The Deerslayer (Barnes & Noble Classics) - James Fenimore Cooper [182]
“I! Judith, how you forget! Why, I am not beautiful, and am feebleminded.”
“You are good, Hetty, and that is more than can be said of Henry March. He may have a face, and a body, but he has no heart. But enough of this, for the present. Tell me what raises me to an equality with Deerslayer.”
“To think of you asking me this, Judith! He can’t read, and you can. He don’t know how to talk, but speaks worse than Hurry even; for, sister, Harry doesn’t always pronounce his words right! Did you ever notice that?”
“Certainly, he is as coarse in speech as in everything else. But I fear you flatter me, Hetty, when you think I can be justly called the equal of a man like Deerslayer. It is true, I have been better taught; in one sense am more comely, and perhaps might look higher; but then his truth—his truth-makes a fearful difference between us! Well, I will talk no more of this; and we will bethink us of the means of getting him out of the hands of the Hurons. We have father’s chest in the ark, Hetty, and might try the temptation of more elephants; though I fear such baubles will not buy the liberty of a man like Deerslayer. I am afraid father and Hurry will not be as willing to ransom Deerslayer, as Deerslayer was to ransom them!”
“Why not, Judith? Hurry and Deerslayer are friends, and friends should always help one another.”
“Alas, poor Hetty, you little know mankind! Seeming friends are often more to be dreaded than open enemies; particularly by females. But you’ll have to land in the morning, and try again what can be done for Deerslayer. Tortured he shall not be, while Judith Hutter lives, and can find means to prevent it.”
The conversation now grew desultory, and was drawn out, until the elder sister had extracted from the younger every fact the feeble faculties of the latter permitted her to retain, and to communicate. When Judith was satisfied—though she could never be said to be satisfied, whose feelings seemed to be so interwoven with all that related to the subject, as to have excited a nearly inappeasable curiosity—but, when Judith could think of no more questions to ask, without resorting to repetition, the canoe was paddled towards the scow. The intense darkness of the night, and the deep shadows which the hills and forest cast upon the water, rendered it difficult to find the vessel, anchored, as it had been, as close to the shore as a regard to safety rendered prudent. Judith was expert in the management of a bark canoe, the lightness of which demanded skill rather than strength; and she forced her own little vessel swiftly over the water, the moment she had ended her conference with Hetty, and had come to the determination to return. Still no ark was seen. Several times the sisters fancied they saw it looming up in the obscurity, like a low black rock, but on each occasion it was found to be either an optical illusion or some swell of the foliage on the shore. After a search that lasted half an hour, the girls were forced to the unwelcome conviction that the ark had departed.
Most young women would have felt the awkwardness of their situation, in a physical sense, under the circumstances in which the sisters were left, more than any apprehension of a different nature. Not so with Judith, however; and even Hetty felt more concern about the motives that might have influenced her father and Hurry, than any fears for her own safety.
“It cannot be, Hetty,” said Judith, when a thorough search had satisfied them both that no ark was to be found, “it cannot be that the Indians have rafted, or swum off, and surprised our friends as they slept?”
“I don’t believe that Hist and Chingachgook would sleep until they had told each other all they had to say after so long a separation—do you, sister?”
“Perhaps not, child. There was much to keep them awake, but one Indian may have been surprised even when not asleep, especially