The Deerslayer. Джеймс Фенимор Купер
As for scalping, or even skinning a savage, I look upon them pretty much the same as cutting off the ears of wolves for the bounty, or stripping a bear of its hide. And then you’re out significantly, as to taking the poll of a red-skin in hand, seeing that the very colony has offered a bounty for the job; all the same as it pays for wolves’ ears and crows’ heads.”
“Ay, and a bad business it is, Hurry. Even the Indians themselves cry shame on it, seeing it’s ag’in a white man’s gifts. I do not pretend that all that white men do, is properly Christianized, and according to the lights given them, for then they would be what they ought to be; which we know they are not; but I will maintain that tradition, and use, and color, and laws, make such a difference in races as to amount to gifts. I do not deny that there are tribes among the Indians that are nat’rally pervarse and wicked, as there are nations among the whites. Now, I account the Mingos as belonging to the first, and the Frenchers, in the Canadas, to the last. In a state of lawful warfare, such as we have lately got into, it is a duty to keep down all compassionate feelin’s, so far as life goes, ag’in either; but when it comes to scalps, it’s a very different matter.”
“Just hearken to reason, if you please, Deerslayer, and tell me if the colony can make an onlawful law? Isn’t an onlawful law more ag’in natur’ than scalpin’ a savage? A law can no more be onlawful, than truth can be a lie.”
“That sounds reasonable; but it has a most onreasonable bearing, Hurry. Laws don’t all come from the same quarter. God has given us his’n, and some come from the colony, and others come from the King and Parliament. When the colony’s laws, or even the King’s laws, run ag’in the laws of God, they get to be onlawful, and ought not to be obeyed. I hold to a white man’s respecting white laws, so long as they do not cross the track of a law comin’ from a higher authority; and for a red man to obey his own red-skin usages, under the same privilege. But, ’tis useless talking, as each man will think fir himself, and have his say agreeable to his thoughts. Let us keep a good lookout for your friend Floating Tom, lest we pass him, as he lies hidden under this bushy shore.”
Deerslayer had not named the borders of the lake amiss. Along their whole length, the smaller trees overhung the water, with their branches often dipping in the transparent element. The banks were steep, even from the narrow strand; and, as vegetation invariably struggles towards the light, the effect was precisely that at which the lover of the picturesque would have aimed, had the ordering of this glorious setting of forest been submitted to his control. The points and bays, too, were sufficiently numerous to render the outline broken and diversified. As the canoe kept close along the western side of the lake, with a view, as Hurry had explained to his companion, of reconnoitering for enemies, before he trusted himself too openly in sight, the expectations of the two adventurers were kept constantly on the stretch, as neither could foretell what the next turning of a point might reveal. Their progress was swift, the gigantic strength of Hurry enabling him to play with the light bark as if it had been a feather, while the skill of his companion almost equalized their usefulness, notwithstanding the disparity in natural means.
Each time the canoe passed a point, Hurry turned a look behind him, expecting to see the “ark” anchored, or beached in the bay. He was fated to be disappointed, however; and they had got within a mile of the southern end of the lake, or a distance of quite two leagues from the “castle,” which was now hidden from view by half a dozen intervening projections of the land, when he suddenly ceased paddling, as if uncertain in what direction next to steer.
“It is possible that the old chap has dropped into the river,” said Hurry, after looking carefully along the whole of the eastern shore, which was about a mile distant, and open to his scrutiny for more than half its length; “for he has taken to trapping considerable, of late, and, barring flood-wood, he might drop down it a mile or so; though he would have a most scratching time in getting back again!”
“Where is this outlet?” asked Deerslayer; “I see no opening in the banks or the trees, that looks as if it would let a river like the Susquehannah run through it.”
“Ay, Deerslayer, rivers are like human mortals; having small beginnings, and ending with broad shoulders and wide mouths. You don’t see the outlet, because it passes atween high, steep banks; and the pines, and hemlocks and bass-woods hang over it, as a roof hangs over a house. If old Tom is not in the ‘Rat’s Cove,’ he must have burrowed in the river; we’ll look for him first in the cove, and then we’ll cross to the outlet.”
As they proceeded, Hurry explained that there was a shallow bay, formed by a long, low point, that had got the name of the “Rat’s Cove,” from the circumstance of its being a favorite haunt of the muskrat; and which offered so complete a cover for the “ark,” that its owner was fond of lying in it, whenever he found it convenient.
“As a man never knows who may be his visitors, in this part of the country,” continued Hurry, “it’s a great advantage to get a good look at ’em afore they come too near. Now it’s war, such caution is more than commonly useful, since a Canada man or a Mingo might get into his hut afore he invited ’em. But Hutter is a first-rate look-outer, and can pretty much scent danger, as a hound scents the deer.”
“I should think the castle so open, that it would be sartain to draw inimies, if any happened to find the lake; a thing onlikely enough, I will allow, as it’s off the trail of the forts and settlements.”
“Why, Deerslayer, I’ve got to believe that a man meets with inimies easier than he meets with fri’nds. It’s skearful to think for how many causes one gets to be your inimy, and for how few your fri’nd. Some take up the hatchet because you don’t think just as they think; other some because you run ahead of ’em in the same idees; and I once know’d a vagabond that quarrelled with a fri’nd because he didn’t think him handsome. Now, you’re no monument in the way of beauty, yourself, Deerslayer, and yet you wouldn’t be so onreasonable as to become my inimy for just saying so.”
“I’m as the Lord made me; and I wish to be accounted no better, nor any worse. Good looks I may not have; that is to say, to a degree that the light-minded and vain crave; but I hope I’m not altogether without some ricommend in the way of good conduct. There’s few nobler looking men to be seen than yourself, Hurry; and I know that I am not to expect any to turn their eyes on me, when such a one as you can be gazed on; but I do not know that a hunter is less expart with the rifle, or less to be relied on for food, because he doesn’t wish to stop at every shining spring he may meet, to study his own countenance in the water.”
Here Hurry burst into a fit of loud laughter; for while he was too reckless to care much about his own manifest physical superiority, he was well aware of it, and, like most men who derive an advantage from the accidents of birth or nature, he was apt to think complacently on the subject, whenever it happened to cross his mind.
“No, no, Deerslayer, you’re no beauty, as you will own yourself, if you’ll look over the side of the canoe,” he cried; “Jude will say that to your face, if you start her, for a parter tongue isn’t to be found in any gal’s head, in or out of the settlements, if you provoke her to use it. My advice to you is, never to aggravate Judith; though you may tell anything to Hetty, and she’ll take it as meek as a lamb. No, Jude will be just as like as not to tell you her opinion consarning your looks.”
“And if she does, Hurry, she will tell me no more than you have said already.”
“You’re not thick’ning up about a small remark, I hope, Deerslayer, when no harm is meant. You are not a beauty, as you must know, and why shouldn’t fri’nds tell each other these little trifles? If you was handsome, or ever like to be, I’d be one of the first to tell you of it; and that ought to content you. Now, if Jude was to tell me that I’m as ugly as a sinner, I’d take it as a sort of obligation, and try not to believe her.”
“It’s easy for them that natur’ has favored, to jest about such matters, Hurry, though it is sometimes hard for others. I’ll not deny but I’ve had my cravings towards good looks; yes, I have; but then I’ve always been able to get them down by considering how many I’ve known with fair outsides, who have had nothing to boast of inwardly. I’ll not deny, Hurry, that