The Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics) - James Fenimore Cooper [175]
“My paleface brother is right; he is no Indian to forget his Manitou and his color. The Hurons know that they have a great warrior for their prisoner, and they will treat him as one. If he is to be tortured, his torments shall be such as no common man can bear; if he is to be treated as a friend, it will be the friendship of chiefs.”
As the Huron uttered this extraordinary assurance of consideration his eye furtively glanced at the countenance of his listener, in order to discover how he stood the compliment; though his gravity and apparent sincerity would have prevented any man but one practiced in artifices, from detecting his motives. Deerslayer belonged to the class of the unsuspicious; and acquainted with the Indian notions of what constituted respect, in matters connected with the treatment of captives, he felt his blood chill at the announcement, even while he maintained an aspect so steeled that his quick-sighted enemy could discover in it no sign of weakness.
“God has put me in your hands, Huron,” the captive at length answered, “and I suppose you will act your will on me. I shall not boast of what I can do, under torment, for I’ve never been tried, and no man can say till he has been; but I’ll do my endivors not to disgrace the people among whom I got my training. Howsever, I wish you now to bear witness, that I’m altogether of white blood, and, in a nat’ral way, of white gifts, too; so, should I be overcome and forget myself, I hope you’ll lay the fault where it properly belongs; and in no manner put it on the Delawares, or their allies and friends the Mohicans. We’re all created with more or less weakness, and I’m afeard it’s a paleface’s to give in under great bodily torment, when a redskin will sing his songs, and boast of his deeds in the very teeth of his foes!”
“We shall see. Hawkeye has a good countenance, and he is tough—but why should he be tormented when the Hurons love him? He is not born their enemy; and the death of one warrior will not cast a cloud between them forever.”
“So much the better, Huron; so much the better. Still, I don’t wish to owe anything to a mistake about each other’s meaning. It is so much the better that you bear no malice for the loss of a warrior who fell in war; and yet it is ontrue that there is no inmity—lawful inmity, I mean, atween us. So far as I have redskin feelin’s at all, I’ve Delaware feelin’s; and I leave you to judge for yourself, how far they are likely to be fri’ndly to the Mingos—”
Deerslayer ceased, for a sort of specter stood before him that put a stop to his words, and, indeed, caused him for a moment to doubt the fidelity of his boasted vision. Hetty Hutter was standing at the side of the fire, as quietly as if she belonged to the tribe.
As the hunter and the Indian sat watching the emotions that were betrayed in each other’s countenance the girl had approached unnoticed, doubtless ascending the beach on the southern side of the point, or that next to the spot where the ark had anchored, and had advanced to the fire with the fearlessness that belonged to her simplicity, and which was certainly justified by the treatment formerly received from the Indians. As soon as Rivenoak perceived the girl she was recognized, and calling to two or three of the young warriors, the chief sent them out to reconnoitre, lest her appearance should be the forerunner of another attack. He then motioned to Hetty to draw near.
“I hope your visit is a sign that the Sarpent and Hist are in safety, Hetty,” said Deerslayer, as soon as the girl had complied with the Huron’s request. “I don’t think you’d come ashore ag‘in on the arr’nd that brought you here afore.”
“Judith told me to come this time, Deerslayer,” Hetty replied; “she paddled me ashore herself, in a canoe, as soon as the Serpent had shown her Hist, and told his story. How handsome Hist is tonight, Deerslayer, and how much happier she looks than when she was with the Hurons!”
“That’s natur