The Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics) - James Fenimore Cooper [113]
“Thank you for that, father! Now I can speak boldly to the Iroquois, and with an easy conscience. I hope Hurry, too, has not been able to harm any of the Indians?”
“Why, as to that matter, Hetty,” returned the individual in question, “you’ve put it pretty much in the natyve character of the religious truth. Hurry has not been able, and that is the long and short of it. I’ve seen many squalls, old fellow, both on land and on the water, but never did I feel one as lively and as snappish as that which come down upon us night afore last, in the shape of an Indian hurrah-boys! Why, Hetty, you’re no great matter at a reason or an idee that lies a little deeper than common, but you’re human and have some human notions; now I’ll just ask you to look at these circumstances. Here was old Tom, your father, and myself bent on a legal operation, as is to be seen in the words of the law and the proclamation, thinking no harm, when we were set upon by critters that were more like a pack of hungry wolves than mortal savages even, and there they had us tethered like two sheep in less time than it has taken me to tell you the story.”
“You are free, now, Hurry,” returned Hetty, glancing timidly at the fine, unfettered limbs of the young giant. “You have no cords or withes to pain your arms or legs now.”
“Not I, Hetty. Natur’ is natur‘, and freedom is natur’, too. My limbs have a free look, but that’s pretty much the amount of it, sin’ I can’t use them in the way I should like. Even these trees have eyes; ay, and tongues, too; for, was the old man here, or I, to start one single rod beyond our jail limits, sarvice would be put on the bail afore we could ‘gird up our loins’ for a race; and like as not, four or five rifle bullets would be traveling arter us, carrying so many invitations to curb our impatience. There isn’t a jail in the colony as tight as this we are now in; for I’ve tried the vartue of two or three on ’em, and I know the mater‘als they are made of, as well as the men that make ’em, takin’ down being the next step in schoolin’ to puttin’ up, in all such fabrications.”
Lest the reader should get an exaggerated opinion of Hurry’s demerits from this boastful and indiscreet revelation, it may be well to say that his offenses were confined to assaults and batteries, for several of which he had been imprisoned, when, as he has just said, he often escaped by demonstrating the flimsiness of the constructions in which he was confined, by opening for himself doors in spots where the architects had neglected to place them. But Hetty had no knowledge of jails, and little of the nature of crime, beyond what her unadulterated and almost instinctive perceptions of right and wrong taught her, and this sally of the rude being who had spoken was lost upon her. She understood his general meaning, however, and answered in reference to that alone.
“It’s so best, Hurry,” she said. “It is best father and you should be quiet and peaceable till I have spoken to the Iroquois, when all will be well and happy I don’t wish either of you to follow, but leave me to myself. As soon as all is settled, and you are at liberty to go back to the castle, I will come and let you know it.”
Hetty spoke with so much simple earnestness, seemed so confident of success, and wore so high an air of moral feeling and truth, that both the listeners felt more disposed to attach an importance to her mediation than might otherwise have happened. When she manifested an intention to quit them, therefore, they offered no obstacle, though they saw she was about to join the group of chiefs who were consulting apart, seemingly on the manner and motive of her own sudden appearance.
When Hist—for so we love best to call her—quitted her companion, she strayed near one or two of the elder warriors, who had shown her most kindness in her captivity—the principal