<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"></SPAN></p>
<h2> Chapter VII. </h2>
<p>"Clear, placid Leman I Thy contrasted lake<br/>
With the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing<br/>
Which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake<br/>
Earth's troubled waters for a purer spring.<br/>
This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing<br/>
To waft me from distraction; once I loved<br/>
Torn ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring<br/>
Sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved,<br/>
That I with stern delights should e'er have been so moved."<br/>
<br/>
BYRON.<br/></p>
<p>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
ascertaining 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 very much needed at that particular 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 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 worst. The third canoe had taken
the same direction, and was slowly drifting towards 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 the 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.</p>
<p>As a matter of course, Deerslayer's attention was first given to the canoe
ahead. It was already 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 than certain.
Feeling the impossibility 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
towards the point, taking care to make a little circuit, that he might be
exposed on only one side, as he approached.</p>
<p>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 moment, 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 to 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 utmost caution in
approaching the shore became indispensable; if no one was in ambush, hurry
was unnecessary. The point being nearly diagonally 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
would pass unseen; 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 Deerslayer drew nearer and nearer to the land, the stroke of his paddle
grew slower, his eye became more watchful, and his ears and nostrils
almost dilated with the effort to detect any lurking danger. It was a
trying moment for a novice, nor was there the encouragement which even the
timid sometimes feel, when conscious of being observed 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 career in forest
exploits, that afterwards 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.</p>
<p>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 towards 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 meantime 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 carry it beyond danger, before he would be
exposed to another shot. Under the circumstances, therefore, he did not
pause an instant, but dashed into the woods and sought a cover.</p>
<p>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 vegetation 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
mountainside. The trees were tall, large, and so free from underbrush,
that they resembled vast columns, irregularly scattered, upholding a dome
of leaves. Although 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.</p>
<p>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 unprepared
foe; but every feeling of Deerslayer revolted at such a step, although his
own life had just been attempted from a cover. He was yet unpracticed in
the ruthless expedients of savage warfare, of which he knew nothing except
by tradition and theory, and it struck him as unfair advantage to assail
an unarmed foe. His color had heightened, his eye frowned, his lips were
compressed, and all his energies were collected 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—</p>
<p>"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!"</p>
<p>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 apprehension
was, that the canoe would be recovered 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 by nature
that the line of sight was not interrupted, except by the particular trees
behind which each party stood.</p>
<p>His rifle was no sooner loaded, than the savage glanced around him, and
advanced incautiously as regarded the real, but stealthily as respected
the fancied position of his enemy, until he was fairly exposed. Then
Deerslayer stepped from behind its own cover, and hailed him.</p>
<p>"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 human mortals, singly, in the woods."</p>
<p>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-possession of one accustomed to consider no man his
superior. In the midst of this consummate acting, however, the volcano
that raged within caused his eyes to glare, and his nostrils to dilate,
like those of some wild beast that is suddenly prevented from taking the
fatal leap.</p>
<p>"Two canoes," he said, in the deep guttural tones of his race, holding up
the number of fingers he mentioned, by way of preventing mistakes; "one
for you—one for me."</p>
<p>"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 creatur'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."</p>
<p>"Good!" exclaimed the Indian; "my brother missionary—great talk; all
about Manitou."</p>
<p>"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 of a miserable canoe."</p>
<p>"Good! My brother very young—but he is very wise. Little warrior—great
talker. Chief, sometimes, in council."</p>
<p>"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 occasion, 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."</p>
<p>"Good! My brother has two scalp—gray hair under 'other. Old wisdom—young
tongue."</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>"That's just, red-skin; thought 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' altogether to mine."</p>
<p>The Indian uttered his favorite exclamation of "Good!" and then they
walked side by side, towards the shore. There was no apparent distrust in
the manner of either, the Indian moving in advance, as if he wished to
show his companion that he did not fear turning his back to him. As they
reached the open ground, the former pointed towards Deerslayer's boat, and
said emphatically—"No mine—pale-face canoe. This red man's. No
want other man's canoe—want his own."</p>
<p>"You're wrong, red-skin, you're altogether wrong. This canoe was left in
old Hutter's keeping, and is his'n according to law, red or white, till
its owner comes to claim it. Here's the seats and the stitching of the
bark to speak for themselves. No man ever know'd an Injin to turn off such
work."</p>
<p>"Good! My brother little old—big wisdom. Injin no make him. White
man's work."</p>
<p>"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 of dispute at once, as the
quickest way of settling difficulties."</p>
<p>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 current, it would necessarily float
past the point, and be in no further danger of coming ashore. The savage
started at this ready and decided expedient, 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 Iroquois resumed his air of friendliness, and a smile of satisfaction.</p>
<p>"Good!" he repeated, with stronger emphasis than ever. "Young head, old
mind. Know how to settle quarrel. Farewell, brother. He go to house in
water—muskrat house—Injin go to camp; tell chiefs no find
canoe."</p>
<p>Deerslayer was not sorry to hear this proposal, 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 towards the wood, with the rifle in the hollow of his arm, without
once looking back in uneasiness or distrust, the white man moved towards
the remaining canoe, carrying his piece in the same pacific manner, it is
true, but keeping his eye fastened on the movements 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 departing. He might have been thus
employed a minute, when, happening to turn his face towards 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.</p>
<p>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 single motion: then aiming almost without
sighting, he fired into the bushes where he knew a body ought to be, in
order to sustain the appalling countenance which alone was visible. There
was not time to raise the piece any higher, or to take a more deliberate
aim. So rapid were his movements that both parties discharged their pieces
at the same instant, the concussions mingling 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 unsteady 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.</p>
<p>"I know'd it—I know'd it!" exclaimed Deerslayer, 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 creatur'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."</p>
<p>By this time the piece was reloaded, and Deerslayer, after tossing the
tomahawk into the canoe, advanced to his victim, and stood over him,
leaning 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 consciousness, 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 his thoughts; and he found a melancholy
satisfaction in relieving the apprehensions of the helpless savage.</p>
<p>"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 sartain
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."</p>
<p>The close of this was said in a sort of a soliloquy, 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, Deerslayer then returned and stood over the Indian again.</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>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 expressed in the eyes of the
dying savage, without in the least detecting the bitter sarcasm that
struggled with the better feeling.</p>
<p>"Water!" ejaculated the thirsty and unfortunate creature; "give poor Injin
water."</p>
<p>"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."</p>
<p>So saying, Deerslayer raised the Indian in his arms, 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 endeavored to
soothe his anguish in the best manner he could.</p>
<p>"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 middle 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."</p>
<p>"Good!" ejaculated the Indian, whose voice retained its depth even as life
ebbed away; "young head—old wisdom!"</p>
<p>"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 trouble you, or what
ought to give you satisfaction in so trying a moment."</p>
<p>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 applause 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 witness his
stoicism, under extreme bodily suffering, and the firmness with which he
met his end. With the high innate courtesy that so often distinguishes 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 appreciated.</p>
<p>"Good!" he repeated, for this was an English 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?"</p>
<p>"Deerslayer is the name I bear now, though the Delawares have said that
when I get back from this war-path, I shall have a more manly title,
provided I can 'arn one."</p>
<p>"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—finger lightning—aim, death—great warrior soon.
No Deerslayer—Hawkeye—Hawkeye—Hawkeye. Shake hand."</p>
<p>Deerslayer—or Hawkeye, as the youth was then first named, for in
after years he bore the appellation throughout all that region—Deerslayer
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 concession at
such a moment.</p>
<p>"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 is
happiest, let his skin be 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
already flying towards 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."</p>
<p>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 or 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 utterance
to his thoughts and feelings aloud.</p>
<p>"I didn't wish your life, red-skin," he said "but you left me no choice
atween killing or being 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 oversightful, 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 born, 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 happened; 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 I know that he was a just Injin; and that he has not been taken
away suddenly to anything but happy hunting-grounds. When it's onsartain
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 discredited the
Delawares, or my training!"</p>
<p>Part of this was uttered aloud, while part was merely muttered between the
speaker's teeth; his more confident opinions enjoying the first advantage,
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 mountainside. 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.</p>
<p>As soon as Deerslayer believed himself to be at a safe distance he ceased
his efforts, permitting 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 towards it on quitting the land.
The dead Indian lay in grim quiet where he had left him, the warrior 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 Creator. 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 immediately 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
lamentation 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 distance at which the
canoes lay probably prevented any attempts to injure the conqueror, the
American 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.</p>
<p>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 floating up the lake. The eye of Deerslayer was no
sooner 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 gentle current of air. He began to suspect the influence of some
unseen current in the water, and he quickened his exertions, in order to
regain possession of it before it could drift into a dangerous proximity
to the woods. On getting nearer, he thought that the canoe had a
perceptible motion through the water, and, as it lay broadside to the air,
that this motion was taking it towards the land. A few vigorous strokes of
the paddle carried 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
propelling it slowly but certainly to the shore, using his hand as a
paddle. Deerslayer understood 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.</p>
<p>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.</p>
<p>"If you've enj'yed yourself enough in that canoe, red-skin," Deerslayer
coolly observed, stopping 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."</p>
<p>The savage was one of those who did not understand a word of English, and
he was indebted 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
messenger 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 practice, Deerslayer did not fail to soliloquize on what
had just occurred, while steadily pursuing his course towards the point of
destination.</p>
<p>"Well, well,"—he commenced,—"'twould have 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 marcilessly by them that have white
gifts. The savage 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 fairly 'arned. If 't was
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 't isn't easy to see how the matter can be known unless I do.
Well, well,—everything is in the hands of Providence; this affair as
well as another; I'll trust to that for getting my desarts in all things."</p>
<p>Having thus betrayed what might be termed his weak spot, the young man
continued to paddle in silence, making his way diligently, and as fast as
his tows would allow him, towards the castle. 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 unaccustomed 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 security, the rude, massive logs, covered with
their rough bark, the projecting roof, and the form, would contribute to
render the building picturesque in almost any situation, while its actual
position added novelty and piquancy to its other points of interest.</p>
<p>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 stood on the platform before the door, Hurry's
dooryard 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 spyglass 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 distinction 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.</p>
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