The Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics) - James Fenimore Cooper [118]
“Stop cry—no cry,” she said, wiping the tears from the face of Hetty, as she would have performed the same office for a child, and stopping to press her, occasionally, to her own warm bosom with the affection of a sister; “why you so trouble? You no make he book, if he be wrong, and you no make he paleface, if he be wicked. There wicked redman, and wicked white man—no color all good—no color all wicked. Chiefs know that well enough.”
Hetty soon recovered from this sudden burst of grief, and then her mind reverted to the purpose of her visit, with its single-hearted earnestness. Perceiving that the grim-looking chiefs were still standing around her, in grave attention, she hoped that another effort to convince them of the right might be successful.
“Listen, Hist,” she said, struggling to suppress her sobs, and to speak distinctly; “tell the chiefs that it matters not what the wicked do—right is right—the words of the Great Spirit are the words of the Great Spirit—and no one can go harmless for doing an evil act, because another has done it before him! ‘Render good for evil; says this book; and that is the law for the redman as well as for the white man.”
“Never hear such law among Delaware, or among Iroquois,” answered Hist, soothingly. “No good to tell chiefs any such law as dat. Tell ‘em somet’ing they believe.”
Hist was about to proceed, notwithstanding, when a tap on the shoulder, from the finger of the oldest chief, caused her to look up. She then perceived that one of the warriors had left the group, and was already returning to it with Hutter and Hurry. Understanding that the two last were to become parties in the inquiry, she became mute, with the unhesitating obedience of an Indian woman. In a few seconds the prisoners stood face to face with the principal men of the captors.
“Daughter,” said the senior chief to the young Delaware, “ask this graybeard why he came into our camp?”
The question was put by Hist, in her own imperfect English, but in a way that was easy to be understood. Hutter was too stern and obdurate, by nature, to shrink from the consequences of any of his acts, and he was also too familiar with the opinions of the savages not to understand that nothing was to be gained by equivocation, or an unmanly dread of their anger. Without hesitating, therefore, he avowed the purpose with which he had landed, merely justifying it by the fact that the government of the province had bid high for scalps. This frank avowal was received by the Iroquois with evident satisfaction, not so much, however, on account of the advantage it gave them in a moral point of view, as by proving that they had captured a man worthy of occupying their thoughts, and of becoming a subject of their revenge. Hurry, when interrogated, confessed the truth, though he would have been more disposed to concealment than his sterner companion, did the circumstances very well admit of its adoption. But he had tact enough to discover that equivocation would be useless at that moment, and he made a merit of necessity by imitating a frankness, which, in the case of Hutter, was the offspring of habits of indifference acting on a disposition that was always ruthless and reckless of personal consequences.
As soon as the chiefs had received the answers to their questions, they walked away in silence, like men who deemed the matter disposed of, all Hetty’s dogmas being thrown away on beings trained in violence from infancy to manhood. Hetty and Hist were now left alone with Hutter and Hurry, no visible restraint being placed on the movements of either; though all four, in fact, were vigilantly and unceasingly watched. As respects the men, care was had to prevent them from getting possession of any of the rifles that lay scattered