The Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics) - James Fenimore Cooper [142]
As the raft drew nearer, every means possessed by the party in the castle was resorted to, in order to ascertain if their visitors had any firearms. Neither Deerslayer nor Chingachgook could discover any; but Judith, unwilling to trust to simple eyesight, thrust the glass through the loop, and directed it towards the hemlock boughs that lay between the two logs of the raft, forming a sort of flooring, as well as a seat for the use of the rowers. When the heavy-moving craft was within fifty feet of him, Deerslayer hailed the Hurons, directing them to cease rowing, it not being his intention to permit them to land. Compliance, of course, was necessary, and the two grim-looking warriors instantly quitted their seats, though the raft continued slowly to approach, until it had driven in much nearer to the platform.
“Are ye chiefs?” demanded Deerslayer, with dignity “Are ye chiefs?—or have the Mingos sent me warriors without names, on such an arr’nd? If so, the sooner ye go back, the sooner the one will be likely to come that a warrior can talk with.”
“Hugh!” exclaimed the elder of the two on the raft, rolling his glowing eyes over the different objects that were visible in and about the castle, with a keenness that showed how little escaped him. “My brother is very proud, but Rivenoak (we use the literal translation of the term, writing as we do in English) is a name to make a Delaware turn pale.”
“That’s true, or it’s a lie, Rivenoak, as it may be; but I am not likely to turn pale, seeing that I was born pale. What’s your arr’nd, and why do you come among light bark canoes on logs that are not even dug out?”
“The Iroquois are not ducks, to walk on water! Let the paleface give them a canoe, and they’ll come in a canoe.”
“That’s more rational than likely to come to pass. We have but four canoes, and being four persons, that’s only one for each of us. We thank you for the offer, howsever, though we ask leave not to accept it. You are welcome, Iroquois, on your logs!”
“Thanks—my young paleface warrior—he has got a name—how do the chiefs call him?”
Deerslayer hesitated a moment, and a gleam of pride and human weakness came over him. He smiled, muttered between his teeth, and then looking up proudly, he said—
“Mingo, like all who are young and actyve, I’ve been known by different names, at different times. One of your warriors whose spirit started for the happy grounds of your people as lately as yesterday morning, thought I desarved to be known by the name of Hawkeye; and this because my sight happened to be quicker than his own, when it got to be life or death atween us.”
Chingachgook, who was attentively listening to all that passed, heard and understood this proof of passing weakness in his friend, and on a future occasion he questioned him more closely concerning the transaction on the point where Deerslayer had first taken human life. When he had got the whole truth, he did not fail to communicate it to the tribe, from which time the young hunter was universally known among the Delawares by an appellation so honorably earned. As this, however, was a period posterior to all the incidents of this tale, we shall continue to call the young hunter by the name under which he has been first introduced to the reader. Nor was the Iroquois less struck with the vaunt of the white man. He knew of the death of his comrade, and had no difficulty in understanding the allusion; the intercourse between the conqueror and his victim on that occasion having been seen by several savages on the shore of the lake, who had been stationed at different points just within the margin of bushes, to watch the drifting canoes, and who had not time to reach