that the Pathfinder will not bs 
 wanting.” 
 
 “ On that, indeed, it will be safe to rely. He 
 is a most extraordinary man, Dunham — one who 
 long puzzled me ; but who, now that I understand 
 him, commands as much of my respect as anj 
 general in his majesty’s service.” 
 
 “ I was in hopes, sir, that you would come to 
 look at the proposed marriage with Mabel, as a 
 thing I ought to wish and forward.” 
 
 “As for that, sergeant, time will show,” re- 
 turned Lundie, smiling; though here, too, the 
 obscurity concealed the nicer shades of expres- 
 sion — “one woman is sometimes more difficult 
 to manage than a whole regiment of men. By* 
 the-way, you know that your would-be son-in-law, 
 the quartermaster, will be of the party ; and I 
 trust you will at least give him an equal chance 
 in the trial for your daughter’s smiles.” 
 
 “ If respect for his rank, sir, did not cause me 
 to do this, your honor’s wish would be sufficient.” 
 
 “I thank you, sergeant. We have served 
 much together, and ought to value each other in 
 our several stations. Understand me, however : 
 I ask no more for Davy Muir than a clear field 
 and no favor. In love, as in war, each man must 
 gain his own victories. Are you certain that the 
 rations have been properly calculated ? ” 
 
 “ I’ll answer for it, Major Duncan ; but, if they 
 were not, we cannot suffer with two such hunters 
 as Pathfinder and the Serpent in company.” 
 
 “ That will never do,. Dunham,” interrupted 
 Lundie, sharply; “and it comes of your Ameri- 
 can birth and American training ! Not horough 
 soldier ever relies on any thing but his commis- 
 sary for supplies ; and I beg no part of my regi- 
 ment may be the first to set an example to the 
 contrary.” 
 
 “ You have only to command, Major Duncan, 
 to be obeyed ; and yet, if I might presume, sir—” 
 
 “ Speak freely, sergeant ; you are talking with 
 a friend.” 
 
 “ I was merely about to say that I find even 
 the Scotch soldiers like venison and birds quite as 
 well as pork, when they are difficult to be had.” 
 
 “That may be very true; but likes and 
 dislikes have nothing to do with system. An 
 army can rely on nothing but its commissaries. 
 The irregularity of the provincials has played the 
 devil with the king’s service too long to be 
 winked at any longer.” 
 
 “ General Braddock, your honor, might have 
 been advised by Colonel Washington.” 
 
 “Out upon your Washington! You’re an 
 provincials together, man, and uphold each othei 
 as if you were of a sworn confederacy.” 
 
THE MAJOR’S SUSPICIONS. 
 
 87 
 
 “I believe his majesty has no more loyal 
 subjects than the Americans, your honor.” 
 
 “ In that, Dunham, I’m thinking you’re right ; 
 and I have been a little too warm, perhaps. I do 
 not consider you a provincial, however, sergeant ; 
 for, though bom in America, a better soldier 
 never shouldered a musket.” 
 
 “And Colonel Washington, your honor— ?” 
 
 “Well; and Colonel Washington may be a 
 useful subject, too. He is the American prodigy ; 
 and I suppose I may as well give him all the 
 credit you ask. You have no doubt of the skill 
 of this Jasper Eau-douce ? ” 
 
 “ The boy has been tried, sir ; and found 
 equal to all that can be required of him.” 
 
 “He has a French name, and has passed 
 much of his boyhood in the French colonies — 
 has he French blood in his veins, sergeant ? ” 
 
 “Not a drop, your honor. Jasper’s father 
 was an old comrade of my own, and his mother 
 came of an honest and loyal family, in this very 
 province.” 
 
 “ How came he then so much among the 
 French, and whence his name ? — He speaks the 
 language of the Canadas, too, I find ! ” 
 
 “That is easily explained, Major Duncan. 
 The boy was left under the care of one of our 
 mariners in the old war, and he took to the water 
 Kke a duck. Your honor knows that we have no 
 ports on Ontario, that can be named as such, and 
 he naturally passed most of his time on the other 
 side of the lake, where the French have had a few 
 vessels these fifty years. He learned to speak 
 their language, as a matter of course, and got his 
 name from the Indians and Canadians, who are 
 fond of calling men by their qualities, as it might 
 be.” 
 
 “ A French master is but a poor instructor for 
 a British sailor, notwithstanding ? ” 
 
 “ I beg your pardon, sir ; Jasper Eau-douce 
 was brought up under a real English seaman ; 
 one that had sailed under the king’s pennant, and 
 may be called a thorough-bred : that is to say, a 
 subject born in the colonies, but none the worse 
 at his trade, I hope, Major Duncan, for that.” 
 
 “Perhaps not, sergeant— perhaps not; nor 
 any better. This Jasper behaved well, too, when 
 I gave him the command of the Scud; no lad 
 could have conducted himself more loyally or 
 better.” 
 
 “Or more bravely, Major Duncan. I am 
 sorry to see, sir, that you have doubts as to the 
 fidelity of Jasper.” 
 
 “ It is the duty of the soldier who is intrusted 
 with the care of a distant and important post like 
 this, Dunham, never to relax in his vigilance. We 
 
 have two of the most artful enemies that the 
 world has ever produced, iA their several ways, 
 to contend with — the Indians and the French; 
 and nothing should be overlooked that can lead 
 to injury.” 
 
 “ I hope your honor considers me fit to be 
 intrusted with any particular reason that may 
 exist for doubting Jasper, since you have seen fit 
 to intrust me with this command.” 
 
 “ It is not that I doubt you, Dunham, that I 
 hesitate to reveal all I may happen to know, but 
 from a strong reluctance to circulate an evil report 
 concerning one of whom I have hitherto thought 
 well. You must think well of the Pathfinder, or 
 you would not wish to give him your daughter ? ” 
 
 “ For the Pathfinder’s honesty, I will answer 
 with my life, sir ” — returned the sergeant firmly, 
 and not without a dignity of manner that struck 
 his superior. “Such a man doesn’t know how to 
 be false.” 
 
 “ I believe you are right, Dunham, and yet 
 this last information has unsettled all my old 
 opinions. I have received an anonymous com- 
 munication, sergeant, advising me to be on my 
 guard against Jasper Western, or Jasper Eau- 
 douce, as he is called ; who, it alleges, has been 
 bought by the enemy, and giving me reason to 
 expect that further and more precise information 
 will soon be sent.” 
 
 “ Letters without signatures to them, sir, are 
 scarcely to be regarded in war.” 
 
 “ Or in peace, Dunham. No one can entertain 
 a lower opinion of the writer of an anonymous 
 letter, in ordinary matters, than myself. The 
 very act denotes cowardice, meanness, and base- 
 ness ; and it usually is a token of falsehood, as 
 well as of other vices. But, in matters of war, 
 it is not exactly the same thing. Besides, several 
 suspicious circumstances have been pointed out 
 to me — ” 
 
 “ Such as is fit for an orderly to hear, your 
 honor ? ” 
 
 “ Certainly, one in whom I confide as much 
 as in yourself, Dunham. It is said, for instance, 
 that your daughter and her party were permitted 
 to escape the Iroquois, when they came in, merely 
 to give Jasper credit with me. I am told that 
 the gentry at Frontenac will care more for the 
 capture of the Scud, with Sergeant Dunham and 
 a party of men, together with the defeat of our 
 favorite plan, than for the capture of a girl, and 
 the scalp of her uncle.” 
 
 “ I understand the hint, sir, but I do not give 
 it credit. Jasper can hardly be true, and Path- 
 finder false ; and as for the last, I would as soon 
 distrust your honor as distrust him 1 ” 
 
88 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ It would seem so, sergeant ; it would indeed 
 seem so. But Jasper is not the Pathfinder, after 
 all, and I will own, Dunham, I should put more 
 faith in the lad, if he didn’t speak French ! ” 
 
 “It’s no recommendation in my eyes, I assure 
 your honor ; but the boy learned it by compulsion, 
 as it were, and ought not to be condemned too 
 hastily, for the circumstance, by your honor’s 
 leave. If he does speak French, it’s because he 
 can’t well help it.” 
 
 “ It’s a d d lingo, and never did any one 
 
 good — at least no British subject ; for I suppose 
 the French themselves must talk together in some 
 language or other. I should have much more 
 faith in this Jasper did he know nothing of their 
 language. This letter has made me uneasy ; and, 
 were there another to whom I could trust the 
 cutter, I would devise some means to detain him 
 here. I have spoken to you already of a brother- 
 in-law who goes with you, sergeant, and who is a 
 sailor ? ” 
 
 “ A real seafaring man, your honor, and some- 
 what prejudiced against fresh water. I doubt if he 
 could be induced to risk his character on a lake, 
 and I’m certain he never could find the station.” 
 
 “ The last is probably true, and then, the man 
 cannot know enough of this treacherous lake to 
 be fit for the employment ! You will have to be 
 doubly vigilant, Dunham. I give you full powers, 
 and, should you detect this Jasper in any treach- 
 ery, make him a sacrifice at once to offended 
 justice.” 
 
 “Being in the service of the crown, your 
 honor, he is amenable to martial law — ■” 
 
 “ Very true — then iron him, from his head to 
 his heels, and send him up here, in his own cutter. 
 That brother-in-law of yours must be able to find 
 the way back, after he has once travelled the 
 road.” 
 
 “I make no doubt, Major Dunham, we shall 
 be able to do all that will be necessary, should 
 Jasper turn out as you seem to anticipate ; though 
 I think I would risk my life on his truth.” 
 
 “ I like your confidence; it speaks well for the 
 fellow— but that infernal letter ! — There is such 
 an air of truth about it — nay, there is so much 
 truth in it, touching other matters — ” 
 
 “ I think your honor said it wanted the name 
 at the bottom ; a great omission for an honest 
 man to make.” 
 
 “ Quite right, Dunham, and no one but a 
 rasca., and a cowardly rascal into the bargain, 
 would write an anonymous .jetter, on private 
 affairs. It is different, however, in war. Dis- 
 patches are feigned, and artifice is generally al- 
 lowed to be justifiable.” 
 
 “ Military, manly artifices, sir, if you will ; such 
 as ambushes, surprises, feints, false attacks, and 
 even spies ; but I never heard of a true soldier 
 who could wish to undermine the character of 
 an honest young man, by such means as these 1 ” 
 
 “ I have met with many strange events, and 
 some stranger people, in the course of my experi- 
 ence. But fare-you-well, sergeant ; I must detain 
 you no longer. You are now on your guard, and 
 I recommend to you untiring vigilance. I think 
 Muir means shortly to retire, and, should you fully 
 succeed in this enterprise, my influence will not 
 be wanting in endeavoring to put you into the 
 vacancy, to which you have many claims ! ” 
 
 “ I humbly thank your honor,” coolly returned 
 the sergeant, who had been encouraged in this 
 manner, any time for the preceding twenty years, 
 “and hope I shall never disgrace my station, 
 whatever it may be. I am what Nature and Prov- 
 idence have’ made me, and I hope I’m satisfied.” 
 
 “ You have not forgotten the howitzer ? ” 
 
 “ Jasper took it on board this morning, sir.” 
 
 “ Be wary, and do not trust that man unneces- 
 sarily. Make a confidant of Pathfinder at once ; 
 he may be of service in detecting any villany 
 that may be stirring. His simple honesty will 
 favor his observation, by concealing it. He must 
 be true.” 
 
 “ For him, sir, my own head shall answer, or 
 even my rank in the regiment. I have seen him 
 too often tried to doubt him.” 
 
 “Of all wretched sensations, Dunham, distrust, 
 where one is compelled to confide, is the most 
 painful. You have bethought you of the spare 
 flints ? ” 
 
 “ A sergeant is a safe commander for all such 
 details, your honor.” 
 
 “Well, then, give me your hand, Dunham. 
 God bless you, and may you be successful ! Muir 
 means to retire — by-the-way, let the man have 
 an equal chance with your daughter, for it may 
 facilitate future operations about the promotion. 
 One would retire more cheerfully with such a 
 companion as Mabel, than in cheerless widow- 
 hood, and with nothing but one’s self to love, and 
 such a self, too, as Davy’s ! ” 
 
 “ I hope, sir, my child will make a prudent 
 choice, and I think her mind is already pretty 
 much made up in favor of Pathfinder. Still she 
 shall have fair play, though disobedience is the 
 next crime to mutiny.” 
 
 “ Have all the ammunition carefully examined 
 and dried, as soon as you arrive ; the damp of 
 the lake may affect it ; and now, once more, fare- 
 well, sergeant. Beware of that Jasper, and 
 consult with Muir in any difficulty. I shall 
 
JASPER DISTRUSTED. 
 
 89 
 
 expect you to return triumphant, this day 
 month.” 
 
 “ God bless your honor ! If any thmg should 
 happen to me, I trust to you, Major Duncan, to 
 care for an old soldier’s character.” 
 
 * “ Rely on me, Dunham — you will rely on a 
 
 friend. Be vigilant ; remember you will be in the 
 very jaws of the lion — pshaw ! of no lion, neither; 
 but of treacherous tigers — in their very jaws, and 
 beyond support. Have the flints counted and 
 examined in the morning — and — farewell, Dun- 
 ham, farewell ! ” 
 
 The sergeant took the extended hand of his 
 superior with proper respect, and they finally 
 parted ; Lundie hastening into his own movable 
 abode, while the other left the fort, descended to 
 the beach, and got into a boat. 
 
 Duncan of Lundie had said no more than the 
 truth, when he spoke of the painful nature of 
 distrust. Of all the feelings of the human mind, 
 it is that which is the most treacherous in its 
 workings, the most insidious in its approaches, 
 and the least at the command of a generous 
 temperament. While doubt exists, every thing 
 may be suspected, the thoughts having no definite 
 facts to set bounds to their wanderings ; and, dis- 
 trust once admitted, it is impossible to say to 
 what extent conjecture may lead, or whither 
 credulity may follow. That which had previously 
 seemed innocent, assumes the hue of guilt, as 
 soon as this uneasy tenant has taken possession 
 of the thoughts; and nothing is said or done 
 without being subjected to the colorings and dis- 
 figurations of jealousy and apprehension. If this 
 is true in ordinary affairs, it is doubly true when 
 any heavy responsibility, involving life or death, 
 weighs on the unsettled mind of its subject ; as 
 in the case of the military commander, or the 
 agent in the management of any great political 
 interest. It is not to be supposed, then, that 
 Sergeant Dunham, after he had parted from his 
 commanding officer, was likely to forget the 
 injunctions he had received. He thought highly 
 of Jasper, in general ; but distrust had been in- 
 sinuated between his former confidence and the 
 obligations of duty; and, as he now felt that 
 every thing depended on his own vigilance, by 
 the time the boat reached the side of the Scud, 
 he was in a proper humor to let no suspicious 
 circumstance go unheeded, or any unusual move- 
 ment in the young sailor pass without its comment. 
 As a matter of course, he viewed things in the 
 light suited to his peculiar mood ; and his pre- 
 cautions, as well as his distrust, partook of the 
 habits, opinions, and education of the man. 
 
 The Scud’s kedge was lifted as soon as the 
 
 | boat, with the sergeant, who was the last person 
 | expected, was seen to quit| fye? shore, , and the 
 head of the cutter was cast to the eastward by 
 means of the sweeps. A few vigorous strokes 
 of the latter, in which the soldiers aided, sent the 
 light craft into the line of the current that flowed 
 from the river, when she was suffered to drift 
 into the offing again. As yet, there was no wind, 
 the light and almost imperceptible air from the 
 lake, that had existed previously to the setting of 
 the sun, having entirely failed. 
 
 All this time, an unusual quiet prevailed in 
 the cutter. It appeared as if those on board of 
 her felt that they were entering upon an uncer- 
 tain enterprise, in the obscurity of night ; and 
 that their duty, the hour, and the manner of their 
 departure, lent a solemnity to their movements. 
 Discipline also came in aid of these feelings. 
 Most were silent ; and those who said any thing, 
 spoke seldom, and in low voices. In this man- 
 ner, the cutter set slowly out into the lake, until 
 she had got as far as the river-current would car- 
 ry her, when she became stationary, waiting for 
 the usual land-breeze. An interval of half an 
 hour followed, during the whole of which time 
 the Scud lay as motionless as a log, floating on 
 the water. While the little changes just men- 
 tioned were occurring in the situation of the ves- 
 sel, notwithstanding the general quiet that pre- 
 vailed, all conversation had not been repressed; 
 for Sergeant Dunham, having first ascertained 
 that both his daughter and her female companion 
 were on the quarter-deck, led the Pathfinder to 
 the after-cabin, where, closing the door with 
 great caution, and otherwise making certain he 
 was beyond the reach of eavesdroppers, he com- 
 menced as follows : 
 
 “ It is now many years, my friend, since you 
 began to experience the hardships and dangers of 
 the woods in my company.” 
 
 “ It is, sergeant ; yes, it is. I sometimes fear 
 I am too old for Mabel, who was not born until 
 you and I had fou’t the Frenchers as comrades.” 
 
 “No fear on that account, Pathfinder. I was 
 near your age before I prevailed on the mind of 
 her mother ; and Mabel is a steady, thoughtful 
 girl, one that will regard character more than any 
 thing else. A lad like Jasper Eau-douce, for in- 
 stance, will have no chance with her, though he is 
 both young and comely.” 
 
 “ Does Jasper think of marrying ? ” inquired 
 the guide, simply but earnestly. 
 
 “ I should hope not — at least not until he has 
 satisfied every one of his fitness to possess a 
 wife.” 
 
 “Jasper is a gallant boy, and one of great 
 
THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 gifts in his way ; he may claim a wife as well as 
 anothei.” x *\ \ '■ 
 
 “ To be frank with you, Pathfinder, I brought 
 you here to talk about this very youngster. Ma- 
 jor Duncan has received some information which 
 has led him to suspect that Eau-douce is false, 
 and in the pay of the enemy ; I wish to hear your 
 opinion on the subject.” 
 
 “Anan!” 
 
 “ I say that the major suspects Jasper of be- 
 ing a traitor — a French spy — or, what is worse, 
 of being bought to betray us. He has received a 
 letter to this effect, and has been charging me to 
 keep an eye on the boy’s movements, for he fears 
 we shall meet with enemies when we least expect 
 it, and by his means.” 
 
 “Duncan of Lundie has told you this, Ser- 
 geant Dunham ? ” 
 
 “ He has, indeed, Pathfinder ; and, though I 
 have been loath to believe any thing to the injury 
 of Jasper, I have a feeling which tells me I ought 
 to distrust him. Do you believe in presentiments, 
 my friend ? ” 
 
 “ In what, sergeant ? ” 
 
 “Presentiments — a sort of secret foreknowl- 
 edge of events that are about to happen. The 
 Scotch of our regiment are great sticklers for such 
 things ; and my opinion of Jasper is changing so 
 fast that I begin to fear there must be some truth 
 in their doctrines.” 
 
 “But you’ve been talking with Duncan of 
 Lundie consarning Jasper, and his words have 
 raised misgivin’s.” 
 
 “ Not it — not so in the least. For while con- 
 versing with the major, my feelings were alto- 
 gether the other way ; and I endeavored to con- 
 vince him all I could that he did the boy injus- 
 tice. But there is no use holding out against a 
 presentiment, I find ; and I fear there is some- 
 thing in the suspicion, after all.” 
 
 “ I know nothing of presentiments, sergeant, 
 but I have known Jasper Eau-douce since he was 
 a boy, and I have as much faith in his honesty as 
 f have in my own, or that of the Sarpent him- 
 self.” 
 
 “ But the Serpent, Pathfinder, has his tricks 
 •nd ambushes in war, as well as another.” 
 
 “ Ay, them are his nat’ral gifts, and such as 
 belong to his people. Neither red-skin nor pale- 
 face can deny natur’ ; but Chingachgook is not a 
 man to feel presentiment ag’in.” 
 
 “ That I believe ; nor should I have thought 
 ill of J asper this very morning. It seems to me, 
 Pathfinder, since I’ve taken up this presentiment, 
 that the lad does not bustle about his deck, nat- 
 urally, as he used to do ; but that he is silent, and 
 
 moody, and thoughtful, like a man who has a 
 load on his conscience.” 
 
 “ Jasper is never noisy, and he tells me noisy 
 ships are generally ill-worked ships. Master 
 Cap agrees in this, too. No — no — I will believe 
 naught against Jasper until I see it. Send for 
 your brother, sergeant, and let us question him 
 in this matter ; for to sleep with distrust of one’s 
 fri’nd in the heart, is like sleeping with lead there. 
 I have no faith in your presentiments.” 
 
 The sergeant, although he scarce knew, him- 
 self, with what object, complied, and Cap was 
 summoned to join in the consultation. As Path- 
 finder was more collected than his companion, 
 and felt so strong a conviction of the good faith 
 of the party accused, he assumed the office of 
 spokesman. 
 
 “We have asked you to come down, Master 
 Cap,” he commenced, “ in order to inquire if you 
 have remarked any thing out of the common way, 
 in the movements of Eau-douce, this evening? ” 
 
 “ His movements are common enough, I dare 
 say, for fresh water, Master Pathfinder, though 
 we should think most of his proceedings irregular, 
 down on the coast.” 
 
 “Yes, yes — we know you will never agree 
 with the lad about the manner the cutter ought 
 to be managed ; but it is on another p’int we wish 
 your opinion.” 
 
 The Pathfinder then explained to Cap the na- 
 ture of the suspicions which the sergeant enter- 
 tained, and the reasons why they had been ex- 
 cited, so far as the latter had been communicated 
 by Major Duncan. 
 
 “ The youngster talks French, does he ? ” 
 
 “ They say he speaks it better than common,” 
 returned the sergeant, gravely. “Pathfinder 
 knows this to be true.” 
 
 “ I’ll not gainsay it — I’ll not gainsay it,” an- 
 swered the guide, “ at least they tell me such is 
 the fact. But this would prove nothing ag’in a 
 Mississagua, and least of all ag’in one like Jasper* 
 I speak the Mingo dialect myself, having 1’arnt it 
 while a prisoner among the reptyles ; but who 
 will say I am their fri’nd ! — Not that I am an ini 
 my, either, according to Injin notions ; though 1 
 am their inimy, I will admit, agreeable to Chris- 
 tianity.” 
 
 “ Ay, Pathfinder, but Jasper did not get hia 
 French as a prisoner : he took it in, in boyhood, 
 when the mind is easily impressed, and gets its 
 permanent notions ; when nature has a presenti- 
 ment, as it were, which way the character is like- 
 ly to incline.” 
 
 “A very just remark,” added Cap, “for that 
 is the time of life when we all learn the catechism. 
 
THE GUIDE’S DEFENCE. 
 
 91 
 
 •nd other moral improvements. The sergeant’s 
 observation shows that he understands human 
 nature, and I agree with him perfectly ; it is a 
 damnable thing for a youngster, up here, on this 
 bit of fresh water, to talk French. If it were 
 down on the Atlantic now, where a seafaring man 
 has occasion sometimes to converse with a pilot, 
 or a linguister, in that language, I should not 
 think so much of it, though we always look with 
 suspicion, even there, at a shipmate who knows 
 too much of the tongue : but up here, on Ontario, 
 I hold it to be a most suspicious circumstance.” 
 
 “ But Jasper must talk in French to the peo- 
 ple on the other shore,” said Pathfinder, “or 
 hold his tongue, as there are none but French to 
 speak to.” 
 
 “You don’t mean to tell me, Pathfinder, that 
 France lies hereaway, on the opposite coast ? ” 
 cried Cap, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, in 
 the direction of the Canadas ; “ that one side of 
 this bit of fresh water is York, and the other 
 France ! ” 
 
 “ I mean to tell you this is York, and that is 
 Upper Canada ; and that English and Dutch and 
 Indian are spoken in the first, and French and 
 Indian in the last. Even the Mingoes have got 
 many of the French words in their dialect, and it 
 *s no improvement, neither.” 
 
 “Very true; and what sort of people are the 
 Mingoes, my friend ? ” inquired the sergeant, 
 touching the other on a shoulder, by way of en- 
 forcing a remark, the inherent truth of which 
 sensibly increased its value in the eyes of the 
 speaker — “ no one knows them better than your- 
 self, and I ask you what sort of a tribe are they ? ” 
 
 “ Jasper is no Mingo, sergeant.” 
 
 “ He speaks French, and he might as well be, 
 in that particular. — Brother Cap, can you recol- 
 lect no movement of this unfortunate young man, 
 in the way of his calling, that would seem to de- 
 note treachery ? ” 
 
 “ Not distinctly, sergeant, though he has gone 
 to work wrong-end foremost, half his time. It is 
 true that one of his hands coiled a rope against 
 the sun, and he called it curling a rope, too, when 
 I asked him what he was about ; but I am not cer- 
 tain that any thing was meant by it ; though I 
 dare say the French coil half their running rig- 
 ging the wrong way, and may call it ‘ curling it 
 down,’ too, for that matter. Then Jasper, him- 
 self, belayed the end of the jib-hallyards to a 
 stretcher in the rigging, instead of bringing them 
 in to the mast, where they belong, at least among 
 British sailors.” 
 
 “I dare say Jasper may have got some Cana- 
 da notions about working his craft, from being 
 
 so much on the other side — ” Pathfinder inter- 
 posed — “ but catching an i<Je« or a word isn’t 
 treachery and bad faith. I sometimes get an idee 
 from the Mingoes tb&nselves'; but my heart has 
 always been with the Delawares. No — no — Jas- 
 per is true ; the king might trust him with his 
 crown, just as he would his eldest son, who, as 
 he is to wear it one day, ought to be the last man 
 to wish to steal it.” 
 
 “Fine talking — fine talking — ” said Cap, ris- 
 ing to spit out of the cabin-window, as is cus- 
 tomary with men when they most feel their own 
 great moral strength and happen to chew tobacco 
 
 — “ all fine talking, Master Pathfinder, but d d 
 
 little logic. In the first place, the king’s majesty 
 cannot lend his crown, it being contrary to the 
 laws of the realm, which require him to wear it 
 at all times, in order that his sacred person may 
 be known, just as the silver oar is necessary to 
 a sheriff’s officer afloat. In the next place it’s 
 high-treason by law for the eldest son of his ma- 
 jesty ever to covet the crown, or to have a child 
 except in lawful wedlock, as either would de- 
 range the succession. Thus you see, Pathfinder, 
 that, in order to reason truly, one must get under 
 way, as it might be, on the right tack. Law is 
 reason, and reason is philosophy, and philosophy 
 is a steady drag — whence it follows that crowns 
 are regulated by law, reason, and philosophy.” 
 
 “ I know little of all this, Master Cap ; but 
 nothing short of seein’ and feelin’ will make me 
 think Jasper Western a traitor.” 
 
 “ There you are wrong again, Pathfinder, for 
 there is a way of proving a thing much more con- 
 clusively than by either seeing or feeling, or both 
 together : and that is, by a circumstance.” 
 
 “ It may be so in the settlements ; but it is 
 not so, here, on the lines.” 
 
 “ It is so in Nature, which is monarch over all 
 Now according to our senses, young Eau- douce is 
 this moment on deck, and by going up there 
 either of us might see and feel him ; but should 
 it afterward appear that a fact was communicated 
 to the French at this precise moment, which fact 
 no one but Jasper could communicate ; why, we 
 should be bound to believe that the circumstance 
 was true, and that our eyes and our fingers de- 
 ceived us. Any lawyer will tell you that.” 
 
 “ This is hardly right,” said Pathfinder ; “ nor 
 is it possible seein’ that it is ag’in fact.” 
 
 “ It is much more than possible, my worthy 
 guide ; it is law ; absolute, king’s law of the 
 realm, and, as such, to be respected and obeyed. 
 I’d hang my own brother on such testimony — no 
 reflections on the family being meant, sergeant.” 
 
 “ God knows how far all thi3 applies to Jas- 
 
92 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 per ; though I do believe Mr. Cap is right as to 
 the law, Pathfinder circumstances being much 
 stronger than the senses on such occasions. We 
 must all of us be watchful, and nothing suspi- 
 cious should be overlooked.” 
 
 “ Now I recollect me,” continued Cap, again 
 using the window — “there was a circumstance 
 just after we came on board this evening, that 
 is extremely suspicious, and which may be set 
 down at once as a makeweight against this 
 lad. Jasper bent on the king’s ensign with his 
 own hands, and while he pretended to be looking 
 at Mabel and the soldier’s wife, giving directions 
 about showing them below, here, and all that, he 
 got the flag union down.” 
 
 “That might have been accident,” returned 
 the sergeant, “ for such a thing has happened to 
 myself ; besides, the halyards lead to a pulley, 
 and the flag would have come right or not, ac- 
 cording to the manner in which the lad hoisted 
 it.” 
 
 “ A pulley ! ” exclaimed Cap, with strong dis- 
 gust — “ I wish, Sergeant Dunham, I could pre- 
 vail on you to use proper terms. An ensign-hal- 
 yard-block is no more a pulley than your hal- 
 bert is a boarding-pikb. It is true that, by hoist- 
 ing on one part, another part would go upper- 
 most ; but I look upon this affair of the ensign, 
 now you have mentioned your suspicions, as a 
 circumstance, and shall bear it in mind. I trust 
 supper is not to be overlooked, however, even if 
 we have a hold full of traitors.” 
 
 “It will be duly attended to, brother Cap: 
 but I shall count on you for aid in managing the 
 Scud, should any thing occur to induce me to ar- 
 rest Jasper.” 
 
 “ I’ll not fail you, sergeant ; and in such an 
 event you’ll probably learn what this cutter can 
 really perform ; for, as yet, I fancy it is pretty 
 much matter of guess-work.” 
 
 “ Well, for my part,” said Pathfinder, draw- 
 ing a heavy sigh, “ I shall cling to the hope of 
 Jasper’s innocence, and recommend plain dealing, 
 by asking the lad, himself, without further delay, 
 whether he is or not a traitor. I’ll put Jasper 
 Western ag’in all the presentiments and circum- 
 stances in the colony.” 
 
 “ That will never do,” rejoined the sergeant. 
 “ The responsibility of this affair rests with me, 
 and I request and enjoin that nothing be said to 
 any one, without my knowledge. We will all 
 keep watchful eyes about us, and take proper 
 note of circumstances.” 
 
 “ Ay — ay — circumstances are the things after 
 all,” returned Cap. “ One circumstance is worth 
 fifty facts. That I know to be the law of the 
 
 realm. Many a man has been hanged on circum* 
 stances.” 
 
 The conversation now ceased, and, after a 
 short delay, the whole party returned to the 
 deck, each individual disposed to view the con- 
 duct of the suspected Jasper in the manner most 
 suited to his own habits and character. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 M Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 
 
 So dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, 
 
 Drew Priam’s curtain in the dead of night, 
 
 And would have told him half his Troy was burned.’’ 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 All this time, matters were elsewhere passing 
 in their usual train. Jasper, like the weather, 
 and his vessel, seemed to be waiting for the land- 
 breeze; while the soldiers, accustomed to early 
 rising, had, to a man, sought their pallets in the 
 main hold. None remained on deck but the peo- 
 ple of the cutter, Mr. Muir, and the two females. 
 The quartermaster was endeavoring to render 
 himself agreeable to Mabel, while our heroine 
 herself, little affected by his assiduities, which she 
 ascribed partly to the habitual gallantry of a sol- 
 dier, and partly, perhaps, to her own pretty face, 
 was enjoying the peculiarities of a scene and sit- 
 uation that to her were full of the charms of 
 novelty. 
 
 The sails had been hoisted, but as yet not a 
 breath of air was in motion, and so still and pla- 
 cid was the lake that not the smallest motion 
 was perceptible in the cutter. She had drifted in 
 the river-current to a distance a little exceeding a 
 quarter of a mile from the land, and there she 
 lay, beautiful in her symmetry and form, but like 
 a fixture. Young Jasper was on the quarter-deck, 
 near enough to hear occasionally the conversation 
 which passed, but too diffident of his own claim, 
 and too intent on his duties, to attempt to min- 
 gle in it. The fine blue eyes of Mabel followed 
 his motions in curious expectation, and more than 
 once the quartermaster had to repeat his compli- 
 ments, ere she heard them, so intent was she on 
 the little occurrences of the vessel, and, we might 
 add, so indifferent to the eloquence of her com- 
 panion. At length even Mr. Muir became silent, 
 and there was a deep stillness on the water. 
 Presently an oar-blade fell in a boat, beneath the 
 fort, and the sound reached the cutter as distinct- 
 ly as if it had been produced on her deck. Then 
 came a murmur, like a sigh of the night, a flut- 
 tering of the canvas, the creaking of the boom, 
 and the flap of the iib. These well-known sound* 
 
SPIES ON THE LAKE. 
 
 93 
 
 were followed by a slight heel in the cutter, and 
 by the bellying of all the sails. 
 
 “ Here’s the wind, Anderson ” — called out 
 Jasper to the oldest of his sailors — “take the 
 helm/' 
 
 This brief order was obeyed ; the helm was put 
 up, the cutter’s bows fell off, and in a few min- 
 utes the water was heard murmuring under her 
 head, as the Scud glanced through the lake at 
 the rate of five miles in the hour. All this passed 
 in profound silence, when Jasper again gave the 
 order to “ ease off the sheets a little, and keep 
 her along the land.” 
 
 “ It was at this instant that the party from 
 the after-cabin reappeared on the quarter-deck. 
 
 “You’ve no inclination, Jasper, lad, to trust 
 yourself too near our neighbors the French,” ob- 
 served Muir, who took that occasion to recom- 
 mence the discourse. “ Well, well, your prudence 
 will never be questioned by me, for I like the 
 Canadas as little as you can possibly like them 
 yourself ! ” 
 
 “ I hug this shore, Mr. Muir, on account of 
 the wind. The land-breeze is always freshest 
 close in, provided you are not so near as to make 
 a lee of the trees. We have Mexico Bay to cross, 
 and that, on the present course, will give us quite 
 offing enough.” 
 
 “ I’m right glad it’s not the Bay of Mexico,” 
 put in Cap, “ which is a part of the world I would 
 rather not visit in one of your inland craft. Does 
 your cutter bear a weather helm, Master Oh-the- 
 deuce ? ” 
 
 “ She is easy on her rudder, Master Cap, but 
 likes looking up at the breeze as well as another, 
 when in lively motion.” 
 
 “ I suppose you have such things as reefs, 
 though you can hardly have occasion to use 
 them ? ” 
 
 Mabel’s bright eye detected the smile that 
 gleamed for an instant on Jasper’s handsome 
 face, but no one else saw that momentary exhi- 
 bition of surprise and contempt. 
 
 “We have reefs, and often have occasion to 
 use them,” quietly returned the young man. 
 “ Before we get in, Master Cap, an opportunity 
 may offer to show you the manner in which we 
 do so, for there is easterly weather brewing, and 
 the wind cannot chop, even on the ocean itself, 
 more readily than it flies round on Lake Ontario.” 
 
 “So much for knowing no better! I have 
 seen the wind in the Atlantic fly round like a 
 coach-wheel, in a way to keep your sails shaking 
 for an hour, and the ship would become perfectly 
 motionless from not knowing which way to turn.” 
 
 “We have no such sudden changes here, cer- 
 
 tainly,” Jasper mildly answered — “though wo 
 think ourselves liable to unexpected shifts of 
 wind. I hope, however, to carry- this land-breeze 
 as far as the first islands ; after which, there will 
 be less danger of our being seen and followed by 
 any of the lookout boats from Frontenac.” 
 
 “ Do you think the French keep spies out on 
 the broad lake, Jasper?” inquired Pathfinder. 
 
 “We know they do; one was off Oswego, 
 during the night of Monday last. A bark canoe 
 came close in with the eastern point, and landed 
 an Indian and an officer. Had you been outlying 
 that night, as usual, we should have secured one, 
 if not both of them.” 
 
 It was too dark to betray the color that deep- 
 ened on the weather-burnt features of the guide, 
 for he felt the consciousness of having lingered 
 in the fort that night, listening to the sweet 
 tones of Mabel’s voice, as she sang ballads to her 
 father, and gazing at a countenance that, to him, 
 was radiant with charms. Probity, in thought 
 and deed, being the distinguishing quality of this 
 extraordinary man’s mind, while he felt that a sort 
 of disgrace ought to attach to his idleness, on the 
 occasion mentioned, the last thought that could 
 occur would be to attempt to palliate or deny 
 his negligence. 
 
 “ I confess it, Jasper, I confess it,” he said, 
 humbly. “ Had I been out that night — and I now 
 remember no sufficient reason why I was not — il 
 might, indeed, have turned out as you say.” 
 
 “ It was the evening you passed with us, Path- 
 finder,” Mabel innocently remarked ; “ surely one 
 who lives so much of his time in the forest, in 
 front of the enemy, may be excused for giving a 
 few hours of his time to an old friend and his 
 daughter.” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, I’ve done little else but idle since 
 we reached the garrison,” returned the other, 
 sighing, “ and it is well that the lad should tell 
 me of it; the idler needs a scoldin’ — yes, he 
 needs a scoldin’.” 
 
 “ Scolding, Pathfinder ! I never dreamed of 
 saying any thing disagreeable, and least of all 
 would I think of rebuking you, because a solitary 
 spy, and an Indian or two, have escaped us ! Now 
 I know where you were, I think your absence the 
 most natural thing in the world.” 
 
 “ I think nothing of it, Jasper, I think noth- 
 ing of what you said, since it was desarved. We 
 are all human, and all do wrong.” 
 
 “ This is unkind, Pathfinder.” 
 
 “ Give me your hand, lad, give me your hand. 
 It wasn’t you that gave the lesson ; it was con- 
 science.” 
 
 “Well, well,” interrupted Cap, “now this lafc- 
 
94 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 ter matter is settled to the satisfaction of all par- 
 ties, perhaps you will tell us how it happened to 
 be known that there were spies near us so lately. 
 This looks amazingly like a circumstance ! ” 
 
 As the mariner uttered the last sentence, he 
 pressed a foot slyly on that of the sergeant, and 
 nudged the guide with his elbow, winking, at the 
 same time, though this sign was lost in the ob- 
 scurriy. 
 
 “ It is known, because their trail was found 
 next day by the Serpent, and it was that of a 
 military boot and a moccasin. One of our hunt- 
 ers, moreover, saw the canoe crossing toward 
 Frontenac next morning.” 
 
 “Did the trail lead near the garrison, Jas- 
 per ? ” Pathfinder asked, in a manner so meek 
 and subdued that it resembled the tone of a re- 
 buked school-boy. “ Did the trail lead near the 
 garrison, lad ? ” 
 
 “We thought not — though of course it did 
 not cross the river. It was followed down to the 
 eastern point, at the river’s mouth, where what 
 was doing in port might be seen ; but it did not 
 cross, as we could discover.” 
 
 “ And why didn’t you get under way, Master 
 Jasper,” Cap demanded, “ and give chase ? On 
 Tuesday morning it blew a good breeze ; one in 
 which this cutter might have run nine knots.” 
 
 “ That may do on the ocean, Master Cap,” 
 put in Pathfinder, “but it would not do here. 
 Water leaves no trail, and a Mingo and a French- 
 man are a match for the devil in a pursuit.” 
 
 “ Who wants a trail, when the chase can be 
 seen from the deck, as Jasper, here, said was the 
 case with this canoe ? and it mattered nothing if 
 there were twenty of your Mingoes and French- 
 men, with a good British-built bottom in their 
 wake. I’ll engage, Master Oh-the-deuce, had 
 you given me a call, that said Tuesday morn- 
 ing, that we should have overhauled the black- 
 guards.” 
 
 “ I dare say, Master Cap, that the advice of 
 as old a seaman as you might have done no harm 
 to as young a sailor as myself, but it is a long 
 and a hopeless chase that has a bark canoe in 
 it.” 
 
 “ You would have had only to press it hard 
 to drive it ashore.” 
 
 “ Ashore, Master Cap ! You do not under- 
 stand our lake navigation at all, if you suppose 
 it an easy matter to force a bark canoe ashore. 
 As soon as they find themselves pressed, these 
 bubbles paddle right into the wind’s eye, and be- 
 fore you know it you find yourself a mile or two 
 dead under their lee.” 
 
 “ You don’t wish me to believe, Master Jas- 
 
 per, that any one is so heedless of drowning, as 
 to put off into this lake, in one of them egg- 
 shells, when there is any wind ? ” 
 
 “ I have often crossed Ontario in a bark canoe, 
 even when there has been a good deal of sea on. 
 Well managed, they are the driest boats of which 
 we have any knowledge.” 
 
 Cap now led his brother-in-law and Pathfinder 
 aside, when he assured him that the admission of 
 Jasper concerning the spies was a “ circumstance,” 
 and “a strong circumstance,” and as such, de- 
 served his deliberate investigation ; while his ac- 
 count of the canoes was so improbable as to wear 
 the appearance of browbeating the listeners. 
 Jasper spoke confidently of the character of the 
 two individuals who had landed, and this Cap 
 deemed pretty strong proof that he knew more 
 about them than was to be gathered from a mere 
 trail. As for moccasins, he said that they were 
 worn, in that part of the world, by white men, as 
 well as by Indians ; he had purchased a pair him- 
 self ; and boots, it was notorious, did hot partic- 
 ularly make a soldier. Although much of this 
 logic was thrown away on the sergeant, still it 
 produced some effect. He thought it a little 
 singular himself that there should have been spies 
 detected so near the fort, and he knew nothing 
 of it ; nor did he believe that this was a branch 
 of knowledge that fell particularly within the 
 sphere of Jasper. It was true that the Scud had 
 once or twice been sent across the lake to land 
 men of this character, or to bring them off ; but 
 then the part played by Jasper, to his own cer- 
 tain knowledge, was very secondary, the master 
 of the cutter remaining as ignorant as any one 
 else of the purport of the visits of those whom 
 he had carried to and fro ; nor did he see why 
 he, alone, of all present, should know any thing 
 of the late visit. Pathfinder viewed the matter 
 differently. With his habitual diffidence he re- 
 proached hinself with a neglect of duty, and that 
 knowledge of which the want struck him as a 
 fault in one whose business it was to possess it, 
 appeared a merit in the young man. He saw 
 nothing extraordinary in Jasper’s knowing the 
 facts he had related ; while he did feel it was un- 
 usual, not to say disgraceful, that he himself now 
 heard of them for the first time. 
 
 “As for moccasins, Master Cap,” he said, 
 when a short pause invited him to speak, “ they 
 may be worn by pale-faces as well as by red-skins, 
 it is true, though, they never leave the same trail 
 on the foot of one as on the foot of the other. 
 Any one who is used to the woods can tell the 
 footstep of an Injin from the footstep of a white 
 man, whether it be made by a boot or a mocca- 
 
THE HUNTER’S CONFIDENCE IN EAU-DOUCE. 
 
 95 
 
 sin. It will need better evidence than this to 
 make me believe that Jasper is false.” 
 
 “You will allow, Pathfinder, that there are 
 such things in the world as traitors,” put in Cap, 
 logically. 
 
 “ I never knew an honest-minded Mingo ; one 
 that you could put faith in, if he had a temptation 
 to deceive you. Cheatin’ seems to be their gift, 
 and I sometimes think they ought to be pitied 
 for it rather than parsecuted.” 
 
 “Then why not believe that this Jasper may 
 have the same weakness ? A man is a man, and 
 human nature is sometimes but a poor concern, 
 as I know by experience ; I may say, well know 
 by experience ; at least I speak for my own hu- 
 man nature.” 
 
 This was the opening of another long and des- 
 ultory conversation, in which the probability of 
 Jasper’s guilt or innocence was argued, pro and 
 con, until both the sergeant and his brother-in- 
 law had nearly reasoned themselves into settled 
 convictions in favor of the first, while their com- 
 panion grew sturdier and sturdier in his defence 
 of the accused, and still more fixed in his opinion 
 of his being unjustly charged with treachery. In 
 this there was nothing out of the common course 
 of things, for there is no more certain way of ar- 
 riving at any particular notion, than by under- 
 taking to defend it ; and, among the most ob- 
 stinate of our opinions, may be classed those 
 which are derived from discussions in which we 
 affect to search for truth, while in reality we are 
 only fortifying prejudice. By this time, the ser- 
 geant had reached a state of mind that disposed 
 him to view every act of the young sailor with 
 distrust, and he soon got to coincide with his 
 relative in deeming the peculiar knowledge of 
 Jasper, in reference to the spies, a branch of in- 
 formation that certainly did not come within the 
 circle of his regular duties, as a “ circumstance.” 
 
 While this matter was thus discussed near 
 the taffrail, Mabel sat silent by the companion- 
 way ; Mr. Muir having gone below to look after 
 his personal comforts, and Jasper standing a little 
 aloof, with his arms crossed, and his eyes wan- 
 dering from the sails to the clouds, and the clouds 
 to the dusky outline of the shore, from the shore 
 to the lake, and from the lake back again to the 
 sails. Our heroine, too, began to commune with 
 her own thoughts. The excitement of the late 
 journey, the incidents which marked the day of 
 her arrival at the fort, the meeting with a father 
 who was virtually a stranger to her, the novelty 
 of her late situation in the garrison, and her 
 present voyage, formed a vista for the mind’s 
 eye to look back ihrough, that seemed lengthened 
 
 into months. She could with difficulty believe 
 that she had eo recently left the town, with all 
 the usages of civilized life ; and she wondered, in 
 particular, that the incidents which had occurred 
 during the descent of the Oswego, had made so 
 little impression on her mind. Too inexperienced 
 to know that events, when crowded, have the 
 effect of time, or that the quick succession of 
 novelties that pass before us in travelling, elevates 
 objects, in a measure, to the dignity of events, 
 she drew upon her memory for days and dates, 
 in order to make certain that she had known 
 Jasper, and the Pathfinder, and her own father, 
 but little more than a fortnight. Mabel was a 
 girl of heart rather than of imagination, though 
 by no means deficient in the last, and she could 
 not easily account for the strength of her feelings 
 in connection with those who were lately strangers 
 to her ; for she was not sufficiently accustomed to 
 analyze her sensations, to understand the nature 
 of the influences that have just been mentioned. 
 As yet, however, her pure mind was free from 
 the blight of distrust, and she had no suspicion 
 of the views of either of her suitors ; and one of 
 the last thoughts that could have voluntarily 
 disturbed her confidence, would have been to 
 suppose it possible either of her companions was 
 a traitor to his king and country. 
 
 America, at the time of which we are writing, 
 was remarkable for its attachment to the German 
 family that then sat on the British throne ; for, 
 as is the fact with all provinces, the virtues and 
 qualities that are proclaimed near the centre of 
 power, as incense and policy, get to be a part of 
 political faith with the credulous and ignorant, at 
 a distance. The truth is just as apparent to-day, 
 in connection with the prodigies of the republic, 
 as it then was in connection with those distant 
 rulers, whose merits it was always safe to ap- 
 plaud, and whose demerits it was treason to 
 reveal. It is a consequence of this mental de- 
 pendence, that public opinion is so much placed 
 at the mercy of the designing ; and the world, in 
 the midst of its idle boasts of knowledge and 
 improvement, is left to receive its truths, on all 
 such points as touch the interests of the powerful 
 and managing, through such a medium, and such 
 a medium only, as may serve the particular v;'ews 
 of those who pull the wires. Pressed upon by 
 the subjects of France, who were then encircling 
 the British colonies with a belt of forts and set- 
 tlements that completely secured the savages for 
 allies, it would have been difficult to say whether 
 the Americans loved the English more than they 
 hated the French; and those who then lived 
 probably would have considered the alliance 
 
96 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 which took place between the cisatlantic subjects 
 and the ancient rivals of the British crown, some 
 twenty years later, as an event entirely without 
 the circle of probabilities. In a word, as fashions 
 are exaggerated in a province, so are opinions : 
 and the loyalty that at London merely formed a 
 part of a political scheme, at New York was 
 magnified into a faith that might almost have 
 moved mountains. Disaffection was, consequently, 
 a rare offence ; and, most of all, would treason, 
 that should favor France or Frenchmen, have been 
 odious in the eyes of the provincials. The last 
 thing that Mabel would suspect of Jasper, was 
 the very crime with which he now stood secretly 
 charged ; and, if others near her endured the 
 pains of distrust, she, at least, was filled with the 
 generous confidence of a woman. As yet, no 
 whisper had reached her ear to disturb the feeling 
 of reliance with which she had early regarded 
 the young sailor, and her own mind would have 
 been the last to suggest such a thought, of itself. 
 The pictures of the past and the present, there- 
 fore, that exhibited themselves so rapidly to her 
 active imagination, were unclouded with a shade 
 that might affect any one in whom she felt an 
 interest ; and ere she had mused, in the manner 
 related, a quarter of an hour, the whole scene 
 around her was filled with unalloyed satisfaction. 
 
 The season and the night, to represent them 
 truly, were of a nature to stimulate the sensations 
 which youth, health, and happiness, are wont to 
 associate with novelty. The weather was warm, 
 as is not always the case in that region, even in 
 summer, while the air that came off the land in 
 breathing currents, brought with it the coolness 
 and fragrance of the forest. The wind was far 
 from being fresh, though there was enough of it 
 to drive the Scud merrily ahead, and perhaps to 
 keep attention alive, in the uncertainty that, more 
 or less, accompanies darkness. Jasper, however, 
 appeared to regard it with complacency, as was 
 apparent by what he said in a short dialogue that 
 now occurred between him and Mabel. 
 
 “ At this rate, Eau-douce ” (for so Mabel had 
 already learned to style the young sailor), said 
 our heroine, “ we cannot be long in reaching our 
 place of destination.” 
 
 “Has your father told you what that is, 
 Mabel?” 
 
 “ He has told mo nothing ; my father is too 
 much of a soldier, and too little used to have a 
 family around him, to talk of such matters. Is it 
 forbidden to say whither we are bound ? ” 
 
 “ It cannot be far, while we steer in this direc- 
 tion, for sixty or seventy miles will take us into 
 the St. Lawrence, which the French might make 
 
 too hot for us ; and no voyage on this lake can 
 be very long.” 
 
 “ So says my uncle Cap ; but to me, Jasper, On- 
 tario and the ocean appear very much the same.” 
 
 “You have been on the ocean, while I, who 
 pretend to be a sailor, have never yet seen salt- 
 water? You must have a great contempt for 
 such a mariner as myself, in your heart, Mabel 
 Dunham ! ” 
 
 “Then I have no such thing in my heart, 
 Jasper Eau-douce. What right have I, a girl 
 without experience or knowledge, to despise any, 
 much less one like you, who are trusted by the 
 major, and who command a vessel like this ! I 
 have never been on the ocean, though I have 
 seen it ; and, I repeat, I see no difference between 
 this lake and the Atlantic.” 
 
 “Nor in them that sail on both? I was 
 afraid, Mabel, your uncle had said so much against 
 us fresh-water sailors that you had begun to look 
 upon us as little better than pretenders.” 
 
 “ Give yourself no uneasiness on that account, 
 Jasper, for I know my uncle, and he says as many 
 things against those who live ashore when at 
 York, as he now says against those who sail on 
 fresh water. No — no ; neither my father nor my- 
 self think any thing of such opinions ; my uncle 
 Cap, if he spoke openly, would be found to have 
 even a worse notion of a soldier than of a sailor 
 who never .saw the sea.” 
 
 “ But your father, Mabel, has a better opinion 
 of soldiers than of any one else ; he wishes you 
 to be the wife of a soldier.” 
 
 “ Jasper Eau-douce ! — I, the wife of a soldier ! 
 — My father wishes it ! — Why should he wish any 
 such thing — what soldier is there in the garrison 
 that I could marry — that he could ivish me to 
 marry ? ” 
 
 “ One may love a calling so well as to fancy 
 it will cover a thousand imperfections.” 
 
 “ But one is not likely to love his own calling 
 so well as to cause him to overlook every thing 
 else. You say my father wishes me to marry a sol- 
 dier, and yet there is no soldier, at Oswego, that he 
 would be likely to give me to. I am in an awk- 
 ward position, for, while I am not good enough to 
 be the wife of one of the gentlemen of the garrison, 
 I think, even you will admit, Jasper, I am too good 
 to be the wife of one of the common soldiers.” 
 
 As Mabel spoke thus frankly, she blushed, 
 she knew not why, though the obscurity concealed 
 the fact from her companion; and she laughed 
 faintly, like one who felt that the subject, how- 
 ever embarrassing it might be, deserved to be 
 treated fairly. Jasper, it seemed, viewed her 
 | position differently from herself! 
 
MISS DUNHAM’S GOOD-SENSE. 
 
 97 
 
 “ It is true, Mabel,” he said, “ you are not 
 what is called a lady, in the common meaning of 
 the word — ” 
 
 “Not in any meaning, Jasper,” the generous 
 girl eagerly interrupted ; “ on that head I have 
 no vanities, I hope. Providence has made me 
 the daughter of a sergeant, and I am content to 
 remain in the station in which I was born.” 
 
 “But all do not remain in the stations in 
 which they were born, Mabel, for some rise above 
 them, and some fall below them. Many sergeants 
 have become officers — even generals; and why 
 may not sergeants’ daughters become officers’ 
 ladies ? ” 
 
 “ In the case of Sergeant Dunham’s daughter, 
 
 I know no better reason than the fact that no 
 officer is likely to wish to make her his wife,” 
 returned Mabel, laughing. 
 
 “ You may think so; but there are some in 
 the 55th that know better. There is certainly 
 one officer in that regiment, Mabel, who does wish 
 to make you his wife.” 
 
 Quick as the flashing lightning, the rapid 
 thoughts of Mabel Dunham glanced over the five 
 or six subalterns of the corps, who, by age and 
 inclinations, would be the tf most likely to form 
 such a wish ; and we should do injustice to her 
 habits, perhaps, were we not to say that a lively 
 sensation of pleasure rose momentarily in her 
 bosom, at the thought of being raised above a 
 station which, whatever might be her professions 
 of contentment, she felt that she had been too 
 well educated to fill with perfect satisfaction. 
 But this emotion was as transient as it was sudden, 
 for Mabel Dunham was a girl of too much pure 
 and womanly feeling, to view the marriage-tie 
 through any thing so worldly as the mere advan- 
 tages of station. The passing emotion was a 
 thrill produced by habit, while the more settled 
 opinion which remained, was the offspring of 
 nature and principles. 
 
 “ I know no officer in the 55th, or any other 
 regiment, who would be likely to do so foolish a 
 thing; nor do I think I myself would do so fool- 
 ish a thing as to marry an officer.” 
 
 “ Foolish, Mabel ! ” 
 
 “Yes, foolish, ^Jasper. You know, as well as 
 I can know, what the world would think of such 
 matters, and I should be sorry, very sorry, to find 
 that my husband ever regretted that he had so 
 far yielded to a fancy for a face or a figure, as to 
 have married the daughter of one so much his 
 inferior as a sergeant.” 
 
 “ Your husband, Mabel, will not be so likely 
 to think of the father as to think of the daughter.” 
 
 The girl was talking with spirit, though feeling 
 83 
 
 evidently entered into her part of the discourse ; 
 but she paused for near a minute after Jasper 
 had made the last observation, before she uttered 
 another word. Then she continued in a manner 
 less playful, and one critically attentive might 
 have fancied in a manner that was slightly melan- 
 choly : 
 
 “Parent and child ought so to live as not to 
 have two hearts, or two modes of feeling and 
 thinking. A common interest in all things, I 
 should think as necessary to happiness in man 
 and wife, as between the other members of the 
 same family. Most of all, ought neither the man 
 nor the woman to have any unusual cause for 
 unhappiness, the world furnishing so many of 
 itself.” 
 
 “ Am I to understand, then, Mabel, you would 
 refuse to marry an officer, merely because he was 
 an officer ? ” 
 
 “ Have you a right to ask such a question, 
 Jasper? ” said Mabel, smiling. 
 
 “No other right, than what a strong desire 
 to see you happy can give, which, after all, may 
 be very little. My anxiety has been increased 
 from happening to know that it is your father’s 
 intention to persuade you to marry Lieutenant 
 Muir.” 
 
 “ M 7 dear > dear father can entertain no notion 
 so ridiculous ; no notion so cruel } ” 
 
 “ Would it, then, be cruel to wish you the 
 wife of a quartermaster ? ” 
 
 I have told you what I think on that subject, 
 and cannot make my words stronger. Having 
 answered you so frankly, Jasper, I have a right 
 to ask how you know that my father thinks°of 
 any such thing ? ” 
 
 That he has chosen a husband for you, I 
 know from his own mouth ; for he has told me 
 this much during our frequent conversations, 
 while he has been superintending the shipment 
 of the stores : and that Mr. Muir is to offer for 
 you, I know from the officer himself, who has 
 told me as much. By putting the two things 
 together, I have come to the opinion mentioned.” 
 
 “May not my dear father, Jasper ’’—Mabel’s * 
 face glowed like fire while she spoke, though her 
 words escaped her slowly, and by a sort of in- 
 voluntary impulse— “may not my dear father 
 have been thinking of another? It does not 
 follow, from what you say, that Mr. Muir was in 
 his mind.” 
 
 “ Is it not probable, Mabel, from all that has 
 passed ? What brings the quartermaster here ? 
 
 He has never found it necessary before, to ac« 
 company the parties that have gone below : he 
 thinks of you for his wife ; and your father has 
 
THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 33 
 
 made up his own mind that you shall be so. You 
 must see, Mabel, that Mr. Muir follows you ? ” 
 Mabel made no answer. Her feminine instinct 
 had, indeed, told her that she was an object of 
 admiration with the quartermaster, though she 
 had hardly supposed to the extent that J asper be- 
 lieved : and she, too, had even gathered from the 
 discourse of her father, that he thought seriously 
 of having her disposed of in marriage ; but by no 
 process of reasoning could she ever have arrived 
 at the inference that Mr. Muir was to be the man. 
 She did not believe it now — though she was far 
 from suspecting the truth. Indeed, it was her 
 opinion that the casual remarks of her father 
 which had struck her, had proceeded from a gen- 
 eral wish to have her settled, rather than from any 
 desire to see her united to any particular individ- 
 ual. These thoughts, however, she kept secret ; 
 for self-respect and feminine reserve showed her 
 the impropriety of making them the subject of 
 discussion with her present companion. By way 
 of changing the conversation, therefore, after the 
 pause had lasted long enough to be embarrassing 
 to both parties, she said : 
 
 “Of one thing you may be certain, Jasper; 
 and that is all I wish to say on the subject: 
 Lieutenant Muir, though he were a colonel, will 
 never be the husband of Mabel Dunham. And 
 now, tell me of your voyage — when will it end ? ” 
 
 “ That is uncertain. Once afloat, we are at 
 the mercy of the winds and waves. Pathfinder 
 will tell you, that he who begins to chase the deer 
 in the morning cannot tell where he will sleep at 
 night.” 
 
 “ But we are not chasing a deer ; nor is it 
 morning ; so Pathfinder’s moral is thrown away.” 
 
 “ Although we are not chasing a deer, we are 
 after that which may be as hard to catch. I can 
 tell you no more than I have said already ; for it 
 is our duty to be close-mouthed, whether any 
 thing depends on it or not. I am afraid, how- 
 ever, I shall not keep you long enough in the 
 Scud, to show you what she can do in fair and 
 foul.” 
 
 “ I think a woman unwise who ever marries 
 a sailor,” said Mabel, abruptly, and almost in- 
 voluntarily. 
 
 “ This is a strange opinion ; why do you hold 
 it?” 
 
 “ Because a sailor’s wife is certain to have a 
 rival in his vessel. My uncle Cap, too, says that 
 a sailor should never marry.” 
 
 “ He means salt-water sailors,” returned Jas- 
 per, laughing. “ If he thinks wives not good 
 enough for those who sail on the ocean, he will 
 fancv them just suited to those who sail on the 
 
 lakes. I hope, Mabel, you do not take youl 
 opinions of us fresh-water mariners from all that 
 Master Cap says.” 
 
 “ Sail, ho ! ” exclaimed the very individual of 
 whom they were conversing — “or boat, hoi 
 would be nearer the truth.” 
 
 Jasper ran forward ; and, sure enough, a small 
 object was discernible about a hundred yards 
 ahead of the cutter, and nearly on her lee bow. 
 At the first glance, he saw it was a bark canoe ; 
 for, though the darkness prevented hues from 
 being distinguished, the eye that had got to be 
 accustomed to the night, might discern forms at 
 some little distance; and the eye which, like 
 Jasper’s, had long been familiar with things 
 aquatic, could not be at a loss in discovering the 
 outlines necessary to come to the conclusion he 
 did. 
 
 “ This may be an enemy,” the young man re- 
 marked ; “ and it may be well to overhaul him.” 
 
 “ He is paddling with all his might, lad,” ob- 
 served the Pathfinder, “ and means to cross your 
 bow r s and get to windward, when you might as 
 well chase a full-grown buck on snow-shoes ! ” 
 
 “Let her luff!” — cried Jasper, to the man 
 at the helm. “ Luff up, till she shakes — there, 
 steady, and hold all that.” 
 
 The helmsman complied, and as the Scud was 
 now dashing the water aside merrily, a minute or 
 two put the canoe so far to leeward as to render 
 escape impracticable. Jasper now sprang to the 
 helm himself, and by judicious and careful han- 
 dling, he got so near his chase that it was secured 
 by a boat-hook. On receiving an order, the two 
 persons who were in the canoe left it, and no 
 sooner had they reached the deck of the cutter, 
 than they were found to be Arrowhead and his 
 wife. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ‘ What pearl is it that rich men cannot buy, 
 
 That learning is too proud to gather up ; 
 
 But which the poor and the despised of all. 
 
 Seek and obtain, and often find unsought? 
 
 Tell me — and I will tell thee what is truth.” 
 
 Cowpeb. 
 
 The meeting with the Indian and his wife ex- 
 cited no surprise in the majority of those who 
 witnessed the occurrence ; but Mabel, and all wbc 
 knew of the manner in which this chief had been 
 separated from the party of Cap, simultaneously 
 entertained suspicions, which it was far easier te 
 feel than to follow out, by any plausible clew to 
 certainty. Pathfinder, who alone could converse 
 freely with the prisoners, for such they might 
 
ARROWHEAD’S REASONS FOR DESERTION. 
 
 99 
 
 now be considered, took Arrowhead aside, and 
 held a long conversation with him, concerning the 
 reasons of the latter for having deserted his 
 charge, and the manner in which he had been 
 since employed. 
 
 The Tuscarora met these inquiries, and he 
 gave his answers, with the stoicism of an Indian. 
 As respects the separation, his excuses were very 
 simply made, and they seemed to be sufficiently 
 plausible. When he found that the party was 
 discovered in its place of concealment, he natu- 
 rally sought his own safety, which he secured by 
 plunging into the woods, for he made no doubt 
 that all who could not effect this much, would be 
 massacred on the spot. In a word, he had run 
 away, in order to save his life. 
 
 “ This is well,” returned Pathfinder, affecting 
 to believe the other’s apologies ; “ my brother did 
 very wisely ; but his woman followed ? ” 
 
 “Do not the pale- faces’ women follow their 
 husbands? Would not Pathfinder have looked 
 back to see if one he loved was coming ? ” 
 
 This appeal was made to the guide while he 
 was in a most fortunate frame of mind to admit 
 its force ; for Mabel, and her blandishments and 
 constancy, were getting to be images familiar to 
 his thoughts. The Tuscarora, though he could 
 not trace the reason, saw that his excuse was ad- 
 mitted, and he stood, with quiet dignity, awaiting 
 the next inquiry. 
 
 “This is reasonable and nat’ral,” returned 
 Pathfinder, in English, passing from one language 
 to the other, insensibly to himself, as his feelings 
 or habits dictated— “ this is nat’ral, and may be 
 so. A woman would be likely to follow the man 
 to whom she had plighted faith, and husband and 
 wife are one flesh. Mabel, herself, would have 
 been likely to follow the sergeant, had he been 
 present, and retreated in this manner; and, no 
 doubt, no doubt, the warm-hearted girl would have 
 followed her husband ! Your words are honest, 
 Tuscarora,” changing the language to the dialect 
 of the other. “ Your words are honest, and very 
 pleasant, and just. But why has my brother 
 been so long from the fort ? his friends have 
 thought of him often, but have never seen him !” 
 
 “ follows the buck, ought not the 
 buck to follow the doe?” answered the Tusca- 
 rora, smiling, and laying a finger significantly on 
 the shoulder of his interrogator. “Arrowhead’s 
 wife followed Arrowhead ; it was right in Arrow- 
 bead to follow his wife. She lost her way, and 
 they made her cook in a strange wigwam.” 
 
 “I understand you, Tuscarora. The woman 
 fell into the hands of the Mingoes, and you kept 
 upon their trail.” 
 
 “ Pathfinder can see a reason as easily as he 
 can see the moss on the trees. It is so.” 
 
 “ And how long have you got the woman back, 
 and in what manner has it been done? ” 
 
 “ Two suns. The Dew-of- June was not long 
 in coming, when her husband whispered to her 
 the path.” 
 
 Well, well, all this seems nat’ral, and ac- 
 cording to matrimony. But, Tuscarora, how did 
 you get that canoe, and why are you paddling 
 toward the St. Lawrence instead of the garri- 
 son ? ” 
 
 “Arrowhead can tell his own from that of 
 another. This canoe is mine ; I found it on the 
 shore, near the fort.” 
 
 “ That sounds reasonable, too, for the canoe 
 does belong to the man, and an Injin would make 
 few words about taking it. Still, it is extr’ord’- 
 nary that we saw nothing of the fellow and his 
 wife, for the canoe must have left the river before 
 we did ourselves.” 
 
 This idea, which passed rapidly through the 
 mind of the guide, was now put to the Indian in 
 the shape of a question. 
 
 “Pathfinder knows that a warrior can have 
 shame. The father would have asked me for his 
 daughter, and I could not give him to her. I 
 sent the Dew-of-June for the canoe, and no one 
 spoke to the woman. A Tuscarora woman would 
 not be free in speaking to strange men.” 
 
 All this, too, was plausible, and in conformity 
 with Indian character and Indian customs. As 
 was usual, Arrowhead had received one half of 
 his compensation previously to quitting the Mo- 
 hawk ; and his refraining to demand the residue 
 was a proof of that conscientious consideration 
 of mutual rights that quite as often distinguishes 
 the morality of a savage as that of a Christian. 
 To one as upright as Pathfinder, Arrowhead had 
 conducted himself with delicacy and propriety, 
 though it would have been more in accordance 
 with his own frank nature, to have met the father, 
 and abided by the simple truth. Still, accus- 
 tomed to the ways of Indians, he saw nothing 
 out of the ordinary track of things in the course 
 the other had taken. 
 
 “ This runs like water flowing down the hill, 
 Arrowhead,” he answered, after a little reflection,’ 
 
 “ and truth obliges me to own it. It was the 
 gift of a red-skin to act in this way, though I do 
 not think ic was the gift of a pale-face. You 
 would not look upon the grief of the girl’s 
 father?” 
 
 Arrowhead made a quiet inclination of the 
 body, as if to assent. 
 
 “One thing more my brother will tell me,” 
 
100 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 continued Pathfinder, “ and there will be no 
 cloud between his wigwam and the strong-house 
 of the Yengeese. If he can blow away this bit 
 of fog his friends will look at him, as he sits by 
 his own fire, and he can look at them, as they 
 lay aside their arms, and forget that they are 
 warriors. Why was the head of Arrowhead’s 
 canoe looking toward the St. Lawrence, where 
 there are none but enemies to be found ? ” 
 
 “Why were the Pathfinder and his friends 
 looking the same way?” asked the Tuscarora, 
 calmly. “A Tuscarora may look in the same 
 direction as a Yengeese.” 
 
 “Why, to own the truth, Arrowhead, we are 
 out scouting, like ; — that is, sailin’ — in other 
 words, we are on the king’s business, and we 
 have a right to be here, though we may not have 
 a right to say why we are here.” 
 
 “ Arrowhead saw the big canoe, and he loves 
 to look on the face of Eau-douce. He was go- 
 ing toward the sun at evening, in order to seek 
 his wigwam ; but, finding that the young sailor 
 was going the other way, he turned that he 
 might look in the same direction. Eau-douce 
 and Arrowhead were together on the last trail.” 
 
 “ This may all be true, Tuscarora, and you 
 are welcome. You shall eat of our venison, and 
 then we must separate. The setting sun is behind 
 us, and both of us move quick : my brother will 
 get too far from that which he seeks, unless he 
 turns round.” 
 
 Pathfinder now returned to the others, and 
 repeated the result of his examination. He ap- 
 peared himself to believe that the account of 
 Arrowhead might be true, though he admitted 
 that caution would be prudent with one he 
 disliked ; but his auditors, Jasper excepted, 
 leemed less disposed to put faith in the explana- 
 tions. 
 
 “ This chap must be ironed at once, brother 
 Dunham,” said Cap, as soon as Pathfinder finished 
 his narration ; “ he must be turned over to the 
 master-at-arms, if there is any such officer on 
 fresh water, and a court-martial ought to be 
 ordered as soon as we reach port.” 
 
 “ I think it wisest to detain the fellow,” the 
 sergeant answered, “ but irons are unnecessary so 
 tong as he remains in the cutter. In the morn- 
 .ng the matter shall be inquired into.” 
 
 Arrowhead was now summoned and told the 
 decision. The Indian listened gravely, and made 
 no objections. On the contrary, he submitted 
 with the calm and reserved dignity with which 
 tne American aborigines are known to yield to 
 fate ; and he stood apart, an attentive but calm 
 observer of what was passing. Jasper caused 
 
 the cutter’3 sails to be filled, and the Scud re- 
 sumed her course. 
 
 It was now getting toward the hour to set 
 the watch, and when it was usual to retire for 
 the night. Most of the party went below, leav- 
 ing no one on deck but Cap, the sergeant, Jasper, 
 and two of the crew. Arrowhead and his wife 
 also remained, the former standing aloof in proud 
 reserve, and the latter exhibiting, by her attitude 
 and passiveness, the meek humility that character- 
 izes an Indian woman. 
 
 “You will find a place for your wife below, 
 Arrowhead, where my daughter will attend to her 
 wants,” said the sergeant, kindly, who was him- 
 self on the point of quitting the deck ; “ yonder 
 is a sail, where you may sleep yourself.” 
 
 “I thank my father. The Tuscaroras are 
 not poor. The woman will look for my blankets 
 in the canoe.” 
 
 “ As you wish, my friend. We think it neces- 
 sary to detain you, but not necessary to confine, 
 or to maltreat you. Send your squaw into the 
 canoe for the blankets, and you may follow her 
 yourself, and hand us up the paddles. — As there 
 may be some sleepy heads in the Scud, Eau- 
 douce,” added the sergeant, in a lower tone, “ it 
 may be well to secure the paddles.” 
 
 Jasper assented, and Arrowhead and his wife, 
 with whom resistance appeared to be out of the 
 question, silently complied with the directions. 
 A few expressions of sharp rebuke passed from 
 the Indian to his wife, while both were employed 
 in the canoe, which the latter received with sub- 
 missive quiet, immediately repairing an error she 
 had made, by laying aside the blanket she had 
 taken, and searching another that was more to 
 her tyrant’s mind. 
 
 “Come, bear a hand, Arrowhead,” said the 
 sergeant, who stood on the gunwale, overlooking 
 the movements of the two, which were proceeding 
 too slowly for the impatience of a drowsy man. 
 “ It is getting late ; and we soldiers have such a 
 thing as reveille — early to bed and early to rise.” 
 
 “ Arrowhead is coming,” was the answer, as 
 the Tuscarora stepped toward the head of his ca- 
 noe. 
 
 One blow of his keen knife severed the rope 
 which held the boat, when the cutter glanced 
 ahead, leaving the light bubble of bark, which in- 
 stantly lost its way, almost stationary. So sud- 
 denly and dexterously was this manoeuvre per- 
 formed, that the canoe was on the lee-quarter of 
 the Scud before the sergeant was aware of tha 
 artifice, and quite in her wake ere he had time to 
 announce it to his companions. 
 
 “ Hard-a-lee ! ” shouted Jasper, letting fly tho 
 
THE TUSCARORA’S ESCAPE. 
 
 101 
 
 jib-sheet with his own hands when the cutter 
 came swiftly up to the breeze with all her canvas 
 flapping, or was running into the wind’s eye, as 
 seamen term it, until the light craft wa3 a hun- 
 dred feet to windward of her former position. 
 Quick and dexterous as was this movement, and 
 ready as had been the expedient, it was not 
 quicker or more ready than that of the Tuscarora. 
 With an intelligence that denoted some famil- 
 iarity with vessels, he had seized his paddle, and 
 was already skimming the water, aided by the ef- 
 forts of his wife. The direction he took was 
 southwesterly, or on a line that led him equally 
 toward the wind and the shore, while it also kept 
 him so far aloof from the cutter as to avoid the 
 danger of the latter’s falling on board of him 
 when she filled on the other tack. Swiftly as the 
 Scud had shot into the wind, and far as she had 
 forged ahead, Jasper knew it was necessary to 
 cast her, ere she had lost all her way ; and it was 
 not two minutes from the time the helm had been 
 put down, before the lively little craft was aback 
 forward, and rapidly falling off, in order to allow 
 her sails to fill on the opposite tack. 
 
 “He will escape!” said Jasper, the instant 
 he caught a glimpse of the relative bearings of 
 the cutter and the canoe. “ The cunning knave 
 is paddling dead to windward, and the Scud can 
 never overtake him ! ” 
 
 “ You have a canoe ! ” exclaimed the sergeant, 
 manifesting the eagerness of a boy to join in the 
 pursuit ; “ let us launch it and give chase ! ” 
 
 “ ’Twill be useless. If Pathfinder had been 
 on deck there might have been a chance, but 
 there is none now. To launch the canoe would 
 have taken three or four minutes, and the time 
 lost would have been sufficient for the purposes 
 of Arrowhead.” 
 
 Both Cap and the sergeant saw the truth of 
 this, which would have been nearly self-evident 
 even to one unaccustomed to vessels. The shore 
 wa« distant less than half a mile, and the canoe 
 was already glancing into its shadows at a rate to 
 show that it would reach the land ere its pursuers 
 could probably get half the distance. The canoe, 
 itself, might have been seized, but it would have 
 been a useless prize ; for Arrowhead in the woods 
 would be more likely to reach the other shore with- 
 out detection, than if he still possessed the means 
 to venture on the lake again ; though it might 
 be, and probably would be, a greater bodily labor 
 to himself. The helm of the Scud was reluctantly 
 put up again, and the cutter wore short round on 
 ber heel, coming up to her course on the other 
 tack as if acting on instinct. All this was done 
 by Jasper in profound silence, his assistants un- 
 
 derstanding what was necessary, and lending their 
 aid in a sort of mechanical imitation. While these 
 manoeuvres were in the course of execution, Cap 
 took the sergeant by a button and led him tow- 
 ard the cabin-door, where he was out of ear-shot, 
 and began to unlock his stores of thought. 
 
 “ Harkee, brother Dunham,” he said, with an 
 ominous face, “ this is a matter that requires ma- 
 ture thought and much circumspection.” 
 
 “ The life of a soldier, brother Cap, is one of 
 constant thought and circumspection. On this 
 frontier, were we to overlook either, our scalps 
 might be taken from our heads in the first nap.” 
 
 “But I consider this capture of Arrowhead a3 
 a circumstance — and I might add his escape as 
 another. This Jasper Fresh- water must look to 
 it ! ” 
 
 “ They are both circumstances, truly, brother ; 
 but they tell different ways. If it is a circum- 
 stance against the lad that the Indian has es- 
 caped, it is a circumstance in his favor that he 
 was first taken.” 
 
 “Ay, ay, but two circumstances do not con- 
 tradict each other like two negatives. If you 
 will follow the advice of an old seaman, sergeant, 
 not a moment is to be lost in taking the steps ne- 
 cessary for the security of the vessel and all on 
 board of her. The cutter is now slipping through 
 the water at the rate of six knots, and, as the dis- 
 tances are so short on this bit of a pond, we may 
 all find ourselves in a French port before morn- 
 ing, and in a French prison before night.” 
 
 “ This may be true enough ; what would you 
 advise me to do, brother ? ” 
 
 “ In my opinion you should put this Master 
 Fresh-water under arrest on the spot, send him 
 below under the charge of a sentinel, and trans- 
 fer the command of the cutter to me. All this 
 you have power to perform, the craft belonging 
 to the army, and you being the commanding offi- 
 cer of the troops present.” 
 
 Sergeant Dunham deliberated more than an 
 hour on the propriety of this proposal; for, 
 though sufficiently prompt when his mind was 
 really made up, he was habitually thoughtful and 
 wary. The habit of superintending the persona! 
 police of the garrison had made him acquainted 
 with character, and he had long been disposed to 
 think well of Jasper. Still, that subtle poison, 
 suspicion, had entered his soul, and so much were 
 the artifices and intrigues of the French dreaded, 
 that, especially warned as he had been by his 
 commander, it is not to be wondered the recollec- 
 tion of years of good conduct should vanish under 
 the influence of a distrust so keen and seemingly 
 so plausible. In this embarrassment the sergeant 
 
102 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 consulted tlie quartermaster, whose opinion, as 
 his superior, he felt bound to respect, though, at 
 the moment, independent of his control. It is an 
 unfortunate occurrence, for one who is in a di- 
 lemma, to ask advice of another who is desirous 
 of standing well in his favor, the party consulted 
 being almost certain to try to think in the manner 
 which will be the most agreeable to the party con- 
 sulting. In the present instance it was equally 
 unfortunate, as respects a candid consideration 
 of the subject, that Cap, instead of the sergeant 
 himself, made the statement of the case ; for the 
 earnest old sailor was not backward in letting his 
 listener perceive to which side he was desirous 
 that the quartermaster should lean. Lieutenant 
 Muir was much too polite to offend the uncle and 
 father of the woman he hoped and expected to 
 win, had he really thought the case admitted of 
 doubt; but, in the manner in which the facts 
 were submitted to him, he was seriously inclined 
 to think that it would be well to put the control 
 of the Scud, temporarily, into the management of 
 Cap, as a precaution against treachery. This 
 opinion then decided the sergeant, who forthwith 
 set about the execution of the necessary meas- 
 ures. 
 
 Without entering into any explanations, Ser- 
 geant Dunham simply informed Jasper that he 
 felt it to be his duty to deprive him, temporarily, 
 ®f the command of the cutter, and to confer it on 
 his own brother-in-law. A natural and involun- 
 tary burst of surprise which escaped the young 
 man, was met by a quiet remark reminding him 
 that military service was often of a nature that re- 
 quired concealment, and a declaration that the 
 present duty was of such a character that this 
 particular arrangement had become indispensable. 
 Although Jasper’s astonishment remained undi- 
 minished — the sergeant cautiously abstaining from 
 making any allusion to his suspicions — the young 
 man was accustomed to obey with military sub- 
 mission ; and he quietly • acquiesced — with his 
 own mouth directing the little crew to receive 
 their further orders from Cap until another change 
 should be effected. When, however, he was told 
 the case required that not only he himself, but 
 his principal assistant, who, on account of his long 
 acquaintance with the lake, was usually termed 
 the pilot, were to remain below, there was an 
 alteration in his countenance and manner that de- 
 noted deep mortification, though it was so well 
 mastered as to leave even the distrustful Cap in 
 doubt as to its meaning. As a matter of course, 
 however, when distrust exists, it was not long be- 
 fore the worst construction was put upon it. 
 
 As soon as Jasper and the pilot were below, 
 
 the sentinel at the hatch received private orders 
 to pay particular attention to both ; to allow nei- 
 ther to come on deck again without giving in- 
 stant notice to the person who might then be in 
 charge of the cutter, and to insist on his return 
 below as soon as possible. This precaution, how- 
 ever, was uncalled for, Jasper and his assistant 
 both throwing themselves silently on their pal- 
 lets, which neither quitted again that night. 
 
 “ And now, sergeant,” said Cap, as soon as 
 he found himself master of the deck, “ you will 
 just have the goodness to give me the courses 
 and distances, that I may see the boat keeps her 
 head the right way.” 
 
 “ I know nothing of either, brother Cap,” re- 
 turned Dunham, not a little embarrassed at the 
 question. “We must make the best of our way 
 to the station among the Thousand Islands, 
 ‘ where we shall land, relieve the party that in al- 
 ready out, and get information for our future 
 government.’ That’s it, nearly word for word, 
 as it stands in the written orders.” 
 
 “ But you can muster a chart — something in 
 the way of bearings and distances, that I may see 
 the road ? ” 
 
 “ I do not think Jasper ever had any thing of 
 the sort to go by.” 
 
 “ No chart, Sergeant Dunham ! ” 
 
 “Not a scrap of a pen, even. Our sailors 
 navigate this lake without any aid from maps.” 
 
 “ The devil they do ! — They must be regular 
 Yahoos. And do you suppose, Sergeant Dun- 
 ham, that I can find one island out of a thousand 
 without knowing its name or its position — with- 
 out even a course or a distance ? ” 
 
 “ As for the name , brother Cap, you need not 
 be particular, for not one of the whole thousand 
 has a name, and so a mistake can never be made 
 on that score. As for the position, never having 
 been there myself, I can tell you nothing about 
 it, nor do I think its position of any particular 
 consequence, provided we find the spot. Per- 
 haps one of the hands on deck can tell us the 
 way.” 
 
 “Hold on, sergeant — hold on a moment, if 
 you please, Sergeant Dunham. If I am to com- 
 mand this craft, it must be done, if you please, 
 without holding any councils of war with the 
 cook and cabin-boy. A ship-master is a ship- 
 master, and he must have an opinion of bis own, 
 even if it be a wrong one. I suppose you know 
 service well enough to understand that it is bet- 
 ter in a commander to go wrong, than to go no- 
 where. At all events, the lord high admiral 
 couldn’t command a yawl with dignity, if he con- 
 sulted the coxswain every time he wished to go 
 
THE CUTTER’S NEW CAPTAIN. 
 
 103 
 
 ashore. No — sir — if I sink, I sink ; but, d e, 
 
 I’ll go down ship-shape and with dignity.” 
 
 “ But, brother Cap, I have no wish to go down 
 anywhere, unless it be to the station among the 
 Thousand Islands, whither we are bound.” 
 
 “Well, well, sergeant, rather than ask advice, 
 that is, direct, barefaced advice, of a fore-mast 
 hand, or any other than a quarter-deck officer, I 
 would go round to the whole thousand and ex- 
 amine them one by one, until we got to the right 
 haven. But, there is such a thing as coming at 
 an opinion without manifesting ignorance, and I 
 will manage to rouse all there is, out of these 
 hands, and make them think, all the while, that 
 I am cramming them with my own experience. 
 We are sometimes obliged to use the glass at sea 
 when there is nothing in sight, or to heave the 
 'ead long before we strike soundings. I suppose 
 you know in the army, sergeant, that the next 
 thing to knowing that which is desirable, is to 
 seem to know all about it. When a youngster, 
 I sailed two v’y’ges with a man who navigated 
 his ship pretty much by the latter sort of infor- 
 mation, which sometimes answers.” 
 
 “ I know we are steering in the right direc- 
 tion, at present,” returned the sergeant, “ but in 
 the course of a few hours we shall be up with a 
 headland, where we must feel our way with more 
 caution.” 
 
 “ Leave me to pump the man at the wheel, 
 brother, and you shall see that I will make him 
 suck, in a very few minutes.” 
 
 Cap and the sergeant now walked aft, until 
 they stood by the sailor who was at the helm, 
 Cap maintaining an air of security and tranquilli- 
 ty, like one who was entirely confident of his own 
 powers. 
 
 “ This is a wholesome air, my lad,” Cap ob- 
 served, as it might be incidentally, and in the 
 manner that a superior on board a vessel some- 
 times condescends to use to a favored inferior. 
 
 “ Of course you have it in this fashion, off the 
 land, every night ? ” 
 
 “ At this season of the year, sir,” the man 
 returned, touching his hat, out of respect to his 
 new commander and Sergeant Dunham’s connec- 
 tion. 
 
 “ The same thing, I take it, among the Thou- 
 sand Islands ? The wind will stand of course, 
 though we shall then have land on every side of 
 
 us.” 
 
 “ When we get farther east, sir, the wind will 
 probably shift, for there can then be no particular 
 land-breeze.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay — so much for your fresh water ! It 
 has always some trick that is opposed to Nature. 
 
 Now, down among the West-India Islands, one 
 is just as certain of having a land-breeze as he 
 is of having a sea-breeze. In that respect there 
 is no difference, though it’s quite in rule it should 
 be different up here, on this bit of fresh w ater. 
 Of course, my lad, you know all about these said 
 Thousand Islands ? ” 
 
 “ Lord» bless you, Master Cap, nobody knows 
 all about them, or any thing about them. They 
 are a puzzle to the oldest sailor on the lake, and 
 we don’t pretend to know even their names. For 
 that matter, most of them have no more names 
 than a child that dies before it is christened.” 
 
 “Are you a Roman Catholic?” demanded 
 the sergeant, sharply. 
 
 “ No, sir, nor any thing else. I’m a general- 
 izer about religion, never troubling that which 
 don’t trouble me.” 
 
 “ Hum ! a generalizer ; that is, no doubt, one 
 of the new sects that afflict the country ! ” mut- 
 tered Mr. Dunham, whose grandfather had been 
 a New Jersey Quaker, his father a Presbyterian, 
 and who had joined the Church of England him- 
 self, after he entered the army. 
 
 “ I take it, John,” resumed Cap — “ your name 
 is Jack, I believe ? ” 
 
 “ No, sir ; I am called Robert.” 
 
 “ Ay, Robert — it’s very much the same thing 
 — Ja£k or Bob — w r e use the two indifferently. I 
 say, Bob, it’s good holding-ground, is it, down at 
 this same station for which we are bound ? ” 
 
 “ Bless you, sir, I know no more about it than 
 one of the Mohawks, or a solder of the 55th.” 
 
 “ Did you never anchor there ? ” 
 
 “ Never, sir. Master Eau-douce always makes 
 fast to the shore.” 
 
 “ But in running in for the town, you kept the 
 lead going, out of question, and must have tal- 
 lowed as usual? ” 
 
 “ Tallow ! and town, too ! Bless your heart, 
 Master Cap, there is no more town than there is 
 on your chin, and not half as much tallow.” 
 
 The sergeant smiled grimly, but his brother- 
 in-law did not detect this proof of facetiousness. 
 
 “ No church-tower, nor light, nor fort, ha ! 
 There is a garrison, as you call it hereaway, at 
 least.” 
 
 “Ask Sergeant Dunham, sir, if you wish to 
 know that ! All the garrison is on board the 
 Scud.” 
 
 “ But, in running in, Bob, which of the chan- 
 nels do you think the best, the one you went last, 
 or — or — or — ay, or the other? ” 
 
 “ I can’t say, sir. I know nothing of either.” 
 
 “ You didn’t go to sleep, fellow, at the wheel, 
 did you ? ” 
 
104 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ Not at the wheel, sir, but down in the fore- 
 peak, in my berth. Eau-douce sent- us below, 
 so’gers and all, with the exception of the pilot, 
 and we know no more of the road than if we had 
 never been over it. This he has always done, in 
 going in and coming out ; and, for the life of me, 
 
 I could tell you nothing of the channel or of the 
 course, after we are once fairly up with the isl- 
 ands. No one knows any thing of either, but 
 Jasper and the pilot.” 
 
 “ Here is a circumstance for you, sergeant ! ” 
 said Cap, leading his brother-in-law a little aside 
 — “ there is no one on board to pump, for they 
 all suck from ignorance, at the first stroke of the 
 brake. How the devil am I to find the way to 
 this station ? ” 
 
 “ Sure enough, brother Cap ; your question is 
 more easily put than answered. Is there no such 
 thing as figuring it out by navigation ? I thought 
 you salt-water mariners were able to do as small 
 a thing as that ! I have often read of their dis- 
 covering islands, surely.” 
 
 “ That you have, brother — that you have ; and 
 this discovery would be the greatest of them all, 
 for it would not only be discovering one island, 
 but one island out of a thousand. I might make 
 out to pick up a single needle on this deck, old 
 as I am, but I much doubt if I could pick one out 
 of a haystack.” 
 
 « Still, the sailors of the lake have a method of 
 finding the places they wish to go to.” 
 
 “If I have understood you, sergeant Dun- 
 ham, this station, or block-house, is particularly 
 private ? ” 
 
 “It is, indeed; the utmost care having been 
 taken to prevent a knowledge of -its position from 
 reaching the enemy.” 
 
 “ And you expect me, a stranger on your lake, 
 to find this place without chart, course, distance, 
 
 latitude, longitude, or soundings— ay, d e, or 
 
 tallow ! Allow me to ask if you think a mari- 
 ner runs by his nose, like one of Pathfinder’s 
 
 hounds ? ” 
 
 “ Well, brother, you may yet leam something 
 by questioning the young man at the helm ; I can 
 hardly think that he is as ignorant as he pretends 
 to be.” 
 
 “ Hum — this looks like another circumstance ! 
 For that matter, the case is getting to be so full 
 of circumstances that one hardly knows how to 
 foot up the evidence. But we will soon see how 
 much the lad knows.” 
 
 Cap and the sergeant now returned to their 
 station near the helm, and the former renewed 
 his inquiries. 
 
 “ Do you happen to know what may be the 
 
 latitude and longitude of this said island, my lad ? w 
 he asked. 
 
 “The what, sir ? ” 
 
 “ Why the latitude or longitude ; one or both ; 
 I’m not particular which, as I merely inquire in 
 order to see how they bring up young men on 
 this bit of fresh water.” 
 
 “ I’m not particular about either, myself, sir, 
 and so I do not happen to know what you mean.” 
 
 “ Not what I mean ! — You know what latitude 
 is ? ’ ! 
 
 “ Not I, sir,” returned the man, hesitating, 
 “ though I believe it is French for the upper 
 lakes.” 
 
 “Whe-e-e-w!” whistled Cap, drawing out 
 his breath, like the broken stop of an organ; 
 “latitude, French for upper lakes! Harkee, 
 young man ; do you know what longitude 
 means ? ” 
 
 “ I believe I do, sir — that is five feet six, the 
 regulation height for soldiers in the king’s ser 
 vice.” 
 
 “ There’s the longitude found out for you, ser- 
 geant, in the rattling of a brace-block! You 
 have some notion about a degree, and minutes, 
 and seconds, I hope ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, sir; degree means my betters, and min 
 utes and seconds are for the short or long log- 
 lines. We all know these things as well as the 
 salt-water people.” 
 
 “ D e, brother Dunham, if I think even 
 
 Faith can get along on this lake, much as they say 
 it can do with mountains. I’m sure character is 
 in no security. — Well, my lad, you understand the 
 azimuth, and measuring distances, and how to box 
 the compass.” 
 
 “ As for the first, sir, I can’t say I do. The 
 distances we all know, as we measure them from 
 point to point; and as for boxing the compass, I 
 will turn my back to no admiral in his ma- 
 jesty^ fleet. Nothe-nothe and by east, nothe- 
 nothe-east, nothe-east and nothe, nothe-east ; 
 nothe-east and by east, east-nothe-east, east-andr 
 by-nothe, east — ” 
 
 “ That will do— that will do. You’ll bring 
 about a shift of wind, if you go on in this man, 
 ner. — I see very plainly, sergeant,” walking away 
 again, and dropping his voice, “ we’ve nothing to 
 hope for from that chap. I’ll stand on two hours 
 longer on this tack, when we’ll he&ve-to, and get 
 the soundings ; after which we will be governed 
 by circumstances.” 
 
 To this the sergeant, who, to coin a word, 
 was very much of an idiosyncratist, made no ob- 
 jections ; and, as the wind grew lighter, as usual 
 with the advance of night, and there were no 
 
A CHANGE OF WEATHER. 
 
 105 
 
 mediate obstacles to the navigation, he made a 
 bed of a sail,' on deck, and was soon lost in the 
 sound sleep of a soldier. Cap continued to walk 
 the deck, for he was one whose iron frame set 
 fatigue at defiance, and not once that night did 
 he close his eye3. 
 
 It was broad daylight when Sergeant Dunham 
 twoke, and the exclamation of surprise that es- 
 caped him, as he rose to his feet, and began to 
 look about him, was stronger than it was usual 
 for one so drilled to suffer to be heard. He found 
 the weather entirely changed ; the view bounded 
 oy driving mist, that limited the visible horizon 
 to a circle of about a mile in diameter, the lake 
 raging and covered with foam, and the Scud ly- 
 ing-to. A brief conversation with his brother-in- 
 law let him into the secrets of all these sudden 
 changes. 
 
 According to the account of Master Cap, the 
 wind had died away to a calm about midnight, or 
 just as he was thinking of heaving-to, to sound, 
 for islands ahead were beginning to be seen. At 
 one a. m. it began to blow from the northeast, 
 accompanied by a drizzle, and he stood off to the 
 northward and Westward, knowing that the coast 
 of New York lay in the opposite direction. At 
 half-past one, he stowed the stay-sail, reefed the 
 mainsail, and took the bonnet off the jib. At 
 two he was compelled to get a second reef aft ; 
 and by half-past two he had put a balance reef in 
 the sail, and was lying-to. 
 
 “ I can’t say but the boat behaves well, ser- 
 geant,” the old sailor added ; “ but it blows forty- 
 two pounders ! I had no idee there were any 
 such currents of air up here on this bit of fresh 
 water, though I care not the knotting of a yarn 
 for it, as your lake has now somewhat of a natu- 
 ral look, and — ” spitting from his mouth, with 
 distaste, a dash of the spray that had just wetted 
 
 his face, “ and if this d d water had a savor 
 
 of salt about it, one might be comfortable.” 
 
 “ How long have you been heading in this di- 
 rection, brother Cap ? ” inquired the prudent sol- 
 dier ; “ and at what rate may we be going through 
 the water ? ” 
 
 “ Why two or three hours, mayhap, and she 
 went like a horse for the first pair of them. Oh ! 
 we’ve a fine offing; now, for, to own the truth, 
 -ittle relishing the neighborhood of them said 
 islands, although they are to windward, I took 
 the helm myself, and run her off free, for some 
 league or two. We are well to leeward of them, 
 I’ll engage. I say to leeward, for, though one 
 might wish to be well to windward of one island, 
 or even half a dozen, when it comes to a thou- 
 sand, the better way is to give it up at once, and 
 
 to slide down under their lee as fast as possible 
 No — no — there they are, up yonder in the drizzle 
 — and there they may stay, for any thing Charles 
 Cap cares.” 
 
 “ As the north shore lies only some five or six 
 leagues from us, brother, and I know there is a 
 large bay in that quarter, might it not be well to 
 consult some of the crew concerning our position, 
 if indeed we do not call up Jasper Eau-douce, and 
 tell him to carry us back to Oswego ? It is quite 
 impossible we should ever reach the station with 
 this wind directly in our teeth.” 
 
 “ There are several serious professional rea- 
 sons, sergeant, against all your propositions. In 
 the first place, an admission of ignorance on the 
 part of a commander would destroy discipline. — 
 No matter, brother, I understand your shake of 
 the head, but nothing capsizes discipline so much, 
 as to confess ignorance. I once knew a master 
 of a vessel who went a week on a wrong course, 
 rather than allow he had made a mistake ; and it 
 was surprising how much he rose in the opinions 
 of his people, just because they could not under- 
 stand him.” 
 
 “ That may do on salt water, brother Cap ; 
 but it will hardly do on fresh. Rather than 
 wreck my command on the Canada shore, I shall 
 fedl it my duty to take Jasper out of arrest.” 
 
 “ And make a haven in Frontenac ! No, ser 
 geant, the Scud is in good hands, and will now 
 learn something of seamanship. AVe have a fine 
 offing, and no one but a madman would think of 
 going upon a coast in a gale like this. I shall 
 ware every watch, and then we shall be safe 
 against all dangers but those of the drift, which, 
 in a light, low craft like this, without top-hamper, 
 will be next to nothing. Leave it all to me, ser- 
 geant, and I pledge you the character of Charles 
 Cap, that it will all go well.” 
 
 Sergeant Dunham Was fain to yield. He had 
 great confidence in his connection’s professional 
 skill, and hoped that he would take such care of 
 the cutter as would amply justify his good opin- 
 ion. On the other hand, as distrust, like love, 
 grows by what it feeds on, he entertained so much 
 apprehension of treachery, that he was quite will- 
 ing any one but Jasper should, just then, have 
 the control of the fate of the whole party. Truth, 
 moreover, compels us to admit another motive. 
 The particular duty on which he was now sent 
 should have been confided to a commissioned offi- 
 cer, of right ; and Major Duncan had excited a 
 good deal of discontent among the subalterns of 
 the garrison, by having confided it to one of the 
 sergeant’s humble station. To return without 
 having even reached the point of destination, 
 
106 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 therefore, the latter felt would be a failure from 
 which he was not likely soon to recover; and 
 the measure would, at once, be the means of plac- 
 ing a superior in his shoes. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 “ Thou glorious mirror where the Almighty’s form 
 Glasses itself in tempests— in all time, 
 
 Calm or convulsed — in breeze, or gale, or storm, 
 
 Icing the pole, or in the torrid clime 
 
 Dark heaving — boundless, endless, and sublime — 
 
 The image of Eternity ; the throne 
 Of the Invisible ; even from out thy slime 
 The monsters of the deep are made ; each zone 
 Obeys thee ; thou goest forth, dread, fathomless, alone.” 
 
 Bybon. 
 
 As the day advanced, that portion of the in- 
 mates of the vessel which had the liberty of doing 
 so, appeared on deck. As yet the sea was not 
 very high, from which it was inferred that the 
 cutter was still under the lee of the islands ; but 
 it was apparent to all who understood the lake, 
 that they were about to experience one of the 
 heavy autumnal gales of that region. Land was 
 nowhere visible ; and the horizon, on every side, 
 exhibited that gloomy void which lends to all 
 views on vast bodies of water the sublimity of 
 mystery. The swells, or, as landsmen term them, 
 the waves, were short and curling, breaking of ne- 
 cessity sooner than the longer seas of the ocean ; 
 while the element itself, instead of presenting 
 that beautiful hue which rivals the deep tint of 
 the southern sky, looked green and angry, though 
 wanting in the lustre that is derived from the 
 rays of the sun. 
 
 The soldiers were soon satisfied with the pros- 
 pect, and one by one they disappeared, until none 
 were left on deck but the crew, the sergeant, 
 Cap, Pathfinder, the quartermaster, and Mabel. 
 There was a shade on the brow of the latter, who 
 had been made acquainted with the real state of 
 things, and who had fruitlessly ventured an ap- 
 peal in favor of Jasper’s restoration to the com- 
 mand. A night’s rest and a night’s reflection ap- 
 peared also to have confirmed the Pathfinder in 
 his opinion of the young man’s innocence, and 
 he, too, had made a warm appeal in behalf of his 
 friend, though with the same want of success. 
 
 Several hours passed away, the wind gradually 
 getting to be heavier, and the sea rising, until the 
 motion of the cutter compelled Mabel and the 
 quartermaster to retreat also. Cap wore several 
 times ; and it was now evident that the Scud was 
 drifting into the broader and deeper parts of the 
 
 lake, the seas raging down upon her in a way 
 that none but a vessel of superior mould and 
 build could have long ridden and withstood. All 
 this, however, gave Cap no uneasiness ; but like 
 the hunter that pricks his ears at the sound of the 
 horn, or the war-horse that paws and snorts with 
 pleasure at the roll of the drum, the whole scene 
 awakened all that was man within him ; and in- 
 stead of the captious, supercilious, and dogmatic 
 critic quarrelling with trifles, and exaggerating 
 immaterial things, he began to exhibit the qualities 
 of the hardy and experienced seamen that he 
 truly was. The hands soon imbibed a respect 
 for his skill ; and though they wondered at the 
 disappearance of their old commander and the 
 pilot for which no reason had been publicly given, 
 they soon yielded an implicit and cheerful obedi- 
 ence to the new one. 
 
 “This bit of fresh water, after all, brother 
 Dunham, has some spirit, I find,” cried Cap, 
 about noon, rubbing his hands in pure satisfac- 
 tion at finding himself once more wrestling with 
 the elements. “ The wind seems to be an honest, 
 old-fashioned gale, and the seas have a fanciful 
 resemblance to those of the Gulf Stream. I like 
 this, sergeant, I like this ; and shall get to respect 
 your lake if it hold out twenty-four hours longer 
 in the fashion in which it has begun.” 
 
 “Land, ho!” shouted the man who was 
 stationed on the forecastle. 
 
 Cap hurried forward ; and there, sure enough, 
 the land was visible through the drizzle, at the 
 distance of about half a mile, the cutter heading 
 directly toward it. The first impulse of the old 
 seaman was to give an order to “ stand by, to 
 ware off-shore;” but the cool-headed soldier 
 restrained him. 
 
 “By going a little nearer,” said the sergeant, 
 “ some of us may recognize the place. Most of 
 us know the American shore, in this part of the 
 lake; and it will be something gained to learn 
 our position.” 
 
 “Very true — very true; if, indeed, there is 
 any chance of that, we will hold on. What is 
 this off here, a little on our weather-bow ? It 
 looks like a low headland.” 
 
 “The garrison, by Jove!” exclaimed the 
 other, whose trained eye sooner recognized the 
 military outlines than the less-instructed senses 
 of his connection. 
 
 The sergeant was not mistaken. There was 
 the fort, sure enough, though it looked dim and 
 indistinct through the fine rain, as if it were seen 
 in the dusk of evening, or the haze of morning 
 The low, sodded, and verdant ramparts, the som 
 bre palisades, now darker than ever with water, 
 
MASTER CAP IN A GALE. 
 
 107 
 
 the roof of a house or two, the tall, solitary flag- 
 staff, with its halyards blown steadily out, into a 
 curve that appeared traced in immovable lines in 
 the air, were all soon to be seen, though no sign 
 of animated life could be discovered. Even the 
 sentinel was housed ; and, at first, it was believed 
 that no eye would detect the presence of their 
 own vessel. But the unceasing vigilance of a 
 border garrison did not slumber. One of the 
 lookouts probably made the interesting discov- 
 ery ; a man or two were seen on some elevated 
 stands, and then the entire ramparts, next the 
 lake, were dotted with human beings. 
 
 The whole scene was one in which sublimity 
 was singularly relieved by the picturesque. The 
 raging of the tempest had a character of duration 
 that rendered it easy to imagine it might be a 
 permanent feature of the spot. The roar of the 
 wind was without intermission, and the raging 
 water answered to its dull but grand strains, 
 with hissing spray, a menacing wash, and sullen 
 surges. The drizzle made a medium for the eye 
 which closely resembled that of a thin mist, soft- 
 ening and rendering mysterious the images it 
 revealed, while the genial feeling that is apt to 
 accompany a gale of wind on water contributed 
 to aid the milder influences of the moment. The 
 dark, interminable forest hove up out of the 
 obscurity, grand, sombre, and impressive ; while 
 the solitary, peculiar, and picturesque glimpses 
 of life that were caught in and about the fort, 
 formed a refuge for the eye to retreat to, when 
 oppressed with the more imposing objects of 
 Nature. 
 
 “ They see us,” said the sergeant, “ and think 
 we have returned on account of the gale, and 
 have fallen to leeward of the port. Yes, there is 
 Major Duncan himself, on the northeastern bas. 
 tion; I know him by his height, and by the 
 officers around him ! ” 
 
 “Sergeant, it would be worth standing a little 
 jeering, if we could fetch into the river, and 
 come safely to an anchor ! In that case, too, we 
 might land this Master Oh !-the-deuce, and purify 
 the boat.” 
 
 “It would indeed ; but poor a sailor as I am, 
 
 I well know it cannot be done. Nothing that 
 6ails the lake can turn to windward against this 
 gale ; and there is no anchorage outside, in 
 weather like this.” 
 
 “ I know it — I see it — sergeant, and pleasant 
 as is that sight to you landsmen, we must leave 
 it. For myself, I am never as happy, in heavy 
 weather, as when I am certain that the land is 
 **ehind me.” 
 
 The Scud had now forged so near in, that it 
 
 became indispensable to lay her head off-shore 
 again, and the necessary orders were given. The 
 storm-staysail was set forward, the gaff lowered, 
 the helm put up, and the light craft, that seemed 
 to sport with the elements like a duck, fell off a 
 little, drew ahead swiftly, obeyed her rudder, and 
 was soon flying away on the top of the surges, 
 dead before the gale. While making this rapid 
 flight, though the land still remained in view on 
 her larboard beam, the fort, and the groups of 
 anxious spectators on its rampart, were swallowed 
 up in the mist. Then followed the evolutions 
 necessary to bring the head of the cutter up to 
 the wind, when she again began to wallow her 
 weary way toward the north shore. 
 
 Hours now passed before any further change 
 was made, the wind increasing in force, until even 
 the dogmatical Cap fairly admitted it was blow- 
 ing a thorough gale of wind. About sunset the 
 Scud wore again, to keep her off the north shore 
 during the hours of darkness ; and at midnight 
 her temporary master, who, by questioning the 
 crew in an indirect manner, had obtained some 
 general knowledge of the size and shape of the 
 lake, believed himself to be about midway be- 
 
 added that Cap, by this time, began to feel a 
 respect for fresh water, that twenty-four hours 
 earlier he would have derided as impossible. 
 Just as the night turned, the fury of the wind 
 became so great that he found it impossible to 
 bear up against it, the water falling on the deck 
 of the little craft in such masses as to cause her 
 to shake to the centre, and, though a vessel of 
 singularly lively qualities, to threaten to bury her 
 beneath its weight. The people of the Scud 
 averred that never before had they been out in 
 such a tempest, which was true ; for, possessing 
 a perfect knowledge of all the rivers and head- 
 lands and havens, Jasper would have carried the 
 cutter in-shore, long ere this, and placed her in 
 safety, in some secure anchorage. But Cap still 
 disdained to consult the young master, who con- 
 tinued below, determining to act like a mariner 
 of the broad ocean. 
 
 It was one in the morning when the storm- 
 staysail was again got on the Scud, the head of 
 the mainsail lowered, and the cutter put before 
 the wind. Although the canvas now exposed 
 was merely a rag in surface, the little craft nobly 
 justified the use of the name she bore. For 
 eight hours did she scud, in truth ; and it was 
 almost with the velocity of the gulls that wheeled 
 wildly over her in the tempest, apparently afraid 
 to alight in the boiling caldron of the lake. The 
 
108 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 dawn of day brought littie enange ; for no other 
 horizon became visible than the narrow circle of 
 drizzling sky and water already described, in 
 which it seemed as if the elements were rioting 
 in chaotic confusion. During this time the crew 
 and passengers of the cutter were of necessity 
 passive. Jasper and the pilot remained below ; 
 but the motion of the vessel having become easier, 
 nearly all the rest were on deck. The morning 
 meal had been taken in silence, and eye met eye 
 as if their owners asked each other, in dumb 
 show, what was to be the end of this strife in the 
 elements. Cap, however, was perfectly composed, 
 and his face brightened, his step grew firmer, and 
 his whole air more assured as the storm increased, 
 making larger demands on his professional skill 
 and personal spirit. He stood on the forecastle, 
 his arms crossed, balancing his body with a 
 seaman’s instinct, while his eyes watched the caps 
 of the seas as they broke and glanced past the 
 reeling cutter, itself in such swift motion as if 
 they were the scud flying athwart the sky. At 
 this sublime instant one of the hands gave the 
 unexpected cry of “ a sail ! ” 
 
 There was so much of the wild and solitary 
 character of the wilderness about Ontario that one 
 scarcely expected to meet with a vessel on its wa- 
 ters. The Scud herself, to those who were in her, 
 resembled a man threading the forest alone, and 
 the meeting was like that of two solitary hunters 
 beneath the broad canopy of leaves that then cov- 
 ered so many millions of acres on the continent 
 of America. The peculiar state of the weather 
 served to increase the romantic, almost super- 
 natural, appearance of the passage. Cap alone 
 regarded it with practised eyes, and even he felt 
 his iron nerves thrill under the sensations that 
 were awakened by the wild features of the scene. 
 
 The strange vessel was about two cables’ length 
 ahead of the Scud, standing by the wind athwart 
 her bows, and steering a course to render it prob- 
 able that the latter would pass within a few yards 
 of her. She was a full-rigged ship ; and, seen 
 through the misty medium of the tempest, the 
 most experienced eye could detect no imperfec- 
 tion in her gear or construction. The only can- 
 vas she had set was a close-reefed main-top-sail 
 and two small storm-staysails, one forward and 
 the other aft. Still, the power of the wind pressed 
 so hard upon her as to bear her down nearly to 
 her beam-ends, whenever the hull was not righted 
 by the buoyancy of some wave under her lee. 
 Her spars were all in their places, and by her 
 motion through the water, which might have 
 equalled four knots in the hour, it was apparent 
 that she steered a little free. 
 
 “The fellow must know his position \*ell, n 
 said Cap, as the cutter flew down toward the ship 
 with a velocity almost equalling that of the gale, 
 “ for he is standing boldly to the southward, where 
 he expects to find anchorage or a haven. No 
 man in his senses would run off free in that fash- 
 ion, that was not driven to scudding like ourselves, 
 who did not perfectly understand where he was 
 going.” 
 
 “We have made an awful run, captain,” re- 
 turned the man to whom this remark had been 
 addressed. “ That is the French king’s ship, Lee* 
 my-calm (le Montcalm), and she is standing in 
 for the Niagara, where her owner has a garrison 
 and a port. We’ve made an awful run of it ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, bad luck to him ! Frenchman-like, he 
 skulks into port the moment he sees an English 
 bottom.” 
 
 “ It might be well for us if we could follow 
 him,” returned the man, shaking his head de- 
 spondingly, “ for we are getting into the end of 
 a bay up here at the head of the lake, and it is 
 uncertain whether we ever get out of it again ! ” 
 
 “ Poh ! man, poh ! — W e have plenty of sea- 
 room, and a good English hull beneath us. We 
 are no Johnny Crapauds to hide ourselves be- 
 hind a point or a fort, on aocount of a puff of 
 wind. Mind your helm, sir ! ” 
 
 The order was given on account of the men- 
 acing appearance of the approaching passage. 
 The Scud was now heading directly for the fore- 
 foot of the Frenchman ; and, the distance between 
 the two vessels having diminished to a hundred 
 yards, it was momentarily questionable if there 
 was room to pass. 
 
 “ Port, sir — port ! ” shouted Cap. “ Port your 
 helm and pass astern ! ” 
 
 The crew of the Frenchman were seen assem- 
 bling to windward, and a few muskets were point- 
 ed, as if to order the people of the Scud to keep 
 off. Gesticulations were observed, but the sea 
 was too wild and menacing to admit of the ordi- 
 nary expedients of war. The water was dripping 
 from the muzzles of two or three light guns on 
 board the ship, but no one thought of loosening 
 them for service in such a tempest. Her black 
 sides, as they emerged from the wave, glistened 
 and seemed to frown, but the wind howled 
 through her rigging, whistling the thousand notes 
 of a ship ; and the hails and cries that escape a 
 Frenchman with so much readiness, were inau- 
 dible. 
 
 “Let him halloo himself hoarse!” growled 
 Cap. “ This is no weather to whisper secrets in 
 — Port, sir, port ! ” 
 
 The man at the helm obeyed, and the nen 
 
PASSING A FRENCH SHIP. 
 
 109 
 
 scud oi' the sea drove the Scud down upon the 
 quarter of the ship, so near her that the old mari- 
 ner himself recoiled a step, in a vague expectation 
 that, at the next surge ahead, she would drive 
 bows-foremost into the planks of the other ves- 
 sel. But this was not to be. Rising from the 
 crouching posture she had taken, like a panther 
 about to leap, the cutter dashed onward, and, at 
 the next instant, she was glancing past the stern 
 of her enemy, just clearing the end of her spank- 
 er-boom with her own lower yard. 
 
 The young Frenchman who commanded the 
 Montcalm leaped on the taffrail, and with that 
 high-toned courtesy which relieves the worst acts 
 of his countrymen, he raised his cap, and smiled 
 a salutation as the Scud shot past. There were 
 bonhomie and good taste in this act of courtesy, 
 when circumstances allowed of no other commu- 
 nications ; but they were lost on Cap, who, with 
 an instinct quite as true to his race, shook his 
 fist menacingly, and muttered to himself : 
 
 “ Ay — ay— it’s d d lucky for you I’ve no 
 
 armament on board here, or I’d send you in to 
 get new cabin-windows fitted ! — Sergeant, he’s a 
 humbug.” 
 
 “ ’Twas civil, brother Cap,” returned the 
 other, lowering his hand from the military salute 
 which his pride as a soldier had induced him to 
 return — “ ’twas civil, and that’s as much as you 
 can expect from a Frenchman. What he really 
 meant by it, no one can say.” 
 
 “ He is not heading up to this sea without an 
 object, neither ! Well, let him run in, if he can get 
 there ; we will keep the lake, like hearty English 
 mariners.” 
 
 This sounded gloriously, but Cap eyed wdth 
 envy the glittering black mass of the Montcalm’s 
 hull, her waving top-sail, and the misty tracery 
 of her spars, as she grew less amd less distinct, 
 and finally disappeared in the drizzle in a form 
 as shadowy as that of some unreal image. Glad- 
 ly would he have followed in her wake, had he 
 dared ; for, to own the truth, the prospect of an- 
 other stormy night in the midst of the wild waters 
 that were raging around him, brought little con- 
 solation. Still, he had too much professional 
 pride to betray his uneasiness, and those under 
 his care relied on his knowledge and resources, 
 with the implicit and blind confidence that the 
 ignorant are apt to feel. 
 
 A few hours succeeded, and darkness came 
 again to increase the perils of the Scud. A lull 
 in the gale, however, had induced Cap to come by 
 the wind once more, and throughout the night 
 the cutter was lying-to, as before, head-reaching 
 as a matter of course, and occasionally waring to 
 
 keep off the land. It is unnecessary to dwell on 
 the incidents of the night, which resembled those 
 of any other gale of wind. There were the pitch- 
 ing of the vessel, the hissing of the waters, the 
 dashing of spray, the shocks that menaced anni- 
 hilation to the little craft as she plunged into the 
 sea, the undying bowlings of the wind, and the fear- 
 ful drift. The last was the most serious danger ; 
 for, though exceeding weatherly under her canvas, 
 and totally without top-hamper, the Scud was 
 so light, that the combing of the swells would 
 seem, at times, to wash her down to leeward 
 with a velocity as gx-eat as that of the surges 
 themselves. 
 
 During this night, Cap slept soundly and for 
 several hours. The day was just dawning, when 
 he felt himself shaken by the shoulder, and, arous- 
 ing himself, he found the Pathfinder standing at 
 his side. During the gale, the guide had appeared 
 little on deck, for his natural modesty told him 
 that seamen alone should interfere with the man- 
 agement of the vessel ; and he tvas willing to 
 show the same reliance on these who had charge 
 of the Scud, as he expected those who followed 
 through the forest to manifest in his own skill. 
 But he now thought himself justified in inter- 
 fering, which he did in his own unsophisticated 
 and peculiar manner. 
 
 “Sleep is sweet, Master Cap,” he said, aa 
 soon as the eyes of the latter were fairly open, 
 and his consciousness had sufficiently returned — 
 “ sleep is sweet, as I know from experience, but 
 life is sweeter still. Look about you, and say if 
 this is exactly the moment for a commander to 
 be off his feet.” 
 
 “ How now — how now, Master Pathfinder ! ” 
 growled Cap, in the first moments of his awakened 
 faculties — “are you, too, getting on the side of 
 the grumblers? When ashore, I admired your 
 sagacity in running through the worst shoals 
 without a compass, and, since we have been afloat, 
 your meekness and submission have been as pleas 
 ant as your confidence on your own gvound ; 1 
 little expected such a summons fi’om you.” 
 
 “ As for myself, Master Cap, I feel I have my 
 gifts, and I believe they’ll interfere with those of 
 no other man ; but the case may be different with 
 Mabel Dunham. She has her gifts, too, it is 
 true ; but they are not rude like ours, but gentle, 
 and womanish, as they ought to be. It’s on her 
 account that I speak, and not on my own.” 
 
 “ Ay — ay — I begin to understand. The girl is 
 a good girl, my worthy friend, but she is a sol 
 dier’s daughter and a sailor’s niece, and ought 
 not to be too tame or too tender in a gale. Does 
 she show any fear ? ” 
 
110 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ Not she — not she. Mabel is a woman, but 
 she is reasonable and silent. Not a word have 
 I heard from her, concerning our doings ; though 
 I think, Master Cap, she would like it better if 
 Jasper Eau-douce were put into his proper place, 
 and things were restored to their old situation, 
 like. This is human natur’.” 
 
 “ I’ll warrant it ! Girl-like, and Dunham-like, 
 too. Any thing is better than an old uncle, and 
 everybody knows more than an old seaman ! 
 This is human natur’, Master Pathfinder and, 
 d e, if I’m the man to sheer a fathom, star- 
 
 board or port, for all the human natur’ that can 
 be found in a minx of twenty — ay — or” — lower- 
 ing his voice a little — “ for all that can be pa- 
 raded in his majesty’s 55th regiment of foot ! I’ve 
 not been at sea forty years, to come up on this 
 bit of fresh water to be taught human natur’. 
 How this gale holds out ! It blows as hard, at 
 this moment, as if Boreas had just clapped his 
 hand upon the bellows. And what is all this to 
 leeward ? ” rubbing his eyes — “ land, as sure as 
 my name is Cap ; and high land, too ! ” 
 
 The Pathfinder made no immediate answer, 
 but, shaking his head, he watched the expression 
 of his companion’s face, with a look of strong 
 anxiety in his own. 
 
 “ Land, as certain as this is the Scud ! ” repeat- 
 ed Cap, “ a lee-shore, and that, too, within a league 
 of us, with as pretty a line of breakers as one 
 could find on the beach of all Long Island ! ” 
 
 “ And is that encouraging, or is it dishearten- 
 ing ? ” demanded the Pathfinder. 
 
 “ Ha ! encouraging, disheartening ? Why, nei- 
 ther. No, no — there is nothing encouraging about 
 it; and, as for disheartening, nothing ought to 
 dishearten a seaman. You never get disheart- 
 ened or afraid in the woods, my friend ? ” 
 
 “ I’ll not say that — I’ll not say that. When 
 the danger is great, it is my gift to see it, and 
 know it, and to try to avoid it ; else would my 
 scalp, long since, have been drying in a Mingo 
 wigwam. On this lake, howsever, I can see no 
 trail, and I feel it my duty to submit ; though I 
 think we ought to remember there is such a per- 
 son as Mabel Dunham on board. But here comes 
 her father, and he will nat’rally feel for his own 
 child.” 
 
 “We are seriously situated, I believe, brother 
 Cap,” said the sergeant, when he had reached the 
 spot, “ by what I can gather from the two hands 
 on the forecastle. They tell me the cutter can- 
 not carry any more sail, and her drift is so great 
 we shall go ashore in an hour or two. I hope 
 their fears have deceived them ? ” 
 
 Cap made no reply, but he gazed at the land 
 
 with a rueful face, and then looked to windward, 
 with an expression of ferocity, as if he would 
 gladly have quarrelled with the weather. 
 
 “ It may be well, brother,” the sergeant con- 
 tinued, “ to send for Jasper and consult him as 
 to what is to be done. There are no French here 
 to dread, and, under all circumstances, the bov 
 will save us from drowning, if possible.” 
 
 “ Ay — ay — ’tis these cursed circumstances that 
 have done all the mischief ! But let the fellow come 
 — let him come ; a few well-managed questions wili 
 bring the truth out of him, I’ll warrant you.” 
 
 This acquiescence on the part of the dog- 
 matical Cap was no sooner obtained, than Jaspei 
 was sent for. The young man instantly made his 
 appearance, his whole air, countenance, and mien, 
 expressive of mortification, humility, and, as his 
 observers fancied, rebuked deception. When he 
 first stepped on deck, Jasper cast one hurried, 
 anxious glance around, as if curious to know the 
 situation of the cutter ; and that glance sufficed, 
 it would seem, to let him into the secret of all 
 her perils. At first he looked to windward, as is 
 usual with every seaman ; then he turned round 
 the horizon, until his eye caught a view of the 
 highlands to leeward, when the whole truth burst 
 upon him at once. 
 
 “I’ve sent for you, Master Jasper,” said Cap, 
 folding his arms, and balancing his body with 
 the dignity of the forecastle, “ in order to learn 
 something about the haven to leeward. We take 
 it for granted, you do not bear malice so hard as 
 to wish to drown us all, especially the women ; 
 and I suppose you will be man enough to help us 
 to run the cutter into some safe berth, until this 
 bit of a gale has done blowing ? ” 
 
 “ I would die myself, rather than harm should 
 come to Mabel Dunham,” the young man earnest- 
 ly answered. 
 
 “ I knew it ! — I knew it ! ” cried the Pathfind- 
 er, clapping his hand kindly on Jasper’s shoulder. 
 “ The lad is as true as the best compass that ever 
 run a boundary, or brought a man off from rv 
 blind trail ! It is a moral sin to believe other 
 wise.” 
 
 “ Humph ! ” ejaculated Cap, “ especially tha 
 women ! As if they were in any particular dan- 
 ger. — Never mind, young man ; we shall under* 
 stand each other by talking like two plain sea 
 men. Do you know of any port unaer our lee ? ” 
 
 “None. There is a large bay at this end of 
 the lake, but it is unknown to us all ; and not 
 easy of entrance.” 
 
 “ And this coast to leeward — it has nothing 
 particular to recommend it, I suppose ? ” 
 
 “ It is a wilderness until you reach the mouth 
 
JASPER ON DECK. 
 
 Ill 
 
 of the Niagara, in one direction, and Frontenac 
 in the other. North and west, they tell me, 
 there is nothing but forest and prairies, for a 
 thousand miles.” 
 
 “ Thank God, then, there can be no French ! 
 Are there many savages, hereaway, on the land ? ” 
 
 “ The Indians are to be found in all directions ; 
 though they are nowhere very numerous. By ac- 
 cident, we might find a party at any point on the 
 shore ; or we might pass months there, without 
 seeing one.” 
 
 “ We must take our chance, then, as to the 
 blackguards — but, to be frank with you, Master 
 Western — if this little unpleasant matter about 
 the French had not come to pass, what would 
 you now do with the cutter ? ” 
 
 “lama much younger sailor than yourself, 
 Master Cap,” said Jasper, modestly, “ and am 
 hardly fitted to advise you.” 
 
 “ Ay — ay — we all know that. In a common 
 case, perhaps not. But this is an uncommon 
 case, and a circumstance ; and, on this bit of 
 fresh water, it has what may be called its pecul- 
 iarities ; and so, every thing considered, you 
 may be fitted to advise even your own father. At 
 all events, you can speak, and I can judge of 
 your opinions, agreeably to my own experience.” 
 
 “ I think, sir, before two hours are over, the 
 cutter will have to anchor.” 
 
 “ Anchor ! — not out here, in the lake ? ” 
 
 “ No, sir ; but in yonder, near the land.” 
 
 “You do not mean to say, Master-Oh !-the 
 deuce, you would anchor on a lee-shore, in a gale 
 of wind ! ” 
 
 “If I would save my vessel, that is exactly 
 what I would do, Master Cap.” 
 
 “ Whe — e — e — w ! — this is fresh water, with 
 a vengeance. Harkee, young man, I’ve been a 
 seafaring animal, boy and man, forty-one years, 
 and I never yet heard of such a thing. I’d throw 
 my ground-tackle overboard, before I would be 
 guilty of so lubberly an act ! ” 
 
 “ That is what we do on this lake,” modestly 
 replied Jasper, “ when we are hard pressed. I 
 dare say we might do better, had we been better 
 taught.” 
 
 “That you might indeed! No; no man in- 
 duces me to commit such a sin against my own 
 bringing up. I should never dare show my face 
 inside of Sandy Hook again, had I committed so 
 know-nothing an exploit. Why, Pathfinder, here, 
 has more seamanship in him than that comes to. 
 You can go below, again, Master Oh !-the-deuce.” 
 
 Jasper quietly bowed and withdrew; still, as 
 he passed down the ladder, the spectators ob- 
 served that he cast a lingering, anxious look at 
 
 the horizon to windward, and the land to lee- 
 ward, and then disappeared with concern 8 trough 
 expressed in every lineament of his face. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 “His still refuted quirks he still repeats; 
 
 Hew raised objections with new quibbles meets, 
 
 Till sinking in the quicksand he defends, 
 
 He dies disputing, and the contest ends.” 
 
 Cowpeb. 
 
 As the soldier’s wife was sick in her berth, 
 Mabel Dunham was the only person in the outer 
 cabin when Jasper returned to it: for, by an act 
 of grace in the sergeant, he had been permitted 
 to resume his proper place in this part of the 
 vessel. We should be ascribing too much sim- 
 plicity of character to our heroine, if we said that 
 she had felt no distrust of the young man, in 
 consequence of his arrest ; but we should also be 
 doing injustice to her warmth of feeling, and 
 generosity of disposition, if we did not add that 
 that this distrust was insignificant and transient 
 As he now took his seat near her, his whole 
 countenance clouded with the uneasiness he felt 
 concerning the situation of the cutter, every thing 
 like suspicion was banished from her mind, and 
 she saw in him only an injured man. 
 
 “ You let this affair weigh too heavily on your 
 mind, Jasper,” she said, eagerly, or with that 
 forgetfulness of self, with which the youthful of 
 her sex are wont to betray their feelings, when a 
 strong and generous interest has attained the 
 ascendency — “no one, who knows you, can or 
 does believe you guilty. Pathfinder says he will 
 pledge his life for you.” 
 
 “ Then you, Mabel,” returned the youth, his 
 eyes flashing fire, “ do not look upon me as the 
 traitor your father seems to believe me to be ? ” 
 
 “ My dear father is a soldier, and is obliged 
 to act as one. My father’s daughter is not, and 
 will think of you as she ought to think of a man 
 who has done so much to serve her already.” 
 
 “ Mabel— I’m not used to talking with one like 
 you— or saying all I think and feel, with any. 1 
 never had a sister, and my mother died when I 
 was a child, so that I know little what your sex 
 most likes to hear — ” 
 
 Mabel would have given the world to know 
 what lay behind the teeming word, at which 
 J asper hesitated ; but the indefinable and con- 
 trolling sense of womanly diffidence made het 
 suppress her womanly curiosity. She waited in 
 silence for him to explain his own meaning. 
 
112 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ I wish to say, Mabel,” the young man con- 
 tinued, after a pause which he found sufficiently 
 embarrassing, “ that I am unused to the ways and 
 opinions of one like you, and that you must im- 
 agine all I would add.” 
 
 Mabel had imagination enough to fancy any 
 thing, but there are ideas and feelings that her 
 sex prefer to have expressed, before they yield 
 them all their own sympathies, and she had a 
 vague consciousness that these of Jasper’s might 
 properly be enumerated in the class; with a 
 readiness that belonged to her sex, therefore, she 
 preferred changing the discourse, to permitting it 
 to proceed any further, in a manner so awkward 
 and so unsatisfactory. 
 
 “ Tell me one thing, Jasper, and I shall be 
 content,” she said, speaking now with a firmness 
 that denoted confidence, not only in herself, but 
 in her companion — “ you do not deserve this 
 cruel suspicion which rests upon you ? ” 
 
 “I do not, Mabel,” answered Jasper, looking 
 into her full blue eyes with an openness and 
 simplicity that might have shaken strong distrust. 
 “As I hope for mercy hereafter, I do not.” 
 
 “I knew it — I could have sworn it,”. returned 
 the girl, warmly. “And yet my father means 
 well : but do not let this matter disturb you, 
 Jasper.” 
 
 “ There is so much more to apprehend from 
 another quarter, just now, that I scarce think 
 of it.” 
 
 “ Jasper ! ” 
 
 “ I do not wish to alarm you, Mabel, but if 
 your uncle could be persuaded to change his 
 notions about handling the Scud — and yet he is 
 so much older and more experienced than I am, 
 that he ought, perhaps, to place more reliance on 
 his own judgment than on mine.” 
 
 “ Do you think the cutter in any danger ? ” 
 demanded Mabel, quick as thought. 
 
 “I fear so — at least she would have been 
 thought in great danger, by us of the lake ; per- 
 haps an old seaman of the ocean may have means 
 of his own to take care of her.” 
 
 “ Jasper, all agree in giving you credit for 
 skill in managing the Scud ! You know the lake, 
 you know the cutter — you rmtsl be the best judge 
 of our real situation ! ” 
 
 “ My concern for you, Mabel, may make me 
 more cowardly than common ; but, to be frank, 
 I see but one method of keeping the cutter from 
 being wrecked in the course of the next two or 
 three hours, and that your uncle refuses to take. 
 After all, this may be my ignorance ; for, as he 
 says, Ontario is merely fresh water.” 
 
 “You cannot believe this will make any dif- 
 
 ference. Think of my dear father, Jasper! 
 Think of yourself, of all the lives that depend on 
 a timely word from you to save them ! ” 
 
 “I think of you, Mabel, and that is more, 
 much more, than all the rest put together,” re- 
 turned the young man, with a strength of expres- 
 sion, and an earnestness of look, that uttered 
 infinitely more than the words themselves. 
 
 Mabel’s heart beat quick, and a gleam of 
 grateful satisfaction shot across her blushing 
 features ; but the alarm was too vivid and too 
 serious to admit of much relief from happier 
 thoughts. She did not attempt to repress a look 
 of gratitude, and then she returned to the feeling 
 that was naturally uppermost. 
 
 “ My uncle’s obstinacy must not be permitted 
 to occasion this disaster. Go once more on deck, 
 Jasper, and ask my father to come into the 
 cabin.” 
 
 While the young man was complying with 
 this request, Mabel sat listening to the howling, 
 of the storm, and the dashing of the water against 
 the cutter, in a dread to which she had hitherto 
 been a stranger. Constitutionally an excellent 
 sailor, as the term is used among passengers, she 
 had not, hitherto, bethought her of any danger, 
 and had passed her time, since the commence-, 
 ment of the gale, in such womanly enployments 
 as her situation allowed ; but, now alarm was seri- 
 ously awakened, she did not fail to perceive that 
 never before had she been on the water in such a 
 tempest. The minute or two that had elapsed 
 ere the sergeant came, appeared an hour, and she, 
 scarcely breathed when she saw him and Jasper 
 descending the ladder in company. Quick as 
 language could express her meaning, she ac- 
 quainted her father with Jasper’s opinion of their 
 situation, and entreated him, if he loved her, or 
 had any regard for his own life, or for those of 
 his own men, to interfere with her uncle, and to 
 induce him to yield the control of the cutter 
 again to its proper commander. 
 
 “ Jasper is true, father,” she added, earnestly, 
 “ and if false, he could have no motive in wreck- 
 ing us in this distant part of the lake, at the risk 
 of all our lives, his own included. I will pledge 
 my own life for his truth.” 
 
 “ Ay, this is well enough for a young woman 
 who is frightened,” answered the more phleg- 
 matic parent ; “ but it might not be so prudent or 
 excusable in one in command of an expedition. 
 Jasper may think the chance of drowning in get- 
 ting ashore folly repaid by the chance of escap- 
 ing as soon as he reaches the land.” 
 
 “ Sergeant Dunham ! ” 
 
 “ Father ! ” 
 
THE PILOT’S OPINION. 
 
 These exclamations were made simultane- 
 ously, but they were uttered in tones expressive 
 of different feelings. In Jasper, surprise was the 
 emotion uppermost ; in Mabel, reproach. The 
 old soldier, however, was too much accustomed 
 to deal frankly with subordinates to heed either ; 
 and, after a moment’s thought, he continued as if 
 neither had spoken : 
 
 “Nor is brother Cap a man likely to submit 
 to be taught his duty on board a vessel. ” 
 
 “ But, father, when all our lives are in the ut- 
 most jeopardy ! ” 
 
 “ So much the worse. The fair-weather com- 
 mander is no great matter ; it is when things go 
 wrong, that the best officer shows himself in his 
 true colors. Charles Cap will not be likely to 
 quit the helm because the ship is in danger. — Be- 
 sides, Jasper Eau-douce, he says, your proposal, 
 in itself, has a suspicious air about it, and sounds 
 more like treachery than reason.” 
 
 “ He may think so, but let him send for the 
 pilot, and hear his opinion. It is well known I 
 have not seen the man since yesterday evening.” 
 
 “ Thi3 does sound reasonably, and the experi- 
 ment shall be tried. Follow me on deck, then, 
 that all may be honest and above-board.” 
 
 Jasper obeyed, and so keen was the interest 
 of Mabel, that she, too, ventured as far as the 
 companion-way, where her garments were suffi- 
 ciently protected against the violence of the wind, 
 and her person from the spray. Here maiden 
 modesty induced her to remain, though an ab- 
 sorbed witness of what was passing. 
 
 The pilot soon appeared, and there was no 
 mistaking the look of concern that he cast around 
 at the scene, as soon as he was in the open air. 
 Some rumors of the situation of the Scud had 
 found their way below, it is true ; but, in this in- 
 stance, rumor had lessened, instead of magnifying 
 the dangers. He was allowed a few minutes to 
 look about him, and then the question was put 
 as to the course that he thought it prudent to 
 follow. 
 
 “ I see no means of saving the cutter but to 
 anchor,” he answered, simply, and without hesi- 
 tation. 
 
 “What, out here, in the lake?” inquired 
 Cap, as he had previously done of Jasper. 
 
 “ No — but closer in ; just at the outer line of 
 the breakers.” 
 
 The effect of this communication was to leave 
 no doubt in the mind of Cap, that there was a 
 Becret arrangement between her commander and 
 the pilot to cast away the Scud ; most probably 
 with the hope of effecting their escape. He con- 
 eequently treated the opinion j)f the latter with 
 34 
 
 113 
 
 the indifference he had manifested toward that of 
 the former. 
 
 “ I tell you, brother Dunham,” he said, in an- 
 swer to the remonstrances of the sergeant against 
 his turning a deaf ear to this double representa- 
 tion, “ that no seaman would give such an opinion 
 honestly. To anchor on a lee-shore, in a gale of 
 wind, would be an act of madness that I could 
 never excuse to the underwriters, under any cir- 
 cumstances, as long as a rag can be set — but to 
 anchor close to breakers would be insanity.” 
 
 “ His majesty underwrites the Scud, brother, 
 and I am responsible for the lives of my com- 
 mand. These men are better acquainted with 
 Lake Ontario than we can possibly be, and I do 
 think their telling the same tale entitles them to 
 some credit.” 
 
 “ Uncle ! ” said Mabel, earnestly — but a ges- 
 ture from Jasper induced the girl to restrain her 
 feelings. 
 
 “ We are drifting down upon the breakers so 
 rapidly,” said the young man, “ that little need 
 be said on the subject. Half an hour must settle 
 the matter, one way or the other ; but I warn 
 Master Cap that the surest-footed man among us 
 will not be able to keep his feet an instant on 
 the deck of this low craft, should she fairly get 
 within them. Indeed, I make little doubt that 
 we shall fill and founder before the second line 
 of rollers is passed ! ” 
 
 “And how would anchoring help the mat- 
 ter?” demanded Cap, furiously, as if he felt that 
 Jasper was responsible for the effects of the 
 gale, as well as for the opinion he had just given. 
 
 “ It would at least do no harm,” Eau-douce 
 mildly replied. “ By bringing the cutter head to 
 sea we should lessen her drift ; and, even if we 
 dragged through the breakers, it would be with 
 the least possible danger. I hope, Master Cap, 
 you will allow the pilot and myself to prepare for 
 anchoring, since the precaution may do good, 
 and can do no harm.” 
 
 “ Overhaul your ranges if you will, and get 
 your anchors clear, with all my heart. We are 
 now in a situation that cannot be much affected 
 by any thing of that sort. — Sergeant, a word with 
 you aft here, if you please.” 
 
 Cap led his brother-in-law out of ear-shot, 
 and then, with more of human feeling in his voice 
 and manner than he was apt to exhibit, he opened 
 his heart on the subject of their real situation. 
 
 “ This is a melancholy affair for poor Mabel,” 
 he said, blowing his nose, and speaking with a 
 slight tremor. “ You and I, sergeant, are old 
 fellows, and used to being near death, if not to 
 actually dying. Our trades fit us for such scenes ; 
 
114 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 but poor Mabel, she is an affectionate and kind- 
 hearted girl, and I had hoped to see her comfort- 
 ably settled and a mother, beiore my time came. 
 Well, well ; we must take the bad with the good 
 in every v’y’ge, and the only serious objection 
 that an old seafaring man can with propriety 
 make to such an event, is that it should happen 
 on this bit of d d fresh water.” 
 
 Sergeant Dunham was a brave man, and had 
 shown his spirit in scenes that looked much more 
 appalling than this. But on all such occasions 
 he had been able to act his part against his foes, 
 while here he was pressed upon by an enemy 
 whom he had no means of resisting. For himself 
 he cared far less than for his daughter, feeling 
 some of that self-reliance which seldom deserts a 
 man of firmness, who is in vigorous health, and 
 who has been accustomed to personal exertions 
 in moments of jeopardy. But as respects Mabel 
 he saw no means of escape, and with a father’s 
 fondness he at once determined that, if either was 
 doomed to perish, he and his daughter must per- 
 ish together. 
 
 “ Do you think this must come to pass ? ” he 
 asked of Cap, firmly, but with strong feeling. 
 
 “ Twenty minutes will carry us into the break- 
 ers, and look for yourself, sergeant, what chance 
 will even the stoutest man among us have in that 
 caldron to leeward ? ” 
 
 The prospect was, indeed, little calculated to 
 encourage hope. By this time the Scud was 
 within a mile of the shore, on which the gale was 
 blowing at right angles, with a violence that for- 
 bade the idea of showing any additional canvas 
 with a view to claw off. The small portion of the 
 mainsail that was actually set, and which merely 
 served to keep the head of the Scud so near the 
 wind as to prevent the waves from breaking over 
 her, quivered under the gusts as if at each mo- 
 ment the stout threads which held the complicated 
 fabric together, were about to be torn asunder. 
 The drizzle had ceased, but the air for a hundred 
 feet above the surface of the lake was filled with 
 dazzling spray, which had an appearance not un- 
 like that of a brilliant mist, while, above all, the 
 sun was shining gloriously in a cloudless sky. 
 Jasper had noted the omen, and had foretold that 
 it announced a speedy termination to the gale, 
 though the next hour or two must decide their 
 fate. Between the cutter and the shore the view 
 was still more wild and appalling. The breakers 
 extended near half a mile ; while the water within 
 their line was white with foam, the air above them 
 was so far filled with vapor and spray as to ren- 
 der the land beyond hazy and indistinct. Still it 
 could be seen that the latter was high, not a usu- 
 
 al thing for the shores of Ontario, and that it was 
 covered with the verdant mantle of the intermix 
 nable forest. 
 
 While the sergeant and Cap were gazing at 
 this scene in silence, Jasper and his people were 
 actively engaged on the forecastle. No sooner 
 had the young man received permission to resume 
 his old employment, than, appealing to some of 
 the soldiers for aid, he mustered five or six assist- 
 ants, and set about in earnest the performance 
 of a duty that had been too long delayed. On 
 these narrow waters anchors are never stowed 
 inboard, or cables that are intended for service 
 unbent, and Jasper was saved much of the labor 
 that would have been necessary in a vessel at 
 sea. The two bowers were soon ready to be let 
 go, ranges of the cables were overhauled,^ and 
 then the party paused to look about them. No 
 changes for the better had occurred ; but the cut- 
 ter was falling slowly in, and each instant ren- 
 dered it more certain that she could not gain an 
 inch to windward. 
 
 One long, earnest surrey of the lake ended, 
 Jasper gave new orders in a manner to prove 
 how much he thought that the time pressed. 
 Two kedges were got on deck, and hawsers were 
 bent to them ; the inner ends of the hawsers were 
 bent in their turns to the crowns of the anchors, 
 and every thing was got ready to throw them 
 overboard at the proper moment. These prepa- 
 rations completed, Jasper’s manner changed from 
 the excitement of exertion to a look of calm but 
 settled concern. He quitted the forecastle, where 
 the seas were dashing inboard at every plunge of 
 the vessel, the duty just mentioned having been 
 executed with the bodies of the crew frequently 
 buried in the water, and walked to a drier part 
 of the deck aft. Here he was met by the Path- 
 finder, who was standing near Mabel and the 
 quartermaster. Most of those on board, with the 
 exception of the individuals who have already 
 been particularly mentioned, were below, some 
 seeking relief from physical suffering on their 
 pallets, and others tardily bethinking them of their 
 sins. For the first time, most probably, since her 
 keel had dipped into the limpid waters of Onta- 
 rio, the voice of prayer was heard on board the 
 Scud. 
 
 “Jasper,” commenced his friend the guide, 
 “ I have been of no use this morning, for my gifts 
 are of little account, as you know, in a vessel like 
 this; but, should it please God to let the ser- 
 geant’s daughter reach the shore alive, my ac- 
 quaintance with the forest may still carry her 
 through in safety to the garrison.” 
 
 “ 'Tis a fearful distance thither, Pathfinder I ” 
 
THE CUTTER SAVED. 
 
 115 
 
 Mabel rejoined, the party being so near together 
 that all that was said by one was overheard by 
 the others. “ I am afraid none of us could live 
 to reach the fort.” 
 
 “It would be a risky path, Mabel, and a 
 crooked one ; though some of your sex have un- 
 dergone even more than that in this wilderness. 
 —But, Jasper, either you or I, or both of us, must 
 man this bark canoe ; Mabel’s only chance will 
 lie in getting through the breakers in that.” 
 
 “ I would willingly man any thing to save Ma- 
 bel,” answered Jasper, with a melancholy smile; 
 “ but no human hand, Pathfinder, could carry 
 that canoe through yonder breakers in a gale 
 like this. I have hopes from anchoring, after 
 all ; for once before have we saved the Scud in an 
 extremity nearly as great as this.” 
 
 “If we are to anchor, Jasper,” the sergeant 
 inquired, “why not do it at once? Every foot 
 we lose in drifting now would come into the dis- 
 tance we shall probably drag when the anchors 
 are let go.” 
 
 Jasper drew nearer to the sergeant and took 
 his hand, pressing it earnestly, and in a way to 
 denote strong, almost uncontrollable feelings. 
 
 “ Sergeant Dunham,” he said, solemnly, “ you 
 are a good man, though you have treated me 
 aarshly in this business. You love your daugh- 
 ter ? ” 
 
 “That you cannot doubt, Eau-douce,” re- 
 turned the sergeant, huskily. 
 
 “Will you give her — give us all, the only 
 chance for life that is left ? ” 
 
 “What would you have me to do, boy; what 
 would you have me to do ? I have acted accord- 
 ing to my judgment hitherto— what would you 
 have me do ? ” 
 
 “Support me against Master Cap for five 
 minutes, and all that man can do toward saving 
 the Scud shall be done.” 
 
 The sergeant hesitated, for he was too much 
 of a disciplinarian to fly in the face of regular 
 orders. He disliked the appearance of vacilla- 
 tion, too ; and then he had a profound respect 
 for his kinsman’s seamanship. While he was de- 
 liberating, Cap came from the post he had some 
 time occupied, which was at the side of the man 
 at the helm, and drew nigh the group. 
 
 “ Master Eau-douce,” he said, as soon as near 
 enough to be heard, “ I have come to inquire if 
 you know any spot near by where this cutter can 
 be beached ? The moment has arrived when we 
 are driven to this hard alternative.” 
 
 That instant of indecision on the part of Cap 
 Secured the triumph of Jasper. Looking at the 
 sergeant, the young man received a nod that as- 
 
 sured him of all he asked, and he lost not one of 
 those moments that were getting to be so very 
 precious. 
 
 “ Shall I take the helm ? ” he inquired of 
 Cap, “ and see if we can reach a creek that lies 
 to leeward ? ” 
 
 “ Do so do so — ” said the other, hemming 
 to clear his throat, for he felt oppressed by a re« 
 sponsibility that weighed all the heavier on his 
 shoulders on account of his ignorance. “ Do so, 
 Oh-the-deuce, since, to be frank with you, I can 
 see nothing better to be done. We must beach 
 or swamp ! ” 
 
 Jasper required no more. Springing aft, he 
 soon had the tiller in his own hands. The pilot 
 was prepared for what was to follow, and, at a 
 sign from his young commander, the rag of sail 
 that had so long been set was taken in. At that 
 moment, Jasper, watching his time, put the helm 
 up, the head of a staysail was loosened forward, 
 and the light cutter, as if conscious she was now 
 under the control of familiar hands, fell off, and 
 was soon in the trough of the sea. This perilous 
 instant was passed in safety, and at the next mo- 
 ment the little vessel appeared flying down tow- 
 ard the breakers at a rate that threatened instant 
 destruction. The distances had got to be so 
 short, that five or six minutes sufficed for all that 
 Jasper wished, and he put the helm down again, 
 when the bows of the Scud came up to the wind, 
 notwithstanding the turbulence of the waters, as 
 gracefully as the duck varies its line of direction 
 on the glassy pond. A sign from Jasper set all 
 in motion on the forecastle, and a kedge was 
 thrown from each bow. The fearful nature of 
 the drift was now apparent even to Mabel’s eyes, 
 for the two hawsers ran out like tow-lines. As 
 soon as they straightened to a slight strain, both 
 anchors were let go, and cable was given to each 
 nearly to the better-ends. It was not a difficult 
 task to snub so light a craft with ground tackle 
 of a quality better than common ; and, in less 
 than ten minutes from the moment when Jasper 
 went to the helm, the Scud was riding, head to 
 sea, with the two cables stretched ahead in lines 
 that resembled bars of iron. 
 
 “ This is not well done, Master Jasper ! ” an- 
 grily exclaimed Cap, as soon as he perceived the 
 trick that had been played him — “ this is not well 
 done, sir ; I order you to cut, and to beach the 
 cutter, without a moment’s delay.” 
 
 No one, however, seemed disposed to comply 
 with this order, for so long as Eau-douce saw fit 
 to command, his own people were disposed to 
 obey. Finding that the men remained passive, 
 Cap, who believed they were in the utmost peril, 
 
L16 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 turned fiercely to Jasper, and renewed his remon- 
 strances. 
 
 “You did not head for your pretended creek,” 
 he added, after dealing in some objurgatory re- 
 marks that we do not deem it necessary to re- 
 cord, “ but steered for that bluff, where every 
 soul on board would have been drowned, had we 
 gone ashore ! ” 
 
 “ And you wish to cut, and put every soul 
 ashore, at that very spot ! ” Jasper retorted, a lit- 
 tle dryly. 
 
 “ Throw a lead-line overboard, and ascertain 
 the drift ! — ” Cap now roared to the people for- 
 ward. A sign from Jasper sustaining this order, 
 it was instantly obeyed. All on deck gathered 
 round the spot, and watched, with nearly breath- 
 less interest, the result of the experiment. The 
 lead was no sooner on the bottom, than the line 
 tended forward, and in about two minutes it was 
 seen that the cutter had drifted her length, dead 
 in toward the bluff. Jasper looked grave, for he 
 well knew nothing would hold the vessel did she 
 get within the vortex of the breakers, the first 
 line of which was appearing and disappearing 
 about a cable’s length directly under their stem. 
 
 “ Traitor ! ” exclaimed Cap, shaking a finger 
 at the young commander, though passion choked 
 the rest. “ You must answer for this with your 
 life 1 ” he added, after a short pause. — “ If I were 
 at the head of this expedition, sergeant, I would 
 hang him at the end of the main-boom, lest he 
 escape drowning ! ” 
 
 “ Moderate your feelings, brother — be more 
 moderate, I beseech you ; Jasper appears to have 
 done all for the best, and matters may not be as 
 bad as you believe them.” 
 
 “ Why did he not run for the creek he men- 
 tioned — why has he brought us here, dead to 
 windward of that bluff, and to a spot where even 
 the breakers are only of half the ordinary width, 
 as if in a hurry to drown all on board ? ” 
 
 “ I headed for the bluff, for the precise rea- 
 son that the breakers are so narrow at this spot,” 
 answered Jasper, mildly, though his gorge had 
 risen at the language the other held. 
 
 “ Do you mean to tell an old seaman like me, 
 that this cutter could live in those breakers ? ” 
 
 “ I do not, sir. I think she would fill and 
 swamp, if driven into the first line of them — I 
 am certain she would never reach the shore on 
 her bottom, if fairly entered. I hope to keep her 
 clear of them altogether.” 
 
 “ With a drift of her length m a minute ! ” 
 
 “ The backing of the anchors does not yet 
 fairly tell, nor do I even hope that they will en- 
 tirely bring her up.” 
 
 “On what do you rely? To moor a crafty 
 head and stern, by faith, hope, and charity ! ” 
 
 “No, sir — I trust to the under-tow. I headed 
 for the bluff, because I knew that it was stronger 
 at that point than at any other, and because we 
 could get nearer in with the land without enter- 
 ing the breakers.” 
 
 This was said with spirit, though without any 
 particular show of resentment. Its effect on Cap 
 was marked, the feeling that was uppermost being 
 evidently that of surprise. 
 
 “ Under-tow ! ” he repeated ; “ who the devil 
 ever heard of saving a vessel from going ashore 
 by the under-tow ? ” 
 
 “ This may never happen on the ocean, sir,” 
 Jasper answered, modestly, “ but we have known 
 it to happen here.” 
 
 « The lad is right, brother,” put in the ser- 
 geant ; “ for, though I do not well understand it, 
 
 I have often heard the sailors of the lake speak 
 of such a thing. We shall do well to trust to 
 Jasper, in this strait.” 
 
 Cap grumbled and swore, but, as there was no 
 remedy, he was compelled to acquiesce. Jasper 
 being now called on to explain what he meant by 
 the under-tow, gave this account of the matter : 
 The water that was driven up on the shore by the 
 gale, was necessarily compelled to find its level 
 by returning to the lake by some secret channels. 
 This could not be done on the surface, where 
 both wind and waves were constantly urging it 
 toward the land, and it necessarily formed a sort 
 of lower eddy, by means of which it flowed back 
 again to its ancient and proper bed. This in- 
 ferior current had received the name of the un- 
 der-tow ; and, as it would necessarily act on the 
 bottom of a vessel that drew as much water as 
 the Scud, Jasper trusted to the aid of this reac- 
 tion to keep his cables from parting. In short, 
 the upper and lower currents would, in a manner, 
 counteract each other. 
 
 Simple and ingenious as was this theory, how- 
 ever, as yet there was little evidence of its being 
 reduced to practice. The drift continued ; though, 
 as the hedges and hawsers with which the an- 
 chors were backed took the strains, it became 
 sensibly less. At length the man at the lead 
 announced the joyful intelligence that the an- 
 chors had ceased to drag, and that the vessel 
 had brought up ! At this precise moment, the 
 first line of breakers was about a hundred feet 
 astern of the Scud, even appearing to approach 
 much nearer, as the foam vanished and returneu 
 on the raging surges. Jasper sprang forward, 
 and, casting a glance over the bows, he smiled in 
 triumph, as he pointed exultingly to the cables. 
 
LANDING OF MABEL AND HER PARTY. 
 
 117 
 
 Instead of resembling bars of iron in rigidity, as 
 before, they were curving downward, and to a 
 seaman’s senses it was evident that the cutter 
 rose and fell on the seas as they came in, with 
 the ease of a ship in a tideway, when the power 
 of the wind is relieved by the counteracting press- 
 ure of the water. 
 
 “ ’Tis the under-tow ! ” he exclaimed, with 
 delight, fairly bounding along the deck to steady 
 the helm, in order that the cutter might ride still 
 easier — “ Providence has placed us directly in its 
 current, and there is no longer any danger ! ” 
 
 “Ay, ay, Providence is a good seaman,” 
 growled Cap, “and often helps lubbers out of 
 difficulty. Under-tow or upper-tow, the gale 
 has abated, and, fortunately for us all, the anchors 
 have met with good holding-ground. Then this 
 
 d d fresh water has an unnatural way with 
 
 it 1 ” 
 
 Men are seldom inclined to quarrel with good 
 fortune, but it is in distress that they grow clam- 
 orous and critical. Most on board were disposed 
 to believe that they had been saved from ship- 
 wreck by the skill and knowledge of Jasper, with- 
 out regarding the opinions of Cap, whose remarks 
 were now little heeded. 
 
 There was half an hour of uncertainty and 
 doubt, it is true, during which period the lead 
 was anxiously watched ; and then a feeling of 
 security came over all, and the weary slept with- 
 out dreaming of instant death. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 “ It is to be all made of sighs and tears : 
 
 It is to be all made of faith and service : 
 
 It is to be all made of fantasy — 
 
 All made of passion, and all made of wishes : 
 
 All adoration, duty, and observance ; 
 
 All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, 
 
 All purity, all trial, all observance.” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 It was near noon when the gale broke ; and 
 then its force abated as suddenly as its violence 
 had arisen. In less than two hours after the 
 wind fell, the surface of the lake, though still 
 agitated, was no longer glittering with foam ; and, 
 in double that time, the entire sheet presented 
 the ordinary scene of disturbed water, that was 
 unbroken by the violence of a tempest. Still the 
 waves came rolling incessantly toward the shore, 
 and the lines of breakers remained, though the 
 spray had ceased to fly: the combing of the 
 swells was more moderate, and all that there was 
 of violence proceeded from the impulsion of 
 wind that had abated. 
 
 As it was impossible to make head against 
 the sea that was still up, with the light opposing 
 air that blew from the eastward, all thoughts of 
 getting under way that afternoon were aban- 
 doned. Jasper, who had now quietly resumed 
 the command of the Scud, busied himself, how- 
 ever, in heaving up to the anchors, which were 
 lifted in succession. The hedges that backed 
 them w ere weighed, and every thing was got in 
 readiness for a prompt departure, as soon as the 
 state of the weather would allow. In the mean 
 time, they who had no concern with those duties 
 sought such means of amusement as their pecul- 
 iar circumstances allowed. 
 
 As is common with those who are unused to 
 the confinement of a vessel, Mabel cast wistful 
 eyes toward the shore ; nor was it long before 
 she expressed a wish that it were possible to 
 land. The Pathfinder was near her at the time, 
 and he assured her that nothing would be easier, 
 as they had a bark canoe on deck, which was 
 the best possible mode of conveyance to go 
 through a surf. After the usual doubts and mis- 
 givings, the sergeant was appealed to : his opinion 
 proved to be favorable, and preparations to carry 
 the whim into effect were immediately made. 
 
 The party that was to land consisted of Ser- 
 geant Dunham, his daughter, and the Pathfinder. 
 Accustomed to the canoe, Mabel took her seat 
 in the centre with great steadiness, her father was 
 placed in the bows, while the guide assumed the of- 
 fice of conductor, by steering in the stern. Thefe 
 was little need of impelling the canoe by means 
 of the paddle, for the rollers sent it forward, at 
 moments, with a violence that set every effort to 
 govern its movements at defiance. More than 
 once, ere the shore was reached, Mabel repented 
 of her temerity, but Pathfinder encouraged her, 
 and really manifested so much self-possession, 
 coolness, and strength of arm himself, that even 
 a female might have hesitated about owning all 
 her apprehensions. Our heroine was no coward, 
 and, while she felt the novelty of her situation, 
 she also experienced a fair proportion of its 
 wild delight. At moments,, indeed, her heart was 
 in her mouth, as the bubble of a boat floated on 
 the very crest of a foaming breaker, appearing 
 to skim the water like a swallow, and then she 
 flushed and laughed, as, left by the glancing ele- 
 ment they appeared to linger behind, ashamed of 
 having been outdone in the headlong race. A 
 few minutes sufficed for this excitement, for, 
 though the distance between the cutter and the 
 land considerably exceeded a quarter of a mile,, 
 the intermediate space was passed in a very few 
 minutes. 
 
118 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 On landing, the sergeant kissed his daughter 
 kindly, for he was so much of a soldier as always 
 to feel more at home on terra firma than when 
 afloat, and, takiDg his gun, he announced his in- 
 tention to pass an hour in quest of game. 
 
 “ Pathfinder will remain near you, girl, and no 
 doubt he will tell you some of the traditions of 
 this part of the world, or some of his own ex- 
 periences with the Mingoes. ” 
 
 The guide laughed, promised to have a care 
 of Mabel, and in a few minutes the father had as- 
 cended a steep acclivity, and disappeared in the 
 forest. The others took another direction, which, 
 after a few minutes of sharp ascent also, brought 
 them to a small naked point on the promontory, 
 where the eye overlooked an extensive and very 
 peculiar panorama. Here Mabel seated herself 
 on a fragment of fallen rock, to recover her breath 
 and strength, while her companion, on whose sin- 
 ews no personal exertion seemed to make any 
 impression, stood at her side, leaning in his own 
 and not ungraceful manner on his long rifle. Sev- 
 eral minutes passed, and neither spoke ; Mabel, 
 in particular, being lost in admiration of the view. 
 
 The position the two had attained, was suf- 
 ficiently elevated to command a wide reach of 
 the lake, which stretched away toward the north- 
 east in a boundless sheet, glittering beneath the 
 rays of an afternoon’s sun, and yet betraying the 
 remains of that agitation which it had endured 
 while tossed by the late tempest. The land set 
 founds to its limits, in a huge crescent, dis- 
 appearing in distance toward the southeast and 
 the north. Far as the eye could reach, nothing 
 but forest was visible, not even a solitary sign of 
 civilization breaking in upon the uniform and 
 grand magnificence of nature. The gale had 
 driven the Scud beyond the line of those forts 
 with which the French were then endeavoring to 
 gird the English North- American possessions; 
 for, following the channels of communication be- 
 tween the great lakes, their posts were on the banks 
 of the Niagara, while our adventurers had reached 
 a point many leagues westward of that celebrated 
 strait. The cutter rode at single anchor, with- 
 out the breakers, resembling some well-imagined 
 and accurately-executed toy, that was intended 
 rather for a glass case than for the struggles with 
 the elements which she had so lately gone through ; 
 while the canoe lay on the narrow beach, just out 
 of reach of the waves that came booming upon 
 the land, a speck upon the shingles. 
 
 “We are very far, here, from human habita- 
 tions ! ” exclaimed Mabel, when, after a long and 
 musing survey of the scene, its principal peculiari- 
 ties forced themselves on her active and ever- 
 
 brilliant imagination : “ this is, indeed, being on a 
 frontier ! ” 
 
 “ Have they more sightly scenes than this, near- 
 er the sea, and around their large towns ? ” de- 
 manded Pathfinder, with an interest he was apt to 
 discover in such a subject. 
 
 “ I will not say that ; there is more to remind 
 one of his fellow-beings there than here ; less, per- 
 haps, to remind one of God.” 
 
 “ Ay, Mabel, that is what my own feelings say. 
 
 I am but a poor hunter, I know ; untaught and 
 unlarned; but God is as near me, in this my 
 home, as he is near the king in his royal palace.” 
 
 “ Who can doubt it ? ” returned Mabel, look- 
 ing from the view up into the hard-featured but 
 honest face of her companion, though not with- 
 out surprise at the energy of his manner — “ One 
 feels nearer to God, in such a spot, I think, than 
 when the mind is distracted by the objects of the 
 towns.” 
 
 “You say all I wish to say myself, Mabel, 
 but in so much plainer speech that you make me 
 ashamed of wishing to let others know what I 
 feel on such matters. I have coasted this lake 
 ins’archof skins, afore the war, and have been 
 here already ; not at this very spot, for we landed 
 yonder where you may see the blasted oak that 
 stands above the cluster of hemlocks — ” 
 
 “ How ! Pathfinder, can you remember all 
 these trifles so accurately ? ” 
 
 “These are our streets and houses; our 
 churches and palaces. Remember them, indeed ! 
 I once made an appointment with the Big Sar- 
 pent, to meet at twelve o’clock at noon near the 
 foot of a certain pine, at the end of six months, 
 when neither of us was within three hundred 
 miles of the spot. The tree stood, and stands 
 still, unless the judgment of Providence has light- 
 ed on that too, in the midst of the forest, fifty 
 miles from any settlement, but in a most extraor- 
 dinary neighborhood for beaver.” 
 
 “And did you meet at that very spot and 
 hour? ” 
 
 “ Does the sun rise and set? When I reached 
 the tree, I found the Sarpent leaning against its 
 trunk, with torn leggings and muddied moccasins. 
 The Delaware had got into a swamp, and it wor- 
 ried him not a little to find his way out of it ; but, 
 as the sun which comes over the eastern hills in 
 the morning, goes down behind the western at 
 night, so was he true to time and place. No fear 
 of Chingachgook when there is either a friend or 
 an enemy in the case. He is equally sartain with 
 each.” 
 
 “ And where is the Delaware now ? — why is h« 
 not with us to-dar 0 ” 
 
SUGGESTIONS OF MARRIAGE. 
 
 “lie is scouting on the Mingo trail, where I 
 ought to have been too, but for a great human 
 infirmity. ” 
 
 “ You seem above, beyond, superior to all in- 
 firmity, Pathfinder ; I never yet met with a man 
 who appeared to be so little liable to the weak- 
 nesses of nature. ” 
 
 “If you mean in the way of health and 
 strength, Mabel, Providence has been kind to me ; 
 though I fancy the open air, long hunts, active 
 seoutings, forest fare, and the sleep of a good con- 
 science, may always keep the doctors at a dis- 
 tance. But I am human, arter all ; yes, I find Pm 
 very human in some of my feelin’s. ” 
 
 Mabel looked surprised, and it would be no 
 more than delineating the character of her sex, if 
 wc added that her sweet countenance expressed 
 a good deal of curiosity, too, though her tongue 
 was more discreet. 
 
 “ There is something bewitching in this wild 
 life of yours, Pathfinder,” she exclaimed, a tinge 
 of enthusiasm mantling her cheeks. “ I find I’m 
 fast getting to be a frontier girl, and am coming 
 to love all this grand silence of the woods. The 
 towns seem tame to me ; and, as my father will 
 probably pass the remainder of his days here, 
 where he has already lived so long, I begin to feel 
 that I should be happy to continue with him, and 
 not return to the sea-shore.” 
 
 “ The woods are never silent, Mabel, to such 
 as understand their meaning. Days at a time 
 have I travelled them alone, without feeling the 
 want of company; and, as for conversation, 
 for such as can comprehend their language, 
 there is no want of rational and instructive dis- 
 course.” 
 
 “ I believe you are happier when alone, Path- 
 finder, than when mingling with your fellow-crea- 
 tures.” 
 
 “ I will not say that — I will not say exactly 
 that ! I have seen the time when I have thought 
 that God was sufficient for me in the forest 
 and craved no more than his bounty and his 
 care. But other feelin’s have got uppermost, and 
 I suppose natur’ will have its way. All other 
 creatur’s mate, Mabel, and it was intended man 
 should do so, too. ” 
 
 “And have you never bethought you of seek- 
 ing a wife, Pathfinder, to share your fortunes ? ” 
 inquired the girl, with the directness and simplic- 
 ity that the pure of heart, and the undesigning, 
 are the most apt to manifest, and with that feel- 
 ing of affection which is inbred in her sex. “ To 
 me, it seems, you only want a home to return to, | 
 from your wanderings, to render your life com- 
 pletely happy. Were I a man, it would be my I 
 
 119 
 
 delight to roam through these forests at will, or 
 to sail over this beautiful lake.” 
 
 “ I understand you, Mabel ; and God bless you 
 for thinking of the welfare of men as humble as 
 we are. We have our pleasures, it is true, as 
 well as our gifts, but we might be happier; yes, 
 I do think we might be happier.” 
 
 “ Happier ! in what way, Pathfinder ? In 
 this pure air, with these cool and shaded forests 
 to wander through, this lovely lake to gaze at, 
 and sail upon, with clear consciences, and abun- 
 dance for all the real wants, men ought to be 
 nothing less than as perfectly happy as their in- 
 firmities will allow.” 
 
 “ Every creatur’ has its gifts, Mabel, and men 
 have theirn,” answered the guide, looking stealth- 
 ily at his beautiful companion, whose cheeks had 
 flushed and eyes brightened under the ardor of 
 feelings excited by the novelty of her striking 
 situation ; “ and all must obey them. Do you 
 see yonder pigeon that is just alightin’ on the 
 beach — here in a line with the fallen chestnut? ” 
 
 “ Certainly ; it is the only thing stirring with 
 life in it, besides ourselves, that is to be seen in 
 this vast solitude.” 
 
 “Not so, Mabel, not so; Providence makes 
 nothing that lives, to live quite alone. Here is 
 its mate, just rising on the wing ; it has been 
 feedin’ near the other beech, but it will not long 
 be separated from its companion.” 
 
 “ I understand you, Pathfinder,” returned 
 Mabel, smiling sweetly, though as calmly as if the 
 discourse was with her father. “But a hunter 
 may find a mate, even in this wild region. The 
 Indian girls are affectionate and true, I know, foi 
 such was the wife of Arrowhead, to a husband 
 who oftener frowned than smiled.” 
 
 “ That would never do, Mabel, and good would 
 never come of it. Kind must cling to kind, and 
 country to country, if one would find happiness. 
 If, indeed, I could meet with one like you, who 
 would consent to be a hunter’s wife, and who 
 would not scorn my ignorance and rudeness, then, 
 indeed, would all the toil of the past appear like 
 the sporting of the young deer, and all the future 
 like sunshine ! ” 
 
 “ One like me ! — A girl of my years and indis- 
 cretion would hardly make a fit companion for 
 the boldest scout and surest hunter on the lines ! ” 
 
 “ Ah ! Mabel, I fear me that I have been im- 
 proving a red-skin’s gifts with a pale-face’s 
 natur’ ! Such a character would insure a wife 
 in an Injin village.” 
 
 “Surely, surely, Pathfinder, you would not 
 think of choosing one as ignorant, as frivolous* 
 as vain, and as inexperienced as I, for your wife ! ” 
 
L20 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 Mabel would have added, “ ana as young,” but 
 an instinctive feeling of delicacy repressed the 
 words. 
 
 “ And why not, Mabel ? If you are ignorant 
 of frontier usages, you know more than all of us 
 of pleasant anecdotes and town customs ; as for 
 frivolous, I know not what it means, but if it 
 signifies beauty, ah’s me ! I fear it is no fault in 
 my eyes. Vain you are not, as is seen by the 
 kind manner in which you listen to all my idle 
 tales about scoutings and trails ; and as for ex- 
 perience, that will come with years. Besides, 
 Mabel, I fear men think little of these matters 
 when they are about to take wives — I do.” 
 
 “ Pathfinder — your words — your looks — surely 
 all this is meant in trifling — you speak in pleas- 
 antry ! ” 
 
 “ To me it is always agreeable to be near you, 
 Mabel, and I should sleep sounder this blessed 
 night, than I have done for a week past, could I 
 think that you find such discourse as pleasant as 
 I do.” 
 
 We shall not say that Mabel Dunham had not 
 believed herself a favorite with the guide. This 
 her quick feminine sagacity had early discovered, 
 and perhaps she had occasionally thought there 
 had mingled with his regard and friendship some 
 of that manly tenderness which the ruder sex 
 must be coarse indeed not to show, on occasions, 
 to the gentler; but the idea that he seriously 
 sought her for his wife had never before crossed 
 the mind of the spirited and ingenuous girl. 
 Now, however, a gleam of something like the 
 truth broke in upon her imagination, less induced 
 by the words of her companion, perhaps, than by 
 his manner. Looking earnestly into the rugged, 
 honest countenance of the scout, Mabel’s own 
 features became concerned and grave, and, when 
 she spoke again, it was with a gentleness of man- 
 ner that attracted him to her even more power- 
 fully than the words themselves were calculated 
 to repel. 
 
 “ You and I should understand each other, 
 Pathfinder,” she said, with an earnest sincerity, 
 “ nor should there be any cloud between us. 
 You are too upright and frank to meet with any 
 thing but sincerity and frankness in return. 
 Surely — surely, all this means nothing — has no 
 other connection with your feelings, than such a 
 friendship as one of your wisdom and character 
 would naturally feel for a girl like me ! ” 
 
 “ I believe it’s all as nat’ral, Mabel ; yes, I 
 lo ; the sergeant tells me he had such feelings 
 toward your own mother, and I think I’ve seen 
 something like it, in the young people I have, 
 from time to time, guided through the wilderness. 
 
 Yes, yes — I dare say it’s all nat’ral enough, and 
 that makes it come so easy, and is a great com 
 fort to me.” 
 
 “ Pathfinder, your words make me uneasy I 
 Speak plainer, or change the subject for ever. 
 You do not — cannot mean that — you — cannot 
 wish me to understand — ” even the tongue of 
 the spirited Mabel faltered, and she shrank with 
 maiden shame, from adding what she wished so 
 earnestly to say. Rallying her courage, however, 
 and determined to know all as soon and as plainly 
 as possible, after a moment’s hesitation she con- 
 tinued — “I mean, Pathfinder, that you do not 
 wish me to understand that you seriously think 
 of me as a wife ? ” 
 
 “ I do, Mabel ; that’s it — that’s just it, and 
 you have put the matter in a much better point 
 of view than I, with my forest gifts and frontier 
 ways, would ever be able to do. The sargeant 
 and I have concluded on the matter, if it is agree- 
 able to you, as he thinks is likely will be the case, 
 though I doubt my own power to please one who 
 deserves the best husband America can produce.” 
 
 Mabel’s countenance changed from uneasiness 
 to surprise, and then, by a transition still quicker, 
 from surprise to pain. 
 
 “ My father ! ” she exclaimed. “ My dear 
 father has thought of my becoming your wife. 
 Pathfinder ! ” 
 
 “ Yes, he has, Mabel ; he has indeed. He has 
 even thought such a thing might be agreeable to 
 you, and has almost encouraged me to fancy it 
 might be true.” 
 
 “But, you, yourself — you certainly can care 
 nothing whether this singular expectation shall 
 ever be realized or not ? ” 
 
 “ Anan ? ” 
 
 “I mean, Pathfinder, that you have talked 
 of this match more to oblige my father than any 
 thing else ; that your feelings are no way con- 
 cerned, let my answer be what it may ? ” 
 
 The scout looked earnestly into the beautiful 
 face of Mabel, which had flushed with the ardor 
 and novelty of her sensations, and it was impossi- 
 ble to mistake the intense admiration that be- 
 trayed itself in every lineament of his ingenuous 
 countenance. 
 
 “ I have often thought myself happy, Mabel, 
 when ranging the woods, on a successful hunt, 
 breathing the pure air of the hills, and filled with 
 vigor and health, but I now feel that it has all 
 been idleness and vanity compared with the 
 delight it would give me to know that you though! 
 better of me than you think of most others.” 
 
 “ Better of you ! — I do indeed think better of 
 you, Pathfinder, than of most others — I am not 
 
THE HUNTER REJECTED. 
 
 certain that I do not think better of you than of 
 any other; for your truth, honesty, simplicity, 
 justice, and courage, are scarcely equalled by 
 any of earth.” 
 
 “Ah! Mabel! — these are sweet and encour- 
 aging words from you, and the sergeant, a’ter all, 
 was not as near wrong as I feared.” 
 
 “ Nay, Pathfinder — in the name of all that is 
 aacred and just, do not let us misunderstand each 
 other in a matter of so much importance. While 
 I esteem, respect — nay, reverence you, almost as 
 much as I reverence my own dear father, it is 
 impossible that I should ever become your wife 
 —that I—” 
 
 The change in her companion’s countenance 
 was so sudden and so great, that the moment the 
 effect of what she had uttered became visible in 
 the face of the Pathfinder, Mabel arrested her 
 own words, notwithstanding her strong desire to 
 be explicit, the reluctance with which she could 
 at any time cause pain being sufficient of itself to 
 induce the pause. Neither spoke for some time, 
 the shade of disappointment that crossed the 
 rugged lineaments of the hunter amounting so 
 nearly to anguish, as to frighten his companion, 
 while the sensation of choking became so strong 
 in the Pathfinder, that he fairly griped his throat, 
 like one who sought physical relief for physical 
 •uffering*. The convulsive manner in which his 
 Angers worked actually struck the alarmed girl 
 with a feeling of awe. 
 
 “Nay, Pathfinder,” Mabel eagerly added, the 
 instant she could command her voice — “ I may 
 have said more than I mean, for all things of this 
 nature are possible, and women, they say, are 
 never sure of their own minds. What I wish you 
 to understand is, that it is not likely that you and 
 I should ever think of each other, as man and 
 wife ought to think of each other.” 
 
 “ I do not — I shall never think in that w r ay 
 again, Mabel — ” gasped forth the Pathfinder, who 
 appeared to utter his words like one just raised 
 above the pressure of some suffocating substance. 
 “No — no — I shall never think of you, or any one 
 else, again, in that way.” 
 
 “ P athfinder — dear Pathfinder — understand 
 me — do not attach more meaning to my words 
 xhan I do myself-*— a match like that would be un- 
 wise — unnatural, perhaps.” 
 
 “Yes, unnat’ral — ag’in natur’ ; and so I 
 told the sergeant, but he would have it other- 
 wise.” 
 
 “Pathfinder ! — Oh ! this is worse than I could 
 have imagined — take my hand, excellent Path- 
 finder, and let me see that you do not hate me. 
 For God’s sake, smile upon me again ! ” 
 
 121 
 
 “Hate you, Mabel! — Smile upon you! — Ah’a 
 me ! ” 
 
 “ Nay, give me your hand ; your hardy, true, 
 and manly hand — both, both, Pathfinder, for I 
 shall not be easy until I feel certain that we are 
 friends again, and that all this has been a mis- 
 take.” 
 
 “ Mabel,” said the guide, looking wistfully 
 into the face of the generous and impetuous girl, 
 as she held his two hard and sunburnt hands in 
 her own pretty and delicate fingers, and laughing 
 in his own silent and peculiar manner, while an- 
 guish gleamed over lineaments which seemed in- 
 capable of deception, even while agitated with 
 emotions so conflicting, “Mabel, the sargeant 
 was wrong ! ” 
 
 The pent-up feelings could endure no more, 
 and the tears rolled down the cheeks of the scout 
 like rain. Hi3 fingers again worked convulsively 
 at his throat, and his breast heaved, as if it pos- 
 sessed a tenant of which it would be rid, by any 
 effort, however desperate. 
 
 “Pathfinder! — Pathfinder!” Mabel almost 
 shrieked, — “anything but this — anything but 
 this. Speak to me, Pathfinder, — smile again — 
 say one kind word — any thing to prove you can 
 forgive me.” 
 
 “The sargeant was wrong!” exclaimed the 
 guide, laughing amid his agony, in a way to ter- 
 rify his companion by the unnatural mixture of 
 anguish and light-heartedness. “ I knew it — I 
 knew it, and said it ; yes, the sargeant was wrong, 
 a’ter all.” 
 
 “We can be friends, though we cannot be 
 man and wife,” continued Mabel, almost as much 
 disturbed as her companion, scarce knowing what 
 she said; “we can always be friends, and always 
 will.” 
 
 “ I thought the sargeant was mistaken,” re- 
 sumed the Pathfinder, when a great effort had 
 enabled him to command himself, “ for I did not 
 think my gifts were such as would please the 
 fancy of a town-bred gal. It would have been 
 better, Mabel, had he not over-persuaded me into 
 a different notion ; and it might have been bet- 
 ter, too, had you not been so pleasant and friend- 
 ly, like ; yes, it would.” 
 
 “If I thought any error of mine had raised 
 false expectations in you, Pathfinder, however 
 unintentionally on my part, I should never for- 
 give myself; for, believe me, I would rather en- 
 dure pain in my own feelings than you should 
 suffer.” 
 
 “ That’s just it, Mabel ; that’s just it. These 
 speeches and opinions, spoken in so soft a voice, 
 and in a way I’m so unused to in the wooda. 
 
122 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 have done the mischief. But I now see plainly, 
 and begin to understand the difference between 
 us better, and will strive to keep down thought, 
 and to go abroad ag’in as I used to do, looking 
 for the game and the inimy. Ah’s me! Mabel, 
 
 I have indeed been on a false trail since we met ! ” 
 
 “ But you will now travel on the true one. In 
 a little while you will forget all this, and think of 
 me as a friend who owes you her life.” 
 
 “ This may be the way in the towns, but I 
 doubt if it’s nat’ral to the woods. With us, when 
 the eye sees a lovely sight, it is apt to keep it 
 long in view, or, when the mind takes in an up- 
 right and proper feeling, it is loath to part with it.” 
 
 “ But it is not a proper feeling that you should 
 love me, nor am I a lovely sight. You will for- 
 get it all, when you come seriously to recollect 
 that I am altogether unsuited to be your wife.” 
 
 “ So I told the sargeant — but he would have 
 it otherwise. I knew you was too young and 
 beautiful for one of middle age, like myself, and 
 who never was comely to look at, even in youth ; 
 and then your ways have not been my ways, nor 
 would a hunter’s cabin be a fitting place for one 
 who was edicated among chiefs, as it were. If 
 I were younger and comelier, though, like Jas- 
 per F.au-douce — ” 
 
 “ Never mind Jasper Eau-douce,” interrupted 
 Mabel, impatiently ; “ we can talk of something 
 else.” 
 
 “ Jasper is a worthy lad, Mabel ; ay, and a 
 comely,” returned the guileless guide, looking 
 earnestly at the girl, as if he distrusted her 
 judgment in speaking slightingly of his friend. 
 “ Were I only half as comely as Jasper Western, 
 my misgivings in this affair would not have been 
 so great, and they might not have been so true.” 
 
 “We will not talk of Jasper Western,” re- 
 peated Mabel, the color mounting to her tem- 
 ples ; “ he may be good enough in a gale or on 
 the lake, but he is not good enough to talk of 
 here.” 
 
 “ I fear me, Mabel, he is better than the man 
 who is likely to be your husband, though the 
 sargeant says that never can take place. But 
 the sargeant was wrong once, and he may be 
 wrong twice.” 
 
 “ And who is likely to be my husband, Path- 
 finder ? This is scarcely less strange than what 
 bas just passed between us ! ” 
 
 “ x know it is nat’ral for like to seek like, and, 
 for them that have consorted much with officers’ 
 ladies, to wish to be officers’ ladies themselves. 
 But, Mabel, I may speak plainly to you, I know, 
 and I hope my words will not give you pain, for, 
 now I understand what it is to be disappointed 
 
 in such feelings, I wouldn’t #ish to cause even a 
 Mingo sorrow on this head. But happiness is 
 not always to be found in a marquee, any more 
 than in a tent ; and, though the officers’ quarters 
 may look more tempting than the rest of the 
 barracks, there is often great misery between 
 husband and wife inside of their doors.” 
 
 “ I do not doubt it in the least, Pathfinder ; 
 and, did it rest with me to decide, I would sooner 
 follow you to some cabin in the woods, and share 
 your fortune, whether it might be better or worse, 
 than go inside the door of any officer I know, 
 with an intention of remaining there as its mas- 
 ter’s wife.” 
 
 “Mabel, this is not what Lundie hopes or 
 Lundie thinks ! ” 
 
 “ And what care I for Lundie? He is major 
 of the 55th, and may command his men to wheel 
 and march about as he pleases, but he cannot 
 compel me to wed the greatest or the meanest # 
 of his mess : besides, what can you know of Lun 
 die’s wishes on such a subject ? ” 
 
 “From Lundie’s own mouth. The sargeant 
 had told him that he wished me for a son-in-law ; 
 and the major, being an old and a true friend, 
 conversed with me on the subject : he put it to 
 me plainly, whether it would not be more giner- 
 ous in me to let an officer succeed, than to strive 
 to make you share a hunter’s fortune. I owned the 
 truth, I did ; and that was, that I thought it might , 
 but when he told me that the quartermastei 
 would be his choice, I would not abide by the 
 conditions. No— no — Mabel ; I know Davy Muir 
 well, and though he may make you a lady, he 
 can never make you a happy woman, or himself 
 a gentleman. I say this honestly, I do ; for I now 
 plainly see that the sargeant has been wrong.” I 
 
 “ My father has been very wrong if he has 
 said or done aught to cause you sorrow, Path- 
 finder ; and so great is my respect for you, so 
 sincere my friendship, that were it not for one 
 — I mean that no person need fear Lieutenant 
 Muir’s influence with me. I would rather remain 
 as I am to my dying day, than become a lady at 
 the cost of being his wife.” 
 
 “I do not think you would say that which 
 you do not feel, Mabel,” returned Pathfinder, ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 “Not at such a moment, on such a subject, 
 and least of all to you. No ; Lieutenant Muir 
 may find wives where he can — my name shall 
 never be on his catalogue.” 
 
 “ Thank you — thank you for that, Mabel ; for, 
 though there is no longer any hope for me, I 
 could never be happy were you to take to the 
 quartermaster. I feared the commission might 
 
A LOVER’S DREAM. 
 
 123 
 
 eount for something, I did, and 1 know the man. 
 It is not jealousy that makes me speak in this 
 manner, but truth, for I know the man. Now, 
 were you to fancy a desarving youth, one like 
 Jasper Western, for instance — ” 
 
 “ Why always mention Jasper Eau-douce, 
 Pathfinder ? he can have no concern with our 
 friendship ; let us talk of yourself, and of the 
 manner in which you intend to pass the winter.” 
 
 “ Ah’s me ! — I’m little worth at the best, Ma- 
 bel, unless it may be on a trail, or with the rifle ; 
 and less worth now that I’ve discovered the sar- 
 geant’s mistake. There is no need, therefore, of 
 talking of me. It has been very pleasant to me 
 to be near you so long, and even to fancy that 
 the sargeant was right ; but that is all over now. 
 I shall go down the lake with Jasper, and then 
 there will be business to occupy us, and that will 
 keep useless thoughts out of the mind.” 
 
 “And you will forget this — forget me — no, 
 not forget me either, Pathfinder; but you will 
 resume your old pursuits, and cease to think a 
 girl of sufficient importance to disturb your 
 peace ? ” 
 
 “ I never know’d it afore, Mabel, but girls, as 
 you call them, though gals is the name I’ve been 
 taught to use, are of more account in this life 
 than I could have believed. Now, afore I know’d 
 you, the new-born babe did not sleep more sweet- 
 ly than I used to could ; my head was no sooner 
 on the root, or the stone, or mayhap on the 
 skin, than all was lost to the senses, unless it 
 might be to go over in the night the business 
 of the day, in a dream, like ; and there I lay till 
 the moment came to be stirring, and the swal- 
 lows were not more certain to be on the wing 
 with the light, than I to be afoot at the moment 
 I wished to be. All this seemed a gift, and 
 might be calculated on, even in the midst of a 
 Mingo camp ; for I’ve been outlying, in my time, 
 in the very villages of the vagabonds.” 
 
 “ And all this will return to you, Pathfinder ; 
 for one so upright and sincere will never waste 
 his happiness on a mere fancy. You will dream 
 again of your hunts, of the deer you have slain, 
 and of the beaver you have taken.” 
 
 “ Ah’s me, Mabel, I wash never to dream 
 again ! Before we met I had a sort of pleasure 
 in following up the hounds in fancy, as it might 
 be ; and even in striking a trail of the Iroquois — 
 nay, I’ve been in skrimmages and ambushments 
 in thought, like, and found satisfaction in it, ac- 
 cording to my gifts ; but all those things have 
 .ost their charms since I’ve made acquaintance 
 with you. Now, I think no longer of any thing 
 rude in my dreams, but, the very last night we 
 
 stayed in the garrison, I imagined I had a cabin 
 in a grove of sugar maples, and at the root of 
 every tree was a Mabel Dunham, while the birds 
 that were among the branches sang ballads, in- 
 stead of the notes that natur’ gave, and even the 
 deer stopped to listen. I tried to shoot a fa’an, 
 but killdeer missed fire, and the creatur’ laughed 
 in my face, as pleasantly as a young girl laughs 
 in her merriment, and then it bounded away, 
 looking back as if expecting me to follow.” 
 
 “ No more of this, Pathfinder— we’ll talk no 
 more of these things,” said Mabel, dashing the 
 tears from her eyes ; for the simple, earnest man- 
 ner in which this hardy woodsman betrayed the 
 deep hold she had taken of his feelings, nearly 
 proved too much for her own generous heart. 
 “Now let us look for my father; he cannot be 
 distant, as I heard his gun quite near.” 
 
 “ The sargeant was wrong — yes, he was wrong, 
 and it’s of no use to attempt to make the dove 
 consort with the wolf.” 
 
 “Here comes my dear father,” interrupted 
 Mabel ; “ let us look cheerful and happy, Path- 
 finder, as such good friends ought to look, and 
 keep each other’s secrets.” 
 
 A pause succeeded ; the sergeant’s loot was 
 heard crushing the dried twigs hard by, and then 
 his form appeared shoving aside the bushes of a 
 copse quite near. As he issued into the open 
 ground the old soldier scrutinized his daughter 
 and her companion, and, speaking good-naturedly, 
 he said : 
 
 “Mabel, child, you are young and light of 
 foot— look for a bird I’ve shot that fell just be- 
 yond the thicket of young hemlocks on the shore ; 
 and, as Jasper is showing signs of an intention 
 of getting under way, you need not take the 
 trouble to climb up this hill again, but we will 
 meet you on the beach in a few minutes.” 
 
 Mabel obeyed, bounding down the hill with 
 the elastic step of youth and health. But, not- 
 withstanding the lightness of her steps, the heart 
 of the girl was heavy, and no sooner was she hid 
 from observation by the thicket, than she threw 
 herself on the root of a tree and wept as if her 
 heart would break. The sergeant watched her, 
 until she disappeared, with a father’s pride, and 
 then turned to his companion with a smile as kind 
 and as familiar as his habits would allow him to 
 use toward any. 
 
 “ She has her mother’s lightness and activity } 
 my friend, with somewhat of her father’s force,’* 
 he said. “ Her mother was not quite as hand 
 some, I think myself ; but the Dunhams were al- 
 ways thought comely, whether men or women. 
 Well, Pathfinder, I take it for granted you’ve not 
 
124 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 overlooked the opportunity, but have spoken 
 plainly to the girl? Women like frankness in 
 matters of this sort.” 
 
 « I believe Mabel and I understand each other 
 at last, sargeant,” returned the other, looking an- 
 other way to avoid the soldier’s face. 
 
 “So much the better. Some people fancy 
 that a little doubt and uncertainty make love all 
 the livelier, but I am one of those who think the 
 plainer the tongue speaks the easier the mind will 
 comprehend. — Was Mabel surprised? ” 
 
 “I fear she was, sargeant; I fear she was 
 taken quite by surprise — yes, I do.” 
 
 “ Well, well, surprises in love are like an am- 
 bush in war, and quite as lawful ; though it is 
 not as easy to tell when a woman is surprised as 
 to tell when it happens to an enemy.— Mabel did 
 not run away, my worthy friend, did she ? ” 
 
 « No, sargeant, Mabel did not try to escape ; 
 that I can say with a clear conscience.” 
 
 “ I hope the girl was not too willing, neither ! 
 Her mother was shy and coy for a month, at 
 l eas t_but frankness, after all, is a recommenda- 
 tion in man or woman.” 
 
 “ That it is— that it is— and judgment, too.” 
 
 “ You are not to look for too much judgment 
 in a young creature of twenty, Pathfinder, but it 
 will come with experience. A mistake in you, or 
 in me, for instance, might not be so easily over- 
 looked, but in a girl of Mabel’s years one is not 
 to strain at a gnat lest they swallow a camel.” 
 
 The muscles of the listener’s face twitched as 
 the sergeant was thus delivering his sentiments, 
 though the former had now recovered a portion 
 of that stoicism which formed so large a part of 
 his character, and which he had probably imbibed 
 from long association with the Indians. His eyes 
 rose and fell, and once a gleam shot athwart his 
 hard features, as if he were about to indulge in 
 his peculiar laugh ; but the joyous feeling, if it 
 really existed, was as quickly lost in a look allied 
 to anguish. It was this unusual mixture of wild 
 and keen mental agony, with native, simple joy- 
 ousness, that had most struck Mabel, who, in the 
 interview just related, had a dozen times been on 
 the point of believing that her suitor’s heart was 
 only lightly touched, as images of happiness and 
 humor gleamed over a mind that was almost in- 
 fantine in its simplicity and nature ; an impres- 
 sion, however, that was soon driven away by the 
 discovery of emotions so painful and so deep that 
 they seemed to harrow the very soul. Indeed, in 
 this respect, the Pathfinder was a mere child : un- 
 practised in the ways of the world, he had no idea 
 of concealing a thought of any kind, and his 
 mind received and reflected each emotion with 
 
 the pliability and readiness of that period of life ; 
 the infant scarcely yielding its wayward imagina- 
 tion to the passing impression with greater facility , 
 than this man, so simple in all his personal feel- ! 
 ings, so stern, stoical, masculine, and severe, in 
 all that touched his ordinary pursuits. 
 
 “You say true, sargeant,” Pathfinder an- 
 swered — “ a mistake in one like you is a more se- 
 rious matter.” 
 
 “You will find Mabel sincere and honest in 
 the end, give her but a little time.” 
 
 “ Ah’s me, sargeant ! ” 
 
 “ A man of your merits would make an im- 
 pression on a rock, give him time, Pathfinder.” 
 
 “Sargeant Dunham, we are old fellow cam- • 
 paigners — that is, as campaigns are carried on 
 here in the wilderness ; and we have done so 
 many kind acts to each other that we can afford 
 to be candid — what has caused you to believe fl 
 that a girl like Mabel could ever fancy one as 
 rude as I am ? ” 
 
 “ What ? — why a variety of reasons, and good 1 
 reasons, too, my friend. Those same acts of 
 kindness, perhaps, and the campaigns you men- i 
 tion ; moreover, you are my sworn and tried com- 1 
 rade.” 
 
 “ All this sounds well, so far as you and I be 
 consarned, but they do not touch the case of 
 your pretty da’ghter. She may think these very I 
 campaigns have destroyed the little comeliness I 
 may once have had, and I am not quite sartain I 
 that being an old friend of her father would lead 1 
 any young maiden’s mind into a particular affec- 1 
 tion for a suitor. Like loves like, I tell you, sar- J 
 geant, and my gifts are not altogether the gifts 1 
 of Mabel Dunham.” 
 
 “These are some of your old modest qualms, fl 
 Pathfinder, and will do you no credit with the 
 girl. Women distrust men who distrust them- 4 
 selves, and take to men who distrust nothing, i 
 Modesty is a capital thing in a recruit, I grant { 
 you, or in a young subaltern who has just joined, /j 
 for it prevents his railing at the non-commissioned | 
 officers before he knows what to rail at ; I’m not i 
 sure it is out of place in a commissary or a par- 
 son, but it’s the devil and all when it gets pos- 
 session of either a real soldier or a lover. Have >. 
 as little to do with it as possible if you would win 
 a woman’s heart. As for your doctrine that like 
 loves like, it is as wrong as possible in matters of 
 this sort. If like loved like, women would love j 
 one another, and men also. No — no — like loves- 
 dislike ” — the sergeant was merely a scholar of 
 the camp— “ and you have nothing to fear from 
 Mabel on that score. Look at Lieutenant Muir 
 the man has had five wives already, they tell me, 
 
SERGEANT DUNHAM’S ADVICE. 
 
 125 
 
 and there is no more modesty in him than there is 
 in a cat-o’-nine-tails.” 
 
 “ Lieutenant Muir will never be the husband 
 of Mabel Dunham, let him ruffle his feathers as 
 ' much as he may.” 
 
 “ That is a sensible remark of yours, Path- 
 finder, for my mind is made up that you shall be 
 my son-in-law. If I were an officer myself, Mr. 
 Muir might have some chance ; but time has 
 placed one door between my child and myself, 
 and I don’t intend there shall be that of a mar-* 
 quee also.” 
 
 “ Sargeant, we must let Mabel follow her own 
 fancy ; she is young and light of heart, and God 
 forbid that any wish of mine should lay the weight 
 of a feather on a mind that is all gayety now, or 
 take one note of happiness from her laughter.” 
 
 “ Have you conversed freely with the girl ? ” 
 the sergeant demanded, quickly, and with some 
 asperity of manner. 
 
 Pathfinder was too honest to deny a truth 
 plain as that which the answer required, and yet 
 too honorable to betray Mabel, and expose her to 
 the resentment of one whom he well knew to be 
 stem in his anger. 
 
 “We have laid open our minds,” he said, 
 “and, though Mabel’s is one that any man might 
 love to look at, I find little there, sargeant, to 
 make me think any better of myself.” 
 
 “ The girl has not dared to refuse you — to re- 
 fuse her father’s best friend ? ” 
 
 Pathfinder turned his face away to conceal 
 the look of anguish that consciousness told him 
 was passing athwart it, but he continued the dis- 
 course in his own quiet, manly tones. 
 
 “ Mabel is too kind to refuse any thing, or to 
 utter harsh words to a dog. I have not put the 
 question in a way to be downright refused, sar- 
 geant.” 
 
 “And did you expect my daughter to jump 
 into your arms before you asked her? She 
 would not have been her mother’s child had she 
 done any such thing, nor do I think she would 
 have been mine. The Dunhams like plain deal- 
 ing as well as the king’s majesty, but they are no 
 jumpers. Leave me to manage this matter for you, 
 Pathfinder, and there shall be no unnecessary 
 delay. I’ll speak to Mabel myself this very even- 
 ing, using your name as principal in the affair.” 
 
 “I’d rather not — I’d rather not, sargeant. 
 Leave the matter to Mabel and me, and I think 
 all will come^right in the ind. Young gals be 
 like timorsome birds, they do not over-relish 
 being hurried or spoken harshly to, neither. 
 Leave the matter to Mabel and me.” 
 
 “ On one condition I will, my friend and that 
 
 is, that you promise me, on the honor of a scout, 
 that you will put the matter plainly to Mabel, 
 the first suitable opportunity, and no mincing of 
 words.” 
 
 “ I will ask her, sargeant — yes, I will ask her, 
 Jm condition that you promise not to meddle in 
 the affair — yes, I will promise to ask Mabel the 
 question whether she will marry me, even though 
 she laugh in my face at my doing so, on that 
 condition.” 
 
 Sergeant Dunham gave the desired promise 
 very cheerfully, for he had completely wrought 
 himself up into the belief that the man he so 
 much esteemed and respected himself, must bo 
 acceptable to his daughter. He had married a 
 woman much younger than himseL r , and he saw 
 no unfitness in the respective years of the intend- 
 ed couple. Mabel was educated so much above 
 him, too, that he was not aware of the difference 
 which actually existed between the parent and 
 child, in this respect ; for it is one of the most 
 unpleasant features in the intercourse between 
 knowledge and ignorance, taste and unsophistica- 
 tion, refinement and vulgarity, that the higher 
 qualities are often necessarily subjected to the 
 judgments of those w r ho have absolutely no per- 
 ception of their existence. It followed that Ser- 
 geant Dunham was not altogether qualified to ap- 
 preciate his daughter’s tastes, or to form a very 
 probable conjecture of the direction taken by 
 those feelings, which oftener depend on impulses 
 and passion than on reason. Still, the worthy 
 soldier was not so wrong in his estimate of the 
 Pathfinder’s chances, as might at first appear. 
 Knowing, as he well did, all the sterling qualities 
 of the man, his truth, integrity of purpose, cour- 
 age, self-devotion, disinterestedness, it was far 
 from unreasonable to suppose that qualities like 
 these would produce a deep impression on any 
 female heart, where there was an opportunity to 
 acquire a knowledge of their existence ; and 
 the father erred principally in fancying that the 
 daughter might know, as it might be, by intuition, 
 what he himself had acquired by years of inter- 
 course and adventure. 
 
 As Pathfinder and his military friend descended 
 the hill to the shore of the lake, the discourse did 
 not flag. The latter continued to persuade the 
 former that his diffidence alone prevented com- 
 plete success with Mabel, and that he had only 
 to persevere in order to prevail. Pathfinder was 
 much too modest by nature, and had been too plain- 
 ly, though so delicately, discouraged, in the recent 
 interview, to believe all he heard ; still the father 
 used so many arguments that seemed plausible, 
 and it was so grateful to fancy that the daughter 
 
126 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 might yet be his, the reader is not to be surprised 
 when he is told that this unsophisticated being 
 did not view Mabel’s recent conduct in precisely 
 the light in which he may be inclined to view it 
 himself. He did not credit all that the sergeant 
 told him, it is true ; but he began to think virgin 
 coyness, and ignorance of her own feelings, might 
 have induced Mabel to use the language she had. 
 
 “ The quartermaster is no favorite,” said 
 Pathfinder, in answer to one of his companion’s 
 remarks. u Mabel will never look on him as 
 more than one who has had four or five wives al- 
 ready.” 
 
 “ Which is more than his share. A man may 
 marry twice, without offence to good morals and 
 decency, I allow, but four times is an aggrava- 
 tion.” 
 
 “ I should think even marrying once, what 
 Master Cap calls a circumstance ! ” put in Path- 
 finder, laughing in his quiet way, for, by this 
 time, his spirits had recovered some of their buoy- 
 ancy. 
 
 “ It is, indeed, my friend, and a most solemn 
 circumstance too. If it were not that Mabel is 
 to be your wife, I would advise you to remain sin- 
 gle. But here is the girl herself, and discretion 
 ia the word.” 
 
 “ Ah’s me ! sargeant, I fear you are mista- 
 ken ! ” 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 “ Thus was this place 
 A happy rural seat of various view.” 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Mabel was in waiting on the beach, and the 
 canoe was soon launched. Pathfinder carried the 
 party out through the surf in the same skilful 
 manner he had brought it in ; and, though Ma- 
 bel’s color heightened with excitement, and her 
 heart seemed often ready to leap out of her mouth 
 again, they reached the side of the Scud without 
 having received even a drop of spray. 
 
 Ontario is like a quick-tempered man, sudden 
 to be angered, and as soon appeased. The sea 
 had already fallen, and, though the breakers 
 bounded the shore as far as the eye could reach, 
 it was merely in lines of brightness, that appeared 
 and vanished like the returning waves produced 
 by a stone that has been dropped into a pool. 
 The cable of the Scud was scarce seen above the 
 water, and Jasper had already hoisted his sails, 
 in readiness to depart, as soon as the expected 
 breeze from the shore should fill the canvas. 
 
 It was just sunset as the cutter’s mainsail 
 
 flapped, and its stem began to sever the water. 
 The air was light and southerly, and the head of 
 the vessel was kept looking up along the south 
 shore, it being the intention to get to the east- 
 ward again, as fast as possible. The night that 
 succeeded was quiet, and the rest of those who 
 slept, deep and tranquil. 
 
 Some difficulty occurred concerning the com- 
 mand of the vessel, but the matter had been final- 
 ly settled by an amicable compromise. As the 
 distrust of Jasper was far from being appeased, 
 Cap retained a supervisory power, while the 
 young man was allowed to work the craft, subject 
 at all times to the control and interference of the 
 old seaman. To this Jasper consented, in prefer- 
 ence to exposing Mabel any longer to the dangers 
 of their present situation ; for, now that the vio- 
 lence of the elements had ceased, he well knew 
 that the Montcalm would be in search of them. 
 He had the discretion, however, not to reveal his 
 apprehensions on this head, for it happened fhat 
 the very means he deemed the best to escape the 
 enemy, were those which would be most likely to 
 awaken new suspicions of his honesty, in the 
 minds of those who held the power to defeat his 
 intentions. In other words, Jasper believed that 
 the gallant young Frenchman who commanded 
 the ship of the enemy, would quit his anchorage 
 under the fort of Niagara, and stand up the lake, 
 as soon as the wind abated, in order to ascertain 
 the fate of the Scud ; keeping mid-way between 
 the two shores, as the best means of commanding 
 a broad view ; and that, on his part, it would be 
 expedient to hug one coast or the other, not only 
 to avoid a meeting, but as affording a chance of 
 passing without detection, by blending his sails 
 and spars with objects on the land. He preferred 
 the south, because it was the weather shore, and 
 because he thought it was that which the enemy 
 would the least expect him to take, though it ne- 
 cessarily led near his settlements, and in front 
 of one of the strongest posts he held in that part 
 of the world. 
 
 Of all this, however, Cap was happily igno- 
 rant, and the sergeant’s mind was too much 
 occupied with the details of his military trust to 
 enter into these niceties, which so properly be- 
 longed to another profession. No opposition was 
 made, therefore, and, ere morning, Jasper had 
 apparently dropped quietly into all his former 
 authority, issuing his orders freely, and meeting 
 with obedience without hesitation or cavil. 
 
 The appearance of day brought all on board 
 on deck again, and, as is usual with adventurers 
 on the water, the opening horizon was curiously 
 examined, as objects started out of the obscurity 
 
A TALE OF NIAGARA. 
 
 127 
 
 and the panorama brightened under the growing 
 light. East, west, and north, nothing was visible 
 but water, glittering in the rising sun ; but, south- 
 ward, stretched the endless belt of woods that 
 then held Ontario in a setting of forest verdure. 
 Suddenly an opening appeared ahead, and then 
 the massive walls of a chateau-looking house, 
 with outworks, bastions, block-houses, and pali- 
 sadoes, frowned on a headland that bordered the 
 outlet of a broad stream. Just as the fort be- 
 came visible, a little cloud rose over it, and the 
 white ensign of France was seen fluttering from 
 a lofty flag-staff. 
 
 Cap gave an ejaculation as he witnessed this 
 ungrateful exhibition, and he cast a quick, sus- 
 picious glance at his brother-in-law. 
 
 “ The dirty table-cloth hung up to the air, as 
 my name is Charles Cap ! ” he muttered, “ and 
 
 we hugging this d d shore, as it were our wife 
 
 and children, met on the return from an India 
 v’y’ge! Ilarkee, Jasper, are you in search of a 
 cargo of frogs, that you keep so near in to this 
 New France ? ” 
 
 u I hug the land, sir, in the hope of passing 
 the enemy’s ship without being seen, for I think 
 she must be somewhere down here to leeward.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay ; this sounds well, and I hope it may 
 turn out as you say. I trust there is no under- 
 tow here ? ” 
 
 “We are on a weather shore, now,” said Jas- 
 per, smiling ; “ and I think you will admit, Master 
 Cap, that a strong under-tow makes an easy 
 cable ; we owe all our lives to the under-tow of 
 this very lake.” 
 
 “French flummery!” growled Cap, though 
 he did not care to be heard by Jasper. “ Give 
 me a fair, honest, English-Yankee-American tow, 
 above board, and above water, too, if I must have 
 a tow at all, and none of your sneaking drift that 
 is below the surface, where one can neither see 
 nor feel. I dare say, if the truth could be come 
 at, that this late escape of ours was all a contrived 
 affair.” 
 
 “ We have now a good opportunity, at least, 
 to reconnoitre the enemy’s post at Niagara, 
 brother, for such I take this fort to be,” put in 
 the sergeant. “ Let us be all eyes in passing, 
 and remember that we are almost in the face of 
 the enemy.” 
 
 This advice of the sergeant’s needed nothing 
 to enforce it, for the interest and novelty of pass- 
 ing a spot occupied by human beings were of 
 themselves sufficient to attract deep attention in 
 that scene of a vast but deserted nature. The 
 wind was now fresh enough to urge the Scud 
 through the water with considerable velocity, and 
 
 Jasper eased her helm as sne opened the river, 
 and luffed nearly into the mouth of that noble 
 strait, or river, as it is termed. A dull, distant, 
 heavy roar came down through the opening in the 
 banks, swelling on the currents of the air, like the 
 deeper notes of some immense organ, and occasion- 
 ally seeming to cause the earth itself to tremble. 
 
 “ That sounds like surf on some long, unbro- 
 ken coast ! ” exclaimed Cap, as a swell deeper 
 than common came to his ears. 
 
 “ Ay, that is such surf as we have in this 
 quarter of the world,” Pathfinder answered. 
 “ There is no under-tow there, Master Cap, but 
 all the water that strikes the rocks stays there, 
 so far as going back ag’in is consarned. That is 
 old Niagara that you hear, or this noble stream 
 tumbling down a mountain ! ” 
 
 “ No one will have the impudence to pretend 
 that this fine broad river falls over yonder hills ? ” 
 
 “ It does, Master Cap, it does ; and all for the 
 want of stairs, or a road, to come down by. This 
 is natur’, as we have it up hereaway, though I 
 dare say you beat us down on the ocean. — Ah’s 
 me ! Mabel ; a pleasant hour it would be if we 
 could walk on the shore some ten or fifteen miles 
 up this stream, and gaze on all that God has done 
 there ! ” 
 
 “ You have, then, seen these renowned falls 
 Pathfinder?” the girl eagerly inquired. 
 
 “ I have— yes, I have ; and an awful sight I 
 witnessed at that same time. The Sarpent and I 
 were out, scouting about the garrison there, when 
 he told me that the traditions of his people gave 
 an account of a mighty cataract in this neighbor- 
 hood, and he asked me to vary from the line of 
 march a little, to look at the wonder. I had 
 heard some marvels consarning the spot, from 
 the soldiers of the 60th, which is my nat’ral corps 
 like, and not the 55th, with which I have so- 
 journed so much of late ; but there are so many 
 terrible liars in all rijiments, that I hardly believed 
 half they told me. Well, we went ; and though 
 we expected to be led by our ears, and to hear 
 some of that awful roaring that we hear to-day, 
 we were disapp’inted, for natur’ was not then 
 speaking in thunder, as she is this morning.— 
 Thus it is, in the forest, Master Cap ; there being 
 moments when God seems to be walking abroad 
 in power, and, then again, there is a calm over 
 all, as if his spirit lay in quiet along the ’arth. 
 Well, we came suddenly upon the stream, a short 
 distance above the fall, and a young Delaware 
 who was in our company, found a bark canoe, 
 and he would push into the current, to reach an 
 island that lies in the very centre of the confusion 
 and strife. We told him of his folly, we did, and 
 
128 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 we reasoned with him on the wickedness of 
 tempting Providence by seeking danger that led 
 to no ind ; but the youth among the Delawares 
 are very much the same as the youth among the 
 soldiers, risky and vain. All we could say did 
 not change his mind, and the lad had his way. — 
 To me it seems, Mabel, that whenever a thing is 
 really grand and potent, it has a quiet majesty 
 about it, that is altogether unlike the frothy and 
 flustering manner of smaller matters, and so it 
 was with them rapids. The canoe was no sooner 
 fairly in them, than down it went, as it might be, 
 as one sails through the air on the ’artli, and no 
 skill of the young Delaware could resist the 
 stream. And yet he struggled manfully for life, 
 using the paddle to the last, like the deer that is 
 swimming to cast the hounds. At first, he shot 
 across the current so swiftly that we thought he 
 would prevail, but he had miscalculated his dis- 
 tance, and, when the truth really struck him, he 
 turned the head up-stream, and struggled in a 
 way that was fearful to look at. I could have 
 pitied him even had he been a Mingo ! For a few 
 moments his efforts were so frantic, that he act- 
 ually prevailed over the power of the cataract; 
 but natur’ has its limits, and one faltering stroke 
 of the paddle set him back, and tlien he lost 
 ground, foot by foot, inch by inch, until he got 
 near the spot where the river looked even and 
 green, and as if it were made of millions of 
 threads of water, all bent over some huge rock, 
 when he shot backward like an arrow and dis- 
 appeared, the bow of the canoe tipping just 
 enough to let us see what had become of him. 
 
 I met a Mohawk, some years later, who had wit- 
 nessed the whole affair from the bed of the stream 
 below, and he told me that the Delaware contin- 
 ued to paddle in the air, until he was lost in the 
 mists of the falls ! ” 
 
 “ And what became of the poor wretch ? ” 
 demanded Mabel, who had been strongly inter- 
 ested by the natural eloquence of the speaker. 
 
 “ He went to the happy hunting-grounds of 
 his people, no doubt ; for, though he was risky 
 and vain, he was also just and brave. Yes, he 
 died foolishly, but the Manitou of the red-skins 
 has compassion on his creatur’s as well as the 
 God of a Christian ! ” 
 
 A gun at this moment was discharged from a 
 block-house near the fort, and the shot, one of 
 little weight, came whistling over the cutter’s 
 mast, an admonition to approach no nearer. Jas- 
 per was at the helm, and he kept away, smiling 
 at the same time as if he felt no anger at the 
 rudeness of the salutation. The Scud was now in 
 the current, and her outward set soon carried her 
 
 far enough to leeward to avoid the danger of a 
 repetition of the shot, and then she quietly con- 
 tinued her course along the land. As soon as the 
 river was fairly opened, Jasper ascertained that 
 the Montcalm was not at anchor in it ; and a man 
 sent aloft came down with the report that the 
 horizon showed no sail. The hope was now strong 
 that the artifice of Jasper had succeeded, and 
 that the French commander had missed them by 
 keeping the middle of the lake as he steered tow- 
 ard its head. 
 
 All that day the wind hung to the southward, 
 and the cutter continued her course, about a 
 league from the land, running six or eight knots 
 an hour in perfectly smooth water. Although the 
 scene had one feature of monotony, the outline of 
 unbroken forest, it was not without its interest and 
 pleasures. Various headlands presented them- 
 selves, and the cutter, in running from one to an- 
 other, stretched across bays so deep as almost to 
 deserve the name of gulfs, but nowhere did the 
 eye meet with the evidences of civilization. Riv 
 ers occasionally poured their tribute into the 
 great reservoir of the lake, but their banks could 
 be traced inland for miles by the same outlines of 
 trees ; and even large bays that lay embosomed 
 in woods, communicating with Ontario only by 
 narrow outlets, appeared and disappeared with- 
 out bringing with them a single trace of a human 
 habitation. 
 
 Of all on board, the Pathfinder viewed the 
 scene with the most unmingled delight. His eyes 
 feasted on the endless line of forest, and, more 
 than once that day, notwithstanding he found it 
 so grateful to be near Mabel, listening to her 
 pleasant voice, and echoing, in feelings at least, 
 her joyous laugh, did his soul pine to be wander- 
 ing beneath the high arches of the maples, oaks, 
 and lindens, where his habits had induced him 
 to fancy lasting and true joys were only to be 
 found. Cap viewed the prospect differently. 
 More than once he expressed his disgust at there 
 being no light-houses, church-towers, beacons, or 
 roadsteads with their shipping. Such another 
 coast, he protested, the world did not contain ; 
 and, taking the sergeant aside, he gravely assured 
 him that the region could never come to any 
 thing, as the havens were neglected, the rivers 
 had a deserted and useless look, and that even 
 the breeze had a smell of the forest about it, 
 which spoke ill of its properties. 
 
 But the humors of the different individuals in 
 her did not stay the speed of the Scud. V hen 
 the sun was setting, she was already a hundred 
 miles on her route toward Oswego, into which riv- 
 er Sergeant Dunham now thought it his duty to go, 
 
A FRENCH SHIP IN CHASE. 
 
 129 
 
 m order to receive any communications that Major 
 Duncan might please to make. With a view to 
 effect this purpose, Jasper continued to hug the 
 shore all night ; and, though the wind began to 
 fail him toward morning, it lasted long enough to 
 carry the cutter up to a point that was known to 
 be but a league or two from the fort. Here the 
 breeze came out light at the northward, and the 
 cutter hauled a little from the land in order to ob- 
 tain a safe offing should it come on to blow, or 
 should the weather again get to be easterly. 
 
 When the day dawned, the cutter had the 
 mouth of the Oswego well under her lee, distant 
 about two miles, and just as the morning gun 
 from the fort was fired, Jasper gave the order to 
 ease off the sheets, and to bear up for his port. 
 At that moment a cry from the forecastle drew 
 all eyes toward the point on the eastern side of 
 the outlet, and there, just without the range of 
 shot from the light guns of the works, with her 
 canvas reduced to barely enough to keep her 
 stationary, lay the Montcalm, evidently in wait- 
 ing for their appearance. To pass her was im- 
 possible, for, by filling her sails, the French ship 
 could have intercepted them in a few minutes ; 
 and the circumstances called for a prompt deci- 
 sion. After a short consultation, the sergeant 
 again changed his plan, determining to make the 
 best of his way toward the station for which he 
 had been originally destined, trusting to the 
 speed of the Scud to throw the enemy so far 
 astern, as to leave no clue to her movements. 
 
 The cutter, accordingly, hauled upon a wind, 
 with the least possible delay, with every thing set 
 that would draw. Guns were fired from the fort, 
 ensigns shown, and the ramparts were again 
 crowded. But sympathy was all the aid that 
 Lundie could lend to his party ; and the Montcalm, 
 also firing four or five guns of defiance, and 
 throwing abroad several of the banners of France, 
 was soon in chase, under a cloud of canvas. 
 
 For several hours the two vessels were press- 
 ing through the water as fast as possible, making 
 8hort stretches to windward, apparently with a 
 view to keep the port under their lee, the one to 
 enter it, if possible, and the other to intercept it 
 in the attempt. 
 
 At meridian, the French ship was hull down 
 dead to leeward, the disparity of sailing on a 
 wind being very great, and some islands were 
 near by, behind which Jasper said it would be 
 possible for the cutter to conceal her future 
 movements. Although Cap and the sergeant, 
 and particularly Lieutenant Muir, to judge by his 
 language, still felt a good deal of distrust of the 
 young man, and Frontenac was not distant, this | 
 
 advice was followed, for time pressed, and the 
 quartermaster discreetly observed that Jasper 
 could not well betray them, without running 
 openly into the enemy’s harbor — a step they 
 could at any time prevent, since the only cruiser 
 of force the French possessed, at the moment was 
 under their lee, and not in a situation to do them 
 any immediate injury. 
 
 Left to himself, Jasper Western soon proved 
 how much was really in him. He weathered up- 
 on the islands, passed them, and, on coming out 
 to the eastward, kept broad away, with nothing 
 in sight in his wake or to leeward. By sunset, 
 again, the cutter was up with the first of the isl- 
 ands that lie in the outlet of the lake, and ere it 
 was dark she was running through the narrow 
 channels on her way to the long-sought station. 
 At nine o’clock, however, Cap insisted that they 
 should anchor, for the maze of islands became so 
 complicated and obscure, that he feared, at every 
 opening, the party would find themselves under 
 the guns of a French fort. Jasper consented 
 cheerfully, it being a part of his standing instruc- 
 tions to approach the station under such circum- 
 stances as would prevent the men from obtaining 
 any very accurate notions of its position, lest a 
 deserter might betray the little garrison to the 
 enemy. 
 
 The Scud was brought-to in a small retired 
 bay, where it would have been difficult to find her 
 by daylight, and where she was perfectly con- 
 cealed at night, when all but a solitary sentinel 
 on deck sought their rest. Cap had been so har- 
 assed during the previous eight-and-forty hours, 
 that his slumbers were long and deep, nor did he 
 awake from his first nap until the day was just 
 beginning to dawn. His eyes were scarcely open, 
 however, when his nautical instinct told him that 
 the cutter was under way. Springing up, he 
 found the Scud threading the islands again, with 
 no one on deck but Jasper and the pilot, unless 
 the sentinel be excepted, who had not in the 
 least interfered with movements that he had 
 every reason to believe were as regular as they 
 were necessary. 
 
 “How’s this, Master Western?” demanded 
 Cap, with sufficient fierceness for the occasion— 
 
 “ are y 011 running us into Frontenac at last, and 
 we all asleep below, like so many maxines wait- 
 ing for the ‘ sentry go ? ’” 
 
 “ This is according to orders, Master Cap, 
 Major Duncan having commanded me never to 
 approaoh the station unless at a moment when 
 the people were below ; for he does not wish there 
 should be more pilots in these waters than the 
 king has need of ” 
 
130 
 
 TEE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ Whe-e-w ! a pretty job I should have made 
 of running down among these bushes and rocks, 
 with no one on deck ! Why, a regular York 
 branch could make nothing at all of such a chan- 
 nel.” 
 
 “ I always thought, sir,” said Jasper, smiling, 
 
 « you would have done better had you left the 
 cutter in my hands until she had safely reached 
 her place of destination.” 
 
 “ We should have done it, Jasper ; we should 
 have done it, had it not been for a circumstance 
 —these circumstances are serious matters, and 
 no prudent man will ovei’look them. 
 
 “ Well, sir, I hope there is now an end of 
 them. We shall arrive in less than an hour, if 
 the wind hold, and then you’ll be safe from any 
 circumstances that 1 can contrive.” 
 
 “ Humph!” 
 
 Cap was oblige to acquiesce, and, as every 
 thing around him had the appearance of Jasper’s 
 being sincere, there was not much difficulty in 
 making up his mind to submit. It would not 
 have been easy, indeed, for a person the most 
 sensitive on the subject of circumstances, to fancy 
 that the Scud was anywhere in the vicinity of a 
 port as long established, and as well known on 
 the frontiers, as Frontenac. The islands might 
 not have been literally a thousand in number, 
 but they were so numerous and small as to baffle 
 calculation, though occasionally one of larger 
 size than common was passed. Jasper had quit- 
 ted what might have been termed the main chan- 
 nel, and was winding his way with a good stiff 
 breeze, and a favorable current, through passes 
 that were sometimes so narrow that there ap- 
 peared to be barely room sufficient for the Scud’s 
 spars to clear the trees, while at other moments 
 he shot across little bays, and buried the cutter 
 again amid rocks, forests, and bushes. The 
 water was so transparent that there was no oc- 
 casion for the lead, and being of equal depth little 
 risk was actually run, though Cap, with his mari- 
 time habits, was in a constant fever lest they 
 should strike. 
 
 “I give it up !— -I give it up, Pathfinder! 
 the old seaman at length exclaimed, when the 
 little vessel emerged in safety from the twentieth 
 of these narrow inlets, through which she had been 
 so boldly carried ; “ this is defying the very nature 
 of seamanship, and sending all its laws and rules 
 to the d 1 ! ” 
 
 « Hay, nay, Salt-water ; ’tis the parfection of 
 tb.e art. You perceive that Jasper never falters, 
 but, like a hound with a true nose, he runs with 
 his head high, as if he had a strong scent. My 
 hfe on it the lad brings us out right in the ind, 
 
 as he would have done in the beginning had we 
 given him leave.” 
 
 “No pilot, no lead, no beacons, buoys, or 
 light-houses, no — ” 
 
 “ Trail ! ” interrupted Pathfinder, “ for that 
 to me is the most mysterious part of the busi- 
 ness. Water leaves no trail, as every one knows, 
 and yet here is Jasper moving ahead as boldly as 
 if he bad before his eyes the prints of moccasins 
 on leaves as plainly as we can see the sun in the 
 heaven.” 
 
 “ D e if I believe there is even any com- 
 
 pass ! ” 
 
 “ Stand by to haul down the jib,” called out 
 Jasper, who merely smiled at the remarks of his 
 companion. “ Haul down — starboard your helm 
 —starboard hard— so— meet her— gently there 
 with the helm — touch her lightly — now jump 
 ashore with the fast, lad— no, heave— there are 
 some of our people ready to take it.” 
 
 All this passed so quickly as barely to allow 
 the spectators time to note the different evolu- 
 tions, ere the Scud had been thrown into the 
 wind until her mainsail shivered, next cast a little 
 by the use of the rudder only, and then she set 
 bodily alongside of a natural rocky quay, where 
 she was immediately secured by good fasts run 
 to the shore. In a word, the station was reached, 
 and the men of the 55th were greeted by their 
 expecting comrades with the satisfaction that a 
 relief usually brings. 
 
 Mabel sprang upon the shore with a delight 
 which she did not care to express, and her father 
 led his men after her with an alacrity which 
 proved how wearied he had become of the cutter. 
 The Station, as the place was familiarly termed 
 by the soldiers of the 55th, was indeed a spot to 
 raise expectations of enjoyment among those who 
 had been cooped up so long in a vessel of the 
 dimensions of the Scud. None of the islands 
 were high, though all lay at a sufficient elevation 
 above the water to render them perfectly healthy 
 and secure. Each had more or less of wood, and 
 the greater number at that distant day were 
 clothed with the virgin forest. The one selected 
 by the troops for their purpose was small, con- 
 taining about twenty acres of land, and by some 
 of the accidents of the wilderness it had been 
 partly stripped of its trees, probably centuries 
 before the period of which we are writing, and a 
 little grassy glade covered nearly half its surface. 
 It was the opinion of the officer who had made 
 the selection of this spot for a military post, that 
 a sparkling spring near by had early caught the 
 attention of the Indians, and that they had long 
 frequented this particular place, in their hunts, 
 
STATION ISLAND. 
 
 131 
 
 »r when fishing for salmon — a circumstance that 
 had kept down the second growth, and given time 
 for the natural grasses to take root, and to gain 
 dominion over the soil. Let the cause be what 
 it might, the effect was to render this island far 
 more beautiful than most of those around it, and 
 to lend it an air of civilization that was then 
 wanting in so much of that vast region of country. 
 
 The shores of Station Island were completely 
 fringed with bushes, and great care had been 
 taken to preserve them, as they answered as a 
 screen to conceal the persons and things collected 
 within their circle. Favored by this shelter, as 
 well as by that of several thickets of trees and 
 different copses, some six or eight low huts had 
 been erected to be used as quarters for the officer 
 and his men, to contain stores, and to serve the 
 purposes of kitchen, hospital, etc. These huts 
 were built of logs, in the usual manner, had been 
 roofed by bark brought from a distance, lest the 
 signs of labor should attract attention, and, as 
 they had now been inhabited some months, were 
 as comfortable as dwellings of that description 
 usually ever get to be. 
 
 At the eastern extremity of the island, how- 
 ever, was a small densely-wooded peninsula, with 
 a thicket of underbrush so closely matted as 
 nearly to prevent the possibility of seeing across 
 it so long as the leaves remained on the branches. 
 Near the narrow neck that connected this acre 
 with the rest of the island, a small block-house 
 had been erected with some attention to its means 
 of resistance. The logs were bullet-proof, squared 
 and jointed with a care to leave no defenceless 
 points ; the windows were loop-holes ; the door 
 massive and small ; and the roof, like the rest of 
 the structure, was framed of hewn timber, cov- 
 ered properly with bark to exclude the rain. The 
 lower apartment, as usual, contained stores and 
 provisions ; here, indeed, the party kept all their 
 supplies; the second story was intended for a 
 dwelling as well as for the citadel, and a low 
 garret was subdivided into two or three rooms, 
 and could hold the pallets of some ten or fifteen 
 persons. All the arrangements were exceedingly 
 simple and cheap, but they were sufficient to pro- 
 tect the soldiers against the effects of a surprise. 
 As the whole building was considerably less than 
 forty feet high, its summit was concealed by the 
 tops of the trees, except from the eyes of those 
 who had reached the interior of the island. On 
 that side the view was open from the upper loops, 
 though bushes, even there, more or less concealed 
 the base of the wooden tower. 
 
 The object being purely defence, care had 
 been taken to place the block-house so near an 
 
 opening in the limestone rock that formed the 
 base of the island, as to admit of a bucket’s being 
 dropped into the water in order to obtain that 
 great essential in the event of a siege. In order 
 to facilitate this operation, and to enfilade the 
 base of the building, the upper stories projected 
 several feet beyond the lower in the manner usual 
 to block-houses, and pieces of wood filled the 
 apertures cut in the log flooring, which were in- 
 tended as loops and traps. The communications 
 between the different stojies were by means of 
 ladders. If we add that these block-houses were 
 intended as citadels, for garrisons or settlements 
 to retreat to in cases of attack, the general read 
 er will obtain a sufficiently correct idea of the 
 arrangements it is our wish to explain. 
 
 But the situation of the island itself formed 
 its principal merit as a military position. Lying 
 in the midst of twenty others, it was not an easy 
 matter to find it, since boats might pass quite 
 near, and, by the glimpses caught through the 
 openings, this particular island would be taken 
 for a part of some other. Indeed, the channels 
 between the islands that lay around the one we 
 have been describing were so narrow, that it was 
 even difficult to say which portions of the land 
 were connected, or which separated, even as one 
 stood in their centre, with the express desire of 
 ascertaining the truth. The little bay in particu- 
 lar, that Jasper used as a harbor, was so embow- 
 ered with bushes and shut in with islands, that, 
 the sails of the cutter being lowered, her o wn 
 people, on one occasion, had searched for hours 
 before they could find the Scud, in their return 
 from a short excursion among the adjacent chan- 
 nels, in quest of fish. In short, the place was ad- 
 mirably adapted to its present uses, and its natu- 
 ral advantages had been as ingeniously improved 
 as economy and the limited means of a frontier 
 post would very well allow. 
 
 Thehour thatsucceeded the arrival of the Scud 
 was one of hurried excitement. The party in 
 possession had done nothing worthy of being 
 mentioned, and, wearied with their seclusion, they 
 were all eager to return to Oswego. The ser 
 geant and the officer he came to relieve had no 
 sooner gone through the little ceremonies of 
 transferring the command, than the latter hurried 
 on board the Scud with his whole party ; and Jas- 
 per, who would gladly have passed the day on 
 the island, was required to get under way forth- 
 with, the wind promising a quick passage up 
 the river and across the lake. Before separating, 
 however, Lieutenant Muir, Cap, and a sergeant, 
 had a private conference with the ensign who had 
 been relieved, in which the latter was made ac- 
 
132 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 ipiainted with the suspicions that existed against 
 the fidelity of the young sailor. Promising due 
 caution, the officer embarked, and, in less than 
 three hours from the time when she had arrived, 
 the cutter was again in motion. 
 
 Mabel had taken possession of a hut, and with 
 female readiness and skill she made all the sim- 
 ple little domestic arrangements of which the cir- 
 cumstances would admit, not only for her own 
 comfort, but for that of her father. To save 
 labor, a mess table w^s prepared in a hut set 
 apart for that purpose, where all the heads of the 
 detachment were to eat, the soldier’s wife per- 
 forming the necessary labor. The hut of the ser- 
 geant, which was the best on the island, being 
 thus freed from any of the vulgar offices of a 
 household, admitted of such a display of womanly 
 taste, that, for the first time since her arrival on 
 the frontier, the girl felt proud of her home. As 
 soon as these important duties were discharged, 
 she strolled out on the island, taking a path that 
 led through the pretty glade, and which conducted 
 to the only point that was not covered with bush- 
 es, Here she stood gazing at the limpid water, 
 which lay with scarcely a ruffle on it, at her feet, 
 musing on the novel situation in which she was 
 placed, and permitting a pleasing and deep excite- 
 ment to steal over her feelings, as she remembered 
 the scenes through which she had so lately passed, 
 and conjectured those which still lay veiled in the 
 future. 
 
 “You’re a beautiful fixture, in a beautiful 
 spot, Mistress Mabel,” said David Muir, suddenly 
 appearing at her elbow, “and I’ll no engage 
 you’re not just the handsomest of the two.” 
 
 “ I will not say, Mr. Muir, that compliments 
 on my person are altogether unwelcome, for I 
 should not gain credit for speaking the truth, per- 
 haps,” answered Mabel, with spirit ; “ but I will 
 say that, if you will condescend to address to me 
 some remarks of a different nature, I may be led 
 to believe you think I have sufficient faculties to 
 understand them.” 
 
 “ Hoot ! your mind, beautiful Mabel, is pol- 
 ished just like the barrel of a soldier’s musket, 
 and your conversation is only too discreet and 
 
 wise for a poor d 1 who has been chewing birch 
 
 jp here these four years on the lines, instead of re- 
 ceiving it in an application that has the virtue of 
 imparting knowledge. But you are no sorry, I 
 take it, young lady, that you’ve got your pretty 
 foot on terra Jirma once more.” 
 
 “ I thought so, two hours since, Mr. Muir ; but 
 the Scud looks so beautiful, as she sails through 
 these vistas of tree9, that I almost regret I am no 
 longer one of her passengers.” 
 
 As Mabel ceased speaking, she waved her 
 handkerchief in return to a salutation from Jas- 
 per, who kept his eyes fastened on her form, un- 
 til the white sails of the cutter had swept round a 
 point, and were nearly lost behind its green fringe 
 of leaves. 
 
 “ There they go, and I’ll no say ‘joy go with 
 them,’ but may they have the luck to return safe- 
 ly, for without them we shall be in danger of pass- 
 ing the winter on this island ; unless, indeed, we 
 have the alternative of the castle at Quebec! 
 Yon Jasper Eau-douce is a vagrant sort of a lad, 
 and they have reports of him in the garrison that 
 it pains my very heart to hear. Your worthy 
 father, and almost-as-worthy uncle, have none of 
 the best opinion of him.” 
 
 “ I am sorry to hear it, Mr. Muir ; I doubt not 
 that time will remove all their distrust.” 
 
 “ If time would only remove mine, pretty Ma- 
 bel,” rejoined the quartermaster, in a wheedling 
 tone, “ I should feel no envy of the commander-in- 
 chief. I think if I were in a condition to retire, 
 the sergeant would just step into my shoes.” 
 
 « If my dear father is worthy to step into your 
 shoes, Mr. Muir,” returned the girl, with ma- 
 licious pleasure, “ I’m sure that the qualification 
 is mutual, and that you are every way worthy to 
 step into his.” 
 
 “ The deuce is in the child ! you would not re- 
 duce me to the rank of a non-commissioned offi- 
 cer, Mabel!” 
 
 “ No, indeed, sir, I was not thinking of the 
 army at all, as you spoke of retiring. My 
 thoughts were more egotistical, and I was think- 
 ing how much you reminded me of my dear father, 
 by your experience, wisdom, and suitableness, to 
 take his place as the head of a family.” 
 
 “ As its bridegroom, pretty Mabel, but not as 
 its parent, or natural chief. I see how it is with 
 you, loving your repartee, and brilliant with wit ! 
 Well, I like spirit in a young woman, so it be 
 not the spirit of a scold. This Pathfinder is an 
 extraordinair, Mabel, if truth may be said of the 
 man.” 
 
 “ Truth should be said of him, or nothing. 
 Pathfinder is my friend— my very particular 
 friend, Mr. Muir, and no evil can be said of him, 
 in my presence, that I shall not deny.” 
 
 “ I shall say nothing evil of him, I can assure 
 you, Mabel; but, at the same time, I doubt if 
 much good can be said in his favor.” 
 
 “ He is at least expert with the rifle,” returned 
 Mabel, smiling. “ That you cannot deny.” 
 
 “ Let him have all the credit of his exploit* 
 in that way, if you please ; but he is as illiterate 
 as a Mohawk.” 
 
THE QUARTERMASTER’S ATTENTIONS. 
 
 133 
 
 “ He may not understand Latin, but his know- 
 .edge of Iroquois is greater than that of most men, 
 and it is the more useful language of the two, in 
 this part of the world.” 
 
 “ If Lundie himself were to call on me for an 
 opinion which I admired most, your person or 
 your wit, beautiful and caustic Mabel, I should be 
 at a loss to answer. My admiration is so nearly 
 divided between them, that I often fancy this is 
 the one that bears off the palm, and then the 
 other ! Ah ! The late Mrs. Muir was a paragon 
 in that way, also ! ” 
 
 “ The latest Mrs. Muir, did you say, sir ? ” 
 asked Mabel, looking up innocently at her com- 
 panion. 
 
 “Hoot — hoot! That is some of Pathfinder’s 
 scandal. Now, I dare say that the fellow has been 
 trying to persuade you, Mabel, that I have had 
 more than one wife already.” 
 
 “In that case, his time would have been 
 thrown away, sir, as everybody knows that you 
 have been so unfortunate as to have had four.” 
 
 “ Only three, as sure as my name is David 
 Muir. The fourth is pure scandal — or, rather, 
 pretty Mabel, she is yet in petto, as they say at 
 Rome ; and that means, in matters of love, in the 
 heart, my dear.” 
 
 “ Well, I’m glad I’m not that fourth person, 
 in petto , or in any thing else, as I should not like 
 to be a scandal ! ” 
 
 “ No fear of that, charming Mabel ; for, were 
 you the fourth, all the others would be forgotten, 
 and your wonderful beauty and merit would at 
 once elevate you to the first. No fear of your 
 being the fourth in any thing.” 
 
 “ There is consolation in that assurance, Mr. 
 Muir,” said Mabel, laughing, “ whatever there may 
 be in your other assurance ; for I confess I should 
 prefer being even a fourth-rate beauty to being a 
 fourth wife.” 
 
 So saying, she tripped away, leaving the quar- 
 termaster to meditate on his want of success. 
 Mabel had been induced to use her female means 
 of defence thus freely, partly because her suitor 
 had of late been so pointed as to stand in need 
 of a pretty strong repulse, and partly on account 
 of his innuendoes against Jasper and the Path- 
 finder. Though full of spirit and quick of intel- 
 lect, she was not naturally pert ; but, on the pres- 
 ent occasion, she thought circumstances called 
 for more than usual decision. When she left her 
 companion, therefore, she believed she was now 
 finally released from attentions that she thought 
 as ill bestowed as they were certainly disagree- 
 able. Not so, however, with David Muir ; accus- 
 tomed to rebuffs, and familiar with the virtue of 
 
 perseverance, he saw no reason to despair, though 
 the half menacing, half self-satisfied manner in 
 which he shook his head toward the retreating 
 girl, might have betrayed designs as sinister as 
 they were determined. While he was thus occu- 
 pied, the Pathfinder approached, and got within 
 a few feet of him, unseen. 
 
 “ ’Twill never do, quartermaster, ’twill nev- 
 er do ! ” commenced the latter, laughing in his 
 noiseless way ; “ she is young and actyve, and 
 none but a quick foot can overtake her. They 
 tell me you are her suitor, if you’re not her fol- 
 lower.” 
 
 “ And I hear the same of yourself, man, though 
 the presumption would be so great that I scarce 
 can think it true ! ” 
 
 “ I fear you’re right, I do ; yes, I fear you’re 
 right ! — when I consider myself— what I am — 
 how little I know, and how rude my life has been, 
 I altogether distrust my claim, even to think a 
 moment, of one so tutored, and gay, and light of 
 heart, and delicate — ” 
 
 “You forget handsome,” coarsely interrupted 
 Muir. 
 
 “And handsome, too, I fear,” returned the 
 meek and self-abased guide ; “ I might have said 
 handsome, at once, among her other qualities, 
 for the young fa’an, just as it learns to bound, is 
 not more pleasant to the eye of the hunter than 
 Mabel is lovely in mine. I do, indeed, fear that 
 all the thoughts I have harbored about her are 
 vain and presumptuous.” 
 
 “ If you think this, my friend, of your own ac- 
 cord, and natural modesty, as it might be, my duty 
 to you as an old fellow-campaigner compels me to 
 say—” 
 
 “Quartermaster,” interrupted the other, re- 
 garding his companion keenly, “ you and I have 
 lived together much behind the ramparts of forte, 
 but very little in the open woods, or in front of 
 the inimy.” 
 
 “ Garrison or tent, it all passes for part of the 
 same campaign, you know, Pathfinder ; and then 
 my duty keeps me much within sight of the store- 
 houses, greatly contrary to my inclinations, as ye 
 may well suppose, having yourself the ardor of 
 battle in your temperament. But had ye heard 
 what Mabel has just been saying of you, ye’d no 
 think another minute of making yourself agree- 
 able to the saucy and uncompromising hussy.” 
 
 Pathfinder looked earnestly at the lieutenant, 
 for it was impossible he should not feel an interest 
 in what might be Mabel’s opinion ; but he had 
 too much of the innate and true feeling of a gen- 
 tleman, to ask to hear what another had said of 
 him. Muir, however, was not to be foiled by this 
 
THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 L34 
 
 self-denial and self-respect ; for, believing he had 
 a man of great truth and simplicity to deal with, 
 he determined to practise on his credulity, as one 
 means of getting rid of his rivalry. He there- 
 fore pursued the subject as soon as he perceived 
 that his companion’s self-denial was stronger than 
 his curiosity. 
 
 “ You ought to know her opinion, Pathfinder,” 
 he continued ; “ and I think every man ought to 
 hear what his friends and acquaintances say of 
 him ; and so, by way of proving my own regard 
 for your character and feelings, I’ll just tell you, 
 in as few words as possible. You know that Ma- 
 bel has a wicked, malicious way with those eyes 
 of her own, when she has a mind to be hard upon 
 one’s feelings.” 
 
 “ To me her eyes, Lieutenant Muir, have al- 
 ways seemed winning and soft — though I will ac- 
 knowledge that they sometimes laugh— yes, I 
 have known them to laugh ; and that right heart- 
 ily, and with downright good-will.” 
 
 “ Well, it was just that, then ; her eyes were 
 laughing with all their might, as it were, and, in 
 the midst of all her fun, she broke out with an 
 exclamation to this effect— I hope ’twill no hurt 
 your sensibility, Pathfinder ? ” 
 
 “ I will not say, quartermaster, I will not say 
 
 Mabel’s opinion of me is of more account than 
 
 fchat of most others.” 
 
 “ Then I’ll no tell ye, but just keep discretion 
 on the subject ; and why should a man be telling 
 another what his friends say of him, especially 
 when they happen to say that which may not be 
 pleasant to hear. I’ll not add another word to 
 this present communication.” 
 
 “ I cannot make you speak, quartermaster, if 
 you are not so minded, and perhaps it is better 
 for me not to know Mabel’s opinion, as you seem 
 to think it is not in my favor. Ah’s me — if we 
 could be what we wished to be, instead of being 
 only what we are, there would be a great differ- 
 ence in our characters, and knowledge, and ap- 
 pearance. One may be rude, and coarse, and ig- 
 norant, and yet happy, if he does not know it ; 
 but it is hard to see our own failings in the strong- 
 est light, just as we wish to hear the least about 
 them.” 
 
 “ That’s just the rationale , as the French say, 
 of the matter ; and so I was telling Mabel, when 
 she ran away and left me. You noticed the 
 manner in which she skipped off, as you ap- 
 proached ? ” 
 
 “ It was very observable,” answered Pathfind- 
 er, drawing a long breath, and clinching the bar- 
 rel of his rifle, as if the fingers would bury them- 
 selves in the iron. 
 
 “ It was more than observable — it was fia 
 grant — that’s just the word, and the dictionary 
 wouldn’t supply a better, after an hour’s search. 
 Well, you must know, Pathfinder, for I cannot 
 reasonably deny you the gratification of hearing 
 this — so you must know, the minx bounded off in 
 that manner, in preference to hearing what I had 
 to say in your justification.” 
 
 “ And what could you find to say in my be- 
 half, quartermaster ? ” 
 
 “Why, d’ye understand, my friend, I was 
 ruled by circumstances, and no ventured indis- 
 creetly into generalities, but was preparing to 
 meet particulars, as it might be, with particulars. 
 If you were thought wild, half-savage, or of a 
 frontier formation, I could tell her, ye know, that 
 it came of the frontier, wild, and half-savage life 
 ye’d led ; and all her objections must cease at 
 once, or there would be a sort of a misunderstand- 
 ing with Providence.” 
 
 “ And did you tell her this, quartermaster ? ” 
 
 “ I’ll no swear to the exact words, but the 
 idea was prevalent in my mind, ye’ll understand. 
 The girl was impatient, and would not hear the 
 half I had to say ; but away she skipped, as ye 
 saw with your own eyes, Pathfinder, as if her 
 opinion were fully made up, and she cared to lis- 
 ten no longer. I fear her mind may be said to 
 have come to its conclusion.” 
 
 “ I fear it has, indeed, quartermaster, and her 
 father, after all, is mistaken. Yes, yes ; the ser- 
 geant has fallen into a grievous error.” 
 
 “ Well, man, why need ye lament, and undo 
 all the grand reputation ye’ve been so many years 
 making ? Shoulder the rifle that ye use so well, 
 and off into the woods with ye, for there’s not 
 the female breathing that is worth the heavy 
 heart for a minute, as I know from experience. 
 Tak’ the word of one who knows the sax, and 
 has had two wives, that women, after all, are very 
 much the sort of creatures we do not imagine 
 them to be. Now, if you would really mortify 
 Mabel, here is as glorious an occasion as any re- 
 jected lover could desire.” 
 
 “ The last wish I have, lieutenant, would be 
 to mortify Mabel.” 
 
 “ Well, ye’ll come to that in the end, notwith- 
 standing ; for it’s human nature to desire to give 
 unpleasant feelings to them that give unpleasant 
 feelings to us. But a better occasion never offered, 
 to make your friends love you than is to be had 
 at this very moment, and that is the certain 
 means of causing one’s enemies to envy us.” 
 
 “ Quartermaster, Mabel is not my inimy ; and 
 if she was, the last thing I could desire would b« 
 to give her an uneasy moment.” 
 
MR. MUIR’S MOTIVES. 
 
 135 
 
 “Ye say so, Pathfinder — ye say so, and I 
 dare say ye think so ; but reason and nature are 
 both against you, as ye’ll find in the end. Ye’ve 
 heard the saying of ‘ love me, love my dog : ’ well, 
 now, that means, read backward, ‘ don’t love me, 
 don’t love my dog.’ Now, listen to what is in 
 your power to do. You know we occupy an ex- 
 ceedingly precarious and uncertain position here, 
 almost in the jaws of the lion, as it were ? ” 
 
 “Do you mean the Frenchers, by the lion, 
 and this island as his jaws, lieutenant ? ” 
 
 “Metaphorically only, my friend, for the 
 French are no lions, and this island is not a jaw 
 — unless, indeed, it may prove to be, what I 
 greatly fear may come true, the jawbone of an 
 ass ! ” 
 
 Here the quartermaster indulged in a sneer- 
 ing laugh that proclaimed anything but respect 
 and admiration for his friend Lundie’s sagacity in 
 selecting that particular spot for his operations. 
 
 “ The post is as well chosen as any I ever put 
 foot in,” said Pathfinder, looking around him as 
 one surveys a picture. 
 
 “ I’ll no deny it — I’ll no deny it. Lundie is 
 a great soldier, in a small way ; and his father 
 was a great laird, with the same qualification. I 
 was born on the estate, and have followed the 
 Major so long, that I’ve got to reverence all he 
 says and does. That’s just my weakness, ye’ll 
 know, Pathfinder. Well, this post may be the 
 post of an ass, or of a Solomon, as men fancy ; but 
 it’s most critically placed, as is apparent by all 
 Lundie’s precautions and injunctions. There are 
 savages out, scouting through these thousand 
 islands, and over the forest, searching for this 
 very spot, as is known to Lundie himself, on cer- 
 tain information ; and, the greatest service you 
 can render the 56th, is to discover their trails, 
 and lead them off on a false scent. Unhappily, 
 Sergeant Dunham has taken up the notion, that 
 the danger is to be apprehended from up-stream, 
 because Frontenac lies above us ; whereas, all ex- 
 perience tells us, that Indians come on the side 
 that is most contrary to reason, and, consequent- 
 ly, are to be expected from below. Take your 
 canoe, therefore, and go down stream, among the 
 islands, that we may have notice if any danger 
 approaches from that quarter. If you should 
 look a few miles on the main, especially on the 
 York side, the information you’d bring in would 
 be all the more accurate, and, consequently, the 
 more valuable.” 
 
 “ The Big Sarpent is on the look-out in that 
 quarter, and, as he knows the station well, no 
 doubt he will give us timely notice, should any 
 wish to sarcumvent us in that direction.” 
 
 “ He is but an Indian, after all, Pathfinder, 
 and this is an affair that calls for the knowledge 
 of a white man. Lundie will be eternally grate- 
 ful to the man that shall help this little enter- 
 prise to come off with flying colors. To tell you 
 the truth, my friend, he is conscious it should 
 never have been attempted ; but he has too much, 
 of the old laird’s obstinacy about him to own an 
 error, though it be as manifest as the morning 
 star.” 
 
 The quartermaster then continued to reason 
 with his companion, in order to induce him to 
 quit the island without delay, using such argu- 
 ments as first suggested themselves, sometimes 
 contradicting himself, and not unfrequently urg- 
 ing at one moment a motive that at the next was 
 directly opposed by another. The Pathfinder, 
 simple as he was, detected these flaws in the 
 lieutenant’s philosophy, though he was far from 
 suspecting that they proceeded from a desire to 
 clear the coast of Mabel’s suitor. He met bad 
 reasons by good ones, resisted every inducement 
 that was not legitimate, by his intimate acquaint- 
 ance with his peculiar duties, and was blind, as 
 usual, to the influence of every incentive that could 
 not stand the test of integrity. He did not exactly 
 suspect the secret objects of Muir, but he was 
 far from being blind to his sophistry. The re- 
 sult was that the two parted, after a long dia- 
 logue, unconvinced and distrustful of each other’s 
 motives, though the distrust of the guide, like 
 all that was connected with the man, partook of 
 his own upright, disinterested, and ingenuous 
 nature. 
 
 A conference that took place, soon after, be- 
 tween Sergeant Dunham and the lieutenant, led to 
 more consequences. When it was ended, secret 
 orders were issued to the men, the block-house 
 was taken possession of, the huts were occupied, 
 and one accustomed to the movements of soldiers 
 might have detected that an expedition was in 
 the wind. In fact, just as the sun was setting, 
 the sergeant, who had been much occupied at 
 what was called the Harbor, came into his own 
 hut, followed by Pathfinder and Cap, and, as he 
 took his seat at the neat table that Mabel had 
 prepared for him, he opened the budget of his 
 intelligence. 
 
 “You are likely to be of some use here, my 
 child,” the old soldier commenced, “as this tidy 
 and well-ordered supper can testify ; and, I trust, 
 when the proper moment arrives, you will show 
 yourself to be the descendant of those who know 
 how to face their enemies.” 
 
 “ You do not expect me, dear father, to play 
 Joan of Arc, and to lead the men to battle ? ” 
 
L36 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “Play whom, child — did you ever hear of the 
 person Mabel mentions, Pathfinder ? ” 
 
 “ Not I, sargeant ; but what of that ? I am 
 ignorant and onedicated, and it is too great a 
 pleasure to me to listen to her voice, and take in 
 her words, to be particular about persons.” 
 
 “ I know her,” said Cap, decidedly ; “ she 
 gailed a privateer out of Morlaix in the last war ; 
 and good cruises she made of them.” 
 
 Mabel blushed at having inadvertently made 
 an allusion that went beyond her father’s reading, 
 to say nothing of her uncle’s dogmatism; and, 
 perhaps, a little at the Pathfinder’s simple, in- 
 genuous earnestness ; but she did not forbear the 
 less to smile. 
 
 “ Why, father, I am not expected to fall in 
 with the men and to help defend the island ? ” 
 
 “ And, yet, women often have done such 
 things, in this quarter of the world, girl, as our 
 friend, the Pathfinder, here, will tell you. But, 
 lest you should be surprised at not seeing us 
 when you awake in the morning, it is proper that 
 I now tell you we intend to march in the course 
 of this very night.” 
 
 “ We, father — and leave me and Jennie on this 
 island alone ? ” 
 
 “ No, my daughter, not quite as unmilitary as 
 that. We shall leave Lieutenant Muir, brother 
 Cap, Corporal McNab, and three men, to compose 
 Che garrison during our absence. Jennie will re- 
 main with you in this hut, and brother Cap will 
 occupy my place.” 
 
 “And Mr. Muir?” said Mabel, half uncon- 
 scious of what she uttered, though she foresaw a 
 great deal of unpleasant persecution in the ar- 
 rangement. 
 
 “ Why, he can make love to you, if you like 
 it, girl; for he is an amorous youth, and, having 
 already disposed of four wives, is impatient to 
 show how much he honors their memories by 
 taking a fifth.” 
 
 “ The quartermaster tells me,” said Pathfind- 
 er, innocently, “ that when a man’s feelings have 
 been harrowed by so many losses, there is no 
 wiser way to soothe them than by ploughing up 
 the soil anew in such a manner as to leave no 
 traces of what have gone over it before.” 
 
 “Ay, tiiat is just the difference between 
 ploughing and harrowing,” returned the sergeant, 
 with a grim smile. “ But let him tell Mabel his 
 mind, and there will be an end of his suit. I 
 very well know that my daughter will never be 
 the wife of Lieutenant Muir.” 
 
 This was said in a way that was tantamount 
 to declaring that no daughter of his ever should 
 become the wife of the person in question. Ma- 
 
 bel had colored, trembled* half laughed, and 
 looked uneasy ; but, rallying her spirit, she said 
 in a voice so cheerful as completely to conceal 
 her agitation : 
 
 “ But, father, we might better wait until Mr. 
 Muir manifests a wish that your daughter would 
 have him, or rather a wish to have your daugh- 
 ter, lest we get the fable of sour grapes thrown 
 into our faces.” 
 
 “And what is that fable, Mabel?” eagerly 
 demanded Pathfinder, who w r as any thing but 
 learned in the ordinary lore of white men — “ tell 
 it to us in your own pretty way ; I dare say the 
 sargeant never heard it.” 
 
 Mabel repeated the well-known fable, and, as 
 her suitor had desired, in her own pretty way, 
 which was a way to keep his eyes riveted on her 
 face, and the whole of his honest countenance 
 covered with a smile. 
 
 “That was like a fox!” cried Pathfinder, 
 when she had ceased, “ ay, and like a Mingo, too, 
 cunning and cruel ; that is the way with both the 
 riptyles. As to grapes, they are sour enough in 
 this part of the country, even to them that can 
 get at them, though I dare say there are seasons, 
 and times, and places, where they are sourer to 
 them that can’t. I should judge, now, my scalp 
 is very sour in Mingo eyes.” 
 
 “ The sour grapes will be the other way, child, 
 and it is Mr. Muir who will make the complaint. 
 — You would never marry that man, Mabel ? ” 
 
 « Not she,” put in Cap ; “ a fellow who is 
 only half a soldier, after all! The story of them 
 there grapes is quite a circumstance.” 
 
 “ I think little of marrying any one, dear fa- 
 ther, and dear uncle, and would rather talk about 
 it less, if you please. But, did I think of marry- 
 ing at all, I do believe a man whose affections 
 have already been tried by three or four wives 
 would scarcely be my choice.” 
 
 The sergeant nodded at the guide, as much 
 as to say, you see how the land lies ; and then he 
 had sufficient consideration for his daughter’s 
 feelings to change the subject. 
 
 “ Neither you nor Mabel, brother Cap,” he 
 resumed, “ can have any legal authority with the 
 garrison I leave behind on the island ; but you 
 may counsel and influence. Strictly speaking, 
 Corporal McNab will be the commanding officer, 
 and I have endeavored to impress him with a 
 sense of his dignity, lest he might give way too 
 much to the superior rank of Lieutenant Muir, 
 who, being a volunteer, can have no right to in- 
 terfere with the duty. I wish you to sustain the 
 corporal, brother Cap, for should the quarter- 
 master once break through the regulations of the 
 
PREPARATIONS FOR A NEW ENTERPRISE. 
 
 expedition, he may pretend to command me as 
 well as McNab.” 
 
 “More particularly should Mabel really cut 
 him adrift while you are absent. Of course, ser- 
 geant, you’ll leave every thing that is afloat under 
 
 my care ? The most d le confusion has grown 
 
 out of misunderstandings between commanders- 
 in-chief ashore and afloat.” 
 
 “ In one sense, brother, though in a general 
 way, the corporal is cOmmander-in-chief. History 
 does, indeed, tell us that a division of command 
 leads to difficulties, and I shall avoid that dan- 
 ger. The corporal must command, but you can 
 counsel freely, particularly in all matters relating 
 to the boats, of which I shall leave one behind, to 
 secure your retreat should there be occasion. I 
 know the corporal well ; he is a brave man, and a 
 good soldier ; and one that may be relied on, if 
 the Santa Cruz can be kept from him. But then 
 he is a Scotchman, and will be liable to the 
 quartermaster’s influence, against which I desire 
 both you and Mabel to be on your guard.” 
 
 “ But why leave us behind, dear father ? I 
 have come thus far to be a comfort to you, and 
 why not go farther ? ” 
 
 “ You are a good girl, Mabel, and very like 
 the Dunhams! But you must halt here. We 
 shall leave the island to-morrow before the day 
 dawns, in order not to be seen by any prying 
 eyes coming from our cover, and we shall take the 
 two largest boats, leaving you the other and one 
 bark canoe. We are about to go into the channel 
 used by the French, where we shall lie in wait, 
 perhaps a week, to intercept their supply-boats 
 that are about to pass up, on their way to Fron- 
 tenac, loaded in particular with a heavy amount 
 of Indian goods.” 
 
 “ Have you looked well to your papers, broth- 
 er ? ’ Cap anxiously demanded. “ Of course you 
 know a capture on the high seas is piracy, unless 
 your boat is regularly commissioned either as a 
 public or a private armed cruiser.” 
 
 “I have the honor to hold the colonel’s ap- 
 pointment as sergeant-major of the 55th,” re- 
 turned the other, drawing himself up with dig- 
 nity, “ and that will be sufficient even for the 
 French King. If not, I have Major Duncan’s 
 written orders.” 
 
 “ No papers them for a warlike cruiser.” 
 
 “ They must suffice, brother, as I have no 
 other. It is of vast importance to his majesty’s 
 interests in this part of the world, that the boats 
 In question should be captured and carried into 
 Oswego. They contain the blankets, trinkets, 
 rifles, ammunition— in short, all the stores with 
 which the French bribe their accursed savage 
 
 137 
 
 allies to commit their unholy acts, setting at 
 naught our holy religion and its precepts, the 
 laws of humanity, and all that is sacred and dear 
 among men. By cutting off these supplies we 
 shall derange their plans, and gain time on them ; 
 for the articles cannot be sent across the ocean 
 again this autumn.” 
 
 But, father, does not his majesty employ 
 Indians also ? ” asked Mabel, with some curiosity. 
 
 “ Certainly, girl, and he has a right to employ 
 them— God bless him ! It’s a very different thing 
 whether an Englishman or a Frenchman employs 
 a savage, as everybody can understand.” 
 
 “ That is plain enough, brother Dunham ; but 
 I do not see my way so clear in the matter of the 
 ship’s papers.” 
 
 “ An English colonel’s appointment ought to 
 satisfy any Frenchman of my authority; and 
 what is more, brother, it shall.” 
 
 “ But I do not see the difference, father, be- 
 tween an Englishman’s and a Frenchman’s em- 
 ploying savages in war ? ” 
 
 “All the odds in the world, child, though you 
 may not be able to see it. In the first place, an 
 Englishman is naturally humane and considerate, 
 while a Frenchman is naturally ferocious and 
 timid.” 
 
 “And you may add, brother, that he will 
 dance from morning till night, if you’ll let him.” 
 
 “ Very true,” gravely returned the sergeant. 
 
 “ But, father, I cannot see that all this alters 
 the case. If it be wrong in a Frenchman to hire 
 savages to fight his enemies, it would seem to be 
 equally wrong in an Englishman. You will ad- 
 mit this, Pathfinder ? ” 
 
 “ I*’ 8 reasonable — it's reasonable, and I have 
 never been one of them that has raised a cry 
 ag in the Frenchers for doing the very thing we 
 do ourselves. Still, it is worse to consort with a 
 Mingo than to consort with a Delaware. If any 
 of that just tribe were left, I should think it no 
 sin to send them out ag’in the foe.” 
 
 “And yet they scalp and slay young and old 
 — women and children ! ” 
 
 “ They have their gifts, Mabel, and are not to 
 be blamed for following them. Natur’ is Natur,’ 
 though the different tribes have different ways 
 of showing it. For my part, I am white, and en- 
 deavor to maintain white feelings.” 
 
 “ This is all unintelligible to me,” answered 
 Mabel. “ What is right in King George, it would 
 seem, ought to be right in King Louis.” 
 
 “ The King of France’s real name is Caput,” 
 observed Cap, with his mouth full of venison. 
 
 “ I once carried a great scholar as a passenger, 
 and he told me that these Lewises thirteenth 
 
L38 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 fourteenth, and fifteenth, were all humbugs, and 
 that the men’s real name was Caput ; which is 
 French for ‘ head ; ’ meaning that they ought to 
 be put at the foot of the ladder, until ready to go 
 up to be hanged.” 
 
 “ Well, this does look like being given to scalp- 
 ing, as a nat’ral gift,” Pathfinder remarked, with 
 the air of surprise with which one receives a novel 
 idea, “ and I shall have less compunction than ever 
 in sarving ag’in the miscreants, though I can’t say 
 I ever yet felt any worth naming.” 
 
 As all parties, Mabel excepted, seemed satisfied 
 with the course the discussion had taken, no one 
 appeared to think it necessary to pursue the sub- 
 ject. The trio of men, indeed, in this particular, 
 so much resembled the great mass of their fellow- 
 creatures, who usually judge of character equally 
 without knowledge and without justice, that we 
 might not have thought it necessary to record the 
 discourse, had it not some bearing in its facts on 
 the incidents of the legend, and in its opinions on 
 the motives of the characters. 
 
 Supper was no sooner ended than the sergeant 
 dismissed his guests, and then held a long and con- 
 fidential dialogue with his daughter. He was little 
 addicted to giving way to the gentler emotions, 
 but the novelty of his present situation awakened 
 feelings that he was unused to experience. The 
 Boldier, or the sailor, so long as he acts under the 
 immediate supervision of a superior, thinks little 
 of the risks he runs ; but the moment he feels the 
 responsibility of command, all the hazards of his 
 undertaking begin to associate themselves in his 
 mind with the chances of success or failure. While 
 he dwells les3 on his own personal danger, per- 
 haps, than when that is the principal considera- 
 tion, he has more lively general perceptions of 
 all the risks, and submits more to the influence 
 of the feelings which doubt creates. Such was 
 now the case with Sergeant Dunham, who, instead 
 of looking forward to victory as certain, accord- 
 ing to his usual habits, began to feel the possi- 
 bility that he might be parting with his child for- 
 ever. 
 
 Never before had Mabel struck him as so beau- 
 tiful as she appeared that night. Possibly she 
 never had displayed so many engaging qualities to 
 her father ; for concern on his account had begun 
 to be active in her breast, and then her sympa- 
 thies met with unusual encouragement through 
 those which had been stirred up in the sterner 
 % bosom of the veteran. She had never been entirely 
 at her ease with her parent, the great superiority 
 of her education creating a sort of chasm, which 
 had been widened by the military severity of man- 
 ner he had acquired by dealing so long and inti- 
 
 mately with beings who could only be kept in 
 subjection by an unremitted discipline. On the 
 present occasion, however, or after they were left 
 alone, the conversation between the father and 
 daughter became more confidential than usual, 
 until Mabel rejoiced to find that it was gradually 
 becoming endearing — a state of feeling that the 
 warm-hearted girl had silently pined for in vain 
 ever since her arrival. 
 
 “ Then mother was about my height ? ” Mabel 
 said, as she held one of her father’s hands in both 
 her own, looking up into his face with humid eyes. 
 
 “ I had thought her taller.” 
 
 “ This is the way with most children, who get 
 a habit of thinking of their parents with respect, 
 until they fancy them larger and more command- 
 ing than they actually are. Your mother, Mabel, 
 was as near your height as one woman could bo 
 to another.” 
 
 “ And her eyes, father ? ” 
 
 “Her eyes were like thine, child, too — blue 
 and soft, and inviting like ; though hardly so 
 laughing.” 
 
 “ Mine will never laugh again, dearest father, 
 if you do not take care of yourself in this expedi- 
 tion.” 
 
 “ Thank you, Mabel — hem — thank you, child ; 
 but I must do my duty. I wish I had seen you 
 comfortably married before we left Oswego ! — mj 
 mind would be easier.” 
 
 “ Married ! — to whom, father ? ” 
 
 “You know the man I wish you to love. 1 ou 
 may meet with many gayer, and many dressed in 
 finer clothes ; but with none with so true a heart 
 and just a mind.” 
 
 “ None, father ? ” 
 
 « I know of none ; in these particulars Path- 
 finder has few equals, at least.” 
 
 “But I need not marry at all. You are sin- 
 gle, and I can remain to take care of you.” 
 
 « God bless you, Mabel ! — I know you would, 
 and I do not say that the feeling is not right, for 
 I suppose it is ; and yet I believe there is another 
 that is more so.” 
 
 « What can be more right than to honor one’s 
 
 parents ? ” ' ' V 
 
 “ It is just as right to honor one’s husband, 
 my dear child.” 
 
 “ But I have no husband, father.” 
 
 “ Then take one as soon as possible, that you 
 may have a husband to honor. I cannot live for- 
 ever, Mabel, but must drop off in the course of 
 nature ere long, if I am not carried off in the 
 course of war. You are young, and may yet live 
 long ; and it is proper that you should have a 
 I male protector, who can see you safe through 
 
A CONFIDENTIAL INTERVIEW. 
 
 130 
 
 jfe, and take care of you in age as you now wish 
 to take care of me.” 
 
 “And do you think, father — ” said Mabel, 
 playing with his sinewy fingers with her own lit- 
 tle hands, and looking down at them as if they 
 were subjects of intense interest, though her lips 
 curled in a slight smile as the words came from 
 them — “and do you think, father, that Pathfinder 
 is just the man to do this ? Is he not within ten 
 or twelve years as old as yourself ? ” 
 
 “ What of that ? His life has been one of 
 moderation and exercise, and years are less to be 
 counted, girl, than constitution. Do you know 
 another more likely to be your protector ? ” 
 
 Mabel did not ; at least another who had ex- 
 pressed a desire to that effect, whatever might 
 have been her hopes and her wishes. 
 
 “ Nay, father, we are not talking of another, 
 but of the Pathfinder,” she answered, evasively. 
 “ If he were younger, I think it would be more 
 natural for me to think of him for a husband.” 
 
 “ ’Tis all in the constitution, I tell you, child : 
 Pathfinder is a younger man than half our sub- 
 alterns.” 
 
 “ He is certainly younger than one, sir — Lieu- 
 tenant Muir.” 
 
 Mabel’s laugh was joyous and light-hearted, 
 as if just then she felt no care. 
 
 “ That he is — young enough to be his grand- 
 son — he is younger in years, too. God forbid, 
 Mabel ! that you should ever become an officer’s 
 lady, at least until you are an officer’s daughter.” 
 
 “ There will be little fear of that, father, if I 
 marry Pathfinder ! ” returned the girl, looking up 
 archly in the sergeant’s face again. 
 
 “Not by the king’s commission, perhaps, 
 though the man is even now the friend and com- 
 panion of generals. I think I could die happy, 
 Mabel, if you were his wife.” 
 
 “ Father ! ” 
 
 “ ’Tis a sad thing to go into battle with the 
 weight of an unprotected daughter laid upon the 
 heart.” 
 
 “ I would give the world to lighten yours of 
 its load, my dear sir !'” 
 
 “ It might be done — ” said the sergeant, look- 
 ing fondly at his child, “ though I could not wish 
 to put a burden on yours in order to do so.” 
 
 The voice was deep and tremulous, and never 
 before had Mabel witnessed such a show of affec- 
 tion in her parent. The habitual sternness of the 
 man lent an interest to his emotions that they 
 might otherwise have wanted, and the daughter’s 
 heart yearned to relieve the father’s mind. 
 
 “ Father, speak plainly,” she cried, almost con- 
 vulsively. 
 
 “Nay, Mabel, it might not be right — your 
 wishes and mine may be very different.” 
 
 “ I have no wishes — know nothing of what 
 you mean — would you speak of my future mar- 
 riage ? ” 
 
 “ If I could see you promised to Pathfinder — 
 know that you were pledged to become his wife, 
 let my own fate be what it might, I think I could 
 die happy. But I will ask no pledge of you, my 
 child — I will not force you to do what you might 
 repent. Kiss me, Mabel, and go to your bed.” 
 
 Had Sergeant Dunham exacted of Mabel the 
 pledge that he really so much desired, he would 
 have encountered a resistance that he might have 
 found difficult to overcome ; but, by letting Nature 
 have its course, he enlisted a powerful ally on his 
 side, and the warm-hearted, generous-minded Ma- 
 bel was ready to concede to her affections much 
 more than she would ever have yielded to menace. 
 At that touching moment she thought only of her 
 parent, who was about to quit her, perhaps for- 
 ever ; and all of that ardent love for him which 
 had possibly been as much fed by the imagination 
 as by any thing else, but which had received a 
 little check by the restrained intercourse of the 
 last fortnight, now returned with a force that was 
 increased by pure and intense feeling. Her father 
 seemed all in all to her ; and, to render him happy, 
 there was no proper sacrifice that she was not 
 ready to make. One painful, rapid, almost wild 
 gleam of thought shot across the brain of the girl, 
 and her resolution wavered ; but, endeavoring to 
 trace the foundation of the pleasing hope on which 
 it was based, she found nothing positive to sup- 
 port it. Trained like a woman, to subdue her 
 most ardent feelings, her thoughts reverted to her 
 father, and to the blessings that awaited the child 
 who yielded to a parent’s wishes. 
 
 “Father,” she said, quietly, almost with a holy 
 calm — “ God blesses the dutiful daughter ! ” 
 
 “ He will, Mabel ; we have the good book for 
 that.” 
 
 “ I will marry whomsoever you desire.” 
 
 “ Nay — nay, Mabel — you may have a choice 
 of your own ” — 
 
 “ I have no choice — that is — none have asked 
 me to have a choice, but Pathfinder and Mr. 
 Muir; and between them , neither of us would 
 hesitate. No, father ; I will marry whomever you 
 may choose.” 
 
 “ Thou knowest my choice, beloved girl ; none 
 other can make thee as happy as the noble-hearted 
 guide.” 
 
 “Well, then, if he wish it — if he ask me 
 again — for, father, you would not have me offer 
 myself, or that any one should do that office foi 
 
140 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 me ” and the blood stole across the pallid cheeks 
 
 of Mabel as she spoke, for high and generous 
 resolutions had driven bacK the stream of life to 
 her heart — “ no one must spea£ to him of it ; 
 but if he seeks me again, and, knowing all that a 
 true girl ought to tell the man she marries, and 
 he then wishes to make me his wife, I will be 
 his.” 
 
 “ Bless you, my Mabel— God in heaven bless 
 you, and reward you as a pious daughter deserves 
 to be rewarded ! ” 
 
 “Yes, father — put your mind at peace — go 
 on this expedition with a light heart, and trust 
 in God. For me, you will have, now, no care. 
 In the spring — I must have a little time, father 
 —but, in the spring, I will marry Pathfinder, if 
 that noble-hearted hunter shall then desire it.” 
 
 “ Mabel, he loves you as I loved your mother. 
 
 I have seen him weep like a ehild, when speaking 
 of his feelings toward you.” 
 
 “Yes, I believe it— I’ve seen enough to satisfy 
 me that he thinks better of me than I deserve ; 
 and certainly the man is not living for whom I 
 have more respect than for Pathfinder ; not even 
 for you, dear father.” 
 
 “ That is as it should be, child, and the union 
 will be blessed. May I not tell Pathfinder this ? ” 
 
 “ I would rather you would not, father. Let 
 it come of itself— come naturally — the man should 
 seek the woman, and not the woman the man 
 The smile that illuminated Mabel’s handsome face 
 was angelic, as even her parent thought, though 
 one better practised in detecting the passing 
 emotions, as they betray themselves in the coun- 
 tenance, might have traced something wild and 
 unnatural in it — ' “ No— no — we must let things 
 take their course; father, you have my solemn 
 promise.” 
 
 “ That will do — that will do, Mabel ; now kiss 
 me— God bless and protect you, girl— you are a 
 good daughter ! ” 
 
 Mabel threw herself into her father’s arms— 
 it was the first time in her life — and sobbed on 
 his bosom like an infant. The stern old soldier’s 
 heart was melted, and the tears of the two min- 
 gled ; but Sergeant Dunham soon started, as if 
 ashamed of himself, and gently forcing his daugh- 
 ter from him, he bade her good-night, and sought 
 hia pallet. Mabel went sobbing to the rude cor- 
 ner that had been prepared for her reception, and 
 in a few minutes the hut was undisturbed by any 
 sound, save the heavy breathing of the veteran. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 “Wandering, I found on my ruinous walk 
 By the dial stone, aged and green. 
 
 One rose of the wilderness left on its stalk, 
 
 To mark where a garden had been .' 1 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 It was not only broad daylight when Mabel 
 awoke, but the sun had actually been up some 
 time. Her sleep had been tranquil, for she rest- 
 ed on an approving conscience, and fatigue con- 
 tributed to render it sweet; and no sound of 
 those who had been so early in motion had inter- 
 fered with her rest. Springing to her feet, and 
 rapidly dressing herself, the girl was soon breath- 
 ing the fragrance of the morning in the open air. 
 For the first time she was sensibly struck with 
 the singular beauties as well as with the profound 
 retirement of her present situation. The day 
 proved to be one of those of the autumnal glory 
 so common to a climate that is more abused than 
 appreciated, and its influence was in every way 
 inspiriting and genial. Mabel was benefited by 
 this circumstance, for, as she fancied, her heart 
 was heavy on account of the dangers to which a 
 father, whom she now began to love, as women 
 love when confidence is created, was about to be 
 exposed. 
 
 But the island seemed absolutely deserted. 
 The previous night, the bustle of the arrival had 
 given the spot an appearance of life that was 
 now entirely gone ; and our heroine had turned 
 her eyes nearly around on every object in sight, 
 before she caught a view of a single human be- 
 ing to remove the sense of utter solitude. Then, 
 indeed, she beheld all who were left behind, col- 
 lected in a group, around a fire which might be 
 said to belong to the camp. The person of her 
 uncle, to whom she was so much accustomed, re- 
 assured the girl, and she examined the remainder 
 with a curiosity natural to her situation. Besides 
 Cap and the quartermaster, there were the 
 corporal, the three soldiers, and the woman who 
 was cooking. The huts were silent and empty, 
 and the low, but tower-like summit of the block- 
 house rose above the bushes, by which it was 
 half concealed, in picturesque beauty. The sun 
 was just casting its brightness into the open 
 places of the glade, and the vault, over her head, 
 was impending in the soft sublimity of the blue 
 void. Not a cloud was visible, and she secretly 
 fancied the circumstance might be taken as a 
 harbinger of peace and security. 
 
 Perceiving that all the others were occupied 
 with that great concern of human nature, » 
 
ARROWHEAD’S WIFE. 
 
 141 
 
 breakfast, Mabel walked unobserved toward an 
 end of the island, where she was completely shut 
 out of view by the trees and bushes. Here she 
 got a stand on the very edge of the water, by 
 forcing aside the low branches, and stood watch- 
 ing the barely perceptible flow and re-flow c f the 
 miniature waves that laved the shore ; a sort of 
 physical echo to the agitation that prevailed on 
 the lake fifty miles above her. The glimpses of 
 natural scenery that offered were very soft and 
 pleasing ; and our heroine, who had a quick and 
 true eye for all that was lovely in nature, was not 
 slow in selecting the most striking bits of land- 
 scape. She gazed through the different vistas 
 formed by the openings between the islands, and 
 thought she had never looked on aught more 
 lovely. 
 
 While thus occupied, Mabel was suddenly 
 alarmed by fancying that she caught a glimpse 
 of a human form among the bushes that lined 
 the shore of the island that lay directly before 
 her. The distance across the water was not a 
 hundred yards ; and though she might be mis- 
 taken, and her fancy was wandering when the 
 form passed before her sight, still she did not 
 think she could be deceived. Aware that her 
 sex would be no protection against a rifle-bullet, 
 should an Iroquois get a view of her, the girl 
 instinctively drew back, taking care to conceal 
 her person as much as possible by the leaves, 
 while she kept her own look riveted on the oppo- 
 site shore, vainly waiting for some time in the 
 expectation of the stranger. She was about to 
 quit her post in the bushes, and hasten to her 
 uncle in order to acquaint him of her suspicions, 
 when she saw the branch of an alder thrust be- 
 yond the bushes, on the other island, and waved 
 toward her significantly, and, as she fancied, in 
 token of amity. This was a breathless and try- 
 ing moment to one as inexperienced in frontier 
 warfare as our heroine, and yet she felt the great 
 necessity that existed for preserving her recollec- 
 tion, and of acting with steadiness and discre- 
 tion. 
 
 It was one of the peculiarities of the exposure 
 to which those who dwelt on the frontiers of 
 America were liable, to bring out the moral 
 qualities of the women to a degree that they 
 must themselves, under other circumstances, 
 have believed they were incapable of manifest- 
 ing; and Mabel well knew that the borderers 
 loved to dwell, in their legends, on the presence 
 of mind, fortitude, and spirit that their wives 
 and sisters had displayed under circumstances 
 the most trying. Her emulation had been awak- 
 ened by what she had heard on such subjects ; 
 
 and it at once struck her that now was the mo- 
 ment for her to show that she was truly Sergeant 
 Dunham’s child. The motion of the branch was 
 such as, she believed, indicated amity ; and, after 
 ! a moment’s hesitation, she broke off a twig, fas- 
 tened it to a stick, and, thrusting it through an 
 opening, waved it in return, imitating, as closely 
 as possible, the manner of the other. 
 
 This dumb show lasted two or three minutes 
 on both sides, when Mabel perceived that the 
 bushes opposite were cautiously pushed aside, and 
 a human face appeared at an opening. A glance 
 sufficed to let Mabel see that it was the counte- 
 nance of a red-skin, as well as that of a woman. 
 A second and a better look satisfied her that it 
 was the face of the Dew-of-June, the wife of Ar- 
 rowhead. During the time she had travelled in 
 company with this woman, Mabel had been won 
 by the gentleness of manner, the meek simplicity, 
 and the mingled awe and affection with which she 
 regarded her husband. Once or twice, in the 
 course of the journey, she fancied the Tuscarora 
 had manifested toward herself an unpleasant de- 
 gree of attention ; and on those occasions it had 
 struck her that his wife exhibited sorrow and 
 mortification. As Mabel, however, had more 
 than compensated for any pain she might, in this 
 way, unintentionally have caused her companion, 
 by her own kindness of manner and attentions, 
 the woman had shown much attachment to her, 
 and they had parted, with a deep conviction on the 
 mind of our heroine that in the Dew-of-June she 
 had lost a friend. 
 
 It is useless to attempt to analyze all the ways 
 by which the human heart is led into confidence. 
 Such a feeling, however, had the young Tuscarora 
 woman awakened in the breast of our heroine ; 
 and the latter, under the impression that this ex- 
 traordinary visit was intended for her own good, 
 felt every disposition to have a closer communi- 
 cation. She no longer hesitated about showing 
 herself clear of the bushes, and was not sorry to 
 see the Dew-of-June imitate her confidence by 
 stepping fearlessly out of her own cover. The 
 two girls, for the Tuscarora, though married, was 
 even younger than Mabel, now openly exchanged 
 signs of friendship, and the latter beckoned to 
 her friend to approach, though she knew not the 
 manner herself in which this object could be ef- 
 fected. But the Dew-of-June v was not slow in 
 letting it be seen that it was in her power ; for 
 disappearing a moment, she soon showed herself 
 again in the end of a bark-canoe, the bows of 
 which she had drawn to the edge of the bushes, 
 and of which the body still lay in a sort of cov- 
 ered creek. Mabel was about to invite her to 
 
142 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 cross, when her own name was called aloud in the 
 stentorian voice of her uncle. Making a hurried 
 gesture for the Tuscarora girl to conceal herself, 
 Mabel sprang from the bushes and tripped up the 
 glade toward the sound, and perceived that the 
 whole party had just seated themselves at break- 
 fast ; Cap having barely put his appetite under 
 sufficient restraint to summon her to join them. 
 That this was the most favorable instant for the 
 interview flashed on the mind of Mabel ; and, ex- 
 cusing herself on the plea of not being prepared 
 for the meal, she bounded back to the thicket, 
 and soon renewed her communications with the 
 young Indian woman. 
 
 Dew-of-June was quick of comprehension; 
 and, with half a dozen noiseless strokes of the 
 paddles, her canoe was concealed in the bushes 
 of Station Island. In another minute Mabel held 
 her hand, and was leading her through the grove 
 toward her own hut. Fortunately, the latter was 
 bo placed as to be completely hidden from the 
 sight of those at the fire, and they both entered 
 it unseen. Hastily explaining to her guest, in 
 the best manner she could, the necessity of quit- 
 ting her for a short time, Mabel, first placing the 
 Dew-of-June in her own room with a full cer- 
 tainty that she would not quit it until told to do 
 bo, went to the fire and took her seat among the 
 re 3 t with all the composure it was in her power 
 to command. 
 
 “ Late come, late served, Mabel,” said her un- 
 cle, between two mouthfuls of broiled salmon, for, 
 though the cookery might be very unsophisticated 
 on that remote frontier, the viands were gener- 
 ally delicious ; “ late come, late served ; it is a 
 good rule, and keeps laggards up to their work.” 
 
 “ x am no laggard, uncle, for I have been stir- 
 ring near an hour, and exploring our island.” 
 
 °« it’s little you’ll make o’ that, Mistress Ma- 
 bel,” put in Muir, “ that’s little by nature. Lun- 
 die* or it might be better to style him Major Dun. 
 can in this presence ” — this was said in consider- 
 ation of the corporal and the common men, though 
 they were taking their meal a little apart — “ it 
 might be better to style him Major Duncan in 
 this presence, has not added an empire to his 
 majesty’s dominions in getting possession of this 
 island, which is likely to equal that of the cele- 
 brated Sancho in revenues and profits— Sancho 
 of whom, doubtless, Master Cap, you’ll often have 
 been reading in your leisure hours, more especially 
 in calms, and moments of inactivity.” 
 
 “ x know the spot you mean, quartermaster ; 
 Sancho’s Island — coral rock, of new formation, 
 and as bad a landfall, in a dark night and blow- 
 ing weather, as a sinner could wish to keep clear 
 
 of. It’s a famous place for cocoa-nuts and bittei 
 water, that Sancho’s Island ! ” 
 
 “ It’s no very famous for dinners,” returned 
 Muir, repressing the smile that was struggling to 
 his lips, out of respect to Mabel, “ nor do I think 
 there’ll be much to choose between its revenue 
 and that of this spot. In my judgment, Master 
 Cap, this is a very unmilitary position, and I look 
 to some calamity’s befalling it sooner or later.” 
 
 “ It is to be hoped not until our turn of duty 
 is over,” observed Mabel. “ I have no wish to 
 study the French language.” 
 
 “ We might think ourselves happy did it not 
 prove to be the Iroquois. I have reasoned with 
 Major Duncan on the occupation of this position } 
 but ‘ a wilfu’ man maun ha’ his wav.’ My first 
 object, in accompanying this party, was to en- 
 deavor to make myself acceptable and useful to 
 your beautiful niece, Master Cap ; and the second 
 was to take such an account of the stores that be- 
 long to my particular department, as shall leave 
 no question open to controversy, concerning the 
 manner of expenditure, when they shall have dis- 
 appeared by mean3 of the enemy.” 
 
 “Do you look upon matters as so serious? ” 
 demanded Cap, actually suspending his mastica- 
 tion of a bit of venison, for he passed alternately, 
 like a modem tlegant, from fish to flesh and back 
 again, in the interest he took in the answer. “ Is 
 the danger pressing ? ” 
 
 “ I’ll no say just that ; and I’ll no say just the 
 contrary. There is always danger in war, and 
 there is more of it at the advanced posts than at 
 the main encampment. It ought, therefore, to 
 occasion no surprise were we to be visited by the 
 French at any moment.” 
 
 “ And what the devil is to be done in that 
 case ? Six men and two women would make but 
 a poor job in defending such a place as this, 
 should the enemy invade us, as no doubt, French-; 
 man-like, they would take very good care to comei 
 strong-handed.” 
 
 “ That we may depend on. Some very for 
 midable force, at the very lowest. A militaryi 
 disposition might be made, in defence of the isl-l 
 and, out of all question, and according to the, 
 art of war, though we would probably fail in the 
 force necessary to carry out the design in any 
 very creditable manner. In the first place, a de- 
 tachment should be sent off to the shore with 
 orders to annoy the enemy in landing. A strong 
 party ought instantly to be thrown into the block- 
 house, as the citadel, for on that all the differeni 
 detachments would naturally fall back for sup 
 port as the French advanced ; and an entrencher 
 camp might be laid out around the stronghold, ai 
 
FEAR OF INVASION. 
 
 143 
 
 It would be very unmilitary indeed to let the foe 
 get near enough to the foot of the walls to mine 
 them. Chevaux-de-frise would keep the cavalry 
 in check, and as for the artillery, redoubts should 
 be thrown up under cover of yon woods. Strong 
 skirmishing parties, moreover, would be exceed- 
 ingly serviceable in retarding the march of the 
 enemy ; and these different huts, if properly 
 picketed and ditched, would be converted into 
 very eligible positions for that object.” 
 
 “Whe-e-w! Quartermaster. And who the 
 
 d ^ is to find all the men to carry out such a 
 
 plan ? ” 
 
 “ The king, out of all question, Master Cap. 
 It is his quarrel, and it’s just he should bear the 
 burden o’ it.” 
 
 “ And we are only six ! This is fine talking, 
 with a vengeance. You could be sent down to 
 the shore to oppose the landing, Mabel might 
 skirmish with her tongue at least, the soldier’s 
 wife might act chevaux-de-frise, to entangle the 
 calvary, the corporal should command the en- 
 trenched camp, his three men could occupy the 
 five huts, and I would take the block-house. 
 Whe-e-e-w, you describe well, Lieutenant, and 
 you should have been a limner instead of a sol- 
 dier ! ” 
 
 “Na— I’ve been very literal and upright in 
 cay exposition . of matters. That there is no 
 greater force here to carry out the plan is a fault 
 of his majesty’s ministers, and none of mine.” 
 
 “ But should our enemy really appear,” asked 
 Mabel, with more interest than she might have 
 shown had she not remembered the guest in the 
 hut, “ what course ought we to pursue ? ” 
 
 “ My advice would be to attempt to achieve 
 that, pretty Mabel, which rendered Xenophon so 
 justly celebrated.” 
 
 “ 1 ^ink you mean a retreat, though I half 
 guess at your allusion.” 
 
 “ You’ve imagined my meaning from the pos- 
 session of a strong native sense, young lady. I 
 am aware that your worthy father has pointed 
 out to the corporal certain modes and methods 
 by which he fancies this island could be held in 
 case the French should discover its position ; but 
 the excellent sergeant, though your father, and 
 as good a man in his duties as ever wielded a 
 epontoon, is not the great Lord Stair, or even the 
 Duke of Marlborough. I’ll no deny the sergeant’s 
 merits in his particular sphere, though I cannot 
 exaggerate qualities, however excellent, into those 
 of men who may be, in some trifling degree, his 
 superiors. Sergeant Dunham has taken counsel 
 of his heart instead of his head, in resolving to 
 issue such orders ; but, if the fort fall, the blame 
 
 will lie on him who ordered it to be occupied, and 
 not on him whose duty it was to defend it 
 Whatever may be the determination of the latter 
 should the French and their allies land, a good 
 commander never neglects the preparations ne- 
 cessary to effect a retreat ; and I would advise 
 Master Cap, who is the admiral of our navy, to 
 have a boat in readiness to evacuate the island, 
 if need comes to need. The largest boat that we 
 have left carries a very ample sail, and, by haul- 
 ing it round here and mooring it under those 
 bushes, there will be a convenient place for a hur- 
 ried embarkation, and then you’ll perceive, pretty 
 Mabel, that it is scarce fifty yards before we shall 
 be in a channel between two other islands, and 
 hid from the sight of those who may happen to 
 be on this.” 
 
 “ All that you say is very true, Mr. Muir ; but 
 may not the French come from that quarter them- 
 selves ? If it is so good for a retreat, it is equally 
 good for an advance.” 
 
 “ They’ll no have the sense to do so discreet a 
 thing,” returned Muir, looking furtively and a 
 little uneasily around him ; “ they’ll no have suf- 
 ficient discretion. Your French are a head-over- 
 heels nation, and usually come forward in a ran- 
 dom way ; so we may look for them, if they come 
 at all, on the other side of the island.” 
 
 The discourse now became exceeding desul- 
 tory, touching principally, however, on the prob- 
 abilities of an invasion and the best means of 
 meeting it. 
 
 To most of this Mabel paid but little attention, 
 though she felt some surprise that Lieutenant 
 Muir, an officer whose character for courage stood 
 well, should openly recommend an abandonment 
 of what appeared to her to be doubly a duty, her 
 father’s character being connected with the de- 
 fence of the island. Her mind, nowever, was so 
 much occupied with her guest that, seizing the first 
 favorable moment, she left the table and was soor 
 in her own hut again. Carefully fastening the 
 door, and seeing that the simple curtain was 
 drawn before the single little window, Mabel next 
 led the Dew-of-June, or June, as she was famil- 
 iarly termed by those who spoke to her in Eng- 
 lish, into the outer room, making signs of affec- 
 tion and confidence. 
 
 “I am glad to see you, June,” said Mabel, 
 with one of her sweetest smiles, and in her own 
 winning voice ; “ very glad to see you— what has 
 brought you hither, and how did you discover the 
 island ? ” 
 
 “Talk slow,” said June, returning smile for 
 smile, and pressing the little hand she held with 
 one of her own, that was scarcely larger, though 
 
144 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 it had been hardened by labor, “ more slow— too c 
 quick.” * 
 
 Mabel repeated her questions, endeavoring to t 
 repress the impetuosity of her feelings, and she 
 succeeded in speaking so distinctly as to be under- i 
 stood. 1 
 
 “ June, friend,” returned the Indian woman. 
 
 “ I believe you, June — from my soul I believe 1 
 you ; what has this to do with your visit ? ” 
 
 “Friend come to see friend,” answered June, ] 
 again smiling openly in the other’s face. 
 
 “There is some other reason, June: else 
 would you never run this risk, and alone — you 
 are alone, June ? ” 
 
 “June wid you — no one else. June come 
 alone, paddle canoe.” 
 
 “I hope so — I think so — nay, I know so. 
 You would not be treacherous with me, June ? ” 
 
 “ What treacherous ? ” 
 
 “ You would not betray me — would not give 
 me to the French —to the Iroquois— to Arrow- 
 head”— June shook her head earnestly,— “ you 
 would not sell my scalp ? ” 
 
 Here June passed her arm fondly around the 
 slender waist of Mabel, and pressed her to her 
 heart with a tenderness and affection that brought 
 tears in the eyes of our heroine. It was done in 
 the fond caressing manner of a woman, and it was 
 scarcely possible that it should not obtain credit 
 for sincerity with a young and ingenuous person 
 of the same sex. Mabel returned the pressure, 
 and then held the other off at the length of her 
 arm, looking her steadily in the face, and contin- 
 ued her inquiries. 
 
 « If June has something to tell her friend, let 
 her speak plainly,” she said. “My ears are 
 open.” 
 
 “ June ’ fraid Arrowhead kill her.” 
 
 “But Arrowhead will never know it.” Ma- 
 bel’s blood mounted to her temples, as she said 
 this ; for she felt that she was urging a wife to be 
 treacherous to her husband. “ That is, Mabel 
 will not tell him.” 
 
 “He bury tomahawk in June’s head.” 
 
 “That must never be, dear June; I would 
 rather you should say no more than run this risk. ” 
 
 “ Block-house good place to sleep — good place 
 to stay.” 
 
 “ Do you mean that I may save my life by 
 keeping in the block-house, June ? Surely, surely, 
 Arrowhead will not hurt you for telling me that. 
 He cannot wish me any great harm, for I never 
 injured him.” 
 
 “ Arrowhead wish no harm to handsome pale- 
 face,” returned June, averting her face, and, 
 though she always spoke in the soft gentle voice 
 
 of an Indian girl, permitting its note3 to fall so 
 low as to cause them to sound melancholy and 
 timid — “ Arrowhead love pale-face girl.” 
 
 Mabel blushed, she knew not why, and, for a 
 moment, her questions were repressed by a feel- 
 ing of inherent delicacy. But it was necessary 
 to know more, for her apprehensions had been 
 keenly awakened, and she resumed her inquiries. 
 
 “ Arrowhead can have no reason to love or to 
 hate me,” she said. “ Is he near you ? ” 
 
 “ Husband always near wife, here,” said June, 
 laying her hand on her heart. 
 
 “Excellent creature !— But, tell me, June, 
 ought I to keep in the block-house to-day — this 
 morning — now ? ” 
 
 “ Block-house very good ; good for squaw. 
 Block-house got no scalp.” 
 
 “ I fear I understand you only too well, June. 
 Do you wish to see my father ? ” 
 
 “ No here ; gone away.” 
 
 “ You cannot know that, June ; you see the 
 island is full of his soldiers.” 
 
 “ No full ; gone away ’’—here June held up 
 four of her fingers — “ so many red-coats.” 
 
 « And Pathfinder — would you not like to see 
 the Pathfinder ?— he can talk with you in the 
 Iroquois tongue.” 
 
 “ Tongue gone wid him,” said June, laughing; 
 “ keep tongue in his mout’.” 
 
 There was something so sweet and contagious 
 in the infantile laugh of an Indian girl, that Ma- 
 bel could not refrain from joining in it, much as 
 her fears were aroused by all that had passed. 
 
 “ You appear to know, or to think to know, all 
 about us, June. But, if Pathfinder be gone, Eau- 
 douce can speak French, too. You know Eau- 
 douce ; shall I run and bring him to talk with 
 
 you ? ” v 
 
 “ Eau-douce gone, too, all but heart ; that 
 there.” As June said this, she laughed again, 
 looked in different directions, as if unwilling to 
 confuse the other, and laid her hand on Mabel’s 
 bosom. 
 
 Our heroine had often heard of the wonderful 
 sagacity of the Indians, and of the surprising 
 manner in which they noted all things while they 
 appeared to regard none, but she was scarce pre- 
 pared for the direction the discourse had so sin- 
 gularly taken. Willing to change it, and, at the 
 same time, truly anxious to learn how great the 
 danger that impended over them might really be, 
 she rose from the camp-stool on which she had 
 been seated, and, by assuming an attitude of less 
 affectionate confidence, she hoped to hear more 
 of that she really desired -to learn, and to avoid 
 allusions to that which she found so embarrassing. 
 
APPREHENSIONS OF TREACHERY. 
 
 145 
 
 “ You know how much or how little you ought 
 to tell me, June,” she said, “ and I hope you love 
 me well enough to give me the information I 
 ought to hear. My dear uncle, too, is on the isl- 
 and, and you are, or ought to be, his friend, as 
 well as mine ; and both of us will remember your 
 conduct when we get back to Oswego.” 
 
 “ Maybe never get back — who know ? ” This 
 was said doubtingly, or as one lays down an un- 
 certain proposition, and not with a taunt, or de- 
 sire to alarm. 
 
 “ No one knows what will happen, but God. 
 Our lives are in his hands. Still I think you are 
 to be his instrument in saving us.” 
 
 This passed June’s comprehension, and she 
 only looked her ignorance, for it was evident she 
 wished to be of use. 
 
 “ Block-house very good,” she repeated, as 
 soon as her countenance ceased to express un- 
 certainty, laying strong emphasis on the last two 
 words. 
 
 “ Well, I understand this, June, and will sleep 
 in it to-night. Of course I am to tell my uncle 
 what you have said.” 
 
 The Dew-of-June started, and she discovered 
 a very manifest uneasiness at the interrogatory 
 
 “ No — no — no — no ” — she answered, with a 
 volubility and vehemence that was imitated from 
 the French of the Canadas, “ no good to tell Salt- 
 water. He much talk and long tongue. Think 
 woods all water ; understand not’ing. Tell Arrow- 
 head, and June die.” 
 
 “ You do my dear uncle injustice, for he 
 would be as little likely to betray you as any one.” 
 
 “ No understand. Salt-water got tongue, but 
 no eye, no ear, no nose — not’ing but tongue, 
 tongue, tongue.” 
 
 Although Mabel did not exactly coincide in 
 this opinion, she saw that Cap had not the con- 
 fidence of the young Indian woman, and that it 
 was idle to expect she would consent to his being 
 admitted to their interview’. 
 
 “ You appear to think you know our situation 
 pretty well, June,” Mabel continued — “ have you 
 been on the island before this visit ? ” 
 
 “ Just come.” 
 
 “ How, then, do you know that what you say 
 is true ; my father, the Pathfinder, and Eau-douce, 
 may be all here within the sound of my voice, 
 
 1: 1 choose to call them.” 
 
 “All gone,” said June, positively, smiling 
 good-humoredly at the same time. 
 
 “Nay, this is more than you can say certain- 
 ly, not having been over the island to examine it.” 
 
 “ Got good eyes ; see boat with men go away 
 —see ship with Eau-douce.” 
 
 36 
 
 “Then you have been some time watching 
 us ; I think, however, you have not counted them 
 that remain.” 
 
 June laughed, held up her four fingers again, 
 and then pointed to her two thumbs ; passing a 
 finger over the first, she repeated the word3 
 “ red-coats,” and, touching the last, she added— 
 “ Salt-water,” “ Quartermaster.” All this was 
 being very accurate, and Mabel began to enter- 
 tain serious doubts of the propriety of her per- 
 mitting her visitor to depart without her becom- 
 ing more explicit. Still it was so repugnant to 
 her feelings to abuse the confidence this gentle 
 and affectionate creature had evidently reposed 
 in her, that Mabel had no sooner admitted the 
 thought of summoning her uncle than she rejected 
 it, as unworthy of herself, and unjust to her 
 friend. To aid this good resolution, too, there 
 was the certainty that June would reveal noth- 
 ing, but take refuge in a stubborn silence, if any 
 attempt were made to coerce her. 
 
 “You think, then, June,” Mabel continued, as 
 soon as these thoughts had passed through her 
 mind, “ that I had better live in the block- 
 house ? ” 
 
 “ Good place for squaw. Block-house got no 
 scalp. Logs t’ick.” 
 
 “ You speak confidently, June, as if you had 
 been in it, and had measured its walls.” 
 
 June laughed, and she looked knowing, though 
 she said nothing. 
 
 “ Does any one but yourself know how to find 
 this island — have any of the Iroquois seen it ? ” 
 
 June looked sad, and she cast her eyes warily 
 about her, as if distrusting a listener. 
 
 “ Tuscarora everywhere — Oswego, here, Fron- 
 tenac, Mohawk — everywhere. If he see June, 
 kill her.” 
 
 “ But we thought that no one knew of this 
 island, and that we had no reason to fear our 
 enemies while on it.” 
 
 “ Much eye, Iroquois.” 
 
 “ Eyes will not always do, June. This spot is 
 hid from ordinary sight, and few of even our own 
 people know how to find it.” 
 
 “One man can tell — some Yengeese talk 
 French.” 
 
 Mabel felt a chill at her heart. All the sus- 
 picions against Jasper, which she had hitherto 
 disdained entertaining, crowded in a body on her 
 thoughts, and the sensation that they brought 
 was so sickening, that for an instant she im- 
 agined she was about to faint. Arousing herself, 
 and remembering her promise to her father, she 
 arose and walked up and down the hut for a 
 minute, fancying that Jasper’s delinquencies wert 
 
146 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 naught to her, though her inmost heart yearned 
 with the desire to think him innocent. 
 
 “ I understand your meaning, June,” she then 
 
 said “you wish me to know that some one 
 
 has treacherously told your people where and 
 how to find the island.” 
 
 June laughed, for in her eyes artifice in war 
 was oftener a v merit than a crime ; but she was 
 too true to her tribe herself, to say more than the 
 occasion required. Her object was to save Ma- 
 bel, and Mabel only, and she saw no sufficient 
 reason for “ travelling out of the record,” as the 
 lawyers express it, in order to do any thing else. 
 
 “ Pale-face know now — ” she added — “Block- 
 house good for girl — no matter for men and war- 
 riors.” 
 
 “ But it is much matter with me, June, for 
 one of these men is my uncle, whom I love, and 
 the others are my countrymen and friends. I 
 must tell them what has passed.” 
 
 “ Then June be kill ” — returned the young In- 
 dian quietly, though she spoke with concern. 
 
 “ No — they shall not know that you have been 
 here. Still, they must be on their guard, and we 
 can all go into the block-house.” 
 
 « Arrowhead know— see every thing, and June 
 be kill, June come to tell young pale-face friend not 
 to tell men. Every warrior watch his own scalp. 
 June squaw, and tell squaw ; no tell men.” 
 
 Mabel was greatly distressed at this declara- 
 tion of her wild friend, for it was now evident 
 the young creature understood that her communi- 
 cation was to go no further. She was ignorant 
 how far these people considered the point of hon- 
 or interested in her keeping the secret ; and, most 
 of all, was she unable to say how far any indis- 
 cretion of her own might actually commit June, 
 and endanger her life. All these considerations 
 flashed on her mind, and reflection only rendered 
 their influence more painful. June, too, mani- 
 festly viewed the matter gravely, for she began 
 to gather up the different little articles she had 
 dropped in taking Mabel’s hand, and was prepar- 
 ing to depart. To attempt detaining her was 
 out of the question, and to part from her, after 
 all she had hazarded to serve her, was repugnant 
 to all the just and kind feelings of our heroine’s 
 nature. 
 
 “ June,” she said, eagerly, folding her arms 
 round the gentle, but uneducated being, “ we are 
 friends. From me you have nothing to fear, for 
 no one shall know of your visit. If you could 
 give me some signal just before the danger comes, 
 gome sign by which to know when to go into the 
 block-house— how to take care of myself.” 
 
 June paused, for she had been in earnest in 
 
 her intention to depart ; and then she said, qui 
 etly : 
 
 “ Bring June pigeon.” 
 
 “ A pigeon ! Where shall I find a pigeon to 
 bring you ? ” 
 
 “Next hut — bring old one — June go to ca- 
 noe.” 
 
 “ I think I understand you, June ; but had I 
 not better lead you back to the bushes, lest you 
 meet some of the men ? ” 
 
 “ Go out first — count men — one — two — free 
 — four — five — six” — here June held up her fin- 
 gers and laughed — “ all out of way — good — all 
 but one — call him one side. Then sing, and fetch 
 pigeon.” 
 
 Mabel smiled at the readiness and ingenuity 
 of the girl, and prepared to execute her requests. 
 At the door, however, she stopped, and looked 
 back entreatingly at the Indian woman. 
 
 “ Is there no hope of your telling me more, 
 June ? ” she said. 
 
 “Know all now — block-house good — pigeon 
 tell — Arrowhead kill.” 
 
 The last words sufficed ; for Mabel could not 
 urge further communications, when her compan- 
 ion herself told her that the penalty of her reve- 
 lations might be death by the hand of her hus- 
 band. Throwing open the door, she made a sign 
 of adieu to June, and went out of the hut. Ma- 
 bel resorted to the simple expedient of the young 
 Indian girl, to ascertain the situation of the dif- 
 ferent individuals on the island. Instead of look- 
 ing about her with the intention of recognizing 
 faces and dresses, she merely counted them ; and 
 found that three still remained at the fire, while 
 two had gone to the boat, one of whom was Mr. 
 Muir. The sixth man was her uncle ; and he was 
 coolly arranging some fishing tackle, at no great 
 distance from the fire- The woman was just en- 
 tering her own hut ; and this accounted for the 
 whole party. Mabel now, affecting to have 
 dropped something, returned nearly to the hut 
 she had left, warbling an air, stooped as if to pick 
 up some object from the ground, and hurried 
 toward the hut June had mentioned. This was 
 a dilapidated structure, and it had been converted 
 by the soldiers of the last detachment into a sort 
 of store-house for their live stock. Among other 
 things, it contained a few dozen pigeons, which 
 were regaling on a pile of wheat that had been 
 brought off from one of the farms plundered on 
 the Canada shore. Mabel had not much difficulty 
 in catching one of these pigeons, although they 
 fluttered and flew about the hut, with a noise 
 like that of drums ; and, concealing it in hei 
 dress, she stole back toward her own hut with 
 
THE INDIAN WOMAN’S ARTIFICES. 
 
 147 
 
 the prize. It was enipty; and, without doing 
 more than cast a glance in at the door, the eager 
 girl hurried down to the shore. She had no diffi- 
 culty in escaping observation, for the trees and 
 bushes made a complete cover to her person. At 
 the canoe she found June, who took the pigeon, 
 placed it in a basket of her owm manufacturing, 
 and repeating the words, “block-house good,” 
 she glided out of the bushes and across the nar- 
 row passage as noiselessly as she had come. Ma- 
 bel waited some time to catch a signal of leave- 
 taking or amity, after her friend had landed, but 
 none was given. The adjacent islands, without 
 exception, were as quiet as if no one had ever 
 disturbed the sublime repose of Nature ; and no- 
 where could any sign or symptom be discovered, 
 as Mabel then thought, that might denote the 
 proximity of the sort of danger of which June 
 had given notice. 
 
 On returning, however, from the shore, Mabel 
 was struck with a little circumstance, that, in an 
 ordinary situation, would have attracted no atten- 
 tion, but which, now that her suspicions had been 
 aroused, did not pass before her uneasy eye un- 
 noticed. A small piece of red bunting, such as is 
 used in the ensigns of ships, was fluttering at the 
 lower branch of a small tree, fastened in a way to 
 permit it to blow out, or to droop like a vessel’s 
 pennant. 
 
 Now that Mabel’s fears were awakened, June 
 herself could not have manifested greater quick- 
 ness in analyzing facts that she believed might 
 affect the safety of the party. She saw at a glance 
 that this bit of cloth could be observed from an | 
 adjacent island ; that it lay so near the line be- 
 tween her own hut and the canoe, as to leave no 
 doubt that June had passed near it, if not direct- 
 ly under it ; and that it might be a signal to com- 
 municate some important fact connected with the 
 mode of attack, to those who were probably lying 
 in ambush near them. Tearing the little strip of 
 bunting from the tree, Mabel hastened on, scarce 
 knowing what duty next required. June might 
 be false to her ; but her manner, her looks, her af- 
 fection, and her disposition as Mabel had known 
 it in the journey, forbade the idea. Then came 
 the allusion to Arrowhead’s admiration of the 
 pale-face beauties, some dim recollections of the 
 looks of the Tuscarora, and a painful conscious- 
 ness that few wives could view with kindness one 
 who had estranged a husband’s affections. None 
 of these images were distinct and clear, but they 
 rather gleamed over the mind of our heroine than 
 rested in it, and they quickened her pulses, as 
 they did her step, without bringing with them the 
 prompt and clear decisions that usually followed 
 
 her reflections. She had hurried onward toward 
 the hut occupied by the soldier’s wife, intending 
 to remove at once to the block-house with th© 
 woman, though she could persuade no other to 
 follow, when her impatient walk was interrupted 
 by the voice of Muir. 
 
 “ Whither so fast, pretty Mabel,” he cried, 
 “ and why so given to solitude ? — the worthy ser- 
 geant will deride my breeding, if he hear that his 
 daughter passes the mornings alone and unat- 
 tended to, though he well knows that it is my ar- 
 dent wish to be her slave and companion, from 
 the beginning of the year to its end.” 
 
 “ Surely, Mr. Muir, you must have some au- 
 thority here,” Mabel suddenly arrested her steps 
 to say. “ One of your rank would be listened to, 
 at least, by a corporal.” 
 
 “ I don’t know that — I don’t know that,” in- 
 terrupted Muir, with an impatience and appear- 
 ance of alarm that might have excited Mabel’s at- 
 tention at another moment. “ Command is com- 
 mand, discipline, discipline, and authority, author- 
 ity. Your good father would be sore grieved did 
 he find me interfering to sully or carry off the 
 laurels he is about to win ; and I cannot com- 
 mand the corporal, without equally commanding 
 the sergeant. The wisest way will be for me to 
 remain in the obscurity of a private individual in 
 this enterprise ; and it is so that all parties, from 
 Lundie down, understand the transaction.” 
 
 “ This I know, and it may be well ; nor would 
 I give my dear father any cause of complaint, but 
 you may influence the corporal to his own good.” 
 
 “ I’ll no say that,” returned Muir, in his sly 
 Scotch way ; “ it would be far safer to promise 
 to influence him to his injury. Mankind, pretty 
 Mabel, have their peculiarities, and to influence 
 a fellow-being to his own good is one of the most 
 difficult tasks of hnman nature, while the oppo- 
 site is just the easiest. You’ll no forget this, my 
 dear ; but bear it in mind for your edification and 
 government ; but what is that you’re twisting 
 round your slender finger, as you may be said to 
 twist hearts? ” 
 
 “ It is nothing but a bit of cloth — a sort of 
 flag — a trifle that is hardly worth our attention at 
 this grave moment — if — ” 
 
 “ A trifle ! It’s no so trifling as ye may im- 
 agine, Mistress Mabel,” taking the bit of bunting 
 from her, and stretching it at full length with 
 both his arms extended, while his face grew grave 
 and his eye watchful. “ Ye’ll no ha’ been find- 
 ing this, Mabel Dunham, in the breakfast ? ” 
 
 Mabel simply acquainted him with the spot 
 where, and the manner in which she had found 
 the bit of cloth. While she was speaking, the 
 
148 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 eye of the quartermaster was not quiet for a mo- 
 ment, glancing from the rag to the face of our 
 heroine, then back again to the rag. That his 
 suspicions were awakened was easy to be seen, 
 nor was he long in letting it be known what di- 
 rection they had taken. 
 
 “ We are not in a part of the world where our 
 ensigns and gauds ought to be spread abroad to 
 the wind, Mabel Dunham ! ” he said, with an om- 
 inous shake of the head. 
 
 “ I thought as much myself, Mr. Muir, and 
 brought away the little flag, lest it might be the 
 means of betraying our presence here to the ene- 
 my, even though nothing is intended by its dis- 
 play. Ought not my uncle to be made acquainted 
 with the circumstance ? ” 
 
 “ I no see the necessity for that, pretty Mabel, 
 for, as you justly say, it is a circumstance, and cir- 
 cumstances sometimes worry the worthy mariner. 
 But this flag, if flag it can be called, belongs to a 
 seaman’s craft. You may perceive that it is 
 made of what is called bunting, and that is a de- 
 scription of cloth used only by vessels for such 
 purposes, our colors being of silk, as you may 
 understand, or painted canvas. It’s surprisingly 
 like the fly of the Scud’s ensign ! And now I 
 recollect me to have observed that a piece had 
 been cut from that very flag ! ” 
 
 Mabel felt her heart sink, but she had suffi- 
 cient self-command not to attempt an answer. 
 
 “ It must be looked to,” Muir continued, 
 
 “ and, after all, I think it may be well to hold a 
 short consultation with Master Cap, than whom 
 a more loyal subject does not exist in the British 
 Empire.” 
 
 “ I have thought the warning so serious,” Ma- 
 bel rejoined, “ that I am about to remove to the 
 block-house, and to take the woman with me.” 
 
 “ I do not see the prudence of that, Mabel. 
 The block-house will be the first spot assailed, 
 should there really be an attack \ and it s no well 
 provided for a siege, that must be allowed. If I 
 might advise in so delicate a contingency, I would 
 recommend your taking refuge in the boat, which, 
 as you may now perceive, is most favorably placed 
 to retreat by that channel opposite, where all in 
 it would be hid by the islands, in one or two min- 
 utes. Water leaves no trail, as Pathfinder well 
 expresses it, and there appear to be so many dif- 
 ferent passages in that quarter, that escape would 
 be more than probable. I’ve always been of 
 opinion that Lundie hazarded too much, in occu- 
 pying a post as far advanced, and as much ex- 
 posed, as this.” 
 
 « It’s too late to regret it now, Mr. Muir, and 
 we have only to consult our own security.” 
 
 “ And the king’s honor, pretty Mabel. Yes, 
 his majesty’s arms, and his glorious name, are not 
 to be overlooked on any occasion.” 
 
 “ Then I think it might be better, if we all 
 turned our eyes toward the place that has been 
 built to maintain them, instead of the boat,” said 
 Mabel, smiling ; “ and so Mr. Muir, I am for the 
 block-house, with a disposition to await there the 
 return of my father and his party. He would be 
 sadly grieved at finding we had fled, when he got 
 back, successful himself, and filled with the con- 
 fidence of our having been as faithful to our du- 
 ties as he has been to his own.” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, for Heaven’s sake, do not misun- 
 derstand me, Mabel,” Muir interrupted with some 
 alarm of manner, “ I am far from intimating that 
 any but you females ought to take refuge in the 
 boat. The duty of us men is sufficiently plain, 
 no doubt, and my resolution has been formed from 
 the first, to stand or fall by the block-house. ” 
 “And did you imagine, Mr. Muir, that two 
 females could row that heavy boat in a way to 
 escape the bark canoe of an Indian? ” 
 
 “Ah ! my pretty Mabel, love is seldom logical, 
 and its fears and misgivings are apt to warp the 
 faculties. I only saw your sweet person in pos- 
 session of the means of safety, and overlooked the 
 want of ability to use them. But you’ll no be so 
 cruel, lovely creature, as to impute to me as & 
 fault my intense anxiety on your own account ! ” 
 Mabel had heard enough. Her mind was 
 too much occupied with what had passed that 
 morning, and with her fears, to wish to linger fur- 
 ther to listen to love speeches, that, in her most 
 joyous and buoyant moments, she would have 
 found unpleasant. She took a hasty leave of her 
 companion, and was about to trip away toward 
 the hut of the other woman, when Muir arrested 
 the movement by laying a hand on her arm. 
 
 “One word, Mabel,” he said, “before you 
 leave me. This little flag may, or it may not, have 
 a particular meaning ; if it has, now that we are 
 aware of its being shown, may it not be better 
 to put it back again, while we watch vigilantly 
 for some answer that may betray the conspiracy ; 
 and if it mean nothing, why, nothing will follow. ” 
 “ This may be all right, Mr. Muir, though if the 
 whole is accidental, the flag might be the oc- 
 casion of the fort’s being discovered. ” 
 
 Mabel stayed to utter no more, but she wa3 
 soon out of sight, running into the hut ^toward 
 which she had been first proceeding. The quar- 
 ter-master remained on the very spot, and in the 
 precise attitude in which she bad left him for 
 quite a minute, first looking at the bounding figure 
 | of the girl, and then at the bit of bunting, which 
 
THE CORPORAL IN COMMAND. 
 
 149 
 
 he still held before him, in a way to denote inde- 
 cision. His irresolution lasted but for this min- 
 ute, however, for he was soon beneath the tree, 
 where he fastened the mimic flag to a branch 
 again ; though, from his ignorance of the precise 
 spot from which it had been taken by Mabel , he 
 left it fluttering from a part of the oak where it 
 was still more exposed than before, to the eyes of 
 any passenger on the river, though less in view 
 from the island itself. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 “ Each one has had his supping mess, 
 
 The cheese is put into the press, 
 
 The pans and bowls clean scalded all, 
 
 Beared up against the milk-house wall.” 
 
 Cotton. 
 
 It seemed strange to Mabel Dunham, as she 
 passed along on her way to find her female com- 
 panion, that others should be so composed, while 
 she herself felt as if the responsibilities of life and 
 death rested on her shoulders. It is true that 
 distrust of J une’s motives mingled with her fore- 
 bodings ; but, when she came to recall the affec- 
 tionate and natural manner of the young Indian 
 girl, and all the evidences of good faith and sincer- 
 ity, that she had seen in her conduct, during the 
 familiar intercourse of their journey, she rejected 
 the idea, with the unwillingness of a generous 
 disposition to believe ill of others. She saw, how- 
 ever, that she could not put her companions 
 properly on their guard without letting them in- 
 to the secret of her conference with June ; and 
 she found herself compelled to act cautiously, and 
 with a forethought to which she was unaccus- 
 tomed, more especially in a matter of so much 
 moment. 
 
 The soldier’s wife was told to transport the 
 necessaries into the block-house, and admonished 
 not to be far from it at any time during the day. 
 Mabel did not explain her reasons. She merely 
 stated that she had detected some signs, in walk- 
 ing about the island, that induced her to appre- 
 hend that the enemy had more knowledge of its 
 position than had been previously believed, and 
 that they two, at least, would do well to be in 
 readiness to seek a refuge at the shortest notice. 
 It was not difficult to arouse the apprehension of 
 this person, who, though a stout-hearted Scotch 
 woman, was ready enough to listen to any thing 
 that confirmed her dread of Indian cruelties. As 
 6oon as Mabel believed that her companion was 
 sufficiently frightened to make her wary, she 
 
 threw out some hints, touching the inexpediency 
 of letting the soldiers know the extent of their 
 own fears. This was done with a view to prevent 
 discussions and inquiries that might embarrass 
 our heroine ; she determining to render her uncle, 
 the corporal, and his men, more cautious by 
 adopting a different course. Unfortunately, the 
 British army could not have furnished a worse 
 person for the particular duty that he was now 
 required to discharge than Corporal McNab, the 
 individual who had been left in command during 
 the absence of Sergeant Dunham. On the one 
 hand he was resolute, prompt, familiar with all 
 the details of a soldier’s life, and used to war ; on 
 the other, he was supercilious as regards the 
 provincials, opinionated on every subject connect- 
 ed with the narrow limits of his professional 
 practice, much disposed to fancy the British 
 empire the centre of all that is excellent in the 
 world, and Scotland, the focus of, at least, all 
 moral excellence in that empire. In short, he 
 was an epitome, though on a scale suited to his 
 rank, of those very qualities which were so 
 peculiar to the servants of the crown that were 
 sent into the colonies, as these servants estimated 
 themselves in comparison with the natives of the 
 country ; or, in other words, he considered the 
 American as an animal inferior to the parent 
 stock, and viewed all his notions of military 
 service, in particular, as undigested and absurd. 
 Braddock himself was not less disposed to take 
 advice from a provincial than his humble imita- 
 tor ; and he had been known, on more than one 
 occasion, to demur to the directions and orders 
 of two or three commissioned officers of the 
 corps, who happened to be bom in America, 
 simply for that reason ; taking care, at the same 
 time, with true Scottish wariness, to protect him- 
 self from the pains and penalties of positive 
 disobedience. A more impracticable subject, 
 therefore, could not well have offered for the 
 purpose of Mabel, and yet she felt obliged to lose 
 no time in putting her plan in execution. 
 
 “My father has left you a responsible com- 
 mand, corporal,” she said, as soon as she could 
 catch McNab a little apart from the rest of the 
 soldiers; “for, should the island fall into the 
 hands of the enemy, not only would we be cap- 
 tured, but the party that is now out would in all 
 probability become their prisoners also.” 
 
 “ It needs no journey from Scotland to this 
 place to know the facts needful to be o’ that way 
 of thinking,” returned McNab, dryly. 
 
 “ I do not doubt your understanding it as well 
 as myself, Mr. McNab ; but I’m fearful that you 
 veterans, accustomed as you are to dangers and 
 
150 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 battles, are a little apt to overlook some of the 
 precautions that may be necessary in a situation 
 a 3 peculiar as ours.” 
 
 “ They say Scotland is no conquered country, 
 young woman, but I’m thinking there must be 
 aome mistak’ in the matter, as we, her children, 
 are so drowsy-headed, and apt to be o’ertaken, 
 when we least expect it.” 
 
 “ Nay, my good friend, you mistake my mean- 
 ing. In the first place, I’m not thinking of Scot- 
 land at all, but of this island ; and then I am far 
 from doubting your vigilance when you think it 
 necessary to practise it ; but my great fear is that 
 there may be danger to which your courage will 
 make you indifferent.” 
 
 “ My courage, Mistress Dunham, is doubtless 
 of a very poor quality, being nothing but Scottish 
 courage ; your father’s is Yankee, and were he 
 nere amang us, we should see different prepara- 
 tions beyond a doubt. Well, times are getting 
 wrang, when foreigners hold commissions and 
 carry halberds in Scottish corps ; and I no won- 
 der that battles are lost, and campaigns go wrang 
 end foremost.” 
 
 Mabel was almost in despair, but the quiet 
 warning of June was still too vividly impressed on 
 her mind to allow her to yield the matter. She 
 changed her mode of operating, therefore, still 
 clinging to the hope of getting the whole party 
 within the block-house, without being compelled 
 to betray the source whence she obtained her no- 
 tices of the necessity of vigilance. 
 
 “ I dare say you are right, Corporal McNab,” 
 she observed, “ for I’ve often heard of the heroes 
 of your country, who have been among the first 
 of the civilized world, if what they tell me of them 
 is true.” 
 
 “ Have you read the history of Scotland, Mis- 
 tress Dunham ? ” demanded the corporal, looking 
 up at his pretty companion, for the first time, with 
 something like a smile on his hard, repulsive coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 “ I have read a little of it, corporal, but I’ve 
 heard much more. The lady who brought me up 
 had Scottish blood in her veins, and was fond of 
 the subject ! ” 
 
 “ I’ll warrant ye, the sergeant no troubled him- 
 self to expatiate on the renown of the country 
 where his regiment was raised ? ” 
 
 “ My father has other things to think of, and 
 the little I know was got from the lady I have 
 mentioned.” 
 
 “She’ll no be forgetting to tell ye o’ Wal- 
 Ace ? ” 
 
 “ Wallace ! — of him I have even read a good 
 deal.” 
 
 “ And o’ Bruce -and the affair o’ Bannock* 
 burn ? ” 
 
 “ Of that, too, as well as of Colloden-muir.” 
 
 The last of these battles was then a recent 
 event, it having actually been fought within thq 
 recollection of our heroine ; whose notions of it, 
 however, were so confused that she scarcely ap- 
 preciated the effect her allusion might produce on 
 her companion. She knew it had been a victory, 
 and had often heard the guests of her patroness 
 mention it with triumph ; and she fancied their 
 feelings would find a sympathetic chord in those 
 of every British soldier. Unfortunately, McNab 
 had fought throughout that luckless day on the 
 side of the Pretender ; and a deep scar that gar- 
 nished his face, had been left there by the sabre of 
 a German soldier, in the service of the House of 
 Hanover. He fancied that his wound bled afresh 
 at Mabel’s allusion ; and it is certain that the blood 
 rushed to his face in a torrent, as if it would pour 
 out of his skin at the cicatrix. 
 
 “ Hoot ! hoot awa’ I ” he fairly shouted, “ with 
 your Culloden and Sherif-muirs, young woman • 
 ye’ll no be understanding the subject at all, and 
 will manifest not only wisdom, but modesty, in 
 speaking o’ your ain country and its many fail- 
 ings. King George has some loyal subjects in the 
 colonies, na doubt ; but ’ twill be a lang time ba- 
 fore he sees or hears any guid of them.” 
 
 Mabel was surprised at the corporal’s heat, for 
 she had not the smallest idea where the shoe 
 pinched ; but she was determined not to give up 
 the point. 
 
 “ I’ve always heard that the Scotch had two 
 of the good qualities of soldiers,” she said, “ cour- 
 age and circumspection; and I feel persuaded 
 that Corporal McNab will sustain the national 
 renown.” 
 
 “ Ask ye’r own father, Mistress Dunham : he 
 is acquaint’ with Corporal McNab, and will no be 
 backward to point out his demerits. We have 
 been in battle the’gither, and he is my superior 
 officer, and has a sort o’ official right to give the 
 characters of his subor dinates.” 
 
 “ My father thinks well of you, McNab, or he 
 would not have left you in charge of this island 
 and all it contains, his own daughter included. 
 Among other things I well know that he calculates 
 largely on your prudence. He expects the block- 
 house, in particular, to be strictly attended to.” 
 
 “If he wishes to defend the honor of the 55th 
 behind logs, he ought to have remained in com- 
 mand himsal’ ; for, to speak frankly, it goes against 
 a Scotchman’s bluid and opinions to be beaten 
 out of the field even before he is attacked. W& 
 are broadsword men, and love to stand foot tfl 
 
SUDDEN DEATH OF McNAB. 
 
 151 
 
 foot with the foe. This American mode of fight- 
 ing, that is getting into so much favor, will de- 
 stroy the reputation of his majesty’s army, if it 
 no destroy its spirit.” 
 
 “No true soldier despises caution. Even Ma- 
 jor Duncan himself, than whom there is none 
 braver, is celebrated for his care of his men.” 
 
 “ Lundie has his weakness, and is fast forget- 
 ting the broadsword and open heaths, in his tree 
 and rifle practice. But, Mistress Mabel, tak’ the 
 word of an old soldier, who has seen his fifty-fifth 
 year, when he tails ye, that there is no surer 
 method to encourage your enemy than to seem 
 to fear him ; and that there is no danger in this 
 Indian warfare, that the fancies and imaginations 
 of your Americans have not augmented and en- 
 larged upon, until they see a savage in every bush. 
 We Scots come from a naked region, and have no 
 need, and less relish for covers, and so ye’ll be 
 seeing, Mistress Dunham — ” 
 
 The corporal gave a spring into the air, fell 
 forward on his face, and rolled over on his back 
 — the whole passing so suddenly, that Mabel had 
 scarcely heard the sharp crack of the rifle that 
 sent a bullet through his body. Our heroine did 
 not shriek — did not even tremble ; the occurrence 
 was too sudden, too awful, and too unexpected 
 for that exhibition of weakness ; on the contrary, 
 she stepped hastily forward, with a natural im- 
 pulse to aid her companion. There was just 
 enough of life left in McNab to betray his entire 
 consciousness of all that had passed. His coun- 
 tenance had the wild look of one who had been 
 overtaken by death, by surprise ; and Mabel, in her 
 cooler moments, fancied that it showed the tardy 
 repentance of a wilful and obstinate sinner. 
 
 “Ye’ll be getting into the block-house as fast 
 as possible,” McNab whispered, as Mabel leaned 
 over him, to catch his dying words. 
 
 Then came over our heroine the full conscious- 
 ness ot her situation, and of the necessity of ex- 
 ertion. She cast a rapid glance at the body at 
 her feet, saw that it had ceased to breathe, and 
 fled. It was but a few minutes’ run to the block- 
 house, the door of which Mabel had barely gained, 
 when it was closed violently in her face by Jennie, 
 the soldier’s wife, who, in blind terror, thought 
 only of her own safety. The reports of five or six 
 rifles were heard while Mabel was calling out for 
 admittance ; and the additional terror they pro- 
 duced prevented the woman within from undoing 
 quickly the very fastenings she had been so very 
 expert in applying. After a minute’s delay, how- 
 ever, Mabel found the door reluctantly yielding 
 to her constant pressure, and she forced her slen- 
 der body through the opening the instant it was 
 
 large enough to allow of its passage. By this 
 time Mabel’s heart ceased to beat tumultuously, 
 and she gained sufficient self-command to act col- 
 lectedly. Instead of yielding to the almost con- 
 vulsive efforts of her companion to close the door 
 again, she held it open long enough to ascertain 
 that none of her own party was in sight, cr likely, 
 on the instant, to endeavor to gain admission ; 
 she then allowed the opening to be shut. Her 
 orders and proceedings now became more calm 
 and rational. But a single bar was crossed, and 
 Jennie was directed to stand in readiness to re- 
 move even that, at any application from a friend. 
 She then ascended the ladder to the room above, 
 where, by means of loop-holes, she was enabled to 
 get as good a view of the island as the surround- 
 ing bushes would allow. Admonishing her asso- 
 ciate below to be firm and steady, she made as 
 careful examination of the environs as her situa- 
 tion permitted. 
 
 To her great surprise, Mabel could not, at 
 first, see a living soul on the island, friend or 
 enemy. Neither Frenchman nor Indian was visi- 
 ble, though a small straggling white cloud that 
 was floating before the wind,, told her in which 
 quarter she ought to look for them. The rifles 
 had been discharged from the direction of the 
 island whence June had come, though whether 
 the enemy were on that island, or had actually 
 landed on her own, Mabel could not say. Going 
 to the loop that commanded a view of the spot 
 where McNab lay, her blood curdled at perceiv- 
 ing all three of his soldiers lying apparently life- 
 less at his side. These men had rushed to a com- 
 mon centre at the first alarm, and had been shot 
 down almost simultaneously by the invisible foe 
 whom the corporal had affected to despise. 
 
 Neither Cap nor Lieutenant Muir was to be 
 seen. With a beating heart, Mabel examined 
 every opening through the trees, and ascended 
 even to the upper story or garret of the block- 
 house, where she got a full view of the whole 
 island, so far as its covers would allow ; but with 
 no better success. She had expected to see the 
 body of her uncle lying on the grass, like those 
 of the soldiers, but it was nowhere visible. Turn- 
 ing toward the spot where the boat lay, Mabel 
 saw that it was still fastened to the shore ; and 
 then she supposed that, by some accident. Muii 
 had been prevented from effecting his retreat in 
 that quarter. In short, the island lay in the 
 quiet of the grave, the bodies of the soldiers 
 rendering the scene as fearful as it was extraor- 
 dinary. 
 
 “ For God’s holy sake, Mistress Mabel,’ ’called 
 out the woman from below, for, though her fear 
 
 
152 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 had got to be too ungovernable to allow her to 
 keep silence, our heroine’s superior refinement, 
 more than the regimental station of her father, 
 still controlled her mode of address; “for His 
 holy sake, Mistress Mabel, tell me if any of our 
 friends are living! I think I hear groans that 
 grow fainter and fainter, and fear that they will 
 all be tomahawked ! ” 
 
 Mabel now remembered that one of the sol- 
 diers was this woman’s husband, and she trem- 
 bled at what might be the immediate effect of 
 her sorrow, should his death become suddenly 
 known to her. The groans, too, gave a little 
 hope, though she feared they might come from 
 her uncle, who lay out of view. 
 
 “ We are in His holy keeping, Jennie,” she 
 answered. “We must trust in Providence, while 
 we neglect none of its benevolent means of pro- 
 tecting ourselves. Be careful with the door ; on 
 no account open it, without my directions.” 
 
 “ Oh ! tell me, Mistress Mabel, if you can any- 
 where see Sandy ? — If I could only let him know 
 that I’m in safety, the guid man would be easier 
 in his mind, whether free or a prisoner ! ” 
 
 Sandy was Jennie’s husband, and he lay dead 
 in plain view of the loop, from which our heroine 
 was then looking. 
 
 “You no tell me if you’re seeing of Sandy,” 
 the woman repeated from below, impatient at 
 Mabel’s silence. 
 
 “There are some of our people gathered 
 about the body of McNab,” was the answer, for 
 it seemed sacrilegious in her eyes to tell a direct 
 untruth, under the awful circumstances in which 
 she was placed. 
 
 “ Is Sandy amang them ? ” demanded the 
 woman, in a voice that sounded appalling by its 
 hoarseness and energy. 
 
 “ He may be certainly — for I see, one, two, 
 three, four, and all in the scarlet coats of the regi- 
 ment.” 
 
 “ Sandy ! ” called out the woman frantical- 
 ly — “ why d’ye no care for yoursal’, Sandy ? 
 Come hither the instant, man, and share your 
 wife’s fortunes, in weal or woe. It’s no a mo- 
 ment for your silly discipline, and vainglorious 
 notions of honor ? Sandy ! — Sandy ! ” 
 
 Mabel heard the bar turn, and then the door 
 creaked on its hinges. Expectation, not to say 
 terror, held her in suspense at the loop, and she 
 soon beheld Jennie rushing through the bushes, 
 in the direction of the cluster of dead. It took 
 the woman but an instant to reach the fatal spot. 
 So sudden and unexpected had been the blow, 
 that she, in her terror, did not appear to compre- 
 hend its weight Some wild and half-frantic no- 
 
 tion of a deception troubled her fancy, and sn<j 
 imagined that the men were trifling with her fear3. 
 She took her husband’s hand, and it was still 
 warm, while she thought a covert smile was strug- 
 gling on his lip. 
 
 “ Why will ye fool life away, Sandy ? ” she 
 cried, pulling at the arm. “ Ye’ll all be murdered 
 by these accursed Indians, and you no takin’ to 
 the block like trusty soldiers ! Awa’ ! — awa’, 
 and no be losing the precious moments.” 
 
 In her desperate efforts, the woman pulled 
 the body of her husband in a way to cause the 
 head to turn completely over, when the small hole 
 in the temple, caused by the entrance of a rifle 
 bullet, and a few drops of blood trickling over the 
 skin, revealed the meaning of her husband’s si- 
 lence. As the horrid truth flashed, in its full ex- 
 tent, on her mind, the woman clasped her hands, 
 gave a shriek that pierced the glades of every isl- 
 and near, and fell at length on the dead body of 
 the soldier. Thrilling, heart-reaching, appalling 
 as was that shriek, it was melody to the cry that 
 followed it so quickly as to blend the sounds. 
 The terrific war-whoop arose out of the covers of 
 the island, and some twenty savages, horrible in 
 their paint and the other devices of Indian inge- 
 nuity, rushed forward, eager to secure the coveted 
 scalps. Arrowhead was foremost, and it was bis 
 tomahawk that brained the insensible Jennie, and 
 her reeking hair was hanging at his girdle as a tro- 
 phy, in less than two minutes after she had quit- 
 ted the block-house. His companions were equal- 
 ly active, and McNab and his soldiers no longer 
 presented the quiet aspect of men who slum- 
 bered. They were left in their gore, unequivocally 
 butchered corpses. 
 
 All this passed in much less time than has 
 been required to relate it, and all this did Mabel 
 witness. She had stood riveted to the spot, gaz- 
 ing on the whole horrible scene, as if enchained 
 bv some charm, nor did the idea of self, or of her 
 own danger, once obtrude itself on her thoughts. 
 But no sooner did she perceive the place where 
 the men had fallen, covered with savages, exult- 
 ing in the success of their surprise, than it oc- 
 curred to her that Jennie had left the block-house 
 door unbarred. Her heart beat violently, for 
 that defence alone stood between her and imme- 
 diate death, and she sprang toward the ladder, 
 with the intention of descending to make sure of 
 it. Her foot had not yet reached the floor of the 
 second story, however, when she heard the door 
 grating on its hinges, and she gave herself up for 
 lost. Sinking on her knees, the terrified but coura 
 | gcous girl endeavored to prepare herself for death, 
 I and to raise her thoughts to God. The instinct 
 
AN INDIAN ATTACK. 
 
 ' / 
 
 153 
 
 of life, however, was too strong for prayer, and 
 while her lips moved, the jealous senses watched 
 every sound beneath. When her ears heard the 
 bars, which went on pivots, secured to the centre 
 of the door, turning into their fastenings, not one, 
 as she herself had directed, with a view to admit her 
 uncle, should he apply, but all three, she started 
 again to her feet, all spiritual contemplations van- 
 ishing in her actual temporal condition, and it 
 seemed as if all her faculties were absorbed in 
 the sense of hearing. 
 
 The thoughts are active in a moment so fear- 
 ful. At first Mabel fancied that her uncle had en- 
 tered the block-house, and she was about to de- 
 scend the ladder and throw herself into his arms ; 
 then the idea that it might be an Indian, who had 
 barred the door to shut out intruders, while he 
 plundered at leisure, arrested the movement. The 
 profound stillness below was unlike the bold, rest- 
 less movements of Cap, and it seemed to savor 
 more of the artifice of an enemy ; if a friend at 
 all, it could only be her uncle or the quartermas- 
 ter ; for the horrible conviction now presented it- 
 self to our heroine, that to these two, and her- 
 self, were the whole party suddenly reduced, if, 
 indeed, the two latter survived. This considera- 
 tion held Mabel in check, and for quite two min- 
 utes more a breathless silence reigned in the 
 building. During this time, the girl stood at the 
 foot of the upper ladder, the trap which led to the 
 lower opening on the opposite side of the floor ; 
 the eyes of Mabel were riveted on this spot, for 
 she now began to expect to see, at each instant, 
 the horrible sight of a savage face at the hole. 
 This apprehension soon became so intense that she 
 looked about her for a place of concealment. The 
 procrastination of the catastrophe she now fully 
 expected, though it were only for a moment, af- 
 forded a relief. The room contained several bar- 
 rels, and behind two of these Mabel crouched, 
 placing her eyes at an opening by which she 
 could still watch the trap. She made another ef- 
 fort to pray, but the moment was too horrible 
 for that relief. She thought, too, that she heard 
 a low rustling, as if one were ascending the lower 
 ladder, with an effort at caution so great as to be- 
 tray itself by its own excess ; then followed a 
 creaking, that she was certain came from one of 
 the steps of the ladder, which had made the 
 same noise under her own light weight, as she as- 
 cended. This was one of those instants into which 
 are compressed the sensations of years of ordina- 
 ry existence. Life, death, eternity, and extreme 
 bodily pain, were all standing out in bold relief, 
 from the plane of every- day occurrences ; and she 
 might have been taken, at that moment, for a 
 
 beautiful, pallid representation of herself, equally 
 without motion and without vitality. But, while 
 such was the outward appearance of the form, 
 never had there been a time in her brief career 
 when Mabel heard more acutely, saw more clear- 
 ly, or felt more vividly. As yet nothing was 
 visible at the trap ; but her ears, rendered exquis- 
 itely sensitive by intense feeling, distinctly ac- 
 quainted her that some one was within a few 
 inches of the opening of the floor : next followed 
 the evidence of her eyes, which beheld the dark 
 hair of an Indian rising so slowly through the pas- 
 sage, that the movements of the head might be 
 likened to that of the minute-hand of a clock ; 
 then came the dark skin and wild features, until 
 the whole of the swarthy face had risen above the 
 floor. The human countenance seldom appears 
 to advantage when partially concealed, and Mabel 
 imagined many additional horrors as she first saw 
 the black, roving eyes, and the expression of 
 wildness, as the savage countenance was revealed, 
 as it might be, inch by inch ; but when the en- 
 tire head was raised above the floor, a second and 
 better look assured our heroine that she saw the 
 gentle, anxious, and even handsome face, of June. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 ‘ Spectre though I be, 
 
 I am not sent to scare thee or deceive ; 
 
 But in reward of thy fidelity.” 
 
 WORDS WORTH. 
 
 It /ould be difficult to say which evinced the 
 most satisfaction, when Mabel sprang to her feet 
 and appeared in the centre of the room — our 
 heroine on finding that her visitor was the wife 
 of Arrowhead, and not Arrowhead himself, or 
 June, at discovering that her advice had been fol- 
 lowed, and that the block-house contained the 
 person she had so anxiously and almost hopeless- 
 ly sought. They embraced each other, and the 
 unsophisticated Tuscarora woman laughed in her 
 sweet accents, as she held her friend at arm’s 
 length, and made certain of her presence. 
 
 “ Block-house good,” said the young Indian— 
 “ got no scalp.” 
 
 “ It is, indeed, good, June,” Mabel answered, 
 with a shudder, veiling her eyes at the same time, 
 as if to shut out a view of the horrors she had 
 so lately witnessed. “ Tell me, for God’s sake ! 
 if you know what has become of my dear uncle ? 
 I have looked in all directions without being abb 
 to see him.” 
 
154 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “No here, in block-house?” June asked, 
 with some curiosity. 
 
 “ Indeed he is not — I am quite alone in this 
 place ; Jennie, the woman who was with me, hav- 
 ing rushed out to join her husband, and perish- 
 ing for her imprudence.” 
 
 “ June know — June see ; very bad, Arrowhead 
 no feel for any wife — no feel for his own.” 
 
 “ Ah ! June ; your life, at least, is safe ! ” 
 
 “ Don’t know — Arrowhead kill me if he know 
 
 aU.” 
 
 “ God bless and protect you, June — he will 
 bless and protect you for your humanity. Tell me 
 what is to be done, and if my poor uncle is still 
 living ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t know. Salt-water has boat ; maybe 
 he go on river.” 
 
 “ The boat is still on the shore, but neither 
 my uncle nor the quartermaster is anywhere to 
 be seen.” 
 
 “No kill, or June would see. Hide away ! 
 Red man hide ; no shame for pale-face.” 
 
 “ It is not the shame that I fear for them, but 
 the opportunity. Your attack was awfully sud- 
 den, June ! ” 
 
 “ Tuscarora ! ” returned the other, smiling 
 with exultation at the dexterity of her husband. 
 “ Arrowhead great warrior ! ” 
 
 “ You are too good and gentle for this sort of 
 life, June ; you cannot be happy in such scenes ! ” 
 
 June’s countenance grew clouded, and Mabel 
 fancied there was some of the savage lire of a 
 chief in her brow as she answered : 
 
 “ Yengeesetoo greedy — take away all hunting- 
 grounds — chase Six Nation from morning to 
 night ; wicked king — wicked people. Pale-face 
 very bad.” 
 
 Mabel knew that, even in that distant day, 
 there was much truth in this opinion, though she 
 was too well instructed not to understand that 
 the monarch, in this as in a thousand other cases, 
 was blamed for acts of which he was most prob- 
 ably ignorant. She felt the justice of the re- 
 buke, therefore, too much to attempt an answer, 
 and her thoughts naturally reverted to her own 
 situation. 
 
 “ And what am I to do, June ? ” she demand- 
 ed. “ It cannot be long before your people will 
 assault this building.” 
 
 “ Block-house good — got no scalp.” 
 
 “ But they will soon discover that it has got 
 no garrison, too, if they do not know it already. 
 You yourself told me the number of people that 
 were on the island, and doubtless you learned it 
 from Arrowhead.” 
 
 “Arrowhead know,” answered June, holding 
 
 up six fingers to indicate the number of the men. 
 
 “ All red men know. Four lose scalp already—, 
 two got ’em yet ! ” 
 
 “ Do not speak of it, June ; the horrid thought 
 curdles my blood. Your people cannot know that 
 I am alone in the block-house, but may fancy my 
 uncle and the quartermaster with me, and may set 
 fire to the building, in order to dislodge them. 
 They tell me that fire is the great danger to such 
 places.” 
 
 “No burn block-house,” said June, quietly. 
 
 “You cannot know that, my good June, and 
 I have no means to keep them off.” 
 
 “ No bum block-house. Block-house good ; 
 got no scalp.” 
 
 “ But tell me why, June ; I fear they will burn 
 it!” 
 
 “Block-house wet — much rain — logs green 
 — no burn easy. Red man know it — fine t’ing — 
 then no burn it to tell Yengeese that Iroquois 
 been here. Fader come back, miss block-house, 
 no found. No, no ; Injin too much cunning ; no 
 touch any thing.” 
 
 “I understand you, June, and hope your pre* 
 diction may be true ; for, as regards my dear fa- 
 ther, should he escape — perhaps he is already 
 dead or captured, June ? ” 
 
 “ No touch fader — don’t know where he gone 
 — water got no trail — red man can’t follow. Nc 
 bum block-house — block-house good — got nc 
 scalp.” 
 
 “ Do you think it possible for me to remair 
 here safely until my father returns ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t know — daughter tell best, when fade* 
 come back.” 
 
 Mabel felt uneasy at the glance of June’s dark 
 eye as she uttered this, for the unpleasant sur- 
 mise arose that her companion was endeavoring 
 to discover a fact that might be useful to her own 
 people, while it would lead to the destruction of 
 her parent and his party. She was about to make 
 an evasive answer, when a heavy push at the out- 
 er door suddenly drew all her thoughts to'the im- 
 mediate danger. 
 
 “ They come ! ” she exclaimed — “ perhaps, 
 June, it is my uncle, or the quartermaster. I 
 cannot keep out even Mr. Muir at a moment like 
 this.” 
 
 “ Why no look — plenty loop-hole — made pur- 
 pose.” 
 
 Mabel took the hint, and going to one of the 
 downward loops that had been cut through the 
 logs in the part that overhung the basement, she 
 cautiously raised the little block that ordinarily 
 filled the small hole, and caught a glance at what 
 was passing at the door. The start and changing 
 
ARROWHEAD’S LOVE FOR MABEL. 
 
 countenance told her companion that some of her 
 own people were below. • 
 
 “Red man,” said June, lifting a finger in ad- 
 monition to be prudent. 
 
 “Four; and horrible in their paint and bloody 
 trophies. Arrowhead is among them.” 
 
 June had moved to a corner where several 
 spare rifles were deposited, and had already tak- 
 en one into her hand, when the name of her hus- 
 band appeared to arrest her movements. It was 
 but for an instant, however, for she immediately 
 went to the loop, and was about to thrust the 
 muzzle of the piece through it, when a feeling of 
 natural aversion induced Mabel to seize her arm. 
 
 “ No — no — no — June,” said the latter — “ not 
 against your own husband, though my life be the 
 penalty.” 
 
 “No hurt Arrowhead — ” returned June, with 
 a slight shudder — “ no hurt red man at all. No 
 fire at ’em — ; only scare.” 
 
 Mabel now comprehended the intention of 
 June, and no longer opposed it. The latter thrust 
 the muzzle of the rifle through the loop-hole, and 
 taking care to make noise enough to attract at- 
 tention, she pulled the trigger. The piece had no 
 sooner been discharged than Mabel reproached 
 her friend for the very act that was intended to 
 serve her. 
 
 “ You declared it was not your intention to 
 fire,” she said, “and you may have destroyed 
 your own husband.” 
 
 “All run away before I fire — ” returned Juue 
 laughing, and going to another loop to watch the 
 movements of her friends, laughing, still heartier. 
 
 “ See — get cover — every warrior. Think Salt- 
 water and quartermaster here. Take good care 
 now.” 
 
 “Heaven be praised ! And now, June, I may 
 hope for a little time to compose my thoughts to 
 prayer, that I may not die like Jennie, thinking 
 only of life and the things of the world.” 
 
 June laid aside the rifle, and came and seated 
 herself near the box on which Mabel had sunk, 
 under that physical reaction which accompanies 
 joy as well as sorrow. She looked steadily in 
 our heroine’s face, and the latter thought that 
 her countenance had an expression of severity 
 mingled with its concern. 
 
 “ Arrowhead great warrior — ” said the Tus- 
 carora’s wife. “ All the gals of tribe look at him 
 much. The pale-face beauty has eyes too ! ” 
 
 “ June ! — what do these words — that look im- 
 ply — what would you say ? ” 
 
 “Why you so ’fraid June shoot Arrow- 
 head ? ” 
 
 “Would it not have been horrible to see a 
 
 155 
 
 wife destroy her own husband ! No, June ; rather 
 would I have died myself.” 
 
 “Very sure, dat all ! ” 
 
 “ That was all, June, as God is my judge— 
 and surely that was enough. No — no — there 
 have been sufficient horrors to-day without in- 
 creasing them by an act like this. What other 
 motive can you suspect ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t know. Poor Tuscarora gal very fool- 
 ish. Arrowhead great chief, and look all round 
 him. Talk of pale-face beauty in his sleep. Great 
 chief like many wives.” 
 
 “Can a chief possess more than one wife, 
 June, among your people ? ” 
 
 “ Have as many as he can keep — great hunter 
 marry often. Arrowhead got only June now, but 
 he look too much — see too much — talk too much 
 of pale-face gal ! ” 
 
 Mabel was conscious of this fact, w-hich had 
 distressed her not a little in the course of their 
 journey ; but it shocked her to hear this allusion, 
 coming, as it did, from the mouth of the wife her- 
 self. She knew that habits and opinions made 
 great differences in such matters, but, in addition 
 to the pain and mortification she experienced at 
 being the unwilling rival of a wife, she felt an ap- 
 prehension that jealousy would be but an equivo- 
 cal guarantee for her personal safety, in her pres- 
 ent situation. A closer look at June, however, 
 reassured her ; for while it was easy to trace in 
 the unpractised features of this unsophisticated 
 being the pain of blighted affections, no distrust 
 could have tortured the earnest expression of her 
 honest countenance into that of treachery or 
 hate. 
 
 “ You will not betray me, June,” Mabel said, 
 pressing the other’s hand, and yielding to an im- 
 pulse of generous confidence. “ You will not 
 give up one of your own sex to the tomahawk ? ” 
 
 “No tomahawk touch you. Arrowhead no 
 let ’em. If June must have sister-wife, love to 
 have you.” 
 
 “No, June; my religion, my feelings, both 
 forbid it ; and, if I could be the wife of an Indian 
 at all, I would never take the place that is yours, 
 in a wigwam.” 
 
 June made no answer, but she looked grati- 
 fied, even grateful. She knew that few, perhaps 
 no Indian girl, within the circle of Arrowhead’s 
 acquaintance, could compare with herself in per- 
 sonal attractions ; and though it might suit her 
 husband to marry a dozen wives, she knew of no 
 one, besides Mabel, whose influence she could 
 really dread. So keen an interest, however, had 
 she taken in the beauty, winning manners, kind' 
 ness, and feminine gentleness of our heroine, that 
 
156 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 ffhen jealousy came to chill these feelings, it had 
 rather lent strength to that interest, and, under 
 its -wayward influence, had actually been one of 
 the strongest of the incentives that had induced 
 her to risk so much, in order to save her imagi- 
 nary rival from the consequences of the attack 
 that she so well knew was about to take place. 
 In a word, June, with a wife’s keenness of per- 
 ception, had detected Arrowhead’s admiration of 
 Mabel; and instead of feeling that harrowing 
 jealousy that might have rendered her rival hate- 
 ful, as would have been apt to be the case with a 
 woman unaccustomed to defer to the superior 
 rights of the lordly sex, she had studied the looks 
 and character of the pale-face beauty, until, meet- 
 ing with nothing to repel her own feelings, but 
 every thing to encourage them, she had got to 
 entertain an admiration and love for her, which, 
 though certainly very different, was scarcely less 
 strong than that of her husband. Arrowhead 
 himself had sent her to warn Mabel of the coming 
 danger, though he was ignorant that she had 
 stolen upon the island in the rear of the assail- 
 ants, and was now intrenched in the citadel along 
 with the object of their joint care. On the con- 
 trary, he supposed, as his wife had said, that Cap 
 and Muir were in the block-house with Mabel, 
 and that the attempt to repel him and his com- 
 panions had been made by the men. 
 
 “ June sorry ‘ the Lily,’ ” for so the Indian, 
 in her poetical language, had named our heroine 
 — “June sorry the Lily no marry Arrowhead. 
 His wigwam big, and a great chief must get enough 
 wifes to fill it.” 
 
 “ I thank you, June, for this preference, which 
 is not according to the notions of us white wom- 
 en,” returned Mabel, smiling in spite of the fear- 
 ful situation in which she was placed ; “ but I 
 may not, probably never shall, marry at all.” 
 
 “ Must have good husband,” said June, “ mar- 
 ry Eau-douce, if don’t like Arrowhead.” 
 
 “ June ! this is net a fit subject for a girl who 
 scarce knows if she is to live another hour or not. 
 I -would obtain some signs of my dear uncle’s be- 
 ing alive and safe, if possible.” 
 
 “ June go see.” 
 
 “ Can you ? — will you ? — would it be safe for 
 you to be seen on the island ? — is your presence 
 known to the warriors? — and would they be 
 pleased to find a woman on the war-path with 
 them ? ” 
 
 All this Mabel asked in rapid connection, fear- 
 ing that the answer might not be as she wished. 
 She had thought it extraordinary that June 
 should be of the party, and, improbable as it 
 eeemed, she had fancied that the woman had cov- 
 
 ertly followed the Iroquois in her own canoe! 
 and had got in their advance, merely to give her 
 the notice which had probably saved her life. 
 But in all this she was mistaken, as June, in her im- 
 perfect manner, now found means to let her know. 
 
 Arrowhead, though a chief, was in disgrace 
 with his own people, and was acting with the 
 Iroquois temporarily, though with a perfect un- 
 derstanding. He had a wigwam, it is true, but 
 was seldom in it ; feigning friendship for the Eng- 
 lish, he had passed the summer ostensibly in 
 their service, while he was, in truth, acting for 
 the French, and his wife journeyed with him in 
 his many migrations, most of the distances being 
 passed over in canoes. In a word, her presence 
 was no secret, her husband seldom moving with- 
 out her. Enough of this to embolden Mabel to 
 wish that her friend might go out, to ascertain 
 the fate of her uncle, did June succeed in letting 
 the other know ; and it was soon settled between 
 them, that the Indian woman should quit the 
 block-house with that object, the moment a fa- 
 vorable opportunity offered. 
 
 They first examined the island, as thoroughly 
 as their position would allow, from the different 
 loops, and found that its conquerors were pre- 
 paring for a feast, having seized upon the pro- 
 visions of the English, and rifled the huts. Most 
 of the stores were in the block-house, but enough 
 were found outside to reward the Indians for an 
 attack attended by so little risk. A party had 
 already removed the dead bodies, and Mabel saw 
 that their arms were collected in a pile, near the 
 spot chosen for the banquet. June suggested 
 that, by some signs she understood, the dead 
 themselves were carried into a thicket, and either 
 buried or concealed from view. None of the 
 more prominent objects on the island, however, 
 were disturbed, it being the desire of the con- 
 querors to lure the party of the sergeant into an 
 ambush, on its return. June made her compan- 
 ion observe a man in a tree, a lookout, as she 
 said, to give timely notice of the approach of any 
 boat, although the departure of the expedition 
 being so recent, nothing but some unexpected 
 event would be likely to bring it back so soon. 
 There did not appear to be any design to attack 
 the block-house immediately ; but every indica- 
 tion, as understood by June, rather showed that 
 it was the intention of the Indians to keep it be- 
 sieged until the return of the sergeant’s party, 
 lest the signs of an assault should give a warning 
 to eyes as practised as those of the Pathfinder. 
 The boat, however, had been secured, and was 
 removed to the spot where the canoes of the In- 
 dians were hid in the bushes. 
 
SAVAGE ORGIES. 
 
 157 
 
 June now announced her intention of joining 
 her friends, the moment being particularly favor- 
 able for her to quit the block-house. Mabel felt 
 some distrust as they descended the ladder ; but, 
 at the next instant, she was ashamed of the feel- 
 ing as unjust to her companion, and unworthy of 
 herself ; and, by the time they both stood on the 
 ground, her confidence was restored. The pro- 
 cess of unbarring the door was conducted with 
 the utmost caution ; and, when the last bar was 
 ready to be turned, June took her station near 
 the spot where the opening must necessarily be. 
 The bar was just turned free of the brackets — the 
 door was opened merely wide enough to allow her 
 body to pass, and June glided through the space. 
 Mabel closed the door again, with a convulsive 
 movement ; and, as the bar turned into its place, 
 her heart beat audibly. She then felt secure; 
 and the two other bars were turned down in a 
 more deliberate manner. When all was fast 
 again, she ascended to the first floor, where alone 
 she could get a glimpse of what was going on 
 without. 
 
 Long and painfully melancholy hours passed, 
 during which Mabel had no intelligence from 
 J une. She heard the yells of the savages ; for 
 liquor had carried them beyond the bounds of 
 precaution : occasionally caught glimpses of their 
 mad orgies through the loops, and, at all times, 
 was conscious of their fearful presence by sounds 
 and sights that would have chilled the blood of 
 one who had not so lately witnessed scenes so 
 much more terrible. Toward the middle of the 
 day she fancied she saw a white man on the isl- 
 and, though his dress and wild appearance at 
 first made her take him for a newly-arrived sav- 
 age. A view of his face, although it was swarthy 
 naturally, and much darkened by exposure, left 
 no doubt that her conjecture was true; and she 
 felt as if there was now one of a species more 
 like her own present, and one to whom she might 
 appeal for succor in the last emergency. Mabel 
 little knew, alas ! how small was the influence ex- 
 ercised by the whites over their savage allies 
 when the latter had begun to taste of blood ; or 
 how slight, indeed, was the disposition to divert 
 them from their cruelties. 
 
 The day seemed a month by Mabel’s compu- 
 tation; and the only part of it that did not drag 
 were the minutes spent in prayer. She had re- 
 course to this relief from time tq time ; and at 
 each effort she found her spirit firmer, her mind 
 more tranquil, and her tendency to resignation 
 more confirmed. She understood the reasoning 
 of June, and believed it highly probable that the 
 block-house would be left unmolested until the 
 
 j return of her father, in order to entice him into 
 an ambuscade ; and she felt much less appre- 
 hension of immediate danger in consequence 
 But the future offered little ground of hope ; and 
 her thoughts had already begun to calculate the 
 chances of her captivity. At such moments, 
 Arrowhead, and his offensive admiration, filled 
 a prominent place in the back-ground ; for our 
 heroine well knew that the Indians usually carried 
 off to their villages, for the purposes of adoption, 
 such captives as they did not slay; and that 
 many instances had occurred in which individu- 
 als of her sex had passed the remainder of their 
 lives in the wigwams of their conquerors. Such 
 thoughts as these invariably drove her to her 
 knees, and to her prayers. 
 
 While the light lasted, the situation of our 
 heroine was sufficiently alarming; but, a3 the 
 shades of evening gradually gathered over the 
 island, it became fearfully appalling. By this 
 time, the savages had wrought themselves up to 
 the point of fury, for they had possessed them- 
 selves of all the liquor of the English, and their 
 outcries and gesticulations were those of men 
 truly possessed of evil spirits. All the efforts of 
 their French leader to restrain them were entirely 
 fruitless, and he had wisely withdrawn to an ad- 
 jacent island, where he had a sort of bivouac, 
 that he might keep at a safe distance from friends 
 so apt to run into excesses. Before quitting the 
 spot, however, this officer, at great risk to his 
 own life, succeeded in extinguishing the fire, and 
 in securing the ordinary means to relight it. This 
 precaution he took lest the Indians should burn 
 the block-house, the preservation of which was 
 necessary to the success of his future plans. He 
 would gladly have removed all the arms also, but 
 this he found impracticable, the warriors clinging 
 to their knives and tomahawks with the tenacity 
 of men who regarded a point of honor as long as 
 a faculty was left ; and to carry off the rifles, and 
 leave behind him the very weapons that were 
 generally used on such occasions, would have 
 been an idle expedient. The extinguishing of the 
 fire proved to be the most prudent measure, for 
 no sooner was the officer’s back turned, than one 
 of the warriors, in fact, proposed to fire the block- 
 house. Arrowhead had also withdrawn from the 
 group of drunkards as soon as he found that they 
 were losing their senses, and had taken possession 
 of a hut, where he had thrown himself on the 
 straw, and sought the rest that two wakeful and 
 watchful nights rendered necessary. It followed 
 that no one was left among the Indians to care 
 for Mabel, if indeed any knew of her existence at 
 all; and the proposal of the drunkard was re- 
 
158 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 ceived with yells of delight by eight or ten more 
 as much intoxicated and habitually as brutal as 
 himself. 
 
 This was the fearful moment for Mabel. The 
 Indians, in their present condition, were reckless 
 of any rifles that the block-house might hold ; 
 though they did retain dim recollections of its 
 containing living beings, an additional incentive 
 to their enterprise, and they approached its base 
 whooping and leaping like demons. As yet they 
 were excited, not overcome by the liquor they 
 had drunk. The first attempt was made at the 
 door, against which they ran in a body ; but the 
 solid structure, which was built entirely of logs, 
 defied their efforts. The rush of a hundred men, 
 with the same object, would have been useless. 
 This Mabel, however, did not know, and her heart 
 seemed to leap into her mouth as she heard the 
 heavy shock at each renewed effort. At length, 
 when she found that the door resisted these as- 
 saults as if it were of stone, neither trembling nor 
 yielding, and only betraying its not being a part 
 of the wall by rattling a little on its heavy hinges, 
 her courage revived, and she seized the first mo- 
 ment of a cessation to look down through the 
 loop, in order, if possible, to learn the extent of 
 her danger. A silence, for which it was not easy 
 to account, stimulated her curiosity, for nothing 
 is so alarming to those who are conscious of the 
 presence of imminent danger, as to be unable to 
 trace its approach. 
 
 Mabel found that two or three of the Iroquois 
 had been raking the embers, where they had found 
 a few small coals, and with these they were en- 
 deavoring to light a fire. The interest with which 
 they labored, the hope of destroying, and the 
 force of habit, enabled them to act intelligently 
 and in unison, so long as their fell object was kept 
 in view. A white man would have abandoned 
 in despair the attempt to light a fire with coals 
 that came out of the ashes resembling sparks ; 
 but these children of the forests had many expe- 
 dients that were unknown to civilization. By the 
 aid of a few dry leaves, which they alone knew 
 where to seek, a blaze was finally kindled, and 
 then the addition of a few light sticks made sure 
 of the advantage that had been obtained. When 
 Mabel stooped down over the loop, the Indians 
 were making a pile of brush against the door, 
 and, as she remained gazing at their proceedings, 
 she saw the twigs ignite, the flame dart from 
 branch to branch, until the whole pile was crack- 
 ing and snapping under a bright blaze. The In- 
 dians now gave a yell of triumph, and returned 
 to their companions, well assured that the work 
 of destruction wa3 commenced. Mabel remained 
 
 looking down, scarcely able to tear herself away 
 from the spot, so intense and engrossing was the 
 interest she felt in the progress of the fire. As 
 the pile kindled throughout, however, the flames 
 mounted, until they flashed so near her eyes as to 
 compel her to retreat. Just as she reached the 
 opposite side of the room, to which she had re- 
 tired in her alarm, a forked stream shot up 
 through the loop-hole, the lid of which she had 
 left open, and illuminated the rude apartment 
 with Mabel and her desolation. Our heroine now 
 naturally enough supposed that her hour was 
 come, for the door, the only means of retreat, had 
 been blocked up by the brush and fire, with hell- 
 ish ingenuity, and she addressed herself, as she 
 believed for the last time, to her Maker in prayer. 
 Her eyes were closed, and, for more than a min- 
 ute, her spirit was abstracted ; but the interests 
 of the world too strongly divided her feelings to 
 be altogether suppressed; and when they invol- 
 untarily opened again, she perceived that the 
 streak of flame was no longer flaring in the 
 room, though the wood around the little aperture 
 had kindled, and the blaze was slowly mounting 
 under the impulsion of a current of air that 
 sucked inward. A barrel of water stood in a 
 corner, and Mabel, acting more by instinct than 
 by reason, caught up a vessel, filled it, and, pour- 
 ing it on the wood with a trembling hand, suc- 
 ceeded in extinguishing the fire at that particular 
 spot. The smoke prevented her from looking 
 down again for a couple of minutes ; but, when 
 she did, her heart beat high with delight and 
 hope at finding that the pile of blazing brush had 
 been overturned and scattered, and that water 
 had been thrown on the logs of the door, which 
 were still smoking, though no longer burning. 
 
 “ Who is there ? ” said Mabel, with her mouth 
 at the loop. “ What friendly hand has a merciful 
 Providence sent to my succor ? ” 
 
 A light footstep was audible below, and one 
 of those gentle pushes at the door was heard, 
 which just moved the massive beams on the 
 hinges. 
 
 “ Who wishes to enter ? Is it you, dear, dear 
 uncle ? ” 
 
 “ Salt-water no here. St. Lawrence sweet 
 water,” was the answer. “ Open quick — want to 
 come in.” 
 
 The step of Mabel was never lighter, or her 
 movements more quick and natural, than while 
 she was descending the ladder and turning the 
 bars, for all her motions were earnest and active. 
 This time she thought only of her escape, and she 
 opened the door with a rapidity that did not ad- 
 mit of caution. Her first impulse was to rush 
 
JUNE’S RETURN TO THE BLOCK-HOUSE. 
 
 into the open air, in the blind hope of quitting 
 the blockhouse, but June repulsed the attempt, 
 and, entering, she coolly barred the door again, 
 before she would notice Mabel’s eager efforts to 
 embrace her. 
 
 “Bless you — bless you, June,” cried our hero- 
 ine most fervently — “ you are sent by Providence 
 to be my guardian angel ! ” 
 
 “No hug so tight—” answered the Tuscarora 
 woman. “ Pale-face woman all cry or all laugh. 
 Let June fasten door.” 
 
 Mabel became more rational, and ■ in a few 
 minutes the two were again in the upper room, 
 seated as before, hand in hand, all feeling of dis- 
 trust or rivalry between them being banished on 
 the one side by the consciousness of favors re- 
 ceived, and on the other by the consciousness of 
 favors conferred. 
 
 “Now tell me, June,” Mabel commenced, as 
 soon as she had given and received one warm em- 
 brace, “ have you seen or heard aught of my poor 
 uncle ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t know. No one see him ; no one hear 
 him ; no one know anyt’ing. Salt-water run into 
 river, I t’ink, for I no find him. Quartermaster 
 gone too. I look, and look, and look, but no see 
 ’em, one, t’other, nowhere.” 
 
 “Blessed be God! They must have escaped, 
 though the means are not known to us. I thought 
 I saw a Frenchman on the island, June ? ” 
 
 “ Yes — French captain come, but he go away, 
 too. Plenty of Injin on island.” 
 
 “ Oh ! June, June, are there no means to pre- 
 vent my beloved father from falling into the hands 
 of his enemies ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t know ; t’ink dat warriors wait in am- 
 bush, and Yengeese must lose scalp.” 
 
 “Surely, surely, June, you, who have done so 
 much for the daughter, will not refuse to help the 
 father ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t know fader — don’t love fader. June 
 help her own people, help Arrowhead — husband 
 love scalp.” . 
 
 “June, this is not yourself! I cannot, will 
 not, believe that you wish to see our men mur- 
 dered ! ” 
 
 June turned her dark eyes quietly on Mabel, 
 and, for a moment, her look was stern, though it 
 Boon changed into one of melancholy compassion. 
 
 “ Lily, Yengeese gal ! ” she said, as one asks 
 a question. 
 
 “ Certainly, and as a Yengeese girl, I would 
 save my countrymen from slaughter.” 
 
 “Very good — if can. June no Yengeese; 
 June Tuscarora — got Tuscarora husband — Tus- 
 carora heart — Tuscarora feeling — all over Tus- 
 
 159 
 
 carora. Lily wouldn’t run and teL French dat 
 her fader was coming to gain victory ? ” 
 
 “Perhaps not,” returned Mabel, pressing a 
 hand on a brain that felt bewildered — “ perhaps 
 not ; but you serve me, aid me, have saved me, 
 June! Why have you done this, if you only feel 
 as a Tuscarora ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t only feel as Tuscarora — feel as a gal 
 
 feel as squaw. Love pretty Lily, and put it in 
 my bosom.” 
 
 Mabel melted into tears, and she pressed the 
 affectionate creature to her heart. It was near a 
 minute before she could renew the discourse, but 
 then she succeeded in speaking more calmly and 
 with greater coherence. 
 
 “ Let me know the worst, June,” she said. 
 “To-night, your people are feasting; what do 
 they intend to do to-morrow ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t know — afraid to see Arrowhead — 
 afraid to ask question — t’ink hide away, till Yen- 
 geese come back.” 
 
 “ Will they not attempt any thing against the 
 block-house ? You have seen what they can 
 threaten if they will ? ” 
 
 “Too much rum. Arrowhead sleep, or no 
 dare ; French captain gone away, or no dare. All 
 go to sleep, now.” 
 
 “ And you think I am safe for this night, at 
 least ? ” 
 
 “ Too much rum. If Lily like June, might do 
 much for her people.” 
 
 “ I am like you, June, if a wish to serve my 
 counti’ymen can make a resemblance with one as 
 courageous as yourself.” 
 
 “No — no — no” — muttered June, in a low 
 voice ; “ no got heart, and June no let you, if had. 
 June’s raoder prisoner once, and warriors got 
 drunk; moder tomahawk’d ’em all. Such the 
 way red-skin woman do, when people in danger 
 and want scalp ” 
 
 “You say what is true,” returned Mabel, 
 shuddering, and unconsciously dropping June’s 
 hand. “ I cannot do that. I have neither the 
 strength, the courage, nor the will, to dip my 
 hands in blood.” 
 
 “ T’ink that too ; then stay where you be- 
 block-house good — got no scalp.” 
 
 “ You believe, then, that I am safe here, at 
 least until my father and his people return ? ” 
 
 “ Know so. No dare touch block-house in 
 morning. Hark ! all still now — drink rum till 
 head fall down, and sleep like log.” 
 
 “ Might I not escape ? Are there not several 
 canoes on the island ? — might I not get one, and 
 go and give my father notice of what has hap- 
 pened ? ” 
 
160 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “Know how to paddle?” demanded June, 
 glancing her eye furtively at her companion. 
 
 “Not so well as yourself, perhaps; but 
 enough to get out of sight before morning.” 
 
 “What do then'? — couldn’t paddle six — ten 
 -—eight mile ! ” 
 
 « I do not know ; I would do much to warn 
 my father, and the excellent Pathfinder, and all 
 the rest, of the danger they are in.” 
 
 “ Like Pathfinder ? ” 
 
 “ All like him who know him— you would like 
 him, nay, love him, if you only knew his heart ! ” 
 
 “No like him at all. Too good rifle— too 
 good eye — too much shoot Iroquois, and June’s 
 people. Must get his scalp if can.” 
 
 “ And I must save it if I can, June. In this 
 respect, then, we are opposed to each other. I 
 will go and find a canoe the instant they are all 
 asleep, and quit the island.” 
 
 “ No can — June won’t let you. Call Arrow- 
 head.” 
 
 “June ! you could not betray me — you would 
 not give me up, after all you have done for me ? ” 
 
 “ Just so,” returned June, making a backward 
 gesture with her hand, and speaking with a 
 warmth and earnestness Mabel had never wit- 
 nessed in her before. “ Call Arrowhead in loud 
 voice. One call from wife wake a warrior up. 
 June no let Lily help enemy — no let Injin hurt 
 Lily.” 
 
 “I understand you, June, and feel the nature 
 and justice of your sentiments ; and, after all, it 
 were better that I should remain here, for I have 
 most probably overrated my strength. But tell me 
 one thing ; if my uncle come in the night and ask 
 to be admitted, you will let me open the door of 
 the block-house that he may enter ? ” 
 
 “ Sartain — he prisoner here, and June like 
 prisoner better than scalp ; scalp good for honor, 
 prisoner good for feeling. But Salt-water hide so 
 close, he don’t know where he be himself.” 
 
 Here June laughed in her girlish, mirthful 
 ' way, for to her scenes of violence were too familiar 
 to leave impressions sufficiently deep to change 
 her natural character. A long and discursive dia- 
 logue now followed, in which Mabel endeavored 
 to obtain clearer notions of her actual situation, 
 under a faint hope that she might possibly be en- 
 abled to turn some of the facts she thus learned 
 to advantage. June answered all her interrog- 
 atories simply, but with a caution which showed 
 she fully distinguished between that which was 
 immaterial, and that which might endanger the 
 safety or embarrass the future operations of her 
 friends. Our heroine was incapable of making 
 an attempt to entrap her companion, though she 
 
 plainly perceived that, could she have been guilty 
 of the meanness, she would have found the under- 
 taking one of extreme difficulty. June, however, 
 was not required to exercise more than a discreet 
 discrimination about what she revealed ; and the 
 substance of the information she gave may be 
 summed up as follows. 
 
 Arrowhead had long been in communication 
 with the French, though this was the first occa- 
 sion on which he had ever entirely thrown aside 
 the mask. He no longer intended to trust him- 
 self among the English, for he had discovered 
 traces of distrust, particularly in Pathfinder ; and, 
 with Indian bravado, he now rather wished to 
 blazon than to conceal his treachery. He bad led 
 the party of warriors in the attack on the island, 
 subject, however, to the supervision of the French- 
 man who has been mentioned, though June, de- 
 clined saying whether he had been the means of 
 discovering the position of a place that had been 
 thought to be so concealed from the eyes of the 
 enemy or not. On this point she would say noth- 
 ing ; but she admitted that she and her husband 
 had been watching the departure of the Scud,, 
 at the time they were overtaken and captured by 
 the cutter. The French had obtained their infor- 
 mation of the precise position of the station but 
 very recently ; and Mabel felt a pang like that of 
 some sharp instrument piercing her heart, when 
 she thought that there were covert allusions of the 
 Indian woman, which would convey the meaning 
 that the intelligence had come from a pale-face in 
 the employment of Duncan of Lundie. This was in- 
 timated, however, rather than said ; and when Ma- 
 bel had time to reflect on her companion’s words, 
 and to remember how sententious and brief her 
 periods were, she found room to hope that she 
 had misunderstood her, and that Jasper Western 
 would yet come out of the affair freed from every 
 injurious imputation. 
 
 June did not hesitate to confess that she bad 
 been sent to the island to ascertain the precise 
 number, and the occupations of those who had 
 been left on it ; though she also betrayed, in her 
 naive way, that the wish to serve Mabel had in- 
 duced her principally to consent to come. In con- 
 sequence of her report, and information otherwise 
 obtained, the enemy was aware of precisely the 
 force that could be brought against them ; they 
 also knew the number of men that had gone with 
 Sergeant Dunham, and were acquainted with the 
 object he had in view, though they were ignorant 
 of the spot where he expected to meet the French 
 boats. It would have been a pleasant sight to 
 witness the eager desire of each of these two sin- 
 cere females to ascertain all that might be of con 
 
DEVICES OF THE IROQUOIS. 
 
 161 
 
 sequence to their respective friends, and yet the 
 native delicacy with which each refrained from 
 pressing the other to make revelations that w'ould 
 have been improper, as well as the sensitive, al- 
 most intuitive feeling, with which each avoided 
 saying aught that might prove injurious to her 
 own nation : as respects each other, there was 
 perfect confidence ; as regarded their respective 
 people, entire fidelity. June was quite as anx- 
 ious as Mabel could be on any other point, 
 to know where the sergeant had gone, and when 
 he was expected to return ; but she abstained 
 from putting the question, with a delicacy that 
 would have done honor to the highest civilization ; 
 nor did she once frame any other inquiry, in a 
 way to lead, indirectly, to a betrayal of the much 
 desired information, on that particular point; 
 though when Mabel, of her own accord, touched 
 on any matter that might, by possibility, throw a 
 light on the subject, she listened with an intent- 
 ness that almost suspended respiration. 
 
 In this manner the hours passed away un- 
 heeded, for both were too much interested to 
 think of rest. Nature asserted her rights, how- 
 ever, toward morning ; and Mabel was persuaded 
 to lie down on one of the straw beds provided for 
 the soldiers, where she soon fell into a deep sleep. 
 June lay near her; and a quiet reigned on the 
 whole island, as profound as if the dominion of 
 the forest had never been invaded by man. 
 
 When Mabel awoke, the light of the sun was 
 streaming in through the loop-holes ; and she found 
 that the day was considerably advanced. June 
 still lay near her, sleeping as tranquilly as if she 
 reposed on — we will not say down, for the supe- 
 rior civilization of our own times repudiates the 
 simile — but on a French mattress; and as pro- 
 foundly as if she had never experienced concern. 
 The movements of Mabel, notwithstanding, soon 
 awakened one so accustomed to vigilance; and 
 then the two took a survey of what was passing 
 iround them, by means of the friendly apertures. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 “ What had the EternaU Maker need of thee, 
 
 The world in his continuall course to keepe, 
 
 That doest all things deface ? ne lettest see 
 The beautie of his worke ? Indeede in sleepe, 
 
 The slouthfull body that doth love to steepe 
 His lustlesse limbs, and drowne his baser mind, 
 
 Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe, 
 Calles thee his goddesse, in his emrar blind, 
 
 Aild great dame Nature’s hand -maid, chearing every kind.” 
 
 Faerie Queen. 
 
 The tranquillity of the previous night was not 
 
 3T 
 
 contradicted by the movements of the day. Al- 
 though Mabel and June went to every loop-hole, not 
 a sign of the presence of a living being on the isl- 
 and was at first to be seen, themselves excepted. 
 There was a smothered fire on the spot where 
 McNab and his comrades had cooked, as if the 
 smoke that curled upwai’d from it was intended 
 as a lure to the absent ; and all around the huts 
 had been restored to former order and arrange- 
 ment. Mabel started involuntarily, when her eye 
 at length fell on a group of three men, dressed in 
 the scarlet of the 55th, seated on the grass, in 
 lounging attitudes, as if they chatted in listless 
 security ; and her blood curdled, as, on a second 
 look, she traced the bloodless faces and glassy 
 eyes of the dead. They were quite near the block - 
 house ; so near, indeed, as to have been over- 
 looked at the first eager inquiry : and there was 
 a mocking levity in their postures and gestures, 
 for their limbs were stiffening in different atti- 
 tudes, intended to resemble life, at which the soul 
 revolted. Still, horrible as these objects were to 
 those near enough to discover the frightful dis- 
 crepancy between their assumed and their real 
 characters, the arrangement had been .made with 
 an art that would have deceived a negligent ob 
 server at the distance of a hundred yards. After 
 carefully examining the shores of the island, June 
 pointed out to her companion the fourth soldier, 
 seated with his feet hanging over the water, hi 3 
 back fastened to a sapling, and holding a fishing, 
 rod in his hand. The scalpless heads were cov- 
 ered with the caps, and all appearance of blood 
 had been carefully washed from each countenance. 
 
 Mabel sickened at this sight, which not only 
 did so much violence to all her notions of pro- 
 priety, but which was in itself so revolting, and 
 so opposed to natural feeling. She withdrew to 
 a seat, and hid her face in her apron for several 
 minutes, until a low call from June again drew 
 her to a loop-hole. The latter then pointed out 
 the body of Jennie, seemingly standing in the 
 door of a hut, leaning forward as if to look at the 
 group of men, her cap fluttering in the wind, and. 
 her hand grasping a broom. The distance was 
 too great to distinguish the features very accu- 
 rately ; but Mabel fancied that the jaw had been 
 depressed, as if to distort the mouth into a sort 
 of horrible laugh. 
 
 “ June ! June ! ” she exclaimed, “ this exceed* 
 all I have ever heard or imagined as possible, in 
 the treachery and artifices of your people.” 
 
 “ Tuscarora very cunning,” said June, in a 
 way to show that she rather approved of than con- 
 demned the uses to which the dead bodies had been 
 applied. Do soldier no harm now ; do Iroquois 
 
162 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 good; got the scalp, first; now make bodies work. 
 
 By and by, burn ’em.” 
 
 This speech told Mabel how far she was sep- 
 arated from her friend in character; and it was 
 several minutes before she could again address 
 her. But this temporary aversion was lost on 
 June, who set about preparing their simple break- 
 fast, in a way to show how insensible she was to 
 feelings in others, that her own habits taught her 
 to discard. Mabel ate sparingly, and her com- 
 panion as if nothing had happened. Then they 
 had leisure again for their thoughts, and for fur- 
 ther surveys of the island. Our heroine, though 
 devoured with a feverish desire to be always at 
 the loops, seldom went that she did not immedi- 
 ately quit them in disgust, though compelled by 
 her apprehensions to return again in a tew min- 
 utes, called by the rustling of leaves or the sigh- 
 ing of the wind. It was, indeed, a solemn thing 
 to look out upon that deserted spot, peopled by 
 the dead in the panoply of the living, and thrown 
 into the attitudes and acts of careless merriment 
 and rude enjoyment. The effect on our heroine 
 was much as if she had found herself an observer 
 of the revelries of demons. 
 
 Throughout the livelong day not an Indian nor 
 a Frenchman was to be seen, and night closed 
 over the frightful but silent masquerade with the 
 Steady and unalterable progress with which earth 
 obeys her laws, indifferent to the petty actors and 
 petty scenes that are in daily bustle and daily oc- 
 currence on her bosom. The night was far more 
 quiet than that which had preceded it, and Mabel 
 slept with an increasing confidence, for she now 
 felt satisfied that her own fate would not be de- 
 cided until the return of her father. The follow- 
 ing day he was expected, however, and, when our 
 heroine awoke she ran eagerly to the loops in 
 order to ascertain the state of the weather and 
 the aspect of the skies, as well as the condition 
 of the island. There lounged the fearful group 
 on the grass ; the fisherman still hung over the 
 water, seemingly intent on his sport ; and the dis- 
 torted countenance of Jennie glared from out the 
 hut in horrible contortions. But the weather had 
 changed. The wind blew fresh from the south- 
 ward, and, though the air was bland, it was filled 
 with the elements of storm. 
 
 « This grows more and more difficult to bear, 
 June,” Mabel said, when she left the window. 
 “ I could even prefer to see the enemy than to 
 look any longer on this fearful array of the 
 dead.” 
 
 “Hush!— here they come. June thought 
 hear a cry, like a warrior’s shout when he take a 
 scalp.” 
 
 “ What mean you ? — There is no more butch 
 ery ! There can be no more.” 
 
 “ Salt-water ! ” exclaimed June, laughing, as 
 she stood peeping through a loop-hole. 
 
 “ My dear uncle ! — Thank God, he then lives. 
 
 Oh ! June — June, you will not let them harm 
 
 him ? ” 
 
 “ June poor squaw. What warrior t’ink of 
 what she say ? Arrowhead bring him here.” 
 
 By this time Mabel was at a loop, and suro 
 enough there were Cap and the quartermaster in 
 the hands of the Indians, eight or ten of whom 
 were conducting them to the foot of the block ; 
 for by this capture the enemy now well knew that 
 there could be no man in the building. Mabel 
 scarcely breathed until the whole party stood 
 ranged directly before the door, when she was re- 
 joiced to see that the French officer was among 
 them. A low conversation followed, in which 
 both the white leader and Arrowhead spoke ear- 
 nestly to their captives, when the quartermaster 
 called out to her, in a voice loud enough to be 
 heard. 
 
 “Pretty Mabel! — pretty Mabel!” he said— 
 
 “ look out of one of the loop-holes, and pity our 
 condition. We are threatened with instant death, 
 unless you open the door to the conquerors. Re- 
 lent then, or we’ll no be wearing our scalps half 
 an hour from this blessed moment ! ” 
 
 Mabel thought there were mockery and levity 
 in this appeal, and its manner rather fortified, than ! 
 weakened her resolution to hold the place as long 
 as possible. 
 
 “Speak to me, uncle,” she said, with her 
 mouth at a loop, “ and tell me what I ought to 
 do ! ” 
 
 “ Thank God !— thank God ! ” ejaculated Cap : 
 “ the sound of your sweet voice, Magnet, lightens 
 my heart of a heavy load, for I feared you had 
 shared the fate of poor Jennie. My breast has 
 felt the last four-and-twenty hours as if a ton of 
 kentledge had been stowed in it. You ask me 
 what you ought to do, child, and I do not know 
 how to advise you, though you are my own sis- 
 ter’s daughter ! The most I can say just now, my 
 poor girl, is most heartily to curse the day you or; 
 I ever saw this bit of fresh water.” 
 
 “ But, uncle, is your life in danger — do you 
 think I ought to open the door ? ” 
 
 “ A round turn and two half-hitches makes a 
 fast belay ; and I would counsel no one who id 
 out of the hands of these devils, to unbar or unj 
 fasten any thing, in order to fall into them. As 
 to the quartermaster and myself, we are botl 
 elderly men, and not of much account to mankim 
 in general, as honest Pathfinder would say; and i 
 
CAP AND MUIR AS PRISONERS. 
 
 163 
 
 can make no great odds to him whether he balan- 
 ces the purser’s books this year or the next ; and 
 as for myself, why, if I were on the seaboard I 
 should know what to do — but up here in this wa- 
 tery wilderness, I can only say that, if I were be- 
 hind that bit of a bulwark, it would take a good 
 leal of Indian logic to rouse me out of it.” 
 
 “ You’ll no be minding all your uncle says, 
 pretty Mabel,” put in Muir, “ for distress is obvi- 
 ously fast unsettling his faculties, and he is far 
 from calculating all the necessities of the emer- 
 gency. We are in the hands here of very con- 
 siderate and gentlemanly pairsons, it must be 
 acknowledged, and one has little occasion to ap- 
 prehend disagreeable violence. The casualties 
 that have occurred are the common incidents of 
 war, and can no change our sentiments of the 
 enemy, for they are far from indicating that any 
 injustice will be done the prisoners. I’m sure 
 that neither Master Cap nor myself has any cause 
 of complaint since we have given ourselves up to 
 Master Arrowhead, who reminds me of a Roman, 
 or a Spartan, by his virtues and moderation ; but 
 ye’ll be remembering that usages differ, and that 
 our scalps may be lawful sacrifices to appease the 
 manes of fallen foes, unless you save them by 
 capitulation.” 
 
 “ I shall do wiser to keep within the block- 
 house until the fate of the island is settled,” re- 
 turned Mabel. “ Our enemies can feel no concern 
 on account of one like me, knowing that I can do 
 them no harm ; and I greatly prefer to remain 
 here, as more befitting my sex and years.” 
 
 “ If nothing but your convenience were con- 
 cerned, Mabel, we should all cheerfully acquiesce 
 in your wishes ; but these gentlemen fancy that 
 the work will aid their operations, and they have 
 a strong desire to possess it. To be frank with 
 you, finding myself and your uncle in a very pecu- 
 liar situation, I acknowledge that, to avert conse- 
 quences, I have assumed the power that belongs to 
 his majesty’s commission, and entered into a ver- 
 bal capitulation, by which I have engaged to give 
 up the block-house and the whole island. It is 
 the fortune of war, and must be submitted to ; 
 so open the door, pretty Mabel, forthwith, and 
 confide yourself to the care of those who know 
 how to treat beauty and virtue in distress. 
 There’s no courtier in Scotland more complaisant 
 than this chief, or who is more familiar with the 
 laws of decorum.” 
 
 “ No leave block-house,” muttered June, who 
 stood at Mabel’s side, attentive to all that passed. 
 “Block-house good ; got no scalp.” 
 
 Our heroine might have yielded, but for this 
 •ppeal ; for it began to appear to her, that the 
 
 wisest course would be to conciliate the enemy 
 by concessions, instead of exasperating them by 
 resistance. They must know that Muir and her 
 uncle were in their power ; that there was no 
 man in the building ; and she fancied they might 
 proceed to batter down the door, or to cut their 
 way through the logs with axes, if she obstinate- 
 ly refused to give them peaceable admission, 
 since there was no longer any reason to dread the 
 rifle. But the words of June induced her to 
 hesitate ; and the earnest pressure of the hand, 
 and entreating looks of her companion, strength- 
 ened a resolution that was faltering. 
 
 “ No prisoner yet,” whispered June — “ let ’em 
 make prisoner, before ’ey take prisoner — talk 
 big ; June manage ’m.” 
 
 Mabel now began to parley more resolutely 
 with Muir, for her uncle seemed disposed to quiet 
 his conscience by holding his tongue ; and she 
 plainly intimated that it was not her intention to 
 yield the building. 
 
 “You forget the capitulation, Mistress Ma- 
 bel,” said Muir ; “ the honor of one of his Majes- 
 ty’s servants is concerned ; and the honor of his 
 majesty through his servant. You will remember 
 the finesse and delicacy that belong to military 
 honor ? ” 
 
 “ I know enough, Mr. Muir, to understand 
 that you have no command in this expedition, 
 and, therefore, can have no right to yield the 
 block-house ; and I remember, moreover, to have 
 heard my father say, that a prisoner loses all his 
 authority, for the time being.” 
 
 “ Rank sophistry, pretty Mabel, and treason 
 to the king, as well as dishonoring his commis- 
 sion, and discrediting his name. You’ll no be 
 persevering in your intentions, when your better 
 judgment has had leisure to reflect, and to make 
 conclusions on matters and circumstances.” 
 
 “ Ay,” put in Cap, “ this is a circumstance, 
 and be d d to it ! ” 
 
 “No mind what ’e uncle say,” ejaculated 
 June, who was occupied in a far comer of the 
 room. “ Block-house good ; got no scalp.” 
 
 “ I shall remain as I am, Mr. Muir, until I get 
 some tidings of my father. He will return in the 
 course of the next ten days.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Mabel, this artifice will no deceive the 
 enemy, who, by means that would be unintelli- 
 gible, did not our suspicions rest on an unhappy 
 young man with too much plausibility, are famil- 
 iar with all our doings and plans, and well know 
 that the sun will not set before the worthy ser- 
 geant and his companions will be in their power. 
 Aweel! Submission to Providence is truly s 
 Christian virtue ! ” 
 
L64 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “ Mr. Muir, you appear to be deceived in the 
 strength of this work, and to fancy it weaker 
 than it is. Do you desire to see what I can do 
 in the way of defence, if so disposed ? ” 
 
 “ I dinna’ mind if I do,” answered the quar- 
 termaster, who always grew Scotch as he grew 
 interested. 
 
 “ What do you think of that, then ? Look 
 At the loop of the upper story.” 
 
 As soon as Mabel had spoken, all eyes were 
 turned upward and beheld the muzzle of a rifle 
 cautiously thrust through a hole— June having 
 resorted again to a ruse that had already proved 
 so successful. The result did not disappoint ex- 
 pectation. No sooner did the Indians catch a 
 sight of the fatal weapon, than they leaped aside, 
 and in less than a minute every man among them 
 had sought a cover. The French officer kept his 
 eye on the barrel of the piece, in order to ascer- 
 tain that it was not pointed in his particular di- 
 rection, and he coolly took a pinch of snuff. As 
 neither Muir nor Cap had any thing to apprehend 
 from the quarter in which the others were men- 
 aced, they kept their ground. 
 
 “Be wise, my pretty Mabel, be wise,” ex- 
 claimed the former, “ and no be provoking use- 
 less contention. In the name of all the kings of 
 Albin, whom have ye closeted with you in that 
 wooden tower, that seemeth so bloody-minded ? 
 There is necromancy about this matter, and all our 
 characters may be involved in the explanation. 
 
 “ What do you think of the Pathfinder, Mas- 
 ter Muir, for a garrison to so strong a post? 
 cried Mabel, resorting to an equivocation that the 
 circumstances rendered very excusable. “ What 
 will your French and Indian companions think of 
 the aim of the Pathfinder’s rifle ? ” 
 
 “ Bear gently on the unfortunate, pretty Ma- 
 bel, and do not confound the king’s servants, may 
 Heaven bless him and all his royal lineage ! with 
 the king’s enemies. If Pathfinder be indeed in 
 the block-house, let him speak, and we will hold 
 our negotiations directly with him. He knows us 
 as friends, and we fear no evil at his hands, and 
 least of all to myself; for a generous mind is apt 
 to render rivalry in a certain interest a sure ground 
 of respect and amity; since admiration of the 
 same woman proves a community of feeling and 
 tastes.” 
 
 The reliance on Pathfinder’s friendship did 
 not extend beyond the quartermaster and Cap, 
 however, for even the French officer, who had 
 hitherto stood his ground so well, shrank back 
 at the sound of the terrible name. So unwilling, 
 indeed, did this individual, a man of iron nerves, 
 and one long accustomed to the dangers of the 
 
 peculiar warfare in which he was engaged, ap- 
 pear to be to remain exposed to the assaults of 
 Killdeer, whose reputation throughout all that 
 frontier was as well established as that of Marl- 
 borough in Europe, that he did not disdain to 
 seek a cover, insisting that his two prisoners 
 should follow him. Mabel was too glad to be rid 
 of her enemies to lament the departure of her 
 friends, though she kissed her hand to Cap, 
 through the loop, and called out to him in terms 
 of affection as he moved slowly and unwillingly 
 away. 
 
 The enemy now seemed disposed to abandon 
 all attempts on the block-house for the present ; 
 and June, who had ascended to a trap in the roof, 
 whence the best view was to be obtained, report- 
 ed that the whole party had assembled to eat, on 
 a distant and sheltered part of the island, where 
 Muir and Cap were quietly sharing in the good 
 things that were going, as if they had no concern 
 on their minds. This information greatly relieved 
 Mabel, and she began to turn her thoughts again 
 to the means of effecting her own escape, or at 
 least of letting her father know of the danger | 
 that awaited him. The sergeant was expected to 
 return that afternoon, and she knew that a mo- 
 ment gained or lost might decide his fate. 
 
 Three or four hours flew by. The island was 
 again buried in a profound quiet, the day was 
 wearing away, and yet Mabel had decided on noth- 
 ing. June was in the basement preparing their 
 frugal meal, and Mabel herself had ascended to 
 the roof, which was provided with a trap that al- 
 lowed her to go out on the top of the building, 
 whence she commanded the best view of sur- 
 rounding objects that the island possessed. Still 
 it was limited, and much obstructed by the tops 
 of trees. The anxious girl did not dare to thrust 
 her person in sight, knowing well that the unre- 
 strained passions of some savage might induce 
 him to send a bullet through her brain. She 
 merely kept her head out of the trap, therefore, 
 whence, in the course of the afternoon, she made 
 as many surveys of the different channels about 
 the island, as “ Anne, sister Anne,” took of the 
 environs of the castle of Blue Beard. 
 
 The sun had actually set, no intelligence had 
 been received from the boats, and Mabel ascended 
 to the roof, to take a last look, hoping that the 
 party would arrive in the darkness ; which would 
 at least prevent the Indians from rendering their 
 ambuscade as fatal as it might otherwise prove, 
 and which possibly might enable her to give some 
 more intelligible signal by means of fire, than it 
 would otherwise be in her power to do. Her eye 
 had turned carefully round the whole horizon, 
 
APPEARANCE OF CHINGACIIGOOK. 
 
 165 
 
 tnd she was just on the point of drawing in her 
 person, when an object that struck her as new 
 caught her attention. The islands lay grouped 
 so closely, that six or eight different channels or 
 passages between them were in view ; and in one 
 of the most covered, concealed in a great measure 
 by the bushes of the shore, lay, what a second look 
 assured her, was a bark canoe. It contained a 
 human being, beyond a question. Confident that, 
 if an enemy, her signal could do no harm, and, if 
 a friend, that it might do good, the eager girl 
 waved a little flag toward the stranger, which she 
 had prepared for her father, taking care that it 
 should not be seen from the island. 
 
 Mabel had repeated her signal eight or ten 
 times in vain, and she began to despair of its be- 
 ing noticed, when a sign was given in return, by 
 the wave of a paddle, and the man so far discov- 
 ered himself, as to let her see it was Chingach- 
 gook. Here, then, at last, was a friend ; one, too, 
 who was able and, she doubted not, would be 
 willing to aid her ! From that instant her cour- 
 age and her spirits revived. The Mohican had 
 seen her ; must have recognized her, as he knew 
 that she was of the party ; and no doubt, as soon 
 as it was sufficiently dark, he would take the 
 steps necessary to release her. That he was 
 aware of the presence of the enemy was apparent 
 by the great caution he observed, and she had 
 every reliance on his prudence and address. The 
 principal difficulty now existed with June, for Ma- 
 bel had seen too much of her fidelity to her own 
 people, relieved as it was by sympathy for her- 
 self, to believe she would consent to a hostile In- 
 dian’s entering the block-house, or indeed to her 
 leaving it, with a view to defeat Arrowhead’s plans. 
 The half hour that succeeded the discovery of 
 the presence of the Great Serpent was the most 
 painful of Mabel Dunham’s life. She saw the 
 means of effecting all she wished, as it might be 
 within reach of her hand, and yet it eluded her 
 grasp. She knew June’s decision and coolness, 
 notwithstanding all her gentleness and womanly 
 feeling, and at last she came reluctantly to the 
 conclusion that there was no other way of attain- 
 ing her end, than by deceiving her tried compan- 
 ion and protector. It was revolting to one as sin- 
 cere and natural, as pure of heart, and as much 
 disposed to ingenuousness as Mabel Dunham, to 
 practice deception on a friend like June ; but her 
 own father’s life was at stake, her companion 
 would receive no positive injury, and she had 
 feelings and interests directly touching herself 
 that would have removed greater scruples. 
 
 As soon as it was dark, Mabel’s heart began 
 to beat with violence; and she adopted and 
 
 changed her plan of proceedings at least a dozen 
 times in the course of a single hour. June was 
 always the source of her greatest embarrassment ; 
 for she did not well see, firstly, how she was to 
 ascertain when Chingachgook was at the door, 
 where she doubted not he would soon appear ; 
 and, secondly, how she was to admit him without 
 giving the alarm to her watchful companion. 
 Time pressed, however; for the Mohican might 
 come and go away again, unless she were ready 
 to receive him. It would be too hazardous to the 
 Delaware to remain long on the island ; and it be- 
 came absolutely necessary to determine on some 
 course, even at the risk of choosing one that was 
 indiscreet. After running over various projects 
 in her mind, therefore, Mabel came to her com- 
 panion and said, with as much calmness as she 
 could assume — 
 
 “ Are you not afraid, June, now your people 
 believe Pathfinder is in the block-house, that 
 they will come and try to set it on fire ? ” 
 
 “ No t’ink such t’ink. No bum block-house. 
 Block-house good : got no scalp.” 
 
 “ June, we cannot know. They hid because 
 they believed what I told them of Pathfinder’s be- 
 ing with us.” 
 
 “Believe fear. Fear come quick, go quick. 
 Fear make run away ; wit make come back. 
 Fear make warrior fool, as well as young girl.” 
 
 Here June laughed, as her sex is apt to laugh, 
 when any thing particularly ludicrous crosses 
 their youthful fancies. 
 
 “ I feel uneasy, June ; and wish you yourself 
 would go up again to the roof and look out upon 
 the island to make certain that nothing is plotting 
 against us ; you know the signs of what your 
 people intend to do better than I.” 
 
 “ June go, Lily wish ; but very well know that 
 Indian sleep : wait for fader. Warrior eat, drink, 
 sleep, all time, when don’t fight, and go on war- 
 trail. Den never sleep, eat, drink — never feel. 
 Warrior sleep, now.” 
 
 “ God send it may be so ! but go up, dear 
 June, and look well about you. Danger may 
 come when we least expect it.” 
 
 June arose and prepared to ascend to the 
 roof ; but she paused, with her foot on the first 
 round of the ladder. Mabel’s heart beat so 
 violently that she was fearful its throbs would be 
 heard ; and she fancied that some gleamings of her 
 real intentions had crossed the mind of her friend. 
 She was right, in part ; the Indian woman having 
 actually stopped to consider whether there was any 
 indiscretion in what she was about to do. At first s 
 the suspicion that Mabel intended to escape 
 flashed across her mind ; then she rejected it, on 
 
L66 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 the ground that the pale-face had no means of get- 
 ting off the island, and that the block-house 
 was much the most secure place she could find. 
 The next thought was, that Mabel had detected 
 gome sign of the near approach of her father. 
 This idea, too, lasted but an instant ; for June 
 entertained some such opinion of her companion’s 
 ability to understand symptoms of this sort — 
 symptoms that had escaped her own sagacity — as 
 a woman of high fashion entertains of the 
 accomplishments of her maid. Nothing else in 
 the same way offering, she began slowly to mount 
 the ladder. 
 
 Just as she reached the upper floor, a lucky 
 thought suggested itself to our heroine ; and, by 
 expressing it in a hurried, but natural manner, 
 she gained a great advantage in executing her 
 projected scheme. 
 
 “ I will go down,” she said, “ and listen by 
 the door, June, while you are on the roof ; and 
 we will thus be on our guard, at the same time, 
 above and below.” 
 
 Though June thought this savored of un- 
 necessary caution, well knowing no one could 
 enter the building unless aided from within, nor 
 any serious danger menace them from the exterior, 
 without giving sufficient warning, she attributed 
 the proposition to Mabel’s ignorance and alarm ; 
 and, as it was made apparently with frankness, 
 it was received without distrust. By these means 
 our heroine was enabled to descend to the door as 
 her friend ascended to the roof ; and June felt no 
 unusual inducement to watch her. The distance 
 between the two was now too great to admit of 
 conversation ; and, for three or four minutes, one 
 was occupied in looking about her as well as the 
 darkness would allow, and the other in listening 
 at the door, with as much intentness as if all her 
 senses were absorbed in the single faculty of 
 hearing. 
 
 June discovered nothing from her elevated 
 stand — the obscurity, indeed, almost forbade the 
 hope of such a result ; but it would not be easy 
 to describe the sensation with which Mabel 
 thought she perceived a slight and guarded push 
 against the door. Fearful that all might not be 
 as she wished, and anxious to let Chingachgook 
 know that she was near, she began, though in 
 tremulous and low notes, to sing. So profound 
 was the stillness at the moment, that the sound 
 of the unsteady warbling ascended to the roof, 
 and in a minute June began to descend. A 
 slight tap at the door was heard immediately 
 after. Mabel was bewildered, for there was no 
 time to lose. Hope proved stronger than fear, 
 and with unsteady hands she commenced unbar- 
 
 ring the door. The moccasin of June was heard 
 on the floor above her, when only a single bar 
 was turned. The second was released as hei 
 form reached half-way down the lower ladder. 
 
 “ What you do ! ” exclaimed June, angrily. 
 
 “ Run away — mad — leave block-house ? Block- 
 house good.” — The hands of both were on the 
 last bar, and it would have been cleared from the 
 fastenings, but for a vigorous shove from without, 
 which jammed the wood. A short struggle 
 ensued, though both were disinclined to violence. 
 June would probably have prevailed, had not 
 another and a more vigorous push from without 
 forced the bar past the trifling impediment that 
 held it, when the door opened. The form of a 
 man was seen to enter, and both the females 
 rushed up the ladder, as if equally afraid of the 
 consequences. The stranger secured the door, 
 and, first examining the lower room with great 
 care, he cautiously ascended the ladder. June, 
 as soon as it became dark, had closed the loops 
 of the principal floor, and lighted a candle. By 
 means of this dim taper, then, the two females 
 stood in expectation, waiting to ascertain the 
 person of their visitor, whose wary ascent of the 
 ladder was distinctly audible, though sufficiently 
 deliberate. It would not be easy to say which 
 was the most astonished on finding, when the 
 stranger had got through the trap, that Path- 
 finder stood before them. 
 
 “ God be praised ! ” Mabel exclaimed, for the 
 idea that the block-house would be impregnable 
 with such a garrison, at once crossed her mind. 
 “ Oh ! Pathfinder, what has become of my father ? ” 
 
 “ The sargeant is safe as yet and victorious, 
 though it is not in the gift of man to say what 
 will be the ind of it. Is not that the wife of 
 Arrowhead, skulking in the corner there ? ” 
 
 “Speak not of her reproachfully, Pathfinder; 
 I owe her my life — my present security — tell me 
 what has happened to my father’s party, why you 
 are here, and I will relate all the horrible event3 
 that have passed upon this island.” 
 
 “ Few words will do the last, Mabel ; for one 
 used to Indian deviltries needs but little explana- 
 tions on such a subject. Every thing turned out 
 as we had hoped with the expedition, for the Sar- 
 pent was on the lookout, and he met us with all 
 the information heart could desire. We am- 
 bushed three boats, druv’ the Frenchers out of 
 them, got possession and sunk them, according 
 to orders, in the deepest part of the channel ; and 
 the savages of Upper Canada will fare badly for 
 Indian goods this winter. Both powder and ball, 
 too, will be scarcer among them than keen hunters 
 and actyve warriors may relish. We do not lose 
 
THE GUIDE’S RETURN. 
 
 167 
 
 * man, or have even a skin barked ; nor do I 
 think the inimy suffered to speak of. In short, 
 Mabel, it has been just such an expedition as Lun- 
 die likes ; much harm to the foe, and little harm 
 to ourselves.” 
 
 “Ah ! Pathfinder, I fear when Major Duncan 
 comes to hear the whole of the sad tale, he will 
 find reason to regret he ever undertook the affair 1 ” 
 
 “ I know what you mean — I know what you 
 mean ; but by telling my story straight you will 
 understand it better. As soon as the sargeant 
 found himself successful, he sent me and the Sar- 
 pent off in canoes to tell you how matters had 
 turned out, and he is following with the two 
 boats ; which, being so much heavier, cannot ar- 
 rive before morning. I parted from Chingachgook 
 this forenoon, it being agreed that he should 
 come up one set of channels, and I another, to 
 see that the path was clear. I’ve not seen the 
 chief since.” 
 
 Mabel now explained the manner in which 
 6he had discovered the Mohican, and her expec- 
 tation that he would yet come to the block-house. 
 
 “ Not he — not he ! A regular scout will never 
 get behind walls or logs so long as he can keep 
 the open air and find useful employment. I 
 should not have come myself, Mabel, but I prom- 
 ised the sargeant to comfort you, and to look a’ter 
 your safety. Ah’s me ! I reconnoitred the island 
 with a heavy heart this forenoon ; and there was 
 a bitter hour when I fancied you might be among 
 the slain.” 
 
 “ By what lucky accident were you prevented 
 from paddling up boldly to the island, and from 
 falling into the hands of the enemy ? ” 
 
 “ By such an accident, Mabel, as Providence 
 employs to tell the hound where to find the deer, 
 and the deer how to throw off the hound. No- 
 no — these artifices and deviltries with dead bodies 
 may deceive the soldiers of the 55th, and the king’s 
 officers ; but they are all lost upon men who have 
 passed their days in the forest. I came down the 
 channel in face of the pretended fisherman, and, 
 though the riptyles have set up the poor wretch 
 with art, it was not ingenious enough to take in 
 a practysed eye. The rod was held too high ; for 
 the 65th have learned to fish at Oswego, if they 
 never knew how before ; and then the man was 
 too quiet for one who got neither prey nor bite. 
 But we never come in upon a post blindly ; and 
 I have lain outside a garrison a whole night, be- 
 cause they had changed their sentries and their 
 mode of standing guard. Neither the Sarpent 
 nor myself would be likely to be taken in by 
 these contrivances, which were most probably in- 
 tended for the Scotch, who are cunning enough 
 
 in some particulars, though any thing but witches 
 when Indian sarcumventions are in the wind.” 
 
 “Do you think my father and his men may 
 yet be deceived ? ” said Mabel, quickly. 
 
 “Not if I can prevent it, MabeL Yoi* say 
 the Sarpent is on the lookout too ; so tnere is a 
 double chance of our succeeding in letting him 
 know his danger ; though it is by no means sar- 
 tain by which channel the party may come.” 
 
 “Pathfinder,” said our heroine, solemnly, for 
 the frightful scenes she had witnessed had clothed 
 death with unusual horrors — “Pathfinder, you 
 have professed love for me — a wish to make me 
 your wife ! ” 
 
 “ I did ventur’ to speak on that subject, Ma- 
 bel, and the sargeant has even lately said that you 
 are kindly disposed ; but I am not a man to parse- 
 cute the thing I love.” 
 
 “Hear me, Pathfinder — I respect you — honor 
 you — revere you — save my father from this dread- 
 ful death, and I can worship you. Here is my 
 hand as a solemn pledge for my faith, when you 
 come to claim it.” 
 
 “ Bless you — bless you, Mabel ; this ia 
 more than I desarve — more, I fear, than I shall 
 know how to profit by, as I ought. It was not 
 wanting, however, to make me sarve the sargeant. 
 We are old comrades, and owe each other a life— 
 though I fear me, Mabel, being a father’s comrade 
 is not always the best recommendation with the 
 daughter ! ” 
 
 “ You want no other recommendation than 
 your own acts — your courage — your fidelity ; all 
 that you do and say, Pathfinder, my reason ap- 
 proves, and the heart will, nay, it shall follow.” 
 
 “ This is happiness I little expected this night ; 
 but we are in God’s hands, and he will protect us 
 in his own way. These are sweet words, Mabel, 
 but they were not wanting to make me do all that 
 man can do, in the present sarcumstances ; they 
 will not lessen my endeavors neither.” 
 
 “ Now we understand each other, Pathfinder — ” 
 Mabel added, hoarsely, “ let us not lose one of the 
 precious moments, which may be of incalculable 
 value. Can we not get into your canoe, and go 
 and meet my father ? ” 
 
 “ That is not the course I advise. I don’t 
 know by which channel the sargeant will come, 
 and there are twenty ; rely on it, the Sarpent will 
 be winding his -way through them all. No, no, my 
 advice is to remain here. The logs of this block- 
 house are still green, and it will not be easy to 
 set them on fire ; and I can make good the place, 
 bating a burning, ag’in a tribe. The Iroquois 
 nation cannot dislodge me from this fortress, so 
 long as we can keep the flames off it. The sar 
 
168 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 gcant is now ’camped on some island, and will j 
 not come in until morning. If we hold the block, 
 we can give him timely warning, by firing rifles 
 for instance ; and should he determine to attack 
 the savages, as a man of his temper will be very 
 likely to do, the possession of this building will 
 be of great account in the affair. No, no, my 
 judgment says remain, if the object be to sarve 
 the sargeant ; though escape for our two selves 
 will be no very difficult matter.” 
 
 “ Stay,” murmured Mabel — “ stay, for God’s 
 sake, Pathfinder. Any thing — every thing, to save 
 my father ! ” 
 
 “ Yes, that is naturh I am glad to hear you 
 say this, Mabel, for I own a wish to see the ser- 
 geant fairly supported. As the matter now 
 stands, he has gained himself credit ; and could 
 he once drive off these miscreants, and make an 
 honorable retreat, laying the huts and blocks in 
 ashes, no doubt, no doubt, Lundie would remem- 
 ber it, and sarve him accordingly. Yes, yes, 
 Mabel, we must not only save the sergeant’s life, 
 but we must save his ripitation.” 
 
 “ No blame can rest on my father, on account 
 of the surprise of this island ! ” 
 
 “ There’s no telling — there’s no telling ; mili- 
 tary glory is a most unsartain thing. I’ve seen 
 the Delawares routed, when they desarved more 
 credit than at other times when they’ve carried 
 the day. A man is wrong to set his head on suc- 
 cess of any sort, and, worst of all, on success in war. 
 
 I know little of the settlements, or of the notions 
 that men hold in them ; but, up hereaway, even 
 the Indians rate a warrior’s character according 
 to his luck. The principal thing with a soldier 
 is, never to be whipt ; nor do I think mankind 
 stops long to consider how the day was won or 
 lost. For my part, Mabel, I make it a rule when 
 facing the inimy, to give him as good as I can 
 send, and to try to be moderate as I can, when 
 we get the better ; as for feeling moderate after 
 a defeat, little need be said on that score, as a 
 flogging is one of the most humbling things in 
 Natur’. The parsons preach about humility, in 
 the garrisons ; but if humility would make Chris- 
 tians, the king’s troops ought to be saints, for 
 they’ve done little, as yet, this war, but take les- 
 sons from the French, beginning at Fort du 
 Quesne, and ending at Ty ! ” 
 
 “ My father could not have suspected that the 
 position of the island was known to the enemy,” 
 resumed Mabel, whose thoughts were running on 
 the probable effect of the recent events on the 
 sergeant. 
 
 “ That is true ; nor do I well see how the 
 Frencher 3 found it out. The spot is well chosen, 
 
 and it is not an easy matter, even for one who 
 has travelled the road to and from it, to find it 
 again. There has been treachery, I fear ; yes, 
 yes, there must have been treachery ! ” 
 
 “ Oh ! Pathfinder, can this be ? ” 
 
 “ Nothing is easier, Mabel, for treachery comes 
 as nat’ral to some men as eating. Now, when I 
 find a man all fair words, I look close to his deeds ; 
 for when the heart is right, and raally intends to 
 do good, it is generally satisfied to let the con- 
 duct speak, instead of the tongue.” 
 
 “ Jasper Western is not one of these,” said 
 Mabel, impetuously. “ No youth can be more 
 sincere in his manner, or less apt to make the 
 tongue act for the head.” 
 
 “Jasper Western! — tongue and heart are 
 both right with that lad, depend on it, Mabel ; 
 and the notion taken up by Lundie, and the quar- 
 termaster, and the sergeant, and your uncle, too, 
 is as wrong as it would be to think that the sun 
 shone by night and the stars shone by day. 
 No — no — I’ll answer for Eau-douce’s honesty 
 with my own scalp, or, at need, with my own rifle.” 
 
 “ Bless you — bless you, Pathfinder ! ” ex- 
 claimed Mabel, extending her own hand, and 
 pressing the iron fingers of her companion, under 
 state of feeling that far surpassed her own conscious 
 ness of its strength. “ You are all that is gener- 
 ous — all that is noble ; God will reward you for it.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Mabel, I fear me, if this be true, I 
 should not covet such a wife as yourself, but 
 would leave you to be sued for by some gentle- 
 men of the garrison, as your desarts require!” 
 
 “ We will not talk of this any more to-night,” 
 Mabel answered, in a voice so smothered as to 
 seem nearly choked. “We must think less of 
 ourselves, just now, Pathfinder, and more of our 
 friends. But I rejoice from my soul that you be- 
 lieve Jasper innocent. Now let us talk of other 
 things — ought we not to release June ? ” 
 
 “ I’ve been thinking about the woman, for it 
 will not be safe to shut her eyes and leave her 
 ears open, on this side of the block-house door. 
 If we put her in the upper room, and take away 
 the ladder, she’ll be a prisoner at least.” 
 
 “ I cannot treat one thus who has saved my 
 life. It would be better to let her depart; I 
 think she is too much my friend to do any thing 
 to harm me.” 
 
 “ You do not know the race, Mabel ; you do 
 not know the race. It’s true she’s not a full 
 blooded Mingo, but she consorts with the vaga- 
 bonds, and must have lamed some of their tricks. 
 —What is that?” 
 
 “ It sounds like oars — some boat i3 passing 
 through the channel ! ” 
 
THE INDIANS IN PURSUIT. 
 
 169 
 
 Pathfinder closed the trap that led to the 
 .ower room, to prevent June from escaping, ex- 
 tinguished the candle, and went hastily to a loop, 
 Mabel looking over his shoulder in breathless cu- 
 riosity. These several movements consumed a 
 minute or two ; and, by the time the eye of the 
 scout had got a dim view of things without, two 
 boats had swept past, and shot up to the shore, 
 at a spot some fifty yards beyond the block, where 
 there was a regular landing. The obscurity pre- 
 vented more from being seen ; and Pathfinder 
 whispered to Mabel, that the new-comers were as 
 likely to be foes as friends, for he did not think 
 her father could possibly have arrived so soon. 
 A number of men were now seen to quit the 
 boats, and then followed three hearty English 
 cheers, leaving no further doubts of the character 
 of the party. Pathfinder sprang to the trap, 
 raised it, glided down the ladder, and began to 
 unbar the door with an earnestness that proved 
 how critical he deemed the moment. Mabel had 
 followed, but she rather impeded than aided his 
 exertions, and but a single bar was turned when 
 a heavy discharge of rifles was heard. They 
 were still standing in breathless suspense, as the 
 war-whoop rang in all the surrounding thickets. 
 The door now opened, and both Pathfinder and 
 Mabel rushed into the open air. All human 
 sounds had ceased. After listening half a min- 
 ute, however, Pathfinder thought he heard a few 
 stifled groans near the boats ; but the wind blew 
 so fresh, and the rustling of the leaves mingled so 
 much with the murmurs of the passing air, that 
 he was far from certain. But Mabel was borne 
 away by her feelings, and she rushed by him, 
 taking the way toward the boats. 
 
 “ This will not do, Mabel,” said the scout in 
 an earnest but low voice, seizing her by an arm 
 — “ this will never do. Sartain death would fol- 
 low, and that without sarving any one. We must 
 return to the block.” 
 
 “ Father ! — my poor, dear, murdered father ! ” 
 said tho girl, wildly, though habitual caution, 
 even at that trying moment, induced her to speak 
 low. “ Pathfinder, if you love me, let me go to 
 my dear father ! ” 
 
 “ This will not do, Mabel. — It is singular that 
 no one speaks ; no one returns the fire from the 
 boats— and I have left Killdeer in the block! 
 But of what use would a rifle be when no one is 
 to be seen.” 
 
 At that moment the quick eye of Pathfinder, 
 Jvhich, wnile he held Mabel firmly in his grasp, 
 had never ceased to roam over the dim scene, 
 caught an indistinct view of five or six dark, 
 crouching forms, endeavoring to steal past him, 
 
 doubtless with the intention of intercepting their 
 retreat to the block-house. Catching up Mabel, 
 and putting her under an arm as if she were an 
 infant, the sinewy frame of the woodsman was 
 exerted to the utmost, and he succeeded in en- 
 tering the building. The tramp of his pursuers 
 seemed immediately at his heels. Dropping his 
 burden, he turned, closed the door, and had 
 fastened one bar, as a rush against the solid 
 mass threatened to force it from the hinges. 
 To secure the other bar was the work of an in- 
 stant. 
 
 Mabel now ascended to the first floor, while 
 Pathfinder remained as a sentinel below. Out 
 heroine was in that state in -which the body ex- 
 erts itself apparently without the control of the 
 mind. She relighted the candle mechanically, as 
 her companion had desired, and returned with it 
 below, where he was waiting her reappearance. 
 No sooner was Pathfinder in possession of the 
 light than he examined the place carefully, to 
 make certain no one was concealed in the for- 
 tress, ascending to each floor in succession, after 
 assuring himself that he left no enemy in his 
 rear. The result was the conviction that the 
 block-house now contained no one but Mabel and 
 himself, June having escaped. When perfectly 
 convinced on this material point, Pathfinder re* 
 joined our heroine in the principal apartment, 
 setting down the light, and examining the prim- 
 ing of Killdeer before he seated himself. 
 
 “ Our worst fears are realized,” said Mabel, to 
 whom the hurry and excitement of the last five 
 minutes appeared to contain the emotions of a 
 life. “ My beloved father, and all his party, are 
 slain or captured ! ” 
 
 “ W e don’t know that — morning will tell us 
 all. I do not think the affair as settled as that, ot 
 we should hear the vagabond Mingoes yelling out 
 their triumph around the block-house. Of one 
 thing we may be sartin ; if the inimy has really 
 got the better, he will not be long in calling upon 
 us to surrender. The squaw will let him into the 
 secret of our situation, and, as they well know 
 the place cannot be fired by daylight so long as 
 Killdeer continues to desarve his reputation, you 
 may depend on it that they will not be backward 
 in making their attempt while darkness helps 
 them.” 
 
 “ Surely, I hear a groan ! ” 
 
 “ ’Tis fancy, Mabel ; when the mind gets to be 
 skeary, especially a woman’s mind, she often con- 
 saits things that have no reality. I’ve known 
 them that imagined there was truth in dreams — ” 
 
 “Nay, I am not deceived — there is surely one 
 below, and in pain ! ” 
 
m 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 Pathfinder was compelled to own that the 
 luick senses of Mabel had not deceived her. He 
 cautioned her, however, to repress her feelings ; 
 and reminded her that the savages were in the 
 practice of resorting to every artifice to attain 
 their ends, and that nothing was more likely than 
 that the groans were feigned with a view to lure 
 them from the block-house, or at least to induce 
 
 them to open the door. 
 
 n o — no” — said Mabel, hurriedly — 
 
 “ there is no artifice in those sounds, and they 
 come from anguish of body, if not of spirit. They 
 are fearfully natural.” 
 
 “ Well, we shall soon know whether a friend is 
 there or not. Hide the light again, Mabel, and I 
 will speak the person from a loop.” 
 
 Not a little precaution was necessary, accord- 
 ing to Pathfinder’s judgment and experience, in 
 performing even this simple act, for he had known 
 the careless slain by their want of proper atten- 
 tion to, what might have seemed to the ignorant, 
 supererogatory means of safety. He did not 
 place his mouth to the loop itself, but so near it 
 that he could be heard without raising his voice, 
 and the same precaution was observed as regards 
 his ear. 
 
 “Who is below?” Pathfinder demanded, 
 when his arrangements were made to his mind. 
 
 “ Is any one in suffering ? If a friend, speak 
 boldly, and depend on our aid.” 
 
 “ Pathfinder ! ” answered a voice that both 
 Mabel and the person addressed at once knew to 
 be the sergeant’s— “ Pathfinder, in the name of 
 God, tell me what has become of my daughter ? ” 
 
 “ Father, I am here ! — unhurt — safe— and oh l 
 that I could think the same of you ! ” 
 
 The ejaculation of thanksgiving that followed 
 was distinctly audible to the two, but it was 
 clearly mingled with a groan of pain. 
 
 “ My worst forebodings are realized ! ” said 
 Mabel, with a sort of desperate calmness. “ Path- 
 finder, my father must be brought within the 
 block, though we hazard every thing to do it.” 
 
 “This is natur’, and it is the law of God. 
 But, Mabel, be calm, and endivor to be cool. All 
 that can be effected for the sargeant by human 
 invention shah be done. I only ask you to be 
 cool.” 
 
 « i am— I am— Pathfinder. Never in my life 
 was I more calm, more collected, than at this mo- 
 ment. But remember how perilous may be every 
 instant ; for Heaven’s sake, what we do, let us 
 do without delay.” 
 
 Pathfinder was struck with the firmness of 
 Mabel’s tones, and perhaps he was a little deceived 
 by the forced tranquillity and self-possession she 
 
 had assumed. At all events he did not deem any 
 further explanations necessary, but descended 
 forthwith, and began to unbar the door. This 
 delicate process was conducted with the usual 
 caution, but, as he warily permitted the mass of 
 timber to swing back on the hinges, he felt a 
 pressure against it that had nearly induced him 
 to close it again. But, catching a glimpse of the 
 cause through the crack, the door was permitted 
 to swing back, when the body of Sergeant Dun- 
 ham, which was propped against it, fell partly 
 within the block. To draw in the legs and se- 
 cure the fastenings, occupied the Pathfinder but 
 a moment. Then there existed no obstacle to 
 their giving their undivided care to the wounded 
 man. 
 
 Mabel, in this trying scene, conducted her- 
 self with the sort of unnatural energy that her 
 sex, when aroused, is apt to manifest. She got 
 the light, administered water to the parched lips 
 of her father, and assisted Pathfinder in forming a 
 bed of straw for his body, and a pillow of clothes 
 for his head. All this was done earnestly, and 
 almost without speaking ; nor did Mabel shed a 
 tear until she heard the blessings of her fathei 
 murmured on her head, for this tenderness and 
 care. All this time, Mabel had merely conjectured 
 the condition of her parent. Pathfinder, however, 
 showed greater attention to the physical danger 
 of the sergeant. He ascertained that a rifle ball 
 had passed through the body of the wounded 
 man ; and he was sufficiently familiar with injuries 
 of this nature to be certain that the chances of 
 his surviving the hurt were very triffiing, if anv 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 “Then — drinK my tears, while yet they fah 
 •Would that my bosom’s blood were balm ; 
 
 And— well thou knowest— I’d shed it all, 
 
 To give thy brow one minute' s calm." 
 
 Mooek. 
 
 The eyes of Sergeant Dunham had not cease* 
 to follow the form of his beautiful daughter frum 
 the moment that the light appeared. He next 
 examined the door of the block, to ascertain its 
 security; for he was left on the ground below, 
 there being no available means of raising him to 
 the upper floor. Then he sought the face of Ma- 
 bel ; for, as life wanes fast, the affections resume 
 their force, and we begin to value that most which 
 we feel we are about to lose forever. 
 
 “ God be praised, my child, you at least have 
 escaped their murderous rifles ! ” he said ; for he 
 
SERGEANT DUNHAM WOUNDED. 
 
 spoke with strength, and seemingly with no ad- 
 ditional pain. “ Give me the history of this sad 
 business, Pathfinder.” 
 
 “ Ah’s me, sargeant ! it has been sad, as you 
 sav. That there has been treachery, and the 
 position of the island has been betrayed, is now 
 ns sartain, in my judgment, as that we still hold 
 the block. But — ” 
 
 “ Major Duncan was right,” interrupted Dun- 
 ham, laying a hand on the other’s arm. 
 
 “ Not in the sense you mean, sargeant — no, 
 not in that p’int of view ; never. At least, not in 
 my opinion. I know that natur’ is weak — human 
 natur’, I mean — and that we should none of us 
 vaunt of our gifts, whether red or white ; but I 
 do not think that a truer-hearted lad lives on the 
 lines than Jasper Western.” 
 
 “ Bless you — bless you for that, Pathfinder ! ” 
 burst forth from Mabel’s very soul, while a flood 
 of tears gave vent to emotions that were so varied, 
 while they were so violent: “Oh, bless you, 
 Pathfinder, bless you ! The brave should never 
 desert the brave — the honest should sustain the 
 honest.” 
 
 The father’s eyes were fastened anxiously on 
 the face of his daughter, until the latter hid her 
 countenance in her apron to conceal her tears ; 
 and then they turned with inquiry to the hard 
 features of the guide. The latter merely wore 
 their usual expression of frankness, sincerity, 
 and uprightness ; and the sergeant motioned to 
 him to proceed. 
 
 “ You know the spot where the Sarpent and I 
 left you, sargeant,” Pathfinder resumed ; “ and I 
 need say nothing of all that happened afore. It is 
 now too late to lament what is gone and passed ; 
 but I do think if I had stayed with the boats, 
 this would not have come to pass ! Other men 
 may be as good guides ; I make no doubt they 
 are : but then Natur’ bestows its gifts, and some 
 must be better than other some. I dare say poor 
 Gilbert, who took my place, has suffered for his 
 mistake.” 
 
 “ He fell at my elbow,” the sergeant answered 
 in a low, melancholy tone. “We have, indeed, 
 all suffered for our mistakes ! ” 
 
 “ No, no, sargeant, I meant no condemnation 
 on you ; for men were never better commanded 
 than your’n, in this very expedition. I never be- 
 held a prettier flanking ; and the way in which 
 you carried your own boat up ag’in their howitzer 
 might have teached Lundie himself a lesson.” 
 
 The eyes of the sergeant brightened ; his face 
 sven wore an expression of military triumph, 
 though it was of a degree that suited the humble 
 sphere in which he had been an actor. 
 
 171 
 
 “ ’Twas not badly done, my friend,” he said 
 “we carried their log breast-work by storm ! ” 
 
 “ ’Twas nobly done, sargeant ; though I feai 
 when all the truth comes to be known, it will be 
 found that these vagabonds have got their howit- 
 zer back ag’in. Well, well, put a stout heart 
 upon it, and try to forget all that is disagreeable, 
 and to remember only the pleasant part of the 
 matter. That is your truest philosophy ; ay, and 
 truest religion, too. If the inimy has got the 
 howitzer ag’in, they’ve only got what belonged to 
 them afore, and what we couldn’t help. They 
 hav’n’t got the block-house yet, nor are they 
 likely to get it, unless they fire it in the dark. 
 Well, sargeant, the Sarpent and I separated about 
 ten miles down the river ; for we thought it wis- 
 est not to come upon even a friendly camp with- 
 out the usual caution. What has become of 
 Chingachgook, I cannot say ; though Mabel tells 
 me he is not far off ; and I make no question the 
 noble-hearted Delaware is doing his duty, al- 
 though he is not now visible to our eyes. Mark 
 my word, sargeant ; before this matter is over we 
 shall hear of him at some critical time, and that 
 in a discreet and creditable manner. Ah ! the 
 Sarpent is, indeed, a wise and virtuous chief; and 
 any white man might covet his gifts, though his 
 rifle is not quite as sure as Killdeer, it must be 
 owned. Well, as I came near the island, I missed 
 the smoke, and that put me on my guard ; for I 
 knew that the men of the 55th were not cunning 
 enough to conceal that sign, notwithstanding all 
 that has been told them of its danger. This made 
 me more careful, until I came in sight of this 
 mock-fisherman, as I’ve just told Mabel ; and then 
 the whole of their infernal arts was as plain be- 
 fore me, as if I saw it on a map. I need not tell 
 you, sargeant, that my first thoughts were of Ma- 
 bel ; and that, finding she was in the block, I 
 came here, in order to live or die in her company.” 
 
 The father turned a gratified look upon his 
 child, and Mabel felt a sinking of the heart that, 
 at such a moment, she could not have thought 
 possible, when she wished to believe all her con- 
 cern centred in the situation of her parent. As 
 the latter held out his hand she took it in hej 
 own and kissed it. Then, kneeling at his side, 
 she wept as if her heart would break. 
 
 “Mabel,” he said, steadily, “the will of God 
 must be done. It is useless to attempt deceiving 
 either you or myself ; my time has come, and it 
 is a consolation to me to die like a soldier. Lun- 
 die will do me justice, for our good friend Path- 
 finder will tell him what has been done, and how 
 all came to pass. You do not forget our last 
 j conversation ? ” 
 
172 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 “Nay, father, my time has probably come, 
 too,” exclaimed Mabel, who felt just then as if it 
 would be a relief to die. u I cannot hope to es- j 
 cape ; and Pathfinder would do well to leave us, 
 and return to the garrison, with the sad news, 
 while he can.” 
 
 “ Mabel Dunham,” said Pathfinder, reproach- 
 fully, though he took her hand with kindness. 
 
 “ I have not desarved this ; I know I am wild, 
 and uncouth, and ungainly — ” 
 
 “ Pathfinder ! ” 
 
 “ Well— well, we’ll forget it ; you did not mean 
 it ; you could not think it. It is useless, now, to 
 talk of escaping, for the sergeant cannot be moved ; 
 and the block-house must be defended, cost what 
 it will. Maybe Lundie will get the tidings of our 
 disaster, and send a party to raise the siege.” 
 
 “ Pathfinder— Mabel ! ” said the sergeant, who 
 had been writhing with pain, until the cold sweat 
 stood on his forehead — “ come both to my side. 
 You understand each other, I hope ? ” 
 
 “ Father, say nothing of that — it is all as you 
 wish.” 
 
 “ Thank God ! Give me your hand, Mabel — 
 here, Pathfinder, take it. I can do no more than 
 give you the girl in this way. I know you will 
 make her a kind husband. Do not wait on ac- 
 count of my death ; there will be a chaplain in 
 the fort before the season closes ; let him marry 
 you at once. My brother, if living, will wish to 
 go back to his vessel, and then the child will 
 have no protector. Mabel, your husband will 
 have been my friend, and that will be some con- 
 solation to you, I hope.” 
 
 “ Trust this matter to me, sargeant,” put in 
 Pathfinder ; “ leave it all in my hands, as your 
 dying request ; and, depend on it, all will go as it 
 should.” 
 
 “ I do— I do put all confidence in you, my 
 trusty friend, and empower you to act, as I could 
 act myself, in every particular. Mabel, child — 
 hand me the water — you will never repent this 
 night. Bless you, my daughter — God bless and 
 have you in his holy keeping ! ” 
 
 This tenderness was inexpressibly touching to 
 one of Mabel’s feelings ; and she felt at that mo- 
 ment as if her future union with Pathfinder had 
 received a solemnization that no ceremony of the 
 church could render more holy. Still, a weight, 
 as that of a mountain, lay upon her heart, and 
 she thought it would be happiness to die. Then 
 followed a short pause, when the sergeant, in 
 broken sentences, briefly related what had passed 
 since he parted with Pathfinder and the Delaware. 
 The wind had come more favorable, and, instead, 
 of encamping on an island, agreeably to the origi. 
 
 nal intention, he had determined to continue, and ] 
 reach the station that night. Their approach 
 would have been unseen, and a nortion of tho j 
 calamity avoided, he thought, had they not ground- ! 
 ed on the point of a neighboring island, where, j 
 no doubt, the noise made by the men, in getting J 
 off the boat, gave notice of their approach, and 
 enabled the enemy to be in readiness to receive j 
 them. They had landed without the slightest 
 suspicion of danger, though surprised at not find- 
 ing a sentinel, and had actually left their arms in 
 the boat, with the intention of first securing their 
 knapsacks and provisions. The fire had been so 
 close that, notwithstanding the obscurity, it was 
 very deadly. Every man had fallen; two or 
 three, however, subsequently arose, and disap- j 
 peared. Four or five of the soldiers had been i 
 killed, or so nearly so as to survive but a few 
 minutes ; though, for some unknown reason, the 
 enemy did not make the usual rush for the scalps. J 
 Sergeant Dunham fell with others ; and he had 
 heard the voice of Mabel, as she rushed from the 
 block-house. This frantic appeal aroused all his 
 parental feelings, and had enabled him to crawl 
 as far as the door of the building, where he had i 
 raised himself against the logs, in the manner al- 
 ready mentioned. 
 
 After this simple explanation was made, the 
 sergeant was so weak as to need repose ; and his 
 companions, while they ministered to his wants, j 
 suffered some time to pass in silence. Pathfinder 
 took the occasion to reconnoitre from the loops 
 and the roof, and he examined the condition of 
 the rifles, of which there were a dozen kept in 
 the building, the soldiers having used their regi- 
 mental muskets in the expedition. But Mabel 
 never left her father’s side for an instant, and 
 when, by his breathing, she fancied he slept, she 
 bent her knees and prayed. 
 
 The half hour that succeeded was awfully sol- 
 emn and still. The moccasin of Pathfinder was 
 barely heard over head, and occasionally the 
 sound of the breech of a rifle fell upon th z floor, 
 for he was busied in examining the pieces with a 
 view to ascertain the state of their charges, ana 
 their primings. Beyond this, nothing was si 
 loud as the breathing of the wounded man. Ma 
 bel’s heart yearned to be in communication with, 
 the father she was so soon to lose, and yet sho 
 would not disturb his apparent repose. But Dun- 
 ham slept not ; he was in that state when tho 
 world suddenly loses its attractions, its illusions, 
 and its power ; and the unknown future fills the 
 mind with its conjectures, its revelations, and its 
 immensity. He had been a moral man for one 
 of his mode of life, but he had thought little of 
 
ESCAPE OF THE MARINER. 
 
 173 
 
 this all-important moment. Had the din of battle 
 been ringing in his ears, his martial ardor might 
 have endured to the end ; but there, in the si- 
 lence of that nearly untenanted block-house, with 
 no sound to enliven him, no appeal to keep alive 
 factitious sentiment, no hope of victory to impel, 
 things began to appear in their true colors, and 
 this state of being to be estimated at its just value. 
 He would have given treasures for religious con- 
 solation, yet he knew not where to turn to seek 
 it. He thought of Pathfinder, but he distrusted 
 his knowledge. He thought of Mabel ; for the 
 parent to appeal to the child for such succor, ap- 
 peared like reversing the order of nature. Then 
 it was that he felt the full responsibility of the 
 parental character, and had some clear glimpses 
 of the manner in which he himself had discharged 
 the trust toward an orphan child. While thoughts 
 like these were rising in his mind, Mabel, who 
 watched the slightest change in his breathing, 
 heard a guarded knock at the door. Supposing 
 it might be Chingachgook, she rose, undid two 
 of the bars, and held the third in her hand, as 
 she asked who was there. The answer was in 
 her uncle’s voice, and he implored her to give him 
 immediate admission. Without an instant of 
 hesitation, she turned the bar, and Cap entered. 
 He had barely passed the opening, when Mabel 
 closed the door, again, and secured it as before, 
 for practice had rendered her expert in this por- 
 tion of her duties. 
 
 The sturdy seaman, when he had made sure 
 of the state of his brother-in-law, and that Mabel 
 as well as himself was safe, was softened nearly 
 to tears. His own appearance he explained by 
 saying that he had been carelessly guarded, un- 
 der the impression that he and the quartermas- 
 ter were sleeping under the fumes of liquor with 
 which they had been plied, with a view to keep 
 them quiet in the expected engagement. Muir 
 had been left asleep, or seeming to sleep ; but 
 Cap had run into the bushes, on the alarm of the 
 attack, and, having found Pathfinder’s canoe, had 
 only succeeded, at that moment, in getting to the 
 block-house, whither he had come with the kind 
 intent of escaping with his niece by water. It 
 is scarcely necessary to say, that he changed 
 his plan when he ascertained the state of the ser- 
 geant, and the apparent security of his present 
 quarters. 
 
 “If the worst comes to the worst, Master 
 Pathfinder,” he said, “we must strike, and that 
 will entitle us to quarter. We owe it to our man- 
 hood to hold out a reasonable time, and to our- 
 selves to haul down the ensign in season to make 
 saving conditions. I wished Master Muir to do 
 
 the san^ thing, when we were captured by these 
 chaps you call vagabonds — and rightly are they 
 named, for viler vagabonds do not walk the 
 earth — ” 
 
 “ You’ve found out their characters ! ” inter- 
 rupted Pathfinder, who was always a3 ready to 
 chime in with abuse of the Mingoes, as with the 
 praises of his friends. “ Now, had you fallen in- 
 to the hands of the Delawares, you would have 
 larncd the difference.” 
 
 “ Well, to me they seem much of a muchness ; 
 blackguards fore and aft, always excepting our 
 friend the Serpent, who is a gentleman for an In- 
 jin. But, when these savages made the assault 
 on us, killing Corporal McNab and his men, as if 
 they had been so many rabbits, Lieutenant Muir 
 and myself took refuge in one of the holes of 
 this here island, of which there are so many 
 among the rocks — regular geological underground 
 burrows made by the water, as the Lieutenant 
 says — and there we remained, stowed away like 
 two leaguers in a ship’s hold, until we gave out 
 for want of grub. A man may say that grub is 
 the foundation of human nature. I desired the 
 quartermaster to make terms, for we could have 
 defended ourselves for an hour or two in the place, 
 bad as it was ; but he declined, on the ground 
 that the knaves wouldn’t keep faith if any of 
 them were hurt, and so there was no use in ask- 
 ing them to. I consented to strike, on two prin- 
 ciples ; one, that we might be said to have struck 
 already, for running below is generally thought 
 to be giving up the ship ; and the other, that we 
 had an enemy in our stomachs that was more 
 formidable in his attacks than the enemy on deck. 
 
 Hunger is a d ble circumstance, as any man 
 
 who has lived on it eight-and-forty hours will ac- 
 knowledge.” 
 
 “ Uncle ! ” said' Mabel, in a mournful voice, 
 and with an expostulatory manner, “ my poor fa- 
 ther is sadly, sadly hurt ! ” 
 
 “ True, Magnet, true— I will sit by him, and 
 do my best at consolation. Are the bars well 
 fastened, girl? on such an occasion, the mind 
 should be tranquil and undisturbed.” 
 
 “We are safe, I believe, from all but this 
 heavy blow of Providence.” 
 
 “Well, then, Magnet, do you go up to the 
 deck above, and try to compose yourself, while 
 Pathfinder runs aloft and takes a lookout from 
 the cross-trees. Your father may wish to say 
 something to me, in private, and it may be well 
 to leave us alone. These are solemn scenes, and 
 inexperienced people, like myself, do not always 
 wish what they say to be overheard.” 
 
 Although the idea of her uncle’s affording re 
 
m 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 ligious consolation by the side of a dAth-bed, 
 certainly never obtruded itself on the imagination 
 of Mabel, she thought there might be a propriety 
 in the request with which she was unacquainted ; 
 and she complied accordingly. Pathfinder had 
 already ascended to the roof to make his survey, 
 and the brothers-in-law were left alone. Cap 
 took a seat by the side of the sergeant, and be- 
 thought him seriously of the grave duty he had 
 before him. A silence of several minutes suc- 
 ceeded, during which brief space the mariner was 
 digesting the substance of his intended discourse. 
 
 “ I must say, Sergeant Dunham,” Cap at length 
 commenced, in his peculiar manner, “ that there 
 ha 9 been mismanagement somewhere in this un- 
 happy expedition, and, the present being an oc- 
 casion when truth ought to be spoken, and noth- 
 ing but the truth, I feel it my duty to say as much 
 in plain language. In short, sergeant, on this 
 point there cannot well be two opinions ; for, sea- 
 man as I am, and no soldier, I can see several 
 errors myself, that it needs no great education 
 to detect.” 
 
 “ What would you have, brother Cap ? ” re- 
 turned the other, in a feeble voice— “what is 
 done is done ; it is now too late to remedy it.” 
 
 « Very true, brother Dunham, but not to re- 
 pent of it ; the good book tells us it is never too 
 late to repent ; and I’ve always heard that this is 
 the precious moment. If you’ve any thing on 
 vour mind, sergeant, hoist it out freely, for you 
 know you trust it to a friend. You were my own 
 sister’s husband, and poor little Magnet is my 
 own sister’s daughter; and, living or dead, I 
 shall always look upon you as a brother. It’s a 
 thousand pities that you didn’t lie off and on 
 with the boats, and send a canoe ahead to recon- 
 noitre ; in which case your command would have 
 been saved, and this disaster would not have be- 
 fallen u<5 all. Well, sergeant, we are dl mortal ; 
 that is some consolation, I make no doubt ; and if 
 you go before a little, why, we must follow. Yes, 
 that must give him consolation.” 
 
 “ I know all this, brother Cap ; and hope I’m 
 prepared to meet a soldier’s fate — there is poor 
 Mabel—” 
 
 “ Ay, ay — that’s a heavy drag, I know ; but 
 you wouldn’t take her with you, if you could, 
 sergeant ; and so the better way is to make as 
 light of the separation as you can. Mabel is a 
 good girl, and so was her mother before her ; she 
 was my sister, and it shall be my care to see that 
 her daughter gets a good husband, if our lives 
 and scalps are spared ; for I suppose no one 
 would care about entering into a family that has 
 no scalps.” 
 
 “ Brother, my child is betrothed — she will be. 
 come the wife of Pathfinder.” 
 
 “ Well, brother Dunham, every man has his 
 opinions, and his manner of viewing things ; and 
 to my notion this match will be any thing but 
 agreeable to Mabel ; I have no objections to the 
 age of the man ; I am not one of them that thinks 
 it necessary to be a boy to make a girl happy, 
 but on the whole I prefer a man of about fifty for 
 a husband ; still there ought not to be any cir- 
 cumstance between the parties to make them un- 
 happy. Circumstances play the devil with matri- 
 mony ; and I set it down as one, that Pathfindei 
 don’t know as much as my niece. You’ve seen 
 but little of the girl, sergeant, and have not got 
 the run of her knowledge ; but let her pay it out 
 freely, as she will do when she gets to be thor- 
 oughly acquainted ; and you’ll fall in with but few 
 schoolmasters that can keep their luffs in her 
 company.” 
 
 “She’s a good child— a dear, good child,” 
 muttered the sergeant, his eyes filling with tears 
 — “ it is my misfortune that I have seen so little 
 of her.” 
 
 “ She is, indeed, a good girl, and knows alto- 
 gether too much for poor Pathfinder, who is a 
 reasonable man, and an experienced man in his 
 own way ; but who has no more idea of the main 
 chance than you have of spherical trigonometry 
 sergeant.” 
 
 “Ah ! brother Cap, had Pathfinder been with 
 us in the boats this sad affair might not have 
 happened ! ” 
 
 “ That is quite likely ; his worst enemy will 
 allow that the man is a good guide ; but, ser- 
 geant, if the truth must be spoken, you have 
 managed this expedition in a loose way, alto- 
 gether : you should have hove-to off your haven 
 and sent in a boat to reconnoitre, as I told you 
 before. This is a matter to be repented of ; and 
 I tell it to you because truth, in such a case, ought 
 to be spoken.” 
 
 “ My errors are dearly paid for, brother ; and 
 poor Mabel, I fear, will be the sufferer. I think 
 however, that the calamity would not have hap- 
 pened had there not been treason. I fear me 
 brother, that Jasper Eau-douce has played us 
 false!” ° 
 
 “ That is just my notion ; this fresh-water life 
 must, sooner or later, undermine any man’s 
 morals. Lieutenant Muir and myself talked this 
 matter over, while we lay in a bit of a hole out 
 here on this island ; and we both came to the con- 
 clusion that nothing short of Jasper’s treachery 
 could have brought us all into this infernal scrape 
 Well, sergeant, you had better compose your mind 
 
A SUMMONS TO SURRENDER. 
 
 175 
 
 And think of other matters ; when a vessel is 
 about to enter a strange port it is more prudent 
 to think of the anchorage inside than to be under- 
 running all the events that have turned up during 
 the v’yage — there’s the log-book, expressly to 
 aote all these matters in ; and what stands there 
 must form the column of figures that’s to be 
 posted up, for or against us. How now, Path- 
 finder ! is there any thing in the wind, that you 
 come down the ladder like an Indian in the wake 
 of a scalp ? ” 
 
 The guide raised a finger for silence, then 
 beckoned to Cap to ascend the first ladder, and 
 to allow Mabel to take his place at the side of 
 the sergeant. 
 
 “We must be prudent, and we must be bold, 
 too,” he said, in a low voice. “ The riptyles are 
 in earnest in their intention to fire the block, for 
 they know there is now nothing to be gained by let- 
 ting it stand. I hear the voice of that vagabond 
 Arrowhead, among them, and he is urging them 
 to set about their diviltry this very night. We 
 must be stirring, Salt-water, and doing too. Luck- 
 ily, there are four or five barrels of water in the 
 block, and these are something toward a siege. 
 My reckoning is wrong, too, or we shall yet reap 
 some advantage from that honest fellow, the Sar- 
 pent, being at liberty.” 
 
 Cap did not wait for a second invitation, but 
 stealing away, he was soon in the upper room 
 with Pathfinder, while Mabel took his post by the 
 side of her father’s humble bed. Pathfinder had 
 opened a loop, having so far concealed the light 
 that it would not expose him to a treacherous 
 shot, and, expecting a summons, he stood with 
 his face near the hole, ready to answer. The 
 stillness that succeeded, was at length broken by 
 the voice of Muir. 
 
 “ Master Pathfinder,” called out the Scotch- 
 man, “ a friend summons you to a parley. Come 
 freely to one of the loops, for you’ve nothing to 
 fear so long as you are in converse with an officer 
 of the 55th.’' 
 
 “ What is your will, quartermaster — what is 
 your will ? I know the 55th, and believe it to be 
 a brave regiment, though I rather incline to the 
 60th, as my favorite, and to the Delawares more 
 than to either. But what would you have, quar- 
 termaster ? It must be a pressing errand that 
 brings you under the loops of a block-house, at 
 this hour of the night, with the sartainty of Kill- 
 deer’s being inside of it.” 
 
 “ Oh ! you’ll no harm a friend, Pathfinder, I’m 
 certain, and that’s my security. You’re a man 
 of judgment, and have gained too great a name on 
 this frontier for bravery, to feel the necessity of 
 
 foolhardiness to obtain a character. You’ll very 
 well understand, my good friend, there is as much 
 credit to be gained by submitting gracefully, when 
 resistance becomes impossible, as by obstinately 
 holding out contrary to the rules of war. The 
 enemy is too strong for us, my brave comrade, 
 and I come to counsel you to give up the block, 
 on condition of being treated as a prisoner of 
 war.” 
 
 “ I thank you for this advice, quartermastt^, 
 which is the more acceptable, as it costs nothing. 
 But I do not think it belongs to my gifts to yield 
 a place like this, while food and w'ater last.” 
 
 “Well, I’d be the last, Pathfinder, to recom- 
 mend any thing against so brave a resolution, 
 did I see the means of maintaining it. But ye’ll 
 remember that Master Cap has fallen — ” 
 
 “ Not he — not he,” roared the individual in 
 question through another loop — “ so far from 
 that, lieutenant, he has risen to the height of 
 this here fortification, and has no mind to put his 
 head of hair into the hands of such barbers again, 
 so long as he can help it. I look upon this block- 
 house as a circumstance, and have no mind to 
 throw it away.” 
 
 “ If that is a living voice,” returned Muir, “ I 
 am glad to hear it, for we all thought the man 
 had fallen in the late fearful confusion ! But, 
 Master Pathfinder, although ye’re enjoying the 
 society of your friend Cap, and a great pleasure 
 do I know it to be, by the experience of two days 
 and a night passed in a hole in the earth, we’ve 
 lost that of Sergeant Dunham, who has fallen, 
 with all the brave men he led in the late expedi- 
 tion. Lundie would have it so, though it would 
 have been more discreet and becoming to send a 
 commissioned officer in command. Dunham was 
 a brave man, notwithstanding, and shall have 
 justice done his memory. In short, we have all 
 acted for the best, and that is as much as could 
 be said in favor of Prince Eugene, the Duke 
 of Marlborough, or the great Earl of Stair him- 
 self.” 
 
 “You’re wrong ag’in, quartermaster, you’n 
 wrong ag’in,” answered Pathfinder, resorting to a 
 ruse to magnify his force. “ The sargeant is safe 
 in the block too, where one might say the whole 
 family is collected.” 
 
 “ Well, I rejoice to hear it, for we had certain 
 ly counted the sergeant among the slain. If 
 pretty Mabel is in the block still, let her not delay 
 an instant, for Heaven’s sake, in quitting it, foi 
 the enemy is about to put it to the trial by fire. 
 Ye know the potency of that dread element, and 
 will be acting more like the discreet and experi- 
 enced warrior ye’re universally allowed to be, in 
 
176 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 yielding a place you canna’ defend, than in draw- I 
 ing down ruin on yourself and companions. 
 
 “ I know the potency of fire, as you call it, 
 quartermaster, and am not to be told, at this late 
 hour, that it can be used for something else be- 
 sides cooking a dinner. But I make no doubt 
 you’ve heard of the potency of Killdeer, and the 
 man who attempts to lay a pile of brush agin’ 
 these logs will get a taste of his powder. As for 
 arrows, it is not in their gifts to set this building 
 on fire, for we’ve no shingles on our roof, but good 
 solid logs and green bark, and plenty of water be- 
 sides. The roof is so flat, too, as you know your- 
 self, quartermaster, that we can walk on it, and 
 so no danger on that score while water lasts. I m 
 peaceable enough if let alone, but he whoendivers 
 to burn this block over my head will find the fire 
 squinched in his own blood.” 
 
 “ This is idle and romantic talk, Pathfinder, 
 and ye’ll no maintain it yourself when ye come 
 to meditate on the realities. I hope ye’ll no 
 gainsay the loyalty or the courage of the 55th, 
 and I feel convinced that a council of war would 
 decide on the propriety of a surrender forthwith. 
 Na’ — na’ — Pathfinder, foolhardiness is na’ mair 
 like the bravery of Wallace or Bruce, than Albany 
 on the Hudson is like the old town of Edinbro’.” 
 
 “ As each of us seems to have made up his 
 mind, quartermaster, more words are useless. If 
 the riptyles near you are disposed to set about 
 their hellish job, let them begin at once. They 
 can burn wood and I’ll burn powder. If I were 
 an Injin at the stake, I suppose I could brag as 
 well as the rest of them, but, my gifts and natur’ 
 being both white, my turn is rather for doing than 
 talking. You’ve said quite enough, considering 
 you carry the king’s commission ; and, should we 
 all be consumed, none of us will bear you any 
 malice.” 
 
 “Pathfinder, you’ll no be exposing Mabel, 
 pretty Mabel Dunham, to sic’ a calamity ! ” 
 
 “ Mabel Dunham is by the side of her wound- 
 ed father, and God will care for the safety of a 
 pious child. Not a hair of her head shall fall 
 while my arm and sight remain true ; and though 
 you may trust the Mingoes, Master Muir, I put no 
 faith in them. You’ve a knavish Tuscarora in 
 your company there, who has art and malice 
 enough to spoil the character of any tribe with 
 which he consorts, though he found the Mingoes 
 ready ruined to his hands, I fear. But, enough 
 said ; let each party go to the use of his means 
 and gifts.” 
 
 Throughout this dialogue Pathfinder kept his 
 body covered, lest a treacherous shot should be 
 aimed at the loop ; and he now directed Cap to 
 
 ascend to the roof in order to be in readiness to 
 meet the first assault. Although the latter used 
 sufficient diligence, he found no less than ten 
 blazing arrows sticking to the bark, while the air 
 was filled with the yells and whoops of the enemy. 
 
 A rapid discharge of rifles followed, and the 
 bullets came pattering against the logs, in a way 
 to show that the struggle had indeed seriously 
 commenced. 
 
 These were sounds, however, that appalled 
 neither Pathfinder nor Cap, while Mabel was too 
 much absorbed in her affliction to feel alarm t 
 She had good sense enough, too, to understand 
 the nature of the defences, and fully to appreciate 
 their importance. As for her father, the familiar 
 noises revived him, and it pained his child, at such 
 a moment, to see that his glassy eye began to 
 kindle, and that the blood returned to a cheek 
 it had deserted, as he listened to the uproar. It 
 was now Mabel first perceived that hi3 reason be- 
 gan slightly to wander. 
 
 “ Order up the light companies,” he muttered^ 
 and let the grenadiers charge ! Do they dare to 
 attack us in our fort ? Why does not the artillery 
 open on them ? ” 
 
 At that instant, the heavy report of a gun burst 
 on the night, and the crashing of rending wood 
 was heard, as a heavy shot tore the logs in the 
 room above, and the whole block shook with the 
 force of a shell that lodged in the work. Path- 
 finder narrowly escaped the passage of this for- 
 midable missile, as it entered ; but, when it ex- 
 ploded, Mabel could not suppress a shriek; for 
 she supposed all over her head, whether animate 
 or inanimate, destroyed. To increase her hor. 
 ror, her father shouted, in a frantic voice, to 
 “ charge ! ” 
 
 “ Mabel,” said Pathfinder, with his head at 
 the trap, “ this is true Mingo work— more noise 
 than injury. The vagabonds have got the how 
 itzer we took from the French, and have dis- 
 charged it ag’in the block ; but, fortunately, they 
 have fired off the only shell we had, and there is 
 an ind of its use, for the present. There is some 
 confusion among the stores up in this loft, but 
 no one is hurt. Your .uncle is still on the roof ■ 
 and as for myself, I’ve run the gantlet of too 
 many rifles to be skeary about such a tning as a 
 howitzer, and that in Injin hands.” 
 
 Mabel murmured her thanks, and tried to give 
 all her attention to her father, whose efforts to 
 rise were only counteracted by his debility. Dur- 
 ing the fearful minutes that succeeded, she wa3 so 
 much occupied with the care of the invalid, that 
 she scarce heeded the clamor that reigned around 
 her. Indeed the uproar was so great that, had 
 
17 ? 
 
 ATTEMPT TO FIRE 
 
 not her thoughts been otherwise employed, con- 
 fusion of faculties, rather than alarm, would prob- 
 ably have been the consequence. 
 
 Cap preserved his coolness admirably. He 
 had a profound and increasing respect for the 
 power of the savages, and even for the majesty 
 of fresh water, it is true ; but his apprehensions 
 of the former proceeded more from his dread of 
 being scalped and tortured, than from any unman- 
 ly fear of death : and as he was now on the deck 
 of a house, if not on the deck of a ship, and 
 knew that there was little danger of boarders, he 
 moved about with a fearlessness and a rash ex- 
 posure of his person that Pathfinder, had he 
 been aware of the fact, would have been the first 
 to condemn. Ins tead of keeping his body covered, 
 agreeably to the usages of Indian warfare, he was 
 seen on every part of the roof dashing the water 
 right and left, with the apparent steadiness and 
 unconcern he would have manifested had he been 
 a sail-trimmer exercising his art in a battle afloat. 
 His appearance was ODe of the causes of the ex- 
 traordinary clamor among the assailants, who, un- 
 used to see their enemies so reckless, opened 
 upon him with their tongues like the pack that 
 has the fox in view. Still he appeared to possess 
 a charmed life ; for, though the bullets whistled 
 around him on every side, and his clothes were 
 several times torn, nothing cut his skin. When 
 the shell passed through the logs below, the old 
 sailor dropped his bucket, waved his hat, and 
 gave three cheers ; in which heroic act he was 
 employed as the dangerous missile exploded. This 
 characteristic feat probably saved his life; for 
 from that instant the Indians ceased to fire at 
 him, and even to shoot their flaming arrows at 
 the block— having taken up the notion simulta- 
 neously, and by common consent, that the “ Salt- 
 water was mad ; ” and it was a singular effect of 
 their magnanimity, never to lift a hand against 
 those whom they imagined devoid of reason. 
 
 The conduct of Pathfinder was very different. 
 Everything he did was regulated by the most ex- 
 act calculation— the result of long experience and 
 habitual thoughtfulness. His person was kept 
 carefully out of a line with the loops, and the 
 spot that he selected for his lookout was one 
 hat was quite removed from danger. This cele- 
 >rated guide had often been known to lead forlorn 
 ‘opes ; he had once stood at the stake, suffering 
 mder the cruelties and taunts of savage ingenuity 
 nd savage ferocity, without quailing; and le- 
 ends of his exploits, coolness, and daring, were to 
 e heard all along that extensive frontier, or 
 'herever men dwelt and men contended. But, 
 
 Q this occasion, one who did not know his his- 
 oo 
 
 THE BLOCK-HOUSE. 
 
 tory and character, might have thought his ex- 
 ceeding care and studied attention to self-preser- 
 vation proceeded from an unworthy motive. Bu; 
 such a judge would not have understood his sub- 
 ject. The Pathfinder bethought him of Mabel, 
 and of what might possibly be the consequences 
 to that poor girl should any casualty befall him- 
 self. But the recollection rather quickened hie 
 intellect than changed his customary prudence. 
 He was, in fact, one of those who was so una* 
 customed to fear, that he never bethought him of 
 the constructions others might put upon his con- 
 duct. But while, in moments of danger, he acted 
 with the wisdom of the serpent, it was also with 
 the simplicity of a child. 
 
 For the first ten minutes of the assault, Path- 
 finder never raised the breech of his rifle from 
 the floor, except when he changed his own posi- 
 tion— for he well knew that the bullets of the en- 
 emy were thrown away upon the massive logs of 
 the work ; and, as he had been at the capture of 
 the howitzer, he felt certain that the savages had 
 no other shell than the one found in it when the 
 piece was taken. There existed no reason, there- 
 fore, to dread the fire of the assailants, except as a 
 casual bullet might find a passage through a loop- 
 hole. One or two of these accidents did occur, but 
 the balls entered at an angle that deprived them 
 of all chance of doing any injury, so long as the 
 Indians kept near the block; and, if discharged 
 from a distance, there was scarcely the possibility 
 of one in a hundred’s striking the apertures. But 
 when Pathfinder heard the sound of moccasined 
 feet, and the rustling of brush at the foot of the 
 building, he knew that the attempt to build a fire 
 against the logs was about to be renewed. He 
 now summoned Cap from the roof, where indeed 
 all the danger had ceased, and directed him to 
 stand in readiness with his water at a hole im- 
 mediately over the spot assailed. 
 
 One less trained than our hero would have 
 been in a hurry to repel this dangerous attempt 
 also, and might have resorted to his means pre- 
 maturely ; not so with Pathfinder. His aim was 
 not only to extinguish the fire, about which he 
 felt little apprehension, but to give the enemy a 
 lesson that would render him wary during the 
 remainder of the night. In order to effect the 
 latter purpose, it became necessary to wait until 
 the light of the intended conflagration should di- 
 rect his aim, when he well knew that a verv slight 
 effort of his skill would suffice. The Iroquois were 
 permitted to collect their heap of dried brush, 
 to pile it against the block, to light it, and to re- 
 turn to their covers, without molestation. All 
 that Pathfinder would suffer Cap to do was, to 
 
178 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 roll a barrel filled with water to the hole imme- 
 diately over the spot, in readiness to be used at 
 the proper instant. That moment, however, did 
 not arrive, in his judgment, until the blaze ilium- 
 mated the surrounding bushes, and there had 
 been time for his quick and practised eye to detect 
 the forms of three or four lurking savages, who 
 were watching the progress of the flames, with the 
 cool indifference of men accustomed to look on 
 human misery with apathy. Then indeed he 
 spoke. 
 
 “ Are you ready, friend Cap ? ” he asked. 
 
 “ The heat begins to strike through the crevices, 
 and, although these green logs are not of the fiery 
 natur’ of an ill-tempered man, they may be kin- 
 dled into a blaze if one provokes them too much. 
 Are you ready with the barrel?— See that it has 
 the right cut, and that none of the water is 
 wasted.” 
 
 “ All ready — •” answered Cap, in the manner 
 in which a seaman replies to such a demand. 
 
 « Then wait for the word. Never be over im- 
 patient in a critical time, nor fool-risky in a bat- 
 tle. Wait for the word.” 
 
 While the Pathfinder was giving these direc- 
 tions, he was also making his own preparations, 
 for he saw it was time to act. Killdeer was de- 
 liberately raised, pointed, and discharged. The 
 whole process occupied about half a minute, and, 
 as the rifle was drawn in, the eye of the marks- 
 man was applied to the hole. 
 
 “ There is one riptyle the less — ” Pathfinder 
 muttered to himself— “ I’ve seen that vagabond 
 afore, and know him to be a marciless devil. 
 Well, well ; the man acted according to his gifts, 
 and he has been rewarded according to his gifts. 
 One more of the knaves, and that will sarve the 
 turn for to-night. When daylight appears, we 
 may have hotter work.” 
 
 All this time, another rifle was getting ready ; 
 and, as Pathfinder ceased, a second savage fell. 
 This, indeed, sufficed; for, indisposed to wait for 
 a third visitation from the same hand, the whole 
 band, which had been crouching in the bushes 
 around the block, ignorant of who was and who 
 was not exposed to view, leaped from their covers, 
 and fled to different places for safety. 
 
 “Now, pour away, Master Cap,” said Path- 
 finder “ I’ve made my mark on the blackguards ; 
 
 and we shall have no more fires lighted to-night.’’ 
 
 “ Scaldings ! ” cried Cap, upsetting the bar- 
 rel with a care that at once and completely extin- 
 guished the flames. 
 
 Thi3 ended the singular conflict ; and the re- 
 mainder of the night passed in peace. Pathfinder 
 and Cap watched alternately, though neither can 
 
 be said to have slept. Sleep, indeed, scarcely 
 seemed necessary to them, for both were accus 
 tomed to protracted watchings ; and there were 
 seasons and times when the former appeared to 
 be literally insensible to the demands of hunger 
 and thirst, and callous to the effects of fatigue. 
 
 Mabel watched by her father’s pallet, and be- 
 gan to feel how much our happiness, in this world, 
 depends even on things that are imaginary. 
 Hitherto, she had virtually lived without a father, 
 the connection with her remaining parent being 
 ideal, rather than positive; but, now that she 
 was about to lose him, she thought, for the mo- 
 ment, that the world would be a void after his 
 death, and that she could never be acquainted 
 with happiness again. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 “ There was a roaring in the wind all night ; 
 
 The rain came heavily, and fell in floods ; 
 
 But now the sun is rising calm and bright; 
 
 The birds are singing in the distant woods.” 
 
 "Wordsworth. 
 
 As the light returned, Pathfinder and Cap as- 
 cended again to the roof, with a view once more 
 to reconnoitre the state of things on the island. 
 This part of the block-house had a low battlement 
 around it, which afforded a considerable protec- j 
 tion to those who stood in its centre ; the intern 
 tion having been to enable marksmen to lie be- 
 hind it, and to fire over its top. By making 
 proper use, therefore, of these slight defences— 
 slight as to height, though abundantly ample as 
 far as they went— the two lookouts commanded 
 a pretty good view of the island, its covers ex- 
 cepted ; and of most of the channels that led to 
 the spot. 
 
 The gale was still blowing very fresh at south ; 
 and there were places in the river where its sur- 
 face looked green and angry, though the wind had 
 hardly sweep enough to raise the water into foam. 
 The shape of the little island was generally oval, 
 and its greatest length was from east to west. 
 By keeping in the channels that washed it, in 
 consequence of their several courses, and of the 
 direction of the gale, it would have been possible 
 for a vessel to range past the island on either of 
 its principal sides, and always to keep the wind 
 very nearly abeam. These were the facts first 
 noticed by Cap, and explained to his companion; 
 for the hopes of both now rested on the chances 
 of relief sent from Oswego. At this instant 
 while they stood gazing anxiously about them 
 Cap cried out in his lusty, hearty manner— 
 
ARRIVAL OF THE CUTTER. 
 
 179 
 
 “Sail, ho!” 
 
 Pathfinder turned quickly in the direction of 
 flis companion’s face, and there, sure enough, was 
 just visible the object of the old sailor’s exclama- 
 tion. The elevation enabled the two to overlook 
 the low land of several of the adjacent islands ; 
 and the canvas of a vessel was seen through the 
 bushes that fringed the shore of one that lay to 
 the southward and westward. The stranger was 
 under what seamen call low sail: but so great 
 was the power of the wind, that her white out- 
 lines were seen flying past the openings of the ver- 
 dure with the velocity of a fast-travelling horse ; 
 resembling a cloud driving in the heavens. 
 
 “ That cannot be Jasper ! ” said Pathfinder, in 
 disappointment : for he did not recognize the cut- 
 ter of his friend, in the swift passing object. 
 “No— no — the lad is behind the hour; that is 
 some craft that the Frenchers have sent to aid 
 their friends, the accursed Mingoes.” 
 
 “This time you are out in your reckoning, 
 friend Pathfinder, if you never were before,” 
 returned Cap, in a manner that had lost none of 
 its dogmatism by the critical circumstances in 
 which they were placed. « Fresh-water or salt, 
 that is the head of the Scud’s mainsail, for it is 
 cut with a smaller gore than common ; and then 
 you can see that the gaff has been fished — quite 
 neatly done, I admit, but fished.” 
 
 “ I can see none of this, I confess,” answered 
 Pathfinder, to whom even the terms of his com- 
 panion were Greek. 
 
 “ No ! — Well, I own that surprises me ; for I 
 thought your eyes could see any thing ! Now, to 
 me, nothing is plainer than that gore and that 
 fish ; and I must say, my honest friend, that, in 
 your place, I should apprehend that my sight was 
 beginning to fail.” 
 
 “ If Jasper is truly coming, I shall apprehend 
 but little. We can make good the block against 
 the whole Mingo nation, for the next eight or ten 
 hours ; and, with Eau-douce to cover the retreat, 
 
 I shall despair of nothing. God send that the 
 lad may not run alongside of the bank, and fall 
 mto an ambushment, as befell the sargeant ! ” 
 
 Ay ; there’s the danger. There ought to 
 have been signals concerted, and an anchorage- 
 ground buoyed out, and even a quarantine sta- 
 tion, or a lazaretto, would have been useful, 
 could we have made these Minks-ho respect the 
 laws. If the lad fetches up, as you say, any- 
 where in the neighborhood of this island, we may 
 look upon the cutter as lost. And, after all, 
 Master Pathfinder, ought we not to set down this 
 same Jasper as a secret ally of the French, rather 
 ‘han as a friend of our own? — I know the 
 
 sergeant views the matter in that light, and 1 
 must say this whole affair looks like treason ! ” 
 
 “We shall soon know, We shall soon know, 
 Master Cap, for there indeed comes the cutter, 
 clear of the other island, and five minutes must 
 settle the matter. It would be no more than 
 fair, however, if we could give the boy some sign 
 in the way of warning. It is not right that he 
 should fall into the trap, without a notice that it 
 has been laid.” 
 
 Anxiety and suspense, notwithstanding, pre- 
 vented either from attempting to make any 
 signal. It was not easy, truly, to see how it 
 could be done; for the Scud came foaming 
 through the channel, on the weather side of the 
 island, at a rate that scarce admitted of the neces- 
 sary time. Nor was any one visible on her deck 
 to make signs to ; even her helm seemed deserted, 
 though her course was as steady as her progress 
 was rapid. 
 
 Cap stood in silent admiration of a spectacle 
 so unusual. But, as the Scud drew nearer, his 
 practised eye detected the helm in play, by means 
 of tiller-ropes, though the person who steered 
 was concealed. As the cutter had weather-boards 
 of some little height, the mystery was explained ; 
 no doubt remaining that her people lay behind 
 the latter, in order to be protected from the 
 rifles of the enemy. As this fact showed that no 
 force, beyond that of the small crew, could be 
 on board, Pathfinder received his companion’s 
 explanation with an ominous shake of the head. 
 
 “ This proves that the Sarpent has not reached 
 Oswego, ’ he said, “ and that we are not to expect 
 succor from the garrison. I hope Lundie has 
 not taken it into his head to displace the lad, for 
 Jasper Western would be a host of himself, in 
 such a strait. We three, Master Cap, ought to 
 make a manful warfare— you, as a seaman, to 
 keep up the intercourse with the cutter ; Jasper, 
 as a laker, who knows all that is necessary to be 
 done on the water ; and I, with gifts that are as 
 good as any among the Mingoes, let me be what 
 I may in other particulars. I say, we ought to 
 make a manful fight in Mabel’s behalf.” 
 
 “ That we ought — and that we will,” answered 
 Cap, heartily, for he began to have more confi- 
 dence in the security of his scalp, now that he 
 saw the sun again; “ I set down the arrival of 
 the Scud as one circumstance, and the chances 
 of Eau-douce’s honesty as another. This Jasper 
 is a young man of prudence, you find, for he 
 keeps a good offing, and seems determined to 
 know how matters stand on the island, before he 
 ventures to bring up.” 
 
 “ 1 hay e it— I have it”— exclaimed Pathfinder 
 
180 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 with exultation— “ there lies the canoe of the 
 Sarpent on the cutter’s deck, and the chief has 
 got on board, and no doubt has given a true ac- 
 count of our condition , unlike a Mingo, a Dela- 
 ware is sartain to get a story right, or to hold his 
 tongue.” 
 
 Pathfinder’s disposition to think well of the 
 Delawares, and to think ill of the Mingoes, must, 
 by this time, be very apparent to the reader. Of 
 the veracity of the former he entertained the 
 highest respect, while of the latter he thought, 
 as the more observant and intelligent classes of 
 this country are getting pretty generally to think 
 of certain scribblers among ourselves, who are 
 known to have been so long in the habits of men- 
 dacity, that it is thought they can no longer tell 
 the truth, even when they seriously make the ef- 
 fort. 
 
 “ That canoe may belong to the cutter,” said 
 the captious seaman — “ Oh !-the-Deuce had one 
 op. board when we sailed.” 
 
 « Very true, friend Cap ; but, if you know 
 your sails and masts by your gores and fishes, I 
 know my canoes and my paths by frontier knowl- 
 edge. If you can see new cloth in a sail, I can 
 see new bark in a canoe. That is the boat of the 
 Sarpent, and the noble fellow has struck off for 
 the garrison, as soon as he found the block be- 
 sieged, has fallen in with the Scud, and, after tell- 
 ing his story, has brought the cutter down here 
 to see what can be done. The Lord grant that 
 Jasper Western be still on board her ! ” 
 
 n Yes yes — it might not be amiss ; for, trai- 
 
 tor or loyal, the lad has a handy way with him in 
 a gale, it must be owned.” 
 
 “ And in coming over water-falls 1 ” said Path- 
 finder, nudging the ribs of his companion with an 
 elbow, and laughing in his silent but hearty man- 
 ner. “ We will give the boy his due, though he 
 scalps us all with his own hand ! ” 
 
 The Scud was now so near that Cap made no 
 reply. The scene, just at that instant, was so 
 peculiar that it merits a particular description : 
 which may also aid the reader in forming a more 
 accurate idea of the picture we wish to draw. 
 
 The gale was still blowing violently : many of 
 the smaller trees bowed their tops, as if ready 
 to descend to the earth, while the rushing of the 
 wind through the branches of the groves resem- 
 bled the roar of distant chariots. 
 
 The air was filled with leaves which, at that 
 late season, were readily driven from their stems, 
 and flew from island to island like flights of birds. 
 With this exception, the spot seemed silent as the 
 grave. That the savages still remained was to be 
 inferred from the fact that their canoes, together 
 
 with the boats of the 55tli, lay in a group u> the 
 little cove that had been selected as a harbor. 
 Otherwise not a sign of their presence was to bo 
 detected. Though taken entirely by surprise by 
 the cutter, the sudden return of which was alto- 
 gether unlooked for, so uniform and inbred were 
 their habits of caution while on the war-path, that 
 the instant an alarm was given every man had 
 taken to his cover, with the instinct and cunning 
 of a fox seeking his hole. The same stillness 
 reigned in the block-house, for, though Pathfinder 
 and Cap could command a view of the channel, 
 they took the precaution necessary to lie concealed. 
 The unusual absence of any thing like animal life 
 on board the Scud, too, was still more remark- 
 able. As the Indians witnessed her apparently 
 undirected movements, a feeling of awe gained a 
 footing among them, and some of the boldest of 
 their party began to distrust the issue of an ex- 
 pedition that had commenced so prosperously. 
 Even Arrowhead, accustomed as he was to inter- 
 course with the whites on both sides of the lakes, 
 fancied there was something ominous in the ap- 
 pearance of this unmanned vessel, and he would 
 gladly at that moment have been landed again on 
 the main. 
 
 In the mean time the progress of the cutter 
 was steady and rapid. She held her way mid- 
 channel, now inclining to the gusts, and now ris- 
 ing again, like the philosopher that bends to the 
 calamities of life to resume his erect attitude as 
 they pass away, but always piling the water be- 
 neath her bows in foam. Although she was under 
 so very short canvas, her velocity was great, and 
 there could not have elapsed ten minutes between 
 the time when her sails were first seen glancing 
 past the trees and bushes in the distance, and the 
 moment when she was abreast of the block-house. 
 Cap and Pathfinder leaned forward as the cutter 
 came beneath their eyrie, eager to get a better 
 view of her deck, when, to the delight of both, 
 Jasper Eau-douce sprang upon his feet and gave 
 three hearty cheers. Regardless of all risk, Cap 
 leaped upon the rampart of logs, and returned 
 the greeting, cheer for cheer. Happily, the policy 
 of the enemy saved the latter, for they still lay 
 quiet, not a rifle being discharged. On the other 
 hand, Pathfinder kept in view the useful, utterly 
 disregarding the mere dramatic part of warfare 
 The moment he beheld his friend Jasper, he called 
 out to him with stentorian lungs — 
 
 “ Stand by us, lad, and the day’s our own 
 Give ’m a grist in yonder bushes, and you’ll pu 
 ’m up like partridges.” 
 
 Part of this reached Jasper’s ears, but mos 
 was borne off to leeward on the wings of th< 
 
A FLAG OF TRUCE. 
 
 rind. By the time this was said the Scud had 
 driven past, and in the next moment she was hid 
 from view by the grove in which the block-house 
 was partially concealed. 
 
 Two anxious minutes succeeded, but, at the 
 expiration of that brief space, the sails were 
 again gleaming through the trees, Jasper having 
 wore, jibed, and hauled up under the lee of the 
 island, on the other tack. The wind was free 
 enough, as has been already explained, to admit 
 of this manoeuvre ; and the cutter, catching the 
 current under her lee bow, was breasted up to 
 her course in a way that showed she would come 
 out to windward of the island again, without any 
 difficulty. This whole evolution was made with 
 the greatest facility, not a sheet being touched, 
 the sails trimming themselves, the rudder alone 
 controlling the admirable machine. The object 
 appeared to be a reconnoissance. When, however 
 the Scud had made the circuit of the entire isl- 
 and, and had again got her weatherly position in 
 the channel by which she had first approached, 
 her helm was put down, and she tacked. The 
 noise of the mainsail flapping when it filled, close 
 reefed as it was, sounded like the report of a gun, 
 and Cap trembled lest the seams should open. 
 
 “ His Majesty gives good canvas, it must be 
 owned,” muttered the old seaman ; “ and it must 
 be owned, too, that boy handles his boat as if he 
 were thoroughly bred ! D e, Master Path- 
 
 finder, if I believe, after all that has been report- 
 ed in the matter, that this Mister Oh !-the-Deuce 
 got his trade on this bit of fresh water.” 
 
 “ He did ; yes, he did. He never saw the 
 ocean, and has come by his calling altogether up 
 here on Ontario. I have often thought he has a 
 nat’ral gift, in the way of schooners and sloops, 
 and have respected him accordingly. As for 
 treason, and lying, and black-hearted vices, friend 
 Cap, Jasper Western is as free as the most vir- 
 tuosest of the Delaware warriors ; and, if you 
 crave to see a truly honest man, you must go 
 among that tribe to discover him.” 
 
 “There he comes round!” exclaimed the 
 delighted Cap, the Scud at this moment filling on 
 her original tack, “ and now we shall see what 
 the boy would be at ; he cannot mean to keep 
 running up and down these passages like a girl 
 footing it through a country-dance ! ” 
 
 The Scud now kept so much away that, for a 
 moment, the two observers on the block-house 
 feared Jasper meant to come-to ; and the savages 
 in their lairs gleamed out upon her with the sort 
 of exultation that the crouching tiger may be 
 supposed to feel, as he sees his unconscious vic- 
 tun approach his bed. But Jasper had no such 
 
 181 
 
 intention. Familiar with the shore, and acquaint- 
 ed with the depth of water on every part of the 
 island, he well knew that the Scud might be run 
 against the bank with impunity, and he ventured 
 fearlessly so near, that, as he passed through the 
 little cove, he swept the two boats of the soldiers 
 from their fastenings, and forced them out into 
 the channel, towing them with the cutter. As all 
 the canoes were fastened to the two Dunham 
 boats, by this bold and successful attempt the 
 savages were at once deprived of the means of 
 quitting the island, unless by swimming, and they 
 appeared to be instantly aware of this very im- 
 portant fact. Rising in a body, they filled the 
 air with yells, and poured in a harmless fire. 
 While up in this unguarded manner two rifles 
 were discharged by their adversaries. One came 
 from the summit of the block, and an Iroquois fell 
 dead in his tracks, shot through the brain. The 
 other came from the Scud. The last was the 
 piece of the Delaware, but, less true than that of 
 his friend, it only maimed an enemy for life. The 
 people of the Scud shouted, and the savages sank 
 again to a man, as if it might be into the earth. 
 
 “ That was the Sarpent’s voice,” said Path- 
 finder, as soon as the second piece was discharged. 
 “I know the crack of his rifle as well as I do 
 that of Killdeer. ’Tis a good barrel, though not 
 sartain death. Well-well-with Chingachgook 
 and Jasper on the water, and you and I in the 
 block, friend Cap, it will be hard if we don’t teach 
 these Mingo scamps the rationality of a fight ! ” 
 
 All this time the Scud was in motion. * As 
 soon as she had reached the end of the island, 
 Jasper sent his prizes adrift ; and they went down 
 before the wind, until they stranded on a point 
 more than a mile to leeward. He then wore, and 
 came stemming the current again, through’ the 
 other passage. Those on the summit of the block 
 could now perceive that something was in agita- 
 tion on the deck of the Scud ; and, to their great 
 delight, just as the cutter came abreast of the 
 principal cove, on the spot where most of the 
 enemy lay, the howitzer, which composed her sole 
 armament, was unmasked, and a shower of case- 
 shot was sent hissing into the bushes. A bevy 
 of quail would not have risen quicker than this 
 unexpected discharge of iron hail put up the Iro- 
 quois ; when a second savage fell by a messenger 
 sent from Killdeer, and another went limping 
 away, by a visit from the rifle of Chingachgook. 
 New covers were immediately found, however; 
 and each party seemed to prepare for the renewal 
 of the strife in another form. But the appearance 
 of June, bearing a white flag, and accompanied 
 by the French officer and Muir, stayed tho 
 
182 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 hands of all, and was the forerunner of another 
 parley. 
 
 The negotiation that followed was held be- 
 neath the block-house ; and so near it as at once 
 to put those who were uncovered completely at 
 the mercy of Pathfinder’s unerring aim. Jasper 
 anchored directly abeam; and the howitzer, too, 
 was kept trained upon the negotiators : so that 
 the besieged and their friends, with the exception 
 of the man who held the match, had no hesitation 
 about exposing their persons. Chingachgoolc 
 alone lay in ambush; more, however, from habit 
 than distrust. 
 
 “You’ve triumphed, Pathfinder,” called out 
 the quartermaster, “and Captain Sanglier has 
 come himself to offer terms. You’ll no be deny- 
 ing a brave enemy an honorable retreat, when he 
 has fought ye fairly and done all the credit he 
 could to king and country. Ye are too loyal a 
 subject yourself, to visit loyalty and fidelity with 
 a heavy judgment. I am authorized to offer, on 
 the part of the enemy, an evacuation of the island, 
 a mutual exchange of prisoners, and a restoration 
 of scalps. In the absence of baggage and artil- 
 lery, little more can be done.” 
 
 As the conversation was necessarily carried 
 on in a high key, both on account of the wind, 
 and on account of the distance, all that was said 
 was heard equally by those in the block and those 
 in the cutter. 
 
 “What do you say to that, Jasper ? ” called 
 out Pathfinder. “You hear the tarms ; shall we 
 let the vagabonds go ? or shall we mark them, 
 as they mark their sheep in the settlements, that 
 we may know them again ? ” 
 
 “What has befallen Mabel Dunham?” de- 
 manded the young man, with a frown on his hand- 
 some face that was visible even to those in the 
 block. “ If a hair of her head has been touched, 
 it will go hard with the whole Iroquois tribe ! ” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, she is safe below, nursing a dying 
 parent as becomes her sex. We owe no grudge 
 on account of the sargeant’s hurt, which comes 
 of lawful warfare ; and as for Mabel—” 
 
 “She is here!” exclaimed the girl herself, 
 who had mounted to the roof the moment she 
 found the direction things were taking. “ She is 
 here ; and, in the name of our holy religion, and 
 of that God whom we profess to worship in com- 
 mon, let there be no more bloodshed ! Enough 
 has been spilt already ; and if these men will go 
 away, Pathfinder— if they will depart peaceably, 
 Jasper — oh! do not detain one of them. My 
 poor father is approaching his end, and it were 
 better that he should draw his last breath in 
 peace with the world. Go, go, Frenchmen and 
 
 Indians ; we are no longer your enemies, and 
 harm none of you.” 
 
 « Tut, tut, Magnet,” put in Cap, “ this sounds 
 religious, perhaps, or like a book of poetry ; but 
 it does not sound like common sense. The en- 
 emy is just ready to strike ; Jasper is anchored 
 with his broadside to bear, and, no doubt with 
 springs on his cables ; Pathfinder’s eye and hand 
 are as true as the needle , and we shall get piize- 
 money, head-money, and honor in the bargain, if 
 you will not interfere for the next half hour.” 
 
 “Well,” said Pathfinder, “I incline to Ma- 
 bel’s way of thinking. There has been enough 
 bloodshed to answer our purpose and to sarve 
 the king ; and as for honor in that meaning, it 
 will do better for young ensigns and recruits, 
 than for cool-headed, obsarvant, Christian men. 
 There is honor in doing what’s right, and unhon- 
 or in doing what’s wrong ; and I think it wrong 
 to take the life even of a Mingo without a useful 
 ind in view, I do ; and right to hear reason at all 
 times. So, Lieutenant Muir, let us know what 
 your friends the Frenchers and Injins have to say 
 for themselves.” 
 
 “ My friends ! ” said Muir, starting. “ You’ll 
 no be calling the king’s enemies my friends, Path- 
 finder, because the fortune of war has thrown me 
 into their hands ? Some of the greatest warriors, 
 both of ancient and modern times, have been 
 prisoners of war ; and yon is Master Cap, who 
 can testify whether we did not do all that men 
 could devise to escape the calamity.” 
 
 “ Ay — ay,” dryly answered Cap, “escape is 
 the proper word. We ran below and hid our- 
 selves, and so discreetly, that we might have re- 
 mained in the hole to this hour, had it not been 
 for the necessity of restowing the bread-lockers. 
 You burrowed, on that occasion, quartermaster, 
 
 as handily as a fox; and how the d 1 you 
 
 knew so well where to find the spot is a matter 
 of wonder to me. A regular skulk on board ship 
 does not tail aft more readily when the jib is to 
 be stowed, than you went into that same hole ! 
 
 « And did ye no follow ? There are moments 
 in a man’s life when reason ascends to in- 
 stinct — ” 
 
 “ And men descend into holes,” interrupted 
 Cap, laughing in his boisterous way, while Path- 
 finder chimed in in his peculiar manner. Even 
 Jasper, though still filled with concern for Ma- 
 bel, was obliged to smile. “ They say the d 1 
 wouldn’t make a sailor if he didn’t look aloft, 
 and now it seems he’ll not make a soldier if he 
 doesn’t look below ! ” 
 
 This burst of merriment, though it was any 
 thing but agreeable to Muir, contributed largely 
 
REMOVAL OF TEE INDIANS. 
 
 183 
 
 toward keeping the peace. Cap fancied he had 
 said a thing much better than common, and that 
 disposed him to yield his own opinion on the 
 main point, so long as he got the good opinion of 
 his companions on his novel claim to be a wit. 
 After a short discussion, all the savages on the 
 island were collected in a body, without arms, at 
 the distance of a hundred yards from the block, 
 and under the gun of the Scud, while Pathfinder 
 descended to the door of the block-house, and 
 settled the terms on which the island was to be 
 finally evacuated by the enemy. Considering all 
 the circumstances, the conditions were not very 
 discreditable to either party. The Indians were 
 compelled to give up all their arms, even to their 
 knives and tomahawks, as a measure of precau- 
 tion, their force being still quadruple that of their 
 foes. The French officer, Monsieur Sanglier, as 
 he was usually styled, and chose to call himself, 
 remonstrated against this . act as one likely to re- 
 flect more discredit on his command than any 
 other part of the affair; but Pathfinder, who had 
 witnessed one or two Indian massacres, and knew 
 how valueless pledges became when put in oppo- 
 sition to interest where a savage was concerned, 
 was obdurate. The second stipulation was of 
 nearly the same, importance. It compelled Cap- 
 tain Sanglier to give up all his prisoners, who had 
 been kept well guarded, in the very hole or cave 
 in which Cap and Muir had taken refuge. When 
 these men were produced, four of them were 
 found to be unhurt; they had fallen merely to 
 save their lives, a common artifice in that species 
 of warfare ; and of the remainder, two were so 
 slightly injured as not to be unfit for service. 
 As they brought their muskets with them, this 
 addition to his force immediately put Pathfinder 
 at his ease, for, having collected all the arms of 
 the enemy in the block-house, he directed these 
 men to take possession of the building, stationing 
 a regular sentinel at the door. The remainder 
 of the soldiers were dead, the badly wounded 
 having been instantly dispatched in order to ob- 
 tain the much-coveted scalps. 
 
 As soon as Jasper was made acquainted with 
 the terms, and the preliminaries had been so far 
 observed as to render it safe for him to be ab- 
 sent, he got the Scud under way, and, running 
 down to the point where the boats had stranded, 
 he took them in tow again, and, making a few 
 stretches, brought them into the leeward passage. 
 Here all the savages instantly embarked, when 
 Jasper took the boats in tow a third time, and, 
 running off before the wind, he soon set them 
 adrift quite a mile to leeward of the island. The 
 Indians were furnished with but a single oar in 
 
 each boat, to steer with, the young sailor well 
 knowing that, by keeping before the wind, they 
 would land on the shores of Canada in the course 
 of the morning. 
 
 Captain Sanglier, Arrowhead, and June, alone 
 remained, when this disposition had been made 
 of the rest of the party ; the former having cer- 
 tain papers to draw up and sign with Lieutenant 
 Muir, who, in his eyes, possessed the virtueo 
 which are attached to a commission, and the lat- 
 ter preferring, for reasons of his own, not to de- 
 part in company with his late friends, the Iro- 
 quois. Canoes were retained for the departure 
 of these thre'e when the proper moment should 
 arrive. 
 
 In the mean time, or while the Scud was run- 
 ning down with the boats in tow, Pathfinder and 
 Cap, aided by proper assistants, busied them- 
 selves with preparing a breakfast; most of the 
 party not having eaten for four-and-twenty hours. 
 The brief space that passed in this manner, be- 
 fore the Scud came-to again, was little interrupted 
 by discourse, though Pathfinder found leisure to 
 pay a visit to the sergeant, to say a few friendly 
 words to Mabel, and to give such directions as he 
 thought might smooth the passage of the dying 
 man. As for Mabel, herself, he insisted on her 
 taking some light refreshment, and, there no long- 
 er existing any motive for keeping it there, he 
 had the guard removed from the block, in order 
 that the daughter might have no impediment to 
 her attentions to her father. These little ar. 
 rangements completed, our hero returned to the 
 fire, around which he found all the remainder of 
 the party assembled, including Jasper. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 “You saw but sorrow in its waning form, 
 
 A working sea remaining from a storm, 
 
 Where now the weary waves roll o’er the deep, 
 
 And faintly murmur ere they fall asleep.” 
 
 Dryden. 
 
 Men accustomed to a warfare like that we 
 have been describing, are not apt to be much 
 under the influence of the tender feelings while 
 still in the field. Notwithstanding their habits, 
 however, more than one heart was with Mabel in 
 the block, while the incidents we are about to 
 relate were in the course of occurrence ; and even 
 the indispensable meal was less relished by the 
 hardiest of the soldiers than it might have been 
 had not the sergeant been so near his end. 
 
 As Pathfinder returned from the block, h* 
 
184 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 was met by Muir, who led him aside in order to 
 hold a private discourse. The manner of the 
 quartermaster had that air of supererogatory 
 courtesy about it which almost invariably denotes 
 artifice ; for, while physiognomy and phrenology 
 are but lame sciences at the best, and perhaps 
 lead to as many false as right conclusions, we 
 hold that there is no more infallible evidence of 
 insincerity of purpose, short of overt acts, than a 
 face that smiles when there is no occasion, and 
 the tongue that is out of measure smooth. Muir 
 had much of this manner in common, mingled 
 with an apparent frankness, that his Scottish in- 
 tonation of voice, Scottish accent, and Scottish 
 modes of expression, were singularly adapted to 
 sustain. He owed his preferment, indeed, to a 
 long-exercised deference to Lundie and his fam- 
 ily ; for, while the major himself was much too, 
 acute to be the dupe of one so much his inferior 
 in real talents and attainments, most persons are 
 accustomed to make liberal concessions to the 
 flatterer, even while they distrust his truth, and 
 are perfectly aware of his motives. On the pres- 
 ent occasion, the contest in skill was between two 
 men as completely the opposites of each other, in 
 all the leading essentials of character, as very 
 well could be. Pathfinder was as simple as the 
 quartermaster was practised ; he was as sincere 
 as the other was false, and as direct as the last 
 was tortuous. Both were cool and calculating, 
 and both were brave, though in different modes 
 and degrees ; Muir never exposing his person ex- 
 cept for effect, while the guide included fear 
 among the rational passions, or as a sensation to 
 be deferred to only when good might come of it. 
 
 “ My dearest friend,” Muir commenced, “ for 
 ye’ll be dearer to us all, by seventy and seven- 
 fold, after your late conduct, than ever ye were, 
 ye’ve just established yourself, in this late trans- 
 action ! It’s true that they’ll no be making ye a 
 commissioned officer, for that species of prefair- 
 ment is not much in your line, nor much in your 
 wishes, I’m thinking ; but as a guide, and a coun- 
 sellor, and a loyal subject, and an expert marks- 
 man, yer renown may be said to be full. I doubt 
 if the commander-in-chief will carry away with 
 him from America as much credit as will fall to 
 yer share, and ye ought just to sit down in con- 
 tent, and enjoy yourself for the remainder of yer 
 days. Get married, man, without delay, and look 
 to yer precious happiness, for ye’ve no occasion 
 to look any longer to your glory. Take Mabel 
 Dunham, for Heaven’s sake, to your bosom, and 
 ye’ll have both a bonny bride and a bonny repu- 
 iation.” 
 
 « Why, quartermaster, this is a new piece of 
 
 advice to come from your mouth ! — They’ve told 
 me I had a rival in you ! ” 
 
 “ And ye had, man ; and a formidable one, 
 too, I can tell ye ! One that has never yet court- 
 ed in vain, and yet one that has courted five 
 times. Lundie twits me with four, and I deny 
 the charge ; but he little thinks the truth would 
 outdo even his arithmetic ! Yes, yes ; ye had 
 a rival, Pathfinder, but ye’ve one no longer in 
 me. Ye’ve my hearty wishes for yer success 
 with Mabel, and were the honest sergeant likely 
 to survive, ye might rely on my good word with 
 him, too, for a certainty.” 
 
 “ I feel your friendship, quartermaster, I feel 
 your friendship, though I have no great need ot 
 any favor with Sergeant Dunham, who has long 
 been my friend. I believe we may look upon the 
 matter to be as sartain as most things in war- 
 time ; for, Mabel and her father consenting, the 
 whole 65th couldn’t very well put a stop to it. 
 Ah’s me ! the poor father will scarcely live to see 
 what his heart has so long been set upon ! ” 
 
 “ But he’ll have the consolation of knowing it 
 will come to pass, in dying. Oh ! it’s a great re- 
 lief, Pathfinder, for the parting spirit to feel cer- 
 tain that the beloved ones left behind will be well 
 provided for, after its departure. All the Mis- 
 tress Muirs have duly expressed that sentiment, 
 with their dying breaths.” 
 
 “ All your wives, quartermaster, have been 
 likely to feel this consolation ! ” 
 
 “ Out upon ye, man — I’d no thought ye such 
 a wag ! Well, well ; pleasant words make no 
 heart-burnings between auld frinds. If I cannot 
 espouse Mabel, ye’ll no object to my esteeming 
 her, and speaking well of her, and of yoursel’, too, 
 on all suitable occasions, and in all companies. 
 But, Pathfinder, ye’ll easily understan’ that a poor 
 deevil, who loses such a bride, will probably stand 
 in need of some consolation.” 
 
 “Quite likely — quite likely, quartermaster,” 
 returned the simple-minded guide ; “ I know the 
 loss of Mabel would be heavy to be borne by my- 
 self. It may bear hard on your feelings to see us 
 married, but the death of the sargeant will be 
 likely to put it off, and you’ll have time to think 
 more manfully of it, you will.” 
 
 “ I’ll bear up against it ; yes, I’ll bear up against 
 it, though my heart-strings crack ; and ye might 
 help me, man, by giving me something to do. 
 Ye’ll understand that this expedition has been of 
 a very peculiar nature, for here am I, bearing the 
 king’s commission, just a volunteer, as it might 
 be ; while a mere orderly has had the command. 
 I’ve submitted for various reasons, though my 
 blood has boiled to be in authority while ve war’ 
 
CAPTAIN SANGLIER. 
 
 185 
 
 battling for the honor of the country, and his maj- 
 esty’s rights — ” 
 
 “ Quartermaster,” interrupted the guide, “ you 
 fell so early into the inemy’s hands, that your 
 conscience ought to be easily satisfied on that 
 score ; so take my advice, and say nothing about 
 
 it.” 
 
 “ That’s just my opinion, Pathfinder ; we’ll all 
 may nothing about it. Sergeant Dunham is hors 
 de combat — ” 
 
 “ Anan ! ” said the guide. 
 
 “ Why the sergeant can command no longer 
 and it will hardly do to leave a corporal at the 
 head of a victorious party, like this ; for flowers 
 that will bloom in a garden will die on a heath ; 
 and I was just thinking I would claim the au- 
 thority that belongs to one who holds a lieuten- 
 ant’s commission. As for the men, they’ll no 
 dare to raise any objaction, and as for yoursel,’ 
 my dear friend, now that ye’ve so much honor, 
 and Mabel, and the consciousness of having done 
 yer’ duty, which is more precious than all, I ex- 
 pect to find an ally rather than one to oppose the 
 plan.” 
 
 “ As for commanding the soldiers of the 55tb, 
 lieutenant, it is your right, I suppose, and no one 
 here will be likely to gainsay it ; though you’ve 
 been a prisoner of war, and there are men who 
 might stand out ag’in giving up their authority to 
 ® prisoner released by their own deeds. Still, no 
 one here will be likely to say any thing hostile to 
 your wishes.” 
 
 “ That’s just it, Pathfinder, and when I come 
 to draw up the report of our success against the 
 boats, and the defence of the block, together with 
 the general operations, including the capitulation, 
 ye’ll no find any omission of your claims and 
 merits.” 
 
 “ Tut, for my claims and merits, quartermaster ! 
 Lundie knows what I am in the forest, and what 
 I am in the fort ; and the general knows better 
 than he. No fear of me ; tell your own story, 
 only taking care to do justice by Mabel’s father, 
 who, in one sense, is the commanding officer at 
 at this very moment.” 
 
 Muir expressed his entire satisfaction at this 
 arrangement, as well as his determination to do 
 justice by all, when the two went to the group 
 that was assembled round the fire. Here the 
 quartermaster began, for the first time since leav- 
 ing Oswego, to assume some of the authority that 
 might properly be supposed to belong to his rank. 
 Taking the remaining corporal aside, he distinctly 
 told that functionary that he must in future be 
 regarded as one holding the king’s commission, 
 and directed him to acquaint his subordinates 
 
 with the new state of things. This change in the 
 dynasty was effected without any of the usual 
 symptoms of a revolution ; for, as all well under- 
 stood the lieutenant’s legal claims to command, 
 no one felt disposed to dispute his orders. For 
 reasons best known to themselves, Lundie and 
 the quartermaster had, originally, made a differ- 
 ent disposition, and now, for reasons of his own, 
 the latter had seen fit to change it. This was 
 reasoning enough for soldiers, though the hurt 
 received by Sergeant Dunham would have suffi- 
 ciently explained the circumstance had an ex- 
 planation been required. 
 
 All this time Captain Sanglier was looking 
 after his own breakfast, with the resignation of a 
 philosopher, the coolness of a veteran, the in- 
 genuity and science of a Frenchman, and the 
 voracity of an ostrich. This person had now 
 been in the colony some thirty years, having left 
 France in some such situation in his own army, as 
 Muir filled in the 55th. An iron constitution, 
 perfect obduracy of feeling, a certain address 
 well suited to manage savages, and an indomitable 
 courage, had early pointed him out to the com- 
 mander-in-chief as a suitable agent to be em- 
 ployed in directing the military operations of his 
 Indian allies. In this capacity, then, he had 
 risen to the titular rank of captain ; and with his 
 promotion had acquired a portion of the habits 
 and opinions of his associates, with a facility and 
 an adaptation of self, that are thought, in this part 
 of the world, to be peculiar to his countrymen. 
 He had often led parties of the Iroquois in their 
 predatory expeditions ; and his conduct on such 
 occasions exhibited the contradictory results of 
 both alleviating the misery produced by this 
 species of warfare, and of augmenting it, by the 
 broader views and greater resources of civiliza- 
 tion. In other words, he planned enterprises, 
 that, in their importance and consequences, much 
 exceeded the usual policy of the Indians, and 
 then stepped in to lessen some of the evils of his 
 own creating. In short, he was an adventurer 
 whom circumstances had thrown into a situation 
 where the callous qualities of men of his class 
 might readily show themselves, for good or for 
 evil ; and he was not of a character to baffle for- 
 tune by any ill-timed squeamishness on the score 
 of early impressions, or to trifle with her liberali 
 ty, by unnecessarily provoking her frowns through 
 wanton cruelty. Still, as his name was unavoid 
 ably connected with many of the excesses com 
 mitted by his parties, he was generally considered, 
 in the American Provinces, a wretch who delight 
 ed in bloodshed, and who found his greatest 
 happiness in tormenting the helpless and the in- 
 
186 * 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 nocent; and the name of Sanglier, which was a 
 sobriquet of his own adopting, or of Flint Heart, 
 as he was usually termed on the borders, had got 
 to be as terrible to the women and children of 
 that part of the country, as those of Butler and 
 Brandt became at a later day. 
 
 The meeting between Pathfinder and Sanglier 
 bore some resemblance to that celebrated inter- 
 view between Wellington and Blucher, which has 
 been so often and graphically told. It took place 
 at the fire; and the parties stood earnestly re- 
 garding each other for more than a minute with- 
 out speaking. Each felt that in the other he saw 
 a formidable foe ; and each felt, while he ought to 
 treat the other with the manly liberality due to 
 a warrior, that there was little in common be- 
 tween them, in the way of character, as well as of 
 interests. One served for money and preferment ; 
 the other, because his life had been cast in the 
 wilderness, and the land of his birth needed his 
 arm and experience. The desire of rising above 
 his present situation never disturbed the tran- 
 quillitv of Pathfinder ; nor had he ever known an 
 ambitious thought, as ambition usually betrays 
 itself, until he became acquainted with Mabel. 
 Since’ then, indeed, distrust of himself, reverence 
 for her, and the wish to place her in a situation 
 above that which he then filled, had caused him 
 some uneasy moments, but the directness and 
 simplicity of his character had early afforded the 
 required relief; and he soon came to feel, that 
 the woman who would not 'hesitate to accept him 
 for her husband, would not scruple to share his 
 fortunes, however humble. He respected San- 
 glier as a brave warrior; and he had far too 
 much of that liberality which is the result of prac- 
 tical knowledge, to believe half of what he had 
 heard to his prejudice; for, the most bigoted and 
 illiberal on every subject are usually those who 
 know nothing about it ; but he could not approve 
 of his selfishness, cold-blooded calculations, and, 
 least of all, of the manner in which he forgot his 
 “white gifts,” to adopt those that were purely 
 “ red.” On the other hand, Pathfinder was a rid- 
 dle to Captain Sanglier. The latter could not 
 comprehend the other’s motives; he had often 
 heard of his disinterestedness, justice, and truth ; 
 and, in several instances, they had led him into 
 grave errors, on that principle by which a frank 
 and open-mouthed diplomatist is said to keep his 
 secrets better than one that is close-mouthed and 
 wily. 
 
 After the two heroes had gazed at each other, in 
 the manner mentioned, Monsieur Sanglier touched 
 his cap ; for the rudeness of a border life had not 
 eatirely destroyed the courtesy of manner he had 
 
 acquired in youth, nor extinguished that appear* 
 ance of bonhomie which seems inbred in a 
 Frenchman. 
 
 “ Monsieur le Pathfindair,” he said, with a very 
 decided accent, though with a friendly smile “ un 
 miliiaire honor le courage et la loyaute. You 
 speak Iroquois ? ” 
 
 “Ay, I understand the language of the rip- 
 tvJes, and can get along with it, if there’s oc- 
 casion,” returned the literal and truth-telling 
 guide ; “ but it’s neither a tongue nor a tribe to 
 my taste. Wherever you find the Mingo blood, 
 in my opinion, Master Flinty-heart, you find a 
 knave. Well, I’ve seen you often, though it was 
 in battle ; and, I must say, it was always in tho 
 van. You must know most of our bullets by 
 sight?” 
 
 “Nevvair, sair, your own; une balle from 
 your honorable hand be sartaine deat’. You kill 
 my best warrior on some island.” 
 
 “ That may be — that may be — though I dare 
 say, if the truth was known, they would turn out 
 to be great rascals. No offence to you, Master 
 Flinty-heart, but you keep desperate evil com- 
 pany.” 
 
 “ Yes, sair,” returned the Frenchman, who, 
 bent on saying that which was courteous him- 
 self, and comprehending with difficulty, was dis- 
 posed to think he received a compliment— “ you 
 too good. But, un brave always comme fd. 
 What that mean— ha ! — what that jcune homme 
 do?” 
 
 The hand and eye of Captain Sanglier direct- 
 ed the look of Pathfinder to the opposite side of 
 the fire, where Jasper, just at that moment, had 
 been rudely seized by two of the soldiers, who 
 were binding his arms under the direction of 
 Muir. 
 
 “ What does that mean, indeed ? ” cried the 
 guide, stepping forward, and shoving the two 
 subordinates away with a power of muscle that 
 would not be denied. “Who has the heart to 
 do this to Jasper Eau-douce ; and who has the 
 boldness to do it before my eyes ? ” 
 
 “ It is by my orders, Pathfinder,” answered the 
 quartermaster ; “ and I command it on my own 
 responsibility. Ye’ll no tak’ on yourself to dis 
 pute the legality of orders given by one who bears 
 tho king’s commission to the king’s soldiers ? ” 
 
 “ I’d dispute the king’s words if they came 
 from the king’s own mouth, did they say that 
 Jasper desarves this. Has not the lad just saved 
 all our scalps ?— taken us from defeat, and given 
 us victory ? No, no, Lieutenant ; if this is the 
 first use that you make of your authority, I fo* 
 one will not respect it.” 
 
THE QUARTERMASTER’S DEATH. 
 
 “ This savors a little of insubordination,” an- 
 swered Muir ; “ but we can bear much from Path- 
 finder. It is true this Jasper has seemed to serve 
 us in this affair ; but we ought not to overlook 
 past transactions. Did not Major Duncan him- 
 eelf denounce him to Sergeant Dunham, before 
 we left the post ? Have we not seen sufficient 
 with our own eyes to make sure of having been 
 betrayed ? And is it not natural, and almost 
 necessary to believe that this young man has been 
 the traitor ? Ah I Pathfinder, ye’ll no be makin’ 
 yourself a great statesman or a great captain, if 
 you put too much faith in appearances. Lord bless 
 me ! — Lord bless me ! if I do not believe, could 
 the truth be come at, as you often say yourself, 
 Pathfinder, that hypocrisy is a more common 
 vice than even envy ; and that’s the bane o’ human 
 nature.” 
 
 Captain Sanglier shrugged his shoulders ; then 
 he looked earnestly from Jasper toward the quar- 
 termaster, and from the quartermaster toward 
 Jasper. 
 
 “ I care not for your envy or your hypocrisy, 
 or even for your human natur’,” returned Path- 
 finder. “ Jasper Eau-douce is my friend ; Jas- 
 per Eau-douce is a brave lad, and an honest lad, 
 and a loyal lad ; and no man of the 55th shall 
 lay hands on him short of Lundie’s own orders, 
 while I’m in the way to prevent it. You may 
 have authority over your soldiers, but you have 
 none over Jasper or me, Master Muir.” 
 
 “ Bon” ejaculated Sanglier ; the sound par- 
 taking equally of the energies of the throat and 
 of the nose. 
 
 . “ Will ye no hearken to reason, Pathfinder ? 
 
 Ye’ll no be forgetting our suspicions and judg- 
 ments ; and here is another circumstance to aug- 
 ment and aggravate them all. You can see 
 this little bit of bunting ; well, where should 
 it be found but by Mabel Dunham, on the branch 
 of a tree, on this very island, just an hour or so 
 before the attack of the enemy ; and if ye’ll be 
 at the trouble to look at the fly of the Scud’s 
 ensign, ye’ll just say that the cloth has been cut 
 from out it. Circumstantial evidence was never 
 stronger.” 
 
 “ Ma foi, c'est un pen fort , ceci,” growled San- 
 glier, between his teeth. 
 
 “ Talk to me of no ensigns and signals, when 
 I know the heart,” continued the Pathfinder. 
 “Jasper has the gift of honesty; and it is too 
 rare a gift to be trifled with like a Mingo’s con- 
 science. No, no ; off hands, or we shall see 
 Which can make the stoutest battle — you, and 
 your men of the 65th, or the Sarpent here, and 
 E dideer, with Jasper and his crew. You over 
 
 187 
 
 rate your force, Lieutenant Muir, as much as you 
 underrate Eau-douce’s truth.” 
 
 “ Trh bon ! ” 
 
 “Well, if I must speak plainly, Patlifindei, I 
 e’en must. Captain Sanglier here, and Arrow- 
 head, this brave Tuscarora, have both informed 
 me that this unfortunate boy is the traitor. 
 After such testimony you can no longer oppose 
 ray right to correct him, as well as the necessity 
 of the act.” 
 
 “ Sceleratf muttered the Frenchman. 
 
 “ Captain Sanglier is a brave soldier, and will 
 not gainsay the conduct of an honest sailor,” put 
 in Jasper. “ Is there any traitor here, Captain 
 Flinty-heart ? ” 
 
 “Ay,” added Muir, “let him speak out then, 
 since ye wish it, unhappy youth ; that the truth 
 may be known. I only hope that ye may escape 
 the last punishment when a court will be sitting 
 on your misdeeds. How is it, Captain, do ye or 
 or do ye not see a traitor among us ? ” 
 
 “ Qui — yes, sair — biensur .” 
 
 “ Too much lie” — said Arrowhead, in a voice 
 of thunder, striking the breast of Muir, with the 
 back of his own hand, in a sort of ungovernable 
 gesture. “Where my warriors? — where Yen- 
 geese scalp ? — Too much lie.” 
 
 Muir wanted not for personal courage, nor for 
 a certain sense of personal honor. The violence 
 which had been intended only lor a gesture he 
 mistook for a blow ; for conscience was suddenly 
 aroused within him ; and he stepped back a pace 
 extending a hand toward a gun. His face was 
 livid with rage ; and his countenance expressed the 
 fell intention of his heart. But Arrowhead was 
 too quick for him. With a wild glance of the 
 eye, the Tuscarora looked about him ; then, 
 thrusting a hand beneath his own girdle, drew 
 forth a concealed knife, and, in the twinkling of 
 an eye, buried it in the body of the quarter- 
 master to the handle. As the latter fell at his 
 feet, gazing into his face with the vacent stare 
 of one surprised by death, Sanglier took a pinch 
 of snuff, and said, in a calm voice : 
 
 “ Voild V affaire finie — mais ” — shrugging his 
 shoulders, “ ce n'est qu'un scelerat de moins.” 
 
 The act was too sudden to be prevented 
 and when Arrowhead, uttering a yell, bounded into 
 the bushes, the white men were too confounded 
 to follow. Chingachgook, however, was more 
 collected ; and the bushes had scarcely closed on 
 the passing body of the Tuscarora, than they 
 were again opened by that of the Delaware in 
 full pursuit. 
 
 Jasper Western spoke French fluently, and 
 the words and manner of Sanglier struck him. 
 
188 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 "Speak, Monsieur,” he said, in English, 11 am 
 I the traitor ? ” 
 
 « vo ild answered the cool Frenchman— 
 “dat is our espion — our agent— our friend— yim 
 
 foi detail un grand scelerat — void 
 
 hile speaking, Sanglier bent over the dead 
 body, and thrust a band into a pocket of the 
 quartermaster, out of which he drew a purse. 
 Emptying the contents on the ground, several 
 double-louis rolled toward the soldiers, who were 
 not slow in picking them up. Casting the purse 
 from him. in contempt, the soldier of fortune 
 turned toward the soup he had been preparing 
 with so much care, and, finding it to his liking, he 
 began to break his fast, with an air of indiffer- 
 ence that the most stoical Indian warrior might 
 have envied. 
 
 CHAPTER XXYII. 
 
 « The only amaranthine flower on earth 
 la virtue; th’ only lasting treasure, truth.” 
 
 Cowper. 
 
 The reader must imagine some of the occur- 
 rences that followed the sudden death of Muir. 
 While his body was in the hands of his soldiers, 
 who laid it decently aside, and covered it with 
 a great-coat, Chingachgook silently resumed his 
 place at the fire, and both Sanglier and Path- 
 finder remarked that he carried a fresh and bleed- 
 ing scalp at his girdle. No one asked any ques- 
 tions ; and the former, although perfectly satisfied 
 that Arrowhead bad fallen, manifested neither 
 curiosity nor feeling. He continued calmly eating 
 his soup, as if the meal had been tranquil as usual. 
 There was something of pride, and of an assumed 
 indifference to fate, imitated from the Indians, in 
 all this ; but there was more that really resulted 
 from practice, habitual self-command, and con- 
 stitutional hardihood. With Pathfinder, the case 
 was a little different in feeling, though much the 
 same in appearance. He disliked Muir, whose 
 smooth-tongued courtesy was little in accordance 
 with his own frank and ingenuous nature ; but he 
 had been shocked at his unexpected and violent 
 death, though accustomed to similar scenes, and he 
 had been surprised at the exposure of his treachery. 
 With a view to ascertain the extent of the latter, 
 as soon as the body was removed he began to ques- 
 tion the captain on the subject. The latter, having 
 no particular motive for secrecy, now that his agent 
 was dead, in the course of the breakfast revealed 
 the following circumstances, which will serve to 
 clear ud some of the minor incidents of our tale. 
 
 Soon after the 55th appeared on the frontiers, 
 Muir had volunteered his services to the enemy. 
 
 In making his offers he boasted of his intimacy 
 with Lundie, and of the means it afforded of fur- 
 nishing more accurate and important information 
 than usual. His terms had been accepted, and 
 Monsieur Sanglier had several interviews with 
 him in the vicinity of the fort at Oswego, and had 
 actually passed one entire night secreted in the 
 garrison. Arrowhead, however, was the usual 
 channel of communication, and the anonymous 
 letter to Major Duncan had been originally written 
 by Muir, transmitted to Frontenac, copied, and 
 Sent back by the Tusdarora, who was returning 
 from that errand when captured by the Scud. It 
 is scarcely necessary to add, that Jasper was to 
 be sacrificed in order to conceal the quarter- 
 master’s treason, and that the position of the 
 island had been betrayed to the enemy by the lat- 
 ter. An extraordinary compensation, that which 
 was found in his purse, had induced him to ac- 
 company the party under Sergeant Dunham, in 
 order to give the signals that were to bring on the 
 attack. The disposition of Muir toward the sex 
 was a natural weakness, and he would have mar- 
 ried Mabel or any one else who would accept his 
 hand ; but his admiration of her was in a great 
 degree feigned, in order that he might have an ex- 
 cuse for accompanying the party, without sharing 
 in the responsibility of its defeat, or incurring the 
 risk of having no other strong and seemingly suf- 
 ficient motive. Much of this was known to Cap- 
 tain Sanglier, particularly the part in connection 
 with Mabel ; and he did not fail to let his auditors 
 into the whole secret, frequently laughing in a 
 sarcastic manner, as he revealed the different ex- 
 pedients of the luckless quartermaster. 
 
 “ Touchez-la ,” said the cold-blooded partisan, 
 holding out his sinewy hand to Pathfinder, when 
 he ended his explanations — “you be honnete, and 
 dat is beaucoup. We tak’ de spy, as we tak la 
 medidne, for de good; mais, je les deteste! Ton 
 chez-laV 
 
 “I’ll shake your hand, captain, I will, foi 
 you’re a lawful and nat’ral inimy,” returned Path 
 finder, “ and a manful one ; but the body of the 
 quartermaster shall never disgrace English ground. 
 I did intend to carry it back to Lundie, that he 
 might play his bagpipes over it ; but now it shall 
 lie here, on the spot where he acted his villany, 
 and have his own treason for a head-stone. Cap- 
 tain Flinty-heart, I suppose this consorting with 
 traitors is a part of a soldier’s regular business ; 
 but I tell you, honestly, it is not to my liking, and 
 I’d rather it should be you than I who had thii 
 affair on his conscience. What an awful sinner 
 
JASPER ACQUITTED OF TREASON. 
 
 189 
 
 —To plot right and left ag : in country, friends, and 
 the Lord ! — Jasper, boy, a word with you aside for 
 a single minute.” 
 
 Pathfinder now led the young man apart, and 
 squeezing his hand, with the tears in his own eyes, 
 he continued : 
 
 “ You know me, Eau-douce, and I know you,” 
 he said, “ and this news has not changed my 
 opinion of you in any manner. I never believed 
 their tales, though it looked solemn at one minute, 
 I will own ; yes, it did look solemn ; and it made 
 me feel solemn, too. I never suspected you for a 
 minute, for I know your gifts don’t lie that-a-way ; 
 but I must own I didn’t suspect the quarter- 
 master neither.” 
 
 “And he holding his majesty’s commission, 
 Pathfinder ! ” 
 
 “It isn’t so much that, Jasper Western; it 
 isn’t so much that. He held a commission from 
 God to act right, and to deal fairly with his fellow- 
 creatur’s, and he has failed awfully in his duty 1 ” 
 
 “To think of his pretending love for one like 
 Mabel, too, when he felt none ! ” 
 
 “That was bad sartainly; the fellow must 
 have Mingo blood in his veins’. The man that 
 deals unfairly by a woman can be but a mongrel, 
 lad; for the Lord has made them helpless on 
 purpose that we may gain their love by kindness 
 and sarvices. Here is the sargeant, poor man, on 
 his dying bed ; he has given me his daughter for 
 a wife, and Mabel, dear girl, she has consented to 
 it ; and it makes me feel that I have two welfares 
 to look after, two natur’s to care for, and two 
 hearts to gladden. Ah’s me! Jasper; I some- 
 times feel that I’m not good enough for that sweet 
 child ! ” 
 
 Eau-douce had nearly gasped for breath when 
 he first heard this intelligence ; and, though he 
 succeeded in suppressing any other outward signs 
 of agitation, his cheek was blanched nearly to the 
 paleness of death. Still he found means to an- 
 swer, not only with firmness, but with energy. 
 
 “ Say not so, Pathfinder ; you are good 
 enough for a queen.” 
 
 “Ay, ay, boy, according to your ideas of my 
 goodness ; that is to say — I can kill a deer, or 
 even a Mingo at need, with any man on the lines ; 
 or I can follow a forest path with as true an eye, 
 or read the stars, when others do not understand 
 them. No doubt, no doubt, Mabel will have ven- 
 ison enough, and fish enough, and pigeons enough ; 
 but will she have knowledge enough, and will she 
 have ideas enough, and pleasant conversation 
 enough, when life comes to drag a little, and each 
 of us begins to pass for our true value ? ” 
 
 “ If you pass for your value, Pathfinder, the 
 
 greatest lady in the land would be happy with 
 you. On that head, you have no reason to fee) 
 afraid.” 
 
 “Now, Jasper, I dare to say you think so— 
 nay, I know you do ; for it is nat’ral and accord- 
 ing to friendship, for people to look over favor- 
 ably at them they love. Yes, yes; if I had to 
 marry you, boy, I should give myself no consarn 
 about being well looked upon, for you have al- 
 ways shown a disposition to see me and all I do 
 with friendly eyes. But a young gal, after all, 
 must wish to marry a man that is nearer to her 
 own age and fancies, than to have one old enough 
 to be her father, and rude enough to frighten her. 
 I wonder, Jasper, that Mabel never took a fancy 
 to you, now, rather than setting her mind on 
 me ! ” 
 
 “ Take a fancy to me, Pathfinder ! ” returned 
 the young man, endeavoring to clear his voice 
 without betraying himself — “ What is there about 
 me to please such a girl as Mabel Dunham ? I 
 have all that you find fault with in yourself, with 
 none of that excellence that makes even the gen- 
 erals respect you.” 
 
 “ Well — well — it’s all chance, say what we 
 will about it. Here I have journeyed and guided 
 through the woods, female after female, and con- 
 sorted with them in the garrisons, and never have 
 I even felt an inclination for any, until I saw Ma- 
 bel Dunham. It’s true the poor sergeant first set 
 me to thinking about his daughter ; but, after we 
 got a little acquainted like, I’d no need of being 
 spoken to, to think of her night and day. I’m 
 tough, Jasper; yes, I’m very tough; and I’m 
 risolute enough, as you all know ; and yet I do 
 think it would quite break me down now, to lose 
 Mabel Dunham ! ” 
 
 “We will talk no more of it, Pathfinder,” said 
 Jasper, returning his friend’s squeeze of the hand, 
 and moving back toward the fire, though slowly, 
 and in the manner of one who cared little where 
 he went ; “ we will talk no more of it. You are 
 worthy of Mabel, and Mabel is worthy of you — 
 you like Mabel, and Mabel likes you — her father 
 has chosen you for her husband, and no one has 
 a right to interfere. As for the quartermaster, 
 his feigning love for Mabel is worse even than his 
 treason to the king ! ” 
 
 By this time they were so near the fire, that it 
 was necessary to change the conversation. Lucki- 
 ly, at that instant, Cap, who had been in the block 
 in company with his dying brother-in-law, and 
 who knew nothing of what had passed since the 
 capitulation, now appeared, walking with a medi- 
 tative and melancholy air toward the group. 
 Much of that hearty dogmatism that imparted 
 
190 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 even to his ordinary air and demeanor an appear- 
 ance of something like contempt for all around 
 him, had disappeared, and he seemed thoughtful, 
 if not meek. 
 
 “ This death, gentlemen,” he said, when he 
 had got sufficiently near, “ is a melancholy busi- 
 ness, make the best of it. Now, here is Sergeant 
 Dunham, a very good soldier, I make no question, 
 about to slip his cable, and yet he holds on to the 
 better end of it, as if he was determined it should 
 never run out of the hawse-hole ; and all because 
 he loves his daughter, it seems to me. For my 
 part, when a friend is really under the necessity 
 of making a long journey, I always wish him well 
 and happily off.” 
 
 “ You wouldn’t kill the sergeant before his 
 time?” Pathfinder reproachfully answered. 
 “ Life is sweet, even to the aged ; and, for that 
 matter, I’ve known some that seemed to set much 
 store by it, when it got to be of the least value.” 
 
 Nothing had been further from Cap’s real 
 thoughts than the wish to hasten his brother-in- 
 law’s end. He had found himself embarrassed 
 with the duties of smoothing a death-bed, and all 
 he had meant was to express a sincere desire that 
 the sergeant were happily rid of doubt and suf- 
 fering. A little shocked, therefore, at the inter- 
 pretation that had been put on his words, he re- 
 joined with some of the asperity of the man, 
 though rebuked by a consciousness of not having 
 done his own wishes justice — 
 
 “ You are too old and too sensible a person, 
 Pathfinder,” he said, “ to fetch a man up with a 
 surge, when he is paying out his ideas in distress, 
 as it might be. Sergeant Dunham is both my 
 brother-in-law and my friend — that is to say, as 
 intimate a friend as a soldier well can be with a 
 seafaring man, and I respect and honor him ac- 
 cordingly. I make no doubt, moreover, that he 
 has lived such a life as becomes a man, and there 
 can be no great harm, after all, in wishing any 
 one well berthed in heaven. Well! we are mor- 
 tal the best of us, that you’ll not deny ; and it 
 ought to be a lesson not to feel pride in our 
 strength and beauty. Where is the quarter- 
 master, Pathfinder ? It is proper he should come 
 and have a parting word with the poor sergeant, 
 who is only going a little before us.” 
 
 “ You have spoken more truth, Master Cap, 
 than you’ve been knowing to, all this time ; in 
 which there is no great wonder, howsoever ; man- 
 kind as often telling biting truths when they 
 least mean it, as at any other time. You might 
 have gone further, notwithstanding, and said 
 that we arc mortal, the worst of us, which is quite 
 aa true, and a good deal more wholesome than 
 
 saying that we are mortal, the best of us. A3 
 for the quartermaster’s coming to speak a part- 
 ing word to the sergeant, it is quite out of the 
 question, seeing that he has gone ahead, and that 
 too with little parting notice to himself, or to any 
 one else.” 
 
 “You are not quite as clear as common in 
 your language, Pathfinder. I know that we 
 ought all to have solemn thoughts on these oc- 
 casions, but I see no use in speaking in parables.” 
 
 “ If my words are not plain, the idee is. In 
 short, Master Cap, while Sargeant Dunham has 
 been preparing himself for a long journey, like a 
 conscientious and honest man, as he is, deliber- 
 ately and slowly, the quartermaster has started, 
 in a hurry, before him ; and, although it is a mat- 
 ter on which it does not become me to be 
 very positive, I give it as my opinion that they 
 travel such different roads that they will never 
 meet.” 
 
 “Explain yourself, my friend,” said the be- 
 wildered seaman, looking around him in search 
 of Muir, whose absence began to excite his dis- 
 trust. “ I see nothing of the quartermaster, but 
 I think him too much of a man to run away, now 
 that the victory is gained. If the fight were 
 ahead, instead of in our wake, the case would be 
 altered.” 
 
 “ There lies all that is left of him, beneath 
 that great-coat,” returned the guide, who then 
 briefly related the manner of the lieutenant’s 
 death. “ The Tuscarora was as venomous in his 
 blow as a rattler, though he failed to give the 
 warning,” continued Pathfinder. “I’ve seen 
 many a desperate fight, and several of these sud- 
 den outbreaks of savage temper ; but never, be- 
 fore, did I see a human soul quit the body more 
 unexpectedly, or at a worse moment for the hopes 
 of the dying man. His breath was stopped with 
 the lie on his lips, and the spirit might be said to 
 have passed away in the very ardor of wicked- 
 ness.” 
 
 Cap listened with a gaping mouth, and he gave 
 two or three violent hems, as the other concluded, 
 like one who distrusted his own respiration. 
 
 “ This is an uncertain and uncomfortable life 
 of yours, Master Pathfinder, what between the 
 fresh water and the savages,” he said, “ and the 
 sooner I get quit of it, the higher will be my opin- 
 ion of myself. Now you mention it, I will say 
 that the man ran for that berth in the rocks, when 
 the enemy first bore down upon us, with a sor* 
 of instinct that I thought surprising in an officer 
 but I was in too great a hurry to follow, to log 
 the whole matter accurately. God bless me— 
 God bless me ! a traitor do you 6ay and ready to 
 
THE GUIDE’S INTERVIEW. 
 
 101 
 
 sell bis country, and to a bloody Frenchman, 
 too?” 
 
 “ To sell any thing — country, soul, body, Ma- 
 bel, and all our scalps ; and no ways particular, 
 I’ll engage, as to the purchaser. The countrymen 
 of Captain Flinty-heart, here, were the paymas- 
 ters this timeu” 
 
 “ J ust like ’em ; ever ready to buy when they 
 can’t thrash, and to run when they can’t do nei- 
 ther.” 
 
 Monsieur Sanglier lifted his cap with ironical 
 gravity, and acknowledged the compliment with 
 an expression of polite contempt that was alto- 
 gether lost on its insensible subject. But Path- 
 finder had too much native courtesy, and was far 
 too just-minded, to allow the attack to go unno- 
 ticed. 
 
 “ Well — well,” he interposed — “ to my mind 
 there is no great difference atween an Englishman 
 and a Frenchman, a’ter all. They talk different 
 tongues, and live under different kings, I will al- 
 low ; but both are human, and feel like human 
 beings, when there is occasion for it. If a French- 
 man is sometimes skeary, so is an Englishman ; 
 and as for running away, why a man will now and 
 then do it, as well as a horse, let him come of 
 what people he may.” 
 
 Captain Flinty-heart, as Pathfinder called him, 
 made another obeisance ; but this time the smile 
 was friendly, and not ironical, for he felt that the 
 intention was good, whatever might have been 
 the mode of expressing it. Too philosophical, 
 however, to heed what a man like Cap might say 
 or think, he finished his breakfast without allow- 
 ing his attention to be again diverted from that 
 important pursuit. 
 
 “ My business here was principally with the 
 quartermaster,” Cap continued, as soon as he had 
 done regarding the Frenchman’s pantomime. 
 “The sergeant must be near his end ; and I have 
 thought he might wish to say something to his 
 successor in authority, before he finally departed. 
 It is too late, it would seem ; and, as you say, 
 Pathfinder, the lieutenant has truly gone before.” 
 
 “ That he has, though on a different path. As 
 for authority, I suppose the corporal has now a 
 right to command what’s left of the 65th, though 
 a small and worried, not to say frightened, party 
 it is. But, if anything needs to be done, the 
 chances are greatly in favor of my being called 
 on to do it. I suppose, however, we have only 
 to bury our dead and set fire to the block and the 
 huts, for they stand in the inimy’s territory, by 
 position, if not by law, and must not be left for 
 their convenience. Our using them again is out 
 of the question; for now the Frenchers know 
 
 where the island is to be found, it would be like 
 thrusting the hand into a wolf-trap, with our eyes 
 wide open. This part of the work, the Sarpent 
 and I will see to ; for we are practised in retreats 
 as in advances.” 
 
 “ All that is very well, my good friend ; and 
 now for my poor brother-in-law ; though he is a 
 soldier, we cannot let him slip without a word of 
 consolation, and a leave-taking, in my judgment. 
 This has been an unlucky affair, on every tack • 
 though I suppose it is what one had a right to 
 expect, considering the state of the times, and 
 the nature of the navigation. We must make the 
 best of it, and try to help the worthy man to un- 
 moor, without straining his messengers. Death 
 is a circumstance, after all, Master Pathfinder, 
 and one of a very general character, too, seeing 
 that we must all submit to it, sooner or later.” 
 
 “You say truth, you say truth ; and for that 
 reason I hold it to be wise to be always ready. 
 I’ve often thought, Saltwater, that he is happiest 
 who has the least to leave behind him, when the 
 summons comes. Now, here am I, a hunter and 
 a scout, and a guide, although I do not own a 
 foot of land on ’arth, yet do I enjoy and possess 
 more than the great Albany Patroon. With the 
 heavens over my head to keep me in mind of the 
 last great hunt, and the dried leaves beneath my 
 feet, I tramp over the ground as freely as if I 
 was its lord and owner; and what more need 
 heart desire ? I do not say that I love nothing 
 that belongs to ’arth ; for I do, though not much, 
 unless it might be Mabel Dunham, that I can’t car- 
 ry with me. I have some pups at the higher fort, 
 that I valy considerable, though they are too noisy 
 for warfare, and so we are compelled to live sepa- 
 rate for a while ; and then, I think, it would grieve 
 me to part with Killdeer ; but I see no reason 
 why we should not be buried in the same grave, 
 for we are, as near as can be, of the same length 
 — six feet, to a hair’s breadth ; but, bating these, 
 and a pipe that the Sarpent gave me, and a few 
 tokens received from travellers, all of which might 
 be put in a pouch, and laid under my head, when 
 the order comes to march, I shall be ready at a 
 minute’s warning ; and, let me tell you, Master 
 Cap, that’s what I call a circumstance, too ! ” 
 
 “ ’Tis just so with me,” answered the sailor, 
 as the two walked toward the block, too much 
 occupied with their respective morality, to re- 
 member, at the moment, the melancholy errand 
 they were on — “ that’s just my way of feeling 
 and reasoning. How often have I felt, when near 
 shipwreck, the relief of not owning the craft! 
 
 ‘ If she goes,’ I have said to myself, ‘ why my life 
 goes with her, but not my property, and there’s 
 
192 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 great comfort in that.’ I’ve discovered in the 
 course of boxing about the world, from the Horn 
 to Cape North, not to speak of this run on a bit 
 of fresh-water, that if a man has a few dollars, 
 and puts them in a chest under lock and key, he 
 is pretty certain to fasten up his heart in the 
 same till ; and so I carry pretty much all I own 
 in a belt round my body, in order, as I say, to 
 keep the vitals in the right place. D e, Path- 
 
 finder, if I think a man without a heart any bet- 
 ter than a fish with a hole in his air-bag.” 
 
 “ I don’t know how that may be, Master Cap, 
 but a man without a conscience is but a poor 
 creatur’, take my word for it, as any one will dis- 
 cover who has to do with a Mingo. I trouble 
 myself little with dollars or half-joes, for these 
 are the favoryte coin in this part of the world ; 
 but I can easily believe, by what I’ve seen of man- 
 kind, that if a man has a chest filled with either, 
 he may be said to lock up his heart in the same 
 box. I once hunted for two summers during the 
 last peace, and I collected so much peltry that I 
 found my right feelings giving way to a craving 
 after property ; and if I have consarn in marry- 
 ing Mabel, it is that I may get to love such things 
 too well, in order to make her comfortable.” 
 
 “ You’re a philosopher, that’s clear, Path- 
 finder ; and I don’t know but you’re a Chris- 
 tian ! ” 
 
 “ I should be out of humor with the man that 
 gainsayed the last, Master Cap. I have not been 
 Christianized by the Moravians, like so many of 
 the Delawares, it is true ; but I hold to Christian- 
 ity and white gifts. With me it is as oncreditable 
 for a white man not to be a Christian, as it is for 
 a red-skin not to believe in bis happy hunting- 
 grounds ; indeed, after allowing for difference in 
 traditions, and some variations about the manner 
 in which the spirit will be occupied after death, 
 I hold that a good Delaware is a good Christian, 
 though he never saw a Moravian ; and a good 
 Christian, a good Delaware, so far as Natur’ is 
 consarned. The Sarpent and I talk these mat- 
 ters over often, for he has a hankerin’ after Chris- 
 tianity — ” 
 
 “ The d — -1 he has ! ” interrupted Cap. “ And 
 what does he intend to do in a church with all 
 the scalps he takes ? ” 
 
 “Don’t run away with a false idee, friend 
 Cap ; don’t run away with a false idee. These 
 things are only skin-deep, and all depend on edi- 
 cation and nat’ral gifts. Look around you at 
 mankind, and tell me why you see a red warrior 
 here, a black one there, and white armies in an- 
 other place ? All this, and a great deal more of 
 the same kind that I could point out, has been 
 
 ordered for some ’special purpose ; and it is not 
 for us to fly in the face of facts and deny their 
 truth. No — no — each color has its gifts, and its 
 laws, and its traditions ; and one is not to con- 
 demn another because he does not exactly com- 
 prehend it.” 
 
 “ You must have read a great deal, Pathfind- 
 er, to see things as clear as this,” returned Cap, 
 who was not a little mystified by his companion’s 
 simple creed — “ It’s all as plain as day to me now, 
 though I must say I never fell in with these 
 opinions before. What denomination do you be- 
 long to, my friend ? ” 
 
 “Anan?” 
 
 “ What sect do you hold out for ? — What par. 
 ticular church do you fetch up in ? ” 
 
 “Look about you, and judge for yourself. 
 I’m in church now ; I eat in church, drink in 
 church, sleep in church. The ’arth is the temple 
 of the Lord, and I wait on Him hourly, daily, 
 without ceasing, I humbly hope. No — no — I’ll 
 not deny my blood and color, but am Christian 
 born, and shall die in the same faith. The Mo- 
 ravians tried me hard ; and one of the king’s 
 chaplains has had his say, too, though that’s a 
 class no ways strenuous on such matters ; and 
 a missionary sent from Rome talked much with 
 me as I guided him through the forest during the 
 last peace ; but I’ve had one answer for them all 
 — I’m a Christian already, and want to be neither 
 Moravian, nor Churchman, nor Papist. No — no 
 — I’ll not deny my birth and blood.” 
 
 “ I think a word from you might lighten the 
 sergeant over the shoals of death, Master Path- 
 finder. He has no one with him but poor Mabel, 
 and she, you know, besides being his daughter, 
 is but a girl and a child, after all.” 
 
 “ Mabel is feeble in body, friend Cap, but, in 
 matters of this natur’, I doubt if she may not be 
 stronger than most men. But Sargeant Dunham 
 is my friend, and he is your brother-in-law . so 
 now the press of fighting and maintaining our 
 rights is over, it is fitting we should both go and 
 witness his departure. I’ve stood by many a dy- 
 ing man, Master Cap,” continued Pathfinder, who 
 had a besetting propensity to enlarge on his ex 
 perience, stopping and holding his companion by 
 a button— “ I’ve stood by many a dying man’s 
 side, and seen his last gasp, and heard his last 
 breath ; for when the hurry and tumult of the 
 battle is over, it is good to bethink us of the mis- 
 fortunate, and it is remarkable to witness how 
 differently human natur’ feels at such solemn mo- 
 ments. Some go their way as stupid and ignorant 
 as if God had never given them reason, and an 
 accountable state ; while others quit us rejoicing, 
 
SELF-EXAMINATION. 
 
 193 
 
 like men who leave heavy burdens behind them. 
 I think that the mind sees clearly at such mo- 
 ments, my friend, and that past deeds stand thick 
 before the recollection.” 
 
 “I’ll engage they do, Pathfinder. I have 
 witnessed something of this myself, and hope I’m 
 the better man for it. I remember once that I 
 thought my own time had come, and the log was 
 overhauled with a diligence I did not think my- 
 self capable of until that moment. I’ve not been 
 a very great sinner, friend Pathfinder ; that is to 
 say, never on a large scale ; though, I dare say, 
 if the truth were spoken, a considerable amount 
 of small matters might be raked up against me, 
 as well as against another man ; but then I’ve 
 never committed piracy, nor high-treason, nor 
 arson, nor any of them sort of things. As to 
 smuggling, and the like of that, why, I’m a sea- 
 faring man, and I suppose all callings have their 
 weak spots. I dare say your trade is not alto- 
 gether without blemish, honorable and useful as 
 it seems to be ? ” 
 
 “ Many of the scouts and guides are desperate 
 knaves ; and, like the quartermaster here, some 
 of them take pay of both sides. I hope I’m not 
 one of them, though all occupations lead to temp- 
 tations. Thrice have I been sorely tried in my life, 
 and once yielded a little, though I hope it was 
 not in a matter to disturb a man’s conscience in 
 his last moments. The first time was when I 
 found in the woods a pack of skins that I knowed 
 belonged to a Frencher, who was hunting on our 
 side of the lines, where he had no business to be ; 
 twenty-six as handsome beavers as ever gladdened 
 human eyes ! Well, that was a sore temptation, 
 for I thought the law would have been almost 
 with me, although it was in peace-times. But 
 then I remembered that such laws wasn’t made 
 for us hunters, and bethought me that the poor 
 man might have built great expectations for the 
 next winter, on the sale of his skins ; and I left 
 them where they lay. Most of our people said I 
 did wrong ; but the manner in which I slept that 
 night convinced me that I had done right. The 
 next trial was when I found the rifle, that is sar- 
 tainly the only one in this part of the world that 
 can be calculated on as surely as Killdeer, and 
 knowed that by taking it, or even hiding it, I 
 might at once rise to be the first shot in all these 
 parts. I was then young, and by no means as 
 expart as I have since got to be, and youth is 
 ambitious and striving ; but, God be praised ! I 
 mastered that feeling ; and, friend Cap, what is 
 almost as good, 1 mastered my rival in as fair a 
 «hooting-match as was ever witnessed in a garri- 
 lon ; he with his piece, and I with Killdeer, and 
 
 Qft 1 i 
 
 before the general in person, too ! ” Here Pathfind- 
 er stopped to laugh, his triumph still glittering in 
 his eyes, and glowing on his sunburned and 
 browned cheek. “ Well, the next conflict with 
 the devil was the hardest of them all, and that 
 was when I came suddenly upon a camp of six 
 Mingoes, asleep in the woods, with their guns 
 and horns piled in a way that enabled me to get 
 possession of them without waking a miscreant 
 of them all. What an opportunity that would 
 have been for the Sarpent, who would have de- 
 spatched them, one after another, wi?h his knife, 
 and had their six scalps at his girdle in about the 
 time it takes me to tell you the story. Oh ! he’s 
 a valiant warrior, that Chingachgook, and as hon- 
 est as he’s brave, and as good as he’s honest ! ” 
 
 “ And what may you have done in this matter, 
 Master Pathfinder ? ” demanded Cap, who began 
 to be interested in the result — “ it seems to me 
 you had made either a very lucky or a very un- 
 lucky landfall.” 
 
 “ ’Twas lucky, and ’twas unlucky, if you can 
 understand that. ’Twas unlucky, for it proved a 
 desperate trial ; and yet ’twas lucky, all things 
 considered, in the ind. I did not touch a hair of 
 their heads, for a white man has no nat’ral gifts 
 to take scalps ; nor did I even make sure of one 
 of their rifles. I distrusted myself, knowing that 
 a Mingo is no favorite in my own eyes.” 
 
 “ As for the scalps, I think you were right 
 enough, my worthy friend ; but as for the arma- 
 ment and the stores, they would have been con- 
 demned by any prize-court in Christendom ! ” 
 
 “ That they would — that they would ; but then 
 the Mingoes would have gone clear, seeing that a 
 white man can no more attack an unarmed, than 
 a sleeping inimy. No — no— I did myself, and my 
 color, and my religion, too, greater justice. I 
 waited till their nap was over, and they well on 
 their war-path again; and by ambushing them 
 here, and flanking them there, I peppered the 
 blackguards intrinsically, like ” — Pathfinder occa- 
 sionally caught a fine word from his associates, 
 and used it a little vaguely — “ that only one ever 
 got back to his village; and he came into his 
 wigwam, limping. Luckily, as it turned out, the 
 great Delaware had only halted to jerk some 
 venison, and was following on my trail ; and when 
 he got up, he had five of the scoundrel’s scalps 
 hanging where they ought to be ; so you see noth- 
 ing was lost by doing right, either in the way of 
 honor or in that of profit.” 
 
 Cap grunted an assent, though the distinctions 
 in his companion’s morality, it must be owned, 
 were not exactly clear to his understanding. Tha 
 two had occasionally moved toward the block as 
 
194 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 they conversed, and then stopped again, as some 
 matter of more interest than common brought 
 them to a halt. They were now so near the 
 building, however, that neither thought of pur- 
 suing the subject any farther ; but each prepared 
 himself for the final scene with Sergeant Dunham. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 “Thou barraine ground, whom winter’s wrath hath wasted, 
 Art mad! a mirror to behold my plight ; 
 
 Whil’ome thy fresh spring flower’d ; and alter hasted 
 Thy summer proude, with daffodillies dight ; 
 
 And now is come thy winter’s stormy state, 
 
 Thy mantle mar’d wherein thou maskedst late.” 
 
 Spenseb. 
 
 Although the soldier may regard danger, and 
 even death, with indifference, in the tumult of 
 battle, when the passage of the soul is delayed to 
 moments of tranquillity and reflection, the change 
 commonly brings with it the usual train of solemn 
 reflections ; of regrets for the past ; and of doubts 
 and anticipations for the future. Many a man 
 ha3 died with an heroic expression on his lips, 
 but with heaviness and distrust at his heart ; for, 
 whatever may be the varieties of our religious 
 cree( i s — let us depend on the mediation of Christ, 
 the dogmas of Mahomet, or the elaborated alle- 
 gories of the East — there is a conviction, com- 
 mon to all men, that death is but the stepping- 
 stone between this and a more elevated state of 
 being. Sergeant Dunham was a brave man ; but 
 he was departing for a country in which resolu- 
 tion could avail him nothing; and, as he felt 
 himself gradually loosened from the grasp of the 
 world, his thoughts and feelings took the natural 
 direction ; for, if it be true that death is the great 
 leveller, in nothing is it more true than that it re- 
 duces all to the same views of the vanity of life. 
 
 Pathfinder, though a man of quaint and pe- 
 culiar habits and opinions, was always thoughtful, 
 and disposed to view the things around him with 
 a shade of philosophy, as well as with serious- 
 ness. In him, therefore, the scene in the block- 
 house awakened no very novel feelings ; but the 
 case was different with Cap. Rude, opinionated, 
 dogmatical, and boisterous, the old sailor was 
 little accustomed to view even death with any ap- 
 proach to the gravity that its importance de- 
 mands ; and, notwithstanding all that had passed, 
 and his real regard for his brother-in-law, he now 
 entered the room of the dying man with much of 
 that callous unconcern which was the fruit of long 
 training in a school, that, while it gives so many 
 lessons in the sublimest truths, generally wastes 
 
 its admonitions on scholars who are little dis- 
 posed to profit by them. 
 
 The first proof that Cap gave of his not enter- 
 ing as fully as those around him into the solem- 
 nity of the moment, was by commencing a narra- 
 tion of the events which had just led to the 
 deaths of Muir and Arrowhead. “ Both tripped 
 their anchors in a hurry, brother Dunham,” he 
 concluded ; “ and you have the consolation of 
 knowing that others have gone before you in the 
 great journey, and they, too, men whom you’ve 
 no particular reason to love ; which to me, were I 
 placed in your situation, would be a source of 
 very great satisfaction. My mother always said, 
 Master Pathfinder, that dying people’s spirits 
 should not be damped, but that they ought to be 
 encouraged by all proper and prudent means.; 
 and this news will give the poor fellow a great 
 lift, if he feels toward them savages auy way as I 
 feel myself.” 
 
 June arose at this intelligence, and stole from 
 the block-house with a noiseless step. Dunham 
 listened with a vacant stare, for life had already 
 lost so many of its ties that he had really forgot- 
 ten Arrowhead, and cared nothing for Muir ; but 
 he inquired in a feeble voice for Eau-douce. The 
 young man was immediately summoned, and soon 
 made his appearance. The sergeant gazed at him 
 kindly, and the expression of his eyes was that of 
 regret for the injury he had done him in thought. 
 The party in the block-house now consisted of Path- 
 finder, Cap, Mabel, Jasper, and the dying man. 
 With the exception of the daughter, all stood 
 around the sergeant’s pallet in attendance on his 
 last moments. Mabel kneeled at his side, now 
 pressing a clammy hand to her head, now apply- 
 ing moisture to the parched lips of her father. 
 
 “ Your case will shortly be ourn, sargeant,” 
 said Pathfinder, who could hardly be said to be 
 awe-struck by the scene, for he had witnessed the 
 approach and victories of death too often for 
 that ; but who felt the full difference between his 
 triumphs in the excitement of battle and in the 
 quiet of the domestic circle ; “ and I make no 
 question we shall meet ag’in hereafter. Arrow- 
 head has gone his way, ’tis true ; but it can never 
 be the way of a just Indian. You’ve seen the last 
 of him : for his path cannot be the path of the 
 just. Reason is ag’in the thought, in his case, 
 as it is also in my judgment ag’in it, too, in the 
 case of Lieutenant Muir. You have done your 
 duty in life ; and, when a man does that, he may 
 start on the longest journey with a light heart 
 and an actyve foot.” 
 
 “ I hope so, my friend — I’ve tried to do my 
 [ duty.” 
 
MABEL AT HER FATHER’S DEATH BED. 
 
 “ Ay — ay — ” put in Cap, “ intention is half 
 Ih^ battle ; and though you would have done bet- 
 ter had you hove-to in the offing and sent a craft 
 into feel how the land lay; things might have 
 turned out differently ; no one here doubts that 
 you meant all for the best, and no one anywhere 
 else I should think, from what I’ve seen of this 
 world and read of t’other.” 
 
 “ I did — yes — I meant all for the best.” 
 
 “ Father ! — oh ! my beloved father ! ” 
 
 “ Magnet is taken aback by this blow, Master 
 Pathfinder, and can say or do but little to car- 
 ry her father over the shoals ; so we must try 
 all the harder to serve him a friendly turn our- 
 selves.” 
 
 “ Did you speak, Mabel ? ” Dunham asked, 
 turning his eyes in the direction of his daughter, 
 for he was already too feeble to turn his body. 
 
 “ Yes, father ; rely on nothing you have done 
 yourself, for mercy and salvation ; trust altogether 
 in the blessed mediation of the Son of God ! ” 
 
 “ The chaplain has told us something like this, 
 brother — the dear child may be right.” 
 
 “Ay — ay — that’s doctrine out of question. 
 He will be our judge, and keeps the log-book of 
 our acts, and will foot them all up at the last day, 
 and then say who has done well and who has done 
 ill. I do believe Mabel is right, but then you 
 need not be concerned, as no doubt the account 
 has been fairly kept.” 
 
 “ Uncle ! — dearest father ! — This is a vain illu- 
 sion — oh ! place all your trust in the mediation 
 of our holy Redeemer ! Have you not often felt 
 your own insufficiency to effect your own wishes 
 in the commonest things, and how can you im- 
 agine yourself, by your own acts, equal to raise 
 up a frail and sinful nature sufficiently to be re- 
 ceived into the presence of perfect purity ? There 
 is no hope for any, but in the mediation of 
 Christ ! ” 
 
 “ This is what the Moravians used to tell us,” 
 said Pathfinder to Cap in a low voice ; “ Mabel is 
 
 right.” 
 
 “ Right enough, friend Pathfinder, in the dis- 
 tances, but wrong in the course. I’m afraid the 
 child will get the sergeant adrift, at the very mo- 
 ment when we had him in the best of the water, 
 and in the plainest part of the channel.” 
 
 “ Leave it to Mabel— leave it to Mabel— she 
 knows better than any of us, and can do no 
 harm.” 
 
 “I have heard this before” — Dunham at 
 length replied— “Ah ! Mabel; it is strange for 
 the parent to lean on the child at a moment like 
 
 this.” 
 
 “ Put your trust in God, father— lean on his 
 
 195 
 
 holy and compassionate Son. Pray, dearest, dear- 
 est father — pray for his omnipotent support.” 
 
 “ I am not used to prayer — brother — Path- 
 finder — J asper — can you help me to words ? ” 
 
 Cap scarce knew what prayer meant, and he had 
 no answer to give. Pathfinder prayed often, daily 
 if not hourly — but it was mentally, in his own 
 simple modes of thinking, and without the aid of 
 words at all. In this strait, therefore, he was as 
 useless as the mariner, and had no reply to make. 
 As for Jasper Eau-douce, though he would gladly 
 have endeavored to move a mountain to relieve 
 Mabel, this was asking assistance it exceeded his 
 power to give ; and he shrank back with the 
 shame that is only too apt to overcome the young 
 and vigorous, when called on to perform an act 
 that tacitly confesses their real weakness an(l de- 
 pendence on a superior power. 
 
 “ Father ” — said Mabel, wiping her eyes, and 
 endeavoring to compose features that were pallid, 
 and actually quivering with emotion — “ /will pray 
 with you— /or you— for myself, \ for us all. The 
 petition of the feeblest and humblest is never un- 
 heeded.” 
 
 There was something sublime, as well as 
 much that was supremely touching, in this act of 
 filial piety. The quiet, but earnest manner in 
 which this young creature prepared herself to 
 perform the duty ; the self-abandonment with 
 which she forgot her sex’s timidity and sex’s 
 shame, in order to sustain her parent at that try- 
 ing moment ; the loftiness of purpose with which 
 she directed all her powers to the immense ob- 
 ject before her, with a woman’s devotion, and a 
 woman’s superiority to trifles, when her affec- 
 tions make the appeal ; and the holy calm into 
 which her grief was compressed, rendered her, for 
 the moment, an object of somethimg very like 
 awe and veneration to her companions. 
 
 Mabel had been religiously and reasonably 
 educated ; equally without exaggeration and 
 without self-sufficiency. Her reliance on God 
 was cheerful and full of hope, while it was of the 
 humblest and most dependent nature. She had 
 been accustomed from childhood to address her- 
 self to the Deity, in prayer; taking example from 
 the divine mandate of Christ himself, who com- 
 manded his followers to abstain from vain repe- 
 titions, and who has left behind him a petition 
 that is unequalled for sublimity and sententious- 
 ness, as if expressly to rebuke the disposition of 
 man to set up his own loose and random thoughts 
 as the most acceptable sacrifice. The sect in 
 which she had been reared, has furnished to its 
 followers some of the most beautiful composi- 
 tions of the language, as a suitable vehicle for its 
 
196 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 devotion and solicitations. Accustomed to this 
 mode of public and even private prayer, the mind 
 of our heroine had naturally fallen into its tram 
 of lofty thought ; her taste had become improved 
 by its study, and her language elevated and en- 
 riched by its phrases. In short, Mabel, in this 
 respect, -was an instance of the influence and fa- 
 miliarity with propriety of thought, fitness of lan- 
 guage, and decorum of manner, on the habits and 
 expressions of even those who might be supposed 
 not to be always so susceptible of receiving high 
 impressions of this nature. When she kneeled 
 at the bedside of her father, the very reverence 
 of her attitude and manner prepared the specta- 
 tors for what was to come ; and as her affection- 
 ate heart prompted her tongue, and memory came 
 in aid of both, the petition and praises that she 
 offered up were of a character that might have 
 worthily led the spirits of angels. Although the 
 words were not slavishly borrowed, the expres- 
 sions partook of the simple dignity of the liturgy 
 to which she had been accustomed, and were 
 probably as worthy of the being to whom they 
 were addressed as they could well be made by hu- 
 man powers. They produced their full impres- 
 sion on the hearers ; for it is worthy of remark 
 that, notwithstanding the pernicious effects of a 
 false taste when long submitted to, real sublimity 
 and beauty are so closely allied to Nature, that 
 they generally find an echo in every heart. 
 
 But when our heroine came to touch upon 
 the situation of the dying man, she became the 
 most truly persuasive, for then she was the most 
 truly zealous and natural. The beauty of the 
 language was preserved, but it was sustained by 
 the° simple power of love; and her words were 
 warmed by a holy zeal, that approached to the 
 grandeur of true eloquence. We might record 
 some of her expressions, but doubt the propriety 
 of subjecting such sacred themes to a too familiar 
 analysis, and refrain. • 
 
 The effect of this singular but solemn scene 
 was different on the different individuals present. 
 Dunham himself was soon lost in the subject of 
 the prayer ; and he felt some such relief, as one 
 who finds himself staggering on the edge of a 
 precipice under a burden difficult to be borne, 
 might be supposed to experience, when he unex- 
 pectedly feels the weight removed, in order to be 
 placed on the shoulders of another better able to 
 sustain it. Cap was surprised, as well as awed; 
 though the effects on his mind were not very deep 
 ot very lasting. He wondered a little at his own 
 sensations, and had his doubts whether they were 
 as manly and heroic as they ought to be ; but he 
 was far too sensible of the influence of truth, hu- 
 
 mility, religious submission, and human depend- 
 ency, to think of interposing with any of his crude 
 objections. Jasper knelt opposite to Mabel, cov- 
 ered his face, and followed her words, with an 
 earnest wish to aid her prayers with his own; 
 though it may be questioned if his thoughts did 
 not dwell quite as much on the soft, gentle ac- 
 cents of the petitioner, as on the subject of her 
 petition. 
 
 The effect on Pathfinder was striking and visi- 
 ble ; visible, because he stood erect, also opposite 
 to Mabel ; and the workings of his countenance, 
 as usual, betrayed the workings of the spirit with- 
 in. He leaned on his rifle, and, at moments, the 
 sinewy fingers grasped the barrel with a force 
 that seemed to compress the weapon ; while once 
 or twice, as Mabel’s language rose in intimate 
 association with her thoughts, he lifted his eyes 
 to the floor above him, as if he expected to find 
 some visible evidence of the presence of the dread 
 Being to whom the words were addressed. Then 
 again his feelings reverted to the fair creature 
 who was thus pouring out her spirit, in fervent, 
 but calm petitions, in behalf of a dying parent ; 
 for Mabel’s cheek was no longer pallid, but was 
 flushed with a holy enthusiasm, while her blue 
 eyes were upturned in the light, in a way to re- 
 semble a picture by Guido. At these moments 
 all the honest and manly attachment of Path- 
 finder glowed in ingenuous features, and his gaze 
 at our heroine was such as the fondest parent 
 might fasten on the child of his love. 
 
 Sergeant Dunham laid his hand feebly on the 
 head of Mabel as she ceased praying, and buried 
 her face in his blanket. 
 
 “ Bless you— my beloved child— bless you—” 
 he rather whispered than uttered aloud— “ this is 
 truly consolation — would that I too could pray ! 
 
 « Father, you know the Lord’s prayer— you 
 taught it to me yourself, while I was yet an in- 
 fant.” 
 
 The sergeant’s face gleamed with a smile ; for 
 he did remember to have discharged that portion, 
 at least, of the paternal duty ; and the conscious- 
 ness of it gave him inconceivable gratification at 
 that solemn moment. He was then silent for sev- 
 eral minutes, and all present believed that he was 
 communing with God. 
 
 “ Mabel— my child—” he at length uttered, in 
 a voice that seemed to be reviving— “ Mabel— 
 I’m quitting you”— the spirit, at its great and 
 final passage, appears to consider the body as 
 nothing— “ I’m quitting you, my child— where if 
 
 your hand ? ” , . . 
 
 ‘‘Here, dearest father— here are both— oh I 
 
 take both.” 
 
SERGEANT DUNHAM’S LAST WORDS. 
 
 197 
 
 “Pathfinder — ” added the sergeant, feeling 
 on the opposite side of the bed, where Jasper 
 still knelt, and getting one of the hands of the 
 young man, by mistake — “ take it — I leave you 
 as her father — as you and she may please — bless 
 yoo — bless you both — ■” 
 
 At that awful instant no one would rudely 
 apprise the sergeant of his mistake; and he died 
 a minute or two later, holding Jasper’s and Ma- 
 bel’s hands covered by both his own. Our her- 
 oine was ignorant of the fact, until an exclama- 
 tion of Cap’s announced the death of her father ; 
 when, raising her face, she saw the eyes of Jas- 
 per riveted on her own, and felt the warm press- 
 ure of his hand. But a single feeling was pre- 
 dominant at that instant ; and Mabel withdrew to 
 weep, scarcely conscious of what had occurred, 
 the Pathfinder took the arm of Eau-douce, and 
 he left the block. 
 
 The two friends walked in silence past the fire 
 along the glade, and nearly reached the opposite 
 shore of the island, in profound silence. Here 
 they stopped, and Pathfinder spoke. 
 
 “ ’Tis all over, Jasper,” he said ; “ ’tis all over. 
 Ah’s me ! Poor Sargeant Dunham has finished 
 his march, and that, too, by the hand of a venom- 
 ous Mingo. Well, we never know what is to 
 happen, and his luck may be your’n or mine, to- 
 morrow, or next day ! ” 
 
 “ And Mabel ? — What is to become of Mabel, 
 Pathfinder ? ” 
 
 “ You heard the sergeant’s dying words — he 
 has left his child in my care, Jasper; and it is a 
 most solemn trust, it is ; yes, it is a most solemn 
 trust ! ” 
 
 H It’s a trust, Pathfinder, of which any man 
 would be glad to relieve you,” returned the youth, 
 with a bitter smile. 
 
 “ I’ve often thought it has fallen into wrong 
 hands. I’m not consaited, Jasper ; I’m not con- 
 laited, I do think I’m not ; but if Mabel Dunham 
 Is willing to overlook all my imperfections and ig- 
 norances like, I should be wrong to gainsay it on 
 account of any sartainty I may have myself about 
 my own want of merit.” 
 
 “ No one will blame you, Pathfinder, for mar- 
 rying Mabel Dunham, any more than they will 
 blame you for wearing a precious jewel in your 
 bosom, that a friend had freely given you.” 
 
 “ Do you think they’ll blame Mabel, lad ? — 
 I’ve had my misgivings about that too ; for all 
 persons may not be as disposed to look at me 
 with the same eyes as you and the sargeant’s 
 daughter.” Jasper Eau-douce started, as a man 
 flinches at sudden bodily pain ; but he otherwise 
 maintained his self-command. — “And mankind is 
 
 envious and ill-natured, more particularly in and 
 about the garrisons. I sometimes wish, Jasper, 
 that Mabel could have taken a fancy to you, I do ; 
 and that you had taken a fancy to her ; for i(j 
 often seems to me that one like you, after all, 
 might make her happier than I ever can.” 
 
 “We will not talk about this, Pathfinder,” in- 
 terrupted Jasper, hoarsely and impatiently — “ you 
 will be Mabel’s husband, and it is not right to 
 speak of any one else in that character. As for 
 me, I shall take Master Cap’s advice, and try and 
 make a man of myself, by seeing what is to be 
 done on the salt-water.” 
 
 “ You, Jasper Western ! — you quit the lakes, 
 the forests, and the lines ; and this, too, for the 
 towns and wasty ways of the settlements, and a 
 little difference in the taste of the water ! Haven’t 
 we the salt-licks, if salt is necessary to you ? and 
 oughtn’t man to be satisfied with what contents 
 the other creatur’s of God ? I counted on you, 
 Jasper — I counted on you, I did — and thought, 
 now that Mabel and I intend to dwell in a cabin 
 of our own, that some day you might be tempted 
 to choose a companion too, and come and settle 
 in our neighborhood. There is a beautiful spot 
 about fifty miles west of the garrison that I had 
 chosen in my mind, for my own place of abode ; 
 and there is an excellent harbor about ten leagues 
 this side of it, where you could run in and out with 
 the cutter, at any leisure minute ; and I’d even 
 fancied you and your wife in possession of the one 
 place, and Mabel and I in possession of t’other. 
 We should be just a healthy hunt apart ; and if 
 the Lord ever intends any of his creatur’s to be 
 happy on ’arth, none could be happier than we 
 four.” 
 
 “You forget, my friend,” answered Jasper, 
 taking the guide’s hand and forcing a friendly 
 smile, “ that I have no fourth person to love and 
 cherish ; and I much doubt if I ever shall love 
 any other as I love you and Mabel.” 
 
 “ Thank’ee boy ; I thank you with all my heart 
 — but what you call love for Mabel is only friend- 
 ship like, and a very different thing from what I 
 feel. Now, instead of sleeping as sound as Na- 
 tur’ at midnight, as I used to could, I dream 
 nightly of Mabel Dunham. The young does sport 
 before me ; and when I raise Killdeer in order to 
 take a little venison, the animals look back, and 
 it seems as if they all had Mabel’s sweet coun- 
 tenance, laughing in my face, and looking as if 
 they said, 4 Shoot me, if you dare ! ’ Then I hear 
 her soft voice calling out among the birds as they 
 sing ; and, no later than the last nap I took, I be- 
 thought me in fancy of going over the Niagara, 
 holding Mabel in my arms rather than part frorr 
 
THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 198 
 
 her. The bitterest momenta I’ve ever known 
 were them in which the devil or some Mingo con- 
 juror, perhaps, has just put into my head to fan- 
 cy in dreams that Mabel is lost to me by some 
 unaccountable calamity— either by changefulness 
 or oy violence.” 
 
 « Oh ! Pathfinder, if you think this so bitter 
 in a dream, what must it be to one who feels its 
 reality, and knows it all to be true — true — true ! 
 So true, as to leave no hope ; to leave nothing 
 but despair ! ” 
 
 These words burst from Jasper as a fluid 
 pours from the vessel that has been suddenly 
 broken. They were uttered involuntarily, almost 
 unconsciously, but with a truth and feeling that 
 carried with them the instant conviction of their 
 deep sincerity. Pathfinder started, gazed at his 
 friend for quite a minute like one bewildered; 
 and then it was that in despite of all his sim- 
 plicity the truth gleamed upon him. All know 
 how corroborating proofs crowd upon the mind 
 as soon as it catches a direct clew to any hitherto 
 unsuspected fact ; how rapidly the thoughts flow, 
 and premises tend to their just conclusions, under 
 such circumstances. Our hero was so confiding 
 by nature, so just, and so much disposed to 
 imagine that all his friends wished him the same 
 happiness as he wished them, that, until this 
 unfortunate moment, a suspicion of Jasper’s 
 attachment for Mabel had never been awakened 
 in his bosom. He was, however, now too ex- 
 perienced in the emotions that characterized the 
 passion ; and the burst of feeling in his compan- 
 ion was too violent and too natural to leave any 
 further doubt on the subject. The feeling that 
 first followed this change of opinion was one of 
 deep humility and exquisite pain. He bethought 
 him of Jasper’s youth, his higher claims to per- 
 sonal appearance, and all the general probabilities 
 that such a suitor would be more agreeable to 
 Mabel than he could possibly be himself. Then 
 the noble rectitude of mind for which the man 
 was so distinguished asserted its power ; it was 
 sustained by his rebuked manner of thinking of 
 himself, and all that habitual deference for the 
 rights and feelings of others, which appeared 
 to be inbred in his very nature. Taking the arm 
 of Jasper ho led him to a log, where he compelled 
 the young man to seat himself, by a sort of irre- 
 sistible exercise of his iron muscles, and where 
 be placed himself at his side. 
 
 The instant his feelings had found vent, Eau- 
 douce was both alarmed at and ashamed of their 
 -iolence. He would have given all he possessed 
 on earth could the last three minutes be recalled, 
 out he was too frank by disposition, and too 
 
 much accustomed to deal ingenuously by his 
 friend, to think a moment of attempting further 
 concealment, or of any evasion of the expla- 
 nation that he knew was about to be demanded. 
 Even while he trembled in anticipation of what 
 was about to follow, he never contemplated 
 equivocation. 
 
 “ Jasper,” Pathfinder commenced, in a tone 
 so solemn as to thrill on every nerve in his lis- 
 tener’s body, “ this has surprised me ! You have 
 kinder feelings toward Mabel than I had thought ; 
 and, unless my own mistaken vanity and consait 
 have cruelly deceived me, I pity you, boy— from 
 my soul, I do ! Yes, I think I know how to pity 
 any one who has set his heart on a creature like 
 Mabel, unless he sees a prospect of her regards 
 ing him as he regards her. This matter must be 
 cleared up, Eau-douce, as the Delawares say, 
 until there shall not be a cloud atween us.” 
 
 “ What clearing up can it want, Pathfinder ? 
 
 I love Mabel Dunham, and Mabel Dunham does 
 not love me — she prefers you for a husband ; and 
 the wisest thing I can do, is to go off at once to 
 the salt-water and try to forget you both.” 
 
 “ Forget me, Jasper ! — that would be a punish- 
 ment I don’t desarve. But how do you know 
 that Mabel prefars me ?— how do you know it, 
 lad ? to me it seems impossible, like ! ” 
 
 “ Is she not to marry you, and would Mabel 
 marry a man she does not love ? ” 
 
 “ She has been hard urged by the sergeant, 
 she has ; and a dutiful child may have found it 
 difficult to withstand the wishes of a dying 
 parent. Have you ever told Mabel that you pre* 
 farred her, Jasper ; that you bore her these feel* 
 ings? •’ 
 
 “Never, Pathfinder; I would not do you 
 that wrong ! ” 
 
 “ I believe you, lad, I do believe you ; and I 
 think you would now go to the salt-water and 
 let the scent die with you. But this must not 
 be. Mabel shall hear all, and she shall have her 
 own way, if my heart breaks in the trial, she 
 shall. No words have ever passed atween you, 
 then, Jasper ? ” 
 
 “ Nothing of account — nothing direct. Still, 
 I will own all my foolishness, Pathfinder, for I 
 ought to own it to a generous friend like you, 
 and there will be an end of it. You know how 
 young people understand each other, or think 
 they understand each other, without always 
 speaking out in plain speech ; and get to know 
 each other’s thoughts, or to think they know 
 them, by means of a hundred little ways ? ” 
 
 “Not I, Jasper, not I,” truly answered th« 
 guide ; for, sooth to say, his advances had nev<* 
 
THE TWO RIVAL LOVERS. 
 
 199 
 
 been met with any of that sweet and precious 
 encouragement that silently marks the course 
 of sympathy united to passion. “ Not I, Jasper 
 — I know nothing of all this. Mabel has always 
 treated me fairly, and said what she has to say 
 in speech as plain as tongue could tell it.” 
 
 “You have had the pleasure of hearing her 
 say that she loved you, Pathfinder ? ” 
 
 “Why no, Jasper, not just that, in words. 
 She has told me that we never could — never 
 ought to be married ; that she was not good 
 enough for me; though she did say that she 
 honored me, and respected me. But then the 
 sargeant said it was always so with the youthful 
 and timid — that her mother did so, and said so, 
 afore her ; and that I ought to be satisfied if she 
 would consent, on any terms, to marry me : and, 
 therefore, I have concluded that all was right, 
 I have.” 
 
 In spite of all his friendship for the success- 
 ful wooer — in spite of all his honest, sincere 
 wishes for his happiness, we should be unfaithful 
 chroniclers, did we not own that Jasper felt his 
 heart bound with an uncontrollable feeling of 
 delight, at this admission. It was not that he saw 
 or felt any hope connected with the circumstance ; 
 but it was grateful to the jealous covetousness 
 of unlimited love, thus to learn that no other 
 ears had heard the sweet confessions that were 
 denied its own. 
 
 “Tell me more of this manner of talking 
 without the use of the tongue,” continued Path- 
 finder, whose countenance was getting to be 
 grave, and who now questioned his companion, 
 like one that seemed to anticipate evil in the 
 reply. “I can and have conversed with Chin- 
 gachgook, and with his son Uncas, too, in that 
 mode, afore the latter fell ; but I didn’t know that 
 young girls practysed this art ; and, least of all, 
 Mabel Dunham ! ” 
 
 “’Tis nothing, Pathfinder. I mean only a 
 look, or a smile, or a glance of the eye, or the 
 trembling of an arm, or a hand, when the young 
 woman has had occasion to touch me ; and 
 because I have been weak enough to tremble 
 even at Mabel’s breath, or her brushing me with 
 her clothes, my vain thoughts have misled me. 
 I never spoke plainly to Mabel, myself ; and now 
 there is no use for it, since there is clearly no 
 hope.” 
 
 “Jasper,” returned Pathfinder, simply, but 
 with a dignity that precluded further remarks at 
 the moment, “ we will talk of the sargeant’s fu- 
 neral, and of our own departure from this island. 
 After these things are disposed of, it will be time 
 enough to say more of the sargeant’s daughter. 
 
 This matter must be looked into ; for the father 
 left me the care of his child.” 
 
 Jasper was glad enough to change the sub- 
 ject, and the friends separated, each charged 
 with the duty most peculiar to his own station 
 and habits. 
 
 That afternoon all the dead were interred — 
 the grave of Sergeant Dunham being dug in the 
 centre of the glade, beneath the shade of the 
 huge elm. Mabel wept bitterly at the ceremony, 
 and she found relief in thus disburdening her 
 sorrow. The night passed tranquilly, as did the 
 whole of the following day ; Jasper declaring 
 that the gale was too severe to venture on the 
 lake. This circumstance detained Captain San- 
 glier, also ; who did not quit the island until the 
 morning of the third day after the death of Dun- 
 ham, when the weather had moderated, and the 
 wind had become fair. Then, indeed, he depart- 
 ed, after taking leave of the Pathfinder, in the 
 manner of one who believed he was in company 
 of a distinguished character for the last time. 
 The two separated like those w r ho respect one 
 another, while each felt that the other was an enig- 
 ma to himself. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 “ Playful she turned, that he might see 
 The passing smile her cheek put on ; 
 
 But when she marked how mournfully 
 His eyes met hers, that smile was gone.” 
 
 Lalla Rooxh. 
 
 The occurrences of the last few days had 
 been too exciting, and had made too many de- 
 mands on the fortitude of our heroine, to leave 
 her in the helplessness of grief. She mourned 
 for her father, and she occasionally shuddered, as 
 she recalled the sudden death of Jennie, and all 
 the horrible scenes she had witnessed ; but, on 
 the whole, she had aroused herself, and was no 
 longer in the deep depression that usually ac- 
 companies grief. Perhaps the overwhelming, 
 almost stupefying sorrow that crushed poor June, 
 and left her for nearly twenty-four hours in a state 
 of stupor, assisted Mabel in conquering her own 
 feelings, for she had felt called on to administer 
 consolation to the young Indian woman. This 
 she had done, in the quiet, soothing, insinuating 
 way in which her sex usually exerts its influence 
 on such occasions. 
 
 The morning of the third day was set for that 
 on which the Scud was to sail. Jasper had made 
 all his preparations; the different effects were 
 
200 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 embarked, and Mabel had taken leave of June — 
 a painful and affectionate parting. In a word, all 
 was ready, and every soul had left the island but 
 the Indian woman, Pathfinder, Jasper, and our 
 heroine. The former had gone into a thicket 
 to weep, and the three last were approaching the 
 spot where three canoes lay ; one of which was 
 the property of June, and the other two were in 
 waiting to carry the others off to the Scud. Path- 
 finder led the way, but, when he drew near the 
 shore, instead of taking the direction of the boats, 
 he motioned to his companions to follow, and 
 proceeded to a fallen tree that lay on the margin 
 of the glade, and out of view of those in the cut- 
 ter. Seating himself on the trunk, he signed to 
 Mabel to take her place on one side of him and 
 to Jasper to occupy the other. 
 
 “ Sit down here, Mabel ; sit down there, Eau- 
 douce,” he commenced, as soon as he had taken 
 his own seat ; “ I’ve something that lies heavy on 
 my mind, and now is the time to take it off, if it s 
 ever to be done. Sit down, Mabel, and let me 
 lighten my heart, if not my conscience, while I’ve 
 the strength to do it.” 
 
 The pause that succeeded lasted two or three 
 minutes, and both the young people wondered 
 what was to come next — the idea that Pathfinder 
 could have any weight on his conscience seeming 
 equally improbable to each. 
 
 « Mabel,” our hero at length resumed, “ we 
 must talk plainly to each other afore we join your 
 uncle in the cutter, where the Salt-water has slept 
 every night since the last rally ; for he says it s 
 the only place in which a man can be sure of 
 keeping the hair on his head, he does.— Ah’s me ! 
 what have I to do with these follies and sayings 
 now? I try to be pleasant and to feel light- 
 hearted, but the power of man can’t make water 
 run up stream. Mabel, you know that the sar- 
 geant, afore he left us, had settled it atween us 
 two, that we were to become man and wife, and 
 that we were to live together, and to l<?ve one an- 
 other as long as the Lord was pleased to keep us 
 both on ’arth ; yes, and afterwards, too ? ” 
 
 Mabel’s cheeks had regained a little of their 
 ancient bloom in the fresh air of the morning ; 
 but at this unlooked-for address they blanched 
 again, nearly to the pallid hue which grief had 
 imprinted there. Still she looked kindly, though 
 seriously, at Pathfinder, and even endeavored to 
 force a smile. 
 
 “Very true, my excellent friend” — she an- 
 swered — “ this was my poor father’s wish, and I 
 feel certain that a whole life devoted to your wel- 
 fare and comforts could scarcely repay you for 
 all you have done for us.” 
 
 “ I fear me, Mabel, that man and wife need* 
 be bound together by a stronger tie than such 
 feelings, I do. You have done nothing for me, or 
 nothing of any account, and yet my very heart 
 yearns toward you, it does ; and therefore it seems 
 likely that these feelings come from something 
 besides saving scalps and guiding through woods.” 
 
 Mabel’s cheek had begun to glow again ; and, 
 though she struggled hard to smile, her voice 
 trembled a little as she answered : 
 
 “ Had we not better postpone this conversa- 
 tion, Pathfinder ? ” she said ; “ we are not alone ; 
 and nothing is so unpleasant to a listener, they 
 say, as family matters in which he feels no inter- 
 est.” 
 
 “ It’s because we are not alone, Mabel, or 
 rather because Jasper is with us, that I wish to 
 talk of this matter. The sargeant believed I 
 might make a suitable companion for you, and, 
 though I had misgivings about it — yes, I had 
 many misgivings — he finally persuaded me into 
 the idee, and things came round between us, as 
 you know. But when you promised your father 
 to marry me, Mabel, and gave me your hand so 
 modestly, but so prettily, there was one circum- 
 stance, as your uncle called it, that you didn’t 
 know ; and I’ve thought it right to tell you what 
 it is before matters are finally settled. I’vo 
 often taken a poor deer for my dinner, when good 
 venison was not to be found \ but it’s as nat’ral 
 not to take up with the worst when the best may 
 be had.” 
 
 “You speak in a way, Pathfinder, that is 
 difficult to be understood. If this conversation is 
 really necessary, I trust you will be more plain.” 
 
 “ Well, then, Mabel, I’ve been thinking it was 
 quite likely, when you gave in to the sargeant’s 
 wishes, that you did not know the natur’ of Jas- 
 per Western’s feelings toward you ? ” 
 
 “ Pathfinder ! ’’—and Mabel’s cheek now paled 
 to the livid hue of death ; then it flushed to the 
 tint of crimson ; and her whole frame shuddered. 
 Pathfinder, however, was too intent on his own 
 object to notice this agitation ; and Eau-douce 
 had hidden his face in his hands in time to shut 
 out its view. 
 
 “ I’ve been talking with the lad ; and, on com- 
 paring his dreams with my dreams, his feelings 
 with my feelings, and his wishes with my wishes, 
 I fear we think too much alike concerning you, 
 for both of us to be very happy.” 
 
 “ Pathfinder — you forget — you should re- 
 member that we are betrothed!” said Mabel, 
 hastily, and in a voice so low, that it required 
 acute attention in the listeners to catch the syl- 
 lables. Indeed, the last word was not quite intel 
 
THE HUNTER’S GENEROSITY. 
 
 201 
 
 Bgible to the guide, and he confessed his ignorance 
 by the usual — 
 
 “Anan?” 
 
 “ You forget that we are to be married ; and 
 such allusions are improper as well as painful.” 
 
 “ Every thing is proper that is right, Mabel ; 
 and every thing is right that leads to justice and 
 fair dealing ; though it is 'painful enough, as you 
 say — as I find on trial, I do. Now, Mabel, had 
 .you known that Eau-douce thinks of you in this 
 way, maybe you never would have consented to 
 be married to one as old and as uncomely as I am.” 
 
 “ Why this cruel trial, Pathfinder ? To what 
 can all this lead? Jasper Western thinks no 
 such thing ; he says nothing— he feels nothing.” 
 
 u Mabel ! ” burst from out of the young man’s 
 lips, in a way to betray the uncontrollable nature 
 of his emotions, though he uttered not another 
 syllable. 
 
 Mabel buried her face in both her hands; 
 and the two sat like a pair of guilty beings, sud- 
 denly detected in the commission of some crime 
 that involved the happiness of a common patron. 
 At that instant, perhaps, Jasper himself was in- 
 clined to deny his passion, through an extreme 
 unwillingness to grieve his friend ; while Mabel, 
 on whom this positive anmmncement of a fact 
 that she had rather unconsciously hoped than be- 
 lieved, came so unexpectedly, felt her mind mo- 
 mentarily bewildered, and she scarce knew wheth- 
 er to weep or to rejoice. Still, she was the first 
 to speak ; since Eau-douce could utter naught 
 that would be disingenuous, or that would pain 
 his friend. 
 
 “Pathfinder,” she said, “you talk wildly. 
 Why mention this at all ? ” 
 
 “Well, Mabel, if I talk wildly, I am half wild, 
 you know ; by natur’, I fear, ae well as by habit.” 
 As he said this, he endeavored to laugh in his 
 usual noiseless way, but the effect produced a 
 strange and discordant sound ; and it appeared 
 nearly to choke him. “ Yes, I must be wild ; I’ll 
 not attempt to deny it.” 
 
 “Dearest Pathfinder! — my best, almost my 
 only friend ! you cannot , do not think I intended 
 to say that ! ” interrupted Mabel, almost breath- 
 less in her haste to relieve his mortification — “ if 
 courage, truth, nobleness of soul and conduct, un- 
 yielding principles, and a hundred other excellent 
 qualities, can render any man respectable, es- 
 teemed, or beloved, your claims are inferior to 
 those of no other human being.” 
 
 “What tender and bewitching voices they 
 have, Jasper! ” resumed the guide, now laughing 
 freely and naturally. “Yes, Natur’ seems to 
 have made them on purpose to sing in our ears 
 
 when the music of the woods is silent ! But we 
 must come to a right understanding, we must. 
 I ask you again, Mabel, if you had known that 
 Jasper Western loves you as well as I do, or bet- 
 ter perhaps — though that is scarce possible ; that 
 in his dreams he sees your face in the water of 
 the lake ; that he talks to you and of you in his 
 sleep ; fancies all that is beautiful like Mabel Dun- 
 ham, and all that is good and virtuous ; believes 
 he never knowed happiness until he knowed you ; 
 could kiss the ground on which you have trod, 
 and forgets all the joys of his calling to think of 
 you, and of the delight of gazing at your beauty, 
 and in listening to your voice, would you then 
 have consented to marry me ? ” 
 
 Mabel could not have answered this question 
 if she would ; but, though her face was buried in 
 her hands, the tint of the rushing blood was vis- 
 ible between the openings, and the suffusion 
 seemed to impart itself to her very fingers. Still, 
 Nature asserted her power, for there was a single 
 instant when the astonished, almost terrified girl 
 stole a glance at Jasper, as if distrusting Path- 
 finder’s history of his feelings, read the truth of 
 all he said in that furtive look, and instantly con- 
 cealed her face again, as if she would hide it from 
 observation for ever. 
 
 “ Take time to think, Mabel,” the guide con- 
 tinued, “ for it is a solemn thing to accept one 
 man for a husband, while the thoughts and wish- 
 es lead to another. Jasper and I have talked this 
 matter over, freely and like old friends, and 
 though I always knowed that we viewed most 
 things pretty much alike, I couldn’t have thought 
 that we regarded any particular object with the 
 very same eyes, as it might be, until we opened 
 our minds to each other about you. Now, Jasper 
 owns that the very first time he beheld you, he 
 thought you the sweetest and winningest creatur* 
 he had ever met; that your voice sounded like 
 murmuring water in his ears ; that he fancied his 
 sails were your garments, fluttering in the wind ; 
 that your laugh haunted him in bis sleep ; and 
 that, ag’in and ag’in, has he started up affrighted, 
 because he has fancied some one wanted to force 
 you out of the Scud, where he imagined you had 
 taken up your abode. Nay, the lad has even ac- 
 knowledged that he often weeps at the thought 
 that you are likely to spend your days with an 
 other and not with him.” 
 
 “ Jasper ! ” 
 
 “ It’s solemn truth, Mabel, and it’s right yon 
 should know it. Now stand up, and choose 
 atween us. I do believe Eau-douce loves you as 
 well as I do myself ; he has tried to persuade me 
 that he loves you better, but that I will not Allow 
 
the pathfinder. 
 
 202 
 
 for I do not tlrink it possible ; but I will own the 
 boy loves you, heart and soul, and he has a good 
 right to be heard. The sargeant left me your 
 protector, and not your tyrant. I told him that I 
 would be a father to you, as well as a husband, 
 and it seems to me no feeling father would deny 
 his child this small privilege. Stand up, Mabel, 
 therefore, and speak your thoughts as freely as 
 if I were the sargeant himself, seeking your good, 
 and nothing else.” 
 
 Mabel dropped her hands, arose, and stood 
 face to face with her two suitors, though the flush 
 that was on her cheek was feverish, the evidence 
 of excitement, rather than of shame. 
 
 “ What would you have, Pathfinder ? ” she 
 asked. “ Have I not already promised my poor 
 father to do all you desire? ” 
 
 « Then I desire this. Here I stand, a man ox 
 the forest, and of little laming, though I fear with 
 an ambition beyond my desarts, and I’ll do my 
 endivors to do justice to both sides. In the first 
 place, it is allowed that so far as feelings in your 
 behalf are consarned, we love you just the same ; 
 Jasper thinks his feelings must be the strongest, 
 but this I cannot say, in honesty, for it doesn’t 
 seem to me that it can be true ; else I would 
 frankly and freely confess it, I would. So in this 
 particular, Mabel, we are here before you, on 
 equal tarms. As for myself, being the oldest, 1 11 
 first say what little can be produced in my favor, 
 as well as ag’in it. As a hunter, I do think there 
 ia no man near the lines that can outdo me. It 
 venison or bear’s meat, or even birds and fish, 
 should ever be scarce in our cabin, it would be 
 more likely to be owing to Natur’ and Providence, 
 than to any fault of mine. In short, it does seem 
 to me that the woman who depended on me, 
 would never be likely to want for food. But I’m 
 fearful ignorant! It’s true, I speak several 
 tongues, such as they be, while I’m very far from 
 bein- expart at my own. Then, my years are 
 greater than your own, Mabel ; and the circum- 
 stance that I was so long the sergeant’s comrade 
 can be no great merit in your eyes. I wish, too, 
 
 I was more comely, I do ; but we are all as Natur’ 
 made us, and the last thing that a man ought to 
 lament, except on very special occasions, is his 
 looks. When all is remembered, age, looks, ram- 
 in^, and habits, Mabel, conscience tells me I 
 ought to confess that I’m altogether unfit for you, 
 if not downright unworthy ; and I would give up 
 the hope, this minute, I would, if I didn’t feel 
 something pulling at my heart-strings which seems 
 
 hard to undo.” „ 
 
 “ Pathfinder !— noble, generous Pathfinder ! 
 cried our heroine, seizing his hand, and kissing 
 
 it with a sjecies of holy reverence', “ you do 
 yourself injustice— you forget my poor father and 
 your promise — you do not know me ! 
 
 “Now, here’s Jasper,” continued the guide, 
 without allowing the girl’s caresses to win him 
 from his purpose; “ with him, the case is differ- 
 ent. In the way of providing, as in that of lov- 
 ing, there’s not much to choose atween us, for 
 the 1 lad is frugal, industrious, and careful. Then 
 he is quite a scholar— knows the tongue of the 
 Frenchers— reads many books, and some, I know, 
 that you like to read yourself— can understand 
 you at all times, which, perhaps, is more than I 
 can say for myself.” 
 
 “What of all this ’’—interrupted Mabel, im- 
 patiently— “ why speak of it now— why speak ot 
 
 it at all ? ” . 
 
 “ Then the lad has a manner of letting his 
 thoughts be known, that I fear I can never equal. 
 
 If there’s any thing on ’arth that would make my 
 tongue bold and persuading, Mabel, I do think it’s 
 yourself; and yet, in our late conversations, Jas- j 
 per has outdone me, even on this point, in a way 
 to make me ashamed of myself. He has told me J 
 how simple you were, and how true-hearted, and !) 
 kind-hearted; and how you looked down upon ; 
 vanities, for though you might be the wife of 
 more than one officer, as he thinks, that you cling | 
 to feeling, and would rather be true to yourself, 
 and Natur’, than a colonel’s lady. He fairly made 
 my blood warm, he did, when he spoke of your i 
 having beauty without seeming ever to have 
 looked upon it, and the manner in which you 
 moved about like a young fa’an, so nat’ral and 
 graceful like, without knowing it; and the truth , 
 and justice of your idees, and the warmth and 
 generosity of your heart—” 
 
 “ Jasper ! ” interrupted Mabel, giving way to 
 feelings that had gathered an ungovernable force 
 by being so long pent, and falling into the young 
 man’s willing arms, weeping like a child, and al- 
 most as helpless. “Jasper! — Jasper ! — why 
 have you kept this from me?” 
 
 The answer of Eau-douce was not very intelli- 
 gible, nor was the murmured dialogue that fol 
 lowed remarkable for coherency. But the lan 
 guage of affection is easily understood. The houi 
 that succeeded passed like a very few minutes of 
 ordinary life, so far as a computation of time was 
 concerned; and when Mabel recollected herself, 
 and bethought her of the existence of others, ner 
 uncle was pacing the cutter’s deck in great im- 
 patience, and wondering why Jasper should be 
 losing so much of a favorable wind. Her first 
 thought was of him who was so likely to feel the 
 recent betrayal of her real emotions. 
 
MABEL’S CHOICE. 
 
 203 
 
 %i Oh! Jasper!’ 1 she exclaimed, like one sud- 
 denly self-convicted — “ the Pathfinder ! ” 
 
 Eau-douce fairly trembled, not with unmanly 
 apprehension, but with the painful coiiviction of 
 the pang he had given his friend ; and he looked 
 in all directions in the expectation of seeing his 
 person. But Pathfinder had withdrawn, with a 
 tact and a delicacy that might have done credit 
 to the sensibility and breeding of a courtier. For 
 several minutes the two lovers sat silently await- 
 ing his return, uncertain what propriety required 
 of them, under circumstances so marked and so 
 peculiar. At length they beheld their friend ad- 
 vancing slowly toward them, with a thoughtful 
 and even pensive air. 
 
 “I now understand what you meant, Jasper, 
 by speaking without a tongue, and hearing with- 
 out an ear,” he said, when close enough to the 
 tree to be heard. “ Yes, I understand it, now I 
 do, and a very pleasant sort of discourse it is, 
 when one can hold it with Mabel Dunham. Ah’s 
 me! — J told the sargeant I wasn’t fit for her; 
 that I was too old, too ignorant, and too wild, 
 like — but he would have it otherwise.” 
 
 Jasper and Mabel sat, resembling Milton’s 
 picture of our first parents, when the conscious- 
 ness of sin first laid its leaden weight on their 
 souls. Neither spoke, neither even moved; 
 though both at that moment fancied they could 
 part with their new-found happiness, in order to 
 restore their friend to his peace of mind. Jasper 
 was pale as death ; but, in Mabel, maiden mod- 
 esty had caused the blood to mantle on her 
 cheeks, until their bloom was heightened to a 
 richness that was scarce equalled in her hours of 
 light-hearted buoyancy and joy. As the feeling, 
 which, in her sex, always accompanies the se- 
 curity of love returned, threw its softness and 
 tenderness over her countenance, she was singu- 
 larly beautiful. Pathfinder gazed at her with an 
 intentness he did not endeavor to conceal, and 
 then he fairly laughed in his own way, and with 
 a sort of wild exultation, as men that are untu- 
 tored are wont to express their delight. This 
 momentary indulgence, however, was expiated by 
 the pang that followed the sudden consciousness 
 that this glorious young creature was lost to him 
 for ever. It required a full minute for this sim- 
 ple-minded being to recover from the shock of 
 this conviction ; and then he recovered his dig- 
 mty of manner, speaking with gravity — almost 
 with solemnity. 
 
 “ I have always known, Mabel Dunham, that 
 men have their gifts,” he said ; “ but I’d forgot- 
 ten that it did not belong to mine, to please the 
 young, and beautiful, and l’amed. I hope the 
 
 mistake has been no very heavy sin ; and, if it 
 was, I’ve been heavily punished for it, I have. 
 Nay, Mabel, I know what you’d say, but its un- 
 necessary ; I feel it all, and that is as good as if 
 I heard it all. I’ve had a bitter hour, Mabel-— 
 I’ve had a very bitter hour, lad — ” 
 
 “ Hour ! ” echoed Mabel, as the other first 
 used the word, the tell-tale blood which had be- 
 gun to ebb toward her heart, rushing again tu- 
 multuously to her very temples. “ Surely not an 
 hour, Pathfinder ? ” 
 
 Hour!” exclaimed Jasper at the same in- 
 stant — “no — no — my worthy friend, it is not ten 
 minutes since you left us ! ” 
 
 “Well, it maybe so; though to me it has 
 seemed to be a day. I begin to think, however, 
 that the happy count time by minutes, and the 
 miserable count it by months. But we will talk 
 no more of this ; it is all over now, and many 
 words about it will make you no happier, while 
 they will only tell me what I’ve lost ; and quite 
 
 likely how much I desarved to lose her. No no 
 
 — Mabel, *tis useless to interrupt me ; I admit it 
 all, and your gainsaying it, though it be so well 
 meant, cannot change my mind. Well, Jasper, 
 she is yours ; and though it’s hard to think it, I 
 do believe you’ll make her happier than I could, 
 for your gifts are better suited to do so, though I 
 would have strived hard to do as much, if I knew 
 myself, I would. I ought to have known better 
 than to believe the sargeant ; and I ought to have 
 put faith in what Mabel told me at the head of 
 the lake, for reason and judgment might have 
 shown me its truth ; but it is so pleasant to think 
 what we wish, and mankind so easily over-per- 
 suade us when we over-persuade ourselves. But 
 what’s the use in talking of it, as I said afore ? 
 It’s true, Mabel seemed to be consenting, though 
 it all came from a wish to please her father, and 
 from being skeary about the savages — ” 
 
 “ Pathfinder ! ” 
 
 “ I understand you, Mabel, and have no hard 
 feelings, I hav’n’t. I sometimes think I should 
 like to live in your neighborhood that I might 
 look at your happiness ; but on the whole it is 
 better I should quit the 55th altogether and go 
 back to the 60th, which is my natyve rijiment, as 
 it might be. It would have been better, perhaps, 
 had I never left it, though my sarvices were much 
 wanted in this quarter, and I’d been with some of 
 the 65th years agone — Sargeant Dunham, for in 
 stance, when he was in another corps. Still, 
 Jasper, I do not regret that I have known 
 you — ” 
 
 “And me, Pathfinder!” impetuously inter, 
 rupted Mabel — “do you regret having known 
 
304 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 me 2 — could I think so I should never be at peace 
 with myself ! ” 
 
 « You, Mabel ! ” returned the guide, taking the 
 hand of our heroine, and looking up into her 
 countenance with guileless simplicity but earnest 
 affection— “ how could I be sorry that a ray of 
 the sun came across the gloom of a cheerless 
 day? that light has broken in upon darkness, 
 though it remained so short a time ? I do not flat- 
 ter myself with being able to march quite as 
 light-hearted as I once used to could, or to sleep 
 as sound for some time to come ; but I shall always 
 remember how near I was to being undesarvedly 
 happy, I shall. So far from blaming you, Mabel, 
 
 I only blame myself for being so vain as to think 
 it possible I could please such a creatur ; for, 
 sartinly you told me how it was when we talked it 
 over on the mountain, and I ought to have believed 
 you then ; for I do suppose it’s nat’ral that young 
 women should know their own minds better than 
 their fathers. Ah’s me! It’s settled now, and 
 nothing remains but for me to take leave of you 
 that you may depart ; I feel that Master Cap must 
 be impatient, and there is danger of his coming on 
 shore to look for us all.” 
 
 “ To take leave ! ” exclaimed Mabel. 
 
 “ Leave ! ” echoed Jasper “ you do not mean 
 to quit us, my friend ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis best, Mabel— ’tis altogether best, Eau- 
 douce ; and it’s wisest. I could live and die in 
 your company if I only followed feeling; but if I 
 follow reason, I shall quit you here. You will go 
 back to Oswego, and become man and wife as 
 soon as you arrive ; for all that is determined with 
 Master Cap, who hankers after the sea again, and 
 who knows what is to happen: while I shall return 
 to the wilderness and my Maker. Come, Mabel,” 
 continued Pathfinder, rising and drawing nearer to 
 our heroine with grave decorum, “ kiss me. Jas- 
 per will not grudge me one kiss : then we’ll part.” 
 
 “ Oh ! Pathfinder,” exclaimed Mabel, falling 
 into the arms of the guide and kissing his cheeks 
 again and again, with a freedom and warmth she 
 had been far from manifesting while held to the 
 bosom of Jasper— “ God bless you, dearest Path- 
 finder ! You will come to us hereafter. We shall 
 see you again. When old you will come to our 
 dwelling and let me be a daughter to you ? ” 
 
 “ Y es — that’s it ’’—returned the guide, almost 
 gasping for breath : “ I’ll try to think of it in that 
 way. You’re more befitting to be my daughter 
 than to be my wife, you are. Farewell, Jasper. 
 Now we’ll go to the canoe ; it’s time you were on 
 board.” 
 
 The manner in which Pathfinder led the way 
 to the shore was solemn and calm. As soon as he 
 
 reached the canoe, he again took Mabel by the 
 hands, held her at the length of his own arms, 
 and gazed wistfully into her face, until the un- 
 bidden tears rolled out of the fountains of feeling f 
 and trickled down his rugged cheeks in streams. 
 
 “ Bless me, Pathfinder,” said Mabel, kneeling 
 reverently at his feet. “ Oh ! at least bless me be- 
 fore we part.” 
 
 That untutored, but noble-minded being did 
 as she desired ; and, aiding her to enter the canoe, 
 seemed to tear himself away as one snaps a strong 
 and obstinate cord. Before he retired, however, 
 he took Jasper by the arm, and led him a little 
 aside, when he spoke as follows : 
 
 “You’re kind of heart, and gentle by natur’, 
 Jasper ; but we are both rough and wild, in com- 
 parison with that dear cretur’. Be careful of her, 
 and never show the roughness of man’s natur to 
 her soft disposition. You’ll get to understand 
 her in time ; and the Lord who governs the lake 
 and the forest alike— who looks upon virtue with 
 a smile, and upon vice with a frown— keep you 
 happy and worthy to be so ! ” 
 
 Pathfinder made a sign for his friend to de- 
 part ; and he stood leaning on his rifle until the 
 canoe had reached the side of the Scud. Mabel 
 wept as if her heart would break ; nor did her eyes 
 once turn from the open spot in the glade, where 
 the form of the Pathfinder was to be seen, until 
 the cutter had passed a point that completely 
 shut out the island. When last in view, the 
 sinewy frame of this extraordinary man was as 
 motionless as if it were a statue set up in that 
 solitary place, to commemorate the scenes of 
 which it had so lately been the witness. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 “ Oh ! let me only breathe the air, 
 
 The blessed air that’s breathed by thee; 
 
 And, whether on its wings it bear 
 Healing or death, ’tis sweet to me ! ” 
 
 Moobe. 
 
 Pathfinder was accustomed to solitude ; but 
 when the Scud had actually disappeared, he was 
 almost overcome with a sense of his loneliness. 
 Never before had he been conscious of his isolated 
 condition in the world ; for his feelings had gradu- 
 ally been accustoming themselves to the blan- 
 dishment and wants of social life ; particularly as 
 the last were connected with the domestic af- 
 fections. Now, all had vanished, as it might be, 
 in one moment; and he was left equally without 
 companions, and without hope. Even Chingacb- 
 
JUNE AT ARROWHEAD’S GRAVE. 
 
 205 
 
 gook had left him, though it was but temporarily ; 
 still, his presence was missed at the precise instant 
 which might be termed the most critical in our 
 hero’s life. 
 
 Pathfinder stood leaning on his rifle, in the 
 attitude described in the last chapter, a long time 
 after the Scud had disappeared. The rigidity of 
 his limbs seemed permanent ; and none but a man 
 accustomed to put his muscles to the severest 
 proof, could have maintained that posture, with 
 its marble-like inflexibility, for so great a length 
 of time. At length he moved away from the spot . 
 the motion of the body being preceded by a sigh 
 that seemed to heave up from the very depths 
 of his bosom. 
 
 It was a peculiarity of this extraordinary be- 
 ing, that his senses and his limbs, for all practical 
 purposes, were never at fault, let the mind be 
 preoccupied with other interests as much as it 
 might. On the present occasion neither of these 
 great auxiliaries failed him ; but, though his 
 thoughts were exclusively occupied with Ma- 
 bel, her beauty, her preference of Jasper, her 
 tears, and her departure, he moved in a direct line 
 to the spot where June still remained, which w as 
 the grave of her husband. The conversation that 
 followed passed in the language of the Tuscaroras, 
 which Pathfinder spoke fluently ; but, as that 
 tongue is understood only by the extremely learned, 
 we shall translate it freely into the English ; pre- 
 serving, as far as possible, the tone of thought 
 of each interlocutor, as well as the peculiarities 
 of manner. 
 
 June had suffered her hair to fall about her 
 face, had taken a seat on a stone that had been 
 dug from the excavation made by the grave, and 
 was hanging over the spot that contained the body 
 of Arrowhead, unconscious of the presence of any 
 other. She believed, indeed, that all had left the 
 island but herself, and the tread of the guide’s 
 moccasined foot was too noiseless rudely to un- 
 deceive her. 
 
 Pathfinder stood gazing at the woman for sev- 
 eral minutes in mute attention. The contempla- 
 tion of her grief, the recollection of her irrepa- 
 rable loss, and the view of her desolation, produced 
 a healthful influence on his own feelings ; his rea- 
 son telling him how much deeper lay the sources 
 of grief in a young wife, who was suddenly and 
 violently deprived of her husband, than in him- 
 self. 
 
 “Dew-of-June,” he said, solemnly, but with 
 an earnestness that denoted the strength of his 
 sympathy — “you are not alone in your sorrow. 
 Turn, and let your eyes look upon a friend.” 
 
 “ June has no longer any friend ! ” the woman 
 
 answered: “Arrowhead has gone to the happy 
 hunting-grounds, and there is no one left to care 
 for June. The Tuscaroras would chase her from 
 their wigwams ; the Iroquois are hateful in hei 
 eyes, and she could not look at them. No! — 
 leave June to starve over the grave of her hus- 
 band.” 
 
 “ This will never do — this will never do. ’Tia 
 ag’in reason and right. You believe in the Mani- 
 tou, June?” 
 
 “ He has hid his face from June, because he is 
 angry. He has left her alone to die.” 
 
 “ Listen to one who has had a long acquaint- 
 ance with red natur’, though he has a white birth 
 and white gifts. When the Manitou of a pale-face 
 wishes to produce good in a pale-face heart, he 
 strikes it with grief, for it is in our sorrows, June, 
 that we look with the truest eyes into ourselves, 
 and with the farthest sighted eyes too, as respects 
 right. The Great Spirit wishes you well and he 
 has taken away the chief, lest you should be led 
 astray by his wily tongue, and get to be a Mingo 
 in your disposition, as you were already in your 
 company.” 
 
 “ Arrowhead was a great chief! ” returned the 
 woman, proudly. 
 
 “ He had his merits, he had ; and he had his 
 demerits, too. But, June, you’re not desarted, 
 nor will you be soon. Let your grief out — let it 
 out, according to natur’, and when the proper 
 time comes, I shall have more to say to you.” 
 
 Pathfinder now went to his own canoe, and he 
 left the island. In the course of the day, June 
 heard the crack of his rifle once or twice ; and, as 
 the sun was setting, he reappeared, bringing her 
 birds ready cooked, and of a delicacy and flavor 
 that might have tempted the appetite of an epi- 
 cure. This species of intercourse lasted a month, 
 June obstinately refusing to abandon the grave 
 of her husband all that time, though she still ac- 
 cepted the friendly offerings of her protector. 
 Occasionally they met and conversed, Pathfinder 
 sounding the state of the woman’s feelings ; but 
 the interviews were short and far from frequent. 
 June slept in one of the huts, and she laid down 
 her head in security, for she was conscious of the 
 protection of a friend, though Pathfinder invari- 
 ably retired at night to an adjacent island, where 
 he had built himself a hut. 
 
 At the end of the month, however, the season 
 was getting to be too far advanced to render her 
 situation pleasant to June. The trees had lost 
 their leaves, and the nights were becoming cold 
 and wintry. It was time to depart. 
 
 At this moment, Chingachgook reappeared. 
 He had a long and confidential interview on th« 
 
206 
 
 THE PATHFINDER. 
 
 island, with hig friend. June witnessed their 1 
 movements, and she saw that her guardian was 
 distressed. Stealing to his side, she endeavored i 
 to soothe his sorrow, with a woman’s gentleness, ] 
 and with a woman’s instinct. 
 
 « Thank you, June— thank you he said — 
 
 “ tia well meant, though it’s useless. But it is 
 time to quit this place. To-morrow we shall de- 
 part. Fou will go with us, for now you’ve got to 
 feel reason.” 
 
 June assented in the meek manner of an In- 
 dian woman, and she withdrew to pass the re- 
 mainder of her time near the grave of Arrowhead. 
 Regardless of the hour and the season, the young 
 widow did not pillow her head during the whole 
 of that autumnal night. She sat near the spot 
 that held the remains of her husband, and prayed, 
 in the manner of her people, for his success on the 
 endless path on which he had so lately gone, and 
 for their reunion in the land of the just. Humble 
 and degraded as she would have seemed in the 
 eyes of the sophisticated and unreflecting, the 
 image of God was on her soul, and it vindicated its 
 divine origin by aspirations and feelings that would 
 have surprised those who, feigning more, feel less. 
 
 In the morning the three departed ; Pathfinder 
 earnest and intelligent in all he did, the Great 
 Serpent silent and imitative, and June meek, re- 
 signed, but sorrowful. They went in two canoes, 
 that of the woman being abandoned. Chingach- 
 gook led the way and Pathfinder followed, the 
 course being up stream. Two days they paddled 
 westward, and as many nights they encamped on 
 islands. Fortunately the weather became mild, 
 and when they reached the lake it was found 
 smooth and glassy as a pond. It was the Indian 
 summer, and the calm and almost the blandness 
 of June slept in the hazy atmosphere. 
 
 On the morning of the third day they passed 
 the mouth of the Oswego, where the fort and 
 the sleeping ensign invited them in vain to enter. 
 Without casting a look aside, Chingachgook pad- 
 died past the dark waters of the river, and Path- 
 finder still followed in silent industry. The ram- 
 parts were crowded with spectators ; but Lundie, 
 who knew the persons of his old friends, refused 
 to allow them to be even hailed. 
 
 It was noon when Chingachgook entered a lit- 
 tle bay where the Scud lay at anchor in a sort of 
 roadstead. A small ancient clearing was on the 
 shore, and near the margin of the lake was a log 
 dwelling, recently and completely, though rudely 
 fitted up. There was an air of frontier comfort 
 and of frontier abundance around the place, though 
 it was necessarily wild and solitary. Jasper stood 
 onthe shore ; and, when Pathfinder landed, he was 
 
 the first to take him by the hand. The meeting 
 was simple, but very cordial. No questions were 
 asked, it being apparent that Chingachgook had 
 made the necessary explanations. Pathfinder 
 never squeezed his friend’s hand more cordially 
 than in this interview ; and he even laughed cor- 
 dially in his face as he told him how happy and 
 well he appeared. 
 
 “ Where is she, Jasper — where is she ? ” the 
 guide at length whispered ; for at first he had 
 seemed to be afraid to trust himself with the 
 question. 
 
 “ She is waiting for us in the house, my dear 
 friend, where you see that June has already hast- 
 ened before us.” 
 
 “ June may use a lighter step to meet Mabel, 
 but she cannot carry a lighter heart. And so, 
 lad, you found the chaplain at the garrison, and 
 all was soon settled? ” 
 
 “ We were married within a week after we left 
 you, and Master Cap departed next day— you 
 have forgotten to inquire about your friend, Salt- 
 water — ” 
 
 “ Not I — not I. The Sarpent has told me all 
 that ; and then I love to hear so much of Mabel 
 and her happiness, I do. Did the child smile, or 
 did she weep when the ceremony was over ? ” 
 
 “ She did both, my friend ; but — ” 
 
 “ Yes, that’s their natur’ ; tearful and cheer- 
 ful. Ah’s me ! they are very pleasant to us of 
 the woods ; and I do believe I shall think all right, 
 whatever Mabel might do. And do you think, 
 Jasper, that she thought of me at all, on that joy- 
 ful occasion ? ” 
 
 “ I know she did, Pathfinder ; and she thinks 
 of you and talks ol you daily — almost hourly. 
 None love you as we do ! ” 
 
 “I know few love me better than yourself, 
 Jasper. Chingachgook is, perhaps, now the only 
 creatur’ of whom I can say that. Well, there s 
 no use in putting it off any longer ; it must be 
 done, and may as well be done at once ; so, Jasper, 
 lead the way, and I’ll endivor to look upon her 
 sweet countenance once more.” 
 
 Jasper did lead the way, and they were soon 
 in the presence of Mabel. The latter met her 
 late suitor with a bright blush, and her limbs trem* 
 bled so she could hardly stand. Still, her manner 
 was affectionate and frank. During the hour of 
 Pathfinder’s visit, for it lasted no longer, though 
 ; he ate in the dwelling of his friends, one who was 
 expert in tracing the workings of the human mind 
 ; might have seen a faithful index to the feelings of 
 l Mabel, in her manner to Pathfinder and her hua. 
 [ band. With the latter she still had a little of the 
 I reserve that usually accompanies young wedlock 
 
THE HUNTER’S FAREWELL. 
 
 207 
 
 Dut the tones of her voice were kinder even than 
 common ; the glance of her eye was tender, and 
 she seldom looked at him without the glow that 
 tinged her cheeks betraying the existence of feel- 
 ings that habit and time had not yet soothed 
 into absolute tranquillity. With Pathfinder, all 
 was earnest, sincere — even anxious ; but the tones 
 never trembled, the eye never fell, and, if the 
 cheek flushed, it was with the emotions that are 
 connected with concern. 
 
 At length the moment came when Pathfinder 
 must go his way. Chingachgook had already 
 abandoned the canoes, and was posted on the mar- 
 gin of the woods, where a path led into the forest. 
 Here he calmly waited to be joined by his friend. 
 As soon as the latter was aware of this fact, he 
 rose in a solemn manner, and took his leave. 
 
 “Pve sometimes thought that my own fate 
 has been a little hard,” he said ; “ but that of this 
 woman, Mabel, has shamed me into reason ” 
 
 “June remains, and lives with me,” eagerly 
 interrupted our heroine. 
 
 “ So I comprehend it. If anybody can bring 
 her back from her grief, and make her wish to 
 live, you can do it, Mabel, though I’ve misgivings 
 about even your success. The poor creatur’ is 
 without a tribe as well as without a husband, and 
 it’s not easy to reconcile the feelings to both 
 losses. Ah’s me ! — what have I to do with other 
 people’s miseries and marriages, as if I hadn’t 
 affliction enough of my own ? Don’t speak to me, 
 Mabel don t speak to me, Jasper — let me go my 
 way m peace, and like a man. I’ve seen your 
 happiness, and that is a great deal, and I shall be 
 able to bear my own sorrow all the better for it. 
 No— I’ll never kiss you ag’in, Mabel, I’ll never 
 kiss you ag’in. Here’s my hand, J asper — squeeze 
 b °J, squeeze it ; no fear of its giving way, for 
 it’s the hand of a man— and, now, Mabel, do you 
 take it— nay, you must not do this—” preventing 
 Mabel from kissing it, and bathing it with her 
 tears — “ you must not do this.” 
 
 “ Pathfinder,” asked Mabel, “ when shall we 
 see you again ? ” 
 
 I ve thought of that, too ; yes, I’ve thought 
 of that, I have. If the time should ever come 
 when I can look upon you altogether as a sister, 
 Mabel, or a child— it might be better to say a 
 child, since you’re young enough to be my daugh- 
 ter— depend on it, I’ll come back ; for it would 
 lighten my very heart to witness your gladness. 
 
 But if I cannot— farewell— farewell— the sargeant 
 was wrong— yes, the sargeant was wrong ! ” 
 
 This was the last the Pathfinder ever uttered to 
 &e ears of Jasper Western and Mabel Dunham. 
 
 He turned away, as if the words choked him 
 and was quickly at the side of his friend. As 
 soon as the latter saw him approach, he shoul- 
 dered his own burden, and glided in among the 
 trees without waiting to be spoken to. Mabel, 
 her husband, and June, all watched the form of 
 the Pathfinder, in the hope of receiving a parting 
 gesture, or a stolen glance of the eye ; but he did 
 not look back. Once or twice they thought they 
 saw his head shake, as one trembles in bitterness 
 of spirit ; and a toss of the hand was given, as if 
 he knew that he was watched ; but a tread whose 
 vigor no sorrow could enfeeble, soon bore him out 
 of view, and he was lost in the depths of the forest. 
 
 Neither Jasper nor his wife ever beheld the 
 Pathfinder again. They remained for another 
 year on the banks of Ontario ; and then the press- 
 ing solicitations of Cap induced them to join him 
 in Isew York, where Jasper eventually became a 
 successful and respected merchant. Thrice Mabel 
 received valuable presents of furs, at intervals of 
 years ; and her feelings told her whence they 
 came, though no name accompanied the gift. 
 Later in life still, when the mother of several 
 youths, she had occasion to visit the interior, and 
 found herself on the banks of the Mohawk, accom- 
 panied by her sons, the eldest of whom was ca- 
 pable of being her protector. On that occasion 
 she observed a man in a singular guise, watching 
 her in the distance, with an intentness that in- 
 duced her to inquire into his pursuits and char- 
 acter. She was told he was the most renowned 
 hunter of that portion of the State— it was after 
 the Revolution— a being of great purity of char- 
 acter, and of as marked peculiarities ; and that 
 he was known in that region of country by the 
 name of the Leather-stocking. Further than this 
 Mrs. Western could not ascertain ; though the dis- 
 tant glimpse and singular deportment of this un- 
 known hunter gave her a sleepless night, and cast 
 a shade of melancholy over her still lovely face, 
 that lasted many a day. 
 
 As for June, the double loss of husband and 
 tribe produced the effect that Pathfinder had fore 
 seen. She died in the cottage of Mabel, on the 
 shores of the lake ; and Jasper conveyed her body 
 to the island, where he interred it by the side of 
 that of Arrowhead. 
 
 Lundie lived to marry his ancient love, and 
 retired, a war-worn and battered veteran : but his 
 name has been rendered illustrious in our own 
 time by the deeds of a younger brother, who suc- 
 ceeded to his territorial title, which, however, was 
 shortly after merged in one earned by bis valoi 
 on the ocean. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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THE 
 
 PIONEERS. 
 
 The Leather-stocking . . . applied the gun to the rear of his enemy, and by a powerful shove sent him 
 DUtside of the works.” p. 188. 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 . APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 D 
 
 PUBLISHERS. 
 
5 
 
 THE PIONEERS 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE SOUKCES OF THE S IJS Q HE HAH HA, 
 
 A DESCRIPTIVE TALE, 
 
 BY 
 
 J. FENIMOKE COOPEE. 
 
 “Extremes of habits, manners, time, and space, 
 Brought close together, here stood face to face, 
 And gave at once a contrast to the view, 
 
 That other lands and ages never knew.” 
 
 Paulding. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS BY F. 0. C. DARLEY. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, and 5 BOND STREET. 
 
 1 8 8 5 . 
 
 10 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 
 D. APPLETON & CO., 
 
 It the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 As this work professes, in its title-page, to be a descriptive tale, they who will take 
 the trouble to read it may be glad to know how much of its contents is literal fact, and 
 how much is intended to represent a general picture. The author is very sensible that, 
 had he confined himself to the latter, always the most effective, as it is the most valuable, 
 mode of conveying knowledge of this nature, he would have made a far better book. 
 But in commencing to describe scenes, and perhaps he may add characters, that were so 
 familiar to his own youth, there was a constant temptation to delineate that which he had 
 known, rather than that which he might have imagined. This rigid adhesion to truth, 
 an indispensable requisite in history and travels, destroys the charm of fiction; for all that 
 is necessary to be conveyed to the mind by the latter had better be done by delineations 
 of principles, and of characters in their classes, than by a too fastidious attention to 
 originals. 
 
 New York having but one county of Otsego, and the Susquehanna but one proper 
 source, there can be no mistake as to the site of the tale. The history of this district 
 of country, so far as it is connected with civilized men, is soon told. 
 
 Otsego, in common with most of the interior of the province of New York, was includ- 
 ed in the county of Albany, previously to the war of the separation. It then became, in 
 a subsequent division of territory, a part of Montgomery ; and, finally, having obtained 
 a sufficient population of its own, it was set apart as a county by itself, shortly after the 
 peace of 1783. It lies among those low spurs of the Alleghanies which cover the mid- 
 land counties of New York; and it is a little east of a meridional line drawn through 
 the centre of the State. As the waters of New York flow either southerly into the 
 Atlantic or northerly into Ontario and its outlet, Otsego Lake, being the source of the 
 Susquehanna, is, of necessity, among its highest lands. The face of the country, the 
 climate as it was found by the whites, and the manners of the settlers, are described 
 with a minuteness for which the author has no other apology than the force of his own 
 recollections. 
 
 Otsego is said to be a word compounded of Ot, a place of meeting, and Sego, or 
 Sago, the ordinary term of salutation used by the Indians of this region. There is a 
 tradition which says, that the neighboring tribes were accustomed to meet on the banks 
 of the lake tc make their treaties, and otherwise to strengthen their alliances, and 
 
4 : 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 which refers the name to this practice. As the Indian agent of New York had a log 
 dwelling at the foot of the lake, however, it is not impossible that the appellation grew 
 out of the meetings that were held at his council fires ; the war drove off the agent, in 
 common with the other officers of the crown ; and his rude dwelling was soon aban- 
 doned. The author remembers it, a few years later, reduced to the humble office of a 
 smoke-house. 
 
 In 1779, an expedition was sent against the hostile Indians, who dwelt about a hun- 
 dred miles west of Otsego, on the banks of the Cayuga. The whole country was then a 
 wilderness, and it was necessary to transport the baggage of the troops by means of the 
 rivers — a devious but practicable route. One brigade ascended the Mohawk, until it 
 reached the point nearest to the sources of the Susquehanna ; whence it cut a lane 
 through the forest to the head of the Otsego. The boats and baggage were carried over 
 this “portage,” and the troops proceeded to the other extremity of the lake, where they 
 disembarked and encamped. The Susquehanna, a narrow though rapid stream at its 
 source, was much filled with “flood wood,” or fallen trees; and the troops adopted a 
 novel expedient to facilitate their passage. The Otsego is about nine miles in length, 
 varying in breadth from half a mile to a mile and a half. The water is of great depth, 
 limpid, and supplied from a thousand springs. At its foot, the banks are rather less 
 than thirty feet high ; the remainder of its margin being in mountains, intervals, and 
 points. The outlet, or the Susquehanna, flows through a gorge in the low banks just 
 mentioned, which may have a width of two hundred feet. This gorge was dammed, and 
 the waters of the lake collected : the Susquehanna was converted into a rill. When all 
 was ready, the troops embarked, the dam was knocked away, the Otsego poured out its 
 torrent, and the boats went merrily down with the current. 
 
 General James Clinton, the brother of George Clinton, then governor of New York, 
 and the father of De Witt Clinton, who died governor of the same State in 1827, com- 
 manded the brigade employed on this duty. During the stay of the troops at the foot 
 of the Otsego a soldier was shot for desertion. The grave of this unfortunate man was 
 the first place of human interment that the author ever beheld, as the smoke-house 
 was the first ruin! The swivel alluded to in this work was buried and abandoned by the 
 troops on this occasion ; and it was subsequently found in digging the cellars of the 
 author’s paternal residence. 
 
 Soon after the close of the war, Washington, accompanied by many distinguished 
 men, visited the scene of this tale, it is said, with a view to examine the facilities for 
 opening a communication by water with other points of the country. He stayed but a 
 few hours. 
 
 In 1785, the author’s father, who had an interest in extensive tracts ol land in this 
 wilderness, arrived with a party of surveyors. The manner in which the scene met his 
 eye is described by Judge Temple. At the commencement of the following year the 
 settlement began ; and from that time to this the country has continued to flourish. It 
 is a singular feature in American life, that, at the beginning of this century, when the 
 proprietor of the estate had occasion for settlers on a new settlement, and in a remote 
 county, he was enabled to draw them from among the increase of the former colony. 
 
 Although the settlement of this part of Otsego a little preceded the birth of the 
 author, it was not sufficiently advanced to render it desirable that an event, so important 
 to himself, should take place in the wilderness. Perhaps his mother had a reasonable 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 5 
 
 distrust of tho practice of Dr. Todd, who must then have been in the novitiate of his 
 experimental acquirements. Be that as it may, the author was brought an infant 
 into this valley, and all his first impressions were here obtained. He has inhabited it 
 ever since, at intervals ; and he thinks he can answer for the faithfulness of the picture 
 he has drawn. 
 
 Otsego has now become one of the most populous districts of New York. It sends 
 forth its emigrants like any other old region; and it is pregnant with industry and en- 
 terprise. Its manufactures are prosperous; and it is worthy of remark, that one of tho 
 most ingenious machines known in European art is derived from the keen ingenuity 
 which is exercised in this remote region. 
 
 In order to prevent mistake, it may be well to say that the incidents of this tale are 
 purely a fiction. The literal facts are chiefly connected with the natural and artificial 
 objects, and the customs of the inhabitants. Thus the academy, and court-house, and 
 jail, and inn, and most similar things, are tolerably exact. They have all, long since, 
 given place to other buildings of a more pretending character. There is also some lib- 
 erty taken with the truth in the description of the principal dwelling: the real building 
 had no “firstly” and “lastly.” It was of bricks, and not of stone; and its roof exhib- 
 ited none of the peculiar beauties of the “ composite order.” It was erected in an age 
 too primitive for that ambitious school of architecture. But the author indulged his 
 recollections freely when he had fairly entered the door. Here all is literal, even to the 
 severed arm of Wolf, and the urn which held the ashes of Queen Dido.* 
 
 The author has elsewhere said that the character of Leather-stocking is a creation, 
 rendered probable by such auxiliaries as were necessary to produce that effect. Had he 
 drawn still more upon fancy, the lovers of fiction would not have so much cause for their 
 objections to his work. Still the picture would not have been in the least true, without 
 some substitutes for most of the other personages. The great proprietor resident on his 
 lands, and giving his name to, instead of receiving it from his estates, as in Europe, is 
 common over the whole of New York. The physician, with his theory, rather obtained 
 than corrected by experiments on the human constitution ; the pious, self-denying, labori- 
 ous, and ill-paid missionary ; the half-educated, litigious, envious, and disreputable lawyer, 
 with his counterpoise, a brother of the profession, of better origin and of better charac- 
 ter ; the shiftless, bargaining, discontented seller of his “ betterments; ” the plausible car- 
 penter, and most of the others, are more familiar to all who have ever dwelt in a new 
 country. 
 
 It may be well to say here, a little more explicitly, there was no intention to de- 
 scribe with particular accuracy any real characters in this book. It has been often said, 
 and in published statements, that the heroine of this book was drawn after a sister of the 
 writer, who was killed by a fall from a horse now near half a century since. So in- 
 genious is conjecture, that a personal resemblance has been discovered between the fic- 
 titious character and the deceased relative! It is scarcely possible to describe two fe- 
 males of the same class in life, who would be less alike, personally, than Elizabetli Temple 
 and the sister of the author who met with the deplorable fate mentioned. In a word, 
 they were as unlike in this respect, as in history, character, and fortunes. 
 
 * Though forests still crown the mountains of Otsego, the bear, the wolf, and the panther, are nearly strangers to 
 Aem. Even the innocent deer is rarely seen bounding beneath their arches ; for the rifle, and the activity of the set- 
 tlers, have driven them to other haunts. To this change (which, in some particulars, is melancholy to one who knew 
 the country in its infancy) it may be added, that the Otsego is beginning to be a niggard of its treasures 
 
6 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Circumstances rendered this sister singularly dear to the author. After a lapse of 
 half a century, he is writing this paragraph with a pain that would induce him to cancel 
 it, were it not still more painful to have it believed that one whom he regarded with a 
 reverence that surpassed the love of a brother, was converted by him into the heroine of 
 a work of fiction. 
 
 From circumstances which, after this introduction, will be obvious to all, the author 
 has had more pleasure in writing “The Pioneers” than the book will, probably, ever 
 give any of its readers. He is quite aware of its numerous faults, some of which he has 
 endeavored to repair in this edition ; but as he has — in intention, at least — done his full 
 share in amusing the world, he trusts to its good -nature for overlooking this attempt to 
 please himself. 
 
THE PIONEERS, 
 
 OR THE 
 
 SOURCES OF THE SUSQUEHANNA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 * See, Winter comes, to rule the varied year, 
 
 Sullen and sad, with all his rising train ; 
 
 Yapors, and clouds, and storms.” 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 Near the centre of the State of New York 
 lies an extensive district of country, whose sur- 
 face is a succession of hills and dales, or, to speak 
 with greater deference to geographical definitions, 
 of mountains and valleys. It is among these hills 
 that the Delaware takes its rise ; and, flowing from 
 the limpid lakes and thousand springs of this re- 
 gion, the numerous sources of the Susquehanna 
 meander through the valleys, until, uniting their 
 streams, they form one of the proudest rivers of 
 the United States. The mountains are generally 
 arable to the tops, although instances are not 
 wanting where the sides are jutted with rocks, 
 that aid greatly in giving to the country that ro- 
 mantic and picturesque character which it so 
 eminently possesses. The vales are narrow, rich, 
 and cultivated ; with a stream uniformly winding 
 through each. Beautiful and thriving villages 
 are found interspersed along the margins of the 
 small lakes, or situated at those points of the 
 Streams which are favorable for manufacturing ; 
 and neat and comfortable farms, with every indi- 
 cation of wealth about them, are scattered pro- 
 fusely through the vales, and even to the moun- 
 tain tops. Roads diverge in every direction, from 
 the even and graceful bottoms of the valleys, to 
 the most rugged and intricate passes of the hills. 
 Academies, and minor edifices of learning, meet 
 the eye of the stranger at every few miles, as he 
 winds his wr.y through this uneven territory ; and 
 places for the worship of God abound with that 
 frequency which characterizes a moral and re- 
 flecting people, and with that variety of exterior 
 
 and canonical government which flows from un- 
 fettered liberty of conscience. In short, the 
 whole district is hourly exhibiting how much can 
 be done, in even a rugged country, and with a 
 severe climate, under the dominion of mild laws, 
 and where every man feels a direct interest in the 
 prosperity of a commonwealth, of which he knows 
 himself to form a part. The expedients of the 
 pioneers who first broke ground in the settlement 
 of this country, are succeeded by the permanent 
 improvements of the yeoman, who intends to 
 leave his remains to moulder under the sod which 
 he tills, or, perhaps, of the son, who, bom in the 
 land, piously wishes to linger around the grave 
 of his father. Only forty years* have passed 
 since this territory was a wilderness. 
 
 Very soon after the establishment of the in- 
 dependence of the States, by the peace of 1783, 
 the enterprise of their citizens was directed to a 
 development of the natural advantages of their 
 widely-extended dominions. Before the war of 
 the Revolution, the inhabited parts of the colony 
 of New York were limited to less than a tenth of 
 its possessions. A narrow belt of country, ex- 
 tending for a short distance on either side of the 
 Hudson, with a similar occupation of fifty miles 
 on the banks of the Mohawk, together with the 
 islands of Nassau and Staten, and a few insulated 
 settlements on chosen land along the margins of 
 streams, composed the country, which was then 
 inhabited by less than two hundred thousand 
 souls. Within the short period we have men- 
 tioned, the population has spread itself over five 
 degrees of latitude and seven of longitude, and 
 has swelled to a million and a half of inhabit- 
 ants,! w ^° are maintained in abundance, and 
 can look forward to ages before the evil day must 
 
 * The book was written in 1823. 
 
 t The population of New York is now (1831) quite 
 
 2 , 000 , 000 . 
 
8 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 arrive, when their possessions shall become un- 
 equal to their wants. 
 
 Our tale begins in 1793, about seven years af- 
 ter the commencement of one of the earliest of 
 those settlements, which have conduced to effect 
 that magical change in the power and condition 
 of the State, to which we have alluded. 
 
 It was near the setting of the sun, on a clear, 
 cold day in December, when a sleigh was moving 
 slowly up one of the mountains, in the district 
 we have described. The day had been fine for 
 the season, and but two or three large clouds, 
 whose color seemed brightened by the light re- 
 flected from the mass of snow that covered the 
 earth, floated in a sky of the purest blue. The 
 road wound along^the brow of a precipice, and 
 on one side was upheld by a foundation of logs, 
 piled one upon the other, while a narrow excava- 
 tion in the mountain, in the opposite direction, 
 had made a passage of sufficient width for the 
 ordinary travelling of that day. But logs, exca- 
 vation, and every thing that did not reach several 
 feet above the earth, lay alike buried beneath the 
 snow. A single track, barely wide enough to re- 
 ceive the sleigh,* denoted the route of the high- 
 way, and this was sunk nearly two feet below the 
 surrounding surface. In the vale* which lay at a 
 distance of several hundred feet lower, there was 
 what in the language of the country was called a 
 clearing, and all the usual improvements of a new 
 settlement ; these even extended up the hill to 
 the point where the road turned short and ran 
 across the level land, which lay on the summit of 
 the mountain ; but the summit itself remained in 
 forest. There was a glittering in the atmosphere, 
 as if it were filled with innumerable shining par- 
 ticles ; and the noble bay horses that drew the 
 sleigh were covered, in many parts, with a coat 
 of hoar-frost. The vapor from their nostrils was 
 seen to issue like smoke ; and every object in the 
 view, as well as every arrangement of the travel- 
 lers, denoted the depth of a winter in the moun- 
 tains. The harness, which was of a deep, dull 
 
 * Sleigh is the word used in every part of the United 
 States to denote a traineau. It is of local use in the west 
 of England, whence it is most probably derived by the 
 Americans. The latter draw a distinction between a sled, 
 or sledge, and a sleigh ; the sleigh being shod with metal. 
 Bleighs are also subdivided into two-horse and one-horse 
 sleighs. Of the latter, there are the cutter, with thills so 
 arranged as to permit the horse to travel in the side track ; 
 the “ pung,” or “ tow-pung,” which is driven with a pole ; 
 and the “ gumper,” a rude construction used for temporary 
 purposes, in the new countries. 
 
 Many of the American sleighs are elegant, though the 
 use of this mode of conveyance is much lessened with the 
 melioration of the climate, consequent on the clearing of 
 the forests. 
 
 black, differing from the glossy varnishing of the 
 present day, was ornamented with enormous 
 plates and buckles of brass, that shone like gold 
 in those transient beams of the sun, which found 
 their way obliquely through the tops of the trees. 
 Huge saddles, studded with nails, and fitted with 
 cloth that served as blankets to the shoulders of 
 the cattle, supported four high, square-topped 
 turrets, through which the stout reins led from 
 the mouths of the horses to the hands of the 
 driver, who was a negro, of apparently twenty 
 years of age. His face, which Nature had col- 
 ored with a glistening black, was now mottled 
 with the cold, and his large shining eyes filled 
 with tears ; a tribute to its power, that the keen 
 frosts of those regions always extracted from one 
 of his African origin. Still, there was a smiling 
 expression of good-humor in his happy counte- 
 nance, that was created by the thoughts of home, 
 and a Christmas fireside, with its Christmas frol- 
 ics. The sleigh was one of those large, comfort- 
 able, old-fashioned conveyances, which would ad- 
 mit a whole family within its bosom, but which 
 now contained only two passengers besides the 
 driver. The color of its outside was a modest 
 green, and that of its inside a fiery red. The lat- 
 ter was intended to convey the idea of heat in 
 that cold climate. Large buffalo-skins, trimmed 
 around the edges with red cloth, cut into festoons, 
 covered the back of the sleigh, and were spread 
 over its bottom, and drawn up around the feet 
 of the travellers — one of whom was a man of mid- 
 dle age, and the other a female, just entering up- 
 on womanhood. The former was of a large stat- 
 ure ; but the precautions he had taken to guard 
 against the cold left but little of his person ex- 
 posed to view. A great-coat, that was abundant- 
 ly ornamented by a profusion of furs, enveloped 
 the whole of his figure, excepting the head, which 
 was covered with a cap of marten-skins, lined 
 with morocco, the sides of which were made to 
 fall, if necessary, and were now drawn close over 
 the ears, and fastened beneath his chin with a 
 black ribbon. The top of the cap was surmount- 
 ed with the tail of the animal whose skin had 
 furnished the rest of the materials, which fell 
 back, not ungracefully, a few inches behind tbe 
 head. From beneath this mask were to be seen 
 part of a fine manly face, and particularly a pair 
 of expressive, large blue eyes, that promised ex- 
 traordinary intellect, covert humor, and great be- 
 nevolence. The form of his companion was liter- 
 ally hid beneath the garments she wore. There 
 were furs and silks peeping from under a large 
 camlet cloak, with a thick flannel lining, that, by 
 its cut and size,- was evidently intended for a mas 
 
THE JUDGE AND HIS DAUGHTER. 
 
 9 
 
 euline wearer. A huge hood of black silk, that 
 was quilted with down, concealed the whole of 
 her head, except at a small opening in front for 
 breath, through which occasionally sparkled a 
 pair of animated jet-black eyes. 
 
 Both the father and daughter (for such was 
 the connection between the two travellers) were 
 too much occupied with their reflections to break 
 a stillness, that received little or no interruption 
 from the easy gliding of the sleigh, by the sound 
 of their voices. The former was thinking of the 
 wife that had held this their only child to her bo- 
 Bom, when, four years before, she had reluctantly 
 consented to relinquish the society of her daughter, 
 in order that the latter might enjoy the advantages 
 of an education which the city of New York could 
 only offer at that period. A few months afterward 
 death had deprived him of the remaining com- 
 panion of his solitude ; but still he had enough 
 of real regard for his child, not to bring her into 
 the comparative wilderness in which he dwelt, until 
 the full period had expired to which he had 
 limited her juvenile labors. The reflections of 
 the daughter were less melancholy, and mingled 
 with a pleased astonishment at the novel scenery 
 she met at every turn in the road. 
 
 The mountain on which they were journey- 
 ing was covered with pines, that rose without a 
 branch some seventy or eighty feet, and which 
 frequently doubled that height, by the addition 
 of the tops. Through the innumerable vistas that 
 opened beneath the lofty trees, the eye could 
 penetrate, until it was met by a distant inequality 
 in the ground, or was stopped by a view of the 
 summit of the mountain, which lay on the oppo- 
 site side of the valley to which they were hasten- 
 ing. The dark trunks of the trees rose from the 
 pure white of the snow, in regularly-formed shafts, 
 until, at a great height, their branches shot forth 
 horizontal limbs, that were covered with the 
 meagre foliage of an evergreen, affording a mel- 
 ancholy contrast to the torpor of nature below. 
 To the travellers, there seemed to be no wind ; 
 but these pines waved majestically at their top- 
 most boughs, sending forth a dull, plaintive 
 sound, that was quite in consonance with the rest 
 of the melancholy scene. 
 
 The sleigh had glided for some distance along 
 the even surface, and the gaze of the female was 
 bent in inquisitive, and, perhaps, timid glances, 
 into the recesses of the forest, when a loud and 
 continued howling was heard, pealing under the 
 .ong arches of the woods, like the cry of a numer- 
 ous pack of hounds. The instant the sound 
 reached the ears of the gentleman, he cried aloud 
 to the black : 
 
 “ Hold up, Aggy ; there is old Hector ; I 
 should know his bay among ten thousand l Tho 
 Leather-stocking has put his hounds into the hills, 
 this clear day, and they have started their game. 
 There is a deer-traclc a few rods ahead ; and now, 
 Bess, if thou canst muster courage enough to 
 stand fire, I will give thee a saddle for thy Christ- 
 mas dinner.” 
 
 The black drew up, with a cheerful grin upon 
 his chilled features, and began thrashing his arm9 
 together, in order to restore the circulation to his 
 fingers, while the speaker stood erect, and, throw- 
 ing aside his outer covering, stepped from the 
 sleigh upon a bank of snow, which sustained his 
 weight without yielding. 
 
 In a few moments the speaker succeeded in 
 extricating a double-barrelled fowling-piece from 
 among a multitude of trunks and bandboxes. 
 After throwing aside the thick mittens which had 
 encased his hands, there now appeared a pair of 
 leather gloces tipped with fur, he examined his 
 priming, and was about to move forward, when 
 the light bounding noise of an animal plunging 
 through the woods was heard, and a fine buck 
 darted into the path, a short distance ahead of 
 him. The appearance of the animal was sudden, 
 and his flight inconceivably rapid ; but the travel 
 ler appeared to be too keen a sportsman to be dis- 
 concerted by either. As it came first into view 
 he raised the fowling-piece to his shoulder, and, 
 with a practised eye and steady hand, drew a 
 trigger. The deer dashed forward undaunted, and 
 apparently unhurt. Without lowering his piece, 
 the traveller turned its muzzle toward his victim, 
 and fired again. Neither discharge, however, 
 seemed to have taken effect. 
 
 The whole scene had passed with a rapidity 
 that confused the female, who was unconsciously 
 rejoicing in the escape of the buck, as he rather 
 darted like a meteor, than ran across the road, 
 when a sharp, quick sound struck her ear, quite 
 different from the full, round reports of her fa- 
 ther’s gun, but still sufficiently distinct to be 
 known as the concussion produced by fire-arms. 
 At the same instant that she heard this unexpect- 
 ed report, the buck sprang from the snow to a 
 great height in the air, and directly a second dis- 
 charge, similar in sound to the first, followed, 
 when the animal came to the earth, falling head- 
 long, and rolling over on the crust with its own 
 velocity. A loud shout was given by the unseen 
 marksman, and a couple of men instantly ap- 
 peared from behind the trunks of two of th9 
 pines, where they had evidently placed themselvej 
 in expectation of the passage of the deer. 
 
 “ Ha ! Natty, had I known you were in am. 
 
10 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 bush, I should not have fired,” cried the traveller, 
 moving toward the spot where the deer lay— near 
 to which he was followed by the delighted black, 
 with his sleigh ; “ but the sound of old Hector 
 was too exhilarating to be quiet ; though I hardly 
 think I struck him either.” 
 
 “ No — no — Judge,” returned the hunter, with 
 an inward chuckle, and with that look of exulta- 
 tion that indicates a consciousness of superior 
 skill, “ you burnt your powder only to warm your 
 nose this cold evening. Did ye think to stop a 
 full-grown buck, with Hector and the slut open 
 upon him within sound, with that pop-gun in your 
 hand ? There’s plenty of pheasants among the 
 swamps ; and the snow-birds are flying round 
 your own door, where you may feed them with 
 crumbs, and shoot them at pleasure, any day ; 
 but if you’re for a buck, or a little bear’s meat, 
 Judge, you’ll have to take the long rifle, with a 
 greased wadding, or you’ll waste more powder 
 than you’ll fill stomachs, I’m thinking.” 
 
 As the speaker concluded, he drew his bare 
 hand across the bottom of his nose, and again 
 opened his enormous mouth with a kind of inward 
 laugh. 
 
 “ The gun scatters well, Natty, and it has 
 killed a deer before now,” said the traveller, 
 smiling good-humoredly. “One barrel was 
 charged with buck-shot ; but the other was load- 
 ed for birds only. Here are two hurts; one 
 through the neck, and the other directly through 
 the heart. It is' by no means certain, Natty, but 
 I gave him one of the two.” 
 
 “ Let who will kill him,” said the hunter, rath- 
 er surlily, “ I suppose the creature is to be eaten.” 
 So saying, he drew a large knife from a leathern 
 sheath, which was stuck through his girdle, or 
 sash, and cut the throat of the animal. “ If there 
 are two balls through the deer, I would ask if 
 there wer’n’t two rifles fired— besides, who ever 
 saw such a ragged hole from a smooth-bore, as 
 this through the neck ?— and you will own your- 
 self, Judge, that the buck fell at the last shot, 
 which was sent from a truer and a younger hand 
 than your’n or mine either ; but, for my part, al- 
 though I am a poor man, I can live without the 
 venison, but I don’t love to give up my lawful 
 dues in a free country. Though, for the matter 
 of that, might often makes right here, as well as 
 in the old country, for what I can see.” 
 
 An air of sullen dissatisfaction pervaded the 
 manner of the hunter during the whole of his 
 speech ; yet he thought it prudent to utter the 
 close of the sentence in such an undertone as to 
 leave nothing audible but the grumbling sounds 
 of his voice. 
 
 “ Nay, Natty,” rejoined the traveller, with un- 
 disturbed good-humor, “ it is for the honor that I 
 contend. A few dollars will pay for the venison ; 
 but what will requite me for the lost honor of a 
 buck’s tail in my cap? Think, Natty, how I 
 should triumph over that quizzing dog, Dick 
 Jones, who has failed seven times already this 
 season, and has only brought in one woodchuck 
 and a few gray squirrels.” 
 
 “Ah I the game is becoming hard to find, 
 indeed, Judge, with your clearings and better- 
 ments,” said the old hunter, with a kind of com- 
 pelled resignation. “ The time has been, when I 
 have shot thirteen deer, without counting the 
 fa’ns, standing in the door of my own hut ! — and 
 for bear’s meat, if one wanted a ham or so, he 
 had only to watch a-nights, and he could shoot 
 one by moonlight, through the cracks of the logs ; 
 no fear of his oversleeping himself neither, for 
 the howling of the wolves was sartin to keep his 
 eyes open. There’s old Hector” — patting with 
 affection a tall hound, of black and yellow spots, 
 with white belly and legs, that just then came in 
 on the scent, accompanied by the slut he had 
 mentioned ; “ see where the wolves bit his throat, 
 the night I druv them from the venison that was 
 smoking on the chimbly top — that dog is more 
 to be trusted than many a Christian man ; for he 
 never forgets a friend, and loves the hand that 
 gives him bread.” 
 
 There was a peculiarity in the manner of the 
 hunter that attracted the notice of the young fe- 
 male, who had been a close and interested observ- 
 er of his appearance and equipments, from the 
 moment he came into view. He was tall, and so 
 meagre as to make him seem above even the six 
 feet that he actually stood in his stockings. On 
 his head, which was thinly covered with lank, 
 sandy hair, he wore a cap made of foxskin, re- 
 sembling in shape the one we have already de- 
 scribed, although much inferior in finish and 
 ornaments. His face was skinny, and thin almost 
 to emaciation ; but yet it bore no signs of dis- 
 ease— on the contrary, it had every indication 
 of the most robust and enduring health. The 
 cold and the exposure had, together, given it a col- 
 or of uniform red. His gray eyes were glancing un- 
 der a pair of shaggy brows, that overhung them 
 in long hairs of gray mingled with their natural 
 hue ; his scraggy neck was bare, and burnt to the 
 same tint with his face ; though a small part of a 
 shirt collar, made of the country check, was to 
 be seen above the overdress he wore. A kind 
 of coat, made of dressed deerskin, with the hair 
 on, was belted close to his lank body, by a girdle 
 of colored worsted. On his feet were deerskic 
 
AN UNFORTUNATE SHOT. 
 
 11 
 
 moccasins, ornamented with porcupines’ quills, 
 after the manner of the Indians, and his limbs 
 were guarded with long leggings of the same ma- 
 terial as the moccasins, which, gartering over the 
 knees of his tarnished buckskin breeches, had 
 obtained for him, among the settlers, the nick- 
 name of Leather-stocking. Over his left shoulder 
 was slung a belt of deerskin, from which depend- 
 ed an enormous ox-horn, so thinly scraped as to 
 discover the powder it contained. The larger 
 end was fitted ingeniously and securely with a 
 wooden bottom, and the other was stopped tight 
 by a little plug. A leathern pouch hung before 
 him, from which, as he concluded his last speech, 
 he took a small measure, and, filling it accurate- 
 ly with powder, he commenced reloading the rifle, 
 which, as its butt rested on the snow before him, 
 reached nearly to the top of his foxskin cap. 
 
 The traveller had been closely examining the 
 wounds during these movements, and now, with- 
 out heeding the ill-humor of the hunter’s man- 
 ner, he exclaimed : 
 
 “ I would fain establish a right, Natty, to the 
 honor of this death ; and surely if the hit in the 
 neck be mine, it is enough ; for the shot in the 
 heart was unnecessary — what we call an act of 
 supererogation, Leather-stocking.” 
 
 “ You may call it by what lamed name you 
 please, Judge,” said the hunter, throwing his rifle 
 across his left arm, and knocking up a brass lid 
 in the breech, from which he took a small piece 
 of greased leather, and, wrapping a ball in it, 
 forced them down by main strength on the pow- 
 der, where he continued to pound them while 
 speaking. “ It’s far easier to call names than to 
 shoot a buck on the spring ; but the cretur came 
 by his end from a younger hand than either 
 your’n or mine, as I said before.” 
 
 “ What say you, my friend,” cried the travel- 
 ler, turning pleasantly to Natty’s companion ; 
 
 “ shall we toss up this dollar for the honor, and 
 you keep the silver if you lose ; what say you, 
 friend ? ” 
 
 “ That I killed the deer,” answered the young 
 man, with a little haughtiness, as he leaned on 
 another long rifle, similar to that of Natty. 
 
 “ Here are two to one, indeed,” replied the 
 Judge, with a smile ; “lam outvoted — overruled, 
 as we say on the bench. There is Aggy, he can’t 
 vote, being a slave ; and Bess is a minor — so I 
 must even make the best of it. But you’ll sell 
 me the venison ; and the deuce is in it, but I 
 make a good story about its death.” 
 
 “The meat is none of mine to sell,” said 
 Leather-stocking, adopting a little of his compan- 
 ion’s hauteur; “ for my part, I have known animals | 
 
 travel days with shots in the neck, and I’m none 
 of them who’ll rob a man of his rightful dues ? ” 
 “ You are tenacious of your rights, this cold 
 evening, Natty,” returned the Judge, with uncon- 
 querable good-nature ; “ but what say you, young 
 man ; will three dollars pay you for the buck ? ” 
 “ First let us determine the question of right 
 to the satisfaction of us both,” said the youth, 
 firmly but respectfully, and with a pronunciation 
 and language vastly superior to his appearance ; 
 “ with how many shot did you load your gun ? ” 
 
 “ With five, sir,” said the Judge, a little struck 
 with the other’s manner ; “ are they not enough 
 to slay a buck like this ? ” 
 
 “ One would do it ; but,” moving to the tree 
 from behind which he had appeared, “ you know, 
 sir, you fired in this direction — here are four of 
 the bullets in the tree.” 
 
 The Judge examined the fresh marks in the 
 bark of the pine, and, shaking his head, said, with 
 a laugh : 
 
 “ You are making out the case against your- 
 self, my young advocate, where is the fifth ? ” 
 
 “ Here,” said the youth, throwing aside the 
 rough overcoat that he wore, and exhibiting a 
 hole in his under-garment, through which large 
 drops of blood were oozing. 
 
 “ Good God ! ” exclaimed the Judge with hor- 
 ror ; “ have I been trifling here about an empty 
 distinction, and a fellow-creature suffering from 
 
 my hands without a murmur? But hasten 
 
 quick— get into my sleigh— it is but a mile to 
 the village, where surgical aid can be obtained — 
 all shall be done at my expense, and thou shalt 
 live with me until thy wound is healed, ay, and 
 forever afterward.” 
 
 “ I thank you for your good intention, but I 
 must decline your offer. I have a friend who 
 would be uneasy were he to hear that I am hurt 
 and away from him. The injury is but slight, 
 and the bullet has missed the bones ; but I be- 
 lieve, sir, you will now admit my title to the 
 venison.” 
 
 “ Admit it ! ” repeated the agitated Judge ; “ I 
 here give thee a right to shoot deer, or bears, or 
 any thing thou pleasest in my woods, forever. 
 Leather-stocking is the only other man that I 
 have granted the same privilege to ; and the time 
 is coming when it will be of value. But I buy 
 your deer— here, this bill will pay thee, both for 
 thy shot and my own.” 
 
 The old hunter gathered his tall person up in- 
 to an air of pride, during this dialogue, but he 
 waited until the other had done speaking. 
 
 “ There’s them living who say that Nathaniel 
 Bumppo’s right to shoot on these hills is of oldei 
 
12 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 date than Marmaduke Temple’s right to forbid 
 him,” he said. ‘ But if there’s a law about it at 
 all, though who ever heard of a law that a man 
 shouldn’t kill deer where he pleased! — but if 
 there is a law at all, it should be to keep people 
 from the use of smooth-bores. A body never 
 knows where his lead will fly, when he pulls the 
 trigger of one of them uncertain firearms.” 
 
 Without attending to the soliloquy of Natty, 
 the youth bowed his head silently to the offer of 
 the bank-note, and replied : 
 
 “ Excuse me ; I have need of the venison.” 
 
 “ But this will buy you many deer,” said the 
 Judge; “take it, I entreat you,” and, lowering 
 his voice to a whisper, he added — “ it is for a 
 hundred dollars.” 
 
 For an instant only the youth seemed to hesi- 
 tate, and then, blushing even through the high 
 color that the cold had given to his cheeks, as if 
 with inward shame at his own weakness, he again 
 declined the offer. 
 
 During this scene the female arose, and, re- 
 gardless of the cold air, she threw back the hood 
 which concealed her features, and now spoke, 
 with great earnestness. 
 
 “ Surely, surely — young man, — sir — you would 
 not pain my father so much as to have him think 
 that he leaves a fellow-creature in this wilderness, 
 whom his own hand has injured. I entreat you 
 will go with us, and receive medical aid.” 
 
 Whether his wound became more painful, or 
 there was something irresistible in the voice and 
 manner of the fair pleader for her father’s feelings, 
 we know not; but the distance of the young 
 man’s manner was sensibly softened by this ap- 
 peal, and he stood in apparent doubt, as if reluc- 
 tant to comply with, and yet unwilling to refuse 
 her request. The Judge, for such, being his office, 
 must in future be his title, watched, with no little 
 interest, the display of this singular contention 
 in the feelings of the youth; and, advancing, 
 kindly took his hand, and, as he pulled him gen- 
 tly toward the sleigh, urged him to enter it. 
 
 “ There is no human aid nearer than Temple- 
 ton,” he said, “ and the hut of Natty is full three 
 miles from this — come — come, my young friend, 
 go with us, and let the new doctor look to this 
 shoulder of thine. Here is Natty will take the 
 tidings of thy welfare to thy friend ; and, shouldst 
 thou require it. thou shalt return home in the 
 morning.” 
 
 The young man succeeded in extricating his 
 hand from the warm grasp of the Judge, but he 
 continued to gaze on the face of the female, who, 
 regardless of the cold, was still standing with her 
 flue features exposed, which expressed feelings 
 
 that eloquently seconded the request of her father 
 Leather-stocking stood, in the mean time, leaning 
 upon his long rifle, with his head turned a little 
 to one side, as if engaged in sagacious musing ; 
 when, having apparently satisfied his doubts, by 
 revolving the subject in his mind, he broke si- 
 lence. 
 
 “ It may be best to go, lad, after all ; for, if 
 the shot hangs under the skin, my hand is get- 
 ting too old to be cutting into human flesh, as I 
 once used to. Though some thirty years agone, 
 in the old war, when I was out under Sir William, 
 
 I travelled seventy miles alone in the howling 
 wilderness, with a rifle bullet in my thigh, and 
 then cut it out with my own jackknife. Old In- 
 dian John knows the time well. I met him with 
 a party of the Delawares, on the trail of the Iro- 
 quois, who had been down and taken five scalps 
 on the Schoharie. But I made a mark on the 
 red-skin that I’ll warrant he carried to his grave ! 
 
 I took him on his posteerum, saving the lady’s 
 presence, as he got up from the ambushment, 
 and rattled three buck-shot into his naked hide, 
 so close, that you might have laid a broad joe 
 upon them all — ” here Natty stretched out his 
 long neck, and straightened his body, as he 
 opened his mouth, which exposed a single tusk 
 of yellow bone, while his eyes, his face, even his 
 whole frame seemed to laugh, although no sound 
 was emitted, except a kind of thick hissing, as he 
 inhaled his breath in quavers. “ I had lost my 
 bullet mould in crossing the Oneida outlet, and 
 had to make shift with the buck-shot ; but the 
 rifle was true, and didn’t scatter like your two- 
 legged thing there, Judge, which don’t do, I find, 
 to hunt in company with.” 
 
 Natty’s apology to the delicacy of the young 
 lady was unnecessary, fov, while he was speaking, 
 she was too much employed in helping her father 
 to remove certain articles of baggage to hear him. 
 Unable to resist the kind urgency of the travellers 
 any longer, the youth, though still with an unac- 
 countable reluctance, suffered himself to be per- 
 suaded to enter the sleigh. The black, with the aid 
 of his master, threw the buck across the baggage, 
 and, entering the vehicle themselves, the Judge 
 invited the Jiunter to do so likewise. 
 
 “ No, no,” said the old man, shaking his head ; 
 “ I have work to do at home this Christmas eve 
 —drive on with the boy, and let your doctor look 
 to the shoulder ; though, if he will only cut out 
 the shot, I have yarbs that will heal the wound 
 quicker than all his foreign ’intments.” He 
 turned, and was about to move off, when, sudden- 
 ly recollecting himself, he again faced the party , 
 and added — “ If you see any thing of Indian 
 
MARMADUKE TEMPLE’S ANCESTORS. 
 
 13 
 
 John, about the foot of the lake, you had better 
 take him with you, and let him lend the doctor a 
 hand ; for, old as he is, he is curious at cuts and 
 bruises, and it’s likelier than not he’ll be in with 
 brooms to sweep your Christmas ha’arths.” 
 
 “ Stop, stop,” cried the youth, catching the 
 arm of the black as he prepared to urge his hor- 
 ses forward ; “ Natty — you need say nothing of 
 the shot, nor of where I am going — remember, 
 Natty, as you love me.” 
 
 “ Trust old Leather-stocking,” returned the 
 hunter, significantly ; “ he hasn’t lived fifty years 
 in the wilderness, and not larnt from the savages 
 how to hold his tongue — trust to me, lad ; and 
 remember old Indian John.” 
 
 “And, Natty,” said the youth, eagerly, still 
 holding the black by the arm, “ I will just get 
 the shot extracted, and bring you up to-night a 
 quarter of the buck for the Christmas dinner.” 
 
 He was interrupted by the hunter, who held 
 up his finger with an expressive gesture for si- 
 lence. He then moved softly along the margin 
 of the road, keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed on 
 the branches of a pine. When he had obtained 
 such a position as he wished, he stopped, and, cock- 
 ing his rifle, threw one leg far behind him, and, 
 stretching his left arm to its utmost extent along 
 the barrel of his piece, he began slowly to raise 
 its muzzle in a line with the straight trunk of 
 the tree. The eyes of the group in the sleigh 
 naturally preceded the movement of the rifle, 
 and they soon discovered the object of Natty’s 
 aim. On a small dead branch of the pine, which, 
 at the distance of seventy feet from the ground, 
 shot out horizontally, immediately beneath the 
 living members of the tree, sat a bird, that in 
 the vulgar language of the country was indis- 
 criminately called a pheasant or a partridge. In 
 size, it was but little smaller than a common barn- 
 yard fowl. The baying of the dogs, and the con- 
 versation that had passed near the root 'of the 
 tree on which it was perched, had alarmed the 
 bird, which was now drawn up near the body of 
 the pine, with a head and neck so erect, as to 
 form nearly a straight line with its legs. As soon 
 as the rifle bore on the victim, Natty drew his 
 trigger, and the partridge fell from its height with 
 a force that buried it in the snow. 
 
 “ Lie down, you old villain,” exclaimed Leath- 
 er-stocking, shaking his ramrod at Hector as he 
 bounded toward the foot of the tree, “ lie down, I 
 say.” The dog obeyed, and Natty proceeded 
 with great rapidity, though with the nicest accu- 
 racy, to reload his piece. When this was ended, 
 he took up his game, and, showing it to the party 
 without a head, he cried — “ Here is a titbit for 
 
 an old man’s Christmas — never mind the venison, 
 boy, and remember Indian John ; his yarbs are 
 better than all the foreign ’intmcnts. Here, 
 Judge,” holding up the bird again, “ do you think 
 a smooth-bore would pick game off their roost, 
 and not ruffle a feather ? ” The old man gave 
 another of his remarkable laughs, which partook 
 so largely of exultation, mirth, and irony, and, 
 shaking his head, he turned, with his rifle at a 
 trail, and moved into the forest with steps that 
 were between a walk and a trot. At each move- 
 ment he made, his body lowered several inches, 
 his knees yielding with an inclination inward ; 
 but, as the sleigh turned at a bend in the road, 
 the youth cast his eyes in quest of his old com- 
 panion, and he saw that he was already nearly 
 concealed by the trunks of the trees, while his 
 dogs were following quietly in his footsteps, oc- 
 casionally scenting the deer track, that they 
 seemed to know instinctively was now of no fur- 
 ther use to them. Another jerk was given to the 
 sleigh, and Leather-stocking was hid from view. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 “ All places that the eye of Heaven visits 
 Are to a wise man ports and happy havens : 
 
 Think not the king did banish thee, 
 
 But thou the king.” 
 
 Bichaed II. 
 
 An ancestor of Marmaduke Temple had, about 
 one hundred and twenty years before the com- 
 mencement of our tale, come to the colony of 
 Pennsylvania, a friend and co-religionist of its 
 great patron. Old Marmaduke, for this formi- 
 dable prenomen was a kind of appellative to the 
 race, brought with him, to that asylum of the 
 persecuted, an abundance of the good things of 
 this life. He became the master of many thou- 
 sands of acres of uninhabited territory, and the 
 supporter of many a score of dependents. He 
 lived greatly respected for his piety, and not a 
 little distinguished as a sectary; was intrusted 
 by his associates with many important political 
 stations ; and died just in time to escape the 
 knowledge of his own poverty. It was his lot to 
 share the fortune of most of those who brought 
 wealth with them into the new settlements of the 
 middle colonies. 
 
 The consequence of an emigrant into these 
 provinces was generally to be ascertained by the 
 number of his white servants or dependents, and 
 the nature of the public situations that he held. 
 Taking this rule as a guide, the ancestor of ouj 
 Judge must have been a man of no little note. 
 
14 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 It is, however, a subject of curious inquiry at 
 Jhe present day, to look into the brief records of 
 that early period, and observe how regular, and 
 with few exceptions how inevitable, were the 
 gradations, on the one hand, of the masters to 
 poverty, and on the other, of their servants to 
 wealth. Accustomed to ease, and unequal to the 
 struggles incident to an infant society, the afflu- 
 ent emigrant was barely enabled to maintain his 
 own rank, by the weight of his personal superior- 
 ity and acquirements ; but, the moment that his 
 head was laid in the grave, his indolent and com- 
 paratively uneducated offspring were compelled to 
 yield precedency to the more active energies of a 
 class whose exertions had been stimulated by 
 necessity. This is a very common course of 
 things, even in the present state of the Union ; 
 but it was peculiarly the fortunes of the two ex- 
 tremes of society, in the peaceful and unenter- 
 prising colonies of Pennsylvania and New Jer- 
 sey. 
 
 The posterity of Marmaduke did not escape 
 the common lot of those who depend rather on 
 their hereditary possessions than on their own 
 powers ; and in the third generation they had de- 
 scended to a point, below which, in this happy 
 country, it is barely possible for honesty, intel- 
 lect, and sobriety to fall. The same pride of fam- 
 ily that had, by its self-satisfied indolence, con- 
 duced to aid their fall, now became a principle to 
 stimulate them to endeavor to rise again. The 
 feeling, from being morbid, was changed to a 
 healthful and active desire to emulate the charac- 
 ter, the condition, and, peradventure, the wealth 
 of their ancestors also. It was the father of our 
 new acquaintance, the Judge, who first began to 
 reascend in the scale of society ; and in this un- 
 dertaking he was not a little assisted by a mar- 
 riage, which aided in furnishing the means of ed- 
 ucating his only son in a rather better manner 
 than the low state of the common schools in 
 Pennsylvania could promise ; or than had been 
 the practice in the family, for the two or three 
 preceding generations. 
 
 At the school where the reviving prosperity 
 of his father was enabled to maintain him, young 
 Marmaduke formed an intimacy with a youth 
 whose years were about equal to his own. This 
 was a fortunate connection for our Judge, and 
 paved the way to most of his future elevation in 
 life. 
 
 There was not only great wealth, but high 
 court interest, among the connections of Edward 
 Effingham. They were one of the few families 
 then resident in the colonies, who thought it a 
 degradation to its members to descend to the pur- 
 
 suits of commerce ; and who never emerged from 
 the privacy of domestic life, unless to preside in 
 the councils of the colony, or to bear arms in her 
 defence. The latter had, from youth, been the 
 only employment of Edward’s father. Military 
 rank under the crown of Great Britain, was at- 
 tained with much longer probation, and by much 
 more toilsome services, sixty years ago, than at 
 the present time. Years were passed without 
 murmuring, in the subordinate grades of the ser- 
 vice ; and those soldiers who were stationed in 
 the colonies felt, when they obtained the com- 
 mand of a company, that they were entitled to re- 
 ceive the greatest deference from the peaceful 
 occupants of the soil. Any one of our readers 
 who has occasion to cross the Niagara, may eas- 
 ily observe not only the self-importance, but the 
 real estimation enjoyed by the humblest repre- 
 sentative of the crown, even in that polar region 
 of royal sunshine. Such, and at no very distant 
 period, was the respect paid to the military in 
 these States, where now, happily, no symbol of 
 war is ever seen, unless at the free and fearless 
 voice of their people. When, therefore, the fa- 
 ther of Marmaduke’s friend, after forty years’ ser- 
 vice, retired with the rank of major, maintaining 
 in his domestic establishment a comparative splen- 
 dor, he became a man of the first consideration 
 in his native colony — which was that of New 
 York. He had served with fidelity and courage, 
 and having been, according to the custom of the 
 provinces, intrusted with commands much supe- 
 rior to those to which he was entitled by rank, 
 with reputation also. When Major Effingham 
 yielded to the claims of age, he retired with dig- 
 nity, refusing his half-pay or any other compen- 
 sation for services that he felt he could no lon- 
 ger perform. 
 
 The ministry proffered various civil offices, 
 which yielded not only honor but profit ; but he 
 declined them all, with the chivalrous indepen- 
 dence and loyalty that had marked his character 
 through life. The veteran soon caused this act 
 of patriotic disinterestedness to be followed bj 
 another of private munificence, that, howevei 
 little it accorded with prudence, was in perfect 
 conformity with the simple integrity of his own 
 views. 
 
 The friend of Marmaduke was his only child ; 
 and to this son, on his marriage with a lady to 
 whom the father was particularly partial, the 
 Major gave a complete conveyance of his whole 
 estate, consisting of moneys in the funds, a town 
 and country residence, sundry valuable farms in 
 the old parts of the colony, and large tracts of 
 wild land in the new— in this manner throwing 
 
MAJOR EFFINGHAM. 
 
 himself upon the filial piety of his child for his 
 own future maintenance. Major Effingham, in 
 declining the liberal offers of the British minis- 
 try, had subjected himself to the suspicion of 
 having attained his dotage, by all those who 
 throng the avenues to court patronage, even in 
 the remotest corners of that vast empire ; but, 
 when he thus voluntarily stripped himself of his 
 great personal wealth, the remainder of the com- 
 munity seemed instinctively to adopt the conclu- 
 sion also, that he had reached a second child- 
 hood. This may explain the fact of his impor- 
 tance rapidly declining ; and, if privacy was his 
 object, the veteran had soon a free indulgence of 
 his wishes. Whatever views the world might 
 entertain of this act of the Major, to himself and 
 to his child it seemed no more than a natural 
 gift by a father, of those immunities which he 
 could no longer enjoy or improve, to a son, who 
 was formed, both by nature and education, to do 
 both. The younger Effingham did not object to 
 the amount of the donation ; for he felt that 
 while his ^ parent reserved a moral control over 
 his actions, he was relieving himself from a fati- 
 guing burden : such, indeed, was the confidence 
 existing between them, that to neither did it seem 
 any thing more than removing money from one 
 pocket to another. 
 
 One of the first acts of the young man, on 
 coming into possession of his wealth, was to seek 
 his early friend, with a view to offer any assist- 
 ance that it was now in his power to bestow. 
 
 The death of Marmaduke’s father, and the 
 consequent division of his small estate, rendered 
 such an offer extremely acceptable to the young 
 Pennsylvanian : he felt his own powers, and saw, 
 not only the excellences, but the foibles, in the 
 character of his friend. Effingham was by na- 
 ture indolent, confiding, and at times impetuous 
 and indiscreet; but Marmaduke was uniformly 
 equable, penetrating, and full of activity and 
 enterprise. To the latter, therefore, the assist- 
 ance, or rather connection, that was proffered to 
 Mm, seemed to produce a mutual advantage. It 
 (vas cheerfully accepted, and the arrangement of 
 its conditions was easily completed. A mercan- 
 tile house was established in the metropolis of 
 Pennsylvania, with the avails of Mr. Effingham’s 
 personal property; all, or nearly all, of°which 
 vas put into the possession of Temple, who was 
 he only ostensible proprietor in the concern, 
 rhile, in secret, the other was entitled to an equal 
 participation in the profits. This connection was 
 hus kept private for two reasons ; one of which, 
 a the freedom of their intercourse, was frankly 
 Wed to Marmaduke, while the other continued 
 
 15 
 
 profoundly hid in the bosom of his friend. The 
 last was nothing more than pride. To the descend- 
 ant of a line of soldiers, commerce, even in that 
 indirect manner, seemed a degrading pursuit; 
 but an insuperable obstacle to the disclosure 
 existed in the prejudices of his father. 
 
 We have already said that Major Effingham 
 had served as a soldier with reputation. On one 
 occasion, while in command on the western fron- 
 tier of Pennsylvania, against a league of the 
 French and Indians, not only his glory, but the 
 safety of himself and his troops were jeoparded, 
 by the peaceful policy of that colony. To the 
 soldier, this was an unpardonable offence. He 
 was fighting in their defence— he knew that the 
 mild principles of this little nation of practical 
 Christians would be disregarded by their subtle 
 and malignant enemies; and he felt the injury 
 the more deeply, because he saw that the avowed 
 object of the colonists, in withholding their suc- 
 cors, would only have a tendency to expose his 
 command, without preserving the peace. The 
 soldier succeeded, after a desperate conflict, in 
 extricating himself, with a handful of his men, 
 from their murderous enemy ; but he never for- 
 gave the people who had exposed him to a 
 danger which they left him to combat alone. It 
 was in vain to tell him that they had no agency 
 in his being placed on their frontier at all ; it 
 was evidently for their benefit that he had been 
 so placed, and it was their “religious duty,” so 
 the Major always expressed it, “it was their 
 religious duty to have supported him.” 
 
 At no time was the old soldier an admirer of 
 the peaceful disciples of Fox. Their disciplined 
 habits, both of mind and body, had endowed 
 them with great physical perfection; and the 
 eye of the veteran was apt to scan the fair pro. 
 portions and athletic frames of the colonists, 
 with a look that seemed to utter volumes of con- 
 tempt for their moral imbecility. He was also 
 a little addicted to the expression of a belief, that, 
 where there was so great an observance of the 
 externals of religion, there could not be much of 
 the substance. It is not our task to explain 
 what is, or what ought to be, the substance of 
 Christianity, but merely to record in this place 
 the opinions of Major Effingham. 
 
 Knowing the sentiments of the father in re- 
 lation to this people, it was no wonder that the 
 son hesitated to avow his connection with, nay, 
 even his dependence on the integrity of, a 
 Quaker. 
 
 It has been said that Marmaduke deduced hm 
 origin from the contemporaries and friends of 
 Penn. His father had married without the oalt 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 16 
 
 of the church to which he belonged, and had, in 
 this manner, forfeited some of the privileges of 
 his offspring. Still, as young Marmaduke was 
 educated in a colony and society, where even the 
 ordinary intercourse between friends was tinc- 
 tured with the aspect of this mild religion, his 
 habits and language were somewhat marked by 
 its peculiarities. His own marriage at a future 
 day with a lady without, not only the pale, but 
 the influence of this sect of religionists, had a 
 tendency, it is true, to weaken his early impres- 
 sions; still he retained them in some degree to 
 the hour of his death, and was observed uni- 
 formly, when much interested or agitated, to 
 speak in the language of his youth. But this is 
 anticipating our tale. 
 
 When Marmaduke first became the partner 
 of young Effingham, he was quite the Quaker in 
 externals: and it was too dangerous an experi- 
 ment for the son to think of encountering the 
 prejudices of the father on this subject. The 
 connection, therefore, remained a profound secret 
 to all but those who were interested in it. 
 
 For a few years, Marmaduke directed the 
 commercial operations of his house with a pru- 
 dence and sagacity that afforded rich returns. 
 
 He married the lady we have mentioned, who was 
 the mother of Elizabeth, and the visits of his 
 friend were becoming more frequent. . There was 
 a speedy prospect of removing the veil from their 
 intercourse, as its advantages became each hour 
 more apparent to Mr. Effingham, when the troub- 
 les that preceded the war of the Revolution ex- 
 tended themselves to an alarming degree. 
 
 Educated in the most dependent loyalty, Mr. 
 Effingham had, from the commencement of the 
 disputes between the colonists and the crown, 
 warmly maintained what he believed to be the 
 just prerogatives of his prince ; while, on the 
 other hand, the clear head and independent min 
 of Temple had induced him to espouse the cause 
 of the people. Both might have been influenced 
 by early impressions ; for, if the son of the loyal 
 and gallant soldier bowed in implicit obedience 
 to the will of his sovereign, the descendant of the 
 persecuted follower of Penn looked back, with a 
 little bitterness, to the unmerited wrongs that 
 had been heaped upon his ancestors. 
 
 This difference in opinion had long been a 
 subject of amicable dispute between them ; but, 
 latterly, the contest was getting to be too impor- 
 tant to admit of trivial discussions on the part of 
 Marmaduke, whose acute discernment was already 
 catching faint glimmerings of the important events 
 that were in embryo. The sparks of dissension 
 goon kindled into a blaze; and the colonies, or 
 
 rather, as they quickly declared themselves, tub 
 States, became a scene of strife and bloodshed 
 for years. 
 
 A short time before the battle of Lexington, 
 
 Mr. Effingham, already a widower, transmitted to 
 Marmaduke, for safe-keeping, all his valuable ef- 
 fects and papers ; and left the colony without his 
 father. The war had, however, scarcely com- 
 menced in earnest, when he reappeared in New i 
 York, wearing the livery of his king ; and, in a 
 short time, he took the field at the head of a pro- i 
 
 vincial corps. In the mean time, Marmaduke had i 
 
 completely committed himself in the cause, as it 
 was then called, of the rebellion. Of course, all 
 intercourse between the friends ceased— on the •< 
 part of Colonel Effingham it was unsought, and 
 on that of Marmaduke there was a cautious re- i 
 serve. It soon became necessary for the latter j 
 to abandon the capital of Philadelphia ; but he jj 
 had taken the precaution to remove the whole of j 
 his effects beyond the reach of the royal forces, 
 including the papers of his friend also. There he |J 
 continued serving his country during the strug- I 
 gle, in various civil capacities, and always with I 
 dignity and usefulness. While, however, he dis- 
 charged his functions with credit and fidelity, 
 Marmaduke never seemed to lose sight of his own 
 interests ; for, when the estates of the adherents j 
 of the crown fell under the hammer, by the acts 
 of confiscation, he appeared in New York, and 
 became the purchaser of extensive possessions at 
 comparatively low prices. 
 
 It is true that Marmaduke, by thus purchas- 
 ing estates that had been wrested by violence 
 from others, rendered himself obnoxious to the 
 censures of that sect which, at the same time 
 that it discards its children from a full participa- 
 tion in the family union, seems ever unwilling to 
 abandon them entirely to the world. But either 
 his success, or the frequency of the transgression 
 in others, soon wiped off this slight stain from his 
 character ; and, although there were a few who, 
 dissatisfied with their own fortunes, or conscious 
 of their own demerits, would make dark hints con- 
 cerning the sudden prosperity of the unportioned 
 Quaker, yet his services, and possibly his wealth, 
 soon drove the recollection of these vague conjee- 
 
 tures from men’s minds. 
 
 When the war ended, and the independence 
 of the States was acknowledged, Mr. Temple 
 turned his attention from the pursuit of com- 
 merce, which was then fluctuating and uncertain 
 to the settlement of those tracts of land which b< 
 had purchased. Aided by a good deal of money 
 and directed by the suggestions of a strong am 
 practical reason, his enterprise throve to a degre 
 
1 ? 
 
 THE WOUNDED STRANGER. 
 
 that the climate and rugged face of the country 
 which he selected would seem to forbid. His 
 property increased in a tenfold ratio, and he was 
 already ranked among the most wealthy and im- 
 portant of his countrymen. To inherit this wealth 
 he had but one child— the daughter whom we 
 have introduced to the reader, and whom he was 
 now conveying from school to preside over a 
 household that had too long wanted a mistress. 
 
 When the district in which his estates lay had 
 become sufficiently populous to be set off as a 
 county, Mr. Temple had, according to the custom 
 of the new settlements, been selected to fill its 
 highest judicial station. This might make a 
 Templar smile ; but, in addition to the apology of 
 necessity, there is ever a dignity in talents and 
 experience that is commonly sufficient, in any 
 station, for the protection of its possessor ; and 
 Marmaduke, more fortunate in his native clear- 
 ness of mind than the judge of King Charles, not 
 only decided right, but was generally able to give 
 a very good reason for it. At all events, such 
 was the universal practice of the country and the 
 times ; and Judge Temple, so far from ranking 
 among the lowest of his judicial contemporaries 
 to the courts of the new counties, felt himself, 
 and was unanimously acknowleged to be, among 
 the first. 
 
 We shall here close this brief explanation of 
 the history and character of some of our person- 
 ages, leaving them in future to speak and act for 
 themselves. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 “ AU that thou see’st is Nature’s handiwork ; 
 
 Those rocks that upward throw their mossy brows 
 Like castled pinnacles of elder times ; 
 
 These venerable stems, that slowly rock 
 Their towering branches in the wintry gale ; 
 
 That field of frost, which glitters in the sun,’ 
 
 Mocking the whiteness of a marble breast I— 
 
 Yet man can mar such works with his rude taste, 
 
 Like some sad spoiler o f a virgin’s fame.” 
 
 Duo. 
 
 Some little while elapsed ere Marmaduke Tem- 
 ple was sufficiently recovered from his agitation 
 to scan the person of his new companion. He 
 aow observed that he was a youth of some two- 
 " three-and-twenty years of age, and rather 
 above the middle height. Further observation 
 vas prevented by the rough overcoat which was 
 pelted close to his form by a worsted sash, much 
 ike the one worn by the old hunter. The eyes 
 »f the Judge, after resting a moment on the figure 
 the stranger, were raised to a scrutiny of his 
 
 countenance. There had been a look of care, 
 visible in the features of the youth, when he first 
 entered the sleigh, that had not only attracted 
 the notice of Elizabeth, but which she had been 
 much puzzled to interpret. His anxiety seemed 
 the strongest when he was enjoining his old com- 
 panion to secrecy ; and even when he had decid- 
 ed, and was rather passively suffering himself to 
 be conveyed to the village, the expression of his 
 eyes by no means indicated any great degree 
 of self-satisfaction at the step. But the lines° of 
 an uncommonly prepossessing countenance were 
 gradually becoming composed ; and he now sat 
 silent, and apparently musing. The Judge gazed 
 at him for some time with earnestness, and then 
 smiling, as if at his own forgetfulness, he said : 
 
 # “ 1 believe, my young friend, that terror has 
 driven you from my recollection ; your face is 
 very familiar, and yet for the honor of a score of 
 bucks’ tails in my cap, I could not tell your 
 name.” 
 
 I came into the country but three weeks 
 since,” returned the youth, coldly, “and I under- 
 stand you have been absent twice that time.” 
 
 “ It will be five to-morrow. Yet your face is 
 one that I have seen ; though it would not be 
 strange, such has been my affright, should I see 
 thee in thy winding-sheet walking by mv bed- 
 side to-night. What say’st thou, Bess ? Am I 
 compos mentis or not?— Fit to charge a grand 
 jury , or, what is just now of more pressing neces- 
 sity, able to do the honors of Christmas eve in 
 the hall of Templeton ? ” 
 
 “ More able to do either, my dear father,” 
 said a playful voice from under the ample inclos- 
 ures of the hood, “ than to kill deer with a smooth- 
 bore.” A short pause followed, and the same 
 voice, but in a different accent, continued : “ We 
 shall have good reasons for our thanksgiving to- 
 night, on more accounts than one.” 
 
 The horses soon reached a point where they 
 seemed to know by instinct that the journey was 
 nearly ended, and, bearing on the bits as they 
 tossed their heads, they rapidly drew the sleigh 
 over the level land which lay On the top of the 
 mountain, and soon came to the point where the 
 road descended suddenly, but circuitously, into 
 the valley. 
 
 The Judge was roused from his reflections, 
 when he saw the four columns of smoke which 
 floated above his own chimneys. As house, vil. 
 lage, and valley burst on his sight, he exclaimed 
 cheerfully to his daughter : 
 
 “ See > B ess, there is thy resting place for lifel 
 —And thine, too, young man, if thou wilt con- 
 sent to dwell with us.” 
 
18 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 The eyes of his auditors involuntarily met; 
 and, if the color that gathered over the face of 
 Elizabeth was contradicted by the cold expres- 
 sion of her eye, the ambiguous smile that again 
 played about the lips of the stranger, seemed 
 equally to deny the probability of his consenting 
 to form one of this family group. The scene was 
 me, however, which might easily warm a heart 
 less given to philanthropy than that of Marma- 
 duke Temple. 
 
 The side of the mountain on which our travel- 
 lers were journeying, though not absolutely per- 
 pendicular, was so steep as to render great care 
 necessary in descending the rude and narrow 
 path, which, in that early day, wound along the 
 precipices. The negro reined in his impatient 
 steeds, and time was given Elizabeth to dwell on 
 a scene which was so rapidly altering under the 
 hands of man, that it only resembled, in its out- 
 lines, the picture she had so often studied with 
 delight in childhood. Immediately beneath them 
 lay a seeming plain, glittering without inequality, 
 and buried in mountains. The latter were pre- 
 cipitous, especially on the side of the plain, and 
 chiefly in forest. Here and there the hills fell 
 away in long, low points, and broke the sameness 
 of the outline ; or setting to the long and wide 
 field of snow, which, without house, tree, fence, 
 or any other fixture, resembled so much spotless 
 cloud settled to the earth. A few dark and mov- 
 ing spots were, however, visible on the even sur- 
 face, which the eye of Elizabeth knew to be so 
 many sleighs going their several ways, to or from 
 the village. On the western border of the plain, 
 the mountains, though equally high, were less 
 precipitous, and, as they receded, opened into ir- 
 regular valleys and glens, or were formed into 
 terraces and hollows that admitted of cultivation. 
 Although the evergreens still held dominion over 
 many of the hills that rose on this side of the val- 
 ley, yet the undulating outlines of the distant 
 mountains, covered with forests of beech and ma- 
 ple, gave a relief to the eye, and the promise of a 
 kinder soil. Occasionally spots of white were 
 discoverable amidst the forests of the opposite 
 hills, which announced, by the smoke that curled 
 over the tops of the trees, the habitations of man, 
 and the commencement of agriculture. These 
 spots were sometimes, by the aid of united labor / 
 enlarged into what were called settlements, but 
 more frequently were small and insulated ; though 
 bo rapid were the changes, and so persevering 
 the labors of those who had cast their fortunes 
 on the success of the enterprise, that it was not 
 difficult for the imagination of Elizabeth to con- 
 ceive they were enlarging under her eye, while she 
 
 was gazing, in mute wonder, at the alterations that 
 a few short years had mr.de in the aspect of the 
 country. The points on the western side of this 
 remarkable plain, on which no plant had taken 
 root, were both larger and more numerous than 
 those on its eastern, and one in particular thrust 
 itself forward in such a manner as to form beau- 
 tifully-curved bays of snow on either side. On 
 its extreme end an oak stretched forward, as if 
 to overshadow, with its branches, a spot which 
 its roots were forbidden to enter. It had re- 
 leased itself from the thraldom that a growth of 
 centuries had imposed on the branches of the sur- 
 rounding forest trees, and threw its gnarled and 
 fantastic arms abroad, in the wildness of liber- 
 ty. A dark spot of a few acres in extent at the 
 southern extremity of this beautiful flat, and im- 
 mediately under the feet of our travellers, alone 
 showed by its rippling surface, and the vapors 
 which exhaled from it, that what at first might 
 seem a plain, was one of the mountain lakes, 
 locked in the frosts of winter. A narrow current 
 rushed impetuously from its bosom at the open 
 place we have mentioned, and was to be traced, 
 for miles, as it wound its way toward the south 
 through the real valley, by its borders of hem- 
 lock and, pine, and by the vapor which arose from 
 its warmer surface into the chill atmosphere of 
 the hills. The banks of this lovely basin, at its 
 outlet, or southern end, were steep but not high ; 
 and in that direction the land continued, far as 
 the eye could reach, a narrow but graceful val- 
 ley, along which the settlers had scattered their 
 humble habitations, with a profusion that be- 
 spoke the quality of the soil, and the compara- 
 tive facilities of intercourse 
 
 Immediately on the bank of the lake and at 
 its foot, stood the village of Templeton. It con- 
 sisted of some fifty buildings, including those of 
 every description, chiefly built of wood, and which, 
 in their architecture, bore no great marks of taste, 
 but which also, by the unfinished appearance of 
 most of the dwellings, indicated the hasty man- 
 ner of their construction. To the eye, they pre- 
 sented a variety of colors. A few were white in 
 both front and rear, but more bore that expen- 
 sive color on their fronts only, while their eco- 
 nomical but ambitious owners had covered the 
 remaining sides of the edifices with a dingy red. 
 One or two were slowly assuming the russet of 
 age ; while the uncovered beams that were to be 
 seen through the broken windows of their second 
 stories, showed that either the taste or the van- 
 ity of their proprietors had led them to undertaufl 
 a task which they were unable to accomplish. 
 I The whole were grouped in a manner that aped 
 
THE TWO ARCHITECTS. 
 
 19 
 
 the streets of a city, and were evidently so ar- 
 ranged by the directions of one who looked to 
 the wants of posterity rather than to the con- 
 venience of the present incumbents. Some three 
 or four of the better sort of buildings in addition 
 to the uniformity of their color, were fitted with 
 green blinds, which, at that season at least, were 
 rather strangely contrasted to the chill aspect of 
 the lake, the mountains, the forests, and the wide 
 fields of snow. Before the doors of these pre- 
 tending dwellings were placed a few saplings, 
 either without branches, or possessing only the 
 feeble shoots of one or two summers’ growth, 
 that looked not unlike tall grenadiers on post 
 near the threshold of princes. In truth, the occu- 
 pants of these favored habitations were the nobles 
 of Templeton, as Marmaduke was its king. They 
 were the dwellings of two young men who were 
 cunning in the law ; an equal number of that 
 class who chaffered to the wants of the commu- 
 nity under the title of storekeepers ; and a disci- 
 ple of Aesculapius, who, for a novelty, brought 
 more subjects into the world than he sent out of 
 it. In the midst of this incongruous group of 
 dwellings, rose the mansion of the Judge, tower- 
 ing above all its neighbors. It stood in the cen- 
 tre of an inclosure of several acres, which were 
 covered with fruit-trees. Some of the latter had 
 oeen left by the Indians, and began already to 
 assume the moss and inclination of age, therein 
 forming a very marked contrast to the infant 
 plantations that peered over most of the picketed 
 fences of the village. In addition to this show 
 of cultivation, were two rows of young Lombardy 
 poplars, a tree but lately introduced into America, 
 formally lining either side of a pathway, which 
 led from a gate that opened on the principal 
 street to the front door of the building. The 
 house itself had been built entirely under the 
 superintendence of a certain Mr. Richard Jones, 
 whom we have already mentioned, and who, from 
 his cleverness in small matters, and an entire wil- 
 lingness to exert his talents, added to the circum- 
 stance of their being sister’s children, ordinarily 
 superintended all the minor concerns of Marma- 
 duke Temple. Richard was fond of saying, that 
 this child of invention consisted of nothing more 
 nor less than what should form the groundwork 
 of every clergyman’s discourse ; viz., a firstly, 
 and a lastly. He had commenced his labors, in 
 the first year of their residence, by erecting a 
 tall, gaunt edifice of wood, with its gable toward 
 the highway. In this shelter, for it was little 
 more, the family resided three years. By the 
 end of that period, Richard had completed his 
 design. He had availed himself, in this heavy 
 
 I undertaking, of the experience of a certain wan- 
 dering eastern mechanic, who, by exhibiting a 
 few soiled plates of English architecture, and 
 talking learnedly of friezes, entablatures, and 
 particularly of the composite order, had obtained 
 a very undue influence over Richard’s taste, in 
 every thing that pertained to that branch of the 
 fine arts. Not that Mr. Jones did not affect to 
 consider Hiram Doolittle a perfect empiric in his 
 profession, being in the constant habit of listen- 
 ing to his treatises on architecture with a kind 
 of indulgent smile ; yet, either from an inability 
 to oppose them by any thing plausible from his 
 own stores of learning, or from secret admiration, 
 Richard generally submitted to the arguments of 
 his coadjutor. Together, they had not only erect- 
 ed a dwelling for Marmaduke, but they had given 
 a fashion to the architecture of the whole county. 
 The composite order, Mr. Doolittle would con- 
 tend, was an order composed of many others, and 
 was intended to be the most useful of all, for it 
 admitted into its construction such alterations as 
 convenience or circumstances might require. To 
 this proposition Richard usually assented ; and 
 when rival geniuses, who monopolize not only all 
 the reputation, but most of the money of a neigh- 
 borhood, are of a mind, it is not uncommon to 
 see them lead the fashion, even in graver mat- 
 ters. In the present instance, as we have al- 
 ready hinted, the castle, as Judge Templeton’s 
 dwelling was termed in common parlance, came 
 to be the model, in some one or other of its nu- 
 merous excellences, for every aspiring edifice 
 within twenty miles of it. 
 
 The house itself, or the “ lastly,” was of stone ; 
 large, square, and far from uncomfortable. These 
 were four requisites, on which Marmaduke had 
 insisted with a little more than his ordinary per- 
 tinacity. But every thing else was peaceably 
 assigned to Richard and his associate. These 
 worthies found the material a little too solid for 
 the tools of their workmen, which, in general, 
 were employed on a substance no harder than 
 the white pine of the adjacent mountains, a wood 
 so proverbially soft, that it is commonly chosen 
 by the hunters for pillows. But for this awkward 
 dilemma, it is probable that the ambitious tastes 
 of our two architects would have left as much 
 more to do in the way of description. Driven 
 from the faces of the house by the obduracy of 
 the material, they took refuge in the porch and 
 on the roof. The former, it was decided, should 
 be severely classical, and the latter a rare speci- 
 men of the merits of the composite order. 
 
 A roof, Richard contended, was a part of the 
 edifice that the ancients always endeavored to 
 
iO 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 conceal, it being an excrescence in architecture 
 that was only to be tolerated on account of its 
 usefulness. Besides, as he wittily added, a chief 
 merit in a dwelling was to present a front, on 
 whichever side it might happen to be seen ; for, 
 as it was exposed to all eyes in all weathers, 
 there should be no weak flank for envy or un- 
 neighborly criticism to assail. It was therefore 
 decided that the roof should be flat, and with 
 four faces. To this arrangement, Marmaduke 
 objected the heavy snows that lay for months, 
 frequently covering the earth to a depth of three 
 or four feet. Happily, the facilities of the com- 
 posite order presented themselves to effect a 
 compromise, and the rafters were lengthened, so 
 as to give a descent that should carry off the fro- 
 zen element. But, unluckily, some mistake was 
 made in the admeasurement of these material 
 parts of the fabric : and, as one of the greatest rec- 
 ommendations of Hiram was his ability to work 
 by the “ square rule,” no opportunity was found 
 of discovering the effect until the massive tim- 
 bers were raised, on the four walls of the build- 
 ing. Then, indeed, it was soon seen, that, in 
 defiance of all rule, the roof was by far the most 
 conspicuous part of the whole edifice. Richard 
 and his associate consoled themselves with the 
 belief, that the covering would aid in concealing 
 this unnatural elevation ; but every shingle that 
 was laid only multiplied objects to look at. Rich- 
 ard essayed to remedy the evil with paint, and 
 four different colors were laid on by his own 
 hands. The first was a sky-blue, in the vain ex- 
 pectation that the eye might be cheated into the 
 belief it was the heavens themselves that hung so 
 imposingly over Marmaduke’s dwelling ; the sec- 
 ond was what he called a “ cloud-color,” being 
 nothing more nor less than an imitation of smoke ; 
 the third was what Richard termed an invisible 
 green, an experiment that did not succeed against 
 a background of sky. Abandoning the attempt 
 to conceal, our architects drew upon their inven- 
 tion for means to ornament the offensive shingles. 
 After much deliberation and two or three essays 
 by moonlight, Richard ended the affair by boldly 
 covering the whole beneath a color that he chris- 
 tened “ sunshine,” a cheap way, as he assured 
 his cousin, the Judge, of always keeping fair 
 weather over his head. The platform, as well as 
 the eaves of the house, were surmounted by 
 gaudily-painted railings, and the genius of Hiram 
 was everted in the fabrication of divers urns and 
 mouldings, that were scattered profusely around 
 this part of their labors. Richard had originally 
 a cunning expedient, by which the chimneys were 
 intended to be so low, and so situated, as to re- 
 
 semble ornaments on the balustrades ; but com- 
 fort required that the chimneys should rise with 
 the roof, in order that the smoke might be car- 
 ried off, and they thus became four extremely 
 conspicuous objects in the view. 
 
 As this roof was much the most important ar- 
 chitectural undertaking in which Mr. Jones was 
 ever engaged, his failure produced a correspond- 
 ent degree of mortification. At first, he whis- 
 pered among his acquaintances that it proceeded 
 from ignorance of the square rule on the part of 
 Hiram ; but, as his eye became gradually accus- 
 tomed to the object, he grew better satisfied with 
 his labors, and, instead of apologizing for the de- 
 fects, he commenced praising the beauties of the 
 mansion-house ; he soon found hearers ; and, as 
 wealth and comfort are at all times attractive, it 
 was, as has been said, made a model for imitation 
 on a small scale. In less than two years from its 
 erection, he had the pleasure of standing on the 
 elevated platform, and of looking down on three 
 humble imitators of its beauty. Thus it is ever 
 with fashion, which even renders the faults of 
 the great subjects of admiration. 
 
 Marmaduke bore this deformity in his dwell- 
 ing with great good nature, and soon contrived, 
 by his own improvements, to give an air of re- 
 spectability and comfort to his place of residence. 
 Still, there was much of incongruity, even imme- 
 diately about the mansion-house. Although pop- 
 lars had been brought from Europe to ornament 
 the grounds, and willows and other trees were 
 gradually springing up nigh the dwelling, yet 
 many a pile of snow betrayed the presence of the 
 stump of a pine; and even, in one or two in- 
 stances, unsightly remnants of trees that had 
 been partly destroyed by fire were seen rearing 
 their black, glistening columns twenty or thirty 
 feet above the pure white; of the snow. These, 
 which in the language of the country are termed 
 stubs, abounded in the open fields adjacent to 
 the village, and were accompanied, occasionally, 
 by the ruin of a pine or a hemlock that had been 
 stripped of its bark, and which waved in melan- 
 choly grandeur its naked limbs to the blast, a 
 skeleton of its former glory. But these and 
 many other unpleasant additions to the view were 
 unseen by the delighted Elizabeth, who, as the 
 horses moved down the side of the mountain, saw 
 only in gross the cluster of houses that lay like a 
 map at her feet ; the fifty smokes that were curl- 
 ing from the valley to the clouds ; the frozen lake 
 as it lay embedded in mountains of evergreen, 
 with the long shadows of the pines on its white 
 surface, lengthening in the setting sun ; the dark 
 I ribbon of water, that gushed from the outlet, and 
 
MR. JONES AND HIS PARTY. 
 
 21 
 
 was winding its way towai d the distant Chesa- 
 peake — the altered, though still remembered, 
 scenes of her childhood. 
 
 Five years had wrought greater changes than 
 a century would produce in countries where time 
 and labor have given permanency to the works 
 of man. • To our young hunter and the Judge the 
 scene had less novelty ; though none ever emerge 
 from the dark forests of that mountain, and wit- 
 ness the glorious scenery of that beauteous val- 
 ley, as it bursts unexpectedly upon them, without 
 a feeling of delight. The former cast one admir- 
 ing glance from north to south, and sank his face 
 again beneath the folds of his coat ; while the 
 at*er contemplated, with philanthropic pleasure, 
 me prospect of affluence and comfort that was 
 expanding around him ; the result of his own en- 
 terprise, and much of it the fruits of his own in- 
 dustry. 
 
 The cheerful sound of sleigh-bells, however, 
 attracted the attention of the whole party, as 
 they came jingling up the sides of the mountain, 
 at a rate that announced a powerful team and a 
 hard driver. The bushes which lined the high- 
 way interrupted the view, and the two sleighs 
 were close upon each other before either was 
 seen. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 “How now ? whose mare’s dead ? what’s the matter ? ” 
 
 Falstaff. 
 
 A large lumber-sleigh, drawn by four horses, 
 was soon seen dashing through the leafless bushes 
 which fringed the road. The leaders were of 
 gray, and the pole-horses of a jet-black. Bells 
 innumerable were suspended from every part of 
 the harness where one of the tinkling balls could 
 be placed; while the rapid movement of the 
 equipage, in defiance of the steep ascent, an- 
 nounced the desire of the driver to ring them to 
 the utmost. The first glance at this singular ar- 
 rangement acquainted the Judge with the charac- 
 ter of those in the sleigh. It contained four male 
 figures. On one of those stools that are used at 
 writing-desks, lashed firmly to the sides of the 
 vehicle, was seated a little man, enveloped in a 
 great-coat fringed with fur, in such a manner that 
 no part of him was visible excepting a face of an 
 unvarying red color. There was an habitual up- 
 ward look about the head of this gentleman, as if 
 dissatisfied with its natural proximity to the earth ; 
 and the expression of his countenance was that 
 of busy care. He was the charioteer and he 
 
 guided the mettled animals along the precipice 
 with a fearless eye and a steady hand. Immedi- 
 ately behind him, with his face toward the other 
 two, was a tall figure, to whose appearance not 
 even the duplicate overcoats which he wore, aided 
 by the corner of a horse-blanket, could give the 
 appearance of strength. His face was protrud- 
 ing from beneath a woollen nightcap ; and, when 
 he turned to the vehicle of Marmaduke as the 
 sleighs approached each other, it seemed formed 
 by nature to cut the atmosphere with the least 
 possible resistance. The eyes alone appeared to 
 create any obstacle, for from either side of his 
 forehead their light, blue, glassy balls projected. 
 The sallow of his countenance was too permanent 
 to be affected even by the intense cold of the 
 evening. Opposite to this personage sat a solid, 
 short, and square figure. No part of his form 
 was to be discovered through his overdress, but 
 a face that was illuminated by a pair of black 
 eyes, that gave the lie to every demure feature in 
 his countenance. A fair, jolly wig furnished a 
 neat and rounded outline to his visage, and he, as 
 well as the other two, wore marten-skin caps. 
 The fourth was a meek-looking, long-visaged man, 
 without any other protection from the cold than 
 that which was furnished by a black surtout, 
 made with some little formality, but which was 
 rather threadbare and rusty. He wore a hat of 
 extremely decent proportions, though frequent 
 brushing had quite destroyed its nap. His face 
 was pale, and withal a little melancholy, or what 
 might be termed of a studious complexion. The 
 air had given it, just now, a slight and somewhat 
 feverish flush. The character of his whole ap- 
 pearance, especially contrasted to the air of humor 
 in his next companion, was that of habitual men- 
 tal care. No sooner had the two sleighs ap- 
 proached within speaking distance, than the driv- 
 er of this fantastic equipage shouted aloud : 
 
 “ Draw up in the quarry — draw up, thou king 
 of the Greeks ; draw into the quarry, Agamem- 
 non, or I shall never be able to pass you. Wel- 
 come home, cousin ’duke — welcome, welcome, 
 black-eyed Bess. Thou seest, Marmaduke, that 
 I have taken the field with an assorted cargo, to 
 do thee honor. Monsieur Le Quoi has come out 
 with only one cap ; Old Fritz would not stay to 
 finish the bottle ; and Mr. Grant has got to put 
 the ‘ lastly ’ to his sermon, yet. Even all the 
 horses would come — by-the-bv, Judge, I must sell 
 the blacks for you immediately ; they interfere, 
 and the nigh one is a bad goer in double harness. 
 
 I can get rid of them to — ” 
 
 “ Sell what thou wilt, Dickon,” interrupted 
 the cheerful voice of the Judge, “ so that thou 
 
22 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 leavest me my daughter and my lands. Ah ! 
 Fritz, my old friend, this is a kind compliment, 
 indeed, for seventy to pay to five-and-forty. 
 Monsieur Le Quoi, I am your servant. Mr. 
 Grant,” lifting his cap, “I feel indebted to your 
 attention. Gentlemen, I make you acquainted 
 with my child. Yours are names with which she 
 is very familiar.” 
 
 “Velcome, velcome, Tchooge,” said the elder 
 of the party, with a strong German accent. 
 u Miss Petsy vill owe me a kiss.” 
 
 “ And cheerfully will I pay it, my good sir,” 
 cried the soft voice of Elizabeth ; which sounded, 
 in the clear air of the hills, like tones of silver, 
 amid the loud cries of Richard. “ I have always 
 a kiss for my old friend, Major Hartmann.” 
 
 By this time the gentleman in the front seat, 
 who had been addressed as Monsieur Le Quoi, 
 had arisen with some difficulty, owing to the im- 
 pediment of his overcoats, and steadying himself 
 by placing one hand on the stool of the charioteer, 
 with the other he removed his cap, and bowing 
 politely to the Judge, and profoundly to Elizabeth, 
 he paid his compliments. 
 
 “ Cover thy poll, Gaul, cover thy poll,” cried 
 the driver, who was Mr. Richard J ones ; “ cover 
 thy poll, or the frost will pluck out the remnant 
 of thy locks. Had the hairs on the head of Ab- 
 salom been as scarce as thine, he might have 
 been living to this day.” The jokes of Richard 
 never failed of exciting risibility, for he uniform- 
 ly did honor to his own wit ; and he enjoyed a 
 hearty laugh on the present occasion, while Mr. 
 Le Quoi resumed his seat with a polite reciproca- 
 tion in his mirth. The clergyman, for such was 
 the office of Mr. Grant, modestly, though quite 
 affectionately, exchanged his greetings with the 
 travellers also, when Richard prepared to turn 
 the heads of his horses homeward. 
 
 It was in the quarry alone that he could effect 
 this object, without ascending to the summit of 
 the mountain. A very considerable excavation 
 had been made in the side of the hill, at the point 
 where Richard had succeeded in stopping the 
 sleighs, from which the stones used for building 
 in the village were ordinarily quarried, and in 
 which he now attempted to turn his team. Pass- 
 ing itself was a task of difficulty, and frequently 
 of danger, in that narrow road ; but Richard had 
 to meet the additional risk of turning his four-in- 
 hand. The black civilly volunteered his services 
 to take off the leaders, and the Judge very ear- 
 nestly seconded the measure with his advice. 
 Richard treated both proposals with great dis- 
 dain. 
 
 claimed, a little angrily : “ the horses are gentlt 
 as lambs. You know that I broke the leaders 
 myself, and the pole-horses are too near my whip 
 to be restive. Here is Mr. Le Quoi, now, who 
 must know something about driving, because he 
 has rode out so often with me ; I will leave it to 
 Mr. Le Quoi whether there is any danger.” 
 
 It was not in the nature of the Frenchman to 
 disappoint expectations so confidently formed ; 
 
 | although he sat looking down the precipice which 
 fronted him, as Richard turned his leaders into 
 the quarry, with a pair of eyes that stood out like 
 those of lobsters. The German’s muscles were 
 unmoved, but his quick sight scanned each move- 
 ment. Mr. Grant placed his hands on the side of 
 the sleigh, in preparation for a spring, but moral 
 timidity deterred him from taking the leap that 
 bodily apprehension strongly urged him to at- 
 tempt. 
 
 Richard, by a sudden application of the whip, 
 succeeded in forcing the leaders into the snow- 
 bank that covered the quarry; but the instant 
 that the impatient animals suffered by the crust, 
 through which they broke at each step, they posi-. 
 tively refused to move an inch farther in that di- 
 rection. On the contrary, finding that the cries 
 and blows of their driver were redoubled at this 
 juncture, the leaders backed upon the pole-horses, 
 who, in their turn, backed the sleigh. Only a single 
 log lay above the pile which upheld the road, on 
 the side toward the valley, and this was now 
 buried in the snow. The sleigh was easily forced 
 across so slight an impediment ; and, before Rich- 
 ard became conscious of his danger, one half of 
 the vehicle was projected over a precipice, which 
 fell, perpendicularly, more than a hundred feet # 
 The Frenchman, who, by his position, had a full 
 view of their threatened flight, instinctively threw 
 his body as far forward as possible, and cried, 
 “ Ah ! Mon cher monsieur Deeck ! mon Dieu ! que 
 faites-vous ! ” 
 
 “ Donner and blitzen, Richart,” exclaimed the 
 veteran German, looking over the side of the 
 sleigh with unusual emotion, “ put you will preak 
 ter sleigh and kilt ter horses.” 
 
 “ Good Mr. Jones,” said the clergyman, “ be 
 prudent, good sir— be careful” 
 
 “ Get up, obstinate devils ! ” cried Richard, 
 catching a bird’s-eye view of his situation, and, in 
 his eagerness to move forward, kicking the stool 
 on which he sat— “get up, I say— cousin ’duke, 
 I shall have to sell the grays too ; they are the 
 worst broken horses— Mr. Le Quaw ! ” Richard 
 was too much agitated to regard his pronuncia- 
 tion, of which he was commonly a little vain; 
 Monsieur Le Quaw, pray get off ray ley • vmi 
 
A LUDICROUS ACCIDENT. 
 
 23 
 
 Hold my log so tight, that it’s no wonder the horses 
 back.” 
 
 “ Merciful Providence ! ” exclaimed the Judge, 
 “ they will be all killed ! ” 
 
 Elizabeth gave a piercing shriek, and the black 
 of Agamemnon’s face changed to a muddy white. 
 
 At this critical moment, the young hunter, 
 who, during the salutations of the parties, had 
 sat in rather sullen silence, sprang from the sleigh 
 of Marmaduke to the heads of the refractory 
 leaders. The horses, which were yet suffering un- 
 der the injudicious and somewhat random blows 
 of Richard, were dancing up and down with that 
 ominous movement that threatens a sudden and 
 uncontrollable start, still pressing backward. The 
 youth gave the leaders a powerful jerk, and they 
 plunged aside, and reentered the road in the posi- 
 tion in which they were first halted. The sleigh 
 was whirled from its dangerous position, and up- 
 set with the runners outward. The German and 
 the divine were thrown, rather unceremoniously, 
 into the highway, but without danger to their 
 bones. Richard appeared in the air, describing 
 the segment of a circle of which the reins were 
 the radii, and landed at the distance of some fif- 
 teen feet, in that snow-bank which the horses had 
 dreaded, right end uppermost. Here, as he in- 
 stinctively grasped the reins, as drowning men 
 seize at straws, he admirably served the purpose 
 of an anchor. The Frenchman, who was on his 
 legs in the act of springing from the sleigh, took 
 an aerial flight also, much in the attitude which 
 boys assume when they play leap-frog, and, flying 
 off in a tangent to the curvature of his course, 
 came into the snow-bank head foremost, where 
 he remained, exhibiting two lathy legs on high, 
 like scarecrows waving in a corn-field. Major 
 Hartmann, whose self-possession had been admira- 
 bly preserved during the whole evolution, was 
 the first of the party that gained his feet and his 
 voice. 
 
 “ Ter deyvel, Richart ! ” he exclaimed, in a 
 voice half serious, half comical, “ put you unloat 
 your sleigh very hantily.” 
 
 It may be doubtful whether the attitude in 
 which Mr. Grant continued for an instant after his 
 overthrow was the one into which he had been 
 thrown, or was assumed, in humbling himself be- 
 fore the Power that he reverenced, in thanksgiv- 
 ing at his escape. When he rose from his knees, 
 he began to gaze about him, with anxious looks, 
 after the welfare of his companions, while every 
 joint in his body trembled with nervous agitation. 
 There was some confusion in the faculties of Mr. 
 Jones also ; but as the mist gradually cleared from 
 before his eyes, he saw that all was safe, and, with | 
 
 an air of great self-satisfaction, he cried, “Well 
 — that was neatly saved, any how ! — it was a lucky 
 thought in me to hold on the reins, or the fiery 
 devils would have been over the mountain by this 
 time. How well I recovered myself, ’duke ! 
 Another moment would have been too late ; but 
 I knew just the spot where to touch the off-leader ; 
 that blow under his right flank, and the sudden 
 jerk I gave the rein, brought them round quite 
 in rule, I must own myself.” * 
 
 “ Thou jerk ! thou recover thyself, Dickon ! ” he 
 said, “ but for that brave lad yonder, thou and thy 
 horses, or rather mine, would have been dashed 
 to pieces — but where is Monsieur Le Quoi ? ” 
 
 “ Oh ! mon cher Juge ! mon ami ! ” cried a 
 smothered voice, “ praise be God, I live ; vill you, 
 Mister Agamemnon, be pleas come down ici, and 
 help me on my leg ? ” 
 
 The divine and the negro seized the incarcer- 
 ated Gaul by his legs, and extricated him from a 
 snow-bank of three feet in depth, whence his voice 
 had sounded as from the tombs. The thoughts of 
 Mr. Le Quoi, immediately on his liberation, were 
 not extremely collected ; and, when he reached the 
 light, he threw his eyes upward, in order to ex- 
 amine the distance he had fallen. His good- 
 humor returned, however, with a knowledge of his 
 safety, though it was some little time before he 
 clearly comprehended the case. 
 
 “What, monsieur,” said Richard, who was 
 busily assisting the black in taking off the leaders ; 
 “ are you there ? I thought I saw you flying tow- 
 ard the top of the mountain just now.” 
 
 “ Praise be God, I no fly down into the lake,” 
 returned the Frenchman, with a visage that was 
 divided between pain, occasioned by a few large 
 scratches that he had received in forcing his head 
 through the crust, and the look of complaisance 
 that seemed natural to his pliable features. “ Ah ! 
 mon cher Mister Deeck, vat you do next ? — dere 
 be noting you no try.” 
 
 “ The next thing I trust, will be to learn to 
 drive,” said the Judge, who had busied himself in 
 throwing the buck, together with several other 
 articles of baggage, from his own sleigh into the 
 snow; “here are seats for you all, gentlemen; 
 the evening grows piercingly cold, and the hour 
 approaches for the service of Mr. Grant : we will 
 leave friend Jones to repair the damages, with the 
 assistance of Agamemnon, and hasten to a warm 
 fire. Here, Dickon, are a few articles of Bess’s 
 trumpery, that you can throw into your sleigh 
 
 * The spectators, from immemorial usage, have a right to 
 laugh at the casualties of a sleigh-ride ; and the J udge was 
 no sooner certain that no harm was done, than he made full 
 use of the privilege. 
 
24 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 when ready ; and there is also a deer of my taking, 
 that I will thank you to bring. Aggy ! remember 
 that there will be a visit from Santaclaus * to- 
 night.” 
 
 The black grinned, conscious of the bribe that 
 was offered him for silence on the subject of the 
 deer, while Richard, without in the least waiting 
 tor the termination of his cousin's speech, began 
 his reply : 
 
 “ Learn to drive, sayest thou, cousin ’duke ? 
 Is there a man in the county who knows more of 
 horse-flesh than myself ? Who broke in the 
 filly, that no one else dare mount ; though your 
 coachman did pretend that he had tamed her be- 
 fore I took her in hand ; but anybody could see 
 that he lied — he was a great liar, that John — 
 what’s that, a buck ? ” — Richard abandoned the 
 horses, and ran to the spot where Marmaduke 
 had thrown the deer : “ It is a buck ! I am 
 amazed ! Yes, here are two holes in him, he has 
 fired both barrels, and hit him each time. Ecod ! 
 how Marmaduke will brag! he is a prodigious 
 bragger about any small matter like this now ; 
 well, to think that ’duke has killed a buck before 
 Christmas ! There will be no such thing as 
 living with him — they are both bad shots though, 
 mere chance — mere chance — now, I never fired 
 twice, at a cloven foot in my lift — it is hit or 
 miss with me— dead or run away — had it been a 
 bear, or a wild cat, a man might have wanted 
 both barrels. Here ! you Aggy ! how far off was 
 the Judge when this buck was shot ! ” 
 
 “Eh! massa Richard, maybe a ten rod,” 
 cried the black, bending under one of the horses, 
 with the pretence of fastening a buckle, but in 
 reality to conceal the grin that opened a mouth 
 from ear to ear. 
 
 “ Ten rod ! ” echoed the other ; “ why, Aggy, 
 the deer I killed last winter was at twenty— yes ! 
 if any thing it was nearer thirty than twenty. I 
 wouldn’t shoot at a deer at ten rod : besides, you 
 may remember, Aggy, I only fired once.” 
 
 “ Yes, massa Richard, I ’member ’em ! Natty 
 Bumppo fire t’oder gun. You know, sir, all ’e 
 folk say Natty kill him.” 
 
 “The folks lie, you black devil!” exclaimed 
 Richard in great heat. “ I have not shot even a 
 gray squirrel these four years, to which that old 
 rascal has not laid claim, or some one else for 
 him. This is a damned envious world that we 
 live in — people are always for dividing the credit 
 
 * Tho periodical visits of St. Nicholas, or Santaclaus, as 
 ho is termed, were never forgotten among the inhabitants of 
 New York, until the emigration from New England brought 
 In the opinions and usages of the puritans. Like the “ bon 
 homme do Noel,"’ he arrives at each Christmas. 
 
 of a thing, in order to bring down merit to their 
 own level. Now they have a story about the 
 Patent,* that Hiram Doolittle helped to plan the 
 steeple to St. Paul’s ; when Hiram knows that it 
 is entirely mine ; a little taken from a print of its 
 namesake in London, I own ; but essentially, as to 
 all points of genius, my own.” 
 
 “ I don’t know where he come from,” said the 
 black, losing every mark of humor in an expres- 
 sion of admiration, “ but eb’ry body say, he won- 
 nerful handsome.” 
 
 “And well they may say so, Aggy,” cried 
 Richard, leaving the buck and walking up to the 
 negro with the air of a man who has new interest 
 awakened within him. “ I think I may say, with- 
 out bragging, that it is the handsomest and the 
 most scientific country church in America. I 
 know that the Connecticut settlers talk about 
 their Westherfield meeting-house ; but I never be- 
 lieve more than half what they say, they are 
 such unconscionable braggers. Just as you have 
 got a thing done, if they see it likely to be suc- 
 cessful, they are always for interfering ; and then 
 it’s ten to one but they lay claim to half, or even 
 all of the credit. You may remember, Aggy, 
 when I painted the sign of the bold dragoon for 
 Captain Hollister, there was that fellow, who was 
 about town laying brick-dust on the houses, 
 came one day and olfered to mix what I call the 
 streaky black, for the tail and mane, and then, 
 because it looks like horse-hair, he tells every- 
 body that the sign was painted by himself and 
 Squire Jones. If Marmaduke don’t send that 
 fellow off the Patent, he may ornament his vil- 
 lage with his own hands for me.” Here Richard 
 j paused a moment, and cleared his throat by a 
 j loud hem, while the negro, who was all this time 
 busily engaged in preparing the sleigh, proceeded 
 with his work in respectful silence. Owing to 
 the religious scruples of the Judge, Aggy was 
 the servant of Richard, who had his services for 
 a time , f and who, of course, commanded a legal 
 
 * The grants of land, made either by the crown or the 
 state, were by letters patent under the great seal, and the 
 term ‘^patent” is usually applied to any district of extent, 
 thus conceded ; though under the crown, manorial rights 
 being often granted with the soil, in the older counties, 
 the word “ manor ” is frequently used. There are many 
 “manors” in New York, though all political and judicial 
 rights have ceased. 
 
 + The manumission of the slaves in New York has 
 been gradual. When public opinion became 6trong in 
 their favor, then grew up a custom of buying the services 
 of a slave, for 6ix or eight years, with a condition to 
 liberate him at the end of the period. Then the law 
 provided that all born after a certain day should be free, 
 the males at twenty-eight, and the females at twenty-five. 
 After this the owner was obliged to cao*e his servants t® 
 
AGAMEMNON AND HIS MASTER. 
 
 25 
 
 rlaim to the respect of the young negro. But 
 when any dispute between his lawful and his real 
 master occurred, the black felt too much defer- 
 ence for both to express any opinion. In the 
 meanwhile, Richard continued watching the negro 
 as he fastened buckle after buckle, until, steal- 
 ing a look of consciousness toward the other, he 
 continued, “Now, if that young man who was in 
 your sleigh, is a real Connecticut settler, he will 
 be telling everybody how he saved my horses, 
 when, if he had let them alone for half a minute 
 longer, I would have brought them in much bet- 
 ter, without upsetting, with the whip and rein — 
 it spoils a horse to give him his head. I should 
 not wonder if I had to sell the whole team, just 
 for that one jerk he gave them.” Richard 
 paused, and hemmed ; for his conscience smote 
 him a little, for censuring a man who had just 
 saved his life : “ Who is the lad, Aggy — I don’t 
 
 remember to have seen him before ? ” 
 
 The black recollected the hint about Santa- 
 claus ; and, while he briefly explained how they 
 had taken up the person in question on the top 
 of the mountain, he forbore to add any thing 
 concerning the accident of the wound, only say- 
 ing that he believed the youth was a stranger. 
 It was so usual for men of the first rank to 
 take into their sleighs any one they found toiling 
 through the snow, that Richard was perfectly 
 satisfied with this explanation. He heard Aggy 
 with great attention, and then remarked, “ Well, 
 if the lad has not been spoiled by the people in 
 Templeton, he may be a modest young man, and, 
 as he certainly meant well, I shall take some no- 
 tice of him — perhaps he is land-hunting — I say, 
 Aggy, maybe he is out hunting ? ” 
 
 “ Eh ! yes, massa Richard,” said the black, a 
 little confused ; for, as Richard did all the flogging, 
 he stood in great terror of his master, in the 
 main — “ Yes, sir, I b’lieve he be.” 
 f “ Had he a pack and an axe ? ” 
 
 ■ ■ “ No, sir, only he rifle.” 
 
 “ Rifle ! ” exclaimed Richard, observing the 
 confusion of the negro, which now amounted to 
 terror. “ By Jove, he killed the deer ! I knew 
 that Marmaduke couldn’t kill a buck on the jump 
 —how was it, Aggy ? tell me all about it, and I’ll 
 roast ’duke quicker than he can roast his saddle 
 — how was it, Aggy ? the lad shot the buck, and 
 the Judge bought it, ha ! and he is taking the 
 youth down to get the pay ? ” 
 
 be taught to read and to write before they reached the age 
 of eighteen, and, finally, the few that remained were all 
 unconditionally liberated in 1826, or after the publication 
 of this tale. It was quite usual for men more or less con- 
 nected with the Quakers, who never held slaves, to adopt 
 »bo first expedient. 
 
 The pleasure of this discovery had put Rich- 
 ard in such a good humor, that the negro’s fears 
 in some measure vanished, and he remembered 
 the stocking of Santaclaus. After a gulp or two, 
 he made out to reply : 
 
 “ You forgit a two shot, sir ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t lie, you black rascal ! ” cried Richard, 
 Stepping on the snow-bank to measure the dis- 
 tance from his lash to the negro’s back ; “ speak 
 truth, or I trounce you.” While speaking, the 
 stock was slowly rising in Richard’s right hand, 
 and the lash drawing through his left, in the sci- 
 entific manner with which drummers apply the 
 cat ; and Agamemnon, after turning each side of 
 himself toward his master, and finding both equal- 
 ly unwilling to remain there, fairly gave in. In a 
 very few words he made his master acquainted 
 with the truth, at the same time earnestly conjur- 
 ing Richard to protect him from the displeasure 
 of the Judge. 
 
 “ I’ll do it, boy, I’ll do it,” cried the other, 
 rubbing his hands with delight ; “ say nothing, 
 but leave me to manage ’duke. I have a great 
 mind to leave the deer on the hill, and to make 
 the fellow send for his own carcass : but no, I 
 will let Marmaduke tell a few bounces about it 
 before I come out upon him. Come, hurry in, 
 Aggy, I must help to dress the lad’s wound : this 
 Yankee * doctor knows nothing of surgery — I 
 had to hold old Milligan’s leg for him, while he 
 cut it off.” — Richard was now seated on the stool 
 again, and, the black taking the hind seat, the 
 steeds were put in motion toward home. As they 
 dashed down the hill, on a fast trot, the driver 
 occasionally turned his face to Aggy, and contin- 
 ued speaking ; for, notwithstanding their recent 
 rupture, the most perfect cordiality was again ex- 
 isting between them. “ This goes to prove that 
 I turned the horses with the reins, for no man 
 who is shot in the right shoulder can have strength 
 enough to bring round such obstinate devils. I 
 knew I did it from the first ; but I did not want 
 to multiply words with Marmaduke about it. — 
 Will you bite, you villain ? — hip, boys, hip ! Old 
 Natty too, that is the best of it ! — Well, well — 
 ’duke will say no more about my deer — and the 
 Judge fired both barrels, and hit nothing but a 
 poor lad, who was behind a pine-tree. I must 
 
 * In America the term Yankee is of local meaning 1 . It 
 is thought to be derived from the manner in which the In- 
 dians of New England pronounced the word “ English,” or 
 “ Yengeese.” New York being originally a Dutch prov- 
 ince, the term of course was not known there, and farther 
 south different dialects among the natives themselves 
 probably produced a different pronunciation. Marmaduke 
 and his cousin, being Pennsylvanians by birth, were cot 
 Yankees in the American sense of the word. 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 help that quack to taite out tlie buck-shot for the 
 poor fellow.” In this manner Richard descended 
 the mountain ; the bells ringing, and his tongue 
 going, until they entered the village, when the 
 whole attention of the driver was devoted to a 
 display of his horsemanship, to the admiration 
 of all the gaping women and children who thronged 
 the windows to witness the arrival of their land- 
 lord and his daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER Y. 
 
 •* Nathaniel’s coat, sir, was not fully made, 
 
 And Gabriel’s pumps were all unpink’d i’ th’ heel ; 
 
 There was no link to color Peter’s hat, 
 
 An d Walter’s dagger was not come fi-om sheathing ; 
 
 There were none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and Gregory.” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 After winding along the side of the moun- 
 tain, the road, on reaching the gentle declivity 
 which lay at the base of the hill, turned at a 
 right angle to its former course, and shot down 
 an inclined plane, directly into the village of 
 Templeton. The rapid little stream that we have 
 already mentioned, was crossed by a bridge of 
 hewn timber, which manifested, by its rude con- 
 struction, and the unnecessary size of its frame- 
 work, both the value of labor and the abundance 
 of materials. This little torrent, whose dark waters 
 gushed over the limestones that lined its bottom, 
 was nothing less than one of the many sources of 
 the Susquehanna ; a river to which the Atlantic 
 herself has extended an arm in welcome. It was 
 at this point that the powerful team of Mr. Jones 
 brought him up to the more sober steeds of our 
 travellers. A small hill was risen, and Elizabeth 
 found herself at once amidst the incongruous 
 dwellings of the village. The street was of the 
 ordinary width, notwithstanding the eye might 
 embrace, in one view, thousands and tens of thou- 
 sands of acres, that were yet tenanted only by the 
 beasts of the forest. But such had been the will 
 of her father, and such had also met the wishes 
 of his followers. To them the road that made the 
 most rapid approaches to the condition of the old, 
 or, as they expressed it, the down countries, was 
 the most pleasant; and surely nothing could 
 look more like civilization than a city, even if it 
 lay in a wilderness ! The width of the street, for 
 so it was called, might have been one hundred 
 feet; but the track for the sleighs was much 
 more limited. On either side of the highway 
 were piled huge heaps of logs, that were daily in- 
 creasing rather than diminishing in size, notwith- 
 
 standing the enormous fires that might be seen 
 through every window. 
 
 The last object at which Elizabeth gazed 
 when they renevcd their journey, after the ren- 
 contre with Richard, was the sun, as it expanded 
 in the refraction of the horizon, and over whose 
 disk the dark umbrage of a pine was stealing, 
 while it slowly sank behind the western hills. 
 But his setting rays darted along the openings 
 of the mountain she was on, and lighted the 
 shining covering of the birches, until their smooth 
 and glossy coats nearly rivalled the mountain- 
 sides in color. The outline of each dark pine 
 was delineated far in the depths of the forest; 
 and the rocks, too smooth and too perpendicular 
 to retain the snow that had fallen, brightened, as 
 if smiling at the leave-taking of the luminary. 
 But at each step, as they descended, Elizabeth 
 observed that they were leaving the day behind 
 them. Even the heartless but bright rays of a 
 December sun were missed, as they glided into 
 the cold gloom of the valley. Along the summits 
 of the mountains in the eastern range, it is true, 
 the light still lingered, receding step by step from 
 the earth into the clouds that were gathering, 
 with the evening mist, about the limited horizon ; 
 but the frozen lake lay without a shadow on its 
 bosom; the dwellings were becoming already 
 gloomy and indistinct ; and the wood - cutters 
 were shouldering their axes, and preparing to 
 enjoy, throughout the long evening before them, 
 the comforts of those exhilarating fires that their 
 labor had been supplying with fuel. They paused 
 only to gaze at the passing sleighs, to lift their 
 caps to Marmaduke, to exchange familiar nods 
 with Richard, and each disappeared in his dwell- 
 ing. The paper curtains dropped behind our 
 travellers in every window, shutting from the air 
 even the fire-light of the cheerful apartments; 
 and when the horses of her father turned, with a 
 rapid whirl, into the open gate of the mansion- 
 house, and nothing stood before her but the cold 
 dreary stone walls of the building, as she ap- 
 proached them through an avenue of young and 
 leafless poplars, Elizabeth felt as if all the loveli- 
 ness of the mountain-view had vanished like the 
 fancies of a dream. Marmaduke retained so much 
 of his early habits as to reject the use of bells ; 
 but the equipage of Mr. Jones came dashing through 
 the gate after them, sending its jingling sounds 
 through every cranny of the building, and in a 
 moment the dwelling was in an uproar. 
 
 On a stone platform, of rather small propor- 
 tions, considering the size of the building, Rich- 
 ard and Hiram had, conjointly, reared four little 
 columns of wood, which in their turn srapported 
 
BENJAMIN PENGUILLAN, OR TOM PUMP. 
 
 27 
 
 the shingled roofs of the portico — this was the 
 name that Mr. Jones had thought proper to give 
 to a very plain, covered entrance. The ascent to 
 the platform was by five or six stone steps, some- 
 what hastily laid together, and which the frost 
 had already begun to move from their symmetri- 
 cal positions. But the evils of a cold climate, 
 and a superficial construction, did not end here. 
 As the steps lowered, the platform necessarily fell 
 also, and the foundations actually left the super- 
 structure suspended in the air, leaving an open 
 space of a foot between the base of the pillars 
 and the stones on which they had originally been 
 placed. It was lucky for the whole fabric that 
 the carpenter, who did the manual part of the 
 labor, had fastened the canopy of this classic 
 entrance so firmly to the side of the house, that, 
 when the base deserted the superstructure in the 
 manner we have described, and the pillars, for 
 the want of a foundation, were no longer of ser- 
 vice to support the roof, the roof was able to 
 uphold the pillars. Here was, indeed, an unfor- 
 tunate gap left in the ornamental part of Rich- 
 ard's column ; but, like the window in Aladdin’s 
 palace, it seemed only left in order to prove the 
 fertility of its master’s resources. The composite 
 order again offered its advantages, and a second 
 edition of the base was given, as the booksellers 
 say, with additions and improvements. It was 
 necessarily larger, and it was properly ornamented 
 with mouldings : still the steps continued to yield, 
 and, at the moment when Elizabeth returned to 
 her father’s door, a few rough wedges were driv- 
 en under the pillars to keep them steady, and 
 to prevent their weight from separating them 
 from the pediment which they ought to have sup- 
 ported. 
 
 From the great door which opened into the 
 porch emerged two or three female domestics, 
 and one male. The latter was bareheaded, but 
 evidently more dressed than usual, and on the 
 whole was of so singular a formation and attire, 
 as to deserve a more minute description. He 
 was about five feet in height, of a square and 
 athletic frame, with a pair of shoulders that 
 would have fitted a grenadier. His low stature 
 was rendered the more striking by a bend forward 
 that he was in the habit of assuming, for no ap- 
 parent reason, unless it might be to give greater 
 freedom to his arms, in a particularly sweeping 
 swing, that they constantly practised when their 
 master was in motion. His face was long, of a 
 fair complexion, burnt to a fiery red ; with a 
 snub nose, cocked into an inveterate pug; a 
 mouth of enormous dimensions, filled with fine 
 teeth ; and a pair of blue eyes, that seemed to 
 
 look about them, on surrounding objects, with 
 habitual contempt. His head composed full one 
 fourth of his whole length, and the cue that 
 depended from its rear occupied another. He 
 wore a coat of very light drab cloth, with buttons 
 as large as dollars, bearing the impression of a 
 “ foul anchor.” The skirts were extremely long, 
 reaching quite to the calf, and were broad in 
 proportion. Beneath, there were a vest and 
 breeches of red plush, somewhat worn and soiled. 
 He had shoes with large buckles, and stockings 
 of blue and white stripes. 
 
 This odd-looking figure reported himself to be 
 a native of the county of Cornwall, in the island 
 of Great Britain. His boyhood had passed in the 
 neighborhood of the tin mines, and his youth as 
 the cabin-boy of a smuggler, between Falmouth 
 and Guernsey. From this trade he had been im- 
 pressed into the service of his king, and, for the 
 want of a better, had been taken into the cabin, 
 first as a servant, and finally as steward to the 
 captain. Here he acquired the art of making 
 chowder, lobscouse, and one or two other sea- 
 dishes, and, as he was fond of saying, had an 
 opportunity of seeing the world. With the ex- 
 ception of one or two outports in France, and an 
 occasional visit to Portsmouth, Plymouth, and 
 Deal, he had in reality seen no more of mankind, 
 however, than if he had been riding a donkey in 
 one of his native mines. But, being discharged 
 from the navy at the peace of ’83, he declared 
 that, as he had seen all the civilized parts of the 
 earth, he was inclined to make a trip to the wilds of 
 America. We will not trace him in his brief 
 wanderings, under the influence of that spirit of 
 emigration that sometimes induces a dapper Cock- 
 ney to quit his home, and lands him, before the 
 sound of Bow-bells is out of his ears, within the 
 roar of the cataract of Niagara ; but shall only 
 add, that, at a very early day, even before Eliza- 
 beth had been sent to school, he had found his 
 way into the family of Marmaduke Temple, where, 
 owing to a combination of qualities that will be 
 developed in the course of the tale, he held, under 
 Mr. Jones, the office of major-domo. The name 
 of this worthy was Benjamin **enguillan, accord- 
 ing to his own pronunciation; but, owing to a 
 marvellous tale that he was in the habit of relat- 
 ing, concerning the length of time he had to labor 
 to keep his ship from sinking after Rodney’s vic- 
 tory, he had universally acquired the nickname 
 of Ben Pump. 
 
 By the side of Benjamin, and pressing for- 
 ward as if a little jealous of her station, stood a 
 middle-aged woman, dressed in calico, rather vio- 
 lently contrasted in color with a tall, meagre^ 
 
28 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 shapeless figure, sharp features, and a somewhat 
 acute expression of her physiognomy. Her teeth 
 were mostly gone, and what did remain were of 
 a light yellow. The skin of her nose was drawn 
 tightly over the member, to hang in large wrinkles 
 in her cheeks and about her mouth. She took 
 guuff in such quantities, as to create the impres- 
 sion that she owed the saffron of her lips and the 
 adjacent parts to this circumstance; but it was 
 the unvarying color of her whole face. She pre- 
 sided over the female part of the domestic ar- 
 rangements, in the capacity of housekeeper ; was 
 a spinster, and bore the name of Remarkable 
 Pettibone. To Elizabeth she was an entire stran- 
 ger, having been introduced into the family since 
 the death of her mother. 
 
 In addition to these, were three or four sub- 
 ordinate menials, mostly black, some appearing at 
 the principal door, and some running from the end 
 of the building, where stood the entrance to the 
 cellar-kitchen. 
 
 Besides these, there was a general rush from 
 Richard’s kennel, accompanied with every canine 
 tone, from the howl of the wolf-dog to the petulant 
 bark of the terrier. The master received their 
 boisterous salutations with a variety of imita- 
 tions from his own throat, when the dogs, proba- 
 bly from shame of being outdone, ceased their 
 outcry. One stately, powerful mastiff, who wore 
 round his neck a brass collar, with “ M. T.” en- 
 graved in large letters on the rim, alone was si- 
 lent. He walked maj estically, amid the confusion, 
 to the side of the Judge, where, receiving a kind 
 pat or two, he turned to Elizabeth, who even 
 stooped to kiss him, as she called him kindly by 
 the name of “ Old Brave.” The animal seemed 
 to know her, as she ascended the steps, supported 
 by Monsieur Le Quoi and her father, in order to 
 protect her from falling on the ice with which they 
 were covered. He looked wistfully after her fig- 
 ure, and when the door closed on the whole party, 
 he laid himself in a kennel that was placed nigh 
 by, as if conscious that the house contained some- 
 thing of additional value to guard. 
 
 Elizabeth followed her father, who paused a 
 moment to whisper a message to one of his do- 
 mestics, into a large hall, that was dimly lighted 
 by two candles, placed in high, old-fashioned, 
 brass candlesticks. The door closed, and the 
 party were at once removed from an atmosphere 
 that was nearly at zero, to one of sixty degrees 
 above. In the centre of the hall stood an enor- 
 mous stove, the sides of which appeared to be 
 quivering with heat ; from which a large, straight 
 pipe, leading through the ceiling above, carried 
 off the smoke. An iron basin, containing water, 
 
 was placed on this furnace, for such only it could 
 be called, in order to preserve a proper humidity 
 in the apartment. The room was carpeted, and 
 furnished with convenient, substantial furniture, 
 some of which was brought from the city, and the 
 remainder having been manufactured by the me- 
 chanics of Templeton. There was a sideboard of 
 mahogany, inlaid with ivory, and bearing enor- 
 mous handles of glittering brass, and groaning 
 under the piles of silver plate. Near it stood a 
 set of prodigious tables, made of the wild cherry, 
 to imitate the imported wood of the sideboard, but 
 plain, and without ornament of any kind. Oppo- 
 site to these stood a smaller table, formed from a 
 lighter-colored wood, through the grains of which 
 the wavy lines of the curled maple of the moun- 
 tains were beautifully undulating. Near to this, 
 in a comer, stood a heavy, old-fashioned, brass, 
 faced clock, encased in a high box, of the dark 
 hue of the black walnut from the sea-shore. An 
 enormous settee, or sofa, covered with light chintz, 
 stretched along the walls for near twenty feet on 
 one side of the hall ; and chairs of wood, painted 
 a light yellow, with black lines that were drawn 
 by no very steady hand, were ranged opposite, 
 and in the intervals between the other pieces of 
 furniture. A Fahrenheit’s thermometer, in a ma- 
 hogany case, and with a barometer annexed, was 
 hung against the wall, at some little distance from 
 the stove, which Benjamin consulted, every half 
 hour, with prodigious exactitude. Two small glass 
 chandeliers were suspended at equal distances be- 
 tween the stove and the outer doors, one of which 
 opened at each end of the hall, and gilt lustres 
 were affixed to the framework of the numerous 
 side-doors that led from the apartment. Some 
 little display in architecture had been made in 
 constructing these frames and casings, which were 
 surmounted with pediments, that bore each a little 
 pedestal in its centre ; on these pedestals were 
 small busts in blacked plaster of Paris. The style 
 of the pedestals, as well as the selection of the 
 busts, were all due to the taste of Mr. Jones. On 
 one stood Homer, a most striking likeness, Rich- 
 ard affirmed, “ as any one might see, for it was 
 blind.” Another bore the image of a smoOth-vis- 
 aged gentleman with a pointed beard, whom he 
 called Shakespeare. A third ornament was an urn, 
 which from its shape, Richard was accustomed to 
 say, intended to represent itself as holding the 
 ashes of Dido. A fourth was certainly old Frank- 
 lin, in his cap and spectacles. A fifth as surely 
 bore the dignified composure of the face of Wash- 
 ington. A sixth was a nondescript, representing 
 “ a man with a shirt-collar open,” to use the Ian- 
 guage of Richard, “ with a laurel on his head— 
 
THE HEIRESS AT HOME. 
 
 29 
 
 It was Julius Caesai or Or. Faustus ; there were 
 good reasons for believing either.” 
 
 The walls were hung with a dark, lead-colored 
 English paper that represented Britannia weeping 
 over the tomb of Wolfe. The hero himself stood 
 at a little distance from the mourning goddess, 
 and at the edge of the paper. Each width con- 
 tained the figure, with the slight exception of one 
 arm of the general, which ran over on the next 
 piece, so that when Richard essayed, with his 
 own hands, to put together this delicate outline, 
 some difficulties occurred that prevented a nice 
 conjunction ; and Britannia had reason to lament, 
 in addition to the loss of her favorite’s life, num- 
 berless cruel amputations of his right arm. 
 
 The luckless cause of these unnatural divisions 
 now announced his presence in the hall by a loud 
 crack of his whip. 
 
 “Why, Benjamin 1 you Ben Pump! is this 
 the manner in which you receive the heiress ? ” he 
 cried. — “ Excuse him, cousin Elizabeth. The ar- 
 rangements were too intricate to be trusted to 
 every one ; but now I am here, things will go on 
 better.— Come, light up, Mr. Penguillan, light up, 
 light up, and let us see one another’s faces. 
 Well, ’duke, I have brought home your deer; 
 what is to be done with it, ha ? ” 
 
 “ By the Lord, squire,” commenced Benjamin, 
 in reply, first giving his mouth a wipe with the 
 back of his hand, “ if this here thing had been 
 ordered sum’at earlier in the day, it might have 
 been got up, d’ye see, to your liking. I had 
 mustered all hands, and was exercising candles, 
 when you hove in sight ; but when the women 
 heard your bells they started an end, as if they 
 were riding the boatswain’s colt; and, if-so-be 
 there is that man in the house, who can bring up 
 a parcel of women when they have got headway 
 on them, until they’ve run out the end of their 
 rope, his name is not Benjamin Pump. But Miss 
 Betsey here must have altered more than a priva- 
 teer iii disguise, since she has got on her woman’s 
 duds, if she will take offence with an old fellow 
 for the small matter of lighting a few candles.” 
 
 Elizabeth and her father continued . silent, for 
 both experienced the same sensation on entering 
 the hall. The former had resided one year in the 
 building before she left home for school, and the 
 figure of its lamented mistress was missed by 
 both husband and child. 
 
 But candles had been placed in the chande- 
 liers and lustres, and the attendants were so 
 far recovered from surprise as to recollect their 
 use; the oversight was immediately remedied, 
 and in a minute the apartment was in a blaze of 
 light. 
 
 The slight melancholy of our heroine and 
 her father was banished by this brilliant inter- 
 ruption ; and the whole party began to lay aside 
 the numberless garments they had worn in the 
 air. 
 
 During this operation, Richard kept up a des- 
 ultory dialogue with the different domestics, oc- 
 casionally throwing out a remark to the Judge 
 concerning the deer ; but as his conversation at 
 such moments was much like an accompaniment 
 on a piano, a thing that is heard without being 
 attended to, we will not undertake the task of re- 
 cording his diffuse discourse. 
 
 The instant that Remarkable Pettibone had 
 executed her portion of the labor in illuminating, 
 she returned to a position near Elizabeth, with 
 the apparent motive of receiving the clothes that 
 the other threw aside, but in reality to examine, 
 with an air of curiosity — not unmixed with jeal- 
 ousy — the appearance of the lady who was to 
 supplant her in the administration of their do- 
 mestic economy. The housekeeper felt a little 
 appalled, when, after cloaks, coats, shawls, and 
 socks, had been taken off in succession, the large 
 black hood was removed, and the dark ringlets, 
 shining like the raven’s wing, fell from her head, 
 and left the sweet but commanding features of 
 the young lady exposed to view. Nothing could 
 be fairer and more spotless than the forehead of 
 Elizabeth, and preserve the appearance of life 
 and health. Her nose would have been called 
 Grecian, but for a softly-rounded swell, that gave 
 in character to the feature what it lost in beauty. 
 Her mouth, at first sight, seemed only made for 
 love ; but, the instant that its muscles moved, 
 every expression that womanly dignity could ut- 
 ter, played around it with the flexibility of female 
 grace. It spoke not only to the ear, but to the 
 eye. So much, added to a form of exquisite pro- 
 portions, rather full and rounded for her years, 
 and of the tallest medium height, she inherited 
 from her mothei’. Even the color of her eye, the 
 arched brows, and the long silken lashes, came 
 from the same source ; but its expression was 
 her father’s. Inert and composed, it was soft, 
 benevolent, and attractive ; but it could be 
 roused, and that without much difficulty. At 
 such moments it was still beautiful, though it was 
 a little severe. As the last shawl fell aside, anc 
 she stood dressed in a rich blue riding-habit, that 
 fitted her form with the nicest exactness ; her 
 cheeks burning with roses, that bloomed the rich- 
 er for the heat of the hall, and her eyes slightly 
 suffused with moisture that rendered their ordi- 
 nary beauty more dazzling, and with every feat- 
 ure of her speaking countenance illuminated by 
 
30 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 the lights that flared around her, Remarkable felt 
 that her own power had ended. 
 
 The business of unrobing had been simulta- 
 neous. Marmaduke appeared in a suit of plain, 
 neat black ; Monsieur Le Quoi, in a coat of snuff 
 color, covering a vest of embroidery, with 
 breeches, and silk stockings, and buckles — that 
 were commonly thought to be of paste. Major 
 Hartmann wore a coat of sky-blue, with large 
 brass buttons, a club-wig, and boots ; and Mr. 
 Richard Jones had set off his dapper little form 
 in a frock of bottle-green, with bullet-buttons, by 
 one of which the sides were united over his well- 
 rounded waist, opening above, so as to show a 
 jacket of red cloth, with an under-vest of flannel, 
 faced with green velvet, and below, so as to ex- 
 hibit a pair of buckskin breeches, with long, 
 Eoiled, white top-boots, and spurs ; one of the 
 latter a little bent, from its recent attacks on the 
 stool. 
 
 When the young lady had extricated herself 
 from her garments, she was at liberty to gaze 
 about her, and to examine not only the house- 
 hold over which she was to preside, but also the 
 air and manner in which their domestic arrange- 
 ments were conducted. Although there was 
 much incongruity in the furniture and appearance 
 of the hall, there was nothing mean. The floor was 
 carpeted, even in its remotest corners. The brass 
 candlesticks, the gilt lustres, and the glass chan- 
 deliers, whatever might be their keeping as to pro- 
 priety and taste, were admirably kept as to all 
 the purposes of use and comfort. They were 
 clean and glittering in the strong light of the 
 apartment. Compared with the chill aspect of 
 the December night without, the warmth and 
 brilliancy of the apartment produced an effect 
 that was not unlike enchantment. Her eye had 
 not time to detect, in detail, the little errors, 
 which, in truth, existed, but was glancing around 
 her in delight, when an object arrested her view, 
 that was in strong contrast to the smiling faces 
 and neatly-attired personages who had thus as- 
 sembled to do honor to the heiress of Templeton. 
 
 In a corner of the hall near the grand en- 
 trance, stood the young hunter, unnoticed, and 
 for the moment apparently forgotten. But even 
 the forgetfulness of the Judge, which, under the 
 influence of strong emotion, had banished the rec- 
 ollection of the wound of this stranger, seemed 
 surpassed by the absence of mind in the youth 
 himself. On entering the apartment, he had me- 
 chanically lifted his cap, and exposed a bead cov- 
 ered with hair that rivalled, in color and gloss, 
 the locks of Elizabeth. Nothing could have 
 wrought a greater transformation than the single 
 
 act of removing the rough foxskin cap. If there 
 was much that was prepossessing in the counte- 
 nance of the young hunter, there was something 
 even noble in the rounded outlines of his head 
 and brow. The very air and manner with which 
 the member haughtily maintained itself over the 
 coarse and even wild attire in which the rest of 
 his frame was clad, bespoke not only familiarity 
 with a splendor that in those new settlements 
 was thought to be unequalled, but something 
 very like contempt also. 
 
 The hand that held the cap rested lightly on 
 the little ivory-mounted piano of Elizabeth, with 
 neither rustic restraint nor obtrusive vulgarity. 
 A single finger touched the instrument, as if ac- 
 customed to dwell on such places. His other 
 arm was extended to its utmost length, and the 
 hand grasped the barrel of his long rifle with 
 something like convulsive energy. The act and 
 the attitude were both involuntary, and evidently 
 proceeded from a feeling much deeper than that 
 of vulgar surprise. His appearance, connected 
 as it was with the rough exterior of his dress, 
 rendered him entirely distinct from the busy 
 group that were moving across the other end of* 
 the long hall, occupied in receiving the travellers 
 and exchanging their welcomes ; and Elizabeth 
 continued to gaze at him in wonder. The con- 
 traction of the stranger’s brows increased as his 
 eyes moved slowly from one object to another. 
 For moments the expression of his countenance 
 was fierce, and then again it seemed to pass away 
 in some painful emotion. The arm that was ex- 
 tended bent, and brought the hand nigh to his 
 face, when his head dropped upon it, and con- 
 cealed the wonderfully speaking lineaments. 
 
 “ We forget, dear sir, the strange gentleman” 
 (for her life, Elizabeth could not call him other- 
 wise), “whom we have brought here for assist 
 ance, and to whom we owe every attention.” 
 
 All eyes were instantly turned in the direction 
 of those of the speaker, and the youth rather 
 proudly elevated his head again, while he an- 
 swered : 
 
 “My wound is trifling, and I believe that 
 Judge Temple sent for a physician the moment we 
 arrived.” 
 
 “ Certainly,” said Marmaduke ; “ I have not 
 forgotten the object of thy visit, young man, nor 
 the nature of my debt.” 
 
 “ Oh ! ” exclaimed Richard, with something of 
 a Waggish leer, “ thou owest the lad for the venison, 
 I suppose, that thou killed, cousin ’duke ! Marma- 
 duke ! Marmaduke ! That was a marvellous tale of 
 thine about the buck ! Here, young man, are two 
 dollars for the deer, and Judge Temple can do n« 
 
DOCTOR ELNATHAN TODD. 
 
 31 
 
 less than pay the doctor. I shall charge you noth- 
 ing for my services, but you shall not fare the 
 worst for that. Come, come, ’duke, don’t be 
 down-hearted about it: if you missed the buck, 
 you contrived to shoot this poor fellow through a 
 pine-tree. Now I own that you have beat me ; I 
 never did such a thing in all my life.” 
 
 “ And I hope never will,” returned the Judge, 
 “ if you are to experience the uneasiness that I 
 have suffered. But be of good cheer, my young 
 friend, the injury must be small, as thou movest 
 thy arm with apparent freedom.” 
 
 “ Don’t make the matter worse, ’duke, by pre- 
 tending to talk about surgery,” interrupted Mr. 
 Jones, with a contemptuous wave of the hand; 
 “ it is a science that can only be learnt by practice. 
 You know that my grandfather was a doctor, but 
 you haven’t got a drop of medical blood in your 
 veins. These kind of things run in families. All 
 my family by the father’s side had a knack at 
 physic. There was my uncle that was killed at 
 Brandywine — he died as easy again as any other 
 man in the regiment, just from knowing how to 
 hold his breath naturally. Few men know how to 
 breathe naturally.” 
 
 “ I doubt not, Dickon,” returned the Judge, 
 meeting the bright smile which, in spite of him. 
 self, stole over the stranger’s features, “ that thy 
 family thoroughly understood the art of letting 
 life slip through their fingers.” 
 
 Richard heard him quite coolly, and putting a 
 hand in either pocket of his surtout, so as to press 
 forward the skirts, began to whistle a tune ; but 
 the desire to reply overcame his philosophy, and 
 with great heat he exclaimed : 
 
 “You may affect to smile, Judge Temple, at 
 hereditary virtues, if you please : but there is not 
 a man on your Patent who don’t know better. 
 Here, ‘even this young man, who has never seen 
 anything but bears, and deer, and woodchucks, 
 knows better than to believe virtues are not trans- 
 mitted in families. Don’t you, friend ? ” 
 
 “ I believe that vice is not,” said the stranger 
 abruptly— his eye glancing from the father to the 
 daughter. 
 
 “ The squire is right, Judge,” observed Ben- 
 jamin, with a knowing nod of his head toward 
 Richard, that bespoke the cordiality between 
 them. “Now, in the old country, the king’s maj- 
 esty touches for the evil, and that is a disorder 
 thatihe greatest doctor in the fleet, or, for the 
 matter of that, admiral either, can’t cure ; only 
 the king’s majesty, or a man that’s been hanged. 
 Yes, the squire is right ; for if so be that he wasn’t, 
 how is it that the seventh son always is a doctor 
 whether he ships for the cockpit or not ? Now’ 
 
 when we fell in with the mounsheers, under De 
 Grasse, d’ye see, we had aboard of us a doc- 
 tor — ” 
 
 “ Very well, Benjamin,” interrupted Elizabeth, 
 glancing her eyes from the hunter to Monsieur 
 Le Quoi, who was most politely attending to what 
 fell from each individual in succession, “ you shall 
 tell me of that, and all your entertaining adven- 
 tures together; just now, a room must be pre- 
 pared, in which the arm of this gentleman can 
 be dressed.” 
 
 “ I will attend to that myself, cousin Eliza- 
 beth,” observed Richard, somewhat haughtily. 
 “ The young man will not suffer because Marma- 
 duke chooses to be a little obstinate. Follow 
 me, my friend, and I will examine the hurt mv- 
 self.” 
 
 “It will be well to wait for the physician,” 
 said the hunter, coldly; “he cannot be distant.” 
 
 Richard paused and looked at the speaker, a 
 little astonished at the language, and a good deal 
 appalled at the refusal. He construed the latter 
 into an act of hostility, and, placing his hands in 
 the pockets again, he walked up to Mr. Grant, and, 
 putting his face close to the countenance of the 
 divine, said in an undertone : 
 
 “Now, mark my words— there will be a 
 story among the settlers, that all our necks would 
 have been broken but for that fellow— as if I did 
 not know how to drive. Why, you might have 
 turned the horses yourself, sir; nothing was 
 easier ; it was only pulling hard on the nigh rein, 
 and touching the off flank of the leader. I hope, 
 my dear sir, you are not at all hurt by the upset 
 the lad gave us ? ” 
 
 The reply was interrupted by the entrance of 
 the village physician. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 “ And about his shelves, 
 
 A beggarly account of empty boxes, 
 
 Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds, 
 Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of rcees, 
 Were thinly scattered to make up a show.” 
 
 SlIAKESFEAEE. 
 
 Doctor Elnathan Todd, for such was the 
 name of the man of physic, was commonly thought 
 to be, among the settlers, a gentleman of great 
 mental endowments ; and he was assuredly ot 
 rare personal proportions. In height he meas- 
 ured, without his shoes, exactly six feet and four 
 inches. His hands, feet, and knees, correspond- 
 ed in every respect with this formidable stature ; 
 but every other part of his frame appeared to 
 
32 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 have been intended for a man several sizes small 
 er, if we except the length of the limbs. His 
 shoulders were square, in one sense at least, be- 
 ing in a right line from one side to the other ; 
 but they were so narrow, that the long dangling 
 arms they supported seemed to issue out of his 
 back. His neck possessed, in an eminent degree, 
 the property of length to which we have alluded, 
 and it was topped by a small bullet-head that 
 exhibited, on one side, a bush of bristling brown 
 hair, and, on the other, a short, twinkling visage, 
 that appeared to maintain a constant struggle 
 with itself in order to look wise. He was the 
 youngest son of a farmer in the western part of 
 Massachusetts, who, being in somewhat easy cir- 
 cumstances, had allowed this boy to shoot up to 
 the height we have mentioned, without the ordi- 
 nary interruptions of field-labor, wood-chopping, 
 and such other toils as were imposed on his 
 brothers. Elnathan was indebted for this ex- 
 emption from labor in some measure to his ex- 
 traordinary growth, which, leaving him pale, inani- 
 mate, and listless, induced his tender mother to 
 pronounce him “a sickly boy, and one that was 
 not equal to work, but who might earn a living, 
 comfortably enough, by taking to pleading law, 
 or turning minister, or doctoring, or some such 
 like easy calling.” Still, there was great uncer- 
 tainty which of these vocations the youth was 
 best endowed to fill ; but, having no other em- 
 ployment, the stripling was constantly lounging 
 about the “ homestead,” munching green apples, 
 and hunting for sorrel ; when the same sagacious 
 eye that had brought to light his latent talents, 
 seized upon this circumstance, as a clew to his 
 future path through the turmoils of the world. 
 “Elnathan was cut out for a doctor, she knew, 
 for he was forever digging for herbs, and tasting 
 all kinds of things that grow’d about the lots. 
 Then again he had a natural love for doctor- 
 stuff, for when she had left the bilious pills out 
 for her man, all nicely covered with maple sugar, 
 just ready to take, Nathan had come in, and 
 swallowed them, for all the world as if they were 
 nothing, while Ichabod (her husband) could never 
 get one down without making such desperate 
 faces, that it was awful to look on.” 
 
 This discovery decided the matter. Elnathan, 
 then about fifteen, was, much like a wild colt, 
 caught and trimmed by clipping his bushy locks ; 
 dressed in a suit of homespun, dyed in the butter- 
 nut bark ; furnished with a “ New Testament,” and 
 a “ Webster’s Spelling Book,” and sent to school. 
 As the boy was by nature quite shrewd enough, 
 and had previously, at odd times, laid the foun- 
 dations of reading, writing, and arithmetic, he 
 
 was soon conspicuous in the school for his learn- 
 ing. The delighted mother had the gratification 
 of hearing, from the lips of the master, that her 
 son was a “ prodigious boy, and far above all his 
 class.” He also thought that “the youth had a 
 natural love for doctoring, . as he had known 
 him frequently advise the smaller children againsfc 
 eating too much; and, once or twice,; when the 
 ignorant little things had persevered -in opposition 
 to Elnathan’ s advice, he had known her son emp- 
 ty the school-baskets with his own mouth, to 
 prevent the consequences.” 
 
 Soon after this comfortable declaration from 
 his schoolmaster, the lad was removed to the 
 house of the village doctor, a gentleman whose 
 early career had not been unlike that of our hero, 
 where he was to be seen, sometimes watering a 
 horse, at others watering medicines, blue, yellow, 
 and red ; then again, he might be noticed, lolling 
 under an apple-tree, with Ruddiman’s Latin Gram- 
 mar in his hand, and a corner of Denman’s Mid- 
 wifery sticking out of a pocket ; for his instruc- 
 tor held it absurd to teach his pupil how to 
 dispatch a patient regularly from this world, be- 
 fore he knew how to bring him into it. 
 
 This kind of life continued fora twelvemonth, 
 when he suddenly appeared at meeting in a long 
 coat (and well did it deserve the name !,) of black 
 homespun, with little bootees, bound with un- 
 colored calf-skin, for the want of red morocco. / 
 
 Soon after he was seen shaving with a dull 
 razor. Three or four months had scarce elapsed 
 before several elderly ladies were observed hasten- 
 ing toward the house of a poor woman in the 
 village, while others were running to and fro in 
 great apparent distress. — One or two boys were 
 mounted, bareback, on horses, and sent off at 
 speed in various directions. Several indirect 
 questions were put concerning the place where 
 the physician was last seen ; but all would not 
 do ; and at length Elnathan was seen issuing from 
 his door with a very grave air, preceded by a lit- 
 tle white-headed boy, out of breath, trotting be- 
 fore him. The following day the youth appeared 
 in the street, as the highway was called, and the 
 neighborhood was much edified by the additional 
 gravity of his air. The same week he bought a 
 new razor : and the succeeding Sunday he entered 
 the meeting-house with a red silk handkerchief in 
 his hand, and with an extremely demure coun- 
 tenance. In the evening he called upon a young 
 woman of his own class in life, for there were no 
 others to be found, and, when he was left alone 
 with the fair, he was called for, the first time in 
 his life, Doctor Todd, by her prudent mother. 
 The ice once broken in this, manner, Elnatbas 
 
THE DOCTOR’S SUCCESSFUL PRACTICE. 
 
 33 
 
 was greeted from every mouth with his official 
 appellation. 
 
 Another year passed under the superintend- 
 ence of the same master, during which the 
 young physician had the credit of “ riding with 
 the old doctor,” although they were generally ob- 
 served to travel different roads. At the end of 
 that period, Dr. Todd attained his legal majority. 
 He then took a jaunt to Boston to purchase 
 medicines, and, as some intimated, to walk the 
 hospital ; we know not how the latter might have 
 been, but, if true, he soon walked through it, for 
 he returned within a fortnight, bringing with him 
 a suspicious-looking box, that smelled powerfully 
 of brimstone. 
 
 The next Sunday he was married: and the 
 following morning he entered a one-horse sleigh 
 with his bride, having before him the box we 
 have mentioned, with another filled with home- 
 made household linen, a paper-covered trunk, 
 with a red umbrella lashed to it, a pair of quite 
 new saddle-bags, and a bandbox. The next in- 
 telligence that his friends received of the bride 
 and bridegroom was, that the latter was “ settled 
 in the new countries, and well to do as a doctor 
 in Templeton, in York State ! ” 
 
 If a Templar would smile at the qualifications 
 of Marmaduke to fill the judicial seat he occu- 
 pied, we are certain that a graduate of Leyden or 
 Edinburgh would be extremely amused with this 
 true narration of the servitude of Elnathan in the 
 temple of iEsculapius. But the same consolation 
 was afforded to both the jurist and the leech ; for 
 Dr. Todd was quite as much on a level with his 
 compeers of the profession in that country, as 
 was Marmaduke with his brethren on the bench. 
 
 Time and practice did wonders for the phy- 
 sician. He was naturally humane, but possessed 
 of no small share of moral courage ; or, in other 
 words, he was chary of the lives of his patients, 
 and never tried uncertain experiments on such 
 members of society as were considered useful; 
 but, once or twice, when luckless vagrant had 
 come under his care, he was a little addicted to 
 trying the effects of every phial in his saddle-bags 
 on the stranger’s constitution. Happily their 
 number was small, and in most cases their na- 
 tures innocent. By these means Elnathan had 
 acquired a certain degree of knowledge in fevers 
 and agues, and could talk with much judgment 
 concerning intermittents, remittents, tertians, 
 quotidians, etc. In certain cutaneous disorders 
 very prevalent in new settlements, he was con- 
 sidered to be infallible ; and there was no wom- 
 an on the Patent but would as soon think of 
 bocoming a mother without a husband as without 
 42 
 
 the assistance of Dr. Todd. In short, he was 
 rearing, on this foundation of sand, a superstruct- 
 ure cemented by practice, though composed of 
 somewhat brittle materials. He however occa- 
 sionally renewed his elementary studies, and, with 
 the observation of a shrewd mind, was comfort- 
 ably applying his practice to his theory. 
 
 In surgery, having the least experience, and it 
 being a business that spoke directly to the senses, 
 he was most apt to distrust his own powers : but 
 he had applied oils to several burns, cut round 
 the roots of sundry defective teeth, and sewed up 
 the wounds of numberless wood-choppers, with 
 considerable eclat , when an unfortunate jobber * 
 suffered a fracture of his leg by the tree that he 
 had been felling. It was on this occasion that 
 our hero encountered the greatest trial his nerves 
 and moral feeling had ever sustained. In the 
 hour of need, however, he was not found wanting. 
 — Most of the amputations in the new settle- 
 ments, and they were quite frequent, were per- 
 formed by some one practitioner, who, possessing 
 originally a reputation, was enabled by this cir- 
 cumstance to acquire an experience that rendered 
 him deserving of it ; and Elnathan had been pres- 
 ent at one or two of these operations. But on 
 the present occasion the man of practice was net 
 to be obtained, and the duty fell, as a matter of 
 course, to the share of Mr. Todd. He went to 
 work with a kind of blind desperation, observing, 
 at the same time, all the externals of decent grav- 
 ity and great skill. The sufferer’s name was 
 Milligan, and it was to this event that Richard 
 alluded, when he spoke of assisting the doctor at 
 an amputation — by holding the leg ! The limb 
 was certainly cut off, and the patient survived the 
 operation. It was, however, two years before 
 poor Milligan ceased to complain, that they 
 had buried the leg in so narrow a box that it 
 was straitened for room ; he could feel the pain 
 shooting up from the inhumed fragment into the 
 living members. Marmaduke suggested that the 
 fault might lie in the arteries and nerves : but 
 Richard, considering the amputation as part of 
 his own handiwork, strongly repelled the insinua- 
 tion, at the same time declaring that he had often 
 heard of men who could tell when it was about to 
 rain, by the toes of amputated limbs. After two 
 or three years, notwithstanding Milligan’s com- 
 plaints gradually diminished, the leg was dug 
 up, and a larger box furnished, and from that 
 hour no one had heard the sufferer utter another 
 complaint on the subject. This gave the public 
 great confidence in Dr. Todd, whose reputation 
 
 ♦Peoplo who clear land by the acre or job are thus 
 called. 
 
34 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 was hourly increasing, and, luckily for his pa- 
 tients, his information also. 
 
 Notwithstanding Dr. Todd’s practice, and his 
 success with the leg, he was not a little appalled 
 on entering the hall of the mansion-house. It 
 was glaring with the light of day ; it looked so 
 imposing, compared with the hastily-built and 
 scantily-furnished apartments which he frequented 
 in his ordinary practice, and contained so many well- 
 dressed persons and anxious faces, that his usually 
 firm nerves were a good deal discomposed. He 
 had heard from the messenger who summoned him, 
 that it was a gunshot-wound, and had come from 
 his own home, wading through the snow, with his 
 saddle-bags thrown over his arm, while separated 
 arteries, penetrated lungs, and injured vitals, were 
 whirling through his brain, as if he were stalking 
 over a field of battle, instead of Judge Temple’s 
 peaceable' enclosure. 
 
 The first object that met his eye, as he moved 
 into the room, was Elizabeth in her riding-habit, 
 richly laced with gold cord, her fine form bending 
 toward him, and her face expressing deep anxiety 
 in every one of its beautiful features. The enor- 
 mous bony knees of the physician struck each 
 other with a noise that was audible ; for, in the 
 absent state of his mind, he mistook her for a 
 general officer, perforated with bullets, hastening 
 from the field of battle to implore assistance. The 
 delusion, however, was but momentary, and his 
 eye glanced rapidly from the daughter to the earn- 
 est dignity of the father’s countenance : thence 
 to the busy strut of Richard, who was cooling his 
 impatience at the hunter’s indifference to his as- 
 sistance, by pacing the hall and cracking his 
 whip ; from him to the Frenchman, who had stood 
 for several minutes unheeded with a chair for the 
 lady ; thence to Major Hartmann, who was very 
 coolly lighting a pipe three feet long by a candle 
 in one of the chandeliers ; thence to Mr. Grant, 
 who was turning over a manuscript with much 
 earnestness at one of the lustres ; thence to Re- 
 markable, who stood, with her arms demurely 
 folded before her, surveying, with a look of admi- 
 ration and envy, the dress and beauty of the young 
 lady; and from her to Benjamin, who, with his 
 feet standing wide apart, and his arms a-kimbo, 
 was balancing his square little body, with the in- 
 difference of one who is accustomed to wounds 
 and bloodshed. All of these seemed to be unhurt, 
 and the operator began to breathe more freely ; 
 but, before he had time to take a second look, 
 the Judge, advancing, shook him kindly by the 
 hand, and spoke : 
 
 “ Thou art welcome, my good sir, quite wel- 
 come, indeed ; here is a youth whom I have un- 
 
 fortunately wounded in shooting a deer this even- 
 ing, and who requires some of thy assistance.” 
 
 “ Shooting at a deer, ’duke,” interrupted Rich- 
 ard— “ shooting at a deer. Who do you think 
 can prescribe, unless he knows the truth of the 
 case ? It is always so with some people ; they 
 think a doctor can be deceived with the same im- 
 punity as another man.” 
 
 “Shooting at a deer, truly,” returned the 
 Judge, smiling, “ although it is by no means cer- 
 tain that I did not aid in destroying the buck ; 
 but the youth is injured by my hand, be that as 
 it may; and it is thy skill that must cure him, 
 and my pocket shall amply reward thee for it.” 
 
 “Two ver good tings to depend on,” observed 
 Monsieur Le Quoi, bowing politely, with a sweep 
 of his head, to the Judge and the practitioner. 
 
 “ I thank you, monsieur,” returned the Judge ; 
 
 “ but we keep the young man in pain. Remark- 
 able, thou wilt please to provide linen for lint 
 and bandages.” 
 
 This remark caused a cessation of the com- 
 pliments, and induced the physician to turn an 
 inquiring eye in the direction of his patient. 
 During the dialogue the young hunter had thrown 
 aside his overcoat, and now stood clad in a plain 
 suit of the common, light-colored homespun of 
 the country, that was evidently but recently made. 
 His hand was on the lapels of his coat, in the 
 attitude of removing the garment, when he sud- 
 denly suspended the movement, and looked to- 
 ward the commiserating Elizabeth, who was stand- 
 ing in an unchanged posture, too much absorbed 
 with her anxious feelings to heed his actions. A 
 slight color appeared on the brow of the youth. 
 
 “ Possibly the sight of blood may alarm the 
 lady; I will retire to another room while the 
 wound is dressing.” 
 
 « By no means,” said Dr. Todd, who, having 
 discovered that his patient was far from being a 
 man of importance, felt much emboldened to per- 
 form the duty. “ The strong light of these can- 
 dles is favorable to the operation, and it is sel- 
 dom that we hard students enjoy good eyesight.” 
 
 While speaking, Elnathan placed a pair of 
 large iron-rimmed spectacles on his face, where 
 they dropped, as it were by long practice, to the 
 extremity of his slim pug nose; and, if they were 
 of no service as assistants to his eyes, neither 
 were they any impediment to his vision ; for his 
 little gray organs were twinkling above them, 
 like two stars emerging from the envious cover 
 of a cloud. The action was unheeded by all but 
 Remarkable, who observed to Benjamin : 
 
 “ Dr. Todd is a comely man to look on, and 
 despu’t pretty. How well he seems in spectacles 1 
 
A SURGICAL OPERATION. 
 
 35 
 
 I declare, they give a grand look to a body’s 
 face. I have quite a great mind to try them my- 
 self.” 
 
 The speech of the stranger recalled the recol- 
 lection of Miss Temple, who started, as if from 
 deep abstraction, and, coloring excessively, she mo- 
 tioned to a young woman who served in the ca- 
 pacity of maid, and retired with an air of woman- 
 ly reserve. 
 
 The field was now left to the physician and 
 his patient, while the different personages who 
 remained gathered around the latter, with faces 
 expressing the various degrees of interest that 
 each one felt in his condition. Major Hartmann 
 alone retained his seat, where he continued to 
 throw out vast quantities of smoke, now rolling 
 his eyes up to the ceiling, as if musing on the un- 
 certainty of life, and now bending them on the 
 wounded man, with an expression that bespoke 
 some consciousness of his situation. 
 
 In the mean time Elnathan, to whom the sight 
 of a gunshot-wound was a perfect novelty, com- 
 menced his preparations with a solemnity and 
 care that were worthy of the occasion. An old 
 shirt was procured by Benjamin, and placed in 
 the hands of the other, who tore divers bandages 
 from it, with an exactitude that marked both his 
 own skill and the importance of the operation. 
 
 When this preparatory measure was taken, 
 Dr. Todd selected a piece of the shirt with great 
 care, and handing it to Mr. Jones, without moving 
 a muscle, said : 
 
 “ Here, Squire Jones, you are well acquainted 
 with these things ; will you please to scrape the 
 lint? It should be fine and soft, you know, my 
 dear sir ; and be cautious that no cotton gets in, 
 or it may p’izen the wound. The shirt has been 
 made with cotton thread, but you can easily pick 
 it out.” 
 
 Richard assumed the office, with a nod at his 
 cousin, that said quite plainly — “ You see this 
 fellow can’t get along without me ; ” and began 
 to scrape the linen on his knee with great dili- 
 gence. 
 
 A table was now spread with phials, boxes of 
 salve, and divers surgical instruments. As the 
 latter appeared in succession, from a caste of red 
 morocco, their owner held up each implement to 
 the strong light of the chandelier, near to which 
 he stood, and examined it with the nicest care. 
 A red silk-handkerchief was frequently applied to 
 the glittering steel, as if to remove from the polished 
 surfaces the least impediment which might exist 
 to the most delicate operation. After the rather 
 .scantily furnished pocket-case which contained 
 these instruments was exhausted, the physician 
 
 turned to his saddle-bags, and produced various 
 phials, filled with liquids of the most radiant col- 
 ors. These were arranged in due order, by the 
 side of the murderous saws, knives, and scissors, 
 when Elnathan stretched his long body to its ut- 
 most elevation, placing his hand on the small of 
 his back, as if for support, and looked about him 
 to discover what effect this display of professional 
 skill was likely to produce on the spectators. 
 
 “ Upon my wort, toctor,” observed Major 
 Hartmann, with a roguish roll of his little black 
 eyes, but with every other feature of his face in 
 a state of perfect rest, “put you have a very 
 pretty pocket-book of tools tere, and your toctor- 
 stuff glitters as if it was petter for ter eyes as for 
 ter pelly.” 
 
 Elnathan gave a hem — one that might have 
 been equally taken for that kind of noise which 
 cowards are said to make, in order to awaken 
 their dormant courage, or for a natural effort to 
 clear the throat ; if for the latter, it was success- 
 ful ; for, turning his face to the veteran German, 
 he said : 
 
 “ Very true, Major Hartmann, very true, sir ; 
 a prudent man will always strive to make liis 
 remedies agreeable to the eyes, though they may 
 not altogether suit the stomach. It is no small 
 part of our art, 6ir,” and he now spoke with the 
 confidence of a man who understood his subject, 
 “ to reconcile the patient to what is for his own 
 good, though at the same time it may be unpala- 
 table.” 
 
 “ Sartain ! Dr. Todd is right,” said Remark- 
 able, “ and has Scripter for what he says. The 
 Bible tells us how things may be sweet to the 
 mouth, and bitter to the inwards.” 
 
 “ True, true,” interrupted the Judge, a little 
 impatiently ; “ but here 4s a youth who needs no 
 deception to lure him to his own benefit. I see, 
 by his eye, that he fears nothing more than de- 
 lay.” 
 
 The stranger bad, without assistance, bared 
 his own shoulder, when the slight perforation 
 produced by the passage of the buck-shot was 
 plainly visible. The intense cold of the evening 
 had stopped the bleeding, and Dr. Todd, casting 
 a furtive glance at the wound, thought it by no 
 means so formidable an affair as he had antici- 
 pated. Thus encouraged he approached his pa- 
 tient, and made some indication of an intention 
 to trace the route that had been taken by the 
 lead. 
 
 Remarkable often found occasions, in after 
 days, to recount the minutiae of that celebrated 
 operation ; and when she arrived at this point 
 she commonly proceeded as follows : “ And then 
 
36 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 the doctor tuck out of the pocket-book a long 
 thing, like a knitting-needle, with a button fast- 
 ened to the end on’t ; and then he pushed it in- 
 to the wownd ; and then the young man looked 
 awful ; and then I thought I should have swaned 
 away— I felt in sitch a dispu’t taking ; and then 
 the doctor had run it right through his shoulder, 
 and shoved the bullet out on t’other side ; and so 
 Dr. Todd cured the young man — of a ball that 
 the Judge had shot into him, for all the world as 
 easy as I could pick out a splinter with my darn- 
 ing-needle.” 
 
 Such were the impressions of Remarkable on 
 the subject ; and such doubtless were the opin- 
 ions of most of those who felt it necessary to en- 
 tertain a species of religious veneration for the 
 skill of Elnathan; but such was far from the 
 truth. 
 
 When the physician attempted to introduce 
 the instrument described by Remarkable, he was 
 repulsed by the stranger, with a good deal of de- 
 cision, and some little contempt, in his manner. 
 
 “ I believe, sir,” he said, “ that a probe is not 
 necessary ; the shot has missed the bone, and 
 has passed directly through the arm to the oppo- 
 site side, where it remains but skin-deep, and 
 whence, I should think, it might be easily ex- 
 tracted.” 
 
 “ The gentleman Knows best,” said Dr. Todd, 
 laying down the probe with the air of a man who 
 had assumed it merely in compliance with forms ; 
 and, turning to Richard, he fingered the lint with 
 the appearance of great care and foresight. 
 “Admirably we-11 scraped, Squire Jones! it is 
 about the best lint I have ever seen. I want 
 your assistance, my good sir, to hold the patient’s 
 arm while I make an incision for the ball. Now, 
 
 I rather guess there is* not another gentleman 
 present who could scrape the lint so well as Squire 
 Jones.” 
 
 “Such things run in families,” observed 
 Richard, rising with alacrity to render the desired 
 assistance. “ My father, and my grandfather be- 
 fore him, were both celebrated for their knowl- 
 edge of surgery ; they were not, like Marmaduke 
 here, puffed up with an accidental thing, such as 
 the time when he drew in the hip -joint of the 
 man who was thrown from his horse ; that was 
 the fall before you came into the settlement, doc- 
 tor; but they were men who were taught the 
 thing regularly, spending half their lives in learn- 
 ing those little niceties ; though, for the matter 
 of that, my grandfather was a college-bred physi- 
 cian, and the best in the colony, too — that is, in 
 his neighborhood.” 
 
 “So it goc3 with the world, squire,” cried 
 
 Benjamin, “ if-so-be that a man wants to walk 
 the quarter-deck with credit, d’ye see, and with 
 regular built swabs on his shoulders, he mustn’t 
 think to do it by getting in at the cabin-windows. 
 There are two ways to get into a top, besides 
 the lubber-holes. The true way to walk aft is to 
 begin forrard ; tho’f it be only in a humble way, 
 like myself, d’ye see, which was, from being only 
 a hander of top-gallant-sails, and a stower of the 
 flying-jib, to keeping the key of the captain’s 
 locker.” 
 
 “ Benjamin speaks quite to the purpose,” con- 
 tinued Richard. “ I dare say that he has often 
 seen shot extracted in the different ships in which 
 he has served ; suppose we get him to hold the 
 basin ; he must be used to the sight of blood.” 
 
 “That he is, squire, that he is,” interrupted 
 the ci-devant steward ; “ many’s the good shot, 
 round, double-headed, and grape, that I’ve seen 
 the doctors at work on. For the matter of that, 
 I was in a boat, alongside the ship, when they cut 
 out the twelve-pound shot from the thigh of the 
 captain of the Foodyrong, one of Mounsheer Ler 
 Quaw’s countrymen ! ” * 
 
 “A twelve-pound ball from the thigh of a 
 human being ? ” exclaimed Mr. Grant, with great 
 simplicity, dropping the sermon he was again 
 reading, and raising his spectacles to the top of 
 his forehead. 
 
 “ A twelve-pounder ! ” echoed Benjamin, star- 
 ing around him with much confidence ; “ a twelve- 
 pounder ! ay ! a twenty-four- pound shot can easily 
 be taken from a man’s body, if-so-be a doctor only 
 knows how. There’s Squire Jones, now, ask him, 
 sir ; he reads all the books ; ask him if he never 
 fell in with a page that keeps the reckoning of 
 such things.” 
 
 “Certainly, more important operations than 
 that have been performed,” observed Richard ; 
 “ the encyclopaedia mentions much more incredi- 
 ble circumstances than that, as, I dare say, you 
 know, Doctor Todd.” 
 
 “ Certainly, there are incredible tales told in the 
 I encyclopaedias,” returned Elnathan, “though I 
 cannot say that I have ever seen, myself, any 
 thing larger than a musket-bullet extracted.” 
 
 During this discourse an incision had been 
 made through the skin of the young hunter’s 
 shoulder, and the lead was laid bare. Elnathan 
 took a pair of glittering forceps, and was in the 
 act of applying them to the wound, when a sud- 
 den motion of the patient caused the shot to fall 
 
 * It is possible that the reader may start at this declara- 
 tion of Benjamin, but those who have lived in the new 
 •ettlements of America are too much accustomed to hear 
 <rf these European exploits to doubt it. 
 
DIVISION OF THE INDIAN TRIBES. 
 
 37 
 
 out of itself. The long arm and broad hand of 
 the operator were now of singular service ; for 
 tlie latter expanded itself, and caught the lead, 
 while at the same time an extremely ambiguous 
 motion was made by its brother, so as to leave it 
 doubtful to the spectators how great was its 
 agency in releasing the shot. Richard, however, 
 put the matter at rest by exclaiming : 
 
 “Very neatly done, doctor! I have never 
 seen a shot more neatly extracted ; and, I dare 
 say, Benjamin will say the same.” 
 
 “Why, considering,” returned Benjamin, “I 
 must say that it was ship-shape, and Brister- 
 fashion. — Now all that the doctor has to do, is to 
 clap a couple of plugs in the holes, and the lad 
 will float in any gale that blows in these here 
 hills.” 
 
 “ I thank you, sir, for what you have done,” 
 said the youth, with a little distance ; “ but here 
 is a man who will take me under his care, and 
 spare you all, gentlemen, any further trouble on 
 my account.” 
 
 The whole group turned their heads in sur- 
 prise, and beheld, standing at one of the distant 
 doors of the hall, the person of Indian John. 
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 “ From Susquehanna’s utmost springs, 
 
 Where savage tribes pursue their game, 
 
 His blanket tied with yellow strings, 
 
 The shepherd of the forest came.” 
 
 Freneau. 
 
 Before the Europeans, or, to use a more sig- 
 nificant term, the Christians, dispossessed the 
 original owners of the soil, all that section of 
 country which contains the New-England States 
 and those of the Middle which lie east of the 
 mountains, was occupied by two great nations of 
 Indians, from whom had descended numberless 
 tribes. But, as the original distinctions between 
 these nations were marked by a difference in lan- 
 guage, as well as by repeated and bloody wars, 
 they were never known to amalgamate, until after 
 the power and inroads of the Whites had reduced 
 some of the tribes to a state of dependence, that 
 rendered not only their political, but, considering 
 the wants and habits of a savage, their animal ex- 
 istence also, extremely precarious. 
 
 These two great divisions consisted, on the 
 one side, of the Five, or, as they were afterward 
 called, the Six Nations, and their allies ; and, on 
 the other, of the Lenni Lenape, or Delawares, 
 with the numerous and powerful tribes that owned 
 
 that nation as their grandfather. The former 
 were generally called, by the Anglo-Americans, 
 Iroquois, or the Six Nations, and sometimes Min- 
 goes. Their appellation, among their rivals, 
 seems generally to have been the Mengwe, or Ma- 
 qua. They consisted of the tribes, or, as their 
 allies were fond of asserting, in order to raise 
 their consequence, of the several nations of the 
 Mohawks, the Oneidas, the Onondagas, Cayugas, 
 and Senecas ; who ranked, in the confederation, 
 in the order in which they are named. The 
 Tuscaroras were admitted to this union, near a 
 century after its formation, and thus completed 
 the number to six. 
 
 Of the Lenni Lenape, or as they were called 
 by the whites, from the circumstance of their 
 holding their great council-fire on the banks of 
 that river, the Delaware nation, the principal 
 tribes, besides that which bore the generic name, 
 were, the Mahicanni, Mohicans, or Mohegans, and 
 the Nanticokes, or Nentigoes. Of these, the lat- 
 ter held the country along the waters of the Ches- 
 apeake and the sea-shore ; while the Mohegans 
 occupied the district between the Hudson and the 
 ocean, including much of New England. Of 
 course, these two tribes were the first who were 
 dispossessed of their lands by the Europeans. 
 
 The wars of a portion of the latter are cele- 
 brated among us, as the wars of King Philip ; 
 but the peaceful policy of William Penn, or Mi- 
 quon, as he was termed by the natives, effected 
 its object with less difficulty, though not with less 
 certainty. As the natives gradually disappeared 
 from the country of the Mohegans, some scatter- 
 ing families sought a refuge around the council- 
 fire of the mother tribe, or the Delawares. 
 
 This people had been induced to suffer them- 
 selves to be called women , by their old enemies, 
 the Mingoes, or Iroquois, after the latter, having 
 in vain tried the effects of hostility, had recourse 
 to artifice, in order to prevail over their rivals. 
 According to this declaration, the Delawares were 
 to cultivate the arts of peace, and to intrust their 
 defence entirely to the men , or warlike tribes of 
 the Six Nations. 
 
 This state of things continued until the war 
 of the Revolution, when the Lenni Lenape formally 
 asserted their independence, and fearlessly de- 
 clared that they were again men. But, in a gov- 
 ernment so peculiarly republican as the Indian 
 polity, it was not at all times an easy task to re- 
 strain its members within the rules of the nation. 
 Several fierce and renowned warriors of the Mo- 
 hegans, finding the conflict with the whites to be 
 in vain, sought a refuge with their grandfather, 
 and brought with them the feelings and principle# 
 
38 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 that had so long distinguished them in their own 
 tribe. These chieftains kept alive, in some meas- 
 ure, the martial spirit of the Delawares; and 
 would, at times, lead small parties against their 
 ancient enemies, or such other foes as incurred 
 their resentment. 
 
 Among these warriors was one race particu- 
 larly famous for their prowess, and for those 
 qualities that render an Indian hero celebrated. 
 But war, time, disease, and want, had conspired 
 to thin their number ; and the sole representative 
 of this once renowned family now stood in the hall 
 of Marmaduke Temple. He had for a long time 
 been an associate of the white men, particularly 
 in their wars ; and having been, at a season when 
 his services were of importance, much noticed and 
 flattered, he had turned Christian, and was bap- 
 tized by the name of John. He had suffered 
 severely in his family during the recent war, hav- 
 ing had every soul to whom he was allied cut off 
 by an inroad of the enemy ; and when the last, 
 lingering remnant of his nation extinguished their 
 fires, among the hills of the Delaware, he alone 
 had remained, with a determination of laying his 
 bones in that country, where his fathers had so 
 long lived and governed. 
 
 It was only, however, within a few months, 
 that he had appeared among the mountains that 
 surrounded Templeton. To the hut of the old 
 hunter he seemed peculiarly welcome ; and, as 
 the habits of the Leather-stocking were so near- 
 ly assimilated to those of the savages, the con- 
 junction of their interests excited no surprise. 
 They resided in the same cabin, ate of the same 
 food, and were chiefly occupied in the same pur- 
 suits. 
 
 We have already mentioned the baptismal 
 name of this ancient chief ; but in his conversa- 
 tion with Natty, held in the language of the Dela- 
 wares, he was heard uniformly to call himself 
 Ohingachgook, which, interpreted, means the 
 w Great Snake.” This name he had acquired in 
 his youth, by his skill and prowess in war ; but 
 when his brows began to wrinkle with time, and 
 lie stood alone, the last of his family, and his par- 
 ticular tribe, the few Delawares, who yet continued 
 about the head-waters of their river, gave him 
 the mournful appellation of Mohegan. Perhaps 
 there was something of deep feeling excited in 
 the bosom of this inhabitant of the forest by the 
 sound of a name that recalled the idea of his 
 nation in ruins, for he seldom used it himself — 
 never indeed, excepting on the most solemn oc- 
 casions ; but the settlers had united, according to 
 the Christian custom, his baptismal with his 
 national name, and to them he was generally 
 
 known as John Mohegan, or, more familiarly, as 
 Indian John. 
 
 Prom his long association with the white men, 
 the habits of Mohegan were a mixture of the 
 civilized and savage states, though there was cer- 
 tainly a strong preponderance in favor of the lat- 
 ter. In common with all his people, who dwelt 
 within the influence of the Anglo-Americans, he 
 had acquired new wants, and his dress was a mix- 
 ture of his native and European fashions. Not- 
 withstanding the intense cold without, his head 
 was uncovered ; but a profusion of long, black, 
 coarse hair concealed his forehead, his crown, and 
 even hung about his cheeks, so as to convey the 
 idea, to one who knew his present and former 
 conditions, that he encouraged its abundance, ae 
 a willing veil, to hide the shame of a noble soul, 
 mourning for glory once known. His forehead, 
 when it could be seen, appeared lofty, broad, 
 and noble. His nose was high, and of the kind 
 called Roman, with nostrils that expanded, in his 
 seventieth year, with the freedom that had dis- 
 tinguished them in youth. His mouth was large, 
 but compressed, and possessing a great share of 
 expression and character ; and, when opened, it 
 discovered a perfect set of short, strong, and 
 regular teeth. His chin was full, though not 
 prominent ; and his face bore the infallible mark 
 of his people, in its square, high cheek-bones. 
 The eyes were not large, but their black orbs 
 glittered in the rays of the candles, as he gazed 
 intently down the hall, like two balls of fire. 
 
 The instant that Mohegan observed himself to 
 be noticed by the group around the young stran- 
 ger, he dropped the blanket which covered the 
 upper part of his frame, from his shoulders, suf- 
 fering it to fall over his leggins of untanned deer- 
 skin, where it was retained by a belt of bark that 
 confined it to his waist. 
 
 As he walked slowly down the long hall, the 
 dignified and deliberate tread of the Indian sur- 
 prised the spectators. His shoulders, and body 
 to his waist, were entirely bare, with the excep- 
 tion of a silver medallion of Washington, that 
 was suspended from his neck by a thong of buck- 
 skin, and rested on his high chest, amid many 
 scars. His shoulders were rather broad and full; 
 but the arms, though straight and graceful, want- 
 ed the muscular appearance that labor gives to 
 a race of men. The medallion was the only or- 
 nament he wore, although enormous slits in the 
 rim of either ear, which suffered the cartilages to 
 fall two inches below the members, had evidently 
 been used for the purposes of decoration in 
 other days. In his hand he held a small basket 
 of the ash-wood slips, colored in divers fantasti- 
 
MOHEGAN, OR INDIAN JOHN 
 
 39 
 
 cal conceits, with red and black paints mingled 
 with the white of the wood. 
 
 As this child of the forest approached them, 
 the whole party stood aside, and allowed him to 
 confront the object of his visit. He did not speak, 
 however, but stood fixing his glowing eyes on the 
 shoulder of the young hunter, and then turning 
 them intently on the countenance of the Judge. 
 The latter was a good deal astonished at this un- 
 usual departure from the ordinarily subdued and 
 quiet manner of the Indian ; but he extended his 
 hand, and said : 
 
 “Thou art welcome, John. This youth enter- 
 tains a high opinion of thy skill, it seems, for he 
 prefers thee to dress his wound even to our good 
 friend, Dr. Todd.” 
 
 Mohegan now spoke, in tolerable English, 
 but in a low, monotonous, guttural tone : 
 
 “ The children of Miquon do not love the 
 sight of blood; and yet the Young Eagle has 
 been struck by the hand that should do no 
 evil ! ” 
 
 “Mohegan ! old John ! ” exclaimed the Judge, 
 “thinkest thou that my hand has ever drawn 
 human blood willingly ? For shame ! for shame, 
 old John ! thy religion should have taught thee 
 better.” 
 
 “ The evil spirit sometimes lives in the best 
 heart,” returned John, “ but my brother speaks 
 the truth ; his hand has never taken life, when 
 awake ; no ! not even when the children of the 
 great English Father were making the waters red 
 with the blood of his people.” 
 
 “ Surely, John,” said Mr. Grant, with much 
 earnestness, “you remember the divine command 
 of our Saviour, ‘ Judge not, lest ye be judged.’ 
 What motive could Judge Temple have for injur- 
 ing a youth like this ; one to whom he is un- 
 known, and from whom he can receive neither 
 injury nor favor ? ” 
 
 John listened respectfully to the divine, and, 
 when he had concluded, he stretched out his arm, 
 and said with energy : 
 
 “ He is innocent — my brother has not done 
 this.” 
 
 Marmaduke received the offered hand of the 
 other with a smile, that showed, however he 
 might be astonished at his suspicion, he had 
 ceased to resent it ; while the wounded youth 
 stood, gazing from his red friend to his host, with 
 interest powerfully delineated in his countenance. 
 No sooner was this act of pacification exchanged, 
 than John proceeded to discharge the duty on 
 which he had come. Dr. Todd was far from 
 manifesting any displeasure at this invasion of 
 his rights, but made way for the new leech, with 
 
 an air that expressed a willingness to gratify the 
 humors of his patient, now that the all-important 
 part of the business was so successfully per- 
 formed, and nothing remained to be done but 
 what any child might effect. Indeed, he whis- 
 pered as much to Monsieur Le Quoi, when he 
 said : 
 
 “ It was fortunate that the ball was extracted 
 before this Indian came in ; but any old woman 
 can dress the wound. The young man, I hear, 
 lives with John and Natty Bumppo, and it’s al- 
 ways best to humor a patient, when it can be 
 done discreetly — I say, discreetly, monsieur.” 
 
 “'Certainement,” returned the Frenchman ; 
 <‘you seem ver happy, mister Todd, in your pra- 
 tique. I tink the elder lady might ver well finish 
 vat you so skeelfully begin.” 
 
 But Richard had, at the bottom, a great deal 
 of veneration for the knowledge of Mohegan, 
 especially in external wounds ; and, retaining all 
 his desire for a participation in glory, he advanced 
 nigh the Indian, and said : 
 
 “ Sago, sago, Mohegan ! sago, my good fel- 
 low ! I am glad you have come ; give me a 
 regular physician, like Dr, Todd, to cut into 
 flesh, and a native to heal the wound. Do you 
 remember, John, the time when I and you set the 
 bone of Natty Bumppo’s little finger, after ho 
 broke it by falling from the rock, when he was 
 trying to get .the partridge that fell on the cliffs. 
 
 I never could tell yet, whether it was I or Natty 
 who killed that bird : he fired first, and the bird 
 stooped, and then it was rising again as I pulled 
 trigger. I should have claimed it, for a certainty, 
 but Natty said the hole was too big for shot, and 
 he fired a single ball from his rifle ; but the piece 
 I carried then didn’t scatter, and I have known 
 it to bore a hole through a board, when I’ve been 
 shooting at a mark, very much like rifle bullets. 
 Shall I help you, John ? You know I have a 
 knack at these things.” 
 
 Mohegan heard this disquisition quite pa- 
 tiently, and, when Richard concluded, he held out 
 the basket which contained his specifics, indicat- 
 ing, by a gesture, that he might hold it. Mr. 
 Jones was quite satisfied with this commission; 
 and, ever after, in speaking of the event, was 
 used to say, that “ Doctor Todd and I cut out the 
 bullet, and I and Indian John dressed the 
 wound.” 
 
 The patient was much more deserving of that 
 epithet while under the hands of Mohegan, than 
 while suffering under the practice of the phy- 
 sician. Indeed, the Indian gave him but little 
 opportunity for the exercise of a forbearing tem- 
 per, as he had come prepared for the occasion* 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 40 
 
 His dressings were soon applied, and consisted 
 only of some pounded bark, moistened with a 
 fluid that he had expressed from some of the 
 simples of the woods. 
 
 Among the native tribes of the forest, there 
 were always two kinds of leeches to be met with. 
 The one placed its whole dependence on the ex- 
 ercise of a supernatural power, and was held in 
 greater veneration than their practice could at all 
 justify ; but the other was really endowed with 
 great skill in the ordinary complaints of the hu- 
 man body, and was more particularly, as Natty 
 had intimated, “ curous in cuts and bruises.” 
 
 While John and Richard were placing the 
 dressings on the wound, Elnathan was acutely 
 eying the contents of Mohegan’s basket, which 
 Mr. Jones, in his physical ardor, had transferred 
 to the doctor, in order to hold, himself, one end 
 of the bandages. Here he was soon enabled to 
 detect sundry fragments of wood and bark, of 
 which he, quite coolly, took possession, very pos- 
 sibly without any intention of speaking at all up- 
 on the subject ; but, when he beheld the full blue 
 eye of Marmaduke watching his movements, he 
 whispered to the Judge : 
 
 “It is not to be denied, Judge Temple, but 
 what the savages are knowing in small matters 
 of physic. They hand these things down in their 
 traditions. Now in cancers and hydrophoby, they 
 are quite ingenious. I will just take this bark 
 home and analyze it ; for, though it can’t be worth 
 sixpence to the young man’s shoulder, it may be 
 good for the toothache, or rheumatism, or some 
 of them complaints. A man should never be 
 above learning, even if it be from an Indian.” 
 
 It was fortunate for Dr. Todd that his princi- 
 ples were so liberal, as, coupled with his practice, 
 they were the means by which he acquired all his 
 knowledge, and by which he was gradually quali- 
 fying himself for the duties of his profession. 
 The process to which he subjected the specific, 
 differed, however, greatly from the ordinary rules 
 of chemistry ; for, instead of separating, he after- 
 ward united the component parts of Mohegan’s 
 remedy, and was thus able to discover the tree 
 whence the Indian had taken it. 
 
 Some ten years after this event, when civiliza- 
 tion and its refinements had crept, or rather 
 rushed, into the settlements among these wild 
 hills, an affair of honor occurred, and Elnathan 
 was seen to apply a salve to the wound received 
 by one of the parties, which had the flavor that 
 was peculiar to the tree, or root, that Mohegan 
 had used. Ten years later still, when England 
 and the United States were again engaged in war, 
 and the hordes of the western parts of the State 
 
 of New York were rushing to the field, Elnathan, 
 presuming on the reputation obtained by these 
 two operations, followed in the rear of a brigade 
 of militia as its surgeon ! 
 
 When Mohegan had applied the bark, he free- 
 ly relinquished to Richard the needle and thread 
 that were used in sewing the bandages, for these 
 were implements of which the native but little 
 understood the use ; and, stepping back with de- 
 cent gravity, awaited the completion of the busi- 
 ness by the other. 
 
 “ Reach me the scissors,” said Mr. Jones, 
 when he had finished, and finished for the second 
 time, after tying the linen in every shape and 
 form that it could be placed ; “ reach me the 
 scissors, for here is a thread that must be cut off, 
 or it might get under the dressings, and inflame 
 the wound. See, John, I have put the lint I 
 scraped between two layers of the linen; for 
 though the bark is certainly best for the flesh, 
 yet the lint will serve to keep the cold air from 
 the wound. If any lint will do it good, it is this 
 lint ; I scraped it myself, and I will not turn my 
 back at scraping lint to any man on the Pat- 
 ent. I ought to know how, if any body ought, 
 for my grandfather was a doctor, and my father 
 had a natural turn that way.” 
 
 “ Here, squire, is the scissors,” said Remarka- 
 ble, producing from beneath her petticoat of 
 green moreen a pair of dull-looking shears ; “ well, 
 upon my say-so, you have sewed on the rags as 
 well as a woman.” 
 
 “ As well as a woman t ” echoed Richard, with 
 indignation ; “ what do women know of such mat- 
 ters ? and you are proof of the truth of what I 
 say. Who ever saw such a pair of shears used 
 about a wound ? Dr. Todd, I will thank you for 
 the scissors from the case. Now, young man, I 
 think you’ll do. The shot has been very neatly 
 taken out, although perhaps, seeing I had a hand 
 in it, I ought not to say so ; and the wound is ad- 
 mirably dressed. You will soon be well again; 
 though the jerk you gave my leaders must have 
 a tendency to inflame the shoulder, yet you will 
 do, you will do. You were rather flurried, I sup- 
 pose, and not used to horses ; but I forgive the 
 accident for the motive : no doubt you had the 
 best of motives ; yes, now you will do.” 
 
 “ Then, gentlemen,” said the wounded stran- 
 ger, rising, and resuming his clothes, “ it will be 
 unnecessary for me to trespass longer on your 
 time and patience. There remains but one thing 
 more to be settled, and that is, our respective 
 rights to the deer, Judge Temple.” 
 
 “ I acknowledge it to be thine,” said Marma- 
 duke ; “ and much more deeply am I indebted to 
 
THE CLAIMS OP OLIVER EDWARDS. 
 
 41 
 
 »hee than for this piece of venison. But in the 
 morning thou wilt call here, and we can adjust 
 this, as well as more important matters. — Eliza- 
 beth ” — for the young lady, being apprised that 
 the wound was dressed, had reentered the hall — 
 “ thou wilt order a repast for thi3 youth before 
 we proceed to the church ; and A ggy will have a 
 sleigh prepared, to convey him to his friend.” 
 
 “But, sir, I cannot go without a part of the 
 deer,” returned the youth, seemingly struggling 
 with his own feelings ; “ I have already told you 
 that I needed the venison for myself.” 
 
 “ Oh ! we will not be particular,” exclaimed 
 Richard; “ the Judge will pay you in the morning 
 for the whole deer ; and, Remarkable, give the lad all 
 the animal excepting the saddle ; so, on the whole, 
 
 I think you may consider yourself as a very lucky 
 young man — you have been shot without being 
 disabled ; have had the wound dressed in the best 
 possible manner here in the woods, as well as it 
 would have been done in the Philadelphia hospi- 
 tal, if not better ; have sold your deer at a high 
 price, and yet can keep most of the carcass, with 
 the skin in the bargain. ’Marky, tell Tom to 
 give him the skin, too ; and in the morning bring 
 the skin to me, and I will give you half a dollar 
 for it, or at least three-and-sixpence. I want just 
 such a skin to cover the pillion that I am making 
 for cousin Bess.” 
 
 “ I thank you, sir, for your liberality, and, I 
 trust, am also thankful for my escape,” returned 
 the stranger ; “ but you reserve the very part of 
 the animal that I wished for my own use. I 
 must have the saddle myself.” 
 
 “ Must ! ” echoed Richard ; “ must is harder 
 to be swallowed than the horns of the buck.” 
 
 “ Yes, must,” repeated the youth : when, 
 turning his head proudly around him, as if to 
 see who would dare to controvert his rights, he 
 met the astonished gaze of Elizabeth, and pro- 
 ceeded more mildly — “ that is, if a man is allowed 
 the possession of that which his hand hath 
 killed, and the law will protect him in the enjoy- 
 ment of his own.” 
 
 “ The law will do so,” said Judge Temple, 
 with an air of mortification mingled with surprise. 
 
 — “ Benjamin, see that the whole deer is placed in 
 the sleigh ; and have this youth conveyed to the 
 hut of Leather-stocking. — But, young man, thou 
 hast a name, and I shall see you again, in order 
 to compensate thee for the wrong I have done 
 thee ? ” 
 
 “ I am called Edwards,” returned the hunter ; i 
 “ Oliver Edwards. I am easily to be seen, sir, for ] 
 1 live nigh by, and am not afraid to show my face, 1 
 having never injured any man.” | < 
 
 ! “ It is we who have injured you, sir,” said 
 
 ; Elizabeth ; “ and the knowledge that you decline 
 ■ our assistance would give my father great pain. 
 ; He would gladly see you in the morning.” 
 
 The young hunter gazed at the fair speaker 
 until his earnest look brought the blood to her 
 temples ; when, recollecting himself, he bent his 
 head, dropping his eyes to the carpet, and re- 
 plied : 
 
 “ In the morning, then, will I return, and see 
 Judge Temple ; and I will accept his offer of the 
 sleigh, in token of amity.” 
 
 “ Amity ! ” repeated Marmaduke ; “ there was 
 no malice in the act that injured thee, young man ; 
 there should be none in the feelings which it may 
 engender.” 
 
 “ Forgive our trespasses as we forgive those 
 who trespass against us,” observed Mr. Grant, 
 “ is the language used by our Divine Master him- 
 self, and it should be the golden rule of us, his 
 humble followers.” 
 
 The stranger stood a moment, lost in thought, 
 and then, glancing his dark eyes rather wildly 
 around the hall, he bowed low to the divine, and 
 moved from the apartment with an air that would 
 not admit of detention. 
 
 “ ’Tis strange that one so young should har 
 bor such feelings of resentment,” said Marmaduke, 
 when the door closed behind the stranger ; “ but 
 while the pain is recent, and the sense of the in- 
 jury so fresh, he must feel more strongly than in 
 cooler moments. I doubt not we shall see him 
 in the morning more tractable.” 
 
 Elizabeth, to whom this speech was addressed, 
 did not reply, but moved slowly up the hall, by 
 herself, fixing her eyes on the little figure of the 
 English ingrained carpet that covered the floor ; 
 while, on the other hand, Richard gave a loud 
 crack with his whip, as the stranger disappeared, 
 and cried : 
 
 “ Well, ’duke, you are your own master, but 
 I would have tried law for the saddle, before I 
 would have given it to the fellow. Do you not 
 own the mountains as well as the valleys ? are not 
 the woods your own ? what right has this chap, 
 or the Leather-stocking, to shoot in your wmods, 
 without your permission ? Now, I have known a 
 farmer in Pennsylvania order a sportsman off his 
 farm with as little ceremony as I would order 
 Benjamin to put a log in the stove. — By-the-by, 
 Benjamin, see how the thermometer stands.— 
 Now, if a man has a right to do this on a farm of 
 a hundred acres, what power must a landlord 
 have who owns sixty thousand — ay, for the mat- 
 ter of that, including the late purchases, a hun- 
 dred thousand ? There is Mohegan, to be sure, 
 
42 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 he may have some right, being a native ; but it’s 
 little the poor fellow can do now with his rifle. 
 How is this managed in France, Monsieur Le Quoi ? 
 
 Do you let everybody run over your land in that 
 country, helter-skelter, as they do here, shooting 
 the game, so that a gentleman has but little or no 
 
 chance with his gun ? ” 
 
 “Bah! diable, no, Meester Deeck,” replied 
 the Frenchman ; “ we give, in France, no liberty 
 except to the ladi.” 
 
 “Yes, yes, to the women, I know,” said Rich- 
 ard, “that is your Salic law. I read, sir, all 
 kinds of books ; of France, as well as England ; 
 of Greece, as well as Rome. But if I were in 
 ’duke’s place, I would stick up advertisements to- 
 morrow morning, forbidding all persons to shoot, 
 or trespass in any manner, on my woods. I could 
 write such an advertisement myself, in an hour, 
 as would put a stop to the thing at once. 
 
 “ Richart,” said Major Hartmann, very coolly 
 knocking the ashes from his pipe into the spit- 
 ting-box by his side, “ now listen ; I have livet 
 seventy-five years on ter Mohawk, and in ter 
 woots. You had better mettle as mit ter deyvel, 
 as mit ter hunters. Tey live mit ter gun, and a 
 
 rifle is better as ter law.” 
 
 “ A’nt Marmaduke a judge ? ” said Richard, 
 indignantly. “ Where is the use of being a judge, 
 or having a judge, if there is no law ? Damn the 
 fellow ! I have a great mind to sue him in the 
 morning myself, before Squire Doolittle, for med- 
 dling with my leaders. I am not afraid of his 
 rifle. I can shoot too. I have hit a dollar many 
 a time at fifty rods.” 
 
 “Thou hast missed more dollars than ever 
 thou hast hit, Dickon,” exclaimed the cheerful 
 voice of the Judge. « But we will now take our 
 evening’s repast, which, I perceive by Remark- 
 able’s physiognomy, is ready. — Monsieur Le Quoi, 
 Miss Temple has a hand at your service.— Will 
 you lead the way, my child ? ” 
 
 “Ah! ma chere mam’selle, comme je suis en- 
 chante ! ” said the Frenchman. “ II ne manque 
 que les dames de faire un paradis de Templeton.” 
 
 Mr. Grant and Mohegan continued in the 
 hall, while the remainder of the party withdrew 
 to an eating-parlor, if we except Benjamin, who 
 civilly remained, to close the rear after the clergy- 
 man, and to open the front door for the exit of the 
 Indian. 
 
 “ John,” said the divine, when the figure ot 
 Judge Temple disappeared, the last of the group, 
 “to-morrow is the festival of the nativity of our 
 blessed Redeemer, when the church has appointed 
 prayers and thanksgivings to be offered up by her 
 eh'ldren, and when all are invited to partake of 
 
 the mystical elements. As you have taken up the 
 cross, and become a follower of good and an es* 
 chewer of evil, I trust I shall see you before the 
 altar, with a contrite heart and a meek spirit.” 
 
 “ John will come,” said the Indian, betraying 
 no surprise; though he did not understand all 
 the terms used by the other. 
 
 « Yes,” continued Mr. Grant, laying his hand 
 gently on the tawny shoulder of the aged chief, 
 
 “ but it is not enough to be there in the body ; 
 you must come in the spirit and in truth. The 
 Redeemer died for all, for the poor Indian as well 
 as for the white man. Heaven knows no differ- 
 ence in color ; nor must earth witness a separa- 
 tion of the church. It is good and profitable, 
 John, to freshen the understanding, and support 
 the wavering, by the observance of our holy festi- 
 vals ; but all form is but stench in the nostrils of 
 the Holy One, unless it be accompanied by a de- 
 vout and humble spirit.” 
 
 The Indian stepped back a little, and, raising 
 his body to its utmost powers of erection, he 
 stretched his right arm on high, and dropped his 
 forefinger downward, as if pointing from the 
 heavens, then, striking his other hand on his naked 
 breast, he said, with energy : 
 
 “ The eye of the Great Spirit can see from the 
 clouds— the bosom of Mohegan is bare ! ” 
 
 “ It is well, John, and I hope you will receive 
 profit and consolation from the performance of 
 this duty. The Great Spirit overlooks none of his 
 children; and the man of the woods is as much 
 an object of his care as he who dwells in a palace. 
 I wish you a good-night, and pray God to bless 
 you.” 
 
 The Indian bent his head, and they separated 
 —the one to seek his hut, and the other to join 
 the narty at the supper-table. While Benjamin 
 was ‘opening the door for the passage of the chief, 
 he cried, in a tone that was meant to be encourag- 
 
 ing : , 
 
 “ The parson says the word that is true, John. 
 If so be that they took count of the color of the 
 skin in heaven, why they might refuse to muster 
 on their books a Christian-born, like myself, just 
 for the matter of a little tan, from cruising m 
 warm latitudes ; though, for the matter of that 
 this damned norwester is enough to whiten the 
 skin of a blackamore. Let the reef out of you: 
 blanket, man, or your red hide will hardly weatb 
 er the night, without » touch from the frost. 
 
MONSIEUR LE QUOI AND HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 43 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 “ For hero the exile met from every clime, 
 
 And spoke, in friendship, every distant tongue.” 
 
 Campbell. 
 
 We have made our readers acquainted with 
 lome variety in character and nations, in intro- 
 ducing the most important personages of this 
 legend to their notice ; but, in order to establish 
 the fidelity of our narrative, we shall briefly at- 
 tempt to explain the reason why we have been 
 obliged to present so motley a dramatis personce. 
 
 Europe, at the period of our tale, was in the 
 commencement of that commotion which after- 
 ward shook her political institutions to the centre. 
 Louis the Sixteenth had been beheaded, and a 
 nation once esteemed the most refined among the 
 civilized people of the world, was changing its 
 character, and substituting cruelty for mercy, and 
 subtlety and ferocity for magnanimity and cour- 
 age. Thousands of Frenchmen were compelled 
 to seek protection in distant lands. Among the 
 crowds who fled from France and her islands, to 
 the United States of America, was the gentleman 
 whom we have already mentioned as Monsieur 
 Le Quoi. He had been recommended to the favor 
 of Judge Temple, by the head of an eminent mer- 
 cantile house in New York, with whom Marma- 
 duke was in habits of intimacy, and accustomed 
 to exchange good offices. At his first interview 
 with the Frenchman, our Judge had discovered 
 him to be a man of breeding, and one who had 
 seen much more prosperous days in his own coun- 
 try. From certain hints that had escaped him, 
 Monsieur Le Quoi was suspected of having been 
 a West- India planter, great numbers of whom 
 had fled from St. Domingo and the other islands, 
 and were now living in the Union, in a state of 
 comparative poverty, and some in absolute want. 
 The latter was not, however, the lot of Monsieur 
 Le Quoi. He had but little, he acknowledged ; 
 but that little was enough to furnish, in the lan- 
 guage of the country, an assortment for a store. 
 
 The knowledge of Marmaduke was eminently 
 aractical, and there was no part of a settler's life 
 vith which he was not familiar. Under his di- 
 rection, Monsieur Le Quoi made some purchases, 
 ronsisting of a few cloths ; some groceries, with 
 v good deal of gunpowder and tobacco ; a quan- 
 ity of iron ware, among which was a large pro- 
 >ortion of Barlow’s jack-knives, potash-kettles, 
 
 •ud spiders ; a very formidable collection of 
 rockery, of the coarsest quality and most uncouth 
 orms ; together with every other common article 
 bat the art of man has devised for his want3, not 
 
 forgetting the luxuries of looking-glasses' and 
 Jew’s-harps. With this collection of valuables, 
 Monsieur Le Quoi had stepped behind a counter, 
 and, with a wonderful pliability of temperament, 
 had dropped into his assumed character as grace- 
 fully as he had ever moved in any other. The 
 gentleness and suavity of his manners rendered 
 him extremely popular ; besides this, the women 
 soon discovered that he had taste. His calicoes 
 were the finest, or, in other words, the most 
 showy, of any that were brought into the country ; 
 and it was impossible to look at the prices asked 
 for his goods by “ so pretty a spoken man.” 
 Through these conjoint means, the affairs of 
 Monsieur Le Quoi were again in a prosperous 
 condition, and he was looked up to by the settlers 
 as the second-best man on the “ Patent.” 
 
 The term “ Patent,” which we have already 
 used, and for which we may have further occa- 
 sion, meant the district of country that had been 
 originally granted to old Major Effingham by the 
 “ king’s letters patent,” and which had now be- 
 come, by purchase under the act of confiscation, 
 the property of Marmaduke Temple. It was a 
 term in common use throughout the new parts of 
 the State ; and was usually annexed to the land- 
 lord’s name, as “ Temple’s or Effingham’s Patent.” 
 
 Major Hartmann was a descendant of a man 
 who, in company with a number of his country- 
 men, had emigrated, with their families, from the 
 banks of the Rhine to those of the Mohawk. 
 This migration had occurred as far back as the 
 reign of Queen Anne ; and their descendants were 
 now living, in great peace and plenty, on the fer- 
 tile borders of that beautiful stream. 
 
 The Germans, or “ High Dutchers,” as they 
 were called, to distinguish them from the original 
 or Low Dutch colonists, were a very peculiar peo- 
 ple. They possessed all the gravity of the latter, 
 without any of their phlegm ; and, like them, the 
 “ High Dutchers ” were industrious, honest, and 
 economical. 
 
 Fritz, or Frederick Hartmann, was an epitome 
 of all the vices and virtues, foibles and excel- 
 lences, of his race. He was passionate, though 
 silent, obstinate, and a good deal suspicious of 
 strangers ; of immovable courage, inflexible hon- 
 esty, and undeviating in his friendships. Indeed 
 there was no change about him, unless it were 
 from grave to gay. He was serious by months, 
 and jolly by weeks. He had, early in their ac- 
 quaintance, formed an attachment for Marmaduke 
 Temple, who was the only man that could not 
 speak High Dutch that ever gained his entire confi- 
 dence. Four times in each year, at periods equidis- 
 I tant, he left his low stone dwelling on the banks of 
 
u 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 the Mohawk, and travelled thirty miles, through < 
 the hills, to the door of the mansion-house in 
 Templeton. Here he generally stayed a week ; < 
 
 and was reputed to spend much of that time 
 in riotous living, greatly countenanced by Mr. ; 
 Richard Jones. But every one loved him, even 
 to Remarkable Pettibone, to whom he occasioned 
 Borne additional trouble, he was so frank, so sin- 
 cere, and, at times, so mirthful. He was now on 
 his regular Christmas visit, and had not been in 
 the village an hour when Richard summoned him 
 to fill a seat in the sleigh, to meet the landlord 
 and his daughter. 
 
 Before explaining the character and situation 
 of Mr. Grant, it will be necessary to recur to 
 tjmes far back in the brief history of the settle- 
 ment. 
 
 There seems to be a tendency in human na- 
 ture to endeavor to provide for the wants of this 
 world, before our attention is turned to the busi- 
 ness of the other. Religion was a quality but 
 little cultivated amid the stumps of Temple’s Pa- 
 tent for the first few years of its settlement ; but, 
 as most of its inhabitants were from the moral 
 states of Connecticut and Massachusetts, when 
 the wants of nature were satisfied, they began 
 seriously to turn their attention to the introduc- 
 tion of those customs and observances which 
 had been the principal care of their forefathers. 
 There was certainly a great variety of opinions on 
 the subject of grace and free-will among the ten- 
 antry of Marmaduke ; and, when we take into 
 consideration the variety of the religious instruc- 
 tion which they received, it can easily be seen 
 that it could not well be otherwise. 
 
 Soon after the village had been formally laid 
 out into the streets and blocks that resembled a 
 city, a meeting of its inhabitants had been con- 
 vened, to take into consideration the propriety 
 of establishing an academy. This measure origi- 
 nated with Richard, who, in truth, was much dis- 
 posed to have the institution designated a univer- 
 sity, or at least a college. Meeting after meeting 
 was held, for this purpose, year after year. The 
 resolutions of these assemblages appeared in the 
 most conspicuous columns of a little blue-look- 
 ing newspaper, that was already issued weekly 
 from the garret of a dwelling-house in the village, 
 and which the traveller might as often see stuck 
 into the fissure of a stake, erected at the point 
 where the footpath from the log-cabin of some 
 settler entered the highway, as a post-office for 
 an individual. Sometimes the stake supported a 
 email box, and a whole neighborhood received a 
 weekly supply for their literary wants, at this 
 point, where the man who “rides post” regularly 
 
 deposited a bundle of the precious commodity 
 To these flourishing resolutions, which briefly re. 
 counted the general utility of education, the polit 
 ical and geographical rights of the village of Tern* 
 pleton to a participation in the favors of the 
 regents of the university, the salubrity of the air, 
 and wholesomeness of the water, together with 
 the cheapness of food and the superior state of 
 morals in the neighborhood, were uniformly an- 
 nexed, in large Roman capitals, the names of 
 Marmaduke Temple as chairman, and Richard 
 Jones as secretary. 
 
 Happily for the success of this undertaking, 
 the regents were not accustomed to resist these 
 appeals to their generosity, whenever there was 
 the smallest prospect of a donation to second the 
 request. Eventually Judge Temple concluded to 
 bestow the necessary land, and to erect the re- 
 quired edifice at his own expense. The skill of 
 Mr., or, as he was now called, from the circum. 
 stance of having received the commission of a 
 justice of the peace, Squire Doolittle, was again 
 put in requisition ; and the science of Mr. Jones 
 was once more resorted to. 
 
 We shall not recount the different devices of 
 the architects on the occasion ; nor would it be 
 decorous so to do, seeing that there was a con- 
 vocation of the society of the ancient and honor- 
 able fraternity “ of the Free and Accepted Ma- 
 sons,” at the head of whom was Richard, in the 
 capacity of master, doubtless to approve or re- 
 ject such of the plans as, in their wisdom, they 
 deemed to be for the best. The knotty point 
 was, however, soon decided ; and, on the appoint- 
 ed day, the brotherhood marched in great state, 
 displaying sundry banners and mysterious sym- 
 bols, each man with a little mimic apron before 
 him, from a most cunningly contrived apartment 
 in the garret of the “ Bold Dragoon,” an inn kept 
 by one Captain Hollister, to the site of the in- 
 tended edifice. Here Richard laid the corner- 
 stone, with suitable gravity, amidst an assem- 
 blage of more than half the men, and all the 
 women, within ten miles of Templeton. 
 
 In the course of the succeeding week there 
 was another meeting of the people, not omitting 
 swarms of the gentler sex, when the abilities of 
 Hiram at the “ square rule ” were put to the 
 test of experiment. The frame fitted well ; and 
 the skeleton of the fabric was reared without o 
 single accident, if we except a few falls fron 
 • horses while the laborers were returning home ir 
 the evening. From this time the work advancei 
 , with great rapidity, and in the course of the sea 
 i son the labor was completed ; the edifice standing 
 r in all its beauty and proportions, the boast of th 
 
THE ACADEMY AT TEMPLETON. 
 
 45 
 
 village, the study of young aspirants for architect- 
 ural fame, and the admiration of every settler on 
 the Patent. 
 
 It was a long, narrow house of wood, painted 
 white, and more than half windows ; and, when 
 the observer stood at the western side of the 
 building, the edifice offered but a small obstacle 
 to a full view of the rising sun. It was, in truth, 
 but a very comfortless open place, through which 
 the daylight shone with natural facility. On its 
 front were divers ornaments in wood, designed 
 by Richard, and executed by Hiram ; but a win- 
 dow in the centre of the second story, imme- 
 diately over the door or grand entrance, and the 
 “steeple,” were the pride of the building. The 
 former was, we believe, of the composite order ; 
 for it included in its composition a multitude of 
 ornaments, and a great variety of proportions. 
 It consisted of an arched compartment in the 
 eentre, with a square and small division on either 
 side, the whole encased in heavy frames, deeply 
 and laboriously moulded in pine*wood, and lighted 
 with a vast number of blurred and green-looking 
 glass, of those dimensions which are commonly 
 called “ eight by ten.” Blinds, that were intend- 
 ed to be painted green, kept the window in a 
 state of preservation ; and probably might have 
 contributed to the effect of the whole, had not the 
 failure in the public funds, which seems always 
 to be incidental to any undertaking of this kind, 
 left them in the sombre coat of lead-color with 
 which they had been originally clothed. The 
 # steeple ” was a little cupola, reared on the very 
 centre of the roof, on four tall pillars of pine, 
 that were fluted with a gouge, and loaded with 
 mouldings. On the tops of the columns was 
 reared a dome or cupola, resembling in shape an 
 inverted tea-cup, without its bottom, from the 
 centre of which projected a spire, or shaft of 
 wood, transfixed with two iron rods, that bore on 
 their ends the letters N. S. E. and W. in the same 
 metal. The whole was surmounted by an imita- 
 tion of one of the finny tribe, carved in wood by 
 the hands of Richard, and painted what he called 
 a “ scale-color.” This animal Mr. Jone3 affirmed 
 to be an admirable resemblance of a great favor- 
 ite of the epicures in that country, which bore 
 the title of “lake-fish ; ” and doubtless the asser- 
 tion was true ; for, although intended to answer 
 the purposes of a weathercock, the fish was ob- 
 served invariably to look, , with a longing eye, in 
 the direction of the beautiful sheet of water that 
 ’say imbedded in the mountains of Templeton. 
 
 For a short time after the charter of the re- 
 gents was received, the trustees of this institution 
 employed a graduate of one of the Eastern col- 
 
 leges, to instruct such youth as aspired to know- 
 ledge within the walls of the edifice which we 
 have described. The upper part of the building 
 was in one apartment, and was intended for gala- 
 days and exhibitions ; and the lower contained 
 two rooms, that were intended for the great di- 
 visions of education, viz. the Latin and the English 
 scholars. The former were never very numerous ; 
 though the sounds of “nominative, pennaa — 
 genitive, penny" were soon heard to issue from 
 the windows of the room, to the great delight and 
 manifest edification of the passenger. 
 
 Only one laborer in this temple of Minerva, 
 however, was known to get so far as to attempt a 
 translation of Yirgil. . He, indeed, appeared at 
 the annual exhibition, to the prodigious exulta- 
 tion of all his relatives, a farmer’s family in the 
 vicinity, and repeated the whole of the fiist 
 eclogue from memory, observing the intonations 
 of the dialogue with much judgment and effect. 
 The sounds, as they proceeded from his mouth, of 
 “ Titty-ree too patty-lee ree-coo-bans sub teg-mi-nee faa-gy 
 Syl-ves-trem ten-oo-i moo-sam, med-i-taa-ris, aa-ve-ny” — 
 
 were the last that had been heard in that building, 
 as probably they were the first that had ever 
 been heard, in the same language, there or any 
 where else. By this time the trustees discovered 
 that they had anticipated the age, and the instruc- 
 tor, or principal, was superseded by a master, who 
 went on to teach the more humble lesson of “ the 
 more haste the worse speed,” in good, plain 
 English. 
 
 From this time, until the date of our inci- 
 dents, the academy was a common country 
 school, and the great room of the building was 
 sometimes used as a court-room, on extraordinary 
 trials ; sometimes for conferences of the religious 
 and the morally disposed, in the evening; at 
 others for a ball, in the afternoon, given under 
 the auspices of Richard ; and on Sundays, invari- 
 ably, as a place of public worship. 
 
 When an itinerant priest of the persuasion 
 of the Methodists, Baptists, Universalists, or of 
 the more numerous sect of the Presbyterians, 
 was accidentally in the neighborhood, he was 
 ordinarily invited to officiate, and was commonly 
 rewarded for his services by a collection in a hat, 
 before the congregation separated. When no 
 such regular minister offered, a kind of colloquial 
 prayer or two was made by some of the more 
 gifted members, and a sermon was usually read, 
 from Sterne, by Mr. Richard Jones. 
 
 The consequences of this desultory kind of 
 priesthood was, as we have already intimated, a 
 great diversity of opinion on the more abstruse 
 points of faith. Each sect had its adherents, 
 
46 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 though neither was regularly organized and dis- 
 ciplined. Of the religious education of Marma- 
 duke we have already written, nor was the doubt- 
 ful character of his faith completely removed by 
 his marriage. The mother of Elizabeth was an 
 Episcopalian, as, indeed, was the mother of the 
 Judge himself; and the good taste of Marma- 
 duke revolted at the familiar colloquies which the 
 leaders of the conferences held with the Deity, in 
 their nightly meetings. In form, he was cer- 
 tainly an Episcopalian, though not a sectary of 
 that denomination. On the other hand, Richard 
 was as rigid in the observance of the canons of 
 his church as he was inflexible in his opinions. 
 Indeed, he had once or twice essayed to intro- 
 duce the Episcopal form of service, on the 
 Sundays that the pulpit was vacant ; but Richard 
 was a good deal addicted to carrying things to an 
 excess, and then there was something so papal in 
 his air, that the greater part of his hearers de- 
 serted him on the second Sabbath — on the third 
 his only auditor was Ben Pump, who had all the 
 obstinate and enlightened orthodoxy of a high 
 churchman. 
 
 Before the war of the Revolution, the English 
 church was supported, in the colonies, with much 
 interest, by some of its adherents in the mother 
 country, and a few of the congregations were very 
 amply endowed. But, for a season, after the inde- 
 pendence of the States was established, this sect 
 of Christians languished, for the want of the high- 
 est order of its priesthood. Pious and suitable di- 
 vines were at length selected, and sent to the 
 mother country, to receive that authority, which, 
 it is understood, can only be transmitted directly 
 from one to the other, and thus obtain, in order to 
 reserve, that unity in their churches which prop- 
 erly belonged to a people of the same nation. 
 But unexpected difficulties presented themselves, 
 in the oaths with which the policy of England had 
 fettered their establishment ; and much time was 
 spent before a conscientious sense of duty would 
 permit the prelates of Britain to delegate the au- 
 thority so earnestly sought. Time, patience, and 
 zeal, however, removed every impediment ; and the 
 venerable men, who had been set apart by the 
 American churches, at length returned to their 
 expecting dioceses, endowed with the most ele- 
 vated functions of their earthly church. Priests 
 and deacons were ordained ; and missionaries pro- 
 vided, to keep alive the expiring flame of devotion 
 in such members as were deprived of the ordinary 
 administrations, by dwelling in new and unorgan- 
 ized districts. 
 
 Of this number was Mr. Grant. He had been 
 sent into the county of which Templeton was the 
 
 capital, and had been kindly invited by Marmaduke, 
 and officiously pressed by Richard, to take up hia 
 abode in the village. A small and humble dwell- 
 ing was prepared for his family, and the divine 
 had made his appearance in the place but a few 
 days previously to the time of his introduction 
 to the reader. As his forms were entirely new to. 
 most of the inhabitants, and a clergyman of another 
 denomination had previously occupied the field, 
 by engaging the academy, the first Sunday after 
 his arrival was suffered to pass in silence ; but 
 now that his rival had passed on, like a meteor, 
 filling the air with the light of his wisdom, Richard 
 was empowered to give notice that “ Public wor- 
 ship, after the forms of the Protestant Episcopal 
 Church, would be held on the night before Christ- 
 mas, in the long room of the academy in Temple- 
 ton, by the Rev. Mr. Grant.” 
 
 This annunciation excited great commotion 
 among the different sectaries. Some wondered as 
 to the nature of the exhibition ; others sneered; 
 but a far greater part, recollecting the essays of 
 Richard in that way, and mindful of the liberality, 
 or rather laxity of Marmaduke’s notions on the 
 subject of sectarianism, thought it most prudent 
 to be silent. 
 
 The expected evening was, however, the won- 
 der of the hour ; nor was the curiosity at all dimin- 
 ished, when Richard and Benjamin, on the morn- 
 ing of the eventful day, were seen to issue from 
 the woods in the neighborhood of the village, each 
 bearing on his shoulders a large bunch of ever- 
 greens. This worthy pair was observed to enter 
 the academy, and carefully to fasten the door, 
 after which their proceedings remained a profound 
 secret to the rest of the village ; Mr. Jones, before 
 he commenced this mysterious business, having 
 informed the schoolmaster, to the great delight of 
 the white-headed flock he governed, that there 
 could be no school that day. Marmaduke was 
 apprised of all these preparations, by letter, and 
 it was especially arranged, that he and Elizabeth 
 should arrive in season, to participate in the so- 
 lemnities of the evening. 
 
 After this digression, we shall return to oui 
 narrative. 
 
DINNER AT THE JUDGE’S. 
 
 4 ? 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 u Now all admire, in each high-flavored dish, 
 
 The capabilities of flesh— fowl — fish ; 
 
 In order due each guest assumes his station, 
 
 Throbs high his breast with fond anticipation 
 And prelibates the joys of mastication.” 
 
 Heliogabaliad. 
 
 The apartment to which Monsieur Le Quoi 
 handed Elizabeth communicated with the hall, 
 through the door that led under the urn which 
 was supposed to contain the ashes of Dido. The 
 room was spacious, and of very just proportions ; 
 but, in its ornaments and furniture, the same di- 
 versity of taste and imperfection of execution 
 were to be observed as existed in the hall. Of 
 furniture, there were a dozen green, wooden arm- 
 chairs, with cushions of moreen, taken from the 
 same piece as the petticoat of Remarkable. The 
 tables were spread, and their materials and work- 
 manship could not be seen ; but they were heavy, 
 and of great size. An enormous mirror, in a gilt 
 frame, hung against the wall, and a cheerful fire, of 
 the hard or sugar maple, was burning on the 
 hearth. The latter was the first object that 
 struck the attention of the Judge, who, on behold- 
 ing it, exclaimed, rather angrily, to Richard : 
 
 “ How often have I forbidden the use of the 
 sugar-maple in my dwelling ! The sight of that 
 sap, as it exudes with the heat, is painful to me, 
 Richard. Really, it behooves the owner of woods 
 so extensive as mine, to be cautious what exam- 
 ple he sets his people, who are already felling the 
 forests, as if no end could be found to their treas- 
 ures, nor any limits to their extent. If we go on 
 in this way, twenty years hence we shall want 
 fuel.” 
 
 “ Fuel in these hills, cousin ’duke ! ” exclaimed 
 Richard, in derision — “ fuel ! why, you might as 
 well predict that the fish will die, for the want 
 of water in the lake, because I intend, when the 
 frost gets out of the ground, to lead one or two of 
 the springs, through logs, into the village. But 
 you are always a little wild on such subjects, Mar- 
 maduke.” 
 
 “ Is it wildness,” returned the Judge, earnest- 
 ly, “to condemn a practice which devotes these 
 jewels of the forest, these precious gifts of nature, 
 these mines of comfort and wealth, to the com- 
 mon uses of a fireplace ? But I must, and will, 
 the instant the snow is off the earth, send out a 
 party into the mountains to explore for coal.” 
 
 “ Coal ! ” echoed Richard ; “ who the devil do 
 rou think will dig for coal, when in hunting for 
 i bushel he would have to rip up more roots of 
 
 trees than would keep him n fuel for a twelve- 
 month ? Poh! poh! Marmaduke, you should 
 leave the management of these things to me, who 
 have a natural turn that way. It was I that or- 
 dered this fire, and a noble one it is, to warm the 
 blood of my pretty cousin Bess.” 
 
 The motive, then, must be your apology, 
 Dickon,” said the Judge.— “But, gentlemen, wo 
 are waiting.— Elizabeth, my child, take the head 
 of the table ; Richard, I see, means to spare me 
 the trouble of carving, by sitting opposite to 
 you.” 
 
 “ To b e sure I do,” cried Richard ; “ here is a 
 turkey to carve ; and I flatter myself that I un- 
 derstand carving a turkey, or, for that matter, a 
 goose, as well as any man alive.— Mr. Grant ! 
 where s Mr. Grant ? will you please to say grace, 
 sir ? Everything is getting cold. Take a thing 
 from the fire, this cold weather, and it will freeze 
 in five minutes. Mr. Grant ! we want you to say 
 grace. ‘ For what we are about to receive, the 
 Lord make us thankful.’ Come, sit down, sit 
 down. Do you eat wing or breast, cousin Bess ? ” 
 But Elizabeth had not taken her seat, nor 
 was she in readiness to receive either the wing or 
 breast. Her laughing eyes were glancing at the 
 arrangements of the table, and the quality and 
 selection of the food. The eyes of the father soon 
 met the wondering looks of his daughter, and he 
 said, with a smile : 
 
 “You perceive, my chUd, how much we are 
 indebted to Remarkable for her skill in house- 
 wifery ; she has indeed provided a noble repast ; 
 such as well might stop the cravings of hunger.” 
 
 “ Law ! ” said Remarkable, “ I’m glad if the 
 Judge is pleased; but I’m notional that you’ll 
 find the sa’ce overdone. I thought, as Elizabeth 
 was coming home, that a body could do no less 
 than make things agreeable.” 
 
 “My daughter has now grown to woman’s 
 estate, and is from this moment mistress of my 
 house,” said the Judge; “it is proper that all 
 who live with me address her as Miss Temple.” 
 
 11 Do tell!” exclaimed Remarkable, a little 
 aghast ; “ well, who ever heerd of a young wom- 
 an’s being called Miss ? If the Judge had a wife 
 now, I shouldn’t think of calling her any thing 
 but Miss Temple ; but — ” 
 
 “ Having nothing but a daughter, you will ob 
 serve that style to her, if you please, in future,’ 
 interrupted Marmaduke. 
 
 As the Judge looked seriously displeased, and, 
 at such moments, carried a particularly command- 
 ing air with him, the wary housekeeper made no 
 reply ; and, Mr. Grant entering the room, the 
 whole party were soon seated at the table. Aa 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 48 
 
 the arrangements of this repast were much in the 
 prevailing taste of that period and country, we 
 shall endeavor to give a short description of the 
 appearance of the banquet. 
 
 The table-linen was of the most beautiful dam- 
 ask, and the plates and dishes of real china, an 
 article of great luxury at this early period in 
 American commerce. The knives and forks were 
 of exquisitely-polished steel, and were set in un- 
 clouded ivory. So much, being furnished by the 
 wealth of Marmaduke, was not only comfortable, 
 but even elegant. The contents of the several 
 dishes, and their positions, however, were the re- 
 sult of the sole judgment of Remarkable. Before 
 Elizabeth, was placed an enormous roasted turkey, 
 and before Richard, one boiled. In the centre of 
 the table, stood a pair of heavy silver casters, 
 surrounded by four dishes ; one a fricassee, that 
 consisted of gray squirrels ; another of fish fried ; 
 a third of fish boiled; the last was a venison 
 steak. Between these dishes and the turkeys, 
 stood, on the one side, a prodigious chine of 
 roasted bear’s meat, arl on the other a boiled 
 leg of delicious mutton. Interspersed among this 
 load of meats, was every species of vegetables 
 that the season and country afforded. The four 
 comers were garnished with plates of cake. On 
 one was piled certain curiously twisted and com- 
 plicated figures, called “ nut-cakes.” On another 
 were heaps of a black-looking substance, which, 
 receiving its hue from molasses, was properly 
 termed “ sweet-cake ; ” a wonderful favorite in 
 the coterie of Remarkable. A third was filled, to 
 use the language of the housekeeper, with “ cards 
 of gingerbread ; ” and the last held a “ plum- 
 cake,” so caUed from the nymber of large raisins 
 that were showing their black heads in a sub- 
 stance of a suspiciously similar color. At each 
 corner of the table stood saucers, filled with a 
 thick fluid, of somewhat equivocal color and con- 
 sistence, variegated with small dark lumps of a 
 substance that resembled nothing but itself, which 
 Remarkable termed her “ sweetmeats.” At the 
 side of each plate, which was placed bottom up- 
 ward, with its knife and fork most accurately 
 crossed above it, stood another, of smaller size, 
 containing a motley-looking pie, composed of tri- 
 angular slices of apple, mince, pumpkin, cran- 
 berry, and custard , so arranged as to form an 
 entire whole. Decanters of brandy, rum, gin, and 
 wine, with sundry pitchers of cider, beer, and one 
 hissing vessel of “flip,” were put wherever an 
 opening would admit of their introduction. Not- 
 withstanding the size of the tables, there was 
 scarcely a spot where the rich damask could be 
 seen so crowded were the dishes, with their as- 
 
 sociated bottles, plates, and saucers. The object 
 seemed to be profusion, and it was obtained en- 
 tirely at the expense of order and elegance. 
 
 All the guests, as well as the Judge himself, 
 seemed perfectly familiar with this description of 
 fare, for each one commenced eating, with an ap. 
 petite that promised to do great honor to Re- 
 markable’s taste and skill. What rendered this 
 attention to the repast a little surprising, was the 
 fact that both the German and Richard had been 
 summoned from another table, to meet the J udge ; 
 but Major Hartmann both ate and drank without 
 any rule, when on his excursions; and Mr. Jones 
 invariably made it a point to participate in the 
 business in hand, let it be what it would. The 
 host seemed to think some apology necessary for 
 the warmth he had betrayed on the subject of 
 the firewood, and when the party were comfort- 
 ably seated, and engaged with their knives and 
 forks, he observed : 
 
 “ The wastefulness of the settlers, with the no- 
 ble trees of this country, is shocking, Monsieur Le 
 Quoi, as doubtless you have noticed. I have seen 
 a man fell a pine, when he has been in want of 
 fencing-stuff, and roll his first cuts into the gap 
 where he left it to rot, though its top would have 
 made rails enough to answer his purpose, and its 
 butt would have sold in the Philadelphia market 
 for twenty dollars.” 
 
 “And how the devil — I beg your pardon, Mr. 
 Grant,” interruped Richard ; “ but how is the poor 
 devil to get his logs to the Philadelphia market, 
 pray ? put them in his pocket, ha ! as you would 
 a handful of chestnuts, or a bunch of chicker-ber- 
 ries ? 1 should like to see you walking up High 
 Street, with a pine log in each pocket ! — Poh ! poh ! 
 cousin ’duke, there are trees enough for us all, 
 and some to spare. Why, I can hardly tell which 
 way the wind blows, when I’m out in the clearings, 
 they are so thick and so tall— I couldn’t at all, 
 if it wasn’t for the clouds, and I happen to know 
 all the points of the compass, as it were, by heart.” 
 
 “ Ay ! ay ! squire,” cried. Benjamin, who had 
 now entered, and taken his place behind the 
 Judge’s chair, a little aside withal, in order to be 
 ready for any observation like the present ; “ look 
 aloft, sir, look aloft. The old seamen say, ‘that 
 the devil wouldn’t make a sailor, unless he look’d 
 aloft.’ As for the compass, why, there is no such 
 thing as steering without one. I’m sure I never 
 lose sight of the main-top, as I call the squire’s 
 lookout on the roof, but I set my compass, d’ye 
 see, and take the bearings and distance of things, 
 in order to work out my course, if-so-be that it 
 should cloud up, or the tops of the trees should 
 shut out the light of heaven. The steeple of St 
 
INQUIRIES ABOUT THE STRANGER. 
 
 49 
 
 Paul’s, now that we have got it on end, is a great 
 help to the navigation of the woods, for, by the 
 Lord Harry, as I was — ” 
 
 “It is well, Benjamin,” interrupted Marma- 
 duke, observing that his daughter manifested dis- 
 pleasure at the major-domo’s familiarity ; “but 
 you forget there is a lady in company, and the 
 women love to do most of the talking themselves.” 
 
 “The Judge says the true word,” cried Benja- 
 min, with one of his discordant laughs. “ Now 
 here is Mistress Remarkable Prettybones ; just 
 take the stopper off her tongue, and you’ll hear a 
 gabbling worse like than if you should happen to 
 fall to leeward in crossing a French privateer, or 
 some such thing, mayhap, as a dozen monkeys 
 stowed in one bag.” 
 
 It were impossible to say how perfect an illus- 
 tration of the truth of Benjamin’s assertion the 
 housekeeper would have furnished, if she had 
 dared ; but the Judge looked sternly at her, and, 
 unwilling to incur his resentment, yet unable to 
 contain her anger, she threw herself out of the 
 room, with a toss of the body that nearly separated 
 her frail form in the centre. 
 
 “Richard,” said Marmaduke, observing that 
 his displeasure had produced the desired effect, 
 “ can you inform me of any thing concerning the 
 youth whom I so unfortunately wounded ? I found 
 him on the mountain, hunting in company with 
 the Leather-stocking, as if they were of the same 
 family ; but there is a manifest difference in their 
 manners. The youth delivers himself in chosen 
 language ; such as is seldom heard in these hills, 
 and such as occasions great surprise to me, how 
 one so meanly clad, and following so lowly a pur- 
 suit, could attain. Mohegan also knew him. 
 Doubtless he is a tenant of Natty’s hut. Did you 
 remark the language of the lad, Monsieur Le 
 Quoi ?” 
 
 “ Certainement, Monsieur Tempi’,” returned 
 the Frenchman, “he deed conovairse in de excellent 
 Anglaise.” 
 
 “ The boy. is no miracle,” exclaimed Richard ; 
 
 “ I’ve known children that were sent to school 
 early, talk much better before they were twelve 
 years old. There was Zared Coe, old Nehemiah’s 
 son, who first settled on the beaver-dam meadow, 
 he could write almost as good a hand as myself, 
 when he was fourteen ; though it’s true, I helped 
 to teach him a little in the evenings. But this 
 shooting gentleman ought to be put in the stocks, 
 if he ever takes a rein in his hand again. He is 
 the most awkward fellow about a horse I ever met 
 with. I dare say he never drove any thing but 
 oxen in his life.” 
 
 “ There, I think, Dickon, you do the lad in- 
 
 43 
 
 justice,” said the Judge ; “he uses much discn> 
 tion in critical moments. Dost thou not think so, 
 Bess ? ” 
 
 There was nothing in this question particular • 
 ly to excite blushes, but Elizabeth started from 
 the reverie into which she had fallen, and colored 
 to her forehead, as she answered : 
 
 “To me, dear sir, he appeared extremely skil- 
 ful, and prompt, and courageous ; but perhaps 
 cousin Richard will say I am as ignorant as the 
 gentleman himself.” 
 
 “ Gentlemen ! ” echoed Richard ; “ do you call 
 such chaps gentlemen, at school, Elizabeth ? ” 
 
 “ Every man is a gentleman that knows how 
 to treat a woman with respect and consideration,” 
 returned the young lady, promptly, and a little 
 smartly. 
 
 “ So much for hesitating to appear before the 
 heiress in his shirt-sleeves,” cried Richard, wink- 
 ing at Monsieur Le Quoi, who returned the wink 
 with one eye, while he rolled the other, with an 
 expression of t» empathy, toward the young lady. 
 “Well, well, to me he seemed any thing but a 
 gentleman. I must say, however, for the lad, that 
 he draws a good trigger, and has a true aim. 
 He’s good at shooting a buck, ha ! Marmaduke ? ” 
 
 “ Richart,” said Major Hartmann, turning his 
 grave countenance toward the gentleman he ad- 
 dressed, with much earnestness, “ ter poy is goot. 
 He savet your life, and my life, and ter life of 
 Tominie Grant, and ter life of ter Frenchman j 
 and, Richart, he shall never vant a pet to sleep in 
 vile olt Fritz Hartmann has a shingle to cover 
 his het mit.” 
 
 “ Well, well, as you please, old gentleman,” 
 returned Mr. Jones, endeavoring to look indiffer- 
 ent ; “ put him into your own stone house, if you 
 will, major. I dare say the lad never slept in any 
 thing better than a bark shanty in his life, unless 
 it was some such hut as the cabin of Leather- 
 stocking. I prophesy you will soon spoil him : 
 any one could see how proud he grew, in a short 
 time, just because he stood by my horses’ heads, 
 while I turned them into the highway.” 
 
 “ No, no, my old friend,” cried Marmaduke, “ it 
 shall be my task to provide in some manner for 
 the youth : I owe him a debt of my own, besides 
 the service he has done me, through my friends. 
 And yet I anticipate some little trouble, in induc- 
 ing him to accept of my services. He showed a 
 marked dislike, I thought, Bess, to my offer of a 
 residence within these walls for life.” 
 
 “ Really, dear sir,” said Elizabeth, projecting 
 her beautiful under-lip, “ I have not studied the 
 gentleman so closely as to read his feelings in 
 his countenance. I thought he might very natu- 
 
50 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 rally feel pain from his wound, and therefore 
 pitied him ; but and as she spoke she glanced 
 her eye, with suppressed curiosity, toward the 
 major-domo — “ I dare say, sir, that Benjamin can 
 tell you something about him. He cannot have 
 been in the village, and Benjamin not have seen 
 him often.” 
 
 “Ay! I have seen the boy before,” said Ben 
 jsmin, who wanted little encouragement to speak ; 
 
 “ he has been backing and filling in the wake of 
 Natty Bumppo, through the mountains, after deer, 
 like a Dutch long-boat in tow of an Albany sloop. 
 He carries a good rifle, too. The Leather-stock- 
 ing said, in my hearing, before Betty Hollister’s 
 bar-room fire, no later than the Tuesday night, 
 that the younker was certain death to the wild 
 beasts. If-so-be he can kill the wild-cat that has 
 been heard moaning on the lake side since the 
 hard frosts and deep snows have driven the deer to 
 herd, he will be doing the thing that is good. 
 Your wild-cat is a bad shipmate, and should be 
 made to cruise out of the track of Christian men.” 
 
 “ Lives he in the hut of Bumppo ? ” asked 
 Marmaduke, with some interest. 
 
 “ Cheek by jowl : the Wednesday will be three 
 weeks since he first hove in sight, in company 
 with Leather-stocking. They had captured a 
 wolf between them, and had brought in his scalp 
 for the bounty. That Mister Bump-ho has a handy 
 turn with him in taking off a scalp ; and there’s 
 them, in this here village, who say he larnt the 
 trade by working on Christian men. If-so-be that 
 there is truth in the saying, and I commanded 
 along shore here, as your honor does, why, d’ye 
 see, I’d bring him to the gangway for it, yet. 
 There’s a very pretty post rigged alongside of the 
 stocks ; and for the matter of a cat, I can fit one 
 with my own hands ; ay ! and use it too, for the 
 want of a better.” 
 
 “ You are not to credit the idle tales you hear 
 of Natty ; he has a kind of natural right to gain a 
 livelihood in these mountains ; and if the idlers in 
 the village take it into their heads to annoy him, 
 as they sometimes do reputed rogues, they shall 
 find him protected by the strong arm of the law.” 
 
 “ Ter rifle is petter as ter law,” said the major, 
 sententiously. 
 
 “ That for his rifle ! ” exclaimed Richard, 
 snapping his fingers; “Ben is right, and I — ” 
 He was stopped by the sounds of a common ship- 
 bell, that had been elevated to the belfry of the 
 academy, which now announced, by its incessant 
 ringing, that the hour for the appointed service 
 had arrived. “ ‘ For this, and every other instance 
 of his goodness ’ — I beg pardon, Mr. Grant, will you 
 please to return thanks, sir ? it is time we should 
 
 be moving, as we are the only Episcopalians ia 
 the neighborhood ; that is I, and Benjamin, and 
 Elizabeth ; for I count half-breeds, like Marma- 
 duke, as bad as heretics.” 
 
 The divine arose, and performed the office, 
 meekly and fervently, and the whole party in- 
 stantly prepared themselves for the church — or 
 rather academy. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 “ And, calling sinful man to pray, 
 
 Loud, long, and deep, the bell had tolled.” 
 
 Scott’s Bitrghkb. 
 
 While Richard and Monsieur Le Quoi, at- 
 tended by Benjamin, proceeded to the academy 
 by a footpath through the snow, the Judge, hia 
 daughter, the divine, and the major, took a more 
 circuitous route to the same place by the streets 
 of the village. 
 
 The moon had risen, and its orb was shedding 
 a flood of light over the dark outline of pines 
 which crowned the eastern mountain. In many 
 climates the sky would have been thought clear 
 and lucid for a noontide. The stars twinkled in 
 the heavens, like the last glimmerings of distant 
 fire, so much were they obscured by the over- 
 whelming radiance of the atmosphere; the rays 
 from the moon striking upon the smooth, white 
 surfaces of the lake and fields, reflecting upward 
 a light that was brightened by the spotless color 
 of the immense bodies of snow which covered the 
 earth. 
 
 Elizabeth employed herself' with reading the 
 signs, one of which appeared over almost every 
 door ; while the sleigh moved steadily, and at an 
 easy gait, along the principal street. Not only 
 new occupations, but names that were strangers 
 to her ears, met her gaze at every step they pro- 
 ceeded. The very houses seemed changed. This 
 had been altered by an addition ; that had been 
 painted : another had been erected on the site of 
 an old acquaintance, which had been banished 
 from the earth almost as soon as it made its ap- 
 pearance on it. All were, however, pouring forth 
 their inmates, who uniformly held their way 
 toward the point where the expected exhibition 
 of the conjoint taste of Richard and Benjamin 
 was to be made. 
 
 After viewing the buildings, which really ap- 
 peared to some advantage, under the bright but 
 mellow light of the moon, our heroine turned her 
 eyes to a scrutiny of the different figures tnat they 
 passed, in search of any form that she knew. But 
 I all seemed alike, as muffled in cloaks, hoods, 
 
MRS. HOLLISTER’S WELCOME. 
 
 51 
 
 coats, or tippets, they glided along the narrow 
 passages in the snow which led under the houses, 
 half hid by the bank that had been thrown up in 
 excavating the deep path in which they trod. 
 Once or twice she thought there was a stature or 
 a gait that she recollected ; but the person who 
 owned it instantly disappeared behind one of 
 those enormous piles of wood that lay before 
 most of the doors. It was only as they turned 
 from the main street into another that intersected 
 it at right angles, and which led directly to the 
 place of meeting, that she recognized a face and 
 building that she knew. 
 
 The house stood at one of the principal cor- 
 ners in the village; and, by its well-trodden 
 door-way, as well as the sign that was swinging 
 with a kind of doleful sound in the blasts that 
 occasionally swept down the lake, was clearly one 
 of the most frequented inns in the place. The 
 building was only of one story; but the dormer- 
 windows in the roof, the paint, the window-shut- 
 ters, and the cheerful fire that shone through the 
 open door, gave it an air of comfort that was not 
 possessed by many of its neighbors. The sign 
 was suspended from a common ale-house post, and 
 represented the figure of a horseman, armed with 
 sabre and pistols, and surmounted by a bear-skin 
 cap, with a fiery animal that he bestrode “ ram- 
 pant.” All these particulars were easily to be 
 seen by the aid of the moon, together with a row 
 of somewhat illegible writing in black paint, but 
 in which Elizabeth, to whom the whole was famil- 
 iar, read with facility, “ The Bold Dragoon.” 
 
 A man and a woman were issuing from the 
 door of this habitation as the sleigh was passing. 
 The former moved with a stiff, military step, that 
 was a good deal heightened by a limp in one leg; 
 but the woman advanced with a measure and an 
 air that seemed not particularly regardful of what 
 she might encounter. The light of the moon fell 
 directly upon her full, broad, and red visage, ex- 
 hibiting her masculine countenance, under the 
 mockery of a ruffled cap that was intended to soft- 
 en the lineaments of features that were by no 
 means squeamish. A small bonnet of black silk, 
 and of a slightly formal cut, was placed on the 
 back of her head, but so as not to shade her vis- 
 age in the least. The face, as it encountered the 
 rays of the moon from the east, seemed not un- 
 like sun rising in the west. She advanced with 
 masculine strides, to intercept the sleigh ; and the 
 Judge, directing the namesake of the Grecian 
 king, who held the lines, to check his horses, the 
 parties were soon near to each other. 
 
 “ Good luck to ye, and a wilcome home, 
 rooge,” cried the female, with a strong Irish 
 
 accent; “and I’m sure it’s to me thatye’r always 
 wilcome. Sure ! and there’s Miss ’Lizzy, and a 
 fine young woman is she grown. What a heart- 
 ache would she be giving the young men now, if 
 there was sich a thing as a rigiment in the town l 
 Och ! but it’s idle to talk of sich vanities, while 
 the bell is calling us to mateing jist as we shall be 
 call d away unexpictedly some day, when we are 
 the laist calkilating. Good-even, major : will I 
 make the bowl of gin toddy the night? or it’s 
 likely ye’ll stay at the big house the Christmas eve, 
 and the very night of ye’r getting there ? ” 
 
 “I am glad to see you, Mrs. Hollister,” re- 
 turned Elizabeth. “ I have been trying to find a 
 face that I knew since we left the door of the man- 
 sion-house ; but none have I seen except your own. 
 Your house, too, is unaltered ; while all the others 
 are so changed that, but for the places where 
 they stand, they would be utter strangers. I ob- 
 serve you also keep the dear sign that I saw cous- 
 in Richard paint ; and even the name at the bot- 
 tom, about which, you may remember, you had 
 the disagreement." 
 
 “ It is the bould dragoon, ye mane ? And what 
 name would he have, who niver was known by 
 any other, as my husband here, the captain, can 
 testify. He was a pleasure to wait upon, and 
 was ever the foremost in need. Och ! but he had 
 a sudden end ! But it’s to be hoped that he was 
 justified by the cause. And it’s not Parson Grant 
 there who’ll gainsay that same. Yes, yes; the 
 squire would paint, and so I thought that we 
 might have his face up there, who had so often 
 shared good and evil wid us. The eyes is no so 
 large nor so fiery as the captain’s own ; but the 
 whiskers and the cap is as two paes. Well, well, 
 I’il not keep ye in the cowld, talking, but will 
 drop in the morrow after sarvice, and ask ye how 
 ye do. It’s our bounden duty to make the most of 
 this present, and to go to the house which is open 
 to all ; so God bless ye, and keep ye from evil ! 
 Will I make the gin-twist the night, or no, major ? ” 
 
 To this question the German replied, very 
 sententiously, in the affirmative ; and, after a few 
 words had passed between the husband of this 
 fiery-faced hostess and the Judge, the sleigh 
 moved on. It soon reached the door of the acad- 
 emy, where the party alighted and entered the 
 building. 
 
 In the mean time, Mr. Jones and his two com- 
 panions, having a much shorter distance to jour- 
 ney, had arrived before the appointed place several 
 minutes sooner than the party in the sleigh. In- 
 stead of hastening into the room, in order to 
 enjoy the astonishment of the settlers, Richard 
 placed a hand in either pocket of his surtout, and 
 
62 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 affected to walk about, in front of the academy, 
 like one to whom the ceremonies were familiar. 
 
 The villagers proceeded uniformly into the 
 building, with a decorum and gravity that noth- 
 ing could move, on such occasions ; but with a 
 haste that was probably a little heightened by 
 curiosity. Those who came in from the adjacent 
 country spent some little time in placing certain 
 blue and white blankets over their horses before 
 they proceeded to indulge their desire to view the 
 interior of the house. Most of these men Rich- 
 ard approached, and inquired after the health 
 and condition of their families. The readiness 
 with which he mentioned the names of even the 
 children, showed how very familiarly acquainted 
 he was with their circumstances ; and the nature 
 of the answers he received proved that he was a 
 general favorite. 
 
 At length one of the pedestrians from the vil- 
 lage stopped also, and fixed an earnest gaze at 
 a new brick edifice that was throwing a long 
 shadow across the fields of snow, as it rose, with 
 a beautiful gradation of light and shade, under 
 the rays of a full moon. In front of the acad- 
 emy was a vacant piece of ground, that was 
 intended for a public square. On the side oppo- 
 eite to Mr. Jones, the new and as yet unfinished 
 church of St. Paul’s was erected. This edifice 
 had been reared during the preceding summer, 
 by the aid of what was called a subscription ; 
 though all, or nearly all, of the money came from 
 the pocket of the landlord. It had been built 
 under a strong conviction of the necessity of a 
 more seemly place of worship than “ the long 
 room of the academy,” and under an implied 
 agreement that, after its completion, the question 
 should be fairly put to the people, that they 
 might decide to what denomination it should be- 
 long. Of course, this expectation kept alive a 
 strong excitement in some few of the sectaries 
 who were interested in its decision ; though but 
 little was said openly on the subject. Had Judge 
 Temple espoused the cause of any particular 
 sect, the question would have been immediately 
 put at rest, for his influence was too powerful to 
 be opposed ; but he declined interference in the 
 matter, positively refusing to lend even the 
 weight of his name on the side of Richard, who 
 had secretly given an assurance to his diocesan, 
 that both the building and the congregation would 
 cheerfully come within the pale of the Protestant 
 Episcopal Church. But, when the neutrality of 
 the Judge was clearly ascertained, Mr. Jones 
 discovered that he had to contend with a stiff- 
 necked people. His first measure was to go 
 among them, and commence a course of reason- 
 
 ing, in order to bring them round to his own way 
 of thinking. They all heard him patiently, and 
 not a man uttered a word in reply, in the way of 
 argument : and Richard thought, by the time 
 that he had gone through the settlement, the 
 point was conclusively decided in his favor. 
 Willing to strike while the iron was hot, he called 
 a meeting, through the newspaper, with a view to 
 decide the question, by a vote, at once. Not a 
 soul attended ; and one of the most anxious after- 
 noons that he had ever known was spent by 
 Richard in a vain discussion with Mrs. Hollister, 
 who strongly contended that the Methodist (her 
 own) church was the best entitled to, and most 
 deserving of, the possession of the new taber- 
 nacle. Richard now perceived that he had been 
 too sanguine, and had fallen into the error of all 
 those who ignorantly deal with that wary and 
 sagacious people. He assumed a disguise him- 
 self— that is, as well as he knew how, and pro- 
 ceeded step by step to advance his purpose. 
 
 The task of erecting the building had been 
 unanimously transferred to Mr. J ones and Hiram 
 Doolittle. Together they had built the mansion- 
 house, the academy, and the jail ; and they alone 
 knew how to plan and rear such a structure as 
 was now required. Early in the day, these archi- 
 tects had made an equitable division of theix 
 duties. To the former was assigned the duty of 
 making all the plans, and to the latter, the labor 
 of superintending the execution. 
 
 Availing himself of this advantage, Richard 
 silently determined that the windows should have 
 the Roman arch ; the first positive step in effect- 
 ing his wishes. As the building was made of 
 bricks, he was enabled to conceal his design, 
 until the moment arrived for placing the frames : 
 then, indeed, it became necessary to act. He 
 communicated his wishes to Hiram with great 
 caution ; and, without in the least adverting to 
 the spiritual part of his project, he pressed the 
 point a little warmly, on the score of architectural 
 beauty. Hiram heard him patiently, and with- 
 out contradiction ; but still Richard was unable 
 to discover the views of his coadjutor on this 
 interesting subject. As the right to plan was 
 duly delegated to Mr. Jones, no direct objection 
 was made in words, but numberless unexpected 
 difficulties arose in the execution. At first there 
 was a scarcity in the right kind of material ne- 
 cessary to form the frames; but this objection 
 was instantly silenced, by Richard running his 
 pencil through two feet of their length at one 
 stroke. Then the expense was mentioned ; bui 
 Richard reminded Hiram that his cousin paid, 
 and that lie was his treasurer. This last intima 
 
NEW ST. PAUL’S. 
 
 tion had great weight, and after a silent and pro- 
 tracted, but fruitless opposition, the work was 
 Buffered to proceed on the original plan. 
 
 The next difficulty occurred in the steeple, 
 which Richard had modelled after one of the 
 smaller of those spires that adorn the great 
 London cathedral. The imitation was somewhat 
 lame, it is true, the proportions being but indif- 
 ferently observed; but, after much difficulty, 
 Mr. Jones had the satisfaction of seeing an 
 object reared that bore, in its outlines, a striking 
 resemblance to a vinegar-cruct. There was less 
 opposition to this model than to the windows ; 
 for the settlers were fond of novelty, and their 
 steeple was without a precedent. 
 
 Here the labor ceased for the season, and the 
 difficult question of the interior remained for 
 further deliberation. Richard well knew that, 
 when he came to propose a reading-desk and a 
 chancel, he must unmask ; for these were arrange- 
 ments known to no church in the country but his 
 own. Presuming, however, on the advantages 
 he had already obtained, he boldly styled the 
 building St. Paul’s, and Hiram prudently acqui- 
 esced in this appellation, making, however, the 
 slight addition of calling it “ New St. Paul’s,” 
 feeling less aversion to a name taken from the 
 English cathedral than from the saint. 
 
 The pedestrian whom we have already men- 
 tioned, as pausing to contemplate this edifice, 
 was no other than the gentleman so frequently 
 named as Mr., or Squire, Doolittle. He was of 
 a tall, gaunt formation, with rather sharp feat- 
 ures, and a face that expressed formal propriety, 
 mingled with low cunning. Richard approached 
 him, followed by Monsieur Le Quoi and the 
 major-domo. 
 
 “Good-evening, squire,” said Richard, bob- 
 bing his head, but without moving his hands 
 from his pockets. 
 
 “ Good-evening, squire,” echoed Hiram, turn- 
 ing his body, in order to turn his head also. 
 
 “A cold night, Mr. Doolittle, a cold night, 
 
 sir.” 
 
 “ Coolish ; a tedious spell on’t.” 
 
 “ What, looking at our church, ha ! it looks 
 well, by moonlight ; how the tin of the cupola 
 glistens ! I warrant you the dome of the other St. 
 Paul’s never shines so in the smoke of London.” 
 
 “It is a pretty meeting-house to look on,” re- 
 turned Hiram, “ and I believe that Monshure Ler 
 Quow and Mr. Penguilliam will allow it.” 
 
 “ Sairtainlee ! ” exclaimed the complaisant 
 Frenchman, “ it ees ver fine.” 
 
 “ I thought the monshure would say so. The 
 last molasses that we had was excellent good. It 
 
 53 
 
 isn’t likely that you have any more of it on 
 hand ? ” 
 
 “ Ah ! oui ; ees, sair,” returned Monsieur Le 
 Quoi, with a slight shrug of his shoulder, and a 
 trifling grimace, “ dere is more. I feel ver bappi 
 dat you love eet. I hope dat Madame Doleet’ is 
 in good ’ealth.” 
 
 “ Why, so as to be stirring,” said Hiram. — 
 “ The squire hasn’t finished the plans for the in- 
 side of the meeting-house yet ? ” 
 
 “No — no — no,” returned Richard, speaking 
 quickly, but making a significant pause between 
 each negative — “ it requires reflection. There is 
 a great deal of room to fill up, and I am afraid 
 we shall not know how to dispose of it to advan- 
 tage. There will be a large vacant spot around 
 the pulpit, which I do not mean to place against 
 the wall, like a sentry-box stuck up on the side 
 of a fort.” 
 
 “ It is rulable to put the deacon’s box under 
 the pulpit,” said Hiram ; and then, as if he had 
 ventured too much, he added, “ but there’s differ- 
 ent fashions in different countries.” 
 
 “That there is,” cried Benjamin; “now, in 
 running down the coast of Spain and Portingall, 
 you may see a nunnery stuck out on every head- 
 land, with more steeples and outriggers, such as 
 dog-vanes and weather-cocks, than you’ll find 
 aboard of a three-masted schooner. If-so-be that 
 a well-built church is wanting, old England, after 
 all, is the country to go to after your models and 
 fashion pieces. As to Paul’s, thof I’ve never seen 
 it, being that it’s a long way up town from Rad- 
 cliffe-highway and the docks, yet everybody knows 
 that it’s the grandest place in the world. Now, 
 I’ve no opinion but this here church over there 
 is as like one end of it as a grampus is to a 
 whale ; and that’s only a small difference in bulk. 
 Mounsheer Ler Quaw, here, has been in foreign 
 parts ; and thof that is not the same as having 
 been at home, yet he must have seen churches in 
 France too, and can form a small idee of what a 
 church should be ; now, I ask the mounsheer to 
 his face, if it is not a clever little thing, taking it 
 by and large ? ” 
 
 “ It ees ver apropos of saircum stance,” said 
 the Frenchman — “ ver judgment — but it is in de 
 catholique country dat dey build de— vat you call 
 — ah a ah-ha — la grande cathedrale — de big 
 church. St. Paul, Londre, is ver fine ; ver belle ; 
 ver grand — vat you call beeg ; but, Monsieur Ben, 
 pardonnez-moi, it is no vort so much as Notre- 
 Dame.” 
 
 “Ha! mounsheer, what is that you say?” 
 cried Benjamin — “ St. Paul’s church not worth so 
 much as a damn 1 Mayhap you may be thinking 
 
54 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 too that the Royal Billy isn’t so good a ship as 
 the Billy de Paris ; but she would have licked two 
 of her, any day, and in all weathers.” 
 
 As Benjamin had assumed a very threatening 
 kind of attitude, flourishing an arm, with a bunch 
 at the end of it that was half as big as Monsieur 
 Le Quoi’s head, Richard thought it time to inter- 
 pose his authority. 
 
 “ Hush, Benjamin, hush,” he said ; “ you both 
 misunderstand Monsieur Le Quoi, and forget 
 yourself.— But here comes Mr. Grant, and the ser- 
 vice will commence. Let us go in.” 
 
 The Frenchman, who received Benjamin’s re- 
 ply with a well-bred good-humor, that would not 
 admit of any feeling but pity for the other’s igno- 
 rance, bowed in acquiescence, and followed his 
 companion. 
 
 Hiram and the major-domo brought up the 
 rear, the latter grumbling, as he entered the 
 building — 
 
 “ If-so-be that the king of France had so 
 much as a house to live in, that would lay along 
 side of Paul’s, one might put up with their jaw. 
 It’s more than flesh and blood can bear, to hear a 
 Frenchman run down an English church in this 
 manner. Why, Squire Doolittle, I’ve been at the 
 whipping of two of them in one day — clean built, 
 snug frigates, with standiDg-royals, and them 
 new-fashioned cannonades on their quarters — 
 ®uch as, if they had only Englishmen aboard of 
 them, would have fout the devil.” 
 
 With this ominous word in his mouth, Benja- 
 min entered the church. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 “And fools who came to scoff, remained to pray.” 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 Notwithstanding the united labors of Rich- 
 ard and Benjamin, the “ long-room ” was but an 
 extremely inartificial temple. Benches, made in 
 ttie coarsest manner, and entirely with a view to 
 usefulness, were arranged in rows, for the recep- 
 tion of the congregation; while a rough, un- 
 painted box was placed against the wall, in the 
 centre of the length of the apartment, as an apology 
 for a pulpit. Something like a reading-desk was in 
 front of this rostrum ; and a small mahogany table 
 from the mansion-house, covered with a spotless 
 damask cloth, stood a little on one side, by the 
 way of an altar. Branches of pines and hemlocks 
 were stuck in each of the fissures that offered, in 
 the unseasoned and hastily-completed wood -work, 
 
 of both the building and its furniture ; while fes- 
 toons and hieroglyphics met the eye in vast pro- 
 fusion along the brown sides of the scratch-coated 
 walls. As the room was only lighted by some ten 
 or fifteen miserable candles, and the windows 
 were without shutters, it would have been but a 
 dreary, cheerless place for the solemnities of a 
 Christmas-eve, had not the large fire that was 
 crackling at each end of the apartment, given an 
 air of cheerfulness to the scene, by throwing an 
 occasional glare of light through the vistas of 
 bushes and faces. 
 
 The two sexes were separated by an area in 
 the centre of the room immediately before the 
 pulpit ; and a few benches lined this space, that 
 were occupied by the principal personages of the 
 village and its vicinity. This distinction was 
 rather a gratuitous concession, made by the poor- 
 er and less polished part of the population, than 
 a right claimed by the favored few. One bench 
 was occupied by the party of Judge Temple, in- 
 cluding his daughter; and, with the exception 
 of Dr. Todd, no one else appeared willing to in- 
 cur the imputation of pride, by taking a seat in 
 what was, literally, the high place of the taber- 
 nacle. 
 
 Richard filled the chair that was placed behind 
 another table, in the capacity of clerk ; while 
 Benjamin, after heaping sundry logs on the fire, 
 posted himself nigh by, in reserve for any move- 
 ment that might require cooperation. 
 
 It would greatly exceed our limits to attempt 
 a description of the congregation ; for the dresses 
 were as various as the individuals. Some one ar- 
 ticle, of more than usual finery, and perhaps the 
 relic of other days, was to be seen about most of 
 the females, in connection with the coarse attire 
 of the woods. This wore a faded silk, that had 
 gone through at least three generations, over 
 coarse, woollen black stockings; that, a shawl, 
 whose dyes were as numerous as those of the rain- 
 bow, over an awkwardly-fitting gown, of rough 
 brown “ woman’s wear.” In short, each one ex- 
 hibited some favorite article, and all appeared in 
 their best, both men and women; while the 
 ground-works in dress, in either sex, were the 
 coar3e fabrics manufactured within their own dwell- 
 ings. One man appeared in the dress of a volun- 
 teer company of artillery, of which he had been a 
 member in the “down countries,” precisely for 
 no other reason than because it was the best suit 
 he had. Several, particularly of the younger men, 
 displayed pantaloons of blue, edged with red cloth 
 down the seams, part of the equipments of the 
 “ Templeton Light Infantry,” from a little vanity 
 to be seen in “ boughten clothes.” There was 
 
MISS TEMPLE AT CHURCH. 
 
 also one man in a “ rifle frock,” with its fringes 
 and folds of spotless white, striking a chill to the 
 heart with the idea of its coolness ; although the 
 thick coat of brown “home-made,” that was con- 
 cealed beneath, preserved a proper degree of 
 warmth. 
 
 There was a marked uniformity of expression 
 in countenance, especially in that half of the con- 
 gregation who did not enjoy the advantages of 
 the polish of the village. A sallow skin, that in- 
 dicated nothing but exposure, was common to all, 
 as was an air of great decency and attention, min- 
 gled, generally, with an expression of shrewdness, 
 and, in the present instance, of active curiosity. 
 Now and then a face and dress were to be seen 
 among the congregation, that differed entirely 
 from this description. If pock-marked and florid, 
 with gaitered legs, and a coat that snugly fitted 
 -he person of the wearer, it was surely an English 
 emigrant, who had bent his steps to this retired 
 quarter of the globe. If hard-featured, and with- 
 out color, with high cheek-bones, it was a native 
 of Scotland, in similar circumstances. 
 
 The short, black-eyed man, with a cast of the 
 swarthy Spaniard in his face, who rose repeatedly, 
 to make room for the belles of the village as they 
 'entered, was a son of Erin, who had lately left off 
 his pack, and become a stationary trader in Tem- 
 pleton. In short, half the nations in the north 
 of Europe had their representatives in this assem- 
 bly, though all had closely assimilated themselves 
 to the Americans in dress and appearance, except 
 the Englishman. He, indeed, not only adhered to 
 his native customs in attire and living, but usually 
 drove his plough, among the stumps, in the same 
 manner as he had before done on the plains of 
 Norfolk, until dear-bought experience taught him 
 the useful lesson, that a sagacious people knew 
 what was suited to their circumstances better 
 than a casual observer ; or a sojourner, who was, 
 perhaps, too much prejudiced to compare, and, 
 peradventure, too conceited to learn. 
 
 Elizabeth soon discovered that she divided the 
 attention of the congregation with Mr. Grant. 
 Timidity, therefore, confined her observation of the 
 appearances which we have described to stolen 
 glances ; but, as the stamping of feet was now be- 
 coming less frequent, and even the coughing, and 
 other little preliminaries of a congregation settling 
 themselves down into reverential attention, were 
 ceasing, she felt emboldened to look around her. 
 Gradually all noises diminished, until the sup- 
 pressed cough denoted that it was necessary to 
 avoid singularity, and the most profound stillness 
 pervaded the apartment. The snapping of the 
 fires, as they threw a powerful heat into the room, 
 
 55 
 
 was alone heard, and each face, and every eye^ 
 were turned on the divine. 
 
 At this moment, a heavy stamping of feet was 
 heard in the passage below, as if a new-comer 
 was releasing his limbs from the snow that was 
 necessarily clinging to the legs of a pedestrian. It 
 was succeeded by no audible tread ; but directly 
 Mohcgan, followed by the Leather-stocking and 
 the young hunter, made his appearance. Their 
 footsteps would not have been heard, as they trod 
 the apartment in their moccasins, but for the si- 
 lence which prevailed. 
 
 The Indian moved with great gravity across 
 the floor, and, observing a vacant seat next to the 
 Judge, he took it, in a manner that manifested 
 his sense of his own dignity. Here, drawing his 
 blanket closely around him, so as partly to con- 
 ceal his countenance, he remained, during the ser- 
 vice, immovable, but deeply attentive. Natty 
 passed the place that was so freely taken by his 
 red companion, and seated himself on one end of 
 a log that was lying near the fire, where he 
 continued, with his rifle standing between his 
 legs, absorbed in reflections, seemingly of no very 
 pleasing nature. The youth found a seat among 
 the congregation, and another silence prevailed. 
 
 Mr. Grant now arose, and commenced his ser- 
 vice, with the sublime declaration of the Hebrew 
 prophet— “ The Lord is in His holy temple ; let 
 all the earth keep silence before him.” The ex- 
 ample of Mr. J ones was unnecessary to teach the 
 congregation to rise ; the solemnity of the divine 
 effected this as by magic. After a short pause, 
 Mr. Grant proceeded with the solemn and win- 
 ning exhortation of his service. Nothing was 
 heard but the deep, though affectionate, tones of 
 the reader, as he went slowly through this exor- 
 dium ; until, something unfortunately striking the 
 mind of Richard as incomplete, he left his place, 
 and walked on tiptoe from the room. 
 
 When the clergyman bent his knees in prayer 
 and confession, the congregation so far imitated 
 his example as to resume their seats ; whence no 
 succeeding effort of the divine, during the even- 
 ing, was able to remove them in a body. Some 
 rose at times ; but by far the larger part contin- 
 ued unbending ; observant, it is true, but it was 
 the kind of observation that regarded the cere- 
 mony as a spectacle rather than a worship in 
 which they were to participate. Thus deserted 
 by his clerk, Mr. Grant continued to read ; but 
 no response was audible. The short and solemn 
 pause that succeeded each petition was made; 
 still no voice repeated the eloquent language of 
 the prayer. 
 
 The lips of Elizabeth moved, but they moved 
 
56 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 m vain. ; and, accustomed as 6he was to the ser~ i 
 vice of the churches of the metropolis, she was 1 
 beginning to feel the awkwardness of the circum- i 
 stance most painfully, when a soft, low, female ] 
 voice repeated after the priest, “ We have left un- 
 done those things which we ought to have done.” 
 Startled at finding one of her own sex in that 
 place, who could rise superior to natural timidity, 
 Miss Temple turned her eyes in the direction of 
 the penitent. She observed a young female on 
 her knees, but a short distance from her, with 
 her meek face humbly bent over her book. 
 
 The appearance of this stranger, for such she 
 was, entirely, to Elizabeth, was light and fragile. 
 Her dress was neat and becoming; and her coun- 
 tenance, though pale and slightly agitated, excit- 
 ed deep interest by its sweet and melancholy ex- 
 pression. A second and third response were made 
 by this juvenile assistant, when the manly sounds 
 of a male voice proceeded from the opposite part 
 of the room. Miss Temple knew the tones of the 
 young hunter instantly, and, struggling to over- 
 come her own diffidence, she added her low voice 
 to the number. 
 
 All this time Benjamin stood thumbing the 
 leaves of a prayer-book with great industry ; but 
 some unexpected difficulties prevented his finding 
 the place. Before the divine reached the close 
 of the confession, however, Richard reappeared 
 at the door, and, as he moved lightly across the 
 room, he took up the response, in a voice that 
 betrayed no other concern than that of not being 
 heard. In his hand he carried a small open box, 
 with the figures “8 by 10” written in black 
 paint on one of its sides ; which, having placed in 
 the pulpit, apparently as a footstool for the di- 
 vine, he returned to his station in time to say, 
 sonorously, “Amen.” The eyes of the congre- 
 gation, very naturally, were turned to the win- 
 dows, as Mr. Jones entered with this singular 
 load ; and then, as if accustomed to his “ general 
 agency,” were again bent on the priest, in close 
 and curious attention. 
 
 The long experience of Mr. Grant admirably 
 qualified him to perform his present duty. He well 
 understood the character of his listeners, who were 
 mostly a primitive people in their habits; and 
 who, being a good deal addicted to subtilties 
 and nice distinctions in their religious opinions, 
 viewed the introduction of any such temporal as- 
 sistance as form into their spiritual worship, not 
 only with jealousy, but frequently with disgust. 
 He had acquired much of his knowledge from 
 studying the great book of human nature, as it 
 lav open in the world ; and, knowing how dan- 
 gerous it was to contend with ignorance, uni- 
 
 formly endeavored to avoid dictating where hi« 
 better reason taught him it was the most prudent 
 to attempt to lead. His orthodoxy had no de- 
 pendence on his cassock ; he could pray with fer- 
 vor and with faith, if circumstances required it, 
 without the assistance of his clerk ; and he had 
 even been known to preach a most evangelical 
 sermon, in the winning manner of native elo- 
 quence, without the aid of a cambric handker- 
 chief. 
 
 In the present instance he yielded, in many 
 places, to the prejudices of his congregation; 
 and, when he had ended, there was not one of 
 his new hearers who did not think the ceremo- 
 nies less papal and offensive, and more conform- 
 ant to his or her own notions of devout worship, 
 than they had been led to expect from a service 
 of forms. Richard found in the divine, during 
 the evening, a most powerful cooperator in his 
 religious schemes. In preaching, Mr. Grant en- 
 deavored to steer a middle course between the 
 mystical doctrines of those sublimated creeds 
 which daily involve their professors in the most 
 absurd contradictions, and those fluent rules of 
 moral government, which would reduce the Sav- 
 iour to a level with the teacher of a school of eth- 
 ics. Doctrine it was necessary to preach, for noth- 
 ing less would have satisfied the disputatious peo- 
 ple who were his listeners, and who would have 
 interpreted silence on his part into a tacit ac- 
 knowledgment of the superficial nature of his 
 creed. We have already said that, among the 
 endless variety of religious instructors, the settlers 
 were accustomed to hear every denomination urge 
 its own distinctive precepts ; and to have found 
 one indifferent to this interesting subject, would 
 have been destructive to his influence. But Mr. 
 Grant so happily blended the universally re- 
 ceived opinions of the Christian faith "with the 
 dogmas of his own church, that, although none 
 were entirely exempt from the influence of bis 
 reasons, very few took any alarm at the innova- 
 tion. 
 
 “When we consider the great diversity of tbs 
 human character, influenced as it is by education, 
 by opportunity, and by the physical and moral 
 conditions of the creature, my dear hearers,” ho 
 earnestly concluded, “ it can excite no surprise, 
 that creeds so very different in their tendencies 
 . should grow out of a religion, revealed, it is true, 
 ; but whose revelations are obscured by the lapse 
 of ages, and whose doctrines were, after the fash- 
 i ion of the countries in which they were first pro* 
 t mulgated, frequently delivered in parables, and in 
 . a language abounding in metaphors, and loaded 
 with figures. On points where the learned hav^ 
 
REV. MR. GRANT’S SERMON. 
 
 57 
 
 in purity of heart, been compelled to differ, the 
 unlettered will necessarily be at variance. But, 
 happily for us, my brethren, the fountain of di- 
 vine love flows from a source too pure to admit 
 of pollution in its course; it extends, to those 
 who drink of its vivifying waters, the peace of 
 the righteous, and life everlasting ; it endures 
 through all time, and it pervades creation. If 
 thi're be mystery in its workings, it is the mys- 
 . tery of a Divinity. With a clear knowledge of 
 the nature, the might, and majesty of God, there 
 might be conviction, but there could be no faith. 
 If we are required to believe in doctrines that 
 seem not in conformity with the deductions of 
 human wisdom, let us never forget that such is 
 the mandate of a wisdom that is infinite. It is 
 sufficient for us that enough is developed to point 
 our path aright, and to direct our wandering steps 
 to that portal which shall open on the light of an 
 eternal day. Then, indeed, it may be humbly 
 hoped that the film which has been spread by the 
 subtilties of earthly arguments, will be dissipated 
 , by the spiritual light of Heaven ; and that our 
 hour of probation, by the aid of divine grace, be- 
 ing once passed in triumph, will be followed by 
 an eternity of intelligence, and endless ages of 
 fruition. All that is now obscure shall become 
 plain to our expanded faculties ; and what to our 
 present senses may seem irreconcilable to our lim- 
 ited notions of mercy, of justice, and of love, shall 
 stand, irradiated by the light of truth, confessedly 
 the suggestions of Omniscience, and the acts of 
 an All-powerful Benevolence. 
 
 “What a lesson of humility, my brethren, 
 might not each of us obtain from a review of his 
 infant hours, and the recollection of his juvenile 
 passions ! How differently do the same acts of 
 parental rigor appear, in the eyes of the suffer- 
 ing child, and of the chastened man ! When the 
 sophist would supplant, with the wild theories of 
 his worldly wisdom, the positive mandates of in- 
 spiration, let him remember the expansion of his 
 own feeble intellects, and pause — let him feel the 
 wisdom of God in what is partially concealed, as 
 well as in that which is revealed ; in short, let 
 him substitute humility for pride of reason — let 
 him have faith, and live ! 
 
 “ The consideration of this subject is full of 
 consolation, my hearers, and does not fail to 
 bring with it lessons of humility and of profit, 
 that, duly improved, would both chasten the 
 heart and strengthen the feeble-minded man in 
 his course. It is a blessed consolation to be able 
 to lay the misdoubtings of our arrogant nature at 
 the threshold of the dwelling-place of the Deity, 
 from whence they shall be swept away, at the 
 
 great opening of the portal, like the mists of the 
 morning before the rising sun. It teaches us a 
 lesson of humility, by impressing us with the 
 imperfection of human powers, and by warning 
 us of the many weak points where we are open 
 to the attacks of the great enemy of our race ; it 
 proves to us that we are in danger of being weak, 
 when our vanity would fain soothe us into the 
 belief that we are most strong ; it forcibly points 
 out to us the vainglory of intellect, and shows 
 us the vast difference between a saving faith and 
 the corollaries of a philosophical theology; and 
 it teaches us to reduce our self-examination to 
 the test of good works. By good works must be 
 understood the fruits of repentance, the chiefest 
 of which is charity. Not that charity only, which 
 causes us to help the needy and comfort the suf- 
 fering, but that feeling of universal philanthropy, 
 which, by teaching us to love, causes us to judge 
 with lenity, all men ; striking at the root of self- 
 righteousness, and warning us to be sparing of 
 our condemnation of others, while our own salva- 
 tion is not yet secure. 
 
 “ The lesson of expediency, my brethren, 
 which I would gather from the consideration of 
 this subject, is most strongly inculcated by 
 humility. On the leading and essential points of 
 our faith, there is but little difference, among 
 those classes of Christians who acknowledge the 
 attributes of the Saviour, and depend on his medi- 
 ation. But heresies have polluted every church, 
 and schisms are the fruits of disputation. In order 
 to arrest these dangers, and to insure the union 
 of his followers, it would seem that Christ had 
 established his visible church, and delegated the 
 ministry. Wise and holy men, the fathers of our 
 religion, have expended their labors in clearing 
 what was revealed from the obscurities of lan- 
 guage, and the results of their experience and 
 researches have been embodied in the form of 
 evangelical discipline. That this discipline must 
 be salutary, is evident from the view of the "weak- 
 ness of human nature that we have already 
 taken ; and that it may be profitable to us, and 
 all who listen to its precepts and its liturgy, may 
 God, in his infinite wisdom, grant ! — And now 
 to,” &c. 
 
 With this ingenious reference to his own forms 
 and ministry, Mr. Grant concluded the discourse. 
 The most profound attention had been paid to 
 the sermon during the whole of its delivery, 
 although the prayers had not been received with 
 so perfect a demonstration of respect. This was 
 by no means an intended slight of that liturgy 
 to which the divine alluded, but was the habit of 
 a people, who owed their very existence, as « 
 
58 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 distinct naticn, to the doctrinal character of their 
 ancestors. Sundry looks of private dissatisfac- 
 tion were exchanged between Hiram and one or 
 two of the leading members of the conference , 
 but the feeling went no further at that time ; and 
 the congregation, after receiving the blessing of 
 Mr. Grant, dispersed in silence, and with great 
 decorum. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 “ Tour creeds and dogmas of a learned church 
 
 May build a fabric, fair with moral beauty ; 
 
 But it would seem, that the strong hand of God 
 
 Can, only, ’rase the devil from the heart.” 
 
 Duo. 
 
 While the congregation was separating, Mr. 
 Grant approached the place where Elizabeth and 
 her father were seated, leading the youthful fe- 
 male whom we have mentioned in the preceding 
 chapter, and presented her as his daughter. Her 
 reception was as cordial and frank as the man- 
 ners of the country, and the value of good 
 society, could render it; the two young women 
 feeling, instantly, that they were necessary to the 
 comfort of each other. The Judge, to whom the 
 clergyman’s daughter was also a stranger, was 
 pleased to find one who, from habits, sex, and 
 years, could probably contribute largely to the 
 pleasures of his own child, during her first priva- 
 tions, on her removal from the associations of a 
 city to the solitude of Templeton; while Eliza- 
 beth, who had been forcibly struck with the sweet- 
 ness and devotion of the youthful suppliant, 
 removed the slight embarrassment of the timid 
 stranger, by the ease of her own manners. They 
 were at once acquainted; and, during the ten 
 minutes that the “ academy ” was clearing, en- 
 gagements were made between the young people, 
 not only for the succeeding day, but they would 
 probably have embraced in their arrangements 
 half of the winter, had not the divine interrupted 
 them, by saying : 
 
 “ Gently, gently, my dear Miss Temple, or you 
 will make my girl too dissipated. You forget 
 that she is my housekeeper, and that my domestic 
 affairs must remain unattended to, should Louisa 
 accept of half the kind offers you are so good as 
 to make her.” 
 
 “ And why should they not be neglected en- 
 tirely, sir f ’* interrupted Elizabeth. “ There are 
 but two of you ; and certain I am that my father’s 
 house will not only contain you both, but will 
 open its doors spontaneously, to receive such 
 guests. Society is a good, not to be rejected on 
 
 account of cold forms, in this wilderness, sir ; and 
 I have often heard my father say, that hospitality 
 is not a virtue in a new country, the favor being 
 conferred by the guest.” 
 
 “ The manner in which Judge Temple exer- 
 cises its rites would confirm this opinion ; but we 
 must not trespass too freely. Doubt not that yon 
 will see us often, my child particularly, during 
 the frequent visits that I shall be compelled to 
 make to the distant parts of the country. But 
 to obtain an influence with such a people,” he 
 continued, glancing his eyes toward the few who 
 were still lingering, curious observers of the inter- 
 view, “ a clergyman must not awaken envy or 
 distrust, by dwelling under so splendid a roof as 
 that of Judge Temple.” 
 
 “You like the roof, then, Mr. Grant,” cried 
 Richard, who had been directing the extinguish- 
 ment of the fires, and other little necessary duties, 
 and who approached in time to hear the close of 
 the divine’s speech — “ I am glad to find one man 
 of taste at last. Here’s ’duke, now, pretends to 
 call it by every abusive name he can invent; 
 but though ’duke is a tolerable judge, he is a 
 very poor carpenter, let me tell him. Well, sir, 
 well, I think we may say, without boasting, that 
 the service was as well performed this evening as 
 you often see ; I think, quite as well as I ever 
 knew it to be done in old Trinity — that is, if we 
 except the organ. But there is the schoolmaster 
 leads the psalm with a very good air. I used to 
 lead myself, but latterly I have sung nothing but 
 bass. There is a good deal of science to be shown 
 in the bass, and it affords a fine opportunity to 
 show off a full, deep voice. Benjamin, too, sings 
 a good bass, though he is often out in the words. 
 Did you ever hear Benjamin sing the ‘Bay of 
 
 Biscay, 0 ? ’ ” . 
 
 “ I believe he gave us part of it this evening, 
 said Marmaduke, laughing. “There was, now 
 and then, a fearful quaver in his voice, and it 
 seems that Mr. Penguillian is like most others 
 who do one thing particularly well; he knows 
 nothing else. He has, certainly, a wonderful 
 partiality to one tune, and he has a prodigious 
 self-confidence in that one, for he delivers him- 
 self like a northwester sweeping across the lake. 
 But come, gentleman, our way is clear, and the 
 sleigh waits.— Good-evening, Mr. Grant.— Good- 
 night, young lady— remember that you dine be- 
 neath the Corinthian roof to-morrow, with Eliza, 
 beth.” 
 
 The parties separated, Richard holding a 
 close dissertation with Mr. Le Quoi, as they de- 
 scended the stairs, on the subject of psalmody, 
 which he closed by a violent eulogium on the air 
 
THE PASTOR AND HIS NEW FRIENDS. 
 
 59 
 
 of the "Bay of Biscay, 0,” as particularly con- 
 aected with his friend Benjamin’s execution. 
 
 During the preceding dialogue, Mohegan re- 
 tained his seat, with his head shrouded in his 
 blanket, as seemingly inattentive to surrounding 
 objects as the departing congregation was, itself, 
 to the presence of the aged chief. Natty, also, 
 continued on the log where he had first placed 
 himself, with his head resting on one of his hands, 
 while the other held the rifle, which was thrown 
 carelessly across his lap. His countenance ex- 
 pressed uneasiness, and the occasional unquiet 
 glances that he had thrown around him during 
 the service, plainly indicated some unusual causes 
 for unhappiness. His continuing seated was, 
 however, out of respect to the Indian chief, to 
 whom he paid the utmost deference on all occa- 
 sions, although it was mingled with the rough 
 manner of a hunter. 
 
 The young companion of these two ancient 
 inhabitants of the forest remained also standing 
 before the extinguished brands, probably from an 
 unwillingness to depart without his comrades. 
 The room was now deserted by all but this group, 
 the divine, and his daughter. As the party from 
 the mansion-house disappeared, John arose, and, 
 dropping the blanket from his head, he shook 
 back the mass of black hair from his face, and, 
 approaching Mr. Grant, he extended his hand, and 
 said solemnly : 
 
 “ Father, I thank you. The words that have 
 been said, since the rising moon, have gone up- 
 ward, and the Great Spirit is glad. What you 
 have told your children, they will remember, and 
 be good.” He paused a moment, and then, ele- 
 vating himself with the grandeur of an Indian 
 chief, he added : “ If Chingachgook lives to 
 travel toward the setting sun, after his tribe, and 
 the Great Spirit carries him over the lakes and 
 mountains with the breath in his body, he will 
 tell his people the good talk he has heard ; and 
 they will believe him ; for who can say that Mo- 
 hegan has ever lied ? ” 
 
 “ Let him place his dependence on the good- 
 ness of Divine mercy,” said Mr. Grant, to whom 
 the proud consciousness of the Indian sound- 
 ed a little heterodox, “and it never will desert 
 him. When the heart is filled with love to God, 
 there is no room for sin. — But, young man, 
 to you I owe not only an obligation, in common 
 with those you saved this evening on the moun- 
 tain, but my thanks, for your respectful and pious 
 manner in assisting in the service at a most em- 
 barrassing moment. I should be happy to see 
 you sometimes at my dwelling, when, perhaps, 
 my conversation may strengthen you in the path 
 
 which you appear to have chosen. It is so un. 
 usual to find one of your age and appearance, in 
 these woods, at all acquainted with our holy lit- 
 urgy, that it lessens at once the distance between 
 us, and I feel that we are no longer strangers. 
 You seem quite at home in the service ; I did not 
 perceive that you had even a book, although good 
 Mr. Jones had laid several in different parts of the 
 room.” 
 
 “ It would be strange if I were ignorant of 
 the service of our church, sir,” returned the youth, 
 modestly ; “ for I was baptized in its communion, 
 and I have never yet attended public worship 
 elsewhere. For me to use the forms of any other 
 denomination, would be as singular as our owflh. 
 have proved to the people here this evening.” 
 
 “ You give me great pleasure, my deal sir,” 
 cried the divine, seizing the other by the hand, 
 and shaking it cordially. “You will go home 
 with me now — indeed you must — my child has 
 yet to thank you for saving my life. I will listen 
 to no apologies. This worthy Indian, and your 
 friend, there, will accompany us. — Bless me ! to 
 think that he has arrived at manhood in this 
 country, without entering a dissenting * meeting- 
 house ! ” 
 
 “No, no,” interrupted the Leather-stocking, 
 “ I must away to the wigwam ; there’s work there 
 that mustn’t be forgotten for all your churchings 
 and merry-makings. Let the lad go with you in 
 welcome ; he is used to keeping company with 
 ministers, and talking of such matters ; so is 
 old John, who was christianized by the Mora- 
 vians about the time of the old war. But I 
 am a plain, unlarned man, that has sarved both 
 the king and his country, in his day, ag’in the 
 French and savages, but never so much as looked 
 into a book, or larnt a letter of scholarship, in my 
 born days. I’ve never seen the use of such in- 
 door work, though I have lived to be partly bald, 
 and in my time have killed two hundred beaver 
 in a season, and that without counting the other 
 game. If you mistrust what I am telling you, you 
 can ask Chingachgook there, for I did it in the 
 heart of the Delaware country, and the old man 
 is knowing to the truth of every word I say.” 
 
 “ I doubt not, my friend, that you have been 
 both a valiant soldier and skilful hunter in your 
 day,” said the divine ; “ but more is wanting to 
 prepare you for that end which approaches. You 
 may nave heard the maxim, that ‘ young men may 
 die, but that old men must .’ ” 
 
 * The divines of the Protestant Episcopal Church of the 
 United States commonly call other denominations Dissent' 
 ers , though there never was an established church in their 
 own country ! 
 
80 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 « I’m sure I never was so great a fool as to ex- 
 pect to live forever,” said Natty, giving one of his 
 silent laughs ; “ no man need do that, who trails 
 the savages through the woods, as 1 have done, 
 and lives, for the hot months, on the lake streams. 
 I’ve a strong constitution, I must say that for my- 
 self, as is plain to be seen ; for I’ve drunk the 
 Onondaga water a hundred times, while I’ve been 
 watching the deer-licks, when the fever-an-agy 
 seeds was to be seen in it as plain and as plenty as 
 you can see the rattlesnakes on old Crumhom. 
 But then, I never expected to hold out forever ; 
 though there’s them living who have seen the 
 Garman flats a wilderness ; ay ! and them that’s 
 larned, and acquainted with religion, too ; though 
 you might look a week, now, and not find even 
 the stump of a pine on them ; and that’s a wood 
 that lasts in the ground the better part of a hun- 
 dred years after the tree is dead.” 
 
 “ This is but time, my good friend,” returned 
 Mr. Grant, who began to take an interest in the 
 welfare of his new acquaintance, “ but I would 
 have you prepare for eternity. It is incumbent 
 on you to attend places of public worship, as I am 
 pleased to see that you have done this evening. 
 Would it not be heedless in you to start on a 
 day’s toil of hard hunting, and leave your ramrod 
 and flint behind ? ” 
 
 “ It must be a young hand in the woods,” in- 
 terrupted Natty, with another laugh, “that didn’t 
 know how to dress a rod out of an ash sapling or 
 find a fire-stone in the mountains. No, no, I 
 never expected to live for ever ; but I see, times 
 be altering in these mountains from what they 
 was thirty years ago, or, for that matter, ten years. 
 But might makes right, and the law is stronger 
 than an old man, whether he is one that has much 
 laming, or only one like me, that is better now at 
 standing at the passes than in following the hounds, 
 as I once used to could. Heigh-ho ! I never 
 know’d preaching come into a settlement but it 
 made game scarce, and raised the price of gun- 
 powder ; and that’s a thing that’s not as easily 
 made as a ramrod or an Indian flint.” 
 
 The divine, perceiving that he had given his 
 opponent an argument by his own unfortunate 
 selection of a comparison, very prudently relin- 
 quished the controversy ; although he was fully 
 determined to resume it at a more happy moment. 
 Repeating his request to the young hunter, with 
 great earnestness, the youth and Indian con- 
 sented to accompany him and his daughter to the 
 dwelling that the care of M r. Jones had provided 
 for their temporary residence. Leather-stocking 
 persevered in his intention of returning to the hut, 
 and at the door of the building they separated. 
 
 After following the course of one of the streets 
 of the village a short distance, Mr. Grant, who led 
 the way, turned into a field, through a pair of 
 open bars, and entered a footpath, of but sufficient 
 width to admit one person to walk in it at a time. 
 The moon had gained a height that enabled her 
 to throw her rays perpendicularly on the valley ; 
 and the distinct shadows of the party flitted along 
 on the banks of the silver snow, like the presence 
 of aerial figures, gliding to their appointed place 
 of meeting. The night still continued intensely 
 cold, although not a breath of wind was felt. The 
 path was beaten so hard, that the gentle female, 
 who made one of the party, moved with ease along 
 its windings ; though the frost emitted a low creak- 
 ing at the impression of even her light footsteps. 
 
 The clergyman in his dark dress of broadcloth, 
 with his mild, benevolent countenance occasion- 
 ally turned toward his companions, expressing 
 that look of subdued care which was its charac- 
 teristic, presented the first object in this singular 
 group. Next to him moved the Indian, his hair 
 falling about his face, his head uncovered, and 
 the rest of his form concealed beneath his blanket* 
 As his swarthy visage, with its muscles fixed in 
 rigid composure, was seen under the light of tho 
 moon, which struck his face obliquely, he seemed 
 a picture of resigned old age, on whom the storms 
 of winter had beaten in vain for the greater part 
 of a century ; but when, in turning his head, the 
 rays fell directly on his dark, fiery eyes, they told 
 a tale of passions unrestrained, and of thoughts 
 free as air. The slight person of Miss Grant, 
 which followed next, and which was but too thinly 
 clad for the severity of the season, formed a 
 marked contrast to the wild attire and uneasy 
 glances of the Delaware chief; and more than 
 once during their walk, the young hunter, him- 
 self no insignificant figure in the group, v/as led 
 to consider the difference in the human form, as 
 the face of Mohegan, and the gentle countenance 
 of Miss Grant, with eyes that rivalled the soft hue 
 of the sky, met his view at the instapt that each 
 turned to throw a glance at the splendid orb 
 which lighted their path. Their way, which led 
 through fields that lay at some distance in the 
 rear of the houses, was cheered by a conversation 
 that flagged or became animated with the subject. 
 The first to speak was the divine. 
 
 “ Really,” he said, “ it is so singular a circum- 
 stance to meet with one of your age, that has not 
 been induced by idle curiosity to visit any other 
 church than the one in which-he has been educat- 
 ed, that I feel a strong curiosity to know the his- 
 tory of a life so fortunately regulated. Your ed- 
 ucation must have been excellent ; as indeed if 
 
MISS GRANT AND THE HUNTER. 
 
 61 
 
 evident from your manners and language. Of 
 which of the States are you a native, Mr. Ed- 
 wards ? for such, I believe, was the name that 
 you gave Judge Temple.” 
 
 “ Of this.” 
 
 “ Of this ! I was at a loss to conjecture, from 
 your dialect, which does not partake, particularly, 
 of the peculiarities of any country with which I 
 am acquainted. You have, then, resided much in 
 the cities, for no other part of this country is so 
 fortunate as to possess the constant enjoyment of 
 our excellent liturgy.” 
 
 The young hunter smiled, as he listened to 
 the divine while he so clearly betrayed from what 
 part of the country he had come himself ; but, for 
 reasons probably connected with his present sit- 
 uation, he made no answer. 
 
 “ I am delighted to meet with you, my young 
 friend, for I think an ingenuous mind, such as I doubt 
 not yours must be, will exhibit all the advantages 
 of a settled doctrine and devout liturgy. You per- 
 ceive how I was compelled to bend to the humors of 
 my hearers this evening. Good Mr. Jones wished 
 me to read the communion, and, in fact, all the 
 morning service ; but, happily, the canons do not 
 require this of an evening. It would have wea- 
 ried a new congregation : but to-morrow I pur- 
 pose administering the sacrament. Do you com- 
 mune, my young friend ? ” 
 
 “I believe not, sir,” returned the youth, 
 with a little embarrassment, that was not at all 
 diminished by Miss Grant’s pausing involuntarily, 
 and turning her eyes on him in surprise — “ I fear 
 that I am hot qualified ; I have never yet ap- 
 proached the altar ; neither would I wish to do 
 it, while I find so much of the world clinging to 
 my heart.” 
 
 “Each must judge for himself,” said Mr. 
 Grant ; “ though I should think that a youth who 
 had never been blown about by the wind of false 
 doctrines, and who has enjoyed the advantages 
 of our liturgy for so many years in its purity, 
 might safely come. Yet, sir, it is a solemn festi- 
 val, which none should celebrate until there is 
 reason to hope it is not mockery. I observed 
 this evening, in your manner to Judge Temple, a 
 resentment that bordered on one of the worst of 
 human passions. — We will cross this brook on 
 the ice : it must bear us all, I think, in safety. — 
 Be careful not to slip, my child.” While speak- 
 ing, he descended a little bank by the path, and 
 crossed one of the small streams that poured 
 their waters into the lake ; and, turning to see his 
 daughter pass, observed that the youth had ad- 
 vanced, and was kindly directing her footsteps. 
 When all were safely over, he moved up the op- 
 
 posite bank, and continued his discourse. — “It 
 was wrong, my dear sir, very wrong, to suffer 
 such feelings to rise, under any circumstances, 
 and especially in the present, where the evil was 
 not intended.” 
 
 “ There is good in the talk of my father,” 
 said Mohegan, stopping short, and causing those 
 who were behind him to pause also ; “ it is the 
 talk of Miquon. The white man may do as his 
 fathers have told him ; but the ‘ Young Eagle ’ 
 has the blood of a Delaware chief in his veins : 
 it is red, and the stain it makes can only be 
 washed out with the blood of a Mingo.” 
 
 Mr. Grant was surprised by the interruption 
 of the Indian, and, stopping, faced the speaker. 
 His mild features were confronted to the fierce 
 and determined looks of the chief, and expressed 
 the horror he felt at hearing such sentiments from 
 one who professed the religion of his Saviour. 
 Raising his hands to a level with his head, he ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 “ John, John ! is this the religion that you 
 have learned from the Moravians? But no — I 
 will not be so uncharitable as to suppose it. 
 They are a pious, a gentle, and a mild people, and 
 could never tolerate these passions. Listen to 
 the language of the Redeemer — ‘ But I say unto 
 you, love your enemies ; bless them that curse 
 you ; do good to them that hate you ; pray for 
 them that despitefully use you and persecute you.* 
 — This is the command of God, John, and, with- 
 out striving to cultivate such feelings, no man 
 can see him.” 
 
 The Indian heard the divine with attention ; 
 the unusual fire of his eye gradually softened, and 
 his muscles relaxed into their ordinary composure ; 
 but, slightly shaking his head, he motioned with 
 dignity for Mr. Grant to resume his walk, and fol- 
 lowed himself in silence. The agitation of the 
 divine caused him to move with unusual rapidity 
 along the deep path, and the Indian, without any 
 apparent exertion, kept an equal pace ; but the 
 young hunter observed the female to linger in 
 her steps, until a trifling distance intervened be- 
 tween the two former and the latter. Struck by 
 the circumstance, and not perceiving any new 
 impediment to retard her footsteps, the youth 
 made a tender of his assistance. 
 
 “ You are fatigued, Miss Grant,” he said ; 
 “ the snow yields to the foot, and you are une- 
 qual to the strides of us men. Step on the crust, 
 I entreat you, and take the help of my arm. Yon- 
 der light is, I believe, the house of your father ; 
 but it seems yet at some distance.” 
 
 “ I am quite equal to the walk,” returned a 
 low tremulous voice ; “ but I am startled by the 
 
62 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 manner of that Indian. Oh ! his eye was horrid, 
 as he turned to the moon, in speaking to my fa- 
 ther. But I forget, sir ; he is your friend, and 
 by his language may be your relative; and yet 
 of you I do not feel afraid.” 
 
 The young man stepped on the bank of snow, 
 which firmly sustained his weight, and by a gen- 
 tle effort induced his companion to follow. Draw- 
 ing her arm through his own, he lifted his cap 
 from hi3 head, allowing the dark locks to flow in 
 rich curls over his open brow, and walked by her 
 side with an air of conscious pride, as if inviting 
 an examination of his inmost thoughts. Louisa 
 took but a furtive glance at his person, and moved 
 quietly along, at a rate that was greatly quick- 
 ened by the aid of his arm. 
 
 “ You are but little acquainted with this pecul- 
 iar people, Miss Grant,” he said, “ or you would 
 know that revenge is a virtue with an Indian. They 
 are taught, from infancy upward, to believe it a 
 duty never to allow an injury to pass unrevenged; 
 and nothing but the stronger claims of hospital- 
 ity can guard one against their resentments, 
 where they have power.” 
 
 “ Surely, sir,” said Miss Grant, involuntarily 
 withdrawing her arm from his, “ you have not 
 been educated with such unholy sentiments.” 
 
 “ It might be a sufficient answer to your ex- 
 cellent father, to say that I was educated in 
 the church,” he returned ; “ but to you I will add, 
 that I have been taught deep and practical lessons 
 of forgiveness. I believe that, on this subject, I 
 have but little cause to reproach myself ; it shall 
 be my endeavor that there yet be less.” 
 
 While speaking, he stopped, and stood with 
 his arm again proffered to her assistance. As he 
 ended, she quietly accepted his offer, and they 
 resumed their walk. 
 
 Mr. Grant and Mohegan had reached the door of 
 the former’s residence, and stood waiting near its 
 threshold for the arrival of their young compan- 
 ions. The former was earnestly occupied in en- 
 deavoring to correct, by his precepts, the evil 
 propensities that he had discovered in the Indian 
 during their conversation ; to which the latter 
 listened in profound but respectful attention. On 
 the arrival of the young hunter and the lady, they 
 entered the building. The house stood at some 
 distance from the village, in the centre of a field, 
 surrounded by stumps that were peering above 
 the snow, bearing caps of pure white, nearly two 
 feet in thickness. Not a tree nor a shrub was 
 nigh it ; but the house, externally, exhibited that 
 cheerless, unfinished aspect which is so common 
 to the hastily-erected dwellings of a new country. 
 The uninviting character of its outside was, how- 
 
 ever, happily relieved by the exquisite neatnesi 
 and comfortable warmth within. 
 
 They entered an apartment that was fitted as 
 a parlor, though the large fireplace, with its culi- 
 nary arrangements, betrayed the domestic uses to 
 which it was occasionally applied. The bright 
 blaze from the hearth rendered the light that pro- 
 ceeded from the candle Louisa produced, unneces- 
 sary ; for the scanty furniture of the room was 
 easily seen and examined by the former. The 
 floor was covered in the centre by a carpet made 
 of rags, a species of manufacture that was then, 
 and yet continues to be, much in use in the in- 
 terior; while its edges, that were exposed to 
 view, were of unspotted cleanliness. There was 
 a trifling air of better life in a tea-table and work- 
 stand, as well as in an old-fashioned mahogany 
 bookcase ; but the chairs, the dining-table, and 
 the rest of the furniture, were of the plainest and 
 cheapest construction. Against the walls were 
 hung a few specimens of needle-work and draw- 
 ing, the former executed with great neatness, 
 though of somewhat equivocal merit in their de- 
 signs, while the latter were strikingly deficient in 
 both. 
 
 One of the former represented a tomb, with a 
 youthful female weeping over it, exhibiting a 
 church with arched windows in the background. 
 On the tomb were the names, with the dates of 
 the births and deaths, of several individuals, all 
 of whom bore the name of Grant. An extremely 
 cursory glance at this record was sufficient to dis- 
 cover to the young hunter the domestic state of 
 the divine. He there read that he was a widow- 
 er ; and that the innocent and timid maiden, who 
 had been his companion, was the only survivor 
 of six children. The knowledge of the depend- 
 ence which each of these meek Christians had 
 on the other, for happiness, threw an additional 
 charm around the gentle, but kind attentions 
 which the daughter paid to the father. 
 
 These observations occurred while the party 
 were seating themselves before the cheerful fire, 
 during which time there was a suspension of dis- 
 course. But, when each was comfortably ar- 
 ranged, and Louisa, after laying aside a thin coat 
 of faded silk, and a gipsy hat, that was more be- 
 coming to her modest, ingenuous countenance 
 than appropriate to tin season, had taken a chair 
 between her father and he youth, the former re- 
 sumed the conversation. 
 
 “ I trust, my young friend,” he said, “ that 
 the education you have received has eradicated 
 most of those revengeful principles which you 
 may have inherited by descent, for I understand 
 from the expressions of John, that you have somi 
 
THE DUTY OF FORGIVENESS. 
 
 63 
 
 of the blood of the Delaware tribe. Do not mis- 
 take me, I beg, for it is not dolor, nor lineage, 
 that constitutes merit ; and I know not that he 
 who claims affinity to the proper owners of this 
 soil has not the best right to tread these hills 
 with the lightest conscience.” 
 
 Mohegan turned solemnly to the speaker, and, 
 with the peculiarly significant gestures of an In- 
 dian, he spoke : 
 
 “ Father, you are not yet past the summer of 
 life ; your limbs are young. Go to the highest 
 hill, and look around you. All that you see, from 
 the rising to the setting sun, from the head wa- 
 ters of the great spring to where the ‘ crooked 
 river ’ * is hid by the hills, is his. He has Dela- 
 ware blood, and his right is strong. But the 
 brother of Miquon is just : he will cut the coun- 
 try in two parts, as the river cuts the lowlands, 
 and will say to the ‘Young Eagle,’ Child of the 
 Delawares ! take it — keep it — and be a chief in 
 the land of your fathers.” 
 
 “ Never ! ” exclaimed the young hunter, with 
 a vehemence that destroyed the rapt attention 
 with which the divine and his daughter were lis- 
 tening to the Indian. “ The wolf of the forest is 
 not more rapacious for his prey than that man is 
 greedy of gold ; and yet his glidings into wealth 
 are subtle as the movements of a serpent.” 
 
 “ Forbear, forbear, my son, forbear,” interrupt- 
 ed Mr. Grant. “ These angry passions must be sub- 
 dued. The accidental injury you have received 
 from Judge Temple has heightened the sense of 
 your hereditary wrongs. But remember that the 
 one was unintentional, and that the other is the 
 effect of political changes, which have, in their 
 course, greatly lowered the pride of kings, and 
 swept mighty nations from the face of the earth. 
 Where now are the Philistines, who so often held 
 the children of Israel in bondage ? or that city of 
 Babylon, which rioted in luxury and vice, and 
 who styled herself the Queen of Nations in the 
 drunkenness of hen pride ? Remember the prayer 
 of our holy litany, where we implore the Divine 
 Power—* that it may please thee to forgive our 
 enemies, persecutors, and slanderers, and to turn 
 their hearts.’ The sin of the wrongs which have 
 been done to the natives is shared by Judge Tem- 
 ple only in common with a whole people, and your 
 arm will speedily be restored to its strength.” 
 
 “ This arm ! ” repeated the youth, pacing the 
 floor in violent agitation. “ Think you, sir, that 
 I believe the man a murderer ? — Oh, no ] he is 
 too wily, too cowardly, for such a crime. But let 
 
 * The Susquehannah means crooked river ; “ hannah,” 
 ®r “bannock,” meant river in many of the native dialects. 
 Thus we find Rappahannock, as far south as Virginia. 
 
 him and his daughter riot in their wealth — a day 
 of retribution will come. No, no, no,” he con- 
 tinued, as he trod the floor more calmly — “ it is 
 for Mohegan to suspect him of an intent to injure 
 me : but the trifle is not worth a second thought.” 
 
 He seated himself, and hid his face between 
 his hands, as they rested on his knees. 
 
 “ It is the hereditary violence of a native’s 
 passion, my child,” said Mr. Grant in a low tone 
 to his affrighted daughter, who was clinging in 
 terror to his arm. “ He is mixed with the blood 
 of the Indians, you have heard ; and neither the 
 refinements of education, nor the advantages of 
 our excellent liturgy, have been able entirely to 
 eradicate the evil. But care and time will do 
 much for him yet.” 
 
 Although the divine spoke in a low tone, yet 
 what he uttered was heard by the youth, who 
 raised his head, with a smile of indefinite expres- 
 sion, and spoke more calmly. 
 
 “Be not alarmed, Miss Grant, at either the 
 wildness of my manner or that of my dress. I 
 have been carried away by passions that I should 
 struggle to repress. I must attribute it, with your 
 father, to the blood in my veins, although I would 
 not impeach my lineage willingly ; for it is all 
 that is left me to boast of. Yes ! Iam proud 
 of my descent from a Delaware chief, who was a 
 warrior that ennobled human nature. Old Mohe- 
 gan was his friend, and will vouch for his vir- 
 tues.” 
 
 Mr. Grant here took up the discourse, and, 
 finding the young man more calm, and the aged 
 chief attentive, he entered into a full and theo- 
 logical discussion of the duty of forgiveness. The 
 conversation lasted for more than an hour, when 
 the visitors arose, and, after exchanging good 
 wishes with their entertainers, they departed. 
 At the door they separated, Mohegan taking the 
 direct route to the village, while the youth moved 
 toward the lake. The divine stood at the entrance 
 of his dwelling, regarding the figure of the aged 
 chief as it glided, at an astonishing gait for his 
 years, along the deep path ; his black, straight, 
 hair just visible over the bundle formed by his 
 blanket, which was sometimes blended with the 
 snow, under the silvery light of the moon. From 
 the rear of the house was a window that over 
 looked the lake ; and here Louisa was found by 
 her father, when he entjred, gazing intently on 
 some object in the direction of the eastern moun- 
 tain. He approached the spot, and saw the figure 
 of the young hunter, at the distance of half a mile, 
 walking with prodigious steps across the wide 
 fields of frozen snow that covered tho ice, toward 
 the point where he knew the hut inhabited by 
 
64 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 the Leather-stocking was situated on the margin 
 of the lake, under a rock that was crowned by 
 pines and hemlocks. At the next instant, the 
 wildly-looking form entered the shadow cast from 
 the overhanging trees, and was lost to view. 
 
 “ It is marvellous how long the propensities 
 of the savage continue in that remarkable race,” 
 said the good divine ; “but if he persevere as he 
 has commenced, his triumph shall yet be com- 
 plete. Put me in mind, Louisa, to lend him the 
 homily ‘ against peril of idolatry,’ at his next 
 visit.” 
 
 “ Surely, father, you do not think him in dan- 
 ger of relapsing into the worship of his ances- 
 tors ! ” 
 
 “ No, my child,” returned the clergyman, lay- 
 ing his hand, affectionately on her flaxen locks, 
 and smiling ; “ his white blood would prevent it ; 
 but there is such a thing as the idolatry of our 
 passions.” 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. ^ 
 
 “ And I’ll drink out of the quart pot— 
 
 Here’s a health to the barley mow.” 
 
 Deinkino Sono. 
 
 On one of the corners, where the two prin- 
 cipal streets of Templeton intersected each other, 
 stood, as we have already mentioned, the inn 
 called the “Bold Dragoon.” In the original 
 plan, it was ordained that the village should 
 stretch along the little stream that rushed down 
 the valley; and the street which led from the 
 lake to the academy was intended to be its west- 
 ern boundary. But convenience frequently frus- 
 trates the best regulated plans. The house of 
 Mr., or as, in consequence of commanding the 
 militia of that vicinity, he was called, Captain 
 Hollister, had, at an early day, been erected 
 directly facing the main street, and ostensibly 
 interposed a barrier to its further progress. 
 Horsemen, and subsequently teamsters, however, 
 availed themselves of an opening, at the end of 
 the building, to shorten their passage westward, 
 until, in time, the regular highway was laid out 
 along this course, and houses were gradually built 
 on either side, so as effectually to prevent any 
 subsequent correction of the evil. 
 
 Two material consequences followed this 
 change in the regular plans of Marmaduke. The 
 main street, after running about .half its length, 
 was suddenly reduced to precisely that difference 
 In its width; and the “Bold Dragoon” became, 
 next to the mansion-house, by far the most con. 
 spicuous edifice in the place. 
 
 This conspicuousness, aided by the characters 
 of the host and hostess, gave the tavern an advan- 
 tage over all its future competitors, that no cir- 
 cumstances could conquer. An effort was, how. 
 ever, made to do so ; and at the corner, diagonally 
 opposite, stood a new building that was intended, 
 by its occupants, to look down all opposition. 
 
 It was a house of wood, ornamented in the pre- 
 vailing style of architecture, and about the roof 
 and balustrades was one of the three imitators 
 of the mansion-house. The upper windows were 
 filled with rough boards secured by nails, to keep 
 out the cold air — for the edifice was far from 
 finished, although glass was to be seen in the 
 lower apartments, and the light of the powerful 
 fires within denoted that it was already inhabited. 
 The exterior was painted white on the front, and 
 on the end which was exposed to the street ; but 
 in the rear, and on the side which was intended 
 to join the neighboring house, it was coarsely , 
 smeared with Spanish brown. Before the door 
 stood two lofty posts, connected at the top by a 
 beam, from which was suspended an enormous j 
 sign, ornamented around its edges with certain 
 curious carvings in pine boards, and on its faces 
 loaded with masonic emblems. Over these mys- 
 terious figures was written, in large letters, “ The 
 Templeton Coffee-house, and Traveller’s Hotel,” 
 and beneath them, “ By Habakkuk Foote and 
 Joshua Knapp.” This was a fearful rival to the 
 “ Bold Dragoon,” as our readers will the more 
 readily perceive, when we add that the same 
 sonorous names were to be seen over the door of 
 a newly-erected store in the village, a hatter’s 
 shop, and the gates of a tan-yard. But, either 
 because too much was attempted to be executed 
 well, or that the “ Bold Dragoon ” had established 
 a reputation which could not be easily shaken, 
 not only Judge Temple and his friends, but most 
 of the villagers also, who were not in debt to the 
 powerful firm we have named, frequented the inn 
 of Captain Hollister, on all occasions where such 
 a house was necessary. 
 
 On the present evening the limping veteran 
 and his consort were hardly housed after theu 
 return from the academy, when the sounds ol 
 stamping feet at their threshold announced tht 
 approach of visitors, who were probably assem- 
 bling with a view to compare opinions' on the 
 subject of the ceremonies they had witnessed. 
 
 The public, or as it was called, the “ bar- 
 room,” of the “ Bold Dragoon,” was a spacious 
 apartment, lined on three sides with benches, and 
 on the fourth by fire-places. Of the latter there 
 were two of such size as to occupy, with their 
 enormous jambs, the whole of that side of tb* 
 
SERGEANT HOLLISTER AND HIS WIFE. 
 
 65 
 
 apartment wherO they were placed, excepting 
 room enough for a door or two, and a little apart- 
 ment m one corner, which was protected by minia- 
 ture palisadoes, and profusely garnished with 
 bottles and glasses. In the entrance to this sanc- 
 tuary, Mrs. Hollister was seated, with great 
 gravity in her air, while her husband occupied 
 himself with stirring the fires, moving the logs 
 with a large stake burnt to a point at one end. 
 
 “There, sargeant, dear,” said the landlady, 
 after she thought the veteran had got the logs 
 arranged in the most judicious manner, “give 
 over poking, for it’s no good ye’ll be doing, now 
 that they burn so convaniently. There’s the 
 glasses on the table there, and the mug that the 
 doctor was taking his cider and ginger in, before 
 the fire here — -just put them in the bar, will ye ? 
 for we’ll be having the Jooge, and the major, and 
 Mr. Jones down the night, without reckoning 
 Benjamin Poomp, and the lawyers : so ye’ll be 
 fixing the room tidy ; and put both flip irons in 
 the coals ; and tell Jude, the lazy black baste, 
 that if she’s no be claneing up the kitchen I’ll 
 turn her out of the house, and she may live wid 
 the jontlemen that kape the ‘ Coffee-house,’ good 
 luck to ’em. Och ! sargeant, sure it’s a great 
 privilege to go to a mateing where a body can sit 
 asy, without joomping up and down so often, as 
 this Mr. Grant is doing that same.” 
 
 “ It’s a privilege at all times, Mrs. Hollister, 
 whether we stand or be seated ; or, as good Mr. 
 Whitefield used to do after he had made a weari- 
 some day’s march, get on our knees and pray, 
 like Moses of old, with a flanker to the right and 
 left, to lift his hands to heaven,” returned her 
 husband, who composedly performed what she 
 had directed to be done. “ It was a very pretty 
 fight, Betty, that the Israelites had on that day 
 with the Amalekites. It seems that they fout on 
 a plain, for Moses is mentioned as having gone on 
 to the heights to overlook the battle, and wrestle 
 in prayer; and if I should judge, with my little 
 laming, the Israelites depended mainly on their 
 horse, for it was written that Joshua cut up the 
 enemy with the edge of the sword ; from which I 
 infer, not only that they were horse, but well-dis- 
 ciplyn’d troops. Indeed, it says as much as that 
 they were chosen men; quite likely volunteers; 
 for raw dragoons seldom strike with the edge of 
 their swords, particularly if the weapon be any 
 way crooked.” 
 
 “ Pshaw ! why do ye bother yourself wid 
 taxts, man, about so small a matter,” interrupted 
 the landlady; “sure, it was the Lord who was 
 with ’em ; for he always sided wid the Jews, be- 
 fore they fell away ; and it’s but little matter 
 44 
 
 what kind of men Joshua commanded, so that he 
 was doing the right bidding. Aven them cursed 
 millaishy, the Lord forgive me for swearing, that 
 was the death of him, wid their cowardice, would 
 have carried the day in old times. There’s no 
 rason to be thinking that the soldiers were used 
 to the drill.” 
 
 “ I must say, Mrs. Hollister, that I have not 
 often seen raw troops fight better than the left 
 flank of the militia, at the time you mention. 
 They rallied handsomely, and that without beat 
 of drum, which is no easy thing to do under fire, 
 and were very steady till he fell. But the Scrip- 
 tures contain no unnecessary words ; and I will 
 maintain that horse, who know how to strike 
 with the edge of the sword, must be well disci- 
 plyn’d. Many a good sarmon has been preached 
 about smaller matters than that one word ! If 
 the text was not meant to be particular, why 
 wasn’t it written with the sword, and not with 
 the edge ? Now, a back-handed stroke, on the 
 edge, takes long practice. Goodness ! what an 
 argument would Mr. Whitefield make of that 
 word edge ! As to the captain, if he had only 
 called up the guard of dragoons when he rallied 
 the foot, they would have shown the inimy what 
 the edge of a sword was ; for, although there was 
 no commissioned officer with them, yet I think I 
 may say,” the veteran continued, stiffening his 
 cravat about his throat, and raising himself up, 
 with the air of a drill-sergeant, “ they were led 
 by a man who know’d how to bring them on, in 
 spite of the ravine.” 
 
 “Is it lade on ye would,” cried the landlady, 
 “ when ye know yourself, Mr. Hollister, that the 
 baste he rode was but little able to joomp from 
 one rock to another, and the animal was as spry 
 as a squirrel ? Och ! but it’s useless to talk, for 
 he’s gone this many a year. I would that he had 
 lived to see the true light ; but there’s mercy for 
 a brave sowl, that died in the saddle, fighting for 
 the liberty. It is a poor tombstone they have 
 given him, any way, and many a good one that 
 died like himself ; but the sign is very like, and 
 I will be kapeing it up, while the blacksmith can 
 make a hook for it to swing on, for all the ‘ coffee- 
 houses ’ betwane this and Albany.” 
 
 There is no saying where this desultory con- 
 versation would have led the worthy couple, had 
 not the men, who were stamping the snow off 
 their feet, on the little platform before the door, 
 suddenly ceased their occupation, and entered 
 the bar-room. 
 
 For ten or fifteen minutes, the different indi- 
 viduals, who intended either to bestow or receive 
 edification, before the fires of the “ Bold Dragoon,” 
 
66 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 on that evening, were collecting, until the benches 
 were nearly filled with men of different occupa- 
 tions. Dr. Todd and a slovenly-looking, shabby- 
 genteel young man, who took tobacco profusely, 
 wore a coat of imported cloth, cut with some- 
 thing like a fashionable air, frequently exhibited 
 a large French silver watch, with a chain of woven 
 hair and a silver key, and who, altogether, seemed 
 as much above the artisans around him as he was 
 himself inferior to the real gentleman, occupied 
 a high-back wooden settee, in the most comfort- 
 able corner in the apartment. 
 
 Sundry brown mugs, containing cider or beer, 
 were placed between the heavy andirons, and 
 little groups were formed among the guests, as 
 subjects arose, or the liquor was passed from one 
 to the other. No man was seen to drink by him- 
 self, nor in any instance was more than one vessel 
 considered necessary for the same beverage ; but 
 the glass, or the mug, was passed from hand to hand, 
 until a chasm in the line, or a regard to the rights 
 of ownership, would regularly restore the dregs 
 of the potation to him who defrayed the cost. 
 
 Toasts were uniformly drunk ; and, occasion- 
 ally, some one, who conceived himself peculiarly 
 endowed by Nature to shine in the way of wit, 
 would attempt some such sentiment as “ hoping 
 that he ” who treated, “ might make a better man 
 than his father ; ” or, “ live till all his friends wished 
 him dead ; ” while the more humble pot-compan- 
 ion contented himself by saying, with a most im- 
 posing gravity in his air, “ come, here’s luck,” or 
 by expressing some other equally comprehensive 
 desire. In every instance, the veteran landlord was 
 requested to imitate the custom of the cupbearers 
 to kings, and taste the liquor he presented, by the 
 invitation of “ after you is manners,” with which 
 request he ordinarily complied, by wetting his 
 lips, first expressing the wish of “ here’s hoping,” 
 leaving it to the imagination of the hearers to fill 
 the vacuum by whatever good each thought most 
 desirable. During these movements, the landlady 
 was busily occupied with mixing the various com- 
 pounds required by her customers, with her own 
 hands, and occasionally exchanging greetings and 
 inquiries concerning the conditions of their re- 
 spective families, with such of the villagers as ap- 
 proached the bar. 
 
 At length the common thirst being in some 
 measure assuaged, conversation of a more general 
 nature became the order of the hour. The phy- 
 sician, and his companion, who was one of the 
 two lawyers of the village, being considered the 
 best qualified to maintain a public discourse with 
 credit, were the principal speakers, though a re- 
 mark was hazarded, now and then, by Mr. Doo- 
 
 little, who was thought to be their inferior only in 
 the enviable point of education. A general si- 
 lence was produced on all but the two speakers, 
 by the following observation from the practitioner 
 of the law : 
 
 “So, Dr. Todd, I understand that you have 
 been performing an important operation, this even- 
 ing, by cutting a charge of buckshot from the 
 shoulder of the son of Leather-stocking ? ” 
 
 “Yes, sir,” returned the other, elevating hia 
 little head with an air of importance. “ I had a 
 small job up at the Judge’s in that way ; it was, 
 however, but a trifle to what it might have been, 
 had it gone through the body. The shoulder is 
 not a very vital part ; and I think the young man 
 will soon be well. But I did not know that the 
 patient was a son of Leather-stocking : it is news 
 to me to hear that Natty had a wife.” 
 
 “ It is by no means a necessary consequence,” 
 returned the other, winking, with a shrewd look 
 around the bar-room “there is such a thing, I 
 suppose you know, in law, as a Jilius nullius .” 
 
 “ Spake it out, man,” exclaimed the landlady ; 
 “ spake it out in king’s English ; what for should 
 ye be talking Indian in a room full of Christian 
 folks, though it is about a poor hunter, who is but 
 little better in his ways than the wild savages 
 themselves ? Och ! it’s to be hoped that the mis- 
 sionaries will, in his own time, make a convarsion 
 of the poor divils ; and then it will matter little 
 of what color is the skin, or wedder there be wool 
 or hair on the head.” 
 
 “ Oh ! it is Latin, not Indian, Miss Hollister,” 
 returned the lawyer, repeating his winks and 
 shrewd looks ; “ and Dr. Todd understands Latin, 
 or how would he read the labels on his gallipots 
 and drawers ? No, no, Miss Hollister, the doctor 
 understands me ; don’t you, doctor ? ” 
 
 “ Hemr— -why I guess I am not far out of the 
 way,” returned Elnathan, endeavoring to imitate 
 the expression of the other’s countenance, by 
 looking jocular. “Latin is a queer language, 
 gentlemen ; now I rather guess there is no one in 
 the room except Squire Lippet, who can believe 
 that ‘ Far. Av.’ means oatmeal, in English.” 
 
 The lawyer in his turn was a good deal em- 
 barrassed by this display of learning ; for, al- 
 though he actually had taken his first degree at 
 one of the eastern universities, he was somewhat 
 puzzled with the terms used by his companion. 
 It was dangerous, however, to appear to be out- 
 done in learning in a public bar-room, and beforo 
 so many of his clients ; he therefore put the best 
 face on the matter, and laughed knowingly, as if 
 there were a good joke concealed under it, that 
 was understood onlv by the physician and himself 
 
THE LAWYER’S PROPOSITION. 
 
 67 
 
 aU this was attentively observed by the listeners, 
 who exchanged looks of approbation ; and the ex- 
 pressions of “ tonguey man,” and “ I guess Squire 
 Lippet knows, if anybody doos,” were heard in 
 different parts of the room, as vouchers for the 
 admiration of his auditors. Thus encouraged, 
 the lawyer rose from his chair, and turning his 
 back to the fire, and facing the company, he con- 
 tinued : 
 
 “ The son of Natty, or the son of nobody, I 
 hope the young man is not going to let the mat- 
 ter drop. This is a country of laws ; and I should 
 like to see it fairly tried, whether a man who 
 owns, or says he owns, a hundred thousand acres 
 of land, has any more right to shoot a body than 
 another. What do you think of it, Dr. Todd ? ” 
 
 “ Oh ! sir, I am of opinion that the gentleman 
 will soon be well, as I said before ; the wound 
 isn’t in a vital part ; and as the ball was extract- 
 ed so soon, and the shoulder was what I call well 
 attended to, I do not think there is as much dan- 
 ger as there might have been.” 
 
 “ I say, Squire Doolittle,” continued the attor- 
 ney, raising his voice, “ you are a magistrate, and 
 know what is law, and what is not law. I ask 
 you, sir, if shooting a man is a thing that is to be 
 settled so very easily? Suppose, sir, that the 
 young man had a wife and family ; and suppose 
 that he was a mechanic like yourself, sir ; and 
 suppose that his family depended on him for 
 bread ; and suppose that the ball, instead of mere- 
 ly going through the flesh, had broken the shoul- 
 der-blade, and crippled him forever ; I ask you 
 all, gentlemen, supposing this to be the case, 
 whether a jury wouldn’t give what I call hand- 
 some damages ? ” 
 
 As the close of this supposititious case was 
 addressed to the company generally, Hiram did 
 not, at first, consider himself called on for a reply ; 
 but, finding the eyes of the listeners bent on him 
 in expectation, he remembered his character for 
 judicial discrimination, and spoke, observing a 
 due degree of deliberation and dignity. 
 
 “ Why, if a man should shoot another,” he 
 said, “ and if he should do it on purpose, and if 
 the law took notice on’t, and if a jury should find 
 him guilty, it would be likely to turn out a state- 
 prison matter.” 
 
 “It would so, sir,” returned the attorney. 
 “ The law, gentlemen, is no respecter of persons 
 in a free country. It is one of the great bless- 
 ings that has been handed down to us from our an- 
 cestors, that all men are equal in the eye of the 
 lawg, as they are by nater. Though some may get 
 property, no one knows how, yet they are not priv- 
 ileged to transgress the laws any more than the 
 
 poorest citizen in the State. This is roy notion, 
 gentlemen ; and I think that if a man had a mind 
 to bring this matter up, something might be made 
 out of it that would help pay for the salve — ha ! 
 doortor ? ” 
 
 “ Why, sir,” returned the physician, who ap- 
 peared a little uneasy at the turn the conversation 
 was taking, “ I have the promise of Judge Tem- 
 ple before men — not but what I would take his 
 word as soon as his note of hand — but it was be- 
 fore men. Let me see — there was Mounshier Ler 
 Quow, and Squire Jones, and Major Hartmann, 
 and Miss Pettibone, and one or two of the blacks 
 by, when he said that his pocket would amply 
 reward me for what I did.” 
 
 “ Was the promise made before or after the 
 service was performed ? ” asked the attorney. 
 
 “ It might have been both,” returned the dis- 
 creet physician ; “ though I’m certain he said 
 so before I undertook the dressing.” 
 
 “ But it seems that he said his pocket should 
 reward you, doctor,” observed Hiram. “ Now I 
 don’t know that the law will hold a man to such 
 a promise ; he might give you his pocket with 
 sixpence in’t, and tell you to take your pay out 
 on’t.” 
 
 “ That would not be a reward in the eye of 
 the law,” interrupted the attorney — “ not what is 
 called a ‘ quid pro quo ; ’ nor is the pocket to be 
 considered as an agent, but as part of a man’s 
 own person, that is, in this particular. I am of 
 opinion that an action would lie on that promise, 
 and I will undertake to bear him out, free of 
 costs, if he don’t recover.” 
 
 To this proposition the physician made no re- 
 ply ; but he was observed to cast his eyes around 
 him, as if to enumerate the witnesses, in order to 
 substantiate this promise also, at a future day, 
 should it prove necessary. A subject so momen- 
 tous as that of suing Judge Temple was not very 
 palatable to the present company in so public a 
 place ; and a short silence ensued, that was only 
 interrupted by the opening of the door, and tho 
 entrance of Natty himself. 
 
 The old hunter carried in his hand his never- 
 failing companion, the rifle ; and although all of 
 the company were uncovered excepting the law- 
 yer, who wore his hat on one side, with a certain 
 dam’me air, Natty moved to the front of one of 
 the fires, without in the least altering any part of 
 his dress or appearance. Several questions were 
 addressed to him, on the subject of the game he 
 had killed, which he answered readily, and with 
 some little interest ; and tho landlord, between 
 whom and Natty there existed much cordiality, 
 on account of their both having been soldiers in 
 
SB 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 youth, offered him a glass of a liquid* which, if 
 we might judge from its reception, was no unwel- 
 come guest. When the forester had got his po- 
 tation also, he quietly took his seat on the end 
 of one of the logs that lay nigh the fires, and 
 the slight interruption produced by his entrance 
 seemed to be forgotten. 
 
 “ The testimony of the blacks could not be 
 taken, sir,” continued the lawyer, “ for they are 
 all the property of Mr. Jones, who owns their 
 time. But there is a way by which Judge Tem- 
 ple, or any other man, might be made to pay for 
 shooting another, and for the cure in the bargain. 
 — There is a way, I say, and that without going 
 into the ‘ court of errors,’ too.” 
 
 “ And a mighty big error ye would make of 
 it, Mister Todd,” cried the landlady, “ should ye 
 be putting the matter into the law at all, with 
 Joodge Temple, who has a purse as long as one 
 of them pines on the hill, and who is an asy man 
 to dale wid, if yees but mind the humor of him. 
 He’s a good man is Joodge Temple, and a kind 
 one, and one who will be no the likelier to do the 
 pratty thing, becase ye would wish to tarrify him 
 wid the law. I know of but one objaction to 
 the same, which is an over-carelessness about 
 his sowl. It’s neither a Methodie, nor a Papish, 
 nor Prasbetyrian, that he is, but just nothing at 
 all ; and it’s hard to think that he, * who will not 
 fight the good fight, under the banners of a rig’- 
 lar church, in this world, will be mustered among 
 the chosen in heaven,’ as my husband, the cap- 
 tain there, as ye call him, says — though there is 
 but one captain that I know, who desaarves the 
 name. I hopes, Lather-stocking, ye’ll no be fool- 
 ish, and putting the boy up to try the law in the 
 matter ; for ’twill be an evil day to ye both, when 
 ye first turn the skin of so paceable an animal as 
 a sheep into a bone of contention. The lad is 
 wilcome to his drink for nothing, until his shoul- 
 ther will bear the rifle ag’in.” 
 
 “ Well that’s gin’rous,” was heard from sev- 
 eral mouths at once, for this was a company in 
 which a liberal offer was not thrown away ; while 
 the hunter, instead of expressing any of that in- 
 dignation which he might be supposed to feel, at 
 hearing the hurt of his young companion alluded 
 to, opened his mouth, with the silent laugh for 
 which he was so remarkable ; and after he had in- 
 dulged his humor, made this reply : 
 
 “ I know’d the Judge would do nothing with 
 his smooth-bore when he got out of his sleigh. I 
 never saw but one smooth-bore that would carry 
 at all, and that was a French ducking-piece, upon 
 the big lakes ; it bad a barret half as long ag’in 
 as my rifle, and would throw fine shot into a goose 
 
 at one hundred yards ; but it made dreadful work 
 with the game, and you wanted a boat to carry it 
 about in. When I went with Sir William ag’in 
 the French, at Fort Niagara, all the rangers used 
 the rifle; and a dreadful weapon it is, in the 
 hands of one who knows how to charge it, and 
 keep a steady aim. The captain knows, for he 
 says he was a soldier in Shirley’s ; and though 
 they were nothing but baggonet-man, he must 
 know how we cut up the French and Iroquois in 
 the skrimmages in that war. Chingachgook, which 
 means ‘ Big Sarpent ’ in English, old John Mohe- 
 gan, who lives up at the hut with me, was a great 
 , warrior then, and was out with us ; he can tell all 
 about it, too ; though he was overhand for the 
 tomahawk, never firing more than once or twice, 
 before he was running in for the scalps. Ah 1 
 times is dreadfully altered since then. Why, doc- 
 tor, there was nothing*but a footpath, or at the 
 most a track for pack-horses, along the Mohawk, 
 from the Jarman Flats up to the forts. Now, 
 they say, they talk of running one of them wide 
 roads with gates on it along the river ; first mak- 
 ing a road, and then fencing.it up ! I hunted one 
 season back of the Kaatskills, nigh-hand to the 
 settlements, and the dogs often lost the scent, 
 when they came to them highways, there was so 
 much travel on them ; though I can’t say that the 
 brutes was of a very good breed. Old Hector 
 will wind a deer, in the fall of the year, across 
 the broadest place in the Otsego, and that is a mile 
 and a half, for I paced it myself on the ice, when 
 the tract was first surveyed, under the Indian 
 grant.” 
 
 “ It sames to me, Natty, but a sorry compli- 
 ment, to call your comrad after the evil one,” said 
 the landlady ; “ and it’s no much like a snake 
 that old John is looking now. Nimrod would be 
 a more besameing name for the lad, and a more 
 Christian, too, seeing that it comes from the 
 Bible. The sargeant read me the chapter about 
 him, the night before my christening, and a 
 mighty asement it was, to listen to any thing from 
 the book.” 
 
 “Old John and Chingachgook were very 
 different men to look on,” returned the hunter, 
 shaking his head at his melancholy recollections. 
 — “ In the ‘ fifty-eighth war ’ he was in the middle 
 of manhood, and taller than now by three inches. 
 If you had seen him, as I did, the morning we 
 beat Dieskau, from behind our log walls, you 
 would have called him as comely a red-skin as ye 
 ever set eyes on. He was naked all to his breech- 
 cloth and leggins ; and you never seed a creater 
 so handsomely painted. One side of his face was 
 red, and the other black. His head was shaved 
 
THE SERMON CRITICISED. 
 
 69 
 
 •lean, all to a few hairs on the crown, where he 
 wore a tuft of eagle’s feathers, as bright as if they 
 had come from a peacock’s tail. He had colored 
 his sides so that they looked like an atomy, ribs 
 and all ; for Chipgachgook had a great taste in 
 such things; so that, what with his bold, fiery 
 countenance, his knife, and his tomahawk, I have 
 never seen a fiercer warrior on the ground. He 
 played his part, too, like a man ; for I saw him 
 next day, with thirteen scalps on his pole. And 
 I will say this for the ‘ Big Snake,’ that he always 
 dealt fair, and never scalped any that he didn’t 
 kill with his own hands.” 
 
 “Well, well,” cried the landlady; “fighting 
 is fighting, anyway, and there is different fashions 
 in the thing; though I can’t say that I relish 
 mangling a body after the breath is out of it; 
 neither do I think it can be uphild by doctrine. 
 I hope, sargeant, ye niver was helping in sich evil 
 worrek.” 
 
 “It was my duty to keep my ranks, and to 
 stand or fall by the baggonet or lead,” returned 
 the veteran. “ I was then in the fort, and seldom 
 leaving my place, saw but little of the savages, 
 who kept on the flanks or in front, skrimmaging. 
 
 I remember, howsomever, to have heard mention 
 made of the ‘ Great Snake,’ as he was called, for 
 he was a chief of renown ; but little did I ever 
 expect to see him enlisted in the cause of Chris- 
 tianity, and civilized like old John.” 
 
 “ Oh ! he was Christianized by the Moravians, 
 who were always over-intimate with the Dela- 
 wares,” said Leather-stocking. “ It’s my opinion 
 that, had they been left to themselves, there 
 would be no such doings now, about the head 
 waters of the two rivers, and that these hills 
 mought have been kept as good hunting-ground 
 by their right owner, who is not too old to carry 
 a rifle, and whose sight is as true as a fish-hawk 
 hovering — ” 
 
 He was interrupted by more stamping at the 
 door, and presently the party from the mansion- 
 house entered, followed by the Indian himself. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 “ There’s quart-pot, pint-pot, half-pint, 
 
 Gill-pot, half-gill, nipperkin, 
 
 And the brown bowl — 
 
 Here’s a health to the barley mow, 
 
 My brave boys, 
 
 Here’s a health to the barley mow.” 
 
 Drinking Song. 
 
 Some little commotion was produced by the 
 appearance of the new guests, during, which the 
 lawyer slunk from the room. Most of the men ap- 
 
 proached Marmaduke, and shook his offered hand, 
 hoping “ that the Judge was well ; ” while Major 
 Hartmann, having laid aside his hat and wig, and 
 substituted for the latter a warm, peaked, woollen 
 nightcap, took his seat very quietly on one end 
 of the settee, which was relinquished by its for- 
 mer occupant. His tobacco-box was next pro- 
 duced, and a clean pipe was handed him by the 
 landlord. When he had succeeded in raising a 
 smoke, the major gave a long whiff, and, turning 
 his head toward the bar, he said : 
 
 “ Petty, pring in ter toddy.” 
 
 In the mean time the Judge had exchanged 
 his salutations with most of the company, and 
 taken a place by the side of the major, and Rich, 
 ard had bustled himself into the most comfort- 
 able seat in the room. Mr. Le Quoi was the last 
 seated, nor did he venture to place his chair 
 finally, until by frequent removals he had ascer. 
 tained that he could not possibly intercept a 
 ray of heat from any individual present. Mo- 
 hegan found a place on an end of one of the 
 benches, and somewhat approximated to the bar. 
 When these movements had subsided, the Judge 
 remarked pleasantly : 
 
 “ Well, Betty, I find you retain your popular- 
 ity through all weathers, against all rivals, and 
 among all religions. How liked you the ser- 
 mon ? ” 
 
 “ Is it the sarmon ? ” exclaimed the landlady. 
 u I can’t say but it was rasonable ; but the prayers 
 is mighty unasy. It’s no small a matter for a 
 body in their fifty -nint’ year to be moving so much 
 in church. Mr. Grant sames a godly man, any 
 way, and his garrel is a hoomble one, and a de- 
 vout. — Here, John, is a mug of cider, laced with 
 whiskey. An Indian will drink cider, though he 
 niver be athirst.” 
 
 “ I must say,” observed Hiram, with due delib- 
 eration, “ that it was a tonguey thing ; and I rath- 
 er guess that it gave considerable satisfaction. 
 There was one part, though, which might have 
 been left out, or something else put in ; but then 
 I s’pose that, as it was a written discourse, it is 
 not so easily altered as where a minister preaches 
 without notes.” 
 
 “ Ay ! there’s the rub, Joodge,” cried the land- 
 lady. “ How can a man stand up and be prach- 
 ing his word, when all that he is saying is written 
 down, and he is as much tied to it as iver a thav- 
 ing dragoon was to the pickets ? ” 
 
 “Well, well,” cried Marmaduke, waving his 
 hand for silence, “ there is enough said ; as Mr. 
 Grant told us, there are different sentiments on 
 such subjects, and in my opinion he spoke most 
 sensibly. — So, Jotham, I am told you have sold 
 
70 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 your betterments to a new settler, and have moved 
 into the village, and opened a school. Was it 
 cash or dicker ? ” 
 
 The man who was thus addressed occupied a 
 seat immediately behind Marmaduke ; and one 
 who was ignorant of the extent of the Judge’s 
 observation, might have thought he would have 
 escaped notice. He was of a thin, shapeless figure, 
 with a discontented expression of countenance, and 
 with something extremely shiftless in his whole 
 air. Thus spoken to, after turning and twist- 
 ing a little, by way of preparation, he made a re- 
 ply* 
 
 « Why, part cash, and part dicker. I sold out 
 to a Pumfretman who was so’thin forehanded. 
 
 He was to give me ten dollars an acre for the 
 clearin, and one dollar an acre over the first cost 
 on the woodland; and we agreed to leave the 
 buildins to men. So I tuck Asa Montagu, and he 
 tuck Absalom Bement, and they two tuck old 
 Squire Napthali Green. And so they had a meet- 
 in, and made out a vardict of eighty dollars for 
 the buildins. There was twelve acres of clearin, 
 at ten dollars, and eighty-eight at one, and the 
 whull came to two hundred and eighty-six dollars 
 and a half, after paying the men.” 
 
 « Hum,” said Marmaduke : “ what did you 
 give for the place ? ” 
 
 “Why, besides what’s cornin’ to the Judge, I* 
 gi'n my brother Tim a hundred dollars for his 
 bargain ; but then there’s a new house on’t, that 
 cost me sixty more, and I paid Moses a hundred 
 dollars, for choppin’, and loggin’, and sowin’ ; so 
 that the whull stood to me in about two hundred 
 and sixty dollars. But then I had a great crop 
 off on’t, and as I got twenty-six dollars and a half 
 more than it cost, I conclude I made a pretty 
 good trade on’t.” 
 
 “ Yes, but you forgot that the crop was yours 
 without the trade, and you have turned yourself 
 out of doors for twenty-six dollars.” 
 
 “ Oh ! the Judge is clean out,” said the man, 
 with a look of sagacious calculation ; “ he turned 
 out a span of horses, that is wuth a hundred and 
 fifty dollars of any man’s money, with a bran new 
 wagon ; fifty dollars in cash ; and a good note for 
 eighty more ; and a side-saddle that was valued at 
 seven and a half — so there was jist twelve shil- 
 lings betwixt us. I wanted him to turn out a set 
 of harness, and take the cow and the sap troughs. 
 He wouldn’t— but I saw through it ; he thought 
 I should have to buy the tacklin’ afore I could use 
 the wagon and horses ; but I know’d a thing or 
 two myself; I should like *o know of what use is 
 the tacklin’ to him ! I offered him to trade back 
 tg’in for one hundred and fifty-five. But my worn- t 
 
 an said she wanted a churn, so I tuck a churn for 
 the change.” 
 
 “And what do you mean to do with your 
 time this winter ? you must remember that time 
 is money.” 
 
 “Why, as master has gone down country, to 
 see his mother, who, they say, is going to make 
 a die on’t, I agreed to take the school in hand till 
 he comes back. If times doosn’t get worse in the 
 spring, I’ve some notion of going into trade, or 
 maybe I may move off to the Genesee ; they say 
 they are carryin’ on a great stroke of business 
 that-a-way. If the wust comes to the wust, I can 
 but work at my trade, for I was brought up in a 
 shoe manufactory.” 
 
 “It would seem that Marmaduke did not 
 think his society of sufficient value to attempt in- 
 ducing him to remain where he was ; for he ad- 
 dressed no further discourse to the man, but 
 turned his attention to other subjects. After a 
 short pause, Hiram ventured a question : 
 
 “ What news does the Judge bring us from 
 the Legislature ? it’s not likely that Congress has 
 done much this session: or maybe the French 
 haven’t fit any more battles lately ? ” 
 
 “ The French, since they have beheaded their 
 king, have done nothing but fight,” returned the 
 Judge. “The character of the nation seems 
 changed. I knew many French gentlemen, dur- 
 ing our war, and they all appeared to me to be 
 men of great humanity and goodness of heart ; 
 but these Jacobins are as bloodthirsty as bull- 
 dogs.” 
 
 « There was one Roshambow wid us, down at 
 Yorrektown,” cried the landlady; “a mighty 
 pratty man he was, too ; and their horse was the 
 very same. It was there that the sargeant got 
 the hurt in the leg, from the English batteries, 
 bad luck to ’em.” 
 
 “Ah! mon pauvre roi ! ” murmured Mon- 
 sieur Le Quoi. 
 
 “The Legislature have been passing laws,” 
 continued Marmaduke, “ that the country much 
 required. Among others, there is an act prohib- 
 iting the drawing of seines, at any other than 
 proper seasons, in certain of our streams and 
 small lakes ; and another, to prohibit the killing 
 of deer in the teeming months. These are laws 
 that were loudly called for, by judicious men ; 
 nor do I despair of getting an act to make the un- 
 lawful felling of timber a criminal offence.” 
 
 The hunter listened to this detail with breath- 
 less attention, and, when the Judge had ended, he 
 laughed in open derision. 
 
 “You may make your laws, Judge,” he cried, 
 “ but wno will you find to watch the mountain* 
 
M. LE QUOI AND THE JACOBINS. 
 
 71 
 
 through the long summer days, or the lakes at 
 nignt ? Game is game, and he who finds may 
 kill ; that has been the law in these mountains 
 for forty years to my sartain knowledge ; and I 
 think one old law is worth two new ones. None 
 but a green one would wish to kill a doe with a 
 fa’n by its side, unless his moccasins were getting 
 old, or his leggins ragged, for the flesh is lean and 
 coarse. But a rifle rings among the rocks along 
 the lake shore, sometimes, as if fifty pieces were 
 fired at once — it would be hard to tell where the 
 man stood who pulled the trigger.” 
 
 “Armed with the dignity of the law, Mr. 
 Bumppo,” returned the Judge, gravely, “ a vigil- 
 ant magistrate can prevent much of the evil that 
 has hitherto prevailed, and which is already ren- 
 dering the game scarce. I hope to live to see the 
 day when a man’s rights in his game shall be as 
 much respected as his title to his farm.” 
 
 “ Your titles and your farms are all new to- 
 gether,” cried Natty; “but laws should be equal, 
 and not more for one than another. I shot a 
 deer, last Wednesday was a fortnight, and it 
 floundered through the snow-banks till it got over 
 a brush fence ; I catch’d the lock of my rifle in 
 the twigs in following, and was kept back, until 
 finally the creater got off. Now I want to know 
 who is to pay me for that deer ; and a fine buck 
 it was. If there hadn’t been a fence I should 
 have gotten another shot into it ; and I never 
 draw’d upon any thing that hadn’t wings three 
 times running, in my born days. — No, no, Judge, 
 it’s the farmers that makes the game scarce, and 
 not the hunters.” 
 
 “ Ter teer is not so plenty as in ter old war, 
 Pumppo,” said the major, who had been an atten- 
 tive listener, amid clouds of smoke ; “ put ter 
 lant is not mate as for ter teer to live on, put for 
 Christians.” 
 
 “ Why, major, I believe you’re a friend to jus- 
 tice and the right, though you go so often to the 
 grand house; but it’s a hard case to a man to 
 have his honest calling for a livelihood stopped 
 by laws, and that too when, if right was done, he 
 mought hunt or fish on any day in the week, or 
 on the best flat in the Patent, if he was so mind- 
 ed.” 
 
 “ I unterstant you, Letter-stockint,” returned 
 the major, fixing his black eyes, with a look of 
 peculiar meaning, on the hunter ; “ put you did’nt 
 use to be so prutent, as to look ahet mit so much 
 
 care.” 
 
 “ Maybe there wasn’t so much occasion,” said 
 the hunter, a little sulkily ; when he sank into a 
 silence from which he was not roused for some 
 time. 
 
 “ The Judge was saying so’thin about the 
 French,” Hiram observed, when the pause in the 
 conversation had continued a decent time. 
 
 “ Yes, sir,” returned Marmaduke, “the Jaco- 
 bins of France seem rushing from one act of li- 
 centiousness to another. They continue those 
 murders which are dignified by the name of exe- 
 cutions. You have heard that they have added 
 the death of their Queen to the long list of their 
 crimes.” 
 
 “ Les monstres ! ” again murmured Monsieur 
 Le Quoi, turning himself suddenly in his chair, 
 with a convulsive start. 
 
 “ The province of La Vendee is laid waste by 
 the troops of the republic, and hundreds of its 
 inhabitants, who are royalists in their sentiments, 
 are shot at a time. La Vendee is a district in 
 the southwest of France that continues yet much 
 attached to the family of the Bourbons ; doubt- 
 less Monsieur Le Quoi is acquainted with it, and 
 can describe it more faithfully.” 
 
 “ Non, non, non, mon cher ami,” returned the 
 Frenchman, in a suppressed voice, but speaking 
 rapidly, and gesticulating with his right hand, as 
 if for mercy, while with his left he concealed his 
 eyes. 
 
 “ There have been many battles fought lately,” 
 continued Marmaduke, “ and the infuriated re- 
 publicans are too often victorious. I cannot say, 
 however, that I am sorry they have captured Tou- 
 lon from the English, for it is a place to which 
 they have a just right.” 
 
 “ Ah — ha ! ” exclaimed Monsieur Le Quoi, 
 springing on his feet, and flourishing both arms 
 with great animation ; “ ces Anglais ! ” 
 
 The Frenchman continued to move about the 
 room with great alacrity for a few minutes, re- 
 peating his exclamations to himself ; when, over- 
 come by the contradictory nature of his emotions, 
 he suddenly burst out of the house, and was seen 
 wading through the snow toward his little shop, 
 waving his arms on high, as if to pluck down 
 honor from the moon. His departure excited but 
 little surprise, for the villagers were used to his 
 manner ; but Major Hartmann laughed outright, 
 for the first time during his visit, as he lifted the 
 mug, and observed : 
 
 “ Ter Frenchman is mat — put he is goot as 
 for notting to trink ; he is trunk mit joy.” 
 
 “ The French are good soldiers,” said Captain 
 Hollister ; “ they stood us in hand a good turn, 
 down at Yorktown ; nor do I think, although I 
 am an ignorant man about the great movements 
 of the army, that his Excellency would have been 
 able to march against Cornwallis, without their 
 reenforcements.” 
 
72 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “Ye spake the trut’, sargeant,” interrupted 
 his wife, “ and I would iver have ye be doing the 
 same. It’s varry pratty men is the French ; and 
 jist when I stopt the cart, the time when ye was 
 pushing on in front it was, to kape the rig’lers in, 
 a rigiment of the jontlemen marched by, and so 
 I dealt them out to their liking. Was it pay I 
 got ? sure did I, and in good solid crowns : the 
 divil a bit of continental could they muster 
 among them all, for love nor money. Och ! the 
 Lord forgive me for swearing and spakeing of 
 such vanities : but this I will say for the French, 
 that they paid in good silver; and one glass 
 would go a great way wid ’em, for they gin’rally 
 handed it back wid a drop in the cup ; and that’s 
 a brisk trade, Joodge, where the pay is good, and 
 the men not over-partic’lar.” 
 
 “ A thriving trade, Mrs. Hollister,” said Mar- 
 maduke. “But what has become of Richard? 
 he jumped up as soon as seated, and has been 
 absent so long that I am really fearful he has 
 frozen.” 
 
 “No fear of that, cousin ’duke,” cried the 
 gentleman himself; “business will sometimes 
 keep a man warm the coldest night that ever 
 snapt in the mountains. Betty, your husband 
 told me, as we came out of church, that your 
 hogs were getting mangy, so I have been out to 
 take a look at them, and found it true. I stepped 
 across, doctor, and got your boy to weigh me 
 out a pound of salts, and have been mixing it 
 with their swill. I’ll bet a saddle of venison 
 against a gray squirrel, that they are better in a 
 week. And now,, Mrs. Hollister, I’m ready for a 
 hissing mug of flip.” 
 
 “ Sure I know’d yee’d be wanting that same,” 
 said the landlady ; “ it’s mixt and ready to the 
 boiling. Sargeant, dear, be handing up the iron, 
 will ye ? — no, the one in the far fire, it’s black, ye 
 will see. Ah ! you’ve the thing now ; look if it’s 
 not as red as a cherry;” 
 
 The beverage was heated, and Richard took 
 that kind of draught which men are apt to in- 
 dulge in, who think that they have just executed 
 a clever thing, especially when they like the 
 liquor. 
 
 “ Oh ! you have a hand, Betty, that was formed 
 to mix flip,” cried Richard, when he paused for 
 breath. “ The very iron has a flavor in it. Here, 
 John, drink, man, drink. I and you and Dr. 
 Todd, have done a good thing with the shoulder 
 of that lad this very night. ’Duke, I made a 
 song while you were gone — one day when I had 
 nothing to do ; so I’ll sing you a verse or two, 
 though I haven’t really determined on the tune 
 yet: 
 
 ‘ What is life but a scene of care, 
 
 Where each one must toil in his way ? 
 
 Then let us be jolly, and prove that we ajo 
 A set of good fellows, who seem very rare, 
 
 And can laugh and sing all the day. 
 
 Then let us be jolly, 
 
 And cast away folly, 
 
 For grief turns a black head to gray. 
 
 There, ’duke, what do think of that ? There i9 
 another verse of it, all but the last line. I haven’t 
 got a rhyme for the last line yet. Well, old John, 
 what do you think of the music ? as good as one 
 of your war-songs, ha ? ” 
 
 “ Good ! ” said Mohegan, who had been shar- 
 ing deeply in the potations of the landlady, be- 
 sides paying a proper respect to the passing mugs 
 of the major and Marmaduke. 
 
 “ Pravo 1 pravo ! Richart,” cried the major, 
 whose black eyes were beginning to swim in moist- 
 ure ; “ pravissimo ! it is a goot song ; put Natty 
 Pumppo hast a petter. Letter-stockint, vilt sing ? 
 say, olt poy, vilt sing ter song, as apout ter 
 woots ? ” 
 
 “ No, no, major,” returned the hunter, with a 
 melancholy shake of the head, “ I have lived to 
 see what I thought eyes could never behold in 
 these hills, and I have no heart left for singing. 
 If he, that has a right to be master and ruler 
 here, is forced to squinch his thirst, when a-dry, 
 with snow-water, it ill becomes them that have 
 lived by his bounty to be making merry, as if 
 there was nothing in the world but sunshine and 
 summer.” 
 
 When he had spoken, Leather.stocking again 
 dropped his head on his knees, and concealed his 
 hard and wrinkled features with his hands. The 
 change from the excessive cold without to the 
 heat of the bar-room, coupled with the depth and 
 frequency of Richard’s draughts, had already 
 levelled whatever inequality there might have 
 existed between him and the other guests, on the 
 score of spirits ; and he now held out a pair of 
 swimming mugs of foaming flip toward the hunter, 
 as he cried — 
 
 “ Merry ! ay ! merry Christmas to you, old 
 boy ! Sunshine and summer ! no ! you are blind! 
 Leather-stocking, ’tis moonshine and winter — 
 take these spectacles, and open your eyes — 
 
 ‘So let us be jolly. 
 
 And cast away folly. 
 
 For grief turns a black head to gray. ’ 
 
 — Hear how old John turns his quavers. What 
 damned dull music an Indian song is, after all, 
 major ! I wonder if they ever sing by note.” 
 
 While Richard was singing and talking, Mo- 
 hegan was uttering dull, monotonous tones, keep- 
 ing time by a gentle motion of his head and body. 
 
SCENE AT THE TAVERN. 
 
 73 
 
 He made use of but few words, and such as he 
 did utter were in his native language, and conse- 
 quently only understood by himself and Natty. 
 Without heeding Richard, he continued to sing a 
 kind of wild, melancholy air, that rose, at times, 
 in sudden and quite elevated notes, and then fell 
 •gain into the low, quavering sounds that seemed 
 to compose the character of his music. 
 
 The attention of the company was now much 
 divided, the men in the rear having formed them- 
 selves into little groups, where they were discuss- 
 ing various matters; among the principal of 
 which were, the treatment of mangy hogs, and 
 Parson Grant’s preaching ; while Dr. Todd was 
 endeavoring to explain to Marmaduke the nature 
 of the hurt received by the young hunter. Mo- 
 hegan continued to sing, while his countenance 
 was becoming vacant, though, coupled with his 
 thick, bushy hair, it was assuming an expression 
 very much like brutal ferocity. His notes were 
 gradually growing louder, and soon rose to a height 
 that caused a general cessation in the discourse. 
 The hunter now raised his head again, and ad- 
 dressed the old warrior, warmly, in the Delaware 
 language, which, for the benefit of our readers, 
 we shall render freely into English. 
 
 “ Why do you sing of your battles, Chingach- 
 gook, and of the warriors you have slain, when 
 the worst enemy of all is near you, and keeps the 
 Young Eagle from his rights ? I have fought in 
 as many battles as any warrior in your tribe, but 
 cannot boast of my deeds at such a time as this.” 
 
 “Hawk-eye,” said the Indian, tottering with 
 a doubtful step from his place, “ I am the Great 
 Snake of the Delawares ; I can track the Mingoes 
 like an adder that is stealing on the whippoor- 
 will’s eggs, and strike them like the rattlesnake, 
 dead at a blow. The white man made the toma- 
 hawk of Chingachgook bright as the waters of 
 Otsego, when the last sun is shining ; but it is red 
 with the blood of the Haquas.” 
 
 “ And why have you slain the Mingo warriors ? 
 Was it not to keep these hunting-grounds and 
 lakes to your father’s children ? and were they 
 not given in solemn council to the Fire-eater ? 
 and does not the blood of a warrior run in the 
 veins of a young chief, who should speak aloud, 
 where his voice is now too low to be heard ? ” 
 
 The appeal of the hunter seemed in some 
 measure to recall the confused faculties of the 
 Indian, who turned his face toward the listeners 
 and gazed intently on the Judge. He shook his 
 head, throwing his hair back from his counte- 
 nance, and exposed eyes that were glaring with 
 an expression of wild resentment. But the man 
 was not himself. His hand seemed to make a 
 
 fruitless effort to release his tomahawk, which was 
 confined by its handle to his belt, while his eyes 
 gradually became vacant. Richard at that instant 
 thrusting a mug before him, his features changed 
 to the grin of idiocy, and seizing the vessel with 
 both hands, he sank backward on the bench and 
 drank until satiated, when he made an effort to 
 lay aside the mug with the helplessness of total 
 inebriety. 
 
 “ Shed not blood ! ” exclaimed the hunter, as 
 he watched the countenance of the Indian in its 
 moment of ferocity ; “ but he is drunk, and can 
 do no harm. This is the way with all the sav- 
 ages ; give them liquor, and they make dogs of 
 themselves. Well, well — the day will come when 
 right will be done ; and we must have patience.” 
 
 Natty still spoke in the Delaware language, 
 and of course was not understood. He had hardly 
 concluded, before Richard cried : 
 
 “ Well, old John is soon sowed up. Give him 
 a berth, captain, in the barn, and I will pay for 
 it. I am rich to-night, ten times richer than 
 ’duke, with all his landj. and military lots, and 
 funded debts, and bonds, and mortgages. 
 
 4 Come let ns be jolly, 
 
 And cast away folly. 
 
 For grief—’ 
 
 Drink, King Hiram — drink, Mr. Doo-nothing— 
 drink, sir, I say. This is a Christmas-eve, which 
 comes, you know, but once a year.” 
 
 “ He ! he ! he ! the squire is quite moosical 
 to-night,” said Hiram, whose visage began to 
 give marvellous signs of relaxation. “ I rather 
 guess we shall make a church on’t yet, squire ? ” 
 
 “A church, Mr. Doolittle! we will make a 
 cathedral of it ! bishops, priests, deacons, wardens, 
 vestry, and choir : organ, organist, and bellows ! 
 By the Lord Harry, as Benjamin says, we will 
 clap a steeple on the other end of it, and make 
 two churches of it. What say you, ’duke, will 
 you pay ? ha ! my cousin Judge, wil’t pay ! ” 
 
 “ Thou makest such a noise, Dickon,” returned 
 Marmaduke, “ it is impossible that I can hear 
 what Dr. Todd is saying — I think thou ob- 
 servedst, it is probable the wound will fester, so 
 as to occasion danger to the limb in this cold 
 weather ? ” 
 
 “Out of nater, sir, quite out of nater,” said 
 Elnathan, attempting to expectorate, but succeed- 
 ing only in throwing a light, frothy substance, 
 like a flake of snow, into the fire — “ quite out of 
 nater, that a wound so well dressed, and with the 
 ball in my pocket, should fester. I s’pose, as 
 the Judge talks of taking the young man into his 
 house, it will be most convenient if I make but 
 ore charge on’t.” 
 
74 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “I should think one would do,” returned 
 Marmaduke, with that arch smile that so often 
 beamed on his face ; leaving the beholder in doubt 
 whether he most enjoyed the character of his 
 companion, or his own covert humor. The 
 landlord had succeeded in placing the Indian on 
 some straw in one of his out-buildings, where, 
 covered with his own blanket, John continued for 
 the remainder of the night. 
 
 In the mean time, Major Hartmann began to 
 grow noisy and jocular; glass succeeded glass, 
 and mug after mug was introduced, until the ca- 
 rousal had run deep into the night, or rather 
 morning; when the veteran German expressed 
 all inclination to return to the mansion-house. 
 Most of the party had already retired, but Mar- 
 maduke knew the habits of his friend too well to 
 suggest an earlier adjournment. So soon, how- 
 ever, as the proposal was made, the Judge eager- 
 ly availed himself of it, and the trio prepared to 
 depart. Mrs. Hollister attended them to the door 
 in person, cautioning her guests as to the safest 
 manner of leaving her premises. 
 
 “Lane on Mister Jones, major,” said she, 
 “he’s young, and will be a support to ye. Well, 
 it’s a charming sight to see ye, any way, at the 
 Bould Dragoon ; and sure it’s no harm to be kap- 
 ing a Christmas-eve wid a light heart, for it’s no 
 telling when we may have sorrow come upon us. 
 So good-night, Joodge, and a merry Christmas to 
 ye all, to morrow-morning.” 
 
 The gentlemen made their adieus as well as 
 they could, and, taking the middle of the road, 
 which was a fine, wide, and well-beaten path, 
 they did tolerably well until they reached the 
 gate of the mansion-house : but, on entering the 
 Judge’s domains, they encountered some slight 
 difficulties. We shall not stop to relate them, 
 but will just mention that, in the morning, sun- 
 dry diverging paths were to be seen in the snow ; 
 and that once, during their progress to the door, 
 Marmaduke, missing his companions, was enabled 
 to trace them, by one of these paths, to a spot 
 where he discovered them with nothing visible 
 but their heads, Richard singing in a most viva- 
 cious strain : 
 
 “ Come, let us be jolly, 
 
 And cast away folly, 
 
 For grief turns a black head to gray.” 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 “As she lay, on that day, in the Bay of Biscay, 01* 
 
 Previously to the occurrence of the scene at 
 the “ Bold Dragoon,” Elizabeth had been safely 
 reconducted to the mansion-house, where she was 
 left as its mistress, either to amuse or employ 
 herself during the evening, as best suited her 
 own inclinations. Most of. the lights were extin- 
 guished; but as Benjamin adjusted, with great 
 care and regularity, four large candles, in as 
 many massive candlesticks of brass, in a row on 
 the sideboard, the hall possessed a peculiar air of 
 comfort and warmth, contrasted with the cheer- 
 less aspect of the room she had left in the acad- j 
 emy. 
 
 Remarkable had been one of the listeners to 
 Mr. Grant, and returned with her resentment * 
 which had been not a little excited by the lan- 
 guage of the Judge, somewhat softened by re- 1 
 flection and the worship. She recollected the 
 youth of Elizabeth, and thought it no difficult 
 task, under present appearances, to exercise that 
 power indirectly, which hitherto she had enjoyed 
 undisputed. The idea of being governed, or of 
 being compelled to pay the deference of servi- 
 tude, was absolutely intolerable ; and she had 
 already determined within herself, some half 
 dozen times, to make an effort that should at 
 once bring to an issue the delicate point of her 
 domestic condition. But as often as she met the| 
 dark, proud eye of Elizabeth, who was walking! 
 up and down the apartment, musing on the scenes 
 of her youth, and the change in her condition,! 
 and perhaps the events of the day, the house- 
 keeper experienced an awe that she would not 
 own to herself could be excited by any thing 
 mortal. It, however, checked her advances, and, 
 for some time held her tongue-tied. At length 
 she determined to commence the discourse, bj 
 entering on a subject that was apt to level all 
 human distinctions, and in which she might dis- 
 play her own abilities. 
 
 “It was quite a wordy sarmon that Parson 
 Grant gave us to-night,” said Remarkable. “ The 
 Church ministers be commonly smart sarmon- 
 izers ; but they write down their idees, which if 
 a great privilege. I don’t think that, by natcr, 
 they are as tonguey speakers, for an off-hand 
 discourse, as the standing-order ministers.” 
 
 “And what denomination do you distinguisl 
 as the standing-order ? ” inquired Miss Temple 
 with some surprise. 
 
 “ Why, the Presbyte’rans and Congrega 
 
THE HOUSE-KEEFER AND BEN PUMP. 
 
 75 
 
 tionals, and Baptists, too, for-ti-’now ; and all 
 iitch as don’t go on their knees to prayer.” 
 
 “ By that rule, then, you would call those who 
 belong to the persuasion of my father, the sitting 
 order,” observed Elizabeth. 
 
 “ I’m sure I’ve never heard ’em spoken of by 
 any other name than Quakers, so called,” 
 returned Remarkable, betraying a slight uneasi- 
 ness : “ I should be the last to call them other- 
 wise, for I never in my life used a disparaging 
 tarm of the Judge, or any of his family. I’ve 
 always set store by the Quakers, they are so 
 pretty-spoken, clever people ; and it’s a wonder- 
 ment to me how your father come to marry into 
 a church family ; for they are as contrary in 
 religion as can be. One sits still, and, for the 
 most part, says nothing, while the church folks 
 practyse all kinds of ways, so that I sometimes 
 think it quite moosical to see them ; for I went 
 to a church-meeting once before, down country.” 
 
 “ You have found an excellence in the church 
 liturgy that has hitherto escaped me. I will 
 thank you to inquire whether the fire in my room 
 burns : I feel fatigued with my journey, and will 
 retire.” 
 
 Remarkable felt a wonderful inclination to tell 
 the young mistress of the mansion, that by open- 
 ing a door she might see for herself ; but pru- 
 dence got the better of resentment, and after 
 pausing some little time, as a salvo to her dignity, 
 she did as desired. The report was favorable, 
 and the young lady, wishing Benjamin, who was 
 filling the stove with wood, and the house-keeper, 
 each a good-night, withdrew. 
 
 The instant the door closed on Miss Temple, 
 Remarkable commenced a sort of mysterious, 
 ambiguous discourse, that was neither abusive 
 nor commendatory of the qualities of the absent 
 personage ; but which seemed to be drawing nigh, 
 by regular degrees, to a most dissatisfied descrip- 
 tion. The major-domo made no reply, but con- 
 tinued his occupation with great industry, which 
 being happily completed, he took a look at the 
 thermometer, and then, opening a drawer of the 
 sideboard, he produced a supply of stimulants 
 that would have served to keep the warmth in his 
 system, without the aid of the enormous fire he 
 had been building. A small stand was drawn up 
 near the stove, and the bottles and the glasses 
 necessary for convenience were quietly arranged. 
 Two chairs were placed by the side of this com- 
 fortable situation, when Benjamin, for the firs* 
 time, appeared to observed his companion. 
 
 “Come,” he cried, “come, Mistress Remark- 
 able, bring yourself to an anchor in this chair. 
 It’s a peeler without, I can tell you, ^ood woman ; 
 
 but what cares I? blow high or blow low, d’ye 
 see, it’s all the same thing to Ben. The niggers 
 are snug stowed bejow before a fire that would 
 roast an ox whole. The thermometer stands now 
 at fifty-five, but if there's any vartue in good 
 maple wood, I’ll weather upon it, before one 
 glass, as much as ten points more, so that the 
 squire, when he comes home from Betty Hollis- 
 ter’s warm room, will feel as hot as a hand that 
 has given the rigging a lick with bad tar. Come, 
 mistress, bring up in this here chair, and tell me 
 how you like our new heiress.” 
 
 “ Why, to my notion, Mr. Penguillum — ” 
 
 “Pump, Pump,” interrupted Benjamin; “it’s 
 Christmas-eve, Mistress Remarkable, and so, d’ye 
 see, you had better call me Pump. It’s a shorter 
 name, and as I mean to pump this here decanter 
 till it sucks, why, you may as well call me Pump.” 
 
 “ Did you ever ! ” cried Remarkable, with a 
 laugh that seemed to unhinge every joint in her 
 body. “ You’re a moosical creater, Benjamin, 
 when the notion takes you. But, as I was saying, 
 I rather guess that times will be altered now in 
 this house.” 
 
 “ Altered 1” exclaimed the major-domo, ey- 
 ing the bottle that was assuming the clear aspect 
 of cut glass with astonishing rapidity ; “it don’t 
 matter much, Mistress Remarkable, so long as I 
 keep the keys of the lockers in my pocket.” 
 
 “ I can’t say,” continued the house-keeper, 
 “ but there’s good eatables and drinkables enough 
 in the house for a body’s content — a little more 
 sugar, Benjamin, in the glass — for Squire Jones 
 is an excellent provider. But new lords, new laws ; 
 and I shouldn’t wonder if you and I had an un- 
 sartain time on’t in footer.” 
 
 “ Life is as unsartain as the wind that blows,” 
 said Benjamin, with a moralizing air ; “ and noth- 
 ing is more vari’ble than the wind, Mistress Re- 
 markable, unless you happen to fall in with the 
 trades, d’ye see, and then you may run for the 
 matter of a month at a time, with studding-sails 
 on both sides, alow and aloft, and with the cabin- 
 boy at the wheel.” 
 
 “ I know that life is disp’ut unsartain,” said Re- 
 markable, compressing her features to the humor 
 of her companion ; “ but I expect there will be 
 great changes made in the house to rights ; and 
 that you will find a young man put over your head, 
 as there is one that wants to be over mine ; and 
 after having been settled as long as you have, Ben- 
 jamin, I should judge that to be hard.” 
 
 “ Promotion should go according to length of 
 sarvice,” said the major-domo ; “ and if-so-be that 
 they ship a hand for my berth, or place a new 
 steward aft, I shall throw up my commission in 
 
76 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 less time than you can put a pilotrboat in stays. 
 Thof Squire Dickens ” — this was a common mis- 
 nomer with Benjamin — “is a nice gentleman, and 
 as good a man to sail with as heart could wish, 
 yet I shall tell the squire, d’ye see, in plain Eng- 
 lish, and that’s my native tongue, that if-so-be 
 he is thinking of putting any Johnny Raw over 
 my head, why, I shall resign. I began forrard, 
 Mistress Prettybones, and worked my way aft, like 
 a man. I was six months aboard a Garnsey lug- 
 ger, hauling in the slack of the lee-sheet, and coil- 
 ing up rigging. Prom that I went a few trips in 
 a fore-and-after, in the same trade, which, alter 
 all, was but a blind kind of Sailing in the dark, 
 where a man larns but little, excepting how to 
 steer by the stars. Well, then, d’ye see, I larnt 
 how a topmast should be slushed, and how a top- 
 gallant-sail was to be becketted ; and then I did 
 small jobs in the cabin, such as mixing the skip- 
 per’s grog. ’Twas there I got my taste, which, 
 you must have often seen, is excellent. Well, 
 here,s better acquaintance to us.” 
 
 Remarkable nodded a return to the compli- 
 ment, and took a sip of the beverage before her ; 
 for, provided it was well sweetened, she had no 
 objection to a small potation now and then. Af- 
 ter this observance of courtesy between the wor- 
 thy couple, the dialogue proceeded. 
 
 “ You have had great experiences in life, Ben- 
 jamin ; for, as the Scripter says, ‘ They that go 
 down to the sea in ships see the works of the 
 Lord.’ ” 
 
 “Ay! for that matter, they in brigs and 
 schooners too ; and it mought say, the works of 
 the devil. The sea, Mistress Remarkable, is a 
 great advantage to a man, in the way of knowledge, 
 for he sees the fashions of nations, and the shape 
 of a country. Now, I suppose, for myself here, 
 who is but an unlarned man to some that follows 
 the seas, I suppose that, taking the coast from Cape 
 Ler Hogue, as low down as Cape Finish-there, 
 there isn’t so much as a headland, or an island, 
 that I don’t know either the name of it, or some- 
 thing more or less about it. Take enough, wom- 
 an, to color the water. Here’s sugar. It’s a 
 sweet tooth, that fellow that you hold on upon 
 yet, Mistress Prettybones. But, as I was saying, 
 take the whole coast along, I know it as well as 
 the way from here to the Bold Dragoon ; and a devil 
 of an acquaintance is that Bay of Biscay. Whew ! 
 I wish you could but hear the wind blow there. 
 It sometimes takes two to hold one man’s hair on 
 his head. Scudding through the bay is pretty 
 much the same thing as travelling the roads in 
 this country, up one side of a mountain, and down 
 the other.” 
 
 “ Do tell ! ” exclaimed Remarkable ; “ and 
 does the sea run as high as mountains, Benja- 
 min ? ” 
 
 “Well, I will tell; but first let’s taste the 
 grog. Hem ! it’s the right kind of stuff, I must 
 say, that you keep in this country, but then you’re 
 so close aboard the West Indies, you make but a 
 small run of it. By the lord Harry, woman, if 
 Garnsey only lay somewhere between Cape Hat- 
 teras and the bite of Logann, but you’d see rum 
 cheap ! As to the seas, they runs more in up- 
 pers in the Bay of Biscay, unless it may be in a 
 sow-wester, when they tumble about quite hand- 
 somely ; thof it’s not in the narrow sea that you 
 are to look for a swell; just go off the Wes- 
 tern Islands, in a westerly blow, keeping the 
 land on your larboard hand, with the ship’s head i 
 to the south’ard, and bring to, under a close- 
 reef d topsail ; or, mayhap, a reef’d foresail, with 
 a fore-topmast-staysail, and mizzen-staysail, to 
 keep her up to the sea, if she will bear it ; and 
 lay there for the matter of two watches, if you 
 want to see mountains. Why, good woman, I’ve 
 been off there in the Boadishey frigate, when you 
 could see nothing but some such matter as a 
 piece of sky, mayhap, as big as the mainsail ; and 
 then again, there was a hole under your lee-quar- 
 ter big enough to hold the whole British navy.” 
 
 “ Oh ! for massy’s sake ! and wan’t you 
 afeard, Benjamin ? and how did you get off? ” 
 
 « Afeard ! who the devil do you think was to 
 be frightened at a little salt-water tumbling about 
 his head? As for getting off, when we had 
 enough of it, and had washed our decks down 
 pretty well, we called all hands, for, d’ye see, the 
 watch below was in their hammocks, all the same 
 as if they were in one of your best bedrooms ; 
 and so we watched for a smooth time ; clapt her 
 helm hard a weather, let fall the foresail, and got 
 the tack aboard ; and so, when we got her afore 
 it, I ask you, Mistress Prettybones, if she didn’t 
 walk? did’nt she? I’m no liar, good woman, 
 when I say that I saw that ship jump from the 
 top of one sea to another, just like one of these 
 squirrels, that can fly, jumps from tree to tree.” 
 
 “ What, clean out of the water ! ” exclaimed 
 Remarkable, lifting her two lank arms, with their 
 bony hands spread in astonishment. 
 
 “ It was no such easy matter to get out of the 
 water, good woman ; for the spray flew so that 
 you couldn’t tell which was sea and which was 
 cloud. So there we kept her afore it for the mat- 
 ter of two glasses. The first lieutenant he cun’d 
 the ship himself, and there was four quarter-mas- 
 ters at the wheel, besides the master with six 
 I forecastle men in the gun-room, at the relieving 
 
A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION. 
 
 77 
 
 tackles. But then she behaved herself so well! 
 Oh ! she was a sweet ship, mistress ! That one 
 frigate was well worth moie, to live in, than the 
 best house in the island. If I was king of Eng- 
 land, I’d have her hauled up above Lon’on bridge, 
 and fit her up for a palace ; because why ? if any- 
 body can afford to live comfortably, his majesty 
 can.” 
 
 “Well! but, Benjamin,” cried the listener, 
 who was in an ecstasy of astonishment, at this 
 relation of the steward’s dangers, “ what did you 
 do?” 
 
 . “ Do ! why we did our duty like hearty fel- 
 lows. Now if the countrymen of Mounsheer Ler 
 Quaw had been aboard of her, they would have 
 just struck her ashore on some of them small 
 islands; but we run along the land, until we 
 found her dead to leeward off the mountains of 
 Pico, and dam’me if I know to this day how we 
 got there; whether we jumped over the island, 
 or hauled round it ; but there we was, and there 
 we lay, under easy sail, fore-reaching first upon 
 one tack and then upon t’other, so as to poke her 
 nose out now and then, and take a look to 
 wind’ ard,, till the gale blow’d its pipe out.” 
 
 “ I wonder now ! ” exclaimed Remarkable, to 
 whom most of the terms used by Benjamin were 
 perfectly unintelligible, but who had got a con- 
 fused idea of a raging tempest. “ It must be an 
 awful life, that going to sea ! and I don’t feel as- 
 tonishment that you are so affronted with the 
 thoughts of. being forced to quit a comfortable 
 home like this. Not that a body cares much 
 for’t, as there’s more houses than one to live in. 
 Why, when the Judge agreed with me to come 
 and live with him, I’d no more notion of stopping 
 any time than any thing. I happened in, just to 
 see how the family did, about a week after Mrs. 
 Temple died, thinking to be back home ag’in 
 night ; but the family was in sitch a distressed 
 way, that I couldn’t but stop awhile, and help 
 'em on. I thought the situation a good one, see- 
 ing that I was an unmarried body, and they were 
 so much in want of help ; so I tarried.” 
 
 “ And a long time you have left your anchors 
 down in the same place, mistress. I think you 
 must find that the ship rides easy.” 
 
 “ How you talk, Benjamin ! there’s no believ- 
 ing a word you say. I must say that the Judge 
 and Squire Jones have both acted quite clever, so 
 loDg ; but I see that now we shall have a speci- 
 men to the contrary. I heer’n say that the Judge 
 <vas gone a great ’broad, and that he meant to 
 i>ring his darter hum, but I didn’t calculate on 
 nteh earrins on. To my notion, Benjamin, she’s 
 ikely to turn out a desput ugly gal.” 
 
 “ Ugly ! ” echoed the major-domo, opening 
 eyes, that were beginning to close in a very sus- 
 picious sleepiness, in wide amazement. “ By the 
 lord Harry, woman, I should as soon think of 
 calling the Boadishey a clumsy frigate. What 
 the devil would you have ? arn’t her eyes as 
 bright as the morning and evening stars? and 
 isn’t her hair as black and glistening as rigging 
 that has just had a lick of tar ? doesn’t she move 
 as stately as a first-rate in smooth water, on a 
 bowline ? Why, woman, the figure-head of the 
 Boadishey was a fool to her, and that, as I’ve often 
 heard the captain say, was an image of a great 
 queen ; and arn’t queens always comely, woman ? 
 for who do you think would be a king, and not 
 choose a handsome bedfellow ? ” 
 
 “ Talk decent, Benjamin,” said the house-keep- 
 er, “ or I won’t keep your company. I don’t gain- 
 say her being comely to look on, but I will main- 
 tain that she’s likely to show poor conduct. She 
 seems to think herself too good to talk to a body. 
 From what Squire Jones had tell’d me, I some 
 expected to be quite captivated by her company. 
 Now, to my reckoning, Lowizy Grant is much 
 more pritty behaved than Betsey Temple. She 
 wouldn’t so much as hold discourse with me, 
 when I wanted to ask her how she felt, on coming 
 home and missing her mammy.” 
 
 “Perhaps she didn’t understand you, wom- 
 an; you are none of the best linguister; and 
 then Miss Lizzy has been exercising the king’s 
 English under a great Lon’on lady, and, for that 
 matter, can talk the language almost as well as 
 myself, or any native-born British subject. You’ve 
 forgot your schooling, and the young mistress is 
 a great scollard.” 
 
 “ Mistress ! ” cried Remarkable, “ don’t make 
 one out to be a nigger, Benjamin. She’s no mis- 
 tress of mine, and never will be. And as to 
 speech, I hold myself as second to nobody out of 
 New England. I was born and raised in Essex 
 County ; and I’ve always heer’n say that the Bay 
 State was provarbal for pronounsation ! ” 
 
 “ I’ve often heard of that Bay of State,” said 
 Benjamin, “ but can’t say that I’ve ever been in 
 it, nor do I know exactly whereaway it is that it 
 lays ; but I suppose there is good anchorage in it, 
 and that it’s no bad place for the taking of ling; 
 but for size, it can’t be so much as a yawl to a sloop 
 of war, compared with the Bay of Biscay, or, may. 
 hap, Torbay. And as for language, if you want to 
 hear the dictionary overhauled, like a long-line 
 in a blow, you must go to Wapping, and listen to 
 the Lon’oners, as they deal out their lingo. How- 
 somever, I see no such mighty matter that Miss 
 Lizzy has been doing to you, good woman, s® 
 
78 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 take another drop of your brew, and forgive and 
 forget, like an honest soul.” 
 
 “ No, indeed ! and I shan’t do sitch a thing, 
 Benjamin. This treatment is a newity to me, 
 and what I won’t put up with. I have a hundred 
 and fifty dollars at use, besides a bed and twenty 
 sheep, to good ; and I don't crave to live in a house 
 where a body mustn’t call a young woman by her 
 given name to her face. I will call her Betsey 
 as much as I please : it’s a free country, and no 
 one can stop me. I did intend to stop while sum- 
 mer, but I shall quit to-morrow morning ; and I 
 will talk just as I please.” 
 
 “ For that matter, Mistress Remarkable,” said 
 Benjamin, “ there’s none here who will contradict 
 you ; for I’m of opinion that it would be as easy 
 to stop a hurricane with a Barcelony handkerchy } 
 as to bring up your tongue when the stopper is 
 off. I say, good woman, do they grow many 
 monkeys along the shores of that Bay of State ? ” 
 
 “ You’re a monkey yourself, Mr. Penguillum,” 
 cried the enraged house-keeper, “ or a bear I a 
 black, beastly bear! and an’t fit for a decent 
 woman to stay with. I’ll never keep your com- 
 pany ag’in, sir, if I should live thirty years with 
 the Judge. Sitch talk is more befitting the 
 kitchen than the keeping-room of a house of one 
 who is well to do in the world.” 
 
 “ Look you, Mistress Pitty — Patty — Pretty- 
 bones, mayhap I’m some such matter as a bear, 
 as they will find who come to grapple with me ; 
 but dam’me if I’m a monkey — a thing that chat- 
 ters without knowing a word of what it says — a 
 parrot ; that will hold a dialogue, for what an 
 honest man knows, in a dozen languages ; may- 
 hap in the Bay of State lingo ; mayhap in Greek 
 or High Dutch. But dost it know what it means 
 itself ? canst answer me that, good woman ? Y our 
 midshipman can sing out, and pass the word, 
 when the captain gives the order, but just Send 
 him adrift by himself, and let him work the ship 
 of his own head, and stop my grog, if you don’t 
 find all the Johnny Raws laughing at him.” 
 
 “ Stop your grog, indeed ! ” said Remarkable, 
 rising with great indignation, and seizing a can- 
 dle ; “you’re groggy now, Benjamin, and I’ll quit 
 the room before I hear any tnisbecoming words 
 from you.” 
 
 The housekeeper retired, with a manner but 
 little less dignified, as she thought, than the air 
 of the heiress, muttering as she drew the door 
 after her, with a noise like the report of a mus- 
 ket, the opprobrious terms of “ drunkard,” “ sot,” 
 and “ beast.” 
 
 “ Who’s that you say is drunk ? ” cried Ben- 
 jamin, fiercely, rising and making a movement 
 
 toward Renarkable. “You talk of mustering 
 yourself with a lady ! you’re just fit to grumble 
 and find fault. Where the devil should you lam 
 behavior and dictionary ? in your damned Bay 
 of State, ha ? ” 
 
 Benjamin here fell back in his chair, and soon 
 gave vent to certain ominous sounds, which re- 
 sembled not a little the growling of his favorite 
 animal, the bear itself. Before, however, he was 
 quite locked — to use the language that would suit 
 the Della-cruscan humor of certain refined minds 
 of the present day — “ in the arms of Morpheus,” 
 he spoke aloud, observing due pauses between 
 his epithets, the impressive terms of “ monkey,” 
 “ parrot,” “ picnic,” “ tar-pot,” and “ linguisters.” 
 
 We shall not attempt to explain his meaning, 
 nor connect his sentences ; and our readers must 
 be satisfied with our informing them that they 
 were expressed with all that coolness of contempt 
 that a man might well be supposed to feel for a 
 monkey. 
 
 Nearly two hours passed in this sleep before 
 the major-domo was awakened by the noisy en- 
 trance of Richard, Major Hartmann, and the mas- 
 ter of the mansion. Benjamin so far rallied his 
 confused faculties, as to shape the course of the 
 two former to their respective apartments, when 
 he disappeared himself, leaving the task of secur- 
 ing the house to him who was most interested in 
 its safety. Locks and bars were but little attend- 
 ed to in the early day of that settlement ; and so 
 soon as Marmaduke had given an eye to the 
 enormous fires of his dwelling, he retired. With 
 this act of prudence closes the first night of our 
 tale. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 “ Watch {aside). Some treason, masters— 
 
 Yet stand close.” 
 
 Much Ado about Nothing. 
 
 It was fortunate for more than one of the 
 bacchanalians who left the “ Bold Dragoon ’’ late 
 in the evening, that the severe cold of the season 
 was becoming rapidly less dangerous, as they 
 threaded the different mazes through the snow- 
 banks that led to their respective dwellings. 
 Thin, driving clouds began, toward morning, to 
 flit across the heavens, and the' moon set behind 
 a volume of vapor that was impelled furiouslj 
 toward the north, carrying with it the softer at 
 mosphere from the distant ocean. The rising sun 
 was obscured by denser and increasing columns 
 of clouds, while the southerly wind that rushed 
 up the valley, brought the never-failing symptom* 
 of a thaw. 
 
MR. JONES’S CHRISTMAS BOX 
 
 79 
 
 It was quite late in the morning before Eliza- 
 beth, observing the faint glow which appeared on 
 the eastern mountain, long after the light of the 
 sun had struck the opposite hills, ventured from 
 the house, with a view to gratify her curiosity 
 with a glance by daylight, at the surrounding ob- 
 jects, before the tardy revellers of the Christmas- 
 eve should make their appearance at the break- 
 fast-table. While she was drawing the folds of 
 her pelisse more closely around her form, to guard 
 against a cold that was yet great, though rapidly 
 yielding, in the small inclosure that opened in the 
 rear of the house on a little thicket of low pines, 
 that were springing up where trees of a mightier 
 growth had lately stood, she was surprised at the 
 voice of Mr. Jones. 
 
 “ Merry Christmas, merry Christmas to you, 
 cousin Bess,” he shouted. “ Ah, ha ! an early 
 riser, I see ; but I knew I should steal a march 
 on you. I never was in a house yet where I 
 didn’t get the first Christmas greeting on every 
 soul in it, man, woman, and child ; great and 
 small; black, white, and yellow. But stop a 
 minute, till I can just slip on my coat ; you are 
 about to look at the improvements, I see, which 
 no one can explain so well as I, who planned 
 them all. It will be an hour before ’duke and 
 the major can sleep off Mrs. Hollister’s confound- 
 ed distillations, an I so I’ll come down and go 
 with you.” 
 
 Elizabeth turned, and observed her cousin in 
 his nightcap, with his head out of his bedroom 
 window, where his zeal for preeminence, in defi- 
 ance of the weather, had impelled him to thrust 
 it. She laughed, and, promising to wait for his 
 company, reentered the house, making her ap- 
 pearance again, holding in her hand a packet 
 that was secured by several large and important 
 seals, just in time to meet the gentleman. 
 
 “Come, Bessy, come,” he cried, drawing one 
 of her arms through his own ; “ the snow begins 
 to give, but it will bear us yet. Don’t you snuff 
 old Pennsylvania in the very air ? This is a vile 
 climate, girl ; now at sunset, last evening, it was 
 cold enough to freeze a man’s zeal, and that, I 
 can tell you, takes a thermometer near zero for 
 me ; then about nine or ten it began to moder- 
 ate ; at twelve it was quite mild, and here all the 
 rest of the night I have been so hot as not to 
 bear a blanket on the bed. — Holla ! Aggy — merry 
 Christmas, Aggy— I say, do you hear me, you 
 black dog ! there’s a dollar for you ; and, if the i 
 gentlemen get up before I come back, do you 
 come out and let me know. I wouldn’t have 1 
 'duke get the start of me for the worth of your j 
 aead.’* { 
 
 The black caught the money from the snow, 
 1 and, promising a due degree of watchfulness, he 
 ■ gave the dollar a whirl of twenty feet in the air, 
 i and catching it as it fell; in the palm of his hand, 
 r he withdrew to the kitchen, to exhibit his pres- 
 ent, with a heart as light as his face was happy in 
 its expression. 
 
 “ Oh, rest easy, my dear coz,” said the young 
 lady ; “ I took a look in at my father, who is 
 likely to sleep an hour ; and, by using due vigi- 
 lance, you will secure all the honors of the sea- 
 son.” 
 
 “ Why, ’duke is your father, Elizabeth ; but 
 ’duke is a man who likes to be foremost, even in 
 trifles. Now, as for myself, I care for no such 
 things, except in the way of competition ; for a 
 thing which is of no moment in itself, may be 
 made of importance in the way of competition. 
 So it is with your father— he loves to be first ; but 
 I only struggle with him as a competitor.” 
 
 “It’s all very clear, sir,” said Elizabeth; 
 “ you would not care a fig for distinction if there 
 were no one in the world but yourself ; but as 
 there happen to be a great many others, why, you 
 must struggle with them all— in the way of com- 
 petition.” 
 
 “ Exactly so ; I see you are a clever girl, Bess, 
 and one who does credit to her masters. It was 
 my plan to send you to that school ; for, when 
 your father first mentioned the thing, I wrote a 
 private letter for advice to a judicious friend in 
 the city, who recommended the very school you 
 went to. ’Duke was a little obstinate at first, as 
 usual, but, when he heard the truth, he was 
 obliged to send you.” 
 
 “Well, a truce to ’duke’s foibles, sir; he is 
 my father ; and if you knew what he has been 
 doing for you while we were in Albany, you 
 would deal more tenderly with his character.” 
 
 “For me ! ” cried Richard, pausing a moment 
 in his walk to reflect. “ Oh ! he got the plans of 
 the new Dutch meeting-house for me, I suppose ; 
 but I care very little about it, for a man of a 
 certain kind of talent is seldom aided by any for- 
 eign suggestions : his own brain is the best archi 
 tect.” 
 
 “NoWh thing,” said Elizabeth, looking pro* 
 vokingly knowing. 
 
 “ No ! let me see — perhaps he had my name 
 put in the bill for the new turnpike, as a director.” 
 
 “He might possibly ; but it is not to such an 
 appointment that I alliide.” 
 
 “ Such an appointment ! ” repeated Mr. Jones, 
 who began to fidget with curiosity ; “ then it is 
 an appointment. If it is in the militia, I won’t 
 take it.” 
 
80 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “ No, no, it is not in the militia,” cried Elizabeth, 
 showing the packet in her hand, and then draw- 
 ing it back with a coquettish air ; “ it is an office 
 of both honor and emolument.” 
 
 “ Honor and emolument ! ” echoed Richard, 
 in painful suspense ; “ show me the paper, girl. 
 Say, is it an office where there is any thing to 
 dor ’ 
 
 “ You have hit it, cousin Dickon; it is the 
 executive office of the county ; at least so said 
 my father when be gave me this packet to offer 
 you as a Christmas-box. — ‘Surely if any thing 
 will please Dickon,’ he said, ‘ it will be to fill the 
 executive chair of the county.’ ” 
 
 “Executive chair ! what nonsense ! ” cried the 
 impatient gentleman, snatching the packet from 
 her hand ; “ there is no such office in the county. 
 Eh ! what ! it is, I declare, a commission, appoint- 
 ing Richard Jones, Esquire, sheriff of the coun- 
 ty. Well, this is kind in ’duke, positively. I 
 must say ’duke has a warm heart, and never for- 
 gets his friends. Sheriff! High Sheriff of — ! 
 
 It sounds well, Bess, but it shall execute better. 
 ’Duke is a judicious man after all, and knows 
 human nature thoroughly. I’m much obliged to 
 him,” continued Richard, using the skirt of his 
 coat unconsciously, to wipe his eyes; “though 
 I would do as much for him any day, as he shall 
 see, if I have an opportunity to perform any of 
 the duties of my office on him. It shall be done, 
 cousin Bess — it shall be done, I say. — How this 
 cursed south wind makes one’s eyes water ! ”, 
 
 “Now, Richard,” said the laughing maiden, 
 “Now I think you will find something to do. I 
 have often heard you complain of old, that there 
 was nothing to do in this new country, while to 
 my eyes it seemed as if every thing remained to be 
 done.” 
 
 “ Do ! ” echoed Richard, who blew his nose^ 
 raised his little form to its greatest elevation, and 
 looked serious. , “ Every thing depends on system, 
 girl. I shall sit down this afternoon, and system- 
 atize the county. I must have deputies, you 
 know. I will divide the county into districts, 
 over which I will place my deputies ; and I will 
 have one for the village, which I will call my 
 home department. Let me see — ho ! Benjamin ! 
 yes, Benjamin will make a good deputy ; he has 
 been naturalized, and would answer admirably, if 
 he could only ride on horseback.” 
 
 “ Yes, Mr. Sheriff,” said his companion ; “ and 
 as he understands ropes so well, he would be 
 very expert, should occasion happen for his ser. 
 vices, in another way.” 
 
 “ No,” interrupted the other, “ I flatter myself 
 that no man could hang a man better than — that 
 
 is — ha — oh! yes, Benjamin would do extremely 
 well, in such an unfortunate dilemma, if he could 
 be persuaded to attempt it. But I should despair 
 of the thing. I never could induce him to hang, 
 or teach him to ride on horseback. I must seek 
 another deputy.” 
 
 “Well, sir, as you have abundant leisure for 
 all these important affairs, I beg that you will for- 
 get that you are high sheriff, and devote some 
 little of your time to gallantry. Where are the 
 beauties and improvements which you were to 
 show me?” 
 
 “ Where ? why, everywhere. Here I have laid 
 out some new streets ; and when they are opened, 
 and the trees felled, and they are all built up, will 
 they not make a fine town? Well, ’duke is a 
 liberal-hearted fellow, with all his stubbornness) 
 — Yes, yes, I must have at least four deputies, 
 besides a jailer.” ji 
 
 “ I see no streets in the direction of our walk,” 
 said Elizabeth, “ unless you call the short avenues 
 through these pine-bushes by that name. Surely 
 you do not contemplate building houses, very 
 soon, in that forest before us, and in those 
 swamps.” 
 
 “We must run our streets by the compass, 
 coz, and disregard trees, hills, ponds, stumps, 
 or, in fact, any thing but posterity. Such is the 
 will of your father, and your father, you know — ” 
 
 “Had you made sheriff, Mr. Jones,” inter- 
 rupted the lady, with a tone that said very plainly 
 to the gentleman that he was touching a forbid- 
 den subject. 
 
 “ I know it, I know it,” cried Richard ; “ and, 
 if it were in my power, I’d make ’duke a king. He 
 is a noble-hearted fellow, and would make an 
 excellent king ; that is, if he had a good prime 
 minister. — But who have we here ? voices in the 
 bushes — a combination about mischief, I’ll wager 
 my commission. Let us draw near, and examine 
 a little into the matter.” 
 
 During this dialogue, as the parties had kept 
 in motion, Richard and his cousin advanced some 
 distance from the house, into the open space in 
 the rear of the village, where, as may be gathered 
 from the conversation, streets were planned, and 
 future dwellings contemplated ; but where, in 
 truth, the only mark of improvement that was to 
 be seen, was a neglected clearing along the skirt 
 of a dark forest of mighty pines, over which the 
 bushes or sprouts of the same tree had sprung 
 up, to a height that interspersed the fields of 
 snow with little thickets, of evergreen. The rush- 
 ing of the wind, as it whistled through the tops 
 of these mimic trees, prevented the footsteps of 
 the pair from being heard, while the branohea 
 
TURKEY-SHOOTING. 
 
 81 
 
 concealed their persons. Thus aided, the lis- 
 teners drew nigh to a spot where the young hunt- 
 ter, Leather-stocking, and the Indian chief, were 
 collected in an earnest consultation. The for- 
 mer was urgent in his manner, and seemed to 
 think the subject of deep importance, while Natty 
 appeared to listen, with more than his usual atten- 
 tion, to what the other was saying. Mohegan 
 stood a little on one side, with his head sunken 
 on his chest, his hair falling forward, so as to 
 conceal most of his features, and his whole atti- 
 tude expressive of deep dejection, if not of 
 shame. 
 
 “ Let us withdraw,” whispered Elizabeth ; 
 “ we are intruders, and can have no right to lis- 
 ten to the secrets of these men.” 
 
 “ No right ! ” returned Richard, a little impa- 
 tiently, in the same tone, and drawing her arm so 
 forcibly through his own as to prevent her re- 
 treat ; “ you forget, cousin, that it is my duty to 
 preserve the peace of the county, and see the 
 laws executed. These wanderers frequently com- 
 mit depredations ; though I do not think John 
 would do any thing secretly. Poor fellow ! he 
 was quite boozy last night, and hardly seems to 
 be over it yet. Let us draw nigher, and hear 
 what they say.” 
 
 Notwithstanding the lady’s reluctance, Rich- 
 ard, stimulated doubtless by his nice sense of 
 duty, prevailed ; and they were soon so near as 
 distinctly to hear sounds. 
 
 “The bird must be had,” said Natty, “by fair 
 means or foul. Heigho ! I’ve known the time, 
 lad, when the wild turkeys wasn’t over-scarce in 
 the country ; though you must go into the Yir- 
 giny gaps, if you want them now. To be sure, 
 there is a different taste to a partridge, and a well- 
 fatted turkey ; though, to my eating, beaver’s tail 
 and bear’s hams makes the best of food. But 
 then every one has his own appetite. I gave the 
 last farthing, all to that shilling, to the French 
 trader, this very morning, as I came through the 
 town, for powder ; so, as you have nothing, we 
 can have but one shot for it. I know that Billy 
 Kirby is out, and means to have a pull of the 
 trigger at that very turkey. John has a true eye 
 for a single fire, and, somehow, my hand shakes so 
 whenever I have to do anything extrawnary, that 
 I often lose my aim. Now, when I killed the she- 
 bear this fail, with her cubs, though they were so 
 mighty ravenous, I knocked them over one at a 
 shot, and loaded while I dodged the trees in the 
 bargain; but this is a very different thing, Mr. 
 Oliver.” 
 
 “ This,” cried the young man with an accent 
 that sounded as if he took a bitter pleasure in his 
 
 45 
 
 poverty, while he held a shilling up before his 
 eyes — “this is all the treasure that I possess — 
 this and my rifle ! Now, indeed, I have become a 
 man of the woods, and must place my sole depend- 
 ence on the chase. Come, Natty, let us stake 
 the last penny for the bird ; with your aim, it can- 
 not fail to be successful.” 
 
 “ I would rather it should be John, lad ; my 
 heart jumps into my mouth, because you set your 
 mind so much on’t ; and I’m sartain that I shall 
 miss the bird. Them Indians can shoot one time 
 as well as another ; nothing ever troubles them. 
 I say, John, here’s a shilling ; take my rifle, and 
 get a shot at the big turkey they’ve put up at the 
 stump. Mr. Oliver is over-anxious for the crea- 
 ter, and I’m sure to do nothing when I have over- 
 anxiety about it.” 
 
 The Indian turned his head gloomily, and, 
 after looking keenly for a moment, in profound 
 silence, at his companions, he replied : 
 
 “When John was young, eyesight was not 
 straighter than his bullet. The Mingo squaws 
 cried out at the sound of his rifle. The Mingo 
 warriors were made squaws. When did he ever 
 shoot twice ! The eagle went above the clouds 
 when he passed the wigwam of Chingachgook ; his 
 feathers were plenty with the women. But see,” 
 he said, raising his voice from the low, mournful 
 tones in which he had spoken, to a pitch of keen 
 excitement, and stretching forth both hands— 
 “they shake like a deer at the wolfs howl. Ia 
 John old ? When was a Mohican a squaw, with 
 seventy winters ! No ! the white man brings old 
 age with him — rum is his tomahawk ! ” 
 
 “Why, then, do you use it, old man?” ex- 
 claimed the young hunter; “why will one, so 
 noble by nature, aid the devices of the devil, by 
 making himself a beast ! ” 
 
 “ Beast ! is John a beast ? ” replied the Indian, 
 slowly ; “ yes ; you say no lie, child of the Fire- 
 eater! John is a beast. The smokes were once 
 few in these hills. The deer would lick the hand 
 of a white man, and the birds rest on his head. 
 They were strangers to him. My fathers came 
 from the shores of the salt lake. They fled be- 
 fore rum. They came to their grandfather, and 
 they lived in peace ; or, when they did raise the 
 hatchet, it was to strike it into the brain of & 
 Mingo. They gathered around the council-fire, 
 and what they said was done. Then John was 
 the man. But warriors and traders with light 
 eyes followed them. One brought the long knife, 
 and one brought rum. They were more than the 
 pines on the mountains ; and they broke up the 
 councils, and took the lands. The evil spirit was 
 in their jugs, and they let him loose. Yes, ye$ 
 
82 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 •—you say no lie, Young Eagle ; John is a Chris- 
 tian beast.” 
 
 “ Forgive me, old warrior,” cried the youth, 
 grasping his hand ; “ I should be the last to re- 
 proach you. The curses of Heaven light on the 
 cupidity that has destroyed such a race. Re- 
 member, John, that I am of your family, and it is 
 now my greatest pride.” 
 
 The muscles of Mohegan relaxed a little, and 
 he said, more mildly : 
 
 “ You are a Delaware, my son ; your words are 
 not heard — John cannot shoot.” 
 
 “ I thought that lad had Indian blood in him,” 
 whispered Richard, “by the awkward way he 
 handled my horses last night. You see, coz, they 
 never use harness. But the poor fellow shall 
 have two shots at the turkey, if he wants it, for 
 I’ll give him another shilling myself; though, 
 perhaps, I had better offer to shoot for him. 
 They have got up their Christinas sports, I find, 
 in the bushes yonder, where you hear the laugh- 
 ter — though it is a queer taste this chap has for 
 turkey ; not but what it is good eating, too.” 
 
 “ Hold, cousin Richard,” exclaimed Elizabeth, 
 clinging to his arm, “ would it be delicate to of- 
 fer a shilling to that gentleman ? ” 
 
 “ Gentleman again ! do you think a half-breed, 
 like him, will refuse money? No, no, girl, he 
 will take the shilling ; ay ! and even rum too, 
 notwithstanding he moralizes so much about it. 
 But I’ll give the lad a chance for his turkey ; 
 for that Billy Kirby is one of the best marks- 
 men in the country ; that is, if we except the 
 — the gentleman.” 
 
 “ Then,” said Elizabeth, who found her 
 strength unequal to her will, “ then, sir, I will 
 speak.” She advanced, with an air of deter- 
 mination, in front of her cousin, and entered 
 the little circle of bushes that surrounded the trio 
 of hunters. Her appearance startled the youth, 
 who at first made an unequivocal motion toward 
 retiring, but, recollecting himself, bowed, by lift- 
 ing his cap, and resumed his attitude of leaning 
 on his rifle. Neither Natty nor Mohegan betrayed 
 any emotion, though the appearance of Elizabeth 
 was co entirely unexpected. 
 
 41 1 find,” she said, “ that the old Christmas 
 sport of shooting the turkey is yet in use among 
 you. I feel inclined to try my chance for a bird. 
 Which of you will take this money, and, after 
 paying my fee, give me the aid of his rifle ? ” 
 
 “ Is this a sport for a lady ? ” exclaimed the 
 young hunter, with an emphasis that could not 
 well be mistaken, and with a rapidity that showed 
 he spoke without consulting any thing but feel- 
 ing. 
 
 “ Why not, sir ? If it be inhuman, the sin is 
 not confined to one sex only. But I have my hu- 
 mor as well as others. I ask not your assistance ; 
 but” — turning to Natty, and dropping a dollar 
 in his hand — “ this old veteran of the forest will 
 not be so ungallant as to refuse one fire for a 
 lady.” 
 
 Leather-stocking dropped the money into his 
 pouch, and, throwing up the end of his rifle, he 
 freshened his priming ; and, first laughing in his 
 usual manner, he threw the piece over his shoul- 
 der, and said : 
 
 “ If Billy Kirby don’t get the bird before me, 
 and the Frenchman’s powder don’t hang fire this 
 damp morning, you’ll see as fine a turkey dead, 
 in a few minutes, as ever was eaten in the Judge’s 
 shanty. I have know’d the Dutch women, on the 
 Mohawk and Schoharie, count greatly on coming 
 to the merry-makings ; and so, lad, you shouldn’t 
 be short with the lady. Come, let us go forward, 
 for, if we wait, the finest bird will be gone.” 
 
 “ But I have a right before you, Natty, and 
 shall try my own luck first. You will excuse me, 
 Miss Temple; I have much reason to wish that bird, 
 and may seem ungallant, but I must claim my 
 privileges.” 
 
 “ Claim any thing that is justly your own, sir,” 
 returned the lady; “we are both adventurers; 
 and this is my knight. I trust my fortune to his 
 hand and eye. Lead on, Sir Leather-stocking, 
 and we will follow.” 
 
 Natty, who seemed pleased with the frank 
 address of the young and beauteous Elizabeth, 
 who had so singularly intrusted him with such a 
 commission, returned the bright smile with which 
 she had addressed him, by his own peculiar mark 
 of mirth, and moved across the snow, toward the 
 spot whence the sounds of boisterous mirth pro- 
 ceeded, with the long strides of a hunter. Hia 
 companions followed in silence, the youth casting 
 frequent and uneasy glances toward Elizabeth, 
 who was detained by a motion from Richard. 
 
 “ I should think, Miss Temple,” he said, so 
 soon as the others were out of hearing, “ that if 
 you really wished a turkey, you would not have 
 taken a stranger for the office, and such a one as 
 Leather-stocking. But I can hardly believe that 
 you are serious, for I have fifty, at this moment, 
 shut up in the coops, in every stage of fat, so that 
 you might choose any quality you pleased. There 
 are six that I am trying an experiment on, by 
 giving them brick-bats with — ” 
 
 “ Enough, cousin Dickon,” interrupted the 
 lady ; “ I do wish the bird, and it is because I so 
 wish, that I commissioned this Mr. Leather-stock 
 ing.” 
 
BILLY KIRBY, THE WOOD-CHOPPER. 
 
 83 
 
 “ Did you ever hear of the great shot that I 
 made at the wolf, cousin Elizabeth, who was car- 
 rying off your father’s sheep ? ” said Richard, 
 drawing himself up into an air of displeasure. 
 “ He had the sheep on his back ; and, had the 
 head of the wolf been on the other side, I should 
 have killed him dead ; as it was — ” 
 
 “ You killed the sheep — I know it all, dear 
 coz. But would it have been decorous for the 
 
 High Sheriff of to mingle in such sports as 
 
 these ? ” 
 
 “ Surely you did not think that I intended 
 actually to fire with my own hands ? ” said Mr. 
 Jones. “ But let us follow, and see the shooting. 
 There is no fear of any thing unpleasant occur- 
 ring to a female in this new country, especially 
 to your father’s daughter, and in my presence.” 
 
 “ My father’s daughter fears nothing, sir, more 
 especially when escorted by the highest executive 
 officer in the county.” 
 
 She took his arm, and he led her through the 
 mazes of the bushes to the spot where most of the 
 young men of the village were collected for the 
 sports of shooting a Christmas match, and whith- 
 er Natty and his companions had already preced- 
 ed them. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 “ I guess, by all this quaint array. 
 
 The burghers hold their sports to-day.” 
 
 Scott. 
 
 The ancient amusement of shooting the Christ- 
 mas turkey is one of the few sports that the set- 
 tlers of a new country seldom or never neglect to 
 observe. It was connected with the daily prac- 
 tices of a people who often laid aside the axe or 
 the scythe to seize the rifle, as the deer glided 
 through the forests they were felling, or the bear 
 entered their rough meadows to scent the air of a 
 clearing, and to scan, with a look of sagacity, the 
 progress of the invader. 
 
 On the present occasion, the usual amuse- 
 ment of the day had been a little hastened, in or- 
 der to allow a fair opportunity to Mr. Grant, 
 whose exhibition was not less a treat to the 
 young sportsmen than the one which engaged 
 their present attention. The owner of the birds 
 was a free black, who had prepared for the occa- 
 sion a collection of game that was admirably qual- 
 ified to inflame the appetite of an epicure, and 
 was well adapted to the means and skill of the 
 different competitors, who were of all ages. He 
 had offered to the younger and more humble 
 marksmen divers birds of an inferior quality, and 
 some shooting had already taken place, much to 
 
 the pecuniary advantage of the sable owner of the 
 game. The order of the sports was extremely 
 simple, and well understood. The bird was fast 
 ened by a string to the stump of a large pine, the 
 side of which, toward the point where the marks • 
 men were placed, had been flattened with an axe, 
 in order that it might serve the purpose of a tar- 
 get by which the merit of each individual might 
 be ascertained. The distance between the stump 
 and shooting-stand was one hundred measured 
 yards : a foot more or a foot less being thought 
 an invasion of the right of one of the parties. 
 The negro affixed his own price to every bird, 
 and the terms of the chance ; but, when these 
 were once established, he was obliged, by the strict 
 principles of public justice that prevailed in the 
 country, to admit any adventurer who might offer. 
 
 The throng consisted of some twenty or thirty 
 young men, most of whom had rifles, and a col- 
 lection of all the boys in the village. The little 
 urchins, clad in coarse but warm garments, stood 
 gathered around the more distinguished marks- 
 men, with their hands stuck under their waist- 
 bands, listening eagerly to the boastful stories 
 of skill that had been exhibited on former occa- 
 sions, and were already emulating in their hearts 
 these wonderful deeds in gunnery. 
 
 The chief speaker was the man who had been 
 mentioned by Natty as Billy Kirby. This fellow, 
 whose occupation, when he did labor, was that 
 of clearing lands, or chopping jobs, was of great 
 stature, and carried, in his very air, the index 
 of his character. He was a noisy, boisterous, 
 reckless lad, whose good-natured eye contradicted 
 the bluntness and bullying tenor of his speech. 
 For weeks he would lounge around the taverns 
 of the county, in a state of perfect idleness, or 
 doing small jobs for his liquor and his meals, and 
 cavilling with applicants about the prices of his 
 labor : frequently preferring idleness to an abate- 
 ment of a tittle of his independence, or a cent in 
 his wages. But, when these embarrassing points 
 were satisfactorily arranged, he would shoulder 
 his axe and his rifle, slip his arms through the 
 straps of his pack, and enter the woods with the 
 tread of a Hercules. His first object was to 
 learn his limits, round which he would pace, oc- 
 casionally freshening, with a blow of his axe, the 
 marks on the boundary trees ; and then he would 
 proceed, with an air of great deliberation, to the 
 centre of his premises, and, throwing aside his 
 superfluous garments, measure, with a knowing 
 eye, one or two of the nearest trees that were 
 towering apparently into the very clouds as he 
 gazed upward. Commonly selecting one of the 
 most noble for the first trial of his power, be 
 
84 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 wou_i approach it with a listless air, whistling a 1 
 low tune ; and wielding his axe with a certain i 
 flourish, not unlike the salutes of a fencing-mas- 1 
 ter, he would strike a light blow into the bark, 
 and measure his distance. The pause that fol- 1 
 lowed was ominous of the fall of the forest which 
 had flourished there for centuries. The heavy 
 and brisk blows that he struck were soon suc- 
 ceeded by the thundering report of the tree, as 
 it came, first cracking and threatening, with the 
 separation of its own last ligaments, then thresh- 
 ing and tearing with its branches the tops of its 
 surrounding brethren, and finally meeting the 
 ground with a shock but little inferior to an earth- 
 quake. From that moment the sounds of the 
 axe were ceaseless, while the falling of the trees 
 was like a distant cannonading ; and the daylight 
 broke into the depths of the woods with the sud- 
 denness of a winter morning. 
 
 For days, weeks, nay months, Bill Kirby would 
 toil with an ardor that evinced his native spirit, 
 and with an effect that seemed magical, until, his 
 chopping being ended, his stentorian lungs could 
 be heard emitting sounds, as he called to his 
 patient oxen, which rang through the hills like 
 the cries of an alarm. He had been often heard, 
 on a mild summer’s evening, a long mile across 
 the vale of Templeton ; when the echoes from 
 the mountains would take up his cries, until they 
 died away in feeble sounds from the distant rocks 
 that overhung the lake. His piles, or to use the 
 language of the country, his logging, ended, with 
 a dispatch that could only accompany his dex- 
 terity and Herculean strength, the jobber would 
 collect together his implements of labor, light 
 the heaps of timber, and march away under the 
 blaze of the prostrate forest, like the conqueror 
 of some city, who, having first prevailed over his 
 adversary, applies the torch as the finishing blow 
 to his conquest. For a long time Billy Kirby 
 would then be seen, sauntering around the tav- 
 erns, the rider of scrub-races, the bully of cock- 
 fights, and not unfrequently the hero of such 
 sports as the one in hand. 
 
 Between him and the Leather-stocking, there 
 had long existed a jealous rivalry on the point of 
 skill with the rifle. Notwithstanding the long prac- 
 tice of Natty, it was commonly supposed that the 
 steady nerves and quick eye of the wood-chopper 
 rendered him his equal. The competition had, 
 however, been confined hitherto to boastings, and 
 comparisons made from their success in various 
 hunting-excursions ; but this was the first time 
 that they had ever* come in open collision. A 
 good deal of higgling about the price of the 
 choicest bird had taken place between Billy Kir- 
 
 by and its owner before Natty and his Compaq 
 ions rejoined the sportsmen. It had, however, 
 been settled at one shilling * a shot, which was 
 the highest sum ever exacted, the black taking 
 care to protect himself from losses, as much as 
 possible, by the conditions of the sport. The 
 turkey was already fastened at the “ mark,” but 
 its body was entirely hid by the surrounding 
 snow, nothing being visible but its red swelling 
 head and its long neck. If the bird was injured 
 by any bullet that struck below the snow, it was 
 to continue the property of its present owner ; 
 but, if a feather was touched in a visible part, 
 the animal became the prize of the successful 
 adventurer. 
 
 These terms were loudly proclaimed by the 
 negro, who was seated in the snow, in a some- 
 what hazardous vicinity to his favorite bird, when 
 Elizabeth and her cousin approached the noisy 
 sportsmen. The sounds of mirth and contention 
 sensibly lowered at this unexpected visit; but, 
 after a moment’s pause, the curious interest ex- 
 hibited in the face of the young lady, together 
 with her smiling air, restored the freedom of the 
 morning; though it was somewhat chastened, 
 both in language and vehemence, by the presence 
 of such a spectator. 
 
 “ Stand out of the way there, boys ! ” cried 
 the wood-chopper, who was placing himself at 
 the shooting-point — “ stand out of the way, you 
 little rascals, or I will shoot through you. Now, 
 Brom, take leave of your turkey.” 
 
 “ Stop ! ” cried the young hunter ; “lam a 
 candidate for a chance. Here is my shilling, 
 Brom ; I wish a shot too.” 
 
 “You may wish it in welcome,” cried Kirby, 
 “ but if I ruffle the gobbler’s feathers, how are 
 you to get it ? Is money so plenty in your deer- 
 skin pocket, that you pay for a chance that you 
 may never have ? ” 
 
 “ How know you, sir, how plenty money is in 
 my pocket ? ” said the youth, fiercely. “ Here is 
 my shilling, Brom, and I claim a right to shoot.” 
 
 “ Don’t be crabbed, my boy,” said the other, 
 who was very coolly fixing his flint. “ They say 
 you have a hole in your left shoulder, yourself : 
 so I think Brom may give you a fire for half 
 , price. It will take a keen one to hit that bird, 
 . I can tell you, my lad, even if I give you a chance, 
 which is what I have no mind to do.” 
 
 * Before the Revolution, each province had its own 
 money of account, though neither coined any but copper 
 pieces. In New York the Spanish dollar was divided into 
 eight shillings, each of the value of a fraction more than 
 sixpence sterling. At present the Union haa provided a 
 decimal system, with coins to represent it. 
 
MISS TEMPLE’S CHAMPION. 
 
 85 
 
 “Don’t be boasting, Billy Kirby,” said Natty, 
 throwing the breech of his rifle into the snow, 
 and leaning on its barrel ; “ you’ll get but one 
 shot at the creater, for if the lad misses his aim, 
 which wouldn’t be a wonder if he did, with his 
 arm so stiff and sore, you’ll find a good piece and 
 an old eye coming a’ ter you. Maybe it’s true 
 that I can’t shoot as I used to could, but a hun- 
 dred yards is a short distance for a long rifle.” 
 
 “What, old Leather-stocking, are you out 
 this morning ? ” cried his reckless opponent. 
 “Well, fair play’s a jewel. I’ve the lead of you, 
 old fellow ; so here goes for a dry throat or a 
 good dinner.” 
 
 The countenance of the negro evinced not 
 only all the interest which his pecuniary adven- 
 ture might occasion, but also the keen excitement 
 that the sport produced in the others, though 
 with a very different wish as to the result. While 
 the wood-chopper was slowly and steadily raising 
 his rifle, he bawled : 
 
 “ Fair play, Billy Kirby — stand back — make 
 ’em stand back, boys — gib a nigger fair play — 
 poss-up gobbler ; £hake a head, fool ; don’t you 
 see ’em taking aim ? ” 
 
 These cries, which were intended as much to 
 distract the attention of the marksman as for any 
 thing else, were fruitless. 
 
 The nerves of the wood-chopper were not so 
 easily shaken, and he took his aim with the utmost 
 deliberation. Stillness prevailed for a moment, 
 and he fired. The head of the turkey was seen to 
 dash on one side, and its wings were spread in mo- 
 mentary fluttering ; but it settled itself down calm- 
 ly into its bed of snow, and glanced its eyes uneasily 
 around. For a time long enough to draw a deep 
 breath, not a sound was heard. The silence was 
 then broken by the noise of the negro, who laughed, 
 and shook his body, with all kinds of antics, rolling 
 over in the snow in the excess of delight. 
 
 “ Well done a gobbler,” he cried, jumping up 
 and affecting to embrace his bird ; “ I tell ’em to 
 poss-up, and you see ’em dodge. Gib anoder 
 shillin, Billy, and hab anoder shot.” 
 
 “No — the shot is mine,” said the young hunt- 
 er ; “ you have my money already. Leave the 
 mark, and let me try my luck.” 
 
 “ Ah ! it’s but money thrown away, lad,” 
 said Leather-stocking. “A turkey’s head and 
 neck is but a small mark for a new hand and a 
 lame shoulder. You’d best let me take the fire, 
 and maybe we can make some settlement with the 
 lady about the bird.” 
 
 “ The chance is mine,” said the young hunter. 
 “ Clear the ground, that I may take it.” 
 
 The discussions and disputes concerning the 
 
 last shot were now abating, it having been deter- 
 mined that if the turkey’s head had been any- 
 where but just where it was at the moment, the 
 bird must certainly have been killed. There was 
 not much excitement produced by the prepara- 
 tions of the youth, who proceeded in a hurried 
 manner to take his aim, and was in the act of pull- 
 ing the trigger, when he was stopped by Natty. 
 
 “ Your hand shakes, lad,” he said, “ and you 
 seem over-eager. Bullet wounds are apt to weaken 
 flesh, and to my judgment you’ll not shoot so well 
 as in common. If you will fire, you should shoot 
 quick, before there is time to shake off the aim.” 
 
 “ Fair play,” again shouted the negro ; “ fair 
 play — gib a nigger fair play. What right a Nat 
 Bumppo advise a young man ? Let ’em shoot — 
 clear a ground.” 
 
 The youth fired with great rapidity, but no 
 motion was made by the turkey ; and, when the 
 examiners for the ball returned from the “ mark,” 
 they declared that he had missed the stump. 
 
 Elizabeth observed the change in his counte- 
 nance, and could not help feeling surprise, that 
 one so evidently superior to his companions should 
 feel a trifling loss so sensibly. But her own cham- 
 pion was now preparing to enter the lists. 
 
 The mirth of Brom, which had been again ex- 
 cited, though in a much smaller degree than be- 
 fore, by the failure of the second adventurer, van- 
 ished the instant Natty took his stand. His skin 
 became mottled with large brown spots, that 
 fearfully sullied the lustre of his native ebony, 
 while his enormous lips gradually compressed 
 around two rows of ivory that had hitherto been 
 shining in his visage, like pearls set in jet. Hts 
 nostrils, at all times the most conspicuous features 
 of his face, dilated, until they covered the greater 
 part of the diameter of his countenance ; while 
 his brown and bony hands unconsciously grasped 
 the snow-crust near him, the excitement of the 
 moment completely overcoming his native dread 
 of cold. 
 
 While these indications of apprehension were 
 exhibited in the sable owner of the turkey, the 
 man who gave rise to this extraordinary emotion 
 was as calm and collected as if there was not to 
 be a single spectator of his skill. 
 
 “ I was down in the Dutch settlements on the 
 Schoharie,” said Natty, carefully removing the 
 leather guard from the lock of his rifle, “just be- 
 •fore the breaking out of the last war, and there 
 was a shooting-match among the boys ; so I took 
 a hand. I think I opened a good many Dutch 
 eyes that day ; for I won the powder-horn, three 
 bars of lead, and a pound of as good powder as 
 ever flashed in pan. Lord ! how they did swear 
 
86 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 in Jarman 1 They did tell me of one drunken 
 Dutchman who said he’d have the life of me be- 
 fore I got back to the lake ag’in. But if he had 
 put his rifle to his shoulder with evil intent God 
 would have punished him for it ; and even if the 
 Lord didn’t, and he had missed his aim, I know 
 one that would have given him as good as he 
 Bent, and better too, if good shooting could come 
 into the ’count.” 
 
 By this time the old hunter was ready for his 
 business, and throwing his right leg far behind 
 him, and stretching his left arm along the barrel 
 of his piece, he raised it toward the bird. Every 
 eye glanced rapidly from the marksman to the 
 mark ; but at the moment when each ear was ex- 
 pecting the report of the rifle, they were disap- 
 pointed by the ticking sound of the flint. 
 
 “ A snap, a snap ! ” shouted the negro, spring- 
 ing from his crouching posture like a madman, 
 before his bird. “A snap good as fire— Natty 
 Bumppo gun he snap — Natty Bumppo miss a tur- 
 key!” 
 
 “ Natty Bumppo hit a nigger,” said the indig- 
 nant old hunter, “ if you don’t get out of the way, 
 Brom It’s contrary to the reason of the thing, 
 boy that a snap should count for a fire, when one 
 is nothing more than a fire-stone striking a steel 
 pan, and the other is sudden death ; so get out 
 of my way, boy, and let me show Billy Kirby how 
 to shoot a Christmas turkey.” 
 
 « Gib a nigger fair play ! ” cried the black, 
 who continued resolutely to maintain his post, 
 and making that appeal to the justice of his au- 
 ditors, which the degraded condition of his caste 
 so naturally suggested. “ Ebery body know dat 
 snap as good as fire. Leab it to Massa Jone 
 leab it to lady.” 
 
 “ Sartain,” said the wood-chopper ; “ it’s the 
 law of the game in this part of the country, Leath- 
 er-stocking. If you fire ag’in you must pay 
 up the other shilling. I b’lieve I’ll try luck once 
 more myself; so Brom, here’s my money, and I 
 take the next fire.” 
 
 “ It’s likely you know the laws of the woods 
 better than I do, Billy Kirby,” returned Natty. 
 « you come in with the settlers, with an ox-goad 
 in your hand, and I come in with moccasins on 
 my feet, and with a good rifle on my shoulders, so 
 long back as afore the old war. Which is likely 
 to know the best ? I say no man need tell me 
 that snapping is as good as firing when I pull the 
 trigger.” 
 
 “Leab it to Massa Jone,” said the alarmed 
 negro ; “ he know ebery ting.” 
 
 This appeal to the knowledge of Richard was 
 too flattering to be unheeded. He therefore ad- 
 
 vanced a little from the spot whither the delicacy 
 of Elizabeth had induced her to withdiaw, and 
 gave the following opinion, with the gravity that 
 the subject and his own rank demanded : 
 
 “ There seems to be a difference in opinion,” he 
 said, “ on the subject of Nathaniel Bumppo’s right 
 to shoot at Abraham Freeborn’s turkey without 
 the said Nathaniel paying one shilling for the 
 privilege.” This fact was too evident to be denied, 
 and after pausing a moment, that the audience 
 might digest his premises, Richard proceeded. 
 
 “ It seems proper that I should decide this ques- 
 tion, as I am bound to preserve the peace of the 
 county ; and men with deadly weapons in their 
 hands should not be heedlessly left to contention, 
 and their own malignant passions. It appears 
 that there was no agreement, either in writing 
 or in words* on the disputed point ; therefore 
 we must reason from analogy, which is, as it were, 
 comparing one thing with another. Now, in 
 duels, where both parties shoot, it is generally 
 the rule that a snap is a fire ; and if such is the 
 rule, where the party has a right to fire back 
 again, it seems to me unreasonable to say, that a 
 man may stand snapping at a defenceless turk^.. 
 all day. I therefore am of opinion that Nathan- 
 iel Bumppo has lost his chance, and must pay 
 another shilling before he renews his right.” 
 
 As this opinion came from so high a quarter, 
 and was delivered with effect, it silenced all mur- 
 mur s — for the whole of the spectators had begun 
 to take sides with great warmth— except from 
 the Leather-stocking himself. 
 
 “ I think Miss Elizabeth’s thoughts should be 
 taken,” said Natty. “I’ve known the squaws 
 give very good counsel when the Indians have 
 been dumfounded. If she says that I ought to 
 lose, I agree to give it up.” 
 
 “ Then I adjudge you to be a loser for this 
 time,” said Miss Temple ; “ but pay your money 
 and renew your chance ; unless Brom will sell me 
 the bird for a dollar. I will give him the money, 
 and save the life of the poor victim.” 
 
 This proposition was evidently but little rel- 
 ished by any of the listeners, even the negro feel- 
 ing the evil excitement of the chances. In the 
 mean while, as Billy Kirby was preparing himself 
 for another shot, Natty left the stand, with an ex- 
 tremely dissatisfied manner, muttering : 
 
 “ There hasn’t been such a thing as a good 
 flint sold at the foot of the lake since the Indian 
 traders used to come into the country : and, if * 
 body should go into the flats along the streams in 
 the hills to hunt for such a thing, it’s ten to one 
 but they will be all covered up with the plough. 
 I Heigho ! it seems to me that iust as the game 
 
LEATHER-STOCKING’S SUCCESSFUL SHOT. 
 
 87 
 
 grows scarce, and a body wants the best ammuni- 
 tion to get a livelihood, every thing that’s bad falls 
 on hi n like a judgment. But I’ll change the 
 stone, for Billy Kirby hasn’t the eye for such a 
 mark, I know. ' 
 
 The wood-chopper seemed now entirely sensi- 
 ble that his reputation depended on his care ; nor 
 did he neglect any means to insure success. He 
 drew up his rifle, and renewed his aim again and 
 again, still appearing reluctant to fire. No sound 
 was heard from even Brom, during these porten- 
 tous movements, until Kirby discharged his piece, 
 with the same want of success as before. Then, 
 indeed, the shouts of the negro rang through the 
 bushes, and sounded among the trees of the neigh- 
 boring forest like the outcries of a tribe of In- 
 dians. He laughed, rolling his head first on one 
 side, then on the other, until Nature seemed ex- 
 hausted with mirth. He danced until his legs 
 were wearied with motion in the snow ; and, in 
 short, he exhibited all that violence of joy that 
 characterizes the mirth of a thoughtless negro. 
 
 The wood-chopper had exerted all his art, and 
 felt a proportionate degree of disappointment at 
 the failure. H* first examined the bird with 
 the utmost attention, and more than once sug- 
 gested that he had touched its feathers ; but the 
 voice of the multitude was against him, for it felt 
 disposed to listen to the often-repeated cries of 
 the black, to “ gib a nigger fair play.” 
 
 Finding it impossible to make out a title to 
 the bird, Kirby turned fiercely to the black and 
 said : 
 
 “ Shut your oven, you crow ! Where i3 the 
 man that can bit a turkey’s head at a hundred 
 yards? I was a fool for trying. You needn’t 
 make an uproar, like a falling pine-tree, about it. 
 Show me the man who can do it.” 
 
 “ Look this a-way, Billy Kirby,” said Leather- 
 stocking, “ and let them clear the mark, and I’ll 
 show you a man who’s made better shots afore 
 now, and that when he’s been hard pressed by the 
 savages and wild beasts.” 
 
 “ Perhaps there is one whose rights come be- 
 fore ours, Leather-stocking,” said Miss Temple ; 
 “ if so, we will waive our privilege.” 
 
 “If it be me that you have reference to,” 
 said the young hunter, “I shall decline another 
 chance. My shoulder is yet weak, I find.” 
 
 Elizabeth regarded his manner, and thought 
 that she could discern a tinge on his cheek that 
 spoke the shame of conscious poverty. She said 
 no more, but suffered her own champion to make 
 a trial. Although Natty Bumppo had certainly 
 made hundreds of more momentous shots at his 
 enemies or his game, yet he never exerted him- 
 
 self more to excel. He raised his piece three sev 
 eral times ; once to get his range ; once to calcu- 
 late his distance; and once because the bird, 
 alarmed by the death-like stillness, turned its head 
 quickly to examine its foes. But the fourth timt 
 he fired. The smoke, the report, and the momen 
 tary shock, prevented most of the spectators from 
 instantly knowing the result ; but Elizabeth, when 
 she saw her champion drop the end of his rifle in 
 the snow and open his mouth in one of its silent 
 laughs, and then proceed very coolly to recharge 
 his piece, knew that he had been successful. The 
 boys rushed to the mark, and lifted the turkey on 
 high, lifeless, and with nothing but the remnant 
 of a head. 
 
 “ Bring in the creater,” said Leather-stocking, 
 “ and put it at the feet of the lady. I was her 
 deputy in the matter, and the bird is her prop- 
 erty.” 
 
 “ And a good deputy you have proved your- 
 self,” returned Elizabeth — “ so good, cousin Rich- 
 ard, that I would advise you to remember his 
 qualities.” She paused, and the gayety that 
 beamed on her face gave place to a more serious 
 earnestness. She even blushed a little as she 
 turned to the young hunter, and, with the charm 
 of a woman’s manner, added — “ But it was only 
 to see an exhibition of the far-famed skill of 
 Leather-stocking, that I tried my fortunes. Will 
 you, sir, accept the bird as a small peace-offering 
 for the hurt that prevented your own success ? ” 
 
 The expression with which the youth received 
 this present was indescribable. He appeared to 
 yield to the blandishment of her air, in opposition 
 to a strong inward impulse to the contrary. He 
 bowed, and raised the victim silently from her 
 feet, but continued silent. 
 
 Elizabeth handed the black a piece of silver 
 as a remuneration for his loss, which had some 
 effect in again unbending his muscles, and then 
 expressed to her companion her readiness to re- 
 turn homeward. 
 
 “ Wait a minute, cousin Bess,” cried Richard ; 
 “ there is an uncertainty about the rules of this 
 sport that it is proper I should remove. If you 
 will appoint a committee, gentlemen, to wait on 
 me this morning, I will draw up in writing a set 
 of regulations — ” He stopped, with some indig- 
 nation, for at that instant a hand was laid famil- 
 iarly on the shoulder of the High Sheriff of 
 
 “ A merry Christmas to you, cousin Dickon,” 
 said Judge Temple, who had approached the party 
 unperceived : “ I must have a vigilant eye to my 
 daughter, sir, if you are to be seized daily with 
 these gallant fits. I admire the taste wnich would 
 introduce a lady to such scenes ! ” 
 
88 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “ It is her own- perversity, ’duke,” cried the 
 disappointed sheriff, who felt the loss of the first 
 salutation as grievously as many a man would a 
 much greater misfortune ; “ and I must say that 
 she comes honestly by it. I led her out to show 
 her the improvements, but away she scampered, 
 through the snow, at the first sound of fire-arms, 
 the same as if she had been brought up in a 
 camp, instead of a first-rate boarding-school. I 
 do think, Judge Temple, that such dangerous 
 amusements should be suppressed by statute ; 
 nay, I doubt whether they are not already indict- 
 able at common law.” 
 
 “Well, sir, as you are sheriff of the county, 
 it becomes your duty to examine into the mat- 
 ter,” returned the smiling Marmaduke. “ I per- 
 ceive that Bess has executed her commission, and 
 I hope it met with a favorable reception.” Rich- 
 ard glanced his eye at the packet which he held 
 in his hand, and the slight anger produced by 
 disappointment vanished instantly. 
 
 “ Ah ! ’duke, my dear cousin,” he said, “ step 
 a little on one side ; I have something I would 
 say to you.” Marmaduke complied, and the 
 sheriff led him to a little distance in the bushes, 
 and continued— “ First, ’duke, let me thank you 
 for your friendly interest with the Council and 
 the Governor, without which, I am confident that 
 the greatest merit would avail but little. But we 
 are sisters’ children — we are sisters’ children ; 
 and you may use me like one of your horses ; 
 ride me or drive me, ’duke, I am wholly yours. 
 But in my humble opinion, this young companion 
 of Leather-stocking requires looking after. He 
 has a very dangerous propensity for turkey.” 
 
 “Leave him to my management, Dickon,” 
 said the Judge, “ and I will cure his appetite by 
 indulgence. It is with him that I would speak. 
 Let us rejoin the sportsmen.” 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 “ Poor wretch 1 the mother that him bare, 
 
 If she had been in presence there, 
 
 In his wan face, and sunburnt hair, 
 
 She had not known her child.” 
 
 Scott. 
 
 It diminished, in no degree, the effect pro- 
 duced by the conversation which passed be- 
 tween Judge Temple and the young hunter, that 
 the former took the arm of his daughter and drew 
 it through his own, when he advanced from the 
 spot whither Richard had led him to that where 
 the youth was standing, leaning on his rifle, and 
 contemplating the dead bird at his feet. The 
 
 presence of Marmaduke did not interrupt th* 
 sports, which were resumed, by loud and clamor- 
 ous disputes concerning the conditions of a chance 
 that involved the life of a bird of much inferior 
 quality to the last. Leather-stocking and Mohe- 
 gan had alone drawn aside to their youthful com- 
 panion ; and, although in the immediate vicinity 
 of such a throng,- the following conversation wag 
 heard only by those who were interested in it. 
 
 “ I have greatly injured you, Mr. Edwards,” said 
 the Judge ; but the sudden and inexplicable start, 
 with which the person spoken to received this un- 
 expected address, caused him to pause a moment. 
 As no answer was given, and the strong emotion 
 exhibited in the countenance of the youth gradu- 
 ally passed away, he continued — “ But fortunate- 
 ly it is in some measure in my power to compen- 
 sate you for what I have done. My kinsman, 
 Richard Jones, has received an appointment that 
 will, in future, deprive me of his assistance, and 
 leave me, just now, destitute of one who might 
 greatly aid me with his pen. Your manner, not- 
 withstanding appearances, is a sufficient proof of 
 your education, nor will thy shoulder suffer thee 
 to labor, for some time to come.” (Marmaduke 
 insensibly relapsed into the language of the 
 Friends as he grew warm.) “ My doors are open 
 to thee, my young friend, for in this infant coun- 
 try we harbor no suspicions : little offering to 
 tempt the cupidity of the evil disposed. Become 
 my assistant, for at least a season, and receive 
 such compensation as thy services will deserve.” 
 
 There was nothing in the manner or the offer 
 of the Judge to justify the reluctance, amounting 
 nearly to loathing, with which the youth listened 
 to his speech : but, after a powerful effort for self- 
 command, he replied : 
 
 “ I would serve you, sir, or any other man, for 
 an honest support, for I do not affect to conceal 
 that my necessities are very great, even beyond 
 what appearances would indicate ; but I am fear- 
 ful that such new duties would interfere too much 
 with more important business : so that I must 
 decline your offer, and depend on my rifle, as be- 
 fore, for subsistence.” 
 
 Richard here took occasion to whisper to the 
 young lady, who had shrunk a little from the 
 foreground of the picture : 
 
 « This, you see, cousin Bess, is the natural re- 
 luctance of a half-breed to leave the savage state. 
 Their attachment to a wandering life is, I verily 
 believe, unconquerable.” 
 
 “It is a precarious life,” observed Marma- 
 duke, without hearing the sheriff’s observation, 
 « and one that brings more evils with it than pres* 
 ent suffering. Trust me, young friend, my e* 
 
JUDGE TEMPLE’S NEW SECRETARY. 
 
 89 
 
 perience is greater than thine, when I tell thee, 
 that the unsettled life of these hunters is of vast 
 disadvantage for temporal purposes, and it total- 
 ly removes one from the influence of more sacred 
 things.” 
 
 “No, no, Judge,” interrupted the Leather- 
 stocking, who was hitherto unseen, or disregard- 
 ed ; “ take him into your shanty in welcome, but 
 tell him truth. I have lived in the woods for for- 
 ty long years, and have spent five at a time with- 
 out seeing the light of a clearing bigger than a 
 windrow in the trees ; and I should like to know 
 where you’ll find a man, in his sixty-eighth year, 
 who can get an easier living, for all your better- 
 ments and your deer-laws : and, as for honesty, or 
 doing what’s right between man and man, I’ll not 
 turn my back to the longest-winded deacon on 
 your Patent.” 
 
 “Thou art an exception, Leather-stocking,” 
 returned the Judge, nodding good-naturedly at 
 the hunter ; “ for thou hast a temperance unusu- 
 al in thy class, and a hardihood exceeding thy 
 years. But this youth is made of materials too 
 precious to be wasted in the forest. — I entreat 
 thee to join my family, if it be but till thy arm be 
 healed. My daughter here, who is mistress of 
 my dwelling, will tell thee that thou art wel- 
 come.” 
 
 “Certainly,” said Elizabeth, whose earnest- 
 ness was a little checked by female reserve. 
 “ The unfortunate would be welcome at any time, 
 but doubly so when we feel that we have occa- 
 sioned the evil ourselves.” 
 
 “Yes,” said Richard, “and if you relish tur- 
 key, young man, there are plenty in the coops^ 
 and of the best kind, I can assure you.” 
 
 Finding himself thus ably seconded, Marma- 
 duke pushed his advantage to the utmost. He 
 entered into a detail of the duties that would at- 
 tend the situation, and circumstantially mentioned 
 the reward, and all those points which are deemed 
 of importance among men of business. The 
 youth listened in extreme agitation. There was 
 an evident contest in his feelings ; at times he ap- 
 peared to wish eagerly for the change, and then 
 again the incomprehensible expression of disgust 
 would cross his features, like a dark cloud obscur- 
 ing a noonday sun. 
 
 The Indian, in whose manner the depression 
 of self-abasement was most powerfully exhibited, 
 listened to the offers of the Judge with an inter- 
 est that increased with each syllable. Gradually 
 he drew nigher to the group ; and when, with his 
 keen glance, he detected the most marked evi- 
 dence of yielding in the countenance of his young 
 companion, he changed at once from his attitude 
 
 and look of shame to the front of an Indian war- 
 rior, and moving, with great dignity, closer to the 
 parties, he spoke : 
 
 “ Listen to your father,” he said ; “ his words 
 are old. Let the Young Eagle and the Great 
 Land Chief eat together ; let them sleep, without 
 fear, near each other. The children of Miquon 
 love not blood ; they are just, and will do right. 
 The sun must rise and set often, before men can 
 make one family ; it is not the work of a day, 
 but of many winters. The Mingoes and the 
 Delawares are born enemies ; their blood can 
 never mix in the wigwam : it never will run in 
 the same stream in the battle. What makes the 
 brother of Miquon and the Young Eagle foes ? 
 They are of the same tribe : their fathers and 
 mothers are one. Learn to wait, my son : you are 
 a Delaware, and an Indian warrior knows how to 
 be patient.” 
 
 This figurative address seemed to have great 
 weight with the young man, who gradually yield- 
 ed to the representations of Marmaduke, and 
 eventually consented to his proposal. It was, 
 however, to be an experiment only ; and, if either 
 of the parties thought fit to rescind the engage- 
 ment, it was left at his option so to do. The 
 remarkable and ill-concealed reluctance of the 
 youth to accept of an offer, which most men in hia 
 situation would consider as an unhoped-for eleva- 
 tion, occasioned no little surprise in those to 
 whom he was a stranger ; and it left a slight im- 
 pression to his disadvantage. When the parties 
 separated, they very naturally made the subject 
 the topic of a conversation, which we shall re- 
 late ; first commencing with the Judge, his daugh- 
 ter, and Richard, who were slowly pursuing the 
 way back to the mansion-house. 
 
 “ I have surely endeavored to remember the 
 holy mandates of our Redeemer, when he bids us 
 * love them who despitefully use you,’ in my inter- 
 course with this incomprehensible boy,” said Mar- 
 maduke. “ I know not what there is in my dwell- 
 ing to frighten a lad of his years, unless it maybe 
 thy presence and visage, Bess.” 
 
 “No, no,” said Richard, with great simplicity ; 
 “ it is not cousin Bess. But when did you ever 
 know a half-breed, ’duke, who could bear civiliza- 
 tion ? For that matter, they are worse than the 
 savages themselves ! Did you notice how knock, 
 kneed he stood, Elizabeth, and what a wild look 
 he had in his eyes ? ” 
 
 “ I heeded not his eyes, nor his knees, which 
 would be all the better for a little humbling. 
 Really, my dear sir, I think you did exercise the 
 Christian virtue of patience to the utmost. I was 
 disgusted with his airs, long before he consented 
 
90 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 to make one of our family. Truly, we are muck 
 honored by the association ! In what apartment 
 is he to be placed, sir ; and at what table is he to 
 receive his nectar and ambrosia ? ” 
 
 “With Benjamin and Remarkable,” interrupt- 
 ed Mr. Jones ; “ you surely would not make the 
 youth eat with the blacks ! He is part Indian, it 
 is true ; but the natives hold the negroes in great 
 contempt. No, no ; he would starve before he 
 would break a crust with the negroes.” 
 
 “ I am but too happy, Dickon, to tempt him to 
 eat with ourselves,” said Marmaduke, “ to think 
 of offering even the indignity you propose.” 
 
 “ Then, sir,” said Elizabeth, with an air that 
 was slightly affected, as if submitting to her fa- 
 ther’s orders in opposition to her own will, “ it 
 is your pleasure that he be a gentleman.” 
 
 “ Certainly ; he is to fill the station of one. 
 Let him receive the treatment that is due to his 
 place, until we find him unworthy of it.” 
 
 “ Well, well, ’duke,” cried the sheriff, “ you 
 will find it no easy matter to make a gentleman 
 of him. The old proverb says that ‘it takes 
 three generations to make a gentleman.’ There 
 was my father, whom everybody knew; my 
 grandfather was an M. D., and his father a D. D. ; 
 and his father came from England. I never 
 could come at the truth of his origin ; but he was 
 either a great merchant in London, or a great 
 country-lawyer, or the youngest son of a bishop.” 
 
 “ Here is a true American genealogy for you,” 
 said Marmaduke, laughing. “ It does very well 
 till you get across the water, where, as every 
 thing is obscure, it is certain to deal in the super- 
 lative. You are sure that your English progeni- 
 tor was great, Dickon, whatever his profession 
 might have been ? ” 
 
 “To be sure I am,” returned the other. “I 
 have heard my old aunt talk of him by the 
 month. We are of a good family, Judge Temple, 
 and have never filled any but honorable stations 
 in life.” 
 
 “ I marvel that you should be satisfied with 
 so scanty a provision of gentility in the olden 
 time, Dickon. Most of the American genealo- 
 gists commence their traditions, like the stories 
 for children, with three brothers, taking especial 
 care that one of the triumvirate shall be the pro- 
 genitor of any of the same name who may hap- 
 pen to be better furnished with wordly gear than 
 themselves. But, here, all are equal who know 
 how to conduct themselves with propriety ; and 
 Oliver Edwards comes into my family on a foot- 
 ing with both the high sheriff and the Judge.” 
 
 “ Well, ’duke, I call this democracy, not re- 
 publicanism ; but I say nothing ; only let him [ 
 
 keep within the law, or I shall show him that 
 the freedom of even this country is under whole- 
 some restraint.” 
 
 “ Surely, Dickon, you will not execute till 1 
 condemn ! But what says Bess to the new in- 
 mate ? We must pay a deference to the ladies 
 in this matter, after all.” 
 
 “ Oh, sir ! ” returned Elizabeth, “ I believe I 
 am much like a certain Judge Temple in this par- 
 ticular — not easily to be turned from my opinion. 
 But, to be serious, although I must think the in. 
 troduction of a demi-savage into the family a 
 somewhat startling event, whomsoever you think 
 proper to countenance may be sure of my re- 
 spect.” 
 
 The Judge drew her arm more closely in his 
 own and smiled, while Richard led the way 
 through the gate of the little court-yard in the 
 rear of the dwelling, dealing out his ambiguous 
 warnings with his accustomed loquacity. 
 
 On the other hand, the foresters — for the 
 three hunters, notwithstanding their difference in 
 character, well deserved this common name — 
 pursued their course along the skirts of the vil- 
 lage in silence. It was not until they had reached 
 the lake, and were moving over its frozen surface 
 toward the foot of the mountain, where the hut 
 stood, that the youth exclaimed : 
 
 “ Who could have foreseen this a month 
 since! I have consented to serve Marmaduke 
 Temple — to be an inmate in the dwelling of the 
 greatest enemy of my race ; yet what better could 
 I do ? The servitude cannot be long ; and, when 
 the motive for submitting to it ceases to exist, I 
 will shake it off, like the dust from my feet.” 
 
 “ Is he a Mingo, that you will call him ene- 
 my ? ” said Mohegan. “ The Delaware warrior 
 sits still, and waits the time of the Great Spirit 
 He is no woman, to cry out like a child.” 
 
 “Well, I’m mistrustful, John,” said Leather- 
 stocking, in whose air there had been, during the 
 whole business, a strong expression of doubt and 
 uncertainty. “ They say that there’s new laws in 
 the land, and I am sartin that there’s new ways in 
 the mountains. One hardly knows the lakes and 
 streams, they’ve altered the country so much. I 
 must say I’m mistrustful of such smooth speakers ; 
 for I’ve known the whites talk fair when they 
 wanted the Indian lands most. This I will say* 
 though I’m white myself, and was born nigh York, 
 and of honest parents, too.” 
 
 “ I will submit,” said the youth ; “ I will forget 
 who I am. Cease to remember, old Mohegan, 
 that I am the descendant of a Delaware chiefi 
 who once was master of these noble hills, these 
 beautiful vales, and of this water over which we 
 
CHRISTMAS EVENING. 
 
 91 
 
 tread. Yes, yes ; I will become his bondsman-— 
 his slave. Is it not an honorable servitude, old 
 man ? ” 
 
 “ Old man ! ” repeated the Indian, solemnly, 
 and pausing in his walk, as usual, when much ex- 
 cited ; “ yes ; John is old. Son of my brother ! 
 if Mohegan was young, when would his rifle be 
 still ? Where would the deer hide, and he not 
 find him ? But John is old ; his hand is the hand 
 of a squaw ; his tomahawk is a hatchet ; brooms 
 and baskets are his enemies — he strikes no other, 
 ffunger and old age come together. See Hawk- 
 eye ! when young, he would go days and eat no- 
 thing ; but should he not put the brush on the 
 fire now, the blaze would go out. Take the son 
 of Miquon by the hand, and he will help you.” 
 
 “ I’m not the man I was, I’ll own, Chingach- 
 gook,” returned the Leather-stocking; “ but lean 
 go without a meal now, on occasion. When we 
 tracked the Iroquois through the ‘ Beech- woods,’ 
 they drove the game afore them, for I hadn’t a 
 morsel to eat from Monday morning come Wednes- 
 day sundown ; and then I shot as fat a buck, on 
 the Pennsylvany line, as ever mortal laid eyes on. 
 It would have done your heart good to have seen 
 the Delaware eat; for I was out scouting and 
 ekrimmaging with their tribe at the time. Lord ! 
 the Indians, lad, lay still, and just waited till 
 Providence should send them their game; but I 
 foraged about, and put a deer up, and put him 
 down too, afore he had made a dozen jumps. I 
 was too weak and too ravenous to stop for his 
 flesh ; so I took a good drink of his blood, and 
 the Indians ate of his meat raw. John was there, 
 and John knows. But then starvation would be 
 apt to be too much for me now, I will own, though 
 I’m no great eater at any time.” 
 
 “ Enough is said, my friends,” cried the youth. 
 ** I feel that everywhere the sacrifice is required 
 at my hands, and it shall be made ; but say no 
 more, I entreat you ; I cannot bear this subject 
 now.” 
 
 His companions were silent; and they soon 
 reached the hut, which they entered, after remov- 
 ing certain complicated and ingenious fastenings, 
 that were put there apparently to guard a prop- 
 erty of but very little value. Immense piles of 
 snow lay against the log walls of this secluded 
 habitation, on one side; while fragments of small 
 trees, and branches of oak and chestnut, that had 
 been torn from their parent stems by the winds, 
 were thrown into a pile on the other. A small 
 column of smoke rose through a chimney of sticks, 
 cemented with clay, along the side of the rock ; 
 and had marked the snow above with its dark 
 tinges, in a wavy line, from the point of emission 
 
 to another, where the hill receded from the brow 
 of a precipice, and held a soil that nourished trees 
 of a gigantic growth, that overhung the little bo* 
 tom beneath. 
 
 The remainder of the day passed off as such 
 days are commonly spent in a new country. The 
 settlers thronged to the academy again, to witness 
 the second effort of Mr. Grant ; and Mohegan was 
 one of his hearers. But, notwithstanding the 
 divine fixed his eyes intently on the Indian, when 
 he invited his congregation to advance to the 
 table, the shame of last night’s abasement was yet 
 too keen in the old chief to suffer him to move. 
 
 When the people were dispersing, the clouds 
 that had been gathering all the morning, were 
 dense and dirty ; and before half of the curious 
 congregation had reached their different cabins, 
 that were placed in every glen and hollow of the 
 mountains, or perched on the summits of the hills 
 themselves, the rain was falling in torrents. The 
 dark edges of the stumps began to exhibit them- 
 selves, as the snow settled rapidly ; the fences of 
 logs and brush, which before had been only traced 
 by long lines of white mounds, that ran across 
 the valley and up the mountains, peeped out from 
 their covering, and the black stubs were momen- 
 tarily becoming more distinct, as large masses of 
 snow and ice fell from their sides, under the influ- 
 ence of the thaw. 
 
 Sheltered in the warm hall of her father’s com- 
 fortable mansion, Elizabeth, accompanied by Lou- 
 isa Grant, looked abroad with admiration at the 
 ever-varying face of things without. Even the 
 village, which had just before been glittering 
 with the color of the frozen element, reluctantly 
 dropped its mask, and the houses exposed their 
 dark roofs and smoked chimneys. The pines 
 shook off the covering of snow, and every thing 
 seemed to be assuming its proper hue, with a 
 transition that bordered on the supernaturaL 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 “And yet, poor Edwin was no vulgar boy.” 
 
 Beattie. 
 
 The close of Christmas-day, a. d. 1793, was 
 tempestuous, but comparatively warm. When 
 darkness had again hid the objects in the village 
 from the gaze of Elizabeth, she turned from the 
 window, where she had remained while the least 
 vestige of light lingered over the tops of the dark 
 pines, with a curiosity that was rather excited 
 than appeased by the passing glimpses of wood- 
 land scenery that she had caught during the day. 
 
 With her arm locked in that of Miss Grant, 
 
92 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 the young mistress of the mansion walked slowly 
 up and down the hall, musing on scenes that were 
 rap ; dly recurring to hei memory, and possibly 
 dwelling, at times, in the sanctuary of her 
 thoughts, on the strange occurrences that had led 
 to the introduction, to her father’s family, of one 
 whose manners so singularly contradicted the in- 
 ferences to be drawn from his situation. The ex- 
 piring heat of the apartment — for its great size 
 required a day to reduce its temperature — had 
 given to her cheeks a bloom that exceeded their 
 natural color, while the mild and melancholy feat- 
 ures of Louisa were brightened with a faint tinge, 
 that, like the hectic of disease, gave a painful in- 
 terest to her beauty. 
 
 The eyes of the gentlemen, who were yet seat- 
 ed around the rich wines of Judge Temple, fre- 
 quently wandered from the table, that was placed 
 at one end of the hall, to the forms that were si- 
 lently moving over its length. Much mirth, and 
 that, at times, of a boisterous kind, proceeded 
 from the mouth of Richard ; but Major Hartmann 
 was not yet excited to his pitch of merriment, 
 and Marmaduke respected the presence of his cler- 
 ical guest too much, to indulge in even the inno- 
 cent humoi that formed no small ingredient <n his 
 character. 
 
 Such were, and such continued to be, the pur- 
 suits of the party, for half an hour after the 
 shutters were closed, and candles were placed in 
 various parts of the hall, as substitutes for the 
 departing daylight. The appearance of Benjamin, 
 staggering under the burden of an armful of 
 wood, was the first interruption to the scene. 
 
 “ How now, Master Pump ! ” roared the newly- 
 appointed sheriff; “is there not warmth enough 
 in ’duke’s best Madeira to keep up the animal 
 heat through this thaw ? Remember, old boy, 
 that the Judge is particular with his beech and 
 maple, beginning to dread already a scarcity of 
 the precious articles. Ha ! ha ! ha ! ’duke, you 
 are a good, warm-hearted relation, I will own, as 
 in duty bound, but you have some queer notions 
 about you, after all. ‘ Come, let us be jolly, and 
 cast away folly.’ ” 
 
 The notes gradually sank into a hum, while 
 the major-domo threw down his load, and, turning 
 to his interrogator with an air of earnestness, 
 replied : 
 
 “Why, look you, Squire Dickens, mayhap 
 there’s a warm latitude round about the table 
 there, thof it’s not the stuff to raise the heat in 
 my body, neither; the raal Jamaiky being the 
 only thing to do that, besides good wood, or some 
 such matter as Newcastle coal. But, if I know 
 any thing of the weather, d’ye see, it’s time to 
 
 be getting all snug, and for putting the ports in 
 and stirring the fires a bit. Mayhap I’ve not fol 
 lowed the seas twenty-seven years, and lived an 
 other seven in these here woods, for nothing, gem 
 men.” 
 
 “ Why, does it bid fair for a change in the 
 weather, Benjamin ? ” inquired the master of the 
 house. 
 
 “There’s a shift of wind, your honor,” re- 
 turned the steward : “ and when there’s a shift of 
 wind, you may look for a change in this here 
 climate. I was aboard of one of Rodney’s fleet, 
 d’ye see, about the time we licked De Grasse, 
 Mounsheer Ler Quaw’s countryman, there; and 
 the wind was here at the south’ard and east’ard; 
 and I was below, mixing a toothful of hot stuff 
 for the captain of marines, who dined, d’ye see, 
 in the cabin, that there very same day; and I 
 suppose he wanted to put out the captain’s fire 
 with a gunroom ingyne : and so, just as I got it 
 to my own liking, after tasting pretty often, for 
 the soldier was difficult to please, slap came the 
 foresail ag’in the mast, whiz went the ship round 
 on her heel, like a whirligig. And a lucky thing 
 was it that our helm was down ; for as she gathered 
 starnway she paid off, which was more than every 
 ship in the fleet did, or could do. But she 
 strained herself in the trough of the sea, and she 
 shipped a deal of water over her quarter. I 
 never swallowed so much clear water at a time in 
 my life, as I did then, for I was looking up the 
 after-hatch at the instant.” 
 
 “ I wonder, Benjamin, that you did not die 
 with a dropsy ! ” said Marmaduke. 
 
 “ I mought, Judge,” said the old tar, with a 
 broad grin; “but there was no need of the 
 med’cine chest for a cure ; for, as I thought the 
 brew was spoilt for the marine’s taste, and there 
 was no telling when another sea might come and 
 spoil it for mine, I finished the mug on the spot. 
 So then all hands was called to the pumps, and 
 there we began to ply the pumps — ” 
 
 “ Well, but the weather ? ” interrupted Marma- 
 duke ; “ what of the weather without doors ? ” 
 
 “Why, here the wind has been all day at the 
 south, and now there’s a lull, as if the last blast 
 was out of the bellows ; and there’s a streak along 
 the mountains, to the north’ard, that, just now, 
 wasn’t wider than the bigness of your hand ; and 
 then the clouds drive afore it as you’d brail a 
 mainsail, and the stars are heaving in sight, like 
 so many lights and beacons, put there to warn us 
 to pile on the wood ; and, if-so-be that I’m a 
 judge of weather, it’s getting to be time to build 
 on a fire ; or you’ll have half of them there por- 
 ter bottles, and them dimmy-johns of wine, in the 
 
A WINTER LANDSCAPE. 
 
 93 
 
 ocker here, breaking with the frost , afore the 
 <norning watch is called/’ 
 
 “ Thou art a prudent sentinel,” said the 
 Judge. “ Act thy pleasuie with the forests, for 
 this night at least.” 
 
 Benjamin did as he was ordered , nor had 
 two hours elapsed, before the prudence of his 
 precautions became very visible. The south 
 wind had, indeed, blown itself out, and it was 
 succeeded by the Calmness that usually gave 
 warning of a serious change in the weather. 
 Long before the family retired to rest, the cold 
 had become cuttingly severe ; and when Mon- 
 sieur Le Quoi sallied forth, under a bright moon, 
 to seek his own abode, he was compelled to beg 
 a blanket, in which he might envelop his form, 
 in addition to the numerous garments that his 
 sagacity had provided for the occasion. The di- 
 vine and his daughter remained as inmates of 
 the mansion-house during the night, and the ex- 
 cess of last night’s merriment induced the gen- 
 tlemen to make an early retreat to their several 
 apartments. Long before midnight, the whole 
 family were invisible. 
 
 Elizabeth and her friend had not yet lost 
 their senses in sleep, when the howlings of the 
 northwest wind were heard around the buildings, 
 and brought with them that exquisite sense of com- 
 fort that is ever excited under such circumstances, 
 in an apartment where the fire has not yet ceased 
 to glimmer; and curtains, and shutters, and 
 feathers, unite to preserve the desired tempera- 
 ture. Once, just as her eyes had opened, appar- 
 ently in the last stage of drowsiness, the roaring 
 winds brought with them a long and plaintive 
 howl, that seemed too wild for a dog, and yet re- 
 sembled the cries of that faithful animal, when 
 night awakens his vigilance, and gives sweetness 
 and solemnity to his alarms. The form of Louisa 
 Grant instinctively pressed nearer to that of the 
 young heiress, who, finding her companion was 
 yet awake, said, in a low tone, as if afraid to break 
 a charm with her voice : 
 
 “ Those distant cries are plaintive, and even 
 beautiful. Can they be the hounds from the hut 
 of Leather-stocking ? ” 
 
 “ They are wolves, who have ventured from 
 the mountain, on the lake,” whispered Louisa, 
 “ and who are only kept from the village by the 
 lights. One night, since we have been here, hun- 
 ger drove them to our very door. Oh, what a 
 dreadful night it was ! But the riches of Judge 
 Temple have given him too many safeguards, to 
 leave room for fear in this house.” 
 
 “ The enterprise of Judge Temple is taming 
 the very forests ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth, throwing 
 
 off the covering, and partly rising in the bed* 
 “ How rapidly is civilization treading on the foot- 
 steps of Nature ! ” she continued, as her eye 
 glanced over, not only the comforts, but the luxu- 
 rie3 of her apartment, and her ear again listened 
 to the distant, but often-repeated howls from the 
 lake. Finding, however, that the timidity of her 
 companion rendered the sounds painful to her, 
 Elizabeth resumed her place, and soon forgot the 
 changes in the country, with those in her own con- 
 dition, in a deep sleep. 
 
 The following morning, the noise of the female 
 servant, who entered the apartment to light the 
 fire, awoke the females. They arose, and finished 
 the slight preparations of their toilets in a clear, 
 cold atmosphere, that penetrated through all the 
 defences of even Miss Temple’s warm room. 
 When Elizabeth was attired, she approached » 
 window and drew its curtain, and, throwing open 
 its shutters, she endeavored to look abroad on the 
 village and the lake. But a thick covering of 
 frost on the glass, while it admitted the light, 
 shut out the view. She raised the sash, and then, 
 indeed, a glorious scene met her delighted eye. 
 
 The lake had exchanged its covering of un- 
 spotted snow for a face of dark ice, that reflected 
 the rays of the rising sun, like a polished mirror. 
 The houses were clothed in a dress of the same 
 description, but which, owing to its position, 
 shone like bright steel ; while the enormous icicles, 
 that were pendent from every roof, caught the 
 brilliant light, apparently throwing it from one to 
 the other, as each glittered, on the side next the 
 luminary, with a golden lustre, that melted away, 
 on its opposite, into the dusky shades of a back- 
 ground. But it was the appearance of the bound- 
 less forests that covered the hills as they rose, in 
 the distance, one over the other, that most at- 
 tracted the gaze of Miss Temple. The huge 
 branches of the pines and hemlocks bent with 
 the weight of the ice they supported, while their 
 summits rose above the swelling tops of the oaks, 
 beeches, and maples, like spires of burnished sil- 
 ver issuing from domes of the same material. 
 The limits of the view, in the west, were marked 
 by an undulating outline of bright light, as if, re- 
 versing the order of Nature, numberless suns 
 might momentarily be expected to heave above 
 the horizon. In the foreground of the picture, 
 along the shores of the lake, and near to the vil- 
 lage, each tree seemed studded with diamonds. 
 Even the sides of the mountains where the rays 
 of the sun could not yet fall, were decorated with 
 a glassy coat, that presented every gradation of 
 brilliancy, from the first touch of the luminary 
 to the dark foliage of the hemlock, glisteniug 
 
04 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 through its coat of crystal. In short, the whole 
 view was one scene of quivering radiancy, as 
 lake, mountains, village, and woods, each emitted 
 a portion of light, tinged with its peculiar hue, 
 and varied by its position and its magnitude. 
 
 “ See ! ” cried Elizabeth — “ see, Louisa : has- 
 ten to the window, and observe the miraculous 
 change ! *' 
 
 Miss Grant complied ; and, after bending for a 
 moment in silence, from the opening, she ob- 
 served, in a low tone, as if afraid to trust the 
 sound of her voice : 
 
 “ The change is indeed wonderful ! I am 
 surprised that he should be able to effect it so 
 soon.” 
 
 Elizabeth turned in amazement, to hear so 
 skeptical a sentiment from one educated like her 
 companion ; but was surprised to find that, in- 
 stead of looking at the view, the mild blue eyes 
 of Miss Grant were dwelling on the form of a 
 well-dressed young man, who was standing be- 
 fore the door of the building, in earnest conver- 
 sation with her father. A second look was ne- 
 cessary, before she was able to recognize the 
 person of the young hunter, in a plain, but assur- 
 edly the ordinary, garb of a gentleman. 
 
 “ Every thing in this magical country seems 
 to border on the marvellous,” said Elizabeth ; 
 “ and, among all the changes, this is certainly not 
 the least wonderful. The actors are as unique as 
 the scenery.” 
 
 Miss Grant colored, and drew in her head. 
 
 “I am a simple country girl, Miss Temple, 
 and I am afraid you will find me but a poor com- 
 panion,” she said. “ I — I am not sure that I 
 understand all you say. But I really thought that 
 you wished me to notice the alteration in Mr. Ed- 
 wards. Is it not more wonderful when we recol- 
 lect his origin ? They say he is part Indian.” 
 
 “ He is a genteel savage ; but let us go down, 
 and give the sachem his tea ; for I suppose he is 
 a descendant of King Philip, if not a grandson 
 of Pocahontas.” 
 
 The ladies wefe met in the hall by Judge Tem- 
 ple, who took his daughter aside to apprise her 
 of that alteration in the appearance of their new 
 inmate, with which she was already acquainted. 
 
 “ He appears reluctant to converse on his for- 
 mer situation,” continued Marmaduke ; “ but I 
 gathered from his discourse, as is apparent from 
 his manner, that he has seen better days ; and I 
 am really inclining to the opinion of Richard, as 
 to his origin ; for it was no unusual thing for the 
 Indian agents to rear their children in a laudable 
 manner, and — ” 
 
 “Very well, my dear six,” interrupted his 
 
 daughter, laughing and averting her eyes ; “ it is 
 all well enough, I dare say ; but, as I do not un- 
 derstand a word of the Mohawk language, he 
 must be content to speak English ; and as for 
 his behavior, I trust to your discernment to con- 
 trol it.” 
 
 “ Ay ! but, Bess,” cried the Judge, detaining 
 her gently with his hand, “ nothing must be said 
 to him of his past life. This he has begged par- 
 ticularly of me, as a favor. He is, perhaps, a 
 little soured, just now, with his wounded arm ; 
 the injury seems very light, and another time he 
 may be more communicative.” 
 
 “ Oh ! I am not much troubled, sir, with that 
 laudable thirst after knowledge that is called 
 curiosity. I shall believe him to be the child of 
 Corn-stalk, or Corn-planter, or some other re- 
 nowned chieftain ; possibly of the Big Snake him- 
 self ; and shall treat him as such until he sees fit 
 to shave his good-looking head, borrow some half- 
 dozen pair of my best ear-rings, shoulder his rifle 
 again, and disappear as suddenly as he made his 
 entrance. So come, my dear sir, and let us not 
 forget the rites of hospitality, for the short time 
 he is to remain with us.” 
 
 Judge Temple smiled at the playfulness of his 
 child, and taking her arm they entered the break- 
 fast parlor, where the young hunter was seated, 
 with an air that showed his determination to do- 
 mesticate himself in the family with as little pa- 
 rade as possible. 
 
 Such were the incidents that led to this ex- 
 traordinary increase in the family of Judge Tem- 
 ple, where, having once established the youth, the 
 subject of our tale requires us to leave him for a 
 time, to pursue with diligence and intelligence the 
 employments that were assigned him by Marma- 
 duke. 
 
 Major Hartmann made his customary visit, and 
 took his leave of the party for the next three 
 months. Mr. Grant was compelled to be absent 
 much of his time, in remote parts of the country, 
 and his daughter became almost a constant visit- 
 or at the mansion-house. Richard entered, with 
 his constitutional eagerness, on the duties of his 
 new office; and, as Marmaduke was much em- 
 ployed with the constant applications of adven 
 turers for farms, the winter passed swiftly away 
 The lake was a principal scene for the amusements 
 of the young people ; where the ladies, in their 
 one-horse cutter, driven by R’ chard, and attended, 
 when the snow would admit of it, by young Ed- 
 wards, on his skates, spent many hours, taking 
 the benefit of exercise in the clear air of the hills. 
 The reserve of the youth gradually gave way to 
 time and his situation, though it was still evident, 
 
THE APPROACH OF SPRING. 
 
 95 
 
 to a close observer, that he had frequent mo- 
 ments of bitter and intense feeling. 
 
 Elizabeth saw many large openings appear in 
 the sides of the mountains during the three suc- 
 ceeding months, where different settlers had, in 
 the language of the country, “ made their pitch 
 while the numberless sleighs that passed through 
 the village, loaded with wheat and barrels of pot- 
 ashes, afforded a clear demonstration that all 
 these labors were not undertaken in vain. In 
 short, the whole country was exhibiting the bustle 
 of a thriving settlement, where the highways were 
 thronged with sleighs, bearing piles of rough 
 household furniture; studded, here and there, 
 with the smiling faces of women and children, 
 happy in the excitement of novelty ; or, with loads 
 of produce, hastening to the common market at Al- 
 bany, that served as so many snares to induce the 
 emigrants to enter into those wild mountains in 
 search of competence and happiness. 
 
 The village was alive with business ; the arti- 
 sans increasing in wealth with the prosperity of 
 the country, and each day witnessing some nearer 
 approach to the manners and usages of an old-set- 
 tled town. The man who carried the mail or “ the 
 post,” as he was called, talked much of running a 
 stage, and, once or twice during the winter, he 
 was seen taking a single passenger, in his cutter, 
 through the snow-banks, toward the Mohawk, 
 along which a regular vehicle glided, semi-weekly, 
 with the velocity of lightning, and under the di- 
 rection of a knowing whip from the “ down coun- 
 tries.” Toward spring, divers families, who had 
 been into the “ old States,” to see their relatives, 
 returned, in time to save the snow, frequently 
 bringing with them whole neighborhoods, who were 
 tempted by their representations to leave the 
 farms of Connecticut and Massachusetts, to make 
 a trial of fortune in the woods. 
 
 During all this time, Oliver Edwards, whose 
 sudden elevation excited no surprise in that 
 changeful country, was earnestly engaged in the 
 service of Marmaduke, during the days ; but his 
 nights were often spent in the hut of Leather- 
 stocking. The intercourse between the three hun- 
 ters was maintained with a certain air of mystery, 
 it is true, but with much zeal and apparent inter- 
 est to all the parties. Even Mohegan seldom came 
 to the mansion-house, and Natty, never ; but Ed- 
 wards sought every leisure moment to visit his 
 former abode, from which he would often return 
 in the gloomy hours of night, through the snow, 
 or, if detained beyond the time at which the fam- 
 ily retired to rest, with the morning sun. These 
 visits certainly excited much speculation in those 
 to whom they were known, but no comments 
 
 were made, excepting occasionally, in whkpera 
 from Richard, who would say : 
 
 “ It is not at all remarkable ; a half-breed can 
 never be weaned from the savage ways — and, for 
 one of his lineage, the boy is much nearer civiliza- 
 ation than could, in reason, be expected.” 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 “Away! nor let me loiter in my song, 
 
 For we have many a mountain-path to tread.” 
 
 Bybon. 
 
 As the spring gradually approached, the im- 
 mense piles of snow that, by alternate thaws and 
 frosts, and repeated storms, had obtained a firm- 
 ness which threatened a tiresome durability, be- 
 gan to yield to the influence of milder breezes 
 and a warmer sun. The gates of heaven at times 
 seemed to open, and a bland air diffused itself 
 over the earth, when animate and inanimate Na- 
 ture would awaken, and, for a few hours, the 
 gayety of spring shone in every eye, and smiled on 
 every field. But the shivering blasts from the 
 north would carry their chill influence over the 
 scene again, and the dark and gloomy clouds that 
 intercepted the rays of the sun were not more 
 cold and dreary than the reaction. These strug- 
 gles between the seasons became daily more fre- 
 quent, while the earth, like a victim to conten- 
 tion, slowly lost the animated brilliancy of winter, 
 without obtaining the aspect of spring. 
 
 Several weeks were consumed in this cheerless 
 manner, during which the inhabitants of the coun- 
 try gradually changed their pursuits from the 
 social and bustling movements of the time of 
 snow, to the laborious and domestic engagements 
 of the coming season. The village was no longer 
 thronged with visitors ; the trade that had enli- 
 vened the shops for several months, began to dis- 
 appear ; the highways lost their shining coats of 
 beaten snow in impassable sloughs, and were de- 
 serted by the gay and noisy travellers who, in 
 sleighs, had, during the winter, glided along their 
 windings ; and, in short, everything seemed in 
 dicative of a mighty change, not only in the earth ; 
 but in those who derived their sources of comfort 
 and happiness from its bosom. 
 
 The younger members of the family in tha 
 mansion-house, of which Louisa Grant was nou 
 habitually one, were by no means indifferent ob- 
 servers of these fluctuating and tardy changes. 
 While the snow rendered the roads passable, they 
 had partaken largely in the amusements of the 
 
96 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 winter, which included not only daily rides over 
 the mountains, and through every valley within 
 twenty miles of them, but divers ingenious and 
 varied sources of pleasure, on the bosom of their 
 frozen lake. There had been excursions in the 
 equipage of Richard, when, with his four horses, 
 he had outstripped the winds, as it flew over the 
 glassy ice which invariably succeeded a thaw. 
 Then the exciting and dangerous “ whirligig ” 
 would be suffered to possess its moment of notice. 
 Cutters, drawn by a single horse, and handsleds, 
 impelled by the gentlemen, on skates, would each 
 in turn be used ; and, in short, every source of 
 relief against the tediousness of a winter in the 
 mountains was resorted to by the family. Eliz- 
 abeth was compelled to acknowledge to her father, 
 that the season, with the aid of his library, was 
 much less irksome than she had anticipated. 
 
 As exercise in the open air was in some de- 
 gree necessary to the habits of the family, when 
 the constant recurrence of frosts and thaws ren- 
 dered the roads, which were dangerous at the 
 most favorable times, utterly impassable for 
 wheels, saddle-horses were used as substitutes for 
 other conveyances. Mounted on small and sure- 
 footed beasts, the ladies would again attempt the 
 passages of the mountains, and penetrate into 
 every retired glen, where the enterprise of a set- 
 tler had induced him to establish himself. In 
 these excursions they were attended by some one 
 or all of the gentlemen of the family, as their dif- 
 ferent pursuits admitted. Young Edwards was 
 hourly becoming more familiarized to his situa- 
 tion, and not unfrequently mingled in the parties 
 with an unconcern and gayety, that for a short 
 time would expel all unpleasant recollections from 
 his mind. Habit, and the buoyancy of youth, 
 seemed to be getting the ascendency over the 
 secret causes of his uneasiness; though there 
 were moments, when the same remarkable ex- 
 pression of disgust would cross his intercourse 
 with Marmaduke, that had distinguished their 
 conversations in the first days of their acquaint- 
 ance. 
 
 It was at the close of the month of March, 
 that the sheriff succeeded in persuading his cousin 
 and her young friend to accompany him in a ride 
 to a hill that was said to overhang the lake in a 
 manner peculiar to itself. 
 
 “ Besides, cousin Bess,” continued the inde- 
 fatigable Richard, “we will stop and see the 
 ‘ sugar bush’ of Billy Kirby : he is on the east end 
 of the Ransom lot, making sugar for Jared 
 Ransom. There is not a better hand over a kettle 
 in the county than that same Kirby. You re- 
 member, ’duke, that I had him his first season, 
 
 in our camp ; and it is not a wonder that he know* 
 something of his trade.” 
 
 “ He’s a good chopper, is Billy,” observed Ben- 
 jamin, who held the bridle of the horse while the 
 sheriff mounted ; “ and he handles an axe much 
 the same as a forecastle-man does his marling- 
 spike, or a tailor his goose. They say he’ll lift a 
 potash kettle off the arch alone, tho’ I can’t say 
 that I’ve ever seen him do it with my own eyes ; 
 but that is the say. And I’ve seen sugar of his 
 making, which, maybe, wasn’t as white as an old 
 top-gallant sail, but which my friend Mistress 
 Prettybones, within there, said had the true mo- 
 lasses smack to it ; and you are not the one, Squire 
 Dickens, to be told that Mistress Remarkable has 
 a remarkable tooth for sweet things, in her nut- 
 grinder.” 
 
 The loud laugh that succeeded the wit of Ben- 
 jamin, and in which he participated, with no 
 very harmonious sounds, himself, very fully il- 
 lustrated the congenial temper which existed be- 
 tween the pair. Most of its point was, however, 
 lost on the rest of the party, who were either 
 mounting their horses or assisting the ladies at 
 the moment. When all were safely in their sad- 
 dles, they moved through the village in great 
 order. They paused for a moment before the door 
 of Monsieur Le Quoi, until he could bestride hifl 
 steed, and then, issuing from the little cluster of 
 houses, they, took one of the principal of those 
 highways that centred in the village. 
 
 As each night brought with it a severe frost, 
 which the heat of the succeeding day served to 
 dissipate, the equestrians were compelled to pro- 
 ceed singly along the margin of the road, where 
 the turf, and firmness of the ground, gave the 
 horses a secure footing. Yery trifling indications 
 of vegetation were to be seen, the surface of the 
 earth presenting a cold, wet, and cheerless aspect 
 that chilled the blood. The snow yet lay scat- 
 tered over most of those distant clearings that 
 were visible in different parts of the mountains ; 
 though here and there an opening might be seen, 
 where as the white covering yielded to the season, 
 the bright and lively green of the wheat served to 
 enkindle the hopes of the husbandman. Nothing 
 could be more marked than the contrast between 
 the earth and the heavens ; for, while the former 
 presented the dreary view that we have described, 
 a warm and invigorating sun was dispensing hifl 
 heats from a sky that contained but a solitar} 
 cloud, and through an atmosphere that softened 
 the colors of the sensible horizon until it shone 
 like a sea of blue. 
 
 Richard led the way, on this, as on all other 
 occasions, that did not require the exercise of ui> 
 
MAPLE-SUGAR MANUFACTURE. 
 
 97 
 
 usual abilities ; and, as be moved along, he es- 
 sayed to enliven the party with the sounds of his 
 experienced voice. 
 
 “ This is your true sugar weather, ’duke,” he 
 cried; “a frosty night and a sunshiny day. I 
 warrant me that the sap runs like a mill-tail up 
 the maples this warm morning. It is a pity, 
 Judge, that you do not introduce a little more 
 science into the manufactory of sugar among your 
 tenants. It might be done, sir, without knowing 
 as much as Doctor Franklin — it might be done, 
 Judge Temple.” 
 
 “The first object of my solicitude, friend 
 Jones,” returned Marraaduke, “ is to protect the 
 sources of this great mine of comfort and wealth 
 from the extravagance of the people themselves. 
 When -this important point shall be achieved, it 
 will be in season to turn our attention to an im- 
 provement in the manufacture of the article. But 
 thou knowest, Richard, that I have already sub- 
 jected our sugar to the process of the refiner, and 
 that the result has produced loaves as white as the 
 snow on yon fields, and possessing the saccharine 
 quality in its utmost purity.-” 
 
 “ Saccharine, or turpentine, or any other ’ine, 
 Judge Temple, you have never made a loaf larger 
 than a good-sized sugar-plum,” returned the sher- 
 iff. “Now, sir, I assert that no experiment is 
 fairly tried, until it be reduced to practical pur- 
 poses. If, sir, I owned a hundred, or, for that 
 matter, two hundred thousand acres of land, as 
 you do, I would build a sugar-house in the village ; 
 I would invite learned men to an investigation of 
 the subject — and such are easily to be found, sir; 
 yes, sir, they are not difficult to find — men who 
 unite theory with practice ; and I would select a 
 wood of young and thrifty trees ; and, instead of 
 making loaves of the size of a lump of candy, 
 dam’me, ’duke, but I’d have them as big as a hay- 
 cock.” 
 
 “ And purchase the cargo of one of those ships 
 that they say are going to China,” cried Elizabeth ; 
 “ turn your potash-kettles into teacups, the sce'./s 
 on the lake into saucers ; bake your cake in yon- 
 der lime-kiln, and invite the county to a tea-party. 
 How wonderful are the projects of genius ! Real- 
 ly, sir, the world is of opinion that Judge Temple 
 has tried the experiment fairly, though he did not 
 cause his loaves to be cast in moulds of the mag- 
 nitude that would suit your magnificent concep- 
 tions.” 
 
 “You may laugh, cousin Elizabeth — you may 
 laugh, madam,” retorted Richard, turning him- 
 «elf so much in his saddle as to face the party, 
 and making dignified gestures with his whip ; 
 “ but I appeal to common sense, good sense, or, 
 
 what is of more importance than either, to the 
 sense of taste, which is one of the five natural 
 senses, whether a big loaf of sugar is not likely 
 to contain a better illustration of a proposition 
 than such a lump as one of your Dutch women 
 puts under her tongue when she drinks her tea. 
 There are two ways of doing every thing ; the right 
 way, and the wrong way. You make sugar now, 
 I will admit, and you may, possibly, make loaf 
 sugar ; but I take the question to be, whether you 
 make the best possible sugar, and in the best 
 possible loaves.” 
 
 “ Thou art very right, Richard,” observed Mar- 
 maduke, with a gravity in his air that proved how 
 much he was interested in the subject. “ It is 
 very true that we manufacture sugar, and the 
 inquiry is quite useful, how much ? and in what 
 manner ? I hope to live to see the day, when 
 farms and plantations shall be devoted to this 
 branch of business. Little is known concerning 
 the properties of the tree itself, the source of all 
 this wealth ; how much it may be improved by 
 cultivation, by the use of the hoe and plough.” 
 
 “ Hoe and plough ! ” roared the sheriff ; 
 “ would you set a man hoeing round the root of 
 a maple like this ? ” — pointing to one of the noble 
 trees that occur so frequently in that part of the 
 country. — “ Hoeing trees ! are you mad, ’duke ? 
 This is next to hunting for coal ! Poh ! poh ! 
 my dear cousin, hear reason, and leave the man- 
 agement of the sugar-bush to me. Here is Mr. 
 Le Quoi — he has been in the West Indies, and has 
 seen sugar made. Let him give an account of 
 how it is made there, and you will hear the phi- 
 losophy of the thing. — Well, monsieur, how is it 
 that you make sugar in the West Indies ; any- 
 thing in Judge Temple’s fashion ? ” 
 
 The gentleman to whom this query was put 
 was mounted on a small horse, of no very fiery 
 temperament, and was riding with his stirrups so 
 short as to bring his knees, while the animal rose 
 a small ascent in the wood-path they were now 
 travelling, into a somewhat hazardous vicinity to 
 his chin. There was no room for gesticulation or 
 grace in the delivery of his reply, for the moun- 
 tain was steep and slippery ; and, although the 
 Frenchman had an eye of uncommon magnitude 
 on either side of his face, they did not seem to be 
 half competent to forewarn him of the impedi- 
 ments of bushes, twigs, and fallen trees, that were 
 momentarily crossing his path. With one hand 
 employed in averting these dangers, and the other 
 grasping his bridle, to check an untoward 6peed 
 that his horse was assuming, the native of Franc# 
 responded as follows : 
 
 “ Sucre ! dey do make sucre in Martinique : 
 
98 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 mais— mais ce n T est pas one tree— ah— all— vat 
 you call— je voudrois que ces chemins fussent au 
 diable— vat you call— steeck pour le promenade.” 
 
 “ Cane,” said Elizabeth, smiling at the impre- 
 cation which the wary Frenchman supposed was 
 understood only by himself. 
 
 “ Oui, mam’selle, can'e.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” cried Richard, “ cane is the -nil- 
 gar name for it, but the real term is saccharum 
 officinarum ; and what we call the sugar, or hard 
 maple, is acer saccharinum. These are the learned 
 names, monsieur, and are such as, doubtless, you 
 well understand.” 
 
 ‘‘Is this Greek or Latin, Mr. Edwards?” 
 whispered Elizabeth to the youth, who was open- 
 ing a passage for herself and her companions 
 through the bushes— “ or perhaps it is a still more 
 learned language, for an interpretation of which 
 we must look to you.” 
 
 The dark eye of the young man glanced toward 
 the speaker, but its resentful expression changed 
 in a moment. 
 
 “ I shall remember your doubts, Miss Temple, 
 when next I visit my old friend Mohegan, and 
 either his skill, or that of Leather-stocking, shall 
 solve them.” 
 
 « And are you, then really ignorant of their 
 language ? ” 
 
 “ Not absolutely ; but the deep learning of 
 Mr. Jones is more familiar to me, or even the 
 polite masquerade of Monsieur Le Quoi.” 
 
 « Do you speak French ? ” said the lady, with 
 quickness. 
 
 « It is a common language with the Iroquois, 
 and through the Canadas,” he answered, smiling. 
 
 “ Ah ! but they are Mingoes, and your ene- 
 mies.” 
 
 « It will be well for me if I have no worse,” 
 said the youth, dashing ahead with his horse, 
 and putting an end to the evasive dialogue. 
 
 The discourse, however, was maintained with 
 great vigor by Richard, until they reached an 
 open wood on the summit of the mountain, where 
 the hemlocks and pines totally disappeared, and 
 a grove of the very trees that formed the subject 
 of debate covered the earth with their tall, straight 
 trunks and spreading branches, in stately pride. 
 The underwood had been entirely removed from 
 this grove, or bush, as, in conjunction with the 
 simple arrangements for boiling, it was called, and 
 a wide space of many acres was cleared, which 
 might be likened to the dome of a mighty temple, 
 to which the maples formed the columns, their 
 tops composing the capitals, and the heavens the 
 arch. A deep and careless incision had been 
 maae into each tree, near its root, into which lit- 
 
 tle sprouts, formed of the bark of the alder, oi 
 of the sumach, were fastened; and a trough, 
 roughly dug out of the linden, or basswood, was 
 lying at the root of each tree, to catch the sap 
 that flowed from this extremely wasteful and in- 
 artificial arrangement. 
 
 The party paused a moment, on gaining the 
 flat, to breathe their horses, and, as the scene 
 was entirely new to several of their number, to 
 view the manner of collecting the fluid. A fine, 
 powerful voice aroused them from their momen- 
 tary silence, as it rang under the branches of the 
 trees, singing the following words of that inimi- 
 table doggerel, whose verses, if extended, would 
 reach from the waters of the Connecticut to tho 
 shores of Ontario. The tune was, of course, 
 that familiar air which, although it is said to 
 have been first applied to his nation in derision, 
 circumstances have since rendered so glorious 
 that no American ever hears its jingling cadence 
 without feeling a thrill at his heart. 
 
 “The Eastern States be full of men, 
 
 The -Western full of woods, sir, 
 
 The hills be like a cattle-pen. 
 
 The roads be full of goods, sir ! 
 
 Then flow away, my sweety sap, 
 
 An d I will make you boily; 
 
 Nor catch a woodman’s hasty nap, 
 
 For fear you should get roily. 
 
 “The maple-tree’s a precious one, 
 
 ’Tis fuel, food, and timber ; 
 
 And when your stiff day’s work is done, 
 
 It’s juice will make you limber. 
 
 Then flow away, etc. 
 
 “ And what’s a man without his glass, 
 
 TTis wife without her tea, sir ? 
 
 But neither cup nor mug will pass, 
 
 Without this honey-bee, sir! 
 
 Then flow away,” etc. 
 
 During the execution of this sonorous dogger- 
 el, Richard kept time with his whip on the mane 
 of his charger, accompanying the gestures with a 
 corresponding movement of his head and body. 
 Toward the close of the song, he was overheard 
 humming the chorus, and, at its last repetition, to 
 strike in at “ sweety sap,” and carry a second 
 through, with a prodigious addition to the “ ef- 
 fect ” of the noise, if not to that of the harmony. 
 
 « Well done us ! ” roared the sheriff, on the 
 same key with the tune ; “ a very good song, 
 Billy Kirby, and very well sung. Where got you 
 the words, lad ? is there more of it, and can you 
 furnish me with a copy ? ” 
 
 The sugar-boiler, who was busy in his “ camp,” 
 at a short distance fVom the equestrians, turned 
 his head with great indifference, and surveyed the 
 party, as they approached, with admirable cool- 
 ness. To each individual, as he or she rode close 
 
BILLY KIRBY AND THE FRENCHMAN. 
 
 99 
 
 by him, he gave a nod that was extremely good- 
 natured and affable, but which partook largely 
 of the virtue of equality, for not even to the la- 
 dies did he in the least vary his mode of saluta- 
 tion, by touching the apology for a hat that he 
 wore, or by any other motion than the one we 
 have mentioned. 
 
 “How goes it, how goes it, sheriff?” said 
 the wood-chopper ; “ what’s the good word in the 
 village ? ” 
 
 “ Why, much as usual, Billy,” returned Rich- 
 ard. “ But how is this ? where are your four 
 kettles, and your troughs, and your iron coolers ? 
 Do you make sugar in this slovenly way ? I 
 thought you were one of the best sugar-boilers in 
 the county.” 
 
 “ I’m all that, Squire Jones,” said'Kirby, who 
 continued his occupation ; “ I’ll turn my back to 
 no man in the Otsego hills, for chopping and log- 
 ging, for boiling down the maple sap, for tending 
 brick-kiln, splitting out rails, making potash, and 
 parling too, or hoeing corn ; though I keep my- 
 self pretty much to the first business, seeing that 
 the axe comes most natural to me.” 
 
 “ You be von Jack All-trade, Mister Beel,” 
 said Monsieur Le Quoi. 
 
 “ How ? ” said Kirby, looking up, with a sim- 
 plicity which, coupled with his gigantic frame 
 and manly face, was a little ridiculous, “if you 
 oe for trade, mounshere, here is some as good 
 sugar as you’ll find the season through. It’s as 
 clear from dirt as the Jarman Flats is free from 
 stumps, and it has the raal maple flavor. Such 
 stuff would sell in York for candy.” 
 
 The Frenchman approached the place where 
 Kirby had deposited his cakes of sugar, under 
 the cover of a bark roof, and commenced the 
 examination of vhe article, with the eye of one 
 who well understood its value. Marmaduke had 
 dismounted, and was viewing the works and the 
 irees very closely, and not without frequent ex- 
 pressions of dissatisfaction at the careless man- 
 ner in which the manufacture was conducted. 
 
 “ You have much experience in these things, 
 Kirby,” he said; “what course do you pursue in 
 making your sugar? I see you have but two 
 kettles.” 
 
 “Two is as good as two thousand, Judge. 
 Tm none of your polite sugar-makers, that boils 
 for the great lolks ; but if the raal sweet maple 
 is wanted, 1 can answer your turn. First, I 
 choose, and then I tap my trees ; say along about 
 the last of February, or in these mountains may 
 be not afore the middle of March ; but any way, 
 just as the sap begins to cleveriy run — ” 
 
 “Well, in this choice,” interrupted Marma- 
 
 duke, “ are you governed by any outward signs 
 that prove the quality of the tree ? ” 
 
 “ Why, there’s judgment in all things,” said 
 Kirby, stirring the liquor in his kettles briskly. 
 “ There’s something in knowing when and how 
 much to stir the pot. It’s a thing that must be 
 larnt. Rome wasn’t built in a day, nor for that 
 matter Templetown either, though it may be said 
 to be a quick-growing place. I never put my axe 
 into a stunty tree, or one that hasn’t a good, fresh- 
 looking bark ; for trees have disorders, like crea- 
 ters ; and where’s the policy of taking a tree 
 that’s sickly, any more than you’d choose a foun- 
 dered horse to ride post, or an over-heated ox to 
 do your logging.” 
 
 “ All that is true. But what are the signs of 
 illness? how do you distinguish a tree that is 
 well from one that is diseased ? ” 
 
 “ How does the doctor tell who has fever, and 
 who colds ? ” interrupted Richard. “ By examin- 
 ing the skin, and feeling the pulse, to be sure.” 
 
 “ Sartain,” continued Billy ; “ the squire an’t 
 far out of the way. It’s by the look of the tiling, 
 sure enough. — Well, when the sap begins to get 
 a free run, I hang over the kettles, and set up 
 the bush. My first boiling I push pretty smartly, 
 till I get the virtue of the sap ; but when it be- 
 gins to grow of a molasses nater, likes this in the 
 kettle, one mustn’t drive the fires too hard, or 
 you’ll burn the sugar ; and burny sugar is bad to 
 the taste, let it be never so sweet. So you ladle 
 out from one kettle into the other till it gets so, 
 when you put the stirring stick into it, that it will 
 draw into a thread — when it takes a kerful hand 
 to manage it. — There is a way to drain it off, af- 
 ter it has grained, by putting clay into the pans ; 
 but it isn’t always practised : some doos and some 
 doosn’t. Well, mounsher, be we likely to make 
 a trade ? ” 
 
 “ I will give you, Mister Beel, for von pound, 
 dix sous.” 
 
 “No, I expect cash for’t: I never dicker my 
 sugar. — But, seeing that it’s you, mounsher,” said 
 Billy, with a coaxing smile, “ I’ll agree to receive 
 a gallon of rum, and cloth enough for two shirts, 
 if you will take the molasses in the bargain. It’s 
 raal good. I wouldn’t deceive you or any man ; 
 and to my drinking it’s about the best molasses 
 that come out of a sugar-bush.” 
 
 “ Mr. Le Quoi has offered you ten pence,” said 
 young Edwards. 
 
 The manufacturer stared at the speaker with 
 an air of great freedom, but made no reply. 
 
 “ Oui,” said the Frenchman, “ ten penny. Je 
 vous remercie, monsieur : ah ! mon Anglois ! j« 
 l’oublie toujours.” 
 
100 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 The wood-chopper looked from one to the other 
 with some displeasure; and evidently imbibed 
 the opinion that they were amusing themselves 
 at his expense. He seized the enormous ladle, 
 which was lying in one of his kettles, and began 
 to stir the boiling liquid with great diligence. 
 After a moment passed in dipping the ladle full, 
 and then raising it on high, as the thick rich fluid 
 fell back into the kettle, he suddenly gave it a 
 whirl, as if to cool what yet remained, and of- 
 fered the bowl to Mr. Le Quoi, saying : 
 
 “ Taste that, mounsher, and you will say it is 
 worth more than you offer. The molasses itself 
 would fetch the money.” 
 
 The complaisant Frenchman, after several 
 timid efforts to trust his lips in contact with the 
 bowl of the ladle, got a good swallow of the 
 scalding liquid. He clapped his hands on his 
 breast, and looked most piteously at the ladies, 
 for a single instant ; and then, to use the lan- 
 guage of Billy, when he afterward recounted the 
 tale “ no drumsticks ever went faster on the skin 
 of a sheep, than the Frenchman’s legs, for a 
 round or two : and then such swearing and spit- 
 ting in French you never saw. But it’s a know- 
 ing one, from the old countries, that thinks to get 
 his jokes smoothly over a wood-chopper.” 
 
 The air of innocence with which Kirby re- 
 sumed the occupation of stirring the contents of 
 his kettles would have completely deceived the 
 spectators as to his agency in the temporary suf- 
 fering of Mr. Le Quoi, had not the reckless fellow 
 thrust his tongue into his cheek, and cast his pyes 
 over the party, with a simplicity of expression 
 that was too exquisite to be natural. Mr. Le 
 Quoi soon recovered his presence of mind, and 
 his decorum ; he briefly apologized to the ladies 
 for one or two very intemperate expressions that 
 had escaped him in a moment of extraordinary 
 excitement, and, remounting his horse, he con- 
 tinued in the background during the remainder 
 of the visit, the wit of Kirby putting a violent ter- 
 mination, at once, to all negotiations on the sub- 
 ject of trade. During all this time, Marmaduke 
 had been wandering about the grove, making ob- 
 servations on his favorite trees, and the wasteful 
 manner in which the wood-chopper conducted 
 his manufacture. 
 
 “ It grieves me to witness the extravagance 
 that pervades this country,” said the Judge, 
 « where the settlers trifle with the blessings they 
 might enjoy, with the prodigality of successful 
 adventurers. You are not exempt from the cen- 
 sure yourself, Kirby, for you make dreadful 
 wounds in these trees where a small incision 
 would effect the same object. I earnestly beg 
 
 you will remember that they are the growth of 
 centuries, and, when once gone, none living will 
 see their loss remedied.” 
 
 “ Why, I don’t know, Judge,” returned the 
 man he addressed : “ it seems to me, if there’s a 
 plenty of any thing in this mountaynious country, 
 it’s the trees. If there’s any sin in chopping 
 them, I’ve a pretty heavy account to settle; for 
 I’ve chopped over the best half of a thousand 
 acres, with my own hands, counting both Var- 
 mount and York States ; and I hope to live to 
 finish the whull, before. I lay up my axe. Chop- 
 ping comes quite natural to me, and I wish no 
 other employment ; but Jared Ranson said that 
 he thought the sugar was likely to be scurce this 
 season, seeing that so many folks was coming in- 
 to the settlement, and so I concluded to take the 
 ‘ bush ’ on sheares, for this one spring. What’s 
 the best news, Judge, consarning ashes ? do pots 
 hold so that a man can live by them still ? I s’pose 
 they will, if they keep on fighting across the wa- 
 ter.” 
 
 “ Thou reasonest with judgment, William,” 
 returned Marmaduke. “ So long as the old world 
 is to be convulsed with wars, so long will the har- 
 vest of America continue.” 
 
 “ Well, it’s an ill wind, Judge, that blows no- 
 body any good. I’m sure the country is in a 
 thriving way ; and, though I know you calkilate 
 greatly on the trees, setting as much store by them 
 as some men would by their children, yet to my 
 eyes they are a sore sight at any time, unless I’m 
 privileged to work my will on them ; in which 
 case I can’t say but they are more to my liking. 
 
 I have heard the settlers from the old countries 
 say that their rich men keep great oaks and elms, 
 that would make a barrel of pots to the tree, stand- 
 ing round their doors and humsteads, and scat- 
 tered over their farms, just to look at. Now, I 
 call no country much improved, that is pretty well 
 covered with trees. Stumps are a different thing, 
 for they don’t shade the land ; and, besides, if you 
 dig them, they make a fence that will turn any 
 thing bigger than a hog, being grand for breachy 
 
 cattle.” \-Q' 
 
 “ Opinions on such subjects vary much in dif- 
 ferent countries,” said Marmaduke ; “ but it is 
 not as ornaments that I value the noble trees of 
 this country; it is for their usefulness. We are 
 stripping the forests, as if a single year would re- 
 place what we destroy. But the hour approaches 
 when the laws will take notice of not only the 
 woods, but the game they contain also.” 
 
 With this consoling reflection, Marmaduke re- 
 mounted, and the equestrians passed the sugar- 
 camp, on their way to the promised landscape of 
 
A RIDE AMONG THE MOUNTAINS. 
 
 101 
 
 Richard. The wood-chopper was left alone, in 
 the bosom of the forest, to pursue his labors. 
 Elizabeth turned her head, when they reached the 
 point where they were to descend the mountain, 
 and thought that the slow fires that were glim- 
 mering under his enormous kettles, his little brush 
 •helter, covered with pieces of hemlock bark, his 
 gigantic size, as he wielded his ladle with a steady 
 and knowing air, aided by the background of 
 stately trees, with their spouts and troughs, 
 formed, altogether, no unreal picture of human 
 life in its first stages of civilization. Perhaps what- 
 ever the scene possessed of a romantic charac- 
 ter was not injured by the powerful tones of Kir- 
 by’s voice ringing through the woods, as he again 
 awoke his strains to another tune, which was but 
 little more scientific than the former. All that 
 she understood of the words were : 
 
 “ And when the proud forest is falling 1 , 
 
 To my oxen cheerfully calling, 
 
 From morn until night I am bawling, 
 
 Woe, back there, and hoy and gee ; 
 
 Till our labor is mutually ended, 
 
 By my strength and cattle befriended. 
 
 And against the musquitoes defended, 
 
 By the bark of the walnut-tree. 
 
 “ Away 1 then, you lads who would buy land, 
 
 Choose the oak that grows on the high land, 
 
 Or the silvery pine on the dry land, 
 
 It matters but little to me.” 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 “Speed! Mahse, speed! such cause of haste 
 Thine active sinews never braced.” 
 
 Scott. 
 
 The roads of Otsego, if we except the princi- 
 pal highways, were, at the early day of our tale, 
 but little better than wood-paths. The high trees 
 that were growing on the very verge of the wheel- 
 tracks excluded the sun’s rays, unless at merid- 
 ian ; and the slowness of the evaporation, united 
 with the rich mould of vegetable decomposition 
 that covered the whole country to the depth of 
 several inches, occasioned but an indifferent foun- 
 dation for the footing of travellers. Added to 
 these were the inequalities of a natural surface, 
 and the constant recurrence of enormous and 
 slippery roots that were laid bare by the removal 
 of the light soil, together with stumps of trees, 
 to make a passage not only difficult but danger- 
 ous. Yet the riders, among these numerous ob- 
 structions, which were such as would terrify an 
 unpractised eye, gave no demonstrations of un- 
 
 easiness, as their horses toiled through the 
 sloughs, or trotted with uncertain paces along 
 the dark route. In many places, the marks on 
 the trees were the only indications of a road, 
 with perhaps an occasional remnant of a piae, 
 that, by being cut close to the earth, so as to 
 leave nothing visible but its base of roots, spread- 
 ing for twenty feet in every direction, was appar- 
 ently placed there as a beacon to warn the trav- 
 eller that it was the centre of a highway. 
 
 Into one of these roads the active sheriff led 
 the way, first striking out of the foot-path, by 
 which they had descended from the sugar-bush, 
 across a little bridge, formed of round logs laid 
 loosely on sleepers of pine, in which large open- 
 ings of a formidable width were frequent. The 
 nag of Richard, when it reached one of these 
 gaps, laid its nose along the logs, and stepped 
 across the difficult passage with the sagacity of a 
 man ; but the blooded filly which Miss Temple 
 rode disdained so humble a movement. She 
 made a step or two with an unusual caution, and 
 then on reaching the broadest opening, obedient 
 to the curb and whip of her fearless mistress, she 
 bounded across the dangerous pass with the ac- 
 tivity of a squirrel. 
 
 “ Gently, gently, my child,” said MarmaCluke, 
 who was following in the manner of Richard, 
 “ this is not a country for equestrian feats. Much 
 prudence is requisite to journey through our 
 rough paths with safety. Thou mayst practise 
 thy skill in horsemanship on the plains of New 
 Jersey with safety ; but in the hills of Otsego they 
 may be suspended for a time.” 
 
 “ I may as well then relinquish my saddle at 
 once, dear sir,” returned his daughter ; “ for if it 
 is to be laid aside until this wild country be im- 
 proved, old age will overtake me, and put an end 
 to what you term my equestrian feats.” 
 
 “ Say not so, my child,” returned her father ; 
 “ but if thou venturest again, as in crossing this 
 bridge, old age will never overtake thee, but I 
 shall be left to mourn thee, cut off in thy pride, 
 my Elizabeth. If thou hadst seen this district 
 of country, as I did, when it lay in the sleep of 
 nature, and had witnessed its rapid changes, as it 
 awoke to supply the wants of man, thou wouldst 
 curb thy impatience for a little time, though thou 
 shouldst not check thy steed.” 
 
 “ I recollect hearing you speak of your first 
 visit to these woods, but the impression is faint, 
 and blended with the confused images of child- 
 hood. Wild and unsettled as it may yet seem, it 
 must have been a thousand times more dreary 
 then. Will you repeat, dear sir, what you then 
 thought of your enterprise, and what vou felt ? ” 
 
102 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 During this speech of Elizabeth, which was 
 uttered with the fervor of affection, young Ed- 
 wards rode more closely to the side of the Judge, 
 and bent his dark eyes on his countenance with 
 an expression that seemed to read his thoughts. 
 
 “ Thou wast then : young, my child, but must 
 remember when I left thee and thy mother, to 
 take my first survey of these uninhabited moun- 
 tains,” said Marmaduke. “But thou dost not 
 feel all the secret motives that can urge a man to 
 endure privations in order to accumulate wealth. 
 In my case they have not been trifling, and God 
 has been pleased to smile on my efforts. If I 
 have encountered pain, famine, and disease, in 
 accomplishing the settlement of this rough terri- 
 tory, I have not the misery of failure to add to 
 the grievances.” 
 
 “ Famine ! ” echoed Elizabeth ; I thought 
 this was the land of abundance ! had you famine 
 to contend with ? ” 
 
 “ Even so, my child,” said her father. “ Those 
 who look around them now, and see the loads of 
 produce that issue out of every wild path in these 
 mountains, during the season of travelling, will 
 hardly credit that no more than five years have 
 elapsed, since the tenants of these woods were 
 compelled to eat the scanty fruits of the forest 
 to sustain life, and, with their unpractised skill, 
 to hunt the beasts as food for their starving fami- 
 lies.” 
 
 “ Ay ! ” cried Richard, who happened to 
 overhear the last of this speech, between the 
 notes of the wood-chopper’s song, which he was 
 endeavoring to breathe aloud ; “ that was the 
 starving time,* cousin Bess. I grew as lank as 
 a weasel that fall, and my face was as pale as one 
 of your fever-and-ague visages. Monsieur Le 
 Quoi, there, fell away like a pumpkin in drying ; 
 nor do I think you have , got fairly over it yet, 
 monsieur. Benjamin, I thought, bore it with a 
 worse grace than any of the family ; for he swore 
 it was harder to endure than a short allowance 
 in the calm latitudes. Benjamin is a sad fellow 
 
 * The author has no better apology for Interrupting the 
 interest of a work of fiction by these desultory dialogues, 
 than that they have reference to facts. In reviewing his 
 work, after so many years, he is compelled to confess it is 
 injured by too many illusions to incidents that are not at 
 all suited to satisfy the just expectations of the general 
 reader. One of these events is slightly touched on, in the 
 commencement of this chapter. 
 
 More than thirty years since, a very near and dear rela- 
 tive of the writer, an elder sister and a second mother, was 
 killed by a fall from a horse, in a ride among the very 
 mountains mentioned in this tale. Few of her sex and 
 years were more extensively known, or more universally 
 beloved, than the admirable woman who thus fell a victim 
 to the chances of the wilderness. 
 
 to swear, if you starve him ever so little. I bad 
 half a mind to quit you then, ’duke, and to go 
 into Pennsylvania to fatten ; but, damn it, thinks 
 I, we are sister’s children, and I will live or dip 
 with him, after all.” 
 
 “I do not forget thy kindness,” said Ma,ima- 
 duke, “ nor that we are of one blood.” , 
 
 “But, my dear father,” cried the wondering 
 Elizabeth, “was there actual suffering? w r here 
 were the beautiful and fertile vales of the Mo- 
 hawk ? could they not furnish food for your 
 wants?” 
 
 “ It was a season of scarcity ; the necessities 
 of life commanded a high price in Europe, and 
 were greedily sought after by the speculators. 
 The emigrants, from the East to the West, invari- 
 ably passed along the valjey of the Mohawk, and 
 swept away the means of subsistence, like a 
 swarm of locusts. Nor were the people on the 
 Flats in a much better condition. They were in 
 want themselves, but they spared the little excess 
 of provisions that Nature did not absolutely re- 
 quire, with the justice of the German character. 
 There was no grinding of the poor. The word 
 speculator was then unknown to them. I have 
 seen many a stout man, bending under the load 
 of the bag of meal, which he was carrying from 
 the mills of the Mohawk, through the rugged 
 passes of these mountains, to feed his half-fam- 
 ished children, with a heart so light, as he ap- 
 proached his hut, that the thirty miles he had 
 passed seemed nothing. Remember, my child, it 
 was in our very infancy ; we had neither mills, 
 nor grain, nor roads, nor often clearings ; we had 
 nothing of increase, but the mouths that were to 
 be fed ; for, even at that inauspicious moment, 
 the restless spirit of emigration was not idle; 
 nay, the general scarcity which extended to the 
 East, tended to increase the number of adventur- 
 ers.” 
 
 “ And how, dearest father, didst thou encoun- 
 ter this dreadful evil ? ” said Elizabeth, uncon- 
 sciously adopting the dialect of her parent in the 
 warmth of her sympathy. “Upon thee must 
 have fallen the responsibility, if not the suffer- 
 ing.” 
 
 “ It did, Elizabeth,” returned the Judge, paus- 
 ing for a single moment, as if musing on his for- 
 mer feelings. “ I had hundreds, at that dreadful 
 time, daily looking up to me for bread. The suf- 
 ferings of their families, and the gloomy prospect 
 before them, had paralyzed the enterprise and 
 efforts of my settlers ; hunger drove them to the 
 woods for food, but despair sent them at night, 
 enfeebled and wan, to a sleepless pillow. It was 
 not a moment for inaction. I purchased cargoes 
 
FIRST INTERVIEW WITH LEATHER-STOCKING. 
 
 103 
 
 of wheat from the granaries of Pennsylvania ; 
 they were landed at Albany, and brought up the 
 Mohawk in boats ; from thence it was transported 
 on pack-horses into the wilderness, and distribu- 
 ted among my people. Seines were made, and 
 the lakes and rivers were dragged for fish. Some- 
 thing like a miracle was wrought in our favor, 
 for enormous shoals of herrings were discovered 
 to have wandered five hundred miles, through the 
 windings of the impetuous Susquehanna, and the 
 .ake was alive with their pumbers. These were 
 at length caught, and dealt out to the people, 
 with proper portions of salt ; and from that mo- 
 ment we again began to prosper.” * 
 
 . “ Yes,” cried Richard, “ and I was the man 
 who served out the fish and salt. When the poor 
 devils came to receive their rations, Benjamin, 
 who was my deputy, was obliged to keep them off 
 by stretching ropes around me, for they smelt, so 
 of garlic, from eating nothing but the wild onion, 
 that the fumes put me . out often in my measure- 
 ment. You were a child then, Bess, and knew 
 nothing of the matter* for great care was observed 
 to keep both you and your mother from suffering. 
 That year put me back dreadfully, both in the 
 breed of my hogs and of my turkeys.” 
 
 “No, Bess,” cried the Judge, in a more cheer- 
 ful tone, disregarding the interruption of his 
 cousin, “ he who hears of the settlement of a coun- 
 try knows but little of the toil and suffering by 
 which it is accomplished. Unimproved and wild 
 as this district now seems to your eyes, what was 
 it when I first entered the hills 1 I left my party, 
 the morning of my arrival, near the farms of the 
 Cherry Valley, and, following a deer-path, rode to 
 the summit of the mountain that I have since 
 called Mount Vision ; for the sight that there met 
 my eyes seemed to me as the deceptions of a dream. 
 The fire had run over the pinnacle, and, in a 
 great measure, laid open the view. The leaves were 
 fallen, and I mounted a tree, and sat for an hour 
 looking on the silent wilderness. Not an opening 
 was to be seen in the boundless forest, except 
 where the lake lay, like a mirror of glass. The 
 water was covered by myriads of the wild-fowl 
 that migrate with the changes in the season ; and, 
 while in my situation on the branch of the beech, 
 I saw a bear, with her cubs, descend to the shore 
 to drink. I had met many deer, gliding through 
 the woods, in my journey ; but not the vestige of 
 a man could I trace during my progress, nor from 
 Diy elevated observatory. No clearing, no hut, 
 none of the winding roads that are now to be seen, 
 were there ; nothing but mountains rising behind 
 mountains ; and the valley, with its surface of 
 
 branches, enlivened here and there with the faded 
 foliage of some tree, that parted from its leaves 
 with more than ordinary reluctance. Even the 
 Susquehanna was then hid, by the height and 
 density of the forest.” 
 
 “And were you alone?” asked Elizabeth j 
 “ passed you the night in that solitary state ? ” 
 
 “Not so, my child,” returned the father. 
 “ After musing on the scene for an hour, with a 
 a mingled feeling of pleasure and desolation, I left 
 my perch and descended the mountain. My horse 
 was left to browse on the twigs that grew within 
 his reach, w'hile I explored the shores of the lake, 
 and the spot where Templeton stands. A pine of 
 more than ordinary growth stood where my dwell- 
 ing is now placed ! a windrow had been opened 
 through the trees from thence to the lake, and 
 my view was but little impeded. Under the 
 branches of that tree I made my solitary dinner ; 
 I had just finished my repast as I saw smoke curl- 
 ing from under the mountain, near the eastern 
 bank of the lake. It was the only indication of the 
 vicinity of man that I had then seen. After much 
 toil I made my way to the spot, and found a 
 rough cabin of logs, built against the foot of a 
 rock, and bearing the marks of a tenant, though 
 I found no one within it — ” 
 
 “ It was the hut of Leather-stocking,” said 
 Edwards, quickly. 
 
 “ It was ; though I at first supposed it to be 
 a habitation of the Indians. But, while I was lin- 
 gering around the spot, Natty made his appear- 
 ance, staggering under the carcass of a buck that 
 he had slain. Our acquaintance commenced at 
 that time ; before, I had never heard that such a 
 being tenanted the woods. He launched his bark 
 canoe, and set me across the foot of the lake, to 
 the place where I had fastened my horse, and 
 pointed out a spot where he might get a scanty 
 browsing until the morning ; when I returned and 
 passed the night in the cabin of the hunter.” 
 
 Miss Temple was so much struck by the deep 
 attention of young Edwards, during this speech, 
 that she forgot to resume her interrogatories; 
 but the youth himself continued the discourse, by 
 asking : 
 
 “ And how did the Leather-stocking discharge 
 the duties of a host, sir ? ” 
 
 “ Why, simply but kindly, until late in the 
 evening, when he discovered my name and object, 
 and the cordiality of his manner very sensibly 
 diminished, or, I might better say, disappeared. 
 He considered the introduction of the settlers 
 as an innovation on his rights, I believe ; for he 
 expressed much dissatisfaction at the measure, 
 though it was in his confused and ambiguous man- 
 
 * All this was literally true. 
 
104 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 ner. I hardly understood his objections myself, 
 but supposed they referred chiefly to an interrup- 
 tion of the hunting.” 
 
 “ Had you then purchased the estate, or were 
 you examining it with an intent to buy ? ” asked 
 Edwards, a little abruptly. 
 
 “ It had been mine for several years. It was 
 with a view to people the land that I visited the 
 lake. Natty treated me hospitably, but coldly, I 
 thought, after he learned the nature of my jour- 
 ney. I slept on his own bear-skin, however, and 
 in the morning joined my surveyors again.” 
 
 “ Said he nothing of the Indian rights, sir ? 
 The Leather-stocking is much given to impeach 
 the justice of the tenure by which the whites hold 
 the country.” 
 
 “ I remember that he spoke of them, but I did 
 not clearly comprehend him, and may have for- 
 gotten what he said ; for the Indian title was ex- 
 tinguished so far back as the close of the old war ; 
 and, if it had not been at all, I hold under the 
 patents of the Royal Governors, confirmed by an 
 act of our own State Legislature, and no court in 
 the country can affect my title.” 
 
 “ Doubtless, sir, your title is both legal and 
 equitable,” returned the youth, coldly, reining his 
 horse back, and remaining silent till the subject 
 was changed. 
 
 It was seldom Mr. Jones suffered any conver- 
 sation to continue for a great length of time with- 
 out his participation. It seems that he was of 
 the party that Judge Temple had designated as 
 his surveyors ; and he embraced the opportunity 
 of the pause that succeeded the retreat of young 
 Edwards, to take up the discourse, and with a 
 narration of their further proceedings, after his 
 own manner. As it wanted, however, the interest 
 that had accompanied the description of the 
 Judge, we must decline the task of committing 
 his sentences to paper. 
 
 They soon reached the point where the prom- 
 ised view was to be seen. It was one of those 
 picturesque and peculiar scenes that belong to the 
 Otsego, but which required the absence of the ice, 
 and the softness of a summer’s landscape, to be 
 enjoyed in all its beauty. Marmaduke had early 
 forewarned his daughter of the season, and of its 
 effect on the prospect ; and, after casting a cursory 
 glance at its capabilities, the party returned home- 
 ward, perfectly satisfied that its beauties would 
 repay them for the toil of a second ride, at a more 
 propitious season. 
 
 “ The spring is the gloomy time of the Ameri- 
 can year,” said the Judge ; “ and it is more pecu- 
 liarly the case in these mountains. The winter 
 seems to retreat to the fastnesses of the hills, as 
 
 to the citadel of its dominion, and is only expelled 
 after a tedious siege, in which either party, at 
 times, would seem to be gaining the victory.” 
 
 “ A very just and apposite figure, Judge Tem- 
 ple,” observed the sheriff* ; “ and the garrison un- 
 der the command of Jack Frost make formidable 
 sorties — you understand what I mean by sorties, 
 monsieur ; sallies in English— and sometimes 
 drive General Spring and his troops back again 
 into the low countries.” 
 
 “Yes, sair,” returned the Frenchman, whose 
 prominent eyes were watching the precarious 
 footsteps of the beast he rode, as it picked its 
 dangerous way among the roots of trees, holes, 
 log bridges, and sloughs, that formed the aggre- 
 gate of the highway. “ Je vous entends; de low 
 countrie is freeze up for half de year.” 
 
 The error of Mr. Le Quoi was not noticed by 
 the sheriff* ; and the rest of the party were yielding 
 to the influence of the changeful season, which was 
 already teaching the equestrians that a continuance 
 of its mildness was not to be expected for any 
 length of time. Silence and thoughtfulness suc- 
 ceeded the gayety and conversation that had 
 prevailed during the commencement of the ride, 
 as clouds began to gather about the heavens, 
 apparently collecting from every quarter, in 
 quick motion, without the agency of a breath of 
 air. 
 
 While riding over one of the cleared emi- 
 nences that occurred in their route, the watchful 
 eye of Judge Temple pointed out to his daughter 
 the approach of a tempest. Flurries of snow 
 already obscured the mountain that formed the 
 northern boundary of the lake, and the genial 
 sensation which had quickened the blood through 
 their veins, was already succeeded by the deaden- 
 ing influence of an approaching northwester. 
 
 All of the party were now busily engaged in 
 making the best of their way to the village, 
 though the badness of the roads frequently com- 
 pelled them to check the impatience of their 
 animals, which often carried them over places 
 that would not admit of any gait faster than a 
 walk. 
 
 Richard continued in advance, followed by 
 Mr. Le Quoi ; next to whom rode Elizabeth, who 
 seemed to have imbibed the distance which per- 
 vaded the manner of young Edwards, since the 
 termination of the discourse between the latter 
 and her father. Marmaduke followed his daugh- 
 ter, giving her frequent and tender warnings as 
 to the management of her horse. It was, pos- 
 sibly, the evident dependence that Louisa Grant 
 placed on his assistance, which induced the youth 
 to continue by her side, as they pursued their 
 
ACCIDENTS OF THE FOREST. 
 
 105 
 
 way through a dreary and dark wood, where the 
 rays of the sun could but rarely penetrate, and 
 where even the daylight was obscured and ren- 
 dered gloomy by the deep forests that surrounded 
 them. No wind had yet reached the spot where 
 the equestrians were in motion, but that dead 
 stillness that often precedes a storm contributed 
 to render their situation more irksome than if 
 they were already subject to the fury of the tem- 
 pest. Suddenly the voice of young Edwards was 
 heard shouting in those appalling tones that carry 
 alarm to the very soul, and which curdle the blood 
 of those that hear them : 
 
 “ A tree ! a tree ! whip — spur for your lives ! 
 a tree ! a tree 1 ” 
 
 “ A tree ! a tree ! ” echoed Richard, giving his 
 horse a blow that caused the alarmed beast to 
 jump nearly a rod, throwing the mud and water 
 into the air like a hurricane. 
 
 “ V on tree ! von tree ! ” shouted the Frenchman, 
 bending his body on the neck of his charger, shut- 
 ting his eyes, and playing on the ribs of his beast 
 with his heels at a rate that caused him to be 
 conveyed on the crupper of the sheriff with a 
 marvellous speed. 
 
 Elizabeth checked her filly, and looked up, 
 with an unconscious but alarmed air, at the very 
 cause of their danger, while she listened to the 
 crackling sounds that awoke the stillness of the 
 forest ; but the next instant her bridle was seized 
 by her father, who cried : 
 
 “ God protect my child ! ” and she felt her- 
 self hurried onward, impelled by the vigor of his 
 nervous arm. 
 
 Each one of the party bowed to his saddle-bows, 
 as the tearing of branches was succeeded by a 
 sound like the rushing of the winds, which was 
 followed by a thundering report, and a shock that 
 caused the very earth to tremble, as one of the 
 noblest ruins of the forest fell directly across 
 their path. 
 
 One glance was enough to assure Judge Tem- 
 ple that his daughter, and those in front of him, 
 were safe, and he turned his eyes, in dreadful 
 anxiety, to learn the fate of the others. Young 
 Edwards was on the opposite side of the tree, his 
 form thrown back in his saddle to its utmost dis- 
 tance, his left hand drawing up his bridle with its 
 greatest force, while the right grasped that of 
 Miss Grant, so as to draw the head of her horse 
 under its body. Both the animals stood shaking 
 in every joint with terror, and snorting fearfully. 
 Louisa herself had relinquished her reins, and, 
 with her hands pressed on her face, sat bending 
 forward in her saddle, in an attitude of despair, 
 mingled strangely with resignation. 
 
 “ Are you safe ? ” cried the Judge, first break- 
 ing the awful silence of the moment. 
 
 “ By God’s blessing,” returned the youth ; “ but 
 if there had been branches to the tree we must 
 have been lost — ” 
 
 He was interrupted by the figure of Louisa 
 slowly yielding in her saddle ; and but for his arm 
 she would have sunk to the earth. Terror, how- 
 ever, was the only injury that the clergyritan’s 
 daughter had sustained, and, with the aid of T Eliz- 
 abeth, she was soon restored to her senses. After 
 some little time was lost in recovering her strength, 
 the young lady was replaced in her saddle, and, 
 supported on either side by Judge Temple and 
 Mr. Edwards, she was enabled to follow the party 
 in their slow progress. 
 
 “ The sudden fallings of the trees,” said Mar- 
 maduke, “ are the most dangerous accidents in the 
 forest, for they are not to be foreseen, being im- 
 pelled by no winds, nor any extraneous or visible 
 cause against which we can guard.” 
 
 “ The reason of their falling, Judge Temple, is 
 very obvious,” said the sheriff. “ The tree is old 
 and decayed, and it is gradually weakened by the 
 frosts, until a line drawn from the centre of grav- 
 ity falls without its base, and then the tree comes 
 of a certainty ; and I should like to know what 
 greater compulsion there can be for any thing 
 than a mathematical certainty. I studied mathe — ” 
 
 “Very true, Richard,” interrupted Marma- 
 duke ; “ thy reasoning is true, and if my memory 
 be not over-treacherous, was furnished by myself 
 on a former occasion. But how is one to guard 
 against the danger ? canst thou go through the 
 forests, measuring the bases, and calculating the 
 centres of the oaks ? answer me that, friend 
 Jones, and I will say thou wilt do the country a 
 service.” 
 
 “Answer thee that, friend Temple ! ” returned 
 Richard ; “ a well-educated man can answer thee 
 any thing, sir. Do any trees fall in this manner 
 but such as are decayed ? Take care not to ap- 
 proach the roots of a rotten tree, and you will be 
 safe enough.” 
 
 “ That would be excluding us entirely from 
 the forests,” said Marmaduke. “But, happily, 
 the winds usually force down most of these dan- 
 gerous ruins, as their currents are admitted into 
 the woods by the surrounding clearings, and such 
 a fall as this has been is very rare.” 
 
 Louisa, by this time, had recovered so much 
 strength as to allow the party to proceed at a 
 quicker pace, but, long before they were safely 
 housed, they were overtaken by the storm ; and, 
 when they dismounted at the door of the mansion- 
 house, the black plumes of Miss Temple’s hat 
 
loe 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 were drooping with the weight of a load of damp 
 snow, and the coats of the gentlemen were pow- 
 dered with the same material. 
 
 While Edwards was assisting Louisa from her 
 horse, the warm-hearted. girl caught his hand with 
 ervor, and whispered : 
 
 “Now, Mr. Edwards, both father and daugh- 
 ter owe their lives to you.” 
 
 ^•driving northwesterly storm succeeded, and 
 before the sun was set every vestige of spring 
 had vanished ; the lake, the mountains, the village, 
 and the fields, being again hidden under one daz- 
 zling coat of snow. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 “Men, boys, and girls, 
 
 Desert th’ unpeopled village ; and wild crowds 
 
 Spread o’er the plain, by the sweet phrensy driven.” 
 
 SOMEKVILLE. 
 
 From this time to the close of April the weath- 
 er continued to be a succession of great and rapid 
 changes. One day, the soft airs of spring seemed 
 to be stealing along the valley, and, in unison with 
 an invigorating sun, attempting covertly to rouse 
 the dormant powers of the vegetable world ; while, 
 on the next, the Surly blasts from the north would 
 sweep across the lake, and erase every impres- 
 sion left by their gentle adversaries. The snow, 
 however, finally disappeared, and the green wheat- 
 fields were seen in every, direction, spotted with 
 the dark and charred stumps that had, the pre- 
 ceding season, supported some of the proudest 
 trees of the forest. Ploughs were in motion, 
 wherever those useful implements could be used, 
 and the smokes of the sugar-camps were no lon- 
 ger seen issuing from the woods of maple. The 
 lake had lost the beauty of a field of ice, but still 
 a dark and gloomy covering concealed its waters* 
 for the absence of currents left them yet hidden 
 under a porous crust, which, saturated with the 
 fluid, barely retained enough strength to preserve 
 the contiguity of its parts. Large flocks of wild 
 geese were seen passing over the country, which 
 hovered, for a time, around the hidden sheet of 
 water, apparently searching for a resting-place ; 
 and then, on finding themselves excluded by the 
 chill covering, would soar away to the north, fill- 
 ing the air with discordant screams, as if venting 
 their complaints at the tardy operations of Nature. 
 
 For a week, the dark covering of the Otsego 
 was left to the undisturbed possession of two 
 eagles, who alighted on the centre of its field, and 
 eat eying their undisputed territory. During the 
 presence of these monarchs of the air, the flocks 
 
 of migrating birds avoided crossing the plain of ice, 
 by turning into the hills, apparently seeking the 
 protection of the forests, while the white and 
 bald heads of the tenants of the lake were turned 
 upward, with a look of contempt. But the time 
 had come, when even these kings of birds were to 
 be dispossessed. An opening had been gradually 
 increasing at the lower extremity of the lake, and 
 around the dark spot where the current of the 
 river prevented the formation of ice, during even 
 the coldest weather ; and the fresh southerly 
 winds, that now breathed freely upon the valley, 
 made an impression on the waters. Mimic waves 
 began to curl over the margin of the frozen field, 
 which exhibited an outline of crystallizations that 
 slowly receded toward the north. At each step 
 the power of the winds and the waves increased, 
 until, after a struggle of a few hours, the turbu. 
 lent little billows succeeded in setting the whole 
 field in motion, when it was driven beyond the 
 reach of the eye, With a rapidity that was as magi- 
 cal as the change produced in the scene by this 
 expulsion of the lingering remnant of winter. 
 Just as the last sheet of agitated ice was disap- 
 pearing in the distance, the eagles rose, and 
 soared with a wide sweep above the clouds, while 
 the waves tossed their little caps cf snow into the 
 air, as if rioting in their release from a thraldom 
 of five months’ duration. 
 
 The following morning Elizabeth was awa- 
 kened by the exhilarating sounds of the martins, 
 who were quarrelling and chattering around the 
 little boxes suspended above her windows, and the 
 cries of Richard, who was calling in tones animat- 
 ing as signs of the season itself : 
 
 “ Awake ! awake ! my fair lady 1 the gulls are 
 hovering over the lake already, and the heavens 
 are alive with pigeons. You may look an hour 
 before you can find a hole through which to get a 
 peep at the sun. Awake ! awake ! lazy ones ! 
 Benjamin is overhauling the ammunition, and we 
 only wait for our breakfasts, and away for the 
 mountains and pigeon-shooting.” 
 
 There was no resisting this animated appeal, 
 and in a few minutes Miss Temple and her friend 
 descended to the parlor. The doOrs of the hall 
 were thrown open, and the mild, balmy air of a 
 clear spring morning was ventilating the apart- 
 ment, where the vigilance of the ex-steward had 
 been so long maintaining an artificial heat with 
 such unremitted diligence. The gentlemen were 
 impatiently waiting for their morning’s repast, 
 each equipped in the garb of a sportsman. Mr. 
 Jones made many visits 1 to the southern door, 
 and would cry : 
 
 “See, cousin Bess! see, ’duke, the pigeon- 
 
PIGEON-SHOOTING. 
 
 107 
 
 roosts of the south have broken up ! They are 
 growing more thick every instant. Here is a 
 flock that the eye cannot see the end of. There 
 zs food enough in it to keep the army of Xerxes 
 for a month, and feathers enough to make beds 
 for the whole country. Xerxes, Mr. Edwards, 
 was a Grecian king, who — no, he was a Turk, or 
 a Persian, who wanted to conquer Greece, just 
 the same as these rascals will overrun our wheat 
 fields, when they come back in the fall. Away ! 
 away! Bess; I long to pepper them.” 
 
 In this wish both Marmaduke and young 
 Edwards seemed equally to participate, for the 
 sight was exhilarating to a sportsman ; and the 
 ladies soon dismissed the party after a hasty 
 breakfast. 
 
 If the heavens were alive with pigeons, the 
 whole village seemed equally in motion with men, 
 women, and children. Every species of fire-arms, 
 from the French ducking-gun, with a barrel near 
 six feet in length, to the common horseman’s 
 pistol, was to be seen in the hands of the men and 
 boys ; while bows and arrows, some made of the 
 simple stick of a walnut sapling, and others in a 
 rude imitation of the ancient cross-bows, were 
 carried by many of the latter. 
 
 The houses and the signs of life apparent in 
 the village drove the alarmed birds, from the 
 direct line of their flight, toward the mountains, 
 along the sides and near the bases of which they 
 were glancing in dense masses, equally wonder- 
 ful by the rapidity of their motion, and their in- 
 credible numbers. 
 
 We have already said that, across the inclined 
 plane which fell from the steep ascent of the 
 mountain to the banks of the Susquehanna, ran 
 the highway, on either side of which a clearing 
 of many acres had been made at a very early 
 day. Over those clearings, and up the eastern 
 mountain, and along the dangerous path that was 
 cut into its side, the different individuals posted 
 themselves, and in a few moments the attack 
 commenced. 
 
 Among the sportsmen was the tall, gaunt 
 form of Leather-stocking, walking over the field, 
 with his rifle hanging on his arm, his dogs at his 
 heels; the latter now scenting the dead or 
 wounded birds that were beginning to tumble 
 from the flocks, and then crouching under the 
 legs of their master, as if they participated in 
 his feelings at this wasteful and unsportsmanlike 
 execution. 
 
 The reports of the fire-arms became rapid, 
 whole volleys rising from the plain, as flocks of 
 more than ordinary numbers darted over the open- 
 ing, shadowing the field like a cloud ; and then the I 
 
 light smoke of a single piece would issue from 
 among the leafless bushe3 on the mountain, as 
 death was hurled on the retreat of the affrighted 
 birds, who were rising from a volley, in a vain 
 effort to escape. Arrows, and missiles of every 
 kind, were in the midst of the flocks ; and so 
 numerous were the birds, and so low did they 
 take their flight, that even long poles, in the 
 hands of those on the sides of the mountain, 
 were used to strike them to the earth. 
 
 During all this time, Mr. Jones, who dis- 
 dained the humble and ordinary means of de- 
 struction used by his companions, was busily oc- 
 cupied, aided by Benjamin, in making arrange- 
 ments for an assault of more than ordinarily fatal 
 character. Among the relics of the old military ex- 
 cursions, that occasionally are discovered through- 
 out the different districts of the western part of 
 New York, there had been found in Templeton, 
 at its settlement, a small swivel, which would 
 carry a ball of a pound weight. , It was thought 
 to have been deserted by a war party of the 
 whites, in one of their inroads into the Indian 
 settlements, when, perhaps, convenience or their 
 necessity induced them to leave such an incum- 
 brance behind them in the woods. This minia- 
 ture cannon had been released from the rust, and, 
 being mounted on little wheels, was now in a 
 state for actual service. For several years, it was 
 the sole organ for extraordinary rejoicings used 
 in those mountains. On the mornings of the 
 Fourth of July, it would be heard ringing among 
 the hills; and even Captain Hollister, who was 
 the highest authority in that part of the country 
 on all such occasions, affirmed that, considering 
 its dimensions, it was no despicable gun for a 
 salute. It was somewhat the worse for the ser- 
 vice it had performed, it is true, there being but 
 a trifling difference in size between the touch-hole 
 and the muzzle. Still, the grand conceptions of 
 Richard had suggested the importance of such an 
 instrument in hurling death at his nimble ene- 
 mies. The swivel was dragged by a horse into a 
 part of the open space that the sheriff thought 
 most eligible for planting a battery of the kind, 
 and Mr. Pump proceeded to load it. Several 
 handsful of duck-shot were placed on top of the 
 powder, and the major-domo announced that his 
 piece was ready for service. 
 
 The sight of such an implement collected all 
 the idle spectators to the spot, who, being mostly 
 boys, filled the air with cries of exultation and 
 delight. The gun was pointed high, and Richard, 
 holding a coal of fire in a pair of tongs, patiently 
 took his seat on a stump, awaiting the appear- 
 ance of a flock worthy of his notice. 
 
108 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 So prodigious wa9 the number of the birds, 
 that the scattering fire of the guns, with the 
 huriing of missiles, and the cries of the boys, 
 had no other effect than to break off* small flocks 
 from the immense masses that continued to dart 
 along the valley, as if the whole of the feathered 
 tribe were pouring through that one pass. None 
 pretended to collect the game, which lay scat- 
 tered over the fields in such profusion as to cover 
 the very ground with the fluttering victims. 
 
 Leather-stocking was a silent, but uneasy 
 spectator of all these proceedings, but was able 
 to keep his sentiments to himself Until he saw the 
 introduction of the swivel into the sports. 
 
 “ This comes of settling a country ! ” he said ; 
 “ here have I known the pigeon to fly for forty 
 long years, and, till you made your clearings, 
 there was nobody to skear oy to hurt them. I 
 loved to see them come into the woods, for they 
 were company to a body ; hurting nothing ; being, 
 as it' was, as harmless as a garter-snake. But 
 now it gives me sore thoughts when I hear the 
 frighty things whizzing through the air, for I 
 know it’s only a motion to bring out all the brats 
 in the village. Well! the Lord won’t see the 
 waste of his creatures for nothing, and right will 
 be done to the pigeons, as well as others, by-and- 
 by. There’s Mr. Oliver, as bad as the rest of 
 them, firing into the flocks, as if he was shooting 
 down nothing but Mingo warriors.” 
 
 Among the sportsmen was Billy Kirby, who, 
 armed with an old musket, was loading, and, 
 without even looking into the air, Was firing and 
 shouting as his victims fell even on his own per- 
 son. He heard the speech of Natty, and took 
 upon himself to reply : 
 
 “ What ! old Leather-stocking,” he cried, 
 “ grumbling at the loss of a few pigeons ! If you 
 had to sow your wheat twice, and three times, as 
 I have done, you wouldn’t be so massyfully feel- 
 ing toward the divils. — Hurrah, boys ! scatter 
 the feathers ! This is better than shooting at a 
 turkey’s head and neck, old fellow.” 
 
 “It’s better for you, maybe, Billy Kirby,” 
 replied the indignant old hunter, “ and ■ all them 
 that don’t know how to put a ball down a rifle 
 barrel, or how to bring it up again with a true 
 aim ; but it’s wicked to be shooting into flocks in 
 this wasty manner ; and none do it, who know 
 how to knock over a single bird. If a body has 
 a craving for pigeon’s flesh, why, it’s made the 
 same as all other creatures, for man’s eating ; but 
 not to kill twenty and eat one. When I want 
 such a thing I go into the woods till I find one to 
 my liking, and then I shoot him off the branches, 
 without touching the feather of another, though 
 
 there might be a hundred on the same ti©«. 
 You couldn’t do such a thing, Billy Kirby — you 
 couldn’t do it, if you tried.” 
 
 “What’s that, old corn-stalk! you sapless 
 stub!” cried the wood-chopper. “You have 
 grown wordy, since the affair of the turkey ; but 
 if you are for a single shot, here goes at that bird 
 which comes on by himself.” 
 
 The fire from the distant part of the field had 
 driven a single pigeon below the flock to which 
 it belonged, and, frightened with the constant 
 reports of the muskets, it was approaching the 
 spot where the disputants stood, darting first 
 from one side and then to the other, cutting the 
 air with the swiftness of lightning, and making 
 a noise with its wings, not unlike the rushing of 
 a bullet. Unfortunately for the wood-chopper, 
 notwithstanding his vaunt, he did not see this 
 bird until it was too late to fire as it approached, 
 and he pulled his trigger at the unlucky moment 
 when it was darting immediately over his head. 
 The bird continued its course with the usual ve- 
 locity. 
 
 Natty lowered the rifle from his arm when the 
 challenge was made, and waiting a moment, until 
 the terrified victim had got in a line with his eye, 
 and had dropped near the bank of the lake, he 
 raised it again with uncommon rapidity, and 
 fired. It might have been chance, or it might 
 have been skill, that produced the result ; it was 
 probably a union of both ; but the pigeon whirled 
 over in the air, and fell into the lake, with a 
 broken wing. At the sound of his rifle, both his 
 dogs started from his feet, and in a few minutes 
 the “ slut ” brought out the bird, still alive. 
 
 The wonderful exploit of Leather-stocking 
 was noised through the field with great rapidity, 
 and the sportsmen gathered in, to learn the truth 
 of the report. 
 
 “What!” said young Edwards, “have you 
 really killed a pigeon on the wing, Natty, with a 
 single ball ? ” 
 
 “ Haven’t I killed loons before now, lad, that 
 dive at the flash?” returned the hunter. “It’s 
 much better to kill only such as you want, with- 
 out wasting your powder and lead, than to be 
 firing into God’s creatures in this wicked man- 
 ner. But I came out for a bird, and you know 
 the reason why I like small game, Mr. Oliver, and 
 now I have got one I will go home, for I don’t 
 relish to see these wasty ways that you are all 
 practysing, as if the least thing wasn’t made for 
 use, and not to destroy.” 
 
 “ Thou sayest well, Leather-stocking.” cried 
 Marmaduke, “ and I begin to think it time to put 
 an end to this work of destruction.” 
 
LEATHER-STOCKING’S REMONSTRANCE. 
 
 109 
 
 “ Put an ind, Judge, to your clearings. An’t 
 the woods His work as well as the pigeons ? Use, 
 but don’t waste. Wasn’t the woods made for the 
 beasts and birds to harbor in ? and when man 
 wanted their flesh, their skins, or their feathers, 
 there’s the place to seek them. But I’ll go to the 
 hut with my own game, for I wouldn’t touch one 
 of the harmless things that cover the ground here, 
 looking up with their eyes on me, as if they only 
 wanted tongues to say their thoughts.” 
 
 With this sentiment in his mouth, Leather- 
 stocking threw his rifle over his arm, and, fol- 
 lowed by his dogs, stepped across the clearing 
 with great caution, taking care not to tread on 
 one of the wounded birds in his path. He soon 
 entered the bushes on the margin of the lake and 
 was hid from view. 
 
 Whatever impression the morality of Natty 
 made on the Judge, it was utterly lost on Rich- 
 ard. He availed himself of the gathering of the 
 sportsmen, to lay a plan for one “ fell swoop ” 
 of destruction. The musket men were drawn 
 up in battle array, in a line extending on each 
 side of his artillery, with orders to await the sig- 
 nal of firing from himself. 
 
 “Stand by, my lads,” said Benjamin, who 
 acted as an aide-de-camp on this occasion, “ stand 
 by, my hearties, and when Squire Dickens heaves 
 out the signal to begin firing, d’ye see, you may 
 open upon them in a broadside. Take care and 
 fire low, boys, and you’ll be sure to hull the 
 flock;” 
 
 “Fire low ! ” shouted Kirby : “ hear the old 
 fool ! If we fire low, we may hit the stumps, but 
 not ruffle a pigeon.” 
 
 “ How should you know, you lubber ? ” cried 
 Benjamin, with a very unbecoming heat for an 
 officer on the eve of battle— “ how should you 
 know, you grampus ? Haven’t I sailed aboard 
 of the Boadishy for five years ? and wasn’t it a 
 standing order to fire low, and to hull your ene- 
 my ? Keep silence at your guns, boys, and mind 
 the order that is passed.”' 
 
 The loud laughs of the musket men were si- 
 lenced by the more authoritative voice of Richard, 
 who called for attention and obedience to his 
 signals. 
 
 Some millions of pigeons were supposed to 
 have already passed, that morning, over the val- 
 ley of Templeton; but nothing like the flock 
 that was now approaching had been seen before. 
 It extended from mountain to mountain in one 
 solid blue mass, and the eye looked in vain, over 
 the southern hills, to find its termination. The 
 front of this living column was distinctly marked 
 by a line but very slightly indented, so regular 
 
 and even was the flight. Even Marmaduke for- 
 got the morality of Leather-stocking as it ap- 
 proached, and, in common with the rest, brought 
 his musket to a poise. 
 
 “ Fire ! ” cried the sheriff, clapping a coal to 
 the priming of the cannon. As half of Benja- 
 min’s charge escaped through the touch-hole, the 
 whole volley of the musketry preceded the report 
 of the swivel. On receiving this united discharge 
 of small-arms, the front of the flock darted up- 
 ward, while, at the same instant, myriads of those 
 in the rear rushed with amazing rapidity into 
 their places, so that, when the column of white 
 smoke gushed from the mouth of the little can- 
 non, an accumulated mass of objects was gliding 
 over its point of direction. The roar of the gun 
 echoed along the mountains, and died away to the 
 north, like distant thunder, while the whole flock 
 of alarmed birds seemed, for a moment, thrown 
 into one disorderly and agitated mass. The air 
 was filled with their irregular flight, layer rising 
 above layer, far above the tops of the highest 
 pines, none daring to advance beyond the danger- 
 ous pass ; when, suddenly, some of the leaders 
 of the feathered tribe shot across the valley, tak- 
 ing their flight directly over the village, and hun- 
 dreds of thousands in their rear followed the ex- 
 ample, deserting the eastern side of the plain to 
 their persecutors and the slain. 
 
 “ Victory ! ” shouted Richard, “ victory ! we 
 have driven the enemy from the field.” 
 
 “ Not so, Dickon,” said Marmaduke : “ the 
 field is covered with them ; and, like the Leather- 
 stocking, I see nothing but eyes, in every direc- 
 tion, as the innocent sufferers turn their heads in 
 terror. Full one-half of those that have fallen 
 are yet alive ; and I think it is time to end the 
 sport, if sport it be.” 
 
 “Sport!” cried the sheriff; “it is princely 
 sport ! There are some thousands of the blue- 
 coated boys on the ground, so that every old 
 woman in the village may have a pot-pie for the 
 asking.” 
 
 “Well, we have happily frightened the birds 
 from this side of the valley,” said Marmaduke, 
 “ and the carnage must of necessity end, for the 
 present. Boys, I will give you sixpence a hun- 
 dred for the pigeons’ heads only ; so go to work, 
 and bring them into the village.” 
 
 This expedient produced the desired effect, 
 for every urchin on the ground went industrious- 
 ly to work to wring the necks of the wounded 
 birds. Judge Temple retired toward his dwelling 
 with that kind of feeling that many a man has 
 experienced before him, who discovers, after the 
 excitement of the moment has passed, that ha 
 
110 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 has purchased pleasure at the price of misery to 
 others. Horses were loaded with the dead ; and, 
 after this first burst of sporting, the shooting of 
 pigeons became a business, with a few idlers, Tor 
 the remainder of the season. Richard, however, 
 boasted, for many a year, of his shot with the 
 “ cricket ; ” and Benjamin gravely asserted, that 
 he thought they had killed nearly as many pig- 
 eons on that day, as there were Frenchmen de- 
 stroyed on the memorable occasion of Rodney’s 
 victory. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 “ Help, masters, help ; here’s a fish hangs In the net, 
 like a poor man’s right in the law.” 
 
 Pebicles of Ttre. 
 
 The advance of the season now became as 
 rapid as its first approach had been tedious and 
 lingering. The days were uniformly mild, while 
 the nights, though cool, were no longer chilled by 
 frosts. The whippoorwill was heard whistling 
 his melancholy notes along the margin of the lake, 
 and the ponds and meadows were sending forth 
 the music of their thousand tenants. The leaf 
 of the native poplar was seen quivering in the 
 woods ; the sides of the mountains began to lose 
 their hue of brown, as the lively green of the 
 different members of the forest blended their 
 shades with the permanent colors of the pine and 
 hemlock ; and even the buds of the tardy oak 
 were swelling with the promise of the coming 
 summer. The gay and fluttering blue-bird, the 
 social robin, and the industrious little wren, were 
 all to be seen enlivening the fields with their pres- 
 ence and their songs ; while the soaring fish-hawk 
 was already hovering over the waters of the Ot- 
 sego, watching, with native voracity, for the ap- 
 pearance of his prey. 
 
 The tenants of the lake were far-famed for 
 both their quantities and their quality, and the 
 ice had hardly disappeared, before numberless 
 little boats were launched from the shores, and 
 the lines of the fishermen were dropped into the 
 inmost recesses of its deepest caverns, tempting 
 the unwary animals with every variety of bait 
 that the ingenuity or the art of man had invented. 
 But the slow though certain adventures with hook 
 and line were ill suited to the profusion and im- 
 patience of the settlers. More destructive means 
 were resorted to ; and, as the season had now ar- 
 rived when the bass-fisheries were allowed by the 
 provisions of the law that Judge Temple had pro- 
 
 \ 
 
 cured, the sheriff declared his intention, by avail- 
 ing himself of the first dark night, to enjoy the 
 sport in person. 
 
 “ And you shall be present, cousin Bess,” he 
 added, when he announced this design, “ and Miss 
 Grant, and Mr. Edwards ; and I will show you 
 what I call fishing — not nibble, nibble, nibble, as 
 ’duke does when he goes after the salmon-trout. 
 There he will sit for hours, in a broiling sun, or, 
 perhaps, over a hole in the ice, in the coldest 
 days in winter, under the lee of a few bushes, and 
 not a fish will he catch, after all this mortification 
 of the flesh. No, no — give me a good seine 
 that’s fifty or sixty fathoms in length, with a 
 jolly parcel of boatmen to crack their jokes the 
 while, with Benjamin to steer, and let us haul them 
 in by thousands ; I call that fishing.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Dickon,” cried Marmaduke, “ thou 
 knowest but little of the pleasure there is in play- 
 ing with the hook and line, or thou wouldst be more 
 saving of the game. I have known thee to leave 
 fragments enough behind thee, when thou hast 
 headed a night-party on the lake, to feed a dozen 
 famishing families.” 
 
 “ I shall not dispute the matter, Judge Tem- 
 ple ; this night will I go ; and I invite the com- 
 pany to attend, and then let them decide between 
 us.” 
 
 Richard was busy, during most of the after- 
 noon, making his preparations for the important 
 occasion. Just as the light of the setting sun had 
 disappeared, and a new moon had begun to throw 
 its shadows on the earth, the fishermen took their 
 departure in a boat, for a point that was situated 
 on the western shore of the lake, at the distance 
 of rather more than half a mile from the village. 
 The ground had become settled, and the walking 
 was good and dry. Marmaduke, with his daughter, 
 her friend, and young Edwards, continued on the 
 high grassy banks at the outlet of the placid 
 sheet of water, watching the dark object that was 
 moving across the lake, until it entered the shade 
 of the western hills, and was lost to the eye. The 
 distance round by land to the point of destination 
 was a mile, and he observed : 
 
 “It is time for us to be moving ; the moon 
 will be down ere we reach the point, and then 
 the miraculous hauls of Dickon will commence.” 
 
 The evening was warm, and, after the long and 
 dreary winter from which they had just escaped, 
 delightfully invigorating. Inspirited by the scene 
 and their anticipated amusement, the youthful 
 companions of the Judge followed his steps, as he 
 led them along the shores of the Ostego, and 
 through the skirts of the village. 
 
 “ See ! ” said young Edwards, “ they are build* 
 
A FISHING-PARTY ON LAKE OTSEGO. 
 
 Ill 
 
 fag their fire already ; it glimmers for a moment, 
 and dies again like the light of a fire-fly.” 
 
 “Now it blazes,” cried Elizabeth ; “you can 
 perceive figures moving around the light. Oh ! I 
 would bet my jewels against the gold beads of 
 Remarkable, that my impatient cousin Dickon 
 had an agency in raising that bright flame : and 
 see ; it fades again, like most of his brilliant 
 schemes.” 
 
 “ Thou hast guessed the truth, Bess,” said her 
 father ; “ he has thrown an armful of brush on 
 the pile, which has burnt out as soon as lighted. 
 But it has enabled them to find a better fuel, for 
 their fire begins to blaze with a more steady flame. 
 It is the true fisherman’s beacon now ; observe 
 how beautifully it throws its little circle of light 
 on the water 1 ” 
 
 The appearance of the fire urged the pedes- 
 trians on, for even the ladies had become eager 
 to witness the miraculous draught. By the time 
 they reached the bank, which rose above the low 
 point where the fishermen had landed, the moon 
 had sunk behind the tops of the western pines, 
 and, as most of the stars were obscured by clouds, 
 there was but little other light than that which 
 proceeded from the fire. At the suggestion of 
 Marmaduke, his companions paused to listen to 
 the conversation of those below them, and exam- 
 ine the party for a moment before they descended 
 to the shore. 
 
 The whole group were seated around the fire, 
 with the exception of Richard and Benjamin ; the 
 former of whom occupied the root of a decayed 
 stump, that had been drawn to the spot as part 
 of their fuel, and the latter was standing, with 
 his arfas a-kimbo, so near to the flame, that the 
 •smoke occasionally obscured his solemn visage, 
 as it waved around the pile, in obedience to the 
 night airs that swept gently over the water. 
 
 “ Why, look you, squire,” said the major-domo, 
 “ you may call a lake-fish that will weigh twenty 
 or thirty pounds a serious matter ; but to a man 
 who has hauled in a shovel-nosed shirk, d’ye See, 
 t’s but a poor kind of fishing, after all.” 
 
 “I don’t know, Benjamin,” returned the 
 sheriff; “a haul of one thousand Otsego bass, 
 without counting pike, pickerel, perch, bull-pouts, 
 salmon-trouts, and suckers, is no bad fishing, let 
 me tell you. There may be sport in sticking a 
 shark, but what is he good for after you have got 
 him ? Now, any one of the fish that 1 have named 
 is fit to set before a king.” 
 
 “Well, squire,” returned Benjamin, “just 
 listen to the philosophy of the thing. Would it 
 stand to reason, that such fish should live and 
 be catched in this here little pond of water, where 
 
 it’s hardly deep enough to drown a man, as you’ll 
 find in the wide ocean, where, as everybody knows, 
 that is, everybody that has followed the seas, 
 whales and grampuses are to be seen, that are as 
 long as one of the pine-trees on yonder moun- 
 tain ? ” 
 
 “ Softly, softly, Benjamin,” said the sheriff, 
 as if he wished to save the credit of his favorite } 
 “ why, some of the pines will measure two hundred 
 feet, and even more.” 
 
 “ Two hundred or two thousand, it’s all the 
 same thing,” cried Benjamin, with an air which 
 manifested that he was not easily to be bullied 
 out of his opinion, on a subject like the present. 
 “ Haven’t I been there, and haven’t I seen ? I 
 have said that you fall in with whales as long as 
 one of them there pines ; and what I have once 
 said I’ll stand to ! ” 
 
 During this dialogue, which was evidently but 
 the close of a much longer discussion, the huge 
 frame of Billy Kirby was seen extended on one 
 side of the fire, where he was picking his teeth 
 with splinters of the chips near him, and occasion- 
 ally shaking his head with distrust of Benjamin’s 
 assertions. 
 
 “ I’ve a notion,” said the wood-chopper, “ that 
 there’s water in this lake to swim the biggest 
 whale that ever was invented ; and, as to the 
 pines, I think I ought to know so’thing consarn- 
 ing them ; I have chopped many a one that was 
 sixty times the length of my helve, without count- 
 ing the eye : and I believe, Benny, that if the old 
 pine that stands in the hollow of the Vision 
 Mountain, just over the village — you may see the 
 tree itself by looking up, for the moon is on its 
 top yet — well, now I believe, if that same tree 
 was planted out in the deepest part of the lake, 
 there would be water enough for the biggest ship 
 that ever was built to float over it, without touch- 
 ing its upper branches, I do.” 
 
 “ Did’ee ever see a ship, Master Kirby ? ” roared 
 the steward ; “ did’ee ever see a ship, man ? oi 
 any craft bigger than a lime-scow, or a wood-boat, 
 on this here small bit of fresh water ? ” 
 
 “ Yes, I have,” said the wood-chopper, stout- 
 ly ; “I can say that I have, and tell no lie.” 
 
 “ Did’ee ever see a British ship, Master Kir- 
 by ? an English line-of-battle ship, boy ? Where 
 away did’ee ever fall in with a regular-built ves- 
 sel, with starn-post and cut- water, garboard-streak 
 and blank-shear, gangways, and hatchways, and 
 waterways, quarter-deck, and forecastle, ay, and 
 flush-deck ? — tell me that, man, if you can ; where 
 away did’ee ever fall in with a full-rigged, regular- 
 built, decked vessel ? ” 
 
 The whole company were a good deal as- 
 
I 
 
 112 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 tounded with this overwhelming question, and 
 even Richard afterward remarked, that it “ was a 
 thousand pities that Benjamin could not read, or 
 he must have made a valuable officer to the Brit- 
 ish marine. It is no wonder that they overcame 
 the French so easily on the water, when even the 
 lowest sailor so well understood the different parts 
 of a vessel.” But Billy Kirby was a fearless 
 wight, and had great jealousy of foreign dictation ; 
 he had risen on his feet, and turned his back to 
 the fire, during the voluble delivery of this inter- 
 rogatory; and, when the steward ended, contra- 
 ry to all expectation, he gave the following spir- 
 ited reply : 
 
 “ Where ! why, on the North River, and may- 
 be on Champlain. There’s sloops on the river, 
 boy, that would give a hard time on’t to the 
 stoutest vessel King George owns. They carry 
 masts of ninety feet in the clear of good solid 
 pine, for I’ve been at the chopping of many a one 
 in Yarmount State. I wish I was captain in one 
 of them, and you was in that Board-dish that you 
 talk so much about ; and we’d soon see what 
 good Yankee stuff is made on, and whether a 
 Yarmounter’s hide an’t as thick as an English- 
 man’s.” 
 
 The echoes from the opposite hills, which 
 were more than half a mile from the fishing point, 
 6ent back the discordant laugh that Benjamin 
 gave forth at this challange ; and the woods that 
 covered their sides seemed, by the noise that is- 
 sued from their shades, to be full of mocking de- 
 mons. 
 
 “Let us descend to the shore,” whispered 
 Marmaduke, “ or there will soon be ill-blood be- 
 tween them. Benjamin is a fearless boaster; 
 and Kirby, though good-natured, is a careless 
 son of the forest, who thinks one American more 
 than a match for six Englishmen. I marvel that 
 Dickon is silent, where there is such a trial of 
 skill in the superlative ! ” 
 
 The appearance of Judge Temple and the la- 
 dies produced, if not a pacification, at least a ces- 
 sation of hostilities. Obedient to the directions 
 of Mr. Jones, the fishermen prepared to launch 
 their boat, which had been seen in the back- 
 ground of the view, with the net carefully dis- 
 posed on a little platform in its stern, ready for 
 service. Richard gave vent to his reproaches at 
 the tardiness of the pedestrians, when all the 
 turbulent passions of the party were succeeded by 
 a calm, as mild and as placid as that which pre- 
 vailed over the beautiful sheet of water that they 
 were about to rifle of its best treasures. 
 
 The night had now become so dark as to ren- 
 der objects, without the reach of the light of the 
 
 fire, not only indistinct, but in most cases invis. 
 ible. For a little distance the water was discern 
 ible, glistening, as the glare from the fire danced 
 over its surface, touching it here and there with 
 red quivering streaks ; but, at a hundred feet from 
 the shore, there lay a boundary of impenetrable 
 gloom. One or two stars were shining through 
 the openings of the clouds, and the lights were 
 seen in the village, glimmering faintly, as if at an 
 immeasurable distance. At times, as the fire low- 
 ered, or as the horizon cleared, the outline of the 
 mountain, on the other side of the lake, might be 
 traced by its undulations ; but its shadow was 
 cast, wide and dense, on the bosom of the wa- 
 ter, rendering the darkness in that direction 
 trebly deep. 
 
 Benjamin Pump was invariably the cockswain 
 and net-caster of Richard’s boat, unless the sher- 
 iff saw fit to preside in person ; and, on the pres- 
 ent occasion, Billy Kirby, and a youth of about 
 half his strength, were assigned to the oars. The 
 remainder of the assistants were stationed at the 
 drag- ropes. The arrangements were speedily 
 made, and Richard gave the signal to “ shove 
 off.” 
 
 Elizabeth watched the motion of the batteau 
 as it pulled from the shore, letting loose its rope 
 as it went, but it soon disappeared in the dark- 
 ness, when the ear was her only guide to its evo- 
 lutions. There was great affectation of stillness 
 during all these manoeuvres, in order, as Richard 
 assured them, “not to frighten the bass, who 
 were running into the shoal waters, and who 
 would approach the light if not disturbed by the 
 sounds from the fishermen.” 
 
 The hoarse voice of Benjamin was alone heard 
 issuing out of the gloom, as he uttered, in author- 
 itative tones, “pull larboard oar,” “pull star- 
 board,” “ give way together, boys,” and such other 
 dictative mandates as were necessary for the right 
 disposition of his seine. A long time was passed 
 in this necessary part of the process, for Benja- 
 min prided himself greatly on his skill in throwing 
 the net, and, in fact, most of the success of the 
 sport depended on its being done with judgment. 
 At length a loud splash in the water, as he threw 
 away the “ staff,” or “ stretcher,” with a hoarse 
 call from the steward, of “ clear,” announced that 
 the boat was returning ; when Richard seized a 
 brand from the fire, and ran to a point, as far 
 above the centre of the fishing-ground, as the one 
 from which the batteau had started was below 
 it. 
 
 “Stick her in dead for the squire, boys,” 
 said the steward, “ and we’ll have a look at what 
 grows in this here pond.” 
 
HAULING THE SEINE. 
 
 113 
 
 In place of the falling net were now to be 
 heard the quick strokes of the oars, and the noise 
 of the rope running out of the boat. Presently 
 the batteau shot into the circle of light, and in an 
 instant she was pulled to the shore. Several 
 eager hands were extended to receive the line, 
 and, both ropes being equally well manned, the 
 fishermen commenced hauling in with slow and 
 steady drags, Richard standing in the centre, giv- 
 ing orders, first to one party, and then to the 
 other, to increase or slacken their efforts, as oc- 
 casion required. The visitors were posted near 
 him, and enjoyed a fair view of the whole opera- 
 tion, which was slowly advancing to an end. 
 
 Opinions as to the result of their adventure 
 were now freely hazarded by all the men, some 
 declaring that the net came in as light as a feath- 
 er, and others affirming that it seemed to be full 
 of logs. As the ropes were many hundred feet 
 in length, these opposing sentiments were thought 
 to be of little moment by the sheriff, who would 
 go first to one line, and then to the other, giving 
 each a small pull, in order to enable him to form 
 an opinion for himself. 
 
 “ Why, Benjamin,” he cried, as he made his 
 first effort in this way, “ you did not throw the 
 net clear. I can move it with my little finger. 
 The rope slackens in my hand.” 
 
 “Did you ever see a whale, squire ?” respond- 
 ed the steward : “I say that, if that there net is 
 foul, the devil is in the lake in the shape of a fish, 
 for I cast it as fair as ever rigging was;rove over the 
 quarter-deck of a flag-ship.” 
 
 But Richard discovered his mistake, when he 
 saw Billy Kirby before him, standing with his 
 feet in the water, at an angle of forty-five degrees, 
 inclining southward, and expending his gigantic 
 strength in sustaining himself in that posture. 
 He ceased his remonstrances, and proceeded to 
 the party at the other line. 
 
 “ I see the ‘ staffs,’ ” shouted Mr. Jones — 
 “ gather in, boys, and away with it ; to shore 
 with her ! — to shore with her ! ” 
 
 At this cheerful sound, Elizabeth strained her 
 eyes and saw the ends of the two sticks on the 
 seine emerging from the darkness, while the men 
 closed near to each other, and formed a deep bag 
 of their net. The exertions of the fishermen sen- 
 sibly increased, and the voice of Richard was heard 
 encouraging them to make their greatest efforts 
 at the present moment. 
 
 “ Now’s the time, my lads,” he cried ; “ let us 
 get the ends to land, and all we have will be our 
 own — away with her ! ” 
 
 “ Away with her, it is,” echoed Benjamin ! — 
 “hurrah ! ho-a-hoy, ho-a-hoy, ho-a ! ” 
 
 47 
 
 “In with her,” shouted Kirby, exerting him- 
 self in a manner that left nothing for those in his 
 rear to do, but to gather up the slack of the rope 
 which passed through his hands. 
 
 “ Staff, ho ! ” shouted the steward. 
 
 “Staff, ho!” echoed Kirby, from the other 
 rope. 
 
 The men rushed to the water’s edge, some 
 seizing the upper rope, and some the lower, or 
 lead-rope, and began to haul with great activity 
 and zeal. A deep semicircular sweep of the little 
 balls that supported the seine in its perpendicular 
 position, was plainly visible to the spectators, and, 
 as it rapidly lessened in size, the bag of the net 
 appeared, while an occasional flutter on the water 
 announced the uneasiness of the prisoners it con- 
 tained. 
 
 “ Haul in, my lads,” shouted Richard — “ I can 
 see the dogs kicking to get free. Haul in, and 
 here’s a cast that will pay for the labor.” 
 
 Fishes of various sorts were now to be seen, 
 entangled in the meshes of the net, as it was 
 passed through the hands of the laborers; and 
 the water, at a little distance from the shore, was 
 alive with the movements of the alarmed victims. 
 Hundreds of white sides were glancing up to the 
 surface of the water, and glistening in the fire- 
 light, when, frightened at the uproar and the 
 change, the fish would again dart to the bottom, 
 in fruitless efforts for freedom. 
 
 “ Hurrah ! ” shouted Richard : “ one or two 
 more heavy drags, boys, and we are safe.” 
 
 “ Cheerily, boys, cheerily ! ” cried Benjamin ; 
 “I see a salmon-trout that is big enough for a 
 chowder.” 
 
 “ Away with you, you varmint ! ” said Billy 
 Kirby, plucking a bull-pout from the meshes, and 
 casting the animal back into the lake with con- 
 tempt. “Pull, boys, pull; here’s all kinds, and 
 the Lord condemn me for a liar, if there an’t a 
 thousand bass ! ” 
 
 Inflamed beyond the bounds of discretion at 
 the sight, and forgetful of the season, the wood- 
 chopper rushed to his middle into the water, and 
 began to drive the reluctant amimals before him 
 from their native element. 
 
 “ Pull heartily, boys,” cried Marmaduke, yield- 
 ing to the excitement of the moment, and laying 
 his hands to the net, with no trifling addition to 
 the force. Edward's had preceded him ; for the 
 sight of the immense piles of fish, that were slowly 
 rolling over on the gravelly beach, had impelled 
 him also to leave the ladies, and join the fisher- 
 men. 
 
 Great care was observed in bringing the net 
 to land, and, after much toil, the whole shoal of 
 
114 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 victims was safely deposited in a hollow of the 
 bank, where they were left to flutter away their 
 brief existence in the new and fatal element. 
 
 Even Elizabeth and Louisa were greatly ex- 
 cited and highly gratified by seeing two thousand 
 captives thus drawn from the bosom of the lake, 
 and laid prisoners at their feet. But when the 
 feelings of the moment were passing away, Mar- 
 maduke took in his hands a bass, that might have 
 weighed two pounds, and after viewing it a mo- 
 ment, in melancholy musing, he turned to his 
 daughter, and observed : 
 
 “ This is a fearful expenditure of the choicest 
 gifts of Providence. These fish, Bess, which thou 
 seest lying in such piles before thee, and which 
 by to-morrow evening will be rejected food on the 
 meanest table in Templeton, are of a quality and 
 flavor that, in other countries, would make them 
 esteemed a luxury on the tables of princes or 
 epicures. The world has no better fish than the 
 bass of Otsego: it unites the richness of the 
 shad * to the firmness of the salmon.” 
 
 « But surely, dear sir,” cried Elizabeth, “ they 
 must prove a great blessing to the country, and 
 a powerful friend to the poor.” 
 
 “The poor are always prodigal, my child, 
 where there is plenty, and seldom think of a pro- 
 vision against the morrow. But, if there can be 
 any excuse for destroying animals in this manner, 
 it is in taking the bass. During the winter, you 
 know, they are entirely protected from our as- 
 saults by the ice, for they refuse the hook ; and 
 during the hot months they are not seen. It is 
 supposed they retreat to the deep and cool waters 
 of the lake, at that season ; and it is only in the 
 spring and autumn that, for a few days, they are 
 to be found around the points where they are 
 within the reach of a seine. But, like all the 
 other treasures of the wilderness, they already 
 begin to disappear before the wasteful extrava- 
 gance of man.” 
 
 “Disappear, ’duke! disappear!” exclaimed 
 the sheriff; “if you don’t call this appearing, I 
 know not what you will. Here are a good thou- 
 sand of the shiners, some hundreds of suckers, 
 and a powerful quantity of other fry. But this is 
 always the way with you, Marmaduke ; first it’s 
 the trees, then it’s the deer, after that it’s the 
 maple sugar, and so on to the end of the chapter. 
 One day you talk of canals through a country 
 where there’s a river or a lake every half-mile, 
 just because the water won’t run the way you 
 wish it to go ; and, the next, you say something 
 about mines of coal, though any man who has 
 
 * Of all the fish the writer has ever tasted, he thinks 
 the one in question the best. 
 
 good eyes like myself — I say with good eyes — can 
 see more wood than would keep the city of Lon- 
 don in fuel for fifty years ; wouldn’t it, Benja- 
 min ? ” 
 
 “Why, for that, squire,” said the steward. 
 
 “ Lon’on is no small place. If it was stretched an 
 end, all the same as a town on one side of a river, 
 it would cover some such matter as this here lake. 
 Tho’f I dar’st to say, that the wood in sight might 
 sarve them a good turn, seeing that the Lon’oners 
 mainly burn coal.” 
 
 “ Now we are on the subject of coal, Judge 
 Temple,” interrupted the sheriff, “ I have a thing 
 of much importance to communicate to you ; but 
 I will defer it until to-morrow. I know that you 
 intend riding into the eastern part of the Patent, 
 and I will accompany you, and conduct you to a 
 spot where some of your projects may be realized. 
 We will say no more now, for there are listeners 5 
 but a secret has this evening been revealed to me, 
 ’duke, that is of more consequence to your wel» 
 fare than all your estate united.” 
 
 Marmaduke laughed at the important intelli- 
 gence, to which in a variety of shapes he was accus- 
 tomed, and the sheriff, with an air of great dignity, 
 as if pitying his want of faith, proceeded in the 
 business more immediately before them. As the 
 labor of drawing the net had been very great, he 
 directed one party of his men to commence throw- 
 ing the fish into piles, preparatory to the usual 
 division, while another, under the superinten- 
 dence of Benjamin, prepared the seine for a sec- 
 ond haul. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIY. 
 
 “ While from its margin, terrible to tell ! 
 
 Three sailors with their gallant boatswain felL” 
 
 Falconeb. 
 
 While the fishermen were employed in mak- 
 ing the preparations for an equitable division of 
 the spoil, Elizabeth and her friend strolled a short 
 distance from the group, along the shore of the 
 lake. After reaching a point, to which even the 
 brightest of the occasional gleams of the fire did 
 not extend, they turned, and paused a moment, in 
 contemplation of the busy and lively party they 
 had left, and of the obscurity, which, like tho 
 gloom of oblivion, seemed to envelop the rest of 
 the creation. 
 
 “ This is indeed a subject for the pencil ! ” ex 
 claimed Elizabeth. “ Observe the countenance of 
 that wood-chopper, while he exults in presenting 
 a larger fish than common to my cousin sheriff; 
 
VISIT OF NATTY AND MOHEGAN. 
 
 115 
 
 and see, Louisa, how handsome and considerate 
 my dear father looks, by the light of that fire, 
 where he stands Tiewing the havoc of the game, 
 lie seems melancholy, as if he actually thought 
 that a day of retribution was to follow this hour 
 of abundance and prodigality l Would they not 
 make a picture, Louisa ? ” 
 
 “ You know that I am ignorant of all such ac- 
 complishments, Miss Temple.” 
 
 “ Call me by my Christian name,” interrupted 
 Elizabeth ; “ this is not a place, neither is this a 
 scene, for forms.” 
 
 “Well, then, if I may venture an opinion,” 
 said Louisa, timidly, “ I should think it might in- 
 deed make a picture. The selfish earnestness of 
 that Kirby over his fish would contrast finely with 
 the — the — expression of Mr. Edwards’s face. I 
 Hardly know what to call it ; but it is — a — is — 
 you know what I would say, dear Elizabeth.” 
 
 “ You do me too much credit, Miss Grant,” said 
 the heiress ; “ I am no diviner of thoqghts, or in- 
 terpreter of expressions.” 
 
 There was certainly nothing harsh, or even 
 cold, in the manner of the speaker, but still it re- 
 pressed the conversation, and they continued to 
 stroll still farther from the party, retaining each 
 other’s arm, but observing a profound silence. 
 Elizabeth, perhaps, conscious of the improper 
 phraseology of her last speech, or perhaps excited 
 by the new objoct that met her gaze, was the first 
 to break the awkward cessation in the discourse, 
 by exclaiming : 
 
 “ Look, Louisa ! we are not alone; there are 
 fishermen lighting a fire on the other side of the 
 lake, immediately opposite to us ; it must be in 
 front of the cabin of Leather-stocking ! ” 
 
 Through the obscurity, which prevailed most 
 immediately under the eastern mountain, a small 
 and uncertain light was plainly to be seen, though, 
 as it was occasionally lost to the eye, it seemed 
 struggling for existence. They observed it to 
 move, and sensibly to lower, as if carried down 
 the descent of the bank to the shore. Here, in a 
 very short time, its flame gradually expanded, 
 and grew brighter, until it became of the size of 
 a man’s head, when it continued to shine a steady 
 ball of fire. Such an object, lighted as it were by 
 magic, under the brow of the mountain, and in 
 that retired and unfrequented place, gave double 
 interest to the beauty and singularity of its ap- 
 pearance. It did not at all resemble the large and 
 unsteady light of their own fire, being much more 
 clear and bright, and retaining its size and shape 
 with perfect uniformity. 
 
 There are moments when the best-regulated 
 minds are more or less subjected to the injurious 
 
 impressions which few have escaped in infancy ; 
 and Elizabeth smiled at her own weakness, while 
 she remembered the idle tales which were circu- 
 lated through the village, at the expense of the 
 Leather-stocking. The same ideas seized her 
 companion, and at the same instant, for Louisa 
 pressed nearer to her friend, as she said in a low 
 voice, stealing a timid glance toward the bushes 
 and trees that overhung the bank near them : 
 
 “ Did you ever hear the singular ways of this 
 Natty spoken of, Miss Temple ? They say that, 
 in his youth, he was an Indian warrior ; or, what 
 is the same thing, a white man leagued with the 
 savages ; and it is thought he has been concerned 
 in many of their inroads, in the old wars.” 
 
 “ The thing is not at all improbable,” returned 
 Elizabeth ; “ he is not alone in that particular.” 
 
 “ No, surely ; but is it not strange that he is 
 so cautious with his hut ? He never leaves it, 
 without fastening it in a remarkable manner; and 
 in several instances, when the children, or even 
 the men of the village, have wished to seek a 
 shelter there from the storms, he has been known 
 to drive them from his door with rudeness and 
 threats. That, surely, is singular in this coun- 
 try ! ” 
 
 “ It is certainly not very hospitable ; but we 
 must remember his aversion to the customs of 
 civilized life. You heard my father say, a few 
 days since, how kindly he was treated by him on 
 his first visit to his place.” Elizabeth paused, 
 and smiled, with an expression of peculiar arch- 
 ness, though the darkness hid its meaning from 
 her companion, as she continued — “ Besides, he 
 certainly admits the visits of Mr. Edwards, whom 
 we both know to be far from a savage.” 
 
 To this speech Louisa made no reply; but 
 continued gazing on the object which had elicit- 
 ed her remarks. In addition to the bright and 
 circular flame, w r as now to be seen a fainter, 
 though a vivid light, of an equal diameter to the 
 other at the upper end ; but which, after extend- 
 ing downward for many feet, gradually tapered 
 to a point at its lower extremity. A dark space 
 was plainly visible between the two ; and the 
 new illumination was placed beneath the other ; 
 the whole forming an appearance not unlike an 
 inverted note of admiration It was soon evident 
 that the latter was nothing but the reflection, 
 from the water, of the former ; and that the ob- 
 ject, whatever it might be, was advancing across, 
 or rather over, the lake, for it seemed to be sev- 
 eral feet above its surface, in a direct line with 
 themselves. Its motion was amazingly rapid, 
 the ladies having hardly discovered that it wa* 
 moving at all, before the waving light of a flams 
 
116 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 was discerned, losing its regular shape, while it 
 increased in size, as it approached. 
 
 “ It appears to be supernatural ! ” whispered 
 Louisa, beginning to retrace ner steps toward the 
 party. 
 
 “ It is beautiful ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth. 
 
 A brilliant, though waving flame, was now 
 plainly visible, gracefully gliding over the lake, 
 and throwing its light on the water in such a 
 manner as to tinge it slightly ; though in the air, 
 so strong was the contrast, the darkness seemed 
 to have the distinctness of material substances, 
 as if the fire were imbedded in a setting of ebony. 
 This appearance, however, gradually wore off; 
 and the rays from the torch struck out, and en- 
 lightened the atmosphere in front of it, leaving 
 the background in a darkness that was more im- 
 penetrable than ever. 
 
 “ Ho ! Natty, is that you ? ” shouted the 
 sheriff. “Paddle in, old boy, and I’ll give you 
 a mess of fish that is fit to place before the gov- 
 ernor.” 
 
 The light suddenly changed its direction, and 
 a long and slightly-built boat hove up out of the 
 gloom, while the red glare fell ou the weather- 
 beaten features of the Leather-stocking, whose 
 tall person was seen erect in the frail vessel, 
 wielding, with the grace of an experienced boat- 
 man, a long fishing-spear, which he held by its 
 centre, first dropping one end and then the other 
 into the water, to aid in propelling the little ca- 
 noe of bark, we will not say through, but over, 
 the water. At the farther end of the vessel a 
 form was faintly seen, guiding its motions, and 
 using a paddle with the ease of one who felt 
 there was no necessity for exertion. The Leather- 
 stocking struck his spear lightly against the short 
 staff which upheld, on a rude grating framed of 
 old hoops of iron, the knots of pine that com- 
 posed the fuel, and the light, which glared high, 
 for an instant fell on the swarthy features, and 
 dark, glancing eyes of Mohegan. 
 
 The boat glided along the shore until it ar- 
 rived opposite the fishing-ground, when it again 
 changed its direction, and moved on to the land, 
 with a motion so graceful, and yet so rapid, that 
 it seemed to possess the power of regulating its 
 own progress. The water in front of the canoe 
 was hardly ruffled by its passage, and no sound 
 betrayed the collision, when the light fabric shot 
 on the gravelly beach for nearly half its length, 
 Natty receding a step or two from its bow, in 
 order to facilitate the landing. 
 
 “ Approach, Mohegan,” said Marmaduko ; 
 u approach, Leather-stocking, and load your ca- 
 noe with bass. It would be a shame to assail the 
 
 animals with the spear, when such multitudes cf 
 victims lie here, that will be lost as food for the 
 want of mouths to consume them.” 
 
 “No, no, Judge,” returned Natty, his tall 
 figure stalking over the narrow beach, and ascend- 
 ing to the little grassy bottom where the fish 
 were laid in piles: “I eat of no man’s wasty 
 ways. I strike my spear into the eels or the 
 trout, when I crave the creaters ; but I wouldn’t 
 be helping to such a sinful kind of fishing for 
 the best rifle that was ever brought out from the 
 old countries. If they had fur, like the beaver, 
 or you could tan their hides, like a buck, some- 
 thing might be said in favor of taking them by 
 the thousand with your nets ; but as God made 
 them for man’s food, and for no other disarnable 
 reason, I call it sinful and wasty to catch more 
 than can be eat.” 
 
 “ Your reasoning is mine : for once, old hun- 
 ter, we agree in opinion ; and I heartily wish we 
 could make a convert of the sheriff. A net of 
 half the size of this would supply the whole vil- 
 lage with fish for a week at one haul.” 
 
 The Leather-stocking did not relish this alli- 
 ance in sentiment ; and he shook his head doubt- 
 ingly, as he answered : 
 
 “ No, no ; we are not much of one mind, 
 Judge, or you’d never turn good hunting-grounds 
 into stumpy pastures. And you fish and hunt 
 out of rule ; but, to me, the flesh is sweeter where 
 the creater has some chance for its life : for that 
 reason, I always use a single ball, even if it be at 
 a bird or a squirrel. Besides, it saves lead ; for, 
 when a body knows how to shoot, one piece of 
 lead is enough for all, except hard-lived animals.” 
 
 The sheriff heard these opinions with great 
 indignation ; and, when he completed the last ar- 
 rangement for the division, by carrying with his 
 own hands a trout of a large size, and placing it 
 on four different piles in succession, as his vacil- 
 lating ideas of justice required, he gave vent to 
 his spleen. 
 
 “A very pretty confederacy, indeed ! Judge 
 Temple, the landlord and owner of a township, 
 with Nathaniel Bumppo, a lawless squatter, and 
 professed deer-killer, in order to preserve the 
 game of the county 1 But, ’duke, when I fish I 
 fish ; so, away, boys, for another haul, and we’ll 
 send out wagons and carts in the morning, to 
 bring in our prizes.” 
 
 Marmaduke appeared to understand that all 
 opposition to the will of the sheriff would be 
 useless ; and he strolled from the fire to the place 
 where the canoe of the hunters lay, whither the 
 ladies and Oliver Edwards had already preceded 
 him. 
 
A CANOE EXCURSION. 
 
 117 
 
 Curiosity induced the females to approach 
 this spot ; but it was a different motive that led 
 the youth thither. Elizabeth examined the light 
 ashen timbers and thin bark covering of the ca- 
 noe, in admiration of its neat but simple execu- 
 tion, and with wonder that any human being 
 could be so daring as to trust his life in so frail 
 a vessel. But the youth explained to her the 
 buoyant properties of the boat, and its perfect 
 safety when under proper management ; adding, 
 in such glowing terms, a description of the man- 
 ner in which the fish were struck with the spear, 
 that she changed suddenly, from an apprehension 
 of the danger of the excursion, to a desire to par- 
 ticipate in its pleasures. She even ventured a 
 proposition to that effect to her father, laughing 
 at the same time at her own wish, and accusing 
 herself of acting under a woman’s caprice. 
 
 “ Say not so, Bess,” returned the Judge : “ I 
 would have you above the idle fears of a silly 
 girl. These canoes are the safest kind of boats 
 to those who have skill and steady nerves. I 
 have crossed the broadest part of the Oneida in 
 one much smaller than this.” 
 
 “ And I the Outary,” interrupted the Leather- 
 stocking ; “ and that with squaws in the canoe, 
 too. But the Delaware women are used to the 
 paddle, and are good hands in a boat of this na- 
 ter. If the young lady would like to see an old 
 man strike a trout for his breakfast, she is wel- 
 come to a seat. John will say the same, seeing 
 that he built the canoe, which was only launched 
 yesterday ; for I’m not over-curous at such small 
 work as brooms, and basket-making, and other 
 like Indian trades.” 
 
 Natty gave Elizabeth one of his significant 
 laughs, with a kind nod of the head, when he con- 
 cluded his invitation; but Mohegan, with the 
 native grace of an Indian, approached, and tak- 
 ing her soft white hand into his own swarthy and 
 wrinkled palm, said : 
 
 “ Come, grand-daughter of Miquon, and John 
 will be glad. Trust the Indian ; his head is old, 
 though his hand is not steady. The young Eagle 
 will go, and see that no harm hurts his sister.” 
 
 “ Mr. Edwards,” said Elizabeth, blushing 
 slightly, “ your friend Mohegan has given a prom- 
 ise for you. Do you redeem the pledge ? ” 
 
 “With my life, if necessary, Miss Temple,” 
 cried the youth, with fervor. “ The.sight is worth 
 some little apprehension ; for of real danger there 
 is none. I will go with you and Miss Grant, how- 
 ever, to save appearances.” 
 
 “With me!” exclaimed Louisa. “No, not 
 with me, Mr. Edwards ; nor, surely, do you mean 
 to trust yourself in that slight canoe.” 
 
 “ But I shall ; for I have no apprehensions any 
 longer,” said Elizabeth, stepping into the boat, 
 and taking a seat where the Indian directed. 
 “ Mr. Edwards, you may remain, as three do seem 
 to be enough for such an egg-shell.” 
 
 “ It shall hold a fourth,” cried the young man, 
 springing to her side, with a violence that nearly 
 shook the weak fabric of the vessel asunder. 
 “ Pardon me, Miss Temple, that I do not permit 
 these venerable Charons to take you to the shades 
 unattended by your genius.” 
 
 “ Is it a good or evil spirit ? ” asked Eliza- 
 beth. 
 
 “ Good to you.” 
 
 “ And mine,” added the maiden, with an air 
 that strangely blended pique with satisfaction. 
 But the motion of the canoe gave rise to new 
 ideas, and fortunately afforded a good excuse to 
 the young man to change the discourse. 
 
 It appeared to Elizabeth that they glided over 
 the water by magic, so easy and graceful was the 
 manner in which Mohegan guided his little bark. 
 A slight gesture with his spear indicated the way 
 in which Leather-stocking wished to go, and a 
 profound silence was preserved by the whole party, 
 as the precaution necessary to the success of their 
 fishery. At that point of the lake, the water 
 shoaled regularly, differing in this particular, alto- 
 gether, from those parts where the mountains rose, 
 nearly in perpendicular precipices, from the beach. 
 There, the largest vessels could have lain, with 
 their yards interlocked with the pines ; while here 
 a scanty growth of rushes lifted their tops above 
 the lake, gently curling the waters, as their bend- 
 ing heads waved with the passing breath of the 
 night air. It was at the shallow points, only, 
 that the bass could be found, or the net cast 
 with success. 
 
 Elizabeth saw thousands of these fish swim- 
 ming in shoals along the shallow and warm wa- 
 ters of the shore ; for the flaring light of their 
 torch laid bare the mysteries of the lake, as plain- 
 ly as if the limpid sheet of the Otsego was but 
 another atmosphere. Every instant she expected 
 to see the impending spear of Leather-stocking 
 darting into the thronging hosts that were rush- 
 ing beneath her, where it would seem that a blow 
 could not go amiss ; and where, as her father had 
 already said, the prize that would be obtained 
 was worthy any epicure. But Natty had his pecu- 
 liar habits, and, it would seem, his peculiar tastes 
 also. His tall stature, and his erect posture, en- 
 abled him to see much farther than those who 
 were seated in the bottom of the canoe ; and he 
 turned his head warily in every direction, fre- 
 quently bending his body forward, and straining 
 
THE PIONEERS. 
 
 118 
 
 hia vision, as if desirous of penetrating the water 
 that surrounded their boundary of light. At 
 length his anxious scrutiny was rewarded with 
 success, and, waving his spear from the shore, 
 he said in a cautious tone : 
 
 “Send her outside the bass, John; I see a 
 laker there, that has run out of the school. It’s 
 seldom one finds such a creater in shallow water, 
 where a spear can touch it.” 
 
 Mohegan gave a wave of assent with his hand, 
 and in the next instant the canoe was without the 
 “run of the bass,” and in water nearly twenty 
 feet in depth. A few additional knots were laid 
 on the grating, and the light penetrated to the 
 bottom. Elizabeth then saw a fish of unusual 
 size floating above small pieces of logs and sticks. 
 The animal was only distinguishable, at that dis- 
 tance, by a slight but almost imperceptible motion 
 of its fins and tail. The curiosity excited by this 
 unusual exposure of the secrets of the lake seemed 
 to be mutual between the heiress of the land and 
 the lord of these waters, for the “salmon-trout” 
 soon announced his interest by raising his head 
 and body for a few degrees above a horizontal 
 line, and then dropping them again into a hori- 
 zontal .position. 
 
 “ Whist! whist ! ” said Natty, in a low voice, 
 2>n hearing a slight sound made by Elizabeth in 
 bending over the side of the canoe in curiosity ; 
 
 “ ’tis a skeary animal, and it’s a far stroke for a 
 spear. My handle is but fourteen foot, and the 
 creater lies a good eighteen from the top of the 
 water ; but I’ll try him, for he’s a ten-pounder.” 
 
 While speaking, the Leather - stocking was 
 poising and directing his weapon. Elizabeth saw 
 the bright, polished tines, as they slowly and 
 silently entered the water, where the refraction 
 pointed them many degrees from the true direc- 
 tion of the fish ; and she thought that the intended 
 victim saw them also, as he seemed to increase 
 the play of his tail and fins, though without mov- 
 ing his station. At the next instant the tall body 
 of Natty bent to the water’s edge, and the handle 
 of his spear disappeared in the lake. The long, 
 dark streak of the gliding weapon, and the little 
 bubbling vortex which followed its rapid flight, 
 were easily to be seen ; but it was not until the 
 handle shot again into the air by its own reaction, 
 and its master catching it in his hand, threw its 
 tines uppermost, that Elizabeth was acquainted 
 with the success of the blow. A fish of great 
 size was transfixed by the barbed steel, and was 
 very soon shaken from its impaled situation into 
 the bottom of the canoe. 
 
 “That will do, John,” said Natty, raising his 
 prize by one of his fingers, and exhibiting it be- 
 
 fore the torch ; “ I shall not strike another blow 
 to-night.” 
 
 The Indian again waved his hand, and replied 
 with the simple and energetic monosyllable of — 
 
 « Good.” 
 
 Elizabeth was awakened from the trance crea- 
 ted by this scene, and by gazing in that unusual 
 manner at the bottom of the lake, by the hoarse 
 sounds of Benjamin’s voice, and the dashing of 
 oars, as the heavier boat of the seine-drawers ap- 
 proached the spot where the canoe lay, dragging 
 after it the folds of the net. 
 
 “Haul off, haul off, Master Bumppo,” cried 
 Benjamin; “ your top-light frightens the fish, 
 who see the net and sheer off soundings. A fish 
 knows as much as a horse, or, for that matter, 
 more, seeing that it’s brought up on the water. 
 Haul off, Master Bumppo, haul off, I say, and giv-o 
 a wide berth to the seine.” 
 
 Mohegan guided their little canoe to a point 
 where the movements of the fishermen could be 
 observed, without interruption to the business, 
 and then suffered it to lie quietly on the water, 
 looking like an imaginary vessel floating in air. 
 There appeared to be much ill-humor among the 
 party in the batteau, for the directions of Benja- 
 min were not only frequent, but issued in a voice 
 that partook largely of dissatisfaction. 
 
 “ Pull larboard oar, will ye, Master Kirby ? ” 
 cried the old seaman; “pull larboard best. It 
 would puzzle the oldest admiral in the British 
 fleet to cast this here net fair, with a wake like a 
 corkscrew. Pull starboard, boy, pull starboard 
 oar, with a will.” 
 
 “ Harkee, Mister Pump,” said Kirby, ceasing 
 to row, and speaking with some spirit ; “ I’m a 
 man that likes civil language and decent treat- 
 ment, such as is right ’twixt man and man. If 
 you want us to go hoy, say so, and hoy I’ll go, 
 for the benefit of the company ; but I’m not used 
 to being ordered about like dumb cattle.” 
 
 “Who’s dumb cattle?” echoed Benjamin, 
 fiercely, turning his forbidding face to the glare 
 of light from the canoe, and exhibiting every 
 feature teeming with the expression of disgust. 
 “ If you want to come aft and cun the boat 
 round, come, and be damned, and pretty steerage 
 you’ll make of it. There’s but another heave of 
 the net in the stem-sheets, and we’re clear of the 
 thing. Give way, will ye ? and shoot her ahead 
 for a fathom or two, and if you catch me afloat 
 again with such a horse-marine as yourself, why, 
 rate me a ship’s jackass, that’s all.” 
 
 Probably encouraged by the prospect of a 
 speedy termination to his labor, the wood-choppet 
 resumed his oar, and, under strong excitement. 
 
THE STEWARD OVERBOARD. 
 
 119 
 
 gave a stroke, that not only cleared the boat of 
 the net but of the steward, at the same instant. 
 Benjamin had stood on the little platform that 
 held the seine, in the stern of the boat, and the 
 violent whirl occasioned by the vigor of the wood- 
 chopper’s arm completely destroyed his balance. 
 The position of the lights rendered objects in the 
 batteau distinguishable, both from the canoe and 
 the shore ; and the heavy fall on the water drew 
 all eyes to the steward, as he lay struggling, for a 
 moment, in sight. 
 
 A loud burst of merriment, to which the lungs 
 of Kirby contributed no small part, broke out 
 like a chorus of laughter, and rapg along the east- 
 ern mountain, in echoes, until it died away in dis- 
 tant, mocking mirth, among the rocks and woods. 
 The body of the steward was seen slowly to dis- 
 appear, as was expected ; but when the light 
 waves, which had been raided by his fall, began 
 to sink in calmness, and the water finally closed 
 over his head, unbroken and still, a very different 
 feeling pervaded the spectators. 
 
 “ How fare you, Benjamin ? ” shouted Richard 
 from the shore. 
 
 “ The dumb devil can’t swim a stroke ! ” ex- 
 claimed Kirby, rising, and beginning to throw 
 aside his clothes. 
 
 “ Paddle up, Mohegan, ” cried young Edwards, 
 “ the light will show us where he lies, and I will 
 dive for the body.” 
 
 “ Oh ! save him ! for God’s sake, save him ! ” 
 exclaimed Elizabeth, bowing her head on the side 
 of the canoe in horror. 
 
 A powerful and dexterous sweep of Mohe- 
 gan’s paddle sent the canoe directly over the spot 
 where the steward had fallen, and a loud shout 
 from the Leather-stocking announced that he saw 
 the body. 
 
 “ Steady the boat while I dive,” again cried 
 Edwards. 
 
 Gently y lad, gently,” said Natty ; “ I’ll spear 
 the creater up in half the time, and no risk to 
 anybody.” 
 
 The form of Benjamin was lying, about half 
 way to the bottom, grasping with both hands 
 some broken rushes. The blood of Elizabeth 
 curdled to her heart, as she saw the figure of a 
 fellow-creature thus . extended under an immense 
 sheet of water, apparently in motion, by the un- 
 dulations of the dying waves, with, its face and 
 hands, viewed by that light, and through the me- 
 dium of the fluid, already colored with hues like 
 death. 
 
 At the same instant, she saw the shining tines 
 of Natty’s spear approaching the head of the 
 sufferer, and entwining themselves, rapidly and 
 
 dexterously, in the hairs of his cue and the cape 
 of his coat. The body was now raised slowly, 
 looking ghastly and grim, as its features turned 
 upward to the light, and approached the surface. 
 The arrival of the nostrils of Benjamin into their 
 own atmosphere was announced by a breathing 
 that would have done credit to a porpoise. For 
 a moment, Natty held the steward suspended, 
 with his head just above the water, while his eyes 
 slowly opened, and stared about him, as if he 
 thought that he had reached a new and unexplored 
 country. 
 
 As all the parties acted and spoke together, 
 much less time was consumed in the occurrence 
 of these events, than in their narration. To bring 
 the batteau to the end of the spear, and to raise 
 the form of Benjamin into the boat, and for the 
 whole party to gain the shore, required but a 
 minute. Kirby, aided by Richard, whose anxiety 
 induced him to run into the water to meet his 
 favorite assistant, carried the motionless steward 
 up the bank, and seated him before the fire, while 
 the sheriff proceeded to order the most approved 
 measures then in use, for the resuscitation of the 
 drowned. 
 
 “ Run, Billy,” he cried, “ to the village, and 
 bring up the rum-hogshead that lies before the 
 door, in which I am making vinegar, and be 
 quick, boy, don’t stay to empty the vinegar, and 
 stop at Mr. Le Quoi’s, and buy a paper of to- 
 bacco and half-a-dozen pipes ; and ask Remark- 
 able for some salt, and one of her flannel petti- 
 coats ; and ask Dr. Todd to send his lancet, and 
 to come himself ; and — ha ! ’duke, what are you 
 about ? would you strangle a man who is full of 
 water, by giving him rum ! Help me to open his 
 hand, that I may pat it.” 
 
 All this time Benjamin sat, with his muscles 
 fixed, his mouth shut, and his hands clinching the 
 rushes, which he had seized in the confusion of 
 the moment, and which, as he held fast, like a 
 true seaman, had been the means of preventing 
 his body from rising again to the surface. His 
 eyes, however, were open, and stared wildly on the 
 group about the fire, while his lungs were playing 
 like a blacksmith’s bellows, as if to compensate 
 themselves for the minute of inaction to which 
 they had been subjected. As he kept his lips 
 compressed, with a most inveterate determination, 
 the air was compelled to pass through his nos- 
 trils, and he rather snorted than breathed, and in 
 such a manner, that nothing but the excessive 
 agitation of the sheriff could at all justify his pre- 
 cipitous orders. 
 
 The bottle, applied to the steward’s lips by 
 Marmaduke, acted like a charm. His mouth 
 
120 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 opened instinctively ; his hands dropped the rush- 
 es, and seized the glass ; his eyes raised from 
 their horizontal stare to the heavens ; and the 
 whole man was lost, for a moment, in a new sen- 
 sation. Unhappily for the propensity of the 
 steward, breath was as necessary after one of 
 there draughts as after his submersion, and the 
 time at length arrived when he was compelled to 
 let go the bottle. 
 
 “ Why, Benjamin ! ” roared the sheriff ; “ you 
 amaze me ! for a man of your experience in drown- 
 ings to act so foolishly ! just now, you were half 
 full of water, and now you are — ” 
 
 “ Full of grog,” interrupted the steward, his 
 features settling down, with amazing flexibility, 
 into their natural economy. “ But, d’ye see, squire, 
 I kept my hatches close and it is but little water that 
 ever gets into my scuttle-butt. Harkee, Master 
 Kirby ! I’ve followed the salt water for the better 
 part of a man’s life, and have seen some navigation 
 on the fresh ; but this here matter I will say in your 
 favor, and that is, that you’re the awk’ardest 
 green’un that ever straddled a boat’s thwart. Them 
 that likes you for a shipmate, may sail with you and 
 no thanks ; but dam’me if I even walk on the lake 
 shore in your company. For why ? you’d as lief 
 drown a man as one of them there fish ; not to 
 throw a Christian creature so much as a rope’s end 
 when he was adrift, and no life-buoy in sight ! — 
 Natty Bumppo, give us your fist. There’s them 
 that says you’re an Indian, and a scalper, but 
 you’ve served me a good turn, and you may set me 
 down for a friend; tho.’f it would have been more 
 shipshape to lower the bight of a rope, or running 
 bowline, below me, than to seize an old seaman 
 by his head-lanyard ; but I suppose you are used 
 to taking men by the hair, and, seeing you did me 
 good instead of harm thereby, why, it’s the same 
 thing, d’ye see.” 
 
 Marmaduke prevented any reply, and assum- 
 ing the direction of matters with a dignity and 
 discretion that at once silenced all opposition from 
 his cousin, Benjamin was dispatched to the vil- 
 lage by land, and the net was hauled to shore in 
 such a manner that the fish for once escaped its 
 meshes with impunity. 
 
 The division of the spoils was made in the 
 ordinary manner, by placing one of the party 
 with his back to the game, who named the owner 
 of each pile. Billy Kirby stretched his large 
 frame on the grass by the side of the fire, as sen- 
 tinel until morning, over net and fish ; and the re- 
 mainder of the party embarked in the batteau, to 
 return to the village. 
 
 The wood-chopper was seen broiling his sup- 
 per on the coals as they lost sight of the fire, 
 
 and, when the boat approached the shore, the 
 torch of Mohegan’s canoe was shining again 
 under the gloom of the eastern mountain. Its 
 motion ceased suddenly; a scattering of brands 
 was in the air, and then all remained dark as the 
 conjunction of night, forest, and mountain, could 
 render the scene. 
 
 The thoughts of Elizabeth wandered from the 
 youth, who was holding a canopy of shawls over 
 herself and Louisa, to the hunter and the Indian 
 warrior ; and she felt an awakening curiosity to 
 visit a hut where men of such different habits 
 and temperament were drawn together as bv 
 common impulse. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 “ Cease all this parlance about hills and dales: 
 
 None listen to thy scenes of boyish frolic, 
 
 Fond dotard 1 with such tickled ears as thou dost: 
 
 Come ! to thy tale.” 
 
 Dtro. 
 
 Mr. Jones arose on the following morning 
 with the sun, and, ordering his own and Marina, 
 duke’s steeds to be saddled, he proceeded, with 
 a countenance big with some business of unusual 
 moment, to the apartment of the Judge. The 
 door was unfastened, and Richard entered, with 
 the freedom that characterized not only the inter- 
 course between the cousins, but the ordinary 
 manners of the sheriff. 
 
 “Well, ’duke, to horse,” he cried, “and I 
 will explain to you my meaning in the allusions I 
 made last night. David says, in the Psalms — no, 
 it was Solomon, but it was all in the family— 
 Solomon said there was a time for all things ; and, 
 in my humble opinion, a fishing-party is not the 
 moment for discussing important subjects. Ha ! 
 why, what the devil ails you, Marmaduke ? an’t 
 you well? let me feel your pulse: my grand- 
 father, you know — ” 
 
 “ Quite well in the body, Richard,” interrupted 
 the Judge, repulsing his cousin, who was about to 
 assume the functions that properly belonged to 
 Dr. Todd; “but ill at heart. I received letters 
 by the post of last night, after we returned from 
 the point, and this among the number.” 
 
 The sheriff took the letter, but without turn- 
 ing his eyes on the writing, for he was examining 
 the appearance of the other with astonishment 
 From the face of his cousin the gaze of Richard 
 wandered to the table, which was covered with 
 letters, packets, and newspapers; then to the 
 
BAD NEWS. 
 
 m 
 
 apartment and all that it contained. On the bed 
 there was the impression that had been made by 
 a human form, but the coverings were unmoved, 
 and every thing indicated that the occupant of 
 the room had passed a sleepless night. The 
 candles had burned to the sockets, and had evi- 
 dently extinguished themselves in their own frag- 
 ments. Marmaduke had drawn his curtains, and 
 opened both the shutters and the sashes, to admit 
 the balmy air of a spring morning ; but his pale 
 cheek, his quivering lip, and his sunken eye, pre- 
 sented altogether so very different an appearance 
 from the usual calm, manly, and cheerful aspect of 
 the Judge, that the sheriff grew each moment 
 more and more bewildered with astonishment. 
 At length Richard found time to cast his eyes 
 on the direction of the letter, which he still 
 held unopened, crumpling it in his hand. 
 
 “ What ! a ship-letter ! ” he exclaimed ; “ and 
 from England ! ha ! ’duke, there must be news 
 of importance indeed I ” 
 
 “ Read it,” said Marmaduke, pacing the floor 
 in excessive agitation. 
 
 Richard, who commonly thought aloud, was 
 unable to read a letter without suffering part of 
 its contents to escape him in audible sounds. So 
 much of the epistle as was divulged in that man- 
 ner, we shall lay before the reader, accompanied 
 by the passing remarks of the sheriff : 
 
 “‘London, February 12th, 1793.? What a 
 devil of a passage she had ! but the wind has 
 been northwest for six weeks, until within the 
 last fortnight. 
 
 ‘“Sir, your favors of August 10th, September 
 23d, and of December 1st, were received in due sea- 
 son, -and the first answered by return of packet. 
 Since the receipt of the last, I ’ ” — here a long 
 passage Was rendered indistinct, by a kind of 
 humming noise made by the sheriff — “ ‘ I grieve 
 to say, that ’ — hum, hum, bad enough to be sure 
 — ‘ but trust that a merciful Providence has seen 
 fit ’ — hum, hum, hum ; seems to be a good pious 
 sort of a man, ’duke ; belongs to the established 
 church, I dare say; hum, hum — ‘vessel sailed 
 from Falmouth on or about the It t September of 
 last year, and’ — hum, hum, hum. ‘If any 
 thing should transpire on this afflicting subject 
 shall not fail ’ — hum, hum ; really a good-hearted 
 man, for a lawyer — ‘ but can communicate noth- 
 ing further at present’ — hum, hum. ‘The na- 
 tional convention ’ — hum, hum — ‘ unfortunate 
 Louis’ — hum, hum — ‘example of your Washing- 
 ton’ — a very sensible man, I declare, and none 
 of your crazy democrats. Hum, hum — ‘our 
 gallant navy’ — hum, hum — ‘ under our most ex- 
 cellent monarch ’ — ay, a good man enough, that 1 
 
 King George, but bad advisers; hum, hum — ‘I 
 beg to conclude with assurances of my perfect 
 respect ’ — hum, hum — ‘ Andrew Holt.’ — Andrew 
 Holt — a very sensible, feeling man, this Mr. 
 Andrew Holt — but the writer of evil tidings. 
 What will you do next, cousin Marmaduke ? ” 
 
 “ What can I do, Richard, but trust to time, 
 and the will of Heaven ? Here is another letter 
 from Connecticut, but it only repeats the sub- 
 stance of the last. There is but one consoling 
 reflection to be gathered from the English news, 
 which is, that my last letter was received by him 
 before the ship sailed.” 
 
 “This is bad enough, indeed! ’duke, bad 
 enough, indeed ! and away go all my plans, of 
 putting wings to the house, to the devil. I had 
 made arrangements for a ride to introduce you 
 to some thing of a very important nature. You 
 know how much you think of mines — ” 
 
 “Talk not of mines,” interrupted the Judge; 
 “ there is a sacred duty to be performed, and that 
 without delay. I must devote this day to writ- 
 ing ; and thou must be my assistant, Richard ; it 
 will not do to employ Oliver in a matter of such 
 secrecy and interest.” 
 
 “No, no, ’duke,” cried the sheriff, squeezing 
 his hand; “I am your man, just now: we are 
 sisters’ children, and blood, after all, is the best 
 cement to make friendship stick together. Well, 
 well, there is no hurry about the silver-mine, just 
 now ; another time will do as well. We shall 
 want Dirky Yan, I suppose? ” 
 
 Marmaduke assented to this indirect question, 
 and the sheriff relinquished all his intentions on 
 the subject of the ride, and, repairing to the 
 breakfast parlor, he dispatched a messenger to 
 require the immediate presence of Dirck Van der 
 School. 
 
 The village of Templeton at that time sup- 
 ported but two lawyers, one of whom was intro- 
 duced to our readers in the bar-room of the “ Bold 
 Dragoon,” and the other was the gentleman of 
 whom Richard spoke by the friendly y$t familiar 
 appellation of Dirck, or Dirky Yan. Great good- 
 nature, a very tolerable share of skill in his pro- 
 fession, and, considering the circumstances, no 
 contemptible degree of honesty, were the princi- 
 pal ingredients in the character of this man, who 
 was known to the settlers as Squire Yan der 
 School, and sometimes by the flattering though 
 anomalous title of the “ Dutch ” or “ honest law- 
 yer.” We would not wish to mislead our readers 
 in their conceptions of any of our characters, and 
 we therefore feel it necessary to add that the ad- 
 jective, in the preceding agnomen of Mr. Yan 
 der School, was used in direct reference to its sub. 
 
122 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 Btantive. Our orthodox friends need not be told, 
 that all the merit in this world is comparative ; 
 and, once for all, we desire to say that, where any 
 thing which involves qualities or character is as- 
 serted, we must be understood to mean, “ under 
 the circumstances.” 
 
 During the remainder of the day, the Judge 
 was closeted with his cousin and his lawyer ; and 
 no one else was admitted to his apartment, ex- 
 cepting his daughter. The deep distress that so 
 evidently affected Marmaduke, was in some meas- 
 ure communicated to Elizabeth also : for a look 
 of dejection shaded her intelligent features, and 
 the buoyancy of her animated spirits was sen- 
 sibly softened. Once on that day, young Ed- 
 wards, who was a wondering and observant spec- 
 tator of the sudden alteration produced in the 
 heads of the family, detected a tear stealing over 
 the cheek of Elizabeth, and suffusing her bright 
 eyes with a softness that did not always belong to 
 their expression. 
 
 “Have any evil tidings been received, Miss 
 Temple ? ” he inquired, with an interest and voice 
 that caused Louisa Grant to raise her head from 
 her needlework, with a quickness at which she in- 
 stantly blushed herself. “ I would offer my ser- 
 vices to your father, if, as I suspect, he needs an 
 agent in some distant place, and I thought it 
 would give you relief.” 
 
 “We have certainly heard bad news,” re- 
 turned Elizabeth, “ and it may be necessary that 
 my father should leave home for a short period ; 
 unless I can persuade him to trust my cousin 
 Richard with the business, whose absence from 
 the country, just at this time, too, might be inex- 
 pedient.” 
 
 The youth paused a moment, and the blood 
 gathered slowly to his temples as he continued : 
 
 “If it be of a nature that I could execute—” 
 
 “ It is such as can only be confided to one we 
 know— one of ourselves.” 
 
 “ Surely, you know me, Miss Temple ! ” he 
 added, with a warmth that he seldom exhibited, 
 but which did sometimes escape him in the mo- 
 ments of their frank communications. “Have 
 I lived five months under your roof to be a stran- 
 ger?” 
 
 Elizabeth was engaged with her needle also, 
 and she bent her head to one side, affecting to ar- 
 range her muslin ; but her hand shook, her color 
 heightened, and her eyes lost their moisture in an 
 expression of ungovernable interest, as she said : 
 
 “ How much do we know of you, Mr. Ed- 
 wards ? ” 
 
 “ How much ! ” echoed the youth, gazing from 
 the speaker to the mild countenance of Louisa, 
 
 that was also illuminated with curiosity; “how 
 much ! have I been so long an im-te with you 
 and not known ? ” 
 
 The head of Elizabeth turned slowly from its 
 affected position, and the look of confusion that 
 had blended so strongly with an expression of in- 
 terest changed to a smile. 
 
 “ We know you, sir, indeed : you are called 
 Mr. Oliver Edwards. I understand that you have 
 informed my friend Miss Grant that you are a na- 
 tive — ” 
 
 “ Elizabeth ! ” exclaimed Louisa, blushing to 
 the eyes, and trembling like an aspen ; “ you misun- 
 derstood me, dear Miss Temple ; I — I — it was only 
 a conjecture. Besides, if Mr. Edwards is related to 
 the natives, why should we reproach him ? In what 
 are we better ? at least I, who am the child of a 
 poor and unsettled clergyman ? ” 
 
 Elizabeth shook her head doubtingly, and even 
 laughed, but made no reply ; until, observing the 
 melancholy which pervaded the countenance of 
 her companion, who was thinking of the poverty 
 and labors of her father, she continued : 
 
 “ Nay, Louisa, humility carries you too far. 
 The daughter of a minister of the church can have 
 no superiors. Neither I nor Mr. Edwards is quite 
 your equal, unless,” she added, again smiling, “ he 
 is in secret a king.” 
 
 “ A faithful servant of the King of kings, Miss 
 Temple, is inferior to none on earth,” said Louisa ; 
 “ but his honors are his own ; I am only the child 
 of a poor and friendless man, and can claim no 
 other distinction. Why, then, should I feel my- 
 self elevated above Mr. Edwards, because — be- 
 cause — perhaps he is only very, very distantly re- 
 lated to John Mohegan ? ” 
 
 Glances of a very comprehensive meaning were 
 exchanged between the heiress and the young 
 man, as Louisa betrayed, while vindicating his 
 lineage, the reluctance with which she admitted 
 his alliance with the old warrior ; but not even a 
 smile at the simplicity of their companion was 
 indulged by either. 
 
 « On reflection, I must acknowledge that my 
 situation here is somewhat equivocal,” said Ed- 
 wards, “ though I may be said to have purchased 
 it with my blood.” 
 
 “ The blood, too, of one of the native lords 
 of the soil ! ” cried Elizabeth, who evidently put 
 little faith in his aboriginal descent. 
 
 “Do I bear the marks of my lineage so very 
 plainly impressed on my appearance ? Iam dark, 
 but not very red — not more so than common ? ” 
 
 “ Rather more so, just now.” 
 
 “I am sure, Miss Temple,” cried Louisa, 
 “ you cannot have taken much notice of Mr. Ed- 
 
LAWYER VAN DER SCHOOL. 
 
 wards. His eyes are not so black as Mohegan’s, 
 ©r oven your own, nor is his hair I ” 
 
 “ Very possibly, then, I can lay claim to the 
 aame descent. It would be a great relief to my 
 mind to think so, for I own that I grieve when I 
 see old Mohegan walking about these lands, like 
 the ghost of one of their ancient possessors, and 
 feel how small is my own right to possess them.” 
 
 Do you ? ” cried the youth, with a vehe- 
 mence that startled the ladies. 
 
 “ I do, indeed,” returned Elizabeth, after suf- 
 fering a moment to pass in surprise ; “ but what 
 can I do ? what can my father do ? Should we 
 offer the old man a home and a maintenance, his 
 habits would compel him to refuse us. Neither, 
 were we so silly as to wish such a thing, could 
 we convert these clearings and farms again into 
 hunting-grounds, as the Leather-stocking would 
 wish to see them.” 
 
 “You speak the truth, Miss Temple,” said 
 Edwards. “ What can you do, indeed ? But 
 there is one thing that I am certain you can and 
 will do, when you become the mistress of these 
 beautiful valleys — use your wealth with indulgence 
 to the poor and charity to the needy ; indeed, 
 you can do no more.” 
 
 “ And that will be doing a good deal,” said 
 Louisa, smiling in her turn. “But there will, 
 doubtless, be one to take the direction of such 
 things from her hands.” 
 
 “ I am not about to disclaim matrimony, like 
 a silly girl, who dreams of nothing else from morn- 
 ing till night ; but I am a nun here, without the 
 vow of celibacy. Where shall I find a husband 
 in these forests ? ” 
 
 “ There is none, Miss Temple,” said Edwards, 
 quickly ; “ there is none who has a right to aspire 
 to you, and I know that you will wait to be sought 
 by your equal ; or die, as you live, loved, re- 
 spected, and admired by all who know you.” 
 
 The young man seemed to think that he had 
 said all that was required by gallantry, for he 
 arose, and, taking his hat, hurried from the apart- 
 ment. Perhaps Louisa thought that he had said 
 more than was necessary, for she sighed, with an 
 aspiration so low that it was scarcely audible to 
 herself, and bent her head over her work again. 
 And it is possible that Miss Temple wished to 
 hear more, for her eyes continued fixed for a 
 minute on the door through which the young man 
 had passed, then glanced quickly toward her 
 companion, when the long silence that succeeded 
 manifested how much zest may be given to the 
 conversation of two maidens under eighteen, by 
 the presence of a youth of three-and-twenty. 
 
 The first person encountered by Mr. Edwards, 
 
 123 
 
 as he rather rushed than walked from the house, 
 was the little square-built lawyer, with a large 
 bundle of papers under his arm, a pair of green 
 spectacles on his nose, with glasses at the sides, as 
 if to multiply his power of detecting frauds, by 
 additional organs of vision. 
 
 Mr. Van der School was a well-educated man, 
 but of slow comprehension, who had imbibed a 
 wariness in his speeches and actions, from having 
 suffered by his collisions with his more mercurial 
 and apt brethren who had laid the foundations of 
 their practice in the Eastern courts, and who had 
 sucked in shrewdness with their mother’s milk. 
 The caution of this gentleman was exhibited in 
 his actions, by the utmost method and punctuality, 
 tinctured with a good deal of timidity ; and in his 
 speeches, by a parenthetical style, that frequently 
 left to his auditors a long search after his mean- 
 ing. 
 
 “ A good-morning to you, Mr. Van der School,” 
 said Edwards ; “ it seems to be a busy day with 
 us at the mansion-house.” 
 
 “ Good-morning, Mr. Edwards (if that is your 
 name (for, being a stranger, we have no other evi- 
 dence of the fact than your own testimony), as I 
 understand you have given it to Judge Temple), 
 good-morning, sir. It is, apparently, a busy day 
 (but a man of your discretion need not be told 
 (having, doubtless, discovered it of your own ac- 
 cord), that appearances are often deceitful) up 
 at the mansion-house.” 
 
 “ Have you papers of consequence that will 
 require copying? can I be of assistance in any 
 way ? ” 
 
 “ There are papers (as doubtless you see (for 
 your eyes are young) by the outsides) that re- 
 quire copying.” 
 
 “ Well, then, I will accompany you to your 
 office, and receive such as are most needed, and 
 by night I shall have them done, if there be 
 much haste.” 
 
 “ I shall be always glad to see you, sir, at my 
 office (as in duty bound (not that it is obligatory 
 to receive any man within your dwelling (unless 
 so inclined), which is a castle), according to the 
 forms of politeness), or at any other place; 
 but the papers are most strictly confidential (and 
 as such, cannot be read by any one), unless so 
 directed (by Judge Temple’s solemn injunctions), 
 and are invisible to all eyes; excepting those 
 whose duties (I mean assumed duties) require it 
 of them.” 
 
 “ Well, sir, as I perceive that I can be of no 
 service, I wish you another good-morning; but 
 beg you will remember that I am quite idle just 
 now, and I wish you would intimate as much to 
 
124 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 Judge Temple, and make him a tender of my ser- 
 vices in any part of the world, unless — unless — 
 it be far from Templeton.” 
 
 “ I will make the communication, sir, in your 
 name (with your own qualifications), as your 
 agent. Good-morning, sir. — But stay proceed- 
 ings, Mr. Edwards (so called), for a moment. Do 
 you wish me to state the offer of travelling as a 
 final contract (for which consideration has been 
 received at former dates (by sums advanced), 
 which would be binding), or as a tender of ser- 
 vices for which compensation is to be paid (accord- 
 ing to future agreement between the parties), on 
 performance of the conditions ? ” 
 
 “ Any way, any way,” said Edwards, “ he seems 
 in distress and I would assist him.” 
 
 “ The motive is good, sir (according to ap- 
 pearances (which are often deceitful) on first im- 
 pressions), and does you honor. I will mention 
 your wish, young gentleman (as you now seem), 
 and will not fail to communicate the answer by 
 five o’clock p.m. of this present day (God willing), 
 if you give me an opportunity so to do.” 
 
 The ambiguous nature Of the situation and 
 character ot Mr. Edwards had rendered him an 
 object of peculiar suspicion to the lawyer, and 
 the youth was consequently too much accustomed 
 to similar equivocal and guarded speeches to feel 
 any unusual disgust at the present dialogue. He 
 saw at once that it was the intention of the prac- 
 titioner to conceal the nature of his business, even 
 from the private secretary of Judge Temple ; and 
 he knew too well the difficulty of comprehending 
 the meaning of Mr. Yan der School, when the 
 gentleman most wished to be luminous in his dis- 
 course, not to abandon all thoughts of a discovery, 
 when he perceived that the attorney was en- 
 deavoring to avoid anything like an approach to 
 a cross-examination. They parted at the gate, the 
 lawyer walking, with an important and hurried 
 air toward his office, keeping his right hand firm- 
 ly clinched on the bundle of papers. 
 
 It must have been obvious to all our readers, 
 that the youth entertained an unusual and deeply- 
 seated prejudice against the character of the 
 Judge ; but, owing to some counteracting cause, 
 his sensations were now those of powerful interest 
 in the state of his patron’s present feelings, and 
 in the cause of his secret uneasiness. 
 
 He remained gazing after the lawyer, until the 
 door closed on both the bearer and the mysteri- 
 ous packet, when he returned slowly to the dwell- 
 ing, and endeavored to forget his curios’rty in the 
 usual avocations of his office. 
 
 When the Judge made his reappearance in 
 the circles of his family, his cheerfulness was tem- 
 
 pered by a shade of melancholy that lingered for 
 many days around his manly brow ; but the mag- 
 ical progression of the season aroused him from 
 his temporary apathy, and his smiles returned 
 with the summer. 
 
 The heats of the days, and the frequent occur- 
 rence of balmy showers, had completed, in an in- 
 credibly short period, the growth of plants, which 
 the lingering spring had so long retarded in the 
 germ ; and the woods presented every shade of 
 green that the American forests know. The stumps 
 in the cleared fields were already hidden beneath 
 the wheat that was waving with every breath of 
 the summer air, shining, and changing its hues 
 like velvet. 
 
 During the continuance of his cousin’s dejec- 
 tion, Mr. Jones forbore, with much consideration, 
 to press on his attention a business that each hour 
 was drawing nearer to the heart of the sheriff, 
 and which, if any opinion could be formed by his 
 frequent private conferences With the man who 
 was introduced in these pages by the name of 
 Jotham, at the bar-room of the Bold Dragoon, 
 was becoming also of great importance. 
 
 At length the sheriff ventured to allude again 
 to the subject ; and one evening, in the beginning 
 of July, Marmaduke made him a promise of de- 
 voting the following day to the desired excur- 
 sion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 “ Speak on, my clearest father I 
 Thy words are like the breezes of the west.” 
 
 MimJAJff. 
 
 It was a mild and soft morning, when Marma- 
 duke and Richard mounted their horses and pro- 
 ceeded on the expedition that had so long been 
 uppermost in the thoughts of the latter; and 
 Elizabeth and Louisa appeared at the same instant 
 in the hall, attired for an excursion on foot. 
 
 The head of Miss Grant was covered by a neat 
 little hat of green silk, and her modest eyes peered 
 from under its shade, with the soft languor that 
 characterized her whole appearance; but Miss 
 Temple trod her father’s wide apartments with 
 the step of their mistress, holding in her hands, 
 dangling by one of its ribbons, the gipsy that was 
 to conceal the glossy locks that curled around her 
 polished forehead in rich profusion. 
 
 “ What ! are you for a walk, Bess ? ” cried 
 the Judge, suspending liis movements for a mo- 
 ment, to smile, with a father’s fondness, at the 
 display of womanly grace and beauty that his 
 child presented. “ Remember the heats of July 
 
OLIVER’S SERVICES DECLINED. 
 
 125 
 
 my daughter; Dor venture further than thou 
 canst retrace before the meridian. Where is thy 
 parasol, girl ? thou wilt lose the polish of that 
 brow, under this sun and southern breeze, unless 
 thou guard it with unusual care.” 
 
 “ I shall then do more honor to my connec- 
 tions,” returned the smiling daughter. “ Cousin 
 Richard has a bloom that any lady might envy. 
 At present the resemblance between us is so tri- 
 fling, that no stranger would know us to be ‘ sis- 
 ters ’ children.’ ” 
 
 “ Grandchildren, you mean, Cousin Bess,” said 
 the sheriff. “ But on, Judge Temple ; time and tide' 
 wait for no man ; and if you take my‘ counsel, sir, 
 in twelve months from this day you may make an 
 umbrella for your daughter of her camel’s hair 
 shawl, and have its frame of solid silver. I ask 
 nothing for myself, ’duke ; you have been a good 
 friend to me already ; besides, all that I have will 
 go to Bess there, one of these melancholy days, 
 so it’s as long as it’s short, whether I or you leave 
 it. But we have a day’s ride before us, sir ; so 
 move forward, or dismount, and say you won’t go 
 at once.” 
 
 “Patience, patience, Dickon,” returned the 
 Judge, checking his horse, and turning again to 
 his daughter. “ If thou art for the mountains, 
 love, stray not too deep into the forest, I entreat 
 thee ; for, though it is done often with impunity, 
 there is sometimes danger.” 
 
 “ Not at this season, I believe, sir,” said Eliza- 
 beth ; “ for, I will confess, it is the intention of 
 Lousia and myself to stroll among the hills.” 
 
 “ Less at this season than in the winter, dear ; 
 but still there may be danger in venturing too 
 far. But though thou art resolute, Elizabeth, 
 thou art too much like thy mother not to be pru- 
 dent.” 
 
 The eyes of the parent turned reluctantly 
 from his child, and the Judge and sheriff rode 
 slowly through the gateway, and disappeared 
 among the buildings of the village. 
 
 During this short dialogue, young Edwards 
 stood, an attentive listener, holding in his hand a 
 fishing-rod, the day and the season having tempt- 
 ed him also to desert the house for the pleasure 
 of exercise in the air. As the equestrians turned 
 through the gate, he approached the young fe- 
 males, who were already moving toward the street, 
 and was about to address them, as Louisa paused, 
 and said, quickly : 
 
 “ Mr. Edwards would speak to us, Elizabeth.” 
 
 The other stopped also, and turned to the 
 youth, politely, but with a slight coldness in her 
 air, that sensibly checked the freed om with which 
 he had approached them. 
 
 “ Your father is not pleased that you should 
 walk unattended in the hills, Miss Temple. If I 
 might offer myself as a protector — ” 
 
 “ Does my father select Mr. Oliver Edwards as 
 the organ of his displeasure ? ” interrupted the lady. 
 
 “ Good Heaven ! you misunderstood my mean- 
 ing : I should have said uneasy for not pleased. 
 I am his servant, madam, and in consequence 
 yours. I repeat that, with your consent, I will 
 change my rod for a fowling-piece, and keep nigh 
 you on the mountain.” 
 
 “ I thank you, Mr. Edwards ; but where there 
 is no danger, no protection is required. We are 
 not yet reduced to wandering among these free 
 hills accompanied by a body-guard. If such a 
 one is necessary, there he is, however. — Here, 
 Brave — Brave — my noble Brave ! ” 
 
 The huge mastiff, that has been already men- 
 tioned, appeared from his kennel, gaping and 
 stretching himself, with pampered laziness ; but 
 as his mistress again called — “ Come, dear Brave ; 
 once you have served your master well ; let us 
 see how you can do your duty by his daughter ” 
 — the dog wagged his tail, as if he understood her 
 language, walked with a stately gait to her side, 
 where he seated himself, and looked up at her 
 face, with an intelligence but little inferior to that 
 which beamed in her own lovely countenance. 
 
 She resumed her walk, but again paused, aftei 
 a few steps, and added, in tones of conciliation : 
 
 “You can be serving us equally, and, I pre. 
 sume, more agreeably to yourself, Mr Edwards, 
 by bringing us a string of your favorite perch foi 
 the dinner-table.” 
 
 When they again began to walk Miss Temple 
 did not look back to see how the youth bore this 
 repulse ; but the head of Louisa was turned sev- 
 eral times before they reached the gate on that 
 considerate errand. 
 
 “ I am afraid, Elizabeth,” she said, “ that we 
 have mortified Oliver. He is still standing where 
 we left him, leaning on his rod. Perhaps he 
 thinks us proud.” 
 
 “ He thinks justly,” exclaimed Miss Temple, 
 as if awaking from a deep musing ; “ he thinks 
 justly, then. We are too proud to admit of such 
 particular attentions from a young man in an 
 equivocal situation. What ! make him the com- 
 panion of our most private walks ! It is pride, 
 Louisa, but it is the pride of a woman.” 
 
 It was several minutes before Oliver aroused 
 himself from the abstracted position in which he 
 was standing when Louisa last saw him ; but 
 when he did, he muttered something rapidly and 
 incoherently, and, throwing his rod over his shoul- 
 der, he strode down the walk, through the gate, 
 
126 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 and along one of the streets of the village, until 
 he reached the lake-shore, with the air of an em- 
 peror. At this spot boats were kept for the use 
 of Judge Temple and his family. The young man 
 threw himself into a light skiff, and, seizing the 
 oars, he sent it across the lake toward the hut of 
 Leather-stocking, with a pair of vigorous arms. 
 By the time he had rowed a quarter of a mile, his 
 reflections were less bitter : and when he saw the 
 bushes that lined the shore in front of Natty’s 
 habitation gliding by him, as if they possessed the 
 motion which proceeded from his own efforts', he 
 was quite cooled in mind, though somewhat heated 
 in body. It is quite possible, that the very same 
 reason which guided the conduct of Miss Tem- 
 ple, suggested itself to a man of the breeding and 
 education of the youth ; and it is very certain 
 that, if such were the case, Elizabeth rose instead 
 of falling in the estimation of Mr. Edwards. 
 
 The oars were now raised from the water, and 
 the boat shot close in to the land, where it lay 
 gently agitated by waves of its own creating, 
 while the young man, first casting a cautious and 
 searching glance around him in every direction, 
 put a small whistle to his mouth, and blew a long, 
 shrill note, that rang among the echoing rocks 
 behind the hut. At this alarm, the hounds of 
 Natty rushed out of their bark kennel, and com- 
 menced their long piteous howls, leaping about 
 as if half frantic, though restrained by the leashes 
 of buckskin by which they were fastened. 
 
 “Quiet, Hector, quiet,” said Oliver, again ap- 
 plying his whistle to his mouth, and drawing out 
 notes still more shrill than before. No reply was 
 made, the dogs having returned to their kennel 
 at the sounds of his voice. 
 
 Edwards pulled the bows of the boat on the 
 shore, and, landing, ascended the beach and ap- 
 proached the door of the cabin. The fastenings 
 were soon undone, and he entered, closing the door 
 after him, when all was as silent, in that retired 
 spot, as if the foot of man had never trod the 
 wilderness. The sounds of the hammers, that were 
 in incessant motion in the village, were faintly 
 heard across the water ; but the dogs had crouched 
 into their lairs, satisfied that none but the priv- 
 ileged had approached the forbidden ground. 
 
 A quarter of an hour elapsed before the youth 
 reappeared, when he fastened the door again, and 
 spoke kindly to the hounds. The dogs came out 
 at the well-known tones, apd the slut jumped, up- 
 on his person, whining and barking, as if entreat- 
 ing Oliver to release her from prison. But old 
 Hector raised his nose to the light current of air, 
 and opened a long howl, that might have been 
 heard for a mile. 
 
 ■** Ha ! what do you scent, old veteran of the 
 woods ? ” cried Edwards. “ If a beast, it is a bold 
 one ; and if a man, an impudent.” 
 
 He sprang through the top of a pine that had 
 fallen near the side of the hut, and ascended a 
 small hillock that sheltered the cabin to the south, 
 where he caught a glimpse of the formal figure of 
 Hiram Doolittle, as it vanished, with unusual ra- 
 pidity for the architect, amid the bushes. 
 
 ‘SWhat can that fellow be wanting here?” 
 muttered Oliver. “He has no business in this 
 quarter, unless it be curiosity, which is an en- 
 demic in these woods. But against that I will 
 effectually guard, though the dogs should take a 
 liking to his ugly visage, and let him pass.” The 
 youth returned to the door, while giving vent to 
 this soliloquy, and completed the fastenings, by 
 placing a small chain through a staple, and secur- 
 ing it there by a padlock. “ He is a pettifogger, 
 and surely must know that there is such a thing 
 as feloniously breaking into a man’s house.” 
 
 Apparently well satisfied with this arrange- 
 ment, the youth again spoke to the hounds ; and, 
 descending to the shore, he launched his boat, 
 and, taking up his oars, pulled off into the lake. 
 
 There were several places in the Otsego that 
 were celebrated fishing-ground for perch. One 
 was nearly opposite to the cabin, and another, 
 still more famous, was near a point, at the dis- 
 tance of a mile and a half above it, under the brow 
 of the mountain, and on the same side of the lake 
 with the hut. Oliver Edwards pulled his little 
 skiff to the first, and sat, for a minute, undecided 
 whether to continue there, with his eyes on the 
 door of the cabin, or to change his ground, with 
 a view to get superior game. While gazing about 
 him, he saw the light-colored bark canoe of his old 
 companions riding on the water, at the point we 
 have mentioned, and containing two figures, that 
 he at once knew to be Mohegan and the Leather- 
 stocking. This decided the matter, and the youth 
 pulled, in a very few minutes, to the place where 
 his friends were fishing, and fastened his boat to 
 the light vessel of the Indian. 
 
 The old men received Oliver with welcoming 
 nods, but neither drew his line • from the water, 
 nor in the least varied his occupation. When 
 Edwards had secured his own boat, he baited 
 his hook and threw it into the lake, without 
 speaking. 
 
 “ Did you stop at the wigwam, lad, as you 
 rowed past ? ” asked Natty. 
 
 “Yes, and I found all safe; but that carpenter 
 and justice of the peace, Mr., or as they call him, 
 Squire, Doolittle, was prowling through the 
 woods. I made sure of the door before I left the 
 
THE CATSKILLS. 
 
 127 
 
 hut, and I think he is too great a coward to ap- 
 proach the hounds.” 
 
 “ There’s little to be said in favor of that man,” 
 said Natty, while he drew in a perch and baited 
 his hook. “ He craves dreadfully to come into 
 the cabin, and has as good as asked me as much 
 to my face ; but I put him off with unsartain 
 auswers, so that he is no wiser than Solomon. This 
 comes of having so many laws that such a man 
 may be called on to intarpret them,” 
 
 . “ I fear he is more knave than fool,” cried 
 Edwards ; “ he makes a tool of that simple man, 
 the sheriff ; and I dread that his impertinent cu- 
 riosity may yet give us much trouble.” 
 
 “ If he harbors too much about the cabin, 
 lad, I’ll shoot the creater,” said the Leather- 
 stocking, quite simply. 
 
 “No, no, Natty, you must remember the law,” 
 said Edwards, “ or we shall have you in trouble ; 
 and that, old man, would be an evil day, and sore 
 tidings to us all.” 
 
 “Would it, boy!” exclaimed the hunter, 
 raising his eyes, with a look of friendly interest, 
 toward the youth. “ You have the true blood in 
 your veins, Hr. Oliver ; and I’ll support it to the 
 face of Judge Temple, or in any court in the 
 country. How is it, John ? Do I speak the true 
 word? Is the lad stanch, and of the right 
 blood ? ” 
 
 “ He is a Delaware,” said Mohegan, “ and my 
 brother. The young Eagle is brave, and he will 
 be a chief. No harm can come.” 
 
 “Well, well,” cried the youth, impatiently, 
 u say no more about it, my good friends ; if I am 
 not all that your partiality would make me, I am 
 yours through life, in prosperity as in poverty. 
 We will talk of other matters.” 
 
 The old hunters yielded to his wish, which 
 seemed to be their law. For a short time a pro- 
 found silence prevailed, during which each man 
 was very busy with his hook and line ; but Ed- 
 wards, probably feeling that it remained with him 
 to renew the discourse, soon observed, with the 
 air of one who knew not what he said : 
 
 “ How beautifully tranquil and glassy the lake 
 is ! Saw you it ever more calm and even than at 
 this moment, Natty ? ” 
 
 “I have known the Otsego water for five and 
 forty years,” said Leather-stocking ; “ and I will 
 say that for it, which is, that a cleaner spring or 
 better fishing is not to be found in the land. 
 Yes, yes; I had the place to myself once, and a 
 cheerful time I had of it. The game was plenty 
 as heart could wish ; and there was none to med- 
 dle with the ground, unless there might have been 
 a hunting party of the Delawares crossing the 
 
 hills, or, maybe, a rifling scout of them thieves, 
 the Iroquois. There was one or two Frenchmen 
 that squatted in the flats, further west, and mar- 
 ried squaws; and some of the Scotch-Irishers, 
 from the Cherry-Valley, would come on to the 
 lake, and borrow my canoe to take a mess of 
 parch, or drop a line for salmon-trout ; but, in 
 the main, it was a cheerful place, and I had but 
 little to disturb me in it. John would come, and 
 John knows.” 
 
 Mohegan turned his dark face at this appeal ; 
 and, moving his hand forward with a graceful mo- 
 tion of assent, he spoke, using the Delaware lan- 
 guage : 
 
 “ The land was owned by my people ; we gave 
 it to my brother, in council — to the Fire-eater ; 
 and what the Delawares give lasts as long as the 
 waters run. Hawk-eye smoked at that council, 
 for we loved him.” 
 
 “No, no, John,” said Natty ; “ I was no chief, 
 seeing that I know’d nothing of scholarship, and 
 had a white skin. But it was a comfortable 
 hunting-ground then, lad, and w r ould have been 
 so to this day, but for the money of Marmaduke 
 Temple, and the twisty ways of the law.” 
 
 “It must have been a sight of melancholy 
 pleasure indeed,” said Edwards, while his eye 
 roved along the shores and over the hills, where 
 the clearings, groaning with the golden corn, were 
 cheering the forests with the signs of life, “ to 
 have roamed over these mountains, and along 
 this sheet of beautiful water, without a living 
 soul to speak to, or to thwart your humor.” 
 
 “ Haven’t I said it was cheerful ? ” said Leath- 
 er-stocking. “Yes, yes; when the trees began 
 to be covered with leaves, and the ice was out of 
 the lake, it was a second paradise. I have trav- 
 elled the woods for fifty-three years, and have 
 made them my home for more than forty ; and I 
 can say that I have met but one place that was 
 more to my liking ; and that was only to eye- 
 sight, and not for hunting or fishing.” 
 
 “ And where was that ? ” asked Edwards. 
 
 “Where! why up on the Catskills. I used 
 often to go up into the mountains after wolves’ 
 skins and bears ; once they paid me to get them 
 a stuffed painter, and so I often went. There’s a 
 place in them hills that I used to climb to when 
 I wanted to see the carryings on of the world, 
 that would well pay any man for a barked shin 
 or a torn moccasin. You know the Catskills, 
 lad ; for you must have seen them on your left, 
 as you followed the river up from York, looking 
 as blue as a piece of clear sky, and holding th6 
 clouds on their tops, as the smoke curls over th< 
 head of an Indian chief at the council fire. RTell 
 
128 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 there’s the High-peak and the Round-top, which 
 lay back like a father and mother among their 
 children, seeing they are far above all the other 
 hills. But the place I mean is next to the river, 
 where one of the ridges juts out a little from the 
 rest, and Where the rocks fall, for the best part 
 of a thousand feet, so much up and down, that a 
 man standing on their edges is fool enough to 
 think he can jump from top to bottom.” 
 
 “ What see you when you get there ? ” asked 
 Edwards. 
 
 “ Creation,” said Natty, dropping the end of 
 his rod into the water, and sweeping one hand 
 around him in a circle : “all creation, lad. I was 
 on that hill when Yaughan burned ’Sopus in the 
 last war ; and I saw the vessels come out of the 
 Highlands as plain as I can see that lime-scow 
 rowing into the Susquehanna, though one was 
 twenty times farther from me than the other. 
 The river was in sight for seventy miles, looking 
 like a curled shaving under my feet, though it 
 was eight long miles to its banks. I saw the 
 hills in the Hampshire grants, the highlands of 
 the river, and all that God had done, or man 
 could do, far as eye could reach — you know that 
 the Indians named me for my sight, lad; and 
 from the flat on the top of that mountains, I have 
 often found the place where Albany stands. And 
 as for ’Sopus, the day the royal troops burnt the 
 town, the smoke seemed so nigh, that I thought 
 I could hear the screeches of the women.” 
 
 “ It must have been worth the toil to meet 
 with such a glorious view.” 
 
 « If being the best part of a mile in the air, 
 and having men’s farms and housen at your feet, 
 with rivers looking like ribbons, and mountains 
 bigger than the * ‘ Vision,’ seeming to be hay- 
 stacks of green grass under you, gives any satis- 
 faction to a roan, I can recommend the spot. 
 When I first came into the woods to live, I used 
 to have weak spells when I felt lonesome ; and 
 then I would go into the Catskills, and spend a 
 few days on that hill to look at the ways of man ; 
 but it’s now many a year since I felt any such 
 longings, and I am getting too old for fugged 
 rocks. But there’s a place, a short two miles 
 back of that very hill, that in late times I relished 
 better than the mountain; for it was more cov- 
 ered with the trees, and nateral.” 
 
 “ And where was that ? ” inquired Edwards, 
 whose curiosity was strongly excited by the sim- 
 ple description of the hunter. 
 
 « Why, there’s a fall in the hills where the 
 water of two little ponds, that lie near each other, 
 breaks out of their bounds and runs over the 
 rocks into the valley. The stream is, maybe, 
 
 such a one as would turn a mill, if so useless a 
 thing was wanted in the wilderness. But the 
 hand that made that ‘ Leap ’ never made a mill. 
 There the water comes crooking and winding 
 among the rocks ; first so slow that a trout could 
 swim in it, and then starting and running like a 
 crater that wanted to make a far spring, till it 
 gets to where the mountain divides, like the cleft 
 hoof of a deer, leaving a deep hollow for the brook 
 to tumble into. The first pitch is nigh two hun- 
 dred feet, and the water looks like flakes of driven 
 snow afore it touches the bottom ; and there the 
 stream gathers itself together again for a new 
 start, and maybe flutters over fifty feet of flat 
 rock before it falls for another hundred, when it 
 jumps about from shelf to shelf, first turning this- 
 away and then turning that-away, striving to get 
 out of the hollow, till it finally comes to the 
 plain.” 
 
 “ I have never heard of this spot before ; it is 
 not mentioned in the books.” 
 
 “ I never read a book in my life,” said Lea- 
 ther-stocking ; “ and how should a man who has 
 lived in towns and schools know any thing about 
 the wonders of the woods ? No, no, lad ; there 
 has that little stream of water been playing 
 among the hills since He made the world, and 
 not a dozen white men have ever laid eyes on it. 
 The rock sweeps like mason-work, in a half- 
 round, on both sides of the fall, and shelves over 
 the bottom for fifty feet ; so that when I’ve been 
 sitting at the foot of the first pitch, and my 
 hounds have run into the caverns behind the 
 sheet of water, they’ve looked no bigger than so 
 many rabbits. To my judgment, lad, it’s the best 
 piece of work that I’ve met with in the woods ; 
 and none know how often the hand of God is 
 seen in the wilderness, but them that rove it for 
 a man’s life.” 
 
 “ What becomes of the water ? In which di- 
 rection does it run ? Is it a tributary of the Del- 
 aware ? ” 
 
 “ Anan ! ” said Natty. 
 
 “ Does the water run into the Delaware ? ” 
 
 “ No, no ; it’s a drop for the old Hudson, and 
 a merry time it has till it gets down off the moun- 
 tain. I’ve sat on the shelving rock many a long 
 hour, boy, and watched the bubbles as they shot 
 by me, and thought how long it would be before 
 that very water, which seemed made for the wil- 
 derness, would be under the bottom of a vessel, 
 and tossing in the salt sea. It is a spot to mako 
 a man solemnize. You go right down into the 
 valley that lies to the east of the High Peak, 
 where, in the fall of the year, thousands of acres 
 of woods are before your eyes, in the deep hollow, 
 
A DEER CHASE. 
 
 129 
 
 end along the side of the mountain, painted like 
 ten thousand rainbows, by no hand of man, 
 though without the ordering of God’s providence.” 
 
 “You are eloquent, Leather-stocking,” ex- 
 claimed the youth. 
 
 “ Anan ! ” repeated Natty. 
 
 “The recollection of the sight has warmed 
 your blood, old man. How many years is it since 
 you saw the place ? ” 
 
 The hunter made no reply ; but, bending his 
 ear near the water, he sat holding his breath, and 
 listening attentively as if to some distant sound. 
 At length he raised his head, and said : 
 
 “If I hadn’t fastened the hounds with my 
 own hands, with a fresh leash of green buckskin, 
 I’d take a Bible oath that I heard old Hector 
 ringing his cry on the mountain.” 
 
 “ It is impossible,” said Edwards ; “ it is not 
 an hour since I saw him in his kennel.” 
 
 By this time the attention of Mohegan was 
 attracted to the sounds; but, notwithstanding 
 the youth was both silent and attentive, he could 
 hear nothing but the lowing of some cattle from 
 the western hills. He looked at the old men, 
 Natty sitting with his hand to his ear, like a trum- 
 pet, and Mohegan bending forward, with an arm 
 raised to a level with his face, holding the fore- 
 finger elevated as a signal for attention, and laugh- 
 ed aloud at what he deemed to be their imag- 
 inary sounds. 
 
 “ Laugh if you will, boy,” said Leather-stock- 
 ing ; “ the hounds be out, and are hunting a deer. 
 No man can deceive me in such a matter. I 
 wouldn’t have had the thing happen for a beaver’s 
 skin. Not that I care for the law ! but the veni- 
 son is lean now, and the dumb things run the flesh 
 off their own bones for no good. Now do you 
 hear the hounds ? ” 
 
 Edward started, as a full cry broke on his ear, 
 changing from the distant sounds that were caused 
 by some intervening hill, to confused echoes that 
 rang among the rocks that the dogs were passing, 
 and then directly to a deep and hollow baying 
 that pealed under the forest on the lake shore. 
 These variations in the tones of the hounds passed 
 with amazing rapidity ; and, while his eyes were 
 glancing along the margin of the water, a tearing 
 of the branches of the alder and dogwood caught 
 his attention, at a spot near them, and at the next 
 moment a noble buck sprang on the shore, and 
 buried himself in the lake. A full-mouthed cry 
 followed, when Hector and the slut shot through 
 the opening in the bushes, and darted into the 
 lake also, bearing their breasts gallantly against 
 the water. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 “ Oft in the full descending flood he tries 
 To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides.” 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 “ I know’d it — I know’d it I ” cried Natty, 
 when both deer and hounds were in full view ; 
 “ the buck has gone by them with the wind, and 
 it has been too much for the poor rogues ; but I 
 must break them of these tricks, or they’ll give 
 me a deal of trouble. Ile-ere, he-ere — shore with 
 you, rascals — shore with you — will ye ? — Oh ! off 
 with you, old Hector, or I’ll hatchel your hide with 
 my ramrod when I get ye.” 
 
 The dogs knew their master’s voice, and after 
 swim min g in a circle, as if reluctant to give over 
 the chase, and yet afraid to persevere, they finally 
 obeyed, and returned to the land, where they filled 
 the air with their cries. 
 
 In the mean time the deer, urged by his fears, 
 had swum over half the distance between the shore 
 and the boats, before his terror permitted him to 
 see the new danger. But at the sounds of Natty’s 
 voice, he turned short in his course, and for a few 
 moments seemed about to rush back again, and 
 brave the dogs. His retreat in this direction was, 
 however, effectually cut off, and, turning a second 
 time, he urged his course obliquely for the centre 
 of the lake, with an intention of landing on the 
 western shore. As the buck swam by the fisher- 
 men, raising his nose high into the air, curling the 
 water before his slim neck like the beak of a gal- 
 ley, the Leather-stocking began to sit very un- 
 easy in his canoe. 
 
 “ ’ Tis a noble creater ! ” he exclaimed ; “ what 
 a pair of horns ! a man might hang up all his gar- 
 ments on the branches. Let me see — July is the 
 last month, and the flesh must be getting good.” 
 While he was talking, Natty had instinctively em- 
 ployed himself in fastening the inner end of tho 
 bark rope, that served him for a cable, to a pad- 
 dle, and, rising suddenly on his legs, he cast this 
 buoy away, and cried — “ Strike out, John ! let her 
 go. The creater’s a fool to tempt a man in this 
 way.” 
 
 Mohegan threw the fastening of the youth’s 
 boat from the canoe, and with one stroke of his 
 paddle sent the light bark over the water like a 
 meteor. 
 
 “Hold!” exclaimed Edwards. “Rememoer 
 the law, my old friends. You are in plain sight 
 of the village, and I know that Judge Temple is 
 determined to prosecute all indiscriminately, who 
 kill deer out of season.” 
 
 The remonstrance came too late ; the canoe 
 
 48 
 
130 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 was already far from the skiff, and the two hunters 
 were too much engaged in the pursuit to listen to 
 his voice. 
 
 The buck was now within fifty yards of his 
 pursuers, cutting the water gallantly, and snort- 
 ing at each breath with terror and his exertions, 
 while the canoe seemed to dance over the waves, 
 as it rose and fell with the undulations made by 
 its own motion. Leather-stocking raised his rifle 
 and freshened the priming, but stood in suspense 
 whether to slay his victim or not. 
 
 “ Shall I, John, or no ? ” he said, “ It seems 
 but a poor advantage to take of the dumb thing 
 too. I won’t ; it has taken to the water on its own 
 nater, which is the reason that God has given to a 
 deer, and I’ll give it the lake play ; so, J ohn, lay 
 out your arm, and mind the turn of the buck ; it’s 
 easy to catch them, but they’ll turn like a snake.” 
 
 The Indian laughed at the conceit of his friend, 
 but continued to send the canoe forward with a 
 velocity that proceeded much more from his skill 
 than his strength. Both of the old men now used 
 the language of the Delawares when they spoke. 
 
 “Hugh!” exclaimed Mohegan; “the deer 
 turns his head. Hawk-eye, lift your spear.” 
 
 Natty never moved abroad without taking with 
 him every implement that might, by possibility, 
 be of service in his pursuits. From his rifle he 
 never parted ; and, although intending to fish with 
 the line, the canoe was invariably furnished with 
 all of its utensils, even to its grate. This precau- 
 tion grew out of the habits of the hunter, who 
 was often led, by his necessities or his sports, far 
 beyond the limits of his original destination. A 
 few years earlier than the date of our tale, the 
 Leather-stocking had left his hut on the shores of 
 the Otsego, with his rifle and his hounds, for a few 
 days’ hunting in the hills ; but before he returned 
 he had seen the waters of Ontario. One, two, or 
 even three hundred miles had once been nothing 
 to his sinews, which were now a little stiffened 
 by age. The hunter did as Mohegan advised, and 
 prepared to strike a blow, with the barbed weapon, 
 into the neck of the buck. 
 
 “ Lay her more to the left, John,” he cried, 
 “ lay her more to the left ; another stroke of the 
 paddle, and I have him.” 
 
 While speaking, he raised the spear, and 
 darted it from him like an arrow. At that instant 
 the- buck turned, the long pole glanced by him, 
 the iron striking against his horn, and buried it- 
 self, harmlessly, in the lake. 
 
 “Back water,” cried Natty, as the canoe 
 glided over the place where the spear had fallen ; 
 “hold water, John.” 
 
 The pole soon reappeared, shooting upward 
 
 from the lake, and, as the hunter seized it in his 
 hand, the Indian whirled the light canoe round, 
 and renewed the chase. But this evolution gave 
 the buck a great advantage ; and it also allowed 
 time for Edwards to approach the scene of ac- 
 tion. 
 
 “ Hold your hand, Natty ! ” cried the youth, 
 “ hold your hand ! remember it is out of season.” 
 
 This remonstrance was made as the batteau 
 arrived close to the place where the deer was strug- 
 gling with the water, his back now rising to the 
 surface, now sinking beneath it, as the waves 
 curled from his neck, the animal still sustaining 
 itself nobly against the odds. 
 
 “ Hurrah ! ” shouted Edwards, inflamed be- 
 yond prudence at the sight ; “ mind him as he 
 doubles — mind him as he doubles ; sheer more to 
 the right, Mohegan, more to the right, and I’ll have 
 him by the horns ; I’ll throw the rope over his 
 antlers.” 
 
 The dark eye of the old warrior was dancing 
 in his head, with a wild animation, and the slug- 
 gish repose in which his aged frame had been 
 resting in the canoe was now changed to all the 
 rapid inflections of practised agility. The canoe 
 whirled with each cunning evolution of the chase, 
 like a bubble floating in a whirlpool ; and when 
 the direction of the pursuit admitted of a straight 
 course, the little bark skimmed the lake with a 
 velocity that urged the deer to seek its safety in 
 some new turn. 
 
 It was the frequency of these circuitous move- 
 ments, that, by confining the action to so small a 
 compass, enabled the youth to keep near his com- 
 panions. More than twenty times both the pur- 
 sued and the pursuers glided by him, just with- 
 out the reach of his oars, until he thought the 
 best way to view the sport was to remain station- 
 ary, and, by watching a favorable opportunity, 
 assist as much as he could, in taking the victim. 
 
 He was not required to wait long, for no 
 sooner had he adopted this resolution, and risen 
 in the boat, than he saw the deer coming bravely 
 toward him, with an apparent intention of push- 
 ing for a point of land at some distance from the 
 hounds, who were still barking and howling on 
 the shore. Edwards caught the painter of his 
 skiff, and, making a noose, cast it. from him with 
 all his force, and luckily succeeded in drawing its 
 knot close around one of the antlers of the buck. 
 
 For one instant, the skiff was drawn through 
 the water, but, in the next, the canoe glided before 
 it, and Natty, bending low, passed his knife across 
 the throat of the animal, whose blood followed 
 the wound, dyeing the waters. The short time 
 that was passed in the last struggles of the animal 
 
SQUIRE DOOLITTLE SUSPECTED. 
 
 131 
 
 was spent by the hunters in bringing their boats 
 together, and securing them in that position, when 
 Leather-stocking drew the deer from the water, 
 • and laid its lifeless form in the bottom of the canoe. 
 He placed his hands on the ribs, and on different 
 parts of the body of his prize, and then, raising 
 his head, he laughed in his peculiar manner : 
 
 “ So much for Marmaduke Temple’s law ! ” he 
 said. “ This warms a body’s blood, old John ; I 
 haven’t killed a buck in the lake afore this, sin’ 
 many a year. I call that good venison, lad ; and 
 I know them that will relish the creater’s steaks, 
 for all the betterments in the land.” 
 
 The Indian had long been drooping with his 
 years, and perhaps under the calamities of his 
 race, but this invigorating and exciting sport 
 caused a gleam of sunshine to cross his swarthy 
 face that had long been absent from his features. 
 It was evident the old man enjoyed the chase more 
 as a memorial of his youthful sports and deeds, 
 than with any expectation of profiting by the suc- 
 cess. He felt the deer, however, lightly, his hand 
 already trembling with the reaction of his unusual 
 exertions, and smiled with a nod of approbation, 
 as he said, in the emphatic and sententious man- 
 ner of his people : 
 
 • “Good.” 
 
 “ I am afraid, Natty,” said Edwards, when the 
 heat of the moment had passed, and his blood be- 
 gan to cool, “ that we have all been equally trans- 
 gressors of the law. But keep your own counsel, 
 and there are none here to betray us. Yet, how 
 came those dogs at large ? I left them securely 
 fastened, I know,, for I felt the thongs, and ex- 
 amined the knots, when I was at the hut.” 
 
 “ It has been too much for the poor things,” 
 said Natty, “ to have such a buck take the wind 
 of them. See, lad, the pieces of the buckskin 
 are hanging from their necks yet. Let us paddle 
 up, John, and I will call them in, and look a little 
 into the matter.” 
 
 When the old hunter landed, and examined 
 the thongs that were yet fast to the hounds, his 
 countenance sensibly changed, and he shook his 
 head doubtingly. 
 
 “Here has been a knife at work,” he said; 
 “ this skin was never torn, nor is this the mark of 
 a hound’s tooth. No, no — Hector is not in fault, 
 as I feared.” 
 
 “ Has the leather been cut ? ” cried Edwards. 
 
 “ No, no — I didn’t say it had been cut, lad ; 
 but this is a mark that was never made by a jump 
 or a bite.” 
 
 “ Could that rascally carpenter have dared ! ” 
 
 “ Ay ! he durst to do any thing when there is 
 no danger,” said Natty ; “ he is a curious body, and 
 
 j loves to be helping other people on with their con- 
 sarns. But he had best not harbor so much near 
 the wigwam ! ” 
 
 In the mean time, Mohegan had been examin- 
 ing, with an Indian’s sagacity, the place where the 
 leather thong had been separated. After scruti- 
 nizing it closely, he said, in Delaware : 
 
 “ It was cut with a knife — a sharp blade and 
 a long handle — the man was afraid of the dogs.” 
 
 “ How is this, Mohegan ? ” exclaimed Ed- 
 wards ; “ you saw it not ! how can you know these 
 facts ? ” 
 
 “ Listen, son,” said the warrior. “ The knife 
 was sharp, for the cut is smooth ; the handle was 
 long, for a man’s arm would not reach from this 
 gash to the cut that did not go through the skin ; 
 he was a coward, or he would have cut the 
 thongs around the necks of the hounds.” 
 
 “ On my life,” cried Natty, “ John is on the 
 scent ! It was the carpenter ; and he has got on 
 the rock back of the kennel, and let the dogs 
 loose by fastening his knife to a stick. It would 
 be an easy matter to do it, where a man is so mind- 
 ed.” 
 
 “ And why should he do so ? ” asked Ed- 
 wards : “ who has done him wrong, that he 
 should trouble two old men like you ? ” 
 
 “ It’s a hard matter, lad, to know men’s ways, 
 I find, since the settlers have brought in their 
 new fashions. But is there nothing to be found 
 out in the place ? and maybe he is troubled with 
 his longings after other people’s business, as he 
 often is.” 
 
 “ Your suspicions are just. Give me the ca- 
 noe ; I am young and strong, and will get down 
 there yet, perhaps, in time to interrupt his plans. 
 Heaven forbid that we should be at the mercy of 
 such a man ! ” 
 
 His proposal was accepted, the deer being 
 placed in the skiff in order to lighten the canoe, 
 and in less than five minutes the little vessel of 
 bark was gliding over the glassy lake, and was 
 soon hid by the points of land, as it shot close 
 along the shore. 
 
 Mohegan followed slowly with the skiff, while 
 Natty called his hounds to him, bade them keep 
 close, and, shouldering his rifle, he ascended the 
 mountain, with an intention of going to the hut 
 by land. 
 
132 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 “ Ask me not what the maiden feels, 
 
 Left in that dreadful hour alone ; 
 
 Perchance, her reason stoops, or reels ; 
 
 Perchance, a courage not her own, 
 
 Braces her mind to desperate tone.” 
 
 Scott. 
 
 While the chase was occurring on the lake, 
 Miss Temple and her companion pursued their 
 walk on the mountain. Male attendants on such 
 excursions were thought to be altogether unne- 
 cessary, for none were ever known to offer an 
 insult to a female, who respected herself. After 
 the embarrassment created by the parting dis- 
 course with Edwards had dissipated, the girls 
 maintained a conversation that was as innocent 
 and cheerful as themselves. 
 
 The path they took led them but a short dis- 
 tance above the hut of Leather-stocking, and 
 there was a point in the road which commanded 
 a bird’s-eye view of the sequestered spot. 
 
 From a feeling that might have been natural, 
 and must have been powerful, neither of the 
 friends, in their frequent and confidential dia- 
 logues, had ever trusted herself to utter one syl- 
 lable concerning the equivocal situation in which 
 the young man who was now so intimately asso- 
 ciated with them, had been found. If Judge 
 Temple had deemed it prudent to make any in- 
 quiries on the subject, he had also thought it 
 proper to keep the answers to himself ; though 
 it was so common an occurrence to find the 
 well-educated youth of the Eastern States in 
 every stage of their career to wealth, that the 
 simple circumstance of his intelligence, connect- 
 ed with his poverty, would not, at that day, and 
 in that country, have excited any very powerful 
 curiosity. With his breeding, it might have been 
 different ; but the youth himself had so effectu- 
 ally guarded against surprise on this subject, by 
 his cold, and even, in some cases, rude deport- 
 ment, that when his manners seemed to soften 
 by time, the Judge, if he thought about it at all, 
 would have been most likely to imagine that the 
 improvement was the result of his late associa- 
 tion. But women are always more alive to such 
 subjects than men ; and what the abstraction of 
 the father had overlooked, the observation of the 
 daughter had easily detected. In the thousand 
 little courtesies of polished life, she had early dis- 
 covered that Edwards was not wanting, though 
 his gentleness was so often crossed by marks of 
 what she conceived to be fierce and uncontrol- 
 lable passions. It may, perhaps, be unnecessary 
 to tell the reader that Louisa Grant never rea- 
 
 soned so much after the fashions of the world. 
 The gentle girl, however, had her own thoughts 
 on the subject, and, like others, she drew her owd 
 conclusions. 
 
 “ I would give all my other secrets, Louisa,” 
 exclaimed Miss Temple, laughing, and shaking 
 back her dark locks, with a look of childish sim- 
 plicity that her intelligent face seldom expressed, 
 “ to be mistress of all that those rude logs have 
 heard and witnessed.” 
 
 They were both looking at the secluded hut 
 at the instant, and Miss Grant raised her mild 
 eyes as she answered : 
 
 “ I am sure they would tell nothing to the 
 disadvantage of Mr. Edwards.” 
 
 “ Perhaps not ; but they might, at least, tell 
 who he is.” 
 
 “ Why, dear Miss Temple, we know all that 
 already. I have heard it all very rationally ex- 
 plained by your cousin — ” 
 
 “ The executive chief! he can explain any 
 thing. His ingenuity will one day discover the 
 philosopher’s stone. But what did he say ? ” 
 
 “ Say ! ” echoed Louisa, with a look of sur- 
 prise ; “ why, every thing that seemed to me to 
 be satisfactory, and I have believed it to be true. 
 He said that Natty Bumppo had lived most of his 
 life in the woods, and among the Indians, by 
 which means he had formed an acquaintance 
 with old John, the Delaware chief.” 
 
 “ Indeed ! that was quite a matter-of-fact tale 
 for cousin Dickon. What came next ? ” 
 
 “ I believe he accounted for their close inti- 
 macy, by some story about the Leather-stocking 
 saving the life of J ohn in a battle.” 
 
 “ Nothing more likely,” said Elizabeth, a lit- 
 tle impatiently ; “ but what is all this to the pur- 
 pose ? ” 
 
 “ Nay, Elizabeth, you must bear with my ig- 
 norance, and I will repeat all that I remember to 
 have overheard; for the dialogue was between 
 my father and the sheriff, so lately as the last 
 time they met. He then added, that the kings 
 of England used to keep gentlemen as agents 
 among the different tribe3 of Indians, and some- 
 times officers in the army, who frequently passed 
 half their lives on the edge of the wilderness.” 
 
 “Told with wonderful historical accuracy! 
 And did he end there ? ” 
 
 “ Oh ! no — then he said that these agents sel- 
 dom married ; and— and— they must have been 
 wicked men, Elizabeth ! but I assure you he said 
 so.” 
 
 “ Never mind,” said Miss Temple, blushing 
 and smiling, though so slightly, that both were 
 unheeded by her companion ; “ skip all that. ’ 
 
OLD BRAVE AND THE PANTHERS. 
 
 133 
 
 “Well, then, he said that they often took 
 great pride in the education of their children, 
 whom they frequently sent to England, and even 
 to the colleges ; and this is the way that he ac- 
 counts for the liberal manner in which Mr. Ed- 
 wards has been taught ; for he acknowledges that 
 he knows almost as much as your father — or 
 mine — or even himself.” 
 
 “ Quite a climax in learning ! And so he 
 made Mohegan the granduncle, or grandfather of 
 Oliver Edwards.” 
 
 “ You have heard him yourself, then ? ” said 
 Louisa. 
 
 “ Often ; but not on this subject. Mr. Rich- 
 ard Jones, you know, dear, has a theory for every 
 thing ; but has he one which will explain the rea- 
 son why that hut is the only habitation within 
 fifty miles of us, whose door is not open to every 
 person who may choose to lift its latch ? ” 
 
 “I have never heard him say any thing on 
 this subject,” returned the clergyman’s daughter ; 
 “ but I suppose that, as they are poor, they very 
 naturally are anxious to keep the little that they 
 honestly own. It is sometimes dangerous to be 
 rich, Miss Temple ; but you cannot know how 
 hard it is to be very, very poor.” 
 
 “Nor you, I trust, Louisa; at least I should 
 hope that, in this land of abundance, no minister 
 of the church could be left in absolute suffering.” 
 
 “There cannot be actual misery,” returned 
 the other, in a low and humble tone, “where 
 there is a dependence on our Maker ; but there 
 may be such suffering as will cause the heart to 
 ache.” 
 
 “ But not you — not you,” said the impetuous 
 Elizabeth — “ not you, dear girl : you have never 
 known the misery that is connected with pov- 
 erty.” 
 
 “ Ah ! Miss Temple, you little understand the 
 troubles of this life, I believe. My father has 
 spent many years as a missionary in the new 
 countries, where his people were poor, and fre- 
 quently we have been without bread ; unable to 
 buy, and ashamed to beg* because we would not 
 disgrace his. sacred calling. But how often have 
 I seen him leave his home, where the sick and 
 the hungry felt, when he left them, that they had 
 lost their only earthly friend, to ride on a duty 
 which could not be neglected for domestic evils. 
 Oh ! how hard it must be to preach consolation 
 to others, when your own heart is bursting with 
 anguish ! ” 
 
 “ But it is all over now ! your father’s income 
 must now be equal to his wants — it must be — it 
 
 shall be—” 
 
 “ It is,” replied Louisa, dropping her head on 
 
 her bosom, to conceal the tears which flowed in 
 spite of her gentle Christianity — “ for there are 
 none left to be supplied but me.” 
 
 The turn the conversation had taken drove 
 from the minds of the young maidens all other 
 thoughts but those of holy charity ; and Eliza- 
 beth folded her friend in her arms, when the lat- 
 ter gave vent to her momentary grief in audible 
 sobs. When this burst of emotion had subsided, 
 Louisa raised her mild countenance, and they con- 
 tinued their walk in silence. 
 
 By this time they had gained the summit of 
 the mountain, where they left the highway, and 
 pursued their course under the shade of the state- 
 ly trees that crowned the eminence. The day 
 was becoming warm, and the girls plunged more 
 deeply into the forest, as they found its invigorat- 
 ing coolness agreeably contrasted to the exces- 
 sive heat they had experienced in the ascent. 
 The conversation, as if by mutual consent, was 
 entirely changed to the little incidents and scenes 
 of their walk, and every tall pine, and every shrub 
 or flower, called forth some simple expression of 
 admiration. 
 
 In this manner they proceeded along the mar- 
 gin of the precipice, catching occasional glimpses 
 of the placid Otsego, or pausing to listen to the 
 rattling of wheels and the sounds of hammers, 
 that rose from the valley, to mingle the signs of 
 men with the scenes of nature, when Elizabeth 
 suddenly started, and exclaimed : 
 
 “ Listen ! there are the cries of a child on 
 this mountain ! is there a clearing near us ? or 
 can some little one have strayed from its pa- 
 rents ? ” 
 
 “ Such things frequently happen,” returned 
 Louisa. “ Let us follow the sounds : it may be a 
 wanderer starving on the hill.” 
 
 Urged by this consideration, the females pur- 
 sued the low, mournful sounds, that proceeded 
 from the forest, with quick and impatient steps. 
 More than once, the ardent Elizabeth was on the 
 point of announcing that she saw the sufferer, 
 when Louisa caught her by the arm, and, pointing 
 behind them, cried : 
 
 “ Look at the dog ! ” 
 
 Brave had been their companion, from the 
 time the voice of his young mistress lured him 
 from his kennel, to the present moment. His 
 ‘advanced age had long before deprived him of 
 his activity ; and when his companions stopped 
 to view the scenery, or to add to their bouquets, 
 the mastiff would lay his huge frame on the 
 ground, and await their movements, with his eyes 
 closed, and a listlessness in his air that ill ac- 
 corded with the character of a protector. But 
 
134 
 
 THE PIONEERb. 
 
 when, aroused by this cry from Louisa, Miss 
 Temple turned, she saw the dog with his eyes 
 keenly set on some distant object, nis head bent 
 near the ground, and his hair actually rising on his 
 body, through fright or anger. It was most proba- 
 bly the latter, for he was growling in a low key, and 
 occasionally showing his teeth, in a manner that 
 would have terrified his mistress, had she not so 
 well known his good qualities. 
 
 “ Brave 1 ” sh# said, “ be quiet, Brave ! what 
 do you see, fellow ? ” 
 
 At the sounds of her voice, the rage of the 
 mastiff, instead of being at all diminished, was 
 very sensibly increased. He stalked in front of 
 the ladies, and seated himself at the feet of his 
 mistress, growling louder than before, and occa- 
 sionally giving vent to his ire, by a short, surly 
 barking. 
 
 “ What does he see ? ” said Elizabeth : “ there 
 must be some animal in sight.” 
 
 Hearing no answer from her companion, Miss 
 Temple turned her head, and beheld Louisa, 
 standing with her face whitened to the color of 
 death, and her finger pointing upward, with a sort 
 of flickering, convulsed motion. The quick eye 
 of Elizabeth glanced in the direction indicated by 
 her friend, where she Saw the fierce front and 
 glaring eyes of a female panther, fixed on them in 
 horrid malignity, and threatening to leap. 
 
 “Let us fly,” exclaimed Elizabeth, grasping 
 the arm of Louisa, whose form yielded like melt- 
 ing snow. 
 
 There was not a single feeling in the tempera- 
 ment of Elizabeth Temple that could prompt her 
 to desert a companion in such an extremity. 
 She fell on her knees, by the side of the inanimate 
 Louisa, tearing from the person of her friend, 
 with instinctive readiness, such parts of her dress 
 as might obstruct her respiration, and encourag- 
 ing their only safeguard, the dog, at the same 
 time, by the sounds of her voice. 
 
 “ Courage, Brave ! ” she cried, her own tones 
 beginning to tremble, “courage, courage, good 
 Brave ! ” 
 
 A quarter-grown cub, that had hitherto been 
 unseen, now appeared, dropping from the branches 
 of a sapling that grew under the shade of the 
 beech which held its dam. This ignorant, but 
 vicious creature, approached the dog, imitating 
 the actions and sounds of its parent, but exhibit- 
 ing a strange mixture of the playfulness of a kit- 
 ten with the ferocity of its race. Standing on its 
 hind-legs, it would rend the bark of a tree with 
 its fore-paws, and play the antics of a cat ; and 
 then, by lashing itself with its tail, growling, and 
 scratching the earth, it would attempt the mani- 
 
 festations of anger that rendered its parent so 
 terrific. 
 
 All this time Brave stood firm and undaunted, 
 his short tail erect, his Dody drawn backward on 
 its haunches, and his eyes following the move- 
 ments of both dam and cub. At every gambol 
 played by the latter, it approached nigher to the 
 dog, the growling of the three becoming more 
 horrid at each moment, until the younger beast, 
 overleaping its intended bound, fell directly before 
 the mastiff. There was a moment of fearful cries 
 and struggles, but they ended almost as soon as 
 commenced, by the cub appearing in the air, 
 hurled from the jaws of Brave, with a violence 
 that sent it against a tree so forcibly as to render 
 it completely senseless. 
 
 Elizabeth witnessed the short struggle, and 
 her blood was warming with the triumph of the 
 dog, when she saw the form of the old panther in 
 the air, springing twenty feet from the branch of 
 the beech to the back of the mastiff. No words 
 of ours can describe the fury of the conflict that 
 followed. It was a confused struggle on the dry 
 leaves, accompanied by loud and terrific cries. 
 Miss Temple continued on her knees, bending 
 over the form of Louisa, her eyes fixed on the 
 animals, with an interest so horrid, and yet so 
 intense, that she almost forgot her own stake in 
 the result. So rapid and vigorous were the 
 bounds of the inhabitant of the forest, that its 
 active frame seemed constantly in the air, while 
 the dog nobly faced his foe at each successive 
 leap. When the panther lighted on the shoulders 
 of the mastiff, which was its constant aim, old 
 Brave, though torn with her talons, and stained 
 with his own blood, that already flowed from a 
 dozen wounds, would shake off his furious foe 
 like a feather, and rearing on his hind-legs, rush 
 to the fray again, with jaws distended, and a 
 dauntless eye. But age, and his pampered life, 
 greatly disqualified the noble mastiff for such a 
 struggle. In every thing but courage, he was 
 only the vestige of what he had once been. A 
 higher bound than ever raised the wary and 
 furious beast far beyond the reach of the dog, who 
 was making a desperate but fruitless dash at her, 
 from which she alighted in a favorable position, 
 on the back of her aged foe. For a single mo- 
 ment only could the panther remain there, the 
 great strength of the dog returning with a con- 
 vulsive effort. But Elizabeth saw, as Brave fas- 
 tened his teeth in the side of his enemy, that the 
 collar of brass around his neck, which had been 
 glittering throughout the fray, was of the color 
 of blood, and directly, that his frame was sink- 
 ing to the earth, where it soon lay prostrate and 
 
THE YOUNG LADIES IN DANGER. 
 
 135 
 
 helpless. Several mighty efforts of the wild-cat 
 to extricate herself from the jaws of the dog fol- 
 lowed, but they were fruitless, until the mastiff 
 turned on his back, his lips collapsed, and his 
 teeth loosened, when the short convulsions and 
 stillness that succeeded, announced the death of 
 poor Brave. 
 
 Elizabeth now lay wholly at the mercy of the 
 beast. There is said to be something in the front 
 of the image of the Maker that daunts the hearts 
 of the inferior beings of his creation; and it 
 would seem that some such power, in the present 
 instance, suspended the threatened blow. The 
 eyes of the monster and the kneeling maiden met 
 for an instant, when the former stooped to exam- 
 ine her fallen foe; next, to scent her luckless cub. 
 From the latter examination, it turned, however, 
 with its eyes apparently emitting flashes of fire, 
 its tail lashing its sides furiously, and its claws 
 projecting inches from her broad feet. 
 
 Miss Temple did not or could not move. Her 
 hands were clasped in the attitude of prayer, but 
 her eyes were still drawn to her terrible enemy — 
 her cheeks were blanched to the whiteness of 
 marble, and her lips were slightly separated with 
 horror. 
 
 The moment seemed now to have arrived for 
 the fatal termination, and the beautiful figure of 
 Elizabeth was bowing meekly to the stroke, when 
 a rustling of leaves behind seemed rather to mock 
 the organs than to meet her ears. 
 
 “ Hist ! hist ! ” said a low voice, “ steep lower, 
 gal ; your bonnet hides the creature’s head.” 
 
 It was rather the yielding of nature than a 
 compliance with this unexpected order, that 
 caused the head of our heroine to sink on her 
 bosom ; when she heard the report of the rifle, 
 the whizzing of the bullet, and the enraged cries 
 of the beast, who was rolling over on the earth, bit- 
 ing its own flesh, and tearing the twigs and 
 branches within its reach. At the next instant 
 the form of the Leather-stocking rushed by her, 
 and he called aloud : 
 
 “ Come in, Hector, come in, old fool ; ’tis a 
 hard-lived animal, and may jump ag’in.” 
 
 Natty fearlessly maintained his position in 
 front of the females, notwithstanding the violent 
 bounds and threatening aspect of the wounded 
 panther, which gave several indications of re- 
 turning strength and ferocity, until his rifle was 
 again loaded, when he stepped up to the enraged 
 animal, and, placing the muzzle close to its head, 
 every spark of life was extinguished by the dis- 
 charge. 
 
 The death of her terrible enemy appeared to 
 Elizabeth like a resurrection from her own grave. 
 
 There was an elasticity in the mind of our heroine 
 that rose to meet the pressure of instant danger, 
 and the more direct it had been, the more her 
 nature had struggled to overcome them. But 
 still she was a woman. Had she been left to her- 
 self in her late extremity, she would probably have 
 used her faculties to the utmost, and with discre- 
 tion, in protecting her person; but, encumbered 
 with her inanimate friend, retreat was a thing not 
 to be attempted. Notwithstanding the fearful 
 aspect of her foe, the eye of Elizabeth had never 
 shrunk from its gaze, and long after the event her 
 thoughts would recur to her passing sensations, 
 and the sweetness of her midnight sleep would 
 be disturbed, as her active fancy conjured, in 
 dreams, the most trifling movements of savage 
 fury that the beast had exhibited in its moment 
 of power. 
 
 We shall leave the reader to imagine the res- 
 toration of Louisa’s senses, and the expressions 
 of gratitude which fell from the young women. 
 The former was effected by a little water, that was 
 brought from one of the thousand springs of those 
 mountains, in the cap of the Leather-stocking; 
 and the latter were uttered with the warmth that 
 might be expected from the character of Eliza- 
 beth. Natty received her vehement protestations 
 of gratitude with a simple expression of good-will, 
 and with indulgence for her present excitement, 
 but with a carelessness that showed how little he 
 thought of the service he had rendered. 
 
 “Well, well,” he said, “be it so, gal ; let it be 
 so, if you wish it — we’ll talk the thing over an- 
 other time. Come, come — let us get into the road, 
 for you’ve had terror enough to make you wish 
 yourself in your father’s house ag’in.” 
 
 This was uttered as they were proceeding, 
 at a pace that was adapted to the weakness of 
 Louisa, toward the highway : on reaching which 
 the ladies separated from their guide, declaring 
 themselves equal to the remainder of the walk 
 without his assistance, and feeling encouraged by 
 the sight of the village which lay beneath their 
 feet like a picture, with its limpid lake in front, 
 the winding stream along its margin, and its hun- 
 dred chimneys of whitened bricks. 
 
 The reader need not be told the nature of the 
 emotions which two youthful, ingenuous, and well- 
 educated girls woul d experience at their escape 
 from a death so horrid as the one which had im- 
 pended over them, while they pursued their way ' 
 in silence along the track on the side of the moun- 
 tain ; nor how deep were their mental thanks to 
 that Power which had given them their existence, 
 and which had not deserted them in their extrem- 
 ity ; neither how often they pressed each other’s 
 
136 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 arms, as the assurance of their present safety 
 came, like a healing balm athwart their troubled 
 spirits, when their thoughts were recurring to the 
 recent moments of horror. 
 
 Leather-stocking remained on the hill, gazing 
 after their retiring figures, until they were hidden 
 by a bend in the road, when he whistled in his 
 dogs, and, shouldering his rifle, he returned into 
 the forest. 
 
 “Well, it was a skeary thing to the young 
 creaters,” said Natty, while he retrod the path 
 toward the plain. “ It might frighten an older 
 woman, to see a she-painter so near her, with a 
 dead cub by its side. I wonder if I had aimed at 
 the varmint’s eye, if I shouldn’t have touched the 
 life sooner than in the forehead : but they are 
 hard-lived animals, and it was a good shot, con- 
 sid’ring that I could see nothing but the head and 
 the peak of its tail. Hah ! who goes there ? ” 
 
 “ How goes it, Natty ? ” said Mr. Doolittle, 
 stepping out of the bushes, with a motion that 
 was a good deal accelerated by the sight of the 
 rifle, that was already lowered in his direction. 
 “ What ! shooting this warm day ! mind, old man, 
 the law don’t get hold on you.” 
 
 “ The law, squire ! I have shook hands with 
 the law these forty year,” returned Natty ; “ for 
 what has a man who lives in the wilderness to do 
 with the ways of the law ? ” 
 
 “Not much, may be,” said Hiram ; “but you 
 sometimes trade in venison. I s’pose you know, 
 Leather-stocking, that there is an act passed to 
 lay a fine of five pounds currency, or twelve dol- 
 lars and fifty cents, by decimals, on every man 
 who kills a deer betwixt January and August. 
 The Judge had a great hand in getting the law 
 through.” 
 
 “ I can believe it,” returned the old hunter ; 
 “ I can believe that or any thing, of a man who 
 carries on as he does in the country.” 
 
 “Yes, the law is quite positive, and the Judge 
 is bent on putting it in force — five pounds pen- 
 alty. I thought I heard your hounds out on the 
 scent of so’thing this morning : I didn’t know but 
 they might get you in difficulty.” 
 
 “ They know their manners too well,” said 
 Natty, carelessly. “ And how much goes to the 
 State’s evidence, squire ? ” 
 
 “ How much ! ” repeated Hiram, quailing under 
 the honest but sharp look of the hunter : “ the in- 
 former gets half, I — I believe — yes, I guess it’s 
 half. But there’s blood on your sleeve, man — you 
 haven’t been shooting any thing this morning ? ” 
 “ I have, though,” said the hunter, nodding his 
 head significantly to the other, “ and a good shot 
 I made of it.” 
 
 “ H-e-m ! ” ejaculated the magistrate ; “ and 
 where is the game ? I s’pose it’s of a good nater, 
 for your dogs won’t hunt at any thing that isn’t 
 choice.” 
 
 “ They’ll hunt any thing I tell then to, squire,” 
 cried Natty, favoring the other with his laugh. 
 “ They’ll hunt you, if I say so. He-e-e-re, he-e-e-re, 
 Hector — he-e-e-re, slut — come this-away, pups — 
 come this-away — come hither.” 
 
 “ Oh ! I have always heard a good character 
 of the dogs,” returned Mr. Doolittle, quickening 
 his pace by raising each leg in rapid succession, 
 as the hounds scented around his person. “ And 
 where is the game, Leather-stocking ? ” 
 
 During this dialogue, the speakers had been 
 walking at a very fast gait, and Natty swung the 
 end of his rifle round, pointing through the bush- 
 es, and replied : 
 
 “ There lies one. How do you like such 
 meat ? ” 
 
 “ This ! ” exclaimed Hiram ; “ why, this is 
 Judge Temple’s dog Brave. Take care, Leather- 
 stocking, and don’t make an enemy of the Judge. 
 I hope you haven’t harmed the animal ? ” 
 
 “ Look for yourself, Mr. Doolittle,” said Natty, 
 drawing his knife from his girdle, and wiping it, 
 in a knowing manner, once or twice across his 
 garment of buckskin ; “ does his throat look as if 
 I had cut it with this knife ? ” 
 
 “ It is dreadfully tom ! it’s an awful wound- 
 no knife never did this deed. Who could have 
 done it ? ” 
 
 “ The painters behind you, squire.” 
 
 “ Painters ! ” echoed Hiram, whirling on Ids 
 his heel with an agility that would have done cred- 
 it to a dancing-master. 
 
 “ Be easy, man,” said Natty ; “ there’s two of 
 the venomous things ; but the dog finished one, 
 and I have fastened the other’s jaws for her ; so 
 don’t be frightened, squire, they won’t hurt you.” 
 
 “And where’s the deer? ’’ cried Hiram, star- 
 ing about him with a bewildered air. 
 
 “ Anan ! deer ! ” repeated Natty. 
 
 “ Sartain, an’t there venison here, or didn’t 
 you kill a buck ? ” 
 
 “ What ! when the law forbids the thing, 
 squire ! ” said the old hunter. “ I hope there’s no 
 law ag’in killing the painters.” 
 
 “ No ; there’s a bounty on the scalps — but — 
 will your dogs hunt painters, Natty ? ” 
 
 “ Any thing ; didn’t I tell you they would hunt 
 a man ? He-e-re, he-e-re, pups — ” 
 
 “ Yes, yes, I remember. Well, they are 
 strange dogs, I must say — I am quite in a won- 
 derment.” 
 
 Natty had seated himself on the ground, and 
 
NATTY’S CONTEMPT OF HIRAM. 
 
 137 
 
 having laid the grim head of his late ferocious 
 enemy in his lap, was drawing his knife with a 
 practised hand around the ears, which he tore 
 from the head of the beast in such a manner as to 
 preserve their connection, when he answered : 
 
 “ What at, squire ? did you never see a paint- 
 er’s scalp afore ? Come, you are a magistrate, I 
 wish you’d make me out an order for the bounty.” 
 
 “ The bounty ! ” repeated Hiram, holding the 
 ears on the end of his finger, for a moment as if 
 uncertain how to proceed. “ Well, let us go down 
 to your hut, where you can take the oath, and I 
 will write out the order. I suppose you have a 
 Bible ? all the law wants is the four evangelists 
 and the Lord’s prayer.” 
 
 “ I keep no books,” said Natty, a little coldly : 
 “ not such a Bible as the law needs.” 
 
 “ Oh ! there’s but one sort of Bible that’s good 
 in law,” returned the magistrate : “ and yourn will 
 do as well as another’s. Come, the carcasses are 
 worth nothing, man ; let us go down and take 
 the oath.” 
 
 “ Softly, softly, squire,” said the hunter, lift- 
 ing his trophies very deliberately from the ground, 
 and shouldering his rifle ; “ why do you want an 
 oath at all, for a thing that your own eyes has 
 seen ? won’t you believe yourself, that another 
 man must swear to a fact that you know to be 
 true ? You have seen me scalp the creaters, and 
 if I must swear to it, it shall be before Judge 
 Temple, who needs an oath.” 
 
 “But we have no pen or paper here, Leather- 
 stocking ; we must go to the hut for them, or how 
 can I write the order.” 
 
 Natty turned his simple features on the cun- 
 ning magistrate with another of his laughs, as he 
 
 said: 
 
 “ And what should I be doing with scholars’ 
 tools ? I want no pens or paper, not knowing 
 the use of either ; and I keep none. No, no, I’ll 
 bring the scalps into the village, squire, and you 
 can make out the order on one of your law-books, 
 and it will be all the better for it. The deuce take 
 this leather on the neck of the dog, it will strangle 
 the old fool. Can you lend me a knife, squire ? ” 
 
 Hiram, who seemed particularly anxious to be 
 on good terms with his companion, unhesitatingly 
 complied. Natty cut the thong from the neck of 
 the hound, and, as he returned the knife .to its 
 Owner, carelessly remarked : 
 
 “ ’Tis a good bit of steel, and has cut such 
 leather as this very same, before now, I dare 
 say.” 
 
 “ Do you mean to charge me with letting your 
 hounds loose ? ” exclaimed Hiram, with a con- 
 sciousness that disarmed his caution. 
 
 “ Loose ! ” repeated the hunter — “ I let them 
 loose myself. I always let them loose before I 
 leave the hut.” 
 
 The ungovernable amazement with which Mr. 
 Doolittle listened to this falsehood, would have 
 betrayed his agency in the liberation of the dogs, 
 had Natty wanted any further confirmation ; and 
 the coolness and management of the old man now 
 disappeared in open indignation. 
 
 “ Look you here, Mr. Doolittle,” he said, 
 striking the breech of his rifle violently on the 
 ground ; “ what there is in the wigwam of a poor 
 man like me, that one like you can crave; I don’t 
 know ; but this I tell you to your face, that you 
 never shall put foot under the roof of my cabin 
 with my consent, and that, if you harbor round 
 the spot as you have done lately, you may meet 
 with treatment that you will little relish.” 
 
 “ And let me tell you, Mr. Bumppo,” said 
 Hiram, retreating, however, with a quick step, 
 “ that I know you’ve broke the law, and that I’m 
 a magistrate, and will make you feel it too, before 
 you are a day older.” 
 
 “ That for you and your law too,” cried Natty, 
 snapping his fingers at the justice of the peace : 
 “ away with you, you varmint, before the devil 
 tempts me to give you your desarts. Take care, 
 if I ever catch your prowling face in the woods 
 ag’in, that I don’t shoot it for an owl.” 
 
 There is something at all times commanding 
 in honest indignation, and Hiram did not stay to 
 provoke the wrath of the old hunter to extremi- 
 ties. When the intruder was out of sight, Natty 
 proceeded to the hut, where he found all quiet as 
 the grave. He fastened his dogs, and tapping at 
 the door, which was opened by Edwards, asked : 
 
 “ Is all safe, lad ! ” 
 
 “ Every thing,” returned the youth. “ Some 
 one attempted the lock, but it was too strong for 
 him.” 
 
 “ I know the creater,” said Natty, “ but he’ll 
 not trust himself within reach of my rifle very 
 soon — ” What more was uttered by the Leath- 
 er-stocking, in his vexation, was rendered inaudi- 
 ble by the closing of the door of the cabin. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 “ It is noised, he hath a mass of treasure.” 
 
 Timon of Athens. 
 
 When Marmaduke Temple and his cousin 
 rode through the gate of the former, the heart 
 of the father had been too recently touched with 
 the best feelings of our nature, to leave inclina- 
 
138 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 tion for immediate discourse. There was an im- 
 portance in the air of Richard, which would not 
 have admitted of the ordinary informal conversa- 
 tion of the sheriff, without violating all the rules 
 of consistency ; and the equestrians pursued their 
 way with great diligence, for more than a mile, in 
 profound silence. At length the soft expression 
 of parental affection was slowly chased from the 
 handsome features of the Judge, and was gradu- 
 ally supplanted by the cast of humor and benevo- 
 lence that was usually seated on his brow. 
 
 “ Well, Dickon,” he said, “ since I have yield- 
 ed myself so far implicitly to your guidance, I 
 think the moment has arrived when I am entitled 
 to further confidence. Why and wherefore are 
 we journeying together in this solemn gait ? ” 
 
 The sheriff gave a loud hem, that rang far in 
 the forest, and keeping his eyes fixed on objects 
 before him, like a man who is looking deep into 
 futurity : 
 
 “ There has always been one point of differ- 
 ence between us, Judge Temple, I may say, since 
 our nativity,” he replied ; “ not that I would in- 
 sinuate that you are at all answerable for the acts 
 of Nature ; for a man is no more to be con- 
 demned for the misfortunes of his birth, than he 
 is to be commended for the natural advantages 
 he may possess ; but on one point we may be said 
 to have differed from our births, and they, you 
 know, occurred within two days of each other.” 
 
 “ I really marvel, Richard, what this one point 
 can be ; for, to my eyes, we seem to differ so ma- 
 terially, and so often — ” 
 
 “ Mere consequences, sir,” interrupted the 
 sheriff ; “ all our minor differences proceed from 
 one cause, and that is, our opinions of the uni- 
 versal attainments of genius.” 
 
 “ In what, Dickon ? ” 
 
 “ I speak plain English, I believe, Judge Tem- 
 ple ; at least I ought ; for my father, who taught 
 me, could speak — ” 
 
 “ Greek and Latin,” interrupted Marmaduke. 
 “ I well know the qualifications of your family in 
 tongues, Dickon. But proceed to the point ; why 
 are we travelling over this mountain to-day ? ” 
 
 “ To do justice to any subject, sir, the narra- 
 tor must be suffered to proceed in his own way,” 
 continued the sheriff. “ You are of opinion, 
 Judge Temple, that a man is to be qualified by 
 nature and education to do only one thing well, 
 whereas I know that genius will supply the place 
 of learning, and that a certain sort of man can 
 do any thing and every thing.’’ 
 
 “ Like yourself, I suppose,” said Marmaduke, 
 smiling. 
 
 “ I scorn personalities, sir, I say nothing of 
 
 myself ; but there are three men on your Patent, 
 of the kind that I should term talented by nature 
 for her general purposes, though acting under the 
 influence of different situations.” 
 
 “We are better off, then, than I had supposed. 
 Who are these triumviri ? ” 
 
 “ Why, sir, one is Hiram Doolittle ; a carpen- 
 ter by trade, as you know — and I need only point 
 to the village to exhibit his merits. Then he is a 
 magistrate, and might shame many a man, in his 
 distribution of justice, who has had better oppor- 
 tunities.” 
 
 “ Well, he is one,” said Marmaduke, with the 
 air of a man that was determined not to dispute 
 the point. 
 
 “ Jotham Riddel is another.” 
 
 “ Who ? ” 
 
 “ Jotham Riddel.” 
 
 “ What, that dissatisfied, shiftless, lazy, specu- 
 lating fellow ! he who changes his county every 
 three years, his farm every six months, and his 
 occupation every season ! an agriculturist yester- 
 day, a shoemaker to-day, and a schoolmaster to- 
 morrow ? that epitome of all the unsteady and 
 profitless propensities of the settlers without one 
 of their good qualities to counterbalance the evil ! 
 Nay, Richard, this is too bad for even — but the 
 third?” 
 
 “ As the third is not used to hearing such 
 comments on his character, Judge Temple, I shall 
 not name him.” 
 
 “ The amount of all this, then, Dickon, is, 
 that the trio, of which you are one, and the prin- 
 cipal, have made some important discovery.” 
 
 “ I have not said that I am one, Judge Tem- 
 ple. As I told you before, I say nothing egotis- 
 tical. But a discovery has been made, and you 
 are deeply interested in it.” 
 
 “ Proceed — I am all ears.” 
 
 “No, no, ’duke you are bad enough, I own, 
 but not so bad as that, either : your ears are not 
 quite full grown.” 
 
 “ The sheriff laughed heartily at his own wit, 
 and put himself in good-humor thereby, when he 
 gratified his patient cousin with the following 
 explanation : 
 
 “ You know, ’duke, there is a man living on 
 your estate that goes by the name of Natty 
 Bumppo. Here has this man lived, by what I 
 can learn, for more than forty years — by him- 
 self, until lately ; and now with strange compan- 
 ions.” 
 
 “ Part very true, and all very probable,” said 
 the Judge. 
 
 “ All true, sir ; all true. Well, within thes« 
 last few months have appeared as his compan« 
 
MINES OF PRECIOUS METALS. 
 
 139 
 
 Ions, an old Indian chief, the last, or one of the 
 last of his tribe that is to be found in this part 
 of the cc untry, and a young man, who is said to 
 be the son of some Indian agent, by a squaw.” 
 
 “ Who says that ? ” cried Marmaduke, with 
 an interest that he had not manifested before. 
 
 “ Who ? why common sense — common report 
 — the hue and cry. But listen till you know all. 
 This youth has very pretty talents — yes, what I 
 call very pretty talents — and has been well edu- 
 cated, has seen very tolerable company, and 
 knows how to behave himself, when he has a 
 mind to. Now, Judge Temple, can you tell me 
 what has brought three such men as Indian 
 John, Natty Bumppo, and Oliver Edwards to- 
 gether ? ” 
 
 Marmaduke turned his countenance, in evi- 
 dent surprise, to his cousin, and replied quickly : 
 
 “ Thou hast unexpectedly hit on a subject, 
 Richard, that has often occupied my mind. But 
 knowest thou any thing of this mystery, or are 
 they only the crude conjectures of — ” 
 
 “Crude nothing, ’duke, crude nothing; but 
 facts, stubborn facts. You know there are mines 
 in these mountains ; I have often heard you say 
 that you believed in their existence.” 
 
 “ Reasoning from analogy, Richard, but not 
 with any certainty of the fact.” 
 
 “ You have heard them mentioned, and have 
 Been specimens of the ore, sir ; you will not deny 
 that ! and, reasoning from analogy, as you say, 
 if there be mines in South America, ought there 
 not to be mines in North America too ? ” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, I deny nothing, my cousin. I 
 certainly have heard many rumors of the exist- 
 ence of mines in these hills ; and I do believe 
 that I have seen specimens of the precious met- 
 als that have been found here. It would occa- 
 sion me no surprise to learn that tin and silver, 
 or, what I consider of more consequence, good 
 coal — ” 
 
 “ Damn your coal,” cried the sheriff ; “ who 
 wants to find coal in these forests ? No, no, sil- 
 ver, ’duke ; silver is the one thing needful, and 
 silver is to be found. But listen : you are not 
 to be told that the natives have long known the 
 use of gold and silver ; now who so likely to be 
 acquainted where they are to be found, as the 
 ancient inhabitants of a country ? I have the 
 best reasons for believing that both Mohegan and 
 the Leather-stocking have been privy to the ex- 
 istence of a mine in this very mountain, for many 
 years.” 
 
 The sheriff had now touched his cousin in a 
 sensitive spot ; and Marmaduke lent a more at- 
 tentive ear to the speaker, who, after waiting a 
 
 moment, to see the effect of this extraordinary 
 development, proceeded : 
 
 “ Yes, sir, I have my reasons, and at a proper 
 time you shall know them.” 
 
 “ No time is so good as the present.” 
 
 “ Well, well, be attentive,” continued Rich- 
 ard, looking cautiously about him, to make cer- 
 tain that no eavesdropper was hid in the forest, 
 though they were in constant motion. “ I have 
 seen Mohegan and the Leather-stocking, with my 
 own eyes — and my eyes are as good as anybody’s 
 eyes — I have seen them, I say, both going up the 
 mountain and coming down it, with spades and 
 picks ; and others have seen them carrying things 
 into their hut, in a secret and mysterious man- 
 ner, after dark. Do you call this a fact of im- 
 portance ? ” 
 
 The Judge did not reply, but his brow had 
 contracted, with a thoughtfulness that he always 
 wore when much interested, and his eyes rested 
 on his cousin in expectation of hearing more. 
 Richard continued : 
 
 “It was ore. Now, sir, I ask if you can tell 
 me who this Mr. Oliver Edwards is, that has made 
 a part of your household since Christmas ? ” 
 
 Marmaduke again raised his eyes, but con- 
 tinued silent, shaking his head in the negative. 
 
 “ That he is a half-breed we know, for Mohe- 
 gan does not scruple to call him openly his kins- 
 man ; that he is well educated we know. But as 
 to his business here — do you remember that 
 about a month before this young man made his 
 appearance among us, Natty was absent from 
 home several days ? You do ; for you inquired 
 for him, as you wanted some venison to take to 
 your friends, when you went for Bess. Well, he 
 was not to be found. Old John was left in the 
 hut alone ; and when Natty did appear, although 
 he came on in the night, he was seen drawing 
 one of those jumpers that they carry their grain 
 to mill in, and to take out something with great 
 care, that he had covered up under his bear-skins. 
 Now let me ask you, Judge Temple, what motive 
 could induce a man like the Leather-stocking to 
 make a sled, and toil with a load over these 
 mountains, if he had nothing but his rifle or his 
 ammunition to carry ? ” 
 
 “ They frequently make these jumpers to con- 
 vey their game home, and you say he had been 
 absent many days.” 
 
 “ How did he kill it ? His rifle was in the 
 village, to be mended. No, no — that he was gone 
 to some unusual place is certain ; that he brought 
 back some secret utensils is more certain ; and 
 that he has not allowed a soul to approach his 
 hut since is most certain of all.” 
 
140 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “ He was never fond of intruders — ” 
 
 “ I know it,” interrupted Richard ; “ but did 
 he drive them from his cabin morosely ? Within 
 a fortnight of his return, this Mr. Edwards ap- 
 pears. They spend whole days in the mountains, j 
 pretending to be shooting, but in realty explor- 
 ing ; the frosts prevent their digging at that time, 
 and he avails himself of a lucky accident to get 
 into good quarters. But even now, he is quite 
 half of his time in that hut — many hours every 
 night. They are smelting, ’duke, they are smelt- 
 ing, and as they grow rich, you grow poor.” 
 
 “ How much of this is thine own, Richard, 
 and how much comes from others ? I would sift 
 the wheat from the chaff.” 
 
 “ Part is my own, for I saw the jumper, though 
 it was broken up and burnt in a day or two. I 
 have told you that I saw the old man with his 
 spades and picks. Hiram met Natty, as he was 
 crossing the mountain, the night of his arrival 
 with the sled, and very good-naturedly offered — 
 Hiram is good-natured — to carry up part of his 
 load, for the old man had a heavy pull up the 
 back of the mountain, but he wouldn’t listen to 
 the thing, and repulsed the offer in such a man- 
 ner that the squire said he had half a mind to 
 swear the peace against him. Since the snow has 
 been off, more especially after the frosts got out 
 of the ground, we have kept a watchful eye on 
 the gentleman, in which we have found Jotham 
 useful.” 
 
 Harmaduke did not much like the associates 
 of Richard in this business ; still he knew them 
 to be cunning and ready in expedients ; and as 
 there was certainly something mysterious, not 
 only in the connection between the old hunters 
 and Edwards, but in what his cousin had just 
 related, he began to revolve the subject in his 
 own mind with more care. On reflection, he re- 
 membered various circumstances that tended to 
 corroborate these suspicions, and, as the whole 
 business favored one of his infirmities, he yielded 
 the more readily to their impression. The mind 
 of Judge Temple, at all times comprehensive, had 
 received, from his peculiar occupations, a bias to 
 look far into futurity, in his speculations on the 
 improvements that posterity were to make in his 
 lands. To his eye, where others saw nothing but 
 a wilderness, towns, manufactories, bridges, ca- 
 nals, mines, and all the other resources of an old 
 country, were constantly presenting themselves, 
 though his good sense suppressed, in some de- 
 gree, the exhibition of these expectations. 
 
 As the sheriff allowed his cousin full time to 
 reflect on what he had heard, the probability of 
 some pecuniary adventure being the connecting 
 
 link in the chain that brought Oliver Edwards in- 
 to the cabin of Leather-stocking, appeared to him 
 each moment to be stronger. But Marmaduko 
 was too much in the habit of examining both sides 
 of a subject, not to perceive the objections, and 
 he reasoned with himself aloud : 
 
 “ It cannot be so, or the youth would not be 
 driven so near the verge of poverty.” 
 
 “ What so likely to make a man dig for money, 
 as being poor ? ” cried the sheriff. 
 
 “ Besides, there is an elevation of character 
 about Oliver, that proceeds from education, which 
 would forbid so clandestine a proceeding.” 
 
 “ Could an ignorant fellow smelt ? ” continued 
 Richard. 
 
 “ Bess hints that he was reduced even to hia 
 last shilling, when we took him into our dwell- 
 ing.” 
 
 “ He had been buying tools. And would he 
 spend his last sixpence for a shot at a turkey t 
 had he not known where to get more ? ” 
 
 “ Can I have possibly been so long a dupe ! 
 His manner has been rude to me at times ; but I 
 attributed it to his conceiving himself injured, 
 and to his mistaking the forms of the world.” 
 
 “ Haven’t you been a dupe all your life, ’duke ? 
 and an’t what you call ignorance of forms deep 
 cunning, to conceal his real character ? ” 
 
 “ If he were bent on deception, he would have 
 concealed his knowledge, and passed with us for 
 an inferior man.” 
 
 “ He cannot. I could no more pass for a fool, 
 myself, that I could fly. Knowledge is not to be 
 concealed, like a candle under a bushel.” 
 
 “ Richard,” said the Judge, turning to his 
 cousin, “ there are many reasons against the truth 
 of thy conjectures ; but thou hast awakened sus- 
 picions which must be satisfied. But why are we 
 travelling here ? ” 
 
 “ Jotham, who has been much in the moun- 
 tain latterly, being kept there by me and Hiram, 
 has made a discovery, which he will not explain, he 
 says, for he is bound by an oath ; but the amount 
 is, that he knows where the ore lies, and he has 
 this day begun to dig. I would not consent to 
 the thing, ’duke, without your knowledge, for the 
 land is yours ; and now you know the reason of 
 our ride. I call this a countermine, ha ! ” 
 
 “ And where is the desirable spot ? ” asked 
 the Judge, with an air half comical, half serious. 
 
 “At hand ; and when we have visited that, 1 
 will show you one of the places that we havo 
 found within a week, where our hunters have been 
 amusing themselves for six months past.” 
 
 The gentlemen continued to discuss the mat- 
 ter, while their horses picked their way u^der tht 
 
AN UNEXPLAINED BUSINESS. 
 
 141 
 
 branches of the trees, and over the uneven ground 
 of the mountain. They soon arrived at the end 
 of their journey, where, in truth, they found Jo- 
 tham already buried to his neck in a hole that he 
 had been digging. 
 
 Marmaduke questioned the miner very closely, 
 as to his reasons for believing in the existence of 
 the precious metals near that particular spot ; but 
 the fellow maintained an obstinate mystery in his 
 answers. He asserted that he had the best of rea- 
 sons for what he did, and inquired of the Judge 
 what portion of the profits would fall to his own 
 share, in the event of success, with an earnest- 
 ness that proved his faith. After spending an 
 hour near the place, examining the stones, and 
 searching for the usual indications of the prox- 
 imity of ore, the Judge remounted, and suffered 
 his cousin to lead the way to the place where the 
 mysterious trio had been making their excava- 
 tion. 
 
 The spot chosen by Jotham was on the back 
 of the mountain that overhung the hut of Leath- 
 er-stocking, and the place selected by Natty and 
 his companions was on the other side of the same 
 hill, but above the road, and, of course, in an op- 
 posite direction to the route taken by the ladies in 
 their walk. 
 
 “We shall be safe in approaching the place 
 now,” said Richard, while they dismounted and 
 fastened their horses ; “ for I took a look with 
 the glass, and saw John and Leather-stocking, in 
 their canoe fishing, before we left home, and Oli- 
 ver is in the same pursuit ; but these may be 
 nothing but shams, to blind our eyes, so we will 
 be expeditious, for it would not be pleasant to be 
 caught here by them.” 
 
 “ Not on my own land ! ” said Marmaduke, ‘ 
 sternly. “ If it be as you suspect, I will know 
 their reasons for making this excavation.” 
 
 “ Mum,” said Richard, laying a finger on his 
 lip, and leading the way down a very difficult de- 
 scent to a sort of natural cavern, which was found 
 in the face of the rock, and was not unlike a fire- 
 place in shape. In front of this place lay a pile 
 of earth, which had evidently been taken from 
 the recess, and part of which was yet fresh. An 
 examination of the exterior of the cavern left the 
 Judge in doubt whether it was one of Nature’s 
 frolics that had thrown it into that shape, or 
 whether it had been wrought by the hands of man, 
 at some earlier period. But there could be no 
 doubt that the whole of the interior was of recent 
 formation, and the marks of the pick were still 
 visible, where the soft, lead-colored rock had op- 
 posed itself to the progress of the miners. The 
 whole formed an excavation of about twenty feet 
 
 in width, and nearly twice that distance in depth. 
 The height was much greater than was required 
 for the ordinary purposes of experiment ; but this 
 was evidently the effect of chance, as the roof of 
 the cavern was a natural stratum of rock, that 
 projected many feet beyond the base of the pile. 
 Immediately in front of the recess, or cave, was a 
 little terrace, partly formed by nature, and partly 
 by the earth that had been carelessly thrown 
 aside by the laborers. The mountain fell off pre- 
 cipitously in front of the terrace, and the approach 
 by its sides, under the ridge of the rocks, was 
 difficult and a little dangerous. The whole was 
 wild, rude, and apparently incomplete ; for, while 
 looking among the bushes, the sheriff found the 
 very implements that had been used in the work. 
 
 When the sheriff thought that his cousin had 
 examined the spot sufficiently, he asked, solemn- 
 ly: 
 
 “ Judge Temple, are you satisfied ? ” 
 
 “ Perfectly, that there is something mysteri- 
 ous and perplexing in this business. It is a se- 
 cret spot, and cunningly devised, Richard ; yet I 
 see no symptoms of ore.” 
 
 “ Do you expect, sir, to find gold and silver 
 lying like pebbles on the surface of the earth ?— 
 dollars and dimes ready coined to your hands ! 
 No, no — the treasure must be sought after to be 
 won. But let them mine ; I shall countermine.” 
 
 The Judge took an accurate survey of the 
 place, and noted in his memorandum-book such 
 marks as were necessary to find it again, in the 
 event of Richard’s absence ; when the cousins re- 
 turned to their horses. 
 
 On reaching the highway they separated, the 
 sheriff to summon twenty-four “good men and 
 true,” to attend as the inquest of the county, on 
 the succeeding Monday, when Marmaduke held 
 his stated court of “ common pleas and general 
 sessions of the peace,” and the Judge to return, 
 musing deeply on what he had seen and heard in 
 the course of the morning. 
 
 When the horse of the latter reached the spot 
 where the highway fell toward the valley, the eye 
 of Marmaduke rested, it is true, on the same scene 
 that had, ten minutes before, been so soothing to 
 the feelings of his daughter and her friend, as 
 they emerged from the forest ; but it rested in 
 vacancy. He threw the reigns to his sure-footed 
 beast, and suffered the animal to travel at his 
 own gait, while he soliloquized as follows ; 
 
 “There may be more in this than I at first 
 supposed. I have suffered my feeling to blind 
 my reason, in admitting an unknown youth in 
 this manner to my dwelling ; yet this is not th». 
 land of suspicion. I will have the Leather-stock 
 
142 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 mg before me, and, by a few direct questions, ex- 
 tract the trutl. from the simple old man.” 
 
 At that instant the Judge caught a glimpse of 
 the figures of Elizabeth and Louisa, who were 
 slowly descending the mountain, a short distance 
 before him. He put spurs to his horse, and rid- 
 ing up to them, dismounted, and drove his steed 
 along the narrow path. While the agitated 
 parent was listening to the vivid description that 
 his daughter gave of her recent danger, and her 
 unexpected escape, all thoughts of mines, vested 
 rights, and examinations, were absorbed in emo- 
 tion; and when the image of Natty again crossed 
 his recollection, it was not as a lawless and depre- 
 dating squatter, but as the preserver of his child. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 “The court awards it, and the law doth give it.” 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 Remarkable Pettibone, who had forgotten 
 the wound received by her pride, in contemplation 
 of the ease and comforts of her situation, and 
 who still retained her- station in the family of 
 Judge Temple, was dispatched to the humble 
 dwelling which Richard already styled “ The Rec- 
 tory,” in attendance on Louisa, who was soon 
 consigned to the arms of her father. 
 
 In the mean time, Marmaduke and his daugh- 
 ter were closeted for more than an hour, nor shall 
 we invade the sanctuary of parental love, by re- 
 lating the conversation. When the curtain rises 
 on the reader, the Judge is seen walking up and 
 down the apartment, with a tender melancholy in 
 his air, and his child reclining on a settee, with a 
 flushed cheek, and her dark eyes seeming to float 
 in crystals. 
 
 “It was a timely rescue ! it was, indeed, a 
 timely rescue, my child ! ” cried the Judge. 
 “ Then thou didst not desert thy friend, my noble 
 Bess ? ” 
 
 “ I believe I may as well take the credit of 
 fortitude,” said Elizabeth, “ though I much doubt 
 if flight would have availed me any thing, had I 
 even courage to execute such an intention. But 
 I thought not of the expedient.” 
 
 “ Of what didst thou think, love ? where did 
 thy thoughts dwell most, at that fearful mo- 
 ment ? ” 
 
 “The beast! the beast!” cried Elizabeth, 
 veiling her face with her hand : “ Oh ! I saw 
 nothing, I thought of nothing but the beast. I 
 tried to think of better things, but the horror 
 was too glaring, the dangei too much before my 
 eyes.” 
 
 “Well, well, thou art safe, and we vail con 
 verse no more on the unpleasant subject. I did 
 not think such an animal yet remained in our 
 forests ; but they will stray far from their haunts 
 when pressed by hunger, and — ” 
 
 A loud knocking at the door of the apartment 
 interrupted what he was about to utter, and he 
 bid the applicant enter. The door was opened 
 by Benjamin, who came in with a discontented 
 air, as if he felt that he had a communication to 
 make that would be out of season. 
 
 “Here is Squire Doolittle below, sir,” com- 
 menced the major-domo. “ He has been standing 
 off and on in the door-yard, for the matter of a 
 glass ; and he has sum’mat on his mind that he 
 wants to heave up, d’ye see ; but I tells him, says 
 I, man, would you be coming aboard with your 
 complaints, said I, when the Judge has gotten 
 his own child, as it were, out of the jaws of a 
 lion ? But damn the bit of manners has the fel- 
 low, any more than if he was one of them Guineas 
 down in the kitchen there; and so as he was 
 sheering nearer, every stretch he made toward 
 the house, I could do no better than to let you* 
 honor know that the chap was in the offing.” 
 
 “ He must have business of importance,” said 
 Marmaduke ; “ something in relation to his office, 
 most probably, as the court sits so shortly.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, you have it, sir,” cried Benjamin ; . 
 “ it’s sum’mat about a complaint that he has to 
 make of the old Leather-stocking, who, to my 
 judgment, is the better man of the two. It’s a 
 very good sort of a man is this Master Bumppo, 
 and he has a way with a spear, all the same as 
 if he was brought up at the bow oar of the cap- 
 tain’s barge, or was bom with a boat-hook in his 
 hand.” 
 
 “ Against the Leather-stocking ! ” cried Eliza- 
 beth, rising from her reclining posture. 
 
 “ Rest easy, my child ; some trifle, I pledge 
 you ; I believe I am already acquainted with its 
 import. Trust me, Bess, your champion shall be 
 safe in my care. Show Mr. Doolittle in, Benja- 
 min.” 
 
 Miss Temple appeared satisfied with this as- 
 surance, but fastened her dark eyes on the per- 
 son of the architect, who profited by the permis- 
 sion, and instantly made his appearance. 
 
 All the impatience of Hiram seemed to vanish 
 the instant he entered the apartment. After salu- 
 ting the Judge and his daughter, he took the 
 chair to which Marmaduke pointed, and sat for a 
 minute, composing his straight black hair, with a 
 gravity of demeanor that was intended to do 
 honor to his official station. At length he said : 
 
 “ It’s likely, from what I hear, that Miss Tem* 
 
THE MYSTERIES OF BUMPPO’S HUT. 
 
 143 
 
 pie had a narrow chance with the painters, on the 
 mountain.” 
 
 Marmaduke made a gentle inclination of his 
 head, by way of assent, but continued silent. 
 
 “I s’pose the law gives a bounty on the 
 scalps,” continued Hiram, “in which case the 
 Leather-stocking will make a gc/od job on’t.” 
 
 “ It shall be my care to see that he is reward- 
 ed,” returned the Judge. 
 
 “Yes, yes, I rather guess that nobody here- 
 abouts doubts the Judge’s generosity. Does he 
 know whether the sheriff has fairly made up 
 his mind to have a reading-desk or a deacon’s 
 pew under the pulpit ? ” 
 
 “ I have not heard my cousin speak on that 
 subject, lately,” replied Marmaduke. 
 
 “ I think it’s likely that we will have a pretty 
 dull court on’t, from what I can gather. I hear 
 that Jotham Riddel and the man who bought his 
 betterments, have agreed to leave their difference 
 to men, and I don’t think there’ll be more than 
 two civil cases in the calendar.” 
 
 “I am glad of it,” said the Judge ; “ nothing 
 gives me more pain than to see my settlers wast- 
 ing their time and substance in the unprofitable 
 struggles of the law. I hope it may prove true, 
 sir.” 
 
 “ I rather guess ’twill be left out to men,” 
 added Hiram, with an air equally balanced be- 
 tween doubt and assurance, but which Judge 
 Temple understood to mean certainty ; “ I some 
 think that I am appointed a referee in the case 
 myself ; Jotham as much as told me that he 
 should take me. The defendant, I guess, means 
 to take Captain Hollister, and we two have partly 
 agreed on Squire Jones for the third man.” 
 
 “ Are there any criminals to be tried ? ” asked 
 Marmaduke. 
 
 “There’s the counterfeiters,” returned the 
 magistrate ; “ as they were caught in the fact, I 
 think it likely that they’ll be indicted, in which 
 case it’s probable they’ll be tried.” 
 
 “ Certainly, sir, I had forgotten those men. 
 There are no more, I hope.” 
 
 “ Why, there is a threaten to come forrad with 
 an assault, that happened at the last independence 
 day; but I’m not sartain that the law’ll take hold 
 on’t. There was plaguey hard words passed, but 
 whether they struck or not I haven’t heard. 
 There’s some folks talk of a deer or two being 
 killed out of season, over on the west side of the 
 Patent, by some of the squatters on the ‘ Frac- 
 tions.’” 
 
 “Let a complaint be made, by all means,” 
 cried the Judge ; “ I am determined to see the law 
 executed to the letter, on all such depredators.” 
 
 “Why, yes, I thought the Judge was of that 
 mind ; I come partly on such a business my- 
 self.” 
 
 “You!” exclaimed Marmaduke, comprehend- 
 ing in an instant how completely he had been 
 caught by the other’s cunning ; “ and what have 
 you to say, sir ? ” 
 
 “I some think that Natty Bumppo has the 
 carcass of a deer in his hut at this moment, and 
 a considerable part of my business was to get a 
 search-warrant to examine.” 
 
 “You think, sir! do you know that the law 
 exacts an oath, before I can issue such a precept ? 
 The habitation of a citizen is not to be idly in- 
 vaded on light suspicion.” 
 
 “ I rather think I can swear to it myself,” re- 
 turned the immovable Hiram ; “ and Jotham is in 
 the street, and as good as ready to come in and 
 make oath to the same thing.” 
 
 “ Then issue the warrant thyself ; thou art a 
 magistrate, Mr. Doolittle; why trouble me with 
 the matter ? ” 
 
 “Why, seeing it’s the first complaint under 
 the law, and knowing the Judge set his heart on 
 the thing, I thought it best that the authority to 
 search should come from himself. Besides, as 
 I’m much in the woods, among the timber, I don’t 
 altogether like making an enemy of the Leather- 
 stocking. Now the Judge has a weight in the 
 county that puts him above fear.” 
 
 Miss Temple turned her face to the callous 
 architect, as she said : 
 
 “ And what has any honest person to dread 
 from so kind a man as Bumppo ? ” 
 
 “ Why, it’s as easy, miss, to pull a rifle-trigger 
 on a magistrate as on a painter. But if the 
 Judge don’t conclude to issue the warrant, I must 
 go home and make it out myself.” 
 
 “ I have not refused your application, sir,” 
 said Marmaduke, perceiving at once that his rep- 
 utation for impartiality was at stake ; “ go into 
 my office, Mr. Doolittle, where I will join you, and 
 sign the warrant.” 
 
 Judge Temple stopped the remonstrances 
 which Elizabeth was about to utter, after Hiram 
 had withdrawn, by laying his hand on her mouth, 
 and saying : 
 
 “ It is more terrific in sound than frightful in 
 reality, my child. I suppose that the Leather- 
 stocking has shot a deer, for the season is nearly 
 over, and you say that he was hunting with his 
 dogs when he came so timely to your assistance. 
 But it will be only to examine his cabin, and find 
 the animal, when you can pay the penalty out of 
 your own pocket, Bess. Nothing short of the 
 twelve dollars and a half will satisfy this harpy, 
 
144 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 I perceive ; and surely my reputation as a Judge 
 is worth that trifle.” 
 
 Elizabeth was a good deal pacified with this 
 assurance, and suffered her father to leave her, to 
 fulfil his promise to Hiram. 
 
 When Marmaduke left his office after exe- 
 cuting his disagreeable duty, he met Oliver 
 Edwards, walking up the gravelled walk in front 
 of the mansion-house, with great strides, and with 
 a face agitated by feeling. On seeing Judge Tem- 
 ple, the youth turned aside, and with a warmth 
 in his manner that was not often exhibited to 
 Marmaduke, he cried : 
 
 “ I congratulate you, sir ; from the bottom of 
 my soul, I congratulate you, Judge Temple. Oh! 
 it would have been too horrid to have recollected 
 for a moment ! I have just left the hut, where, 
 after showing me his scalps, old Natty told me of 
 the escape of the ladies, as the thing to be men- 
 tioned last. Indeed, indeed, sir, no words of 
 mine can express half of what I have felt” — the 
 youth paused a moment, as if suddenly recollect- 
 ing that he was overstepping prescribed limits, 
 and concluded with a good deal of embarrass- 
 ment— what I have felt at this danger to Miss 
 — Grant, and — and your daughter, sir.” 
 
 But the heart of Marmaduke was too much 
 softened to admit of his cavilling at trifles, and? 
 without regarding the confusion of the other, he 
 replied : 
 
 “I thank thee, thank thee, Oliver; as thou 
 sayest, it is almost too horrid to be remembered- 
 But come, let us hasten to Bess, for Louisa has 
 already gone to the rectory.” 
 
 The young man sprang forward, and, throwing 
 open a door, barely permitted the Judge to pre- 
 cede him, when he was in the presence of Eliza- 
 beth in a moment. 
 
 The cold distance that often crossed the de- 
 meanor of the heiress, in her intercourse with 
 Edwards, was now entirely banished, and two 
 hours were passed by the party, in the free, unem- 
 oarrassed, and confiding manner of old and 
 esteemed friends. Judge Temple had forgotten 
 the suspicions engendered during his morning’s 
 ride, and the youth and maiden conversed, 
 laughed, and were sad by turns, as impulse di- 
 rected. 
 
 At length Edwards, after repeating his inten- 
 tion to do so for the third time, left the mansion- 
 house to go to the rectory on a similar errand of 
 friendship. 
 
 During this short period, a scene was passing 
 at the hut that completely frustrated the benevo- 
 lent intentions of Judge Temple in favor of the 
 Leather stocking, and at once destroyed the 
 
 the short-lived harmony between the youth and 
 Marmaduke. 
 
 When Hiram Doolittle had obtained his search- 
 warrant, his first business was to procure a 
 proper officer to see it executed. The sheriff 
 was absent, summoning in person the grand in- 
 quest for the county ; the deputy, who resided in 
 the village, was riding on the same errand, in a 
 different part of the settlement ; and the regular 
 constable of the township had been selected for 
 his station from motives of charity, being lame of 
 a leg. Hiram intended to accompany the officer 
 as a spectator, but he felt no very strong desire to 
 bear the brunt of the battle. It was, however, 
 Saturday, and the sun was already turning the 
 shadows of the pines toward the east; on the 
 morrow the conscientious magistrate could not 
 engage in such an expedition at the peril of his 
 soul ; and long before Monday, the venison, and 
 all vestiges of the death of the deer, might be 
 secreted or destroyed. Happily, the lounging 
 form of Billy Kirby met his eye, and Hiram, at 
 all times fruitful in similar expedients, saw his 
 way clear at once. Jotham, who was associated 
 in the whole business, and who had left the moun- 
 tain in consequence of a summons from his coad- 
 jutor, but who failed, equally with Hiram, in the 
 unfortunate particular of nerve, was directed to 
 summon the wood-chopper to the dwelling of the 
 magistrate. 
 
 When Billy appeared, he was very kindly in- 
 vited to take the chair in which he had already 
 seated himself, and was treated in all respects as 
 if he were an equal. 
 
 “ Judge Temple has set his heart on putting 
 the deer law in force,” said Hiram, after the pre- 
 liminary civilities were over, “and a complaint 
 has been laid before him that a deer has been 
 killed. He has issued a search-warrant, and sent 
 for me to get somebody to execute it ” 
 
 Kirby, who had no idea of being excluded 
 from the deliberative part of any affair in which 
 he was engaged, drew up his bushy head in a re- 
 flecting attitude, and, after musing a moment) 
 replied by asking a few questions. 
 
 “ The sheriff is gone out of the way ? ” 
 
 “ Not to be found.” 
 
 “ And his deputy too ? ” 
 
 “ Both gone on the skirts of the Patent.” 
 
 “ But I saw the constable hobbling about town 
 an hour ago.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” said Hiram with a coaxing smile 
 and knowing nod, “ but this business wants a man 
 — not a cripple.” 
 
 “ Why,” said Billy, laughing, “ will the chap 
 make fight ? ” 
 
SERVING A SEARCH-WARRANT. 
 
 145 
 
 “ He’s a little quarrelsome at times, and thinks 
 he’s the best man in the country at rough and 
 tumble.” 
 
 “ I heard him brag once,” said Jotham, “ that 
 there wasn’t a man ’twixt the Mohawk Flats and 
 the Fcnnsylvany line that was his match at a 
 close hug.” 
 
 “ Did you ? ” exclaimed Kirby, raising his 
 huge frame in his seat, like a lion stretching in 
 his lair; “ I rather guess he never felt a Varmount- 
 er’s knuckles on his backbone. But who is the 
 chap ? ” 
 
 “ Why,” said Jotham, “ it’s — ” 
 
 “It’s ag’in law to tell,” interrupted Hiram, 
 “unless you’ll qualify to sarve. You’d be the 
 very man to take him, Bill ; and I’ll make out a 
 special deputation in a minute, when you will get 
 the fees.” 
 
 “ What’s the fees ? ” said Kirby, laying his 
 large hand on the leaves of a statute-book, that 
 Hiram had opened in order to give dignity to his 
 office, which he turned over, in his rough manner, 
 as if he were reflecting on a subject about which 
 he had, in truth, already decided ; “ will they pay 
 a man for a broken head ? ” 
 
 “They’ll be some thing handsome,” said 
 Hiram. 
 
 “ Damn the fees,” said Billy, again laughing 
 — “ does the fellow think he’s the best wrestler in 
 the county, though ? what’s his inches ? ” 
 
 “ He’s taller than you be,” said Jotham, “ and 
 one of the biggest — ” 
 
 Talkers, he was about to add, but the impa- 
 tience of Kirby interrupted him. The wood- 
 chopper had nothing fierce or even brutal in his 
 appearance ; the character of his expression was 
 that of good-natured vanity. It was evident he 
 prided himself on the powers of the physical 
 man, like all who have nothing better to boast 
 of ; and, stretching out his broad hand, with the 
 palm downward, he said, keeping his eyes fast- 
 ened on his own bones and sinews : 
 
 “Come, give us a touch of the book. I’ll 
 swear, and you’ll see that I’m a man to keep my 
 oath.” 
 
 Hiram did not give the wood-chopper time to 
 change his mind, but the oath was administered 
 without unnecessary delay. So soon as this pre- 
 liminary was completed, the three worthies left 
 the house, and proceeded by the nearest road 
 toward the hut. They had reached the bank of 
 the lake, and were diverging from the route of 
 the highway, before Kirby recollected that he was 
 now entitled to the privilege of the initiated, and 
 repeated his question as to the name of the 
 offender. 
 
 49 
 
 “ Which way, which way, squire ? ” exclaimed 
 the hardy wood- chopper ; “ I thought it was to 
 search a house that you wanted me, not the 
 woods. There is nobody lives on this side of the 
 lake, for six miles, unless you count the Leather- 
 stocking and old John for settlers. Come, 
 tell me the chap’s name, and I warrant me that 
 I lead you to his clearing by a straighter path 
 than this, for I know every sapling that grows 
 within two miles of Templetown.” 
 
 “ This is the way,” said Hiram, pointing for- 
 ward and quickening his step, as if apprehensive 
 that Kirby would desert, “and Bumppo is the 
 man.” 
 
 Kirby stopped short, and looked from one of 
 his companions to the other in astonishment. He 
 then burst into a loud laugh, and cried : 
 
 “Who? Leather-stocking! he may brag of 
 his aim and his rifle, for he has the best of both, 
 as I will own myself, for sin’ he shot the pigeon I 
 knock under to him ; but for a wrestle ! why, I 
 would take the creatur’ between my finger and 
 thumb, and tie him in a bow-knot around my 
 neck for a Barcelony. The man is seventy, and 
 was never any thing particular for strength.” 
 
 “ He’s a deceiving man,” said Hiram, “ like 
 all the hunters : he is stronger than he seems ; be- 
 sides, he has his rifle.” 
 
 “That for his rifle!” cried Billy; “he’d no 
 more hurt me with his rifle than he’d fly. He is 
 a harmless creater, and I must say that I think he 
 has as good right to kill deer as any man on the 
 Patent. ' It’s his main support, and this is a free 
 country, where a man i3 privileged to follow any 
 calling he likes.” 
 
 “According to that doctrine,” said Jotham, 
 “ anybody may shoot a deer.” 
 
 “ This is the man’s calling, I tell you,” re- 
 turned Kirby, “ and the law was never made for 
 such as he.” 
 
 “ The law was made for all,” observed Hiram, 
 who began to think that the danger was likely to 
 fall to his own share, notwithstanding his manage- 
 ment ; “ and the law is particular in noticing par- 
 jury.” 
 
 “ See here, Squire Doolittle,” said the reckless 
 wood-chopper ; “ I don’t care the valie of a beet- 
 lering for you and your parjury too. But as I 
 have come so far, I’ll go down and have a talk 
 with the old man, and maybe we’ll fry a steak of 
 the deer together.” 
 
 “Well, if you can get in peaceably, so much 
 the better,” said the magistrate. “ To my notion, 
 strife is very unpopular ; I prefar, at all times, 
 clever conduct to an ugly temper.” 
 
 As the whole party moved at a great pace 
 
146 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 they scon reached the hut, where Hiram thought 
 it prudent to halt on the outside of the top of the 
 fallen pine, which formed a chevaux-de-frise, to 
 defend the approach to the fortress, on the side 
 next the village. The delay was little relished 
 by Kirby, who clapped his hands to his mouth, 
 and gave a loud halloo that brought the dogs out 
 of their kennel, and, almost at the same instant, 
 the scantily-covered head of Natty from the 
 door. 
 
 “ Lie down, old fool,” cried the hunter ; “ do 
 you think there’s more painters about you ? ” 
 
 “ Ha ! Leather-stocking, I’ve an arrand with 
 you,” cried Kirby; “here’s the good people of 
 the State have been writing you a small letter, and 
 they’ve hired me to ride post.” 
 
 “ What would you have with me, Billy 
 Kirby ? ” said Natty, stepping across his thresh- 
 old, and raising his hand over his eyes to screen 
 them from the rays of the setting sun, while he 
 took a survey of his visitor. “ I’ve no land to 
 clear ; and Heaven knows I would set out six trees 
 afore I would cut down one. — Down, Hector, I 
 say ; into your kennel with ye.” 
 
 “Would you, old boy?” roared Billy; “then 
 so much the better for me. But I must do my 
 arrand. Here’s a letter for you, Leather-stocking. 
 If you can read it, it’s all well, and, if you can’t, 
 here’s Squire Doolittle at hand, to let you know 
 what it means. It seems you mistook the twen- 
 tieth of July for the first of August, that’s all.” 
 
 By this time Natty had discovered the lank 
 person of Hiram, drawn up under the cover of a 
 high stump ; and all that was complacent in his 
 manner instantly gave way to marked distrust and 
 dissatisfaction. He placed his head within the 
 door of his hut, and said a few words in an under- 
 tone, when he again appeared, and continued : 
 
 “ I’ve nothing for ye ; so away, afore the Evil 
 One tempts me to do you harm. I owe you no 
 spite, Billy Kirby, and what for should you trouble 
 an old man, who has done you no harm ? ” 
 
 Kirby advanced through the top of the pine, 
 to within a few feet of the hunter, where he seated 
 himself on the end of a log with great composure, 
 and began to examine the nose of Hector, with 
 whom he was familiar, from their frequently meet- 
 ing in the woods, where he sometimes fed the dog 
 from his own basket of provisions. 
 
 “You’ve outshot me, and I’m not ashamed to 
 say it,” said the wood-chopper; “ but I don’t owe 
 you a grudge for that, Natty ! though it seems 
 that you’ve shot once too often, for the story goes 
 that you’ve killed a buck.” 
 
 “ I’ve fired but twice to-day, and both times 
 at the painters,” returned the Leather-stocking ; 
 
 “ see, here are the scalps ! I was just going i« 
 with them to the Judge’s to ask the bounty.” 
 
 While Natty was speaking, he tossed the ears 
 to Kirby, who continued playing with them, with 
 a careless air, holding them to the dogs, and laugh- 
 ing at their movements when they scented the un- 
 usual game. 
 
 But Hiram, emboldened by the advance of the 
 deputed constable, now ventured to approach 
 also, and took up the discourse with the air of 
 authority that became his commission. His first 
 measure was to read the warrant aloud, taking 
 care to give due emphasis to the most material 
 parts, and concluding with the name of the Judge 
 in very audible and distinct tones. 
 
 “ Did Marmaduke Temple put his name to that 
 bit of paper?” said Natty, shaking his head; 
 “ well, well, that man loves the new ways, and his 
 betterments, and his lands, afore his own flesh and 
 blood. But I won’t mistrust the gal ; she has an 
 eye like a full-grown buck ! poor thing, she didn’t 
 choose her father, and can’t help it. I know but 
 little of the law, Mr. Doolittle ; what is to be done, 
 now you’ve read your commission ? ” 
 
 “ Oh ! it’s nothing but form, Natty,” said 
 Hiram, endeavoring to assume a friendly aspect. 
 “ Let’s go in, and talk the thing over in reason ; 
 I dare to say that the money can be easily found, 
 and I partly conclude, from what passed, that 
 Judge Temple will pay it himself.” 
 
 The old hunter had kept a keen eye on the 
 movements of his three visitors, from the begin- 
 ning, and had maintained his position, just with- 
 out the threshold of his cabin, with a determined, 
 manner, that showed he was not to be easily 
 driven from his post. When Hiram drew nigher, 
 as if expecting his proposition would be ac- 
 cepted, Natty lifted his hand, and motioned for 
 him to retreat. 
 
 “ Haven’t I told you more than once, not to 
 tempt me ? ” he said. “ I trouble no man ; why 
 can’t the law leave me to myself? Go back — go 
 back, and tell your Judge that he may keep his 
 bounty ; but I won’t have his wasty ways brought 
 into my hut.” 
 
 This offer, however, instead of appeasing the 
 curiosity of Hiram, seemed to inflame it the more ; 
 while Kirby cried : 
 
 “Well, that’s fair, squire; he forgives the 
 county his demand, and thqj county should for- 
 give him the fine ; it’s what I call an even trade, 
 and should be concluded on the spot. I like 
 quick dealings, and what’s fair ’twixt man and 
 man.” 
 
 “ I demand entrance into this house,” said 
 Hiram, summoning all the dignity he could mus- 
 
MR. EDWARDS AND THE YOUNG LAWYER. 
 
 ter to liia assistance, “ in the name of the people ; 
 and by virtue of this warrant, and of my office, 
 and with this peace-officer.” 
 
 “ Stand back, stand back, squire, and don’t 
 tempt me,” said' the Leather-stocking, motioning 
 for him to retire, with great earnestness. 
 
 “ Stop us at your peril,” continued Hiram. 
 “ Billy ! Jotham ! close up — I want testimony.” 
 
 Hiram had mistaken the mild but determined 
 air of Natty for submission, and had already put 
 his foot on the threshold to enter, when he was 
 seized unexpectedly by his shoulders, and hurled 
 over the little bank toward the lake, to the dis- 
 tance of twenty feet. The suddenness of the 
 movement, and the unexpected display of strength 
 on the part of Natty, created a momentary as- 
 tonishment in his invaders, that silenced all 
 noises ; but at the next instant Billy Kirby gave 
 vent to his mirth in peals of laughter, that he 
 seemed to heave up from his very soul. 
 
 “Well done, old stub!” he shouted: “the 
 squire know’d you better than I did. Come, 
 come, here’s a green spot ; take it out like men, 
 while Jotham and I see fair play.” 
 
 “ William Kirby, I order you to do your duty,” 
 cried Hiram, from under the bank ; “ seize that 
 man ; I order you to seize him in the name of 
 the people.” 
 
 But the Leather-stocking now assumed a 
 more threatening attitude ; his rifle was in his 
 hand, and its muzzle was directed toward the 
 wood- chopper. 
 
 “ Stand off, I bid ye,” said Natty ; “ you know 
 my aim, Billy Kirby ; I don’t crave your blood, 
 but mine and yourn both shall turn this green 
 grass red, afore you put foot into the hut.” 
 
 While the affair appeared trifling, the wood- 
 chopper seemed disposed to take sides with the 
 weake r party ; but, when the fire-arms were in- 
 troduced, his manner very sensibly changed. He 
 raised his large frame from the log, and, facing 
 the hunter with an open front, he replied : 
 
 “ I didn’t come here as your enemy, Leather- 
 stocking ; but I don’t value the hollow piece of 
 iron in your hand so much as a broken axe-helve ; 
 so, squire, say the word, and keep within the law, 
 and we’ll soon see who’s the best man of the two.” 
 
 But no magistrate was to be seen ! The in- 
 stant the rifle was produced Hiram and Jotham 
 vanished ; and when the wood-chopper bent his 
 eyes about him in surprise at receiving no an- 
 swer, he discovered their retreating figures mov- 
 ing toward the village at a rate that sufficiently 
 indicated that they had not only calculated the 
 velocity of a rifle-bullet, but also its probable 
 range. 
 
 m 
 
 “ You’ve scared the creaters off,” said Kirby, 
 with great contempt expressed on his broad feat- 
 ures ; “ but you are not going to scare me ; so, 
 Mr. Bumppo, down with your gun, or there’ll be 
 trouble ’twixt us,” 
 
 Natty dropped his rifle, and replied : 
 
 “ I wish you no harm, Billy Kirby ; but I leave 
 it to yourself, whether an old man’s hut is to be 
 run down by such varmint. I won’t deny the 
 buck to you, Billy, and you may take the skin in, 
 if you please, and show it as testimony. The 
 bounty will pay the fine, and that ought to satisfy 
 any man.” 
 
 “ ’Twill, old boy, ’twill,” cried Kirby, every 
 shade of displeasure vanishing from his open 
 brow at the peace-offering ; “ throw out the hide, 
 and that shall satisfy the law.” 
 
 Natty entered the hut, and soon reappeared, 
 bringing with him the desired testimonial ; and 
 the wood-chopper departed, as thoroughly recon- 
 ciled to the hunter as if nothing had happened. 
 As he paced along the margin of the lake he 
 would burst into frequent fits of laughter, while 
 he recollected the summerset of Hiram ; and, on 
 the whole, he thought the affair a very capital 
 joke. 
 
 Long before Billy reached the village, how- 
 ever, the news of his danger, and of Natty’s dis- 
 respect of the law, and of Hiram’s discomfiture, 
 were in circulation. A good deal was said about 
 sending for the sheriff; some hints were given 
 about calling out the posse comitatus to avenge 
 the insulted laws ; and many of the citizens were 
 collected, deliberating how to proceed. The ar- 
 rival of Billy with the skin, by removing all 
 grounds for a search, changed the complexion of 
 things materially. Nothing now remained but to 
 collect the fine, and assert the dignity of the 
 people ; all of which, it was unanimously agreed, 
 could be done as well on the succeeding Monday 
 as on Saturday night — a time kept sacred by a 
 large portion of the settlers. Accordingly, all 
 further proceedings were suspended for six-and- 
 thirty hours. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 “ And dar’st thou then 
 To heard the lion in his den, 
 
 The Douglas in his hall ? ” 
 
 Mabmion. 
 
 The commotion was just subsiding, and the 
 inhabitants of the village had begun to disperse 
 from the little groups they had formed, each re- 
 tiring to his own home, and closing his door after 
 
148 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 him, with the grave air of a man who consulted 
 public feeling in his exterior deportment, when 
 Oliver Edwards, on his return from the dwelling 
 of Mr. Grant, encountered the young lawyer, who 
 is known to the reader as Mr. Lippet. There was 
 very little similarity in the manners or opinions of 
 the two ; but as they both belonged to the more 
 intelligent class of a very small community, they 
 were, of course, known to each other, and, as 
 their meeting was at a point where silence would 
 have been rudeness, the following conversation 
 was the result of their interview : 
 
 “ A fine evening, Mr. Edwards,” commenced 
 the lawyer, whose disinclination to the dialogue 
 was, to say the least, very doubtful ; “ we want 
 rain sadly ; that’s the worst of this climate of 
 ours, it’s either a drought or a deluge. It’s like- 
 ly you’ve been used to a more equal tempera- 
 ture ? ” 
 
 “ I am a native of this State,” returned Ed- 
 wards, coldly. 
 
 “ Well, I’ve often heard that point disputed ; 
 but it’s so easy to get a man naturalized, that it’s 
 of little consequence where he was born. I won- 
 der what course the Judge means to take in this 
 business of Natty Bumppo ! ” 
 
 “ Of Natty Bumppo ! ” echoed Edwards ; “ to 
 what do you allude, sir ? ” 
 
 “ Haven’t you heard ! ” exclaimed the other, 
 with a look of surprise, so naturally assumed as 
 completely to deceive his auditor ; “ it may turn 
 out an ugly business. It seems that the old man 
 has been out in the hills, and has shot a buck 
 this morning, and that, you know, is a criminal 
 matter in the eyes of Judge Temple.” 
 
 « Oh ! he has, has he ? ” said Edwards, avert- 
 ing his face to conceal the color that collected in 
 his sunburnt cheek. “Well, if that be all, he 
 must even pay the fine.” 
 
 “ It’s five pound currency,” said the lawyer ; 
 “ could Natty muster so much money at once ? ” 
 
 “ Could he ! ” cried the youth. “ I am not 
 rich, Mr. Lippet ; far from it — I am poor, and I 
 have been hoarding my salary for a purpose that 
 lies near my heart; but, before that old man 
 should lie one hour in a jail, I would spend the 
 last cent to prevent it. Besides, he has killed 
 two panthers, and the bounty will discharge the 
 fine many times over.” 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” said the lawyer, rubbing his hands 
 together, with an expression of pleasure that had 
 no artifice about it ; “ we shall make it out ; I 
 see plainly we shall make it out.” 
 
 “Make what out, sir? I must beg an ex- 
 planation.” 
 
 “ Why, killing the buck is but a small matter 
 
 compared to what took place this afternoon,” con- 
 tinued Mr. Lippet, with a confidential and friend- 
 ly air, that insensibly won upon the youth, little 
 as he liked the man. “ It seems that a complaint 
 was made of the fact, and a suspicion that there 
 was venison in the hut was sworn to, all which 
 is provided for in the statute, when Judge Tem- 
 ple granted the search-warrant — ” 
 
 “ A search-warrant ! ” echoed Edwards, in a 
 voice of horror, and with a face that should have 
 been again averted to conceal its paleness ; “ and 
 how much did they discover ? What did they 
 see ? ” 
 
 “ They saw old Bumppo’s rifle ; and that is a 
 sight which will quiet most men’s curiosity in the 
 woods.” 
 
 “ Did they ! did they ! ” shouted Edwards, 
 bursting into a convulsive laugh; “so the old 
 hero beat them back ! — he beat them back ! did 
 he ? ” 
 
 The lawyer fastened his eyes in astonishment 
 on the youth, but, as his wonder gave way to the 
 thoughts that were commonly uppermost in hi3 
 mind, he replied : 
 
 “ It’s no laughing matter, let me tell you, sir ; 
 the forty dollars of bounty, and your six months 
 of salary, will be much reduced before you can 
 get the matter fairly settled. Assaulting a magis- 
 trate in the execution of his duty, and menacing 
 a constable with fire-arms at the same time, is a 
 pretty serious affair, and is punishable with both 
 fine and imprisonment.” 
 
 “ Imprisonment ! ” repeated Oliver ; “imprison 
 the Leather-stocking ! no, no, sir ; it would bring 
 the old man to his grave. They shall never im- 
 prison the Leather-stocking.” 
 
 “ Well, Mr. Edwards,” said Lippet, dropping 
 all reserve from his manner, “ you are called a 
 curious man ; but if you can tell me how a jury 
 is to be prevented from finding a verdict of guilty, 
 if this case comes fairly before them, and the 
 proof is clear, I shall acknowledge that you know 
 more law than I do, who have had a license in my 
 pocket for three years.” 
 
 By this time the reason of Edwards was get- 
 ting the ascendency of his feelings, and, as he be- 
 gan to see the real difficulties of the case, he list- 
 ened more readily to the conversation of the law- 
 yer. The ungovernable emotion that escaped the 
 youth, in the first moments of his surprise, entirely 
 passed away ; and, although it was still evident 
 that he continued to be much agitated by what he 
 had heard, he succeeded in yielding forced attcn- 
 tion to the advice which the other uttered. 
 
 Notwithstanding the confused state of his 
 mind, Oliver soon discovered that most of the ex 
 
OLIVER’S INTERVIEW WITH MISS TEMPLE. 
 
 149 
 
 pedients of the lawyer were grounded in cunning, 
 and plana that required a time to execute them 
 that neither suited his disposition nor his necessi- 
 ties. After, however, giving Mr. Lippet to under- 
 stand that he retained him in the event of a trial, 
 an assurance that at once satisfied the lawyer, 
 they parted, one taking his course with a deliber- 
 ate tread, in the direction of the little building 
 that had a wooden sign over its door, with “ Ches- 
 ter Lippet, Attorney-at-law,” painted on it ; and 
 the other pacing over the ground with enormous 
 strides toward the mansion-house. We shall take 
 leave of the attorney for the present, and direct 
 the attention of the reader to his client. 
 
 When Edwards entered the hall, whose enor- 
 mous doors were opened to the passage of the air 
 of a mild evening, he found Benjamin engaged in 
 some of his domestic avocations, and in a hurried 
 voice inquired where Judge Temple was to be 
 found. 
 
 “ Why, the Judge has stept into his office, 
 with that master carpenter, Mister Doolittle ; but 
 Miss Lizzy is in that there parlor. I say, Master 
 Oliver, we’d like to have had a bad job of that 
 panther, or painter’s work — some calls it one, and 
 some calls it t’other — but I know little of the 
 beast, seeing that it is not of British growth. I 
 said as much as that it was in the hills the last 
 winter ; for I heard it moaning on the lake shore 
 one evening in the fall, when I was pulling down 
 from the fishing-point in the skiff. Had the ani- 
 mal come into open water, where a man could see 
 where and how to work his vessel, I would have 
 engaged the thing myself; but looking aloft 
 among the trees is all the same to me as standing 
 on the deck of one ship, and looking at another 
 vessel’s tops. I never can tell one rope from an- 
 other — ” 
 
 “Well, well,” interrupted Edwards; “I must 
 see Miss Temple.” 
 
 “ And you shall see her, sir,” said the steward ; 
 “ she’s in this here room. Lord, Master Edwards, 
 what a loss she’d have been to the Judge! 
 Dam’me if I know where he would have gotten 
 such another daughter ; that is, full grown, d’ye 
 see. I say, sir, this Master Bumppo is a worthy 
 man. and seems to have a handy way with him, 
 with fire-arms and boat-hooks. I’m his friend, 
 Master Oliver, and he and you may both set me 
 down as the same.” 
 
 “We may want your friendship, my worthy 
 fellow,” cried Edwards, squeezing his hand con- 
 vulsively ; “ we may want your friendship, in 
 which case you shall know it.” 
 
 Without waiting to hear the earnest reply 
 that Benjamin meditated, the youth extricated 
 
 himself from the vigorous grasp of the steward, 
 and entered the parlor. 
 
 Elizabeth was alone, and still reclining on the 
 sofa, where we last left her. A hand, which ex- 
 ceeded all that the ingenuity of art could model, 
 in shape and color, veiled her eyes ; and the maid- 
 en was sitting as if in deep communion "with 
 herself. Struck by the attitude and loveliness 
 of the form that met his eye, the young man 
 checked his impatience, and approached her with 
 respect and caution. 
 
 “ Miss Temple — Miss Temple,” he said, “ I 
 hope I do not intrude ; but I am anxious for an 
 interview, if it be only for a moment.” 
 
 Elizabeth raised her face, and exhibited her 
 dark eyes swimming in moisture. 
 
 “ Is it you, Edwards ? ” she said, with a sweet- 
 ness in her voice, and a softness in her air, that 
 she often used to her father, but which, from its 
 novelty to himself, thrilled on every nerve of the 
 youth ; “ how left you our poor Louisa ? ” 
 
 “ She is with her father, happy and grateful,” 
 said Oliver. “ I never witnessed more feeling 
 than she manifested, when I ventured to express 
 my pleasure at her escape. Miss Temple, when 
 I first heard of your horrid situation, my feelings 
 were too powerful for utterance ; and I did not 
 properly find my tongue, until the walk to Mr. 
 Grant’s had given me time to collect myself. I 
 believe — I do believe, I acquitted myself better 
 there, for Miss Grant even wept at my silly 
 speeches.” 
 
 For a moment Elizabeth did not reply, but 
 again veiled her eyes with her hand. The feeling 
 that caused the action, however, soon passed 
 away, and, raising her face again to his gaze, she 
 continued, with a smile : 
 
 “ Your friend, the Leather-stocking, has now 
 become my friend, Edwards ; I have been think- 
 ing how I can best serve him ; perhaps you, who 
 know his habits and his wants so well, can tell 
 me — ” 
 
 “ I can,” cried the youth, with an impetuosity 
 that startled his companion — “I can, and may 
 Heaven reward you for the wish. Natty has been 
 so imprudent as to forget the law, and has this 
 day killed a deer. Nay, I believe I must share 
 in the crime and the penalty, for I was an accom- 
 plice throughout. A complaint has been made 
 to your father, and he has granted a search — ” 
 
 “ I know it all,” interrupted Elizabeth ; “ I 
 know it all. The forms of the law must be com- 
 plied with, however ; the search must be made, 
 the deer found, and the penalty paid. But I 
 must retort your own question. Have you lived 
 so long in our family not to know us ? Look at 
 
150 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 me, Oliver Edwards. Do I appear like one who 
 would permit the man that has just saved her life 
 to linger in a jail for so small a sum as this fine ? 
 No, no, sir ; my father is a judge, but he is a 
 man and a Christian. It is all understood, and 
 no harm shall follow.” 
 
 * “ What a load of apprehension do your dec- 
 
 larations remove ! ” exclaimed Edwards. “ He 
 shall not be disturbed again! your father will 
 protect him ! I have your assurance, Miss Temple } 
 that he will, and I must believe it.” 
 
 “ You may have his own, Mr. Edwards,” re- 
 turned Elizabeth, “for here he comes to make it.” 
 
 But the appearance of Marmaduke, who en- 
 tered the apartment, contradicted the flattering 
 anticipations of his daughter. His brow was 
 contracted, and his manner disturbed. Neither 
 Elizabeth nor the youth spoke ; but the Judge 
 was allowed to pace once or twice across the 
 room without interruption, when he cried : 
 
 “ Our plans are defeated, girl ; the obstinacy 
 of the Leather-stocking has brought down the in- 
 dignation of the law on his head, and it is now 
 out of my power to avert it.” 
 
 “ How ? in what manner ? ” cried Elizabeth ; 
 “ the fine is nothing ; surely — ” 
 
 “ I did not — I could not anticipate that an 
 old, a friendless man like him, would dare to op- 
 pose the officers of justice,” interrupted the Judge ; 
 “I supposed that he would submit to the search, 
 when the fine could have been paid, and the law 
 would have been appeased ; but now he will have 
 to meet its rigor.” 
 
 “ And what must the punishment be, sir ? ” 
 asked Edwards, struggling to speak with firm- 
 ness. 
 
 Marmaduke turned quickly to the spot where 
 the youth had withdrawn, and exclaimed : 
 
 “ You here ! I did not observe you. I know 
 not what it will be, sir ; it is not usual for a judge 
 to decide until he has heard the testimony, and 
 the jury have convicted. Of one thing, however, 
 you may be assured, Mr. Edwards ; it shall be 
 whatever the law demands, notwithstanding any 
 momentary weakness I may have exhibited, be- 
 cause the luckless man has been of such eminent 
 service to my daughter.” 
 
 “ No one, I believe, doubts the sense of jus- 
 tice which Judge Temple entertains ! ” returned 
 Edwards, bitterly. “ But let us converse calmly, 
 sir. Will not the years, the habits, nay, the ig- 
 norance of my old friend, avail him any thing 
 against this charge ? ” 
 
 “ Ought they ? They may extenuate, but can 
 they acquit ? Would any society be tolerable, 
 voung man, where the ministers of justice are to 
 
 be opposed by men armed with rides ? Is it for 
 this that I have tamed the wilderness ? ” 
 
 “Had you tamed the beasts that so lately 
 threatened the life of Miss Temple, sir, your ar- 
 guments would apply better.” 
 
 “ Edwards ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth — 
 
 “ Peace, my child,” interrupted the father ; 
 “ the youth is unjust ; but I have not given him 
 cause. I overlook thy remark, Oliver, for I know 
 thee to be the friend of Natty, and zeal in his be- 
 half has overcome thy discretion.” 
 
 “ Yes, he is my friend,” cried Edwards, “ and 
 I glory in the title. He is simple, unlettered, 
 even ignorant ; prejudiced, perhaps, though I feel 
 that his opinion of the world is too true ; but 
 he has a heart, Judge Temple, that would atone 
 for a thousand faults ; he knows his friends, and 
 never deserts them, even if it be his dog.” 
 
 “ This is a good character, Mr. Edwards,” re- 
 turned Marmaduke, mildly ; “ but I have never 
 been so fortunate as to secure his esteem, for to 
 me he has been uniformly repulsive ; yet I have 
 endured it, as an old man’s whim. However, 
 when he appears before me, as his judge, he shall 
 find that his former conduct shall not aggravate, 
 any more than his recent services shall extenuate, 
 his crime.” 
 
 “ Crime ! ” echoed Edwards ; “ is it a crime to 
 drive a prying miscreant from his door ? Crime ! 
 Oh, no, sir ; if there be a criminal involved in 
 this affair, it is not he.” 
 
 “ And who may it be, sir ? ” asked Judge Tem- 
 ple, facing the agitated youth, his features settled 
 to their usual composure. 
 
 This appeal was more than the young man 
 could bear. Hitherto he had been deeply agi- 
 tated by his emotions ; but now the volcano 
 burst its boundaries. 
 
 “ Who ! and this to me ! ” he cried ; “ ask 
 your own conscience, Judge Temple. Walk to 
 that door, sir, and look out upon the valley, that 
 placid lake, and those dusky mountains, and say 
 to your own heart, if heart you have, whence 
 came these riches, this vale, those hills, and why 
 am I their owner ? I should think, sir, that the 
 appearance of Mohegan and the Leather-stocking, 
 stalking through the country, impoverished and 
 forlorn, would wither your sight.” 
 
 Marmaduke heard this burst of passion, at, 
 first, with deep amazement : but when the youth 
 had ended, he beckoned to his impatient daughter 
 for silence, and replied : 
 
 “ Oliver Edwards, thou forgettest in whose 
 presence thou standest. I have heard, young 
 man, that thou claimest descent from the native 
 owners of the soil ; but surely thy education has 
 
ARREST OF COUNTERFEITERS. 
 
 151 
 
 been given thee to no effect, if it has not taught 
 thee the validity of the claims that have trans- 
 ferred the title to the whites. These lands are 
 mine by the very grants of thy ancestry, if thou 
 art so descended ; and I appeal to Heaven for a 
 testimony of the uses I have put them to. After 
 this language, we must separate. I have too long 
 sheltered thee in my dwelling ; but the time has 
 arrived when thou must quit it. Come to my 
 office, and I will discharge the debt I owe thee. 
 Neither shall thy present intemperate language 
 mar thy future fortunes, if thou wilt hearken to 
 the advice of one who is by many years thy sen- 
 ior.” 
 
 The ungovernable feeling that caused the vio- 
 lence of the youth had passed away, and he stood 
 gazing after the retiring figure of Marmaduke, with 
 a vacancy in his eye that denoted the absence of 
 his mind. At length he recollected himself, and, 
 turning his head slowly around the apartment, he 
 beheld Elizabeth, still seated on the sofa, but with 
 her head dropped on her bosom, and her face 
 again concealed by her hands. 
 
 “ Miss Temple,” he said — all violence had left 
 his manner — “ Miss Temple — I have forgotten my- 
 self — forgotten you. You have heard what your 
 father has decreed, and this night I leave here. 
 With you, at least, I would part in amity.” 
 
 Elizabeth slowly raised her face, across which 
 a momentary expression of sadness stole; but 
 as she left her seat, her dark eyes lighted with 
 their usual fire, her cheek flushed to burning, 
 and her whole air seemed to belong to another 
 nature. 
 
 “ I forgive you, Edwards, and my father will 
 forgive you,” she said, when she reached the door. 
 “ You do not know us, but the time may come 
 when your opinions shall change — ” 
 
 “ Of you ! never ! ” interrupted the youth ; 
 
 « j »» 
 
 “ I would speak, sir, and not listen. There is 
 something in this affair that I do not comprehend ; 
 but tell the Leather-stocking he has friends as 
 well as judges in us. Do not let the old man ex- 
 perience unnecessary uneasiness at this rupture. 
 It is impossible that you could increase his claims 
 here ; neither shall they be diminished by any- 
 thing you have said. Mr. Edwards, I wish you 
 happiness, and warmer friends.” 
 
 The youth would have spoken, but she van- 
 ished from the door so rapidly, that when he 
 reached the hall her form was nowhere to be 
 seen. He paused a moment, in stupor, and then, 
 rushing from the house, instead of following Mar- 
 maduke to his “ office,” he took his way directly 
 for the cabin of the hunters. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII 
 
 “ Who measured earth, described the starry spheres, 
 
 And traced the long records of lunar years.” 
 
 Pope. 
 
 Richard did not return from the exercise of 
 his official duties until late in the evening of the 
 following day. It had been one portion of his 
 business to superintend the arrest of part of a 
 gang of counterfeiters, that had, even at that 
 early period, buried themselves in the woods, to 
 manufacture their base coin, which they afterward 
 circulated from one end of the Union to the other. 
 The expedition had been completely successful, 
 and about midnight the sheriff entered the village, 
 at the head of a posse of deputies and constables, 
 in the centre of whom rode, pinioned, four of the 
 malefactors. At the gate of the mansion-house 
 they separated, Mr. Jones directing his assistants 
 to proceed with their charge to the county jail, 
 while he pursued his own way up the gravel walk, 
 with the kind of self-satisfaction that a man of 
 his organization would feel, who had really, for 
 once, done a very clever thing. 
 
 “ Holla ! Aggy ! ” shouted the sheriff, when he 
 reached the door ; “ where are you, you black dog ? 
 will you keep me here in the dark all night ? 
 Holla ! Aggy ! Brave ! Brave ! hoy, hoy — where 
 have you got to, Brave ? Off his watch ! Every- 
 body is asleep but myself ! poor I must keep my 
 eyes open, that others may sleep in safety. 
 Brave ! Brave ! Well, I will say this for the dog, 
 lazy as he’s grown, that it is the first time I ever 
 knew him let any one come to the door after dark, 
 without having a smell to know whether it was an 
 honest man or not. He could tell by his nose, 
 almost as well as I could myself by looking at 
 them. Holla ! you Agamemnon ! where are you ? 
 Oh ! here comes the dog at last.” 
 
 By this time the sheriff had dismounted, and 
 observed a form, which he supposed to be that 
 of Brave, slowly creeping out of the kennel ; when, 
 to his astonishment, it reared itself on two legs 
 instead of four, and he was able to distinguish, 
 by the starlight, the curly head and dark visage 
 of the negro. 
 
 “ Ha ! what the devil are you doing there, you 
 black rascal ? ” he cried; “is it not hot enough 
 for your Guinea blood in the house, this warm 
 night, but you must drive out the poor dog and 
 sleep in his straw ? ” 
 
 By this time the boy was quite awake, and, 
 with a blubbering whine, he attempted to reply 
 to his master. 
 
 “ Oh ! masser Richard ! masser Richard ! such 
 
152 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 a ting ! such a ting ! I neber tink a could ’appen ! 
 neber tink he die ! Oh, Lor-a-gor ! ain’t bury — 
 keep ’em till masser Richard get back — got a 
 grabe dug — ” 
 
 Here the feelings of the negro completely got 
 the mastery, and instead of making any intelli- 
 gible explanation of the causes of his grief, he 
 blubbered aloud. 
 
 “ Eh ! what ! buried ! grave ! dead ! ” ex- 
 claimed Richard, with a tremor in his voice ; 
 “nothing serious? Nothing has happened to 
 Benjamin, I hope ? I know he has been bilious, 
 but I gave him — ” 
 
 “ Oh ! worser ’an dat ! worser ’an dat ! ” 
 sobbed the negro. “ Oh ! de Lor ! Miss ’Lizzy 
 an’ Miss Grant — walk — mountain — poor Bravy ! 
 — kill a lady — painter — Oh! Lor, Lor! — Natty 
 Bumppo— tare he troat open — come a see, masser 
 Richard — here he be — here he be.” 
 
 As all this was perfectly inexplicable to the 
 sheriff, he was very glad to wait patiently until 
 the black brought a lantern from the kitchen, 
 when he followed Aggy to the kennel, where he 
 beheld poor Brave, indeed, lying in his blood, 
 stiff and cold, but decently covered with the 
 great-coat of the negro. He was on the point of 
 demanding an explanation ; but the grief of the 
 black, who had fallen asleep on his voluntary 
 watch, having burst out afresh on his waking, 
 utterly disqualified the lad from giving one. 
 Luckily, at this moment the principal door of the 
 house opened, and the coarse features of Ben- 
 jamin were thrust over the threshold, with a 
 candle elevated above them, shedding its dim rays 
 around in such a manner as to exhibit the lights 
 and shadows of his countenance. Richard threw 
 his bridle to the black, and, bidding him look 
 to the horse, he entered the hall. 
 
 “ What is the meaning of the dead dog ? ” he 
 cried. “ Where is Miss Temple ? ” 
 
 Benjamin made one of his square gestures, 
 with the thumb of his left hand pointing over his 
 right shoulder, as he answered : 
 
 “ Turned in.” 
 
 “Judge Temple— where is he? ” 
 
 “ In his berth.” 
 
 “ But explain ; why is Brave dead ? and what 
 ita the cause of Aggy’s grief? ” 
 
 “ Why, it’s all down, squire,” said Benjamin, 
 pointing to a slate that lay on the table, by the 
 side of a mug of toddy, a short pipe, in which 
 the tobacco was yet burning, and a prayer-book. 
 
 Among the other pursuits of Richard, he had 
 a passion to keep a register of all passing events ; 
 and his diary, which was written in the manner of 
 a journal, or log-book, embraced not only such 
 
 circumstances as affected himself, but observor< 
 tions on the weather, and all the occurrences of 
 the family, and frequently of the village. Since 
 bis appointment to the office of sheriff, and his 
 consequent absences from home, he had employed 
 Benjamin to make memoranda, on a slate, of 
 whatever might be thought worth remembering* 
 which, on his return, were regularly transferred 
 to the journal, with proper notations of the time, 
 manner, and other little particulars. There was, 
 to be sure, one material objection to the clerk- 
 ship of Benjamin, which the ingenuity of no one 
 but Richard could have overcome. The steward 
 read nothing but his prayer-book, and that only in 
 particular parts, and by the aid of a good deal of 
 spelling, and some misnomers ; but he could not 
 form a single letter with a pen. This would have 
 been an insuperable bar to journalizing, with 
 most men ; but Richard invented a kind of hiero- 
 glyphical character, which was intended to note 
 all the ordinary occurrences of a day, such as 
 how the wind blew, whether the sun shone, or 
 whether it rained, the hours, etc. ; and for the 
 extraordinary, after giving certain elementary 
 lectures on the subject, the sheriff was obliged to 
 trust to the ingenuity of the major-domo. The 
 reader will at once perceive, that it was to this 
 chronicle that Benjamin pointed, instead of di* 
 rectly answering the sheriff’s interrogatory. 
 
 When Mr. Jones had drunk a glass of toddy, 
 he brought forth, from its secret place, his prop- 
 er journal, and, seating himself by the table, he 
 prepared to transfer the contents of the slate to 
 the paper, at the same time that he appeased his 
 curiosity. Benjamin laid one hand on the back 
 of the sheriff’s chair, in a familiar manner, while 
 he kept the other at liberty, to make use of a 
 forefinger, that was bent like some of his own 
 characters, as an index to point out his meaning. 
 
 The first thing referred to by the sheriff was 
 the diagram of a compass, cut in one corner of 
 the slate for permanent use. The cardinal points 
 were plainly marked on it, and all the usual 
 divisions were indicated in such a manner, that 
 no man who had ever steered a ship could mis- 
 take them. 
 
 “ Oh ! ” said the sheriff, settling himself down 
 comfortably in his chair— “ you’d the wind south- 
 east, I see, all last night; I thought it would 
 have blown up rain.” 
 
 “Devil the drop, sir,” said Benjamin: “I be- 
 lieve that the scuttle-butt up aloft is emptied, for 
 there hasn’t so much water fell in the country, 
 for the last three weeks, as would float Indian 
 John’s canoe, and that draws just one inch noth- 
 ing, light.” 
 
MR. JONES’S DIARY. 
 
 153 
 
 “ Well, but didn’t the wind change here this 
 morning ? there was a change where I was.” 
 
 “ To be sure it did, squire ; and haven’t I 
 logged it as a shift of wind ? ” 
 
 “I don’t see where, Benjamin — ” 
 
 “ Don’t see ! ” interrupted the steward, a 
 little crustily ; “ an’t there a mark ag’in east-and- 
 by-nothe-half-nothe, with sum’mat like a rising 
 sun at the end of it, to show ’twas in the morn- 
 ing watch ? ” 
 
 “Yes, yes, that is very legible; but where is 
 the change noted ? ” 
 
 “ Where 1 why doesn’t it see this here tea- 
 kettle, with a mark run from the spout straight, 
 or mayhap a little crooked or so, into west-and- 
 by-southe-half-southe ? now I call this a shift of 
 wind, squire. Well, do you see this here boar’s 
 head that you made for me, alongside of the 
 compass — ” 
 
 “ Ay, ay — Boreas — I see. Why, you’ve drawn 
 lines from its mouth, extending from one of your 
 marks to the other.” 
 
 “ It’s no fcult of mine, Squire Dickens ; ’tis 
 your d — d climate. The wind has been at all 
 them there marks this very day ; and that’s all 
 round the compass, except a little matter of an 
 Irishman’s hurricane at meridium, which you’ll 
 find marked right up and down. Now, I’ve 
 known a sow-wester blow for three weeks, in the 
 channel, with a clean drizzle, in which you might 
 wash your face and hands, without the trouble 
 of hauling in water from alongside.” 
 
 “ Very well, Benjamin,” said the sheriff, writ- 
 ing in his journal ; “ I believe I have caught the 
 idea. Oh! here’s a cloud over the rising sun — 
 so you had it hazy in the morning ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, sir,” said Benjamin. 
 
 “ Ah ! it’s Sunday, and here are the marks for 
 the length of the sermon— one, two, three, four ; 
 — what ! did Mr. Grant preach forty minutes ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, sum’mat like it ; it was a good half-hour 
 by my own glass, and then there was the time 
 lost in turning it, and some little allowance for 
 leeway in not being over-smart about it.” 
 
 “ Benjamin, this is as long as a Presbyterian ; 
 you never could have been ten minutes in turning 
 the glass ! ” 
 
 “Why, do you see, squire, the parson was 
 very solemn, and I just closed my eyes in order 
 to think the better with myself, just the same as 
 you’d put in the dead-lights to make all snug, and 
 when I opened them ag’in I found the congrega- 
 tion were getting under weigh for home, so I cal- 
 culated the ten minutes would cover the leeway 
 after the glass was out. It was only some such 
 matter as a cat’s nap.” 
 
 “ Oh, ho ! master Benjamin, you were asleep, 
 were you! but I’ll set down no such slander 
 against an orthodox divine.” Richard wrote 
 twenty-nine minutes in his journal, and continued 
 — “ Why, what’s this you’ve got opposite ten 
 o’clock a. m. ? A full moon ! had you a moon 
 visible by day ? I have heard of such portents 
 before now, but — eh ! what’s this alongside of it ? 
 an hour-glass ? ” 
 
 “ That ! ” said Benjamin, looking coolly over 
 the sheriff’s shoulder, and rolling the tobacco 
 about in his mouth with a jocular air ; “ why, 
 that’s a small matter of my own. It’s no moon, 
 squire, but only Betty Hollister’s face ; for, d’ye 
 see, sir, hearing all the same as if she had got up 
 a new cargo of Jamaiky from the river, I called 
 in as I was going to the church this morning — 
 ten a. m. was it ? — just the time — and tried a 
 glass ; and so I logged it, to put me in mind of 
 calling to pay her like an honest man.” 
 
 “ That was it, was it ? ” said the sheriff, with 
 some displeasure at this innovation on his mem- 
 oranda ; “and could you not make a better glass 
 than this? it looks like a death’s-head and an 
 hour-glass.” 
 
 “ Why, as I liked the stuff, squire,” returned 
 the steward, “ I turned in, homeward bound, and 
 took t’other glass, which I set down at the bot- 
 tom of the first, and that gives the thing the 
 shape it has. But as I was there again to-night, 
 and paid for the three at once, your honor may 
 as well run the sponge over the whole business.” 
 
 “ I will buy you a slate for your own affairs, 
 Benjamin,” said the sheriff; “I don’t like to have 
 the journal marked over in this manner.” 
 
 “ You needn’t — you needn’t, squire ; for, see- 
 ing that I was likely to trade often with the wom- 
 an while this barrel lasted, I’ve opened a fair ac- 
 count with Betty, and she keeps her marks on 
 the back of her bar-door, and I keeps the tally 
 on this here bit of a stick.” 
 
 As Benjamin concluded he produced a piece 
 of wood, on which five very large, honest notches 
 were apparent. The sheriff cast his eyes on this 
 new ledger for a moment, and continued : 
 
 “ What have we here ! Saturday, two p. m.— 
 why here’s a whole family piece ! two wineglasses 
 upsidedown ! ” 
 
 “ That’s two women ; the one this a-way is 
 Miss ’Lizzy, and t’other is the parson’s young’un.” 
 
 “ Cousin Bess and Miss Grant ! ” exclaimed 
 the sheriff, in amazement ; “ what have they to 
 do with my journal ? ” 
 
 “ They’d enough to do to get out of the jaws 
 of that there painter or panther,” said the im- 
 movable steward. 
 
154 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “ This here thingum’y, squire, that maybe 
 looks sum’mat like a rat, is the beast, d’ye see ; 
 and this here t’other thing, keel uppermost, is 
 poor old Brave, who died nobly, all the same as 
 an admiral fighting for his king and country : and 
 that there — ” 
 
 “ Scarecrow,” interrupted Richard. 
 
 “ Ay, mayhap it do look a little wild or so,” 
 continued the steward ; “ but to my judgment, 
 squire, it’s the best image I’ve made, seeing it’s 
 most like the man himself; well, that’s Natty 
 Bumppo, who shot this here painter, that killed 
 that there dog, who would have eaten or done 
 worse to them here young ladies.” 
 
 “ And what the devil does all this mean ? ” 
 cried Richard, impatiently. 
 
 “ Mean ! ” echoed Benjamin ; “ it is as true 
 as the Boadishey’s log-book — ” 
 
 He was interrupted by the sheriff, who put a 
 few direct questions to him, that obtained more 
 intelligible answers, by which mean3 he became 
 possessed of a tolerably-correct idea of the truth. 
 When the wonder, and, we must do Richard the 
 justice to say, the feelings also, that were created 
 by this narrative, had in some degree subsided, 
 the sheriff turned his eyes again on his journal, 
 where more inexplicable hieroglyphics met his 
 view. 
 
 “ What have we here ? ” he cried ; “ two men 
 boxing ! has there been a breach of the peace ? 
 ah, that’s the way, the moment my back is 
 turned — ” 
 
 ! ‘ That’s the Judge and young Master Ed- 
 wards,” interrupted the steward, very cavalierly. 
 
 “ How ! ’duke fighting with Oliver ! what the 
 devil has got into you all ? more things have 
 happened within the last thirty-six hours than in 
 the preceding six months.” 
 
 “Yes, it’s so indeed, squire,” returned the 
 steward ; “ I’ve known a smart chase, and a fight 
 at the tail of it, where less has been logged than 
 I’ve got on that there slate. Howsomnever, they 
 didn’t come to facers, only passed a little jaw 
 fore and aft.” 
 
 “ Explain ! explain ! ” cried Richard ; “ it 
 was about the mines, ha ! — ay, ay, I see it, I see 
 it ; here is a man with a pick on his shoulder. 
 So you heard it all, Benjamin ? ” 
 
 “ Why, yes, it was about their minds, I be- 
 lieve, squire,” returned the steward; “and, by 
 what I can learn, they spoke them pretty plainly 
 to one another. Indeed, I may say that I over- 
 heard a small matter of it myself, seeing that the 
 windows was open, and I hard by. But this here 
 is no pick, but an anchor on a man’s shoulder ; 
 and here’s the other fluke down his back, maybe 
 
 a little too close, which signifies that the lad ha* 
 got under weigh and left his moorings.” 
 
 “ Has Edwards left the house ? ” 
 
 “ He has.” 
 
 Richard pursued this advantage; and, after 
 a long and close examination, he succeeded in 
 getting out of Benjamin all that he knew, not 
 only concerning the misunderstanding, but of the 
 attempt to search the hut, and Hiram’s discomfit- 
 ure. The sheriff was no sooner possessed of 
 these facts, which Benjamin related with all pos- 
 sible tenderness to the Leather-stocking, than, 
 snatching up his hat, and bidding the astonished 
 steward secure the doors and go to his bed, he 
 left the house. 
 
 For at least five minutes after Richard disap- 
 peared, Benjamin stood with his arms a-kimbo, 
 and his eyes fastened on the door ; when, having 
 collected his astonished faculties, he prepared to 
 execute the orders he had received. 
 
 It has been already said that the “ court of 
 common pleas and general sessions of the peace,” 
 or, as it is commonly called, the “ county court,” 
 over which Judge Temple presided, held one of 
 its stated sessions on the following morning. 
 The attendants of Richard were officers who had 
 come to the village, as much to discharge their 
 usual duties at this court, as to escort the prison- 
 ers ; and the sheriff knew their habits too well, 
 not to feel confident he should find most, if not 
 all of them, in the public room of the jail, dis- 
 cussing the qualities of the keeper’s liquors. 
 Accordingly he held his way through the silent 
 streets of the village, directly to the small and 
 insecure building that contained all the unfor- 
 tunate debtors, and some of the criminals of the 
 county, and where justice was administered to 
 such unwary applicants as were so silly as to 
 throw away two dollars, in order to obtain one 
 from their neighbors. The arrival of four male- 
 factors in the custody of a dozen officers, was an 
 event, at that day, in Templeton ; and, when the 
 sheriff reached the jail, he found every indication 
 that his subordinates intended to make a night 
 of it. 
 
 The nod of the sheriff brought two of his 
 deputies to the door, who in their turn drew off 
 six or seven of the constables. With this force 
 Richard led the way through the village, toward 
 the bank of the lake, undisturbed by any noise, 
 except the barking of one or two curs, who were 
 alarmed by the measured tread of the party, and 
 by the low murmurs that ran through their own 
 numbers, as a few cautious questions and answers 
 were exchanged, relative to the object of their 
 expedition. When they had crossed the little 
 
NATTY A PRISONER. 
 
 bridge of hewn logs that was thrown over the 
 Susquehanna, they left the highway, and struck 
 into that field which had been the scene of the 
 victory over the pigeons. From this they fol- 
 lowed their leader into the low bushes of pines 
 and chestnuts which had sprung up along the 
 shores of the lake, where the plough had not 
 succeeded the fall of the trees, and soon entered 
 tne forest itself. Here Richard paused and col- 
 lected his troop around him. 
 
 “ I have required your assistance, my friends,” 
 he said, in a low voice, “ in order to arrest Na- 
 thaniel Bumppo, commonly called the Leather- 
 stocking. He has assaulted a magistrate, and re- 
 sisted the execution of a search-warrant, by 
 threatening the life of a constable with his rifle. 
 In short, my friends, he has set an example of re- 
 bellion to the laws, and has become a kind of out- 
 law. He is suspected of other misdemeanors and 
 offences against private rights ; and I have this 
 night taken on myself, by the virtue of my office 
 of sheriff, to arrest the said Bumppo, and bring 
 him to the county jail, that he may be present and 
 forthcoming to answer to these heavy charges be- 
 fore the court to-morrow morning. In executing 
 this duty, friends and fellow-citizens, you are to 
 use courage and discretion: courage, that you 
 may not be daunted by any lawless attempts that 
 this man may make with his rifle and his dogs to 
 oppose you ; and discretion, which here means 
 caution and prudence, that he may not escape 
 from this sudden attack — and for other good rea- 
 sons that I need not mention. You will form 
 yourselves in a complete circle around his hut, and 
 at the word ‘ advance,’ called aloud by me, you 
 will rush forward, and, without giving the crimi- 
 nal time for deliberation, enter his dwelling by 
 force, and make him your prisoner. Spread your- 
 selves for this purpose, while I shall descend to 
 the shore with a deputy, to take charge of that 
 point ; and all communications must be made di- 
 rectly to me, under the bank in front of the hut, 
 where I shall station myself and remain, in order 
 to receive them.” 
 
 This speech, which Richard had been studying 
 during his walk, had the effect that all similar 
 performances produce, of bringing the dangers of 
 the expedition immediately before the eyes of his 
 forces. The men divided, some plunging deeper 
 into the forest, in order to gain their stations 
 without giving an alarm, and others continuing to 
 advance, at a gait that would allow the whole 
 party to go in order : but all devising the best 
 plan to repulse the attack of a dog, or to escape 
 a rifle bullet. It was a moment of dread expec- 
 tation and interest. 
 
 153 
 
 When the sheriff thought time enough had 
 elapsed for the different divisions of his force to 
 arrive at their stations, he raised his voice in the 
 silence of the forest, and shouted the watchword. 
 The sounds played among the arched branches of 
 the trees in hollow cadences ; but when the last 
 sinking tone was lost on the ear, in place of the 
 expected howls of the dogs, no other noises were 
 returned but the crackling of torn branches and 
 dried sticks, as they yielded before the advan- 
 cing steps of the officers. Even this soon ceased, 
 as if by a common consent, when the curiosity 
 and impatience of the sheriff getting the complete 
 ascendency over discretion, he rushed up the bank, 
 and in a moment stood on the little piece of 
 cleared ground in front of the spot where Natty 
 had so long lived. To his amazement, in place of 
 the hut he saw only its smouldering ruins. 
 
 The party gradually drew together about the 
 heap of ashes and the ends of smoking logs ; 
 while a dim flame in the centre of the ruin, 
 which still found fuel to feed its lingering life, 
 threw its pale light, flickering with the passing 
 currents of the air, around the circle — now show- 
 ing a face with eyes fixed in astonishment, and 
 then glancing to another countenance, leaving 
 the former shaded in the obscurity of night 
 Not a voice was raised in inquiry, nor an excla- 
 mation made in astonishment. The transition 
 from excitement to disappointment was too power- 
 ful for speech ; and even Richard lost the use of 
 an organ that was seldom known to fail him. 
 
 The whole group were yet in the fulness of 
 their surprise, when a tall form stalked from the 
 gloom into the circle, treading down the hot ashes 
 and dying embers with callous feet ; and, stand- 
 ing over the light, lifted his cap, and exposed the 
 bare head and weather-beaten features of the 
 Leather-stocking. For a moment he gazed at 
 the dusky figures who surrounded him, more in 
 sorrow than in anger, before he spoke. 
 
 “ What would ye with an old and helpless 
 man ? ” he said. “ You’ve driven God’s creaters 
 from the wilderness, where his providence had put 
 them for his own pleasure : and you’ve brought in 
 the troubles and divilties of the law, where no 
 man was ever known to disturb another. You 
 have driven me, that have lived forty long years of 
 my appointed time in this very spot, from my home 
 and the shelter of my head, lest you should put 
 your wicked feet and wasty ways in my cabin. 
 You’ve driven me to bum these logs, under which 
 I’ve eaten and drunk — the first of Heaven’s gifts, 
 and the other of the pure springs — for the half of 
 a hundred years ; and to mourn the ashes under 
 my feet, as a man would weep and mourn for the 
 
156 
 
 lUE PIONEERS. 
 
 children of his body. You’ve rankled the heart 
 of an old man, that has never harmed you or 
 you*frn, with bitter feelings toward his kind, at a 
 time when his thoughts should be on a better 
 world ; and you’ve driven him to wish that the 
 beasts of the forest, who never feast on the blood 
 of their own families, was his kindred and race : 
 and now, when he has come to see the last brand 
 of his hut, before it is melted into ashes, you 
 follow him up, at midnight, like hungry hounds 
 on the track of a worn-out and dying deer. What 
 more would ye have? for I am here — one too 
 many. I come to mourn, not to fight ; and, if it 
 is God’s pleasure, work your will on me.” 
 
 When the old man ended, he stood, with the 
 light glimmering around his thinly-covered head, 
 looking earnestly at the group, which receded 
 from the pile with afi involuntary movement, 
 without the reach of the quivering rays, leaving a 
 free passage for his retreat into the bushes, where 
 pursuit in the dark would have been fruitless. 
 Natty seemed not to regard this advantage ; but 
 stood facing each individual in the circle in suc- 
 cession, as if to see who would be the first to 
 arrest him. After a pause of a few moments, 
 Richard began to rally his confused faculties ; 
 and, advancing, apologized for his duty, and made 
 him his prisoner. The party now collected ; and, 
 preceded by the sheriff, with Natty in their cen- 
 tre, they took their way toward the village. 
 
 During the walk, divers questions were put 
 to the prisoner concerning his reasons for burn- 
 ing the hut, and whither Mohegan had retreated ; 
 but to all of them he observed a profound silence, 
 until, fatigued with their previous duties, and 
 the lateness of the hour, the sheriff and his fol- 
 lowers reached the village, and dispersed to their 
 several places of rest, after turning the key of a 
 jail on the aged and apparently friendless Leather- 
 stocking. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 “ Fetch here the stocks, ho ! 
 
 You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend braggart, 
 
 ■We’ll teach you.” 
 
 Leab. 
 
 The long days and early sun of July allowed 
 time for a gathering of the interested, before the 
 little bell of the academy announced that the ap- 
 pointed hour had arrived for administering right 
 to the wronged, and punishment to the guilty. 
 Ever since the dawn of day, the highways and 
 wood-paths that, issuing from the forests, and 
 
 winding along the s.des of the mountains, cen- 
 tred in Templeton, had been thronged with 
 equestrians and footmen, bound to the haven of 
 justice. There was to be seen a well-clad yeoman, 
 mounted on a sleek, switch-tailed steed, ambling 
 along the highway, with his red face elevated in 
 a manner that said, “ I have paid for my land, 
 and fear no man ; ” while his bosom was swelling 
 with the pride of being one of the grand inquest 
 for the county. At his side rode a companion, 
 his equal in independence of feeling, perhaps, 
 but his inferior in thrift, as in property and con- 
 sideration. This was a professed dealer in law- 
 suits — a man whose name appeared in every 
 calendar — whose substance, gained in the mul- 
 tifarious expedients of a settler’s changeable 
 habits, was wasted in feeding the harpies of the 
 courts. He was endeavoring to impress the mind 
 of the grand juror with the merits of a cause now 
 at issue. Along with these was a pedestrian, 
 who, having thrown a rifle frock over his shirt, 
 and placed his best wool hat above his sunburnt 
 visage, had issued from his retreat in the woods 
 by a foot-path, and was striving to keep company 
 with the others, on his way to hear and to decide 
 the disputes of his neighbors, as a petit juror. 
 Fifty similar little knots of countrymen might 
 have been seen, on that morning, journeying to- 
 ward the shire-town on the same errand. 
 
 By ten o’clock the streets of the village were 
 filled with busy faces ; some talking of their private 
 concerns, some listening to a popular expounder 
 of political creeds ; and others gaping in at the 
 open stores, admiring the finery, or examining 
 scythes, axes, and such other manufactures as 
 attracted their curiosity or excited their admira- 
 tion. A few women were in the crowd, most 
 carrying infants, and followed, at a lounging, list- 
 less gait, by their rustic lords and masters. There 
 was one young couple, in whom connubial love 
 was yet fresh, walking at a respectful distance from 
 each other ; while the swain directed the timid 
 steps of his bride, by a gallant offering of a 
 thumb ! 
 
 At the first stroke of the bell, Richard issued 
 from the door of the “ Bold Dragoon,” flourish- 
 ing a sheathed sword, that he was fond of saying 
 his ancestors had carried in one of Cromwell’s 
 victories, and crying, in an authoritative tone, to 
 “ clear the way for the court.” The order wag 
 obeyed promptly, though not servilely, the mem- 
 bers of the crowd nodding familiarly to the mem- 
 bers of the procession as it passed. A party of 
 constables with their staves followed the sheriff 
 preceding Marmaduke, and four plain, grave-look- 
 ing yeomen, who were his associates on the bench. 
 
THE HUNTER IN COURT. 
 
 15 ? 
 
 There was nothing to distinguish these subordi- 
 nate judges from the better part of the spectators, 
 except gravity, which they affected a little more 
 than common, and that one of their number was 
 attired in an old-fashioned military coat, with 
 skirts that reached no lower than the middle of 
 his thighs, and bearing two little silver epaulets, 
 not half so big as a modern pair of shoulder-knots. 
 This gentleman was a colonel of the militia, in 
 attendance on a court-martial, who found leisure 
 to steal a moment from his military to*attend to 
 his civil jurisdiction ; but this incongruity excited 
 neither notice nor comment. Three or four clean- 
 shaved lawyers followed, as meek as if they were 
 lambs going to the slaughter. One or two of 
 their number had contrived to obtain an air of 
 scholastic gravity by wearing spectacles. The 
 rear was brought up by another posse of consta- 
 bles, and the mob followed the whole into the 
 room where the court held its sittings. 
 
 The edifice was composed of a basement of 
 squared logs, perforated here and there with small 
 grated windows, through which a few wistful 
 faces were gazing at the crowd without. Among 
 the captives were the guilty, downcast counte- 
 nances of the counterfeiters, and the simple but 
 honest features of the Leather-stocking. The 
 dungeons were to be distinguished, externally, 
 from the debtor’s apartments only by the size of 
 the apertures, the thickness of the grates, and 
 by the heads of the spikes that were driven into 
 the logs as a protection against the illegal use of 
 edge-tools. The upper story was of framework, 
 regularly covered with boards, and contained one 
 room decently fitted up for the purposes of jus- 
 tice. A bench, raised on a narrow platform to 
 the height of a man above the floor, and pro- 
 tected in front by a light railing, ran along one 
 of its sides. In the centre was a seat, furnished 
 with rude arms, that was always filled by the pre- 
 siding judge. In front, on a level with the floor 
 of the room, was a large table covered with green 
 baize, and surrounded by benches ; and at either 
 of its ends were rows of seats, rising one over 
 the other, for jury-boxes. Each of these divi- 
 sions was surrounded by a railing. The remain- 
 der of the room was an open square, appropriated 
 to the spectators. 
 
 When the judges were seated, the lawyers 
 had taken possession of the table, and the noise 
 of moving feet had ceased in the area, the proc- 
 lamations were made in the usual form, the ju- 
 lors were sworn, the charge was given, and the 
 court proceeded to hear the business before 
 them. 
 
 We shall not detain the reader with a descrip- 
 
 tion of the captious discussions that occupied 
 the court for the first two hours. Judge Temple 
 had impressed on the jury, in his charge, the 
 necessity for dispatch on their part, recommend- 
 ing to their notice, from motives of humanity, 
 the prisoners in the jail, as the first objects of 
 their attention. Accordingly, after the period 
 we have mentioned had elapsed, the cry of the 
 officer to “clear the way for the grand jury,” an- 
 nounced the entrance of that body. The usual 
 forms were observed, when the foreman handed 
 up to the bench two bills, on both of which the 
 Judge observed, at the first glance of his eye, 
 the name of Nathaniel Bumppo. It was a leisure 
 moment with the court; some low whispering 
 passed between the bench and the sheriff, who 
 gave a signal to his officers, and in a very few 
 minutes the silence that prevailed was interrupt- 
 ed by a general movement in the outer crowd, 
 when presently the Leather-stocking made his 
 appearance, ushered into the criminal’s bar under 
 the custody of two constables. The hum ceased, 
 the people closed into the open space again, and 
 the silence soon became so deep that the hard 
 breathing of the prisoner was audible. 
 
 Natty was dressed in his buckskin garments, 
 without his coat, in place of which he wore only 
 a shirt of coarse linen-check, fastened at his 
 throat by the sinew of a deer, leaving his red 
 neck and weather-beaten face exposed and bare. 
 It was the first time that he had ever crossed 
 the threshold of a court of justice, and curiosity 
 seemed to be strongly blended with his personal 
 feelings. He raised his eyes to the bench, thence 
 to the jury-boxes, the bar, and the crowd with- 
 out, meeting everywhere looks fastened on him- 
 self. After surveying his own person, as search- 
 ing the cause of this unusual attraction, he once 
 more turned his face around the assemblage, and 
 opened his mouth in one of his silent and remark- 
 able laughs. 
 
 “ Prisoner, remove your cap,” said Judgo 
 Temple. 
 
 The order was either unheard or unheeded. 
 
 “ Nathaniel Bumppo, be uncovered,” repeated 
 the Judge. 
 
 Natty started at the sound of his name, and, 
 raising his face earnestly toward the bench, he 
 said: 
 
 “ Anan ! ” 
 
 Mr. Lippet arose from his seat at the table, 
 and whispered in the ear of the prisoner ; when 
 Natty gave him a nod of assent, and took the 
 deer-skin covering from his head. 
 
 “ Mr. District Attorney,” said the Judge, “ the 
 prisoner is ready ; we wait fer the indictment.” 
 
158 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 The duties of public prosecutor were dis- 
 charged by Dirck Van der School, who adjusted his 
 spectacles, cast a cautious look around him at his 
 brethren of the bar, which he ended by throwing 
 his head aside so as to catch one glance over the 
 glasses, when he proceeded to read the bill aloud. 
 It was the usual charge for an assault and bat- 
 tery on the person of Hiram Doolittle, and was 
 couched in the ancient language of such instru- 
 ments, especial care having been taken by the 
 scribe not to omit the name of a single offensive 
 weapon known to the law. When he had done, 
 Mr. Yan der School removed his speotacles, which 
 he closed and placed in his pocket, seemingly 
 for the pleasure of again opening and replacing 
 them on his nose. After this evolution was re- 
 peated once or twice, he handed the bill over to 
 Mr. Lippet, with a cavalier air, that said as much 
 as “ Pick a hole in that if you can.” 
 
 Natty listened to the charge with great atten- 
 tion, leaning forward toward the reader with an 
 earnestness that denoted his interest ; and, when 
 it was ended, he raised his tall body to the ut- 
 most, and drew a long sigh. All eyes were turned 
 to the prisoner, whose voice was vainly expected 
 to break the stillness of the room. 
 
 “You have heard the presentment that the 
 grand jury have made, Nathaniel Bumppo,” said 
 the Judge ; “ what do you plead to the charge ? ” 
 
 The old man dropped his head for a moment 
 in a reflecting attitude, and then, raising it, he 
 laughed before he answered : 
 
 44 That I handled the man a little rough or 
 so, is not to be denied ; but that there was occa- 
 sion to make use of all the things that the gentle- 
 man has spoken of, is downright untrue. I am 
 not much of a wrestler, seeing that I’m getting 
 old ; but I was out among the Scotch-Irishers — 
 lets me see — it must have been as long ago as 
 the first year of the old war — ” 
 
 “ Mr. Lippet, if you are retained for the pris- 
 oner,” interrupted Judge Temple, “ instruct your 
 client how to plead ; if not, the court will assign 
 him counsel.” 
 
 Aroused from studying the indictment by this 
 appeal, the attorney got up, and after a short 
 dialogue with the hunter in a low voice, he in- 
 formed the court that they were ready to pro- 
 ceed. 
 
 “ Do you plead guilty or not guilty ? ” said 
 the Judge. 
 
 “I may say not guilty, with a clean con- 
 science, ” returned Natty ; “ for there’s no guilt 
 in doing what’s right ; and I’d rather died on the 
 spot, than had him put foot in the hut at that 
 moment.” 
 
 Richard started at this declaration, and bent 
 his eyes significantly on Hiram, who returned the 
 look with a slight movemeiit of his eyebrows. 
 
 “ Proceed to open the cause, Mr. District At- 
 torney,” continued the Judge. “ Mr. Clerk, enter 
 the plea of not guilty.” 
 
 After a short opening address from Mr. Yan 
 der School, Hiram was summoned to the bar to 
 give his testimony. It was delivered to the let- 
 ter, perhaps, but with all that moral coloring 
 which can be conveyed under such expressions 
 as, “ thinking no harm,” 44 feeling it my bounden 
 duty as a magistrate,” and 44 seeing that the con- 
 stable was back’ard in the business.” When he 
 had done, and the district attorney declined put- 
 ting any further interrogatories, Mr. Lippet arose, 
 with an air of keen investigation, and asked the 
 following questions : 
 
 “Are you a constable of this county, sir? ” 
 
 “No, sir,” said Hiram, “I’m only a justice- 
 peace.” 
 
 44 I ask you, Mr. Doolittle, in the face of this 
 court, putting it to your conscience and your 
 knowledge of the law, whether you had any right 
 to enter that man’s dwelling ? ” 
 
 “ Hem ! ” said Hiram, undergoing a violent 
 struggle between his desire for vengeance and 
 his love of legal fame ; “I do suppose — that in 
 — that is — strict law — that supposing — maybe I 
 hadn’t a real — lawful right ; but as the case was 
 — and Billy was so back’ard — I thought I might 
 come for’ard in the business.” 
 
 “ I ask you again, sir,” continued the lawyer, 
 following up his success, “ whether this old, this 
 friendless old man, did or did not repeatedly 
 forbid your entrance ? *’ 
 
 “ Why, I must say,” said Hiram, “ that he 
 was considerable cross-grained ; not what I call 
 clever, seeing that it was only one neighbor want- 
 ing to go into the house of another.” 
 
 “ Oh ! then you own it was only meant for a 
 neighborly visit on your part, and without the 
 sanction of law. Remember, gentlemen, the 
 words of the witness, 4 one neighbor wanting to 
 enter the house of another.’ Now, sir, I ask you 
 if Nathaniel Bumppo did not again and again or- 
 der you not to enter ? ” 
 
 44 There was some words passed between us,” 
 said Hiram, “but I read the warrant to him 
 aloud.” 
 
 44 1 repeat my question ; did he tell you not to 
 enter his habitation ? ” 
 
 44 There was a good deal passed betwixt us — 
 but I’ve the warrant in my pocket ; maybe the 
 court would wish to see it ? ” 
 
 “Witness,” said Judge Temple, “ answer th* 
 
THE VERDICT. 
 
 159 
 
 question directly ; did or did not the prisoner for- 
 bid your entering his hut ? ” 
 
 “ Why, I some think — ” 
 
 “Answer without equivocation,” continued 
 the Judge, sternly. 
 
 “He did.” . 
 
 “And did you attempt to enter after this 
 order ? ” 
 
 “ I did ; but the warrant was in my hand.” 
 
 “Proceed, Mr. Lippet, with your examination.” 
 
 But the attorney saw that the impression was 
 in favor of his client, and, waving his hand with 
 a supercilious manner, as if unwilling to insult 
 the understanding of the jury with any further 
 defence, he replied : 
 
 “ No, sir ; I leave it for your honor to charge ; 
 I rest my case here.” 
 
 “ Mr. District Attorney,” said the Judge, 
 “ have you any thing to say ? ” 
 
 Mr. Van der School removed his spectacles, 
 folded them, and, replacing them once more on 
 his nose, eyed the other bill which he held in his 
 hand, and then said, looking at the bar over the 
 top of his glasses : 
 
 “ I shall rest the prosecution here, if the 
 court please.” 
 
 Judge Temple arose and began the charge. 
 
 “ Gentlemen of the jury,” he said, “ you have 
 heard the testimony, and I shall detain you but a 
 moment. If an officer meet with resistance in 
 the execution of a process, he has an undoubted 
 right to call any citizen to his assistance ; and 
 the acts of such assistant come within the pro- 
 tection of the law. I shall leave you to judge, 
 gentlemen, from the testimony, how far the wit- 
 ness in this prosecution can be so considered, 
 feeling less reluctance to submit the case thus 
 informally to your decision, because there is yet 
 another indictment to be tried, which involves 
 heavier charges against the unfortunate prisoner.” 
 
 The tone of Marmaduke was mild and insinu- 
 ating, and, as his sentiments were given with such 
 apparent impartiality, they did not fail of carry- 
 ing due weight with the jury. The grave-looking 
 yeomen who composed this tribunal, laid their 
 heads together for a few minutes, without leaving 
 the box, when the foreman arose, and, after the 
 forms of the court were duly observed, he pro- 
 nounced the prisoner to be 
 
 “ Not guilty.” 
 
 “You are acquitted of this charge, Nathaniel 
 Bumppo,” said the Judge. 
 
 “ Anan! ” said Natty. 
 
 “You are found not guilty of striking and 
 assaulting Mr. Doolittle.” 
 
 “No, no, I’ll not deny but that I took him a 
 
 little roughly by the s boulders,” said Natty, look- 
 ing about him with great simplicity, “ and that 
 I—” 
 
 “ You are acquitted,” interrupted the Judge, 
 “ and there is nothing further to be said or done 
 in the matter.” 
 
 A look of joy lighted up the features of the 
 old man, who now comprehended the case, and, 
 placing his cap eagerly on his head again, he 
 threw up the bar of his little prison, and said, 
 feelingly : 
 
 “ I must say this for you, Judge Temple, that 
 the law has not been so hard on me as I dreaded. 
 I hope God will bless you for the kind things 
 you’ve done to me this day.” 
 
 But the staff of the constable was opposed to 
 his egress, and Mr. Lippet whispered a few words 
 in his ear, when the aged hunter sank back into 
 his place, and, removing his cap, stroked down 
 the remnants of his gray and sandy locks, with 
 an air of mortification mingled with submission. 
 
 “Mr. District Attorney,” said Judge Temple, 
 affecting to busy himself with his minutes, “pro- 
 ceed with the second indictment.” 
 
 Mr. Van der School took great care that no 
 part of the presentment, which he now read, 
 should be lost on his auditors. It accused the 
 prisoner of resisting the execution of a search- 
 warrant, by force of arms, and particularized, in 
 the vague language of the law, among a variety 
 of other weapons, the use of the rifle. This was 
 indeed a more serious charge than an ordinary 
 assault and battery, and a corresponding degree 
 of interest was manifested by the spectators in 
 its result. The prisoner was duly arraigned, and 
 his plea again demanded. Mr. Lippet had anti- 
 cipated the answers of Natty, and in a whisper ad- 
 vised him how to plead. But the feelings of the 
 old hunter were awakened by some of the expres- 
 sions of the indictment, and, forgetful of his cau- 
 tion, he exclaimed : 
 
 “ ’Tis a wicked untruth ; I crave no man’s 
 blood. Them thieves, the Iroquois, won’t say it 
 to my face, that I ever thirsted after man’s blood. 
 I have fou’t as a soldier that feared his Maker 
 and his officer, but I never pulled trigger on any 
 but a warrior that was up and awake. No man 
 can say that I ever struck even a Mingo in his 
 blanket. I believe there’s some who thinks 
 there’s no God in a wilderness ! ” 
 
 “Attend to your plea, Bumppo,” said the 
 Judge ; “ you hear that you are accused of using 
 your rifle against an officer of justice ? are you 
 guilty or not guilty ? ” 
 
 By this time the irritated feelings of Natty 
 had found vent ; and he rested on the bar for a 
 
160 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 moment, in a musing posture, when he lifted his 
 face, with his silent laugh, and, pointing to where 
 the wood-chopper stood, he said : 
 
 “ Would Billy Kirby be standing there, d’ye 
 think, if I had used the rifle ? ” 
 
 “ Then you deny it,” said Mr. Lippet ; “ you 
 plead not guilty ? ” 
 
 “ Sartain,” said Natty ; “ Billy knows that I 
 never fired at all. Billy, do you remember the 
 turkey last winter ? ah ! me ! that was better than 
 common firing; but I can’t shoot as I used to 
 could.” 
 
 “ Enter the plea of not guilty,” said Judge 
 Temple, strongly affected by the simplicity of the 
 prisoner. 
 
 Hiram was again sworn, and his testimony 
 given on the second charge. He had discovered 
 his former error, and proceeded more cautiously 
 than before. He related very distinctly, and, for 
 the man, with amazing terseness, the suspicion 
 against the hunter, the complaint, the issuing of 
 the warrant, and the swearing in of Kirby ; alj 
 of which, he affirmed, were done in due form of 
 law. He then added the manner in which the 
 constable had been received; and stated, dis- 
 tinctly, that Natty had pointed the rifle at Kirby } 
 and threatened his life, if he attempted to execute 
 his duty. All this was confirmed by Jotham, who 
 was observed to adhere closely to the story of 
 the magistrate. Mr. Lippet conducted an artful 
 cross-examination of these two witnesses, but, 
 after consuming much time, was compelled to re- 
 linquish the attempt to obtain any advantage, in 
 despair. 
 
 At length the district attorney called the 
 wood-chopper to the bar. Billy gave an ex- 
 tremely confused account of the whole affair, 
 although he evidently aimed at the truth, until 
 Mr. Yan der School aided him, by asking some 
 direct questions : 
 
 “ It appears from examining the papers, that 
 you demanded admission into the hut legally ; so 
 you were put in bodily fear by his rifle and 
 threats ? ” 
 
 “ I didn’t mind them that, man,” said Billy, 
 snapping his fingers ; “ I should be a poor stick 
 to mind old Leather-stocking.” 
 
 “ But I understood you to say (referring to 
 your previous words (as delivered here in court) 
 in the commencement of your testimony) that 
 you thought he meant to shoot you ? ” 
 
 “ To be sure I did ; and so would you too, 
 squire, if you had seen the chap dropping a muz- 
 zle that never misses, and cocking an eye that 
 has a natural squint by long practice. I thought 
 there would be a dust on’t, and my back was up at 
 
 once ; but Leather-stocking gi’n up the skin, and 
 so the matter ended.” 
 
 “Ah! Billy,” said Natty, shaking his head, 
 “ ’twas a lucky thought in me to throw out the 
 hide, or there might have been blood spilt ; and 
 I’m sure, if it had been yourn, I should have 
 mourned it sorely the little while I have to stay.” 
 
 “Well, Leather-stocking,” returned Billy, fac- 
 ing the prisoner with a freedom and familiarity 
 that utterly disregarded the presence of the court, 
 “as you are on the subject, it may be that you’ve 
 no — ” 
 
 “ Go on with your examination, Mr. District 
 Attorney.” 
 
 That gentleman eyed the familiarity between 
 his witness and the prisoner with manifest dis- 
 gust, and indicated to the court that he was 
 done. 
 
 “ Then you didn’t feel frightened, Mr. Kirby ? ” 
 said the counsel for the prisoner. 
 
 “ Me ! no,” said Billy, casting his eyes over his 
 own huge frame with evident self-satisfaction; 
 “ I’m not to be sheared so easy.” 
 
 “ You look like a hardy man ; where were you 
 born, sir ? ” 
 
 “Varmount State; ’tis a mountaynious place, 
 but there’s a stiff soil, and it’s pretty much 
 wooded with beach and maple.” 
 
 “I have always heard so,” said Mr. Lippet, 
 soothingly. “You have been used to the rifle 
 yourself, in that country ? ” 
 
 “ I pull the second best trigger in this coun- 
 ty. I knock under to Natty Bumppo there, sin’ 
 he shot the pigeon.” 
 
 Leather-stocking raised his head, and laughed 
 again, when he abruptly thrust out a wrinkled 
 hand, and said : 
 
 “You’re young yet, Billy, and hav’nt seen 
 the matches that I have ; but here’s my hand ; I 
 bear no malice to you, I don’t.” 
 
 Mr. Lippet allowed this conciliatory offering 
 to be accepted, and judiciously paused, while the 
 spirit of peace was exercising its influence over 
 the two ; but the Judge interposed his authority. 
 
 “ This is an improper place for such dia- 
 logues,” he said ; “ proceed with your examination 
 of this witness, Mr. Lippet, or I shall order the 
 next.” 
 
 The attorney started, as if unconscious of an? 
 impropriety, and continued : 
 
 “ So you settled the matter with Natty amica- 
 bly on the spot, did you ? ” 
 
 “He gi’n me the skin, and I didn’t want to 
 quarrel with an old man ; for my part, I see no 
 such mighty matter in shooting a buck ! ” 
 
 “And you parted friends? and you would 
 
JUDGE TEMPLE’S SENTENCE. 
 
 161 
 
 never have thought of bringing the business up 
 before a court, hadn’t you been subpoenaed? ” 
 
 “ I don’t think I should ; he gi’n the skin, and 
 I didn’t feel a hard thought, though Squire Doo- 
 little got some affronted.” 
 
 “ I have done, sir,” said Mr. Lippet, probably 
 relying on the charge of the Judge, as he again 
 seated himself, with the air of a man who felt 
 that his success was certain. 
 
 When Mr. Van der School arose to address 
 the jury, he commenced by saying : 
 
 “ Gentlemen of the jury, I should have inter- 
 rupted the leading questions put by the prisoner’s 
 counsel (by leading questions I mean telling him 
 what to say), did I not feel confident that the law 
 of the land was superior to any advantages (I 
 mean legal advantages) which he might obtain by 
 his art. The counsel for the prisoner, gentlemen, 
 has endeavored to persuade you, in opposition to 
 your own good sense, to believe that pointing a 
 rifle at a constable (elected or deputed) is a very 
 innocent affair j and that society (I mean the 
 commonwealth, gentlemen) shall not be endan- 
 gered thereby. But let me claim your attention, 
 while we look over the particulars of this heinous 
 offence.” Here Mr. Yan der School favored the 
 jury with an abridgment of the testimony, re- 
 counted in such a manner as utterly to confuse 
 the faculties of his worthy listeners. After this 
 exhibition he closed as follows : “ And now, gen- 
 tlemen, having thus made plain to your senses 
 the crime of which this unfortunate man has been 
 guilty (unfortunate both on account of his igno- 
 rance and his guilt), I shall leave you to your own 
 consciences ; not in the least doubting that you 
 will see the importance (notwithstanding the pris- 
 oner’s counsel (doubtless relying on your former 
 verdict) wishes to appear so confident of success) 
 of punishing the offender, and asserting the dig- 
 nity of the laws.” 
 
 It was 'now the duty of the Judge to deliver 
 his charge. It consisted of a short, comprehen- 
 sive summary of the testimony, laying bare the 
 artifice of the prisoner’s counsel, and placing the 
 facts in so obvious a light, that they could not 
 well be misunderstood. “ Living as we do, gen- 
 tlemen,” he concluded, “ on the skirts of society, 
 it becomes doubly necessary to protect the min- 
 isters of the law. If you believe the witnesses, 
 'n their construction of the acts of the prisoner, 
 it is your duty to convict him ; but if you believe 
 that the old man, who this day appears before 
 you, meant not to harm the constable, but was 
 acting more under the influence of habit than by 
 the instigations of malice, it will be your duty to 
 fudge him, but to do it with lenity.” 
 
 50 
 
 As before, the jury did not leave their box ; 
 but, after a consultation of some little time, their 
 foreman arose, and pronounced the prisoner : 
 
 “ Guilty.” 
 
 There was but little surprise manifested in the 
 court room at this verdict, as the testimony, the 
 greater part of which we have omitted, was too 
 clear and direct to be passed over. The judges 
 seemed to have anticipated this sentiment, for a 
 consultation was passing among them also, dur- 
 ing the deliberation of the jury, and the prepara- 
 tory movements of the “ bench ” announced the 
 coming sentence. 
 
 “Nathaniel Bumppo,” commenced the Judge, 
 making the customary pause. 
 
 The old hunter, who had been musing again, 
 with his head on the bar, raised himself, and 
 cried, with a prompt, military tone : 
 
 “ Here.” 
 
 The Judge waved his hand for silence, and 
 proceeded : 
 
 “ In forming their sentence, the court have 
 been governed as much by the consideration of 
 your ignorance of the laws, as by a strict sense 
 of the importance of punishing such outrages as 
 this of which you have been found guilty. They 
 have therefore passed over the obvious punish, 
 ment of whipping on the bare back, in mercy to 
 your years ; but, as the dignity of the law requires 
 an open exhibition of the consequences of your 
 crime, it is ordered, that you bo conveyed from 
 this room to the public stocks, where you are to 
 be confined for one hour : that you pay a fine to 
 the State of one hundred dollars ; and that you be 
 imprisoned in the jail of this county fpr one calen- 
 dar month, and,, furthermore, that your imprison- 
 ment do not cease until the said fine shall be paid. 
 I feel it my duty, Nathaniel Bumppo — ” 
 
 “ And where should I get the money ? ” inter- 
 rupted the Leather-stocking, eagerly ; “ where 
 should I get the money ? you’ll take away the 
 bounty on the painters, because I cut the throat 
 of a deer ; and how is an old man to find so much 
 gold or silver in the woods? No, no, Judge; 
 think better of it, and don’t talk of shutting me 
 up in a jail for the little time I have to stay.” 
 
 “ If you have any thing to urge against the 
 passing of the sentence, the court will yet hear 
 you,” said the Judge, mildly. 
 
 “ I have enough to say ag’in it,” cried Natty, 
 grasping the bar on which his fingers were work- 
 ing with a convulsed motion. “Where am I to 
 get the money ? Let me out into the woods and 
 hills, where I’ve been used to breathe the clear 
 air, and though I’m. threescore and ten, if you’ve 
 left game enough in the country, I’ll travel night 
 
162 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 und day but I’ll make you up the sum afore the 
 season is over. Yes, yes — you see the reason of 
 the thing, and the wickedness of shutting up an 
 old man, that has spent his days, as one may say, 
 where he could always look into the windows of 
 heaven.” 
 
 “ I must be governed by the law — ” 
 
 “ Talk not to me of law, Marmaduke Temple,” 
 interrupted the hunter. “ Did the beast of the 
 forest mind your laws, when it was thirsty and 
 hungering for the blood of your own child ? She 
 was kneeling to her God for a greater favor than 
 I ask, and he heard her ; and if you now say no 
 to my prayers, do you think he will be deaf? ” 
 
 “My private feelings must not enter into — ” 
 
 “ Hear me, Marmaduke Temple,” interrupted 
 the old man, with melancholy earnestness, “ and 
 hear reason. I’ve travelled these mountains 
 when ybu was no judge, but an infant in your 
 mother’s arms ; and I feel as if I had a right and 
 a privilege to travel them ag’in afore I die. Have 
 you forgot the time that you come on to the lake- 
 shore, when there wasn’t even a jail to lodge in ; 
 and didn’t I give you my own bear-skin to sleep 
 on, and the fat of a noble buck to satisfy the 
 cravings of your hunger? Yes, yes — you thought 
 it no siu then to kill a deer ! And this I did, 
 though I had no reason to love you, for you had 
 never done any thing but harm to them that loved 
 and sheltered me. And now, will you shut me 
 up in your dungeons to pay me for my kindness ? 
 A hundred dollars ! where should I get the 
 money? No, no — there’s them that says hard 
 things of you, Marmaduke Temple, but you an’t 
 so bad as to wish to see an old man die in a 
 prison, because he stood up for the right. Come, 
 
 • friend, let me pass ; it’s long sin’ I’ve been used 
 to such crowds, and I crave to be in the woods 
 ag’in. Don’t fear me, Judge — I bid you not to 
 fear me ; for if there’s beaver enough left on the 
 Btreams, or the buckskins will sell for a shilling 
 apiece, you shall have the last penny of the fine. 
 Where are ye, pups ! come away, dogs ! come 
 away ! we have a grievous toil to do for our 
 years, but it shall be done— yes, yes, I’ve promised 
 it, and it shall be done ! ” 
 
 It is unnecessary to say that the movement 
 of the Leather-stocking was again intercepted by 
 the constable ; but, before he had time to speak, 
 a bustling in the crowd, and a loud hem, drew 
 all eyes to another part of the room. 
 
 Benjamin had succeeded in edging his way 
 through the people, and was now seen balancing 
 his short body, with one foot in a window and 
 the other on a railing of the jury-box. To the 
 amazement of the whole court, the steward was 
 
 evidently preparing to speak. After a good deal 
 of difficulty, he succeeded in drawing from his 
 pocket a small bag, and then found utterance. 
 
 “If-so-be,” he said, “that your honor is 
 agreeable to trust the poor fellow out on another 
 cruise among the beasts, here’s a small matter 
 that will help to bring down the risk, seeing that 
 there’s just thirty-five of your Spaniards in it ; 
 and I wish, from the bottom of my heart, that 
 they was raal British guineas, for the sake of the 
 old boy. But ’tis as it is ; and if Squire Dickens 
 will just be so good as to overhaul this small 
 bit of an account, and take enough from the bag 
 to settle the same, he’s welcome to hold on upon 
 the rest, till such time as the Leather-stocking 
 can grapple with them said beaver, or, for that 
 matter, forever, and no thanks asked.” 
 
 As Benjamin concluded, he thrust out the 
 wooden register of his arrears to the “ Bold Dra- 
 goon ” with one hand, while he offered his bag 
 of dollars with the other. Astonishment at this 
 singular interruption produced a profound still- 
 ness in the room, which was only interrupted by 
 the sheriff, who struck his sword on the table, 
 and cried : 
 
 « Silence ! ” 
 
 “There must be an end to this,” said the 
 Judge, struggling to overcome his feelings. 
 “ Constable, lead the prisoner to the stocks. Mr. 
 Clerk, what stands next on the calendar ? ” 
 
 Natty seemed to yield to his destiny, for he 
 sank his head on his chest, and followed the offi- 
 cer from the court-room in silence. The crowd 
 moved back for the passage of the prisoner, and 
 when his tall form was seen descending from the 
 outer door, a rush of the people to the scene of 
 his disgrace followed. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 “ Ha 1 ha I look 1 he wear3 cruel garters I ” Lxab. 
 
 The punishments of the common law were 
 still known, at the time of our tale, to the people 
 of New York ; and the whipping-post, and its 
 companion, the stocks, were not yet supplanted 
 by the more merciful expedients of the public 
 prison. Immediately in front of the jail those 
 relics of the elder times were situated, as a les- 
 son of precautionary justice to the evil-doers of 
 the settlement. 
 
 Natty followed the constables to this spot, 
 bowing his head with submission to a power that 
 he was unable to oppose, and surrounded by the 
 crowd that formed a circle about his person, ex 
 
BENJAMIN’S 
 
 hibiting !n their countenances strong curiosity. 
 A constable raised the upper part of the Stocks, 
 and pointed with his finger to the holes where 
 the old man was to place his feet. Without 
 making the least objection to the punishment, 
 the Leather-stocking quietly seated himself on 
 the ground, and suffered his limbs to be laid in 
 the openings, without even a murmur; though 
 he cast one glance about him, in quest of that 
 sympathy that human nature always' seems to 
 require under suffering. If he met no direct mani- 
 festations of pity, neither did he see any unfeel- 
 ing exultation, or hear a single reproachful epi- 
 thet. The character of the mob, if it could be 
 called by such a name, was that of attentive 
 subordination. 
 
 The constable was in the act of lowering the 
 upper plank, when Benjamin, who had pressed 
 close to the side of the prisoner, said, in his 
 hoarse tones, as if seeking for some cause to 
 create a quarrel : 
 
 “ Where away, master constable, is the use 
 of clapping a man in them here bilboes ? it nei- 
 ther stops his grog nor hurts his back ; what for 
 Is it that yon do the thing ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis the sentence of the court, Mr. Penguil- 
 lium, and there’s law for it, I s’pose.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, I know that there’s law for the 
 thing ; but where away do you find the use, I 
 say ? it does no harm, and it only keeps a man 
 by the heels for the small matter of two glasses.” 
 
 “ Is it no harm, Benny Pump,” said Natty, 
 raising his eyes with a piteous look in the face 
 of the steward — “is it no harm to show off a 
 man in his seventy-first year, like a tame bear, 
 for the settlers to look on ! Is it no harm to put 
 an old soldier, that has sarved through the war 
 of ’fifty-six, and seen the inimy in the ’seventy- 
 six business, into a place like this, where the 
 boys can point at him and say, I have known the 
 time when he was a spectacle for the county ! 
 Is it no harm to bring down the pride of an 
 honest man to be the equal of the beasts of the 
 forest ! ” 
 
 Benjamin stared about him fiercely, and could 
 he have found a single face that expressed con- 
 tumely, he would have been prompt to quarrel 
 with its owner; but meeting everywhere with 
 looks of sobriety, and occasionally of commiser- 
 tion, he very deliberately seated himself by the 
 side of the hunter, and, placing his legs in the 
 fwo vacant holes of the stocks, he said : 
 
 “ Now lower aw;ay, master constable, lower 
 away, I tell ye ! If-so-be there’s such a thing here- 
 abouts as a man that vants to see a bear, let 
 him look and be d — d, and he shall find two of 
 
 GENEROSITY. 163 
 
 them, and mayhap one of the same that can bite 
 as well as growl.” 
 
 “ But I have no orders to put you in the 
 stocks, Mr. Pump,” cried the constable ; “ you 
 must get up, and let me do my duty.” 
 
 “ You’ve my orders, and what do you need 
 better to meddle with my own feet ? so lower 
 away, will ye, and let me see the man that chooses 
 to open his mouth with a grin on it.” 
 
 “ There can’t be any harm in locking up a 
 creater that will enter the pound,” said the con- 
 stable, laughing, and closing the stocks on them 
 both. 
 
 It was fortunate that this act was executed 
 with decision, for the whole of the spectators, 
 when they saw Benjamin assume the position he 
 took, felt an inclination for merriment, which few 
 thought it worth while to suppress. The steward 
 struggled violently for his liberty again, with an 
 evident intention of making battle on those who 
 stood nearest to him ; but the key was already 
 turned, and all his efforts were vain. 
 
 “ Hark ye, master constable,” he cried, “just 
 clear away your bilboes for the small matter of a 
 log-glass, will ye, and let me show some of them 
 there chaps who it is they are so merry about.” 
 
 “ No, no, you would go in, and you can’t come 
 out,” returned the officer, “until the time has ex- 
 pired that the Judge directed for the keeping of 
 the prisoner.” 
 
 Benjamin, finding that his threats and Ids 
 struggles were useless, had good sense enough to 
 learn patience from the resigned manner of his 
 companion, and soon settled himself down by the 
 side of Natty, with a contemptuousness expressed 
 in his hard features, that showed he had sub- 
 stituted disgust for rage. When the violence of 
 the steward’s feelings had in some measure sub- 
 sided, he turned to his fellow-sufFerer, and, with a 
 motive that might have vindicated a worse ef- 
 fusion, he attempted the charitable office of con- 
 solation. 
 
 “ Taking it by and large, Master Bump-ho, ’tis 
 but a small matter after all,” he said. “ Now, 
 I’ve known very good sort of men, aboard of the 
 Boadishey, laid by the heels, for nothing, mayhap, 
 but forgetting that they’d drunk their allowance 
 already, when a glass of grog has come in their 
 way. This is nothing more than riding with two 
 anchors ahead, waiting for a turn in the tide, or 
 a shift of wind, d’ye see, with a soft bottom and 
 plenty of room for the sweep of your hawse. Now 
 I’ve seen many a man, for over-shooting his reck< 
 oning, as I told ye, moored head and stam, 
 where he couldn’t go much as heave his broadside 
 round, and mayhap a stopper clapt on his tongue 
 
164 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 too, in the shape of a pump-holt lashed athwart- 
 ship his jaws, all the same as an out-rigger along- 
 side of a taffrel-rail.” 
 
 The hunter appeared to appreciate the kind 
 intentions of the other, though he could not un- 
 derstand his eloquence; and, raising his humbled 
 countenance, he attempted a smile, as he said- — 
 
 “ Anan ! ” 
 
 “ ’Tis nothing, I say, but a small matter of a 
 squall that will soon blow oyer,” . continued Ben- 
 jamin. “ To you that has such a length of keel, 
 it must be all the same as nothing; tho’f, seeing 
 that I’m a little short in my lower timbers, they’ve 
 triced my heels up in such a way as to give me a 
 bit of a cant. But what cares I, Master Bump- 
 ho, if the ship strains a little at her anchor ; its 
 only for a dog-watch, and dam’me but she’ll sail 
 with you then on that cruise after them said beaver. 
 I’m not much used to small-arms, seeing that I 
 was stationed at the ammunition-boxes, being 
 sum’mat too low-rigged to see, over the hammock- 
 cloths ; but I can carry the game, d’ye see, and 
 mayhap make out to lend a hand with the tra.ps ; 
 and if-so-be you’re any way so handy with them 
 as ye be with your boat-hook, ’twill be but a short 
 cruise after all. I’ve squared the yards with 
 Squire Dickens this morning, and I shall send him 
 word that he needn’t bear my name on the books 
 again till such time as the cruise is over.” 
 
 “You’re used to dwell with men, Benny,” 
 said Leather-stocking, mournfully, “ and the lyays 
 of the woods would be hard on you, if—” 
 
 “ Not a bit — not a bit,” cried the steward ; 
 “I’m none of your fair-weather chaps, Master 
 Bump-ho, as sails only in smooth water. When 
 I find a friend, I sticks by him, d’ye see. Now, 
 there’s no better man a-going than Squire Dickens, 
 and I love him about the same as I loves Mistress 
 Hollister’s new keg of Jamaiky.” The steward 
 paused, and turning his uncouth visage on the 
 hunter, he surveyed him with a roguish leer of 
 his eye, and gradually suffered the muscles of his 
 hard features to relax, until his face was illumi- 
 nated by the display of his white teeth, when he 
 dropped his voice, and added — “ I say, Master 
 Leather-stocking, ’tis fresher and livelier than 
 any Hollands you’ll get in Gamsey. But we’ll 
 send a hand over and ask the woman for a taste, 
 for I’m so jamb’d in these here bilboes, that I be- 
 gin to want sum’mat to lighten my upper works.” 
 
 Natty sighed, and gazed about him on the 
 crowd, that already began to disperse, and which 
 had now diminished greatly, as its members scat- 
 tered in their various pursuits. He looked wist- 
 fully at Benjamin, but did not reply ; a deeply- 
 seated anxiety seeming to absorb every other 
 
 sensation, and to throw a melancholy gloom ovei 
 his wrinkled features, which were working with 
 the movements of his mind. 
 
 The steward was about to act on the old prin- 
 ciple, that silence gives consent, when Hiram Doo- 
 little attended by Jotham, stalked out of the crowd, 
 across the open space, and approached the stocks. 
 The magistrate passed by the end where Benja- 
 min was seated, and posted himself, at a safe dis- 
 tance from the steward, in front of the Leather- 
 stocking. Hiram stood, for a moment, cowering 
 before the keen looks that Natty fastened on him, 
 and suffering under an embarrassment that was 
 quite new ; when, having in some degree recov- 
 ered himself, he looked at the heavens, and then 
 at the smoky atmosphere, as if it were only an 
 ordinary meeting with a friend, and said in his 
 formal, hesitating way : 
 
 “ Quite a scurcity of rain lately ; I some think 
 we shall have a long drought on’t.” 
 
 Benjamin was occupied in untying his bag of 
 dollars, and did not observe the approach of the 
 magistrate, while Natty turned his face, in which 
 every muscle was working, away from him in 
 disgust, without answering. Rather encouraged 
 than daunted by this exhibition of dislike, Hiram, 
 after a short pause, continued : 
 
 “ The clouds look as if they’d no water in 
 them, and the earth is dreadfully parched. To 
 my judgment, there’ll be short crops this season, 
 if the rain doesn’t fall quite speedily.” 
 
 The air with which Mr. Doolittle delivered 
 this prophetical opinion was peculiar to his species. 
 It was a jesuitical, cold, unfeeling, and selfish 
 manner, that seemed to say, “I have kept within 
 the law,” to the man he had so cruelly injured. 
 It quite overcame the restraint that the old hun- 
 ter had been laboring to impose on himself, and 
 he burst out in a warm glow of indignation. 
 
 “ Why should the rain fall from the clouds,” 
 he cried, “ when you force the tears from the eyes 
 of the old, the sick, and the poor ! Away with 
 ye — away with ye ! you may be formed in the 
 image of the Maker, but Satan dwells in your 
 heart. Away with ye, I say ! I am mournful, and 
 the sight of ye brings bitter thoughts.” 
 
 Benjamin ceased thumbing his money, and 
 raised his head at the instant that Hiram, who 
 was thrown off his guard by the invectives of the 
 hunter, unluckily trusted his person within reach 
 of the steward, who grasped one of his legs, with 
 a hand that had the grip of a vice, and whirled 
 the magistrate from his feet, before he had either 
 time to collect his senses or to exercise the 
 strength he did really possess. Benjamin wanted 
 neither proportions nor manhood in his headr 
 
A BREACH OF THE PEACE. 
 
 165 
 
 shoulders, and arms, though all the rest of his 
 frame appeared to be originally intended fora 
 very different sort of a man. He exerted his 
 physical powers on the present occasion, with 
 much discretion; and, as he had taken his antag- 
 onist at a great disadvantage, the struggle re* 
 suited, very soon, in Benjamin getting the magis- 
 trate fixed in a posture somewhat similar to his 
 own, and manfully placed face to face. 
 
 “ You’re a ship’s cousin, I tell ye, Master Doo- 
 •but-little,” roared the steward ; “ some such mat- 
 ter as a ship’s cousin, sir. I know you, I do, with 
 your fair-weather speeches to Squire Dickens, to 
 his face, and then you go and sarve out your 
 grumbling to all the old women in the town, do 
 ye. An’t it enough for any Christian, let him 
 harbor never so much malice, to get an honest 
 old fellow laid by the heels in this fashion, without 
 carrying sail so hard on the poor dog, as if you 
 would run him down as he lay at his anchors ? 
 But I’ve logged many a hard thing against your 
 name, master, and now the time’s come to foot up 
 the day’s work, d’ye see ; so square yourself, you 
 mbber, square yourself, and we’ll soon know who’s 
 the better man.” 
 
 “ Jotham ! ” cried the frightened magistrate — 
 “Jotham! call in the constables. Mr. Penguil- 
 lium, I command the peace — I order you to keep 
 the peace.” 
 
 “There’s been more peace than love atwixt 
 us, master,” cried the steward, making some very 
 unequivocal demonstrations toward hostility ; “ so 
 mind yourself! square yourself, I say! do you 
 smell this here bit of a sledge-hammer ? ” 
 
 “Lay hands on me if you dare !” exclaimed 
 Hiram, as well as he could under the grasp which 
 the steward held on his throttle — “ lay hands on 
 me if you dare ! ” 
 
 “ If you call this laying, master, you are wel- 
 come to the eggs,” roared the steward. 
 
 It becomes our disagreeable duty to record 
 here, that the acts of Benjamin now become vio- 
 lent; for he darted his sledge-hammer violently 
 on the anvil of Mr. Doolittle’s countenance, and 
 the place became in an instant a scene of tumult 
 and confusion. The crowd rushed in a dense 
 circle around- the spot, while some ran to the 
 court-room to give the alarm, and one or two of 
 the more juvenile part of the multitude had a 
 desperate trial of speed to see who should be the 
 happy man to communicate the critical situation 
 of the magistrate to his wife. 
 
 Benjamin worked away, with great industry 
 and a good deal of skill* at his occupation, using 
 one hand to raise up his antagonist, while he 
 knocked him over with the other; for he would 
 
 have been disgraced in his own estimation, had 
 he struck a blow on a fallen adversary. By this 
 considerate arrangement he had found means to 
 hammer the visage of Hiram out of all shape, by 
 the time Richard succeeded in fbrcing his way 
 through the throng to the point of combat. The 
 sheriff afterward declared that, independently of 
 his mortification, as preserver of the peace of the 
 county, at this interruption to its harmony) he 
 was never so grieved in his life, as when he saw 
 this breach of unity between his favorites; Hiram 
 had in some degree become necessary to his 
 vanity, and Benjamin, strange as it may appear, 
 he really loved. This attachment was exhibited 
 in the first words that he uttered. 
 
 “ Squire Doolittle ! Squire Doolittle ! I am 
 ashamed to see a man of your character and office 
 forget himself so much as to disturb the peace, 
 insult the court, and beat poor Benjamin in this 
 manner ! ” 
 
 At the sound of Mr. Jones’s voice, the steward 
 ceased his employment, and Hiram had an oppor- 
 tunity of raising his discomfited visage toward the 
 mediator. Emboldened by the sight of the sheriff, 
 Mr. Doolittle again had recourse to his lungs. 
 
 “ I’ll have law on you for this,” he cried, des- 
 perately ; “ I’ll have the law on you for this. I 
 call on you, Mr. Sheriff, to seize this man, and I 
 demand that you take his body into custody.” 
 
 By this time Richard was master of the true 
 state of the case, and, turning to the steward, he 
 said, reproachfully:' 
 
 “ Benjamin, how came you in the stocks ? 
 I always thought you were mild and docile as a 
 lamb. It was for your docility that I most es- 
 teemed you. Benjamin ! Benjamin ! you have not 
 only disgraced yourself, but your friends, by this 
 shameless conduct. Bless me ! bless me ! Mr. 
 Doolittle, he seems to have knocked your face all 
 of one side.” 
 
 Hiram by this time had got on his feet again, 
 and without the reach of the steward, when he 
 broke forth in violent appeals for vengeance. The 
 offence was too apparent to be passed over, and 
 the sheriff, mindful of the impartiality exhibited 
 by his cousin in the recent trial of the Leather- 
 stocking, came to the painful conclusion that it 
 was necessary to commit his major-domo to prison. 
 As the time of Natty’s punishment was expired, 
 and Benjamin found that they were to be con- 
 fined, for that night at least, in the same apart- 
 ment, he made no very strong objections to the 
 measure, nor spoke of bail, though, as the sheriff 
 preceded the party of constables that conducted 
 them to the jail, he uttered the following remon- 
 strance : 
 
166 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “As to being berthed with Master Bump-ho 
 for a night or so, it’s but little I think of it, 
 Squire Dickens, seeing that I calls him an honest 
 man, and one as has a handy way with beat- 
 hooks and rifles ; but as for owning that a man 
 desarves any thing worse than a double allow- 
 ance, for knocking that carpenter’s face a-one- 
 side, as you call it, I’ll maintain it’s ag’in reason 
 and Christianity. If there’s a bloodsucker in this 
 ’ere county, it’s that very chap. Ay! I know 
 him! and if he hasn’t got all the same as dead 
 wood in his head-works, he knows sum’mat of 
 me. Where’s the mighty harm, squire, that you 
 take it so much to heart ? It’s all the same as 
 any other battle, d’ye see, sir, being broadside to 
 broadside, only that it was fout at anchor, which 
 was what we did in Port Praya roads, when SufF- 
 ring came in among us ; and a suffering time he 
 had pf it, before he got out again.” 
 
 Richard thought it unworthy of him to make 
 any reply to this speech ; but when his prisoners 
 were safely lodged in an outer dungeon, ordering 
 the bolts to be drawn and the key turned, he 
 withdrew. 
 
 Benjamin held frequent and friendly dialogues 
 with different people, through the iron gratings, 
 during the afternoon ; but his companion paced 
 their narrow limits, in his moccasins, with quick, 
 impatient treads, his face hanging on his breast 
 in dejection, or when lifted, at moments, to the 
 idlers at the window, lighted, perhaps, for an in- 
 stant, with the childish aspect of aged forgetful- 
 ness, which would vanish directly in an expres- 
 sion of deep and obvious anxiety. 
 
 At the close of the day, Edwards was seen at 
 the window, in earnest dialogue with his friend ; 
 and after he departed it was thought that he had 
 communicated words of comfort to the hunter, 
 who threw himself on his pallet, and was soon in 
 a deep sleep. The curious spectators had ex- 
 hausted the conversation of the steward, who 
 had drunk good fellowship with half of his ac- 
 quaintance, and, as Natty was no longer in mo- 
 tion, by eight o’clock, Billy Kirby, who was the 
 last lounger at the window, retired into the 
 “ Templeton Coffee-house,” when Natty rose and 
 hung a blanket before the opening, and the 
 prisoners apparently retired for the night. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXY. 
 
 "And to awoid the foe’s pursuit, 
 
 With spurring put their cattle to’t; 
 
 And till all four were out of wind, 
 
 And danger too, ne’er looked behind.” 
 
 Hcdiexa*. 
 
 As the shades of evening approached, the ju- 
 rors, witnesses, and other attendants on the court, 
 began to disperse, and before nine o’clock the 
 village was quiet, and its streets nearly deserted. 
 At that hour Judge, Temple and his daughter, 
 followed at a short distance by Louisa Grant, 
 walked slowly down the avenue, under the slight 
 shadows of the young poplars, holding the fol- 
 lowing discourse : 
 
 “You can best soothe his wounded spirit, 
 my child,” said Marmaduke ; “ but it will be dan- 
 gerous to touch on the nature of his offence ; the 
 sanctity of the laws must be respected,” • 
 
 “ Surely, sir,” cried the impatient Elizabeth, 
 “ those laws that condemn a man like the Leath- 
 er-stocking to so severe a punishment, for an of- 
 fence that even I must think very venial, cannot 
 be perfect in themselves.” 
 
 “ Thou talkest of what thou dost not under- 
 stand, Elizabeth,” returned her father. “ Society 
 cannot exist without wholesome restraints. Those 
 restraints cannot be inflicted, without security 
 and respect to the persons of those who adminis- 
 ter them ; and it would sound ill indeed to re- 
 port, that a judge had extended favor to a con- 
 victed criminal, because he had saved the life of 
 his child.” 
 
 “ I see — I see the difficulty of your situation, 
 dear sir,” cried the daughter “ but, in apprecia- 
 ting the offence of poor Natty, I cannot separate 
 the minister of the law from the man.” 
 
 “There thou talkest as a woman, child; it is 
 not for an assault on Hiram Doolittle, but for 
 threatening the life of a constable, who was in 
 the performance of — ” 
 
 , “ It is immaterial whether it be one or the 
 other,” interrupted Miss Temple, with a logic 
 that contained more feeling than reason ; “ I 
 know Natty to be innocent, and, thinking so, I 
 must think all wrong, whp oppress him.” 
 
 “ His judge among the number ! thy father, 
 Elizabeth?” 
 
 “ Nay, nay, nay ; do not put such questions 
 to me ; give me my commission, father, and let 
 me proceed to execute it.” 
 
 The J udge paused a moment, smiling fondly 
 on his child, and then dropped his hand affec- 
 tionately on her shoulder, as he answered : 
 
 “ Thou hast reason, Bess, and much of it too, 
 
THE YOUNG LADIES’ VISIT. 
 
 167 
 
 but thy heart lies too near thy head. But lis- 
 ten : in this pocket-book are two hundred dol- 
 lars. Go to the prison — there are none in this 
 place to harm thee — give this note to the jailer, 
 and, when thou seest Bumppo, say what thou 
 wilt to the poor old man ; give scope to the feel- 
 ings of thy warm heart ; but try to remember, 
 Elizabeth, that the laws alone remove us from 
 the condition of the savages ; that he has been 
 criminal, and that his judge was thy father.” 
 
 Miss Temple made no reply, but she pressed 
 the hand that held the pocket-book to her bosom, 
 and, taking her friend by the arm, they issued to- 
 gether from the enclosure into the principal street 
 of the village. 
 
 As they pursued their walk in silence, under 
 the row of houses, where the deeper gloom of 
 the evening effectually concealed their persons, 
 no sound reached them, excepting the slow tread 
 of a yoke of oxen, with the rattling of a cart, 
 that were moving along the street in the same 
 direction with themselves. The figure of the 
 teamster was just discernible by the dim light, 
 lounging by the side of his cattle with a listless 
 air, as if fatigued by the toil of the day. At the 
 comer, where the jail stood, the progress of the 
 ladies was impeded, for a moment, by the oxen, 
 who were turned up to the side of the building, 
 and given a lock of hay, which they had carried 
 on their necks, as a reward for their patient labor. 
 The whole of this was so natural, and so common, 
 that Elizabeth saw nothing to induce a second 
 glance at the team, until she heard the teamster 
 speaking to his cattle in a low voice : 
 
 “ Mind yourself, Brindle ; will you, sir ! will 
 you ! ” 
 
 The language itself was unusual to oxen, with 
 which all who dwell in a new country are famil- 
 iar ; but there was something in the voice also, 
 that startled Miss Temple. On turning the cor- 
 ner, she necessarily approached the man, and her 
 look was enabled to detect the person of Oliver 
 Edwards, concealed under the coarse garb of a 
 teamster. Their eyes met at the same instant, 
 and, notwithstanding the gloom, and the envelop- 
 ing cloak of Elizabeth, the recognition was mu- 
 tual. 
 
 “ Miss Temple ! ” “ Mr. Edwards ! ” were ex- 
 claimed simultaneously, though a feeling that 
 seemed common to both rendered the words near- 
 ly inaudible. 
 
 “ Is it possible ! ” exclaimed Edwards, after 
 the moment of doubt had passed ; “ do I see you 
 so nigh the jail ! but you are going to the recto- 
 ry ; I beg pardon, Miss Grant, I believe ; I did 
 not recognize you at first.” 
 
 The sigh which Louisa uttered was so faint, 
 that it was only heard by Elizabeth, who replied 
 quickly : 
 
 “ We are going not only to the jail, Mr. Ed- 
 wards, but into it. We wish to show the Leath- 
 er-stocking that we do not forget his services, 
 and that at the, same time we must be just, we 
 are also grateful. I suppose you are on a similar 
 errand ; but let me beg that you will give us 
 leave to precede you ten minutes. Good-night, 
 sir; I — I — am quite sorry, Mr. Edwards, to see 
 you reduced to such labor ; I am sure my father 
 would — ” 
 
 “ I shall wait your pleasure, madam,” inter- 
 rupted the youth, coldly. “ May I beg that you 
 will not mention my being here ? ” 
 
 “ Certainly,” said Elizabeth, returning his bow 
 by a slight inclination of her head, and urging the 
 tardy Louisa forward. As they entered the jail- 
 er’s house, however, Miss Grant found leisure to 
 whisper : 
 
 “Would it not be well to offer part of your 
 money to Oliver ? half of it will pay the fine of 
 Bumppo ; and he is so unused to hardships ! I 
 am sure my father will subscribe much of his lit- 
 tle pittance, to place him in a station that is more 
 worthy of him.” 
 
 The involuntary smile that passed over the 
 features of Elizabeth was blended with an expres- 
 sion of deep and heartfelt pity. She did not re- 
 ply, however, and the appearance of the jailer 
 soon recalled the thoughts of both to the object 
 of their visit. 
 
 The rescue of the ladies, and their consequent 
 interest in his prisoner, together with the infor- 
 mal manners that prevailed in the country, all unit- 
 ed to prevent any surprise, on the part of the 
 jailer, at their request for admission to Bumppo. 
 The note of Judge Temple, however, would have 
 silenced all objections, if he had felt them, and he 
 led the way without hesitation to the apartment 
 that held the prisoners. The instant the key was 
 put into the lock, the hoarse voice of Benjamin 
 was heard, demanding — 
 
 “ Yo ! hoy ! who comes there ? ” 
 
 “ Some visitors that you’ll be glad to see,” re- 
 turned the jailer. “ What have you done to the 
 lock, that it won’t turn ? ” 
 
 “ Handsomely, handsomely, master,” cried the 
 steward ; “ I have just drove a nail into a berth 
 alongside of this here bolt, as a stopper, d’ye see, 
 so that Master Do-but-little can’t be running in 
 and breezing up another fight atwixt us ; for, to 
 my account, there’ll be but a ban-yan with me 
 soon, seeing that they’ll mulct me of my Span* 
 iards, all the same as if I’d over-flogged the lub* 
 
168 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 ber. Throw your ship into the wind, and lay by 
 for a small matter, will ye ? and I’ll soon clear a 
 passage.” 
 
 The sounds of hammering gave an assurance 
 that the steward was in earnest, and in a short 
 time the lock yielded, when the door was opened. 
 
 Benjamin had evidently been anticipating the 
 seizure of his money, for he had made frequent 
 demands on the favorite cask at the “ Bold Dra- 
 goon,” during the afternoon and evening, and was 
 now in that state which by marine imagery is 
 called “ half-seas-over.” It was no easy thing to 
 destroy the balance of the old tar by the effects 
 of liquor, for, as he expressed it himself, “ he was 
 too low-rigged not to carry sail in all weathers ; ” 
 but he was precisely in that condition which is so 
 expressively termed “muddy.” When he per- 
 ceived who the visitors were, he retreated to the 
 side of the room where his pallet lay, and, regard- 
 less of the presence of his- young mistress, seated 
 hitnself on it with an air of great sobriety, plac- 
 ing his back firmly against the wall. 
 
 “ If you undertake to spoil my locks in this 
 manner, Mr. Pump,” said the jailer, “I shall put 
 a stopper, as you call it, on your legs, and tie you 
 down to your bed.” 
 
 “ What for should ye, master ? ” grumbled 
 Benjamin ; “ I’ve rode out one squall to-day an- 
 chored by the heels, and I wants no more of 
 them. Where’s the harm of doing all the same 
 as yourself? Leave that there door free out- 
 board, and you’ll find no locking inboard, I’ll 
 promise ye.” 
 
 “ I must shut up for the night at nine,” said 
 he jailer, “ and it’s now forty-two minutes past 
 eight.” He placed the little candle on a rough 
 pine-table, and withdrew. 
 
 “ Leather-stocking ! ” said Elizabeth, when the 
 key of the door was turned on them again, “ my 
 good friend Leather-stocking ! I have come on a 
 message of gratitude. Had you submitted to the 
 Bearch, worthy old man, the death of the deer 
 would have been a trifle, and all would have been 
 well—” 
 
 “Submit to the sarch!” interrupted Natty, 
 raising his face from resting on his knees, without 
 rising from the corner where he had seated him- 
 self; “ d’ye think, gal, I would let such a varmint 
 into my hut? No, no — I wouldn’t have opened 
 the door to your own sweet countenance then. 
 But they are wilcome to sarch among the coals 
 and ashes now ; they’ll find only some such heap 
 as is to be seen at every pot-ashery in the moun- 
 tains.” 
 
 The old man dropped his face again on one 
 band, and seemed to be lost in melancholv. 
 
 “ The hut can be rebuilt, and made better 
 than before,” returned Miss Temple; “and it 
 shall be my office to see it dpne, when your im- 
 prisonment is ended.” 
 
 “ Can ye raise the dead, child? ” said Natty, 
 in a sorrowful voice : “ can ye go into the place 
 where you’ve laid your fathers, and mothers, and 
 children, and gathered together their ashes, and 
 make the same men and women of them as afore ? 
 You do not know what ’tis to lay your head for 
 more than forty years under the cover of the same 
 logs, and to look at the same things for the bet- 
 ter part of a man’s life. You are young yet, 
 child, but you are one of the most precious of 
 God’s creaters. I had a hope for ye that it might 
 come to pass, but it’s all over now ; this, put to 
 that, will drive the thing quite out of his mind for 
 ever.” , 
 
 Miss Temple must have understood the mean- 
 ing of the old man better than the other listeners ; 
 for while Louisa stood innocently by her side, 
 commiserating the griefs of the hunter, she bent 
 her head aside, so as to conceal her features. 
 The action and the feeling that caused it lasted 
 but a moment. 
 
 “ Other logs, and better, though, can be had, 
 and shall be found for you, my old defender,” she 
 continued. “ Your confinement will soon be over, 
 and, before that time arrives, I shall have a house 
 prepared for you, where you may spend the 
 close of your long and harmless life in ease and 
 plenty.” 
 
 “Ease and plenty! house!” repeated Natty, 
 slowly. “You mean well, you mean well, and I 
 quite mourn that it cannot be ; but he has seen me 
 a sight and a laughing-stock for — ” 
 
 “ Damn your stocks,” said Benjamin, flourish- 
 ing his bottle with one hand, from which he had 
 been taking hasty and repeated draughts, while 
 he made gestures of disdain with the other ; “ who 
 cares for his bilboes? there’s a leg that’s been 
 stuck up an end like a jib-boom for an hour, d’ye 
 see, and what’s it the worse for’t, ha ! canst tell 
 me, what’s it the worser, ha ! ” 
 
 “ I believe you forget, Mr. Pump, in whose 
 presence you are,” said Elizabeth. 
 
 “ Forget you, Miss Lizzy,” returned the stew- 
 ard ; “ if I do, dam’me; you are not to be forgot, 
 like Goody Prettybones, up at the big house there. 
 I say, old sharp-shooter, 6he may have pretty 
 bones, but I can’t say so much for her flesh, d’ye 
 see, for she looks somewhat like an atomy with 
 another man’s jacket on. Now, for the skin of 
 her face, it’s all the same as a new top-sail with a 
 taut bolt-rope, being snug at the leaches, but alf 
 in a bight about the inner cloths M 
 
OLIVER’S PLAN OF ESCAPE. 
 
 169 
 
 11 Peace — I command you to be silent, sir ! ” 
 said Elizabeth. 
 
 “ Ay, ay, ma’am,” returned the steward. “ You 
 didn’t say I shouldn’t drink, though.” 
 
 “ We will not speak of what is to become of 
 others,” said Miss Temple, turning again to the 
 hunter — “ but of your own fortunes, Natty. It 
 shall be my care to see that you pass the rest of 
 your days in ease and plenty.” 
 
 u Ease and plenty ! ” again repeated the Leath- 
 er-stocking; “what ease can there be to an old 
 man, who must walk a mile across the open fields, 
 before he can find a shade to hide him from a 
 scorching sun ! or what plenty is there where you 
 hunt a day, and not start a buck, or see anything 
 bigger than a mink, or maybe a stray fox ! Ah ! 
 I shall have a hard time after them very beavers, 
 for this fine. I must go low toward the Pennsyl- 
 vany line in search of the creators, maybe a hun- 
 dred mile; for they are not to be got here-away. 
 No, no — your betterments and clearings have 
 druv the knowing things out of the country ; and 
 instead of beaver-dams, which is the nater of the 
 animal, and according to Providence, you turn 
 back the waters over the low grounds with your 
 mill-dams, as if ’twas in man to stay the drops 
 from going where He wills them to go. — Benny, 
 unless you stop your hand from going so often to 
 your mouth, you won’t be ready to start when the 
 time comes.” 
 
 “Hark’ee, Master Bump-ho,” said the stew- 
 ard ; “ don’t you fear for Ben. When the watch 
 is called, set me on my legs, and give me the bear- 
 ings and the distance of where you want to steer, 
 and I’ll carry sail with the best of you, I will.” 
 
 “ The time has come now,” said the hunter, 
 listening ; “ I hear the horns of the oxen rubbing 
 ag’in the side of the jail.” 
 
 “Well, say the word, and then heave ahead, 
 shipmate,” said Benjamin. 
 
 “ You won’t betray us, gal ? ” said Natty, 
 looking simply into the face of Elizabeth — “ you 
 wont betray an old man, who craves to breathe 
 the clear air of heaven ? ” I mean no harm ; and 
 if the law says that I must pay the hundred dol- 
 lars, I’ll take the season through, but it shall be 
 forthcoming; and this good man will help me.” 
 
 “You catch them,” said Benjamin, with a 
 sweeping gesture of his arm, “ and if they get 
 away again, call me a slink, that’s all.” 
 
 “ But what mean you ? ” cried the wondering 
 Elizabeth. “ Here you must stay for thirty days ; 
 but I have the money for your fine in this purse. 
 Take it ; pay it in the morning, and summon pa- 
 tience for your month. I will come often to see 
 you, with my friend ; we will make up your clothes 
 
 with our own hands ; indeed, indeed, you shall be 
 comfortable.” 
 
 “ Would ye, children ? ” said Natty, advancing 
 across the floor with an air of kindness, and tak- 
 ing the hand of Elizabeth ; “ would ye be so kear- 
 ful of an old man, and just for* shooting a beast 
 which cost him nbthing ? Such things doesn’t 
 run in the blood, I believe, for you seem not to 
 forget a favor; Your little fingers couldn’t do 
 much on a buckskin, nor be you used to such 
 a thread as sinews. But if he hasn’t got past 
 hearing, he shall hear it and know it, that he may 
 see, like me, there is some who know how to re- 
 member a kindness.” 
 
 “ Tell him nothing,” cried Elizabeth, earnestly ; 
 “if you love me, if you regard my feelings, tell 
 him nothing. It is of yourself only I would talk, 
 and for yourself only I act. I grieve, Leather- 
 stocking, that the law requires that you should be 
 detained here so long ; but, after all, it will bo 
 only a short month, and — 
 
 “ A month ! ” exclaimed Natty, opening his 
 mouth with his usual laugh ; “ not a day, nor a night, 
 nor an hour, gal. Judge Temple may sintence, but 
 he can’t keep, without a better dungeon than this. 
 I was taken once by the French, and they put 
 sixty-two of us in a block-house, nigh hand to 
 old Frontinac ; but ’twas easy to cut through a 
 pine log to them that was used to timber.” The 
 hunter paused, and looked cautiously around the 
 room, when, laughing again, he shoved the stew- 
 ard gently from his post, and, removing the bed- 
 clothes, discovered a hole recently cut in the logs 
 with a mallet and chisel. “ It’s only a kick, and 
 the outside piece is off, and then — ” 
 
 “ Off! ay, off! ” cried Benjamin, rousing from 
 his stupor ; “ well, here’s off. Ay ! ay ! you catch 
 ’em, and I’ll hold on to them said beaver-hats.” 
 
 “I fear this lad will trouble me much,” said 
 Natty ; “ ’twill be a hard pull for the mountain, 
 should they take the scent soon, and he is not in 
 a state' of mind to run.” 
 
 “ Run ! ” echoed the steward ; “ no, sheer 
 alongside, and let’s have a fight of it.” 
 
 “ Peace ! ” ordered Elizabeth. 
 
 “ Ay, ay, ma’am.” 
 
 “ You will not leave us, surely, Leather-stock- 
 ing,” continued Miss Temple : “ I beseech you, re- 
 flect that you will be driven to the woods entirely, 
 and that you are fast getting old. Be patient for 
 a little time, when you can go abroad openly, and 
 with honor.” 
 
 “ Is there beaver to be catched here, gal ? ” 
 
 “ If not, here is money to discharge the fine, and 
 in a month you are free. See, here it is in gold.” 
 
 “ Gold ! ” said Natty, with a kind of childish 
 
170 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 curiosity ; “ it’s long sin’ I’ve seen a gold-piece. 
 We used to get the broad joes, in the old war, as 
 plenty as the bears be now. I remember there 
 was a man in Dieskau’s army, that was killed, 
 who had a dozen of the shining things sewed up 
 in his shirt. I didn’t handle them myself, but I 
 seen them cut out with my own eyes ; they was 
 bigger and brighter than them be.” 
 
 “ These are English guineas, and are yours,” 
 said Elizabeth ; “ an earnest of what shall be done 
 for you.” 
 
 “ Me ! why should you give me this treasure ? ” 
 paid Natty, looking earnestly at the maiden. 
 
 “ Why ! have you not saved my life ? did you 
 not rescue me from the jaws of the beast ? ” ex- 
 claimed Elizabeth, veiling her eyes, as if to hide 
 some hideous object from her view. 
 
 The hunter took the money, and continued 
 turning it in his hand for some time, piece by 
 piece, talking aloud during the operation. 
 
 “There’s a rifle, they say, out on the Cherry 
 Valley, that will carry a hundred rods and kill. 
 I’ve seen good guns in my day, but none quite 
 equal to that. A hundred rods with any sartainty 
 is great shooting ! Well, well — I’m old, and the 
 gun I have will answer my time. Here, child, 
 take back your gold. But the hour has come ; 
 I hear him talking to the cattle, and I must be 
 going. You won’t tell of us, gal — you won’t tell 
 of us, will ye ? ” 
 
 “ Tell of you ! ” echoed Elizabeth. “ But take 
 the money, old man ; take the money, even if 
 you go into the mountains.” 
 
 “ No, no,” said Natty, shaking his head kindly ; 
 “ I would not rob you so for twenty rifles. But 
 there’s one thing you can do for me, if ye will, 
 that no other is at hand to do.” 
 
 “ Name it — name it.” 
 
 “Why, it’s only to buy a canister of powder 
 — ’twill cost two silver dollars. Benny Pump has 
 the money ready, but we daren’t come into the 
 town to get it. Nobody has it but the French- 
 man. ’Tis of the best, and just suits a rifle. Will 
 you get it for me, gal ? — say, will you get it for 
 me ? ” 
 
 “ Will I ? I will bring it to you, Leather- 
 stocking, though I toil a day in quest of you 
 through the woods. But where shall I find you, 
 and how ? ” 
 
 “ Where ? ” said Natty, musing a moment — 
 “ to-morrow, on the Vision ; on the very top of 
 the Vision, I’ll meet you, child, just as the sun 
 gets over our heads. See that it’s the fine grain ; 
 you’ll know it by the gloss and the price.” 
 
 “ I will do it,” said Elizabeth, firmly. 
 
 Natty now seated himself, and, placing his 
 
 feet in the hole, with a slight effort he opened a 
 passage through into the street. The ladies 
 heard the rustling of hay, and well understood 
 the reason why Edwards was in the capacity of a 
 teamster. 
 
 “ Come, Benny,” said the hunter ; “ ’twill be 
 no darker to night, for the moon will rise in an 
 hour.” 
 
 “ Stay ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth ; “ it should not 
 be said that you escaped in the presence of the 
 daughter of Judge Temple. Return, Leather- 
 stocking, and let us retire, before you execute 
 your plan.” 
 
 Natty was about to reply, when the approach- 
 ing footsteps of the jailer announced the neces- 
 sity of his immediate return. He had barely 
 time to regain his feet, and to conceal the hole 
 with the bed clothes, across which Benjamin very 
 opportunely fell, before the key was turned, and 
 the door of the apartment opened. 
 
 “ Isn’t Miss Temple ready to go ? ” said the 
 civil jailer : “ it’s the usual hour for locking up.” 
 
 “ I follow you, sir,” returned Elizabeth ; 
 “ good-night, Leather-stocking.” 
 
 “ It’s, a fine grain, gal, and I think ’twill carry 
 lead further than common. I am getting old, and 
 can’t follow up the game with the step that I 
 used to could.” 
 
 Miss Temple waved her hand for silence, and 
 preceded Louisa and the keeper from the apart- 
 ment. The man turned the key once, and ob- 
 served that he would return and secure his prison- 
 ers, when he had lighted the ladies to the street. 
 Accordingly, they parted at the door of the build- 
 ing, when the jailer retired to his dungeons, and 
 the ladies walked, with throbbing hearts, toward 
 the corner. 
 
 “Now the Leather-stocking refuses the 
 money,” whispered Louisa, “it can all be given 
 to Mr. Edwards, and that added to — ” 
 
 “ Listen ! ” said Elizabeth ; “ I hear the rust- 
 ling of the hay ; they are escaping at this moment. 
 Oh ! they will be detected instantly ! ” 
 
 By this time they were at the corner, where 
 Edwards and Natty were in the act of drawing 
 the almost helpless body of Benjamin through the 
 aperture. The oxen had started back from their 
 hay, and were standing with their heads down 
 the street, leaving room for the party to act in. 
 
 “ Throw the hay into the cart,” said Edwards, 
 “ or they will suspect how it has been done 
 Quick, that they may not see it.” 
 
 Natty had just returned from executing this or- 
 der, when the light of the keeper’s candle shone 
 through the hole, and instantly his voice was 
 heard in the jail, exclaiming for his prisoners, 
 
THE VILLAGE ALARMED. 
 
 1?X 
 
 “ What is to be done now ? ” said Edwards — 
 " this drunken fellow will cause our detection, 
 and we have not a moment to spare.” 
 
 “Who’s drunk, ye lubber I” muttered the 
 Steward. 
 
 “ A break-jail 1 a break-jail I ” shouted five or 
 Six voices from within. 
 
 “We must leave him,” said Edwards. 
 
 “ ’Twouldn’t be kind, lad,” returned Natty ; 
 “ he took half the disgrace of the stocks on him- 
 uelf to-day, and the creater has feeling.” 
 
 At this moment two or three men were heard 
 issuing from the door of the “ Bold Dragoon,” 
 and among them the voice of Billy Kirby. 
 
 “ There’s no moon yet,” cried the wood-chop- 
 per; “but it’s a clear night. Come, who’s for 
 homo ? Hark ! what a rumpus they’re kicking 
 up in the jail — here’s go and see what it’s about.” 
 
 “We shall be lost,” said Edwards, “ if we don’t 
 drop this man.” 
 
 At that instant Elizabeth moved close to him f 
 and said rapidly, in a low voice : 
 
 “ Lay him in the cart, and start the oxen ; no 
 one will look there.” 
 
 “ There’s a woman’s quickness in the thought,” 
 said the youth. 
 
 The proposition was no sooner made than 
 executed. The steward was seated on the hay, 
 and enjoined to hold his peace, and apply the 
 goad that was placed in his hand, while the oxen 
 were urged on. So soon as this arrangement was 
 completed, Edwards and the hunter stole along 
 the houses for a short distance, when they dis- 
 appeared through an opening that led into the 
 rear of the buildings. The oxen were in brisk mo- 
 tion, and presently the cries of pursuit were heard in 
 the street. The ladies quickened their pace, with 
 a wish to escape the crowd of constables and 
 idlers that were approaching, some execrating, 
 and some laughing at the exploit of the prisoners. 
 In the confusion, the voice of Kirby was plainly 
 distinguishable above all the others, shouting and 
 Bwearing that he would have the fugitives, threat- 
 ening to bring back Natty in one pocket, and Ben- 
 jamin in the other. 
 
 V Spread yourselves, men,” he cried, as he 
 passed the ladies, his heavy feet sounding along 
 the street like the tread of a dozen; “spread 
 yourselves; to the mountains; they’ll be in the 
 mountain m a quarter of an hour, and then look 
 out for a long rifle.” 
 
 His cries were echoed from twenty mouths, 
 for not only the jail, but the taverns had sent 
 forth their numbers, some earnest in the pursuit, 
 and others joining it as in sport. 
 
 As Elizabeth turned in at her father’s gate, 
 
 she saw the wood-chopper stop at the cart, when 
 she gave Benjamin up for lost. While they were 
 hurrying up the walk, two figures, stealing cau- 
 tiously but quickly under the shades of the trees, 
 met the eyes of the ladies, and in a moment Ed- 
 wards and the hunter crossed their path. 
 
 “ Miss Temple, I may never see you again,” 
 exclaimed the youth ; “ let me thank you for all 
 your kindness ; you do not, cannot know, my 
 motives.” 
 
 “ Fly ! fly ! ” cried Elizabeth : “ the village is 
 
 alarmed. Do not be found conversing with me at 
 such a moment, and in these grounds.” , 
 
 “ Nay, I must speak, though detection were 
 certain.” 
 
 “Your retreat to the bridge is already cut off; 
 before you can gain the wood your pursuers will 
 be there. — If — ” 
 
 “ If what ?” cried the youth. “Your advice 
 has saved me once already ; I will follow it to 
 death.” 
 
 “ The street is now silent and vacant,” said 
 Elizabeth, after a pause ; “ cross it, and you will 
 find my father’s boat in the lake. It would be easy 
 to land from it where you please in the hills.” 
 
 “But Judge Temple might complain of the 
 trespass.” 
 
 “ His daughter shall be accountable, sir.” 
 
 The youth uttered something in a low voice, 
 that was heard only by Elizabeth, and turned to 
 execute what she had suggested. As they were 
 separating, Natty approached the females, and 
 said : 
 
 “You’ll remember the canister of powder, 
 children. Them beavers must be had, and I and 
 the pups be getting old; we want the best of 
 ammunition.” 
 
 “ Come, Natty,” said Edwards, impatiently. 
 
 “ Coming, lad, coming. God bless you, young 
 ones, both of ye, for ye mean well and kindly to 
 the old man.” 
 
 The ladies paused until they had lost sight of 
 the retreating figures, when they immediately 
 entered the mansion-house. 
 
 While this scene was passing in the walk, 
 Kirby had overtaken the cart, which was his own, 
 and had been driven by Edwards, without asking 
 the owner, from the place where the patient oxen 
 usually stood at evening, waiting the pleasure of 
 their master. 
 
 “Woa — come hither, Golden,” he cried; 
 “ why, how come you off the end of the bridge, 
 where I left you, dummies ? ” 
 
 “ Heave ahead,” muttered Benjamin, giving a 
 random blow with his lash, that alighted on th® 
 shoulder of the other. 
 
172 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “ Who the devil be you ? ” cried Billy, turn- 
 ing round in surprise, but unable to distinguish, 
 in the dark, the hard visage that was just peering 
 over the cart-rails. 
 
 “Who be I? why I’m helmsman aboard of 
 this here Craft, d’ye See, and a straight wake I’m 
 making of it. Ay, ay ! I’ve got the bridge right 
 ahead, and the bilboes dead-aft ; I calls that good 
 steerage, boy. Heave ahead.” 
 
 “ Lay your lash in the right spot, Mr. Benny 
 Pump,” said the wood-chopper, “ or I’ll put you 
 in the palm of my hand, and box your ears. 
 Where be you going with my team ? ” 
 
 “ Team ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, my cart and oxen.” 
 
 “ Why, you must know, Master Kirby, that 
 the Leather-stocking ’and 1 — that’s Benny Pump 
 — you knows Ben ? — well, Benny and I — no, me 
 and Benny; dam’me if I know how ’tis; but 
 some of us are bound after a cargo of beaver- 
 skins, d’ye see, and so we’ve pressed the cart to 
 ship them ’ome in. I say, Master Kirby, what a 
 lubberly oar you pull — you handle an oar, boy, 
 pretty much as a cow would a musket, or a lady 
 would a marling-spike.” 
 
 Billy had discovered the state of the steward’s 
 mind, and he walked for some time alongside of 
 the cart, musing with himself, when he took the 
 goad from Benjamin (who fell back on the hay 
 and was soon asleep), and drove his cattle down 
 the street, over the bridge, and up the mountain, 
 toward a clearing, in which he was to work the 
 next day, without any other interruption than a 
 few hasty questions from parties of the con- 
 stables. 
 
 Elizabeth stood for an hour at the window of 
 her room, and saw the torches of the pursuers 
 gliding along the side of the mountain, and heard 
 their shouts and alarms ; but, at the end of that 
 time, the last party returned, wearied and dis- 
 appointed, and the village became as still as when 
 she issued from the gate on her mission to the 
 jail. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXYI. 
 
 “And I could weep th’ Oneida chief ' 
 
 His descant wildly thus begun — 
 
 “But that I may not stain with grief 
 The death-song of my father’s son.” 
 
 Geetbude of 'Wyoming. 
 
 It was yet early on the following morning, 
 when Elizabeth and Louisa met by appointment, 
 and proceeded to the store of Monsieur Le Quoi, 
 In order to redeem the pledge the former had 
 
 given to the Leather-stocking. The people were 
 again assembling for the business of the day, but 
 the hour was too soon for a crowd, and the ladies 
 found the place in possession of its polite owner, 
 Billy Kirby, one female customer, and the boy 
 who did the duty of helper or clerk. 
 
 Monsieur Le Quoi was perusing a packet of 
 letters with manifest delight, while the wood-chop- 
 per, with one hand thrust in his bosom, and the 
 other in the folds of his jacket, holding an axe 
 under his right arm, stood sympathizing in the 
 Frenchman’s pleasure with good-natured interest. 
 The freedom of manners that prevailed in the 
 new settlements commonly levelled all difference in 
 rank, and with it, frequently, all considerations 
 of education and intelligence. At the time the 
 ladies entered the store, they were unseen by the 
 owner, who was saying to Kirby : 
 
 “ Ah ! ha ! Monsieur Beel, dis lettair mak me 
 de most happi of mans. Ah ! ma ch&re France ! 
 I vill see you aga’n.” 
 
 “ I rejoice, monsieur, at any thing that con- 
 tributes to your happiness,” said Elizabeth, “ but 
 hope we are not going to lose you entirely.” 
 
 The complaisant shopkeeper changed the lan- 
 guage to French, and recounted rapidly to Eliza- 
 beth his hopes of being permitted to return to 
 his own country. Habit had, however, so far 
 altered the manners of this pliable personage, 
 that he continued to serve the wood-chopper, who 
 was in quest of some tobacco, while he related to 
 his more gentle visitor the happy change that had 
 taken place in the dispositions of his own coun- 
 trymen. 
 
 The amount of it all was, that Mr. Le Quoi, 
 who had fled from his own country more through 
 terror than because he was offensive to the rul- 
 ing powers in France, had Succeeded at length in 
 getting an assurance that his return to the West 
 Indies would be unnoticed ; and the Frenchman, 
 wh6 had sunk into the character of a country 
 shopkeeper with so much grace, was about to 
 emerge again from his obscurity into his proper 
 level in society. 
 
 We need not repeat the civil things that 
 passed between the parties on this occasion, nor 
 recount the endless repetitions of sorrow that the 
 delighted Frenchman expressed, at being com- 
 pelled to quit the society of Miss Temple. Eliza- 
 beth took an opportunity, during this expendi- 
 ture of polite expressions, to purchase the pow- 
 der privately of the boy, who bore the generic 
 appellation of Jonathan. Before they parted, 
 how'ever, Mr. Le Quoi, who seemed to think that 
 he had not said enough, solicited the honor of a 
 private interview with the heiress, with a gravity 
 
MISS TEMPLE’S PROMISE. 
 
 173 
 
 In his air that announced the importance of the 
 subject. After conceding the favor, and appoint- 
 ing a more favorable time for the meeting, Eliza- 
 beth succeeded in getting out of the store, into 
 which the countrymen now began to enter, as 
 usual, where they met with the same attention 
 and bienseance as formerly. 
 
 Elizabeth and Louisa pursued their walk as 
 far as the bridge in profound silence ; but when 
 they reached that place, the latter stopped, and 
 appeared anxious to utter something that . her 
 diffidence suppressed. 
 
 “Are you ill, Louisa? ” exclaimed Miss Tem- 
 ple ; “ had we pot better return, and seek anoth- 
 er opportunity to meet the old man ? ” 
 
 “ Not ill, but terrified. Oh ! I never, never 
 can go on that hill again with you only. I am 
 not equal to, it, indeed I am not.” 
 
 This was an unexpected declaration to Eliza- 
 beth, who, although she experienced no idle ap- 
 prehension of a danger that no longer existed, 
 felt most sensitively all the delicacy of maiden 
 modesty. She stood for some time, deeply re- 
 flecting within herself; but, sensible it was a 
 time for action instead of reflection,, she strug- 
 gled to shake off her hesitation, and replied 
 firmly : 
 
 “ Well, then it must be done by me alone. 
 There is no other than yourself to be trusted, or 
 poor old Leather-stocking will be discovered. 
 Wait, for me in the edge of these woods, that at 
 ieast I may not be seen strolling in the hills by 
 myself just now. One would not wish to create 
 remarks, Louisa — if — if — You will wait for me, 
 dear girl ? ” 
 
 “ A year, in sight of the village, Miss Tem- 
 ple,” returned the agitated Louisa, “ but do not, 
 do not ask me to go on that hill.” 
 
 Elizabeth found that her companion was 
 really unable to proceed, and they completed 
 their arrangement by posting Louisa out of the 
 observation of the people who occasionally passed, 
 but nigh the road, and in plain view of the whole 
 valley. Miss Temple then proceeded alone. She 
 ascended the road which has been so often men- 
 tioned in our narrative, with an elastic and firm 
 step, fearful that the delay in the store of Mr. 
 Le Quoi, and the time necessary for reaching the 
 summit, would prevent her being punctual to the 
 appointment. Whenever she passed an opening 
 in the bushes, she would pause for breath, or, 
 perhaps, drawn from her pursuit by the picture 
 at her feet, would linger a moment to gaze at 
 the beauties of the valley. The long drought 
 hrd, however, changed its coat of verdure to a 
 hue of brown, and, though the same localities 
 
 were there, the view wanted the lively and cheer- 
 ing aspect of early summer. Even the heavens 
 seemed to share in the dried appearance of the 
 earth, for the sun was concealed by a haziness 
 in the atmosphere, which looked like a thin smoke 
 without a particle of moisture, if such a thing 
 were possible. The blue sky was scarcely to be 
 seen, though now and then there /was a faint 
 lighting up in spots, through which masses of 
 rolling vapor could be discerned gathering around 
 the horizon, as if nature were struggling to col- 
 lect her floods for the relief of man. The very 
 atmosphere that Elizabeth inhaled was hot and 
 dry, and, by the time she reached the point where 
 the course led her from the highway, she experi- 
 enced a sensation like suffocation. But, disre- 
 garding her feelings, she hastened to execute her 
 mission, dwelling on nothing but the disappoint- 
 ment, and even the helplessness, the hunter would 
 experience, without her aid. 
 
 On the summit of the mountain which Judge 
 Temple had named the “Vision,” a little spot 
 had been cleared, in order that a better view 
 might be obtained of the village and the valley. 
 At this point Elizabeth understood the hunter 
 she was to meet him ; and thither she urged her 
 way, as expeditiously as the difficulty of the as- 
 cent, and the impediment of a forest, in a state 
 of nature, would admit. Numberless were the 
 fragments of rocks, trunks of fallen trees, and 
 branches, with which she had to contend ; but 
 every difficulty vanished before her resolution, and, 
 by her own watch, she stood on the desired spot 
 several minutes before the appointed hour. 
 
 After resting a moment on the end of a log, 
 Miss Temple cast a glance about her in quest of 
 her old friend, but he was evidently not in the 
 clearing ; she arose and walked around its skirts, 
 examining every place where she thought it prob- 
 able Natty might deem it prudent to conceal him- 
 self. Her search was fruitless; and, after ex- 
 hausting not only herself, but her conjectures, in 
 efforts to discover or imagine his situation, she 
 ventured to trust her voice in that solitary place. 
 
 “ Natty ! Leather-stocking ! old man ! ” she 
 called aloud, in every direction ; but no answer 
 was given, excepting the reverberations of her 
 own clear tones, as they were echoed in the 
 parched forest. 
 
 Elizabeth approached the brow of the moun- 
 tain, where a faint cry, like the noise produced 
 by striking the hand against the mouth, at the 
 same time that the breath is strongly exhaled, was 
 heard answering to her own voice. Not doubting 
 in the ifeast that it was the Leather-stocking lying 
 in wait for her, and who gave that signal to indi- 
 
174 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 cate the place where he was to be found, Eliza- 
 Deth descended for near a hundred feet, until she 
 gained a little natural terrace, thinly scattered 
 with trees, that grew in the fissures of the rocks, 
 which were covered by a scanty soil. She had 
 advanced to the edge of this platform, and was 
 gazing over the perpendicular precipice that 
 formed its face, when a rustling among the dry 
 leaves near her drew her eyes in another direc- 
 tion. Our heroine certainly was startled by the 
 object that she then saw, but a moment restored 
 her self-possession, and she advanced firmly, and 
 with some interest in her manner, to the spot. 
 
 Mohegan was seated on the trunk of a fallen 
 oak, with his tawny visage turned toward her, 
 and his eyes fixed on her face with an expression 
 of wildness and fire, that would have terrified a 
 less resolute female. His blanket had fallen from 
 his shoulders, and was lying in folds around him, 
 leaving his breast, arms, and most of his body 
 bare. The medallion of Washington reposed on 
 his chest, a badge of distinction that Elizabeth 
 well knew he only produced on great and solemn 
 occasions. But the whole appearance of the aged 
 chief was more studied than common, and in some 
 particulars it was terrific. The long black hair 
 was plaited on his head, falling away, so as to 
 expose his high forehead and piercing eyes. In 
 the enormous incisions of his ears were entwined 
 ornaments of silver, beads, and porcupine’s quills, 
 mingled in a rude taste, and after the Indian fash- 
 ions. A large drop, composed of similar materi- 
 als, was suspended from the cartilage of his nose, 
 and, falling below his lips, rested on his chin. 
 Streaks of red paint crossed his wrinkled brow, 
 and were traced .down his cheeks, with such va- 
 riations in the lines as caprice or custom suggest- 
 ed. His body was also colored in the same man- 
 ner ; the whole exhibiting an Indian warrior, 
 prepared for some event Of more than usual mo- 
 ment. 
 
 “John ! how fare you, worthy John ? ” said 
 Elizabeth, as she approached him ; “ you have long 
 been a stranger in the village. You promised me 
 a willow basket, and I have long had a shirt of 
 calico in readiness for you.” 
 
 The Indian looked steadily at her for some 
 time without answering, and then, shaking his 
 head, he replied, in his low, guttural tones : 
 
 “ John’s hand can make baskets no more— he 
 wants no shirt.” 
 
 “ But if he should, he will know where to come 
 for it,” returned Miss Temple. “Indeed, old 
 John, I feel as if you had a natural right to order 
 what you will from us.” 
 
 "Daughter,” said the Indian, “listen: 
 
 times ten hot summers have passed since John 
 was young; tall like a pine ; straight like the bullet 
 of Hawk-eye ; strong as a buffalo ; spry as the cat 
 of the mountain. He was strong, and a warrior like 
 the Young Eagle. If his tribe wanted to track the 
 Maquas for many suns, the eye of Chingachgook 
 found the print of their moccasins. If the people 
 feasted and were glad, as they counted the scalps 
 of their enemies, it was on his pole they hung. If 
 the squaws cried because there was no meat for 
 their children, he was the first in the chase. His 
 bullet was swifter than the deer.— Daughter, then 
 Chingachgook struck his tomahawk into the 
 trees ; it was to tell the lazy ones where to 
 find him and the Mingoes — but he made no 
 baskets.” 
 
 “ Those times have gone by, old warrior,” re- 
 turned Elizabeth ; “ since then your people hav* 
 disappeared, and, in place of chasing your ene- 
 mies, you have learned to fear God and to live at 
 peace.” 
 
 “ Stand here, daughter, where you can see the 
 great spring; the wigwams of your father, and the 
 : land on the crooked river. John was young when 
 his tribe gave away the country, in council, from 
 where the blue mountain stands above the water, 
 to where the Susquehanna is hid by the trees. All 
 this, and all that grew in it, and all that walked 
 over it, and all that fed there, they gave to the Fire- 
 eater — for they loved him. He was strong, and 
 they were women, and he helped them. No Dela- 
 ware would kill a deer that ran in his woods, nor 
 stop a bird that flew over his land ; for it was his. 
 Has John lived in peace ? Daughter, since John 
 was young, he has seen the white man from Fron- 
 tinac come down on his white brothers at Albany 
 and fight. Did they fear God ? He has seen his 
 English and his American fathers burying their 
 tomahawks in each other’s brains, for this very 
 land. Did they fear God, and live in peace ? He 
 has seen the land pass away from the Fire-eater, 
 and his children, and the child of his child, and a 
 new chief set over the country. Did they live in 
 peace who did this ? did they fear God ? ” 
 
 "Such is the custom of the whites, John. Do 
 not the Delawares fight, and exchange their lands 
 for powder, and blankets, and merchandise ? ” 
 
 The Indian turned his dark eyes on his com - 
 panion, and kept them there with a scrutiny that 
 alarmed her a little. 
 
 “Where are the bankets and merchandise 
 that bought the right of the Fire-eater ? ” he re- 
 plied, in a more animated voice; “are they with 
 him in his wigwam? Did they say to him, 
 Brother, sell us your land, and take this gold, this 
 Six I silver, these blankets, these rifles, or even this 
 
INTERVIEW WITH INDIAN JOHN. 
 
 175 
 
 rum ? No ; they tore it from him, as a scalp is 
 torn from an enemy ; and they that did it looked 
 not behind them, to see whether he lived or died. 
 Do such men live in peace, and fear the Great 
 Spirit ? ” 
 
 “But you hardly understand the circum- 
 stances,” said Elizabeth, more embarrassed than 
 she would own, even to herself. “ If you knew our 
 laws and customs better, you would judge differ- 
 ently of our acts. Do not believe evil of my 
 father, old Mohegan, for he is just and good.” 
 
 “ The brother of Miquon is good, and he will 
 do right! I have said it to Hawk-eye — I have 
 said it to the Young Eagle, that the brother of 
 Miquon would do justice.” 
 
 “ Whom call you the Young Eagle ? ” said 
 Elizabeth, averting her face from the gaze of the 
 Indian, as she asked the question; “whence 
 comes he, and what are his rights ? ” 
 
 “ Has my daughter lived so long with him to 
 ask this question? ” returned the Indian warily. 
 “ Old age freezes up the blood, as the frosts cover 
 the great spring in winter ; but youth keeps the 
 streams of the blood open like a sun in the time 
 of blossoms. The Young Eagle has eyes ; had he 
 no tongue ? ” 
 
 The loveliness to which the old warrior alluded 
 was in no degree diminished by his allegorical 
 speech ; for the blushes of the maiden who listen- 
 ed covered her burning cheeks, till her dark eyes 
 seemed to glow with their reflection ; but, after 
 struggling a moment with shame, she laughed, as 
 If unwilling to understand him seriously, and re- 
 plied in pleasantry : 
 
 “ Not to make me the mistress of his secret. 
 He is to much of a Delaware to tell his secret 
 thoughts to a woman.” 
 
 “ Daughter, the Great Spirit made your father 
 with a white skin, and he made mine with a red ; 
 but he colored both their hearts with blood. 
 When young, it is swift and warm ; but when old, 
 it is still and cold. Is there difference V elow the 
 skin? No. Once John had a woman. She was 
 the mother of so many sons” — he raised his hand 
 with three fingers elevated — “ and she had daugh- 
 ters that would have made the young Delawares 
 happy. She was kind, daughter, and what I said 
 she did. You have different fashions ; but do you 
 think John did not love the wife of his youth — 
 the mother of his children ? ” 
 
 “ And what has become of your family, John, 
 your wife and your children ? ” asked Elizabeth, 
 touched by the In lian’s manner. 
 
 “ Where is the ice that covered the great 
 spring ? It is melted, and gone with the waters. 
 John has lived till all his people have left him for 
 
 the lands of spirits ; Us time 6as come, and he ia 
 ready.” 
 
 Mohegan dropped his head in his blanket, and 
 sat in silence. Miss Temple knew not what to 
 say. She wished to draw the thoughts of the old 
 warrior from his gloomy recollections, but there 
 was a dignity in his sorrow, and in his fortitude, 
 that repressed her efforts to speak. After a long 
 pause, however, she renewed the discourse by 
 asking : 
 
 “Where is the Leather-stocking, John ? I 
 have brought this canister of powder at his re- 
 quest ; but he is nowhere to be seen. Will you 
 take charge of it, and see it delivered ? ” 
 
 The Indian raised his head slowly, and looked 
 earnestly at the gift, which she put into his 
 hand. 
 
 “ This is the great enemy of my nation. With- 
 out this, when could the white men drive the 
 Delawares ? Daughter, the Great Spirit gave 
 your fathers to know how to make guns and 
 powder, that they might sweep the Indians from 
 the land. There will soon be no red-skin in the 
 country. When John has gone, the last will leave 
 these hills, and his family will be dead.” The 
 aged warrior stretched his body forward, leaning 
 an elbow on his knee, and appeared to be taking 
 a parting look at the objects of the vale, which 
 were still visible through the misty atmosphere, 
 though the air seemed to thicken at each moment 
 around Miss Temple, who became conscious of an 
 increased difficulty of respiration. The eye of 
 Mohegan changed gradually from its sorrowful 
 expression to a look of wildness that might be 
 supposed to border on the inspiration of a 
 prophet, as he continued — “ But he will go to the 
 country where his fathers have met. The game 
 shall be plenty as the fish in the lakes. No woman 
 shall cry for meat; no Mingo can ever come. 
 The chase shall be for children ; and all just red 
 men shall live together as brothers.” 
 
 “ John ! this is not the heaven of a Chris- 
 tian,” cried Miss Temple ; “ you deal now in the 
 superstition of your forefathers.” 
 
 “Fathers! sons!” said Mohegan with firm- 
 ness — “ all gone — all gone ! — I have no son but 
 the Young Eagle, and he has the blood of a white 
 man.” 
 
 “ Tell me, John,” said Elizabeth, willing to 
 draw his thoughts to other subjects, and at the 
 same time yielding to her own powerful interest in 
 the youth ; “ who is this Mr. Edwards ? why are 
 you so fond of him, and whence does he come ? ” 
 
 The Indian started at the question, which 
 evidently recalled his recollection to earth. 
 Taking her hand, he drew Miss Temple to a seat 
 
176 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 beside him, and pointed to the country beneath 
 them : 
 
 “See, daughter,” he said, directing her looks 
 toward the north ; “ as far as your young eyes 
 can see, it was the land of his — ” 
 
 But immense volumes of smoke at that mo- 
 ment rolled over their heads, and, whirling in the 
 eddies formed by the mountains, interposed a 
 barrier to their sight, while he was speaking. 
 Startled by this circumstance, Miss Temple sprang 
 on her feet, and, turning her eyes toward the sum- 
 mit of the mountain, she beheld it covered by a 
 similar canopy, while a roaring sound was heard 
 in the forest above her like the rushing of winds. 
 
 “What means it, John!” she exclaimed; 
 “ we are enveloped in smoke, and I feel a heat 
 like the glow of a furnace.” 
 
 Before the Indian could reply, a voice was 
 heard crying in the woods : 
 
 “ John ! where are you, old Mohegan ! the 
 woods are on fire, and you have but a minute for 
 escape.” 
 
 The chief put his hand before his mouth, and, 
 making it play on his lips, produced the kind of 
 noise that had attracted Elizabeth to the place, 
 when a quick and hurried step was heard dash- 
 ing through the dried underbrush and bushes, 
 and presently Edwards rushed to his side* with 
 horror in every feature. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 “ Love rules the court, the camp, the grove.” 
 
 Lay of the Last MeRstrel. 
 
 “It would have been gad, indeed, to lose you 
 in auch a manner, my old friend,” said Oliver, 
 catching his breath for utterance. “Up and 
 away ! even now we may be too late ; the flames 
 are circling round the point of the rock below, 
 and, unless we can pass there, our only chance 
 must be over the precipice., Away ! away ! shake 
 off your apathy, John ; now is the time of need.” 
 
 Mohegan pointed toward Elizabeth, who, for- 
 getting her danger, had sunk back to a projec- 
 tion of the rock as soon as she recognized the 
 sounds of Edwards’s voice, and said with some- 
 thing like awakened animation : 
 
 “ Save her — leave John to die.” 
 
 “Her ! whom mean you?” cried the youth, 
 turning quickly to the place the other indicated ; 
 but whm. he saw the figure of Elizabeth bend- 
 ing toward him in an attitude that powerfully 
 spoke terror, blended with reluctance to meet 
 him in such a place, the shock deprived him of 
 speech. 
 
 “ Miss Temple * ” he cried, when he found 
 words ; “ you here ! is such a death reserved for 
 you ! ” 
 
 “ No, no, no — no death, I hope, for any of us, 
 Mr. Edwards,” she replied, endeavoring to speak 
 calmly : “ there is smoke, but no fire to harm us. 
 Let us endeavor to retire.” 
 
 “ Take my arm,” said Edwards ; “there must 
 be an opening in some direction for your retreat. 
 Are you equal to the effort ? ” 
 
 “ Certainly. You surely magnify the danger, 
 Mr. Edwards. Lead me out the way you came.” 
 
 “ I will — I will,” cried the youth, with a kind 
 of hysterical utterance. “ No, no — there is no 
 danger — I have alarmed you unnecessarily.” 
 
 “But shall we leave the Indian — can we leave 
 him, as he says, to die ? ” 
 
 An expression of painful emotion crossed the 
 face of the young man ; he stopped, and cast a 
 longing look at Mohegan; but, dragging his 
 companion after him, even against her will, he 
 pursued his way with enormous strides toward 
 the pass by which he had just entered the circle 
 of flame. 
 
 “ Do not regard him,” he said, in those tones 
 that denote a desperate calmness; “he is used 
 to the woods, and such scenes ; and he will es- 
 cape up the mountain — over the rock- — or he can 
 remain where he is in safety.” 
 
 “ You thought not so this moment, Edwards ! 
 Do not leave him there to meet with such a 
 death,” cried Elizabeth, fixing a look on the 
 countenance of her conductor that seemed to dis- 
 trust his sanity. 
 
 “ An Indian burn ! who ever heard of an In- 
 dian dying by fire ? an Indian cannot burn ; the 
 idea is ridiculous. Hasten, hasten, Miss Temple, 
 or the smoke may incommode you.” 
 
 “ Edwards ! your look, your eye, terrifies me I 
 tell me the danger ; is it greater than it seems ? 
 I am equal to any trial.” 
 
 “If we reach the point of yon rock before 
 that sheet of fire, we are safe, Miss Temple!” 
 exclaimed the young man, in a voice that burst 
 without the bounds of his forced composure. 
 “ Fly ! the struggle is for life ! ” 
 
 The place of the interview between Miss Tem- 
 ple and the Indian has already been described as 
 one of those platforms of rock, which form a 
 sort of terrace in the mountains of that country, 
 and the face of it, we have said, was both high 
 and perpendicular. Its shape was nearly a natu- 
 ral arc, the ends of which blended with the moun- 
 tain, at points where its sides were less abrupt in 
 their descent. It was round one of these termi- 
 nations of the sweep of the rock that Edwards 
 
THE WOODS ON FIRE. 
 
 177 
 
 had ascended, and it was toward the same place 
 that he urged Elizabeth to a desperate exertion 
 of speed. 
 
 Immense clouds of white smoke had been 
 pouring over the summit of the mountain, and 
 had concealed the approach and ravages of the 
 element ; but a crackling sound drew the eyes of 
 Miss Temple, as she flew oyer the ground, sup- 
 ported by the young man, toward the outline of 
 smoke, where she already perceived the waving 
 flames shooting forward from the vapor, now 
 flaring high in the air, and then bending to the 
 earth, seeming to light into combustion every 
 stick and shrub on which they breathed. The 
 sight aroused them to redoubled efforts ; but, 
 unfortunately, a collection ,of the tops of trees, 
 old and dried, lay directly across their course ; 
 and, at tlje very moment when both had thought 
 their safety insured, the warm currents of the air 
 swept a forked tongue of flame across the pile, 
 which lighted at the touch; and, when they 
 reached , the spot, the flying pair were opposed 
 by the .surly roaring of a body of fire, as. if a 
 furnace were glowing in their path. They re- 
 coiled from the heat, and stood on a point of the 
 rock, gazing in a stupor at the flames, which 
 were spreading rapidly down the mountain, whose 
 side soon became a sheet of living fire. It was 
 dangerous for one clad in the light and airy dress 
 of Elizabeth to approach even the vicinity of the 
 raging element; and those flowing robes, that 
 gave such softness and grace to her form, seemed 
 now to be formed for the. instruments of her de- 
 struction. 
 
 The villagers were accustomed to resort to 
 that hill in quest of timber and fuel ; in procur- 
 ing which, it was their usage to take only the 
 bodies of the trees, leaving the tops and branches 
 to decay under the operations of the weather. 
 Much of the hill was, consequently, covered with 
 such light fuel, which, having been scorched un- 
 der the sun for the last two months, was ignited 
 with a touch. Indeed, in some oases, there did 
 not appear to be any contact between the fire 
 and these piles, but the flames seemed to dart 
 from heap to heap, as the fabulous fire of the 
 temple is represented to reillume its neglected 
 lamp. 
 
 There was beauty as well as terror in the sight, 
 and Edwards and Elizabeth stood viewing the 
 progress of the desolation, with a strange mixture 
 of horror and interest. The former, however, 
 shortly roused himself to new exertions, and, draw- 
 ing his companion after him, they skirted the 
 edge of the smoke, the young man penetrating 
 frequently into its dense volumes in search of a 
 51 
 
 passage, but in every instance without success. 
 In this manner they proceeded in a semicircle 
 around the upper part of the terrace, until, arriv- 
 ing at the verge of the precipice, opposite to the 
 point where Edwards had ascended, the horrid 
 conviction burst on both, at the same instant, that 
 they were completely encircled by the fire. So 
 long as a single pass up or down the mountain 
 was unexplored, there was hope ; but, when retreat 
 seemed to be absolutely impracticable, the horror 
 of their situation broke upon Elizabeth as power- 
 fully as if she had hitherto considered the danger 
 light. 
 
 “ This mountain is doomed to be fatal to me ! ” 
 she whispered; “we shall find our graves on 
 it!” 
 
 “ Say not so, Miss Temple ; there is yet hope,” 
 returned the youth, in the same tone, while the 
 vacant expression of his eye contradicted his 
 words : “ let us return to the point of the rock ; 
 there is — there must be— some place about it 
 where we can descend.” 
 
 “ Lead me there,” exclaimed Elizabeth ; “ let 
 us leave no effort untried.” She did not wait for 
 his compliance, but, turning, retraced her steps 
 to the brow of the precipice, murmuring to her- 
 self, in suppressed, hysterical sobs, “My father! 
 my poor, my distracted father ! ” 
 
 Edwards was by her side in an instant, and 
 with aching eyes he examined every fissure in the 
 crags, in quest of some opening that might offer 
 facilities for flight. But the smooth, even surface 
 of the rocks afforded hardly a resting-place for a 
 foot, much less those continued projections which 
 would have been necessary for a descent of nearly 
 a hundred feet. Edwards was not slow in feeling 
 the conviction that this hope was also futile, and, 
 with a kind of feverish despair that still urged 
 him to action, he turned to some new expedient. 
 
 “ There is nothing left, Miss Temple,” he said, 
 “ but to lower you from this place to the rock 
 beneath. If Natty were here, or even that Indian 
 could be roused, their ingenuity and long practice 
 would easily devise methods to do it ; but I am a 
 child at this moment in every thing but daring. 
 Where shall I find means ? This dress of mine 
 is so light, and there is so little of it — then* the 
 blanket of Mohegan ; we must try— we must try 
 — any thing is better than to see you a victim to 
 such a death ! ” 
 
 “ And what will become of you ? ” said Eliza- 
 beth. “Indeed, indeed, neither you nor John 
 must be sacrificed to my safety.” 
 
 He heard her not, for he was already by the 
 side of Mohegan, who yielded his blanket without 
 a Question, retaining his seat with Indian dignity 
 
178 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 and composure, though his own situation was 
 even more critical than that of the others. The 
 blanket was cut into shreds, and the Ragments 
 fastened together ; the loose linen jacket of the 
 youth, and the light muslin shawl of Elizabeth, 
 were attached to them, and the whole thrown 
 over the rocks, with the rapidity of lightning; 
 but the united pieces did not reach half-way to 
 the bottom. 
 
 “ It will not do — it will not do ! ” cried Eliza- 
 beth ; “ for me there is no hope ! The fire comes, 
 slowly, but certainly. See, it destroys the very 
 earth before it ! ” 
 
 Had the flames spread on that rock with half 
 the quickness with which they leaped from bush 
 to tree, in other parts of the mountain, our pain- 
 ful task would have soon ended ; for they would 
 have consumed already the captives they inclosed. 
 But the peculiarity of their situation afforded 
 Elizabeth and her companion the respite of which 
 they had availed themselves to make the efforts 
 we have recorded. 
 
 The thin covering of earth on the rock sup- 
 ported but a scanty and faded herbage, and most 
 of the trees that had found root in the fissures 
 had already died, during the intense heats of pre- 
 ceding summers. Those which still retained the 
 appearance of life bore a few dry and withered 
 leaves, while the others were merely the wrecks 
 of pines, oaks, and maples. No better materials 
 to feed the fire could be found, had there been a 
 communication with the flames ; but the ground 
 was destitute of the brush that led the destruc- 
 tive element, like a torrent, over the remainder 
 of the hill. As auxiliary to this scarcity of fuel, 
 one of the large springs which abound in that 
 country gushed out of the side of the ascent kbove, 
 end, after creeping sluggishly along the level land, 
 saturating the mossy covering of the rock with 
 moisture, it swept around the base of the little 
 cone that formed the pinnacle of the mountain, 
 and, entering the canopy of smoke near one of 
 the terminations of the terrace, found its way to 
 the lake, not by dashing from rock to rock, but 
 by the secret channels of the earth. It would 
 rise to the surface, here and there, in the wet 
 seasons, but in the droughts of summer it was to 
 be traced only by the bogs and moss that an- 
 nounced the proximity of water. When the fire 
 reached this barrier, it was compelled to pause, 
 until a concentration of its heat could overcome 
 the moisture, like an army waiting the operations 
 of a battering train, to open its way to desolation. 
 
 That fatal moment seemed now to have ar- 
 rived, for the hissing steams of the spring ap- 
 peared to be nearly exhausted, and the moss of the 
 
 rocks was already curling under the intense heat* 
 while fragments of bark, that yet clung to the 
 dead trees, began to separate from their trunks, 
 and fall to the ground in crumbling masses. Tha 
 air seemed quivering with rays of heat, which 
 might be seen playing along the parched stems 
 of the trees. There Were moments when dark, 
 clouds of smoke would sweep along the little ter- 
 race ; and, as the eye lost its power, the other 
 senses contributed to give effect to the fearful 
 horror of the scene. At such moments, the roar- 
 ing of the flames, the crackling of the furious ele- 
 ment, with the tearing of falling branches, and, 
 occasionally, the thundering echoes of some fall- 
 ing tree, united to alarm the victims. Of the 
 three, however, the youth appeared much the 
 most agitated. Elizabeth, having relinquished 
 entirely the idea of escape, was fast obtaining 
 that resigned composure with which the most 
 delicate of her sex are sometimes known to meet 
 unavoidable evils ; while Mohegan, who was much 
 nearer to the danger, maintained his seat with 
 the invincible resignation of an Indian warrior. 
 Once Or twice the eye of the aged chief, which 
 was ordinarily fixed in the direction of the distant 
 hills, turned toward the young pair, who seemed 
 doomed to so early a death, with a slight indica- 
 tion of pity crossing his composed features, but 
 it would immediately revert again to its former 
 gaze, as if already looking into the womb of futu. 
 ity. Much of the time he was chanting a kind of 
 low dirge, in the Delaware tongue, using the deep 
 and remarkable guttural tones of his people. 
 
 “ At such a moment, Mr. Edwards, all earthly 
 distinctions end,” whispered Elizabeth ; “ persuade 
 John to move nearer to us— -let us die together.” 
 
 “I cannot — he will not stir,” returned the 
 youth, in the same horridly still tones. “ He con- 
 siders this as as the happiest moment of his life. 
 He is past seventy, and has been decaying rapid- 
 ly for some time : he received some injury in chas- 
 ing that unlucky deer, too, on the lake. Oh! 
 Miss Temple that was an unlucky chase indeed ! 
 it has led, I fear to this awful scene.” 
 
 The smile of Elizabeth was celestial. “ Why 
 name such a trifle now — at this moment the heart 
 is dead to all earthly emotions ! ” 
 
 “ If any thing could reconcile a man to this 
 death,” cried the youth, “ it would be to meet it 
 in such company ! ” 
 
 “ Talk not so, Edwards, talk not so,” inter 
 rupted Miss Te&ple. “ I am unworthy of it ; and 
 it is unjust to yourself. We must die; yes— yes 
 — we must die — it is the will of God, and let us 
 endeavor to submit like his own children.” 
 
 * Die ! ” the youth rather shrieked than ex- 
 
A PERILOUS SITUATION. 
 
 179 
 
 claimed, “ no — no — no — there must yet be hope 
 —you at least must not, shall not die.” 
 
 “ In what way can we escape ? ” asked Eliza- 
 beth, pointing with a look of heavenly composure 
 toward the fire. “ Observe ! the flame is crossing 
 the barrier of wet ground — it comes slowly, 
 Edwards, but surely. — Ah ! see ! the tree ! the 
 tree is already lighted ! ” 
 
 Her words were too true. The heat of the 
 conflagration had at length overcome the resist- 
 ance of the spring, and the fire was slowly steal- 
 ing along the half-dried moss ; while a dead pine 
 kindled with the touch of a forked flame, that, 
 for a moment, wreathed around the stem of the 
 tree, as it whirled, in one of its evolutions, under 
 the influence of the air. The effect was instan- 
 taneous. The flames danced along the parched 
 trunk of the pine, like lightning quivering on a 
 chain, and immediately a column of living fire 
 was raging on the terrace. It soon spread from 
 tree to tree : and the scene was evidently drawing 
 to a close. The log on which Mohegan was seated 
 lighted at its further end, and the Indian appeared 
 to be surrounded by fire. Still he was unmoved. 
 As his body was unprotected, his sufferings must 
 have been great : but his fortitude was superior 
 to all. His voice could yet be heard even in the 
 midst of these horroi’s. Elizabeth turned her 
 head from the sight, and faced the valley. Furi- 
 ous eddies of wind were created by the heat, and, 
 just at the moment, the canopy of fiery smoke 
 that overhung the valley was cleared away, leav- 
 ing a distinct view of the peaceful village beneath 
 them. 
 
 '“ Hy father ! — my father ! ” shrieked Eliza- 
 beth. “ Oh ! this — surely might have been spared 
 me— but I submit.” 
 
 The distance was not so great but the figure of 
 Judge Temple could be seen, standing in his own 
 grounds, and apparently contemplating, in perfect 
 unconsciousness of the danger of his child, the 
 mountain in flames. This sight was still more 
 painful than the approaching danger; and Eliza- 
 beth again faced the hill. 
 
 “ My intemperate warmth has done this ! ” 
 cried Edwards, in the accents of despair. “ If I 
 had possessed but a moiety of your heavenly 
 resignation, Miss Temple, all might yet have been 
 well.” 
 
 “Name it not — name it not,” she said. “It 
 is now of no avail. We must die, Edwards, we 
 must die — let us do so as Christians. But— no — 
 you may yet escape, perhaps. Y our dress is not 
 bo fatal as mine. Fly ! Leave me. An opening 
 may yet be found for you, possibly — certainly it 
 Is worth the effort. Fly ! leave me — but stay ! 
 
 You will see my father ; my poor, my bereaved 
 father ! Say to him, then, Edwards, say to him, 
 all that can appease his anguish. Tell him that I 
 died happy and collected ; that I have gone to 
 my beloved mother ; that the hours of this life 
 are as nothing when balanced in the scales of eter- 
 nity. Say how we shall meet again. And say,” 
 she continued, dropping her voice, that had risen 
 with her feelings, as if conscious of her worldly 
 weaknesses, “ how dear, how very dear, was my 
 love for him ; that it was near, too near, to my 
 love for God.” 
 
 The youth listened to her touching accents, 
 but moved not. In a moment he found utterance, 
 and replied : 
 
 “ And is it me that you command to leave you ! 
 to leave you on the edge of the grave ! Oh ! Miss 
 Temple, how little have you known me ! ” he cried, 
 dropping on his knees at her feet, and gathering 
 her flowing robe in his arms as if to shield her 
 from the flames. “ I have been driven to the woods 
 in despair ; but your society has tamed the lion 
 within me. If I have wasted my time in degrada- 
 tion, ’twas you that charmed me to it. If I have 
 forgotten my name and family, your form sup- 
 plied the place of memory. If I have forgotten 
 my wrongs, ’twas you that taught me charity. 
 No — no — dearest Elizabeth, I may die with you, 
 but I can never leave you ! ” 
 
 Elizabeth moved not, nor answered. It was 
 plain that her thoughts had been raised from the 
 earth. The recollection of her father, and her 
 regrets at their separation, had been mellowed by 
 a holy sentiment, that lifted her above the level 
 of earthly things, and she was fast losing the 
 weakness of her sex in the near view of eternity. 
 But as she listened to these words she became 
 once more woman. She struggled against these 
 feelings, and smiled, as she thought she was shak- 
 ing off the last lingering feeling of nature, when 
 the world, and all its seductions, rushed again to 
 her heart, with the sounds of a human voice, cry- 
 ing in piercing tones : 
 
 “ Gal ! where be ye, gal ! gladden the heart 
 of an old man, if ye yet belong to ’arth ! ” 
 
 “ List ! ” said Elizabeth, “ ’tis the Leather 
 stocking ; he seeks me ! ” 
 
 “’Tis Natty!” shouted Edwards, “and we 
 may yet be saved ! ” 
 
 A wide and circling flame glared on their eyes 
 for a moment, even above the fire of the woods, 
 and a loud report followed. 
 
 “ ’Tis the canister ! ’tis the powder,” cried the 
 same voice, evidently approaching them. “ ’Tift 
 the canister, and the precious child is lost ! ” 
 
 At the next instant Natty rushed through the 
 
180 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 steams of the spring, and appeared on the ter- 
 race, without his deer-skin cap, his hair burnt to 
 his head, his shirt, of country check, black and 
 filled with holes, and his red features of a deeper 
 color than ever, by the heat he had encountered. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 “ Even from the land of shadows, now, 
 
 My father’s awful ghost appears.” 
 
 Geetrude op Wyoming. 
 
 Por an hour after Louisa Grant was left by 
 Miss Temple, in the situation already mentioned, 
 she continued in feverish anxiety, awaiting the 
 return of her friend. But, as the time passed by 
 without the reappearance of Elizabeth, the terror 
 of Louisa gradually increased, until her alarmed 
 fancy had conjured every species of danger that 
 appertained to the woods, excepting the one that 
 really existed. The heavens had become obscured 
 by degrees, and vast volumes of smoke were 
 pouring over the valley ; but the thoughts of 
 Louisa were still recurring to beasts, without 
 dreaming of the real cause for apprehension. 
 She was stationed in the edge of the low pines 
 and chestnuts that succeed the first or large 
 growth of the forest, and directly above the angle 
 where the highway turned from the straight 
 course to the village, and ascended the mountain, 
 laterally. Consequently, she commanded a view, 
 not only of the valley, but of the road beneath 
 her. The few travellers that passed, she observed, 
 were engaged in earnest conversation, and fre- 
 quently raised their eyes to the hill, and at length 
 she saw the people leaving the court-house, and 
 gazing upward also. While under the influence 
 of the alarm excited by such unusual movements, 
 reluctant to go, and yet fearful to remain, Louisa 
 was startled by the low, cracking, but cautious 
 treads of some one approaching through the 
 bushes. She was on the eve of flight, when Nat- 
 ty emerged from the cover, and stood at her side. 
 The old man laughed as he shook her kindly by 
 a hand that was passive with fear. 
 
 “ I am glad to meet you here, child,” he said ; 
 “ for the back of the mountain is a-fire, and it 
 would be dangerous to go up it now, till it has 
 been burnt over once, and the dead wood is gone. 
 There’s a foolish man, the comrade of that var- 
 mint who has given me all this trouble, digging 
 for ore on the east side. I told him that the 
 tearless fellows, who thought to catch a practys’d 
 hunter in the woods after dark, had thrown the 
 lighted pine-knots in the brush, and that ’twould 
 
 kindle like tow, and warned him to leave the hill. 
 But he was set upon his business, and nothing 
 short of Providence could move him. If he isn’t 
 burnt and buried in a grave of his own digging, 
 he’s made of salamanders. Why, what ails the 
 child ! you look as skeary as if you’d see’d more 
 painters ! I wish there were more to be found ; 
 they’d count up faster than the beaver. But 
 where’s the good child with a bad father ? did 
 she forget her promise to the old man ? ” 
 
 “ The hill ! the hill ! ” shrieked Louisa ; “ she 
 seeks you on the hill with the powder ! ” 
 
 Natty recoiled several feet at this unexpected 
 intelligence. 
 
 “ The Lord of Heaven have mercy on her ! 
 She’s on the Vision, and that’s a sheet of fire 
 ag’in this. Child, if ye love the dear one, and 
 hope to find a friend when ye need it most, to the 
 village, and give the alarm. The men are used to 
 fighting fire, and there may be a chance left. Ely ! 
 I bid ye fly ! nor stop even for breath.” 
 
 The Leather-stocking had no sooner uttered 
 this injunction, than he disappeared in the bushes, 
 and, when last seen by Louisa, was rushing up the 
 mountain, with a speed that none but those who 
 were accustomed to the toil could attain. 
 
 “ Have I found ye ! ” the old man exclaimed, 
 when he burst out of the smoke ; “ God be praised 
 that I have found ye ; but follow — there’s no 
 time for talking.” 
 
 “ My dress ! ” said Elizabeth ; “ it would be 
 fatal to trust myself nearer to the flames in it.” 
 
 “ I bethought me of your flimsy things,” cried 
 Natty, throwing loose the folds of a covering of 
 buckskin that he carried on his arm, and wrap- 
 ping her form in it, in such a manner as to en- 
 velop her whole person ; “ now follow, for it’s a 
 matter of life and death to us all.” 
 
 “But John! what will become of John?” 
 cried Edwards; “can we leave the old warrior 
 here to perish ? ” 
 
 The eyes of Natty followed the direction of 
 Edwards’s finger, where he beheld the Indian still 
 seated as before, with the very earth under his 
 feet consuming with fire. Without delay the 
 hunter approached the spot, and spoke in Dela- 
 ware : 
 
 “ Up and away, Chingachgook ! will ye stay 
 here to burn, like a’ Mingo at the stake ? The Mo- 
 ravians have teached ye better, I hope', the Lord 
 preserve me if the powder hasn’t flashed atween 
 his legs, and thf skin of his back is roasting. Will 
 ye come, I say ; will ye follow me ? ” 
 
 “Why should Mohegan go?” returned the 
 Indian, gloomily. “ He has seen the days of an 
 eagle, and his eye grows dim. He looks on the 
 
NATTY RESCUES HIS FRIENDS. 
 
 181 
 
 Talley ; he looks on the water ; he looks in the 
 hunting-grounds — but he sees no Delawares. 
 Every one has a white skin. My fathers say, 
 from the far-off land, Come. My women, my 
 young warriors, my tribe, say, Come. The Great 
 Spirit says, Come. Let Mohegan die.” 
 
 “ But you forget your friend,” cried Ed- 
 wards. 
 
 “ ’Tis useless to talk to an Indian with the 
 death-fit on him, lad,” interrupted Natty, who 
 seized the strips of the blanket, and with wonder- 
 ful dexterity strapped the passive chieftain to his 
 own back ; when he turned, and with a strength 
 that seemed to bid defiance, not only to his years, 
 but to his load, he led the way to the point whence 
 he had issued. As they crossed the little terrace 
 of rock, one of the dead trees, that had been tot- 
 tering for several minutes, fell on the spot where 
 they had stood, and filled the air with its cinders. 
 
 Such an event quickened the steps of the party, 
 who followed the Leather-stocking with the urgen- 
 cy required by the occasion. 
 
 “ Tread on the soft ground,” he cried, when 
 they were in a gloom where sight availed them 
 but little, “ and keep in the white smoke ; keep 
 the skin close on her, lad ; she’s a precious one, 
 another will be hard to be found.” 
 
 Obedient to the hunter’s directions, they fol- 
 lowed his steps and advice implicitly ; and, al- 
 though the narrow passage along the winding of the 
 spring led amid burning logs and falling branches, 
 they happily achieved it in safety. No one but a 
 man long accustomed to the woods, could have 
 traced his route through the smoke, in which res- 
 piration was difficult, and sight nearly useless ; 
 but the experience of Natty conducted them to an 
 opening through the rocks, where, with a little 
 difficulty, they soon descended to another terrace, 
 and emerged at once into a tolerably clear atmos- 
 phere. 
 
 The feelings of Edwards and, Elizabeth at 
 reaching this spot may be imagined, though not 
 easily described. No one seemed to exult more 
 than their guide, who turned,, with Mohegan still 
 lashed to his back, and, laughing in his own man- 
 ner, said : 
 
 “ I know’d ’twas the Frenchman’s powder, 
 gal ; it went so all together ; your coarse grain 
 will squib for a minute. The Iroquois had none 
 of the best powder when I went ag’in the Canada 
 tribes, under Sir William. Did I ever tell you the 
 story, lad, consarning the scrimmage with — ” 
 
 “For God’s sake, tell me nothing now, Natty, 
 until we are entirely safe. Where shall we go 
 next ? ” 
 
 Why, on the platform of rock over the cave, 
 
 to be sure ; you will be safe enough there, or we’ll 
 go into it, if you be so minded.” 
 
 The young man started, and appeared agitat- 
 ed ; but, looking around him with an anxious eye, 
 said quickly : 
 
 “ Shall we be safe on the rock ? cannot the 
 fire reach us there, too ? ” 
 
 “ Can’t the boy see ? ” said Natty, with the 
 coolness of one accustomed to the kind of danger 
 he had just encountered. “ Had ye stayed in the 
 place above ten minutes longer, you would both 
 have been in ashes, but here you may stay for ever, 
 and no fire can touch you, until they burn the 
 rocks as well as the woods.” 
 
 With this assurance, which was obviously 
 true, they proceeded to the spot, and Natty de- 
 posited his load, placing the Indian on the ground 
 with his back against a fragment of the rocks. 
 Elizabeth sank on the ground, and buried her face 
 in her hands, while her heart was swelling with a 
 variety of conflicting emotions. 
 
 “ Let me urge you to take a restorative, Miss 
 Temple,” said Edwards respectfully ; “ your frame 
 will sink else.” 
 
 “ Leave me, leave me,” she said, raising her 
 beaming eyes for a moment to his ; “I feel too 
 much for words ! I am grateful, Oliver, for this 
 miraculous escape ; and next to my God to you.” 
 
 Edwards withdrew to the edge of the rock, 
 and ghouted — “ Benjamin ! where are you, Ben- 
 jamin ? ” 
 
 A hoarse voice replied, as if from the bowels 
 of the earth, “ Hereaway, master ; stowed in this 
 here bit of a hole, which is all the same as hot as 
 the cook’s coppers. I’m tired of my berth, d’ye 
 see, and if-so-be that Leather-stocking has got 
 much over-hauling to do before he sails after them 
 said beaver, I’ll go into dock again, and ride out 
 my quarantine till I can get prottick from the 
 law, and so hold on upon the rest of my ’spa- 
 niolas.” 
 
 Bring up a glass of water from the spring,” 
 continued Edwards,. “ and throw a little wine in it ; 
 hasten, I entreat you ! ” 
 
 “ I knows but little of your small drink, master 
 Oliver,” returned the steward, his voice issuing 
 out of the cave into the open air, “ and the 
 Jamaikey held out no longer than to take a part- 
 ing kiss with Billy Kirby, when he anchored me 
 alongside the highway last night, where you run 
 me down in the chase. But here’s sum’mat of a 
 red color that may suit a weak stomach, mayhap. 
 That Master Kirby is no first-rate in a boat ; but 
 he’ll tack a cart among the stumps, all the same as 
 a Lon’on pilot will back and fill through the col- 
 liers in the Pool.” 
 
182 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 As the steward ascended while talking, by the 
 time he had ended his speech, he appeared on the 
 rock with the desired restoratives, exhibiting the 
 worn-out and bloated features of a man who had 
 run deep in a debauch, and that lately. 
 
 Elizabeth took from the hands of Edwards 
 the liquor which he offered, and then motioned to 
 be left again to herself. 
 
 The youth turned at her bidding, and ob- 
 served Natty kindly assiduous around the person 
 of Mohegan. When their eyes met, the hunter 
 said sorrowfully . 
 
 “ His time has come, lad ; I see it in his eyes ; 
 — when an Indian fixes his eye, he means to go but 
 to one place ; and what the wilful creatures put 
 their minds on, they’re sure to do.” 
 
 A quick tread prevented the reply, and in a 
 few moments, to the amazement of the whole 
 party, Mr. Grant was seen clinging to the side of 
 the mountain, and striving to reach the place 
 where they stood. Oliver sprang to his assist- 
 tance, and by their united efforts the worthy 
 divine was soon placed safely among them.” 
 
 “ How came you added to our number ? ’’ 
 cried Edwards. “ Is the hill alive with people at 
 a time like this ? ” 
 
 The hasty but pious thanksgivings of the 
 clergyman were soon ejaculated; and, when he 
 succeeded in collecting his bewildered senses, he 
 replied : 
 
 “ I heard that my child was seen coming to 
 the mountain; and, when the fire broke over its 
 summit, my uneasiness drew me up the road, 
 where I found Louisa, in terror for Miss Temple. 
 It was to seek her that I came into this danger- 
 ous place ; and I think, but for God’s mercy, 
 through the dogs of Natty, I should have per- 
 ished in the flames myself.” 
 
 “ Ay ! follow the hounds, and if there’s an 
 opening they’ll scent it out,” said Natty; “ their 
 noses be given them the same as man’s reason.” 
 
 “ I did so, and they led me to this place ; 
 but, praise be to God, that I see you all safe and 
 well.” 
 
 “No, no,” returned the hunter; “safe we be, 
 but as for well, John can’t be called in a good 
 way, unless you’ll say that for a man that’s tak- 
 ing his last look at ’arth.” 
 
 “ He speaks the truth ! ” said the divine, with 
 the holy awe with which he ever approached the 
 dying ; “ I have been by too many death-beds, 
 
 not to see that the hand of the tyrant is laid on 
 this old warrior. Oh ! how consoling it is to 
 know that he has not rejected the offered mercy 
 in the hour of his strength and of worldly temp- 
 tations ! The offspring of a race of heathens, he 
 
 has in truth been ‘ as a brand plucked from the 
 burning.’ ” 
 
 “ No, no,” returned Natty, who alone stood 
 with him by the side of the dying warrior, “it’s 
 no burning that ails him, though his Indian feel- 
 ings made him scorn to move, unless it be the burn- 
 ing of man’s wicked thoughts for near fourscore 
 years ; but it’s nater giving out in a chase that’s 
 run too long.— Down with ye, Hector ! down, 
 I say! — Flesh isn’t iron, that a man can live 
 for ever, and see his kith and kin driven to a far 
 country, and he left to mourn, with none to keep 
 him company.” 
 
 “John,” said the divine, tenderly, “do you 
 hear me ? do you wish the prayers appointed by 
 the church, at this trying moment ? ” 
 
 The Indian turned his ghastly face toward the 
 speaker, and fastened his dark eyes on him, 
 steadily, but vacantly. No sign of recognition 
 was made ; and in a moment he moved his head 
 again slowly toward the vale, and began to sing, 
 using his own language, in those low, guttural 
 tones, that have been so often mentioned, his 
 notes rising with his theme, till they swelled so 
 loud as to be distinct. 
 
 “ I will come ! I will come ! to the land of the 
 just I will come ! The Maquas I have slain ! — I 
 have slain the Maquas ! and the Great Spirit calls 
 to his son. I will come ! I will come ! to the 
 land of the just I will come ! ” 
 
 “ What says he, Leather-stocking ? ” inquired 
 the priest, with, tender interest ; “ sings he the 
 Redeemer’s praise ? ” 
 
 “ No, no — ’tis his own praise that he speaks 
 now,” said Natty, turning in a melancholy manner 
 from the sight of his dying friend ; “and a good 
 right he has to say it all, for I know every word 
 to be true.” 
 
 “May Heaven avert such self-righteousness 
 from his heart ! Humility and penitence are the 
 seals of Christianity ; and, without feeling them 
 deeply seated in the soul, all hope is delusive, and 
 leads to vain expectations. Praise himself ! when 
 his whole soul and body should unite to praise 
 his Maker ! John ! you have enjoyed the bless- 
 ings of a gospel ministry, and have been called 
 from out a multitude of sinners and pagans, and, 
 I trust, for a wise and gracious purpose. Do you 
 now feel what it is to be justified by our Sav- 
 iour’s death, and reject all weak and idle depend- 
 ence on good works, that spring from man’s pride 
 and vainglory ? ” 
 
 The Indian did not regard his interrogator, 
 but he raised his head again, and said in a low, 
 distinct voice : 
 
 “ Who can say that the Maquas know the 
 
THE DYING MOHEGAN. 
 
 183 
 
 Dack of the Mohegan ? What enemy that trust- 
 ed in him did not see the .morning ? What 
 Mingo that he chased ever sang the song of tri- 
 umph ? Did Mohegan ever lie ? No ; the truth 
 lived in him, and none else could come out of 
 him. In his youth he was a warrior, and his moc- 
 casins left the stain of blood. In his age, he was 
 wise ; his words at the council fire did not blow 
 away with the winds.” 
 
 “ Ah ! he has abandoned that vain relic of pa- 
 ganism, his songs,” cried the divine; “what 
 says he now ? is he sensible of his lost state ? ” 
 
 “ Lord ! man,” said Natty, “ he knows his end 
 is at hand as well as you or I ; but, so far from 
 thinking it a loss, he believes it to be a great gain. 
 He is old and stiff, and you have made the game 
 so scarce and shy, that better shots than him find 
 it hard to get a livelihood. Now he thinks he 
 shall travel where it will always be good hunting; 
 where no wicked or unjust Indians can go; and 
 where he shall meet all his tribe together ag’in. 
 There’s not much loss in that, to a man whose 
 hands are hardly fit for basket-making. Loss ! 
 if there be any loss, ’twill be to me. I’m sure, 
 after he’s gone, there will be but little left for me 
 but to follow.” 
 
 “His example and end, which, I humbly trust, 
 shall yet be made glorious,” returned Mr. Grant, 
 “ should lead your mind to dwell on the things of 
 another life. But I feel it to be my duty to 
 smooth the way for the parting spirit. This is 
 the moment, John, when the reflection that you 
 did not reject the mediation of the Redeemer, will 
 bring balm to your soul. Trust not to any act of 
 former days, but lay the burden of your sins at 
 his feet, and you have his own blessed assurance 
 that he will not desert you.” 
 
 “Though all you say be true, and you have 
 scripter gospels for it, too,” said Natty, “ you will 
 make nothing of the Indian. He hasn’t seen a 
 Moravian priest sin’ the war; and it’s hard to 
 keep them from going back to their native ways. 
 I should think ’twould be as well to let the old 
 man pass in peace. He’s happy now ; I know it 
 by his eye ; and that’s more than I would say for 
 the chief, sin’ the time the Delawares broke up 
 from the head- waters of their river, and went west. 
 Ah’s me ! ’tis a grievous long time that, and 
 many dark days have we seen together sin’ 
 it.” 
 
 “ Hawk-eye ! ” said Mohegan, rousing with the 
 last glimmering of life. “ Hawk-eye ! listen to 
 ihe words of your brother.” 
 
 “Yes, John,” said the hunter, in English, 
 strongly affected by the appeal, and drawing to 
 his side ; “ we have been brothers ; and more so 
 
 than it means in the Indian tongue. What would 
 ye oave with me, Chingachgook ? ” 
 
 “ Hawk-eye ! my fathers call me to the happy 
 hunting-grounds. The path is clear, and the 
 eyes of Mohegan grow young. I look — but I see 
 no white-skins; there are none to be seen but 
 just and brave Indians. Farewell, Hawk-eye — 
 you shall go with the Fire-eater and the, Young 
 Eagle, to the white man’s heaven ; but I go after 
 my fathers. Let the bow, and tomahawk, and 
 pipe, and the wampum of Mohegan be laid in bis 
 grave ; for when he starts ’twill be in the night, 
 like a warrior on a war-party, and he cannot stop 
 to seek them.” 
 
 “ What says he, Nathaniel ? ” cried Mr. Grant, 
 earnestly, and with obvious anxiety; “does he 
 recall the promises of the mediation ? and trust 
 his salvation to the Rock of Ages ? ” 
 
 Although the faith of the hunter was by no 
 means clear, yet the fruits of early instruction 
 had not entirely fallen in the wilderness. He be- 
 lieved in one God, and one heaven; and when 
 the strong feeling excited by the leave-taking of 
 his old companion, which was exhibited by the 
 powerful working of every muscle in his weather- 
 beaten face, suffered him to speak, he replied : 
 
 “ No— no — he trusts only to the Great Spirit 
 of the savages, and to his own good deeds. He 
 thinks, like all his people, that he is to be young 
 ag’in, and to hunt, and be happy to the end of 
 etarnity. It’s pretty much the same with all col- 
 ors, parson. I could never bring myself to think, 
 that I shall meet with these hounds, or my piece, 
 in another world ; though the thoughts of leav- 
 ing them for ever sometimes brings hard feelings 
 over me, and makes me cling to life with a greater 
 craving than beseems three-score-and-ten.” 
 
 “ The Lord in his mercy avert such a death 
 from one who has been sealed with the sign of 
 the cross ! ” cried the minister, in holy fervor. 
 “John—” 
 
 He paused for the elements. During the pe- 
 riod occupied by the events which we have related, 
 the dark clouds in the horizon had continued to 
 increase in numbers and magnitude ; and the 
 awful stillness that now pervaded the air, an- 
 nounced a crisis in, the state of the atmosphere. 
 The flames, which yet; continued to rage along the 
 sides of the mountain, no longer whirled in uncer- 
 tain currents of their own eddies, but blazed high 
 and steadily toward the heavens. There was 
 even a quietude in the ravages of the destructive 
 element, as if it foresaw that a hand, greater than 
 even its own desolating power, was about to stay 
 its progress. The piles of smoke which lay above 
 the valley began to rise, and were dispelling rap 
 
184 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 idly; and ' streaks of vivid lightning were dan- 
 cing through the masses of clouds that impended 
 over the western hills. While Mr. Grant was 
 speaking, a flash, which sent its quivering light 
 through the gloom, laying bare the whole opposite 
 horizon, was followed by aloud crash of thunder, 
 that rolled away among the hills, seeming to 
 shake the foundations of the earth to their centre. 
 Mohegan raised himSelf, as if in Obedience to a 
 signal for his departure, and stretched his wasted 
 arm toward the west. His dark face lighted with 
 a look of joy; which, with all other expression, 
 gradually disappeared ; the muscles stiffening as 
 they retreated to a state of rest ; a slight convul- 
 sion played, for a single instant, about his lips ; 
 and his arm slowly dropped by his side ; leaving 
 the frame of the dead warrior reposing against the 
 rock with its glassy eyes open, and fixed on the 
 distant hills, as if the deserted shell were tracing 
 the flight of the spirit to its new abode. 
 
 All this Mr. Grant witnessed in silent awe ; 
 but, when the last echoes of the thunder died away, 
 he clasped his hands together, with pious energy, 
 and repeated, in the full, rich tones of assured 
 faith : 
 
 “ 0 Lord ! how unsearchable are thy judg- 
 ments ; and thy ways pa^t finding out ! ‘ I know 
 that my Redeemer liveth, and that he shall stand 
 at the latter day upon the earth : and though after 
 my skin, Worms destroy this body, yst in my flesh 
 shall I see God ; whom I shall see for myself, and 
 mine eyes shall behold, and not another.’ ” 
 
 As the divine closed this burst of devotion, he 
 bowed his head meekly to his bosom, and looked 
 all the dependence and humility that the inspired 
 language expressed. 
 
 When Mr. Grant retired from the body, the 
 hunter approached, and, taking the rigid hand of 
 his friend, looked him wistfully in the face for 
 some time without speaking, when he gave vent 
 to his feelings by saying, in the mournful voice of 
 one who felt deeply : 
 
 “ Red skin or white, it’s all over now ! He’s 
 to be judged by a righteous Judge, and by no 
 laws that’s made to suit times, and new ways. 
 Well, there’s only one more death, and the world 
 will be left tome and the hounds. Ah’s me! a 
 man must wait the time of God’s pleasure, but I 
 begin to weary of life. There is scarcely a tree 
 standing that I know, and it’s hard to find a face 
 that I was acquainted with in my younger days.” 
 
 Large drops of rain began now to fall, and 
 ditluse themselves over the dry rock, while the 
 approach of the thunder shower was rapid and 
 certain. The body of the Indian was hastily re- 
 moved into the cave beneath, followed by the 
 
 whining hounds, who missed and moaned for the 
 look of intelligence -that had always met their sal- 
 utations to the chief. 
 
 Edwards made some hasty and confused excuse 
 for not taking Elizabeth into the same place, 
 Which was now completely closed in front with 
 logs and bark, saying something that she hardly 
 understood about its darkness, and the unpleas- 
 antness of being with the dead body. Miss Tem- 
 ple, however, found a sufficient shelter against 
 the torrent of rain that fell, under the projection 
 of a rock which overhung them. But long before 
 the shower was over, the sounds of voices were 
 heard below them crying aloud for Elizabeth, and 
 men soon appeared, beating the dying embers of 
 the bushes, as they worked their way cautiously 
 among the unextinguished brands. 
 
 At the first short cessation in the rain, Oliver 
 conducted Elizabeth to the road, where he left 
 her. Before parting, however, he found time to 
 say, in a fervent manner, that his companion was 
 now at no loss to interpret : 
 
 “The moment of concealment is over, Miss 
 Temple. By this time to-morrow, I shall remove 
 a veil that perhaps it has been Weakness to keep 
 around me and my affairs so long. But I have 
 had romantic and foolish wishes and weaknesses : 
 and who has not, that is young and torn by con- 
 flicting passions? God bless you! I hear your 
 father’s voice;' he is coming up the road, and I 
 would not, just now, subject myself to detention. 
 Thank Heaven, you are safe again; that alone 
 removes the weight of a world from my spirit!” 
 
 He waited for no answer, but sprang into the 
 woods. Elizabeth, notwithstanding she heard the 
 cries of her father as he called upon her name, 
 paused until he was concealed among the smok- 
 ing trees, when she turned, and in a moment rush- 
 : ed into the. arms of her half-distracted parent. 
 
 A carriage had been provided, into which 
 Miss Temple hastily entered ; when the cry was 
 passed along the hill, that the lost one w-as found 
 and the people returned to the village wet and 
 dirty, but elated with the thought that the daugh- 
 ter of their landlord had escaped from so horrid 
 and untimely an end.* 
 
 * The probability of a fire in the woods, similar to that 
 here described, has been questioned. The writer can only 
 say that he once witnessed a fire in another part of Now 
 York that compelled a man to desert his wagon and horses 
 in the highway, and in which the latter were destroyed. 
 In order to estimate the probability of such an event, it is 
 necessary to remember the effects of a long drought in that 
 climate, and the abundance of dead wood which is found in 
 a forest like that described. The fires in the American for- 
 ests frequently rage to such an extent as to produce a sen- 
 sible effect on tbe atmosphere at the distance of fifty miles. 
 
THE TEMPLETON LIGHT-INFANTRY. 
 
 185 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIX. 
 
 “ Bellclar ! unsheathe then our chiefs scimitar; 
 Tambourgi ! thy ’larum gives promise of war ; 
 
 Te mountains ! that see us descend to the shore, 
 
 Shall view us as victors, or view us no more.” 
 
 Byron. 
 
 The heavy showers that prevailed during the 
 remainder of the day completely stopped the prog- 
 ress of the flames ; though glimmering fires were 
 observed during the night, on different parts of 
 the hill, wherever there was a collection of fuel 
 to feed the element. The next day the woods, 
 for many miles, were black and smoking, and 
 were stripped of every vestige of brush and dead 
 wood; but the pines and hemlocks still reared 
 their heads proudly among the hills, and even the 
 smaller trees of the forest retained a feeble ap- 
 pearance of life and’ Vegetation. 
 
 The many tongues of rumor were busy in 
 exaggerating the miraculous escape of Elizabeth ; 
 and a report was generally credited, that Hohe- 
 gan had actually perished in the flames. This be- 
 lief became confirmed, and was indeed rendered 
 probable, when the direful intelligence reached 
 the village that Jothanfi Riddell, the miner, was 
 found in his hole, nearly dead with suffocation, 
 and burnt to such a degree that no hopes were 
 entertained of his life. 
 
 The public attention became much alive to 
 the events of the last few days ; and, just at this 
 crisis, the convicted counterfeiters took the hint 
 from Natty, and, on the night succeeding the fire, 
 found means to cut through their log prison also, 
 and to escape unpunished. When this news be- 
 gan to circulate through the village, blended with 
 the fate of Jotham, and the exaggerated and tor- 
 tured reports of the events on the hill, the popu- 
 lar opinion was freely expressed, as to the pro- 
 priety of seizing such of the fugitives as remained 
 within reach. Men talked of the cave as a secret 
 receptacle of guilt; and, as the rumor of ores 
 and metals found its way into the confused med- 
 ley of conjectures, counterfeiting, and everything 
 else that was wicked and dangerous to the peace 
 of society, suggested themselves to the busy fan- 
 cies of the populace. 
 
 While the public mind was in this feverish 
 state, it was hinted that the wood had been set 
 bn fire by Edwards and the Leather-stocking, 
 and that, consequently, they alone were responsi- 
 ble for the damages. This opinion soon gained 
 ground, being most circulated by those who, by 
 their own heedlessness, had caused the evil ; and 
 
 liouses, bams, and fences, are quite commonly swept away 
 In their course. 
 
 there was one irresistible burst of the common 
 sentiment, that an attempt should be made to 
 punish the offenders. Richard was by no means 
 deaf to this appeal, and by noon he set about in 
 earnest to see the laws executed. 
 
 Several stout young men were selected, and 
 taken apart with an appearance of secrecy, where 
 they received Some important charge from the 
 sheriff, immediately under the eyes, but far re- 
 moved from the ears, of all in the village. Pos- 
 sessed of a knowledge of their duty, these youths 
 hurried into the hills, with a bustling manner, as 
 if the fate of the world depended on their dili- 
 gence, and, at the same time, with an air of mys- 
 tery, as great as if they were engaged on secret 
 matters of the state. 
 
 At twelve precisely, a drum beat the “long 
 roll ” before the “ Bold Dragoon,” and Richard 
 appeared, accompanied by Captain Hollister, who 
 was clad in his vestments as commander of the 
 “ Templeton Light-Infantry,” when the former 
 demanded of the latter the aid of the posse comi- 
 tatus, in enforcing the laws of the country. We 
 have not room to record the speeches of the two 
 gentlemen on this occasion, but they are pre- 
 served in the columns of the little blue news- 
 paper, which is yet to be found on the file, and 
 are said to be highly creditable to the legal for- 
 mula of one of the parties, and to the military 
 precision of the other. Every thing had been 
 previously arranged, and, as the red-coated drum- 
 mer continued to roll out his clattering notes, 
 some five-and-twenty privates appeared in the 
 ranks, and arranged themselves in the order of 
 battle. 
 
 As this corps was composed of volunteers, 
 and was commanded by a man who had passed 
 the first five-and- thirty years of his life in camps 
 and garrisons, it was the nonpareil of military 
 science in that country, and was confidently pro- 
 nounced, by the judicious part of the Templeton 
 community, to be equal in skill and appearance 
 to any troops in the known world ; in physical 
 endowments they were, certainly, much superior ! 
 To this assertion there were but three dissenting 
 voices, and one dissenting opinion. The opinion 
 belonged to Marmaduke, who, however, saw no 
 necessity for its promulgation. Of the voices, one, 
 and that a pretty loud one, came from the spouse 
 of the commander himSelf, who frequently re- 
 proached her husband for condescending to lead 
 such an irregular band of warriors, after he had 
 filled the honorable station of sergeant-major to 
 a dashing corps of Virginian cavalry through 
 much of the recent war. 
 
 Another of these skeptical sentiments was In- 
 
186 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 variably expressed by Mr. Pump, whenever the 
 company paraded, generally in some such terms 
 as these, which were uttered with that sort of 
 meekness that a native of the island of our fore- 
 fathers is apt to assume, when he condescends 
 to praise the customs or character of her truant 
 progeny : 
 
 “ It’s mayhap that they knows sum’mat about 
 loading and firing, d’ye see ; but as for working 
 ship ! why a corporal’s guard of the Eoadishey’s 
 marines would back and fill on their quarters in 
 such a manner as to surround and captivate them 
 all in half a glass.” as there was no one to deny 
 this assertion, the marines of the Boadicea were 
 held in a corresponding degree of estimation. 
 
 The third unbeliever was Monsieur Le Quoi, 
 who merely whispered to the sheriff, that the 
 corps was one of the finest he had ever seen, 
 second only to the Mousquetaires of Le Bon 
 Louis ! However, as Mrs. Hollister thought there 
 was something like actual service in the present 
 appearances, and was, in consequence, too busily 
 engaged with certain preparations of her own, to 
 make her comments ; as Benjamin was absent, and 
 Monsieur Le Quoi too happy to find fault with 
 any thing, the corps escaped criticism and com- 
 parison altogether on this momentous day, when 
 they certainly had greater need of self-confidence 
 than on any other previous occasion. Marmaduke 
 was said to be again closeted with Mr. Yan der 
 School, and no interruption was offered to the 
 movements of the troops. At two o’clock pre- 
 cisely the corps shouldered arms, beginning on 
 the right wing, next to the veteran, and carrying 
 the motion through to the left with great regu- 
 larity. When each musket was quietly fixed in 
 its proper situation, the order was given to wheel 
 to the left, and march. As this was bringing raw 
 troops, at once, to face their enemy, it is not to 
 be supposed that the manoeuvre was executed 
 with their usual accuracy ; but as the music 
 struck up the inspiring air of Yankee-doodle, and 
 Richard, accompanied by Mr. Doolittle, preceded 
 the troops boldly down the street, Captain Hollis- 
 ter led on, with his head elevated to forty-five 
 degrees, with a little, low cocked-hat perched on 
 his crown, carrying a tremendous dragoon sabre 
 at a poise, and trailing at his heels a huge steel 
 scabbard, that had war in its very clattering. 
 There was a good deal of difficulty in getting all 
 the platoons (there were six) to look the same 
 way ; but, by the time they reached the defile of 
 the bridge, the troops were in sufficiently com- 
 pact order. In this manner they marched up the 
 hill to the summit of the mountain, no other al- 
 teration taking place in the disposition of the for- 
 
 ces, excepting that a mutual complaint was made, 
 by the sheriff and the magistrate, of a failure in 
 wind, which gradually brought these gentlemen 
 to the rear. It will be unnecessary to detail the 
 minute movements that succeeded. We shall 
 briefly say, that the scouts came in and reported, 
 that, so far from retreating, as had been antici- 
 pated, the fugitives had evidently gained a knowl- 
 edge of the attack, and were fortifying for a 
 desperate resistance. This intelligence certainly 
 made a material change, not only in the plans of 
 the leaders, but in the countenances of the sol- 
 diery also. The men looked at one another with 
 serious faces, and Hiram and Richard began to 
 consult together, apart. 
 
 At this conjuncture, they were joined by Billy 
 Kirby, who came along the highway, with his axe 
 under his arm, as much in advance of his team as 
 Captain Hollister had been of his troops in the 
 ascent. The wood-chopper was amazed at the 
 military array, but the sheriff eagerly availed him- 
 self of this powerful reinforcement, and com- 
 manded his assistance in putting the laws in force. 
 Billy held Mr. Jones in too much deference to ob- 
 ject ; and it was finally arranged that he should 
 be the bearer of a summons to the garrison to 
 surrender, before they proceeded to extremities. 
 The troops now divided, one party being led by 
 the captain, over the Vision, and were brought in 
 on the left of the cave, while the remainder advanced 
 upon its right, under the orders of the lieutenant. 
 Mr. Jones and Dr. Todd — for the surgeon was in 
 attendance also — appeared on the platform of 
 rock, immediately over the heads of the garrison, 
 though out of their sight. Hiram thought this 
 approaching too near, and he therefore accom- 
 panied Kirby along the side of the hill, to within 
 a safe distance of the fortifications, where he took 
 shelter behind a tree. Most of the men discov- 
 ered great accuracy of eye in bringing some object 
 in range between them and their enemy, and the 
 only two of the besiegers, who were left in plain 
 sight of the besieged, were Captain Hollister on 
 one side, and the wood-chopper on the other. 
 The veteran stood up boldly to the front, support- 
 ing his heavy sword, in one undeviating posi- 
 tion, with his eye fixed firmly on his enemy, 
 while the huge form of Billy was placed in 
 that kind of quiet repose, with either hand 
 thrust into his bosom, bearing his axe under hia 
 right arm, which permitted him, like his own 
 oxen, to rest standing. So far, not a word 
 had been exchanged between the belligerents. 
 The besieged had drawn together a pile of black 
 logs and branches of trees, which they had 
 formed into a chevaux-de-frise, making a little 
 
THE POSSE 
 
 circular abatis in front of the entrance to the 
 cave. As the ground was steep and slippery in 
 every direction around the place, and Benjamin 
 appeared behind the works on one side, and Natty 
 on the other, the arrangement was by no means 
 contemptible, especially as the front was suffi- 
 ciently guarded by the difficulty of the approach. 
 By this time, Kirby had received his orders, and 
 he advanced coolly along the mountain, picking 
 his way with the same indifference as if he were 
 pursuing his ordinary business. When he was 
 within a hundred feet of the works, the long and 
 much dreaded rifle of the Leather-stocking was 
 seen issuing from the parapet, and his voice cried 
 aloud : 
 
 “Keep off! Billy Kirby, keep off! I wish ye 
 no hai’m ; but if a man of ye all comes a step 
 nigher, there’ll be blood spilt atwixt us. God for- 
 giv(£ the one that draws it first, but so it must 
 be.” 
 
 “ Come, old chap,” said Billy, good-naturedly, 
 “ don’t be crabb’d, but hear what a man has got 
 to say. I’ve no consarn in the business, only to 
 see right ’twixt man and man ; and I don’t kear 
 the valie of a beetle ring which gets the better ; 
 but there’s Squire Doolittle, yonder behind the 
 beech sapling, he has invited me to come in and 
 ask you to give up to the law — that’s all.” 
 
 “ I see the varmint ! I see his clothes ! ” cried 
 the indignant Natty; “and if lie’ll only show so 
 much flesh as will bury a rifle bullet, thirty to the 
 pound, I’ll make him feel me. Go away, Billy, I 
 bid ye : you know my aim, and I bear you no 
 malice.” 
 
 “You over-calculate your aim, Natty,” said 
 the other, as he stepped behind a pine that stood 
 near him ; “ if you think to shoot a man through 
 a tree with a three-foot butt. I can lay this tree 
 right across you in ten minutes, by any man’s 
 watch, and in less time, too ; so be civil — I want 
 no more than what’s right.” 
 
 There was a simple seriousness in the counte- 
 nance of Natty, that showed he was much in 
 earnest ; but it was also evident that he was re- 
 luctant to shed human blood. He answered the 
 taunt of the wood-chopper, by saying : 
 
 “ I know you drop a tree where you will, Billy 
 Kirby ; but if you show a hand, or an arm, in do- 
 ing it, there’ll be bones to be set, and blood to 
 staunch. If it’s only to get into the cave that ye 
 want, wait till a two hours’ sun, and you may 
 enter it in welcome ; but come in now you shall 
 not. There’s one dead body already, lying on 
 the cold rocks, and there’s another in which the 
 life can hardly be said to stay. If you will come 
 in, there’ll be dead without as well as within.” 
 
 COMITATUS. 187 
 
 The wood-chopper stepped out fearlessly from 
 his cover, and cried : 
 
 “That’s fair; and what’s fair is right. He 
 wants you to stop till it’s two hours to sundown ; 
 and I see reason in the thing. A man can give 
 up when he’s wrong, if you don’t crowd him too 
 hard ; but you crowd a man, and he gets to be 
 like a stubborn ox — the more you beat, the worse 
 he kicks.” 
 
 The sturdy notions of independence main- 
 tained by Billy neither suited the emergency nor 
 the impatience of Mr. Jones, who was burning 
 with a desire to examine the hidden mysteries of 
 the cave. He therefore interrupted this amicable 
 dialogue with his own voice. 
 
 “ I command you, Nathaniel Bumppo, by my 
 authority, to surrender your person to the law,” 
 he cried. “ And I command you, gentlemen, to 
 aid me in performing my duty. Benjamin Pen- 
 guillan, I arrest you, and order you to follow me 
 to the jail of the county, by virtue of this war- 
 rant.” 
 
 “ I’d follow ye, Squire Dickens,” said Benja- 
 min, removing the pipe from his mouth (for dur- 
 ing the whole scene the ex-major-domo had been 
 very composedly smoking) ; “ ay ! I’d sail in your 
 wake, to the end of the world, if-so-be that there 
 was such a place, where there isn’t, seeing that 
 it’s round. Now mayhap, Master Hollister, hav- 
 ing lived all your life on shore, you isn’t acquainted 
 that the world, d’ye see — ” 
 
 “ Surrender ! ” interrupted the veteran, in a 
 voice that startled his hearers, and which actually 
 caused his own forces to recoil several paces ; 
 “surrender, Benjamin Pengullum, or expect no 
 quarter.” 
 
 “Damn your quarter!” said Benjamin, rising 
 from the log on which he was seated, and taking 
 a squint along the barrel of the swivel, which 
 had been brought on the hill during the night, 
 and now formed the means of defence on his side 
 of the works. “ Look you, master or captain, 
 thof I questions if ye know the name of a rope, 
 except the one that’s to hang ye, there’s no need 
 of singing, out, as if ye was hailing a deaf man on 
 a top-gallant yard. Mayhap you think you’ve 
 got my true name in your sheep-skin ; but what' 
 British sailor finds it worth while to sail in these 
 seas, without a sham on his stern, in case of need, 
 d’ye see. If you call me Penguillan, you calls 
 me by the name of the man on whose land, d’ye 
 see, I hove into daylight ; and he was a gentle- 
 man ; and that’s more than my worst enemy will 
 say of any of the family of Benjamin Stubbs.” 
 
 “ Send the warrant round to me, and I’ll put 
 in an alias,” cried Hiram, from behind his cover. 
 
188 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “Put in a jackass, and you’ll put in yourself, 
 Mister Doo-but-little,” shouted Benjamin, who 
 kept squinting along his little iron tube, with 
 great steadiness. 
 
 “ I give you but one moment to yield,” cried 
 Richard. “ Benjamin ! Benjamin ! this is not the 
 gratitude I expected from you.” 
 
 “I tell you, Richard Jones,” said Natty, who 
 dreaded the sheriffs influence over his comrade ; 
 “though the canister the gal brought be lost, 
 there’s powder enough in the cave to lift the rock 
 you stand on. I’ll take off my roof if you don’t 
 hold your peace.” 
 
 “ I think it beneath the dignity of my office to 
 parley further with the prisoners,” the sheriff 
 observed to his companion, while they both re- 
 tired with a precipitancy that Captain Hollister 
 mistook for the signal to advance. 
 
 “ Charge baggonet ! ” shouted the veteran ; 
 “ march ! ” 
 
 Although this signal was certainly expected, 
 it took the assailed a little by surprise, and the 
 veteran approached the works, crying, “ Courage, 
 my brave lads ! give them no quarter upless they 
 surrender ; ” and struck a furious blow upward 
 with his sabre, that would have divided the stew- 
 ard into moieties, by subjecting him to the pro- 
 cess of decapitation, but for the fortunate inter- 
 terence of the muzzle of the swivel. As it was, 
 the gun was dismounted at the critical moment 
 that Benjamin was applying his pipe to the prim- 
 ing, and, in consequence, spine five or six dozen 
 of rifle bullets were projected into the air, in 
 nearly a perpendicular line. Philosophy teaches 
 us that the atmosphere will not retain lead ; and 
 two pounds of the metal, moulded into bullets of 
 thirty to the pound, after describing an ellipsis 
 in their journey, returned to the earth rattling 
 among the branches of the trees directly over the 
 heads of the troops stationed in the rear of their 
 captain. Much of the success of an attack, made 
 by irregular soldiers, depends on the direction in 
 which they are first got in motion. In the present 
 instance, it was retrograde, and, in less than a 
 minute after the bellowing report of the swivel 
 among the rocks and caverns, the whole weight 
 of the attack from the left rested on the prowess 
 of the single arm of the veteran. Benjamin re- 
 ceived a severe contusion from the recoil of his 
 gun, which produced a short stupor, during 
 which period the ex-steward was prostrate on the 
 ground. Captain Hollister availed himself of 
 this circumstance to scramble over the breast- 
 work, and obtain a footing in the bastion — for 
 such was the nature of the fortress, as connected 
 with the cave. The moment the veteran found 
 
 himself within the works of his enemy, he rushed 
 to the edge of the fortification, and, waving his 
 sabre over his head, shouted : 
 
 “ Victory ! come on, my brave boys, the work’s 
 our own ! ” 
 
 All this was perfectly military, and was such 
 an example as a gallant officer was in some meas- 
 ure bound to exhibit to his men ; but the outcry 
 was the Unlucky cause of turning the tide of suc- 
 cess. Natty, who had been keeping a vigilant eye 
 on the wood-chopper, and the enemy immediately 
 before him, wheeled at this alarm, and was ap- 
 palled at beholding his comrade on the ground, 
 and the veteran standing on his own bulwark, 
 giving forth the cry of victory ! The muzzle of 
 the long rifle was turned instantly toward the 
 captain. There was a moment when the life of 
 the old soldier was in great jeopardy ; but the 
 object to shoot at was both too large and too near 
 for the Leather-stocking, who, instead of pulling 
 his trigger, applied the gun to the rear of his 
 enemy, and by a powerful shove sent him outside 
 of the works with much greater rapidity than he 
 had entered them. The spot on which Captain 
 Hollister alighted was directly in front, where, as 
 his feet touched the ground, so steep and slippery 
 was the side of the mountain, it seemed to recede 
 from under them. His motion was swift, and so 
 irregular as utterly to confuse the faculties of the 
 old soldier. During its continuance, he supposed 
 himself to be mounted, and charging through the 
 ranks of his enemy. At every tree he made a blow, 
 of course, as at a foot-soldier ; and just as he was 
 making the cut “ St George ” at a half-burnt 
 sapling, he landed in the highway, and, to his 
 utter amazement, at the feet of his own spouse. 
 When Mrs. Hollister, who was toiling up the hill, 
 followed by at least twenty curious boys, leaning 
 with one hand on the staff with which she ordi- 
 narily walked, and bearing in the other an empty 
 bag, witnessed this exploit of her husband, indig- 
 nation immediately got the better, not only of 
 her religion, but of her philosophy. 
 
 “ Why, sargeant ! is it flying ye are ? ” she 
 cried — “ that I should live to see a husband of 
 mine turn his back to an inimy ! and such a one ! 
 Here I have been telling the b’ys, as we come 
 along, all about the saige of Yorrektown, and how 
 ye was hurted ; and how ye’d be acting the 
 same ag’in the day ; and I mate ye retraiting jist 
 as the first gun is fired. Och ! I may trow away 
 the bag! for if there’s plunder, ’twill not be the 
 wife of sich as yeerself that will be privileged to 
 be getting the same. They do say, too, there is a 
 power of goold and silver in the place — the Lord 
 forgive me for setting my heart on worrldly things ; 
 
MAJOR EFFINGHAM. 
 
 180 
 
 but what falls in the battle, there’s scripter for be- 
 lieving, is the just property of the victor.” 
 
 “ Retreating ! ” exclaimed the amazed veter- 
 an ; “ where’s my horse ? he has been shot under 
 me— I—” 
 
 “Is the man mad?” interrupted his wife — 
 “ divil the horse do ye own, sargeant, and ye’re 
 nothing but a shabby captain of malaishy. Oh ! 
 If the ra’al captain was here, ’tis the other way 
 ye’d be riding, dear, or you would not follow your 
 laider ! ” 
 
 While this worthy couple were thus discussing 
 events, the battle began to rage more violently 
 than ever above them. When Leather-stocking 
 saw his enemy fairly under headway, as Benja- 
 min would express it, he gave his attention again 
 to the right wing of the assailants. It would 
 have been easy for Kirby, with his powerful 
 frame, to have seized the moment to scale the 
 bastion, and, with his great strength, to have 
 sent both of its defenders in pursuit of the vet- 
 eran ; but hostility appeared to be the passion 
 that the wood-chopper indulged the least in at 
 that moment, for, in a voice that was heard by 
 the retreating left wing, he shouted : 
 
 “ Hurra ! well done, captain ! keep it up ! how 
 he handles bis bush-hook ! he makes nothing of a 
 sapling ! ” and such other encouraging exclama- 
 tions to the flying veteran, until, overcome by 
 mirth, the good-natured fellow seated himself on 
 the ground, kicking the earth with delight, and 
 giving vent to peal after peal of laughter. 
 
 Natty stood all this time in a menacing atti- 
 tude, with his rifle pointed over the breastwork, 
 watching with a quick and cautious eye the least 
 movement of the assailants. The outcry unfor- 
 tunately tempted the ungovernable curiosity of 
 Hiram to take a peep from behind his cover at 
 the state of the battle. Though this evolution 
 was performed with great caution, in protecting 
 his front, he left, like many a better commander, 
 his rear exposed to the attacks of his enemy. Mr. 
 Doolittle belonged physically to a class of his 
 countrymen, to whom Nature has denied, in their 
 formation, the use of curved lines. Every thing 
 about him was either straight or angular. But 
 his tailor was a woman who worked, like a regi- 
 mental contractor, by a set of rules that gave the 
 same configuration to the whole human species. 
 Consequently, when Mr. Doolittle leaned forward 
 in the manner described, a loose drapery appeared 
 behind the tree, at which the rifle of Natty was 
 pointed with the quickness of lightning. A less 
 experienced man would have aimed at the flowing 
 robe, which hung like a festoon half-way to the 
 earth ; but the Leather-stocking knew both the 
 
 man and his female tailor better ; and when tho 
 smart report of the rifle was heard, Kirby, who 
 watched the whole manoeuvre in breathless ex- 
 pectation, saw the bark fly from the beach, and 
 the cloth, at some distance above the loose folds, 
 wave at the same instant. No battery was ever 
 unmasked with more promptitude than Hiram 
 advanced from behind the tree at this sum- 
 mons. 
 
 He made two or three steps, with great pre- 
 cision, to the front, and, placing one hand on the 
 afflicted part, stretched forth the other, with a 
 menacing air toward Natty, and cried aloud : 
 
 “ Gawl darn ye ! this sha’nt be settled so easy ; 
 I’ll follow it up from the ‘common pleas’ to the 
 ‘ court of errors.’ ” 
 
 Such a shocking imprecation, from the mouth 
 of so orderly a man as Squire Doolittle, with the 
 fearless manner in which he exposed himself, to- 
 gether with, perhaps, the knowledge that Natty’s 
 rifle was unloaded, encouraged the troops in the 
 rear, who gave a loud shout, and fired a volley 
 into the tree-tops, after the contents of the swivel. 
 Animated by their own noise, the men now 
 rushed on in earnest ; and Billy Kirby, who 
 thought the joke, good as it was, had gone far 
 enough, was in the act of scaling the works, when 
 Judge Temple appeared on the opposite side, ex- 
 claiming : 
 
 “ Silence and peace ! why do I see murder and 
 bloodshed attempted ? is not the law sufficient to 
 protect itself, that armed bands must, be gath- 
 eredy as in rebellion and war, to see justice per- 
 formed ? ” 
 
 “ Tis the posse comitatus,” shouted the sheriff, 
 from a distant rock, “ who—” 
 
 “Say rather a posse of demons. I command 
 the peace.” 
 
 “ Hold ! shed not blood ! ” cried a voice from 
 the top of the Vision, u Hold, for the sake of 
 Heaven, fire no more ! all shall be yielded! you 
 shall enter the cave ! ” 
 
 Amazement produced the desired effect. 
 Natty, who had reloaded his piece, quietly seated 
 himself on the logs,, and rested his head on his 
 hand, while the “ Light Infantry ” ceased their 
 military movements, and waited the issue in sus- 
 pense. 
 
 In less than a minute Edwards came rushing 
 down the hill, followed by Major Hartmann with 
 a velocity that was surprising for his years. They 
 reached the terrace in an instant, from which 
 the youth led the way, by the hollow in the rock, 
 to the mouth of the cave, into which they both 
 entered ; leaving all without silent, and gazing 
 after them with astonishment. 
 
190 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XL. 
 
 “ I am dumb. 
 
 Were you the doctor, and I knew you not ? ” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 During the five or six minutes that elapsed 
 before the youth and Major reappeared, Judge 
 Temple and the sheriff, together with most of the 
 volunteers, ascended to the terrace, where the 
 latter began to express their conjectures of the 
 result, and to recount their individual services in 
 the conflict. But the sight of the peacemakers 
 ascending the ravine shut every mouth. 
 
 On a rude chair, covered with undressed deer- 
 skins, they supported a human being, whom they 
 seated carefully and respectfully in the midst of 
 the assembly. His head was covered by long, 
 smooth locks of the color of snow. His dress, 
 which was studiously neat and clean, was com- 
 posed of such fabrics as none but the wealthiest 
 classes wear, but was threadbare and patched ; 
 and on his feet were placed a pair of moccasins, 
 ornamented in the best manner of Indian inge- 
 nuity. The outlines of his face were grave and 
 dignified, though his vacant eye, which opened 
 and turned slowly to the faces of those around 
 him in unmeaning looks, too surely announced 
 that, the period had arrived when age brings the 
 mental imbecility of childhood. 
 
 Natty had followed the supporters of this un- 
 expected object to the top of the cave, and took 
 his station at a little distance behind him, lean- 
 ing on his rifle, in the midst of his pursuers, 
 with a fearlessness that showed that heavier in- 
 terests than those which affected himself were to 
 be decided. Major Hartmann placed himself be- 
 side the aged man, uncovered, with his whole 
 soul beaming through those eyes which so com- 
 monly danced with frolic and humor. Edwards 
 rested with one hand familiarly but affectionate- 
 ly on the chair, though his heart was swelling 
 with emotions that denied him utterance. 
 
 All eyes were gazing intently, but each tongue 
 continued mute. At length the decrepit stranger, 
 turning his vacant looks from face to face, made 
 a . feeble attempt to rise, while a faint smile 
 crossed his wasted face, like an habitual effort 
 at courtesy, as he said, in a hollow, tremulous 
 voice : 
 
 “ Be pleased to be seated, gentlemen. The 
 council will open immediately. Each one, who 
 love3 a good and virtuous king, will wish to see 
 these colonies continue loyal. Be seated — I pray 
 you, be seated, gentlemen. The troops shall 
 halt for the night.” 
 
 “ This is the wandering of insanity ! ” said 
 Marmaduke ; “ who will explain this scene ? ” 
 
 “ No, sir,” said Edwards, firmly, “ ’tis only 
 the decay of nature ; who is answerable for its 
 pitiful condition, remains to be shown.” 
 
 “ Will the gentleman dine with us, my son ? ” 
 said the old stranger, turning to a voice that he 
 both knew and loved. “ Order a repast suitable 
 for his Majesty’s officers. You know we have 
 the best of game always at command.” 
 
 “ Who is this man ? ” asked Marmaduke, in a 
 hurried voice, in which the dawnings of conjec- 
 ture united with interest to put the question. 
 
 “ This man ! ” returned Edwards calmly, his 
 voice, however, gradually rising as he proceeded ; 
 “ this man, sir, whom you behold hid in caverns, 
 and deprived of every thing that can make life 
 desirable, was once the companion and counsel- 
 lor of those who ruled your country. This man, 
 whom you see helpless and feeble, was once a 
 warrior, so brave and fearless, that even the in- 
 trepid natives gave him the name of the Fire- 
 eater. This man, whom you now see destitute 
 of even the ordinary comfort of a cabin, in which 
 to shelter his head, was once the owner of great 
 riches — and, Judge Temple, he was the rightful 
 proprietor of this very soil on which we stand. 
 This man was the father of — ” 
 
 “ This, then,” cried Marmaduke, with a power- 
 ful emotion, “ this, then, is the lost Major Effing- 
 ham ! ” 
 
 “ Lost indeed,” said the youth, fixing a pierc- 
 ing eye on the other. 
 
 “And you! and you!*’ continued the Judge, 
 articulating with difficulty. 
 
 “ I am his grandson.” 
 
 A minute passed in profound silence. All 
 eyes were fixed on the speakers, and even the 
 old German appeared to wait the issue in deep 
 anxiety. But the moment of agitation soon 
 passed. Marmaduke raised his head from his 
 bosom, where it had sunk, not in shame, but in 
 devout mental thanksgivings, and, as large tears 
 fell over his fine, manly face, he grasped the hand 
 of the youth warmly, and said : 
 
 “ Oliver, I forgive all thy harshness — all thy 
 suspicions. I now see it all. I forgive thee 
 every thing, but suffering this aged man to dwell 
 in such a place, when not only my habita- 
 tion, but my fortune, were at his and thy com- 
 mand.” 
 
 “ He’s true as ter steel ! ” shouted Major 
 Hartmann ; “ titn’t I tell you, lat, dat Marmatuke 
 Temple vast a frient dat woult never fail in ter 
 dime as of neet ? ” 
 
 “It is true, Judge Temple, that my opinions 
 
OLIVER’S EXPLANATION. 
 
 191 
 
 of your conduct have been staggered by what 
 this worthy gentleman has told me. When I 
 found it imppssible to convey my grandfather 
 back whence the enduring love of this old man 
 brought him, without detection and exposure, I 
 went to the Mohawk in quest of one of his for- 
 mer comrades, in whose justice I had dependence, 
 lie is your friend, Judge Temple, but, if what he 
 says be true, both my father and myself may 
 have judged you harshly.” 
 
 “ You name your father ! ” said Marmaduke, 
 tenderly — “ was he, indeed, lost in the packet ? ” 
 
 “ He was. He had left me, after several 
 years of fruitless application and comparative 
 poverty, in Nova Scotia, to obtain the compensa- 
 tion for his losses which the British commission- 
 ers had at length awarded. After spending a 
 year in England, he was returning to Halifax, on 
 his way to a government to which he had been 
 appointed, in the West Indies, intending to go 
 to the place where my grandfather had sojourned 
 during and since the war, and take him with us.” 
 
 “ But thou ! ” said Marmaduke, with powerful 
 interest ; “ I had thought that thou hadst perished 
 with him.” 
 
 A flush passed over the cheeks of the young 
 man, who gazed about him at the wondering faces 
 of the volunteers, and continued silent. Marma- 
 duke turned to the veteran captain, who just then 
 rejoined his command, and said : 
 
 “ March thy Soldiers back again, and dismiss 
 them ; the zeal of the sheriff has much mistaken 
 his duty. — Dr. Todd, I will thank you to attend 
 to the injury which Hiram Doolittle has received 
 in this untoward affair.— Richard, you will oblige 
 rtie by Seeding up the carriage to the top of the 
 hill. — Benjamin, return to your duty in my 
 family.” 
 
 Unwelcome as these orders were to most of 
 the auditors, the suspicion that they had some- 
 what exceeded the wholesome restraints of the 
 law, and the habitual respect with which all the 
 commands of the Judge Avere received, induced a 
 prompt compliance. 
 
 When they were gone, and the rock was left 
 to tire parties most interested in an explanation, 
 Marmaduke, pointing to the aged Major Effingham, 
 said to his grandson : 
 
 “ Had we not better remove thy parent from 
 this open place, until my carriage can arrive ? ” 
 
 “ Pardon me, sir, the air does him good, and 
 he has taken it whenever there was no dread of 
 a discovery. I know not how to act, Judge Tem- 
 ple ; ought I, can I, suffer Major Effingham to be- 
 come an inmate of your family ? ” 
 
 Thou shalt be thyself the judge,” said Mar- 
 
 maduke. “ Thy father was ray early friend. He 
 intrusted his fortune to my care. When we sepa- 
 rated, he had such confidence in me, that he 
 wished no security, no evidence of the trust, even 
 had there been time or convenience for exacting 
 it. This thou hast heard ? ” 
 
 “ Most truly, sir,” said Edwards, or rather 
 Effingham, as we must now call him. 
 
 “ We differed in politics. If the cause of this 
 country was successful, the trust was sacred with 
 me, for none knew of thy father’s interest. If the 
 crown still held its sway, it would be easy to 
 restore the property of so loyal a subject as' Colonel 
 Effingham. Is not this plain ? ” 
 
 “ The premises are good, sir,” continued the 
 youth, with the same incredulous look as be- 
 fore. 
 
 “ Listen — listen, poy,” said the German. 
 “ Dere is not a hair as of ter rogue in ter het of 
 her Tchooge.” 
 
 “We all know the issue of the struggle,” con- 
 tinued Marmaduke, disregarding both. “ Thy 
 grandfather was left in Connecticut, regularly 
 supplied by thy father with the means of such a 
 subsistence as suited his wants. This I well knew, 
 though I never had intercourse with him, even in 
 our happiest days. Thy father retired with the 
 troops to prosecute his claims on England. At all 
 events, his losses must be great, for his real 
 estates were sold, and I became the lawful pur- 
 chaser. It was not unnatural to wish that he might 
 have no bar to its just recovery.” 
 
 “There was none, but the difficulty of pro- 
 viding for so many claimants.” 
 
 “ But there would have been one, and an in- 
 superable One, had I announced to the world that 
 I held these estates, multiplied, by the times and 
 ray industry, a hundred-fold in value, only as his 
 trustee. Thou knowest that I supplied him with 
 considerable sums, immediately after the war.” 
 
 “You did, until — ” 
 
 “My letters were returned unopened. Thy 
 father had much of thy own spirit, Oliver ; he was 
 sometimes hasty and rash.” The J udge continued, 
 in a self-condemning manner : “ Perhaps my fault 
 lies the other way ; I may possibly look too far 
 ahead, and calculate too deeply. It certainly was 
 a severe trial to allow the man whom I moot 
 loved, to think ill of me for seven years, in order 
 that he might honestly apply for his just remu- 
 nerations. But, had he opened my last letters, 
 thOu wouldst have learned the whole truth. 
 Those I sent him to England, by what my agent 
 writes me, he did read. He died, Oliver, knowing 
 all. He died, my friend, and I thought thou hadst 
 died with him.” 
 
192 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 “Our poverty would not permit us to pay for 
 two passages,” said the youth, with the extraor- 
 dinary emotion with which he ever alluded to the 
 degraded state of his family ; “I was left in the 
 Province to wait for his return, and, when the 
 sad news of his loss reached me, I was nearly 
 penniless.” 
 
 “ And what didst thou, boy ? ” asked Marma- 
 duke in a faltering voice. 
 
 “ I took my passage here in search of my 
 grandfather ; for I well knew that his resources 
 were gone, with the half-pay of my father. On 
 reaching his abode, I learned that he had left it 
 in secret ; though the reluctant hireling, who had 
 deserted him in his poverty, owned to my urgent 
 entreaties, that he believed he had been carried 
 away by an old man who had formerly been his 
 servant. I knew at once it was Natty, for my 
 father often — ” 
 
 “ Was Natty a servant of thy grandfather ? ” 
 exclaimed the Judge. 
 
 Of that too were you ignorant ? ” said the 
 youth in evident surprise. 
 
 “ How should I know it ? I never met the 
 major, nor was the name of Bumppo ever men- 
 tioned to me. I knew him only as a man of the 
 woods, and one who lived by hunting. Such men 
 are too common to excite surprise.” 
 
 “He was reared in, the family of my grand- 
 father; served him for many years during their 
 campaigns at the West, where he became attached 
 to the woods ; and he was left here as a kind of 
 locum tenens, on the lands that old Mohegan 
 (whose life my grandfather once saved) induced 
 the Delawares to grant to him, when they ad- 
 mitted him as an honorary member of their tribe.” 
 
 “ This, then, is thy Indian blood ? ” 
 
 “ I have no other,” said Edwards, smiling — 
 “ Major Effingham was adopted as the son of Mo- 
 hegan, who at that time was the greatest man in 
 his nation ; and my father, who visited those 
 people when a boy, received the name of the Eagle 
 from them, on account of the shape of his face, as 
 I understand. They have extended his title to me. 
 I have no other Indian blood or breeding; though 
 I have seen the hour, Judge Temple, when I 
 could wish that such had been my lineage and ed- 
 ucation.” 
 
 “Proceed with thy tale,” said Marmaduke. 
 
 “ I have but little more to say, sir. I followed 
 to the lake where I had so often been told that 
 Natty dwelt, and found him maintaining his old 
 master in secret ; for even he could not bear to 
 exhibit to the world, in his poverty and dotage, a 
 man whom a whole people once looked up to with 
 respect.” 
 
 “ And what did you ? ” 
 
 “ What did I ! I spent my last monry in pur- 
 chasing a rifle, clad myself in a coarse garb, and 
 learned to be a hunter by the side or Leather- 
 stocking. You know the rest, Judge Temple.” 
 
 “ Ant vere vast old Fritz Hartmann ? ” said the 
 German, reproachfully ; “ didst never hear a name 
 as of olt Fritz Hartmann from ter mout of ter 
 fader, lat ? ” 
 
 “ I may have been mistaken, gentlemen,” re- 
 turned the youth ; “ but I had pride, and could 
 not submit to such an exposure as this day even 
 has reluctantly brought to light. I had plans 
 that might have been visionary; but, should my 
 parent survive till autumn, I purposed taking him 
 with me to the city, where we have distant rela- 
 tives, who must have learned to forget the Tory 
 by this time. He decays rapidly,” he continued, 
 mournfully, “ and must soon lie by the side of 
 old Mohegan.” 
 
 The air being pure, and the day fine, the party 
 continued conversing on the rock, until the wheels 
 of Judge Temple’s carriage were heard clattering 
 up the side of the mountain, during which time 
 the conversation was maintained with deep inter- 
 est, each moment clearing up some doubtful 
 action, and lessening the antipathy of the youth 
 to Marmaduke. He no longer objected to the re- 
 moval of his grandfather, who displayed a childish 
 pleasure when he found himself seated once more 
 in a carriage. When placed in the ample hall of 
 the mansion-house, the eyes of the aged veteran 
 turned slowly to the objects in the apartment, and 
 a look like the dawn of . intellect would, for mo- 
 ments, flit across his features, when he invariably 
 offered some useless courtesies to those near him, 
 wandering painfully in his subjects. The exercise 
 and the change soon produced an exhaustion that 
 caused them to remove him to his bed, where 
 he lay for hours, evidently sensible of the change 
 in his comforts, and exhibiting that mortifying 
 picture of human nature, which too plainly shows 
 that the propensities of the animal continue even 
 after the nobler part of the creature appears to 
 have vanished. 
 
 Until his parent was placed comfortably in 
 bed, with Natty sealed at his side, Effingham did 
 not quit him. He then obeyed a summons to the 
 library of the Judge, where he found the latter, 
 with Major Hartmann, waiting for him. 
 
 “ Read this paper, Oliver,” said Marmaduke to 
 him, as he entered, “ and thou wilt find that, so 
 far from intending thy family wrong during life, it 
 has been my care to see that justice should be 
 done at even a later day.” 
 
 The youth took the paper, which his first 
 
THE JUDGE’S WILL. 
 
 193 
 
 glance told him was the will of the Judge. Hur- 
 ried arid agitated as he was, he discovered that 
 the date corresponded with the time of the un- 
 usual depression of Marmaduke. As he proceed- 
 ed, his eyes began to moisten, and the hand which 
 held the instrument shook violently. 
 
 The will commenced with the usual forms, 
 spun out by the ingenuity of Mr. Van der School ; 
 but, after this subject was fairly exhausted, the peri 
 of Marmaduke became plainly visible. In clear, 
 distinct, manly, and even eloquent language, he 
 recounted his obligations to Colonel Effingham, the 
 nature of their connection, and the circumstances 
 in which they separated. He then proceeded to 
 relate the motives of his long silence, mentioning, 
 however, large sums that he had forwardde to his 
 friend, which had been returned with the letters 
 unopened. After this, he spoke of his search for 
 the grandfather, who had unaccountably disap- 
 peared, and his fears that the direct heir of the 
 trust was buried in the ocean with his father. 
 
 After, in short, recounting in a clear narrative, 
 the events which our readers must now be able to 
 connect, he proceeded to make a fair and exact 
 statement' of the sums left in his care by Colonel 
 Effingham. A devise of his whole estate to cer- 
 tain responsible trustees followed ; to hold the 
 same for the benefit, in equal moieties, of his 
 daughter, on one part, and of Oliver Effingham, 
 formerly a major in the army of Great Britain, 
 and of his son Edward Effingham, and of his son 
 Edward Oliver Effingham, or to the survivor of 
 them, and the descendants of such survivor, for- 
 ever, on the other part. The trust was to endure 
 until 1810, when, if no person appeared, or could 
 be found, after sufficient notice, to claim the moi- 
 ety so devised, then a certain sum, calculating the 
 principal and interest of his debt to Colonel Ef- 
 fingham, was to be paid to the heirs-at-law of the 
 Effingham family, and the bulk of his estate was 
 to be conveyed in fee to his daughter, or her 
 heirs. 
 
 The tears fell from the eyes of the young man, 
 as he read this undeniable testimony of the good 
 faith of Marmaduke, and his bewildered gaze was 
 still fastened on the paper, when a Voice, that 
 thrilled on every nerve, spoke near him, saying : 
 
 “ Do you yet doubt us, Oliver ? ” 
 
 “I have never doubted you / ” cried the youth, 
 recovering his recollection and his voice, as he 
 sprarig to seize the hand of Elizabeth ; “ no, not 
 one moment has my faith in you wavered.” 
 
 “ And my father — ” 
 
 “ God bless him! ” 
 
 “ I tharik thee, my son,” said the Judge, ex- 
 changing a warm pressure of the hand wHh the 
 52 
 
 youth ; “ but we have both erred : thou hast been 
 too hasty, and I have been too slow. One half of 
 my estates shall be thine as soon as they can be 
 conveyed to thee ; and, if what my suspicions tell 
 me be true, I suppose the other must follow 
 speedily.” He took the hand which he held, and 
 united it with that of his daughter, and motioned 
 toward the door to the major. 
 
 “ I telt you vat, gal ! ” said t£e old German, 
 good-humoredly ; “ if I vast as I vast ven I servii 
 mit his grandfader om ter lakes, ter lazy tog 
 Shouldn’t vin ter prize as for nottin.” 
 
 “Come, c6me, old Fritz,” said the Judge; 
 “you are seventy, not seventeen ; Richard waits 
 for you with a bowl of eggnog, in the hall.” 
 
 “Richart! ter duyvel !” exclaimed the other, 
 hastening out of the room ;■ he iriakes ter nog 
 ast for ter horse. I vilt show ter sheriff mit my 
 own hants ! Ter duyvel ! I pelieve he sweetens 
 mit ter Y ankee melasses ! ” 
 
 Marmaduke smiled and nodded affectionately 
 at the young couple, and closed the door after 
 them. If any of our readers expect that we are 
 going to open it again, for their gratification, they 
 are mistaken. 
 
 The tete-d-tete continued for a very unreason- 
 able time — how long we shall not say ; but it was 
 ended by six o’clock in the evening, for at that 
 hour Monsieur Le Quoi made his appearance 
 agreeably to the appointment of the preceding 
 day, and claimed the ear of Miss Temple. He 
 was admitted ; when he made an offer of his hand, 
 with much suavity, together with his “ amis beeg 
 and leet’, his pere, his m&re, and his suer 3-boosh.” 
 Elizabeth might, possibly, have previously entered 
 into some embarrassing and binding engagements 
 with Oliver, for she declined the tender of all, in 
 terms as polite, though perhaps a little more 
 decided, than those in which they were made. 
 
 The Frenchman soon joined the German and 
 the sheriff in the hall, who compelled him to take 
 a seat with them at the table, where, by the aid 
 of punch, wine, and eggnog, they soon extracted 
 from the complaisant Monsieur Le Quoi the nature 
 Bf his visit. If was' evident that he had made the 
 offer, as a duty which a well-bred man owed to a 
 lady in such a retired place, before he left the 
 country, and that his feelings were but very little, 
 if at all, interested in the matter. After a few 
 potations, the waggish pair persuaded the exhila- 
 rated Frenchman that there was an inexcusable 
 partiality in offering to one lady, and not extend- 
 ing a similar courtesy to another. Consequently* 
 about nine, Monsieur Le Quoi sallied forth to the 
 rectory, on a similar mission to Miss Grant, which 
 proved as' successful as his first effort in love. 
 
194 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 When he returned to the mansion-house, at 
 ten, Richard and the major were still seated at 
 the table. They attempted to persuade the Gaul, 
 as the sheriff called him, that he should next try 
 Remarkable Pettibone. But, though stimulated 
 by mental excitement and wine, two hours of ab- 
 struse logic were thrown away on this subject ; 
 for he declined their advice, with a pertinacity 
 truly astonishing in so polite a man. 
 
 When Benjamin lighted Monsieur Le Quoi 
 from the door, he said, at parting : 
 
 “If-so-be, Mounsheer, you’d run alongside 
 Mistress Pettybones, as the Squire Dickens was 
 bidding ye, ’tis my notion you’d have been grap- 
 pled ; in which case, d’ye see, you mought have 
 been troubled in swinging clear again in a hand- 
 some manner ; for thof Miss ’Lizzy and the par- 
 son’s young’ un be tidy little vessels, that shoot by 
 a body on a wind, Mistress Remarkable is sum’mat 
 of a galliot fashion ; when you once takes ’em in 
 tow, they doesn’t like to be cast off again.” 
 
 CHAPTER XLI. 
 
 “ Tes, sweep ye on !— We will not leave, 
 
 For them who triumph those who grieve. 
 
 With that armada gay 
 Be laughter loud, and jocund shout— 
 
 — But with that skiff 
 Abides the minstrel tale.” 
 
 Lokd op the Isi.es. 
 
 The events of our tale carry us through the 
 Bummer ; and after making nearly the circle of 
 the year, we must conclude our labors in the de- 
 lightful month of October. Many important inci- 
 dents had, however, occurred in the intervening 
 period ; a few of which it may be necessary to 
 recount. 
 
 The two principal were the marriage of Oliver 
 and Elizabeth, and the death of Major Effingham. 
 They both took place early in September ; and 
 the former preceded the latter only a few days. 
 The old man passed away like the last glimmering 
 of a taper ; and, though his death cast a melancholy 
 over the family, grief could not follow such an 
 end. 
 
 One of the chief concerns of Marmaduke was 
 to reconcile the even conduct of a magistrate with 
 the course that his feelings dictated to the crimi- 
 nals. The day succeeding the discovery at the 
 cave, however, Natty and Benjamin reentered 
 the jail peaceably, where they continued, well fed 
 and comfortable, until the return of an express to 
 Albany, who brought the governor’s pardon to 
 
 the Leather-stocking. In the mean time, proper 
 means were employed to satisfy Hiram for the 
 assaults on his person ; and on the same day the 
 two comrades issued together into society again, 
 with their characters not at all affected by the 
 imprisonment. 
 
 Mr. Doolittle began to discover that neither 
 architecture nor bis law was quite suitable to 
 the growing wealth and intelligence of the settle- 
 ment ; and after exacting the last cent that was 
 attainable in his compromises, to use the language 
 of the country, he “ pulled up stakes,” and pro- 
 ceeded farther west, scattering his professional 
 science and legal learning through the land ; ves- 
 tiges of both of which are to be discovered there 
 even to the present hour. 
 
 Poor Jotham, whose life paid the forfeiture of 
 his folly, acknowledged, before he died, that his 
 reasons for believing in a mine were extracted 
 from the lips of a sibyl, who, by looking in a magic 
 glass, was enabled to discover the hidden treasures 
 of the earth. Such superstition was frequent in 
 the new settlements ; and, after the first surprise 
 was over, the better part of the community forgot 
 the subject. But, at the same time that it removed 
 from the breast of Richard a lingering suspicion 
 of the acts of the three hunters, it conveyed a 
 mortifying lesson to him, which brought many 
 quiet hours, in future, to his cousin Marmaduke. 
 It may be remembered that the sheriff confidently 
 pronounced this to be no “ visionary ” scheme, 
 and that word was enough to shut his lips, at any 
 time within the next ten years. 
 
 Monsieur Le Quoi, who has been introduced 
 to our readers because no picture of that country 
 would be faithful without some such character, 
 found the island of Martinique, and his “ sucre- 
 boosh,” in possession of the English ; but Marma- 
 duke and his family were much gratified in soon 
 hearing that he had returned to his bureau, in 
 Paris ; where he afterward issued yearly bulletins 
 of his happiness, and of his gratitude to his friends 
 in America. 
 
 With this brief explanation, we must return 
 to our narrative. Let the American reader ima- 
 gine one of our mildest October mornings, when 
 the sun seems a ball of silvery fire, and the elas- 
 ticity of the air is felt while it is inhaled, impart- 
 ing vigor and life to the whole system ; the weather, 
 neither too warm nor too cold, but of that happy 
 temperature which stirs the blood, without bring- 
 ing the lassitude of spring. It was on such a 
 morning, about the middle of the month, that 
 Oliver entered the hall where Elizabeth was issu- 
 ing her usual orders for the day, and requested 
 her to join him in a short excursion to the lake- 
 
EFFINGHAM’S GENEROSITY. 
 
 side. The tender melancholy m the manner of 
 her husband caught the attention of Elizabeth, 
 who instantly abandoned her concerns, threw a 
 light shawl across her shoulders, and, concealing 
 her raven hair under a gypsy, she took his arm, 
 and submitted herself, without a question, to his 
 guidance. They crossed the bridge, and had 
 turned from the highway, along the margin of 
 the lake, before a word was exchanged. Eliza- 
 beth well knew, by the direction, the object of 
 the walk, and respected the feelings of her com- 
 panion too much to indulge in untimely conversa- 
 tion. But when they gained the open fields, and 
 her eye roamed over the placid lake, covered with 
 wild-fowl already journeying from the great north- 
 ern waters to seek a warmer sun, but lingering 
 tq play in the limpid sheet of the Otsego, and 
 to the sides of the mountain, which were gay with 
 the thousand dyes of autumn, as if to grace their 
 bridal, the swelling heart of the young wife burst 
 out in speech. 
 
 “ This is not a time for silence, Oliver ! ” she 
 said, clinging more fondly to his arm ; “ every 
 thing in Nature seems to speak the praises of the 
 Creator ; why should we, who have so much to be 
 grateful for, be silent ? ” 
 
 “Speak on ! ” said her husband, smiling ; “ I 
 love the sounds of your voice. You must antici- 
 pate our errand hither : I have told you my plans : 
 how do you like them ? ” 
 
 “I must first see them,” returned his wife. 
 “ But I have had my plans too ; it is time I should 
 begin to divulge them.” 
 
 “ You ! It is something for the comfort of 
 my old friend Natty, I know.” 
 
 “ Certainly of Natty ; but we have other friends 
 besides the Leather-stocking to serve. Do you 
 forget Louisa, and her father ? ” 
 
 “ No, surely ; have I not given one of the best 
 farms in the county to the good divine ? As for 
 Louisa, I should wish you to keep her always 
 near us.” 
 
 “You do ! ” said Elizabeth, slightly compress- 
 ing ner lips ; “ but poor Louisa may have other 
 views for herself; she may wish to follow my ex- 
 ample, and marry.” 
 
 “ I don’t think it,” said Effingham, musing a 
 moment ; “ I really don’t know any one here- 
 abouts gocd enough for her.” 
 
 “ Perhaps not here ; but there are other places 
 besides Templeton, and other churches besides 
 ‘New St. Paul’s.’ ” 
 
 “ Churches, Elizabeth ! you would not wish to 
 lose Mr. Grant, surely ! Though simple, he is an 
 excellent man. I shall never find another who 
 has half the veneration for my orthodoxy. You 
 
 196 
 
 would humble me from a saint to a very common 
 sinner.” 
 
 “It must be done, sir,” returned the lady, 
 with a half-concealed smile, “ though it degrades 
 you from an angel to a man.” 
 
 “ But you forget the farm.” 
 
 “ He can lease it, as others do. Besides 
 would you have a clergyman toil in the fields? ” 
 
 “Where can he go? You forget Louisa.” 
 
 “ No, I do not forget Louisa,” said Elizabeth, 
 again compressing her beautiful lips. “You 
 know, Effingham, that my father has told you 
 that I ruled him, and that I should rule you. 
 I am now about to exert my power.” 
 
 “ Any thing, any thing, dear Elizabeth, but not 
 at the expense of us all ; not at the expense of 
 your friend.” 
 
 “How do you know, sir, that it will be so 
 much at the expense of my friend?” said the 
 lady, fixing her eyes with a searching look on his 
 countenance, where they met only the unsuspect- 
 ing expression of manly regret. 
 
 “ How do I know it ? why, it is natural that 
 she should regret us.” 
 
 “ It is our duty to struggle with our natural 
 feelings,” returned the lady ; “ and there is but 
 little cause to fear that such a spirit as Louisa’s 
 will not effect it.” 
 
 “ But what is your plan ? ” 
 
 “ Listen, and you shall know. My father has 
 procured a call for Mr. Grant, to one of the towns 
 on the Hudson, where he can live more at his ease 
 than in journeying through these woods ; where 
 he can spend the evening of his life in comfort 
 and quiet ; and where his daughter may meet with 
 such society, and form such a connection, as 
 may be proper for one of her years and char- 
 acter.” 
 
 “ Bess ! you amaze me ! I did not think jou 
 had been such a manager ! ” 
 
 “ Oh ! I manage more deeply than you imagine, 
 sir,” said the wife, archly smiling again ; “ but it 
 is my will, and it is your duty to submit — for a 
 time at least.” 
 
 Effingham laughed ; but, as they approached 
 the end of their walk, the subject was changed by 
 common consent. 
 
 The place at which they arrived was the lit- 
 tle spot of level ground where the cabin of the 
 Leather-stocking had so long stood. Elizabeth 
 found it entirely cleared of rubbish, and beau- 
 tifully laid down in turf, by the removal of 
 sods, which, in common with the surrounding 
 country, had grown gay, under the influence of 
 profuse showers, as if a second spring had passed 
 over the land. This little place was surrounded 
 
196 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 by a circle of mason-work, and they entered by a 
 small gate, near which, to the surprise of both, 
 the rifle of Natty was leaning against the wall. 
 Hector and the slut reposed on the grass by its 
 side, as if conscious that, however altered, they 
 were lying on the ground, and were surrounded by 
 objects with which they were familiar. The hunt- 
 er himself was stretched on the earth, before a 
 head-stone of white marble, pushing aside with 
 his fingers the long grass that had already sprung 
 up from the luxuriant soil around its base, appar- 
 ently to lay bare the inscription. By the side of 
 this stone, which was a simple slab at the head of 
 a grave, stood a rich monument, decorated with 
 an urn, and ornamented with the chisel. 
 
 Oliver and Elizabeth approached the graves 
 with a light tread, unheard by the old hunter, 
 whose sunburnt face was working, and whose eyes 
 twinkled as if something impeded their vision. 
 After some little time, Natty raised himself slowly 
 from the ground, and said aloud : 
 
 “ Well, well — I’m bold to say it’s all right ! 
 There’s something that I suppose is reading ; but 
 I can’t make any thing of it ; though the pipe and 
 the tomahawk, and the moccasins, be pretty well 
 — pretty well, for a man that, I dares to say, 
 never seed ’ither of the things. Ah’s me ! there 
 they lie, side by side, happy enough ! Who will 
 there be to put me in the ’arth when my time 
 :omes ? ” 
 
 “ When that unfortunate hour arrives, Natty, 
 friends shall not be wanting to perform the last 
 offices for you,” said Oliver, a little touched at the 
 hunter’s soliloquy. 
 
 The old man turned, without manifesting sur- 
 prise, for he had got the Indian habits in this 
 particular, and, running his hand under the bot- 
 tom of his nose, seemed to wipe away his sorrow 
 with the action. 
 
 “You’ve come out to see the graves, children, 
 have ye ? ” he said ; “ well, well, they’re whole- 
 some sights to young as well as old.” 
 
 “ I hope they are fitted to your liking,” said 
 Effingham ; “ no one has a better right than your- 
 self to be consulted in the matter.” 
 
 “ Why, seeing that I an’t used to fine graves,” 
 returned the old man, “it is but little matter con- 
 sarning my taste. Ye laid the major’s head to the 
 west, and Mohegan’s to the east, did ye, lad ? ” 
 
 “ At your request it was done.” 
 
 “It’s so best,” said the hunter ; “they thought 
 they had to journey different ways, children ; 
 though there is One greater than all, who’ll bring 
 the just together, at his own time, and who’ll 
 whiten the skin of a black-moor, and place him on 
 a footing with princes.” 
 
 “ There is but little reason to doubt that,” said 
 Elizabeth, whose decided tones were changed to 
 a soft, melancholy voice; “I trust we shall all 
 meet again, and be happy together.” 
 
 “ Shall we, child, shall we ? ” exclaimed the 
 hunter, with unusual fervor , “ there’s comfort in 
 that thought too. But before I go, I should like 
 to know what ’tis you tell these people, that be 
 flocking into the country like pigeons in the spring, 
 of the old Delaware, and of the bravest white 
 man that ever trod the hills.” 
 
 Effingham and Elizabeth were surprised at the 
 manner of the Leather-stocking, which was un- 
 usually impressive and solemn; but, attributing 
 it to the scene, the young man turned to the mon- 
 ument, and read aloud : 
 
 “ ‘ Sacred to the memory of Oliver Effingham, 
 Esquire, formerly a Major in his B. Majesty’s 60th 
 Foot; a soldier of tried valor; a subject of chiv- 
 alrous loyalty ; and a man of honesty. To these 
 virtues he added the graces of a Christian. The 
 morning of his life was spent in honor, wealth, and 
 power ; but its evening was obscured by poverty, 
 neglect, and disease, which were alleviated only 
 by the tender care of his old, faithful, and upright 
 friend and attendant, Nathaniel Bumppo. His 
 descendants rear this stone to the virtues of the 
 master, and to the enduring gratitude of the ser- 
 vant.’ ” 
 
 The Leather-stocking stared at the sound of 
 his own name, and a smile of joy illumined his 
 wrinkled features, as he said : 
 
 “ And did ye say it, lad ? have you then got 
 the old man’s name cut in the stone, by the side 
 of his master’s ? God bless ye , children ! ’twas a 
 kind thought, and kindness goes to the heart as 
 life shortens.” 
 
 Elizabeth turned her back to the speakers. 
 Effingham made a fruitless effort before he suc- 
 ceeded in saying : 
 
 “ It is there cut in plain marble ; but it should 
 have been written in letters of gold ! ” 
 
 “ Show me the name, boy,” said Natty, with 
 simple eagerness; “let me see my own name 
 placed in such honor. ’Tis a gin’rous gift to a 
 man who leaves none of his name and family be- 
 hind him, in a country where he has tarried so 
 long.” 
 
 Effingham guided his finger to the spot, and 
 Natty followed the windings of the letters to tho 
 end with deep interest, when he raised himself 
 from the tomb, and said : 
 
 “I suppose it’s all right; and it’s kindly 
 thought, and kindly done! But what have ye 
 put over the red-skin 
 
 “You shall hear ; 
 
AMONG THE GRAVES. 
 
 197 
 
 “ ‘ This stone is raised to the memory of an 
 Indian Chief, of the Delaware tribe, who was 
 known by the several names of John Mohegan ; 
 Mohican — ’ ” 
 
 “ Mo-hee-can, lad, they call theirselves ! ’he- 
 can.” 
 
 Mohican ; and Chingagook— ’ ” 
 
 “ ’Gach, boy ; — ’gach-gook ; Chingachgook, 
 which, intarpreted, means Big-sarpent. The name 
 should be set down right, for an Indian’s name 
 has always some meaning in it” 
 
 “ I will see it altered. He wa3 the last of his 
 people who continued to inhabit this country ; and 
 it may be said of him that his faults were those 
 of an Indian, and his virtues those of a man.” 
 
 “You never said truer word, Mr. Oliver; ah’s 
 me 1 if you had know’d him as I did, in his prime, 
 in that very battle where the old gentleman, who 
 sleeps by his side, saved his life, when them 
 thieyes, the Iroquois, had him at the stake, you’d 
 have said all that, and more too. I cut the 
 thongs, with this very hand, and gave him my 
 own tomahawk and knife, seeing that the rifle was 
 always my fav’rite weapon. He did lay about 
 him like a man ! I met him as I was coming home 
 from the trail, with eleven Mingo scalps on his 
 pole. — You needn’t shudder, Madam Effingham, 
 for they was all from shaved heads and warriors. 
 When I look about me, at these hills, where I 
 used to could count sometimes twenty smokes, 
 curling over the tree-tops, from the Delaware 
 camps, it raises mournful thoughts, to think that 
 not a red-skin is left of them all ; unless it be a 
 drunken vagabond from the Oneidas, or them 
 Yankee Indians, who, they say, be moving up 
 from the sea-shore ; and who belong to none of 
 God’s creaters, to my seeming, being, as it were, 
 neither fish nor flesh — neither white man nor sav- 
 age. Well, well! the time has come at last, and 
 I must go — ” 
 
 “ Go ! ” echoed Edwards, “ whither do you 
 go ! ” 
 
 The Leather-stocking, who had imbibed, un- 
 consciously, many of the Indian qualities, though 
 he always thought of himself as of a civilized be- 
 ing, compared with even the Delawares, averted 
 his face to conceal the workings of his muscles, 
 as he stooped to lift a large pack from behind 
 the tomb, which he placed deliberately on his 
 shoulders. 
 
 “ Go ! ” exclaimed Elizabeth, approaching him 
 with a hurried step ; “ you should not venture so 
 far in the woods alone, at your time of life, Nat- 
 ty ; indeed, it is imprudent.— He is bent, Effing- 
 ham, on some distant hunting.” 
 
 ** What Mrs. Effingham tells you is true, Leath- 
 
 er-stocking,” said Edwards; “there can be no 
 necessity for your submitting to such hardships 
 now. So throw aside your pack, and confine 
 your hunt to the mountains near us, if you will 
 go.” 
 
 “ Hardship l ’tis a pleasure, children, and the 
 greatest that is left me on this side the grave.” 
 
 “ No, no ; you shall not go to such a dis- 
 tance,” cried Elizabeth, laying her white hand on 
 his deerskin pack — “ I am right ! — I feel his camp- 
 kettle, and a canister of powder ! He must not 
 be suffered to wander so far from us, Oliver ; re- 
 member how suddenly Mohegan dropped away.” 
 
 “ I know’d the parting would come hard, 
 children — I kuow’d it tpould ! ” said Natty, 
 “and so I got aside to look at the graves by my- 
 self, and thought if I left ye the keepsake which 
 the major gave me, when we first parted in the 
 woods, ye wouldn’t take it unkind, but would 
 know that, let the old man’s body go where it 
 might, his feelings stayed behind him.” 
 
 “ This means something more than common, ” 
 exclaimed the youth. “ Where is it, Natty, that 
 you purpose going ? ” 
 
 The hunter drew nigh him with a confident, 
 reasoning air, as if what he had to say would si- 
 lence all objections, and replied : 
 
 “ Why, lad, they tell me, that on the Big-lakes, 
 there’s the best of hunting, and a great range, with- 
 out a white man on it, unless it may be one like my- 
 self. I’m weary of living in clearings, and where 
 the hammer is sounding in my ears from sunrise 
 to sundown. And though I’m much bound to 
 ye both, children — I wouldn’t say it if it was 
 not true — I crave to go into the woods ag’in — 
 I do.” 
 
 “ Woods ! echoed Elizabeth, trembling with 
 her feelings ; “ do you not call these endless for- 
 ests woods ? ” 
 
 “ Ah ! child, these be nothing to a man that’s 
 used to the wilderness. I have took but little 
 comfort sin’ your father come on with his settlers ; 
 but I wouldn’t go far, while the life was in the,, 
 body that lies under the sod there. But now he’s 
 gone, and Chingachgook is gone ; and you be 
 both young and happy. Yes ! the big house has 
 rung with merriment this month past ! And now. 
 I thought, was the time to try to get a little com- 
 fort in the close of my days. Woods ! indeed ! 
 I doesn’t call these woods, Madam Effingham, 
 where I lose myself every day of my life in the 
 clearings.” 
 
 “ If there be any thing wanting to your com- 
 fort, name it, Leather-stocking ; if it be attainable 
 it is yours.” 
 
 “ You mean all for the best, lad : I know it ; and 
 
198 
 
 THE PIONEERS. 
 
 so does madam, too ; but your ways isn’t my ways. 
 ’Tis like the dead there, who thought, when the 
 breath was in them, that one went east, and one 
 went west, to find their heavens ; but they’ll meet 
 at last; and so shall we, children. Yes, ind as 
 you’ve begun, and we shall meet in the land of 
 the just at last.” 
 
 “ This is so new ! so unexpected 1 ” said Eliza- 
 beth, in almost breathless excitement ; “ I had 
 thought you meant to live with us and die with 
 us, Natty.” 
 
 “ Words are of no avail,” exclaimed her hus- 
 band ; “ the habits of forty years are not to be 
 dispossessed by the ties of a day. — I know you 
 too well to urge you further, Natty; unless yoti 
 will let me build you a hut on one of the distant 
 hills, where we can sometimes see you, and know 
 that you are comfortable.” 
 
 “ Don’t fear for the Leather-stocking, children ; 
 God will see that his days be provided for, and 
 his ind happy. I know you mean all for the best, 
 but our ways doesn’t agree. I love the woods, 
 and ye relish the face of man ; I eat when hungry, 
 and drink when a-dry ; and ye keep stated hours 
 and rules : nay, nay, you even over-feed the dogs, 
 lad, from pure kindness ; and hounds should be 
 gaunty to run well. The meanest of God’s crea- 
 tures be made for some use, and I’m formed for 
 the wilderness. If ye love me, let me go where 
 my soul craves to be ag’in ! ” 
 
 The appeal was decisive; and not another 
 word of entreaty for him to remain was then 
 uttered ; but Elizabeth bent her head to her bosom 
 and wept, while her husband dashed away the 
 tears from his eyes ; and, with hands that almost 
 refused to perform their office, he produced his 
 pocket-book, and extended a parcel of bank-notes 
 to the hunter. 
 
 “ Take these,” he said, “ at least take these ; 
 secure them about your person, and in the hour 
 of need they will do you good service.” 
 
 The old man took the notes, and examined 
 them with a curious eye. 
 
 “ This, then, is some of the new-fashioned mon- 
 ey that they’ve been making at Albany, out of pa- 
 per ! It can’t be worth much to they that hasn’t 
 laming ! No, no, lad— take back the stuff; it will 
 do me no sarvice. I took kear to get all the 
 Frenchman’s powder afore he broke up, and 
 they say lead grows where I’m going. It isn’t even 
 fit for wads, seeing that I use none but leather ! — 
 Madam Effingham, let an old man kiss your hand, 
 and wish God’s choicest blessings on you and 
 your’n.” 
 
 “ Once more let me beseech you, stay 1 ” cried 
 
 Elizabeth. “ Do not, Leather-stocking, leave me 
 to grieve for the man who has twice rescued me 
 from death, and who has served those I love so 
 faithfully. For my sake, if not for your own, 
 stay. I shall see you in those frightful dreams that 
 still haunt my nights, dying in poverty and age, 
 by the side of those terrific beasts you slew. 
 There will be no evil, that sickness, want, and 
 solitude can inflict, that my fancy will not conjure 
 as your fate. Stay with us, old man, if not for 
 your own sake, at least for ours.” 
 
 “Such thoughts and bitter dreams, Madam 
 Effingham,” returned the hunter, solemnly, “ will 
 never haunt an innocent parson long. They’ll 
 pass away with God’s pleasure. And if the cat-a- 
 mounts be yet brought to your eyes in sleep, ’tis 
 not for my sake, but to show you the power of Him 
 that led me there to save you. Trust in Goa> 
 madam, and your honorable husband, and the 
 thoughts for an old man like me can never be long 
 nor bitter. I pray that the Lord will keep you in 
 mind — the Lord that lives in clearings as well 
 as in the wilderness — and bless you, and all that 
 belong to you, from this time till the great day 
 when the whites shall meet the red-skins in judg- 
 ment, and justice shall be the law, and not 
 power.” 
 
 Elizabeth raised her head, and offered her 
 colorless cheek to his salute, when he lifted his cap 
 and touched it respectfully. His hand was grasped 
 with convulsive fervor by the youth, who con- 
 tinued silent. The hunter prepared himself for 
 his journey, drawing his belt tighter, and wasting 
 his moments in the little reluctant movements of 
 a sorrowful departure. Once or twice he essayed 
 to speak, but a rising in his throat prevented it. 
 At length he shouldered his rifle, and cried with 
 a clear huntsman’s call that echoed through the 
 woods : 
 
 “ He-e-e-re, he-e-e-re, pups — away, dogs, away ! 
 — ye’ll be foot-sore afore ye see the ind of the 
 journey ! ” 
 
 The hounds leaped from the earth at this cry, 
 and scenting around the graves and the silent pair, 
 as if conscious of their own destination, they fol- 
 lowed humbly at the heels of their master. A 
 short pause succeeded, during which even the 
 youth concealed his face on his grandfather’s 
 tomb. When the pride of manhood, however, 
 had suppressed the feelings of nature, he turned 
 to renew his entreaties, but saw that the cemetery 
 was occupied only by himself and his wife. 
 
 “ He is gone ! ” cried Effingham. 
 
 Elizabeth raised her face, and saw the old 
 hunter standing, looking back for a moment, on 
 
NATTY’S DEPARTURE. 
 
 199 
 
 the verge of the wood. As he caught their 
 glances, he drew his hard hand hastily across his 
 eyes again, waved it on high for an adieu, and, 
 uttering a forced cry to his dogs, who were 
 crouching at his feet, he entered the forest. 
 
 This was the last that they ever saw of the 
 
 Leather-stocking, whose rapid movements pre- 
 ceded the pursuit which Judge Temple both or- 
 dered and conducted. He had gone far toward 
 the setting sun — the foremost in that band of 
 pioneers who are opening the way for the march 
 of the nation across the continent 
 
 TUB END 
 
VOX XTJ'DiA'Md arm/lK 
 
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THE 
 
 PRAIRIE 
 
 “Making himself sure of the seat of life by gently removing the folds of the intervening cloth, he raised 
 
 his keen weapon.” 
 
 p. 2 6. 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES FENIMORE COOPER, 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, PUBLISHERS, 
 
“ A series of masterly and rapid evolutions with the horses now commenced. 
 
THE PRAIRIE 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 BY 
 
 J. FENIMORE COOPER. 
 
 ;lY.L'\\km A KOTET.T'I'IA ,<T 
 
 riT >*.,»* f>f VT *• 1 7 50ftjfir ( r \ -**i f ’ T ■ ’ * ^ . * 
 
 “ Mark his condition, and th’ event ; then tell me, 
 If this might he a brother.” — Tempest. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED FROM DRAWINGS BT F. 0. C. DARLEY 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 1, 3, AND 5 BOND STREET. 
 
 1 8 8 5 . 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1872, by 
 D. APPLETON & COMPANY, 
 
 In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at 'Washington. 
 
 •• *\ - > A) . ■■■ ‘ ,V. A <> A i K3,' 
 
 /ittOY 77 ?, 
 

 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 The geological formation of that portion of the American Union which lies between 
 the Alleghanies and the Rocky Mountains, has given rise to many ingenious theories. 
 Virtually, the whole of this immense region is a plain. For a distance extending nearly 
 fifteen hundred miles east and west, and six hundred north and south, there is scarcely 
 an elevation worthy to be called a mountain. Even hills are not common, though a 
 good deal of the face of the country has more or less of that “rolling” character which 
 is described in the opening pages of this work. 
 
 There is much reason to believe that the territory which now composes Ohio, Illi- 
 nois, Indiana, Michigan, and a large portion of the country west of the Mississippi, lay 
 formerly under water. The soil of all the former States has the appearance of an allu- 
 vial deposit ; and isolated rocks have been found, of a nature and in situations which 
 render it difficult to refute the opinion that they have been transferred to their present 
 beds by floating ice. This theory assumes that the Great Lakes were the deep pools of 
 one immense body of fresh water, which lay too low to be drained by the irruption that 
 laid bare the land. 
 
 It will be remembered that the French, when masters of the Canadas and Louisiana, 
 claimed the whole of the territory in question. Their hunters and advanced troops held 
 the first communications with the savage occupants, and the earliest written accounts 
 we possess of these vast regions are from the pens of their missionaries. Many French 
 words have, consequently, become of local use in this quarter of America, and not a few 
 names given in that language have been perpetuated. When the adventurers, who first 
 penetrated these wilds, met, in the centre of the forests, immense plains covered with 
 rich verdure or rank grasses, they naturally gave them the appellation of meadows. As 
 the English succeeded the French, and found a peculiarity of Nature, differing from all 
 they had yet seen on the continent, already distinguished by a word that did not express 
 any thing in their own language, they left these natural meadows in possession of their 
 title of convention. In this manner has the word “ prairie ” been adopted into the 
 English tongue. 
 
 The American prairies are of two kinds. Those which lie east of the Mississippi are 
 comparatively small, are exceedingly fertile, and are always surrounded by forests. They 
 are susceptible of high cultivation, and are fast becoming settled. They abound in 
 Ohio, Michigan, Illinois, and Indiana. They labor under the disadvantages of a scarcity 
 of wood and water — evils of a serious character, until art has had time to supply the 
 
i 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 deficiencies of Nature. As coal is said to abound in all that region, and wells are gen- 
 erally successful, the enterprise of the immigrants is gradually prevailing against these 
 difficulties. 
 
 The second description of these natural meadows lies west of the Mississippi, at a 
 distance of a few hundred miles from that river, and is called the Great Prairies. They 
 resemble the steppes of Tartary more than any other known portion of the world ; be- 
 ing, in fact, a vast country, incapable of sustaining a dense population, in the absence 
 of the two great necessaries already named. Rivers abound, it is true ; but this region 
 is nearly destitute of brooks and the smaller water-courses, which tend so much to com- 
 
 j ' 
 
 fort and fertility. 
 
 The origin and date of the Great American Prairies form one of Nature’s most majes- 
 tic mysteries. The general character of tho United States, of the Canadas, and of 
 Mexico, is that of luxuriant fertility. It would be difficult to find another portion of the 
 world, of the same extent, which has so little useless land as the inhabited parts of the 
 American Union. Most of the mountains are arable ; and even the prairies, in this sec- 
 tion of the republic, are of deep alluvion. The same is true between the Rocky Moun- 
 tains and the Pacific. Retween the two lies the broad belt of comparative desert, which 
 is the^cene of this tale, appearing to interpose a barrier to the progress of the American 
 people westward. Since the original publication of this book, however, the boundaries 
 of the republic have been carried to tho Pacific, and “the settler,” preceded by the 
 “ trapper,” has already established himself on the shores of that vast sea. 
 
 The Great Prairies appear to be the final gathering-place of the red men. The rem 
 nants of the Mohicans and the Delawares, of the Creeks, Choctaws, and Cherokees, are 
 destined to fulfil their time on these vast: plains. The entire number of, the Indians 
 within the) Union is differently computed at between one and five hundred thousand 
 souls. Most of them inhabit the country west of the Mississippi. At the period of the 
 tale, they dwelt in open hostility, national feuds passing from generation to generation. 
 The power of the republic has done much to restore peace to these wild soenes, and it la 
 now possible to travel in security where civilized man did not dare to pass unprotected 
 five-and-twenty years ago. 
 
 Recent events have brought the Grand Prairies into familiar notice, and we now read 
 of journeys across. them as, half a century since, we perused the narratives of the emi- 
 grants to Ohio and Louisiana. It is a singular commentary on the times that places for 
 railroads across these vast plains are in active discussion, and that men have ceased to 
 regard the project as chimerical. 
 
 This book closes the career of Leather-stocking. Pressed upon by time, he had 
 ceased to be the hunter and the warrior, and has become a trapper of the Great "West. 
 The sound of the axe has driven him from his beloved forests to seek a refuge, by a 
 species of desperate resignation, on the denuded plains that stretch to the Rocky Moun- 
 tains. Here he passes the few closing years of his life, dying as he had lived, a philoso- 
 pher of the wilderness, with few of the failings, none of the vices, and all the nature 
 and truth of his position. 
 
THE PRAIRIE 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 ** I pray thee, shepherd, if that love, or gold, 
 
 Can in this desert place buy entertainment, 
 
 Bring us where we may rest ourselves and feed.” 
 
 As YOU LIKE IT. 
 
 Much was said and written, at the time, con- 
 cerning the policy of adding the vast regions of 
 Louisiana to the already immense and but half- 
 tenanted territories of the United States. As the 
 warmth of controversy, however, subsided, and 
 party considerations gave place to more liberal 
 views, the wisdom of the measure began to be 
 'generally conceded. It soon became apparent to 
 the meanest capacity that, while Nature had placed 
 a barrier of desert to the extension of our popu- 
 lation in the West, the measure had made us the 
 masters of a belt of fertile country, which, in the 
 revolutions of the day, might have become the 
 property of a rival nation. It gave us the sole 
 command of the great thoroughfare of the interior, 
 and placed the countless tribes of savages, who 
 lay along our borders, entirely within our control ; 
 it reconciled conflicting rights, and quieted na- 
 tional distrusts ; it opened a thousand avenues to 
 the inland trade, and to the waters of the Pacific ; 
 and, if ever time or necessity shall require a peace- 
 ful division of this vast empire, it assures us of a 
 neighbor that will possess our language, our reli- 
 gion, our institutions, and, it is also to be hoped, 
 our sense of political justice. 
 
 Although the purchase was made in 1803, the 
 spring of the succeeding year was permitted to 
 open before the official prudence of the Spaniard, 
 who held the province for his European master, ad- 
 mitted the authority or even the entrance of its new 
 proprietors. But the forms of the transfer were 
 no sooner completed, and the new government ac- 
 knowledged, than swarms of that restless people 
 which is ever found hovering on the skirts of 
 American society, plunged into the thickets that 
 
 fringed the right bank of the Mississippi, with the 
 same careless hardihood that had already sus- 
 tained so many of them in their toilsome progress 
 from the Atlantic States to the eastern shores of 
 the “ Father of Rivers.” * 
 
 Time was necessary to blend the numerous 
 and affluent colonists of the lower province with 
 their new compatriots t but the thinner and more 
 humble population above, was almost immediately 
 swallowed in the vortex which attended the tide 
 of instant emigration. The inroad from the East 
 was a new and sudden outbreaking of a people 
 who had endured a momentary restraint, after 
 having been rendered nearly resistless by suc- 
 cess. The toils and hazards of former under- 
 takings were forgotten, as these endless and un- 
 explored regions, with all their fancied as well as 
 real advantages were laid open to their enterprise. 
 The consequences were such as might easily have 
 been anticipated from so tempting an offering, 
 placed, as it was, before the eyes of a race long 
 trained in adventure, and nurtured in difficulties. 
 
 Thousands of the elders, of what were then 
 called the new States,! broke up from the enjoy- 
 ment of their hard-earned indulgences, and were 
 to be seen leading long files of descendants, bom 
 and reared in the forests of Ohio and Kentucky, 
 deeper into the land, in quest of that which 
 might be termed, without the aid of poetry, their 
 natural and more congenial atmosphere. The 
 distinguished and resolute forester who first pen- 
 etrated the wilds of the latter State, was of the 
 
 * The Mississippi is thus termed in several of the Indian 
 languages. The reader will gain a more just idea of the 
 importance of this stream, If he recalls to mind the fact that 
 the Missouri and the Mississippi are properly the same 
 river. Their united lengths cannot be greatly short of four 
 thousand miles. 
 
 t All the States admitted to the American Union, since 
 the Eevolution, are called new States, with the exception of 
 Vermont ; that had claims before the war, which were not 
 however, admitted until a later day. 
 
6 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 number. This adventurous and venerable pa- 
 triarch was now seen making his last remove; 
 placing the endless river between him and the 
 multitude his own success had drawn around him, 
 and seeking for the renewal of enjoyments which 
 were rendered worthless in his eyes when tram- 
 melled by the forms of human institutions.* 
 
 In the pursuit of adventures such as these, 
 men are ordinarily governed by their habits or 
 deluded by their wishes. A few, led by the phan- 
 toms of hope and ambitious of sudden affluence, 
 sought the mines of the virgin territory ; but by 
 far the greater portion of the emigrants were sat- 
 isfied to establish themselves along the margins of 
 the larger water-courses, content with the rich 
 returns that the generous, alluvial bottoms of the 
 rivers never fail to bestow on the most desulto- 
 ry industry. In this manner were communities 
 formed with magical rapidity ; and most of those 
 who witnessed the purchase of the empty empire, 
 have lived to see already a populous and sover- 
 eign State parcelled from its inhabitants, and re- 
 ceived into the bosom of the national Union on 
 terms of political equality. 
 
 The incidents and scenes which are connected 
 with this legend occurred in the earliest periods 
 of the enterprises which have led to so great and 
 so speedy a result. 
 
 The harvest of the first year of our possession 
 had long been passed, and the fading foliage of a 
 few scattered trees was already beginning to ex- 
 hibit the hues and tints of autumn, when a train 
 of wagons issued from the bed of a dry rivulet, to 
 pursue its course across the undulating surface 
 of what, in the language of the country of which 
 we write, is called a “ rolling prairie.” The ve- 
 hicles, loaded with household goods and imple- 
 ments of husbandry, the few straggling sheep 
 and cattle that were herded in the rear, and the 
 rugged appearance and careless mien of the 
 sturdy men who loitered at the sides of the 
 lingering teams, united to announce a band of 
 emigrants seeking for the El Dorado of the West. 
 Contrary to the usual practice of the men of 
 their caste, this party had left the fertile bot- 
 toms of the low country, and had found its 
 way, by means only known to such adventurers, 
 across glen and torrent, over deep morasses and 
 arid wastes, to a point far beyond the usual limits 
 of civilized habitations. In their front were 
 stretched those broad plains which extend, with 
 
 * Colonel Boone, tlie patriarch of Kentucky. This ven- 
 erable and hardy pioneer of civilization emigrated to an 
 estate three hundred miles west of the Mississippi, in his 
 ninety-second year, because he found a population often to 
 the square mile inconveniently crowded ! 
 
 so little diversity of character, to the bases of the 
 Rocky Mountains; and, many long and dreary 
 miles in their rear, foamed the swift and turbid 
 waters of La Platte. 
 
 The appearence of such a train in that bleak 
 and solitary place was rendered the more remark- 
 able by the fact that the surrounding country of- 
 fered so little that was tempting to the cupidity 
 of speculation, and, if possible, still less that was 
 flattering to the hopes of an ordinary settler of 
 new lands. 
 
 The meagre herbage of the prairie promised 
 nothing in favor of a bard and unyielding soil, 
 over which the wheels of the vehicles rattled as 
 lightly as if they travelled on a beaten road; 
 neither wagons nor beasts making any deeper im- 
 pression than to mark that bruised and withered 
 grass which the cattle plucked from time to time, 
 and as often rejected as food too sour for even 
 hunger to render palatable. 
 
 Whatever might be the final destination of 
 these adventurers, or the secret causes of their 
 apparent security in so remote and unprotected a 
 situation, there was no visible sign of uneasiness, 
 uncertainty, or alarm, among them. Including 
 both sexes, and every age, the number of the 
 party exceeded twenty. 
 
 At some little distance in front of the whole, 
 marched the individual who, by his position and 
 air, appeared to be the leader of the band. He was 
 a tall, sunburnt man, past the middle age, of a dull 
 countenance and listless manner. His frame ap- 
 peared loose and flexible ; but it was vast, and in 
 reality of prodigious power. It was only at 
 moments, however, as some slight impediment 
 opposed itself to his loitering progress, that his 
 person, which in its ordinary gait seemed so 
 lounging and nerveless, displayed any of those 
 energies which lay latent in his system, like the 
 slumbering and unwieldy, but terrible, strength 
 of the elephant. The inferior lineameqjts of his 
 countenance were coarse, extended, and vacant ; 
 while the superior, or those nobler parts which are 
 thought to affect the intellectual being, were low, 
 receding, and mean. 
 
 The dress of this individual was a mixture of 
 the coarsest vestments of a husbandman, with the 
 leathern garments that fashion as well as use had 
 in some degree rendered necessary to one engaged 
 in his present pursuits. There was, however, a 
 singular and wild display of prodigal ana ill-judged 
 ornaments blended with his motley attire. In 
 place of the usual deerskin belt, he wore around 
 his body a tarnished silken sash of the most gaudy 
 colors ; the buckhom haft of his knife was pro- 
 fusely decorated with plates of silver ; the marten’s 
 
A COMPANY OF EMIGRANTS. 
 
 7 
 
 fur of his cap was of a fineness and shadowing 
 that a quetjn might covet ; the buttons of his 
 rude and soiled blanket-coat were of the glitter- 
 ing coinage of Mexico ; the stpck of his rifle was 
 of beautiful mahogany, riveted and banded with 
 the same precious metal ; and the trinkets of no 
 less than three worthless watches dangled from 
 different parts of his person. In addition to the 
 pack and the rifle which were slung at his back, 
 together with the well-filled and carefully-guarded 
 pouch and horn, he had carelessly cast a keen 
 and bright wood-axe across his shoulder, sustain- 
 ing the weight of the whole with as much appar- 
 ent ease as if he moved unfettered in limb, and free 
 from encumbrance. 
 
 A short distance in the rear of this man came 
 a group of youths very similarly attired, and bear- 
 ing sufficient resemblance to each other, and to 
 their leader, to distinguish them as the children 
 of one family. Though the youngest of their num- 
 ber could not much have passed the period that, 
 in the nicer judgment of the law, is called the age 
 of discretion, he had proved himself so far worthy 
 of his progenitors as to have reared already his 
 aspiring person to the standard height of his race. 
 There were one or two others, of different mould, 
 whose descriptions must, however, be referred to 
 the regular course of the narrative. 
 
 Of the females, there were but two who had 
 arrived at womanhood; though several white- 
 headed, olive-skinned faces were peering out of 
 the foremost wagon of the train, with eyes of live- 
 ly curiosity and characteristic animation. The 
 elder of the two adults was the sallow and wrinkled 
 mother of most of the party ; and the younger was 
 a sprightly, active girl of eighteen, who in figure, 
 dress, and mien, seemed to belong to a station in 
 society several gradations above that of any one 
 of her visible associates. The second vehicle was 
 covered with a top of cloth so tightly drawn as 
 to conceal its contents with the nicest care. The 
 remaining wagons were loaded with such rude 
 furniture and other personal effects as might be 
 supposed to belong to one ready at any moment 
 to change his abode, without reference to season 
 or distance. 
 
 Perhaps there was little in this train, or in the 
 appearance of its proprietors, that is not daily to 
 be encountered on the highways of this changeable 
 and moving country. Rut the solitary and pe- 
 culiar scenery, in which it was so unexpectedly 
 exhibited, gave to the party a marked character 
 of wildness and adventure. 
 
 In the little valleys which, in the regular for- 
 mation of the land, occurred at every mile of their 
 progress, the view was bounded on two of the 
 
 sides by the gradual and low elevations which 
 give name to the description of prairie we have 
 mentioned ; while on the others the meagre pros- 
 pect ran off in long, narrow, barren perspectives, 
 but slightly relieved by a pitiful show of coarse 
 though somewhat luxuriant vegetation. From 
 the summits of the swells, the eye became fatigued 
 with the sameness and chilling dreariness of the 
 landscape. The earth was not unlike the ocean, 
 when its restless waters are Leaving heavily, after 
 the agitation and fury of the tempest have begun 
 to lessen. There was the same waving and regu- 
 lar surface, the same absence of foreign objects, 
 and the game boundless extent to the view. In- 
 deed, so very striking was the resemblance between 
 the water and the land, that, however much the 
 geologist might sneer at so simple a theory, it 
 would have been difficult for a poet not to have 
 felt that the formation of the one had been pro- 
 duced by the subsiding dominion of the other. 
 Here and there a tall tree rose out of the bottoms, 
 stretching its naked branches abroad, like some 
 solitary vessel ; and, to strengthen the delusion, 
 far in the distance appeared two or three rounded 
 thickets, looming in the misty horizon like islands 
 resting on the waters. It is unnecessary to warn 
 the practised reader that the sameness of the 
 surface, and the low stands of the spectators, ex- 
 aggerated the distances ; but, as swell appeared 
 after swell, and island succeeded island, there was 
 a disheartening assurance that long and seemingly 
 interminable tracts of territory must be passed 
 before the wishes of the humblest agriculturist 
 could be realized. 
 
 Still, the leader of the emigrants steadily pur- 
 sued his way, with no other guide than the oun, 
 turning his back resolutely on the abodes of civil- 
 ization, and plunging at each step more deeply 
 if not irretrievably into the haunts of the barba- 
 rous and savage occupants of the country. As the 
 day drew nigher to a close, however, his mind, 
 which was, perhaps, incapable of maturing any 
 connected system of forethought, beyond that 
 which related to the interests of the present mo- 
 ment, became in some slight degree troubled with 
 the care of providing for the wants of the hours 
 of darkness. 
 
 On reaching the crest of a swell that was a 
 little higher than the usual elevations, he lingered 
 a minute, and cast a half-curious eye on either 
 hand, in quest of those well-known signs which 
 might indicate a place where the three grand 
 requisites of water, fuel, and fodder, were to bo 
 obtained in conjunction. 
 
 It would seem that his search was fruitless ; 
 for, after a few moments of indolent and listless 
 
8 
 
 THE PRAIRIE 
 
 examination, he suffered his huge frame to de- 
 scend the gentle declivity, in the same sluggish 
 manner that an over-fatted beast would have 
 yielded to the downward pressure. 
 
 His example was silently followed by those 
 who succeeded him, though not until the young 
 men had manifested much more of interest, if not 
 of concern, in the brief inquiry which each in 
 his turn made on gaining the same lookout. It 
 was now evident, by the tardy movements both 
 of beasts and men, that the time of necessary 
 rest was not far distant. The matted grass of 
 the lower land presented obstacles which fatigue 
 began to render formidable, and the whip was 
 becoming necessary to urge the lingering teams 
 to their labor. At this moment, when, with the 
 exception of the principal individual, a general 
 lassitude was getting the mastery of the travellers, 
 and every eye was cast, by a sort of common im- 
 pulse, wistfully forward, the whole party was 
 brought to a halt, by a spectacle as sudden as it 
 was unexpected. 
 
 The sun had fallen below the crest of the 
 nearest wave of the prairie, leaving the usual rich 
 and glowing train on its track. In the centre of 
 this flood of fiery light a human form appeared, 
 drawn against the gilded background as distinctly, 
 and seemingly as palpable, as though it would COme 
 within the grasp of any extended hand. The 
 figure was colossal; the attitude musing and mel- 
 ancholy ; and the situation directly in the route 
 of the travellers. But embedded, as it was, in its 
 setting of garish light, it was impossible to dis- 
 tinguish its just proportions or true character. 
 
 The effect of such a spectacle was instantane- 
 ous and powerful. The man in front of the emi- 
 grants came to a stand, and remained gazing at 
 the mysterious object with a dull interest, that 
 soon quickened into superstitious awe. His sons, 
 so soon as the first emotions of surprise had a 
 little abated, drew slowly around him, and as they 
 who governed the teams gradually followed their 
 example, the whole party was soon condensed in 
 one silent and wondering group. Notwithstand- 
 ing the impression of a supernatural agency was 
 very general among the travellers, the ticking of 
 gun-locks was heard, and one or two of the bolder 
 youths cast their rifles forward, in readiness for 
 service. 
 
 “ Send the boys off to the right,” exclaimed 
 the resolute wife and mother, in a sharp, dis- 
 sonant voice ; “ I warrant me Asa or Abher will 
 give some account of the creature ! ” * 
 
 “ It may be well enough to try the rifle,” mut- 
 tered a dull-looking man, whose features, both in 
 outline and expression, bore no small resemblance 
 
 to the first speaker, and who loosened the stock 
 of his piece and brought it dexterously to the 
 front, while delivering this opinion ; “ the Pawnee 
 Loups are said to be hunting by hundreds in the 
 plains ; if so, they’ll never miss a single man from 
 their tribe.” 
 
 “ Stay l ” exclaimed a soft-toned but alarmed 
 female voice, which was easily to be traced to the 
 trembling lips of the younger of the two women ; 
 “ we are not all together ; it may be a friend ! ” 
 
 “ Who is scouting now ? ” demanded the father, 
 scanning, at the same time, the cluster of his stout 
 sons with a displeased and sullen eye. “ Put by 
 the piece, put by the piece,” he continued, di- 
 verting the other’s aim with the finger of a 
 giant, and with the air of one it might be danger- 
 ous to deny. “My job is not yet ended; let us 
 finish the little that remains in peace.” 
 
 The man who had manifested so hostile an in- 
 tention appeared to understand* the other’s allu- 
 sion, and suffered himself to be diverted from hi3 
 object. The sons turned their inquiring looks on 
 the girl who had so eagerly Bpoken, to require an 
 explanation; but, as if content with the respite 
 she had obtained for the stranger, she sank back 
 in her seat, and chose to affect a maidenly si- 
 lence. 
 
 In the mean time the hues of the heavens had 
 often changed. In place of the brightness which 
 had dazzled the eye, a gray and more sober light 
 had succeeded, and, as the setting lost its brillian- 
 cy, the proportions Of the fanciful fonn became 
 less exaggerated, and finally distinct. Ashamed 
 to hesitate, now that the truth was no longer 
 doubtful, the leader of the party resumed his 
 journey, using the precaution, as he ascended the 
 slight acclivity, to release his own rifle from the 
 strap, and to Cast it into a situation more conven- 
 ient for sudden use. 
 
 There was little apparent necessity, nowever, 
 for such watchfulness. From the moment when it 
 had thus unaccountably appeared, as it were, 
 between the heavens and the earth, the stranger’s 
 figure had neither moved nor given the smallest 
 evidence of hostility. Had he harbored any such 
 evil intention, the individual who now came 
 plainly into view seemed but little qualified to 
 execute them. 
 
 A frame that had endured the hardships of 
 more than eighty seasons was not qualified' to 
 awaken apprehension in the breast of one as pow- 
 erful as the emigrant. Notwithstandinghis years, 
 and his look of emaciation, if not of suffering, 
 there was that about this solitary being, however, 
 which said that Time, and not disease, had laid 
 his hand heavily on him. His form had withered, 
 
AN OLD INHABITANT. 
 
 9 
 
 but it was not wasted. The sinews and muscles, 
 which had once denoted great strength, though 
 shrunken, were still visible ; and his whole figure 
 had attained an appearance of induration which, 
 if it were not for the well-known frailty of humani- 
 ty, would have seemed to bid defiance to the fur- 
 ther approaches of decay. His dress was chiefly 
 of skins, worn with the hair to the weather ; a 
 pouch and horn were suspended from his shoul- 
 ders ;■ and he leaned on a rifle of uncommon length, 
 but which, like its owner, exhibited the wear of 
 long and hard service. 
 
 As the party drew nigher to this solitary being, 
 and came within a distance to be heard, a low 
 growl issued frem the grass at his feet, and then 
 a tall, gaunt, toothless hound arose lazily from 
 his lair, and, shaking himself, made some show of 
 resisting the nearer approach of the travellers. 
 
 “ Down, Hector, down,” said his master, in a 
 voice that was a little tremulous and hollow with 
 age. “ What have ye to do, pup, with men who 
 journey on their lawful callings ? ” 
 
 “ Stranger, if you are much acquainted in this 
 country,” said the leader of the emigr ants, “ can 
 you tell a traveller where he may find necessaries 
 for the night? ” 
 
 “ Is the land filled on the 6ther side of the 
 Big River ? demanded the old man, solemnly, 
 and without appearing to hearken to the Other’s 
 question ; “ or why do I see a sight I had never 
 thought to behold again ? ” 
 
 “ Why, there is country left, it is true, for 
 suoh as have money, and ar’ not particular in the 
 choice,” returned the emigrant ; “ but, to my taste, 
 it is getting crowdy. What may a man call the 
 distance from this place to the nighest point on 
 the main river ? ” 
 
 “ A hunted deer could not cool his sides in 
 the Mississippi, without travelling a weary five 
 hundred miles.” 
 
 “ And what may you name the district here- 
 away ? ” 
 
 “ By what name,” returned the old man, point- 
 ing significantly upward, “ would you call the 
 spot where you see yonder cloud ? ” 
 
 The emigrant looked at the other like one who 
 did not comprehend his meaning, and who half 
 suspected he was trifled with ; but he contented 
 himself by saying : 
 
 “ You ar’ but a new inhabitant, like myself, I 
 reckon, stranger, or otherwise you would not be 
 backward in helping a traveller to some advice ; 
 words cost but little, and sometimes lead to 
 friendships.” 
 
 “ Advice is not a gift, but a debt that the old owe 
 to the young. What would you wish to know ? ” 
 
 53 
 
 “ Where I may camp for the night. I’m no 
 great difficulty-maker as to bed and board ; but 
 all old journeyers like myself know the virtue of 
 sweet water, and a good browse for the cattle.” 
 
 “ Come, then, with me, .and you shall be mas- 
 ter of both ; and little more is it that I can offer 
 on this hungry prairie.” 
 
 As the old man was speaking, he raised his 
 heavy rifle to his shoulder with a facility a little 
 remarkable for his years and appearance, and 
 without further words led the way over the ac- 
 clivity to the adjacent bottom. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 “ Up with my tent : here will I lie to-night, 
 
 But where, to-morrow ? — "Well, all’s one for that.” 
 
 Richabd III. 
 
 The travellers soon discovered the usual and 
 unerring evidences that the several articles neces- 
 sary to their situation were not far distant. A 
 clear and gurgling spring burst out of the side of 
 the declivity, and, joining its waters to those of 
 other similar little fountains in its vicinity, their 
 united contributions formed a run, which was 
 easily to be traced for miles along the prairie, by 
 the scattering foliage and verdure which occasion- 
 ally grew within the influence of its moisture. 
 Hither, then, the stranger held his way, eagerly 
 followed by the willing teams, whose instinct gave 
 them a prescience of refreshment and rest. 
 
 On reaching what he deemed a suitable spot, 
 the old man halted, and, with an inquiring look, 
 he seemed to demand if it possessed the needed 
 conveniences. The leader of the emigrants cast 
 his eyes understanding^ about him, and examined 
 the place with the keenness of one competent to 
 judge of so nice a question, though in that dila- 
 tory and heavy manner which rarely permitted 
 him to betray precipitation. 
 
 “ Ay, this may do,” he said, when satisfied 
 with his scrutiny. — “ Boys, you have seen the last 
 of the sun ; be stirring.” 
 
 The young men manifested a characteristic 
 obedience. The order, for such in tone and man- 
 ner it was, in truth, was received with respect ; 
 but the utmost movement was the falling of an axe 
 or two from the shoulder to the ground, while 
 their owners continued to regard the place with 
 listless and incurious eyes. In the mean time, the 
 elder traveller, as if familiar with the nature of the 
 impulses by which his children, were governed, 
 disencumbered himself of his pack and rifle, and, 
 assisted by the man already mentioned as disposed 
 
10 
 
 THE PRAIRIE 
 
 to appeal so promptly to the rifle, he quietly pro- 
 ceeded to release the cattle from the gears. 
 
 At length the eldest of the sons stepped heav- 
 ily forward, and, without any apparent effort, he 
 buried his axe to the eye in the soft body of a 
 cotton-wood tree. He stood a moment regarding 
 ' the effect of the blow, with that sort of contempt 
 with which a giant might be supposed to contem- 
 plate the puny resistance of a dwarf, and then, 
 flourishing the implement above his head, with 
 the grace and dexterity with which a master of 
 the art of offence would wield his nobler though 
 less useful weapon, he quickly severed the trunk 
 of the tree, bringing its tall top crashing to the 
 earth in submission to his prowess. His compan- 
 ions. regarded the operation with indolent curi- 
 osity, until they saw the prostrate trunk stretched 
 on the ground, when, as if a signal for a gerferal 
 attack had been given, they advanced in a body 
 to the work ; and in a space of time, and with a 
 neatness of execution, that would have astonished 
 an ignorant spectator, they stripped a small but 
 suitable spot of its burden of forest, as effectually, 
 and almost as promptly, as if a whirlwind had 
 passed along the place. 
 
 The stranger had been a silent but attentive 
 observer of their progress. As tree after tree 
 came whistling down, he cast his eyes upward at 
 the vacancies they left in the heavens, with a 
 melancholy gaze, and finally turned away, mut- 
 tering to himself with a bitter smile, like one who 
 disdained giving a more audible utterance to his 
 discontent. Pressing through the group of active 
 and busy children who had already lighted a 
 cheerful fire, the attention of the old man became 
 next fixed on the movements of the leader of the 
 emigrants and of his savage-looking assistant. 
 
 These two had already liberated the cattle, 
 which were eagerly browsing the grateful and 
 nutritious extremities of the fallen trees, and were 
 now employed about the wagon, which has been 
 described as having its contents concealed with so 
 much apparent care. Notwithstanding this par- 
 ticular conveyance appeared to be as silent and as 
 tenantless as the rest of the vehicles, the men ap- 
 plied their strength to its wheels and rolled it, 
 apart from the others, to a dry and elevated spot 
 near the edge of the thicket. Here they brought 
 certain poles, which had seemingly been long em- 
 ployed in such a service, and, fastening their 
 larger ends firmly in the ground, the smaller were 
 attached to the hoops that supported the cover- 
 g of the wagon. Large folds of cloth were next 
 drawn out of the vehicle, and, after being spread 
 around the whole, were pegged to the earth in 
 such a manner as to form a tolerably capacious | 
 
 and an exceedingly convenient tent. After sun 
 veying their work with inquisitive and perhaps 
 jealous eyes, arranging a fold here, and driving 
 a peg more firmly there, the men once more ap- 
 plied their strength to the wagon, pulling it by its 
 projecting tongue from the centre of the canopy 
 until it appeared in the open air, deprived of its 
 covering, and destitute of any other freight than 
 a few light articles of furniture. The latter were 
 immediately removed by the traveller into the tent 
 with his own hands, as though to enter it were a 
 privilege to which even his bosom companion was 
 not entitled. 
 
 Curiosity is a passion that is rather quickened 
 than destroyed by seclusion, and the old inhab- 
 itant of the prairies did not view these precau- 
 tionary and mysterious movements without expe- 
 riencing some of its impulses. He approached 
 the tent, and was about to sever two of its folds, 
 with the very obvious intention of examining more 
 closely into the nature of its contents, when the man 
 who had once already placed his life in jeopardy, 
 seized him by the arm, and with a rude exercise of 
 his strength threw him from the spot he had se- 
 lected as the one most convenient for his object. 
 
 “ It’s an honest regulation, friend,” the fellow 
 dryly observed, though with an eye that threatened 
 volumes, “and sometimes it is a safe one, which 
 says, ‘Mind your own business.’” 
 
 “ Men seldom bring any thing to be concealed 
 into these deserts,” returned the old man, as if will- 
 ing and yet a little ignorant how to apologize for 
 the liberty he had been about to take, “ and I had 
 hoped no offence in examining your comforts.” 
 
 “ They seldom bring themselves, I reckon. 
 Though this has the look of an old county, to 
 my eye it seems not to be overly peopled.” 
 
 “ The land is as aged as the rest of the works 
 of the Lord, I believe ; but you say true concern- 
 ing its inhabitants. Many months have passed 
 since I have laid eyes on a face of my own 
 color before your own. I say again, friend, I 
 meant no harm; I did not know but there was 
 something behind the cloth that might bring for- 
 mer days to my mind.” 
 
 As the stranger ended his simple explanation 
 he walked meekly away, like one who felt the 
 deepest sense of the right which every man has 
 to the quiet enjoyment of his own, without any 
 troublesome interference on the part of his neigh- 
 bor ; a wholesome and a just principle that he had 
 also most probably imbibed from the habits of his 
 secluded life. As he passed toward the little en- 
 campment of the emigrants, for such the place 
 had now become, he heard the voice of the leader 
 calling aloud in its hoarse tones, tf*e name of— 
 
THE ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 11 
 
 “Ellen Wade 1” 
 
 The girl, who has been already introduced to 
 ihe reader, and who was occupied with the others 
 of her sex around the fires, sprang willingly for- 
 ward at this summons ; and, passing the stranger 
 with the activity of a youug antelope, she was in- 
 stantly lost behind the forbidden folds of the tent. 
 Neither her sudden disappearance, nor any of the 
 arrangements we have mentioned, seemed, how- 
 ever, to excite the smallest surprise among the 
 remainder of the party. The young men, who 
 had already completed their tasks with the axe, 
 were all engaged, after their lounging and listless 
 manner: some in bestowing equitable portions of 
 the fodder among the different animals ; others in 
 plying the heavy pestle of a movable hominy- 
 mortar ; * and one or two in wheeling the remain- 
 der of the wagons aside, and arranging them in 
 such a manner as to farm a sort of outwork for 
 their otherwise defenceless bivouac. 
 
 These several duties were soon performed, and, 
 as darkness now began to conceal the objects on the 
 surrounding prairie,, the shrill-toned termagant, 
 whose voice since the halt had been diligently 
 exercised among her idle and drowsy offspring, 
 announced, in tones that might have been heard 
 at a dangerous distance, that the evening meal 
 waited only for the approach of those who were 
 to consume it. Whatever may be the other qual- 
 ities of a border-man, he is seldom deficient in 
 the virtue of hospitality. The emigrant no sooner 
 heard the sharp call of his wife, than he cast his 
 eyes about him in quest of the stranger, in order 
 to offer him the place of distinction in the rude 
 entertainment to which they were so unceremoni- 
 ously summoned. 
 
 “ I thank you, friend,” the old man replied to 
 the rough invitation to take a seat nigh the smok- 
 ing kettle ; “ you have my hearty thanks ; but I 
 have eaten for the day, and am not one of them 
 who dig their graves with their teeth. Well; as 
 you wish it, I will take a place, for it is long sin’ 
 I have seen people of my color eating their daily 
 bread.” 
 
 “ Youar’ an old settler in these districts, then?” 
 the emigrant rather remarked than inquired, with 
 a mouth filled nearly to overflowing with the deli- 
 cious hominy, prepared by his skilful though re- 
 pulsive spouse. “They told us below, we should 
 find settlers something thihnish hereaway, and I 
 must say the report was mainly true ; for, unless 
 we count the Canada traders on the big river, you 
 ar’ the first white face I have met in a good five 
 
 * Hominy is a dish composed chiefly of cracked corn, 
 •r maize. 
 
 hundred miles ; that is, calculating according to 
 your own reckoning.” 
 
 “ Though I have spent some years in this 
 quarter, I can hardly be called a settler, seeing 
 that I have no regular abode, and seldom pass 
 more than a month at a time on the same range.” 
 
 “ A hunter, I reckon ? ” the other continued, 
 glancing his eyes aside, as if to examine the equip- 
 ments of his new acquaintance ; “ your fixen seem 
 none of the best for such a calling.” 
 
 “ They are old, and nearly ready to be laid 
 aside, like their master,” said the old man, regard- 
 ing his rifle with a look in which affection and 
 regret were singularly blended ; “ and I may say 
 they are but little needed, too. You are mistaken, 
 friend, in calling me a hunter ; I am nothing better 
 than a trapper.” * 
 
 “ If you ar’ much of the one, I’m bold to say 
 you ar’ something of the other ; for the two call- 
 ings go mainly together in these districts.” 
 
 “ To the shame of the man who is able to fol- 
 low the first be it so said ! ” returned the trapper, 
 whom in future we shall choose to designate by 
 his pursuit ; “ for more than fifty years did I carry 
 my rifle in the wilderness, without so much as 
 setting a snare for even a bird that flies the 
 heavens ; much less a beast that has nothing but 
 legs for its gifts.” 
 
 “ I see but little difference whether a man geto 
 his peltry by the rifle or by the trap,” 6aid the 
 ill-looking companion of the emigrant, in his 
 rough manner. “The ’arth was made for our 
 comfort ; and, for that matter, so ar’ its creatur’s.” 
 
 “ You seem to have but little plunder,! stran- 
 ger, for one who is far abroad,” bluntly interrupted 
 the emigrant, as if he had a reason for wishing to 
 change the conversation. “ I hope you ar’ better 
 off for skins.” 
 
 “ I make but little use of either,” the trapper 
 quietly replied. “At my time of life, food and 
 clothing be all that is needed ; and I have little 
 occasion for what you call plunder, unless it may 
 be now and then to barter for a horn of powder 
 or a bar of lead.” 
 
 “You ar’ not, then, of these parts by natur’, 
 
 * It is scarcely necessary to say that this American 
 word means one who takes his game in a trap. It is of 
 general use on the frontiers. The beaver, an animal too 
 sagacious to be easily killed, is oftener taken in this way 
 than in any other. 
 
 t The cant word for luggage m the Western States of 
 America is “ plunder.” The term might easily mislead one 
 as to the character of the people, who, notwithstanding their 
 pleasant use of so expressive a word, are, like the inhabitants 
 of all new settlements, hospitable and honest. Knavery of 
 the description conveyed by “plunder,” is chiefly found ir 
 i cgions more civilized. 
 
]£2 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 friend,” the emigrant continued, having in his i 
 mind the exception which the other had taken to 
 the very equivocal word, which he himself, accord- 
 ing to the custom of the country, had used for 
 “ baggage,” or “ effects.” 
 
 “ I was born on the sea-shore, though most of 
 my life has been passed in the woods.” 
 
 The whole party now looked up at him, as 
 men are apt to turn their eyes on some unexpected 
 object of general interest. One or two of the 
 young men repeated the words “ sea-shore ; ” and 
 the women tendered him one of those civilities 
 with which, uncouth as they were, she was little 
 accustomed to grace her hospitality, as if in def- 
 erence to the travelled dignity of her guest. 
 After a long and seemingly a meditating silence,, 
 the emigrant, who had, however, seen no appar- 
 ent necessity to suspend the functions of his mas- 
 ticating powers, resumed the discourse. 
 
 “ It is a long road, as I have heard, from the wa- 
 ters of the West to the shores of the main sea ? ” 
 
 a It is a weary path, indeed, friend ; and much 
 have I seen, and something have I suffered, in 
 journeying over it.” 
 
 “ A man would see a good deal of hard travel 
 in going its length ! ” 
 
 “ Seventy-and-five years have I been upon the 
 road; and there are not half that number of 
 leagues in the whole distance, after you leave the 
 Hudson, on which I have not tasted venison of 
 my own killing. But this is vain boasting. Of 
 what use are former deeds, when time draws to 
 an end ? ” 
 
 “ I once met a man that had boated on the 
 river he names,” observed the eldest son, speak- 
 ing in a low tone of voice, like one who distrusted 
 his knowledge, and deemed it prudent to assume 
 a becoming diffidence in the presence of a man 
 who had seen so much ; “ from his tell, it must 
 be a considerable stream, and deep enough for a 
 keel-boat from top to bottom.” 
 
 “ It is a wide and deep water-course, and many 
 sightly towns are there growing on its banks,” 
 returned the trapper ; “ and yet it is but a brook 
 to the waters of the endless river ! ” 
 
 “ I call nothing a stream that a man can travel 
 round,” exclaimed the ill-looking associate of the 
 emigrant ; “ a real river must be crossed ; not 
 headed, like a bear in a county hunt.” * 
 
 * There is a practice in the new countries, to assemble 
 the men of a large district, sometimes of an entire county, 
 to exterminate the beasts of prey. They form themselves 
 Into a circle of several miles in extent, and gradually draw 
 nearer, killing all before them. The allusion is to this cus- 
 tom, in which tho hunted beast is turned from one to 
 another. 
 
 | “ Have you been far toward the sundown, 
 
 friend ? ” interrupted the emigrant, as if he desired 
 to keep his rough companion as much as possible 
 out of the discourse. “ I find it is a wide tract 
 of clearing this, into which I have fallen.” 
 
 “ You may travel weeks and you will see it 
 the same. I often think the Lord has placed this 
 barren belt of prairie behind the States, to warn 
 men to what their folly may yet bring the land ! 
 Ay, weeks, if not months, may you journey in 
 these open fields, in which there is neither dwell- 
 ing nor habitation for man or beast. Even the 
 savage animals travel miles on miles to seek their 
 dens ; and yet the wind seldom blows from the 
 east, but I conceit the sound of axes and the 
 crash of falling trees are in my ears.” 
 
 As the old man spoke with the seriousness 
 and dignity that age seldom fails to communicate 
 even to less striking sentiments, his auditors were 
 deeply attentive, and as silent as the grave. In- 
 deed, the trapper was left to renew the dialogue 
 himself, which he soon did by asking a question, 
 in the indirect manner so much in use by the 
 border inhabitants. 
 
 “You found it no easy matter to ford the 
 water-courses, and to make your way so deep into 
 the prairies, friend, with teams of horses and herds 
 of homed beasts ? ” 
 
 “ I kept the left bank of the main river,” the 
 emigrant replied, “ until I found the stream lead- 
 ing too much to the north, when we rafted ourselves 
 across without any great suffering. The woman 
 lost a fleece or two from the next year’s shearing, 
 and the girls had one cow less to their dairy. Since 
 then, we have done bravely, by bridging a creek 
 every day or two.” 
 
 “It is likely you will continue west until you 
 come to land more suitable for a settlement? ” 
 
 “ Until I see reason to stop, or to turn ag’in,” 
 the emigrant bluntly answered, rising at the same 
 time, and cutting short the dialogue by the sud- 
 denness of the movement. His example was fol- 
 lowed by the trapper, as well as the rest of the 
 party ; and then, without much deference to the 
 presence of their guest, the travellers proceeded 
 to make their dispositions to pass the night, 
 Several little bowers, or rather huts, had already 
 been formed of the tops of trees, blankets of 
 coarse country manufacture, and the skins of 
 buffaloes, united without much reference to any 
 other object than temporary comfort. Into these 
 covers the children, with their mother, soon drew 
 themselves, where* it is more than possible, they 
 were all speedily lost in the oblivion of sleep. 
 Before the men, however, could seek tlicir rest, 
 they had sundry little duties to perform ; such as 
 
ELLEN WADE. 
 
 13 
 
 completing their works of defence, carefully con- 
 cealing the fires, replenishing the fodder of their 
 cattle, and setting the watch that wa9 to protect 
 the party in the approaching hours of night. 
 
 The former was effected by dragging the trunks 
 of a few trees into the intervals left by the wagons, 
 and along the open space between the vehicles and 
 the thicket, on which, in military language, the 
 encampment would be said to have rested ; thus 
 forming a sort of chevaux de frise on three sides 
 of the position. Within these narrow limits (with 
 the exception of what the tent contained), both 
 man and beast were now collected ; the latter be- 
 ing far too happy in resting their weary limbs to 
 give any undue annoyance to their scarcely more 
 intelligent associates. Two of the young men 
 took their rifles ; and, first renewing the priming, 
 and examining the flints with the utmost care, 
 they proceeded, the one to the extreme right, and 
 the other to the left of the encampment, where 
 they posted themselves within the shadows of the 
 thicket ; but in such positions as enabled each to 
 overlook a portion of the prairie. 
 
 The trapper loitered about the place, declining 
 to share the straw of the emigrant, until the whole 
 arrangement was completed ; and then, without the 
 ceremony of an adieu, he slowly retired from the 
 spot. 
 
 It was now in the first watch of the night ; 
 and the pale, quivering, and deceptive light from 
 a new moon was playing over the endless waves 
 of the prairie, tipping the swells with gleams of 
 brightness, and leaving the interval land in deep 
 shadow. Accustomed to scenes of solitude like 
 the present, the old man, as he left the encamp- 
 ment, proceeded alone into the waste, like a 
 bold vessel leaving its haven to enter on the track- 
 less field of the ocean. He appeared to move for 
 some time without object, or, indeed, without any 
 apparent consciousness whither his limbs were 
 carrying him. At length, on reaching the rise of 
 one of the undulations, he came to a stand ; and, 
 for the first time since leaving the band who had 
 caused such a flood of reflections and recollections 
 to crowd upon his mind, the old man became aware 
 of his present situation. Throwing one end of his 
 rifle to the earth, he stood leaning on the other, 
 again lost in deep contemplation for several miu- 
 utes, during which time his hound came and 
 crouched at his feet. A deep, menacing growl 
 from the faithful animal first aroused him from his 
 musing. 
 
 “ What now, dog ? ” he said, looking down at 
 his companion, as if he addressed a being of an 
 intelligence equal to his own, and speaking in a 
 voice of great affection. “ What is it, pup ? ha ! 
 
 Hector ; what is it nosing now ? It won’t do, dog ; 
 it won’t do ; the very fa’ans play in open view of 
 us, without minding so worn-out curs as you and I. 
 Instinct is their gift, Hector ; and they have found 
 out how little we are to be feared, they have ! ” 
 
 The dog stretched his head upward, and re- 
 sponded to the words of his master by a long and 
 plaintive whine, which he even continued after he 
 had again buried his head in the grass, as if he 
 held an intelligent communication with one who 
 so well knew how to interpret dumb discourse. 
 
 “ This is a manifest warning, Hector l ” the 
 trapper continued, dropping his voice to the tones 
 of caution, and looking warily about him. “ What 
 is it, pup ; speak plainer, dog ; what is it ? ” 
 
 The hound had, however, already laid his nose 
 to the earth, and was silent ; appearing to slumber. 
 But the keen, quick glances of his master soon 
 caught a glimpse of a distant figure, which seemed, 
 through the deceptive light, floating along the 
 very elevation on which he had placed himself. 
 Presently its proportions became more distinct, 
 and then an airy female form appeared to hesitate, 
 as if considering whether it would be prudent to 
 advance. Though the eyes of the dog were now 
 to be seen glancing in the rays of the moon, open- 
 ing and shutting lazily, he gave no further signs 
 of displeasure. 
 
 “ Come nigher ; we are friends,” said the trap- 
 per, associating himself with his companion by 
 long use, and probably through the strength of 
 the secret tie that connected them together; “ we 
 are your friends ; none will harm you.” 
 
 Encouraged by the mild tones of his voice, and 
 perhaps led on by the earnestness of her purpose, 
 the female approached until she stood at his side ; 
 when the old man perceived his visitor to be the 
 young woman with whom the reader has already 
 become acquainted by the name of “ Ellen 
 Wade.” 
 
 “ I had thought you were gone,” she said, 
 looking timidly and anxiously around. “They 
 said you were gone ; and that we should never see 
 you again. I did not think it was you ! ” 
 
 Men are no common objects in these empty 
 fields,” returned the trapper, “ and I humbly hope, 
 though I have so long consorted with the. beasts 
 of the wilderness, that I have not yet lost the look 
 of my kind.” 
 
 “ Oh ! I knew you to be a man, and I thought 
 I knew the whine of the hound too,” she answered 
 hastily, as if willing to explain she knew not what, 
 and then checking herself, like one fearful of hav- 
 ing already said too much. 
 
 “I saw no dogs among the teams of your fa 
 ther,” the trapper remarked. 
 
14 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 “Father!” exclaimed the girl, feelingly, “I 
 have no father ! I had nearly said no friend.” 
 
 The old man turned toward her with a look 
 of kindness and interest that was even more 
 conciliating than, the ordinary upright and benev- 
 olent expression of his weather-beaten counte- 
 nance. 
 
 “Why then do you venture in a place where 
 none but the strong should come ? ” he demanded. 
 “ Did you not know that when you crossed the 
 big river you left a friend behind you that is 
 always bound to look to the young and feeble like 
 yourself? ” 
 
 “ Of whom do you speak ? ” 
 
 “ The law — ’tis bad to have it, but I some- 
 times think it is worse to be entirely without it. 
 Age and weakness has brought me to feel such 
 weakness at times. Yes — yes , the law is needed 
 when such as have not the gifts of strength and 
 wisdom are to be taken care of. I hope, young 
 woman, if you have no father, you have at least a 
 brother.” 
 
 The maiden felt the tacit reproach conveyed 
 in this covert question, and for a moment she 
 remained in an embarrassed silence. But, catch- 
 ing a glimpse of the mild and serious features of 
 her companion as he continued to gaze on her 
 with a look of interest, she replied firmly and in 
 a manner that left no doubt she comprehended 
 his meaning : 
 
 “Heaven forbid that any such as you have 
 seen should be a brother of mine, or any thing 
 else near or dear to me ! But, tell me, do you 
 then actually live alone in this desert district, old 
 man ; is there really none here besides yourself? ” 
 
 “There are hundreds, nay, thousands of the 
 rightful owners of the country, roving about the 
 plains ; but few of our own color.” 
 
 “ And have you then met none who are white 
 but us ? ” interrupted the girl, like one too im- 
 patient to await the tardy explanations of age and 
 deliberation. 
 
 “ Not in many days. — Hush, Hector, hush !” he 
 added, in reply to a low and nearly inaudible 
 growl from his hound. “ The dog scents mischief 
 in the wind ! The black bears from the moun- 
 tains sometimes make their way even lower than 
 this. The pup is not apt to complain of the 
 harmless game. I am not so ready and true with 
 the piece as I used-to-could-be, yet I have struck 
 even the fiercest animals of the prairie in my 
 time ; so you have little reason for fear, young 
 woman.” 
 
 The girl raised her eyes in that peculiar 
 manner which is so often practised by her sex 
 when they commence their glances, by examining 
 
 the earth at their feet, and terminate them by 
 noting every thing within the power of human 
 vision ; but she rather manifested the quality of 
 impatience than any feeling of alarm. 
 
 A short bark from the dog, however, soon 
 gave a new direction to the looks of both, and 
 then the real object of his second warning became 
 dimly visible. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 “ Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood, as 
 any in Italy ; and as soon moved to be moody, and a3 soon 
 moody to be moved.” 
 
 Romeo and Juliet. 
 
 Though the trapper manifested some surprise 
 when he perceived that another human figure was 
 approaching him, and that, too, from a direction 
 opposite to the place where the emigrant had 
 made his encampment, it was with the steadiness 
 of one long accustomed to scenes of danger. 
 
 “ This is a man,” he said ; “ and one who has 
 white blood in his veins, or his step would be 
 lighter. It will be well to be ready for the worst, 
 as the half-and-halfs * that one meets in these dis- 
 tant districts are altogether more barbarous than 
 the real savage.” 
 
 He raised his rifle while he spoke, and assured 
 himself of the state of its flint, as well as of the 
 priming, by manual examination. But his arm 
 was arrested, while in the act of throwing forward 
 the muzzle of the piece, by the eager and trem- 
 bling hands of his companion. 
 
 “ For God’s sake be not too hasty,” she said ; 
 “ it may be a friend — an acquaintance — a neigh- 
 bor!” 
 
 “A friend!” the old man repeated, deliber- 
 ately releasing himself at the same time from her 
 grasp. “ Friends are rare in any land, and less 
 in this, perhaps, than in another : and the neigh- 
 borhood is too thinly settled to make it likely that 
 he who comes toward us is even an acquaintance.” 
 
 “ But, though a stranger, you would not seek 
 his blood ! ” 
 
 The trapper earnestly regarded her anxious and 
 frightened features, and then he dropped the butt 
 of his rifle on the ground, like one whose purpose 
 had undergone a sudden change. 
 
 “No,” he said, speaking rather to himself 
 than to his companion, “she is right; blood is 
 not to be spilt, to save the life of one so useless, 
 
 * Half-breeds ; men born of Indian women by white 
 fathers. This race has much of the depravity of civilization 
 without the virtues of the savage. 
 
THE TRAPPER AND HIS NEW FRIENDS. 
 
 15 
 
 and so near his time. Let him come on; my 
 skins, my traps, and even my rifle, shall be his, if 
 he sees fit to demand them.” 
 
 “He will ask for neither : he wants neither,” 
 returned the girl ; “ if he be an honest man, he will 
 surely be content with his own, and ask for nothing 
 that is the property of another.” 
 
 The trapper had not time to express the sur- 
 prise he felt at this incoherent and contradictory 
 language, for the man who was advancing, was 
 already within fifty feet of the place where they 
 stood. In the mean time Hector had not been an 
 indifferent witness of what was passing. At the 
 sound of the distant footsteps, he had arisen from 
 his warm bed at the feet of his master ; and now, 
 as the stranger appeared in open view, he stalked 
 slowly toward him, crouching to the earth like a 
 panther about to take his leap. 
 
 “ Call in your dog,” said a firm, deep, manly 
 voice, in tones of friendship rather than of men- 
 ace ; “ I love a hound, and should be sorry to do 
 an injury to the animal.” 
 
 “ You hear what is said about you, pup ? ” the 
 trapper answered ; “ come hither, fool. His growl 
 and his bark are all that is left him now ; you may 
 come on, friend ; the hound is toothless.” 
 
 The stranger profited by the intelligence. He 
 sprang eagerly forward, and at the next instant 
 stood at the side of Ellen Wade. After assuring 
 himself of the identity of the latter by a hasty but 
 keen glance, he turned his attention, w ith a quick- 
 ness and impatience that proved the interest he 
 took in the result, to a similar examination of her 
 companion. 
 
 “ From what cloud have you fallen, my good 
 old man ? ” he said, in a careless, off-hand, heed- 
 less manner, that seemed too natural to be as- 
 sumed ; “ or do you actually live, hereaway, in the 
 prairies ? ” 
 
 “ I have been long on earth, and never I hope 
 nigher to heaven than I am at this moment,” re- 
 turned the trapper; “my dwelling, if dwelling I 
 may be said to have, is not far distant. Now 
 may I take the liberty with you, that you are so 
 willing to take with others ? Whence do you 
 come, and where is your home ? ” 
 
 “Softly, softly; when I have done with my 
 catechism, it will be time to begin with yours. 
 What sport is this you follow by moonlight ? ” 
 You are not dodging the buffaloes at such an 
 hour ! ” 
 
 “ I am, as you see, going from an encampment 
 of travellers, which lies over yonder swell in the 
 land, to my own wigwam ; in doing so, I wrong 
 no man.” 
 
 “ All fair and true. And you got this young 
 
 woman to show you the way, because she knows 
 it so well, and you know so little about it your, 
 self!” 
 
 “ I met her, as I have met you, by accident. 
 For ten tiresome years have I dwelt on these open 
 fields, and never, before to-night, have I found 
 human beings with white skins on them, at this 
 hour. If my presence here gives offence, I am 
 sorry, and will go my way. It is more than likely 
 that, when your young friend has told her story, 
 you will be better given to believe mine.” 
 
 “Friend!” said the youth, lifting a cap of 
 skins from his head, and running his fingers 
 leisurely through a dense mass of black and 
 shaggy locks, “if I have ever laid eyes on the 
 girl before to-night, may I — ” 
 
 “You’ve said enough, Paul,” interrupted the 
 female, laying her hand on his mouth, with a fa- 
 miliarity that gave something very like the lie 
 direct to his intended asseveration. “ Our secret 
 will be safe with this honest old man. I know it 
 by his looks and kind words.” 
 
 “ Our secret. Ellen, have you forgot — ” 
 
 “Nothing. I have not forgotten any thing I 
 should remember. But still I say we are safe 
 with this honest trapper.” 
 
 “ Trapper ! is he then a trapper ? Give me 
 your hand, father ; our trades should bring us 
 acquainted.” 
 
 “There is little call for handicrafts in this 
 region,” returned the other, examining the ath- 
 letic and active form of the youth, as he leaned 
 carelessly and not ungracefully on his rifle ; “ the 
 art of taking the cretur’s of God in traps and nets, 
 is one that needs more cunning than manhood ; 
 and yet am I brought to practise it in my age ! 
 But it would be quite as seemly in one like you 
 to follow a pursuit better becoming your years 
 and courage.” 
 
 “ I ! I never took even a slinking mink or a 
 paddling muskrat in a cage ; though I admit hav- 
 ing peppered a few of the dark-skin’d devils, when 
 I had much better have kept my powder in the 
 horn and the lead in its pouch. Not I, old man 
 nothing that crawls the earth is for my sport.” 
 
 “ What then may you do for a living, friend ? 
 — for little profit is to be made in these districts, 
 if a man denies himself his lawful right in the 
 beasts of the fields.” 
 
 “I deny myself nothing. If a bear crosses 
 my path, he is soon the mere ghost of Bruin. 
 The deer begin to nose me ; and as for the buffalo, 
 
 I have killed more beef, old stranger, than the 
 largest butcher in all Kentuck.” 
 
 “You can shoot, then!” demanded the trap- 
 per, with a glow of latent fire glimmering about 
 
16 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 his eyes; “is your hand true and your look 
 quick ? ” 
 
 “ The first is like a steel trap, and the last 
 nimbler than a buck-shot. 1 wish it was hot 
 noon now, grand’ther ; and that there was an acre 
 or two of your white swans or of black-feathered 
 ducks going south, over our heads ; you or Ellen 
 here might set your heart on the finest in the 
 flock, and my character against a horn of pow- 
 der, that the bird would be hanging head down- 
 ward in five minutes; and that too with a single 
 ball. I scorn a shot-gun ! No man can say he 
 ever knew me carry one a rod/’ 
 
 “The lad has good in him! I see it plainly 
 by his manner ,” said the trapper, turning to Ellen 
 with an encouraging air ; “ I will take it on my- 
 self to say, that you are not unwise in meeting 
 him as you do. — Tell me, lad ; did you ever strike 
 a leaping buck atwixt the antlers ? — Hector ; 
 quiet, pup ; quiet ! — The very name of venison 
 quickens the blood of the cur. — Did you ever take 
 an animal in that fashion on the long leap ? ” 
 
 “ You might just as well ask me, ‘Did you ever 
 eat ? ’ There is no fashion, old stranger, that a 
 deer has not been touched by my hand, unless it 
 was when asleep.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay ; you have a long and a happy — ay, 
 and an honest life afore you ! I am old, and, I sup- 
 pose I might also say, worn out and useless ; but 
 'f it was given me to choose my time and place 
 again — as such things are not and ought not ever 
 to be given to the will of man — though if such a 
 gift was to be given me, I would say, twenty and 
 the wilderness ! But tell me ; how do you part 
 with the peltry ? ” 
 
 “ With my pelts ! I never took a skin from a 
 buck nor a quill from a goose in my life ! I 
 knock them over now and then for a meal, and 
 sometimes to keep my finger true to the touch ; 
 but when hunger is satisfied the prairie-wolves 
 get the remainder. No — no — I keep to my call- 
 ing ; which pays me better than all the fur I 
 could sell on the other side of the big river.” 
 
 The old man appeared to ponder a little ; but, 
 shaking his head, he soon continued : 
 
 “ I know of but one business that can be fol- 
 .owed here with profit — ” 
 
 He was interrupted by the youth, who raised 
 a, small cup of tin which dangled at his neck be- 
 fore the other’s eyes, and, springing its lid, the 
 delicious odor of the finest-flavored honey dif- 
 fused itself over the organs of the trapper. 
 
 “A bee-hunter ! ” observed the latter, with a 
 readiness that proved he understood the nature 
 of the occupation, though not without some little 
 Surprise at discovering one of the other’s spirited 
 
 mien engaged in so humble a pursuit. “ It pays 
 well in the skirts of the settlements, but I should 
 call it a doubtful trade in the more open districts.” 
 
 “ You think a tree is wanting for a swarm to 
 settle in ! But I know differently ; and so I have 
 stretched out a few hundred miles farther west 
 than common to taste your honey. And now I 
 have bated your curiosity, stranger, you will just 
 move aside while I tell the remainder of my story 
 to this young woman.” 
 
 “It is not necessary* I’m sure it is not neces- 
 sary, that he should leave us,” said Ellen, with a 
 haste that implied some little consciousness of the 
 singularity if not of the impropriety of the request. 
 “You can have nothing to say that the whole 
 world might not hear.” 
 
 “ No ! well, may I be stung to death by drones 
 if I understand the buzzings of a woman’s mind ! 
 For my part, Ellen, I care for nothing nor any- 
 body ; and am just as ready to go down to the 
 place where your uncle, if uncle you can call one 
 who I’ll swear is no relation, has hoppled his teams, 
 and tell the old man my mind now, as I shall be 
 a year hence. You have only to say a single- 
 word, and the thing is done ; let him like it or 
 not.” 
 
 “You are ever so hasty and rash, Paul Hover, 
 that I seldom know when I am safe with you. 
 How can you, who know the danger of our being 
 seen together, speak of going before my unole 
 and his sons ? 
 
 “ Has he done that of which he has reason to 
 be ashamed ? ” demanded the trapper, who had 
 not moved an inch from the place he first occu- 
 pied. ■ 
 
 “ Heaven forbid ! But there are reasons why 
 he should not be seen just now, that could do him 
 no harm if known, but which may not yet be told. 
 And so if you will wait, father, near yonder wil- 
 low-bush, until I have heard what Paul can pos- 
 sibly have to say, I shall be sure to , come and 
 wish you a good-night before I return to the 
 camp.” 
 
 The trapper drew slowly aside, as if satisfied 
 with the somewhat incoherent reason Ellen had 
 given why he should retire. When completely 
 out of ear-shot of the earnest and hurried dialogue 
 that instantly commenced between the two he had 
 left, the old man again paused, and patiently 
 awaited the moment when he might renew his 
 conversation with beings in whom he felt a grow- 
 ing interest, no less from the mysterious charac- 
 ter of their intercourse than from a natural sym- 
 pathy in the welfare of a pair so young, and who, 
 as in the simplicity of his heart he was also fain 
 to believe, were also so deserving. He was ac- 
 
PAUL HOVER, TIIE BEE-HUNTER. 
 
 17 
 
 eompanied by his indolent but attached dog, who 
 once more made his bed at the feet of his master, 
 and soon lay slumbering as usual, with his head 
 nearly buried in the dense fog of the prairie-grass. 
 
 It was a spectacle so unusual to see the human 
 form amid the solitude in which he dwelt, that 
 the trapper bent his eyes on the dim figures of his 
 new acquaintances with sensations to which he 
 had long been a stranger. Their presence awak- 
 ened recollections and emotions to which his 
 sturdy but honest nature had latterly paid but 
 little homage, and his thoughts began to wander 
 over the varied scenes of a life of hardships that 
 had been strangely blended with scenes of wild 
 and peculiar enjoyment. The train taken by his 
 thoughts had already conducted him in imagina- 
 tion far into an ideal world, when he was once 
 more suddenly recalled to the reality of his situa- 
 tion by the movements of the faithful hound. 
 
 The dog, who, in submission to his years and 
 infirmities, had manifested such a decided pro- 
 pensity to sleep, now arose and stalked from out 
 the shadow cast by the tall person of his master, 
 and looked abroad into the prairie, as if his in- 
 stinct apprised him of the presence of still another 
 visitor. Then seemingly content with his exam- 
 ination, he returned to his comfortable post, and 
 disposed of his weary limbs with the deliberation 
 and care of one who was no novice in the art of 
 self-preservation. 
 
 “ What ! again, Hector ? ” said the trapper in 
 a soothing voice, which he had the caution, how- 
 ever, to utter in an under-tone ; “ what is it, dog ? 
 tell it all to his master, pup ; what is it ? ” 
 
 Hector answered with another growl, but was 
 content to continue in his lair. These were evi- 
 dences of intelligence and distrust, to which one 
 as practised as the trapper could not turn an inat- 
 tentive ear. He again spoke to the dog, encour- 
 aging him to watchfulness by a low, guarded 
 whistle. The animal, however, as if conscious 
 of having already discharged his duty, obstinately 
 refused to raise his head from the grass. 
 
 “ A hint from such a friend is far better than 
 man’s advice ! ” muttered the trapper, as he slowly 
 moved toward the couple who were yet too earnest- 
 ly and abstractedly engaged in their own discourse 
 to notice his approach; “and none but a con- 
 ceited settler would hear it and not respect it 
 as he ought. — Children,” he added, when nigh 
 enough to address his companions, “we are not 
 alone in these dreary fields ; there are others 
 stirring, and therefore, to the shame of our kind 
 be it said, danger is nigh.” 
 
 w If one of the lazy sons of Skirting Ishmael 
 18 prowling out of his camp to-night,” said the 
 S 
 
 young bee-hunter, with great vivacity, and in 
 tones that might easily have been excited to & 
 menace, “ he may have an end put to his journey 
 sooner than either he or his father is dreaming ! ” 
 
 “ My life on it they are all with the teams,” 
 hurriedly answered the girl. “I saw the whole 
 of them asleep myself, except the two on watch ; 
 and their natures have greatly changed if they too 
 are not both dreaming of a turkey-hunt or a court- 
 house fight at this very moment.” 
 
 “ Some beast with a strong scent has passed 
 between the wind and the hound, father, and it 
 makes him uneasy ; or perhaps he too is dream- 
 ing. I had a pup of my own in Kentuck, that 
 would start upon a long chase from a deep sleep ; 
 and all upon the fancy of some dream. Go to him 
 and pinch his ear, that the beast may feci the life 
 within him.” 
 
 “ Not so — not so,” returned the trapper, shak- 
 ing his head as one who better understood the 
 qualities of his dog. “Youth sleeps, ay, and 
 dreams too; but age is awake and watchfuL 
 The pup is never false with his nose, and long 
 experience tells me to heed his warnings.” 
 
 “ Did you ever run him upon the trail of car- 
 rion ? ” 
 
 “ Why, I must say that the ravenous beasts 
 have sometimes tempted me to let him loose, for 
 they are as greedy as men after the venison, in its 
 season ; but then I know the reason of the dog 
 would tell him the object ! No — no, Hector is an 
 animal known in the ways of man, and will never 
 strike a false trail when a true one is to be fov- 
 fowed ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, the secret is out ! you have run the 
 hound on the track of a wolf, and his nose has a 
 better memory than his master ! ” said the bee- 
 hunter, laughing. 
 
 “ I have seen the ereatur’ sleep for hours with 
 pack after pack in open view. A wolf might eat 
 out of his tray without a snarl, unless there was 
 a scarcity ; then, indeed, Hector would be apt to 
 claim his own.” 
 
 “ There are panthers down from the moun- 
 tains ; I saw one make a leap at a sick deer, as 
 the sun was setting. Go — go you back to the dog, 
 and tell him the truth — father ; in a minute, I — ” 
 
 He was interrupted by a long, loud, and pite- 
 ous howl from the hound, which rose on the air of 
 the evening, like the wailing of some spirit of the 
 place, and passed off into the prairie, in cadences 
 that rose and fell like its own undulating surface. 
 The trapper was impressively silent, listening in- 
 tently. Even the reckless bee-hunter was struck 
 with the wailing wildness of the sounds. After a 
 short pause the former whistled the dog to hia 
 
18 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 Bide, and, turning to his companions, he said with 
 the seriousness which in his opinion the occasion 
 demanded : 
 
 “ They who think man enjoys all the knowledge 
 of the creatur’s of God, will live to be disappointed, 
 if they reach, as I have done, the age of fourscore 
 years. I will not take upon myself to say what 
 mischief is brewing, nor will I vouch that even 
 the hound himself knows so much ; but, that evil 
 is nigh, and that wisdom invites us to avoid it, I 
 have heard from the mouth of one who never lies. 
 I did think the pup had become unused to the 
 footsteps of man, and that your presence made 
 him uneasy ; but his nose has been on a long scent 
 the whole evening, and what I mistook as a notice 
 of your coming has been intended for something 
 more serious. If the advice of an old man is, then, 
 worth hearkening to, children, you will quickly go 
 different ways to your places of shelter and 
 safety.” 
 
 “If I quit Ellen at such a moment,” exclaimed 
 the youth, “ may I — ■” 
 
 “You’ve said enough !” the girl interrupted, 
 by again interposing a hand that might, both by 
 its delicacy and color, have graced a far more ele- 
 vated station in life ; “ my time is out, and we 
 must part at all events— so good-night, Paul — fa- 
 ther — good-night.” 
 
 “ Hist ! ” said the youth, seizing her arm, as 
 she was in the very act of tripping from his side. 
 “ Hist ! do you hear nothing ? There are buffa- 
 loes playing their pranks at no great distance. 
 That sound beats the earth like a herd of the 
 mad, scampering devils ! ” 
 
 His two companions listened, as people in their 
 situation would be apt to lend their faculties to 
 discover the meaning of any doubtful noises, 
 especially when heard after so many and such 
 startling warnings. The unusual sounds were un- 
 equivocally, though still faintly, audible. The 
 youth and his female companion had made several 
 hurried and vacillating conjectures concerning 
 their nature, when a current of the night air 
 brought the rush of trampling footsteps too sensi- 
 bly to their ears, to render mistake any longer 
 possible. 
 
 “ I am right ! ” said the bee-hunter ; “ a pan- 
 ther is driving a herd before him ; or, may be, 
 there is a battle among the beasts.” 
 
 “Your ears are cheats,” returned the old man, 
 who, from the moment his own organs had been 
 able to catch the distant sounds, stood like a 
 statue made to represent deep attention ; ; the 
 leaps are too long for the buffalo, and too regu- 
 lar for terror. Hist ! now they are in a bottom 
 whore the grass is high, and the sound is deadened ! 
 
 Ay, there they go on the hard earth ! and now 
 they come up the swell, dead upon us ; they will 
 be here afore you can find cover ! ” 
 
 “ Come, Ellen,” cried the youth, seizing his 
 companion by the hand, “ let us make a trial for 
 the encampment.” 
 
 “ Too late ! too late ! ” exclaimed the trapper, 
 “ for the creatur’s are in open view ; and a bloody 
 band of accursed Siouxes they are, by their thiev- 
 ing look, and the random fashion in which they 
 ride !” 
 
 “ Siouxes or devils, they shall find us men ! ” 
 said the bee-hunter, with a mien as fierce as if he 
 led a party of superior strength, and of a courage 
 equal to his own. “You have a piece, old man, 
 and will pull a trigger in behalf of a helpless 
 Christian girl ! ” 
 
 “ Down, down into the grass — down with ye 
 both ! ” whispered the trapper, intimating to them 
 to turn aside to the tall weeds, which grew in a 
 denser body than common near the place where 
 they stood. “ You’ve not the time to fly, nor the 
 numbers to fight, foolish boy. Down into the 
 grass, if you prize the young woman, or value the 
 gift of life ! ” 
 
 His remonstrance, seconded as it was by a 
 prompt and energetic action, did not fail to pro- 
 duce the submission to his order which the occa- 
 sion seemed, indeed, imperiously to require. The 
 moon had fallen behind a sheet of thin, fleecy 
 clouds, which skirted the horizon, leaving just 
 enough of its faint and fluctuating light to render 
 objects visible, dimly revealing their forms and 
 proportions. The trapper, by exercising that 
 species of influence over his companions which 
 experience and decision usually assert in cases of 
 emergency, had effectually succeeded in conceal- 
 ing them in the grass ; and, by the aid of the fee- 
 ble rays of the luminary, he was enabled to scan 
 the disorderly party which was riding, like so 
 many madmen, directly upon them. 
 
 A band of beings, who resembled demons 
 rather than men, sporting in their nightly revels 
 across the bleak plain, was in truth approaching 
 at a fearful rate, and in a direction to leave little 
 hope that some one among them, at least, would 
 not pass over the spot where the trapper and his 
 companions lay. At intervals, the clattering of 
 hoofs was borne along by the night wind, quite 
 audibly in their front, and then again their prog- 
 ress through the fog of the autumnal grass was 
 swift and silent ; adding to the unearthly appear- 
 ance of the spectacle. The trapper, who had 
 called in his hound, and bidden him crouch at hia 
 side, now kneeled in the cover also, and kept a 
 keen and watchful eye on the route of the band. 
 
A BAND OF MOUNTED SIOUX. 
 
 19 
 
 soothing the fears of the girl and restraining the 
 impatience of the youth in the same breath. 
 
 “ If there’s one, there’s thirty of the mis- 
 creants ! ” he said, in a sort of episode to his whis- 
 pered comments. “ Ay, ay ; they are edging tow- 
 ard the river. — Peace, pup, peace. — No, here they 
 come this way again-. — the thieves don’t seem to 
 know their own errand ! If there were just six of 
 us, lad, what a beautiful ambushment we might 
 make upon them, from this very spot I- — it won’t do, 
 it won’t do> boy ; keep yoprself closer, or your 
 head will be seen-*-besides, I’m not altogether 
 strong in the opinion it would be lawful, as they 
 have done us no harm. There they bend again 
 to the riverv- no ; here they come up the swell. 
 Now is the moment to be as still as if the breath 
 had done its duty and departed the body.” 
 
 The old man sank into the grass while he was 
 speaking, as if the final separation to which he 
 alluded had in his own case actually occurred ; 
 and, at the next instant, a band of wild horsemen 
 whirled by them, with the noiseless rapidity in 
 which it might be imagined a troop of spectres 
 would pass. The dark and fleeting forms were al- 
 ready vanished, when the trapper ventured to 
 raise his head to a level with the tops of the bend- 
 ing herbage, motioning at the same time to his 
 companions to maintain their positions and their 
 silence. 
 
 “ They are going down the swell toward the 
 encampment,” he continued, in his former guarded 
 tones ; “ no, they halt in the bottom, and are clus- 
 tering together like deer in council. By the Lord, 
 they are turning again, and we are not yet done 
 with the reptiles ! ” 
 
 Once more he sought his friendly cover, and 
 at the next instant the dark troop were to be seen 
 riding, in a disorderly manner, on the very summit 
 of the little elevation on which the trapper and 
 his companions lay. It was now soon apparent 
 that they had returned to avail themselves of the 
 height of the ground, in order to examine the dim 
 horizon. 
 
 Some dismounted, while others rode to and 
 fro, like men engaged in a local inquiry of much 
 interest. Happily for the hidden party, the grass 
 in which they were concealed not only served to 
 screen them from the eyes of the savages, but op- 
 posed an obstacle to prevent their horses, which 
 were no less rude and untrained than their riders, 
 from trampling on them, in their irregular and 
 wild paces. 
 
 At length an athletic and dark-looking Indian, 
 who, by his air of authority, would seem to be 
 the leader, summoned his chiefs about him, to a 
 consultation, which was held mounted. This body 
 
 was collected on the very margin of that mass of 
 herbage in which the trapper and his companions 
 were hid. As the young man looked up and saw 
 the fierce aspect of the group, which was increas- 
 ing at each instant by the accession of some coun- 
 tenance and figure apparently more forbidding 
 than any which had preceded it, he drew his rifle, 
 by a very natural impulse, from beneath him, and 
 commenced putting it in a state for service. The 
 female at his side buried her face in the grass, 
 by a feeling that was, possibly, quite as natural 
 to her sex and habits, leaving him to follow the 
 impulses of his hot blood ; but his aged and more 
 prudent adviser whispered sternly in his ear: 
 
 “ The tick of the lock is as well known to the 
 knaves as the blast of a trumpet to a soldier ! lay 
 down the pieces — lay down the piece — should the 
 moon touch the barrel, it could not fail to be seen 
 by the devils, whose eyes are keener than the 
 blackest snake’s! The smallest motion, now 
 would be sure to bring an arrow among us.” 
 
 The bee-hunter so far obeyed as to continivr. 
 immovable and silent. But there was still suffi - 
 cient light to convince his companion, by the con 
 tracted brow and threatening eye of the young 
 man, that a discovery would not bestow a blood- 
 less victory on the savages. Finding his advice 
 disregarded, the trapper took his measures accord- 
 ingly, and awaited the result with a resignation 
 and calmness that were characteristic of the indi- 
 vidual. 
 
 In the mean time, the Sioux (for the sagacity 
 of the old man was not deceived in the character 
 of his dangerous neighbors) had terminated their 
 council, and were again dispersed along the ridge 
 of land as if they sought some hidden object. 
 
 “ The imps have heard the hound ! ” whispered 
 the trapper, “ and their ears are too true to be 
 cheated in the distance. Keep close, lad, keep 
 close ; down with your head to the very earth, 
 like a dog that sleeps ! ” 
 
 “ Let us rather take to our feet, and trust to 
 manhood,” returned his impatient companion. 
 
 He would have proceeded ; but, feeling a hand 
 laid rudely on his shoulder, he turned his eyes 
 upward, and beheld the dark and savage counte- 
 nance of an Indian gleaming full upon him. Not- 
 withstanding the surprise and the disadvantage of 
 his attitude, the youth was not disposed to become 
 a captive so easily. Quicker than a flash of his 
 own gun he sprang upon his feet, and was throt- 
 tling his opponent with a power tha,t would soon 
 have terminated the contest, when he felt the 
 arms of the trapper thrown around his body, con- 
 fining his exertions by a strength very little infe- 
 rior to his own. Before he had time to reproach 
 
20 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 his comrade for this apparent treachery, a dozen 
 Sioux were around them, and the whole party 
 were compelled to yield themselves as prisoners. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 “ — With much tnore dismay 
 I view the fight, than those who make the fray,:’ 
 
 Merchant of Venice. 
 
 The unfortunate bee-hunter and his compan- 
 ions had become the captives of a people who 
 might, without exaggeration, be called the Ishma- 
 elites of the American deserts. From time imme- 
 morial the hands of the Sioux had been turned 
 against their neighbors of the prairies ; and even 
 at this day, when the influence and authority of 
 a civilized government are beginning to be felt 
 around them, they are considered a treacherous 
 and dangerous race. At the period of our tale, 
 the case was far worse ; few white men trusting 
 themselves in the remote and unprotected regions 
 where so false a tribe was known to dwell. 
 
 Notwithstanding the peaceable submission of 
 the trapper, he was quite aware of the character 
 of the band into whose hands he had fallen. It 
 would have been difficult, however, for the nicest 
 judge to have determined whether fear, policy, or 
 resignation, formed the secret motive of the old 
 man, in permitting himself to be plundered as he 
 did, without a murmur. So' far from opposing 
 any remonstrance to the rude and violent manner 
 in which his conquerors performed the customary 
 office, he even anticipated their cupidity, by ten- 
 dering to the chiefs such articles as he thought 
 might prove the most acceptable. On the other 
 hand, Paul Hover, who had been literally a con- 
 quered man, manifested the strongest repugnance 
 to submit to the violent liberties that were taken 
 with his person and property. He even gave 
 several exceedingly unequivocal demonstrations 
 of his displeasure during the summary process, 
 and would, more than once, have broken out in 
 open and desperate resistance, but for the admo- 
 nitions and entreaties of the trembling girl, who 
 clung to his side in a manner so dependent as to 
 show the youth that her hopes were now placed 
 no less on his discretion than 02 lis disposition 
 to serve her. 
 
 The Indians had, however, no soOner deprived 
 the captifes of their arms and ammunition, and 
 stripped them of a few articles of dress of little 
 use, and perhaps of less value, than they appeared 
 disposed to grant them a respite. Business of 
 greater moment pressed on their hards, and re- 
 
 quired their attention. Another consultation of 
 the chiefs was convened, and it was apparent, by 
 the earnest and vehement manner of the few who 
 spoke, that the warriors conceived their success 
 as yet to be far from complete. 
 
 “ It will be well,” whispered the trapper, who 
 knew enough of the language he heard to compre- 
 hend perfectly the subject of the discussion, “ if 
 the travellers who lie near the willow-brake are 
 not awoke out of their sleep by a visit from these 
 miscreants. They are too. cunning to believe that 
 a woman of the ‘ pale-faces ’ is 1 to be found so far 
 from the settlements, without having a white man’s 
 inventions and comforts at hand.” 
 
 “If they will carry the tribe of wandering 
 Ishmael to the Rocky Mountains,” said the young 
 bee-hunter, laughing in his vexation with a sort 
 of bitter merriment, “ I may forgive the rascals.” 
 
 “Paul! Paul !” exclaimed his companion in 
 a tone of reproach, “ you ! forget all ! Think of 
 the dreadful coiiSequences ! ” 
 
 “Ay, it was thinking of what you call conse- 
 quences, Ellen, that prevented me from putting 
 the matter, at once, to yonder red-devil, and mak- 
 ing it a real knock-down and drag-out !— Old 1 
 trapper, the sin of this cowardly business lies on 
 your shoulders ! But it is no more than your 
 daily calling, I reckon, to take men, as well as 
 beasts, in snares.” 
 
 “ I implore you, Paul, to be calm— to be pa- 
 tient.” 
 
 “Well, since it is your wish, Ellen,” returned 
 the youth, endeavoring to swallow his spleen, “I 
 will make the trial ; though, as you ought to 
 know, it is part of the religion of a Kentuckian 
 to fret himself a little at a mischance.” 
 
 “ I fear your friends in the other bottom will 
 not escape the eyes of the imps ! ” continued the 
 trapper, as coolly as though he had not heard a 
 syllable of the intervening discourse. “ They 
 scent plunder ; and it would be as hard to drive a 
 hound from his game, as to throw the varmints 
 from its trail.” 
 
 “ Is there nothing to be done ?” asked Ellen, 
 in an imploring manner, which proved the sinceri- 
 ty of her concern. 
 
 “ It would be an easy matter to call out in so 
 loud a voice as to make old Ishmael dream that 
 the wolves were among his flock,” Paul replied; 
 “I can make myself heard a mile in these open 
 fields, and his camp is but a short quarter from 
 us.” 
 
 “ And get knocked on the head for your 
 pains,” returned the trapper. M No, no ; cunning 
 must match cunning, or the hounds will murder 
 the whole family,” 
 
AMONG THE INDIANS. 
 
 21 
 
 “Murder! no — no murder. Ishtuael loves 
 travel so well, there would be no harm in his hav- 
 ing a look at the other sell, but the old fellow is 
 in a bad condition to take the long journey ! I 
 would try a lock myself before he should be quite 
 murdered.” 
 
 “ His party is strong in number, and well 
 armed ; do you think it will fight ? ” 
 
 “ Look here, old trapper ; few men love Ish- 
 mael Bush and his seven sledge-hammer sons less 
 than one Paul Hover ; but I scorn to slander even 
 a Tennessee shot-gun. There is as much of the. 
 true stand-up courage among them as there i9 in 
 any family that was ever raised, in Kentuck itself. 
 They are a long-sided and a double-jointed breed ; 
 and let me tell you, that he who takes the measure 
 Of one of them on the ground, must be a workman 
 at a hug.” 
 
 “Hist! The savages have done their talk, 
 and are about to set their accursed devices in mo- 
 tion. Let us be patient ; something may yet offer 
 in favor of your friends.” 
 
 “Friends! call none of the race a friend of 
 mine, trapper, if you have the smallest regard for 
 my affection ! What I say in their favor is less 
 from love than honesty.” 
 
 “ I did not know but the young woman was of 
 the kin,” returned the other, a little dryly — “ but 
 no offence should be taken where none was in- 
 tended.” 
 
 The mouth of Paul was again stopped by the 
 hand of Ellen, who took upon herself to reply, in 
 her conciliating tones : “ We should be all of a 
 
 family, when it is in our power to serve each other. 
 We depend entirely on your experience, honest 
 old man, to discover the means to apprise our 
 friends of their danger.” 
 
 “ There will be a real time of it,” muttered the 
 bee-hunter, laughing, “ if the boys get at work, 
 in good earnest, with these red-skins !” 
 
 He was interrupted by a general movement 
 which took place among the band. The Indians 
 dismounted to a man, giving their horses in charge 
 to three or four of the party, who were also in- 
 trusted with the safe keeping of the prisoners. 
 They then formed themselves in a circle around a 
 warrior who appeared to possess the chief authori- 
 ty ; and at a given signal the whole array moved 
 slowly and cautiously from the centre in straight 
 and consequently in diverging lines. Most of 
 their dark forms were soon blended with the 
 brown covering of the prairie; though the cap- 
 tives, who watched the slightest movement of 
 their enemies with vigilant eyes, were now and 
 then enabled to discern a human figure drawn 
 against the horizon, as some one, more eager than 
 
 the rest, rose to his greatest height in order to 
 extend the limits of his view. But it was not 
 long before even these fugitive glimpses of the 
 moving and constantly-in creasing circle were lost, 
 and uncertainty and conjecture were added to 
 apprehension. In this manner passed many anx- 
 ious and weary minutes, during the close of which 
 the listeners expected at each moment to hear 
 the whoop of the assailants and the shrieks of the 
 assailed, rising together on the stillness of the 
 night. But it would seem that the search, which 
 was so evidently making, was without a sufficient 
 object ; for at the expiration of half an hour the 
 different individuals of the band began to return 
 singly, gloomy and sullen, like men who were dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 “ Our time is at hand,” observed the trapper, 
 who noted the smallest incident, or the slightest 
 indication of hostility among the savages ; “ we 
 are now to be questioned; and, if I know any 
 thing of the policy of our case, I should say it 
 would be wise to choose one among us to hold 
 the discourse, in order that our testimony may 
 agree. And, furthermore, if an opinion from one 
 as old and as worthless as a hunter of fourscore 
 is to be regarded, I would just venture to say, 
 that man should be the one most skilled in the 
 natur’ of an Indian, and that he should also know 
 something of their language. Are you acquainted 
 with the tongue of the Siouxes* friend ? ” 
 
 “ Swarm your own hive,” returned the discon- 
 tented bee-hunter. “You are good at buzzing, 
 old trapper, if you are good at nothing Use.” 
 
 “ ’Tis the gift of youth to be rash and heady,” 
 the trapper calmly retorted. “ The day has been, 
 boy, when my blood was like your own, too swift 
 and too hot to run quietly in my veins. But 
 what will it profit to talk of silly risks and foolish 
 acts at this time of life? A gray head should 
 cover a brain of reason, and not the tongue of 
 a boaster.” 
 
 “ True, true,”, whispered Ellen ; “ and we 
 have other things to attend to now ! Here comes 
 the Indian to put his questions.”, 
 
 The girl, whose apprehensions had quickened 
 her senses, was not deceived. She was yet speak- 
 ing when a tall, half-naked savage approached the 
 spot where they stood, and, after . examining the 
 whole party as closely as the dim light permitted, 
 for more than a minute in perfect stillness, he 
 gave the. usual salutation in the harsh and gut- 
 tural tones of his own language. The trapper re- 
 plied as well as he could, which it seems was 
 sufficiently well to be understood. In order to 
 escape the imputation of pedantry, we shall render 
 the substance, and, so far as it is possible, the 
 
22 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 form of the dialogue that succeeded, into the 
 English tongue. 
 
 “ Have the pale-faces eaten their own buffa- 
 loes, and taken the skins from all their own bea- 
 vers,” continued the savage, allowing the usual 
 moment of decorum to elapse, after the words of 
 greeting, before he again spoke, “ that they come 
 to count how many are left among the Pawnees ? ” 
 
 “ Some of us are here to buy, and some to 
 sell,” returned the trapper ; “but none will follow, 
 if they hear it is not safe to come nigh the lodge 
 of a Sioux.” 
 
 “ The Siouxes are thieves, and they live among 
 the snow ; why do we talk of a people who are so 
 far, when we are in the country of the Pawnees ? ” 
 
 “ If the Pawnees are the owners of this land, 
 then white and red are here by equal right.” 
 
 “ Have not the pale-faces stolen enough from 
 the red men, that you come so far to carry a lie ? 
 I have said that this is a hunting-ground of my 
 tribe.” 
 
 “ My right to be here is equal to your own,” 
 the trapper rejoined, with undisturbed coolness ; 
 “ I do not speak as I might — it is better to be 
 silent. The Pawnees and the white men are 
 brothers, but a Sioux dare not show his face in 
 the village of the Loups.” 
 
 “The Dahcotahs are men !’’ exclaimed the 
 savage, fiercely ; forgetting in his anger to main- 
 tain the character he had assumed, and using the 
 appellation of which his nation was most proud ; 
 “ the Dahcotahs have no fear ! Speak ; what 
 brings you so far from the villages of the pale- 
 faces ? ” 
 
 “ I have seen the sun rise and set on many coun- 
 cils, and have heard the words of wise men. Let 
 your chiefs come, and my mouth shall not be shut.” 
 
 “ I am a great chief! ” said the savage, affect- 
 ing an air of offended dignity. “ Do you take me 
 for an Assiniboine ? Weucha is a warrior often 
 named, and much believed ! ” 
 
 “Am I a fool not to know a burnt-wood 
 Teton?” demanded the trapper, with a steadiness 
 that did great credit to his nerves. “ Go ; it is 
 dark, and you do not see that my head is gray ! ” 
 
 The Indian now appeared convinced that he 
 had adopted too shallow an artifice to deceive one 
 so practised as the man he addressed, and he 
 was deliberating what fiction he should next 
 invent, in order to obtain his real object, when a 
 slight commotion among the band put an end at 
 dnee to all his schemes. Casting his eyes behind 
 him, as if fearful of a speedy interruption, he said, 
 In tones much less pretending than those he had 
 first resorted to : 
 
 “ Give Weucha the milk of the Long- knives, 
 
 and he will sing your name in the ears of the 
 great men of his tribe.” 
 
 “Go,” repeated tHb trapper, motioning him 
 away, with strong disgust. “ Your young men 
 are speaking of Mahtoree. My words are for the 
 ears of a chief.” 
 
 The savage cast a look on the other, which, 
 notwithstanding the dim light, was sufficiently in- 
 dicative of implacable hostility. He then stole 
 away among his fellows, anxious to conceal the 
 counterfeit he had attempted to practise, no less 
 than the treachery he had contemplated against a 
 fair division of the spoils, from the man named 
 by the trapper, whom he now also knew to be 
 approaching, by the manner in which his name 
 passed from one to another, in the band. He had 
 hardly disappeared before a warrior of powerful 
 frame advanced out of the dark circle, and placed 
 himself before the captives, with that high and 
 proud bearing for which a distinguished Indian 
 chief is ever so remarkable. He was followed by 
 all the party, who arranged themselves around 
 his person, in a deep and respeotful silence. 
 
 “ The earth is very large,” the chief com- 
 menced, after a pause of that true dignity which 
 his counterfeit had so miserably affected ; “ why 
 can the children of my great white father never 
 find room on it ? ” 
 
 “Some among them have heard that their 
 friends in the prairies are in want of many 
 things,” returned the trapper; “and they have 
 come to see if it be true. Some want, in their 
 turns, what the red men are willing to sell, and 
 they come to make their friends rich with powder 
 and blankets.” 
 
 “Do traders cross the big river with empty 
 hands ? ” 
 
 “ Our hands are empty because your young 
 men thought we were tired, and they have light- 
 ened us of our load. They were mistaken ; I am 
 old, but I am still strong.” 
 
 “ It cannot be. Your load has fallen in the 
 prairies. Show my young men the place, that 
 they may pick it up before the Pawnees find it.” 
 
 “ The path to the spot is crooked, and it is 
 night. The hour is come for sleep,” said the 
 trapper, with perfect composure. “Bid your 
 warriors go over yonder hill ; there is water and 
 there is wood ; let them light their fires and sleep 
 with warm feet. When the sun comes again I 
 will speak to you.” 
 
 A low murmur, but one that was clearly 
 indicative of dissatisfaction, passed among the 
 attentive listeners, and served to inform the old 
 man that he had not been sufficiently wary in 
 proposing a measure that he intended should no- 
 
MAHTOREE, THE DAHCOTAH CHIEF. 
 
 23 
 
 i'y the travellers in the brake of the presence of 
 iheir dangerous neighbors. Mahtoree, however, 
 without betraying in the slightest degree the ex- 
 citement which was so strongly exhibited by his 
 companions, continued the disoourse in the same 
 lofty manner as before. 
 
 “ I know that my friend is rich,” he said ; 
 “ that he has many Warriors not far off, and that 
 horses are plentier with him than dogs among the 
 red-skins.?’ 
 
 “ You see my warriors and my horses.” 
 
 “ What ! has the woman the feet of a Dah- 
 cotah,, that she can walk for thirty nights in the 
 prairies, and not fall ? I know the red men of 
 the woods make long marches on foot, but we, 
 who live where the eye cannot see from one lodge 
 to another, love our horses.” 
 
 The trapper now hesitated, in his turn. He 
 was perfectly aware that deception, if detected, 
 might prove dangerous ; and, for one of his pur- 
 suits and character, he was strongly troubled with 
 an unaccommodating regard for the truth. But 
 recollecting that he controlled the fate of others 
 as well as of himself, he determined to let things 
 take their course, and to permit the Dahcotah 
 chief to deceive himself, if he would. 
 
 “ The women of the Siouxes and of the white 
 men are not of the same wigwam,” he answered, 
 evasively. “ Would a Teton warrior make his 
 wife greater than himself? I know he would 
 not; and yet my ears have heard that there are 
 lands where the councils are held by squaws.” 
 
 Another slight movement in the dark circle 
 apprised the trapper that his declaration was not 
 received without surprise, if entirely without dis- 
 trust. The chief alone seemed unmoved; nor 
 was he disposed to relax from the loftiness and 
 high dignity of his air. 
 
 “ My white fathers who live on the great lakes 
 have declared,” he said, “that their brothers 
 toward the rising sun are not men ; and now I 
 know they did not lie! Go! — what is a nation 
 whose chief is a squaw ? Are you the dog and 
 not the husband of this woman ? ”• 
 
 “ I am neither. Never did I see her face be- 
 fore this day. She came into the prairies because 
 they had told her a great and generous nation 
 called the Dahcotahs lived there, and she wished 
 to look on men. The women of the pale-faces, 
 like the women of the Siouxes, open their eyes to 
 see things that are new ; but she is poor, like my- 
 self, and 6he will want com and buffaloes, if you 
 take away the little that she and her friend still 
 have.” 
 
 “My ears listen to many wicked lies!” ex- 
 claimed the Teton w T arrior, in a voice so stem 
 
 that it startled even his red auditors. “ Am I a 
 woman ? Has not a Dahcotah eyes ? Tell me, 
 white hunter ; who are the men of your color that 
 sleep near the fallen trees ? ” 
 
 As he spoke, the indignant chief pointed m 
 the direction of Ishmael’s encampment, leaving 
 the trapper no reason to doubt that the superior 
 industry and sagacity of this man had effected a 
 discovery which had eluded the search of the rest 
 of his party. Notwithstanding his regret at an 
 event that might prove fatal to the sleepers, and 
 some little vexation at having been so completely 
 outwitted in the dialogue just related, the old man 
 continued to maintain his air of inflexible com- 
 posure. 
 
 “It may be true,” he answered, “ that white 
 men are sleeping in the prairie. If my brother 
 says it, it is true ; but what men thus trust to the 
 generosity of the Tetons, I cannot tell. If there 
 be strangers asleep, send your young men to wake 
 them up, and let them say why they are here ; 
 every pale-face has a tongue.” 
 
 The chief shook his head with a wild and 
 fierce smile, answering abruptly, as he turned 
 away to put an end to the conference : 
 
 “ The Dahcotahs are a wise race, and Mah- 
 toree is their chief! He will not call to the 
 strangers, that they may rise and speak to him 
 with their carabines. He will whisper softly in 
 their ears. When this is done, let the men of 
 their own color come and awake them ! ” 
 
 As he uttered these words* and turned on his 
 heel, a low and approving laugh passed around 
 the dark circle, which instantly broke its order, 
 and followed him to a little distance from the 
 stand of the captives, where those who might 
 presume to mingle opinions with so great a war- 
 rior again gathered about him in consultation. 
 Weucha profited by this occasion to renew his 
 importunities ; but the trapper, who had discov- 
 ered how great a counterfeit he was, shook him 
 off in displeasure. An end was, however, more 
 effectually put to the annoyance of this malignant 
 savage, by a mandate for the whole party, includ- 
 ing men and beasts, to change their positions. 
 The movement was made in dead silence, and 
 with an order that would have done credit to 
 more enlightened beings. A halt, however, was 
 soon made ; and when the captives had time to 
 look about them, they found they were in view 
 of the low, dark outline of the copse near which 
 lay the slumbering party of Ishmael. 
 
 Here another short but grave and deliberative 
 consultation was held. 
 
 The beasts, which seemed trained to sucn 
 covert and silent attacks, were once more placed 
 
24 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 under the care of keepers, who, as before, were 
 chai'gea with the duty of watching the prisoners. 
 The mind of the trapper was in no degree relieved 
 from the uneasiness which was at each instant 
 getting a stronger possession of him, when he 
 found Weucha was placed nearest to his own per- 
 son, and, as it appeared by the air of triumph and 
 authority he assumed, at the head of the guard 
 also. The savage, however, who doubtless had 
 his secret instructions, was content, for the pres- 
 ent, with making a significant gesture with his 
 tomahawk, which menaced death to Ellen. After 
 admonishing in this expressive manner his male 
 captives of the fate that would instantly attend 
 their female companion on the slightest alarm 
 proceeding from any of the party, he was content 
 to maintain a rigid silence. This unexpected for- 
 bearance on the part of Weucha enabled the 
 trapper and his two associates to give their 
 undivided attention to the little that might be 
 seen of the interesting movements which were 
 passing in their front. 
 
 Mahtoree took the entire disposition of the 
 arrangements on himself. He pointed out the 
 precise situation he wished each individual to oc- 
 cupy, like one intimately, acquainted with the 
 qualifications of his respective followers, and he 
 was obeyed with the deference and promptitude 
 with which an Indian warrior is wont to submit 
 to the instructions of his chief in moments of trial. 
 Some he dispatched to the right, and others to 
 the left. Each man departed with the noiseless 
 and quick step peculiar to the race, until all had : 
 assumed their allotted stations, with the excep- 
 tion of two chosen warriors, who remained nigh 
 the person of their leader. When the rest had 
 disappeared, Mahtoree turned to these select com- 
 panions, and intimated by a sign that the critical 
 moment had arrived when the enterprise he con- 
 templated was to be put in execution. 
 
 Each man laid aside the light fowling-piece 
 which, under the name -of a carabine, he carried 
 in virtue of his rank ; and, divesting himself of 
 every article of exterior or heavy clothing, he 
 stood resembling a dark and fieree-looking statue, 
 in the attitude, and nearly in the garb, of nature. 
 Mahtoree assured himself of the right position of 
 his tomahawk, felt that his knife was secure in its 
 sheath of skin, tightened his girdle of wampum, 
 and saw that the lacing of his fringed and orna- 
 mented leggings was secure, and likely to offer no 
 impediment to his exertions. Thus prepared at 
 all points, and ready for his desperate undertak- 
 ing, the Teton gave the signal to proceed. 
 
 The three advanced in a line with the encamp- 
 ment of the travellers, until, in the dim light by 
 
 which they were seen, their dusky forms weie 
 nearly lost to the eyes of the prisoners. Here 
 they paused, looking around them like men who 
 deliberate and ponder long on the consequences 
 before they take a desperate leap. Then, sinking 
 together, they became lost in the grass of the 
 prairie. 
 
 It is not difficult to imagine the distress and 
 anxiety of the different spectators of these threat, 
 ening movements. Whatever might be the rea- 
 sons of Ellen for entertaining so strong attach- 
 ment to the family in which she has first been 
 seen by the reader, the feelings of her sex, and, 
 perhaps, some lingering seeds of kindness, pre- 
 dominated. More than once she felt tempted to 
 brave the awful and instant danger that awaited 
 such an offence, and to raise her feeble, and, in 
 truth, impotent voice in warning. So strong, in- 
 deed, and so very natural was the inclination, 
 that she would most probably have put it into 
 execution, but for the often-repeated though 
 whispered remonstrances of Paul Hover. In the 
 breast of the young bee-hunter himself there was 
 a singular union of emotions. His first and chief- 
 est solicitude was certainly in behalf of his gentle 
 and dependent companion ; but the sense of her 
 danger was mingled, in the breast of the reckless 
 woodsman, with’ a consciousness of a high and 
 wild, and by no means an unpleasant, excitement. 
 Though united to the emigrants by ties still less 
 binding than those of Ellen, he longed to hear 
 the crack of their rifles, and, had occasion offered, 
 he would gladly have been among the first to rush 
 to their rescue. There were, in truth, moments 
 when he felt in his turn an impulse that was nearly 
 resistless, to spring forward and awake the un- 
 conscious sleepers ; but a glance at Ellen would 
 serve to recall his tottering prudence, and to ad- 
 monish him of the consequences. The trapper 
 alone remained calm and observant, as if nothing 
 that involved his personal comfort or safety had 
 occurred* His ever-moving, vigilant eyes watched 
 the smallest change, with the composure of one 
 too long inured to scenes of danger to be easily 
 moved, and with an expression of cool determina- 
 tion which denoted the intention he actually har- 
 bored, of profiting by the smallest oversight on 
 the part of the captors. 
 
 In the mean time the Teton warriors had not 
 been idle. Profiting by the high fog which grew 
 in the bottoms, they had wormed their way 
 through the matted grass, like so many treacher- 
 ous serpents stealing on their prey, until the point 
 was gained where an extraordinary caution became 
 necessary to their further advance. Mahtoree 
 alone had occasionally elevated his dark, grim 
 
ISHMAEL S CAMP IN DANGER. 
 
 25 
 
 countenance above the herbage, straining his eye- 
 balls to penetrate the gloom which skirted the 
 border of the brake. In these momentary glances 
 he gained sufficient knowledge, added to that he 
 had obtained in his former search, to be the per- 
 fect master of the position of his intended victims, 
 though he was still profoundly ignorant of their 
 numbers and of their means of defence. 
 
 His efforts to possess himself of the requisite 
 knowledge concerning these two latter and essen- 
 tial points were, however, completely baffled by 
 the stillness of the camp, which lay in a quiet as 
 deep as if it were literally a place of the dead. 
 Too wary and distrustful to rely, in circumstances 
 of so much doubt, on the discretion of any less 
 firm and crafty than himself, the Dahcotah bade 
 his companions remain where they lay, and pur- 
 sued the adventure alone. 
 
 The progress of Mahtoree was now slow, and, 
 to one less accustomed to such a species of exer- 
 cise, it would have proved painfully laborious. 
 But the advance of the wily snake itself is not 
 more certain or noiseless than was his approach. 
 He drew his form, foot by foot, through the bend- 
 ing grass, pausing at each movement to catch the 
 smallest sound that might betray any knowledge, 
 on the part of the travellers, of his proximity. 
 He succeeded, at length, in dragging himself out 
 of the sickly light of the moon into the shadows 
 of the brake, where not only his own dark person 
 was much less liable to be seen, but where the 
 surrounding objects became more distinctly visi- 
 ble to his keen and active glances. 
 
 Here the Teton paused long and warily to 
 make his observations before he ventured further. 
 His position enabled him to bring the whole en- 
 campment, with its tent, wagons, and lodges, into 
 a dark but clearly-marked profile ; furnishing a 
 clew by which the practised warrior was led to a 
 tolerably accurate estimate of the force he was 
 about to encounter. Still an unnatural silence 
 pervaded the spot, as if men suppressed even the 
 quiet breathings of sleep, in order to render the 
 appearance of their confidence more evident. The 
 chief bent his head to the earth and listened in- 
 tently. He was about to raise it again, in disap- 
 pointment, -when the long-drawn and trembling 
 respiration of one who slumbered imperfectly met 
 his ear. The Indian was too well skilled in all 
 the means of deception to become himself the vic- 
 tim of any common artifice. He knew the sound 
 to be natural, by its peculiar quivering, and he 
 hesitated no longer. 
 
 A man of nerves less tried than those of the 
 fierce and conquering Mahtoree would have been 
 Keenly sensible of ah the hazard he incurred. 
 54 
 
 The reputation of those hardy and powerful white 
 adventurers who so often penetrated the wilds 
 inhabited by his people, was well known to him ; 
 but while he drew nigher, with the respect and 
 caution that a brave enemy never fails to inspire, 
 it was with the vindictive animosity of a red man, 
 jealous and resentful of the inroads of the stran- 
 ger. 
 
 Turning from the line of his former route, the 
 Teton dragged himself directly toward the margin 
 of the thicket. When this material object was 
 effected in safety, he arose to his seat, and took 
 a better survey of his situation. A single mo- 
 ment served to apprise him of the place where 
 the unsuspecting traveller lay. The reader will 
 readily anticipate that the savage had succeeded 
 in gaining a dangerous proximity to one of those 
 slothful sons of Ishmael who were deputed te 
 watch over the isolated encampment of the travel- 
 lers. 
 
 When certain that he was undiscovered, the 
 Dahcotah raised his person again, and, bending 
 forward, he moved his dark visage above the face 
 of the sleeper, in that sort of wanton and subtle 
 manner with which the reptile is seen to play 
 about its victim before it strikes. Satisfied at 
 length, not only of the condition but of the charac- 
 ter of the straDger, Mahtoree was in the act of 
 withdrawing his head when a slight movement of 
 the sleeper announced the symptoms of reviving 
 consciousness. The savage seized the knife which 
 hung at his girdle, and in an instant it was poised 
 above the breast of the young emigrant. Then 
 changing his purpose, with an action as rapid as 
 his own flashing thoughts, he sank back behind 
 the trunk of the fallen tree against which the 
 other reclined, and lay in its shadow, as dark, as 
 motionless, and apparently as insensible, as the 
 wood itself. 
 
 The slothful sentinel opened his heavy eyes, 
 and, gazing upward for a moment at the hazy 
 heavens, he made an extraordinary exertion, and 
 raised his powerful frame from the support of the 
 log. Then he looked about him, with an air of 
 something like watchfulness, suffering his dull 
 glances to run over the misty objects of the en- 
 campment until they finally settled on the distant 
 and dim field of the open prairie. Meeting with 
 nothing more attractive than the same faint out- 
 lines of swell and interval which everywhere rose 
 before his drowsy eyes, he changed his position 
 so as completely to turn his back on his danger- 
 ous neighbor, and suffered his person to sink 
 sluggishly down into its former recumbent at- 
 titude. A long, and, on the part of the Teton, an 
 anxious and painful silence succeeded, before the 
 
26 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 deep breathing of the traveller again announced 
 that he was indulging in his slumbers. The sav- 
 age was, however, far too jealous of a counterfeit 
 to trust to the first appearance of sleep. But the 
 fatigues of a day of unusual toil lay too heavy on 
 the sentinel to leave the other long in doubt. 
 Still the motion with which Mahtoree again raised 
 himself to his knees was so noiseless and guarded, 
 that even a vigilant observer might have hesitated 
 to believe he stirred. The change was, however, 
 at length effected, and the Dahcotah chief then 
 bent again over his snemy, without having pro- 
 duced a noise louder than that of the cotton -wood 
 leaf which fluttered at his side in the currents of 
 the passing air. 
 
 Mahtoree now felt himself master of the sleep- 
 er’s fate. At the same time that he scanned the 
 vast proportions and athletic limbs of the youth, 
 in that sort of admiration which physical excel- 
 lence seldom fails to excite in the breast of a sav- 
 age, he coolly prepared to extinguish the principle 
 of vitality which could alone render them for- 
 midable. After making himself sure of the seat 
 of life by gently removing the folds of the inter- 
 vening cloth, he raised his keen weapon, and was 
 about to unite his strength and skill in the 
 impending blow, when the young man threw his 
 brawny arm carelessly backward, exhibiting in 
 the action the vast volume of its muscles. 
 
 The sagacious and wary Teton paused. It 
 struck his acute faculties that sleep was less dan- 
 gerous to him, at that moment, than even death 
 itself might prove. The smallest noise, the agony 
 of struggling, with which such a frame would 
 probably relinquish its hold of life, suggested 
 themselves to his rapid thoughts, and were all 
 present to his experienced senses. He looked 
 back into the encampment, turned his head into 
 the thicket, and glanced his glowing eyes abroad 
 into the wild and silent prairies. Bending once 
 more over the respited victim, he assured him- 
 self that he was sleeping heavily, and then aban- 
 doned his immediate purpose in obedience alone 
 to the suggestions of a more crafty policy. 
 
 The retreat of Mahtoree was as still and 
 guarded as had been his approach. He now took 
 the direction of the encampment, stealing along 
 the margin of the brake, as a cover into which 
 he might easily plunge at the smallest alarm. 
 The drapery of the solitary hut attracted his 
 notice in passing. After examining the whole 
 of its exterior, and listening with painful intensity, 
 in order to gather counsel from his ears, the sav- 
 age ventured to raise the* cloth at the bottom, and 
 to thrust his dark visage beneath. It might 
 have been a minute before the Teton chief drew 
 
 back, and seated himself with the whole of hia 
 form without the linen tenement. Here he sat, 
 seemingly brooding over his discovery, for many 
 moments, in rigid inaction. Then he resumed 
 his crouching attitude, and once more projected 
 his visage beyond the covering of the tent. His 
 second visit to the interior was longer, and, if 
 possible, more ominous than the first. But it had, 
 like every thing else, its termination, and the sav- 
 age again withdrew his glaring eyes from the 
 secrets of the place. 
 
 Mahtoree had drawn his person many yards 
 from the spot, in his slow progress toward the 
 cluster of objects which pointed out the centre of 
 the position, before he again stopped. He made 
 another pause, and looked back at the solitary 
 little dwelling he had left, as if doubtful whether 
 he should not return. But the clievaux de f rise 
 of branches now lay within reach of his arm, and 
 the very appearance of precaution it presented, 
 as it announced the value of the effects it encircled, 
 tempted his cupidity, and induced him to proceed. 
 
 The passage of the savage, through the tender 
 and brittle limbs of the cotton-wood, could be 
 likened only to the sinuous and noiseless winding 
 of the reptiles which he imitated. When he had 
 effected his object, and had taken an instant to 
 become acquainted with the nature of the locali- 
 ties within the enclosure, the Teton used the pre- 
 caution to open a way through which he might 
 make a swift retreat. Then, raising himself on 
 his feet, he stalked through the encampment, like 
 the master of evil, seeking whom and what he 
 should first devote to his fell purposes. He had 
 already ascertained the contents of the lodge in 
 which were collected the woman and her young 
 children, and had passed several gigantic frames, 
 stretched on different piles of brush, which happily 
 for him lay in unconscious helplessness, when he 
 reached the spot occupied by Ishmael in per- 
 son. It could not escape the sagacity of one like 
 Mahtoree, that he had now within his power the- 
 principal man among the travellers. He stood 
 long hovering above the recumbent and Herculean 
 form of the emigrant, keenly debating in his own 
 mind the chances of his enterprise, and the most 
 effectual means of reaping its richest harvest. 
 
 He sheathed the knife, which, under the hasty 
 and burning impulse of his thoughts, he had 
 been tempted to draw, and was passing on, when 
 Ishmael turned in his lair, and demanded roughly 
 who was moving before his half-opened eyes. 
 Nothing short of the readiness and cunning of a 
 savage could have evaded the crisis. Imitating 
 the gruff tones and nearly unintelligible sounds he 
 heard, Mahtoree threw his body heavily cn the 
 
WEUCHA AND HIS CAPTIVES 
 
 2 1 
 
 »arth, and appeared to dispose himself to sleep. 
 Though the whole movement was seen by Ishmael, 
 in a sort of stupid observation, the artifice was 
 too bold and too admirably executed to fail. 
 The drowsy father closed his eyes, and slept heavi- 
 ly, with his treacherous inmate in the very bosom 
 of his family. 
 
 It was necessary for the Teton to maintain 
 the position he had taken for many long and 
 weary minutes, in order to make sure that he was 
 no longer watched. Though his body lay so mo- 
 tionless, his active mind was not idle. He prof- 
 ited by the delay to mature a plan which he in- 
 tended should put the whole encampment, includ- 
 ing both its effects and their proprietors, entirely 
 at his mercy. The instant he could do so with 
 safety, the indefatigable savage was again in mo- 
 tion. He took his way toward the slight pen 
 which contained the domestic animals, worming 
 himself along the ground in his former subtle and 
 guarded manner. 
 
 The first animal he encountered among the 
 beasts occasioned a long and hazardous delay. 
 The wary creature, perhaps conscious, through its 
 secret instinct, that in the endless wastes of the 
 prairies its surest protector was to be found in 
 man, was so exceedingly docile as quietly to sub- 
 mit to the close examination it was doomed to un- 
 dergo. The hand of the wandering Teton passed 
 over the downy coat, the meek countenance, and 
 the slender limbs of the gentle creature, with un- 
 tiring curiosity; but he finally abandoned the 
 prize, as useless in his predatory expeditions, and 
 offering too little temptation to the appetite. As 
 soon, however, as he found himself among the 
 beasts of burden, his gratification was extreme, 
 and it was with difficulty that he restrained the 
 customary ejaculations of pleasure that were more 
 than once on the point of bursting from his lips. 
 Here he lost sight of the hazards by which he 
 had gained access to his dangerous position ; and 
 the watchfulness of the wary and long-practised 
 warrior was momentarily forgotten in the exulta- 
 tion of the savage. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 “ Why, worthy father, what have we to lose ? 
 
 — The law 
 
 Protects us not. Then why should we he tender 
 To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us ! 
 
 Play judge and executioner.” Cymbeline. 
 
 While the Teton thus enacted his subtle and 
 characteristic part, not a sound broke the stillness 
 of the surrounding prairie. The whole band lay 
 
 at tl eir several posts, waiting, with the well-known 
 patience of the natives, for the signal which was 
 to summon them to action. To the eyes of the 
 anxious spectators who occupied the little emi- 
 nence, already described as the position of the cap- 
 tives, the scene presented the broad, solemn view 
 of a waste, dimly lighted by the glimmering rays 
 of a clouded moon. The place of the encamp- 
 ment was marked by a gloom deeper than that 
 which faintly shadowed out the courses of the 
 bottoms, and here and there a brighter streak 
 tinged the rolling summits of the ridges. As for 
 the rest, it was the deep, imposing quiet of a 
 desert. 
 
 But to those who so well knew how much was 
 brooding beneath this mantle of stillness and night, 
 it was a scene of high and wild excitement. Their 
 anxiety gradually increased, as minute after min- 
 ute passed away, and not the smallest sound of 
 life arose out of the calm and darkness which en- 
 veloped the brake. The breathing of Paul grew 
 louder and deeper, and more than once Ellen 
 trembled at she knew not what, as she felt the 
 quivering of his active frame, while she leaned de- 
 pendency on his arm for support. 
 
 The shallow honesty, as well as the besetting 
 infirmity of Weucha, had already been exhibited. 
 The reader, therefore, will not be surprised to 
 learn that he was the first to forget the regulations 
 he had himself imposed. It was at the precise 
 moment when we left Mahtoree yielding to his 
 nearly ungovernable delight, as he surveyed the 
 number and quality of Ishmael’s beasts of burden, 
 that the man he had selected to watch his cap- 
 tives chose to indulge in the malignant pleasure 
 of tormenting those it was his duty to protect. 
 Bending his head nigh the ear of the trapper, the 
 savage rather muttered than whispered : 
 
 “ If the Tetons lose their great chief by the 
 hands of the Long-knives,* old shall die as well 
 as young ! ” 
 
 “ Life is the gift of the Wahcondah,” was the 
 unmoved reply. “ The burnt-wood warrior must 
 submit to his laws, as well as his other children. 
 Men only die when He chooses ; and no Dahcotah 
 can change the hour.” 
 
 “Look!” returned the savage, thrusting the 
 blade of his knife before the face of his captive. 
 “Weucha is the Wahcondah of a dog.” 
 
 The old man raised his eyes to the fierce visage 
 of his keeper, and, for a moment, a gleam of hon- 
 est and powerful disgust shot from their deep 
 cells; but it instantly passed away, leaving in its 
 
 * The whites are so called by the Indians, from their 
 swords. 
 
23 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 place an expression of commiseration, if not of 
 sorrow. 
 
 “ Why should one made in the real image of 
 God suffer his natur’ to be provoked by a mere 
 effigy of reason ? ” he said in English, and in 
 tones much louder than those in which Weucha 
 had chosen to pitch the conversation. The latter 
 profited by the unintentional offence of his cap- 
 tive, and, seizing him by the thin, gray locks 
 that fell from beneath his cap, was on the point 
 of passing the blade of his knife in malignant tri- 
 umph around their roots, when a long, shrill yell 
 rent the air, and was instantly echoed from the 
 surrounding waste, as if a thousand demons 
 opened their throats in common at the summons. 
 Weucha relinquished his grasp, and uttered a cry 
 of exultation. 
 
 “ Now ! ” shouted Paul, unable to control his 
 impatience any longer, “ now, old Ishmael, is the 
 time to show the native blood of Kentucky ! Fire 
 low, boys — level into the swales, for the red-skins 
 are settling to the very earth ! ” 
 
 His voice was, however, lost, or rather un- 
 heeded, in the midst of the shrieks, shouts, and 
 yells that were, by this time, bursting from fifty 
 mouths on every side of him. The guards still 
 maintained their posts at the side of the captives, 
 but it was with that sort of difficulty with which 
 &teeds are restrained at the starting-post, when 
 expecting the signal to commence the trial of 
 speed. They tossed their arms wildly in the air, 
 leaping up and down more like exulting children 
 than sober men, and continued to utter the most 
 frantic cries. 
 
 In the midst of this tumultuous disorder a 
 rushing sound was heard, similar to that which 
 might be expected to precede the passage of a 
 flight of buffaloes, and then came the flocks and 
 cattle of Ishmael in one confused and frightened 
 drove. 
 
 “ They have robbed the squatter of his 
 beasts ! ” said the attentive trapper. “ The rep- 
 tiles have left him as hoofless as a beaver ! ” He 
 was yet speaking, when the whole body of the ter- 
 rified animals rose the little acclivity, and swept 
 by the place where he stood, followed by a band 
 of dusky and demon-like-looking figures, who 
 pressed madly on their rear. 
 
 The impulse was communicated to the Teton 
 horses, long accustomed to sympathize in the un- 
 tutored passions of their owners, and it was with 
 difficulty that the keepers were enabled to restrain 
 their impatience. At this moment, when all eyes 
 where directed to the passing whirlwind of men 
 and beasts, the trapper caught the knife from the 
 hands of his inattentive keeper, with a power that 
 
 his age would have seemed to contradict, and, at a 
 single blow, severed the thong of hide which con- 
 nected the whole of the drove. The wild animals 
 snorted with joy and terror, and, tearing the earth 
 with their heels, they dashed away into the broad 
 prairies, in a dozen different directions. 
 
 Weucha turned upon his assailant with the 
 ferocity and agility of a tiger. He felt for the 
 weapon of which he had been so suddenly de- 
 prived, fumbled with impotent haste for the handle 
 of his tomahawk, and at the same moment glanced 
 his eyes after the flying cattle, with the longings 
 of a Western Indian. The struggle between thirst 
 for vengeance and cupidity was severe but short. 
 The latter quickly predominated in the bosom 
 of one whose passions were proverbially grovel- 
 ling ; and scarcely a moment intervened between 
 the flight of the animals and the swift pursuit of 
 the guards. The trapper had continued calmly 
 facing his foe, during the instant of suspense that 
 succeeded his hardy act ; and now that Weucha 
 was seen following his companions, he pointed 
 after the dark train, saying, with his deep and 
 nearly inaudible laugh : 
 
 “ Red-natur’ is red-natur’, let it show itself on 
 a prairie or in a forest ! A knock on the head 
 would be the smallest reward to him who would 
 take such a liberty with a Christian sentinel ; but 
 there goes the Teton after his horses as if he 
 thought two legs as good as four in such a race ! 
 And yet the imps will have every hoof of them 
 afore the day sets in, because it’s reason ag’in 
 instinct. Poor reason, I allow ; but still there is 
 a great deal of the man in the Indian. Ah’s me ! 
 your Delawares were the red-skins of which 
 America might boast; but few and scattered is 
 that mighty people, now! Well! the traveller 
 may just make his pitch where he is ; he has 
 plenty of water, though Natur’ has cheated him 
 of the pleasure of stripping the ’arth of its lawful 
 trees. He has seen the last of his four-footed crea- 
 tures, or I am but little skilled in Sioux cunning.” 
 
 “ Had we not better join the party of Ishma- 
 el ?” said the bee-hunter. “ There will be a regu- 
 lar fight about this matter, or the old fellow has 
 suddenly grown chicken-hearted.” 
 
 “No — no — no!” hastily exclaimed Ellen. 
 
 She was stopped by the trapper, who laid hia 
 hand gently on her mouth, as he answered: 
 
 “ Hist ! — hist ! — the sound of voices might 
 bring us into danger. — Is your friend,” he add©*, 
 turning to Paul, “ a man of spirit enough ? ” 
 
 “ Don’t call the squatter a friend of mine ! ” 
 interrupted the youth. “I never yet harbored 
 with one who could not show hand and seal for 
 the land which fed him.” 
 
A TETON RAID. 
 
 29 
 
 Well — well. Let it then be acquaintance. 
 Is he a man to maintain his own, stoutly, by dint 
 ®f powder and lead ? ” 
 
 “ His own ! ay, and that which is not his own 
 too ! Can you tell me, old trapper, who held the 
 rifle that did the deed for the sheriff’s deputy, 
 that thought to rout the unlawful settlers who 
 had gathered nigh the Buffalo lick in old Ken- 
 tucky ? I had lined a beautiful swarm that very 
 day into the hollow of a dead beech, and there 
 lay the people’s officer at its roots, with a hole 
 directly through the ‘ grace of God ’ which he car- 
 ried in his jacket-pocket covering his heart, as if 
 he thought a bit of sheepskin was a breastplate 
 against a squatter’s bullet!— Now, Ellen, you 
 needn’t be troubled ; for it never strictly was 
 brought home to him ; and there were fifty others 
 who had pitched in that neighborhood with just 
 the same authority from the law.” 
 
 The poor girl shuddered, struggling powerfully 
 to suppress the sigh which arose in spite of her 
 efforts, as if from the very bottom of her heart. 
 
 Thoroughly satisfied that he understood the 
 character of the emigrants, by the short but 
 comprehensive description conveyed in Paul’s re- 
 ply, the old man raised no further question con- 
 cerning the readiness of Ishmael to revenge his 
 wrongs, but rather followed the train of thought 
 which was suggested to his experience by the 
 occasion: 
 
 “ Each one knows the ties which bind him to 
 his fellow-creatures best,” he answered. “ Though 
 it is greatly to be mourned that color, and prop- 
 erty, and tongue, and l’arning, should make so 
 wide a difference in those who, after all, are but 
 the children of one Father! Howsomever,” he 
 continued, by a transition not a little character- 
 istic of the pursuits and feelings of the man, “ as 
 this is a business in which there is much more 
 likelihood of a fight than need for a sermon, it is 
 best to be prepared for what may follow. — 
 Hush ! there is a movement below ; it is an equal 
 chance that we are seen.” 
 
 “ The family is stirring,” cried Ellen, with a 
 tremor that announced nearly as much terror at 
 the approach of her friends, as she had before 
 manifested at the presence of her enemies. “ Go 
 Paul, leave me. Fow, at least, must not be seen ! ” 
 
 “ If I leave you, Ellen, in this desert, before I 
 see you safe in the care of old Ishmael at least, 
 may I ne^er hear the hum of another bee, or, what 
 is worse, fail in sight to line him to his hive ! ” 
 
 “ You forget this good old man. He will not 
 teave me. Though I am sure, Paul, we have 
 parted before, where there has been more of a 
 desert than this.” 
 
 “ Never 1 These Indians may come whoeping 
 back, and then where are you ? Half-way to the 
 Rocky Mountains before a man can fairly strike 
 the line of your flight. — What think you, old 
 trapper? How long may it be before these 
 Tetons, as you call them, will be coming for the 
 rest of old Ishmael’s goods and chattels ? ” 
 
 “No fear of them,” returned the old man, 
 laughing in his own peculiar and silent manner ; 
 “ I warrant me the devils will be scampering after 
 their beasts these six hours yet ! — Listen ! you 
 may hear them in the willow-bottoms at this very 
 moment ; ay, your real Sioux cattle will run like 
 so many long-legged elks. Hist ! crouch again 
 into the grass, down with ye both ; as I’m a mis- 
 erable piece of clay, I heard the clicking of a gun- 
 lock ! ” 
 
 The trapper did not allow his companions 
 time to hesitate, but, dragging them both after 
 him, he nearly buried his own person in the fog 
 of the prairie, while he was speaking. It was for- 
 tunate that the senses of the aged hunter re- 
 mained so acute, and that he had lost none of his 
 readiness of action. The three were scarcely 
 bowed to the ground, when their ears were sa- 
 luted with the well known, sharp, short reports 
 of the Western rifle, and instantly the whizzing 
 of the ragged lead was heard, buzzing within dan- 
 gerous proximity of their heads. 
 
 “Well done, young chips! well done, old 
 block ! ” whispered Paul, whose spirits no danger 
 nor situation could entirely depress. “ As pretty 
 a volley as one would wish to hear on the wrong 
 end of a rifle ! What d’ye say, trapper ! here is 
 likely to be a three-cornered war. Shall I give 
 ’em as good as they send ? ” 
 
 “ Give them nothing but fair words,” returned 
 the other, hastily, “ or you are both lost.” 
 
 “ I’m not certain it would much mend the 
 matter, if I were to speak with my tongue instead 
 of the pieoe,” said Paul, in a tone half jocular, 
 half bitter. 
 
 “ For the sake of heaven, do not let them hear 
 you!” cried Ellen. “Go, Paul, go! you can 
 easily quit us now. ” 
 
 Several shots in quick succession, each send- 
 ing its dangerous messenger still nearer than the 
 preceding discharge, cut short her speech, no less 
 in prudence than in terror. 
 
 “This must end,” said the trapper, rising 
 with the dignity of one bent only on the impor- 
 tance of his object. “ I know not what need ye 
 may have, children, to fear those you should both 
 love and honor, but something must be done to 
 save vour lives. A few hours more or less can 
 never be missed from the time of one who has 
 
so 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 already numbered so many days ; therefore, I 
 will advance. Here is a clear space around you. 
 Profit by it as you need, and may God bless and 
 prosper each of you, as. ye deserve ! ” 
 
 Without waiting for any reply, the trapper 
 walked boldly down the declivity in his front, 
 taking the direction of the encampment, neither 
 quickening his pace in trepidation nor suffering 
 it to be retarded by fear. The light of the moon 
 fell brighter for a moment on his tall, gaunt form, 
 and served to warn the emigrants of his approach. 
 Indifferent, however, to this unfavorable circum- 
 stance, he held his way silently and steadily 
 toward the copse, until a threatening voice met 
 him with the challenge of — 
 
 “ Who comes — friend or foe ? ” 
 
 “Friend,” was the reply ; “ one who has lived 
 too long to disturb the close of life with quar- 
 rels.” 
 
 “ But not so long as to forget the tricks of his 
 youth,” said Ishmael, rearing his huge frame 
 from beneath the slight covering of a low bush, 
 and meeting the trapper face to face. “ Old man, 
 you have brought this tribe of red devils upon us, 
 and to-morrow you will be sharing the booty.” 
 
 “ What have you lost ? ” calmly demanded the 
 trapper. 
 
 “Eight as good mares as ever travelled in 
 gears, besides a foal that is worth thirty of the 
 brightest Mexicans that bear the face of the King 
 of Spain. Then the woman has not a cloven hoof 
 for her dairy or her loom, and I believe even the 
 grunters, foot-sore as they be, are ploughing the 
 prairie. And now, stranger,” he added, dropping 
 the butt of his rifle on the hard earth, with a vio- 
 lence and a clatter that would have intimidated 
 one less firm than the man he addressed, “ how 
 many of these creatures may fall to your lot ? ” 
 
 “ Horses have I never craved, nor even used ; 
 though few have journeyed over more of the wide 
 lands of America than myself, old and feeble as I 
 seem. But little use is there for a horse among 
 the hills and woods of York — that is, as York 
 was, but as I greatly fear York is no longer. — As 
 for woollen covering and cow’s-milk, I covet no 
 such womanly fashions ! The beasts of the field 
 give me food and raiment. No, I crave no cloth 
 better than the skin of a deer, nor any meat richer 
 than his flesh.” 
 
 The sincere manner of the trapper, as he ut- 
 tered this simple vindication, was not entirely 
 thrown away on the emigrant, whose dull nature 
 was gradually quickening into a flame that might 
 speedily have burst forth with dangerous violence. 
 He listened like one who doubted, though not en- 
 tirely convinced ; and he muttered between his 
 
 teeth the denunciation, with which a moment be- 
 fore he intended to precede the summary ven- 
 geance he had certainly meditated. 
 
 “ This is brave talking,” he at length grum- 
 bled ; “ but, to my judgment, too lawyer-like, for 
 a straightforward, fair-weather and foul-weather 
 hunter.” 
 
 “ I claim to be no better than a trapper,” the 
 other meekly answered. 
 
 “ Hunter or trapper— there is little difference. 
 I have come, old man, into these districts, because 
 I found the law sitting too tight upon me, and am 
 not over-fond of neighbors who can’t settle a dis- 
 pute without troubling a justice and twelve men ; 
 but I didn’t come to be robbed of my plunder, 
 and then to say thank’ee to the man who did 
 it!” 
 
 “ He who ventures far into the prairie must 
 abide by the ways of its owners.” 
 
 “ Owners ! ” echoed the squatter ! “ I am as 
 rightful an owner of the land I stand on as any 
 governor of the States ! Can you tell me, stran- 
 ger, where the law or the reason is to be found, 
 which says that one man shall have a section, or 
 a town, or perhaps a county to his use, and an- 
 other have to beg for earth to make his grave in ? 
 This is not nature, and I deny that it is law I 
 that is, your legal law.” 
 
 “ I cannot say that you are wrong,” returned 
 the trapper, whose opinions on this important 
 topic, though drawn from very different prem- 
 ises, were in singular accordance with those 
 of his companion, “ and I have often thought and 
 said as much, when and where I have believed 
 my voice could be heard. But your beasts are 
 stolen by them who claim to be masters of all 
 they find in the deserts.” 
 
 “They had better not dispute that matter 
 with a man who knows better,” said the other in 
 a portentous voice, though it seemed deep and 
 sluggish as he who spoke. “ I call myself a fair 
 trader, and one who gives to his chaps as good 
 as he receives. You saw the Indians ? ” 
 
 “ I did — they held me a prisoner, while they 
 stole into your camp.” 
 
 “ It would have been more like a white man 
 and a Christian to let me have known as much 
 in better season,” retorted Ishmael, casting another 
 ominous, sidelong glance at the trapper, as if still 
 meditating evil. “Iam not much given to call 
 every man I fall in with cousin, but color should be 
 something, when Christians meet in such a place 
 as this. But what is done, is done, and cannot 
 be mended by words. — Come out of your ambush, 
 boys ; here is no one but the old man : he has 
 eaten of my bread, and should be our friend, 
 
ISHMAEL BUSH AND THE TRAPPER. 
 
 31 
 
 though there is such good reason to suspect him 
 of harboring with our enemies.” 
 
 The trapper made no reply to the harsh suspi- 
 cion which the other did not scruple to utter with- 
 out the smallest delicacy, notwithstanding the ex- 
 planations and denials to which he had just lis- 
 tened. The summons of the unnurtured squatter 
 brought an immediate accession to their party. 
 Four or five of his sons made their appearance 
 from beneath as many covers, where they had been 
 posted, under the impression that the figures they 
 had seen, on the swell of the prairie, were a part 
 of the Sioux band. As each man approached, 
 and dropped his rifle into the hollow of his arm, 
 he cast an indolent but inquiring glance at the 
 stranger, though none of them expressed the least 
 curiosity to know whence he had come or why he 
 was there. This forbearance, however, proceeded 
 only in part from the sluggishness of their common 
 temper ; for long and frequent experience in scenes 
 of a similar character had taught them the virtue 
 of discretion. The trapper endured their sullen 
 scrutiny with the steadiness of one as practised 
 as themselves, and with the entire composure of 
 innocence. Content with the momentary exami- 
 nation he had made, the eldest of the group, who 
 was in truth the delinquent sentinel by whose 
 remissness the wily Mahtoree had so well profited, 
 turned toward his father, and said bluntly : 
 
 “If this man is all that is left of the party I 
 saw on the upland, yonder, we haven't altogether 
 thrown away our ammunition.” 
 
 “ Asa, you are right,” said the father, turning 
 suddenly on the trapper, a lost idea being recalled 
 by the hint of his son. — “ How is it, stranger ? 
 there were three of you, just now, or there is no 
 virtue in moonlight.” 
 
 “ If you had seen the Tetons racing across the 
 prairies, like so many black-looking evil ones, on 
 the heels of your cattle, my friend, it would have 
 been an easy matter to have fancied them a thou- 
 sand.” 
 
 “ Ay, for a town-bred boy or a skeary woman ; 
 though, for that matter, there is old Esther ; she 
 has no more fear of a red-skin than of a suckling 
 cub or of a wolf-pup. I’ll warrant ye, had your 
 thievish devils made their push by the light of the 
 sun, the good woman would have been smartly at 
 work among them, and the Siouxes would have 
 found she was not given to part with her cheese 
 and her butter without a price. But there’ll 
 come a time, stranger, right soon, when justice 
 will have its dues, and that, too, without the help 
 of what is called the law. We ar’ of a slow breed, 
 it may be said, and it is often said, of us ; but 
 slow is sure ; and there ar’ few men living who 
 
 can say they ever struck a blow, that they did not 
 get one as hard in return, from Ishmael Bush.” 
 
 “ Then has Ishmael Bush followed the instinct 
 of the beasts, rather than the principle which 
 ought to belong to his kind,” returned the stub- 
 born trapper. “ I have struck many a blow ray- 
 self, but never have I felt the same ease of mind 
 that of right belongs to a man who follows his 
 reason, after slaying even a fawn when there was 
 no call for his meat or hide, as 1 have felt at leav- 
 ing a Mingo unburied in the woods, when follow- 
 ing the trade of open and honest warfare.” 
 
 “ What ! you have been a soldier have you, 
 trapper ? I made a forage or two among the 
 Cherokees, when I was a lad, myself ; and I fol- 
 lowed Mad Anthony,* one season, through the 
 beeches ; but there was altogether too much tat- 
 tooing and regulating among his troops for me ; 
 so I left him, without calling on the paymasttr to 
 settle my arrearages. Though, as Esther after- 
 ward boasted, she had made such use of the pay- 
 ticket, that the States gained no great sum by the 
 oversight. You have heard of such a man as 
 Mad Anthony, if you tarried long among the 
 soldiers.” 
 
 “ I fou’t my last battle, as I hope, under his 
 orders,” returned the trapper, a gleam of sunshine 
 shooting from his dim eyes, as if the event was 
 recollected with pleasure, and then a sudden shade 
 of sorrow succeeding, as though he felt a secret 
 admonition against dwelling on the violent scenes 
 in which he had so often been an actor. “ I was 
 passing from the States on the sea-shore into these 
 far regions, when I crossed the trail of his army, 
 and I fell in, on his rear, just, as a looker-on ; but 
 when they got to blows, the crack of my rifle was 
 heard among the rest, though, to my shame it may 
 be said, I never knew the right of the quarrel, as 
 well as a man of threescore and ten should know 
 the reason of his acts afore he takes mortal life, 
 which is a gift he never can return ! ” 
 
 “ Come, stranger,” said the emigrant, his 
 rugged nature a good deal softened when he found 
 that they had fought on the same side in the wild 
 warfare of the West, “ it is of small account what 
 may be the groundwork of the disturbance, when 
 it’s a Christian ag’in a savage. We shall heai 
 more of this horse-stealing to-morrow ; to-night 
 we can do no wiser or safer thing than to sleep.” 
 
 * Anthony Wayne, a Pennsylvanian distinguished in the 
 war of the Eevolution, and subsequently against the Indians 
 of the West, for his daring as a general, by which he gained 
 from his followers the title of Mad Anthony. General 
 Wayne was the son of the person mentioned in the life of 
 West, as commanding the regiment which excited hi* 
 military ardor. 
 
82 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 So saying, Ishmael deliberately led the way 
 back toward his rifled encampment, and ushered 
 the man, whose life a few minutes before had been 
 in real jeopardy from his resentment, into the 
 presence of his family. Here, with a very few 
 words of explanation, mingled with scarce but 
 ominous denunciations against the plunderers, he 
 made his wife acquainted with the state of things 
 on the prairie, and announced his own determina- 
 tion to compensate himself for his broken rest, 
 by devoting the remainder of the night to sleep. 
 
 The trapper gave his ready assent to the meas- 
 ure, and adjusted his gaunt form on the pile of 
 brush that was offered him, with as much com- 
 posure as a sovereign could resign himself to 
 sleep, in the security of his capital, and surrounded 
 by his armed protectors. The old man did not 
 close his eyes, however, until he had assured him- 
 self that Ellen Wade was among the females of 
 the family, and that her relation, or lover, which- 
 ever he might be, had observed the caution of 
 keeping himself out of view ; after which he slept, 
 though with the peculiar watchfulness of one long 
 accustomed to vigilance, even in the hours of 
 deepest night. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 “ He is too picked, too spruce, too affected, too odd, 
 
 As it were too peregrinate, as I may call it.” 
 
 Shakespeabe. 
 
 The Anglo-American is apt to boast, and not 
 without reason, that his nation may claim a de- 
 scent more truly honorable than that of any other 
 people whose history is to be credited. What- 
 ever might have been the weaknesses of the origi- 
 nal colonists, their virtues have rarely been dis- 
 puted. If they were superstitious, they were 
 sincerely pious, and consequently honest. The 
 descendants of these simple and single-minded 
 provincials have been content to reject the ordinary 
 and artificial means by which honors have been per- 
 petuated in families, and have substituted a stand- 
 ard which brings the individual himself to the or- 
 deal of the public estimation, paying as little def- 
 erence as may be to those who have gone before 
 him. This forbearance, self-denial, or common- 
 sense, or by whatever term it may be thought 
 proper to distinguish the measure, has subjected 
 the nation to the imputation of having an ignoble 
 origin. Were it worth the inquiry, it would be 
 found that more than a just proportion of the 
 renowned names of the mother-country are, at 
 this hour, to be found in her ci-devant colonies ; 
 
 and it is a fact well known to the few who have 
 wasted sufficient time to become the masters of 
 so unimportant a subject, that the direct descend- 
 ants of many a failing line, which the policy of 
 England has seen fit to sustain by collateral sup- 
 porters, are now discharging the simple duties of 
 citizens in the bosom of this republic. The hive 
 has remained stationary, and they who flutter 
 around the venerable straw are wont to claim the 
 empty distinction of antiquity, regardless alike of 
 the frailty of their tenement and of the enjoy- 
 ments of the numerous and vigorous swarms tha\ 
 are culling the fresher sweets of a virgin world. 
 But, as this is a subject which belongs rather tt» 
 the politician and historian than to the humble 
 narrator of the home-bred incidents we are abou* 
 to reveal, we must confine our reflections to such 
 matters as have an immediate relation to the sub- 
 ject of the tale. 
 
 Although the citizen of the United States 
 may claim so just an ancestry, he is far from 
 being exempt from the penalties of his fallen race. 
 Like causes are well known to produce like effects. 
 That tribute, which it would seem nations must 
 ever pay, by way of a weary probation, around 
 the shrine of Ceres, before they can be indulged 
 in her fullest favors, is in some measure exacted, 
 in America, from the descendant instead of the 
 ancestor. The march of civilization with us has 
 a strong analogy to that of all coming events, 
 which are known to “ cast their shadows before.” 
 The gradations of society, from that state which 
 is called refined to that which approaches as near 
 barbarity as connection with an intelligent people 
 will readily allow, are to be traced from the 
 bosom of the States, where wealth, luxury, and 
 the arts, are beginning to seat themselves, to those 
 distant and ever-receding borders which mark 
 the skirts and announce the approach of the 
 nation, as moving mists precede the signs of the 
 day. 
 
 Here, and here only, is to be found that 
 widely-spread though far from numerous class 
 which may be at all likened to those who have 
 paved the way for the intellectual progress of 
 nations in the Old World. The resemblance be- 
 tween the American borderer and his European 
 prototype is singular, though not always uniform. 
 Both might be called without restraint — the one 
 being above, the other beyond the reach cf the 
 law — brave, because they were inured to danger 
 — proud, because they were independent — and 
 vindictive, because each was the avenger of his 
 own wrongs. It would be unjust to the borderer 
 to pursue the parallel much further. He is irre- 
 ligious, because he has inherited the knowledge 
 
ELLEN WADE’S DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 33 
 
 Chat religion does not exist in forms, and his rea- 
 son rejects mockery. He is not a knight, because 
 he has not the power to bestow distinctions ; and 
 he has not the power, because he is the offspring 
 and not the parent of a system. In what man- 
 ner these several qualities are exhibited, in some 
 of the most strongly marked of the latter class, 
 will be seen in the course of the ensuing narra- 
 tive. 
 
 Ishmael Bush had passed the whole of a life 
 of more than fifty years on the skirts of society. 
 He boasted that he had never dwelt where he 
 might not safely fell every tree he could view 
 from his own threshold ; that the iaw had rarely 
 been known to enter his clearing ; and that his 
 ears had never willingly admitted the sound of a 
 church-bell. His exertions seldom exceeded his 
 wants, which were peculiar to his class, and rarely 
 failed of being supplied. He had no respect for 
 any learning, except that of the leech ; because 
 h« was ignorant of the application of any other 
 intelligence than such as met the senses. His 
 deference to this particular branch of science had 
 induced him to listen to the application of a 
 medical man, whose thirst for natural history had 
 led him to the desire of profiting by the migratory 
 propensities of the squatter. This gentleman he 
 had cordially received into his family, or rather 
 under his protection, and they had journeyed 
 together thus far through the prairies, in perfect 
 harmony : Ishmael often felicitating his wife on 
 the possession of a companion, who would be 
 so serviceable in their new abode, wherever 
 it might chance to be, until the family were 
 thoroughly “acclimated.” The pursuits of the 
 naturalist frequently led him, however, for days 
 at a time, from the direct line of the route of the 
 squatter, who rarely seemed to have any other 
 guide than the sun. Most men would have 
 deemed themselves fortunate to have been absent 
 on the perilous occasion of the Sioux inroad, as 
 was Obed Bat (or, as he was fond of hearing him- 
 self called, Battius), M. D., and fellow of several 
 cisatlantic learned societies — the adventurous 
 gentleman in question. 
 
 Although the sluggish nature of Ishmael was 
 not actually awakened, it was sorely pricked by 
 the liberties which had just been taken with his 
 property. He slept, however, for it was the hour 
 he had allotted to that refreshment, and because 
 he knew how impotent any exertions to recover 
 his effects must prove in the darkness of midnight, 
 ne also knew the danger of his present position 
 too well to hazard what was left in pursuit of that 
 which was lost. Much as the inhabitants of the 
 prairie were known to love horses, their attach- 
 
 ment to many other articles, still in the pos- 
 session of the travellers, was equally well under- 
 stood. It was a common artifice to scatter the 
 herds, and to profit by the confusion. But 
 Mahtoree had, as it would seem, in this particu- 
 lar, undervalued the acuteness of the man he had 
 assailed. The phlegm with which the squatter 
 learned his loss, has already been seen ; and it now 
 remains to exhibit the results of his more matured 
 determinations. 
 
 Though the encampment contained many an 
 eye that was long unclosed, and many an ear 
 that listened greedily to catch the faintest evi- 
 dence of any new alarm, it lay in deep quiet dur- 
 ing the remainder of the night. Silence and fa- 
 tigue finally performed their accustomed offices, 
 and before morning all but the sentinels were 
 again buried in sleep. How well these indolent 
 watchers discharged their duties after the assault 
 has never been known, inasmuch as nothing 
 occurred to confirm or to disprove their subse- 
 quent vigilance. 
 
 Just as day, however, began to dawn, and a 
 gray light was falling from the heavens on the 
 dusky objects of the plain, the half-startled, 
 anxious, and yet blooming countenance of Ellen 
 Wade was reared above the confused mass of 
 children, among whom she had clustered on 
 her stolen return to camp. Arising warily, she 
 stepped lightly across the recumbent bodies, and 
 proceeded with the same caution to the utmost 
 limits of the defences of Ishmael. Here she lis- 
 tened, as if doubting the propriety of venturing 
 further. The pause was only momentary, how- 
 ever ; and long before the drowsy eyes of the sen- 
 tinel, who overlooked the spot where she stood, 
 had time to catch a glimpse of her active form, it 
 had glided along the bottom, and stood on the 
 summit of the nearest eminence. 
 
 Ellen now listened, intently anxious to catch 
 some other sound than the breathings of the 
 morning air, which faintly rustled the herbage at 
 her feet. She was about to turn in disappoint- 
 ment from the inquiry, when the tread of human 
 feet making their way through the matted grass 
 met her ear. Springing eagerly forward, she 
 soon beheld the outlines of a figure advancing up 
 the eminence, on the side opposite to the camp. 
 She had already uttered the name of Paul, and 
 was beginning to speak in the hurried and eager 
 voice with which female affection is apt to greet 
 a friend, when, drawing back, the disappointed 
 girl closed her salutation by coldly adding : 
 
 “ I did not expect, doctor, to meet you at this 
 unusual hour.” 
 
 “ All hours and all seasons are alike, my good 
 
54 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 Ellen, to the genuine lover of Nature ” — returned 
 a small, slightly-made, but exceedingly active 
 man, dressed in an odd mixture of cloth and 
 skins, a little past the middle age, and who 
 adranced directly to her side, with the familiarity 
 of an old acquaintance ; “ and he who does not 
 know how to find things to admire by this gray 
 light, is ignorant of . a large portion of the bless- 
 ings he enjoys.” 
 
 “Very true,” said Ellen, suddenly recollecting 
 the necessity of accounting for her own appear- 
 ance abroad at that unseasonable hour ; “ I know 
 many who think the earth has a pleasanter look 
 in the night than when seen by the brightest 
 sunshine.” 
 
 “Ah! Their organs of sight must be too 
 convex ! But the man who wishes to study the 
 active habits of the feline race, or the variety 
 albinos, must indeed be stirring at this hour. I 
 dare say there are men who prefer even looking 
 at objects by twilight, for the simple reason that 
 they see better at that time of the day.” 
 
 “ And is this the cause why you are so much 
 abroad in the night ? ” 
 
 “ I am' abroad at night, my good girl, because 
 the earth in its diurnal revolutions leaves the 
 light of the sun but half the time on any given 
 meridian, and because what I have to do cannot 
 be performed in twelve or fifteen consecutive 
 hours. Now have I been off two days from the 
 family, in search of a plant that is known to exist 
 on the tributaries of La Platte, without seeing 
 even a blade of grass that is not already enu- 
 merated and classed.” 
 
 “You have been unfortunate, doctor, but — ” 
 
 “ Unfortunate ! ” echoed the little man, sidling 
 nigher to his companion, and producing his tab- 
 lets with an air in which exultation struggled 
 strangely with an affectation of self-abasement. 
 “ No, no, Ellen, I am any thing but unfortunate ! 
 Unless, indeed, a man may be so called "whose 
 fortune is made, whose fame may be said to be 
 established forever, whose name will go down to 
 posterity with that of Buffon — Buffon! a mere 
 compiler; one who flourishes on the foundation 
 of other men’s labors. No ; pari passu with 
 Solander, who bought his knowledge with pain 
 and privations.” 
 
 “ Have you discovered a mine, Dr. Bat?” 
 
 “ More than a mine ; a treasure coined, and fit 
 for instant use, girl. — Listen ! I was making the 
 angle necessary to intersect the line of your uncle’s 
 march after my fruitless search, when I heard 
 sounds like the explosion produced by fire-arms — ” 
 
 “Yes,” exclaimed Ellen, eagerly, “we had 
 an alarm—” 
 
 “ And thought I was lost,” continued the man 
 of science, too much bent on his own ideas to 
 understand her interruption. “ Little danger of 
 that ! I made my own base, knew the length -- 
 the perpendicular by calculation, and to draw the 
 nypothenuse had nothing to do -but to work my 
 angle. I suppposed the guns were fired for my 
 benefit, and changed my course for the sounds 
 — not that I think the senses more accurate, or 
 even as accurate, as a mathematical calculation, 
 but I feared that some of the children might need 
 my services.” 
 
 “ They are all happily — ” 
 
 “Listen,” interrupted the other, already for- 
 getting his affected anxiety for his patients, in the 
 greater importance of the present subject. “ I 
 had crossed a large tract of prairie — for sound is 
 conveyed far where there is little obstruction — 
 when I heard the trampling of feet, as if bisons 
 were beating the earth. Then I caught a distant 
 view of a herd of quadrupeds, rushing up and 
 down the swells — animals which would have still 
 remained unknown and undescribed, had it not 
 been for a most felicitous accident ! One, and he 
 a noble specimen of the whole, was running a 
 little apart from the rest. The herd made an 
 inclination in my direction, in which the solitary 
 animal coincided, and this brought him within fifty 
 yards of the spot where I stood. I profited by 
 the opportunity, and, by the aid of steel and taper, 
 I wrote his description on the spot. I would have 
 given a thousand dollars, Ellen, for a single shot 
 from the rifle of one of the boys ! ” 
 
 “ You carry a pistol, doctor, why didn’t you 
 use it ? ” said the half-inattentive girl, anxiously 
 examining the prairie, but still lingering where 
 she stood, quite willing to be detained. 
 
 “Ay, but it carries nothing but the most 
 minute particles of lead, adapted to the destruc- 
 tion of the larger insects and reptiles. No, I did 
 better than to attempt waging a war in which I 
 could not be the victor. I recorded the event; 
 noting each particular with the precision neces- 
 sary to science. You shall hear, Ellen, for you 
 are a good and improving girl ; and by retaining 
 what you learn in this way may be yet of great ser- 
 vice to learning should any accident occur to me. 
 Indeed, my worthy Ellen, mine is a pursuit which 
 has its dangers as well as that of the warrior. 
 This very night,” he continued, glancing his eyes 
 behind him, “ this awful night, has the principle 
 of life itself been in great danger of extinction ! ” 
 
 “ By what ? ” 
 
 “ By the monster I have discovered. It ap- 
 proached me often, and, ever as I receded, it 
 continued to advance. I believe nothing but 
 
DR. BAT AND THE aSS. 
 
 35 
 
 the little lamp I carried was my protector. I 
 kept it between us while I wrote, making it serve 
 the double purpose of luminary and shield. But 
 you shall hear the character of the beast, and you 
 may then judge of the risks we promoters of 
 science run in behalf of mankind.” 
 
 The naturalist raised his tablets to the heavens, 
 and disposed himself to read as well as he could, 
 by the dim light they yet shed upon the plain, 
 premising with saying : 
 
 “ Listen, girl, and you shall hear with what a 
 treasure it has been my happy lot to enrich the 
 pages of natural history ! ” 
 
 “ Is it then a creature of your forming ? ” said 
 Ellen, turning away from her fruitless examina- 
 tion, with a sudden lighting of her sprightly blue 
 eyes, that showed she knew how to play with the 
 foible of her learned companion. 
 
 “ Is the power to give life to inanimate mat- 
 ter the gift of man? I would it were! You 
 should speedily see an Historia Naturalis Amei'i - 
 tana , that would put the sneering imitators of the 
 Frenchman, De Buffon, to shame! A great im- 
 provement might be made in the formation of all 
 quadrupeds ; especially those in which velocity is 
 a virtue. Two of the inferior limbs should be on 
 the principle of the lever ; wheels perhaps as they 
 are now formed; though I have not yet deter- 
 mined w'hether the improvement might better be 
 applied to the anterior or posterior members, 
 inasmuch as I am yet to learn whether dragging 
 or shoving requires the greatest muscular exertion. 
 A natural exudation of the animal might assist in 
 overcoming the friction, and a powerful momen- 
 tum be obtained. But all this is hopeless — at 
 least for the present ! ” — he added, raising his 
 tablets again to the light, and reading aloud : 
 “ October 6, 1805, that’s merely the date, which I 
 dare say you know better than I — mem. Quad- 
 ruped ; seen by starlight, and by the aid of a 
 pocket-lamp, in the prairies of North America — 
 see journal for latitude and meridian. Genus — 
 unknown ; therefore named after the discoverer, 
 and from the happy coincidence of having been 
 seen in the evening — Vesperlilio horribilis Ameri- 
 canus. Dimensions (by estimation) — Greatest 
 length , eleven feet ; height , six feet ; head, erect ; 
 nostrils , expansive ; eyes , expressive and fierce ; 
 teeth , serrated and abundant; tail, horizontal, 
 waving, and slightly feline ; feet , large and hairy ; 
 talons , long, curvated, dangerous ; ears , inconspicu- 
 ous ; horns , elongated, diverging, and formidable ; 
 color, plumbeous-ashy with fiery spots; voice, 
 sonorous, martial, and appalling; habits, grega- 
 rious, carnivorous, fierce, and fearless. There,” 
 exclaimed Obed, when he had ended this senten- 
 
 tious but comprehensive description, “ there is a* 
 animal, which will be likely to dispute with the 
 lion his title to be called the king of the beasts ! ” 
 
 “ I know not the meaning of all you have said, 
 Dr. Battius,” returned the quick-witted girl, who 
 understood the weakness of the philosopher, and 
 often indulged him with a title he loved so well 
 to hear ; “ but I shall think it dangerous to ven- 
 ture far from the camp, if such monsters are prowl- 
 ing over the prairies.” 
 
 “You may well call it prowling,” returned the 
 naturalist, nestling still closer to her side, and 
 dropping his voice to such low and undignified 
 tones of confidence, as conveyed a meaning still 
 more pointed than he had intended. “I have 
 never before experienced such a trial of the ner- 
 vous system; there was a moment, I acknowl- 
 edge, when the fortiter in re faltered before so 
 terrible an enemy ; but the love of natural science 
 bore me up and brought me off in triumph ! ” 
 
 “ You speak a language so different from what 
 we use in Tennessee,” said Ellen, struggling to 
 conceal her laughter, “ that I hardly know whether 
 I understand your meaning. If I am right, you 
 wish to say you were chicken-hearted.” 
 
 “ An absurd simile drawn from the ignorance 
 of the formation of the biped. The heart of a 
 chicken has a just proportion to its other organs, 
 and the domestic fowl is, in a state of nature, a 
 gallant bird. Ellen,” he added, with a counte- 
 nance solemn as to produce an impression on 
 the attentive girl, “ I was pursued, hunted, and in 
 a danger that I scorn to dwell on — what’s that ? ” 
 
 Ellen started ; for the earnestness and simple 
 sincerity of her companion’s manner had produced 
 a certain degree of credulity, even on her buoyant 
 mind, Looking in the direction indicated by the 
 doctor, she beheld, in fact, a beast coursing over 
 the prairie, and making a straight and rapid ap- 
 proach to the spot they occupied. The day was 
 not yet sufficiently advanced to enable her to 
 distinguish its form and character, though enough 
 was discernible to induce her to imagine it a 
 fierce and savage animal. 
 
 “ It comes ! it comes ! ” exclaimed the doc- 
 tor, fumbling, by a sort of instinct, for his tablets, 
 while he fairly tottered on his feet under the 
 powerful efforts he made to maintain his ground. 
 “Now, Ellen, has fortune given me an opportunity 
 to correct the errors made by starlight — hold — 
 ashy-plumbeous — no ears, — horns, excessive.” 
 His voice and hand were both arrested by a roar, 
 or rather a shriek, from the beast, that was 
 sufficiently terrific to appall even a stouter heart 
 than that of the naturalist. The cries of the 
 animal passed over the prairie in strange cadences, 
 
86 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 and then succeeded a deep and solemn silence, 
 that was only broken by an uncontrolled fit of 
 merriment from the more musical voice of Ellen 
 Wade. In the meantime the naturalist stood like 
 a statue of amazement, permitting a well-grown 
 ass, against whose approach he no longer offered 
 his boasted shield of light, to smell about his 
 person, without comment or hinderance. 
 
 “It is your own ass,” cried Ellen, the instant 
 she found breath for words ; “ your own patient 
 hard-working hack ! ” 
 
 The doctor rolled his eyes from the beast to 
 the speaker, and from the speaker to the beast ; 
 but gave no audible expression of his wonder. 
 
 “ Do you refuse to know an animal that has 
 labored so long in your service ? ” continued the 
 laughing girl. “ A beast, that I have heard you 
 say a thousand times, has served you well, and 
 whom you loved like a brother ! ” 
 
 “ Asinus domesticusf ” ejaculated the doctor, 
 drawing his breath like one who had been near 
 suffocation. “ There is no doubt of the genus ; 
 and I will always maintain that the animal is not 
 of the species Equus. This is undeniably Asinus 
 himself, Ellen Wade ; but this is not the Vesper- 
 tilio horribilis of the prairies ! Very different 
 animals I can assure you, young woman, and dif- 
 ferently characterized in every important partic- 
 ular. That, carnivorous,” he continued, glancing 
 his eye at the open page of his tablets ; “ this, 
 granivorous ; habits , fierce, dangerous ; habits , 
 patient, abstemious ; ears , inconspicuous ; ears , 
 elongated ; horns , diverging, etc. ; horns, none ! ” 
 
 He was interrupted by another burst of merri- 
 ment from Ellen, which served in some measure 
 to recall him to his recollection. 
 
 “ The image of the Vespertilio was on the 
 retina,” the astounded inquirer into the secrets 
 of Nature observed, in a manner that seemed a 
 little apologetic, “ and I was silly enough to mis- 
 take my own faithful beast for the monster. 
 Though even now I greatly marvel to see this ani- 
 mal running at large ! ” 
 
 Ellen then proceeded to explain the history of 
 the attack and its results. She described, with 
 an accuracy that might have raised suspicions of 
 her own movements in the mind of one less simple 
 than her auditor, the manner in which the beasts 
 burst out of the encampment, and the headlong 
 speed with which they had dispersed themselves 
 over the open plain. Although she forbore to 
 say as much in terms, she so managed as to pre- 
 sent before the eyes of her listener the strong 
 probability of having mistaken the frightened 
 drove for savage beasts, and then terminated her 
 account by a lamentation for their loss, and some 
 
 very natural remarks on the helpless condition in 
 which it had left the family. The naturalist lis- 
 tened in silent wonder, neither interrupting her 
 narrative, nor suffering a single exclamation of 
 surprise to escape him. The keen-eyed girl, how- 
 ever, saw that, as she proceeded, the important 
 leaf was torn from the tablets, in a manner which 
 showed that their owner had got rid of his delu- 
 sion at the same instant. From that moment the 
 world has heard no more of the Vespertilio hor - 
 ribilis Americanus , and the natural sciences have 
 irretrievably lost an important link in that great 
 animated chain which is said to connect earth and 
 heaven, and in which man is thought to be so famil- 
 iarly complicated with the monkey. 
 
 When Dr. Bat was put in full possession of 
 all the circumstances of the inroad, his concern 
 immediately took a different direction. He had 
 left sundry folios, and certain boxes well stored 
 with botanical specimens and defunct animals, 
 under the good keeping of Ishmael, and it imme- 
 diately struck his acute mind that marauders as 
 subtle as the Sioux would never neglect the op- 
 portunity to despoil him of these treasures. Noth- 
 ing that Ellen could say to the contrary served 
 to appease his apprehensions, and consequently 
 they separated — he to relieve his doubts and 
 fears together, and she to glide, as swiftly and si. 
 lently as she had just before passed it, into the 
 still and solitary tent. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 “ What ! fifty of my followers, at a clap 1 ” 
 
 King T-k*b- 
 
 The day had now fairly opened on the seem- 
 ingly interminable waste of the prairie. The en- 
 trance of Obed at such a moment into the camp, 
 accompanied as it was by vociferous lamentations 
 over his anticipated loss, did not fail to rouse the 
 drowsy family of the squatter. Ishmael and his 
 sons, together with the forbidding-looking brother 
 of his wife, were all speedily afoot ; and then, as 
 the sun began to shed his light on the place, they 
 became gradually apprised of the extent of their 
 loss. 
 
 Ishmael looked round upon the motionless and 
 heavily-loaded vehicles with his teeth firmly com- 
 pressed, cast a glance at the amazed and helpless 
 group of children, which clustered around their 
 sullen but desponding mother, and walked out 
 upon the open land, as if he found the air of the 
 encampment too confined. He was followed by 
 
TIIE TRAPPER’S REMEMBRANCES. 
 
 37 
 
 several of the men, who were attentive observers, 
 watching the dark expression of his eye as the 
 index of their own future movements. The whole 
 proceeded in profound and moody silence to the 
 summit of the nearest swell, whence they could 
 command an almost boundless view of the naked 
 plains. Here nothing was visible but a solitary 
 buffalo, that gleaned a meagre subsistence from 
 the decaying herbage, at no great distance, and 
 the ass of the physician, who profited by his free- 
 dom to enjoy a meal richer than common. 
 
 “ Yonder is one of the creatures left by the 
 villains to mock us,” said Ishmael, glancing his 
 eye toward the latter, “ and that the meanest of 
 the stock. This is a hard country to make a crop 
 in, boys ; and yet food must be found to fill many 
 hungry mouths ! ” 
 
 “ The rifle is better than the hoe in such a 
 place as this,” returned the eldest of his sons, 
 kicking the hard and thirsty soil on which he stood, 
 with an air of contempt. “ It is good for such 
 as they who make their dinner better on beggars’ 
 beans than hominy. A crow would shed tears if 
 obliged by its errand to fly across the district.” 
 
 “ What say you, trapper ? ” returned the fa- 
 ther, showing the slight impression his powerful 
 heel had made on the compact earth, and laugh- 
 ing with frightful ferocity. “ Is this the quality 
 of land a man would choose who never troubles 
 the county clerk with title-deeds ? ” 
 
 “ There is richer soil in the bottoms,” returned 
 the old man, calmly, “ and you have passed mill- 
 ions of acres to get to this dreary spot, where he 
 who loves to till the ’arth might have received 
 bushels in return for pints, and that too at the 
 cost of no very grievous labor. If you have come 
 in search of land, you have journeyed hundreds 
 of miles too far, or as many leagues too little. 
 
 “ There is then a better choice toward the 
 other ocean ? ” demanded the squatter, pointing 
 in the direction of the Pacific. 
 
 “ There is, and I have seen it all,” was the 
 answer of the other, who dropped his rifle to the 
 earth, and stood leaning on its barrel, like one 
 who recalled the scenes he had witnessed with 
 melancholy pleasure. “I have seen the waters 
 of the two seas ! On one of them I was born, 
 and raised to be a lad like yonder tumbling boy. 
 America has grown, my men, since the days of 
 my youth, to be a country larger than I once had 
 thought the world itself to be. Near seventy 
 years I dwelt in York, province and State togeth- 
 er. You’ve been in York, ’tis like ? ” 
 
 “Not I — not I; I never visited the towns; 
 but often have heard the place you speak of 
 named. ’Tis a wide clearing there, I reckon.” 
 
 “Too wide! too wide! They scourge the 
 very ’arth with their axes. Such hills and hunt- 
 ing-grounds as I have seen stripped of the gifts 
 of the Lord, without remorse or shame ! I tarried 
 till the mouths of ray hounds were deafened by 
 the blows of the chopper, and then I came West 
 in search of quiet. It was a grievous journey 
 that I made; a grievous toil to pass through fall- 
 ing timber, and to breathe the thick air of smoky 
 clearings, week after week, as I did ! ’Tis a far 
 country too, that State of York, from this! ” 
 
 “ It lies ag’in the outer edge of old Kentuck, 
 I reckon ; though what the distance may be I 
 never knew.” 
 
 “ A gull would have to fan a thousand miles 
 of air to find the Eastern sea. And yet it is no 
 mighty reach to hunt across, when shade and 
 game are plenty ! The time has been when I fol- 
 lowed the deer in the mountains of the Delaware 
 and Hudson, and took the beaver on the streams 
 of the upper lakes, in the same season : but my 
 eye was quick and certain at that day, and my 
 limbs were like the legs of a moose ! The dam 
 of Hector,” dropping his look kindly to the aged 
 hound that crouched at his feet, “ was then a pup, 
 and apt to open on the game the moment she 
 struck the scent. She gave me a deal of trouble, 
 that slut, she did ! ” 
 
 “ Your hound is old, stranger, and a rap on 
 the head would prove a mercy to the beast.” 
 
 “ The dog is like his master,” returned the 
 trapper, without appearing to heed the brutal ad- 
 vice the other gave, “ and will number his days 
 when his work among the game is over, and 
 not before. To my eye things seem ordered to 
 meet each other in this creation. ’Tis not the 
 swiftest-running deer that always throws off the 
 hounds, nor the biggest arm that holds the truest 
 rifle. — Look around you, men ; what will the 
 Yankee choppers say, when they have cut theii 
 path from the Eastern to the Western waters, and 
 find that a hand, which can lay the ’arth bare at 
 a blow, has been here and swept the country, in 
 very mockery of their wickedness ? They will 
 turn on their tracks like a fox that doubles, and 
 then the rank smell of their own footsteps will 
 show them the madness of their waste. How- 
 somever, these are thoughts that are more likely 
 to rise in him who has seen the folly of eighty 
 seasons, than to teach wisdom to men still bent 
 on the pleasures of their kind! You have need, 
 yet, of a stirring time, if you think to escape the 
 craft and hatred of the burnt-wood Indians. 
 They claim to be the lawful owners of this 
 country, and seldom leave a white more than 
 the skin he boasts of. when once they get the 
 
88 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 power, as they always have the will, to do him 
 harm.” 
 
 “ Old man,” said Ishmael, sternly, “ to which 
 people do you belong? You have the color and 
 speech of a Christian, while it seems that your 
 heart is with the red-skins.” 
 
 “To me there is little difference in nations. 
 The people I loved most are scattered as the sands 
 of the dry river-beds fly before the fall hurricanes, 
 and life is too short to make use and custom with 
 strangers as one can do with such as he has 
 dwelt among for years. Still am I a man with- 
 out the cross of Indian blood ; and what is due 
 from a warrior to his nation, is owing by me to 
 the people of the States ; though little need have 
 they, with their militia and their armed boats, of 
 help from a single arm of fourscore.” 
 
 “ Since you own your kin, I may ask a simple 
 question. Where are the Siouxes who have 
 stolen my cattle ? ” 
 
 “ Where is the herd of buffaloes, which was 
 chased by the panther across this plain, no 
 later than the morning of yesterday! It is as 
 hard — ” 
 
 “Friend,” said Dr. Battius, who had hitherto 
 been an attentive listener, but who now felt a 
 sudden impulse to mingle in the discourse, “ I am 
 grieved when I find a Venator or hunter of your 
 experience and observation, following the current 
 of vulgar error. The animal you describe is in 
 truth a species of the Bos ferus (or Bos sylvestris, 
 as he has been happily called by the poets) ; but, 
 though of close affinity, it is altogether distinct 
 from the common bubulus. Bisoti is the better 
 word ; and I would suggest the necessity of adopt- 
 ing it in future, when you shall have occasion to 
 allude to the species.” 
 
 “ Bison or buffalo, it makes but little matter. 
 The creature is the same, call it by what name 
 you will, and — ” 
 
 “ Pardon me, venerable Venator ; as classifica- 
 tion is the very soul of the natural sciences, the 
 animal or vegetable must of necessity be charac- 
 terized by the peculiarities of its species which is 
 always indicated by the name — ” 
 
 “ Friend,” said the trapper, a little positively, 
 “ would the tail of a beaver make the worse din- 
 ner for calling it a mink ; or could you eat of the 
 wolf with relish, because some bookish man had 
 given it the name of venison ? ” 
 
 As these questions were put with no little 
 earnestness and some spirit, there was every proba- 
 bility that a hot discussion would have succeeded 
 between two men, of whom one was so purely 
 practical and the other so much given to theory, 
 bad not Ishmael seen fit to terminate the dispute, 
 
 by bringing into view a subject that was mu 
 more important to his own immediate interests. 
 
 “Beavers’ tails and minks’ flesh may do to 
 talk about before a maple-fire and a quiet hearth,” 
 interrupted the squatter, without the smallest def- 
 erence to the interested feelings of the dispu- 
 tants ; “ but something more than foreign words, 
 or words of any sort, is now needed. — Tell me, 
 trapper, where are your Siouxes skulking ? ” 
 
 “ It would be as easy to tell you the colors of 
 the hawk that is floating beneath yonder white 
 cloud ! When a red-skin strikes his blow, he is 
 not apt to wait until he is paid for the evil deed 
 in lead.” 
 
 “ Will the beggarly savages believe they have 
 enough, when they find themselves masters of all 
 the stock ? ” 
 
 “Natur’ is much the same, let it be covered 
 by what skin it may. Do you ever find your long- 
 ings after riches less when you have made a good 
 crop, than before you were master of a kernel of 
 corn ? If you do, you differ from what the ex- 
 perience of a long life tells me is the common 
 cravings of man.” 
 
 “ Speak plainly, old stranger,” said the squat- 
 ter, striking the butt of his rifle heavily on the 
 earth, his dull capacity finding no pleasure in a 
 discourse that was conducted in so obscure allu- 
 sions ; I have asked a simple question, and one I 
 know well that you can answer.” 
 
 “ You are right, you are right. I can answer, 
 for I have too often seen the disposition of my 
 kind to mistake it, when evil is stirring. When 
 the Siouxes have gathered in the beasts, and have 
 made sure that you are not upon their heels, they 
 will be back nibbling like hungry wolves to take 
 the bait they have left ; or, it may be, they’ll show 
 the temper of the great bears that are found at 
 the falls of the Long River, and strike at once 
 with the paw, without stopping to nose their 
 prey.” 
 
 “You have then seen the animals you men- 
 tion ! ” exclaimed Dr. Battius, who had now been 
 thrown out of the conversation quite as long as 
 his impatience could well brook, and who ap- 
 proached the subject with his tablets ready 
 opened, as a book of reference. “ Can you tell 
 me if what you encountered was of the species 
 Ursu8 horribilis — with the ears rounded — -front, 
 arquated — eyes, destitute of the remarkable sup- 
 plemental lid — with six incisores, one false, and 
 four perfect molares — ” 
 
 “ Trapper, go on, for we are engaged in rea- 
 sonable discourse,” interrupted Ishmael. “You 
 believe we shall see more of the robbers ? ” 
 
 “ Nay — nay — I do not call them robbers, for 
 
ISHMAEL’S RESOLUTENESS. 
 
 39 
 
 It is the usage of their people, and what may be 
 called the prairie law.” 
 
 “ I have come five hundred miles to find a 
 place where no man can ding the words of the 
 law in my ears,” said Ishmael, fiercely, “ and I 
 am not in a humor to stand quietly at a bar, while 
 a red-skin sits in judgment. I tell you, trapper, 
 if another Sioux is seen prowling around my 
 camp, wherever it may be, he shall feel the con- 
 tents of old Kentuck,” slapping his rifle in a 
 manner that could not be easJy misconstrued, 
 “ though he wore the medal of Washington * him- 
 self. I call the man a robber who takes that 
 which is not his own.” 
 
 “ The Teton, and the Pawnee, and the Konza, 
 and men of a dozen other tribes, claim to own 
 these naked fields.” 
 
 “ Natur’ gives them the lie in their teeth. 
 The air, the water, and the ground, are free gifts 
 to man, and no one has the power to portion them 
 out in parcels. Man must drink, and breathe, 
 and walk — and therefore each has a right to his 
 share of ’arth. Why do not the surveyors of the 
 States set their compasses and run their lines 
 over our heads as well as beneath our feet ? Why 
 do they not cover their shining sheep-skins with 
 big words, giving to the landholder, or perhaps 
 he should be called airholder, so many rods of 
 heaven, with the use of such a star for a bound- 
 ary-mark, and such a cloud to turn a mill ? ” 
 
 As the squatter uttered his wild conceit, he 
 laughed from the very bottom of his chest, in 
 scorn. The deriding but frightful merriment 
 passed from the mouth of one of his ponderous 
 sons to that of the other, until it had made the 
 oircuit of the whole family. 
 
 “ Come, trapper,” continued Ishmael, in a 
 tone of better humor, like a man who feels that 
 he has triumphed, “ neither of us, I reckon, has 
 ever had much to do with title-deeds, or county 
 clerks, or blazed trees; therefore we will not 
 waste words on fooleries. You ar’ a man that 
 has tarried long in this clearing ; and now I ask 
 your opinion, face to face, without fear or favor, 
 if you had the lead in my business, what would 
 you do ? ” 
 
 The old man hesitated, and seemed to give the 
 required advice with deep reluctance. As every 
 eye, however, was fastened on him, and, whichever 
 way he turned his face, he encountered a look riv- 
 eted on the lineaments of his own working coun- 
 tenance, he answered in a low, melancholy tone : 
 
 * The American Government creates chiefs among the 
 Western tribes, and decorates them with silver medals 
 bearing the impression of the different Presidents. That 
 of Washington is the most prized. 
 
 “ I have seen too much mortal blood poured 
 out in empty quarrels, to wish even to hear an 
 angry rifle again. Ten weary years have I so- 
 journed alone on these naked plains, waiting for 
 my hour, and not a blow have I struck ag’in an 
 enemy more humanized than the grizzly bear.” 
 
 “ Ursus horribilis” muttered the doctor. 
 
 The speaker paused at the sound of the other’s 
 voice, but perceiving it was no more than a sort 
 of mental ejaculation, he continued in the same 
 strain : 
 
 “ More humanized than the grizzly bear, or 
 the panther of the Rocky Mountains; unless 
 the beaver, which is a wise and knowing animal, 
 may be so reckoned. What would I advise? 
 Even the female buffalo will fight for her 
 young 1 ” 
 
 “It never, then, shall be said that Ishmael 
 Bush has less kindness for his children than the 
 bear for her cubs ! ” 
 
 “ And yet this is but a naked spot for a dozen 
 men to make head in, ag’in five hundred.” 
 
 “ Ay, it is so,” returned the squatter, glancing 
 his eye toward his humble camp ; “ but something 
 might be done with the wagons and the cotton- 
 wood.” 
 
 The trapper shook his head incredulously, 
 and pointed across the rolling plain in the direc- 
 tion of the west, as he answered : 
 
 “ A rifle would send a bullet from these hills 
 into your very sleeping-cabins ; nay, arrows from 
 the thicket in your rear would keep you all bur- 
 rowed, like so many prairie-dogs ; it wouldn’t do, 
 it wouldn’t do. Three long miles from this spot 
 is a place where, as I have often thought in pass- 
 ing across the desert, a stand might be made for 
 days and weeks together, if there were hearts and 
 hands ready to engage in the bloody work.” 
 
 Another low, deriding laugh passed among the 
 young men, announcing, in a manner sufficiently 
 intelligible, their readiness to undertake a task 
 even more arduous. The squatter himself eagerly 
 seized the hint which had been so reluctantly 
 extorted from the trapper, -who, by some singular 
 process of reasoning, had evidently persuaded 
 himself that it was his duty to be strictly neutral. 
 A few direct and pertinent inquiries served to 
 obtain the little additional information that was 
 necessary, in order to make the contemplated 
 movement ; and then Ishmael, who was, on emer- 
 gencies, as terrifically energetic as he was slug- 
 gish in common, set about effecting his object 
 without delay. 
 
 Notwithstanding the industry and zeal of all 
 engaged, the task was one of great labor and 
 difficulty. The loaded vehicles were to be drawn 
 
40 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 by hand across a wide distance of plain, without 
 track, or guide of any sort, except that which the 
 trapper had furnished by communicating his 
 knowledge of the cardinal points of the compass. 
 In accomplishing this object, the gigantic strength 
 of the men was taxed to the utmost, nor were the 
 females or the children spared a heavy proportion 
 of the toil. While the sons distributed themselves 
 about the heavily-loaded wagons, and drew them 
 by main strength up the neighboring swell, their 
 mother and Ellen, surrounded by the amazed 
 group of little ones, followed slowly in the rear, 
 bending under the weight of such different arti- 
 cles as were suited to their several strengths. 
 
 Ishmael himself superintended and directed 
 the whole, occasionally applying his colossal 
 shoulder to some lagging vehicle until he saw 
 that the chief difficulty, that of gaining the level 
 of their intended route, was accomplished. Then 
 he pointed out the required course, cautioning his 
 sons to proceed in such a manner that they should 
 not lose the advantage they had with so much 
 labor obtained, and, beckoning to the brother of 
 his wife, they returned together to the empty 
 camp. 
 
 Throughout the whole of this movement, which 
 occupied an hour of time, the trapper had stood 
 apart, leaning on his rifle, with the aged hound 
 slumbering at his feet, a silent but attentive 
 observer of all that passed. Occasionally a smile 
 lighted his hard, muscular, but wasted features, 
 like a gleam of sunshine flitting across a ragged 
 ruin, and betrayed the momentary pleasure he 
 found in witnessing from time to time the vast 
 power the youths discovered. Then, as the train 
 drew slowly up the ascent, a cloud of thought and 
 sorrow threw all into the shade again, leaving the 
 expression of his countenance in its usual state 
 of quiet melancholy. As vehicle after vehicle left 
 the place of the encampment, he noted the change 
 with increasing attention ; seldom failing to cast an 
 inquiring look at the little neglected tent, which, 
 with its proper wagon, still remained as before, 
 solitary and apparently forgotten. The summons 
 of Ishmael to his gloomy associate had, however, 
 as it would now seem, this hitherto neglected 
 portion of his effects for its object. 
 
 First casting a cautious and suspicious glance 
 on every side of him, the squatter and his com- 
 panion advanced to the little wagon, and caused 
 it to enter within the folds of the cloth much in 
 the manner that it had been extricated the pre- 
 ceding evening. They both then disappeared be- 
 hind the drapery, and many moments of suspense 
 succeeded, during which the old man, secretly 
 urged by a burning desire to know the meaning 
 
 of so much mystery, insensibly drew nigh to the 
 place, until he stood within a few yards of the 
 proscribed spot. The agitation of the cloth be- 
 trayed the nature of the occupation of those whom 
 it concealed, though their work was conducted in 
 rigid silence. It would appear that long practice 
 had made each of the two acquainted with hia 
 particular duty ; for neither sign nor direction of 
 any sort was necessary from Ishmael, in order to 
 apprise his surly associate of the manner in which 
 he was to proceed. In less time than has been 
 consumed in relating it, the interior portion of the 
 arrangement was completed, when the men re- 
 appeared without the tent. Too busy with his 
 occupation to heed the presence of the trapper, 
 Ishmael began to release the folds of the cloth 
 from the ground, and to dispose of them in such 
 a manner around the vehicle as to form a sweep- 
 ing train to the new form the little pavilion had 
 now assumed. The arched roof trembled with 
 the occasional movement of the light vehicle 
 which, it was apparent, once more supported its 
 secret burden. Just as the work was ended, the 
 scowling eye of Ishmael’s assistant caught a 
 glimpse of the figure of the attentive observer of 
 their movements. Dropping the shaft, which he 
 had already lifted from the ground, preparatory 
 to occupying the place that was usually filled by 
 an animal less reasoning and perhaps less danger- 
 ous than himself, he bluntly exclaimed : 
 
 “lama fool, as you often say ! But look for 
 yourself. If that man is not an enemy, I will dis- 
 grace father and mother, call myself an Indian, 
 and go hunt with the Siouxes ! ” 
 
 The cloud, as it is about to discharge the sub- 
 tile lightning, is not more dark nor threatening 
 than the look with which Ishmael greeted the in- 
 truder. He turned his head on every side of him, 
 as if seeking some engine sufficiently terrible to an- 
 nihilate the offending trapper at a blow ; and then, 
 possibly recollecting the further occasion he might 
 have for his counsel, he forced himself to say, 
 with an appearance of moderation that nearly 
 choked him : 
 
 “ Stranger, I did believe this prying into the 
 concerns of others was the business of women in 
 the towns and settlements, and not the manner in 
 which men, who are used to live where each has 
 room for himself, deal with the secrets of their 
 neighbors. To what lawyer or sheriff do you cal- 
 culate to sell your news ? ” 
 
 “ I hold but little discourse except with one, 
 and then chiefly of my own affairs,” returned the 
 old man, without the least observable apprehen- 
 sion, and pointing imposingly upward; “a Judge 
 and Judge of all. Little does he need knowledge 
 
THE TRAPPER AND PAUL HOVER. 
 
 4 ] 
 
 from my hands, and but little will your wish to 
 keep any thing secret from him profit you, even 
 in this desert.” 
 
 The mounting tempers of his untutored listen- 
 ers were rebuked by the simple, solemn manner 
 of the trapper. Ishmael stood sullen and thought- 
 ful ; while his companion stole a furtive and in- 
 voluntary glance at the placid sky, which spread 
 so wide and blue above his head, as if he expected 
 to see the Almighty eye itself beaming from the 
 heavenly vault. But impressions of a serious 
 character are seldom lasting on minds long in- 
 dulged in forgetfulness. The hesitation of the 
 squatter was consequently of short duration. 
 The language, however, as well as the firm and 
 collected air of the speaker, were the means of 
 preventing much subsequent abuse, if not vio- 
 lence. 
 
 “ It would be showing more of the kindness 
 of a .friend and comrade,” Ishmael returned, in 
 a tone sufficiently sullen to betray his humor, 
 though it was no longer threatening, “ had your 
 shoulder been put to the wheel of one of yonder 
 wagons, instead of edging itself in here, where 
 none are wanted but such as are invited. 
 
 “ I can put the little strength that is left me,” 
 returned the trapper, “ to this, as well as to anoth- 
 er of your loads.” 
 
 “ Do you take us for boys 1 ” exclaimed Ish- 
 amel, laughing, half in ferocity and half in deri- 
 sion, applying his powerful strength at the same 
 time to the little vehicle, which rolled over the 
 grass with as much seeming facility as if it were 
 drawn by its usual team. 
 
 The trapper paused, and followed the depart- 
 ing wagon with his eye, marvelling greatly as to 
 the nature of its concealed contents, until it had 
 also gained the summit of the eminence, and in 
 its turn disappeared behind the swell of the land. 
 Then he turned to gaze at the desolation of the 
 scene around him. The absence of human forms 
 would have scarce created a sensation in the 
 bosom of one so long accustomed to solitude, had 
 not the site of the deserted camp furnished such 
 strong memorial of its recent visitors, and, as the 
 old man was quick to detect, of their waste also. 
 He cast his eye upward, with a shake of the head, 
 at the vacant spot in the heavens which had so 
 lately been filled by the branches of those trees 
 that now lay stripped of their verdure, worthless 
 and deserted logs at his feet. 
 
 “Ay,” he muttered to himself, “I might have 
 know’d it — I might have know’d it ! Often have 
 I seen the same before ; and yet I brought them 
 to the spot myself, and have now sent them to 
 the only neighborhood of their kind within many 
 
 long leagues of the spot where I now stand. 
 This is man’s wish, and pride, and waste, and sin- 
 fulness ! He tames the beasts of the field to feed 
 his idle wants: and having robbed the brutes of 
 their natural food, he teaches them to strip the 
 ’arth of its trees to quiet their hunger.” 
 
 A rustling in the low bushes which still grew, 
 for some distance, along the swale that formed 
 the thicket on which the camp of Ishmael had 
 rested, caught his ear at the moment, and cut 
 short the soliloquy. The habits of so many years 
 spent in the wilderness caused the old man to 
 bring his rifle to a poise, with something like the 
 activity and promptitude of his youth ; but, sud- 
 denly recovering his recollection, he dropped it 
 into the hollow of his arm again, and resumed his 
 air of melancholy resignation. 
 
 “Come forth, come forth!” he said aloud; 
 “ be ye bird or be ye beast, ye are safe from these 
 old hands. I have eaten and I have drunk : why 
 should I take life, when my wants call for no 
 sacrifice? It would not be long afore the birds 
 will peck at eyes that shall not see them, and 
 perhaps light on my very bones ; for if things 
 like these are only made to perish, why am I to 
 expect to live forever ? Come forth, come forth ; 
 you are safe from harm at these weak hands.” 
 
 “ Thank you for the good word, old trapper ! ” 
 cried Paul Hover, springing actively forward from 
 his place of concealment. “ There was an air 
 about you, when you threw forward the muzzle 
 of your piece, that I did not like ; for it seemed 
 to say that you were master of all the rest of the 
 motions.” 
 
 “ You are right, you are right ! ” cried the 
 trapper, laughing with inward self-complacency 
 at the recollection of his former skill. “ The day 
 has been when few men knew the virtues of a 
 long rifle like this I carry, better than myself, old 
 and useless as I now seem. You are right, young 
 man ; and the time was when it was dangerous 
 to move a leaf within ear-shot of my stand ; or,” 
 he added, dropping his voice and looking serious, 
 “ for a red Hingo to show an eyeball from his 
 ambushment. You have heard of the red Min- 
 goes ? ” 
 
 “ I have heard of minks,” said Paul, taking 
 the old man by the arm, and gently urging him 
 toward the thicket as he spoke; while at the 
 same time he cast quick and uneasy glances be- 
 hind him in order to make sure that he was not 
 observed — “ of your common black minks ; but 
 none of any other color.” 
 
 “ Lord ! Lord ! ” continued the trapper, shak- 
 ing his head, and still laughing in his deep, but 
 quiet manner ; “ the boy mistakes a brute for a 
 
42 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 man ! Though a Mingo is little better than a 
 beast; or, for that matter, he is worse when rum 
 and opportunity are placed before his eyes. 
 There was that accursed Huron from the upper 
 lakes, that I knocked from his perch among the 
 rocks in the hills, back of the Hori — ” 
 
 His voice was lost in the thicket, into which 
 he had suffered himself to be led by Paul while 
 speaking, too much oocupied by thoughts which 
 dwelt on scenes and acts that had taken place 
 half a century earlier in the history of the country, 
 to offer the smallest resistance. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 “Now they are clapper-clawing one another; I’ll go 
 look on. That dissembling abominable varlet, Diomed, has 
 got that same scurvy, doting, foolish young knave in his 
 helm.” 
 
 Troiltts and Cressida. 
 
 It is necessary, in order that the thread of the 
 narrative should not be spun to a length which 
 might fatigue the reader, that he should imagine 
 a week to have intervened between the scene 
 with which the preceding chapter closed and the 
 events with which it is our intention to resume its 
 relation in this. The season was on the point of 
 changing its character; the verdure of summer 
 giving place more rapidly to the brown and party- 
 colored livery of the fall.* The heavens were 
 clothed in driving clouds, piled in vast masses 
 one above the other, which whirled violently in the 
 gusts; opening, occasionally, to admit transient 
 glimpses of the bright and glorious sight of the 
 heavens, dwelling in a magnificence by far too 
 grand and durable to be disturbed by the fitful 
 efforts of the lower world. Beneath, the wind 
 swept across the wild and naked prairies with a 
 violence that is seldom witnessed in any section 
 of the continent less open. It would have been 
 easy to have imagined, in the ages of fable, that 
 the god of the winds had permitted his subordi- 
 nate agents to escape from their den, and that 
 they now rioted in wantonness across wastes 
 where neither tree, nor work of man, nor moun- 
 tain, nor obstacle of any sort, opposed itself to 
 their gambols. 
 
 Though nakedness might, as ushal, be given 
 as the pervading character of the spot whither it 
 is now necessary to transfer the scene of the tale, 
 it was not entirely without the signs of human 
 
 * The Americans call the autumn the “ fall,’ from the 
 All of the leaf. 
 
 life. Amid the monotonous rolling of the prairie* 
 a single naked and ragged rock arose on the mar- 
 gin of a little water-course which found its way, 
 after winding a vast distance through the plains, 
 into one of the numerous tributaries of the Father 
 of Rivers. A swale of low land lay near the base 
 of the eminence, and, as it was still fringed with a 
 thicket of alders and sumach, it bore the signs 
 of having once nurtured a feeble growth of wood. 
 The trees themselves had been transferred, how- 
 ever, to the summit and crags of the neighboring 
 rocks. On this elevation, the signs of man, to 
 which the allusion just made applies, were to be 
 found. 
 
 Seen from beneath, there were visible a breast- 
 work of logs and stones, intermingled in such a 
 manner as to save all unnecessary labor, a few 
 low ro.ofs made of bark and boughs of trees, an 
 occasional barrier, constructed like the defences 
 on the summit, and placed on such points of the 
 acclivity as were easier of approach than the gen- 
 eral face of the eminence ; and a little dwelling 
 of cloth, perched on the apex of a small pyramid 
 that shot up on one angle of the rock, the white 
 covering of which glimmered from a distance like 
 a spot of snow, or, to make the simile more suit- 
 able to the rest of the subject, like a spotless and 
 carefully-guarded standard, which was to be pro- 
 tected by the dearest blood of those who defended 
 the citadel beneath. It is hardly necessary to 
 add that this rude and characteristic fortress was 
 the place where Ishmael Bush had taken refuge, 
 after the robbery of his flocks and herds. 
 
 On the day to which the narrative is advanced, 
 the squatter was standing near the base of the 
 rocks, leaning on his rifle, and regarding the sterile 
 soil that supported him with a look in which con- 
 tempt and disappointment were strongly blended. 
 
 “ ’Tis time to change our natur’s,” he observed 
 to the brother of his wife, who was rarely far 
 from his elbow ; “and to become ruminators, 
 instead of people used to the fare of Christians 
 and free men. — I reckon, Abiram, you could 
 glean a living among the grasshoppers ; you ar’ 
 an active man, and might outrun the nimblest 
 skipper of them all.” 
 
 “ The country will never do,” returned the 
 other, who relished but little the forced humor 
 of his kinsman ; “ and it is well to remember that 
 a lazy traveller makes a long journey.” 
 
 “ Would you have me draw a cart at my heels, 
 across this desert, for weeks — ay, months ? ” re- 
 torted Ishmael, who, like all of his class, could 
 labor with incredible efforts on emergencies, but 
 who too seldom exerted continued industry on 
 any occasion to brook a proposal that offered so 
 
THE SQUATTER AND HIS BROTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 43 
 
 little repose “ It may do for your people, who 
 live in settlements, to hasten on to their houses ; 
 but, thank Heaven 1 my farm is too big for its 
 owner •ever to want a resting-place.” 
 
 “ Since you like the plantation, then, you have 
 only to make your crop.” 
 
 “ That is easier said than done, on this comer 
 of the estate. I tell you Abiram, there is need 
 of moving, for more reasons than one. You know 
 I’m a man that very seldom enters into a bargain, 
 but who always fulfils his agreements better than 
 your dealers in wordy contracts written on rags 
 of paper. If there’s one mile, there ar’ a hundred 
 still needed to make up the distance for which 
 you have my honor.” 
 
 As he spoke, the squatter glanced his eye up- 
 ward at the little tenement of cloth, which crowned 
 the summit of his ragged fortress. The look was 
 understood and answered by the other; and by 
 some secret influence, which operated either 
 through their interests or feelings, it served to re- 
 establish that harmony between them which had 
 just been threatened with something like a mo- 
 mentary breach. 
 
 “ I know it and feel it in every bone of my 
 body. But I remember the reason why I have 
 set myself on this accursed journey too well, to 
 forget the distance between me and the end. 
 Neither you nor I will ever be the better for what 
 we have done, unless we thoroughly finish what is 
 so well begun. Ay, that is the doctrine of the 
 whole world, I judge ; I heard a travelling preach- 
 er, who was skirting it down the Ohio, a time 
 since, say, if a man should live up to the faith 
 for a hundred years, and then fall from his work 
 a single day, he would find the settlement was to 
 be made for the finishing blow that he had put to 
 his job, and that all the bad, and none of the good, 
 would come into the final account.” 
 
 “ And you believed the hungry hypocrite ! ” 
 
 “ Who said that I believed it ? ” retorted 
 Abiram, with a bullying look, that betrayed how 
 much his fears had dwelt on the subject he af- 
 fected to despise. “ Is it believing to tell what 
 a roguish — ? And yet, Ishmael, the man might 
 have been honest after all ! He told us that the 
 world was, in truth, no better than a desert, and 
 that there was but one hand that could lead the 
 most learned man through all its crooked wind- 
 ings. Now, if this be true of the whole, it may 
 be true of a part.” 
 
 “Abiram, out with your grievances like a 
 man,” interrupted the squatter, with a hoarse 
 laugh. “You want to pray! But of what use 
 will it be, according to your own doctrine, to 
 serve God five minutes and the devil an hour? 
 
 Harlcee, friend ; I’m not much of a husbandman, 
 but this I know to my cost : that to make a right 
 good crop, even on the richest bottom, there 
 must be hard labor ; and your snufflers liken the 
 ’arth to a field of corn, and the men, who live on 
 it, to its yield. Now I tell you, Abiram, that 
 you are no better than a thistle or a mullein ; yea, 
 ye ar’ a wood of too open a pore to be good even 
 to burn.” 
 
 The malign glance which shot from the scowl- 
 ing eye of Abiram announced the angry charac- 
 ter of his feelings ; but, as the furtive look 
 quailed immediately before the unmoved, steady 
 countenance of the squatter, it also betrayed how 
 much the bolder spirit of the latter had obtained 
 the mastery over his craven nature. 
 
 Content with his ascendency, which was too 
 apparent, and had been too often exerted on simi- 
 lar occasions, to leave him in any doubt of its 
 extent, Ishmael coolly continued the discourse, by 
 adverting more directly to his future plans. 
 
 “ You will own the justice of paying every one 
 in kind,” he said. “ I have been robbed of my 
 stock, and I have a scheme to make myself as 
 good as before, by taking hoof for hoof; or, for 
 that matter, when a man is put to the trouble of 
 bargaining for both sides, he is a fool if he don’t 
 pay himself something in the way of commission.” 
 
 As the squatter made this declaration, in a 
 tone which was a little excited by the humor of 
 the moment, four or five of his lounging sons, who 
 had been leaning against the foot of the rock, came 
 forward with the indolent step so common to the 
 family. 
 
 “ I have been calling Ellen Wade, who is on 
 the rock keeping the lookout, to know if there is 
 any thing to be seen,” observed the eldest of the 
 young men; “and she shakes her head, for an 
 answer. Ellen is sparing of her words for a 
 woman, and might be taught manners, at least, 
 without spoiling her good looks.” 
 
 Ishmael cast his eye upward to the place 
 where the offending but unconscious girl was 
 holding her anxious watch. She was seated at 
 the edge of the uppermost crag, by the side of 
 the little tent, and at least two hundred feet above 
 the level of the plain. Little else was to be dis- 
 tinguished, at that distance, but the outline of her 
 form, her fair hair streaming in the gusts beyond 
 her shoulders, and the steady and seemingly un- 
 changeable look that she riveted on some remote 
 point of the prairie. 
 
 “ What is it, Nell ? ” cried Ishmael, lifting his 
 powerful voice a little above the rushing of the 
 element. “ Have you got a glimpse of any thing 
 bigger than a burrowing barker ? ” 
 
H 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 The lips of the attentive Ellen parted ; she 
 rose to the utmost height her small stature ad- 
 mitted, seeming still to regard the unknown ob- 
 ject ; but her voice, if she spoke at all, was not 
 sufficiently loud to be heard amid the wind. 
 
 “ It ar’ a fact that the child sees something 
 more uncommon than a buffalo or a prairie-dog ! ” 
 continued Ishmael. — “Why, Nell, girl, ar’ ye 
 deaf? Nell, I say! — I hope it is an army of red- 
 skins she has in her eye ; for I should relish the 
 chance to pay them for their kindness, under the 
 favor of these logs and rocks ! ” 
 
 As the squatter accompanied his vaunt with 
 corresponding gestures, and directed his eyes to 
 the circle of his equally confident sons while 
 speaking, he drew their gaze from Ellen to him- 
 self; but now, when they turned together to note 
 the succeeding movements of their female sentinel, 
 the place which had so lately been occupied by 
 her form was vacant. 
 
 “ As I am a sinner,” exclaimed Asa, usually 
 one of the most phlegmatic of the youths, “ the 
 girl is blown away by the wind ! ” 
 
 Something like a sensation was exhibited 
 among them, which might have denoted that the 
 influence of the laughing blue eyes, flaxen hair, 
 and glowing cheeks of Ellen, had not been lost 
 on the dull natures of the young men ; and looks 
 of amazement, mingled slightly with concern, 
 passed from one to the other as they gazed, in 
 dull wonder, at the point of the naked rock. 
 
 “ It might well be ! ” added another ; “ she sat 
 on a slivered stone, and I have been thinking of 
 telling her she was in danger for more than an 
 hour.” 
 
 “ Is that a ribbon of the child, dangling from 
 the corner of the hill below ? ” cried Ishmael ; 
 “ Ha ! who is moving about the tent ? Have I 
 not told you all — ” 
 
 “Ellen! ’tis Ellen!” interrupted the whole 
 body of his sons in a breath, and at that instant 
 she reappeared, to put an end to their different 
 surmises, and to relieve more than one sluggish 
 nature from its unwonted excitement. As Ellen 
 issued from beneath the folds of the tent, she ad- 
 vanced with a light and fearless step to her for- 
 mer giddy stand, and pointed toward the prairie, 
 appearing to speak in an eager and rapid voice 
 to some invisible auditor. 
 
 “ Nell i3 mad ! ” said Asa, half in contempt, 
 and yet not a little in concern. “The girl is 
 dreaming with her eyes open; and thinks she 
 sees some of them fierce creatur’s, with hard 
 names, with which the doctor fills her ears.” 
 
 “ Can it be that the child has found a scout 
 of the Siouxes ? ” said Ishmael, bending his look 
 
 toward the plain ; but a low, significant whisper 
 from Abiram drew his eyes quickly upward again, 
 where they were turned just in time to perceive 
 that the cloth of the tent was agitated by a mo- 
 tion very evidently different from the quivering 
 occasioned by the wind. “ Let her, if she dare ! ” 
 the squatter muttered in his teeth. “Abiram, 
 they know my temper too well to play the prank 
 with me ! ” 
 
 “ Look for yourself! If the curtain is not lift- 
 ed, I can see no better than the owl by daylight.” 
 
 Ishmael struck the breech of his rifle violently 
 on the earth, and shouted in a voice that might 
 easily have been heard by Ellen, had not her at- 
 tention still continued rapt on the object which so 
 unaccountably attracted her eyes in the distance. 
 
 “ Nell ! ” continued the squatter, “ away with 
 you, fool ! Will you bring down punishment on 
 your own head ? Why, Nell ! — She has forgotten 
 her native speech ; let us see if she can under- 
 stand another language.” 
 
 Ishmael threw his rifle to his shoulder, and at 
 the next moment it was pointed upward at the 
 summit of the rock. Before time was given for a 
 word of remonstrance, it had sent forth its con- 
 tents, in its usual streak of bright flame. Ellen 
 started like the frightened chamois, and, uttering 
 a piercing scream, she darted into the tent with a 
 swiftness that left it uncertain whether terror or 
 actual injury had been the penalty of her offence. 
 
 The action of the squatter was too sudden 
 and unexpected to admit of prevention ; but, the 
 instant it was done, his sons manifested, in an un- 
 equivocal manner, the temper with which they 
 witnessed the desperate measure. Angry and 
 fierce glances were interchanged, and a murmur 
 of disapprobation was uttered by the whole, in 
 common. 
 
 “ What has Ellen done, father,” said Asa, with 
 a degree of spirit which was the more striking 
 from being unusual, “ that she should be shot at 
 like a straggling deer or a hungry wolf? ” 
 
 “Mischief,” deliberately returned the squat- 
 ter ; but with a cool expression of defiance in his 
 eye, that showed how little he was moved by the 
 ill-concealed humor of his children. “ Mischief, 
 boy — mischief! Take you heed that the disorder 
 don’t spread ! ” 
 
 “ It would need a different treatment in a man 
 than in yon screaming girl.” 
 
 “ Asa, you ar’ a man, as you have often boast- 
 ed ; but remember, I am your father, and your 
 better.” 
 
 “ I know it well ; and what sort of a fa- 
 ther ? ” 
 
 “ Harkee, boy : I more than half believe that 
 
THE FEMALE SENTINEL. 
 
 45 
 
 your drowsy head let in the Siouxes. Be modest 
 in speech, my watchful son, or you may have to 
 answer yet for the mischief ymr own bad con- 
 duct has brought upon us.” 
 
 “I’ll stay no longer, to be hectored like a 
 child In petticoats. You talk of law, as if you 
 knew of none, and yet you keep me down as 
 though I had not life and wants of my own. I’ll 
 stay no longer to be treated like one of your 
 meanest cattle ! ” 
 
 “The world is wide, my gallant boy, and 
 there’s many a noble plantation on it, without a 
 tenant. Go ; you have title - deeds signed and 
 sealed to your hand. Few fathers portion their 
 children better than Ishmael Bush; you will 
 say that for me at least, when you get to be a 
 wealthy landholder.” 
 
 “ Look ! father, look ! ” exclaimed several 
 voices at once, seizing with avidity an opportu- 
 nity to interrupt a dialogue which threatened to 
 become more violent. 
 
 “ Look ! ” repeated Abiram, in a voice which 
 sounded hollow and warning ; “ if you have time 
 for any thing but quarrels, Ishmael, look ! ” 
 
 The squatter turned slowly from his offend- 
 ing son, and cast an eye that still lowered with 
 deep resentment upward ; but which, the instant 
 it caught a view of the object that now attracted 
 the attention of all around him, changed its ex- 
 pression to one of astonishment and dismay. 
 
 A female stood on the spot from which Ellen 
 had been so fearfully expelled. Her person was 
 of the smallest size that is believed to comport 
 with beauty, and which poets and artists have 
 chosen as the beau ideal of female loveliness. 
 Her dress was of a dark and glossy silk, and 
 fluttered like gossamer around her form. Long, 
 flowing, and curling tresses of hair, still blacker 
 and more shining than her robe, fell at times 
 about her shoulders, completely enveloping the 
 whole of her delicate bust in their ringlets ; or 
 at others streaming in the wind. The elevation 
 at which she stood prevented a close examina- 
 tion of the lineaments of a countenance which, 
 however, it might be seen was youthful, and, at 
 the moment of her unlooked-for appearance, 
 eloquent with feeling. So young, indeed, did 
 this fair and fragile being appear, that it might 
 be doubted whether the age of childhood was 
 entirely passed. One small and exquisitely- 
 moulded hand was pressed on her heart, while 
 with the other she made an impressive gesture, 
 which seemed to invite Ishmael, if further vio- 
 lence was meditated, to direct it against her 
 bosom. 
 
 The silent wonder with which the group of 
 
 borderers gazed upward at so extraordinary a 
 spectacle, was only interrupted as the person of 
 Ellen was seen emerging with timidity from the 
 tent, as if equally urged by apprehensions in be- 
 half of herself, and the fears which she felt on 
 account of her companion, to remain concealed 
 and to advance. She spoke, but her words were 
 unheard by those below, and unheeded by her to 
 whom they were addressed. The latter, however, 
 as if content with the offer she had made of her- 
 self as a victim to the resentment of Ishmael, 
 now calmly retired, and the spot she had so 
 lately occupied became vacant, leaving a sort of 
 stupid impression on the spectators beneath, not 
 unlike that which it might be supposed would 
 have been created had they just been gazing at 
 some supernatural vision. 
 
 More than a minute of profound silence suc- 
 ceeded, during which the sons of Ishmael still 
 continued gazing at the naked rock in stupid 
 wonder. Then, as eye met eye, an expression 
 of novel intelligence passed from one to the other, 
 indicating that to them, at least, the appearance 
 of this extraordinary tenant of the pavilion was as 
 unexpected as it was incomprehensible. At length 
 Asa, in right of his years, and moved by the 
 rankling impulse of the recent quarrel, took on 
 himself the office of interrogator. Instead, how- 
 ever, of braving the resentment of his father, of 
 whose fierce nature, when aroused, he had had too 
 frequent evidence to excite it wantonly, he turned 
 upon the cowering person of Abiram, observ- 
 ing with a sneer : 
 
 “ This, then, is the beast you were bringing 
 into the prairies for a decoy ! I know you to be 
 a man who seldom troubles truth when any thing 
 worse may answer, but I never knew you to outdo 
 yourself so thoroughly before. The newspapers 
 of Kentuck have called you a dealer in black flesh 
 a hundred times, but little did they reckon that 
 you drove the trade into white families.” 
 
 “ Who is a kidnapper ? ” demanded Abiram, 
 with a blustering show of resentment. “ Am I 
 to be called to account for every lie they put in 
 print throughout the States ? Look to your own 
 family, boy ; look to yourselves. The very 
 stumps of Kentucky and Tennessee cry out agin 
 ye. Ay, my tonguey gentleman, I have seen 
 father and mother and three children, yourself 
 for one, published on the logs and stubs of the 
 settlements, with dollars enough for reward to 
 have made an honest man rich, for — ” 
 
 He was interrupted by a back-handed but vio- 
 lent blow on the mouth that caused him to totter, 
 and which left the impression of its weight in the 
 starting blood and swelling lips. 
 
THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 40 
 
 “ Asa,” said the father, advancing with a por- 
 tion of that dignity with which the hand of 
 Nature seems to have invested the parental char- 
 acter, “ you have struck the brother of your 
 mother ! ” 
 
 “ I have struck the abuser of the whole fainilv,” 
 returned the angry youth ; “ and, unless he 
 teaches his tongue a wiser language, he had bet- 
 ter part with it altogether, as the unruly member. 
 I’m no great performer with the knife, but on an 
 occasion could make out, myself, to cut off a 
 slande — ” 
 
 “Boy, twice have you forgotten yourself to- 
 day. Be careful that it does not happen the 
 third time. When the law of the land is weak, 
 it is right the law of Nature should be strong. 
 You understand me, Asa ; and you know me. 
 — As for you, Abiram, the child has done you 
 wrong, and it is my place to see you righted. 
 Remember, I tell you justice shall be done ; it is 
 enough. But you have said hard things ag’in me 
 and my family. If the hounds of the law have 
 put their bills on the trees and stumps of the 
 clearing, it was for no act of dishonesty, as you 
 know, but because we maintain the rule that 
 ’arth is common property. No, Abiram; could 
 I wash my hands of things done by your advice, 
 as easily as I can of the things done by the whis- 
 perings of the devil, my sleep would be quieter 
 at night, and none who bear my name need blush 
 to hear it mentioned. — Peace, Asa, and you too, 
 man ; enough has been said. Let us all think 
 well before any thing is added that may make 
 what i3 already so bad still more bitter.” 
 
 Ishmael waved his hand with authority, as he 
 ended, and turned away with the air of one who 
 felt assured that those he had addressed would 
 not have the temerity to dispute his commands. 
 Asa evidently struggled with himself to compel 
 the required obedience, but his heavy nature 
 quietly sank into its ordinary repose, and he soon 
 appeared again the being he really was — danger- 
 ous only at moments, and one whose passions 
 were too sluggish to be long maintained at the 
 point of ferocity. Not so with Abiram. While 
 there was an appearance of a personal conflict 
 between him and his colossal nephew, his mien 
 had expressed the infallible evidences of engross- 
 ing apprehension ; but now that the authority as 
 well as gigantic strength of the father were inter- 
 posed between him and his assailant, his counte- 
 nance changed from paleness to a livid hue, that 
 bespoke how deeply the injury he had received 
 rankled in his breast. Like Asa, however, he 
 acquiesced in the decision of the squatter ; and 
 the appearance, ai least, of harmony was restored 
 
 again among a set of beings who were restrained 
 by nq obligations more powerful than the frail 
 web of authority with which Ishmael had been 
 able to envelop his children. 
 
 One effect of the quarrel had been to divert 
 the thoughts of the young man from their recent 
 visitor. With the dispute that succeeded the 
 disappearance of the fair stranger, all recollec- 
 tion of her existence appeared to have vanished. 
 A few ominous and secret conferences, it is true, 
 w r ere held apart, during which the direction of 
 the eyes of the different speakers betrayed their 
 subject ; but these threatening symptoms soon 
 disappeared, and the whole party was again seen 
 broken into its usual, listless, silent, and loung. 
 ing groups. 
 
 “ I will go upon the rock, boys, and look 
 abroad for the savages,” said Ishmael, shortly 
 after, advancing toward them with a mien which 
 he intended should be conciliating, at the same 
 time that it was authoritative. “If there is 
 nothing to fear, w r e will go out on the plain ; the 
 day is too good to be lost in w r ords, like women 
 in the towns wrangling over their tea and sugared 
 cakes.” 
 
 Without waiting for approbation or dissent, 
 the squatter advanced to the base of the rock, 
 which formed a sort of perpendicular wall, nearly 
 twenty feet high, around the whole acclivity 
 Ishmael, however, directed his footsteps to a point 
 where an ascent might be made through a narrow 
 cleft, which he had taken the precaution to fortify 
 ■with a breastwork of cotton-wood logs, and which, 
 in its turn, was defended by a chevaux-de-frise of 
 the branches of the same tree. Here an armed 
 man was usually kept, as at the key of the whole 
 position, and here one of the young men now 
 stood, indolently leaning against the rock, ready 
 to protect the pass, if it should prove necessary, 
 until the whole party could be mustered at the 
 several points of defence. 
 
 From this place the squatter found the ascent 
 still difficult, partly by nature, and partly by arti- 
 ficial impediments, until he reached a sort of ter- 
 race, or, to speak more properly, the plain of the 
 elevation, where he had established the huts in 
 which the whole family dwelt. These tenements 
 were, as already mentioned, of that class which 
 are so often seen on the borders, and such as be- 
 longed to the infancy of architecture ; being sim- 
 ply formed of logs, bark, and poles. The area 
 on which they stood contained severed hundred 
 square feet, and was sufficiently elevated above 
 the plain greatly to lessen, if not to remove, all 
 danger from Indian missiles. Here Ishmael be- 
 lieved he might leave his infants in comparative 
 
ESTHER AND HER FAMILY. 
 
 47 
 
 security, under the protection of their spirited 
 mother; and here he now found Esther engaged 
 
 her ordinary domestic employments, sur- 
 rounded by her daughters, and lifting her voice, 
 in declamatory censure, as one or another of the 
 idle fry incurred her displeasure, and far too 
 much engrossed with the tempest of her own con- 
 versation to know any thing of the violent scene 
 which had been passing below. 
 
 “ A fine windy place you have chosen for the 
 camp, Ishmael 1 ” she commenced, or rather con- 
 tinued, by merely diverting the attack from a 
 sobbing girl of ten, at her elbow, to her husband. 
 “ My word I if 1 haven’t to count the young ones 
 every ten minutes, to see they are not flying away 
 among the buzzards or the ducks. Why do ye 
 all keep hovering round the rock, like lolloping 
 reptiles in the spring, when the heavens are be- 
 ginning to be alive with birds, man ? D’ye think 
 mouths can be filled, and hunger satisfied, by lazi- 
 aess and sleep ? ” 
 
 “ You’ll have your say, Eester,” said the hus- 
 band, using the provincial pronunciation of 
 America for the name, and regarding his noisy 
 companions with a look of habitual tolerance 
 rather than of affection. “But the birds you 
 shall have, if your own tongue don’t frighten 
 them to take too high a flight. Ay, woman,” 
 he continued, standing on the very spot whence 
 he had so rudely banished Ellen, which he had 
 by this time gained, “and buffalo, too, if my 
 eye can tell the animal at the distance of a Span- 
 ish league.” 
 
 “ Come down ; come down, and be doing, in- 
 stead of talking. A talking man is no better than 
 a barking dog. Nell shall hang out the cloth, if 
 any of the red-skin3 show themselves, in time to 
 give you notice. But, Ishmael, what have you 
 been killing, my man ? — for it was your rifle I 
 heard a few minutes agone, unless I have lost my 
 skill in sounds.” 
 
 “ Pooh ! ’twas to frighten the hawk you see 
 sailing above the rock.” 
 
 “ Hawk, indeed ! at your time of day to be 
 shooting at hawks and buzzards, with eighteen 
 open mouths to feed. Look at the bee, and at 
 the beaver, my good man, and learn to be a pro- 
 vide ». Why, Ishmael! I believe my soul,” she 
 continued, dropping the tow she was twisting on 
 a distaff, “ the man is in that tent ag’in ! More 
 than half his time is spent about the worthless, 
 good-for-nothing — ” 
 
 The sudden reappearance of her husband 
 closed the mouth of the wife ; and, as the former 
 descended to the place where Esther had resumed 
 her employment, she was content to grumble forth 
 
 her dissatisfaction, instead of expressing it in more 
 audible terms. 
 
 The dialogue that now took place between the 
 affectionate pair was sufficiently succinct and ex- 
 pressive. The woman was at first a little brief 
 and sullen in her answers, but care for her family 
 soon rendered her more complaisant. As the 
 purport of the conversation was merely an en- 
 gagement to hunt during the remainder of the 
 day, in order to provide the chief necessary of 
 life, we shall not stop to record it. 
 
 With this resolution, then, the squatter de- 
 scended to the plain and divided his forces into 
 two parts, one of which was to remain as a guard 
 with the fortress, and the other to accompany him 
 to the field. He warily included Asa and Abiram 
 in his own party, well knowing that no authority 
 short of his own was competent to repress the 
 fierce disposition of his headlong son, if fairly 
 awakened. When these arrangements were com- 
 pleted, the hunters sallied forth, separating at no 
 great distance from the rock, in order to form a 
 circle about the distant herd of buffaloes. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 “ Priscian a little scratched , 
 
 'Twill serve.” 
 
 Love's Labobb Lost. 
 
 Having made the reader acquainted with the 
 manner in which Ishmael Bush had disposed of 
 his family, under circumstances that might have 
 proved so embarrassing to most other men, we 
 shall again shift the scene a few short miles from 
 the place last described, preserving, however, the 
 due and natural succession of time. At the very 
 moment that the squatter and his sons departed 
 in the manner mentioned in the preceding chap- 
 ter, two men were intently occupied in a swale 
 that lay along the borders of a little run, just out 
 of cannon-shot from the encampment, discussing 
 the merits of a savory bison’s hump, that had been 
 prepared for their palates with the utmost atten- 
 tion to the particular merits of that description 
 of food. The choice morsel had been judiciously 
 separated from the adjoining and less worthy 
 parts of the beast, and, enveloped in the hairy 
 coating provided by Nature, it had duly under- 
 gone the heat of the customary subterraneous 
 oven, and was now laid before its proprietors in 
 all the culinary glory of the prairies. So far as 
 richness, delicacy and wildness of flavor, and sub- 
 stantial nourishment were concerned, the viand 
 
48 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 might well have claimed a decided superiority 
 over the meretricious cookery and labored com- 
 pounds of the most renowned artist ; though the 
 service of the dainty was certainly achieved in a 
 manner far from artificial. It would appear that 
 the two fortunate mortals, to whose happy lot it 
 fell to enjoy a meal in which health and appetite 
 lent so keen a relish to the exquisite food of the 
 American deserts' were far from being insensible 
 of the advantage they possessed. 
 
 The one to whose knowledge in the culinary 
 art the other was indebted for his banquet, 
 seemed the least disposed of the two to profit by 
 his own skill. He ate, it is true, and with a 
 relish ; but it was always with the moderation 
 with which age is apt to temper the appetite. 
 No such restraint, however, was imposed on the 
 inclination of his companion. In the' very flow- 
 er of his days and in the vigor of manhood, the 
 homage that he paid to the work of his more 
 aged friend’s hands was of the most profound and 
 engrossing character. As one delicious morsel 
 succeeded another he rolled his eyes toward his 
 companion, and seemed to express that gratitude 
 which he had not speech to utter, in looks of the 
 most benignant nature. 
 
 “ Cut more into the heart of it, lad,” said the 
 trapper, for it was the venerable inhabitant of 
 those vast wastes who had served the bee-hunter 
 with the banquet in question; “cut more into 
 the centre of the piece ; there you will find the 
 genuine riches of natur’ ; and that without need 
 from spices, or any of your biting mustard, to 
 give it a foreign relish.” 
 
 “ If I had but a cup of metheglin,” said Paul, 
 stopping to perform the necessary operation of 
 breathing, “ I should swear this was the strong- 
 est meal that was ever placed before the mouth 
 of man ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, well you may call it strong ! ” re- 
 turned the other, laughing after his peculiar 
 manner, in pure satisfaction at witnessing the 
 infinite contentment of his companion ; “ strong 
 it is, and strong it makes him who eats it ! — Here, 
 Hector,” tossing the patient hound, who was 
 watching his eye with a wistful look, a portion of 
 the meat, “ you have need of strength, my friend, 
 in your old days as well as your master. — Now, 
 lad, there is a dog that has eaten and slept wiser 
 and better, ay, and that of richer food, than 
 any king of them all ! and why ? because he has 
 used and not abused the gifts of his Maker. He 
 was made a hound, and like a hound has he 
 feasted. Them did He create men ; but they 
 have eaten like famished wolves ! A good and 
 prudent dog has Hector proved, and never have I 
 
 found one of his breed false in nose or friendship. 
 Ho you know the difference between the cook^y 
 of the wilderness and that which is found in the 
 settlements ? No ! I see plainly you don’t, by 
 your appetite ; then I will tell you. The one 
 follows man, the other Natur’. One thinks he 
 can add to the gifts of the Creator, while the 
 other is humble enough to enjoy them ; therein 
 lies the secret.” 
 
 “ I tell you, trapper,” said Paul, who was very 
 little edified by the morality with which his asso- 
 ciate saw fit to season their repast, “ that every 
 day while we are in this place, and they are likely 
 to be many, I will shoot a buffalo and you shall 
 cook his hump ! ” 
 
 “ I cannot say that, I cannot say that. The 
 beast is good, take him in what part you will, 
 and it was to be food for man that he was fash- 
 ioned ; but I cannot say that I will be a witness 
 and a helper to the waste of killing one daily.” 
 
 “ The devil a bit of waste shall there be, old 
 man. If they all turn out as good as this, I will 
 engage to eat them clean myself, even to the 
 hoofs. — How now, who comes here ! some one 
 with a long nose, I will answer ; and one that has 
 led him on a true scent, if he is following the 
 trail of a dinner.” 
 
 The individual who interrupted the conversa- 
 tion, and who had elicited the foregoing remark 
 of Paul, was seen advancing along the margin 
 of the run with a deliberate pace, in a direct 
 line for the two revellers. As there was noth- 
 ing formidable nor hostile in his appearance, the 
 bee-hunter, instead of suspending his operations, 
 rather increased his efforts, in a manner which 
 would seem to imply that he doubted whether 
 the hump would suffice for the proper entertain- 
 ment of all who were now likely to partake of 
 the delicious morsel. With the trapper, however, 
 the case was different. His more tempered 
 appetite was already satisfied, and he faced the 
 new-comer with a look of cordiality that plainly 
 evinced how very opportune he considered his 
 arrival. 
 
 “ Come on, friend,” he said, waving his hand, 
 as he observed the stranger to pause a moment, 
 apparently in doubt. “ Come on, I say ; if hun- 
 ger be your guide, it has led you to a fitting 
 place. Here is meat, and this youth can give you 
 corn, parched till it be whiter than the upland 
 snow; come on, without fear. We are not rav- 
 enous beasts, eating of each other, but Christian 
 men, receiving thankfully that which the Lord 
 hath seen fit to give.” 
 
 “Venerable hunter,” returned the doctor, for 
 it was no other than the naturalist on one of hia 
 
AN OFFENDED NATURALIST. 
 
 49 
 
 daily exploring expeditions, “I rejoice greatly 
 at this happy meeting ; we are lovers of the same 
 pursuits, and should be friends.” 
 
 “ Lord, Lord ! ” said the old man, laughing, 
 without much deference to the rules of decorum, 
 in the philosopher’s very face, “it is the man 
 who wanted to make me believe that a name 
 could change the natur’ of a beast ! Come, 
 friend, you are welcome, though your notions are 
 a little blinded with reading too many books. 
 Sit ye down, and, after eating of this morsel, 
 tell me, if you can, the name of the creatur’ that 
 has bestowed on you its flesh for a meal ? ” 
 
 The eyes of Di*. Battius (for we deem it 
 decorous to give the good man the appellation 
 he most preferred) — the eyes of Dr. Battius 
 sufficiently denoted the satisfaction with which 
 he listened to this proposal. The exercise he 
 had taken, and the sharpness of the wind, proved 
 excellent stimulants ; and Paul himself had 
 hardly been in better plight to do credit to the 
 trapper’s cookery, than was the lover of Nature, 
 when the grateful invitation met his ears. In- 
 dulging in a small laugh, which his exertions to 
 repress reduced nearly to a simper, he took the 
 indicated seat by the old man’s side, and made 
 the customary dispositions to commence his meal 
 without further ceremony. 
 
 “ I should be ashamed of my profession,” he 
 said, swallowing a morsel of the hump with evi- 
 dent delight, slyly endeavoring at the same time 
 to distinguish the peculiarities of the singed and 
 defaced skin, “I ought to be ashamed of my 
 profession, were there beast or bird, on the con- 
 tinent Of America, that I could not tell by some 
 one of the many evidences which science has 
 enlisted in her cause. This — then — the food is 
 nutritious and savory — a mouthful of your corn, 
 friend, if you please ? ” 
 
 Paul, who continued eating with increasing 
 industry, looking askant not unlike a dog when 
 engaged in the same agreeable pursuit, threw him 
 his pouch, without deeming it at all necessary to 
 suspend his own labors. 
 
 “You were saying, friend, that you have 
 many ways of telling the creatur’ ? ” — observed 
 the attentive trapper. 
 
 “ Many — many and infallible. Now, the an- 
 imals that are carnivorous are known by their 
 ihcisores.” 
 
 “ Their what ? ” demanded the trapper. 
 
 “ The teeth with which Nature has furnished 
 them for defence, and in order to tear their food. 
 Again — •” 
 
 “ Look you then for the teeth of this crea- 
 tur’,” interrupted the trapper, who was bent on 
 
 4 
 
 convicting a man who had presumed to enter in- 
 to competition with himself, in matters pertain- 
 ing to the wilds, of gross ignorance ; “ turn the 
 piece round and find your inside-overs.” 
 
 The doctor complied, and of course without 
 success; though he profited by the occasion to 
 take another fruitless glance at the wrinkled 
 hide. 
 
 “Well, friend, do you find the things you 
 need, before you can pronounce the creatur’ a 
 duck or a salmon ? ” 
 
 “ I apprehend the entire animal is not here ? ” 
 
 “You may well say as much,” cried Paul, 
 who was now compelled to pause from pure re- 
 pletion ; “ I will answer for some pounds of the 
 fellow, weighed by the truest steelyards west of 
 the Alleghanies. Still you may make out to keep 
 soul and body together with what is left,” reluc- 
 tantly eying a piece large enough to feed twenty 
 men, but which he felt compelled to abandon 
 from satiety ; “ cut in nigher to the heart, as the 
 old man says, and you will find the riches of the 
 piece.” 
 
 “ The heart ! ” exclaimed the doctor, inwardly 
 delighted to learn there was a distinct organ to 
 be submitted to his inspection. “ Ay, let me see 
 the heart — it will at once determine the charac- 
 ter of the animal — certes this is not the cor — 
 ay, sure enough it is — the animal must be of the 
 order Belluce , from its obese habits ! ” 
 
 He was interrupted by a long and hearty, but 
 still a noiseless fit of merriment, from the trap- 
 per, w r hich was considered so ill-timed by the of- 
 fended naturalist, as to produce an instant cessa- 
 tion of speech, if not a stagnation of ideas. 
 
 “ Listen to his beasts’ habits and belly orders,” 
 said the old man, delighted with the evident em- 
 barrassment of his rival ; “ and then he says it is 
 not the core ! Why, man, you are further from 
 the truth than you are from the settlements, with 
 all your bookish laming and hard words ; which 
 I have, once for all, said cannot be understood 
 by any tribe or nation east of the Rocky Moun- 
 tains. Beastly habits or no beastly habits, the 
 creatur’s are to be seen cropping the prairies by 
 tens of thousands, and the piece in your hand 
 is the core of as juicy a buffalo-hump as stomach 
 need crave ! ” 
 
 “ My aged companion,” said Obed, struggling 
 to keep down a rising irascibility that he conceived 
 would ill comport with the dignity of his charac- 
 ter, “ your system is erroneous, from the premises 
 to the conclusion ; and your classification so 
 faulty, as utterly to confound the distinctions of 
 science. The buffalo is not gifted with a hump 
 at all ; nor is his flesh savory and wholesome, as 
 
50 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 I must acknowledge it would seem the subject 
 before us may well be characterized — ” 
 
 “There I’m dead agaiDSt you, and clearly 
 with the trapper, ” interrupted Paul Hover. 
 “ The man who denies that buffalo-beef is good, 
 should scorn to eat it ! ” * 
 
 The doctor, whose observation of the bee- 
 hunter had hitherto been exceedingly cursory, 
 stared at the new speaker with a look which de- 
 noted something like recognition. 
 
 “ The principal characteristics of your coun- 
 tenance, friend,” he said, “are familiar; either 
 you, or some other specimen of your class, is 
 known to me.” 
 
 “ I am the man you met in the woods east of 
 the big river, and whom you tried to persuade to 
 line a yellow hornet to his nest; as if my eye 
 was not too true to mistake any other animal for 
 a honey-bee, in a clear day ! We tarried to- 
 gether a week, as you may remember ; you at 
 your toads and lizards, and I at my high holes 
 and hollow trees : and a good job we made of it 
 between us ! I filled my tubs with the sweetest 
 honey I ever sent to the settlements, besides 
 housing a dozen hives ; and your bag was near 
 bursting with a crawling museum. I never was 
 bold enough to put the question to your face, 
 stranger, but I reckon you are a keeper of curi- 
 osities ? ” f 
 
 “ Ay ! that is another of their wanton wicked- 
 nesses ! ” exclaimed the trapper. “ They slay the 
 buck, and the moose, and the wild-cat, and all the 
 beasts that range the woods, and stuffing them 
 with worthless rags, and placing eyes of glass in- 
 to their heads, they set them up to be stared at, 
 and call them the creatur’s of the Lord ; as if 
 any mortal effigy could equal the works of his 
 hand ! ” 
 
 “ I know you well ! ” returned the doctor, on 
 whom the plaint of the old man produced no 
 visible impression. “I know you,” offering his 
 hand cordially to Paul ; “ it was a prolific week, 
 
 * It is scarcely necessary to tell the reader that the 
 animal so often alluded to in this book, and which is vul- 
 garly called the buffalo, is in truth the bison ; hence so 
 many contre-temps between the men of the prairies and the 
 men of science. 
 
 t The pursuit of a bee-hunter is not uncommon, on the 
 skirts of American society, though it is a little embellished 
 here. "When the bees are seen sucking the flowers, their 
 pursuer contrives to capture one or two. He then chooses 
 a proper spot, and, suffering one to escape, the insect in- 
 variably takes its flight toward the hive. Changing his 
 ground to a greater or less distance, according to circum- 
 stances, the bee-hunter then permits another to escape. 
 Having watched the courses of the bees, Which is techni- 
 cally called lining, he is enabled to calculate the intersecting 
 angle of the two lines, which is the h’ve. 
 
 as my herbal and catalogues shall one day prove. 
 Ay, I remember you well, young man. You are 
 of the class, mammalia ; order , primates ; genus , 
 homo ; species, Kentucky.” Pausing to smile at 
 his own humor, the naturalist proceeded : “ Since 
 our separation, I have journeyed far, having en- 
 tered into a compactum or agreement with a cer- 
 tain man named Ishmael — ” 
 
 “ Bush ! ” interrupted the impatient and reck- 
 less Paul. “By the Lord, trapper, this is the 
 very bloodletter that Ellen told me of ! ” 
 
 “Then Nelly has not done me credit for what 
 I trust I deserve,” returned the single-minded 
 doctor, “ for I am not of the phlebotomizing 
 school at all; greatly preferring the practice 
 which purifies the blood instead of abstracting it.” 
 
 “ It was a blunder of mine, good stranger ; 
 the girl called you a skilful man.” 
 
 “ Therein she may have exceeded my merits,” 
 Dr. Battius continued, bowing with sufficient 
 meekness. “ But Ellen is a good, and a kind, 
 and a spirited girl, too. A kind and a sweet girl 
 I have ever found Nelly Wade to be ! ” 
 
 “ The devil you have ! ” cried Paul, dropping 
 the morsel he was sucking, from sheer reluctance 
 to abandon the hump, and casting a fierce and 
 direct look into the very teeth of the unconscious 
 physician. “ I reckon, stranger, you have a mind 
 to bag Ellen, too 1 ” 
 
 “ The riches of the whole vegetable and ani- 
 mal world united would not tempt me to harm 
 a hair of her head l I love the childe, with 
 what may be called amor naturalis — or rather 
 palernus — the affection of a father.” 
 
 “ Ay — that, indeed, is more befitting the dif- 
 ference in your years,” Paul coolly rejoined, 
 stretching forth his hand to regain the rejected 
 morsel “ You would be no better than a drone, 
 at your time of day, with a young hive to feed 
 and swarm.” 
 
 “ Yes, there is reason, because there is natur’, 
 in what he says,” observed the trapper; “but, 
 friend, you have said you were a dweller in the 
 camp of one Ishmael Bush ? ” 
 
 “ True ; it is in virtue of a compactum — ” 
 
 “ I know but little of the virtue of packing, 
 though I follow trapping, in my old age, for a 
 livelihood. They tell me that skins are well kept 
 in the new fashion ; but it is long since I have 
 left off killing more than I need for food and gar- 
 ments. I was an eye-witness, myself, of the 
 manner in which the Siouxes broke into your 
 encampment, and drove off the cattle ; stripping 
 the poor man you call Ishmael of his smallest 
 hoofs, counting even the cloven feet.” 
 
 “ Asinus excepted,” muttered the doctor, who 
 
A VAGARY OF NATURE. 
 
 51 
 
 by this time was discussing his portion of the 
 hump, in utter forgetfulness of all its scientific 
 attributes — “minus domeslicus Americanus ex- 
 cepted.” 
 
 “ I am glad to hear that so many of them are 
 saved, though I know not the value of the animals 
 you name; which is nothing uncommon, seeing 
 how long it is that I have been out of the settle- 
 ments. But can you tell me, friend, what the 
 traveller carries under the white cloth he guards 
 with teeth as sharp as a wolf that quarrels for 
 the carcass the hunter has left ? ” 
 
 “You’ve heard of it!” exclaimed the other, 
 dropping the morsel he was conveying to his 
 mouth in manifest surprise. 
 
 “ Nay, I have heard nothing ; but I have seen 
 the cloth, and had like to have been bitten for no 
 greater crime than wishing to know what it cov- 
 ered.” 
 
 “ Bitten ! then, after all, the animal must be 
 carnivorous ! It is too tranquil for the Ursus 
 horridus ; if it were the Canis latrans , the voice 
 would betray it. Nor would Nelly Wade be so 
 familiar with any of the genus Ferce. Venerable 
 hunter! the solitary animal confined in that 
 wagon by day, and in the tent at night, has oc- 
 casioned me more perplexity of mind than the 
 whole catalogue of quadrupeds besides ; and for 
 this plain reason : I did not know how to class 
 it.” 
 
 “ You think it a ravenous beast ? ” 
 
 “ I know it to be a quadruped : your own dan- 
 ger proves it to be carnivorous.” 
 
 During this broken explanation Paul Hover 
 had sat silent and thoughtful, regarding each 
 speaker with deep attention. But, suddenly 
 moved by the manner of the doctor, the latter 
 had scarcely time to utter his positive assertion, 
 before the young man bluntly demanded — 
 
 “ And pray, friend, what may you call a quad- 
 ruped ? ” 
 
 “ A vagary of Nature, wherein she has dis- 
 played less of her infinite wisdom than is usual. 
 Could rotary levers be substituted for two of the 
 limbs, agreeably to the improvement in my new 
 order of phalangacrura, which might be rendered 
 into the vernacular as lever-legged, there would 
 be a delightful perfection and harmony in the 
 construction. But, as the quadruped is now 
 formed, I call it a mere vagary of Nature ; no 
 other than a vagary.” 
 
 “ Harkee, stranger ! in Kentucky we are but 
 small dealers in dictionaries. Vagary is as hard 
 a word to turn into English as quadruped.” 
 
 “ A quadruped is an animal with four legs — a 
 beast.” 
 
 “ A beast ! Do you then reckon that Ishmael 
 Bush travels with a beast caged in that wagon?” 
 
 “ I know it ; and lend me your ear — not lit- 
 erally, friend,” observing Paul to start and look 
 surprised; “but figuratively — through its func- 
 tions, and you shall hear. I have already made 
 known that, in virtue of a compactum, I journey 
 with the aforesaid Ishmael Bush ; but though I am 
 bound to perform certain duties while the journey 
 lasts, there is no condition which says that the 
 journey shall be sempiternum, or eternal. Now, 
 though this region may scarcely be said to be 
 wedded to science, being to all intents a virgin terri- 
 tory as respects the inquirer into natural History, 
 still it is greatly destitute of the treasures of the 
 vegetable kingdom. I should, therefore, have tar- 
 ried some hundreds of miles more to the east- 
 ward, were it not for the inward propensity that I 
 feel to have the beast in question inspected and 
 suitably described and classed. For that matter,” 
 he continued, dropping his voice like one who im- 
 parts an important secret, “ I am not without hopes 
 of persuading Ishmael to let me dissect it.” 
 
 “You have seen the creature ? 
 
 “ Not with the organs of sight ; but with much 
 more infallible instruments of vision : the conclu- 
 sions of reason, and the deductions of scientific 
 premises. I have watched the habits of the ani- 
 mal, young man ; and can fearlessly pronounce, 
 by evidence that would be thrown away on ordi- 
 nary observers, that it is of vast dimensions, inac- 
 tive, possibly torpid, of voracious appetite, and, 
 as it now appears by the direct testimony of this 
 venerable hunter, ferocious and carnivorous ! ” 
 
 “ I should be better pleased, stranger,” said 
 Paul, on whom the doctor’s description was mak- 
 ing a very sensible impression, “to be sure the 
 creature was a beast at all.” 
 
 “ As to that, if I wanted evidence of a fact, 
 which is abundantly apparent by the habits of the 
 animal, I have the word of Ishmael himself. A 
 reason can be given for my smallest deductions. 
 I am not troubled, young man, with a vulgar and 
 idle curiosity, but all my aspirations after knowl- 
 edge, as I humbly believe, are, first, for the ad- 
 vancement of learning, and, secondly, for the bene- 
 fit of my fellow-creatures. I pined greatly in se- 
 cret to know the contents of the tent, which Ish- 
 mael guarded so carefully, and which he had 
 covenanted that I should swear (jurare per dcos ) 
 not to approach nigher than a defined number of 
 cubits for a definite period of time. Your jusju- 
 randum, or oath, is a serious matter, and not to 
 be dealt in lightly; but, as my expedition de- 
 pended on complying, I consented to the act, re- 
 serving to myself at all times the power of distant 
 
52 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 observation. It is now some ten days eince Ish- 
 mael, pitying the state in which he saw me, a 
 humble lover of science, nnpo^d the fact that 
 the vehicle contained a beast, which he was carry- 
 ing into the prairies as a decoy, by which he in- 
 tends to entrap others of the same genus, or per- 
 haps species. Since then my task has been re- 
 duced simply to watch the habits of the animal, 
 and to record the results. When we reach a 
 certain distance, where these beasts are said to 
 abound, I am to have the liberal examination of 
 the specimen.” 
 
 Paul continued to listen, in the most profound 
 silence, until the doctor concluded his singular 
 but characteristic explanation ; then the incredu- 
 lous bee-hunter shook his head, and saw fit to re- 
 ply by saying : 
 
 “ Stranger, old Ishmael has burrowed you in 
 the very bottom of a hollow tree, where your eyes 
 will be of no more use than the sting of a drone. 
 I, top, know something of that very wagon, and I 
 may say that I have lined the squatter down into 
 a flat lie. Harkee, friend ; do you think a girl 
 like Ellen Wade would become the companion of 
 a wild beast ? ” 
 
 “ Why not ? why not ? ” repeated the natu- 
 ralist ; “ Nelly has a taste, and often listens with 
 pleasure to the treasures that I am sometimes 
 compelled to scatter in this desert. Why should 
 she not study the habits of any animal, even 
 though it were a rhinoceros ? ” 
 
 “ Softly, softly,” returned the equally positive, 
 and, though less scientific, certainly on this sub- 
 ject better-instructed bee-hunter ; “ Ellen is a 
 girl of spirit, and one too that knows her own 
 mind, or I’m much mistaken ; but, with all her 
 courage and brave looks, she is no better than a 
 woman after all. Haven’t I often had the girl 
 crying — ” 
 
 “You are an acquaintance, then, of Nelly’s?” 
 
 “The devil a bit. But I know woman is 
 woman ; and all the books in Kentucky couldn’t 
 make Ellen Wade go into a tent alone with a 
 ravenous beast ! ” 
 
 “It seems to me,” the trapper calmly ob- 
 served, “ that there is something dark and hidden 
 in this matter. I am a witness that the traveller 
 likes none to look into the tent, and I have proof 
 more sure than what either of you can lay claim 
 to, that the Wagon does not carry the cage of a 
 beast. Here is Hector, come of a breed with 
 noses as true and faithful as a hand that is all- 
 powerful has made any of their kind, and, had 
 there been a beast in the place, the hound would 
 long since have told it to his master.” 
 
 “ Do you pretend to oppose i dog to a man ? 
 
 brutality to learning ? instinct to reason ? ” ex- 
 claimed the doctor, in some heat. “In what 
 manner, pray, can a hound distinguish the habits, 
 species, or even the genus of an animal, like rea- 
 soning, learned, scientific, triumphant man ? ” 
 
 “ In what manner ! ” coolly repeated the vet- 
 eran woodsman. “ Listen ; and if you believe that 
 a school-master can make a quicker wit than the 
 Lord, you shall be made to see how much you’re 
 mistaken. Do you not hear something move in 
 the brake ? it has been cracking the twigs these 
 five minutes. Now tell me what the creatur’ 
 is ? ” 
 
 “I hope nothing ferocious!” exclaimed the 
 doctor, who still retained a lively impression of 
 his rencounter with the Vespertilio horribilis. 
 “You have rifles, friends; would it not be pru- 
 dent to prime them? for this fowling-piece of 
 mine is little to be depended on.” 
 
 “ There may be reason in what he says,” re- 
 turned the trapper, so far complying as to take 
 his piece from the place where it had lain during 
 the repast, and raising its muzzle in the air. 
 “Now tell me the name of the creatur’ ? ” 
 
 “ It exceeds the limits of earthly knowledge ! 
 Buffon himself could not tell whether the animal 
 was a quadruped, or of the order serpens ! a sheep, 
 or a tiger ! ” 
 
 “ Then was your Buffoon a fool to my Hector ! 
 — Here ; pup ! What is it, dog ? shall we run it 
 down, pup, or shall we let it pass ? ” 
 
 The hound, which had already manifested to 
 the experienced trapper, by the tremulous motion 
 of his ears, his consciousness of the proximity of 
 a strange animal, lifted his head from his fore- 
 paws and slightly parted his lips, as if about to 
 show the remnants of his teeth. But, suddenly 
 abandoning his hostile purpose, he snuffed the air 
 a moment, gaped heavily, shook himself, and 
 peaceably resumed his recumbent attitude. 
 
 “ Now, doctor,” cried the trapper, triumphant- 
 ly, “ I am well convinced there is neither game 
 nor ravenous beast in the thicket ; and that I call 
 substantial knowledge to a man who is too old to 
 be a spendthrift of his strength, and yet who 
 would not wish to be a meal for a panther ! ” 
 
 The dog interrupted his master by a growl, 
 but still kept his head crouched to the earth. 
 
 “ It is a man ! ” exclaimed the trapper, rising. 
 “ It is a man, if I am a judge of the creatur’s 
 ways. There is but little said atwixt the hound 
 and me, but we seldom mistake each other’s 
 meaning ! ” 
 
 Paul Hover sprang to his feet like lightning ; 
 and, throwing forward his rifle, he cried in a voio® 
 of menace : 
 
INTERVIEW WITH A STRANGER. 
 
 53 
 
 “ Come forward if a friend ; if an enemy* 
 stand ready for the worst ! ” 
 
 “ A friend, a white man, and, I hope, a Chris- 
 tian,” returned a voice from the thicket ; which 
 opened at the same instant, and at the next the 
 speaker made his appearance. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 “Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt hear 
 How he will shake me up.” 
 
 As TOU LIKE IT. 
 
 It is well known that, even long before the 
 immense regions of Louisiana changed their mas- 
 ters for the second, and, it is hoped, to be for the 
 last time, its unguarded territory was by no means 
 safe from the inroads of white adventurers. The 
 semi-barbarous hunters from the Canadas, the 
 same description of population, a little more en- 
 lightened, from the States, and the metifs or half- 
 breeds, who claimed to be ranked in the class of 
 white men, were scattered among the different In- 
 dian tribes, or gleaned a scanty livelihood in soli- 
 tude, amid the haunts of the beaver and the bison ; 
 or, to adopt the popular nomenclature of the 
 country — of the buffalo.* 
 
 It was, therefore, no unusual thing for stran- 
 gers to encounter each other in the endless wastes 
 of the west. By signs which an unpractised eye 
 would pass unobserved, a borderer knew when 
 one of his fellows was in hi3 vicinity, and he 
 avoided or approached the intruder as best com- 
 ported with his feelings or his interests. Gener- 
 ally these interviews were pacific ; for the whites 
 had a common enemy to dread, in the ancient and 
 perhaps more lawful occupants of the country; 
 but instances were not rare in which jealousy and 
 cupidity had caused them to terminate in scenes 
 of the most violent and ruthless treachery. The 
 meeting of two hunters on the American Desert, 
 as we find it convenient sometimes to call this re- 
 gion, was consequently somewhat in the suspi- 
 cious and wary manner in which two vessels draw 
 together in a sea that is known to be infested with 
 pirates. While neither party is willing to betray 
 its weakness by exhibiting distrust, neither is dis- 
 posed to commit itself by any acts of confidence, 
 from which it may be difficult to recede. 
 
 Such was, in some degree, the character of the 
 
 * In addition to the scientific distinctions which mark 
 the two species, it may be added, with due reference to Dr. 
 Battius, that a much more important particular is the fact 
 that, while the former of these animals is delicious and nour- 
 ishing food, the latter is scarcely edible. 
 
 present interview. The stranger drew nigh de. 
 liberately ; keeping his eyes steadily fastened on 
 the movements of the other party, while he pur- 
 posely created little difficulties to impede an ap- 
 proach which might prove too hasty. On the 
 other hand, Paul stood playing with the lock 
 of his rifle, too proud to let it appear that 
 three men could manifest any apprehension of a 
 solitary individual, and yet too prudent to omit, 
 entirely, the customary precautions. The princi- 
 pal reason of the marked difference which the two 
 legitimate proprietors of the banquet made in the 
 receptions of their guests, was to be explained by 
 the entire difference which existed in their respec- 
 tive appearances. 
 
 While the exterior of the naturalist was decid- 
 edly pacific, not to say abstracted, that of the new- 
 comer was distinguished by an air of vigor, and a 
 front and step which it would not have been diffi- 
 cult to have at once pronounced to be military. 
 
 He wore a forage-cap of fine blue cloth, from 
 which depended a soiled tassel in gold, and which 
 was nearly buried in a mass of exuberant, curling, 
 jet-black hair. Around his throat he had negli- 
 gently fastened a stock of black silk. His body 
 was enveloped in a hunting-shirt of dark green, 
 trimmed with the yellow fringes and ornaments 
 that were sometimes seen among the border- 
 troops of the Confederacy. Beneath this, how- 
 ever, were visible the collar and lappels of a jack- 
 et, similar in color and cloth to the cap. His 
 lower limbs were protected by buckskin leggings, 
 and his feet by the ordinary Indian moccasins. 
 A richly-ornamented and exceedingly dangerous 
 straight dirk was stuck in a sash o t red-silk net- 
 work ; another girdle, or rather belt, of uncolored 
 leather contained a pair of the smallest-sized pis* 
 tols, in holsters nicely made to fit, and across his 
 shoulder was thrown a short, heavy military rifle ; 
 its horn and pouch occupying the usual places be- 
 neath his arms. At his back he bore a knapsack, 
 marked by the well-known initials that have since 
 gained for the Government of the United States 
 the good-humored and quaint appellation of Un- 
 cle Sam. 
 
 “ I come in amity,” the stranger said, like one 
 too much accustomed to the sight of arms to be 
 startled at the ludicrously belligerent attitude 
 which Dr. Battius had seen fit to assume — “I 
 come as a friend ; and am one whose pursuits and 
 wishes will not at all interfere with your own.” 
 
 “ Harkee, stranger,” Said Paul Hover, bluntly ; 
 “ do you understand lining a bee from this open 
 place into a wood, distant, perhaps a dozen miles ? ” 
 
 “ The bee is a bird I have never been compelled 
 to seek,” returned the other, laughing ; “ though 
 
54 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 I have, too, been something of a fowler in my 
 time.” 
 
 “ I thought as much,” exclaimed Paul, thrust- 
 ing forth his hand frankly, and with the true free- 
 dom of manner that marks an American borderer. 
 “Let us cross fingers. You and I will never 
 quarrel about the comb, since you set so little 
 store by the honey. And now, if your stomach 
 has an empty corner, and you know how to relish 
 a genuine dew-drop when it falls into your very 
 mouth, there lies the exact morsel to put into it. 
 Try it, stranger; and, having tried it, if you don’t 
 call it as snug a fit as you have made since — 
 How long are you from the settlements, pray ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis many weeks, and I fear it may be as 
 many more before I can return. I will, however, 
 gladly profit by your invitation, for I have fasted 
 since the rising of yesterday’s sun, and I know too 
 well the merits of abison’s hump to reject the food.” 
 
 “ Ah ! you are acquainted with the dish I 
 Well, therein you have the start of me, in setting 
 out, though I think I may say we could now start 
 on equal ground. I should be the happiest fellow 
 between Kentucky and the Rocky Mountains, if 
 I had a snug cabin, near some old wood that was 
 filled with hollow trees, just such a hump every 
 day as that for dinner, a load of fresh straw for 
 hives, and little El — ” 
 
 “ Little what ? ” demanded the stranger, evi- 
 dently amused with the communicative and frank 
 disposition of the bee-hunter. 
 
 “ Something that I shall have one day, and 
 which concerns nobody so much as myself,” re- 
 turned Paul, picking the flint of his rifle, and 
 beginning very cavalierly to whistle an air well 
 known on the waters of the Mississippi. 
 
 During this prelitninai’y discourse the stranger 
 had taken his seat by the side of the hump, and 
 was already making a serious inroad on its relics. 
 Dr. Battius, however, watched his movements 
 with a jealousy still more striking than the cordial 
 reception which the open-hearted Paul had just 
 exhibited. 
 
 But the doubts, or rather apprehensions, of 
 the naturalist were of a character' altogether dif- 
 ferent from the confidence of the bee-hunter. 
 He had been struck with the stranger’s using the 
 legitimate instead of the perverted name of the 
 animal off* which he was making his repast ; and 
 as he had been among the foremost himself to 
 profit by the removal of the impediments which 
 the policy of Spain had placed in the way of all 
 explorers of her transatlantic dominions, whether 
 bent on the purposes of commerce, or, like him- 
 self, on the more laudable pursuits of science, 
 he had a sufficiency of every-day philosophy to feel 
 
 that the same motives which had so powerfully 
 urged himself to his present undertaking might 
 produce a like result on the mind of some other 
 student of Nature. Here, then, was the prospect 
 of an alarming rivalry, which bade fair to strip 
 him of at least a moiety of the just rewards of all 
 his labors, privations, and dangers. Under these 
 views of his character, therefore, it is not at all 
 surprising that the native meekness of the nat- 
 uralist’s disposition was a little disturbed, and 
 that he watched the proceedings of the other 
 with such a degree of vigilance as he believed 
 best suited to detect his sinister designs. 
 
 “ This is truly a delicious repast,” observed 
 the unconscious young stranger, for both young 
 and handsome he was fairly entitled to be con- 
 sidered; “either hunger has given a peculiar 
 relish to the viand, or the bison may lay claim to 
 be the finest of the ox family ! ” 
 
 “ Naturalists, sir, are apt, w r hen they speak 
 familiarly, to give the cow the credit of the genus,” 
 said Dr. Battius, swelling with secret distrust, and 
 clearing his throat before speaking, much in the 
 manner that a duellist examines the point of the 
 weapon he is about to plunge into the body of 
 his foe. “ The figure is more perfect ; as the bos , 
 meaning the ox, is unable to perpetuate his kind ; 
 and the bos, in its most extended meaning, or 
 vacca y is altogether the nobler animal of the two.” 
 
 The doctor uttered this opinion with a cer- 
 tain air, that he intended should express bis readi- 
 ness to come, at once, to any of the numerous 
 points of difference which he doubted not existed 
 between them ; and he now awaited the blow of 
 his antagonist, intending that his next thrust 
 should be still more vigorous. But the young 
 stranger appeared much better disposed to par- 
 take of the good cheer with which he had been pro- 
 videntially provided, than to take up the cudgels 
 of argument on this or on any other of the knotty 
 points which are so apt to furnish the lovers of 
 science with the materials of a mental joust. 
 
 “ I dare say you are very right, sir,” he re- 
 plied, with a most provoking indifference to the 
 importance of the points he conceded. “ I dare 
 say you are quite right ; and that vacca would 
 have been the better word.” 
 
 “ Pardon me, sir ; you are giving a very 
 wrong construction to my language, if you suppose 
 I include, without many and particular quali- 
 fications, the Bibulus Americanus , in the family 
 of the vacca. For, as you well know, sir — or, as 
 I presume I should say, doctor — you have the 
 medical diploma, no doubt ? ” 
 
 “You give me credit for an honor I cannot 
 claim,” interrupted the other. 
 
CAPTAIN MIDDLETON. 
 
 55 
 
 “ An under-graduate ! — or perhaps your de- 
 grees have been taken in some other of the lib- 
 eral sciences ? ” 
 
 “ Still wrong, I do assure you.” 
 
 “ Surely, young man, you have not entered on 
 this important — I may say, this awful service, 
 without some evidence of your fitness for the task ! 
 some commission by which you can assert an au- 
 thority to proceed, or by which you may claim an 
 affinity and a communion with your fellow-work- 
 ers in the same beneficent pursuits ! ” 
 
 “ I know not by what means, or for what pur- 
 poses, you have made yourself master of my ob- 
 jects ! ” exclaimed the youth, reddening and ris- 
 ing with a quickness which manifested how little 
 he regarded the. grosser appetites, when a subject 
 nearer his heart was approached. “Still, sir, 
 your language is incomprehensible. That pursuit, 
 which in another might perhaps be justly called 
 beneficent, is, in me, a dear and cherished duty ; 
 though why a commission should be demanded 
 or needed is, I confess, no less a subject of sur- 
 prise.” 
 
 “ It is customary to be provided with such a 
 document,” returned the doctor, gravely ; “ and, 
 on all suitable occasions, to produce it, in order 
 that congenial and friendly minds may at once 
 reject unworthy suspicions, and, stepping over 
 what may be called the elements of discourse, 
 come at once to those points which are desiderata 
 to both.” 
 
 “ It is a strange request ! ” the youth muttered, 
 turning his frowning eye from one to the other, 
 as if examining the characters of his companions, 
 with a view to weigh their physical powers. Then, 
 putting his hand into his bosom, he drew forth a 
 small box, and, extending it with an air of dignity 
 toward the doctor, he continued : “ You will find 
 by this, sir, that I have some right to travel in a 
 country which is now the property of the Ameri- 
 can States.” 
 
 “ What have we here ? ” exclaimed the natu- 
 ralist, opening the folds of a large parchment, 
 “Why, this is the sign-manual of the philosopher 
 Jefferson ! The seal of state ! Countersigned by 
 the minister of war ! Why, this is a commission 
 creating Duncan Uncas Middleton a captain of 
 artillery ! ” 
 
 “ Of whom ? of whom ? ” repeated the trapper, 
 who had sat regarding the stranger, during the 
 whole discourse, with eyes that seemed greedily to 
 devour each lineament. “ How is the name ? did 
 you call him Uncas ? — Uncas ! Was it Uncas ? ” 
 
 “ Such is my name,” returned the youth, a 
 little haughtily. “ It is the appellation of a native 
 chief, that both my uncle and myself bear with 
 
 pride ; for it is the memorial of an important ser- 
 vice done my family by a warrior in the old wars 
 of the provinces.” 
 
 “ Uncas ! did ye call him Uncas ? ” repeated 
 the trapper, approaching the youth and parting 
 the dark curls which clustcied over his brow, 
 without the slightest resistance on the part of 
 their wondering owner. “ Ah ! my eyes are old, 
 and not so keen as when I was a warrior myself; 
 but I can see the look of the father in the son ! 
 I saw it when he first came nigh ; but, so many 
 things have since passed before my failing sight, 
 that I could not name the place where I had met 
 his likeness ! Tell me, lad, by what name is your 
 father known ? ” 
 
 “ He was an officer of the States in the war 
 of the Revolution, and of my own name of course ; 
 my mother’s brother was called Duncan Uncas 
 Heyward.” 
 
 “ Still Uncas ! still Uncas ! ” echoed the other, 
 trembling with eagerness. “ And his father ? ” 
 
 “ Was called the same, without the appellation 
 of the native chief. It was to him, and to my 
 grandmother, that the service of which I have just 
 spoken was rendered.” 
 
 “ I know’d it ! I know’d it ! ” shouted the 
 old man, in his tremulous voice, his rigid features 
 working powerfully, as if the names the other 
 mentioned awakened some long-dormant emotions 
 connected with the events of an anterior age. “ I 
 know’d it ! son or grandson, 'it is all the same ; 
 it is the blood, and ’tis the look ! Tell me, is he 
 they called Duncan, without the Uncas — is he liv- 
 ing? ” 
 
 The young man shook his head sorrowfully, 
 as he replied in the negative. 
 
 “ He died full of days and of honors. Beloved, 
 happy, and bestowing happiness ! ” 
 
 “ Full of days ! ” repeated the trapper, looking 
 down at his own meagre but still muscular hands. 
 “ Ah ! he lived in the settlements, and was wise 
 only after their fashions. But you have often 
 seen him ; and you have heard him discourse of 
 Uncas, and of the wilderness ? ” 
 
 “ Often ! he was then an officer of the king ; 
 but, when the war took place between the crown 
 and her colonies, my grandfather did not forget 
 his birthplace, but threw off the empty allegiance 
 of names, and was true to his proper country ; he 
 fought on the side of liberty.” 
 
 “ There was reason in it, and, what is better, 
 there was natur’ ! Come, sit ye down, and tell 
 me what your grand’ther used to speak when his 
 mind dwelt on the wonders of the wilderness.” 
 
 The youth smiled, no less at the importunity 
 than at the interest manifested by the old man 
 
56 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 but, as he found there was no longer the least ap- 
 pearance of any violence being contemplated, he 
 unhesitatingly complied. 
 
 “ Give it all to the trapper, by rule, and by 
 figures of speech,” said Paul, very coolly taking 
 his seat on the other side of the young soldier. 
 “ It is the fashion of old age to relish these ancient 
 traditions, and for that matter I can say that I 
 don’t dislike to listen to them myself.” 
 
 Middleton smiled again, and perhaps with a 
 slight air of derision ; but, good-naturedly turning 
 to the trapper, he continued : 
 
 “ It is a long, and might prove a painful story. 
 Bloodshed and all the horrors of Indian cruelty 
 and of Indian warfare are fearfully mingled in the 
 narrative.” 
 
 “Ay, give it all to us, stranger,” continued 
 Paul ; “we are used to these matters in Kentuck, 
 and I must say I think a story none the worse for 
 having a few scalps in it.” 
 
 “ But he told you of Uncas, did he ? ” resumed 
 the trapper, without regarding the slight inter- 
 ruptions of the bee-hunter, which amounted to no 
 more than a sort of by-play. “ And what thought 
 he and said he of the lad, in his parlor, with the 
 comforts and ease of the settlements at his 
 elbow ? ” 
 
 “ I doubt not he used a language similar to 
 that he would have adopted in the woods, and 
 had he stood face to face with his friend — ” 
 
 “Did he call the savage his friend; the poor, 
 naked, painted warrior ? He was not too proud, 
 then, to call the Indian his friend? ” 
 
 “ He even boasted of the connection ; and, as 
 you have already heard, bestowed a name on his 
 first-born, which is likely to be handed down as 
 an heir-loom among the rest of his descendants.” 
 
 “ It was well done ! like a man ; ay ! and like 
 a Christian, too ? He used to say the Delaware 
 was swift of foot — did he remember that ? ” 
 
 “ As the antelope ! Indeed, he often spoke 
 of him by the appellation of Le Cerf Agile, a name 
 he had obtained by his activity.” 
 
 “ And bold, and fearless, lad ! ” continued the 
 trapper, looking into the eyes of his companion, 
 with a wistfulness that bespoke . the delight he 
 received in listening to the praises of one whom 
 it was so very evident he had once tenderly 
 loved. 
 
 “ Brave as a blooded hound ! Without fear ! 
 He always quoted Uncas and his father, who from 
 his wisdom was called the Great Serpent, as 
 models of heroism and constancy.” 
 
 “He did them justice! he did them justice! 
 Truer men were not to be found in tribe or nation, 
 be their skins of what color they might. I see 
 
 your grand’ ther was just, and did his duty, too, 
 by his offspring ! ’Twas a perilous time he had 
 of it, among them hills, and nobly did he play his 
 own part ! Tell me, lad, or officer, I should say, 
 — since officer you be — was this all ? ” 
 
 “ Certainly not ; it was, as I have said, a fear- 
 ful tale full of moving incidents, and the memo- 
 ries both of my grandfather and of my grand- 
 mother — ” 
 
 “ Ah ! ” exclaimed the trapper, tossing a hand 
 into the air as his whole countenance lighted with 
 the recollections the name revived. “ They called 
 her Alice ! Elsie or Alice ; ’tis all the same. A 
 laughing, playful child she was, when happy ; and 
 tender and weeping in her misery ! Her hair was 
 shining and yellow, as the coat of the young fawn, 
 and her skin clearer than the purest water that 
 drips from the rock. Well do I remember her! 
 I remember her right well ! ” 
 
 The lip of the youth slightly curled, and he 
 regarded the old man with an expression which 
 might easily have been construed into a declara- 
 tion that such were not his own recollections ol 
 his venerable and revered ancestor, though it 
 would seem he did not think it necessary to say 
 as much in words. He was content to answer : 
 
 “ They both retained impressions of the dan- 
 gers they had passed, by far too vivid easily tc 
 lose the recollection of any of their fellow- 
 actors.” 
 
 The trapper looked aside, and seemed to 
 struggle with some deeply innate feeling; then, 
 turning again toward his companion, though his 
 honest eyes no longer dwelt with the same open 
 interest as before, on the countenance of the 
 other, he continued : 
 
 “ Did he tell you of them all ? Were they all 
 red-skins, but himself and the daughters of 
 Munro ? ” 
 
 “No. There was a white man associated 
 with the Delawares. A scout of the English 
 army, but a native of the provinces.” 
 
 “ A drunken, worthless vagabond, like most 
 of his color who harbor with the savages, I war- 
 rant you ! ” 
 
 “ Old man, your gray hairs should caution you 
 against slander. The man I speak of was of 
 great simplicity of mind, but of sterling worth. 
 Unlike most of those who live a border life, he 
 united the better instead of the worst qualities 
 of the two people. He was a man endowed with 
 the choicest and perhaps rarest gift of Nature— 
 that of distinguishing good from evil. His vir 
 tues were those of simplicity, because such were 
 the fruits of his habits, as were indeed his very 
 prejudices. In courage he was the equal of hia 
 
THE TRAPPER IN HIS EARLIER DAYS. 
 
 57 
 
 red associates ; in warlike skill, being better in- 
 structed, tbeir superior. ‘ In short, he was a 
 noble shoot from the stock of human nature, 
 which never could attain its proper elevation and 
 importance, for no other reason than because it 
 grew in the forest : ’ such, old hunter, were the 
 very words of my grandfather, when speaking of 
 the man you imagine so worthless ! ” 
 
 The eyes of the trapper had sunk to the 
 earth, as the stranger delivered this character in 
 the ardent tones of generous youth. He played 
 with the ears of his hound, fingered his own rus- 
 tic garment, and opened and shut the pan of his 
 rifle, with hands that trembled in a manner that 
 would have implied their total unfitness to wield 
 the weapon. When the other had concluded, he 
 hoarsely added : 
 
 “ Your grand’ther didn’t, then, entirely forget 
 the white man l ” 
 
 “So far from that, there are already three 
 among us who have also names derived from that 
 scout.” 
 
 “A name, did you say?” exclaimed the old 
 man, starting ; “ what, the name of the solitary, 
 unl’arned hunter? Do the great, and the rich, 
 and the honored, and, what is better still, the 
 just, do they bear his very, actual name? ” 
 
 “It is borne by my brother, and by two of 
 my cousins, whatever may be their titles to be 
 described by the terms you have mentioned.” 
 
 “Do you mean the actual name itself; spelt 
 with the very same letters, beginning with an N 
 and ending with an L ? ” 
 
 “Exactly the same,” the youth smilingly 
 replied. “No, no, we have forgotten nothing 
 that was his. I have at this moment a dog 
 brushing a deer, not far from this, who is come 
 of a hound that very scout sent as a present after 
 his friends, and which was of the stock he always 
 used himself ; a truer breed, in nose and foot, is 
 not to be found in the wide Union.” 
 
 “Hector!” said the old man, struggling to 
 conquer an emotion that nearly suffocated him, 
 and speaking to his hound in the sort of tones 
 he would have used to a child, “ do ye hear that, 
 pup ! your kin and blood are in the prairies ! A 
 name — it is wonderful — very wonderful ! ” 
 
 Nature could endure no more. Overcome by 
 a flood of unusual and extraordinary sensations, 
 and stimulated by tender and long-dormant recol- 
 lections, strangely and unexpectedly revived, the 
 old man had just self-command enough to add, 
 in a voice that was hollow and unnatural, through 
 the efforts he made to command it : 
 
 “Boy, I am that scout; a warrior once, a 
 miserable trapper now ! ” when the tears broke 
 56 
 
 over his wasted cheeks, out of fountains that had 
 long been dried, and, sinking his face between his 
 knees, he covered it decently with his buckskin 
 garment, and sobbed aloud. 
 
 The spectacle produced correspondent emo- 
 tions in his companions. Paul Hover had ac- 
 tually swallowed each syllable of the discourse as 
 they fell alternately from the different speakers, 
 his feelings keeping equal pace with the increas- 
 ing interest of the scene. Unused to such strange 
 sensations, he was turning his face on every side 
 of him, to avoid he knew not what, until he saw 
 the tears and heard the sobs of the old man, 
 when he sprang to his feet, and, grappling his 
 guest fiercely by the throat, he demanded by 
 what authority he had made his aged companion 
 weep. A flash of recollection crossing his brain 
 at the same instant, he released his hold, and, 
 stretching forth an arm in the very wantonness 
 of gratification, he seized the doctor by the hair, 
 which instantly revealed its artificial formation, 
 by cleaving to his hand, leaving the white and 
 shining poll of the naturalist with a covering no 
 warmer than the skin. 
 
 “ What think you of that, Mr. Bug-gatherer ? ” 
 he rather shouted than cried ; “ is not this a 
 strange bee to line into his hole ? ” 
 
 “ ’Tis remarkable ! wonderful ! edifying ! ” 
 •returned the lover of Nature, good-humoredly re- 
 covering his wig, with twinkling eyes and a husky 
 voice. “ ’Tis rare and commendable ! Though I 
 doubt not in the exact order of causes and 
 effects.” 
 
 With this sudden outbreaking, however, the 
 commotion instantly subsided, the three specta- 
 tors clustering around the trapper with a species 
 of awe at beholding the tears of one so aged. 
 
 “ It must be so, or how could he be so familiar 
 with a history that is little known beyond my 
 own family,” at length the youth observed, not 
 ashamed to acknowledge how much he had been 
 affected by unequivocally drying his own eyes. 
 
 “ True ! ” echoed Paul ; “ if you want any 
 more evidence I will swear to it ! I know every 
 word of it myself to be true as the gospel ! ” 
 
 “ And yet we had long supposed him dead ! ” 
 continued the soldier. “My grandfather had 
 filled his days with honor, and he had believed 
 himself the junior of the two.” 
 
 “ It is not often that youth has an opportu- 
 nity of thus looking down on the weakness of 
 age ! ” the trapper observed, raising his head, 
 and looking around him with composure and 
 dignity. “ That I am still here, young man, is the 
 pleasure of the Lord, who has spared me until I 
 have seen fourscore long and laborious years, for 
 
58 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 his own secret ends. That I am the ruan I say, 
 you need not doubt ; for why should I go to my 
 grave with so cheap a lie in my mouth ? ” 
 
 “ I do not hesitate to believe ; I only marvel 
 that it should be so ! But why do I find you, 
 venerable and excellent friend of my parents, 
 in these wastes, so far from the comforts and 
 safety of the lower country ? ” 
 
 “ I have come into these plains to escape the 
 sound of the axe; for here, surely, the chopper 
 can never follow ! Bet I may put the like ques- 
 tion to yourself. Are you of the party which the 
 States have sent into their new purchase, to look 
 after the natur’ of the bargain they have made ? ” 
 “ I am not. Lewis is making his way up the 
 river, some hundreds of miles from this. I come 
 on a private adventure.” 
 
 “ Though it is no cause of wonder that a man 
 whose strength and eyes have failed him as a 
 hunter, should be seen nigh the haunts of the 
 beaver, using a trap instead of a rifle, it is strange 
 that one so young and prosperous, and bearing 
 the commission of the Great Father, should be 
 moving among the prairies, without even a camp- 
 colorman to do his biddings ! ” 
 
 “You would think my reasons sufficient did 
 you know them, as know them you shall, if you 
 are disposed to listen to my story. I think you 
 all honest, and men who would rather aid than 
 betray one bent on a worthy object.” 
 
 “Gome, then, and tell us at your leisure,” 
 said the trapper, seating himself, and beckoning 
 to the youth to follow his example. The latter 
 willingly complied; and, after Paul and the doc- 
 tor had disposed of themselves to their several 
 likings, the new-comer entered into a narrative of 
 the singular reasons which had led him so far 
 into the deserts. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 “ Bo foul a sky clears not without a storm.’ 
 
 King John. 
 
 In the mean time the industrious and irreclaim- 
 able hours continued their labors. The sun, 
 which had been struggling through such masses of 
 vapor throughout the day, fell slowly into a streak 
 of clear sky, and thence sank gloriously into the 
 gloomy wastes, as he is wont to settle into the 
 waters of the ocean. The vast herds which had 
 been grazing among the wild pastures of the 
 prairies, gradually disappeared, and the endless 
 Socks of aquatic birds, that were pursuing their 
 customary annual journey from the virgin lakes 
 
 of the north toward the Gulf of Mexico, ceased 
 to fan that air which had now become loaded 
 with dew and vapor. In short, the shadows of 
 night fell upon the rock, adding the mantle of 
 darkness to the other dreary accompaniments of 
 the place. 
 
 As the light began to fail, Esther collected 
 her younger children at her side, and placing her- 
 self on a projecting point of her insulated for- 
 tress, she sat patiently aivaiting the return of the 
 hunters. Ellen Wade was at no great distance, 
 seeming to keep a little aloof from the anxious 
 circle, as if willing to mark the distinction which 
 existed in their characters. 
 
 “ Your uncle is, and always will be, a dull 
 calculator, Nell,” observed the mother, after a 
 long pause in a conversation that had turned on 
 the labors of the day ; “ a lazy hand at figures 
 and foreknowledge is that said Ishmael Bush ! 
 Here he sat lolloping about the rock from light 
 till noon, doing nothing but scheme — scheme — 
 scheme — with seven as noble boys at his elbows 
 as woman ever gave to man ; and what’s the up- 
 shot ? Why, night is setting in, and his needful 
 work not yet ended.” 
 
 “ It is not prudent, certainly, aunt,” Ellen 
 replied, with a vacancy in her air, that proved 
 how little she knew what she was saying ; “ ana 
 it is setting a very bad example to his sons.” 
 
 “ Hoity toity, girl ! who has reared you up a 
 a judge over your elders, ay, and your betters, 
 too ! I should like to see the man on the whole 
 frontier who sets a more honest example to his 
 children than this same Ishmael Bush ! Show 
 me, if you can, Miss Fault-finder, but not fault- 
 mender, a set of boys who will, on occasion, 
 sooner chop a piece of logging and dress it for 
 the crop, than my own children ; though I say it 
 myself, who, perhaps, should be silent; or a 
 cradler that knows better how to lead a gang oi 
 hands though a field of wheat, leaving a cleaner 
 stubble in his track, than my own good man! 
 Then, as a father, he is as generous as a lord ; for 
 his sons have only to name the spot where they 
 would like to pitch, and he gives ’em a deed of 
 the plantation, and no charge for papers is ever 
 made ! ” 
 
 As the wife of the squatter concluded, she 
 raised a hollow, taunting laugh, that was echoed 
 from the mouths of several juvenile imitators, 
 whom she was training to a life as shiftless and 
 lawless as her own; but which, notwithstanding 
 its uncertainty, was not without its secret charms. 
 
 “ Holloa ! old Eester,” shouted the well-known 
 voice of her husband, from the plain beneatn 
 “ ar’ you keeping your junkets, while we an 
 
ISHMAEL’S CITADEL. 
 
 59 
 
 finding you in venison and buffalo-beef? Come 
 down — come down, old girl, with all your young, 
 and lend us a hand to carry up the meat ; why, 
 what a frolic you ar’ in, woman ! Come down, 
 come down, for the boys are at hand, and we have 
 woi k here for double your number.” 
 
 Ishmacl might have spared his lungs more 
 than a moiety of the effort they were compelled 
 to make in order that he should be heard. He 
 had hardly uttered the name of his wife, before 
 the whole of the crouching circle rose in a body, 
 and, tumbling over each other, they precipitated 
 themselves down the dangerous passes of the 
 rock with ungovernable impatience. Esther fol- 
 lowed the young fry with a more measured gait ; 
 nor did Ellen deem it wise, or rather discreet, to 
 remain behind. Consequently, the whole were 
 soon assembled at the base of the citadel, on the 
 open plain. 
 
 Here the squatter was found, staggering under 
 the weight of a fine, fat buck, attended by one or 
 two of his younger sons. Abiram quickly ap- 
 peared, and, before many minutes had elapsed, 
 most of the hunters dropped in, singly and in 
 pairs, each man bringing with him some fruits 
 of his prowess in the field. 
 
 “The plain is free from red-skins, to-night at 
 least,” said Ishmael, after the bustle of reception 
 had a little subsided ; “ for I have scoured the 
 prairie for many long miles, on my own feet, and 
 I call mv&elf a judge of the print of an Indian 
 moccasin. So, old woman, you can give us a 
 few steaks of the venison, and then we will sleep 
 on the day’s work.” 
 
 “ I’ll not swear there are no savages near us,” 
 said Abiram. “I, too, know something of the I 
 trail of a red-skin ; and, unless my eyes have lost 
 some of their sight, I would swear, boldly, that 
 there ar’ Indians at hand. But wait till Asa 
 comes in. He passed the spot where I found the 
 marks, and the boy knows something of such mat- 
 ters, too.” 
 
 “ Ay, the boy knows too much of many things,” 
 returned Ishmael, gloomily. “ It will be better 
 for him w r hen he thinks he knows less. — But 
 what matters it, Hetty, if all the Sioux tribes 
 west of the big river are within a mile of us ? they 
 will find it no easy matter to scale this rock in 
 the teeth of ten bold men.” 
 
 “ Call ’em twelve at once, Ishmael ; call ’em 
 twelre ! ” cried his termagant assistant. “ Eor if 
 your moth-gathering, bug-hunting friend can be 
 counted a man, I beg you will set me down as 
 two. I will not turn my back to him with the 
 rifle or the shot-gun ; and for courage ! — the 
 yearling heifer, that them skulking devils the 
 
 Tetons stole, was the biggest coward among us 
 all, and after her came your drivelling doctor 
 Ah ! Ishmael, you rarely attempt a regular trade 
 but you come out the loser; and this man, I 
 reckon, is the hardest bargain among them all ! 
 Would you think it, the fellow ordered me a 
 blister around my mouth, because I complained 
 of a pain in the foot ? ” 
 
 “ It is a pity, Eester,”' the husband coolly an- 
 swered, “that you did not take it; I reckon that 
 it would have done considerable good. — But, boys 
 if it should turn out as Abiram thinks, that there 
 are Indians near us, we may have to scamper up 
 the rock, and lose our suppers, after all ; therefore, 
 we will make sure of the game, and talk over the 
 performances of the doctor when we have nothing 
 better to do.” 
 
 The hint was taken ; and in a few minutes the 
 exposed situation in which the family was col- 
 lected, was exchanged for the more secure eleva- 
 tion of the rock. Here Esther busied herself, 
 working and scolding with equal industry, until 
 the repast was prepared ; when she summoned 
 her husband to his meal in a voice as sonorous as 
 that with which the imaum reminds the faithful 
 of a more important duty, 
 
 When each had assumed his proper and cus- 
 tomary place around the smoking viands, the squat- 
 ter set the example by beginning to partake of a dc- 
 liciou svenison-steak, prepared like the hump of the 
 bison, with a skill that rather increased than con- 
 cealed its natural properties. A painter would 
 gladly have seized the moment to transfer the wild 
 and charateristic scene to the canvas. 
 
 The reader will remember that the citadel of 
 Ishmael stood insulated, lofty, ragged, and nearly 
 inaccessible. A bright, flashing fire that was 
 burning on the centre of its summit, and around 
 which the busy group was clustered, lent it the 
 appearance of some tall Pharos placed in the cen- 
 tre of the deserts, to light such adventurers as 
 wandered through their broad wastes. The flash- 
 ing flame gleamed from one sunburnt counte- 
 nance to another, exhibiting every variety of ex- 
 pression, from the juvenile simplicity of the chil- 
 dren, mingled, as it was, with a shade of the wild- 
 ness peculiar to their semi-barbarous lives, to the 
 dull and immovable apathy that dwelt on the feat- 
 ures of the squatter when unexcited. Occasionally 
 a gust of wind wmuld fan the embers ; and, as a 
 brighter light shot upward, the little solitary tent 
 wms seen as it were suspended in the gloom of the 
 upper air. All beyond was enveloped, as usual at 
 that hour, in an impenetrable body of darkness. 
 
 “ It is unaccountable that Asa should choose 
 to be out of the way at such a time as this,” Eg- 
 
60 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 fcher pettishly observed. “ When all is finished 
 and to rights, we shall have the boy coming up, 
 grumbling for his meal, and hungry as a bear 
 after his winters nap. His stomach is as true as 
 the best clock in Kentucky, and seldom wants 
 winding up to tell the time whether of day or 
 night. A desperate eater is Asa, when a-hun- 
 gered by a little work ! ” 
 
 Ishmael looked sternly around the circle of his 
 silent sons, as if to see whether any among them 
 would presume to say aught in favor of the absent 
 delinquent. But now, when no exciting causes ex- 
 isted to rouse their slumbering tempers, it seemed 
 to be too great an effort to enter on the defence 
 of their rebellious brother. Abiram, however, 
 who, since the pacification, either felt or affected 
 to feel a more generous interest in his late adver- 
 sary, saw fit to express an anxiety to which the 
 others were strangers : 
 
 “ It will be well if the boy escaped the Te- 
 tons ! ” he muttered. “ I should be sorry to have 
 Asa, who is one of the stoutest of our party, both 
 in heart and hand, fall into the power of the red 
 devils.” 
 
 “ Look to yourself, Abiram ; and spare your 
 breath, if you can use it only to frighten the wom- 
 an and her huddling girls. You have whitened 
 the face of Ellen Wade, already ; who looks as 
 pale as if she was staring to-day at the very In- 
 dians you name, when I was forced to speak to 
 her through the rifle, because I couldn’t reach her 
 ears with my tongue. — How was it, Nell ? you 
 have never given the reason of your deafness? ” 
 
 The color of Ellen’s cheek changed as sudden- 
 ly as the squatter’s piece had flashed on the occa- 
 sion to which he alluded, the burning glow suffus- 
 ing her features, until it even mantled her throat 
 with its fine, healthful tinge. She bung her head 
 abashed, but did not seem to think it needful to 
 reply. 
 
 Ishmael, too sluggish to pursue the subject, 
 or content with the pointed allusion he had just 
 made, rose from his seat on the rock, and, stretch- 
 ing his heavy frame, like a well-fed and fattened 
 ox, he announced his intention to sleep. Among 
 a race who lived chiefly for the indulgence of the 
 natural wants, such a declaration could not fail of 
 meeting with sympathetic dispositions. One after 
 another disappeared, each seeking his or her rude 
 dormitory ; and, before many minutes, Esther, 
 who by this time had scolded the younger fry to 
 sleep, found herself, if we except the usual watch- 
 man below, in solitary possession of the naked 
 rock. 
 
 IVhatever less valuable fruits had been pro- 
 duced in this uneducated woman by her migratory 
 
 habits, the great principle of female nature was 
 too deeply rooted ever to be entirely eradicated. 
 Of a powerful, not to say fierce temperament, hei 
 passions were violent and difficult to be smoth- 
 ered. But, however she might and did abuse the 
 accidental prerogatives of her situation, love for 
 her offspring, while it often slumbered, could nev- 
 er be said to become extinct. She liked not the 
 protracted absence of Asa. Too fearless herself 
 to have hesitated an instant on her own account 
 about crossing the dark abyss, into which she now 
 sat looking with longing eyes, her busy imagina- 
 tion, in obedience to tljis inextinguishable senti- 
 ment, began to conjure nameless evils on account 
 of her son. It might be true, as Abiram had 
 hinted, that he had become a captive to some of 
 the tribes who were hunting the buffalo in that 
 vicinity, or even a still more dreadful calamity 
 might have befallen. So thought the mother, 
 while silence and darkness lent their aid to the se- 
 cret impulses of Nature. 
 
 Agitated by these reflections, which put sleep 
 at defiance, Esther continued at her post, listen- 
 ing with that sort of acuteness which is termed in- 
 stinct in the animals a few degrees below her in 
 the scale of intelligence, for any of those noises 
 which might indicate the approach of footsteps. 
 At length, her wishes had an appearance of being 
 realized, for the long-desired sounds were distinct- 
 ly audible, and presently she distinguished the dim 
 form of a man at the base of the rock. 
 
 “ Now, Asa, richly do you deserve to be left 
 with an earthen bed this blessed night ! ” the wom- 
 an began to mutter, with a revolution in her feel- 
 ings that will not be surprising to those who have 
 made the contradictions that give variety to the 
 human character a study. “ And a hard one I’ve 
 a mind it shall be ! Why, Abner ! Abner ; you 
 Abner! do you sleep ? Let me not see you dare 
 to open the hole till I get down. I will know who it 
 is that wishes to disturb a peaceable, ay, and an hon- 
 est family too, at such a time in the night as this ! ” 
 
 “ Woman ! ” exclaimed a voice, that intended to 
 bluster, while the speaker was manifestly a little 
 apprehensive of the consequences — “ woman, I 
 forbid you on pain of the law to project any of 
 your infernal missiles. I am a citizen, and a free- 
 holder, and a graduate of two universities ; and I 
 stand upon my rights ! Beware of malice pre- 
 pense, of chance-medley, and of manslaughter. It 
 is I— your amicus ; a friend and inmate. I — Dr. 
 Obed Battius.” 
 
 “ Who ? ” demancred Esther, in a voice that 
 nearly refused to convey her words to the ears of 
 the anxious listener beneath. “ Did you say it wa» 
 not Asa ? ” 
 
MRS. BUSH AND TIIE DOCTOR. 
 
 61 
 
 “ Nay, I am neither Asa, nor Absalom, nor any 
 of the Hebrew princes, but Obed, the root and 
 stock of them all. Have I not said, woman, that 
 you keep one in attendance who is entitled to a 
 peaceable as well as an honorable admission ? Do 
 you take me for an animal of the class amphib- 
 ia, and that I can play with my lungs as a black- 
 smith does with his bellows ? ” 
 
 The naturalist might have expended his breath 
 much longer without producing any desirable re- 
 sult, had Esther been his only auditor. Disap- 
 pointed and alarmed, the woman had already 
 sought her pallet, and was preparing, with a sort 
 of desperate indifference, to compose herself to 
 sleep. Abner, the sentinel below, however, had 
 been aroused from an exceedingly equivocal sit- 
 uation by the outcry ; and, as he had now regained 
 sufficient consciousness to recognize the voice of 
 the physician, the latter was admitted with the 
 least possible delay. Dr. Battius bustled through 
 the narrow entrance with an air of singular im- 
 patience, and was already beginning to mount the 
 difficult ascent, when, catching a view of the por- 
 ter, he paused to observe, with an air that he in- 
 tended should be impressively admonitory : 
 
 “Abner, there are dangerous symptoms of 
 somnolency about thee ! It is sufficiently exhib- 
 ited in the tendency to hiation, and may prove 
 dangerous not only to yourself, but to all thy 
 father’s family.” 
 
 “ You never made a greater mistake, doctor,” 
 returned the youth, gaping like an indolent lion; 
 “ I haven’t a symptom, as you call it, about any 
 part of me ; and as to father and the children, I 
 reckon the small-pox and the measles have been 
 thoroughly through the breed these many months 
 ago.” 
 
 Content with his brief admonition, the natural- 
 ist had surmounted half the difficulties of the as- 
 cent before the deliberate Abner ended his justi- 
 fication. On the summit, Obed fully expected to 
 encounter Esther, of whose linguacious powers he 
 had too often been furnished with the most sinis- 
 ter proofs, and of which he stood in an awe too 
 salutary to covet a repetition of the attacks. The 
 reader can foresee that he was to be agreeably 
 disappointed. Treading lightly, and looking tim- 
 idly over his shoulder, as if he apprehended a show- 
 er of something even more formidable than words, 
 the doctor proceeded to the place which had been- 
 allotted to himself in the general disposition of the 
 dormitories. 
 
 Instead of sleeping, the worthy naturalist sat 
 ruminating over what he had both seen and heard 
 that day, until the tossing and mutterings which 
 proceeded lrom the cabin of Esther, who was his 
 
 nearest neighbor, advertised him of the wakeful 
 situation of its inmate. Perceiving the necessity 
 of doing something to disarm this female Cerberus, 
 before his own purpose could be accomplished, 
 the doctor, reluctant as he was to encounter her 
 tongue, found himself compelled to invite a col- 
 loquial communication. 
 
 “You appear not to sleep, my very kind and 
 worthy Mrs. Bush,” he said* determined to com- 
 mence his applications with a plaster that was 
 usually found to adhere ; “ you appear to rest 
 badly, my excellent hostess ; can I administer to 
 your ailings ? ” 
 
 “ What would you give me, man ? ” grumbled 
 Esther ; “ a blister to make me sleep ? ” 
 
 “ Say rather a cataplasm. But if you are in 
 pain, here are some cordial drops, which, taken 
 in a glass of my own cognac, will give you rest, 
 if I know aught of the materia medica.” 
 
 The doctor, as he very well knew, had as- 
 sailed Esther on her weak side ; and, as he doubted 
 not of the acceptable quality of his prescription, 
 he set himself at work, without unnecessary delay, 
 to prepare it. When he made his offering, it was 
 received in a snappish and threatening manner, 
 but swallowed with a facility that sufficiently pro- 
 claimed how much it was relished. The woman 
 muttered her thanks, and her leech reseated him- 
 self in silence, to await the operation of the dose. 
 In less than half an hour the breathing of Esther 
 became so profound, and, as the doctor himself 
 might have termed it, so very abstracted, that had 
 he not known how easy it was to ascribe this new 
 instance of somnolency to the powerful dose of 
 opium with which he had garnished the brandy, 
 he might have seen reason to distrust his own 
 prescription. With the sleep of the restless wom- 
 an, the stillness became profound and general. 
 
 Then Dr. Battius saw fit to arise, with the si- 
 lence and caution of the midnight robber, and to 
 steal out of his own cabin, or rather kennel, for 
 it deserved no better name, toward the adjoining 
 dormitories. Here he took time to assure him- 
 self that all his neighbors were buried in deep 
 sleep. Once advised of this important fact, he 
 hesitated no longer, but commenced the difficult 
 ascent which led to the upper pinnacle cf the rock. 
 His advance, though abundantly guarded, was not 
 entirely noiseless ; but while he was felicitating 
 himself on having successfully effected his object, 
 and he wa'S in the very act of placing his foot on 
 the highest ledge, a hand was laid upon the skirts 
 of his coat, which as effectually put an end to his 
 advance as if the gigantic strength of Ishmael 
 himself had pinned him to the earth. 
 
 “ Is there sickness in the tent,” whispered a 
 
82 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 soft voice in his very ear, “ that Dr. Battius is called 
 to visit it at such an hour ? ” 
 
 So soon as the heart of the naturalist had re- 
 turned from its hasty expedition into his throat, 
 as one less skilled than Dr. Battius in the forma- 
 tion of the animal would have been apt to have 
 accounted for the extraordinary sensation with 
 which he received this unlooked-for interruption, 
 he found resolution lo reply ; using, as much in 
 terror as in prudence, the same precaution in the 
 indulgence of his voice. 
 
 “ My worthy Nelly ! I am greatly rejoiced to 
 find it is no other than thee. Hist, child, hist ! 
 Should Ishmael gain a knowledge of our plans, 
 he would not hesitate to cast us both from this 
 rock, upon the plain beneath. Hist ! Nelly, 
 hist!” 
 
 As the doctor delivered his injunctions be- 
 tween the intervals of his ascent, by the time they 
 were concluded, both he and his auditor had gained 
 the upper level. 
 
 “ And how, Dr. Battius,” the girl gravely de- 
 manded, “ may I know the reason why you have 
 run so great a risk of flying from this place, with- 
 out wings, and at the certain expense of your 
 neck ? ” 
 
 “ Nothing shall be concealed from thee, worthy 
 and trusty Nelly — but are you certain that Ish- 
 mael will not awake ? ” 
 
 “No fear of him ; he will sleep until the sun 
 scorches his eyelids. The danger is from my 
 aunt.” 
 
 “ Esther sleepeth ! ” the doctor sententiouslv 
 replied. “ Ellen, you have been watching on this 
 rock to-day ? ” 
 
 “ I was ordered to do so.” 
 
 “ And you have seen the bison, and the ante- 
 lope, and the wolf, and the deer, as usual ; ani- 
 mals of the orders Pecora , Pellulce , and Ferae .” 
 
 “ I have seen the creatures you named in 
 English, but I know nothing of the Indian lan- 
 guages.” 
 
 “ There is still an order that I have not named, 
 which you have also seen. The 'primates — is it 
 not true ? ” 
 
 “ I cannot say. I know no animal by that 
 name.” 
 
 “ Nay, Ellen, you confer with a friend. Of the 
 genus Homo, child ? ” 
 
 “ Whatever else I may have had in view, I 
 have not seen the Vespertilio horribi — ” 
 
 “ Hush, Nelly, thy vivacity will betray us ! 
 Tell me, girl, have you not seen certain bipeds, 
 called men , wandering about the prairies ? ” 
 
 “ Surely. My uncle and his sons have been 
 limiting the buffalo, since the sun began to fall.” 
 
 “ I must speak in the vernacular, to be com- 
 prehended. Ellen, I would say of the species Ken- 
 tucky.” 
 
 Though Ellen reddened like the rose, her blush- 
 es were concealed by the darkness. She hesitated 
 an instant, and then summoned sufficient spirit to 
 say decidedly: 
 
 “ If you wish to speak in parables, Dr. Bat- 
 tius, you must find another listener. Put your 
 questions plainly in English, and I will answer 
 them honestly in the same tongue.” 
 
 “ I have been journeying in this desert, as 
 thou knowest, Nelly, in quest of animals that have 
 been hidden from the eyes of science, until now. 
 Among others, I have discovered a primates , of 
 the genus Homo ; species, Kentucky ; which I term 
 Paul—” 
 
 “ Hist, for the sake of mercy ! ” said Ellen ; 
 “ speak lower, doctor, or we shall be ruined.” 
 
 “ Hover: by profession a collector of th eapes, 
 or bee,” continued the other. “Do I use the 
 varnacular now — am I understood ? ” 
 
 “Perfectly, perfectly,” returned the girl,’ 
 breathing with difficulty, in her surprise. “ But 
 what of him? did he tell you to mount this rock? 
 — he knows nothing, himself ; for the oath I gave 
 my uncle has shut my mouth.” 
 
 “ Ay, but there is one that has taken no oath, 
 who has revealed all. I would that the mantle 
 which is wrapped around the mysteries of Nature, 
 were as effectually withdrawn from its hidden 
 treasures ! Ellen ! Ellen ! the man with whom I 
 have unwittingly formed a compactum, or agree- 
 ment, is sadly forgetful of the obligations of hon- 
 esty ! Thy uncle, child.” 
 
 “ You mean Ishmael Bush, my father’s brother’s 
 widow’s husband,” returned the offended girl, a 
 little proudly. “Indeed, indeed, it is cruel ta 
 reproach me with a tie that chance has formed, 
 and which I would rejoice so much to break for- 
 ever ! ” 
 
 The humbled Ellen could utter no more, but, 
 sinking on a projection of the rock, she began to 
 sob in a manner that rendered their situation doubly 
 critical. The doctor muttered a few words, which 
 he intended as an apologetic explanation, but, be- 
 fore he had time to complete his labored vindica- 
 tion, she arose and said with decision : 
 
 “ I did not come here to pass my time in fool- 
 ish tears, nor you to try to stop them. What, 
 then, has brought you hither ? ” 
 
 “ I must see the inmate of that tent.” 
 
 “ You know what it contains ? ” 
 
 “ I am taught to believe I do ; and I bear a 
 letter which I must deliver with my own hands. 
 If the animal prove a quadruped, Ishmael ia a 
 
THE MISSING ASA. 
 
 63 
 
 true man — if a biped, fledged or unfledged, I care 
 not, he is false, and our compactum at an end ! ” 
 Ellen made a sign for the doctor to remain 
 where he was, and to be silent. She then glided 
 into the tent, where she continued many minutes, 
 that proved exceedingly weary and anxious to the 
 expectant without ; but, the instant she returned, 
 she took him by the arm, and together they en- 
 tered beneath the folds of the mysterious cloth. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 “ Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself I ” 
 
 King Henet YI. 
 
 The mustering of the borderers on the follow- 
 ing morning was silent, sullen, and gloomy. The 
 repast of that hour was wanting in the inharmo- 
 nious accompaniment with which Esther ordina- 
 rily enlivened their meals ; for the effects of the 
 powerful opiate the doctor had administered still 
 muddled her intellects. The young men brooded 
 over the absence of their elder brother ; and the 
 brows of Ishmael himself were knit, as he cast his 
 scowling eyes from one to the other, like a man 
 preparing to meet and to repel an expected assault 
 on hi3 authority. In the midst of this family dis- 
 trust, Ellen and her midnight confederate, the 
 naturalist, took their usual places among the chil- 
 dren, without awakening suspicion or exciting 
 comment. The only apparent fruits of the adven- 
 ture in which they had been engaged were occa- 
 sional upliftings of the eyes, on the part of the 
 doctor, which were mistaken by the observers for 
 some of his scientific contemplations of the heav- 
 ens, but which, in reality, were no other than fur- 
 tive glances at the fluttering walls of the pro- 
 scribed tent. 
 
 At length the squatter, who had waited in vain 
 for some more decided manifestation of the ex- 
 pected rising among his sons, resolved to make a 
 demonstration of his own intentions. 
 
 “Asa shall account to me for his undutiful 
 conduct,” he observed. “ Here has the livelong 
 night gone by, and he outlying on the prairie, 
 when his hand and his rifle might both have been 
 wanted in a brush with the Siouxes, for any right 
 he had to know the contrary.” 
 
 “ Spare your breath, good man,” retorted his 
 wife ! “ be saviug of your breath ; for you may 
 have to call long enough for the boy before he 
 will answer ! ” 
 
 “ It ar’ a fact that some men be so womanish 
 as to let the young master the old ! But you, 
 
 old Eester, should know better than to think auch 
 will ever be the nature of things in the family of 
 Ishmael Bush.” 
 
 “ Ah ! you are a hcctorer with the boys when 
 need calls ! I know it well, Ishmael ; and one of 
 your sons have you driven from you by your 
 temper ; and that, too, at a time when he is most 
 wanted.” 
 
 “ Father,” said Abner, whose sluggish nature 
 had gradually been stimulating itself to the exer- 
 tion of taking so bold a stand, “the boys and I 
 have pretty generally concluded to go out on the 
 search of Asa. We are disagreeable about his 
 ’camping on the prairie, instead of coming into 
 his own bed, as we all know he would like to do.” 
 
 “Pshaw!” muttered Abiram; “the boy has 
 killed a buck ; or perhaps a buffalo ; and he is 
 sleeping by the carcass to keep off the wolves 
 till day ; we shall soon see him, or hear him bawl- 
 ing for help to bring in his load.” 
 
 “ ’Tis little help that a son of mine will call 
 for, to shoulder a buck or to quarter your wild- 
 beef,” returned the mother. “ And you, Abiram, 
 to say so uncertain a thing ! you who said your- 
 self that the red-skins h;jd been prowling around 
 this place, no later than yesterday — ” 
 
 “ I ! ” exclaimed her brother, hastily, as if 
 anxious to retract an error; “I said it then, and 
 I say it now ; and so you will find it to be. The 
 Tetons are in our neighborhood, and happy w ill 
 it prove for the boy if he is well shut of them.” 
 
 “ It seems to me,” said Dr. Battius, speaking 
 with the sort of deliberation and dignity one is 
 apt to use after having thoroughly ripened his 
 opinions by sufficient reflection — “ it seems to me 
 — a man but little skilled in the signs and tokens 
 of Indian warfare, especially as practised in these 
 remote plains, but one who, I may say wdthout 
 vanity, has some insight into the mysteries of 
 Nature — it seems, then, to me, thus humbly quali- 
 fied, that when doubts exist in a matter of mo- 
 ment, it would always be the wisest course to ap- 
 pease them.” 
 
 “ No more of your doctoring for me ! ” cried 
 the grum Esther; “no more of your quiddities 
 in a healthy family, say I ! Here was I doing 
 well, only a little out of sorts w ith over-instruct- 
 ing the young, and you dosed me with a drug that 
 hangs about my tongue like a pound-weight on a 
 humming-bird’s wing ! ” 
 
 “Is the medicine out? ” dryly demanded Ish- 
 mael ; “ it must be a rare dose that gives a heavy 
 feel to the tongue of old Eester ! ” 
 
 “ Friend,” continued the doctor, waving his 
 hand for the angry wife to maintain the peace, 
 “ that it cannot perform all that is said of it the 
 
64 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 very charge of good Mrs. Bush is a sufficient proof. 
 But to speak of the absent Asa. There is doubt 
 as to his fate, and there is a proposition to solve 
 it. Now, in the natural sciences truth is always 
 a desideratum ; and I confess it would seem to 
 be equally so in the present case of domestic un- 
 certainty, which may be called a vacuum, where, 
 according to the laws of physic, there should 
 exist some pretty palpable proofs of materiality.” 
 
 “ Don’t mind him, don’t mind him,” cried 
 Esther, observing that the rest of his auditors 
 listened with an attention which might proceed 
 equally from acquiescence in his proposal, or 
 ignorance of its meaning. “ There is a drug in 
 every word he utters.” 
 
 “ Dr. Battius wishes to say,” Ellen modestly 
 interposed, “that as some of us think Asa is in 
 danger, and some think otherwise, the whole 
 family might pass an hour or two in looking for 
 him.” 
 
 “Does he?” interrupted the woman; “then 
 Dr. Battius has more sense in him than I be- 
 lieved! She is right, Ishmael; and what she 
 says shall be done. I will shoulder a rifle my- 
 self; and woe betide the red-skin that crosses my 
 path ! I have pulled a trigger before to-day ; ay, 
 and heard an Indian yell, too, to my sorrow.” 
 
 The spirit of Esther diffused itself, like the 
 stimulus which attends a war-cry, among her sons. 
 They arose in a body, and declared their deter- 
 mination to second so bold a resolution. Ishmael 
 prudently yielded to an impulse he could not re- 
 sist, and in a few minutes the woman appeared, 
 shouldering her arms, prepared to lead forth, in 
 person, such of her descendants as chose to 
 follow. 
 
 “ Let them stay with the children that please,” 
 she said, “ and them follow me who are not 
 chicken-hearted ! ” 
 
 “ Abiram, it will not do to leave the huts with- 
 out some guard,” Ishmael whispered, glancing his 
 eye upward. 
 
 The man whom he addressed started, and 
 betrayed extraordinary eagerness in his reply. 
 
 “ I will tarry and watch the camp.” 
 
 A dozen voices were instantly raised in objec- 
 tion to this proposal. He was wanted to point 
 out the places where the hostile tracks had been 
 seen, and his termagant sister openly scouted at 
 the idea, as unworthy of bis manhood. The 
 reluctant Abiram was compelled to yield, and 
 Ishmael made a new disposition for the defence 
 of the place ; which was admitted, by every one, 
 to be all-important to their security and comfort. 
 
 He offered the post of commandant to Dr. 
 Battius, who, however, peremptorily and some- 
 
 what haughtily, declined the doubtful honor ; 
 exchanging looks of intelligence with Ellen as 
 he did so. In this dilemma the squatter was 
 obliged to constitute the girl herself castellan ; 
 taking care, however, in deputing this important 
 trust, to omit no words of caution and instruc- 
 tion. When this preliminary point was settled, 
 the young men proceeded to arrange certain 
 means of defence, and signals of alarm, that 
 were adapted to the weakness and character of 
 the garrison. Several masses of rock were drawn 
 to the edge of the upper level, and so placed as 
 to leave it at the discretion of the feeble Ellen 
 and her associates to cast them or not, as they 
 might choose, on the heads of any invaders, who 
 would, of necessity, be obliged to mount the emi- 
 nence by the difficult and narrow passage already 
 so often mentioned. In addition to this formi- 
 dable obstruction, the barriers were strengthened 
 and rendered nearly impassable. Smaller mis- 
 siles, that might be hurled even by the hands of 
 the younger children, but which would prove, 
 from the elevation of the place, exceeding dan- 
 gerous, were provided in profusion. A pile of 
 dried leaves and splinters was placed, as a beacon, 
 on the upper rock, and then, even in the jealous 
 judgment of the squatter, the post was deemed 
 competent to maintain a creditable siege. 
 
 The moment the rock was thought to be in a 
 state of sufficient security, the party who com- 
 posed what might be called the sortie, sallied 
 forth on their anxious expedition. The advance 
 was led by Esther in person, who, attired in a 
 dress half masculine, and bearing a weapon like 
 the rest, seemed no unfit leader for the group of 
 wildly -clad frontier-men that followed in her 
 rear. 
 
 “Now, Abiram!” cried the Amazon, in a 
 voice that was cracked and harsh, for the simple 
 reason of being used too often on a strained and 
 unnatural key, “ now, Abiram, run with your nose 
 low ; show yourself a hound of the true breed, 
 and do some credit to your training. You it was 
 that saw the prints of the Indian moccasin, and 
 it behooves you to let others be as wise as youi- 
 self. Come ; come to the front, man ; and give 
 us a bold lead.” 
 
 The brother, who appeared at all times to 
 stand in awe of his sister’s authority, complied • 
 though it was with a reluctance so evident as to 
 excite sneers even among the unobservant and 
 indolent sons of the squatter. Ishmael, himself, 
 moved among his tall children, like one who ex- 
 pected nothing from the search, and who was 
 indifferent alike to its success or failure. In this 
 manner the party proceeded until their distant 
 
ESTIIER IN SEARCH OF HER SON. 
 
 65 
 
 fortress had sunk so low as to present an ob- 
 ject no larger nor more distinct than a hazy point 
 on the margin of the prairie. Hitherto their 
 progress had been silent and somewhat rapid, 
 for as swell after swell was mounted and passed, 
 without varying, or discovering a living object 
 to enliven the monotony of the view, even the 
 tongue of Esther was hushed to increasing anxiety. 
 Here, however, Ishmael chose to pause, and, cast- 
 ing the butt of his rifle from his shoulder to the 
 ground, he observed : 
 
 “This is enough. Buffalo-signs and deer- 
 Signs are plenty; but where are thy Indian foot- 
 steps, Abiram ? ” 
 
 “ Still farther west,’’ returned the other, point- 
 ing in the direction he named. “ This was the 
 spot where I struck the tracks of the buck ; it 
 was after I took the deer that I fell upon the 
 Teton trail.” 
 
 “ And a bloody piece of work you made of it, 
 man,” cried the squatter, pointing tauntingly to 
 the soiled garments of his kinsman, and then 
 directing the attention of the spectators to his 
 own, by the way of a triumphant contrast. 
 “ Here have I cut the throats of two lively does, 
 and a scampering fawn, without spot or stain; 
 while you, blundering dog as you are, have made 
 as much work for Eester and her girls, as though 
 butchering was your regular calling. Come, 
 boys — it is enough. I am too old not to know 
 the signs of the frontiers; no Indian has been 
 here since the last fall of water. Follow me ; and 
 I will make a turn that shall give us at least the 
 beef of a fallow cow for our trouble.” 
 
 “ Follow me ! ” echoed Esther, stepping un- 
 dauntedly forward. “ I am leader to-day, and I 
 will be followed. Who so proper, let me know, 
 as a mother, to head a search for her own lost 
 child ? ” 
 
 Ishmael regarded his intractable mate with a 
 smile of indulgent pity. Observing that she had 
 already struck out a path for herself, different 
 both from that of Abiram and the one he had 
 seen fit to choose, and, being unwilling to draw 
 the cord of authority too tight just at that mo- 
 ment, he submitted to her will. But Dr. Battius, 
 who had hitherto been a silent and thoughtful 
 attendant on the woman, now saw fit to raise his 
 feeble voice in the way of remonstrance. 
 
 “ I agree with thy partner in life, worthy and 
 gentle Mrs. Bush,” he said, “in believing that 
 some ignis fatuus of the imagination has deceived 
 Abiram, in the signs or symptoms of which he 
 has spoken.” 
 
 'Symptoms, yourself! ” interrupted the ter- 
 magant. “This is no time for bookish words, 
 
 8 
 
 nor is this a place to stop and swallow medicines. 
 If you are a-leg- weary, say so, as a plain-speaking 
 man should : then seat yourself on the prairie, 
 like a hound that is foot-sore, and take your natu- 
 ral rest.” 
 
 “ I accord in the opinion,” the naturalist 
 calmly replied, complying literally with the opinion 
 of the deriding Esther, by taking his seat very 
 coolly by the side of an indigenous shrub ; the 
 examination of which he commenced on the 
 instant, in order that science might not lose any 
 of its just and important dues. “ I honor your 
 excellent advice, Mistress Esther, as you may 
 perceive. Go thou in quest of thy offspring, 
 while I tarry here, in pursuit of that which is 
 better ; viz., an insight into the arcana of Nature’s 
 volume.” 
 
 The woman answered with a hollow, unnat- 
 ural, and scornful laugh ; and even her heavy 
 sons, as they slowly passed the seat of the already 
 abstracted naturalist, did not disdain to manifest 
 their contempt in smiles. In a few minutes the 
 train mounted the nearest eminence, and, as it 
 turned the rounded acclivity, the doctor was left 
 to pursue his profitable investigations in entire 
 solitude. 
 
 Another half-hour passed, during which Es- 
 ther continued to advance on her seemingly fruit- 
 less search. Her pauses, however, were becom- 
 ing frequent, and her looks wandering and uncer- 
 tain, when footsteps were heard clattering through 
 the bottom, and at the next instant a buck was 
 seen to bound up the ascent, and to dart from 
 before their eyes, in the direction of the naturalist. 
 So sudden and unlooked-for had been the passage 
 of the animal, and so much had he been favored 
 by the shape of the ground, that, before any one 
 of the foresters had time to bring his rifle to his 
 shoulder, it was already beyond the range of a 
 bullet. 
 
 “ Look out for the wolf ! ” shouted Abner, 
 shaking his head in vexation, at being a single 
 moment too late. “ A wolf’s skin will be no bad 
 gift in a winter’s night; ay, yonder the hungry 
 devil comes ! ” 
 
 “ Hold ! ” cried Ishmael, knocking up the 
 levelled weapon of his too eager son. “ ’{[’is not 
 a wolf, but a hound of thorough blood and bottom, 
 Ha ! we have hunters nigh : there ar’ two/of them.” 
 
 He was still speaking,, when the Animals in 
 question came leaping on the track of the deer, 
 striving with noble ardor to outdo each other. 
 One w&s an aged dog, whose strength deemed to 
 be sustained purely by generous emulation, and 
 the other a pup, that gambolled even while he 
 pressed most warmly on the chase. They both 
 
66 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 ran, however, with clean and powerful leaps, 
 carrying their noses high, like animals of the 
 most keen and subtile scent. They had passed ; 
 and in another minute they would have been run- 
 ning open-mouthed with the deer in view, had 
 not the younger dog suddenly bounded from the 
 course, and uttered a cry of surprise. His aged 
 companion stopped also, and returned panting 
 and exhausted to the place where the other was 
 whirling around in swift and apparently in mad 
 evolutions, circling the spot in his own footsteps, 
 and continuing bis outcry, in a short, snappish 
 barking. But, when the elder hound had reached 
 the spot, he seated himself, and, lifting his nose 
 high into the air, he raised a long, loud, and wail- 
 ing howl. 
 
 “ It must be a strong scent,” said Abner, who 
 had been, with the rest of the family, an admiring 
 observer of the movements of the dogs, “that 
 can break off two such creatur’s so suddenly from 
 their trail.” 
 
 “ Murder them ! ” cried Abiram ; “ I’ll swear 
 to the old hound; ’tis the dog of the trapper, 
 whom we now know to be our mortal enemy.” 
 
 Though the brother of Esther gave so hostile 
 advice, he appeared in no way ready to put it in 
 execution himself. The surprise which had taken 
 possession of the whole party, exhibited itself in 
 his own vacant, wondering stare, as strongly as 
 in any of the admiring visages by whom he was 
 surrounded. His denunciation, therefore, not- 
 withstanding its dire import, was disregarded ; and 
 the dogs were left to obey the impulses of their 
 mysterious instinct, without let or hinderance. 
 
 It was long before any of the spectators broke 
 the silence; but the squatter at length so far 
 recollected his authority as to take on himself the 
 right to control the movements of his children. 
 
 “ Come away, boys ; come away, and leave the 
 hounds to sing their tunes for their own amuse- 
 ment,” Ishmael said, in his coldest manner. “ I 
 scorn to take the life of a beast, because its mas- 
 ter has pitched himself too nigh my clearing; 
 come away, boys, come away ; we have enough of 
 our own work before us, without turning aside to 
 do that of the whole neighborhood.” 
 
 “ Come not away ! ” cried Esther, in tones that 
 sounded like the admonitions of some sibyl. “ I 
 say, come not away, my children. There is a 
 meaning and a warning in this; and as I am a 
 woman and a mother, win I know the truth of it 
 all.” 
 
 So saying, the awakened wife brandished her 
 weapon, with an air tnat was not without its 
 wild and secret influence, and led the way toward 
 the soot where the dogs still remained, filling 
 
 the air with their long-drawn and piteous com- 
 plaints. The whole party follow ed in her steps, 
 some too indolent to oppose, others obedient to 
 her will, and all more or less excited by the un- 
 common character of the scene. 
 
 “ Tell me, you Abner — Abiram — Ishmael ! ” 
 the woman cried, standing over a spot where the 
 earth was trampled and beaten, and plainly 
 sprinkled w ith blood ; “ tell! me. you who ar 
 hunters ! what sort of animal has here met his 
 death? — Speak! Ye ar’ men, and used to the 
 signs of the plains ; is it the blood of wolf or 
 panther ? ” 
 
 “ A buffalo — and a noble and powerful crea- 
 tur’ has it been!” returned the squatter, who 
 looked down calmly on the fatal signs which so 
 strangely affected his wife. “ Here are the marks 
 of the spot where he has struck his hoofs into 
 the earth, in the death-struggle; and yonder he 
 has plunged and torn the ground with his horns. 
 Ay, a buffalo-bull of wonderful strength and 
 courage has he been ! ” 
 
 “And who has slain him?” continued Es- 
 ther ; “man ! where are the offals ? — Wolves ! — 
 They devour not the hide ! Tell me, ye men and 
 hunters, is this the blood of a beast ? ” 
 
 “ The creatur’ has plunged over the hillock,” 
 said Abner, who had proceeded a short distance 
 beyond the rest of the party. “ Ah ! there you 
 will find it, in yon swale of alders. Look ! a thou- 
 sand carrion-birds ar’ hovering above the car- 
 cass.” 
 
 “ The animal has still life in him,” returned 
 the squatter, “ or the buzzards would settle upon 
 their prey ! By the action of the dogs it must be 
 something ravenous : I reckon it is the white bear 
 from the upper falls. They are said to cling des- 
 perately to life ! ” 
 
 “ Let us go back,” said Abiram ; “ there may 
 be danger, and there can be no good in attacking 
 a ravenous beast. Remember, Ishmael, ’twill be 
 a risky job, and one of small profit ! ” 
 
 The young men smiled at this new proof of 
 the well-known pusillanimity of their uncle. The 
 oldest even proceeded so far as to express his 
 contempt, by bluntly saying : 
 
 “ It will do to cage with the other animal we 
 carry ; then we may go back double-handed into 
 the settlements, and set up for showmen, around 
 the court-houses and jails of Kentucky.” 
 
 The threatening frown which gathered on the 
 brow of his father admonished the young man to 
 forbear. Exchanging looks that were half rebel- 
 lious with his brethren, he saw fit to be silent. 
 But instead of observing the caution recommended 
 by Abiram, they proceeded in a body, until they 
 
A SAD DISCOVERY. 
 
 67 
 
 again came to a halt within a few yards of the 
 matted cover of the thicket. 
 
 The scene had now, iudeed, become wild and 
 striking enough to have produced a powerful ef- 
 fect on minds better prepared, than those of the 
 unnurtured family of the squatter, to resist the 
 impressions of so exciting a spectacle. The heav- 
 ens were, as usual at the season, covered with 
 dark, driving clouds, beneath which intenninable 
 flocks of aquatic birds were again on the wing, 
 holding their toilsome and heavy way toward the 
 distant waters of the South. The wind had risen, 
 and was once more sweeping over the prairie in 
 gusts, which it was often vain to oppose; and 
 then again the blasts would seem to mount into 
 the upper air, as if to sport with the drifting va- 
 por, whirling and rolling vast masses of the dusky 
 and ragged volumes over each other, in a terrific 
 and yet grand disorder. Above the little brake, 
 the flocks of birds still held their flight, circling 
 with heavy wings about the spot, struggling at 
 times against the torrent of wind, and then, fa- 
 vored by their position and height, making bold 
 swoops upon the thicket, away from which, how- 
 ever, they never failed to sail, screaming in terror, 
 as if apprised, either by sight or instinct, that the 
 hour of their voracious dominion had not yet fully 
 arrived. 
 
 Ishmael stood for many minutes, with his wife 
 and children clustered together, in an amazement, 
 with which awe was singularly mingled, gazing in 
 death-like stillness on the sight. The voice of Es- 
 ther at length broke the charm, and reminded the 
 spectators of the necessity of resolving their 
 doubts in some manner more worthy of their 
 manhood than by dull and inactive observation. 
 
 “ Call in the dogs ! ” she said ; “ call in the 
 hounds, and put them into the thicket ; there ar’ 
 men enough of ye, if ye have not lost the spirit 
 with which I know ye were born, to tame the tem- 
 pers of all the bears west of the big river. Call in 
 the dogs, I say, you Enoch ! Abner ! Gabriel ! has 
 wonder made ye deaf ? ” 
 
 One of the young men complied ; and, having 
 succeeded in detaching the hounds from the place, 
 around which, until then, they had not ceased to 
 hover, he led them down to the margin of the 
 thicket. 
 
 “ Put them in, boy ; put them in,” continued 
 the woman ; “ and you, Ishmael and Abiram, if 
 any thing wicked or hurtful corae3 forth, show 
 them the use of your rifles, like frontier-men. If 
 ye ar’ wanting in spirit, before the eyes of my 
 children will I put ye both to shame ! ” 
 
 The youths who, until now, had detained the 
 hounds, let slip the thongs of skin by which they 
 
 had been held, and urged them to the attack with 
 their voices. But it would seem that the elder 
 dog was restrained by some extraordinary sensa- 
 tion, or that he was much too experienced to at- 
 tempt the rash adventure. After proceeding a 
 few yards to the verge of the brake, he made a 
 sudden pause, and stood trembling in all his aged 
 limbs, apparently as unable to recede as to ad- 
 vance. The encouraging calls of the young men 
 were disregarded, or only answered by a low and 
 plaintive whining. For a minute the pup also 
 was similarly affected; but less sage, or more 
 easily excited, he was induced at length to leap 
 forward, and finally to dash into the cover. An 
 alarmed and startling howl was heard, and, at the 
 next minute, he broke out of the thicket, and com- 
 menced circling the spot, in the same wild and un- 
 steady manner as before. 
 
 “ Have I a man among my children ? ” de- 
 manded Esther. “ Give me a truer piece than a 
 childish shot-gun, and I will show ye what the 
 courage of a frontier-woman can do ! ” 
 
 “Stay, mother,” exclaimed Abner and Enoch; 
 “ if you will see the creatur’, let us drive it into 
 view.” 
 
 This was quite as much as the youths were 
 accustomed to utter, even on more important oc- 
 casions ; but, having given a pledge of their inten- 
 tions, they were far from being backward in re- 
 deeming it. Preparing their arms with the ut- 
 most care, they advanced with steadiness to 
 the brake. Nerves less often tried than those of 
 the young borderers might have shrunk before 
 the dangers of so uncertain an undertaking. As 
 they proceeded, the howls of the dogs became 
 more shrill and plaintive. The vultures and buz- 
 zards settled so low as to flap the bushes with 
 their heavy wings, and the wind came hoarsely 
 sweeping along the naked prairie, as if the spirits 
 of the air had also descended to witness the ap- 
 proaching development. 
 
 There was a breathless moment, when the blood 
 of the undaunted Esther flowed backward to her 
 heart, as she saw her sons push aside the matted 
 branches of the thicket and bury themselves in its 
 labyrinth. A deep and solemn pause succeeded. 
 Then arose two loud and piercing cries, in quick 
 succession, which were followed by a quiet still 
 more awful and appalling. 
 
 “ Come back, come back, my children ! ” cried 
 the woman, the feelings of a mother getting the 
 ascendency. 
 
 But her voice was hushed, and every faculty 
 seemed frozen with horror, as at that instant the 
 bushes once more parted, and the two adventur- 
 ers reappeared, pale, and nearly insensible them- 
 
68 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 3elves, and laid at her feet the stiff and motion- 
 less body of the lost Asa, with the marks of a vio- 
 lent death but too plainly stamped on every pal- 
 lid lineament. 
 
 The dogs uttered a long and closing howl, and 
 then, breaking off together, they disappeared on 
 the forsaken trail of the deer. The flight of birds 
 wheeled upward into the heavens, filling the air 
 with their complaints at having been robbed of a 
 victim which, frightful and disgusting as it was, 
 still bore too much of the impression of humanity 
 to become the prey of their obscene appetites. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 “ A pickaxe, and a spade, a spade, 
 
 For — and a shrouding sheet : 
 
 O, a pit of clay for to he made 
 For such a guest is meet.” 
 
 Song in IIamlet. 
 
 “ Stand back ! stand off, the whole of ye ! ” 
 said Esther, hoarsely to the crowd, which pressed 
 too closely on the corpse ; “ I am his mother, and 
 my right is better than that of ye all ! Who has 
 done this? Tell me, Ishmael, Abiram, Abner! 
 open your mouths and your hearts, and let God’s 
 truth and no other issue from them. Who has 
 done this bloody deed ? ” 
 
 Her husband made no reply, but stood, leaning 
 on his rifle, looking sadly, but with an unaltered 
 eye, at the mangled remains of his son. Not so 
 the mother ; she threw herself on the earth, and, 
 receiving the cold and ghastly head into her lap,' 
 she sat contemplating those muscular features, 
 on which the death-agony was still horridly im- 
 pressed, in a silence far more expressive than any 
 language of lamentation could have proved. 
 
 The voice of the woman was frozen in grief. 
 In vain Ishmael attempted a few words of rude con- 
 solation ; she neither listened nor answered. Her 
 sons gathered about her in a circle, and expressed, 
 after their uncouth manner, their Sympathy in her 
 sorrow, as well as their sense of their own loss ; 
 but she motioned them away, impatiently, with 
 her hand. At times her fingers played in the 
 matted hair of the dead, and at others they light- 
 ly attempted to smooth the painfully expressive 
 muscles of its ghastly visage, as the hand of the 
 mother is seen lingering fondly about the features 
 of her sleeping child. Then, starting from their re- 
 volting office, her hands would flutter around her, 
 and seem to seek some fruitless remedy against the 
 violent blow which had thus suddenly destroyed 
 the child in whom she had not only placed her 
 greatest hopes, but so much of her maternal pride. 
 
 While engaged in the latter incomprehensible man- 
 ner, the lethargic Abner turned aside, and, swal- 
 lowing the unwonted emotions which were rising 
 in his own throat, he observed : 
 
 “ Mother means that we should look for the 
 signs, that we may know in what manner Asa 
 has come by his end.” 
 
 “We owe it to the accursed Siouxes!” an- 
 swered Ishmael ; “ twice have they put me deeply 
 in their debt! The third time the score shall be 
 cleared ! ” 
 
 But, not content with this plausible explana- 
 tion, and perhaps secretly glad to avert their eyes 
 from a spectacle which awakened so extraordinary 
 and unusual sensations in their sluggish bosoms, 
 the sons of the squatter turned away in a body 
 from their mother and the corpse, and proceeded 
 to make the inquiries which they fancied the for- 
 mer had so repeatedly demanded. Ishmael made 
 no objections ; but, though he accompanied his 
 children while they proceeded in the investigation, 
 it was more with the appearance of complying 
 with their wishes, at a time when resistance might 
 not be seemly, than with any visible interest in 
 the result. As the borderers, notwithstanding 
 their usual d illness, were well instructed in most 
 things connected with their habits of life, an in- 
 quiry, the success of which depended so much on 
 signs and evidences that bore so strong a resem- 
 blance to a forest-trail, was likely to be conducted 
 with skill and acuteness. Accordingly, they pro- 
 ceeded to the melancholy task with great readi- 
 ness and intelligence. 
 
 Abner and Enoch agreed in their accounts as 
 to the position in which they had found the body. 
 It was seated nearly upright, the back supported by 
 a mass of matted brush, and one hand still grasp 
 irig a broken twig of the alders. It was most prob- 
 ably owing to the former circumstance that the 
 body had escaped the rapacity of the carrion-birds, 
 which had been seen hovering above the thicket, 
 and the latter proved that life had not yet entirely 
 abandoned the hapless victim when he entered the 
 brake. The opinion now became general that the 
 youth had received his death-wound in the open 
 prairie, and had dragged his enfeebled form into 
 the cover of the thicket for the purpose of conceal- 
 ment. A trail through the bushes confirmed this 
 opinion. It also appeared, on examination, that 
 a desperate struggle had taken place on the very 
 margin of the thicket. This was sufficiently appar- 
 ent by the trodden branches, the deep impressions 
 on the moist ground, and the lavish flow of blood. 
 
 “ He has been shot in the open ground and 
 come here for a cover,” said Abiram ; “ these 
 marks would clearly prove it. The boy has been 
 
THE TRAPPER SUSPECTED. 
 
 69 
 
 set upon by the savages in a body, and has fou’t 
 like a hero as ho was, until they have mastered 
 his strength, and then drawn him to the bushes.” 
 
 To this probable opinion there was now but 
 one dissenting voice, that of the slow -minded Ish- 
 mael, who demanded that the corpse itself should 
 be examined in order to obtain a more accurate 
 knowledge of its injuries. On examination, it ap- 
 peared that a rifle-bullet had passed directly 
 through the body of the deceased, entering be- 
 neath one of his brawny shoulders, and making its 
 exit by the breast. It required some knowledge 
 in gunshot-wounds to decide this delicate point, 
 but the experience of the borderers was quite 
 equal to the scrutiny ; and a smile of wild and 
 certainly of singular satisfaction passed among 
 the sons of Ishmael, when Abner confidently an- 
 nounced that the enemies of Asa had assailed him 
 in the rear. 
 
 “ It must be so,” said the gloomy but atten- 
 tive squatter. “ He was of too good a stock, and 
 too well trained, knowingly to turn the weak side 
 to man or beast ! Remember, boys, that while the 
 front of manhood is to vour enemy, let him be 
 who or what he may, you ar’ safe from cowardly 
 surprise. — Why, Eester, woman ! you ar’ getting 
 beside yourself with picking at the hair and the 
 garments of the child ! Little good can you do 
 him now, old girl.” 
 
 “See!” interrupted Enoch, extricating from 
 the fragments of cloth the morsel of lead which 
 had prostrated the strength of one so powerful ; 
 “ here is the very buf.et !•” 
 
 Ishmael took it in his hand and eyed it long 
 and closely. 
 
 “ There’s no mistake,” at length he muttered 
 through his compressed teeth. “ It is from the 
 pouch of that accursed trapper. Like many of 
 the hunters, he has a mark in his mould, in order 
 to know the work his rifle performs ; and here you 
 see it plainly — six little holes laid crossways.” 
 
 “ I’ll swear to it,” cried Abiram, triumphantly. 
 “He show’d me his private mark, himself, and 
 boasted of the number of deer he had laid upon 
 the prairies with these very bullets. Now, Ish- 
 mael, will you believe me when I tell you the old 
 knave is a spy of the red-skins ? ” 
 
 The lead passed from the hand of one to that 
 of another ; and, unfortunately for the reputation 
 of the old man, several among them remembered 
 also to have seen the aforesaid private bullet-marks 
 during the curious examination which all had made 
 of his accoutrements. In addition to this wound, 
 however, were many others of a less dangerous 
 nature, all of which were deemed to confirm the 
 aupposed guilt of the trapper. 
 
 The traces of many different struggles were to 
 be seen between the spot where the first blood 
 was spilt and the thicket to which it was now gen- 
 erally believed Asa had retreated as a place of ref- 
 uge. These were interpreted into so many proofs 
 of the weakness of the murderer, who would have 
 sooner dispatched his victim, had not even the 
 dying strength of the youth rendered him formi- 
 dable to the infirmities of one so old. The danger 
 of drawing some others of the hunters to the spot, 
 by repeated firing, was deemed a sufficient reason 
 for not again resorting to the rifle after it had per- 
 formed the important duty of disabling the victim. 
 The weapon of the dead man was not to be found, 
 and had doubtless, together with many other less 
 valuable and lighter articles that he was accus- 
 tomed to carry about his person, become a prize 
 to his destroyer. 
 
 But what, in addition to the telltale bullet, ap- 
 peared to fix the ruthless deed with peculiar cer- 
 tainty on the trapper was the accumulated evi- 
 dence furnished by the trail ; which proved, not- 
 withstanding his deadly hurt, that the wounded 
 man had still been able to make a long and des- 
 perate resistance to the subsequent efforts of his 
 murderer. Ishmael seemed to press this proof 
 with a singular mixture of sorrow and pride : sor- 
 row at the loss of a son whom, in their moments 
 of amity, he highly valued ; and pride at the cour- 
 age and power he had manifested to his last and 
 weakest breath. 
 
 “ He died as a sou of mine should die,” said 
 the squatter, gleaning a hollow consolation from 
 so unnatural an exultation — “ a dread to his en- 
 emy to the last, and without help from the law ! 
 Come, children ; we have the grave to make, and 
 then to hunt his murderer.” 
 
 The son of the squatter set about their melan- 
 choly office in silence and in sadness. An exca- 
 vation was made in the hard earth at a great 
 expense of toil and time, and the body was 
 wrapped in such spare vestments as could be col- 
 lected among the laborers. When these arrange- 
 ments were completed, Ishmael approached the 
 seemingly unconscious Esther, and announced his 
 intention to inter the dead. She heard him, and 
 quietly relinquished her grasp of the corpse, ris- 
 ing in silence to follow it to its narrow resting- 
 place. Here she seated herself again at the head 
 of the grave, watching each movement of the 
 youths with eager and jealous eyes. When a 
 sufficiency of earth was laid upon the senseless 
 clay of Asa to protect it from injury, Enoch and 
 Abner entered the cavity, and trod it into a solid 
 mass by the weight of their huge frames, with an 
 appearance of a strange, not to say savage, mix- 
 
70 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 ture of care and indifference. This well-known 
 precaution was adopted to prevent the speedy 
 exhumation of the body by some of the carniv- 
 orous beasts of the prairie, whose instinct was 
 sure to guide them to the spot. Even the rapa- 
 cious birds appeared to comprehend the nature 
 of the ceremony, for, mysteriously apprised that 
 the miserable victim was now about to be aban- 
 doned by the human race, they once more began 
 to make their airy circuits above the place, 
 screaming as if to frighten the kinsmen from their 
 labor of caution and love. 
 
 Ishmael stood, with folded arms, steadily 
 watching the manner in which this necessary 
 duty was performed, and, when the whole was 
 completed, he lifted his cap to his sons, to thank 
 them for their services, with a dignity that would 
 have become one much better nurtured. Through- 
 out the whole of a ceremony which is ever solemn 
 and admonitory, the squatter had maintained a 
 grave and serious deportment. His vast features 
 were visibly stamped with an expression of deep 
 concern ; but at no time did they falter, until he 
 turned his back, as he believed forever, on the 
 grave of his first-born. Nature was then stirring 
 powerfully within him, and the muscles of his 
 stern visage began to work perceptibly. His 
 children fastened their eyes on his, as if to seek 
 a direction to the strange emotions which were 
 moving their own heavy natures, when the strug- 
 gle in the bosom of the squatter suddenly ceased, 
 and, taking his wife by the arm, he raised her to 
 her feet as if she had been an infant, saying in a 
 voice that was perfectly steady, though a nice 
 observer would have discovered that it was kind- 
 er than usual : 
 
 Eester, we have now done all that man and 
 woman can do. We raised the boy, and made 
 him such as few others were like, on the fron- 
 tiers of America ; and we have given him a grave. 
 Let us go our way.” 
 
 The woman turned her eyes slowly from the 
 fresh earth, and. laying her hands on the shoulders 
 of her husband, stood, looking him anxiously in 
 the eyes. 
 
 “ Ishmael ! Ishmael ! ” she said, “ you parted 
 from the boy in your wrath ! ” 
 
 “ Hay the Lord pardon his sins freely as I 
 have forgiven his worst misdeeds ! ” calmly re- 
 turned the squatter. “Woman, go you back 
 to the rock and read your Bible ; a chapter in 
 that book always does you good. You can 
 read, Eester; which is a privilege I never did 
 enjoy ” 
 
 “ Yes, yes,” muttered the woman, yielding to 
 his strength, and suffering herself to be led 
 
 though with strong reluctance, from the spot. 
 “ I can read ; and how have I used the knowledge ! 
 But he, Ishmael, he has not the sin of wasted 
 l’arning to answer for. We have spared him 
 that , at least ! whether it be in mercy or in cruelty 
 I know not.” 
 
 Her husband made no reply, but continued 
 steadily to lead her in the direction of their 
 temporary abode. When they reached the sum- 
 mit of the swell of land, which they knew was 
 the last spot from which the situation of the 
 grave of Asa could be seen, they all turned, as 
 by common concurrence, to take a farewell view 
 of the place. The little mound itself was not 
 visible ; but it was frightfully indicated by the 
 flock of screaming birds which hovered above. 
 In the opposite direction a low, blue hillock, in 
 the skirts of the horizon, pointed out the place 
 where Esther had left the rest of her young, and 
 served as an attraction to draw her reluctant steps 
 from the last abode of her eldest born. Nature 
 quickened in the bosom of the mother at the 
 sight ; and she finally yielded the rights oi the 
 dead to the more urgent claims of the living. 
 
 The foregoing occurrences had struck a spark 
 from the stern tempers of a set of beings so sin- 
 gularly moulded in the habits of their unculti- 
 vated lives, which served to keep alive among them 
 the dying embers of family affection. United to 
 their parents by ties no stronger than those which 
 use had created, there had been great danger, as 
 Ishmael had foreseen, that the overloaded hive 
 would swarm, and leave him saddled with the diffi- 
 culties of a young and helpless brood, unsupport- 
 ed by the exertions of those whom he had already 
 brought to a state of maturity. The spirit of 
 insubordination which emanated from the unfor- 
 tunate Asa, had spread among his juniors ; and 
 the squatter had been made painfully to remem- 
 ber the time when, in the wantonness of his youth 
 and vigor, he had, reversing the order of the 
 brutes, cast off his own aged and failing parents, 
 to enter into the world unshackled and free. But 
 the danger had now abated, for a time at least ; 
 and, if his authority was not restored with all its 
 former influence, it was admitted to exist, and to 
 maintain its ascendency a little longer. 
 
 It is true that his slow-minded sons, even 
 while they submitted to the impressions of the 
 recent event, had glimmerings of terrible distrust 
 as to the manner in which their elder brother had 
 met with his death. There were faint and indis- 
 tinct images in the minds of two or three of the 
 oldest, which portrayed the father himself as 
 ready to imitate the example of Abraham, with- 
 out the justification of the sacred authority which 
 
RETURNING TO THE FORTRESS. 
 
 71 
 
 commanded the holy man to attempt the revolt- 
 ing office. But then these images were so tran- 
 sient, and so much obscured in intellectual mists, 
 as to leave no very strong impressions ; and the 
 tendency of the whole transaction, as we have 
 already said, was rather to strengthen than to 
 weaken the authority of Ishmael. 
 
 In this disposition of mind the party contin- 
 ued their route toward the place whence they had 
 that morning issued on a search which had been 
 crowned with so melancholy a success. 
 
 The long and fruitless march which they had 
 made under the direction of Abiram, the dis- 
 covery of the body and its subsequent interment, 
 had so far consumed the day that, by the time 
 their steps were retraced across the broad tract 
 of waste which lay between the grave of Asa and 
 the rock, the sun had fallen far below his merid- 
 ian altitude. The hill had gradually risen as 
 they approached, like some tower emerging from 
 the bosom of the sea, and, when within a mile, 
 the minuter objects that crowned its height came 
 dimly into view. 
 
 “ It will be a sad meeting for the girls ! ” said 
 Ishmael, who, from time to time, did not cease to 
 utter something which he intended should be 
 consolatory to the bruised spirit of his partner. 
 “ Asa was much regarded by all the young, and 
 seldom failed to bring in from his hunts some- 
 thing that they loved.” 
 
 “ He did, he did,” murmured Esther ; “ the 
 boy was the pride of the family. My other chil- 
 dren are as nothing to him ! ” 
 
 “ Say not so, good woman,” returned the fa- 
 ther, glancing his eye a little proudly at the 
 athletic train which followed at no great distance 
 in the rear. “ Say not so, old Eester ; for few 
 fathers and mothers have greater reason to be 
 boastful than ourselves.” 
 
 “Thankful, thankful,” muttered the humble 
 woman ; “ ye mean thankful, Ishmael ! ” 
 
 “ Then thankful let it be, if you like the word 
 better, my good girl — but what has become of 
 Nelly and the young ? The child has forgotten 
 the charge I gave her, and has not only suffered 
 the children to sleep, but I warrant you is dream- 
 ing of the fields of Tennessee at this very moment. 
 The mind of your niece is mainly fixed on the set- 
 tlements, I reckon.” 
 
 “Ay, she is not for us ; I said it, and thought 
 it, when I took her, because death had stripped her 
 of all other friends. Death is a sad worker in the 
 bosom of families, Ishmael ! Asa had a kind feel- 
 ing to the child, and they might have come one 
 day into our places had things been so ordered.” 
 
 “ Nay, she is not gifted for a frontier wife, if 
 
 this is the manner she is to keep house while the 
 husband is on the hunt. — Abner, let off your rifle, 
 that they may know we ar’ coming. I fear Nelly 
 and the young ar’ asleep.” 
 
 The young man complied with an alacrity that 
 manifested how gladly he would see the rounded, 
 active figure of Ellen enlivening the ragged sum- 
 mit of the rock. But the report was succeeded by 
 neither signal nor answer of any sort. For a mo- 
 ment the whole party stood in suspense, awaiting 
 the result, and then a simultaneous impulse caused 
 the whole to let off their pieces at the same instant, 
 producing a noise which might not fail to reach 
 the ears of all within so short a distance 
 
 “ Ah ! there they come at last ! ” cried Abiram, 
 who was usually among the first to seize on any 
 circumstance which promised relief from disagree- 
 able apprehensions. 
 
 “It is a petticoat fluttering on the line,” said 
 Esther ; “ I put it there myself.” 
 
 “You are right; but now she comes; the 
 jade has been taking her comfort in the tent ! ” 
 
 “ It is not so,” said Ishmael, whose usually 
 inflexible features were beginning to manifest the 
 uneasiness he felt. “ It is the tent itself blowing 
 about loosely in the wind. They have loosened 
 the bottom, like silly children as they ar’, and, un- 
 less care is had, the whole will come down ! ” 
 
 The words were scarcely uttered before a rush- 
 ing blast of wind swept by the spot where they 
 stood, raising the dust in little eddies, in its prog- 
 ress ; and then, as if guided by a master-hand, 
 it quitted the earth, and mounted to the precise 
 spot on which all eyes were just then riveted. 
 The loosened linen felt its influence and tottered ; 
 but regained its poise, and for a moment it became 
 tranquil. The cloud of leaves next played in cir- 
 cling revolutions around the place, and then de- 
 scended with the velocity of a swooping hawk, 
 and sailed away into the prairie in long straight 
 lines, like a flight of swallows resting on their ex- 
 panded wings. They were followed for some dis- 
 tance by the snow-white tent, which, however, 
 soon fell behind the rock, leaving its highest peak 
 as naked as when it lay in the entire solitude of 
 the desert. 
 
 “The murderers have been here!” moaned 
 Esther. “ My babes ! my babes ! ” 
 
 For a moment even Ishmael faltered before the 
 weight of so unexpected a blow. But, shaking 
 himself like an awakened lion, he sprang forward, 
 and pushing aside the impediments of the barrier 
 as if they had been feathers, he rushed up the as- 
 cent with an impetuosity which proved how for- 
 midable a sluggish nature may become when thor- 
 oughly aroused. 
 
THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 *S 
 
 CHAPTER XrV. 
 
 * Whose party do the townsmen yet admit? ” 
 
 Kino John. 
 
 In order to preserve an even pace between 
 the incidents of the tale, it becomes necessary to 
 revert to such events as occurred during the ward 
 of Ellen Wade. 
 
 For the first few hours the cares of the honest 
 and warm-hearted girl were confined to the simple 
 offices of satisfying the often-repeated demands 
 which her younger associates made on her time 
 and patience, under the pretences of hunger, thirst, 
 and all the other ceaseless w r ants of captious and 
 inconsiderate childhood. She had seized a mo- 
 ment from their importunities to steal into the 
 tent, where she was administering to the comforts 
 of one far more deserving of her tenderness, when 
 an outcry among the children recalled her to the 
 duties she had momentarily forgotten. 
 
 “ See, Nelly, see ! ” exclaimed half a dozen 
 eager voices ; “ yonder ar’ men ; and Phoebe says 
 that they ar’ Sioux Indians 1 ” 
 
 Ellen turned her eyes in the direction in which 
 so many arms were already extended, and to her 
 consternation beheld several men advancing mani- 
 festly and swiftly in a straight line toward the 
 rock. She counted four, but was unable to make 
 out any thing concerning their characters, except 
 that they were not any of those who of right were 
 entitled to admission into the fortress. It was a 
 fearful moment for Ellen. Looking around at the 
 juvenile and frightened flock that pressed npon 
 the skirts of her garments, she endeavored to re- 
 call to her confused faculties some one of the 
 many' tales of female heroism with which the his- 
 tory of the Western frontier abounded. In one 
 a stockade had been successfully defended by a 
 single man, supported by three or four women, for 
 days, against the assaults of a hundred enemies. 
 In another, the women alone had been able to 
 protect the children, and the less valuable effects 
 of tneir absent husbands ; and a third was not 
 wanting, in which a solitary female had destroyed 
 her sleeping captors and given liberty not only to 
 herself, but to a brood of helpless young. This 
 was the case most nearly assimilated to the situa- 
 tion in which Ellen now found herself ; and, with 
 flushing cheeks and kindling eyes, the girl began 
 to consider, and to prepare her slender means of 
 defence. 
 
 She posted the larger girls at the little levers 
 that were to cast the rocks on the assailants ; the 
 smaller were to be used more for show than any 
 positive service they could perform ; while like 
 
 any other leader she reserved her own person a? 
 a superintendent and encourager of the whole. 
 When these dispositions were made, she endeav- 
 ored to await the issue with an air of composure 
 that she intended should inspire her assistants 
 with the confidence necessary to insure success. 
 
 Although Ellen was vastly their superior in 
 that spirit which emanates from moral qualities, 
 she was by no means the equal of the two eldest 
 daughters of Esther, in the important military 
 property of insensibility to danger. Reared in 
 the hardihood of a migrating life on the skirts of 
 society, where they had become familiarized to 
 the sights and dangers of the wilderness, these 
 girls promised fairly to become, at some future 
 day, no less distinguished than their mother for 
 daring, and for that singular mixture of good and 
 evil which, in a wider sphere of action, would 
 probably have enabled the wife of the squatter to 
 enroll her name among the remarkable females 
 of her time. Esther had already, on one occa- 
 sion, made good the log tenement of Ishmael 
 against an inroad of savages ; and, on another, 
 she had been left for dead by her enemies, after 
 a defence that, with a more civilized foe, would 
 have entitled her to the honors of a liberal capitu 
 lation. These facts, and sundry others of a simi 
 lar nature, had often been recapitulated with 
 suitable exultation in the presence of her daugh- 
 ters, and the bosoms of the young Amazons were 
 now strangely fluctuating between natural terror 
 and the ambitious wish to do something that 
 might render them worthy of being the children 
 of such a mother. It appeared that the oppor- 
 tunity for distinction of this wild character was 
 no longer to be denied them. 
 
 The party of strangers was already within a 
 hundred rods of the rock. Either consulting their 
 usual wary method of advancing, or admonished 
 by the threatening attitude of two figures, who 
 had thrust forth the barrels of as many old mus- 
 kets from behind the stone intrenchment, the new 
 comers halted, under favor of an inequality in the 
 ground, where a growth of grass thicker than 
 common offered the advantage of concealment. 
 From this spot they reconnoitred the fortress for 
 several anxious, and, to Ellen, interminable min- 
 utes. Then one advanced singly, and apparently 
 more in the character of a herald than of an as- 
 sailant. 
 
 “ Phoebe, do you fire,” and “ No, Hetty, you” 
 were beginning to be heard between the half- 
 frightened and yet eager daughters of the squatter, 
 when Ellen probably saved the advancing stranger 
 from some imminent alarm, if from no greater 
 danger, by exclaiming — 
 
THE DOCTOR’S SUMMONS. 
 
 78 
 
 “Lay down the muskets ; it is Dr. Battius!” 
 
 Her subordinates so far complied as to with- 
 draw their hands from the locks, though the 
 threatening barrels still maintained the portentous 
 levels. The naturalist, who bad advanced with 
 sufficient deliberation to note the smallest hostile 
 demonstration of the garrison, now raised a white 
 handkerchief on the end of bis fusee, and came 
 within speaking distance of the fortress. Then, 
 assuming what he intended should be an imposing 
 and dignified semblance of authority, he blustered 
 forth, in a voice that might have been heard at a 
 much greater distance : 
 
 “ What, ho ! I summon ye all, in the name of 
 -he Confederacy of the United Sovereign States 
 of North America, to submit yourselves to the 
 la ws.” 
 
 “ Doctor or no doctor, he is an enemy, Nelly. 
 H^r him ! hear him ! He talks of the law.” 
 
 ‘ Stop ! stay till I hear his answer ! ” said the 
 neai iy breathless Ellen, pushing aside the danger- 
 ous weapons which were again pointed in the 
 direction of the shrinking person of the herald. 
 
 “ I admonish and forewarn ye all,” continued 
 the staitled doctor, “ that I am a peaceful citi- 
 zen of the before-named Confederacy, or, to speak 
 with greater accuracy, Union, a supporter of the 
 social compact, and a lover of good order and 
 amity ; ” then, perceiving that the danger was at 
 least temporarily removed, he once more raised 
 his voice to the hostile pitch : “ I charge ye all, 
 therefore, to submit to the laws.” 
 
 “ I thought you were a friend,” Ellen replied, 
 “ and that you travelled with my uncle, in virtue 
 of an agreement — ” 
 
 “It is void! I have been deceived in the 
 very premises, and I hereby pronounce a certain 
 compactum, entered into and concluded between 
 Ishmael Bush, squatter, and Obed Battius, M. D., 
 to be incontinently null and of non-effect. — Nay, 
 children, to be null is merely a negative property, 
 and is fraught with no evil to your worthy par- 
 ent ; so lay aside the fire-arms, and listen to the 
 admonitions of reason. I declare it vicious — null 
 — abrogated. — As for thee, Nelly, my feelings 
 toward thee are not at all given to hostility; 
 therefore listen to that which I have to utter, nor 
 turn away thine ears in the wantonness of secu- 
 rity. Thou knowest the character of the man 
 with whom thou dwellest, young woman, and thou 
 also knowest the danger of being found in evil 
 company. Abandon, then, the trifling advantages 
 of thy situation, and yield the rock peaceably to 
 the will of those who accompany me — a legion, 
 young woman — I do assure you an invincible and 
 powerful legion ! Render therefore, the effects 
 
 57 
 
 of this lawless and wicked squatter — nay, chil- 
 dren, such disregard of human life is frightful in 
 those who have so recently received the gift, in 
 their own persons ! Point those dangerous 
 weapons aside, I entreat of you ; more for your 
 own sakes than for mine. — Hetty, hast thou for- 
 gotten who appeased thine anguish, when thy 
 auricular nerves were tortured by the colds and 
 damps of the naked earth ? — And thou, Phoebe, 
 ungrateful and forgetful Phoebe ! but for this very 
 arm, which you would prostrate with an endless 
 paralysis, thy incisores would still be giving thee 
 pain and sorrow ! Lay, then, aside thy weapons, 
 and hearken to the advice of one who has always 
 been thy friend. — And now, young woman,” still 
 keeping a jealous eye on the muskets which the 
 girl had suffered to be diverted a little from their 
 aim— “ and now, young woman, for the last, and 
 therefore the most solemn asking : I demand of 
 thee the surrender of this rock, without delay or 
 resistance, in the joint names of power, of justice, 
 and of the — ” law, he would have added ; but, 
 recollecting that this ominous word would again 
 provoke the hostility of the squatter’s children, 
 he succeeded in swallowing it in good season, and 
 concluded with the less dangerous and more con- 
 vertible term of “ reason.” 
 
 This extraordinary summons failed, however, 
 of producing the desired effect. It proved utterly 
 unintelligible to his younger listeners, with the 
 exception of the few offensive terms, already 
 sufficiently distinguished ; and, though Ellen bet- 
 ter comprehended the meaning of the herald, she 
 appeared as little moved by his rhetoric as her 
 companions. At those passages which he intend- 
 ed should be tender and affecting, the intelligent 
 girl, though tortured by painful feelings, had even 
 manifested a disposition to laugh, while to the 
 threats she turned an utterly insensible ear. 
 
 “ I know not the meaning of all you wish to 
 say, Dr. Battius,” she quietly replied, when he 
 had ended ; “ but I am sure, if it would teach me 
 to betray my trust, it is what I ought not to hear. 
 I caution you to attempt no violence, for, let my 
 wishes be what they may, you see I am surround- 
 ed by a force that can easily put me down, and 
 you know, or ought to know, too well the temper 
 of this family, to trifle in such a matter with any 
 of its members, let them be of what sex or ago 
 they may.” 
 
 “ I am not entirely ignorant of human char- 
 acter,” returned the naturalist, prudently reced- 
 ing a little from the position which he had until 
 now stoutly maintained at the very base cf the 
 hill. “But here comes one who may know its 
 secret windings still better than I,” 
 
74 
 
 THE PRAIRIE, 
 
 “Ellen! Ellen Wade,” cried Paul Hover, who 
 had advanced to his elbow, without betraying 
 any of that sensitiveness which had so manifestly 
 discomposed the doctor ; “ I didn’t expect to find 
 an enemy in you ! ” 
 
 “ Nor shall you, when you ask that which I 
 can grant without treachery. You know that my 
 uncle has trusted his family to my care, and shall 
 I so far betray the trust as to let in his bitterest 
 enemies to murder his children, perhaps, and to 
 rob him of the little which the Indians have 
 left ? ” 
 
 “Am I a murderer — is this old man — this 
 officer of the States,” pointing to the trapper and 
 his newly-discovered friend, both of whom by 
 this time stood at his side, “ is either of these 
 likely to do the things you name ? ” 
 
 “ What is it then you ask of me ? ” said Ellen, 
 wringing her hands, in excessive doubt. 
 
 “ The beast ! nothing more nor less than the 
 squatter’s hidden, ravenous, dangerous beast ! ” 
 
 “Excellent young woman,” commenced the 
 young Stranger, who had so lately joined himself 
 to the party on the prairie — but his mouth was 
 immediately stopped by a significant sign from 
 the trapper, who whispered in his ear : 
 
 “ Let the lad be our spokesman. Natur’ will 
 work in the bosom of the child, and we shall gain 
 our object in good time.” 
 
 “ The whole truth is out, Ellen,” Paul con- 
 tinued, “ and we have lined the squatter into his 
 most secret misdoings. We have come to right 
 the wronged and to free the imprisoned ; now, if 
 you are the girl of a true heart, as I have always 
 believed, so far from throwing straws in our way, 
 you will join in the general swarming, and leave 
 old Ishmael and his hive to the bees of his own 
 breed.” 
 
 “ I have sworn a solemn oath — ” 
 
 “ A compactum which is entered into through 
 ignorance, or in duresse, is null in the sight of all 
 good moralists,” cried the doctor. 
 
 “ Hush, hush ! ” again the trapper whispered ; 
 “leave it all to Natur’ and the lad ! ” 
 
 “ I have sworn in the sight and by the name 
 of Him who is the founder and ruler of all that 
 is good, whether it be in morals or in rfeligion,” 
 Ellen continued, “ neither to reveal the contents 
 of that tent nor to help its prisoner to escape. 
 We are both solemnly, terribly sworn; our lives 
 perhaps have been the gift we received for the 
 promises. It is true you are masters of the 
 secret, but not through any means of ours ; nor 
 do I know that I can justify myself for even be- 
 ing neutral, while you attempt to invade the 
 dwelling of my uncle in this hostile manner.” 
 
 “I can prove beyond the power of lefuta- 
 tion,” the naturalist eagerly exclaimed, “by 
 Paley, Berkeley, ay, even by the immortal Binker- 
 shoeck, that a compactum, concluded while one 
 of the parties, be it a state or be it an individual, 
 is in durance — ” 
 
 “You will ruffle the temper of the child with 
 your abusive language,” said the cautious trapper, 
 “while the lad, if left to human feelings, will 
 bring her down to the meekness of a fawn. Ah ! 
 you are like myself, little knowing in the natur’ 
 of hidden kindnesses 1” 
 
 “ Is this the only vow you have taken, Ellen ? ” 
 Paul continued, in a tone which, for the gay, light- 
 hearted bee-hunter, sounded dolorous and re- 
 proachful. “Have you sworn only to this? are 
 the words which the squatter says to be as honey 
 in your mouth, and all other promises like so 
 much useless comb ? ” 
 
 The paleness which had taken possession of 
 the usually cheerful countenance of Ellen was 
 hid in a bright glow that was plainly visible even 
 at the distance at which she stood. She hesitated 
 a moment, as if struggling to repress something 
 very like resentment, before she answered with 
 all her native spirit : 
 
 “ I know not what right any one has to ques- 
 tion me about oaths and promises, which can 
 only concern her who has made them, if, indeed, 
 any of the sort you mention have ever been 
 made at all. I shall hold no further discourse 
 with one who thinks so much of himself, and 
 takes advice merely of his own feelings.” 
 
 “ Now, old trapper, do you hear that ? ” said 
 the unsophisticated bee-hunter, turning abruptly 
 to his aged friend. “ The meanest insect that 
 skims the heavens, when it has got its load, flies 
 straight and honestly to its nest or hive, accord- 
 ing to its kind ; but the ways of a woman’s mind 
 are as knotty as a gnarled oak, and more crooked 
 than the windings of the Mississippi ! ” 
 
 “Nay, nay, child,” said the trapper, good- 
 naturedly interfering in behalf of the offending 
 Paul, “ you are to consider that youth is hasty, 
 and not overgiven to thought. But then a prom- 
 ise is a promise, and not to be thrown aside and 
 forgotten, like the hoofs and horns of a buffalo.” 
 
 “ I thank you for reminding me of my oath,” 
 said the still resentful Ellen, biting her pretty 
 nether lip with vexation; “I might else have 
 proved forgetful ! * 
 
 “ Ah ! female natur’ is awakened in her,” said 
 the old man, shaking his head in a manner to 
 show how much he was disappointed in the result; 
 “ but it manifests itself against the true spirit.” 
 
 “Ellen ! ” cried the young stranger, who until 
 
STORMING THE CITADEL. 
 
 75 
 
 n ow had been an attentive listener to the parley, 
 “ since Ellen is the name by which you are 
 known — ” 
 
 “ They often add it to another. I am some- 
 times called by the name of my father.” 
 
 “Call her Nelly Wade at once,” muttered 
 Faul; “it is her rightful name, and I care not if 
 she keeps it forever ! ” 
 
 “Wade, I should have added,” continued the 
 youth. “You will acknowledge that, though 
 bound by no oath myself, I at least have known 
 how to respect those of others. You are a wit- 
 ness yourself that I have forborne to utter a 
 single call, while I am certain it could reach those 
 ears it would gladden so much. Permit me, then, 
 to ascend the rock, singly; I promise a perfect 
 indemnity to your kinsman, against any injury 
 his effects may sustain.” 
 
 Ellen seemed to hesitate, but catching a 
 glimpse of Paul, who stood leaning proudly on his 
 rifle, whistling, with an appearance of the utmost 
 indifference, the air of a boating-song, she recov- 
 ered her recollection in time to answer : 
 
 “ I have been left the captain of the rock, 
 while my uncle and his sons hunt, and captain 
 will I remain till he returns to receive back the 
 charge.” 
 
 “This is wasting moments that will not soon 
 return, and neglecting an opportunity that may 
 never occur again,” the young soldier gravely re- 
 marked. “ The sun is beginning to fall already, 
 and many minutes cannot elapse before the squat- 
 ter and his savage brood will be returning to their 
 huts.” 
 
 Dr. Battius cast a glance behind him, and 
 took up the discourse, by saying : 
 
 “Perfection is always found in maturity, 
 whether it be in the animal or in the intellectual 
 world. Reflection is the mother of wnsdom, and 
 wisdom the parent of success. I propose that we 
 retire to a discreet distance from this impregnable 
 position, and there hold a convocation, or council, 
 to deliberate on what manner we may sit down 
 regularly before the place ; or, perhaps, by post- 
 poning the siege to another season, gain the aid 
 of auxiliaries from the inhabited countries, and 
 thus secure the dignity of the laws from any dan- 
 ger of a repulse.” 
 
 “ A storm would be better,” the soldier smil- 
 ingly answered, measuring the height and scan- 
 ning all its difficulties with a deliberate eye; 
 “ ’twould be but a broken arm or a bruised head 
 at the worst.” 
 
 “Then have at it! ’’shouted the impetuous 
 bee-hunter, making a spring that at once put him 
 out of danger from shot, by carrying him beneath 
 
 the projecting ledge on which the garrison was 
 posted. “ Now do your worst, young devils of a 
 wicked breed ; you have but a moment to work 
 your mischief ! ” 
 
 “ Paul ! rash Paul ! ” shrieked Ellen ; “ anoth- 
 er step and the rocks will crush you ! they hang 
 but by a thread, and these girls are ready and 
 willing to let them fall ! ” 
 
 “Then drive the accursed swarm from the 
 hive ; for scale the rock I will, though I find it 
 covered with hornets.” 
 
 “ Let her if she dare ! ” tauntingly cried the 
 eldest of the girls, brandishing a musket with a 
 mien and resolution that would have done credit 
 to her Amazonian dam. “ I know you, Nelly 
 Wade; you are with the lawyers in your heart, 
 and, if you come a foot nigher, you shall have 
 frontier punishment. — Put in another pry, girls ; 
 in with it ! I should like to see the man of them 
 all that dare come up into the camp of Ishmael 
 Bush, without asking leave of his children ! ” 
 
 “ Stir not, Paul ; for your life keep beneath 
 the rock ! ” 
 
 Ellen was interrupted by the same bright vis- 
 ion, which on the preceding day had stayed an- 
 other scarcely less portentous tumult, by exhibit- 
 ing itself on the same giddy height where it was 
 now seen. 
 
 “ In the name of Him who commandeth all, I 
 implore you to pause — both you, who so madly 
 incur the risk, and you, who so rashly offer to 
 take that which you never can return ! ” said a 
 voice, in a slightly foreign accent, that instantly 
 drew all eyes upward. 
 
 “ Inez ! ” cried the officer, “ do I again see you ? 
 mine shall you now be, though a million devils 
 were posted on this rock. Push up, brave woods- 
 man, and give room for another ! ” 
 
 The sudden appearance of the figure from the 
 tent had created a momentary stupor among the 
 defenders of the rock, which might, with suitable 
 forbearance, have been happily improved ; but, 
 startled by the voice of Middleton, the surprised 
 Phoebe discharged her musket at the female, 
 scarcely knowing whether she aimed at the life 
 of a mortal or at some being which belonged to 
 another world. Ellen uttered a cry of horror, 
 and then sprang after her alarmed or wounded 
 friend, she knew not which, into the tent. 
 
 During this moment of dangerous by-play, the 
 sounds of a serious attack were very distinctly 
 audible beneath. Paul had profited by the com- 
 motion over his head to change his place so far 
 as to make room for Middleton. The latter was 
 followed by the naturalist, who, in a state of men- 
 tal aberration, produced by the report of tin 
 
76 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 musket, had instinctively rushed toward the rocks 
 for cover. The trapper remained where he was 
 iast seen, an unmoved but close observer of the 
 several proceedings. Though averse to enter into 
 actual hostilities, the old man was, however, far 
 from being useless. Favored by his position, he 
 was enabled to apprise his friends of the move- 
 ments of those who plotted their destruction above, 
 and to advise and control their advance accord- 
 
 In the mean time, the children of Esther were 
 true to the spirit they had inherited from their 
 redoubtable mother. The instant they found 
 themselves delivered from the presence of Ellen 
 and her unknown companion, they bestowed an 
 undivided attention on their more masculine and 
 certainly more dangerous assailants, who by this 
 time had made a complete lodgment among the 
 crags of the citadel. The repeated summons to 
 surrender, which Paul uttered in a voice that he 
 intended should strike terror into their young 
 bosoms, were as little heeded as were the calls of 
 the trapper to abandon a resistance which might 
 prove fatal to some among them, without offering 
 the smallest probability of eventual success. En- 
 couraging each other to persevere, they poised the 
 fragments of rocks, prepared the lighter missiles 
 for immediate service, and thrust forward the 
 barrels of the muskets with a business-like air, 
 and a coolness that would have done credit to men 
 practised in warfare. 
 
 “Keep under the ledge,” said the trapper, 
 pointing out to Paul the manner in which he 
 should proceed ; “ keep in your foot . more, lad — 
 ah ! you see the warning was not amiss ! had the 
 stone struck it, the bees would have had the 
 prairies to themselves. Now, namesake of my 
 friend ; Uncas, in name and spirit ! now, if you 
 have the activity of Le Cerf Agile, you may make 
 a fair leap to the right, and gain twenty feet with- 
 out danger. Beware the bush — beware the bush ! 
 ’twill prove a treacherous hold ! Ah ! he has done 
 it ; safely and bravely has he done it ! — Your 
 turn comes next, friend, that follows the fruits of 
 Natur’. Push you to the left, and divide the at- 
 tention of the children. — Nay, girls, fire — my old 
 ears are used to the whistling of lead ; and little 
 reason have I to prove a doe-heart, with fourscore 
 years on my back.” He shook his head with a 
 melancholy smile, but without flinching in a mus- 
 cle, as the bullet, which the exasperated Hetty 
 fired, passed innocently at no great distance from 
 the spot where he stood. “ It is safer keeping 
 in your track than dodging when a weak finger 
 pulls the trigger,” he continued ; “ but it is a sol- 
 emn sight to witness how much human natur’ is 
 
 inclined to evil, in one so young ! — Well done, my 
 man of beasts and plants ! Another such leap, 
 and you may laugh at all the squatter’s bars and 
 walls. The doctor has got his temper up ! 1 see 
 
 it in his eye, and something good will come of him l 
 — Keep closer, man — keep closer.” 
 
 The trapper, though he was not deceived as 
 to the state of Dr. Battius’s mind, was, however, 
 greatly in error as to the exciting cause. While 
 imitating the movements of his companions, and 
 toiling his way upward with the utmost caution, 
 and not without great inward tribulation, the eye 
 of the naturalist had caught a glimpse of an un- 
 known plant, a few yards above his head, and in a 
 situation more than commonly exposed to the mis- 
 siles which the girls were unceasingly hurling in 
 the direction of the assailants. Forgetting, in an 
 instant, every thing but the glory of being the 
 first to give this jewel to the catalogues of science, 
 he sprang upward at the prize with the avidity 
 with which the sparrow darts upon the butterfly. 
 The rocks, which instantly came thundering down, 
 announced that he was seen ; and for a moment, 
 while his form was concealed in the cloud of dust 
 and fragments which followed the furious descent, 
 the trapper gave him up for lost ; but the next 
 instant he was seen safely seated in a cavity, 
 formed by some of the projecting stones which 
 had yielded to the shock, holding triumphantly 
 in his hand the captured stem, which he was al- 
 ready devouring with delighted and certainly not 
 unskilful eyes. Paul profited by the opportuni- 
 ty. Turning his course, with the qnickness of 
 thought, he sprang to the post which Obed thus 
 securely occupied, . and unceremoniously making 
 a footstool of his shoulder, as the latter stooped 
 over his treasure, he bounded through the breach 
 left by the fallen rock, and gained the level. He 
 was followed by Middleton, who joined him in 
 seizing and disarming the girls. In this manner 
 a bloodless and complete victory was obtained 
 over that citadel which Ishmael had vainly flat- 
 tered himself might prove impregnable. 
 
 CHAPTER XY 
 
 “ So smile the heavens upon this holy act, 
 
 That after-hours of sorrow chide us not!” 
 
 Shakespeabb. 
 
 It is proper that the course of the narrative 
 should be stayed while we revert to those causes 
 which have brought in their train of consequences 
 the singular contest just related. The interruption 
 must necessarily be as brief as we hope it maj 
 
INEZ, THE SPANISH HEIRESS. 
 
 11 
 
 prove satisfactory to that class of readers who 
 require that no gap should be left by those who 
 assume the office of historians, for their own fer- 
 tile imaginations to fill. 
 
 Among the troops sent by the Government of 
 the United States, to take possession of its newly- 
 acquired territory in the West, was a detachment 
 led by the young soldier who has become so busy 
 an actor in the scenes of our legend. The mild 
 and indolent descendants of the ancient colonists 
 received their new compatriots without distrust, 
 well knowing that the transfer raised them from 
 the condition of subjects to the more enviable dis- 
 tinction of citizens in a government of laws. The 
 new rulers exercised their functions with discre- 
 tion, and wielded their delegated authority with- 
 out offence. In such a novel intermixture, how- 
 ever, of men born and nurtured in freedom, and 
 the compliant minions of absolute power, the 
 Catholic and the Protestant, the active and the in- 
 dolent, some little time was necessary to blend the 
 discrepant elements of society. In attaining so 
 desirable an end, woman was made to perform 
 her accustomed and grateful office. The barriers 
 of prejudice and religion were broken through by 
 the irresistible power of the master-passion ; and 
 family unions, ere long, began to cement the po- 
 litical tie which had made a forced conjunction 
 between people so opposite in their habits, their 
 educations, and their opinions. 
 
 Middleton was among the first of the new pos- 
 sessors of the soil who became captive to the 
 charms of a Louisianian lady. In the immediate 
 vicinity of the post he had been directed to occu- 
 py, dwelt the chief of one of those ancient colo- 
 nial families which had been content to slumber 
 for ages amid the ease, indolence, and wealth of 
 the Spanish provinces. He was an officer of 
 the crown, and had been induced to remove from 
 the Floridas, among the French of the adjoining 
 province, by a rich succession of which he had be- 
 come the inheritor. The name of Don Augustin 
 de Certavallos was scarcely known beyond the lim- 
 its of the little town in which he resided, though 
 he found a secret pleasure himself in pointing it 
 out, in large scrolls of musty documents, to an 
 only child, as enrolled among the former heroes 
 and grandees of Old and of New Spain. This fact, 
 so important to himself and of so little moment to 
 anybody else, was the principal reason that, while 
 his more vivacious Gallic neighbors were not slow 
 to open a frank communion with their visitors, he 
 chose to keep aloof, seemingly content with the 
 society of his daughter, who was a girl just emerg- 
 ing from the condition of childhood into that of a 
 woman. 
 
 The curiosity of the youthful Inez, however, 
 was not so inactive. She had not heard the mar- 
 tial music of the garrison melting on the evening 
 air, nor seen the strange banner which fluttered 
 over the heights that rose at no great distance 
 from her father’s extensive grounds, without ex- 
 periencing some of those secret impulses which are 
 thought to distinguish the sex. Natural timidity, 
 and that retiring and perhaps peculiar lassitude 
 which forms the very groundwork of femal fasci- 
 nation in the tropical provinoes of Spain, held her in 
 their seemingly indissoluble bonds ; and it is more 
 than probable that, had not an accident occurred, 
 in which Middleton was of some personal service 
 to her father, so long a time would have elapsed 
 before they met, that another direction might 
 have been given to the wishes of one who was 
 just of an age to be alive to all the power of youth 
 and beauty. 
 
 Providence — or, if that imposing word is too 
 just to be classical, fate — had otherwise decreed, 
 The haughty and reserved Don Augustin was by 
 far too observant of the forms of that station on 
 which he so much valued himself, to forget the 
 duties of a gentleman. Gratitude for the kind- 
 ness of Middleton induced him to open his doors 
 to the officers of the garrison, and to admit of a 
 guarded but polite intercourse. Reserve gradual- 
 ly gave way before the propriety and candor of 
 their spirited young leader, and it was not long 
 ere the affluent planter rejoiced as much as his 
 daughter, whenever the well-known signal at the 
 gate announced one of these agreeable visits from 
 the commander of the post. 
 
 It is unnecessary to dwell on the impression 
 which the charms of Inez produced on the soldier, 
 to delay the tale in order to write a wire-drawn 
 account of the progressive influence that elegance 
 of deportment, manly beauty, and undivided assi- 
 duity and intelligence, were likely to produce on the 
 sensitive mind of a romantic, warm-hearted, and 
 secluded girl of sixteen. It is sufficient for our 
 purpose to say that they loved, that the youth was 
 not backward to declare his feelings, that he pre- 
 vailed with some facility over the scruples of the 
 maiden, and with no little difficulty over the ob- 
 jections of her father, and that, before the prov- 
 ince of Louisiana had been six months in the pos- 
 session of the States, the officer of the latter was 
 the affianced husband of the richest heiress on the 
 banks of the Mississippi. 
 
 Although we have presumed the reader to be 
 acquainted with the manner in which such re- 
 sults are commonly attained, it is not to be sup- 
 posed that the triumph of Middleton, either over 
 the prejudices of the father, or over those of the 
 
78 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 daughter, was achieved without difficulty. Reli- 
 gion formed a stubborn and nearly irremovable 
 obstacle with both. The devoted young man pa- 
 tiently submitted to a formidable essay which Fa- 
 ther Ignatius was deputed to make in order to 
 convert him to the true faith. The effort on the 
 part of the worthy priest was systematic, vigor- 
 ous, and long sustained. A dozen times (it was at 
 those moments when glimpses of the light, sylph - 
 like form of Inez flitted like some fairy being past 
 the scene of their conferences) the good father 
 fancied he was on the eve of a glorious triumph 
 over infidelity; but all his hopes were frustrated 
 by some unlooked-for opposition on the part of 
 the subject of his pious labors. So long as the as- 
 sault on his faith was distant and feeble, Middle- 
 ton, who was no great proficient in polemics, sub- 
 mitted to its effects with the patience and humil- 
 ity of a martyr ; but the moment the good father, 
 who felt such concern in his future happiness, was 
 tempted to improve his vantage-ground by calling 
 in the aid of some of the peculiar subtilties of his 
 own creed, the young man was too good a soldier 
 not to make head against the hot attack. He came 
 to the contest, it is true, with no weapons more 
 formidable than common-sense, and some little 
 knowledge of the habits of his country as con- 
 trasted with that of his adversary ; but with these 
 home-bred implements he never failed to repulse 
 the father with something of the power with 
 which a nervous cudgel-player would deal with a 
 skilful master of the rapier, setting at naught his 
 passados by the direct and unanswerable argu- 
 ments of a broken head and a shivered weapon. 
 
 Before the controversy was teiminated, an in- 
 road of Protestants had come to aid the soldier. 
 The reckless freedom of such among them as 
 thought only of this life, and the consistent and 
 tempered piety of others, caused the honest priest 
 to look about him in concern. The influence of 
 example on the one hand, and the contamination 
 of too free an intercourse on the other, began to 
 manifest themselves even in that portion of his 
 own flock which he had supposed to be too thor- 
 oughly folded in spiritual government ever to stray. 
 It was time to turn his thoughts from the offen- 
 sive, and to prepare his followers to resist the 
 lawless deluge of opinion which threatened to 
 break down the barriers of their faith. Like a 
 wise commander who finds he has occupied too 
 much ground for the amount of hi3 force, he be- 
 gan to curtail his outworks. The relics were con- 
 cealed from profane eyes ; his people were admon- 
 ished not to speak of miracles before a race that 
 not only denied their existence, but who had even 
 the desperate hardihood to challenge their proofs ; 
 
 and even the Bible itself was prohibited with ter- 
 rible denunciations, for the triumphant reason that 
 it was liable to be misinterpreted. 
 
 In the mean time It became necessary to re- 
 port to Don Augustin the effects his arguments 
 and prayers had produced on the heretical dispo- 
 sition of the young soldier. No man is prone to 
 confess his weakness at the very moment when 
 circumstances demand the utmost efforts of his 
 strength. By a species of pious fraud, for which 
 no doubt the worthy priest found his absolution 
 in the purity of his motives, he declared that, while 
 no positive change was actually wrought in the 
 mind of Middleton, there was every reason to hope 
 the entering wedge of argument had been driven 
 to its head, and that in consequence an opening 
 was left through which it might rationally be 
 hoped the blessed seeds of a religious fructifica- 
 tion would find their way, especially if the subject 
 was left uninterruptedly to enjoy the advantage 
 of Catholic communion. 
 
 Don Augustin himself was now seized with 
 the desire of proselyting. Even the soft and 
 amiable Inez thought it would be a glorious con- 
 summation of her wishes to be a humble instru- 
 ment of bringing her lover into the bosom of the 
 true Church, The offers of Middleton were 
 promptly accepted ; and, while the father looked 
 forward impatiently to the day assigned for the 
 nuptials as to the pledge of his own success, the 
 daughter thought of it with feelings in which the 
 holy emotions of her faith were blended with the 
 softer sensations of her years and situation. 
 
 The sun rose, the morning of her nuptials, on 
 a day so bright and cloudless that Inez hailed it 
 as a harbinger of future happiness. Father Igna- 
 tius performed the offices of the Church in a little 
 chapel attached to the estate of Don Augustin ; 
 and, long ere the sun had begun to fall, Middleton 
 pressed the blushing and timid young creole to 
 his bosom, his acknowledged and unalienable wife. 
 It had pleased the parties to pass the day of the 
 wedding in retirement, dedicating it solely to the 
 best and purest affections, aloof from the noisy 
 and heartless rejoicings of a compelled festivity. 
 
 Middleton was returning through the grounds 
 of Don Augustin, from a visit of duty to his en- 
 campment, at that hour in which the light of the 
 sun begins to melt into the shadows of evening, 
 when a glimpse of a robe similar to that in which 
 Inez had accompanied him to the altar, caught his 
 eye through the foliage of a retired arbor. He 
 approached the spot with a delicacy that was 
 rather increased than diminished by the claim she 
 had perhaps given him to intrude on her private 
 moments ; but the sounds of her soft voice which 
 
CAPTAIN MIDDLETON AND HIS BRIDE. 
 
 79 
 
 was offering up prayers in which he heard himself 
 named by the dearest of all appellations, over- 
 came his scruples, and induced him to take a 
 position where he might listen without fear of 
 detection. It was certainly grateful to the feel- 
 ings of a husband to be able in this manner to lay 
 bare the spotless soul of his wife, and to find that 
 , his own image lay enshrined amid its purest and 
 holiest aspirations. His self-esteem was too much 
 flattered not to induce him to overlook the immedi- 
 ate object of the petitioner. While she prayed 
 that she might become the humble instrument of 
 bringing him into the flock of the faithful, she 
 petitioned for forgiveness on her own behalf, if 
 presumption or indifference to the counsel of the 
 Church had caused her to set too high a value on 
 her influence and led her into the dangerous error 
 of hazarding her own soul by espousing a heretic. 
 There was so much of fervent piety mingled with 
 so strong a burst of natural feeling, so much of 
 the woman blended with the angel in her prayers, 
 that Middleton could have forgiven her had she 
 termed him a pagan, for the sweetness and inter- 
 est with which she petitioned in his favor. 
 
 The young man waited until his bride arose 
 from her knees, and then he joined her, as if en- 
 tirely ignorant of what had occurred. 
 
 “ It is getting late, my Inez,” he said, “ and 
 Don Augustin would be apt to reproach you with 
 inattention to your health, in being abroad at such 
 an hour. What, then, am I to do, who am charged 
 with all his authority, and twice his love ? ” 
 
 “ Be like him in every thing,” she answered, 
 looking up in his face, with tears in her eyes, and 
 speaking with emphasis ; “ in every thing. Imi- 
 tate my father, Middleton, and I can ask no more 
 of you.” 
 
 “ Nor for me, Inez ? I doubt not that I should 
 be all you can Wish, were I to become as good as 
 the worthy and respectable Don Augustin. But 
 you are to make some allowances for the infirmi- 
 ties and habits of a soldier. Now let us go and 
 join this excellent father.” 
 
 “ Not yet,” said his bride, gently extricating 
 herself from the arm that he had thrown around 
 her slight form, while he urged her from the place. 
 
 “ I have still another duty to perform, before I 
 can submit so implicitly to your orders, soldier 
 though you are. I promised the worthy Inesella, 
 my faithful nurse, she who, as you heard, has so 
 long been a mother to me, Middleton — I promised 
 her a visit at this hour. It is the last, as she 
 thinks, that she can receive from her own child, 
 and I cannot disappoint her. Go you, then, to 
 Don Augustin ; in one short hour I will rejoin you.” 
 
 “ Remember it is but an hour ! ” I 
 
 “ One hour,” repeated Inez, as she kissed her 
 hand to him ; and then blushing, ashamed at her 
 own boldness, she darted from the arbor, and was 
 seen for an instant gliding toward the cottage of 
 her nurse, in which at the next moment she 
 disappeared. 
 
 Middleton returned slowly and thoughtfully 
 to the house, often bending his eyes in the direc- 
 tion in which he had last seen his wife, as if he 
 would fain trace her lovely form, in the gloom of 
 the evening, still floating through the vacant 
 space. Don Augustin received him with warmth, 
 and for many minutes his mind was amused by 
 relating to his new kinsman plans for the future. 
 The exclusive old Spaniard listened to his glow- 
 ing but true account of the prosperity and happi- 
 ness of those States of which he had been an ig- 
 norant neighbor half his life, partly in wonder 
 and partly with that sort of incredulity with which 
 one attends to what he fancies are the exagger- 
 ated descriptions of a too partial friendship. 
 
 In this manner the hour for which Inez had 
 conditioned passed away much sooner than her 
 husband could have thought possible, in her ab- 
 sence. At length his looks began to wander to 
 the clock, and then the minutes were counted, as 
 one rolled by after another, and Inez did not ap- 
 pear. The hand had already made half of an- 
 other circuit around the face of the dial, when 
 Middleton arose and announced his determination 
 to go and offer himself as an escort to the absen- 
 tee. He found the night dark and the heavens 
 charged with threatening vapor, which in that 
 climate was the infallible forerunner of a gust. 
 Stimulated no less by the unpropitious aspect of 
 the skies than by his secret uneasiness, he quick- 
 ened his pace, making long and rapid strides in 
 the direction of the cottage of Inesella. Twenty 
 times he stopped, fancying that he caught glimpses 
 of the fairy form of Inez, tripping across the 
 grounds on her return to the mansion-house, and 
 as often he was obliged to resume his course in 
 disappointment. He reached the gate of the cot- 
 tage, knocked, opened the door, entered, and 
 even stood in the presence of the aged nurse, 
 without meeting the person of her he sought. 
 She had already left the place on her return to 
 her father’s house ! Believing that he must have 
 passed her in the darkness, Middleton retraced 
 his steps to meet with another disappointment. 
 Inez had not been seen. Without communicating 
 his intention to any one, the bridegroom proceeded 
 with a palpitating heart to the little sequestered 
 arbor, where he had overheard his bride offering 
 hd those petitions for his happiness and conver- 
 sion. Here, too, he was disappointed ; and then 
 
80 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 all was afloat in tbe painful incertitude of doubt 
 and conjecture. 
 
 For many hours a secret distrust of the mo- 
 tives of his wife caused Middleton to proceed in 
 the search with delicacy and caution. But as 
 day dawned, without restoring her to the arms of 
 her father or her husband, reserve was thrown 
 aside, and her unaccountable absence was loudly 
 proclaimed. The inquiries after the lost Inez 
 were now direct and open ; but they proved equally 
 fruitless. No one had seen her or heard of her, 
 from the moment that she left the cottage of her 
 nurse. 
 
 Day succeeded day, and still no tidings reward- 
 ed the search that was immediately instituted, 
 until she was finally given over by most of her 
 relations and friends, as irretrievably lost. 
 
 An event of so extraordinary a character was 
 not likely to be soon forgotten. It excited specu- 
 lation, gave rise to an infinity of rumors, and not 
 a few inventions. The prevalent opinion among 
 such of those immigrants who were overrunning 
 the country, as had time in the multitude of their 
 employments to think of any foreign concerns, 
 was the simple and direct conclusion that the 
 absent bride was no more nor less than a felo de 
 se. Father Ignatius had many doubts and much 
 secret compunction of conscience ; but, like a 
 wise chief, he endeavored to turn the sad event to 
 some account in the impending warfare of faith. 
 Changing his battery, he whispered in the ears of 
 a few of his oldest parishioners that he had been 
 deceived in the state of Middleton’s mind, which 
 he was now compelled to believe was completely 
 stranded on the quicksands of heresy. He began 
 to show his relics again, and was even heard to 
 allude once more to the delicate and nearly-for- 
 gotten subject of modern miracles. In conse- 
 quence of these demonstrations on the part of the 
 venerable priest, it came to be whispered among 
 the faithful, and finally it was adopted as part of 
 the parish creed, that Inez had been translated 
 to heaven. 
 
 Don Augustin had all the feelings of a father, 
 but they were smothered in the lassitude of a 
 creole. Like his spiritual governor, he began to 
 think that they had been wrong in consigning 
 one so pure, so young, so lovely, and above all so 
 pious, to the arms of a heretic ; and he was fain 
 to believe that the calamity which had befallen 
 hi3 age was a judgment on his presumption and 
 want of adherence to established forms. It is true 
 that, as the whispers of the congregation came to 
 his ears, he found present consolation in their 
 belief; but then Nature was too powerful, and 
 had too strong a hold of the old man’s heart, not 
 
 to give rise to the rebellious thought that the 
 succession of his daughter to the heavenly inheri 
 tance was a little premature. 
 
 But Middleton, the lover, the husband, the 
 bridegroom — Middleton was nearly crushed by 
 the weight of the unexpected and terrible blow. 
 Educated himself under the dominion of a simple 
 and rational faith, in which nothing is attempted 
 to be concealed from the believers, he could have 
 no other apprehensions for the fate of Inez than 
 such as grew out of his knowledge of the super- 
 stitious opinions she entertained of his own 
 Church. It is needless to dwell on the mental 
 tortures that he endured, or all the various sur- 
 mises, hopes, and disappointments, that he was 
 fated to experience in the first few weeks of his 
 misery. A jealous distrust of the motives of 
 Inez, and a secret, lingering hope that he should 
 yet find her, had tempered his inquiries, without, 
 however, causing him to abandon them entirely. 
 But time was beginning to deprive him even of 
 the mortifying reflection that he was intentionally 
 though perhaps temporarily deserted, and he was 
 gradually yielding to the more painful conviction 
 that she was dead, when his hopes were suddenly 
 revived in a new and singular manner. 
 
 The young commander was slowly and sorrow- 
 fully returning from an evening parade of his 
 troops to his own quarters, which stood at some 
 little distance from the place of the encampment, 
 and on the same high bluff of land, when his vacant 
 eyes fell on the figure of a man, who by the regula- 
 tions of the place was not entitled to be there at 
 that forbidden hour. The stranger was meanly 
 dressed, with every appearance about his person 
 and countenance of squalid poverty and of the 
 most dissolute habits. Sorrow had softened the 
 military pride of Middleton, and, as he passed the 
 crouching form of the intruder, he said, in tones 
 of great mildness, or rather of kindness : 
 
 “You will be given a night in the guard- 
 house, friend, should the patrol find you here; 
 there is a dollar — go and get a better place to 
 sleep in, and something to eat.” 
 
 “I swallow all my food, captain, without 
 chewing,” returned the vagabond, with tbe low 
 exultation of an accomplished villain, as he 
 eagerly seized the silver. “ Make this Mexican 
 twenty, and I will sell you a secret.” 
 
 “ Go, go,” said the other, with a little of a 
 soldier’s severity returning to his manner. “ Go, 
 before I order the guard to seize you.” 
 
 “Well, go I will; but if I do go, captain, 1 
 shall take my knowledge with me ; and then you 
 may live a widower bewitched till the tattoo of 
 life is beat off.” 
 
THE KIDNAPPER AND niS SECRET. 
 
 81 
 
 “ What mean you, fellow ? ” exclaimed Middle- 
 ton, turning quickly toward the wretch, who was 
 already dragging his diseased limbs from the place. 
 
 “ I mean to have the value of this dollar in 
 Spanish brandy, and then come back and sell you 
 my secret for enough to buy a barrel.” 
 
 “ If you have any thing to say, speak now,” 
 continued Middleton, restraining with difficulty 
 the impatience that urged him to betray his feel- 
 ings. 
 
 “ I am a-dry, and I can never talk with ele- 
 gance when my throat is husky, captain. How 
 much will you give to know what I can tell you ? 
 Let it be something handsome — -such as one gen- 
 tleman can offer to another.” 
 
 “I believe it would be better justice to order 
 the drummer to pay you a visit, fellow. To what 
 does your boasted secret relate?” 
 
 “ Matrimony — a wife and no wife ; a pretty 
 face and a rich bride. Do I speak plain now, 
 captain ? ” 
 
 “ If you know any thing relating to my wife, 
 say it at once ; you need not fear for your re- 
 ward.” 
 
 “ Ay, captain, I have drove many a bargain 
 in my time, and sometimes I have been paid in 
 money, and sometimes I have been paid in prom- 
 ises ; now the last are what I call pinching food.” 
 
 “ Name your price.” 
 
 “ Twenty — no, damn it, it’s worth thirty dol- 
 lars, if it’s worth a cent ! ” 
 
 “ Here, then, is your money ; but remember, 
 if you tell me nothing worth knowing, I have a 
 force that can easily deprive you of it again, and 
 punish your insolence into the bargain.” 
 
 The fellow examined the bank-bills he received, 
 with a jealous eye, and then pocketed them, ap- 
 parently well satisfied of their being genuine. 
 
 “ I like a Northern note,” he said, very coolly ; 
 “they have a character to lose like myself. No 
 fear of me, captain ; I am a man of honor, and I 
 shall not tell you a word more nor a word less 
 than I know of my own knowledge to be true.” 
 
 “ Proceed then without further delay, or I 
 may repent, and order you to be deprived of all 
 your gains ; the silver as well as the notes.” 
 
 “Honor, if you die for it ! ” returned the mis- 
 creant, holding up a hand in affected horror at so 
 treacherous a threat. “ Well, captain, you must 
 know that gentlemen don’t all live by the same 
 calling; some keep what they’ve got, and some 
 get what they can.” 
 
 “ You have been a thief.” 
 
 “I scorn the word. I have been a humanity- 
 hunter. Do you know what that means? Ay, 
 it has many interpretations. Some people think 
 6 
 
 the woolly-heads are miserable, working on hot 
 plantations under a broiling sun — and all such sorts 
 of inconveniences. Well, captain, I have been, in 
 my time, a man who has been willing to give them 
 the pleasures of variety, at least, by changing the 
 scene for them. You understand me? ” 
 
 “You are, in plain language, a kidnapper.” 
 
 “ Have been, my worthy captain — have been ; 
 but just now a little reduced, like a merchant who 
 leaves off’ selling tobacco by the hogshead, to deal 
 in it by the yard. I have been a soldier, too, in 
 my day. What is said to be the great secret of 
 our trade, can you tell me that ? ” 
 
 “ I know not,” said Middleton, beginning to tire 
 of the fellow’s trifling— “courage ? ” 
 
 “ No, legs — legs to fight with, and legs to run 
 away with — and therein you see my two callings 
 agreed. My legs are none of the best just now, 
 and without legs a kidnapper would carry on a 
 losing trade ; but then there are men enough left, 
 better provided than I am.” 
 
 “Stolen ! ” groaned the horror-struck husband. 
 “ On her travels, as sure as you are standing 
 still ! ” 
 
 “ Villain, what reason have you for believing 
 a thing so shocking ? ” 
 
 “ Hands off — hands off — do you think my 
 tongue can do its work the better, for a little 
 squeezing of the throat ? Have patience, and you 
 shall know it all ; but if you treat me so ungen- 
 teelly again, I shall be obliged to call in the as- 
 sistance of the lawyers.” 
 
 “ Say on ; but if you utter a single word more 
 or less than the truth, expect instant vengeance ! ” 
 “ Are you fool enough to believe w hat such a 
 scoundrel as I am tells you, captain, unless it has 
 probability to back it ? I know you are not ; 
 therefore I will give my facts and my opinions, 
 and then leave you to chew on them, while I go 
 and drink of your generosity. I know a man who 
 is called Abiram White — I believe the knave took 
 that name to show his enmity to the race of 
 blacks ! But this gentleman is now, and has been 
 for years, to my certain knowledge, a regular trans- 
 lator of the human body from one State to anoth- 
 er. I have dealt with him in my time, and a 
 cheating dog he is ! No more honor in him than 
 meat in my stomach. I saw him here in this 
 very town, the day of your wedding. He was in 
 company with his wife’s brother, and pretended 
 to be a settler on the hunt for new land. A noble 
 set they were, to carry on business — seven sons, 
 each of them as tall as your sergeant with his cap 
 on. Well, the moment I heard that your wife 
 was lost, I saw at once that Abiram had laid hij 
 hands on her.” 
 
B 2 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 “ Do you know this — can this be true ? What 
 eason have you to fancy a thing so wild ? ” 
 
 “ Reason enough ; I know Abiram White. 
 Now, will you add a trifle just to keep my throat 
 from parching ? ” 
 
 “ Go, go ; you are stupefied with drink already, 
 miserable man, and know not what you say. Go ; 
 go, and beware the drummer ! ” 
 
 “ Experience is a good guide — the fellow 
 called after the retiring Middleton ; and then turn- 
 ing with a chuckling laugh, like one well satisfied 
 with himself, he made the best of his way toward 
 the shop of the sutler. 
 
 A hundred times in the course of that night 
 did Middleton fancy that the communication of 
 the miscreant was entitled to some attention, and 
 as often did he reject the idea as too wild and vi- 
 sionary for another thought. He was awakened ear- 
 ly on the following morning, after passing a restless 
 and nearly sleepless night, by his orderly, who came 
 to report that a man was found dead on the pa- 
 rade, at no great distance from his quarters. 
 Throwing on his clothes, he proceeded to the spot, 
 and beheld the individual with whom he had held 
 the preceding conference, in the precise situation 
 in which he had first been found. 
 
 The miserable wretch had fallen a victim to 
 his intemperance. This revolting fact was suffi- 
 ciently proclaimed by his obtruding eyeballs, his 
 bloated countenance, and the nearly insufferable 
 odors that were even then exhaling from his car- 
 cass. Disgusted with the odious spectacle, the 
 youth was turning from the sight, after ordering 
 the corpse to be removed, when the position of one 
 of the dead man’s hands struck him. On examina- 
 tion, he found the forefinger extended, as if in the 
 act of writing in the sand, with the following incom- 
 plete sentence, nearly illegible, but yet in a state to 
 be deciphered : “ Captain, it is true, as I am a gen- 
 tle — ” He had either died, or fallen into a sleep, 
 the forerunner of his death, before the latter word 
 was finished. 
 
 Concealing this fact from the others, Middle- 
 ton repeated his orders and departed. The per- 
 tinacity of the deceased, and all the circumstances 
 united, induced him to set on foot some secret in- 
 quiries. He found that a family answering the de- 
 scription which had been given him, had in fact 
 .passed the place the day of his nuptials. They 
 were traced along the margin of the Mississippi 
 for some distance, until they took boat and as- 
 cended the river to its confluence with the Mis- 
 souri. Here they had disappeared, like hundreds 
 of others, in pursuit of the hidden wealth of the 
 interior. 
 
 Furnished with these facts, Middleton detailed 
 
 a small guard of his mcst trusty men, took leave 
 of Don Augustin without declaring his hopes or 
 his fears, and having arrived at the indicated point 
 he pushed into the wilderness in pursuit. It was 
 not difficult to trace a train like that of Ishmael 
 until he was assured its object lay far beyond the 
 usual limits of the settlements. This circumstance 
 in itself quickened his suspicions and gave addi- 
 tional force to his hopes of final success. 
 
 After getting beyond the assistance of verbal 
 directions, the anxious husband had recourse to 
 the usual signs of a trail, in order to follow the 
 fugitives. This he also found a task of no diffi- 
 culty, until he reached the hard and unyielding 
 soil of the rolling prairies. Here, indeed, he 
 was completely at fault. He found himself, at 
 length, compelled to divide his followers, appoint- 
 ing a place of rendezvous at a distant day, and to 
 endeavor to find the lost trail by multiplying, as 
 much as possible, the number of his eyes. He 
 had been alone a week, when accident brought 
 him in contact with the trapper and the bee-hunt- 
 er. Fart of their interview has been related, and 
 the reader can readily imagine the explanations 
 that succeeded the tale he recounted, and which 
 led, as has already been seen, to the recovery of 
 his bride. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 “ These likelihoods confirm her flight from hence 
 Therefore, I pray you, stay not to discourse, 
 
 But mount you presently.” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 An hour had slid by in hasty and nearly inco- 
 herent questions and answers, before Middleton, 
 hanging over his recovered treasure with that sort 
 of jealous watchfulness with which a miser would 
 regard his hoards, closed the disjointed narrative 
 of his own proceedings by demanding : 
 
 “ And you, my Inez — in what manner were 
 you treated ? ” 
 
 u In every thing, but the great injustice they 
 did in separating me so forcibly from my friends, 
 as well, perhaps, as the circumstances of my cap- 
 tors would allow. I think the man who is cer- 
 tainly the master here, is but a new beginner in 
 wickedness. He quarrelled frightfully in my pres- 
 ence with the wretch who seized me, and then 
 they made an impious bargain, to which I was 
 compelled to acquiesce, and to which they bound 
 me as well as themselves, by oaths. Ah ! Middle- 
 ton, I fear the heretics are not so heedful of their 
 vows as we who are nurtured in the bosom »( the 
 true Church ! ” 
 
THE RECOVERY OF INEZ. 
 
 83 
 
 “ Believe it not ; these villains are of no reli- 
 gion ! Did they forswear themselves ? ” 
 
 “ No, not perjured ; but was it not awful to 
 call upon the good God to witness so sinful a 
 compact ? ” 
 
 “ And so we think, Inez, as truly as the most 
 virtuous cardinal of Rome. But how did they 
 observe their oath, and what was its purport ? ” 
 “They conditioned to leave me unmolested, 
 and free from their odious presence, provided I 
 would give a pledge to make no effort to escape ; 
 and that I would not even show myself until a 
 time that my masters saw fit to name.” 
 
 “ And that time ? ” demanded the impatient 
 Middleton, who so well knew the religious scruples 
 of his wife — “ that time ? ” 
 
 “ It is already passed. I was sworn by my 
 patron saint, and faithfully did I keep the vow, 
 until the man they call Ishmael forgot the terms 
 by offering violence. I then made my appear- 
 ance on the rock, for the time too was passed ; 
 though I even think Father Ignatius would have 
 absolved me from the vow, on account of the 
 treachery of my keepers.” 
 
 “ If he had not,” muttered the youth between 
 his compressed teeth, “I would have absolved 
 him forever from his spiritual care of your con- 
 science 1 ” 
 
 “ You, Middleton ! ” returned his wife, look- 
 ing up into his flushed face, while a bright flush 
 suffused her own sweet countenance ; “ you may 
 receive my vows, but surely you can have no power 
 to absolve me from their observance ! ” 
 
 “No, no, no. Inez, you are right. I know 
 but little of these conscientious subtilties, and I 
 am any thing but a priest : yet tell me, what has 
 induced these monsters to play this desperate 
 game — to trifle thus with my happiness ? ” 
 
 “ You know my ignorance of the world, and 
 how ill I am qualified to furnish reasons for the 
 conduct of beings so different from any I have 
 ever seen before. But does not love of money 
 drive men to acts even worse than this? I 
 believe they thought that an aged and wealthy 
 father could be tempted to pay them a rich ran- 
 som for his child; and, perhaps,” she added, 
 stealing an inquiring glance through her tears at 
 the attentive Middleton, “ they counted something 
 on the fresh affections of a bridegroom.” 
 
 “ They might have extracted the blood from 
 my heart, drop by drop ! ” 
 
 “ Yes,” resumed his young and timid wife, 
 instantly withdrawing the stolen look she bad 
 hazarded, and hurriedly pursuing the train of the 
 discourse, as if glad to make him forget the liberty 
 she had just taken, “ I have been told there are 
 
 men so base as to perjure themselves at the altar 
 in order to command the gold of ignorant and 
 confiding girls ; and, if love of money will lead to 
 such baseness, we may surely expect it will hurry 
 those who devote themselves to gain into acts of 
 lesser fraud.” 
 
 “ It must be so ; and now, Inez, though I am 
 here to guard you with my life, and we are in pos 
 session of this rock, our difficulties, perhaps ou 
 dangers, are not ended. You will summon all youi 
 courage to meet the trial, and prove yourself a 
 soldier’s wife, my Inez ? ” 
 
 “ I am ready to depart this instant. The let- 
 ter you sent by the physician had prepared me 
 to hope for the best, and I have every thing ar- 
 ranged for flight at the shortest warning.” 
 
 “ Let us, then, leave this place and join our 
 friends.” 
 
 “Friends!” interrupted Inez, glancing her 
 eyes around the tent in quest of the form of 
 Ellen. “ I, too, have a friend who must not be 
 forgotten, but who is pledged to pass the remain- 
 der of her life with us. She is gone ! ” 
 
 Middleton gently led her from the spot, as he 
 smilingly answered : 
 
 “She may have had, like myself, her own 
 private communications for some favored ear.” 
 
 The young man had not, however, done jus- 
 tice to the motives of Ellen W ade. The sensitive 
 and intelligent girl had readily perceived how lit- 
 tle her presence was necessary in the interview 
 that has just been related, and had retired with 
 that intuitive delicacy of feeling which seems to 
 belong more properly to her sex. She was now 
 to be seen seated on a point of the rock, with her 
 person so entirely enveloped in her dress as to 
 conceal her features. Here she had remained for 
 near an hour, no one approaching to address her, 
 and, as it appeared to her own quick and jealous 
 eyes, totally unobserved. In the latter particular, 
 however, even the vigilance of the quick-sighted 
 Ellen was deceived. 
 
 The first act of Paul Hover, on finding him- 
 self the master of Ishmael’s citadel, had been to 
 sound the note of victory, after the quaint and 
 ludicrous manner that is so often practised among 
 the borderers of the West. Flapping his sides 
 with his hands, as the conquering game-cock is 
 wont to do with his wings, he raised a loud and 
 laughable imitation of the exultation of this bird ; 
 a cry which might have proved a dangerous chal- 
 lenge had any one of the athletic sons of the squat- 
 ter been within hearing. 
 
 “ This has been a regular knock-down and 
 drag-out,” he cried, “ and nojbones broke ! — How 
 now, old trapper ! you have been one of your 
 
B4 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 training, platoon, rank-and-file soldiers in your 
 day, and have seen forts taken and batteries 
 stormed before this — am I right ? ” 
 
 w Ay, ay, that have I,” answered the o.d man, 
 who still maintained his post at the foot of the 
 rock, so little disturbed by what he had just wit- 
 nessed as to return the grin of Paul with a hearty 
 indulgence in his own silent and peculiar laughter ; 
 “ you have gone through the exploit like men ! ” 
 
 “ Now tell me, is it not in rule to call over the 
 names of the living, and to bury the dead after 
 every bloody battle ? ” 
 
 “ Some did and other some didn’t. When Sir 
 William pushed the German, Dieskau, through the 
 defiles at the foot of the Hori — ” 
 
 “ Your Sir William was a drone to Sir Paul, 
 and knew nothing of regularity. So here begins 
 the roll-call — by-the-by, old man, what between 
 bee-hunting and buffalo-humps, and certain other 
 matters, I have been too busy to ask your name ; 
 for I intend to begin with my rear-guard, well 
 knowing that my man in front is too busy to 
 answer.” 
 
 “ Lord, lad, I’ve been called in my time by as 
 many names as there are people among whom I’ve 
 dwelt. Now the Delawares named me for my 
 eyes, and I was called after the far-sighted hawk. 
 Then, ag’in, the settlers in the Otsego hills chris- 
 tened me anew from the fashion of my leggings ; 
 and various have been the names by which I have 
 gone through life ; but little will it matter when 
 the time shall come that all are to be mustered, 
 face to face, by what titles a mortal has played his 
 part I I humbly trust I shall be able to answer to 
 any of mine in a loud and manly voice.” 
 
 Paul paid little or no attention to this reply, 
 more than half of which was lost in the distance, 
 but, pursuing the humor of the moment, he called 
 out in a stentorian voice to the naturalist to an- 
 swer to his name. Dr. Battius had not thought 
 it necessary to push his success beyond the com- 
 fortable niche which accident had so opportunely 
 formed for his protection, and in which he now 
 reposed from his labors with a pleasing conscious- 
 ness of security, added to great exultation at the 
 possession of the botanical treasure already men- 
 tioned. 
 
 “Mount, mount, my worthy mole-catcher! 
 come and behold the prospect of skirting Ishmael ; 
 come and look Nature boldly in the face, and not 
 go sneaking any longer among the prairie-grass 
 and mullein-tops, like a gobbler nibbling for grass- 
 hoppers.” 
 
 The mouth of the light-hearted and reck 1 ess 
 i»e.e-bunter was instantly closed, and he was ren- 
 dered as mute as he had just been boisterous 
 
 and talkative, by the appearance of Ellen Wade, 
 When the melancholy maiden took her seat on 
 the point of the rock as mentioned, Paul affected 
 to employ himself in conducting a close inspection 
 of the household effects of the squatter. Ho 
 rummaged the drawers of Esther with no delicate 
 hands, scattered the rustic finery of her girls on 
 the ground without the least deference to its 
 quality or elegance, and tossed her pots and ket- 
 tles here and there as though they had been ves- 
 sels of wood instead of iron. All this industry 
 was, however, manifestly without an object. He 
 reserved nothing for himself, not even appearing 
 conscious of the nature of the articles which suf- 
 fered by his familiarity. When he had examined 
 the inside of every cabin, taken a fresh survey 
 of the spot where he had confined the children, 
 and where he had thoroughly secured them with 
 cords, and kicked one of the pails of the woman 
 like a foot-ball fifty feet into the air in sheer wan- 
 tonness, he returned to the edge of the rock, and, 
 thrusting both his hands through his wampum 
 belt, he began to whistle the “ Kentucky Hunters ” 
 as diligently as if he had been hired to supply his 
 auditors with music by the hour. In this manner 
 passed the remainder of the time until Middleton, 
 as has been related, led Inez forth from the tent, 
 and gave a new direction to the thoughts of the 
 whole party. He summoned Paul from his flour- 
 ish of music, tore the doctor from the study of 
 his plant, and, as acknowledged leader, gave the 
 necessary orders for immediate departure. 
 
 In the bustle and confusion that were likely 
 to succeed such a mandate, there was little oppor- 
 tunity to indulge in complaints or reflections. As 
 the adventurers had not come unprepared for victo- 
 ry, each individual employed himself in such offices 
 as were best adapted to his strength and situa- 
 tion. The trapper had already made himself 
 master of the patient Asinus, who was quietly 
 feeding at no great distance from the rock, and 
 he was now busy in fitting his back with the 
 complicated machinery that Dr. Battius saw fit 
 to term a saddle of his own invention. The nat- 
 uralist himself seized upon his portfolios, herbals, 
 and collection of insects, which he quickly trans- 
 ferred from the encampment of the squatter to 
 certain pockets in the aforesaid ingenious inven- 
 tion, and which the trapper as uniformly cast 
 away the moment his back was turned. Paul 
 showed his dexterity in removing such light arti- 
 cles as Inez and Ellen had prepared for their 
 flight to the foot of the citadel ; while Middleton, 
 after mingling threats and promises in order to 
 induce the children to remain quietly in their 
 bondage, assisted the females to descend. As 
 
ABANDONING THE FORTRESS. 
 
 85 
 
 time began to press upon them, and there was 
 great danger of Ishmael’s returning, these several 
 movements were made with singular industry and 
 dispatch. 
 
 The trapper bestowed such articles as he con- 
 ceived were necessary to the comfort of the 
 weaker and more delicate members of the party, 
 in those pockets from which he had so uncere- 
 moniously expelled the treasures of the uncon- 
 scious naturalist, and then gave way for Middle- 
 ton to place Inez in one of those seats which he 
 had prepared on the back of the animal for her 
 and her companion. 
 
 “ Go, child,” the old man said, motioning to 
 Ellen to follow the example of the lady, and turn- 
 ing his head a little anxiously to examine the 
 waste behind him. “ It cannot be long afore the 
 owner of this place will be coming to look after 
 his household; and he is not a man to give up 
 his property, however obtained, without com- 
 plaint ! ” 
 
 “ It is true,” cried Middleton ; ^ we have wasted 
 moments that are precious, and have the utmost 
 need of industry.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, I thought it ; and would have said it, 
 captain ; but I remembered how your grand’ther 
 used to love to look upon the face of her he led 
 away for a wife, in the days of his youth and his 
 happiness. ’Tis natur’,’tis natur’, and ’tis wiser 
 to give way a little before its feelings, than to try 
 to stop a current that will have its course.” 
 
 Ellen advanced to the side of the beast, and 
 seizing Inez by the hand, she said, with heart-felt 
 warmth, after struggling to suppress an emotion 
 that nearly choked her : 
 
 “ God bless you, sweet lady ! I hope you will 
 forget and forgive the wrongs you have received 
 from my uncle — ” 
 
 The humbled and sorrowful girl could say no 
 more, her voice becoming entirely inaudible in an 
 ungovernable burst of grief. 
 
 “ How is this ? ” cried Middleton ; “ did you 
 not say, Inez, that this excellent young woman 
 was to accompany us, and to live with us for the 
 remainder of her life ; or, at least, until she found 
 Borne more agreeable residence for herself ? ” 
 
 “ I did ; and I still hope it. She has always 
 given me reason to believe that, after having 
 ehown so much commiseration and friendship in 
 my misery, she would not desert me, should hap- 
 pier times return.” 
 
 “ I cannot — I ought not,” continued Ellen, 
 getting the better of her momentary weakness. 
 M It has pleased God to cast my lot among these 
 people, and I ought not to quit them. It would 
 bo adding the appearance of treachery to what 
 
 will already seem bad enough, with one of hia 
 opinions. He has been kind to me, an orphan, 
 after his rough customs, and I cannot steal from 
 him at such a moment.” 
 
 “ She is just as much a relation of skirting 
 Ishmael as I am a bishop!” said Paul, with a 
 ioud hem, as if his throat wanted clearing. “ If 
 the old fellow has done the honest thing by her, 
 in giving her a morsel of venison now and then, 
 or a spoon around his hominy-dish, hasn’t she 
 payed him in teaching the young devils to read 
 their Bible, or in helping old Esther to put her 
 finery in shape and fashion ? Tell me that a drone 
 has a sting, and I’ll believe you as easily as I will 
 that this young woman is a debtor to any of the 
 tribe of Bush ! ” 
 
 “ It is but little matter who owes me or where 
 I am in debt. There are none to care for a girl 
 who is fatherless and motherless, and whose 
 nearest kin are the offcasts of all honest people. 
 No, no ; go, lady, and Heaven forever bless you ! 
 I am better here, in this desert, where there are 
 none to know my shame.” 
 
 “Now, old trapper,” retorted Paul, “ this is 
 what I call knowing which way the wind blows ! 
 You ar’ a man that has seen life, and you know 
 something of fashions ; I put it to your judgment 
 plainly, isn’t it in the nature of things for the 
 hive to swarm when the young get their growth, 
 and, if children will quit their parents, ought one 
 who is of no kith or kin — ” 
 
 “ Hist ! ” interrupted the man he addressed, 
 “ Hector is discontented. — Say it out plainly, pup ; 
 what is it, dog — what is it ? ” 
 
 The venerable hound had risen, and was 
 scenting the fresh breeze which continued to 
 sweep heavily over the prairie. At the words of 
 his master he growled and contracted the muscles 
 of his lips, as if half disposed to threaten with 
 the remnants of his teeth. The younger dog, 
 who was resting after the chase of the morning, 
 also made some signs that his nose detected a 
 taint in the air, and then the two resumed theii 
 slumbers, as if they had done enough. 
 
 The trapper seized the bridle of the ass, and 
 cried, urging the beast onward : 
 
 “ There is no time for words. The squatter 
 and his brood are within a mile or two of this 
 blessed spot ! ” 
 
 Middleton lost all recollection of Ellen in the 
 danger which now so imminently beset his recov- 
 ered bride ; nor is it necessary to add that Dr. 
 Battius did not wait for a second admonition to 
 commence his retreat. 
 
 Following the route indicated by the old man, 
 they turned the rock in a body, and pursued their 
 
86 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 way as fast as possible across the prairie under 
 the favor of the cover it afforded. 
 
 Paul Hover, however, remained in his tracks, 
 sullenly leaning on his rifle. Near a minute had 
 elapsed before he was observed by Ellen, who had 
 buried her face in her hands to conceal her fan- 
 cied desolation from herself. 
 
 “ Why do you not fly? ” the weeping girl ex- 
 claimed, the instant she perceived she was not 
 alone. 
 
 “ Pm not used to it.” 
 
 “ My uncle will soon be here ! you have noth- 
 ing to hope from his pity.” 
 
 Nor from that of his niece, I reckon. Let 
 him come ; he can only knock me on the head ! ” 
 “ Paul, Paul, if you love me, fly • ” 
 
 “ Alone ! — if I do, may I be — •” 
 
 “ If you value your life, fly 1 ” 
 
 “ I value it not compared to you.” 
 
 “ Paul 1 ” 
 
 “Ellen!” 
 
 She extended both her hands, and burst into 
 another and a still more violent flood of tears. 
 The bee-hunter put one of his sturdy arms around 
 her waist, and in another moment he was urging 
 her over the plain, in rapid pursuit of their flying 
 friends. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 “Approach the chamber, and destroy your sight 
 With a new Gorgon. — Do not bid me speak; 
 
 See, and then speak yourselves.” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The little run which supplied the family of 
 the squatter with water, and nourished the trees 
 and bushes that grew near the base of the rocky 
 eminence, took its rise at no great distance from 
 the latter, in a small thicket of cottonwood and 
 vine3. Hither, then, the trapper directed the 
 flight, as to the place affording the only available 
 cover in so pressing an emergency. It will be re- 
 membered that the sagacity of the old man, 
 which, from long practice in similar scenes, 
 amounted nearly to an instinct in all cases of 
 sudden danger, had first induced him to take this 
 course, as it placed the hill between them and the 
 approaching party. Favored by this circumstance, 
 he succeeded in reaching the bushes in sufficient 
 time ; and Paul Hover had just hurried the breath- 
 less Ellen into the tangled brush as Ishmael 
 gained the summit of the rock in the manner 
 already described, where he stood like a man 
 momentarily bereft of sense, gazing at the con- 
 fusion which had been created among his chattels, 
 
 or at his gagged and bound children, who had 
 been safely bestowed, by the forethought of the 
 bee-hunter, under the cover of a bark roof, in a 
 sort of irregular pile. A long rifle would have 
 thrown a bullet from the height on which the 
 squatter now stood into the very cover where the 
 fugitives who had wrought all this mischief were 
 clustered. 
 
 The trapper was the first to speak, as the man 
 on whose intelligence and experience they all de- 
 pended for counsel, after running his eye over the 
 different individuals who gathered about him, in 
 order to see that none were missing. 
 
 "Ah ! natur’ is natur’, and has done its 
 work ! ” he said, nodding to the exulting Paul, 
 with a smile of approbation. “ I thought it 
 would be hard for those who had so often met in 
 fair and foul, by starlight and under the clouded 
 moon, to part at last in anger. Now is there 
 little time to lose in talk, and every thing to gain 
 by industry ! It cannot be long afore some of 
 yonder brood will be nosing along the ’arth for 
 our trail, and should they find it, as find it they 
 surely will, and should they push us to stand on 
 our courage, the dispute must be settled with the 
 rifle ; which may He in heaven forbid ! — Captain, 
 can you lead us to the place where any of your 
 warriors lie ? For the stout sons of the squatter 
 will make a manly brush of it, or I am but little 
 of a judge in warlike dispositions ! ” 
 
 “ The place of rendezvous is many leagues 
 from this, on the banks of La Platte.” 
 
 “ It is bad — it is bad. If fighting is to be 
 done, it is always wise to enter on it on equal 
 terms. But what has one so near his time to do 
 with ill blood and hot blood at his heart ! Listen 
 to what a gray head and some experience have 
 to offer, and then if any among you can point out 
 a wiser fashion for a retreat, we can just follow 
 his design and forget that I have spoken. This 
 thicket stretches for near a mile as it may be 
 slanting from the rock, and leads toward the sun- 
 set instead of the settlements.” 
 
 " Enough, enough,” cried Middleton, too im- 
 patient to wait until the deliberate and perhaps 
 loquacious old man could end his minute explana- 
 tion. " Time is too precious for words. Let us 
 fly.” 
 
 The trapper made a gesture of compliance, 
 and turning in his tracks he led Asinus across 
 the trembling earth of the swale, and quickly 
 emerged on the bard ground on the side opposite 
 to the encampment of the squatter. 
 
 " If old Ishmael gets a squint at that highway 
 through the brush,” cried Paul, casting, as he 
 left the place, a hasty glance at the broad trail 
 
SEEKING A SAFE ROUTE. 
 
 87 
 
 the party had made through the thicket, “ he’ll 
 need no finger-board to tell him which way his 
 road lies. But let him follow 1 I know the vaga- 
 bond would gladly cross his breed with a little 
 honest blood, but if any son of his ever gets to 
 be the husband of—-” 
 
 '‘Hush, Paul, hush 1” said the terrified young 
 woman, who leaned on his arm for support; 
 “your voice might be heard.” 
 
 The bee-hunter was silent, though he did not 
 cease to cast ominous looks behind him as they 
 flew along the edge of the run, which sufficiently 
 betrayed the belligerent condition of his mind. 
 As each one was busy for himself, but a few 
 minutes elapsed before the party rose a swell of 
 the prairie, and, descending without a moment’s 
 delay on the opposite side, they were at once re- 
 moved from every danger of being seen by the 
 sons of Ishmael, unless the pursuers should hap- 
 pen to fall upon their trail. The old man now 
 profited by the formation of the land to take an- 
 other direction with a view to elude pursuit, as a 
 vessel changes her course in fogs and darkness 
 to escape from the vigilance of her enemies. 
 
 Two hours passed in the utmost diligence en- 
 abled them to make a half circuit around the 
 rock, and to reach a point that was exactly oppo- 
 site to the original direction of their flight. To 
 most of the fugitives their situation was as en- 
 tirely unknown as is that of a ship in the middle 
 of the ocean to the uninstructed voyager : but 
 the old man proceeded at every turn, and through 
 every bottom, with a decision that inspired his 
 followers with confidence, as it spoke favorably 
 of his own knowledge of the localities. His 
 hound, stopping now and then to catch the ex- 
 pression of his eye, had preceded the trapper 
 throughout the whole distance with as much cer- 
 tainty as though a previous and intelligible com- 
 munion between them had established the route 
 by which they were to proceed. But, at the ex- 
 piration of the time just named, the dog suddenly 
 came to a stand, and then, seating himself on the 
 prairie, he snuffed the air a moment, and began a 
 low and piteous whining. 
 
 “Ay — pup — ay. I know the spot — I know 
 the spot, and reason there is to remember it well ! ” 
 said the old man, stopping by the side of his un- 
 easy associate, until those who followed had time 
 to come up. “ Now, yonder is a thicket before 
 us,” he continued, pointing forward, “ where we 
 may lie till tall trees grow on these naked fields 
 afore any of the squatter’s kin will venture to 
 molest us.” 
 
 “This is the spot where the body of the 
 dead man lay ! ” cried Middleton, examining the 
 
 place with an eye that revolted at the recollec- 
 tion.” 
 
 “ The very same. But whether his friends 
 have put him in the bosom of the ground or not, 
 remains to be seen. The hound knows the scent, 
 but seems to be a little at a loss, too. — It is there- 
 fore necessary that you advance, friend bee-hunt- 
 er, to examine, while I tarry to keep the dogs 
 from complaining in too loud a voice.” 
 
 “ I ! ” exclaimed Paul, thrusting his hand into 
 his shaggy locks, like one who thought it prudent 
 to hesitate before he undertook so formidable an 
 adventure. “ Now, hark’ee, old trapper ; I’ve 
 stood in my thinnest cottons in the midst of many 
 a swarm that has lost its queen-bee, without wink- 
 ing, and let me tell you the man who can do that 
 is not likely to fear any living son of skirting Ish- 
 mael ; but as to meddling with dead men’s bones, 
 why it is neither my calling nor my inclination ; 
 so, after thanking you for the favor of your choice, 
 as they say when they make a man corporal in 
 Kentucky, I decline serving.” 
 
 The old man turned a disappointed look 
 toward Middleton, who was too much occupied 
 in solacing Inez to observe his embarrassment, 
 which was, however, suddenly relieved from a 
 quarter, whence, from previous circumstances, 
 there was little reason to expect such demonstra- 
 tion of fortitude. 
 
 Dr. Battius had rendered himself a little re- 
 markable throughout the whole of the preced- 
 ing retreat, for the exceeding diligence with which 
 he had labored to effect that desirable object, 
 So very conspicuous was his zeal, indeed, as to 
 have entirely got the better of all his ordinary 
 predilections. The worthy naturalist belonged 
 to that species of discoverers who make the worst 
 possible travelling-companions to a man who has 
 reason to be in a hurry. No stone, no bush, no 
 plant, is ever suffered to escape the examination 
 of their vigilant eyes, and thunder may mutter, 
 and rain fall, without disturbing the abstraction 
 of their reveries. Not so, however, with the dis- 
 ciple of Linnasus, during the momentous period 
 that it remained a mooted point at the tribunal 
 of his better judgment, whether the stout descend- 
 ants of the squatter were not likely to dispute 
 his right to traverse the prairie in freedom. The 
 highest-blooded and best-trained hound, with bis 
 game in view, could not have run with an eye 
 more riveted than that with which the doctor had 
 pursued his curvilinear course. It was perhaps 
 lucky for his fortitude that he was ignorant of 
 the artifice of the trapper in leading them around 
 the citadel of Ishmael, and that he had imbibed 
 the soothing impression that every inch of prairi« 
 
88 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 he traversed was just so much added to the dis- 
 tance between his own person and the detested 
 rock. Notwithstanding the momentary shock he 
 certainly experienced when he discovered this 
 error, he now boldly volunteered to enter the 
 thicket in which there was some reason to believe 
 the body of the murdered Asa still lay. Perhaps 
 the naturalist was urged to show his spirit on this 
 occasion, by some secret consciousness that his 
 excessive industry in the retreat might be liable 
 to misconstruction ; and it is certain that what- 
 ever might be his peculiar notions of danger from 
 the quick, his habits and his knowledge had 
 placed him far above the apprehension of suffer- 
 ing harm from any communication with the 
 dead. 
 
 “ If there is any service to be performed 
 which requires the perfect command of the ner- 
 vous system,” said the man of science, with a look 
 that was slightly blustering, “you have only to 
 give a direction to his intellectual faculties, and 
 here stands one on whose physical, powers you 
 may depend.” 
 
 “ The man is given to speak in parables,” mut- 
 tered the single-minded trapper ; “ but I conclude 
 there is always some meaning hidden in his words, 
 though it is as hard to find sense in his speeches 
 as to discover three eagles on the same tree. — It 
 will be wise, friend, to make a cover, lest the 
 sons of the squatter should be out skirting on 
 our trail, and, as you well know, there is some 
 reason to fear yonder thicket contains a sight 
 that may horrify a woman’s mind. Are you man 
 enough to look death in the face ; or shall I run 
 the risk of the hounds raising an outcry, and go 
 in myself? You see the pup is willing to run in 
 with an open mouth already.” 
 
 “ Am I man enough ! Venerable trapper, our 
 communications have a recent origin, or thy in- 
 terrogatory might have a tendency to embroil us 
 in angry disputation. Am I man enough ! I 
 claim to be of the class , mammalia ; order , pri- 
 mates ; genus, homo ! Such are my physical at- 
 tributes ; of my moral properties let posterity 
 speak ! it becomes me to be mute.” 
 
 “ Physic may do for such as relish it ; to my 
 taste and judgment it is neither palatable nor 
 healthy ; but morals never did harm to any living 
 mortal, be it that he was a sojourner in the forest, 
 or a dweller in the midst of glazed windows and 
 Brooking chimneys. It is only a few hard words 
 that divide us, friend ; for I am of opinion, that 
 with use and freedom we should come to under- 
 stand one another, and mainly settle down into 
 the same judgments of mankind, and of the ways 
 if the world. — Quiet, Hector, quiet ; what ruffles 
 
 your temper, pup ; is it not used to the scent of 
 human blood ? ” 
 
 The doctor bestowed a gracious but commiser- 
 ating smile on the philosopher of Nature, as he 
 retrograded a step or two from the place whither 
 he had been impelled by his excess of spirit, in 
 order to reply with less expenditure of breath, and 
 with a greater freedom of air and attitude. 
 
 “ A homo is certainly a homo,” he said, stretch- 
 ing forth an arm in an argumentative manner; 
 “ so far as the animal functions extend, there are 
 the connecting links of harmony, order, conform- 
 ity, and design, between the whole genus ; but 
 there the resemblance ends. Man may be de- 
 graded to the very margin of the line which sep- 
 arates him from the brute, by ignorance ; or he 
 may be elevated to a communion with the great 
 Master-spirit of all, by knowledge ; nay, I know 
 not, if time and opportunity were given him, but 
 he might become the master of all learning, and 
 consequently equal to the'great moving principle.” 
 
 The old man, who stood leaning on his rifle 
 in a thoughtful attitude, shook his head as he 
 answered with a native steadiness that entirely 
 eclipsed the imposing air which his antagonist 
 had seen fit to assume : 
 
 “ This is neither more nor less than mortal 
 wickedness ! Here have I been a dweller on the 
 earth for fourscore-and-six changes of the sea- 
 sons, and all that time have I looked at the grow- 
 ing and the dying trees, and yet do I not know the 
 reasons why the bud starts under the summer 
 sun, or the leaf falls when it is pinched by the 
 frosts. Your l’arning, though it is man’s boast, 
 is folly in the eyes of Him who sits in the clouds, 
 and looks down in sorrow at the pride aud van- 
 ity of his creatur’s. Many is the hour that 
 I’ve passed lying in the shades of the woods, or 
 stretched upon the hills of these open fields, look- 
 ing up into the blue skies, where I could fancy 
 the Great One had taken his stand, and was sol- 
 emnizing on the waywardness of man and brute 
 below, as I myself had often looked at the ants 
 tumbling over each other in their eagerness, 
 though in a way and a fashion more suited to His 
 mightiness and power. Knowledge ! It is his 
 plaything. Say, you who think it so easy to 
 climb into the judgment-seat above, can you tell 
 me any thing of the beginning and the end ? Nay, 
 you’re a dealer in ailings and cures : what is life, 
 and what is death ? Why does the eagle live so 
 long, and why is the time of the butterfly so 
 short ? Tell me a simpler thing why is this 
 hound so uneasy, while you who have passed 
 your days in looking into books can see no reason 
 to be disturbed ? ” 
 
THE DOCTOR’S DISCOVERY. 
 
 SW 
 
 The doctor, who had been a little astounded 
 by the dignity and energy of the old man, drew 
 a long breath, like a sullen wrestler who is just 
 released from the throttling grasp of his antago- 
 nist, and seized on the opportunity of the pause 
 to reply — 
 
 “ It is his instinct.” 
 
 “ And what is the gift of instinct ? ” 
 
 “ An inferior gradation of reason. A sort of 
 mysterious combination of thought and matter.” 
 
 “ And what is that which you call thought? ” 
 “ Venerable Venator, this is a method of rea- 
 soning which sets at naught the uses of definitions, 
 and such as I do assure you is not at all tolerated 
 in the schools.” 
 
 “ Then is there more cunning in your schools 
 than I had thought, for it is a certain method of 
 showing them their vanity,” returned the trapper, 
 suddenly abandoning a discussion from which the 
 naturalist was just beginning to anticipate great 
 delight, by turning to hi£ dog, whose restlessness 
 he attempted to appease by playing with his ears. 
 “ This is foolish, Hector ; more like an untrained 
 pup than a sensible hound ; one who has got his 
 education by hard experience, and not by nosing 
 over the trails of other dogs, as a boy in the settle- 
 ments follows on the track of his masters, be it 
 right or be it wrong. Well, friend, you who can do 
 so much, are you equal to looking into the thicket ; 
 or must I go in myself ? ” 
 
 The doctor again assumed his air of resolution, 
 and without further parlance proceeded to do as 
 desired. The dogs were so far restrained by the 
 remonstrances of the old man as to confine their 
 noise to low but often-repeated winnings. When 
 they saw the naturalist advance, the pup, how- 
 ever, broke through all restraint and made a swift 
 circuit around his person, scenting the earth as 
 he proceeded, and, returning to his companion, he 
 howled aloud. 
 
 “ The squatter and his brood have left a strong 
 scent on the earth,” said the old man, watching 
 as he spoke for some signal from his learned pio- 
 neer to follow ; “ I hope yonder school-bred man 
 knows enough to remember the errand on which 
 I have sent him.” 
 
 Dr. Battius had already disappeared in the 
 bushes, and the trapper was beginning to betray 
 additional evidences of impatience when the per- 
 son of the former was seen retiring from the 
 thicket backward, with his face fastened on the 
 place he had just left, as if his look was bound 
 in the thraldom of some charm. 
 
 “ Here is something skeary, by the wildness 
 of the creatur’s countenance ! ” exclaimed the 
 old man, relinquishing his hold of Hector, and 
 58 
 
 moving stoutly to the side of the totally uncon- 
 scious naturalist. “ How i3 it, friend ; have you 
 found a new leaf in your book of wisdom ? ” 
 
 “ It is a basilisk ! ” muttered the doctor, 
 whose altered visage betrayed the utter confusion 
 which beset his faculties. “An animal of the 
 order , serpens. I had thought its attributes were 
 fabulous, but mighty Nature is equal to all that 
 man can imagine ! ” 
 
 “What is’t? what is’t? The snakes of the 
 prairies are harmless, unless it be now and then 
 an angered rattler, and he always gives you notice 
 with his tail afore he works his mischief with his 
 fangs. Lord, Lord, what a humbling thing is 
 fear ! Here is one who in common delivers words 
 too big for a humble mouth to hold, so much be- 
 side himself that his voice is as shrill as the whis- 
 tle of the whippoorwill ! Courage ! — what is it, 
 man ? — what is it ? ” 
 
 “ A prodigy ! a lusus natures / a monster that 
 Nature has delighted to form in order to exhibit 
 her power! Never before have I witnessed such 
 an utter confusion in her laws, or a specimen that 
 so completely bids defiance to the distinctions of 
 class and genera. Let me record its appearance,” 
 fumbling for his tablets with hands that trem- 
 bled too much to perform their office, “while 
 time and opportunity are allowed — eyes, enthrall- 
 ing ; color , various, complex, and profound — ” 
 
 “ One would think the man was crazed with 
 his enthralling looks and piebald colors ! ” inter- 
 rupted the discontented trapper, who began to 
 grow a little uneasy that his party was all this 
 time neglecting to seek the protection of some 
 cover. “ If there is a reptile in the brush, 
 show me the creatur’, and should it refuse to 
 depart peaceably, why there must be a quarrel for 
 the possession of the place.” 
 
 “ There ! ” said the doctor, pointing into a 
 dense mass of the thicket, to a spot within fifty 
 feet of that where they both stood. The trapper 
 turned his look with perfect composure in the 
 required direction, but, the instant his practised 
 glance met the object which had so utterly upset 
 the philosophy of the naturalist, he gave a start 
 himself, threw his rifle rapidly forward, and as 
 instantly* recovered it, as if a second flash of 
 thought convinced him he was wrong. Neither 
 the instinctive movement nor the sudden recol- 
 lection was without a sufficient object. At the 
 very margin of the thicket and in absolute con- 
 tact with the earth, lay an animate ball that 
 might easily, by the singularity and fierceness of 
 its aspect, have justified the disturbed condition 
 of the naturalist’s mind. It were difficult to de- 
 scribe the shape or colors of this extraordinary 
 
THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 do 
 
 substance, except to say, in general terms, that 
 it was nearly spherical, and exhibited all the hues 
 of the rainbow, intermingled without reference to 
 harmony, and without any very ostensible design. 
 The predominant hues were a black and bright 
 vermilion. With these, however, the several tints 
 of white, yellow, and crimson, were strangely and 
 wildly blended. Had this been all, it would have 
 been difficult to have pronounced that the object 
 was possessed of life, for it lay motionless as any 
 stone ; but a pair of dark, glaring, and moving 
 eyeballs, which watched with jealousy the small- 
 est movements of the trapper and his companion, 
 sufficiently established the important fact of its 
 possessing vitality. 
 
 “Your reptile is a scouter, or I’m no judge 
 of Indian paints and Indian deviltries ! ” muttered 
 the old man, dropping the butt of his weapon to 
 the ground, and gazing with a steady eye at the 
 frightful object, as he leaned on its barrel, in an 
 attitude of great composure. “ He wants to face 
 us out of sight and reason, and make us think the 
 head of a red-skin is a stone covered with the 
 autumn leaf ; or he has some other devilish arti- 
 fice in his mind ! ” 
 
 “ Is the animal human ? ” demanded the doc- 
 tor, “ of the genus homo ? I had fancied it a 
 nondescript.” 
 
 “ It’s as human, and as mortal too, as a warrior 
 of these prairies is ever known to be. I have seen 
 the time when a red-skin would have shown a 
 foolish daring to peep out of his ambushment in 
 that fashion on a hunter I could name, but who 
 is too old now, and too near his time, to be any 
 thing better than a miserable trapper. It will be 
 well to speak to the imp, and to let him know he 
 deals with men whose beards are grown. — Come 
 forth from your cover, friend,” he continued, in 
 the language of the extensive tribes of the Dah- 
 cotahs ; “ there is room on the prairie for another 
 warrior.” 
 
 The eyes appeared to glare more fiercely than 
 before ; but the mass which, according to the 
 trapper’s opinion, was neither more nor less than 
 a human head, shorn, as usual among the warriors 
 of the West, of its hair, still continued without 
 motion or any other sign of life. 
 
 “ It is a mistake ! ” exclaimed the doctor. 
 '* The animal is not even of the class mammalia, 
 much less a man.” 
 
 ‘.‘So much for your knowledge!” returned 
 the trapper, laughing with great exultation. “ So 
 much for the Taming of one who has looked into 
 so many books, that his eyes are not able to tell 
 a moose from a wild-cat ! Now, my Hector, here, 
 
 dog of education after his fashion, and, though 
 
 the meanest primer in the settlements would puz- 
 zle his information, you could not cheat the hound 
 in a matter like this. As you think the object no 
 man, you shall see his whole formation, and then 
 let an ignorant old trapper, who never willingly 
 passed a day within reach of a spelling-book in 
 his life, know by what name to call it. Mind, I 
 mean no violence ; but just to start the devil from 
 his ambushment.” 
 
 The trapper very deliberately examined the 
 priming of his rifle, taking care to make as great 
 a parade as possible of his hostile intentions, in 
 going through the necessary evolutions with the 
 weapon. When he thought the stranger began 
 to apprehend some danger, he very deliberately 
 presented the piece, and called aloud : 
 
 “Now, friend, I am all for peace, or all for 
 war, as you may say. No ! well it is no man, as 
 the wiser one here says, and there can be no harm 
 in just firing into a bunch of leaves.” 
 
 The muzzle of the rrfie fell as he concluded, 
 and the weapon was gradually settling into a 
 steady, and what would easily have proved a fatal 
 aim, when a tall Indian sprang from beneath that 
 bed of leaves and brush, which he had collected 
 about his person at the approach of the party, and 
 stood upright, uttering the exclamation — 
 
 “ Wagh ! ” 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 “ My visor is Philemon’s roof; within the house is Jove.” 
 
 Shakespeaee. 
 
 The trapper, who had meditated no violence, 
 dropped his rifle again, and, laughing at the suc- 
 cess of his experiment, with great seeming self- 
 complacency, he drew the astounded gaze of the 
 naturalist from the person of the savage to him- 
 self, by saying : 
 
 “ The imps will lie for hours, like sleeping al- 
 ligators, brooding their deviltries in dreams and 
 other craftiness, until such a time as they see some 
 real danger is at hand, and then they look to 
 themselves the same as other mortals. But this is 
 a scouter in his war-paint ! There should be more 
 of his tribe at no great distance. Let us draw the 
 truth out of him ; for an unlucky war-party may 
 prove more dangerous to us than a visit ^x>m the 
 whole family of the squatter.” 
 
 “ It is truly a desperate and a dangerous sp«* 
 cies ! ” said the doctor, relieving his amazemenl 
 by a breath that seemed to exhaust his lungs of 
 air ; “ a violent race, and one that it is difficult t« 
 define or class, within the usual boundaries of 
 
A YOUN PAWNEE WARRIOR. 
 
 91 
 
 leflnitions. Speak to him, therefore ; but let thy 
 words be strong in amity.” 
 
 The old man cast a keen eye on every side of 
 him, to ascertain the important particular wheth- 
 er the stranger was supported by any associates, 
 and then making the usual signs of peace, by ex- 
 hibiting the palm of his naked hand, he boldly 
 advanced. In the mean time, the Indian betrayed 
 no evidence of uneasiness. He suffered the trap- 
 per to draw nigh, maintaining by his own mien 
 and attitude a striking air of dignity and fear- 
 lessness. Perhaps the wary warrior also knew 
 that, owing to the difference in their weapons, he 
 should be placed more on an equality, by being 
 brought nearer to the strangers. 
 
 As a description of this individual may furnish 
 some idea of the personal appearance of a whole 
 race, it may be well to detain the narrative, in 
 order to present it to the reader, in our hasty and 
 imperfect manner. Would the truant eyes of 
 Allston or Greenough turn, but for a time, from 
 their gaze at the models of antiquity, to contem- 
 plate this wronged and humbled people, little 
 would be left for such inferior artists as ourselves 
 to delineate. 
 
 The Indian in question was in every particu- 
 lar a warrior of fine stature and admirable propor- 
 tions. As he cast aside his mask, composed of 
 such party-colored leaves as he had hurriedly col- 
 lected, his countenance appeared in all the grav- 
 ity, the dignity, and, it may be added, in the ter- 
 ror of his profession. The outlines of his linea- 
 ments were strikingly noble, and nearly approach- 
 ing to Roman, though the secondary features of 
 his face were slightly marked with the well-known 
 traces of his Asiatic origin. The peculiar tint of 
 the skin, which in itself is so well designed to aid 
 the effect of a martial expression, had received an 
 additional aspect of wild ferocity from the colors 
 of the war-paint. But, as if he disdained the usual 
 artifices of his people, he bore none of those 
 strange and horrid devices with which the chil- 
 dren of the forest are accustomed, like the more 
 civilized heroes of the mustache, to back their 
 reputation for courage, contenting himself with a 
 broad and deep shadowing of black, that served 
 as a sufficient and an admirable foil to the bright- 
 er gleamings of his native swarthiness. His head 
 was, as usual, shaved to the crown, where a large 
 and gallant scalp-lock seemed to challenge the 
 grasp of his enemies. The ornaments that were 
 ordinarily pendent from the cartilages of his ears 
 had been removed, on account of his present pur- 
 suit. His body, notwithstanding the lateness of 
 the season, was nearly naked, and the portion 
 which was clad bore a vestment no warmer than 
 
 a light robe of the finest dressed deer-skin, beau- 
 tifully stained with a rude design of some daring 
 exploit, and which was carelessly worn, as if more 
 in pride than from any unmanly regard to comfort. 
 His leggings were of bright scarlet cloth, the only 
 evidence about his person that he had held com- 
 munion with the traders of the pale-faces. But 
 as if to furnish some offset to this solitary submis- 
 sion to a womanish vanity, they were fearfully 
 fringed, from the gartered knee to the bottom of 
 the moccasin, with the hair of human scalps. He 
 leaned lightly with one hand on a short hickory 
 bow, while the other rather touched than sought 
 support from the long, delicate handle of an ash- 
 en lance. A quiver made of the cougar-skin, from 
 which the tail of the animal depended, as a char- 
 acteristic ornament, was slung at his back ; and 
 a shield of hides, quaintly emblazoned with anoth- 
 er of his warlike deeds, was suspended from his 
 neck by a thong of sinews. 
 
 As the trapper approached, this warrior main- 
 tained his calm upright attitude, discovering nei- 
 ther an eagerness to ascertain the character of 
 those who advanced upon him, nor the smallest 
 wish to avoid a scrutiny in his own person. An 
 eye that was darker and more shining than that of 
 the stag, was incessantly glancing, however, from 
 one to another of the stranger party, seemingly 
 never knowing rest for an instant. 
 
 “ Is my brother far from his village ? ” de- 
 manded the old man, in the Pawnee language, 
 after examining the paint and those other little 
 signs by which a practised eye knows the tribe 
 of the warrior he encounters in the American des- 
 erts, with the same readiness, and by the same 
 sort of mysterious observation, as that by which 
 the seaman knows the distant sail. 
 
 “ It is farther to the towns of the Big-knives, n 
 was the laconic reply. 
 
 “ Why is a Pawnee-Loup so far from the fork 
 of his own river, withoht a hbrse to journey on, 
 and in a spot empty as this ? ” 
 
 “ Can the women and children of a pale-face 
 live without the meat of the bison ? There was 
 hunger in my lodge.” 
 
 “ My brother is very young to be already the 
 master of a lodge,” returned the trapper, looking 
 steadily into the unmoved countenance of the 
 youthful warrior ; “but I dare say he is brave, 
 and that many a chief has offered him his daugh- 
 ters for wives. But he has been mistaken,” point- 
 ing to the arrow, which was dangling from the 
 hand that held the bow, “ in bringing a loo&e and 
 barbed arrow-head to kill the buffalo. Do the 
 Pawnees wish the wounds they give their game 
 to rankle ? ” 
 
02 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 “It is good to be ready for the Sioux. 
 Though not in sight, a bush may hide him.” 
 
 “ The man is a living proof of the truth of 
 his words,” muttered the trapper in English, 
 “and a close-jointed and gallant-looking lad he 
 is ; but far too young for a chief of any impor- 
 tance. It is wise, however, to speak him ur 
 for a single arm thrown into either party. we 
 come to blows with the squatter and his brood, 
 may turn the day. — You see my children are 
 weary,” he continued in the dialect of the prai- 
 ries, pointing, as he spoke, to the rest of the 
 party, who by this time were also approaching. 
 “We wish to camp and eat. Does my brother 
 claim this spot ? ” 
 
 “ The runners from the people on the big 
 river tell us that your nation have traded with 
 the tawny-faces who live beyond the salt-lake, 
 and that the prairies are now the hunting-grounds 
 of the Big-knives ! ” 
 
 “ It is true, as I hear also from the hunters 
 and trappers on La Platte. Though it is with 
 the Frenchers, and not with the men who claim 
 to own the Mexicos, that my people have bar- 
 gained.” 
 
 “ And warriors are going up the Long-river to 
 see that they have not been cheated in what they 
 have bought ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, that is partly true, too, I fear ; and it 
 will not be long before an accursed band of 
 choppers and loggers will be following on their 
 heels, to humble the wilderness which lies so 
 broad and rich on the western banks of the Mis- 
 sissippi, and then the land will be a peopled desert, 
 from the shores of the main sea to the foot of 
 the Rocky Mountains ; filled with all the abomi- 
 nations and craft of man, and stripped of the com- 
 forts and loveliness it received from the hands of 
 the Lord ! ” 
 
 “ And where were the chiefs of the Pawnee- 
 Loups when this bargain was made ? ” suddenly 
 demanded the youthful warrior, a look of startling 
 fierceness gleaming, at tbe same instant, athwart 
 his dark visage. “ Is a nation to be sold like the 
 skin of a beaver ? ” 
 
 “ Right enough — right enough, and where 
 were truth and honesty also ? But might is right, 
 according to the fashions of the ’arth ; and what 
 the strong choose to do, the weak must call jus- 
 tice. If the law of the Wahcondah was as much 
 hearkened to, Pawnee, as the laws of the Long- 
 knives, your right to the prairies would be as 
 good as that of the greatest chief in the settle- 
 ments to the house which covers his head.” 
 
 “ The skin of the traveller is white,” said the 
 young native, laying a finger impressively on the 
 
 hard and wrinkled hand of the trapper. “ Does 
 his heart say one thing and liis tongue another ? ” 
 
 “ The Wahcondah of a white man has ears, 
 and he shuts them to a lie. Look at my head ; 
 it is like a frosted pine, and must soon be laid in 
 the ground. Why then should I wish to meet 
 the Great Spirit face to face, while his counte- 
 nance is dark upon me.” 
 
 The Pawnee gracefully threw his shield over 
 one shoulder, and, placing a hand on his chest, 
 he bent his head, in deference to the gray locks 
 exhibited by the trapper ; after which his eye 
 became more steady, and his countenance less 
 fierce. Still he maintained every appearance of 
 a distrust and watchfulness that were rather tem- 
 pered and subdued than forgotten. When this 
 equivocal species of amity was established be- 
 tween the warrior of the prairies and the expe- 
 rienced old trapper, the latter proceeded to give 
 his directions to Paul concerning the arrange- 
 ments of the contemplated halt. While Inez and 
 Ellen were dismounting, and Middleton and the 
 bee-hunter were attending to their comforts, the 
 discourse was continued, sometimes in the lan- 
 guage of the natives, but often, as Paul and the 
 doctor mingled their opinions with the two princi- 
 pal speakers, in the English tongue. There was a 
 keen and subtle trial of skill between the Pawnee 
 and the trapper, in which each endeavored to dis- 
 cover the objects of the other, without betraying 
 his own interest in the investigation. As might 
 be expected, when the struggle was between ad- 
 versaries so equal, the result of the encounter an- 
 swered the expectations of neither. The latter 
 had put all the interrogatories his ingenuity and 
 practice could suggest concerning the state of the 
 tribe of the Loups, their crops, their store of pro- 
 visions for the ensuing winter, and their relations 
 with their different warlike neighbors, without ex- 
 torting any answer which in the slightest degree 
 elucidated the cause of his finding a solitary 
 warrior so far from his people. On the other 
 hand, while the questions of the Indian were far 
 more dignified and delicate, they were equally in- 
 genious. He commented on the state of the 
 trade in peltries, spoke of the good or ill success 
 of many white hunters, whom he had either en- 
 countered, or heard named, and even alluded to the 
 steady march which the nation of his great 
 father, as he cautiously termed the government 
 of the States, was making toward the hunting- 
 grounds of his tribe. It was apparent, however, 
 by the singular mixture of interest, contempt, 
 and indignation, that were occasionally gleaming 
 through the reserved manner of this warrior, that 
 he knew the strange people, who were thus trc» 
 
INEZ AND THE INDIAN. 
 
 93 
 
 passing on his native rights, much more by report 
 than by any actual intercourse. This personal 
 ignorance of the whites was as much betrayed by 
 the manner in which he regarded the females, as 
 by the brief but energetic expressions which occa- 
 sionally escaped him. 
 
 While speaking to the trapper he suffered his 
 wandering glances to stray toward the intellect- 
 ual and nearly infantile beauty of Inez, as one 
 might be supposed to gaze upon the loveliness of 
 an ethereal being. It was very evident that he 
 now saw, for the first time, one of those females, 
 of whom the fathers of his tribe so often spoke, 
 and who were considered of such rare excellence 
 as to equal all that savage ingenuity could ima- 
 gine in the way of loveliness. His observation of 
 Ellen was less marked, but, notwithstanding the 
 warlike and chastened expression of his eye, 
 there was much of the homage which man is 
 made to pay to woman, even in the more cursory 
 look he sometimes turned on her maturer and 
 perhaps more animated beauty. This admiration, 
 however, was so tempered by his habits, and so 
 smothered in the pride of a warrior, as com- 
 pletely to elude every eye but that of the trapper, 
 who was too well skilled in Indian customs, and 
 was too well instructed in the importance of 
 rightly conceiving the character of the stranger, 
 to let the smallest trait, or the most trifling of his 
 movements, escape him. In the mean time, the 
 unconscious Ellen herself moved about the feeble 
 and less resolute Inez, with her accustomed assi- 
 duity and tenderness, exhibiting in her frank 
 features those changing emotions of joy and 
 regret which occasionally beset her, as her active 
 mind dwelt on the decided step she had just taken, 
 with the contending doubts and hopes, and pos- 
 sibly with some of the mental vacillation, that 
 was natural to her situation and sex. 
 
 Not so Paul ; conceiving himself to have ob- 
 tained the two things dearest to his heart, the pos- 
 session of Ellen and a triumph over the sons of 
 Ishmael, he now enacted his part in the business 
 of the moment with as much coolness as though 
 he was already leading his willing bride, from 
 solemnizing their nuptials before a border ma- 
 gistrate, to the security of his own dwelling. 
 He had hovered around the moving family, 
 during the tedious period of their weary march, 
 concealing himself by day, and seeking interviews 
 with his betrothed as opportunities offered, in the 
 manner already described, until fortune and his 
 own intrepidity had united to render him success- 
 ful, at the very moment when he was beginning to 
 despair, and he now cared neither for distance, 
 nor violence, nor hardships. To his sanguine 
 
 fancy and determined resolution all the rest waa 
 easily to be achieved. Such were his feelings, and 
 such in truth they seemed to be. With his cap 
 cast on one side, and whistling a low air, he 
 thrashed among the bushes, in order to make a 
 place suitable for the females to repose on, while, 
 from time to time, he cast an approving glance at 
 the agile form of Ellen, as she tripped past him, 
 engaged in her own share of the duty. 
 
 “ And so the Wolf-tribe of the Pawnees have 
 buried the hatchet with their neighbors the Kon- 
 zas ? ” said the trapper, pursuing a discourse 
 which he had scarcely permitted to flag, though 
 it had been occasionally interrupted by the differ- 
 ent directions with which he occasionally saw 
 fit to interrupt it. (The reader will remem- 
 ber that, while he spoke to the native war- 
 rior in his own tongue, he necessarily addressed 
 his white companions in English.) “ The Loups 
 and the light-faced red-skins are again friends. — 
 Doctor, that is a tribe of which I’ll engage you’ve 
 often read, and of which many a round lie has 
 been whispered in the ears of the ignorant peo- 
 ple who live in the settlements. There was a 
 story of a nation of Welshers, that lived here away 
 in the prairies, and how they came into the land 
 afore the uneasy-minded man who first let in the 
 Christians to rob the heathens of their inheri- 
 tance, had ever dreamt that the sun set on a coun- 
 try as big as that it rose from. And how they 
 knew the white ways and spoke with white 
 tongues, and a thousand other follies and idle 
 conceits.” 
 
 “Have I not heard of them?” exclaimed the 
 naturalist, dropping a piece of jerked bison’s 
 meat, which he was rather roughly discussing, at 
 the moment. “ I should be greatly ignorant not 
 to have often dwelt with delight on so beautiful 
 a theory, and one which so triumphantly estab- 
 lishes two positions, which I have often main- 
 tained are unanswerable, even without such living 
 testimony in their favor — viz., that this continent 
 can claim a more remote affinity with civilization 
 than the time of Columbus, and that color is the 
 fruit of climate and condition, and not a regulation 
 of Nature. — Propound the latter question to this 
 Indian gentleman, venerable hunter ; he is of a 
 reddish tint himself, and his opinion may be said 
 to make us masters of the two sides of the dis- 
 puted point.” 
 
 “ Do you think a Pawnee is a reader of books, 
 and a believer of printed lies, like the idlers in the 
 towns ? ” retorted the old man, laughing. “ But 
 it may be as well to humor the likings of the 
 man, which, after all, it is quite possible, are nei- 
 i ther more nor less than his natural gift, and there- 
 
94 
 
 THE PllAIBIE. 
 
 fore to be followed, although they may be pitied. 
 What does my brother think ? all whom he sees 
 here have pale skins, but the Pawnee warriors 
 are red ; does he believe that man changes with 
 the season, and that the son is not like his 
 father ? ” 
 
 The young warrior regarded his interrogator 
 for a moment with a steady and deliberating eye ; 
 then, raising his finger upward, he answered with 
 dignity : 
 
 “The Wahcondah pours the rain from his 
 clouds ; when he speaks, he shakes the hills ; and 
 the fire, which scorches the trees, is the anger of 
 his eye ; but he fashioned his children with care 
 and thought. What he has thus made, never 
 alters ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, ’tis in the reason of natur’ that it should 
 be so, doctor,” continued the trapper, when he 
 had interpreted this answer to the disappointed 
 naturalist. “ The Pawnees are a wise and a great 
 people, and I’ll engage they abound in many a 
 wholesome and honest tradition. The hunters 
 and trappers that I sometimes see, speak of a 
 great warrior of your race.” 
 
 “My tribe are not women. A brave is no 
 stranger in my village.” 
 
 “ Ay ; but he . they speak of most is a chief 
 far beyond the renown of common warriors, and 
 one that might have done credit to that once- 
 niighty but now-fallen people, the Delawares of 
 the hills.” 
 
 “ Such a warrior should have a name ? ” 
 
 “They call him Hard-heart, from the stout- 
 ness of his resolution ; and well is he named, if 
 all I have heard of his deeds be true.” 
 
 The stranger cast a glance which seemed to 
 read the guileless soul of the old man, as he de- 
 manded — 
 
 “Has the pale-face seen the partisan of my 
 people ? ” 
 
 “ Never. It is not with me now as it used to 
 be some forty years ago, when warfare and blood- 
 shed were my calling and my gifts I ” 
 
 A loud shout from the reckless Paul interrupt- 
 ed his speech, and at the next moment the bee- 
 hunter appeared, leading an Indian war-horse from 
 the side of the thicket opposite to the one occu- 
 pied by the party. 
 
 “ Here is a beast for a red-skin to straddle !” 
 he cried, as he made the animal go through some 
 of its wild paces. “ There’s not a brigadier in all 
 Kentucky that can call himself master of so sleek 
 and well-jointed a nag ! A Spanish saddle, too, 
 like a grandee of the Mexicos ! and look at the 
 mane and tail braided and plaited down with 
 little silver balls, as if it were Ellen herself get- 
 
 ting her shining hair ready for a dance or a husk 
 ing frolic ! Isn’t this a real trotter, old trapper, 
 to eat out of the manger of a savage ? ” 
 
 “ Softly, lad, softly. The Loups are famous 
 for their horses, and it is often that you see a 
 warrior on the prairies far better mounted than a 
 Congressman in the settlements. But this, in- 
 deed, is a beast that none but a powerful chief 
 should ride! The saddle, as you rightly think, 
 has been sat upon in its day by a great Spanish 
 captain, who has lost it and his life together in 
 some of the battles which this people often fight 
 against the southern provinces. I warrant me, 
 I warrant me the youngster is the son of a great 
 chief; maybe of the mighty Hard-heart him- 
 self!” 
 
 During this rude interruption to the discourse, 
 tne young Pawnee manifested neither impatience 
 nor displeasure ; but when he thought his beast 
 had been the subject of sufficient comment, he 
 very coolly, and with an air of one accustomed to 
 have his will respected, relieved Paul of the 
 bridle, and, throwing the reins on the neck of the 
 animal, he sprang upon his back with the activity 
 of a professor of the equestrian art. Nothing 
 could be finer or firmer than the seat of the sav- 
 age. The highly-wrought and cumbrous saddle 
 was evidently more for show than use. Indeed, 
 it impeded rather than aided the action of limbs 
 which disdained to seek assistance or admit of 
 restraint from so womanish inventions as stirrups. 
 The horse, which immediately began to prance, 
 was, like its rider, wild and untutored in all its 
 motions, but while there was so little of art there 
 was all the freedom and grace of Nature in the 
 movements of both. The animal was probably 
 indebted to the blood of Araby for its excellence, 
 through a long pedigree that embraced the steed 
 of Mexico, the Spanish barb, and the Moorish 
 charger. The rider, in obtaining his steed from 
 the provinces of Central America, had also ob- 
 tained that spirit and grace in controlling him 
 which unite to form the most intrepid and per- 
 haps the most skilful horseman in the world. 
 
 Notwithstanding this sudden occupation of his 
 animal, the Pawnee discovered no hasty wish to 
 depart. More at his ease, and possibly more in- 
 dependent, now that he found himself secure of the 
 means of retreat, he rode back and forth, eying 
 the different individuals of the party with far 
 greater freedom than before. But, at each ex- 
 tremity of his ride, just as the sagacious trapper 
 expected to see him profit by his advantage and 
 fly, he would turn his horse and pass over the 
 same ground, sometimes with the rapidity of the 
 flying deer, and at others more slowly and with 
 
THE PAWNEE’S DEPARTURE. 
 
 95 
 
 greater dignity of mien and attitude. Anxious 
 to ascertain such facts as might have an influence 
 on his future movements, the old man determined 
 to invite him to a renewal of their conference. 
 He therefore made a gesture expressive at the 
 same time of his wish to resume the interrupted 
 discourse, and of his own pacific intentions. The 
 quick eye of the stranger was not slow to note 
 the action, but it was not until a sufficient time 
 had passed to allow him to debate the prudence 
 of the measure in his own mind, that he seemed 
 willing to trust himself again so near a party 
 that was so much superior to himself in physical 
 power, and consequently one that was able at any 
 instant to command his life, or control his per- 
 sonal liberty. When he did approach nigh 
 enough to converse with facility, it was with a 
 singular mixture of haughtiness and of distrust. 
 
 “It is far to the village of the Loups,” he 
 said, stretching his arm in a direction contrary to 
 that in which the trapper well knew the tribe 
 dwelt, “and the road is crooked. What has the 
 Big-knife to say ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, crooked enough ! ” muttered the old man 
 in English, “ if you are to set out on your jour- 
 ney by that path, but not half so winding as the 
 cunning of an Indian’s mind. — Say, my brother, 
 do the chiefs of the Pawnees love to see strange 
 faces in their lodges ? ” 
 
 The young warrior bent his body gracefully, 
 though but slightly, over the saddle-bow, as he 
 replied : 
 
 “ When have my people forgotten to give food 
 to the stranger ? ” 
 
 “ If I lead my daughters to the doors of the 
 Loups, w ill the women take them by the hand ; 
 and will the warriors smoke with my young men ? ” 
 “ The country of the pale-faces is behind them. 
 Why do they journey so far toward the setting 
 sun ? Have they lost the path, or are these the 
 women of the white warriors that I hear are wad- 
 ing up the river of the troubled waters ? ” 
 
 “ Neither. They who wade the Missouri are 
 the warriors of my great father, who has sent 
 them on his message ; but we are peace-runners. 
 The white men and the red are neighbors, and 
 they wish to be friends. — Do not the Omahaws 
 visit the Loups when the tomahawk is buried in 
 the path between the two nations ? ” 
 
 “ The Omahaws are welcome.” 
 
 “ And the Yanktons, and the burnt- wood Te- 
 tons, who live in the elbow of the river ‘ with 
 muddy water ; ’ do they not come into the lodges 
 of the Loups and smoke ? ” 
 
 “ The Tetons are liars ! ” exclaimed the other. 
 “ They dare not shut their eyes in the night. 
 
 No ; they sleep in the sun. See,” he added, 
 pointing with fieroe triumph to the frightful orna- 
 ments of his leggings, “ their scalps are so plenty 
 that the Pawnees tread on them ! Go ; let a 
 Sioux live in banks of snow ; the plains and buf- 
 faloes are for men ! ” 
 
 “ Ah ! the secret is out,” said the trapper to 
 Middleton, who was an attentive because a deep- 
 ly-interested observer of what was passing. 
 “ This good-looking young Indian is scouting on 
 the track of the Siouxes — you may see it by his 
 arrow-heads and his paint ; ay, and by his eye, 
 too ; for red-skin lets his natur’ follow the busi- 
 ness he is on, be it for peace or be it for war. — 
 Quiet, Hector, quiet ! Have you never scented a 
 Pawnee afore, pup ? — keep down, dog — keep down. 
 — My brother is right. The Siouxes are thieves. 
 Men of all colors and nations say it of them, and 
 say it truly. But the people from the rising sun 
 are not Siouxes, and they wish to visit the lodges 
 of the Loups.” 
 
 “The head of my brother is white,” returned 
 the Pawnee, throwing one of those glances at the 
 trapper which were so remarkably expressive of 
 distrust, intelligence, and pride ; and then point- 
 ing, as he continued, toward the eastern horizon, 
 “ and his eyes have looked on many things — can 
 he tell me the name of what he sees yonder — is 
 it a buffalo ? ” 
 
 “ It looks more like a cloud peeping above the 
 skirt of the plain with the sunshine lighting its 
 edges. It is the smoke of the heavens.” 
 
 “It is a hill of the earth, and on its top are 
 the lodges of pale-faces ! Let the women of my 
 brother wash their feet among the people of their 
 own color.” 
 
 “ The eyes of a Pawnee are good if he can see 
 a white-skin so far.” 
 
 The Indian turned slowly toward the speaker, 
 and after a pause of a moment he sternly de- 
 manded : 
 
 “ Can my brother hunt ? ” 
 
 “ Alas ! I claim to be no better than a miser- 
 able trapper ! ” 
 
 “ When the plain is covered with the buffaloes, 
 can he see them ? ” 
 
 “ No doubt, no doubt — it is far easier to see 
 than to take a scampering bull.” 
 
 “ And when the birds are flying from the cold, 
 and the clouds are black with their feathers, can 
 he see them too ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, ay, it is not hard to find a duck or a 
 goose when millions are darkening the heavens.” 
 
 “ When the snow falls and covers the lodges 
 of the Long-knives, can the stranger see flakes in 
 the air ? ” 
 
THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 06 
 
 “ My eyes are none of the best now,” returned 
 the old man, a little resentfully, “ but the time 
 has been when I had a name for my sight ! ” 
 
 “ The red-skins find the Big-knives as easily 
 as the strangers sees the buffalo, or the travelling 
 birds, or the falling snow. Your warriors think 
 the Master of life has made the whole earth white. 
 They are mistaken. They are pale, and it is 
 their own faces that they see. Go ! a Pawnee is 
 not Wind, that he need look long for your peo- 
 ple ! ” 
 
 The warrior suddenly paused and bent his 
 face aside, like one who listened with all his facul- 
 ties absorbed in the act. Then, turning the head 
 of his horse, he rode to the nearest angle of the 
 thicket, and looked intently across the bleak 
 prairie, in a direction opposite to the side on 
 which the party stood. Returning slowly from 
 this unaccountable, and, to his observers, star- 
 tling procedure, he riveted his eyes on Inez, and 
 paced back and forth several times with the air 
 of one who maintained a warm struggle on some 
 difficult point in the recesses of his own thoughts. 
 He had drawn the reins of his impatient steed, and 
 was seemingly about to speak, when his head 
 again sank on his chest, and he resumed his for- 
 mer attitude of attention. Galloping like a deer 
 to the place of his former observations, he rode 
 for a moment swiftly in short and rapid circles, as 
 if still uncertain of his course, and then darted 
 away like a bird that had been fluttering around 
 its nest before it takes a distant flight. After 
 scouring the plain for a minute, he was lost to the 
 eye behind a swell of the land. 
 
 The hounds, who had also manifested great 
 uneasiness for some time, followed him for a little 
 distance, and then terminated their chase by seat- 
 ing themselves on the ground and raising their 
 usual low, whining, and warning howls. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 “ How if he will not stand ? ” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The several movements related in the close 
 of the preceding chapter had passed in so short a 
 space of time, that the old man, while he neg- 
 lected not to note the smallest incident, had no 
 opportunity of expressing his opinion concerning 
 the stranger’s motives. After the Pawnee had 
 disappeared, however, he shook his head and 
 muttered, while he walked slowly to the angle of 
 the thicket that the Indian had just quitted : 
 
 “ There are both scents and sounds in the air, 
 
 though my miserable senses are not good enough 
 to hear the one or to catch the taint of tho 
 other.” 
 
 “ There is nothing to be seen,” cried Middle- 
 ton, who kept close at his side. “ My eyes and 
 my ears are good, and yet I can assure you that 
 I neither hear nor see any thing.” 
 
 “ Your eyes are good ! and you are not deaf! ” 
 returned the other, with a slight air of contempt ; 
 “ no, lad, no ; they may be good to see across a 
 church, or to hear a town-bell, but afore you had 
 passed a year in these prairies you would find 
 yourself taking a turkey for a buffalo, or con- 
 ceiting fifty times that the roar of a buffalo-bull 
 was the thunder of the Lord ! There is a decep- 
 tion of Natur’ in these naked plains in which the 
 air throws up the images like water, and then it 
 is hard to tell the prairies from a sea. But yon- 
 der is a sign that a hunter never fails to know ! ” 
 
 The trapper pointed to a flight of vultures that 
 were sailing over the plain at no great distance, and 
 apparently in the direction in which the Pawnee 
 had riveted his eyes. At first, Middleton could 
 not distinguish the small, dark objects that were 
 dotting the dusky clouds ; but, as they came swift, 
 ly onward, first their forms and then their heavy, 
 waving wings became distinctly visible. 
 
 “ Listen,” said the trapper, when he had suc- 
 ceeded in making Middleton see the moving col- 
 umn of birds. ‘‘Now you hear the buffaloes, or 
 bisons, as your knowing doctor sees fit to call 
 them, though buffaloes is their name among all 
 the hunters of these regions. And I conclude that 
 a hunter is a better judge of a beast and of its 
 name,” he added, winking to the young soldier, 
 “ than any man who has turned over the leaves of 
 a book instead of travelling over the face of the 
 ’arth, in order to find out the natur’s of its inhab- 
 itants.” 
 
 “ Of their habits, I will grant you,” cried the 
 naturalist, who rarely missed an opportunity to 
 agitate any disputed point in his favorite studies. 
 “ That is, provided always deference is had to the 
 proper use of. definitions, and that they are con- 
 templated with scientific eyes.” 
 
 “ Eyes of a mole ! as if any man’s eyes were 
 not as good for names as the eyes of any other 
 creatur’ ! Who named the works of His hand ? 
 can you tell me that, with your books and college 
 w'isdom ? Was it not the first man m the Garden, 
 and is it not a plain consequence that his children 
 inherit his gifts ? ”, 
 
 “ That is certainly the Mosaic account of the 
 event,” said the doctor ; “ though your reading is 
 by far too literal ! ” 
 
 “ My reading ! nay, if you suppose that I have 
 
A STRIKING SPECTACLE. 
 
 97 
 
 wasted ray time in schools, you do such a wrong 
 to my knowledge as one mortal should never lay 
 to the door of another without sufficient reason. 
 If I have ever craved the art of reading, it has 
 been that I might better know the sayings of the 
 book you name, for it is a book which speaks in 
 every line according to human feelings, and there- 
 in according to reason.” 
 
 “ And do you then believe,” said the doctor, a 
 little provoked by the dogmatism of his stubborn 
 adversary, and perhaps secretly too confident in 
 his own more liberal though scarcely as profitable 
 attainments — “ do you then believe that all these 
 beasts were literally collected in a garden to be 
 enrolled in the nomenclature of the first man ? ” 
 
 “ Why not ? I understand your meaning; for 
 it is not needful to live in towns to hear all the 
 devilish devices that the conceit of man can in- 
 vent to upset his own happiness. What does it 
 prove, except indeed it may be said to prove that 
 the garden He made was not after the miserable 
 fashions of our times, thereby directly giving the 
 lie to what the world calls its civilizing ? No, no ; 
 the garden of the Lord was the forest then, and 
 is the forest now, where the fruits do grow and 
 the birds do sing, according to his own wise or- 
 dering. — Now, lady, you may see the mystery of 
 the vultures ! There come the buffaloes them- 
 selves, and a noble herd it is ! I warrant me that 
 Pawnee has a troop of his people in some of the 
 hollows nigh by ; and, as he has gone scampering 
 after them, you are about to see a glorious chase. 
 It will serve to keep the squatter and his brood 
 under cover, and for ourselves there is little rea- 
 son to fear. A Pawnee is not apt to be a mali- 
 cious savage.” 
 
 Every eye was now drawn to the striking spec- 
 tacle that succeeded. Even the timid Inez hastened 
 to the side of Middleton to gaze at the sight, and 
 Paul summoned Ellen from her culinary labors to 
 become a witness of the lively scene. 
 
 Throughout the whole of those moving events 
 which it has been our duty to record, the prairies 
 had lain in the majesty of perfect solitude. The 
 heavens had been blackened with the passage of 
 the migratory birds, it is true ; but the dogs of 
 the party and the ass of the doctor, were the only 
 quadrupeds that enlivened the broad surface of 
 the waste beneath. There was now a sudden ex- 
 hibition of animal life which changed the scene as 
 it were by magic, to the very opposite extreme. 
 
 A few enormous bison -bulls were first ob- 
 served, scouring along the most distant roll of the 
 prairie, and then succeeded long files of single 
 beasts, which, in their turns, were followed by a 
 dark mass of bodies, until the dun-colored herb- 
 7 
 
 age of the plain was entirely lost in the deeper 
 hue of their shaggy coats. The herd, as the col* 
 umn spread and thickened, was like the endless 
 flocks of the smaller birds whose extended flanks 
 are so often seen to heave up out of the abyss of 
 the heavens, until they appear as countless as the 
 leaves in those forests over which they wing 
 their endless flight. Clouds of dust shot up in 
 little columns from the centre of the mass, as some 
 animal, more furious than the rest, ploughed the 
 plain with his horns, and, from time to time, a 
 deep hollow bellowing was borne along on the 
 wind, as if a thousand throats vented their plaints 
 in a discordant murmuring. 
 
 A long and musing silence reigned in the 
 party, as they gazed on this spectacle of wild and 
 peculiar grandeur. It was at length broken by 
 the trapper, who, having been long accustomed to 
 similar sights, felt less of its influence, or, rather, 
 felt it in a less thrilling and absorbing man- 
 ner, than those to whom the scene was more 
 novel. 
 
 “ There go ten thousand oxen in one drove, 
 without keeper or master, except Him who made 
 them, and gave them these open plains for their 
 pasture! Ay, it is here that man may see the 
 proofs of his wantonness and folly ! Can the 
 proudest governor in all the States go into his 
 fields and slaughter a nobler bullock than is here 
 offered to the meanest hand ; and when he has 
 gotten his sirloin or his steak, can he eat it with 
 as good a relish as he who has sweetened his food 
 with wholesome toil, and earned it according to 
 the law of Natur’, by honestly mastering that 
 which the Lord hath put before him ? ” 
 
 “ If the prairie platter is smoking with a buf- 
 falo’s hump, I answer, No,” interrupted the lux- 
 urious bee-hunter. 
 
 “ Ay, boy, you have tasted, and you feel the 
 genuine reasoning of the thing ! But the herd is 
 heading a little this-a-way, and it behooves us to 
 make ready for their visit. If we hide ourselves 
 altogether, the horned brutes will break through 
 the place and trample us beneath their feet, like 
 so many creeping worms ; so we will just put the 
 weak ones apart, and take pos't, as becomes men 
 and hunters, in the van.” 
 
 As there was but little time to make the ne- 
 cessary arrangements, the whole party set about 
 them in good earnest. Inez and Ellen were placed 
 in the edge of the thicket on the side farthest 
 from the approaching herd. Asinus was posted 
 in the centre, in consideration of his nerves ; and 
 then the old man, with his three male companions, 
 divided themselves in such a manner as they 
 I thought would enable them to turn the head of 
 
08 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 the rushing column, should it chance to approach 
 too nigh their position. By the vacillating move- 
 ments of some fifty or a hundred bulls that led 
 the advance, it remained questionable, for many 
 moments, what course they intended to pursue. 
 But a tremendous and painful roar, which came 
 from behind the cloud of dust that rose in the 
 centre of the herd, and which was horridly an- 
 swered by the screams of the carrion-birds that 
 were greedily sailing directly above the flying 
 drove, appeared to give a new impulse to their 
 flight, and at once to remove every symptom of 
 indecision. As if glad to seek the smallest signs 
 of the forest, the whole of the affrighted herd be- 
 came steady in its direction, rushing in a straight 
 line toward the little cover of bushes which has 
 already been so often named. 
 
 The appearance of danger was now, in reality, 
 of a character to try the stoutest nerves. The 
 flanks of the dark, moving mass, were advanced 
 in such a manner as to make a concave line of 
 the front, and every fierce eye, that was glaring 
 from the shaggy wilderness of hair in which the 
 entire heads of the males were enveloped, was 
 riveted »with mad anxiety on the thicket. It 
 seemed as if each beast strove to outstrip his 
 -neighbor, in gaining this desired cover ; and, as 
 thousands in the rear pressed blindly on those in 
 front, there was the appearance of an imminent 
 risk that the leaders of the herd would be precipi- 
 tated on the concealed party, in which case the de- 
 struction of every one of them was certain. Each 
 of our adventurers felt the danger of his situation 
 in a manner peculiar to his individual character 
 and circumstances. 
 
 Middleton wavered. At times he felt inclined 
 to rush through the bushes, and, seizing Inez, 
 attempt to fly. Then recollecting the impossi- 
 bility of outstripping the furious speed of an 
 alarmed bison, he felt for his arms, determined to 
 make head against the countless drove. The 
 faculties of Dr. Battius were quickly wrought up 
 to the very summit of mental delusion. The 
 dark forms of the herd lost their distinctness, and 
 then the naturalist began to fancy he beheld a 
 wild collection of all the creatures of the world, 
 rushing upon him in a body, as if to revenge the 
 various injuries which, in the course of a life of in- 
 defatigable labor in behalf of the natural sciences, 
 he had inflicted on their several genera. The 
 paralysis it occasioned in his system was like the 
 effect of the incubus. Equally unable to fly or 
 to advance, he stood riveted to the spot, until the 
 Infatuation became so complete, that the worthy 
 naturalist was beginning, by a desperate effort of 
 scientific resolution, even to class the different 
 
 | specimens. On the other hand, Paul shouted 
 and called on Ellen to come and assist him in 
 shouting, but his voice was lost in the bello wings 
 and trampling of the herd. Furious, and yet 
 strangely excited by the obstinacy of the brutes 
 and the wildness of the sight, and nearly madden- 
 ed by sympathy and a species of conscious appre- 
 hension, in which the claims of Nature were 
 singularly mingled with concern for his mistress, 
 he nearly split his throat in exhorting his aged 
 friend to interfere. 
 
 “ Come forth, old trapper,” he shouted, “ with 
 your prairie inventions ! or we shall be all smoth- 
 ered under a mountain of buffalo-humps ! ” 
 
 The old man, who had stood all this while 
 leaning on his rifle, and regarding the movements 
 of the herd with a steady eye, now deemed it 
 time to strike his blow. Levelling his piece at 
 the foremost bull, with an agility that would have 
 done credit to his youth* he fired. The animal 
 received the bullet on the matted hair between his 
 horns, and fell to his knees : but shaking his head 
 he instantly arose, the very shock seeming to in- 
 crease his exertions. There was now no longer 
 time to hesitate. Throwing down his rifle, the 
 trapper stretched forth his arms, and advanced 
 from the cover with naked hands, directly toward 
 the rushing column of the beasts. 
 
 The figure of a man, when sustained by the 
 firmness and steadiness that intellect can only im- 
 part, rarely fails of commanding respect from all 
 the inferior animals of the creation. The lead- 
 ing bulls recoiled, and for a single instant -there 
 was a sudden stop to their speed, a dense mass 
 of bodies rolling up in front, until hundreds were 
 seen floundering and tumbling on the plain. 
 Then came another of those hollow bellowings 
 from the rear, and set the herd again in motion. 
 The head of the column, however, divided ; the 
 immovable form of the trapper cutting it, as it 
 were, into two gliding streams of life. Middle- 
 ton and Paul instantly profited by his example, 
 and extended the feeble barrier by a similar ex- 
 hibition of their own persons. 
 
 For a few moments, the new impulse given to 
 the animals in front served to protect the thicket. 
 But, as the body of the herd pressed more and 
 more upon the open line of its defenders, and the 
 dust thickened, so as to obscure their persons, 
 there was, at each instant, a renewed danger of 
 the beasts breaking through. It became neces- 
 sary for the trapper and his companions to be- 
 come still more and more alert ; and they were 
 gradually yielding before the headlong multitude, 
 when a furious bull darted by Middleton so near 
 as to brush his person, and, at the next instant, 
 
TIIE SIOUX. 
 
 99 
 
 swept through the thicket with the velocity of 
 the wind. 
 
 “ Close, and die for the ground ! ” shouted the 
 old man, “ or a thousand of the devils will be at 
 his heels ! ” 
 
 All their efforts would have proved fruitless, 
 however, against the living torrent, had not Asi- 
 aus, whose domains had just been so rudely en- 
 tered, lifted his voice in the midst of the uproar. 
 The most sturdy and furious of the bulls trembled 
 at the alarming and unknown cry, and then each 
 individual brute was seen madly pressing from 
 that very thicket, which the moment before he 
 had endeavored to reach, with the eagerness with 
 which the murderer seeks the sanctuary. 
 
 As the stream divided, the place became clear ; 
 the two dark columns moving obliquely from the 
 copse, to unite again, at the distance of a mile, on 
 its opposite side. The instant the old man saw 
 the sudden effect which the voice of Asinus had 
 produced, he coolly commenced reloading his rifle, 
 indulging at the same time in a heart-felt fit of his 
 silent and peculiar merriment. 
 
 “ There they go, like dogs with so many half- 
 filled shot-pouches dangling at their tails, and no 
 fear of their breaking their order ; for what the 
 brutes in the rear didn’t hear with their own ears, 
 they’ll conceit they did ; besides, if they change 
 their minds, it may be no hard matter to get the 
 Jack to sing the rest of his tune ! ” 
 
 “ The ass has spoken, but Balaam is silent ! ” 
 cried the bee-hunter, catching his breath after a 
 repeated burst of noisy mirth, that might possibly 
 have added to the panic of the buffaloes by its 
 vociferation. “ The man is as completely dum- 
 foundered as if a swarm of young bees had set- 
 tled on the end of his tongue, and he not willing 
 to speak, for fear of their answer.” 
 
 “ How now, friend,” continued the trapper, 
 addressing the still motionless and entranced 
 naturalist — “how now, friend; are you, who 
 make your livelihood by booking the names and 
 natur’s of the beasts of the field and the fowls of 
 the air, frightened at a herd of scampering buf- 
 faloes ? Though, perhaps, you are ready to dis- 
 pute my right to call them by a word that is in 
 the mouth of every hunter and trader on the 
 frontier! ” 
 
 The old man was, however, mistaken in sup- 
 posing he could excite the benumbed faculties of 
 the doctor, by provoking a discussion. From 
 that time, henceforth, he was never known, except 
 on one occasion, to utter a word that indicated 
 either the species or the genus of the animal. 
 He obstinately refused the nutritious food of the 
 whole ox family ; and even to the present hour, 
 
 now that he is established in all the scientific dig- 
 nity and security of a savant in one of the mari- 
 time towns, he turns his back with a shudder on 
 those delicious and unrivalled viands, that are so 
 often seen at the suppers of the craft, and which 
 are unequalled by any thing that is served under 
 the same name, at the boasted chop-houses of 
 London, or art the most renowned of the Parisian 
 restaurants. In short, the distaste of the worthy 
 naturalist for beef was not unlike that which the 
 shepherd sometimes produces, by first muzzling 
 and fettering his delinquent dog, and then leaving 
 him as a stepping stone for the whole flock to use 
 in its transit over a wall, or through the opening 
 of a sheepfold ; a process which is said to pro- 
 duce in the culprit a species of surfeit, cm the 
 subject of mutton, forever after. By the time 
 Paul and the trapper saw fit to terminate the 
 fresh bursts of merriment which the continued 
 abstraction of their learned companion did noi 
 fail to excite, he commenced breathing again, a? 
 if the suspended action of his lungs had been re 
 newed by the application of a pair of artificia' 
 bellows, and was heard to make use of the ever- 
 afterward proscribed term, on that solitary occa 
 sion to which we have just alluded. 
 
 “ Boves Americani horridi ! ” exclaimed the 
 doctor, laying great stress on the latter word; 
 after which he continued mute, like one who pon- 
 dered on strange and unaccountable events. 
 
 “ Ay, horrid eyes enough, I w ill w illingly al- 
 low,” returned the trapper ; “ and altogether the 
 creatur’ has a frightful look, to one unused to 
 the sights and bustle of a natural life ; but then 
 the courage of the beast is in no way equal to its 
 countenance. Lord, man, if you should once get 
 fairly beset by a brood of grizzly bears, as hap- 
 pened to Hector and I, at the great falls of the 
 Miss — Ah, here comes the tail of the herd, and 
 yonder goes a pack of hungry wolves, ready to 
 pick up the sick, or such as get a disjointed neck 
 by a tumble. Ha ! there are mounted men on 
 their trail, or I’m no sinner ! — Here, lad ; you may 
 see them here-away, just where the dust is scat- 
 tering afore the wind. They are hovering around 
 a wounded buffalo, making an end of the surly 
 devil with their arrows ! ” 
 
 Middleton and Paul soon caught a glimpse of 
 the dark group that the quick eye of the old man 
 had so readily detected. Some fifteen or twenty 
 horsemen were, in truth, to be seen riding in 
 quick circuits, about a noble bull which stood at 
 bay, too grievously hurt to fly, and yet seeming 
 to disdain to fall, notwithstanding his hardy body 
 had already been the target for a hundred arrow r s. 
 A thrust from the lance of a powerful Indian, how- 
 
100 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 ever, completed his conquest, and the brute gave 
 up his obstinate hold of life with a roar that 
 passed bellowing over the place where our adven- 
 turers stood, and, reaching the ears of the af- 
 frighted herd, added a new impulse to their flight. 
 
 “ How well the Pawnee knew the philosophy 
 of a buffalo-hunt ! ” said the old man, after he had 
 stood regarding the animated scene for a few mo- 
 ments with evident satisfaction. “ You saw how 
 he went off like the wind before the drove. It 
 was in order that he might not taint the air, and 
 that he might turn the flank and join — Ha ! how 
 is this ! yonder red-skins are no Pawnees ! The 
 feathers in their heads are from the wings and 
 tails of owls. — Ah ! as I am but a miserable half- 
 sighted trapper, it is a band of the accursed 
 Siouxes ! To cover, lads, to cover ! A single cast 
 of an eye this-away would strip us of every rag 
 of clothes, as surely as the lightning scorches the 
 bush, and it might be that our very lives would 
 be far from safe.” 
 
 Middleton had already turned away from the 
 spectacle to seek that which pleased him better — 
 the sight of his young and beautiful bride. Paul 
 seized the doctor by the arm; and, as the trap- 
 per followed with the smallest possible delay, the 
 whole party was quickly collected within the cov- 
 er of the thicket. After a few short explanations 
 concerning the character of this new danger, the 
 old man, on whom the whole duty of directing 
 their movements was devolved in deference to his 
 great experience, continued his discourse as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 “ This is a region, as you must all know, where 
 a strong arm is far better than the right, and where 
 the white law is as little kuown as needed. There- 
 fore does every thing now depend on j udgment and 
 power. If,” he continued, laying his finger on his 
 cheek like one who considered deeply all sides of the 
 embarrassing situation in which he found himself 
 — “ if an invention could be framed which would 
 set these Siouxes and the brood of the squatter 
 by the ears, then might we come in, like the buz- 
 zards after a fight atween the beasts, and pick up 
 the gleanings of the ground — there are Pawnees 
 nigh us, too ! It is a certain matter, for yonder 
 lad is not so far from his village without an errand. 
 Here are therefore four parties within sound of a 
 cannon, not one of whom can trust the other. 
 All which makes movement a little difficult in a 
 district where covers are far from plenty. But 
 we are three well-armed, and I think I may see 
 three stout-hearted men — ” 
 
 “ Four,” interrupted Paul. 
 
 “ Anan,” said the old man, looking up simply 
 »t his companion. 
 
 “Four,” repeated the bee-hunter, pointing tc 
 the naturalist. 
 
 “ Every army has its hangers-on and idlers,” 
 rejoined the blunt border-man.— “ Friend, it will be 
 necessary to slaughter this ass.” 
 
 “ To slay Asinus ! Such a deed would be an 
 act of supererogatory cruelty.” 
 
 “ I know nothing of your words, which hide 
 their meaning in sound ; but that is cruel which 
 sacrifices a Christian to a brute. This is what I 
 call the reason of mercy. It would be just as 
 safe to blow a trumpet as to let the animal raise 
 his voice again, inasmuch as it would prove a 
 manifest challenge to the Siouxes.” 
 
 “ I will answer for the discretion of Asinus, 
 who seldom speaks without reason.” 
 
 “ They say a man can be known by the com- 
 pany he keeps,” retorted the old man, “ and why 
 not a brute ? I once made a forced march and 
 went through a great deal of jeopardy with a com- 
 panion who never opened his mouth but to sing ; 
 and trouble enough and* great concern of mind 
 did the fellow give me. It was in that very busi- 
 ness with your grand’ ther, captain. But then he 
 bad a human throat, and well did he know how to 
 use it, on occasion, though he didn’t always stop 
 to regard the time and seasons fit for such out- 
 cries. Ah’s me ! if I was now as I was then, it 
 wouldn’t be a band of thieving Siouxes that 
 should easily drive me from such a lodgment as 
 this ! But what signifies boasting when sight and 
 strength are both failing? The warrior that the 
 Delawares once saw fit to call after the hawk for 
 the goodness of his eyes, would now be better 
 termed the mole ! In my judgment, therefore, it 
 will be well to slay the brute.” 
 
 “ There’s argument and good logic in it,” said 
 Paul; “music is music, and it’s always noisy, 
 whether it comes from a fiddle or a jackass. 
 Therefore I agree with the old man, and say, kill 
 the beast.” 
 
 “Friends,” said the naturalist, looking with a 
 sorrowful eye from one to another of his bloodily- 
 disposed companions, “ slay not Asinus ; he is a 
 specimen of his kind of whom much good and 
 little evil can be said. Hardy and docile for hi3 
 genus ; abstemious and patient even for his hum- 
 ble species. We have journeyed much together, 
 and his death would grieve me. — How would it 
 trouble thy spirit, venerable Venator, to separate 
 in such an untimely manner from your faithful 
 hound ? ” 
 
 “ The animal shall not die,” said the old man, 
 suddenly clearing his throat in a manner that 
 proved he felt the force of the appeal; “but his 
 voice must be smothered. Bind his jaws with 
 
A COUNCIL OF WAR. 
 
 101 
 
 the halter, and then I think we may trust the 
 rest to Providence.” 
 
 With this double security for the discretion 
 of Asinus, for Paul instantly bound the muzzle 
 of the ass in the manner required, the trapper 
 seemed content. After which he proceeded to 
 the margin of the thicket to reconnoitre. 
 
 The uproar which attended the passage of the 
 herd was now gone, or rather it was heard roll- 
 ing along the prairie, at the distance of a mile. 
 The clouds of dust were already blown away by 
 the wind, and a clear range was left to the eye in 
 that place where ten minutes before there existed 
 a scene of so much wildness and confusion. 
 
 The Sioux had completed their conquest, 
 and, apparently satisfied with this addition to the 
 numerous previous captures they had made, they 
 now seemed content to let the remainder of the 
 herd escape. A dozen remained around the car- 
 cass, orer which a few buzzards were balancing 
 themselves with steady wings and greedy eyes, 
 while the rest were riding about in quest of such 
 further booty as might come in their way on the 
 trail of so vast a drove. The trapper measured 
 the proportions and scanned the equipments of 
 such individuals as drew nearer to the side of the 
 thicket with careful eyes. At length he pointed 
 out one among them to Middleton as Weucha. 
 
 “Now know we not only who they are, but 
 their errand,” the old man continued, deliberately 
 shaking his head. “ They have lost the trail of 
 the squatter, and are on its hunt. These buffa- 
 loes have crossed their path, and in chasing the 
 animals bad luck has led them in open sight of 
 the hill on which the brood of Ishmael have har- 
 bored. Do you see yon birds watching for the 
 offals of the beast they have killed ? Therein is 
 a moral which teaches the manner of a prairie- 
 life. A band of Pawnees are outlying for these 
 very Siouxes, as you see the buzzards looking 
 clown for their food ; and it behooves us, as Chris- 
 tian men who have so much at stake, to look down 
 upon them both. Ha ! what brings yonder two 
 skirting reptiles to a stand ? As you live, they 
 have found the place where the miserable son of 
 the squatter met his death ! ” 
 
 The old man was not mistaken. Weucha, and 
 a savage who accompanied him, had reached that 
 spot which has already been mentioned as fur- 
 nishing the frightful evidences of violence and 
 bloodshed. There they sat on their horses, ex- 
 amining the well-known signs with the intelligence 
 that distinguishes the habits of Indians. Their 
 scrutiny was long, and apparently not without 
 distrust. At length they raised a cry that was 
 scarcely less piteous and startling than that which 
 
 the hounds had before made over the same fatal 
 signs, and which did not fail to draw the whole 
 band immediately around them, as the fell bark 
 of the jackal is said to gather his comrades to 
 the chase. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 “Welcome, ancient Pistol.” 
 
 Shakespeabe. 
 
 It was not long before the trapper pointed 
 out the commanding person of Mahtoree as the 
 leader of the Sioux. This chief, who had been 
 among the last to obey the vociferous summons 
 of Weucha, no sooner reached the spot where his 
 whole party was now gathered, than he threw 
 himself from his horse, and proceeded to examine 
 the marks of the extraordinary trail with that de- 
 gree of dignity and attention which became his 
 high and responsible station. The warriors, for 
 it was but too evident that they were to a man 
 of that fearless and ruthless class, awaited the re- 
 sult of his investigation with patient reserve ; 
 none but a few of the principal braves presuming 
 even to speak while their leader was thus gravely 
 occupied. It was several minutes before Mahto- 
 ree seemed satisfied. He then directed his eyes 
 along the ground to those several places where 
 Ishmael had found the same revolting evidences 
 of the passage of some bloody struggle, and mo- 
 tioned to his people to follow. 
 
 The whole band advanced in a body toward 
 the thicket, until they came to a halt within a few 
 yards of the precise spot where Esther had stimu- 
 lated her sluggish sons to break into the cover. 
 The reader will readily imagine that the trapper 
 and his companions were not indifferent observers 
 of so threatening a movement. The old man 
 summoned all who were capable of bearing arms 
 to his side, and demanded in very unequivocal 
 terms, though in a voice that was suitably lowered 
 in order to escape the ears of their dangerous 
 neighbors, whether they were disposed to make 
 battle for their liberty or whether they should try 
 the milder expedient of conciliation. As it was 
 a subject in which all had an equal interest, he 
 put the question as to a council of war, and not 
 without some slight exhibition of the lingering 
 vestiges of a nearly extinct military pride. Paul 
 and the doctor were diametrically opposed to 
 each other in opinion ,• the former declaring for 
 an immediate appeal to arms, and the latter was 
 warmly espousing the policy of pacific measures. 
 Middleton, who saw that there was great danger 
 
102 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 of a hot verbal dispute between two men who 
 were governed by feelings so diametrically op- 
 posed, saw fit to assume the office of arbiter; or 
 rather to decide the question, his situation mak- 
 ing him a sort of umpire. He also leaned to the 
 side of peace, for he evidently saw that, in conse- 
 quence of the vast superiority of their enemies, 
 violence would irretrievably lead to their destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 The trapper listened to the reasons of the 
 young soldier with great attention ; and, as they 
 were given with the steadiness of one who did 
 not suffer apprehension to blind his judgment, 
 ' they did not fail to produce a suitable impres- 
 sion. 
 
 “It is rational,” rejoined the trapper, when 
 the other had delivered his reasons ; “it is very 
 rational, for, what man cannot move with his 
 strength, he must circumvent with his wits. It 
 is reason that makes him stronger than the buf- 
 falo and swifter than the moose. Now, stay you 
 here and keep yourselves close. My life and my 
 traps are but of little value when the welfare of 
 so many human souls is concerned ; and, moreover, 
 I may say that I know the windings of Indian 
 cunning. Therefore will I go alone upon the 
 prairie. It may so happen that I can yet draw 
 the eyes of a Sioux from this spot, and give you 
 time and room to fly.” 
 
 As if resolved to listen to no remonstrance, 
 the old man quietly shouldered his rifle, and, mov- 
 ing leisurely through the thicket, he issued on 
 the plain at a point whence he might first appear 
 before the eyes of the Sioux without exciting 
 their suspicions that he came from its cover. 
 
 The instant that the figure of a man dressed 
 in the garb of a hunter, and bearing the well- 
 known and much-dreaded rifle, appeared before 
 the eyes of the Sioux, there was a sensible though 
 a suppressed sensation in the band. The arti- 
 fice of the trapper had so far succeeded as to 
 render it extremely doubtful whether he came 
 from some point on the open prairie or from the 
 thicket; though the Indians still continued to 
 cast frequent and suspicious glances at' the cover. 
 They had made their halt at the distance of an 
 arrow-flight from the bushes ; but when the 
 stranger came sufficiently nigh to show that the 
 deep coating of red and brown which time and 
 exposure had given to his features, was laid upon 
 the original color of a pale-face, they slowly re- 
 ceded from the spot until they reached a distance 
 that might defeat the aim of fire-arms. 
 
 In the mean time the old man continued to 
 advance, until he had got nigh enough to make 
 himself heard without difficulty. Here he stopped, 
 
 and, dropping his rifle to the earth, he raised hig 
 hand with the palm outward, in token of peace. 
 After uttering a few words of reproach to his 
 hound, who watched the savage group with eyes 
 that seemed to recognize them, he spoke in the 
 Sioux tongue : 
 
 “My brothers are welcome,” he said, cun- 
 ningly constituting himself the master of the 
 region in which they had met, and assuming the 
 offices of hospitality. “ They are far from their 
 villages, and are hungry. Will they follow to 
 my lodge, to eat and sleep ? ” 
 
 No sooner was his voice heard, than the yell 
 of pleasure which burst from a dozen mouths, 
 convinced the sagacious trapper that he also was 
 recognized. Feeling that it was too late to retreat 
 he profited by the confusion which prevailed 
 among them, while Weucha was explaining his 
 character, to advance, until he was again face to 
 face with the redoubtable Mahtoree. The second 
 interview between these two men, each of whom 
 was extraordinary in his way, was marked by the 
 usual caution of the frontiers. They stood, for 
 nearly a minute, examining each other without 
 speaking. 
 
 “ Where are your young men ? ” sternly de- 
 manded the Teton chieftain, after he found that 
 the immovable features of the trapper refused 
 to betray any of their master’s secrets, under his 
 intimidating look. 
 
 “ The Long-knives do not come in bands to 
 trap the beaver ! I am alone.” 
 
 “ Your head is white, but you have a forked 
 tongue. Mahtoree has been in your Camp. He 
 knows that you are not alone. Where is your 
 young wife, and the warrior that I found upon 
 the prairie?” 
 
 “I have no wife. I have told my brother 
 that the woman and her friend were strangers. 
 The words of a gray head should be heard, and 
 not forgotten. The Dahcotahs found travellers 
 asleep, and they thought they had no need of 
 horses. The women and children of a pale-face 
 are not used to go far on foot. Let them be 
 sought where you left them.” 
 
 The eyes of the Teton flashed fire as he 
 answered — 
 
 “They are gone: but Mahtoree is a wise 
 chief, and his eyes can see a great distance ! ” 
 
 “ Does the partisan of the Tetons see men on 
 these naked fields ? ” retorted the trapper, with 
 great steadiness of mien. “ I am very old, and 
 my eyes grow dim. Where do they stand ? ” 
 
 The chief remained silent a moment, as if he 
 disdained to contest any further the truth of a 
 fact, concerning which he was already satisfied. 
 
MAHTOREE, THE TETON CHIEF. 
 
 103 
 
 Then, pointing to the traces on the earth, he said, 
 with a sudden transition to mildness in his eye 
 and manner : 
 
 “ My father has learned wisdom in many win- 
 ters ; can he tell me whose moccasin has left this 
 trail?” 
 
 “ There have been wolves and buffaloes on 
 the prairies ; and there may have been cougars 
 too.” 
 
 Mahtoree glanced his eye at the thicket, as if 
 he thought the latter suggestion not impossible. 
 Pointing to the place, he ordered his young men 
 to reconnoitre it more closely, cautioning them at 
 the same time, with a stern look at the trapper, to 
 beware of treachery from the Big-knives. Three 
 or four half-naked, eager-looking youths lashed 
 their horses at the word, and darted away to obey 
 the mandate. The old man trembled a little for 
 the discretion of Paul, when he saw this demon- 
 stration. The Tetons encircled the place two or 
 three times, approaching nigher and nigher at 
 each circuit, and then galloped back to their 
 leader to report that the copse seemed empty. 
 Notwithstanding the trapper watched the eye of 
 Mahtoree, to detect the inward movements of his 
 mind, and if possible to anticipate, in order to 
 direct his suspicions, the utmost sagacity of one 
 so long accustomed to study the cold habits of 
 the Indian race could, however, detect no symp- 
 tom or expression that denoted how far he cred- 
 ited or distrusted this intelligence. Instead of 
 replying to the information of his scouts, he 
 spoke kindly to his horse, and motioning to a 
 youth to receive the bridle, or rather halter, by 
 which he governed the animal, he took the trap- 
 per by the arm, and led him a little apart from 
 the rest of the band. 
 
 “ Has my brother been a warrior ? ” said the 
 wily Teton, in a tone that he intended should be 
 conciliating. 
 
 “ Do the leaves cover the trees in the season 
 of fruits ? Go. The Dahcotahs have not seen 
 as many warriors living as I have looked on in 
 their blood ! But what signifies idle remembran 
 cing,” he added, in English, “ when limbs grow 
 stiff and sight is failing ? ” 
 
 The chief regarded him a moment with a se- 
 vere look, as if he would lay bare the falsehood 
 he had heard ; but, meeting in the calm eye and 
 steady mien of the trapper a confirmation of the 
 truth of what he said, he took the hand of the 
 old man, and laid it gently on his head in token 
 of the respect that was due to the other’s years 
 and experience. 
 
 “ Why, then, do the Big-knives tell their red 
 brethren to bury tbe tomahawk,” he said, “when 
 
 their own young men never forget that they are 
 braves, and meet each other so often with bloody 
 hands ? ” 
 
 “ My nation is more numerous than the buf- 
 faloes on the prairies or the pigeons in the air. 
 Their quarrels are frequent; yet their warriors 
 are few. None go out on the war-path but they 
 who are gifted with the qualities of a brave, an 
 therefore such see many battles.” 
 
 “It is not so — my father is mistaken,” re- 
 turned Mahtoree, indulging in a smile of exult- 
 ing penetration at the very instant he corrected 
 the force of his denial in deference to the years 
 and services of one so aged. “ The Big-knives are 
 very wise, and they are men ; all of them would 
 be warriors. They would leave the red-skins to 
 dig roots and hoe the corn. But a Dahcotah is 
 not born to live like a woman ; he must strike the 
 Pawnee and the Omahaw, or he will lose the 
 name of his fathers.” 
 
 “ The Master of Life looks with an open eye 
 on his children who die in a battle that is fought 
 for the right ; but he is blind and his ears are 
 shut to the cries of an Indian who is killed when 
 plundering or doing evil to his neighbor.” 
 
 “ My father is old,” said Mahtoree, looking at 
 his aged companion w ith an expression of irony 
 that sufficiently denoted he was one of those who 
 overstep the trammels of education, and who are 
 perhaps a little given to abuse the mental liberty 
 they thus obtain. “ He is very old : has he made 
 a journey to the far country ; and has he been at 
 the trouble to come back to tell the young men 
 what he has seen? ” 
 
 “ Teton,” returned the trapper, throwing the 
 breech of his rifle to the earth with startling 
 vehemence, and regarding his companion with 
 steady serenity, “I have heard that there are 
 men among my people who study their great 
 medicines until they believe themselves to be 
 gods, and who laugh at all faith except in their 
 own vanities. It may be true. It is true ; for I 
 have seen them. When man is shut up in towns 
 and schools with his own follies, it may be easy 
 to believe himself greater than .the Master of 
 Life ; but a w arrior who lives in a house with the 
 clouds for its roof, where he can at any moment 
 look both at the heavens and at the earth, and 
 who daily sees the power of the Great . Spirit, 
 should be more humble. A Dahcotah chieftain 
 ought to be too wise to laugh at justice.” 
 
 The crafty Mahtoree, who saw that his free- 
 thinking was not likely to produce a favorable 
 impression on the old man, instantly changed his 
 ground, by alluding to the more immediate sub- 
 ject of their interview. Laying his hand gently 
 
104 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 i>n the shoulder of the trapper, he led him for- 
 ward until they both stood within fifty feet of the 
 margin of the thicket. Here he fastened his 
 penetrating eyes on the other’s honest counte- 
 nance, and continued the discourse : 
 
 “If my father has hid his young men in 
 the bush, let him tell them to come forth. You 
 eeo that a Dahcotah is not afraid. Mahtoree is a 
 great chief! A warrior whose head is white, and 
 who is about to go to the Land of Spirits, cannot 
 have a tongue with two ends, like a serpent.” 
 
 “ Dahcotah, I have told no lie. Since the 
 Great Spirit made me a man I have lived in the 
 wilderness, or on these naked plains, without lodge 
 or family. I am a hunter, and ‘go on my path 
 alone.” 
 
 “My father has a good carabine. Let him 
 point it in the bush and fire.” 
 
 The old man hesitated a moment, and then 
 slowly prepared himself to give this delicate as- 
 surance of the truth of what he said, without 
 which he plainly perceived the suspicions of his 
 crafty companion could not be lulled. As he 
 lowered his rifle, his eye, although greatly dimmed 
 and weakened by age, ran over the confused 
 collection of objects that lay embedded amid the 
 party-colored foliage of the thicket, until it suc- 
 ceeded in catching a glimpse of the brown cov- 
 ering of the stem of a small tree. With this 
 object in view, he raised the piece to a level and 
 fired. The bullet had no sooner glided from the 
 barrel than a tremor seized the hands of the 
 trapper, which, had it occurred a moment sooner, 
 would have utterly disqualified him for so hazard- 
 ous an experiment. A frightful silence succeeded 
 the report, during which he expected to hear the 
 shrieks of the females ; and then, as the smoke 
 whirled away in the wind, he caught a view of 
 the fluttering bark, and felt assured that all his 
 former skill was not entirely departed from him. 
 Dropping the piece to the earth, he turned again 
 to his companion with an air of the utmost com- 
 posure, and demanded : 
 
 “ Is my brother satisfied ? ” 
 
 “ Mahtoree is a chief of the Dahcotahs,” re- 
 turned the cunning Teton, laying his hand on his 
 chest, in acknowledgment of the other’s sincerity. 
 “ He knows that a warrior, who has smoked at 
 so many council-fires, until his head has grown 
 white, would not be found in wicked company. 
 But did not my father once tide on a horse, like 
 a rich chief of the pale-faces, instead of travelling 
 on foot like a hungry Konza ? ” 
 
 “ Never ! The Wahcondah has given me legs, 
 and he has given me resolution to use them. For 
 sixty summers and winters did I journey in the 
 
 woods of America, and ten tiresome years have 
 I dwelt on these open fields, without finding need 
 to call often upon the gifts of the other creatur’s 
 of the Lord to carry me from place to place.” 
 
 “ If my father has so long lived in the shade, 
 why has he come upon the prairies ? The sun 
 will scorch him.” 
 
 The old man looked sorrowfully about for a 
 moment, and then, turning with a confidential air 
 to the other, he replied : 
 
 “ I passed the spring, summer, and autumn of 
 life among the trees. The winter of my days had 
 come, and found me where I loved to be, in the 
 quiet — ay, and in the honesty of the woods! 
 Teton, then I slept happily, where my eyes could 
 look up through the branches of the pines and 
 the beeches, to the very dwelling of the Good 
 Spirit of my people. If I had need to open my 
 heart to him, while his fires were burning above 
 my head, the door was open and before my eyes. 
 But the axes of the choppers awoke me. For a 
 long time my ears heard nothing but the uproar 
 of clearings. I bore it like a warrior and a man ; 
 there was reason that I should bear it : but when 
 that reason was ended, I bethought me to get 
 beyond the accursed sounds. It was trying to 
 the courage and to the habits, but I had heard of 
 these vast and naked fields, and I come hither to 
 escape the wasteful temper of my people. Tell 
 me, Dahcotah, have I not done well ? ” 
 
 The trapper laid his long, lean finger on the 
 naked shoulder of the Indian as he ended, and 
 seemed to demand his felicitations on his inge- 
 nuity and success with a ghastly smile, in which 
 triumph was singularly blended with regret. His 
 companion listened intently, and replied to the 
 question by saying, in the sententious manner of 
 his race : 
 
 “ The head of my father is very gray ; he has 
 always lived with men and he has seen every thing. 
 What he does is good ; what he speaks is wise. 
 Now let him say is he sure that he is a stranger 
 to the Big-knives, who are looking for their beasts 
 on every side of the prairies and cannot find 
 them ? ” 
 
 “ Dahcotah, what I have said is true. I live 
 alone, and never do I mingle with men whose 
 skins are white, if — ” 
 
 His mouth was suddenly closed by an inter 
 ruption that was as mortifying as it was unexpect- 
 ed. The words were still on his tongue, when 
 the bushes on the side of the thicket where they 
 stood opened, and the whole of the party whom 
 he had just left, and in whose behalf he was en- 
 deavoring to reconcile his love of truth to th« 
 necessity of prevaricating, came openly into view. 
 
STRANGE PARTIES. 
 
 105 
 
 A pause of mute astonishment succeeded this un- 
 looked-for spectacle. Then Mahtoree, who did 
 not suffer a muscle or a joint to betray the won- 
 der and surprise he actually experienced, mo- 
 tioned toward the advancing friends of the trap- 
 per with an air of assumed civility, and a smile 
 that lighted his fierce, dark visage, as the glare 
 of the setting sun reveals the volume and load of 
 the cloud, that is charged to bursting with the 
 olectric fluid. He, however, disdained to speak, 
 or to give any other evidence of hi3 intentions than 
 by calling to his side the distant band, who sprang 
 forward at his beck, with the alacrity of willing 
 subordinates. 
 
 In the mean time the friends of the old man 
 continued to advance. Middleton himself was 
 foremost, supporting the light and aerial-looking 
 figure of Inez, on whose anxious countenance he 
 cast such occasional glances of tender interest, 
 as, in similar circumstances, a father would have 
 given to his child. Paul led Ellen, close in their 
 rear. But, while the eye of the bee-hunter did 
 not neglect his blooming companion, it scowled 
 angrily, resembling more the aspect of the sullen 
 and retreating bear than the soft intelligence of 
 a favored suitor. Obed and Asinus came last, the 
 former leading his companion with a degree of 
 fondness that could hardly be said to be exceeded 
 by any other of the party. The approach of the 
 naturalist was far less rapid than that of those 
 who preceded him. His feet seemed equally 
 reluctant to advance or to remain stationary ; his 
 position bearing a great analogy to that of Mo- 
 hammed’s coffin, with the exception that the qual- 
 ity of repulsion rather than that of attraction 
 held him in a state of rest. The repulsive power 
 in his rear, however, appeared to predominate ; 
 and, by a singular exception, as he would have 
 said himself, to all philosophical principles, it 
 rather increased than diminished by distance. 
 As the eyes of the naturalist steadily maintained 
 a position that was the opposite of his route, 
 they served to give a direction to those of the ob- 
 servers of all these movements, and at once fur- 
 nished a sufficient clew by which to unravel the 
 mystery of so sudden a debouchement from the 
 cover. 
 
 Another cluster of stout and armed men was 
 seen at no great distance, just rounding a point 
 of the thicket, and moving directly though cau- 
 tiously toward the place where the band of the 
 Sioux was posted, as a squadron of cruisers is 
 often seen to steer across the waste of waters 
 toward the rich but well-protected convoy. In 
 short, the family of the squatter, or at least such 
 among them as were capable of bearing arms, ap- 
 59 
 
 peared in view, on the broad prairie, evidently 
 bent on revenging their wrongs. 
 
 Mahtoree and his party slowly retired from 
 the thicket, the moment they caught a view of 
 the strangers, until they halted on a swell that 
 commanded a wide and unobstructed view of the 
 naked fields on which they stood. Here the Dah- 
 cotah appeared disposed to make his stand, and 
 to bring matters to an issue. Notwithstanding 
 this retreat, in which he compelled the trapper 
 to accompany him, Middleton still advanced until 
 he too halted on the same elevation, and within 
 speaking distance of the warlike Sioux. The 
 borderers in their turn took a favorable posi- 
 tion, though at a much greater distance. The 
 three groups now resembled so many fleets at sea, 
 lying with their topsails to the masts, with the 
 commendable precaution of reconnoitring, before 
 each could ascertain who among the strangers 
 might be considered as friends, and who as foes. 
 During this moment of suspense, the dark, threat- 
 ening eye of Mahtoree rolled from one of the 
 strange parties to the other, in keen and hasty ex- 
 amination, and then it turned its withering look 
 on the old man, as the chief said, in a tone of 
 high and bitter scorn : 
 
 “ The Big-knives are fools ! It. is easier to 
 catch the cougar asleep than to find a blind Dah- 
 cotah. Did the white-head think to ride on tha 
 horse of a Sioux ? ” 
 
 The trapper, who had found time to collect his 
 perplexed faculties, saw at once that Middleton, 
 having perceived Ishmael on the trail by which 
 they had fled, preferred trusting to the hospital- 
 ity of the savages than to the treatment he would 
 be likely to receive from the hands of the squat- 
 ter. He therefore disposed himself to clear the 
 way for the favorable reception of his friends, 
 since he found that the unnatural coalition be- 
 came necessary to secure the liberty, if not the 
 lives, of the party. 
 
 “ Did my brother ever go on a war-path to 
 strike my people ? ” he calmly demanded of the 
 indignant chief, who still awaited his reply. 
 
 The lowering aspect of the Teton warrior so 
 far lost its severity as to suffer a gleam of pleas- 
 ure and triumph to lighten its ferocity, as, sweep- 
 ing his arm in an entire circle around his person^ 
 he answered ; 
 
 “ What tribe or nation has not felt the blows 
 of the Dahcotahs ? Mahtoree is their partisan.” 
 
 “ And has he found the Big-knives women, or 
 has he found them men ? ” 
 
 A multitude of fierce passions were struggling 
 in the tawny countenance of the Indian. For a 
 moment inextinguishable hatred seemed to hold 
 
L06 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 the mastery, and then a nobler expression, and 
 one that better became the character of a brave, 
 got possession of his features, and maintained 
 itself until, first throwing aside his light robe of 
 pictured deer-skin, and pointing to the scar of a 
 bayonet in his breast, he replied : 
 
 “ It was given as it was taken, face to face.” 
 
 “ It is enough. My brother is a brave chief, 
 snd he should be wise. Let him look : is that 
 a warrior of the pale-faces ? Was it one such as 
 that who gave the great Dahcotah his hurt ? ” 
 
 The eyes of Mahtoree followed the direction 
 of the old man’s extended arm, until they rested 
 on the drooping form of Inez. The look of the 
 Teton was long, riveted, and admiring. Like 
 that of the young Pawnee, it resembled more the 
 gaze of a mortal on some heavenly image, than 
 the admiration with which man is wont to con- 
 template even the loveliness of woman. Start- 
 ing, as if suddenly self-convicted of forgetfulness, 
 the chief next turned his eyes on Ellen, where 
 they lingered an instant with a much more intelli- 
 gible expression of admiration, and then pur- 
 sued their course until they had taken another 
 glance at each individual of the party. 
 
 “ My brother sees that my tongue is not 
 forked,” continued the trapper, watching the emo- 
 tions the other betrayed, with a readiness of com- 
 prehension little inferior to that of the Teton 
 himself. “The Big-knives do not send their 
 women to war. I know that the Dahcotahs will 
 Smoke with the strangers.” 
 
 “ Mahtoree is a great chief ! The Big-knives 
 are welcome,” said the Teton, laying his hand on 
 his breast with an air of lofty politeness that 
 would have done credit to any state of society. 
 “The arrows of my young men are in their 
 quivers.” 
 
 The trapper motioned to Middleton to ap- 
 proach, and in a few moments the two parties 
 were blended in one, each of the males having 
 exchanged friendly greetings, after the fashions 
 of the prairie warriors. But, even while engaged 
 in this hospitable manner, the Dahcotah did not 
 fail to keep a strict watch on the more distant 
 party of white men, as if he still distrusted an 
 artifice, or sought further explanation. The old 
 man, in his turn, perceived the necessity of be- 
 ing more explicit, and of securing the slight and 
 equivocal advantage he had already obtained. 
 While affecting to examine the group which still 
 lingered at the spot whern it had first halted, as 
 if to discover the characters of those who com- 
 posed it, he plainly saw thatlshmael contemplated 
 immediate hostilities. The result of a conflict on 
 the open prairie between a dozen resolute border- 
 
 men and the half-armed natives, even though 
 seconded by their white allies, was, in his experi- 
 enced judgment, a point of great uncertainty ; 
 and, though far from reluctant to engage in the 
 struggle on account of himself, the aged trapper 
 thought it far more worthy of his years and his 
 character, to avoid than to court the contest. His 
 feelings were, for obvious reasons, in accordance 
 with those of Paul and Middleton, who had lives 
 still more precious than their own to watch over 
 and protect. In this dilemma the three consulted 
 on the means of escaping the frightful consequences 
 which might immediately follow a single act of 
 hostility on the part of the borderers ; the old 
 man taking care that their communication should, 
 in the eyes of those who noted the expression of 
 their countenances with jealous watchfulness, bear 
 the appearance of explanations as to the reason 
 why such a party of travellers was met so far in 
 the deserts. 
 
 “ I know that the Dahcotahs are a wise and 
 great people,” at length the trapper commenced, 
 again addressing himself to the chief ; “ but does 
 not their partisan know a single brother who is 
 base ? ” 
 
 The eye of Mahtoree wandered proudly around 
 his band, but rested a moment reluctantly on 
 Weucha, as he answered — “ The Master of life 
 has made chiefs, and warriors, and women ; ” con- 
 ceiving that he thus embraced all the gradations 
 of human excellence from the highest to the low- 
 est. 
 
 “ And he has also made pale-faces who are 
 wicked. Such are they whom my brother sees 
 yonder.” 
 
 “ Do they go on foot to do wrong ? ” demanded 
 the Teton, with a wild gleam from his eyes, that 
 sufficiently betrayed how well he knew the reason 
 why they were reduced to so humble an expe- 
 dient. 
 
 “ Their beasts are gone. But their powder, 
 and their lead, and their blankets, remain.” 
 
 “ Do they carry their riches in their hands, 
 like miserable Konzas ? or are they brave, and 
 leave them with the women, as men should do, 
 who know where to find what they lose ? ” 
 
 My brother sees the spot of blue across the 
 prairie ; look, the sun has touched it for the last 
 time to-day.” 
 
 “ Mahtoree is not a mole.” 
 
 “ It is a rock ; on it are the goods cf the Big- 
 knives.” 
 
 An expression of savage joy shot into the 
 dark countenance of the Teton as he listened * 
 turning to the old man he seemed to read his soui, 
 as if to assure himself he was not deceived. Tueu 
 
INDIAN TACTICS. 
 
 101 
 
 be bent his look on the party of Ishmael, and 
 counted its number. 
 
 “ One warrior is wanting,” he said. 
 
 “ Does my brother see the buzzards ? there is 
 his grave. Did he find blood on the prairie ? It 
 was his.” 
 
 “ Enough ! Mahtoree is a wise chief. Put 
 your women on the horses of the Dahcotahs : we 
 shall see, for our eyes are open very wide.” 
 
 The trapper wasted no unnecessary words in 
 explanation. Familiar with the brevity and 
 promptitude of the natives, he immediately com- 
 municated the result to his companions. Paul 
 was mounted in an instant, with Ellen at his back. 
 A few more moments were necessary to assure 
 Middleton of the security and ease of Inez. While 
 he was thus engaged, Mahtoree advanced to the 
 side of the beast he had allotted to this service, 
 which was his own, and manifested an intention 
 to occupy his customary place on its back. The 
 young soldier seized the reins of the animal, and 
 glances of sudden anger and lofty pride were ex- 
 changed between them. 
 
 “ No man takes this seat but myself,” said 
 Middleton, sternly, in English. 
 
 “ Mahtoree is a great chief! ” retorted the 
 savage ; neither comprehending the meaning of 
 the other’s words. 
 
 “ The Dahcotah will be too late,” whispered 
 the old man at his elbow ; “ see ! the Big-knives 
 are afraid, and they will soon run.” 
 
 The Teton chief instantly abandoned his 
 claim, and threw himself on another horse, direct- 
 ing one of his young men to furnish a similar ac- 
 commodation for the trapper. The warriors who 
 were dismounted got up behind as many of their 
 companions. Dr. Battius bestrode Asinus ; and, 
 notwithstanding the brief interruption, in half the 
 time we have taken to relate it the whole party 
 was prepared to move. 
 
 When he saw that all were ready, Mahtoree 
 gave the signal to advance. A few of the best 
 mounted of the warriors, the chief himself in- 
 cluded, moved a little in front, and made a threat- 
 ening demonstration, as if they intended to attack 
 the strangers. The squatter, who was in truth 
 slowly retiring, instantly halted his party, and 
 showed a willing front. Instead, however, of 
 coming within reach of the dangerous aim of the 
 Western rifle, the subtle savages kept wheeling 
 about the strangers until they had made a half 
 circuit, keeping the latter in constant expectation 
 of an assault. Then, perfectly secure of their ob- 
 ject, the Tetons raised a loud shout, and darted 
 across the prairie in a line for the distant rock, 
 with the directness and nearly with the velocity 
 
 of the arrow that has just been shot from ita 
 bow. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 “ Dally not with the gods, but get thee gone.” 
 
 SlIAKKSI'EAHB. 
 
 Mahtoree had scarcely given the first intima- 
 tion of his real design, before a general discharge 
 from the borderers proved how well they under- 
 stood it. The distance and the rapidity cf the 
 flight, however, rendered the fire harmless. As a 
 proof how little he regarded the hostility of their 
 party, the Dahcotah chieftain answered the report 
 with a yell ; and, flourishing his carabine above his 
 head, he made a circuit on the plain, followed by his 
 chosen warriors, in scorn of the impotent attempt 
 of his enemies. As the main body continued the 
 direct course, this little band of the elite, in re- 
 turning from its wild exhibition of savage con- 
 tempt, took its place in the rear, with a dexteri- 
 ty and a concert of action that showed the ma- 
 noeuvre had been contemplated. 
 
 Volley swiftly succeeded volley, until the en- 
 raged squatter was reluctantly compelled to aban- 
 don the idea of injuring his enemies by means so 
 feeble. Relinquishing his fruitless attempt, he 
 commenced a rapid pursuit, occasionally discharg- 
 ing a rifle in order to give the alarm to the garrison, 
 which be had prudently left under the command of 
 the redoubtable Esther herself. In this manner the 
 chase was continued for many minutes, the horse- 
 men gradually gaining on their pursuers, who 
 maintained the race, however, with an incredi- 
 ble power of foot. 
 
 As the little speck of blue rose against the 
 heavens, like an island issuing from the deep, the 
 savages occasionally raised a yell of triumph. 
 But the mists of evening were already gathering 
 along the whole of the eastern margin of the prai- 
 rie, and before the band had made half of the 
 necessary distance the dim outline of the rock had 
 melted into the haze of the background. Indiffer- 
 ent to this circumstance, which rather favored than 
 disconcerted his plans, Mahtoree, who had again 
 ridden in front, held on his course with the ac- 
 curacy of a hound of the truest scent, merely 
 slackening his speed a little, as the horses of his 
 party were by this time thoroughly blown. It 
 was at this stage of the enterprise that the old 
 man rode up to the side of Middleton, and ad- 
 dressed him as follows in English : 
 
 “ Here is likely to be a thieving business, 
 and one in which I must say I have but little 
 wish to be a partner.” 
 
108 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 “ What would you do ? It would be fatal to 
 trust ourselves in the hands of the miscreants in 
 our rear.” 
 
 “ Tut for miscreants, be they red or be they 
 white ! Look ahead, lad, as if ye were talking of 
 our medicines, or perhaps praising the Teton 
 beasts. For the knaves love to hear their horses 
 commended, the same as a foolish mother in the 
 settlements is fond of hearing the praises of her 
 wilful child. So— pat the animal, and lay your 
 hand on the gewgaws with which the red-skins 
 have ornamented his mane, giving your eye as it 
 were to one thing, and your mind to another. 
 Listen: if matters are managed with judgment 
 we may leave these Tetons as the night sets in.” 
 
 “ A blessed thought ! ” exclaimed Middleton, 
 who retained a painful remembrance of the look 
 of admiration with which Mahtoree had contem- 
 plated the loveliness of Inez, as well as of his 
 subsequent presumption in daring to wish to take 
 the office of her protector on himself. 
 
 “ Lord, Lord ! what a weak creatur’ is man, 
 when the gifts of Natur’ are smothered in bookish 
 knowledge and womanly manners 1 Such another 
 start would tell these imps at our elbows that we 
 were plotting against them, just as plainly as if 
 it were whispered in their ears by a Sioux tongue. 
 Ay, ay, I know the devils ; they look as innocent 
 as so many frisky fawns, but there is not one 
 among them all that has not an eye on our small- 
 est motions. Therefore, what is to be done is to 
 be done in wisdom, in order to circumvent their 
 cunning. — That is right ; pat his neck and smile, 
 as if you praised the horse, and keep the ear on 
 my side open to my words. Be careful not to 
 worry your beast, for, though but little skilled in 
 horses, reason teaches that breath is needful in a 
 hard push, and that a weary leg makes a dull race. 
 Be ready to mind the signal, when you hear a 
 whine from old Hector. The first will be to make 
 ready ; the second, to edge out of the crowd ; 
 and the third, to go — am I understood ? ” 
 
 “ Perfectly, perfectly,” said Middleton, trem- 
 bling in his excessive eagerness to put the plan in 
 instant execution, and pressing the little arm, 
 which encircled his body, to his heart. “ Perfect- 
 ly. Hasten, hasten ! ” 
 
 “ Ay, the beast is no sloth,” continued the 
 trapper in the Teton language, as if he continued 
 the discourse, edging cautiously through the 
 dusky throng at the same time, until he found 
 himself riding at the side of Paul. He communi- 
 cated his intentions in the same guarded manner 
 as before. The high-spirited and fearless bee- 
 hunter received the intelligence with delight, de- 
 claring his readiness to engage the whole of the 
 
 savage band, should it become necessary to effect 
 their object. When the old man drew off from 
 the side of this pair also, he cast his eyes about 
 him to discover the situation occupied by the 
 naturalist. 
 
 The doctor, with infinite labor to himself and 
 Asinus, had maintained a position in the very 
 centre of the Sioux, so long as there existed 
 the smallest reason for believing that any of the 
 missiles of Ishmael might arrive in contact with 
 his person. After this danger had diminished, or 
 rather disappeared entirely, his own courage re- 
 vived, while that of his steed began to droop. 
 To this mutual but very material change was ow- 
 ing the fact that the rider and the ass were 
 now to be sought among that portion of the band 
 who formed a sort of rear-guard. Hither, then, 
 the trapper contrived to turn his steed, without 
 exciting the suspicions of any of his subtle com- 
 panions. 
 
 “ Friend,” commenced the old man, when he 
 found himself in a situation favorable to discourse, 
 “ should you like to pass a dozen years among 
 the savages with a shaved head, and a painted 
 countenance, with, perhaps, a couple of wives and 
 five or six children of the half-breed to call you 
 father ? ” 
 
 “Impossible!” exclaimed the startled natu- 
 ralist. “Iam indisposed to matrimony in general, 
 and more especially to all admixture of the varie- 
 ties of species, which only tend to tarnish the 
 beauty and to interrupt the harmony of Nature. 
 Moreover, it is a painful innovation on the order 
 of all nomenclatures.” 
 
 “Ay, ay, you have reason enough for your 
 distaste to such a life ; but should these Siouxes 
 get you fairly into their village, such would be 
 your luck* as certain as that the sun rises and 
 sets at the pleasure of the Lord.” 
 
 “ Marry me to a woman who is not adorned 
 with the comeliness of the species I ” responded the 
 doctor. “ Of what crime have I been guilty, that 
 so grievous a punishment should await the offence? 
 To marry a man against the movements of his 
 will, is to do a violence to human nature ! ” 
 
 “ Now, that you speak of natur’, I have hopes 
 that the gift of reason has not altogether deserted 
 your brain,” returned the old man, with a covert 
 expression playing about the angles of his deep- 
 set eyes, which betrayed he was not entirely des- 
 titute of humor. “Nay, they may conceive you 
 a remarkable subject for their kindness, and for 
 that matter marry you to five or six. I have 
 known, in my days, favored chiefs who had num- 
 berless wives.” 
 
 “But why should they meditate this ven- 
 
THE TRAPPER’S PLANS OF ESCAPE. 
 
 109 
 
 £eance ? ” demanded the doctor, whose hair began 
 to rise, as if each fibre was possessed of sensibility ; 
 w what eril have I done ? ” 
 
 “ It is the fashion of their kindness. When 
 they come to learn that you are a great medicine, 
 they will adopt you into the tribe, and some 
 mighty chief will give you his name, and perhaps 
 Lis daughter, or it may be a wife or two of his 
 own, who have dwelt long in his lodge, and of 
 whose value he is a judge by experience.” 
 
 “ The Governor and Founder of natural har- 
 mony protect me ! ” ejaculated the doctor. “ I 
 have no affinity to a single consort, much less to 
 duplicates and triplicates of the class ! I shall 
 certainly essay a flight from their abodes before 
 I mingle in so violent a conjunction.” 
 
 “ There is reason in your words ; but why not 
 attempt the race you speak of now ? ” 
 
 The naturalist looked fearfully around, as if 
 he had an inclination to make an instant exhibi- 
 tion of his desperate intention ; but the dusky 
 figures who were riding on every side of him seemed 
 suddenly tripled in number, and the darkness that 
 was already thickening on the prairie appeared 
 n his eyes to possess the glare of high-noon. 
 
 “ It would be premature, and reason forbids 
 it,” he answered. “ Leave me, venerable Venator, 
 to the counsel of my own thoughts, and, when my 
 plans are properly classed, I will advise you of 
 my resolutions.” 
 
 “ Resolutions ! ” repeated the old man, shak- 
 ing his head a little contemptuously as he gave 
 the rein to his horse, and allowed him to mingle 
 with the steeds of the savages. “ Resolution is a 
 word that is talked of in the settlements, and felt 
 on the borders. — Does my brother know the beast 
 on which the pale-face rides ? ” he continued, ad- 
 dressing a gloomy-looking warrior in his own 
 tongue, and making a motion with his arm that 
 at the same time directed his attention to the 
 naturalist and the meek Asinus. 
 
 The Teton turned his eyes for a minute on the 
 animal, but disdained to manifest the smallest por- 
 tion of that wonder he had felt in common with all 
 his companions, on first viewing so rare a quad- 
 ruped. The trapper was not ignorant that, while 
 asses and mules were beginning to be known to th ose 
 tribes who dwelt nearest the Mexicos, they were 
 not usually encountered so far north as the waters 
 of La Platte. He therefore managed to read the 
 mute astonishment that lay so deeply concealed 
 in the tawny visage of the savage, and took his 
 measures accordingly. 
 
 “ Does my brother think that the rider is a 
 warrior of the pale-faces P ” he demanded, when 
 Le believed that sufficient time had elapsed for a 
 
 full examination of the pacific mien of the natu- 
 ralist. 
 
 The flash of scorn which shot across the feat- 
 ures of the Teton was visible even by the dim 
 light of the stars. 
 
 “ Is a Dahcotah a fool ? ” was the answer. 
 
 “They are a wise nation, whose eyes are never 
 shut ; much do I wonder that they have not seen 
 the great medicine of the Big-knives ! ” 
 
 “Wagh!” exclaimed his companion, suffer- 
 ing the whole of his amazement to burst out of 
 his dark, rigid countenance at the surprise, like a 
 flash of lightning illuminating the gloom of mid- 
 night. 
 
 “ The Dahcotah knows that my tongue is not 
 forked. Let him open his eyes wider. Does he 
 not see a very great medicine ? ” 
 
 The light was not necessary to recall to the 
 savage each feature in the really remarkable cos- 
 tume and equipage of Dr. Battius. In common with 
 the rest of the band, and in conformity with the 
 universal practice of the Indians, this warrior, 
 while he had suffered no gaze of idle curiosity to 
 disgrace his manhood, had not permitted a single 
 distinctive mark which might characterize any 
 one of the strangers to escape his vigilance. He 
 knew the air, the stature, the dress, and the feat- 
 ures, even to the color of the eyes and of the 
 hair, of every one of the Big-knives whom he 
 had thus strangely encountered, and deeply had 
 he ruminated on the causes which could have led 
 a party so singularly constituted into the haunts 
 of the rude inhabitants of his native wastes. He 
 had already considered the several physical pow- 
 ers of the whole party, and had duly compared 
 their abilities with what he supposed might have 
 been their intentions. Warriors they were not, 
 for the Big-knives, like the Sioux, left their 
 women in their villages when they went out on 
 the bloody path. The same objections applied to 
 them as hunters, and even as traders, the two 
 characters under which the white men commonly 
 appeared in their villages. He had heard of a 
 great council at which the Menahashah, or Long- 
 knives, and the Washsheomantiqua, or Spaniards, 
 had smoked together, when the latter had sold to 
 the former their incomprehensible rights over 
 those vast regions through which his nation had 
 roamed in freedom for so many ages. His simple 
 mind had not been able to embrace the reasons 
 why one people should thus assume a superiority 
 over the possessions of another; and it will 
 readily be perceived that, at the hint just re- 
 ceived from the trapper, he was not indisposed to 
 fancy that some of the hidden subtlety of that 
 magical influence of which he was so firm a be* 
 
no 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 liever, was about to be practised by the unsuspect- 
 ing subject of their conversation, in furtherance 
 of these mysterious claims. Abandoning, there- 
 fore, all the reserve and dignity of his manner 
 under the conscious helplessness of ignorance, 
 he turned to the old man, and, stretching forth 
 his arms, as if to denote how much he lay at his 
 mercy, he said : 
 
 “ Let my father look at me. I am a wild man 
 of the prairies ; my body is naked ; my hands 
 empty; my skin red. I have struck the Paw- 
 nees, the Konzas, the Omahaws, the Osages, and 
 even the Long-knives. I am a man amid war- 
 riors, but a woman among the conjurers. Let 
 my father speak : the ears of the Teton are open. 
 He listens like a deer to the step of the cougar.” 
 
 “ Such are the wise and uns’archable ways of 
 One who alone knows good from evil ! ” exclaimed 
 the trapper, in English ; “ to some he grants cun- 
 ning, and on others he bestows the gift of man- 
 hood ! It is humbling and it is afflicting to see 
 so noble a creatur’ as this, who has fou’t in many 
 a bloody fray, truckling before his superstition 
 like a beggar asking for the bones you would 
 throw to the dogs. The Lord will forgive me for 
 playing with the ignorance of the savage, for he 
 knows I do it in no mockery of his state, or in 
 idle vaunting of my own ; but in order to save 
 mortal life, and to give justice to the wronged, 
 while I defeat the deviltries of the wicked! 
 — Teton,” speaking again in the language of the 
 listener, “I ask you, is not that a wonderful 
 medicine ? If the Dahcotahs are wise, they will 
 not breathe the air he breathes, nor touch his 
 robes. They know that the Wahconshecheh 
 (bad spirit) loves his own children, and will not 
 turn his back on him that does them harm.” 
 
 The old man delivered this opinion in an 
 ominous and sententious manner, and then rode 
 apart as if he had said enough. The result jus- 
 tified his expectations. The warrior to whom he 
 had addressed himself was not slow to communi- 
 cate his important knowledge to the rest of the 
 rear-guard, and in a very few moments the natu- 
 ralist was the object of general observation and 
 reverence. The trapper, who understood that the 
 natives often worshipped, with a view to propi- 
 tiate, the evil spirit, awaited the workings of his 
 artifiee with the coolness of one who had not 
 the smallest interest in its effects. It was not 
 long before he saw one dark figure after another 
 lashing his horse, and galloping ahead into the 
 centre of the band, until Weucha alone remained 
 nigh the persons of himself and Obed. The very 
 dulness of this grovelling-minded savage, who 
 continued gazing at the supposed conjurer with 
 
 a sort of stupid admiration, opposed now the 
 only obstacle to the complete success of his 
 artifice. 
 
 Thoroughly understanding the character of 
 this Indian, the old man lost no time in getting 
 rid of him also. Riding to his side he said, in 
 an affected whisper: 
 
 “Has Weucha drunk of the milk of the Big- 
 knives to-day ? ” 
 
 “ Hugh ! ” exclaimed the savage, every dull 
 thought instantly recalled from heaven to earth 
 by the question. 
 
 “Because the great captain of my people, 
 who rides in front, has a cow that is never empty. 
 I know it will not be long before he will say, ‘ Are 
 any of my red brethren dry ? ’ ” 
 
 The words were scarcely uttered, before Weu- 
 cha, in his turn, quickened the gait of his beast, 
 and was soon blended with the rest of the dark 
 group, who were riding, at a more moderate pace, 
 a few rods in advance. The trapper, who knew 
 how fickle and sudden were the changes of a 
 savage mind, did not lose a moment in profiting 
 by this advantage. He loosened the reins of his 
 own impatient steed, and in an instant he was 
 again at the side of Obed. 
 
 “ Do you see the twinkling star, that is, may- 
 be, the length of four rifles above the prairie— 
 hereaway to the north, I mean ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, it is of the constellation — ” 
 
 “ A tut for your constellations, man ! do you 
 see the star I mean ? Tell me in the English of 
 the land, yes or no.” 
 
 “Yes.” 
 
 i: The moment my back is turned, pull upon 
 the rein of your ass, until you lose sight of the 
 savages. Then take the Lord for your depend- 
 ence, and yonder star for your guide. Turn 
 neither to the right hand nor to the left, but make 
 diligent use of your time, for your beast is not 
 quick of foot, and every inch of prairie you gain 
 is a day added to your liberty, or to your life.” 
 
 Without waiting to listen to the queries which 
 the naturalist was about to put, the old man again 
 loosened the reins of his horse, and presently he 
 too was blended with the group in front. 
 
 Obed was now alone. Asinus willingly obeyed 
 the hint which his master soon gave, rather in 
 desperation than with any very collected under- 
 standing of the orders he had received, and 
 checked his pace accordingly. As the Tetons, 
 however, rode at a hand-gallop, but a moment of 
 time was necessary, after the ass began to walk, 
 to remove them effectually from before the vision 
 of his rider. Without plan, expectation, or hope 
 of any sort, except that of escaping from kia 
 
TT1E DOCTOR’S DISAPPEARANCE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 dangerous neighbors, the doctor, first feeling to 
 assure himself that the package which contained 
 the miserable remnants of his specimens and notes 
 was safe at his crupper, turned the head of the 
 beast in the required direction, and, kicking him 
 with a species of fury, he soon succeeded in ex- 
 citing the speed of the patient animal into a smart 
 run. He had barely time to descend into a hol- 
 low and ascend the adjoining swell of the prairie 
 before he heard, or fancied he heard, his name 
 shouted in good English from the throats of 
 twenty Tctons. The delusion gave a new im- 
 pulse to his ardor ; and no professor of the sal- 
 tant art ever applied himself with greater indus- 
 try than the naturalist now used his heels on the 
 ribs of Asinus. The conflict endured for several 
 minutes without interruption, and to all appear- 
 ances it might have continued to the present mo- 
 ment had not the meek temper of the beast be- 
 come unduly excited. Borrowing an idea from 
 the manner in which his master exhibited his 
 agitation, Asinus so far changed the application 
 of his own heels as to raise them simultaneously 
 with a certain indignant flourish into the air, a 
 measure that instantly decided the controversy 
 in his favor. Obed took leave of his seat as of 
 a position no longer tenable, continuing, how- 
 ever, the direction of his flight ; while the ass, 
 like a conqueror, took possession of the field of 
 battle, beginning to crop the dry herbage as the 
 fruits of victory. 
 
 When Dr. Battius had recovered his feet 
 and rallied his faculties, which were in a good 
 deal of disorder from the hurried manner in which 
 he had abandoned his former situation, he re- 
 turned in quest of his specimens and of his ass. 
 Asinus displayed enough of magnanimity to ren- 
 der the interview amicable, and thenceforth the 
 naturalist continued the required route with very 
 commendable industry, but with a much more 
 tempered discretion. 
 
 In the mean time the old trapper had not lost 
 eight of the important movements that he had 
 undertaken to control. Obed had not been mis- 
 taken in supposing that he was already missed 
 and sought, though his imagination had corrupt- 
 ed certain savage cries into the well-known 
 sounds that composed his own Latinized name. 
 The truth was simply this : The warriors of the 
 rear-guard had not failed to apprise those in front 
 of the mysterious character with which it had 
 pleased the trapper to invest the unsuspecting nat- 
 uralist. The same untutored admiration which 
 on the receipt of this intelligence had driven those 
 in the rear to the front, now drove many of the 
 front to the rear. The doctor was of course ab- 
 
 sent, and the outcry was no more than the wild 
 yells which were raised in the first burst of sav- 
 age disappointment. 
 
 But the authority of Mahtorc® was prompt to 
 aid the ingenuity of the trapper in suppressing 
 these dangerous sounds. When order was restored 
 and the former was made acquainted with the rea- 
 son why his young men had betrayed so strong a 
 mark of indiscretion, the old man, who had taken 
 a post at his elbow, saw with alarm the gleam of 
 keen distrust that flashed in his swarthy visage. 
 
 ‘‘Where is your conjurer?” demanded the 
 chief, turning suddenly to the trapper, as if he 
 meant to make him responsible for the reappear- 
 ance of Obed. 
 
 “ Can 1 tell my brother the number of the 
 stars ? The ways of a great medicine are not like 
 the ways of other men.” 
 
 “ Listen to me, gray -head, and count my 
 words,” continued the other, bending on his rude 
 saddle-bow like some chevalier of a more civilized 
 race, and speaking in the haughty tones of ab- 
 solute power ; “ the Daheotahs have not chosen a 
 woman for their chief. When Mahtoree feels the 
 power of a great medicine, he will tremble ; until 
 then he will look with his own eyes, without bor- 
 rowing sight from a pale-face. If your conjurer 
 is not with his friends in the morning, my young 
 men shall look for him. Your ears are open. 
 Enough.” 
 
 The trapper was not sorry to find that so long 
 a respite was granted. He had before found 
 reason to believe that the Teton partisan was 
 one of those bold spirits who overstep the limits 
 which use and education fix to the opinions of 
 man in every state of society, and he now saw 
 plainly that he must adopt some artifice to de- 
 ceive him, different from that which had succeed- 
 ed so well with his followers. The sudden ap- 
 pearance of the rock, however, which hove up, a 
 bleak and ragged mass, out of the darkness ahead, 
 put an end for the present to the discourse, Mah- 
 toree giving all his thoughts to the execution of 
 his designs on the rest of the squatter’s movables. 
 A murmur ran through the band, as each dark 
 warrior caught a glimpse of the desired haven, 
 after which the nicest ear might have listened in 
 vain to catch a sound louder than the rustling of 
 feet among the tall grass of the prairie. 
 
 But the vigilance of Esther was not easily de- 
 ceived. She had long listened anxiously to the 
 suspicious sounds which approached the rock 
 across the naked waste, nor had the sulden out- 
 cry been unheard by the unwearied sentinels of 
 the rock. The savages, who had dismounted *1 
 some little distance, had not time to draw around 
 
112 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 the base of the hill in their customary silent and 
 insidious manner, before the voice of the Amazon 
 was raised, demanding — 
 
 “ Who is beneath ? Answer for your lives ! 
 Siouxes or devils, I fear ye not ! ” 
 
 No answer was given to this challenge, every 
 warrior halting where he stood, confident that his 
 dusky form was blended with the shadows of the 
 plain. It was at this moment that the trapper 
 determined to escape. He had been left, with the 
 rest of his friends, under the surveillance of 
 those who were assigned to the duty of watching 
 the horses, and, as they all continued mounted, 
 the moment appeared favorable to his project. 
 The attention of the guards was drawn to the 
 rock, and a heavy cloud, driving above them at 
 that instant, obscured even the feeble light which 
 fell from the stars. Leaning on the neck of his 
 horse, the old man muttered : 
 
 “ Where is my pup ? Where is it — Hector — 
 where is it, dog ? ” 
 
 The hound caught the well-known sounds, 
 and answered by a whine of friendship, which 
 threatened to break out into one of his piercing 
 howls. The trapper was in the act of raising 
 himself from this successful exploit, when he felt 
 the hand of Weucha grasping his throat, as if 
 determined to suppress his voice by the very 
 unequivocal process of strangulation. Profiting 
 by the circumstance, he raised another low 
 sound, as in the natural effort of breathing, which 
 drew a second responsive cry from the faithful 
 hound. Weucha instantly abandoned his hold 
 bf the master in order to wreak his vengeance on 
 the dog. But the voice of Esther was again 
 heard, and every other design was abandoned in 
 order to listen. 
 
 “ Ay, whine and deform your throats as you 
 may, ye imps of darkness,” she said, with a 
 cracked but scornful laugh ; “ I know ye ; tarry, 
 and ye shall have light for your misdeeds. — Put 
 in the coal, Phoebe ; put in the coal ; your father 
 and the boys shall see that they are wanted at 
 home, to welcome their guests.” 
 
 As she spoke, a strong light, like that of a 
 brilliant star, was seen on the very pinnacle of 
 the rock ; then followed a forked flame, which 
 curled for a moment amid the windings of an 
 enormous pile of brush, and, flashing upward in 
 a united sheet, it wavered to and fro, in the pass- 
 ing air, shedding a bright glare on every object 
 within its influence. A taunting laugh was heard 
 from the height, in which the voices of all ages 
 mingled, as though they triumphed at having so 
 successfully exposed the treacherous intentions 
 if the Tetons. 
 
 The trapper looked about him to ascertain in 
 what situations he might find his friends. True 
 to the signals, Middleton and Paul had drawn a 
 little apart, and now stood ready, by every ap- 
 pearance, to commence their flight at the third 
 repetition of the cry. Hector had escaped his 
 savage pursuer, and was again crouching at the 
 heels of his master’s horse. But the broad cir- 
 cle of light was gradually increasing in extent 
 and power, and the old man, whose eye and judg- 
 ment so rarely failed him, patiently awaited a 
 more propitious moment for his enterprise. 
 
 “Now, Ishmael, my man, if sight and handar’ 
 true as ever, noAv is the time to work upon these 
 red-skins, who claim to own all your property, 
 even to your wife and children ! Now, my good 
 man, prove both breed and character!” 
 
 A distant shout was heard in the direction of 
 the approaching party of the squatter, assuring 
 the female garrison that succor was not far dis- 
 tant. Esther answered to the grateful sounds by 
 a cracked cry of her own, lifting her form, in the 
 first burst of exultation, above the rock in a man- 
 ner to be visible to all below. Not content with 
 this dangerous exposure of her person, she was 
 in the act of tossing her arms in triumph, when 
 the dark figure of Mahtoree shot into the light 
 and pinioned them to her side. The forms of 
 three other warriors glided across the top of the 
 rock, looking like naked demons flitting among 
 the clouds. The air was filled withthe brands of 
 the beacon, and a heavy darkness succeeded, not 
 unlike that of the appalling instant when the last 
 rays of the sun are excluded by the intervening 
 mass of the moon. A yell of triumph burst 
 from the savages in their turn, and was rather 
 accompanied than followed by a long, loud whine 
 from Hector. 
 
 In an instant the old man was between the 
 horses of Middleton and Paul, extending a hand 
 to the bridle of each, in order to check the impa- 
 tience of their riders. 
 
 “ Softly, softly,” he whispered, “ their eyes 
 are as marvellously shut for the minute as if the 
 Lord had stricken them blind ; but their ears are 
 open. Softly, softly ; for fifty rods, at least, we 
 must move no faster than a walk.” 
 
 The five minutes of doubt that succeeded ap 
 peared like an age to all but the trapper. As 
 their sight was gradually restored, it seemed to 
 each that the momentary gloom which followed 
 the extinction of the beacon was to be replaced 
 by as broad a light as that of noonday. Grad- 
 ually the old man, however, suffered the animals 
 to quicken their steps, until they had gained the 
 centre of one of the prairie-bottoms. Then, 
 
CAPTAIN MIDDLETON AND THE FUGITIVES. 
 
 113 
 
 .aughing in his quiet manner, he released the 
 reins, and said : 
 
 “ Now let them give play to their legs ; but 
 keep on the old fog to deaden the sounds.” 
 
 It is needless to say how cheerfully he was 
 obeyed. In a few more minutes they ascended 
 and crossed a swell of the land, after which the 
 flight was continued at the top of their horses’ 
 speed, keeping the indicated star in view, as the 
 laboring bark steers for the light which points 
 the way to a haven and security. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 “ The clouds and sunbeams o’er his eye, 
 
 That once their shades and glories threw, 
 
 Have left, in yonder silent sky, 
 
 No vestige where they flew.” 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 A stillness, as deep as that which marked 
 the gloomy wastes in their front, was observed 
 by the fugitives to distinguish the spot they had 
 just abandoned. Even the trapper lent his prac- 
 tised faculties, in vain, to detect any of the well- 
 known signs which might establish the important 
 fact that hostilities had actually commenced be- 
 tween the parties of Mahtoree and Ishmael ; but 
 their horses carried them out of the reach of 
 sounds, without the occurrence of the smallest 
 evidence of the sort. The old man, from time to 
 time, muttered his discontent, but manifested the 
 uneasiness he actually entertained in no other 
 manner, unless it might be in exhibiting a grow- 
 ing anxiety to urge the animals to increase their 
 speed. He pointed out, in passing, the deserted 
 swale where the family of the squatter had en- 
 camped, the night they were introduced to the 
 reader, and afterward he maintained an ominous 
 silence — ominous, because his companions had 
 already seen enough of his character to be con- 
 vinced that the circumstances must be critical in- 
 deed which possessed the power to disturb the 
 w ell-regulated tranquillity of the old man’s mind. 
 
 “ Have we not done enough ? ” Middleton 
 demanded, in tenderness to the inability of Inez 
 and Ellen to endure so much fatigue, at the end 
 of some hours ; “ we have ridden hard, and have 
 crossed a wide tract of plain. It is time to seek 
 a place of rest.” 
 
 “ You must seek it, then, in heaven, if you find 
 yourselves unequal to a longer march,” murmured 
 the old trapper. “ Had the Tetons and the 
 squatter come to blows, as any one might see in 
 the natur’ of things they were bound to do, there 
 8 
 
 would be time to look about us, and to calculate 
 not only the chances but the comforts of the 
 journey ; but, as the case actually is, I should 
 consider it certain death, or endless captivity, to 
 trust our eyes with sleep until our heads are fairly 
 hid in some uncommon cover.” 
 
 “ I know not,” returned the youth, who re- 
 flected more on the sufferings of the fragile being 
 he supported, than on the experience of his com- 
 panion— “ I know not ; we have ridden leagues, 
 and I can see no extraordinary signs of danger : 
 if you fear for yourself, my good friend, believe 
 me you are wrong, for — ” 
 
 “ Your gran’ther, were he living and here,” 
 interrupted the old man, stretching forth a hand, 
 and laying a finger impressively on the arm of 
 Middleton, “ would have spared those words. He 
 had some reason to think that, in the prime of 
 my days, when my eye was quicker than the 
 hawk’s, and my limbs were as active as the legs 
 of the fallow-deer, I never clung too eagerly and 
 fondly to life : then why should I now feel such a 
 childish affection for a thing that I know to be 
 vain, and the companion of pain and sorrow ? 
 Let the Tetons do their worst ; they will not find 
 a miserable and worn-out trapper the loudest in 
 his complaints or his prayers.” 
 
 “Pardon me, my worthy, my inestimable 
 friend,” exclaimed the repentant young man, 
 warmly grasping the hand which the other was in 
 the act of withdrawing; “I knew not what I 
 said — or rather I thought only of those whose 
 tenderness we are most bound to consider.” 
 
 “ Enough. It’s natur’, and it is right. There- 
 in your gran’ther would have done the very same. 
 Ah’s me ! what a number of seasons, hot and 
 cold, wet and dry, have rolled over my poor head, 
 since the time we worried it out together, among 
 the red Hurons of the lakes, back in those rug- 
 ged mountains of Old York ! and many a noble 
 buck has since that day fallen by my hand ; ay, 
 and many a thieving Mingo too ! Tell me, lad, 
 did the general, for general I know he got to be, 
 did he ever tell you of the deer we took, that 
 night the outliers of the accursed tribe drove us 
 to the caves on the island, and how we feasted 
 and drunk in security ? ” 
 
 “ I have often heard him mention the smallest 
 circumstance of the night you mean ; but — ” 
 
 “ And the singer ; and his open throat ; and 
 his shoutings in the fights ! ” continued the old 
 man, laughing joyously at the strength of his own 
 recollections. 
 
 “ All — all — he forgot nothing, even to the 
 most trifling incident. Do you not — ” 
 
 “ What ! did he tell you of the imp behind tho 
 
114 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 log — and of the miserable devil who went over 
 the fall — or of the wretch in the tree ? ” 
 
 “ Of each and all, with every thing that con- 
 cerned them.* I should think — ” 
 
 “ Ay,” continued the old man, in a voice which 
 betrayed how powerfully his own faculties re- 
 tained the impression of the spectacle, “ I have 
 been a dweller in forests and in the wilderness for 
 threescore and ten years, and if any can pretend 
 to know the world, or to have seen scary sights, 
 it is myself! But never, before nor since, have I 
 seen human man in such a state of mortal despair 
 as that very savage ; and yet he scorned to speak, 
 or to cry out, or to own his forlorn condition! 
 It is their gift, and nobly did he maintain it ! ” 
 
 “ Harkee, old trapper,” interrupted Paul, who, 
 content with the knowledge that his waist was 
 grasped by one of the arms of Ellen, had hither- 
 to ridden in unusual silence ; “ my eyes are as 
 true and as delicate as a humming-bird’s in the 
 day, but they are nothing worth boasting of by 
 starlight. Is that a sick buffalo crawling along 
 in the bottom there, or is it one of the stray cat- 
 tle of the savages ? ” 
 
 The whole party drew up, in order to examine 
 the object which Paul had pointed out. During 
 most of the time they had ridden in the little 
 vales in order to seek the protection of the 
 shadows, but just at that moment they bad 
 ascended a roll of the prairie in order to cross in- 
 to the very bottom where this unknown animal 
 was now seen. 
 
 “Let us descend,” said Middleton; “be it 
 beast or man, we are too strong to have any cause 
 of fear.” 
 
 “Now, if the thing was not morally impos- 
 sible,” cried the trapper, who the reader must 
 have already discovered was not always exact in 
 the use of qualifying words, “if the thing was 
 not morally impossible, I should say that was the 
 man who journeys in search of reptiles and in- 
 sects — our fellow-traveller, the doctor.” 
 
 “ Why impossible ? did you not direct him to 
 pursue this course, in order to rejoin us ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, but I did not tell him to make an ass 
 outdo the speed of a horse. You are right — you 
 are right,” said the trapper, interrupting himself, 
 as, by gradually lessening the distance between 
 them, his eyes assured him it was Obed and Asi- 
 ans whom he saw — “ you are right, as certainly as 
 the thing is a miracle. Lord, what a thing is fear ! 
 — How now, friend ; you have been industrious to 
 
 * They who have read the preceding books, in which the 
 trapper appears as a hunter and a scout, will readily under- 
 stand the allusions. 
 
 have got so far ahead in so short a time. I mar- 
 vel at the speed of the ass ! ” 
 
 “ Asinus is overcome,” returned the naturalist, 
 mournfully. “ The animal has certainly not been 
 idle since we separated, but he declines all my 
 admonitions and invitations to proceed. I hope 
 there is no instant fear from the savages ? ” 
 
 “I cannot say that — I cannot say that; mat- 
 ters are not as they should be atween the squat- 
 ter and the Tetons, nor will I answer as yet for 
 the safety of any scalp among us. The beast is 
 broken down ; you have urged him beyond his 
 natural gifts, and he is like a worried hound. 
 There is pity and discretion in all things, even 
 though a man be riding for his life.” 
 
 “ You indicated the star,” returned the doctor, 
 “ and I deemed it expedient to use great diligence 
 in pursuing the direction.” 
 
 “ Did you expect to reach it by such haste ? 
 Go, go ; you talk boldly of the creatur’s of the 
 Lord, though I plainly see you are but a child in 
 matters that concern their gifts and instincts. 
 What a plight would you now be in, if there was 
 need for a long and a quick push with our 
 heels ! ” 
 
 “The fault exists in the formation of the 
 quadruped,” said Obed, whose placid temper be- 
 gan to revolt under so many scandalous imputa- 
 tions. “ Had there been rotary levers for two of 
 the members, a moiety of the fatigue would have 
 been saved, for one item — ” 
 
 “ That, for your moiety’s anti rotaries and 
 items, man ; a jaded ass is a jaded ass, and he 
 who denies it is but a brother of the beast itself. 
 Now, captain, are we driven to choose one of two 
 evils. We must either abandon this man, who 
 has been too much with us through good and bad 
 to be easily cast away, or we must seek a cover to 
 let the animal rest.” 
 
 “ Venerable Venator ! ” exclaimed the alarmed 
 Obed, “ I conjure you by all the secret sympa- 
 thies of our common nature, by all the hidden — ” 
 “ Ah, fear has brought him to talk a little ra 
 tional sense ! It is not natur’, truly, to abandon a 
 brother in distress, and the Lord he knows that 1 
 have never yet done the shameful deed. You are 
 right, friend, you are right ; we must all be hid- 
 den, and that speedily. But what to do with the 
 ass ! Friend doctor, do you truly value the life 
 of the creatur’ ? ” 
 
 “ He is an ancient and faithful servant,” re- 
 turned the disconsolate Obed, “ and with pain 
 should I see him come to any harm. Fetter his 
 lower limbs, and leave him to repose in this bed 
 of herbage. I will engage he shall be found 
 where he is left, in the morning.” 
 
OBED’S REAPPEARANCE. 
 
 115 
 
 ‘ And the Siouxes ? What would become of 
 the beast should any of the red imps catch a peep 
 at his ears, growing up out of the grass like two 
 mullein - tops ? ” cried the bee -hunter. “They 
 would stick him as full of arrows as a woman’s 
 cushion is full of pins, and then believe they had 
 done the job for the father of all rabbits ! My 
 word for it, but they would find out their blunder 
 at the first mouthful ! ” 
 
 Middleton, who began to grow impatient under 
 the protracted discussion, interposed, and, as a 
 good deal of deference was paid to his rank, he 
 quickly prevailed in his efforts to effect a sort of 
 compromise. The humble Asinus, too meek and 
 too weary to make any resistance, was soon 
 tethered and deposited in his bed of dying grass, 
 where he was left, with a perfect confidence on the 
 part of his master of finding him again, at the 
 expiration of a few hours. The old man strong- 
 ly remonstrated against this arrangement, and 
 more than once hinted that the knife was much 
 more certain than the tether ; but the petitions 
 of Obed, aided perhaps by the secret reluctance 
 of the trapper to destroy the beast, were the 
 means of saving its fife. When Asinus was thus 
 secured, and as his master believed secreted, the 
 whole party proceeded to find some place where 
 they might rest themselves, during the time re- 
 quired for the repose of the animal. 
 
 According to the calculations of the trapper, 
 they had ridden twenty miles since the commence- 
 ment of their flight. The delicate frame of Inez 
 began to droop under the excessive fatigue, nor 
 was the more robust but still feminine person of 
 Ellen insensible to the extraordinary effort she 
 had made. Middleton himself was not sorry to 
 repose, nor did the vigorous and high-spirited 
 Paul hesitate to confess that he should be all the 
 better for a little rest. The old man alone seemed 
 indifferent to the usual claims of Nature. Al- 
 though but little accustomed to the unusual de- 
 scription of exercise he had just been taking, he 
 appeared to bid defiance to all the usual attacks 
 of human infirmities. Though evidently so near 
 its dissolution, his attenuated frame still stood 
 like the shaft of seasoned oak, dry, naked, and 
 tempest-riven, but unbending and apparently in- 
 durated to the consistency of stone. On the pres- 
 ent occasion he conducted the search for a rest- 
 ing-place, which was immediately commencevl, 
 with all the energy of youth, tempered by the dis- 
 cretion and experience of his great age. 
 
 The bed of grass in which the doctor had 
 been met, and in which his ass had just been 
 left, was followed a little distance until it was found 
 that the rolling swells of the prairie were melt- 
 
 ing away into one vast level plain, that was cov 
 ered, for miles on miles, with the same species of 
 herbage. 
 
 “ Ah, this may do, this may do,” said the old 
 man, when they arrived on the borders of this 
 sea of withered grass. “ I know the spot, and 
 often have I lain in its secret holes, for days at a 
 time, while the savages have been hunting the 
 buffaloes on the open ground. We must enter it 
 with great care, for a broad trail might be seen, 
 and Indian curiosity is a dangerous neighbor.” 
 
 Leading the way himself, he selected a spot 
 where the tall, coarse herbage stood most erect, 
 growing not unlike a bed of reeds, both in height 
 and density. Here he entered, singly, directing 
 the others to follow as nearly as possible in his 
 own footsteps. When they had passed for some 
 hundred or two feet into the wilderness of weeds, 
 he gave his directions to Paul and Middleton, who 
 continued a direct route deeper into the place, 
 w r hile he dismounted and returned on his tracks 
 to the margin of the meadow. Here he passed 
 many minutes in replacing the trodden grass, and 
 in effacing, as far as possible, every evidence of 
 their passage. 
 
 In the mean time the rest of the party con- 
 tinued their progress, not without toil, and con- 
 sequently at a very moderate gait, until they had 
 penetrated a mile into the place. Here they 
 found a spot suited to their circumstances, and, 
 dismounting, they began to make their disposi- 
 tions to pass the remainder of the night. By this 
 time the trapper had rejoined the party, and 
 again resumed the direction of their proceed- 
 ings. 
 
 The weeds and grass were soon plucked and 
 cut from an area of sufficient extent, and a bed 
 for Inez and Ellen was speedily made, a little 
 apart, which for sweetness and ease might have 
 rivalled one of down. The exhausted females, 
 after receiving some light refreshments from the 
 provident stores of Paul and the old man, now 
 sought their repose, leaving their more stout com- 
 panions at liberty to provide for their own neces 
 sities. Middleton and Paul were not long in fol- 
 lowing the example of their betrothed, leaving the 
 trapper and the naturalist still seated around a 
 savory dish of bison’s-meat, which had been 
 cooked at a previous halt, and which was, as usual, 
 eaten cold. 
 
 A certain lingering sensation, which had so 
 long been uppermost in the mind of Obed, tempo- 
 rarily banished sleep ; and as for the old man, hia 
 wants were rendered, by habit and necessity, as 
 seemingly subject to his will as if they altogether 
 depended on the pleasure of the moment. Like 
 
116 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 hia companion, he chose, therefore, to watch in- 
 stead of sleeping. 
 
 “ If the children of ease and security knew the 
 hardships and dangers the students of Nature 
 encounter in their behalf,” said Obed, after a mo- 
 ment of silence when Middleton took his leave for 
 the night, “ pillars of silver and statues of brass 
 would be reared as the everlasting monuments of 
 their glory ! ” 
 
 “ I know not — I know not,” returned his com- 
 panion ; “ silver is far from plenty, at least in the 
 wilderness, and your brazen idols are forbidden in 
 the commandments of the Lord.” 
 
 “ Such, indeed, was the opinion of the great law- 
 giver of the Jews, but the Egyptians and the Chal- 
 deans, the Greeks and the Romans, were wont 
 to manifest their gratitude in these types of the 
 human form. Indeed, many of the illustrious 
 masters of antiquity have, by the aid of science 
 and skill, even outdone the works of Nature, and 
 exhibited a beauty and perfection in the human 
 form that are difficult to be found in the rarest liv- 
 ing specimens of any of the species ; genus homo.” 
 
 “ Can your idols walk or speak, or have they the 
 glorious gift of reason ? ” demanded the trapper 
 with some indignation in his voice . “ Though but 
 little given to run into the noise and chatter of the 
 settlements, yet have I been into the towns in my 
 day to barter the peltry for lead and powder, and 
 often have I seen your waxen dolls with their taw- 
 dry clothes and glass eyes — ” 
 
 “Waxen dolls!” interrupted Obed; “it is 
 profanation in the view of the arts to liken the 
 miserable handiwork of the dealers in wax to the 
 I.ure models of antiquity !” 
 
 “ It is profanation in the eyes of the Lord,” 
 retorted the old man, “ to liken the works of his 
 creatures to the power of his own hand.” 
 
 “ Venerable Venator,” resumed the naturalist, 
 clearing his throat like one who was much in ear- 
 nest, “ let us discuss understandingly and in amity. 
 You speak of the dross of ignorance, whereas my 
 memory dwells on those precious jewels which it 
 was my happy fortune formerly to witness among 
 the treasured glories of the Old World.” 
 
 “ Old World ! ” retorted the trapper, “ that is 
 the miserable cry of all the half-starved miscreants 
 that have come into this blessed land since the days 
 of my boyhood ! They tell you of the Old World, 
 as if the Lord had not the power and the will to 
 create the universe in a day ; or as if he had not 
 bestowed his gifts with an equal hand, though not 
 with an equal mind or equal wisdom have they 
 been received and used. Were they to say a worn- 
 out , and an abused, and a sacrilegious world, they 
 might not be so far from the truth ! ” 
 
 Dr. Battius, who found it quite as arduous 
 task to maintain any of his favorite positions with 
 so irregular an antagonist, as he would have found 
 it difficult to keep his feet within the hug of a West- 
 ern wrestler, hemmed aloud, and profited by the 
 new opening the trapper had made to shift the 
 grounds of the discussion : 
 
 “By Old and New World, my excellent asso- 
 ciate, ” he said, “ it is not to be understood that 
 the hills and the valleys, the rocks and the rivers 
 of our own moiety of the earth do not, physically 
 speaking, bear a date as ancient as the spot on 
 which the bricks of Babylon are found. It merely 
 signifies that its moral existence is not coequal 
 with its physical or geological formation.” 
 
 “ Anan ! ” said the old man, looking up inquir- 
 ingly, into the face of the philosopher. 
 
 “ Merely that it has not been so long known in 
 morals as the other countries of Christendom.” 
 
 “ So much the better, so much the better. I 
 am no great admirator of your old morals, as you 
 call them ; for I have ever found, and I have lived 
 long as it were in the very heart of Natur’, that 
 your old morals are none of the best. Mankind 
 twist and turn the rules of the Lord, to suit their 
 own wickedness, when their devilish cunning has 
 had too much time to trifle with his commands.” 
 
 “ Nay, venerable hunter, still am I not compre- 
 hended. By morals I do not mean the limited and 
 literal signification of the term, such as is con- 
 veyed in its synonyme, morality, but the practices 
 of men, as connected with their daily intercourse, 
 their institutions, and their laws.” 
 
 “ And such I call barefaced and downright 
 wantonness and waste,” interrupted his sturdy 
 disputant. 
 
 “Well, be it so,” returned the doctor, aban- 
 doning the explanation in despair. “Perhaps I 
 have conceded too much,” he then instantly added, 
 fancying that he still saw the glimmerings of an 
 argument through another chink in the discourse. 
 “ perhaps I have conceded too much in saying 
 that this hemisphere is literally as old in its for- 
 mation as that which embraces the venerable 
 quarters of Europe, Asia, and Africa.” 
 
 “ It is easy to say a pine is not so tall as an 
 alder, but it would be hard to prove. Can you 
 give a reason for such a belief? ” 
 
 “The reasons are numerous and powerful,” 
 returned the doctor, delighted by this encouraging 
 opening. “ Look into the plains of Egypt and 
 Arabia; their sandy deserts teem with the monu- 
 ments of their antiquity : and then we have also 
 recorded documents of their glory, doubling the 
 proofs of their former greatness, now that they lie 
 stripped of their fertility, while we look in vain for 
 
AN INTERESTING DISCUSSION. 
 
 117 
 
 similar evidences that man has ever reached the 
 6ummit of civilization on this continent, or search, 
 without our reward, for the path by which he has 
 made the downward journey to his present condi- 
 tion of second childhood.” 
 
 “ And what see you in all this ? ” demanded the 
 trapper, who, though a little confused by the 
 terms of his companion, seized the thread of his 
 ideas. 
 
 “ A demonstration of my problem, that Nature 
 did not make so vast a region to lie an uninhabited 
 waste so many ages. This is merely the moral 
 view of the subject ; as to the more exact and 
 geological — ” 
 
 “ Your morals are exact enough for me,” re- 
 turned the old man ; “ for I think I see in them 
 the very pride of folly. I am but little gifted in the 
 fables of what you call the Old World, seeing that 
 my time has been mainly passed looking Natur’ 
 steadily in the face, and in reasoning on what I’ve 
 seen rather than on what I’ve heard in traditions. 
 But I have never shut my ears to the words of the 
 good book ; and many is the long winter evening 
 that I have passed in the wigwams of the Dela- 
 wares, listening to the good Moravians, as they 
 dealt forth the history and doctrines of the elder 
 times to the people of the Lenape ! It was pleas- 
 ant to hearken to such wisdom after a weary 
 hunt ! Right pleasant did I find it, and often have 
 I talked the matter over with the Great Serpent 
 of the Delawares, in the more peaceful hours of 
 our outlyings, whether it might be on the trail of 
 a war-party of the Mingoes, or on the watch for a 
 York deer. I remember to have heard it, then 
 and there, said, that the Blessed Land was once 
 fertile as the bottoms of the Mississippi, and 
 groaning with its stores of grain and fruits ; but 
 that the judgment has since fallen upon it, and 
 that it is now more remarkable for its barrenness 
 than any qualities to boast of.” 
 
 “ It is true ; but Egypt, nay much of Africa, 
 furnishes still more striking proofs of this exhaus- 
 tion of Nature.” 
 
 “ Tell me,” interrupted the old man ; “ is it a 
 certain truth that buildings are still standing in 
 that land of Pharaoh, which may be likened, in 
 their stature, to the hills of the ’arth ? ” 
 
 “ It is as true as that Nature never refuses to 
 bestow her incisores on the animals , mammalia ; 
 genus, homo — ” 
 
 “It is very marvellous ; and it proves how 
 great He must be, when his miserable creatur’s can 
 accomplish such wonders ! Many men must have 
 been needed to finish such an edifice ; ay, and 
 men gifted with strength and skill too ! Does 
 tne land abound with such a race to this hour ! ” 
 
 “ Far from it. Most of the country is a desert, 
 and but for a mighty river all would be so.” 
 
 “ Yes, rivers are rare gifts to such as till the 
 ground ; as any one may see who journeys far 
 atween the Rocky Mountains and the Mississippi. 
 But how do you account for these changes on the 
 face of the ’arth itself, and for this downfall of 
 nations, you men of the schools ? ” 
 
 “It is to be ascribed to moral cau — ” 
 
 “ You’re right — it is their morals; their wick- 
 edness and their pride, and chiefly their was to, 
 that has done it all Now, listen to what the 
 experience of an old man teaches him. I have 
 lived long, as these gray hairs and wrinkled hands 
 will show, even though my tongue should fail in 
 the wisdom of my years. And I have seen much 
 of the folly of man ; for his natur’ is the same, 
 be he born in the wilderness, or be he bom in the 
 towns. To my weak judgment it hath ever 
 seemed that his gifts are not equal to his wishes. 
 That he would mount into the heavens, with all 
 his deformities about him, if he only knew the 
 road, no one will gainsay, that witnesses his bit- 
 ter strivings upon ’arth. If his power is not equal 
 to his will, it is because the wisdom of the Lord 
 hath set bounds to his evil workings.” 
 
 “ It is much too certain that certain facts will 
 warrant a theory, which teaches the natural de- 
 pravity of the genus ; but, if science could be 
 fairly brought to bear on a whole species at once, 
 for instance, education might eradicate the evil 
 principle.” 
 
 “That, for your education! The time has 
 been when I have thought it possible to make a 
 companion of a beast. Many are the cubs, and 
 many are the speckled fawns, that I have reared 
 with these old hands, until I have even fancied 
 them rational and altered beings — but what did 
 it amount to ? the bear would bite, and the deer 
 would run, notwithstanding my wicked conceit in 
 fancying that I could change a temper that the 
 Lord himself had seen fit to bestow. Now, if man 
 is so blinded in his folly as to go on, ages on ages, 
 doing harm chiefly to himself, there is the same 
 reason to think that he has wrought his evil here 
 as in the countries you call so old. Look about 
 you, man ; where are the multitudes that once peo- 
 pled these prairies ; the kings and the palaces ; 
 the riches and the mightinesses of this desert ? ” 
 “ Where are the monuments that would prove 
 the truth of so vague a theory ? ” 
 
 “ I know not what you call a monument.” 
 
 “ The works of man ! The glories of Thebes 
 and Balbec— columns, catacombs, and pyramids — 
 standing amid the sands of the East, like wrecks 
 on a rocky shore, to testify to the storms of ages ! ” 
 
118 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 “They are gone. Time has lasted too long 
 for them. For why? Time was made by the 
 Lord, and they were made by man. This very 
 spot of reeds and grass, on which you now sit, 
 may once have been the garden of some mighty 
 king. It is the fate of all things to ripen, and 
 then to decay. The tree blossoms, and bears its 
 fruit, which falls, rots, withers, and even the seed 
 is lost ! Go count the rings of the oak and of the 
 sycamore ; they lie in circles, one about another, 
 until the eye is blinded in striving to make out 
 their numbers ; and yet a full change of the sea- 
 sons comes round while the stem is winding one 
 of these little lines about itself, like the buffalo 
 changing his coat, or the buck his horns; and 
 what does it all amount to ? There does the 
 tioble tree fill its place in the forest, loftier, and 
 grander, and richer, and more difficult to imitate, 
 than any of your pitiful pillars, for a thousand 
 years, until the time which the Lord hath given it 
 is full. Then come the winds, that you cannot 
 see, to rive its bark ; and the waters from the 
 heavens, to soften its pores ; and the rot, which 
 all can feel and none can understand, to humble 
 its pride and bring it to the ground. From that 
 moment its beauty begins to perish. It lies an- 
 other hundred years, a mouldering log, and then 
 a mound of moss and ’arth, a sad effigy of a hu- 
 man grave. This is one of your genuine monu- 
 ments, though made by a very different power 
 than such as belongs to your chiselling masonry ! 
 and, after all, the cunningest scout of the whole 
 Daheotah nation might pass his life in searching 
 for the spot where it fell, and be no wiser when 
 his eyes grew dim, than when they wefie first 
 opened. As if that was not enough to convince 
 man of his ignorance, and, as though it were put 
 there in mockery of his conceit, a pine shoots up 
 from the roots of the oak, just as barrenness comes 
 after fertility, or as these wastes have been spread, 
 where a garden may have been created. Tell me 
 not of your worlds that are old ! it is blasphemous 
 to set bounds and seasons, in this manner, to the 
 works of the Almighty, like a woman counting the 
 ftges of her young.” 
 
 “Friend hunter, or trapper,” returned the 
 naturalist, clearing his throat in some intellectual 
 confusion at the vigorous attack of his compan- 
 ion, “ your deductions, if admitted by the world, 
 would sadly circumscribe the efforts of reason, 
 and much abridge the boundaries of knowledge.” 
 
 “So much the better — so much the better; 
 for I have always found that a conceited man 
 never knows content. All things prove it. Why 
 have we not the wings of the pigeon, the eyes of 
 the eagle, and the legs of the moose if it had 
 
 been intended that man should be equal to all hi« 
 wishes ? ” 
 
 “ There are certain physical defects, venerable 
 trapper, in which I am always ready to admit great 
 and happy alterations might be suggested. For 
 example, in my own order of Phalangacru — " 
 
 “ Cruel enough would be the order that should 
 come from miserable hands like thine ! A touch 
 from such a finger would destroy the mocking 
 deformity of a monkey ! Go, go ; human folly is 
 not needed to fill up the great design of God. 
 There is no stature, no beauty, no proportions, nor 
 any colors in which man himself can well be fash- 
 ioned, that is not already done to his hands.” 
 
 “ That is touching another great and much- 
 disputed question,” exclaimed the doctor, who 
 seized upon every distinct idea that the ardent 
 and somewhat dogmatic old man left exposed to 
 his mental grasp, with the vain hope of inducing 
 a logical discussion, in which he might bring his 
 battery of syllogisms to annihilate the unscien- 
 tific defences of his antagonist. 
 
 It is, however, unnecessary to our narrative 
 to relate the erratic discourse that ensued. The 
 old man eluded the annihilating blows of his ad- 
 versary, as the light-armed soldier is wont to es- 
 cape the efforts of the more regular warrior, even 
 while he annoys him most ; and an hour passed 
 away without bringing any of the numerous sub- 
 jects, on which they touched, to a satisfactory 
 conclusion. The arguments acted, however, on 
 the nervous system of the doctor like so many 
 soothing soporifics ; and, by the time his aged 
 companion was disposed to lay his head on his 
 pack, Obed, refreshed by his recent mental 
 joust, was in a condition to seek his natural rest, 
 without enduring the torments of the incubus, in 
 the shapes of Teton warriors and bloody toma- 
 hawks. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 “ Save you, sir.” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The sleep of the fugitives lasted for several 
 hours. The trapper was the first to shake off its 
 influence, as he had been the last to court its re- 
 freshment. Rising, just as the gray light of day 
 began to brighten that portion of the studded 
 vault which rested on the eastern margin of the 
 plain, he summoned his companions from their 
 warm lairs, and pointed out the necessity of their 
 being once more on the alert. While Middleton 
 attended to the arrangements necessary to the 
 
FIRE ON THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 119 
 
 comforts of Inez and Ellen, in the long and pain- 
 ful journey which lay before them, the old man 
 and Paul prepared the meal, which the former 
 had advised them to take before they proceeded 
 to horse. These several dispositions were not 
 long in making, and the little group was soon 
 seated about a repast which, though it might want 
 the elegances to which the bride of Middleton 
 had been accustomed, was not deficient in the 
 more important requisites of savor and nutri- 
 ment. 
 
 “ When we get lower into the hunting-grounds 
 of the Pawnees,” said the trapper, laying a mor- 
 sel of delicate venison before Inez, on a little 
 trencher neatly made of horn, and expressly for 
 his own use, “ we shall find the buffaloes fatter 
 and sweeter, the deer in more abundance, and all 
 the gifts of the Lord abounding to satisfy our 
 wants. Perhaps we may even strike a beaver, 
 and get a morsel from his tail * by way of a rare 
 mouthful.” 
 
 “ What course do you mean to pursue, when 
 you have once thrown these bloodhounds from 
 the chase ? ” demanded Middleton. 
 
 “If I might advise,” said Paul, “ it would be 
 to strike a water-course, and get upon its down- 
 ward current as soon as may be. Give me a cot- 
 ton-wood, and I will turn you out a canoe that 
 shall carry us all, the jackass excepted, in perhaps 
 the work of a day and a night. Ellen, here, is a 
 lively girl enough, but then she is no great race- 
 rider ; and it would be far more comfortable to 
 boat six or eight hundred miles, than to go loping 
 along like so many elks measuring the prairies ; 
 besides, water leaves no trail.” 
 
 “ I will not swear to that,” returned the trap- 
 per ; “ I have often thought the eyes of a red- 
 skin would find a trail in air.” 
 
 “ See, Middleton,” exclaimed Inez, in a sud- 
 den burst of youthful pelasure, that caused her for 
 a moment to forget her situation, “ how lovely is 
 that sky ; surely it contains a promise of happier 
 times ! ” 
 
 “ It is glorious ! ” returned her husband. 
 “ Glorious and heavenly is that streak of vivid 
 red, and here is a still brighter crimson ; rarely 
 have I seen a richer rising of the sun.” 
 
 “ Rising of the sun ! ” slowly repeated the old 
 man, lifting his tall person from its seat with a 
 deliberate and abstracted air, while he kept his 
 eye riveted on the changing and certainly beauti- 
 ful tints that were garnishing the vault of heav- 
 en — “ rising of the sun ! I like not such risings 
 
 * Tfce American hunters consider the tail of the beaver 
 the most nourishing of all food. 
 
 of the sun. Ah’s me ! the imps have circumvent- 
 ed us with a vengeance. The prairie is on fire ! " 
 
 “ God in heaven protect us ! ” cried Middle- 
 ton, catching Inez to his bosom, under the instant 
 impression of the imminence of their danger. 
 “ There is no time to lose, old man ; each instant 
 is a day. Let us fly ! ” 
 
 “ Whither ? ” demanded the trapper, motion 
 ing him, with calmness and dignity, to arrest his 
 steps. “ In this wilderness of grass and reeds, 
 you are like a vessel in the broad lakes without 
 a compass. A single step on the wrong course 
 might prove the destruction of us all. It is sel- 
 dom danger is so pressing that there is not time 
 enough for reason to do its work, young officer ; 
 therefore let us wait its biddings.” 
 
 “ For my own part,” said Paul Hover, looking 
 about him with no equivocal expression of con- 
 cern, “ I acknowledge that, should this dry bed 
 of weeds get fairly in a flame, a bee would have 
 to make a flight higher than common to prevent 
 his wings from scorching. Therefore, old trap- 
 per, I agree with the captain, and say mount and 
 run.” 
 
 “Ye are wrong — ye are wrong; man is not a 
 beast to follow the gift of instinct, and to snuff 
 up his knowledge by a taint in the air, or a rum- 
 bling in the sound ; but he must sec and reason, 
 and then conclude. So follow me a little to the 
 left, where there is a rise in the ground, whence 
 we may make our reconnoitrings.” 
 
 The old man waved his hand with authority, 
 and led the way without further parlance to the 
 spot he had indicated, followed by the whole of 
 his alarmed companions. An eye less practised 
 than that of the trapper might have failed in dis- 
 covering the gentle elevation to which he alluded, 
 and which looked on the surface of the meadow 
 like a growth a little taller than common. When 
 they reached the place, however, the stinted grass 
 itself announced the absence of that moisture 
 which had fed the rank weeds of most of the 
 plain, and furnished a clew to the evidence by 
 which he bad judged of the formation of the 
 ground hidden beneath. Here a few minutes 
 were lost in breaking down the tops of the sur- 
 rounding herbage, which, notwithstanding the 
 advantage of their position, rose even above the 
 heads of Middleton and Paul, and in obtaining a 
 lookout that might command a view of the sur- 
 rounding sea of fire. 
 
 The frightful prospect added nothing to the 
 hopes of those who had so fearful a stake in the 
 result. Although the day was beginning to dawn, 
 the vivid colors of the sky continued to deepen, 
 as if the fierce element were bent on an impious 
 
120 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 rivalry of the light of the sun. Bright flashes 
 of flame shot up here and there along the margin 
 of the waste, like the nimble coruscations of the 
 north, but far more angry and threatening in 
 their color and changes. The anxiety on the 
 rigid features of the trapper sensibly deepened, 
 as he leisurely traced these evidences of a confla- 
 gration, which spread in a broad belt about their 
 place of refuge, until he had encircled the whole 
 horizon. 
 
 Shaking his head, as he again turned his face 
 to the point where the danger seemed nighest and 
 most rapidly approaching, the old man said : 
 
 “ Jfow, have we been cheating ourselves with 
 the belief that we had thrown these Tetons from 
 our trail, while here is proof enough that they not 
 only know where we lie, but that they intend to 
 smoke us out, like so many skulking beasts of 
 prey. See ! they have lighted the fire around the 
 whole bottom at the same moment, and we are as 
 completely hemmed in by the devils as an island 
 by its waters.” 
 
 “ Let us mount and ride ! ” cried Middleton ; 
 “ is life not worth a struggle ? ” 
 
 “ Whither would you go ? Is a Teton horse 
 a salamander, that can walk amid fiery flames 
 unhurt, or do you think the Lord will show his 
 might in your behalf, as in the days of old, and 
 carry you harmless through such a furnace as you 
 may see glowing beneath yonder red sky ? There 
 are Siouxes, too, hemming the fire with their 
 arrows and knives on every side of us, or I am 
 no judge of their murderous deviltries.” 
 
 “We will ride into the centre of the whole 
 tribe,” returned the youth, fiercely, “ and put their 
 manhood to the test.” 
 
 “ Ay, it’s well in words, but what would it 
 prove in deeds ? Here is a dealer in bees, who can 
 teach you wisdom in a matter like this.” 
 
 “ Now, for that matter, old trapper,” said Paul, 
 stretching his athletic form like a mastiff con- 
 scious of his strength, “ I am on the side of the 
 captain, and am clearly for a race against the fire, 
 though it line me into a Teton wigwam. Here 
 is Ellen, who will — ” 
 
 “ Of what use, of what use are your stout 
 hearts, when the element of the Lord is to be 
 conquered as well as human men ? Look about 
 you, friends : the wreath of smoke, that is rising 
 from the bottoms, plainly says that there is no 
 outlet from the spot without crossing a belt of fire. 
 Look for yourselves, my men ; look for yourselves • 
 !f you can find a single opening, I will engage to 
 follow.” 
 
 The examination, which his companions so 
 instantly and so intently made, rather served to 
 
 assure them of their desperate situation than tc 
 appease their fears. Huge columns of smoke 
 were rolling up from the plain, and thickening in 
 gloomy masses around the horizon ; the red glow 
 which gleamed upon their enormous folds now 
 lighting their volumes with the glare of the con- 
 flagration, and now flashing to another point, as 
 the flame beneath glided ahead, leaving all behind 
 enveloped in awful darkness, and proclaiming loud- 
 er than words the character of the imminent and 
 approaching danger. 
 
 “ This is terrible ! ” exclaimed Middleton, fold- 
 ing the trembling Inez to his heart — “ at such a 
 time as this, and in such a manner ! ” 
 
 “ The gates of heaven are open to all who 
 truly believe,” murmured the pious devotee in 
 his bosom. 
 
 “ This resignation is maddening ! But we are 
 men, and will make a struggle for our lives ! — 
 How now, ray brave and spirited friend ; shall we 
 yet mount and push across the flames, or shall 
 we stand here, and see those we most love 
 perish in this frightful manner, without an 
 effort ? ” 
 
 “ I am for a swarming- time, and a flight be- 
 fore the hive is too hot to hold us,” said the bee- 
 hunter, to whom it will be at once seen that Mid- 
 dleton addressed himself. — “ Come, old trapper, 
 you must acknowledge this is but a slow way of 
 getting out of danger. If we tarry here much 
 longer, it will be in the fashion that the bees lie 
 around the straw after the hive has been smoked 
 for its honey. You may hear the fire begin to 
 roar already, and I know by experience that, 
 when the flame once gets fairly into the prairie- 
 grass, it is no sloth that can outrun it.” 
 
 “ Think you,” returned the old man, pointing 
 scornfully at the mazes of the dry and matted 
 grass which environed them, “ that mortal feet 
 can outstrip the speed of fire on such a path? 
 If I only knew, now, on which side these miscre- 
 ants lay ! ” 
 
 “ What say you, friend doctor,” cried the be- 
 wildered Paul, turning to the naturalist with that 
 sort of helplessness with which the strong aro 
 often apt to seek aid of the weak when human 
 power is baffled by the hand of a mightier being, 
 “ what say you ? have you no advice to give away 
 in a case of life and death ? ” 
 
 The naturalist stood, tablets in hand, looking 
 at the awful spectacle with as much composure 
 as if the conflagration had been lighted in order 
 to solve the difficulties of some scientific prob- 
 lem. Aroused by the question of his companion, 
 he turned to his equally calm though differently- 
 occupied associate, the trapper, demanding, with 
 
A SIMPLE EXPEDIENT. 
 
 121 
 
 the most provoking insensibility to the urgent 
 nature of their situation : 
 
 “ Venerable hunter, you have often witnessed 
 similar prismatic experiments — ” 
 
 He was rudely interrupted by Paul, who struck 
 the tablets from his hands with a violence that 
 betrayed the utter intellectual confusion which 
 had overset the equanimity of his mind. Before 
 time was allowed for remonstrance, the old man, 
 who had continued during the whole scene like one 
 much at a Joss how to proceed, though also like 
 one who was rather perplexed than alarmed, sud- 
 denly assumed a decided air, as if he no longer 
 doubted on the course it was most advisable to 
 pursue. 
 
 “ It is time to be doing,” he, said, interrupting 
 the controversy that was about to ensue between 
 the naturalist and the bee-hunter ; “ it is time to 
 leave off books and moanings, and to be doing.” 
 
 “You have come to your recollections too 
 late, miserable old man ! ” cried Middleton; “ the 
 flames are within a quarter of a mile of us, and 
 the wind is bringing them down in this quarter 
 with dreadful rapidity.” 
 
 “ Anan ! the flames ! I care but little for the 
 flames. If I only knew how to circumvent the 
 cunning of the Tetons as I know how to cheat 
 the fire of its prey, there would be nothing 
 needed but thanks to the Lord for our deliver- 
 ance. Do you call this a fire ? If you had seen 
 what I have witnessed in the Eastern hills, when 
 mighty mountains were like the furnace of a 
 smith, you would have known what it was to fear 
 the flames, and to be thankful that you were 
 spared. — Come, lads, come ; ’tis time to be doing 
 now, and to cease talking ; for yonder curling 
 flame is truly coming on like a trotting moose. 
 Put hands upon this short and withered grass 
 where we stand, and lay bare the ’arth.” 
 
 “ Would you think to deprive the fire of its 
 victims in this childish manner ? ” exclaimed Mid- 
 dleton. 
 
 A faint but solemn smile passed over the feat- 
 ures of the old man, as he answered : 
 
 “Your gran’ther would have said that, when 
 the enemy was nigh, a soldier could do no better 
 than to obey.” 
 
 The captain felt the reproof, and instantly 
 Degan to imitate the industry of Paul, who was 
 tearing the decayed herbage from the ground in 
 a sort of desperate compliance with the trapper’s 
 direction. Even Ellen lent her hands to the labor, 
 nor was it long before Inez was seen similarly 
 employed, though none among them knew why 
 or wherefore. When life is thought to be the 
 reward of labor, men are wont to be industrious. 
 
 60 
 
 A very few moments sufficed to lay bare a spot 
 of some twenty feet in diameter. Into one edge 
 of this little area the trapper brought the females, 
 directing Middleton and Paul to cover their light 
 and inflammable dresses with the blankets of the 
 party. So soon as this precaution was observed, 
 the old man approached the opposite margin of 
 the grass which still environed them in a tall 
 and dangerous circle, and, selecting a handful of 
 the driest of the herbage, he placed it over the 
 pan of his rifle. The light combustible kindled 
 at the flash. Then he placed the little flame in »» 
 bed of the standing fog, and, withdrawing from 
 the spot to the centre of the ring, he patiently 
 awaited the result. 
 
 The subtile element seized with avidity upon 
 its new fuel, and in a moment forked flames were 
 gliding among the grass, as the tongues of rumi- 
 nating animals are seen rolling among their food, 
 apparently in quest of its sweetest portions. 
 
 “ Now,” said the old man, holding up a finger, 
 and laughing in his peculiarly silent manner, 
 “you shall see fire fight fire! Ah’s me! many 
 is the time I have burnt a smooty path, from 
 wanton laziness to pick my way across a tangled 
 bottom.” 
 
 “ But is this not fatal ? ” cried the amazed 
 Middleton ; “ are you not bringing the enemy 
 nigher to us instead of avoiding it ? ” 
 
 “ Do you scorch so easily ? your gran’ther 
 had a tougher skin. But we shall all live to 
 see — we shall all live to see.” 
 
 The experience of the trapper was in the right. 
 As the fire gained strength and heat, it began to 
 spread on three sides, dying of itself on the 
 fourth, for want of aliment. As it increased, and 
 the sullen roaring announced its power, it cleared 
 every thing before it, leaving the black and smok- 
 ing soil far more naked than if the scythe had 
 swept the place. The situation of the fugitives 
 would have still been hazardous had not the area 
 enlarged as the flame encircled them. But by- 
 advancing to the spot where the trapper had kin- 
 dled the grass, they avoided the heat, and in a 
 very few moments the flames began to recede in 
 every quarter, leaving them enveloped in a cloud 
 of smoke, but perfectly safe from the torrent of 
 fire that was still furiously rolling onward. 
 
 The spectators regarded the simple expedient 
 of the trapper with that species of wonder with 
 which the courtiers of Ferdinand are said to 
 have viewed the manner in which Columbus made 
 his egg stand on its end, though with feelings that 
 were filled with gratitude instead of envy. 
 
 “ Most wonderful ! ” said Middleton, when ha 
 saw the complete success of the means by which 
 
122 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 they had been rescued from a danger that he had 
 conceived to be unavoidable. “ The thought was 
 a gift from Heaven, and the hand that executed 
 it should be immortal ! ” 
 
 “ Old trapper,” cried Paul, thrusting his fin- 
 gers through his shaggy locks, “ I have lined 
 many a loaded bee into his hole, and know some- 
 thing of the nature of the woods, but this is rob- 
 bing a hornet of his sting without touching the 
 insect ! ” 
 
 “ It will do — it will do,” returned the old man, 
 who after the first moment of his success seemed 
 to think no more of the exploit ; “ now get the 
 horses in readiness. Let the flames do their work 
 for a short half-hour, and then we will mount. 
 That time is needed to cool the meadow, for these 
 unshod Teton beasts are as tender on the hoof as 
 a barefooted girl.” 
 
 Middleton and Paul, who considered this un- 
 looked-for escape as a species of resurrection, 
 patiently awaited the time the trapper mentioned 
 with renewed confidence in the infallibility of his 
 judgment. The doctor regained his tablets, a lit- 
 tle the worse from having fallen among the grass 
 which had been subject to the action of the 
 flames, and was consoling himself for this slight 
 misfortune by recording uninterruptedly such dif- 
 ferent vacillations in light and shadow as he 
 chose to consider phenomena. 
 
 In the mean time the veteran, on whose experi- 
 ence they all so implicitly relied for protection, 
 employed himself in reconnoitring objects in the 
 distance, through the openings which the air oc- 
 casionally made in the immense bodies of smoke, 
 that by this time lay in enormous piles on every 
 part of the plain. 
 
 “ Look you here, lads,” the trapper said, after 
 a long and anxious examination, “ your eyes are 
 young and may prove better than my worthless 
 sight — though the time has been when a wise 
 and brave people saw reason to think me quick 
 on a lookout ; but those times are gone, and 
 many a true and tried friend has passed away 
 with then!. Ah’s me ! if I could choose a change 
 in the orderings of Providence — which I cannot, 
 and which it would be blasphemy to attempt, 
 seeing that all things are governed by a wiser 
 mind than belongs to mortal weakness — but if I 
 were to choose a change, it would be to say, that 
 such as they who have lived long together in 
 friendship and kindness, and who have proved 
 their fitness to go in company, by many acts of 
 suffering and daring in each other’s behalf, should 
 he permitted to give up life at such times, as when 
 the death of one leaves the other but little reason 
 to live.” 
 
 “ Is it an Indian that you see ? ” demanded tht 
 impatient Middleton. 
 
 “ Red-skin or white-skin, it is much the same. 
 Friendship and use can tie men as strongly to- 
 gether in the woods as in the towns — ay, and for 
 that matter, stronger. Here are the young war- 
 riors of the prairies. Often do they sort them- 
 selves in pairs, and set apart their lives for deeds 
 of friendship ; and well and truly do they act up to 
 their promises. The death-blow to one is com- 
 monly mortal to the other! I have been a soli- 
 tary man much of my time, if he can be called 
 solitary who has lived for seventy years in the 
 very bosom of Natur’, and where he could at any 
 instant open his heart to God, without having to 
 strip it of the cares and wickednesses of the settle- 
 ments — but, making that allowance, have I been 
 a solitary man ; and yet have I always found that 
 intercourse with my kind was pleasant, and pain- 
 ful to break off, provided that the companion was 
 brave and honest — brave, because a skeary com- 
 rade in the woods,” suffering his eyes inadvertent- 
 ly to rest a moment on the person of the ab- 
 stracted naturalist, “ is apt to make a short path 
 long ; and honest, inasmuch as craftiness is rather 
 an instinct of the brutes, than a gift becoming the 
 reason of a human man.” 
 
 “ But the object that you saw — was it a 
 Sioux ?” 
 
 “What the world of America is coming to, 
 and where the machinations and inventions of its 
 people are to have an end, the Lord, he only 
 knows. I have seen in my day the chief who, in 
 his time, had beheld the first Christian that 
 placed his wicked foot in the regions of York ! 
 How much has the beauty of the wilderness been 
 deformed in two short lives ! My own eyes were 
 first opened on the shores of the Eastern sea, and 
 well do I remember that I tried the virtues of the 
 first rifle lever bore, after such a march, from the 
 door of my father to the forest, as a stripling 
 could make between sun and sun ; and that with- 
 out offence to the rights or prejudices of any man 
 who set himself up to be the owner of the beasts 
 of the field. Natur’ then lay in its glory along 
 the whole coast, giving a narrow stripe, between 
 the woods and the ocean, to the greediness of the 
 settlers. And where am I now ? Had I the wings 
 of an eagle, they would tire before a tenth of the 
 distance, which separates me from that sea, could 
 be passed; and towns and villages, farms and 
 highways, churches and schools, in short, all the 
 inventions and deviltries of man, are spread 
 across the region. I have known the time when 
 a few red-skins, shouting along the borders, could 
 set the provinces in a fever ; and men were to b6 
 
ELUDING THE TETONS. 
 
 123 
 
 armed ; and troops were to be called to aid from 
 a distant land ; and prayers were said, and the 
 women frighted, and few slept in quiet, because 
 the Iroquois were on the war-path, or the accursed 
 Mingo had the tomahawk in hand. How is it 
 now ? The country sends out her ships to for- 
 eign lands to wage their battles; cannon are 
 plentier than the rifle used to be ; and trained sol- 
 diers are never wanting, in tens of thousands, when 
 need calls for their services. Such is the dif- 
 ference atween a province and a State, my men ; 
 and I, miserable and worn out as I seem, have 
 lived to see it all ! ” 
 
 “ That you must have seen many a chopper 
 skimming the cream from the face of the earth, 
 and many a settler getting the very honey of 
 Nature, old trapper,” said Paul, “no reasonable 
 man can, or, for that matter, shall doubt. But 
 here is Ellen getting uneasy about the Siouxes, 
 and now you have opened your mind so freely 
 concerning these matters, if you will just put us 
 on the line of our flight, the swarm will make an- 
 other move.” 
 
 “ Anan ! 
 
 “ I say that Ellen is getting uneasy ; and as the 
 smoke is lifting from the plain, it may be prudent 
 to take another flight.” 
 
 “ The boy is reasonable. I had forgotten we 
 were in the midst of a raging fire, and that 
 Siouxes were round about us like hungry wolves 
 watching a drove of buffaloes. But when memory 
 is at work in my old brain, on times long past, it 
 is apt to overlook the matters of the day. You 
 say right, my children ; it is time to be moving, 
 and now comes the real nicety of our case. It is 
 easy to outwit a furnace, for it is nothing but a 
 raging element ; and it is not always difficult to 
 throw a grizzly bear from his scent, for the creat- 
 ur’ is both enlightened and blinded by his in- 
 stinct ; but to shut the eyes of a waking Teton is 
 a matter of greater judgment, inasmuch as his 
 deviltry is backed by reason.” 
 
 Notwithstanding the old man appeared so con- 
 scious o the difficulty of the undertaking, he set 
 about its achievement with great steadiness and 
 alacrity. After completing the examination, which 
 had been interrupted by the melancholy wander- 
 ings of his mind, he gave the signal to his compan- 
 ions to mount. The horses, which had continued 
 passive and trembling amid the raging of the fire, 
 received their burdens with a satisfaction so very 
 evident as to furnish a favorable augury of their 
 future industry. The trapper invited the doctor 
 to take his own steed, declaring his intention to 
 proceed on foot. 
 
 “Iam but little used to journeying with the 
 
 feet of others,” he added, as a reason for the 
 measure, “ and roy legs are a weary of doing noth- 
 ing. Besides, should we light suddenly on an am- 
 bushment, which is a thing far from impossible, 
 the horse will be in a better condition for a hard 
 run with one man on his back than with two. As 
 for me, what matters it whether roy time is to be 
 a day shorter or a day longer ? Let the Tetons 
 take my scalp, if it be God’s pleasure : they will 
 find it covered with gray hairs ; and it is beyond 
 the craft of man to cheat me of the knowledge and 
 experience by which they have been whitened.” 
 
 As no one among the impatient listeners 
 seemed disposed to dispute the arrangement, it 
 was acceded to in silence. The doctor, though he 
 muttered a few mourning exclamations on behalf 
 of the lost Asinus, wa3 by far too well pleased in 
 finding that his speed was likely to be sustained 
 by four legs instead of two, to be long in com- 
 plying; and, consequently, in a very few moments 
 the bee-hunter, who was never last to speak on 
 such occasions, vociferously announced that they 
 were ready to proceed. 
 
 “ Now look off yonder to the east,” said the 
 old man, as he began to lead the way across the 
 murky and still smoking plain ; “ little fear of 
 cold feet injourneying such a path as this : but 
 look you off to the east, and if you see a sheet 
 of shining white, glistening like a plate of beaten 
 silver through the openings of the smoke, why, 
 that is water. A noble stream is running there- 
 away, and I thought I got a glimpse of it a while 
 since ; but other thoughts came, and I lost it. 
 It is a broad and swift river, such as the Lord has 
 made many of its fellows in this desert. For 
 here may Natur’ be seen in all its richness, tree 3 
 alone excepted. Trees, which are to the ’arth as 
 fruits are to a garden; without them nothing 
 can be pleasant or thoroughly useful. Now 
 watch all of you, with open eyes, for that stripe 
 of glittering water : we shall not be safe until it 
 is flowing between our trail and these sharp-sight- 
 ed Tetons.” 
 
 The latter Ueclaration was enough to insure a 
 vigilant lookout for the desired stream, on the 
 part of all the trapper’s followers. With this ob- 
 ject in view, the party proceeded in profound 
 silence, the old man having admonished them of 
 the necessity of caution, as they entered the 
 clouds of smoke, which were rolling like masses 
 of fog along the plain, more particularly over 
 those spots where the fire had encountered occa- 
 sional pools of stagnant water. 
 
 They travelled near a league in this manner, 
 without obtaining the desired glimpse of the riv- 
 er. The fire was still raging in the distance, and, 
 
124 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 as the air swept away the first vapor of the con- 
 flagration, fresh volumes rolled along the place, 
 limiting the view. At length the old man, who 
 had begun to betray some little uneasiness, which 
 caused his followers to apprehend that even his 
 acute faculties were beginning to be confuted, in 
 the mazes of the smoke, made a sudden pause, 
 and, dropping his rifle to the ground, he stood, 
 apparently musing over some object at his feet. 
 Middleton and the rest rode up to his side, and 
 demanded the reason of the halt. 
 
 “ Look ye here,” returned the trapper, point- 
 ing to the mutilated carcass of a horse, that lay 
 more than half consumed in a little hollow of the 
 ground ; “ here may you see the power of a prairie 
 conflagration. The ’arth is moist, hereaway, and 
 the grass has been taller than usual. This mis- 
 erable beast has been caught in his bed. You 
 see the bones, the crackling and scorched hide, 
 and the grinning teeth. A thousand winters 
 could not wither an animal so thoroughly as the 
 element has done it in a minute.” 
 
 “ And this might have been our fate,” said 
 Middleton, had the flames come upon us in our 
 sleep ! ” 
 
 “ Nay, I do not say that, I do not say that. 
 Not but that man will burn as well as tinder ; but 
 that, being more reasoning than a hors*e, he would 
 better know how to avoid the danger.” 
 
 “ Perhaps this, then, has been but the carcass 
 of an animal, or he too would have fled?” 
 
 “ See you these marks in the damp soil ? 
 Here have been his hoofs, and there is a moccasin- 
 print, as I’m a sinner ! The owner of the beast 
 has tried hard to move him from the place, but it 
 is in the instinct of the creatur’ to be faint-heart- 
 ed and obstinate in a fire.” 
 
 “ It is a well-known fact. But if the animal 
 has had a rider, where is he ? ” 
 
 “ Ay, therein lies the mystery,” returned the 
 trapper, stooping to examine the signs in the 
 ground with a closer eye. “ Yes, yes, it is plain 
 there has been a long struggle atween the two. 
 The master has tried hard to save his beast, and 
 the flames must have been very greedy, or he 
 would have had better success.” 
 
 “Harkee, old trapper,” interrupted Paul, 
 pointing to a little distance, where the ground 
 was drier, and the herbage had, in consequence, 
 been less luxuriant ; “just call them two horses. 
 Yonder lies another.” 
 
 “ The boy is right ! Can it be that the Tetons 
 have been caught in their own snares ? Such 
 things do happen ; and here is an example to all 
 evil-doer3. Ay, look you here: this is iron ; there 
 nave been some white inventions about the trap- 
 
 pings of the beast — it must be so— it must be So 
 — a party of the knaves have been skirting in 
 the grass after us, while their friends have fired 
 the prairie, and look you at the consequences ; 
 they have lost their beasts, and happy have they 
 been if their own souls are not now skirting along 
 the path which leads to the Indian heaven.” 
 
 “ They had the same expedient at command 
 as yourself,” rejoined Middleton, as the party 
 slowly proceeded, approaching the other carcass 
 which lay directly on their route. 
 
 . “ I know not that. It is not every savage that 
 carries his steel and flint, or as good a rifle-pan 
 as this old friend of mine. It is slow making a 
 fire with two sticks, and little time was given to 
 consider or invent just at this spot, as you may 
 see by yon streak of flame, which is flashing along 
 afore the wind, as if it were on a trail of powder. 
 It is not many minutes since the fire has passed 
 hereaway, and it may be well to look at our 
 primings ; not that I would willingly combat the 
 Tetons, God forbid ! but, if a fight needs be, it is 
 always wise to get the first shot.” 
 
 “ This has been a strange beast, old man,” 
 said Paul, who had pulled the bridle, or rather 
 halter of his steed, over the second carcass, while 
 the rest of the party were already passing, in 
 their eagerness to proceed ; “ a strange horse do 
 I call it ; it had neither head nor hoofs ! ” 
 
 “ The fire has not been idle,” returned the 
 trapper, keeping his eye vigilantly employed in 
 profiting by those glimpses of the horizon which 
 the whirling smoke offered to his examination. 
 “ It would soon bake you a buffalo whole, or for 
 that matter powder his hoofs and horns into white 
 ashes. — Shame, shame, old Hector ! As for the 
 captain’s pup, it is to be expected that he would 
 show his want of years, and I may say, I hope 
 without offence, his want of education too ; but 
 for a hound, like you, who have lived so long in 
 the forest afore you came into these plains, it is 
 very disgraceful, Hector, to be showing your 
 teeth, and growling at the carcass of a roasted 
 horse, the same as if you were telling your master 
 that you had found the trail of a grizzly bear.” 
 
 “ I tell you, old trapper, this is no horse ; nei- 
 ther in hoofs, head, nor hide.” 
 
 “ Anan ! Not a horse ? your eyes are good 
 for the bees and for the hollow trees, my lad, but 
 — bless me, the boy is right! That I should 
 mistake the bide of a buffalo, scorched and crim- 
 pled as it is, for the carcass of a horse ! Ah’s 
 me ! The time has been, my men, when I would 
 tell you the name of a beast, as far as eye could 
 reach, and that too with most of the particular# 
 of color, age, and sex.” 
 
THE YOUNG PAWNEE’S ESCAPE. 
 
 125 
 
 " An inestimable advantage have you then en- 
 joyed, venerable Venator ! ” observed the atten- 
 tive naturalist. “ The man who can make these 
 distinctions in a desert, is saved the pain of many 
 a weary walk, and often of an inquiry that in its 
 result proves useless. Pray tell me, did your ex- 
 ceeding excellence of vision extend so far as to 
 enable you to decide on their order or genus ? ” 
 
 “ I know not what you mean by your orders 
 of genius.” 
 
 “ No ! ” interrupted the bee-hunter, a little 
 disdainfully for him, when speaking to his aged 
 friend ; “ now, old trapper, that is admitting your 
 ignorance of the English language, in a way I 
 should not expect from a man of your experience 
 and understanding. By order, our comrade means 
 whether they go in promiscuous droves, like a 
 swarm that is following its queen-bee, or in sin- 
 gle file, as you often see the buffaloes trailing 
 each other through a prairie. And as for genius, 
 I’m sure that is a word well understood, and in 
 everybody’s mouth. There is the Congressman 
 in our district, and that tonguey little fellow who 
 puts out the paper in our country, they are both so 
 called, for their smartness ; which is what the 
 doctor means, as I take it, seeing that he seldom 
 speaks without some considerable meaning.” 
 
 When Paul finished this very clever explana- 
 tion he looked behind him with an expression, 
 which, rightly interpreted, would have said — 
 “ You see, though I don’t often trouble myself in 
 these matters, I am no fool.” 
 
 Ellen admired Paul for any thing but his 
 learning. There was enough in his frank, fearless, 
 and manly character, backed as it was by great 
 personal attraction, to awaken her sympathies, 
 without the necessity of prying into his mental 
 attainments. The poor girl reddened like a rose, 
 her pretty fingers played with the belt by which 
 she sustained herself on the horse, and she hur- 
 riedly observed, as if anxious to direct the atten- 
 tions of the other listeners from a weakness on 
 which her own thoughts could not bear to dwell — 
 “ And this is not a horse, after all ? ” 
 
 “ It is nothing more nor less than the hide of 
 a buffalo,” continued the trapper, who had been 
 no less puzzled by the explanation of Paul than 
 by the language of the doctor ; “ the hair is be- 
 neath ; the fire has run over it as you see ; for, be- 
 ing fresh, the flames could take no hold. The 
 beast has not been long killed, and it may be that 
 tome of the beef is still hereaway.” 
 
 “Lift the corner of the skin, old trapper,” 
 said Paul, with the tone of one who felt as if he 
 had now proved his right to mingle his voice in 
 any counsel ; “ if there is a morsel of the hump 
 
 left, it must be well cooked, and it shall be wel- 
 come.” 
 
 The old man laughed heartily at the conceit 
 of his companion. Thrusting his foot beneath 
 the skin, it moved. Then it was suddenly cast 
 aside, and an Indian warrior sprang from its cover 
 to his feet, with an agility that bespoke how ur 
 gent he deemed the occasion. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 “ I would it were bedtime, Hal, and all well . 11 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 A second glance sufficed to convince the whole 
 of the startled party that the young Pawnee, 
 whom they had already encountered, again stood 
 before them. Surprise kept both sides mute, and 
 more than a minute was passed in surveying each 
 other with eyes of astonishment, if not of distrust. 
 The wonder of the young warrior was, however, 
 much more tempered and dignified than that of 
 his Christian acquaintances. While Middleton 
 and Paul felt the tremor which shook the persons 
 of their dependent companions thrilling through 
 their own quickened blood, the glowing eye of the 
 Indian rolled from one to another as if it could 
 never quail before the rudest assaults. His gaze, 
 after making the circuit of every wondering coun- 
 tenance, finally settled in a steady look on the 
 equally immovable features of the trapper. The 
 silence was first broken by Dr. Battius, in the 
 ejaculation of — 
 
 “ Order, primates ; genus, homo ; species , prai- 
 rie ! ” 
 
 “ Ay— ay — the secret is out,” said the old 
 trapper, shaking his head, like one who congratu- 
 lated himself on having mastered the mystery of 
 some knotty difficulty. “ The lad has been in the 
 grass for a cover ; the fire has come upon him in 
 his sleep, and, having lost his horse, he has been 
 driven to save himself under that fresh hide of a 
 buffalo. No bad invention, when powder and flint 
 were wanting to kindle a ring. I warrant me, 
 now, this is a clever youth, and one that it would 
 be safe to journey with ! I will speak to him 
 kindly, for anger can at least serve no turn of 
 ours. — My brother is welcome again,” using the 
 language which the other understood; “the Te- 
 tons have been smoking him, as they would a 
 raccoon.” 
 
 The young Pawnee rolled his eye over the 
 place, as if he were examining the terrific danger 
 from which he had just escaped, but he disdained 
 to betray the smallest emotion at its imminency. 
 
120 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 His brow contracted as he answered to the re- 
 mark of the trapper by saying : 
 
 “A Teton is a dog. When the Pawnee war- 
 whoop is in their ears, the whole nation howls.” 
 
 “ It i3 true. The imps are on our trail, and I 
 am glad to meet a warrior, with the tomahawk in 
 his hand, who does not love them. Will my 
 bi'other lead my children to his village ? If the 
 Siouxes follow on our path, my young men shall 
 help him to srtike them.” 
 
 The young Pawnee turned his eyes from one 
 to another of the strangers, in a keen scrutiny, 
 before he saw fit to answer so important an inter- 
 rogatory. His examination of the males was 
 short, and apparently satisfactory. But his gaze 
 was fastened long and admiringly, as in their 
 former interview, on the surpassing and unwonted 
 beauty of a being so fair and so unknown as Inez. 
 Though his glance wandered, for moments, from 
 her countenance to the more intelligible and yet 
 extraordinary charms of Ellen, it did not fail to 
 return promptly to the study of a creature who, 
 in the view of his unpractised eye and untutored 
 imagination, was formed with all that perfection 
 with which the youthful poet is apt to endow the 
 glowing images of his brain. Nothing so fair, so 
 ideal, so every way worthy to reward the courage 
 and self-devotion of a warrior, had ever before 
 been encountered on the prairies, and the young 
 brave appeared to be deeply and intuitively sen- 
 sible to the influence of so rare a model of the 
 loveliness of the sex. Perceiving, however, that 
 his gaze gave uneasiness to the subject of his 
 admiration, he withdrew his eyes, and, laying his 
 hand impressively on his chest, he modestly an- 
 swered : 
 
 “ My father shall be welcome. The young 
 men of my nation shall hunt with his sons ; the 
 chiefs shall smoke with the gray-head. The Paw- 
 nee girls will sing in the ears of his daughters.” 
 
 “ And if we meet the Tetons ? ” demanded the 
 trapper, who wished to understand, thoroughly, 
 the more important conditions of this new alli- 
 ance. 
 
 “ The enemy of the Big-knives shall feel the 
 blow of the Pawnee.” 
 
 “ It is well. Now, let my brother and I meet 
 in counsel, that we may not go on a crooked path, 
 but that our road to his village may be like the 
 flight of the pigeons.” 
 
 The young Pawnee made a significant gesture 
 of assent, and followed the other a little apart, in 
 order to be removed from all danger of interrup- 
 tion from the reckless Paul or the abstracted 
 naturalist. Their conference was short, but, as 
 it was conducted in the sententious manner of 
 
 the natives, it served to make each of the parties 
 acquainted with all the necessary information of 
 the other. When they rejoined their associates, 
 the old man saw fit to explain a portion of what 
 had passed between them as follows : 
 
 “ Ay, I was not mistaken,” he said ; “ this 
 good-looking young warrior — for good-looking 
 and noble-looking he is, though a little horrified 
 perhaps with paint — this good-looking youth, then, 
 tells me he is out on the scout for these very 
 Tetons. His party was not strong enough to 
 strike the devils, who are down from their towns 
 in great numbers to hunt the buffalo, and runners 
 have gone to the Pawnee villages for aid. It 
 would seem that this lad is a fearless boy, for he 
 has been hanging on their skirts alone, until, like 
 ourselves, he was driven to the grass for a cover. 
 But he tells me more, my men, and what I am 
 mainly sorry to hear, which is, that the cunning 
 Mahtoree, instead of going to blows with the 
 squatter, has become his friend, and that both 
 broods, red and white, are on our heels, and out- 
 lying around this very burning plain to circum- 
 vent us to our destruction.” 
 
 “ How knows he all this to be true ? ” de- 
 manded Middleton. 
 
 “ Anan ! ” 
 
 “ In what manner does he know that these 
 things are so ? ” 
 
 “ In what manner ! Do you think newspapers 
 and town-criers are needed to tell a scout what is 
 doing on the prairies, as they are in the bosom 
 of the States ? No gossiping woman, who hurries 
 from house to house to spread evil of her neigh- 
 bor, can cari’y tidings with her tongue so fast as 
 these people will spread their meaning, by signs 
 and warnings that they alone understand. ’Tis 
 their faming, and, what is better, it is got in the 
 open air, and not within the walls of a school. I 
 tell you, captain, that wliat he says is true.” 
 
 “ For that matter,” said Paul, “ I’m ready to 
 swear to it. It is reasonable, and therefore it 
 must be true.” 
 
 “ And well you might, lad — well you might. 
 He furthermore declares that my old eyes for once 
 were true to me, and that the river lies, hereaway, 
 at about the distance of half a league. You see 
 the fire has done most of its work in that quarter, 
 and our path is clouded in smoke. He also 
 agrees that it is needful to wash our trail in water. 
 Yes, we must put that river atween us and the 
 Sioux eyes, and then, by the favor of the Lord, 
 not forgetting our own industry, we may gain the 
 village of the Loups.” 
 
 “ Words will not forward us a foot,” said Mid- 
 dleton ; “ let us move.” 
 
CROSSING THE RIVER. 
 
 13 ) 
 
 The old man assented, and the party once 
 more prepared to renew its route. The Pawnee 
 threw the skin of the buffalo over his shoulder 
 and led the advance, casting many a stolen 
 glance behind him as he proceeded, in order to 
 fix his gaze on the extraordinary and, to him, un- 
 accountable loveliness of the unconscious Inez. 
 
 An hour sufficed to bring the fugitives to the 
 bank of the stream, which was one of the hun- 
 dred rivers that serve to conduct, through the 
 mighty arteries of the Missouri and Mississippi, 
 the waters of that vast and still uninhabited 
 region to the ocean. The river was not deep, 
 but its current was troubled and rapid. 
 
 The flames had scorched the earth to its very 
 margin, and as the warm streams of the fluid 
 mingled, in the cooler air of the morning, with 
 the smoke of the raging conflagration, most of 
 its surface was wrapped in a mantle of moving va- 
 por. The trapper pointed out the circumstance 
 with pleasure, saying, as he assisted Inez to dis- 
 mount on the margin of the water-course : 
 
 “ The knaves have outwitted themselves ! I 
 am far from certain that I should not have fired 
 the prairie, to have got the benefit of this very 
 smoke to hide our movements, had not the heart- 
 less imps saved us the trouble. I’ve known such 
 things done in my day, and done with success. 
 Come, lady, put your tender foot upon the 
 ground — for a fearful time has it been to one of 
 your breeding and skeary qualities. Ah’s me ! 
 what have I not known the young, and the deli- 
 cate, and the virtuous, and the modest, to undergo, 
 in my time, among the bonifications and circum- 
 ventions of Indian warfare ! Come, it is a short 
 quarter of a mile to the other bank, and then our 
 trail, at least, wdll be broken.” 
 
 Paul had by this time assisted Ellen to dis- 
 mount, and he now stood looking, with rueful 
 eyes, at the naked banks of the river. Neither 
 tree nor shrub grew along its borders, with the 
 exception of here and there a solitary thicket of 
 low bushes, from among which it would not have 
 been an easy matter to have found a dozen stems 
 of a 6ize sufficient to make an ordinary walking- 
 stick. 
 
 “ Harkee, old trapper,” the moody-looking 
 bee-hunter exclaimed ; “ it is very w ell to talk of 
 the other side of this ripple of a river, or brook, 
 or whatever you may call it, but in my judgment 
 it would be a smart rifle that would throw its 
 lead across it — that is, to any detriment to Indian 
 or deer.” 
 
 “ That it would — that it would ; though I 
 carry a piece, here, that has done its work, in 
 time of need, at as great a distance.” 
 
 “ And do you mean to shoot Ellen and the 
 saptain’s lady across ; or do you intend them to 
 go, trout-fashion, with their mouths under wa- 
 ter ? ” 
 
 “ Is this river too deep to be forded ? ” asked 
 Middleton, who, like Paul, began to consider the 
 impossibility of transporting her, whose safety 
 he valued more than his own, to the opposite 
 shore. 
 
 “ When the mountains above feed it with 
 their torrents, it is, as you see, a swift and power- 
 ful stream. Yet have I crossed its sandy bed, 
 in my time, without wetting a knee. But we 
 have the Sioux horses ; I warrant me that the 
 kicking imps will swim like so many deer.” 
 
 “ Old trapper,” said Paul, thrusting his fingers 
 into his mop of a head, as w as usual with him, 
 when any difficulty confounded his philosophy, “ I 
 have swum like a fish in my day, and I can do it 
 again, when there is need ; nor do I much regard 
 the weather ; but I question if you get Nelly to sit 
 a horse, with this water whirling like a mill-race 
 before her eyes ; besides, it is manifest the thing is 
 not to be done dry shod.” 
 
 “ Ah, the lad is right. We must to our inven- 
 tions, therefore, or the river cannot be crossed.’* 
 Then, cutting the discourse short, he turned to the 
 Pawnee, and explained to him the difficulty which 
 existed in relation to the women. The young 
 warrior listened gravely, and, throwing the buf- 
 falo-skin from his shoulder, he immediately com- 
 menced, assisted by the occasional aid of the un- 
 derstanding old man, the preparations necessary 
 to effect his desirable object. 
 
 The hide was soon drawn into the shape of an 
 umbrella top, or an inverted parachute, by thongs 
 of deer-skin, with which both the laborers were 
 well provided. A few light sticks served to keep 
 the parts from collapsing, or falling in. When this 
 simple and natural expedient was arranged, it was 
 placed on the water, the Indian making a sign 
 that it was ready to receive its freight. Both 
 Inez and Ellen hesitated to trust themselves in a 
 bark of so frail a construction, nor would Middle- 
 ton or Paul consent that they should do so, until 
 each had assured himself, by actual experiment, 
 that the vessel was capable of sustaining a load 
 much heavier than it was destined to receive. 
 Then, indeed, their scruples were reluctantly over- 
 come, and the skin was made to receive its pre- 
 cious burden. 
 
 “Now leave the Pawnee to be the pilot,” said 
 the trapper ; “ my hand is not so steady as it psed 
 to be ; but he has limbs like toughened hickory. 
 Leave all to the wisdom of the Pawnee.” 
 
 The husband and lover could not well do oth- 
 
THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 128 
 
 erwise, and they were fain to become deeply in- 
 terested, it is true, but passive spectators of this 
 primitive species of ferrying. The Pawnee se- 
 lected the beast of Mahtoree from among the 
 three horses, with a readiness that proved he was 
 far from being ignorant of the properties of that 
 noble animal, and, throwing himself upon its back, 
 he rode into the margin of the river. Thrusting 
 an end of his lance into the hide, he bore the light 
 vessel up against the stream, and, giving his steed 
 the rein, they pushed boldly into the current. 
 Middleton and Paul followed, pressing as nigh the 
 bark as prudence would at all warrant. In this 
 manner the young- warrior bore his precious car- 
 go to the opposite! bank in perfect safety, with- 
 out the slightest inconvenience to the passengers, 
 and with a steadiness and celerity which proved 
 that both hbfse and rider were not unused to the 
 operation. When the shore was gained, the 
 young Indian undid his work, threw the skin over 
 his shoulder, placed the sticks under his arm, and 
 returned, without speaking, to transfer the remain- 
 der of the party, in a similar manner, to what was 
 very justly considered the safer side of the river. 
 
 “ Now, friend doctor,” said the old man, when 
 he saw the Indian plunging into the river a sec- 
 ond time, “ do I know there is faith in yonder 
 red-skin. He is a good-looking, ay, and an hon- 
 ost-looking youth, but the winds of heaven are 
 not more deceitful than these savages, when the 
 devil has fairly beset them. Had the Pawnee 
 been a Teton, or one of them heartless Mingoes 
 that used to be prowling through the woods of 
 York, a time back, that is, some sixty years agone, 
 we should have seen his back and not his face 
 turned toward us. My heart had its misgivings 
 when I saw the lad choose the better horse, for it 
 would be as easy tb leave uS with that beast, as it 
 would for a nimble pigeon to part company from a 
 flock of noisy and heavy-winged crows. But you 
 see that truth is in the boy, and, make a red-skin 
 once your friend, he is yours so long as you deal 
 honestly by him.” 
 
 “ What may be the distance to the sources of 
 this stream ? ” demanded Dr. Battius, whose 
 eyes were rolling over the whirling eddies of the 
 current, with a very portentous expression of 
 doubt. “ At what distance may its secret springs 
 be found ? ” 
 
 “ That may be as the weather proves. I war- 
 rant me your legs would be a-weary before you 
 had followed its bed into the Rocky Mountains ; 
 but then there are seasons when it might be done 
 without wetting a foot.” 
 
 “ And in what particular divisions of the year 
 do these periodical seasons occur ? ” 
 
 “ He that passes this spot a few months from 
 this time, will find that foaming water-course a 
 desert of drifting sand.” 
 
 The naturalist pondered deeply. Like most 
 others who are not endowed with a superfluity of 
 physical fortitude, the worthy man had found the 
 danger of passing the river, in so simple a man- 
 ner, magnifying itself in his eyes so rapidly, as 
 the moment of adventure approached, that he 
 actually contemplated the desperate effort of go- 
 ing round the river in order to escape the hazard 
 of crossing it. It may not be necessary to dwell 
 on the incredible ingenuity with which terror will 
 at any time prop a tottering argument. The 
 worthy Obed had gone over the whole subject 
 with commendable diligence, and had just arrived 
 at the consoling conclusion that there was nearly 
 as much glory in discerning the hidden sources 
 of so considerable a stream, as in adding a plant 
 or an insect to the lists of the learned, when the 
 Pawnee reached the shore for the second time. 
 The old man took his seat with the utmost delib- 
 eration, in the vessel of skin (so soon as it had 
 been duly arranged for his reception), and, having 
 carefully disposed of Hector between his legs, he 
 beckoned to his companion to occupy the third 
 place. 
 
 The naturalist placed a foot in the frail vessel, 
 as an elephant will try a bridge, or a horse is 
 Often seen to make a similar experiment before 
 he will trust the whole of his corporeal treasure 
 on the dreaded flat, and then withdrew just as 
 the old man believed he was about to seat him- 
 self. 
 
 “ Venerable Venator,” he said, mournfully, 
 “ this is a most unscientific bark. There is an 
 inward monitor which bids me distrust its secu- 
 rity !”' 
 
 “ Anan ! •” said the old man, who was pinching 
 the ears of the hound, as a father would play 
 with the same member in a favorite child. 
 
 “ I incline not to this irregular mode of ex- 
 perimenting on fluids. The vessel has neither 
 form nor proportions.” 
 
 “ It is not as handsomely turned as I have 
 seen a canoe in birchen bark, but comfort may be 
 taken in a wigwam as well as in a palace.” 
 
 “ It is impossible that any vessel constructed 
 on principles so repugnant to science can be safe. 
 This tub, venerable hunter, will never reach the 
 opposite shore in safety.” 
 
 “ You are a witness of what it has done.” 
 
 “ Ay ; but it was an anomaly in prosperity. 
 If exceptions were to be taken as rules in the 
 government of things, the human race would 
 speedily be plunged in the abysses of ignorance. 
 
THE TETONS IN PURSUIT. 
 
 120 
 
 Venerable trapper, this expedient in which you 
 would repose your safety, is, in the annals of reg- 
 ular inventions, what a lusus naturae may be 
 termed in the lists of natural history — a mon- 
 ster t ” 
 
 How mnch longer Dr. Battius might have felt 
 disposed to prolong the discourse it is difficult to 
 say, for, in addition to the powerful personal con- 
 siderations which induced him to procrastinate 
 an experiment which was certainly not without 
 its dangers, the pride of reason was beginning to 
 sustain him in the discussion. But, fortunately 
 for the credit of the old man’s forbearance, when 
 the naturalist reached the word with which he ter- 
 minated his last speech, a sound arose in the air 
 that seemed a sort of supernatural echo to the 
 idea itself. The young Pawnee, who had awaited 
 the termination of the incomprehensible discus- 
 sion with grave and characteristic patience, raised 
 his head and listened to the unknown cry, like a 
 stag whose mysterious faculties had detected the 
 footsteps of the distant hounds in the gale. The 
 trapper and the doctor were not, however, entire- 
 ly so uninstructed as to the nature of the extraor- 
 dinary sounds. The latter recognized in them 
 the well-known voice of his own beast, and he 
 was about to rush up the little bank which con- 
 fined the current, with all the longings of strong 
 affection, when Asinus himself galloped into view, 
 at no great distance, urged to the unnatural gait 
 by the impatient and brutal Weucha, who bestrode 
 him. 
 
 The eyes of the Teton and those of the fugi- 
 tives met. The former raised a long, loud, and 
 piercing yell, in which the notes of exultation 
 were fearfully blended with those of warning. 
 The signal served for a finishing blow to the dis- 
 cussion on the merits of the bark, the doctor 
 stepping as promptly to the side of the old man, 
 as if a mental mist had been miraculously re- 
 moved from his eyes. In another instant the 
 steed of the young Pawnee was struggling with 
 the torrent. 
 
 The utmost strength of the horse was needed 
 to urge the fugitives beyond the flight of arrows 
 that came sailing through the air, at the next 
 moment. The cry of Weucha had brought fifty 
 of his comrades to the shore, but fortunately, 
 among them all, there was not one of a rank suf- 
 ficient to entitle him to the privilege of bearing a 
 fusee. One-half the stream, however, was not 
 passed, before the form of Mahtoree himself was 
 seen on its bank, and an ineffectual discharge of 
 fire-arms announced the rage and disappointment 
 of the chief. More than once the trapper had 
 raised his rifle, as if about to try its power on his 
 9 
 
 enemies, but he as often lowered it, without fir- 
 ing. The eyes of the Pawiiee warrior glared like 
 those of the cougar, at the sight of so many of the 
 hostile tribe, and he answered the impotent effort 
 of their chief, by tossing a hand into the air in 
 contempt, and raising the war-cry of his nation. 
 The challenge was too taunting to be endured. 
 The Tetons dashed into the stream in a body, and 
 the river became dotted with the dark forms of 
 beasts and riders. 
 
 There was now a fearful struggle for the 
 friendly bank. As the Dahcotahs advanced with 
 beasts which had not, like that of the Pawnee, 
 expended their strength in former efforts, and as 
 they moved unincumbered by any thing but their 
 riders, the speed of the pursuers greatly out- 
 stripped that of the fugitives. The trapper, who 
 clearly comprehended the whole danger of their 
 situation, calmly turned his eyes from the Tetons 
 to his young Indian associate, in order to examine 
 whether the resolution of the latter began to falter, 
 as the former lessened the distance between them. 
 Instead of betraying fear, however, or any of 
 that concern which might so readily have been 
 excited by the peculiarity of his risk, the brow of 
 the young warrior contracted to a look which in- 
 dicated high and deadly hostility. 
 
 “ Do you greatly value life, friend doctor ? ” 
 demanded the old man, with a sort of philosophic 
 cal calmness, which made the question doubly ap- 
 palling to his companion. 
 
 “Not for itself,” returned the naturalist, sip- 
 ping some of the water of the river from tho 
 hollow of his hand, in order to clear his husky 
 throat — “not for itself, but exceedingly, inas- 
 much as natural history has so deep a stake in 
 my existence. Therefore — ” 
 
 “Ay!” resumed the other, who mused too 
 deeply to dissect the ideas of the doctor with his 
 usual sagacity, “ ’tis in truth the history of natur’, 
 and a base and craven feeling it is ! Now is life 
 as precious to this young Pawnee, as to any gov- 
 ernor in the States, and he might save it, or at 
 least stand some chance of saving it, by letting 
 us go down the stream ; and yet you see he keeps 
 his faith manfully, and like an Indian warrior. 
 For myself, I am old, and willing to take the for- 
 tune that the Lord may see fit to give, nor do I 
 conceit that you are of much benefit to mankind ; 
 and it is a crying shame, if not a sin, that so fine 
 a youth as this should lose his scalp for two be- 
 ings so worthless as ourselves. I am therefore 
 disposed, provided that it shall prove agreeable to 
 you, to tell the lad to make the best of his way, 
 and to leave us to the mercy of the Tetons.” 
 
 “ I repel the proposition, as repugnant to na- 
 
130 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 ture, and as treason to science ! ” exclaimed the 
 alarmed naturalist. “ Our progress is miraculous ; 
 and, as this admirable invention moves with so 
 wonderful a facility, a few more minutes will 
 serve to bring us to land.” 
 
 The old man regarded him intently for an in- 
 stant, and shaking his head he said : 
 
 “ Lord, what a thing is fear ! it transforms 
 the creatur’s of the world and the craft of man, 
 making that which is ugly, seemly in our eyes, 
 and that which is beautiful, unsightly ? Lord, 
 Lord, what a thing is fear ! ” 
 
 A termination was, however, put to the dis- 
 cussion, by the increasing interest of the chase. 
 The horses Of the Dahcotahs had by this time 
 gained the middle of the current, and their riders 
 were already filling the air with yells of triumph. 
 At this moment Middleton and Paul, who had led 
 the females to a little thicket, appeared again on 
 the margin of the stream, menacing their enemies 
 with the rifle. 
 
 “ Mount, mount,” shouted the trapper, the 
 instant he beheld them ; “ mount and fly, if you 
 value those who lean on you for help ! Mount, 
 and leave us in the hands of the Lord.” 
 
 “ Stoop your head, old trapper,” returned the 
 voice of Paxil, “down with ye both into your 
 nest. The Teton devil is in your line; down 
 with your heads, and make way for a Kentucky 
 bullet 1 ” 
 
 The old man turned his head, and saw that 
 the eager Mahtoree, who preceded his party some 
 distance, had brought himself nearly in a line 
 with the bark and the bee-hunter, who stood per- 
 fectly ready to execute his hostile threat. Bend- 
 ing his body low, the rifle was discharged, and 
 the swift lead whizzed harmlessly past him, on its 
 more distant errand. But the eye of the Teton 
 chief was not less quick and certain than that of 
 his enemy. He threw himself from his horse the 
 moment preceding the report, and sank into the 
 water. The beast snorted with terror and anguish, 
 throwing half his form out of the river in a des- 
 perate plunge. Then he was seen drifting away 
 in the torrent, and dyeing the turbid waters with 
 his blood. 
 
 The Teton chief soon reappeared on the sur- 
 face, and, understanding the nature of his loss, he 
 swam with vigorous strokes to the nearest of the 
 young men, who relinquished his steed, as a mat- 
 ter of course, to so renowned a warrior. The in- 
 cident, however, created a confusion in the whole 
 of the DahcotaV band, who appeared to await the 
 intention of their leader, before they renewed 
 their efforts to reach the shore. In the mean time 
 the vessel of skm had reached the land, and the 
 
 : fugitives were once more united on the max gin of 
 the river. 
 
 The savages were now swimming about in inde- 
 cision, as a flock of pigeons is often seen to hov- 
 er in confusion after receiving a heavy discharge 
 into its leading column, apparently hesitating on 
 the risk of storming a bank so formidably de- 
 fended. The well-known precaution of Indian 
 warfare prevailed, and Mahtoree, admonished by 
 his recent adventure, led his warriors back to the 
 shore from whieh they had come, in order to re- 
 lieve their beasts, which were already becoming 
 ■unruly. 
 
 “Now, mount you with the tender ones, and 
 ride for yonder hillock,” said the trapper ; “ be- 
 yond it you will find another stream, into which 
 you must enter, and, turning to the sun, follow its 
 bed for a mile, until you reach a high and sandy 
 plain ; there will I meet you. Go ; mount ; this 
 Pawnee youth and I, and my stout friend the phy- 
 sician, who is a desperate wanior, are men euough 
 to keep the bank, seeing that show and not use 
 is all that is needed.” 
 
 Middleton and Paul saw no use in wasting 
 their breath in remonstrances against this pro- 
 posal. Glad to know that their rear was to be cov- 
 ered, even in this imperfect manner, they hastily 
 got their horses in motion, and soon disappeared 
 on the required route. Some twenty or thirty 
 minutes succeeded this movement, before the Te- 
 tons on the opposite shore seemed inclined to en- 
 ter on any new enterprise. Mahtoree was dis- 
 tinctly visible, in the midst of his warriors, issu- 
 ing his mandates and betraying his desire for ven- 
 geance, by occasionally shaking an arm in the di- 
 rection of the fugitives ; but no step was taken 
 which appeared to threaten any further act of im- 
 mediate hostility. At length a yell arose among 
 the savages, which announced the occurrence of 
 some fresh event. Then Ishmael and his sluggish 
 sons were seen in the distance, and scon the whole 
 of the united force moved down to the very lim- 
 its of the stream. The squatter proceeded to ex- 
 amine the position of his enemies with his usual 
 coolness, and, as if to try the power of his rifle, 
 he sent a bullet among them, with a force suf- 
 ficient to do execution, even at the distance at 
 which he stood. 
 
 “Now let us depart!” exclaimed Ob ed, en- 
 deavoring to catch a furtive glimpse of the lead, 
 which he fancied was whizzing at his very ear ; 
 “we have maintained the bank in a gallant man- 
 ner for a sufficient length of time ; quite as much 
 military skill is to be displayed in a retreat as in 
 an advance.” 
 
 The old man cast a look behind him, and, eee- 
 
CAPTURE OF THE FUGITIVES. 
 
 131 
 
 bog that the equestrians had reached the cover of 
 the hill, he made no objections to the proposal. 
 The remaining horse was given to the doctor, 
 with instructions to pursue the course just 
 taken by Middleton and Paul. When the natu- 
 ralist was mounted and in full retreat, the trapper 
 and the young Pawnee stole from the spot in such 
 a manner as to leave their enemies for some time 
 in doubt as to their movements. Instead, how- 
 ever, of proceeding across the plain toward the 
 hill, a route on which they must have been in 
 open view, they took a shorter path, covered by 
 the formation of the ground, and intersected the 
 little water-course at the point where Middleton 
 had been directed to leave it, and just in season 
 to join his party. The doctor had used so much 
 diligence in the retreat as to have already over- 
 taken his friends, and of course all the fugitives 
 were again assembled. 
 
 The trapper now looked about him for some 
 convenient spot where the whole party might halt, 
 as be expressed it, for some five or six hours. 
 
 •“ Halt ! ” exclaimed the doctor, when the 
 alarming proposal reached his ears ; “ venerable 
 hunter, it would seem that, on the contrary, many 
 days should be passed in industrious flight.” 
 
 Middleton and Paul were both of this opinion, 
 and each in his particular manner expressed as 
 much. 
 
 The old man heard them with patience, but 
 shook his head like one who is unconvinced, and 
 then answered all their arguments in one general 
 and positive reply. 
 
 “ Why should we fly ? ” he asked. “ Can the 
 legs of mortal men outstrip the speed of horses ? 
 Do you think the Tetons will lie down and sleep ; 
 or will they cross the water and nose for our trail ? 
 Thanks be to the Lord we have washed it well in 
 this stream, and if we leave the place with discre- 
 tion and wisdom we may yet throw them off its 
 track. But a prairie is not a wood. There a man 
 may journey long, caring for nothing but the 
 prints his moccasin leaves, whereas on these open 
 plains a runner placed on yonder hill, for instance, 
 could see far on every side of him, like a hover- 
 ing hawk looking down on his prey. No, no ; 
 night must come and darkness be upon us afore 
 we leave this spot. But listen to the words of the 
 Pawnee ; he is a lad of spirit, and I warrant me 
 many is the hard race that he has run with the 
 Sioux bands — Does my brother think our trail is 
 long enough ? ” he demanded in the Indian tongue. 
 
 “ Is a Teton a fish, that he can see it in the 
 river ? ” 
 
 “But my young men think we should stretch 
 it until it reaches across the prairie.” 
 
 “ Mahtoree has eyes ; he will see it.” 
 
 “ What does my brother counsel ? ” 
 
 The young warrior studied the heavens a mo- 
 ment, and appeared to hesitate. He mused some 
 time with himself, and then he replied, like oue 
 whose opinion was fixed : 
 
 “ The Dahcotahs are not asleep,” he said ; 
 “ we must lie in the grass.” 
 
 “ Ah ! the lad is of my mind,” said the old 
 man, briefly explaining the opinion of liis compan- 
 ion to his white friends. Middleton was obliged 
 to acquiesce, and, as it was confessedly dangerous 
 to remain upon their feet, each one set about as- 
 sisting in the means to be adopted for their secu- 
 rity. Inez and Ellen were quickly bestowed be- 
 neath the warm and not uncomfortable shelter of 
 the buffalo skins, which formed a thick covering, 
 and tall grass was drawn over the place in such 
 a manner as to evade any examination from a 
 common eye. Paul and the Pawnee fettered the 
 beasts and cast them to the earth, where, after 
 supplying them with food, they were also left 
 concealed in the fog of the prairie. No time was 
 lost, when these several arrangements were com- 
 pleted, before each of the others sought a place 
 of rest and concealment, and then the plain ap- 
 peared again deserted to its solitude. 
 
 The old man had advised his companions of 
 the absolute necessity of their continuing for 
 hours in this concealment. All their hopes of 
 escape depended on the success of the artifice. 
 If they might elude the cunning of their pur- 
 suers by this simple and therefore less suspected 
 expedient, they could renew their flight as the 
 evening approached, and, by changing their course, 
 the chance of final success would be greatly in- 
 creased. Influenced by these momentous consid- 
 erations the whole party lay musing on their situa- 
 tion, until thoughts grew weary, and sleep finally 
 settled on them all, one after another. 
 
 The deepest silence had prevailed for hours, 
 when the quick ears of the trapper and the Paw- 
 nee were startled by a faint cry of surprise from 
 Inez. Springing to their feet, like men who were 
 about to struggle for their lives, they found the 
 vast plain, the rolling swells, the little hillock, 
 and the scattered thickets, covered alike in one 
 white, dazzling sheet of snow. 
 
 “ The Lord have mercy on ye all ! ” exclaimed 
 the old man, regarding the prospect with a rue- 
 ful eye. “Now, Pawnee, do I know the reason 
 why you studied the clouds so closely ; but it is 
 too late ; it is too late ! A squirrel would leave 
 his trail on this light coating of the ’arth. Ha ! 
 there come the imps to a certainty. Down 
 with ye all, down with ye ; your chance is 
 
132 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 but small, and yet it must not be wilfully cast 
 away/’ 
 
 The whole party was instantly concealed again, 
 though many an anxious and stolen glance was 
 directed through the tops of the grass, on the 
 movements of their enemies. At the distance 
 of half a mile, the Teton band was seen riding 
 in a circuit, which was gradually contracting 
 itself, and evidently closing upon the very spot 
 where the fugitives lay. There was but little 
 difficulty in solving the mystery of this move- 
 ment. The snow had fallen in time to assure 
 them that those they sought were in their rear, 
 and they were now employed, with the unwearied 
 perseverance and patience of Indian warriors, in 
 circling the certain boundaries of their place of 
 concealment. 
 
 Each minute added to the jeopardy of the 
 fugitives. Paul and Middleton deliberately pre- 
 pared their rifles, and as the occupied Mahtoree 
 came, at length, within fifty feet of them, keep- 
 ing his eyes riveted on the grass through which 
 he rode, they levelled them together and pulled 
 the triggers. The effort was answered by the 
 mere snapping of the locks. 
 
 “ Enough,” said the old man, rising with 
 dignity ; “ I have cast away the priming ; for 
 certain death would follow your rashness. Now 
 let us meet our fates like men. Cringing and 
 complaining find no favor in Indian eye's.” 
 
 His appearance was greeted by a yell that 
 spread far and wide over the plain, and in a mo- 
 ment a hundred savages were seen riding madly 
 to the spot. Mahtoree received his prisoners 
 with great self-restraint, though a single gleam 
 of fierce joy broke through his clouded brow, 
 and the heart of Middleton grew cold as he 
 caught the expression of that eye, which the 
 chief turned on the nearly insensible but still 
 lovely Inez. 
 
 The exultation of receiving the white captives 
 was so great, as for a time to throw the dark and 
 immovable form of their young Indian compan- 
 ion entirely out of view. He stood apart, dis- 
 daining to turn an eye on his enemies, as motion- 
 less as if he were frozen in that attitude of dig- 
 nity and composure. But when a little time had 
 passed, even this secondary object attracted the 
 attention of the Tetons. Then it was that the 
 trapper first learned, by the shout of triumph 
 and the long-drawn yell of delight, which burst 
 at once from a hundred throats, as well as by the 
 terrible name which filled the air, that his youth- 
 ful friend was no other than that redoubtable and 
 hitherto invincible warrior, Hard-Heart. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 “ What, are ancient Pistol and you friends, yet? ” 
 SnAKKeMAM. 
 
 The curtain of our imperfect drama must 
 fall to rise upon another scene. The time is ad- 
 vanced several days, during which very material 
 changes had occurred in the situation of the actors. 
 The hour is noon, and the place an elevated plain, 
 that rose, at no great distance from the water, 
 somewhat abruptly from a fertile bottom which 
 stretched along the margin of one of the number- 
 less water-courses of that region. The river took 
 its rise near the base of the Rocky Mountains, 
 and after washing a vast extent of plain it min- 
 gled its waters with a still larger stream, to be- 
 come finally lost in the turbid current of the Mis- 
 souri. 
 
 The landscape was changed materially for the 
 better ; though the hand which had impressed so 
 much of the desert on the surrounding region, 
 had laid a portion of its power on this spot. The 
 appearance of vegetation was, however, less dis- 
 couraging than in the more sterile wastes of the 
 rolling prairies. Clusters of trees were scattered 
 in greater profusion, and a long outline of ragged 
 forest marked the northern boundary of the view. 
 Here and there on the bottom were to be seen 
 the evidences of a hasty and imperfect culture 
 of such indigenous vegetables as were of a quick 
 growth, and which were known to flourish with- 
 out the aid of art in deep and alluvial soils. On 
 the very edge of what might be called the table- 
 land, were pitched the hundred lodges of a horde 
 of wandering Sioux. Their light tenements were 
 arranged without the least attention to order. 
 Proximity to the water seemed to be the only con- 
 sideration which had been consulted in their dis- 
 position, nor had even this important convenience 
 been always regarded. While most of the lodges 
 stood along the brow of the plain, many were to 
 be seen at greater distances, occupying such 
 places as had first pleased the capricious eyes of 
 their untutored owners. The encampment was 
 not military, nor in the slightest degree protected 
 from surprise by its position or defences. It was 
 open on every side, and on every side as accessi- 
 ble as any other point in those wastes, if the im- 
 perfect and natural obstruction offered by the 
 river be excepted. In short, the place bore the 
 appearance of having been tenanted longer than 
 its occupants had originally intended, while it was 
 not wanting in the signs of readiness for a hasty 
 or even a compelled departure. 
 
A SIOUX ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 133 
 
 This was the temporary encampment of that 
 portion of his people who had long been hunting 
 under the direction of Mahtoree, on those grounds 
 which separated the stationary abodes of his na- 
 tion from those of the warlike tribes of the Paw- 
 nees. The lodges were tents of skin, high, con- 
 ical, and of the most simple and primitive con- 
 struction. The shield, the quiver, the lance, and 
 the bow of its master, were to be seen suspended 
 from a light post before the opening or door of 
 each habitation. The different domestic imple- 
 ments of his one, two, or three wives, as the 
 brave was of greater or lesser renown, were care- 
 lessly thrown at its side, and here and there the 
 round, full, patient countenance of an infant 
 might be found peeping from its comfortless 
 wrappers of bark, as, suspended by a deer-skin 
 thong from the same post, it rocked in the pass- 
 ing air. Children of a larger growth were tum- 
 bling over each other in piles, the males, even at 
 that early age, making themselves distinguished 
 for that species of domination which, in after-life, 
 was to mark the vast distinction between the 
 sexes. Youths were in the bottom, essaying 
 their juvenile powers in curbing the wild steeds 
 of their fathers, while here and there a truant 
 girl was to be seen stealing from her labors to 
 admire their fierce and impatient daring. 
 
 Thus far the picture was the daily exhibition 
 of an encampment confident in its security. But 
 immediately in front of the lodges w r as a gather- ; 
 ing that seemed to forebode some movements of 
 more than usual interest. A few of the withered 
 and remorseless crones of the band were cluster- 
 ing together, in readiness to lend their fell voices, 
 if needed, to aid in exciting their descendants to 
 an exhibition which their depraved tastes coveted, 
 as the luxurious Roman dame witnessed the strug- 
 gles and the agony of the gladiator. The men 
 w r ere subdivided into groups, assorted according 
 to the deeds and reputations of the several indi- 
 viduals of whom they were composed. 
 
 They who were of that equivocal age which 
 admitted them to the hunts, while their discretion 
 was still too doubtful to permit them to be trusted 
 on the war-path, hung around the skirts of the 
 whole, catching from the fierce models before them 
 that gravity of demeanor and restraint of man- 
 ner which in time was to become so deeply in- 
 grafted in their own characters. A few of the still 
 older class, and who had heard the whoop in anger, 
 were a little more presuming, pressing nigher to 
 the chiefs, though far from presuming to mingle 
 in their councils, sufficiently distinguished by be- 
 ing permitted to catch the wisdom which fell from 
 Ups so venerated. The ordinary warriors of the [ 
 
 band were still less diffident, not hesitating to 
 mingle among the chiefs of lesser note, though far 
 from assuming the right to dispute the sentiments 
 of any established brave, or to call in question the 
 prudence of measures that were recommended by 
 the more gifted counsellors of the nation. 
 
 Among the chiefs themselves there was a sin- 
 gular compound of exterior. They were divided 
 into two classes ; those who were mainly indebted 
 for their influence to physical causes and to deeds 
 in arms, and those who had become distinguished 
 rather for their wisdom than for their services in 
 the field. The former was by far the most numer- 
 ous and the most important class. They were men 
 of stature and mien, whose stern countenances were 
 rendered doubly imposing by those evidences of 
 their valor which had been roughly traced on their 
 lineaments by the hands of their enemies. That 
 class which had gained its influence by a moral 
 ascendency was extremely limited. They were 
 uniformly to be distinguished by the quick and 
 lively expression of their eyes, by the air of distrust 
 that marked their movements, and occasionally 
 by the vehemence of their utterance in those sud- 
 den outbreakings of the mind by which their 
 present consultations were from time to time 
 distinguished. 
 
 In the very centre of a ring formed by these 
 chosen counsellors was to be seen the person 
 of the disquieted but seemingly calm Mahtoree. 
 There was a conjunction of all the several qual- 
 ities of the others in his person and character. 
 Mind as well as matter had contributed to estab- 
 lish his authority. His scars were as numerous 
 and deep as those of the whitest head in his nation ; 
 his limbs were in their greatest vigor ; his cour- 
 age at its fullest height. Endowed with this rare 
 combination of moral and physical influence, 
 keenest eye in all that assembly was wont to lower 
 before his threatening glance. Courage and cun- 
 ning had established his ascendency, and it had 
 been rendered in some degree sacred by time. He 
 knew so well how to unite the powers of reason 
 and force, that, in a state of society which admit- 
 ted of a greater display of his energies, the Teton 
 would in all probability have been both a con- 
 queror and a despot. 
 
 A little apart from the gathering of the band 
 was to be seen a set of beings of an entirely dif- 
 ferent origin. Taller and far more muscular in 
 their persons, the lingering vestiges of their Saxon 
 and Norman ancestry were yet to be found be- 
 neath the swarthy complexions v.hich had been be- 
 stowed by an American sun. It would have been 
 a curious investigation for one skilled in such an 
 inquiry, to have traced those points of difference 
 
134 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 by which the offspring of the most western Euro- 
 pean was still to be distinguished from the descend- 
 ant of the most remote Asiatic, now that the two, 
 in the revolutions of the world, were approxi- 
 mating in their habits, their residence, and not a 
 little in their characters. The group of whom we 
 write was composed of the family of the squatter. 
 They stood indolent, lounging, and inert, as usual, 
 when no immediate demand was made on their 
 dormant energies, clustered in front of some four 
 or five habitations of skin, for which they were 
 indebted to the hospitality of their Teton allies. 
 The terms of their unexpected confederation were 
 sufficiently explained by the presence of the horses 
 and domestic cattle that were quietly grazing on 
 the bottom beneath, under the jealous eyes of the 
 spirited Hetty. Their wagons were drawn about 
 the lodges in a sort of irregular barrier, which at 
 once manifested that their confidence was not 
 entirely restored, while, on the other hand, their 
 policy or indolence prevented any very positive 
 exhibition of distrust. There was a singular 
 union of passive enjoyment and of dull curiosity 
 slumbering in every dull countenance, as each of 
 the party stood leaning on his rifle, regarding the 
 movements of the Sioux conference. Still no 
 sign of expectation or interest escaped from the 
 youngest among them, the whole appearing to 
 emulate the most phlegmatic of their savage allies 
 in an exhibition of patience. They rarely spoke ; 
 and, when they did, it was in some short and con- 
 temptuous remark, which served to put the phys- 
 ical superiority of a white man and that of an 
 Indian in a sufficiently striking point of view. In 
 short, the family of Ishmael appeared now to be 
 in the plenitude of an enjoyment which depended 
 on inactivity, but which was not entirely free 
 from certain confused glimmerings of a perspec- 
 tive in which their security stood in some little 
 danger of a rude interruption from Teton treach- 
 ery. Abiram alone formed a solitary exception 
 to this state of equivocal repose. 
 
 After a life passed in the commission of a 
 thousand mean and insignificant villanies, the 
 mind of the kidnapper had become hardy enough 
 to attempt the desperate adventure which has 
 been laid before the reader in the course of the 
 narrative. His influence over the bolder but less 
 active spirit of Ishmael was far from great ; and 
 had not the latter been suddenly expelled a fer- 
 tile bottom, of which he had taken possession 
 with intent to keep it without much deference to 
 the forms of law, he would never have succeeded 
 in enlisting the husband of his sister in an enter- 
 prise that required so much decision and fore- 
 thought. Their original success and subsequent 
 
 disappointment have been seen ; and Abiram 
 now sat apart plotting the means by which he 
 might secure to himself the advantages of his un- 
 dertaking, which he perceived were each moment 
 becoming more uncertain, through the open ad- 
 miration of Mahtoree for the innocent subject of 
 his villany. We shall leave him to his vacillat- 
 ing and confused expedients, in order to pass to 
 the description of certain other personages in 
 the drama. 
 
 There was still another corner of the picture 
 that was occupied. On a little bank at the ex- 
 treme right of the encampment lay the forms of 
 Middleton and Paul. Their limbs were painfully 
 bound with thongs cut from the skin of a bison, 
 while, by a sort of refinement in cruelty, they 
 were so placed that each could see a reflection 
 of his own misery in the case of his neighbor. 
 Within a dozen yards of them a post was set 
 firmly in the ground, and against it was bound 
 the light and Apollo-like person of Hard-Heart. 
 Between the two stood the trapper, deprived of 
 his rifle, his pouch, and his horn, but otherwise 
 left in a sort of contemptuous liberty. Some 
 five or six young warriors, however, with quivers 
 at their backs and long tough bows dangling from 
 their shoulders, who stood with grave watchful- 
 ness at no great distance from the spot, suf- 
 ficiently proclaimed how fruitless any attempt to 
 escape, on the part of one so aged and so feeble, 
 might prove. Unlike the other spectators of the 
 important conference, these individuals were en- 
 gaged in a discourse that for them contained an 
 interest of its own. 
 
 “ Captain,” said the bee-hunter, with an ex- 
 pression of comical concern that no misfortune 
 could depress in one of his buoyant feelings, “ do 
 you really find that accursed strap of untanned 
 leather cutting into your shoulder, or is it only 
 the tickling in my own arm that I feel ? ” 
 
 “ When the spirit suffers so deeply, the body 
 is insensible to pain,” returned the more refined, 
 though scarcely so spirited Middleton ; “ would 
 to Heaven that some of my trusty artillerists 
 might fall upon this accursed encampment ! ” 
 
 “ You might as well wish that these Teton 
 lodges were so many hives of hornets, and that 
 the insects would come forth and battle with yon- 
 der tribe of half-naked savages.” Then, chuck- 
 ling with his own conceit, the bee-hunter turned 
 away from his companion, and sought a moment- 
 ary relief from his misery by imagining that so 
 wild an idea might be realized, and fancying the 
 manner in which the attack would upset even the 
 well-established patience of an Indian. 
 
 Middleton was glad to be silent *. but the old 
 
THE INDIANS IN COUNCIL. 
 
 135 
 
 man, who had listened to their words, drew a lit- 
 tle nigher, and continued the discourse. 
 
 “ Here is likely to be a merciless and a hellish 
 business ! ” he said, shaking his head in a manner 
 to prove that even his experience was at a loss 
 for a remedy in so trying a dilemma. “ Our 
 Pawnee friend is already staked for the torture, 
 and I well know, by the eye and the countenance 
 of the great Sioux, that he is leading on the tem- 
 per of his people to further enormities.” 
 
 “ Harkee, old trapper,” said Paul, writhing in 
 his bonds to catch a glimpse of the other’s melan- 
 choly face ; “ you ar’ skilled in Indian tongues 
 and know somewhat of Indian devilti’ies. Go you 
 to the council, and tell their chiefs in my name, 
 that is to say, in the name of Paul Hover, of the 
 State of Kentucky, that provided they will guar- 
 antee the safe return of one Ellen Wade into the 
 States, they are welcome to take his scalp when 
 and in such manner as best suits their amuse- 
 ments ; or, if so be they will not trade on these 
 conditions, you may throw in an hour or two of 
 torture beforehand, in order to sweeten the bar- 
 gain to their damnable appetites.” 
 
 “Ah! lad, it is little they would hearken to 
 such an offer, knowing, as they do, that you are 
 already like a bear in a trap, as little able to fight 
 as to fly. But be not downhearted, for the color J 
 of a white man is sometimes his death-warrant 1 
 among these far tribes of savages, and sometimes 
 his shield. Though they love us not, cunning of- 
 ten ties their hands. Could the red nations work 
 their will, trees would shortly be growing again 
 on the ploughed fields of America, and woods 
 would be whitened with Christian bones. No one 
 can doubt that, who knows the quality of the | 
 love which a red-skin bears a pale-face ; but they 
 have counted our numbers until their memories 
 fail them, and they are not without their policy. 
 Therefore is our fate unsettled ; but I fear me 
 there is small hope left for the Pawnee ! ” 
 
 As the old man concluded, he walked slowly 
 toward the subject of his latter observation, tak- 
 ing his post at no great distance from his side. 
 Hei'e he stood, observing such a silence and mien 
 as became him to manifest, to a chief so renowned 
 and so situated as his captive associate. But the j 
 eye of Hard-Heart was fastened on the distance, 
 and his whole air was that of one whose thoughts 
 were entirely removed from the present scene. 
 
 '■ The Siouxes are in council on my brother,” 
 the trapper at length observed, when he found he 
 could only attract the other’s attention by speak- 
 ing. 
 
 The young partisan turned his head with a 
 calm smile as he answered : 
 
 “ They are counting the scalps over the lodge 
 of Hard-Heart ! ” 
 
 “No doubt, no doubt; their tempers begin to 
 mount, as they remember the number of Tetons 
 you have struck, and better would it be for you 
 now, had more of your days been spent in chas- 
 ing the deer, and fewer on the war-path. Then 
 some childless mother of this tribe might take 
 you in the place of her lost son, and your time 
 would be filled in peace.” 
 
 “ Does my father think that a warrior can 
 ever die ? The Master of Life does not open his 
 hand to take away his gifts again. When he 
 wants his young men he calls them, and they go. 
 But the red-skin he has once breathed on lives 
 forever.” 
 
 “ Ay, this is a more comfortable and a more 
 humble faith than that which yonder heartless 
 Teton harbors ! There is something in these 
 Loups which opens my inmost heart to them; 
 they seem to have the courage, ay, and the hon- 
 esty, too, of the Delawares of the hills. And 
 this lad — it is wonderful, it is very wonderful ; 
 but the age, and the eye, and the limbs, are as if 
 they might have been brothers ! Tell me, Paw- 
 nee, have you ever in your traditions heard of a 
 mighty people who once lived on the shores of the 
 Salt-lake, hard by the rising sun ? ” 
 
 “ The earth is white, by people of the color 
 of my father.” 
 
 “Nay, nay, I speak not now of any strollers 
 w r ho have crept into the land to rob the lawful 
 owners of their birthright, but of a people who 
 are, or rather were, what with nature and what 
 with paint, red as the berry on the bush.” 
 
 “ I have heard the old men say that there 
 were bands who hid themselves in the woods un- 
 der the rising sun, because they dared not come 
 upon the open prairies to fight with men.” 
 
 “Do not your traditions tell you of the great- 
 est, the bravest, and the wisest nation of red-skins 
 that the Wahcondah has ever breathed upon ? ” 
 
 Hard-Heart raised his head, with a loftiness 
 and dignity that even his bonds could not repress, 
 as he answered : 
 
 “Has age blinded my father; or does he see 
 so many Siouxes that he believes there are no 
 longer any Pawnees ? ” 
 
 “ Ah ! such is mortal vanity and pride ! ” ex- 
 claimed the disappointed qjd man, in English; 
 “ Natur’ is as strong in a red-skin as in the bosom 
 of a man of white gifts. Now would a Delaware 
 conceit himself far mightier than a Pawnee, just 
 as a Pawnee boasts himself to be of the princes 
 of the ’arth. And so it was atween the French- 
 ers of the Canadas and the red-coated English, 
 
136 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 that the king did use to send into the States, 
 when States they were not, but outcrying 
 and petitioning provinces ; they fou’t and they 
 fou’t, and what marvellous boastings did they give 
 forth to the world of their own valor and victories, 
 while both parties forgot to name the humble sol- 
 dier of the land who did the real service, but who, 
 as he was not privileged then to smoke at the 
 great council-fire, of his nation, seldom heard of 
 his deeds, after they were once bravely done.” 
 
 When the old man had thus given vent to the , 
 nearly dormant but far from extinct military pride 
 that had so unconsciously led him into the very 
 error he deprecated, his eye, which had begun to 
 quicken and glimmer with some of the ardor of 
 his youth, softened and turned its anxious look 
 on the devoted captive, whose countenance was 
 also restored to its former cold look of abstraction 
 and thought. 
 
 “ Young warrior,” he continued, in a voice 
 -that was growing tremulous, “ I have never been fa- 
 ther or brother. The Wahcondah made me to live 
 alone. He never tied my heart to house or field, 
 by the cords with which the men of my race are 
 bound to their lodges; if he had, I should not 
 have journeyed so far, and seen so much. But I 
 have tarried long among a people who lived in 
 those woods you mention, and much reason did I 
 find to imitate their courage and love their hon- 
 esty. The Master of Life has made us all, Pawnee, , 
 with a feeling for our kind. I never was a father, 
 but well do I know what is the love of one. You 
 are like a lad I valued, and I had even begun to 
 fancy that some of his blood might be in your 
 veins. But what matters that ? You are a true 
 man, as I know by the way in which you keep 
 your faith; and honesty is a gift too rare to be 
 forgotten. My heart yearns to you, boy, and glad- 
 ly would I do you good.” 
 
 The youthful warrior listened to the words 
 which came from the lips of the other with a force 
 and simplicity that established their truth, and he 
 bowed his head on his naked bosom, in testimony 
 of the respect with which he met the proffer. 
 Then, lifting his dark eye to the level of the view, 
 he seemed to be again considering of things re- 
 moved from every personal consideration. The 
 Wrapper, who well knew how high the pride of a 
 warrior would sustain him, in those moments he 
 believed to be his last, awaited the pleasure of 
 hia young friend, witli a meekness and patience 
 Lhat he had acquired by his association with that 
 'emarkable race. At length the gaze of the Paw- 
 nee began to waver; and then quick, flashing 
 glances were turned from the countenance of the 
 old man to the air, and from the air to his deeply- 
 
 marked lineaments again, as if the spirit, whicft 
 governed their movements, was beginning to be 
 troubled. 
 
 “ Father,” the young brave finally answered, 
 in a voice of confidence and kindness, “I have 
 heard your words. They have gone in at my 
 ears, and are now within me. The white-headed 
 Long-knife has no son ; the Hard-Heart of the Paw- 
 nees is young, but he is already the oldest of his 
 family. He found the bones of his father on the 
 i hunting-ground of the Osages, and he has sent 
 them to the prairies of the Good Spirits. No 
 doubt the great chief, his father, has seen them, 
 and knows what is a part of himself. But the 
 Wahcondah will soon call to us both; you, be- 
 cause you have seen all that is to be seen in this 
 country ; and Hard-Heart, because he has need of 
 a warrior who is young. There is no time for 
 the Pawnee to show the pale-face the duty that a 
 son owes to his father.” 
 
 “ Old as I am, and miserable and helpless as 
 I now stand, to what I once was, I may live to see 
 the sun go down in the prairie. Does my son 
 expect to do as much ? ” 
 
 “ The Tetons are counting the scalps on my 
 lodge ! ” returned the young chief, with a smila 
 whose melancholy was singularly illuminated by 
 a gleam of triumph. 
 
 “And they find them many — too many for 
 the safety of its owner, while he is in their 
 revengeful hands. My son is not a woman, and 
 he looks on the path he is about to travel with a 
 steady eye. Has he nothing to whisper in the 
 ears of his people before he starts ? These legs 
 are old, but they may yet carry me to the forks 
 of the Loup River.” 
 
 “ Tell them that Hard-Heart has tied a knot in 
 his wampum for every Teton ! ” burst from the 
 lips of the captive, with that vehemence with 
 which sudden passion is known to break through 
 the barriers of artificial restraint ; “ if he meets 
 one of them all in the prairies of the Master of 
 Life his heart will become Sioux ! ” 
 
 “ Ah ! that feeling would be a dangerous com- 
 panion for a man with white gifts to start with on 
 so solemn a journey,” muttered the old man in 
 English. “ This is not what the good Moravians 
 said to the councils of the Delawares, nor what 
 is so often preached to the white-skins in the 
 settlements, though, to the shame of the color be 
 it said, it is .so little heeded. — Pawnee, I love you ; 
 but, being a Christian man, I cannot be the run- 
 ner to bear such a message.” 
 
 “ If my father is afraid the Tetons will hear 
 him, let him whisper it softly to our old men.” 
 
 “ As for fear, young warrior, it is no more the 
 
HARD-HEART AND THE TRAPPER. 
 
 137 
 
 shame of a pale face than of a red-skin. The 
 Wakcondak teaches us to love the life he gives ; 
 out it is as men love their hunts, and their dogs, 
 and their carabines, and not with the doating that 
 a mother looks upon her infant. The Master of 
 Life will not have to speak aloud twice when he 
 calls my name. Iam as ready to answer to it 
 now as I shall be to-morrow, or at any time it may 
 please his mighty will. But what is a warrior 
 without his traditions ? Mine forbid me to carry 
 your words.” 
 
 The chief made a dignified motion of assent, 
 and here there was great danger that those feel- 
 ings of confidence which had been so singularly 
 awakened, would as suddenly subside. But the 
 heart of the old man had been too sensibly touched, 
 through long dormant but still living recollections, 
 to break off the communication so rudely. He 
 pondered for a minute, and then, bending his look 
 wistfully on his young associate, again contin- 
 ued : 
 
 “ Each warrior must be judged by his gifts. 
 I have told my son what I cannot, but let him 
 open his ears to what I can do. An elk shall not 
 measure the prairie much swifter than these old 
 legs, if the Pawnee will give me a message that a 
 white man may bear.” 
 
 “ Let the pale-face listen,” returned the other, 
 after hesitating a single instant longer, under a 
 lingering sensation of his former disappointment. 
 “ He will stay here till the Siouxes have done 
 counting the scalps of their dead warriors. He 
 will wait until they have tried to cover the heads 
 of eighteen Tetons with the skin of one Pawnee ; 
 he will open his eyes wide, that he may see the 
 place where they bury the bones of a warrior.” 
 
 “ All this will I, and may I, do, noble boy.” 
 
 “ He will mark the spot, that he may know 
 it.” 
 
 “ No fear, no fear that I shall forget the place,” 
 interrupted the other, whose fortitude began to 
 give way under so frying an exhibition of calmness 
 and resignation, 
 
 “ Then I know that my father will go to my 
 people. His head is gray, and his words will not 
 be blown away with the smoke. Let him get on 
 my lodge, and call the name of Hard-Heart aloud. 
 No Pawnee will be deaf. Then let my father ask 
 for the colt that has never been ridden, but which 
 is sleeker than the buck, and swifter than the 
 elk.” 
 
 “ I understand you, boy, I understand you,” 
 interrupted the attentive old man; “and what 
 you say shall be done, ay, and well done too, or 
 I’m but little skilled in the wishes of a dying 
 Indian.” 
 
 61 
 
 “And when my young men have given mj 
 father the halter of that colt, he will lead him by 
 a crooked path to the grave of Hard-Heart ? ” 
 
 “ Will I ! ay, that I will, brave youth, though 
 the winter covers these, plains in banks of snow, 
 and the sun is hidden as much by day as by night. 
 To the head of the holy spot will I lead the beast, 
 and place him with his eyes looking toward the 
 setting sun.” 
 
 “And my father will speak to him, and tell 
 him that the master who has fed him since he was 
 foaled has now need of him.” 
 
 “ That, too, will I do ; though the Lord he 
 knows that I shall hold discourse with a horse, 
 not with any vain conceit that my words will be 
 understood, but only to satisfy the cravings of 
 Indian superstition. — Hector, my pup, what think 
 you, dog, of talking to a horse ? ” 
 
 “ Let the gray-beard speak to him with the 
 tongue of a Pawnee,” interrupted the young vic- 
 tim, perceiving that his companion had used an 
 unknown language for the preceding speech. 
 
 “ My son’s will shall be done. And with 
 these old hands, which I had hoped had nearly 
 done with bloodshed, whether it be of man or 
 beast, will I slay the animal on your grave ! ” 
 
 “ It is good,” returned the other, a gleam of 
 satisfaction flitting across his features. “Hard- 
 Heart will ride his horse to the blessed prairies, 
 and he will come before the Master of Life like a 
 chief!” 
 
 The sudden and striking change which instant- 
 ly occurred in the countenance of the Indian, 
 caused the trapper to look aside, when he per- 
 ceived that the conference of the Sioux had 
 ended, and that Mahtoree, attended by one or 
 two of the principal warriors, was deliberately 
 approaching his intended victim. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 “ I am not prone to weeping, as our sex 
 Commonly are. . . . 
 
 “ — But I have that honorable 
 Grief lodged here, which burns worse than 
 Tears drown.” 
 
 SnAKESPEABE. 
 
 When within twenty feet of the prisoners, the 
 Tetons stopped, and their leader made a sign to 
 the old man to draw nigh. The trapper obeyed, 
 quitting the young Pawnee with a significant look, 
 which was received, as it was meant, for an ad- 
 ditional pledge that he would never forget his 
 promise. So soon as Mahtoree found that the 
 
138 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 other had stopped within reach of him, he 
 stretched forth his arm, and, laying a hand upon 
 the shoulder of the attentive old man, he stood 
 regarding him a minute, with eyes that seemed 
 willing to penetrate the recesses of his most se- 
 cret thoughts. 
 
 “ Is a pale-face always made with two 
 tongues ? ” he demanded, when he found that, as 
 usual with the subject of this examination, he 
 was as little intimidated by his present frown, as 
 moved by any apprehensions of the future. 
 
 “ Honesty lies deeper than the skin.” 
 
 “ It is so. Now let my father hear me. Mah- 
 toree has but one tongue, the gray-head has many. 
 They may be all straight, and none of them 
 forked. A Sioux is no more than a Sioux, but a 
 pale-face is every thing ! He can talk to the Paw- 
 nee, and the Konza, and the Omahaw, and he can 
 talk to his own people.” 
 
 “ Ay, there are linguistcrs in the settlements 
 that can do still more. But what profits it all ? 
 The Master of Life has an ear for every lan- 
 guage ! ” 
 
 “ The gray-head has done wrong. He has 
 said one thing when he meant another. He has 
 looked before him with his eyes, and behind him 
 with his mind. He has ridden the horse of a 
 Sioux too hard ; he has been the friend of a Paw- 
 nee, and the enemy of my people.” 
 
 “ Teton, I am your prisoner Though my 
 words are white, they will not complain. Act 
 y.our will.” 
 
 “ No. Hahtoree will not make a white hair 
 red. My father is free. The prairie is open on 
 every side of him. But before the gray-head 
 turns his back on the Siouxes, let him look well 
 at them, that he may tell his own chief how 
 great is a Dahcotah ! ” 
 
 “ I am not in a hurry to go on my path. You 
 see a man with a white head, and no woman, 
 Teton ; therefore shall I not run myself out of 
 breath, to tell the nations of the prairies what 
 the Siouxes are doing.” 
 
 “ It is good. My father has smoked with the 
 chiefs at many councils,” returned Mahtoree, who 
 now thought himself sufficiently sure of the 
 other’s favor to go more directly to his object. 
 “ Mahtoree will speak with the tongue of his very 
 dear friend and father. A young pale-face will 
 listen when an old man of that nation opens his 
 mouth. Go ; my father will make what a poor 
 Indian says fit for a white ear.” 
 
 “ Speak aloud ! ” said the trapper, who readi- 
 ly understood the metaphorical manner in which 
 the Teton expressed a desire that he should be- 
 come an interpreter 1 of his words into the English 
 
 language ; “ speak ; my young men listen. — Now 
 captain, and you too, friend bee-hunter, prepara 
 yourselves to meet the deviltries of this savage 
 with the stout hearts of white warriors. If you 
 find yourselves giving way under his threats, just 
 turn your eyes on that noble-looking Pawnee, 
 whose time is measured with a hand as niggardly 
 as that with which a trader in the towns gives 
 forth the fruits of the Lord, inch by inch, in 
 order to satisfy his covetousness. A single look 
 at the boy will set you both up in resolution.” 
 
 “ My brother has turned his eyes on the wrong 
 path,” interrupted Mahtoree, with a complacency 
 that betrayed how unwilling he was to offend his 
 intended interpreter. 
 
 “ The Dahcotah will speak to my young 
 men ? ” 
 
 “ After he has sung in the ear of the flower 
 of the pale-faces.” 
 
 “ The Lord forgive the desperate villain ! ” ex- 
 claimed the old man, in English. “There are 
 none so tender, or so young, or so innocent, as 
 to escape his ravenous wishes. But hard words 
 and cold looks will profit nothing ; therefore it 
 will be wise to speak him fair. — Let Mahtoree 
 open his mouth.” 
 
 “ Would my father cry out that the women 
 and children should hear the wisdom of chiefs? 
 We will go into the lodge, and whisper.” 
 
 As the Teton ended, he pointed significantly 
 toward a tent, vividly emblazoned with the history 
 of one of his own boldest and most commended 
 exploits, and which stood a little apart from the 
 rest, as if to denote it was the residence of some 
 privileged individual of the band. The shield 
 and quiver at its entrance were richer than com- 
 mon, and the high distinction of a fusee attested 
 the importance of its proprietor. In every other 
 particular it was rather distinguished by signs of 
 poverty than of wealth. The domestic utensils 
 were fewer in number and simpler in their forms 
 than those to be seen about the openings of the 
 meanest lodges, nor was there a single one of 
 those highly-prized articles of civilized life, which 
 were occasionally bought of the traders, in bar- 
 gains that bore so hard on the ignorant natives. 
 All these had been bestowed, as they had been 
 acquired, by the generous chief, on his subordi- 
 nates, to purchase an influence that might render 
 him the master of their lives and persons ; a 
 species of wealth that was certainly more noble 
 in itself, and far dearer to his ambition. 
 
 The old man well knew this to be the lodge 
 of Mahtoree, and, in obedience to the Sign of 
 the chief, he held his way toward it with slow 
 and reluctant steps. But there were others pres- 
 
PAUL HOVERS CURSE. 
 
 139 
 
 ent who were equally interested in the approach- 
 ing conference, whose apprehensions were not to 
 be so easily suppressed. The watchful eyes and 
 jealous ears of Middleton had taught him enough 
 to fill his soul with horrible forebodings. With 
 an incredible effort he succeeded in gaining his 
 feet, and called aloud to the retiring trapper : 
 
 “I conjure you, old man, if the love you bore 
 my parents was more than words, or if the love 
 you bear your God is that of a Christian man, 
 utter not a syllable that may wound the ear of 
 that innocent — ” 
 
 Exhausted in spirit and fettered in limbs, he 
 then fell like an animate log to the earth, where 
 he lay like one dead. 
 
 Paul had, however, caught the clew, and com- 
 pleted the exhortation in his peculiar manner : 
 
 “ Harkee, old trapper,” he shouted, vainly en- 
 deavoring at the same time to make a gesture of 
 defiance with his hand ; “ if you ar’ about to play 
 the interpreter, speak such words to the ears of 
 that damnable savage as becomes a white man 
 to use and a heathen to hear. Tell him, from 
 me, that if he does or says the thing that is un- 
 civil to the girl called Nelly Wade, that I’ll curse 
 him with my dying breath ; that I’ll pray for all 
 good Christians in Kentucky to curse him ; sitting 
 and standing ; eating and drinking ; fighting, pray- 
 ing, or at horse-races ; in-doors and out-doors ; 
 in summer or winter, or in the month of March ; 
 in short, I’ll — ay, it ar’ a fact, morally true — I’ll 
 haunt him, if the ghost of a pale-face can con- 
 trive to lift itself from a grave made by the hands 
 of a red-skin ! ” 
 
 Having thus ventured the most terrible de- 
 nunciation he could devise, and the one which, in 
 the eyes of the honest bee-hunter, there seemed 
 the greatest likelihood of his being able to put in 
 execution, he was obliged to await the fruits of 
 hisi threat with that resignation which would be 
 apt to govern a Western borderman who, in addi- 
 tion to the prospects just named, had the advan- 
 tage of contemplating them in fetters and bond- 
 age. We shall not detain the narrative to relate 
 the quaint morals with which he next endeavored 
 to cheer the drooping spirits of his more sensi- 
 tive companion, or the occasional pithy and pecul- 
 iar benedictions that he pronounced on all the 
 bands of the Dahcotahs, commencing with those 
 whom he accused of stealing or murdering, on 
 the banks, of the distant Mississippi, and conclud- 
 ing, in terms of suitable energy, with the Teton 
 tribe. The latter more than once received from 
 his lips curses as sententious and as complicated 
 as that celebrated anathema of the Church, for 
 a knowledge of which most unlettered Protestants 
 
 are indebted to the pious researches of the worthy 
 Tristram Shandy. But as Middleton recovered 
 from his exhaustion, he was fain to appease the 
 boisterous temper of his associate, by admonish- 
 ing him of the uselessness of such denunciations, 
 and of the possibility of their hastening the very 
 evil he deprecated, by irritating the resentments 
 of a race who were sufficiently fierce and lawless, 
 even in their most pacific moods. 
 
 In the mean time the trapper and the Sioux 
 chief pursued their way to the lodge. The former 
 had watched with painful interest the expression 
 of Mahtoree’s eye, while the words of Middleton 
 and Paul were pursuing their footsteps ; but the 
 mien of the Indian was far too much restrained 
 and self-guarded to permit the smallest of his 
 emotions to escape through any of those ordinary 
 outlets by which the condition of the human 
 volcano is commonly betrayed. His look was 
 fastened on the little habitation they approached ; 
 and, for the moment, his thoughts appeared to 
 brood alone on the purposes of this extraordinary 
 visit. 
 
 The appearance of the interior of the lodge 
 corresponded with its exterior. It was larger 
 than most of the others, more finished in its form, 
 and finer in its materials ; but there its superiority 
 ceased. Nothing could be more simple and 
 republican than the form of living that the ambi- 
 tious and powerful Teton chose to exhibit to the 
 eyes of his people. A choice collection of w'eap- 
 ons for the chase, and three or four medals, be- 
 stowed by the traders and political agents of the 
 Canadas as a homage to, or rather as an ac- 
 knowledgment of, his rank, with a few &f the most 
 indispensable articles of personal accommodation, 
 composed its furniture. It abounded in neither 
 venison nor the wild-beef of the prairies; its 
 crafty owner having well understood that the 
 liberality of a single individual would be abun- 
 dantly rewarded by the daily contributions of a 
 band. Although as preeminent in the chase as 
 in war, a deer or a buflalo was never seen to enter 
 whole into his lodge. In return, an animal was 
 rarely brought into the encampment, that did not 
 contribute to support the family of Mahtoree. 
 But the policy of the chief seldom permitted more 
 to remain than sufficed for the wants of the day, 
 perfectly assured that all must suffer before hun- 
 ger, the bane of savage life, could lay its fell fangs 
 on so important a victim. 
 
 Immediately beneath the favorite bow of the 
 chief, and encircled in a sort of magical ring of 
 spears, shields, lances, and arrows, all of which 
 had in their time done good service, was suspended 
 the mysterious and sacred medicine-bag. It was 
 
i40 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 highly wrought in wampum, and profusely orna- 
 mented with beads and poncupines’ quills, after 
 the most cunning devices of Indian ingenuity. 
 The peculiar freedom of Mahtoree’s religious creed 
 has been more than once intimated, and, by a sin- 
 gular species of contradiction, he appeared to 
 have lavished his attentions on this emblem of a 
 supernatural agency in a degree that was precisely 
 inverse to his faith. It was merely the manner in 
 which the Sioux imitated the well-known expe- 
 dient of the Pharisees, “ in order that they might 
 be seen of men.” 
 
 The tent had not, however, been entered by 
 its owner since his return from the recent expedi- 
 tion. As the reader has already anticipated, it 
 had been made the prison of Inez and Ellen. The 
 bride of Middleton was seated on a simple couch 
 of sweet-scented herbs covered with skins. She 
 had already suffered so much, and witnessed so 
 many wild and unlooked-for events, within the 
 short space of her captivity, that every additional 
 misfortune fell with a diminished force on her seem- 
 ingly devoted head. Her cheeks were bloodless, 
 her dark and usually animated eye was contracted 
 in an expression of settled concern, and her form 
 appeared shrinking and sensitive, nearly to extinc- 
 tion. But, in the midst of these evidences of 
 natural weakness, there were at times such an 
 air of pious resignation, such gleams of meek but 
 holy hope lighting her countenance, as might well 
 have rendered it a question whether the hapless 
 captive was most a subject of pity or of admira- 
 tion. All the precepts of Father Ignatius were 
 riveted in her faithful memory, and not a few of 
 his pious visions were floating before her imagi- 
 nation. Sustained by so sacred resolutions, the 
 mild, the patient, and the confiding girl was bow- 
 ing her head to this new stroke of Providence, 
 with the same sort of meekness as she would have 
 submitted to any other prescribed penitence for 
 her sins, though Nature, at moments, warred 
 powerfully with so compelled a humility. 
 
 On the other hand, Ellen had exhibited far 
 more of the woman, and consequently of the pas- 
 sions of the world. She had wept until her eyes 
 were swollen and red. Her cheeks were flushed 
 and angry, and her whole mien was distinguished 
 by an air of spirit and resentment, that was not 
 a little, however, qualified by apprehensions for 
 the future. In short, there was that about the 
 eye and step of the betrothed of Paul, which gave 
 a warranty that, should happier times arrive, and 
 the constancy of the bee-hunter finally meet with 
 Its reward, he would possess a partner every way 
 worthy to cope with his own thoughtless and 
 buoyant temperament. 
 
 There was still another and a third figvre in 
 that little knot of females. It was the youngest 
 the most highly-gifted, and, until now, the most 
 favored of the wives of the Teton. Her charms 
 had not been without the most powerful attrac- 
 tion in the eyes of her husband, until they had so 
 unexpectedly opened on the surpassing loveliness 
 of a woman of the pale-faces. From that hapless 
 moment the graces, the attachment, the fidelity 
 of the young Indian, had lost their power to 
 please. Still the complexion of Tachecliaha, 
 though less dazzling than that of her rival, was, 
 for her rade, clear and healthy. Her hazel eye 
 had the sweetness and playfulness of the ante- 
 lope’s ; her voice was soft and joyous as the song 
 of the wren, and her happy laugh was the very 
 melody of the forest. Of all the Sioux girls, 
 Tachechana (or the fawn) was the lightest-hearted 
 and the most envied. Her father liad been a dis- 
 tinguished brave, and her brothers had already 
 left their bones in a distant and dreary war-path. 
 Numberless were the warriors who had sent pres- 
 ents to the lodge of her parents, but none of 
 them were listened to until a messenger from the 
 great Mahtoree had come. She was his third 
 wife, it is true, but she was confessedly the most 
 favored of them all. Their union had existed but 
 two short seasons, and its fruits now lay sleeping 
 at her feet, wrapped in the customary ligatures 
 of skin and bark, which form the swaddlings of 
 an Indian infant. 
 
 At the moment when Mahtoree and the trap- 
 per arrived at the opening of the lodge, the young 
 Sioux wife was seated on a simple stool, turning 
 her soft eyes with looks that varied, like her emo- 
 tions, with love and wonder, frOm the unconscious 
 child to those rare beings who had filled her youth- 
 ful and uninstructed mind with so much admira- 
 tion and astonishment. Though Inez and Ellen 
 had passed an entire day in her sight, it seemed 
 as if the longings of her curiosity were increasing 
 with each new gaze. She regarded them as be- 
 ings of an entirely different nature and condition 
 from the females of the prairie. Even the mys- 
 tery of their complicated attire had its secret in- 
 fluence on her simple mind, though it was the 
 grace and charms of sex, to which Nature has 
 made every people so sensible, that most attracted 
 her admiration. But while her ingenuous disposi- 
 tion freely admitted the superiority of the strangers 
 over the less brilliant attractions of the Dahcotah 
 maidens, she had seen no reason to deprecate 
 their advantages. The visit that she was now 
 about to receive was the first which her husband 
 had made to the tent since his return from the 
 recent inroad, and he was ever present to hei 
 
MAHTOREE AND HIS FAVORITE WIFE. 
 
 141 
 
 thoughts as a successful warrior, who was not 
 ashamed in the moments of inaction to admit the 
 softer feelings of a father and a husband. 
 
 We have everywhere endeavored to show 
 that while Mahtoree was in all essentials a warrior 
 of the prairies, he was much in advance of his 
 people in those acquirements which announce tho 
 dawnings of civilization. He had held frequent 
 communion with the traders and troops of the 
 Canadas, and the intercourse had unsettled many 
 of those wild opinions which were his birthright, 
 without perhaps substituting any others of a na- 
 ture sufficiently definite to be profitable. His 
 reasoning was rather subtle than true, and his 
 philosophy far more audacious than profound. 
 Like thousands of more enlightened beings who 
 fancy they are able to go through the trials of hu- 
 man existence without any other support than 
 their own resolutions, his morals were accommo- 
 dating and his motives selfish. These several 
 characteristics will be understood always with 
 reference to the situation of the Indian, though 
 little apology is needed for finding resemblances 
 between men who essentially possess the same 
 nature, however it may be modified by circum- 
 stances. 
 
 Notwithstanding the presence of Inez and El- 
 len, the entrance of the Teton warrior into the 
 lodge of his favorite wife was made with the tread 
 and mien of a master. The step of his moccasin 
 was noiseless, but the rattling of his bracelets and 
 of the silver ornaments of his leggings, .sufficed to 
 announce his approach as he pushed aside the 
 ikin covering of the opening of the tent, and 
 stood in the presence of its inmates. A faint cry 
 ot pleasure burst from the lips of Tachechana in 
 the suddenness of her surprise, but the emotion 
 was instantly suppressed in that subdued demean- 
 or which should characterize a matron of her 
 tribe. Instead of returning the stolen glance of 
 his youthful and secretly- rejoicing wife, Mahtoree 
 moved to the couch occupied by his prisoners, and 
 placed himself in the haughty, upright attitude of 
 an Indian chief before their eyes. The old man 
 had glided past him and already taken q, position 
 suited to the office he had been commanded to fill. 
 
 Surprise kept the females silent and nearly 
 breathless. Though accustomed to the sight 
 of savage warriors in the horrid panoply of their 
 terrible profession, there was something so star- 
 tling in the entrance, and so audacious in the inex- 
 plicable look of their conqueror, that the eyes of 
 both sank to the earth under a feeling of terror 
 and embarrassment. Then Inez recovered her- 
 self, and. addressing the traDDer she demanded, 
 with the dignity of an offended gentlewoman. 
 
 though with her accustomed grace, to what cir- 
 cumstance they owed this extraordinary and un- 
 expected visit. The old man hesitated ; but, clear- 
 ing his throat like one who was about to make an 
 effort to which he was little used, he ventured on 
 the following reply : 
 
 “ Lady,” he said, “ a savage is a savage, and 
 you are not to look for the uses and formalities 
 ©f the settlements on a bleak and windy prairie. 
 As these Indians would say, fashions and courte- 
 sies are things so light that they would blow away. 
 As for myself, though a man of the forest, I have 
 seen the ways of the great in my time, and I am 
 not to learn that they differ from the ways of the 
 lowly. I was long a serving-man in my youth, 
 not one of your beck-and-nod runners about a 
 household, but a man that went through the ser- 
 vitude of the forest with his officer, and well do I 
 know in what manner to approach the wife of a 
 captain. Now, had I the ordering of this visit, I 
 would first have hemmed aloud at the door in or- 
 der that you might hear that strangers were com- 
 ing, and then I — ” 
 
 “ The manner is indifferent,” interrupted Inez, 
 too anxious to await the prolix explanations of 
 the old man ; “’why is this visit made ? ” 
 
 “Therein shall the savage speak for him- 
 self. — The daughters of the pale-faces wish to 
 know why the great Teton has come into his 
 lodge ? ” 
 
 Mahtoree regarded his interrogator with a 
 surprise which showed how extraordinary hfe 
 deemed the question. Then placing himself in a 
 posture of condescension, after a moment’s delay, 
 he answered : 
 
 “ Sing in the ears of the dark-eye. Tell her 
 the lodge of Mahtoree is very large, and that it 
 is not full. She shall find room in it, and none 
 shall be greater than she. Tell the light-hair that 
 she too may stay in the lodge of a brave, and eat 
 of his venison. Mahtoree is a great chief. His 
 hand is never shut.” 
 
 “Teton,” returned the trapper, shaking his 
 head in evidence of the strong disapprobation with 
 which he heard this language, “ the tongue of a 
 red-skin must be colored white, before it can 
 make music in the ears of a pale-face. Should 
 your words be spoken, my daughters would shut 
 their ears, and Mahtoree would seem a trader to 
 their eyes. Now, listen to what comes from a 
 gray head, and then speak accordingly. My peo- 
 ple is a mighty people. The sun rises on their 
 eastern and sets on their western border. The 
 land is filled with bright-eyed and laughing girls, 
 like these you see — ay, Teton, I tell no lie,” ob- 
 I serving his auditor to start with an air of distrust 
 
142 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 — “ bright eyed and pleasant to behold, as these 
 before you.” 
 
 “ Has my father a hundred wives ? ” inter- 
 rupted the savage, laying his finger on the shoul- 
 der of the trapper, with a look of curious interest 
 in the reply. 
 
 “ No, Dahcotah. The Master of Life has said 
 to me, Live alone ; your lodge shall be the forest ; 
 the roof of your wigwam, the clouds. But, though 
 never bound in the secret faith which, in my 
 nation, ties one man to one woman, often have 
 I seen the workings of that kindness which brings 
 the two together. Go into the regions of my peo- 
 ple ; you will see the daughters of the land flut- 
 tering through the towns like many-colored and 
 joyful birds in the season of blossoms. You will 
 meet them singing and rejoicing along the great 
 paths of the country, and you will hear the woods 
 ringing with their laughter. They are very excel- 
 lent to behold, and the young men find pleasure 
 in looking at them.” 
 
 “ Hugh 1” ejaculated the attentive Mahtoree. 
 
 “ Ay, well may you put faith in what you hear, 
 for it is no lie. But when a youth has found a 
 maiden to please him, he speaks to her in a 
 voice so soft that none else can hear. He does 
 not say, My lodge is empty and there is room for 
 another; but, Shall I build, and will the virgin 
 show me near what spring she would dwell ? His 
 voice is sweeter than honey from the locust, and 
 goes into the ear thrilling like the song of a wren. 
 Therefore, if my brother wishes his words to be 
 heard, he must speak with a white tongue.” 
 
 Mahtoree pondered deeply, and in a manner 
 that he did not attempt to conceal. It was re- 
 versing all the order of society, and, according to 
 his established opinions, endangering the dignity 
 of a chief for a warrior thus to humble himself 
 before a woman. But as Inez sat before him, re- 
 served and imposing in air, utterly unconscious of 
 his object, and least of all suspecting the true 
 purport of so extraordinary a visit, the savage 
 felt the influence of a manner to which he was 
 unaccustomed. Bowing his head in acknowledg- 
 ment of his error, he stepped a little back, and, 
 placing himself in an attitude of easy dignity, he 
 began to speak with the confidence of one who 
 had been no less distinguished for eloquence than 
 for deeds in arms. Keeping his eyes riveted on 
 the unconscious bride of Middleton, he proceeded 
 in the following words : 
 
 “I am a red-skin, but my eyes are dark. They 
 have been open since many snows. They have 
 seen many things — they know a brave from a cow- 
 ard. When a boy, I saw nothing but the bison 
 and the deer. I went to the bunts, and I saw 
 
 i the cougar and the bear. This made Mahtoree 
 a man. He talked with his mother no more. Hia 
 ears were open to the wisdom of the old men. 
 They told him every thing— they told him of the 
 Big-knives. He went on the war-path. He was 
 then the last — now he is the first. What Dahco- 
 tah dare say he will go before Mahtoree into the 
 hunting-grounds of the Pawnees ? The chiefs met 
 him at their doors, and they said, My son is with- 
 out a home. They gave him their lodges, they 
 gave him their riches, and they gave him their 
 daughters. Then Mahtoree became a chief, as his 
 fathers had been. He struck the warriors of all the 
 nations, and he could have chosen wives from the 
 Pawnees, the Omahaws, and the Konzas : but he 
 looked at the hunting-grounds, and not at his vil- 
 lage. He thought a horse was pleasanter than a 
 Dahcotah girl. But he found a flower on the 
 prairies, and he plucked it and brought it into his 
 lodge. He forgets that he is the master of a single 
 horse. He gives them all to the stranger, for 
 Mahtoree is not a thief; he will only keep the 
 flower he found on the prairie. Her feet are very 
 tender. She cannot walk to the door of her fa- 
 ther ; she will stay in the lodge of a valiant war- 
 rior forever.” 
 
 When he had finished this extraordinary ad- 
 dress, the Teton awaited to have it translated, 
 with the air of a suitor who entertained no very 
 disheartening doubts of his success. The trapper 
 had not lost a syllable of the speech, and he now 
 prepared himself to render it into English in such 
 a manner as should leave its principal idea even 
 more obscure than in the original. But, as his re- 
 luctant lips were in the act of partiug, Ellen lifted 
 a finger, and, with a keen glance from her quick 
 eye at the still attentive Inez, she interrupted 
 him : 
 
 “ Spare your breath,” she said ; “ all that a 
 savage says is not to be repeated before a Chris- 
 tian lady.” 
 
 Inez started, blushed, and bowed with an air 
 of reserve, as she coldly thanked the old man for 
 his intentions, and observed that she could now 
 wish to be alone. 
 
 “ My daughters have no need of ears to under- 
 stand what a great Dahcotah says,” returned the 
 trapper, addressing himself to the expecting 
 Mahtoree. “ The look he has given, and the 
 signs he has made, are enough. They understand 
 him; they wish to think of his words; for the 
 children of great braves, such as their fathers are, 
 do nothing without much thought.” 
 
 With this explanation, so flattering to the 
 energy of his eloquence, and so promising to hi* 
 future hopes, the Teton was every way content 
 
TACHECHANA AND HER SON. 
 
 143 
 
 He made the customary ejaculation of assent, and 
 prepared to retire. Saluting the females in the 
 cold but dignified manner of his people, he drew 
 his robe about him, and moved from the spot 
 where he had stood with an air of ill-concealed 
 triumph. 
 
 But there had been a stricken though a 
 motionless and unobserved auditor of the fore- 
 going scene. Not a syllable had fallen from the 
 ups of the long and anxiously expected husband 
 that had not gone directly to the heart of his un- 
 offending wife. In this manner had he wooed her 
 from the lodge of her father, and it was to listen 
 to similar pictures of the renown and deeds of 
 the greatest brave in her tribe that she had shut 
 her ears to the tender tales of so many of the 
 Sioux youths. 
 
 As the Teton turned to leave his lodge in the 
 manner just mentioned, he found this unexpected 
 and half-forgotten object before him. She stood 
 in the humble guise and with the shrinking air of 
 an Indian girl, holding the pledge of their former 
 love in her arms, directly in his path. Starting, 
 the chief regained the marble-like indifference of 
 countenance which distinguished in so remark- 
 able a degree the restrained or more artificial ex- 
 pression of his features, and signed to her with 
 an air of authority to give place. 
 
 “ Is not Tachechana the daughter of a chief? ” 
 damandcd a subdued voice, in which pride strug- 
 gled with anguish : “ were not her brothers 
 braves ? ” 
 
 “ Go ; the men are calling their partisan. He 
 has no ear3 for a woman.” 
 
 “No,” replied the supplicant; “it is not the 
 voice of Tachechana that you hear, but this boy, 
 speaking with the tongue of his mother. He is 
 the son of a chief, and his words will go up to his 
 father’s ears. Listen to what he says. When 
 was Mahtoree hungry, and Tachechana had not 
 food for him ? When did he go on the path of 
 the Pawnees and find it empty, that my mother 
 did not weep ? When did he come back with the 
 marks of their blows, that she did not sing ? What 
 Sioux girl has given a brave a son like me ? Look at 
 me well, that you may know me. My eyes are the 
 eagle’s. I look at the sun and laugh. In a little 
 time the Dahcotahs will follow me to the hunts 
 and on the war-path. Why does my father turn 
 his eyes from the woman that gives me milk ? 
 Why has he so soon forgotten the daughter of a 
 mighty Sioux ? ” 
 
 There was a single instant, as the exulting 
 father suffered his cold eye to wander to the face 
 of the laughing boy, that the stern nature of the 
 Teton seemed touched. But, shaking off the grate- 
 
 ful sentiment, like one who would gladly be rid 
 of any painful because reproachful emotion, he 
 laid his hand calmly on the arm of his wife, and 
 led her directly in front of Inez. Pointing to the 
 sweet countenance that was beaming on her own, 
 with a look of tenderness and commiseration, he 
 paused, to allow his wife to contemplate a loveli- 
 ness which was quite as excellent to her ingenuous 
 mind as it had proved dangerous to the character 
 of her faithless husband. When he thought abun- 
 dant time had passed to make the contrast suf- 
 ficiently striking, he suddenly raised a small mir- 
 ror that dangled at her breast, an ornament he 
 had himself bestowed, in an hour of fondness, as 
 a compliment to her beauty, and placed her own 
 dark image in its place. Wrapping bis robe 
 about him, the Teton motioned the trapper to fol- 
 low, and stalked haughtily from the lodge, mut- 
 tering as he went : 
 
 “ Mahtoree is very wise ! What nation has so 
 great a chief as the Dahcotahs ? ” 
 
 Taohechana stood frozen into a statue of 
 humility. Her mild and usually joyous counte- 
 nance worked, as if the struggle within was about 
 to dissolve the connection between her soul and 
 that more material part whose deformity was be- 
 coming so loathsome. Inez and Ellen were ut- 
 terly ignorant of the nature of her interview with 
 her husband, though the quick and sharpened 
 wits of the latter led her to suspect a truth to 
 which the entire innocence of the former furnished 
 no clew. They were both, however, about to 
 tender those sympathies which are so natural to 
 and so graceful in the sex, when their necessity 
 seemed suddenly to cease. The convulsions in 
 the features of the young Sioux disappeared, and 
 her countenance became cold and rigid, like 
 chiselled stone. A single expression of subdued 
 anguish, which had made its impression on a brow 
 that had rarely before contracted with sorrow, 
 alone remained. It was never removed, in all the 
 changes of seasons, fortunes, and years, which, in 
 the vicissitudes of a suffering, female, savage life, 
 she was subsequently doomed to endure. As in 
 the case of a premature blight, let the plant 
 quicken and revive as it may, the effects of that 
 withering touch were always present. 
 
 Tachechana first stripped her person of every 
 vestige of those rude but highly-prized orna- 
 ments, which the liberality of her husband had 
 been wont to lavish on her, and she tendered 
 them meekly, and without a murmur, as an offer- 
 ing to the superiority of Inez. The bracelets 
 were forced from her wrists, the complicated 
 mazes of beads from her leggings, and the broad 
 silver band from her brow. Then she paused, long 
 
144 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 and painfully. But it would seem that the resolu- 
 tion she had once adopted was not to be con- 
 quered by the lingering emotions of any affection, 
 however natural. The boy himself was next laid 
 at the feet of her supposed rival, and well might 
 the self-abased wife of the Teton believe that the 
 burden of her sacrifice was now full. 
 
 While Inez and Ellen stood regarding these 
 several strange movements with eyes of wonder, 
 a low, soft, musical voice was heard, saying, in a 
 language that to them was unintelligible : 
 
 “ A strange tongue will tell my boy the man- 
 ner to become a man. He will hear sounds that 
 are new, but he will learn them, and forget the 
 voice of his tnother. It is the will of the Wah- 
 condah, and a Sioux girl should not complain. 
 Speak to him softly, for his ears are very little ; 
 when he is big, your words may be louder. Let 
 him not be a girl, for very sad is the life of a 
 woman. Teach him to keep his eyes on the men. 
 Show him how to strike them that do him wrong, 
 and let him never forget to return blow for blow. 
 When he goes to hunt, the flower of the pale- 
 faces,” she concluded, using in bitterness the 
 metaphor which had been supplied by the imagi- 
 nation of her truant husband, “ will whisper 
 softly In his, ears that the skin of his mother was 
 red, and that she was once the Fawn of the Dah- 
 cotahs.” 
 
 Tachechana pressed, a kiss on the lips of her 
 son, and withdrew to the farther side of the lodge. 
 Here she drew her light calico robe over her head, 
 and took her seat, in token of humility, on the 
 naked earth. All efforts to attract her attention 
 were fruitless. She neither heard remonstrances 
 nor felt the touch. Once or twice her voice rose, 
 in a sort of wailing song, from beneath her quiver- 
 ing mantle, but it never mounted into the wild- 
 ness of savage music. In this manner she re- 
 mained unseen for hours, while events were occur- 
 ring without the lodge which not only materially 
 changed the complexion of her own fortunes, but 
 left a lasting and deep impression on the future 
 movements of the wandering Sioux. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 ** I’ll no swaggerers : I am in good name and fame with 
 the very best:— -shut the door; — there come no swaggerers 
 here. I have not lived all this while, to have swaggering 
 now : shut the door, I pray you.” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Mahtoree encountered, at the door of his 
 »odge, Ishmael, Abiram, and Esther. The first 
 glance of his eye at the countenance of the 
 
 heavy-moulded squatter served to tell the cun. 
 ning Teton that the treacherous truce he had 
 made with these dupes of his superior sagacity 
 was in some danger of a violent termination. 
 
 “ Look you here, old gray-beard,”- said Ishmael, 
 seizing the trapper and whirling him round as if 
 he had been a top ; “ that I am tired of carrying 
 on a discourse with fingers and thumbs, instead 
 of a tongue, ar’ a natural fact ; so you’ll play 
 linguister, and put my words into Indian, without 
 much caring whether they suit the stomach of a 
 red-skin or not.” 
 
 “Say on, friend,” calmly returned the trapper; 
 “ they shall be given as plainly as you send them.” 
 
 “ Friend ! ” repeated the squatter, eying the 
 other for an instant with an expression of indefin- 
 able meaning. “ But it is no more than a word, 
 and sounds break no bones and survey no farms. 
 Tell this thieving Sioux, then, that I come to 
 Claim the conditions of our solemn bargain, made 
 at the foot of the rock.” 
 
 When the trapper had rendered his meaning 
 into the Sioux language, Mahtoree demanded, 
 with an air of surprise : 
 
 “ Is my brother cold ? Buffalo-skins are 
 plenty. Is he hungry l Let my young men carry 
 venison into his lodges*” 
 
 The squatter elevated his clinched fist in ,a 
 menacing manner, and struck it with violence on 
 the palm of his open hand, by way of confirming 
 his determination, as he answered : 
 
 “ Tell the deceitful liar I have not come like 
 a beggar to pick his bones, but like a freeman 
 asking for his own ; and have it I will. And, 
 moreover, tell him I claim that you, too, miser- 
 able sinner as you ar’, should be given up to jus- 
 tice. There’s no mistake. My prisoner, my niece, 
 and you — I demand the three at his hands, accord- 
 ing to a sworn agreement.” 
 
 The immovable old man smiled with an ex- 
 pression of singular intelligence, as he answered : 
 
 “ Friend squatter, you ask what few men 
 would be willing to grant. You would first cut 
 the tongue from the mouth of the Teton, and then 
 the heart from bis bosom,” 
 
 “ It is little that Ishmael Bush regards who 
 or what is damaged in claiming his own. But 
 put you the questions in straight-going Indian; 
 and, when you speak of yourself, make such a 
 sign as a white man will understand, in order that 
 I may know there is no foul play.” 
 
 The trapper laughed in his silent fashion, and 
 muttered a few words to himself before he ad- 
 dressed the chief : 
 
 “Let the Hahcotah open his ears very wide,” 
 he said, “ that big words may have room to ente£ 
 
AN AUDACIOUS PROPOSAL. 
 
 145 
 
 Hie friend, the Big-knife, comes with an empty 
 hand, and he says that the Teton must fill it.” 
 
 “ Wagh ! Mahtoree is a rich ehief. He is 
 master of the prairies.” 
 
 “ He must give the dark-hair.” 
 
 The brow of the chief contracted in an omi- 
 nous frown, that threatened instant destruction 
 to the audacious squatter ; but, as suddenly re- 
 collecting his policy, he craftily replied : 
 
 “A girl is too light for the hand of such a 
 brave. I will fill it with buffaloes.” 
 
 “ He says he has need of the light-hair, too, 
 who has his blood in her veins.” 
 
 “ She shall be the wife of Mahtoree ; then the 
 Long-knife will be the father of a chief.” 
 
 “And me,” continued the trapper, making one 
 of those expressive signs by which the natives 
 communicate with nearly the same facility as with 
 their tongues, and turning to the squatter at the 
 same time, in order that the latter might see he 
 dealt fairly by him ; “he asks for a miserable and 
 worn-out trapper.” 
 
 The Dahcotah threw his arm over the shoul- 
 der of the old man with an air of great affection, 
 before he replied to this third and last demand : 
 
 “My friend is old,” he said, “and cannot 
 travel far. He will stay with the Tetons, that 
 they may learn wisdom from his words. What 
 Sioux has a tongue like my father ? No : let his 
 words be very soft, but let them be very clear. 
 Mahtoree will give skins and buffaloes. He will 
 give the young men of the pale-faces wives, but 
 he cannot give away any who live in his own 
 lodge.” 
 
 Perfectly satisfied himself with this laconic 
 reply, the chief was moving toward his expecting 
 counsellors, when, suddenly returning, he inter- 
 rupted the translation of the trapper, by adding: 
 
 “ Tell the Great Buffalo ” (a name by which 
 the Tetons had already christened Ishmael) 
 “ that Mahtoree has a hand which is always open. 
 See,” he added, pointing to the hard and wrin- 
 kled visage of the attentive Esther, “ his wife is 
 too old for so great a chief. Let him put her out 
 of his lodge. Mahtoree loves him as a brother. 
 He is his brother. He shall have the youngest 
 wife of the Teton. Tachechana, the pride of the 
 Sioux girls, shall cook his venison, and many 
 braves will look at him with longing minds. Go ; 
 a Dahcotah is generous.” 
 
 The singular coolness with which the Teton 
 concluded this audacious proposal confounded 
 even the practised trapper. He stared after the 
 retiring form of the Indian with an astonishment 
 he did not care to conceal ; nor did he renew his 
 attempt at interpretation until the person of Mali- 
 10 
 
 toree was blended with the cluster of warriors 
 who had so long and with so characteristic pa- 
 tience awaited his return. 
 
 “ The Teton chief has spoken very plainly,” 
 the old man continued ; “ he will not give you the 
 lady, to whom the Lord in heaven knows you 
 have no claim, unless it be such as the wolf has 
 to the lamb. He will not give you the child you 
 call your niece ; and therein I acknowledge that 
 I am far from certain he has the same justice on 
 his side. Moreover, neighbor squatter, he flatly 
 denies your demand for me, miserable and worth- 
 less as I am ; nor do I think he has been unwise 
 in so doing, seeing that I should have many rea- 
 sons against journeying far in your company. 
 But he makes you an offer, which it is right and 
 convenient you should know. The Teton says 
 through me, who am no more than a mouth-piece, 
 and therein not answerable for the sin of his 
 words, but he says, as this good woman is getting 
 past the comely age, it is reasonable for you to 
 tire of such a wife. He therefore tells you to turn 
 her out of your lodge, and when it is empty he 
 will send his own favorite, or rather her that was 
 his favorite, the ‘ Skipping Fawn,’ as the Siouxea 
 call her, to fill her place. You see, neighbor, 
 though the red-skin is minded to keep your prop- 
 erty, he is willing to give you wherewithal to 
 make yourself some return ! ” 
 
 Ishmael listened to these replies to his several 
 demands with that species of gathering indigna- 
 tion with which the dullest tempers mount into 
 the most violent paroxysms of rage. He even af- 
 fected to laugh at the conceit of exchanging his 
 long-tried partner for the more flexible support 
 of the youthful Tachechana, though his voice wa3 
 hollow and unnatural in the effort. But Esther 
 was far from giving the proposal so facetious a 
 reception. Lifting her voice to its most audible 
 key, she broke forth, after catching her breath 
 like one who had been in some imminent danger 
 of strangulation, as follows : 
 
 “ Hoity-toity ! Who set an Indian up for a mak- 
 er and a breaker of the rights of wedded wives ? 
 Does he think a woman is a beast of the prairie, 
 that she is to be chased from a village by dog and 
 gun ? Let the bravest squaw of them all come 
 forth and boast of her doings ; can she show such 
 a brood as mine ? A wicked tyrant is that thieving 
 red-skin, and a bold rogue I warrant me. He 
 would be captain in-doors as well as out ! An hon- 
 est woman is no better in his eyes than one of your 
 broomstick-jumpers. And you, Ishmael Bush, 
 the father of seven sons and so many comely 
 daughters, to open your sinful mouth, except to 
 curse him ! Would ye disgrace color, and family, 
 
146 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 and nation, by mixing white blood with red, and 
 would ye be the parent of a race of mules ! The 
 devil has often tempted you, my man, but never 
 before has he set so cunning a snare as this. Go 
 back among your children, friend; go, and re- 
 member that you are not a prowling bear, but a 
 Christian man, and thank God that you ar’ a law- 
 ful husband I ” 
 
 The clamor of Esther was anticipated by the 
 judicious trapper. He had easily foreseen that 
 her meek temper would overflow at so scandalous 
 a proposal as repudiation, and he now profited by 
 the tempest to retire to a place where he was at 
 least safe from any immediate violence on the 
 part of her less excited but certainly more dan- 
 gerous husband. Ishmael, who had made his de- 
 mands with a stout determination to enforce them, 
 was diverted by the windy torrent, like .many a 
 more obstinate husband, from his purpose ; and, in 
 order to appease a jealousy that resembled the 
 fury with which the bear defends her cubs, was 
 fain to retire to a distance from the lodge that 
 was known to contain the unoffending object of 
 the sudden uproar. 
 
 “ Let your copper-colored minx come forth 
 and show her tawny beauty before the face of a 
 woman who has heard more than one church-bell, 
 and seen a power of real quality ! ” cried Esther, 
 flourishing her hand in triumph, as she drove Ish- 
 mael and Abiram before her, like two truant boys, 
 toward their own encampment. “ I warrant me, 
 I warrant me, here is one who would shortly talk 
 her down t Never think to tarry here, my men ; 
 never think to shut an eye in a camp, through 
 which the devil walks as openly as if he were a 
 gentleman, and sure of his welcome. — Here, you 
 Abner, Enoch, Jesse, where ar’ ye gotten to ? 
 Put to, put to ; if that weak-minded, soft-feeling 
 man, your father, eats or drinks again in this 
 neighborhood, we shall see him poisoned with the 
 craft of the red-skins. Not that I care, I, who 
 comes into my place, when it is once lawfully 
 empty — but, Ishmael, I never thought that you, 
 who have had one woman with a white skin, 
 would find pleasure in looking on a brazen — ay, 
 that she is copper ar’ a fact; you can’t deny it, 
 and, I warrant me, brazen enough is she too ! ” 
 
 Against this ebullition of wounded female 
 pride, the experienced husband made no other 
 head than by an occasional exclamation, which 
 he intended to be the precursor of a simple assev- 
 eration of his own innocence. The fury of the 
 woman would not be appeased. She listened to 
 nothing but her own voice; and consequently 
 nothing was heard but her mandates to depart. 
 
 The squatter had collected his beasts and 
 
 loaded his wagons, as a measure of precaution, 
 before proceeding to the extremity he contem- 
 plated. Esther consequently found every thing 
 favorable to her wishes. The young men stared 
 at each other, as they witnessed the extraordinary 
 excitement of their mother, but took little inter- 
 est in an event which, in the course of their ex- 
 perience, had found so many parallels. By com- 
 mand of their father, the tents were thrown into 
 the vehicles as a sort of reprisal for the want of 
 faith in their late ally, and then the train left the 
 spot, in its usual listless and sluggish order. 
 
 As a formidable division of well-armed bor- 
 derers protected the rear of the retiring party, the 
 Sioux saw it depart without manifesting the 
 smallest evidence of surprise or resentment. The 
 savage, like the tiger, rarely makes his attack on 
 an enemy who expects him ; and, if the warriors 
 of the Tetons meditated any hostility, it was in 
 the still and patient manner with which the felino 
 beasts watch for the incautious moment, in order 
 to insure the blow. The counsels of Mahtorec, 
 however, on whom so much of the policy of his 
 people depended, lay deep in the depository of his 
 own thoughts. Perhaps he rejoiced at so easy a 
 manner of getting rid of claims so troublesome ; 
 perhaps he awaited a fitting time to exhibit his 
 power ; or it even might be that matters of so 
 much greater importance were pressing on his 
 mind, that it had not leisure to devote any of its 
 faculties to an event of so much indifference. 
 
 But it would seem that, while Ishmael made 
 such a concession to the awakened feelings of Es- 
 ther, he was far from abandoning his original in- 
 tentions. His train followed the course of the 
 river for a mile, and then it came to a halt on the 
 brow of the elevated land, and in a place which 
 afforded the necessary facilities. Here be again 
 pitched his tents, unharnessed his teams, sent his 
 cattle on the bottom, and, in short, made all the 
 customary preparations to pass the night, with the 
 same coolness and deliberation as if he had not 
 hurled an irritating defiance into the teeth of his 
 dangerous neighbors. 
 
 In the mean time the Tetons proceeded to the 
 more regular business of the hour. A fierce and 
 savage joy had existed in the camp, from the in- 
 stant when it had been announced that their own 
 chief was returning with the long-dreaded and 
 hated partisan of their enemies. For many hours 
 the crones of the tribe had been going from lodge 
 to lodge, in order to stimulate the tempers of the 
 warriors to such a pass as might leave but little 
 room for mercy. To one they spoke of a son, 
 whose scalp was drying in the smoke of a Pawnee 
 lodge. To another, they enumerated his own 
 
TIIE CHIEFS IN SOLEMN COUNCIL. 
 
 147 
 
 scars, his disgraces and defeats; with a third, 
 they dwelt on his losses of skins and horses ; and 
 a fourth was reminded of vengeance by a signifi- 
 cant question concerning some flagrant adventure 
 in which he was known to have been a sufferer. 
 
 By these means the men had been so far ex- 
 cited as to have assembled, in the manner already 
 related, though it still remained a matter of doubt 
 how far they intended to carry their revenge. A 
 variety of opinions prevailed on the policy of ex- 
 ecuting their prisoners ; and Mahtoree had sus- 
 pended the discussions, in order to ascertain how 
 far the measure might propitiate or retard his 
 own particular views. Hitherto the consultations 
 had merely been preliminary, with a design that 
 each chief might discover the number of support- 
 ers his particular views would be likely to obtain 
 when the important subject should come before a 
 more solemn council of the tribe. The moment 
 for the latter had now arrived, and the prepara- 
 tions were made with a dignity and solemnity suited 
 to the momentous interests of the occasion. 
 
 With a refinement in cruelty that none but an 
 Indian would have imagined, the place selected 
 for this grave deliberation was immediately about 
 the post to w hich the most important of its sub- 
 jects was attached. Middleton and Paul were 
 brought in their bonds, and laid at the feet of the 
 Pawnee ; then the men began to take their places, 
 according to their several claims to distinction. 
 As warrior after warrior approached, he seated 
 himself in the wide circle with a mien as com- 
 posed and thoughtful as if his mind were actually 
 in a condition to deal out justice, tempered, as it 
 should be, with the heavenly quality of mercy. 
 A place was reserved for three or four of the 
 principal chiefs ; and a few of the oldest of the 
 women, as withered as age, exposure, hardships, 
 and lives of savage passions could make them, 
 thrust themselves into the foremost circle with a 
 temerity to which they were impelled by their in- 
 satiable desire for cruelty, and which nothing but 
 their years and their long-tried fidelity to the na- 
 tion could have excused. 
 
 All, but the chiefs already named, were now 
 in their places. These had delayed their appear- 
 ance, in the vain hope that their own unanimity 
 might smooth the way to that of their respec- 
 tive factions; for, notwithstanding the superior 
 influence of Mahtoree, his power was to be main- 
 tained only by constant appeals to the opinions 
 of his inferiors. As these important personages 
 at length entered the circle in a body, their sul- 
 len looks and clouded brows, notwithstanding the 
 time given for consultation, sufficiently pro- 
 claimed the discontent which reigned among 
 
 them. The eye of Mahtoree was varying in its 
 expression, from sudden gleams, that seemed to 
 kindle with the burning impulses of his soul, to 
 that cold and guarded steadiness which was 
 thought more peculiarly to become a chief in 
 council. He took his seat with the studied sim- 
 plicity of a demagogue ; though the keen and 
 flashing glance that he immediately threw around 
 the silent assembly betrayed the more predomi- 
 nant temper of a tyrant. 
 
 When all were present, an aged warrior lighted 
 the great pipe of his people, and blew the smoke 
 toward the four quarters of the heavens. So 
 soon as this propitiatory offering was made, he 
 tendered it to Mahtoree, who, in affected humil- 
 ity, passed it to a gray-headed chief by his side. 
 After the influence of the soothing weed had been 
 courted by all, a grave silence succeeded, as if 
 each was not only qualified to, but actually did, 
 think more deeply on the matters before them. 
 Then an old Indian arose, and spoke as follows : 
 
 “ The eagle, at the falls of the' endless river, 
 was in its egg, many snows after my hand had 
 struck a Pawnee. What my tongue says, my eyes 
 have seen. Bohrecheena is very old. The hills 
 have stood longer in their places than he has been 
 in his tribe, and the rivers were full and empty 
 before he was born ; but where is the Sioux that 
 knows it besides myself? What he says, they 
 will hear. If any of his words fall to the ground, 
 they will pick them up and hold them to their 
 ears. If any blow away in the wind, my young 
 men, who are very nimble, will catch them. Now 
 listen. Since water ran and trees grew, the Sioux 
 has found the Pawnee on his war-path. As the 
 cougar loves the antelope, the Dahcotah loves 
 his enemy. When the wolf finds the fawn, does 
 he lie down and sleep ? When the panther sees 
 the doe at the spring, does he shut his eyes ? 
 You know that he does not. He drinks too ; but it 
 is of blood ! A Sioux is a leaping panther, a Paw- 
 nee a trembling deer. Let my children hear me. 
 They will find my words good. I have spoken.” 
 
 A deep guttural exclamation of assent broke 
 from the lips of all the partisans of Mahtoree, 
 as they listened to this sanguinary advice from 
 one who was certainly among the most aged men 
 of the nation. That deeply-seated love of ven- 
 geance, which formed so prominent a feature in 
 their characters, was gratified by his metaphori- 
 cal allusions ; and the chief himself augured favor- 
 ably of the success of his own schemes, by the 
 number of supporters who manifested themselves 
 to be in favor of the counsels of his friend. But 
 still unanimity was far from prevailing. A long 
 and decorous pause was suffered to succeed the 
 
148 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 words of the first speaker, in order that all might 
 duly deliberate on their wisdom, before another 
 chief took on himself the office of refutation. 
 The second orator, though past the prime of his 
 days, was far less aged than the one who had 
 preceded him. He felt the disadvantage of this 
 circumstance, and endeavored to counteract it, as 
 far as possible, by the excess of his humility. 
 
 “I am but an infant,” he commenced, looking 
 furtively around him, in order to detect how far 
 his well-established character for prudence and 
 courage contradicted his assertion. “I have 
 lived with the women since my father has been a 
 man. If my head is getting gray, it is not be- 
 cause I am old. Some of the snow which fell on 
 it while I have been sleeping on the war-paths 
 has frozen there, and the hot sun near the Osage 
 villages has not been strong enough to melt it.” 
 A low murmur was heard, expressive of admira- 
 tion of the services to which he thus artfully 
 alluded. The orator modestly awaited for the feel- 
 ing to subside a little, and then he continued, with 
 increasing energy, encouraged by their commen- 
 dations : “ But the eye3 of a young brave are 
 . good. He can see very far. He is a lynx. Look 
 at me well. I will now turn my back, that yon 
 may see both sides of me. Now do you knOw I 
 am your friend, for you look on a part that a 
 Pawnee never yet saw. Now look at my face — 
 not in this seam, for there your eyes can never 
 see into my spirit. It is a hole cut by a Konza. 
 But here is an opening made by the Wahcon- 
 dah, through which you may look into the soul. 
 What am I ? A Dahcotah, within and without. 
 You know it. Therefore hear me. The blood 
 of every creature on the prairie is red. Who 
 can tell the spot where a Pawnee was struck, 
 from the place where my young men took a bison ? 
 It is of the same color. The Master of Life 
 made them for each other. He made thefn alike. 
 But will the grass grow green where a pale-face 
 is killed ? My young men must not think that 
 nation so numerous that it will not miss a war- 
 rior. They call them over often, and say, ‘Where 
 are my sons ? ’ If they miss one, they will send 
 into the prairies to look for him. If they cannot 
 find him, they will tell their runners to ask for 
 him among the Sioux. My brethren, the Big- 
 knives are tiot fools. There is a mighty medi- 
 cine of their nation now among us ; who can 
 tell how loud is his voice, or how long is his 
 arm ? — ” 
 
 The speech of the orator, who was beginning 
 to enter into his subject with warmth, was cut 
 short by the impatient Mahtoree, who siiddenlv 
 arose, and exclaimed, in a voice in which author- 
 
 ity was mingled witn contempt, and at the close 
 with a keen tone of irony also : 
 
 “ Let my young men lead the evil spirit of the 
 pale-faces to the council. My brother shall see 
 his medicine face to face 1 ” 
 
 A death-like and solemn stillness succeeded 
 this extraordinary interruption. It not only in. 
 volved a deep offence against the sacred courtesy 
 of debate, but the mandate was likely to brave 
 the unknown power of one of those incompre- 
 hensible beings whom few Indians were enlight- 
 ened enough at that day to regard without rever- 
 ence, or few hardy enough to oppose. The sub- 
 ordinates, however, obeyed, and Obed was led 
 forth from the lodge mounted on Asinus, with a 
 ceremony and state which was certainly intended 
 for derision, but which nevertheless was greatly 
 enhanced by fear. As they entered the ring, Mah- 
 toree, who had foreseen and had endeavored to 
 anticipate the influence of the doctor by bring- 
 ing him into contempt, cast an eye around the 
 assembly in order to gather his success in the 
 various dark visages by which he was encircled. 
 
 Truly Nature and art had combined to produce 
 such an effect from the air and appointments of 
 the naturalist, as might have made him the sub- 
 ject of wonder in any place. His head had been 
 industriously shaved, after the most approved 
 fashion of Sioux taste. A gallant scalp-lock, which 
 would probably not have been spared had the 
 doctor himself been consulted in the matter, was 
 all that remained of an exuberant, and, at that 
 particular season of the year, far from uncomfort- 
 able head of hair. Thick coats of paint had been 
 laid on the naked poll, and certain fanciful designs 
 in the same material had even been extended into 
 the neighborhood of the eyes and mouth, lending to 
 the keen expression of the former a look of twin- 
 kling cunning, and to the dogmatism of the latter 
 not a little of the grimness of necromancy. He had 
 been despoiled of his upper garments, and in their 
 stead Ms body was sufficiently protected from the 
 cold by a fantastically painted robe of dressed 
 deerskin. As if in mockery of his pursuit, sundry 
 toads, frogs, lizards, butterflies, etc., all duly pre- 
 pared to take their places at some future day in 
 his own private cabinet, were attached to the soli- 
 tary lock on his head, to his ears, and to various 
 other conspicuous parts of his person. If, in ad- 
 dition to the effect produced by these quaint 
 auxiliaries to his costume, we add the portentous 
 and troubled gleamings of doubt which rendered 
 his visage doubly austere, and proclaimed the 
 misgivings of the worthy Obed’s mind as he beheld' 
 his personal dignity thus prostrated, and, what 
 was of far greater moment in his eyes, himself led 
 
OBED IN DANGER. 
 
 140 
 
 forth, as he firmly believed, to be the victim of 
 some heathenish sacrifice, the reader will find no 
 difficulty in giving credit to the sensation of awe 
 that was already excited by his appearance in a 
 band already more than half prepared to worship 
 him as a powerful agent of the evil spirit. 
 
 Weucha led Asinus directly into the centre of 
 the circle, and, leaving them together (for the legs 
 of the naturalist were attached, to the beast in such 
 a manner that the two animals might be said to 
 be incorporated, and to form a new order), he with- 
 drew to his proper place, gazing at the conjurer, 
 as he retired, with a wonder and admiration that 
 were natural to the grovelling dulness of his mind. 
 
 The astonishment seemed mutual between 
 the spectators and the subject of this strange ex- 
 hibition. If the Tetons contemplated the mysteri- 
 ous attributes of the medicine with awe and fear, 
 the doctor gazed on every side of him with a mix- 
 ture of quite as many extraordinary emotions, in 
 which the latter sensation, however, formed no 
 inconsiderable ingredient. Everywhere his eyes, 
 which just at that moment possessed a secret 
 magnifying quality, seemed to rest on several 
 dark, savage, and obdurate countenances at once, 
 from none of which could he extract a solitary 
 gleam of sympathy or commiseration. At length 
 his wandering gaze fell on the grave and decent 
 features of the trapper, who, with Hector at his feet, 
 stood in the edge of the circle, leaning on that rifle 
 which he had been permitted, as an acknowledged 
 friend, to resume, and apparently musing on the 
 eveuts that were likely to succeed a council marked 
 by so many and such striking ceremonies. 
 
 “ Venerable Venator, or hunter, or trapper,” 
 said the disconsolate Obed, “ I rejoice greatly in 
 meeting thee again. I fear that the precious time 
 which had been allotted me, in order to complete 
 a mighty labor, is drawing to a premature close, 
 and I would gladly unburden my mind to one 
 who, if not a pupil of science, has at least some 
 of the knowledge which civilization imparts to its 
 meanest subjects; Doubtless many and earnest 
 inquiries will be made after my fate, by the 
 learned societies of the world, and perhaps expe- 
 ditions will be sent into these regions to remove 
 any doubt which may arise on so important a sub- 
 ject. I esteem myself happy that a man who 
 speaks the vernacular is present, to preserve the 
 record of my end. You will say that after a well- 
 spent and glorious life, I died a martyr to science, 
 and a victim to mental darkness. As I expect 
 to be particularly cahn and abstracted in my last 
 moments, if you add a few details concerning the 
 fortitude and scholastic dignity with which I met 
 my death, it may serve to encourage future aspi- 
 
 rants for similar honors, and assuredly give of- 
 fence to no one. And now, friend trapper, as a duty 
 I owe to human nature, I will conclude by demand- 
 ing if all hope has deserted me, or if any means 
 still exist by which so much valuable information 
 may be rescued from the grasp of ignorance, and 
 preserved to the pages of natural history.” 
 
 The old man lent an attentive ear to this 
 melancholy appeal, and apparently he reflected 
 on every side of the important question, before 
 he would presume to answer. 
 
 “ I take it, friend physicianer,” he at length 
 gravely replied, “that the chances of life and 
 death, in your particular case, depend altogether 
 on the will of Providence, as it may be pleased to 
 manifest it through the accursed windings of In- 
 dian cunning. For my own part, I see no great 
 difference in the main end to be gained, inasmuch 
 as it can matter no one greatly, yourself excepted, 
 whether you live or die.” 
 
 “ Would you account the fall of a corner-stone 
 from the foundations of the edifice of learning, a 
 matter of indifference to contemporaries or to pos- 
 terity ? ” interrupted Obed. “ Besides, my aged 
 associate,” he reproachfully added, “ the interest 
 that a man has in his own existence is by no 
 means trifling, however it may be eclipsed by hia 
 devotion to more general and philanthropic feel- 
 ings.” 
 
 “ What I would say is this,” resumed the trap- 
 per, who was far from understanding all the sub- 
 tie distinctions with which his more learned com 
 panion so often saw fit to embellish his discourse , 
 “ there is but one birth and one death to ah 
 things, be it hound or be it deer ; be it red skin 
 or be it white. Both are in the hands of the 
 Lord, it being as unlawful for man to strive to 
 hasten the one, as impossible to prevent the oth- 
 er. But I will not say that something may not be 
 done to put the last moment aside, for a while at 
 least, and therefore it is a question, that any one 
 has a right to put to his own wisdom, how far he 
 will go, and how much pain he will suffer, to 
 lengthen out a time that may have been too long 
 already. Many a dreary winter and scorching 
 summer has gone by since I have turned to the 
 right hand or to the left, to add an hour to a life 
 that has already stretched beyond fourscore years. 
 I keep myself as ready to answer to my name as 
 a soldier at evening roll-call. In my judgment, 
 if your cases are left to Indian tempers, the pol- 
 icy of the Great Sioux will lead his people to sac- 
 rifice you all ; nor do I put much dependence on 
 his seeming love for me ; therefore it becomes a 
 question whether you are ready for such a jour- 
 ney ; and if, being ready, whether this is not as 
 
150 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 good a time to start as another. Should my opin- 
 ion be asked, thus far will I give it in your favor ; 
 that is to say, it is my belief your life has been 
 innocent enough, touching any great offences that 
 you may have committed, though honesty com- 
 pels me to add, that I think all you can lay claim 
 to, on the score of activity in deeds, will not 
 amount to any thing worth naming in the great 
 account.” 
 
 Obed turned a rueful eye on the calm, philo- 
 sophic countenance of the other, as he answered 
 with so discouraging a statement of his case, clear- 
 ing his throat, as he did so, in order to conceal 
 the desperate concern which began to beset his 
 faculties, with a vestige of that pride which rarely 
 deserts poor human nature, even in the greatest 
 emergencies. 
 
 w I believe, venerable hunter,” he replied, 
 “ considering the question in all its beai'iugs, and 
 assuming that your theory is just, it will be the 
 safest to conclude that I am not prepared to make 
 so hasty a departure, and that measures of pre- 
 caution should be forthwith resorted to.” 
 
 “ Being in that mind,” returned the deliberate 
 trapper, “ I will act for you as I would for myself ; 
 though as time has begun to roll down the hill 
 with you, I will just advise that you will look to 
 your case speedily, for it may so happen that 
 your name will be heard when quite as little pre- 
 pared to answer to it as now.” 
 
 With this amicable understanding, the old 
 man drew back again into the ring, where he 
 stood musing on the course he should now adopt, 
 with the singular mixture of decision and resig- 
 nation that proceeded from his habits and his hu- 
 mility, and which united to form a character in 
 which excessive energy, and the most meek sub- 
 mission to the will of Providence, were oddly 
 enough combined. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 “ The witch, in Smithfleld, shall be burned to ashes, 
 And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.” 
 
 Sqakespeabs. 
 
 The Sioux had awaited the issue of the fore- 
 going dialogue with commendable patience. Most 
 of the band were restrained by the secret awe 
 with which they regarded the mysterious charac- 
 ter of Obed ; while a few of the more intelligent 
 chiefs gladly profited by the opportunity to ar- 
 range their thoughts for the struggle that was 
 plainly foreseen. Mahtoree, influenced by neither 
 of these feelings, was content to show the trapper 
 how much he conceded to his pleasure ; and when 
 
 the old man discontinued the discourse, he re- 
 ceived from the chief a glance that was intended 
 to remind him of the patience with which he had 
 awaited his movements. A profound and motion- 
 less silence succeeded the short interruption. 
 Then Mahtoree arose, evidently prepared to speak. 
 First placing himself in an attitude of dignity, 
 he turned a steady and severe look on the whole 
 assembly. The expression of his eye, however, 
 changed as it glanced across the different coun- 
 tenances of his supporters and of his opponents. 
 To the former the look, though stern, was not 
 threatening, while it seemed to tell the latter all 
 the hazards they incurred, in daring to brave the 
 resentment of one so powerful. 
 
 Still in the midst of so much hauteur and con- 
 fidence, the sagacity and cunning of the Teton did 
 not desert him. When he had thrown the gaunt- 
 let, as it were, to the whole tribe, and sufficiently 
 asserted his claim to superiority, his mien became 
 more affable and his eye less angry. Then it was 
 that he raised his voice, in the midst of a death- 
 like stillness, varying its tones to suit the chang- 
 ing character of his images and of his eloquence. 
 
 “ What is a Sioux ? ” the chief sagaciously be- 
 gan ; “ he is ruler of the prairies, and master of 
 its beasts. The fishes in the ‘ river of troubled 
 waters ’ know him, and come at his call. He is 
 a fox in counsel; an eagle in sight; a grizzly 
 bear in combat. A Dahcotah is a man ! ” After 
 waiting for the low murmur of approbation which 
 followed this flattering portrait of his people to 
 subside, the Teton continued : “ What is a Paw- 
 nee ? A thief, who only steals from women ; a 
 red-skin who is not a brave ; a hunter that begs 
 for his venison. In council he is a squirrel, hop- 
 ping from place to place ; he is an owl, that goes 
 on the prairies at night : in battle he is an elk, 
 whose legs are long. A Pawnee is a woman.” An- 
 other pause succeeded, during which a yell of de- 
 light broke from several mouths, and a demand 
 was made that the taunting words should be trans- 
 lated to the unconscious subject of their biting 
 contempt. The old man took his cue from the 
 eyes of Mahtoree, and complied. Hard-Heart lis- 
 tened gravely, and then, as if apprised that his 
 time to speak had not arrived, he once more bent 
 his. look on the vacant air. The orator watched 
 his countenance with an expression that mani- 
 fested how iuextinguishable was the, hatred he 
 felt for the only chief, far and near, whose fame 
 might advantageously be compared with his own. 
 Though disappointed in not having touched the 
 pride of one whom he regarded as a boy, he pro- 
 ceeded — what he considered as far more impor- 
 tant to quicken the tempers of the men of hi* 
 
INDIAN ELOQUENCE. 
 
 151 
 
 own tribe, in order that they might be prepared 
 to work his savage purposes. “ If the earth was 
 covered with rats, which are good for nothing,” 
 he said, “there would be no room for buffaloes, 
 which give food and clothes to an Indian. If the 
 prairies were covered with Pawnees, there would 
 be no room for the foot of a Dahcotah. A Loup 
 is a rat, a Sioux a heavy buffalo : let the buffaloes 
 tread upon the rats, and make room for them- 
 selves.'” 
 
 “My brothers, a little child has spoken to 
 you. He tells you his hair is not gray, but fro- 
 zen ; that the grass will not grow where a pale-face 
 has died ! Does he know the color of the blood 
 of a Big-knife ? No ! I know he does not ; he 
 has never seen it. What Dahcotah besides Mah- 
 toree has ever struck a pale-face? Not one. 
 But Mahtoree must be silent. Every Teton will 
 shut his ears when he speaks. The scalps over 
 his lodge were taken by the women. They were 
 taken by Mahtoree, and he is a woman. His 
 mouth is shut ; he waits for the feasts, to sing 
 among the girls ! ” 
 
 Notwithstanding the exclamations of regret 
 and resentment which followed so abasing a dec- 
 laration, the chief took his seat, as if determined 
 to speak no more. But the murmurs grew louder 
 and more general, and there were threatening 
 symptoms that the council would dissolve itself 
 in confusion ; and he arose and resumed his 
 speech, by changing his manner to the fierce and 
 hurried enunciation of a warrior bent on re- 
 venge. 
 
 “ Let my young men go look for Tetao ! ” he 
 cried ; “ they will find his scalp drying in Paw- 
 nee smoke. Where is the son of Bohrecheena ? 
 His bones are whiter than the faces of his mur- 
 derers. Is Mahhah asleep in his lodge ? You 
 know it is many moons since he started for the 
 blessed prairies ; would he were here, that he 
 might say of what color was the hand that took 
 his scalp ! ” 
 
 In this strain the artful chief continued for 
 many minutes, calling those warriors by name 
 who were known to have met their deaths in 
 battle with the Pawnees, or in some of those law- 
 less frays which so often occurred between the 
 Sioux bands and a class of white men who were 
 but little removed from them in the qualities of 
 civilization. Time was not given to reflect on 
 the merits, or rather the demerits, of most of 
 the different individuals to whom he alluded, in 
 consequence of the rapid manner in which he ran 
 over their names ; but so cunningly did he time 
 his events, and so thrillingly did he make his 
 appeals, aided as they were by the power of his 
 
 deep-toned and stirring voice, that each of them 
 struck an answering chord in the breast of some 
 one of his auditors. 
 
 It was in the midst of one of his highest 
 flights of eloquence, that a man, so aged as to 
 walk with the greatest difficulty, entered the 
 very centre of the circle, and took his stand 
 directly in front of the speaker. An ear of great 
 acuteness might possibly have detected that the 
 tones of the orator faltered a little, as his flash- 
 ing look first fell on this unexpected object; 
 though the change was so trifling, that none but 
 such as thoroughly knew the parties would have 
 suspected it. The stranger had once been as dis- 
 tinguished for his beauty and proportions as had 
 been his eagle eye for its irresistible and terrible 
 glance. But his skin w r as now wrinkled and his 
 features furrowed with so many scars as to have 
 obtained for him, half a century before, from the 
 French of the Canadas, a title which has been borne 
 by so many of the heroes of France, and which 
 had now been adopted into the language of the 
 wild horde of whom we are writing, as the one 
 most expressive of the deeds of their own brave. 
 The murmur of “ Le Balafre ! ” that ran through 
 the assembly when he appeared, announced not 
 only his name and the high estimation of his char- 
 acter, but how extraordinary his visit was con- 
 sidered. As he neither spoke nor moved, how- 
 ever, the sensation created by his appearance 
 soon subsided, and then every eye was again 
 turned upon the speaker, and every ear once 
 more drank in the intoxication of his maddening 
 appeals. 
 
 It would have been easy to have traced the 
 triumph of Mahtoree in the reflecting counte- 
 nances of his auditors. It was not long before a 
 look of ferocity and of revenge was to be seen 
 seated on the grim visages of most of the war- 
 riors, and each new and crafty allusion to the 
 policy of extinguishing their enemies was fol- 
 lowed by fresh and less restrained bursts of ap- 
 probation. In the height of this success the Te- 
 ton closed his speech by a rapid appeal to the 
 pride and hardihood of his native band, and sud- 
 denly took his seat. 
 
 In the midst of the murmurs of applause 
 which succeeded so remarkable an effort of elo- 
 quence, a low, feeble, and hollow voice was heard 
 rising on the ear, as if it rolled from the inmost 
 cavities of the human chest, and gathered strength 
 and energy as it issued into the air. A solemn 
 stillness followed the sounds, and then the lips of 
 the aged man were first seen to move. 
 
 “ The day of Le Balafre is near its end,” were 
 the first words that were distinctly audible. “ He 
 
152 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 is like a buffalo on whom the hair will grow no 
 longer. He will soon be ready to leave his lodge, 
 to go in search of another that is far from the vil- 
 lages of the Sioux ; therefore, what he has to say 
 concerns not him, but those he leaves behind him. 
 His words are like the fruit on the tree, ripe, and 
 fit to be given to chiefs. 
 
 “ Many snows have fallen since Le Balafre has 
 been found on the war-path. His blood has been 
 very hot, but it has had time to cool. The Wah- 
 coudah gives him dreams of war no longer ; he 
 sees that it is better to live in peace. 
 
 “ My brothers, one foot is turned to the happy 
 hunting-grounds, the other will soon follow, and 
 then an old chief will be seen looking for the 
 prints of his father’s moccasins, that he may 
 make no mistake, but be sure to come before the 
 Master of Life by the same path as so many good 
 Indians have already travelled. But who will 
 follow ? Le Balafre has no son. His oldest has 
 ridden too many Pawnee horses ; the bones of 
 the youngest have been gnawed by Konza dogs ? 
 Le Balafre has come to look for a young arm on 
 which he may lean, and to find a son, that when 
 he is gone his lodge may not be empty. Tache- 
 cana, the skipping fawn of the Tetons, is too weak 
 to prop a warrior who is old. She looks before 
 her, and not backward. Her mind is in the 
 lodge of her husband.” 
 
 The enunciation of the veteran warrior had 
 been calm, but distinct and decided. His declara- 
 tion was received in silence ; and though several 
 of the chiefs, who were in the counsels of Mah- 
 toree, turned their eyes on their leader, none pre- 
 sumed to oppose so aged and so venerated a 
 brave, in a resolution that was strictly in con- 
 formity to the usages of the nation. The Teton 
 himself was content to await the result with seem- 
 ing composure, though the gleams of ferocity 
 that played about his eye, occasionally betrayed 
 the nature of those feelings with which he wit- 
 nessed a procedure that was likely to rob him of 
 that one of all his intended victims whom he 
 most hated. 
 
 In the mean time Le Balafre moved with a 
 slow and painful step toward the captives. He 
 stopped before the person of Hard-Heart, whose 
 faultless form, unchanging eye, and loftly mien, 
 he contemplated long, with high and evident sat- 
 isfaction. Then making a gesture of authority, 
 he awaited until his order had been obeyed, and 
 the youth was released from the post and his 
 bonds by the same blow of the knife. When the 
 young warrior was led nearer to his dimmed and 
 failing sight, the examination was renewed with 
 strictness of scrutiny, and that admiration which 
 
 physical excellence is so apt to excite in the 
 breast of a savage. 
 
 “It is good,” the wary veteran murmured, 
 when he found that all hi3 skill in the requisites 
 of a brave could detect no blemish ; “ this is a 
 leaping panther ! — Does my son speak with the 
 tongue of a Teton ? ” 
 
 The intelligence which lighted the eyes of the 
 captive, betrayed how well he understood the 
 question, but still he was far too haughty to com- 
 municate his ideas through the medium of a lan- 
 guage that belonged to a hostile people. Some 
 of the surrounding warriors explained to the old 
 chief that the captive was a Pawnce-Loup. 
 
 “ My son opened his eyes on the ‘ waters of 
 the wolves,’ ” said Le Balafre, in the language of 
 that nation, “ but he will shut them in the bend 
 of the ‘ river with a troubled stream.’ He was 
 born a Pawnee, but he will die a Dahcotah. Look 
 at me. I am a sycamore that once covered many 
 with my shadow. The leaves are fallen and the 
 branches begin to drop. But a single sucker is 
 springing from my roots ; it is a little vine, and 
 it winds itself about a tree that is green. I have 
 long looked for one fit to grow by my side. Now 
 have I found him. Le Balafre is no longer with- 
 out a son ; his name will not be forgotten when 
 he is gone ! — Men of the Tetons, I take this 
 youth into my lodge.” 
 
 No one was bold enough to dispute a right 
 that had so often been exercised by warriors far 
 inferior to the present speaker, and the adoption 
 was listened to in grave and respectful silence. 
 Le Balafre took his intended son by the arm, and, 
 leading him into the very centre of the circle, he 
 stepped aside with an air of triumph, in order 
 that the spectators might approve of his choice. 
 Mahtoree betrayed no evidence of his intentions, 
 but rather seemed to await a moment better 
 suited to the crafty policy of his character. The 
 more experienced and sagacious chiefs distinctly 
 foresaw the utter impossibility of two partisans so 
 renowned, so hostile, and who had so long been 
 rivals in fame, as their prisoner and their native 
 leader, existing amicably in the same tribe. Still 
 the character of Le Balafre was so imposing, and 
 the custom to which he had resorted so sacred, 
 that none dared to lift a voice in opposition to 
 the measure. They watched the result with in- 
 creasing interest, but with a coldness of demean- 
 or that concealed the nature of their inquietude. 
 From this state of embarrassment, and, as it 
 might readily have proved, of disorganization, the 
 tribe was unexpectedly relieved by the decision of 
 the one most interested in the success of the 
 aged chiefs designs. 
 
HARD-HEART AND HIS BENEFACTOR. 
 
 153 
 
 During the whole of the foregoing scene it 
 would have been difficult to have traced a single 
 distinct emotion in the lineaments of the captive. 
 He had heard his release proclaimed, with the 
 *ame indifference as the order to bind him to the 
 stake. But now that the moment had arrived 
 when it became necessary to make his election, he 
 spoke in a way to prove that the fortitude which 
 had brought him so distinguished a name, had in 
 no degree deserted him. 
 
 “ My father is very old, but he has not yet 
 looked upon every thing,” said Hard -Heart, in a 
 voice so clear as to be heard by all in presence. 
 “ He has never seen a buffalo change to a bat ; 
 he will never see a Pawnee become a Sioux.” 
 
 There was a suddenness, and yet a calmness, 
 in the manner of delivering this decision, which 
 assured most of the auditors that it was unalter- 
 able. The heart of Le Balafre, however, was 
 yearning toward the youth, and the fondness of 
 age was not so readily repulsed. Reproving the 
 burst of admiration and triumph to which the 
 boldness of the declaration and the freshened 
 hopes of revenge had given rise, by turning his 
 gleaming eye around the band, the veteran again 
 addressed his adopted child, as if his purpose was 
 not to be denied. 
 
 “ It is well,” he said ; “ such are the words a 
 brave should use, that the warriors may see his 
 heart. The day has been when the voice of Le 
 Balafr6 was loud'est among the lodges of the 
 Konzas. But the root of a white-hair is wisdom. 
 My child will show the Tetons that he is a brave 
 by striking their enemies. — Men of the Dahcotahs, 
 this is my son ! ” 
 
 The Pawnee hesitated a moment, and then, 
 stepping in front of the chief, he took his bard 
 and wrinkled hand, and laid it with reverence 
 on his head, as if to acknowledge the extent of 
 his obligation. Then, recoiling a step, he raised 
 his person to its greatest elevation, and looked 
 upon the hostile band by whom he was environed, 
 with an air of loftiness and disdain, as he spoke 
 aloud in the language of the Sioux : 
 
 “ Hard-Heart has looked at himself within and 
 without. He has thought of all he has done in 
 the hunts and in the wars. Everywhere he is the 
 same. There is no change. He is in all things 
 a Pawnee. He has struck so many Tetons that 
 he could never eat in their lodges. His arrows 
 would fly backward ; the point of his lance would 
 De on the wrong end ; their -friends would weep 
 at every whoop he gave ; their enemies would 
 laugh. Do the Tetons know a Loup ? Let them 
 ook at him again; Hi3 head is painted ; his arm 
 .s flesh ; his heart is rock. When the Tetons see 
 
 62 
 
 the sun come from the Rocky Mountains, and 
 move toward the land of the pale-faces, the mind 
 of Hard-Heart will soften, and his spirit will 
 become Sioux. Until that day he will live and 
 die a Pawnee.” 
 
 A yell of delight, in which admiration and 
 ferocity were strangely mingled, interrupted the 
 speaker, and but too clearly announced the charac- 
 ter of his fate. The captive awaited a moment for 
 the commotion to subside, and then, turning again 
 to Le Balafre, he continued, in tones conciliating 
 and kind, as if he felt the propriety of soften- 
 ing his refusal, in a manner not to wound the pride 
 of one who would so gladly be his benefactor : 
 
 “ Let my father lean heavier on the fawn of 
 the Dahcotahs,” he said ; “ she is weak now, but 
 as her lodge fills with young, she will be stronger. 
 See,” he added, directing the eyes of the other to 
 the earnest countenance of the attentive trapper ; 
 “ Hard-Heart is not without a gray-head to show 
 him the path to the blessed prairies. If he ever 
 has another father, it shall be that just warrior.’'' 
 
 Le Balafre turned away in disappointment 
 from the youth, and approached the stranger who 
 had thus anticipated his design. The examina- 
 tion between these two aged men was long, mu- 
 tual, and curious. It was not easy to detect the 
 real character of the trapper, through the mask 
 which the hardships of so many years had laid 
 upon his features, especially when aided by his 
 wild and peculiar attire. Some moments elapsed 
 before the Teton spoke, and then it was in doubt 
 whether he addressed one like himself, or some 
 wanderer of that race who, he had heard, were 
 spreading themselves like hungry locusts through- 
 out the land. 
 
 “ The head of my brother is very white,” he 
 said ; “ but the eye of Le Balafre is no longer 
 like the eagle’s. Of what color is his skin ? ” 
 
 “ The Wahconduh made me like these you see 
 waiting for a Dahcotah judgment ; but fair and 
 foul has colored me darker than the skin of a fox. 
 What of that? though the bark is ragged and 
 riven, the heart of the tree is sound.” 
 
 “ My brother is a Big-knife ! Let him turn 
 his face toward the setting sun, and open his eyes. 
 Does he see the salt lake beyond the moun- 
 tains ? ” 
 
 “ The time has been, Teton, when few could 
 see the white on an eagle’s head farther than I ; 
 but the glare of fourscore-and-seven winters has 
 dimmed my eyes, and but little can I boast of 
 sight in my latter days. Does the Sioux think a 
 pale-face is a god, that he can look through 
 hills!” 
 
 “ Then let my brother look at me. I am nigh 
 
154 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 him, and he can see that I am a foolish red-man. 
 Why cannot his people see every thing, since they 
 crave all ? ” 
 
 “ I understand you, chief, nor will I gainsay 
 the justice of your words, seeing that they are 
 too much founded in truth. But, though born of 
 the race you love so little, my worst enemy, not 
 even a lying Mingo, would dare to say that I ever 
 laid hands on the goods of another, except such 
 as were taken in manful warfare ; or that I ever 
 coveted more ground than the Lord has intended 
 each man to fill.” 
 
 “ And yet my brother has come among the 
 red-skins to find a son? ” 
 
 The trapper laid a finger on the naked shoul- 
 der of Le Balafre, and looked into his scarred 
 countenance with a wistful and confidential ex- 
 pression, as he answered : 
 
 “ Ay ; but it was only that I might do good to 
 the boy. If you think, Dahcotah, that I adopted 
 the youth in order to prop my age, you do as much 
 injustice to my good-will as you seem to know 
 little of the merciless intentions of your own 
 people. I have made him my son, that he may 
 know that one is left behind him. — Peace, Hector 
 peace ! Is this decent, pup, when gray-heads are 
 counselling together, to break in upon their dis- 
 course with the winnings of a hound ? — The dog 
 is old, Teton ; and, though well taught in respect 
 to behavior, he is getting, like ourselves, I fancy, 
 something forgetful of the fashions of his youth.” 
 
 Further discourse, between these veterans, 
 was interrupted by a discordant yell, which burst 
 at that moment from the lips of the dozen with- 
 ered crones who have already been mentioned as 
 having forced themselves into a conspicuous part 
 of the circle. The outcry was excited by a sudden 
 change in the air of Hard-Heart. When the old 
 men turend toward the youth, they saw him stand- 
 ing in the very centre of the ring, with his head 
 erect, his eye fixed on vacancy, one leg advanced 
 and an arm a little raised, as if all his faculties 
 were absorbed in the act of listening. A smile 
 lighted his countenance for a single moment, and 
 then the whole man sank again into his former 
 look of dignity and coldness, suddenly recalled 
 to self-possession. The movement had been con- 
 strued into contempt, and even the tempers of 
 the chiefs began to be excited. Unable to re- 
 strain their fury, the women broke into the circle 
 in a body, and commenced their attack by load- 
 ing the captive with the most bitter revilings. 
 They boasted of the various exploits which their 
 sons had achieved at the expense of the different 
 tribes of the Pawnees. They undervalued his 
 own reputation, and told him to look at Mahtoree, 
 
 if he had never yet seen a warrior. They accused 
 him of having been suckled by a doe, and of hav- 
 ing drunk in cowardice with his mother’s milk. 
 In short, they lavished upon their unmoved cap- 
 tive a torrent of that vindictive abuse in which 
 the women of the savages are so well known to 
 excel, but which has been too often described to 
 need a repetition here. 
 
 The effect of this outbreaking was inevitable. 
 Le Balafre turned away disappointed, and hid 
 himself in the crowd ; while the trapper, whose 
 honest features were working with inward emo- 
 tion, pressed nigher to his young friend, as those, 
 who are linked to the criminal by ties so strong 
 as to brave the opinions of men, are often seen 
 to stand about the place of execution to support 
 his dying moments. The excitement soon spread 
 amoug the inferior warriors, though the chiefs 
 still forbore to make the signal which committed 
 the victim to their mercy. Mahtoree, who had 
 awaited such a movement among his fellows, with 
 the wary design of concealing his own. jealous 
 hatred, soon grew weary of delay, and, by a 
 glance of his eye, encouraged the tormentors to 
 proceed. 
 
 Weucha, who, eager for this sanction, had 
 long stood watching the countenance of the chief, 
 bounded forward at the signal like a bloodhound 
 loosened from the leash. Forcing his way into 
 the centre of the hags, who were already proceed- 
 ing from abuse to violence, he reproved their im- 
 patience, and bade them wait until a warrior had 
 begun to torment, and then they should see their 
 victim shed tears like a woman. 
 
 The heartless savage commenced his efforts 
 by flourishing his tomahawk about the head of 
 the captive, in such a manner as to give reason 
 to suppose that each blow would bury the weapon 
 in the flesh, while it was so governed as not to 
 touch the skin. To this customary expedient, 
 Hard-Heart was perfectly insensible. His eye 
 kept the same steady, riveted look on the air 
 though the glittering axe described in its evolu- 
 tions a bright circle of light before his counte- 
 nance. Frustrated in this attempt, the callous 
 Sioux laid the cold edge on the naked head of his 
 victim, and began to describe the different man 
 ners in which a prisoner might be flayed. The 
 women kept time to his cruelties with their taunts, 
 and endeavored to force some expression of the 
 fingerings of nature from the insensible features 
 of the Pawnee. But he evidently reserved him- 
 self for the chiefs, and for those moments of ex- 
 treme anguish, when the loftiness of his spirit 
 might evince itself in a manner better becoming 
 his high and untarnished reputation. 
 
DEATH OF WEUCHA. 
 
 155 
 
 The eyes of the trapper followed every move- 
 ment of the tomahawk with the interest of a real 
 father, until at length, unable to command his 
 indignation, he exclaimed : 
 
 “ My son has forgotten his cunning. This is a 
 low-minded Indian, and one easily hurried into 
 folly. I cannot do the thing myself, for my tra- 
 ditions forbid a dying warrior to revile his per- 
 secutors, but the gifts of a red-skin are different. 
 Let the Pawnee say the bitter words, and pur- 
 chase an easy death. I will answer for his suc- 
 cess, provided he speaks before the grave men set 
 their wisdom to back the folly of this fool.” 
 
 The savage Sioux, who heard his words with- 
 out comprehending their meaning, turned to the 
 speaker and menaced him with death for his te- 
 merity. 
 
 “ Ay, work your will,” said the unflinching 
 old man ; “ I am as ready now as I shall be to- 
 morrow. Though it would be a death that an 
 honest man might not wish to die. Look at that 
 noble Pawnee, Teton, and see what a red-skin may 
 become, who fears the Master of Life, and follows 
 his laws. How many of your people has he sent 
 to the distant prairies ! ” he continued, in a sort 
 of pious fraud, thinking that, while the danger 
 menaced himself, there could surely be no sin in 
 extolling the merits of another ; ‘‘ how many 
 howling Siouxes has he struck like a warrior in 
 open combat, while arrows were sailing in the air 
 plentier than flakes of falling snow ! Go ! will 
 Weucha speak the name of one enemy he has 
 ever struck ? ” 
 
 “Hard -Heart!” shouted the Sioux, turning 
 in his fury and aiming a deadly blow at the head 
 of his victim. His arm fell into the hollow of the 
 captive’s hand. For a single moment the two 
 stood, as if entranced, in that attitude, the one 
 paralyzed by so unexpected a resistance, and the 
 other bending his head, not to meet his death, 
 but in the act of the most intense attention. The 
 women screamed with triumph, for they thought 
 the nerves of the captive had at length failed him. 
 The trapper trembled for the honor of his friend; 
 and Hector, as if conscious of what was passing, 
 raised his nose into the air, and uttered a piteous 
 bowl. 
 
 But the Pawnee hesitated only for that mo- 
 ment. Raising the other hand like lightning, 
 the tomahawk flashed in the air, and Weucha 
 sank to his feet, brained to the eye. Then cut- 
 ting a way with the bloody weapon, he darted 
 through the opening left by the frightened wom- 
 en, and seemed to descend the declivity at a sin- 
 gle bound. 
 
 Had a bolt from heaven fallen in the midst 
 
 of the Teton band, it would not have occasioned 
 greater consternation than this act of desperate 
 hardihood. A shrill, plaintive cry burst from the 
 lips of all the women, and there was a moment 
 that even the oldest warriors appeared to have 
 lost their faculties. This stupor endured only 
 for the instant. It was succeeded by a yell of 
 revenge that burst from a hundred throats, while 
 as many warriors started forward at the cry, bent 
 on the most bloody retribution. But a powerful 
 and authoritative call from Mahtoree arrested ev- 
 ery foot. The chief, in whose countenance disap- 
 pointment and rage were struggling with the af- 
 fected composure of his station, extended an arm 
 toward the river, and the whole mystery was 
 explained. 
 
 Hard-Heart had already crossed half the bot- 
 tom which lay between the acclivity and the 
 water. At this precise moment a band of armed 
 and mounted Pawnees turned a swell, and gal- 
 loped to the margin of the stream, into which the 
 plunge of the fugitive was distinctly heard. A 
 few minutes sufficed for his vigorous arm to con- 
 quer the passage, and then the shout from the 
 opposite shore told the humbled Tetons the whole 
 extent of the triumph of their adversaries. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 “ If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, let him fly ; the 
 curses he shall have, the tortures he shall feel, will break 
 the back of man, the heart of monster.” 
 
 Shakespeabb. 
 
 It will readily be seen that the event just re- 
 lated was attended by an extraordinary sensation 
 among the Sioux. In leading the hunters of the 
 band back to the encampment, their chief had 
 neglected none of the customary precautions of 
 Indian prudence, in order that his trail might 
 escape the eyes of his enemies. It would seem, 
 however, that the Pawnees had not only made the 
 dangerous discovery, but had managed with great 
 art to draw nigh the place by the only side on 
 which it was thought unnecessary to guard the 
 approaches with the usual line of sentinels. The 
 latter, who were scattered along the different lit- 
 tle eminences which lay in the rear of the lodges, 
 were among the last to be apprised of the dan- 
 ger. 
 
 In such a crisis there was little time for delib- 
 eration. It was by exhibiting the force of his 
 character in scenes of similar difficulty, that 
 Mahtoree had obtained and strengthened his 
 ascendency among his people, nor did he seem 
 
156 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 likely to lose it by the manifestation of any in- 
 decision on the present occasion. In the midst 
 of the screams of the young, the shrieks of the 
 women, and the wild howlings of the crones, 
 which were sufficient of themselves to have created 
 a chaos in the thoughts of one less accustomed 
 to act in emergencies, he promptly asserted his 
 authority, issuing his orders with the coolness of 
 a veteran. 
 
 While the warriors were arming, the boys 
 were dispatched to the bottom for the horses. 
 The tents were hastily struck by the women, and 
 disposed of on such of the beasts as were not deemed 
 fit to be trusted in combat. The infants were 
 cast upon the backs of their mothers ; and those 
 children who were of a size to march were driven 
 to the rear, like a herd of less reasoning animals. 
 Though these several movements were made amid 
 outcries and a clamor that likened the place to 
 another Babel, they were executed with incredi- 
 ble alacrity and intelligence. 
 
 In the mean time, Mahtoree neglected no duty 
 that belonged to his responsible station. From 
 the elevation on which he stood, he could com- 
 mand a perfect view of the force and evolutions 
 of the hostile party. A grim smile lighted his 
 visage, when he found that, in point of numbers, 
 his own band was greatly the superior. Notwith- 
 standing this advantage, however, there were 
 other points of inequality, which would probably 
 have a tendency to render his success in the ap- 
 proaching conflict exceedingly doubtful. His 
 people were the inhabitants of a more northern 
 and less hospitable region than their enemies, and 
 were far from being rich in that species of prop- 
 erty, horses and arms, which constitutes the 
 most highly-prized wealth of a Western Indian. 
 The band in view was mounted to a man ; and, as 
 it had come so far to rescue, or to revenge, their 
 greatest partisan, he had no reason to doubt its 
 being composed entirely of braves. On the other 
 hand, many of his followers were far better in a 
 hunt than in a combat ; men who might serve to 
 divert the attention of his foes, but from whom he 
 could expect little desperate service. Still, his flash- 
 ing eye glanced over a body of warriors on whom he 
 had often relied, and who had never deceived him ; 
 and though, in the precise position in which he 
 found himself, he felt no disposition to precipi- 
 tate the conflict, he certainly would have had no 
 intention to avoid it, had not the presence of his 
 women and children placed the option altogether 
 in the power of his adversaries. 
 
 On the other hand, the Pawnees, so unexpect- 
 edly successful in their first and greatest object, 
 manifested no intention to drive matters to an is- 
 
 sue. The river was a dangerous barrier to pass, 
 in the face of a determined foe, and it would now 
 have been in perfect accordance with their cau- 
 tious policy, to have retired for a season, in order 
 that their onset might be made in the hours of 
 darkness and of seeming security. But there was 
 a spirit in their chief that elevated him, for the mo- 
 ment, above the ordinary expedients of savage war- 
 fare. His bosom burned with the desire to wipe out 
 that disgrace of which he had been the subject; 
 and it is possible that he believed the retiring 
 camp of the Sioux contained a prize that began 
 to have a value in his eyes far exceeding any that 
 could be found in fifty Teton . scalps. Let that be 
 as it might, Hard-Heart had no sooner received 
 the brief congratulations of his band, and com- 
 municated to the chiefs such facts as were impor- 
 tant to be known, than he prepared himself to act 
 such a part in the coming conflict as would at 
 once maintain his well-earned reputation and 
 gratify his secret wishes. A led horse, one that 
 had been long trained in the hunts, had been 
 brought to receive his master, with but little hope 
 that his services would ever be needed again in 
 this life. With a delicacy and consideration that 
 proved how much the generous qualities of the 
 youth had touched the feelings of his people, a 
 bow, a lance, and a quiver, were thrown across 
 the animal, which it had been intended to immo- 
 late on the grave of the young brave ; a species 
 of care that would have superseded the necessity 
 for the pious duty that the trapper had pledged 
 himself to perform. 
 
 Though Hard-Heart was sensible of the kind- 
 ness of his warriors, and believed that a chief, 
 furnished with such appointments, might depart 
 with credit for the distant hunting-grounds of the 
 Master of Life; he seemed equally disposed to 
 think that they might be rendered quite as useful 
 in the actual state of things. His countenance 
 lighted with stern pleasure, as he tried the elas- 
 ticity of the bow, and poised the well-balanced 
 spear. The glance he bestowed on the shield was 
 more cursory and indifferent ; but the exultation 
 with which he threw himself on the back of his 
 favored war-horse was so great as to break 
 through the forms of Indian reserve. He rode to 
 and fro among his scarcely less delighted warriors, 
 managing the animal with a grace and address 
 that no artificial rules can ever supply ; at times 
 flourishing his lance, as if to assure himself of his 
 seat, and at others examining critically into the 
 condition of the fusee, with which he had also 
 been furnished, with the fondness of one who was 
 miraculously restored to the possession of treas- 
 ures that constituted his pride and his happiness. 
 
THE HOSTILE BANDS. 
 
 157 
 
 At this particular moment, Mahtoree, having 
 completed the necessary arrangements, prepared 
 to make a more decisive movement. The Teton 
 had found no little embarrassment in disposing 
 of his captives. The tents of the squatter were 
 still in sight, and his wary cunning did not fail to 
 apprise him that it was quite as necessary to 
 guard against an attack from that quarter as to 
 watch the motions of his more open and more ac- 
 tive foes. His first impulse had been to make the 
 tomahawk suffice for the men, and to trust the 
 females under the same protection as the women 
 of his band ; but the manner in which many of 
 his braves continued to regard the imaginary 
 medicine of the Long-knives, forewarned him of 
 the danger of so hazardous an experiment on the 
 eve of a battle. It might be deemed the omen 
 of defeat. In this dilemma he motioned to a su- 
 perannuated warrior, to whom he had confided 
 the charge of the non-combatants, and, leading 
 him apart, he placed a finger significantly on his 
 shoulder, as he said, in a tone in which authority 
 was tempered by confidence: 
 
 “ When my young men are striking the Paw- 
 nees, give the women knives. Enough ; my fa- 
 ther is very old ; he does not want to hear wis- 
 dom from a boy.” 
 
 The grim old savage returned a look of fero- 
 cious assent, and then the mind of the chief ap- 
 peared to be at rest on this important subject. 
 From that moment he bestowed all his care on 
 the achievement of his revenge, and the mainte- 
 nance of his martial character. Throwing himself 
 on his horse, he made a sign, with the air of a 
 prince, to his followers, to imitate his example, in- 
 terrupting, without ceremony, the war-songs and 
 solemn rites by which many among them were 
 stimulating their spirits tQ deeds of daring. 
 When all were in order, the whole moved with 
 great steadiness and silence toward the margin of 
 the river. 
 
 The hostile bands were now separated by the 
 water. The width of the stream was too great to 
 admit of the use of the ordinary Indian missiles, 
 but a few useless shots were exchanged from the 
 fusees of the chiefs, more in bravado than with 
 any expectation of doing execution. As some 
 time was suffered to elapse in demonstrations and 
 abortive efforts, we shall leave them, for that pe- 
 riod, to return to such of our characters as re- 
 mained in the hands of the savages. 
 
 We have shed much ink in vain, and wasted 
 quires, that might possibly have been better em- 
 ployed, if it be necessary now to tell the reader 
 that few of the foregoing movements escaped the 
 observation of the experienced trapper. He had J 
 
 been, in common with the rest, astonished at the 
 sudden act of Hard-Heart ; and there was a single 
 moment when a feeling of regret and mortifica- 
 tion got the better of his longings to save the life 
 of the youth. The simple and well-intentioned 
 old man would have felt, at witnessing: any failure 
 of firmness on the part of a warrior who had so 
 strongly excited his sympathies, the same species 
 of sorrow that a Christian parent would suffer in 
 hanging over the dying moments of an impious 
 child. But when, instead of an impotent and un- 
 manly struggle for existence, he found that his 
 friend had forborne, with the customary and dig- 
 nified submission of an Indian warrior, until an 
 opportunity had offered to escape, and that he 
 had then manifested the spirit and decision of the 
 most gifted brave, his gratification became nearly 
 too powerful to be concealed. In the midst of 
 the wailing and commotion which succeeded the 
 death of Weucha and the escape of the captive, 
 he placed himself nigh the persons of his white 
 associates, with a determination of interfering, at 
 every hazard, should the fury of the savages take 
 that direction. The appearance of the hostile 
 band spared him, however, so desperate and prob- 
 ably so fruitless an effort, and left him to pursue 
 his observations and to mature his plans more at 
 leisure. 
 
 He particularly remarked that, while by far 
 the greater part of the women, and all the chil- 
 dren, together with the effects of the party, were 
 hurried to the rear, probably with an order to se- 
 crete themselves in some of the adjacent woods, 
 the tent of Mahtoree himself was left stand- 
 ing, and its contents undisturbed. Two chosen 
 horses, however, stood near by, held by a couple 
 of youths, who were too young to go into conflict, 
 and yet of an age to understand the management 
 of the beasts. The trapper perceived in this ar- 
 rangement the reluctance of Mahtoree to trust 
 his newly-found “ flowers ” beyond the reach of 
 his eye ; and, at the same time, his forethought, 
 in providing against a reverse of fortune. Nei- 
 ther had the manner of the Teton, in giving his 
 commission to the old savage, nor the fierce 
 pleasure with which the latter had received the 
 bloody charge, escaped his observation. From 
 all these mysterious movements, the old man was 
 aware that a crisis was at hand, and he sum- 
 moned the utmost knowledge he had acquired, in 
 so long a life, to aid him in the desperate con- 
 juncture. While musing on the means to be em- 
 ployed, the doctor again attracted his attention 
 to himself by a piteous appeal for assistance. 
 
 “ Venerable trapper or. as I may now say, lib- 
 erator,” commenced the dolorous Obed, “ it would 
 
158 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 seeiu that a fitting time has at length arrived to 
 dissever the unnatural and altogether irregular 
 connection which exists between my inferior mem- 
 bers and the body of Asinus. Perhaps if such a 
 portion of my limbs were released as might leave me 
 master of the remainder, and this favorable oppor- 
 tunity were suitably improved, by making a forced 
 march toward the settlements, all hopes of pre- 
 serving the treasures of knowledge, of which I am 
 the unworthy receptacle, would not be lost. The 
 importance of the results is surely worth the haz- 
 ard of the experiment.” 
 
 “ I know not, I know not,” returned the delib- 
 erate old man; “ the vermin and reptiles, which 
 you bear about you, were intended by the Lord for 
 the prairies, and I see no good in sending them 
 into regions that may not suit their natur’s. And, 
 moreover, you may be of great and particular use 
 as you now sit on the aSs; though it creates no 
 wonder in my mind to perceive that you are ig- 
 norant of it, seeing that usefulness is altogether a 
 new calling to so bookish a man.” 
 
 “Of what service can I be in this painful 
 thraldom, in which the animal functions are in a 
 manner suspended, and the spiritual or intellect- 
 ual blinded by the secret sympathy that unites 
 mind to matter ? There is likely to be blood spilt 
 between yonder adverse hosts of heathens : and, 
 though but little desiring the office, it would be 
 better that I should employ myself in surgical 
 experiments, than in thus wasting the precious 
 moments, mortifying both soul and body.” 
 
 It is little that a red-skin would care to have 
 a physician to his hurts, while the whoop is ring- 
 ing in his ears. Patience is a virtue in an Indian, 
 and can be no shame to a Christian white man. 
 Look at these hags of squaws, friend doctor; I 
 have no judgnent in savage tempers, if they are 
 not bloody-minded, and ready to work their ac- 
 cursed pleasures on us all. Now, so long as you 
 keep upon the ass, and maintain the fierce look 
 which is far from being your natural gift, fear of 
 so great a medicine may serve to keep down their 
 courage. I am placed here, like a general at the 
 opening of the battle, and it has become my duty 
 to make such use of alt my force as, in my judg- 
 ment, each is best fitted to perform. If I know 
 these niceties, you will be more serviceable for 
 your countenance just now than in any more stir- 
 ring exploits.” 
 
 “ Harkee, old trapper,” shouted Paul, whose 
 patience could no longer maintain itself under the 
 calculating and prolix explanations of the other, 
 “ suppose you cut two things I can name, short 
 off? That is to say, your conversation, which is 
 agreeable enough oyer a well-baked buffalo’s 
 
 hump, and these damnable thongs of hide, 
 which, according to my experience, can be pleas- 
 ant nowhere. A single stroke of your knife 
 would be of more service, just now, than the long- 
 est speech that was ever made in a Kentucky 
 court-house.” 
 
 “ Ay, court-houses are the ‘ happy hunting- 
 grounds,’ as a red-skin would say, for them that 
 are born with gifts no better than such as lie in 
 the tongue. I was carried into one of the lawless 
 holes myself once, and it was all about a thing of 
 no more value than the skin of a deer. The Lord 
 forgive them ! — the Lord forgive them ! — they knew 
 no better, and they did according to their weak 
 judgments, and therefore the more are they to be 
 pitied ; and yet it was a solemn sight to see an 
 aged man, who had always lived in the air, laid 
 neck and heels by the law, and held up as a 
 spectacle for the women and boys of a wasteful 
 settlement to point their fingers at 1” 
 
 “If such be your opinions of confinement, 
 honest friend, you had better manifest the same 
 by putting us at liberty with as little delay as pos- 
 sible,” said Middleton, who, like his companion, 
 began to find the tardiness of his often-tried 
 companion quite as extraordinary as it was disa- 
 greeable. 
 
 “ I should greatly like to do the same ; espe- 
 cially in your behalf, captain, who, being a soldier, 
 might find not only pleasure but profit in examin- 
 ing, more at your ease, into the circumventions 
 and cunning of an Indian fight. As to our 
 friend, here, it is of but little matter how much 
 of this affair he examines, or how little, seeing 
 that a bee is not to be overcome in the same 
 manner as an Indian.” 
 
 “ Old man, this trifling with our misery is in- 
 considerate, to give*it a name no harsher — ” 
 
 “ Ay, your gran’ther was of a hot and hurry- 
 ing mind, and one must not expect that the young 
 of the panther will crawl the arth like the litter 
 of a porcupine. Now keep you both silent, and 
 what I say shall have the appearance of being 
 spoken concerning the movements that are going 
 on in the bottom ; all of which will serve to put 
 jealousy to sleep, and to shut the eyes of such as 
 rarely close them on wickedness and cruelty. In 
 the first place, then, you must know that I have 
 reason to think yonder treacherous Teton has left 
 an order to put us all to death, so soon as he 
 thinks the deed may be done secretly, and with- 
 out tumult.” 
 
 “ Great Heaven ! will you suffer us to be butch- 
 ered like unresisting sheep ? ” 
 
 “ Hist, captain, hist ! a hot temper is none 
 of the best, when cunning is more needed than 
 
RELEASE OF THE BEE-HUNTER. 
 
 159 
 
 blows.-— Ah, the Pawnee is a noble boy ! it would 
 do your heart good to see bow he draws off from 
 the river, in order to invite his enemies to cross ; 
 and yet, according to my failing sight, they count 
 two warriors to his one ! — But as I was saying, 
 little good comes of haste and thoughtlessness. 
 The facts are so plain that any child may see their 
 wisdom. The savages are of many minds as to 
 the manner of our treatment. Some fear us for 
 )ur color, and would gladly let us go, and other 
 some would show us the mercy that the doe re- 
 ceives from the hungry wolf. When opposition 
 gets fairly into the councils of a tribe, it is rare 
 that humanity is the gainer. Now, see you these 
 wrinkled and cruel-minded squaws — no, you can- 
 not see them as you lie, but nevertheless they are 
 here, ready and willing, like so many raging she- 
 bears, to work their will upon us so soon as the 
 proper time shall come.” 
 
 “ Harkee, old gentleman trapper,” interrupted 
 Paul, with a little bitterness in his manner ; “ do 
 you tell us these matters for our amusement, or 
 for your own ? If for ours, you may keep your 
 breath for the next race you run, as I am tickled 
 nearly to suffocation, already, with my part of the 
 fun.” 
 
 “ Hist ! ” said the trapper, cutting with great 
 dexterity and rapidity the thong which bound 
 one of the arms of Paul to his body, and drop- 
 ping his knife at the same time within reach of 
 the liberated hand. “ Hist, boy, hist ! that was a 
 lucky moment ! The yell from the bottom drew 
 the eyes of these blood-suckers in another quar- 
 ter, and so far we are safe. Now make a proper 
 use of your advantages ; but be careful that what 
 you do is done without being seen.” 
 
 “ Thank you for this small favor, old delibera- 
 tion,” muttered the bee-hunter, “ though it comes 
 like a snow in May, somewhat out of season.” 
 
 “Foolish boy !” reproachfully exclaimed the 
 other, who had moved to a little distance from 
 his friends, and appeared to be attentively regard- 
 ing the movements of the hostile parties, “ will 
 you never leatn to know the wisdom of patience ? 
 — And you, too, captain ; though a man myself 
 that seldom ruffles his temper by vain feelings, I 
 see that you are silent because you scorn to ask 
 favors any longer from one you think too slow to 
 grant them. No doubt ye are both young, and 
 filled with the pride of your strength and man- 
 hood, and I dare say you thought it only needful 
 to cut the thongs to leave you masters of the 
 ground. But he that has seen much is apt to 
 think much. Had I run like a bustling woman 
 to have given you freedom, these hags of the 
 Siouxes would have seen the same, and then 
 
 where would you both have foand yourselves ? 
 Under the tomahawk and the knife, like helpless 
 and outcrying children, though gifted with the 
 size and beards of men. Ask our friend, the bee- 
 hunter, in what condition he finds himself to 
 struggle with a Teton boy, after so many hours 
 of bondage ; much less with a dozen merciless 
 and blood-thirsty squaws ! ” 
 
 “ Truly, old trapper,” returned Paul, stretch- 
 ing his limbs, which were by this time entirely 
 released, and endeavoring to restore the sus- 
 pended circulation, “you have some judgmatical 
 notions in these matters. Now here am I, Paul 
 Hover, a man who will give in to few at wrestle 
 or race, nearly as helpless as the day I paid my 
 first visit to the house of old Paul, who is dead 
 and gone — the Lord forgive him any little blun- 
 ders he may have made while he tarried in Ken- 
 tucky ! Now there is my foot on the ground, so 
 far as eyesight has any virtue, and yet it would 
 take no great temptation to make me swear it 
 didn’t touch the earth by six inches. I say, 
 honest friend, since you have done so much, have 
 the goodness to keep these damnable squaws, of 
 whom you say so many interesting things, at a 
 little distance, till I have got the blood of this 
 arm in motion and am ready to receive them.” 
 
 The trapper made a sign that he perfectly 
 understood the case ; and he walked toward the 
 superannuated savage, who began to manifest an 
 intention of commencing his assigned task, leav- 
 ing the bee-hunter to recover the use of his limbs 
 as well as he could, and to put Middleton in a 
 similar situation to defend himself. 
 
 Mahtoree had not mistaken his man in select- 
 ing the one he did to execute his bloody purpose. 
 He had chosen one of those ruthless savages, 
 more or less of whom are to be found in every 
 tribe, who had purchased a certain share of mili- 
 tary reputation, by the exhibition of a hardihood 
 that found its impulses in an innate love of cruel- 
 ty. Contrary to the high and chivalrous senti- 
 ment which among the Indians of the prairies 
 renders it a deed of even greater merit to bear 
 off the trophy of victory from a fallen foe than to 
 slay him, he had been remarkable for preferring 
 the pleasure of destroying life to the glory of 
 striking the dead. While the more self-devoted 
 and ambitious braves were intent on personal 
 honor, he had always been seen, established be- 
 hind some favorable cover, depriving the wounded 
 of hope, by finishing that which a more gallant 
 warrior had begun. In all the cruelties of the 
 tribe he had ever been foremost ; and no Sioux 
 was so uniformly found on the side of merciless 
 1 counsels. 
 
160 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 He had awaited with an impatience which his 
 Jong-practised restraint could with difficulty sub- 
 due, for the moment to arrive when he might 
 proceed to execute the wishes of the great chief, 
 without whose approbation. and powerful protec- 
 tion he would not have dared to undertake a step 
 that had so many opposers in the nation. But 
 events had been hastening to an issue between 
 the hostile parties ; and the time had now arrived, 
 greatly to his secret and malignant joy, when he 
 was free to act his will. 
 
 The trapper found him distributing knives to 
 the ferocious hags, who received the presents, 
 chanting a low, monotonous s. ng, that recalled the 
 losses of their people in various conflicts with 
 the whites, and which extolled the pleasures and 
 glory of revenge. The appearance of such a 
 group was enough of itself to have deterred one, 
 less accustomed to such sights than the old man, 
 from trusting himself within the circle of their 
 wild and repulsive rites. li 
 
 Each of the crones, as she received the 
 weapon, commenced a slow and measured, but 
 ungainly step, around the savage, until the whole 
 were circling him in sort of magic dance. The 
 movements were timed, in some degree, by the 
 words of their songs, as were their gestures by 
 the ideas. When they spoke of their own losses, 
 they tossed their long straight locks of gray into 
 the air, or suffered them to fall in confusion upon 
 their withered necks ; but, as the sweetness of re- 
 turning blow for blow was touched upon by any 
 among them, it was answered by a common howl, 
 as well as by gestures that were sufficiently ex- 
 pressive of the manner in which they were ex- 
 citing themselves to the necessary state of fury. 
 
 Into the very centre of this ring of seeming 
 demons the trapper now stalked, with the same 
 calmness and observation as he would have 
 walked into a village church. No other change 
 was made by his appearance than a renewal of 
 the threatening gestures, with, if possible, a still 
 less equivocal display of their remorseless inten- 
 tions. Making a sign for them to cease, the old 
 man demanded — 
 
 “ Why do the mothers of the Tetons sing with 
 bitter tongues ? The Pawnee prisoners are not 
 yet in their village ; their young men have not 
 come back loaded with scalps ! ” 
 
 He was answered by a general howl, and a 
 few of the boldest of the furies even ventured to 
 \pproach him, flourishing their knives within 
 a dangerous proximity of his own steady eye- 
 balls. 
 
 “ It is a warrior you see, and no runner of the 
 Long-knives, whose face grows pale at the sight 
 
 of a tomahawk,” returned the trapper, without 
 moving a muscle. “ Let the Sioux women think : 
 if one white-skin dies, a hundred spring up where 
 he falls.” 
 
 Still the hags made no other answer than by 
 increasing their speed in the circle, and occasion- 
 ally raising the threatening expressions of their 
 chant into louder and more intelligible strains. 
 Suddenly one of the oldest and the most ferocious 
 of them all broke out of the ring, and skirred away 
 in the direction of her victims, like a rapacious 
 bird that, having wheeled on poised wings for the 
 time necessary to insure its object, makes the 
 final dart upon its prey. The others followed, a 
 disorderly and screaming flock, fearful of being 
 too late to reap their portion of the sanguinary 
 pleasure. 
 
 “ Mighty medicine of my people ! ” shouted the 
 old man, in the Teton tongue ; “ lift your voice 
 and speak, that the Sioux nation may hear. 
 
 Whether Asinus had acquired so much 
 knowledge by his recent experience as to know 
 the value of his sonorous properties, or the 
 strange spectacle of a dozen hags flitting past 
 him, filling the air with such sounds as were even 
 grating to the ears of an ass, most moved his 
 temper, it is certain that the animal did that 
 which Obed was requested to do, and probably 
 with far greater effect than if the naturalist had 
 striven with his mightiest effort to be heard. It 
 was the first time the strange beast had spoken, 
 since his arrival in the encampment. Admon- 
 ished by so terrible a warning, the hags scattered 
 themselves like vultures frightened from their 
 prey, still screaming, and but half diverted from 
 their purpose. 
 
 In the mean time the sudden appearance, and 
 the imminency of the danger, quickened the blood 
 in the veins of Paul and Middleton, more than all 
 their laborious frictions and physical expedients. 
 The former had actually risen to his feet, and as- 
 sumed an attitude which perhaps threatened more 
 than the worthy bee-hunter was able to perform, 
 and even the latter had mounted to his knees, and 
 shown a disposition to do good service for his 
 life. The unaccountable release of the captives 
 from their bonds was attributed, by the hags, to 
 the incantations of the medicine ; and the mistake 
 was probably of as much service as the miracu 
 lous and timely interposition of Asinus in then 
 favor. 
 
 “Now is the time to come out of our ambush- 
 ment,” exclaimed the old man, hastening to join 
 his friends, “ and to make open and manful war. 
 It would have been policy to have kept back the 
 struggle until the captain was in better condition 
 
THE CHALLENGE. 
 
 101 
 
 to join, but as we have unmasked our battery, why, 
 we must maintain the ground — ” 
 
 He was interrupted by feeling a gigantic hand 
 on his shoulder. Turning, under a sort of con- 
 fused impression that necromancy was actually 
 abroad in the place, he found that he was in the 
 hands of a sorcerer no less dangerous and power- 
 ful than Ishmael Bush. The file of the squatter’s 
 well-armed sons, that was seen issuing from be- 
 hind the still standing tent of Mahtoree, explained 
 at once not only the manner in which their rear 
 had been turned, while their attention had been 
 so earnestly bestowed on matters in front, but the 
 utter impossibility of resistance. 
 
 Neither Ishmael nor his sons deemed it neces- 
 sary to enter into prolix explanations. Middleton 
 and Paul were bound again, with extraordinary 
 silence and dispatch, and this time not even the 
 aged trapper was exempt from a similar fortune. 
 The tent was struck, the females placed upon the 
 horses, and the whole were on the way toward the 
 squatter’s encampment, with a celerity that might 
 well have served to keep alive the idea of magic. 
 
 During this summary and brief disposition of 
 things, the disappointed agent of Mahtoree and 
 his callous associates were seen flying across the 
 plain, in the direction of the retiring families; 
 and, when Ishmael left the spot with his prisoners 
 and his booty, the ground which had so lately 
 been alive with the bustle and life of an extensive 
 Indian encampment was as still and empty as any 
 other spot in those extensive wastes. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 “Is this proceeding just and honorable? ” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 During the occurrence of these events on the 
 upland plain, the warriors on the bottom had not 
 been idle. We left the adverse bands watching 
 one another on the opposite banks of the stream, 
 each endeavoring to excite its enemy to some act 
 of indiscretion, by the most reproachful taunts 
 and revilings. But the Pawnee chief was not 
 slow to discover that his crafty antagonist had no 
 objection to waste the time so idly, and, as they 
 mutually proved, in expedients that were so entire- 
 ly useless. He changed his plans, accordingly, and 
 withdrew from the bank, as has been already ex- 
 plained through the mouth of the trapper, in or- 
 der to invite the more numerous host of the Sioux 
 to cross. The challenge was not accepted, and 
 the Loups were compelled to frame some other 
 method to attain their end. 
 
 11 
 
 Instead of any longer throwing away the pre 
 cious moments in fruitless endeavors to induce 
 his foe to cross the stream, the young partisan of 
 the Pawnees led his troops, at a swift gallop, 
 along its margin, iD quest of some favorable spot 
 where, by a sudden push he might throw his own 
 band without loss to the opposite shore. The in- 
 stant his object was discovered, each mounted 
 Teton received a footman behind him, and Mah- 
 toree was still enabled to concentrate his whole 
 force against the effort. Perceiving that his de- 
 sign was anticipated, and unwilling to blow his 
 horses by a race that would disqualify them for 
 service, even after they had succeeded in outstrip- 
 ping the more heavily-burdened cattle of the Si- 
 oux, Hard-Heart drew up, and came to a dead 
 halt on the very margin of the water-course. 
 
 As the country was too open for any of the 
 usual devices of savage warfare, and time was so 
 pressing, the chivalrous Pawnee resolved to bring 
 on the result by one of those acts of personal 
 daring for which the Indian braves are so remark- 
 able, and by which they often purchase their’ 
 highest and dearest renown. The spot he had 
 selected was favorable to such a project. The 
 river, which throughout most of its course was 
 deep and rapid, had expanded there to more than 
 twice its customary width, and the rippling of its 
 waters proved that it flowed over a shallow bot- 
 tom. In the centre of the current there was an 
 extensive and naked bed of sand, but a little 
 raised above the level of the stream, and of a col- 
 or and consistency which warranted, to a prac- 
 tised eye, that it afforded a firm and safe founda- 
 tion for the foot. To this spot the partisan now 
 turned his wistful gaze, nor was he long in mak- 
 ing his decision. First speaking to his warriors 
 and apprising them of his intentions, he dashed 
 into the current, and partly by swimming, and 
 more by the use of his horse’s feet, he reached 
 the island in safety. 
 
 The experience of Hard-Heart had not de* 
 ceived hiim When his snorting steed issued from 
 the water, he found himself on a tremendous but 
 damp and compact bed of sand, that was admi- 
 rably adapted to the exhibition of the finest pow- 
 ers of the animal. The horse s«emed conscious, 
 of the advantage, and bore his warlike rider with 
 an elasticity of step and a loftiness of air that 
 would have done no discredit to the highest 
 trained and most generous charger. The blood 
 of the chief himself quickened with the excite- 
 ment of his situation. He sat the beast as if con- 
 scious that the eyes of two tribes were on his 
 movements; and as nothing could be more ac- 
 ceptable and grateful to his own band than this 
 
162 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 display of native grace and courage, so nothing 
 could be more taunting and humiliating to their 
 enemies. 
 
 The sudden appearance of the Pawnee on the 
 sands was announced among the Tetons by a gen- 
 eral yell of savage anger. A rush was made to 
 the shore, followed by a discharge of fifty ar- 
 rows and a few fusees, and on the part of several 
 brave3 there was a plain manifestation of a desire 
 to plunge into the water in order to punish the 
 temerity of their insolent foe. But a call and a 
 mandate from Mahtoree checked the rising and 
 nearly ungovernable temper of his band. So far 
 from allowing a single foot to be wet, or a repeti- 
 tion of the fruitless efforts of his people to drive 
 away their foe with missiles, the whole of the par- 
 ty was commanded to retire from the shore, while 
 he himself communicated his intentions to one or 
 two of his most favored followers. 
 
 When the Pawnees observed the rush of their 
 enemies, twenty warriors rode into the stream; 
 but so soon as they perceived that the Tetons had 
 withdrawn, they fell back to a man, leaving the 
 young chief to the support of his own often-tried 
 skill and well-established courage. The instruc- 
 tions of Hard-Heart on quitting his band had 
 been worthy of the self-devotion and daring of 
 his character. So long as single warriors came 
 against him he was to be left to the keeping of 
 the Wahcondah and his own arm ; but, should the 
 Sioux attack him in numbers, he was to be sus- 
 tained man for man, even to the extent of his 
 whole force. These generous orders were strict- 
 ly obeyed ; and, though so many hearts in the 
 troop panted to share in the glory and danger of 
 their partisan, not a warrior was found among 
 them all who did not know how to conceal his 
 impatience under the usual mask of Indian self- 
 restraint. They watched the issue with quick and 
 jealous eyes, nor did a single exclamation of sur- 
 prise escape them when they saw, as will soon be 
 apparent, that the experiment of their chief was 
 as likely to conduce to peace as to war. 
 
 Mahtoree was not long in communicating his 
 plans to his confidants, whom he as quickly dis- 
 missed to join their fellows in the rear. The Te- 
 ton entered a short distance into the stream and 
 halted. Here he raised his hands several times, 
 with the palms outward, and made several of 
 those other signs which are construed into a 
 pledge of amicable intentions among the inhabi- 
 tants of those regions. Then, as if to confirm 
 the sincerity of his faith, he cast his fusee to the 
 shore and entered deeper into the water, where he 
 again came to a stand in order to see in what man- 
 ner the Pawnee would receive his pledge of peace 
 
 The crafty Sioux had not made his calculations 
 on the noble and honest nature of his more youth- 
 ful rival in vain. Hard-Heart had continued gal- 
 loping across the sands during the discharge of 
 missiles and the appearance of a general onset, with 
 the same proud and confident mien as that with 
 which he had first braved the danger. When he 
 saw the well-known person of the Teton partisan 
 enter the river, he waved his hand in triumph, and 
 flourishing his lance he raised the thrilling war-cry 
 of his people as a challenge for him to come on. 
 But when he saw the signs of a truce, though deep- 
 ly practised in the treachery of savage combats, 
 he disdained to show a less manly reliance on him- 
 self than that which his enemy had seen fit to ex- 
 hibit. Riding to the farthest extremity of the 
 sands he cast his own fusee from him, and re 
 turned to the point whence he had started. 
 
 The two chiefs were now armed alike. Each 
 had his spear, his bow, his quiver, his little battle- 
 axe, and his knife ; and each had also a shield of 
 hides, which might serve as a means of defence 
 against a surprise from any of these weapons. The 
 Sioux no longer hesitated, but advanced deeper in 
 to the stream, and soon landed on a point of the isl 
 and which his courteous adversary had left free 
 for that purpose. Had one been there to watch the 
 countenance of Mahtoree as he crossed the water 
 that separated him from the most formidable and 
 the most hated of all his rivals, he might have 
 fancied that he could trace the gleamings of a se- 
 cret joy breaking through the cloud which deep 
 cunning and heartless treachery had drawn before 
 his swarthy visage ; and yet there would have 
 been moments when he might have believed that 
 the flashings of the Teton’s eye and the expansion 
 of his nostrils had their origin in a nobler senti- 
 ment and one more worthy of an Indian chief. 
 
 The Pawnee awaited the time of his enemy 
 with calmness and dignity. The Teton made a 
 short turn or two to curb the impatience of his 
 steed and to recover his seat after the effort of 
 crossing, and then he rode into the centre of the 
 place and invited the other, by a courteous gesture, 
 to approach. Hard-Heart drew nigh until he 
 found himself at a distance equally suited to ad 
 vanee or to retreat, and, in his turn, he came to a 
 stand, keeping his glowing eye riveted on that of 
 his enemy. A long and grave pause succeeded this 
 movement, during which these two distinguished 
 braves, who were now for the first time confronted 
 with arms in their hands, sat regarding each other 
 like warriors who knew how to value the merits 
 of a gallant foe, however hated. But the mien 
 of Mahtoree was far less stern and warlike than 
 that of the partisan of the Loups. Throwing hia 
 
THE CONFERENCE. 
 
 163 
 
 shield over his shoulder, as if to invite the con- 
 fidence of the other, he made a gesture of saluta- 
 tion, and was the first to apeak. 
 
 “ Let the Pawnees go upon the hills,” he said, 
 “ and look from the morning to the evening sun, 
 from the country of snows to the land of many 
 flowers, and they will see that the earth is very 
 large. Why cannot the red-men find room on it 
 for all their villages ? ” 
 
 “ Has the Teton ever known a warrior of the 
 Loups come to his towns to beg a place for his 
 lodge?” returned the young brave, with a look 
 in which pride and contempt were not attempted 
 to be concealed; “when the Pawnees hunt do 
 they send runners to ask Mahtoree if there are no 
 Sioux on the prairies ? ” 
 
 “ When there is hunger in the lodge of a war- 
 rior, he looks for the buffalo, which is given him 
 for food,” the Teton continued, struggling to keep 
 down the ire excited by the other’s scorn. “ The 
 Wahcondah has made more of them than he has 
 made Indians. He has not said, ‘This buffalo 
 shall be for a Pawnee, and that for a Dahcotah ; 
 this beaver for a Konza, and that for an Omahaw.’ 
 No; he said, ‘There arc enough. I love my red 
 children, and I have given them great riches. 
 The swiftest horse shall not go from the villages 
 of the Tetons to the village of the Loups in many 
 suns. It is far from the towns of the Pawnees 
 to the river of the Osages. There is room for all 
 that I love. Why, then, should a red-man strike 
 his brother ? ’ ” 
 
 Hard-IIeart dropped one end of his lance to 
 the earth, and, having also, cast his shield across 
 his shoulder, he sat leaning lightly on the weapon, 
 as he answered with a smile of no doubtful ex- 
 pression : 
 
 “ Are the Tetons weary of the hunts and of 
 the war-path ? Do they wish to cook the venison, 
 and not to kill it ? Do they intend to let the hair 
 cover their heads, that their enemies shall not 
 know where to find their scalps ? Go ; a Pawnee 
 warrior will never come among such Sioux squaws 
 for a wife ! ” 
 
 A frightful gleam of ferocity broke out of the 
 restraint of the Dahcotah’s countenance, as he 
 listened to this biting insult ; but he was quick 
 in subduing the telltale feeling, in an expression 
 much better suited to his present purpose. 
 
 “ This is the way a young chief should talk 
 of war,” he answered, with singular composure ; 
 “ but Mahtoree has seen the misery of more win- 
 ters than his brother. When the nights have 
 been long, and darkness has been in his lodge, 
 while the young men slept, he has thought of the 
 hardships of his people. He has said to himself, 
 
 “ Teton, count the scalps in your smoke. They are 
 all red but two ! Does the wolf destroy the wolf 
 or the rattler strike his brother ? You know they 
 do not ; therefore, Teton, are you wrong to go on 
 a path that leads to the village of a red-skin, with 
 a tomahawk in your hand.’ ” 
 
 “The Sioux would rob the warrior of his 
 fame ! He would say to his young men, ‘Go, dig 
 roots in the prairies, and find holes to bury your 
 tomahawks in ; you are no longer braves ! ’ ” 
 
 “ If the tongue of Mahtoree ever says thus,” 
 returned the crafty chief, with an appearance of 
 strong indignation, “let his women cut it out, and 
 burn it with the offals of the buffalo. No,” he 
 added, advancing a few feet nigher to the immov- 
 able Hard-Heart, as if in the sincerity of confi- 
 dence ; “ the red-man can never want an enemy : 
 they are plentier than the leaves on the trees, the 
 birds in the heavens, or the buffaloes on the 
 prairies. Let my brother open his eyes wide: 
 does he nowhere see an enemy he would strike ? ” 
 
 “How long is it since the Teton counted 
 the scalps of his warriors, that were drying in 
 the smoke of a Pawnee lodge ? The hand that 
 took them is here, and ready to make eighteen, 
 twenty.” 
 
 “ Now, let not the mind of my brother go on 
 a crooked path. If a red-skin strikes a red-skin 
 forever, who will be masters of the prairies, when 
 no warriors are left to say, ‘ They are mine ? ’ 
 Hear the voices of the old men. They tell us that 
 in their days many Indians have come out of the 
 woods under the rising sun, and that they have 
 filled the prairies with their complaints of the 
 robberies of the Long-knives. Where a pale- 
 face comes, a rdd-man cannot stay. The land is 
 too small. They are always hungry. See, they 
 are here already ! ” 
 
 As the Teton spoke, he pointed toward the 
 tents of Ishmael, which were in plain sight, and 
 then he paused, to await the effect of his words 
 on the mind of his ingenuous foe. Hard-Heart 
 listened like one in whom a train of novel ideas 
 had been excited by the reasoning of the other. 
 He mused for a minute before he demanded : 
 
 “ What do the wise chiefs of the Sioux say 
 must be done ? ” 
 
 “ They think that the moccasin of every pale- 
 face should be followed, like the track of the 
 bear. That the Long-knife, who comes upon the 
 prairie, should never go back. That the path 
 shall be open to those who come, and shut to 
 those who go. Yonder are many. They have 
 horses and guns. They are rich, but we are poor. 
 Will the Pawnees meet the Tetons in council ! 
 and when the sun is gone behind the Rocky Moun- 
 
164 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 tains, they will say, ‘ This is lor a Loup and this 
 for a Sioux.’ ” 
 
 “Teton — no ! Hard-Heart has never struck 
 the stranger. They come into his lodge and eat, 
 and they go out in safety. A mighty chief is 
 their friend! When my people call the young 
 men to go on the war-path, the moccasin of Hard- 
 Heart iS the last. But his village is no sooner 
 hid by the' trees, than it is the first. No, Teton ; 
 his arm will never be lifted against the stranger.” 
 
 “Fool; die, with empty hands!” Mahtoree 
 exclaimed, setting an arrow to his bow, and send- 
 ing it, with a sudden and deadly aim, full at the 
 naked bosom of his generous and confiding enemy. 
 
 The action of the treacherous Teton was too 
 quick and too well-matured to admit of any of 
 the ordinary means of defence on the part of the 
 Pawnee. HiS shield was hanging at his shoulder, 
 and even the arrow had been suffered to fall from 
 its place, and lay in the hollow of the hand which 
 grasped his bow. But the quick eye of the brave 
 had time to see the movement, and his ready 
 thoughts did not desert him. Pulling hard and 
 with a jerk upon the rein, his steed reared his for- 
 ward legs into the air, and, as the rider bent his 
 body low, the horse served for a shield against 
 the danger. So true, however, was the aim, and 
 so powerful the force by which it was sent, that 
 the arrow entered the neck of the animal, and 
 broke the skin on the opposite side. 
 
 Quicker than thought Hard-Heart sent back 
 an answering arrow. The shield of the Teton 
 was transfixed, but his person was untouched. 
 For a few moments the twang of the bow and the 
 glancing of arrows were incessant, notwithstand- 
 ing the combatants were compelled to give so 
 large a portion of their care to the means of de- 
 fence. The quivers were soon exhausted ; and, 
 though blood had been drawn, it was not in suffi- 
 cient quantities to impair the energy of the com- 
 bat. 
 
 A series of masterly and rapid evolutions with 
 the horses now commenced. The wheelings, the 
 charges, the advances, and the circuitous retreats, 
 were like the flights of circling swallows. Blows 
 were struck with the lance, the sand was scat- 
 tered in the air, and the shocks often seemed to 
 be unavoidably fatal ; but still each party kept 
 his seat, and still each rein was managed with a 
 steady hand. At length the Teton was driven to 
 the necessity of throwing himself from his horse, 
 to escape a thrust that would otherwise have 
 proved fatal. The Pawnee passed his lance 
 through the beast, uttering a shout of triumph as 
 he galloped by. Turning in his tracks, he was 
 about to push the advantage, when his own met- 
 
 tled steed staggered and fell, under a burden 
 that he could no longer sustain. Mahtoree an- 
 swered his premature cry of victory, and rushed 
 upon the entangled youth with knife and toma- 
 hawk. The utmost agility of Hard-Heart had not 
 sufficed to extricate himself in season from the 
 fallen beast. He saw that his case was desperate. 
 Feeling for his knife, he took the blade between 
 a finger and thumb, and cast it with admirable 
 coolness at his advancing foe. The keen weapon 
 whirled a few times in the air, and its point meet- 
 ing the naked breast of the impetuous Sioux, the 
 blade was buried to the buck-horn haft. 
 
 Mahtoree laid his hand on the weapon, and 
 seemed to hesitate whether to withdraw it or not. 
 For a moment his countenance darkened with 
 the most inextinguishable hatred and ferocity, and 
 then, as if inwardly admonished how little time he 
 had to lose, he staggered to the edge of the sands, 
 and halted with his feet in the water. The cunning 
 and duplicity which had so long obscured the 
 brighter and nobler traits of his character were 
 lost in the never-dying sentiment of pride, which 
 he had imbibed in youth. 
 
 “Boy of the Loups !” he said, with a smile 
 of grim satisfaction, “ the scalp of a mighty Dah- 
 cotah shall never dry in Pawnee smoke ! ” 
 
 Drawing the knife from the wound, he hurled 
 it toward the enemy in disdain. Then shaking 
 his arm at his successful foe, his swarthy counte- , 
 nance appearing to struggle with volumes of scorn 
 and hatred, that he could not utter with the 
 tongue, he cast himself headlong into one of the 
 most rapid veins of the current, his hand still 
 waving in triumph above the fluid, even after his 
 body had sunk into the tide for ever. Hard-Heart 
 was by this time free. The silence, which had 
 hitherto reigned in the bands, was suddenly broken 
 by general and tumultuous shouts. Fifty of the 
 adverse warriors were already in the river, hast- 
 ening to destroy or to defend the conqueror, and 
 the combat was rather on the eve of its commence- 
 ment than near its termination. But to all these 
 signs of danger and need, the young victor was 
 insensible. He sprang for the knife, and bounded 
 with the foot of an antelope along the sands, look- 
 ing for the receding fluid which concealed his 
 prize. A dark, bloody spot indicated the place, 
 and, armed with the knife, he plunged into the 
 stream, resolute to die in the flood, or to return 
 with his trophy. 
 
 In the mean time, the sands became a scene 
 of bloodshed and violence. Better mounted and 
 perhaps more ardent, the Pawnees had, however 
 reached the spot in sufficient numbers to force 
 their enemies to retire. The victors pushed their 
 
A DEADLY STRUGGLE. 
 
 105 
 
 success to the opposite shore, and gained the solid 
 ground in the melee of the fight. Here they were 
 met by all the unmounted Tetons, and, in their 
 turn, they were forced to give way. 
 
 The combat now became more characteristic 
 and circumspect. As the hot impulses which had 
 driven both parties to mingle in so deadly a strug- 
 gle, began to cool, the chiefs were enabled to ex- 
 ercise their influence, and to temper the assaults 
 with prudence. In consequence of the admoni- 
 tions of their leaders, the Sioux sought such 
 covers as the grass afforded, or here and there 
 some bush or slight inequality of the ground, 
 and the charges of the Pawnee warriors ne- 
 cessarily became more wary, and of course less 
 fatal. 
 
 In this manner the contest continued with a 
 varied success, and without much loss. The Sioux 
 had succeeded in forcing themselves into a thick 
 growth of rank grass, where the horses of their 
 enemies could not enter, or where, when entered, 
 they were worse than useless. It became neces- 
 sary to dislodge the Tetons from this cover, Or the 
 object of the combat must be abandoned. Several 
 desperate efforts had been repulsed, and the dis- 
 heartened Pawnees were beginning to think of a 
 retreat, when the well known war-cry of Hard- 
 Heart was heard at hand, and at the next instant 
 the chief appeared in their centre, flourishing the 
 scalp of the great Sioux, as a banner that would 
 lead to victory. 
 
 He was greeted by a shout of delight, and fol- 
 lowed into the cover with an impetuosity that, 
 for the moment, drove all before it. But the 
 bloody trophy in the hand of the partisan served 
 as an incentive to the attacked, as well as to the 
 assailants. Mahtoree had left many a daring 
 brave behind him in his band, and the orator who 
 in the debates of that day had manifested such 
 pacific thoughts, now exhibited the most generous 
 self-devotion, in order to wrest the memorial of a 
 man he had never loved, from the hands of the 
 avowed enemies of his people. 
 
 The result was in favor of numbers. After a 
 severe struggle, in which the finest displays of 
 personal intrepidity were exhibited by all the 
 chiefs, the Pawnees were compelled to retire upon 
 the open bottom, closely pressed by the Sioux, 
 who failed not to seize each foot of ground ceded 
 by their enemies. Had the Tetons stayed their 
 efforts on the margin of the grass, it is probable 
 that the honor of the day would have been theirs, 
 notwithstanding the irretrievable loss they had 
 sustained in the death of Mahtoree. But the 
 more reckless braves of the band were guilty of 
 an indiscretion that entirely changed the fortunes 
 
 of the fight, and suddenly stripped them of their 
 hard-earned advantages. 
 
 A Pawnee chief had sunk under the numer- 
 ous wounds he had received, and he fell, a target 
 for a dozen arrows, in the very last group of his 
 retiring party. Regardless alike of inflicting fur- 
 ther injury on their foes, and of the temerity of 
 the act, the Sioux braves bounded forward with 
 a whoop, each man burning with the wish to reap 
 the high renown of striking the body of the dead. 
 They were met by Hard-Heart and a chosen knot 
 of warriors, all of whom were just as stoutly bent 
 on saving the honor of their nation from so foul 
 a stain. The struggle was hand to hand, and 
 blood began to flow more freely. As the Paw- 
 nees retired with the body, the Sioux pressed 
 upon their footsteps, and at length the whole of 
 the latter broke out of the cOver with a common 
 yell, and threatened to bear down all opposition 
 by sheer physical superiority. 
 
 The fate of Hard-Heart and his companions, 
 all of whom would have died rather than relin- 
 quish their object, would have been quickly 
 sealed, but for a powerful and unlooked-for inter- 
 position in their favor. • A shout was heard from 
 a little brake on the left, and a volley from the 
 fatal Western rifle immediately succeeded. Some 
 five or six Sioux leaped forward in the death- 
 agony, and every arm among them was as sud- 
 denly suspended, as if the lightning had flashed 
 from the clouds to aid the cause of the Loupg. 
 Then came Ishmael and his stout sons in open 
 view, bearing down upon their late treacherous 
 allies, with looks and voices that proclaimed the 
 character of the succor. 
 
 The shock was too much for the fortitude of 
 the Tetons. Several of their bravest chiefs had 
 already fallen, and those that remained were in- 
 stantly abandoned by the whole of the inferior 
 herd. A few of the most desperate braves still 
 lingered nigh the fatal symbol of their honor, and 
 there nobly met their deaths, under the blows of 
 the reencouraged Pawnees. A second discharge 
 from the rifles of the squatter and his party com- 
 pleted the victory. 
 
 The Sioux were now to be seen flying to 
 more distant covers, with the same eagerness and 
 desperation as, a few moments before, they had 
 been plunging into the fight. The triumphant 
 Pawnees bounded forward in chase, like so many 
 high-blooded ‘and well-trained hounds. On every 
 side were heard the cries of victory, or the yell 
 of revenge. A few of the fugitives endeavored 
 to bear away the bodies of their fallen warriors, 
 but the hot pursuit quickly compelled them to 
 abandon the slain, in order to preserve the living. 
 
166 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 Among all the struggles which were made on that 
 Jccasion, to guard the honor of the Sioux from 
 the stain which their peculiar opinions attached 
 to the possession of the scalp of a fallen brave, 
 but one solitary instance of success occurred. 
 
 The opposition of a particular chief to the 
 hostile proceedings in the councils of that morn- 
 ing has been already seen. But, after having 
 raised his voice in vain in support of peace, his 
 arm was not backward in doing its duty in the 
 war. His prowess has been mentioned ; and it 
 was chiefly by his courage and example that the 
 Tetons sustained themselves in the heroic manner 
 they did, when the death of Mahtoree was 
 known. This warrior, who, in the figurative lan- 
 guage of his people, was called “ the Swooping 
 Eagle,” had been the last to abandon the hopes 
 of victory. When he found that the support of 
 the dreaded rifle had robbed his band of the 
 hard-earned advantages, he sullenly retired, amid 
 a shower of missiles, to the secret spot where he 
 had hid his horse, in the mazes of the highest 
 grass. Here he found a new and an entirely un- 
 expected competitor, ready to dispute with him 
 for the possession of the beast. It was Bohre- 
 cheena, the aged friend of Mahtoree; he whose 
 voice had been given in opposition to his own 
 wise : opinions, transfixed with an arrow, and evi- 
 dent.y suffering under the pangs of approaching 
 death. 
 
 “ I have been on my last war-path,” said the 
 grim old warrior, when he found that the real 
 owner of the animal had come to claim his 
 property; “shall a Pawnee carry the white hairs 
 of a Sioux into his village, to be a scorn to his 
 women and children ? ” 
 
 The other grasped his hand, answering to the 
 appeal with a stern look of inflexible resolution. 
 With this silent pledge, he assisted the wounded 
 man to mount. So soon as he had led the horse 
 to the margin of the cover, he threw himself also 
 on its back, and, securing his companion to his 
 belt, he issued on the open plain, trusting entirely 
 to the well-known speed of the beast for their 
 mutual safety. The Pawnees were not long in 
 catching a view of these new objects, and several 
 turned their steeds to pursue. The race con- 
 tinued for a mile without a murmur from the suf- 
 ferer, though, in addition to the agony of his 
 body, he had the pain of seeing his enemies ap- 
 proach at every leap of their horses. 
 
 “Stop,” he said, raising a feeble arm to check 
 the speed of his companion ; “ the Eagle of my 
 tribe must spread his wings wider. Let him 
 carry the white hairs of an old warrior into the 
 burnt-wood village ! ” 
 
 Few words were necessary between men who 
 were governed by the same feelings of ; glory, and 
 who were so well trained in the principles of their 
 romantic honor. The Swooping Eagle threw him- 
 self from the back of the horse, and assisted the 
 other to alight. The old man raised his tottering 
 frame to its knees, and first casting a glance up- 
 ward at the countenance of his countryman, as if 
 to bid him adieu, he stretched out his neck to the 
 blow he himself invited. A few strokes of the 
 tomahawk, with a circling gash of the knife, suf- 
 ficed to sever the head from the less-valued trunk. 
 The Teton mounted again, just in season to es- 
 cape a flight of arrows which came from his eager 
 and disappointed pursuers. Flourishing the grim 
 and bloody visage, he darted away from the spot 
 with a shout of triumph, and was seen scouring 
 the plains, as if he were actually borne along on 
 the wings of the powerful bird from whose quali- 
 ties he had received his flattering name. The 
 Swooping Eagle reached his village in safety. 
 He was one of the few Sioux who escaped from 
 the massacre of that fatal day ; and for a long 
 time he alone of the saved was able to lift his 
 voice in the councils of his nation, with undi- 
 minished confidence. 
 
 The knife and the lance cut short the retreat 
 of the larger portion of the vanquished. Even 
 the retiring party of the women and children were 
 scattered by the conquerors; and the sun had 
 long sunk behind the rolling outline of the west- 
 ern horizon, before the fell business of that dis- 
 astrous defeat was entirely ended. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 “ Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew? ” 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The day dawned, the following morning, on a 
 more tranquil scene. The work of blood had en- 
 tirely ceased ; and, as the sun arose, its light was 
 shed ou a broad expanse of quiet and solitude. 
 The tents of Ishmael were still standing where 
 they had been last seen, but not another vestige 
 of human existence could be traced in any other 
 part of the waste. Here and there little flocks 
 of ravenous birds were sailing and screaming 
 above those spots where some heavy-footed Teton 
 had met his death, but every other sign of the re- 
 cent combat had passed away. The river was to 
 be traced far through the endless meadows, by its 
 serpentine and smoking bed ; and the little silvery 
 clouds of vapor, which hung above the pools and 
 springs, were beginning to melt in air, as they 
 
ISHMAEL BUSH’S COURT. 
 
 167 
 
 felt the quickening warmth, which, pouring from 
 the glowing sky, shed its bland and subtle influ- 
 ence on every object of the vast and unshadowed 
 region. The prairie was like the heavens after 
 the passage of the gust — soft, calm, and soothing. 
 
 It was in the midst of such a scene that the 
 family of the squatter assembled to make their 
 final decision concerning the several individuals 
 who had been thrown into their power by the 
 fluctuating chances of the incidents related. Ev- 
 ery being possessing life and liberty had been 
 afoot, since the first streak of gray had lighted 
 the east ; and even the youngest of the erratic 
 brood seemed conscious that the moment had ar- 
 rived when circumstances were about to occur 
 that might leave a lasting impression on the wild 
 fortunes of their semi-barbarous condition. 
 
 Ishmael moved through his little encampment, 
 with the seriousness of one who had been unex- 
 pectedly charged wuth matters of a gravity ex- 
 ceeding any of the ordinary occurrences of his 
 irregular existence. His sons, however, who had 
 so often found occasions to prove the inexorable 
 severity of their father’s character, saw, in his 
 sullen mien and cold eye, rather a determination 
 to adhere to his resolutions, which usually were 
 as obstinately enforced as they were harshly con- 
 ceived, than any evidences of wavering or doubt. 
 Even Esther was sensibly affected by the impor- 
 tant matters that pressed so heavily on the inter- 
 ests of her family. While she neglected none of 
 those domestic offices which would probably 
 nave proceeded under any conceivable circum- 
 stances, just as the world turns round with earth- 
 quakes rending its crust and volcanoes consuming 
 its vitals, yet her voice was pitched to a low’er 
 and more foreboding key than common, and the 
 6till frequent chidings of her children were tem- 
 pered by something like the milder dignity of pa- 
 rental authority. 
 
 Abiram, as usual, seemed the one most given 
 to solicitude and doubt. There were certain mis- 
 givings, in the frequent glances that he turned on 
 the unyielding countenance of Ishmael, which 
 might have betrayed how little of their former 
 confidence and good understanding existed be- 
 tween them. His looks appeared to be vacillating 
 between hope and fear. At times, his countenance 
 lighted with the gleamings of a sordid joy, as he 
 bent his look on the tent which contained his re- 
 covered prisoner, and then, again, the impression 
 seemed unaccountably chased away by the shad- 
 ows of intense apprehension. When under the 
 influence of the latter feeling, his eve never failed 
 to seek the visage of his dull and impenetrable 
 kinsman. But there he rather found reason for 
 
 alarm than grounds of encouragement, for the 
 whole character of the squatter’s countenance 
 expressed the fearful truth that he had redeemed 
 his dull faculties from the influence of the kidnap- 
 per, and that his thoughts were now brooding only 
 on the achievement of his own stubborn intentions. 
 
 It was in this state of things that the sons of 
 Ishmael, in obedience to an order from their fa- 
 ther, conducted the several subjects of his contem- 
 plated decisions from their places of confinement 
 into the open air. No one was exempted from 
 this arrangement. Middleton and Inez, Paul and 
 Ellen, Obed and the trapper, were all brought 
 forth and placed in situations that were deemed 
 suitable to receive the sentence of their arbitrary 
 judge. The younger children gathered around 
 the spot in momentary but engrossing curiosity, 
 and even Esther quitted her culinary labors and 
 drew nigh to listen. 
 
 Hard-Heart alone, of all his band, was present 
 to witness the novel and far from unimposing 
 spectacle. He stood leaning gravely on his lance, 
 while the smoking steed that grazed nigh showed 
 that he had ridden far and hard to be a spectator 
 on the occasion. 
 
 Ishmael had received his new ally with a 
 coldness that showed his entire insensibility, to 
 that delicacy which had induced the young chief 
 to come alone, in order that the presence of his 
 warriors might not create uneasiness or distrust. 
 He neither courted their assistance nor dreaded 
 their enmity, and he now proceeded to the busi- 
 ness of the hour w r ith as much composure as if 
 the species of patriarchal power he wielded was 
 universally recognized. 
 
 There is something elevated in the possession 
 of authority, however it may be abused. The 
 mind is apt to make some efforts to prove the fit- 
 ness between its qualities and the condition of its 
 owner, though it may often fail, and render that 
 ridiculous which was only hated before. But the 
 effect on Ishmael Bush was not so disheartening. 
 Grave in exterior, saturnine by temperament, 
 formidable by his physical means, and dangerous 
 from his lawless obstinacy, his self- constituted 
 tribunal excited a degree of awe to which even 
 the intelligent Middleton could not bring himself 
 to be entirely insensible. Little time, however, 
 was given to arrange his thoughts ; for the squat- 
 ter, though unaccustomed to haste, having pre- 
 viously made up his mind, was not disposed to 
 waste the moments in delay. When he saw that 
 all werfe in their places, he cast a dull look over 
 his prisoners, and addressed himself to the cap- 
 tain, as the principal man among the imaginary 
 delinquents. 
 
168 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 “ I am called upon this day to fill the office 
 liich m the settlements you give unto judges, 
 who are set apart to decide on matters that arise 
 between man and man. I have but little knowl- 
 edge of the ways of the courts, though there is a 
 rule that is known unto all, and which teaches 
 that ‘ an eye must be returned for an eve,’ and ‘ a 
 tooth for a tooth.’ I am no troubler of county- 
 houses, and least of all do I like living on a plan- 
 tation that the sheriff has surveyed ; yet there is 
 a reason in such a law that makes it a safe rule 
 to journey by, and therefore it ar’ a solemn fact 
 that this day shall I abide by it, and give unto 
 all and each that which is his due and no 
 more.” 
 
 When Ishmael had delivered his mind thus 
 far, he paused and looked about him as if he 
 would trace the effects in the countenances of his 
 hearers. When his eye met that of Middleton he 
 was answered by the latter : 
 
 “ If the evil-doer is to be punished, and he 
 that has offended none to be left to go at large, 
 you must change situations with me, and become 
 a prisoner instead of a judge.” 
 
 “ You mean to say that I have done you 
 wrong in taking the lady from her father’s house, 
 and leading her so far against her will into these 
 wild districts,” returned the unmoved squatter, 
 who manifested as little resentment as he be- 
 trayed compunction at the charge. “ I shall not 
 put the lie on the back of an evil deed and deny 
 your words. Since things have come to this pass 
 between us I have found time to think the matter 
 over at my leisure, and though none of your swift 
 thinkers, who can see, or who pretend to see, into 
 the nature of all things by a turn of the eye, yet 
 am I a man open to reason, and, give me my time, 
 one who is not given to deny the truth. There- 
 fore have I mainly concluded that it was a mis- 
 take to take a child from its parent, and the lady 
 shall be returned whence she has been brought, 
 as tenderly and as safely as man can do it.” 
 
 “ Ay, ay,” added Esther, “ the man is right. 
 Poverty and labor bore hard upon him, especially 
 as county-officers were getting troublesome, and 
 in a weak moment he did the wicked act ; but he 
 has listened to my words, and his mind has got 
 round again into its honest comer. An awful and 
 a dangerous thing it is to be bringing the 
 daughters of other people into a peaceable and 
 well-governed family ! ” 
 
 “ And who will thank you for the same after 
 what has been already done ? ” muttered Abiram, 
 with a grin of disappointed cupidity, in which 
 malignity and terror were disgustingly united; 
 “ when the devil has once made out his account, 
 
 you may look for your receipt in full only at his 
 hands.” 
 
 “ Peace ! ” said Ishmael, stretching his heavy 
 hand toward his kinsman in a manner that in- 
 stantly silenced the speaker. “ Your voice is 
 like a raven’s in my ears. If you had never 
 spoken, I should have been spared this shame.” 
 
 “ Since, then, you are beginning to lose sight of 
 your errors and to see the truth,” said Middleton, 
 “ do not things by halves, but by the generosity 
 of your conduct purchase friends who may be of 
 use in warding off any future danger from the 
 law — ” 
 
 “ Young man,” interrupted the squatter, with 
 a dark frown, “ you , too, have said enough. If 
 fear of the law had come over me, you would not 
 be here to witness the manner in which Ishmael 
 Bush deals out justice.” 
 
 “ Smother not your good intentions ; and re- 
 member, if you contemplate violence to any among 
 us, that the arm of that law you affect to despise 
 reaches far, and that, though its movements are 
 sometimes slow, they are not the less certain!” 
 
 “Yes, there is too much truth in his words, 
 squatter,” said the trapper, w r hose attentive ears 
 rarely suffered a syllable to be utterly unheeded 
 in his presence. “A busy and a troublesome 
 arm it often proves to be here in this land of 
 America ; where, as they say, man is left greatly 
 to the following of his own wishes, compared to 
 other countries; and happier, ay, and more manly 
 and more honest too, is he for the privilege ! — 
 Why, do you know, my men, that there are re- 
 gions where the law is so busy as to say, ‘ In this 
 fashion shall you live, in that fashion shall you 
 die, and in such another fashion shall you take 
 leave of the world, to be sent before the judg- 
 ment-seat of the Lord ! ’ A wicked and a trouble- 
 some meddling is that, with the business of One 
 who has not made his creatures to be herded like 
 oxen, and driven from field to field as their stupid 
 and selfish keepers may judge of their need and 
 wants. A miserable land must that be where 
 they fetter the mind as well as the body, and 
 where the creatures of God, being bom children, 
 are kept so by the wicked inventions of men who 
 would take upon themselves the office of the 
 great Governor of all ! ” 
 
 During the delivery of this pertinent opinion, 
 Ishmael was content to be silent, though the look 
 with which he regarded the speaker manifested 
 any other feeling than that of amity. When the 
 old man had done, he turned to Middleton, and 
 continued the subject which the other had inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 “As to ourselves, young captain, there has 
 
LIBERATION OF MIDDLETON, INEZ, AND DR. BATT. 
 
 169 
 
 been wrong on both sides. If I have borne hard 
 upon your feelings in taking away your wife with 
 an honest intention of giving her back to you 
 when the plans of that devil incarnate were an- 
 swered, so have you broken into my encampment, 
 aiding and abetting, as they have called many an 
 honester bargain, in destroying my property.” 
 
 “ But what I did was to liberate — ” 
 
 “ The matter is settled between us,” inter- 
 rupted Ishmael, with the air of one who, having 
 made up his own opinion on the merits of the 
 question, cared very little for those of other peo- 
 ple ; “ you and your wife are free to go and come 
 when and how you please. — Abner, set the cap- 
 tain at liberty ; and now, if you will tarry until I 
 am ready to draw nigher to the settlements, you 
 shall both have the benefit of carriage ; if not, 
 never say that you did not get a friendly offer.” 
 
 “ Now, may the strong oppress me, and my 
 sins be visited harshly on my own head, if I for- 
 get your honesty, however slow it has been in 
 showing itself! ” cried Middleton, hastening to the 
 side of the weeping Inez the instant he was re- 
 leased ; “ and, friend, I pledge you the honor of 
 a soldier that your own part of this transaction 
 shall be forgotten, whatever I may deem fit to 
 have done when I reach a place where the arm 
 of government can make itself felt.” 
 
 The dull smile with which the squatter an- 
 swered to this assurance proved how little he 
 valued the pledge that the youth, in the first re- 
 vulsion of his feelings, was so free to make. 
 
 “Neither fear nor favor, but what I call jus- 
 tice, has brought me to this judgment,” he said ; 
 “ do you that which may seem right in your eyes, 
 and believe that the world is wide enough to hold 
 us both, without our crossing each other’s path 
 again! If you ar’ content, well; if you ar’ not 
 content, seek to ease your feelings in your own 
 fashion. I shall not ask to be let up, when you 
 once put me fairly down. — And now, doctor, 
 have I come to your leaf in my accounts. It is 
 time to foot up the small reckoning that has been 
 running on for some time atwixt us. With you, 
 I entered into open and manly faith; in what 
 manner have you kept it ? ” 
 
 The singular felicity with which Ishmael had 
 contrived to shift the responsibility of all that 
 had passed from his own shoulders to those of 
 his prisoners, backed as it was by circumstances 
 that hardly admitted of a very philosophical ex- 
 amination of any mooted point in ethics, was suf- 
 ficiently embarrassing to the several individuals 
 who were so unexpectedly required to answer for 
 a conduct which, in their simplicity, they had 
 deemed so meritoi'ious. The life of Obed had 
 63 
 
 been so purely theoretic, that his amazement was 
 not the least embarrassing at a state of things 
 which might not have proved so very remarkable, 
 had he been a little more practised in the ways 
 of the world. The worthy naturalist was not the 
 first, by many, who found himself, at the precise 
 moment when he was expecting praise, suddenly 
 arraigned, to answer for the very conduct on 
 which he rested all his claims to commendation. 
 Though not a little scandalized at the unexpected 
 turn of the transaction, he was fain to make the 
 best of circumstances, and to bring forth such 
 matter in justification as first presented itself to 
 his disordered faculties. 
 
 “ That there did exist a certain compactum, 
 or agreement, between Obed Batt, M. D., and 
 Ishmael Bush, viator, or erratic husbandman,” 
 he said, endeavoring to avoid all offence in the 
 use of terms, “ I am not disposed to deny. I will 
 admit that it was therein conditioned, or stipu- 
 lated, that a certain journey should be performed 
 conjointly, or in company, until so many days 
 had been numbered. But, as the said time was 
 fully expired, I presume it fair to infer that the 
 bargain may now be said to be obsolete.” 
 
 “ Ishmael ! ” interrupted the impatient Esther, 
 “ make no words with a man who can break your 
 bones as easily as set them, and let the poisoning 
 devil go ! He’s a cheat, from box to phial. Give 
 him half the prairie, and take the other half 
 yourself. He an acclimator! I will engage to 
 get the brats acclimated to a fever-and-ague bot- 
 tom in a week, and not a word shall be uttered 
 harder to pronounce than the bark of a cherry- 
 tree, with perhaps a drop or two of Western com- 
 fort. One thing ar’ a fact, Ishmael: I like no 
 fellow-travellers who can give a heavy feel to an 
 honest woman’s tongue, I — and that without 
 caring whether her household is in order or out 
 of order.” 
 
 The air of settled gloom which had taken 
 possession of the squatter’s countenance lighted 
 for an instant with a look of dull drollery, as he 
 answered : 
 
 “Different people might judge differently, 
 Esther, of the virtue of the man’s art. But sin’ 
 it is your wish to let him depart, I will not plough 
 the prairie to make the walking rough. — Friend, 
 you are at liberty to go into the settlements, and 
 there I would advise you to tarry, as men like me, 
 who make but few contracts, do not relish the 
 custom of breaking them so easily.” 
 
 “ And now, Ishmael,” resumed his conquering 
 wife, “in order to keep a quiet family and to 
 smother all heart-burnings between us, show 
 yonder red-skin and his daughter,” pointing to 
 
THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 1 70 
 
 the aged Le Balafre and the widowed Tachechana, 
 “ the way to their village, and let us say to them, 
 ‘ God bless you, and farewell,’ in the same breath ! ” 
 
 “ They are captives of the Pawnee, according 
 to the rules of Indian warfare, and I cannot 
 meddle with his rights.” 
 
 “ Beware the devil, my man ! He’s a cheat 
 and a tempter, and none can say they ar’ safe 
 with his awful delusions before their eyes ! Take 
 the advice of one who has the honor of your 
 name at heart, and send the tawny Jezebel 
 away.” 
 
 The squatter laid his broad hand on her 
 shoulder, and, looking her steadily in the eye, he 
 answered in tones that were both stern and 
 solemn: 
 
 “ Woman, we have that before us which calls 
 our thoughts to other matters than the follies you 
 mean. Remember what is to come, and put your 
 silly jealousy to sleep.” 
 
 “ It is true, it is true,” murmured his wife, 
 moving back among her daughters ; “ God for- 
 give me that I should forget it ! ” 
 
 “ And now, young man — you who have so 
 often come into my clearing under the pretence 
 of lining the bee into his hole,” resumed Ishmael, 
 after a momentary pause, as if to recover the 
 equilibrium of his mind — “ with you there is a 
 heavier account to settle. Not satisfied with 
 rummaging my camp, you have stolen a girl who 
 is akin to my wife, and whom I had calculated to 
 make one day a daughter of my own.” 
 
 A stronger sensation was produced by this 
 than by any of the preceding interrogations. 
 All the young men bent their curious eyes on 
 Paul and Ellen, the former of whom seemed in 
 no small mental confusion, while the latter bent 
 her face on her bosom in shame. 
 
 “ Harkee, friend Ishmael Bush,” returned the 
 bee-hunter, who found that he was expected to 
 answer to the charge of burglary as well as to 
 that of abduction ; “ that I did not give the most 
 civil treatment to your pots and pails I am not 
 going to gainsay. If you will name the price you 
 put upon the articles, it is possible the damage 
 may be quietly settled between us and all hard 
 feelings forgotten. I was not in a church-going 
 humor when we got upon your rock, and it is 
 more than probable there was quite as much 
 kicking as preaching among your wares ; but a 
 hole in the best man’s coat can be mended bv 
 money. As to the matter of Ellen Wade, here, 
 it may not be got over so easily. Different 
 people have different opinions on the subject of 
 matrimony. Some think it is enough to say yes 
 and no to the questions of the magistrate or of 
 
 the parson, if one happens to be handy, in ordei 
 to make a quiet house; but I think that, where a 
 young woman’s mind is fairly bent on going in a 
 certain direction, it will be quite as prudent to 
 let her body follow. Not that I mean to say 
 Ellen was not altogether forced to what she did, 
 and therefore she is just as innocent in this mat- 
 ter as yonder jackass, who was made to carry 
 her, and greatly against his will, too, as I am 
 ready to swear he would say himself if he could 
 speak as loud as he can bray.” 
 
 “ Nelly,” resumed the squatter, who paid very 
 little attention to what Paul considered a highly- 
 creditable and ingenious vindication, “Nelly, this 
 is a wide and a wicked world on which you have 
 been in such a hurry to cast yourself. You have 
 fed and you have slept in my camp for a year, 
 and I did hope that you had found the free air 
 of the borders enough to your mind to wish to 
 remain among us.” 
 
 “ Let the girl have her will,” muttered Esther, 
 from the rear ; “ he who might have persuaded 
 her to stay is sleeping in the cold and naked 
 prairie, and little hope is left of changing her 
 humor; besides, a woman’s mind is a wilful thing 
 and not easily turned from its waywardness, as 
 you know yourself, my man, or I should not b6 
 here the mother of your sons and daughters.” 
 
 The squatter seemed reluctant to abandon his 
 views on the abashed girl so easily; and, before 
 he answered to the suggestion of his wife, he 
 turned his usual dull look along the line of the 
 curious countenances of his boys, as if to see 
 whether there was not one among them fit to fill 
 the place of the deceased. Paul was not slow to 
 observe the expression, and, hitting nigher than 
 usual on the secret thoughts of the other, he be- 
 lieved he had fallen on an expedient which might 
 remove every difficulty. 
 
 “ It is quite plain, friend Bush,” he said, “that 
 there are two opinions in this matter ; yours for 
 your sons, and mine for myself. I see but one 
 amicable way of settling this dispute, which is as 
 follows : do you make a choice among your boys 
 of any you will, and let us walk off together for 
 the matter of a few miles into the prairies ; the 
 one who stays behind can never trouble any 
 man’s house or his fixin’, and the one who comes 
 back may make the best of his way he can, in 
 the good wishes of the young woman.” 
 
 “ Paul,” exclaimed the reproachful but smoth- 
 ered voice of Ellen. 
 
 “ Never fear, Nelly,” whispered the literal bee- 
 hunter, whose straight-going mind suggested no 
 other motive of uneasiness on the part of his mis- 
 tress than concern for himself; “ I have taken the 
 
ELLEN WADE’S CHOICE. 
 
 171 
 
 measure of them all, and you may trust an 
 eye that has seen to line many a bee into his 
 hole ! 
 
 “ I am not about to set myself up as a ruler 
 of inclinations,” observed the squatter. “If the 
 heart of the child is truly in the settlements, let 
 her declare it ; she shall have no let or hinderance 
 from me. — Speak Nelly, and let what you say come 
 from your wishes, without fear or favor. Would 
 you leave hs to go with this young man into the 
 settled countries, or will you tarry and share the 
 little we have to give, but which to you we give so 
 freely ? ” 
 
 Thus called upon to decide, Ellen could no 
 longer hesitate. The glance of her eve was at first 
 timid and furtive. But, as the colot flushed her 
 features, and her breathing became quick and ex- 
 cited, it was apparent that the native spirit of the 
 girl was gaining the ascendency over the bashful- 
 ness of sex. 
 
 “You took me a fatherless, impoverished, and 
 friendless orphan,” she said, struggling to com- 
 mand her voice, “ when others, who live in what 
 may be called affluence compared to your state, 
 chose to forget me ; and may Heaven in its good- 
 ness bless you for it ! The little I have done, will 
 never pay you for that one act of kindness. I 
 like not your manner of life ; it is different from 
 the ways of my childhood, and it is different from 
 my wishes ; still, had you not led this sweet and 
 unoffending lady from her friends, I should never 
 have quitted you until you yourself had said, ‘ Go, 
 and the blessing of God go with you !’” 
 
 “ The act was not wise, but it is repented of ; 
 and, so far as it can be done in safety, it shall be 
 repaired. Now, speak freely, will you tarry, or will 
 you go ? ” 
 
 “ I have promised the lady,” said Ellen, drop- 
 ping her eyes again to the earth, “ not to leave 
 her ; and, after she has received so much wrong 
 ' from all hands, she may have a right to claim that 
 I keep my word.” 
 
 “ Take the cords from the young man,” said 
 Ishmael. When the order was obeyed, he motioned 
 for all his sons to advance, and he placed them in 
 a row before the eyes of Ellen. “ Now let there be 
 no trifling, but open your heart. Here ar’ all I 
 have to offer, besides a hearty welcome.” 
 
 The distressed girl turned her abashed look 
 from the countenance of one of the young men to 
 that of another, until her eyes met the troubled 
 and working features of Paul. Then Nature got 
 the better of forms. She threw herself into the 
 arms of the bee-hunter, and sufficiently proclaimed 
 her choice by sobbing aloud. Ishmael signed 
 to his sons to fall back, and. evidently mortified, 
 
 though perhaps not disappointed by the result, ha 
 no longer hesitated. 
 
 “ Take her,” he said, “ and deal honestly and 
 kindly by her. The girl has that in her which 
 should make her welcome in any man’s house, and 
 I should be loath to learn that she ever came to 
 harm. — And now I have settled with you all, on 
 terms that I hope you will not find hard, but, on 
 the contrary, just and manly. I have only another 
 question to ask, and that is of the captain. — Do 
 you choose to profit by my teams in going into the 
 settlements, or not ? ” 
 
 “ I hear that some soldiers of my party are 
 looking for me near the villages of the Pawnees,” 
 said Middleton, “ and I intend to accompany this 
 chief, in order to join my men.” 
 
 “ Then the sooner we part the better. Horses 
 are plenty on the bottom. Go ; make your choice, 
 and leave us in peace.” 
 
 “ That is impossible, while the old man, who 
 has been a friend of my family near half a century, 
 is left a prisoner. What has he done that he too 
 is not released ? ” 
 
 “ Ask no questions that may lead to deceitful 
 answers,” sullenly returned the squatter ; “ I have 
 dealings of my own with that trapper, that it may 
 not befit an officer of the States to meddle with. 
 Go, while your road is open.” 
 
 “ The man may be giving you honest counsel, 
 and that which it concerns you all to hearken to,” 
 observed the old captive, who seemed in no un- 
 easiness at the extraordinary condition in which he 
 found himself. “ The Siouxes are a numberless and 
 bloody-minded race, and no one can say how long 
 it may be afore they will be out again on the scent 
 of revenge. Therefore, I say to you, go, also ; 
 and take especial heed, in crossing the bottoms, 
 that you get not entangled again in the fires, for 
 the honest hunters often burn the grass at this 
 season, in order that the buffaloes may find a 
 sweeter and a greener pasturage in the spring.” 
 
 “ I should forget not only my gratitude, but 
 my duty to the laws, were I to leave this prison- 
 er in vour hands, even by his own consent, with- 
 out knowing the nature of his crime, in which we 
 may have all been his innocent accessaries.” 
 
 “Will it satisfy you to know that he merits 
 all he will receive ? ” 
 
 “ It will at least change my opinion of his 
 character.” 
 
 “ Look, then, at this,” said Ishmael, placing 
 before the eyes of the captain the bullet that had 
 been found about the person of the dead Asa ; 
 “with this morsel of lead did he lay low as fine a 
 boy as ever gave joy to a parent’s eyes ! ” 
 
 “ I cannot believe that he has done this deed* 
 
172 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 unless in self-defence, or on some justifiable prov- 
 ocation. That he knew of the death of your son, 
 I confess, for he pointed out the brake in which 
 the body lay, but that he ha3 wrongfully taken 
 his life, nothing but his own acknowledgment 
 shall persuade me to believe.” 
 
 “ I have lived long,” commenced the trapper, 
 who found by the general pause that he was ex- 
 pected to vindicate himself from the heavy impu- 
 tation, “ and much evil have I seen in my day. 
 Many are the prowling bears and leaping panthers 
 that I have met, fighting for the morsel which has 
 been thrown in their way; and many are the 
 reasoning men that I have looked on striving 
 against each other unto death, in order that hu- 
 man madness might also have its hour. For 
 myself, I hope there is no boasting in saying 
 that, though my hand has been needed in putting 
 down wickedness and oppression, it has never 
 struck a blow of which its owner will be ashamed 
 to hear, at a reckoning that shall be far mightier 
 than this.” 
 
 “ If my father has taken life from one of his 
 tribe,” said the young Pawnee, whose quick eye 
 had read the meaning of what was passing, in the 
 bullet and in the countenances of the others, “ let 
 him give himself up to the friends of the dead, 
 like a warrior. He is too just to need thongs to 
 lead him to judgment.” 
 
 “ Boy, I hope you do me justice. If I had done 
 the foul deed with which they charge me, I should 
 have manhood enough to come and offer my head 
 to the blow of punishment, as all good and honest 
 red-men do the same.” Then giving his anxious 
 Indian friend a look, to reassure him of his inno- 
 cence, he turned to the rest of his attentive and 
 interested listeners, as he continued in English, 
 “ I have a short story to tell, and he that believes 
 it will believe the truth, and he that disbelieves it 
 will only lead himself astray, and perhaps his 
 neighbor too. — We were all out-lying about your 
 camp, friend squatter, as by this time you may 
 begin to suspect, when we found that it contained 
 a wronged and imprisoned lady, with intentions 
 neither more honest nor dishonest than to set her 
 free, as in nature and justice she had a right to 
 be. Seeing that I was more skilled in scouting 
 than the others, while they lay back in the cover, 
 I was sent upon the plain, on the business of the 
 reconnoitrings. You little thought that one was 
 so nigh, who saw into all the circumventions of 
 your hunt ; but there was I, sometimes flat be- 
 hind a bush or a tuft of grass, sometimes rolling 
 down a hill into a bottom, and little did you 
 dream that your motions were watched as the 
 panther watches the drinking deer. Lord squat- 
 
 ter, when I was a man in the pride and strength 
 of my days, I have looked in at the tent-door of 
 the enemy, and they sleeping, ay, and dreaming, 
 too, of being at home and in peace. I wish 
 there was time to give you the partic — ” 
 
 “Proceed with your explanation, 1 interrupted 
 Middleton. 
 
 “ Ah ! and a bloody and wicked sight it was ! 
 There I lay in a low bed of grass, as two of the 
 hunters came nigh each other. Their meet- 
 ing was not cordial, nor such as men who meet 
 in a desert should give each other ; but I thought 
 they would have parted in peace, until I saw one 
 put his rifle to the other’s back, and do what I 
 call a treacherous and sinful murder. It was a 
 noble and a manly youth, that boy ! Though the 
 powder burnt his coat, he stood the shock for 
 more than a minute before he fell. Then was 
 he brought to his knees, and a desperate and 
 manful fight he made to the brake, like a 
 wounded bear seeking a cover ! ” 
 
 “ And why, in the name of heavenly justice, 
 did you conceal this ? ” cried Middleton. 
 
 “What! think you, captain, that a man who 
 has spent more than threescore years in the wil- 
 derness has not learned the virtue of discretion ? 
 What red warrior runs to tell the sights he has 
 seen, until a fitting time ? I took the doctor to 
 the place, in order to see whether his skill might 
 not come in use : and our friend, the bee-hunter, 
 being in company, was knowing to the fact that 
 the bushes held the body.” 
 
 “ Ay , it ar’ true,” said Paul ; “ but not know- 
 ing what private reasons might make the old 
 trapper wish to hush the matter up, I said as lit- 
 tle about the thing as possible ; which was just 
 nothing at all.” 
 
 “ And who was the perpetrator of this deed ? ” 
 demanded Middleton. 
 
 “ If by perpetrator you mean him who did the 
 act, yonder stands the man ; and a shame and a 
 disgrace is it to our race, that he is of the 
 blood and family Qf the dead.” 
 
 “ He lies ! he lies ! ” shrieked Abiram. “ I did 
 no murder ; I gave but blow for blow.” 
 
 The voice of Ishmael was deep, and even aw- 
 ful, as he answered : 
 
 “ It is enough. Let the old man go. — Boys, 
 put the brother of your mother in his place.” 
 
 “ Touch me not ! ” cried Abiram. “ I’ll call 
 on God to curse ye if you touch me!" 
 
 The wild and disordered gleam of his eye at 
 first induced the young men to arrest their steps ; 
 but when Abner, older and more resolute than 
 the rest, advanced full upon him, with a counte- 
 nance that bespoke the hostile state of his mind. 
 
ASA’S MURDERER. 
 
 173 
 
 the affrighted criminal turned, and, making an 
 abortive effort to fly, fell with his face to the earth, 
 to all appearance perfectly dead. Amid the low 
 exclamations of horror which succeeded, Ishmael 
 made a gesture which commanded his sons to bear 
 the body into a tent. 
 
 “Now,” he said, turning to those who were 
 strangers in his camp, “ nothing is left to be done 
 but for each to go his own road. I wish you all 
 well — and to you, Ellen, though you may not 
 prize the gift, I say, God bless you ! ” 
 
 Middleton, awe-struck by what he believed a 
 manifest judgment of Heaven, made no further re- 
 sistance, but prepared to depart. The arrange- 
 ments were brief, and soon completed. When 
 they were all ready, they took a short and silent 
 leave of the squatter and his family ; and then the 
 whole of the singularly constituted party were 
 seen slowly and silently following the victorious 
 Pawnee toward his distant villages. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 “And I beseech you, 
 
 Wrest once the law, to your authority : 
 
 To do a great right, do a little wrong.” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Isiimael awaited long and patiently for the 
 motley train of Hard-Heart to disappear. When 
 his scout reported that the last straggler of the 
 Indians, who had joined their chief so soon as he 
 was at such a distance from the encampment as 
 to excite no jealousy by their numbers, had gone 
 behind the most distant swell of the prairie, he 
 gave forth the order tc strike his tents. The 
 cattle were already in the gears, and the mov- 
 ables were soon transferred to their usual places 
 in the different vehicles. When all these arrange- 
 ments were completed, the little wagon, which 
 had so long been the tenement of Inez, was drawn 
 before the tent into which the insensible body 
 of the kidnapper had been borne, and prepara- 
 tions were evidently made for the reception of 
 another prisoner. Then it was, as Abiram ap- 
 peared, pale, terrified, and tottering beneath a 
 load of detected guilt, that the younger members 
 of the family were first apprised that he still be- 
 longed to the class of the living. A general and 
 superstitious impression had spread among them 
 that his crime had been visited by a terrible retri- 
 bution from Heaven; and they now gazed at him, 
 as at a being who belonged rather to another 
 world, than as a mortal, who, like themselves, 
 had still to endure the last agony before the 
 great link of human existence could be broken. 
 
 The criminal himself appeared to be in a state in 
 which the most sensitive and startling terror was 
 singularly combined with total physical apathy. 
 The truth was that, while his person had been 
 numbed by the shock, his susceptibility to appre- 
 hension kept his agitated mind in unrelieved dis- 
 tress. When he found himself in the open air, 
 he looked about him in order to gather, if pos- 
 sible, some evidences of his future fate, from the 
 countenances of those gathered round. Seeing 
 everywhere grave but composed features, and 
 meeting in no eye any expression that threatened 
 immediate violence, the miserable man began to 
 revive ; and, by the time he was seated in the 
 wagon, his artful faculties were beginning to plot 
 the expedients of parrying the just resentment 
 of his kinsmen, or, if these should fail him, the 
 means of escaping from a punishment that his 
 forebodings told him would be terrible. 
 
 Throughout the whole of these preparations, 
 Ishmael rarely spoke. A gesture, or a glance of 
 the eye, served to indicate his pleasure to his 
 sons, and with these simple methods of communi- 
 cation all parties appeared content. When the 
 signal was made to proceed, the squatter threw 
 his rifle into the hollow of his arm and his axe 
 across his shoulder, taking the lead as usual. 
 Esther buried herself in the wagon which con- 
 tained her daughters ; the young men took their 
 customary places among the cattle or nigh the 
 teams ; and the whole proceeded, at their ordi- 
 nary dull but unremitted gait. 
 
 For the first time in many a day the squatter 
 turned his back toward the setting sun. The 
 route he held was in the direction of the settled 
 country, and the manner in which he moved suf- 
 ficed to tell his children, who had learned to read 
 their father’s determinations in his mien, that 
 their journey on the prairie was shortly to have 
 an end. Still nothing else transpired for hours, 
 that might denote the existence of any sudden or 
 violent revolution in the purposes or feelings of 
 Ishmael. During all that time he marched alone, 
 keeping a few hundred rods in front of his teams, 
 seldom giving any sign of extraordinary excite- 
 ment. Once or twice, indeed, his huge figure was 
 seen standing on the summit of some distant 
 swell, with the head bent toward the earth, as he 
 leaned on his rifle ; but then these moments of 
 intense thought were rare, and of short continu- 
 ance. The train had long thrown its shadows 
 toward the east, before any material alteration 
 was made in the disposition of their march. 
 Water-courses were waded, plains were passed, 
 and rolling ascents risen and descended, without 
 producing the smallest change. Long practised 
 
m 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 in the difficulties of that peculiar species of travel- 
 ling in which he was engaged, the squatter avoid- 
 ed the more impracticable obstacles of their route 
 by a sort of instinct, invariably inclining to the 
 right or left in season, as the formation of the 
 land, the presence of trees, or the signs of rivers, 
 forewarned him of the necessity of such move- 
 ments. 
 
 At length the hour amved when charity to 
 man and beast required a temporary suspension 
 of labor. Ishmael chose the required spot with 
 his customary, sagacity. The regular formation 
 of the country, such as it has been described in 
 the earlier pages of our book, had long been in- 
 terrupted by a more unequal and broken surface. 
 There were, it is true, in general, the same wide 
 and empty wastes, the same rich and extensive 
 bottoms, and that wild and singular combination 
 of swelling fields and of nakedness, which gives 
 that region the appearance of an ancient country, 
 incomprehensibly stripped of its people and their 
 dwellings. But these distinguishing features of 
 the rolling prairies had long been interrupted by 
 irregular hillocks, occasional masses of rock, and 
 broad belts of forest. 
 
 Ishmael chose a spring that broke out of the 
 base of a rock some forty or fifty feet in eleva- 
 tion, as a place well suited to the wants of his 
 herds. The water moistened a small swale that 
 lay beneath the spot, which yielded, in return for 
 the fecund gift, a scanty growth of grass. A 
 solitary willow had taken root in the alluvion, and, 
 profiting by its exclusive possession of the soil, 
 the tree had sent up its stem far above the crest 
 of the adjacent rock, whose peaked summit had 
 once been shadowed by its branches. But its 
 loveliness had gone with the mysterious principle 
 of life. As if in mockery of the meagre show of 
 verdure that the spot exhibited, it- remained a 
 noble and solemn monument of former fertility. 
 The larger, ragged, and fantastic branches still 
 obtruded themselves abroad, while the white and 
 hoary trunk stood naked and tempest-riven. Not 
 a leaf nor a sign of vegetation was to be seen 
 about it. In all things it proclaimed the frailty 
 of existence, and the fulfilment of time. 
 
 Here Ishmael, after making the customary 
 signal for the train to approach, threw his vast 
 frame upon the earth, and seemed to muse on the 
 deep responsibility of his present situation. His 
 sons were not long in arriving ; for the cattle no 
 sooner scented the food and water than they 
 quickened their pace, and then succeeded the 
 usual bustle and avocations of a halt. 
 
 The impression made by the scene of that 
 morning was not so deep or lasting, on the chil- 
 
 dren of Ishmael and Esther, as to induce them t« 
 forget the wants of Nature. But while the sons 
 were searching among their stores for something 
 substantial to appease their hunger, and the 
 younger fry were wrangling about their simple 
 dishes, the parents of the unnurtured family were 
 differently employed. 
 
 When the squatter saw that all, even to the 
 reviving Abiram, were busy in administering to 
 their appetites, he gave his downcast partner a 
 glance of his eye, and withdrew toward a distant 
 roll of the land, which bounded the view toward 
 the east. The meeting of the pair in this naked 
 spot was like an interview held above the grave 
 of their murdered son. Ishmael signed to his 
 wife to take a seat beside him on a fragment of 
 rock, and then followed a space during which 
 neither seemed disposed to speaks 
 
 “We have journeyed together long, through 
 good and bad,” Ishmael at length commenced: 
 “ much have we had to try us, and some bitter 
 cups have we been made to swallow, my woman; 
 but nothing like this has ever before lain in my 
 path.” 
 
 “It is a heavy cross for a poor, misguided, 
 and sinful woman to bear ! ” returned Esther, 
 bowing her head to her knees, and partly con- 
 cealing her face in her dress. “ A heavy and a 
 burdensome weight is this to be laid upon the 
 shoulders of a sister and a mother ! ” 
 
 “ Ay ; therein lies the hardship of the case. 
 I had brought my mind to the punishment of that 
 houseless trapper, with no great strivings, for the 
 man had done me few favors, and God forgive 
 me if I suspected him wrongfully of much evil ! 
 This is, however, bringing shame in at one door 
 of my cabin in order to drive it out at the oth- 
 er. But shall a son of mine be murdered, and he 
 who did it go at large ? — the boy would never 
 rest ! ”, 
 
 “ Oh ! Ishmael, we pushed the matter far ! 
 Had little been said, who would have been the 
 wiser? Our consciences might then have been 
 quiet.” 
 
 “ Eest’er,” said the husband, turning on her 
 a reproachful but still a dull regard, “ the hour 
 has been, my woman, when you thought another 
 hand had done this wickedness.” 
 
 “I -did, I did! the Lord gave me the feeling 
 as a punishment for my sins ! but his mercy was 
 not slow in lifting the veil; I looked into the 
 book, Ishmael, and there I found the words of 
 comfort.” 
 
 “ Have you that book at hand, woman ? it may 
 happen to advise in such a dreary business.” 
 
 Esther fumbled in her pocket, and was not 
 
ESTHER'S BIBLE. 
 
 175 
 
 long in producing the fragment of a Bible which 
 had been thumbed and smoke-dried till the print 
 was nearly illegible. It was the only article in 
 the nature of a book that was to be found among 
 the chattels of the squatter, and it had been pre- 
 served by his wife as a melancholy relic of more 
 prosperous, and possibly of more innocent days. 
 She had long been in the habit of resorting to it 
 under the pressure of such circumstances as were 
 palpably beyond human redress, though her spirit 
 and resolution rarely needed support under those 
 that admitted of reparation through any of the 
 ordinary means of reprisal. In this manner 
 Esther had made a sort of convenient ally of the 
 word of God; rarely troubling it for counsel, how- 
 ever, except when her own incompetency to avert 
 an evil was too apparent to be disputed. We 
 shall leave casuists to determine how far she re- 
 sembled any other believers in this particular, 
 and proceed directly with the matter before us 
 
 “There are many awful passages in these 
 pages, Ishmael,” she said, when the volume was 
 opened, and the leaves were slowly turning under 
 her finger, “ and some there ar’ that teach the rules 
 of punishment.” 
 
 Her husband made a gesture for her to find 
 one of those brief rules of conduct which have 
 been received among all Christian nations as the 
 direct mandates of the Creator, and which have 
 been found so just, that even they who deny their 
 high authority, admit their wisdom. Ishmael 
 listened with grave attention as his companion 
 read all those verses which her memory suggested, 
 and which were thought applicable to the situa- 
 tion in which they found themselves. He made 
 her show him the words, which he regarded with 
 a sort of strange reverence. A resolution once 
 taken was usually irrevocable in one who was 
 moved with so much difficulty. He put his hand 
 upon the book and closed the pages himself, as 
 much as to apprise his wife that ha was satisfied. 
 Esther, who so well knew his character, trem- 
 bled at the action, and, casting a glance at his 
 steady eye, she said : 
 
 “ And yet, Ishmael, my blood and the blood 
 of my children is in his veins ! cannot mercy be 
 shown ? ” 
 
 “Woman,” he answered, sternly, “when we 
 believed that miserable old trapper had done this 
 deed, nothing was said of mercy ! ” 
 
 Esther made no reply, but, folding her arms 
 upon her breast, she sat silent and thoughtful for 
 many minutes. Then she once more turned her 
 anxious gaze upon the countenance of her hus- 
 band, where she found all passion and care ap- 
 parent' y buried in the coldest apathy. Satisfied 
 
 now that the fate of her brother was scaled, and 
 possibly conscious how well he merited the pun- 
 ishment that was meditated, she no longer thought 
 of mediation. No more words passed between 
 them. Their eyes met for an instant, and then 
 both arose and walked in profound silence toward 
 the encampment. 
 
 The squatter found his children expecting his 
 return in the usual listless manner with which 
 they awaited all coming events. The cattle were 
 already herded, and the horses in their gears in 
 readiness to proceed, so soon as he should indi- 
 cate that such was his pleasure. The children 
 were already in their proper vehicle, and, in short, 
 nothing delayed the departure but the absence of 
 the parents of the wild brood. 
 
 “Abner,” said the father, with the delibera- 
 tion with which all his proceedings were charac- 
 terized, “ take the brother of your mother from 
 the wagon, and let him stand on the ’arth.” 
 
 Abiram issued from his place of concealment, 
 trembling, it is true, but far from destitute of 
 hopes as to his final success in appeasing the just 
 resentment of his kinsman. After throwing a 
 glance around him with the vain wish of finding 
 a single countenance in which he might detect a 
 solitary gleam of sympathy, he endeavored to 
 smother those apprehensions that were by this 
 time reviving in their original violence, by for- 
 cing a sort of friendly communication between 
 himself and the squatter : 
 
 “ The beasts are getting jaded, brother,” he 
 said ; “ and as we have made so good a inarch 
 already, is it not time to ’camp ? To my eye you 
 may go far before a better place than this is found 
 to pass the night in.” 
 
 “ ’Tis well you like it. Your tarry here ar’ 
 likely to be long. — My sons, draw nigh and listen. 
 — Abiram White,” he added, lifting his cap, and 
 speaking with a solemnity and steadiness that 
 rendered even his dull mien imposing, “ you have 
 slain my first-born, and according to the laws of 
 God and man must you die ! ” 
 
 The kidnapper started at this terrible and sud- 
 den sentence, with the terror that one would ex- 
 hibit who unexpectedly found himself in the 
 grasp of a monster from whose power there was 
 no retreat. Although filled with the most serious 
 forebodings of what might be his lot,, his courage 
 had not been equal to look his danger in the face, 
 and, with the deceitful consolation with which 
 timid tempers are apt to conceal their desperate 
 condition from themselves, he had rather courted 
 a treacherous relief in his cunning, than prepared 
 himself for the worst. 
 
 “ Die ! ” he repeated, in a voice that scarcely 
 
176 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 issued from his chest ; “ a man is surely safe among 
 his kinsmen ? ” 
 
 “ So thought my boy,” returned the squatter, 
 motioning for the team that contained his wife 
 and the girls to proceed, as he very coolly exam- 
 ined the priming of his piece. “ By the rifle did 
 you destroy my son ; it is fit and just that you 
 meet your end by the same weapon.” 
 
 Abiram stared about him with a gaze that be- 
 spoke an unsettled reason. He even laughed, as 
 if he would not only persuade himself but others 
 that what he heard was some pleasantry intended 
 to try his nerves. But nowhere did his frightful 
 merriment meet with an answering echo. All 
 around was solemn and still. The visages of his 
 nephews were excited, but cold toward him, and 
 that of his former confederate frightfully deter- 
 mined. This very steadiness of mien was a 
 thousand times more alarming and hopeless than 
 any violence could have proved. The latter might 
 possibly have touched his spirit and awakened 
 resistance, but the former threw him entirely on 
 the feeble resources of himself. 
 
 “Brother,” he said, in a hurried, unnatural 
 whisper, “ did I hear you ? ” 
 
 “ My words are plain, Abiram White : thou 
 hast done murder, and for the same must thou 
 die ? ” 
 
 “ Esther ! sister, sister, will you leave me ! 
 0 sister ! do you hear my call ? ” 
 
 “ I hear one speak from the grave ! ” returned 
 the husky tones of Esther, as the wagon passed 
 the spot where the criminal stood. “ It is the 
 voice of my first-born calling aloud for justice! 
 God have mercy, God have mercy on your soul ! ” 
 
 The team slowly pursued it3 route, and the 
 deserted Abiram now found himself deprived of 
 the smallest vestige of hope. Still he could not 
 summon fortitude to meet his death, and, had not 
 his limbs refused to aid him, he would yet have 
 attempted to fly. Then, by a sudden revolution 
 from hope to utter despair, he fell upon his knees, 
 and commenced a prayer in which cries for mercy 
 to God and to his kinsman were wildly and blas- 
 phemously mingled. The sons of Ishraael turned 
 away in horror at the disgusting spectacle, and 
 even the stern nature of the squatter began to 
 bend before so abject misery. 
 
 “ May that which you ask of Him be granted,” 
 he said, “ but a father can never forget a mur- 
 dered child.” 
 
 He was answered by the most humble appeals 
 for time. A week, a day, an hour, were each im- 
 plored with an earnestness commensurate to the 
 value they receive when a whole life is compressed 
 otto their short duration. The squatter was trou- 
 
 bled, and at length he yielded in part to the peti- 
 tions of the criminal. His final purpose was not 
 altered, though he changed the means. “ Abner,” 
 he said, “ mount the rock and look on every side, 
 that we may be sure none are nigh.” 
 
 While his nephew was obeying this order, 
 gleams of reviving hope were seen shooting 
 across the quivering features of the kidnapper. 
 The report was favorable, nothing having life, the 
 retiring teams excepted, was to be seen. A mes- 
 senger was, however, coming from the latter in 
 great apparent haste. Ishmael awaited its arrival. 
 He received from the hands of one of his wonder- 
 ing and frightened girls a fragment of that book 
 which Esther had preserved with so much care. 
 The squatter beckoned the child away, and placed 
 the leaves in the hands of the criminal. 
 
 “ Eest’er has sent you this,” he said, “ that in 
 your last moments you may remember God.” 
 
 “ Bless her, bless her ! a good and kind sister 
 has she been to me ! But time must be given 
 that I may read ; time, my brother, time ! ” 
 
 “Time shall not be wanting. You shall be 
 your own executioner, and this miserable office 
 shall pass away from my hands.” 
 
 Ishmael proceeded to put his new resolution 
 in force. The immediate apprehensions of the 
 kidnapper were quieted by an assurance that he 
 might yet live for days, though his punishment 
 was inevitable. A reprieve to one abject and 
 wretched as Abiram, temporarily produced the 
 same effects as a pardon. He was even foremost 
 in assisting in the appalling arrangements, and, 
 of all the actors in that solemn tragedy, his voice 
 alone was facetious and jocular. 
 
 A thin shelf of the rock projected beneath one 
 of the ragged arms of the willow. It was many 
 feet from the ground, and admirably adapted to 
 the purpose which, in fact, its appearance had 
 suggested. On this little platform the criminal 
 was placed, his arms bound at the elbows behind 
 his back, beyond the possibility of liberation, 
 with a proper cord leading from his neck to the 
 limb of the tree. The latter was so placed, that 
 when suspended the body could find no foothold. 
 The fragment of the Bible was placed in his 
 hands, and he was left to seek his consolation as 
 he might from its pages. 
 
 “And now, Abiram White,” said the squatter, 
 when his sons had descended from completing 
 this arrangement, “ I give you a last and solemn 
 asking. Death is before you in two shapes. 
 With this rifle can your misery be cut short, or 
 by that cord, sooner or later, must you meet your 
 end.” 
 
 “ Let me yet live ! 0 Ishmael you know *u>4 
 
DEATH OF ABIRAM. 
 
 177 
 
 how sweet life is when the last moment draws so 
 nigh ! ” 
 
 “ ’Tis done,” said the squatter, motioning for 
 his assistants to follow the herds and teams. “And 
 now, miserable man, that it may prove a consola- 
 tion to your end, I forgive you my wrongs and 
 leave you to your God.” 
 
 Ishmael turned and pursued his way across 
 the plain at his ordinary sluggish and ponderous 
 gait. Though his head was bent a little toward 
 the earth, his inactive mind did not prompt him 
 to cast a look behind. Once, indeed, he thought 
 he heard his name called in tones that were a lit- 
 tle smothered, but they failed to make him pause. 
 
 At the spot where he and Esther had con- 
 ferred he reached the boundary of the visible ho- 
 rizon from the rock. Here he stopped, and 
 ventured a glance in the direction of the place he 
 had just quitted. The sun was near dipping into 
 the plains beyond, and its last rays lighted the 
 naked branches of the willow. He saw the rag- 
 ged outline of the whole drawn against the glow- 
 ing heavens, and he even traced the still upright 
 form of the being he had left to his misery. Turn- 
 ing the roll of the swell, he proceeded with the 
 feelings of one who had been suddenly and vio- 
 lently separated from a recent confederate forever. 
 
 Within a mile the squatter overtook his teams. 
 His sons had found a place suited to the encamp- 
 ment for the night, and merely awaited his 
 approach to confirm their choice. Few words 
 were necessary to express his acquiescence. 
 Every thing passed in a silence more general and 
 remarkable than ever. The chidings of Esther 
 were not heard among her young, or, if heard, 
 they were more in the tones of softened admoni- 
 tion than in her usual upbraiding key. 
 
 No questions nor explanations passed between 
 the husband and his wife. It was only as the 
 latter was about to withdraw among her children 
 for the night, that the former saw her taking a 
 furtive look at the pan of his rifle. Ishmael bade 
 his sons seek their rest, announcing his intention 
 to look to the safety of the camp in person. When 
 all was still, he walked cut upon the prairie with 
 a sort of sensation that he found his breathing 
 among the tents too straitened. The night was 
 well adapted to heighten the feelings which had 
 been created by the events of the day. 
 
 The wind had risen with the moon, and it was 
 occasionally sweeping over the plain in a manner 
 that made it not difficult for the sentinel to im- 
 agine strange and unearthly sounds were mingling 
 in the blasts. Yielding to the extraordinary im- 
 pulses of which he was the subject, he cast a 
 glance around to see that all were slumbering in 
 
 security, and then he strayed toward the swell o 
 land already mentioned. Here the squatter found 
 himself at a point that commanded a view to the 
 east and to the west. Light, fleecy clouds were 
 driving before the moon, which was cold and 
 watery, though there were moments when its 
 placid rays were shed from clear blue fields, 
 seeming to soften objects to its own mild loveli- 
 ness. 
 
 For the first time, in a life of so much wild 
 adventure, Ishmael felt a keen sense of solitude. 
 The naked prairies began to assume the forms of 
 illimitable and dreary wastes, and the rushing of 
 the wind sounded like the whisperings of the dead* 
 It was not long before he thought a shriek was 
 borne past him on a blast. It did not sound like 
 a call from earth, but it swept frightfully through 
 the upper air, mingled with the hoarse accompa- 
 niment of the wind. The teeth of the squatter 
 were compressed, and his huge hand grasped the 
 rifle, as if it would crush the metal. Then came 
 a lull, a fresher blast, and a cry of horror that 
 seemed to have been uttered at the very portals 
 of his ears. A sort of echo burst involuntarily 
 from his own lips, as men shout under unnatural 
 excitement, and, throwing his rifle across his 
 shoulder, he proceeded toward the rock with the 
 strides of a giant. 
 
 It was not often that the blood of Ishmael 
 moved at the rate with which the fluid circulates 
 in the veins of ordinary men ; but now he felt it 
 ready to gush from every pore in his body. The 
 animal was aroused, in his most latent energies. 
 Ever as he advanced he heard those shrieks, 
 which sometimes seemed ringing among the clouds, 
 and sometimes passed so nigh as to appear to 
 brush the earth. At length there came a cry in 
 which there could be na delusion, or to which the 
 imagination could lend no horror. It appeared 
 to fill each cranny of the air, as the visible hori- 
 zon is often charged to fulness by the dazzling 
 flash of the electric fluid. The name of God was 
 distinctly audible, but it was awfully and blasphe- 
 mously blended with sounds that may not be re- 
 peated. The squatter stopped, and for a moment 
 he covered his ears with his hands. When he 
 withdrew the latter, a low and husky voice at his 
 elbow asked in smothered tones — 
 
 “ Ishmael, my man, heard ye nothing ? ” 
 
 “ Hist ! ” returned the husband, laying a power- 
 ful arm on Esther, without manifesting the small- 
 est surprise at the unlooked-for presence ot his 
 wife. “ Hist, woman ! if you have the fear of 
 Heaven, be still ! ” 
 
 A profound silence succeeded. Though the 
 wind rose and fell as before, its rushing was no Ion- 
 
178 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 ger mingled with those fearful cries. The sounds 
 were imposing and solemn, but it was the solem- 
 nity and majesty of Nature. 
 
 “ Let us go on,” said Esther ; “ all is hushed.” 
 
 “ Woman, what has brought you here ? de- 
 manded her husband, whose blood had returned 
 into its former channels, and whose thoughts had 
 already lost a portion of their excitement. 
 
 “ Ishmael, he murdered our first-born : but 
 it is not meet that the son of my mother should lie 
 upon the ground, like the carrion of a dog.” 
 
 “ Follow ! ” returned the squatter, again grasp- 
 ing his rifle, and striding toward the rock. The 
 distance was still considerable; and their ap- 
 proach, as they drew nigh the place of execution, 
 was moderated by awe. Many minutes had 
 passed before they reached a spot where they 
 might distinguish the outlines of the dusky ob- 
 jects. 
 
 “Where have you put the body ? ” whispered 
 Esther. “ See, here are pick and spade, that a 
 brother of mine may sleep in the bosom of the 
 earth ! ” 
 
 The moon broke from behind a mass of clouds, 
 and the eye of the woman was enabled to follow 
 the finger of Ishmael. It pointed to a human 
 form swinging in the wind, beneath the ragged 
 and shining arm of the willow. Esther bent her 
 head and veiled her eyes from the sight. But Ish- 
 mael drew nigher, and long contemplated his 
 work in awe, though not in compunction. The 
 leaves of the sacred book were scattered on the 
 ground, and even a fragment of the shelf had been 
 displaced by the kidnapper in his agony. But 
 all was now in the stillness of death. The grim 
 and convulsed countenance of the victim was at 
 times brought full into the light of the moon, and 
 again, as the wind lulled, the fatal rope drew a 
 dark line across its bright disk. The squatter 
 raised his rifle with extreme care, and fired. The 
 cord was cut, and the body came lumbering to 
 the earth, a heavy and insensible mass. 
 
 Until now Esther had not moved nor spoken. 
 But her hand was not slow to assist in the labor 
 of the hour. The grave was soon dug. It was 
 instantly made to receive its miserable tenant. 
 As the lifeless form descended, Esther, who sus- 
 tained the head, looked up into the face of her 
 husband with an expi’ession of anguish, and said : 
 
 “ Ishmael, my man, it is very terrible ! I can- 
 not kiss the corpse of my father’s child ! ” 
 
 The squatter laid his broad hand on the 
 bosom of the dead, and said : 
 
 “ Abiram White, we all have need of mercy; 
 from my soul do I forgive you ! May God in 
 Leaven have pity on your sins 1 ” 
 
 The woman bowed her face, and imprinted her 
 lips long and fervently on the pallid forehead of 
 her brother. After this came the falling clods and 
 all the solemn sounds of filling a grave. Esther 
 lingered on her knees, and Ishmael stood uncov- 
 ered while the woman muttered a prayer. All was 
 then finished. 
 
 On the following morning the teams and herds 
 of the squatter were seen pursuing their course 
 toward the settlements. As they approached the 
 confines of society, the train was blended among 
 a thousand others. Though some of the numer- 
 ous descendants of this peculiar pair were re- 
 claimed from their lalewss and semi-barbarous 
 lives, the principals of the family themselves were 
 never heard of more. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 “ — No leave take I ; for I will ride, 
 
 As far as land will let me, by your side.” 
 
 SlT A.KE9PE ARS . 
 
 The passage of the Pawnee to his village was 
 interrupted by no scene of violence. His veo- 
 geance had been as complete as it was summary. 
 Not even a solitary scout of the Sioux was left on 
 the hunting-grounds he was obliged to traverse, 
 and of course the journey of Middleton’s party 
 was as peaceful as if made in the bosom of the 
 States. The marches were timed to meet the 
 weakness of the females. In short, the victors 
 seemed to have lost every trace of ferocity with 
 their success, and appeared disposed to consult 
 the most trifling of the wants of that engrossing 
 people who were daily encroaching on their rights, 
 and reducing the red-men of the West from their 
 state of proud independence to the condition of 
 fugitives and wanderers. 
 
 Our limits will not permit a detail of the tri- 
 umphal entry of the conquerors. The exultation 
 of the tribe was proportioned to its previous de- 
 spondency. Mothers boasted of the honorable 
 deaths of their sons ; wives proclaimed the honor 
 and pointed to the scars of their husbands ; and 
 Indian girls rewarded the young braves with 
 songs of triumph. The trophies of their fallen en- 
 emies were exhibited, as conquered standards are 
 displayed in more civilized regions. The deeds of 
 former warriors were recounted by the aged men, 
 and declared to be eclipsed by the glory of this 
 victory ; while Hard-Heart himself, so distin- 
 guished for his exploits from boyhood to that hour, 
 as unanimously proclaimed and reproclairaed the 
 worthiest chief and the stoutest brave that the 
 
HARD-HEART’S FAREWELL SPEECH. 
 
 179 
 
 Walicondahhid ever bestowed on his most fa. 
 vored children, the Pawnees of the Loups. 
 
 Notwithstanding the comparative security in 
 which Middleton found his recovered treasure, he 
 was not sorry to see his faithful and sturdy artil- 
 lerists standing among the throng as he entered 
 in the wild train, and lifting their voices in a mar- 
 tial shout to greet his return. The presence of 
 this force, small as it w r as, removed every shadow 
 of uneasiness from his mind. It made him mas- 
 ter of his movements, gave him dignity and im- 
 portance in the eyes of his new friends, and would 
 enable him to overcome the difficulties of the wide 
 region which still lay between the village of the 
 Pawnees and the nearest fortress of his country- 
 men. A lodge was yielded to the exclusive pos- 
 session of Inez and Ellen ; and even Paul, when he 
 saw an armed sentinel in the uniform of the States 
 pacing before its entrance, was content to stray 
 among the dwellings of the “ red-skins,” prying 
 with but little reserve into their domestic econo- 
 my, commenting sometimes jocularly, sometimes 
 gravely, and always freely, on their different ex- 
 pedients, or endeavoring to make the wondering 
 housewives comprehend his quaint explanations 
 of what he conceived to be the better customs of 
 the whites. 
 
 This inquiring and troublesome spirit found 
 no imitators among the Indians. The delicacy and 
 reserve of Hard-Heart were communicated to his 
 people. When every attention that could be sug. 
 gested by their simple manners and narrow wants 
 had been fulfilled, no intrusive foot presumed to 
 approach the cabins devoted to the service of 
 the strangers. They were left to seek their re- 
 pose in the manner which most comported wdth 
 their habits and inclinations. The songs and re- 
 joicings of the tribe, however, ran far into the 
 night, during the deepest hours of which the voice 
 of more than one warrior was heard, recounting, 
 from the top of his lodge, the deeds of his people 
 and the glory of their triumphs. 
 
 Every thing having life, notwithstanding the 
 excesses of the night, was abroad with the appear- 
 ance of the sun. The expression of exultation, 
 which had so lately been seen on every counte- 
 nance, was now changed to one better suited to 
 the feeling of the moment. It was understood 
 by all, that the pale-faces, who had befriended 
 their chief, were about to take their final leave of 
 the tribe. The soldiers of Middleton, in anticipa- 
 tion of his arrival, had bargained with an unsuc- 
 cessful trader for the use of his boat, which lay 
 in the stream ready to receive its cargo, and noth- 
 ing remained to complete the arrangements for 
 the long journey. 
 
 Middleton did not see this moment arrive en- 
 tirely without distrust. The admiration with 
 which Hard-Heart regarded Inez had not escaped 
 his jealous eye, any more than had the lawless 
 wishes of Mahtoree. He knew the consummate 
 manner in which a savage could conceal his de- 
 signs, and he felt that it would be a culpable 
 weakness to be unprepared for the worst. Secret 
 instructions were therefore given to his men, while 
 the preparations they made w T ere properly masked 
 behind the show of military parade with which 
 it was intended to signalize their departure. 
 
 The conscience of the young soldier reproached 
 him when he saw the whole tribe accompanying 
 his party to the margin of the stream, with un- 
 armed hands and sorrowful countenances. They 
 gathered in a circle around the strangers and 
 their chief, and became not only peaceful but 
 highly-interested observers of what was passing. 
 As it was evident that Hard-Heart intended to 
 speak, the former stopped, and manifested thei; 
 readiness to listen, the trapper performing th* 
 office of interpreter. Then the young chief ad 
 dressed his people, in the usual metaphorical lan 
 guage of an Indian. He commenced by alluding 
 to the antiquity and renown of his own nation. 
 He spoke of their successes in the hunts and on 
 the war-path ; of the manner in which they had 
 always known how to defend their rights and to 
 chastise their enemies. After he had said enough 
 to manifest his respect for the greatness of the 
 Loups, and to satisfy the pride of the listeners, 
 he made a sudden transition to the race of w hom 
 the strangers were members. He compared their 
 countless numbers to the flights of migratory 
 birds in the season of blossoms, or in the fall of 
 the year. With a delicacy that none knew better 
 how to practise than an Indian warrior, he made 
 no direct mention of the rapacious tempers that 
 so many of them had betrayed, in their dealings 
 with the red-men. Feeling that the sentiment of 
 distrust was strongly engrafted in the tempers of 
 his tribe, he rather endeavored to soothe any just 
 resentment they might entertain, by indirect ex- 
 cuses and apologies. He reminded the listeners 
 that even the Pawnee Loups had been obliged to 
 chase many unworthy individuals from their vil- 
 lages. The Wahcondah sometimes veiled his 
 countenance from a red-man. No doubt the 
 Great Spirit of the pale-faces often looked darklj 
 on his children. Such as w ere abandoned to the 
 worker of evil could never be brave or virtuous, 
 let the color of the skin be what it might. He 
 bade his young men look at the hands of the Big- 
 knives. They were not empty, like those of hun- 
 gry beggars. Neither were they filled with goods, 
 
180 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 like those of knavish traders. They were, like 
 themselves, warriors, and they carried arms 
 which they knew well how to use — they were 
 worthy to be called brothers ! 
 
 Then he directed the attention of all to the 
 chief of the strangers. He was a son of their 
 great white father. He had not come upon the 
 prairies to frighten the buffaloes from their pas- 
 tures, or to seek the game of the Indians. Wicked 
 men had robbed him of one of his wives ; no 
 doubt she was the most obedient, the meekest, 
 the loveliest of them all. They had only to open 
 their eyes to see that his words must be true. 
 Now that the white chief had found his wife, he 
 was about to return to his own pieople in peace. 
 He would tell them that the Pawnees were just, 
 and there would be a line of wampum between 
 the two nations. Let all his people wish the 
 strangers a safe return to their towns. The war- 
 riors of the Loups knew both how to receive 
 their enemies, and how to clear the briers from 
 the path of their friends. 
 
 The heart of Middleton beat quick as the young 
 partisan * alluded to the charms of Inez, and for 
 an instant he cast an impatient glance at his 
 little line of artillerists ; but the chief from that 
 moment appeared to forget he had ever seen so 
 fair a being. His feelings, if he had any on the 
 subject, were veiled behind the cold mask of 
 Indian self-denial. He took each warrior by the 
 hand, not forgetting the meanest soldier, but his 
 cold and collected eye never wandered for an 
 instant toward either of the females. Arrange- 
 ments had been made for their comfort, with a 
 prodigality and care that had not failed to excite 
 some surprise in his young men, but in no other 
 particular did he shock their manly pride, by 
 betraying any solicitude in behalf of the weaker 
 sex. 
 
 The leave-taking was general and imposing. 
 Each male Pawnee was sedulous to omit no one 
 of the strange warriors in his attentions, and of 
 course the ceremony occupied some time. The 
 only exception, and that was not general, was in 
 the case of Dr. Battius. Not a few of the young 
 men, it is true, were indifferent about lavishing 
 civilities on one of so doubtful a profession, but 
 the worthy naturalist found some consolation in 
 
 * The Americans and the Indians have adopted several 
 words, which each believe peculiar to the language of the 
 others. Thus “ squaw,” “ papoose,” or child, wigwam, etc., 
 etc., thopgh it is doubtful whether they belonged at all 
 to any Indian dialect, are much used by both white and 
 red men in their intercourse. Many words are derived 
 from the French, in this species of prairie nomaic. Par- 
 tisan, brave, etc., are of the number. 
 
 the more matured politeness of the old men, who 
 had inferred that, though not of much use in war, 
 the medicine of the Big-knives might possibly bo 
 made serviceable in peace. 
 
 When all of Middleton’s party had embarked, 
 the trapper lifted a small bundle, which had lain 
 at his feet during the previous proceedings, and, 
 whistling Hector to his side, he was the last to 
 take his seat. The artillerists gave the usual 
 cheers, which were answered by a shout from 
 the tribe, and then the boat was shoved into the 
 current, and began to glide swiftly down its 
 stream. 
 
 A long and a musing, if not a melancholy 
 silence, succeeded this departure. It was first 
 broken by the trapper, whose regret was not the 
 least visible in his dejected and sorrowful eye : 
 
 “ They are a valiant and an honest tribe,” he 
 said ; “ that will I say boldly in their favor ; and 
 second only do I take them to be to that once 
 mighty but now scattered people, the Delawares 
 of the Hills. Ah’s me, captain, if you had seen 
 as much good and evil as I have seen in these 
 nations of red-skins, you would know of how 
 much value was a brave and simple-minded war- 
 rior. I know that some are to be found, who 
 both think and say that an Indian is but little 
 better than the beasts of these naked plains. 
 But it is needful to be honest in one’s self, to be 
 a fitting judge of honesty in others. No doubt, no 
 doubt, they know their enemies, and little do they 
 care to show to such any great confidence or 
 love.” 
 
 “ It is the way of man,” returned the captain ; 
 “ and it is probable they are not wanting in any 
 of his natural qualities.” 
 
 “ No, no ; it is little that they want, that Na- 
 tur’ has had to give. But as little does he know 
 of the temper of a red-skin, who has seen but 
 one Indian, or one tribe, as he knows of the color 
 of feathers who has only looked upon a crow. 
 — Now, friend steersman, just give the boat a 
 sheer toward yonder low sandy point, and a favor 
 will be granted at a short asking.” 
 
 “ For what ? ” demanded Middleton ; “ we are 
 now in the swiftest of the current, and by draw- 
 ing to the shore we shall lose the force of the 
 stream.” 
 
 “ Your tarry will not be long,” returned tho 
 old man, applying his own hand to the execution 
 of that which he had requested. The oarsmen 
 had seen enough of his influence with their leader 
 not to dispute his wishes, and, before time was 
 given for further discussion on the subject, the 
 bow of the boat had touched the land. 
 
 “ Captain,” resumed the other, untying his lit- 
 
THE TRAPPER’S REQUEST. 
 
 181 
 
 tie wallet with great deliberation, and even in a 
 manner to show he found satisfaction in the delay, 
 “ I wish to offer you a small matter of trade. 
 No great bargain, mayhap ; but still the best 
 that one, of whose hand the skill of the rifle has 
 taken leave, and who has become no better than 
 a miserable trapper, can offer before we part.” 
 
 “ Part ! ” was echoed from every mouth, among 
 those who had so recently shared his dangers, and 
 profited by his care. 
 
 “ What the devil, old trapper ! do you mean 
 to foot it to the settlements, when here is a boat 
 that will float the distance in half the time that 
 the jackass the doctor has given the Pawnee, 
 could trot along the same ? ” 
 
 “Settlements, boy! It is long sin’ I took 
 my leave of the waste and wickedness of the set- 
 tlements and the villages. If I live in a clearing, 
 here, it is one of the Lord’s making, and I have no 
 hard thoughts on the matter; but never again 
 shall I be seen running wilfully into the danger 
 of immoralities.” 
 
 “ I had not thought of parting,” answered 
 Middleton, endeavoring to seek some relief from 
 the uneasiness he felt, by turning his eyes on the 
 sympathizing countenances of his friends; “on 
 the contrary, I had hoped and believed that you 
 would have accompanied us below, where, I give 
 you a sacred pledge, nothing shall be wanting to 
 make your days comfortable.” 
 
 “Yes, lad, yes; you would do your endeav- 
 ors ; but what are the strivings of man against 
 the working of the devil ? Ay, if kind offers and 
 good wishes could have done the thing, I might 
 have been a Congress-man, or perhaps a governor, 
 years agone. Your gran’ther wished the same, 
 and there are them still living in the Otsego 
 mountains, as I hope, who would gladly have 
 given me a palace for my dwelling. But what 
 are riches without content ? My time must now 
 be short, at any rate, and I hold it’s no mighty 
 sin for one who has acted his part honestly near 
 ninety winters and summers, to wish to pass the 
 few hours that remain in comfort. If you think 
 I have done wrong in coining thus far to quit you 
 again, captain, I will own the reason of the act, 
 without shame or backwardness. Though I have 
 seen so much of the wilderness, it is not to be 
 gainsaid that my feelings, as well as my skin, are 
 white. Now, it would not be a fitting spectacle 
 that yonder Pawnee Loups should look upon the 
 weakness of an old warrior, if weakness he should 
 happen to show in parting forever from those he 
 has reason to love, though he may not set his 
 heart so strongly on them as to wish to go into 
 the settlements in their company.” 
 
 “Harkee, old trapper,” said Paul, clearing hia 
 throat with a desperate effort, as if determined to 
 give his voice a clear exit, “ I have just one bar- 
 gain to make, since you talk of trading, which is 
 neither more nor less than this : I offer you, as 
 my side of the business, one half of my shanty, 
 nor do I much care if it be the biggest half ; the 
 sweetest and the purest honey that can be made 
 of the wild-locust; always enough to eat, with 
 now and then a mouthful of venison, or, for that 
 matter, a morsel of buffalo’s hump, seeing that I 
 intend to push my acquaintance with the animal, 
 and as good and as tidy cooking as can come from 
 the hands of one like Ellen Wade, here, who will 
 shortly be Nelly somebody-else, and altogether 
 such general treatment as a decent man might be 
 supposed to pay to his best friend, or, for that 
 matter, to his own father ; in return for the same, 
 you ar’ to give us at odd moments some of your 
 ancient traditions, perhaps a little wholesome ad- 
 vice on occasions, in small quantities at a time, 
 and as much of your agreeable company as you 
 please.” 
 
 “ It is well — it is well, boy,” returned the old 
 man, fumbling at his wallet ; “ honestly offered, 
 and not unthankfully declined — but it cannot be ; 
 no, it can never be.” 
 
 “Venerable Venator,” said Dr. Battius, “ there 
 ai’e obligations which every man owes to society 
 and to human nature. It is time that you should 
 return to your countrymen, to deliver up some of 
 those stores of experimental knowledge that you 
 have doubtless obtained by so long a sojourn in 
 the wilds, which, however they may be corrupted 
 by preconceived opinions, will prove acceptable 
 bequests to those whom, as you say, you must 
 shortly leave forever.” 
 
 “Friend physicianer,” returned the trapper, 
 looking the other steadily in the face, “ as it would 
 be no easy matter to judge of the temper of the 
 rattler by considering the fashions of the moose, 
 so it would be hard to speak of the usefulness of 
 one man by thinking too much of the deeds of 
 another. You have your gifts like others, I sup- 
 pose, and little do I wish to disturb them. But 
 as to me, the Lord has made me for a doer and not 
 a talker, and therefore do I consider it no harm 
 to shut my ears to your invitation.” 
 
 “ It is enough,” interrupted Middleton ; “ I 
 have seen and heard so much of this extraordinary 
 man, as to know that persuasions will not change 
 his purpose. — First, we will hear your request, 
 my friend, and then we will consider what may 
 be best done for your advantage.” 
 
 “It is a small matter, captain,” returned the 
 old man, succeeding at length in opening his 
 
182 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 bundle. “ A small and trifling matter is it, to 
 what I once used to offer in the way of bargain ; 
 but then it is the best I have, and therein not to 
 be despised. Here are the skins of four beavers, 
 that I took, it might be a month afore we met, 
 and here is another from a raccoon, that is of no 
 great matter to be sure, but which may serve to 
 make weight atween us.” 
 
 “And what do you propose to do with 
 them ? ” 
 
 “ I offer them in lawful barter. Them knaves 
 the Siouxes — the Lord forgive me for ever believ- 
 ing it was the Konzas ! — have stolen the best of 
 my traps, and driven me altogether to make-shift 
 inventions, which might foretell a dreary winter 
 for me should my time stretch into another sea- 
 son. I wish you therefore to take the skins, and 
 to offer them to some of the trappers you will not 
 fail to meet below, in exchange for a few traps, 
 and to send the same into the Pawnee village in 
 my name. Be careful to have my mark painted 
 on them ; a letter N, with a hound’s ear, and the 
 lock of a rifle. There is no red-skin who will then 
 dispute my right. For all which trouble I have 
 little more to offer than my thanks, unless my 
 friend, the bee-hunter here, will accept of the 
 raccoon, and take on himself the special charge 
 of the whole matter.” 
 
 “ If I do may I be — ! ” The mouth of Paul 
 was stopped by the hand of Ellen, and he was 
 obliged to swallow the rest of the sentence, which 
 he did with a species of emotion that bore no 
 slight resemblance to the process of strangula- 
 tion. 
 
 “Well, well,” returned the old man, meekly, 
 “ I hope there is no heavy offence in the offer. I 
 know that the skin of a raccoon is of small price, 
 but then it was no mighty labor that I asked in 
 return.” 
 
 “You entirely mistake the meaning of our 
 friend,” interrupted Middleton, who observed that 
 the bee-hunter was looking in every direction but 
 the right one, and that he was utterly unable to 
 make his own vindication. “ He did not mean to 
 say that he declined the charge, but merely that 
 he refused all compensation. It is unnecessary, 
 however, to say more of this ; it shall be my office 
 to see that the debt we owe is properly discharged, 
 and that all your necessities shall be antici- 
 pated.” 
 
 “ Anaa ! ” said the old man, looking up inquir- 
 ingly into the other’s face, as if to ask an expla- 
 nation. 
 
 “ It shall all be as you wish. Lay the skin3 
 with my baggage. We will bargain for you as for 
 ourselves.” 
 
 “ Thankee, thankee, captain ; your gran’thef 
 was of a free and generous mind. So much so, 
 in truth, that those just people, the Delawares, 
 called him the ‘ Open-hand.’ I wish, now, I was 
 as I used to be, in order that I might send in the 
 lady a few delicate martens for her tippets and 
 overcoats, just to show you that I know how to 
 give courtesy for courtesy. But do not expect the 
 same, for I am too old to give the promise ! It 
 will all be just as the Lord shall see fit. I can 
 offer you nothing else, for I haven’t lived so long 
 in the wilderness not to know the scrupulous 
 ways of a gentleman.” 
 
 “ Harkee, old trapper,” cried the bee-hunter, 
 striking his own hand into the open palm which 
 the other had extended, with a report but little 
 below the crack of a rifle, “ I have just two things 
 to say : firstly, that the captain has told you my 
 meaning better than I can myself; and, secondly, 
 if you want a skin, either for your private use or 
 to send abroad, I have it at your service ; and 
 that is the skin of one Paul Hover ! ” 
 
 The old man returned the grasp he received, 
 and opened his mouth to the utmost, in his ex- 
 traordinary, silent laugh. 
 
 “ You couldn’t have given such a squeeze, boy , 
 when the Teton squaws were about you with then 
 knives ! Ah ! you are in your prime, and in youi 
 vigor and happiness, if honesty lies in your path.’’ 
 Then the expression of his rugged features sud- 
 denly changed to a look of seriousness ana 
 thought. “ Come hither, lad,” he said, leading 
 the bee-hunter by a button, to the land, and speak- 
 ing apart in a tone of admonition and confidence ; 
 “ much has passed atween us on the pleasures 
 and respectableness of a life in the woods or on 
 the borders. I do not now mean to say that all 
 you have heard is not true ; but different tempers 
 call for different employments. You have taken 
 to your bosom, there, a good and kind child, and 
 it has become your duty to consider her, as well 
 as yourself, in setting forth in life. You are a 
 little given to skirting the settlements ; but to my 
 poor judgment the girl would be more like a 
 flourishing flower in the sun of a clearing, than in 
 the winds of the prairie. Therefore lorget an) 
 thing you may have heard from me, which is 
 nevertheless true, and turn your mind on the ways 
 of the inner country.” 
 
 Paul could only answer with a squeeze that 
 would have brought tears from the eyes of most 
 men, but which produced no other effect on the 
 indurated muscles of the other than to make him 
 laugh and nod, as if he received the same as a 
 pledge that the bee-hunter would remember his 
 advice. The trapper then turned away from his 
 
THE JOYFUL RETURN. 
 
 isa 
 
 rough but warm-hearted companion, and, having 
 called Hector from the boat, he seemed anxious 
 still to utter a few words more. 
 
 “ Captain,” he at length resumed, “ I know 
 when a poor man talks of credit he deals in a 
 delicate word, according to the fashions of the 
 world ; and when an old man talks of life, he 
 speaks of that which he may never see ; never- 
 theless, there is one thing I will say, and that is 
 not so much on my own behalf as on that of 
 another person. Here is Hector, a good and 
 faithful pup, that has long outlived the time of a 
 dog; and, like his master, he looks more to 
 comfort, now, than to any deeds in running. But 
 the creatur’ has his feelings as well as a Christian. 
 He has consorted latterly with his kinsman, there, 
 in such a sort as to find great pleasure in his 
 company, and I will acknowledge that it touches 
 ray feelings to part the pair so soon. If you will 
 set a value on your hound, I will endeavor to 
 send it to you in the spring, more especially 
 should them same traps come safe to hand ; or, 
 if you dislike parting with the animal altogether, 
 I will just ask you for his loan through the winter. 
 I think I can see my pup will not last beyond 
 that time, for I have judgment in these matters, 
 since many is the friend, both hound and red- 
 skin, that I have seen depart in my day, though 
 the Lord hath not yet seen fit to order his angels 
 to sound forth my name.” 
 
 “ Take him, take him,” cried Middleton ; “ take 
 all, or any thing ! ” 
 
 The old man whistled the younger dog to the 
 land ; and then he proceeded to the final adieux. 
 Little was said on either side. The trapper took 
 each person solemnly by the hand, and uttered 
 something friendly and kind to all. Middleton 
 was perfectly speechless, and was driven to af- 
 fect busying himself among the baggage. Paul 
 whistled with all his might, and even Obed took 
 his leave with an effort that bore the appearance 
 of desperate philosophical reso'lution. When he 
 had made the circuit of the whole, the old man, 
 with his own hands, shoved the boat into the cur- 
 rent, wishing God to speed them. Not a word 
 was spoken, nor a stroke of the oar given, until 
 the travellers had floated past a knoll that hid the 
 trapper from their view. He was last seen stand- 
 ing on the low point, leaning on his rifle, with 
 Hector crouched at his feet, and the younger dog 
 frisking along the sands, in the playfulness of 
 youth and vigor. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 “ — Methought I heard a voice.” 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The water-courses were at their height, and 
 the boat went down the swift current like a bird. 
 The passage proved prosperous and speedy. In 
 less than a third of the time that would have been 
 necessary for the same journey by land, it waa 
 accomplished by the favor of those rapid rivers. 
 Issuing from one stream into another, as the 
 veins of the human body communicate with the 
 larger channels of life, they soon entered the 
 grand artery of the Western waters, and landed 
 safely at the very door of the father of Inez. 
 
 The joy of Don Augustin, and the embarrass- 
 ment of the worthy Father Ignatius, may be ima- 
 gined. The former wept and returned thanks to 
 Heaven ; the latter returned thanks and did not 
 weep. The mild provincials were too happy to 
 raise any questions on the character of so joyful 
 a restoration ; and, by a sort of general consent, 
 it soon came to be an admitted opinion that the 
 bride of Middleton had been kidnapped by a vil- 
 lain, and that she was restored to her friends by 
 human agency There were, as respects this be- 
 lief, certainly a few skeptics, but then they enjoyed 
 their doubts in private, with that species of sub- 
 limated and solitary gratification that a miser finds 
 in gazing at his growing but useless hoards. 
 
 In order to give the worthy priest something 
 to employ his mind, Middleton made him the 
 instrument of uniting Paul and Ellen. The former 
 consented to the ceremony, because he found that 
 all his friends laid great stress on the matter ; but 
 shortly after he led his bride into the plains of 
 Kentucky, under the pretence of paying certain 
 customary visits to sundry members of the family 
 of Hover. While there, he took occasion to have 
 the marriage properly solemnized by a justice of 
 the peace of his acquaintance, in whose ability to 
 forge the nuptial chain he had much more faith 
 than in that of all the gownsmen within the pale 
 of Rome. Ellen, who appeared conscious that 
 some extraordinary preventives might prove neces- 
 sary to keep one of so erratic a temper as hei 
 partner within the proper matrimonial boundaries, 
 raised no objections to these double knots, and ab 
 parties were content. 
 
 The local importance Middleton had acquired, 
 by his union with the daughter of so affluent a 
 proprietor as Don Augustin, united to his personal 
 merit, attracted the attention of the government 
 He was soon employed in various situations of 
 responsibility and confidence, which both served 
 
184 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 to elevate- his character in the public estimation, 
 and to afford the means of patronage. The bee- 
 hunter was among the first of those to whom he 
 saw fit to extend his favor. It was far from dif- 
 ficult to find situations suited to the abilities of 
 Paul, in the state of society that existed three- 
 and-twenty years ago in those regions. The ef- 
 forts of Middleton and Inez inbehalf of her husband 
 were warmly and sagaciously seconded by Ellen, 
 and they succeeded, in process of time, in work- 
 ing a great and beneficial change in his character. 
 He soon became a landholder, then a prosperous 
 cultivator of the soil, and shortly after a town-offi- 
 cer. By that progressive change in fortunes, which 
 in the republic is often seen to be so singularly 
 accompanied by a corresponding improvement in 
 knowledge and self-respect, he went on, from step 
 to step, until his wife enjoyed the maternal 
 delight of seeing her children placed far beyond 
 the danger of returning to that state from which 
 both their parents had issued. Paul is actually at 
 this moment a member of the lower branch of the 
 Legislature of the State where he has long resided ; 
 and he is even notorious for making speeches 
 that have a tendency to put that deliberative body 
 n good-humor, and which, as they are based on 
 great practical knowledge suited to the condition 
 of the country, possess a merit that is much 
 wanted in many more subtle and fine-spun theo- 
 ries, that are daily heard, in similar assemblies, to 
 issue from the lips of certain instinctive poli- 
 ticians. But all these happy fruits were the 
 results of much care, and of a long period of 
 time. Middleton, who fills, with a credit better 
 suited to the difference in their educations, a seat 
 in a far higher branch of legislative authority, is 
 the source from which we have derived most of 
 the intelligence necessary to compose our legend. 
 In addition to what he has related of Paul, and 
 of his own continued happiness, he has added a 
 short narrative of what took place on a subse- 
 quent visit to the prairies, with which, as we 
 conceive it a suitable termination to what has 
 gone before, we shall judge it wise to conclude 
 our labors. 
 
 In the autumn of the year that succeeded the 
 season in which the preceding events occurred, 
 the young man, still in the military service, found 
 himself on the waters of the Missouri, at a point 
 not far remote from the Pawnee towns. Released 
 from any immediate calls of duty, and strongly 
 urged to the measure by Paul, who was in his 
 company, he determined to take horse, and cross 
 the country to visit the partisan, and to inquire 
 into the fate of his friend the trapper. As his 
 train was suited to his functions and rank, the 
 
 journey was effected, with privations and hard, 
 ships that are the accompaniments of all travel- 
 ling in a wild, but without any of those dangers 
 and alarms that marked his former passage 
 through the same regions. When within a prop- 
 er distance, he dispatched an Indian runner, be- 
 longing to a friendly tribe, to announce the ap- 
 proach of himself and party, continuing his route 
 at a deliberate pace, in order that the intelligence 
 might, as was customary, precede his arrival. 
 To the surprise of the travellers, their message 
 was unanswered. Hour succeeded hour, and mile 
 after mile was passed, without bringing either the 
 signs of an honorable reception, or the more sim- 
 ple assurances of a friendly welcome. At length 
 the cavalcade, at whose head rode Middleton and 
 Paul, descended from the elevated plain, on which 
 they had long been journeying, to a luxuriant 
 bottom, that brought them to the level of the vil- 
 lage of the Loups. The sun was beginning to 
 fall, and a sheet of golden light was spread over 
 the placid plain, lending to its even surface those 
 glorious tints and hues that the human imagina- 
 tion is apt to conceive form the embellishment 
 of still more imposing scenes. The verdure of 
 the year yet remained, and herds of horses and 
 mules were grazing peacefully in the vast natural 
 pasture, under the keeping of vigilant Pawnee 
 boys. Paul pointed out among them the well- 
 known form of Asinus, sleek, fat, and luxuriating 
 in the fulness of content, as he stood with reclin- 
 ing ears and closed eyelids, seemingly musing on 
 the exquisite nature of his present indolent en- 
 joyment. 
 
 The route of the party led them at no great 
 distance from one of those watchful youths who 
 was charged with a trust heavy as the principal 
 wealth of his tribe. He heard the trampling of 
 the horses, and cast his eye aside, but, instead of 
 manifesting curiosity or alarm, his look instantly 
 returned whence it had- been withdrawn, to the 
 spot where the village was known to stand. 
 
 “ There is something remarkable in all this,” 
 muttered Middleton, half offended at what he con- 
 ceived to be not only a slight to his rank, but 
 offensive to himself personally ; “ yonder boy has 
 heard of our approach, or he would not fail to 
 notify his tribe ; and yet he scarcely deigns to 
 favor us with a glance. Look to your arms, men ; 
 it may be necessary to let these savages feel our 
 strength.” 
 
 “ Therein, captain, I think you’re in an error,” 
 returned Paul ; “ if honesty is to be met on the 
 prairies at all, you will find it in our old friend 
 Hard-Heart ; neither is an Indian to be judged of 
 by the rules of a white. See ! we are not alto 
 
MIDDLETON AND PAUL VISIT THE PAWNEES 
 
 185 
 
 gether slighted, for here comes a party at last to 
 meet us, though it is a little pitiful as to show and 
 numbers.” 
 
 Paul was right in both particulars. A group 
 of horsemen were at length seen wheeling round 
 a little copse, and advanciug across the plain 
 directly toward them. The advance of this party 
 was slow and dignified. As it drew nigh, the 
 partisan of the Loups was seen at its head, fol- 
 lowed by a dozen younger warriors of his tribe. 
 They were all unarmed, nor did they even wear 
 any of those ornaments or feathers which are 
 considered testimonials of respect to the guest an 
 Indian receives, as well as evidence of his own 
 jnportance. 
 
 The meeting was friendly, though a little re- 
 strained on both sides. Middleton, jealous of 
 his own consideration, no less than of the author- 
 ity of his government, suspected some undue in- 
 fluence on the part of the agents of the Canadas ; 
 and, as he was determined to maintain the author- 
 ity of which he was the representative, he felt 
 himself constrained to manifest a hauteur that he 
 was far from feeling. It was not so easy to pene- 
 trate the motives of the Pawnees. Calm, digni- 
 fied, and yet far from repulsive, they set an exam- 
 ple of courtesy, blended with reserve, that many 
 a diplomatist of the most polished court might 
 have striven in vain to imitate. 
 
 In this manner the two parties continued their 
 course to the town. Middleton had time during 
 the remainder of the ride, to revolve in his mind 
 all the probable reasons which his ingenuity could 
 suggest for this strange reception. Although he 
 was accompanied by a regular interpreter, the 
 chiefs made their salutations in a manner that dis- 
 pensed with his services. Twenty times the cap- 
 tain turned his glance on his former friend, en- 
 deavoring to read the expression of his rigid feat- 
 ures. But every effort and all conjectures proved 
 equally futile. The eye of Hard-Heart was fixed, 
 composed, and a little anxious ; but, as to every 
 other emotion, impenetrable. He neither spoke 
 himself, nor seemed willing to invite discourse in 
 his visitors : it was therefore necessary for Mid- 
 dleton to adopt the patient manners of his com- 
 panions, and to await the issue for the explana- 
 tion. 
 
 When they entered the town, its inhabitants 
 were seen collected in an open space, where they 
 were arranged with the customary deference to 
 age and rank. The whole formed a large circle, in 
 the centre of which were perhaps a dozen of the 
 principal chiefs. Hard-Heart waved his hand as 
 he approached, and, as the mass of bodies opened, 
 he rode through, followed by his companions. 
 64 
 
 Here they dismounted ; and, as the beasts were 
 led apart, the strangers found themselves envi- 
 roned by a thousand grave, composed, but solici- 
 tous faces. 
 
 Middleton gazed about him in growing con- 
 cern, for no cry, no song, no shout welcomed him 
 among a people from whom he had so lately 
 parted with regret. His uneasiness, not to say 
 apprehensions, wa3 shared by all his followers. 
 Determination and stem resolution began to as- 
 sume the place of anxiety in every eye, as each 
 man silently felt for his arms, and assured himself 
 that his several weapons were in a state for ser- 
 vice. But there was no answering symptom of 
 hostility on the part of their hosts. Hard-Heart 
 beckoned for Middleton and Paul to follow, lead- 
 ing the way toward the cluster of forms that occu- 
 pied the centre of the circle. Here the visitors 
 found a solution of all the movements which had 
 given them so much reason for apprehension. 
 
 The trapper was placed on a rude seat, which 
 had been made, wjth studied care, to support his 
 frame in an upright and easy attitude. The first 
 glance of the eye told his former friends that the 
 old man was at length called upon to pay the last 
 tribute of Nature. His eye was glazed, and ap- 
 parently as devoid of sight as of expression. 
 His features were a little more sunken and 
 strongly marked than formerly ; but there, all 
 change, so far as exterior was concerned, might be 
 said to have ceased. His approaching end was 
 not to be ascribed to any positive disease, but 
 had been a gradual and mild decay of the physi- 
 cal powers. Life, it is true, still lingered in his 
 system ; but it was as if at times entirely ready 
 to depart, and then it would appear to reanimate 
 the sinking form, reluctant to give up the pos- 
 session of a tenement that had never been cor 
 rupted by vice or undermined by disease. It 
 would have been no violent fancy to have im- 
 agined that the spirit fluttered about the placid 
 lips of the old woodsman, reluctant tc depart 
 from a shell that had so long given it an tionest 
 and honorable shelter. 
 
 His body was placed so as to let the light of 
 the setting sun fall full upon the solemn features. 
 His head was bare, the long, thin locks of gray 
 fluttering lightly in the evening breeze. His rifle 
 lay upon his knee, and the other accoutrements 
 of the chase were placed at his side, within reach 
 of his hand. Between his feet lay the figure of 
 a hound, with its head crouching to the earth, as 
 if it slumbered ; and so perfectly easy and nat- 
 ural was its position, that a second glance was 
 necessary to tell Middleton he saw only the skin 
 of Hector, stuffed, by Indian tenderness and in- 
 
186 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 genuity, in a manner to represent the living ani- 
 mal. His own dog was playing at a distance with 
 the child of Tachechana and Mahtoree. The 
 mother herself stood at hand, holding in her arms 
 a second offspring, that might boast of a parent- 
 age no less honorable than that which belonged 
 to the son of Hard-Heart. Le Balafre was 
 seated nigh the dying trapper, with every mark 
 about his person that the hour of his own depart- 
 ure was not far distant. The rest of those im- 
 mediately in the centre were aged men, who had 
 apparently drawn near in order to observe the 
 manner in which a just and fearless warrior would 
 depart on the greatest of his journeys. 
 
 The old man was reaping the rewards of a 
 life remarkable for temperance and activity, in a 
 tranquil and placid death. His vigor in a man- 
 ner endured to the very last. Decay, when it did 
 occur, was rapid, but free from pain. He had 
 hunted with the tribe in the spring, and even 
 throughout most of the summer ; when his limbs 
 suddenly refused to perform their customary of- 
 fices. A sympathizing weakness took possession 
 of all his faculties; and the Pawnees believed 
 that they were going to lose, in this unexpected 
 manner, a sage and counsellor whom they had be- 
 gun both to love and respect. But, as we have 
 already said, the immortal occupant seemed un- 
 willing to desert its tenement. The lamp of life 
 flickered, without becoming extinguished. On 
 the morning of the day on which Middleton ar- 
 rived there was a general reviving of the powers 
 of the whole man. His tongue was again heard 
 in wholesome maxims, and his eye from time to 
 time recognized the persons of his friends. It 
 merely proved to be a brief and final intercourse 
 with the world, on the part of one who had al- 
 ready been considered, as to mental communion, 
 to have taken his leave of it forever. 
 
 When he had placed his guests in front of the 
 dying man, Hard-Heart, after a pause, that pro- 
 ceeded as much from sorrow as decorum, leaned a 
 little forward, and demanded : 
 
 “ Does my father hear the words of his son ? ” 
 
 “ Speak,” returned the trapper, in tones that 
 issued from his chest, but which were rendered 
 awfully distinct by the stillness that reigned in 
 the place. “ I am about to depart from the village 
 of the Loups, and shortly shall be beyond the 
 reach of your voice.” 
 
 “ Let the wise chief have no cares for his 
 journey,” continued Hard-Heart, with an earnest 
 solicitude that led him to forget, for the moment, 
 that others were waiting to address his adopted 
 parent ; “ a hundred Loups shall clear his path 
 from briers.” 
 
 “Pawnee, I die as I have lived, a Christian 
 man ! ” resumed the trapper, with a force of voice 
 that had the same startling effect on his hearers 
 as is produced by the trumpet, when its blast 
 rises suddenly and freely on the air, after its ob- 
 structed sounds have been heard struggling in the 
 distance ; “ as I came into life so will I leave it. 
 Horses and arms are not needed to stand in the 
 presence of the Great Spirit of my people. He 
 knows my color, and according to my gifts will 
 he judge my deeds.” 
 
 “ My father will tell my young men how many 
 Mingoes he has struck, and what acts of valor 
 and justice he has done, that they may know how 
 to imitate him.” 
 
 “ A boastful tongue is not heard in the heaven 
 of a white man ! ” solemnly returned the old man. 
 “ What I have done He has seen. His eyes are 
 always open. That which has been well done will 
 He remember ; wherein I have been wrong will 
 He not forget to chastise, though He will do the 
 same in mercy. No, my son; a pale-face may 
 not sing his own praises, and hope to have them 
 acceptable before his God ! ” 
 
 A little disappointed, the young partisan 
 stepped modestly back, making way for the recent 
 comers to approach. Middleton took one of the 
 meagre hands of the trapper, and, struggling to 
 command his voice, he succeeded in announcing 
 his presence. 
 
 The old man listened like one whose thoughts 
 were dwelling on a very different subject ; but, 
 when the other had succeeded in making him un- 
 derstand that he was present, an expression of 
 joyful recognition passed over his faded features. 
 
 “ I hope ypu have not so soon forgotten those 
 whom you so materially served ! ” Middleton 
 concluded. “ It would pain me to think my hold 
 on your memory was so light.” 
 
 “ Little that I have ever seen is forgotten,” 
 returned the trapper ; “ I am at the close of many 
 weary days, but there is not one among them all 
 that I could wish to overlook. I remember you, 
 with the whole of your company ; ay, and your 
 gran’ther, that went before you. I am glad that 
 you have come back upon these plains, for I had 
 need of one who speaks the English, since little 
 faith can be put in the traders of these regions. 
 Will you do a favor to an old and dyiDg 
 man ? ” 
 
 “ Name it,” said Middleton ; “ it shall be 
 done.” 
 
 “ It is a far journey to send such trifles,” re- 
 sumed the old man, who spoke at short intervals, 
 as strength and breath permitted — “a far and 
 weary journey is the same ; but kindnesses and 
 
THE TRAPPER AND HIS DOG. 
 
 187 
 
 friendships are things not to be forgotten. There 
 is a settlement among the Otsego hills — ” 
 
 “ I know the place,” interrupted Middleton, 
 observing that he spoke with increasing dif- 
 ficulty ; “ proceed to tell me what you would 
 have done.” 
 
 “ Take this rifle, pouch, and horn, and send 
 them to the person whose name is graven on the 
 plates of the stock — a trader cut the letters with 
 his knife — for it is long that I have intended to 
 send him such a token of my love I ” 
 
 “ It shall be so. Is there more that you could 
 wish ? ” 
 
 “ Little else have I to bestow. My traps I 
 give to my Indian son ; for honestly and kindly 
 has he kept his faith. Let him stand before me.” 
 
 Middleton explained to the chief what the 
 trapper had said, and relinquished his own place 
 to the other. 
 
 “ Pawnee,” continued the old man, always 
 changing his language to suit the person l\e ad- 
 dressed, and not unfrequently according to the 
 ideas he expressed, “ it is a custom of my people 
 for the father to leave his blessing with the son 
 before he shuts his eyes forever. This blessing I 
 give to you ; take it ; for the prayers of a Chris- 
 tian man will never make the path of a just war- 
 rior to the blessed prairies either longer or more 
 tangled ! May the God of a white man look on 
 your deeds with friendly eyes, and may you nev- 
 er commit an act that shall cause him to darken 
 his face. I know not whether we shall ever meet 
 again. There are many traditions concerning 
 Ihe place of Good Spirits. It is not for one like 
 me, old and experienced though I am, to set up 
 my opinions against a nation’s. You believe in 
 the blessed prairies, and I have faith in the say- 
 ings of my fathers. If both are true, our parting 
 will be final ; but, if it should prove that the same 
 meaning is hid under different words, we shall yet 
 stand together, Pawnee, before the face of your 
 Wahcondah, who will then be no other than my 
 God. There is much to be said in favor of both 
 religions, for each seems suited to its own people, 
 and no doubt it was so intended. I fear I have 
 not altogether followed the gifts of my color, in- 
 asmuch as I find it a little painful to give up for- 
 ever the use of the rifle, and the comforts of the 
 chase. But then the fault has been my own, see- 
 ing that it could not have been His. — Ay, Hec- 
 tor,” he continued, leaning forward a little, and 
 feeling for the ears of the hound, “ our parting 
 has come at last, dog, and it will be a long hunt. 
 You have been an honest, and a bold, and a faith- 
 ful hound. — Pawnee, you cannot slay the pup on 
 my grave, for where a Christian dog falls tb*** 
 
 he lies forever ; but you can be kind to him after 
 I am gone, for the love you bear his master.” 
 
 “ The words of my father are in my ears,” re- 
 turned the young partisan, making a grave and 
 respectful gesture of assent. 
 
 “ Do you hear what the chief has promised, 
 dog ? ” demanded the trapper, making an effort to 
 attract the notice of the insensible effigy of his 
 hound. Receiving no answering look, nor hear- 
 ing, any friendly whine, the old man felt for the 
 mouth, and endeavored to force his hand between 
 the cold lips. The truth then flashed upon him, 
 although he was far from perceiving the whole ex- 
 tent of the deception. Falling back in his seat, 
 he hung his head, like one who felt a severe and 
 unexpected shock. Profiting by this momentary 
 forgetfulness, two young Indians removed the skin 
 with the same delicacy of feeling that had induced 
 them to attempt the pious fraud. 
 
 “ The dog is dead ! ” muttered the trapper, 
 after a pause of many minutes ; “ a hound has his 
 time as well as a man ; and well has he filled his 
 days ! — Captain,” he added, making an effort to 
 wave his hand to Middleton, “ I am glad you have 
 come ; for though kind, and well meaning accord- 
 ing to the gifts of their color, these Indians are 
 not the men to lay the head of a white man in 
 his grave. I have been thinking, too, of this dog 
 at my feet : it will not do to set forth the opinion 
 that a Christian can expect to meet his hound 
 again; still there can be little harm in placing 
 what is left of so faithful a servant nigh the bones 
 of his master.” 
 
 “ It shall be as you desire.” 
 
 “ I’m glad you think with me in this matter. 
 In order, then, to save labor, lay the pup at my 
 feet ; or, for that matter, put him side by side. 
 A hunter need never be ashamed to be found in 
 company with his dog ! ” 
 
 “ I charge myself with your wish.” 
 
 The old man made a long and apparently a 
 musing pause. At times he raised his eyes wist- 
 fully, as if he would again address Middleton, but 
 some innate feeling appeared always to suppress 
 his words. The other, who observed his hesita- 
 tion, inquired, in a way most likely to encourage 
 him to proceed, whether there was aught else that 
 he could wish to have done, 
 
 “ I am without kith or kin in the wide world ! ” 
 the trapper answered ; “ when I am gone, there 
 will be an end of my race. We have never been 
 chiefs ; but honest, and useful in our way I hope 
 it cannot be denied we have always proved our- 
 selves. My father lies buried near the sea, and 
 the bones of his son will whiten on the prai- 
 ses — ” 
 
183 
 
 THE PRAIRIE. 
 
 “ Name the spot, and your remains shall be 
 placed by the side of your father,” interrupted 
 Middleton. 
 
 “ Not so, not so, captain. Let me sleep where 
 I have lived — beyond the din of the settlements ! 
 Still I see no need why the grave of an honest 
 man should be hid, like a red-skin in his ambush- 
 ment. I paid a man in the settlements to make 
 and put a graven stone at the head of my father’s 
 resting-place. It was of the value of twelve 
 beaver-skins, and cunningly and curiously was it 
 carved ! Then it told to all comers that the body 
 of such a Christian lay beneath ; and it spoke of 
 his manner of life, of his years, and of his honesty. 
 When we had done with the Frenchers in the old 
 war I made a journey to the spot, in order to see 
 that all was rightly performed, and glad I am to 
 say, the workman had not forgotten his faith.” 
 
 “ And such a stone you would have at your 
 grave ? ” 
 
 “ I ! no, no, I have no son but Hard-Heart, and 
 it is little that an Indian knows of white fashions 
 and usages. Besides, I am his debtor already, 
 seeing it is so little I have done since I have lived 
 in his tribe. The rifle might bring the value of 
 such a thing — but then I know it will give the boy 
 pleasure to hang the piece in his hall, for many 
 is the deer and the bird that he has seen it de- 
 stroy. No, no, the gun must be sent to him whose 
 name is graven on the lock!” 
 
 “ But there is one who would gladly prove his 
 affection in the way you wish ; he who owes you 
 not only his own deliverance from so many dan- 
 gers, but who inherits a heavy debt of gratitude 
 from his ancestors. The stone shall be put at the 
 head of your grave.” 
 
 The old man extended his emaciated hand, 
 and gave the other a squeeze of thanks. 
 
 “ I thought you might be willing to do it, but 
 I was backward in asking the favor,” he said, 
 “seeing that you are not of my kin. Put no 
 boastful words on the same, but just the name, 
 the age, and the time of the death, with some- 
 thing from the holy book ; no more, no more. 
 My name will then not be altogether lost on ’arth; 
 I need no more.” 
 
 Middleton intimated his assent, and then fol- 
 lowed a pause that was only broken by distant 
 and broken sentences from the dying man. He 
 appeared now to have closed his accounts with 
 the world, and to await merely for the final sum- 
 mons to quit it. Middleton and Hard-Heart 
 placed themselves on the opposite sides of his 
 seat, and watched with melancholy solicitude the 
 variations of his countenance. For two hours 
 there was no very sensible alteration. The ex- 
 
 pression of his faded and time-worn features was 
 that ol a calm and dignified repose. From time to 
 time he spoke, uttering some brief sentence in the 
 way of advice, or asking some simple questions 
 concerning those in whose fortunes he still took 
 a friendly interest. During the whole of that 
 solemn and anxious period each individual of the 
 tribe kept his place, in the most self-restrained 
 patience. When the old man spoke, all bent 
 their heads to listen ; and when his words were 
 uttered, they seemed to ponder on their wisdom 
 and usefulness. 
 
 As the flame drew nigher to the socket his 
 voice was hushed, and there were moments when 
 his attendants doubted whether he still belonged 
 to the living. Middleton, who watched each wa- 
 vering expression of his weather-beaten visage with 
 the interest of a keen observer of human nature, 
 softened by the tenderness of personal regard, 
 fancied he could read the workings of the old 
 man’s soul in the strong lineaments of his coun- 
 tenance. Perhaps what the enlightened soldier 
 took for the delusion of mistaken opinion did 
 actually occur — for who has returned from that 
 unknown world to explain by what forms, and in 
 what manner, he Was introduced into its awful 
 precincts ? Without pretending to explain what 
 must ever be a mystery to the quick, we shall 
 simply relate facts as they occurred. 
 
 The trapper had remained nearly motionless 
 for an hour. His eyes alone had occasionally 
 opened and shut. When opened, his gaze seemed 
 fastened on the clouds which hung around the 
 western horizon, reflecting the bright colors, and 
 giving form and loveliness to the glorious tints of 
 an American sunset. The hour — the calm beauty 
 of the season — the occasion — all conspired to fill 
 the spectators with solemn awe. Suddenly, while 
 musing on the remarkable position in which he 
 was placed, Middleton felt the hand which he 
 held grasp his own with incredible power, and the 
 old man, supported on either side by his friends, 
 rose upright to his feet. For a moment he looked 
 about him, as if to invite all in presence to listen 
 (the lingering remnant of human frailty), and 
 then, with a fine military elevation of the head, 
 and with a voice that might be heard in every 
 part of that numerous assembly, he pronounced 
 the word — 
 
 “ Here ! ” 
 
 A movement so entirely unexpected, and tho 
 air of grandeur and humility which were so re- 
 markably united in the mien of the trapper, to- 
 gether with the clear and uncommon force of his 
 utterance, produced a short period of confusion 
 in the faculties of all present. When Middleton 
 
THE CLOSING SCENE. 
 
 tod Hard-Heart, each of whom had involuntarily 
 extended a hand to support the form of the old 
 man, turned to him again, they found that the 
 subject of their interest was removed forever 
 beyond the necessity of their care. They mourn- 
 fully placed the body in its seat, and Le Balafrd 
 arose to announce the termination of the scene 
 to the tribe. The voice of the old Indian seemed 
 a sort of echo from that invisible world to which 
 the meek spirit of the trapper had just de- 
 parted. 
 
 “ A valiant, a just, and a wise warrior, has 
 gone on the path which will lead him to the 
 blessed grounds of his people ! ” he said. “ When 
 
 189 
 
 the voice of the Wahcondah called him, he was 
 ready to answer. Go, my children ; remember 
 the just chief of the pale-faces, and clear your 
 own tracks from briers ! ” 
 
 The grave was made beneath the shade of 
 some noble oaks. It has been carefuly watched 
 to the present hour by the Pawnees of the Loups 
 and is often shown to the traveller and the trader 
 as a spot where a just white man sleeps. In due 
 time the stone was placed at its head, with the 
 simple inscription which the trapper had himself 
 requested. The only liberty taken by Middleton 
 was to add — “ May no wanton hand ever disturb 
 his remains ! ” 
 

 
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“ The enduring monuments of Fenimore Cooper are Ms works. While the 
 love of country continues to prevail , his memory will exist in the hearts of the 
 people. So truly patriotic and American throughout , they should fnd a place 
 in every American's library — Daniel Webstek. 
 
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 1. The Spy. 
 
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