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THE PIONEERS

Or, The Sources of the Susquehanna

A Descriptive Tale

By J. FENIMORE COOPER

INTRODUCTION

As this work professes, in its title-page, to be a descriptive tale,
they who will take the trouble to read it may be glad to know how much
of its contents is literal fact, and how much is intended to represent
a general picture.  The author is very sensible that, had he confined
himself to the latter, always the most effective, as it is the most
valuable, mode of conveying knowledge of this nature, he would have
made a far better book.  But in commencing to describe scenes, and
perhaps he may add characters, that were so familiar to his own youth,
there was a constant temptation to delineate that which he had known,
rather than that which he might have imagined.  This rigid adhesion to
truth, an indispensable requisite in history and travels, destroys the
charm of fiction; for all that is necessary to be conveyed to the mind
by the latter had better be done by delineations of principles, and of
characters in their classes, than by a too fastidious attention to
originals.

New York having but one county of Otsego, and the Susquehanna but one
proper source, there can be no mistake as to the site of the tale.
The history of this district of country, so far as it is connected
with civilized men, is soon told.

Otsego, in common with most of the interior of the province of New
York, was included in the county of Albany previously to the war of
the separation.  It then became, in a subsequent division of
territory, a part of Montgomery; and finally, having obtained a
sufficient population of its own, it was set apart as a county by
itself shortly after the peace of 1783.  It lies among those low spurs
of the Alleghanies which cover the midland counties of New York, and
it is a little east of a meridional line drawn through the centre of
the State.  As the waters of New York flow either southerly into the
Atlantic or northerly into Ontario and its outlet, Otsego Lake, being
the source of the Susquehanna, is of necessity among its highest
lands.  The face of the country, the climate as it was found by the
whites, and the manners of the settlers, are described with a
minuteness for which the author has no other apology than the force of
his own recollections.

Otsego is said to be a word compounded of Ot, a place of meeting, and
Sego, or Sago, the ordinary term of salutation used by the Indians of
this region.  There is a tradition which says that the neighboring
tribes were accustomed to meet on the banks of the lake to make their
treaties, and otherwise to strengthen their alliances, and which
refers the name to this practice.  As the Indian agent of New York had
a log dwelling at the foot of the lake, however, it is not impossible
that the appellation grew out of the meetings that were held at his
council fires; the war drove off the agent, in common with the other
officers of the crown; and his rude dwelling was soon abandoned.  The
author remembers it, a few years later, reduced to the humble office
of a smoke-house.

In 1779 an expedition was sent against the hostile Indians, who dwelt
about a hundred miles west of Otsego, on the banks of the Cayuga.  The
whole country was then a wilderness, and it was necessary to transport
the bag gage of the troops by means of the rivers—a devious but
practicable route.  One brigade ascended the Mohawk until it reached
the point nearest to the sources of the Susquehanna, whence it cut a
lane through the forest to the head of the Otsego.  The boats and
baggage were carried over this “portage,” and the troops proceeded to
the other extremity of the lake, where they disembarked and encamped.
The Susquehanna, a narrow though rapid stream at its source, was much
filled with “flood wood,” or fallen trees; and the troops adopted a
novel expedient to facilitate their passage.  The Otsego is about nine
miles in length, varying in breadth from half a mile to a mile and a
half.  The water is of great depth, limpid, and supplied from a
thousand springs.  At its foot the banks are rather less than thirty
feet high the remainder of its margin being in mountains, intervals,
and points.  The outlet, or the Susquehanna, flows through a gorge in
the low banks just mentioned, which may have a width of two hundred
feet.  This gorge was dammed and the waters of the lake collected: the
Susquehanna was converted into a rill.

When all was ready the troops embarked, the damn was knocked away, the
Otsego poured out its torrent, and the boats went merrily down with
the current.

General James Clinton, the brother of George Clinton, then governor of
New York, and the father of De Witt Clinton, who died governor of the
same State in 1827, commanded the brigade employed on this duty.
During the stay of the troops at the foot of the Otsego a soldier was
shot for desertion.  The grave of this unfortunate man was the first
place of human interment that the author ever beheld, as the smoke-
house was the first ruin! The swivel alluded to in this work was
buried and abandoned by the troops on this occasion, and it was
subsequently found in digging the cellars of the authors paternal
residence.

Soon after the close of the war, Washington, accompanied by many
distinguished men, visited the scene of this tale, it is said with a
view to examine the facilities for opening a communication by water
with other points of the country.  He stayed but a few hours.

In 1785 the author’s father, who had an interest in extensive tracts
of land in this wilderness, arrived with a party of surveyors.  The
manner in which the scene met his eye is described by Judge Temple.
At the commencement of the following year the settlement began; and
from that time to this the country has continued to flourish.  It is a
singular feature in American life that at the beginning of this
century, when the proprietor of the estate had occasion for settlers
on a new settlement and in a remote county, he was enabled to draw
them from among the increase of the former colony.

Although the settlement of this part of Otsego a little preceded the
birth of the author, it was not sufficiently advanced to render it
desirable that an event so important to himself should take place in
the wilderness.  Perhaps his mother had a reasonable distrust of the
practice of Dr Todd, who must then have been in the novitiate of his
experimental acquirements.  Be that as it may, the author was brought
an infant into this valley, and all his first impressions were here
obtained.  He has inhabited it ever since, at intervals; and he thinks
he can answer for the faithfulness of the picture he has drawn.
Otsego has now become one of the most populous districts of New York.
It sends forth its emigrants like any other old region, and it is
pregnant with industry and enterprise.  Its manufacturers are
prosperous, and it is worthy of remark that one of the most ingenious
machines known in European art is derived from the keen ingenuity
which is exercised in this remote region.

In order to prevent mistake, it may be well to say that the incidents
of this tale are purely a fiction.  The literal facts are chiefly
connected with the natural and artificial objects and the customs of
the inhabitants.  Thus the academy, and court-house, and jail, and
inn, and most similar things, are tolerably exact.  They have all,
long since, given place to other buildings of a more pretending
character.  There is also some liberty taken with the truth in the
description of the principal dwelling; the real building had no
“firstly” and “lastly.” It was of bricks, and not of stone; and its
roof exhibited none of the peculiar beauties of the “composite order.”
It was erected in an age too primitive for that ambitious school of
architecture.  But the author indulged his recollections freely when
he had fairly entered the door.  Here all is literal, even to the
severed arm of Wolfe, and the urn which held the ashes of Queen Dido.*

  * Though forests still crown the mountains of Otsego, the bear, the
    wolf, and the panther are nearly strangers to them.  Even the innocent
    deer is rarely seen bounding beneath their arches; for the rifle and
    the activity of the settlers hare driven them to other haunts.  To
    this change (which in some particulars is melancholy to one who knew
    the country in its infancy), it may be added that the Otsego is
    beginning to be a niggard of its treasures.

The author has elsewhere said that the character of Leather-Stocking
is a creation, rendered probable by such auxiliaries as were necessary
to produce that effect.  Had he drawn still more upon fancy, the
lovers of fiction would not have so much cause for their objections to
his work.  Still, the picture would not have been in the least true
without some substitutes for most of the other personages.  The great
proprietor resident on his lands, and giving his name to instead of
receiving it from his estates as in Europe, is common over the whole
of New York.  The physician with his theory, rather obtained from than
corrected by experiments on the human constitution; the pious, self-
denying, laborious, and ill-paid missionary; the half-educated,
litigious, envious, and disreputable lawyer, with his counterpoise, a
brother of the profession, of better origin and of better character;
the shiftless, bargaining, discontented seller of his “betterments;”
the plausible carpenter, and most of the others, are more familiar to
all who have ever dwelt in a new country.

It may be well to say here, a little more explicitly, that there was
no real intention to describe with particular accuracy any real
characters in this book.  It has been often said, and in published
statements, that the heroine of this book was drawn after the sister
of the writer, who was killed by a fall from a horse now near half a
century since.  So ingenious is conjecture that a personal resemblance
has been discovered between the fictitious character and the deceased
relative! It is scarcely possible to describe two females of the same
class in life who would be less alike, personally, than Elizabeth
Temple and the sister of the author who met with the deplorable fate
mentioned.  In a word, they were as unlike in this respect as in
history, character, and fortunes.

Circumstances rendered this sister singularly dear to the author.
After a lapse of half a century, he is writing this paragraph with a
pain that would induce him to cancel it, were it not still more
painful to have it believed that one whom he regarded with a reverence
that surpassed the love of a brother was converted by him into the
heroine of a work of fiction.

From circumstances which, after this Introduction, will be obvious to
all, the author has had more pleasure in writing “The Pioneers” than
the book will probably ever give any of its readers.  He is quite
aware of its numerous faults, some of which he has endeavored to
repair in this edition; but as he has—in intention, at least—done his
full share in amusing the world, he trusts to its good-nature for
overlooking this attempt to please himself.

CHAPTER 1.

“See, Winter comes, to rule the varied years,
Sullen and sad, with all his rising train;
Vapors, and clouds, and storms.”—Thomson.

Near the centre of the State of New York lies an extensive district of
country whose surface is a succession of hills and dales, or, to speak
with greater deference to geographical definitions, of mountains and
valleys.  It is among these hills that the Delaware takes its rise;
and flowing from the limpid lakes and thousand springs of this region
the numerous sources of the Susquehanna meander through the valleys
until, uniting their streams, they form one of the proudest rivers of
the United States.  The mountains are generally arable to the tops,
although instances are not wanting where the sides are jutted with
rocks that aid greatly in giving to the country that romantic and
picturesque character which it so eminently possesses.  The vales are
narrow, rich, and cultivated, with a stream uniformly winding through
each.  Beautiful and thriving villages are found interspersed along
the margins of the small lakes, or situated at those points of the
streams which are favorable for manufacturing; and neat and
comfortable farms, with every indication of wealth about them, are
scattered profusely through the vales, and even to the mountain tops.
Roads diverge in every direction from the even and graceful bottoms of
the valleys to the most rugged and intricate passes of the hills.
Academies and minor edifices of learning meet the eye of the stranger
at every few miles as be winds his way through this uneven territory,
and places for the worship of God abound with that frequency which
characterize a moral and reflecting people, and with that variety of
exterior and canonical government which flows from unfettered liberty
of conscience.  In short, the whole district is hourly exhibiting how
much can be done, in even a rugged country and with a severe climate,
under the dominion of mild laws, and where every man feels a direct
interest in the prosperity of a commonwealth of which he knows himself
to form a part.  The expedients of the pioneers who first broke ground
in the settlement of this country are succeeded by the permanent
improvements of the yeoman who intends to leave his remains to moulder
under the sod which he tills, or perhaps of the son, who, born in the
land, piously wishes to linger around the grave of his father.  Only
forty years * have passed since this territory was a wilderness.

  * Our tale begins in 1793, about seven years after the commencement of
    one of the earliest of those settlements which have conduced to effect
    that magical change in the power and condition of the State to which
    we have alluded.

Very soon after the establishment of the independence of the States by
the peace of 1783, the enterprise of their citizens was directed to a
development of the natural ad vantages of their widely extended
dominions.  Before the war of the Revolution, the inhabited parts of
the colony of New York were limited to less than a tenth of its
possessions, A narrow belt of country, extending for a short distance
on either side of the Hudson, with a similar occupation of fifty miles
on the banks of the Mohawk, together with the islands of Nassau and
Staten, and a few insulated settlements on chosen land along the
margins of streams, composed the country, which was then inhabited by
less than two hundred thousand souls. Within the short period we have
mentioned, the population has spread itself over five degrees of
latitude and seven of longitude, and has swelled to a million and a
half of inhabitants, who are maintained in abundance, and can look
forward to ages before the evil day must arrive when their possessions
shall become unequal to their wants.

It was near the setting of the sun, on a clear, cold day in December,
when a sleigh was moving slowly up one of the mountains in the
district we have described.  The day had been fine for the season, and
but two or three large clouds, whose color seemed brightened by the
light reflected from the mass of snow that covered the earth, floated
in a sky of the purest blue.  The road wound along the brow of a
precipice, and on one side was upheld by a foundation of logs piled
one upon the other, while a narrow excavation in the mountain in the
opposite direction had made a passage of sufficient width for the
ordinary travelling of that day.  But logs, excavation, and every
thing that did not reach several feet above the earth lay alike buried
beneath the snow.  A single track, barely wide enough to receive the
sleigh, * denoted the route of the highway, and this was sunk nearly
two feet below the surrounding surface.

  * Sleigh is the word used in every part of the United States to denote
    a traineau.  It is of local use in the west of England, whence it is
    most probably derived by the Americans.  The latter draw a distinction
    between a sled, or sledge, and a sleigh, the sleigh being shod with
    metal. Sleighs are also subdivided into two - horse and one-horse
    sleighs.  Of the latter, there are the cutter, with thills so arranged
    as to permit the horse to travel in the side track; the “pung,” or
    “tow-pung” which is driven with a pole; and the “gumper,” a rude
    construction used for temporary purposes in the new countries.  Many
    of the American sleighs are elegant though the use of this mode of
    conveyance is much lessened with the melioration of the climate
    consequent to the clearing of the forests.

In the vale, which lay at a distance of several hundred feet lower,
there was what, in the language of the country, was called a clearing,
and all the usual improvements of a new settlement; these even
extended up the hill to the point where the road turned short and ran
across the level land, which lay on the summit of the mountain; but
the summit itself remained in the forest.  There was glittering in the
atmosphere, as if it was filled with innumerable shining particles;
and the noble bay horses that drew the sleigh were covered, in many
parts with a coat of hoar-frost.  The vapor from their nostrils was
seen to issue like smoke; and every object in the view, as well as
every arrangement of the travellers, denoted the depth of a winter in
the mountains.  The harness, which was of a deep, dull black,
differing from the glossy varnishing of the present day, was
ornamented with enormous plates and buckles of brass, that shone like
gold in those transient beams of the sun which found their way
obliquely through the tops of the trees.  Huge saddles, studded with
nails and fitted with cloth that served as blankets to the shoulders
of the cattle, supported four high, square-topped turrets, through
which the stout reins led from the mouths of the horses to the hands
of the driver, who was a negro, of apparently twenty years of age.
His face, which nature had colored with a glistening black, was now
mottled with the cold, and his large shining eyes filled with tears; a
tribute to its power that the keen frosts of those regions always
extracted from one of his African origin.  Still, there was a smiling
expression of good-humor in his happy countenance, that was created by
the thoughts of home and a Christmas fireside, with its Christmas
frolics.  The sleigh was one of those large, comfortable, old-
fashioned conveyances, which would admit a whole family within its
bosom, but which now contained only two passengers besides the driver.
The color of its outside was a modest green, and that of its inside a
fiery red, The latter was intended to convey the idea of heat in that
cold climate.  Large buffalo-skins trimmed around the edges with red
cloth cut into festoons, covered the back of the sleigh, and were
spread over its bottom and drawn up around the feet of the travellers
- one of whom was a man of middle age and the other a female just
entering upon womanhood.  The former was of a large stature; but the
precautions he had taken to guard against the cold left but little of
his person exposed to view.  A great-coat, that was abundantly
ornamented by a profusion of furs, enveloped the whole of his figure
excepting the head, which was covered with a cap of mar ten-skins
lined with morocco, the sides of which were made to fall, if
necessary, and were now drawn close over the ears and fastened beneath
his chin with a black rib bon.  The top of the cap was surmounted with
the tail of the animal whose skin had furnished the rest of the
materials, which fell back, not ungracefully, a few inches be hind the
head.  From beneath this mask were to be seen part of a fine, manly
face, and particularly a pair of expressive large blue eyes, that
promised extraordinary intellect, covert humor, and great benevolence.
The form of his companion was literally hid beneath the garments she
wore.  There were furs and silks peeping from under a large camlet
cloak with a thick flannel lining, that by its cut and size was
evidently intended for a masculine wearer.  A huge hood of black silk,
that was quilted with down, concealed the whole of her head, except at
a small opening in front for breath, through which occasionally
sparkled a pair of animated jet-black eyes.

Both the father and daughter (for such was the connection between the
two travellers) were too much occupied with their reflections to break
a stillness that derived little or no interruption from the easy
gliding of the sleigh by the sound of their voices.  The former was
thinking of the wife that had held this their only child to her bosom,
when, four years before, she had reluctantly consented to relinquish
the society of her daughter in order that the latter might enjoy the
advantages of an education which the city of New York could only offer
at that period.  A few months afterward death had deprived him of the
remaining companion of his solitude; but still he had enough real
regard for his child not to bring her into the comparative wilderness
in which he dwelt, until the full period had expired to which he had
limited her juvenile labors.  The reflections of the daughter were
less melancholy, and mingled with a pleased astonishment at the novel
scenery she met at every turn in the road.

The mountain on which they were journeying was covered with pines that
rose without a branch some seventy or eighty feet, and which
frequently doubled that height by the addition of the tops.  Through
the innumerable vistas that opened beneath the lofty trees, the eye
could penetrate until it was met by a distant inequality in the
ground, or was stopped by a view of the summit of the mountain which
lay on the opposite side of the valley to which they were hastening.
The dark trunks of the trees rose from the pure white of the snow in
regularly formed shafts, until, at a great height, their branches shot
forth horizontal limbs, that were covered with the meagre foliage of
an evergreen, affording a melancholy contrast to the torpor of nature
below.  To the travellers there seemed to be no wind; but these pines
waved majestically at their topmost boughs, sending forth a dull,
plaintive sound that was quite in consonance with the rest of the
melancholy scene.

The sleigh had glided for some distance along the even surface, and
the gaze of the female was bent in inquisitive and, perhaps, timid
glances into the recesses of the forest, when a loud and continued
howling was heard, pealing under the long arches of the woods like the
cry of a numerous pack of hounds.  The instant the sounds reached the
ear of the gentleman he cried aloud to the black:

“Hol up, Aggy; there is old Hector; I should know his bay among ten
thousand! The Leather-Stocking has put his hounds into the hills this
clear day, and they have started their game.  There is a deer-track a
few rods ahead; and now, Bess, if thou canst muster courage enough to
stand fire, I will give thee a saddle for thy Christmas dinner.”

The black drew up, with a cheerful grin upon his chilled features, and
began thrashing his arms together in order to restore the circulation
of his fingers, while the speaker stood erect and, throwing aside his
outer covering, stepped from the sleigh upon a bank of snow which
sustained his weight without yielding.

In a few moments the speaker succeeded in extricating a double-
barrelled fowling-piece from among a multitude of trunks and
bandboxes.  After throwing aside the thick mittens which had encased
his hands, there now appeared a pair of leather gloves tipped with
fur; he examined his priming, and was about to move forward, when the
light bounding noise of an animal plunging through the woods was
heard, and a fine buck darted into the path a short distance ahead of
him.  The appearance of the animal was sudden, and his flight
inconceivably rapid; but the traveller appeared to be too keen a
sportsman to be disconcerted by either.  As it came first into view he
raised the fowling-piece to his shoulder and, with a practised eye and
steady hand, drew a trigger.  The deer dashed forward undaunted, and
apparently unhurt.  Without lowering his piece, the traveller turned
its muzzle toward his victim, and fired again.  Neither discharge,
however, seemed to have taken effect,

The whole scene had passed with a rapidity that confused the female,
who was unconsciously rejoicing in the escape of the buck, as he
rather darted like a meteor than ran across the road, when a sharp,
quick sound struck her ear, quite different from the full, round
reports of her father’s gun, but still sufficiently distinct to be
known as the concussion produced by firearms.  At the same instant
that she heard this unexpected report, the buck sprang from the snow
to a great height in the air, and directly a second discharge, similar
in sound to the first, followed, when the animal came to the earth,
failing head long and rolling over on the crust with its own velocity.
A loud shout was given by the unseen marksman, and a couple of men
instantly appeared from behind the trunks of two of the pines, where
they had evidently placed them selves in expectation of the passage of
the deer.

“Ha! Natty, had I known you were in ambush, I should not have fired,”
cried the traveller, moving toward the spot where the deer lay—near to
which he was followed by the delighted black, with his sleigh; “but
the sound of old Hector was too exhilarating to be quiet; though I
hardly think I struck him, either.”

“No—no——Judge,” returned the hunter, with an inward chuckle, and with
that look of exultation that indicates a consciousness of superior
skill, “you burnt your powder only to warm your nose this cold
evening.  Did ye think to stop a full-grown buck, with Hector and the
slut open upon him within sound, with that pop-gun in your hand!
There’s plenty of pheasants among the swamps; and the snow-birds are
flying round your own door, where you may feed them with crumbs, and
shoot them at pleasure, any day; but if you’re for a buck, or a little
bear's meat, Judge, you’ll have to take the long rifle, with a greased
wadding, or you’ll waste more powder than you’ll fill stomachs, I’m
thinking.”

As the speaker concluded he drew his bare hand across the bottom of
his nose, and again opened his enormous mouth with a kind of inward
laugh.

“The gun scatters well, Natty, And it has killed a deer before now,”
said the traveller, smiling good-humoredly.  “One barrel was charged
with buckshot, but the other was loaded for birds only.  Here are two
hurts; one through the neck, and the other directly through the heart.
It is by no means certain, Natty, but I gave him one of the two

“Let who will kill him.” said the hunter, rather surily.

“I suppose the creature is to be eaten.” So saying, he drew a large
knife from a leathern sheath, which was stuck through his girdle, or
sash, and cut the throat of the animal, “If there are two balls
through the deer, I would ask if there weren’t two rifles fired—
besides, who ever saw such a ragged hole from a smooth-bore as this
through the neck? And you will own yourself, Judge, that the buck fell
at the last shot, which was sent from a truer and a younger hand than
your’n or mine either; but, for my part, although I am a poor man I
can live without the venison, but I don’t love to give up my lawful
dues in a free country.  Though, for the matter of that, might often
makes right here, as well as in the old country, for what I can see.”

An air of sullen dissatisfaction pervaded the manner of the hunter
during the whole of his speech; yet he thought it prudent to utter the
close of the sentence in such an undertone as to leave nothing audible
but the grumbling sounds of his voice.

“Nay, Natty,” rejoined the traveller, with undisturbed good-humor, “it
is for the honor that I contend.  A few dollars will pay for the
venison; but what will requite me for the lost honor of a buck’s tail
in my cap? Think, Natty, how I should triumph over that quizzing dog,
Dick Jones, who has failed seven times already this season, and has
only brought in one woodchuck and a few gray squirrels.”

“Ah! The game is becoming hard to find, indeed, Judge, with your
clearings and betterments,” said the old hunter, with a kind of
compelled resignation.  “The time has been when I have shot thirteen
deer without counting the fa’ns standing in the door of my own hut;
and for bear’s meat, if one wanted a ham or so, he had only to watch
a-nights, and he could shoot one by moonlight, through the cracks of
the logs, no fear of his oversleeping himself neither, for the howling
of the wolves was sartin to keep his eyes open.  There’s old Hector”—
patting with affection a tall hound of black and yellow spots, with
white belly and legs, that just then came in on the scent, accompanied
by the slut he had mentioned; “see where the wolves bit his throat,
the night I druv them from the venison that was smoking on the chimney
top—that dog is more to be trusted than many a Christian man; for he
never forgets a friend, and loves the hand that gives him bread,”

There was a peculiarity in the manner of the hunter that attracted the
notice of the young female, who had been a close and interested
observer of his appearance and equipments, from the moment he came
into view.  He was tall, and so meagre as to make him seem above even
the six feet that he actually stood in his stockings.  On his head,
which was thinly covered with lank, sandy hair, he wore a cap made of
fox-skin, resembling in shape the one we have already described,
although much inferior in finish and ornaments.  His face was skinny
and thin al most to emaciation; but yet it bore no signs of disease—
on the contrary, it had every indication of the most robust and
enduring health.  The cold and exposure had, together, given it a
color of uniform red.  His gray eyes were glancing under a pair of
shaggy brows, that over hung them in long hairs of gray mingled with
their natural hue; his scraggy neck was bare, and burnt to the same
tint with his face; though a small part of a shirt-collar, made of the
country check, was to be seen above the overdress he wore.  A kind of
coat, made of dressed deer-skin, with the hair on, was belted close to
his lank body by a girdle of colored worsted.  On his feet were deer-
skin moccasins, ornamented with porcupines’ quills, after the manner
of the Indians, and his limbs were guarded with long leggings of the
same material as the moccasins, which, gartering over the knees of his
tarnished buckskin breeches, had obtained for him among the settlers
the nickname of Leather-Stocking.  Over his left shoulder was slung a
belt of deer-skin, from which depended an enormous ox-horn, so thinly
scraped as to discover the powder it contained.  The larger end was
fitted ingeniously and securely with a wooden bottom, and the other
was stopped tight by a little plug.  A leathern pouch hung before him,
from which, as he concluded his last speech, he took a small measure,
and, filling it accurately with powder, he commenced reloading the
rifle, which as its butt rested on the snow before him reached nearly
to the top of his fox-skin cap.

The traveller had been closely examining the wounds during these
movements, and now, without heeding the ill-humor of the hunter’s
manner, he exclaimed:

“I would fain establish a right, Natty, to the honor of this death;
and surely if the hit in the neck be mine it is enough; for the shot
in the heart was unnecessary—what we call an act of supererogation,
Leather-Stocking.”

“You may call it by what larned name you please, Judge,” said the
hunter, throwing his rifle across his left arm, and knocking up a
brass lid in the breech, from which he took a small piece of greased
leather and, wrapping a bail in it, forced them down by main strength
on the powder, where he continued to pound them while speaking.  “It’s
far easier to call names than to shoot a buck on the spring; but the
creatur came by his end from a younger hand than either your’n or
mine, as I said before.”

“What say you, my friend,” cried the traveller, turning pleasantly to
Natty’s companion; “shall we toss up this dollar for the honor, and
you keep the silver if you lose; what say you, friend?”

“That I killed the deer,” answered the young man, with a little
haughtiness, as he leaned on another long rifle similar to that of
Natty.

“Here are two to one, indeed,” replied the Judge with a smile; “I am
outvoted—overruled, as we say on the bench.  There is Aggy, he can’t
vote, being a slave; and Bess is a minor—so I must even make the best
of it.  But you’ll send me the venison; and the deuce is in it, but I
make a good story about its death.”

“The meat is none of mine to sell,” said Leather-Stocking, adopting a
little of his companion’s hauteur; “for my part, I have known animals
travel days with shots in the neck, and I’m none of them who’ll rob a
man of his rightful dues.”

“You are tenacious of your rights, this cold evening, Natty,” returned
the Judge with unconquerable good-nature; “but what say you, young
man; will three dollars pay you for the buck?”

“First let us determine the question of right to the satisfaction of
us both,” said the youth firmly but respect fully, and with a
pronunciation and language vastly superior to his appearance: “with
how many shot did you load your gun?”

“With five, sir,” said the Judge, a little struck with the other’s
manner; “are they not enough to slay a buck like this?”

“One would do it; but,” moving to the tree from be hind which he had
appeared, “you know, sir, you fired in this direction—here are four of
the bullets in the tree.”

The Judge examined the fresh marks in the bark of the pine, and,
shaking his head, said with a laugh:

“You are making out the case against yourself, my young advocate;
where is the fifth?”

“Here,” said the youth, throwing aside the rough over coat that he
wore, and exhibiting a hole in his under-garment, through which large
drops of blood were oozing.

“Good God!” exclaimed the Judge, with horror; “have I been trifling
here about an empty distinction, and a fellow-creature suffering from
my hands without a murmur? But hasten—quick—get into my sleigh—it is
but a mile to the village, where surgical aid can be obtained—all
shall be done at my expense, and thou shalt live with me until thy
wound is healed, ay, and forever afterward.”

“I thank you for your good intention, but I must decline your offer.
I have a friend who would be uneasy were he to hear that I am hurt and
away from him.  The injury is but slight, and the bullet has missed
the bones; but I believe, sir, you will now admit me title to the
venison.”

“Admit it!” repeated the agitated Judge; “I here give thee a right to
shoot deer, or bears, or anything thou pleasest in my woods, forever.
Leather-Stocking is the only other man that I have granted the same
privilege to; and the time is coming when it will be of value.  But I
buy your deer—here, this bill will pay thee, both for thy shot and my
own.”

The old hunter gathered his tall person up into an air of pride during
this dialogue, but he waited until the other had done speaking.

“There’s them living who say that Nathaniel Bumppo's right to shoot on
these hills is of older date than Marmaduke Temple’s right to forbid
him,” he said.  “But if there’s a law about it at all, though who ever
heard of a law that a man shouldn’t kill deer where he pleased!—but if
there is a law at all, it should be to keep people from the use of
smooth-bores.  A body never knows where his lead will fly, when he
pulls the trigger of one of them uncertain firearms.”

Without attending to the soliloquy of Natty, the youth bowed his head
silently to the offer of the bank-note, and replied:

“Excuse me: I have need of the venison.”

“But this will buy you many deer,” said the Judge; “take it, I entreat
you;” and, lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “It is for a
hundred dollars.”

For an instant only the youth seemed to hesitate, and then, blushing
even through the high color that the cold had given to his cheeks, as
if with inward shame at his own weakness, he again declined the offer.

During this scene the female arose, and regardless of the cold air,
she threw back the hood which concealed her features, and now spoke,
with great earnestness.

“Surely, surely—young man—sir—you would not pain my father so much as
to have him think that he leaves a fellow-creature in this wilderness
whom his own hand has injured.  I entreat you will go with us, and
receive medical aid.”

Whether his wound became more painful, or there was something
irresistible in the voice and manner of the fair pleader for her
father’s feelings, we know not; but the distance of the young mans
manner was sensibly softened by this appeal, and he stood in apparent
doubt, as if reluctant to comply with and yet unwilling to refuse her
request.  The Judge, for such being his office must in future be his
title, watched with no little interest the display of this singular
contention in the feelings of the youth; and, advancing, kindly took
his hand, and, as he pulled him gently toward the sleigh, urged him to
enter it.

“There is no human aid nearer than Templeton,” he said, “and the hut
of Natty is full three miles from this— come, come, my young friend,
go with us, and let the new doctor look to this shoulder of thine.
Here is Natty will take the tidings of thy welfare to thy friend; and
shouldst thou require it, thou shalt return home in the morning.”
The young man succeeded in extricating his hand from the warm grasp of
the Judge, but he continued to gaze on the face of the female, who,
regardless of the cold, was still standing with her fine features
exposed, which expressed feeling that eloquently seconded the request
of her father.  Leather-Stocking stood, in the mean time, leaning upon
his long rifle, with his head turned a little to one side, as if
engaged in sagacious musing; when, having apparently satisfied his
doubts, by revolving the subject in his mind, he broke silence.
“It may be best to go, lad, after all; for, if the shot hangs under
the skin, my hand is getting too old to be cutting into human flesh,
as I once used to, Though some thirty years agone, in the old war,
when I was out under Sir William, I travelled seventy miles alone in
the howling wilderness, with a rifle bullet in my thigh, and then cut
it out with my own jack-knife.  Old Indian John knows the time well.
I met him with a party of the Delawares, on the trail of the Iroquois,
who had been down and taken five scalps on the Schoharie.  But I made
a mark on the red-skin that I’ll warrant he’ll carry to his grave! I
took him on the posteerum, saving the lady's presence, as he got up
from the ambushment, and rattled three buckshot into his naked hide,
so close that you might have laid a broad joe upon them all”—here
Natty stretched out his long neck, and straightened his body, as he
opened his mouth, which exposed a single tusk of yellow bone, while
his eyes, his face, even his whole frame seemed to laugh, although no
sound was emitted except a kind of thick hissing, as he inhaled his
breath in quavers.  “I had lost my bullet-mould in crossing the Oneida
outlet, and had to make shift with the buckshot; but the rifle was
true, and didn’t scatter like your two-legged thing there, Judge,
which don’t do, I find, to hunt in company with.”

Natty’s apology to the delicacy of the young lady was unnecessary,
for, while he was speaking, she was too much employed in helping her
father to remove certain articles of baggage to hear him.  Unable to
resist the kind urgency of the travellers any longer, the youth,
though still with an unaccountable reluctance, suffered himself to be
persuaded to enter the sleigh.  The black, with the aid of his master,
threw the buck across the baggage and entering the vehicle themselves,
the Judge invited the hunter to do so likewise.

“ No, no,” said the old roan, shaking his head; “I have work to do at
home this Christmas eve—drive on with the boy, and let your doctor
look to the shoulder; though if he will only cut out the shot, I have
yarbs that will heal the wound quicker than all his foreign
‘intments.” He turned, and was about to move off, when, suddenly
recollecting himself, he again faced the party, and added: “If you see
anything of Indian John, about the foot of the lake, you had better
take him with you, and let him lend the doctor a hand; for, old as he
is, he is curious at cuts and bruises, and it’s likelier than not
he’ll be in with brooms to sweep your Christmas ha’arths.”

“Stop, stop,” cried the youth, catching the arm of the black as he
prepared to urge his horses forward; “Natty—you need say nothing of
the shot, nor of where I am going—remember, Natty, as you love me.”
“Trust old Leather-Stocking,” returned the hunter significantly; “he
hasn’t lived fifty years in the wilderness, and not larnt from the
savages how to hold his tongue— trust to me, lad; and remember old
Indian John.”

“And, Natty,” said the youth eagerly, still holding the black by the
arm.  “I will just get the shot extracted, and bring you up to-night a
quarter of the buck for the Christmas dinner.”

He was interrupted by the hunter, who held up his finger with an
expressive gesture for silence.  He then moved softly along the margin
of the road, keeping his eyes steadfastly fixed on the branches of a
pine.  When he had obtained such a position as he wished, he stopped,
and, cocking his rifle, threw one leg far behind him, and stretching
his left arm to its utmost extent along the barrel of his piece, he
began slowly to raise its muzzle in a line with the straight trunk of
the tree.  The eyes of the group in the sleigh naturally preceded the
movement of the rifle, and they soon discovered the object of Natty’s
aim.  On a small dead branch of the pine, which, at the distance of
seventy feet from the ground, shot out horizontally, immediately
beneath the living members of the tree, sat a bird, that in the vulgar
language of the country was indiscriminately called a pheasant or a
partridge.  In size, it was but little smaller than a common barn-yard
fowl.  The baying of the dogs, and the conversation that had passed
near the root of the tree on which it was perched, had alarmed the
bird, which was now drawn up near the body of the pine, with a head
and neck so erect as to form nearly a straight line with its legs.  As
soon as the rifle bore on the victim, Natty drew his trigger, and the
partridge fell from its height with a force that buried it in the
snow.

“Lie down, you old villain,” exclaimed Leather-Stocking, shaking his
ramrod at Hector as he bounded toward the foot of the tree, “ lie
down, I say.” The dog obeyed, and Natty proceeded with great rapidity,
though with the nicest accuracy, to reload his piece.  When this was
ended, he took up his game, and, showing it to the party without a
head, he cried: “ Here is a tidbit for an old man’s Christmas—never
mind the venison, boy, and remember Indian John; his yarbs are better
than all the foreign ‘intments.  Here, Judge,” holding up the bird
again, “do you think a smooth-bore would pick game off their roost,
and not ruffle a feather?” The old man gave another of his remarkable
laughs, which partook so largely of exultation, mirth, and irony, and,
shaking his head, he turned, with his rifle at a trail, and moved into
the forest with steps that were between a walk and a trot.  At each
movement he made his body lowered several inches, his knees yielding
with an inclination inward; but, as the sleigh turned at a bend in the
road, the youth cast his eyes in quest of his old companion, and he
saw that he was already nearly concealed by the trunks of the tree;
while his dogs were following quietly in his footsteps, occasionally
scenting the deer track, that they seemed to know instinctively was
now of no further use to them.  Another jerk was given to the sleigh,
and Leather-Stocking was hid from view.