“You are Hetty Hutter,” said Deerslayer, in the way one puts a question unconsciously to himself, assuming a kindness of tone and manner that were singularly adapted to win the confidence of her he addressed. “Hurry Harry has told me of you, and I know you must be the child?”
“Yes, I’m Hetty Hutter” returned the girl in a low, sweet voice, which nature, aided by some education, had preserved from vulgarity of tone and utterance — ”I’m Hetty; Judith Hutter’s sister; and Thomas Hutter’s youngest daughter.”
“I know your history, then, for Hurry Harry talks considerable, and he is free of speech when he can find other people’s consarns to dwell on. You pass most of your life on the lake, Hetty.”
“Certainly. Mother is dead; father is gone a-trapping, and Judith and I stay at home. What’s your name?”
“That’s a question more easily asked than it is answered, young woman, seeing that I’m so young, and yet have borne more names than some of the greatest chiefs in all America.”
“But you’ve got a name — you don’t throw away one name, before you come honestly by another?”
“I hope not, gal — I hope not. My names have come nat’rally, and I suppose the one I bear now will be of no great lasting, since the Delawares seldom settle on a man’s ra’al title, until such time as he has an opportunity of showing his true natur’, in the council, or on the warpath; which has never behappened me; seeing firstly, because I’m not born a red-skin and have no right to sit in their councillings, and am much too humble to be called on for opinions from the great of my own colour; and, secondly, because this is the first war that has befallen in my time, and no inimy has yet inroaded far enough into the colony, to be reached by an arm even longer than mine.”
“Tell me your names,” added Hetty, looking up at him artlessly, “and, maybe, I’ll tell you your character.”
“There is some truth in that, I’ll not deny, though it often fails. Men are deceived in other men’s characters, and frequently give ‘em names they by no means desarve. You can see the truth of this in the Mingo names, which, in their own tongue, signify the same things as the Delaware names, — at least, so they tell me, for I know little of that tribe, unless it be by report, — and no one can say they are as honest or as upright a nation. I put no great dependence, therefore, on names.”
“Tell me all your names,” repeated the girl, earnestly, for her mind was too simple to separate things from professions, and she did attach importance to a name; “I want to know what to think of you.”
“Well, sartain; I’ve no objection, and you shall hear them all. In the first place, then, I’m Christian, and white-born, like yourself, and my parents had a name that came down from father to son, as is a part of their gifts. My father was called Bumppo; and I was named after him, of course, the given name being Nathaniel, or Natty, as most people saw fit to tarm it.”
“Yes, yes — Natty — and Hetty” interrupted the girl quickly, and looking up from her work again, with a smile: “you are Natty, and I’m Hetty — though you are Bumppo, and I’m Hutter. Bumppo isn’t as pretty as Hutter, is it?”
“Why, that’s as people fancy. Bumppo has no lofty sound, I admit; and yet men have bumped through the world with it. I did not go by this name, howsoever, very long; for the Delawares soon found out, or thought they found out, that I was not given to lying, and they called me, firstly, ‘Straight-tongue.’”
“That’s a good name,” interrupted Hetty, earnestly, and in a positive manner; “don’t tell me there’s no virtue in names!”
“I do not say that, for perhaps I desarved to be so called, lies being no favorites with me, as they are with some. After a while they found out I was quick of foot, and then they called me ‘The Pigeon’; which, you know, has a swift wing, and flies in a straight line.”
“That was a pretty name!” exclaimed Hetty; “pigeons are pretty birds!”
“Most things that God created are pretty in their way, my good gal, though they get to be deformed by mankind, so as to change their natur’s, as well as their appearance. From carrying messages, and striking blind trails, I got at last to following the hunters, when it was thought I was quicker and surer at finding the game than most lads, and then they called me the ‘Lap-ear’; as, they said, I partook of the sagacity of the hound.”
“That’s not so pretty,” answered Hetty; “I hope you didn’t keep that name long.”
“Not after I was rich enough to buy a rifle,” returned the other, betraying a little pride through his usually quiet and subdued manner; “then it was seen I could keep a wigwam in ven’son; and in time I got the name of ‘Deerslayer,’ which is that I now bear; homely as some will think it, who set more value on the scalp of a fellow-mortal than on the horns of a buck.”
“Well, Deerslayer, I’m not one of them,” answered Hetty, simply; “Judith likes soldiers, and flary coats, and fine feathers; but they’re all naught to me. She says the officers are great, and gay, and of soft speech; but they make me shudder, for their business is to kill their fellow-creatures. I like your calling better; and your last name is a very good one — better than Natty Bumppo.”
“This is nat’ral in one of your turn of mind, Hetty, and much as I should have expected. They tell me your sister is handsome — oncommon, for a mortal; and beauty is apt to seek admiration.”
“Did you never see Judith?” demanded the girl, with quick earnestness; “if you never have, go at once and look at her. Even Hurry Harry isn’t more pleasant to look at though she is a woman, and he is a man.”
Deerslayer regarded the girl for a moment with concern. Her pale-face had flushed a little, and her eye, usually so mild and serene, brightened as she spoke, in the way to betray the inward impulses.
“Ay, Hurry Harry,” he muttered to himself, as he walked through the cabin towards the other end of the boat; “this comes of good looks, if a light tongue has had no consarn in it. It’s easy to see which way that poor creatur’s feelin’s are leanin’, whatever may be the case with your Jude’s.”
But an interruption was