CHAPTER 30.

“The court awards it, and the law doth give it.”—Merchant of Venice.

Remarkable Pettibone, who had forgotten the wound received by her
pride, in contemplation of the ease and comforts of her situation, and
who still retained her station in the family of judge Temple, was
dispatched to the humble dwelling which Richard already styled “The
Rectory,” in attendance on Louisa, who was soon consigned to the arms
of her father.

In the mean time, Marmaduke and his daughter were closeted for more
than an hour, nor shall we invade the sanctuary of parental love, by
relating the conversation.  When the curtain rises on the reader, the
Judge is seen walking up and down the apartment, with a tender
melancholy in his air, and his child reclining on a settee, with a
flushed cheek, and her dark eyes seeming to float in crystals.

“It was a timely rescue! it was, indeed, a timely rescue, my child!”
cried the Judge.  “Then thou didst not desert thy friend, my noble
Bess?”

“I believe I may as well take the credit of fortitude,” said
Elizabeth, “though I much doubt if flight would have availed me
anything, had I even courage to execute such an intention.  But I
thought not of the expedient.”

“Of what didst thou think, love? where did thy thoughts dwell most, at
that fearful moment?”

“The beast! the beast!” cried Elizabeth, veiling her face with her
hand.  “Oh! I saw nothing, I thought of nothing but the beast.  I
tried to think of better things, but the horror was too glaring, the
danger too much before my eyes.”

“Well, well, thou art safe, and we will converse no more on the
unpleasant subject.  I did not think such an animal yet remained in
our forests; but they will stray far from their haunts when pressed by
hunger, and—”

A loud knocking at the door of the apartment interrupted what he was
about to utter, and he bid the applicant enter.  The door was opened
by Benjamin, who came in with a discontented air, as if he felt that
he had a communication to make that would be out of season.

“Here is Squire Doolittle below, sir,” commenced the major-domo.  “He
has been standing off and on in the door-yard for the matter of a
glass; and he has summat on his mind that he wants to heave up, d’ye
see; but I tells him, says I, man, would you be coming aboard with
your complaints, said I, when the judge has gotten his own child, as
it were, out of the jaws of a lion? But damn the bit of manners has
the fellow, any more than if he was one of them Guineas down in the
kitchen there; and so as he was sheering nearer, every stretch he made
toward the house, I could do no better than to let your honor know
that the chap was in the offing.”

“He must have business of importance,” said Marmaduke: “something in
relation to his office, most probably, as the court sits so shortly.”

“Ay, ay, you have it, sir,” cried Benjamin; “it’s summat about a
complaint that he has to make of the old Leather-Stocking, who, to my
judgment, is the better man of the two.  It’s a very good sort of a
man is this Master Bumppo, and he has a way with a spear, all the same
as if he was brought up at the bow-oar of the captain’s barge, or was
born with a boat-hook in his hand.”

“Against the Leather-Stocking!” cried Elizabeth, rising from her
reclining posture.

“Rest easy, my child; some trifle, I pledge you; I believe I am
already acquainted with its import Trust me, Bess, your champion shall
be safe in my care.  Show Mr. Doolittle in, Benjamin”

Miss Temple appeared satisfied with this assurance, but fastened her
dark eyes on the person of the architect, who profited by the
permission, and instantly made his appearance.

All the impatience of Hiram seemed to vanish the instant he entered
the apartment.  After saluting the Judge and his daughter, he took the
chair to which Marmaduke pointed, and sat for a minute, composing his
straight black hair, with a gravity of demeanor that was in tended to
do honor to his official station.  At length he said:

“It’s likely, from what I hear, that Miss Temple had a narrow chance
with the painters, on the mountain.”

Marmaduke made a gentle inclination of his head, by way of assent, but
continued silent.

“I s’pose the law gives a bounty on the scalps,” continued Hiram, “in
which case the Leather-Stocking will make a good job on’t.”

“It shall be my care to see that he is rewarded,” returned the Judge.

“Yes, yes, I rather guess that nobody hereabouts doubts the Judge’s
generosity.  Does he know whether the sheriff has fairly made up his
mind to have a reading desk or a deacon’s pew under the pulpit?”
“I have not heard my cousin speak on that subject, lately,” replied
Marmaduke.
“I think it’s likely that we will have a pretty dull court on't, from
what I can gather.  I hear that Jotham Riddel and the man who bought
his betterments have agreed to leave their difference to men, and I
don’t think there’ll be more than two civil cases in the calendar.”

“I am glad of it,” said the judge; “nothing gives me more pain than to
see my settlers wasting their time and substance in the unprofitable
struggles of the law.  I hope it may prove true, sir.”

“I rather guess ‘twill be left out to men,” added Hiram, with an air
equally balanced between doubt and assurance, but which judge Temple
understood to mean certainty; “I some think that I am appointed a
referee in the case myself; Jotham as much as told me that he should
take me.  The defendant, I guess, means to take Captain Hollister, and
we two have partly agreed on Squire Jones for the third man.”

“Are there any criminals to be tried?” asked Marmaduke.

“There's the counterfeiters,” returned the magistrate, “as they were
caught in the act, I think it likely that they’ll be indicted, in
which case it’s probable they’ll be tried.”

“Certainly, sir; I had forgotten those men.  There are no more, I
hope.”
“Why, there is a threaten to come forward with an assault that
happened at the last independence day; but I’m not sartain that the
law'll take hold on’t.  There was plaguey hard words passed, but
whether they struck or not I haven’t heard.  There’s some folks talk
of a deer or two being killed out of season, over on the west side of
the Patent, by some of the squatters on the ‘Fractions.’”

“Let a complaint be made, by all means,” said the Judge; “I am
determined to see the law executed to the letter, on all such
depredators.”

“Why, yes, I thought the judge was of that mind; I came partly on such
a business myself.”

“You!” exclaimed Marmaduke, comprehending in an instant how completely
he had been caught by the other’s cunning; “and what have you to say,
sir?”

“I some think that Natty Bumppo has the carcass of a deer in his hut
at this moment, and a considerable part of my business was to get a
search-warrant to examine.”

“You think, sir! do you know that the law exacts an oath, before I can
issue such a precept? The habitation of a citizen is not to be idly
invaded on light suspicion.”

“I rather think I can swear to it myself,” returned the immovable
Hiram; “and Jotham is in the street, and as good as ready to come in
and make oath to the same thing.”

“Then issue the warrant thyself; thou art a magistrate, Mr. Doolittle;
why trouble me with the matter?”

“Why, seeing it’s the first complaint under the law, and knowing the
judge set his heart on the thing, I thought it best that the authority
to search should come from himself.  Besides, as I’m much in the
woods, among the timber, I don’t altogether like making an enemy of
the Leather Stocking.  Now, the Judge has a weight in the county that
puts him above fear.”

Miss Temple turned her face to the callous Architect as she said’ “And
what has any honest person to dread from so kind a man as Bumppo?”

“Why, it’s as easy, miss, to pull a rifle trigger on a magistrate as
on a painter.  But if the Judge don’t conclude to issue the warrant, I
must go home and make it out myself.”

“I have not refused your application, sir,” said Marmaduke, perceiving
at once that his reputation for impartiality was at stake; “go into my
office, Mr. Doolittle, where I will join you, and sign the warrant.”
Judge Temple stopped the remonstrances which Elizabeth was about to
utter, after Hiram had withdrawn, by laying his hand on her mouth, and
saying:

“It is more terrible in sound than frightful in reality, my child.  I
suppose that the Leather-Stocking has shot a deer, for the season is
nearly over, and you say that he was hunting with his dogs when he
came so timely to your assistance.  But it will be only to examine his
cabin, and find the animal, when you can pay the penalty out of your
own pocket, Bess.  Nothing short of the twelve dollars and a half will
satisfy this harpy, I perceive; and surely my reputation as judge is
worth that trifle.”

Elizabeth was a good deal pacified with this assurance, and suffered
her father to leave her, to fulfil his promise to Hiram.

When Marmaduke left his office after executing his disagreeable duty,
he met Oliver Edwards, walking up the gravelled walk in front of the
mansion-house with great strides, and with a face agitated by feeling.
On seeing judge Temple, the youth turned aside, and with a warmth in
his manner that was not often exhibited to Marmaduke, he cried:

“I congratulate you, sir; from the bottom of my soul, I congratulate
you, Judge Temple.  Oh! it would have been too horrid to have
recollected for a moment! I have just left the hut, where, after
showing me his scalps, old Natty told me of the escape of the ladies,
as the thing to be mentioned last.  Indeed, indeed, sir, no words of
mine can express half of what I have felt “—the youth paused a moment,
as if suddenly recollecting that he was overstepping prescribed
limits, and concluded with a good deal of embarrassment—” what I have
felt at this danger to Miss—Grant, and—and your daughter, sir,”

But the heart of Marmaduke was too much softened to admit his
cavilling at trifles, and, without regarding the confusion of the
other, he replied:

“I thank thee, thank thee, Oliver; as thou sayest, it is almost too
horrid to be remembered.  But come, let us hasten to Bess, for Louisa
has already gone to the rectory.”

The young man sprang forward, and, throwing open a door, barely
permitted the Judge to precede him, when he was in the presence of
Elizabeth in a moment.

The cold distance that often crossed the demeanor of the heiress, in
her intercourse with Edwards, was now entirely banished, and two hours
were passed by the party, in the free, unembarrassed, and confiding
manner of old and esteemed friends.  Judge Temple had forgotten the
suspicions engendered during his morning’s ride, and the youth and
maiden conversed, laughed, and were sad by turns, as impulse directed.

At length, Edwards, after repeating his intention to do so for the
third time, left the mansion-house to go to the rectory on a similar
errand of friendship.

During this short period, a scene was passing at the hut that
completely frustrated the benevolent intentions of Judge Temple in
favor of the Leather-Stocking, and at once destroyed the short-lived
harmony between the youth and Marmaduke.

When Hiram Doolittle had obtained his search-warrant, his first
business was to procure a proper officer to see it executed.  The
sheriff was absent, summoning in person the grand inquest for the
county; the deputy who resided in the village was riding on the same
errand, in a different part of the settlement; and the regular
constable of the township had been selected for his station from
motives of charity, being lame of a leg.  Hiram intended to accompany
the officer as a spectator, but he felt no very strong desire to bear
the brunt of the battle.  It was, however, Saturday, and the sun was
already turning the shadows of the pines toward the east; on the
morrow the conscientious magistrate could not engage in such an
expedition at the peril of his soul and long before Monday, the
venison, and all vestiges of the death of the deer, might be secreted
or destroyed.  Happily, the lounging form of Billy Kirby met his eye,
and Hiram, at all time fruitful in similar expedients, saw his way
clear at once.  Jotham, who was associated in the whole business, and
who had left the mountain in consequence of a summons from his
coadjutor, but who failed, equally with Hiram, in the unfortunate
particular of nerve, was directed to summon the wood-chopper to the
dwelling of the magistrate.

When Billy appeared, he was very kindly invited to take the chair in
which he had already seated himself, and was treated in all respects
as if he were an equal.

“Judge Temple has set his heart on putting the deer law in force,”
said Hiram, after the preliminary civilities were over, “and a
complaint has been laid before him that a deer has been killed.  He
has issued a search-warrant, and sent for me to get somebody to
execute it.”

Kirby, who had no idea of being excluded from the deliberative part of
any affair in which he was engaged, drew up his bushy head in a
reflecting attitude, and after musing a moment, replied by asking a
few questions,

“The sheriff has gone out of the way?”

“Not to be found.”

“And his deputy too?”

“Both gone on the skirts of the Patent.”

“But I saw the constable hobbling about town an hour ago.”

“Yes, yes,” said Hiram, with a coaxing smile and knowing nod, “but
this business wants a man—not a cripple.”

“Why,” said Billy, laughing, “ will the chap make fight?” “He’s a
little quarrelsome at times, and thinks he’s the best man in the
country at rough and tumble.”

“I heard him brag once,” said Jotham, “that there wasn’t a man ‘twixt
the Mohawk Flats and the Pennsylvany line that was his match at a
close hug.”

“Did you?” exclaimed Kirby, raising his huge frame in his seat, like a
lion stretching in his lair; “I rather guess he never felt a
Varmounter’s knuckles on his backbone-But who is the chap?”

“Why,” said Jotham, “ it’s—”

“It’s agin’ law to tell,” interrupted Hiram unless you’ll qualify to
sarve.  You’d be the very man to take him, Bill, and I'll make out a
special deputation in a minute, when you will get the fees.”

“What’s the fees?” said Kirby, laying his large hand on the leaves of
a statute-book that Hiram had opened in order to give dignity to his
office, which he turned over in his rough manner, as if he were
reflecting on a subject about which he had, in truth, already decided;
“will they pay a man for a broken head?”

“They’ll be something handsome,” said Hiram.

“Damn the fees,” said Billy, again laughing—” does the fellow think
he’s the best wrestler in the county, though? what’s his inches?”

“He’s taller than you be,” said Jotham, “and one of the biggest—”

Talkers, he was about to add, but the impatience of Kirby interrupted
him.  The wood-chopper had nothing fierce or even brutal in his
appearance; the character of his expression was that of good-natured
vanity.  It was evident he prided himself on the powers of the
physical man, like all who have nothing better to boast of; and,
stretching out his broad hand, with the palm downward, he said,
keeping his eyes fastened on his own bones and sinews:

“Come, give us a touch of the book.  I’ll swear, and you’ll see that
I’m a man to keep my oath.”

Hiram did not give the wood-chopper time to change his mind, but the
oath was administered without unnecessary delay.  So soon as this
preliminary was completed, the three worthies left the house, and
proceeded by the nearest road toward the hut.  They had reached the
bank of the lake, and were diverging from the route of the highway,
before Kirby recollected that he was now entitled to the privilege of
the initiated, and repeated his question as to the name of the
offender,

“Which way, which way, squire?” exclaimed the hardy wood-chopper; “I
thought it was to search a house that you wanted me, not the woods.
There is nobody lives on this side of the lake, for six miles, unless
you count the Leather-Stocking and old John for settlers.  Come, tell
me the chap’s name, and I warrant me that I lead you to his clearing
by a straighter path than this, for I know every sapling that grows
within two miles of Templeton.”

“This is the way,” said Hiram, pointing forward and quickening his
step, as if apprehensive that Kirby would desert, “and Bumppo is the
man.”

Kirby stopped short, and looked from one of his companions to the
other in astonishment.  He then burst into a loud laugh, and cried:

“Who? Leather-Stocking! He may brag of his aim and his rifle, for he
has the best of both, as I will own myself, for sin’ he shot the
pigeon I knock under to him; but for a wrestle! why, I would take the
creatur’ between my finger and thumb, and tie him in a bow-knot around
my neck for a Barcelony.  The man is seventy, and was never anything
particular for strength.”

“He’s a deceiving man,” said Hiram, “like all the hunters; he is
stronger than he seems; besides, he has his rifle.”

“That for his rifle!” cried Billy; “he’d no more hurt me with his
rifle than he’d fly.  He’s a harmless creatur’, and I must say that I
think he has as good right to kill deer as any man on the Patent.
It’s his main support, and this is a free country, where a man is
privileged to follow any calling he likes.”

“According to that doctrine,” said Jotham, “anybody may shoot a deer.”

This is the man’s calling, I tell you,” returned Kirby, “and the law
was never made for such as he.”

“The law was made for all,” observed Hiram, who began to think that
the danger was likely to fall to his own share, notwithstanding his
management; “and the law is particular in noticing parjury.”

“See here, Squire Doolittle,” said the reckless woodchopper; “I don’t
care the valie of a beetlering for you and your parjury too.  But as I
have come so far, I’ll go down and have a talk with the old man, and
maybe we’ll fry a steak of the deer together.”

“Well, if you can get in peaceably, so much the better,” said the
magistrate.  “To my notion, strife is very unpopular; I prefar, at all
times, clever conduct to an ugly temper.”

As the whole party moved at a great pace, they soon reached the hut,
where Hiram thought it prudent to halt on the outside of the top of
the fallen pine, which formed a chevaux-de-frise, to defend the
approach to the fortress, on the side next the village.  The delay was
little relished by Kirby, who clapped his hands to his mouth, and gave
a loud halloo that brought the dogs out of their kennel, and, almost
at the same instant, the scantily-covered head of Natty from the door.

“Lie down, old fool,” cried the hunter; “do you think there’s more
painters about you?”

“Ha! Leather-Stocking, I’ve an arrand with you,” cried Kirby; “here’s
the good people of the State have been writing you a small letter, and
they’ve hired me to ride
post.”

“What would you have with me, Billy Kirby?” said Natty, stepping
across his threshold, and raising his hand over his eyes, to screen
them from the rays of the setting sun, while he took a survey of his
visitor.  ‘I’ve no land to clear, and Heaven knows I would set out six
trees afore I would cut down one.—Down, Hector, I say; into your
kennel with ye.”

“Would you, old boy?” roared Billy; “then so much the better for me.
But I must do my arrand.  Here’s a letter for you, Leather-Stocking.
If you can read it, it’s all well, and if you can’t, here’s Squire
Doolittle at hand, to let you know what it means.  It seems you
mistook the twentieth of July for the first of August.  that’s all.”

By this time Natty had discovered the lank person of Hiram, drawn up
under the cover of a high stump; and all that was complacent in his
manner instantly gave way to marked distrust and dissatisfaction.  He
placed his head within the door of his hut, and said a few words in an
undertone, when he again appeared, and continued:

“I’ve nothing for ye; so away, afore the Evil One tempts me to do you
harm.  I owe you no spite, Billy Kirby, and what for should you
trouble an old man who has done you no harm?”

Kirby advanced through the top of the pine, to within a few feet of
the hunter, where he seated himself on the end of a log, with great
composure, and began to examine the nose of Hector, with whom he was
familiar, from their frequently meeting in the woods, where he
sometimes fed the dog from his own basket of provisions.

“You’ve outshot me, and I’m not ashamed to say it,” said the wood-
chopper; “but I don’t owe you a grudge for that, Natty! though it
seems that you’ve shot once too often, for the story goes that you’ve
killed a buck.”

“I’ve fired but twice to-day, and both times at the painters,”
returned the Leather-Stocking; “see, here are the scalps! I was just
going in with them to the Judge’s to ask the bounty.”

While Natty was speaking, he tossed the ears to Kirby, who continued
playing with them with a careless air, holding them to the dogs, and
laughing at their movements when they scented the unusual game.

But Hiram, emboldened by the advance of the deputed constable, now
ventured to approach also, and took up the discourse with the air of
authority that became his commission.  His first measure was to read
the warrant aloud, taking care to give due emphasis to the most
material parts, and concluding with the name of the Judge in very
audible and distinct tones.

“Did Marmaduke Temple put his name to that bit of paper?” said Natty,
shaking his head; “well, well, that man loves the new ways, and his
betterments, and his lands, afore his own flesh and blood.  But I
won’t mistrust the gal; she has an eye like a full-grown buck! poor
thing, she didn’t choose her father, and can’t help it.  I know but
little of the law, Mr. Doolittle; what is to be done, now you’ve read
your commission?”

“Oh! it’s nothing but form, Natty,” said Hiram, endeavoring to assume
a friendly aspect.  “Let’s go in, and talk the thing over in reason; I
dare to say that the money can be easily found, and I partly conclude,
from what passed, that Judge Temple will pay it himself.”

The old hunter had kept a keen eye on the movements of his three
visitors, from the beginning, and had maintained his position, just
without the threshold of the cabin, with a determined manner, that
showed he was not to be easily driven from his post.  When Hiram drew
nigher, as if expecting his proposition would be accepted, Natty
lifted his hand, and motioned for him to retreat.

“Haven’t I told you more than once, not to tempt me?” he said.  “I
trouble no man; why can’t the law leave me to myself? Go back—go back,
and tell your Judge that he may keep his bounty; but I won’t have his
wasty ways brought into my hut.”

This offer, however, instead of appeasing the curiosity of Hiram,
seemed to inflame it the more; while Kirby cried:

“Well, that’s fair, squire; he forgives the county his demand, and the
county should forgive him the fine; it’s what I call an even trade,
and should be concluded on the spot.  I like quick dealings, and
what’s fair ‘twixt man and man.”

“I demand entrance into this house,” said Hiram, summoning all the
dignity he could muster to his assistance, “in the name of the people;
and by virtue of this war rant, and of my office, and with this peace
officer.”

“Stand back, stand back, squire, and don’t tempt me,” said the
Leather-Stocking, motioning him to retire, with great earnestness.

“Stop us at your peril,” continued Hiram.  “Billy! Jotham! close up—I
want testimony.”

Hiram had mistaken the mild but determined air of Natty for
submission, and had already put his foot on the threshold to enter,
when he was seized unexpectedly by his shoulders, and hurled over the
little bank toward the lake, to the distance of twenty feet.  The
suddenness of the movement, and the unexpected display of strength on
the part of Natty, created a momentary astonishment in his invaders,
that silenced all noises; but at the next instant Billy Kirby gave
vent to his mirth in peals of laughter, that he seemed to heave up
from his very soul.

“Well done, old stub!” he shouted; “the squire knowed you better than
I did.  Come, come, here’s a green spot; take it out like men, while
Jotham and I see fair play.”

“William Kirby, I order you to do your duty,” cried Hiram, from under
the bank; “seize that man; I order you to seize him in the name of the
people.”

But the Leather-Stocking now assumed a more threatening attitude; his
rifle was in his hand, and its muzzle was directed toward the wood-
chopper.

“Stand off, I bid ye,” said Natty; “you know my aim, Billy Kirby; I
don’t crave your blood, but mine and your’n both shall turn this green
grass red, afore you put foot into the hut.”

While the affair appeared trifling, the wood-chopper seemed disposed
to take sides with the weaker party; but, when the firearms were
introduced, his manner very sensibly changed.  He raised his large
frame from the log, and, facing the hunter with an open front, he
replied:

“I didn’t come here as your enemy, Leather-Stocking; but I don’t value
the hollow piece of iron in your hand so much as a broken axe-helve;
so, squire, say the word, and keep within the law, and we’ll soon see
who’s the best main of the two.”

But no magistrate was to be seen! The instant the rifle was produced
Hiram and Jotham vanished; and when the wood-chopper bent his eyes
about him in surprise at receiving no answer, he discovered their
retreating figures moving toward the village at a rate that
sufficiently indicated that they had not only calculated the velocity
of a rifle-bullet, but also its probable range.

“You’ve scared the creatur’s off,” said Kirby, with great contempt
expressed on his broad features; “but you are not going to scare me;
so, Mr. Bumppo, down with your gun, or there’ll be trouble ‘twixt us.”
Natty dropped his rifle, and replied:

“I wish you no harm, Billy Kirby; but I leave it to yourself, whether
an old man’s hut is to be run down by such varmint.  I won’t deny the
buck to you, Billy, and you may take the skin in, if you please, and
show it as testimony.  The bounty will pay the fine, and that ought to
satisfy any man,”

“Twill, old boy, ‘twill,” cried Kirby, every- shade of displeasure
vanishing from his open brow at the peace-offering; “throw out the
hide, and that shall satisfy the law.”

Natty entered the hut, and soon reappeared, bringing with him the
desired testimonial; and the wood-chopper departed, as thoroughly
reconciled to the hunter as if nothing had happened.  As he paced
along the margin of the lake he would burst into frequent fits of
laughter, while he recollected the summerset of Hiram: and, on the
whole, he thought the affair a very capital joke.

Long before Billy’ reached the village, however, the news of his
danger, and of Natty’s disrespect of the law, and of Hiram’s
discomfiture, were in circulation.  A good deal was said about sending
for the sheriff; some hints were given about calling out the posse
comitatus to avenge the insulted laws; and many of the citizens were
collected, deliberating how to proceed.  The arrival of Billy with the
skin, by removing all grounds for a search, changed the complexion of
things materially.  Nothing now remained but to collect the fine and
assert the dignity of the people; all of which, it was unanimously
agreed, could be done as well on the succeeding Monday as on Saturday
night—a time kept sacred by large portion of the settlers.
Accordingly, all further proceedings were suspended for six-and-thirty
hours.