CHAPTER VII. CHAPTER VII. Clear placid lemen, thy contrasted lake with the wild world I dwelt in, is a thing which warns me, with its stillness, to forsake earth's troubled waters for a purer spring. This quiet sail is as a noiseless wing to waft me from distraction. Once I loved Torn Ocean's roar, but thy soft murmuring sounds sweet as if a sister's voice reproved, that I with stern delight should err have been so moved. Byron. Day had fairly dawned before the young man, whom we have left in the situation described in the last chapter, again opened his eyes. This was no sooner done than he started up and looked about him with the eagerness of one who suddenly felt the importance of accurately ascertaining his precise position. His rest had been deep and undisturbed, and when he awoke it was with a clearness of intellect and a readiness of resources that were very much needed at that particular moment. The sun had not risen, it is true, but the vault of heaven was rich with the winning softness that brings and shuts the day, while the whole air was filled with the carols of birds, the hymns of the feathered tribe. These sounds first told dear Slayer the risks he ran. The air, for when it could scarce be called, was still light, it is true, but it had increased a little in the course of the night, and as the canoes were feathers on the water they had drifted twice the expected distance, and, what was still more dangerous, had approached so near the base of the mountain that here rose precipitously from the eastern shore as to render the carols of the birds plainly audible. This was not the worst. The third canoe had taken the same direction and was slowly drifting towards a point where it must inevitably touch unless turned aside by a shift of wind or human hands. In other respects nothing presented itself to attract attention or to awaken alarm. The castle stood on its shore, nearly abreast of the canoes, for the drift had amounted to miles in the course of the night, and the arc lay fastened to its piles as both had been left so many hours before. As a matter of course dear Slayer's attention was first given to the canoe ahead. It was already quite near the point, and a very few strokes of the paddle sufficed to tell him that it must touch before he could possibly overtake it. Just at this moment, too, the wind inopportunely freshened, rendering the drift of the light-craft much more rapid than certain. Feeling the impossibility of preventing a contact with the land, the young man wisely determined not to heat himself with unnecessary exertions. But first looking to the priming of his piece, he proceeded slowly and warily towards the point, taking care to make a little circuit that he might be exposed on only one side as he approached. The canoe adrift being directed by no such intelligence pursued its proper way and grounded on a small sunken rock, at the distance of three or four yards from the shore. Just at that moment, dear Slayer had got a breast of the point and turned the bowels of his own boat to the land. First casting loose his toe that his movements might be unencumbered. The canoe hung an instant to the rock. Then it rose a hare's breath on an almost imperceptible swell of the water, swung round, floated clear, and reached the strand. All this the young man noted, but it neither quickened his pulses nor hastened his hand. If any one had been lying in wait for the arrival of the wave, he must be seen, and the utmost caution in approaching the shore became indispensable. If no one was in ambush, hurry was unnecessary. The point being nearly diagonally opposite to the Indian encampment, he hoped the last, though the former was not only possible, but probable. The savages were prompt in adopting all the expedience of their particular modes of warfare, and quite likely had many scouts searching the shores for craft to carry them off to the castle. As a glance at the lake from any height or projection would expose the smallest object on its surface, there was little hope that either of the canoes would pass unseen, and Indian sagacity needed no instruction to tell which way a boat or a log would drift when the direction of the wind was known. As deer slayer drew nearer and nearer to the land, the stroke of his paddle grew slower. His eye became more watchful, and his ears and nostrils almost dilated with the effort to detect any lurking danger. It was a trying moment for a novice, nor was there the encouragement which even the timids sometimes feel when conscious of being observed and commended. He was entirely alone, thrown on his own resources, and was cheered by no friendly eye, emboldened by no encouraging voice. Notwithstanding all these circumstances, the most experienced veteran in forest warfare could not have behaved better. Equally free from recklessness and hesitation, his advance was marked by a sort of philosophical prudence that appeared to render him superior to all motives but those which were best calculated to effect his purpose. Such was the commencement of a career in forest exploits that afterwards rendered this man in his way and under the limits of his habits and opportunities, as renowned as many a hero whose name has adorned the pages of works more celebrated than legends simple as ours can ever become. When about a hundred yards from the shore, deer slayer rose in the canoe, gave three or four vigorous strokes with the paddle, sufficient of themselves to impel the bark to land, and then quickly laying aside the instrument of labor, he seized that of war. He was in the very act of raising the rifle when a sharp report was followed by the buzz of a bullet that passed so near his body as to cause him involuntarily to start. The next instant deer slayer staggered and fell his whole length in the bottom of the canoe. A yell, it came from a single voice, followed, and an Indian leaped from the bushes upon the open area of the point, bounding towards the canoe. This was the moment the young man desired. He rose on the instant and leveled his own rifle at his uncovered foe, but his finger hesitated about pulling the trigger on one whom he held at such a disadvantage. This little delay probably saved the life of the Indian, who bounded back into the cover as swiftly as he had broken out of it. In the meantime deer slayer had been swiftly approaching the land, and his own canoe reached the point just as his enemy disappeared. As its movements had not been directed, it touched the shore a few yards from the other boat, and though the rifle of his foe had to be loaded, there was not time to secure his prize and carry it beyond danger before he would be exposed to another shot. Under the circumstances, therefore, he did not pause an instant, but dashed into the woods and sought a cover. On the immediate point there was a small open area, partly in native grass and partly beach, but a dense fringe of bushes lined its upper side. This narrow belt of dwarf vegetation passed. One issued immediately into the high and gloomy vaults of the forest. The land was tolerably level for a few hundred feet, and then it rose precipitously in a mountainside. The trees were tall, large, and so free from underbrush that they resembled vast columns, irregularly scattered, upholding a dome of leaves. Although they stood tolerably close together for their ages and size, the eye could penetrate to considerable distances, and bodies of men, even, might have engaged beneath their cover with concert and intelligence. Dear Slayer knew that his adversary must be employed in reloading, unless he had fled. The former proved to be the case, for the young man had no sooner placed himself behind a tree than he caught a glimpse of the arm of the Indian, his body being concealed by an oak in the very act of forcing the leathered bullet home. Nothing would have been easier than to spring forward and decide the affair by a close assault on his unprepared foe, but every feeling of Dear Slayer revolted at such a step, although his own life had just been attempted from a cover. He was yet unpracticed in the ruthless expedience of savage warfare, of which he knew nothing except by tradition and theory, and he struck him as unfair advantage to a sale and unarmed foe. His color had heightened, his eye frowned, his lips were compressed, and all his energies were collected and ready, but instead of advancing to fire he dropped his rifle to the usual position of a sportsman, in readiness to catch his aim, and muttered to himself, unconscious that he was speaking. No, no, that may be red-skinned warfare, but it's not a Christian's gifts. Let the miscreant charge, and then we'll take it out like men, for the canoe he must not and shall not have. No, no, let him have time to load, and God will take care of the right. All this time the Indian had been so intent on his own movements that he was even ignorant that his enemy was in the woods, his only apprehension was that the canoe would be recovered and carried away before he might be in readiness to prevent it. He had sought the cover from habit, but he was within a few feet of the fringe of bushes and could be at the margin of the forest in readiness to fire in a moment. The distance between him and his enemy was about fifty yards, and the trees were so arranged by nature that the line of sight was not interrupted, except by the particular trees behind which each party stood. His rifle was no sooner loaded than the savage glanced around him, and advanced unconsciously as regarded the real, but stealthily as respected the fancied position of his enemy, until he was fairly exposed. One deerslayer stepped from behind its own cover, and hailed him. "'This away, Red-Scan! This away! If you're looking for me!" he called out. "'I'm young in war, but not so young as to stand on an open beach to be shot down like an owl by daylight. It rests on yourself whether it's peace or war or tweeness, for my gifts are white gifts, and I'm not one of them that thinks it valiant to slay human mortals singly in the woods.' The savage was a good deal startled by this sudden discovery of the danger he ran. He had a little knowledge of English, however, and caught the drift of the other's meaning. He was also too well schooled to betray alarm, but dropping the butt of his rifle to the earth, with an air of confidence, he made a gesture of lofty courtesy. All this was done with the ease and self-possession of one accustomed to consider no man his superior. In the midst of this consummate acting, however, the volcano that raged within caused his eyes to glare and his nostrils to dilate, like those of some wild beast that is suddenly prevented from taking the fatal leap. "'Two canoes!' he said in the deep guttural tones of his race, holding up the number of fingers he mentioned by way of preventing mistakes. "'One for you, one for me!' "'No, no, mingle, that will never do. You own neither, and neither shall you have as long as I can prevent it.' "'I know it's war between your people and mine, but that's no reason why human mortals should slay each other, like savage creatures that meet in the woods.  The world is large enough for us both, and when we meet fairly in battle, why the Lord will order the fate of each of us.' "'Good!' exclaimed the Indian, my brother Missionary, great talk. All about Manitou.' "'Not so, not so, warrior. I'm not good enough for the Moravians, and am too good for most of the other vagabonds that preach about in the woods. No, no, I'm only a hunter, as yet.  Still, I wish it to be done in fair fight, and not in a quarrel about the ownership of a miserable canoe.' "'Good! My brother very young, but he is very wise. Little warrior, great talker, chief sometimes in counsel. I don't know this, nor do I say it, Injun, returned dear slayer, coloring a little at the ill-concealed sarcasm of the other's manner. I look forward to a life in the woods, and I only hope it may be a peaceable one. All young men must go on the war-path when there's occasion. But war isn't needfully massacre. I've seen enough of the last, this very night, to know that Providence frowns on it, and I now invite you to go your own way while I go mine, and hope that we may part friends. Good! My brother has two scalp, gray hair under other. Old wisdom, young tongue.' Here the savage advanced with confidence, his hand extended, his face smiling, and his whole bearing denoting amity and respect. Dear slayer met his offered friendship in a proper spirit, and they shook hands cordially, each endeavoring to assure the other of his sincerity and desire to be at peace. All have his own, said the Indian. My canoe mine, your canoe yarn. Go look, if yarn you keep, if mine I keep. That's just red skin, though you must be wrong in thinking the canoe your property. However, seeing is believing, and we'll go down to the shore where you may look with your own eyes, for it's likely you'll object to trust in altogether to mine. The Indian uttered his favorite exclamation of Good, and then they walked side by side towards the shore. There was no apparent distrust in the manner of either, the Indian moving in advance as if he wished to show his companion that he did not fear turning his back to him. As they reached the open ground, the former pointed towards dear slayer's boat, and said emphatically, No mine, pale-faced canoe. This red man's. No want other man's canoe. Want his own. You're wrong, red skin, you're altogether wrong. This canoe was left in old hutters' keeping, and is hisn according to law red or white, till its owner comes to claim it. Here's the seats and the stitching of the bark to speak for themselves. No man ever knowed an engine to turn off such work. Good, my brother little old, big wisdom. Engine no make him. White man's work. I'm glad you think so, for holding out to the contrary, might have made ill blood between us, everyone having a right to take possession of his own. I'll just shove the canoe out of reach of dispute at once as the quickest way of settling difficulties. While dear slayer was speaking he put a foot against the end of the light boat, and giving a vigorous shove he sent it out into the lake a hundred feet or more, where, taking the true current, it would necessarily float past the point and be in no further danger of coming ashore. The savage started at this ready and decided expedient, and his companion saw that he cast a hurried and fierce glance at his own canoe, or that which contained the paddles. The change of manner, however, was but momentary, and then the air resumed his air of friendliness and a smile of satisfaction. Good! he repeated with stronger emphasis than ever. Young head, old mind, know how to settle quarrel. Farewell, brother. He go to house in water muskrat house. Engine go to camp. Tell chiefs no find canoe. Dear slayer was not sorry to hear this proposal, for he felt anxious to join the females, and he took the offered hand of the Indian very willingly. The parting words were friendly, and while the red man walked calmly towards the wood, with the rifle in the hollow of his arm, without once looking back in uneasiness or distrust, the white man moved towards the remaining canoe, carrying his peace in the same Pacific manner. It is true. But keeping his eye fastened on the movements of the other. This distrust, however, seemed to be altogether uncalled for, and as if ashamed to have entertained it, the young man averted his look and stepped carelessly up to his boat. Here he began to push the canoe from the shore and to make his other preparations for departing. He might have been thus employed a minute when happening to turn his face towards the land. His quick and certain eye told him, at a glance, the imminent jeopardy in which his life was placed. The black ferocious eyes of the savage were glancing on him, like those of the crouching tiger, through a small opening in the bushes, and the muzzle of his rifle seemed already to be opening in a line with his own body. Then indeed the long practice of deer slayer, as a hunter, did him good service. A custom to fire with the deer on the bound, and often when the precise position of the animal's body had in a manner to be guessed at, he used the same expedience here.  Then aiming almost without sighting, he fired into the bushes where he knew a body ought to be, in order to sustain the appalling countenance which alone was visible. There was not time to raise the peace any higher, or to take a more deliberate aim. So rapid were his movements that both parties discharged their pieces at the same instant, the concussions mingling in one report. The mountains indeed gave back but a single echo. Deer slayer dropped his piece, and stood with head erect, steady as one of the pines in the calm of a June morning, watching the result. While the savage gave the yell that has become historical for its appalling influence, leaped through the bushes, and came bounding across the open ground, flourishing a tomahawk. Still deer slayer moved not, but stood with his unloaded rifle fallen against his shoulders. While with the hunter's habits his hands were mechanically feeling for the powderhorn and charger. When about forty feet from his enemy, the savage hurled his keen weapon, but it was with an eye so vacant, and a hand so unsteady and feeble, that the young man caught it by the handle as it was flying past him. That instant the Indians staggered and fell his whole length on the ground. I knowed it, I knowed it, exclaimed Deer Slayer, who was already preparing to force a fresh bullet into his rifle. I knowed it must come to this as soon as I had got the range from the creature's eyes. A man sighed suddenly and fires quick when his own life's in danger. Yes, I knowed it would come to this. I was about the hundredth part of a second too quick for him, or it might have been bad for me. The reptile's bullet has just grazed my side, but say what you will for Oregonum. A red skin is by no means as sardim with powder and ball as a white man. Their gifts don't seem to lie that away. Even Chingach Cook, great as he is in other matters, isn't downright deadly with the rifle. By this time the peace was reloaded, and Deer Slayer after tossing the tomahawk into the canoe advanced to his victim and stood over him leaning on his rifle in melancholy attention. It was the first instance in which he had seen a man fall in battle. It was the first fellow creature against whom he had ever seriously raised his own hand. The sensations were novel, and regret with the freshness of our better feelings mingled with his triumph. The Indian was not dead, though shot directly through the body. He lay on his back motionless, but his eyes, now full of consciousness, watched each action of his victor as the fallen bird regards the foul or jealous of every movement.  Deer Slayer read his thoughts, and he found a melancholy satisfaction in relieving the apprehensions of the helpless savage. No, no, Red Skin, he said, you've nothing more to fear for me. I am of a Christian stock, and scalping is not of my gifts.  Though here I can't stay much longer, as the crack of three rifles will be apt to bring some of your devils down upon me. The close of this was set in a sort of a soliloquy, as the young man went in quest of the fallen rifle. The peace was found where its owner had dropped it, and was immediately put into the canoe. Laying his own rifle at its side, Deer Slayer then returned and stood over the Indian again. All in matee, between you and me, is at an end, Red Skin, he said, and you may set your heart at rest on the score of the scalp, or any further injury. My gifts are white, as I've told you, and I hope my conduct will be white also. Could looks have conveyed all they meant, it is probable that Deer Slayer's innocent vanity on the subject of color would have been rebuked a little. But he comprehended the gratitude that was expressed in the eyes of the dying savage, without in the least detecting the bitter sarcasm that struggled with the better feeling. Water! ejaculated the thirsty and unfortunate creature. Give poor Injun water. Aye, water you shall have, if you drink the lake dry. I'll just carry you down to it that you may take your fill. This is the way, they tell me, with all wounded people, water is their greatest comfort and delight. So saying, Deer Slayer raised the Indian in his arms and carried him to the lake. Here he first helped him to take an attitude in which he could appease his burning thirst, after which he seated himself on a stone and took the head of his wounded adversary in his own lap and endeavored to soothe his anguish in the best manner he could. It would be sinful in me to tell you your time hadn't come, warrior. He commenced. And therefore I'll not say it. You've passed the Middle Age already, and considering the sort of lives you lead, your days have been pretty well filled. The principal thing now is to look forward to what comes next. Neither red skin nor pale face on the whole calculates much on sleeping forever. But both expect to live in another world. Each has his gifts, and will be judged by him. And I suppose you've thought these matters over enough not to stand in need of sermons when the trial comes. You'll find your happy hunting grounds, if you've been a just Injun. If an unjust, you'll meet your deserts in another way. I have my own ideas about these things, but you're too old and experienced to need any explanations from one as young as I. Good! Ejaculated the Indian, whose voice retained its depth, even as life ebbed away. Young Head! Old Wisdom! It's sometimes a consolation when the end comes to know that then we've harmed or tried to harm, forgive us. I suppose nature seeks this relief by way of getting a pardon on earth. As we never can know whether he pardons, who is all in all, till judgment itself comes. It's soothing to know that any pardon at such times. And that, I conclude, is the secret.  First because no harm came of them. Next because it's your gifts, and nature, and training, and I ought not to have trusted you at all. And finally, and chiefly, because I can bear no ill will to a dying man, whether he then or Christian. So put your heart at ease, so far as I'm concerned. You know best what other matters ought to trouble you, or what ought to give you satisfaction in so trying a moment. It is probable that the Indian had some of the fearful glimpses of the unknown state of being which God in mercy seems at times to afford to all the human race, but they were necessarily in conformity with his habits and prejudices. Like most of his people, and like too many of our own, he thought more of dying in a way to gain applause among those he left than to secure a better state of existence hereafter. While dear Slayer was speaking, his mind was a little bewildered, though he felt that the intention was good. And when he had done, a regret passed over his spirit that none of his own tribe were present to witness his stoicism, under extreme bodily suffering, and the firmness with which he met his end. With the high innate courtesy that so often distinguishes the Indian warrior before he becomes corrupted by too much intercourse with the worst class of the white men, he endeavored to express his thankfulness for the other's good intentions, and to let him understand that they were appreciated. Good! he repeated, for this was an English word much used by the languages. Good! young head, young heart too, old heart tough, no shed tear. Here Indium when he die, and no want to lie, what he call him? Dear Slayer is the name I bear now, though the Delaware's have said that when I get back from this war-path I shall have a more manly title, provided I can earn one. That good name for boy, poor name for warrior. He get better quick. No fear there, the savage had strength sufficient under the strong excitement he felt, to raise a hand and tap the young man on his breast. I, Sarton, finger lightning, aim death. Great warrior soon. No dear Slayer. Hawkeye, Hawkeye, Hawkeye. Shake hand. Dear Slayer, or Hawkeye, as the youth was then first named. For in after years he bore the Appalachian throughout all that region. Dear Slayer took the hand of the savage, whose last breath was drawn in that attitude, gazing in admiration at the countenance of a stranger, who had shown so much readiness, skill, and firmness in a scene that was equally trying and novel. When the reader remembers it is the highest gratification an Indian can receive to see his enemy betray weakness, he will be better able to appreciate the conduct which had extorted so great a concession at such a moment. His spirit has fled, said dear Slayer, in a suppressed melancholy voice. As me. Well, to this we must all come sooner or later. And he is happiest, let his skin be what color it may, who is best fitted to meet it. Here lies the body of no doubt a brave warrior, and the soul is already flying towards its heaven or hell, whether that be a happy hunting-ground, a place scant of game, regions of glory, according to Moravian doctrine, or flames of fire. So it happens, too, as regards other matters. Here have old Hutter and hurry Harry got themselves into difficulty, if they haven't got themselves into torment and death, and all for a bounty that luck offers to me in what many would think a lawful and suitable manner. But not a farthing of such money shall cross my hand. Great I was born, and white will I die, clinging to color to the last, even though the king's majesty, his governors, and all his councils, both at home and in the colonies, forget from what they come, and where they hope to go, and all for a little advantage in warfare. No. No, warrior, hand of mine shall never molest your scalp, and so your soul may rest in peace on the pint of making a decent appearance when the body comes to join it in your own land of spirits. Dear Slayer arose as soon as he had spoken. Then he placed the body of the dead man in a sitting posture with its back against the little rock, taking the necessary care to prevent it from falling or in any way settling into an attitude that might be thought unseemly by the sensitive, though wild notions of a savage. When this duty was performed, the young man stood gazing at the grim countenance of his fallen foe. In a sort of melancholy abstraction, as was his practice, however, a habit gained by living so much alone in the forest, he then began again to give utterance to his thoughts and feelings aloud. I didn't wish your life, Red Skin, he said, but you left me no choice between killing or being killed. Each party acted according to his gifts, I suppose, and blame can light on neither. You were treacherous according to your nature in war, and I was a little oversightful, as I'm apt to be in trusting others. Well, this is my first battle with a human mortal, though it's not likely to be the last. I have fought most of the creatures of the forest, such as bears, wolves, painters, and catamounts. But this is the beginning with the Red Skins. If I was engine-born now, I might tell of this, or carry in the scalp, and boast of the exploit before the whole tribe. Or if my enemy had only been even a bear, it would have been natural and proper to let everybody know what had happened. But I don't well see how I am to let even Chingichuk into this secret, so long as it can be done only by boasting with a white tongue. And why should I wish to boast of it, after all? It's slaying a human, although he was a savage, and how do I know that he was a just engine, and that he has not been taken away suddenly to anything but happy hunting grounds? When it's uncertain whether good or evil has been done, the wisest way is not to be boastful. Still, I should like Chingichuk to know that I haven't discredited the Delaware's, or my training. Part of this was uttered aloud, while part was merely muttered between the speaker's teeth, his more confident opinions enjoying the first advantage while his doubts were expressed in the latter mode. So Lilac weaned reflection received a startling interruption, however, by the sudden appearance of a second Indian on the lake shore, a few hundred yards from the point. This man, evidently another scout, who had probably been drawn to the place by the reports of the rifles, broke out of the forest with so little caution that Dearslayer caught a view of his person before he was himself discovered. When the latter event did occur, as was the case a moment later, the savage gave a loud yell, which was answered by a dozen voices from different parts of the mountainside. There was no longer any time for delay. In another minute the boat was quitting the shore under long and steady sweeps of the paddle. As soon as Dearslayer believed himself to be at a safe distance he ceased his efforts, permitting the little bark to drift while he leisurely took a survey of the state of things. The canoe first sent a drift was floating before the air, quite a quarter of a mile above him, and a little nearer to the shore than he wished, now that he knew more of the savages were so near at hand. The canoe shoved from the point was within a few yards of him, he having directed his own course towards it on quitting the land. The dead Indian lay in grim quiet where he had left him. The warrior, who had shown himself from the forest had already vanished, and the woods themselves were as silent and seemingly deserted as the day they came fresh from the hands of their great Creator. This profound stillness, however, lasted but a moment. When time had been given to the scouts of the anime to reconnoiter they burst out of the thicket upon the naked point, filling the air with yells of fury at discovering the death of their companion. These cries were immediately succeeded by shouts of delight when they reached the body and clustered eagerly around it. Dearslayer was a sufficient adept in the usages of the natives to understand the reason of the change. The yell was the customary lamentation at the loss of a warrior, the shout a sign of rejoicing that the conqueror had not been able to secure the scalp. The trophy, without which a victory is never considered complete. The distance at which the canoes lay probably prevented any attempts to injure the conqueror, the American Indian, like the panther of his own woods, seldom making any effort against his foe, unless tolerably certain it is under circumstances that may be expected to prove effective. As the young man had no longer any motive to remain near the point, he prepared to collect his canoes in order to tow them off to the castle. That nearest was soon in tow, when he proceeded in quest of the other, which was all this time floating up the lake. The eye of Dearslayer was no sooner fastened on this last boat, than it struck him that it was nearer to the shore than it would have been had it merely followed the course of the gentle current of air. He began to suspect the influence of some unseen current in the water, and he quickened his exertions in order to regain possession of it before it could drift into a dangerous proximity to the woods. On getting nearer, he thought that the canoe had a perceptible motion through the water, and as it lay broadside to the air that this motion was taking it towards the land. A few vigorous strokes of the paddle carried him still nearer, when the mystery was explained. Everything was evidently in motion on the offside of the canoe, or that which was farthest from himself, and closer scrutiny showed that it was a naked human arm. An Indian was lying in the bottom of the canoe and was propelling it slowly but certainly to the shore, using his hand as a paddle. Dearslayer understood the whole artifice at a glance. A savage had swum off to the boat, while he was occupied with his enemy on the point. That possession, and was using these means to urge it to the shore. Satisfied that the man in the canoe could have no arms, Dearslayer did not hesitate to dash close alongside of the retiring boat, without deeming it necessary to raise his own rifle. As soon as the wash of the water which he made in approaching became audible to the prostrate savage, the latter sprang to his feet and uttered an exclamation that proved how completely he was taken by surprise. If you've enjoyed yourself enough in that canoe, red skin, Dearslayer coolly observed, stopping his own career in sufficient time to prevent an absolute collision between the two boats, if you've enjoyed yourself enough in that canoe, you'll do a prudent act by taking to the lake again. I'm reasonable in these matters, and don't crave your blood, though there's them that would look upon you more as a do-bill for the bounty than a human mortal. Take to the lake this minute, before we get to hot words. The savage was one of those who did not understand a word of English, and he was indebted to the gestures of Dearslayer and to the expression of an eye that did not often deceive, for an imperfect comprehension of his meaning. Perhaps too the sight of the rifle that lay so near the hand of the white man quickened his decision.  When he rose to take breath it was at the distance of several yards from the canoe, and the hasty glance he threw behind him denoted how much he feared the arrival of a fatal messenger from the rifle of his foe. But the young man made no indication of any hostile intention. Deliberately securing the canoe to the others he began to paddle from the shore, and by the time the Indian reached the land, and had shaken himself like a spaniel on quitting the water, his dreaded enemy was already beyond rifle-shot on his way to the castle. As was so much his practice, dear Slayer did not fail to soliloquise on what had just occurred, while steadily pursuing his course towards the point of destination. Well, well, he commenced.  Scalps are of no account with me, and life is sweet and ought not to be taken mercilessly by them that have white gifts. The savage was a mingo, it's true, and I make no doubt he is and will be as long as he lives, a rail, reptile, and vagabond. But that's no reason I should forget my gifts and colour. No, no, let him go. If ever we meet again, rifle in hand, why then it will be seen which has the stoutest heart and the quickest eye. Hawkeye! That's not a bad name for a warrior, sounding much more manful and valiant than dear Slayer. It wouldn't be a bad title to begin with, and it has been fairly earned. Just was chingach-gook now, he might go home in boast of his deeds and the chiefs would name him Hawkeye in a minute. But it don't become white blood to brag, and it isn't easy to see how the matter can be known unless I do. Well, well, everything is in the hands of Providence, this affair as well as another. I'll trust to that for getting my deserts in all things. Having thus betrayed what might be termed his weak spot, the young man continued to paddle in silence, making his way diligently and as fast as his toes would allow him towards the castle. By this time the sun had not only risen but it had appeared over the eastern mountains and was shedding a flood of glorious light on this as yet uncristened sheet of water. The whole scene was radiant with beauty, and no one unaccustomed to the ordinary history of the woods would fancy it had so lately witnessed incidents so ruthless and barbarous. As he approached the building of Old Hutter, Deerslayer thought or rather felt that its appearance was in singular harmony with all the rest of the scene. Although nothing had been consulted but strength and security, the rude, massive logs covered with their rough bark, the projecting roof, and the form would contribute to render the building picturesque in almost any situation, while its actual position added novelty and pecancy to its other points of interest. When Deerslayer drew nearer to the castle, however, objects of interest presented themselves that at once eclipsed any beauties that might have distinguished the scenery of the lake and the sight of the singular edifice. Judith and Hetty stood on the platform before the door, hurries doryard awaiting his approach with manifest anxiety. The former from time to time taking a survey of his person and of the canoes through the old ship Spyglass that has been already mentioned. Never probably did this girl seem more brilliantly beautiful than at that moment. The flush of anxiety and alarm increasing her color to its richest tints, while the softness of her eyes, a charm that even poor Hetty shared with her, was deepened by intense concern. Such at least without pausing or pretending to analyze motives, or to draw any other very nice distinction between cause and effect were the opinions of the young man as his canoes reached the side of the ark, where he carefully fastened all three before he put his foot on the platform. CHAPTER VIII. His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles, his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate, his tears pure messengers sent from his heart, his heart as far from fraud as heaven from earth. To gentlemen of Verona. Act II, scene VII. Lines 75 through 78. Neither of the girls spoke as dear Slayer stood before them alone, his countenance betraying all the apprehension he felt on account of two absent members of their party. Father! Judith at length exclaimed, succeeding in uttering the word as it might be by a desperate effort. He's met with misfortune, and there's no use in concealing it, answered dear Slayer in his direct and simple-minded manner. He and hurry are in mingle hands, and heaven only knows what's to be determination. I've got the canoes safe, and that's a consolation since the vagabonds will have to swim for it, or raft off to come near this place. That sunset will be reinforced by Chingichuk if I can manage to get him into a canoe. And then I think we too can answer for the ark and the castle till some of the officers and the garrisons hear of this warpath, which sooner or later must be the case when we may look for succour from that quarter if from no other. The officers exclaimed Judith impatiently, her color deepening and her eye expressing a lively but passing emotion. Who thinks or speaks of the heartless gallants now? We are sufficient of ourselves to defend the castle. But what of my father and a poor hurry, Harry? It is natural you should feel this concern for your own parent, Judith, and I suppose it's equally so that you should feel it for hurry, Harry, too. Dear Slayer then commenced a succinct but clear narrative of all that occurred during the night in no manner concealing what had befallen his two companions, or his own opinion of what might prove to be the consequences. The girls listened with profound attention, but neither portrayed that feminine apprehension and concern which would have followed such a communication when made to those who were less accustomed to the hazards and accidents of a frontier life. To the surprise of dear Slayer, Judith seemed the most distressed, had he listening eagerly but appearing to brood over the facts in melancholy silence, rather than betraying any outward signs of feeling. The former's agitation, the young man did not fail to attribute to the interests she felt in hurry quite as much as to her filial love, while Heddy's apparent indifference was ascribed to that mental darkness which in a measure obscured her intellect and which possibly prevented her from foreseeing all the consequences. Little was said, however, by either. Judith and her sister busying themselves in making the preparations for the morning meal, as they who habitually attend to such matters toil on mechanically, even in the midst of suffering and sorrow. The plain but nutritious breakfast was eaten by all three in somber silence, but dear Slayer gave proof of possessing one material requisite of a good soldier, that of preserving his appetite in the midst of the most alarming and embarrassing circumstances. The meal was nearly ended before a syllable was uttered. Then, however, Judith spoke in the convulsive and hurried manner in which feeling breaks through restraint, after the latter has become more painful than even the betrayal of emotion. Father would have relished this fish, she exclaimed. He says the salmon of the lakes is almost as good as the salmon of the sea. Your father has been acquainted with the sea, they tell me, Judith, returned the young man, who could not forebear throwing a glance of inquiry at the girl. For in common with all who knew hudder, he had some curiosity on the subject of his early history. Hurry, Harry tells me he was once a sailor. Judith first looked perplexed, then influenced by feelings that were novel to her, in more ways than one, she became suddenly communicative and seemingly much interested in the discourse. If hurry knows anything of father's history, I would he had told it to me, she cried. Sometimes I think, too, he was once a sailor, and then again I think he was not. If that chest were open, or if it could speak, it might let us into his whole history, but its fastenings are too strong to be broken like pack-thread. Dear Slayer turned to the chest in question, and for the first time examined it closely, although discolored and bearing proofs of having received much ill treatment, he saw that it was of materials and workmanship altogether superior to anything of the same sort he had ever before beheld. The wood was dark, rich, and had once been highly polished, though the treatment it had received left little gloss on its surface, and various scratches and indentations proved the rough collisions it had encountered with substances still harder than itself. The corners were firmly bound with steel, elaborately and richly wrought, while the locks of which it had no less than three, and the hinges were of a fashion and workmanship that would have attracted attention even in a warehouse of curious furniture. This chest was quite large, and when Dear Slayer arose and endeavored to raise and end by its massive handle, he found that the weight fully corresponded with the external appearance. Did you never see that chest opened, Judith? The young man demanded with frontier freedom, for delicacy on such subjects was little felt among the people on the verge of civilization in that age, even if it be to-day. Never! Father has never opened it in my presence. If he ever opens it at all. No one here has ever seen its lid raised, unless it be father. Nor do I even know that he has ever seen it. Now you're wrong, Judith, had he quietly answered. Father has raised the lid, and I've seen him do it. A feeling of manliness kept the mouth of Dear Slayer shut. For while he would not have hesitated about going far beyond what would be thought the bounds of propriety in questioning the older sister, he had just scruples about taking what might be thought an advantage of the feeble intellect of the younger, Judith being under no such restraint, however, turned quickly to the last speaker and continued the discourse. When and where did you ever see that chest opened, had he? Here and again and again. Father often opens it when you are away, though he don't in the least mind by being by and seeing all he does, as well as hearing all he says. And what is it that he does, and what does he say? That I cannot tell you, Judith, return the other in a low but resolute voice. Father's secrets are not my secrets. Secrets. This is stranger still, Dear Slayer, that father should tell them to Hetty, and not tell them to me. There's a good reason for that, Judith, though you're not to know it. Father's not here to answer for himself, and I'll say no more about it. Judith and Dear Slayer looked surprised, and for a minute the first seemed pained, but suddenly recollecting herself she turned away from her sister as if in pity for her weakness and addressed the young man. You've told but half your story, she said, breaking off at the place where you went to sleep in the canoe, or rather where you rose to listen to the cry of the loon. We heard the call of the loons, too, and thought their cries might bring a storm, though we are little used to tempests on this lake at this season of the year. The winds blow and the tempests howl as God pleases. Sometimes at one season and sometimes at another answered Dear Slayer, and the loons speak according to their nature. Better would it be if men were as honest and frank. After I rose to listen to the birds finding it could not be hurry's signal, I lay down and slept. When the day dawned, I was up and stirring as usual, and then I went in chase of the two canoes, lest the mingles should lay hands on them. You have not told us all, Dear Slayer, said Judith earnestly. We heard rifles under the eastern mountain. The echoes were full and long, and came so soon after the reports that the pieces must have been fired on or quite near to the shore. Our ears are used to these signs, and are not to be deceived. They've done their duty, gal, this time, yes, they've done their duty. Rifles have been sighted this morning, I, and triggers pull too, though not as often as they might have been. One warrior has gone to his happy hunting grounds, and that's the whole of it.  Judith listened almost breathlessly, and when Dear Slayer, in his quiet modest manner, seemed disposed to quit the subject, she rose and crossing the room took a seat by his side. The manner of the girl had nothing forward about it, though it betrayed the quick instinct of a female's affection and the sympathizing kindness of a woman's heart. She even took the hard hand of the hunter, and pressed it in both her own, unconsciously to herself, perhaps, while she looked earnestly and even reproachfully into his sunburnt face. You had been fighting the savages, Dear Slayer, singly and by yourself, she said. In your wish to take care of us, of Hetty, of me, perhaps, you fought the enemy bravely, with no eye to encourage your deeds or to witness your fall, had it pleased Providence to suffer so great a calamity. I've fought, Judith, yes. I have fought the enemy, and that too, for the first time in my life. These things must be, and they bring with them a mixed feeling of sorrow and triumph. Human nature is a fighting nature, I suppose, as all nations kill in battle, and we must be true to our rites and gifts. What has yet been done is no great matter, but should Chingich could come to the rock this evening, as is agreed between us, and I get him off at unbeknown to the savages, or if known to them again their wishes and designs, then may we all look to something like warfare, or for the mingle-shell get possession of either the castle, or the ark, or yourselves. Who is this Chingich Cook? From what place does he come, and why does he come here? The questions are natural and right, I suppose, though the youth has a great name already in his own part of the country. Chingich Cook is a Mohican by blood, consorting with the Delaware's by usage, as is the case with most of his tribe, which has long been broken by the increase of our color. He is of the family of the great chiefs, Unkas, his father, having been the considerablest warrior and counselor of his people, even old Taminand, honors Chingich Cook, though he is thought to be yet too young to lead in war. And then the nation is so dispersed and diminished that chieftainship among them has got to be little more than a name. Now this war having commenced in earnest, the Delaware and I rendezvoused an appointment to meet this evening at sunset on the rendezvous rock at the foot of this very lake, intending to come out on our first hostile expedition again the mingles. Why we come exactly this away is our own secret, but thoughtful young men on the warpath, as you may suppose, do nothing without a calculation and a design. A Delaware can have no unfriendly intentions toward us, said Judith. It is hesitation, and we know you to be friendly. Treachery is the last crime I hope to be accused of, returned dear Slayer, hurt at the gleam of distrust that had shot through Judith's mind, and least of all treachery to my own color. No one suspects you, dear Slayer, the girl impetuously cried, No. No. Your honest countenance would be sufficient surety for the truth of a thousand hearts. If all men had his honest tongues, and no more promised what they did not mean to perform, there would be less wrong done in the world, and fine feathers and scarlet cloaks would not be excuses for baseness and deception. The girl spoke with strong, nay, even with convulsed feeling, and her fine eyes, usually so soft and alluring, flashed fire as she concluded. Dear Slayer could not but observe this extraordinary emotion, but with the tact of a courtier, he avoided not only any illusion to this circumstance, but succeeded in concealing the effect of his discovery on himself. Judith gradually grew calm again, and as she was obviously anxious to appear to advantage in the eyes of the young man, she was soon able to renew the conversation as composedly as if nothing had occurred to disturb her. I have no right to look into your secrets, or the secrets of your friend, dear Slayer, she continued, and I am ready to take all you say untrust. If we can really get another male ally to join us at this trying moment, it will aid us much, and I am not without hope that when the savages find that we are able to keep the lake, they will offer to give up their prisoners in exchange for skins, or at least for the keg of powder that we have in the house. The young man had the words, scalps, and bounty on his lips, but a reluctance to alarm the feelings of the daughters prevented him from making the illusion he had intended to the provable fate of their father.  I understand what you mean, she continued hurriedly, and what you would say, but for the fear of hurting me, as I mean, for had he loves her father quite as well as I do. But this is not as we think of Indians. They never scalp an unhurt prisoner, but would rather take him away alive, unless indeed the fierce wish for torturing should get the mastery of them. I fear nothing for my father's scalp and little for his life. Could they steal on us in the night we should all probably suffer in this way? But men taken in open strife are seldom injured, not at least until the time of torture comes. That's tradition, I'll allow, and it's according to practice. But Judith, do you know the errand on which your father and hurry went again the savages? I do, and a cruel errand it was. But what will you have? Men will be men, and some even that flaunt in their gold and silver and carry the King's commission in their pockets are not guiltless of equal cruelty. Judith sigh again flashed, but by a desperate struggle she resumed her composure. I get warm when I think of all the wrong that men do, she added, affecting to smile an effort in which she only succeeded indifferently well. All this is silly. What is done is done, and it cannot be mended by complaints, but the Indians think so little of the shedding of blood, and value men so much for the boldness of their undertakings that, did they know the business on which their prisoners came, they would be more likely to honor than to injure them for it. For a time, Judith, yes, I allow that, for a time. But when that feeling dies away, then will come the love of revenge. We must endeavor, Chingochuk and I, we must endeavor to see what we can do to get hurry and your father free, for the mingles will no doubt hover about this lake some days in order to make the most of their success. You think this Delaware can be depended on, dear Slayer, demanded the girl thoughtfully? As much as I can myself. You say you do not suspect me, Judith? You, taking his hand again and pressing it between her own with a warmth that might have awakened the vanity of one less simple minded and more disposed to dwell in his own good qualities, I would as soon suspect a brother. I have known you but a day, dear Slayer, but it has awakened the confidence of a year. Your name, however, is not unknown to me, for the gallants of the garrisons frequently speak of the lessons you have given them in hunting, and all proclaim your honesty. Do they ever talk of the shooting, gal, inquired the other eagerly, after a however laughing in a silent but heartfelt manner? Do they ever talk of the shooting? I want to hear nothing about my own, for if that isn't satisfied by this time, in all these parts, there's little use in being skillful and sure. But what do the officers say of their own? Yes, what do they say of their own? Arms, as they call it, is their trade, and yet there's some among them that know very little how to use them. Such I hope will not be the case with your friend Chingich Cook, as you call him. What is the English of his Indian name? Big Sarpent. So call for his wisdom and cunning. Unkas is his real name. All his family being called Unkas until they get a title that has been ironed by deeds. If he has all this wisdom, we may expect a useful friend in him, unless his own business in this part of the country should prevent him from serving us. I see no great harm in telling you who is ironed, after all, and as you may find means to help us, I will let you and Hetty into the whole matter, trusting that you'll keep the secret as if it was your own. You must know that Chingich Cook is a comely engine, and is much looked upon and admired by the young women of his tribe, both on account of his family and on account of himself. Now there is a chief that has a daughter called Watawa, which is interpreted into histo-hist, in the English tongue, the rarest gal among the Delaware's, and the one most sought at her and craved for a wife by all the young warriors of the nation. Well Chingich Cook, among others, took a fancy to Watawa, and Watawa took a fancy to him. Their deerslayer paused an instant, for as he got thus far in his tail Hetty had her arose, approached, and stood attentive at his knee, as a child draws near to listen to the legends of its mother. Yes, he fancied her, and she fancied him, resumed deerslayer, casting a friendly and approving glance at the innocent and interested girl. And when that is the case, and all the elders are agreed, it does not often happen that the young couple keep apart. Chingich Cook couldn't well carry off such a prize without making enemies among them that wanted her as much as he did himself. A sartan brier-thorn, as we call him in English, or Yocaman, as he is termed an engine, took it most to heart, and we must trust him of having a hand in all that followed. Watawa went with her father and mother two moons ago to fish for salmon on the western streams, where it is agreed by all in these parts that fish most abounds. And while thus implied the gal vanished. For several weeks we could get no tidings of her, but here ten days since a runner that came through the Delaware country brought us a message by which we learned that Watawa was stolen from her people, we think, but do not know it, by brier-thorn's circumventions, and that she was now with the enemy, who had adopted her and wanted her to marry a young mingo. The message said that the party intended to hunt and forage through the region for a month or two before it went back into the Canadas, and that if we could contrive to get on a scent in this quarter, something might turn up that would lead to our getting the maiden off. And how does that concern you, dear slayer, demanded Judith a little anxiously? It concerns me as all things that touches a friend concerns a friend. I'm here as Chingoch-Gook's aid and helper, and if we can get the young maiden he likes back again, it will give me almost as much pleasure as if I had got back my own sweetheart. And where, then, is your sweetheart, dear slayer? She's in the forest, Judith, hanging from the boughs of the trees, in a soft rain, in the dew on the open grass, the clouds that float about in the blue heavens, the birds that sing in the woods, the sweet springs where I slake my thirst, and in all the other glorious gifts that come from God's providence. You mean that, as yet, you've never loved one of my sex, but love best your haunts and your own manner of life. That's it. That's just it. I am white, have a white heart, and can't in reason love a red-skinned maiden, who must have a red-skinned heart and feelings. No, no, I'm sound enough in them particulars, and hope to remain so, at least till this war is over. I find my time too much taken up with Chingoch-Gook's affair, to wish to have one of my own in my hands, before that is settled. The girl that finally wins you, dear slayer, will at least win an honest heart, one without treachery or guile, and that will be a victory that most of her sex ought to envy. As Judith uttered this, her beautiful face had a resentful frown on it, while a bitter smile lingered around a mouth that no derangement of the muscles could render anything but handsome. Her companion observed the change, and though little skilled in the workings of the female heart, he had sufficient native delicacy to understand that it might be well to drop the subject. As the hour when Chingoch-Gook was expected still remained distant, dear slayer had time enough to examine into the state of the defences, and to make such additional arrangements as were in his power, and the exigency of the moment seemed to require. The experience and foresight of Hutter had left little to be done in these particulars. Still, several precautions suggested themselves to the young man, who may be said to have studied the art of frontier warfare through the traditions and legends of the people among whom he had so long lived. The distance between the castle and the nearest point on the shore prevented any apprehension on the subject of rifle bullets thrown from the land. The house was within musket-shot, in one sense, it was true, but aim was entirely out of the question, and even Judith professed a perfect disregard of any danger from that source. So long then, as the party remained in possession of the fortress, they were safe, unless their assailants could find the means to come off and carry it by fire or storm or by some of the devices of Indian cunning and Indian treachery. Against the first source of danger, Hutter had made ample provision, and the building itself the bark-roof accepted was not very combustible. The floor was scuttled in several places, and buckets provided with ropes were in daily use, in readiness for any such emergency. One of the girls could easily extinguish any fire that might be lighted, provided it had not time to make much headway. Judith, who appeared to understand all her father's schemes of defense and who had the spirit to take no unimportant share in the execution of them, explained all these details to the young man, who was thus saved much time and labor in making his investigations. Little was to be apprehended during the day. In possession of the canoes and of the ark, no other vessel was to be found on the lake. Nevertheless, dear Slayer well knew that a raft was soon made, and as dead trees were to be found in abundance near the water, did the savages seriously contemplate the risks of an assault, it would not be a very difficult matter to find the necessary means. The celebrated American axe, a tool that is quite unrivaled in its way, was then not very extensively known, and the savages were far from expert in the use of its hatchet-like substitute. Still, they had sufficient practice in crossing streams by this mode to render it certain they would construct a raft should they deem it expedient to expose themselves to the risks of an assault. The death of their warrior might prove a sufficient incentive, or it might act as a caution, but dear Slayer thought it more than possible that the succeeding night would bring matters to a crisis, and in this precise way. This impression caused him to wish ardently for the presence and sucker of his Mohican friend, and to look forward to the approach of sunset with an increased anxiety. As the day advanced, the party in the castle matured their plans and made their preparations. Judith was active and seemed to find a pleasure in consulting and advising with her new acquaintance, whose indifference to danger, manly devotion to herself and sister, guilelessness of manner, and truth of feeling, had won rapidly on both her imagination and her affections. Although the hours appeared long in some respects to dear Slayer, Judith did not find them so. And when the sun began to descend towards the pine-clad summits of the western hills, she felt and expressed her surprise that the day should so soon be drawing to a close. On the other hand, had he was moody and silent. She was never loquacious, or if she occasionally became communicative it was under the influence of some temporary excitement that served to arouse her unsophisticated mind. But for hours at a time, in the course of this all-important day, she seemed to have absolutely lost the use of her tongue, nor did apprehension on account of her father materially affect the manner of either sister. Slayer appeared seriously to dread any evil greater than captivity, and once or twice, when head he did speak, she intimated the expectation that Hutter would find the means to liberate himself. Although Judith was less sanguine on this head, she too betrayed the hope that propositions for a ransom would come when the Indians discovered that the castle set their expedience and artifices at defiance. Dear Slayer, however, treated these passing suggestions as the ill-digested fancies of girls, making his own arrangements as steadily and brooding over the future as seriously as if they had never fallen from their lips. At length the hour arrived when it became necessary to proceed to the place of rendezvous appointed with the Mohican, or Delaware, as Chingochuk was more commonly called. As the plan had been matured by Dear Slayer and fully communicated to his companions, all three set about its execution in concert, and intelligently. Head he passed into the ark, and fastening two of the canoes together she entered one, and paddled up to a sort of gateway in the palisados that surrounded the building, through which she carried both, securing them beneath the house by chains that were fastened within the building. These palisados were trunks of trees driven firmly into the mud and served the double purpose of a small enclosure that was intended to be used in this very manner, and to keep any enemy that might approach in boats at arm's length. Canoes thus docked where, in a measure, hid from sight, and as the gate was properly barred and fastened it would not be an easy task to remove them, even in the event of their being seen. Previously, however, to closing the gate, Judith also entered within the enclosure with the third canoe, leaving Dear Slayer busy in securing the door and windows inside the building over her head. As everything was massive and strong and small saplings were used as bars, it would have been the work of an hour or two to break into the building, when Dear Slayer had ended his task, even allowing the assailants the use of any tools but the acts, and to be unresisted. This attention to security arose from hudders having been robbed once or twice by the lawless whites of the frontiers, during some of his many absences from home. As soon as all was fastened the inside of the dwelling, Dear Slayer appeared at a trap, from which he descended into the canoe of Judith. When this was done he fastened the door with a massive staple and stout padlock. Head he was then received in the canoe, which was shoved outside of the palisados. The next precaution was to fasten the gate, and the keys were carried into the ark. The three were now fastened out of the dwelling which could only be entered by violence, or by following the course taken by the young man and quitting it. The glass had been brought outside as a preliminary step, and Dear Slayer next took a careful survey of the entire shore of the lake as far as his own position would allow. Not a living thing was visible. A few birds accepted, and even the last fluttered about in the shades of the trees as if unwilling to encounter the heat of a sultry afternoon. All the nearest points in particular were subjected to severe scrutiny in order to make certain that no raft was in preparation. The result everywhere giving the same picture of calm solitude. A few words will explain the greatest embarrassment belonging to the situation of our party. Exposed themselves to the observation of any watchful eyes, the movements of their enemies were concealed by the drapery of a dense forest. While the imagination would be very apt to peeple the latter with more warriors than it really contained, their own weakness must be too apparent to all who might chance to cast a glance in their direction. Nothing is stirring, house-ever, exclaimed Dear Slayer, as he finally lowered the glass and prepared to enter the ark. If the vagabonds do harbor mischief in their minds they are too cunning to let it be seen. It's true, a raft may be in preparation in the woods, but it has not yet been brought down to the lake. They can't guess that we are about to quit the castle, and, if they did, they've no means of knowing where we intend to go. This is so true, Dear Slayer, returned Judith, that now all is ready we may proceed at once, boldly, and without the fear of being followed. Else we shall be behind our time. No, no, the matter needs management. For though the savages are in the dark as to Chingoch Cook and the rock, they've eyes and legs and will see in what direction we steer and will be certain to follow us. I shall strive to baffle them, house-ever, by heading the scow in all manner of ways, first in one quarter and then in another, until they get to be a leg weary and tired of tramping aterus. So far as it was in his power, Dear Slayer was as good as his word. In less than five minutes after this speech was made the whole party was in the ark, and in motion. There was a gentle breeze from the north, and boldly hoisting the sail the young man laid the head of the unwieldy craft in such a direction as, after making a liberal but necessary allowance for leeway, would have brought it ashore a couple of miles down the lake. And on its eastern side. The sailing of the ark was never very swift, though floating as it did on the surface, it was not difficult to get it in motion or to urge it along over the water at the rate of some three or four miles in the hour. The distance between the castle and the rock was a little more than two leagues. Knowing the punctuality of an Indian, Dear Slayer had made his calculations closely, and had given himself a little more time than was necessary to reach the place of rendezvous. With a view to delay or to press his arrival, as might prove most expedient. When he hoisted the sail the sun lay above the western hills at an elevation that promised rather more than two hours of day, and a few minutes satisfied him that the progress of the scow was such as to equal his expectations. It was a glorious June afternoon, and never did that solitary sheet of water seem less like an arena of strife and bloodshed. The light air scarce descended as low as the bed of the lake, hovering over it as if unwilling to disturb its deep tranquillity, or to ruffle its mirror-like surface. Even the forests appeared to be slumbering in the sun, and a few piles of fleecy clouds had lain for hours along the northern horizon like fixtures in the atmosphere. Placed there purely to embellish the scene, a few aquatic fowls occasionally skimmed along the water, and a single raven was visible sailing high above the trees, and keeping a watchful eye on the forest beneath him, in order to detect anything having life that the mysterious woods might offer as prey. The reader will probably have observed that amidst the frankness and abruptness of manner which marked the frontier habits of Judith, her language was superior to that used by her male companions, her own father included. This difference extended as well to pronunciation as to the choice of words and phrases. Perhaps nothing so soon betrays the education and association as the modes of speech. And few accomplishments so much aid the charm of female beauty as a graceful and even utterance, while nothing so soon produces the disenchantment that necessarily follows a discrepancy between appearance and manner, as a mean intonation of voice or a vulgar use of words. Judith and her sister were marked exceptions to all the girls of their class, along that whole frontier. The officers of the nearest garrison having often flattered the former with the belief that few ladies of the towns acquitted themselves better than herself, in this important particular. This was far from being literally true, but it was sufficiently near the fact to give birth to the compliment. The girls were indebted to their mother for this proficiency, having acquired from her in childhood an advantage that no subsequent study or labor can give without a drawback, if neglected beyond the earlier periods of life. Who that mother was, or rather had been, no one but Hutter knew. She had now been dead two summers, and, as was stated by hurry, she had been buried in the lake. Whether an indulgence of a prejudice or from a reluctance to take the trouble to dig her grave had frequently been a matter of discussion between the rude beings of that region. Judith had never visited the spot. But had he was present at the interment, and she often paddled a canoe about sunset or by the light of the moon to the place, and gazed down into the limpid water in the hope of being able to catch a glimpse of the form that she had so tenderly loved from infancy to the sad hour of their parting. Must we reach the rock exactly at the moment the sun sets, Judith demanded of the young man as they stood near each other, dear slayer holding the steering oar, and she working with a needle at some ornament of dress, that much exceeded her station in life and was altogether a novelty in the woods? Will a few minutes sooner or later alter the matter? It will be very hazardous to remain long as near the shore as that rock. That's it, Judith, that's the very difficulty, the rocks within pint blank for a shotgun, and will never do to hover about it too close and too long. When you have to deal with an engine you must calculate and manage, for a red nature dearly likes circumvention. Now you see, Judith, that I do not steer towards the rock at all, but here to the eastward of it, whereby the savages will be tramping off in that direction and get their legs a-weeried, and all for no advantage. You think then they see us and watch our movements, dear slayer. I was in hopes they might have fallen back into the woods and left us to ourselves for a few hours. That's altogether a woman's consate. There's no let-up in an engine's watchfulness when he's on a war-path, and eyes are on us at this minute, though the lake preserves us. We must draw near the rock on a calculation and endeavor to get the miscreants on a false scent. The mingles have good noses, they tell me, but a white man's reason ought always to equalize their instinct. Judith now entered into a desultory discourse with dear slayer in which the girl betrayed her growing interest in the young man. An interest that his simplicity of mind and her decision of character, sustained as it was by the consciousness awakened by the consideration her personal charms so universally produced, rendered her less anxious to conceal than might otherwise have been the case. She was scarcely forward in her manner, though there was sometimes a freedom in her glances that it required all the aid of her exceeding beauty to prevent from awakening suspicions unfavorable to her discretion, if not to her morals. With dear slayer, however, these glances were rendered less obnoxious to so unpleasant a construction, for she seldom looked at him without discovering much of the sincerity and nature that accompanied the purest emotions of woman. It was a little remarkable that, as his captivity lengthened, neither of the girls manifested any great concern for her father. But as has been said already, their habits gave them confidence, and they looked forward to his liberation by means of a ransom, with a confidence that might, in a great degree, account for their apparent indifference. Once before, Hatter had been in the hands of the Eroquoi, and a few skins had readily affected his release. This event, however, unknown to the sisters, had occurred in a time of peace between England and France, and when the savages were restrained instead of being encouraged to commit their excesses by the policy of the different colonial governments. While Judith was loquacious and caressing in her manner, had he remained thoughtful and silent. Once indeed she drew near to dear slayer and questioned him a little closely as to his intentions, as well as concerning the motive of affecting his purpose. But her wish to converse went no further. As soon as her simple queries were answered, and answered they all were in the fullest and kindest manner, she withdrew to her seat and continued to work on a coarse garment that she was making for her father, sometimes humming a low melancholy air, and frequently sighing. In this manner the time passed away, and when the sun was beginning to glow behind the fringe of the pines that bounded the western hill, or about twenty minutes before it actually set, the arc was nearly as low as the point where Hatter and Hury had been made prisoners. By shearing first to one side of the lake and then to the other, dear slayer managed to create an uncertainty as to his object, and doubtless the savages who were unquestionably watching his movements were led to believe that his aim was to communicate with them, at or near this spot, and would hasten in that direction in order to be in readiness to profit by circumstances. This artifice was well managed, since the sweep of the bay, the curvature of the lake, and the low marshy land that intervened would probably allow the arc to reach the rock before its pursuers, if really collected near this point. It had time to make the circuit that would be required to get there by land. With a view to aid this deception, dear slayer stood as near the western shore as was at all prudent, and then causing Judith and Hedy to enter the house, or cabin, and crouching himself so as to conceal his person by the frame of the scow. He suddenly threw the head of the latter around, and began to make the best of his way towards the outlet. Favored by an increase in the wind, the progress of the arc was such as to promise the complete success of this plan, though the crab-like movement of the craft compelled the helmsman to keep its head looking in a direction very different from that in which it was actually moving.


gosh this is so good so so good my steel plate fell down i'm gonna go put it back up what's up guys and welcome back to the JohnQ channel thanks so much for watching in today's video i'll be shooting for the first time a full magazine through the staccato cs and if you know me at all if you've seen this channel you know that i love staccatos i'll be going through the shootability how it feels and if you should actually buy this and carry for yourself but before we do that i want to make sure that you guys know you have a chance to win this staccato cs like this exact one and no this is not a joke people keep asking me if this is a real thing and it is yes you guys can actually have a chance to win this staccato cs so the way to enter is this follow these instructions right here all you have to do is go to go dot get enter to win dot com slash johnny q on that website fill out the information and also buy a collectible when you buy a collectible you're now entered to win this staccato cs who wouldn't want to sign up and potentially win this three thousand dollar staccato so again make sure to click the link down below in the description or just follow these rules here and make sure to enter before the end of march because it does end end of march all right guys let's get back to the video okay first things first um it's staccato so you're gonna get that manual safety right now if you like the manual safety cool if you don't cool to be pretty honest i don't like manual safeties on my epistles so it's like well does it bother me no and guess what you can also just turn that manual safety off so every time you pull it out you're resting your thumb on that safety and that's something you want to do i don't really know it's just preference at that point but for me it doesn't make a big deal but i know some people it doesn't make or break the pistol i mean this is pretty much an exact replica of my staccato p and it's really not that different i also love that it has the flat trigger and the trigger itself is about four to four and a half pounds of a trigger press here's pretty much the wall and take up and break okay let's see what the reset's like it's very fast very crisp and then up to the wall break and that is the trigger on the staccato cs the cs comes chambered in nine millimeter and it's a 16 plus one the trigger is a four to four and a half pound it's got a crisp and clean single action pull the barrel is a 3.5 inch bolt barrel it's also available in stainless steel and dlc the weight without an optic and no magazine is about 23 ounces the frame is built from an aluminum 70 75 and it's a billet precision machined aluminum frame the recoil system is a 3.5 inch tool less all new fully captured Dawson precision recoil system and of course it comes with two steel 16 round magazines which is just like the staccato p and every other staccato but still holds true to that staccato feel that we all know and love i will say when you eject the magazine and go to enter it's a very smooth transaction the way it goes in the way it goes out i mean it does feel different it doesn't feel like a normal staccato it also doesn't feel like a regular polymer pistol which is something that i found unique and i did love so that's something to take note of but i just love the way a magazine can eject from the grip and inserting it back in there that to me is just satisfying i think it's really tactical i love doing that so also please do take note if you're going to insert the steel magazine make sure you really see it in there because if you don't see it it's going to look like this if you don't see it properly it's going to look like that and nobody wants that because at some point it will just fall and you'll miss your shots and you won't have any more rounds to shoot at the bad guy with or your target or steel target so make sure you're properly indexing and seeding the magazine into the staccato i know it's really weird to say but i found myself that even just like that if i don't put enough pressure on it it won't go all the way in so you need all that pressure going up make sure it gets properly seeded my steel plate fell down i'm gonna go put it back up the cs comes optic ready so you can put an optic if you want the downside from that though is that you will have to order an optic plate that will fit in rmr or any kind of optic you may want to put on there i believe the price for that plate is roughly like 102 120 depending on where you get it but on the staccato site it's about it's over 100 bucks so that is kind of a downside as well i mean i'm a fan of that i mean i don't know i can be in sometimes i'm a fan of the manual safety i do like playing with it that's what she said but i don't know it's it's just there it's good to have i mean man it's just a good shooting little pistol you can also attach a light on here if you want i probably go with something like the tlr7 sub by streamlight it's small compact i believe it's 500 lumens now the only thing that i would have trouble finding i think or maybe you would have to spend some money on is a holster for the cs so here's my dilemma okay this is my usual everyday carry this is the six hour x macro then we have the cs in the macro there are 17 rounds plus one so you can have a total of 18 rounds 17 rounds in this one so does it really matter to you that this has 17 and the x macro has 18 rounds total i do carry the x macro because of how slim it is i can attach light on there and it's super light and very compatible with my body and where i put it and how i holster it i will say that the staccato cs is slightly thicker than the x macro but i don't know if that really matters to me especially if you put a small optic on the cs i feel like you're kind of competing with the x macro very well look at the lengths of those barrels i mean very very close the only thing that i would say bulges out from the staccato cs is the magazine here if you can see you can tell the magazine on the staccato cs comes out just a tad bit more than the x macro i do carry the x macro almost every day and it feels so good now i have not been able to carry the cs as often because i don't have an actual holster i just have the 945 industries bag that i put it in it's like a fanny pack that i use on my chest kind of like a chest rig but for the most part i've not concealed carry the staccato cs to really tell you guys if it actually matters but i feel like it wouldn't just because of how close the size the barrel length and how close they are so it's really to me it may not be a big deal but to you it might so something to consider all right got a full magazine insert oh man that just feels so smooth it feels so good in the hands like the fact that it's just slightly smaller than my hand and it fits and it fits so well in my hand it feels like i'm handling a a large staccato p and to me that's all i ever want that's all i ever want i want to feel like i'm handling a giant staccato but it comes in this small compact form factor which i'm in love with man gosh just so good so so good all right i think i got like 10 or so in here let's do it all right so here's my question who is this staccato cs for i mean you're gonna be spending over 2500 bucks with that amount of money you could purchase two to three polymer pistols that are just as good as the staccato cs would you need to spend that much money on a pistol that does the same thing as like let's say the six hour x macro or a block 19 probably not which is why i think the staccato cs is a very specialized pistol not only for law enforcement but also those who already have guns that they use every single day for protection for everyday carry and for range use maybe you want to level up your pistol game maybe you do want to spend more money on it maybe you do have the money and resources to spend about three thousand dollars after you get an optic on there and the light and then also a holster some of the drawbacks might be that it's a hammered fired pistol and not striker fired now is that something that's important to you it could be now it could be important to you when you're carrying for protection or going out to the range but i do think this staccato cs has a special market out there now for me will i carry this staccato cs yeah i will be carrying this staccato cs gotta find a good holster for it a good optic and a good light so the question is will you be getting staccato cs most likely people may not go out there and just buy a twenty five hundred dollar gun for everyday carry or just for fun i think it's something you build up to you save the funds you get a couple pistols on the way and then finally you get something like this 2011 cs but i would be interested to know what you guys think would you go out and buy this cs are there better options out there could you buy two quality polymer pistols with optics for the price of this let me know your thoughts comment down below as always guys thank you so much for watching and i will catch you in the next johnny q video peace all right we have to load this up again and go shoot a few more rounds because it's just a fun little pistol to shoot i love it i love it