The Deerslayer | Page 5

a cloudless day in June, while the trunks of the trees rose in gloomy grandeur in the
shades beneath. The calls were in different tones, evidently proceeding from two men
who had lost their way, and were searching in different directions for their path. At length
a shout proclaimed success, and presently a man of gigantic mould broke out of the
tangled labyrinth of a small swamp, emerging into an opening that appeared to have been
formed partly by the ravages of the wind, and partly by those of fire. This little area,
which afforded a good view of the sky, although it was pretty well filled with dead trees,
lay on the side of one of the high hills, or low mountains, into which nearly the whole
surface of the adjacent country was broken.
"Here is room to breathe in!" exclaimed the liberated forester, as soon as he found
himself under a clear sky, shaking his huge frame like a mastiff that has just escaped
from a snowbank. "Hurrah! Deerslayer; here is daylight, at last, and yonder is the lake."
These words were scarcely uttered when the second forester dashed aside the bushes of
the swamp, and appeared in the area. After making a hurried adjustment of his arms and
disordered dress, he joined his companion, who had already begun his disposition for a
halt.
"Do you know this spot!" demanded the one called Deerslayer," or do you shout at the
sight of the sun?"
"Both, lad, both; I know the spot, and am not sorry to see so useful a fri'nd as the sun.
Now we have got the p'ints of the compass in our minds once more, and 't will be our
own faults if we let anything turn them topsy-turvy ag'in, as has just happened. My name
is not Hurry Harry, if this be not the very spot where the land-hunters camped the last
summer, and passed a week. See I yonder are the dead bushes of their bower, and here is
the spring. Much as I like the sun, boy, I've no occasion for it to tell me it is noon; this
stomach of mine is as good a time-piece as is to be found in the colony, and it already
p'ints to half-past twelve. So open the wallet, and let us wind up for another six hours'
run."
At this suggestion, both set themselves about making the preparations necessary for their
usual frugal but hearty meal. We will profit by this pause in the discourse to give the
reader some idea of the appearance of the men, each of whom is destined to enact no
insignificant part in our legend.
It would not have been easy to find a more noble specimen of vigorous manhood than
was offered in the person of him who called himself Hurry Harry. His real name was
Henry March but the frontiersmen having caught the practice of giving sobriquets from
the Indians, the appellation of Hurry was far oftener applied to him than his proper
designation, and not unfrequently he was termed Hurry Skurry, a nickname he had
obtained from a dashing, reckless offhand manner, and a physical restlessness that kept
him so constantly on the move, as to cause him to be known along the whole line of

scattered habitations that lay between the province and the Canadas. The stature of Hurry
Harry exceeded six feet four, and being unusually well proportioned, his strength fully
realized the idea created by his gigantic frame. The face did no discredit to the rest of the
man, for it was both good-humored and handsome. His air was free, and though his
manner necessarily partook of the rudeness of a border life, the grandeur that pervaded so
noble a physique prevented it from becoming altogether vulgar.
Deerslayer, as Hurry called his companion, was a very different person in appearance, as
well as in character. In stature he stood about six feet in his moccasins, but his frame was
comparatively light and slender, showing muscles, however, that promised unusual
agility, if not unusual strength. His face would have had little to recommend it except
youth, were it not for an expression that seldom failed to win upon those who had leisure
to examine it, and to yield to the feeling of confidence it created. This expression was
simply that of guileless truth, sustained by an earnestness of purpose, and a sincerity of
feeling, that rendered it remarkable. At times this air of integrity seemed to be so simple
as to awaken the suspicion of a want of the usual means to discriminate between artifice
and truth; but few came in serious contact with the man, without losing this distrust in
respect for his opinions and motives.
Both these frontiersmen were still young, Hurry having