Chapter: "The winde is great 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."

    Thomas Churchyard, "Shore's Wife," xlvii.

The meeting between Deerslayer and his friends in the Ark was grave and
anxious. The two Indians, in particular, read in his manner that he was
not a successful fugitive, and a few sententious 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 manner 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
observer 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 account of the fact that all the canoes were again
in the possession of their proper owners, but principally, 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 indisposed them to further exertions for the moment.
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 anticipate 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 themselves in their several peculiar manners, haste in council,
or in decision, no more characterizing the proceedings of these 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
himself in gloomy thought, while Deerslayer proceeded, 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 work shops of some manufacturer
of a superior 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 situation of the man.

"'Tis a glorious we'pon, Hurry!" Deerslayer at length exclaimed, "and it
may be 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 has'n'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 character, though he wasn't the
man to particularize the ra'al natur' of any sort of fire arms, in
practise," returned March, passing the deer's thongs through the
moccasin with the coolness of a cobbler. "He was no marksman, 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?--Would 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 man's
hands, than would fall in a week in your'n, Hurry! I've seen you try;
yes, 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 skeared, 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, and 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 betray 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, Deerslayer, 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 knows that the credit of her father's rifle is
safer in my hands, than it can possibly be in yourn; and, therefore,
you mustn't be down hearted. In other matters, more to your liking, too,
you'll find she'll give you the preference."

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, and 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 platform to hear the expected intelligence from
Deerslayer on the subject of his visit. It had been evident he was in
no haste to make his communication, but the feelings of Judith would no
longer admit of delay. Stools were brought from the Ark and the hut,
and the whole six placed 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 star-light night. Along the shores, 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, Deerslayer, 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 of 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 vartue of a
pledge lies in the idee, and not in 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 journey 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 oncommon 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 Mingos held a council, and bitter thoughts were
uppermost, as was plain 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 low, 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 Mingos; that their worst mimics must allow--but they consaited I
was such a man; and it isn't often--" added the hunter, with a pleasing
consciousness that his previous life justified this implicit 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 account 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 end. They hold that all on the lake lies
at their marcy, and, therefore, they send by me this belt of wampum,"
showing the article in question to the Delaware, as he spoke, "with
these words. 'Tell the Sarpent, they say, that he has done well for a
beginner; 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, for 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 welcome to lead out a party in pursuit. Hist, howsever, must go
back to the Hurons, for, when she left there 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 remonstrance cannot be known,
inasmuch as Hist, partly laughing and partly hiding her face in shame,
passed 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 warrior not to find as many
wives as he wants, but 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 colour 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 called your father, has dove to the bottom of the
lake; that 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, and they wish you to come and try them.
Your colour 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, she
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 everything of a female 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, howsever, 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 consideration, and I should like, right well, to hear your idees
of the reasonableness of the reply. For my part, 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 that 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 manner, 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 hazard the safety of his own person unless he could see a direct
connection between the probable consequences and his own interests.
It is no wonder, therefore, that his answer partook equally of his
intention, and of the reliance he so boastingly placed on his gigantic
strength, which if it did not always make him outrageous, 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 savages to us Christians, you may tell your empl'yers that they
do 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 company 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," returned the girl with spirit.

"That p'int's settled, then," resumed Deerslayer, unmoved by the other's
warmth. "Hurry Harry must act for himself, and do that which will be
most likely to suit his own fancy. The 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 Mingos 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 delivered 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 martin 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 flourish
on the hill; the tamarack is healthiest 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
towards 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 owned 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 message, which was given
with an earnestness suited to the feelings from which it sprung, with
undisguised delight, meeting the ardent eloquence of the girl, as she
concluded, with one of his own heartfelt, silent, and peculiar fits of
laughter.

"That's worth all the wampum in the woods!" he exclaimed. "You don't
understand it, I suppose, Judith, but if you'll look into your feelin'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 comm' 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 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 colour goes, Hetty ought to be called
the Honeysuckle."

"Did this language come from one of the garrison gallants, I should
deride it, Deerslayer, but coming from you, I know it can be depended
on," returned Judith, deeply gratified by his unmeditated 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, seeing that truth is
truth, and I'm bound to tell these Mingos the fact and nothing else. So,
Chingachgook, let us hear your mind on this matter--are you inclined
to strike across the hills towards 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?"

Like his betrothed, the young chief arose, that his answer might be
given with due distinctness 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,"
he said; "a message must be answered by a message. Hear what the Great
Serpent of the Delawares 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 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 business of the Hurons. He tells it to her who most
likes to know it; he will not bellow it in the forest, for the ears of
those that only understand yells of terror. What passes in his lodge
is not for the chiefs of his own 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 of all to 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
desarve 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
Delaware 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 run-a-way trail; unless they hide it under ground, he will
follow it to Canada alone. He will keep Wah-ta-Wah with him to cook his
game; they two will be Delawares enough to scare all the Hurons back to
their own country."

"That's a grand despatch, as the officers call them things!"
cried Deerslayer; "'twill set all the Huron blood in motion; most
particularily that part where he tells 'em Hist, too, will keep on their
heels 'til they're fairly driven out of the country. Ahs! me; big words
ain'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 Hurons as faithfully
as if it was spoken by a schoolmaster, or a missionary."

The girl hesitated a moment, and then she answered 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.
Father 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
profound 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 answers
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 consequences 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."

"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 frontierman took his departure, the different individuals
occupied themselves in their customary modes, the hunter, in particular,
passing most of the time in making further enquiries into the perfection
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 sullenly and in coldness. Resentment at what he
considered Judith's obstinacy was blended with mortification at the
career he had since reaching 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 overcame her timidity, and Hetty spoke.

"Goodbye Hurry--" she called out, in her sweet voice--"goodbye, dear
Hurry. Take care of yourself in the woods, and don't stop once, 'til you
reach the garrison. The leaves on the trees are scarcely plentier than
the Hurons round the lake, and they'll not treat a strong man like you
as kindly as they treat me."

The ascendency which March had obtained over this feebleminded, 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 him had never been sufficiently intimate to
counteract an effect that must have been otherwise lessened, even with
one whose mind was as obtuse 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 thousand points, had there
been opportunities to enlighten 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
imagination and naturally tender feelings, without suffering 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
unfavorably 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 portray it, but merely that awakening sensibility and
admiration, which, under more propitious circumstances, and always
supposing no untoward revelations 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 passion. 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 instance in which the
dull mind of the girl had been quickened into an observation of the
circumstances.

Hurry received so little sympathy at his departure 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 her hero, expected, and she now shrunk timidly back at
this unexpected 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 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 ag'in, Hetty, you'll 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 Hutter, at the bottom, was a good fellow, and will maintain
that ag'in all inimies for his sake, as well as for your'n."

"Goodbye, Hurry," said Hetty, who now wanted 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; "goodbye, Hurry; take care of yourself in the woods;
don't halt 'til 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 re-entered the
canoe. In another minute the two adventurers 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 likely 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 swiftly as two
vigorous and skilful canoemen could force their little vessel through,
or rather over, the water. Less than a quarter of an hour sufficed 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 efforts
in order to make their parting communications out of earshot 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 vagabonds as soon as you git in, Hurry," Deerslayer
commenced; "and you'll do better if you volunteer 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'ralizing scout.
Strike at the Huron camp first, and follow the signs that will then show
themselves. 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-morrow'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 enquired 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, Henry March! The clouds look
black and threatening, and I keep my mind in a state to meet the worst.
Vengeful feelin's are uppermost in the hearts of the Mingos, and any
little disapp'intment 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, and then you wouldn't have found
yourself, at the last moment, in the desperate condition 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 of that young
woman, too, was on-called for, Henry March, and leaves a heavy load on
our names if not on our consciences!"

This was so apparent, and it seemed so obvious to Hurry himself, at the
moment, that he dashed his paddle into the water, and began to urge the
canoe towards the shore, as if bent only on running away from his own
lively remorse. His companion humoured 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 instant, and with a growling
adieu, he had already commenced his march, when a sudden twinge of
feeling brought him to a dead stop, and immediately 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!"

"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 in on a furlough afore noon to-morrow!"

"What's an Injin, or a word passed, or a furlough taken from creatur's
like them, that have neither souls, nor reason!"

"If they've got neither souls nor reason, you and I have both, Henry
March, and one is accountable for the other. This furlough is not, as
you seem to think, a matter altogether atween me and the Mingos, 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 uttered in the forest, and into red men's ears,
knows little of his situation, and hopes, and wants. The woods are but
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 accordin' to the cravings of the spirit."

March was now glad again to escape. It was quite impossible that he
could enter into the sentiments that ennobled his companion, and he
broke away from both with an impatience that caused him secretly to
curse the folly that could induce a man to rush, as it were, on his own
destruction. Deerslayer, on the contrary, manifested no such excitement.
Sustained by his principles, inflexible in the purpose of acting up to
them, and superior to any unmanly apprehension, he regarded all before
him as a matter of course, and no more thought of making any unworthy
attempt to avoid it, than a Mussulman thinks of counteracting the
decrees of Providence. 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 presented by
the star-lit 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 a summer's noon-tide, it was now sad and
melancholy under the shadows of night. The mountains rose around it like
black barriers to exclude the outer 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 towards the Ark and the castle.




    "Thy secret pleasure turns to open shame;
    Thy private feasting to a public fast;
    Thy smoothing titles to a ragged name;
    Thy sugar'd tongue to bitter worm wood taste:
    Thy violent vanities can never last."

    Shakespeare, Rape of Lucrece, 11.  890-94.

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 Delaware 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 material 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 fasten the canoe, and by aiding in the other little
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, making 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 obviate. Even all the padlocks were removed, and it only
remained to raise the heavy lid, again, to expose all the treasures of
this long secreted hoard.

"I see, in part, what all this means," observed 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, huskily. "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 compass enough for that, Judith?" demanded the
just-minded young man. "It's a good rule and a righteous one, never to
take when them that give don't know the valie of their gifts; and such
as God has visited heavily in their wits ought to be dealt with as
carefully 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
acquitted her of any unjust intentions towards 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 answered; "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 impatience, 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 indulgence 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 something 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 course canvass, 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 family, seeing
'tis neither more nor less than a sort of flag, though of what nation,
it passes my l'arnin' to say."

"That flag must have some meaning to it--" Judith hurriedly interposed.
"Open it wider, Deerslayer, that we may see the colours."

"Well, I pity the ensign that has to shoulder this cloth, and to parade
it about on the field. Why 'tis large enough, Judith, to make a dozen of
them colours the King's officers set so much store by. These can be no
ensign's colours, but a 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-ah-near! Not I--not I--I never heard him mentioned as good at a
buck far off, or near by. Hurry Harry did till 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."

"Anything 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 woman like her, should have chosen a man like
him, 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 f'ercest 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 looking bundle holds."

Deerslayer complied, and he found that it contained 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 manuscripts, memorandums, accounts, and other
similar documents. The hawk does not pounce upon the chicken with a more
sudden swoop than Judith sprang forward to seize this mine of hitherto
concealed knowledge. Her education, as the reader will have perceived,
was far superior to her situation in life, and her eye glanced over page
after 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 females, in innocence and affection, were of a
character 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 inteffigent 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 admonitions 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 commented on by the
mother. What rendered it singular 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
diligence 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 forgotten
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 over the first packet, but now she felt a
sentiment of indignation and pride better sustaining her. Her hand
shook, however, and cold shivers again passed through her frame, as she
discovered 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 served in no degree to
enlighten her companion, as he was totally unable to read. Nevertheless
he was not entirely at fault in discovering 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 conjectures, than the girl would have been pleased
at discovering.

Judith had commenced with the earliest letters, 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 revealed a sad history of gratified passion, coldness,
and finally of aversion. As she obtained the clue to their import, her
impatience would 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 these melancholy revelations
of her mother's failing 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
obliterated from the text of the letters, but stood as if nothing was to
be gained by erasing it. Hetty's birth was mentioned once, and in that
instance 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 correspondence 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
latest 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 wishing 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 history of the connection between the
ill-assorted pair far more plainly than Judith wished to learn it. Her
mother made the advances towards a marriage, to the surprise, not to
say horror of her daughter, and she actually found a relief when
she discovered traces of what struck her as insanity--or a morbid
desperation, bordering on that dire calamity--in the earlier letters of
that ill-fated woman. The answers of Hovey were coarse and illiterate,
though they manifested a sufficient desire to obtain 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 communications on business, in which
the miserable wife hastened the absent husband in his preparations 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 sincere expression had escaped her mother, by which Judith could get a
clue 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 the
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 ascendancy.

There what may be called the historical part of the papers ceased. Among
the loose fragments, however, was an old newspaper that contained
a proclamation offering a reward for the apprehension of certain
free-booters 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. Nothing 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 clue, 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 everything connected with the future. Her recollection of her
mother's manners, conversation, and sufferings filled up many a gap
in the historical facts she had now discovered, and the truth, in
its outlines, 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 examination 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 hours 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, especially young 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
examination of the chest. The search necessarily continued some time,
during which Judith collected her thoughts and regained her composure.
She took no part in the search, leaving everything 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 Deerslayer, notwithstanding, that some of these
things might be made useful in effecting a negotiation with the
Iroquois, though the latter saw a difficulty 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 gin'rous,--yes, 'tis downright free-hearted, and
free-handed, and gin'rous. 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 value in their eyes. However, 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 Mingos will be willing to receive 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 Mingos caculate! They say the chist is theirn, already; or,
as good as theirn, 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 possession 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 giving yourself up a prisoner, again, as you
now seem determined on."

"That Hurry Harry should talk in this-a-way, is nat'ral, 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 anything
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 Tamenund, and to Uncas, the father of the Sarpent, and to
my other fri'nds in the tribe, if I was so to disgrace myself on my very
first war-path. This you will pairceive, moreover, Judith, is without
laying any stress on nat'ral gifts, and a white man's duties, 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," returned the girl, after a little
reflection and in a saddened voice: "a man like you 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
anything for which you would be sorry hereafter, my own regret would not
be less than yours. You shall not have it to say, Judith--I 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 Thomas
Hutter again; nor, with my consent, shall Hetty! Hutter was not even 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 heaven; though I may have no reason
to be proud of him that was!"

"This is strange!" said Deerslayer, looking steadily at the excited
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 anything whispered against the former life of this
person, Deerslayer?" 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 prefar to see and judge for myself, instead
of letting every jaw that chooses to wag become my judgment. Hurry Harry
spoke pretty plainly of the whole family, as we journeyed this-a-way,
and he did hint something consarning 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 towards her companion,
pointing to the proclamation of a Colonial Governor, 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 edication 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 Judith, earnestly, more abashed
than was her wont, in finding that she had in advertently made an appeal
that might wound her compan ion'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 warrior,
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'a'n, if he's got 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 unl'arned 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'n may sarve you just as good a turn."

"I do not know it. I've look'd through those papers, Deerslayer, in the
hope of finding some hint by which I might discover who my mother 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 poorly 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 humouredly,
"onless 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 conversation 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 hopelessness of a future that
seemed to contain no resting place, and still more influenced by
feelings 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, Deerslayer," she said, "and 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, oncommon as you
be in this particular, them that knows the family won't be altogether
surprised."

"This is not talking as becomes either of us, Deerslayer, for whatever
is said on such a subject, between man and woman, should be said
seriously 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, Deerslayer, 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 woman like you, that is handsome enough to be a captain's
lady, and fine enough, and so far as I know edicated 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 satisfaction in passing their jokes ag'in them that's neither,
like a poor Delaware hunter."

This was said good naturedly, but not without a betrayal of feeling
which showed that something 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
cloaking all under a guise so winning and natural, as greatly to lessen
the unpleasant feature of a forwardness unbecoming the sex.

"You do me injustice if you suppose I have any such thought, or wish,"
she answered, earnestly. "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."

"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 indirectly 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
appearance; "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 colour, 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 is 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 feel a little
for others, as well as for themselves. A true-hearted girl could die for
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 temperament, 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 absorbed by it for more than a minute, totally
regardless of the beautiful reality that was seated before him, watching
the expression of his upright and truth-telling countenance with a
keenness that gave her a very fair, if not an absolutely accurate clue
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 possessed of so much true poetical feeling in
connection with natural objects in particular, he soon recovered his
reason, and smiled at his own weakness, as the fancied picture faded
from his 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, become 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, hereaway, wouldn't be so hard upon
him."

"No--no--Judith without a name would never consent to be called Judith
March! Anything would be better than that."

"Judith Bumppo wouldn't sound as well, gal; and there's many names that
would fall short of March, in pleasing the ear."

"Ah! Deerslayer, the pleasantness of the sound, in such cases, doesn't
come through the ear, but through the heart. Everything 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 horrible!"

"That's just it--yes, that's the reason of the matter. Now, I'm
nat'rally avarse to sarpents, and I hate even the word, which, the
missionaries tell me, comes from human natur', on account of a sartain
sarpent at the creation of the 'arth, that outwitted the first woman;
yet, ever since Chingachgook has 'arned the title he bears, why 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."

"This is so true, Deerslayer, that I am surprised 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 advantage. To me, looks in a man is 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 forget 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 sartainty, 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 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
particularly grateful to her imagination, though experience and
disappointment had not only chilled all her affections, but given them a
backward current, and the passing image had a momentary influence on her
feelings; but the mounting colour was succeeded by a paleness so deadly,
as to make her appear ghastly.

"As God is my judge," the girl solemnly answered, "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 onworthiness, Judith! Howsever, you hardly think all that
you say. A man like me is too rude and ignorant 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 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 of people altogether 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 fanciful thing, since it's not
very likely that you, at least, would be apt 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 admit 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 invention 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
invention, and of the decision and boldness of her character. That the
conversation might not terminate too abruptly, however, or any suspicion
of her design exist, she answered the last remark of Deerslayer, 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, perhaps, 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 directly 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 che'rful. Above all, never
do anything 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 Sarpent, 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 better of difficulties, and that, as for
beauty, you're oncommon, which 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 but to comply.
The chest was closed and secured, and they parted in silence, she to
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 scarce 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.

 The mood is very glum when Deerslayer rejoins the group on the ark, and he delays explaining his mission until the end of the meal. Deerslayer receives a gift from Judith: Tom Hutter's gun, Killdeer. He explains the terms which the Mingos offer: Chingachgook can pass safely through the blockade to return to his tribe's territory; Hist must remain to accept a Mingo as her husband; and the two girls, though retaining their personal possessions, will live with the Mingos. Tom Hutter's valuables will go to the Mingos. The conditions are rejected by all the besieged refugees, as Deerslayer had hoped and expected. He has, however, performed his duty by delivering the message without attempting to prejudice anyone's individual decision. Angry and resentful because of his rejection by Judith, Hurry Harry feels no necessity to risk his own life in defense of the girls. He has offered to take Judith with him to safety, but she has refused to accompany him. Deerslayer rows in a canoe with Hurry Harry to the shore in the darkness, and the apparently final conversation between the two rivals shows again the wide divergence in their concept of life and duty. Deerslayer persuades Hurry Harry to go first to a nearby garrison so that the girls may be rescued before any Mingo assault on the ark. Deerslayer, sure that his own doom is sealed, rows back alone to the ark, sad and pensive. Judith has been waiting for Deerslayer to return because she wants to examine all the contents of the chest while the others are asleep. Although Deerslayer is reluctant to open the chest, he finally consents to help Judith. She finds in the chest almost a hundred letters and reads them for more than an hour. Some of Judith's questions about Tom Hutter's and her own past are revealed by the letters. Judith's mother had married Floating Tom after being rejected by her lover -- the girls' father -- and her life had been one of continual misfortune and sadness. Tom Hutter's real name was Thomas Hovey, and a copy of the proclamation for his arrest proves that he was a pirate. The names of Judith's mother and father remain a mystery. After the investigation of the chest, Deerslayer and Judith converse about their respective futures. Judith, for all practical purposes, proposes to Deerslayer. His first refusal is based on his code: She could never truly love and respect a man who showed his dishonesty by violating the terms of the furlough. When this argument fails to dissuade Judith, Deerslayer refers to their different stations in life: He is unable to read, and she is educated above the usual level of pioneer women; he dislikes the civilized settlements, and she enjoys the social activities of populated places; he is plain, and she is very beautiful. Parrying his responses, Judith insists that the reasons given by Deerslayer are exactly the qualities that attract her and would attract any reasonable girl. Deerslayer, as Judith concludes, would be a faithful and loving husband, the ideal of any girl. The "imagination" and the "reason," as Deerslayer characterizes his dilemma, struggle in his mind, and he momentarily weakens, thinking of the happy life he might have with Judith as his wife. But he poses one telling question: If a possible rival, elegantly dressed and very cultured, stood next to him, would not Judith, because of her inclinations, training, and experience, select the newcomer as her mate? Defeated by Deerslayer's obvious reference to her past attachments with officers of the nearby garrison, Judith abandons the discussion. She has not surrendered, however, and she remains awake thinking of a bold, new plan to win Deerslayer.

