<p><SPAN name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"></SPAN></p>
<h2> Chapter X. </h2>
<p>"But who in this wild wood<br/>
May credit give to either eye, or ear?<br/>
From rocky precipice or hollow cave,<br/>
'Midst the confused sound of rustling leaves,<br/>
And creaking boughs, and cries of nightly birds,<br/>
Returning seeming answer!"<br/>
<br/>
Joanna Baihie, "Rayner: A Tragedy," II.L3-4, 6-g.<br/></p>
<p>Fear, as much as calculation, had induced Hetty to cease paddling, when
she found that her pursuers did not know in which direction to proceed.
She remained stationary until the Ark had pulled in near the encampment,
as has been related in the preceding chapter, when she resumed the paddle
and with cautious strokes made the best of her way towards the western
shore. In order to avoid her pursuers, however, who, she rightly
suspected, would soon be rowing along that shore themselves, the head of
the canoe was pointed so far north as to bring her to land on a point that
thrust itself into the lake, at the distance of near a league from the
outlet. Nor was this altogether the result of a desire to escape, for,
feeble minded as she was, Hetty Hutter had a good deal of that instinctive
caution which so often keeps those whom God has thus visited from harm.
She was perfectly aware of the importance of keeping the canoes from
falling into the hands of the Iroquois, and long familiarity with the lake
had suggested one of the simplest expedients, by which this great object
could be rendered compatible with her own purpose.</p>
<p>The point in question was the first projection that offered on that side
of the lake, where a canoe, if set adrift with a southerly air would float
clear of the land, and where it would be no great violation of
probabilities to suppose it might even hit the castle; the latter lying
above it, almost in a direct line with the wind. Such then was Hetty's
intention, and she landed on the extremity of the gravelly point, beneath
an overhanging oak, with the express intention of shoving the canoe off
from the shore, in order that it might drift up towards her father's
insulated abode. She knew, too, from the logs that occasionally floated
about the lake, that did it miss the castle and its appendages the wind
would be likely to change before the canoe could reach the northern
extremity of the lake, and that Deerslayer might have an opportunity of
regaining it in the morning, when no doubt he would be earnestly sweeping
the surface of the water, and the whole of its wooded shores, with glass.
In all this, too, Hetty was less governed by any chain of reasoning than
by her habits, the latter often supplying the place of mind, in human
beings, as they perform the same for animals of the inferior classes.</p>
<p>The girl was quite an hour finding her way to the point, the distance and
the obscurity equally detaining her, but she was no sooner on the gravelly
beach than she prepared to set the canoe adrift, in the manner mentioned.
While in the act of pushing it from her, she heard low voices that seemed
to come among the trees behind her. Startled at this unexpected danger
Hetty was on the point of springing into the canoe in order to seek safety
in flight, when she thought she recognized the tones of Judith's melodious
voice. Bending forward so as to catch the sounds more directly, they
evidently came from the water, and then she understood that the Ark was
approaching from the south, and so close in with the western shore, as
necessarily to cause it to pass the point within twenty yards of the spot
where she stood. Here, then, was all she could desire; the canoe was
shoved off into the lake, leaving its late occupant alone on the narrow
strand.</p>
<p>When this act of self-devotion was performed, Hetty did not retire. The
foliage of the overhanging trees and bushes would have almost concealed
her person, had there been light, but in that obscurity it was utterly
impossible to discover any object thus shaded, at the distance of a few
feet. Flight, too, was perfectly easy, as twenty steps would effectually
bury her in the forest. She remained, therefore, watching with intense
anxiety the result of her expedient, intending to call the attention of
the others to the canoe with her voice, should they appear to pass without
observing it. The Ark approached under its sail, again, Deerslayer
standing in its bow, with Judith near him, and the Delaware at the helm.
It would seem that in the bay below it had got too close to the shore, in
the lingering hope of intercepting Hetty, for, as it came nearer, the
latter distinctly heard the directions that the young man forward gave to
his companion aft, in order to clear the point.</p>
<p>"Lay her head more off the shore, Delaware," said Deerslayer for the third
time, speaking in English that his fair companion might understand his
words—"Lay her head well off shore. We have got embayed here, and
needs keep the mast clear of the trees. Judith, there's a canoe!"</p>
<p>The last words were uttered with great earnestness, and Deerslayer's hand
was on his rifle ere they were fairly out of his mouth. But the truth
flashed on the mind of the quick-witted girl, and she instantly told her
companion that the boat must be that in which her sister had fled.</p>
<p>"Keep the scow straight, Delaware; steer as straight as your bullet flies
when sent ag'in a buck; there—I have it."</p>
<p>The canoe was seized, and immediately secured again to the side of the
Ark. At the next moment the sail was lowered, and the motion of the Ark
arrested by means of the oars.</p>
<p>"Hetty!" called out Judith, concern, even affection betraying itself in
her tones. "Are you within hearing, sister—for God's sake answer,
and let me hear the sound of your voice, again! Hetty!—dear Hetty."</p>
<p>"I'm here, Judith—here on the shore, where it will be useless to
follow me, as I will hide in the woods."</p>
<p>"Oh! Hetty what is't you do! Remember 'tis drawing near midnight, and that
the woods are filled with savages and wild beasts!"</p>
<p>"Neither will harm a poor half-witted girl, Judith. God is as much with
me, here, as he would be in the Ark or in the hut. I am going to help my
father, and poor Hurry Harry, who will be tortured and slain unless some
one cares for them."</p>
<p>"We all care for them, and intend to-morrow to send them a flag of truce,
to buy their ransom. Come back then, sister; trust to us, who have better
heads than you, and who will do all we can for father."</p>
<p>"I know your head is better than mine, Judith, for mine is very weak, to
be sure; but I must go to father and poor Hurry. Do you and Deerslayer
keep the castle, sister; leave me in the hands of God."</p>
<p>"God is with us all, Hetty—in the castle, or on the shore—father
as well as ourselves, and it is sinful not to trust to his goodness. You
can do nothing in the dark; will lose your way in the forest, and perish
for want of food."</p>
<p>"God will not let that happen to a poor child that goes to serve her
father, sister. I must try and find the savages."</p>
<p>"Come back for this night only; in the morning, we will put you ashore,
and leave you to do as you may think right."</p>
<p>"You say so, Judith, and you think so; but you would not. Your heart would
soften, and you'd see tomahawks and scalping knives in the air. Besides,
I've got a thing to tell the Indian chief that will answer all our wishes,
and I'm afraid I may forget it, if I don't tell it to him at once. You'll
see that he will let father go, as soon as he hears it!"</p>
<p>"Poor Hetty! What can you say to a ferocious savage that will be likely to
change his bloody purpose!"</p>
<p>"That which will frighten him, and make him let father go—" returned
the simple-minded girl, positively. "You'll see, sister; you'll see, how
soon it will bring him to, like a gentle child!"</p>
<p>"Will you tell me, Hetty, what you intend to say?" asked Deerslayer. "I
know the savages well, and can form some idee how far fair words will be
likely, or not, to work on their bloody natur's. If it's not suited to the
gifts of a red-skin, 'twill be of no use; for reason goes by gifts, as
well as conduct."</p>
<p>"Well, then," answered Hetty, dropping her voice to a low, confidential,
tone, for the stillness of the night, and the nearness of the Ark,
permitted her to do this and still to be heard—"Well, then,
Deerslayer, as you seem a good and honest young man I will tell you. I
mean not to say a word to any of the savages until I get face to face with
their head chief, let them plague me with as many questions as they please
I'll answer none of them, unless it be to tell them to lead me to their
wisest man—Then, Deerslayer, I'll tell him that God will not forgive
murder, and thefts; and that if father and Hurry did go after the scalps
of the Iroquois, he must return good for evil, for so the Bible commands,
else he will go into everlasting punishment. When he hears this, and feels
it to be true, as feel it he must, how long will it be before he sends
father, and Hurry, and me to the shore, opposite the castle, telling us
all three to go our way in peace?"</p>
<p>The last question was put in a triumphant manner, and then the
simple-minded girl laughed at the impression she never doubted that her
project had made on her auditors. Deerslayer was dumb-founded at this
proof of guileless feebleness of mind, but Judith had suddenly bethought
her of a means of counteracting this wild project, by acting on the very
feelings that had given it birth. Without adverting to the closing
question, or the laugh, therefore, she hurriedly called to her sister by
name, as one suddenly impressed with the importance of what she had to
say. But no answer was given to the call.</p>
<p>By the snapping of twigs, and the rustling of leaves, Hetty had evidently
quitted the shore, and was already burying herself in the forest. To
follow would have been fruitless, since the darkness, as well as the dense
cover that the woods everywhere offered, would have rendered her capture
next to impossible, and there was also the never ceasing danger of falling
into the hands of their enemies. After a short and melancholy discussion,
therefore, the sail was again set, and the Ark pursued its course towards
its habitual moorings, Deerslayer silently felicitating himself on the
recovery of the canoe, and brooding over his plans for the morrow. The
wind rose as the party quitted the point, and in less than an hour they
reached the castle. Here all was found as it had been left, and the
reverse of the ceremonies had to be taken in entering the building, that
had been used on quitting it. Judith occupied a solitary bed that night
bedewing the pillow with her tears, as she thought of the innocent and
hitherto neglected creature, who had been her companion from childhood,
and bitter regrets came over her mind, from more causes than one, as the
weary hours passed away, making it nearly morning before she lost her
recollection in sleep. Deerslayer and the Delaware took their rest in the
Ark, where we shall leave them enjoying the deep sleep of the honest, the
healthful and fearless, to return to the girl we have last seen in the
midst of the forest.</p>
<p>When Hetty left the shore, she took her way unhesitatingly into the woods,
with a nervous apprehension of being followed. Luckily, this course was
the best she could have hit on to effect her own purpose, since it was the
only one that led her from the point. The night was so intensely dark,
beneath the branches of the trees, that her progress was very slow, and
the direction she went altogether a matter of chance, after the first few
yards. The formation of the ground, however, did not permit her to deviate
far from the line in which she desired to proceed. On one hand it was soon
bounded by the acclivity of the hill, while the lake, on the other, served
as a guide. For two hours did this single-hearted and simple-minded girl
toil through the mazes of the forest, sometimes finding herself on the
brow of the bank that bounded the water, and at others struggling up an
ascent that warned her to go no farther in that direction, since it
necessarily ran at right angles to the course on which she wished to
proceed. Her feet often slid from beneath her, and she got many falls,
though none to do her injury; but, by the end of the period mentioned, she
had become so weary as to want strength to go any farther. Rest was
indispensable, and she set about preparing a bed, with the readiness and
coolness of one to whom the wilderness presented no unnecessary terrors.
She knew that wild beasts roamed through all the adjacent forest, but
animals that preyed on the human species were rare, and of dangerous
serpents there were literally none. These facts had been taught her by her
father, and whatever her feeble mind received at all, it received so
confidingly as to leave her no uneasiness from any doubts, or scepticism.
To her the sublimity of the solitude in which she was placed, was
soothing, rather than appalling, and she gathered a bed of leaves, with as
much indifference to the circumstances that would have driven the thoughts
of sleep entirely from the minds of most of her sex, as if she had been
preparing her place of nightly rest beneath the paternal roof. As soon as
Hetty had collected a sufficient number of the dried leaves to protect her
person from the damps of the ground, she kneeled beside the humble pile,
clasped her raised hands in an attitude of deep devotion, and in a soft,
low, but audible voice repeated the Lord's Prayer. This was followed by
those simple and devout verses, so familiar to children, in which she
recommended her soul to God, should it be called away to another state of
existence, ere the return of morning. This duty done, she lay down and
disposed herself to sleep. The attire of the girl, though suited to the
season, was sufficiently warm for all ordinary purposes, but the forest is
ever cool, and the nights of that elevated region of country, have always
a freshness about them, that renders clothing more necessary than is
commonly the case in the summers of a low latitude. This had been foreseen
by Hetty, who had brought with her a coarse heavy mantle, which, when laid
over her body, answered all the useful purposes of a blanket. Thus
protected, she dropped asleep in a few minutes, as tranquilly as if
watched over by the guardian care of that mother, who had so recently been
taken from her forever, affording in this particular a most striking
contrast between her own humble couch, and the sleepless pillow of her
sister.</p>
<p>Hour passed after hour, in a tranquility as undisturbed and a rest as
sweet as if angels, expressly commissioned for that object, watched around
the bed of Hetty Hutter. Not once did her soft eyes open, until the grey
of the dawn came struggling through the tops of the trees, falling on
their lids, and, united to the freshness of a summer's morning, giving the
usual summons to awake. Ordinarily, Hetty was up ere the rays of the sun
tipped the summits of the mountains, but on this occasion her fatigue had
been so great, and her rest was so profound, that the customary warnings
failed of their effect. The girl murmured in her sleep, threw an arm
forward, smiled as gently as an infant in its cradle, but still slumbered.
In making this unconscious gesture, her hand fell on some object that was
warm, and in the half unconscious state in which she lay, she connected
the circumstance with her habits. At the next moment, a rude attack was
made on her side, as if a rooting animal were thrusting its snout beneath,
with a desire to force her position, and then, uttering the name of
"Judith" she awoke. As the startled girl arose to a sitting attitude she
perceived that some dark object sprang from her, scattering the leaves and
snapping the fallen twigs in its haste. Opening her eyes, and recovering
from the first confusion and astonishment of her situation, Hetty
perceived a cub, of the common American brown bear, balancing itself on
its hinder legs, and still looking towards her, as if doubtful whether it
would be safe to trust itself near her person again. The first impulse of
Hetty, who had been mistress of several of these cubs, was to run and
seize the little creature as a prize, but a loud growl warned her of the
danger of such a procedure. Recoiling a few steps, the girl looked
hurriedly round, and perceived the dam, watching her movements with fiery
eyes at no great distance. A hollow tree, that once been the home of bees,
having recently fallen, the mother with two more cubs was feasting on the
dainty food that this accident had placed within her reach; while the
first kept a jealous eye on the situation of its truant and reckless
young.</p>
<p>It would exceed all the means of human knowledge to presume to analyze the
influences that govern the acts of the lower animals. On this occasion,
the dam, though proverbially fierce when its young is thought to be in
danger, manifested no intention to attack the girl. It quitted the honey,
and advanced to a place within twenty feet of her, where it raised itself
on its hind legs and balanced its body in a sort of angry, growling
discontent, but approached no nearer. Happily, Hetty did not fly. On the
contrary, though not without terror, she knelt with her face towards the
animal, and with clasped hands and uplifted eyes, repeated the prayer of
the previous night. This act of devotion was not the result of alarm, but
it was a duty she never neglected to perform ere she slept, and when the
return of consciousness awoke her to the business of the day. As the girl
arose from her knees, the bear dropped on its feet again, and collecting
its cubs around her, permitted them to draw their natural sustenance.
Hetty was delighted with this proof of tenderness in an animal that has
but a very indifferent reputation for the gentler feelings, and as a cub
would quit its mother to frisk and leap about in wantonness, she felt a
strong desire again to catch it up in her arms, and play with it. But
admonished by the growl, she had self-command sufficient not to put this
dangerous project in execution, and recollecting her errand among the
hills, she tore herself away from the group, and proceeded on her course
along the margin of the lake, of which she now caught glimpses again
through the trees. To her surprise, though not to her alarm, the family of
bears arose and followed her steps, keeping a short distance behind her;
apparently watching every movement as if they had a near interest in all
she did.</p>
<p>In this manner, escorted by the dam and cubs, the girl proceeded nearly a
mile, thrice the distance she had been able to achieve in the darkness,
during the same period of time. She then reached a brook that had dug a
channel for itself into the earth, and went brawling into the lake,
between steep and high banks, covered with trees. Here Hetty performed her
ablutions; then drinking of the pure mountain water, she went her way,
refreshed and lighter of heart, still attended by her singular companions.
Her course now lay along a broad and nearly level terrace, which stretched
from the top of the bank that bounded the water, to a low acclivity that
rose to a second and irregular platform above. This was at a part of the
valley where the mountains ran obliquely, forming the commencement of a
plain that spread between the hills, southward of the sheet of water.
Hetty knew, by this circumstance, that she was getting near to the
encampment, and had she not, the bears would have given her warning of the
vicinity of human beings. Snuffing the air, the dam refused to follow any
further, though the girl looked back and invited her to come by childish
signs, and even by direct appeals made in her own sweet voice. It was
while making her way slowly through some bushes, in this manner, with
averted face and eyes riveted on the immovable animals, that the girl
suddenly found her steps arrested by a human hand, that was laid lightly
on her shoulder.</p>
<p>"Where go?—" said a soft female voice, speaking hurriedly, and in
concern.—"Indian—red man savage—wicked warrior—that-a-way."</p>
<p>This unexpected salutation alarmed the girl no more than the presence of
the fierce inhabitants of the woods. It took her a little by surprise, it
is true, but she was in a measure prepared for some such meeting, and the
creature who stopped her was as little likely to excite terror as any who
ever appeared in the guise of an Indian. It was a girl, not much older
than herself, whose smile was sunny as Judith's in her brightest moments,
whose voice was melody itself, and whose accents and manner had all the
rebuked gentleness that characterizes the sex among a people who
habitually treat their women as the attendants and servitors of the
warriors. Beauty among the women of the aboriginal Americans, before they
have become exposed to the hardships of wives and mothers, is by no means
uncommon. In this particular, the original owners of the country were not
unlike their more civilized successors, nature appearing to have bestowed
that delicacy of mien and outline that forms so great a charm in the
youthful female, but of which they are so early deprived; and that, too,
as much by the habits of domestic life as from any other cause.</p>
<p>The girl who had so suddenly arrested the steps of Hetty was dressed in a
calico mantle that effectually protected all the upper part of her person,
while a short petticoat of blue cloth edged with gold lace, that fell no
lower than her knees, leggings of the same, and moccasins of deer-skin,
completed her attire. Her hair fell in long dark braids down her shoulders
and back, and was parted above a low smooth forehead, in a way to soften
the expression of eyes that were full of archness and natural feeling. Her
face was oval, with delicate features, the teeth were even and white,
while the mouth expressed a melancholy tenderness, as if it wore this
peculiar meaning in intuitive perception of the fate of a being who was
doomed from birth to endure a woman's sufferings, relieved by a woman's
affections. Her voice, as has been already intimated, was soft as the
sighing of the night air, a characteristic of the females of her race, but
which was so conspicuous in herself as to have produced for her the name
of Wah-ta-Wah; which rendered into English means Hist-oh-Hist.</p>
<p>In a word, this was the betrothed of Chingachgook, who—having
succeeded in lulling their suspicions, was permitted to wander around the
encampment of her captors. This indulgence was in accordance with the
general policy of the red man, who well knew, moreover, that her trail
could have been easily followed in the event of flight. It will also be
remembered that the Iroquois, or Hurons, as it would be better to call
them, were entirely ignorant of the proximity of her lover, a fact,
indeed, that she did not know herself.</p>
<p>It is not easy to say which manifested the most self-possession at this
unexpected meeting; the pale-face, or the red girl. But, though a little
surprised, Wah-ta-Wah was the most willing to speak, and far the readier
in foreseeing consequences, as well as in devising means to avert them.
Her father, during her childhood, had been much employed as a warrior by
the authorities of the Colony, and dwelling for several years near the
forts, she had caught a knowledge of the English tongue, which she spoke
in the usual, abbreviated manner of an Indian, but fluently, and without
any of the ordinary reluctance of her people.</p>
<p>"Where go?—" repeated Wah-ta-Wah, returning the smile of Hetty, in
her own gentle, winning, manner—"wicked warrior that-a-way—good
warrior, far off."</p>
<p>"What's your name?" asked Hetty, with the simplicity of a child.</p>
<p>"Wah-ta-Wah. I no Mingo—good Delaware—Yengeese friend. Mingo
cruel, and love scalp, for blood—Delaware love him, for honor. Come
here, where no eyes."</p>
<p>Wah-ta-Wah now led her companion towards the lake, descending the bank so
as to place its overhanging trees and bushes between them and any probable
observers. Nor did she stop until they were both seated, side by side, on
a fallen log, one end of which actually lay buried in the water.</p>
<p>"Why you come for?" the young Indian eagerly inquired—"Where you
come for?" Hetty told her tale in her own simple and truth-loving manner.
She explained the situation of her father, and stated her desire to serve
him, and if possible to procure his release.</p>
<p>"Why your father come to Mingo camp in night?" asked the Indian girl, with
a directness, which if not borrowed from the other, partook largely of its
sincerity. "He know it war-time, and he no boy—he no want beard—no
want to be told Iroquois carry tomahawk, and knife, and rifle. Why he come
night time, seize me by hair, and try to scalp Delaware girl?"</p>
<p>"You!" said Hetty, almost sickening with horror—"Did he seize you—did
he try to scalp you?"</p>
<p>"Why no? Delaware scalp sell for much as Mingo scalp. Governor no tell
difference. Wicked t'ing for pale-face to scalp. No his gifts, as the good
Deerslayer always tell me."</p>
<p>"And do you know the Deerslayer?" said Hetty, coloring with delight and
surprise; forgetting her regrets, at the moment, in the influence of this
new feeling. "I know him, too. He is now in the Ark, with Judith and a
Delaware who is called the Big Serpent. A bold and handsome warrior is
this Serpent, too!"</p>
<p>Spite of the rich deep colour that nature had bestowed on the Indian
beauty, the tell-tale blood deepened on her cheeks, until the blush gave
new animation and intelligence to her jet-black eyes. Raising a finger in
an attitude of warning, she dropped her voice, already so soft and sweet,
nearly to a whisper, as she continued the discourse.</p>
<p>"Chingachgook!" returned the Delaware girl, sighing out the harsh name, in
sounds so softly guttural, as to cause it to reach the ear in melody—"His
father, Uncas—great chief of the Mahicanni—next to old
Tamenund!—More as warrior, not so much gray hair, and less at
Council Fire. You know Serpent?"</p>
<p>"He joined us last evening, and was in the Ark with me, for two or three
hours before I left it. I'm afraid, Hist—" Hetty could not pronounce
the Indian name of her new friend, but having heard Deerslayer give her
this familiar appellation, she used it without any of the ceremony of
civilized life—"I'm afraid Hist, he has come after scalps, as well
as my poor father and Hurry Harry."</p>
<p>"Why he shouldn't—ha? Chingachgook red warrior—very red—scalp
make his honor—Be sure he take him."</p>
<p>"Then," said Hetty, earnestly, "he will be as wicked as any other. God
will not pardon in a red man, what he will not pardon in a white man.</p>
<p>"No true—" returned the Delaware girl, with a warmth that nearly
amounted to passion. "No true, I tell you! The Manitou smile and pleased
when he see young warrior come back from the war path, with two, ten,
hundred scalp on a pole! Chingachgook father take scalp—grandfather
take scalp—all old chief take scalp, and Chingachgook take as many
scalp as he can carry, himself."</p>
<p>"Then, Hist, his sleep of nights must be terrible to think of. No one can
be cruel, and hope to be forgiven."</p>
<p>"No cruel—plenty forgiven—" returned Wah-ta-Wah, stamping her
little foot on the stony strand, and shaking her head in a way to show how
completely feminine feeling, in one of its aspects, had gotten the better
of feminine feeling in another. "I tell you, Serpent brave; he go home,
this time, with four,—yes—two scalp."</p>
<p>"And is that his errand, here?—Did he really come all this distance,
across mountain, and valley, rivers and lakes, to torment his fellow
creatures, and do so wicked a thing?"</p>
<p>This question at once appeased the growing ire of the half-offended Indian
beauty. It completely got the better of the prejudices of education, and
turned all her thoughts to a gentler and more feminine channel. At first,
she looked around her, suspiciously, as if distrusting eavesdroppers; then
she gazed wistfully into the face of her attentive companion; after which
this exhibition of girlish coquetry and womanly feeling, terminated by her
covering her face with both her hands, and laughing in a strain that might
well be termed the melody of the woods. Dread of discovery, however, soon
put a stop to this naive exhibition of feeling, and removing her hands,
this creature of impulses gazed again wistfully into the face of her
companion, as if inquiring how far she might trust a stranger with her
secret. Although Hetty had no claims to her sister's extraordinary beauty,
many thought her countenance the most winning of the two. It expressed all
the undisguised sincerity of her character, and it was totally free from
any of the unpleasant physical accompaniments that so frequently attend
mental imbecility. It is true that one accustomed to closer observations
than common, might have detected the proofs of her feebleness of intellect
in the language of her sometimes vacant eyes, but they were signs that
attracted sympathy by their total want of guile, rather than by any other
feeling. The effect on Hist, to use the English and more familiar
translation of the name, was favorable, and yielding to an impulse of
tenderness, she threw her arms around Hetty, and embraced her with an
outpouring emotion, so natural that it was only equaled by its warmth.</p>
<p>"You good—" whispered the young Indian—"you good, I know; it
so long since Wah-ta-Wah have a friend—a sister—any body to
speak her heart to! You Hist friend; don't I say trut'?"</p>
<p>"I never had a friend," answered Hetty returning the warm embrace with
unfeigned earnestness. "I've a sister, but no friend. Judith loves me, and
I love Judith; but that's natural, and as we are taught in the Bible—but
I should like to have a friend! I'll be your friend, with all my heart,
for I like your voice and your smile, and your way of thinking in every
thing, except about the scalps—"</p>
<p>"No t'ink more of him—no say more of scalp—" interrupted Hist,
soothingly—"You pale-face, I red-skin; we bring up different
fashion. Deerslayer and Chingachgook great friend, and no the same colour,
Hist and—what your name, pretty pale-face?"</p>
<p>"I am called Hetty, though when they spell the name in the bible, they
always spell it Esther."</p>
<p>"What that make?—no good, no harm. No need to spell name at all—Moravian
try to make Wah-ta-Wah spell, but no won't let him. No good for Delaware
girl to know too much—know more than warrior some time; that great
shame. My name Wah-ta-Wah that say Hist in your tongue; you call him, Hist—I
call him, Hetty."</p>
<p>These preliminaries settled to their mutual satisfaction, the two girls
began to discourse of their several hopes and projects. Hetty made her new
friend more fully acquainted with her intentions in behalf of her father,
and, to one in the least addicted to prying into the affairs, Hist would
have betrayed her own feelings and expectations in connection with the
young warrior of her own tribe. Enough was revealed on both sides,
however, to let each party get a tolerable insight into the views of the
other, though enough still remained in mental reservation, to give rise to
the following questions and answers, with which the interview in effect
closed. As the quickest witted, Hist was the first with her
interrogatories. Folding an arm about the waist of Hetty, she bent her
head so as to look up playfully into the face of the other, and, laughing,
as if her meaning were to be extracted from her looks, she spoke more
plainly.</p>
<p>"Hetty got broder, as well as fader?—" she said—"Why no talk
of broder, as well as fader?"</p>
<p>"I have no brother, Hist. I had one once, they say, but he is dead many a
year, and lies buried in the lake, by the side of my mother."</p>
<p>"No got broder—got a young warrior—Love him, almost as much as
fader, eh? Very handsome, and brave-looking; fit to be chief, if he good
as he seem to be."</p>
<p>"It's wicked to love any man as well as I love my father, and so I strive
not to do it, Hist," returned the conscientious Hetty, who knew not how to
conceal an emotion, by an approach to an untruth as venial as an evasion,
though powerfully tempted by female shame to err, "though I sometimes
think wickedness will get the better of me, if Hurry comes so often to the
lake. I must tell you the truth, dear Hist, because you ask me, but I
should fall down and die in the woods, if he knew it!"</p>
<p>"Why he no ask you, himself?—Brave looking—why not bold
speaking? Young warrior ought to ask young girl, no make young girl speak
first. Mingo girls too shame for that."</p>
<p>This was said indignantly, and with the generous warmth a young female of
spirit would be apt to feel, at what she deemed an invasion of her sex's
most valued privilege. It had little influence on the simple-minded, but
also just-minded Hetty, who, though inherently feminine in all her
impulses, was much more alive to the workings of her own heart, than to
any of the usages with which convention has protected the sensitiveness of
her sex.</p>
<p>"Ask me what?' the startled girl demanded, with a suddenness that proved
how completely her fears had been aroused. 'Ask me, if I like him as well
as I do my own father! Oh! I hope he will never put such a question to me,
for I should have to answer, and that would kill me!"</p>
<p>"No—no—no kill, quite—almost," returned the other,
laughing in spite of herself. "Make blush come—make shame come too;
but he no stay great while; then feel happier than ever. Young warrior
must tell young girl he want to make wife, else never can live in his
wigwam."</p>
<p>"Hurry don't want to marry me—nobody will ever want to marry me,
Hist."</p>
<p>"How you can know? P'raps every body want to marry you, and by-and-bye,
tongue say what heart feel. Why nobody want to marry you?"</p>
<p>"I am not full witted, they say. Father often tells me this; and so does
Judith, sometimes, when she is vexed; but I shouldn't so much mind them,
as I did mother. She said so once and then she cried as if her heart would
break; and, so, I know I'm not full witted."</p>
<p>Hist gazed at the gentle, simple girl, for quite a minute without
speaking, and then the truth appeared to flash all at once on the mind of
the young Indian maid. Pity, reverence and tenderness seemed struggling
together in her breast, and then rising suddenly, she indicated a wish to
her companion that she would accompany her to the camp, which was situated
at no great distance. This unexpected change from the precautions that
Hist had previously manifested a desire to use, in order to prevent being
seen, to an open exposure of the person of her friend, arose from the
perfect conviction that no Indian would harm a being whom the Great Spirit
had disarmed, by depriving it of its strongest defence, reason. In this
respect, nearly all unsophisticated nations resemble each other, appearing
to offer spontaneously, by a feeling creditable to human nature, that
protection by their own forbearance, which has been withheld by the
inscrutable wisdom of Providence. Wah-ta-Wah, indeed, knew that in many
tribes the mentally imbecile and the mad were held in a species of
religious reverence, receiving from these untutored inhabitants of the
forest respect and honors, instead of the contumely and neglect that it is
their fortune to meet with among the more pretending and sophisticated.</p>
<p>Hetty accompanied her new friend without apprehension or reluctance. It
was her wish to reach the camp, and, sustained by her motives, she felt no
more concern for the consequences than did her companion herself, now the
latter was apprised of the character of the protection that the pale-face
maiden carried with her. Still, as they proceeded slowly along a shore
that was tangled with overhanging bushes, Hetty continued the discourse,
assuming the office of interrogating which the other had instantly
dropped, as soon as she ascertained the character of the mind to which her
questions had been addressed.</p>
<p>"But you are not half-witted," said Hetty, "and there's no reason why the
Serpent should not marry you."</p>
<p>"Hist prisoner, and Mingo got big ear. No speak of Chingachgook when they
by. Promise Hist that, good Hetty."</p>
<p>"I know—I know—" returned Hetty, half-whispering, in her
eagerness to let the other see she understood the necessity of caution. "I
know—Deerslayer and the Serpent mean to get you away from the
Iroquois, and you wish me not to tell the secret."</p>
<p>"How you know?" said Hist, hastily, vexed at the moment that the other was
not even more feeble minded than was actually the case. "How you know?
Better not talk of any but fader and Hurry—Mingo understand dat; he
no understand t'udder. Promise you no talk about what you no understand."</p>
<p>"But I do understand this, Hist, and so I must talk about it. Deerslayer
as good as told father all about it, in my presence, and as nobody told me
not to listen, I overheard it all, as I did Hurry and father's discourse
about the scalps."</p>
<p>"Very bad for pale-faces to talk about scalps, and very bad for young
woman to hear! Now you love Hist, I know, Hetty, and so, among Injins,
when love hardest never talk most."</p>
<p>"That's not the way among white people, who talk most about them they love
best. I suppose it's because I'm only half-witted that I don't see the
reason why it should be so different among red people."</p>
<p>"That what Deerslayer call gift. One gift to talk; t'udder gift to hold
tongue. Hold tongue your gift, among Mingos. If Sarpent want to see Hist,
so Hetty want to see Hurry. Good girl never tell secret of friend."</p>
<p>Hetty understood this appeal, and she promised the Delaware girl not to
make any allusion to the presence of Chingachgook, or to the motive of his
visit to the lake.</p>
<p>"Maybe he get off Hurry and fader, as well as Hist, if let him have his
way," whispered Wah-ta-Wah to her companion, in a confiding flattering
way, just as they got near enough to the encampment to hear the voices of
several of their own sex, who were apparently occupied in the usual toils
of women of their class. "Tink of dat, Hetty, and put two, twenty finger
on mouth. No get friend free without Sarpent do it."</p>
<p>A better expedient could not have been adopted, to secure the silence and
discretion of Hetty, than that which was now presented to her mind. As the
liberation of her father and the young frontier man was the great object
of her adventure, she felt the connection between it and the services of
the Delaware, and with an innocent laugh, she nodded her head, and in the
same suppressed manner, promised a due attention to the wishes of her
friend. Thus assured, Hist tarried no longer, but immediately and openly
led the way into the encampment of her captors.</p>
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