LEATHERSTOCKING TALES – Complete Collection. Джеймс Фенимор Купер

known enough of us here, to be glad to see us no more.

      “The last would make death a bitter portion; yes it would. It’s eight good years since the Sarpent and I began to hunt together, and the thought that we were never to meet ag’in would be a hard thought to me. He looks forward to the time when he shall chase a sort of spirit-deer, in company, on plains where there’s no thorns, or brambles, or marshes, or other hardships to overcome, whereas I can’t fall into all these notions, seeing that they appear to be ag’in reason. Spirits can’t eat, nor have they any use for clothes, and deer can only rightfully be chased to be slain, or slain, unless it be for the venison or the hides. Now, I find it hard to suppose that blessed spirits can be put to chasing game without an object, tormenting the dumb animals just for the pleasure and agreeableness of their own amusements. I never yet pulled a trigger on buck or doe, Judith, unless when food or clothes was wanting.”

      “The recollection of which, Deerslayer, must now be a great consolation to you.”

      “It is the thought of such things, my fri’nds, that enables a man to keep his furlough. It might be done without it, I own; for the worst red-skins sometimes do their duty in this matter; but it makes that which might otherwise be hard, easy, if not altogether to our liking. Nothing truly makes a bolder heart than a light conscience.”

      Judith turned paler than ever, but she struggled for self-command, and succeeded in obtaining it. The conflict had been severe, however, and it left her so little disposed to speak that Hetty pursued the subject. This was done in the simple manner natural to the girl.

      “It would be cruel to kill the poor deer,” she said, “in this world, or any other, when you don’t want their venison, or their skins. No good white man, and no good red man would do it. But it’s wicked for a Christian to talk about chasing anything in heaven. Such things are not done before the face of God, and the missionary that teaches these doctrines can’t be a true missionary. He must be a wolf in sheep’s clothing. I suppose you know what a sheep is, Deerslayer.”

      “That I do, gal, and a useful creatur’ it is, to such as like cloths better than skins for winter garments. I understand the natur’ of sheep, though I’ve had but little to do with ’em, and the natur’ of wolves too, and can take the idee of a wolf in the fleece of a sheep, though I think it would be like to prove a hot jacket for such a beast, in the warm months!”

      “And sin and hypocrisy are hot jackets, as they will find who put them on,” returned Hetty, positively, “so the wolf would be no worse off than the sinner. Spirits don’t hunt, nor trap, nor fish, nor do anything that vain men undertake, since they’ve none of the longings of this world to feed. Oh! Mother told me all that, years ago, and I don’t wish to hear it denied.”

      “Well, my good Hetty, in that case you’d better not broach your doctrine to Hist, when she and you are alone, and the young Delaware maiden is inclined to talk religion. It’s her fixed idee, I know, that the good warriors do nothing but hunt and fish in the other world, though I don’t believe that she fancies any of them are brought down to trapping, which is no empl’yment for a brave. But of hunting and fishing, accordin’ to her notion, they’ve their fill, and that, too, over the most agreeablest hunting grounds, and among game that is never out of season, and which is just actyve and instinctyve enough to give a pleasure to death. So I wouldn’t ricommend it to you to start Hist on that idee.”

      “Hist can’t be so wicked as to believe any such thing,” returned the other, earnestly. “No Indian hunts after he is dead.”

      “No wicked Indian, I grant you; no wicked Indian, sartainly. He is obliged to carry the ammunition, and to look on without sharing in the sport, and to cook, and to light the fires, and to do every thing that isn’t manful. Now, mind; I don’t tell you these are my idees, but they are Hist’s idees, and, therefore, for the sake of peace the less you say to her ag’in ’em, the better.”

      “And what are your ideas of the fate of an Indian, in the other world?” demanded Judith, who had just found her voice.

      “Ah! gal, any thing but that! I am too Christianized to expect any thing so fanciful as hunting and fishing after death, nor do I believe there is one Manitou for the red-skin and another for a pale-face. You find different colours on ‘arth, as any one may see, but you don’t find different natur’s. Different gifts, but only one natur’.”

      “In what is a gift different from a nature? Is not nature itself a gift from God?”

      “Sartain; that’s quick-thoughted, and creditable, Judith, though the main idee is wrong. A natur’ is the creatur’ itself; its wishes, wants, idees and feelin’s, as all are born in him. This natur’ never can be changed, in the main, though it may undergo some increase, or lessening. Now, gifts come of sarcumstances. Thus, if you put a man in a town, he gets town gifts; in a settlement, settlement gifts; in a forest, gifts of the woods. A soldier has soldierly gifts, and a missionary preaching gifts. All these increase and strengthen, until they get to fortify natur’, as it might be, and excuse a thousand acts and idees. Still the creatur’ is the same at the bottom; just as a man who is clad in regimentals is the same as the man that is clad in skins. The garments make a change to the eye, and some change in the conduct, perhaps; but none in the man. Herein lies the apology for gifts; seein’ that you expect different conduct from one in silks and satins, from one in homespun; though the Lord, who didn’t make the dresses, but who made the creatur’s themselves, looks only at his own work. This isn’t ra’al missionary doctrine, but it’s as near it as a man of white colour need be. Ah’s! me; little did I think to be talking of such matters, to-day, but it’s one of our weaknesses never to know what will come to pass. Step into the Ark with me, Judith, for a minute; I wish to convarse with you.”

      Judith complied with a willingness she could scarce conceal. Following the hunter into the cabin, she took a seat on a stool, while the young man brought Killdeer, the rifle she had given him, out of a corner, and placed himself on another, with the weapon laid upon his knees. After turning the piece round and round, and examining its lock and its breech with a sort of affectionate assiduity, he laid it down and proceeded to the subject which had induced him to desire the interview.

      “I understand you, Judith, to say that you gave me this rifle,” he said. “I agreed to take it, because a young woman can have no particular use for firearms. The we’pon has a great name, and it desarves it, and ought of right to be carried by some known and sure hand, for the best repitation may be lost by careless and thoughtless handling.”

      “Can it be in better hands than those in which it is now, Deerslayer? Thomas Hutter seldom missed with it; with you it must turn out to be —”

      “Sartain death!” interrupted the hunter, laughing. “I once know’d a beaver-man that had a piece he called by that very name, but ’twas all boastfulness, for I’ve seen Delawares that were as true with arrows, at a short range. Howsever, I’ll not deny my gifts — for this is a gift, Judith, and not natur’— but, I’ll not deny my gifts, and therefore allow that the rifle couldn’t well be in better hands than it is at present. But, how long will it be likely to remain there? Atween us, the truth may be said, though I shouldn’t like to have it known to the Sarpent and Hist; but, to you the truth may be spoken, since your feelin’s will not be as likely to be tormented by it, as those of them that have known me longer and better. How long am I like to own this rifle or any other? That is a serious question for our thoughts to rest on, and should that happen which is so likely to happen, Killdeer would be without an owner.”

      Judith listened with apparent composure, though the conflict within came near overpowering her. Appreciating the singular character of her companion, however, she succeeded in appearing calm, though, had not his attention been drawn exclusively to the rifle, a man of his keenness of observation could scarce have failed to detect the agony of mind with which the girl had hearkened to his words. Her great self-command, notwithstanding, enabled her to pursue the subject in a way still to deceive him.

      “What would you have me do with the weapon,” she asked, “should that which you seem to expect take place?”

      “That’s just what