I'll be bound, Judith, you wouldn't get the Sarpent, there, to confess there was another in the tribe so much greater than himself, as to become the subject of his idees, and to empl'y his tongue in conversations about his movements, and ways, and food, and all the other little matters that occupy a man when he's not empl'y'd in his greater duties.
He who does this is but little better than a blackguard, in the grain, and them that encourages him is pretty much of the same kidney, let them wear coats as fine as they may, or of what dye they please."
"But this is not another man's wigwam; it belongs to my father, these are his things, and they are wanted in his service."
"That's true, gal; that's true, and it carries weight with it.
Well, when all is before us we may, indeed, best judge which to offer for the ransom, and which to withhold."
Judith was not altogether as disinterested in her feelings as she affected to be.
She remembered that the curiosity of Hetty had been indulged in connection with this chest, while her own had been disregarded, and she was not sorry to possess an opportunity of being placed on a level with her less gifted sister in this one particular.
It appearing to be admitted all round that the enquiry into the contents of the chest ought to be renewed, Deerslayer proceeded to remove the second covering of canvass.
The articles that lay uppermost, when the curtain was again raised on the secrets of the chest, were a pair of pistols, curiously inlaid with silver.
Their value would have been considerable in one of the towns, though as weapons in the woods they were a species of arms seldom employed; never, indeed, unless it might be by some officer from Europe, who visited the colonies, as many were then wont to do, so much impressed with the superiority of the usages of London as to fancy they were not to be laid aside on the frontiers of America.
What occurred on the discovery of these weapons will appear in the succeeding chapter.
Chapter XIII.
"An oaken, broken, elbow-chair; A caudle-cup without an ear; A battered, shattered ash bedstead; A box of deal without a lid; A pair of tongs, but out of joint; A back-sword poker, without point; A dish which might good meat afford once; An Ovid, and an old Concordance." Thomas Sheridan, "A True and Faithful Inventory of the Goods belonging to Dr. Swift," ll.i-6, 13-14.
No sooner did Deerslayer raise the pistols, than he turned to the Delaware and held them up for his admiration.
"Child gun," said the Serpent, smiling, while he handled one of the instruments as if it had been a toy."
"Not it, Sarpent; not it - 'twas made for a man and would satisfy a giant, if rightly used.
But stop; white men are remarkable for their carelessness in putting away fire arms, in chists and corners.
Let me look if care has been given to these."
As Deerslayer spoke, he took the weapon from the hand of his friend and opened the pan.
The last was filled with priming, caked like a bit of cinder, by time, moisture and compression.
An application of the ramrod showed that both the pistols were charged, although Judith could testify that they had probably lain for years in the chest.
It is not easy to portray the surprise of the Indian at this discovery, for he was in the practice of renewing his priming daily, and of looking to the contents of his piece at other short intervals.
"This is white neglect," said Deerslayer, shaking his head, "and scarce a season goes by that some one in the settlements doesn't suffer from it.
It's extr'ornary too, Judith - yes, it's downright extr'ornary that the owner shall fire his piece at a deer, or some other game, or perhaps at an inimy, and twice out of three times he'll miss; but let him catch an accident with one of these forgotten charges, and he makes it sartain death to a child, or a brother, or a fri'nd!
Well, we shall do a good turn to the owner if we fire these pistols for him, and as they're novelties to you and me, Sarpent, we'll try our hands at a mark.
Freshen that priming, and I'll do the same with this, and then we'll see who is the best man with a pistol; as for the rifle, that's long been settled atween us."
Deerslayer laughed heartily at his own conceit, and, in a minute or two, they were both standing on the platform, selecting some object in the Ark for their target.
Judith was led by curiosity to their side.
"Stand back, gal, stand a little back; these we'pons have been long loaded," said Deerslayer, "and some accident may happen in the discharge."
"Then you shall not fire them!
Give them both to the Delaware; or it would be better to unload them without firing."
"That's ag'in usage - and some people say, ag'in manhood; though I hold to no such silly doctrine.
We must fire 'em, Judith; yes, we must fire 'em; though I foresee that neither will have any great reason to boast of his skill."
Judith, in the main, was a girl of great personal spirit, and her habits prevented her from feeling any of the terror that is apt to come over her sex at the report of fire arms.
She had discharged many a rifle, and had even been known to kill a deer, under circumstances that were favorable to the effort.
She submitted therefore, falling a little back by the side of Deerslayer, giving the Indian the front of the platform to himself.
Chingachgook raised the weapon several times, endeavored to steady it by using both hands, changed his attitude from one that was awkward to another still more so, and finally drew the trigger with a sort of desperate indifference, without having, in reality, secured any aim at all.
The consequence was, that instead of hitting the knot which had been selected for the mark, he missed the ark altogether; the bullet skipping along the water like a stone that was thrown by hand.
"Well done - Sarpent - well done -" cried Deerslayer laughing, with his noiseless glee, "you've hit the lake, and that's an expl'ite for some men!
I know'd it, and as much as said it, here, to Judith; for your short we'pons don't belong to red-skin gifts.
You've hit the lake, and that's better than only hitting the air!
Now, stand back and let us see what white gifts can do with a white we'pon. A pistol isn't a rifle, but colour is colour."
The aim of Deerslayer was both quick and steady, and the report followed almost as soon as the weapon rose.
Still the pistol hung fire, as it is termed, and fragments of it flew in a dozen directions, some falling on the roof of the castle, others in the Ark, and one in the water.
Judith screamed, and when the two men turned anxiously towards the girl she was as pale as death, trembling in every limb.
"She's wounded - yes, the poor gal's wounded, Sarpent, though one couldn't foresee it, standing where she did.
We'll lead her in to a seat, and we must do the best for her that our knowledge and skill can afford."
Judith allowed herself to be supported to a seat, swallowed a mouthful of the water that the Delaware offered her in a gourd, and, after a violent fit of trembling that seemed ready to shake her fine frame to dissolution, she burst into tears.
"The pain must be borne, poor Judith - yes, it must be borne," said Deerslayer, soothingly, "though I am far from wishing you not to weep; for weeping often lightens galish feelin's. Where can she be hurt, Sarpent?
I see no signs of blood, nor any rent of skin or garments?"