“No, no; it’s a drop for the old Hudson, and a merry time it has till it gets down off the mountain.
I’ve sat on the shelving rock many a long hour, boy, and watched the bubbles as they shot by me, and thought how long it would be before that very water, which seemed made for the wilderness, would be under the bottom of a vessel, and tossing in the salt sea.
It is a spot to make a man solemnize.
You go right down into the valley that lies to the east of the High Peak, where, in the fall of the year, thousands of acres of woods are before your eyes, in the deep hollow, and along the side of the mountain, painted like ten thousand rainbows, by no hand of man, though without the ordering of God’s providence.”
“You are eloquent, Leather-Stocking,” exclaimed the youth.
“Anan!” repeated Natty.
“The recollection of the sight has warmed your blood, old man.
How many years is it since you saw the place?”
The hunter made no reply; but, bending his ear near the water, he sat holding his breath, and listening attentively as if to some distant sound.
At length he raised his head, and said:
“If I hadn’t fastened the hounds with my own hands, with a fresh leash of green buckskin, I’d take a Bible oath that I heard old Hector ringing his cry on the mountain.”
“It is impossible,” said Edwards; “it is not an hour since I saw him in his kennel.”
By this time the attention of Mohegan was attracted to the sounds; but, notwithstanding the youth was both silent and attentive, he could hear nothing but the lowing of some cattle from the western hills.
He looked at the old men, Natty sitting with his hand to his ear, like a trumpet, and Mohegan bending forward, with an arm raised to a level with his face, holding the forefinger elevated as a signal for attention, and laughed aloud at what he deemed to be imaginary sounds.
“Laugh if you will, boy,” said Leather-Stocking, “the hounds be out, and are hunting a deer, No man can deceive me in such a matter.
I wouldn’t have had the thing happen for a beaver’s skin.
Not that I care for the law; but the venison is lean now, and the dumb things run the flesh off their own bones for no good.
Now do you hear the hounds?”
Edwards started, as a full cry broke on his ear, changing from the distant sounds that were caused by some intervening hill, to confused echoes that rang among the rocks that the dogs were passing, and then directly to a deep and hollow baying that pealed under the forest under the Lake shore.
These variations in the tones of the hounds passed with amazing rapidity; and, while his eyes were glancing along the margin of the water, a tearing of the branches of the alder and dogwood caught his attention, at a spot near them and at the next moment a noble buck sprang on the shore, and buried himself in the lake.
A full-mouthed cry followed, when Hector and the slut shot through the opening in the bushes, and darted into the lake also, bearing their breasts gallantly against the water.
CHAPTER XXVII.
“Oft in the full descending flood he tries
To lose the scent, and lave his burning sides.”
—Thomson.
“I knowed it—I knowed it!” cried Natty, when both deer and hounds were in full view; “the buck has gone by them with the wind, and it has been too much for the poor rogues; but I must break them of these tricks, or they’ll give me a deal of trouble.
He-ere, he-ere—shore with you, rascals—shore with you—will ye?
Oh! off with you, old Hector, or I’ll hackle your hide with my ramrod when I get ye.”
The dogs knew their master’s voice, and after swimming in a circle, as if reluctant to give over the chase, and yet afraid to persevere, they finally obeyed, and returned to the land, where they filled the air with their cries.
In the mean time the deer, urged by his fears, had swum over half the distance between the shore and the boats, before his terror permitted him to see the new danger.
But at the sounds of Natty’s voice, he turned short in his course and for a few moments seemed about to rush back again, and brave the dogs.
His retreat in this direction was, however, effectually cut off, and, turning a second time, he urged his course obliquely for the centre of the lake, with an intention of landing on the western shore.
As the buck swam by the fishermen, raising his nose high into the air, curling the water before his slim neck like the beak of a galley, the Leather-Stocking began to sit very uneasy in his canoe.
“‘Tis a noble creatur’!” he exclaimed; “what a pair of horns! a man might hang up all his garments on the branches.
Let me see—July is the last month, and the flesh must be getting good.”
While he was talking, Natty had instinctively employed himself in fastening the inner end of the bark rope, that served him for a cable, to a paddle, and, rising suddenly on his legs, he cast this buoy away, and cried;
“Strike out, John! let her go.
The creatur’s a fool to tempt a man in this way.”
Mohegan threw the fastening of the youth’s boat from the canoe, and with one stroke of his paddle sent the light bark over the water like a meteor.
“Hold!” exclaimed Edwards.
“Remember the law, my old friends.
You are in plain sight of the village, and I know that Judge Temple is determined to prosecute all, indiscriminately, who kill deer out of season.”
The remonstrance came too late; the canoe was already far from the skiff, and the two hunters were too much engaged in the pursuit to listen to his voice.
The buck was now within fifty yards of his pursuers, cutting the water gallantly, and snorting at each breath with terror and his exertions, while the canoe seemed to dance over the waves as it rose and fell with the undulations made by its own motion.
Leather-Stocking raised his rifle and freshened the priming, but stood in suspense whether to slay his victim or not.
“Shall I, John or no?” he said.
“It seems but a poor advantage to take of the dumb thing, too.
I won’t; it has taken to the water on its own natur’, which is the reason that God has given to a deer, and I’ll give it the lake play; so, John, lay out your arm, and mind the turn of the buck; it’s easy to catch them, but they’ll turn like a snake.”
The Indian laughed at the conceit of his friend, but continued to send the canoe forward with a velocity’ that proceeded much more from skill than his strength. Both of the old men now used the language of the Delawares when they spoke.
“Hugh!” exclaimed Mohegan; “the deer turns his head.