The Pioneers James Fenimore Cooper
“What, old Leatherstocking, are you out this morning?” cried his reckless opponent. “Well, fair play’s a jewel. I’ve the lead of you, old fellow; so here goes for a dry throat or a good dinner.”
The countenance of the Negro evinced not only all the interest which his pecuniary adventure might occasion, but also the keen excitement that the sport produced in the others, though with a very different wish as to the result. While the wood chopper was slowly and steadily raising his rifle, he bawled:
“Fair play, Billy Kirby—stand back—make ’em stand back, boys—gib a nibber fair play—poss-up, gobbler; shake a head, fool; don’t you see ’em taking aim?”
These cries, which were intended as much to distract the attention of the marksman as for anything else, were fruitless.
The nerves of the wood chopper were not so easily shaken, and he took his aim with the utmost deliberation. Stillness prevailed for a moment, and he fired. The head of the turkey was seen to dash on one side, and its wings were spread in momentary fluttering; but it settled itself down calmly into its bed of snow, and glanced its eyes uneasily around. For a time long enough to draw a deep breath, not a sound was heard. The silence was then broken by the noise of the Negro, who laughed, and shook his body, with all kinds of antics, rolling over in the snow in the excess of delight.
“Well done a gobbler,” he cried, jumping up and affecting to embrace his bird; “I tell ’em to poss-up, and you see ’em dodge. Gib anoder shillin’, Billy, and hab anoder shot.”
“No—the shot is mine,” said the young hunter; “you have my money already. Leave the mark, and let me try my luck.”
“Ah! It’s but money thrown away, lad,” said Leatherstocking. “A turkey’s head and neck is but a small mark for a new hand and a lame shoulder. You’d best let me take the fire, and maybe we can make some settlement with the lady about the bird.”
“The chance is mine,” said the young hunter. “Clear the ground, that I may take it.”
The discussions and disputes concerning the last shot were now abating, it having been determined that if the turkey’s head had been anywhere but just where it was at the moment, the bird must certainly have been killed. There was not much excitement produced by the preparations of the youth, who proceeded in a hurried manner to take his aim, and was in the act of pulling the trigger, when he was stopped by Natty.
“Your hand shakes, lad,” he said, “and you seem overeager. Bullet wounds are apt to weaken flesh, and to my judgment, you’ll not shoot so well as in common. If you will fire, you should shoot quick, before there is time to shake off the aim.”
“Fair play,” again shouted the Negro; “fair play—gib a nigger fair play. What right a Nat-Bumppo advise a young man? Let ’em shoot—clear a ground.”
The youth fired with great rapidity, but no motion was made by the turkey; and when the examiners for the ball returned from the “mark,” they declared that he had missed the stump.
Elizabeth observed the change in his countenance, and could not help feeling surprise, that one so evidently superior to his companions should feel a trifling loss so sensibly. But her own champion was now preparing to enter the lists.
The mirth of Brom, which had been again excited, though in a much smaller degree than before, by the failure of the second adventurer, vanished the instant Natty took his stand. His skin became mottled with large brown spots, that fearfully sullied the luster of his native ebony, while his enormous lips gradually compressed around two rows of ivory that had hitherto been shining in his visage, like pearls set in jet. His nostrils, at all times the most conspicuous features of his face, dilated, until they covered the greater part of the diameter of his countenance; while his brown and bony hands unconsciously grasped the snowcrust near him, the excitement of the moment completely overcoming his native dread of cold.
While these indications of apprehension were exhibited in the sable owner of the turkey, the man who gave rise to this extraordinary emotion was as calm and collected as if there was not to be a single spectator of his skill.
“I was down in the Dutch settlements on the Schoharie,” said Natty, carefully removing the leather guard from the lock of his rifle, “just before the breaking out of the last war, and there was a shooting match among the boys; so I took a hand. I think I opened a good many Dutch eyes that day; for I won the powder horn, three bars of lead, and a pound of as good powder as ever flashed in pan. Lord! How they did swear in Jarman! They did tell me of one drunken Dutchman who said he’d have the life of me before I got back to the lake ag’in. But if he had put his rifle to his shoulder with evil intent God would have punished him for it; and even if the Lord didn’t, and he had missed his aim, I know one that would have given him as good as he sent, and better too, if good shooting could come into the ’count.”
By this time the old hunter was ready for his business, and throwing his right leg far behind him, and stretching his left arm along the barrel of his piece, he raised it towards the bird. Every eye glanced rapidly from the marksman to the mark; but at the moment when each ear was expecting the report of the rifle, they were disappointed by the ticking sound of the flint.
“A snap, a snap!” shouted the Negro, springing from his crouching posture like a madman, before his bird. “A snap good as fire—Natty Bumppo gun he snap—Natty Bumppo miss a turkey!”
“Natty Bumppo hit a nigger,” said the indignant old hunter, “if you don’t get out of the way, Brom. It’s contrary to the reason of the thing, boy, that a snap should count for a fire, when one is nothing more than a firestone striking a steel pan, and the other is sudden death; so get out of my way, boy, and let me show Billy Kirby how to shoot a Christmas turkey.”
“Gib a nigger fair play!” cried the black, who continued resolutely to maintain his post, and making that appeal to the justice of his auditors, which the degraded condition of his caste so naturally suggested. “Ebery body know dat snap as good as fire. Leab it to Massa Jone—leab it to lady.”
“Sartain,” said the wood chopper; “it’s the law of the game in this part of the country, Leatherstocking. If you fire ag’in you must pay up the other shilling. I b’lieve I’ll try luck once more myself; so Brom, here’s my money, and I take the next fire.”
“It’s likely you know the laws of the woods better than I do, Billy Kirby,” returned Natty. “You come in with the settlers, with an oxgoad in your hand, and I come in with moccasins on my feet, and with a good rifle on my shoulder, so long back as afore the old war. Which is likely to know the best? I say no man need tell me that snapping is as good as firing when I pull the trigger.”
“Leab it to Massa Jone,” said the alarmed Negro; “he know ebery ting.”
This appeal to the knowledge of Richard was too flattering to be unheeded. He therefore advanced a little from the spot whither the delicacy of Elizabeth had induced her to withdraw, and gave the following opinion, with the gravity that the subject and his own rank demanded:
“There seems to be a difference in opinion,” he said, “on the subject of Nathaniel Bumppo’s right to shoot at Abraham Freeborn’s turkey, without the said Nathaniel paying one shilling for the privilege.” This fact was too evident to be denied, and after pausing a moment, that the audience might digest his premises, Richard proceeded. “It seems proper that I should decide this question, as I am bound to preserve the peace of the county; and men with deadly weapons in their hands should not be heedlessly left to contention and their own malignant passions. It appears that there was no agreement, either in writing or in words, on the disputed point; therefore we must reason from analogy, which is, as it were, comparing one thing with another. Now, in duels, where both parties shoot, it is generally the rule that a snap is a fire; and if such is the rule, where the party has a right to fire back again, it seems to me unreasonable to say that a man may stand snapping at a defenseless turkey all day. I therefore am of opinion that Nathaniel Bumppo has lost his chance, and must pay another shilling befo
re he renews his right.”
As this opinion came from so high a quarter, and was delivered with effect, it silenced all murmurs—for the whole of the spectators had begun to take sides with great warmth—except from the Leatherstocking himself.
“I think Miss Elizabeth’s thoughts should be taken,” said Natty. “I’ve known the squaws give very good counsel when the Indians have been dumbfoundered. If she says that I ought to lose, I agree to give it up.”
“Then I adjudge you to be a loser for this time,” said Miss Temple; “but pay your money and renew your chance; unless Brom will sell me the bird for a dollar. I will give him the money and save the life of the poor victim.”
This proposition was evidently but little relished by any of the listeners, even the Negro feeling the evil excitement of the chances. In the meanwhile, as Billy Kirby was preparing himself for another shot, Natty left the stand, with an extremely dissatisfied manner, muttering:
“There hasn’t been such a thing as a good flint sold at the foot of the lake since the Indian traders used to come into the country; and if a body should go into the flats along the streams in the hills to hunt for such a thing, it’s ten to one but they will be all covered up with the plow. Heigh-ho! It seems to me that just as the game grows scarce, and a body wants the best ammunition to get a livelihood, everything that’s bad falls on him, like a judgment. But I’ll change the stone, for Billy Kirby hasn’t the eye for such a mark, I know.”
The wood chopper seemed now entirely sensible that his reputation depended on his care; nor did he neglect any means to insure success. He drew up his rifle and renewed his aim again and again, still appearing reluctant to fire. No sound was heard from even Brom, during these portentous movements, until Kirby discharged his piece, with the same want of success as before. Then, indeed, the shouts of the Negro rang through the bushes and sounded among the trees of the neighboring forest like the outcries of a tribe of Indians. He laughed, rolling his head first on one side, then on the other, until nature seemed exhausted with mirth. He danced until his legs were wearied with motion, in the snow; and, in short, he exhibited all that violence of joy that characterizes the mirth of a thoughtless Negro.
The wood chopper had exerted all his art, and felt a proportionate degree of disappointment at the failure. He first examined the bird with the utmost attention, and more than once suggested that he had touched its feathers; but the voice of the multitude was against him, for it felt disposed to listen to the often repeated cries of the black, to “gib a nigger fair play.”
Finding it impossible to make out a title to the bird, Kirby turned fiercely to the black, and said:
“Shut your oven, you crow! Where is the man that can hit a turkey’s head at a hundred yards? I was a fool for trying. You needn’t make an uproar, like a falling pine tree, about it. Show me the man who can do it.”
“Look this-a-way, Billy Kirby,” said Leatherstocking, “and let them clear the mark, and I’ll show you a man who’s made better shots afore now, and that when he’s been hard pressed by the savages and wild beasts.”
“Perhaps there is one whose rights come before ours, Leatherstocking,” said Miss Temple; “if so, we will waive our privilege.”
“If it be me that you have reference to,” said the young hunter, “I shall decline another chance. My shoulder is yet weak, I find.”
Elizabeth regarded his manner, and thought that she could discern a tinge on his cheek that spoke the shame of conscious poverty. She said no more, but suffered her own champion to make a trial. Although Natty Bumppo had certainly made hundreds of more momentous shots at his enemies or his game, yet he never exerted himself more to excel. He raised his piece three several times; once to get his range; once to calculate his distance; and once because the bird, alarmed by the deathlike stillness, turned its head quickly to examine its foes. But the fourth time he fired. The smoke, the report, and the momentary shock prevented most of the spectators from instantly knowing the result; but Elizabeth, when she saw her champion drop the end of his rifle in the snow and open his mouth in one of its silent laughs, and then proceed very coolly to recharge his piece, knew that he had been successful. The boys rushed to the mark and lifted the turkey on high, lifeless, and with nothing but the remnant of a head.
“Bring in the creater,” said Leatherstocking, “and put it at the feet of the lady. I was her deputy in the matter, and the bird is her property.”
“And a good deputy you have proved yourself,” returned Elizabeth,—“so good, cousin Richard, that I would advise you to remember his qualities.” She paused, and the gaiety that beamed on her face gave place to a more serious earnestness. She even blushed a little as she turned to the young hunter, and, with the charm of a woman’s manner, added—“But it was only to see an exhibition of the far-famed skill of Leatherstocking that I tried my fortunes. Will you, sir, accept the bird as a small peace offering for the hurt that prevented your own success?”
The expression with which the youth received this present was indescribable. He appeared to yield to the blandishment of her air, in opposition to a strong inward impulse to the contrary. He bowed and raised the victim silently from her feet, but continued silent.
Elizabeth handed the black a piece of silver as a remuneration for his loss, which had some effect in again unbending his muscles, and then expressed to her companion her readiness to return homeward.
“Wait a minute, cousin Bess,” cried Richard; “there is an uncertainty about the rules of this sport that it is proper I should remove. If you will appoint a committee, gentlemen, to wait on me this morning, I will draw up in writing a set of regulations——” He stopped, with some indignation, for at that instant a hand was laid familiarly on the shoulder of the High Sheriff of——.
“A Merry Christmas to you, cousin Dickon,” said Judge Temple, who had approached the party unperceived: “I must have a vigilant eye to my daughter, sir, if you are to be seized daily with these gallant fits. I admire the taste which would introduce a lady to such scenes!”
“It is her own perversity, ’duke,” cried the disappointed Sheriff, who felt the loss of the first salutation as grievously as many a man would a much greater misfortune; “and I must say that she comes honestly by it. I led her out to show her the improvements, but away she scampered, through the snow, at the first sound of firearms, the same as if she had been brought up in a camp, instead of a first-rate boarding school. I do think, Judge Temple, that such dangerous amusements should be suppressed by statute; nay, I doubt whether they are not already indictable at common law.”
“Well, sir, as you are Sheriff of the county, it becomes your duty to examine into the matter,” returned the smiling Marmaduke. “I perceive that Bess has executed her commission, and I hope it met with a favorable reception.” Richard glanced his eye at the packet which he held in his hand, and the slight anger produced by disappointment vanished instantly.
“Ah! ’duke, my dear cousin,” he said, “step a little on one side; I have something I would say to you.” Marmaduke complied, and the Sheriff led him to a little distance in the bushes and continued—“First, ’duke, let me thank you for your friendly interest with the Council and the Governor, without which, I am confident that the greatest merit would avail but little. But we are sisters’ children—we are sisters’ children; and you may use me like one of your horses; ride me or drive me, ’duke, I am wholly yours. But in my humble opinion, this young companion of Leatherstocking requires looking after. He has a very dangerous propensity for turkey.”
“Leave him to my management, Dickon,” said the Judge, “and I will cure his appetite by indulgence. It is with him that I would speak. Let us rejoin the sportsmen.”
CHAPTER XVIII
Poor wretch! the mother that him bare,
If she had been in presence there,
In his wan face, and sunburnt hair,
She had not known her child.
SCOTT
IT diminished,
in no degree, the effect produced by the conversation which passed between Judge Temple and the young hunter, that the former took the arm of his daughter and drew it through his own, when he advanced from the spot whither Richard had led him to that where the youth was standing, leaning on his rifle, and contemplating the dead bird at his feet. The presence of Marmaduke did not interrupt the sports, which were resumed, by loud and clamorous disputes concerning the conditions of a chance, that involved the life of a bird of much inferior quality to the last. Leatherstocking and Mohegan had alone drawn aside to their youthful companion; and, although in the immediate vicinity of such a throng, the following conversation was heard only by those who were interested in it.
“I have greatly injured you, Mr. Edwards,” said the Judge; but the sudden and inexplicable start, with which the person spoken to received this unexpected address, caused him to pause a moment. As no answer was given, and the strong emotion exhibited in the countenance of the youth gradually passed away, he continued—“But, fortunately, it is in some measure in my power to compensate you for what I have done. My kinsman, Richard Jones, has received an appointment that will, in future, deprive me of his assistance, and leaves me, just now, destitute of one who might greatly aid me with his pen. Your manner, notwithstanding appearances, is a sufficient proof of your education, nor will thy shoulder suffer thee to labor, for some time to come.” (Marmaduke insensibly relapsed into the language of the Friends as he grew warm.) “My doors are open to thee, my young friend, for in this infant country we harbor no suspicions: little offering to tempt the cupidity of the evil disposed. Become my assistant, for at least a season, and receive such compensation as thy services will deserve.”
There was nothing in the manner or the offer of the Judge to justify the reluctance, amounting nearly to loathing, with which the youth listened to his speech: but after a powerful effort for self-command, he replied: