sincerity in the voice of Deerslayer, which touched the girl’s feelings; nor did the allusion to her beauty lessen the effect with one who only knew too well the power of her personal charms. Nevertheless, the still, small voice of conscience was not hushed, and it prompted the answer which she made, after giving herself time to reflect.
“I dare say Hurry had some of his vile hints about the people of the garrisons,” she added. “He knows they are gentlemen, and can never forgive any one for being what he feels he can never become himself.”
“Not in the sense of a king’s officer, Judith, sartainly, for March has no turn thataway; but in the sense of reality, why may not a beaver-hunter be as respectable as a governor? Since you speak of it yourself, I’ll not deny that he did complain of one as humble as you being so much in the company of scarlet coats and silken sashes. But ’twas jealousy that brought it out of him, and I do think he mourned over his own thoughts as a mother would have mourned over her child.”
Perhaps Deerslayer was not aware of the full meaning that his earnest language conveyed. It is certain that he did not see the color that crimsoned the whole of Judith’s fine face, nor detect the uncontrollable distress that immediately after changed its hue to deadly paleness. A minute or two elapsed in profound stillness, the splash of the water seeming to occupy all the avenues of sound; and then Judith arose, and grasped the hand of the hunter, almost convulsively, with one of her own.
“Deerslayer,” she said, hurriedly, “I’m glad the ice is broke between us. They say that sudden friendships lead to long enmities, but I do not believe it will turn out so with us. I know not how it is—but you are the first man I ever met, who did not seem to wish to flatter—to wish my ruin—to be an enemy in disguise—never mind; say nothing to Hurry, and another time we’ll talk together again.”
As the girl released her grasp, she vanished in the house, leaving the astonished young man standing at the steering-oar, as motionless as one of the pines on the hills. So abstracted, indeed, had his thoughts become, that he was hailed by Hutter to keep the scow’s head in the right direction, before he remembered his actual situation.
“So spake the apostate Angel, though in pain,
Vaunting aloud, but racked with deep despair.”
Paradise Lost, I. 125–26.
Shortly after the disappearance of Judith, a light southerly air arose, and Hutter set a large square sail, that had once been the flying top-sail of an Albany sloop, but which having become threadbare in catching the breezes of Tappan, had been condemned and sold. He had a light, tough spar of tamarack that he could raise on occasion, and with a little contrivance, his duck was spread to the wind in a sufficiently professional manner. The effect on the ark was such as to supersede the necessity of rowing; and in about two hours the castle was seen, in the darkness, rising out of the water, at the distance of a hundred yards. The sail was then lowered, and by slow degrees the scow drifted up to the building, and was secured.
No one had visited the house since Hurry and his companion left it. The place was found in the quiet of midnight, a sort of type of the solitude of a wilderness. As an enemy was known to be near, Hutter directed his daughters to abstain from the use of lights, luxuries in which they seldom indulged during the warm months, lest they might prove beacons to direct their foes where they might be found.
“In open daylight I shouldn’t fear a host of savages behind these stout logs, and they without any cover to skulk into,” added Hutter, when he had explained to his guests the reasons why he forbade the use of light; “for I’ve three or four trusty weapons always loaded, and Killdeer, in particular, is a piece that never misses. But it’s a different thing at night. A canoe might get upon us unseen, in the dark; and the savages have so many cunning ways of attacking, that I look upon it as bad enough to deal with ’em under a bright sun. I built this dwelling in order to have ’em at arm’s length, in case we should ever get to blows again. Some people think it’s too open and exposed, but I’m for anchoring out here, clear of underbrush and thickets, as the surest means of making a safe berth.”
“You was once a sailor, they tell me, old Tom?” said Hurry, in his abrupt manner, struck by one or two expressions that the other had just used, “and some people believe you could give us strange accounts of inimies and shipwrecks, if you’d a mind to come out with all you know?”
“There are people in this world, Hurry,” returned the other, evasively, “who live on other men’s thoughts; and some such often find their way into the woods. What I’ve been, or what I’ve seen in youth, is of less matter now than what the savages are. It’s of more account to find out what will happen in the next twenty-four hours than to talk over what happened twenty-four years since.”
“That’s judgment, Deerslayer; yes, that’s sound judgment. Here’s Judith and Hetty to take care of, to say nothing of our own top-knots; and, for my part, I can sleep as well in the dark as I could under a noonday sun. To me it’s no great matter whether there is light or not, to see to shut my eyes by.”
As Deerslayer seldom thought it necessary to answer his companion’s peculiar vein of humor, and Hutter was evidently indisposed to dwell longer on the subject, it’s discussion ceased with this remark. The latter had something more on his mind, however, than recollections. His daughters had no sooner left them, with an expressed intention of going to bed, than he invited his two companions to follow him again into the scow. Here the old man opened his project, keeping back the portion that he had reserved for execution by Hurry and himself.
“The great object for people posted like ourselves is to command the water,” he commenced. “So long as there is no other craft on the lake, a bark canoe is as good as a man-of-war, since the castle will not be easily taken by swimming. Now, there are but five canoes remaining in these parts, two of which are mine, and one is Hurry’s. These three we have with us here; one being fastened in the canoe-dock beneath the house, and the other two being alongside the scow. The other canoes are housed on the shore, in hollow logs, and the savages, who are such venomous enemies, will leave no likely place unexamined in the morning, if they’re serious in s’arch of bounties—”
“Now, friend Hutter,” interrupted Hurry, “the Indian don’t live that can find a canoe that is suitably wintered. I’ve done something at this business before now, and Deerslayer here knows that I am one that can hide a craft in such a way that I can’t find it myself.”
“Very true, Hurry,” put in the person to whom the appeal had been made, “but you overlook the sarcumstance that if you couldn’t see the trail of the man who did the job, I could. I’m of Master Hutter’s mind, that it’s far wiser to mistrust a savage’s ingenuity, than to build any great expectations on his want of eye-sight. If these two canoes can be got off to the castle, therefore, the sooner it’s done the better.”
“Will you be of the party that’s to do it?” demanded Hutter, in a way to show that the proposal both surprised and pleased him.
“Sartain. I’m ready to enlist in any enterprise that’s not ag’in a white man’s lawful gifts. Natur’ orders us to defend our lives, and the lives of others, too, when there’s occasion and opportunity. I’ll follow you, Floating Tom, into the Mingo camp, on such an arr’nd, and will strive to do my duty, should we come to blows; though, never having been tried in battle, I don’t like to promise more than I may be able to perform. We all know our wishes, but none know their might til put to the proof.”
“That’s
