"THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS\n\nA Narrative of 1757\n\nby James Fenimore Cooper\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION\n\nIt is believed that the scene of this tale, and most of the information\nnecessary to understand its allusions, are rendered sufficiently obvious\nto the reader in the text itself, or in the accompanying notes. Still\nthere is so much obscurity in the Indian traditions, and so much\nconfusion in the Indian names, as to render some explanation useful.\n\nFew men exhibit greater diversity, or, if we may so express it, greater\nantithesis of character, than the native warrior of North America.\nIn war, he is daring, boastful, cunning, ruthless, self-denying,\nand self-devoted; in peace, just, generous, hospitable, revengeful,\nsuperstitious, modest, and commonly chaste. These are qualities, it\nis true, which do not distinguish all alike; but they are so far the\npredominating traits of these remarkable people as to be characteristic.\n\nIt is generally believed that the Aborigines of the American continent\nhave an Asiatic origin. There are many physical as well as moral facts\nwhich corroborate this opinion, and some few that would seem to weigh\nagainst it.\n\nThe color of the Indian, the writer believes, is peculiar to himself,\nand while his cheek-bones have a very striking indication of a Tartar\norigin, his eyes have not. Climate may have had great influence on\nthe former, but it is difficult to see how it can have produced the\nsubstantial difference which exists in the latter. The imagery of the\nIndian, both in his poetry and in his oratory, is oriental; chastened,\nand perhaps improved, by the limited range of his practical knowledge.\nHe draws his metaphors from the clouds, the seasons, the birds, the\nbeasts, and the vegetable world. In this, perhaps, he does no more than\nany other energetic and imaginative race would do, being compelled to\nset bounds to fancy by experience; but the North American Indian clothes\nhis ideas in a dress which is different from that of the African, and\nis oriental in itself. His language has the richness and sententious\nfullness of the Chinese. He will express a phrase in a word, and he will\nqualify the meaning of an entire sentence by a syllable; he will even\nconvey different significations by the simplest inflections of the\nvoice.\n\nPhilologists have said that there are but two or three languages,\nproperly speaking, among all the numerous tribes which formerly occupied\nthe country that now composes the United States. They ascribe the known\ndifficulty one people have to understand another to corruptions and\ndialects. The writer remembers to have been present at an interview\nbetween two chiefs of the Great Prairies west of the Mississippi, and\nwhen an interpreter was in attendance who spoke both their languages.\nThe warriors appeared to be on the most friendly terms, and seemingly\nconversed much together; yet, according to the account of the\ninterpreter, each was absolutely ignorant of what the other said.\nThey were of hostile tribes, brought together by the influence of the\nAmerican government; and it is worthy of remark, that a common policy\nled them both to adopt the same subject. They mutually exhorted each\nother to be of use in the event of the chances of war throwing either of\nthe parties into the hands of his enemies. Whatever may be the truth,\nas respects the root and the genius of the Indian tongues, it is quite\ncertain they are now so distinct in their words as to possess most of\nthe disadvantages of strange languages; hence much of the embarrassment\nthat has arisen in learning their histories, and most of the uncertainty\nwhich exists in their traditions.\n\nLike nations of higher pretensions, the American Indian gives a very\ndifferent account of his own tribe or race from that which is given by\nother people. He is much addicted to overestimating his own perfections,\nand to undervaluing those of his rival or his enemy; a trait which may\npossibly be thought corroborative of the Mosaic account of the creation.\n\nThe whites have assisted greatly in rendering the traditions of the\nAborigines more obscure by their own manner of corrupting names. Thus,\nthe term used in the title of this book has undergone the changes of\nMahicanni, Mohicans, and Mohegans; the latter being the word commonly\nused by the whites. When it is remembered that the Dutch (who first\nsettled New York), the English, and the French, all gave appellations\nto the tribes that dwelt within the country which is the scene of this\nstory, and that the Indians not only gave different names to their\nenemies, but frequently to themselves, the cause of the confusion will\nbe understood.\n\nIn these pages, Lenni-Lenape, Lenope, Delawares, Wapanachki, and\nMohicans, all mean the same people, or tribes of the same stock. The\nMengwe, the Maquas, the Mingoes, and the Iroquois, though not all\nstrictly the same, are identified frequently by the speakers, being\npolitically confederated and opposed to those just named. Mingo was a\nterm of peculiar reproach, as were Mengwe and Maqua in a less degree.\n\nThe Mohicans were the possessors of the country first occupied by the\nEuropeans in this portion of the continent. They were, consequently,\nthe first dispossessed; and the seemingly inevitable fate of all these\npeople, who disappear before the advances, or it might be termed the\ninroads, of civilization, as the verdure of their native forests falls\nbefore the nipping frosts, is represented as having already befallen\nthem. There is sufficient historical truth in the picture to justify the\nuse that has been made of it.\n\nIn point of fact, the country which is the scene of the following tale\nhas undergone as little change, since the historical events alluded to\nhad place, as almost any other district of equal extent within the whole\nlimits of the United States. There are fashionable and well-attended\nwatering-places at and near the spring where Hawkeye halted to drink,\nand roads traverse the forests where he and his friends were compelled\nto journey without even a path. Glen's has a large village; and while\nWilliam Henry, and even a fortress of later date, are only to be traced\nas ruins, there is another village on the shores of the Horican. But,\nbeyond this, the enterprise and energy of a people who have done so much\nin other places have done little here. The whole of that wilderness,\nin which the latter incidents of the legend occurred, is nearly a\nwilderness still, though the red man has entirely deserted this part of\nthe state. Of all the tribes named in these pages, there exist only a\nfew half-civilized beings of the Oneidas, on the reservations of their\npeople in New York. The rest have disappeared, either from the regions\nin which their fathers dwelt, or altogether from the earth.\n\nThere is one point on which we would wish to say a word before closing\nthis preface. Hawkeye calls the Lac du Saint Sacrement, the \"Horican.\"\nAs we believe this to be an appropriation of the name that has its\norigin with ourselves, the time has arrived, perhaps, when the fact\nshould be frankly admitted. While writing this book, fully a quarter of\na century since, it occurred to us that the French name of this lake\nwas too complicated, the American too commonplace, and the Indian too\nunpronounceable, for either to be used familiarly in a work of fiction.\nLooking over an ancient map, it was ascertained that a tribe of Indians,\ncalled \"Les Horicans\" by the French, existed in the neighborhood of this\nbeautiful sheet of water. As every word uttered by Natty Bumppo was\nnot to be received as rigid truth, we took the liberty of putting the\n\"Horican\" into his mouth, as the substitute for \"Lake George.\" The name\nhas appeared to find favor, and all things considered, it may possibly\nbe quite as well to let it stand, instead of going back to the House of\nHanover for the appellation of our finest sheet of water. We relieve our\nconscience by the confession, at all events leaving it to exercise its\nauthority as it may see fit.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 1\n\n     \"Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared:\n     The worst is wordly loss thou canst unfold:--\n     Say, is my kingdom lost?\"--Shakespeare\n\nIt was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America, that\nthe toils and dangers of the wilderness were to be encountered before\nthe adverse hosts could meet. A wide and apparently an impervious\nboundary of forests severed the possessions of the hostile provinces\nof France and England. The hardy colonist, and the trained European who\nfought at his side, frequently expended months in struggling against\nthe rapids of the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of the\nmountains, in quest of an opportunity to exhibit their courage in a more\nmartial conflict. But, emulating the patience and self-denial of the\npracticed native warriors, they learned to overcome every difficulty;\nand it would seem that, in time, there was no recess of the woods so\ndark, nor any secret place so lovely, that it might claim exemption\nfrom the inroads of those who had pledged their blood to satiate their\nvengeance, or to uphold the cold and selfish policy of the distant\nmonarchs of Europe.\n\nPerhaps no district throughout the wide extent of the intermediate\nfrontiers can furnish a livelier picture of the cruelty and fierceness\nof the savage warfare of those periods than the country which lies\nbetween the head waters of the Hudson and the adjacent lakes.\n\nThe facilities which nature had there offered to the march of the\ncombatants were too obvious to be neglected. The lengthened sheet of\nthe Champlain stretched from the frontiers of Canada, deep within the\nborders of the neighboring province of New York, forming a natural\npassage across half the distance that the French were compelled to\nmaster in order to strike their enemies. Near its southern termination,\nit received the contributions of another lake, whose waters were so\nlimpid as to have been exclusively selected by the Jesuit missionaries\nto perform the typical purification of baptism, and to obtain for it\nthe title of lake \"du Saint Sacrement.\" The less zealous English thought\nthey conferred a sufficient honor on its unsullied fountains, when they\nbestowed the name of their reigning prince, the second of the house of\nHanover. The two united to rob the untutored possessors of its wooded\nscenery of their native right to perpetuate its original appellation of\n\"Horican.\"*\n\n     * As each nation of the Indians had its language or its\n     dialect, they usually gave different names to the same\n     places, though nearly all of their appellations were\n     descriptive of the object. Thus a literal translation of the\n     name of this beautiful sheet of water, used by the tribe\n     that dwelt on its banks, would be \"The Tail of the Lake.\"\n     Lake George, as it is vulgarly, and now, indeed, legally,\n     called, forms a sort of tail to Lake Champlain, when viewed\n     on the map. Hence, the name.\n\nWinding its way among countless islands, and imbedded in mountains, the\n\"holy lake\" extended a dozen leagues still further to the south. With\nthe high plain that there interposed itself to the further passage of\nthe water, commenced a portage of as many miles, which conducted the\nadventurer to the banks of the Hudson, at a point where, with the usual\nobstructions of the rapids, or rifts, as they were then termed in the\nlanguage of the country, the river became navigable to the tide.\n\nWhile, in the pursuit of their daring plans of annoyance, the restless\nenterprise of the French even attempted the distant and difficult\ngorges of the Alleghany, it may easily be imagined that their proverbial\nacuteness would not overlook the natural advantages of the district we\nhave just described. It became, emphatically, the bloody arena, in which\nmost of the battles for the mastery of the colonies were contested.\nForts were erected at the different points that commanded the facilities\nof the route, and were taken and retaken, razed and rebuilt, as victory\nalighted on the hostile banners. While the husbandman shrank back from\nthe dangerous passes, within the safer boundaries of the more ancient\nsettlements, armies larger than those that had often disposed of the\nscepters of the mother countries, were seen to bury themselves in these\nforests, whence they rarely returned but in skeleton bands, that were\nhaggard with care or dejected by defeat. Though the arts of peace were\nunknown to this fatal region, its forests were alive with men; its\nshades and glens rang with the sounds of martial music, and the echoes\nof its mountains threw back the laugh, or repeated the wanton cry,\nof many a gallant and reckless youth, as he hurried by them, in the\nnoontide of his spirits, to slumber in a long night of forgetfulness.\n\nIt was in this scene of strife and bloodshed that the incidents we\nshall attempt to relate occurred, during the third year of the war\nwhich England and France last waged for the possession of a country that\nneither was destined to retain.\n\nThe imbecility of her military leaders abroad, and the fatal want of\nenergy in her councils at home, had lowered the character of Great\nBritain from the proud elevation on which it had been placed by the\ntalents and enterprise of her former warriors and statesmen. No longer\ndreaded by her enemies, her servants were fast losing the confidence\nof self-respect. In this mortifying abasement, the colonists, though\ninnocent of her imbecility, and too humble to be the agents of her\nblunders, were but the natural participators. They had recently seen a\nchosen army from that country, which, reverencing as a mother, they\nhad blindly believed invincible--an army led by a chief who had been\nselected from a crowd of trained warriors, for his rare military\nendowments, disgracefully routed by a handful of French and Indians, and\nonly saved from annihilation by the coolness and spirit of a Virginian\nboy, whose riper fame has since diffused itself, with the steady\ninfluence of moral truth, to the uttermost confines of Christendom.* A\nwide frontier had been laid naked by this unexpected disaster, and more\nsubstantial evils were preceded by a thousand fanciful and imaginary\ndangers. The alarmed colonists believed that the yells of the savages\nmingled with every fitful gust of wind that issued from the interminable\nforests of the west. The terrific character of their merciless enemies\nincreased immeasurably the natural horrors of warfare. Numberless recent\nmassacres were still vivid in their recollections; nor was there any\near in the provinces so deaf as not to have drunk in with avidity the\nnarrative of some fearful tale of midnight murder, in which the natives\nof the forests were the principal and barbarous actors. As the credulous\nand excited traveler related the hazardous chances of the wilderness,\nthe blood of the timid curdled with terror, and mothers cast anxious\nglances even at those children which slumbered within the security of\nthe largest towns. In short, the magnifying influence of fear began to\nset at naught the calculations of reason, and to render those who should\nhave remembered their manhood, the slaves of the basest passions. Even\nthe most confident and the stoutest hearts began to think the issue\nof the contest was becoming doubtful; and that abject class was hourly\nincreasing in numbers, who thought they foresaw all the possessions of\nthe English crown in America subdued by their Christian foes, or laid\nwaste by the inroads of their relentless allies.\n\n     * Washington, who, after uselessly admonishing the European\n     general of the danger into which he was heedlessly running,\n     saved the remnants of the British army, on this occasion, by\n     his decision and courage. The reputation earned by\n     Washington in this battle was the principal cause of his\n     being selected to command the American armies at a later\n     day. It is a circumstance worthy of observation, that while\n     all America rang with his well-merited reputation, his name\n     does not occur in any European account of the battle; at\n     least the author has searched for it without success. In\n     this manner does the mother country absorb even the fame,\n     under that system of rule.\n\nWhen, therefore, intelligence was received at the fort which covered the\nsouthern termination of the portage between the Hudson and the lakes,\nthat Montcalm had been seen moving up the Champlain, with an army\n\"numerous as the leaves on the trees,\" its truth was admitted with more\nof the craven reluctance of fear than with the stern joy that a warrior\nshould feel, in finding an enemy within reach of his blow. The news had\nbeen brought, toward the decline of a day in midsummer, by an Indian\nrunner, who also bore an urgent request from Munro, the commander of\na work on the shore of the \"holy lake,\" for a speedy and powerful\nreinforcement. It has already been mentioned that the distance between\nthese two posts was less than five leagues. The rude path, which\noriginally formed their line of communication, had been widened for the\npassage of wagons; so that the distance which had been traveled by the\nson of the forest in two hours, might easily be effected by a detachment\nof troops, with their necessary baggage, between the rising and setting\nof a summer sun. The loyal servants of the British crown had given to\none of these forest-fastnesses the name of William Henry, and to the\nother that of Fort Edward, calling each after a favorite prince of the\nreigning family. The veteran Scotchman just named held the first, with\na regiment of regulars and a few provincials; a force really by far\ntoo small to make head against the formidable power that Montcalm was\nleading to the foot of his earthen mounds. At the latter, however,\nlay General Webb, who commanded the armies of the king in the northern\nprovinces, with a body of more than five thousand men. By uniting the\nseveral detachments of his command, this officer might have arrayed\nnearly double that number of combatants against the enterprising\nFrenchman, who had ventured so far from his reinforcements, with an army\nbut little superior in numbers.\n\nBut under the influence of their degraded fortunes, both officers and\nmen appeared better disposed to await the approach of their formidable\nantagonists, within their works, than to resist the progress of their\nmarch, by emulating the successful example of the French at Fort du\nQuesne, and striking a blow on their advance.\n\nAfter the first surprise of the intelligence had a little abated, a\nrumor was spread through the entrenched camp, which stretched along the\nmargin of the Hudson, forming a chain of outworks to the body of the\nfort itself, that a chosen detachment of fifteen hundred men was to\ndepart, with the dawn, for William Henry, the post at the northern\nextremity of the portage. That which at first was only rumor,\nsoon became certainty, as orders passed from the quarters of the\ncommander-in-chief to the several corps he had selected for this\nservice, to prepare for their speedy departure. All doubts as to the\nintention of Webb now vanished, and an hour or two of hurried footsteps\nand anxious faces succeeded. The novice in the military art flew from\npoint to point, retarding his own preparations by the excess of his\nviolent and somewhat distempered zeal; while the more practiced veteran\nmade his arrangements with a deliberation that scorned every appearance\nof haste; though his sober lineaments and anxious eye sufficiently\nbetrayed that he had no very strong professional relish for the, as yet,\nuntried and dreaded warfare of the wilderness. At length the sun set in\na flood of glory, behind the distant western hills, and as darkness drew\nits veil around the secluded spot the sounds of preparation diminished;\nthe last light finally disappeared from the log cabin of some officer;\nthe trees cast their deeper shadows over the mounds and the rippling\nstream, and a silence soon pervaded the camp, as deep as that which\nreigned in the vast forest by which it was environed.\n\nAccording to the orders of the preceding night, the heavy sleep of the\narmy was broken by the rolling of the warning drums, whose rattling\nechoes were heard issuing, on the damp morning air, out of every vista\nof the woods, just as day began to draw the shaggy outlines of some tall\npines of the vicinity, on the opening brightness of a soft and cloudless\neastern sky. In an instant the whole camp was in motion; the meanest\nsoldier arousing from his lair to witness the departure of his comrades,\nand to share in the excitement and incidents of the hour. The simple\narray of the chosen band was soon completed. While the regular and\ntrained hirelings of the king marched with haughtiness to the right of\nthe line, the less pretending colonists took their humbler position\non its left, with a docility that long practice had rendered easy.\nThe scouts departed; strong guards preceded and followed the lumbering\nvehicles that bore the baggage; and before the gray light of the morning\nwas mellowed by the rays of the sun, the main body of the combatants\nwheeled into column, and left the encampment with a show of high\nmilitary bearing, that served to drown the slumbering apprehensions of\nmany a novice, who was now about to make his first essay in arms. While\nin view of their admiring comrades, the same proud front and ordered\narray was observed, until the notes of their fifes growing fainter in\ndistance, the forest at length appeared to swallow up the living mass\nwhich had slowly entered its bosom.\n\nThe deepest sounds of the retiring and invisible column had ceased to\nbe borne on the breeze to the listeners, and the latest straggler had\nalready disappeared in pursuit; but there still remained the signs\nof another departure, before a log cabin of unusual size and\naccommodations, in front of which those sentinels paced their rounds,\nwho were known to guard the person of the English general. At this spot\nwere gathered some half dozen horses, caparisoned in a manner which\nshowed that two, at least, were destined to bear the persons of females,\nof a rank that it was not usual to meet so far in the wilds of the\ncountry. A third wore trappings and arms of an officer of the staff;\nwhile the rest, from the plainness of the housings, and the traveling\nmails with which they were encumbered, were evidently fitted for the\nreception of as many menials, who were, seemingly, already waiting\nthe pleasure of those they served. At a respectful distance from this\nunusual show, were gathered divers groups of curious idlers; some\nadmiring the blood and bone of the high-mettled military charger,\nand others gazing at the preparations, with the dull wonder of vulgar\ncuriosity. There was one man, however, who, by his countenance and\nactions, formed a marked exception to those who composed the latter\nclass of spectators, being neither idle, nor seemingly very ignorant.\n\nThe person of this individual was to the last degree ungainly, without\nbeing in any particular manner deformed. He had all the bones and joints\nof other men, without any of their proportions. Erect, his stature\nsurpassed that of his fellows; though seated, he appeared reduced within\nthe ordinary limits of the race. The same contrariety in his members\nseemed to exist throughout the whole man. His head was large; his\nshoulders narrow; his arms long and dangling; while his hands were\nsmall, if not delicate. His legs and thighs were thin, nearly to\nemaciation, but of extraordinary length; and his knees would have\nbeen considered tremendous, had they not been outdone by the broader\nfoundations on which this false superstructure of blended human orders\nwas so profanely reared. The ill-assorted and injudicious attire of the\nindividual only served to render his awkwardness more conspicuous. A\nsky-blue coat, with short and broad skirts and low cape, exposed a long,\nthin neck, and longer and thinner legs, to the worst animadversions\nof the evil-disposed. His nether garment was a yellow nankeen, closely\nfitted to the shape, and tied at his bunches of knees by large knots of\nwhite ribbon, a good deal sullied by use. Clouded cotton stockings, and\nshoes, on one of the latter of which was a plated spur, completed the\ncostume of the lower extremity of this figure, no curve or angle of\nwhich was concealed, but, on the other hand, studiously exhibited,\nthrough the vanity or simplicity of its owner.\n\nFrom beneath the flap of an enormous pocket of a soiled vest of embossed\nsilk, heavily ornamented with tarnished silver lace, projected an\ninstrument, which, from being seen in such martial company, might have\nbeen easily mistaken for some mischievous and unknown implement of war.\nSmall as it was, this uncommon engine had excited the curiosity of most\nof the Europeans in the camp, though several of the provincials\nwere seen to handle it, not only without fear, but with the utmost\nfamiliarity. A large, civil cocked hat, like those worn by clergymen\nwithin the last thirty years, surmounted the whole, furnishing dignity\nto a good-natured and somewhat vacant countenance, that apparently\nneeded such artificial aid, to support the gravity of some high and\nextraordinary trust.\n\nWhile the common herd stood aloof, in deference to the quarters of Webb,\nthe figure we have described stalked into the center of the domestics,\nfreely expressing his censures or commendations on the merits of the\nhorses, as by chance they displeased or satisfied his judgment.\n\n\"This beast, I rather conclude, friend, is not of home raising, but is\nfrom foreign lands, or perhaps from the little island itself over the\nblue water?\" he said, in a voice as remarkable for the softness and\nsweetness of its tones, as was his person for its rare proportions; \"I\nmay speak of these things, and be no braggart; for I have been down at\nboth havens; that which is situate at the mouth of Thames, and is named\nafter the capital of Old England, and that which is called 'Haven', with\nthe addition of the word 'New'; and have seen the scows and brigantines\ncollecting their droves, like the gathering to the ark, being outward\nbound to the Island of Jamaica, for the purpose of barter and traffic\nin four-footed animals; but never before have I beheld a beast which\nverified the true scripture war-horse like this: 'He paweth in the\nvalley, and rejoiceth in his strength; he goeth on to meet the armed\nmen. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle\nafar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting' It would seem\nthat the stock of the horse of Israel had descended to our own time;\nwould it not, friend?\"\n\nReceiving no reply to this extraordinary appeal, which in truth, as it\nwas delivered with the vigor of full and sonorous tones, merited some\nsort of notice, he who had thus sung forth the language of the holy\nbook turned to the silent figure to whom he had unwittingly addressed\nhimself, and found a new and more powerful subject of admiration in the\nobject that encountered his gaze. His eyes fell on the still, upright,\nand rigid form of the \"Indian runner,\" who had borne to the camp the\nunwelcome tidings of the preceding evening. Although in a state of\nperfect repose, and apparently disregarding, with characteristic\nstoicism, the excitement and bustle around him, there was a sullen\nfierceness mingled with the quiet of the savage, that was likely to\narrest the attention of much more experienced eyes than those which now\nscanned him, in unconcealed amazement. The native bore both the tomahawk\nand knife of his tribe; and yet his appearance was not altogether that\nof a warrior. On the contrary, there was an air of neglect about his\nperson, like that which might have proceeded from great and recent\nexertion, which he had not yet found leisure to repair. The colors\nof the war-paint had blended in dark confusion about his fierce\ncountenance, and rendered his swarthy lineaments still more savage\nand repulsive than if art had attempted an effect which had been thus\nproduced by chance. His eye, alone, which glistened like a fiery star\namid lowering clouds, was to be seen in its state of native wildness.\nFor a single instant his searching and yet wary glance met the wondering\nlook of the other, and then changing its direction, partly in cunning,\nand partly in disdain, it remained fixed, as if penetrating the distant\nair.\n\nIt is impossible to say what unlooked-for remark this short and silent\ncommunication, between two such singular men, might have elicited from\nthe white man, had not his active curiosity been again drawn to other\nobjects. A general movement among the domestics, and a low sound of\ngentle voices, announced the approach of those whose presence alone\nwas wanted to enable the cavalcade to move. The simple admirer of the\nwar-horse instantly fell back to a low, gaunt, switch-tailed mare, that\nwas unconsciously gleaning the faded herbage of the camp nigh by; where,\nleaning with one elbow on the blanket that concealed an apology for a\nsaddle, he became a spectator of the departure, while a foal was quietly\nmaking its morning repast, on the opposite side of the same animal.\n\nA young man, in the dress of an officer, conducted to their steeds two\nfemales, who, as it was apparent by their dresses, were prepared to\nencounter the fatigues of a journey in the woods. One, and she was\nthe more juvenile in her appearance, though both were young, permitted\nglimpses of her dazzling complexion, fair golden hair, and bright blue\neyes, to be caught, as she artlessly suffered the morning air to blow\naside the green veil which descended low from her beaver.\n\nThe flush which still lingered above the pines in the western sky was\nnot more bright nor delicate than the bloom on her cheek; nor was the\nopening day more cheering than the animated smile which she bestowed on\nthe youth, as he assisted her into the saddle. The other, who appeared\nto share equally in the attention of the young officer, concealed her\ncharms from the gaze of the soldiery with a care that seemed better\nfitted to the experience of four or five additional years. It could be\nseen, however, that her person, though molded with the same exquisite\nproportions, of which none of the graces were lost by the traveling\ndress she wore, was rather fuller and more mature than that of her\ncompanion.\n\nNo sooner were these females seated, than their attendant sprang lightly\ninto the saddle of the war-horse, when the whole three bowed to Webb,\nwho in courtesy, awaited their parting on the threshold of his cabin and\nturning their horses' heads, they proceeded at a slow amble, followed\nby their train, toward the northern entrance of the encampment. As they\ntraversed that short distance, not a voice was heard among them; but\na slight exclamation proceeded from the younger of the females, as the\nIndian runner glided by her, unexpectedly, and led the way along the\nmilitary road in her front. Though this sudden and startling movement\nof the Indian produced no sound from the other, in the surprise her veil\nalso was allowed to open its folds, and betrayed an indescribable look\nof pity, admiration, and horror, as her dark eye followed the easy\nmotions of the savage. The tresses of this lady were shining and black,\nlike the plumage of the raven. Her complexion was not brown, but it\nrather appeared charged with the color of the rich blood, that seemed\nready to burst its bounds. And yet there was neither coarseness nor\nwant of shadowing in a countenance that was exquisitely regular, and\ndignified and surpassingly beautiful. She smiled, as if in pity at her\nown momentary forgetfulness, discovering by the act a row of teeth that\nwould have shamed the purest ivory; when, replacing the veil, she bowed\nher face, and rode in silence, like one whose thoughts were abstracted\nfrom the scene around her.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 2\n\n     \"Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola!\"\n     --Shakespeare\n\nWhile one of the lovely beings we have so cursorily presented to the\nreader was thus lost in thought, the other quickly recovered from the\nalarm which induced the exclamation, and, laughing at her own weakness,\nshe inquired of the youth who rode by her side:\n\n\"Are such specters frequent in the woods, Heyward, or is this sight an\nespecial entertainment ordered on our behalf? If the latter, gratitude\nmust close our mouths; but if the former, both Cora and I shall have\nneed to draw largely on that stock of hereditary courage which we boast,\neven before we are made to encounter the redoubtable Montcalm.\"\n\n\"Yon Indian is a 'runner' of the army; and, after the fashion of his\npeople, he may be accounted a hero,\" returned the officer. \"He has\nvolunteered to guide us to the lake, by a path but little known,\nsooner than if we followed the tardy movements of the column; and, by\nconsequence, more agreeably.\"\n\n\"I like him not,\" said the lady, shuddering, partly in assumed, yet more\nin real terror. \"You know him, Duncan, or you would not trust yourself\nso freely to his keeping?\"\n\n\"Say, rather, Alice, that I would not trust you. I do know him, or he\nwould not have my confidence, and least of all at this moment. He\nis said to be a Canadian too; and yet he served with our friends the\nMohawks, who, as you know, are one of the six allied nations. He was\nbrought among us, as I have heard, by some strange accident in which\nyour father was interested, and in which the savage was rigidly dealt\nby; but I forget the idle tale, it is enough, that he is now our\nfriend.\"\n\n\"If he has been my father's enemy, I like him still less!\" exclaimed the\nnow really anxious girl. \"Will you not speak to him, Major Heyward, that\nI may hear his tones? Foolish though it may be, you have often heard me\navow my faith in the tones of the human voice!\"\n\n\"It would be in vain; and answered, most probably, by an ejaculation.\nThough he may understand it, he affects, like most of his people, to be\nignorant of the English; and least of all will he condescend to speak\nit, now that the war demands the utmost exercise of his dignity. But\nhe stops; the private path by which we are to journey is, doubtless, at\nhand.\"\n\nThe conjecture of Major Heyward was true. When they reached the spot\nwhere the Indian stood, pointing into the thicket that fringed the\nmilitary road; a narrow and blind path, which might, with some little\ninconvenience, receive one person at a time, became visible.\n\n\"Here, then, lies our way,\" said the young man, in a low voice.\n\"Manifest no distrust, or you may invite the danger you appear to\napprehend.\"\n\n\"Cora, what think you?\" asked the reluctant fair one. \"If we journey\nwith the troops, though we may find their presence irksome, shall we not\nfeel better assurance of our safety?\"\n\n\"Being little accustomed to the practices of the savages, Alice, you\nmistake the place of real danger,\" said Heyward. \"If enemies have\nreached the portage at all, a thing by no means probable, as our scouts\nare abroad, they will surely be found skirting the column, where scalps\nabound the most. The route of the detachment is known, while ours,\nhaving been determined within the hour, must still be secret.\"\n\n\"Should we distrust the man because his manners are not our manners, and\nthat his skin is dark?\" coldly asked Cora.\n\nAlice hesitated no longer; but giving her Narrangansett* a smart cut\nof the whip, she was the first to dash aside the slight branches of the\nbushes, and to follow the runner along the dark and tangled pathway.\nThe young man regarded the last speaker in open admiration, and even\npermitted her fairer, though certainly not more beautiful companion, to\nproceed unattended, while he sedulously opened the way himself for\nthe passage of her who has been called Cora. It would seem that the\ndomestics had been previously instructed; for, instead of penetrating\nthe thicket, they followed the route of the column; a measure which\nHeyward stated had been dictated by the sagacity of their guide, in\norder to diminish the marks of their trail, if, haply, the Canadian\nsavages should be lurking so far in advance of their army. For many\nminutes the intricacy of the route admitted of no further dialogue;\nafter which they emerged from the broad border of underbrush which\ngrew along the line of the highway, and entered under the high but dark\narches of the forest. Here their progress was less interrupted; and the\ninstant the guide perceived that the females could command their steeds,\nhe moved on, at a pace between a trot and a walk, and at a rate which\nkept the sure-footed and peculiar animals they rode at a fast yet easy\namble. The youth had turned to speak to the dark-eyed Cora, when the\ndistant sound of horses hoofs, clattering over the roots of the broken\nway in his rear, caused him to check his charger; and, as his companions\ndrew their reins at the same instant, the whole party came to a halt, in\norder to obtain an explanation of the unlooked-for interruption.\n\n     * In the state of Rhode Island there is a bay called\n     Narragansett, so named after a powerful tribe of Indians,\n     which formerly dwelt on its banks. Accident, or one of those\n     unaccountable freaks which nature sometimes plays in the\n     animal world, gave rise to a breed of horses which were once\n     well known in America, and distinguished by their habit of\n     pacing. Horses of this race were, and are still, in much\n     request as saddle horses, on account of their hardiness and\n     the ease of their movements. As they were also sure of foot,\n     the Narragansetts were greatly sought for by females who\n     were obliged to travel over the roots and holes in the \"new\n     countries.\"\n\nIn a few moments a colt was seen gliding, like a fallow deer, among the\nstraight trunks of the pines; and, in another instant, the person of the\nungainly man, described in the preceding chapter, came into view, with\nas much rapidity as he could excite his meager beast to endure without\ncoming to an open rupture. Until now this personage had escaped the\nobservation of the travelers. If he possessed the power to arrest any\nwandering eye when exhibiting the glories of his altitude on foot, his\nequestrian graces were still more likely to attract attention.\n\nNotwithstanding a constant application of his one armed heel to the\nflanks of the mare, the most confirmed gait that he could establish\nwas a Canterbury gallop with the hind legs, in which those more forward\nassisted for doubtful moments, though generally content to maintain a\nloping trot. Perhaps the rapidity of the changes from one of these paces\nto the other created an optical illusion, which might thus magnify the\npowers of the beast; for it is certain that Heyward, who possessed\na true eye for the merits of a horse, was unable, with his utmost\ningenuity, to decide by what sort of movement his pursuer worked his\nsinuous way on his footsteps with such persevering hardihood.\n\nThe industry and movements of the rider were not less remarkable than\nthose of the ridden. At each change in the evolutions of the latter,\nthe former raised his tall person in the stirrups; producing, in this\nmanner, by the undue elongation of his legs, such sudden growths and\ndiminishings of the stature, as baffled every conjecture that might\nbe made as to his dimensions. If to this be added the fact that, in\nconsequence of the ex parte application of the spur, one side of the\nmare appeared to journey faster than the other; and that the aggrieved\nflank was resolutely indicated by unremitted flourishes of a bushy tail,\nwe finish the picture of both horse and man.\n\nThe frown which had gathered around the handsome, open, and manly brow\nof Heyward, gradually relaxed, and his lips curled into a slight smile,\nas he regarded the stranger. Alice made no very powerful effort to\ncontrol her merriment; and even the dark, thoughtful eye of Cora lighted\nwith a humor that it would seem, the habit, rather than the nature, of\nits mistress repressed.\n\n\"Seek you any here?\" demanded Heyward, when the other had arrived\nsufficiently nigh to abate his speed; \"I trust you are no messenger of\nevil tidings?\"\n\n\"Even so,\" replied the stranger, making diligent use of his triangular\ncastor, to produce a circulation in the close air of the woods, and\nleaving his hearers in doubt to which of the young man's questions he\nresponded; when, however, he had cooled his face, and recovered his\nbreath, he continued, \"I hear you are riding to William Henry; as I\nam journeying thitherward myself, I concluded good company would seem\nconsistent to the wishes of both parties.\"\n\n\"You appear to possess the privilege of a casting vote,\" returned\nHeyward; \"we are three, while you have consulted no one but yourself.\"\n\n\"Even so. The first point to be obtained is to know one's own mind. Once\nsure of that, and where women are concerned it is not easy, the next is,\nto act up to the decision. I have endeavored to do both, and here I am.\"\n\n\"If you journey to the lake, you have mistaken your route,\" said\nHeyward, haughtily; \"the highway thither is at least half a mile behind\nyou.\"\n\n\"Even so,\" returned the stranger, nothing daunted by this cold\nreception; \"I have tarried at 'Edward' a week, and I should be dumb not\nto have inquired the road I was to journey; and if dumb there would be\nan end to my calling.\" After simpering in a small way, like one whose\nmodesty prohibited a more open expression of his admiration of\na witticism that was perfectly unintelligible to his hearers, he\ncontinued, \"It is not prudent for any one of my profession to be too\nfamiliar with those he has to instruct; for which reason I follow not\nthe line of the army; besides which, I conclude that a gentleman of\nyour character has the best judgment in matters of wayfaring; I have,\ntherefore, decided to join company, in order that the ride may be made\nagreeable, and partake of social communion.\"\n\n\"A most arbitrary, if not a hasty decision!\" exclaimed Heyward,\nundecided whether to give vent to his growing anger, or to laugh in the\nother's face. \"But you speak of instruction, and of a profession; are\nyou an adjunct to the provincial corps, as a master of the noble science\nof defense and offense; or, perhaps, you are one who draws lines and\nangles, under the pretense of expounding the mathematics?\"\n\nThe stranger regarded his interrogator a moment in wonder; and then,\nlosing every mark of self-satisfaction in an expression of solemn\nhumility, he answered:\n\n\"Of offense, I hope there is none, to either party: of defense, I make\nnone--by God's good mercy, having committed no palpable sin since last\nentreating his pardoning grace. I understand not your allusions about\nlines and angles; and I leave expounding to those who have been called\nand set apart for that holy office. I lay claim to no higher gift than a\nsmall insight into the glorious art of petitioning and thanksgiving, as\npracticed in psalmody.\"\n\n\"The man is, most manifestly, a disciple of Apollo,\" cried the amused\nAlice, \"and I take him under my own especial protection. Nay, throw\naside that frown, Heyward, and in pity to my longing ears, suffer him to\njourney in our train. Besides,\" she added, in a low and hurried voice,\ncasting a glance at the distant Cora, who slowly followed the footsteps\nof their silent, but sullen guide, \"it may be a friend added to our\nstrength, in time of need.\"\n\n\"Think you, Alice, that I would trust those I love by this secret path,\ndid I imagine such need could happen?\"\n\n\"Nay, nay, I think not of it now; but this strange man amuses me; and if\nhe 'hath music in his soul', let us not churlishly reject his company.\"\nShe pointed persuasively along the path with her riding whip, while\ntheir eyes met in a look which the young man lingered a moment to\nprolong; then, yielding to her gentle influence, he clapped his spurs\ninto his charger, and in a few bounds was again at the side of Cora.\n\n\"I am glad to encounter thee, friend,\" continued the maiden, waving her\nhand to the stranger to proceed, as she urged her Narragansett to renew\nits amble. \"Partial relatives have almost persuaded me that I am not\nentirely worthless in a duet myself; and we may enliven our wayfaring\nby indulging in our favorite pursuit. It might be of signal advantage to\none, ignorant as I, to hear the opinions and experience of a master in\nthe art.\"\n\n\"It is refreshing both to the spirits and to the body to indulge\nin psalmody, in befitting seasons,\" returned the master of song,\nunhesitatingly complying with her intimation to follow; \"and nothing\nwould relieve the mind more than such a consoling communion. But four\nparts are altogether necessary to the perfection of melody. You have all\nthe manifestations of a soft and rich treble; I can, by especial aid,\ncarry a full tenor to the highest letter; but we lack counter and bass!\nYon officer of the king, who hesitated to admit me to his company, might\nfill the latter, if one may judge from the intonations of his voice in\ncommon dialogue.\"\n\n\"Judge not too rashly from hasty and deceptive appearances,\" said the\nlady, smiling; \"though Major Heyward can assume such deep notes on\noccasion, believe me, his natural tones are better fitted for a mellow\ntenor than the bass you heard.\"\n\n\"Is he, then, much practiced in the art of psalmody?\" demanded her\nsimple companion.\n\nAlice felt disposed to laugh, though she succeeded in suppressing her\nmerriment, ere she answered:\n\n\"I apprehend that he is rather addicted to profane song. The chances\nof a soldier's life are but little fitted for the encouragement of more\nsober inclinations.\"\n\n\"Man's voice is given to him, like his other talents, to be used, and\nnot to be abused. None can say they have ever known me to neglect my\ngifts! I am thankful that, though my boyhood may be said to have been\nset apart, like the youth of the royal David, for the purposes of music,\nno syllable of rude verse has ever profaned my lips.\"\n\n\"You have, then, limited your efforts to sacred song?\"\n\n\"Even so. As the psalms of David exceed all other language, so does the\npsalmody that has been fitted to them by the divines and sages of the\nland, surpass all vain poetry. Happily, I may say that I utter nothing\nbut the thoughts and the wishes of the King of Israel himself; for\nthough the times may call for some slight changes, yet does this version\nwhich we use in the colonies of New England so much exceed all other\nversions, that, by its richness, its exactness, and its spiritual\nsimplicity, it approacheth, as near as may be, to the great work of the\ninspired writer. I never abide in any place, sleeping or waking, without\nan example of this gifted work. 'Tis the six-and-twentieth edition,\npromulgated at Boston, Anno Domini 1744; and is entitled, 'The Psalms,\nHymns, and Spiritual Songs of the Old and New Testaments; faithfully\ntranslated into English Metre, for the Use, Edification, and Comfort of\nthe Saints, in Public and Private, especially in New England'.\"\n\nDuring this eulogium on the rare production of his native poets, the\nstranger had drawn the book from his pocket, and fitting a pair of\niron-rimmed spectacles to his nose, opened the volume with a care and\nveneration suited to its sacred purposes. Then, without circumlocution\nor apology, first pronounced the word \"Standish,\" and placing the\nunknown engine, already described, to his mouth, from which he drew a\nhigh, shrill sound, that was followed by an octave below, from his own\nvoice, he commenced singing the following words, in full, sweet, and\nmelodious tones, that set the music, the poetry, and even the uneasy\nmotion of his ill-trained beast at defiance; \"How good it is, O see, And\nhow it pleaseth well, Together e'en in unity, For brethren so to dwell.\nIt's like the choice ointment, From the head to the beard did go; Down\nAaron's head, that downward went His garment's skirts unto.\"\n\nThe delivery of these skillful rhymes was accompanied, on the part\nof the stranger, by a regular rise and fall of his right hand, which\nterminated at the descent, by suffering the fingers to dwell a moment on\nthe leaves of the little volume; and on the ascent, by such a flourish\nof the member as none but the initiated may ever hope to imitate.\nIt would seem long practice had rendered this manual accompaniment\nnecessary; for it did not cease until the preposition which the poet had\nselected for the close of his verse had been duly delivered like a word\nof two syllables.\n\nSuch an innovation on the silence and retirement of the forest could not\nfail to enlist the ears of those who journeyed at so short a distance in\nadvance. The Indian muttered a few words in broken English to Heyward,\nwho, in his turn, spoke to the stranger; at once interrupting, and, for\nthe time, closing his musical efforts.\n\n\"Though we are not in danger, common prudence would teach us to journey\nthrough this wilderness in as quiet a manner as possible. You will then,\npardon me, Alice, should I diminish your enjoyments, by requesting this\ngentleman to postpone his chant until a safer opportunity.\"\n\n\"You will diminish them, indeed,\" returned the arch girl; \"for never did\nI hear a more unworthy conjunction of execution and language than that\nto which I have been listening; and I was far gone in a learned inquiry\ninto the causes of such an unfitness between sound and sense, when you\nbroke the charm of my musings by that bass of yours, Duncan!\"\n\n\"I know not what you call my bass,\" said Heyward, piqued at her remark,\n\"but I know that your safety, and that of Cora, is far dearer to me than\ncould be any orchestra of Handel's music.\" He paused and turned his head\nquickly toward a thicket, and then bent his eyes suspiciously on their\nguide, who continued his steady pace, in undisturbed gravity. The young\nman smiled to himself, for he believed he had mistaken some shining\nberry of the woods for the glistening eyeballs of a prowling savage, and\nhe rode forward, continuing the conversation which had been interrupted\nby the passing thought.\n\nMajor Heyward was mistaken only in suffering his youthful and generous\npride to suppress his active watchfulness. The cavalcade had not long\npassed, before the branches of the bushes that formed the thicket were\ncautiously moved asunder, and a human visage, as fiercely wild as savage\nart and unbridled passions could make it, peered out on the retiring\nfootsteps of the travelers. A gleam of exultation shot across the\ndarkly-painted lineaments of the inhabitant of the forest, as he traced\nthe route of his intended victims, who rode unconsciously onward, the\nlight and graceful forms of the females waving among the trees, in the\ncurvatures of their path, followed at each bend by the manly figure of\nHeyward, until, finally, the shapeless person of the singing master\nwas concealed behind the numberless trunks of trees, that rose, in dark\nlines, in the intermediate space.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 3\n\n     \"Before these fields were shorn and till'd,\n     Full to the brim our rivers flow'd;\n     The melody of waters fill'd\n     The fresh and boundless wood;\n     And torrents dash'd, and rivulets play'd,\n     And fountains spouted in the shade.\"--Bryant\n\nLeaving the unsuspecting Heyward and his confiding companions to\npenetrate still deeper into a forest that contained such treacherous\ninmates, we must use an author's privilege, and shift the scene a few\nmiles to the westward of the place where we have last seen them.\n\nOn that day, two men were lingering on the banks of a small but rapid\nstream, within an hour's journey of the encampment of Webb, like those\nwho awaited the appearance of an absent person, or the approach of some\nexpected event. The vast canopy of woods spread itself to the margin of\nthe river, overhanging the water, and shadowing its dark current with a\ndeeper hue. The rays of the sun were beginning to grow less fierce, and\nthe intense heat of the day was lessened, as the cooler vapors of the\nsprings and fountains rose above their leafy beds, and rested in\nthe atmosphere. Still that breathing silence, which marks the drowsy\nsultriness of an American landscape in July, pervaded the secluded spot,\ninterrupted only by the low voices of the men, the occasional and lazy\ntap of a woodpecker, the discordant cry of some gaudy jay, or a swelling\non the ear, from the dull roar of a distant waterfall. These feeble and\nbroken sounds were, however, too familiar to the foresters to draw their\nattention from the more interesting matter of their dialogue. While\none of these loiterers showed the red skin and wild accouterments of a\nnative of the woods, the other exhibited, through the mask of his\nrude and nearly savage equipments, the brighter, though sun-burned and\nlong-faced complexion of one who might claim descent from a European\nparentage. The former was seated on the end of a mossy log, in a posture\nthat permitted him to heighten the effect of his earnest language, by\nthe calm but expressive gestures of an Indian engaged in debate. His\nbody, which was nearly naked, presented a terrific emblem of death,\ndrawn in intermingled colors of white and black. His closely-shaved\nhead, on which no other hair than the well-known and chivalrous\nscalping tuft* was preserved, was without ornament of any kind, with\nthe exception of a solitary eagle's plume, that crossed his crown,\nand depended over the left shoulder. A tomahawk and scalping knife, of\nEnglish manufacture, were in his girdle; while a short military rifle,\nof that sort with which the policy of the whites armed their savage\nallies, lay carelessly across his bare and sinewy knee. The expanded\nchest, full formed limbs, and grave countenance of this warrior, would\ndenote that he had reached the vigor of his days, though no symptoms of\ndecay appeared to have yet weakened his manhood.\n\n     * The North American warrior caused the hair to be plucked\n     from his whole body; a small tuft was left on the crown of\n     his head, in order that his enemy might avail himself of it,\n     in wrenching off the scalp in the event of his fall. The\n     scalp was the only admissible trophy of victory. Thus, it\n     was deemed more important to obtain the scalp than to kill\n     the man. Some tribes lay great stress on the honor of\n     striking a dead body. These practices have nearly\n     disappeared among the Indians of the Atlantic states.\n\nThe frame of the white man, judging by such parts as were not concealed\nby his clothes, was like that of one who had known hardships and\nexertion from his earliest youth. His person, though muscular, was\nrather attenuated than full; but every nerve and muscle appeared strung\nand indurated by unremitted exposure and toil. He wore a hunting shirt\nof forest-green, fringed with faded yellow*, and a summer cap of skins\nwhich had been shorn of their fur. He also bore a knife in a girdle of\nwampum, like that which confined the scanty garments of the Indian, but\nno tomahawk. His moccasins were ornamented after the gay fashion of the\nnatives, while the only part of his under dress which appeared below the\nhunting-frock was a pair of buckskin leggings, that laced at the sides,\nand which were gartered above the knees, with the sinews of a deer. A\npouch and horn completed his personal accouterments, though a rifle of\ngreat length**, which the theory of the more ingenious whites had\ntaught them was the most dangerous of all firearms, leaned against a\nneighboring sapling. The eye of the hunter, or scout, whichever he might\nbe, was small, quick, keen, and restless, roving while he spoke, on\nevery side of him, as if in quest of game, or distrusting the sudden\napproach of some lurking enemy. Notwithstanding the symptoms of habitual\nsuspicion, his countenance was not only without guile, but at the moment\nat which he is introduced, it was charged with an expression of sturdy\nhonesty.\n\n     * The hunting-shirt is a picturesque smock-frock, being\n     shorter, and ornamented with fringes and tassels. The colors\n     are intended to imitate the hues of the wood, with a view to\n     concealment. Many corps of American riflemen have been thus\n     attired, and the dress is one of the most striking of modern\n     times. The hunting-shirt is frequently white.\n\n     ** The rifle of the army is short; that of the hunter is\n     always long.\n\n\"Even your traditions make the case in my favor, Chingachgook,\" he said,\nspeaking in the tongue which was known to all the natives who formerly\ninhabited the country between the Hudson and the Potomac, and of\nwhich we shall give a free translation for the benefit of the reader;\nendeavoring, at the same time, to preserve some of the peculiarities,\nboth of the individual and of the language. \"Your fathers came from the\nsetting sun, crossed the big river*, fought the people of the country,\nand took the land; and mine came from the red sky of the morning, over\nthe salt lake, and did their work much after the fashion that had been\nset them by yours; then let God judge the matter between us, and friends\nspare their words!\"\n\n     * The Mississippi. The scout alludes to a tradition which is\n     very popular among the tribes of the Atlantic states.\n     Evidence of their Asiatic origin is deduced from the\n     circumstances, though great uncertainty hangs over the whole\n     history of the Indians.\n\n\"My fathers fought with the naked red man!\" returned the Indian,\nsternly, in the same language. \"Is there no difference, Hawkeye, between\nthe stone-headed arrow of the warrior, and the leaden bullet with which\nyou kill?\"\n\n\"There is reason in an Indian, though nature has made him with a red\nskin!\" said the white man, shaking his head like one on whom such an\nappeal to his justice was not thrown away. For a moment he appeared to\nbe conscious of having the worst of the argument, then, rallying again,\nhe answered the objection of his antagonist in the best manner his\nlimited information would allow:\n\n\"I am no scholar, and I care not who knows it; but, judging from what\nI have seen, at deer chases and squirrel hunts, of the sparks below,\nI should think a rifle in the hands of their grandfathers was not so\ndangerous as a hickory bow and a good flint-head might be, if drawn with\nIndian judgment, and sent by an Indian eye.\"\n\n\"You have the story told by your fathers,\" returned the other, coldly\nwaving his hand. \"What say your old men? Do they tell the young warriors\nthat the pale faces met the red men, painted for war and armed with the\nstone hatchet and wooden gun?\"\n\n\"I am not a prejudiced man, nor one who vaunts himself on his natural\nprivileges, though the worst enemy I have on earth, and he is an\nIroquois, daren't deny that I am genuine white,\" the scout replied,\nsurveying, with secret satisfaction, the faded color of his bony and\nsinewy hand, \"and I am willing to own that my people have many ways, of\nwhich, as an honest man, I can't approve. It is one of their customs to\nwrite in books what they have done and seen, instead of telling them\nin their villages, where the lie can be given to the face of a cowardly\nboaster, and the brave soldier can call on his comrades to witness for\nthe truth of his words. In consequence of this bad fashion, a man, who\nis too conscientious to misspend his days among the women, in learning\nthe names of black marks, may never hear of the deeds of his fathers,\nnor feel a pride in striving to outdo them. For myself, I conclude the\nBumppos could shoot, for I have a natural turn with a rifle, which\nmust have been handed down from generation to generation, as, our holy\ncommandments tell us, all good and evil gifts are bestowed; though I\nshould be loath to answer for other people in such a matter. But every\nstory has its two sides; so I ask you, Chingachgook, what passed,\naccording to the traditions of the red men, when our fathers first met?\"\n\nA silence of a minute succeeded, during which the Indian sat mute; then,\nfull of the dignity of his office, he commenced his brief tale, with a\nsolemnity that served to heighten its appearance of truth.\n\n\"Listen, Hawkeye, and your ear shall drink no lie. 'Tis what my fathers\nhave said, and what the Mohicans have done.\" He hesitated a single\ninstant, and bending a cautious glance toward his companion, he\ncontinued, in a manner that was divided between interrogation and\nassertion. \"Does not this stream at our feet run toward the summer,\nuntil its waters grow salt, and the current flows upward?\"\n\n\"It can't be denied that your traditions tell you true in both these\nmatters,\" said the white man; \"for I have been there, and have seen\nthem, though why water, which is so sweet in the shade, should become\nbitter in the sun, is an alteration for which I have never been able to\naccount.\"\n\n\"And the current!\" demanded the Indian, who expected his reply with that\nsort of interest that a man feels in the confirmation of testimony, at\nwhich he marvels even while he respects it; \"the fathers of Chingachgook\nhave not lied!\"\n\n\"The holy Bible is not more true, and that is the truest thing in\nnature. They call this up-stream current the tide, which is a thing soon\nexplained, and clear enough. Six hours the waters run in, and six hours\nthey run out, and the reason is this: when there is higher water in the\nsea than in the river, they run in until the river gets to be highest,\nand then it runs out again.\"\n\n\"The waters in the woods, and on the great lakes, run downward\nuntil they lie like my hand,\" said the Indian, stretching the limb\nhorizontally before him, \"and then they run no more.\"\n\n\"No honest man will deny it,\" said the scout, a little nettled at the\nimplied distrust of his explanation of the mystery of the tides; \"and I\ngrant that it is true on the small scale, and where the land is level.\nBut everything depends on what scale you look at things. Now, on the\nsmall scale, the 'arth is level; but on the large scale it is round. In\nthis manner, pools and ponds, and even the great fresh-water lakes, may\nbe stagnant, as you and I both know they are, having seen them; but when\nyou come to spread water over a great tract, like the sea, where the\nearth is round, how in reason can the water be quiet? You might as well\nexpect the river to lie still on the brink of those black rocks a mile\nabove us, though your own ears tell you that it is tumbling over them at\nthis very moment.\"\n\nIf unsatisfied by the philosophy of his companion, the Indian was far\ntoo dignified to betray his unbelief. He listened like one who was\nconvinced, and resumed his narrative in his former solemn manner.\n\n\"We came from the place where the sun is hid at night, over great plains\nwhere the buffaloes live, until we reached the big river. There we\nfought the Alligewi, till the ground was red with their blood. From the\nbanks of the big river to the shores of the salt lake, there was none to\nmeet us. The Maquas followed at a distance. We said the country should\nbe ours from the place where the water runs up no longer on this stream,\nto a river twenty sun's journey toward the summer. We drove the Maquas\ninto the woods with the bears. They only tasted salt at the licks; they\ndrew no fish from the great lake; we threw them the bones.\"\n\n\"All this I have heard and believe,\" said the white man, observing that\nthe Indian paused; \"but it was long before the English came into the\ncountry.\"\n\n\"A pine grew then where this chestnut now stands. The first pale faces\nwho came among us spoke no English. They came in a large canoe, when\nmy fathers had buried the tomahawk with the red men around them. Then,\nHawkeye,\" he continued, betraying his deep emotion, only by permitting\nhis voice to fall to those low, guttural tones, which render his\nlanguage, as spoken at times, so very musical; \"then, Hawkeye, we were\none people, and we were happy. The salt lake gave us its fish, the wood\nits deer, and the air its birds. We took wives who bore us children; we\nworshipped the Great Spirit; and we kept the Maquas beyond the sound of\nour songs of triumph.\"\n\n\"Know you anything of your own family at that time?\" demanded the white.\n\"But you are just a man, for an Indian; and as I suppose you hold their\ngifts, your fathers must have been brave warriors, and wise men at the\ncouncil-fire.\"\n\n\"My tribe is the grandfather of nations, but I am an unmixed man. The\nblood of chiefs is in my veins, where it must stay forever. The Dutch\nlanded, and gave my people the fire-water; they drank until the heavens\nand the earth seemed to meet, and they foolishly thought they had found\nthe Great Spirit. Then they parted with their land. Foot by foot,\nthey were driven back from the shores, until I, that am a chief and a\nSagamore, have never seen the sun shine but through the trees, and have\nnever visited the graves of my fathers.\"\n\n\"Graves bring solemn feelings over the mind,\" returned the scout, a good\ndeal touched at the calm suffering of his companion; \"and they often aid\na man in his good intentions; though, for myself, I expect to leave my\nown bones unburied, to bleach in the woods, or to be torn asunder by the\nwolves. But where are to be found those of your race who came to their\nkin in the Delaware country, so many summers since?\"\n\n\"Where are the blossoms of those summers!--fallen, one by one; so all\nof my family departed, each in his turn, to the land of spirits. I am on\nthe hilltop and must go down into the valley; and when Uncas follows in\nmy footsteps there will no longer be any of the blood of the Sagamores,\nfor my boy is the last of the Mohicans.\"\n\n\"Uncas is here,\" said another voice, in the same soft, guttural tones,\nnear his elbow; \"who speaks to Uncas?\"\n\nThe white man loosened his knife in his leathern sheath, and made\nan involuntary movement of the hand toward his rifle, at this sudden\ninterruption; but the Indian sat composed, and without turning his head\nat the unexpected sounds.\n\nAt the next instant, a youthful warrior passed between them, with a\nnoiseless step, and seated himself on the bank of the rapid stream. No\nexclamation of surprise escaped the father, nor was any question asked,\nor reply given, for several minutes; each appearing to await the moment\nwhen he might speak, without betraying womanish curiosity or childish\nimpatience. The white man seemed to take counsel from their customs,\nand, relinquishing his grasp of the rifle, he also remained silent and\nreserved. At length Chingachgook turned his eyes slowly toward his son,\nand demanded:\n\n\"Do the Maquas dare to leave the print of their moccasins in these\nwoods?\"\n\n\"I have been on their trail,\" replied the young Indian, \"and know that\nthey number as many as the fingers of my two hands; but they lie hid\nlike cowards.\"\n\n\"The thieves are outlying for scalps and plunder,\" said the white man,\nwhom we shall call Hawkeye, after the manner of his companions. \"That\nbusy Frenchman, Montcalm, will send his spies into our very camp, but he\nwill know what road we travel!\"\n\n\"'Tis enough,\" returned the father, glancing his eye toward the setting\nsun; \"they shall be driven like deer from their bushes. Hawkeye, let us\neat to-night, and show the Maquas that we are men to-morrow.\"\n\n\"I am as ready to do the one as the other; but to fight the Iroquois\n'tis necessary to find the skulkers; and to eat, 'tis necessary to get\nthe game--talk of the devil and he will come; there is a pair of the\nbiggest antlers I have seen this season, moving the bushes below the\nhill! Now, Uncas,\" he continued, in a half whisper, and laughing with a\nkind of inward sound, like one who had learned to be watchful, \"I will\nbet my charger three times full of powder, against a foot of wampum,\nthat I take him atwixt the eyes, and nearer to the right than to the\nleft.\"\n\n\"It cannot be!\" said the young Indian, springing to his feet with\nyouthful eagerness; \"all but the tips of his horns are hid!\"\n\n\"He's a boy!\" said the white man, shaking his head while he spoke, and\naddressing the father. \"Does he think when a hunter sees a part of the\ncreature', he can't tell where the rest of him should be!\"\n\nAdjusting his rifle, he was about to make an exhibition of that skill\non which he so much valued himself, when the warrior struck up the piece\nwith his hand, saying:\n\n\"Hawkeye! will you fight the Maquas?\"\n\n\"These Indians know the nature of the woods, as it might be by\ninstinct!\" returned the scout, dropping his rifle, and turning away like\na man who was convinced of his error. \"I must leave the buck to your\narrow, Uncas, or we may kill a deer for them thieves, the Iroquois, to\neat.\"\n\nThe instant the father seconded this intimation by an expressive gesture\nof the hand, Uncas threw himself on the ground, and approached the\nanimal with wary movements. When within a few yards of the cover, he\nfitted an arrow to his bow with the utmost care, while the antlers\nmoved, as if their owner snuffed an enemy in the tainted air. In another\nmoment the twang of the cord was heard, a white streak was seen glancing\ninto the bushes, and the wounded buck plunged from the cover, to the\nvery feet of his hidden enemy. Avoiding the horns of the infuriated\nanimal, Uncas darted to his side, and passed his knife across the\nthroat, when bounding to the edge of the river it fell, dyeing the\nwaters with its blood.\n\n\"'Twas done with Indian skill,\" said the scout laughing inwardly, but\nwith vast satisfaction; \"and 'twas a pretty sight to behold! Though an\narrow is a near shot, and needs a knife to finish the work.\"\n\n\"Hugh!\" ejaculated his companion, turning quickly, like a hound who\nscented game.\n\n\"By the Lord, there is a drove of them!\" exclaimed the scout, whose eyes\nbegan to glisten with the ardor of his usual occupation; \"if they come\nwithin range of a bullet I will drop one, though the whole Six Nations\nshould be lurking within sound! What do you hear, Chingachgook? for to\nmy ears the woods are dumb.\"\n\n\"There is but one deer, and he is dead,\" said the Indian, bending his\nbody till his ear nearly touched the earth. \"I hear the sounds of feet!\"\n\n\"Perhaps the wolves have driven the buck to shelter, and are following\non his trail.\"\n\n\"No. The horses of white men are coming!\" returned the other, raising\nhimself with dignity, and resuming his seat on the log with his former\ncomposure. \"Hawkeye, they are your brothers; speak to them.\"\n\n\"That I will, and in English that the king needn't be ashamed to\nanswer,\" returned the hunter, speaking in the language of which he\nboasted; \"but I see nothing, nor do I hear the sounds of man or beast;\n'tis strange that an Indian should understand white sounds better than a\nman who, his very enemies will own, has no cross in his blood, although\nhe may have lived with the red skins long enough to be suspected! Ha!\nthere goes something like the cracking of a dry stick, too--now I hear\nthe bushes move--yes, yes, there is a trampling that I mistook for\nthe falls--and--but here they come themselves; God keep them from the\nIroquois!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 4\n\n     \"Well go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove\n     Till I torment thee for this injury.\"--Midsummer Night's Dream.\n\nThe words were still in the mouth of the scout, when the leader of the\nparty, whose approaching footsteps had caught the vigilant ear of the\nIndian, came openly into view. A beaten path, such as those made by the\nperiodical passage of the deer, wound through a little glen at no great\ndistance, and struck the river at the point where the white man and his\nred companions had posted themselves. Along this track the travelers,\nwho had produced a surprise so unusual in the depths of the forest,\nadvanced slowly toward the hunter, who was in front of his associates,\nin readiness to receive them.\n\n\"Who comes?\" demanded the scout, throwing his rifle carelessly across\nhis left arm, and keeping the forefinger of his right hand on the\ntrigger, though he avoided all appearance of menace in the act. \"Who\ncomes hither, among the beasts and dangers of the wilderness?\"\n\n\"Believers in religion, and friends to the law and to the king,\"\nreturned he who rode foremost. \"Men who have journeyed since the rising\nsun, in the shades of this forest, without nourishment, and are sadly\ntired of their wayfaring.\"\n\n\"You are, then, lost,\" interrupted the hunter, \"and have found how\nhelpless 'tis not to know whether to take the right hand or the left?\"\n\n\"Even so; sucking babes are not more dependent on those who guide them\nthan we who are of larger growth, and who may now be said to possess the\nstature without the knowledge of men. Know you the distance to a post of\nthe crown called William Henry?\"\n\n\"Hoot!\" shouted the scout, who did not spare his open laughter, though\ninstantly checking the dangerous sounds he indulged his merriment at\nless risk of being overheard by any lurking enemies. \"You are as much\noff the scent as a hound would be, with Horican atwixt him and the deer!\nWilliam Henry, man! if you are friends to the king and have business\nwith the army, your way would be to follow the river down to Edward, and\nlay the matter before Webb, who tarries there, instead of pushing into\nthe defiles, and driving this saucy Frenchman back across Champlain,\ninto his den again.\"\n\nBefore the stranger could make any reply to this unexpected proposition,\nanother horseman dashed the bushes aside, and leaped his charger into\nthe pathway, in front of his companion.\n\n\"What, then, may be our distance from Fort Edward?\" demanded a new\nspeaker; \"the place you advise us to seek we left this morning, and our\ndestination is the head of the lake.\"\n\n\"Then you must have lost your eyesight afore losing your way, for the\nroad across the portage is cut to a good two rods, and is as grand a\npath, I calculate, as any that runs into London, or even before the\npalace of the king himself.\"\n\n\"We will not dispute concerning the excellence of the passage,\" returned\nHeyward, smiling; for, as the reader has anticipated, it was he. \"It is\nenough, for the present, that we trusted to an Indian guide to take\nus by a nearer, though blinder path, and that we are deceived in his\nknowledge. In plain words, we know not where we are.\"\n\n\"An Indian lost in the woods!\" said the scout, shaking his head\ndoubtingly; \"When the sun is scorching the tree tops, and the water\ncourses are full; when the moss on every beech he sees will tell him in\nwhat quarter the north star will shine at night. The woods are full\nof deer-paths which run to the streams and licks, places well known to\neverybody; nor have the geese done their flight to the Canada waters\naltogether! 'Tis strange that an Indian should be lost atwixt Horican\nand the bend in the river! Is he a Mohawk?\"\n\n\"Not by birth, though adopted in that tribe; I think his birthplace was\nfarther north, and he is one of those you call a Huron.\"\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed the two companions of the scout, who had continued\nuntil this part of the dialogue, seated immovable, and apparently\nindifferent to what passed, but who now sprang to their feet with an\nactivity and interest that had evidently got the better of their reserve\nby surprise.\n\n\"A Huron!\" repeated the sturdy scout, once more shaking his head in\nopen distrust; \"they are a thievish race, nor do I care by whom they are\nadopted; you can never make anything of them but skulks and vagabonds.\nSince you trusted yourself to the care of one of that nation, I only\nwonder that you have not fallen in with more.\"\n\n\"Of that there is little danger, since William Henry is so many miles\nin our front. You forget that I have told you our guide is now a Mohawk,\nand that he serves with our forces as a friend.\"\n\n\"And I tell you that he who is born a Mingo will die a Mingo,\" returned\nthe other positively. \"A Mohawk! No, give me a Delaware or a Mohican\nfor honesty; and when they will fight, which they won't all do, having\nsuffered their cunning enemies, the Maquas, to make them women--but\nwhen they will fight at all, look to a Delaware, or a Mohican, for a\nwarrior!\"\n\n\"Enough of this,\" said Heyward, impatiently; \"I wish not to inquire into\nthe character of a man that I know, and to whom you must be a stranger.\nYou have not yet answered my question; what is our distance from the\nmain army at Edward?\"\n\n\"It seems that may depend on who is your guide. One would think such\na horse as that might get over a good deal of ground atwixt sun-up and\nsun-down.\"\n\n\"I wish no contention of idle words with you, friend,\" said Heyward,\ncurbing his dissatisfied manner, and speaking in a more gentle voice;\n\"if you will tell me the distance to Fort Edward, and conduct me\nthither, your labor shall not go without its reward.\"\n\n\"And in so doing, how know I that I don't guide an enemy and a spy of\nMontcalm, to the works of the army? It is not every man who can speak\nthe English tongue that is an honest subject.\"\n\n\"If you serve with the troops, of whom I judge you to be a scout, you\nshould know of such a regiment of the king as the Sixtieth.\"\n\n\"The Sixtieth! you can tell me little of the Royal Americans that\nI don't know, though I do wear a hunting-shirt instead of a scarlet\njacket.\"\n\n\"Well, then, among other things, you may know the name of its major?\"\n\n\"Its major!\" interrupted the hunter, elevating his body like one who was\nproud of his trust. \"If there is a man in the country who knows Major\nEffingham, he stands before you.\"\n\n\"It is a corps which has many majors; the gentleman you name is the\nsenior, but I speak of the junior of them all; he who commands the\ncompanies in garrison at William Henry.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I have heard that a young gentleman of vast riches, from one\nof the provinces far south, has got the place. He is over young, too,\nto hold such rank, and to be put above men whose heads are beginning to\nbleach; and yet they say he is a soldier in his knowledge, and a gallant\ngentleman!\"\n\n\"Whatever he may be, or however he may be qualified for his rank, he now\nspeaks to you and, of course, can be no enemy to dread.\"\n\nThe scout regarded Heyward in surprise, and then lifting his cap, he\nanswered, in a tone less confident than before--though still expressing\ndoubt.\n\n\"I have heard a party was to leave the encampment this morning for the\nlake shore?\"\n\n\"You have heard the truth; but I preferred a nearer route, trusting to\nthe knowledge of the Indian I mentioned.\"\n\n\"And he deceived you, and then deserted?\"\n\n\"Neither, as I believe; certainly not the latter, for he is to be found\nin the rear.\"\n\n\"I should like to look at the creature; if it is a true Iroquois I\ncan tell him by his knavish look, and by his paint,\" said the scout;\nstepping past the charger of Heyward, and entering the path behind the\nmare of the singing master, whose foal had taken advantage of the halt\nto exact the maternal contribution. After shoving aside the bushes,\nand proceeding a few paces, he encountered the females, who awaited\nthe result of the conference with anxiety, and not entirely without\napprehension. Behind these, the runner leaned against a tree, where he\nstood the close examination of the scout with an air unmoved, though\nwith a look so dark and savage, that it might in itself excite fear.\nSatisfied with his scrutiny, the hunter soon left him. As he repassed\nthe females, he paused a moment to gaze upon their beauty, answering to\nthe smile and nod of Alice with a look of open pleasure. Thence he went\nto the side of the motherly animal, and spending a minute in a fruitless\ninquiry into the character of her rider, he shook his head and returned\nto Heyward.\n\n\"A Mingo is a Mingo, and God having made him so, neither the Mohawks nor\nany other tribe can alter him,\" he said, when he had regained his former\nposition. \"If we were alone, and you would leave that noble horse at the\nmercy of the wolves to-night, I could show you the way to Edward myself,\nwithin an hour, for it lies only about an hour's journey hence; but with\nsuch ladies in your company 'tis impossible!\"\n\n\"And why? They are fatigued, but they are quite equal to a ride of a few\nmore miles.\"\n\n\"'Tis a natural impossibility!\" repeated the scout; \"I wouldn't walk\na mile in these woods after night gets into them, in company with that\nrunner, for the best rifle in the colonies. They are full of outlying\nIroquois, and your mongrel Mohawk knows where to find them too well to\nbe my companion.\"\n\n\"Think you so?\" said Heyward, leaning forward in the saddle, and\ndropping his voice nearly to a whisper; \"I confess I have not been\nwithout my own suspicions, though I have endeavored to conceal them,\nand affected a confidence I have not always felt, on account of my\ncompanions. It was because I suspected him that I would follow no\nlonger; making him, as you see, follow me.\"\n\n\"I knew he was one of the cheats as soon as I laid eyes on him!\"\nreturned the scout, placing a finger on his nose, in sign of caution.\n\n\"The thief is leaning against the foot of the sugar sapling, that you\ncan see over them bushes; his right leg is in a line with the bark of\nthe tree, and,\" tapping his rifle, \"I can take him from where I stand,\nbetween the angle and the knee, with a single shot, putting an end\nto his tramping through the woods, for at least a month to come. If I\nshould go back to him, the cunning varmint would suspect something, and\nbe dodging through the trees like a frightened deer.\"\n\n\"It will not do. He may be innocent, and I dislike the act. Though, if I\nfelt confident of his treachery--\"\n\n\"'Tis a safe thing to calculate on the knavery of an Iroquois,\" said the\nscout, throwing his rifle forward, by a sort of instinctive movement.\n\n\"Hold!\" interrupted Heyward, \"it will not do--we must think of some\nother scheme--and yet, I have much reason to believe the rascal has\ndeceived me.\"\n\nThe hunter, who had already abandoned his intention of maiming the\nrunner, mused a moment, and then made a gesture, which instantly brought\nhis two red companions to his side. They spoke together earnestly in the\nDelaware language, though in an undertone; and by the gestures of\nthe white man, which were frequently directed towards the top of the\nsapling, it was evident he pointed out the situation of their hidden\nenemy. His companions were not long in comprehending his wishes, and\nlaying aside their firearms, they parted, taking opposite sides of\nthe path, and burying themselves in the thicket, with such cautious\nmovements, that their steps were inaudible.\n\n\"Now, go you back,\" said the hunter, speaking again to Heyward, \"and\nhold the imp in talk; these Mohicans here will take him without breaking\nhis paint.\"\n\n\"Nay,\" said Heyward, proudly, \"I will seize him myself.\"\n\n\"Hist! what could you do, mounted, against an Indian in the bushes!\"\n\n\"I will dismount.\"\n\n\"And, think you, when he saw one of your feet out of the stirrup, he\nwould wait for the other to be free? Whoever comes into the woods to\ndeal with the natives, must use Indian fashions, if he would wish to\nprosper in his undertakings. Go, then; talk openly to the miscreant, and\nseem to believe him the truest friend you have on 'arth.\"\n\nHeyward prepared to comply, though with strong disgust at the nature of\nthe office he was compelled to execute. Each moment, however, pressed\nupon him a conviction of the critical situation in which he had suffered\nhis invaluable trust to be involved through his own confidence. The sun\nhad already disappeared, and the woods, suddenly deprived of his light*,\nwere assuming a dusky hue, which keenly reminded him that the hour the\nsavage usually chose for his most barbarous and remorseless acts\nof vengeance or hostility, was speedily drawing near. Stimulated by\napprehension, he left the scout, who immediately entered into a loud\nconversation with the stranger that had so unceremoniously enlisted\nhimself in the party of travelers that morning. In passing his gentler\ncompanions Heyward uttered a few words of encouragement, and was\npleased to find that, though fatigued with the exercise of the day, they\nappeared to entertain no suspicion that their present embarrassment was\nother than the result of accident. Giving them reason to believe he\nwas merely employed in a consultation concerning the future route,\nhe spurred his charger, and drew the reins again when the animal had\ncarried him within a few yards of the place where the sullen runner\nstill stood, leaning against the tree.\n\n     * The scene of this tale was in the 42d degree of latitude,\n     where the twilight is never of long continuation.\n\n\"You may see, Magua,\" he said, endeavoring to assume an air of freedom\nand confidence, \"that the night is closing around us, and yet we are no\nnearer to William Henry than when we left the encampment of Webb with\nthe rising sun.\n\n\"You have missed the way, nor have I been more fortunate. But, happily,\nwe have fallen in with a hunter, he whom you hear talking to the singer,\nthat is acquainted with the deerpaths and by-ways of the woods, and\nwho promises to lead us to a place where we may rest securely till the\nmorning.\"\n\nThe Indian riveted his glowing eyes on Heyward as he asked, in his\nimperfect English, \"Is he alone?\"\n\n\"Alone!\" hesitatingly answered Heyward, to whom deception was too new to\nbe assumed without embarrassment. \"Oh! not alone, surely, Magua, for you\nknow that we are with him.\"\n\n\"Then Le Renard Subtil will go,\" returned the runner, coolly raising\nhis little wallet from the place where it had lain at his feet; \"and the\npale faces will see none but their own color.\"\n\n\"Go! Whom call you Le Renard?\"\n\n\"'Tis the name his Canada fathers have given to Magua,\" returned the\nrunner, with an air that manifested his pride at the distinction. \"Night\nis the same as day to Le Subtil, when Munro waits for him.\"\n\n\"And what account will Le Renard give the chief of William Henry\nconcerning his daughters? Will he dare to tell the hot-blooded Scotsman\nthat his children are left without a guide, though Magua promised to be\none?\"\n\n\"Though the gray head has a loud voice, and a long arm, Le Renard will\nnot hear him, nor feel him, in the woods.\"\n\n\"But what will the Mohawks say? They will make him petticoats, and bid\nhim stay in the wigwam with the women, for he is no longer to be trusted\nwith the business of a man.\"\n\n\"Le Subtil knows the path to the great lakes, and he can find the bones\nof his fathers,\" was the answer of the unmoved runner.\n\n\"Enough, Magua,\" said Heyward; \"are we not friends? Why should there be\nbitter words between us? Munro has promised you a gift for your services\nwhen performed, and I shall be your debtor for another. Rest your weary\nlimbs, then, and open your wallet to eat. We have a few moments to\nspare; let us not waste them in talk like wrangling women. When the\nladies are refreshed we will proceed.\"\n\n\"The pale faces make themselves dogs to their women,\" muttered the\nIndian, in his native language, \"and when they want to eat, their\nwarriors must lay aside the tomahawk to feed their laziness.\"\n\n\"What say you, Renard?\"\n\n\"Le Subtil says it is good.\"\n\nThe Indian then fastened his eyes keenly on the open countenance of\nHeyward, but meeting his glance, he turned them quickly away, and\nseating himself deliberately on the ground, he drew forth the remnant of\nsome former repast, and began to eat, though not without first bending\nhis looks slowly and cautiously around him.\n\n\"This is well,\" continued Heyward; \"and Le Renard will have strength and\nsight to find the path in the morning\"; he paused, for sounds like the\nsnapping of a dried stick, and the rustling of leaves, rose from the\nadjacent bushes, but recollecting himself instantly, he continued, \"we\nmust be moving before the sun is seen, or Montcalm may lie in our path,\nand shut us out from the fortress.\"\n\nThe hand of Magua dropped from his mouth to his side, and though\nhis eyes were fastened on the ground, his head was turned aside, his\nnostrils expanded, and his ears seemed even to stand more erect than\nusual, giving to him the appearance of a statue that was made to\nrepresent intense attention.\n\nHeyward, who watched his movements with a vigilant eye, carelessly\nextricated one of his feet from the stirrup, while he passed a hand\ntoward the bear-skin covering of his holsters.\n\nEvery effort to detect the point most regarded by the runner was\ncompletely frustrated by the tremulous glances of his organs, which\nseemed not to rest a single instant on any particular object, and which,\nat the same time, could be hardly said to move. While he hesitated how\nto proceed, Le Subtil cautiously raised himself to his feet, though with\na motion so slow and guarded, that not the slightest noise was produced\nby the change. Heyward felt it had now become incumbent on him to act.\nThrowing his leg over the saddle, he dismounted, with a determination to\nadvance and seize his treacherous companion, trusting the result to his\nown manhood. In order, however, to prevent unnecessary alarm, he still\npreserved an air of calmness and friendship.\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil does not eat,\" he said, using the appellation he had\nfound most flattering to the vanity of the Indian. \"His corn is not\nwell parched, and it seems dry. Let me examine; perhaps something may be\nfound among my own provisions that will help his appetite.\"\n\nMagua held out the wallet to the proffer of the other. He even suffered\ntheir hands to meet, without betraying the least emotion, or varying his\nriveted attitude of attention. But when he felt the fingers of Heyward\nmoving gently along his own naked arm, he struck up the limb of the\nyoung man, and, uttering a piercing cry, he darted beneath it, and\nplunged, at a single bound, into the opposite thicket. At the next\ninstant the form of Chingachgook appeared from the bushes, looking like\na specter in its paint, and glided across the path in swift pursuit.\nNext followed the shout of Uncas, when the woods were lighted by a\nsudden flash, that was accompanied by the sharp report of the hunter's\nrifle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 5\n\n                 ...\"In such a night\n     Did This be fearfully o'ertrip the dew;\n     And saw the lion's shadow ere himself.\"--Merchant of Venice\n\nThe suddenness of the flight of his guide, and the wild cries of the\npursuers, caused Heyward to remain fixed, for a few moments, in inactive\nsurprise. Then recollecting the importance of securing the fugitive, he\ndashed aside the surrounding bushes, and pressed eagerly forward to lend\nhis aid in the chase. Before he had, however, proceeded a hundred yards,\nhe met the three foresters already returning from their unsuccessful\npursuit.\n\n\"Why so soon disheartened!\" he exclaimed; \"the scoundrel must be\nconcealed behind some of these trees, and may yet be secured. We are not\nsafe while he goes at large.\"\n\n\"Would you set a cloud to chase the wind?\" returned the disappointed\nscout; \"I heard the imp brushing over the dry leaves, like a black\nsnake, and blinking a glimpse of him, just over ag'in yon big pine, I\npulled as it might be on the scent; but 'twouldn't do! and yet for a\nreasoning aim, if anybody but myself had touched the trigger, I should\ncall it a quick sight; and I may be accounted to have experience in\nthese matters, and one who ought to know. Look at this sumach; its\nleaves are red, though everybody knows the fruit is in the yellow\nblossom in the month of July!\"\n\n\"'Tis the blood of Le Subtil! he is hurt, and may yet fall!\"\n\n\"No, no,\" returned the scout, in decided disapprobation of this opinion,\n\"I rubbed the bark off a limb, perhaps, but the creature leaped the\nlonger for it. A rifle bullet acts on a running animal, when it barks\nhim, much the same as one of your spurs on a horse; that is, it quickens\nmotion, and puts life into the flesh, instead of taking it away. But\nwhen it cuts the ragged hole, after a bound or two, there is, commonly,\na stagnation of further leaping, be it Indian or be it deer!\"\n\n\"We are four able bodies, to one wounded man!\"\n\n\"Is life grievous to you?\" interrupted the scout. \"Yonder red devil\nwould draw you within swing of the tomahawks of his comrades, before you\nwere heated in the chase. It was an unthoughtful act in a man who has so\noften slept with the war-whoop ringing in the air, to let off his piece\nwithin sound of an ambushment! But then it was a natural temptation!\n'twas very natural! Come, friends, let us move our station, and in such\nfashion, too, as will throw the cunning of a Mingo on a wrong scent, or\nour scalps will be drying in the wind in front of Montcalm's marquee,\nag'in this hour to-morrow.\"\n\nThis appalling declaration, which the scout uttered with the cool\nassurance of a man who fully comprehended, while he did not fear to face\nthe danger, served to remind Heyward of the importance of the charge\nwith which he himself had been intrusted. Glancing his eyes around, with\na vain effort to pierce the gloom that was thickening beneath the\nleafy arches of the forest, he felt as if, cut off from human aid,\nhis unresisting companions would soon lie at the entire mercy of those\nbarbarous enemies, who, like beasts of prey, only waited till the\ngathering darkness might render their blows more fatally certain. His\nawakened imagination, deluded by the deceptive light, converted each\nwaving bush, or the fragment of some fallen tree, into human forms, and\ntwenty times he fancied he could distinguish the horrid visages of\nhis lurking foes, peering from their hiding places, in never ceasing\nwatchfulness of the movements of his party. Looking upward, he found\nthat the thin fleecy clouds, which evening had painted on the blue\nsky, were already losing their faintest tints of rose-color, while the\nimbedded stream, which glided past the spot where he stood, was to be\ntraced only by the dark boundary of its wooded banks.\n\n\"What is to be done!\" he said, feeling the utter helplessness of doubt\nin such a pressing strait; \"desert me not, for God's sake! remain to\ndefend those I escort, and freely name your own reward!\"\n\nHis companions, who conversed apart in the language of their tribe,\nheeded not this sudden and earnest appeal. Though their dialogue was\nmaintained in low and cautious sounds, but little above a whisper,\nHeyward, who now approached, could easily distinguish the earnest tones\nof the younger warrior from the more deliberate speeches of his seniors.\nIt was evident that they debated on the propriety of some measure, that\nnearly concerned the welfare of the travelers. Yielding to his powerful\ninterest in the subject, and impatient of a delay that seemed fraught\nwith so much additional danger, Heyward drew still nigher to the dusky\ngroup, with an intention of making his offers of compensation more\ndefinite, when the white man, motioning with his hand, as if he conceded\nthe disputed point, turned away, saying in a sort of soliloquy, and in\nthe English tongue:\n\n\"Uncas is right! it would not be the act of men to leave such harmless\nthings to their fate, even though it breaks up the harboring place\nforever. If you would save these tender blossoms from the fangs of\nthe worst of serpents, gentleman, you have neither time to lose nor\nresolution to throw away!\"\n\n\"How can such a wish be doubted! Have I not already offered--\"\n\n\"Offer your prayers to Him who can give us wisdom to circumvent the\ncunning of the devils who fill these woods,\" calmly interrupted the\nscout, \"but spare your offers of money, which neither you may live to\nrealize, nor I to profit by. These Mohicans and I will do what man's\nthoughts can invent, to keep such flowers, which, though so sweet, were\nnever made for the wilderness, from harm, and that without hope of\nany other recompense but such as God always gives to upright dealings.\nFirst, you must promise two things, both in your own name and for your\nfriends, or without serving you we shall only injure ourselves!\"\n\n\"Name them.\"\n\n\"The one is, to be still as these sleeping woods, let what will happen\nand the other is, to keep the place where we shall take you, forever a\nsecret from all mortal men.\"\n\n\"I will do my utmost to see both these conditions fulfilled.\"\n\n\"Then follow, for we are losing moments that are as precious as the\nheart's blood to a stricken deer!\"\n\nHeyward could distinguish the impatient gesture of the scout, through\nthe increasing shadows of the evening, and he moved in his footsteps,\nswiftly, toward the place where he had left the remainder of the\nparty. When they rejoined the expecting and anxious females, he briefly\nacquainted them with the conditions of their new guide, and with the\nnecessity that existed for their hushing every apprehension in instant\nand serious exertions. Although his alarming communication was not\nreceived without much secret terror by the listeners, his earnest and\nimpressive manner, aided perhaps by the nature of the danger, succeeded\nin bracing their nerves to undergo some unlooked-for and unusual trial.\nSilently, and without a moment's delay, they permitted him to assist\nthem from their saddles, and when they descended quickly to the water's\nedge, where the scout had collected the rest of the party, more by the\nagency of expressive gestures than by any use of words.\n\n\"What to do with these dumb creatures!\" muttered the white man, on whom\nthe sole control of their future movements appeared to devolve; \"it\nwould be time lost to cut their throats, and cast them into the river;\nand to leave them here would be to tell the Mingoes that they have not\nfar to seek to find their owners!\"\n\n\"Then give them their bridles, and let them range the woods,\" Heyward\nventured to suggest.\n\n\"No; it would be better to mislead the imps, and make them believe they\nmust equal a horse's speed to run down their chase. Ay, ay, that will\nblind their fireballs of eyes! Chingach--Hist! what stirs the bush?\"\n\n\"The colt.\"\n\n\"That colt, at least, must die,\" muttered the scout, grasping at the\nmane of the nimble beast, which easily eluded his hand; \"Uncas, your\narrows!\"\n\n\"Hold!\" exclaimed the proprietor of the condemned animal, aloud, without\nregard to the whispering tones used by the others; \"spare the foal\nof Miriam! it is the comely offspring of a faithful dam, and would\nwillingly injure naught.\"\n\n\"When men struggle for the single life God has given them,\" said the\nscout, sternly, \"even their own kind seem no more than the beasts of the\nwood. If you speak again, I shall leave you to the mercy of the Maquas!\nDraw to your arrow's head, Uncas; we have no time for second blows.\"\n\nThe low, muttering sounds of his threatening voice were still audible,\nwhen the wounded foal, first rearing on its hinder legs, plunged forward\nto its knees. It was met by Chingachgook, whose knife passed across its\nthroat quicker than thought, and then precipitating the motions of the\nstruggling victim, he dashed into the river, down whose stream it glided\naway, gasping audibly for breath with its ebbing life. This deed of\napparent cruelty, but of real necessity, fell upon the spirits of the\ntravelers like a terrific warning of the peril in which they stood,\nheightened as it was by the calm though steady resolution of the actors\nin the scene. The sisters shuddered and clung closer to each other,\nwhile Heyward instinctively laid his hand on one of the pistols he had\njust drawn from their holsters, as he placed himself between his charge\nand those dense shadows that seemed to draw an impenetrable veil before\nthe bosom of the forest.\n\nThe Indians, however, hesitated not a moment, but taking the bridles,\nthey led the frightened and reluctant horses into the bed of the river.\n\nAt a short distance from the shore they turned, and were soon concealed\nby the projection of the bank, under the brow of which they moved, in\na direction opposite to the course of the waters. In the meantime, the\nscout drew a canoe of bark from its place of concealment beneath some\nlow bushes, whose branches were waving with the eddies of the current,\ninto which he silently motioned for the females to enter. They complied\nwithout hesitation, though many a fearful and anxious glance was thrown\nbehind them, toward the thickening gloom, which now lay like a dark\nbarrier along the margin of the stream.\n\nSo soon as Cora and Alice were seated, the scout, without regarding the\nelement, directed Heyward to support one side of the frail vessel,\nand posting himself at the other, they bore it up against the stream,\nfollowed by the dejected owner of the dead foal. In this manner they\nproceeded, for many rods, in a silence that was only interrupted by the\nrippling of the water, as its eddies played around them, or the low dash\nmade by their own cautious footsteps. Heyward yielded the guidance of\nthe canoe implicitly to the scout, who approached or receded from the\nshore, to avoid the fragments of rocks, or deeper parts of the river,\nwith a readiness that showed his knowledge of the route they held.\nOccasionally he would stop; and in the midst of a breathing stillness,\nthat the dull but increasing roar of the waterfall only served to render\nmore impressive, he would listen with painful intenseness, to catch any\nsounds that might arise from the slumbering forest. When assured that\nall was still, and unable to detect, even by the aid of his practiced\nsenses, any sign of his approaching foes, he would deliberately resume\nhis slow and guarded progress. At length they reached a point in the\nriver where the roving eye of Heyward became riveted on a cluster of\nblack objects, collected at a spot where the high bank threw a deeper\nshadow than usual on the dark waters. Hesitating to advance, he pointed\nout the place to the attention of his companion.\n\n\"Ay,\" returned the composed scout, \"the Indians have hid the beasts with\nthe judgment of natives! Water leaves no trail, and an owl's eyes would\nbe blinded by the darkness of such a hole.\"\n\nThe whole party was soon reunited, and another consultation was held\nbetween the scout and his new comrades, during which, they, whose fates\ndepended on the faith and ingenuity of these unknown foresters, had a\nlittle leisure to observe their situation more minutely.\n\nThe river was confined between high and cragged rocks, one of which\nimpended above the spot where the canoe rested. As these, again, were\nsurmounted by tall trees, which appeared to totter on the brows of the\nprecipice, it gave the stream the appearance of running through a deep\nand narrow dell. All beneath the fantastic limbs and ragged tree tops,\nwhich were, here and there, dimly painted against the starry zenith,\nlay alike in shadowed obscurity. Behind them, the curvature of the banks\nsoon bounded the view by the same dark and wooded outline; but in front,\nand apparently at no great distance, the water seemed piled against\nthe heavens, whence it tumbled into caverns, out of which issued those\nsullen sounds that had loaded the evening atmosphere. It seemed, in\ntruth, to be a spot devoted to seclusion, and the sisters imbibed a\nsoothing impression of security, as they gazed upon its romantic though\nnot unappalling beauties. A general movement among their conductors,\nhowever, soon recalled them from a contemplation of the wild charms that\nnight had assisted to lend the place to a painful sense of their real\nperil.\n\nThe horses had been secured to some scattering shrubs that grew in the\nfissures of the rocks, where, standing in the water, they were left to\npass the night. The scout directed Heyward and his disconsolate fellow\ntravelers to seat themselves in the forward end of the canoe, and took\npossession of the other himself, as erect and steady as if he floated\nin a vessel of much firmer materials. The Indians warily retraced their\nsteps toward the place they had left, when the scout, placing his pole\nagainst a rock, by a powerful shove, sent his frail bark directly into\nthe turbulent stream. For many minutes the struggle between the light\nbubble in which they floated and the swift current was severe and\ndoubtful. Forbidden to stir even a hand, and almost afraid to breath,\nlest they should expose the frail fabric to the fury of the stream,\nthe passengers watched the glancing waters in feverish suspense.\nTwenty times they thought the whirling eddies were sweeping them to\ndestruction, when the master-hand of their pilot would bring the bows of\nthe canoe to stem the rapid. A long, a vigorous, and, as it appeared\nto the females, a desperate effort, closed the struggle. Just as Alice\nveiled her eyes in horror, under the impression that they were about\nto be swept within the vortex at the foot of the cataract, the canoe\nfloated, stationary, at the side of a flat rock, that lay on a level\nwith the water.\n\n\"Where are we, and what is next to be done!\" demanded Heyward,\nperceiving that the exertions of the scout had ceased.\n\n\"You are at the foot of Glenn's,\" returned the other, speaking aloud,\nwithout fear of consequences within the roar of the cataract; \"and the\nnext thing is to make a steady landing, lest the canoe upset, and you\nshould go down again the hard road we have traveled faster than you came\nup; 'tis a hard rift to stem, when the river is a little swelled; and\nfive is an unnatural number to keep dry, in a hurry-skurry, with a\nlittle birchen bark and gum. There, go you all on the rock, and I will\nbring up the Mohicans with the venison. A man had better sleep without\nhis scalp, than famish in the midst of plenty.\"\n\nHis passengers gladly complied with these directions. As the last foot\ntouched the rock, the canoe whirled from its station, when the tall form\nof the scout was seen, for an instant, gliding above the waters, before\nit disappeared in the impenetrable darkness that rested on the bed of\nthe river. Left by their guide, the travelers remained a few minutes in\nhelpless ignorance, afraid even to move along the broken rocks, lest a\nfalse step should precipitate them down some one of the many deep and\nroaring caverns, into which the water seemed to tumble, on every side\nof them. Their suspense, however, was soon relieved; for, aided by the\nskill of the natives, the canoe shot back into the eddy, and floated\nagain at the side of the low rock, before they thought the scout had\neven time to rejoin his companions.\n\n\"We are now fortified, garrisoned, and provisioned,\" cried Heyward\ncheerfully, \"and may set Montcalm and his allies at defiance. How, now,\nmy vigilant sentinel, can see anything of those you call the Iroquois,\non the main land!\"\n\n\"I call them Iroquois, because to me every native, who speaks a foreign\ntongue, is accounted an enemy, though he may pretend to serve the king!\nIf Webb wants faith and honesty in an Indian, let him bring out the\ntribes of the Delawares, and send these greedy and lying Mohawks and\nOneidas, with their six nations of varlets, where in nature they belong,\namong the French!\"\n\n\"We should then exchange a warlike for a useless friend! I have heard\nthat the Delawares have laid aside the hatchet, and are content to be\ncalled women!\"\n\n\"Aye, shame on the Hollanders and Iroquois, who circumvented them by\ntheir deviltries, into such a treaty! But I have known them for twenty\nyears, and I call him liar that says cowardly blood runs in the veins\nof a Delaware. You have driven their tribes from the seashore, and would\nnow believe what their enemies say, that you may sleep at night upon an\neasy pillow. No, no; to me, every Indian who speaks a foreign tongue\nis an Iroquois, whether the castle* of his tribe be in Canada, or be in\nYork.\"\n\n     * The principal villages of the Indians are still called\n     \"castles\" by the whites of New York. \"Oneida castle\" is no\n     more than a scattered hamlet; but the name is in general\n     use.\n\nHeyward, perceiving that the stubborn adherence of the scout to the\ncause of his friends the Delawares, or Mohicans, for they were branches\nof the same numerous people, was likely to prolong a useless discussion,\nchanged the subject.\n\n\"Treaty or no treaty, I know full well that your two companions are\nbrave and cautious warriors! have they heard or seen anything of our\nenemies!\"\n\n\"An Indian is a mortal to be felt afore he is seen,\" returned the scout,\nascending the rock, and throwing the deer carelessly down. \"I trust to\nother signs than such as come in at the eye, when I am outlying on the\ntrail of the Mingoes.\"\n\n\"Do your ears tell you that they have traced our retreat?\"\n\n\"I should be sorry to think they had, though this is a spot that stout\ncourage might hold for a smart scrimmage. I will not deny, however,\nbut the horses cowered when I passed them, as though they scented the\nwolves; and a wolf is a beast that is apt to hover about an Indian\nambushment, craving the offals of the deer the savages kill.\"\n\n\"You forget the buck at your feet! or, may we not owe their visit to the\ndead colt? Ha! what noise is that?\"\n\n\"Poor Miriam!\" murmured the stranger; \"thy foal was foreordained to\nbecome a prey to ravenous beasts!\" Then, suddenly lifting up his voice,\namid the eternal din of the waters, he sang aloud: \"First born of Egypt,\nsmite did he, Of mankind, and of beast also: O, Egypt! wonders sent\n'midst thee, On Pharaoh and his servants too!\"\n\n\"The death of the colt sits heavy on the heart of its owner,\" said the\nscout; \"but it's a good sign to see a man account upon his dumb friends.\nHe has the religion of the matter, in believing what is to happen will\nhappen; and with such a consolation, it won't be long afore he submits\nto the rationality of killing a four-footed beast to save the lives of\nhuman men. It may be as you say,\" he continued, reverting to the purport\nof Heyward's last remark; \"and the greater the reason why we should cut\nour steaks, and let the carcass drive down the stream, or we shall have\nthe pack howling along the cliffs, begrudging every mouthful we swallow.\nBesides, though the Delaware tongue is the same as a book to the\nIroquois, the cunning varlets are quick enough at understanding the\nreason of a wolf's howl.\"\n\nThe scout, while making his remarks, was busied in collecting certain\nnecessary implements; as he concluded, he moved silently by the group\nof travelers, accompanied by the Mohicans, who seemed to comprehend his\nintentions with instinctive readiness, when the whole three\ndisappeared in succession, seeming to vanish against the dark face of\na perpendicular rock that rose to the height of a few yards, within as\nmany feet of the water's edge.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 6\n\n     \"Those strains that once did sweet in Zion glide;\n     He wales a portion with judicious care;\n     And 'Let us worship God', he says, with solemn air.\"--Burns\n\nHeyward and his female companions witnessed this mysterious movement\nwith secret uneasiness; for, though the conduct of the white man had\nhitherto been above reproach, his rude equipments, blunt address,\nand strong antipathies, together with the character of his silent\nassociates, were all causes for exciting distrust in minds that had been\nso recently alarmed by Indian treachery.\n\nThe stranger alone disregarded the passing incidents. He seated\nhimself on a projection of the rocks, whence he gave no other signs\nof consciousness than by the struggles of his spirit, as manifested in\nfrequent and heavy sighs. Smothered voices were next heard, as though\nmen called to each other in the bowels of the earth, when a sudden light\nflashed upon those without, and laid bare the much-prized secret of the\nplace.\n\nAt the further extremity of a narrow, deep cavern in the rock, whose\nlength appeared much extended by the perspective and the nature of the\nlight by which it was seen, was seated the scout, holding a blazing\nknot of pine. The strong glare of the fire fell full upon his sturdy,\nweather-beaten countenance and forest attire, lending an air of romantic\nwildness to the aspect of an individual, who, seen by the sober light of\nday, would have exhibited the peculiarities of a man remarkable for the\nstrangeness of his dress, the iron-like inflexibility of his frame,\nand the singular compound of quick, vigilant sagacity, and of exquisite\nsimplicity, that by turns usurped the possession of his muscular\nfeatures. At a little distance in advance stood Uncas, his whole person\nthrown powerfully into view. The travelers anxiously regarded the\nupright, flexible figure of the young Mohican, graceful and unrestrained\nin the attitudes and movements of nature. Though his person was more\nthan usually screened by a green and fringed hunting-shirt, like that of\nthe white man, there was no concealment to his dark, glancing, fearless\neye, alike terrible and calm; the bold outline of his high, haughty\nfeatures, pure in their native red; or to the dignified elevation of his\nreceding forehead, together with all the finest proportions of a noble\nhead, bared to the generous scalping tuft. It was the first opportunity\npossessed by Duncan and his companions to view the marked lineaments of\neither of their Indian attendants, and each individual of the party felt\nrelieved from a burden of doubt, as the proud and determined, though\nwild expression of the features of the young warrior forced itself on\ntheir notice. They felt it might be a being partially benighted in the\nvale of ignorance, but it could not be one who would willingly devote\nhis rich natural gifts to the purposes of wanton treachery. The\ningenuous Alice gazed at his free air and proud carriage, as she would\nhave looked upon some precious relic of the Grecian chisel, to which\nlife had been imparted by the intervention of a miracle; while Heyward,\nthough accustomed to see the perfection of form which abounds among\nthe uncorrupted natives, openly expressed his admiration at such an\nunblemished specimen of the noblest proportions of man.\n\n\"I could sleep in peace,\" whispered Alice, in reply, \"with such a\nfearless and generous-looking youth for my sentinel. Surely, Duncan,\nthose cruel murders, those terrific scenes of torture, of which we read\nand hear so much, are never acted in the presence of such as he!\"\n\n\"This certainly is a rare and brilliant instance of those natural\nqualities in which these peculiar people are said to excel,\" he\nanswered. \"I agree with you, Alice, in thinking that such a front and\neye were formed rather to intimidate than to deceive; but let us not\npractice a deception upon ourselves, by expecting any other exhibition\nof what we esteem virtue than according to the fashion of the savage.\nAs bright examples of great qualities are but too uncommon among\nChristians, so are they singular and solitary with the Indians; though,\nfor the honor of our common nature, neither are incapable of producing\nthem. Let us then hope that this Mohican may not disappoint our wishes,\nbut prove what his looks assert him to be, a brave and constant friend.\"\n\n\"Now Major Heyward speaks as Major Heyward should,\" said Cora; \"who that\nlooks at this creature of nature, remembers the shade of his skin?\"\n\nA short and apparently an embarrassed silence succeeded this remark,\nwhich was interrupted by the scout calling to them, aloud, to enter.\n\n\"This fire begins to show too bright a flame,\" he continued, as they\ncomplied, \"and might light the Mingoes to our undoing. Uncas, drop the\nblanket, and show the knaves its dark side. This is not such a supper\nas a major of the Royal Americans has a right to expect, but I've\nknown stout detachments of the corps glad to eat their venison raw, and\nwithout a relish, too*. Here, you see, we have plenty of salt, and can\nmake a quick broil. There's fresh sassafras boughs for the ladies to sit\non, which may not be as proud as their my-hog-guinea chairs, but which\nsends up a sweeter flavor, than the skin of any hog can do, be it of\nGuinea, or be it of any other land. Come, friend, don't be mournful for\nthe colt; 'twas an innocent thing, and had not seen much hardship. Its\ndeath will save the creature many a sore back and weary foot!\"\n\n     * In vulgar parlance the condiments of a repast are called\n     by the American \"a relish,\" substituting the thing for its\n     effect. These provincial terms are frequently put in the\n     mouths of the speakers, according to their several\n     conditions in life. Most of them are of local use, and\n     others quite peculiar to the particular class of men to\n     which the character belongs. In the present instance, the\n     scout uses the word with immediate reference to the \"salt,\"\n     with which his own party was so fortunate as to be provided.\n\nUncas did as the other had directed, and when the voice of Hawkeye\nceased, the roar of the cataract sounded like the rumbling of distant\nthunder.\n\n\"Are we quite safe in this cavern?\" demanded Heyward. \"Is there no\ndanger of surprise? A single armed man, at its entrance, would hold us\nat his mercy.\"\n\nA spectral-looking figure stalked from out of the darkness behind the\nscout, and seizing a blazing brand, held it toward the further extremity\nof their place of retreat. Alice uttered a faint shriek, and even Cora\nrose to her feet, as this appalling object moved into the light; but\na single word from Heyward calmed them, with the assurance it was only\ntheir attendant, Chingachgook, who, lifting another blanket, discovered\nthat the cavern had two outlets. Then, holding the brand, he crossed\na deep, narrow chasm in the rocks which ran at right angles with the\npassage they were in, but which, unlike that, was open to the heavens,\nand entered another cave, answering to the description of the first, in\nevery essential particular.\n\n\"Such old foxes as Chingachgook and myself are not often caught in a\nbarrow with one hole,\" said Hawkeye, laughing; \"you can easily see the\ncunning of the place--the rock is black limestone, which everybody knows\nis soft; it makes no uncomfortable pillow, where brush and pine wood is\nscarce; well, the fall was once a few yards below us, and I dare to say\nwas, in its time, as regular and as handsome a sheet of water as any\nalong the Hudson. But old age is a great injury to good looks, as these\nsweet young ladies have yet to l'arn! The place is sadly changed! These\nrocks are full of cracks, and in some places they are softer than at\nothersome, and the water has worked out deep hollows for itself, until\nit has fallen back, ay, some hundred feet, breaking here and wearing\nthere, until the falls have neither shape nor consistency.\"\n\n\"In what part of them are we?\" asked Heyward.\n\n\"Why, we are nigh the spot that Providence first placed them at, but\nwhere, it seems, they were too rebellious to stay. The rock proved\nsofter on each side of us, and so they left the center of the river bare\nand dry, first working out these two little holes for us to hide in.\"\n\n\"We are then on an island!\"\n\n\"Ay! there are the falls on two sides of us, and the river above and\nbelow. If you had daylight, it would be worth the trouble to step up\non the height of this rock, and look at the perversity of the water. It\nfalls by no rule at all; sometimes it leaps, sometimes it tumbles;\nthere it skips; here it shoots; in one place 'tis white as snow, and in\nanother 'tis green as grass; hereabouts, it pitches into deep hollows,\nthat rumble and crush the 'arth; and thereaways, it ripples and sings\nlike a brook, fashioning whirlpools and gullies in the old stone, as if\n'twas no harder than trodden clay. The whole design of the river seems\ndisconcerted. First it runs smoothly, as if meaning to go down the\ndescent as things were ordered; then it angles about and faces the\nshores; nor are there places wanting where it looks backward, as if\nunwilling to leave the wilderness, to mingle with the salt. Ay, lady,\nthe fine cobweb-looking cloth you wear at your throat is coarse,\nand like a fishnet, to little spots I can show you, where the river\nfabricates all sorts of images, as if having broke loose from order, it\nwould try its hand at everything. And yet what does it amount to! After\nthe water has been suffered so to have its will, for a time, like a\nheadstrong man, it is gathered together by the hand that made it, and a\nfew rods below you may see it all, flowing on steadily toward the sea,\nas was foreordained from the first foundation of the 'arth!\"\n\nWhile his auditors received a cheering assurance of the security of\ntheir place of concealment from this untutored description of Glenn's,*\nthey were much inclined to judge differently from Hawkeye, of its wild\nbeauties. But they were not in a situation to suffer their thoughts to\ndwell on the charms of natural objects; and, as the scout had not found\nit necessary to cease his culinary labors while he spoke, unless to\npoint out, with a broken fork, the direction of some particularly\nobnoxious point in the rebellious stream, they now suffered their\nattention to be drawn to the necessary though more vulgar consideration\nof their supper.\n\n     * Glenn's Falls are on the Hudson, some forty or fifty miles\n     above the head of tide, or that place where the river\n     becomes navigable for sloops. The description of this\n     picturesque and remarkable little cataract, as given by the\n     scout, is sufficiently correct, though the application of\n     the water to uses of civilized life has materially injured\n     its beauties. The rocky island and the two caverns are known\n     to every traveler, since the former sustains the pier of a\n     bridge, which is now thrown across the river, immediately\n     above the fall. In explanation of the taste of Hawkeye, it\n     should be remembered that men always prize that most which\n     is least enjoyed. Thus, in a new country, the woods and\n     other objects, which in an old country would be maintained\n     at great cost, are got rid of, simply with a view of\n     \"improving\" as it is called.\n\nThe repast, which was greatly aided by the addition of a few delicacies\nthat Heyward had the precaution to bring with him when they left their\nhorses, was exceedingly refreshing to the weary party. Uncas acted as\nattendant to the females, performing all the little offices within his\npower, with a mixture of dignity and anxious grace, that served to amuse\nHeyward, who well knew that it was an utter innovation on the\nIndian customs, which forbid their warriors to descend to any menial\nemployment, especially in favor of their women. As the rights of\nhospitality were, however, considered sacred among them, this little\ndeparture from the dignity of manhood excited no audible comment. Had\nthere been one there sufficiently disengaged to become a close observer,\nhe might have fancied that the services of the young chief were not\nentirely impartial. That while he tendered to Alice the gourd of sweet\nwater, and the venison in a trencher, neatly carved from the knot of the\npepperidge, with sufficient courtesy, in performing the same offices\nto her sister, his dark eye lingered on her rich, speaking countenance.\nOnce or twice he was compelled to speak, to command her attention\nof those he served. In such cases he made use of English, broken and\nimperfect, but sufficiently intelligible, and which he rendered so mild\nand musical, by his deep, guttural voice, that it never failed to cause\nboth ladies to look up in admiration and astonishment. In the course\nof these civilities, a few sentences were exchanged, that served to\nestablish the appearance of an amicable intercourse between the parties.\n\nIn the meanwhile, the gravity of Chingcachgook remained immovable. He\nhad seated himself more within the circle of light, where the frequent,\nuneasy glances of his guests were better enabled to separate the natural\nexpression of his face from the artificial terrors of the war paint.\nThey found a strong resemblance between father and son, with the\ndifference that might be expected from age and hardships. The fierceness\nof his countenance now seemed to slumber, and in its place was to be\nseen the quiet, vacant composure which distinguishes an Indian warrior,\nwhen his faculties are not required for any of the greater purposes\nof his existence. It was, however, easy to be seen, by the occasional\ngleams that shot across his swarthy visage, that it was only necessary\nto arouse his passions, in order to give full effect to the terrific\ndevice which he had adopted to intimidate his enemies. On the other\nhand, the quick, roving eye of the scout seldom rested. He ate and\ndrank with an appetite that no sense of danger could disturb, but his\nvigilance seemed never to desert him. Twenty times the gourd or the\nvenison was suspended before his lips, while his head was turned aside,\nas though he listened to some distant and distrusted sounds--a movement\nthat never failed to recall his guests from regarding the novelties\nof their situation, to a recollection of the alarming reasons that had\ndriven them to seek it. As these frequent pauses were never followed by\nany remark, the momentary uneasiness they created quickly passed away,\nand for a time was forgotten.\n\n\"Come, friend,\" said Hawkeye, drawing out a keg from beneath a cover of\nleaves, toward the close of the repast, and addressing the stranger\nwho sat at his elbow, doing great justice to his culinary skill, \"try\na little spruce; 'twill wash away all thoughts of the colt, and quicken\nthe life in your bosom. I drink to our better friendship, hoping that\na little horse-flesh may leave no heart-burnings atween us. How do you\nname yourself?\"\n\n\"Gamut--David Gamut,\" returned the singing master, preparing to wash\ndown his sorrows in a powerful draught of the woodsman's high-flavored\nand well-laced compound.\n\n\"A very good name, and, I dare say, handed down from honest forefathers.\nI'm an admirator of names, though the Christian fashions fall far below\nsavage customs in this particular. The biggest coward I ever knew as\ncalled Lyon; and his wife, Patience, would scold you out of hearing\nin less time than a hunted deer would run a rod. With an Indian 'tis a\nmatter of conscience; what he calls himself, he generally is--not that\nChingachgook, which signifies Big Sarpent, is really a snake, big or\nlittle; but that he understands the windings and turnings of human\nnatur', and is silent, and strikes his enemies when they least expect\nhim. What may be your calling?\"\n\n\"I am an unworthy instructor in the art of psalmody.\"\n\n\"Anan!\"\n\n\"I teach singing to the youths of the Connecticut levy.\"\n\n\"You might be better employed. The young hounds go laughing and singing\ntoo much already through the woods, when they ought not to breathe\nlouder than a fox in his cover. Can you use the smoothbore, or handle\nthe rifle?\"\n\n\"Praised be God, I have never had occasion to meddle with murderous\nimplements!\"\n\n\"Perhaps you understand the compass, and lay down the watercourses and\nmountains of the wilderness on paper, in order that they who follow may\nfind places by their given names?\"\n\n\"I practice no such employment.\"\n\n\"You have a pair of legs that might make a long path seem short! you\njourney sometimes, I fancy, with tidings for the general.\"\n\n\"Never; I follow no other than my own high vocation, which is\ninstruction in sacred music!\"\n\n\"'Tis a strange calling!\" muttered Hawkeye, with an inward laugh, \"to\ngo through life, like a catbird, mocking all the ups and downs that may\nhappen to come out of other men's throats. Well, friend, I suppose it\nis your gift, and mustn't be denied any more than if 'twas shooting, or\nsome other better inclination. Let us hear what you can do in that way;\n'twill be a friendly manner of saying good-night, for 'tis time that\nthese ladies should be getting strength for a hard and a long push, in\nthe pride of the morning, afore the Maquas are stirring.\"\n\n\"With joyful pleasure do I consent\", said David, adjusting his\niron-rimmed spectacles, and producing his beloved little volume,\nwhich he immediately tendered to Alice. \"What can be more fitting\nand consolatory, than to offer up evening praise, after a day of such\nexceeding jeopardy!\"\n\nAlice smiled; but, regarding Heyward, she blushed and hesitated.\n\n\"Indulge yourself,\" he whispered; \"ought not the suggestion of the\nworthy namesake of the Psalmist to have its weight at such a moment?\"\n\nEncouraged by his opinion, Alice did what her pious inclinations, and\nher keen relish for gentle sounds, had before so strongly urged. The\nbook was open at a hymn not ill adapted to their situation, and in which\nthe poet, no longer goaded by his desire to excel the inspired King\nof Israel, had discovered some chastened and respectable powers. Cora\nbetrayed a disposition to support her sister, and the sacred song\nproceeded, after the indispensable preliminaries of the pitchpipe, and\nthe tune had been duly attended to by the methodical David.\n\nThe air was solemn and slow. At times it rose to the fullest compass of\nthe rich voices of the females, who hung over their little book in holy\nexcitement, and again it sank so low, that the rushing of the waters ran\nthrough their melody, like a hollow accompaniment. The natural taste and\ntrue ear of David governed and modified the sounds to suit the confined\ncavern, every crevice and cranny of which was filled with the thrilling\nnotes of their flexible voices. The Indians riveted their eyes on the\nrocks, and listened with an attention that seemed to turn them into\nstone. But the scout, who had placed his chin in his hand, with an\nexpression of cold indifference, gradually suffered his rigid features\nto relax, until, as verse succeeded verse, he felt his iron nature\nsubdued, while his recollection was carried back to boyhood, when his\nears had been accustomed to listen to similar sounds of praise, in the\nsettlements of the colony. His roving eyes began to moisten, and before\nthe hymn was ended scalding tears rolled out of fountains that had long\nseemed dry, and followed each other down those cheeks, that had oftener\nfelt the storms of heaven than any testimonials of weakness. The singers\nwere dwelling on one of those low, dying chords, which the ear devours\nwith such greedy rapture, as if conscious that it is about to lose them,\nwhen a cry, that seemed neither human nor earthly, rose in the outward\nair, penetrating not only the recesses of the cavern, but to the inmost\nhearts of all who heard it. It was followed by a stillness apparently\nas deep as if the waters had been checked in their furious progress, at\nsuch a horrid and unusual interruption.\n\n\"What is it?\" murmured Alice, after a few moments of terrible suspense.\n\n\"What is it?\" repeated Hewyard aloud.\n\nNeither Hawkeye nor the Indians made any reply. They listened, as if\nexpecting the sound would be repeated, with a manner that expressed\ntheir own astonishment. At length they spoke together, earnestly, in the\nDelaware language, when Uncas, passing by the inner and most concealed\naperture, cautiously left the cavern. When he had gone, the scout first\nspoke in English.\n\n\"What it is, or what it is not, none here can tell, though two of us\nhave ranged the woods for more than thirty years. I did believe there\nwas no cry that Indian or beast could make, that my ears had not heard;\nbut this has proved that I was only a vain and conceited mortal.\"\n\n\"Was it not, then, the shout the warriors make when they wish to\nintimidate their enemies?\" asked Cora who stood drawing her veil about\nher person, with a calmness to which her agitated sister was a stranger.\n\n\"No, no; this was bad, and shocking, and had a sort of unhuman sound;\nbut when you once hear the war-whoop, you will never mistake it for\nanything else. Well, Uncas!\" speaking in Delaware to the young chief as\nhe re-entered, \"what see you? do our lights shine through the blankets?\"\n\nThe answer was short, and apparently decided, being given in the same\ntongue.\n\n\"There is nothing to be seen without,\" continued Hawkeye, shaking his\nhead in discontent; \"and our hiding-place is still in darkness. Pass\ninto the other cave, you that need it, and seek for sleep; we must\nbe afoot long before the sun, and make the most of our time to get to\nEdward, while the Mingoes are taking their morning nap.\"\n\nCora set the example of compliance, with a steadiness that taught the\nmore timid Alice the necessity of obedience. Before leaving the place,\nhowever, she whispered a request to Duncan, that he would follow. Uncas\nraised the blanket for their passage, and as the sisters turned to thank\nhim for this act of attention, they saw the scout seated again before\nthe dying embers, with his face resting on his hands, in a manner which\nshowed how deeply he brooded on the unaccountable interruption which had\nbroken up their evening devotions.\n\nHeyward took with him a blazing knot, which threw a dim light through\nthe narrow vista of their new apartment. Placing it in a favorable\nposition, he joined the females, who now found themselves alone with\nhim for the first time since they had left the friendly ramparts of Fort\nEdward.\n\n\"Leave us not, Duncan,\" said Alice: \"we cannot sleep in such a place as\nthis, with that horrid cry still ringing in our ears.\"\n\n\"First let us examine into the security of your fortress,\" he answered,\n\"and then we will speak of rest.\"\n\nHe approached the further end of the cavern, to an outlet, which, like\nthe others, was concealed by blankets; and removing the thick screen,\nbreathed the fresh and reviving air from the cataract. One arm of the\nriver flowed through a deep, narrow ravine, which its current had\nworn in the soft rock, directly beneath his feet, forming an effectual\ndefense, as he believed, against any danger from that quarter; the\nwater, a few rods above them, plunging, glancing, and sweeping along in\nits most violent and broken manner.\n\n\"Nature has made an impenetrable barrier on this side,\" he continued,\npointing down the perpendicular declivity into the dark current before\nhe dropped the blanket; \"and as you know that good men and true are on\nguard in front I see no reason why the advice of our honest host should\nbe disregarded. I am certain Cora will join me in saying that sleep is\nnecessary to you both.\"\n\n\"Cora may submit to the justice of your opinion though she cannot put it\nin practice,\" returned the elder sister, who had placed herself by the\nside of Alice, on a couch of sassafras; \"there would be other causes to\nchase away sleep, though we had been spared the shock of this mysterious\nnoise. Ask yourself, Heyward, can daughters forget the anxiety a father\nmust endure, whose children lodge he knows not where or how, in such a\nwilderness, and in the midst of so many perils?\"\n\n\"He is a soldier, and knows how to estimate the chances of the woods.\"\n\n\"He is a father, and cannot deny his nature.\"\n\n\"How kind has he ever been to all my follies, how tender and indulgent\nto all my wishes!\" sobbed Alice. \"We have been selfish, sister, in\nurging our visit at such hazard.\"\n\n\"I may have been rash in pressing his consent in a moment of much\nembarrassment, but I would have proved to him, that however others might\nneglect him in his strait his children at least were faithful.\"\n\n\"When he heard of your arrival at Edward,\" said Heyward, kindly, \"there\nwas a powerful struggle in his bosom between fear and love; though\nthe latter, heightened, if possible, by so long a separation, quickly\nprevailed. 'It is the spirit of my noble-minded Cora that leads them,\nDuncan', he said, 'and I will not balk it. Would to God, that he who\nholds the honor of our royal master in his guardianship, would show but\nhalf her firmness!'\"\n\n\"And did he not speak of me, Heyward?\" demanded Alice, with jealous\naffection; \"surely, he forgot not altogether his little Elsie?\"\n\n\"That were impossible,\" returned the young man; \"he called you by a\nthousand endearing epithets, that I may not presume to use, but to the\njustice of which, I can warmly testify. Once, indeed, he said--\"\n\nDuncan ceased speaking; for while his eyes were riveted on those of\nAlice, who had turned toward him with the eagerness of filial affection,\nto catch his words, the same strong, horrid cry, as before, filled the\nair, and rendered him mute. A long, breathless silence succeeded, during\nwhich each looked at the others in fearful expectation of hearing the\nsound repeated. At length, the blanket was slowly raised, and the scout\nstood in the aperture with a countenance whose firmness evidently\nbegan to give way before a mystery that seemed to threaten some danger,\nagainst which all his cunning and experience might prove of no avail.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 7\n\n     \"They do not sleep,\n     On yonder cliffs, a grizzly band,\n     I see them sit.\"--Gray\n\n\"'Twould be neglecting a warning that is given for our good to lie hid\nany longer,\" said Hawkeye \"when such sounds are raised in the forest.\nThese gentle ones may keep close, but the Mohicans and I will watch upon\nthe rock, where I suppose a major of the Sixtieth would wish to keep us\ncompany.\"\n\n\"Is, then, our danger so pressing?\" asked Cora.\n\n\"He who makes strange sounds, and gives them out for man's information,\nalone knows our danger. I should think myself wicked, unto rebellion\nagainst His will, was I to burrow with such warnings in the air! Even\nthe weak soul who passes his days in singing is stirred by the cry,\nand, as he says, is 'ready to go forth to the battle' If 'twere only a\nbattle, it would be a thing understood by us all, and easily managed;\nbut I have heard that when such shrieks are atween heaven and 'arth, it\nbetokens another sort of warfare!\"\n\n\"If all our reasons for fear, my friend, are confined to such as proceed\nfrom supernatural causes, we have but little occasion to be alarmed,\"\ncontinued the undisturbed Cora, \"are you certain that our enemies have\nnot invented some new and ingenious method to strike us with terror,\nthat their conquest may become more easy?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" returned the scout, solemnly, \"I have listened to all the sounds\nof the woods for thirty years, as a man will listen whose life and death\ndepend on the quickness of his ears. There is no whine of the panther,\nno whistle of the catbird, nor any invention of the devilish Mingoes,\nthat can cheat me! I have heard the forest moan like mortal men in their\naffliction; often, and again, have I listened to the wind playing\nits music in the branches of the girdled trees; and I have heard the\nlightning cracking in the air like the snapping of blazing brush as it\nspitted forth sparks and forked flames; but never have I thought that I\nheard more than the pleasure of him who sported with the things of his\nhand. But neither the Mohicans, nor I, who am a white man without a\ncross, can explain the cry just heard. We, therefore, believe it a sign\ngiven for our good.\"\n\n\"It is extraordinary!\" said Heyward, taking his pistols from the place\nwhere he had laid them on entering; \"be it a sign of peace or a signal\nof war, it must be looked to. Lead the way, my friend; I follow.\"\n\nOn issuing from their place of confinement, the whole party instantly\nexperienced a grateful renovation of spirits, by exchanging the pent\nair of the hiding-place for the cool and invigorating atmosphere which\nplayed around the whirlpools and pitches of the cataract. A heavy\nevening breeze swept along the surface of the river, and seemed to drive\nthe roar of the falls into the recesses of their own cavern, whence it\nissued heavily and constant, like thunder rumbling beyond the distant\nhills. The moon had risen, and its light was already glancing here and\nthere on the waters above them; but the extremity of the rock where they\nstood still lay in shadow. With the exception of the sounds produced\nby the rushing waters, and an occasional breathing of the air, as it\nmurmured past them in fitful currents, the scene was as still as night\nand solitude could make it. In vain were the eyes of each individual\nbent along the opposite shores, in quest of some signs of life, that\nmight explain the nature of the interruption they had heard. Their\nanxious and eager looks were baffled by the deceptive light, or rested\nonly on naked rocks, and straight and immovable trees.\n\n\"Here is nothing to be seen but the gloom and quiet of a lovely\nevening,\" whispered Duncan; \"how much should we prize such a scene, and\nall this breathing solitude, at any other moment, Cora! Fancy yourselves\nin security, and what now, perhaps, increases your terror, may be made\nconducive to enjoyment--\"\n\n\"Listen!\" interrupted Alice.\n\nThe caution was unnecessary. Once more the same sound arose, as if from\nthe bed of the river, and having broken out of the narrow bounds of the\ncliffs, was heard undulating through the forest, in distant and dying\ncadences.\n\n\"Can any here give a name to such a cry?\" demanded Hawkeye, when the\nlast echo was lost in the woods; \"if so, let him speak; for myself, I\njudge it not to belong to 'arth!\"\n\n\"Here, then, is one who can undeceive you,\" said Duncan; \"I know the\nsound full well, for often have I heard it on the field of battle, and\nin situations which are frequent in a soldier's life. 'Tis the horrid\nshriek that a horse will give in his agony; oftener drawn from him in\npain, though sometimes in terror. My charger is either a prey to the\nbeasts of the forest, or he sees his danger, without the power to avoid\nit. The sound might deceive me in the cavern, but in the open air I know\nit too well to be wrong.\"\n\nThe scout and his companions listened to this simple explanation with\nthe interest of men who imbibe new ideas, at the same time that they get\nrid of old ones, which had proved disagreeable inmates. The two latter\nuttered their usual expressive exclamation, \"hugh!\" as the truth first\nglanced upon their minds, while the former, after a short, musing pause,\ntook upon himself to reply.\n\n\"I cannot deny your words,\" he said, \"for I am little skilled in horses,\nthough born where they abound. The wolves must be hovering above their\nheads on the bank, and the timorsome creatures are calling on man\nfor help, in the best manner they are able. Uncas\"--he spoke in\nDelaware--\"Uncas, drop down in the canoe, and whirl a brand among the\npack; or fear may do what the wolves can't get at to perform, and leave\nus without horses in the morning, when we shall have so much need to\njourney swiftly!\"\n\nThe young native had already descended to the water to comply, when a\nlong howl was raised on the edge of the river, and was borne swiftly\noff into the depths of the forest, as though the beasts, of their\nown accord, were abandoning their prey in sudden terror. Uncas, with\ninstinctive quickness, receded, and the three foresters held another of\ntheir low, earnest conferences.\n\n\"We have been like hunters who have lost the points of the heavens, and\nfrom whom the sun has been hid for days,\" said Hawkeye, turning away\nfrom his companions; \"now we begin again to know the signs of our\ncourse, and the paths are cleared from briers! Seat yourselves in the\nshade which the moon throws from yonder beech--'tis thicker than that\nof the pines--and let us wait for that which the Lord may choose to\nsend next. Let all your conversation be in whispers; though it would be\nbetter, and, perhaps, in the end, wiser, if each one held discourse with\nhis own thoughts, for a time.\"\n\nThe manner of the scout was seriously impressive, though no longer\ndistinguished by any signs of unmanly apprehension. It was evident that\nhis momentary weakness had vanished with the explanation of a mystery\nwhich his own experience had not served to fathom; and though he now\nfelt all the realities of their actual condition, that he was prepared\nto meet them with the energy of his hardy nature. This feeling seemed\nalso common to the natives, who placed themselves in positions which\ncommanded a full view of both shores, while their own persons were\neffectually concealed from observation. In such circumstances, common\nprudence dictated that Heyward and his companions should imitate a\ncaution that proceeded from so intelligent a source. The young man drew\na pile of the sassafras from the cave, and placing it in the chasm which\nseparated the two caverns, it was occupied by the sisters, who were\nthus protected by the rocks from any missiles, while their anxiety\nwas relieved by the assurance that no danger could approach without\na warning. Heyward himself was posted at hand, so near that he might\ncommunicate with his companions without raising his voice to a dangerous\nelevation; while David, in imitation of the woodsmen, bestowed his\nperson in such a manner among the fissures of the rocks, that his\nungainly limbs were no longer offensive to the eye.\n\nIn this manner hours passed without further interruption. The moon\nreached the zenith, and shed its mild light perpendicularly on the\nlovely sight of the sisters slumbering peacefully in each other's arms.\nDuncan cast the wide shawl of Cora before a spectacle he so much loved\nto contemplate, and then suffered his own head to seek a pillow on the\nrock. David began to utter sounds that would have shocked his delicate\norgans in more wakeful moments; in short, all but Hawkeye and the\nMohicans lost every idea of consciousness, in uncontrollable drowsiness.\nBut the watchfulness of these vigilant protectors neither tired nor\nslumbered. Immovable as that rock, of which each appeared to form a\npart, they lay, with their eyes roving, without intermission, along the\ndark margin of trees, that bounded the adjacent shores of the narrow\nstream. Not a sound escaped them; the most subtle examination could\nnot have told they breathed. It was evident that this excess of caution\nproceeded from an experience that no subtlety on the part of their\nenemies could deceive. It was, however, continued without any apparent\nconsequences, until the moon had set, and a pale streak above the\ntreetops, at the bend of the river a little below, announced the\napproach of day.\n\nThen, for the first time, Hawkeye was seen to stir. He crawled along the\nrock and shook Duncan from his heavy slumbers.\n\n\"Now is the time to journey,\" he whispered; \"awake the gentle ones, and\nbe ready to get into the canoe when I bring it to the landing-place.\"\n\n\"Have you had a quiet night?\" said Heyward; \"for myself, I believe sleep\nhas got the better of my vigilance.\"\n\n\"All is yet still as midnight. Be silent, but be quick.\"\n\nBy this time Duncan was thoroughly awake, and he immediately lifted the\nshawl from the sleeping females. The motion caused Cora to raise her\nhand as if to repulse him, while Alice murmured, in her soft, gentle\nvoice, \"No, no, dear father, we were not deserted; Duncan was with us!\"\n\n\"Yes, sweet innocence,\" whispered the youth; \"Duncan is here, and while\nlife continues or danger remains, he will never quit thee. Cora! Alice!\nawake! The hour has come to move!\"\n\nA loud shriek from the younger of the sisters, and the form of the other\nstanding upright before him, in bewildered horror, was the unexpected\nanswer he received.\n\nWhile the words were still on the lips of Heyward, there had arisen such\na tumult of yells and cries as served to drive the swift currents of his\nown blood back from its bounding course into the fountains of his heart.\nIt seemed, for near a minute, as if the demons of hell had possessed\nthemselves of the air about them, and were venting their savage humors\nin barbarous sounds. The cries came from no particular direction, though\nit was evident they filled the woods, and, as the appalled listeners\neasily imagined, the caverns of the falls, the rocks, the bed of the\nriver, and the upper air. David raised his tall person in the midst of\nthe infernal din, with a hand on either ear, exclaiming:\n\n\"Whence comes this discord! Has hell broke loose, that man should utter\nsounds like these!\"\n\nThe bright flashes and the quick reports of a dozen rifles, from the\nopposite banks of the stream, followed this incautious exposure of his\nperson, and left the unfortunate singing master senseless on that rock\nwhere he had been so long slumbering. The Mohicans boldly sent back the\nintimidating yell of their enemies, who raised a shout of savage triumph\nat the fall of Gamut. The flash of rifles was then quick and close\nbetween them, but either party was too well skilled to leave even a limb\nexposed to the hostile aim. Duncan listened with intense anxiety for the\nstrokes of the paddle, believing that flight was now their only refuge.\nThe river glanced by with its ordinary velocity, but the canoe was\nnowhere to be seen on its dark waters. He had just fancied they were\ncruelly deserted by their scout, as a stream of flame issued from the\nrock beneath them, and a fierce yell, blended with a shriek of agony,\nannounced that the messenger of death sent from the fatal weapon of\nHawkeye, had found a victim. At this slight repulse the assailants\ninstantly withdrew, and gradually the place became as still as before\nthe sudden tumult.\n\nDuncan seized the favorable moment to spring to the body of Gamut,\nwhich he bore within the shelter of the narrow chasm that protected the\nsisters. In another minute the whole party was collected in this spot of\ncomparative safety.\n\n\"The poor fellow has saved his scalp,\" said Hawkeye, coolly passing his\nhand over the head of David; \"but he is a proof that a man may be born\nwith too long a tongue! 'Twas downright madness to show six feet of\nflesh and blood, on a naked rock, to the raging savages. I only wonder\nhe has escaped with life.\"\n\n\"Is he not dead?\" demanded Cora, in a voice whose husky tones showed how\npowerfully natural horror struggled with her assumed firmness. \"Can we\ndo aught to assist the wretched man?\"\n\n\"No, no! the life is in his heart yet, and after he has slept awhile he\nwill come to himself, and be a wiser man for it, till the hour of his\nreal time shall come,\" returned Hawkeye, casting another oblique glance\nat the insensible body, while he filled his charger with admirable\nnicety. \"Carry him in, Uncas, and lay him on the sassafras. The longer\nhis nap lasts the better it will be for him, as I doubt whether he can\nfind a proper cover for such a shape on these rocks; and singing won't\ndo any good with the Iroquois.\"\n\n\"You believe, then, the attack will be renewed?\" asked Heyward.\n\n\"Do I expect a hungry wolf will satisfy his craving with a mouthful!\nThey have lost a man, and 'tis their fashion, when they meet a loss,\nand fail in the surprise, to fall back; but we shall have them on again,\nwith new expedients to circumvent us, and master our scalps. Our main\nhope,\" he continued, raising his rugged countenance, across which a\nshade of anxiety just then passed like a darkening cloud, \"will be to\nkeep the rock until Munro can send a party to our help! God send it may\nbe soon and under a leader that knows the Indian customs!\"\n\n\"You hear our probable fortunes, Cora,\" said Duncan, \"and you know we\nhave everything to hope from the anxiety and experience of your father.\nCome, then, with Alice, into this cavern, where you, at least, will be\nsafe from the murderous rifles of our enemies, and where you may bestow\na care suited to your gentle natures on our unfortunate comrade.\"\n\nThe sisters followed him into the outer cave, where David was beginning,\nby his sighs, to give symptoms of returning consciousness, and then\ncommending the wounded man to their attention, he immediately prepared\nto leave them.\n\n\"Duncan!\" said the tremulous voice of Cora, when he had reached the\nmouth of the cavern. He turned and beheld the speaker, whose color had\nchanged to a deadly paleness, and whose lips quivered, gazing after him,\nwith an expression of interest which immediately recalled him to her\nside. \"Remember, Duncan, how necessary your safety is to our own--how\nyou bear a father's sacred trust--how much depends on your discretion\nand care--in short,\" she added, while the telltale blood stole over her\nfeatures, crimsoning her very temples, \"how very deservedly dear you are\nto all of the name of Munro.\"\n\n\"If anything could add to my own base love of life,\" said Heyward,\nsuffering his unconscious eyes to wander to the youthful form of\nthe silent Alice, \"it would be so kind an assurance. As major of the\nSixtieth, our honest host will tell you I must take my share of the\nfray; but our task will be easy; it is merely to keep these blood-hounds\nat bay for a few hours.\"\n\nWithout waiting for a reply, he tore himself from the presence of the\nsisters, and joined the scout and his companions, who still lay within\nthe protection of the little chasm between the two caves.\n\n\"I tell you, Uncas,\" said the former, as Heyward joined them, \"you are\nwasteful of your powder, and the kick of the rifle disconcerts your aim!\nLittle powder, light lead, and a long arm, seldom fail of bringing the\ndeath screech from a Mingo! At least, such has been my experience with\nthe creatur's. Come, friends: let us to our covers, for no man can tell\nwhen or where a Maqua* will strike his blow.\"\n\n     * Mingo was the Delaware term of the Five Nations. Maquas\n     was the name given them by the Dutch. The French, from their\n     first intercourse with them, called them Iroquois.\n\nThe Indians silently repaired to their appointed stations, which were\nfissures in the rocks, whence they could command the approaches to the\nfoot of the falls. In the center of the little island, a few short and\nstunted pines had found root, forming a thicket, into which Hawkeye\ndarted with the swiftness of a deer, followed by the active Duncan. Here\nthey secured themselves, as well as circumstances would permit, among\nthe shrubs and fragments of stone that were scattered about the place.\nAbove them was a bare, rounded rock, on each side of which the water\nplayed its gambols, and plunged into the abysses beneath, in the manner\nalready described. As the day had now dawned, the opposite shores no\nlonger presented a confused outline, but they were able to look into the\nwoods, and distinguish objects beneath a canopy of gloomy pines.\n\nA long and anxious watch succeeded, but without any further evidences\nof a renewed attack; and Duncan began to hope that their fire had\nproved more fatal than was supposed, and that their enemies had been\neffectually repulsed. When he ventured to utter this impression to his\ncompanions, it was met by Hawkeye with an incredulous shake of the head.\n\n\"You know not the nature of a Maqua, if you think he is so easily\nbeaten back without a scalp!\" he answered. \"If there was one of the imps\nyelling this morning, there were forty! and they know our number and\nquality too well to give up the chase so soon. Hist! look into the water\nabove, just where it breaks over the rocks. I am no mortal, if the risky\ndevils haven't swam down upon the very pitch, and, as bad luck would\nhave it, they have hit the head of the island. Hist! man, keep close! or\nthe hair will be off your crown in the turning of a knife!\"\n\nHeyward lifted his head from the cover, and beheld what he justly\nconsidered a prodigy of rashness and skill. The river had worn away the\nedge of the soft rock in such a manner as to render its first pitch\nless abrupt and perpendicular than is usual at waterfalls. With no other\nguide than the ripple of the stream where it met the head of the island,\na party of their insatiable foes had ventured into the current, and\nswam down upon this point, knowing the ready access it would give, if\nsuccessful, to their intended victims.\n\nAs Hawkeye ceased speaking, four human heads could be seen peering above\na few logs of drift-wood that had lodged on these naked rocks, and which\nhad probably suggested the idea of the practicability of the hazardous\nundertaking. At the next moment, a fifth form was seen floating over the\ngreen edge of the fall, a little from the line of the island. The savage\nstruggled powerfully to gain the point of safety, and, favored by the\nglancing water, he was already stretching forth an arm to meet the grasp\nof his companions, when he shot away again with the shirling current,\nappeared to rise into the air, with uplifted arms and starting eyeballs,\nand fell, with a sudden plunge, into that deep and yawning abyss over\nwhich he hovered. A single, wild, despairing shriek rose from the\ncavern, and all was hushed again as the grave.\n\nThe first generous impulse of Duncan was to rush to the rescue of the\nhapless wretch; but he felt himself bound to the spot by the iron grasp\nof the immovable scout.\n\n\"Would ye bring certain death upon us, by telling the Mingoes where we\nlie?\" demanded Hawkeye, sternly; \"'Tis a charge of powder saved, and\nammunition is as precious now as breath to a worried deer! Freshen the\npriming of your pistols--the midst of the falls is apt to dampen the\nbrimstone--and stand firm for a close struggle, while I fire on their\nrush.\"\n\nHe placed a finger in his mouth, and drew a long, shrill whistle, which\nwas answered from the rocks that were guarded by the Mohicans. Duncan\ncaught glimpses of heads above the scattered drift-wood, as this signal\nrose on the air, but they disappeared again as suddenly as they had\nglanced upon his sight. A low, rustling sound next drew his attention\nbehind him, and turning his head, he beheld Uncas within a few feet,\ncreeping to his side. Hawkeye spoke to him in Delaware, when the young\nchief took his position with singular caution and undisturbed coolness.\nTo Heyward this was a moment of feverish and impatient suspense; though\nthe scout saw fit to select it as a fit occasion to read a lecture\nto his more youthful associates on the art of using firearms with\ndiscretion.\n\n\"Of all we'pons,\" he commenced, \"the long barreled, true-grooved,\nsoft-metaled rifle is the most dangerous in skillful hands, though it\nwants a strong arm, a quick eye, and great judgment in charging, to put\nforth all its beauties. The gunsmiths can have but little insight into\ntheir trade when they make their fowling-pieces and short horsemen's--\"\n\nHe was interrupted by the low but expressive \"hugh\" of Uncas.\n\n\"I see them, boy, I see them!\" continued Hawkeye; \"they are gathering\nfor the rush, or they would keep their dingy backs below the logs. Well,\nlet them,\" he added, examining his flint; \"the leading man certainly\ncomes on to his death, though it should be Montcalm himself!\"\n\nAt that moment the woods were filled with another burst of cries, and at\nthe signal four savages sprang from the cover of the driftwood. Heyward\nfelt a burning desire to rush forward to meet them, so intense was the\ndelirious anxiety of the moment; but he was restrained by the deliberate\nexamples of the scout and Uncas.\n\nWhen their foes, who had leaped over the black rocks that divided them,\nwith long bounds, uttering the wildest yells, were within a few rods,\nthe rifle of Hawkeye slowly rose among the shrubs, and poured out its\nfatal contents. The foremost Indian bounded like a stricken deer, and\nfell headlong among the clefts of the island.\n\n\"Now, Uncas!\" cried the scout, drawing his long knife, while his quick\neyes began to flash with ardor, \"take the last of the screeching imps;\nof the other two we are sartain!\"\n\nHe was obeyed; and but two enemies remained to be overcome. Heyward had\ngiven one of his pistols to Hawkeye, and together they rushed down a\nlittle declivity toward their foes; they discharged their weapons at the\nsame instant, and equally without success.\n\n\"I know'd it! and I said it!\" muttered the scout, whirling the despised\nlittle implement over the falls with bitter disdain. \"Come on, ye bloody\nminded hell-hounds! ye meet a man without a cross!\"\n\nThe words were barely uttered, when he encountered a savage of gigantic\nstature, of the fiercest mien. At the same moment, Duncan found himself\nengaged with the other, in a similar contest of hand to hand. With ready\nskill, Hawkeye and his antagonist each grasped that uplifted arm of\nthe other which held the dangerous knife. For near a minute they stood\nlooking one another in the eye, and gradually exerting the power of\ntheir muscles for the mastery.\n\nAt length, the toughened sinews of the white man prevailed over the less\npracticed limbs of the native. The arm of the latter slowly gave way\nbefore the increasing force of the scout, who, suddenly wresting his\narmed hand from the grasp of the foe, drove the sharp weapon through his\nnaked bosom to the heart. In the meantime, Heyward had been pressed in\na more deadly struggle. His slight sword was snapped in the first\nencounter. As he was destitute of any other means of defense, his\nsafety now depended entirely on bodily strength and resolution. Though\ndeficient in neither of these qualities, he had met an enemy every way\nhis equal. Happily, he soon succeeded in disarming his adversary, whose\nknife fell on the rock at their feet; and from this moment it became a\nfierce struggle who should cast the other over the dizzy height into a\nneighboring cavern of the falls. Every successive struggle brought them\nnearer to the verge, where Duncan perceived the final and conquering\neffort must be made. Each of the combatants threw all his energies into\nthat effort, and the result was, that both tottered on the brink of the\nprecipice. Heyward felt the grasp of the other at his throat, and\nsaw the grim smile the savage gave, under the revengeful hope that he\nhurried his enemy to a fate similar to his own, as he felt his body\nslowly yielding to a resistless power, and the young man experienced the\npassing agony of such a moment in all its horrors. At that instant of\nextreme danger, a dark hand and glancing knife appeared before him; the\nIndian released his hold, as the blood flowed freely from around the\nsevered tendons of the wrist; and while Duncan was drawn backward by the\nsaving hand of Uncas, his charmed eyes still were riveted on the\nfierce and disappointed countenance of his foe, who fell sullenly and\ndisappointed down the irrecoverable precipice.\n\n\"To cover! to cover!\" cried Hawkeye, who just then had despatched the\nenemy; \"to cover, for your lives! the work is but half ended!\"\n\nThe young Mohican gave a shout of triumph, and followed by Duncan, he\nglided up the acclivity they had descended to the combat, and sought the\nfriendly shelter of the rocks and shrubs.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 8\n\n     \"They linger yet,\n     Avengers of their native land.\"--Gray\n\nThe warning call of the scout was not uttered without occasion. During\nthe occurrence of the deadly encounter just related, the roar of the\nfalls was unbroken by any human sound whatever. It would seem that\ninterest in the result had kept the natives on the opposite shores in\nbreathless suspense, while the quick evolutions and swift changes in\nthe positions of the combatants effectually prevented a fire that might\nprove dangerous alike to friend and enemy. But the moment the struggle\nwas decided, a yell arose as fierce and savage as wild and revengeful\npassions could throw into the air. It was followed by the swift flashes\nof the rifles, which sent their leaden messengers across the rock in\nvolleys, as though the assailants would pour out their impotent fury on\nthe insensible scene of the fatal contest.\n\nA steady, though deliberate return was made from the rifle of\nChingachgook, who had maintained his post throughout the fray with\nunmoved resolution. When the triumphant shout of Uncas was borne to his\nears, the gratified father raised his voice in a single responsive cry,\nafter which his busy piece alone proved that he still guarded his pass\nwith unwearied diligence. In this manner many minutes flew by with the\nswiftness of thought; the rifles of the assailants speaking, at times,\nin rattling volleys, and at others in occasional, scattering shots.\nThough the rock, the trees, and the shrubs, were cut and torn in a\nhundred places around the besieged, their cover was so close, and so\nrigidly maintained, that, as yet, David had been the only sufferer in\ntheir little band.\n\n\"Let them burn their powder,\" said the deliberate scout, while bullet\nafter bullet whizzed by the place where he securely lay; \"there will be\na fine gathering of lead when it is over, and I fancy the imps will tire\nof the sport afore these old stones cry out for mercy! Uncas, boy, you\nwaste the kernels by overcharging; and a kicking rifle never carries a\ntrue bullet. I told you to take that loping miscreant under the line\nof white point; now, if your bullet went a hair's breadth it went two\ninches above it. The life lies low in a Mingo, and humanity teaches us\nto make a quick end to the sarpents.\"\n\nA quiet smile lighted the haughty features of the young Mohican,\nbetraying his knowledge of the English language as well as of the\nother's meaning; but he suffered it to pass away without vindication of\nreply.\n\n\"I cannot permit you to accuse Uncas of want of judgment or of skill,\"\nsaid Duncan; \"he saved my life in the coolest and readiest manner, and\nhe has made a friend who never will require to be reminded of the debt\nhe owes.\"\n\nUncas partly raised his body, and offered his hand to the grasp of\nHeyward. During this act of friendship, the two young men exchanged\nlooks of intelligence which caused Duncan to forget the character and\ncondition of his wild associate. In the meanwhile, Hawkeye, who looked\non this burst of youthful feeling with a cool but kind regard made the\nfollowing reply:\n\n\"Life is an obligation which friends often owe each other in the\nwilderness. I dare say I may have served Uncas some such turn myself\nbefore now; and I very well remember that he has stood between me\nand death five different times; three times from the Mingoes, once in\ncrossing Horican, and--\"\n\n\"That bullet was better aimed than common!\" exclaimed Duncan,\ninvoluntarily shrinking from a shot which struck the rock at his side\nwith a smart rebound.\n\nHawkeye laid his hand on the shapeless metal, and shook his head, as he\nexamined it, saying, \"Falling lead is never flattened, had it come from\nthe clouds this might have happened.\"\n\nBut the rifle of Uncas was deliberately raised toward the heavens,\ndirecting the eyes of his companions to a point, where the mystery was\nimmediately explained. A ragged oak grew on the right bank of the river,\nnearly opposite to their position, which, seeking the freedom of the\nopen space, had inclined so far forward that its upper branches overhung\nthat arm of the stream which flowed nearest to its own shore. Among the\ntopmost leaves, which scantily concealed the gnarled and stunted limbs,\na savage was nestled, partly concealed by the trunk of the tree, and\npartly exposed, as though looking down upon them to ascertain the effect\nproduced by his treacherous aim.\n\n\"These devils will scale heaven to circumvent us to our ruin,\" said\nHawkeye; \"keep him in play, boy, until I can bring 'killdeer' to bear,\nwhen we will try his metal on each side of the tree at once.\"\n\nUncas delayed his fire until the scout uttered the word.\n\nThe rifles flashed, the leaves and bark of the oak flew into the air,\nand were scattered by the wind, but the Indian answered their assault by\na taunting laugh, sending down upon them another bullet in return, that\nstruck the cap of Hawkeye from his head. Once more the savage yells\nburst out of the woods, and the leaden hail whistled above the heads of\nthe besieged, as if to confine them to a place where they might become\neasy victims to the enterprise of the warrior who had mounted the tree.\n\n\"This must be looked to,\" said the scout, glancing about him with\nan anxious eye. \"Uncas, call up your father; we have need of all our\nwe'pons to bring the cunning varmint from his roost.\"\n\nThe signal was instantly given; and, before Hawkeye had reloaded his\nrifle, they were joined by Chingachgook. When his son pointed out to the\nexperienced warrior the situation of their dangerous enemy, the\nusual exclamatory \"hugh\" burst from his lips; after which, no further\nexpression of surprise or alarm was suffered to escape him. Hawkeye and\nthe Mohicans conversed earnestly together in Delaware for a few moments,\nwhen each quietly took his post, in order to execute the plan they had\nspeedily devised.\n\nThe warrior in the oak had maintained a quick, though ineffectual fire,\nfrom the moment of his discovery. But his aim was interrupted by the\nvigilance of his enemies, whose rifles instantaneously bore on any\npart of his person that was left exposed. Still his bullets fell in the\ncenter of the crouching party. The clothes of Heyward, which rendered\nhim peculiarly conspicuous, were repeatedly cut, and once blood was\ndrawn from a slight wound in his arm.\n\nAt length, emboldened by the long and patient watchfulness of his\nenemies, the Huron attempted a better and more fatal aim. The quick eyes\nof the Mohicans caught the dark line of his lower limbs incautiously\nexposed through the thin foliage, a few inches from the trunk of the\ntree. Their rifles made a common report, when, sinking on his wounded\nlimb, part of the body of the savage came into view. Swift as thought,\nHawkeye seized the advantage, and discharged his fatal weapon into the\ntop of the oak. The leaves were unusually agitated; the dangerous rifle\nfell from its commanding elevation, and after a few moments of vain\nstruggling, the form of the savage was seen swinging in the wind,\nwhile he still grasped a ragged and naked branch of the tree with hands\nclenched in desperation.\n\n\"Give him, in pity, give him the contents of another rifle,\" cried\nDuncan, turning away his eyes in horror from the spectacle of a fellow\ncreature in such awful jeopardy.\n\n\"Not a karnel!\" exclaimed the obdurate Hawkeye; \"his death is certain,\nand we have no powder to spare, for Indian fights sometimes last for\ndays; 'tis their scalps or ours! and God, who made us, has put into our\nnatures the craving to keep the skin on the head.\"\n\nAgainst this stern and unyielding morality, supported as it was by such\nvisible policy, there was no appeal. From that moment the yells in the\nforest once more ceased, the fire was suffered to decline, and all\neyes, those of friends as well as enemies, became fixed on the hopeless\ncondition of the wretch who was dangling between heaven and earth.\nThe body yielded to the currents of air, and though no murmur or groan\nescaped the victim, there were instants when he grimly faced his foes,\nand the anguish of cold despair might be traced, through the intervening\ndistance, in possession of his swarthy lineaments. Three several times\nthe scout raised his piece in mercy, and as often, prudence getting the\nbetter of his intention, it was again silently lowered. At length one\nhand of the Huron lost its hold, and dropped exhausted to his side. A\ndesperate and fruitless struggle to recover the branch succeeded, and\nthen the savage was seen for a fleeting instant, grasping wildly at\nthe empty air. The lightning is not quicker than was the flame from the\nrifle of Hawkeye; the limbs of the victim trembled and contracted, the\nhead fell to the bosom, and the body parted the foaming waters like\nlead, when the element closed above it, in its ceaseless velocity, and\nevery vestige of the unhappy Huron was lost forever.\n\nNo shout of triumph succeeded this important advantage, but even the\nMohicans gazed at each other in silent horror. A single yell burst\nfrom the woods, and all was again still. Hawkeye, who alone appeared to\nreason on the occasion, shook his head at his own momentary weakness,\neven uttering his self-disapprobation aloud.\n\n\"'Twas the last charge in my horn and the last bullet in my pouch, and\n'twas the act of a boy!\" he said; \"what mattered it whether he struck\nthe rock living or dead! feeling would soon be over. Uncas, lad, go down\nto the canoe, and bring up the big horn; it is all the powder we have\nleft, and we shall need it to the last grain, or I am ignorant of the\nMingo nature.\"\n\nThe young Mohican complied, leaving the scout turning over the\nuseless contents of his pouch, and shaking the empty horn with renewed\ndiscontent. From this unsatisfactory examination, however, he was soon\ncalled by a loud and piercing exclamation from Uncas, that sounded,\neven to the unpracticed ears of Duncan, as the signal of some new and\nunexpected calamity. Every thought filled with apprehension for the\nprevious treasure he had concealed in the cavern, the young man started\nto his feet, totally regardless of the hazard he incurred by such an\nexposure. As if actuated by a common impulse, his movement was imitated\nby his companions, and, together they rushed down the pass to the\nfriendly chasm, with a rapidity that rendered the scattering fire of\ntheir enemies perfectly harmless. The unwonted cry had brought the\nsisters, together with the wounded David, from their place of refuge;\nand the whole party, at a single glance, was made acquainted with the\nnature of the disaster that had disturbed even the practiced stoicism of\ntheir youthful Indian protector.\n\nAt a short distance from the rock, their little bark was to be seen\nfloating across the eddy, toward the swift current of the river, in a\nmanner which proved that its course was directed by some hidden agent.\nThe instant this unwelcome sight caught the eye of the scout, his rifle\nwas leveled as by instinct, but the barrel gave no answer to the bright\nsparks of the flint.\n\n\"'Tis too late, 'tis too late!\" Hawkeye exclaimed, dropping the useless\npiece in bitter disappointment; \"the miscreant has struck the rapid; and\nhad we powder, it could hardly send the lead swifter than he now goes!\"\n\nThe adventurous Huron raised his head above the shelter of the canoe,\nand, while it glided swiftly down the stream, he waved his hand, and\ngave forth the shout, which was the known signal of success. His cry was\nanswered by a yell and a laugh from the woods, as tauntingly exulting\nas if fifty demons were uttering their blasphemies at the fall of some\nChristian soul.\n\n\"Well may you laugh, ye children of the devil!\" said the scout, seating\nhimself on a projection of the rock, and suffering his gun to fall\nneglected at his feet, \"for the three quickest and truest rifles in\nthese woods are no better than so many stalks of mullein, or the last\nyear's horns of a buck!\"\n\n\"What is to be done?\" demanded Duncan, losing the first feeling of\ndisappointment in a more manly desire for exertion; \"what will become of\nus?\"\n\nHawkeye made no other reply than by passing his finger around the crown\nof his head, in a manner so significant, that none who witnessed the\naction could mistake its meaning.\n\n\"Surely, surely, our case is not so desperate!\" exclaimed the youth;\n\"the Hurons are not here; we may make good the caverns, we may oppose\ntheir landing.\"\n\n\"With what?\" coolly demanded the scout. \"The arrows of Uncas, or such\ntears as women shed! No, no; you are young, and rich, and have friends,\nand at such an age I know it is hard to die! But,\" glancing his eyes at\nthe Mohicans, \"let us remember we are men without a cross, and let us\nteach these natives of the forest that white blood can run as freely as\nred, when the appointed hour is come.\"\n\nDuncan turned quickly in the direction indicated by the other's eyes,\nand read a confirmation of his worst apprehensions in the conduct of the\nIndians. Chingachgook, placing himself in a dignified posture on another\nfragment of the rock, had already laid aside his knife and tomahawk, and\nwas in the act of taking the eagle's plume from his head, and smoothing\nthe solitary tuft of hair in readiness to perform its last and revolting\noffice. His countenance was composed, though thoughtful, while his dark,\ngleaming eyes were gradually losing the fierceness of the combat in\nan expression better suited to the change he expected momentarily to\nundergo.\n\n\"Our case is not, cannot be so hopeless!\" said Duncan; \"even at this\nvery moment succor may be at hand. I see no enemies! They have sickened\nof a struggle in which they risk so much with so little prospect of\ngain!\"\n\n\"It may be a minute, or it may be an hour, afore the wily sarpents steal\nupon us, and it is quite in natur' for them to be lying within hearing\nat this very moment,\" said Hawkeye; \"but come they will, and in such\na fashion as will leave us nothing to hope! Chingachgook\"--he spoke in\nDelaware--\"my brother, we have fought our last battle together, and the\nMaquas will triumph in the death of the sage man of the Mohicans, and of\nthe pale face, whose eyes can make night as day, and level the clouds to\nthe mists of the springs!\"\n\n\"Let the Mingo women go weep over the slain!\" returned the Indian,\nwith characteristic pride and unmoved firmness; \"the Great Snake of the\nMohicans has coiled himself in their wigwams, and has poisoned their\ntriumph with the wailings of children, whose fathers have not returned!\nEleven warriors lie hid from the graves of their tribes since the snows\nhave melted, and none will tell where to find them when the tongue of\nChingachgook shall be silent! Let them draw the sharpest knife, and\nwhirl the swiftest tomahawk, for their bitterest enemy is in their\nhands. Uncas, topmost branch of a noble trunk, call on the cowards to\nhasten, or their hearts will soften, and they will change to women!\"\n\n\"They look among the fishes for their dead!\" returned the low, soft\nvoice of the youthful chieftain; \"the Hurons float with the slimy eels!\nThey drop from the oaks like fruit that is ready to be eaten! and the\nDelawares laugh!\"\n\n\"Ay, ay,\" muttered the scout, who had listened to this peculiar burst\nof the natives with deep attention; \"they have warmed their Indian\nfeelings, and they'll soon provoke the Maquas to give them a speedy end.\nAs for me, who am of the whole blood of the whites, it is befitting that\nI should die as becomes my color, with no words of scoffing in my mouth,\nand without bitterness at the heart!\"\n\n\"Why die at all!\" said Cora, advancing from the place where natural\nhorror had, until this moment, held her riveted to the rock; \"the path\nis open on every side; fly, then, to the woods, and call on God for\nsuccor. Go, brave men, we owe you too much already; let us no longer\ninvolve you in our hapless fortunes!\"\n\n\"You but little know the craft of the Iroquois, lady, if you judge they\nhave left the path open to the woods!\" returned Hawkeye, who, however,\nimmediately added in his simplicity, \"the down stream current, it is\ncertain, might soon sweep us beyond the reach of their rifles or the\nsound of their voices.\"\n\n\"Then try the river. Why linger to add to the number of the victims of\nour merciless enemies?\"\n\n\"Why,\" repeated the scout, looking about him proudly; \"because it is\nbetter for a man to die at peace with himself than to live haunted by an\nevil conscience! What answer could we give Munro, when he asked us where\nand how we left his children?\"\n\n\"Go to him, and say that you left them with a message to hasten to\ntheir aid,\" returned Cora, advancing nigher to the scout in her generous\nardor; \"that the Hurons bear them into the northern wilds, but that\nby vigilance and speed they may yet be rescued; and if, after all, it\nshould please heaven that his assistance come too late, bear to him,\"\nshe continued, her voice gradually lowering, until it seemed nearly\nchoked, \"the love, the blessings, the final prayers of his daughters,\nand bid him not mourn their early fate, but to look forward with humble\nconfidence to the Christian's goal to meet his children.\" The hard,\nweather-beaten features of the scout began to work, and when she had\nended, he dropped his chin to his hand, like a man musing profoundly on\nthe nature of the proposal.\n\n\"There is reason in her words!\" at length broke from his compressed\nand trembling lips; \"ay, and they bear the spirit of Christianity; what\nmight be right and proper in a red-skin, may be sinful in a man who\nhas not even a cross in blood to plead for his ignorance. Chingachgook!\nUncas! hear you the talk of the dark-eyed woman?\"\n\nHe now spoke in Delaware to his companions, and his address, though calm\nand deliberate, seemed very decided. The elder Mohican heard with deep\ngravity, and appeared to ponder on his words, as though he felt the\nimportance of their import. After a moment of hesitation, he waved his\nhand in assent, and uttered the English word \"Good!\" with the peculiar\nemphasis of his people. Then, replacing his knife and tomahawk in his\ngirdle, the warrior moved silently to the edge of the rock which was\nmost concealed from the banks of the river. Here he paused a moment,\npointed significantly to the woods below, and saying a few words in his\nown language, as if indicating his intended route, he dropped into the\nwater, and sank from before the eyes of the witnesses of his movements.\n\nThe scout delayed his departure to speak to the generous girl, whose\nbreathing became lighter as she saw the success of her remonstrance.\n\n\"Wisdom is sometimes given to the young, as well as to the old,\" he\nsaid; \"and what you have spoken is wise, not to call it by a better\nword. If you are led into the woods, that is such of you as may be\nspared for awhile, break the twigs on the bushes as you pass, and make\nthe marks of your trail as broad as you can, when, if mortal eyes can\nsee them, depend on having a friend who will follow to the ends of the\n'arth afore he desarts you.\"\n\nHe gave Cora an affectionate shake of the hand, lifted his rifle,\nand after regarding it a moment with melancholy solicitude, laid it\ncarefully aside, and descended to the place where Chingachgook had just\ndisappeared. For an instant he hung suspended by the rock, and looking\nabout him, with a countenance of peculiar care, he added bitterly, \"Had\nthe powder held out, this disgrace could never have befallen!\" then,\nloosening his hold, the water closed above his head, and he also became\nlost to view.\n\nAll eyes now were turned on Uncas, who stood leaning against the ragged\nrock, in immovable composure. After waiting a short time, Cora pointed\ndown the river, and said:\n\n\"Your friends have not been seen, and are now, most probably, in safety.\nIs it not time for you to follow?\"\n\n\"Uncas will stay,\" the young Mohican calmly answered in English.\n\n\"To increase the horror of our capture, and to diminish the chances of\nour release! Go, generous young man,\" Cora continued, lowering her\neyes under the gaze of the Mohican, and perhaps, with an intuitive\nconsciousness of her power; \"go to my father, as I have said, and be the\nmost confidential of my messengers. Tell him to trust you with the means\nto buy the freedom of his daughters. Go! 'tis my wish, 'tis my prayer,\nthat you will go!\"\n\nThe settled, calm look of the young chief changed to an expression of\ngloom, but he no longer hesitated. With a noiseless step he crossed the\nrock, and dropped into the troubled stream. Hardly a breath was drawn by\nthose he left behind, until they caught a glimpse of his head emerging\nfor air, far down the current, when he again sank, and was seen no more.\n\nThese sudden and apparently successful experiments had all taken place\nin a few minutes of that time which had now become so precious. After\na last look at Uncas, Cora turned and with a quivering lip, addressed\nherself to Heyward:\n\n\"I have heard of your boasted skill in the water, too, Duncan,\" she\nsaid; \"follow, then, the wise example set you by these simple and\nfaithful beings.\"\n\n\"Is such the faith that Cora Munro would exact from her protector?\" said\nthe young man, smiling mournfully, but with bitterness.\n\n\"This is not a time for idle subtleties and false opinions,\" she\nanswered; \"but a moment when every duty should be equally considered. To\nus you can be of no further service here, but your precious life may be\nsaved for other and nearer friends.\"\n\nHe made no reply, though his eye fell wistfully on the beautiful form of\nAlice, who was clinging to his arm with the dependency of an infant.\n\n\"Consider,\" continued Cora, after a pause, during which she seemed\nto struggle with a pang even more acute than any that her fears had\nexcited, \"that the worst to us can be but death; a tribute that all must\npay at the good time of God's appointment.\"\n\n\"There are evils worse than death,\" said Duncan, speaking hoarsely, and\nas if fretful at her importunity, \"but which the presence of one who\nwould die in your behalf may avert.\"\n\nCora ceased her entreaties; and veiling her face in her shawl, drew the\nnearly insensible Alice after her into the deepest recess of the inner\ncavern.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 9\n\n     \"Be gay securely;\n     Dispel, my fair, with smiles, the tim'rous clouds,\n     That hang on thy clear brow.\"--Death of Agrippina\n\nThe sudden and almost magical change, from the stirring incidents of the\ncombat to the stillness that now reigned around him, acted on the heated\nimagination of Heyward like some exciting dream. While all the images\nand events he had witnessed remained deeply impressed on his memory, he\nfelt a difficulty in persuading him of their truth. Still ignorant of\nthe fate of those who had trusted to the aid of the swift current, he\nat first listened intently to any signal or sounds of alarm, which might\nannounce the good or evil fortune of their hazardous undertaking. His\nattention was, however, bestowed in vain; for with the disappearance of\nUncas, every sign of the adventurers had been lost, leaving him in total\nuncertainty of their fate.\n\nIn a moment of such painful doubt, Duncan did not hesitate to look\naround him, without consulting that protection from the rocks which just\nbefore had been so necessary to his safety. Every effort, however, to\ndetect the least evidence of the approach of their hidden enemies was as\nfruitless as the inquiry after his late companions. The wooded banks of\nthe river seemed again deserted by everything possessing animal life.\nThe uproar which had so lately echoed through the vaults of the forest\nwas gone, leaving the rush of the waters to swell and sink on the\ncurrents of the air, in the unmingled sweetness of nature. A fish-hawk,\nwhich, secure on the topmost branches of a dead pine, had been a distant\nspectator of the fray, now swooped from his high and ragged perch, and\nsoared, in wide sweeps, above his prey; while a jay, whose noisy voice\nhad been stilled by the hoarser cries of the savages, ventured again\nto open his discordant throat, as though once more in undisturbed\npossession of his wild domains. Duncan caught from these natural\naccompaniments of the solitary scene a glimmering of hope; and he began\nto rally his faculties to renewed exertions, with something like a\nreviving confidence of success.\n\n\"The Hurons are not to be seen,\" he said, addressing David, who had\nby no means recovered from the effects of the stunning blow he had\nreceived; \"let us conceal ourselves in the cavern, and trust the rest to\nProvidence.\"\n\n\"I remember to have united with two comely maidens, in lifting up\nour voices in praise and thanksgiving,\" returned the bewildered\nsinging-master; \"since which time I have been visited by a heavy\njudgment for my sins. I have been mocked with the likeness of sleep,\nwhile sounds of discord have rent my ears, such as might manifest the\nfullness of time, and that nature had forgotten her harmony.\"\n\n\"Poor fellow! thine own period was, in truth, near its accomplishment!\nBut arouse, and come with me; I will lead you where all other sounds but\nthose of your own psalmody shall be excluded.\"\n\n\"There is melody in the fall of the cataract, and the rushing of many\nwaters is sweet to the senses!\" said David, pressing his hand confusedly\non his brow. \"Is not the air yet filled with shrieks and cries, as\nthough the departed spirits of the damned--\"\n\n\"Not now, not now,\" interrupted the impatient Heyward, \"they have\nceased, and they who raised them, I trust in God, they are gone, too!\neverything but the water is still and at peace; in, then, where you may\ncreate those sounds you love so well to hear.\"\n\nDavid smiled sadly, though not without a momentary gleam of pleasure, at\nthis allusion to his beloved vocation. He no longer hesitated to be led\nto a spot which promised such unalloyed gratification to his wearied\nsenses; and leaning on the arm of his companion, he entered the narrow\nmouth of the cave. Duncan seized a pile of the sassafras, which he\ndrew before the passage, studiously concealing every appearance of an\naperture. Within this fragile barrier he arranged the blankets abandoned\nby the foresters, darkening the inner extremity of the cavern, while its\nouter received a chastened light from the narrow ravine, through which\none arm of the river rushed to form the junction with its sister branch\na few rods below.\n\n\"I like not the principle of the natives, which teaches them to submit\nwithout a struggle, in emergencies that appear desperate,\" he said,\nwhile busied in this employment; \"our own maxim, which says, 'while\nlife remains there is hope', is more consoling, and better suited to\na soldier's temperament. To you, Cora, I will urge no words of idle\nencouragement; your own fortitude and undisturbed reason will teach\nyou all that may become your sex; but cannot we dry the tears of that\ntrembling weeper on your bosom?\"\n\n\"I am calmer, Duncan,\" said Alice, raising herself from the arms of her\nsister, and forcing an appearance of composure through her tears; \"much\ncalmer, now. Surely, in this hidden spot we are safe, we are secret,\nfree from injury; we will hope everything from those generous men who\nhave risked so much already in our behalf.\"\n\n\"Now does our gentle Alice speak like a daughter of Munro!\" said\nHeyward, pausing to press her hand as he passed toward the outer\nentrance of the cavern. \"With two such examples of courage before him, a\nman would be ashamed to prove other than a hero.\" He then seated himself\nin the center of the cavern, grasping his remaining pistol with a hand\nconvulsively clenched, while his contracted and frowning eye announced\nthe sullen desperation of his purpose. \"The Hurons, if they come, may\nnot gain our position so easily as they think,\" he slowly muttered; and\npropping his head back against the rock, he seemed to await the result\nin patience, though his gaze was unceasingly bent on the open avenue to\ntheir place of retreat.\n\nWith the last sound of his voice, a deep, a long, and almost breathless\nsilence succeeded. The fresh air of the morning had penetrated the\nrecess, and its influence was gradually felt on the spirits of its\ninmates. As minute after minute passed by, leaving them in undisturbed\nsecurity, the insinuating feeling of hope was gradually gaining\npossession of every bosom, though each one felt reluctant to give\nutterance to expectations that the next moment might so fearfully\ndestroy.\n\nDavid alone formed an exception to these varying emotions. A gleam of\nlight from the opening crossed his wan countenance, and fell upon\nthe pages of the little volume, whose leaves he was again occupied in\nturning, as if searching for some song more fitted to their condition\nthan any that had yet met their eye. He was, most probably, acting all\nthis time under a confused recollection of the promised consolation of\nDuncan. At length, it would seem, his patient industry found its reward;\nfor, without explanation or apology, he pronounced aloud the words \"Isle\nof Wight,\" drew a long, sweet sound from his pitch-pipe, and then ran\nthrough the preliminary modulations of the air whose name he had just\nmentioned, with the sweeter tones of his own musical voice.\n\n\"May not this prove dangerous?\" asked Cora, glancing her dark eye at\nMajor Heyward.\n\n\"Poor fellow! his voice is too feeble to be heard above the din of the\nfalls,\" was the answer; \"beside, the cavern will prove his friend. Let\nhim indulge his passions since it may be done without hazard.\"\n\n\"Isle of Wight!\" repeated David, looking about him with that dignity\nwith which he had long been wont to silence the whispering echoes of his\nschool; \"'tis a brave tune, and set to solemn words! let it be sung with\nmeet respect!\"\n\nAfter allowing a moment of stillness to enforce his discipline, the\nvoice of the singer was heard, in low, murmuring syllables, gradually\nstealing on the ear, until it filled the narrow vault with sounds\nrendered trebly thrilling by the feeble and tremulous utterance produced\nby his debility. The melody, which no weakness could destroy, gradually\nwrought its sweet influence on the senses of those who heard it. It even\nprevailed over the miserable travesty of the song of David which the\nsinger had selected from a volume of similar effusions, and caused the\nsense to be forgotten in the insinuating harmony of the sounds. Alice\nunconsciously dried her tears, and bent her melting eyes on the pallid\nfeatures of Gamut, with an expression of chastened delight that she\nneither affected or wished to conceal. Cora bestowed an approving smile\non the pious efforts of the namesake of the Jewish prince, and Heyward\nsoon turned his steady, stern look from the outlet of the cavern, to\nfasten it, with a milder character, on the face of David, or to meet the\nwandering beams which at moments strayed from the humid eyes of Alice.\nThe open sympathy of the listeners stirred the spirit of the votary of\nmusic, whose voice regained its richness and volume, without losing that\ntouching softness which proved its secret charm. Exerting his renovated\npowers to their utmost, he was yet filling the arches of the cave\nwith long and full tones, when a yell burst into the air without, that\ninstantly stilled his pious strains, choking his voice suddenly, as\nthough his heart had literally bounded into the passage of his throat.\n\n\"We are lost!\" exclaimed Alice, throwing herself into the arms of Cora.\n\n\"Not yet, not yet,\" returned the agitated but undaunted Heyward: \"the\nsound came from the center of the island, and it has been produced by\nthe sight of their dead companions. We are not yet discovered, and there\nis still hope.\"\n\nFaint and almost despairing as was the prospect of escape, the words of\nDuncan were not thrown away, for it awakened the powers of the sisters\nin such a manner that they awaited the results in silence. A second yell\nsoon followed the first, when a rush of voices was heard pouring down\nthe island, from its upper to its lower extremity, until they reached\nthe naked rock above the caverns, where, after a shout of savage\ntriumph, the air continued full of horrible cries and screams, such\nas man alone can utter, and he only when in a state of the fiercest\nbarbarity.\n\nThe sounds quickly spread around them in every direction. Some called to\ntheir fellows from the water's edge, and were answered from the heights\nabove. Cries were heard in the startling vicinity of the chasm between\nthe two caves, which mingled with hoarser yells that arose out of the\nabyss of the deep ravine. In short, so rapidly had the savage sounds\ndiffused themselves over the barren rock, that it was not difficult\nfor the anxious listeners to imagine they could be heard beneath, as in\ntruth they were above on every side of them.\n\nIn the midst of this tumult, a triumphant yell was raised within a few\nyards of the hidden entrance to the cave. Heyward abandoned every hope,\nwith the belief it was the signal that they were discovered. Again the\nimpression passed away, as he heard the voices collect near the spot\nwhere the white man had so reluctantly abandoned his rifle. Amid the\njargon of Indian dialects that he now plainly heard, it was easy to\ndistinguish not only words, but sentences, in the patois of the Canadas.\nA burst of voices had shouted simultaneously, \"La Longue Carabine!\"\ncausing the opposite woods to re-echo with a name which, Heyward well\nremembered, had been given by his enemies to a celebrated hunter and\nscout of the English camp, and who, he now learned for the first time,\nhad been his late companion.\n\n\"La Longue Carabine! La Longue Carabine!\" passed from mouth to mouth,\nuntil the whole band appeared to be collected around a trophy which\nwould seem to announce the death of its formidable owner. After a\nvociferous consultation, which was, at times, deafened by bursts of\nsavage joy, they again separated, filling the air with the name of a\nfoe, whose body, Heywood could collect from their expressions, they\nhoped to find concealed in some crevice of the island.\n\n\"Now,\" he whispered to the trembling sisters, \"now is the moment of\nuncertainty! if our place of retreat escape this scrutiny, we are\nstill safe! In every event, we are assured, by what has fallen from our\nenemies, that our friends have escaped, and in two short hours we may\nlook for succor from Webb.\"\n\nThere were now a few minutes of fearful stillness, during which Heyward\nwell knew that the savages conducted their search with greater vigilance\nand method. More than once he could distinguish their footsteps, as\nthey brushed the sassafras, causing the faded leaves to rustle, and the\nbranches to snap. At length, the pile yielded a little, a corner of a\nblanket fell, and a faint ray of light gleamed into the inner part of\nthe cave. Cora folded Alice to her bosom in agony, and Duncan sprang\nto his feet. A shout was at that moment heard, as if issuing from the\ncenter of the rock, announcing that the neighboring cavern had at\nlength been entered. In a minute, the number and loudness of the voices\nindicated that the whole party was collected in and around that secret\nplace.\n\nAs the inner passages to the two caves were so close to each other,\nDuncan, believing that escape was no longer possible, passed David and\nthe sisters, to place himself between the latter and the first onset of\nthe terrible meeting. Grown desperate by his situation, he drew nigh\nthe slight barrier which separated him only by a few feet from his\nrelentless pursuers, and placing his face to the casual opening, he even\nlooked out with a sort of desperate indifference, on their movements.\n\nWithin reach of his arm was the brawny shoulder of a gigantic Indian,\nwhose deep and authoritative voice appeared to give directions to the\nproceedings of his fellows. Beyond him again, Duncan could look into the\nvault opposite, which was filled with savages, upturning and rifling the\nhumble furniture of the scout. The wound of David had dyed the leaves\nof sassafras with a color that the native well knew as anticipating the\nseason. Over this sign of their success, they sent up a howl, like an\nopening from so many hounds who had recovered a lost trail. After this\nyell of victory, they tore up the fragrant bed of the cavern, and bore\nthe branches into the chasm, scattering the boughs, as if they suspected\nthem of concealing the person of the man they had so long hated and\nfeared. One fierce and wild-looking warrior approached the chief,\nbearing a load of the brush, and pointing exultingly to the deep red\nstains with which it was sprinkled, uttered his joy in Indian yells,\nwhose meaning Heyward was only enabled to comprehend by the frequent\nrepetition of the name \"La Longue Carabine!\" When his triumph had\nceased, he cast the brush on the slight heap Duncan had made before\nthe entrance of the second cavern, and closed the view. His example was\nfollowed by others, who, as they drew the branches from the cave of the\nscout, threw them into one pile, adding, unconsciously, to the security\nof those they sought. The very slightness of the defense was its chief\nmerit, for no one thought of disturbing a mass of brush, which all\nof them believed, in that moment of hurry and confusion, had been\naccidentally raised by the hands of their own party.\n\nAs the blankets yielded before the outward pressure, and the branches\nsettled in the fissure of the rock by their own weight, forming a\ncompact body, Duncan once more breathed freely. With a light step and\nlighter heart, he returned to the center of the cave, and took the\nplace he had left, where he could command a view of the opening next the\nriver. While he was in the act of making this movement, the Indians, as\nif changing their purpose by a common impulse, broke away from the chasm\nin a body, and were heard rushing up the island again, toward the point\nwhence they had originally descended. Here another wailing cry betrayed\nthat they were again collected around the bodies of their dead comrades.\n\nDuncan now ventured to look at his companions; for, during the most\ncritical moments of their danger, he had been apprehensive that the\nanxiety of his countenance might communicate some additional alarm to\nthose who were so little able to sustain it.\n\n\"They are gone, Cora!\" he whispered; \"Alice, they are returned whence\nthey came, and we are saved! To Heaven, that has alone delivered us from\nthe grasp of so merciless an enemy, be all the praise!\"\n\n\"Then to Heaven will I return my thanks!\" exclaimed the younger sister,\nrising from the encircling arm of Cora, and casting herself with\nenthusiastic gratitude on the naked rock; \"to that Heaven who has spared\nthe tears of a gray-headed father; has saved the lives of those I so\nmuch love.\"\n\nBoth Heyward and the more temperate Cora witnessed the act of\ninvoluntary emotion with powerful sympathy, the former secretly\nbelieving that piety had never worn a form so lovely as it had now\nassumed in the youthful person of Alice. Her eyes were radiant with the\nglow of grateful feelings; the flush of her beauty was again seated on\nher cheeks, and her whole soul seemed ready and anxious to pour out its\nthanksgivings through the medium of her eloquent features. But when her\nlips moved, the words they should have uttered appeared frozen by some\nnew and sudden chill. Her bloom gave place to the paleness of death;\nher soft and melting eyes grew hard, and seemed contracting with horror;\nwhile those hands, which she had raised, clasped in each other, toward\nheaven, dropped in horizontal lines before her, the fingers pointed\nforward in convulsed motion. Heyward turned the instant she gave a\ndirection to his suspicions, and peering just above the ledge which\nformed the threshold of the open outlet of the cavern, he beheld the\nmalignant, fierce and savage features of Le Renard Subtil.\n\nIn that moment of surprise, the self-possession of Heyward did not\ndesert him. He observed by the vacant expression of the Indian's\ncountenance, that his eye, accustomed to the open air had not yet\nbeen able to penetrate the dusky light which pervaded the depth of the\ncavern. He had even thought of retreating beyond a curvature in the\nnatural wall, which might still conceal him and his companions, when by\nthe sudden gleam of intelligence that shot across the features of the\nsavage, he saw it was too late, and that they were betrayed.\n\nThe look of exultation and brutal triumph which announced this terrible\ntruth was irresistibly irritating. Forgetful of everything but the\nimpulses of his hot blood, Duncan leveled his pistol and fired. The\nreport of the weapon made the cavern bellow like an eruption from a\nvolcano; and when the smoke it vomited had been driven away before the\ncurrent of air which issued from the ravine the place so lately occupied\nby the features of his treacherous guide was vacant. Rushing to the\noutlet, Heyward caught a glimpse of his dark figure stealing around a\nlow and narrow ledge, which soon hid him entirely from sight.\n\nAmong the savages a frightful stillness succeeded the explosion, which\nhad just been heard bursting from the bowels of the rock. But when\nLe Renard raised his voice in a long and intelligible whoop, it was\nanswered by a spontaneous yell from the mouth of every Indian within\nhearing of the sound.\n\nThe clamorous noises again rushed down the island; and before Duncan\nhad time to recover from the shock, his feeble barrier of brush was\nscattered to the winds, the cavern was entered at both its extremities,\nand he and his companions were dragged from their shelter and borne into\nthe day, where they stood surrounded by the whole band of the triumphant\nHurons.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 10\n\n     \"I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn\n     As much as we this night have overwatched!\"\n     --Midsummer Night's Dream\n\nThe instant the shock of this sudden misfortune had abated, Duncan began\nto make his observations on the appearance and proceedings of their\ncaptors. Contrary to the usages of the natives in the wantonness of\ntheir success they had respected, not only the persons of the trembling\nsisters, but his own. The rich ornaments of his military attire had\nindeed been repeatedly handled by different individuals of the tribes\nwith eyes expressing a savage longing to possess the baubles; but\nbefore the customary violence could be resorted to, a mandate in the\nauthoritative voice of the large warrior, already mentioned, stayed the\nuplifted hand, and convinced Heyward that they were to be reserved for\nsome object of particular moment.\n\nWhile, however, these manifestations of weakness were exhibited by the\nyoung and vain of the party, the more experienced warriors continued\ntheir search throughout both caverns, with an activity that denoted they\nwere far from being satisfied with those fruits of their conquest which\nhad already been brought to light. Unable to discover any new victim,\nthese diligent workers of vengeance soon approached their male\nprisoners, pronouncing the name \"La Longue Carabine,\" with a fierceness\nthat could not be easily mistaken. Duncan affected not to comprehend\nthe meaning of their repeated and violent interrogatories, while his\ncompanion was spared the effort of a similar deception by his ignorance\nof French. Wearied at length by their importunities, and apprehensive\nof irritating his captors by too stubborn a silence, the former\nlooked about him in quest of Magua, who might interpret his answers\nto questions which were at each moment becoming more earnest and\nthreatening.\n\nThe conduct of this savage had formed a solitary exception to that of\nall his fellows. While the others were busily occupied in seeking\nto gratify their childish passion for finery, by plundering even\nthe miserable effects of the scout, or had been searching with such\nbloodthirsty vengeance in their looks for their absent owner, Le Renard\nhad stood at a little distance from the prisoners, with a demeanor so\nquiet and satisfied, as to betray that he had already effected the grand\npurpose of his treachery. When the eyes of Heyward first met those of\nhis recent guide, he turned them away in horror at the sinister though\ncalm look he encountered. Conquering his disgust, however, he was able,\nwith an averted face, to address his successful enemy.\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil is too much of a warrior,\" said the reluctant Heyward,\n\"to refuse telling an unarmed man what his conquerors say.\"\n\n\"They ask for the hunter who knows the paths through the woods,\"\nreturned Magua, in his broken English, laying his hand, at the same\ntime, with a ferocious smile, on the bundle of leaves with which a wound\non his own shoulder was bandaged. \"'La Longue Carabine'! His rifle\nis good, and his eye never shut; but, like the short gun of the white\nchief, it is nothing against the life of Le Subtil.\"\n\n\"Le Renard is too brave to remember the hurts received in war, or the\nhands that gave them.\"\n\n\"Was it war, when the tired Indian rested at the sugartree to taste his\ncorn! who filled the bushes with creeping enemies! who drew the knife,\nwhose tongue was peace, while his heart was colored with blood! Did\nMagua say that the hatchet was out of the ground, and that his hand had\ndug it up?\"\n\nAs Duncan dared not retort upon his accuser by reminding him of his own\npremeditated treachery, and disdained to deprecate his resentment by any\nwords of apology, he remained silent. Magua seemed also content to\nrest the controversy as well as all further communication there, for he\nresumed the leaning attitude against the rock from which, in momentary\nenergy, he had arisen. But the cry of \"La Longue Carabine\" was renewed\nthe instant the impatient savages perceived that the short dialogue was\nended.\n\n\"You hear,\" said Magua, with stubborn indifference: \"the red Hurons call\nfor the life of 'The Long Rifle', or they will have the blood of him\nthat keep him hid!\"\n\n\"He is gone--escaped; he is far beyond their reach.\"\n\nRenard smiled with cold contempt, as he answered:\n\n\"When the white man dies, he thinks he is at peace; but the red men know\nhow to torture even the ghosts of their enemies. Where is his body? Let\nthe Hurons see his scalp.\"\n\n\"He is not dead, but escaped.\"\n\nMagua shook his head incredulously.\n\n\"Is he a bird, to spread his wings; or is he a fish, to swim without\nair! The white chief read in his books, and he believes the Hurons are\nfools!\"\n\n\"Though no fish, 'The Long Rifle' can swim. He floated down the stream\nwhen the powder was all burned, and when the eyes of the Hurons were\nbehind a cloud.\"\n\n\"And why did the white chief stay?\" demanded the still incredulous\nIndian. \"Is he a stone that goes to the bottom, or does the scalp burn\nhis head?\"\n\n\"That I am not stone, your dead comrade, who fell into the falls, might\nanswer, were the life still in him,\" said the provoked young man, using,\nin his anger, that boastful language which was most likely to excite the\nadmiration of an Indian. \"The white man thinks none but cowards desert\ntheir women.\"\n\nMagua muttered a few words, inaudibly, between his teeth, before he\ncontinued, aloud:\n\n\"Can the Delawares swim, too, as well as crawl in the bushes? Where is\n'Le Gros Serpent'?\"\n\nDuncan, who perceived by the use of these Canadian appellations, that\nhis late companions were much better known to his enemies than to\nhimself, answered, reluctantly: \"He also is gone down with the water.\"\n\n\"'Le Cerf Agile' is not here?\"\n\n\"I know not whom you call 'The Nimble Deer',\" said Duncan gladly\nprofiting by any excuse to create delay.\n\n\"Uncas,\" returned Magua, pronouncing the Delaware name with even greater\ndifficulty than he spoke his English words. \"'Bounding Elk' is what the\nwhite man says, when he calls to the young Mohican.\"\n\n\"Here is some confusion in names between us, Le Renard,\" said Duncan,\nhoping to provoke a discussion. \"Daim is the French for deer, and cerf\nfor stag; elan is the true term, when one would speak of an elk.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" muttered the Indian, in his native tongue; \"the pale faces are\nprattling women! they have two words for each thing, while a red-skin\nwill make the sound of his voice speak to him.\" Then, changing his\nlanguage, he continued, adhering to the imperfect nomenclature of his\nprovincial instructors. \"The deer is swift, but weak; the elk is swift,\nbut strong; and the son of 'Le Serpent' is 'Le Cerf Agile.' Has he\nleaped the river to the woods?\"\n\n\"If you mean the younger Delaware, he, too, has gone down with the\nwater.\"\n\nAs there was nothing improbable to an Indian in the manner of the\nescape, Magua admitted the truth of what he had heard, with a readiness\nthat afforded additional evidence how little he would prize such\nworthless captives. With his companions, however, the feeling was\nmanifestly different.\n\nThe Hurons had awaited the result of this short dialogue with\ncharacteristic patience, and with a silence that increased until there\nwas a general stillness in the band. When Heyward ceased to speak, they\nturned their eyes, as one man, on Magua, demanding, in this expressive\nmanner, an explanation of what had been said. Their interpreter pointed\nto the river, and made them acquainted with the result, as much by\nthe action as by the few words he uttered. When the fact was generally\nunderstood, the savages raised a frightful yell, which declared the\nextent of their disappointment. Some ran furiously to the water's\nedge, beating the air with frantic gestures, while others spat upon the\nelement, to resent the supposed treason it had committed against\ntheir acknowledged rights as conquerors. A few, and they not the least\npowerful and terrific of the band, threw lowering looks, in which the\nfiercest passion was only tempered by habitual self-command, at those\ncaptives who still remained in their power, while one or two even gave\nvent to their malignant feelings by the most menacing gestures, against\nwhich neither the sex nor the beauty of the sisters was any protection.\nThe young soldier made a desperate but fruitless effort to spring to the\nside of Alice, when he saw the dark hand of a savage twisted in the rich\ntresses which were flowing in volumes over her shoulders, while a knife\nwas passed around the head from which they fell, as if to denote the\nhorrid manner in which it was about to be robbed of its beautiful\nornament. But his hands were bound; and at the first movement he made,\nhe felt the grasp of the powerful Indian who directed the band, pressing\nhis shoulder like a vise. Immediately conscious how unavailing any\nstruggle against such an overwhelming force must prove, he submitted\nto his fate, encouraging his gentle companions by a few low and tender\nassurances, that the natives seldom failed to threaten more than they\nperformed.\n\nBut while Duncan resorted to these words of consolation to quiet the\napprehensions of the sisters, he was not so weak as to deceive himself.\nHe well knew that the authority of an Indian chief was so little\nconventional, that it was oftener maintained by physical superiority\nthan by any moral supremacy he might possess. The danger was, therefore,\nmagnified exactly in proportion to the number of the savage spirits\nby which they were surrounded. The most positive mandate from him who\nseemed the acknowledged leader, was liable to be violated at each moment\nby any rash hand that might choose to sacrifice a victim to the manes of\nsome dead friend or relative. While, therefore, he sustained an outward\nappearance of calmness and fortitude, his heart leaped into his throat,\nwhenever any of their fierce captors drew nearer than common to the\nhelpless sisters, or fastened one of their sullen, wandering looks on\nthose fragile forms which were so little able to resist the slightest\nassault.\n\nHis apprehensions were, however, greatly relieved, when he saw that\nthe leader had summoned his warriors to himself in counsel. Their\ndeliberations were short, and it would seem, by the silence of most of\nthe party, the decision unanimous. By the frequency with which the few\nspeakers pointed in the direction of the encampment of Webb, it was\napparent they dreaded the approach of danger from that quarter. This\nconsideration probably hastened their determination, and quickened the\nsubsequent movements.\n\nDuring his short conference, Heyward, finding a respite from his gravest\nfears, had leisure to admire the cautious manner in which the Hurons had\nmade their approaches, even after hostilities had ceased.\n\nIt has already been stated that the upper half of the island was a naked\nrock, and destitute of any other defenses than a few scattered logs of\ndriftwood. They had selected this point to make their descent, having\nborne the canoe through the wood around the cataract for that purpose.\nPlacing their arms in the little vessel a dozen men clinging to its\nsides had trusted themselves to the direction of the canoe, which was\ncontrolled by two of the most skillful warriors, in attitudes that\nenabled them to command a view of the dangerous passage. Favored by this\narrangement, they touched the head of the island at that point which had\nproved so fatal to their first adventurers, but with the advantages of\nsuperior numbers, and the possession of firearms. That such had been the\nmanner of their descent was rendered quite apparent to Duncan; for they\nnow bore the light bark from the upper end of the rock, and placed it\nin the water, near the mouth of the outer cavern. As soon as this change\nwas made, the leader made signs to the prisoners to descend and enter.\n\nAs resistance was impossible, and remonstrance useless, Heyward set the\nexample of submission, by leading the way into the canoe, where he\nwas soon seated with the sisters and the still wondering David.\nNotwithstanding the Hurons were necessarily ignorant of the little\nchannels among the eddies and rapids of the stream, they knew the common\nsigns of such a navigation too well to commit any material blunder.\nWhen the pilot chosen for the task of guiding the canoe had taken his\nstation, the whole band plunged again into the river, the vessel glided\ndown the current, and in a few moments the captives found themselves on\nthe south bank of the stream, nearly opposite to the point where they\nhad struck it the preceding evening.\n\nHere was held another short but earnest consultation, during which the\nhorses, to whose panic their owners ascribed their heaviest misfortune,\nwere led from the cover of the woods, and brought to the sheltered spot.\nThe band now divided. The great chief, so often mentioned, mounting the\ncharger of Heyward, led the way directly across the river, followed by\nmost of his people, and disappeared in the woods, leaving the prisoners\nin charge of six savages, at whose head was Le Renard Subtil. Duncan\nwitnessed all their movements with renewed uneasiness.\n\nHe had been fond of believing, from the uncommon forbearance of the\nsavages, that he was reserved as a prisoner to be delivered to Montcalm.\nAs the thoughts of those who are in misery seldom slumber, and the\ninvention is never more lively than when it is stimulated by hope,\nhowever feeble and remote, he had even imagined that the parental\nfeelings of Munro were to be made instrumental in seducing him from his\nduty to the king. For though the French commander bore a high character\nfor courage and enterprise, he was also thought to be expert in those\npolitical practises which do not always respect the nicer obligations\nof morality, and which so generally disgraced the European diplomacy of\nthat period.\n\nAll those busy and ingenious speculations were now annihilated by the\nconduct of his captors. That portion of the band who had followed the\nhuge warrior took the route toward the foot of the Horican, and no other\nexpectation was left for himself and companions, than that they were to\nbe retained as hopeless captives by their savage conquerors. Anxious to\nknow the worst, and willing, in such an emergency, to try the potency of\ngold he overcame his reluctance to speak to Magua. Addressing himself\nto his former guide, who had now assumed the authority and manner of one\nwho was to direct the future movements of the party, he said, in tones\nas friendly and confiding as he could assume:\n\n\"I would speak to Magua, what is fit only for so great a chief to hear.\"\n\nThe Indian turned his eyes on the young soldier scornfully, as he\nanswered:\n\n\"Speak; trees have no ears.\"\n\n\"But the red Hurons are not deaf; and counsel that is fit for the great\nmen of a nation would make the young warriors drunk. If Magua will not\nlisten, the officer of the king knows how to be silent.\"\n\nThe savage spoke carelessly to his comrades, who were busied, after\ntheir awkward manner, in preparing the horses for the reception of the\nsisters, and moved a little to one side, whither by a cautious gesture\nhe induced Heyward to follow.\n\n\"Now, speak,\" he said; \"if the words are such as Magua should hear.\"\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil has proved himself worthy of the honorable name given\nto him by his Canada fathers,\" commenced Heyward; \"I see his wisdom,\nand all that he has done for us, and shall remember it when the hour to\nreward him arrives. Yes! Renard has proved that he is not only a great\nchief in council, but one who knows how to deceive his enemies!\"\n\n\"What has Renard done?\" coldly demanded the Indian.\n\n\"What! has he not seen that the woods were filled with outlying parties\nof the enemies, and that the serpent could not steal through them\nwithout being seen? Then, did he not lose his path to blind the eyes of\nthe Hurons? Did he not pretend to go back to his tribe, who had treated\nhim ill, and driven him from their wigwams like a dog? And when he saw\nwhat he wished to do, did we not aid him, by making a false face, that\nthe Hurons might think the white man believed that his friend was his\nenemy? Is not all this true? And when Le Subtil had shut the eyes and\nstopped the ears of his nation by his wisdom, did they not forget that\nthey had once done him wrong, and forced him to flee to the Mohawks?\nAnd did they not leave him on the south side of the river, with their\nprisoners, while they have gone foolishly on the north? Does not Renard\nmean to turn like a fox on his footsteps, and to carry to the rich and\ngray-headed Scotchman his daughters? Yes, Magua, I see it all, and I\nhave already been thinking how so much wisdom and honesty should be\nrepaid. First, the chief of William Henry will give as a great chief\nshould for such a service. The medal* of Magua will no longer be of tin,\nbut of beaten gold; his horn will run over with powder; dollars will be\nas plenty in his pouch as pebbles on the shore of Horican; and the deer\nwill lick his hand, for they will know it to be vain to fly from\nthe rifle he will carry! As for myself, I know not how to exceed the\ngratitude of the Scotchman, but I--yes, I will--\"\n\n     * It has long been a practice with the whites to conciliate\n     the important men of the Indians by presenting medals, which\n     are worn in the place of their own rude ornaments. Those\n     given by the English generally bear the impression of the\n     reigning king, and those given by the Americans that of the\n     president.\n\n\"What will the young chief, who comes from toward the sun, give?\"\ndemanded the Huron, observing that Heyward hesitated in his desire to\nend the enumeration of benefits with that which might form the climax of\nan Indian's wishes.\n\n\"He will make the fire-water from the islands in the salt lake flow\nbefore the wigwam of Magua, until the heart of the Indian shall be\nlighter than the feathers of the humming-bird, and his breath sweeter\nthan the wild honeysuckle.\"\n\nLe Renard had listened gravely as Heyward slowly proceeded in this\nsubtle speech. When the young man mentioned the artifice he supposed\nthe Indian to have practised on his own nation, the countenance of\nthe listener was veiled in an expression of cautious gravity. At the\nallusion to the injury which Duncan affected to believe had driven\nthe Huron from his native tribe, a gleam of such ungovernable ferocity\nflashed from the other's eyes, as induced the adventurous speaker to\nbelieve he had struck the proper chord. And by the time he reached\nthe part where he so artfully blended the thirst of vengeance with the\ndesire of gain, he had, at least, obtained a command of the deepest\nattention of the savage. The question put by Le Renard had been calm,\nand with all the dignity of an Indian; but it was quite apparent, by the\nthoughtful expression of the listener's countenance, that the answer was\nmost cunningly devised. The Huron mused a few moments, and then laying\nhis hand on the rude bandages of his wounded shoulder, he said, with\nsome energy:\n\n\"Do friends make such marks?\"\n\n\"Would 'La Longue Carbine' cut one so slight on an enemy?\"\n\n\"Do the Delawares crawl upon those they love like snakes, twisting\nthemselves to strike?\"\n\n\"Would 'Le Gros Serpent' have been heard by the ears of one he wished to\nbe deaf?\"\n\n\"Does the white chief burn his powder in the faces of his brothers?\"\n\n\"Does he ever miss his aim, when seriously bent to kill?\" returned\nDuncan, smiling with well acted sincerity.\n\nAnother long and deliberate pause succeeded these sententious questions\nand ready replies. Duncan saw that the Indian hesitated. In order to\ncomplete his victory, he was in the act of recommencing the enumeration\nof the rewards, when Magua made an expressive gesture and said:\n\n\"Enough; Le Renard is a wise chief, and what he does will be seen.\nGo, and keep the mouth shut. When Magua speaks, it will be the time to\nanswer.\"\n\nHeyward, perceiving that the eyes of his companion were warily fastened\non the rest of the band, fell back immediately, in order to avoid\nthe appearance of any suspicious confederacy with their leader.\nMagua approached the horses, and affected to be well pleased with the\ndiligence and ingenuity of his comrades. He then signed to Heyward to\nassist the sisters into the saddles, for he seldom deigned to use the\nEnglish tongue, unless urged by some motive of more than usual moment.\n\nThere was no longer any plausible pretext for delay; and Duncan was\nobliged, however reluctantly, to comply. As he performed this office, he\nwhispered his reviving hopes in the ears of the trembling females, who,\nthrough dread of encountering the savage countenances of their captors,\nseldom raised their eyes from the ground. The mare of David had been\ntaken with the followers of the large chief; in consequence, its owner,\nas well as Duncan, was compelled to journey on foot. The latter did not,\nhowever, so much regret this circumstance, as it might enable him to\nretard the speed of the party; for he still turned his longing looks in\nthe direction of Fort Edward, in the vain expectation of catching some\nsound from that quarter of the forest, which might denote the approach\nof succor. When all were prepared, Magua made the signal to proceed,\nadvancing in front to lead the party in person. Next followed David, who\nwas gradually coming to a true sense of his condition, as the effects of\nthe wound became less and less apparent. The sisters rode in his rear,\nwith Heyward at their side, while the Indians flanked the party, and\nbrought up the close of the march, with a caution that seemed never to\ntire.\n\nIn this manner they proceeded in uninterrupted silence, except when\nHeyward addressed some solitary word of comfort to the females, or David\ngave vent to the moanings of his spirit, in piteous exclamations, which\nhe intended should express the humility of resignation. Their direction\nlay toward the south, and in a course nearly opposite to the road to\nWilliam Henry. Notwithstanding this apparent adherence in Magua to the\noriginal determination of his conquerors, Heyward could not believe\nhis tempting bait was so soon forgotten; and he knew the windings of an\nIndian's path too well to suppose that its apparent course led directly\nto its object, when artifice was at all necessary. Mile after mile was,\nhowever, passed through the boundless woods, in this painful manner,\nwithout any prospect of a termination to their journey. Heyward watched\nthe sun, as he darted his meridian rays through the branches of the\ntrees, and pined for the moment when the policy of Magua should change\ntheir route to one more favorable to his hopes. Sometimes he fancied the\nwary savage, despairing of passing the army of Montcalm in safety,\nwas holding his way toward a well-known border settlement, where a\ndistinguished officer of the crown, and a favored friend of the Six\nNations, held his large possessions, as well as his usual residence. To\nbe delivered into the hands of Sir William Johnson was far preferable\nto being led into the wilds of Canada; but in order to effect even the\nformer, it would be necessary to traverse the forest for many weary\nleagues, each step of which was carrying him further from the scene of\nthe war, and, consequently, from the post, not only of honor, but of\nduty.\n\nCora alone remembered the parting injunctions of the scout, and whenever\nan opportunity offered, she stretched forth her arm to bend aside the\ntwigs that met her hands. But the vigilance of the Indians rendered this\nact of precaution both difficult and dangerous. She was often defeated\nin her purpose, by encountering their watchful eyes, when it became\nnecessary to feign an alarm she did not feel, and occupy the limb by\nsome gesture of feminine apprehension. Once, and once only, was she\ncompletely successful; when she broke down the bough of a large sumach,\nand by a sudden thought, let her glove fall at the same instant. This\nsign, intended for those that might follow, was observed by one of her\nconductors, who restored the glove, broke the remaining branches of the\nbush in such a manner that it appeared to proceed from the struggling of\nsome beast in its branches, and then laid his hand on his tomahawk,\nwith a look so significant, that it put an effectual end to these stolen\nmemorials of their passage.\n\nAs there were horses, to leave the prints of their footsteps, in both\nbands of the Indians, this interruption cut off any probable hopes of\nassistance being conveyed through the means of their trail.\n\nHeyward would have ventured a remonstrance had there been anything\nencouraging in the gloomy reserve of Magua. But the savage, during all\nthis time, seldom turned to look at his followers, and never spoke. With\nthe sun for his only guide, or aided by such blind marks as are only\nknown to the sagacity of a native, he held his way along the barrens\nof pine, through occasional little fertile vales, across brooks and\nrivulets, and over undulating hills, with the accuracy of instinct,\nand nearly with the directness of a bird. He never seemed to hesitate.\nWhether the path was hardly distinguishable, whether it disappeared, or\nwhether it lay beaten and plain before him, made no sensible difference\nin his speed or certainty. It seemed as if fatigue could not affect him.\nWhenever the eyes of the wearied travelers rose from the decayed leaves\nover which they trod, his dark form was to be seen glancing among the\nstems of the trees in front, his head immovably fastened in a forward\nposition, with the light plume on his crest fluttering in a current of\nair, made solely by the swiftness of his own motion.\n\nBut all this diligence and speed were not without an object. After\ncrossing a low vale, through which a gushing brook meandered, he\nsuddenly ascended a hill, so steep and difficult of ascent, that the\nsisters were compelled to alight in order to follow. When the summit was\ngained, they found themselves on a level spot, but thinly covered with\ntrees, under one of which Magua had thrown his dark form, as if willing\nand ready to seek that rest which was so much needed by the whole party.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 11\n\n     \"Cursed be my tribe If I forgive him.\"\n     --Shylock\n\nThe Indian had selected for this desirable purpose one of those steep,\npyramidal hills, which bear a strong resemblance to artificial mounds,\nand which so frequently occur in the valleys of America. The one in\nquestion was high and precipitous; its top flattened, as usual; but with\none of its sides more than ordinarily irregular. It possessed no other\napparent advantage for a resting place, than in its elevation and form,\nwhich might render defense easy, and surprise nearly impossible. As\nHeyward, however, no longer expected that rescue which time and distance\nnow rendered so improbable, he regarded these little peculiarities with\nan eye devoid of interest, devoting himself entirely to the comfort and\ncondolence of his feebler companions. The Narragansetts were suffered\nto browse on the branches of the trees and shrubs that were thinly\nscattered over the summit of the hill, while the remains of their\nprovisions were spread under the shade of a beech, that stretched its\nhorizontal limbs like a canopy above them.\n\nNotwithstanding the swiftness of their flight, one of the Indians had\nfound an opportunity to strike a straggling fawn with an arrow, and\nhad borne the more preferable fragments of the victim, patiently on his\nshoulders, to the stopping place. Without any aid from the science of\ncookery, he was immediately employed, in common with his fellows, in\ngorging himself with this digestible sustenance. Magua alone sat apart,\nwithout participating in the revolting meal, and apparently buried in\nthe deepest thought.\n\nThis abstinence, so remarkable in an Indian, when he possessed the means\nof satisfying hunger, at length attracted the notice of Heyward. The\nyoung man willingly believed that the Huron deliberated on the most\neligible manner of eluding the vigilance of his associates. With a view\nto assist his plans by any suggestion of his own, and to strengthen the\ntemptation, he left the beech, and straggled, as if without an object,\nto the spot where Le Renard was seated.\n\n\"Has not Magua kept the sun in his face long enough to escape all danger\nfrom the Canadians?\" he asked, as though no longer doubtful of the\ngood intelligence established between them; \"and will not the chief\nof William Henry be better pleased to see his daughters before another\nnight may have hardened his heart to their loss, to make him less\nliberal in his reward?\"\n\n\"Do the pale faces love their children less in the morning than at\nnight?\" asked the Indian, coldly.\n\n\"By no means,\" returned Heyward, anxious to recall his error, if he had\nmade one; \"the white man may, and does often, forget the burial place of\nhis fathers; he sometimes ceases to remember those he should love, and\nhas promised to cherish; but the affection of a parent for his child is\nnever permitted to die.\"\n\n\"And is the heart of the white-headed chief soft, and will he think of\nthe babes that his squaws have given him? He is hard on his warriors and\nhis eyes are made of stone?\"\n\n\"He is severe to the idle and wicked, but to the sober and deserving\nhe is a leader, both just and humane. I have known many fond and tender\nparents, but never have I seen a man whose heart was softer toward his\nchild. You have seen the gray-head in front of his warriors, Magua; but\nI have seen his eyes swimming in water, when he spoke of those children\nwho are now in your power!\"\n\nHeyward paused, for he knew not how to construe the remarkable\nexpression that gleamed across the swarthy features of the attentive\nIndian. At first it seemed as if the remembrance of the promised reward\ngrew vivid in his mind, while he listened to the sources of parental\nfeeling which were to assure its possession; but, as Duncan proceeded,\nthe expression of joy became so fiercely malignant that it was\nimpossible not to apprehend it proceeded from some passion more sinister\nthan avarice.\n\n\"Go,\" said the Huron, suppressing the alarming exhibition in an\ninstant, in a death-like calmness of countenance; \"go to the dark-haired\ndaughter, and say, 'Magua waits to speak' The father will remember what\nthe child promises.\"\n\nDuncan, who interpreted this speech to express a wish for some\nadditional pledge that the promised gifts should not be withheld, slowly\nand reluctantly repaired to the place where the sisters were now resting\nfrom their fatigue, to communicate its purport to Cora.\n\n\"You understand the nature of an Indian's wishes,\" he concluded, as he\nled her toward the place where she was expected, \"and must be prodigal\nof your offers of powder and blankets. Ardent spirits are, however, the\nmost prized by such as he; nor would it be amiss to add some boon\nfrom your own hand, with that grace you so well know how to practise.\nRemember, Cora, that on your presence of mind and ingenuity, even your\nlife, as well as that of Alice, may in some measure depend.\"\n\n\"Heyward, and yours!\"\n\n\"Mine is of little moment; it is already sold to my king, and is a prize\nto be seized by any enemy who may possess the power. I have no father\nto expect me, and but few friends to lament a fate which I have courted\nwith the insatiable longings of youth after distinction. But hush! we\napproach the Indian. Magua, the lady with whom you wish to speak, is\nhere.\"\n\nThe Indian rose slowly from his seat, and stood for near a minute silent\nand motionless. He then signed with his hand for Heyward to retire,\nsaying, coldly:\n\n\"When the Huron talks to the women, his tribe shut their ears.\"\n\nDuncan, still lingering, as if refusing to comply, Cora said, with a\ncalm smile:\n\n\"You hear, Heyward, and delicacy at least should urge you to retire. Go\nto Alice, and comfort her with our reviving prospects.\"\n\nShe waited until he had departed, and then turning to the native, with\nthe dignity of her sex in her voice and manner, she added: \"What would\nLe Renard say to the daughter of Munro?\"\n\n\"Listen,\" said the Indian, laying his hand firmly upon her arm, as if\nwilling to draw her utmost attention to his words; a movement that Cora\nas firmly but quietly repulsed, by extricating the limb from his grasp:\n\"Magua was born a chief and a warrior among the red Hurons of the lakes;\nhe saw the suns of twenty summers make the snows of twenty winters run\noff in the streams before he saw a pale face; and he was happy! Then\nhis Canada fathers came into the woods, and taught him to drink the\nfire-water, and he became a rascal. The Hurons drove him from the graves\nof his fathers, as they would chase the hunted buffalo. He ran down the\nshores of the lakes, and followed their outlet to the 'city of cannon'\nThere he hunted and fished, till the people chased him again through the\nwoods into the arms of his enemies. The chief, who was born a Huron, was\nat last a warrior among the Mohawks!\"\n\n\"Something like this I had heard before,\" said Cora, observing that he\npaused to suppress those passions which began to burn with too bright a\nflame, as he recalled the recollection of his supposed injuries.\n\n\"Was it the fault of Le Renard that his head was not made of rock? Who\ngave him the fire-water? who made him a villain? 'Twas the pale faces,\nthe people of your own color.\"\n\n\"And am I answerable that thoughtless and unprincipled men exist, whose\nshades of countenance may resemble mine?\" Cora calmly demanded of the\nexcited savage.\n\n\"No; Magua is a man, and not a fool; such as you never open their lips\nto the burning stream: the Great Spirit has given you wisdom!\"\n\n\"What, then, have I do to, or say, in the matter of your misfortunes,\nnot to say of your errors?\"\n\n\"Listen,\" repeated the Indian, resuming his earnest attitude; \"when\nhis English and French fathers dug up the hatchet, Le Renard struck the\nwar-post of the Mohawks, and went out against his own nation. The pale\nfaces have driven the red-skins from their hunting grounds, and now when\nthey fight, a white man leads the way. The old chief at Horican, your\nfather, was the great captain of our war-party. He said to the Mohawks\ndo this, and do that, and he was minded. He made a law, that if an\nIndian swallowed the fire-water, and came into the cloth wigwams of his\nwarriors, it should not be forgotten. Magua foolishly opened his\nmouth, and the hot liquor led him into the cabin of Munro. What did the\ngray-head? let his daughter say.\"\n\n\"He forgot not his words, and did justice, by punishing the offender,\"\nsaid the undaunted daughter.\n\n\"Justice!\" repeated the Indian, casting an oblique glance of the most\nferocious expression at her unyielding countenance; \"is it justice to\nmake evil and then punish for it? Magua was not himself; it was the\nfire-water that spoke and acted for him! but Munro did believe it. The\nHuron chief was tied up before all the pale-faced warriors, and whipped\nlike a dog.\"\n\nCora remained silent, for she knew not how to palliate this imprudent\nseverity on the part of her father in a manner to suit the comprehension\nof an Indian.\n\n\"See!\" continued Magua, tearing aside the slight calico that very\nimperfectly concealed his painted breast; \"here are scars given by\nknives and bullets--of these a warrior may boast before his nation; but\nthe gray-head has left marks on the back of the Huron chief that he must\nhide like a squaw, under this painted cloth of the whites.\"\n\n\"I had thought,\" resumed Cora, \"that an Indian warrior was patient, and\nthat his spirit felt not and knew not the pain his body suffered.\"\n\n\"When the Chippewas tied Magua to the stake, and cut this gash,\" said\nthe other, laying his finger on a deep scar, \"the Huron laughed in their\nfaces, and told them, Women struck so light! His spirit was then in the\nclouds! But when he felt the blows of Munro, his spirit lay under the\nbirch. The spirit of a Huron is never drunk; it remembers forever!\"\n\n\"But it may be appeased. If my father has done you this injustice, show\nhim how an Indian can forgive an injury, and take back his daughters.\nYou have heard from Major Heyward--\"\n\nMagua shook his head, forbidding the repetition of offers he so much\ndespised.\n\n\"What would you have?\" continued Cora, after a most painful pause,\nwhile the conviction forced itself on her mind that the too sanguine and\ngenerous Duncan had been cruelly deceived by the cunning of the savage.\n\n\"What a Huron loves--good for good; bad for bad!\"\n\n\"You would, then, revenge the injury inflicted by Munro on his helpless\ndaughters. Would it not be more like a man to go before his face, and\ntake the satisfaction of a warrior?\"\n\n\"The arms of the pale faces are long, and their knives sharp!\" returned\nthe savage, with a malignant laugh: \"why should Le Renard go among the\nmuskets of his warriors, when he holds the spirit of the gray-head in\nhis hand?\"\n\n\"Name your intention, Magua,\" said Cora, struggling with herself to\nspeak with steady calmness. \"Is it to lead us prisoners to the woods, or\ndo you contemplate even some greater evil? Is there no reward, no means\nof palliating the injury, and of softening your heart? At least, release\nmy gentle sister, and pour out all your malice on me. Purchase wealth\nby her safety and satisfy your revenge with a single victim. The loss\nof both his daughters might bring the aged man to his grave, and where\nwould then be the satisfaction of Le Renard?\"\n\n\"Listen,\" said the Indian again. \"The light eyes can go back to the\nHorican, and tell the old chief what has been done, if the dark-haired\nwoman will swear by the Great Spirit of her fathers to tell no lie.\"\n\n\"What must I promise?\" demanded Cora, still maintaining a secret\nascendancy over the fierce native by the collected and feminine dignity\nof her presence.\n\n\"When Magua left his people his wife was given to another chief; he has\nnow made friends with the Hurons, and will go back to the graves of his\ntribe, on the shores of the great lake. Let the daughter of the English\nchief follow, and live in his wigwam forever.\"\n\nHowever revolting a proposal of such a character might prove to\nCora, she retained, notwithstanding her powerful disgust, sufficient\nself-command to reply, without betraying the weakness.\n\n\"And what pleasure would Magua find in sharing his cabin with a wife he\ndid not love; one who would be of a nation and color different from his\nown? It would be better to take the gold of Munro, and buy the heart of\nsome Huron maid with his gifts.\"\n\nThe Indian made no reply for near a minute, but bent his fierce looks\non the countenance of Cora, in such wavering glances, that her eyes\nsank with shame, under an impression that for the first time they had\nencountered an expression that no chaste female might endure. While she\nwas shrinking within herself, in dread of having her ears wounded by\nsome proposal still more shocking than the last, the voice of Magua\nanswered, in its tones of deepest malignancy:\n\n\"When the blows scorched the back of the Huron, he would know where to\nfind a woman to feel the smart. The daughter of Munro would draw his\nwater, hoe his corn, and cook his venison. The body of the gray-head\nwould sleep among his cannon, but his heart would lie within reach of\nthe knife of Le Subtil.\"\n\n\"Monster! well dost thou deserve thy treacherous name,\" cried Cora, in\nan ungovernable burst of filial indignation. \"None but a fiend could\nmeditate such a vengeance. But thou overratest thy power! You shall find\nit is, in truth, the heart of Munro you hold, and that it will defy your\nutmost malice!\"\n\nThe Indian answered this bold defiance by a ghastly smile, that showed\nan unaltered purpose, while he motioned her away, as if to close the\nconference forever. Cora, already regretting her precipitation, was\nobliged to comply, for Magua instantly left the spot, and approached his\ngluttonous comrades. Heyward flew to the side of the agitated female,\nand demanded the result of a dialogue that he had watched at a distance\nwith so much interest. But, unwilling to alarm the fears of Alice, she\nevaded a direct reply, betraying only by her anxious looks fastened on\nthe slightest movements of her captors. To the reiterated and earnest\nquestions of her sister concerning their probable destination, she\nmade no other answer than by pointing toward the dark group, with an\nagitation she could not control, and murmuring as she folded Alice to\nher bosom.\n\n\"There, there; read our fortunes in their faces; we shall see; we shall\nsee!\"\n\nThe action, and the choked utterance of Cora, spoke more impressively\nthan any words, and quickly drew the attention of her companions on that\nspot where her own was riveted with an intenseness that nothing but the\nimportance of the stake could create.\n\nWhen Magua reached the cluster of lolling savages, who, gorged with\ntheir disgusting meal, lay stretched on the earth in brutal indulgence,\nhe commenced speaking with the dignity of an Indian chief. The first\nsyllables he uttered had the effect to cause his listeners to raise\nthemselves in attitudes of respectful attention. As the Huron used\nhis native language, the prisoners, notwithstanding the caution of the\nnatives had kept them within the swing of their tomahawks, could only\nconjecture the substance of his harangue from the nature of those\nsignificant gestures with which an Indian always illustrates his\neloquence.\n\nAt first, the language, as well as the action of Magua, appeared calm\nand deliberative. When he had succeeded in sufficiently awakening\nthe attention of his comrades, Heyward fancied, by his pointing so\nfrequently toward the direction of the great lakes, that he spoke of the\nland of their fathers, and of their distant tribe. Frequent indications\nof applause escaped the listeners, who, as they uttered the expressive\n\"Hugh!\" looked at each other in commendation of the speaker. Le Renard\nwas too skillful to neglect his advantage. He now spoke of the long and\npainful route by which they had left those spacious grounds and happy\nvillages, to come and battle against the enemies of their Canadian\nfathers. He enumerated the warriors of the party; their several merits;\ntheir frequent services to the nation; their wounds, and the number of\nthe scalps they had taken. Whenever he alluded to any present (and the\nsubtle Indian neglected none), the dark countenance of the flattered\nindividual gleamed with exultation, nor did he even hesitate to assert\nthe truth of the words, by gestures of applause and confirmation. Then\nthe voice of the speaker fell, and lost the loud, animated tones of\ntriumph with which he had enumerated their deeds of success and victory.\nHe described the cataract of Glenn's; the impregnable position of its\nrocky island, with its caverns and its numerous rapids and whirlpools;\nhe named the name of \"La Longue Carabine,\" and paused until the forest\nbeneath them had sent up the last echo of a loud and long yell, with\nwhich the hated appellation was received. He pointed toward the youthful\nmilitary captive, and described the death of a favorite warrior, who\nhad been precipitated into the deep ravine by his hand. He not only\nmentioned the fate of him who, hanging between heaven and earth, had\npresented such a spectacle of horror to the whole band, but he acted\nanew the terrors of his situation, his resolution and his death, on the\nbranches of a sapling; and, finally, he rapidly recounted the manner\nin which each of their friends had fallen, never failing to touch upon\ntheir courage, and their most acknowledged virtues. When this recital of\nevents was ended, his voice once more changed, and became plaintive and\neven musical, in its low guttural sounds. He now spoke of the wives and\nchildren of the slain; their destitution; their misery, both physical\nand moral; their distance; and, at last, of their unavenged wrongs. Then\nsuddenly lifting his voice to a pitch of terrific energy, he concluded\nby demanding:\n\n\"Are the Hurons dogs to bear this? Who shall say to the wife of Menowgua\nthat the fishes have his scalp, and that his nation have not taken\nrevenge! Who will dare meet the mother of Wassawattimie, that scornful\nwoman, with his hands clean! What shall be said to the old men when\nthey ask us for scalps, and we have not a hair from a white head to give\nthem! The women will point their fingers at us. There is a dark spot on\nthe names of the Hurons, and it must be hid in blood!\" His voice was no\nlonger audible in the burst of rage which now broke into the air, as\nif the wood, instead of containing so small a band, was filled with the\nnation. During the foregoing address the progress of the speaker was too\nplainly read by those most interested in his success through the medium\nof the countenances of the men he addressed. They had answered his\nmelancholy and mourning by sympathy and sorrow; his assertions, by\ngestures of confirmation; and his boasting, with the exultation of\nsavages. When he spoke of courage, their looks were firm and responsive;\nwhen he alluded to their injuries, their eyes kindled with fury; when\nhe mentioned the taunts of the women, they dropped their heads in shame;\nbut when he pointed out their means of vengeance, he struck a chord\nwhich never failed to thrill in the breast of an Indian. With the first\nintimation that it was within their reach, the whole band sprang upon\ntheir feet as one man; giving utterance to their rage in the most\nfrantic cries, they rushed upon their prisoners in a body with drawn\nknives and uplifted tomahawks. Heyward threw himself between the sisters\nand the foremost, whom he grappled with a desperate strength that for a\nmoment checked his violence. This unexpected resistance gave Magua time\nto interpose, and with rapid enunciation and animated gesture, he drew\nthe attention of the band again to himself. In that language he knew so\nwell how to assume, he diverted his comrades from their instant purpose,\nand invited them to prolong the misery of their victims. His proposal\nwas received with acclamations, and executed with the swiftness of\nthought.\n\nTwo powerful warriors cast themselves on Heyward, while another was\noccupied in securing the less active singing-master. Neither of the\ncaptives, however, submitted without a desperate, though fruitless,\nstruggle. Even David hurled his assailant to the earth; nor was Heyward\nsecured until the victory over his companion enabled the Indians to\ndirect their united force to that object. He was then bound and fastened\nto the body of the sapling, on whose branches Magua had acted the\npantomime of the falling Huron. When the young soldier regained his\nrecollection, he had the painful certainty before his eyes that a\ncommon fate was intended for the whole party. On his right was Cora in\na durance similar to his own, pale and agitated, but with an eye whose\nsteady look still read the proceedings of their enemies. On his left,\nthe withes which bound her to a pine, performed that office for Alice\nwhich her trembling limbs refused, and alone kept her fragile form from\nsinking. Her hands were clasped before her in prayer, but instead of\nlooking upward toward that power which alone could rescue them, her\nunconscious looks wandered to the countenance of Duncan with infantile\ndependency. David had contended, and the novelty of the circumstance\nheld him silent, in deliberation on the propriety of the unusual\noccurrence.\n\nThe vengeance of the Hurons had now taken a new direction, and they\nprepared to execute it with that barbarous ingenuity with which they\nwere familiarized by the practise of centuries. Some sought knots, to\nraise the blazing pile; one was riving the splinters of pine, in order\nto pierce the flesh of their captives with the burning fragments; and\nothers bent the tops of two saplings to the earth, in order to suspend\nHeyward by the arms between the recoiling branches. But the vengeance of\nMagua sought a deeper and more malignant enjoyment.\n\nWhile the less refined monsters of the band prepared, before the eyes of\nthose who were to suffer, these well-known and vulgar means of torture,\nhe approached Cora, and pointed out, with the most malign expression of\ncountenance, the speedy fate that awaited her:\n\n\"Ha!\" he added, \"what says the daughter of Munro? Her head is too good\nto find a pillow in the wigwam of Le Renard; will she like it better\nwhen it rolls about this hill a plaything for the wolves? Her bosom\ncannot nurse the children of a Huron; she will see it spit upon by\nIndians!\"\n\n\"What means the monster!\" demanded the astonished Heyward.\n\n\"Nothing!\" was the firm reply. \"He is a savage, a barbarous and ignorant\nsavage, and knows not what he does. Let us find leisure, with our dying\nbreath, to ask for him penitence and pardon.\"\n\n\"Pardon!\" echoed the fierce Huron, mistaking in his anger, the meaning\nof her words; \"the memory of an Indian is no longer than the arm of the\npale faces; his mercy shorter than their justice! Say; shall I send the\nyellow hair to her father, and will you follow Magua to the great lakes,\nto carry his water, and feed him with corn?\"\n\nCora beckoned him away, with an emotion of disgust she could not\ncontrol.\n\n\"Leave me,\" she said, with a solemnity that for a moment checked the\nbarbarity of the Indian; \"you mingle bitterness in my prayers; you stand\nbetween me and my God!\"\n\nThe slight impression produced on the savage was, however, soon\nforgotten, and he continued pointing, with taunting irony, toward Alice.\n\n\"Look! the child weeps! She is too young to die! Send her to Munro, to\ncomb his gray hairs, and keep life in the heart of the old man.\"\n\nCora could not resist the desire to look upon her youthful sister, in\nwhose eyes she met an imploring glance, that betrayed the longings of\nnature.\n\n\"What says he, dearest Cora?\" asked the trembling voice of Alice. \"Did\nhe speak of sending me to our father?\"\n\nFor many moments the elder sister looked upon the younger, with a\ncountenance that wavered with powerful and contending emotions.\nAt length she spoke, though her tones had lost their rich and calm\nfullness, in an expression of tenderness that seemed maternal.\n\n\"Alice,\" she said, \"the Huron offers us both life, nay, more than both;\nhe offers to restore Duncan, our invaluable Duncan, as well as you, to\nour friends--to our father--to our heart-stricken, childless father, if\nI will bow down this rebellious, stubborn pride of mine, and consent--\"\n\nHer voice became choked, and clasping her hands, she looked upward, as\nif seeking, in her agony, intelligence from a wisdom that was infinite.\n\n\"Say on,\" cried Alice; \"to what, dearest Cora? Oh! that the proffer were\nmade to me! to save you, to cheer our aged father, to restore Duncan,\nhow cheerfully could I die!\"\n\n\"Die!\" repeated Cora, with a calmer and firmer voice, \"that were easy!\nPerhaps the alternative may not be less so. He would have me,\" she\ncontinued, her accents sinking under a deep consciousness of the\ndegradation of the proposal, \"follow him to the wilderness; go to the\nhabitations of the Hurons; to remain there; in short, to become his\nwife! Speak, then, Alice; child of my affections! sister of my love! And\nyou, too, Major Heyward, aid my weak reason with your counsel. Is life\nto be purchased by such a sacrifice? Will you, Alice, receive it at my\nhands at such a price? And you, Duncan, guide me; control me between\nyou; for I am wholly yours!\"\n\n\"Would I!\" echoed the indignant and astonished youth. \"Cora! Cora! you\njest with our misery! Name not the horrid alternative again; the thought\nitself is worse than a thousand deaths.\"\n\n\"That such would be your answer, I well knew!\" exclaimed Cora, her\ncheeks flushing, and her dark eyes once more sparkling with the\nlingering emotions of a woman. \"What says my Alice? for her will I\nsubmit without another murmur.\"\n\nAlthough both Heyward and Cora listened with painful suspense and the\ndeepest attention, no sounds were heard in reply. It appeared as if the\ndelicate and sensitive form of Alice would shrink into itself, as she\nlistened to this proposal. Her arms had fallen lengthwise before her,\nthe fingers moving in slight convulsions; her head dropped upon her\nbosom, and her whole person seemed suspended against the tree, looking\nlike some beautiful emblem of the wounded delicacy of her sex, devoid of\nanimation and yet keenly conscious. In a few moments, however, her head\nbegan to move slowly, in a sign of deep, unconquerable disapprobation.\n\n\"No, no, no; better that we die as we have lived, together!\"\n\n\"Then die!\" shouted Magua, hurling his tomahawk with violence at the\nunresisting speaker, and gnashing his teeth with a rage that could no\nlonger be bridled at this sudden exhibition of firmness in the one he\nbelieved the weakest of the party. The axe cleaved the air in front of\nHeyward, and cutting some of the flowing ringlets of Alice, quivered\nin the tree above her head. The sight maddened Duncan to desperation.\nCollecting all his energies in one effort he snapped the twigs which\nbound him and rushed upon another savage, who was preparing, with loud\nyells and a more deliberate aim, to repeat the blow. They encountered,\ngrappled, and fell to the earth together. The naked body of his\nantagonist afforded Heyward no means of holding his adversary, who\nglided from his grasp, and rose again with one knee on his chest,\npressing him down with the weight of a giant. Duncan already saw the\nknife gleaming in the air, when a whistling sound swept past him, and\nwas rather accompanied than followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. He\nfelt his breast relieved from the load it had endured; he saw the savage\nexpression of his adversary's countenance change to a look of vacant\nwildness, when the Indian fell dead on the faded leaves by his side.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 12\n\n     \"Clo.--I am gone, sire,\n            And anon, sire, I'll be with you again.\"\n     --Twelfth Night\n\nThe Hurons stood aghast at this sudden visitation of death on one of\ntheir band. But as they regarded the fatal accuracy of an aim which had\ndared to immolate an enemy at so much hazard to a friend, the name\nof \"La Longue Carabine\" burst simultaneously from every lip, and was\nsucceeded by a wild and a sort of plaintive howl. The cry was answered\nby a loud shout from a little thicket, where the incautious party had\npiled their arms; and at the next moment, Hawkeye, too eager to load\nthe rifle he had regained, was seen advancing upon them, brandishing the\nclubbed weapon, and cutting the air with wide and powerful sweeps. Bold\nand rapid as was the progress of the scout, it was exceeded by that of\na light and vigorous form which, bounding past him, leaped, with\nincredible activity and daring, into the very center of the Hurons,\nwhere it stood, whirling a tomahawk, and flourishing a glittering knife,\nwith fearful menaces, in front of Cora. Quicker than the thoughts could\nfollow those unexpected and audacious movements, an image, armed in the\nemblematic panoply of death, glided before their eyes, and assumed a\nthreatening attitude at the other's side. The savage tormentors recoiled\nbefore these warlike intruders, and uttered, as they appeared in such\nquick succession, the often repeated and peculiar exclamations of\nsurprise, followed by the well-known and dreaded appellations of:\n\n\"Le Cerf Agile! Le Gros Serpent!\"\n\nBut the wary and vigilant leader of the Hurons was not so easily\ndisconcerted. Casting his keen eyes around the little plain, he\ncomprehended the nature of the assault at a glance, and encouraging his\nfollowers by his voice as well as by his example, he unsheathed his\nlong and dangerous knife, and rushed with a loud whoop upon the expected\nChingachgook. It was the signal for a general combat. Neither party had\nfirearms, and the contest was to be decided in the deadliest manner,\nhand to hand, with weapons of offense, and none of defense.\n\nUncas answered the whoop, and leaping on an enemy, with a single,\nwell-directed blow of his tomahawk, cleft him to the brain. Heyward\ntore the weapon of Magua from the sapling, and rushed eagerly toward\nthe fray. As the combatants were now equal in number, each singled an\nopponent from the adverse band. The rush and blows passed with the fury\nof a whirlwind, and the swiftness of lightning. Hawkeye soon got another\nenemy within reach of his arm, and with one sweep of his formidable\nweapon he beat down the slight and inartificial defenses of his\nantagonist, crushing him to the earth with the blow. Heyward ventured\nto hurl the tomahawk he had seized, too ardent to await the moment\nof closing. It struck the Indian he had selected on the forehead,\nand checked for an instant his onward rush. Encouraged by this slight\nadvantage, the impetuous young man continued his onset, and sprang upon\nhis enemy with naked hands. A single instant was enough to assure him\nof the rashness of the measure, for he immediately found himself fully\nengaged, with all his activity and courage, in endeavoring to ward the\ndesperate thrusts made with the knife of the Huron. Unable longer to\nfoil an enemy so alert and vigilant, he threw his arms about him, and\nsucceeded in pinning the limbs of the other to his side, with an iron\ngrasp, but one that was far too exhausting to himself to continue long.\nIn this extremity he heard a voice near him, shouting:\n\n\"Extarminate the varlets! no quarter to an accursed Mingo!\"\n\nAt the next moment, the breech of Hawkeye's rifle fell on the naked head\nof his adversary, whose muscles appeared to wither under the shock, as\nhe sank from the arms of Duncan, flexible and motionless.\n\nWhen Uncas had brained his first antagonist, he turned, like a hungry\nlion, to seek another. The fifth and only Huron disengaged at the first\nonset had paused a moment, and then seeing that all around him were\nemployed in the deadly strife, he had sought, with hellish vengeance,\nto complete the baffled work of revenge. Raising a shout of triumph, he\nsprang toward the defenseless Cora, sending his keen axe as the dreadful\nprecursor of his approach. The tomahawk grazed her shoulder, and cutting\nthe withes which bound her to the tree, left the maiden at liberty to\nfly. She eluded the grasp of the savage, and reckless of her own\nsafety, threw herself on the bosom of Alice, striving with convulsed\nand ill-directed fingers, to tear asunder the twigs which confined the\nperson of her sister. Any other than a monster would have relented at\nsuch an act of generous devotion to the best and purest affection; but\nthe breast of the Huron was a stranger to sympathy. Seizing Cora by the\nrich tresses which fell in confusion about her form, he tore her from\nher frantic hold, and bowed her down with brutal violence to her knees.\nThe savage drew the flowing curls through his hand, and raising them\non high with an outstretched arm, he passed the knife around the\nexquisitely molded head of his victim, with a taunting and exulting\nlaugh. But he purchased this moment of fierce gratification with the\nloss of the fatal opportunity. It was just then the sight caught the eye\nof Uncas. Bounding from his footsteps he appeared for an instant darting\nthrough the air and descending in a ball he fell on the chest of his\nenemy, driving him many yards from the spot, headlong and prostrate. The\nviolence of the exertion cast the young Mohican at his side. They arose\ntogether, fought, and bled, each in his turn. But the conflict was soon\ndecided; the tomahawk of Heyward and the rifle of Hawkeye descended\non the skull of the Huron, at the same moment that the knife of Uncas\nreached his heart.\n\nThe battle was now entirely terminated with the exception of the\nprotracted struggle between \"Le Renard Subtil\" and \"Le Gros Serpent.\"\nWell did these barbarous warriors prove that they deserved those\nsignificant names which had been bestowed for deeds in former wars.\nWhen they engaged, some little time was lost in eluding the quick and\nvigorous thrusts which had been aimed at their lives. Suddenly darting\non each other, they closed, and came to the earth, twisted together like\ntwining serpents, in pliant and subtle folds. At the moment when the\nvictors found themselves unoccupied, the spot where these experienced\nand desperate combatants lay could only be distinguished by a cloud of\ndust and leaves, which moved from the center of the little plain toward\nits boundary, as if raised by the passage of a whirlwind. Urged by the\ndifferent motives of filial affection, friendship and gratitude, Heyward\nand his companions rushed with one accord to the place, encircling the\nlittle canopy of dust which hung above the warriors. In vain did Uncas\ndart around the cloud, with a wish to strike his knife into the heart\nof his father's foe; the threatening rifle of Hawkeye was raised and\nsuspended in vain, while Duncan endeavored to seize the limbs of the\nHuron with hands that appeared to have lost their power. Covered as they\nwere with dust and blood, the swift evolutions of the combatants seemed\nto incorporate their bodies into one. The death-like looking figure of\nthe Mohican, and the dark form of the Huron, gleamed before their eyes\nin such quick and confused succession, that the friends of the former\nknew not where to plant the succoring blow. It is true there were short\nand fleeting moments, when the fiery eyes of Magua were seen glittering,\nlike the fabled organs of the basilisk through the dusty wreath by which\nhe was enveloped, and he read by those short and deadly glances the fate\nof the combat in the presence of his enemies; ere, however, any hostile\nhand could descend on his devoted head, its place was filled by the\nscowling visage of Chingachgook. In this manner the scene of the combat\nwas removed from the center of the little plain to its verge. The\nMohican now found an opportunity to make a powerful thrust with his\nknife; Magua suddenly relinquished his grasp, and fell backward without\nmotion, and seemingly without life. His adversary leaped on his feet,\nmaking the arches of the forest ring with the sounds of triumph.\n\n\"Well done for the Delawares! victory to the Mohicans!\" cried Hawkeye,\nonce more elevating the butt of the long and fatal rifle; \"a finishing\nblow from a man without a cross will never tell against his honor, nor\nrob him of his right to the scalp.\"\n\nBut at the very moment when the dangerous weapon was in the act of\ndescending, the subtle Huron rolled swiftly from beneath the danger,\nover the edge of the precipice, and falling on his feet, was seen\nleaping, with a single bound, into the center of a thicket of low\nbushes, which clung along its sides. The Delawares, who had believed\ntheir enemy dead, uttered their exclamation of surprise, and were\nfollowing with speed and clamor, like hounds in open view of the deer,\nwhen a shrill and peculiar cry from the scout instantly changed their\npurpose, and recalled them to the summit of the hill.\n\n\"'Twas like himself!\" cried the inveterate forester, whose prejudices\ncontributed so largely to veil his natural sense of justice in all\nmatters which concerned the Mingoes; \"a lying and deceitful varlet as\nhe is. An honest Delaware now, being fairly vanquished, would have lain\nstill, and been knocked on the head, but these knavish Maquas cling to\nlife like so many cats-o'-the-mountain. Let him go--let him go; 'tis but\none man, and he without rifle or bow, many a long mile from his French\ncommerades; and like a rattler that lost his fangs, he can do no further\nmischief, until such time as he, and we too, may leave the prints of our\nmoccasins over a long reach of sandy plain. See, Uncas,\" he added, in\nDelaware, \"your father is flaying the scalps already. It may be well to\ngo round and feel the vagabonds that are left, or we may have another of\nthem loping through the woods, and screeching like a jay that has been\nwinged.\"\n\nSo saying the honest but implacable scout made the circuit of the dead,\ninto whose senseless bosoms he thrust his long knife, with as much\ncoolness as though they had been so many brute carcasses. He had,\nhowever, been anticipated by the elder Mohican, who had already torn the\nemblems of victory from the unresisting heads of the slain.\n\nBut Uncas, denying his habits, we had almost said his nature, flew with\ninstinctive delicacy, accompanied by Heyward, to the assistance of the\nfemales, and quickly releasing Alice, placed her in the arms of Cora. We\nshall not attempt to describe the gratitude to the Almighty Disposer\nof Events which glowed in the bosoms of the sisters, who were thus\nunexpectedly restored to life and to each other. Their thanksgivings\nwere deep and silent; the offerings of their gentle spirits burning\nbrightest and purest on the secret altars of their hearts; and their\nrenovated and more earthly feelings exhibiting themselves in long and\nfervent though speechless caresses. As Alice rose from her knees, where\nshe had sunk by the side of Cora, she threw herself on the bosom of the\nlatter, and sobbed aloud the name of their aged father, while her soft,\ndove-like eyes, sparkled with the rays of hope.\n\n\"We are saved! we are saved!\" she murmured; \"to return to the arms of\nour dear, dear father, and his heart will not be broken with grief. And\nyou, too, Cora, my sister, my more than sister, my mother; you, too,\nare spared. And Duncan,\" she added, looking round upon the youth with a\nsmile of ineffable innocence, \"even our own brave and noble Duncan has\nescaped without a hurt.\"\n\nTo these ardent and nearly innocent words Cora made no other answer than\nby straining the youthful speaker to her heart, as she bent over her\nin melting tenderness. The manhood of Heyward felt no shame in dropping\ntears over this spectacle of affectionate rapture; and Uncas stood,\nfresh and blood-stained from the combat, a calm, and, apparently, an\nunmoved looker-on, it is true, but with eyes that had already lost their\nfierceness, and were beaming with a sympathy that elevated him far\nabove the intelligence, and advanced him probably centuries before, the\npractises of his nation.\n\nDuring this display of emotions so natural in their situation, Hawkeye,\nwhose vigilant distrust had satisfied itself that the Hurons, who\ndisfigured the heavenly scene, no longer possessed the power to\ninterrupt its harmony, approached David, and liberated him from the\nbonds he had, until that moment, endured with the most exemplary\npatience.\n\n\"There,\" exclaimed the scout, casting the last withe behind him, \"you\nare once more master of your own limbs, though you seem not to use them\nwith much greater judgment than that in which they were first fashioned.\nIf advice from one who is not older than yourself, but who, having\nlived most of his time in the wilderness, may be said to have experience\nbeyond his years, will give no offense, you are welcome to my thoughts;\nand these are, to part with the little tooting instrument in your jacket\nto the first fool you meet with, and buy some we'pon with the money, if\nit be only the barrel of a horseman's pistol. By industry and care, you\nmight thus come to some prefarment; for by this time, I should think,\nyour eyes would plainly tell you that a carrion crow is a better bird\nthan a mocking-thresher. The one will, at least, remove foul sights\nfrom before the face of man, while the other is only good to brew\ndisturbances in the woods, by cheating the ears of all that hear them.\"\n\n\"Arms and the clarion for the battle, but the song of thanksgiving\nto the victory!\" answered the liberated David. \"Friend,\" he added,\nthrusting forth his lean, delicate hand toward Hawkeye, in kindness,\nwhile his eyes twinkled and grew moist, \"I thank thee that the hairs\nof my head still grow where they were first rooted by Providence; for,\nthough those of other men may be more glossy and curling, I have ever\nfound mine own well suited to the brain they shelter. That I did not\njoin myself to the battle, was less owing to disinclination, than to the\nbonds of the heathen. Valiant and skillful hast thou proved thyself in\nthe conflict, and I hereby thank thee, before proceeding to discharge\nother and more important duties, because thou hast proved thyself well\nworthy of a Christian's praise.\"\n\n\"The thing is but a trifle, and what you may often see if you tarry long\namong us,\" returned the scout, a good deal softened toward the man of\nsong, by this unequivocal expression of gratitude. \"I have got back my\nold companion, 'killdeer',\" he added, striking his hand on the breech of\nhis rifle; \"and that in itself is a victory. These Iroquois are cunning,\nbut they outwitted themselves when they placed their firearms out of\nreach; and had Uncas or his father been gifted with only their common\nIndian patience, we should have come in upon the knaves with three\nbullets instead of one, and that would have made a finish of the whole\npack; yon loping varlet, as well as his commerades. But 'twas all\nfore-ordered, and for the best.\"\n\n\"Thou sayest well,\" returned David, \"and hast caught the true spirit\nof Christianity. He that is to be saved will be saved, and he that is\npredestined to be damned will be damned. This is the doctrine of truth,\nand most consoling and refreshing it is to the true believer.\"\n\nThe scout, who by this time was seated, examining into the state of his\nrifle with a species of parental assiduity, now looked up at the other\nin a displeasure that he did not affect to conceal, roughly interrupting\nfurther speech.\n\n\"Doctrine or no doctrine,\" said the sturdy woodsman, \"'tis the belief of\nknaves, and the curse of an honest man. I can credit that yonder Huron\nwas to fall by my hand, for with my own eyes I have seen it; but nothing\nshort of being a witness will cause me to think he has met with any\nreward, or that Chingachgook there will be condemned at the final day.\"\n\n\"You have no warranty for such an audacious doctrine, nor any covenant\nto support it,\" cried David who was deeply tinctured with the subtle\ndistinctions which, in his time, and more especially in his province,\nhad been drawn around the beautiful simplicity of revelation, by\nendeavoring to penetrate the awful mystery of the divine nature,\nsupplying faith by self-sufficiency, and by consequence, involving those\nwho reasoned from such human dogmas in absurdities and doubt; \"your\ntemple is reared on the sands, and the first tempest will wash away its\nfoundation. I demand your authorities for such an uncharitable assertion\n(like other advocates of a system, David was not always accurate in his\nuse of terms). Name chapter and verse; in which of the holy books do you\nfind language to support you?\"\n\n\"Book!\" repeated Hawkeye, with singular and ill-concealed disdain; \"do\nyou take me for a whimpering boy at the apronstring of one of your old\ngals; and this good rifle on my knee for the feather of a goose's\nwing, my ox's horn for a bottle of ink, and my leathern pouch for a\ncross-barred handkercher to carry my dinner? Book! what have such as I,\nwho am a warrior of the wilderness, though a man without a cross, to\ndo with books? I never read but in one, and the words that are written\nthere are too simple and too plain to need much schooling; though I may\nboast that of forty long and hard-working years.\"\n\n\"What call you the volume?\" said David, misconceiving the other's\nmeaning.\n\n\"'Tis open before your eyes,\" returned the scout; \"and he who owns it\nis not a niggard of its use. I have heard it said that there are men who\nread in books to convince themselves there is a God. I know not but man\nmay so deform his works in the settlement, as to leave that which is so\nclear in the wilderness a matter of doubt among traders and priests. If\nany such there be, and he will follow me from sun to sun, through the\nwindings of the forest, he shall see enough to teach him that he is a\nfool, and that the greatest of his folly lies in striving to rise to the\nlevel of One he can never equal, be it in goodness, or be it in power.\"\n\nThe instant David discovered that he battled with a disputant who\nimbibed his faith from the lights of nature, eschewing all subtleties\nof doctrine, he willingly abandoned a controversy from which he believed\nneither profit nor credit was to be derived. While the scout was\nspeaking, he had also seated himself, and producing the ready little\nvolume and the iron-rimmed spectacles, he prepared to discharge a\nduty, which nothing but the unexpected assault he had received in his\northodoxy could have so long suspended. He was, in truth, a minstrel of\nthe western continent--of a much later day, certainly, than those gifted\nbards, who formerly sang the profane renown of baron and prince, but\nafter the spirit of his own age and country; and he was now prepared\nto exercise the cunning of his craft, in celebration of, or rather in\nthanksgiving for, the recent victory. He waited patiently for Hawkeye to\ncease, then lifting his eyes, together with his voice, he said, aloud:\n\n\"I invite you, friends, to join in praise for this signal deliverance\nfrom the hands of barbarians and infidels, to the comfortable and solemn\ntones of the tune called 'Northampton'.\"\n\nHe next named the page and verse where the rhymes selected were to be\nfound, and applied the pitch-pipe to his lips, with the decent gravity\nthat he had been wont to use in the temple. This time he was, however,\nwithout any accompaniment, for the sisters were just then pouring out\nthose tender effusions of affection which have been already alluded\nto. Nothing deterred by the smallness of his audience, which, in\ntruth, consisted only of the discontented scout, he raised his voice,\ncommencing and ending the sacred song without accident or interruption\nof any kind.\n\nHawkeye listened while he coolly adjusted his flint and reloaded his\nrifle; but the sounds, wanting the extraneous assistance of scene and\nsympathy, failed to awaken his slumbering emotions. Never minstrel,\nor by whatever more suitable name David should be known, drew upon his\ntalents in the presence of more insensible auditors; though considering\nthe singleness and sincerity of his motive, it is probable that no bard\nof profane song ever uttered notes that ascended so near to that throne\nwhere all homage and praise is due. The scout shook his head, and\nmuttering some unintelligible words, among which \"throat\" and \"Iroquois\"\nwere alone audible, he walked away, to collect and to examine into the\nstate of the captured arsenal of the Hurons. In this office he was now\njoined by Chingachgook, who found his own, as well as the rifle of his\nson, among the arms. Even Heyward and David were furnished with weapons;\nnor was ammunition wanting to render them all effectual.\n\nWhen the foresters had made their selection, and distributed their\nprizes, the scout announced that the hour had arrived when it was\nnecessary to move. By this time the song of Gamut had ceased, and the\nsisters had learned to still the exhibition of their emotions. Aided by\nDuncan and the younger Mohican, the two latter descended the precipitous\nsides of that hill which they had so lately ascended under so very\ndifferent auspices, and whose summit had so nearly proved the scene of\ntheir massacre. At the foot they found the Narragansetts browsing the\nherbage of the bushes, and having mounted, they followed the movements\nof a guide, who, in the most deadly straits, had so often proved himself\ntheir friend. The journey was, however, short. Hawkeye, leaving the\nblind path that the Hurons had followed, turned short to his right,\nand entering the thicket, he crossed a babbling brook, and halted in a\nnarrow dell, under the shade of a few water elms. Their distance from\nthe base of the fatal hill was but a few rods, and the steeds had been\nserviceable only in crossing the shallow stream.\n\nThe scout and the Indians appeared to be familiar with the sequestered\nplace where they now were; for, leaning their rifle against the trees,\nthey commenced throwing aside the dried leaves, and opening the blue\nclay, out of which a clear and sparkling spring of bright, glancing\nwater, quickly bubbled. The white man then looked about him, as though\nseeking for some object, which was not to be found as readily as he\nexpected.\n\n\"Them careless imps, the Mohawks, with their Tuscarora and Onondaga\nbrethren, have been here slaking their thirst,\" he muttered, \"and the\nvagabonds have thrown away the gourd! This is the way with benefits,\nwhen they are bestowed on such disremembering hounds! Here has the Lord\nlaid his hand, in the midst of the howling wilderness, for their good,\nand raised a fountain of water from the bowels of the 'arth, that might\nlaugh at the richest shop of apothecary's ware in all the colonies; and\nsee! the knaves have trodden in the clay, and deformed the cleanliness\nof the place, as though they were brute beasts, instead of human men.\"\n\nUncas silently extended toward him the desired gourd, which the spleen\nof Hawkeye had hitherto prevented him from observing on a branch of\nan elm. Filling it with water, he retired a short distance, to a place\nwhere the ground was more firm and dry; here he coolly seated himself,\nand after taking a long, and, apparently, a grateful draught, he\ncommenced a very strict examination of the fragments of food left by the\nHurons, which had hung in a wallet on his arm.\n\n\"Thank you, lad!\" he continued, returning the empty gourd to Uncas;\n\"now we will see how these rampaging Hurons lived, when outlying in\nambushments. Look at this! The varlets know the better pieces of the\ndeer; and one would think they might carve and roast a saddle, equal to\nthe best cook in the land! But everything is raw, for the Iroquois are\nthorough savages. Uncas, take my steel and kindle a fire; a mouthful of\na tender broil will give natur' a helping hand, after so long a trail.\"\n\nHeyward, perceiving that their guides now set about their repast in\nsober earnest, assisted the ladies to alight, and placed himself at\ntheir side, not unwilling to enjoy a few moments of grateful rest, after\nthe bloody scene he had just gone through. While the culinary process\nwas in hand, curiosity induced him to inquire into the circumstances\nwhich had led to their timely and unexpected rescue:\n\n\"How is it that we see you so soon, my generous friend,\" he asked, \"and\nwithout aid from the garrison of Edward?\"\n\n\"Had we gone to the bend in the river, we might have been in time\nto rake the leaves over your bodies, but too late to have saved your\nscalps,\" coolly answered the scout. \"No, no; instead of throwing away\nstrength and opportunity by crossing to the fort, we lay by, under the\nbank of the Hudson, waiting to watch the movements of the Hurons.\"\n\n\"You were, then, witnesses of all that passed?\"\n\n\"Not of all; for Indian sight is too keen to be easily cheated, and we\nkept close. A difficult matter it was, too, to keep this Mohican boy\nsnug in the ambushment. Ah! Uncas, Uncas, your behavior was more like\nthat of a curious woman than of a warrior on his scent.\"\n\nUncas permitted his eyes to turn for an instant on the sturdy\ncountenance of the speaker, but he neither spoke nor gave any indication\nof repentance. On the contrary, Heyward thought the manner of the young\nMohican was disdainful, if not a little fierce, and that he suppressed\npassions that were ready to explode, as much in compliment to the\nlisteners, as from the deference he usually paid to his white associate.\n\n\"You saw our capture?\" Heyward next demanded.\n\n\"We heard it,\" was the significant answer. \"An Indian yell is plain\nlanguage to men who have passed their days in the woods. But when you\nlanded, we were driven to crawl like sarpents, beneath the leaves; and\nthen we lost sight of you entirely, until we placed eyes on you again\ntrussed to the trees, and ready bound for an Indian massacre.\"\n\n\"Our rescue was the deed of Providence. It was nearly a miracle that you\ndid not mistake the path, for the Hurons divided, and each band had its\nhorses.\"\n\n\"Ay! there we were thrown off the scent, and might, indeed, have lost\nthe trail, had it not been for Uncas; we took the path, however, that\nled into the wilderness; for we judged, and judged rightly, that the\nsavages would hold that course with their prisoners. But when we had\nfollowed it for many miles, without finding a single twig broken, as I\nhad advised, my mind misgave me; especially as all the footsteps had the\nprints of moccasins.\"\n\n\"Our captors had the precaution to see us shod like themselves,\" said\nDuncan, raising a foot, and exhibiting the buckskin he wore.\n\n\"Aye, 'twas judgmatical and like themselves; though we were too expart\nto be thrown from a trail by so common an invention.\"\n\n\"To what, then, are we indebted for our safety?\"\n\n\"To what, as a white man who has no taint of Indian blood, I should be\nashamed to own; to the judgment of the young Mohican, in matters which\nI should know better than he, but which I can now hardly believe to be\ntrue, though my own eyes tell me it is so.\"\n\n\"'Tis extraordinary! will you not name the reason?\"\n\n\"Uncas was bold enough to say, that the beasts ridden by the gentle\nones,\" continued Hawkeye, glancing his eyes, not without curious\ninterest, on the fillies of the ladies, \"planted the legs of one side on\nthe ground at the same time, which is contrary to the movements of all\ntrotting four-footed animals of my knowledge, except the bear. And yet\nhere are horses that always journey in this manner, as my own eyes have\nseen, and as their trail has shown for twenty long miles.\"\n\n\"'Tis the merit of the animal! They come from the shores of\nNarrangansett Bay, in the small province of Providence Plantations,\nand are celebrated for their hardihood, and the ease of this peculiar\nmovement; though other horses are not unfrequently trained to the same.\"\n\n\"It may be--it may be,\" said Hawkeye, who had listened with singular\nattention to this explanation; \"though I am a man who has the full blood\nof the whites, my judgment in deer and beaver is greater than in beasts\nof burden. Major Effingham has many noble chargers, but I have never\nseen one travel after such a sidling gait.\"\n\n\"True; for he would value the animals for very different properties.\nStill is this a breed highly esteemed and, as you witness, much honored\nwith the burdens it is often destined to bear.\"\n\nThe Mohicans had suspended their operations about the glimmering fire\nto listen; and, when Duncan had done, they looked at each other\nsignificantly, the father uttering the never-failing exclamation of\nsurprise. The scout ruminated, like a man digesting his newly-acquired\nknowledge, and once more stole a glance at the horses.\n\n\"I dare to say there are even stranger sights to be seen in the\nsettlements!\" he said, at length. \"Natur' is sadly abused by man, when\nhe once gets the mastery. But, go sidling or go straight, Uncas had seen\nthe movement, and their trail led us on to the broken bush. The outer\nbranch, near the prints of one of the horses, was bent upward, as a lady\nbreaks a flower from its stem, but all the rest were ragged and broken\ndown, as if the strong hand of a man had been tearing them! So I\nconcluded that the cunning varments had seen the twig bent, and had torn\nthe rest, to make us believe a buck had been feeling the boughs with his\nantlers.\"\n\n\"I do believe your sagacity did not deceive you; for some such thing\noccurred!\"\n\n\"That was easy to see,\" added the scout, in no degree conscious of\nhaving exhibited any extraordinary sagacity; \"and a very different\nmatter it was from a waddling horse! It then struck me the Mingoes\nwould push for this spring, for the knaves well know the vartue of its\nwaters!\"\n\n\"Is it, then, so famous?\" demanded Heyward, examining, with a more\ncurious eye, the secluded dell, with its bubbling fountain, surrounded,\nas it was, by earth of a deep, dingy brown.\n\n\"Few red-skins, who travel south and east of the great lakes but have\nheard of its qualities. Will you taste for yourself?\"\n\nHeyward took the gourd, and after swallowing a little of the water,\nthrew it aside with grimaces of discontent. The scout laughed in his\nsilent but heartfelt manner, and shook his head with vast satisfaction.\n\n\"Ah! you want the flavor that one gets by habit; the time was when I\nliked it as little as yourself; but I have come to my taste, and I now\ncrave it, as a deer does the licks*. Your high-spiced wines are not\nbetter liked than a red-skin relishes this water; especially when his\nnatur' is ailing. But Uncas has made his fire, and it is time we think\nof eating, for our journey is long, and all before us.\"\n\n     * Many of the animals of the American forests resort to\n     those spots where salt springs are found. These are called\n     \"licks\" or \"salt licks,\" in the language of the country,\n     from the circumstance that the quadruped is often obliged to\n     lick the earth, in order to obtain the saline particles.\n     These licks are great places of resort with the hunters, who\n     waylay their game near the paths that lead to them.\n\nInterrupting the dialogue by this abrupt transition, the scout had\ninstant recourse to the fragments of food which had escaped the voracity\nof the Hurons. A very summary process completed the simple cookery, when\nhe and the Mohicans commenced their humble meal, with the silence and\ncharacteristic diligence of men who ate in order to enable themselves to\nendure great and unremitting toil.\n\nWhen this necessary, and, happily, grateful duty had been performed,\neach of the foresters stooped and took a long and parting draught at\nthat solitary and silent spring*, around which and its sister fountains,\nwithin fifty years, the wealth, beauty and talents of a hemisphere were\nto assemble in throngs, in pursuit of health and pleasure. Then Hawkeye\nannounced his determination to proceed. The sisters resumed their\nsaddles; Duncan and David grapsed their rifles, and followed on\nfootsteps; the scout leading the advance, and the Mohicans bringing up\nthe rear. The whole party moved swiftly through the narrow path, toward\nthe north, leaving the healing waters to mingle unheeded with the\nadjacent brooks and the bodies of the dead to fester on the neighboring\nmount, without the rites of sepulture; a fate but too common to the\nwarriors of the woods to excite either commiseration or comment.\n\n     * The scene of the foregoing incidents is on the spot where\n     the village of Ballston now stands; one of the two principal\n     watering places of America.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 13\n\n     \"I'll seek a readier path.\"\n     --Parnell\n\nThe route taken by Hawkeye lay across those sandy plains, relived by\noccasional valleys and swells of land, which had been traversed by their\nparty on the morning of the same day, with the baffled Magua for their\nguide. The sun had now fallen low toward the distant mountains; and\nas their journey lay through the interminable forest, the heat was no\nlonger oppressive. Their progress, in consequence, was proportionate;\nand long before the twilight gathered about them, they had made good\nmany toilsome miles on their return.\n\nThe hunter, like the savage whose place he filled, seemed to select\namong the blind signs of their wild route, with a species of instinct,\nseldom abating his speed, and never pausing to deliberate. A rapid and\noblique glance at the moss on the trees, with an occasional upward gaze\ntoward the setting sun, or a steady but passing look at the direction of\nthe numerous water courses, through which he waded, were sufficient\nto determine his path, and remove his greatest difficulties. In the\nmeantime, the forest began to change its hues, losing that lively green\nwhich had embellished its arches, in the graver light which is the usual\nprecursor of the close of day.\n\nWhile the eyes of the sisters were endeavoring to catch glimpses through\nthe trees, of the flood of golden glory which formed a glittering halo\naround the sun, tinging here and there with ruby streaks, or bordering\nwith narrow edgings of shining yellow, a mass of clouds that lay piled\nat no great distance above the western hills, Hawkeye turned suddenly\nand pointing upward toward the gorgeous heavens, he spoke:\n\n\"Yonder is the signal given to man to seek his food and natural rest,\"\nhe said; \"better and wiser would it be, if he could understand the signs\nof nature, and take a lesson from the fowls of the air and the beasts of\nthe field! Our night, however, will soon be over, for with the moon\nwe must be up and moving again. I remember to have fou't the Maquas,\nhereaways, in the first war in which I ever drew blood from man; and we\nthrew up a work of blocks, to keep the ravenous varmints from handling\nour scalps. If my marks do not fail me, we shall find the place a few\nrods further to our left.\"\n\nWithout waiting for an assent, or, indeed, for any reply, the sturdy\nhunter moved boldly into a dense thicket of young chestnuts, shoving\naside the branches of the exuberant shoots which nearly covered the\nground, like a man who expected, at each step, to discover some object\nhe had formerly known. The recollection of the scout did not deceive\nhim. After penetrating through the brush, matted as it was with briars,\nfor a few hundred feet, he entered an open space, that surrounded a low,\ngreen hillock, which was crowned by the decayed blockhouse in question.\nThis rude and neglected building was one of those deserted works, which,\nhaving been thrown up on an emergency, had been abandoned with the\ndisappearance of danger, and was now quietly crumbling in the solitude\nof the forest, neglected and nearly forgotten, like the circumstances\nwhich had caused it to be reared. Such memorials of the passage and\nstruggles of man are yet frequent throughout the broad barrier of\nwilderness which once separated the hostile provinces, and form a\nspecies of ruins that are intimately associated with the recollections\nof colonial history, and which are in appropriate keeping with the\ngloomy character of the surrounding scenery. The roof of bark had long\nsince fallen, and mingled with the soil, but the huge logs of pine,\nwhich had been hastily thrown together, still preserved their relative\npositions, though one angle of the work had given way under the\npressure, and threatened a speedy downfall to the remainder of the\nrustic edifice. While Heyward and his companions hesitated to approach\na building so decayed, Hawkeye and the Indians entered within the low\nwalls, not only without fear, but with obvious interest. While the\nformer surveyed the ruins, both internally and externally, with the\ncuriosity of one whose recollections were reviving at each moment,\nChingachgook related to his son, in the language of the Delawares, and\nwith the pride of a conqueror, the brief history of the skirmish which\nhad been fought, in his youth, in that secluded spot. A strain of\nmelancholy, however, blended with his triumph, rendering his voice, as\nusual, soft and musical.\n\nIn the meantime, the sisters gladly dismounted, and prepared to enjoy\ntheir halt in the coolness of the evening, and in a security which they\nbelieved nothing but the beasts of the forest could invade.\n\n\"Would not our resting-place have been more retired, my worthy friend,\"\ndemanded the more vigilant Duncan, perceiving that the scout had already\nfinished his short survey, \"had we chosen a spot less known, and one\nmore rarely visited than this?\"\n\n\"Few live who know the blockhouse was ever raised,\" was the slow and\nmusing answer; \"'tis not often that books are made, and narratives\nwritten of such a scrimmage as was here fou't atween the Mohicans and\nthe Mohawks, in a war of their own waging. I was then a younker, and\nwent out with the Delawares, because I know'd they were a scandalized\nand wronged race. Forty days and forty nights did the imps crave our\nblood around this pile of logs, which I designed and partly reared,\nbeing, as you'll remember, no Indian myself, but a man without a cross.\nThe Delawares lent themselves to the work, and we made it good, ten to\ntwenty, until our numbers were nearly equal, and then we sallied out\nupon the hounds, and not a man of them ever got back to tell the fate\nof his party. Yes, yes; I was then young, and new to the sight of blood;\nand not relishing the thought that creatures who had spirits like myself\nshould lay on the naked ground, to be torn asunder by beasts, or to\nbleach in the rains, I buried the dead with my own hands, under that\nvery little hillock where you have placed yourselves; and no bad seat\ndoes it make neither, though it be raised by the bones of mortal men.\"\n\nHeyward and the sisters arose, on the instant, from the grassy\nsepulcher; nor could the two latter, notwithstanding the terrific scenes\nthey had so recently passed through, entirely suppress an emotion of\nnatural horror, when they found themselves in such familiar contact with\nthe grave of the dead Mohawks. The gray light, the gloomy little area\nof dark grass, surrounded by its border of brush, beyond which the pines\nrose, in breathing silence, apparently into the very clouds, and the\ndeathlike stillness of the vast forest, were all in unison to deepen\nsuch a sensation. \"They are gone, and they are harmless,\" continued\nHawkeye, waving his hand, with a melancholy smile at their manifest\nalarm; \"they'll never shout the war-whoop nor strike a blow with the\ntomahawk again! And of all those who aided in placing them where they\nlie, Chingachgook and I only are living! The brothers and family of the\nMohican formed our war party; and you see before you all that are now\nleft of his race.\"\n\nThe eyes of the listeners involuntarily sought the forms of the Indians,\nwith a compassionate interest in their desolate fortune. Their dark\npersons were still to be seen within the shadows of the blockhouse,\nthe son listening to the relation of his father with that sort of\nintenseness which would be created by a narrative that redounded so much\nto the honor of those whose names he had long revered for their courage\nand savage virtues.\n\n\"I had thought the Delawares a pacific people,\" said Duncan, \"and that\nthey never waged war in person; trusting the defense of their hands to\nthose very Mohawks that you slew!\"\n\n\"'Tis true in part,\" returned the scout, \"and yet, at the bottom, 'tis\na wicked lie. Such a treaty was made in ages gone by, through the\ndeviltries of the Dutchers, who wished to disarm the natives that had\nthe best right to the country, where they had settled themselves. The\nMohicans, though a part of the same nation, having to deal with the\nEnglish, never entered into the silly bargain, but kept to their\nmanhood; as in truth did the Delawares, when their eyes were open to\ntheir folly. You see before you a chief of the great Mohican Sagamores!\nOnce his family could chase their deer over tracts of country wider than\nthat which belongs to the Albany Patteroon, without crossing brook or\nhill that was not their own; but what is left of their descendant? He\nmay find his six feet of earth when God chooses, and keep it in peace,\nperhaps, if he has a friend who will take the pains to sink his head so\nlow that the plowshares cannot reach it!\"\n\n\"Enough!\" said Heyward, apprehensive that the subject might lead to\na discussion that would interrupt the harmony so necessary to the\npreservation of his fair companions; \"we have journeyed far, and few\namong us are blessed with forms like that of yours, which seems to know\nneither fatigue nor weakness.\"\n\n\"The sinews and bones of a man carry me through it all,\" said the\nhunter, surveying his muscular limbs with a simplicity that betrayed\nthe honest pleasure the compliment afforded him; \"there are larger and\nheavier men to be found in the settlements, but you might travel many\ndays in a city before you could meet one able to walk fifty miles\nwithout stopping to take breath, or who has kept the hounds within\nhearing during a chase of hours. However, as flesh and blood are not\nalways the same, it is quite reasonable to suppose that the gentle ones\nare willing to rest, after all they have seen and done this day. Uncas,\nclear out the spring, while your father and I make a cover for their\ntender heads of these chestnut shoots, and a bed of grass and leaves.\"\n\nThe dialogue ceased, while the hunter and his companions busied\nthemselves in preparations for the comfort and protection of those they\nguided. A spring, which many long years before had induced the natives\nto select the place for their temporary fortification, was soon cleared\nof leaves, and a fountain of crystal gushed from the bed, diffusing\nits waters over the verdant hillock. A corner of the building was then\nroofed in such a manner as to exclude the heavy dew of the climate,\nand piles of sweet shrubs and dried leaves were laid beneath it for the\nsisters to repose on.\n\nWhile the diligent woodsmen were employed in this manner, Cora and\nAlice partook of that refreshment which duty required much more than\ninclination prompted them to accept. They then retired within the\nwalls, and first offering up their thanksgivings for past mercies, and\npetitioning for a continuance of the Divine favor throughout the coming\nnight, they laid their tender forms on the fragrant couch, and in spite\nof recollections and forebodings, soon sank into those slumbers which\nnature so imperiously demanded, and which were sweetened by hopes\nfor the morrow. Duncan had prepared himself to pass the night in\nwatchfulness near them, just without the ruin, but the scout, perceiving\nhis intention, pointed toward Chingachgook, as he coolly disposed his\nown person on the grass, and said:\n\n\"The eyes of a white man are too heavy and too blind for such a watch as\nthis! The Mohican will be our sentinel, therefore let us sleep.\"\n\n\"I proved myself a sluggard on my post during the past night,\" said\nHeyward, \"and have less need of repose than you, who did more credit\nto the character of a soldier. Let all the party seek their rest, then,\nwhile I hold the guard.\"\n\n\"If we lay among the white tents of the Sixtieth, and in front of an\nenemy like the French, I could not ask for a better watchman,\" returned\nthe scout; \"but in the darkness and among the signs of the wilderness\nyour judgment would be like the folly of a child, and your vigilance\nthrown away. Do then, like Uncas and myself, sleep, and sleep in\nsafety.\"\n\nHeyward perceived, in truth, that the younger Indian had thrown his form\non the side of the hillock while they were talking, like one who sought\nto make the most of the time allotted to rest, and that his example had\nbeen followed by David, whose voice literally \"clove to his jaws,\" with\nthe fever of his wound, heightened, as it was, by their toilsome march.\nUnwilling to prolong a useless discussion, the young man affected to\ncomply, by posting his back against the logs of the blockhouse, in a\nhalf recumbent posture, though resolutely determined, in his own mind,\nnot to close an eye until he had delivered his precious charge into the\narms of Munro himself. Hawkeye, believing he had prevailed, soon fell\nasleep, and a silence as deep as the solitude in which they had found\nit, pervaded the retired spot.\n\nFor many minutes Duncan succeeded in keeping his senses on the alert,\nand alive to every moaning sound that arose from the forest. His vision\nbecame more acute as the shades of evening settled on the place; and\neven after the stars were glimmering above his head, he was able to\ndistinguish the recumbent forms of his companions, as they lay stretched\non the grass, and to note the person of Chingachgook, who sat upright\nand motionless as one of the trees which formed the dark barrier on\nevery side. He still heard the gentle breathings of the sisters, who lay\nwithin a few feet of him, and not a leaf was ruffled by the passing\nair of which his ear did not detect the whispering sound. At length,\nhowever, the mournful notes of a whip-poor-will became blended with the\nmoanings of an owl; his heavy eyes occasionally sought the bright rays\nof the stars, and he then fancied he saw them through the fallen lids.\nAt instants of momentary wakefulness he mistook a bush for his associate\nsentinel; his head next sank upon his shoulder, which, in its turn,\nsought the support of the ground; and, finally, his whole person became\nrelaxed and pliant, and the young man sank into a deep sleep, dreaming\nthat he was a knight of ancient chivalry, holding his midnight vigils\nbefore the tent of a recaptured princess, whose favor he did not despair\nof gaining, by such a proof of devotion and watchfulness.\n\nHow long the tired Duncan lay in this insensible state he never\nknew himself, but his slumbering visions had been long lost in total\nforgetfulness, when he was awakened by a light tap on the shoulder.\nAroused by this signal, slight as it was, he sprang upon his feet with\na confused recollection of the self-imposed duty he had assumed with the\ncommencement of the night.\n\n\"Who comes?\" he demanded, feeling for his sword, at the place where it\nwas usually suspended. \"Speak! friend or enemy?\"\n\n\"Friend,\" replied the low voice of Chingachgook; who, pointing upward\nat the luminary which was shedding its mild light through the opening\nin the trees, directly in their bivouac, immediately added, in his rude\nEnglish: \"Moon comes and white man's fort far--far off; time to move,\nwhen sleep shuts both eyes of the Frenchman!\"\n\n\"You say true! Call up your friends, and bridle the horses while I\nprepare my own companions for the march!\"\n\n\"We are awake, Duncan,\" said the soft, silvery tones of Alice within the\nbuilding, \"and ready to travel very fast after so refreshing a sleep;\nbut you have watched through the tedious night in our behalf, after\nhaving endured so much fatigue the livelong day!\"\n\n\"Say, rather, I would have watched, but my treacherous eyes betrayed me;\ntwice have I proved myself unfit for the trust I bear.\"\n\n\"Nay, Duncan, deny it not,\" interrupted the smiling Alice, issuing\nfrom the shadows of the building into the light of the moon, in all the\nloveliness of her freshened beauty; \"I know you to be a heedless one,\nwhen self is the object of your care, and but too vigilant in favor of\nothers. Can we not tarry here a little longer while you find the rest\nyou need? Cheerfully, most cheerfully, will Cora and I keep the vigils,\nwhile you and all these brave men endeavor to snatch a little sleep!\"\n\n\"If shame could cure me of my drowsiness, I should never close an eye\nagain,\" said the uneasy youth, gazing at the ingenuous countenance\nof Alice, where, however, in its sweet solicitude, he read nothing to\nconfirm his half-awakened suspicion. \"It is but too true, that after\nleading you into danger by my heedlessness, I have not even the merit of\nguarding your pillows as should become a soldier.\"\n\n\"No one but Duncan himself should accuse Duncan of such a weakness. Go,\nthen, and sleep; believe me, neither of us, weak girls as we are, will\nbetray our watch.\"\n\nThe young man was relieved from the awkwardness of making any further\nprotestations of his own demerits, by an exclamation from Chingachgook,\nand the attitude of riveted attention assumed by his son.\n\n\"The Mohicans hear an enemy!\" whispered Hawkeye, who, by this time, in\ncommon with the whole party, was awake and stirring. \"They scent danger\nin the wind!\"\n\n\"God forbid!\" exclaimed Heyward. \"Surely we have had enough of\nbloodshed!\"\n\nWhile he spoke, however, the young soldier seized his rifle, and\nadvancing toward the front, prepared to atone for his venial remissness,\nby freely exposing his life in defense of those he attended.\n\n\"'Tis some creature of the forest prowling around us in quest of food,\"\nhe said, in a whisper, as soon as the low, and apparently distant\nsounds, which had startled the Mohicans, reached his own ears.\n\n\"Hist!\" returned the attentive scout; \"'tis man; even I can now tell\nhis tread, poor as my senses are when compared to an Indian's! That\nScampering Huron has fallen in with one of Montcalm's outlying parties,\nand they have struck upon our trail. I shouldn't like, myself, to spill\nmore human blood in this spot,\" he added, looking around with anxiety in\nhis features, at the dim objects by which he was surrounded; \"but what\nmust be, must! Lead the horses into the blockhouse, Uncas; and, friends,\ndo you follow to the same shelter. Poor and old as it is, it offers a\ncover, and has rung with the crack of a rifle afore to-night!\"\n\nHe was instantly obeyed, the Mohicans leading the Narrangansetts\nwithin the ruin, whither the whole party repaired with the most guarded\nsilence.\n\nThe sound of approaching footsteps were now too distinctly audible to\nleave any doubts as to the nature of the interruption. They were soon\nmingled with voices calling to each other in an Indian dialect, which\nthe hunter, in a whisper, affirmed to Heyward was the language of the\nHurons. When the party reached the point where the horses had entered\nthe thicket which surrounded the blockhouse, they were evidently at\nfault, having lost those marks which, until that moment, had directed\ntheir pursuit.\n\nIt would seem by the voices that twenty men were soon collected at that\none spot, mingling their different opinions and advice in noisy clamor.\n\n\"The knaves know our weakness,\" whispered Hawkeye, who stood by the side\nof Heyward, in deep shade, looking through an opening in the logs, \"or\nthey wouldn't indulge their idleness in such a squaw's march. Listen to\nthe reptiles! each man among them seems to have two tongues, and but a\nsingle leg.\"\n\nDuncan, brave as he was in the combat, could not, in such a moment of\npainful suspense, make any reply to the cool and characteristic remark\nof the scout. He only grasped his rifle more firmly, and fastened his\neyes upon the narrow opening, through which he gazed upon the moonlight\nview with increasing anxiety. The deeper tones of one who spoke as\nhaving authority were next heard, amid a silence that denoted the\nrespect with which his orders, or rather advice, was received. After\nwhich, by the rustling of leaves, and crackling of dried twigs, it\nwas apparent the savages were separating in pursuit of the lost trail.\nFortunately for the pursued, the light of the moon, while it shed a\nflood of mild luster upon the little area around the ruin, was not\nsufficiently strong to penetrate the deep arches of the forest, where\nthe objects still lay in deceptive shadow. The search proved fruitless;\nfor so short and sudden had been the passage from the faint path the\ntravelers had journeyed into the thicket, that every trace of their\nfootsteps was lost in the obscurity of the woods.\n\nIt was not long, however, before the restless savages were heard beating\nthe brush, and gradually approaching the inner edge of that dense border\nof young chestnuts which encircled the little area.\n\n\"They are coming,\" muttered Heyward, endeavoring to thrust his rifle\nthrough the chink in the logs; \"let us fire on their approach.\"\n\n\"Keep everything in the shade,\" returned the scout; \"the snapping of\na flint, or even the smell of a single karnel of the brimstone, would\nbring the hungry varlets upon us in a body. Should it please God that we\nmust give battle for the scalps, trust to the experience of men who\nknow the ways of the savages, and who are not often backward when the\nwar-whoop is howled.\"\n\nDuncan cast his eyes behind him, and saw that the trembling sisters were\ncowering in the far corner of the building, while the Mohicans stood in\nthe shadow, like two upright posts, ready, and apparently willing, to\nstrike when the blow should be needed. Curbing his impatience, he again\nlooked out upon the area, and awaited the result in silence. At that\ninstant the thicket opened, and a tall and armed Huron advanced a few\npaces into the open space. As he gazed upon the silent blockhouse, the\nmoon fell upon his swarthy countenance, and betrayed its surprise and\ncuriosity. He made the exclamation which usually accompanies the former\nemotion in an Indian, and, calling in a low voice, soon drew a companion\nto his side.\n\nThese children of the woods stood together for several moments pointing\nat the crumbling edifice, and conversing in the unintelligible language\nof their tribe. They then approached, though with slow and cautious\nsteps, pausing every instant to look at the building, like startled deer\nwhose curiosity struggled powerfully with their awakened apprehensions\nfor the mastery. The foot of one of them suddenly rested on the mound,\nand he stopped to examine its nature. At this moment, Heyward observed\nthat the scout loosened his knife in its sheath, and lowered the muzzle\nof his rifle. Imitating these movements, the young man prepared himself\nfor the struggle which now seemed inevitable.\n\nThe savages were so near, that the least motion in one of the horses, or\neven a breath louder than common, would have betrayed the fugitives. But\nin discovering the character of the mound, the attention of the Hurons\nappeared directed to a different object. They spoke together, and\nthe sounds of their voices were low and solemn, as if influenced by a\nreverence that was deeply blended with awe. Then they drew warily back,\nkeeping their eyes riveted on the ruin, as if they expected to see\nthe apparitions of the dead issue from its silent walls, until, having\nreached the boundary of the area, they moved slowly into the thicket and\ndisappeared.\n\nHawkeye dropped the breech of his rifle to the earth, and drawing a\nlong, free breath, exclaimed, in an audible whisper:\n\n\"Ay! they respect the dead, and it has this time saved their own lives,\nand, it may be, the lives of better men too.\"\n\nHeyward lent his attention for a single moment to his companion, but\nwithout replying, he again turned toward those who just then interested\nhim more. He heard the two Hurons leave the bushes, and it was soon\nplain that all the pursuers were gathered about them, in deep attention\nto their report. After a few minutes of earnest and solemn dialogue,\naltogether different from the noisy clamor with which they had first\ncollected about the spot, the sounds grew fainter and more distant, and\nfinally were lost in the depths of the forest.\n\nHawkeye waited until a signal from the listening Chingachgook assured\nhim that every sound from the retiring party was completely swallowed by\nthe distance, when he motioned to Heyward to lead forth the horses, and\nto assist the sisters into their saddles. The instant this was done\nthey issued through the broken gateway, and stealing out by a direction\nopposite to the one by which they entered, they quitted the spot, the\nsisters casting furtive glances at the silent, grave and crumbling ruin,\nas they left the soft light of the moon, to bury themselves in the gloom\nof the woods.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 14\n\n     \"Guard.--Qui est la?\n     Puc.   --Paisans, pauvres gens de France.\"\n     --King Henry VI\n\nDuring the rapid movement from the blockhouse, and until the party was\ndeeply buried in the forest, each individual was too much interested in\nthe escape to hazard a word even in whispers. The scout resumed his\npost in advance, though his steps, after he had thrown a safe distance\nbetween himself and his enemies, were more deliberate than in their\nprevious march, in consequence of his utter ignorance of the localities\nof the surrounding woods. More than once he halted to consult with his\nconfederates, the Mohicans, pointing upward at the moon, and examining\nthe barks of the trees with care. In these brief pauses, Heyward and the\nsisters listened, with senses rendered doubly acute by the danger, to\ndetect any symptoms which might announce the proximity of their foes.\nAt such moments, it seemed as if a vast range of country lay buried in\neternal sleep; not the least sound arising from the forest, unless it\nwas the distant and scarcely audible rippling of a water-course. Birds,\nbeasts, and man, appeared to slumber alike, if, indeed, any of the\nlatter were to be found in that wide tract of wilderness. But the sounds\nof the rivulet, feeble and murmuring as they were, relieved the guides\nat once from no trifling embarrassment, and toward it they immediately\nheld their way.\n\nWhen the banks of the little stream were gained, Hawkeye made another\nhalt; and taking the moccasins from his feet, he invited Heyward and\nGamut to follow his example. He then entered the water, and for near an\nhour they traveled in the bed of the brook, leaving no trail. The\nmoon had already sunk into an immense pile of black clouds, which lay\nimpending above the western horizon, when they issued from the low and\ndevious water-course to rise again to the light and level of the sandy\nbut wooded plain. Here the scout seemed to be once more at home, for he\nheld on this way with the certainty and diligence of a man who moved in\nthe security of his own knowledge. The path soon became more uneven, and\nthe travelers could plainly perceive that the mountains drew nigher to\nthem on each hand, and that they were, in truth, about entering one of\ntheir gorges. Suddenly, Hawkeye made a pause, and, waiting until he\nwas joined by the whole party, he spoke, though in tones so low and\ncautious, that they added to the solemnity of his words, in the quiet\nand darkness of the place.\n\n\"It is easy to know the pathways, and to find the licks and\nwater-courses of the wilderness,\" he said; \"but who that saw this spot\ncould venture to say, that a mighty army was at rest among yonder silent\ntrees and barren mountains?\"\n\n\"We are, then, at no great distance from William Henry?\" said Heyward,\nadvancing nigher to the scout.\n\n\"It is yet a long and weary path, and when and where to strike it is\nnow our greatest difficulty. See,\" he said, pointing through the trees\ntoward a spot where a little basin of water reflected the stars from its\nplacid bosom, \"here is the 'bloody pond'; and I am on ground that I have\nnot only often traveled, but over which I have fou't the enemy, from the\nrising to the setting sun.\"\n\n\"Ha! that sheet of dull and dreary water, then, is the sepulcher of the\nbrave men who fell in the contest. I have heard it named, but never have\nI stood on its banks before.\"\n\n\"Three battles did we make with the Dutch-Frenchman* in a day,\"\ncontinued Hawkeye, pursuing the train of his own thoughts, rather than\nreplying to the remark of Duncan. \"He met us hard by, in our outward\nmarch to ambush his advance, and scattered us, like driven deer, through\nthe defile, to the shores of Horican. Then we rallied behind our fallen\ntrees, and made head against him, under Sir William--who was made Sir\nWilliam for that very deed; and well did we pay him for the disgrace\nof the morning! Hundreds of Frenchmen saw the sun that day for the last\ntime; and even their leader, Dieskau himself, fell into our hands, so\ncut and torn with the lead, that he has gone back to his own country,\nunfit for further acts in war.\"\n\n     * Baron Dieskau, a German, in the service of France. A few\n     years previously to the period of the tale, this officer was\n     defeated by Sir William Johnson, of Johnstown, New York, on\n     the shores of Lake George.\n\n\"'Twas a noble repulse!\" exclaimed Heyward, in the heat of his youthful\nardor; \"the fame of it reached us early, in our southern army.\"\n\n\"Ay! but it did not end there. I was sent by Major Effingham, at Sir\nWilliam's own bidding, to outflank the French, and carry the tidings\nof their disaster across the portage, to the fort on the Hudson. Just\nhereaway, where you see the trees rise into a mountain swell, I met a\nparty coming down to our aid, and I led them where the enemy were taking\ntheir meal, little dreaming that they had not finished the bloody work\nof the day.\"\n\n\"And you surprised them?\"\n\n\"If death can be a surprise to men who are thinking only of the cravings\nof their appetites. We gave them but little breathing time, for they had\nborne hard upon us in the fight of the morning, and there were few in\nour party who had not lost friend or relative by their hands.\"\n\n\"When all was over, the dead, and some say the dying, were cast into\nthat little pond. These eyes have seen its waters colored with blood, as\nnatural water never yet flowed from the bowels of the 'arth.\"\n\n\"It was a convenient, and, I trust, will prove a peaceful grave for a\nsoldier. You have then seen much service on this frontier?\"\n\n\"Ay!\" said the scout, erecting his tall person with an air of military\npride; \"there are not many echoes among these hills that haven't rung\nwith the crack of my rifle, nor is there the space of a square mile\natwixt Horican and the river, that 'killdeer' hasn't dropped a living\nbody on, be it an enemy or be it a brute beast. As for the grave there\nbeing as quiet as you mention, it is another matter. There are them\nin the camp who say and think, man, to lie still, should not be buried\nwhile the breath is in the body; and certain it is that in the hurry of\nthat evening, the doctors had but little time to say who was living and\nwho was dead. Hist! see you nothing walking on the shore of the pond?\"\n\n\"'Tis not probable that any are as houseless as ourselves in this dreary\nforest.\"\n\n\"Such as he may care but little for house or shelter, and night dew can\nnever wet a body that passes its days in the water,\" returned the scout,\ngrasping the shoulder of Heyward with such convulsive strength as to\nmake the young soldier painfully sensible how much superstitious terror\nhad got the mastery of a man usually so dauntless.\n\n\"By heaven, there is a human form, and it approaches! Stand to your\narms, my friends; for we know not whom we encounter.\"\n\n\"Qui vive?\" demanded a stern, quick voice, which sounded like a\nchallenge from another world, issuing out of that solitary and solemn\nplace.\n\n\"What says it?\" whispered the scout; \"it speaks neither Indian nor\nEnglish.\"\n\n\"Qui vive?\" repeated the same voice, which was quickly followed by the\nrattling of arms, and a menacing attitude.\n\n\"France!\" cried Heyward, advancing from the shadow of the trees to the\nshore of the pond, within a few yards of the sentinel.\n\n\"D'ou venez-vous--ou allez-vous, d'aussi bonne heure?\" demanded the\ngrenadier, in the language and with the accent of a man from old France.\n\n\"Je viens de la decouverte, et je vais me coucher.\"\n\n\"Etes-vous officier du roi?\"\n\n\"Sans doute, mon camarade; me prends-tu pour un provincial! Je suis\ncapitaine de chasseurs (Heyward well knew that the other was of a\nregiment in the line); j'ai ici, avec moi, les filles du commandant\nde la fortification. Aha! tu en as entendu parler! je les ai fait\nprisonnieres pres de l'autre fort, et je les conduis au general.\"\n\n\"Ma foi! mesdames; j'en suis fâche pour vous,\" exclaimed the young\nsoldier, touching his cap with grace; \"mais--fortune de guerre! vous\ntrouverez notre general un brave homme, et bien poli avec les dames.\"\n\n\"C'est le caractere des gens de guerre,\" said Cora, with admirable\nself-possession. \"Adieu, mon ami; je vous souhaiterais un devoir plus\nagreable a remplir.\"\n\nThe soldier made a low and humble acknowledgment for her civility; and\nHeyward adding a \"Bonne nuit, mon camarade,\" they moved deliberately\nforward, leaving the sentinel pacing the banks of the silent pond,\nlittle suspecting an enemy of so much effrontery, and humming to himself\nthose words which were recalled to his mind by the sight of women, and,\nperhaps, by recollections of his own distant and beautiful France: \"Vive\nle vin, vive l'amour,\" etc., etc.\n\n\"'Tis well you understood the knave!\" whispered the scout, when they had\ngained a little distance from the place, and letting his rifle fall into\nthe hollow of his arm again; \"I soon saw that he was one of them uneasy\nFrenchers; and well for him it was that his speech was friendly and his\nwishes kind, or a place might have been found for his bones among those\nof his countrymen.\"\n\nHe was interrupted by a long and heavy groan which arose from the little\nbasin, as though, in truth, the spirits of the departed lingered about\ntheir watery sepulcher.\n\n\"Surely it was of flesh,\" continued the scout; \"no spirit could handle\nits arms so steadily.\"\n\n\"It was of flesh; but whether the poor fellow still belongs to this\nworld may well be doubted,\" said Heyward, glancing his eyes around him,\nand missing Chingachgook from their little band. Another groan more\nfaint than the former was succeeded by a heavy and sullen plunge into\nthe water, and all was still again as if the borders of the dreary pool\nhad never been awakened from the silence of creation. While they yet\nhesitated in uncertainty, the form of the Indian was seen gliding out of\nthe thicket. As the chief rejoined them, with one hand he attached the\nreeking scalp of the unfortunate young Frenchman to his girdle, and with\nthe other he replaced the knife and tomahawk that had drunk his blood.\nHe then took his wonted station, with the air of a man who believed he\nhad done a deed of merit.\n\nThe scout dropped one end of his rifle to the earth, and leaning his\nhands on the other, he stood musing in profound silence. Then, shaking\nhis head in a mournful manner, he muttered:\n\n\"'Twould have been a cruel and an unhuman act for a white-skin; but 'tis\nthe gift and natur' of an Indian, and I suppose it should not be denied.\nI could wish, though, it had befallen an accursed Mingo, rather than\nthat gay young boy from the old countries.\"\n\n\"Enough!\" said Heyward, apprehensive the unconscious sisters might\ncomprehend the nature of the detention, and conquering his disgust by a\ntrain of reflections very much like that of the hunter; \"'tis done; and\nthough better it were left undone, cannot be amended. You see, we are,\ntoo obviously within the sentinels of the enemy; what course do you\npropose to follow?\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Hawkeye, rousing himself again; \"'tis as you say, too late\nto harbor further thoughts about it. Ay, the French have gathered around\nthe fort in good earnest and we have a delicate needle to thread in\npassing them.\"\n\n\"And but little time to do it in,\" added Heyward, glancing his eyes\nupwards, toward the bank of vapor that concealed the setting moon.\n\n\"And little time to do it in!\" repeated the scout. \"The thing may be\ndone in two fashions, by the help of Providence, without which it may\nnot be done at all.\"\n\n\"Name them quickly for time presses.\"\n\n\"One would be to dismount the gentle ones, and let their beasts range\nthe plain, by sending the Mohicans in front, we might then cut a lane\nthrough their sentries, and enter the fort over the dead bodies.\"\n\n\"It will not do--it will not do!\" interrupted the generous Heyward;\n\"a soldier might force his way in this manner, but never with such a\nconvoy.\"\n\n\"'Twould be, indeed, a bloody path for such tender feet to wade in,\"\nreturned the equally reluctant scout; \"but I thought it befitting my\nmanhood to name it. We must, then, turn in our trail and get without the\nline of their lookouts, when we will bend short to the west, and enter\nthe mountains; where I can hide you, so that all the devil's hounds in\nMontcalm's pay would be thrown off the scent for months to come.\"\n\n\"Let it be done, and that instantly.\"\n\nFurther words were unnecessary; for Hawkeye, merely uttering the mandate\nto \"follow,\" moved along the route by which they had just entered their\npresent critical and even dangerous situation. Their progress, like\ntheir late dialogue, was guarded, and without noise; for none knew at\nwhat moment a passing patrol, or a crouching picket of the enemy, might\nrise upon their path. As they held their silent way along the margin\nof the pond, again Heyward and the scout stole furtive glances at its\nappalling dreariness. They looked in vain for the form they had so\nrecently seen stalking along in silent shores, while a low and regular\nwash of the little waves, by announcing that the waters were not yet\nsubsided, furnished a frightful memorial of the deed of blood they had\njust witnessed. Like all that passing and gloomy scene, the low basin,\nhowever, quickly melted in the darkness, and became blended with the\nmass of black objects in the rear of the travelers.\n\nHawkeye soon deviated from the line of their retreat, and striking off\ntowards the mountains which form the western boundary of the narrow\nplain, he led his followers, with swift steps, deep within the shadows\nthat were cast from their high and broken summits. The route was now\npainful; lying over ground ragged with rocks, and intersected with\nravines, and their progress proportionately slow. Bleak and black\nhills lay on every side of them, compensating in some degree for the\nadditional toil of the march by the sense of security they imparted. At\nlength the party began slowly to rise a steep and rugged ascent, by a\npath that curiously wound among rocks and trees, avoiding the one and\nsupported by the other, in a manner that showed it had been devised by\nmen long practised in the arts of the wilderness. As they gradually rose\nfrom the level of the valleys, the thick darkness which usually precedes\nthe approach of day began to disperse, and objects were seen in the\nplain and palpable colors with which they had been gifted by nature.\nWhen they issued from the stunted woods which clung to the barren sides\nof the mountain, upon a flat and mossy rock that formed its summit, they\nmet the morning, as it came blushing above the green pines of a hill\nthat lay on the opposite side of the valley of the Horican.\n\nThe scout now told the sisters to dismount; and taking the bridles from\nthe mouths, and the saddles off the backs of the jaded beasts, he turned\nthem loose, to glean a scanty subsistence among the shrubs and meager\nherbage of that elevated region.\n\n\"Go,\" he said, \"and seek your food where natur' gives it to you; and\nbeware that you become not food to ravenous wolves yourselves, among\nthese hills.\"\n\n\"Have we no further need of them?\" demanded Heyward.\n\n\"See, and judge with your own eyes,\" said the scout, advancing toward\nthe eastern brow of the mountain, whither he beckoned for the whole\nparty to follow; \"if it was as easy to look into the heart of man as\nit is to spy out the nakedness of Montcalm's camp from this spot,\nhypocrites would grow scarce, and the cunning of a Mingo might prove a\nlosing game, compared to the honesty of a Delaware.\"\n\nWhen the travelers reached the verge of the precipices they saw, at\na glance, the truth of the scout's declaration, and the admirable\nforesight with which he had led them to their commanding station.\n\nThe mountain on which they stood, elevated perhaps a thousand feet in\nthe air, was a high cone that rose a little in advance of that range\nwhich stretches for miles along the western shores of the lake, until\nmeeting its sisters miles beyond the water, it ran off toward the\nCanadas, in confused and broken masses of rock, thinly sprinkled with\nevergreens. Immediately at the feet of the party, the southern shore\nof the Horican swept in a broad semicircle from mountain to mountain,\nmarking a wide strand, that soon rose into an uneven and somewhat\nelevated plain. To the north stretched the limpid, and, as it appeared\nfrom that dizzy height, the narrow sheet of the \"holy lake,\" indented\nwith numberless bays, embellished by fantastic headlands, and dotted\nwith countless islands. At the distance of a few leagues, the bed of the\nwater became lost among mountains, or was wrapped in the masses of vapor\nthat came slowly rolling along their bosom, before a light morning air.\nBut a narrow opening between the crests of the hills pointed out the\npassage by which they found their way still further north, to spread\ntheir pure and ample sheets again, before pouring out their tribute\ninto the distant Champlain. To the south stretched the defile, or rather\nbroken plain, so often mentioned. For several miles in this direction,\nthe mountains appeared reluctant to yield their dominion, but within\nreach of the eye they diverged, and finally melted into the level and\nsandy lands, across which we have accompanied our adventurers in their\ndouble journey. Along both ranges of hills, which bounded the opposite\nsides of the lake and valley, clouds of light vapor were rising in\nspiral wreaths from the uninhabited woods, looking like the smoke of\nhidden cottages; or rolled lazily down the declivities, to mingle with\nthe fogs of the lower land. A single, solitary, snow-white cloud floated\nabove the valley, and marked the spot beneath which lay the silent pool\nof the \"bloody pond.\"\n\nDirectly on the shore of the lake, and nearer to its western than to its\neastern margin, lay the extensive earthen ramparts and low buildings\nof William Henry. Two of the sweeping bastions appeared to rest on\nthe water which washed their bases, while a deep ditch and extensive\nmorasses guarded its other sides and angles. The land had been cleared\nof wood for a reasonable distance around the work, but every other part\nof the scene lay in the green livery of nature, except where the limpid\nwater mellowed the view, or the bold rocks thrust their black and naked\nheads above the undulating outline of the mountain ranges. In its front\nmight be seen the scattered sentinels, who held a weary watch against\ntheir numerous foes; and within the walls themselves, the travelers\nlooked down upon men still drowsy with a night of vigilance. Toward the\nsoutheast, but in immediate contact with the fort, was an entrenched\ncamp, posted on a rocky eminence, that would have been far more eligible\nfor the work itself, in which Hawkeye pointed out the presence of\nthose auxiliary regiments that had so recently left the Hudson in their\ncompany. From the woods, a little further to the south, rose numerous\ndark and lurid smokes, that were easily to be distinguished from the\npurer exhalations of the springs, and which the scout also showed to\nHeyward, as evidences that the enemy lay in force in that direction.\n\nBut the spectacle which most concerned the young soldier was on the\nwestern bank of the lake, though quite near to its southern termination.\nOn a strip of land, which appeared from his stand too narrow to contain\nsuch an army, but which, in truth, extended many hundreds of yards from\nthe shores of the Horican to the base of the mountain, were to be seen\nthe white tents and military engines of an encampment of ten thousand\nmen. Batteries were already thrown up in their front, and even while the\nspectators above them were looking down, with such different emotions,\non a scene which lay like a map beneath their feet, the roar of\nartillery rose from the valley, and passed off in thundering echoes\nalong the eastern hills.\n\n\"Morning is just touching them below,\" said the deliberate and musing\nscout, \"and the watchers have a mind to wake up the sleepers by the\nsound of cannon. We are a few hours too late! Montcalm has already\nfilled the woods with his accursed Iroquois.\"\n\n\"The place is, indeed, invested,\" returned Duncan; \"but is there no\nexpedient by which we may enter? capture in the works would be far\npreferable to falling again into the hands of roving Indians.\"\n\n\"See!\" exclaimed the scout, unconsciously directing the attention of\nCora to the quarters of her own father, \"how that shot has made the\nstones fly from the side of the commandant's house! Ay! these Frenchers\nwill pull it to pieces faster than it was put together, solid and thick\nthough it be!\"\n\n\"Heyward, I sicken at the sight of danger that I cannot share,\" said\nthe undaunted but anxious daughter. \"Let us go to Montcalm, and demand\nadmission: he dare not deny a child the boon.\"\n\n\"You would scarce find the tent of the Frenchman with the hair on your\nhead\"; said the blunt scout. \"If I had but one of the thousand boats\nwhich lie empty along that shore, it might be done! Ha! here will soon\nbe an end of the firing, for yonder comes a fog that will turn day to\nnight, and make an Indian arrow more dangerous than a molded cannon.\nNow, if you are equal to the work, and will follow, I will make a push;\nfor I long to get down into that camp, if it be only to scatter some\nMingo dogs that I see lurking in the skirts of yonder thicket of birch.\"\n\n\"We are equal,\" said Cora, firmly; \"on such an errand we will follow to\nany danger.\"\n\nThe scout turned to her with a smile of honest and cordial approbation,\nas he answered:\n\n\"I would I had a thousand men, of brawny limbs and quick eyes, that\nfeared death as little as you! I'd send them jabbering Frenchers back\ninto their den again, afore the week was ended, howling like so many\nfettered hounds or hungry wolves. But, sir,\" he added, turning from her\nto the rest of the party, \"the fog comes rolling down so fast, we shall\nhave but just the time to meet it on the plain, and use it as a cover.\nRemember, if any accident should befall me, to keep the air blowing on\nyour left cheeks--or, rather, follow the Mohicans; they'd scent their\nway, be it in day or be it at night.\"\n\nHe then waved his hand for them to follow, and threw himself down the\nsteep declivity, with free, but careful footsteps. Heyward assisted\nthe sisters to descend, and in a few minutes they were all far down a\nmountain whose sides they had climbed with so much toil and pain.\n\nThe direction taken by Hawkeye soon brought the travelers to the level\nof the plain, nearly opposite to a sally-port in the western curtain of\nthe fort, which lay itself at the distance of about half a mile from\nthe point where he halted to allow Duncan to come up with his charge.\nIn their eagerness, and favored by the nature of the ground, they had\nanticipated the fog, which was rolling heavily down the lake, and it\nbecame necessary to pause, until the mists had wrapped the camp of the\nenemy in their fleecy mantle. The Mohicans profited by the delay, to\nsteal out of the woods, and to make a survey of surrounding objects.\nThey were followed at a little distance by the scout, with a view to\nprofit early by their report, and to obtain some faint knowledge for\nhimself of the more immediate localities.\n\nIn a very few moments he returned, his face reddened with vexation,\nwhile he muttered his disappointment in words of no very gentle import.\n\n\"Here has the cunning Frenchman been posting a picket directly in our\npath,\" he said; \"red-skins and whites; and we shall be as likely to fall\ninto their midst as to pass them in the fog!\"\n\n\"Cannot we make a circuit to avoid the danger,\" asked Heyward, \"and come\ninto our path again when it is passed?\"\n\n\"Who that once bends from the line of his march in a fog can tell when\nor how to find it again! The mists of Horican are not like the curls\nfrom a peace-pipe, or the smoke which settles above a mosquito fire.\"\n\nHe was yet speaking, when a crashing sound was heard, and a cannon-ball\nentered the thicket, striking the body of a sapling, and rebounding to\nthe earth, its force being much expended by previous resistance.\nThe Indians followed instantly like busy attendants on the terrible\nmessenger, and Uncas commenced speaking earnestly and with much action,\nin the Delaware tongue.\n\n\"It may be so, lad,\" muttered the scout, when he had ended; \"for\ndesperate fevers are not to be treated like a toothache. Come, then, the\nfog is shutting in.\"\n\n\"Stop!\" cried Heyward; \"first explain your expectations.\"\n\n\"'Tis soon done, and a small hope it is; but it is better than nothing.\nThis shot that you see,\" added the scout, kicking the harmless iron with\nhis foot, \"has plowed the 'arth in its road from the fort, and we shall\nhunt for the furrow it has made, when all other signs may fail. No more\nwords, but follow, or the fog may leave us in the middle of our path, a\nmark for both armies to shoot at.\"\n\nHeyward perceiving that, in fact, a crisis had arrived, when acts were\nmore required than words, placed himself between the sisters, and drew\nthem swiftly forward, keeping the dim figure of their leader in his eye.\nIt was soon apparent that Hawkeye had not magnified the power of the\nfog, for before they had proceeded twenty yards, it was difficult for\nthe different individuals of the party to distinguish each other in the\nvapor.\n\nThey had made their little circuit to the left, and were already\ninclining again toward the right, having, as Heyward thought, got over\nnearly half the distance to the friendly works, when his ears were\nsaluted with the fierce summons, apparently within twenty feet of them,\nof:\n\n\"Qui va la?\"\n\n\"Push on!\" whispered the scout, once more bending to the left.\n\n\"Push on!\" repeated Heyward; when the summons was renewed by a dozen\nvoices, each of which seemed charged with menace.\n\n\"C'est moi,\" cried Duncan, dragging rather than leading those he\nsupported swiftly onward.\n\n\"Bete!--qui?--moi!\"\n\n\"Ami de la France.\"\n\n\"Tu m'as plus l'air d'un ennemi de la France; arrete ou pardieu je te\nferai ami du diable. Non! feu, camarades, feu!\"\n\nThe order was instantly obeyed, and the fog was stirred by the explosion\nof fifty muskets. Happily, the aim was bad, and the bullets cut the\nair in a direction a little different from that taken by the fugitives;\nthough still so nigh them, that to the unpractised ears of David and the\ntwo females, it appeared as if they whistled within a few inches of the\norgans. The outcry was renewed, and the order, not only to fire again,\nbut to pursue, was too plainly audible. When Heyward briefly explained\nthe meaning of the words they heard, Hawkeye halted and spoke with quick\ndecision and great firmness.\n\n\"Let us deliver our fire,\" he said; \"they will believe it a sortie, and\ngive way, or they will wait for reinforcements.\"\n\nThe scheme was well conceived, but failed in its effects. The instant\nthe French heard the pieces, it seemed as if the plain was alive with\nmen, muskets rattling along its whole extent, from the shores of the\nlake to the furthest boundary of the woods.\n\n\"We shall draw their entire army upon us, and bring on a general\nassault,\" said Duncan: \"lead on, my friend, for your own life and ours.\"\n\nThe scout seemed willing to comply; but, in the hurry of the moment, and\nin the change of position, he had lost the direction. In vain he turned\neither cheek toward the light air; they felt equally cool. In this\ndilemma, Uncas lighted on the furrow of the cannon ball, where it had\ncut the ground in three adjacent ant-hills.\n\n\"Give me the range!\" said Hawkeye, bending to catch a glimpse of the\ndirection, and then instantly moving onward.\n\nCries, oaths, voices calling to each other, and the reports of muskets,\nwere now quick and incessant, and, apparently, on every side of them.\nSuddenly a strong glare of light flashed across the scene, the fog\nrolled upward in thick wreaths, and several cannons belched across the\nplain, and the roar was thrown heavily back from the bellowing echoes of\nthe mountain.\n\n\"'Tis from the fort!\" exclaimed Hawkeye, turning short on his tracks;\n\"and we, like stricken fools, were rushing to the woods, under the very\nknives of the Maquas.\"\n\nThe instant their mistake was rectified, the whole party retraced the\nerror with the utmost diligence. Duncan willingly relinquished the\nsupport of Cora to the arm of Uncas and Cora as readily accepted the\nwelcome assistance. Men, hot and angry in pursuit, were evidently on\ntheir footsteps, and each instant threatened their capture, if not their\ndestruction.\n\n\"Point de quartier aux coquins!\" cried an eager pursuer, who seemed to\ndirect the operations of the enemy.\n\n\"Stand firm, and be ready, my gallant Sixtieths!\" suddenly exclaimed\na voice above them; \"wait to see the enemy, fire low and sweep the\nglacis.\"\n\n\"Father! father!\" exclaimed a piercing cry from out the mist: \"it is I!\nAlice! thy own Elsie! Spare, oh! save your daughters!\"\n\n\"Hold!\" shouted the former speaker, in the awful tones of parental\nagony, the sound reaching even to the woods, and rolling back in solemn\necho. \"'Tis she! God has restored me to my children! Throw open the\nsally-port; to the field, Sixtieths, to the field; pull not a trigger,\nlest ye kill my lambs! Drive off these dogs of France with your steel.\"\n\nDuncan heard the grating of the rusty hinges, and darting to the spot,\ndirected by the sound, he met a long line of dark red warriors, passing\nswiftly toward the glacis. He knew them for his own battalion of the\nRoyal Americans, and flying to their head, soon swept every trace of his\npursuers from before the works.\n\nFor an instant, Cora and Alice had stood trembling and bewildered by\nthis unexpected desertion; but before either had leisure for speech, or\neven thought, an officer of gigantic frame, whose locks were bleached\nwith years and service, but whose air of military grandeur had been\nrather softened than destroyed by time, rushed out of the body of mist,\nand folded them to his bosom, while large scalding tears rolled down his\npale and wrinkled cheeks, and he exclaimed, in the peculiar accent of\nScotland:\n\n\"For this I thank thee, Lord! Let danger come as it will, thy servant is\nnow prepared!\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 15\n\n     \"Then go we in, to know his embassy;\n     Which I could, with ready guess, declare,\n     Before the Frenchmen speak a word of it.\"\n     --King Henry V\n\nA few succeeding days were passed amid the privations, the uproar,\nand the dangers of the siege, which was vigorously pressed by a\npower, against whose approaches Munro possessed no competent means of\nresistance. It appeared as if Webb, with his army, which lay slumbering\non the banks of the Hudson, had utterly forgotten the strait to which\nhis countrymen were reduced. Montcalm had filled the woods of the\nportage with his savages, every yell and whoop from whom rang through\nthe British encampment, chilling the hearts of men who were already but\ntoo much disposed to magnify the danger.\n\nNot so, however, with the besieged. Animated by the words, and\nstimulated by the examples of their leaders, they had found their\ncourage, and maintained their ancient reputation, with a zeal that did\njustice to the stern character of their commander. As if satisfied with\nthe toil of marching through the wilderness to encounter his enemy, the\nFrench general, though of approved skill, had neglected to seize the\nadjacent mountains; whence the besieged might have been exterminated\nwith impunity, and which, in the more modern warfare of the country,\nwould not have been neglected for a single hour. This sort of contempt\nfor eminences, or rather dread of the labor of ascending them, might\nhave been termed the besetting weakness of the warfare of the period. It\noriginated in the simplicity of the Indian contests, in which, from the\nnature of the combats, and the density of the forests, fortresses were\nrare, and artillery next to useless. The carelessness engendered by\nthese usages descended even to the war of the Revolution and lost the\nStates the important fortress of Ticonderoga opening a way for the army\nof Burgoyne into what was then the bosom of the country. We look back at\nthis ignorance, or infatuation, whichever it may be called, with wonder,\nknowing that the neglect of an eminence, whose difficulties, like those\nof Mount Defiance, have been so greatly exaggerated, would, at the\npresent time, prove fatal to the reputation of the engineer who had\nplanned the works at their base, or to that of the general whose lot it\nwas to defend them.\n\nThe tourist, the valetudinarian, or the amateur of the beauties of\nnature, who, in the train of his four-in-hand, now rolls through the\nscenes we have attempted to describe, in quest of information, health,\nor pleasure, or floats steadily toward his object on those artificial\nwaters which have sprung up under the administration of a statesman* who\nhas dared to stake his political character on the hazardous issue, is\nnot to suppose that his ancestors traversed those hills, or struggled\nwith the same currents with equal facility. The transportation of a\nsingle heavy gun was often considered equal to a victory gained; if\nhappily, the difficulties of the passage had not so far separated it\nfrom its necessary concomitant, the ammunition, as to render it no more\nthan a useless tube of unwieldy iron.\n\n     * Evidently the late De Witt Clinton, who died governor of\n     New York in 1828.\n\nThe evils of this state of things pressed heavily on the fortunes of the\nresolute Scotsman who now defended William Henry. Though his adversary\nneglected the hills, he had planted his batteries with judgment on the\nplain, and caused them to be served with vigor and skill. Against\nthis assault, the besieged could only oppose the imperfect and hasty\npreparations of a fortress in the wilderness.\n\nIt was in the afternoon of the fifth day of the siege, and the fourth of\nhis own service in it, that Major Heyward profited by a parley that\nhad just been beaten, by repairing to the ramparts of one of the water\nbastions, to breathe the cool air from the lake, and to take a survey\nof the progress of the siege. He was alone, if the solitary sentinel who\npaced the mound be excepted; for the artillerists had hastened also to\nprofit by the temporary suspension of their arduous duties. The evening\nwas delightfully calm, and the light air from the limpid water fresh and\nsoothing. It seemed as if, with the termination of the roar of artillery\nand the plunging of shot, nature had also seized the moment to assume\nher mildest and most captivating form. The sun poured down his parting\nglory on the scene, without the oppression of those fierce rays that\nbelong to the climate and the season. The mountains looked green,\nand fresh, and lovely, tempered with the milder light, or softened in\nshadow, as thin vapors floated between them and the sun. The numerous\nislands rested on the bosom of the Horican, some low and sunken, as if\nembedded in the waters, and others appearing to hover about the element,\nin little hillocks of green velvet; among which the fishermen of the\nbeleaguering army peacefully rowed their skiffs, or floated at rest on\nthe glassy mirror in quiet pursuit of their employment.\n\nThe scene was at once animated and still. All that pertained to nature\nwas sweet, or simply grand; while those parts which depended on the\ntemper and movements of man were lively and playful.\n\nTwo little spotless flags were abroad, the one on a salient angle of the\nfort, and the other on the advanced battery of the besiegers; emblems of\nthe truth which existed, not only to the acts, but it would seem, also,\nto the enmity of the combatants.\n\nBehind these again swung, heavily opening and closing in silken folds,\nthe rival standards of England and France.\n\nA hundred gay and thoughtless young Frenchmen were drawing a net to the\npebbly beach, within dangerous proximity to the sullen but silent cannon\nof the fort, while the eastern mountain was sending back the loud shouts\nand gay merriment that attended their sport. Some were rushing eagerly\nto enjoy the aquatic games of the lake, and others were already toiling\ntheir way up the neighboring hills, with the restless curiosity of their\nnation. To all these sports and pursuits, those of the enemy who watched\nthe besieged, and the besieged themselves, were, however, merely the\nidle though sympathizing spectators. Here and there a picket had,\nindeed, raised a song, or mingled in a dance, which had drawn the\ndusky savages around them, from their lairs in the forest. In short,\neverything wore rather the appearance of a day of pleasure, than of\nan hour stolen from the dangers and toil of a bloody and vindictive\nwarfare.\n\nDuncan had stood in a musing attitude, contemplating this scene a few\nminutes, when his eyes were directed to the glacis in front of the\nsally-port already mentioned, by the sounds of approaching footsteps. He\nwalked to an angle of the bastion, and beheld the scout advancing,\nunder the custody of a French officer, to the body of the fort. The\ncountenance of Hawkeye was haggard and careworn, and his air dejected,\nas though he felt the deepest degradation at having fallen into the\npower of his enemies. He was without his favorite weapon, and his arms\nwere even bound behind him with thongs, made of the skin of a deer. The\narrival of flags to cover the messengers of summons, had occurred so\noften of late, that when Heyward first threw his careless glance on this\ngroup, he expected to see another of the officers of the enemy, charged\nwith a similar office but the instant he recognized the tall person and\nstill sturdy though downcast features of his friend, the woodsman, he\nstarted with surprise, and turned to descend from the bastion into the\nbosom of the work.\n\nThe sounds of other voices, however, caught his attention, and for a\nmoment caused him to forget his purpose. At the inner angle of the mound\nhe met the sisters, walking along the parapet, in search, like himself,\nof air and relief from confinement. They had not met from that painful\nmoment when he deserted them on the plain, only to assure their safety.\nHe had parted from them worn with care, and jaded with fatigue; he now\nsaw them refreshed and blooming, though timid and anxious. Under such an\ninducement it will cause no surprise that the young man lost sight for\na time, of other objects in order to address them. He was, however,\nanticipated by the voice of the ingenuous and youthful Alice.\n\n\"Ah! thou tyrant! thou recreant knight! he who abandons his damsels\nin the very lists,\" she cried; \"here have we been days, nay, ages,\nexpecting you at our feet, imploring mercy and forgetfulness of your\ncraven backsliding, or I should rather say, backrunning--for verily you\nfled in the manner that no stricken deer, as our worthy friend the scout\nwould say, could equal!\"\n\n\"You know that Alice means our thanks and our blessings,\" added the\ngraver and more thoughtful Cora. \"In truth, we have a little wonder why\nyou should so rigidly absent yourself from a place where the gratitude\nof the daughters might receive the support of a parent's thanks.\"\n\n\"Your father himself could tell you, that, though absent from your\npresence, I have not been altogether forgetful of your safety,\" returned\nthe young man; \"the mastery of yonder village of huts,\" pointing to the\nneighboring entrenched camp, \"has been keenly disputed; and he who holds\nit is sure to be possessed of this fort, and that which it contains. My\ndays and nights have all been passed there since we separated, because\nI thought that duty called me thither. But,\" he added, with an air of\nchagrin, which he endeavored, though unsuccessfully, to conceal, \"had\nI been aware that what I then believed a soldier's conduct could be so\nconstrued, shame would have been added to the list of reasons.\"\n\n\"Heyward! Duncan!\" exclaimed Alice, bending forward to read his\nhalf-averted countenance, until a lock of her golden hair rested on her\nflushed cheek, and nearly concealed the tear that had started to her\neye; \"did I think this idle tongue of mine had pained you, I would\nsilence it forever. Cora can say, if Cora would, how justly we have\nprized your services, and how deep--I had almost said, how fervent--is\nour gratitude.\"\n\n\"And will Cora attest the truth of this?\" cried Duncan, suffering the\ncloud to be chased from his countenance by a smile of open pleasure.\n\"What says our graver sister? Will she find an excuse for the neglect of\nthe knight in the duty of a soldier?\"\n\nCora made no immediate answer, but turned her face toward the water, as\nif looking on the sheet of the Horican. When she did bend her dark eyes\non the young man, they were yet filled with an expression of anguish\nthat at once drove every thought but that of kind solicitude from his\nmind.\n\n\"You are not well, dearest Miss Munro!\" he exclaimed; \"we have trifled\nwhile you are in suffering!\"\n\n\"'Tis nothing,\" she answered, refusing his support with feminine\nreserve. \"That I cannot see the sunny side of the picture of life, like\nthis artless but ardent enthusiast,\" she added, laying her hand lightly,\nbut affectionately, on the arm of her sister, \"is the penalty of\nexperience, and, perhaps, the misfortune of my nature. See,\" she\ncontinued, as if determined to shake off infirmity, in a sense of duty;\n\"look around you, Major Heyward, and tell me what a prospect is this for\nthe daughter of a soldier whose greatest happiness is his honor and his\nmilitary renown.\"\n\n\"Neither ought nor shall be tarnished by circumstances over which he has\nhad no control,\" Duncan warmly replied. \"But your words recall me to my\nown duty. I go now to your gallant father, to hear his determination\nin matters of the last moment to the defense. God bless you in every\nfortune, noble--Cora--I may and must call you.\" She frankly gave him her\nhand, though her lip quivered, and her cheeks gradually became of ashly\npaleness. \"In every fortune, I know you will be an ornament and honor\nto your sex. Alice, adieu\"--his voice changed from admiration to\ntenderness--\"adieu, Alice; we shall soon meet again; as conquerors, I\ntrust, and amid rejoicings!\"\n\nWithout waiting for an answer from either, the young man threw himself\ndown the grassy steps of the bastion, and moving rapidly across the\nparade, he was quickly in the presence of their father. Munro was pacing\nhis narrow apartment with a disturbed air and gigantic strides as Duncan\nentered.\n\n\"You have anticipated my wishes, Major Heyward,\" he said; \"I was about\nto request this favor.\"\n\n\"I am sorry to see, sir, that the messenger I so warmly recommended has\nreturned in custody of the French! I hope there is no reason to distrust\nhis fidelity?\"\n\n\"The fidelity of 'The Long Rifle' is well known to me,\" returned Munro,\n\"and is above suspicion; though his usual good fortune seems, at last,\nto have failed. Montcalm has got him, and with the accursed politeness\nof his nation, he has sent him in with a doleful tale, of 'knowing how\nI valued the fellow, he could not think of retaining him.' A Jesuitical\nway that, Major Duncan Heyward, of telling a man of his misfortunes!\"\n\n\"But the general and his succor?\"\n\n\"Did ye look to the south as ye entered, and could ye not see them?\"\nsaid the old soldier, laughing bitterly.\n\n\"Hoot! hoot! you're an impatient boy, sir, and cannot give the gentlemen\nleisure for their march!\"\n\n\"They are coming, then? The scout has said as much?\"\n\n\"When? and by what path? for the dunce has omitted to tell me this.\nThere is a letter, it would seem, too; and that is the only agreeable\npart of the matter. For the customary attentions of your Marquis of\nMontcalm--I warrant me, Duncan, that he of Lothian would buy a dozen\nsuch marquisates--but if the news of the letter were bad, the gentility\nof this French monsieur would certainly compel him to let us know it.\"\n\n\"He keeps the letter, then, while he releases the messenger?\"\n\n\"Ay, that does he, and all for the sake of what you call your\n'bonhommie' I would venture, if the truth was known, the fellow's\ngrandfather taught the noble science of dancing.\"\n\n\"But what says the scout? he has eyes and ears, and a tongue. What\nverbal report does he make?\"\n\n\"Oh! sir, he is not wanting in natural organs, and he is free to tell\nall that he has seen and heard. The whole amount is this; there is a\nfort of his majesty's on the banks of the Hudson, called Edward, in\nhonor of his gracious highness of York, you'll know; and it is well\nfilled with armed men, as such a work should be.\"\n\n\"But was there no movement, no signs of any intention to advance to our\nrelief?\"\n\n\"There were the morning and evening parades; and when one of the\nprovincial loons--you'll know, Duncan, you're half a Scotsman\nyourself--when one of them dropped his powder over his porretch, if it\ntouched the coals, it just burned!\" Then, suddenly changing his bitter,\nironical manner, to one more grave and thoughtful, he continued: \"and\nyet there might, and must be, something in that letter which it would be\nwell to know!\"\n\n\"Our decision should be speedy,\" said Duncan, gladly availing himself\nof this change of humor, to press the more important objects of their\ninterview; \"I cannot conceal from you, sir, that the camp will not be\nmuch longer tenable; and I am sorry to add, that things appear no better\nin the fort; more than half the guns are bursted.\"\n\n\"And how should it be otherwise? Some were fished from the bottom of\nthe lake; some have been rusting in woods since the discovery of\nthe country; and some were never guns at all--mere privateersmen's\nplaythings! Do you think, sir, you can have Woolwich Warren in the midst\nof a wilderness, three thousand miles from Great Britain?\"\n\n\"The walls are crumbling about our ears, and provisions begin to fail\nus,\" continued Heyward, without regarding the new burst of indignation;\n\"even the men show signs of discontent and alarm.\"\n\n\"Major Heyward,\" said Munro, turning to his youthful associate with\nthe dignity of his years and superior rank; \"I should have served his\nmajesty for half a century, and earned these gray hairs in vain, were\nI ignorant of all you say, and of the pressing nature of our\ncircumstances; still, there is everything due to the honor of the king's\narms, and something to ourselves. While there is hope of succor, this\nfortress will I defend, though it be to be done with pebbles gathered\non the lake shore. It is a sight of the letter, therefore, that we want,\nthat we may know the intentions of the man the earl of Loudon has left\namong us as his substitute.\"\n\n\"And can I be of service in the matter?\"\n\n\"Sir, you can; the marquis of Montcalm has, in addition to his other\ncivilities, invited me to a personal interview between the works and his\nown camp; in order, as he says, to impart some additional information.\nNow, I think it would not be wise to show any undue solicitude to meet\nhim, and I would employ you, an officer of rank, as my substitute; for\nit would but ill comport with the honor of Scotland to let it be said\none of her gentlemen was outdone in civility by a native of any other\ncountry on earth.\"\n\nWithout assuming the supererogatory task of entering into a discussion\nof the comparative merits of national courtesy, Duncan cheerfully\nassented to supply the place of the veteran in the approaching\ninterview. A long and confidential communication now succeeded, during\nwhich the young man received some additional insight into his duty,\nfrom the experience and native acuteness of his commander, and then the\nformer took his leave.\n\nAs Duncan could only act as the representative of the commandant of the\nfort, the ceremonies which should have accompanied a meeting between the\nheads of the adverse forces were, of course, dispensed with. The truce\nstill existed, and with a roll and beat of the drum, and covered by a\nlittle white flag, Duncan left the sally-port, within ten minutes after\nhis instructions were ended. He was received by the French officer in\nadvance with the usual formalities, and immediately accompanied to a\ndistant marquee of the renowned soldier who led the forces of France.\n\nThe general of the enemy received the youthful messenger, surrounded by\nhis principal officers, and by a swarthy band of the native chiefs,\nwho had followed him to the field, with the warriors of their several\ntribes. Heyward paused short, when, in glancing his eyes rapidly over\nthe dark group of the latter, he beheld the malignant countenance of\nMagua, regarding him with the calm but sullen attention which marked the\nexpression of that subtle savage. A slight exclamation of surprise even\nburst from the lips of the young man, but instantly, recollecting\nhis errand, and the presence in which he stood, he suppressed every\nappearance of emotion, and turned to the hostile leader, who had already\nadvanced a step to receive him.\n\nThe marquis of Montcalm was, at the period of which we write, in the\nflower of his age, and, it may be added, in the zenith of his fortunes.\nBut even in that enviable situation, he was affable, and distinguished\nas much for his attention to the forms of courtesy, as for that\nchivalrous courage which, only two short years afterward, induced him\nto throw away his life on the plains of Abraham. Duncan, in turning his\neyes from the malign expression of Magua, suffered them to rest with\npleasure on the smiling and polished features, and the noble military\nair, of the French general.\n\n\"Monsieur,\" said the latter, \"j'ai beaucoup de plaisir a--bah!--ou est\ncet interprete?\"\n\n\"Je crois, monsieur, qu'il ne sear pas necessaire,\" Heyward modestly\nreplied; \"je parle un peu francais.\"\n\n\"Ah! j'en suis bien aise,\" said Montcalm, taking Duncan familiarly by\nthe arm, and leading him deep into the marquee, a little out of earshot;\n\"je deteste ces fripons-la; on ne sait jamais sur quel pie on est avec\neux. Eh, bien! monsieur,\" he continued still speaking in French; \"though\nI should have been proud of receiving your commandant, I am very happy\nthat he has seen proper to employ an officer so distinguished, and who,\nI am sure, is so amiable, as yourself.\"\n\nDuncan bowed low, pleased with the compliment, in spite of a most heroic\ndetermination to suffer no artifice to allure him into forgetfulness of\nthe interest of his prince; and Montcalm, after a pause of a moment, as\nif to collect his thoughts, proceeded:\n\n\"Your commandant is a brave man, and well qualified to repel my\nassault. Mais, monsieur, is it not time to begin to take more counsel\nof humanity, and less of your courage? The one as strongly characterizes\nthe hero as the other.\"\n\n\"We consider the qualities as inseparable,\" returned Duncan, smiling;\n\"but while we find in the vigor of your excellency every motive to\nstimulate the one, we can, as yet, see no particular call for the\nexercise of the other.\"\n\nMontcalm, in his turn, slightly bowed, but it was with the air of a\nman too practised to remember the language of flattery. After musing a\nmoment, he added:\n\n\"It is possible my glasses have deceived me, and that your works resist\nour cannon better than I had supposed. You know our force?\"\n\n\"Our accounts vary,\" said Duncan, carelessly; \"the highest, however, has\nnot exceeded twenty thousand men.\"\n\nThe Frenchman bit his lip, and fastened his eyes keenly on the other as\nif to read his thoughts; then, with a readiness peculiar to himself, he\ncontinued, as if assenting to the truth of an enumeration which quite\ndoubled his army:\n\n\"It is a poor compliment to the vigilance of us soldiers, monsieur,\nthat, do what we will, we never can conceal our numbers. If it were\nto be done at all, one would believe it might succeed in these woods.\nThough you think it too soon to listen to the calls of humanity,\" he\nadded, smiling archly, \"I may be permitted to believe that gallantry\nis not forgotten by one so young as yourself. The daughters of the\ncommandant, I learn, have passed into the fort since it was invested?\"\n\n\"It is true, monsieur; but, so far from weakening our efforts, they\nset us an example of courage in their own fortitude. Were nothing\nbut resolution necessary to repel so accomplished a soldier as M. de\nMontcalm, I would gladly trust the defense of William Henry to the elder\nof those ladies.\"\n\n\"We have a wise ordinance in our Salique laws, which says, 'The crown\nof France shall never degrade the lance to the distaff',\" said Montcalm,\ndryly, and with a little hauteur; but instantly adding, with his former\nfrank and easy air: \"as all the nobler qualities are hereditary, I can\neasily credit you; though, as I said before, courage has its limits, and\nhumanity must not be forgotten. I trust, monsieur, you come authorized\nto treat for the surrender of the place?\"\n\n\"Has your excellency found our defense so feeble as to believe the\nmeasure necessary?\"\n\n\"I should be sorry to have the defense protracted in such a manner as to\nirritate my red friends there,\" continued Montcalm, glancing his eyes\nat the group of grave and attentive Indians, without attending to the\nother's questions; \"I find it difficult, even now, to limit them to the\nusages of war.\"\n\nHeyward was silent; for a painful recollection of the dangers he had so\nrecently escaped came over his mind, and recalled the images of those\ndefenseless beings who had shared in all his sufferings.\n\n\"Ces messieurs-la,\" said Montcalm, following up the advantage which he\nconceived he had gained, \"are most formidable when baffled; and it is\nunnecessary to tell you with what difficulty they are restrained in\ntheir anger. Eh bien, monsieur! shall we speak of the terms?\"\n\n\"I fear your excellency has been deceived as to the strength of William\nHenry, and the resources of its garrison!\"\n\n\"I have not sat down before Quebec, but an earthen work, that is\ndefended by twenty-three hundred gallant men,\" was the laconic reply.\n\n\"Our mounds are earthen, certainly--nor are they seated on the rocks of\nCape Diamond; but they stand on that shore which proved so destructive\nto Dieskau and his army. There is also a powerful force within a few\nhours' march of us, which we account upon as a part of our means.\"\n\n\"Some six or eight thousand men,\" returned Montcalm, with much apparent\nindifference, \"whom their leader wisely judges to be safer in their\nworks than in the field.\"\n\nIt was now Heyward's turn to bite his lip with vexation as the other so\ncoolly alluded to a force which the young man knew to be overrated. Both\nmused a little while in silence, when Montcalm renewed the conversation,\nin a way that showed he believed the visit of his guest was solely to\npropose terms of capitulation. On the other hand, Heyward began to\nthrow sundry inducements in the way of the French general, to betray the\ndiscoveries he had made through the intercepted letter. The artifice\nof neither, however, succeeded; and after a protracted and fruitless\ninterview, Duncan took his leave, favorably impressed with an opinion of\nthe courtesy and talents of the enemy's captain, but as ignorant of what\nhe came to learn as when he arrived. Montcalm followed him as far as the\nentrance of the marquee, renewing his invitations to the commandant of\nthe fort to give him an immediate meeting in the open ground between the\ntwo armies.\n\nThere they separated, and Duncan returned to the advanced post of the\nFrench, accompanied as before; whence he instantly proceeded to the\nfort, and to the quarters of his own commander.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 16\n\n     \"EDG.--Before you fight the battle ope this letter.\"\n     --Lear\n\nMajor Heyward found Munro attended only by his daughters. Alice sat upon\nhis knee, parting the gray hairs on the forehead of the old man with\nher delicate fingers; and whenever he affected to frown on her trifling,\nappeasing his assumed anger by pressing her ruby lips fondly on his\nwrinkled brow. Cora was seated nigh them, a calm and amused looker-on;\nregarding the wayward movements of her more youthful sister with that\nspecies of maternal fondness which characterized her love for Alice. Not\nonly the dangers through which they had passed, but those which still\nimpended above them, appeared to be momentarily forgotten, in the\nsoothing indulgence of such a family meeting. It seemed as if they had\nprofited by the short truce, to devote an instant to the purest and best\naffection; the daughters forgetting their fears, and the veteran his\ncares, in the security of the moment. Of this scene, Duncan, who, in\nhis eagerness to report his arrival, had entered unannounced, stood\nmany moments an unobserved and a delighted spectator. But the quick and\ndancing eyes of Alice soon caught a glimpse of his figure reflected\nfrom a glass, and she sprang blushing from her father's knee, exclaiming\naloud:\n\n\"Major Heyward!\"\n\n\"What of the lad?\" demanded her father; \"I have sent him to crack a\nlittle with the Frenchman. Ha, sir, you are young, and you're nimble!\nAway with you, ye baggage; as if there were not troubles enough for a\nsoldier, without having his camp filled with such prattling hussies as\nyourself!\"\n\nAlice laughingly followed her sister, who instantly led the way from an\napartment where she perceived their presence was no longer desirable.\nMunro, instead of demanding the result of the young man's mission, paced\nthe room for a few moments, with his hands behind his back, and his\nhead inclined toward the floor, like a man lost in thought. At length he\nraised his eyes, glistening with a father's fondness, and exclaimed:\n\n\"They are a pair of excellent girls, Heyward, and such as any one may\nboast of.\"\n\n\"You are not now to learn my opinion of your daughters, Colonel Munro.\"\n\n\"True, lad, true,\" interrupted the impatient old man; \"you were about\nopening your mind more fully on that matter the day you got in, but I\ndid not think it becoming in an old soldier to be talking of nuptial\nblessings and wedding jokes when the enemies of his king were likely\nto be unbidden guests at the feast. But I was wrong, Duncan, boy, I was\nwrong there; and I am now ready to hear what you have to say.\"\n\n\"Notwithstanding the pleasure your assurance gives me, dear sir, I have\njust now, a message from Montcalm--\"\n\n\"Let the Frenchman and all his host go to the devil, sir!\" exclaimed the\nhasty veteran. \"He is not yet master of William Henry, nor shall he\never be, provided Webb proves himself the man he should. No, sir, thank\nHeaven we are not yet in such a strait that it can be said Munro is too\nmuch pressed to discharge the little domestic duties of his own family.\nYour mother was the only child of my bosom friend, Duncan; and I'll just\ngive you a hearing, though all the knights of St. Louis were in a body\nat the sally-port, with the French saint at their head, crying to speak\na word under favor. A pretty degree of knighthood, sir, is that which\ncan be bought with sugar hogsheads! and then your twopenny marquisates.\nThe thistle is the order for dignity and antiquity; the veritable\n'nemo me impune lacessit' of chivalry. Ye had ancestors in that degree,\nDuncan, and they were an ornament to the nobles of Scotland.\"\n\nHeyward, who perceived that his superior took a malicious pleasure in\nexhibiting his contempt for the message of the French general, was\nfain to humor a spleen that he knew would be short-lived; he therefore,\nreplied with as much indifference as he could assume on such a subject:\n\n\"My request, as you know, sir, went so far as to presume to the honor of\nbeing your son.\"\n\n\"Ay, boy, you found words to make yourself very plainly comprehended.\nBut, let me ask ye, sir, have you been as intelligible to the girl?\"\n\n\"On my honor, no,\" exclaimed Duncan, warmly; \"there would have been an\nabuse of a confided trust, had I taken advantage of my situation for\nsuch a purpose.\"\n\n\"Your notions are those of a gentleman, Major Heyward, and well enough\nin their place. But Cora Munro is a maiden too discreet, and of a mind\ntoo elevated and improved, to need the guardianship even of a father.\"\n\n\"Cora!\"\n\n\"Ay--Cora! we are talking of your pretensions to Miss Munro, are we not,\nsir?\"\n\n\"I--I--I was not conscious of having mentioned her name,\" said Duncan,\nstammering.\n\n\"And to marry whom, then, did you wish my consent, Major Heyward?\"\ndemanded the old soldier, erecting himself in the dignity of offended\nfeeling.\n\n\"You have another, and not less lovely child.\"\n\n\"Alice!\" exclaimed the father, in an astonishment equal to that with\nwhich Duncan had just repeated the name of her sister.\n\n\"Such was the direction of my wishes, sir.\"\n\nThe young man awaited in silence the result of the extraordinary\neffect produced by a communication, which, as it now appeared, was so\nunexpected. For several minutes Munro paced the chamber with long\nand rapid strides, his rigid features working convulsively, and every\nfaculty seemingly absorbed in the musings of his own mind. At length, he\npaused directly in front of Heyward, and riveting his eyes upon those of\nthe other, he said, with a lip that quivered violently:\n\n\"Duncan Heyward, I have loved you for the sake of him whose blood is\nin your veins; I have loved you for your own good qualities; and I have\nloved you, because I thought you would contribute to the happiness of my\nchild. But all this love would turn to hatred, were I assured that what\nI so much apprehend is true.\"\n\n\"God forbid that any act or thought of mine should lead to such a\nchange!\" exclaimed the young man, whose eye never quailed under the\npenetrating look it encountered. Without adverting to the impossibility\nof the other's comprehending those feelings which were hid in his\nown bosom, Munro suffered himself to be appeased by the unaltered\ncountenance he met, and with a voice sensibly softened, he continued:\n\n\"You would be my son, Duncan, and you're ignorant of the history of the\nman you wish to call your father. Sit ye down, young man, and I will\nopen to you the wounds of a seared heart, in as few words as may be\nsuitable.\"\n\nBy this time, the message of Montcalm was as much forgotten by him who\nbore it as by the man for whose ears it was intended. Each drew a chair,\nand while the veteran communed a few moments with his own thoughts,\napparently in sadness, the youth suppressed his impatience in a look and\nattitude of respectful attention. At length, the former spoke:\n\n\"You'll know, already, Major Heyward, that my family was both ancient\nand honorable,\" commenced the Scotsman; \"though it might not altogether\nbe endowed with that amount of wealth that should correspond with its\ndegree. I was, maybe, such an one as yourself when I plighted my faith\nto Alice Graham, the only child of a neighboring laird of some estate.\nBut the connection was disagreeable to her father, on more accounts than\nmy poverty. I did, therefore, what an honest man should--restored the\nmaiden her troth, and departed the country in the service of my king.\nI had seen many regions, and had shed much blood in different lands,\nbefore duty called me to the islands of the West Indies. There it was\nmy lot to form a connection with one who in time became my wife, and the\nmother of Cora. She was the daughter of a gentleman of those isles, by\na lady whose misfortune it was, if you will,\" said the old man, proudly,\n\"to be descended, remotely, from that unfortunate class who are so\nbasely enslaved to administer to the wants of a luxurious people. Ay,\nsir, that is a curse, entailed on Scotland by her unnatural union with a\nforeign and trading people. But could I find a man among them who would\ndare to reflect on my child, he should feel the weight of a father's\nanger! Ha! Major Heyward, you are yourself born at the south, where\nthese unfortunate beings are considered of a race inferior to your own.\"\n\n\"'Tis most unfortunately true, sir,\" said Duncan, unable any longer to\nprevent his eyes from sinking to the floor in embarrassment.\n\n\"And you cast it on my child as a reproach! You scorn to mingle the\nblood of the Heywards with one so degraded--lovely and virtuous though\nshe be?\" fiercely demanded the jealous parent.\n\n\"Heaven protect me from a prejudice so unworthy of my reason!\" returned\nDuncan, at the same time conscious of such a feeling, and that as deeply\nrooted as if it had been ingrafted in his nature. \"The sweetness, the\nbeauty, the witchery of your younger daughter, Colonel Munro, might\nexplain my motives without imputing to me this injustice.\"\n\n\"Ye are right, sir,\" returned the old man, again changing his tones to\nthose of gentleness, or rather softness; \"the girl is the image of what\nher mother was at her years, and before she had become acquainted\nwith grief. When death deprived me of my wife I returned to Scotland,\nenriched by the marriage; and, would you think it, Duncan! the suffering\nangel had remained in the heartless state of celibacy twenty long years,\nand that for the sake of a man who could forget her! She did more,\nsir; she overlooked my want of faith, and, all difficulties being now\nremoved, she took me for her husband.\"\n\n\"And became the mother of Alice?\" exclaimed Duncan, with an eagerness\nthat might have proved dangerous at a moment when the thoughts of Munro\nwere less occupied that at present.\n\n\"She did, indeed,\" said the old man, \"and dearly did she pay for the\nblessing she bestowed. But she is a saint in heaven, sir; and it ill\nbecomes one whose foot rests on the grave to mourn a lot so blessed. I\nhad her but a single year, though; a short term of happiness for one who\nhad seen her youth fade in hopeless pining.\"\n\nThere was something so commanding in the distress of the old man, that\nHeyward did not dare to venture a syllable of consolation. Munro sat\nutterly unconscious of the other's presence, his features exposed and\nworking with the anguish of his regrets, while heavy tears fell from\nhis eyes, and rolled unheeded from his cheeks to the floor. At length\nhe moved, and as if suddenly recovering his recollection; when he arose,\nand taking a single turn across the room, he approached his companion\nwith an air of military grandeur, and demanded:\n\n\"Have you not, Major Heyward, some communication that I should hear from\nthe marquis de Montcalm?\"\n\nDuncan started in his turn, and immediately commenced in an embarrassed\nvoice, the half-forgotten message. It is unnecessary to dwell upon the\nevasive though polite manner with which the French general had\neluded every attempt of Heyward to worm from him the purport of the\ncommunication he had proposed making, or on the decided, though still\npolished message, by which he now gave his enemy to understand, that,\nunless he chose to receive it in person, he should not receive it at\nall. As Munro listened to the detail of Duncan, the excited feelings of\nthe father gradually gave way before the obligations of his station,\nand when the other was done, he saw before him nothing but the veteran,\nswelling with the wounded feelings of a soldier.\n\n\"You have said enough, Major Heyward,\" exclaimed the angry old man;\n\"enough to make a volume of commentary on French civility. Here has\nthis gentleman invited me to a conference, and when I send him a capable\nsubstitute, for ye're all that, Duncan, though your years are but few,\nhe answers me with a riddle.\"\n\n\"He may have thought less favorably of the substitute, my dear sir; and\nyou will remember that the invitation, which he now repeats, was to the\ncommandant of the works, and not to his second.\"\n\n\"Well, sir, is not a substitute clothed with all the power and dignity\nof him who grants the commission? He wishes to confer with Munro! Faith,\nsir, I have much inclination to indulge the man, if it should only be to\nlet him behold the firm countenance we maintain in spite of his numbers\nand his summons. There might be not bad policy in such a stroke, young\nman.\"\n\nDuncan, who believed it of the last importance that they should speedily\ncome to the contents of the letter borne by the scout, gladly encouraged\nthis idea.\n\n\"Without doubt, he could gather no confidence by witnessing our\nindifference,\" he said.\n\n\"You never said truer word. I could wish, sir, that he would visit the\nworks in open day, and in the form of a storming party; that is the\nleast failing method of proving the countenance of an enemy, and would\nbe far preferable to the battering system he has chosen. The beauty and\nmanliness of warfare has been much deformed, Major Heyward, by the arts\nof your Monsieur Vauban. Our ancestors were far above such scientific\ncowardice!\"\n\n\"It may be very true, sir; but we are now obliged to repel art by art.\nWhat is your pleasure in the matter of the interview?\"\n\n\"I will meet the Frenchman, and that without fear or delay; promptly,\nsir, as becomes a servant of my royal master. Go, Major Heyward, and\ngive them a flourish of the music; and send out a messenger to let them\nknow who is coming. We will follow with a small guard, for such respect\nis due to one who holds the honor of his king in keeping; and hark'ee,\nDuncan,\" he added, in a half whisper, though they were alone, \"it may be\nprudent to have some aid at hand, in case there should be treachery at\nthe bottom of it all.\"\n\nThe young man availed himself of this order to quit the apartment; and,\nas the day was fast coming to a close, he hastened without delay, to\nmake the necessary arrangements. A very few minutes only were necessary\nto parade a few files, and to dispatch an orderly with a flag to\nannounce the approach of the commandant of the fort. When Duncan had\ndone both these, he led the guard to the sally-port, near which he\nfound his superior ready, waiting his appearance. As soon as the usual\nceremonials of a military departure were observed, the veteran and his\nmore youthful companion left the fortress, attended by the escort.\n\nThey had proceeded only a hundred yards from the works, when the little\narray which attended the French general to the conference was seen\nissuing from the hollow way which formed the bed of a brook that ran\nbetween the batteries of the besiegers and the fort. From the moment\nthat Munro left his own works to appear in front of his enemy's, his\nair had been grand, and his step and countenance highly military. The\ninstant he caught a glimpse of the white plume that waved in the hat\nof Montcalm, his eye lighted, and age no longer appeared to possess any\ninfluence over his vast and still muscular person.\n\n\"Speak to the boys to be watchful, sir,\" he said, in an undertone, to\nDuncan; \"and to look well to their flints and steel, for one is never\nsafe with a servant of these Louis's; at the same time, we shall show\nthem the front of men in deep security. Ye'll understand me, Major\nHeyward!\"\n\nHe was interrupted by the clamor of a drum from the approaching\nFrenchmen, which was immediately answered, when each party pushed an\norderly in advance, bearing a white flag, and the wary Scotsman halted\nwith his guard close at his back. As soon as this slight salutation\nhad passed, Montcalm moved toward them with a quick but graceful step,\nbaring his head to the veteran, and dropping his spotless plume nearly\nto the earth in courtesy. If the air of Munro was more commanding and\nmanly, it wanted both the ease and insinuating polish of that of the\nFrenchman. Neither spoke for a few moments, each regarding the other\nwith curious and interested eyes. Then, as became his superior rank and\nthe nature of the interview, Montcalm broke the silence. After uttering\nthe usual words of greeting, he turned to Duncan, and continued, with a\nsmile of recognition, speaking always in French:\n\n\"I am rejoiced, monsieur, that you have given us the pleasure of your\ncompany on this occasion. There will be no necessity to employ an\nordinary interpreter; for, in your hands, I feel the same security as if\nI spoke your language myself.\"\n\nDuncan acknowledged the compliment, when Montcalm, turning to his guard,\nwhich in imitation of that of their enemies, pressed close upon him,\ncontinued:\n\n\"En arriere, mes enfants--il fait chaud---retirez-vous un peu.\"\n\nBefore Major Heyward would imitate this proof of confidence, he glanced\nhis eyes around the plain, and beheld with uneasiness the numerous dusky\ngroups of savages, who looked out from the margin of the surrounding\nwoods, curious spectators of the interview.\n\n\"Monsieur de Montcalm will readily acknowledge the difference in our\nsituation,\" he said, with some embarrassment, pointing at the same\ntime toward those dangerous foes, who were to be seen in almost every\ndirection. \"Were we to dismiss our guard, we should stand here at the\nmercy of our enemies.\"\n\n\"Monsieur, you have the plighted faith of 'un gentilhomme Francais',\nfor your safety,\" returned Montcalm, laying his hand impressively on his\nheart; \"it should suffice.\"\n\n\"It shall. Fall back,\" Duncan added to the officer who led the escort;\n\"fall back, sir, beyond hearing, and wait for orders.\"\n\nMunro witnessed this movement with manifest uneasiness; nor did he fail\nto demand an instant explanation.\n\n\"Is it not our interest, sir, to betray distrust?\" retorted Duncan.\n\"Monsieur de Montcalm pledges his word for our safety, and I have\nordered the men to withdraw a little, in order to prove how much we\ndepend on his assurance.\"\n\n\"It may be all right, sir, but I have no overweening reliance on the\nfaith of these marquesses, or marquis, as they call themselves. Their\npatents of nobility are too common to be certain that they bear the seal\nof true honor.\"\n\n\"You forget, dear sir, that we confer with an officer, distinguished\nalike in Europe and America for his deeds. From a soldier of his\nreputation we can have nothing to apprehend.\"\n\nThe old man made a gesture of resignation, though his rigid features\nstill betrayed his obstinate adherence to a distrust, which he derived\nfrom a sort of hereditary contempt of his enemy, rather than from any\npresent signs which might warrant so uncharitable a feeling. Montcalm\nwaited patiently until this little dialogue in demi-voice was ended,\nwhen he drew nigher, and opened the subject of their conference.\n\n\"I have solicited this interview from your superior, monsieur,\" he said,\n\"because I believe he will allow himself to be persuaded that he has\nalready done everything which is necessary for the honor of his prince,\nand will now listen to the admonitions of humanity. I will forever bear\ntestimony that his resistance has been gallant, and was continued as\nlong as there was hope.\"\n\nWhen this opening was translated to Munro, he answered with dignity, but\nwith sufficient courtesy:\n\n\"However I may prize such testimony from Monsieur Montcalm, it will be\nmore valuable when it shall be better merited.\"\n\nThe French general smiled, as Duncan gave him the purport of this reply,\nand observed:\n\n\"What is now so freely accorded to approved courage, may be refused to\nuseless obstinacy. Monsieur would wish to see my camp, and witness for\nhimself our numbers, and the impossibility of his resisting them with\nsuccess?\"\n\n\"I know that the king of France is well served,\" returned the unmoved\nScotsman, as soon as Duncan ended his translation; \"but my own royal\nmaster has as many and as faithful troops.\"\n\n\"Though not at hand, fortunately for us,\" said Montcalm, without\nwaiting, in his ardor, for the interpreter. \"There is a destiny in war,\nto which a brave man knows how to submit with the same courage that he\nfaces his foes.\"\n\n\"Had I been conscious that Monsieur Montcalm was master of the English,\nI should have spared myself the trouble of so awkward a translation,\"\nsaid the vexed Duncan, dryly; remembering instantly his recent by-play\nwith Munro.\n\n\"Your pardon, monsieur,\" rejoined the Frenchman, suffering a slight\ncolor to appear on his dark cheek. \"There is a vast difference between\nunderstanding and speaking a foreign tongue; you will, therefore, please\nto assist me still.\" Then, after a short pause, he added: \"These hills\nafford us every opportunity of reconnoitering your works, messieurs, and\nI am possibly as well acquainted with their weak condition as you can be\nyourselves.\"\n\n\"Ask the French general if his glasses can reach to the Hudson,\" said\nMunro, proudly; \"and if he knows when and where to expect the army of\nWebb.\"\n\n\"Let General Webb be his own interpreter,\" returned the politic\nMontcalm, suddenly extending an open letter toward Munro as he spoke;\n\"you will there learn, monsieur, that his movements are not likely to\nprove embarrassing to my army.\"\n\nThe veteran seized the offered paper, without waiting for Duncan to\ntranslate the speech, and with an eagerness that betrayed how important\nhe deemed its contents. As his eye passed hastily over the words, his\ncountenance changed from its look of military pride to one of deep\nchagrin; his lip began to quiver; and suffering the paper to fall from\nhis hand, his head dropped upon his chest, like that of a man whose\nhopes were withered at a single blow. Duncan caught the letter from the\nground, and without apology for the liberty he took, he read at a glance\nits cruel purport. Their common superior, so far from encouraging them\nto resist, advised a speedy surrender, urging in the plainest language,\nas a reason, the utter impossibility of his sending a single man to\ntheir rescue.\n\n\"Here is no deception!\" exclaimed Duncan, examining the billet both\ninside and out; \"this is the signature of Webb, and must be the captured\nletter.\"\n\n\"The man has betrayed me!\" Munro at length bitterly exclaimed; \"he has\nbrought dishonor to the door of one where disgrace was never before\nknown to dwell, and shame has he heaped heavily on my gray hairs.\"\n\n\"Say not so,\" cried Duncan; \"we are yet masters of the fort, and of our\nhonor. Let us, then, sell our lives at such a rate as shall make our\nenemies believe the purchase too dear.\"\n\n\"Boy, I thank thee,\" exclaimed the old man, rousing himself from his\nstupor; \"you have, for once, reminded Munro of his duty. We will go\nback, and dig our graves behind those ramparts.\"\n\n\"Messieurs,\" said Montcalm, advancing toward them a step, in generous\ninterest, \"you little know Louis de St. Veran if you believe him capable\nof profiting by this letter to humble brave men, or to build up a\ndishonest reputation for himself. Listen to my terms before you leave\nme.\"\n\n\"What says the Frenchman?\" demanded the veteran, sternly; \"does he make\na merit of having captured a scout, with a note from headquarters? Sir,\nhe had better raise this siege, to go and sit down before Edward if he\nwishes to frighten his enemy with words.\"\n\nDuncan explained the other's meaning.\n\n\"Monsieur de Montcalm, we will hear you,\" the veteran added, more\ncalmly, as Duncan ended.\n\n\"To retain the fort is now impossible,\" said his liberal enemy; \"it is\nnecessary to the interests of my master that it should be destroyed; but\nas for yourselves and your brave comrades, there is no privilege dear to\na soldier that shall be denied.\"\n\n\"Our colors?\" demanded Heyward.\n\n\"Carry them to England, and show them to your king.\"\n\n\"Our arms?\"\n\n\"Keep them; none can use them better.\"\n\n\"Our march; the surrender of the place?\"\n\n\"Shall all be done in a way most honorable to yourselves.\"\n\nDuncan now turned to explain these proposals to his commander, who heard\nhim with amazement, and a sensibility that was deeply touched by so\nunusual and unexpected generosity.\n\n\"Go you, Duncan,\" he said; \"go with this marquess, as, indeed, marquess\nhe should be; go to his marquee and arrange it all. I have lived to\nsee two things in my old age that never did I expect to behold. An\nEnglishman afraid to support a friend, and a Frenchman too honest to\nprofit by his advantage.\"\n\nSo saying, the veteran again dropped his head to his chest, and returned\nslowly toward the fort, exhibiting, by the dejection of his air, to the\nanxious garrison, a harbinger of evil tidings.\n\nFrom the shock of this unexpected blow the haughty feelings of Munro\nnever recovered; but from that moment there commenced a change in his\ndetermined character, which accompanied him to a speedy grave. Duncan\nremained to settle the terms of the capitulation. He was seen\nto re-enter the works during the first watches of the night, and\nimmediately after a private conference with the commandant, to\nleave them again. It was then openly announced that hostilities must\ncease--Munro having signed a treaty by which the place was to be yielded\nto the enemy, with the morning; the garrison to retain their arms,\nthe colors and their baggage, and, consequently, according to military\nopinion, their honor.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 17\n\n     \"Weave we the woof.\n     The thread is spun.\n     The web is wove.\n     The work is done.\"--Gray\n\nThe hostile armies, which lay in the wilds of the Horican, passed the\nnight of the ninth of August, 1757, much in the manner they would, had\nthey encountered on the fairest field of Europe. While the conquered\nwere still, sullen, and dejected, the victors triumphed. But there\nare limits alike to grief and joy; and long before the watches of the\nmorning came the stillness of those boundless woods was only broken by a\ngay call from some exulting young Frenchman of the advanced pickets, or\na menacing challenge from the fort, which sternly forbade the approach\nof any hostile footsteps before the stipulated moment. Even these\noccasional threatening sounds ceased to be heard in that dull hour which\nprecedes the day, at which period a listener might have sought in vain\nany evidence of the presence of those armed powers that then slumbered\non the shores of the \"holy lake.\"\n\nIt was during these moments of deep silence that the canvas which\nconcealed the entrance to a spacious marquee in the French encampment\nwas shoved aside, and a man issued from beneath the drapery into the\nopen air. He was enveloped in a cloak that might have been intended as\na protection from the chilling damps of the woods, but which served\nequally well as a mantle to conceal his person. He was permitted to pass\nthe grenadier, who watched over the slumbers of the French commander,\nwithout interruption, the man making the usual salute which betokens\nmilitary deference, as the other passed swiftly through the little\ncity of tents, in the direction of William Henry. Whenever this unknown\nindividual encountered one of the numberless sentinels who crossed his\npath, his answer was prompt, and, as it appeared, satisfactory; for he\nwas uniformly allowed to proceed without further interrogation.\n\nWith the exception of such repeated but brief interruptions, he\nhad moved silently from the center of the camp to its most advanced\noutposts, when he drew nigh the soldier who held his watch nearest to\nthe works of the enemy. As he approached he was received with the usual\nchallenge:\n\n\"Qui vive?\"\n\n\"France,\" was the reply.\n\n\"Le mot d'ordre?\"\n\n\"La victorie,\" said the other, drawing so nigh as to be heard in a loud\nwhisper.\n\n\"C'est bien,\" returned the sentinel, throwing his musket from the charge\nto his shoulder; \"vous promenez bien matin, monsieur!\"\n\n\"Il est necessaire d'etre vigilant, mon enfant,\" the other observed,\ndropping a fold of his cloak, and looking the soldier close in the\nface as he passed him, still continuing his way toward the British\nfortification. The man started; his arms rattled heavily as he threw\nthem forward in the lowest and most respectful salute; and when he had\nagain recovered his piece, he turned to walk his post, muttering between\nhis teeth:\n\n\"Il faut etre vigilant, en verite! je crois que nous avons la, un\ncaporal qui ne dort jamais!\"\n\nThe officer proceeded, without affecting to hear the words which escaped\nthe sentinel in his surprise; nor did he again pause until he had\nreached the low strand, and in a somewhat dangerous vicinity to the\nwestern water bastion of the fort. The light of an obscure moon was just\nsufficient to render objects, though dim, perceptible in their outlines.\nHe, therefore, took the precaution to place himself against the trunk of\na tree, where he leaned for many minutes, and seemed to contemplate the\ndark and silent mounds of the English works in profound attention. His\ngaze at the ramparts was not that of a curious or idle spectator;\nbut his looks wandered from point to point, denoting his knowledge of\nmilitary usages, and betraying that his search was not unaccompanied\nby distrust. At length he appeared satisfied; and having cast his eyes\nimpatiently upward toward the summit of the eastern mountain, as if\nanticipating the approach of the morning, he was in the act of turning\non his footsteps, when a light sound on the nearest angle of the bastion\ncaught his ear, and induced him to remain.\n\nJust then a figure was seen to approach the edge of the rampart, where\nit stood, apparently contemplating in its turn the distant tents of the\nFrench encampment. Its head was then turned toward the east, as though\nequally anxious for the appearance of light, when the form leaned\nagainst the mound, and seemed to gaze upon the glassy expanse of the\nwaters, which, like a submarine firmament, glittered with its thousand\nmimic stars. The melancholy air, the hour, together with the vast frame\nof the man who thus leaned, musing, against the English ramparts,\nleft no doubt as to his person in the mind of the observant spectator.\nDelicacy, no less than prudence, now urged him to retire; and he had\nmoved cautiously round the body of the tree for that purpose, when\nanother sound drew his attention, and once more arrested his footsteps.\nIt was a low and almost inaudible movement of the water, and was\nsucceeded by a grating of pebbles one against the other. In a moment\nhe saw a dark form rise, as it were, out of the lake, and steal without\nfurther noise to the land, within a few feet of the place where he\nhimself stood. A rifle next slowly rose between his eyes and the watery\nmirror; but before it could be discharged his own hand was on the lock.\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed the savage, whose treacherous aim was so singularly\nand so unexpectedly interrupted.\n\nWithout making any reply, the French officer laid his hand on the\nshoulder of the Indian, and led him in profound silence to a distance\nfrom the spot, where their subsequent dialogue might have proved\ndangerous, and where it seemed that one of them, at least, sought a\nvictim. Then throwing open his cloak, so as to expose his uniform and\nthe cross of St. Louis which was suspended at his breast, Montcalm\nsternly demanded:\n\n\"What means this? Does not my son know that the hatchet is buried\nbetween the English and his Canadian Father?\"\n\n\"What can the Hurons do?\" returned the savage, speaking also, though\nimperfectly, in the French language.\n\n\"Not a warrior has a scalp, and the pale faces make friends!\"\n\n\"Ha, Le Renard Subtil! Methinks this is an excess of zeal for a friend\nwho was so late an enemy! How many suns have set since Le Renard struck\nthe war-post of the English?\"\n\n\"Where is that sun?\" demanded the sullen savage. \"Behind the hill; and\nit is dark and cold. But when he comes again, it will be bright and\nwarm. Le Subtil is the sun of his tribe. There have been clouds, and\nmany mountains between him and his nation; but now he shines and it is a\nclear sky!\"\n\n\"That Le Renard has power with his people, I well know,\" said Montcalm;\n\"for yesterday he hunted for their scalps, and to-day they hear him at\nthe council-fire.\"\n\n\"Magua is a great chief.\"\n\n\"Let him prove it, by teaching his nation how to conduct themselves\ntoward our new friends.\"\n\n\"Why did the chief of the Canadas bring his young men into the woods,\nand fire his cannon at the earthen house?\" demanded the subtle Indian.\n\n\"To subdue it. My master owns the land, and your father was ordered to\ndrive off these English squatters. They have consented to go, and now he\ncalls them enemies no longer.\"\n\n\"'Tis well. Magua took the hatchet to color it with blood. It is now\nbright; when it is red, it shall be buried.\"\n\n\"But Magua is pledged not to sully the lilies of France. The enemies of\nthe great king across the salt lake are his enemies; his friends, the\nfriends of the Hurons.\"\n\n\"Friends!\" repeated the Indian in scorn. \"Let his father give Magua a\nhand.\"\n\nMontcalm, who felt that his influence over the warlike tribes he had\ngathered was to be maintained by concession rather than by power,\ncomplied reluctantly with the other's request. The savage placed the\nfingers of the French commander on a deep scar in his bosom, and then\nexultingly demanded:\n\n\"Does my father know that?\"\n\n\"What warrior does not? 'Tis where a leaden bullet has cut.\"\n\n\"And this?\" continued the Indian, who had turned his naked back to the\nother, his body being without its usual calico mantle.\n\n\"This!--my son has been sadly injured here; who has done this?\"\n\n\"Magua slept hard in the English wigwams, and the sticks have left their\nmark,\" returned the savage, with a hollow laugh, which did not conceal\nthe fierce temper that nearly choked him. Then, recollecting himself,\nwith sudden and native dignity, he added: \"Go; teach your young men it\nis peace. Le Renard Subtil knows how to speak to a Huron warrior.\"\n\nWithout deigning to bestow further words, or to wait for any answer,\nthe savage cast his rifle into the hollow of his arm, and moved silently\nthrough the encampment toward the woods where his own tribe was known to\nlie. Every few yards as he proceeded he was challenged by the sentinels;\nbut he stalked sullenly onward, utterly disregarding the summons of the\nsoldiers, who only spared his life because they knew the air and tread\nno less than the obstinate daring of an Indian.\n\nMontcalm lingered long and melancholy on the strand where he had\nbeen left by his companion, brooding deeply on the temper which his\nungovernable ally had just discovered. Already had his fair fame been\ntarnished by one horrid scene, and in circumstances fearfully resembling\nthose under which he now found himself. As he mused he became keenly\nsensible of the deep responsibility they assume who disregard the means\nto attain the end, and of all the danger of setting in motion an engine\nwhich it exceeds human power to control. Then shaking off a train of\nreflections that he accounted a weakness in such a moment of triumph,\nhe retraced his steps toward his tent, giving the order as he passed to\nmake the signal that should arouse the army from its slumbers.\n\nThe first tap of the French drums was echoed from the bosom of the fort,\nand presently the valley was filled with the strains of martial music,\nrising long, thrilling and lively above the rattling accompaniment. The\nhorns of the victors sounded merry and cheerful flourishes, until the\nlast laggard of the camp was at his post; but the instant the British\nfifes had blown their shrill signal, they became mute. In the meantime\nthe day had dawned, and when the line of the French army was ready to\nreceive its general, the rays of a brilliant sun were glancing along the\nglittering array. Then that success, which was already so well known,\nwas officially announced; the favored band who were selected to guard\nthe gates of the fort were detailed, and defiled before their chief; the\nsignal of their approach was given, and all the usual preparations for\na change of masters were ordered and executed directly under the guns of\nthe contested works.\n\nA very different scene presented itself within the lines of the\nAnglo-American army. As soon as the warning signal was given, it\nexhibited all the signs of a hurried and forced departure. The sullen\nsoldiers shouldered their empty tubes and fell into their places,\nlike men whose blood had been heated by the past contest, and who only\ndesired the opportunity to revenge an indignity which was still wounding\nto their pride, concealed as it was under the observances of military\netiquette.\n\nWomen and children ran from place to place, some bearing the scanty\nremnants of their baggage, and others searching in the ranks for those\ncountenances they looked up to for protection.\n\nMunro appeared among his silent troops firm but dejected. It was evident\nthat the unexpected blow had struck deep into his heart, though he\nstruggled to sustain his misfortune with the port of a man.\n\nDuncan was touched at the quiet and impressive exhibition of his grief.\nHe had discharged his own duty, and he now pressed to the side of the\nold man, to know in what particular he might serve him.\n\n\"My daughters,\" was the brief but expressive reply.\n\n\"Good heavens! are not arrangements already made for their convenience?\"\n\n\"To-day I am only a soldier, Major Heyward,\" said the veteran. \"All that\nyou see here, claim alike to be my children.\"\n\nDuncan had heard enough. Without losing one of those moments which had\nnow become so precious, he flew toward the quarters of Munro, in quest\nof the sisters. He found them on the threshold of the low edifice,\nalready prepared to depart, and surrounded by a clamorous and weeping\nassemblage of their own sex, that had gathered about the place, with a\nsort of instinctive consciousness that it was the point most likely to\nbe protected. Though the cheeks of Cora were pale and her countenance\nanxious, she had lost none of her firmness; but the eyes of Alice were\ninflamed, and betrayed how long and bitterly she had wept. They both,\nhowever, received the young man with undisguised pleasure; the former,\nfor a novelty, being the first to speak.\n\n\"The fort is lost,\" she said, with a melancholy smile; \"though our good\nname, I trust, remains.\"\n\n\"'Tis brighter than ever. But, dearest Miss Munro, it is time to think\nless of others, and to make some provision for yourself. Military\nusage--pride--that pride on which you so much value yourself, demands\nthat your father and I should for a little while continue with the\ntroops. Then where to seek a proper protector for you against the\nconfusion and chances of such a scene?\"\n\n\"None is necessary,\" returned Cora; \"who will dare to injure or insult\nthe daughter of such a father, at a time like this?\"\n\n\"I would not leave you alone,\" continued the youth, looking about him\nin a hurried manner, \"for the command of the best regiment in the pay of\nthe king. Remember, our Alice is not gifted with all your firmness, and\nGod only knows the terror she might endure.\"\n\n\"You may be right,\" Cora replied, smiling again, but far more sadly than\nbefore. \"Listen! chance has already sent us a friend when he is most\nneeded.\"\n\nDuncan did listen, and on the instant comprehended her meaning. The low\nand serious sounds of the sacred music, so well known to the eastern\nprovinces, caught his ear, and instantly drew him to an apartment in\nan adjacent building, which had already been deserted by its customary\ntenants. There he found David, pouring out his pious feelings through\nthe only medium in which he ever indulged. Duncan waited, until, by the\ncessation of the movement of the hand, he believed the strain was ended,\nwhen, by touching his shoulder, he drew the attention of the other to\nhimself, and in a few words explained his wishes.\n\n\"Even so,\" replied the single-minded disciple of the King of Israel,\nwhen the young man had ended; \"I have found much that is comely and\nmelodious in the maidens, and it is fitting that we who have consorted\nin so much peril, should abide together in peace. I will attend them,\nwhen I have completed my morning praise, to which nothing is now wanting\nbut the doxology. Wilt thou bear a part, friend? The meter is common,\nand the tune 'Southwell'.\"\n\nThen, extending the little volume, and giving the pitch of the air anew\nwith considerate attention, David recommenced and finished his strains,\nwith a fixedness of manner that it was not easy to interrupt. Heyward\nwas fain to wait until the verse was ended; when, seeing David relieving\nhimself from the spectacles, and replacing the book, he continued.\n\n\"It will be your duty to see that none dare to approach the ladies with\nany rude intention, or to offer insult or taunt at the misfortune of\ntheir brave father. In this task you will be seconded by the domestics\nof their household.\"\n\n\"Even so.\"\n\n\"It is possible that the Indians and stragglers of the enemy may\nintrude, in which case you will remind them of the terms of the\ncapitulation, and threaten to report their conduct to Montcalm. A word\nwill suffice.\"\n\n\"If not, I have that here which shall,\" returned David, exhibiting\nhis book, with an air in which meekness and confidence were singularly\nblended. Here are words which, uttered, or rather thundered, with proper\nemphasis, and in measured time, shall quiet the most unruly temper:\n\n\"'Why rage the heathen furiously'?\"\n\n\"Enough,\" said Heyward, interrupting the burst of his musical\ninvocation; \"we understand each other; it is time that we should now\nassume our respective duties.\"\n\nGamut cheerfully assented, and together they sought the females. Cora\nreceived her new and somewhat extraordinary protector courteously, at\nleast; and even the pallid features of Alice lighted again with some of\ntheir native archness as she thanked Heyward for his care. Duncan\ntook occasion to assure them he had done the best that circumstances\npermitted, and, as he believed, quite enough for the security of\ntheir feelings; of danger there was none. He then spoke gladly of his\nintention to rejoin them the moment he had led the advance a few miles\ntoward the Hudson, and immediately took his leave.\n\nBy this time the signal for departure had been given, and the head of\nthe English column was in motion. The sisters started at the sound, and\nglancing their eyes around, they saw the white uniforms of the French\ngrenadiers, who had already taken possession of the gates of the fort.\nAt that moment an enormous cloud seemed to pass suddenly above their\nheads, and, looking upward, they discovered that they stood beneath the\nwide folds of the standard of France.\n\n\"Let us go,\" said Cora; \"this is no longer a fit place for the children\nof an English officer.\"\n\nAlice clung to the arm of her sister, and together they left the parade,\naccompanied by the moving throng that surrounded them.\n\nAs they passed the gates, the French officers, who had learned their\nrank, bowed often and low, forbearing, however, to intrude those\nattentions which they saw, with peculiar tact, might not be agreeable.\nAs every vehicle and each beast of burden was occupied by the sick and\nwounded, Cora had decided to endure the fatigues of a foot march, rather\nthan interfere with their comforts. Indeed, many a maimed and feeble\nsoldier was compelled to drag his exhausted limbs in the rear of the\ncolumns, for the want of the necessary means of conveyance in that\nwilderness. The whole, however, was in motion; the weak and wounded,\ngroaning and in suffering; their comrades silent and sullen; and the\nwomen and children in terror, they knew not of what.\n\nAs the confused and timid throng left the protecting mounds of the fort,\nand issued on the open plain, the whole scene was at once presented to\ntheir eyes. At a little distance on the right, and somewhat in the\nrear, the French army stood to their arms, Montcalm having collected his\nparties, so soon as his guards had possession of the works. They were\nattentive but silent observers of the proceedings of the vanquished,\nfailing in none of the stipulated military honors, and offering no taunt\nor insult, in their success, to their less fortunate foes. Living masses\nof the English, to the amount, in the whole, of near three thousand,\nwere moving slowly across the plain, toward the common center, and\ngradually approached each other, as they converged to the point of their\nmarch, a vista cut through the lofty trees, where the road to the Hudson\nentered the forest. Along the sweeping borders of the woods hung a dark\ncloud of savages, eyeing the passage of their enemies, and hovering at\na distance, like vultures who were only kept from swooping on their prey\nby the presence and restraint of a superior army. A few had straggled\namong the conquered columns, where they stalked in sullen discontent;\nattentive, though, as yet, passive observers of the moving multitude.\n\nThe advance, with Heyward at its head, had already reached the defile,\nand was slowly disappearing, when the attention of Cora was drawn to\na collection of stragglers by the sounds of contention. A truant\nprovincial was paying the forfeit of his disobedience, by being\nplundered of those very effects which had caused him to desert his place\nin the ranks. The man was of powerful frame, and too avaricious to\npart with his goods without a struggle. Individuals from either party\ninterfered; the one side to prevent and the other to aid in the robbery.\nVoices grew loud and angry, and a hundred savages appeared, as it were,\nby magic, where a dozen only had been seen a minute before. It was\nthen that Cora saw the form of Magua gliding among his countrymen, and\nspeaking with his fatal and artful eloquence. The mass of women and\nchildren stopped, and hovered together like alarmed and fluttering\nbirds. But the cupidity of the Indian was soon gratified, and the\ndifferent bodies again moved slowly onward.\n\nThe savages now fell back, and seemed content to let their enemies\nadvance without further molestation. But, as the female crowd approached\nthem, the gaudy colors of a shawl attracted the eyes of a wild and\nuntutored Huron. He advanced to seize it without the least hesitation.\nThe woman, more in terror than through love of the ornament, wrapped her\nchild in the coveted article, and folded both more closely to her bosom.\nCora was in the act of speaking, with an intent to advise the woman to\nabandon the trifle, when the savage relinquished his hold of the shawl,\nand tore the screaming infant from her arms. Abandoning everything\nto the greedy grasp of those around her, the mother darted, with\ndistraction in her mien, to reclaim her child. The Indian smiled grimly,\nand extended one hand, in sign of a willingness to exchange, while, with\nthe other, he flourished the babe over his head, holding it by the feet\nas if to enhance the value of the ransom.\n\n\"Here--here--there--all--any--everything!\" exclaimed the breathless\nwoman, tearing the lighter articles of dress from her person with\nill-directed and trembling fingers; \"take all, but give me my babe!\"\n\nThe savage spurned the worthless rags, and perceiving that the shawl\nhad already become a prize to another, his bantering but sullen smile\nchanging to a gleam of ferocity, he dashed the head of the infant\nagainst a rock, and cast its quivering remains to her very feet. For an\ninstant the mother stood, like a statue of despair, looking wildly down\nat the unseemly object, which had so lately nestled in her bosom and\nsmiled in her face; and then she raised her eyes and countenance toward\nheaven, as if calling on God to curse the perpetrator of the foul\ndeed. She was spared the sin of such a prayer for, maddened at his\ndisappointment, and excited at the sight of blood, the Huron mercifully\ndrove his tomahawk into her own brain. The mother sank under the blow,\nand fell, grasping at her child, in death, with the same engrossing love\nthat had caused her to cherish it when living.\n\nAt that dangerous moment, Magua placed his hands to his mouth, and\nraised the fatal and appalling whoop. The scattered Indians started at\nthe well-known cry, as coursers bound at the signal to quit the goal;\nand directly there arose such a yell along the plain, and through the\narches of the wood, as seldom burst from human lips before. They who\nheard it listened with a curdling horror at the heart, little inferior\nto that dread which may be expected to attend the blasts of the final\nsummons.\n\nMore than two thousand raving savages broke from the forest at the\nsignal, and threw themselves across the fatal plain with instinctive\nalacrity. We shall not dwell on the revolting horrors that succeeded.\nDeath was everywhere, and in his most terrific and disgusting aspects.\nResistance only served to inflame the murderers, who inflicted their\nfurious blows long after their victims were beyond the power of their\nresentment. The flow of blood might be likened to the outbreaking of\na torrent; and as the natives became heated and maddened by the sight,\nmany among them even kneeled to the earth, and drank freely, exultingly,\nhellishly, of the crimson tide.\n\nThe trained bodies of the troops threw themselves quickly into solid\nmasses, endeavoring to awe their assailants by the imposing appearance\nof a military front. The experiment in some measure succeeded, though\nfar too many suffered their unloaded muskets to be torn from their\nhands, in the vain hope of appeasing the savages.\n\nIn such a scene none had leisure to note the fleeting moments. It might\nhave been ten minutes (it seemed an age) that the sisters had stood\nriveted to one spot, horror-stricken and nearly helpless. When the first\nblow was struck, their screaming companions had pressed upon them in\na body, rendering flight impossible; and now that fear or death had\nscattered most, if not all, from around them, they saw no avenue open,\nbut such as conducted to the tomahawks of their foes. On every side\narose shrieks, groans, exhortations and curses. At this moment, Alice\ncaught a glimpse of the vast form of her father, moving rapidly across\nthe plain, in the direction of the French army. He was, in truth,\nproceeding to Montcalm, fearless of every danger, to claim the tardy\nescort for which he had before conditioned. Fifty glittering axes\nand barbed spears were offered unheeded at his life, but the savages\nrespected his rank and calmness, even in their fury. The dangerous\nweapons were brushed aside by the still nervous arm of the veteran, or\nfell of themselves, after menacing an act that it would seem no one had\ncourage to perform. Fortunately, the vindictive Magua was searching for\nhis victim in the very band the veteran had just quitted.\n\n\"Father--father--we are here!\" shrieked Alice, as he passed, at no great\ndistance, without appearing to heed them. \"Come to us, father, or we\ndie!\"\n\nThe cry was repeated, and in terms and tones that might have melted\na heart of stone, but it was unanswered. Once, indeed, the old man\nappeared to catch the sound, for he paused and listened; but Alice had\ndropped senseless on the earth, and Cora had sunk at her side, hovering\nin untiring tenderness over her lifeless form. Munro shook his head in\ndisappointment, and proceeded, bent on the high duty of his station.\n\n\"Lady,\" said Gamut, who, helpless and useless as he was, had not yet\ndreamed of deserting his trust, \"it is the jubilee of the devils, and\nthis is not a meet place for Christians to tarry in. Let us up and fly.\"\n\n\"Go,\" said Cora, still gazing at her unconscious sister; \"save thyself.\nTo me thou canst not be of further use.\"\n\nDavid comprehended the unyielding character of her resolution, by the\nsimple but expressive gesture that accompanied her words. He gazed for a\nmoment at the dusky forms that were acting their hellish rites on every\nside of him, and his tall person grew more erect while his chest heaved,\nand every feature swelled, and seemed to speak with the power of the\nfeelings by which he was governed.\n\n\"If the Jewish boy might tame the great spirit of Saul by the sound of\nhis harp, and the words of sacred song, it may not be amiss,\" he said,\n\"to try the potency of music here.\"\n\nThen raising his voice to its highest tone, he poured out a strain so\npowerful as to be heard even amid the din of that bloody field. More\nthan one savage rushed toward them, thinking to rifle the unprotected\nsisters of their attire, and bear away their scalps; but when they found\nthis strange and unmoved figure riveted to his post, they paused to\nlisten. Astonishment soon changed to admiration, and they passed on to\nother and less courageous victims, openly expressing their satisfaction\nat the firmness with which the white warrior sang his death song.\nEncouraged and deluded by his success, David exerted all his powers to\nextend what he believed so holy an influence. The unwonted sounds caught\nthe ears of a distant savage, who flew raging from group to group, like\none who, scorning to touch the vulgar herd, hunted for some victim more\nworthy of his renown. It was Magua, who uttered a yell of pleasure when\nhe beheld his ancient prisoners again at his mercy.\n\n\"Come,\" he said, laying his soiled hands on the dress of Cora, \"the\nwigwam of the Huron is still open. Is it not better than this place?\"\n\n\"Away!\" cried Cora, veiling her eyes from his revolting aspect.\n\nThe Indian laughed tauntingly, as he held up his reeking hand, and\nanswered: \"It is red, but it comes from white veins!\"\n\n\"Monster! there is blood, oceans of blood, upon thy soul; thy spirit has\nmoved this scene.\"\n\n\"Magua is a great chief!\" returned the exulting savage, \"will the\ndark-hair go to his tribe?\"\n\n\"Never! strike if thou wilt, and complete thy revenge.\" He hesitated a\nmoment, and then catching the light and senseless form of Alice in his\narms, the subtle Indian moved swiftly across the plain toward the woods.\n\n\"Hold!\" shrieked Cora, following wildly on his footsteps; \"release the\nchild! wretch! what is't you do?\"\n\nBut Magua was deaf to her voice; or, rather, he knew his power, and was\ndetermined to maintain it.\n\n\"Stay--lady--stay,\" called Gamut, after the unconscious Cora. \"The\nholy charm is beginning to be felt, and soon shalt thou see this horrid\ntumult stilled.\"\n\nPerceiving that, in his turn, he was unheeded, the faithful David\nfollowed the distracted sister, raising his voice again in sacred song,\nand sweeping the air to the measure, with his long arm, in diligent\naccompaniment. In this manner they traversed the plain, through the\nflying, the wounded and the dead. The fierce Huron was, at any time,\nsufficient for himself and the victim that he bore; though Cora would\nhave fallen more than once under the blows of her savage enemies,\nbut for the extraordinary being who stalked in her rear, and who now\nappeared to the astonished natives gifted with the protecting spirit of\nmadness.\n\nMagua, who knew how to avoid the more pressing dangers, and also to\nelude pursuit, entered the woods through a low ravine, where he quickly\nfound the Narragansetts, which the travelers had abandoned so shortly\nbefore, awaiting his appearance, in custody of a savage as fierce and\nmalign in his expression as himself. Laying Alice on one of the horses,\nhe made a sign to Cora to mount the other.\n\nNotwithstanding the horror excited by the presence of her captor, there\nwas a present relief in escaping from the bloody scene enacting on the\nplain, to which Cora could not be altogether insensible. She took her\nseat, and held forth her arms for her sister, with an air of entreaty\nand love that even the Huron could not deny. Placing Alice, then, on the\nsame animal with Cora, he seized the bridle, and commenced his route\nby plunging deeper into the forest. David, perceiving that he was left\nalone, utterly disregarded as a subject too worthless even to destroy,\nthrew his long limb across the saddle of the beast they had deserted,\nand made such progress in the pursuit as the difficulties of the path\npermitted.\n\nThey soon began to ascend; but as the motion had a tendency to revive\nthe dormant faculties of her sister, the attention of Cora was too much\ndivided between the tenderest solicitude in her behalf, and in listening\nto the cries which were still too audible on the plain, to note the\ndirection in which they journeyed. When, however, they gained the\nflattened surface of the mountain-top, and approached the eastern\nprecipice, she recognized the spot to which she had once before been led\nunder the more friendly auspices of the scout. Here Magua suffered them\nto dismount; and notwithstanding their own captivity, the curiosity\nwhich seems inseparable from horror, induced them to gaze at the\nsickening sight below.\n\nThe cruel work was still unchecked. On every side the captured were\nflying before their relentless persecutors, while the armed columns\nof the Christian king stood fast in an apathy which has never been\nexplained, and which has left an immovable blot on the otherwise fair\nescutcheon of their leader. Nor was the sword of death stayed until\ncupidity got the mastery of revenge. Then, indeed, the shrieks of the\nwounded, and the yells of their murderers grew less frequent, until,\nfinally, the cries of horror were lost to their ear, or were drowned in\nthe loud, long and piercing whoops of the triumphant savages.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 18\n\n     \"Why, anything;\n     An honorable murderer, if you will;\n     For naught I did in hate, but all in honor.\"\n     --Othello\n\nThe bloody and inhuman scene rather incidentally mentioned than\ndescribed in the preceding chapter, is conspicuous in the pages of\ncolonial history by the merited title of \"The Massacre of William\nHenry.\" It so far deepened the stain which a previous and very similar\nevent had left upon the reputation of the French commander that it was\nnot entirely erased by his early and glorious death. It is now becoming\nobscured by time; and thousands, who know that Montcalm died like a hero\non the plains of Abraham, have yet to learn how much he was deficient in\nthat moral courage without which no man can be truly great. Pages might\nyet be written to prove, from this illustrious example, the defects of\nhuman excellence; to show how easy it is for generous sentiments, high\ncourtesy, and chivalrous courage to lose their influence beneath the\nchilling blight of selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man who\nwas great in all the minor attributes of character, but who was found\nwanting when it became necessary to prove how much principle is superior\nto policy. But the task would exceed our prerogatives; and, as history,\nlike love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of\nimaginary brightness, it is probable that Louis de Saint Veran will be\nviewed by posterity only as the gallant defender of his country, while\nhis cruel apathy on the shores of the Oswego and of the Horican will be\nforgotten. Deeply regretting this weakness on the part of a sister muse,\nwe shall at once retire from her sacred precincts, within the proper\nlimits of our own humble vocation.\n\nThe third day from the capture of the fort was drawing to a close, but\nthe business of the narrative must still detain the reader on the shores\nof the \"holy lake.\" When last seen, the environs of the works were\nfilled with violence and uproar. They were now possessed by stillness\nand death. The blood-stained conquerors had departed; and their camp,\nwhich had so lately rung with the merry rejoicings of a victorious army,\nlay a silent and deserted city of huts. The fortress was a smoldering\nruin; charred rafters, fragments of exploded artillery, and rent\nmason-work covering its earthen mounds in confused disorder.\n\nA frightful change had also occurred in the season. The sun had hid\nits warmth behind an impenetrable mass of vapor, and hundreds of human\nforms, which had blackened beneath the fierce heats of August, were\nstiffening in their deformity before the blasts of a premature November.\nThe curling and spotless mists, which had been seen sailing above the\nhills toward the north, were now returning in an interminable dusky\nsheet, that was urged along by the fury of a tempest. The crowded mirror\nof the Horican was gone; and, in its place, the green and angry waters\nlashed the shores, as if indignantly casting back its impurities to\nthe polluted strand. Still the clear fountain retained a portion of its\ncharmed influence, but it reflected only the somber gloom that fell\nfrom the impending heavens. That humid and congenial atmosphere which\ncommonly adorned the view, veiling its harshness, and softening its\nasperities, had disappeared, the northern air poured across the waste of\nwater so harsh and unmingled, that nothing was left to be conjectured by\nthe eye, or fashioned by the fancy.\n\nThe fiercer element had cropped the verdure of the plain, which looked\nas though it were scathed by the consuming lightning. But, here and\nthere, a dark green tuft rose in the midst of the desolation; the\nearliest fruits of a soil that had been fattened with human blood.\nThe whole landscape, which, seen by a favoring light, and in a genial\ntemperature, had been found so lovely, appeared now like some pictured\nallegory of life, in which objects were arrayed in their harshest but\ntruest colors, and without the relief of any shadowing.\n\nThe solitary and arid blades of grass arose from the passing gusts\nfearfully perceptible; the bold and rocky mountains were too distinct in\ntheir barrenness, and the eye even sought relief, in vain, by attempting\nto pierce the illimitable void of heaven, which was shut to its gaze by\nthe dusky sheet of ragged and driving vapor.\n\nThe wind blew unequally; sometimes sweeping heavily along the ground,\nseeming to whisper its moanings in the cold ears of the dead, then\nrising in a shrill and mournful whistling, it entered the forest with\na rush that filled the air with the leaves and branches it scattered in\nits path. Amid the unnatural shower, a few hungry ravens struggled with\nthe gale; but no sooner was the green ocean of woods which stretched\nbeneath them, passed, than they gladly stopped, at random, to their\nhideous banquet.\n\nIn short, it was a scene of wildness and desolation; and it appeared as\nif all who had profanely entered it had been stricken, at a blow, by\nthe relentless arm of death. But the prohibition had ceased; and for the\nfirst time since the perpetrators of those foul deeds which had assisted\nto disfigure the scene were gone, living human beings had now presumed\nto approach the place.\n\nAbout an hour before the setting of the sun, on the day already\nmentioned, the forms of five men might have been seen issuing from the\nnarrow vista of trees, where the path to the Hudson entered the forest,\nand advancing in the direction of the ruined works. At first their\nprogress was slow and guarded, as though they entered with reluctance\namid the horrors of the post, or dreaded the renewal of its frightful\nincidents. A light figure preceded the rest of the party, with\nthe caution and activity of a native; ascending every hillock to\nreconnoiter, and indicating by gestures, to his companions, the route he\ndeemed it most prudent to pursue. Nor were those in the rear wanting in\nevery caution and foresight known to forest warfare. One among them, he\nalso was an Indian, moved a little on one flank, and watched the margin\nof the woods, with eyes long accustomed to read the smallest sign\nof danger. The remaining three were white, though clad in vestments\nadapted, both in quality and color, to their present hazardous\npursuit--that of hanging on the skirts of a retiring army in the\nwilderness.\n\nThe effects produced by the appalling sights that constantly arose in\ntheir path to the lake shore, were as different as the characters of the\nrespective individuals who composed the party. The youth in front\nthrew serious but furtive glances at the mangled victims, as he stepped\nlightly across the plain, afraid to exhibit his feelings, and yet too\ninexperienced to quell entirely their sudden and powerful influence. His\nred associate, however, was superior to such a weakness. He passed the\ngroups of dead with a steadiness of purpose, and an eye so calm, that\nnothing but long and inveterate practise could enable him to maintain.\nThe sensations produced in the minds of even the white men were\ndifferent, though uniformly sorrowful. One, whose gray locks and\nfurrowed lineaments, blending with a martial air and tread, betrayed, in\nspite of the disguise of a woodsman's dress, a man long experienced in\nscenes of war, was not ashamed to groan aloud, whenever a spectacle of\nmore than usual horror came under his view. The young man at his elbow\nshuddered, but seemed to suppress his feelings in tenderness to his\ncompanion. Of them all, the straggler who brought up the rear appeared\nalone to betray his real thoughts, without fear of observation or dread\nof consequences. He gazed at the most appalling sight with eyes and\nmuscles that knew not how to waver, but with execrations so bitter and\ndeep as to denote how much he denounced the crime of his enemies.\n\nThe reader will perceive at once, in these respective characters, the\nMohicans, and their white friend, the scout; together with Munro and\nHeyward. It was, in truth, the father in quest of his children, attended\nby the youth who felt so deep a stake in their happiness, and those\nbrave and trusty foresters, who had already proved their skill and\nfidelity through the trying scenes related.\n\nWhen Uncas, who moved in front, had reached the center of the plain, he\nraised a cry that drew his companions in a body to the spot. The young\nwarrior had halted over a group of females who lay in a cluster, a\nconfused mass of dead. Notwithstanding the revolting horror of\nthe exhibition, Munro and Heyward flew toward the festering heap,\nendeavoring, with a love that no unseemliness could extinguish, to\ndiscover whether any vestiges of those they sought were to be seen among\nthe tattered and many-colored garments. The father and the lover\nfound instant relief in the search; though each was condemned again\nto experience the misery of an uncertainty that was hardly less\ninsupportable than the most revolting truth. They were standing, silent\nand thoughtful, around the melancholy pile, when the scout approached.\nEyeing the sad spectacle with an angry countenance, the sturdy woodsman,\nfor the first time since his entering the plain, spoke intelligibly and\naloud:\n\n\"I have been on many a shocking field, and have followed a trail of\nblood for weary miles,\" he said, \"but never have I found the hand of the\ndevil so plain as it is here to be seen! Revenge is an Indian feeling,\nand all who know me know that there is no cross in my veins; but this\nmuch will I say--here, in the face of heaven, and with the power of the\nLord so manifest in this howling wilderness--that should these Frenchers\never trust themselves again within the range of a ragged bullet, there\nis one rifle which shall play its part so long as flint will fire or\npowder burn! I leave the tomahawk and knife to such as have a natural\ngift to use them. What say you, Chingachgook,\" he added, in Delaware;\n\"shall the Hurons boast of this to their women when the deep snows\ncome?\"\n\nA gleam of resentment flashed across the dark lineaments of the Mohican\nchief; he loosened his knife in his sheath; and then turning calmly from\nthe sight, his countenance settled into a repose as deep as if he knew\nthe instigation of passion.\n\n\"Montcalm! Montcalm!\" continued the deeply resentful and less\nself-restrained scout; \"they say a time must come when all the deeds\ndone in the flesh will be seen at a single look; and that by eyes\ncleared from mortal infirmities. Woe betide the wretch who is born to\nbehold this plain, with the judgment hanging about his soul! Ha--as I\nam a man of white blood, yonder lies a red-skin, without the hair of\nhis head where nature rooted it! Look to him, Delaware; it may be one of\nyour missing people; and he should have burial like a stout warrior.\nI see it in your eye, Sagamore; a Huron pays for this, afore the fall\nwinds have blown away the scent of the blood!\"\n\nChingachgook approached the mutilated form, and, turning it over, he\nfound the distinguishing marks of one of those six allied tribes, or\nnations, as they were called, who, while they fought in the English\nranks, were so deadly hostile to his own people. Spurning the loathsome\nobject with his foot, he turned from it with the same indifference he\nwould have quitted a brute carcass. The scout comprehended the action,\nand very deliberately pursued his own way, continuing, however, his\ndenunciations against the French commander in the same resentful strain.\n\n\"Nothing but vast wisdom and unlimited power should dare to sweep off\nmen in multitudes,\" he added; \"for it is only the one that can know the\nnecessity of the judgment; and what is there, short of the other, that\ncan replace the creatures of the Lord? I hold it a sin to kill the\nsecond buck afore the first is eaten, unless a march in front, or\nan ambushment, be contemplated. It is a different matter with a few\nwarriors in open and rugged fight, for 'tis their gift to die with the\nrifle or the tomahawk in hand; according as their natures may happen to\nbe, white or red. Uncas, come this way, lad, and let the ravens settle\nupon the Mingo. I know, from often seeing it, that they have a craving\nfor the flesh of an Oneida; and it is as well to let the bird follow the\ngift of its natural appetite.\"\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed the young Mohican, rising on the extremities of his\nfeet, and gazing intently in his front, frightening the ravens to some\nother prey by the sound and the action.\n\n\"What is it, boy?\" whispered the scout, lowering his tall form into a\ncrouching attitude, like a panther about to take his leap; \"God send it\nbe a tardy Frencher, skulking for plunder. I do believe 'killdeer' would\ntake an uncommon range today!\"\n\nUncas, without making any reply, bounded away from the spot, and in the\nnext instant he was seen tearing from a bush, and waving in triumph, a\nfragment of the green riding-veil of Cora. The movement, the exhibition,\nand the cry which again burst from the lips of the young Mohican,\ninstantly drew the whole party about him.\n\n\"My child!\" said Munro, speaking quickly and wildly; \"give me my child!\"\n\n\"Uncas will try,\" was the short and touching answer.\n\nThe simple but meaning assurance was lost on the father, who seized\nthe piece of gauze, and crushed it in his hand, while his eyes roamed\nfearfully among the bushes, as if he equally dreaded and hoped for the\nsecrets they might reveal.\n\n\"Here are no dead,\" said Heyward; \"the storm seems not to have passed\nthis way.\"\n\n\"That's manifest; and clearer than the heavens above our heads,\"\nreturned the undisturbed scout; \"but either she, or they that have\nrobbed her, have passed the bush; for I remember the rag she wore to\nhide a face that all did love to look upon. Uncas, you are right; the\ndark-hair has been here, and she has fled like a frightened fawn, to the\nwood; none who could fly would remain to be murdered. Let us search\nfor the marks she left; for, to Indian eyes, I sometimes think a\nhumming-bird leaves his trail in the air.\"\n\nThe young Mohican darted away at the suggestion, and the scout had\nhardly done speaking, before the former raised a cry of success from the\nmargin of the forest. On reaching the spot, the anxious party perceived\nanother portion of the veil fluttering on the lower branch of a beech.\n\n\"Softly, softly,\" said the scout, extending his long rifle in front of\nthe eager Heyward; \"we now know our work, but the beauty of the trail\nmust not be deformed. A step too soon may give us hours of trouble. We\nhave them, though; that much is beyond denial.\"\n\n\"Bless ye, bless ye, worthy man!\" exclaimed Munro; \"whither then, have\nthey fled, and where are my babes?\"\n\n\"The path they have taken depends on many chances. If they have gone\nalone, they are quite as likely to move in a circle as straight, and\nthey may be within a dozen miles of us; but if the Hurons, or any of the\nFrench Indians, have laid hands on them, 'tis probably they are now\nnear the borders of the Canadas. But what matters that?\" continued the\ndeliberate scout, observing the powerful anxiety and disappointment\nthe listeners exhibited; \"here are the Mohicans and I on one end of\nthe trail, and, rely on it, we find the other, though they should be a\nhundred leagues asunder! Gently, gently, Uncas, you are as impatient\nas a man in the settlements; you forget that light feet leave but faint\nmarks!\"\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed Chingachgook, who had been occupied in examining an\nopening that had been evidently made through the low underbrush which\nskirted the forest; and who now stood erect, as he pointed downward, in\nthe attitude and with the air of a man who beheld a disgusting serpent.\n\n\"Here is the palpable impression of the footstep of a man,\" cried\nHeyward, bending over the indicated spot; \"he has trod in the margin of\nthis pool, and the mark cannot be mistaken. They are captives.\"\n\n\"Better so than left to starve in the wilderness,\" returned the scout;\n\"and they will leave a wider trail. I would wager fifty beaver skins\nagainst as many flints, that the Mohicans and I enter their wigwams\nwithin the month! Stoop to it, Uncas, and try what you can make of the\nmoccasin; for moccasin it plainly is, and no shoe.\"\n\nThe young Mohican bent over the track, and removing the scattered leaves\nfrom around the place, he examined it with much of that sort of scrutiny\nthat a money dealer, in these days of pecuniary doubts, would bestow on\na suspected due-bill. At length he arose from his knees, satisfied with\nthe result of the examination.\n\n\"Well, boy,\" demanded the attentive scout; \"what does it say? Can you\nmake anything of the tell-tale?\"\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil!\"\n\n\"Ha! that rampaging devil again! there will never be an end of his\nloping till 'killdeer' has said a friendly word to him.\"\n\nHeyward reluctantly admitted the truth of this intelligence, and now\nexpressed rather his hopes than his doubts by saying:\n\n\"One moccasin is so much like another, it is probable there is some\nmistake.\"\n\n\"One moccasin like another! you may as well say that one foot is like\nanother; though we all know that some are long, and others short; some\nbroad and others narrow; some with high, and some with low insteps; some\nintoed, and some out. One moccasin is no more like another than one book\nis like another: though they who can read in one are seldom able to tell\nthe marks of the other. Which is all ordered for the best, giving to\nevery man his natural advantages. Let me get down to it, Uncas; neither\nbook nor moccasin is the worse for having two opinions, instead of one.\"\nThe scout stooped to the task, and instantly added:\n\n\"You are right, boy; here is the patch we saw so often in the other\nchase. And the fellow will drink when he can get an opportunity; your\ndrinking Indian always learns to walk with a wider toe than the natural\nsavage, it being the gift of a drunkard to straddle, whether of white or\nred skin. 'Tis just the length and breadth, too! look at it, Sagamore;\nyou measured the prints more than once, when we hunted the varmints from\nGlenn's to the health springs.\"\n\nChingachgook complied; and after finishing his short examination, he\narose, and with a quiet demeanor, he merely pronounced the word:\n\n\"Magua!\"\n\n\"Ay, 'tis a settled thing; here, then, have passed the dark-hair and\nMagua.\"\n\n\"And not Alice?\" demanded Heyward.\n\n\"Of her we have not yet seen the signs,\" returned the scout, looking\nclosely around at the trees, the bushes and the ground. \"What have\nwe there? Uncas, bring hither the thing you see dangling from yonder\nthorn-bush.\"\n\nWhen the Indian had complied, the scout received the prize, and holding\nit on high, he laughed in his silent but heartfelt manner.\n\n\"'Tis the tooting we'pon of the singer! now we shall have a trail a\npriest might travel,\" he said. \"Uncas, look for the marks of a shoe that\nis long enough to uphold six feet two of tottering human flesh. I begin\nto have some hopes of the fellow, since he has given up squalling to\nfollow some better trade.\"\n\n\"At least he has been faithful to his trust,\" said Heyward. \"And Cora\nand Alice are not without a friend.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Hawkeye, dropping his rifle, and leaning on it with an air\nof visible contempt, \"he will do their singing. Can he slay a buck for\ntheir dinner; journey by the moss on the beeches, or cut the throat of\na Huron? If not, the first catbird* he meets is the cleverer of the two.\nWell, boy, any signs of such a foundation?\"\n\n     * The powers of the American mocking-bird are generally\n     known. But the true mocking-bird is not found so far north\n     as the state of New York, where it has, however, two\n     substitutes of inferior excellence, the catbird, so often\n     named by the scout, and the bird vulgarly called ground-\n     thresher. Either of these last two birds is superior to the\n     nightingale or the lark, though, in general, the American\n     birds are less musical than those of Europe.\n\n\"Here is something like the footstep of one who has worn a shoe; can it\nbe that of our friend?\"\n\n\"Touch the leaves lightly or you'll disconsart the formation. That! that\nis the print of a foot, but 'tis the dark-hair's; and small it is, too,\nfor one of such a noble height and grand appearance. The singer would\ncover it with his heel.\"\n\n\"Where! let me look on the footsteps of my child,\" said Munro, shoving\nthe bushes aside, and bending fondly over the nearly obliterated\nimpression. Though the tread which had left the mark had been light and\nrapid, it was still plainly visible. The aged soldier examined it with\neyes that grew dim as he gazed; nor did he rise from this stooping\nposture until Heyward saw that he had watered the trace of his\ndaughter's passage with a scalding tear. Willing to divert a distress\nwhich threatened each moment to break through the restraint of\nappearances, by giving the veteran something to do, the young man said\nto the scout:\n\n\"As we now possess these infallible signs, let us commence our march. A\nmoment, at such a time, will appear an age to the captives.\"\n\n\"It is not the swiftest leaping deer that gives the longest chase,\"\nreturned Hawkeye, without moving his eyes from the different marks that\nhad come under his view; \"we know that the rampaging Huron has passed,\nand the dark-hair, and the singer, but where is she of the yellow locks\nand blue eyes? Though little, and far from being as bold as her sister,\nshe is fair to the view, and pleasant in discourse. Has she no friend,\nthat none care for her?\"\n\n\"God forbid she should ever want hundreds! Are we not now in her\npursuit? For one, I will never cease the search till she be found.\"\n\n\"In that case we may have to journey by different paths; for here she\nhas not passed, light and little as her footsteps would be.\"\n\nHeyward drew back, all his ardor to proceed seeming to vanish on the\ninstant. Without attending to this sudden change in the other's humor,\nthe scout after musing a moment continued:\n\n\"There is no woman in this wilderness could leave such a print as that,\nbut the dark-hair or her sister. We know that the first has been here,\nbut where are the signs of the other? Let us push deeper on the trail,\nand if nothing offers, we must go back to the plain and strike another\nscent. Move on, Uncas, and keep your eyes on the dried leaves. I will\nwatch the bushes, while your father shall run with a low nose to the\nground. Move on, friends; the sun is getting behind the hills.\"\n\n\"Is there nothing that I can do?\" demanded the anxious Heyward.\n\n\"You?\" repeated the scout, who, with his red friends, was already\nadvancing in the order he had prescribed; \"yes, you can keep in our rear\nand be careful not to cross the trail.\"\n\nBefore they had proceeded many rods, the Indians stopped, and appeared\nto gaze at some signs on the earth with more than their usual keenness.\nBoth father and son spoke quick and loud, now looking at the object\nof their mutual admiration, and now regarding each other with the most\nunequivocal pleasure.\n\n\"They have found the little foot!\" exclaimed the scout, moving forward,\nwithout attending further to his own portion of the duty. \"What have\nwe here? An ambushment has been planted in the spot! No, by the truest\nrifle on the frontiers, here have been them one-sided horses again! Now\nthe whole secret is out, and all is plain as the north star at midnight.\nYes, here they have mounted. There the beasts have been bound to a\nsapling, in waiting; and yonder runs the broad path away to the north,\nin full sweep for the Canadas.\"\n\n\"But still there are no signs of Alice, of the younger Miss Munro,\" said\nDuncan.\n\n\"Unless the shining bauble Uncas has just lifted from the ground should\nprove one. Pass it this way, lad, that we may look at it.\"\n\nHeyward instantly knew it for a trinket that Alice was fond of wearing,\nand which he recollected, with the tenacious memory of a lover, to have\nseen, on the fatal morning of the massacre, dangling from the fair neck\nof his mistress. He seized the highly prized jewel; and as he proclaimed\nthe fact, it vanished from the eyes of the wondering scout, who in vain\nlooked for it on the ground, long after it was warmly pressed against\nthe beating heart of Duncan.\n\n\"Pshaw!\" said the disappointed Hawkeye, ceasing to rake the leaves with\nthe breech of his rifle; \"'tis a certain sign of age, when the sight\nbegins to weaken. Such a glittering gewgaw, and not to be seen! Well,\nwell, I can squint along a clouded barrel yet, and that is enough to\nsettle all disputes between me and the Mingoes. I should like to find\nthe thing, too, if it were only to carry it to the right owner, and that\nwould be bringing the two ends of what I call a long trail together,\nfor by this time the broad St. Lawrence, or perhaps, the Great Lakes\nthemselves, are between us.\"\n\n\"So much the more reason why we should not delay our march,\" returned\nHeyward; \"let us proceed.\"\n\n\"Young blood and hot blood, they say, are much the same thing. We are\nnot about to start on a squirrel hunt, or to drive a deer into the\nHorican, but to outlie for days and nights, and to stretch across\na wilderness where the feet of men seldom go, and where no bookish\nknowledge would carry you through harmless. An Indian never starts on\nsuch an expedition without smoking over his council-fire; and, though\na man of white blood, I honor their customs in this particular, seeing\nthat they are deliberate and wise. We will, therefore, go back, and\nlight our fire to-night in the ruins of the old fort, and in the morning\nwe shall be fresh, and ready to undertake our work like men, and not\nlike babbling women or eager boys.\"\n\nHeyward saw, by the manner of the scout, that altercation would be\nuseless. Munro had again sunk into that sort of apathy which had beset\nhim since his late overwhelming misfortunes, and from which he was\napparently to be roused only by some new and powerful excitement. Making\na merit of necessity, the young man took the veteran by the arm, and\nfollowed in the footsteps of the Indians and the scout, who had already\nbegun to retrace the path which conducted them to the plain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 19\n\n     \"Salar.--Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take\n     his flesh; what's that good for?\n     Shy.--To bait fish withal; if it will feed nothing else, it\n     will feed my revenge.\"\n     --Merchant of Venice\n\nThe shades of evening had come to increase the dreariness of the place,\nwhen the party entered the ruins of William Henry. The scout and his\ncompanions immediately made their preparations to pass the night there;\nbut with an earnestness and sobriety of demeanor that betrayed how\nmuch the unusual horrors they had just witnessed worked on even their\npractised feelings. A few fragments of rafters were reared against a\nblackened wall; and when Uncas had covered them slightly with brush,\nthe temporary accommodations were deemed sufficient. The young Indian\npointed toward his rude hut when his labor was ended; and Heyward, who\nunderstood the meaning of the silent gestures, gently urged Munro to\nenter. Leaving the bereaved old man alone with his sorrows, Duncan\nimmediately returned into the open air, too much excited himself to seek\nthe repose he had recommended to his veteran friend.\n\nWhile Hawkeye and the Indians lighted their fire and took their\nevening's repast, a frugal meal of dried bear's meat, the young man paid\na visit to that curtain of the dilapidated fort which looked out on the\nsheet of the Horican. The wind had fallen, and the waves were already\nrolling on the sandy beach beneath him, in a more regular and tempered\nsuccession. The clouds, as if tired of their furious chase, were\nbreaking asunder; the heavier volumes, gathering in black masses about\nthe horizon, while the lighter scud still hurried above the water, or\neddied among the tops of the mountains, like broken flights of birds,\nhovering around their roosts. Here and there, a red and fiery star\nstruggled through the drifting vapor, furnishing a lurid gleam of\nbrightness to the dull aspect of the heavens. Within the bosom of the\nencircling hills, an impenetrable darkness had already settled; and\nthe plain lay like a vast and deserted charnel-house, without omen or\nwhisper to disturb the slumbers of its numerous and hapless tenants.\n\nOf this scene, so chillingly in accordance with the past, Duncan stood\nfor many minutes a rapt observer. His eyes wandered from the bosom of\nthe mound, where the foresters were seated around their glimmering fire,\nto the fainter light which still lingered in the skies, and then rested\nlong and anxiously on the embodied gloom, which lay like a dreary\nvoid on that side of him where the dead reposed. He soon fancied that\ninexplicable sounds arose from the place, though so indistinct and\nstolen, as to render not only their nature but even their existence\nuncertain. Ashamed of his apprehensions, the young man turned toward the\nwater, and strove to divert his attention to the mimic stars that dimly\nglimmered on its moving surface. Still, his too-conscious ears performed\ntheir ungrateful duty, as if to warn him of some lurking danger. At\nlength, a swift trampling seemed, quite audibly, to rush athwart the\ndarkness. Unable any longer to quiet his uneasiness, Duncan spoke in a\nlow voice to the scout, requesting him to ascend the mound to the place\nwhere he stood. Hawkeye threw his rifle across an arm and complied, but\nwith an air so unmoved and calm, as to prove how much he counted on the\nsecurity of their position.\n\n\"Listen!\" said Duncan, when the other placed himself deliberately at his\nelbow; \"there are suppressed noises on the plain which may show Montcalm\nhas not yet entirely deserted his conquest.\"\n\n\"Then ears are better than eyes,\" said the undisturbed scout, who,\nhaving just deposited a portion of a bear between his grinders, spoke\nthick and slow, like one whose mouth was doubly occupied. \"I myself saw\nhim caged in Ty, with all his host; for your Frenchers, when they\nhave done a clever thing, like to get back, and have a dance, or a\nmerry-making, with the women over their success.\"\n\n\"I know not. An Indian seldom sleeps in war, and plunder may keep a\nHuron here after his tribe has departed. It would be well to extinguish\nthe fire, and have a watch--listen! you hear the noise I mean!\"\n\n\"An Indian more rarely lurks about the graves. Though ready to slay, and\nnot over regardful of the means, he is commonly content with the scalp,\nunless when blood is hot, and temper up; but after spirit is once fairly\ngone, he forgets his enmity, and is willing to let the dead find their\nnatural rest. Speaking of spirits, major, are you of opinion that the\nheaven of a red-skin and of us whites will be of one and the same?\"\n\n\"No doubt--no doubt. I thought I heard it again! or was it the rustling\nof the leaves in the top of the beech?\"\n\n\"For my own part,\" continued Hawkeye, turning his face for a moment\nin the direction indicated by Heyward, but with a vacant and careless\nmanner, \"I believe that paradise is ordained for happiness; and that\nmen will be indulged in it according to their dispositions and gifts.\nI, therefore, judge that a red-skin is not far from the truth when\nhe believes he is to find them glorious hunting grounds of which his\ntraditions tell; nor, for that matter, do I think it would be any\ndisparagement to a man without a cross to pass his time--\"\n\n\"You hear it again?\" interrupted Duncan.\n\n\"Ay, ay; when food is scarce, and when food is plenty, a wolf grows\nbold,\" said the unmoved scout. \"There would be picking, too, among the\nskins of the devils, if there was light and time for the sport. But,\nconcerning the life that is to come, major; I have heard preachers say,\nin the settlements, that heaven was a place of rest. Now, men's minds\ndiffer as to their ideas of enjoyment. For myself, and I say it with\nreverence to the ordering of Providence, it would be no great indulgence\nto be kept shut up in those mansions of which they preach, having a\nnatural longing for motion and the chase.\"\n\nDuncan, who was now made to understand the nature of the noise he had\nheard, answered, with more attention to the subject which the humor of\nthe scout had chosen for discussion, by saying:\n\n\"It is difficult to account for the feelings that may attend the last\ngreat change.\"\n\n\"It would be a change, indeed, for a man who has passed his days in\nthe open air,\" returned the single-minded scout; \"and who has so often\nbroken his fast on the head waters of the Hudson, to sleep within sound\nof the roaring Mohawk. But it is a comfort to know we serve a merciful\nMaster, though we do it each after his fashion, and with great tracts of\nwilderness atween us--what goes there?\"\n\n\"Is it not the rushing of the wolves you have mentioned?\"\n\nHawkeye slowly shook his head, and beckoned for Duncan to follow him\nto a spot to which the glare from the fire did not extend. When he\nhad taken this precaution, the scout placed himself in an attitude of\nintense attention and listened long and keenly for a repetition of the\nlow sound that had so unexpectedly startled him. His vigilance, however,\nseemed exercised in vain; for after a fruitless pause, he whispered to\nDuncan:\n\n\"We must give a call to Uncas. The boy has Indian senses, and he may\nhear what is hid from us; for, being a white-skin, I will not deny my\nnature.\"\n\nThe young Mohican, who was conversing in a low voice with his father,\nstarted as he heard the moaning of an owl, and, springing on his feet,\nhe looked toward the black mounds, as if seeking the place whence the\nsounds proceeded. The scout repeated the call, and in a few moments,\nDuncan saw the figure of Uncas stealing cautiously along the rampart, to\nthe spot where they stood.\n\nHawkeye explained his wishes in a very few words, which were spoken in\nthe Delaware tongue. So soon as Uncas was in possession of the reason\nwhy he was summoned, he threw himself flat on the turf; where, to the\neyes of Duncan, he appeared to lie quiet and motionless. Surprised at\nthe immovable attitude of the young warrior, and curious to observe\nthe manner in which he employed his faculties to obtain the desired\ninformation, Heyward advanced a few steps, and bent over the dark object\non which he had kept his eye riveted. Then it was he discovered that the\nform of Uncas vanished, and that he beheld only the dark outline of an\ninequality in the embankment.\n\n\"What has become of the Mohican?\" he demanded of the scout, stepping\nback in amazement; \"it was here that I saw him fall, and could have\nsworn that here he yet remained.\"\n\n\"Hist! speak lower; for we know not what ears are open, and the Mingoes\nare a quick-witted breed. As for Uncas, he is out on the plain, and the\nMaquas, if any such are about us, will find their equal.\"\n\n\"You think that Montcalm has not called off all his Indians? Let us give\nthe alarm to our companions, that we may stand to our arms. Here are\nfive of us, who are not unused to meet an enemy.\"\n\n\"Not a word to either, as you value your life. Look at the Sagamore, how\nlike a grand Indian chief he sits by the fire. If there are any skulkers\nout in the darkness, they will never discover, by his countenance, that\nwe suspect danger at hand.\"\n\n\"But they may discover him, and it will prove his death. His person can\nbe too plainly seen by the light of that fire, and he will become the\nfirst and most certain victim.\"\n\n\"It is undeniable that now you speak the truth,\" returned the scout,\nbetraying more anxiety than was usual; \"yet what can be done? A single\nsuspicious look might bring on an attack before we are ready to receive\nit. He knows, by the call I gave to Uncas, that we have struck a scent;\nI will tell him that we are on the trail of the Mingoes; his Indian\nnature will teach him how to act.\"\n\nThe scout applied his fingers to his mouth, and raised a low hissing\nsound, that caused Duncan at first to start aside, believing that he\nheard a serpent. The head of Chingachgook was resting on a hand, as he\nsat musing by himself but the moment he had heard the warning of the\nanimal whose name he bore, he arose to an upright position, and his dark\neyes glanced swiftly and keenly on every side of him. With his sudden\nand, perhaps, involuntary movement, every appearance of surprise or\nalarm ended. His rifle lay untouched, and apparently unnoticed, within\nreach of his hand. The tomahawk that he had loosened in his belt for the\nsake of ease, was even suffered to fall from its usual situation to the\nground, and his form seemed to sink, like that of a man whose nerves\nand sinews were suffered to relax for the purpose of rest. Cunningly\nresuming his former position, though with a change of hands, as if the\nmovement had been made merely to relieve the limb, the native awaited\nthe result with a calmness and fortitude that none but an Indian warrior\nwould have known how to exercise.\n\nBut Heyward saw that while to a less instructed eye the Mohican chief\nappeared to slumber, his nostrils were expanded, his head was turned a\nlittle to one side, as if to assist the organs of hearing, and that his\nquick and rapid glances ran incessantly over every object within the\npower of his vision.\n\n\"See the noble fellow!\" whispered Hawkeye, pressing the arm of Heyward;\n\"he knows that a look or a motion might disconsart our schemes, and put\nus at the mercy of them imps--\"\n\nHe was interrupted by the flash and report of a rifle. The air was\nfilled with sparks of fire, around that spot where the eyes of Heyward\nwere still fastened, with admiration and wonder. A second look told him\nthat Chingachgook had disappeared in the confusion. In the meantime, the\nscout had thrown forward his rifle, like one prepared for service, and\nawaited impatiently the moment when an enemy might rise to view.\nBut with the solitary and fruitless attempt made on the life of\nChingachgook, the attack appeared to have terminated. Once or twice the\nlisteners thought they could distinguish the distant rustling of bushes,\nas bodies of some unknown description rushed through them; nor was it\nlong before Hawkeye pointed out the \"scampering of the wolves,\" as they\nfled precipitately before the passage of some intruder on their proper\ndomains. After an impatient and breathless pause, a plunge was heard\nin the water, and it was immediately followed by the report of another\nrifle.\n\n\"There goes Uncas!\" said the scout; \"the boy bears a smart piece! I know\nits crack, as well as a father knows the language of his child, for I\ncarried the gun myself until a better offered.\"\n\n\"What can this mean?\" demanded Duncan, \"we are watched, and, as it would\nseem, marked for destruction.\"\n\n\"Yonder scattered brand can witness that no good was intended, and this\nIndian will testify that no harm has been done,\" returned the scout,\ndropping his rifle across his arm again, and following Chingachgook, who\njust then reappeared within the circle of light, into the bosom of the\nwork. \"How is it, Sagamore? Are the Mingoes upon us in earnest, or is it\nonly one of those reptiles who hang upon the skirts of a war-party,\nto scalp the dead, go in, and make their boast among the squaws of the\nvaliant deeds done on the pale faces?\"\n\nChingachgook very quietly resumed his seat; nor did he make any reply,\nuntil after he had examined the firebrand which had been struck by\nthe bullet that had nearly proved fatal to himself. After which he was\ncontent to reply, holding a single finger up to view, with the English\nmonosyllable:\n\n\"One.\"\n\n\"I thought as much,\" returned Hawkeye, seating himself; \"and as he had\ngot the cover of the lake afore Uncas pulled upon him, it is more than\nprobable the knave will sing his lies about some great ambushment,\nin which he was outlying on the trail of two Mohicans and a white\nhunter--for the officers can be considered as little better than idlers\nin such a scrimmage. Well, let him--let him. There are always some\nhonest men in every nation, though heaven knows, too, that they are\nscarce among the Maquas, to look down an upstart when he brags ag'in the\nface of reason. The varlet sent his lead within whistle of your ears,\nSagamore.\"\n\nChingachgook turned a calm and incurious eye toward the place where the\nball had struck, and then resumed his former attitude, with a composure\nthat could not be disturbed by so trifling an incident. Just then Uncas\nglided into the circle, and seated himself at the fire, with the same\nappearance of indifference as was maintained by his father.\n\nOf these several moments Heyward was a deeply interested and wondering\nobserver. It appeared to him as though the foresters had some secret\nmeans of intelligence, which had escaped the vigilance of his own\nfaculties. In place of that eager and garrulous narration with which\na white youth would have endeavored to communicate, and perhaps\nexaggerate, that which had passed out in the darkness of the plain,\nthe young warrior was seemingly content to let his deeds speak for\nthemselves. It was, in fact, neither the moment nor the occasion for an\nIndian to boast of his exploits; and it is probably that, had Heyward\nneglected to inquire, not another syllable would, just then, have been\nuttered on the subject.\n\n\"What has become of our enemy, Uncas?\" demanded Duncan; \"we heard your\nrifle, and hoped you had not fired in vain.\"\n\nThe young chief removed a fold of his hunting skirt, and quietly\nexposed the fatal tuft of hair, which he bore as the symbol of victory.\nChingachgook laid his hand on the scalp, and considered it for a moment\nwith deep attention. Then dropping it, with disgust depicted in his\nstrong features, he ejaculated:\n\n\"Oneida!\"\n\n\"Oneida!\" repeated the scout, who was fast losing his interest in the\nscene, in an apathy nearly assimilated to that of his red associates,\nbut who now advanced in uncommon earnestness to regard the bloody badge.\n\"By the Lord, if the Oneidas are outlying upon the trail, we shall by\nflanked by devils on every side of us! Now, to white eyes there is no\ndifference between this bit of skin and that of any other Indian, and\nyet the Sagamore declares it came from the poll of a Mingo; nay, he even\nnames the tribe of the poor devil, with as much ease as if the scalp was\nthe leaf of a book, and each hair a letter. What right have Christian\nwhites to boast of their learning, when a savage can read a language\nthat would prove too much for the wisest of them all! What say you, lad,\nof what people was the knave?\"\n\nUncas raised his eyes to the face of the scout, and answered, in his\nsoft voice:\n\n\"Oneida.\"\n\n\"Oneida, again! when one Indian makes a declaration it is commonly true;\nbut when he is supported by his people, set it down as gospel!\"\n\n\"The poor fellow has mistaken us for French,\" said Heyward; \"or he would\nnot have attempted the life of a friend.\"\n\n\"He mistake a Mohican in his paint for a Huron! You would be as likely\nto mistake the white-coated grenadiers of Montcalm for the scarlet\njackets of the Royal Americans,\" returned the scout. \"No, no, the\nsarpent knew his errand; nor was there any great mistake in the matter,\nfor there is but little love atween a Delaware and a Mingo, let their\ntribes go out to fight for whom they may, in a white quarrel. For\nthat matter, though the Oneidas do serve his sacred majesty, who is\nmy sovereign lord and master, I should not have deliberated long about\nletting off 'killdeer' at the imp myself, had luck thrown him in my\nway.\"\n\n\"That would have been an abuse of our treaties, and unworthy of your\ncharacter.\"\n\n\"When a man consort much with a people,\" continued Hawkeye, \"if they\nwere honest and he no knave, love will grow up atwixt them. It is true\nthat white cunning has managed to throw the tribes into great confusion,\nas respects friends and enemies; so that the Hurons and the Oneidas, who\nspeak the same tongue, or what may be called the same, take each other's\nscalps, and the Delawares are divided among themselves; a few hanging\nabout their great council-fire on their own river, and fighting on the\nsame side with the Mingoes while the greater part are in the Canadas,\nout of natural enmity to the Maquas--thus throwing everything into\ndisorder, and destroying all the harmony of warfare. Yet a red natur' is\nnot likely to alter with every shift of policy; so that the love atwixt\na Mohican and a Mingo is much like the regard between a white man and a\nsarpent.\"\n\n\"I regret to hear it; for I had believed those natives who dwelt within\nour boundaries had found us too just and liberal, not to identify\nthemselves fully with our quarrels.\"\n\n\"Why, I believe it is natur' to give a preference to one's own quarrels\nbefore those of strangers. Now, for myself, I do love justice; and,\ntherefore, I will not say I hate a Mingo, for that may be unsuitable to\nmy color and my religion, though I will just repeat, it may have been\nowing to the night that 'killdeer' had no hand in the death of this\nskulking Oneida.\"\n\nThen, as if satisfied with the force of his own reasons, whatever might\nbe their effect on the opinions of the other disputant, the honest but\nimplacable woodsman turned from the fire, content to let the controversy\nslumber. Heyward withdrew to the rampart, too uneasy and too little\naccustomed to the warfare of the woods to remain at ease under the\npossibility of such insidious attacks. Not so, however, with the scout\nand the Mohicans. Those acute and long-practised senses, whose powers so\noften exceed the limits of all ordinary credulity, after having detected\nthe danger, had enabled them to ascertain its magnitude and duration.\nNot one of the three appeared in the least to doubt their perfect\nsecurity, as was indicated by the preparations that were soon made to\nsit in council over their future proceedings.\n\nThe confusion of nations, and even of tribes, to which Hawkeye alluded,\nexisted at that period in the fullest force. The great tie of language,\nand, of course, of a common origin, was severed in many places; and it\nwas one of its consequences, that the Delaware and the Mingo (as the\npeople of the Six Nations were called) were found fighting in the same\nranks, while the latter sought the scalp of the Huron, though believed\nto be the root of his own stock. The Delawares were even divided among\nthemselves. Though love for the soil which had belonged to his ancestors\nkept the Sagamore of the Mohicans with a small band of followers who\nwere serving at Edward, under the banners of the English king, by far\nthe largest portion of his nation were known to be in the field as\nallies of Montcalm. The reader probably knows, if enough has not already\nbeen gleaned form this narrative, that the Delaware, or Lenape, claimed\nto be the progenitors of that numerous people, who once were masters\nof most of the eastern and northern states of America, of whom the\ncommunity of the Mohicans was an ancient and highly honored member.\n\nIt was, of course, with a perfect understanding of the minute and\nintricate interests which had armed friend against friend, and brought\nnatural enemies to combat by each other's side, that the scout and his\ncompanions now disposed themselves to deliberate on the measures that\nwere to govern their future movements, amid so many jarring and savage\nraces of men. Duncan knew enough of Indian customs to understand\nthe reason that the fire was replenished, and why the warriors, not\nexcepting Hawkeye, took their seats within the curl of its smoke with\nso much gravity and decorum. Placing himself at an angle of the works,\nwhere he might be a spectator of the scene without, he awaited the\nresult with as much patience as he could summon.\n\nAfter a short and impressive pause, Chingachgook lighted a pipe whose\nbowl was curiously carved in one of the soft stones of the country,\nand whose stem was a tube of wood, and commenced smoking. When he had\ninhaled enough of the fragrance of the soothing weed, he passed the\ninstrument into the hands of the scout. In this manner the pipe had made\nits rounds three several times, amid the most profound silence, before\neither of the party opened his lips. Then the Sagamore, as the oldest\nand highest in rank, in a few calm and dignified words, proposed the\nsubject for deliberation. He was answered by the scout; and Chingachgook\nrejoined, when the other objected to his opinions. But the youthful\nUncas continued a silent and respectful listener, until Hawkeye, in\ncomplaisance, demanded his opinion. Heyward gathered from the manners of\nthe different speakers, that the father and son espoused one side of a\ndisputed question, while the white man maintained the other. The contest\ngradually grew warmer, until it was quite evident the feelings of the\nspeakers began to be somewhat enlisted in the debate.\n\nNotwithstanding the increasing warmth of the amicable contest, the\nmost decorous Christian assembly, not even excepting those in which its\nreverend ministers are collected, might have learned a wholesome lesson\nof moderation from the forbearance and courtesy of the disputants. The\nwords of Uncas were received with the same deep attention as those which\nfell from the maturer wisdom of his father; and so far from manifesting\nany impatience, neither spoke in reply, until a few moments of silent\nmeditation were, seemingly, bestowed in deliberating on what had already\nbeen said.\n\nThe language of the Mohicans was accompanied by gestures so direct and\nnatural that Heyward had but little difficulty in following the thread\nof their argument. On the other hand, the scout was obscure; because\nfrom the lingering pride of color, he rather affected the cold and\nartificial manner which characterizes all classes of Anglo-Americans\nwhen unexcited. By the frequency with which the Indians described the\nmarks of a forest trial, it was evident they urged a pursuit by land,\nwhile the repeated sweep of Hawkeye's arm toward the Horican denoted\nthat he was for a passage across its waters.\n\nThe latter was to every appearance fast losing ground, and the point was\nabout to be decided against him, when he arose to his feet, and shaking\noff his apathy, he suddenly assumed the manner of an Indian, and adopted\nall the arts of native eloquence. Elevating an arm, he pointed out the\ntrack of the sun, repeating the gesture for every day that was necessary\nto accomplish their objects. Then he delineated a long and painful path,\namid rocks and water-courses. The age and weakness of the slumbering and\nunconscious Munro were indicated by signs too palpable to be mistaken.\nDuncan perceived that even his own powers were spoken lightly of, as\nthe scout extended his palm, and mentioned him by the appellation of\nthe \"Open Hand\"--a name his liberality had purchased of all the friendly\ntribes. Then came a representation of the light and graceful movements\nof a canoe, set in forcible contrast to the tottering steps of one\nenfeebled and tired. He concluded by pointing to the scalp of the\nOneida, and apparently urging the necessity of their departing speedily,\nand in a manner that should leave no trail.\n\nThe Mohicans listened gravely, and with countenances that reflected the\nsentiments of the speaker. Conviction gradually wrought its influence,\nand toward the close of Hawkeye's speech, his sentences were accompanied\nby the customary exclamation of commendation. In short, Uncas and his\nfather became converts to his way of thinking, abandoning their own\npreviously expressed opinions with a liberality and candor that, had\nthey been the representatives of some great and civilized people, would\nhave infallibly worked their political ruin, by destroying forever their\nreputation for consistency.\n\nThe instant the matter in discussion was decided, the debate, and\neverything connected with it, except the result appeared to be\nforgotten. Hawkeye, without looking round to read his triumph in\napplauding eyes, very composedly stretched his tall frame before the\ndying embers, and closed his own organs in sleep.\n\nLeft now in a measure to themselves, the Mohicans, whose time had been\nso much devoted to the interests of others, seized the moment to devote\nsome attention to themselves. Casting off at once the grave and austere\ndemeanor of an Indian chief, Chingachgook commenced speaking to his\nson in the soft and playful tones of affection. Uncas gladly met the\nfamiliar air of his father; and before the hard breathing of the scout\nannounced that he slept, a complete change was effected in the manner of\nhis two associates.\n\nIt is impossible to describe the music of their language, while thus\nengaged in laughter and endearments, in such a way as to render it\nintelligible to those whose ears have never listened to its melody.\nThe compass of their voices, particularly that of the youth, was\nwonderful--extending from the deepest bass to tones that were even\nfeminine in softness. The eyes of the father followed the plastic and\ningenious movements of the son with open delight, and he never failed to\nsmile in reply to the other's contagious but low laughter. While under\nthe influence of these gentle and natural feelings, no trace of ferocity\nwas to be seen in the softened features of the Sagamore. His figured\npanoply of death looked more like a disguise assumed in mockery than a\nfierce annunciation of a desire to carry destruction in his footsteps.\n\nAfter an hour had passed in the indulgence of their better feelings,\nChingachgook abruptly announced his desire to sleep, by wrapping his\nhead in his blanket and stretching his form on the naked earth. The\nmerriment of Uncas instantly ceased; and carefully raking the coals in\nsuch a manner that they should impart their warmth to his father's feet,\nthe youth sought his own pillow among the ruins of the place.\n\nImbibing renewed confidence from the security of these experienced\nforesters, Heyward soon imitated their example; and long before the\nnight had turned, they who lay in the bosom of the ruined work, seemed\nto slumber as heavily as the unconscious multitude whose bones were\nalready beginning to bleach on the surrounding plain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 20\n\n     \"Land of Albania! let me bend mine eyes\n     On thee; thou rugged nurse of savage men!\"\n     --Childe Harold\n\nThe heavens were still studded with stars, when Hawkeye came to arouse\nthe sleepers. Casting aside their cloaks Munro and Heyward were on their\nfeet while the woodsman was still making his low calls, at the entrance\nof the rude shelter where they had passed the night. When they issued\nfrom beneath its concealment, they found the scout awaiting their\nappearance nigh by, and the only salutation between them was the\nsignificant gesture for silence, made by their sagacious leader.\n\n\"Think over your prayers,\" he whispered, as they approached him; \"for He\nto whom you make them, knows all tongues; that of the heart, as well\nas those of the mouth. But speak not a syllable; it is rare for a white\nvoice to pitch itself properly in the woods, as we have seen by the\nexample of that miserable devil, the singer. Come,\" he continued,\nturning toward a curtain of the works; \"let us get into the ditch on\nthis side, and be regardful to step on the stones and fragments of wood\nas you go.\"\n\nHis companions complied, though to two of them the reasons of this\nextraordinary precaution were yet a mystery. When they were in the low\ncavity that surrounded the earthen fort on three sides, they found that\npassage nearly choked by the ruins. With care and patience, however,\nthey succeeded in clambering after the scout, until they reached the\nsandy shore of the Horican.\n\n\"That's a trail that nothing but a nose can follow,\" said the satisfied\nscout, looking back along their difficult way; \"grass is a treacherous\ncarpet for a flying party to tread on, but wood and stone take no print\nfrom a moccasin. Had you worn your armed boots, there might, indeed,\nhave been something to fear; but with the deer-skin suitably prepared,\na man may trust himself, generally, on rocks with safety. Shove in the\ncanoe nigher to the land, Uncas; this sand will take a stamp as easily\nas the butter of the Jarmans on the Mohawk. Softly, lad, softly; it must\nnot touch the beach, or the knaves will know by what road we have left\nthe place.\"\n\nThe young man observed the precaution; and the scout, laying a board\nfrom the ruins to the canoe, made a sign for the two officers to enter.\nWhen this was done, everything was studiously restored to its former\ndisorder; and then Hawkeye succeeded in reaching his little birchen\nvessel, without leaving behind him any of those marks which he appeared\nso much to dread. Heyward was silent until the Indians had cautiously\npaddled the canoe some distance from the fort, and within the broad and\ndark shadows that fell from the eastern mountain on the glassy surface\nof the lake; then he demanded:\n\n\"What need have we for this stolen and hurried departure?\"\n\n\"If the blood of an Oneida could stain such a sheet of pure water as\nthis we float on,\" returned the scout, \"your two eyes would answer your\nown question. Have you forgotten the skulking reptile Uncas slew?\"\n\n\"By no means. But he was said to be alone, and dead men give no cause\nfor fear.\"\n\n\"Ay, he was alone in his deviltry! but an Indian whose tribe counts so\nmany warriors, need seldom fear his blood will run without the death\nshriek coming speedily from some of his enemies.\"\n\n\"But our presence--the authority of Colonel Munro--would prove\nsufficient protection against the anger of our allies, especially in a\ncase where the wretch so well merited his fate. I trust in Heaven you\nhave not deviated a single foot from the direct line of our course with\nso slight a reason!\"\n\n\"Do you think the bullet of that varlet's rifle would have turned aside,\nthough his sacred majesty the king had stood in its path?\" returned\nthe stubborn scout. \"Why did not the grand Frencher, he who is\ncaptain-general of the Canadas, bury the tomahawks of the Hurons, if a\nword from a white can work so strongly on the natur' of an Indian?\"\n\nThe reply of Heyward was interrupted by a groan from Munro; but after\nhe had paused a moment, in deference to the sorrow of his aged friend he\nresumed the subject.\n\n\"The marquis of Montcalm can only settle that error with his God,\" said\nthe young man solemnly.\n\n\"Ay, ay, now there is reason in your words, for they are bottomed on\nreligion and honesty. There is a vast difference between throwing a\nregiment of white coats atwixt the tribes and the prisoners, and coaxing\nan angry savage to forget he carries a knife and rifle, with words that\nmust begin with calling him your son. No, no,\" continued the scout,\nlooking back at the dim shore of William Henry, which was now fast\nreceding, and laughing in his own silent but heartfelt manner; \"I have\nput a trail of water atween us; and unless the imps can make friends\nwith the fishes, and hear who has paddled across their basin this fine\nmorning, we shall throw the length of the Horican behind us before they\nhave made up their minds which path to take.\"\n\n\"With foes in front, and foes in our rear, our journey is like to be one\nof danger.\"\n\n\"Danger!\" repeated Hawkeye, calmly; \"no, not absolutely of danger; for,\nwith vigilant ears and quick eyes, we can manage to keep a few hours\nahead of the knaves; or, if we must try the rifle, there are three of us\nwho understand its gifts as well as any you can name on the borders. No,\nnot of danger; but that we shall have what you may call a brisk push of\nit, is probable; and it may happen, a brush, a scrimmage, or some such\ndivarsion, but always where covers are good, and ammunition abundant.\"\n\nIt is possible that Heyward's estimate of danger differed in some degree\nfrom that of the scout, for, instead of replying, he now sat in silence,\nwhile the canoe glided over several miles of water. Just as the day\ndawned, they entered the narrows of the lake*, and stole swiftly and\ncautiously among their numberless little islands. It was by this road\nthat Montcalm had retired with his army, and the adventurers knew not\nbut he had left some of his Indians in ambush, to protect the rear of\nhis forces, and collect the stragglers. They, therefore, approached the\npassage with the customary silence of their guarded habits.\n\n     * The beauties of Lake George are well known to every\n     American tourist. In the height of the mountains which\n     surround it, and in artificial accessories, it is inferior\n     to the finest of the Swiss and Italian lakes, while in\n     outline and purity of water it is fully their equal; and in\n     the number and disposition of its isles and islets much\n     superior to them all together. There are said to be some\n     hundreds of islands in a sheet of water less than thirty\n     miles long. The narrows, which connect what may be called,\n     in truth, two lakes, are crowded with islands to such a\n     degree as to leave passages between them frequently of only\n     a few feet in width. The lake itself varies in breadth from\n     one to three miles.\n\nChingachgook laid aside his paddle; while Uncas and the scout urged the\nlight vessel through crooked and intricate channels, where every foot\nthat they advanced exposed them to the danger of some sudden rising\non their progress. The eyes of the Sagamore moved warily from islet to\nislet, and copse to copse, as the canoe proceeded; and, when a clearer\nsheet of water permitted, his keen vision was bent along the bald rocks\nand impending forests that frowned upon the narrow strait.\n\nHeyward, who was a doubly interested spectator, as well from the\nbeauties of the place as from the apprehension natural to his situation,\nwas just believing that he had permitted the latter to be excited\nwithout sufficient reason, when the paddle ceased moving, in obedience\nto a signal from Chingachgook.\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed Uncas, nearly at the moment that the light tap his\nfather had made on the side of the canoe notified them of the vicinity\nof danger.\n\n\"What now?\" asked the scout; \"the lake is as smooth as if the winds had\nnever blown, and I can see along its sheet for miles; there is not so\nmuch as the black head of a loon dotting the water.\"\n\nThe Indian gravely raised his paddle, and pointed in the direction\nin which his own steady look was riveted. Duncan's eyes followed the\nmotion. A few rods in their front lay another of the wooded islets,\nbut it appeared as calm and peaceful as if its solitude had never been\ndisturbed by the foot of man.\n\n\"I see nothing,\" he said, \"but land and water; and a lovely scene it\nis.\"\n\n\"Hist!\" interrupted the scout. \"Ay, Sagamore, there is always a reason\nfor what you do. 'Tis but a shade, and yet it is not natural. You see\nthe mist, major, that is rising above the island; you can't call it a\nfog, for it is more like a streak of thin cloud--\"\n\n\"It is vapor from the water.\"\n\n\"That a child could tell. But what is the edging of blacker smoke\nthat hangs along its lower side, and which you may trace down into the\nthicket of hazel? 'Tis from a fire; but one that, in my judgment, has\nbeen suffered to burn low.\"\n\n\"Let us, then, push for the place, and relieve our doubts,\" said the\nimpatient Duncan; \"the party must be small that can lie on such a bit of\nland.\"\n\n\"If you judge of Indian cunning by the rules you find in books, or\nby white sagacity, they will lead you astray, if not to your death,\"\nreturned Hawkeye, examining the signs of the place with that acuteness\nwhich distinguished him. \"If I may be permitted to speak in this matter,\nit will be to say, that we have but two things to choose between: the\none is, to return, and give up all thoughts of following the Hurons--\"\n\n\"Never!\" exclaimed Heyward, in a voice far too loud for their\ncircumstances.\n\n\"Well, well,\" continued Hawkeye, making a hasty sign to repress his\nimpatience; \"I am much of your mind myself; though I thought it becoming\nmy experience to tell the whole. We must, then, make a push, and if the\nIndians or Frenchers are in the narrows, run the gauntlet through these\ntoppling mountains. Is there reason in my words, Sagamore?\"\n\nThe Indian made no other answer than by dropping his paddle into the\nwater, and urging forward the canoe. As he held the office of directing\nits course, his resolution was sufficiently indicated by the movement.\nThe whole party now plied their paddles vigorously, and in a very few\nmoments they had reached a point whence they might command an entire\nview of the northern shore of the island, the side that had hitherto\nbeen concealed.\n\n\"There they are, by all the truth of signs,\" whispered the scout, \"two\ncanoes and a smoke. The knaves haven't yet got their eyes out of the\nmist, or we should hear the accursed whoop. Together, friends! we are\nleaving them, and are already nearly out of whistle of a bullet.\"\n\nThe well-known crack of a rifle, whose ball came skipping along the\nplacid surface of the strait, and a shrill yell from the island,\ninterrupted his speech, and announced that their passage was discovered.\nIn another instant several savages were seen rushing into canoes, which\nwere soon dancing over the water in pursuit. These fearful precursors of\na coming struggle produced no change in the countenances and movements\nof his three guides, so far as Duncan could discover, except that the\nstrokes of their paddles were longer and more in unison, and caused\nthe little bark to spring forward like a creature possessing life and\nvolition.\n\n\"Hold them there, Sagamore,\" said Hawkeye, looking coolly backward over\nthis left shoulder, while he still plied his paddle; \"keep them just\nthere. Them Hurons have never a piece in their nation that will execute\nat this distance; but 'killdeer' has a barrel on which a man may\ncalculate.\"\n\nThe scout having ascertained that the Mohicans were sufficient of\nthemselves to maintain the requisite distance, deliberately laid aside\nhis paddle, and raised the fatal rifle. Three several times he brought\nthe piece to his shoulder, and when his companions were expecting its\nreport, he as often lowered it to request the Indians would permit\ntheir enemies to approach a little nigher. At length his accurate and\nfastidious eye seemed satisfied, and, throwing out his left arm on the\nbarrel, he was slowly elevating the muzzle, when an exclamation from\nUncas, who sat in the bow, once more caused him to suspend the shot.\n\n\"What, now, lad?\" demanded Hawkeye; \"you save a Huron from the\ndeath-shriek by that word; have you reason for what you do?\"\n\nUncas pointed toward a rocky shore a little in their front, whence\nanother war canoe was darting directly across their course. It was too\nobvious now that their situation was imminently perilous to need the aid\nof language to confirm it. The scout laid aside his rifle, and resumed\nthe paddle, while Chingachgook inclined the bows of the canoe a little\ntoward the western shore, in order to increase the distance between them\nand this new enemy. In the meantime they were reminded of the presence\nof those who pressed upon their rear, by wild and exulting shouts. The\nstirring scene awakened even Munro from his apathy.\n\n\"Let us make for the rocks on the main,\" he said, with the mien of a\ntired soldier, \"and give battle to the savages. God forbid that I, or\nthose attached to me and mine, should ever trust again to the faith of\nany servant of the Louis's!\"\n\n\"He who wishes to prosper in Indian warfare,\" returned the scout, \"must\nnot be too proud to learn from the wit of a native. Lay her more along\nthe land, Sagamore; we are doubling on the varlets, and perhaps they may\ntry to strike our trail on the long calculation.\"\n\nHawkeye was not mistaken; for when the Hurons found their course was\nlikely to throw them behind their chase they rendered it less direct,\nuntil, by gradually bearing more and more obliquely, the two canoes\nwere, ere long, gliding on parallel lines, within two hundred yards of\neach other. It now became entirely a trial of speed. So rapid was the\nprogress of the light vessels, that the lake curled in their front, in\nminiature waves, and their motion became undulating by its own velocity.\nIt was, perhaps, owing to this circumstance, in addition to the\nnecessity of keeping every hand employed at the paddles, that the Hurons\nhad not immediate recourse to their firearms. The exertions of the\nfugitives were too severe to continue long, and the pursuers had the\nadvantage of numbers. Duncan observed with uneasiness, that the scout\nbegan to look anxiously about him, as if searching for some further\nmeans of assisting their flight.\n\n\"Edge her a little more from the sun, Sagamore,\" said the stubborn\nwoodsman; \"I see the knaves are sparing a man to the rifle. A single\nbroken bone might lose us our scalps. Edge more from the sun and we will\nput the island between us.\"\n\nThe expedient was not without its use. A long, low island lay at a\nlittle distance before them, and, as they closed with it, the chasing\ncanoe was compelled to take a side opposite to that on which the pursued\npassed. The scout and his companions did not neglect this advantage, but\nthe instant they were hid from observation by the bushes, they redoubled\nefforts that before had seemed prodigious. The two canoes came round\nthe last low point, like two coursers at the top of their speed, the\nfugitives taking the lead. This change had brought them nigher to each\nother, however, while it altered their relative positions.\n\n\"You showed knowledge in the shaping of a birchen bark, Uncas, when\nyou chose this from among the Huron canoes,\" said the scout, smiling,\napparently more in satisfaction at their superiority in the race than\nfrom that prospect of final escape which now began to open a little upon\nthem. \"The imps have put all their strength again at the paddles, and we\nare to struggle for our scalps with bits of flattened wood, instead of\nclouded barrels and true eyes. A long stroke, and together, friends.\"\n\n\"They are preparing for a shot,\" said Heyward; \"and as we are in a line\nwith them, it can scarcely fail.\"\n\n\"Get you, then, into the bottom of the canoe,\" returned the scout; \"you\nand the colonel; it will be so much taken from the size of the mark.\"\n\nHeyward smiled, as he answered:\n\n\"It would be but an ill example for the highest in rank to dodge, while\nthe warriors were under fire.\"\n\n\"Lord! Lord! That is now a white man's courage!\" exclaimed the scout;\n\"and like to many of his notions, not to be maintained by reason. Do you\nthink the Sagamore, or Uncas, or even I, who am a man without a cross,\nwould deliberate about finding a cover in the scrimmage, when an open\nbody would do no good? For what have the Frenchers reared up their\nQuebec, if fighting is always to be done in the clearings?\"\n\n\"All that you say is very true, my friend,\" replied Heyward; \"still, our\ncustoms must prevent us from doing as you wish.\"\n\nA volley from the Hurons interrupted the discourse, and as the bullets\nwhistled about them, Duncan saw the head of Uncas turned, looking back\nat himself and Munro. Notwithstanding the nearness of the enemy, and\nhis own great personal danger, the countenance of the young warrior\nexpressed no other emotion, as the former was compelled to think, than\namazement at finding men willing to encounter so useless an exposure.\nChingachgook was probably better acquainted with the notions of white\nmen, for he did not even cast a glance aside from the riveted look his\neye maintained on the object by which he governed their course. A ball\nsoon struck the light and polished paddle from the hands of the chief,\nand drove it through the air, far in the advance. A shout arose from\nthe Hurons, who seized the opportunity to fire another volley. Uncas\ndescribed an arc in the water with his own blade, and as the canoe\npassed swiftly on, Chingachgook recovered his paddle, and flourishing\nit on high, he gave the war-whoop of the Mohicans, and then lent his\nstrength and skill again to the important task.\n\nThe clamorous sounds of \"Le Gros Serpent!\" \"La Longue Carabine!\" \"Le\nCerf Agile!\" burst at once from the canoes behind, and seemed to give\nnew zeal to the pursuers. The scout seized \"killdeer\" in his left hand,\nand elevating it about his head, he shook it in triumph at his enemies.\nThe savages answered the insult with a yell, and immediately another\nvolley succeeded. The bullets pattered along the lake, and one even\npierced the bark of their little vessel. No perceptible emotion could\nbe discovered in the Mohicans during this critical moment, their rigid\nfeatures expressing neither hope nor alarm; but the scout again turned\nhis head, and, laughing in his own silent manner, he said to Heyward:\n\n\"The knaves love to hear the sounds of their pieces; but the eye is\nnot to be found among the Mingoes that can calculate a true range in a\ndancing canoe! You see the dumb devils have taken off a man to charge,\nand by the smallest measurement that can be allowed, we move three feet\nto their two!\"\n\nDuncan, who was not altogether as easy under this nice estimate of\ndistances as his companions, was glad to find, however, that owing to\ntheir superior dexterity, and the diversion among their enemies, they\nwere very sensibly obtaining the advantage. The Hurons soon fired again,\nand a bullet struck the blade of Hawkeye's paddle without injury.\n\n\"That will do,\" said the scout, examining the slight indentation with a\ncurious eye; \"it would not have cut the skin of an infant, much less of\nmen, who, like us, have been blown upon by the heavens in their anger.\nNow, major, if you will try to use this piece of flattened wood, I'll\nlet 'killdeer' take a part in the conversation.\"\n\nHeyward seized the paddle, and applied himself to the work with an\neagerness that supplied the place of skill, while Hawkeye was engaged\nin inspecting the priming of his rifle. The latter then took a swift aim\nand fired. The Huron in the bows of the leading canoe had risen with a\nsimilar object, and he now fell backward, suffering his gun to escape\nfrom his hands into the water. In an instant, however, he recovered his\nfeet, though his gestures were wild and bewildered. At the same moment\nhis companions suspended their efforts, and the chasing canoes clustered\ntogether, and became stationary. Chingachgook and Uncas profited by the\ninterval to regain their wind, though Duncan continued to work with\nthe most persevering industry. The father and son now cast calm but\ninquiring glances at each other, to learn if either had sustained any\ninjury by the fire; for both well knew that no cry or exclamation\nwould, in such a moment of necessity have been permitted to betray the\naccident. A few large drops of blood were trickling down the shoulder\nof the Sagamore, who, when he perceived that the eyes of Uncas dwelt\ntoo long on the sight, raised some water in the hollow of his hand, and\nwashing off the stain, was content to manifest, in this simple manner,\nthe slightness of the injury.\n\n\"Softly, softly, major,\" said the scout, who by this time had reloaded\nhis rifle; \"we are a little too far already for a rifle to put forth its\nbeauties, and you see yonder imps are holding a council. Let them\ncome up within striking distance--my eye may well be trusted in such\na matter--and I will trail the varlets the length of the Horican,\nguaranteeing that not a shot of theirs shall, at the worst, more than\nbreak the skin, while 'killdeer' shall touch the life twice in three\ntimes.\"\n\n\"We forget our errand,\" returned the diligent Duncan. \"For God's sake\nlet us profit by this advantage, and increase our distance from the\nenemy.\"\n\n\"Give me my children,\" said Munro, hoarsely; \"trifle no longer with a\nfather's agony, but restore me my babes.\"\n\nLong and habitual deference to the mandates of his superiors had taught\nthe scout the virtue of obedience. Throwing a last and lingering glance\nat the distant canoes, he laid aside his rifle, and, relieving the\nwearied Duncan, resumed the paddle, which he wielded with sinews that\nnever tired. His efforts were seconded by those of the Mohicans and a\nvery few minutes served to place such a sheet of water between them and\ntheir enemies, that Heyward once more breathed freely.\n\nThe lake now began to expand, and their route lay along a wide reach,\nthat was lined, as before, by high and ragged mountains. But the islands\nwere few, and easily avoided. The strokes of the paddles grew more\nmeasured and regular, while they who plied them continued their labor,\nafter the close and deadly chase from which they had just relieved\nthemselves, with as much coolness as though their speed had been tried\nin sport, rather than under such pressing, nay, almost desperate,\ncircumstances.\n\nInstead of following the western shore, whither their errand led them,\nthe wary Mohican inclined his course more toward those hills behind\nwhich Montcalm was known to have led his army into the formidable\nfortress of Ticonderoga. As the Hurons, to every appearance, had\nabandoned the pursuit, there was no apparent reason for this excess of\ncaution. It was, however, maintained for hours, until they had reached\na bay, nigh the northern termination of the lake. Here the canoe was\ndriven upon the beach, and the whole party landed. Hawkeye and Heyward\nascended an adjacent bluff, where the former, after considering the\nexpanse of water beneath him, pointed out to the latter a small black\nobject, hovering under a headland, at the distance of several miles.\n\n\"Do you see it?\" demanded the scout. \"Now, what would you account that\nspot, were you left alone to white experience to find your way through\nthis wilderness?\"\n\n\"But for its distance and its magnitude, I should suppose it a bird. Can\nit be a living object?\"\n\n\"'Tis a canoe of good birchen bark, and paddled by fierce and crafty\nMingoes. Though Providence has lent to those who inhabit the woods\neyes that would be needless to men in the settlements, where there are\ninventions to assist the sight, yet no human organs can see all the\ndangers which at this moment circumvent us. These varlets pretend to be\nbent chiefly on their sun-down meal, but the moment it is dark they will\nbe on our trail, as true as hounds on the scent. We must throw them\noff, or our pursuit of Le Renard Subtil may be given up. These lakes are\nuseful at times, especially when the game take the water,\" continued the\nscout, gazing about him with a countenance of concern; \"but they give no\ncover, except it be to the fishes. God knows what the country would\nbe, if the settlements should ever spread far from the two rivers. Both\nhunting and war would lose their beauty.\"\n\n\"Let us not delay a moment, without some good and obvious cause.\"\n\n\"I little like that smoke, which you may see worming up along the rock\nabove the canoe,\" interrupted the abstracted scout. \"My life on it,\nother eyes than ours see it, and know its meaning. Well, words will not\nmend the matter, and it is time that we were doing.\"\n\nHawkeye moved away from the lookout, and descended, musing profoundly,\nto the shore. He communicated the result of his observations to his\ncompanions, in Delaware, and a short and earnest consultation succeeded.\nWhen it terminated, the three instantly set about executing their new\nresolutions.\n\nThe canoe was lifted from the water, and borne on the shoulders of the\nparty, they proceeded into the wood, making as broad and obvious a trail\nas possible. They soon reached the water-course, which they crossed,\nand, continuing onward, until they came to an extensive and naked rock.\nAt this point, where their footsteps might be expected to be no longer\nvisible, they retraced their route to the brook, walking backward, with\nthe utmost care. They now followed the bed of the little stream to the\nlake, into which they immediately launched their canoe again. A low\npoint concealed them from the headland, and the margin of the lake was\nfringed for some distance with dense and overhanging bushes. Under the\ncover of these natural advantages, they toiled their way, with patient\nindustry, until the scout pronounced that he believed it would be safe\nonce more to land.\n\nThe halt continued until evening rendered objects indistinct and\nuncertain to the eye. Then they resumed their route, and, favored by\nthe darkness, pushed silently and vigorously toward the western shore.\nAlthough the rugged outline of mountain, to which they were steering,\npresented no distinctive marks to the eyes of Duncan, the Mohican\nentered the little haven he had selected with the confidence and\naccuracy of an experienced pilot.\n\nThe boat was again lifted and borne into the woods, where it was\ncarefully concealed under a pile of brush. The adventurers assumed their\narms and packs, and the scout announced to Munro and Heyward that he and\nthe Indians were at last in readiness to proceed.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 21\n\n     \"If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death.\"\n     --Merry Wives of Windsor.\n\nThe party had landed on the border of a region that is, even to this\nday, less known to the inhabitants of the States than the deserts\nof Arabia, or the steppes of Tartary. It was the sterile and rugged\ndistrict which separates the tributaries of Champlain from those of the\nHudson, the Mohawk, and the St. Lawrence. Since the period of our tale\nthe active spirit of the country has surrounded it with a belt of rich\nand thriving settlements, though none but the hunter or the savage is\never known even now to penetrate its wild recesses.\n\nAs Hawkeye and the Mohicans had, however, often traversed the mountains\nand valleys of this vast wilderness, they did not hesitate to plunge\ninto its depth, with the freedom of men accustomed to its privations\nand difficulties. For many hours the travelers toiled on their laborious\nway, guided by a star, or following the direction of some water-course,\nuntil the scout called a halt, and holding a short consultation with\nthe Indians, they lighted their fire, and made the usual preparations to\npass the remainder of the night where they then were.\n\nImitating the example, and emulating the confidence of their more\nexperienced associates, Munro and Duncan slept without fear, if not\nwithout uneasiness. The dews were suffered to exhale, and the sun had\ndispersed the mists, and was shedding a strong and clear light in the\nforest, when the travelers resumed their journey.\n\nAfter proceeding a few miles, the progress of Hawkeye, who led the\nadvance, became more deliberate and watchful. He often stopped to\nexamine the trees; nor did he cross a rivulet without attentively\nconsidering the quantity, the velocity, and the color of its waters.\nDistrusting his own judgment, his appeals to the opinion of Chingachgook\nwere frequent and earnest. During one of these conferences Heyward\nobserved that Uncas stood a patient and silent, though, as he imagined,\nan interested listener. He was strongly tempted to address the young\nchief, and demand his opinion of their progress; but the calm and\ndignified demeanor of the native induced him to believe, that, like\nhimself, the other was wholly dependent on the sagacity and intelligence\nof the seniors of the party. At last the scout spoke in English, and at\nonce explained the embarrassment of their situation.\n\n\"When I found that the home path of the Hurons run north,\" he said, \"it\ndid not need the judgment of many long years to tell that they would\nfollow the valleys, and keep atween the waters of the Hudson and the\nHorican, until they might strike the springs of the Canada streams,\nwhich would lead them into the heart of the country of the Frenchers.\nYet here are we, within a short range of the Scaroons, and not a sign of\na trail have we crossed! Human natur' is weak, and it is possible we may\nnot have taken the proper scent.\"\n\n\"Heaven protect us from such an error!\" exclaimed Duncan. \"Let us\nretrace our steps, and examine as we go, with keener eyes. Has Uncas no\ncounsel to offer in such a strait?\"\n\nThe young Mohican cast a glance at his father, but, maintaining his\nquiet and reserved mien, he continued silent. Chingachgook had caught\nthe look, and motioning with his hand, he bade him speak. The moment\nthis permission was accorded, the countenance of Uncas changed from its\ngrave composure to a gleam of intelligence and joy. Bounding forward\nlike a deer, he sprang up the side of a little acclivity, a few rods in\nadvance, and stood, exultingly, over a spot of fresh earth, that looked\nas though it had been recently upturned by the passage of some heavy\nanimal. The eyes of the whole party followed the unexpected movement,\nand read their success in the air of triumph that the youth assumed.\n\n\"'Tis the trail!\" exclaimed the scout, advancing to the spot; \"the lad\nis quick of sight and keen of wit for his years.\"\n\n\"'Tis extraordinary that he should have withheld his knowledge so long,\"\nmuttered Duncan, at his elbow.\n\n\"It would have been more wonderful had he spoken without a bidding.\nNo, no; your young white, who gathers his learning from books and can\nmeasure what he knows by the page, may conceit that his knowledge, like\nhis legs, outruns that of his fathers', but, where experience is the\nmaster, the scholar is made to know the value of years, and respects\nthem accordingly.\"\n\n\"See!\" said Uncas, pointing north and south, at the evident marks of the\nbroad trail on either side of him, \"the dark-hair has gone toward the\nforest.\"\n\n\"Hound never ran on a more beautiful scent,\" responded the scout,\ndashing forward, at once, on the indicated route; \"we are favored,\ngreatly favored, and can follow with high noses. Ay, here are both your\nwaddling beasts: this Huron travels like a white general. The fellow is\nstricken with a judgment, and is mad! Look sharp for wheels, Sagamore,\"\nhe continued, looking back, and laughing in his newly awakened\nsatisfaction; \"we shall soon have the fool journeying in a coach, and\nthat with three of the best pair of eyes on the borders in his rear.\"\n\nThe spirits of the scout, and the astonishing success of the chase, in\nwhich a circuitous distance of more than forty miles had been passed,\ndid not fail to impart a portion of hope to the whole party. Their\nadvance was rapid; and made with as much confidence as a traveler would\nproceed along a wide highway. If a rock, or a rivulet, or a bit of earth\nharder than common, severed the links of the clew they followed, the\ntrue eye of the scout recovered them at a distance, and seldom rendered\nthe delay of a single moment necessary. Their progress was much\nfacilitated by the certainty that Magua had found it necessary to\njourney through the valleys; a circumstance which rendered the general\ndirection of the route sure. Nor had the Huron entirely neglected the\narts uniformly practised by the natives when retiring in front of an\nenemy. False trails and sudden turnings were frequent, wherever a brook\nor the formation of the ground rendered them feasible; but his pursuers\nwere rarely deceived, and never failed to detect their error, before\nthey had lost either time or distance on the deceptive track.\n\nBy the middle of the afternoon they had passed the Scaroons, and were\nfollowing the route of the declining sun. After descending an eminence\nto a low bottom, through which a swift stream glided, they suddenly came\nto a place where the party of Le Renard had made a halt. Extinguished\nbrands were lying around a spring, the offals of a deer were scattered\nabout the place, and the trees bore evident marks of having been\nbrowsed by the horses. At a little distance, Heyward discovered, and\ncontemplated with tender emotion, the small bower under which he was\nfain to believe that Cora and Alice had reposed. But while the earth\nwas trodden, and the footsteps of both men and beasts were so plainly\nvisible around the place, the trail appeared to have suddenly ended.\n\nIt was easy to follow the tracks of the Narragansetts, but they seemed\nonly to have wandered without guides, or any other object than the\npursuit of food. At length Uncas, who, with his father, had endeavored\nto trace the route of the horses, came upon a sign of their presence\nthat was quite recent. Before following the clew, he communicated his\nsuccess to his companions; and while the latter were consulting on the\ncircumstance, the youth reappeared, leading the two fillies, with\ntheir saddles broken, and the housings soiled, as though they had been\npermitted to run at will for several days.\n\n\"What should this prove?\" said Duncan, turning pale, and glancing his\neyes around him, as if he feared the brush and leaves were about to give\nup some horrid secret.\n\n\"That our march is come to a quick end, and that we are in an enemy's\ncountry,\" returned the scout. \"Had the knave been pressed, and the\ngentle ones wanted horses to keep up with the party, he might have taken\ntheir scalps; but without an enemy at his heels, and with such rugged\nbeasts as these, he would not hurt a hair of their heads. I know your\nthoughts, and shame be it to our color that you have reason for them;\nbut he who thinks that even a Mingo would ill-treat a woman, unless it\nbe to tomahawk her, knows nothing of Indian natur', or the laws of the\nwoods. No, no; I have heard that the French Indians had come into these\nhills to hunt the moose, and we are getting within scent of their camp.\nWhy should they not? The morning and evening guns of Ty may be heard\nany day among these mountains; for the Frenchers are running a new line\natween the provinces of the king and the Canadas. It is true that the\nhorses are here, but the Hurons are gone; let us, then, hunt for the\npath by which they parted.\"\n\nHawkeye and the Mohicans now applied themselves to their task in good\nearnest. A circle of a few hundred feet in circumference was drawn,\nand each of the party took a segment for his portion. The examination,\nhowever, resulted in no discovery. The impressions of footsteps were\nnumerous, but they all appeared like those of men who had wandered\nabout the spot, without any design to quit it. Again the scout and his\ncompanions made the circuit of the halting place, each slowly following\nthe other, until they assembled in the center once more, no wiser than\nwhen they started.\n\n\"Such cunning is not without its deviltry,\" exclaimed Hawkeye, when he\nmet the disappointed looks of his assistants.\n\n\"We must get down to it, Sagamore, beginning at the spring, and going\nover the ground by inches. The Huron shall never brag in his tribe that\nhe has a foot which leaves no print.\"\n\nSetting the example himself, the scout engaged in the scrutiny with\nrenewed zeal. Not a leaf was left unturned. The sticks were removed,\nand the stones lifted; for Indian cunning was known frequently to adopt\nthese objects as covers, laboring with the utmost patience and industry,\nto conceal each footstep as they proceeded. Still no discovery was made.\nAt length Uncas, whose activity had enabled him to achieve his portion\nof the task the soonest, raked the earth across the turbid little rill\nwhich ran from the spring, and diverted its course into another channel.\nSo soon as its narrow bed below the dam was dry, he stooped over it with\nkeen and curious eyes. A cry of exultation immediately announced the\nsuccess of the young warrior. The whole party crowded to the spot where\nUncas pointed out the impression of a moccasin in the moist alluvion.\n\n\"This lad will be an honor to his people,\" said Hawkeye, regarding the\ntrail with as much admiration as a naturalist would expend on the tusk\nof a mammoth or the rib of a mastodon; \"ay, and a thorn in the sides of\nthe Hurons. Yet that is not the footstep of an Indian! the weight is too\nmuch on the heel, and the toes are squared, as though one of the French\ndancers had been in, pigeon-winging his tribe! Run back, Uncas, and\nbring me the size of the singer's foot. You will find a beautiful print\nof it just opposite yon rock, agin the hillside.\"\n\nWhile the youth was engaged in this commission, the scout and\nChingachgook were attentively considering the impressions. The\nmeasurements agreed, and the former unhesitatingly pronounced that the\nfootstep was that of David, who had once more been made to exchange his\nshoes for moccasins.\n\n\"I can now read the whole of it, as plainly as if I had seen the arts of\nLe Subtil,\" he added; \"the singer being a man whose gifts lay chiefly in\nhis throat and feet, was made to go first, and the others have trod in\nhis steps, imitating their formation.\"\n\n\"But,\" cried Duncan, \"I see no signs of--\"\n\n\"The gentle ones,\" interrupted the scout; \"the varlet has found a way to\ncarry them, until he supposed he had thrown any followers off the scent.\nMy life on it, we see their pretty little feet again, before many rods\ngo by.\"\n\nThe whole party now proceeded, following the course of the rill, keeping\nanxious eyes on the regular impressions. The water soon flowed into its\nbed again, but watching the ground on either side, the foresters pursued\ntheir way content with knowing that the trail lay beneath. More than\nhalf a mile was passed, before the rill rippled close around the base of\nan extensive and dry rock. Here they paused to make sure that the Hurons\nhad not quitted the water.\n\nIt was fortunate they did so. For the quick and active Uncas soon found\nthe impression of a foot on a bunch of moss, where it would seem an\nIndian had inadvertently trodden. Pursuing the direction given by this\ndiscovery, he entered the neighboring thicket, and struck the trail, as\nfresh and obvious as it had been before they reached the spring. Another\nshout announced the good fortune of the youth to his companions, and at\nonce terminated the search.\n\n\"Ay, it has been planned with Indian judgment,\" said the scout, when\nthe party was assembled around the place, \"and would have blinded white\neyes.\"\n\n\"Shall we proceed?\" demanded Heyward.\n\n\"Softly, softly, we know our path; but it is good to examine the\nformation of things. This is my schooling, major; and if one neglects\nthe book, there is little chance of learning from the open land of\nProvidence. All is plain but one thing, which is the manner that the\nknave contrived to get the gentle ones along the blind trail. Even a\nHuron would be too proud to let their tender feet touch the water.\"\n\n\"Will this assist in explaining the difficulty?\" said Heyward, pointing\ntoward the fragments of a sort of handbarrow, that had been rudely\nconstructed of boughs, and bound together with withes, and which now\nseemed carelessly cast aside as useless.\n\n\"'Tis explained!\" cried the delighted Hawkeye. \"If them varlets have\npassed a minute, they have spent hours in striving to fabricate a lying\nend to their trail! Well, I've known them to waste a day in the same\nmanner to as little purpose. Here we have three pair of moccasins, and\ntwo of little feet. It is amazing that any mortal beings can journey on\nlimbs so small! Pass me the thong of buckskin, Uncas, and let me take\nthe length of this foot. By the Lord, it is no longer than a child's and\nyet the maidens are tall and comely. That Providence is partial in its\ngifts, for its own wise reasons, the best and most contented of us must\nallow.\"\n\n\"The tender limbs of my daughters are unequal to these hardships,\" said\nMunro, looking at the light footsteps of his children, with a parent's\nlove; \"we shall find their fainting forms in this desert.\"\n\n\"Of that there is little cause of fear,\" returned the scout, slowly\nshaking his head; \"this is a firm and straight, though a light step, and\nnot over long. See, the heel has hardly touched the ground; and there\nthe dark-hair has made a little jump, from root to root. No, no; my\nknowledge for it, neither of them was nigh fainting, hereaway. Now, the\nsinger was beginning to be footsore and leg-weary, as is plain by\nhis trail. There, you see, he slipped; here he has traveled wide and\ntottered; and there again it looks as though he journeyed on snowshoes.\nAy, ay, a man who uses his throat altogether, can hardly give his legs a\nproper training.\"\n\nFrom such undeniable testimony did the practised woodsman arrive at the\ntruth, with nearly as much certainty and precision as if he had been a\nwitness of all those events which his ingenuity so easily elucidated.\nCheered by these assurances, and satisfied by a reasoning that was so\nobvious, while it was so simple, the party resumed its course, after\nmaking a short halt, to take a hurried repast.\n\nWhen the meal was ended, the scout cast a glance upward at the setting\nsun, and pushed forward with a rapidity which compelled Heyward and the\nstill vigorous Munro to exert all their muscles to equal. Their route\nnow lay along the bottom which has already been mentioned. As the Hurons\nhad made no further efforts to conceal their footsteps, the progress of\nthe pursuers was no longer delayed by uncertainty. Before an hour had\nelapsed, however, the speed of Hawkeye sensibly abated, and his head,\ninstead of maintaining its former direct and forward look, began to turn\nsuspiciously from side to side, as if he were conscious of approaching\ndanger. He soon stopped again, and waited for the whole party to come\nup.\n\n\"I scent the Hurons,\" he said, speaking to the Mohicans; \"yonder is open\nsky, through the treetops, and we are getting too nigh their encampment.\nSagamore, you will take the hillside, to the right; Uncas will bend\nalong the brook to the left, while I will try the trail. If anything\nshould happen, the call will be three croaks of a crow. I saw one of the\nbirds fanning himself in the air, just beyond the dead oak--another sign\nthat we are approaching an encampment.\"\n\nThe Indians departed their several ways without reply, while Hawkeye\ncautiously proceeded with the two gentlemen. Heyward soon pressed to the\nside of their guide, eager to catch an early glimpse of those enemies\nhe had pursued with so much toil and anxiety. His companion told him\nto steal to the edge of the wood, which, as usual, was fringed with\na thicket, and wait his coming, for he wished to examine certain\nsuspicious signs a little on one side. Duncan obeyed, and soon found\nhimself in a situation to command a view which he found as extraordinary\nas it was novel.\n\nThe trees of many acres had been felled, and the glow of a mild summer's\nevening had fallen on the clearing, in beautiful contrast to the gray\nlight of the forest. A short distance from the place where Duncan stood,\nthe stream had seemingly expanded into a little lake, covering most of\nthe low land, from mountain to mountain. The water fell out of this wide\nbasin, in a cataract so regular and gentle, that it appeared rather to\nbe the work of human hands than fashioned by nature. A hundred earthen\ndwellings stood on the margin of the lake, and even in its waters, as\nthough the latter had overflowed its usual banks. Their rounded roofs,\nadmirably molded for defense against the weather, denoted more of\nindustry and foresight than the natives were wont to bestow on their\nregular habitations, much less on those they occupied for the temporary\npurposes of hunting and war. In short, the whole village or town,\nwhichever it might be termed, possessed more of method and neatness of\nexecution, than the white men had been accustomed to believe belonged,\nordinarily, to the Indian habits. It appeared, however, to be deserted.\nAt least, so thought Duncan for many minutes; but, at length, he fancied\nhe discovered several human forms advancing toward him on all fours,\nand apparently dragging in the train some heavy, and as he was quick to\napprehend, some formidable engine. Just then a few dark-looking heads\ngleamed out of the dwellings, and the place seemed suddenly alive with\nbeings, which, however, glided from cover to cover so swiftly, as to\nallow no opportunity of examining their humors or pursuits. Alarmed at\nthese suspicious and inexplicable movements, he was about to attempt the\nsignal of the crows, when the rustling of leaves at hand drew his eyes\nin another direction.\n\nThe young man started, and recoiled a few paces instinctively, when he\nfound himself within a hundred yards of a stranger Indian. Recovering\nhis recollection on the instant, instead of sounding an alarm, which\nmight prove fatal to himself, he remained stationary, an attentive\nobserver of the other's motions.\n\nAn instant of calm observation served to assure Duncan that he was\nundiscovered. The native, like himself, seemed occupied in considering\nthe low dwellings of the village, and the stolen movements of its\ninhabitants. It was impossible to discover the expression of his\nfeatures through the grotesque mask of paint under which they were\nconcealed, though Duncan fancied it was rather melancholy than savage.\nHis head was shaved, as usual, with the exception of the crown, from\nwhose tuft three or four faded feathers from a hawk's wing were loosely\ndangling. A ragged calico mantle half encircled his body, while his\nnether garment was composed of an ordinary shirt, the sleeves of which\nwere made to perform the office that is usually executed by a much more\ncommodious arrangement. His legs were, however, covered with a pair of\ngood deer-skin moccasins. Altogether, the appearance of the individual\nwas forlorn and miserable.\n\nDuncan was still curiously observing the person of his neighbor when the\nscout stole silently and cautiously to his side.\n\n\"You see we have reached their settlement or encampment,\" whispered\nthe young man; \"and here is one of the savages himself, in a very\nembarrassing position for our further movements.\"\n\nHawkeye started, and dropped his rifle, when, directed by the finger\nof his companion, the stranger came under his view. Then lowering the\ndangerous muzzle he stretched forward his long neck, as if to assist a\nscrutiny that was already intensely keen.\n\n\"The imp is not a Huron,\" he said, \"nor of any of the Canada tribes; and\nyet you see, by his clothes, the knave has been plundering a white. Ay,\nMontcalm has raked the woods for his inroad, and a whooping, murdering\nset of varlets has he gathered together. Can you see where he has put\nhis rifle or his bow?\"\n\n\"He appears to have no arms; nor does he seem to be viciously inclined.\nUnless he communicate the alarm to his fellows, who, as you see, are\ndodging about the water, we have but little to fear from him.\"\n\nThe scout turned to Heyward, and regarded him a moment with unconcealed\namazement. Then opening wide his mouth, he indulged in unrestrained\nand heartfelt laughter, though in that silent and peculiar manner which\ndanger had so long taught him to practise.\n\nRepeating the words, \"Fellows who are dodging about the water!\" he\nadded, \"so much for schooling and passing a boyhood in the settlements!\nThe knave has long legs, though, and shall not be trusted. Do you keep\nhim under your rifle while I creep in behind, through the bush, and take\nhim alive. Fire on no account.\"\n\nHeyward had already permitted his companion to bury part of his person\nin the thicket, when, stretching forth his arm, he arrested him, in\norder to ask:\n\n\"If I see you in danger, may I not risk a shot?\"\n\nHawkeye regarded him a moment, like one who knew not how to take the\nquestion; then, nodding his head, he answered, still laughing, though\ninaudibly:\n\n\"Fire a whole platoon, major.\"\n\nIn the next moment he was concealed by the leaves. Duncan waited several\nminutes in feverish impatience, before he caught another glimpse of\nthe scout. Then he reappeared, creeping along the earth, from which his\ndress was hardly distinguishable, directly in the rear of his intended\ncaptive. Having reached within a few yards of the latter, he arose to\nhis feet, silently and slowly. At that instant, several loud blows were\nstruck on the water, and Duncan turned his eyes just in time to perceive\nthat a hundred dark forms were plunging, in a body, into the troubled\nlittle sheet. Grasping his rifle his looks were again bent on the Indian\nnear him. Instead of taking the alarm, the unconscious savage stretched\nforward his neck, as if he also watched the movements about the gloomy\nlake, with a sort of silly curiosity. In the meantime, the uplifted\nhand of Hawkeye was above him. But, without any apparent reason, it was\nwithdrawn, and its owner indulged in another long, though still silent,\nfit of merriment. When the peculiar and hearty laughter of Hawkeye\nwas ended, instead of grasping his victim by the throat, he tapped him\nlightly on the shoulder, and exclaimed aloud:\n\n\"How now, friend! have you a mind to teach the beavers to sing?\"\n\n\"Even so,\" was the ready answer. \"It would seem that the Being that gave\nthem power to improve His gifts so well, would not deny them voices to\nproclaim His praise.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 22\n\n     \"Bot.--Abibl we all met?\n     Qui.--Pat--pat; and here's a marvelous convenient place\n     for our rehearsal.\"\n     --Midsummer Night's Dream\n\nThe reader may better imagine, than we describe the surprise of Heyward.\nHis lurking Indians were suddenly converted into four-footed beasts; his\nlake into a beaver pond; his cataract into a dam, constructed by those\nindustrious and ingenious quadrupeds; and a suspected enemy into his\ntried friend, David Gamut, the master of psalmody. The presence of the\nlatter created so many unexpected hopes relative to the sisters that,\nwithout a moment's hesitation, the young man broke out of his ambush,\nand sprang forward to join the two principal actors in the scene.\n\nThe merriment of Hawkeye was not easily appeased. Without ceremony, and\nwith a rough hand, he twirled the supple Gamut around on his heel, and\nmore than once affirmed that the Hurons had done themselves great credit\nin the fashion of his costume. Then, seizing the hand of the other, he\nsqueezed it with a grip that brought tears into the eyes of the placid\nDavid, and wished him joy of his new condition.\n\n\"You were about opening your throat-practisings among the beavers, were\nye?\" he said. \"The cunning devils know half the trade already, for they\nbeat the time with their tails, as you heard just now; and in good time\nit was, too, or 'killdeer' might have sounded the first note among\nthem. I have known greater fools, who could read and write, than an\nexperienced old beaver; but as for squalling, the animals are born dumb!\nWhat think you of such a song as this?\"\n\nDavid shut his sensitive ears, and even Heyward apprised as he was of\nthe nature of the cry, looked upward in quest of the bird, as the cawing\nof a crow rang in the air about them.\n\n\"See!\" continued the laughing scout, as he pointed toward the remainder\nof the party, who, in obedience to the signal, were already approaching;\n\"this is music which has its natural virtues; it brings two good rifles\nto my elbow, to say nothing of the knives and tomahawks. But we see that\nyou are safe; now tell us what has become of the maidens.\"\n\n\"They are captives to the heathen,\" said David; \"and, though greatly\ntroubled in spirit, enjoying comfort and safety in the body.\"\n\n\"Both!\" demanded the breathless Heyward.\n\n\"Even so. Though our wayfaring has been sore and our sustenance scanty,\nwe have had little other cause for complaint, except the violence done\nour feelings, by being thus led in captivity into a far land.\"\n\n\"Bless ye for these very words!\" exclaimed the trembling Munro; \"I shall\nthen receive my babes, spotless and angel-like, as I lost them!\"\n\n\"I know not that their delivery is at hand,\" returned the doubting\nDavid; \"the leader of these savages is possessed of an evil spirit that\nno power short of Omnipotence can tame. I have tried him sleeping and\nwaking, but neither sounds nor language seem to touch his soul.\"\n\n\"Where is the knave?\" bluntly interrupted the scout.\n\n\"He hunts the moose to-day, with his young men; and tomorrow, as I hear,\nthey pass further into the forests, and nigher to the borders of Canada.\nThe elder maiden is conveyed to a neighboring people, whose lodges\nare situate beyond yonder black pinnacle of rock; while the younger\nis detained among the women of the Hurons, whose dwellings are but two\nshort miles hence, on a table-land, where the fire had done the office\nof the axe, and prepared the place for their reception.\"\n\n\"Alice, my gentle Alice!\" murmured Heyward; \"she has lost the\nconsolation of her sister's presence!\"\n\n\"Even so. But so far as praise and thanksgiving in psalmody can temper\nthe spirit in affliction, she has not suffered.\"\n\n\"Has she then a heart for music?\"\n\n\"Of the graver and more solemn character; though it must be acknowledged\nthat, in spite of all my endeavors, the maiden weeps oftener than she\nsmiles. At such moments I forbear to press the holy songs; but there are\nmany sweet and comfortable periods of satisfactory communication,\nwhen the ears of the savages are astounded with the upliftings of our\nvoices.\"\n\n\"And why are you permitted to go at large, unwatched?\"\n\nDavid composed his features into what he intended should express an air\nof modest humility, before he meekly replied:\n\n\"Little be the praise to such a worm as I. But, though the power of\npsalmody was suspended in the terrible business of that field of blood\nthrough which we have passed, it has recovered its influence even over\nthe souls of the heathen, and I am suffered to go and come at will.\"\n\nThe scout laughed, and, tapping his own forehead significantly, he\nperhaps explained the singular indulgence more satisfactorily when he\nsaid:\n\n\"The Indians never harm a non-composser. But why, when the path lay open\nbefore your eyes, did you not strike back on your own trail (it is not\nso blind as that which a squirrel would make), and bring in the tidings\nto Edward?\"\n\nThe scout, remembering only his own sturdy and iron nature, had probably\nexacted a task that David, under no circumstances, could have performed.\nBut, without entirely losing the meekness of his air, the latter was\ncontent to answer:\n\n\"Though my soul would rejoice to visit the habitations of Christendom\nonce more, my feet would rather follow the tender spirits intrusted to\nmy keeping, even into the idolatrous province of the Jesuits, than take\none step backward, while they pined in captivity and sorrow.\"\n\nThough the figurative language of David was not very intelligible, the\nsincere and steady expression of his eye, and the glow of his honest\ncountenance, were not easily mistaken. Uncas pressed closer to his side,\nand regarded the speaker with a look of commendation, while his\nfather expressed his satisfaction by the ordinary pithy exclamation of\napprobation. The scout shook his head as he rejoined:\n\n\"The Lord never intended that the man should place all his endeavors in\nhis throat, to the neglect of other and better gifts! But he has fallen\ninto the hands of some silly woman, when he should have been gathering\nhis education under a blue sky, among the beauties of the forest. Here,\nfriend; I did intend to kindle a fire with this tooting-whistle of\nthine; but, as you value the thing, take it, and blow your best on it.\"\n\nGamut received his pitch-pipe with as strong an expression of pleasure\nas he believed compatible with the grave functions he exercised. After\nessaying its virtues repeatedly, in contrast with his own voice, and,\nsatisfying himself that none of its melody was lost, he made a very\nserious demonstration toward achieving a few stanzas of one of the\nlongest effusions in the little volume so often mentioned.\n\nHeyward, however, hastily interrupted his pious purpose by continuing\nquestions concerning the past and present condition of his fellow\ncaptives, and in a manner more methodical than had been permitted by his\nfeelings in the opening of their interview. David, though he regarded\nhis treasure with longing eyes, was constrained to answer, especially\nas the venerable father took a part in the interrogatories, with an\ninterest too imposing to be denied. Nor did the scout fail to throw in\na pertinent inquiry, whenever a fitting occasion presented. In this\nmanner, though with frequent interruptions which were filled with\ncertain threatening sounds from the recovered instrument, the pursuers\nwere put in possession of such leading circumstances as were likely to\nprove useful in accomplishing their great and engrossing object--the\nrecovery of the sisters. The narrative of David was simple, and the\nfacts but few.\n\nMagua had waited on the mountain until a safe moment to retire presented\nitself, when he had descended, and taken the route along the western\nside of the Horican in direction of the Canadas. As the subtle Huron was\nfamiliar with the paths, and well knew there was no immediate danger of\npursuit, their progress had been moderate, and far from fatiguing.\nIt appeared from the unembellished statement of David, that his own\npresence had been rather endured than desired; though even Magua had not\nbeen entirely exempt from that veneration with which the Indians regard\nthose whom the Great Spirit had visited in their intellects. At night,\nthe utmost care had been taken of the captives, both to prevent injury\nfrom the damps of the woods and to guard against an escape. At\nthe spring, the horses were turned loose, as has been seen; and,\nnotwithstanding the remoteness and length of their trail, the artifices\nalready named were resorted to, in order to cut off every clue to their\nplace of retreat. On their arrival at the encampment of his people,\nMagua, in obedience to a policy seldom departed from, separated his\nprisoners. Cora had been sent to a tribe that temporarily occupied an\nadjacent valley, though David was far too ignorant of the customs and\nhistory of the natives, to be able to declare anything satisfactory\nconcerning their name or character. He only knew that they had not\nengaged in the late expedition against William Henry; that, like the\nHurons themselves they were allies of Montcalm; and that they maintained\nan amicable, though a watchful intercourse with the warlike and\nsavage people whom chance had, for a time, brought in such close and\ndisagreeable contact with themselves.\n\nThe Mohicans and the scout listened to his interrupted and imperfect\nnarrative, with an interest that obviously increased as he proceeded;\nand it was while attempting to explain the pursuits of the community in\nwhich Cora was detained, that the latter abruptly demanded:\n\n\"Did you see the fashion of their knives? were they of English or French\nformation?\"\n\n\"My thoughts were bent on no such vanities, but rather mingled in\nconsolation with those of the maidens.\"\n\n\"The time may come when you will not consider the knife of a savage such\na despicable vanity,\" returned the scout, with a strong expression of\ncontempt for the other's dullness. \"Had they held their corn feast--or\ncan you say anything of the totems of the tribe?\"\n\n\"Of corn, we had many and plentiful feasts; for the grain, being in\nthe milk is both sweet to the mouth and comfortable to the stomach. Of\ntotem, I know not the meaning; but if it appertaineth in any wise to the\nart of Indian music, it need not be inquired after at their hands. They\nnever join their voices in praise, and it would seem that they are among\nthe profanest of the idolatrous.\"\n\n\"Therein you belie the natur' of an Indian. Even the Mingo adores but\nthe true and loving God. 'Tis wicked fabrication of the whites, and I\nsay it to the shame of my color that would make the warrior bow down\nbefore images of his own creation. It is true, they endeavor to make\ntruces to the wicked one--as who would not with an enemy he cannot\nconquer! but they look up for favor and assistance to the Great and Good\nSpirit only.\"\n\n\"It may be so,\" said David; \"but I have seen strange and fantastic\nimages drawn in their paint, of which their admiration and care savored\nof spiritual pride; especially one, and that, too, a foul and loathsome\nobject.\"\n\n\"Was it a sarpent?\" quickly demanded the scout.\n\n\"Much the same. It was in the likeness of an abject and creeping\ntortoise.\"\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed both the attentive Mohicans in a breath; while the\nscout shook his head with the air of one who had made an important but\nby no means a pleasing discovery. Then the father spoke, in the language\nof the Delawares, and with a calmness and dignity that instantly\narrested the attention even of those to whom his words were\nunintelligible. His gestures were impressive, and at times energetic.\nOnce he lifted his arm on high; and, as it descended, the action threw\naside the folds of his light mantle, a finger resting on his breast, as\nif he would enforce his meaning by the attitude. Duncan's eyes followed\nthe movement, and he perceived that the animal just mentioned was\nbeautifully, though faintly, worked in blue tint, on the swarthy breast\nof the chief. All that he had ever heard of the violent separation of\nthe vast tribes of the Delawares rushed across his mind, and he awaited\nthe proper moment to speak, with a suspense that was rendered nearly\nintolerable by his interest in the stake. His wish, however, was\nanticipated by the scout who turned from his red friend, saying:\n\n\"We have found that which may be good or evil to us, as heaven disposes.\nThe Sagamore is of the high blood of the Delawares, and is the great\nchief of their Tortoises! That some of this stock are among the people\nof whom the singer tells us, is plain by his words; and, had he but\nspent half the breath in prudent questions that he has blown away in\nmaking a trumpet of his throat, we might have known how many warriors\nthey numbered. It is, altogether, a dangerous path we move in; for a\nfriend whose face is turned from you often bears a bloodier mind than\nthe enemy who seeks your scalp.\"\n\n\"Explain,\" said Duncan.\n\n\"'Tis a long and melancholy tradition, and one I little like to think\nof; for it is not to be denied that the evil has been mainly done by men\nwith white skins. But it has ended in turning the tomahawk of brother\nagainst brother, and brought the Mingo and the Delaware to travel in the\nsame path.\"\n\n\"You, then, suspect it is a portion of that people among whom Cora\nresides?\"\n\nThe scout nodded his head in assent, though he seemed anxious to waive\nthe further discussion of a subject that appeared painful. The impatient\nDuncan now made several hasty and desperate propositions to attempt\nthe release of the sisters. Munro seemed to shake off his apathy, and\nlistened to the wild schemes of the young man with a deference that his\ngray hairs and reverend years should have denied. But the scout, after\nsuffering the ardor of the lover to expend itself a little, found means\nto convince him of the folly of precipitation, in a manner that would\nrequire their coolest judgment and utmost fortitude.\n\n\"It would be well,\" he added, \"to let this man go in again, as usual,\nand for him to tarry in the lodges, giving notice to the gentle ones of\nour approach, until we call him out, by signal, to consult. You know the\ncry of a crow, friend, from the whistle of the whip-poor-will?\"\n\n\"'Tis a pleasing bird,\" returned David, \"and has a soft and melancholy\nnote! though the time is rather quick and ill-measured.\"\n\n\"He speaks of the wish-ton-wish,\" said the scout; \"well, since you like\nhis whistle, it shall be your signal. Remember, then, when you hear the\nwhip-poor-will's call three times repeated, you are to come into the\nbushes where the bird might be supposed--\"\n\n\"Stop,\" interrupted Heyward; \"I will accompany him.\"\n\n\"You!\" exclaimed the astonished Hawkeye; \"are you tired of seeing the\nsun rise and set?\"\n\n\"David is a living proof that the Hurons can be merciful.\"\n\n\"Ay, but David can use his throat, as no man in his senses would pervart\nthe gift.\"\n\n\"I too can play the madman, the fool, the hero; in short, any or\neverything to rescue her I love. Name your objections no longer: I am\nresolved.\"\n\nHawkeye regarded the young man a moment in speechless amazement.\nBut Duncan, who, in deference to the other's skill and services, had\nhitherto submitted somewhat implicitly to his dictation, now assumed the\nsuperior, with a manner that was not easily resisted. He waved his hand,\nin sign of his dislike to all remonstrance, and then, in more tempered\nlanguage, he continued:\n\n\"You have the means of disguise; change me; paint me, too, if you will;\nin short, alter me to anything--a fool.\"\n\n\"It is not for one like me to say that he who is already formed by so\npowerful a hand as Providence, stands in need of a change,\" muttered the\ndiscontented scout. \"When you send your parties abroad in war, you find\nit prudent, at least, to arrange the marks and places of encampment, in\norder that they who fight on your side may know when and where to expect\na friend.\"\n\n\"Listen,\" interrupted Duncan; \"you have heard from this faithful\nfollower of the captives, that the Indians are of two tribes, if not\nof different nations. With one, whom you think to be a branch of the\nDelawares, is she you call the 'dark-hair'; the other, and younger,\nof the ladies, is undeniably with our declared enemies, the Hurons. It\nbecomes my youth and rank to attempt the latter adventure. While you,\ntherefore, are negotiating with your friends for the release of one of\nthe sisters, I will effect that of the other, or die.\"\n\nThe awakened spirit of the young soldier gleamed in his eyes, and his\nform became imposing under its influence. Hawkeye, though too much\naccustomed to Indian artifices not to foresee the danger of the\nexperiment, knew not well how to combat this sudden resolution.\n\nPerhaps there was something in the proposal that suited his own hardy\nnature, and that secret love of desperate adventure, which had increased\nwith his experience, until hazard and danger had become, in some\nmeasure, necessary to the enjoyment of his existence. Instead of\ncontinuing to oppose the scheme of Duncan, his humor suddenly altered,\nand he lent himself to its execution.\n\n\"Come,\" he said, with a good-humored smile; \"the buck that will take\nto the water must be headed, and not followed. Chingachgook has as many\ndifferent paints as the engineer officer's wife, who takes down natur'\non scraps of paper, making the mountains look like cocks of rusty hay,\nand placing the blue sky in reach of your hand. The Sagamore can use\nthem, too. Seat yourself on the log; and my life on it, he can soon make\na natural fool of you, and that well to your liking.\"\n\nDuncan complied; and the Mohican, who had been an attentive listener to\nthe discourse, readily undertook the office. Long practised in all the\nsubtle arts of his race, he drew, with great dexterity and quickness,\nthe fantastic shadow that the natives were accustomed to consider as the\nevidence of a friendly and jocular disposition. Every line that could\npossibly be interpreted into a secret inclination for war, was carefully\navoided; while, on the other hand, he studied those conceits that might\nbe construed into amity.\n\nIn short, he entirely sacrificed every appearance of the warrior to the\nmasquerade of a buffoon. Such exhibitions were not uncommon among the\nIndians, and as Duncan was already sufficiently disguised in his dress,\nthere certainly did exist some reason for believing that, with his\nknowledge of French, he might pass for a juggler from Ticonderoga,\nstraggling among the allied and friendly tribes.\n\nWhen he was thought to be sufficiently painted, the scout gave him much\nfriendly advice; concerted signals, and appointed the place where they\nshould meet, in the event of mutual success. The parting between Munro\nand his young friend was more melancholy; still, the former submitted\nto the separation with an indifference that his warm and honest nature\nwould never have permitted in a more healthful state of mind. The scout\nled Heyward aside, and acquainted him with his intention to leave the\nveteran in some safe encampment, in charge of Chingachgook, while he and\nUncas pursued their inquires among the people they had reason to believe\nwere Delawares. Then, renewing his cautions and advice, he concluded by\nsaying, with a solemnity and warmth of feeling, with which Duncan was\ndeeply touched:\n\n\"And, now, God bless you! You have shown a spirit that I like; for it is\nthe gift of youth, more especially one of warm blood and a stout heart.\nBut believe the warning of a man who has reason to know all he says to\nbe true. You will have occasion for your best manhood, and for a sharper\nwit than what is to be gathered in books, afore you outdo the cunning or\nget the better of the courage of a Mingo. God bless you! if the Hurons\nmaster your scalp, rely on the promise of one who has two stout warriors\nto back him. They shall pay for their victory, with a life for every\nhair it holds. I say, young gentleman, may Providence bless your\nundertaking, which is altogether for good; and, remember, that to outwit\nthe knaves it is lawful to practise things that may not be naturally the\ngift of a white-skin.\"\n\nDuncan shook his worthy and reluctant associate warmly by the hand, once\nmore recommended his aged friend to his care, and returning his good\nwishes, he motioned to David to proceed. Hawkeye gazed after the\nhigh-spirited and adventurous young man for several moments, in open\nadmiration; then, shaking his head doubtingly, he turned, and led his\nown division of the party into the concealment of the forest.\n\nThe route taken by Duncan and David lay directly across the clearing of\nthe beavers, and along the margin of their pond.\n\nWhen the former found himself alone with one so simple, and so little\nqualified to render any assistance in desperate emergencies, he first\nbegan to be sensible of the difficulties of the task he had undertaken.\nThe fading light increased the gloominess of the bleak and savage\nwilderness that stretched so far on every side of him, and there was\neven a fearful character in the stillness of those little huts, that\nhe knew were so abundantly peopled. It struck him, as he gazed at the\nadmirable structures and the wonderful precautions of their sagacious\ninmates, that even the brutes of these vast wilds were possessed of\nan instinct nearly commensurate with his own reason; and he could not\nreflect, without anxiety, on the unequal contest that he had so rashly\ncourted. Then came the glowing image of Alice; her distress; her actual\ndanger; and all the peril of his situation was forgotten. Cheering\nDavid, he moved on with the light and vigorous step of youth and\nenterprise.\n\nAfter making nearly a semicircle around the pond, they diverged from the\nwater-course, and began to ascend to the level of a slight elevation in\nthat bottom land, over which they journeyed. Within half an hour they\ngained the margin of another opening that bore all the signs of having\nbeen also made by the beavers, and which those sagacious animals had\nprobably been induced, by some accident, to abandon, for the more\neligible position they now occupied. A very natural sensation caused\nDuncan to hesitate a moment, unwilling to leave the cover of their\nbushy path, as a man pauses to collect his energies before he essays any\nhazardous experiment, in which he is secretly conscious they will all be\nneeded. He profited by the halt, to gather such information as might be\nobtained from his short and hasty glances.\n\nOn the opposite side of the clearing, and near the point where the brook\ntumbled over some rocks, from a still higher level, some fifty or sixty\nlodges, rudely fabricated of logs brush, and earth intermingled, were\nto be discovered. They were arranged without any order, and seemed to be\nconstructed with very little attention to neatness or beauty. Indeed,\nso very inferior were they in the two latter particulars to the village\nDuncan had just seen, that he began to expect a second surprise, no\nless astonishing that the former. This expectation was in no degree\ndiminished, when, by the doubtful twilight, he beheld twenty or thirty\nforms rising alternately from the cover of the tall, coarse grass, in\nfront of the lodges, and then sinking again from the sight, as it were\nto burrow in the earth. By the sudden and hasty glimpses that he caught\nof these figures, they seemed more like dark, glancing specters, or some\nother unearthly beings, than creatures fashioned with the ordinary and\nvulgar materials of flesh and blood. A gaunt, naked form was seen, for a\nsingle instant, tossing its arms wildly in the air, and then the spot it\nhad filled was vacant; the figure appearing suddenly in some other\nand distant place, or being succeeded by another, possessing the same\nmysterious character. David, observing that his companion lingered,\npursued the direction of his gaze, and in some measure recalled the\nrecollection of Heyward, by speaking.\n\n\"There is much fruitful soil uncultivated here,\" he said; \"and, I may\nadd, without the sinful leaven of self-commendation, that, since my\nshort sojourn in these heathenish abodes, much good seed has been\nscattered by the wayside.\"\n\n\"The tribes are fonder of the chase than of the arts of men of labor,\"\nreturned the unconscious Duncan, still gazing at the objects of his\nwonder.\n\n\"It is rather joy than labor to the spirit, to lift up the voice in\npraise; but sadly do these boys abuse their gifts. Rarely have I found\nany of their age, on whom nature has so freely bestowed the elements\nof psalmody; and surely, surely, there are none who neglect them more.\nThree nights have I now tarried here, and three several times have I\nassembled the urchins to join in sacred song; and as often have they\nresponded to my efforts with whoopings and howlings that have chilled my\nsoul!\"\n\n\"Of whom speak you?\"\n\n\"Of those children of the devil, who waste the precious moments in\nyonder idle antics. Ah! the wholesome restraint of discipline is but\nlittle known among this self-abandoned people. In a country of birches,\na rod is never seen, and it ought not to appear a marvel in my eyes,\nthat the choicest blessings of Providence are wasted in such cries as\nthese.\"\n\nDavid closed his ears against the juvenile pack, whose yell just then\nrang shrilly through the forest; and Duncan, suffering his lip to curl,\nas in mockery of his own superstition, said firmly:\n\n\"We will proceed.\"\n\nWithout removing the safeguards form his ears, the master of song\ncomplied, and together they pursued their way toward what David was\nsometimes wont to call the \"tents of the Philistines.\"\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 23\n\n     \"But though the beast of game\n     The privilege of chase may claim;\n     Though space and law the stag we lend\n     Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend;\n     Whoever recked, where, how, or when\n     The prowling fox was trapped or slain?\"\n     --Lady of the Lake.\n\nIt is unusual to find an encampment of the natives, like those of the\nmore instructed whites, guarded by the presence of armed men. Well\ninformed of the approach of every danger, while it is yet at a distance,\nthe Indian generally rests secure under his knowledge of the signs of\nthe forest, and the long and difficult paths that separate him from\nthose he has most reason to dread. But the enemy who, by any lucky\nconcurrence of accidents, has found means to elude the vigilance of the\nscouts, will seldom meet with sentinels nearer home to sound the alarm.\nIn addition to this general usage, the tribes friendly to the French\nknew too well the weight of the blow that had just been struck, to\napprehend any immediate danger from the hostile nations that were\ntributary to the crown of Britain.\n\nWhen Duncan and David, therefore, found themselves in the center of the\nchildren, who played the antics already mentioned, it was without the\nleast previous intimation of their approach. But so soon as they were\nobserved the whole of the juvenile pack raised, by common consent, a\nshrill and warning whoop; and then sank, as it were, by magic, from\nbefore the sight of their visitors. The naked, tawny bodies of the\ncrouching urchins blended so nicely at that hour, with the withered\nherbage, that at first it seemed as if the earth had, in truth,\nswallowed up their forms; though when surprise permitted Duncan to bend\nhis look more curiously about the spot, he found it everywhere met by\ndark, quick, and rolling eyeballs.\n\nGathering no encouragement from this startling presage of the nature of\nthe scrutiny he was likely to undergo from the more mature judgments\nof the men, there was an instant when the young soldier would have\nretreated. It was, however, too late to appear to hesitate. The cry\nof the children had drawn a dozen warriors to the door of the nearest\nlodge, where they stood clustered in a dark and savage group, gravely\nawaiting the nearer approach of those who had unexpectedly come among\nthem.\n\nDavid, in some measure familiarized to the scene, led the way with a\nsteadiness that no slight obstacle was likely to disconcert, into this\nvery building. It was the principal edifice of the village, though\nroughly constructed of the bark and branches of trees; being the lodge\nin which the tribe held its councils and public meetings during their\ntemporary residence on the borders of the English province. Duncan found\nit difficult to assume the necessary appearance of unconcern, as he\nbrushed the dark and powerful frames of the savages who thronged its\nthreshold; but, conscious that his existence depended on his presence of\nmind, he trusted to the discretion of his companion, whose footsteps he\nclosely followed, endeavoring, as he proceeded, to rally his thoughts\nfor the occasion. His blood curdled when he found himself in absolute\ncontact with such fierce and implacable enemies; but he so far mastered\nhis feelings as to pursue his way into the center of the lodge, with an\nexterior that did not betray the weakness. Imitating the example of the\ndeliberate Gamut, he drew a bundle of fragrant brush from beneath a pile\nthat filled the corner of the hut, and seated himself in silence.\n\nSo soon as their visitor had passed, the observant warriors fell back\nfrom the entrance, and arranging themselves about him, they seemed\npatiently to await the moment when it might comport with the dignity of\nthe stranger to speak. By far the greater number stood leaning, in lazy,\nlounging attitudes, against the upright posts that supported the crazy\nbuilding, while three or four of the oldest and most distinguished of\nthe chiefs placed themselves on the earth a little more in advance.\n\nA flaring torch was burning in the place, and set its red glare from\nface to face and figure to figure, as it waved in the currents of air.\nDuncan profited by its light to read the probable character of his\nreception, in the countenances of his hosts. But his ingenuity availed\nhim little, against the cold artifices of the people he had encountered.\nThe chiefs in front scarce cast a glance at his person, keeping their\neyes on the ground, with an air that might have been intended for\nrespect, but which it was quite easy to construe into distrust. The men\nin the shadow were less reserved. Duncan soon detected their searching,\nbut stolen, looks which, in truth, scanned his person and attire inch by\ninch; leaving no emotion of the countenance, no gesture, no line of the\npaint, nor even the fashion of a garment, unheeded, and without comment.\n\nAt length one whose hair was beginning to be sprinkled with gray, but\nwhose sinewy limbs and firm tread announced that he was still equal to\nthe duties of manhood, advanced out of the gloom of a corner, whither he\nhad probably posted himself to make his observations unseen, and\nspoke. He used the language of the Wyandots, or Hurons; his words were,\nconsequently, unintelligible to Heyward, though they seemed, by the\ngestures that accompanied them, to be uttered more in courtesy than\nanger. The latter shook his head, and made a gesture indicative of his\ninability to reply.\n\n\"Do none of my brothers speak the French or the English?\" he said, in\nthe former language, looking about him from countenance to countenance,\nin hopes of finding a nod of assent.\n\nThough more than one had turned, as if to catch the meaning of his\nwords, they remained unanswered.\n\n\"I should be grieved to think,\" continued Duncan, speaking slowly, and\nusing the simplest French of which he was the master, \"to believe that\nnone of this wise and brave nation understand the language that the\n'Grand Monarque' uses when he talks to his children. His heart would be\nheavy did he believe his red warriors paid him so little respect!\"\n\nA long and grave pause succeeded, during which no movement of a limb,\nnor any expression of an eye, betrayed the expression produced by his\nremark. Duncan, who knew that silence was a virtue among his hosts,\ngladly had recourse to the custom, in order to arrange his ideas. At\nlength the same warrior who had before addressed him replied, by dryly\ndemanding, in the language of the Canadas:\n\n\"When our Great Father speaks to his people, is it with the tongue of a\nHuron?\"\n\n\"He knows no difference in his children, whether the color of the skin\nbe red, or black, or white,\" returned Duncan, evasively; \"though chiefly\nis he satisfied with the brave Hurons.\"\n\n\"In what manner will he speak,\" demanded the wary chief, \"when the\nrunners count to him the scalps which five nights ago grew on the heads\nof the Yengeese?\"\n\n\"They were his enemies,\" said Duncan, shuddering involuntarily; \"and\ndoubtless, he will say, it is good; my Hurons are very gallant.\"\n\n\"Our Canada father does not think it. Instead of looking forward to\nreward his Indians, his eyes are turned backward. He sees the dead\nYengeese, but no Huron. What can this mean?\"\n\n\"A great chief, like him, has more thoughts than tongues. He looks to\nsee that no enemies are on his trail.\"\n\n\"The canoe of a dead warrior will not float on the Horican,\" returned\nthe savage, gloomily. \"His ears are open to the Delawares, who are not\nour friends, and they fill them with lies.\"\n\n\"It cannot be. See; he has bid me, who am a man that knows the art of\nhealing, to go to his children, the red Hurons of the great lakes, and\nask if any are sick!\"\n\nAnother silence succeeded this annunciation of the character Duncan\nhad assumed. Every eye was simultaneously bent on his person, as if\nto inquire into the truth or falsehood of the declaration, with an\nintelligence and keenness that caused the subject of their scrutiny to\ntremble for the result. He was, however, relieved again by the former\nspeaker.\n\n\"Do the cunning men of the Canadas paint their skins?\" the Huron coldly\ncontinued; \"we have heard them boast that their faces were pale.\"\n\n\"When an Indian chief comes among his white fathers,\" returned Duncan,\nwith great steadiness, \"he lays aside his buffalo robe, to carry the\nshirt that is offered him. My brothers have given me paint and I wear\nit.\"\n\nA low murmur of applause announced that the compliment of the tribe was\nfavorably received. The elderly chief made a gesture of commendation,\nwhich was answered by most of his companions, who each threw forth\na hand and uttered a brief exclamation of pleasure. Duncan began to\nbreathe more freely, believing that the weight of his examination was\npast; and, as he had already prepared a simple and probable tale to\nsupport his pretended occupation, his hopes of ultimate success grew\nbrighter.\n\nAfter a silence of a few moments, as if adjusting his thoughts, in\norder to make a suitable answer to the declaration their guests had\njust given, another warrior arose, and placed himself in an attitude to\nspeak. While his lips were yet in the act of parting, a low but fearful\nsound arose from the forest, and was immediately succeeded by a high,\nshrill yell, that was drawn out, until it equaled the longest and most\nplaintive howl of the wolf. The sudden and terrible interruption caused\nDuncan to start from his seat, unconscious of everything but the effect\nproduced by so frightful a cry. At the same moment, the warriors glided\nin a body from the lodge, and the outer air was filled with loud shouts,\nthat nearly drowned those awful sounds, which were still ringing beneath\nthe arches of the woods. Unable to command himself any longer, the youth\nbroke from the place, and presently stood in the center of a disorderly\nthrong, that included nearly everything having life, within the limits\nof the encampment. Men, women, and children; the aged, the inform, the\nactive, and the strong, were alike abroad, some exclaiming aloud, others\nclapping their hands with a joy that seemed frantic, and all expressing\ntheir savage pleasure in some unexpected event. Though astounded, at\nfirst, by the uproar, Heyward was soon enabled to find its solution by\nthe scene that followed.\n\nThere yet lingered sufficient light in the heavens to exhibit those\nbright openings among the tree-tops, where different paths left the\nclearing to enter the depths of the wilderness. Beneath one of them, a\nline of warriors issued from the woods, and advanced slowly toward the\ndwellings. One in front bore a short pole, on which, as it afterwards\nappeared, were suspended several human scalps. The startling sounds that\nDuncan had heard were what the whites have not inappropriately called\nthe \"death-hallo\"; and each repetition of the cry was intended to\nannounce to the tribe the fate of an enemy. Thus far the knowledge of\nHeyward assisted him in the explanation; and as he now knew that the\ninterruption was caused by the unlooked-for return of a successful\nwar-party, every disagreeable sensation was quieted in inward\ncongratulation, for the opportune relief and insignificance it conferred\non himself.\n\nWhen at the distance of a few hundred feet from the lodges the newly\narrived warriors halted. Their plaintive and terrific cry, which was\nintended to represent equally the wailings of the dead and the triumph\nto the victors, had entirely ceased. One of their number now called\naloud, in words that were far from appalling, though not more\nintelligible to those for whose ears they were intended, than their\nexpressive yells. It would be difficult to convey a suitable idea of the\nsavage ecstasy with which the news thus imparted was received. The whole\nencampment, in a moment, became a scene of the most violent bustle and\ncommotion. The warriors drew their knives, and flourishing them, they\narranged themselves in two lines, forming a lane that extended from\nthe war-party to the lodges. The squaws seized clubs, axes, or whatever\nweapon of offense first offered itself to their hands, and rushed\neagerly to act their part in the cruel game that was at hand. Even\nthe children would not be excluded; but boys, little able to wield the\ninstruments, tore the tomahawks from the belts of their fathers, and\nstole into the ranks, apt imitators of the savage traits exhibited by\ntheir parents.\n\nLarge piles of brush lay scattered about the clearing, and a wary and\naged squaw was occupied in firing as many as might serve to light the\ncoming exhibition. As the flame arose, its power exceeded that of\nthe parting day, and assisted to render objects at the same time more\ndistinct and more hideous. The whole scene formed a striking picture,\nwhose frame was composed of the dark and tall border of pines. The\nwarriors just arrived were the most distant figures. A little in advance\nstood two men, who were apparently selected from the rest, as the\nprincipal actors in what was to follow. The light was not strong enough\nto render their features distinct, though it was quite evident that\nthey were governed by very different emotions. While one stood erect and\nfirm, prepared to meet his fate like a hero, the other bowed his head,\nas if palsied by terror or stricken with shame. The high-spirited Duncan\nfelt a powerful impulse of admiration and pity toward the former, though\nno opportunity could offer to exhibit his generous emotions. He watched\nhis slightest movement, however, with eager eyes; and, as he traced\nthe fine outline of his admirably proportioned and active frame, he\nendeavored to persuade himself, that, if the powers of man, seconded\nby such noble resolution, could bear one harmless through so severe a\ntrial, the youthful captive before him might hope for success in the\nhazardous race he was about to run. Insensibly the young man drew nigher\nto the swarthy lines of the Hurons, and scarcely breathed, so intense\nbecame his interest in the spectacle. Just then the signal yell was\ngiven, and the momentary quiet which had preceded it was broken by a\nburst of cries, that far exceeded any before heard. The more abject of\nthe two victims continued motionless; but the other bounded from the\nplace at the cry, with the activity and swiftness of a deer. Instead of\nrushing through the hostile lines, as had been expected, he just entered\nthe dangerous defile, and before time was given for a single blow,\nturned short, and leaping the heads of a row of children, he gained at\nonce the exterior and safer side of the formidable array. The artifice\nwas answered by a hundred voices raised in imprecations; and the whole\nof the excited multitude broke from their order, and spread themselves\nabout the place in wild confusion.\n\nA dozen blazing piles now shed their lurid brightness on the place,\nwhich resembled some unhallowed and supernatural arena, in which\nmalicious demons had assembled to act their bloody and lawless rites.\nThe forms in the background looked like unearthly beings, gliding before\nthe eye, and cleaving the air with frantic and unmeaning gestures; while\nthe savage passions of such as passed the flames were rendered fearfully\ndistinct by the gleams that shot athwart their inflamed visages.\n\nIt will easily be understood that, amid such a concourse of vindictive\nenemies, no breathing time was allowed the fugitive. There was a single\nmoment when it seemed as if he would have reached the forest, but the\nwhole body of his captors threw themselves before him, and drove him\nback into the center of his relentless persecutors. Turning like a\nheaded deer, he shot, with the swiftness of an arrow, through a pillar\nof forked flame, and passing the whole multitude harmless, he appeared\non the opposite side of the clearing. Here, too, he was met and turned\nby a few of the older and more subtle of the Hurons. Once more he tried\nthe throng, as if seeking safety in its blindness, and then several\nmoments succeeded, during which Duncan believed the active and\ncourageous young stranger was lost.\n\nNothing could be distinguished but a dark mass of human forms tossed\nand involved in inexplicable confusion. Arms, gleaming knives, and\nformidable clubs, appeared above them, but the blows were evidently\ngiven at random. The awful effect was heightened by the piercing shrieks\nof the women and the fierce yells of the warriors. Now and then Duncan\ncaught a glimpse of a light form cleaving the air in some desperate\nbound, and he rather hoped than believed that the captive yet retained\nthe command of his astonishing powers of activity. Suddenly the\nmultitude rolled backward, and approached the spot where he himself\nstood. The heavy body in the rear pressed upon the women and children\nin front, and bore them to the earth. The stranger reappeared in the\nconfusion. Human power could not, however, much longer endure so\nsevere a trial. Of this the captive seemed conscious. Profiting by\nthe momentary opening, he darted from among the warriors, and made a\ndesperate, and what seemed to Duncan a final effort to gain the wood.\nAs if aware that no danger was to be apprehended from the young soldier,\nthe fugitive nearly brushed his person in his flight. A tall and\npowerful Huron, who had husbanded his forces, pressed close upon his\nheels, and with an uplifted arm menaced a fatal blow. Duncan thrust\nforth a foot, and the shock precipitated the eager savage headlong, many\nfeet in advance of his intended victim. Thought itself is not quicker\nthan was the motion with which the latter profited by the advantage; he\nturned, gleamed like a meteor again before the eyes of Duncan, and, at\nthe next moment, when the latter recovered his recollection, and gazed\naround in quest of the captive, he saw him quietly leaning against a\nsmall painted post, which stood before the door of the principal lodge.\n\nApprehensive that the part he had taken in the escape might prove fatal\nto himself, Duncan left the place without delay. He followed the crowd,\nwhich drew nigh the lodges, gloomy and sullen, like any other multitude\nthat had been disappointed in an execution. Curiosity, or perhaps a\nbetter feeling, induced him to approach the stranger. He found him,\nstanding with one arm cast about the protecting post, and breathing\nthick and hard, after his exertions, but disdaining to permit a single\nsign of suffering to escape. His person was now protected by immemorial\nand sacred usage, until the tribe in council had deliberated and\ndetermined on his fate. It was not difficult, however, to foretell the\nresult, if any presage could be drawn from the feelings of those who\ncrowded the place.\n\nThere was no term of abuse known to the Huron vocabulary that the\ndisappointed women did not lavishly expend on the successful stranger.\nThey flouted at his efforts, and told him, with bitter scoffs, that his\nfeet were better than his hands; and that he merited wings, while he\nknew not the use of an arrow or a knife. To all this the captive made\nno reply; but was content to preserve an attitude in which dignity was\nsingularly blended with disdain. Exasperated as much by his composure\nas by his good-fortune, their words became unintelligible, and were\nsucceeded by shrill, piercing yells. Just then the crafty squaw, who had\ntaken the necessary precaution to fire the piles, made her way through\nthe throng, and cleared a place for herself in front of the captive. The\nsqualid and withered person of this hag might well have obtained for her\nthe character of possessing more than human cunning. Throwing back her\nlight vestment, she stretched forth her long, skinny arm, in derision,\nand using the language of the Lenape, as more intelligible to the\nsubject of her gibes, she commenced aloud:\n\n\"Look you, Delaware,\" she said, snapping her fingers in his face; \"your\nnation is a race of women, and the hoe is better fitted to your hands\nthan the gun. Your squaws are the mothers of deer; but if a bear, or\na wildcat, or a serpent were born among you, ye would flee. The Huron\ngirls shall make you petticoats, and we will find you a husband.\"\n\nA burst of savage laughter succeeded this attack, during which the soft\nand musical merriment of the younger females strangely chimed with\nthe cracked voice of their older and more malignant companion. But the\nstranger was superior to all their efforts. His head was immovable; nor\ndid he betray the slightest consciousness that any were present, except\nwhen his haughty eye rolled toward the dusky forms of the warriors, who\nstalked in the background silent and sullen observers of the scene.\n\nInfuriated at the self-command of the captive, the woman placed her arms\nakimbo; and, throwing herself into a posture of defiance, she broke\nout anew, in a torrent of words that no art of ours could commit\nsuccessfully to paper. Her breath was, however, expended in vain; for,\nalthough distinguished in her nation as a proficient in the art of\nabuse, she was permitted to work herself into such a fury as actually to\nfoam at the mouth, without causing a muscle to vibrate in the motionless\nfigure of the stranger. The effect of his indifference began to extend\nitself to the other spectators; and a youngster, who was just quitting\nthe condition of a boy to enter the state of manhood, attempted to\nassist the termagant, by flourishing his tomahawk before their victim,\nand adding his empty boasts to the taunts of the women. Then, indeed,\nthe captive turned his face toward the light, and looked down on the\nstripling with an expression that was superior to contempt. At the next\nmoment he resumed his quiet and reclining attitude against the post. But\nthe change of posture had permitted Duncan to exchange glances with the\nfirm and piercing eyes of Uncas.\n\nBreathless with amazement, and heavily oppressed with the critical\nsituation of his friend, Heyward recoiled before the look, trembling\nlest its meaning might, in some unknown manner, hasten the prisoner's\nfate. There was not, however, any instant cause for such an\napprehension. Just then a warrior forced his way into the exasperated\ncrowd. Motioning the women and children aside with a stern gesture, he\ntook Uncas by the arm, and led him toward the door of the council-lodge.\nThither all the chiefs, and most of the distinguished warriors,\nfollowed; among whom the anxious Heyward found means to enter without\nattracting any dangerous attention to himself.\n\nA few minutes were consumed in disposing of those present in a manner\nsuitable to their rank and influence in the tribe. An order very similar\nto that adopted in the preceding interview was observed; the aged and\nsuperior chiefs occupying the area of the spacious apartment, within\nthe powerful light of a glaring torch, while their juniors and inferiors\nwere arranged in the background, presenting a dark outline of swarthy\nand marked visages. In the very center of the lodge, immediately under\nan opening that admitted the twinkling light of one or two stars, stood\nUncas, calm, elevated, and collected. His high and haughty carriage was\nnot lost on his captors, who often bent their looks on his person, with\neyes which, while they lost none of their inflexibility of purpose,\nplainly betrayed their admiration of the stranger's daring.\n\nThe case was different with the individual whom Duncan had observed to\nstand forth with his friend, previously to the desperate trial of speed;\nand who, instead of joining in the chase, had remained, throughout\nits turbulent uproar, like a cringing statue, expressive of shame and\ndisgrace. Though not a hand had been extended to greet him, nor yet an\neye had condescended to watch his movements, he had also entered the\nlodge, as though impelled by a fate to whose decrees he submitted,\nseemingly, without a struggle. Heyward profited by the first opportunity\nto gaze in his face, secretly apprehensive he might find the features\nof another acquaintance; but they proved to be those of a stranger, and,\nwhat was still more inexplicable, of one who bore all the distinctive\nmarks of a Huron warrior. Instead of mingling with his tribe, however,\nhe sat apart, a solitary being in a multitude, his form shrinking into a\ncrouching and abject attitude, as if anxious to fill as little space as\npossible. When each individual had taken his proper station, and silence\nreigned in the place, the gray-haired chief already introduced to the\nreader, spoke aloud, in the language of the Lenni Lenape.\n\n\"Delaware,\" he said, \"though one of a nation of women, you have proved\nyourself a man. I would give you food; but he who eats with a Huron\nshould become his friend. Rest in peace till the morning sun, when our\nlast words shall be spoken.\"\n\n\"Seven nights, and as many summer days, have I fasted on the trail of\nthe Hurons,\" Uncas coldly replied; \"the children of the Lenape know how\nto travel the path of the just without lingering to eat.\"\n\n\"Two of my young men are in pursuit of your companion,\" resumed the\nother, without appearing to regard the boast of his captive; \"when they\nget back, then will our wise man say to you 'live' or 'die'.\"\n\n\"Has a Huron no ears?\" scornfully exclaimed Uncas; \"twice, since he has\nbeen your prisoner, has the Delaware heard a gun that he knows. Your\nyoung men will never come back!\"\n\nA short and sullen pause succeeded this bold assertion. Duncan, who\nunderstood the Mohican to allude to the fatal rifle of the scout, bent\nforward in earnest observation of the effect it might produce on the\nconquerors; but the chief was content with simply retorting:\n\n\"If the Lenape are so skillful, why is one of their bravest warriors\nhere?\"\n\n\"He followed in the steps of a flying coward, and fell into a snare. The\ncunning beaver may be caught.\"\n\nAs Uncas thus replied, he pointed with his finger toward the solitary\nHuron, but without deigning to bestow any other notice on so unworthy\nan object. The words of the answer and the air of the speaker produced\na strong sensation among his auditors. Every eye rolled sullenly toward\nthe individual indicated by the simple gesture, and a low, threatening\nmurmur passed through the crowd. The ominous sounds reached the outer\ndoor, and the women and children pressing into the throng, no gap had\nbeen left, between shoulder and shoulder, that was not now filled with\nthe dark lineaments of some eager and curious human countenance.\n\nIn the meantime, the more aged chiefs, in the center, communed with each\nother in short and broken sentences. Not a word was uttered that did not\nconvey the meaning of the speaker, in the simplest and most energetic\nform. Again, a long and deeply solemn pause took place. It was known,\nby all present, to be the brave precursor of a weighty and important\njudgment. They who composed the outer circle of faces were on tiptoe to\ngaze; and even the culprit for an instant forgot his shame in a deeper\nemotion, and exposed his abject features, in order to cast an anxious\nand troubled glance at the dark assemblage of chiefs. The silence was\nfinally broken by the aged warrior so often named. He arose from the\nearth, and moving past the immovable form of Uncas, placed himself in\na dignified attitude before the offender. At that moment, the withered\nsquaw already mentioned moved into the circle, in a slow, sidling sort\nof a dance, holding the torch, and muttering the indistinct words of\nwhat might have been a species of incantation. Though her presence was\naltogether an intrusion, it was unheeded.\n\nApproaching Uncas, she held the blazing brand in such a manner as to\ncast its red glare on his person, and to expose the slightest emotion of\nhis countenance. The Mohican maintained his firm and haughty attitude;\nand his eyes, so far from deigning to meet her inquisitive look, dwelt\nsteadily on the distance, as though it penetrated the obstacles\nwhich impeded the view and looked into futurity. Satisfied with her\nexamination, she left him, with a slight expression of pleasure, and\nproceeded to practise the same trying experiment on her delinquent\ncountryman.\n\nThe young Huron was in his war paint, and very little of a finely molded\nform was concealed by his attire. The light rendered every limb and\njoint discernible, and Duncan turned away in horror when he saw they\nwere writhing in irrepressible agony. The woman was commencing a low\nand plaintive howl at the sad and shameful spectacle, when the chief put\nforth his hand and gently pushed her aside.\n\n\"Reed-that-bends,\" he said, addressing the young culprit by name, and in\nhis proper language, \"though the Great Spirit has made you pleasant to\nthe eyes, it would have been better that you had not been born. Your\ntongue is loud in the village, but in battle it is still. None of my\nyoung men strike the tomahawk deeper into the war-post--none of them so\nlightly on the Yengeese. The enemy know the shape of your back, but they\nhave never seen the color of your eyes. Three times have they called on\nyou to come, and as often did you forget to answer. Your name will never\nbe mentioned again in your tribe--it is already forgotten.\"\n\nAs the chief slowly uttered these words, pausing impressively between\neach sentence, the culprit raised his face, in deference to the other's\nrank and years. Shame, horror, and pride struggled in its lineaments.\nHis eye, which was contracted with inward anguish, gleamed on the\npersons of those whose breath was his fame; and the latter emotion for\nan instant predominated. He arose to his feet, and baring his bosom,\nlooked steadily on the keen, glittering knife, that was already upheld\nby his inexorable judge. As the weapon passed slowly into his heart he\neven smiled, as if in joy at having found death less dreadful than he\nhad anticipated, and fell heavily on his face, at the feet of the rigid\nand unyielding form of Uncas.\n\nThe squaw gave a loud and plaintive yell, dashed the torch to the\nearth, and buried everything in darkness. The whole shuddering group\nof spectators glided from the lodge like troubled sprites; and Duncan\nthought that he and the yet throbbing body of the victim of an Indian\njudgment had now become its only tenants.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 24\n\n     \"Thus spoke the sage: the kings without delay\n     Dissolve the council, and their chief obey.\"\n     --Pope's Iliad\n\nA single moment served to convince the youth that he was mistaken. A\nhand was laid, with a powerful pressure, on his arm, and the low voice\nof Uncas muttered in his ear:\n\n\"The Hurons are dogs. The sight of a coward's blood can never make a\nwarrior tremble. The 'Gray Head' and the Sagamore are safe, and the\nrifle of Hawkeye is not asleep. Go--Uncas and the 'Open Hand' are now\nstrangers. It is enough.\"\n\nHeyward would gladly have heard more, but a gentle push from his friend\nurged him toward the door, and admonished him of the danger that might\nattend the discovery of their intercourse. Slowly and reluctantly\nyielding to the necessity, he quitted the place, and mingled with the\nthrong that hovered nigh. The dying fires in the clearing cast a dim and\nuncertain light on the dusky figures that were silently stalking to\nand fro; and occasionally a brighter gleam than common glanced into the\nlodge, and exhibited the figure of Uncas still maintaining its upright\nattitude near the dead body of the Huron.\n\nA knot of warriors soon entered the place again, and reissuing,\nthey bore the senseless remains into the adjacent woods. After this\ntermination of the scene, Duncan wandered among the lodges, unquestioned\nand unnoticed, endeavoring to find some trace of her in whose behalf he\nincurred the risk he ran. In the present temper of the tribe it would\nhave been easy to have fled and rejoined his companions, had such a\nwish crossed his mind. But, in addition to the never-ceasing anxiety on\naccount of Alice, a fresher though feebler interest in the fate of Uncas\nassisted to chain him to the spot. He continued, therefore, to stray\nfrom hut to hut, looking into each only to encounter additional\ndisappointment, until he had made the entire circuit of the village.\nAbandoning a species of inquiry that proved so fruitless, he retraced\nhis steps to the council-lodge, resolved to seek and question David, in\norder to put an end to his doubts.\n\nOn reaching the building, which had proved alike the seat of judgment\nand the place of execution, the young man found that the excitement\nhad already subsided. The warriors had reassembled, and were now calmly\nsmoking, while they conversed gravely on the chief incidents of their\nrecent expedition to the head of the Horican. Though the return of\nDuncan was likely to remind them of his character, and the suspicious\ncircumstances of his visit, it produced no visible sensation. So far,\nthe terrible scene that had just occurred proved favorable to his views,\nand he required no other prompter than his own feelings to convince him\nof the expediency of profiting by so unexpected an advantage.\n\nWithout seeming to hesitate, he walked into the lodge, and took his seat\nwith a gravity that accorded admirably with the deportment of his hosts.\nA hasty but searching glance sufficed to tell him that, though Uncas\nstill remained where he had left him, David had not reappeared. No other\nrestraint was imposed on the former than the watchful looks of a young\nHuron, who had placed himself at hand; though an armed warrior leaned\nagainst the post that formed one side of the narrow doorway. In every\nother respect, the captive seemed at liberty; still he was excluded from\nall participation in the discourse, and possessed much more of the air\nof some finely molded statue than a man having life and volition.\n\nHeyward had too recently witnessed a frightful instance of the prompt\npunishments of the people into whose hands he had fallen to hazard an\nexposure by any officious boldness. He would greatly have preferred\nsilence and meditation to speech, when a discovery of his real\ncondition might prove so instantly fatal. Unfortunately for this prudent\nresolution, his entertainers appeared otherwise disposed. He had not\nlong occupied the seat wisely taken a little in the shade, when another\nof the elder warriors, who spoke the French language, addressed him:\n\n\"My Canada father does not forget his children,\" said the chief; \"I\nthank him. An evil spirit lives in the wife of one of my young men. Can\nthe cunning stranger frighten him away?\"\n\nHeyward possessed some knowledge of the mummery practised among the\nIndians, in the cases of such supposed visitations. He saw, at a glance,\nthat the circumstance might possibly be improved to further his own\nends. It would, therefore, have been difficult, just then to have\nuttered a proposal that would have given him more satisfaction. Aware\nof the necessity of preserving the dignity of his imaginary character,\nhowever, he repressed his feelings, and answered with suitable mystery:\n\n\"Spirits differ; some yield to the power of wisdom, while others are too\nstrong.\"\n\n\"My brother is a great medicine,\" said the cunning savage; \"he will\ntry?\"\n\nA gesture of assent was the answer. The Huron was content with the\nassurance, and, resuming his pipe, he awaited the proper moment to\nmove. The impatient Heyward, inwardly execrating the cold customs of\nthe savages, which required such sacrifices to appearance, was fain to\nassume an air of indifference, equal to that maintained by the chief,\nwho was, in truth, a near relative of the afflicted woman. The minutes\nlingered, and the delay had seemed an hour to the adventurer in\nempiricism, when the Huron laid aside his pipe and drew his robe across\nhis breast, as if about to lead the way to the lodge of the invalid.\nJust then, a warrior of powerful frame, darkened the door, and stalking\nsilently among the attentive group, he seated himself on one end of the\nlow pile of brush which sustained Duncan. The latter cast an impatient\nlook at his neighbor, and felt his flesh creep with uncontrollable\nhorror when he found himself in actual contact with Magua.\n\nThe sudden return of this artful and dreaded chief caused a delay in the\ndeparture of the Huron. Several pipes, that had been extinguished, were\nlighted again; while the newcomer, without speaking a word, drew his\ntomahawk from his girdle, and filling the bowl on its head began to\ninhale the vapors of the weed through the hollow handle, with as much\nindifference as if he had not been absent two weary days on a long and\ntoilsome hunt. Ten minutes, which appeared so many ages to Duncan, might\nhave passed in this manner; and the warriors were fairly enveloped in a\ncloud of white smoke before any of them spoke.\n\n\"Welcome!\" one at length uttered; \"has my friend found the moose?\"\n\n\"The young men stagger under their burdens,\" returned Magua. \"Let\n'Reed-that-bends' go on the hunting path; he will meet them.\"\n\nA deep and awful silence succeeded the utterance of the forbidden name.\nEach pipe dropped from the lips of its owner as though all had inhaled\nan impurity at the same instant. The smoke wreathed above their heads in\nlittle eddies, and curling in a spiral form it ascended swiftly through\nthe opening in the roof of the lodge, leaving the place beneath clear of\nits fumes, and each dark visage distinctly visible. The looks of most of\nthe warriors were riveted on the earth; though a few of the younger and\nless gifted of the party suffered their wild and glaring eyeballs to\nroll in the direction of a white-headed savage, who sat between two of\nthe most venerated chiefs of the tribe. There was nothing in the air\nor attire of this Indian that would seem to entitle him to such a\ndistinction. The former was rather depressed, than remarkable for the\nbearing of the natives; and the latter was such as was commonly worn\nby the ordinary men of the nation. Like most around him for more than\na minute his look, too, was on the ground; but, trusting his eyes at\nlength to steal a glance aside, he perceived that he was becoming an\nobject of general attention. Then he arose and lifted his voice in the\ngeneral silence.\n\n\"It was a lie,\" he said; \"I had no son. He who was called by that name\nis forgotten; his blood was pale, and it came not from the veins of a\nHuron; the wicked Chippewas cheated my squaw. The Great Spirit has said,\nthat the family of Wiss-entush should end; he is happy who knows that\nthe evil of his race dies with himself. I have done.\"\n\nThe speaker, who was the father of the recreant young Indian, looked\nround and about him, as if seeking commendation of his stoicism in the\neyes of the auditors. But the stern customs of his people had made too\nsevere an exaction of the feeble old man. The expression of his eye\ncontradicted his figurative and boastful language, while every muscle in\nhis wrinkled visage was working with anguish. Standing a single minute\nto enjoy his bitter triumph, he turned away, as if sickening at the gaze\nof men, and, veiling his face in his blanket, he walked from the lodge\nwith the noiseless step of an Indian seeking, in the privacy of his own\nabode, the sympathy of one like himself, aged, forlorn and childless.\n\nThe Indians, who believe in the hereditary transmission of virtues and\ndefects in character, suffered him to depart in silence. Then, with an\nelevation of breeding that many in a more cultivated state of society\nmight profitably emulate, one of the chiefs drew the attention of the\nyoung men from the weakness they had just witnessed, by saying, in a\ncheerful voice, addressing himself in courtesy to Magua, as the newest\ncomer:\n\n\"The Delawares have been like bears after the honey pots, prowling\naround my village. But who has ever found a Huron asleep?\"\n\nThe darkness of the impending cloud which precedes a burst of thunder\nwas not blacker than the brow of Magua as he exclaimed:\n\n\"The Delawares of the Lakes!\"\n\n\"Not so. They who wear the petticoats of squaws, on their own river. One\nof them has been passing the tribe.\"\n\n\"Did my young men take his scalp?\"\n\n\"His legs were good, though his arm is better for the hoe than the\ntomahawk,\" returned the other, pointing to the immovable form of Uncas.\n\nInstead of manifesting any womanish curiosity to feast his eyes with the\nsight of a captive from a people he was known to have so much reason to\nhate, Magua continued to smoke, with the meditative air that he usually\nmaintained, when there was no immediate call on his cunning or his\neloquence. Although secretly amazed at the facts communicated by the\nspeech of the aged father, he permitted himself to ask no questions,\nreserving his inquiries for a more suitable moment. It was only after a\nsufficient interval that he shook the ashes from his pipe, replaced the\ntomahawk, tightened his girdle, and arose, casting for the first time a\nglance in the direction of the prisoner, who stood a little behind him.\nThe wary, though seemingly abstracted Uncas, caught a glimpse of the\nmovement, and turning suddenly to the light, their looks met. Near a\nminute these two bold and untamed spirits stood regarding one another\nsteadily in the eye, neither quailing in the least before the fierce\ngaze he encountered. The form of Uncas dilated, and his nostrils opened\nlike those of a tiger at bay; but so rigid and unyielding was his\nposture, that he might easily have been converted by the imagination\ninto an exquisite and faultless representation of the warlike deity of\nhis tribe. The lineaments of the quivering features of Magua proved more\nductile; his countenance gradually lost its character of defiance in an\nexpression of ferocious joy, and heaving a breath from the very bottom\nof his chest, he pronounced aloud the formidable name of:\n\n\"Le Cerf Agile!\"\n\nEach warrior sprang upon his feet at the utterance of the well-known\nappellation, and there was a short period during which the stoical\nconstancy of the natives was completely conquered by surprise. The hated\nand yet respected name was repeated as by one voice, carrying the\nsound even beyond the limits of the lodge. The women and children, who\nlingered around the entrance, took up the words in an echo, which was\nsucceeded by another shrill and plaintive howl. The latter was not yet\nended, when the sensation among the men had entirely abated. Each one in\npresence seated himself, as though ashamed of his precipitation; but it\nwas many minutes before their meaning eyes ceased to roll toward their\ncaptive, in curious examination of a warrior who had so often proved\nhis prowess on the best and proudest of their nation. Uncas enjoyed his\nvictory, but was content with merely exhibiting his triumph by a quiet\nsmile--an emblem of scorn which belongs to all time and every nation.\n\nMagua caught the expression, and raising his arm, he shook it at the\ncaptive, the light silver ornaments attached to his bracelet rattling\nwith the trembling agitation of the limb, as, in a tone of vengeance, he\nexclaimed, in English:\n\n\"Mohican, you die!\"\n\n\"The healing waters will never bring the dead Hurons to life,\" returned\nUncas, in the music of the Delawares; \"the tumbling river washes their\nbones; their men are squaws: their women owls. Go! call together the\nHuron dogs, that they may look upon a warrior, My nostrils are offended;\nthey scent the blood of a coward.\"\n\nThe latter allusion struck deep, and the injury rankled. Many of the\nHurons understood the strange tongue in which the captive spoke, among\nwhich number was Magua. This cunning savage beheld, and instantly\nprofited by his advantage. Dropping the light robe of skin from his\nshoulder, he stretched forth his arm, and commenced a burst of his\ndangerous and artful eloquence. However much his influence among his\npeople had been impaired by his occasional and besetting weakness, as\nwell as by his desertion of the tribe, his courage and his fame as an\norator were undeniable. He never spoke without auditors, and rarely\nwithout making converts to his opinions. On the present occasion, his\nnative powers were stimulated by the thirst of revenge.\n\nHe again recounted the events of the attack on the island at Glenn's,\nthe death of his associates and the escape of their most formidable\nenemies. Then he described the nature and position of the mount whither\nhe had led such captives as had fallen into their hands. Of his own\nbloody intentions toward the maidens, and of his baffled malice he made\nno mention, but passed rapidly on to the surprise of the party by \"La\nLongue Carabine,\" and its fatal termination. Here he paused, and looked\nabout him, in affected veneration for the departed, but, in truth,\nto note the effect of his opening narrative. As usual, every eye was\nriveted on his face. Each dusky figure seemed a breathing statue, so\nmotionless was the posture, so intense the attention of the individual.\n\nThen Magua dropped his voice which had hitherto been clear, strong and\nelevated, and touched upon the merits of the dead. No quality that was\nlikely to command the sympathy of an Indian escaped his notice. One\nhad never been known to follow the chase in vain; another had been\nindefatigable on the trail of their enemies. This was brave, that\ngenerous. In short, he so managed his allusions, that in a nation which\nwas composed of so few families, he contrived to strike every chord that\nmight find, in its turn, some breast in which to vibrate.\n\n\"Are the bones of my young men,\" he concluded, \"in the burial-place of\nthe Hurons? You know they are not. Their spirits are gone toward the\nsetting sun, and are already crossing the great waters, to the happy\nhunting-grounds. But they departed without food, without guns or knives,\nwithout moccasins, naked and poor as they were born. Shall this be?\nAre their souls to enter the land of the just like hungry Iroquois or\nunmanly Delawares, or shall they meet their friends with arms in their\nhands and robes on their backs? What will our fathers think the tribes\nof the Wyandots have become? They will look on their children with a\ndark eye, and say, 'Go! a Chippewa has come hither with the name of a\nHuron.' Brothers, we must not forget the dead; a red-skin never ceases\nto remember. We will load the back of this Mohican until he staggers\nunder our bounty, and dispatch him after my young men. They call to us\nfor aid, though our ears are not open; they say, 'Forget us not.' When\nthey see the spirit of this Mohican toiling after them with his burden,\nthey will know we are of that mind. Then will they go on happy; and our\nchildren will say, 'So did our fathers to their friends, so must we do\nto them.' What is a Yengee? we have slain many, but the earth is still\npale. A stain on the name of Huron can only be hid by blood that comes\nfrom the veins of an Indian. Let this Delaware die.\"\n\nThe effect of such an harangue, delivered in the nervous language and\nwith the emphatic manner of a Huron orator, could scarcely be mistaken.\nMagua had so artfully blended the natural sympathies with the religious\nsuperstition of his auditors, that their minds, already prepared by\ncustom to sacrifice a victim to the manes of their countrymen, lost\nevery vestige of humanity in a wish for revenge. One warrior in\nparticular, a man of wild and ferocious mien, had been conspicuous for\nthe attention he had given to the words of the speaker. His countenance\nhad changed with each passing emotion, until it settled into a look\nof deadly malice. As Magua ended he arose and, uttering the yell of a\ndemon, his polished little axe was seen glancing in the torchlight as\nhe whirled it above his head. The motion and the cry were too sudden\nfor words to interrupt his bloody intention. It appeared as if a bright\ngleam shot from his hand, which was crossed at the same moment by a\ndark and powerful line. The former was the tomahawk in its passage; the\nlatter the arm that Magua darted forward to divert its aim. The quick\nand ready motion of the chief was not entirely too late. The keen weapon\ncut the war plume from the scalping tuft of Uncas, and passed through\nthe frail wall of the lodge as though it were hurled from some\nformidable engine.\n\nDuncan had seen the threatening action, and sprang upon his feet, with\na heart which, while it leaped into his throat, swelled with the most\ngenerous resolution in behalf of his friend. A glance told him that the\nblow had failed, and terror changed to admiration. Uncas stood still,\nlooking his enemy in the eye with features that seemed superior to\nemotion. Marble could not be colder, calmer, or steadier than the\ncountenance he put upon this sudden and vindictive attack. Then, as if\npitying a want of skill which had proved so fortunate to himself, he\nsmiled, and muttered a few words of contempt in his own tongue.\n\n\"No!\" said Magua, after satisfying himself of the safety of the captive;\n\"the sun must shine on his shame; the squaws must see his flesh tremble,\nor our revenge will be like the play of boys. Go! take him where there\nis silence; let us see if a Delaware can sleep at night, and in the\nmorning die.\"\n\nThe young men whose duty it was to guard the prisoner instantly passed\ntheir ligaments of bark across his arms, and led him from the lodge,\namid a profound and ominous silence. It was only as the figure of Uncas\nstood in the opening of the door that his firm step hesitated. There he\nturned, and, in the sweeping and haughty glance that he threw around\nthe circle of his enemies, Duncan caught a look which he was glad to\nconstrue into an expression that he was not entirely deserted by hope.\n\nMagua was content with his success, or too much occupied with his secret\npurposes to push his inquiries any further. Shaking his mantle, and\nfolding it on his bosom, he also quitted the place, without pursuing a\nsubject which might have proved so fatal to the individual at his elbow.\nNotwithstanding his rising resentment, his natural firmness, and his\nanxiety on behalf of Uncas, Heyward felt sensibly relieved by the\nabsence of so dangerous and so subtle a foe. The excitement produced\nby the speech gradually subsided. The warriors resumed their seats and\nclouds of smoke once more filled the lodge. For near half an hour, not\na syllable was uttered, or scarcely a look cast aside; a grave and\nmeditative silence being the ordinary succession to every scene of\nviolence and commotion among these beings, who were alike so impetuous\nand yet so self-restrained.\n\nWhen the chief, who had solicited the aid of Duncan, finished his pipe,\nhe made a final and successful movement toward departing. A motion of a\nfinger was the intimation he gave the supposed physician to follow; and\npassing through the clouds of smoke, Duncad was glad, on more accounts\nthan one, to be able at last to breathe the pure air of a cool and\nrefreshing summer evening.\n\nInstead of pursuing his way among those lodges where Heyward had already\nmade his unsuccessful search, his companion turned aside, and proceeded\ndirectly toward the base of an adjacent mountain, which overhung the\ntemporary village. A thicket of brush skirted its foot, and it became\nnecessary to proceed through a crooked and narrow path. The boys had\nresumed their sports in the clearing, and were enacting a mimic chase\nto the post among themselves. In order to render their games as like the\nreality as possible, one of the boldest of their number had conveyed a\nfew brands into some piles of tree-tops that had hitherto escaped the\nburning. The blaze of one of these fires lighted the way of the chief\nand Duncan, and gave a character of additional wildness to the rude\nscenery. At a little distance from a bald rock, and directly in its\nfront, they entered a grassy opening, which they prepared to cross. Just\nthen fresh fuel was added to the fire, and a powerful light penetrated\neven to that distant spot. It fell upon the white surface of the\nmountain, and was reflected downward upon a dark and mysterious-looking\nbeing that arose, unexpectedly, in their path. The Indian paused, as if\ndoubtful whether to proceed, and permitted his companion to approach his\nside. A large black ball, which at first seemed stationary, now began\nto move in a manner that to the latter was inexplicable. Again the fire\nbrightened and its glare fell more distinctly on the object. Then even\nDuncan knew it, by its restless and sidling attitudes, which kept the\nupper part of its form in constant motion, while the animal itself\nappeared seated, to be a bear. Though it growled loudly and fiercely,\nand there were instants when its glistening eyeballs might be seen,\nit gave no other indications of hostility. The Huron, at least, seemed\nassured that the intentions of this singular intruder were peaceable,\nfor after giving it an attentive examination, he quietly pursued his\ncourse.\n\nDuncan, who knew that the animal was often domesticated among the\nIndians, followed the example of his companion, believing that some\nfavorite of the tribe had found its way into the thicket, in search\nof food. They passed it unmolested. Though obliged to come nearly\nin contact with the monster, the Huron, who had at first so warily\ndetermined the character of his strange visitor, was now content with\nproceeding without wasting a moment in further examination; but Heyward\nwas unable to prevent his eyes from looking backward, in salutary\nwatchfulness against attacks in the rear. His uneasiness was in no\ndegree diminished when he perceived the beast rolling along their path,\nand following their footsteps. He would have spoken, but the Indian at\nthat moment shoved aside a door of bark, and entered a cavern in the\nbosom of the mountain.\n\nProfiting by so easy a method of retreat, Duncan stepped after him,\nand was gladly closing the slight cover to the opening, when he felt it\ndrawn from his hand by the beast, whose shaggy form immediately darkened\nthe passage. They were now in a straight and long gallery, in a chasm of\nthe rocks, where retreat without encountering the animal was impossible.\nMaking the best of the circumstances, the young man pressed forward,\nkeeping as close as possible to his conductor. The bear growled\nfrequently at his heels, and once or twice its enormous paws were laid\non his person, as if disposed to prevent his further passage into the\nden.\n\nHow long the nerves of Heyward would have sustained him in this\nextraordinary situation, it might be difficult to decide, for, happily,\nhe soon found relief. A glimmer of light had constantly been in their\nfront, and they now arrived at the place whence it proceeded.\n\nA large cavity in the rock had been rudely fitted to answer the purposes\nof many apartments. The subdivisions were simple but ingenious, being\ncomposed of stone, sticks, and bark, intermingled. Openings above\nadmitted the light by day, and at night fires and torches supplied the\nplace of the sun. Hither the Hurons had brought most of their valuables,\nespecially those which more particularly pertained to the nation; and\nhither, as it now appeared, the sick woman, who was believed to be\nthe victim of supernatural power, had been transported also, under an\nimpression that her tormentor would find more difficulty in making his\nassaults through walls of stone than through the leafy coverings of the\nlodges. The apartment into which Duncan and his guide first entered, had\nbeen exclusively devoted to her accommodation. The latter approached her\nbedside, which was surrounded by females, in the center of whom Heyward\nwas surprised to find his missing friend David.\n\nA single look was sufficient to apprise the pretended leech that the\ninvalid was far beyond his powers of healing. She lay in a sort of\nparalysis, indifferent to the objects which crowded before her sight,\nand happily unconscious of suffering. Heyward was far from regretting\nthat his mummeries were to be performed on one who was much too ill\nto take an interest in their failure or success. The slight qualm\nof conscience which had been excited by the intended deception was\ninstantly appeased, and he began to collect his thoughts, in order to\nenact his part with suitable spirit, when he found he was about to be\nanticipated in his skill by an attempt to prove the power of music.\n\nGamut, who had stood prepared to pour forth his spirit in song when the\nvisitors entered, after delaying a moment, drew a strain from his pipe,\nand commenced a hymn that might have worked a miracle, had faith in its\nefficacy been of much avail. He was allowed to proceed to the close, the\nIndians respecting his imaginary infirmity, and Duncan too glad of the\ndelay to hazard the slightest interruption. As the dying cadence of\nhis strains was falling on the ears of the latter, he started aside\nat hearing them repeated behind him, in a voice half human and half\nsepulchral. Looking around, he beheld the shaggy monster seated on end\nin a shadow of the cavern, where, while his restless body swung in\nthe uneasy manner of the animal, it repeated, in a sort of low growl,\nsounds, if not words, which bore some slight resemblance to the melody\nof the singer.\n\nThe effect of so strange an echo on David may better be imagined than\ndescribed. His eyes opened as if he doubted their truth; and his voice\nbecame instantly mute in excess of wonder. A deep-laid scheme, of\ncommunicating some important intelligence to Heyward, was driven from\nhis recollection by an emotion which very nearly resembled fear, but\nwhich he was fain to believe was admiration. Under its influence, he\nexclaimed aloud: \"She expects you, and is at hand\"; and precipitately\nleft the cavern.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 25\n\n     \"Snug.--Have you the lion's part written? Pray you, if it\n     be, give it to me, for I am slow of study.\n\n     Quince.--You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but\n     roaring.\"\n     --Midsummer Night's Dream.\n\nThere was a strange blending of the ridiculous with that which was\nsolemn in this scene. The beast still continued its rolling, and\napparently untiring movements, though its ludicrous attempt to imitate\nthe melody of David ceased the instant the latter abandoned the field.\nThe words of Gamut were, as has been seen, in his native tongue; and\nto Duncan they seem pregnant with some hidden meaning, though nothing\npresent assisted him in discovering the object of their allusion. A\nspeedy end was, however, put to every conjecture on the subject, by the\nmanner of the chief, who advanced to the bedside of the invalid, and\nbeckoned away the whole group of female attendants that had clustered\nthere to witness the skill of the stranger. He was implicitly, though\nreluctantly, obeyed; and when the low echo which rang along the hollow,\nnatural gallery, from the distant closing door, had ceased, pointing\ntoward his insensible daughter, he said:\n\n\"Now let my brother show his power.\"\n\nThus unequivocally called on to exercise the functions of his assumed\ncharacter, Heyward was apprehensive that the smallest delay might prove\ndangerous. Endeavoring, then, to collect his ideas, he prepared to\nperform that species of incantation, and those uncouth rites, under\nwhich the Indian conjurers are accustomed to conceal their ignorance and\nimpotency. It is more than probable that, in the disordered state of his\nthoughts, he would soon have fallen into some suspicious, if not fatal,\nerror had not his incipient attempts been interrupted by a fierce growl\nfrom the quadruped. Three several times did he renew his efforts to\nproceed, and as often was he met by the same unaccountable opposition,\neach interruption seeming more savage and threatening than the\npreceding.\n\n\"The cunning ones are jealous,\" said the Huron; \"I go. Brother, the\nwoman is the wife of one of my bravest young men; deal justly by her.\nPeace!\" he added, beckoning to the discontented beast to be quiet; \"I\ngo.\"\n\nThe chief was as good as his word, and Duncan now found himself alone\nin that wild and desolate abode with the helpless invalid and the fierce\nand dangerous brute. The latter listened to the movements of the Indian\nwith that air of sagacity that a bear is known to possess, until another\necho announced that he had also left the cavern, when it turned and\ncame waddling up to Duncan before whom it seated itself in its natural\nattitude, erect like a man. The youth looked anxiously about him for\nsome weapon, with which he might make a resistance against the attack he\nnow seriously expected.\n\nIt seemed, however, as if the humor of the animal had suddenly changed.\nInstead of continuing its discontented growls, or manifesting any\nfurther signs of anger, the whole of its shaggy body shook violently, as\nif agitated by some strange internal convulsion. The huge and unwieldy\ntalons pawed stupidly about the grinning muzzle, and while Heyward kept\nhis eyes riveted on its movements with jealous watchfulness, the grim\nhead fell on one side and in its place appeared the honest sturdy\ncountenance of the scout, who was indulging from the bottom of his soul\nin his own peculiar expression of merriment.\n\n\"Hist!\" said the wary woodsman, interrupting Heyward's exclamation of\nsurprise; \"the varlets are about the place, and any sounds that are not\nnatural to witchcraft would bring them back upon us in a body.\"\n\n\"Tell me the meaning of this masquerade; and why you have attempted so\ndesperate an adventure?\"\n\n\"Ah, reason and calculation are often outdone by accident,\" returned the\nscout. \"But, as a story should always commence at the beginning, I will\ntell you the whole in order. After we parted I placed the commandant\nand the Sagamore in an old beaver lodge, where they are safer from\nthe Hurons than they would be in the garrison of Edward; for your\nhigh north-west Indians, not having as yet got the traders among them,\ncontinued to venerate the beaver. After which Uncas and I pushed for the\nother encampment as was agreed. Have you seen the lad?\"\n\n\"To my great grief! He is captive, and condemned to die at the rising of\nthe sun.\"\n\n\"I had misgivings that such would be his fate,\" resumed the scout, in\na less confident and joyous tone. But soon regaining his naturally firm\nvoice, he continued: \"His bad fortune is the true reason of my being\nhere, for it would never do to abandon such a boy to the Hurons. A rare\ntime the knaves would have of it, could they tie 'The Bounding Elk' and\n'The Long Carabine', as they call me, to the same stake! Though why they\nhave given me such a name I never knew, there being as little likeness\nbetween the gifts of 'killdeer' and the performance of one of your real\nCanada carabynes, as there is between the natur' of a pipe-stone and a\nflint.\"\n\n\"Keep to your tale,\" said the impatient Heyward; \"we know not at what\nmoment the Hurons may return.\"\n\n\"No fear of them. A conjurer must have his time, like a straggling\npriest in the settlements. We are as safe from interruption as a\nmissionary would be at the beginning of a two hours' discourse. Well,\nUncas and I fell in with a return party of the varlets; the lad was much\ntoo forward for a scout; nay, for that matter, being of hot blood, he\nwas not so much to blame; and, after all, one of the Hurons proved a\ncoward, and in fleeing led him into an ambushment.\"\n\n\"And dearly has he paid for the weakness.\"\n\nThe scout significantly passed his hand across his own throat, and\nnodded, as if he said, \"I comprehend your meaning.\" After which he\ncontinued, in a more audible though scarcely more intelligible language:\n\n\"After the loss of the boy I turned upon the Hurons, as you may judge.\nThere have been scrimmages atween one or two of their outlyers and\nmyself; but that is neither here nor there. So, after I had shot the\nimps, I got in pretty nigh to the lodges without further commotion. Then\nwhat should luck do in my favor but lead me to the very spot where one\nof the most famous conjurers of the tribe was dressing himself, as I\nwell knew, for some great battle with Satan--though why should I call\nthat luck, which it now seems was an especial ordering of Providence. So\na judgmatical rap over the head stiffened the lying impostor for a time,\nand leaving him a bit of walnut for his supper, to prevent an uproar,\nand stringing him up atween two saplings, I made free with his finery,\nand took the part of the bear on myself, in order that the operations\nmight proceed.\"\n\n\"And admirably did you enact the character; the animal itself might have\nbeen shamed by the representation.\"\n\n\"Lord, major,\" returned the flattered woodsman, \"I should be but a poor\nscholar for one who has studied so long in the wilderness, did I not\nknow how to set forth the movements or natur' of such a beast. Had\nit been now a catamount, or even a full-size panther, I would have\nembellished a performance for you worth regarding. But it is no such\nmarvelous feat to exhibit the feats of so dull a beast; though, for that\nmatter, too, a bear may be overacted. Yes, yes; it is not every imitator\nthat knows natur' may be outdone easier than she is equaled. But all our\nwork is yet before us. Where is the gentle one?\"\n\n\"Heaven knows. I have examined every lodge in the village, without\ndiscovering the slightest trace of her presence in the tribe.\"\n\n\"You heard what the singer said, as he left us: 'She is at hand, and\nexpects you'?\"\n\n\"I have been compelled to believe he alluded to this unhappy woman.\"\n\n\"The simpleton was frightened, and blundered through his message; but\nhe had a deeper meaning. Here are walls enough to separate the whole\nsettlement. A bear ought to climb; therefore will I take a look above\nthem. There may be honey-pots hid in these rocks, and I am a beast, you\nknow, that has a hankering for the sweets.\"\n\nThe scout looked behind him, laughing at his own conceit, while he\nclambered up the partition, imitating, as he went, the clumsy motions of\nthe beast he represented; but the instant the summit was gained he made\na gesture for silence, and slid down with the utmost precipitation.\n\n\"She is here,\" he whispered, \"and by that door you will find her. I\nwould have spoken a word of comfort to the afflicted soul; but the sight\nof such a monster might upset her reason. Though for that matter, major,\nyou are none of the most inviting yourself in your paint.\"\n\nDuncan, who had already swung eagerly forward, drew instantly back on\nhearing these discouraging words.\n\n\"Am I, then, so very revolting?\" he demanded, with an air of chagrin.\n\n\"You might not startle a wolf, or turn the Royal Americans from a\ndischarge; but I have seen the time when you had a better favored look;\nyour streaked countenances are not ill-judged of by the squaws, but\nyoung women of white blood give the preference to their own color. See,\"\nhe added, pointing to a place where the water trickled from a rock,\nforming a little crystal spring, before it found an issue through the\nadjacent crevices; \"you may easily get rid of the Sagamore's daub, and\nwhen you come back I will try my hand at a new embellishment. It's\nas common for a conjurer to alter his paint as for a buck in the\nsettlements to change his finery.\"\n\nThe deliberate woodsman had little occasion to hunt for arguments to\nenforce his advice. He was yet speaking when Duncan availed himself\nof the water. In a moment every frightful or offensive mark was\nobliterated, and the youth appeared again in the lineaments with which\nhe had been gifted by nature. Thus prepared for an interview with\nhis mistress, he took a hasty leave of his companion, and disappeared\nthrough the indicated passage. The scout witnessed his departure with\ncomplacency, nodding his head after him, and muttering his good wishes;\nafter which he very coolly set about an examination of the state of the\nlarder, among the Hurons, the cavern, among other purposes, being used\nas a receptacle for the fruits of their hunts.\n\nDuncan had no other guide than a distant glimmering light, which served,\nhowever, the office of a polar star to the lover. By its aid he was\nenabled to enter the haven of his hopes, which was merely another\napartment of the cavern, that had been solely appropriated to the\nsafekeeping of so important a prisoner as a daughter of the commandant\nof William Henry. It was profusely strewed with the plunder of that\nunlucky fortress. In the midst of this confusion he found her he sought,\npale, anxious and terrified, but lovely. David had prepared her for such\na visit.\n\n\"Duncan!\" she exclaimed, in a voice that seemed to tremble at the sounds\ncreated by itself.\n\n\"Alice!\" he answered, leaping carelessly among trunks, boxes, arms, and\nfurniture, until he stood at her side.\n\n\"I knew that you would never desert me,\" she said, looking up with\na momentary glow on her otherwise dejected countenance. \"But you are\nalone! Grateful as it is to be thus remembered, I could wish to think\nyou are not entirely alone.\"\n\nDuncan, observing that she trembled in a manner which betrayed her\ninability to stand, gently induced her to be seated, while he recounted\nthose leading incidents which it has been our task to accord. Alice\nlistened with breathless interest; and though the young man touched\nlightly on the sorrows of the stricken father; taking care, however, not\nto wound the self-love of his auditor, the tears ran as freely down the\ncheeks of the daughter as though she had never wept before. The soothing\ntenderness of Duncan, however, soon quieted the first burst of her\nemotions, and she then heard him to the close with undivided attention,\nif not with composure.\n\n\"And now, Alice,\" he added, \"you will see how much is still expected\nof you. By the assistance of our experienced and invaluable friend, the\nscout, we may find our way from this savage people, but you will have to\nexert your utmost fortitude. Remember that you fly to the arms of your\nvenerable parent, and how much his happiness, as well as your own,\ndepends on those exertions.\"\n\n\"Can I do otherwise for a father who has done so much for me?\"\n\n\"And for me, too,\" continued the youth, gently pressing the hand he held\nin both his own.\n\nThe look of innocence and surprise which he received in return convinced\nDuncan of the necessity of being more explicit.\n\n\"This is neither the place nor the occasion to detain you with selfish\nwishes,\" he added; \"but what heart loaded like mine would not wish to\ncast its burden? They say misery is the closest of all ties; our common\nsuffering in your behalf left but little to be explained between your\nfather and myself.\"\n\n\"And, dearest Cora, Duncan; surely Cora was not forgotten?\"\n\n\"Not forgotten! no; regretted, as woman was seldom mourned before. Your\nvenerable father knew no difference between his children; but I--Alice,\nyou will not be offended when I say, that to me her worth was in a\ndegree obscured--\"\n\n\"Then you knew not the merit of my sister,\" said Alice, withdrawing her\nhand; \"of you she ever speaks as of one who is her dearest friend.\"\n\n\"I would gladly believe her such,\" returned Duncan, hastily; \"I could\nwish her to be even more; but with you, Alice, I have the permission of\nyour father to aspire to a still nearer and dearer tie.\"\n\nAlice trembled violently, and there was an instant during which she bent\nher face aside, yielding to the emotions common to her sex; but they\nquickly passed away, leaving her mistress of her deportment, if not of\nher affections.\n\n\"Heyward,\" she said, looking him full in the face with a touching\nexpression of innocence and dependency, \"give me the sacred presence and\nthe holy sanction of that parent before you urge me further.\"\n\n\"Though more I should not, less I could not say,\" the youth was about to\nanswer, when he was interrupted by a light tap on his shoulder. Starting\nto his feet, he turned, and, confronting the intruder, his looks fell on\nthe dark form and malignant visage of Magua. The deep guttural laugh of\nthe savage sounded, at such a moment, to Duncan, like the hellish taunt\nof a demon. Had he pursued the sudden and fierce impulse of the instant,\nhe would have cast himself on the Huron, and committed their fortunes\nto the issue of a deadly struggle. But, without arms of any description,\nignorant of what succor his subtle enemy could command, and charged with\nthe safety of one who was just then dearer than ever to his heart, he no\nsooner entertained than he abandoned the desperate intention.\n\n\"What is your purpose?\" said Alice, meekly folding her arms on her\nbosom, and struggling to conceal an agony of apprehension in behalf of\nHeyward, in the usual cold and distant manner with which she received\nthe visits of her captor.\n\nThe exulting Indian had resumed his austere countenance, though he drew\nwarily back before the menacing glance of the young man's fiery eye. He\nregarded both his captives for a moment with a steady look, and then,\nstepping aside, he dropped a log of wood across a door different from\nthat by which Duncan had entered. The latter now comprehended the manner\nof his surprise, and, believing himself irretrievably lost, he drew\nAlice to his bosom, and stood prepared to meet a fate which he hardly\nregretted, since it was to be suffered in such company. But Magua\nmeditated no immediate violence. His first measures were very evidently\ntaken to secure his new captive; nor did he even bestow a second glance\nat the motionless forms in the center of the cavern, until he had\ncompletely cut off every hope of retreat through the private outlet he\nhad himself used. He was watched in all his movements by Heyward, who,\nhowever, remained firm, still folding the fragile form of Alice to his\nheart, at once too proud and too hopeless to ask favor of an enemy\nso often foiled. When Magua had effected his object he approached his\nprisoners, and said in English:\n\n\"The pale faces trap the cunning beavers; but the red-skins know how to\ntake the Yengeese.\"\n\n\"Huron, do your worst!\" exclaimed the excited Heyward, forgetful that a\ndouble stake was involved in his life; \"you and your vengeance are alike\ndespised.\"\n\n\"Will the white man speak these words at the stake?\" asked Magua;\nmanifesting, at the same time, how little faith he had in the other's\nresolution by the sneer that accompanied his words.\n\n\"Here; singly to your face, or in the presence of your nation.\"\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil is a great chief!\" returned the Indian; \"he will go\nand bring his young men, to see how bravely a pale face can laugh at\ntortures.\"\n\nHe turned away while speaking, and was about to leave the place through\nthe avenue by which Duncan had approached, when a growl caught his ear,\nand caused him to hesitate. The figure of the bear appeared in the door,\nwhere it sat, rolling from side to side in its customary restlessness.\nMagua, like the father of the sick woman, eyed it keenly for a moment,\nas if to ascertain its character. He was far above the more vulgar\nsuperstitions of his tribe, and so soon as he recognized the well-known\nattire of the conjurer, he prepared to pass it in cool contempt. But\na louder and more threatening growl caused him again to pause. Then he\nseemed as if suddenly resolved to trifle no longer, and moved resolutely\nforward.\n\nThe mimic animal, which had advanced a little, retired slowly in his\nfront, until it arrived again at the pass, when, rearing on his hinder\nlegs, it beat the air with its paws, in the manner practised by its\nbrutal prototype.\n\n\"Fool!\" exclaimed the chief, in Huron, \"go play with the children and\nsquaws; leave men to their wisdom.\"\n\nHe once more endeavored to pass the supposed empiric, scorning even the\nparade of threatening to use the knife, or tomahawk, that was pendent\nfrom his belt. Suddenly the beast extended its arms, or rather legs, and\ninclosed him in a grasp that might have vied with the far-famed power of\nthe \"bear's hug\" itself. Heyward had watched the whole procedure, on the\npart of Hawkeye, with breathless interest. At first he relinquished his\nhold of Alice; then he caught up a thong of buckskin, which had been\nused around some bundle, and when he beheld his enemy with his two arms\npinned to his side by the iron muscles of the scout, he rushed upon him,\nand effectually secured them there. Arms, legs, and feet were encircled\nin twenty folds of the thong, in less time than we have taken to record\nthe circumstance. When the formidable Huron was completely pinioned, the\nscout released his hold, and Duncan laid his enemy on his back, utterly\nhelpless.\n\nThroughout the whole of this sudden and extraordinary operation, Magua,\nthough he had struggled violently, until assured he was in the hands of\none whose nerves were far better strung than his own, had not uttered\nthe slightest exclamation. But when Hawkeye, by way of making a summary\nexplanation of his conduct, removed the shaggy jaws of the beast, and\nexposed his own rugged and earnest countenance to the gaze of the Huron,\nthe philosophy of the latter was so far mastered as to permit him to\nutter the never failing:\n\n\"Hugh!\"\n\n\"Ay, you've found your tongue,\" said his undisturbed conqueror; \"now,\nin order that you shall not use it to our ruin, I must make free to stop\nyour mouth.\"\n\nAs there was no time to be lost, the scout immediately set about\neffecting so necessary a precaution; and when he had gagged the Indian,\nhis enemy might safely have been considered as \"hors de combat.\"\n\n\"By what place did the imp enter?\" asked the industrious scout, when his\nwork was ended. \"Not a soul has passed my way since you left me.\"\n\nDuncan pointed out the door by which Magua had come, and which now\npresented too many obstacles to a quick retreat.\n\n\"Bring on the gentle one, then,\" continued his friend; \"we must make a\npush for the woods by the other outlet.\"\n\n\"'Tis impossible!\" said Duncan; \"fear has overcome her, and she is\nhelpless. Alice! my sweet, my own Alice, arouse yourself; now is the\nmoment to fly. 'Tis in vain! she hears, but is unable to follow. Go,\nnoble and worthy friend; save yourself, and leave me to my fate.\"\n\n\"Every trail has its end, and every calamity brings its lesson!\"\nreturned the scout. \"There, wrap her in them Indian cloths. Conceal all\nof her little form. Nay, that foot has no fellow in the wilderness; it\nwill betray her. All, every part. Now take her in your arms, and follow.\nLeave the rest to me.\"\n\nDuncan, as may be gathered from the words of his companion, was eagerly\nobeying; and, as the other finished speaking, he took the light person\nof Alice in his arms, and followed in the footsteps of the scout. They\nfound the sick woman as they had left her, still alone, and passed\nswiftly on, by the natural gallery, to the place of entrance. As they\napproached the little door of bark, a murmur of voices without announced\nthat the friends and relatives of the invalid were gathered about the\nplace, patiently awaiting a summons to re-enter.\n\n\"If I open my lips to speak,\" Hawkeye whispered, \"my English, which is\nthe genuine tongue of a white-skin, will tell the varlets that an enemy\nis among them. You must give 'em your jargon, major; and say that we\nhave shut the evil spirit in the cave, and are taking the woman to the\nwoods in order to find strengthening roots. Practise all your cunning,\nfor it is a lawful undertaking.\"\n\nThe door opened a little, as if one without was listening to the\nproceedings within, and compelled the scout to cease his directions. A\nfierce growl repelled the eavesdropper, and then the scout boldly threw\nopen the covering of bark, and left the place, enacting the character of\na bear as he proceeded. Duncan kept close at his heels, and soon found\nhimself in the center of a cluster of twenty anxious relatives and\nfriends.\n\nThe crowd fell back a little, and permitted the father, and one who\nappeared to be the husband of the woman, to approach.\n\n\"Has my brother driven away the evil spirit?\" demanded the former. \"What\nhas he in his arms?\"\n\n\"Thy child,\" returned Duncan, gravely; \"the disease has gone out of her;\nit is shut up in the rocks. I take the woman to a distance, where I will\nstrengthen her against any further attacks. She will be in the wigwam of\nthe young man when the sun comes again.\"\n\nWhen the father had translated the meaning of the stranger's words into\nthe Huron language, a suppressed murmur announced the satisfaction with\nwhich this intelligence was received. The chief himself waved his hand\nfor Duncan to proceed, saying aloud, in a firm voice, and with a lofty\nmanner:\n\n\"Go; I am a man, and I will enter the rock and fight the wicked one.\"\n\nHeyward had gladly obeyed, and was already past the little group, when\nthese startling words arrested him.\n\n\"Is my brother mad?\" he exclaimed; \"is he cruel? He will meet the\ndisease, and it will enter him; or he will drive out the disease, and\nit will chase his daughter into the woods. No; let my children wait\nwithout, and if the spirit appears beat him down with clubs. He is\ncunning, and will bury himself in the mountain, when he sees how many\nare ready to fight him.\"\n\nThis singular warning had the desired effect. Instead of entering\nthe cavern, the father and husband drew their tomahawks, and posted\nthemselves in readiness to deal their vengeance on the imaginary\ntormentor of their sick relative, while the women and children broke\nbranches from the bushes, or seized fragments of the rock, with a\nsimilar intention. At this favorable moment the counterfeit conjurers\ndisappeared.\n\nHawkeye, at the same time that he had presumed so far on the nature\nof the Indian superstitions, was not ignorant that they were rather\ntolerated than relied on by the wisest of the chiefs. He well knew the\nvalue of time in the present emergency. Whatever might be the extent of\nthe self-delusion of his enemies, and however it had tended to assist\nhis schemes, the slightest cause of suspicion, acting on the subtle\nnature of an Indian, would be likely to prove fatal. Taking the path,\ntherefore, that was most likely to avoid observation, he rather skirted\nthan entered the village. The warriors were still to be seen in the\ndistance, by the fading light of the fires, stalking from lodge to\nlodge. But the children had abandoned their sports for their beds of\nskins, and the quiet of night was already beginning to prevail over the\nturbulence and excitement of so busy and important an evening.\n\nAlice revived under the renovating influence of the open air, and,\nas her physical rather than her mental powers had been the subject of\nweakness, she stood in no need of any explanation of that which had\noccurred.\n\n\"Now let me make an effort to walk,\" she said, when they had entered the\nforest, blushing, though unseen, that she had not been sooner able to\nquit the arms of Duncan; \"I am indeed restored.\"\n\n\"Nay, Alice, you are yet too weak.\"\n\nThe maiden struggled gently to release herself, and Heyward was\ncompelled to part with his precious burden. The representative of the\nbear had certainly been an entire stranger to the delicious emotions of\nthe lover while his arms encircled his mistress; and he was, perhaps,\na stranger also to the nature of that feeling of ingenuous shame that\noppressed the trembling Alice. But when he found himself at a suitable\ndistance from the lodges he made a halt, and spoke on a subject of which\nhe was thoroughly the master.\n\n\"This path will lead you to the brook,\" he said; \"follow its northern\nbank until you come to a fall; mount the hill on your right, and you\nwill see the fires of the other people. There you must go and demand\nprotection; if they are true Delawares you will be safe. A distant\nflight with that gentle one, just now, is impossible. The Hurons would\nfollow up our trail, and master our scalps before we had got a dozen\nmiles. Go, and Providence be with you.\"\n\n\"And you!\" demanded Heyward, in surprise; \"surely we part not here?\"\n\n\"The Hurons hold the pride of the Delawares; the last of the high blood\nof the Mohicans is in their power,\" returned the scout; \"I go to see\nwhat can be done in his favor. Had they mastered your scalp, major, a\nknave should have fallen for every hair it held, as I promised; but if\nthe young Sagamore is to be led to the stake, the Indians shall see also\nhow a man without a cross can die.\"\n\nNot in the least offended with the decided preference that the sturdy\nwoodsman gave to one who might, in some degree, be called the child of\nhis adoption, Duncan still continued to urge such reasons against so\ndesperate an effort as presented themselves. He was aided by Alice, who\nmingled her entreaties with those of Heyward that he would abandon a\nresolution that promised so much danger, with so little hope of success.\nTheir eloquence and ingenuity were expended in vain. The scout heard\nthem attentively, but impatiently, and finally closed the discussion,\nby answering, in a tone that instantly silenced Alice, while it told\nHeyward how fruitless any further remonstrances would be.\n\n\"I have heard,\" he said, \"that there is a feeling in youth which binds\nman to woman closer than the father is tied to the son. It may be so.\nI have seldom been where women of my color dwell; but such may be the\ngifts of nature in the settlements. You have risked life, and all that\nis dear to you, to bring off this gentle one, and I suppose that some\nsuch disposition is at the bottom of it all. As for me, I taught the lad\nthe real character of a rifle; and well has he paid me for it. I have\nfou't at his side in many a bloody scrimmage; and so long as I could\nhear the crack of his piece in one ear, and that of the Sagamore in the\nother, I knew no enemy was on my back. Winters and summer, nights and\ndays, have we roved the wilderness in company, eating of the same dish,\none sleeping while the other watched; and afore it shall be said that\nUncas was taken to the torment, and I at hand--There is but a single\nRuler of us all, whatever may the color of the skin; and Him I call\nto witness, that before the Mohican boy shall perish for the want of\na friend, good faith shall depart the 'arth, and 'killdeer' become as\nharmless as the tooting we'pon of the singer!\"\n\nDuncan released his hold on the arm of the scout, who turned, and\nsteadily retraced his steps toward the lodges. After pausing a moment to\ngaze at his retiring form, the successful and yet sorrowful Heyward\nand Alice took their way together toward the distant village of the\nDelawares.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 26\n\n     \"Bot.--Let me play the lion too.\"\n     --Midsummer Night's Dream\n\nNotwithstanding the high resolution of Hawkeye he fully comprehended all\nthe difficulties and danger he was about to incur. In his return to\nthe camp, his acute and practised intellects were intently engaged in\ndevising means to counteract a watchfulness and suspicion on the part\nof his enemies, that he knew were, in no degree, inferior to his own.\nNothing but the color of his skin had saved the lives of Magua and the\nconjurer, who would have been the first victims sacrificed to his own\nsecurity, had not the scout believed such an act, however congenial it\nmight be to the nature of an Indian, utterly unworthy of one who boasted\na descent from men that knew no cross of blood. Accordingly, he trusted\nto the withes and ligaments with which he had bound his captives,\nand pursued his way directly toward the center of the lodges. As he\napproached the buildings, his steps become more deliberate, and his\nvigilant eye suffered no sign, whether friendly or hostile, to escape\nhim. A neglected hut was a little in advance of the others, and appeared\nas if it had been deserted when half completed--most probably on account\nof failing in some of the more important requisites; such as wood\nor water. A faint light glimmered through its cracks, however, and\nannounced that, notwithstanding its imperfect structure, it was not\nwithout a tenant. Thither, then, the scout proceeded, like a prudent\ngeneral, who was about to feel the advanced positions of his enemy,\nbefore he hazarded the main attack.\n\nThrowing himself into a suitable posture for the beast he represented,\nHawkeye crawled to a little opening, where he might command a view of\nthe interior. It proved to be the abiding place of David Gamut. Hither\nthe faithful singing-master had now brought himself, together with\nall his sorrows, his apprehensions, and his meek dependence on the\nprotection of Providence. At the precise moment when his ungainly person\ncame under the observation of the scout, in the manner just mentioned,\nthe woodsman himself, though in his assumed character, was the subject\nof the solitary being's profounded reflections.\n\nHowever implicit the faith of David was in the performance of ancient\nmiracles, he eschewed the belief of any direct supernatural agency in\nthe management of modern morality. In other words, while he had implicit\nfaith in the ability of Balaam's ass to speak, he was somewhat skeptical\non the subject of a bear's singing; and yet he had been assured of\nthe latter, on the testimony of his own exquisite organs. There was\nsomething in his air and manner that betrayed to the scout the utter\nconfusion of the state of his mind. He was seated on a pile of brush,\na few twigs from which occasionally fed his low fire, with his head\nleaning on his arm, in a posture of melancholy musing. The costume\nof the votary of music had undergone no other alteration from that so\nlately described, except that he had covered his bald head with the\ntriangular beaver, which had not proved sufficiently alluring to excite\nthe cupidity of any of his captors.\n\nThe ingenious Hawkeye, who recalled the hasty manner in which the other\nhad abandoned his post at the bedside of the sick woman, was not without\nhis suspicions concerning the subject of so much solemn deliberation.\nFirst making the circuit of the hut, and ascertaining that it stood\nquite alone, and that the character of its inmate was likely to protect\nit from visitors, he ventured through its low door, into the very\npresence of Gamut. The position of the latter brought the fire between\nthem; and when Hawkeye had seated himself on end, near a minute elapsed,\nduring which the two remained regarding each other without speaking.\nThe suddenness and the nature of the surprise had nearly proved too much\nfor--we will not say the philosophy--but for the pitch and resolution\nof David. He fumbled for his pitch-pipe, and arose with a confused\nintention of attempting a musical exorcism.\n\n\"Dark and mysterious monster!\" he exclaimed, while with trembling hands\nhe disposed of his auxiliary eyes, and sought his never-failing resource\nin trouble, the gifted version of the psalms; \"I know not your nature\nnor intents; but if aught you meditate against the person and rights\nof one of the humblest servants of the temple, listen to the inspired\nlanguage of the youth of Israel, and repent.\"\n\nThe bear shook his shaggy sides, and then a well-known voice replied:\n\n\"Put up the tooting we'pon, and teach your throat modesty. Five words\nof plain and comprehendible English are worth just now an hour of\nsqualling.\"\n\n\"What art thou?\" demanded David, utterly disqualified to pursue his\noriginal intention, and nearly gasping for breath.\n\n\"A man like yourself; and one whose blood is as little tainted by the\ncross of a bear, or an Indian, as your own. Have you so soon forgotten\nfrom whom you received the foolish instrument you hold in your hand?\"\n\n\"Can these things be?\" returned David, breathing more freely, as the\ntruth began to dawn upon him. \"I have found many marvels during my\nsojourn with the heathen, but surely nothing to excel this.\"\n\n\"Come, come,\" returned Hawkeye, uncasing his honest countenance, the\nbetter to assure the wavering confidence of his companion; \"you may see\na skin, which, if it be not as white as one of the gentle ones, has no\ntinge of red to it that the winds of the heaven and the sun have not\nbestowed. Now let us to business.\"\n\n\"First tell me of the maiden, and of the youth who so bravely sought\nher,\" interrupted David.\n\n\"Ay, they are happily freed from the tomahawks of these varlets. But can\nyou put me on the scent of Uncas?\"\n\n\"The young man is in bondage, and much I fear his death is decreed. I\ngreatly mourn that one so well disposed should die in his ignorance, and\nI have sought a goodly hymn--\"\n\n\"Can you lead me to him?\"\n\n\"The task will not be difficult,\" returned David, hesitating; \"though\nI greatly fear your presence would rather increase than mitigate his\nunhappy fortunes.\"\n\n\"No more words, but lead on,\" returned Hawkeye, concealing his face\nagain, and setting the example in his own person, by instantly quitting\nthe lodge.\n\nAs they proceeded, the scout ascertained that his companion found access\nto Uncas, under privilege of his imaginary infirmity, aided by the favor\nhe had acquired with one of the guards, who, in consequence of speaking\na little English, had been selected by David as the subject of a\nreligious conversion. How far the Huron comprehended the intentions of\nhis new friend may well be doubted; but as exclusive attention is\nas flattering to a savage as to a more civilized individual, it had\nproduced the effect we have mentioned. It is unnecessary to repeat the\nshrewd manner with which the scout extracted these particulars from the\nsimple David; neither shall we dwell in this place on the nature of the\ninstruction he delivered, when completely master of all the necessary\nfacts; as the whole will be sufficiently explained to the reader in the\ncourse of the narrative.\n\nThe lodge in which Uncas was confined was in the very center of the\nvillage, and in a situation, perhaps, more difficult than any other to\napproach, or leave, without observation. But it was not the policy of\nHawkeye to affect the least concealment. Presuming on his disguise, and\nhis ability to sustain the character he had assumed, he took the most\nplain and direct route to the place. The hour, however, afforded him\nsome little of that protection which he appeared so much to despise. The\nboys were already buried in sleep, and all the women, and most of the\nwarriors, had retired to their lodges for the night. Four or five of\nthe latter only lingered about the door of the prison of Uncas, wary but\nclose observers of the manner of their captive.\n\nAt the sight of Gamut, accompanied by one in the well-known masquerade\nof their most distinguished conjurer, they readily made way for them\nboth. Still they betrayed no intention to depart. On the other hand,\nthey were evidently disposed to remain bound to the place by an\nadditional interest in the mysterious mummeries that they of course\nexpected from such a visit.\n\nFrom the total inability of the scout to address the Hurons in their own\nlanguage, he was compelled to trust the conversation entirely to David.\nNotwithstanding the simplicity of the latter, he did ample justice to\nthe instructions he had received, more than fulfilling the strongest\nhopes of his teacher.\n\n\"The Delawares are women!\" he exclaimed, addressing himself to the\nsavage who had a slight understanding of the language in which he spoke;\n\"the Yengeese, my foolish countrymen, have told them to take up the\ntomahawk, and strike their fathers in the Canadas, and they have\nforgotten their sex. Does my brother wish to hear 'Le Cerf Agile' ask\nfor his petticoats, and see him weep before the Hurons, at the stake?\"\n\nThe exclamation \"Hugh!\" delivered in a strong tone of assent, announced\nthe gratification the savage would receive in witnessing such an\nexhibition of weakness in an enemy so long hated and so much feared.\n\n\"Then let him step aside, and the cunning man will blow upon the dog.\nTell it to my brothers.\"\n\nThe Huron explained the meaning of David to his fellows, who, in their\nturn, listened to the project with that sort of satisfaction that\ntheir untamed spirits might be expected to find in such a refinement in\ncruelty. They drew back a little from the entrance and motioned to the\nsupposed conjurer to enter. But the bear, instead of obeying, maintained\nthe seat it had taken, and growled:\n\n\"The cunning man is afraid that his breath will blow upon his brothers,\nand take away their courage too,\" continued David, improving the hint he\nreceived; \"they must stand further off.\"\n\nThe Hurons, who would have deemed such a misfortune the heaviest\ncalamity that could befall them, fell back in a body, taking a position\nwhere they were out of earshot, though at the same time they could\ncommand a view of the entrance to the lodge. Then, as if satisfied of\ntheir safety, the scout left his position, and slowly entered the place.\nIt was silent and gloomy, being tenanted solely by the captive, and\nlighted by the dying embers of a fire, which had been used for the\npurposed of cookery.\n\nUncas occupied a distant corner, in a reclining attitude, being rigidly\nbound, both hands and feet, by strong and painful withes. When the\nfrightful object first presented itself to the young Mohican, he did not\ndeign to bestow a single glance on the animal. The scout, who had left\nDavid at the door, to ascertain they were not observed, thought it\nprudent to preserve his disguise until assured of their privacy. Instead\nof speaking, therefore, he exerted himself to enact one of the antics of\nthe animal he represented. The young Mohican, who at first believed his\nenemies had sent in a real beast to torment him, and try his nerves,\ndetected in those performances that to Heyward had appeared so accurate,\ncertain blemishes, that at once betrayed the counterfeit. Had Hawkeye\nbeen aware of the low estimation in which the skillful Uncas held his\nrepresentations, he would probably have prolonged the entertainment\na little in pique. But the scornful expression of the young man's eye\nadmitted of so many constructions, that the worthy scout was spared the\nmortification of such a discovery. As soon, therefore, as David gave the\npreconcerted signal, a low hissing sound was heard in the lodge in place\nof the fierce growlings of the bear.\n\nUncas had cast his body back against the wall of the hut and closed\nhis eyes, as if willing to exclude so contemptible and disagreeable\nan object from his sight. But the moment the noise of the serpent was\nheard, he arose, and cast his looks on each side of him, bending his\nhead low, and turning it inquiringly in every direction, until his keen\neye rested on the shaggy monster, where it remained riveted, as though\nfixed by the power of a charm. Again the same sounds were repeated,\nevidently proceeding from the mouth of the beast. Once more the eyes of\nthe youth roamed over the interior of the lodge, and returning to the\nformer resting place, he uttered, in a deep, suppressed voice:\n\n\"Hawkeye!\"\n\n\"Cut his bands,\" said Hawkeye to David, who just then approached them.\n\nThe singer did as he was ordered, and Uncas found his limbs released. At\nthe same moment the dried skin of the animal rattled, and presently\nthe scout arose to his feet, in proper person. The Mohican appeared to\ncomprehend the nature of the attempt his friend had made, intuitively,\nneither tongue nor feature betraying another symptom of surprise. When\nHawkeye had cast his shaggy vestment, which was done by simply loosing\ncertain thongs of skin, he drew a long, glittering knife, and put it in\nthe hands of Uncas.\n\n\"The red Hurons are without,\" he said; \"let us be ready.\" At the same\ntime he laid his finger significantly on another similar weapon, both\nbeing the fruits of his prowess among their enemies during the evening.\n\n\"We will go,\" said Uncas.\n\n\"Whither?\"\n\n\"To the Tortoises; they are the children of my grandfathers.\"\n\n\"Ay, lad,\" said the scout in English--a language he was apt to use\nwhen a little abstracted in mind; \"the same blood runs in your veins,\nI believe; but time and distance has a little changed its color. What\nshall we do with the Mingoes at the door? They count six, and this\nsinger is as good as nothing.\"\n\n\"The Hurons are boasters,\" said Uncas, scornfully; \"their 'totem' is\na moose, and they run like snails. The Delawares are children of the\ntortoise, and they outstrip the deer.\"\n\n\"Ay, lad, there is truth in what you say; and I doubt not, on a rush,\nyou would pass the whole nation; and, in a straight race of two miles,\nwould be in, and get your breath again, afore a knave of them all was\nwithin hearing of the other village. But the gift of a white man lies\nmore in his arms than in his legs. As for myself, I can brain a Huron as\nwell as a better man; but when it comes to a race the knaves would prove\ntoo much for me.\"\n\nUncas, who had already approached the door, in readiness to lead the\nway, now recoiled, and placed himself, once more, in the bottom of the\nlodge. But Hawkeye, who was too much occupied with his own thoughts\nto note the movement, continued speaking more to himself than to his\ncompanion.\n\n\"After all,\" he said, \"it is unreasonable to keep one man in bondage to\nthe gifts of another. So, Uncas, you had better take the lead, while I\nwill put on the skin again, and trust to cunning for want of speed.\"\n\nThe young Mohican made no reply, but quietly folded his arms, and leaned\nhis body against one of the upright posts that supported the wall of the\nhut.\n\n\"Well,\" said the scout looking up at him, \"why do you tarry? There will\nbe time enough for me, as the knaves will give chase to you at first.\"\n\n\"Uncas will stay,\" was the calm reply.\n\n\"For what?\"\n\n\"To fight with his father's brother, and die with the friend of the\nDelawares.\"\n\n\"Ay, lad,\" returned Hawkeye, squeezing the hand of Uncas between his own\niron fingers; \"'twould have been more like a Mingo than a Mohican had\nyou left me. But I thought I would make the offer, seeing that youth\ncommonly loves life. Well, what can't be done by main courage, in war,\nmust be done by circumvention. Put on the skin; I doubt not you can play\nthe bear nearly as well as myself.\"\n\nWhatever might have been the private opinion of Uncas of their\nrespective abilities in this particular, his grave countenance\nmanifested no opinion of his superiority. He silently and expeditiously\nencased himself in the covering of the beast, and then awaited such\nother movements as his more aged companion saw fit to dictate.\n\n\"Now, friend,\" said Hawkeye, addressing David, \"an exchange of garments\nwill be a great convenience to you, inasmuch as you are but little\naccustomed to the make-shifts of the wilderness. Here, take my hunting\nshirt and cap, and give me your blanket and hat. You must trust me with\nthe book and spectacles, as well as the tooter, too; if we ever meet\nagain, in better times, you shall have all back again, with many thanks\ninto the bargain.\"\n\nDavid parted with the several articles named with a readiness that would\nhave done great credit to his liberality, had he not certainly profited,\nin many particulars, by the exchange. Hawkeye was not long in assuming\nhis borrowed garments; and when his restless eyes were hid behind the\nglasses, and his head was surmounted by the triangular beaver, as their\nstatures were not dissimilar, he might readily have passed for the\nsinger, by starlight. As soon as these dispositions were made, the scout\nturned to David, and gave him his parting instructions.\n\n\"Are you much given to cowardice?\" he bluntly asked, by way of obtaining\na suitable understanding of the whole case before he ventured a\nprescription.\n\n\"My pursuits are peaceful, and my temper, I humbly trust, is greatly\ngiven to mercy and love,\" returned David, a little nettled at so direct\nan attack on his manhood; \"but there are none who can say that I have\never forgotten my faith in the Lord, even in the greatest straits.\"\n\n\"Your chiefest danger will be at the moment when the savages find out\nthat they have been deceived. If you are not then knocked on the head,\nyour being a non-composser will protect you; and you'll then have a good\nreason to expect to die in your bed. If you stay, it must be to sit down\nhere in the shadow, and take the part of Uncas, until such times as the\ncunning of the Indians discover the cheat, when, as I have already said,\nyour times of trial will come. So choose for yourself--to make a rush or\ntarry here.\"\n\n\"Even so,\" said David, firmly; \"I will abide in the place of the\nDelaware. Bravely and generously has he battled in my behalf, and this,\nand more, will I dare in his service.\"\n\n\"You have spoken as a man, and like one who, under wiser schooling,\nwould have been brought to better things. Hold your head down, and\ndraw in your legs; their formation might tell the truth too early. Keep\nsilent as long as may be; and it would be wise, when you do speak, to\nbreak out suddenly in one of your shoutings, which will serve to remind\nthe Indians that you are not altogether as responsible as men should be.\nIf however, they take your scalp, as I trust and believe they will not,\ndepend on it, Uncas and I will not forget the deed, but revenge it as\nbecomes true warriors and trusty friends.\"\n\n\"Hold!\" said David, perceiving that with this assurance they were about\nto leave him; \"I am an unworthy and humble follower of one who taught\nnot the damnable principle of revenge. Should I fall, therefore, seek\nno victims to my manes, but rather forgive my destroyers; and if you\nremember them at all, let it be in prayers for the enlightening of their\nminds, and for their eternal welfare.\"\n\nThe scout hesitated, and appeared to muse.\n\n\"There is a principle in that,\" he said, \"different from the law of the\nwoods; and yet it is fair and noble to reflect upon.\" Then heaving\na heavy sigh, probably among the last he ever drew in pining for a\ncondition he had so long abandoned, he added: \"it is what I would wish\nto practise myself, as one without a cross of blood, though it is not\nalways easy to deal with an Indian as you would with a fellow Christian.\nGod bless you, friend; I do believe your scent is not greatly wrong,\nwhen the matter is duly considered, and keeping eternity before the\neyes, though much depends on the natural gifts, and the force of\ntemptation.\"\n\nSo saying, the scout returned and shook David cordially by the hand;\nafter which act of friendship he immediately left the lodge, attended by\nthe new representative of the beast.\n\nThe instant Hawkeye found himself under the observation of the Hurons,\nhe drew up his tall form in the rigid manner of David, threw out his\narm in the act of keeping time, and commenced what he intended for an\nimitation of his psalmody. Happily for the success of this delicate\nadventure, he had to deal with ears but little practised in the concord\nof sweet sounds, or the miserable effort would infallibly have been\ndetected. It was necessary to pass within a dangerous proximity of the\ndark group of the savages, and the voice of the scout grew louder as\nthey drew nigher. When at the nearest point the Huron who spoke the\nEnglish thrust out an arm, and stopped the supposed singing-master.\n\n\"The Delaware dog!\" he said, leaning forward, and peering through\nthe dim light to catch the expression of the other's features; \"is he\nafraid? Will the Hurons hear his groans?\"\n\nA growl, so exceedingly fierce and natural, proceeded from the beast,\nthat the young Indian released his hold and started aside, as if to\nassure himself that it was not a veritable bear, and no counterfeit,\nthat was rolling before him. Hawkeye, who feared his voice would betray\nhim to his subtle enemies, gladly profited by the interruption, to break\nout anew in such a burst of musical expression as would, probably, in\na more refined state of society have been termed \"a grand crash.\" Among\nhis actual auditors, however, it merely gave him an additional claim to\nthat respect which they never withhold from such as are believed to be\nthe subjects of mental alienation. The little knot of Indians drew back\nin a body, and suffered, as they thought, the conjurer and his inspired\nassistant to proceed.\n\nIt required no common exercise of fortitude in Uncas and the scout to\ncontinue the dignified and deliberate pace they had assumed in passing\nthe lodge; especially as they immediately perceived that curiosity had\nso far mastered fear, as to induce the watchers to approach the hut, in\norder to witness the effect of the incantations. The least injudicious\nor impatient movement on the part of David might betray them, and time\nwas absolutely necessary to insure the safety of the scout. The loud\nnoise the latter conceived it politic to continue, drew many curious\ngazers to the doors of the different huts as thy passed; and once or\ntwice a dark-looking warrior stepped across their path, led to the act\nby superstition and watchfulness. They were not, however, interrupted,\nthe darkness of the hour, and the boldness of the attempt, proving their\nprincipal friends.\n\nThe adventurers had got clear of the village, and were now swiftly\napproaching the shelter of the woods, when a loud and long cry arose\nfrom the lodge where Uncas had been confined. The Mohican started on\nhis feet, and shook his shaggy covering, as though the animal he\ncounterfeited was about to make some desperate effort.\n\n\"Hold!\" said the scout, grasping his friend by the shoulder, \"let them\nyell again! 'Twas nothing but wonderment.\"\n\nHe had no occasion to delay, for at the next instant a burst of cries\nfilled the outer air, and ran along the whole extent of the village.\nUncas cast his skin, and stepped forth in his own beautiful proportions.\nHawkeye tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and glided ahead.\n\n\"Now let the devils strike our scent!\" said the scout, tearing two\nrifles, with all their attendant accouterments, from beneath a bush, and\nflourishing \"killdeer\" as he handed Uncas his weapon; \"two, at least,\nwill find it to their deaths.\"\n\nThen, throwing their pieces to a low trail, like sportsmen in readiness\nfor their game, they dashed forward, and were soon buried in the somber\ndarkness of the forest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 27\n\n     \"Ant. I shall remember: When C'sar says\n     Do this, it is performed.\"\n     --Julius Caesar\n\nThe impatience of the savages who lingered about the prison of Uncas, as\nhas been seen, had overcome their dread of the conjurer's breath. They\nstole cautiously, and with beating hearts, to a crevice, through which\nthe faint light of the fire was glimmering. For several minutes they\nmistook the form of David for that of the prisoner; but the very\naccident which Hawkeye had foreseen occurred. Tired of keeping the\nextremities of his long person so near together, the singer gradually\nsuffered the lower limbs to extend themselves, until one of his\nmisshapen feet actually came in contact with and shoved aside the embers\nof the fire. At first the Hurons believed the Delaware had been thus\ndeformed by witchcraft. But when David, unconscious of being observed,\nturned his head, and exposed his simple, mild countenance, in place of\nthe haughty lineaments of their prisoner, it would have exceeded the\ncredulity of even a native to have doubted any longer. They rushed\ntogether into the lodge, and, laying their hands, with but little\nceremony, on their captive, immediately detected the imposition. Then\narose the cry first heard by the fugitives. It was succeeded by the most\nfrantic and angry demonstrations of vengeance. David, however, firm in\nhis determination to cover the retreat of his friends, was compelled to\nbelieve that his own final hour had come. Deprived of his book and his\npipe, he was fain to trust to a memory that rarely failed him on such\nsubjects; and breaking forth in a loud and impassioned strain, he\nendeavored to smooth his passage into the other world by singing the\nopening verse of a funeral anthem. The Indians were seasonably reminded\nof his infirmity, and, rushing into the open air, they aroused the\nvillage in the manner described.\n\nA native warrior fights as he sleeps, without the protection of anything\ndefensive. The sounds of the alarm were, therefore, hardly uttered\nbefore two hundred men were afoot, and ready for the battle or the\nchase, as either might be required. The escape was soon known; and the\nwhole tribe crowded, in a body, around the council-lodge, impatiently\nawaiting the instruction of their chiefs. In such a sudden demand on\ntheir wisdom, the presence of the cunning Magua could scarcely fail of\nbeing needed. His name was mentioned, and all looked round in wonder\nthat he did not appear. Messengers were then despatched to his lodge\nrequiring his presence.\n\nIn the meantime, some of the swiftest and most discreet of the young\nmen were ordered to make the circuit of the clearing, under cover of\nthe woods, in order to ascertain that their suspected neighbors, the\nDelawares, designed no mischief. Women and children ran to and fro;\nand, in short, the whole encampment exhibited another scene of wild\nand savage confusion. Gradually, however, these symptoms of disorder\ndiminished; and in a few minutes the oldest and most distinguished\nchiefs were assembled in the lodge, in grave consultation.\n\nThe clamor of many voices soon announced that a party approached, who\nmight be expected to communicate some intelligence that would explain\nthe mystery of the novel surprise. The crowd without gave way, and\nseveral warriors entered the place, bringing with them the hapless\nconjurer, who had been left so long by the scout in duress.\n\nNotwithstanding this man was held in very unequal estimation among the\nHurons, some believing implicitly in his power, and others deeming him\nan impostor, he was now listened to by all with the deepest attention.\nWhen his brief story was ended, the father of the sick woman stepped\nforth, and, in a few pithy expression, related, in his turn, what he\nknew. These two narratives gave a proper direction to the subsequent\ninquiries, which were now made with the characteristic cunning of\nsavages.\n\nInstead of rushing in a confused and disorderly throng to the cavern,\nten of the wisest and firmest among the chiefs were selected to\nprosecute the investigation. As no time was to be lost, the instant the\nchoice was made the individuals appointed rose in a body and left the\nplace without speaking. On reaching the entrance, the younger men in\nadvance made way for their seniors; and the whole proceeded along\nthe low, dark gallery, with the firmness of warriors ready to devote\nthemselves to the public good, though, at the same time, secretly\ndoubting the nature of the power with which they were about to contend.\n\nThe outer apartment of the cavern was silent and gloomy. The woman lay\nin her usual place and posture, though there were those present who\naffirmed they had seen her borne to the woods by the supposed \"medicine\nof the white men.\" Such a direct and palpable contradiction of the tale\nrelated by the father caused all eyes to be turned on him. Chafed by\nthe silent imputation, and inwardly troubled by so unaccountable a\ncircumstance, the chief advanced to the side of the bed, and, stooping,\ncast an incredulous look at the features, as if distrusting their\nreality. His daughter was dead.\n\nThe unerring feeling of nature for a moment prevailed and the old\nwarrior hid his eyes in sorrow. Then, recovering his self-possession, he\nfaced his companions, and, pointing toward the corpse, he said, in the\nlanguage of his people:\n\n\"The wife of my young man has left us! The Great Spirit is angry with\nhis children.\"\n\nThe mournful intelligence was received in solemn silence. After a short\npause, one of the elder Indians was about to speak, when a dark-looking\nobject was seen rolling out of an adjoining apartment, into the very\ncenter of the room where they stood. Ignorant of the nature of the\nbeings they had to deal with, the whole party drew back a little, and,\nrising on end, exhibited the distorted but still fierce and sullen\nfeatures of Magua. The discovery was succeeded by a general exclamation\nof amazement.\n\nAs soon, however, as the true situation of the chief was understood,\nseveral knives appeared, and his limbs and tongue were quickly released.\nThe Huron arose, and shook himself like a lion quitting his lair. Not a\nword escaped him, though his hand played convulsively with the handle of\nhis knife, while his lowering eyes scanned the whole party, as if they\nsought an object suited to the first burst of his vengeance.\n\nIt was happy for Uncas and the scout, and even David, that they were\nall beyond the reach of his arm at such a moment; for, assuredly,\nno refinement in cruelty would then have deferred their deaths, in\nopposition to the promptings of the fierce temper that nearly choked\nhim. Meeting everywhere faces that he knew as friends, the savage grated\nhis teeth together like rasps of iron, and swallowed his passion for\nwant of a victim on whom to vent it. This exhibition of anger was noted\nby all present; and from an apprehension of exasperating a temper that\nwas already chafed nearly to madness, several minutes were suffered to\npass before another word was uttered. When, however, suitable time had\nelapsed, the oldest of the party spoke.\n\n\"My friend has found an enemy,\" he said. \"Is he nigh that the Hurons\nmight take revenge?\"\n\n\"Let the Delaware die!\" exclaimed Magua, in a voice of thunder.\n\nAnother longer and expressive silence was observed, and was broken, as\nbefore, with due precaution, by the same individual.\n\n\"The Mohican is swift of foot, and leaps far,\" he said; \"but my young\nmen are on his trail.\"\n\n\"Is he gone?\" demanded Magua, in tones so deep and guttural, that they\nseemed to proceed from his inmost chest.\n\n\"An evil spirit has been among us, and the Delaware has blinded our\neyes.\"\n\n\"An evil spirit!\" repeated the other, mockingly; \"'tis the spirit that\nhas taken the lives of so many Hurons; the spirit that slew my young men\nat 'the tumbling river'; that took their scalps at the 'healing spring';\nand who has, now, bound the arms of Le Renard Subtil!\"\n\n\"Of whom does my friend speak?\"\n\n\"Of the dog who carries the heart and cunning of a Huron under a pale\nskin--La Longue Carabine.\"\n\nThe pronunciation of so terrible a name produced the usual effect among\nhis auditors. But when time was given for reflection, and the warriors\nremembered that their formidable and daring enemy had even been in the\nbosom of their encampment, working injury, fearful rage took the place\nof wonder, and all those fierce passions with which the bosom of Magua\nhad just been struggling were suddenly transferred to his companions.\nSome among them gnashed their teeth in anger, others vented their\nfeelings in yells, and some, again, beat the air as frantically as if\nthe object of their resentment were suffering under their blows. But\nthis sudden outbreaking of temper as quickly subsided in the still and\nsullen restraint they most affected in their moments of inaction.\n\nMagua, who had in his turn found leisure for reflection, now changed his\nmanner, and assumed the air of one who knew how to think and act with a\ndignity worthy of so grave a subject.\n\n\"Let us go to my people,\" he said; \"they wait for us.\"\n\nHis companions consented in silence, and the whole of the savage party\nleft the cavern and returned to the council-lodge. When they were\nseated, all eyes turned on Magua, who understood, from such an\nindication, that, by common consent, they had devolved the duty of\nrelating what had passed on him. He arose, and told his tale without\nduplicity or reservation. The whole deception practised by both Duncan\nand Hawkeye was, of course, laid naked, and no room was found, even for\nthe most superstitious of the tribe, any longer to affix a doubt on the\ncharacter of the occurrences. It was but too apparent that they had been\ninsultingly, shamefully, disgracefully deceived. When he had ended, and\nresumed his seat, the collected tribe--for his auditors, in substance,\nincluded all the fighting men of the party--sat regarding each other\nlike men astonished equally at the audacity and the success of\ntheir enemies. The next consideration, however, was the means and\nopportunities for revenge.\n\nAdditional pursuers were sent on the trail of the fugitives; and\nthen the chiefs applied themselves, in earnest, to the business of\nconsultation. Many different expedients were proposed by the elder\nwarriors, in succession, to all of which Magua was a silent and\nrespectful listener. That subtle savage had recovered his artifice and\nself-command, and now proceeded toward his object with his customary\ncaution and skill. It was only when each one disposed to speak had\nuttered his sentiments, that he prepared to advance his own opinions.\nThey were given with additional weight from the circumstance that some\nof the runners had already returned, and reported that their enemies had\nbeen traced so far as to leave no doubt of their having sought safety in\nthe neighboring camp of their suspected allies, the Delawares. With the\nadvantage of possessing this important intelligence, the chief warily\nlaid his plans before his fellows, and, as might have been anticipated\nfrom his eloquence and cunning, they were adopted without a dissenting\nvoice. They were, briefly, as follows, both in opinions and in motives.\n\nIt has been already stated that, in obedience to a policy rarely\ndeparted from, the sisters were separated so soon as they reached the\nHuron village. Magua had early discovered that in retaining the person\nof Alice, he possessed the most effectual check on Cora. When they\nparted, therefore, he kept the former within reach of his hand,\nconsigning the one he most valued to the keeping of their allies. The\narrangement was understood to be merely temporary, and was made as much\nwith a view to flatter his neighbors as in obedience to the invariable\nrule of Indian policy.\n\nWhile goaded incessantly by these revengeful impulses that in a savage\nseldom slumber, the chief was still attentive to his more permanent\npersonal interests. The follies and disloyalty committed in his youth\nwere to be expiated by a long and painful penance, ere he could be\nrestored to the full enjoyment of the confidence of his ancient people;\nand without confidence there could be no authority in an Indian tribe.\nIn this delicate and arduous situation, the crafty native had neglected\nno means of increasing his influence; and one of the happiest of his\nexpedients had been the success with which he had cultivated the favor\nof their powerful and dangerous neighbors. The result of his experiment\nhad answered all the expectations of his policy; for the Hurons were in\nno degree exempt from that governing principle of nature, which induces\nman to value his gifts precisely in the degree that they are appreciated\nby others.\n\nBut, while he was making this ostensible sacrifice to general\nconsiderations, Magua never lost sight of his individual motives. The\nlatter had been frustrated by the unlooked-for events which had placed\nall his prisoners beyond his control; and he now found himself reduced\nto the necessity of suing for favors to those whom it had so lately been\nhis policy to oblige.\n\nSeveral of the chiefs had proposed deep and treacherous schemes to\nsurprise the Delawares and, by gaining possession of their camp, to\nrecover their prisoners by the same blow; for all agreed that their\nhonor, their interests, and the peace and happiness of their dead\ncountrymen, imperiously required them speedily to immolate some victims\nto their revenge. But plans so dangerous to attempt, and of such\ndoubtful issue, Magua found little difficulty in defeating. He exposed\ntheir risk and fallacy with his usual skill; and it was only after he\nhad removed every impediment, in the shape of opposing advice, that he\nventured to propose his own projects.\n\nHe commenced by flattering the self-love of his auditors; a\nnever-failing method of commanding attention. When he had enumerated the\nmany different occasions on which the Hurons had exhibited their courage\nand prowess, in the punishment of insults, he digressed in a high\nencomium on the virtue of wisdom. He painted the quality as forming the\ngreat point of difference between the beaver and other brutes; between\nthe brutes and men; and, finally, between the Hurons, in particular,\nand the rest of the human race. After he had sufficiently extolled the\nproperty of discretion, he undertook to exhibit in what manner its use\nwas applicable to the present situation of their tribe. On the one hand,\nhe said, was their great pale father, the governor of the Canadas, who\nhad looked upon his children with a hard eye since their tomahawks had\nbeen so red; on the other, a people as numerous as themselves, who spoke\na different language, possessed different interests, and loved them not,\nand who would be glad of any pretense to bring them in disgrace with the\ngreat white chief. Then he spoke of their necessities; of the gifts they\nhad a right to expect for their past services; of their distance from\ntheir proper hunting-grounds and native villages; and of the necessity\nof consulting prudence more, and inclination less, in so critical\ncircumstances. When he perceived that, while the old men applauded his\nmoderation, many of the fiercest and most distinguished of the warriors\nlistened to these politic plans with lowering looks, he cunningly led\nthem back to the subject which they most loved. He spoke openly of the\nfruits of their wisdom, which he boldly pronounced would be a complete\nand final triumph over their enemies. He even darkly hinted that their\nsuccess might be extended, with proper caution, in such a manner as to\ninclude the destruction of all whom they had reason to hate. In short,\nhe so blended the warlike with the artful, the obvious with the obscure,\nas to flatter the propensities of both parties, and to leave to each\nsubject of hope, while neither could say it clearly comprehended his\nintentions.\n\nThe orator, or the politician, who can produce such a state of things,\nis commonly popular with his contemporaries, however he may be treated\nby posterity. All perceived that more was meant than was uttered, and\neach one believed that the hidden meaning was precisely such as his\nown faculties enabled him to understand, or his own wishes led him to\nanticipate.\n\nIn this happy state of things, it is not surprising that the management\nof Magua prevailed. The tribe consented to act with deliberation, and\nwith one voice they committed the direction of the whole affair to the\ngovernment of the chief who had suggested such wise and intelligible\nexpedients.\n\nMagua had now attained one great object of all his cunning and\nenterprise. The ground he had lost in the favor of his people was\ncompletely regained, and he found himself even placed at the head\nof affairs. He was, in truth, their ruler; and, so long as he could\nmaintain his popularity, no monarch could be more despotic, especially\nwhile the tribe continued in a hostile country. Throwing off, therefore,\nthe appearance of consultation, he assumed the grave air of authority\nnecessary to support the dignity of his office.\n\nRunners were despatched for intelligence in different directions; spies\nwere ordered to approach and feel the encampment of the Delawares; the\nwarriors were dismissed to their lodges, with an intimation that their\nservices would soon be needed; and the women and children were ordered\nto retire, with a warning that it was their province to be silent. When\nthese several arrangements were made, Magua passed through the village,\nstopping here and there to pay a visit where he thought his presence\nmight be flattering to the individual. He confirmed his friends in their\nconfidence, fixed the wavering, and gratified all. Then he sought his\nown lodge. The wife the Huron chief had abandoned, when he was chased\nfrom among his people, was dead. Children he had none; and he now\noccupied a hut, without companion of any sort. It was, in fact, the\ndilapidated and solitary structure in which David had been discovered,\nand whom he had tolerated in his presence, on those few occasions when\nthey met, with the contemptuous indifference of a haughty superiority.\n\nHither, then, Magua retired, when his labors of policy were ended. While\nothers slept, however, he neither knew or sought repose. Had there been\none sufficiently curious to have watched the movements of the newly\nelected chief, he would have seen him seated in a corner of his\nlodge, musing on the subject of his future plans, from the hour of his\nretirement to the time he had appointed for the warriors to assemble\nagain. Occasionally the air breathed through the crevices of the hut,\nand the low flame that fluttered about the embers of the fire threw\ntheir wavering light on the person of the sullen recluse. At such\nmoments it would not have been difficult to have fancied the dusky\nsavage the Prince of Darkness brooding on his own fancied wrongs, and\nplotting evil.\n\nLong before the day dawned, however, warrior after warrior entered the\nsolitary hut of Magua, until they had collected to the number of twenty.\nEach bore his rifle, and all the other accouterments of war, though\nthe paint was uniformly peaceful. The entrance of these fierce-looking\nbeings was unnoticed: some seating themselves in the shadows of the\nplace, and others standing like motionless statues, until the whole of\nthe designated band was collected.\n\nThen Magua arose and gave the signal to proceed, marching himself in\nadvance. They followed their leader singly, and in that well-known order\nwhich has obtained the distinguishing appellation of \"Indian file.\"\nUnlike other men engaged in the spirit-stirring business of war, they\nstole from their camp unostentatiously and unobserved resembling a band\nof gliding specters, more than warriors seeking the bubble reputation by\ndeeds of desperate daring.\n\nInstead of taking the path which led directly toward the camp of the\nDelawares, Magua led his party for some distance down the windings of\nthe stream, and along the little artificial lake of the beavers. The\nday began to dawn as they entered the clearing which had been formed by\nthose sagacious and industrious animals. Though Magua, who had resumed\nhis ancient garb, bore the outline of a fox on the dressed skin which\nformed his robe, there was one chief of his party who carried the beaver\nas his peculiar symbol, or \"totem.\" There would have been a species of\nprofanity in the omission, had this man passed so powerful a community\nof his fancied kindred, without bestowing some evidence of his regard.\nAccordingly, he paused, and spoke in words as kind and friendly as if\nhe were addressing more intelligent beings. He called the animals his\ncousins, and reminded them that his protecting influence was the reason\nthey remained unharmed, while many avaricious traders were prompting the\nIndians to take their lives. He promised a continuance of his favors,\nand admonished them to be grateful. After which, he spoke of the\nexpedition in which he was himself engaged, and intimated, though with\nsufficient delicacy and circumlocution, the expediency of bestowing\non their relative a portion of that wisdom for which they were so\nrenowned.*\n\n     * These harangues of the beasts were frequent among the\n     Indians. They often address their victims in this way,\n     reproaching them for cowardice or commending their\n     resolution, as they may happen to exhibit fortitude or the\n     reverse, in suffering.\n\nDuring the utterance of this extraordinary address, the companions of\nthe speaker were as grave and as attentive to his language as though\nthey were all equally impressed with its propriety. Once or twice black\nobjects were seen rising to the surface of the water, and the Huron\nexpressed pleasure, conceiving that his words were not bestowed in vain.\nJust as he ended his address, the head of a large beaver was thrust\nfrom the door of a lodge, whose earthen walls had been much injured,\nand which the party had believed, from its situation, to be uninhabited.\nSuch an extraordinary sign of confidence was received by the orator as\na highly favorable omen; and though the animal retreated a little\nprecipitately, he was lavish of his thanks and commendations.\n\nWhen Magua thought sufficient time had been lost in gratifying the\nfamily affection of the warrior, he again made the signal to proceed. As\nthe Indians moved away in a body, and with a step that would have been\ninaudible to the ears of any common man, the same venerable-looking\nbeaver once more ventured his head from its cover. Had any of the Hurons\nturned to look behind them, they would have seen the animal watching\ntheir movements with an interest and sagacity that might easily have\nbeen mistaken for reason. Indeed, so very distinct and intelligible were\nthe devices of the quadruped, that even the most experienced observer\nwould have been at a loss to account for its actions, until the moment\nwhen the party entered the forest, when the whole would have been\nexplained, by seeing the entire animal issue from the lodge, uncasing,\nby the act, the grave features of Chingachgook from his mask of fur.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 28\n\n     \"Brief, I pray for you; for you see, 'tis a busy time with me.\"\n     --Much Ado About Nothing.\n\nThe tribe, or rather half tribe, of Delawares, which has been so\noften mentioned, and whose present place of encampment was so nigh the\ntemporary village of the Hurons, could assemble about an equal number of\nwarriors with the latter people. Like their neighbors, they had followed\nMontcalm into the territories of the English crown, and were making\nheavy and serious inroads on the hunting-grounds of the Mohawks; though\nthey had seen fit, with the mysterious reserve so common among the\nnatives, to withhold their assistance at the moment when it was most\nrequired. The French had accounted for this unexpected defection on\nthe part of their ally in various ways. It was the prevalent opinion,\nhowever, that they had been influenced by veneration for the ancient\ntreaty, that had once made them dependent on the Six Nations for\nmilitary protection, and now rendered them reluctant to encounter their\nformer masters. As for the tribe itself, it had been content to announce\nto Montcalm, through his emissaries, with Indian brevity, that their\nhatchets were dull, and time was necessary to sharpen them. The politic\ncaptain of the Canadas had deemed it wiser to submit to entertain a\npassive friend, than by any acts of ill-judged severity to convert him\ninto an open enemy.\n\nOn that morning when Magua led his silent party from the settlement of\nthe beavers into the forests, in the manner described, the sun rose upon\nthe Delaware encampment as if it had suddenly burst upon a busy people,\nactively employed in all the customary avocations of high noon. The\nwomen ran from lodge to lodge, some engaged in preparing their morning's\nmeal, a few earnestly bent on seeking the comforts necessary to their\nhabits, but more pausing to exchange hasty and whispered sentences with\ntheir friends. The warriors were lounging in groups, musing more than\nthey conversed and when a few words were uttered, speaking like men who\ndeeply weighed their opinions. The instruments of the chase were to be\nseen in abundance among the lodges; but none departed. Here and there\na warrior was examining his arms, with an attention that is rarely\nbestowed on the implements, when no other enemy than the beasts of the\nforest is expected to be encountered. And occasionally, the eyes of a\nwhole group were turned simultaneously toward a large and silent lodge\nin the center of the village, as if it contained the subject of their\ncommon thoughts.\n\nDuring the existence of this scene, a man suddenly appeared at the\nfurthest extremity of a platform of rock which formed the level of the\nvillage. He was without arms, and his paint tended rather to soften than\nincrease the natural sternness of his austere countenance. When in\nfull view of the Delawares he stopped, and made a gesture of amity,\nby throwing his arm upward toward heaven, and then letting it fall\nimpressively on his breast. The inhabitants of the village answered\nhis salute by a low murmur of welcome, and encouraged him to advance by\nsimilar indications of friendship. Fortified by these assurances, the\ndark figure left the brow of the natural rocky terrace, where it had\nstood a moment, drawn in a strong outline against the blushing morning\nsky, and moved with dignity into the very center of the huts. As he\napproached, nothing was audible but the rattling of the light silver\nornaments that loaded his arms and neck, and the tinkling of the little\nbells that fringed his deerskin moccasins. He made, as he advanced, many\ncourteous signs of greeting to the men he passed, neglecting to notice\nthe women, however, like one who deemed their favor, in the present\nenterprise, of no importance. When he had reached the group in which it\nwas evident, by the haughtiness of their common mien, that the principal\nchiefs were collected, the stranger paused, and then the Delawares saw\nthat the active and erect form that stood before them was that of the\nwell-known Huron chief, Le Renard Subtil.\n\nHis reception was grave, silent, and wary. The warriors in front stepped\naside, opening the way to their most approved orator by the action; one\nwho spoke all those languages that were cultivated among the northern\naborigines.\n\n\"The wise Huron is welcome,\" said the Delaware, in the language of the\nMaquas; \"he is come to eat his 'succotash'*, with his brothers of the\nlakes.\"\n\n     * A dish composed of cracked corn and beans. It is much used\n     also by the whites. By corn is meant maise.\n\n\"He is come,\" repeated Magua, bending his head with the dignity of an\neastern prince.\n\nThe chief extended his arm and taking the other by the wrist, they once\nmore exchanged friendly salutations. Then the Delaware invited his guest\nto enter his own lodge, and share his morning meal. The invitation was\naccepted; and the two warriors, attended by three or four of the old\nmen, walked calmly away, leaving the rest of the tribe devoured by a\ndesire to understand the reasons of so unusual a visit, and yet not\nbetraying the least impatience by sign or word.\n\nDuring the short and frugal repast that followed, the conversation was\nextremely circumspect, and related entirely to the events of the hunt,\nin which Magua had so lately been engaged. It would have been impossible\nfor the most finished breeding to wear more of the appearance of\nconsidering the visit as a thing of course, than did his hosts,\nnotwithstanding every individual present was perfectly aware that\nit must be connected with some secret object and that probably of\nimportance to themselves. When the appetites of the whole were appeased,\nthe squaws removed the trenchers and gourds, and the two parties began\nto prepare themselves for a subtle trial of their wits.\n\n\"Is the face of my great Canada father turned again toward his Huron\nchildren?\" demanded the orator of the Delawares.\n\n\"When was it ever otherwise?\" returned Magua. \"He calls my people 'most\nbeloved'.\"\n\nThe Delaware gravely bowed his acquiescence to what he knew to be false,\nand continued:\n\n\"The tomahawks of your young men have been very red.\"\n\n\"It is so; but they are now bright and dull; for the Yengeese are dead,\nand the Delawares are our neighbors.\"\n\nThe other acknowledged the pacific compliment by a gesture of the hand,\nand remained silent. Then Magua, as if recalled to such a recollection,\nby the allusion to the massacre, demanded:\n\n\"Does my prisoner give trouble to my brothers?\"\n\n\"She is welcome.\"\n\n\"The path between the Hurons and the Delawares is short and it is open;\nlet her be sent to my squaws, if she gives trouble to my brother.\"\n\n\"She is welcome,\" returned the chief of the latter nation, still more\nemphatically.\n\nThe baffled Magua continued silent several minutes, apparently\nindifferent, however, to the repulse he had received in this his opening\neffort to regain possession of Cora.\n\n\"Do my young men leave the Delawares room on the mountains for their\nhunts?\" he at length continued.\n\n\"The Lenape are rulers of their own hills,\" returned the other a little\nhaughtily.\n\n\"It is well. Justice is the master of a red-skin. Why should they\nbrighten their tomahawks and sharpen their knives against each other?\nAre not the pale faces thicker than the swallows in the season of\nflowers?\"\n\n\"Good!\" exclaimed two or three of his auditors at the same time.\n\nMagua waited a little, to permit his words to soften the feelings of the\nDelawares, before he added:\n\n\"Have there not been strange moccasins in the woods? Have not my\nbrothers scented the feet of white men?\"\n\n\"Let my Canada father come,\" returned the other, evasively; \"his\nchildren are ready to see him.\"\n\n\"When the great chief comes, it is to smoke with the Indians in their\nwigwams. The Hurons say, too, he is welcome. But the Yengeese have long\narms, and legs that never tire! My young men dreamed they had seen the\ntrail of the Yengeese nigh the village of the Delawares!\"\n\n\"They will not find the Lenape asleep.\"\n\n\"It is well. The warrior whose eye is open can see his enemy,\" said\nMagua, once more shifting his ground, when he found himself unable to\npenetrate the caution of his companion. \"I have brought gifts to my\nbrother. His nation would not go on the warpath, because they did not\nthink it well, but their friends have remembered where they lived.\"\n\nWhen he had thus announced his liberal intention, the crafty chief\narose, and gravely spread his presents before the dazzled eyes of his\nhosts. They consisted principally of trinkets of little value, plundered\nfrom the slaughtered females of William Henry. In the division of\nthe baubles the cunning Huron discovered no less art than in their\nselection. While he bestowed those of greater value on the two most\ndistinguished warriors, one of whom was his host, he seasoned his\nofferings to their inferiors with such well-timed and apposite\ncompliments, as left them no ground of complaint. In short, the whole\nceremony contained such a happy blending of the profitable with the\nflattering, that it was not difficult for the donor immediately to read\nthe effect of a generosity so aptly mingled with praise, in the eyes of\nthose he addressed.\n\nThis well-judged and politic stroke on the part of Magua was not without\ninstantaneous results. The Delawares lost their gravity in a much more\ncordial expression; and the host, in particular, after contemplating\nhis own liberal share of the spoil for some moments with peculiar\ngratification, repeated with strong emphasis, the words:\n\n\"My brother is a wise chief. He is welcome.\"\n\n\"The Hurons love their friends the Delawares,\" returned Magua. \"Why\nshould they not? they are colored by the same sun, and their just men\nwill hunt in the same grounds after death. The red-skins should be\nfriends, and look with open eyes on the white men. Has not my brother\nscented spies in the woods?\"\n\nThe Delaware, whose name in English signified \"Hard Heart,\" an\nappellation that the French had translated into \"le Coeur-dur,\" forgot\nthat obduracy of purpose, which had probably obtained him so significant\na title. His countenance grew very sensibly less stern and he now\ndeigned to answer more directly.\n\n\"There have been strange moccasins about my camp. They have been tracked\ninto my lodges.\"\n\n\"Did my brother beat out the dogs?\" asked Magua, without adverting in\nany manner to the former equivocation of the chief.\n\n\"It would not do. The stranger is always welcome to the children of the\nLenape.\"\n\n\"The stranger, but not the spy.\"\n\n\"Would the Yengeese send their women as spies? Did not the Huron chief\nsay he took women in the battle?\"\n\n\"He told no lie. The Yengeese have sent out their scouts. They have been\nin my wigwams, but they found there no one to say welcome. Then they\nfled to the Delawares--for, say they, the Delawares are our friends;\ntheir minds are turned from their Canada father!\"\n\nThis insinuation was a home thrust, and one that in a more advanced\nstate of society would have entitled Magua to the reputation of a\nskillful diplomatist. The recent defection of the tribe had, as they\nwell knew themselves, subjected the Delawares to much reproach among\ntheir French allies; and they were now made to feel that their future\nactions were to be regarded with jealousy and distrust. There was no\ndeep insight into causes and effects necessary to foresee that such\na situation of things was likely to prove highly prejudicial to their\nfuture movements. Their distant villages, their hunting-grounds and\nhundreds of their women and children, together with a material part\nof their physical force, were actually within the limits of the French\nterritory. Accordingly, this alarming annunciation was received, as\nMagua intended, with manifest disapprobation, if not with alarm.\n\n\"Let my father look in my face,\" said Le Coeur-dur; \"he will see no\nchange. It is true, my young men did not go out on the war-path; they\nhad dreams for not doing so. But they love and venerate the great white\nchief.\"\n\n\"Will he think so when he hears that his greatest enemy is fed in the\ncamp of his children? When he is told a bloody Yengee smokes at your\nfire? That the pale face who has slain so many of his friends goes in\nand out among the Delawares? Go! my great Canada father is not a fool!\"\n\n\"Where is the Yengee that the Delawares fear?\" returned the other; \"who\nhas slain my young men? Who is the mortal enemy of my Great Father?\"\n\n\"La Longue Carabine!\"\n\nThe Delaware warriors started at the well-known name, betraying by their\namazement, that they now learned, for the first time, one so famous\namong the Indian allies of France was within their power.\n\n\"What does my brother mean?\" demanded Le Coeur-dur, in a tone that, by\nits wonder, far exceeded the usual apathy of his race.\n\n\"A Huron never lies!\" returned Magua, coldly, leaning his head against\nthe side of the lodge, and drawing his slight robe across his tawny\nbreast. \"Let the Delawares count their prisoners; they will find one\nwhose skin is neither red nor pale.\"\n\nA long and musing pause succeeded. The chief consulted apart with his\ncompanions, and messengers despatched to collect certain others of the\nmost distinguished men of the tribe.\n\nAs warrior after warrior dropped in, they were each made acquainted, in\nturn, with the important intelligence that Magua had just communicated.\nThe air of surprise, and the usual low, deep, guttural exclamation, were\ncommon to them all. The news spread from mouth to mouth, until the whole\nencampment became powerfully agitated. The women suspended their\nlabors, to catch such syllables as unguardedly fell from the lips of\nthe consulting warriors. The boys deserted their sports, and walking\nfearlessly among their fathers, looked up in curious admiration, as\nthey heard the brief exclamations of wonder they so freely expressed the\ntemerity of their hated foe. In short, every occupation was abandoned\nfor the time, and all other pursuits seemed discarded in order that the\ntribe might freely indulge, after their own peculiar manner, in an open\nexpression of feeling.\n\nWhen the excitement had a little abated, the old men disposed themselves\nseriously to consider that which it became the honor and safety of\ntheir tribe to perform, under circumstances of so much delicacy and\nembarrassment. During all these movements, and in the midst of the\ngeneral commotion, Magua had not only maintained his seat, but the very\nattitude he had originally taken, against the side of the lodge, where\nhe continued as immovable, and, apparently, as unconcerned, as if he\nhad no interest in the result. Not a single indication of the future\nintentions of his hosts, however, escaped his vigilant eyes. With his\nconsummate knowledge of the nature of the people with whom he had to\ndeal, he anticipated every measure on which they decided; and it might\nalmost be said, that, in many instances, he knew their intentions, even\nbefore they became known to themselves.\n\nThe council of the Delawares was short. When it was ended, a general\nbustle announced that it was to be immediately succeeded by a solemn and\nformal assemblage of the nation. As such meetings were rare, and only\ncalled on occasions of the last importance, the subtle Huron, who still\nsat apart, a wily and dark observer of the proceedings, now knew that\nall his projects must be brought to their final issue. He, therefore,\nleft the lodge and walked silently forth to the place, in front of the\nencampment, whither the warriors were already beginning to collect.\n\nIt might have been half an hour before each individual, including even\nthe women and children, was in his place. The delay had been created\nby the grave preparations that were deemed necessary to so solemn and\nunusual a conference. But when the sun was seen climbing above the tops\nof that mountain, against whose bosom the Delawares had constructed\ntheir encampment, most were seated; and as his bright rays darted from\nbehind the outline of trees that fringed the eminence, they fell upon\nas grave, as attentive, and as deeply interested a multitude, as was\nprobably ever before lighted by his morning beams. Its number somewhat\nexceeded a thousand souls.\n\nIn a collection of so serious savages, there is never to be found any\nimpatient aspirant after premature distinction, standing ready to move\nhis auditors to some hasty, and, perhaps, injudicious discussion, in\norder that his own reputation may be the gainer. An act of so much\nprecipitancy and presumption would seal the downfall of precocious\nintellect forever. It rested solely with the oldest and most experienced\nof the men to lay the subject of the conference before the people. Until\nsuch a one chose to make some movement, no deeds in arms, no natural\ngifts, nor any renown as an orator, would have justified the slightest\ninterruption. On the present occasion, the aged warrior whose privilege\nit was to speak, was silent, seemingly oppressed with the magnitude\nof his subject. The delay had already continued long beyond the usual\ndeliberative pause that always preceded a conference; but no sign of\nimpatience or surprise escaped even the youngest boy. Occasionally an\neye was raised from the earth, where the looks of most were riveted,\nand strayed toward a particular lodge, that was, however, in no manner\ndistinguished from those around it, except in the peculiar care that had\nbeen taken to protect it against the assaults of the weather.\n\nAt length one of those low murmurs, that are so apt to disturb a\nmultitude, was heard, and the whole nation arose to their feet by\na common impulse. At that instant the door of the lodge in question\nopened, and three men, issuing from it, slowly approached the place of\nconsultation. They were all aged, even beyond that period to which the\noldest present had reached; but one in the center, who leaned on his\ncompanions for support, had numbered an amount of years to which the\nhuman race is seldom permitted to attain. His frame, which had once been\ntall and erect, like the cedar, was now bending under the pressure of\nmore than a century. The elastic, light step of an Indian was gone, and\nin its place he was compelled to toil his tardy way over the ground,\ninch by inch. His dark, wrinkled countenance was in singular and wild\ncontrast with the long white locks which floated on his shoulders, in\nsuch thickness, as to announce that generations had probably passed away\nsince they had last been shorn.\n\nThe dress of this patriarch--for such, considering his vast age, in\nconjunction with his affinity and influence with his people, he might\nvery properly be termed--was rich and imposing, though strictly after\nthe simple fashions of the tribe. His robe was of the finest\nskins, which had been deprived of their fur, in order to admit of a\nhieroglyphical representation of various deeds in arms, done in former\nages. His bosom was loaded with medals, some in massive silver, and one\nor two even in gold, the gifts of various Christian potentates during\nthe long period of his life. He also wore armlets, and cinctures above\nthe ankles, of the latter precious metal. His head, on the whole of\nwhich the hair had been permitted to grow, the pursuits of war having so\nlong been abandoned, was encircled by a sort of plated diadem, which, in\nits turn, bore lesser and more glittering ornaments, that sparkled amid\nthe glossy hues of three drooping ostrich feathers, dyed a deep black,\nin touching contrast to the color of his snow-white locks. His tomahawk\nwas nearly hid in silver, and the handle of his knife shone like a horn\nof solid gold.\n\nSo soon as the first hum of emotion and pleasure, which the sudden\nappearance of this venerated individual created, had a little subsided,\nthe name of \"Tamenund\" was whispered from mouth to mouth. Magua had\noften heard the fame of this wise and just Delaware; a reputation that\neven proceeded so far as to bestow on him the rare gift of holding\nsecret communion with the Great Spirit, and which has since transmitted\nhis name, with some slight alteration, to the white usurpers of his\nancient territory, as the imaginary tutelar saint* of a vast empire. The\nHuron chief, therefore, stepped eagerly out a little from the throng,\nto a spot whence he might catch a nearer glimpse of the features of the\nman, whose decision was likely to produce so deep an influence on his\nown fortunes.\n\n     * The Americans sometimes called their tutelar saint\n     Tamenay, a corruption of the name of the renowned chief here\n     introduced. There are many traditions which speak of the\n     character and power of Tamenund.\n\nThe eyes of the old man were closed, as though the organs were wearied\nwith having so long witnessed the selfish workings of the human\npassions. The color of his skin differed from that of most around him,\nbeing richer and darker, the latter having been produced by certain\ndelicate and mazy lines of complicated and yet beautiful figures, which\nhad been traced over most of his person by the operation of tattooing.\nNotwithstanding the position of the Huron, he passed the observant and\nsilent Magua without notice, and leaning on his two venerable supporters\nproceeded to the high place of the multitude, where he seated himself in\nthe center of his nation, with the dignity of a monarch and the air of a\nfather.\n\nNothing could surpass the reverence and affection with which this\nunexpected visit from one who belongs rather to another world than to\nthis, was received by his people. After a suitable and decent pause, the\nprincipal chiefs arose, and, approaching the patriarch, they placed\nhis hands reverently on their heads, seeming to entreat a blessing. The\nyounger men were content with touching his robe, or even drawing nigh\nhis person, in order to breathe in the atmosphere of one so aged, so\njust, and so valiant. None but the most distinguished among the youthful\nwarriors even presumed so far as to perform the latter ceremony, the\ngreat mass of the multitude deeming it a sufficient happiness to look\nupon a form so deeply venerated, and so well beloved. When these acts\nof affection and respect were performed, the chiefs drew back again to\ntheir several places, and silence reigned in the whole encampment.\n\nAfter a short delay, a few of the young men, to whom instructions had\nbeen whispered by one of the aged attendants of Tamenund, arose, left\nthe crowd, and entered the lodge which has already been noted as the\nobject of so much attention throughout that morning. In a few minutes\nthey reappeared, escorting the individuals who had caused all these\nsolemn preparations toward the seat of judgment. The crowd opened in a\nlane; and when the party had re-entered, it closed in again, forming a\nlarge and dense belt of human bodies, arranged in an open circle.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 29\n\n     \"The assembly seated, rising o'er the rest,\n     Achilles thus the king of men addressed.\"\n     --Pope's Illiad\n\nCora stood foremost among the prisoners, entwining her arms in those of\nAlice, in the tenderness of sisterly love. Notwithstanding the fearful\nand menacing array of savages on every side of her, no apprehension on\nher own account could prevent the nobler-minded maiden from keeping her\neyes fastened on the pale and anxious features of the trembling Alice.\nClose at their side stood Heyward, with an interest in both, that, at\nsuch a moment of intense uncertainty, scarcely knew a preponderance in\nfavor of her whom he most loved. Hawkeye had placed himself a little in\nthe rear, with a deference to the superior rank of his companions, that\nno similarity in the state of their present fortunes could induce him to\nforget. Uncas was not there.\n\nWhen perfect silence was again restored, and after the usual long,\nimpressive pause, one of the two aged chiefs who sat at the side of the\npatriarch arose, and demanded aloud, in very intelligible English:\n\n\"Which of my prisoners is La Longue Carabine?\"\n\nNeither Duncan nor the scout answered. The former, however, glanced his\neyes around the dark and silent assembly, and recoiled a pace, when they\nfell on the malignant visage of Magua. He saw, at once, that this wily\nsavage had some secret agency in their present arraignment before the\nnation, and determined to throw every possible impediment in the way of\nthe execution of his sinister plans. He had witnessed one instance\nof the summary punishments of the Indians, and now dreaded that his\ncompanion was to be selected for a second. In this dilemma, with\nlittle or no time for reflection, he suddenly determined to cloak his\ninvaluable friend, at any or every hazard to himself. Before he had\ntime, however, to speak, the question was repeated in a louder voice,\nand with a clearer utterance.\n\n\"Give us arms,\" the young man haughtily replied, \"and place us in yonder\nwoods. Our deeds shall speak for us!\"\n\n\"This is the warrior whose name has filled our ears!\" returned the\nchief, regarding Heyward with that sort of curious interest which seems\ninseparable from man, when first beholding one of his fellows to whom\nmerit or accident, virtue or crime, has given notoriety. \"What has\nbrought the white man into the camp of the Delawares?\"\n\n\"My necessities. I come for food, shelter, and friends.\"\n\n\"It cannot be. The woods are full of game. The head of a warrior needs\nno other shelter than a sky without clouds; and the Delawares are the\nenemies, and not the friends of the Yengeese. Go, the mouth has spoken,\nwhile the heart said nothing.\"\n\nDuncan, a little at a loss in what manner to proceed, remained silent;\nbut the scout, who had listened attentively to all that passed, now\nadvanced steadily to the front.\n\n\"That I did not answer to the call for La Longue Carabine, was not owing\neither to shame or fear,\" he said, \"for neither one nor the other is the\ngift of an honest man. But I do not admit the right of the Mingoes to\nbestow a name on one whose friends have been mindful of his gifts, in\nthis particular; especially as their title is a lie, 'killdeer' being a\ngrooved barrel and no carabyne. I am the man, however, that got the name\nof Nathaniel from my kin; the compliment of Hawkeye from the Delawares,\nwho live on their own river; and whom the Iroquois have presumed to\nstyle the 'Long Rifle', without any warranty from him who is most\nconcerned in the matter.\"\n\nThe eyes of all present, which had hitherto been gravely scanning the\nperson of Duncan, were now turned, on the instant, toward the upright\niron frame of this new pretender to the distinguished appellation. It\nwas in no degree remarkable that there should be found two who were\nwilling to claim so great an honor, for impostors, though rare, were not\nunknown among the natives; but it was altogether material to the just\nand severe intentions of the Delawares, that there should be no mistake\nin the matter. Some of their old men consulted together in private, and\nthen, as it would seem, they determined to interrogate their visitor on\nthe subject.\n\n\"My brother has said that a snake crept into my camp,\" said the chief to\nMagua; \"which is he?\"\n\nThe Huron pointed to the scout.\n\n\"Will a wise Delaware believe the barking of a wolf?\" exclaimed Duncan,\nstill more confirmed in the evil intentions of his ancient enemy: \"a dog\nnever lies, but when was a wolf known to speak the truth?\"\n\nThe eyes of Magua flashed fire; but suddenly recollecting the necessity\nof maintaining his presence of mind, he turned away in silent disdain,\nwell assured that the sagacity of the Indians would not fail to extract\nthe real merits of the point in controversy. He was not deceived; for,\nafter another short consultation, the wary Delaware turned to him\nagain, and expressed the determination of the chiefs, though in the most\nconsiderate language.\n\n\"My brother has been called a liar,\" he said, \"and his friends are\nangry. They will show that he has spoken the truth. Give my prisoners\nguns, and let them prove which is the man.\"\n\nMagua affected to consider the expedient, which he well knew proceeded\nfrom distrust of himself, as a compliment, and made a gesture of\nacquiescence, well content that his veracity should be supported by so\nskillful a marksman as the scout. The weapons were instantly placed in\nthe hands of the friendly opponents, and they were bid to fire, over\nthe heads of the seated multitude, at an earthen vessel, which lay, by\naccident, on a stump, some fifty yards from the place where they stood.\n\nHeyward smiled to himself at the idea of a competition with the scout,\nthough he determined to persevere in the deception, until apprised of\nthe real designs of Magua.\n\nRaising his rifle with the utmost care, and renewing his aim three\nseveral times, he fired. The bullet cut the wood within a few inches of\nthe vessel; and a general exclamation of satisfaction announced that the\nshot was considered a proof of great skill in the use of a weapon.\nEven Hawkeye nodded his head, as if he would say, it was better than he\nexpected. But, instead of manifesting an intention to contend with\nthe successful marksman, he stood leaning on his rifle for more than\na minute, like a man who was completely buried in thought. From this\nreverie, he was, however, awakened by one of the young Indians who\nhad furnished the arms, and who now touched his shoulder, saying in\nexceedingly broken English:\n\n\"Can the pale face beat it?\"\n\n\"Yes, Huron!\" exclaimed the scout, raising the short rifle in his right\nhand, and shaking it at Magua, with as much apparent ease as if it were\na reed; \"yes, Huron, I could strike you now, and no power on earth could\nprevent the deed! The soaring hawk is not more certain of the dove than\nI am this moment of you, did I choose to send a bullet to your heart!\nWhy should I not? Why!--because the gifts of my color forbid it, and I\nmight draw down evil on tender and innocent heads. If you know such a\nbeing as God, thank Him, therefore, in your inward soul; for you have\nreason!\"\n\nThe flushed countenance, angry eye and swelling figure of the scout,\nproduced a sensation of secret awe in all that heard him. The Delawares\nheld their breath in expectation; but Magua himself, even while he\ndistrusted the forbearance of his enemy, remained immovable and calm,\nwhere he stood wedged in by the crowd, as one who grew to the spot.\n\n\"Beat it,\" repeated the young Delaware at the elbow of the scout.\n\n\"Beat what, fool!--what?\" exclaimed Hawkeye, still flourishing the\nweapon angrily above his head, though his eye no longer sought the\nperson of Magua.\n\n\"If the white man is the warrior he pretends,\" said the aged chief, \"let\nhim strike nigher to the mark.\"\n\nThe scout laughed aloud--a noise that produced the startling effect of\nan unnatural sound on Heyward; then dropping the piece, heavily, into\nhis extended left hand, it was discharged, apparently by the shock,\ndriving the fragments of the vessel into the air, and scattering them on\nevery side. Almost at the same instant, the rattling sound of the rifle\nwas heard, as he suffered it to fall, contemptuously, to the earth.\n\nThe first impression of so strange a scene was engrossing admiration.\nThen a low, but increasing murmur, ran through the multitude, and\nfinally swelled into sounds that denoted a lively opposition in\nthe sentiments of the spectators. While some openly testified their\nsatisfaction at so unexampled dexterity, by far the larger portion\nof the tribe were inclined to believe the success of the shot was the\nresult of accident. Heyward was not slow to confirm an opinion that was\nso favorable to his own pretensions.\n\n\"It was chance!\" he exclaimed; \"none can shoot without an aim!\"\n\n\"Chance!\" echoed the excited woodsman, who was now stubbornly bent on\nmaintaining his identity at every hazard, and on whom the secret hints\nof Heyward to acquiesce in the deception were entirely lost. \"Does\nyonder lying Huron, too, think it chance? Give him another gun, and\nplace us face to face, without cover or dodge, and let Providence, and\nour own eyes, decide the matter atween us! I do not make the offer, to\nyou, major; for our blood is of a color, and we serve the same master.\"\n\n\"That the Huron is a liar, is very evident,\" returned Heyward, coolly;\n\"you have yourself heard him assert you to be La Longue Carabine.\"\n\nIt were impossible to say what violent assertion the stubborn Hawkeye\nwould have next made, in his headlong wish to vindicate his identity,\nhad not the aged Delaware once more interposed.\n\n\"The hawk which comes from the clouds can return when he will,\" he said;\n\"give them the guns.\"\n\nThis time the scout seized the rifle with avidity; nor had Magua, though\nhe watched the movements of the marksman with jealous eyes, any further\ncause for apprehension.\n\n\"Now let it be proved, in the face of this tribe of Delawares, which\nis the better man,\" cried the scout, tapping the butt of his piece with\nthat finger which had pulled so many fatal triggers.\n\n\"You see that gourd hanging against yonder tree, major; if you are a\nmarksman fit for the borders, let me see you break its shell!\"\n\nDuncan noted the object, and prepared himself to renew the trial. The\ngourd was one of the usual little vessels used by the Indians, and\nit was suspended from a dead branch of a small pine, by a thong\nof deerskin, at the full distance of a hundred yards. So strangely\ncompounded is the feeling of self-love, that the young soldier, while\nhe knew the utter worthlessness of the suffrages of his savage umpires,\nforgot the sudden motives of the contest in a wish to excel. It had been\nseen, already, that his skill was far from being contemptible, and he\nnow resolved to put forth its nicest qualities. Had his life depended\non the issue, the aim of Duncan could not have been more deliberate or\nguarded. He fired; and three or four young Indians, who sprang forward\nat the report, announced with a shout, that the ball was in the tree,\na very little on one side of the proper object. The warriors uttered a\ncommon ejaculation of pleasure, and then turned their eyes, inquiringly,\non the movements of his rival.\n\n\"It may do for the Royal Americans!\" said Hawkeye, laughing once more in\nhis own silent, heartfelt manner; \"but had my gun often turned so much\nfrom the true line, many a marten, whose skin is now in a lady's muff,\nwould still be in the woods; ay, and many a bloody Mingo, who has\ndeparted to his final account, would be acting his deviltries at this\nvery day, atween the provinces. I hope the squaw who owns the gourd has\nmore of them in her wigwam, for this will never hold water again!\"\n\nThe scout had shook his priming, and cocked his piece, while speaking;\nand, as he ended, he threw back a foot, and slowly raised the muzzle\nfrom the earth: the motion was steady, uniform, and in one direction.\nWhen on a perfect level, it remained for a single moment, without tremor\nor variation, as though both man and rifle were carved in stone. During\nthat stationary instant, it poured forth its contents, in a bright,\nglancing sheet of flame. Again the young Indians bounded forward; but\ntheir hurried search and disappointed looks announced that no traces of\nthe bullet were to be seen.\n\n\"Go!\" said the old chief to the scout, in a tone of strong disgust;\n\"thou art a wolf in the skin of a dog. I will talk to the 'Long Rifle'\nof the Yengeese.\"\n\n\"Ah! had I that piece which furnished the name you use, I would obligate\nmyself to cut the thong, and drop the gourd without breaking it!\"\nreturned Hawkeye, perfectly undisturbed by the other's manner. \"Fools,\nif you would find the bullet of a sharpshooter in these woods, you must\nlook in the object, and not around it!\"\n\nThe Indian youths instantly comprehended his meaning--for this time he\nspoke in the Delaware tongue--and tearing the gourd from the tree, they\nheld it on high with an exulting shout, displaying a hole in its bottom,\nwhich had been cut by the bullet, after passing through the usual\norifice in the center of its upper side. At this unexpected exhibition,\na loud and vehement expression of pleasure burst from the mouth of every\nwarrior present. It decided the question, and effectually established\nHawkeye in the possession of his dangerous reputation. Those curious\nand admiring eyes which had been turned again on Heyward, were finally\ndirected to the weather-beaten form of the scout, who immediately became\nthe principal object of attention to the simple and unsophisticated\nbeings by whom he was surrounded. When the sudden and noisy commotion\nhad a little subsided, the aged chief resumed his examination.\n\n\"Why did you wish to stop my ears?\" he said, addressing Duncan; \"are\nthe Delawares fools that they could not know the young panther from the\ncat?\"\n\n\"They will yet find the Huron a singing-bird,\" said Duncan, endeavoring\nto adopt the figurative language of the natives.\n\n\"It is good. We will know who can shut the ears of men. Brother,\" added\nthe chief turning his eyes on Magua, \"the Delawares listen.\"\n\nThus singled, and directly called on to declare his object, the Huron\narose; and advancing with great deliberation and dignity into the very\ncenter of the circle, where he stood confronted by the prisoners,\nhe placed himself in an attitude to speak. Before opening his mouth,\nhowever, he bent his eyes slowly along the whole living boundary of\nearnest faces, as if to temper his expressions to the capacities of his\naudience. On Hawkeye he cast a glance of respectful enmity; on Duncan,\na look of inextinguishable hatred; the shrinking figure of Alice\nhe scarcely deigned to notice; but when his glance met the firm,\ncommanding, and yet lovely form of Cora, his eye lingered a moment, with\nan expression that it might have been difficult to define. Then, filled\nwith his own dark intentions, he spoke in the language of the Canadas, a\ntongue that he well knew was comprehended by most of his auditors.\n\n\"The Spirit that made men colored them differently,\" commenced the\nsubtle Huron. \"Some are blacker than the sluggish bear. These He said\nshould be slaves; and He ordered them to work forever, like the beaver.\nYou may hear them groan, when the south wind blows, louder than the\nlowing buffaloes, along the shores of the great salt lake, where the big\ncanoes come and go with them in droves. Some He made with faces paler\nthan the ermine of the forests; and these He ordered to be traders;\ndogs to their women, and wolves to their slaves. He gave this people the\nnature of the pigeon; wings that never tire; young, more plentiful than\nthe leaves on the trees, and appetites to devour the earth. He gave them\ntongues like the false call of the wildcat; hearts like rabbits; the\ncunning of the hog (but none of the fox), and arms longer than the legs\nof the moose. With his tongue he stops the ears of the Indians; his\nheart teaches him to pay warriors to fight his battles; his cunning\ntells him how to get together the goods of the earth; and his arms\ninclose the land from the shores of the salt-water to the islands of the\ngreat lake. His gluttony makes him sick. God gave him enough, and yet he\nwants all. Such are the pale faces.\n\n\"Some the Great Spirit made with skins brighter and redder than yonder\nsun,\" continued Magua, pointing impressively upward to the lurid\nluminary, which was struggling through the misty atmosphere of the\nhorizon; \"and these did He fashion to His own mind. He gave them this\nisland as He had made it, covered with trees, and filled with game. The\nwind made their clearings; the sun and rain ripened their fruits; and\nthe snows came to tell them to be thankful. What need had they of roads\nto journey by! They saw through the hills! When the beavers worked, they\nlay in the shade, and looked on. The winds cooled them in summer; in\nwinter, skins kept them warm. If they fought among themselves, it was\nto prove that they were men. They were brave; they were just; they were\nhappy.\"\n\nHere the speaker paused, and again looked around him to discover if his\nlegend had touched the sympathies of his listeners. He met everywhere,\nwith eyes riveted on his own, heads erect and nostrils expanded, as\nif each individual present felt himself able and willing, singly, to\nredress the wrongs of his race.\n\n\"If the Great Spirit gave different tongues to his red children,\" he\ncontinued, in a low, still melancholy voice, \"it was that all animals\nmight understand them. Some He placed among the snows, with their\ncousin, the bear. Some he placed near the setting sun, on the road to\nthe happy hunting grounds. Some on the lands around the great fresh\nwaters; but to His greatest, and most beloved, He gave the sands of the\nsalt lake. Do my brothers know the name of this favored people?\"\n\n\"It was the Lenape!\" exclaimed twenty eager voices in a breath.\n\n\"It was the Lenni Lenape,\" returned Magua, affecting to bend his head in\nreverence to their former greatness. \"It was the tribes of the Lenape!\nThe sun rose from water that was salt, and set in water that was sweet,\nand never hid himself from their eyes. But why should I, a Huron of the\nwoods, tell a wise people their own traditions? Why remind them of\ntheir injuries; their ancient greatness; their deeds; their glory; their\nhappiness; their losses; their defeats; their misery? Is there not one\namong them who has seen it all, and who knows it to be true? I have\ndone. My tongue is still for my heart is of lead. I listen.\"\n\nAs the voice of the speaker suddenly ceased, every face and all eyes\nturned, by a common movement, toward the venerable Tamenund. From the\nmoment that he took his seat, until the present instant, the lips of the\npatriarch had not severed, and scarcely a sign of life had escaped him.\nHe sat bent in feebleness, and apparently unconscious of the presence\nhe was in, during the whole of that opening scene, in which the skill of\nthe scout had been so clearly established. At the nicely graduated sound\nof Magua's voice, however, he betrayed some evidence of consciousness,\nand once or twice he even raised his head, as if to listen. But when\nthe crafty Huron spoke of his nation by name, the eyelids of the old man\nraised themselves, and he looked out upon the multitude with that sort\nof dull, unmeaning expression which might be supposed to belong to the\ncountenance of a specter. Then he made an effort to rise, and being\nupheld by his supporters, he gained his feet, in a posture commanding by\nits dignity, while he tottered with weakness.\n\n\"Who calls upon the children of the Lenape?\" he said, in a deep,\nguttural voice, that was rendered awfully audible by the breathless\nsilence of the multitude; \"who speaks of things gone? Does not the egg\nbecome a worm--the worm a fly, and perish? Why tell the Delawares of\ngood that is past? Better thank the Manitou for that which remains.\"\n\n\"It is a Wyandot,\" said Magua, stepping nigher to the rude platform on\nwhich the other stood; \"a friend of Tamenund.\"\n\n\"A friend!\" repeated the sage, on whose brow a dark frown settled,\nimparting a portion of that severity which had rendered his eye so\nterrible in middle age. \"Are the Mingoes rulers of the earth? What\nbrings a Huron in here?\"\n\n\"Justice. His prisoners are with his brothers, and he comes for his\nown.\"\n\nTamenund turned his head toward one of his supporters, and listened to\nthe short explanation the man gave.\n\nThen, facing the applicant, he regarded him a moment with deep\nattention; after which he said, in a low and reluctant voice:\n\n\"Justice is the law of the great Manitou. My children, give the stranger\nfood. Then, Huron, take thine own and depart.\"\n\nOn the delivery of this solemn judgment, the patriarch seated himself,\nand closed his eyes again, as if better pleased with the images of\nhis own ripened experience than with the visible objects of the world.\nAgainst such a decree there was no Delaware sufficiently hardy to\nmurmur, much less oppose himself. The words were barely uttered when\nfour or five of the younger warriors, stepping behind Heyward and the\nscout, passed thongs so dexterously and rapidly around their arms, as\nto hold them both in instant bondage. The former was too much engrossed\nwith his precious and nearly insensible burden, to be aware of their\nintentions before they were executed; and the latter, who considered\neven the hostile tribes of the Delawares a superior race of beings,\nsubmitted without resistance. Perhaps, however, the manner of the scout\nwould not have been so passive, had he fully comprehended the language\nin which the preceding dialogue had been conducted.\n\nMagua cast a look of triumph around the whole assembly before he\nproceeded to the execution of his purpose. Perceiving that the men were\nunable to offer any resistance, he turned his looks on her he valued\nmost. Cora met his gaze with an eye so calm and firm, that his\nresolution wavered. Then, recollecting his former artifice, he raised\nAlice from the arms of the warrior against whom she leaned, and\nbeckoning Heyward to follow, he motioned for the encircling crowd to\nopen. But Cora, instead of obeying the impulse he had expected, rushed\nto the feet of the patriarch, and, raising her voice, exclaimed aloud:\n\n\"Just and venerable Delaware, on thy wisdom and power we lean for mercy!\nBe deaf to yonder artful and remorseless monster, who poisons thy ears\nwith falsehoods to feed his thirst for blood. Thou that hast lived long,\nand that hast seen the evil of the world, should know how to temper its\ncalamities to the miserable.\"\n\nThe eyes of the old man opened heavily, and he once more looked upward\nat the multitude. As the piercing tones of the suppliant swelled on\nhis ears, they moved slowly in the direction of her person, and finally\nsettled there in a steady gaze. Cora had cast herself to her knees;\nand, with hands clenched in each other and pressed upon her bosom, she\nremained like a beauteous and breathing model of her sex, looking up in\nhis faded but majestic countenance, with a species of holy reverence.\nGradually the expression of Tamenund's features changed, and losing\ntheir vacancy in admiration, they lighted with a portion of that\nintelligence which a century before had been wont to communicate his\nyouthful fire to the extensive bands of the Delawares. Rising without\nassistance, and seemingly without an effort, he demanded, in a voice\nthat startled its auditors by its firmness:\n\n\"What art thou?\"\n\n\"A woman. One of a hated race, if thou wilt--a Yengee. But one who has\nnever harmed thee, and who cannot harm thy people, if she would; who\nasks for succor.\"\n\n\"Tell me, my children,\" continued the patriarch, hoarsely, motioning to\nthose around him, though his eyes still dwelt upon the kneeling form of\nCora, \"where have the Delawares camped?\"\n\n\"In the mountains of the Iroquois, beyond the clear springs of the\nHorican.\"\n\n\"Many parching summers are come and gone,\" continued the sage, \"since\nI drank of the water of my own rivers. The children of Minquon* are the\njustest white men, but they were thirsty and they took it to themselves.\nDo they follow us so far?\"\n\n     * William Penn was termed Minquon by the Delawares, and, as\n     he never used violence or injustice in his dealings with\n     them, his reputation for probity passed into a proverb. The\n     American is justly proud of the origin of his nation, which\n     is perhaps unequaled in the history of the world; but the\n     Pennsylvanian and Jerseyman have more reason to value\n     themselves in their ancestors than the natives of any other\n     state, since no wrong was done the original owners of the\n     soil.\n\n\"We follow none, we covet nothing,\" answered Cora. \"Captives against our\nwills, have we been brought amongst you; and we ask but permission\nto depart to our own in peace. Art thou not Tamenund--the father, the\njudge, I had almost said, the prophet--of this people?\"\n\n\"I am Tamenund of many days.\"\n\n\"'Tis now some seven years that one of thy people was at the mercy of\na white chief on the borders of this province. He claimed to be of the\nblood of the good and just Tamenund. 'Go', said the white man, 'for\nthy parent's sake thou art free.' Dost thou remember the name of that\nEnglish warrior?\"\n\n\"I remember, that when a laughing boy,\" returned the patriarch, with the\npeculiar recollection of vast age, \"I stood upon the sands of the sea\nshore, and saw a big canoe, with wings whiter than the swan's, and wider\nthan many eagles, come from the rising sun.\"\n\n\"Nay, nay; I speak not of a time so very distant, but of favor shown to\nthy kindred by one of mine, within the memory of thy youngest warrior.\"\n\n\"Was it when the Yengeese and the Dutchmanne fought for the\nhunting-grounds of the Delawares? Then Tamenund was a chief, and first\nlaid aside the bow for the lightning of the pale faces--\"\n\n\"Not yet then,\" interrupted Cora, \"by many ages; I speak of a thing of\nyesterday. Surely, surely, you forget it not.\"\n\n\"It was but yesterday,\" rejoined the aged man, with touching pathos,\n\"that the children of the Lenape were masters of the world. The fishes\nof the salt lake, the birds, the beasts, and the Mengee of the woods,\nowned them for Sagamores.\"\n\nCora bowed her head in disappointment, and, for a bitter moment\nstruggled with her chagrin. Then, elevating her rich features and\nbeaming eyes, she continued, in tones scarcely less penetrating than the\nunearthly voice of the patriarch himself:\n\n\"Tell me, is Tamenund a father?\"\n\nThe old man looked down upon her from his elevated stand, with a\nbenignant smile on his wasted countenance, and then casting his eyes\nslowly over the whole assemblage, he answered:\n\n\"Of a nation.\"\n\n\"For myself I ask nothing. Like thee and thine, venerable chief,\" she\ncontinued, pressing her hands convulsively on her heart, and suffering\nher head to droop until her burning cheeks were nearly concealed in the\nmaze of dark, glossy tresses that fell in disorder upon her shoulders,\n\"the curse of my ancestors has fallen heavily on their child. But yonder\nis one who has never known the weight of Heaven's displeasure until now.\nShe is the daughter of an old and failing man, whose days are near their\nclose. She has many, very many, to love her, and delight in her; and she\nis too good, much too precious, to become the victim of that villain.\"\n\n\"I know that the pale faces are a proud and hungry race. I know that\nthey claim not only to have the earth, but that the meanest of their\ncolor is better than the Sachems of the red man. The dogs and crows of\ntheir tribes,\" continued the earnest old chieftain, without heeding the\nwounded spirit of his listener, whose head was nearly crushed to the\nearth in shame, as he proceeded, \"would bark and caw before they would\ntake a woman to their wigwams whose blood was not of the color of snow.\nBut let them not boast before the face of the Manitou too loud. They\nentered the land at the rising, and may yet go off at the setting sun.\nI have often seen the locusts strip the leaves from the trees, but the\nseason of blossoms has always come again.\"\n\n\"It is so,\" said Cora, drawing a long breath, as if reviving from a\ntrance, raising her face, and shaking back her shining veil, with\na kindling eye, that contradicted the death-like paleness of her\ncountenance; \"but why--it is not permitted us to inquire. There is yet\none of thine own people who has not been brought before thee; before\nthou lettest the Huron depart in triumph, hear him speak.\"\n\nObserving Tamenund to look about him doubtingly, one of his companions\nsaid:\n\n\"It is a snake--a red-skin in the pay of the Yengeese. We keep him for\nthe torture.\"\n\n\"Let him come,\" returned the sage.\n\nThen Tamenund once more sank into his seat, and a silence so deep\nprevailed while the young man prepared to obey his simple mandate, that\nthe leaves, which fluttered in the draught of the light morning air,\nwere distinctly heard rustling in the surrounding forest.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 30\n\n     \"If you deny me, fie upon your law!\n     There is no force in the decrees of Venice:\n     I stand for judgment: answer, shall I have it?\"\n     --Merchant of Venice\n\nThe silence continued unbroken by human sounds for many anxious minutes.\nThen the waving multitude opened and shut again, and Uncas stood in the\nliving circle. All those eyes, which had been curiously studying the\nlineaments of the sage, as the source of their own intelligence, turned\non the instant, and were now bent in secret admiration on the erect,\nagile, and faultless person of the captive. But neither the presence in\nwhich he found himself, nor the exclusive attention that he attracted,\nin any manner disturbed the self-possession of the young Mohican. He\ncast a deliberate and observing look on every side of him, meeting\nthe settled expression of hostility that lowered in the visages of\nthe chiefs with the same calmness as the curious gaze of the attentive\nchildren. But when, last in this haughty scrutiny, the person of\nTamenund came under his glance, his eye became fixed, as though all\nother objects were already forgotten. Then, advancing with a slow and\nnoiseless step up the area, he placed himself immediately before the\nfootstool of the sage. Here he stood unnoted, though keenly observant\nhimself, until one of the chiefs apprised the latter of his presence.\n\n\"With what tongue does the prisoner speak to the Manitou?\" demanded the\npatriarch, without unclosing his eyes.\n\n\"Like his fathers,\" Uncas replied; \"with the tongue of a Delaware.\"\n\nAt this sudden and unexpected annunciation, a low, fierce yell ran\nthrough the multitude, that might not inaptly be compared to the growl\nof the lion, as his choler is first awakened--a fearful omen of the\nweight of his future anger. The effect was equally strong on the sage,\nthough differently exhibited. He passed a hand before his eyes, as if\nto exclude the least evidence of so shameful a spectacle, while he\nrepeated, in his low, guttural tones, the words he had just heard.\n\n\"A Delaware! I have lived to see the tribes of the Lenape driven from\ntheir council-fires, and scattered, like broken herds of deer, among the\nhills of the Iroquois! I have seen the hatchets of a strong people sweep\nwoods from the valleys, that the winds of heaven have spared! The beasts\nthat run on the mountains, and the birds that fly above the trees, have\nI seen living in the wigwams of men; but never before have I found a\nDelaware so base as to creep, like a poisonous serpent, into the camps\nof his nation.\"\n\n\"The singing-birds have opened their bills,\" returned Uncas, in the\nsoftest notes of his own musical voice; \"and Tamenund has heard their\nsong.\"\n\nThe sage started, and bent his head aside, as if to catch the fleeting\nsounds of some passing melody.\n\n\"Does Tamenund dream!\" he exclaimed. \"What voice is at his ear! Have\nthe winters gone backward! Will summer come again to the children of the\nLenape!\"\n\nA solemn and respectful silence succeeded this incoherent burst from\nthe lips of the Delaware prophet. His people readily constructed his\nunintelligible language into one of those mysterious conferences he was\nbelieved to hold so frequently with a superior intelligence and they\nawaited the issue of the revelation in awe. After a patient pause,\nhowever, one of the aged men, perceiving that the sage had lost the\nrecollection of the subject before them, ventured to remind him again of\nthe presence of the prisoner.\n\n\"The false Delaware trembles lest he should hear the words of Tamenund,\"\nhe said. \"'Tis a hound that howls, when the Yengeese show him a trail.\"\n\n\"And ye,\" returned Uncas, looking sternly around him, \"are dogs that\nwhine, when the Frenchman casts ye the offals of his deer!\"\n\nTwenty knives gleamed in the air, and as many warriors sprang to their\nfeet, at this biting, and perhaps merited retort; but a motion from one\nof the chiefs suppressed the outbreaking of their tempers, and restored\nthe appearance of quiet. The task might probably have been more\ndifficult, had not a movement made by Tamenund indicated that he was\nagain about to speak.\n\n\"Delaware!\" resumed the sage, \"little art thou worthy of thy name. My\npeople have not seen a bright sun in many winters; and the warrior who\ndeserts his tribe when hid in clouds is doubly a traitor. The law of the\nManitou is just. It is so; while the rivers run and the mountains stand,\nwhile the blossoms come and go on the trees, it must be so. He is thine,\nmy children; deal justly by him.\"\n\nNot a limb was moved, nor was a breath drawn louder and longer than\ncommon, until the closing syllable of this final decree had passed the\nlips of Tamenund. Then a cry of vengeance burst at once, as it might be,\nfrom the united lips of the nation; a frightful augury of their ruthless\nintentions. In the midst of these prolonged and savage yells, a chief\nproclaimed, in a high voice, that the captive was condemned to endure\nthe dreadful trial of torture by fire. The circle broke its order, and\nscreams of delight mingled with the bustle and tumult of preparation.\nHeyward struggled madly with his captors; the anxious eye of Hawkeye\nbegan to look around him, with an expression of peculiar earnestness;\nand Cora again threw herself at the feet of the patriarch, once more a\nsuppliant for mercy.\n\nThroughout the whole of these trying moments, Uncas had alone preserved\nhis serenity. He looked on the preparations with a steady eye, and when\nthe tormentors came to seize him, he met them with a firm and upright\nattitude. One among them, if possible more fierce and savage than his\nfellows, seized the hunting-shirt of the young warrior, and at a single\neffort tore it from his body. Then, with a yell of frantic pleasure,\nhe leaped toward his unresisting victim and prepared to lead him to\nthe stake. But, at that moment, when he appeared most a stranger to the\nfeelings of humanity, the purpose of the savage was arrested as suddenly\nas if a supernatural agency had interposed in the behalf of Uncas. The\neyeballs of the Delaware seemed to start from their sockets; his mouth\nopened and his whole form became frozen in an attitude of amazement.\nRaising his hand with a slow and regulated motion, he pointed with a\nfinger to the bosom of the captive. His companions crowded about him in\nwonder and every eye was like his own, fastened intently on the figure\nof a small tortoise, beautifully tattooed on the breast of the prisoner,\nin a bright blue tint.\n\nFor a single instant Uncas enjoyed his triumph, smiling calmly on the\nscene. Then motioning the crowd away with a high and haughty sweep of\nhis arm, he advanced in front of the nation with the air of a king, and\nspoke in a voice louder than the murmur of admiration that ran through\nthe multitude.\n\n\"Men of the Lenni Lenape!\" he said, \"my race upholds the earth! Your\nfeeble tribe stands on my shell! What fire that a Delaware can light\nwould burn the child of my fathers,\" he added, pointing proudly to the\nsimple blazonry on his skin; \"the blood that came from such a stock\nwould smother your flames! My race is the grandfather of nations!\"\n\n\"Who art thou?\" demanded Tamenund, rising at the startling tones\nhe heard, more than at any meaning conveyed by the language of the\nprisoner.\n\n\"Uncas, the son of Chingachgook,\" answered the captive modestly, turning\nfrom the nation, and bending his head in reverence to the other's\ncharacter and years; \"a son of the great Unamis.\"*\n\n     * Turtle.\n\n\"The hour of Tamenund is nigh!\" exclaimed the sage; \"the day is come,\nat last, to the night! I thank the Manitou, that one is here to fill my\nplace at the council-fire. Uncas, the child of Uncas, is found! Let the\neyes of a dying eagle gaze on the rising sun.\"\n\nThe youth stepped lightly, but proudly on the platform, where he became\nvisible to the whole agitated and wondering multitude. Tamenund held him\nlong at the length of his arm and read every turn in the fine lineaments\nof his countenance, with the untiring gaze of one who recalled days of\nhappiness.\n\n\"Is Tamenund a boy?\" at length the bewildered prophet exclaimed. \"Have\nI dreamed of so many snows--that my people were scattered like floating\nsands--of Yengeese, more plenty than the leaves on the trees! The arrow\nof Tamenund would not frighten the fawn; his arm is withered like the\nbranch of a dead oak; the snail would be swifter in the race; yet is\nUncas before him as they went to battle against the pale faces! Uncas,\nthe panther of his tribe, the eldest son of the Lenape, the wisest\nSagamore of the Mohicans! Tell me, ye Delawares, has Tamenund been a\nsleeper for a hundred winters?\"\n\nThe calm and deep silence which succeeded these words sufficiently\nannounced the awful reverence with which his people received the\ncommunication of the patriarch. None dared to answer, though all\nlistened in breathless expectation of what might follow. Uncas, however,\nlooking in his face with the fondness and veneration of a favored child,\npresumed on his own high and acknowledged rank, to reply.\n\n\"Four warriors of his race have lived and died,\" he said, \"since the\nfriend of Tamenund led his people in battle. The blood of the turtle has\nbeen in many chiefs, but all have gone back into the earth from whence\nthey came, except Chingachgook and his son.\"\n\n\"It is true--it is true,\" returned the sage, a flash of recollection\ndestroying all his pleasing fancies, and restoring him at once to a\nconsciousness of the true history of his nation. \"Our wise men have\noften said that two warriors of the unchanged race were in the hills of\nthe Yengeese; why have their seats at the council-fires of the Delawares\nbeen so long empty?\"\n\nAt these words the young man raised his head, which he had still kept\nbowed a little, in reverence; and lifting his voice so as to be heard\nby the multitude, as if to explain at once and forever the policy of his\nfamily, he said aloud:\n\n\"Once we slept where we could hear the salt lake speak in its anger.\nThen we were rulers and Sagamores over the land. But when a pale face\nwas seen on every brook, we followed the deer back to the river of our\nnation. The Delawares were gone. Few warriors of them all stayed to\ndrink of the stream they loved. Then said my fathers, 'Here will we\nhunt. The waters of the river go into the salt lake. If we go toward\nthe setting sun, we shall find streams that run into the great lakes of\nsweet water; there would a Mohican die, like fishes of the sea, in the\nclear springs. When the Manitou is ready and shall say \"Come,\" we will\nfollow the river to the sea, and take our own again.' Such, Delawares,\nis the belief of the children of the Turtle. Our eyes are on the rising\nand not toward the setting sun. We know whence he comes, but we know not\nwhither he goes. It is enough.\"\n\nThe men of the Lenape listened to his words with all the respect that\nsuperstition could lend, finding a secret charm even in the figurative\nlanguage with which the young Sagamore imparted his ideas. Uncas himself\nwatched the effect of his brief explanation with intelligent eyes, and\ngradually dropped the air of authority he had assumed, as he perceived\nthat his auditors were content. Then, permitting his looks to wander\nover the silent throng that crowded around the elevated seat of\nTamenund, he first perceived Hawkeye in his bonds. Stepping eagerly\nfrom his stand, he made way for himself to the side of his friend; and\ncutting his thongs with a quick and angry stroke of his own knife, he\nmotioned to the crowd to divide. The Indians silently obeyed, and once\nmore they stood ranged in their circle, as before his appearance among\nthem. Uncas took the scout by the hand, and led him to the feet of the\npatriarch.\n\n\"Father,\" he said, \"look at this pale face; a just man, and the friend\nof the Delawares.\"\n\n\"Is he a son of Minquon?\"\n\n\"Not so; a warrior known to the Yengeese, and feared by the Maquas.\"\n\n\"What name has he gained by his deeds?\"\n\n\"We call him Hawkeye,\" Uncas replied, using the Delaware phrase; \"for\nhis sight never fails. The Mingoes know him better by the death he gives\ntheir warriors; with them he is 'The Long Rifle'.\"\n\n\"La Longue Carabine!\" exclaimed Tamenund, opening his eyes, and\nregarding the scout sternly. \"My son has not done well to call him\nfriend.\"\n\n\"I call him so who proves himself such,\" returned the young chief, with\ngreat calmness, but with a steady mien. \"If Uncas is welcome among the\nDelawares, then is Hawkeye with his friends.\"\n\n\"The pale face has slain my young men; his name is great for the blows\nhe has struck the Lenape.\"\n\n\"If a Mingo has whispered that much in the ear of the Delaware, he has\nonly shown that he is a singing-bird,\" said the scout, who now believed\nthat it was time to vindicate himself from such offensive charges,\nand who spoke as the man he addressed, modifying his Indian figures,\nhowever, with his own peculiar notions. \"That I have slain the Maquas\nI am not the man to deny, even at their own council-fires; but that,\nknowingly, my hand has never harmed a Delaware, is opposed to the reason\nof my gifts, which is friendly to them, and all that belongs to their\nnation.\"\n\nA low exclamation of applause passed among the warriors who exchanged\nlooks with each other like men that first began to perceive their error.\n\n\"Where is the Huron?\" demanded Tamenund. \"Has he stopped my ears?\"\n\nMagua, whose feelings during that scene in which Uncas had triumphed may\nbe much better imagined than described, answered to the call by stepping\nboldly in front of the patriarch.\n\n\"The just Tamenund,\" he said, \"will not keep what a Huron has lent.\"\n\n\"Tell me, son of my brother,\" returned the sage, avoiding the dark\ncountenance of Le Subtil, and turning gladly to the more ingenuous\nfeatures of Uncas, \"has the stranger a conqueror's right over you?\"\n\n\"He has none. The panther may get into snares set by the women; but he\nis strong, and knows how to leap through them.\"\n\n\"La Longue Carabine?\"\n\n\"Laughs at the Mingoes. Go, Huron, ask your squaws the color of a bear.\"\n\n\"The stranger and white maiden that come into my camp together?\"\n\n\"Should journey on an open path.\"\n\n\"And the woman that Huron left with my warriors?\"\n\nUncas made no reply.\n\n\"And the woman that the Mingo has brought into my camp?\" repeated\nTamenund, gravely.\n\n\"She is mine,\" cried Magua, shaking his hand in triumph at Uncas.\n\"Mohican, you know that she is mine.\"\n\n\"My son is silent,\" said Tamenund, endeavoring to read the expression of\nthe face that the youth turned from him in sorrow.\n\n\"It is so,\" was the low answer.\n\nA short and impressive pause succeeded, during which it was very\napparent with what reluctance the multitude admitted the justice of the\nMingo's claim. At length the sage, on whom alone the decision depended,\nsaid, in a firm voice:\n\n\"Huron, depart.\"\n\n\"As he came, just Tamenund,\" demanded the wily Magua, \"or with hands\nfilled with the faith of the Delawares? The wigwam of Le Renard Subtil\nis empty. Make him strong with his own.\"\n\nThe aged man mused with himself for a time; and then, bending his head\ntoward one of his venerable companions, he asked:\n\n\"Are my ears open?\"\n\n\"It is true.\"\n\n\"Is this Mingo a chief?\"\n\n\"The first in his nation.\"\n\n\"Girl, what wouldst thou? A great warrior takes thee to wife. Go! thy\nrace will not end.\"\n\n\"Better, a thousand times, it should,\" exclaimed the horror-struck Cora,\n\"than meet with such a degradation!\"\n\n\"Huron, her mind is in the tents of her fathers. An unwilling maiden\nmakes an unhappy wigwam.\"\n\n\"She speaks with the tongue of her people,\" returned Magua, regarding\nhis victim with a look of bitter irony.\n\n\"She is of a race of traders, and will bargain for a bright look. Let\nTamenund speak the words.\"\n\n\"Take you the wampum, and our love.\"\n\n\"Nothing hence but what Magua brought hither.\"\n\n\"Then depart with thine own. The Great Manitou forbids that a Delaware\nshould be unjust.\"\n\nMagua advanced, and seized his captive strongly by the arm; the\nDelawares fell back, in silence; and Cora, as if conscious that\nremonstrance would be useless, prepared to submit to her fate without\nresistance.\n\n\"Hold, hold!\" cried Duncan, springing forward; \"Huron, have mercy! her\nransom shall make thee richer than any of thy people were ever yet known\nto be.\"\n\n\"Magua is a red-skin; he wants not the beads of the pale faces.\"\n\n\"Gold, silver, powder, lead--all that a warrior needs shall be in thy\nwigwam; all that becomes the greatest chief.\"\n\n\"Le Subtil is very strong,\" cried Magua, violently shaking the hand\nwhich grasped the unresisting arm of Cora; \"he has his revenge!\"\n\n\"Mighty ruler of Providence!\" exclaimed Heyward, clasping his hands\ntogether in agony, \"can this be suffered! To you, just Tamenund, I\nappeal for mercy.\"\n\n\"The words of the Delaware are said,\" returned the sage, closing his\neyes, and dropping back into his seat, alike wearied with his mental and\nhis bodily exertion. \"Men speak not twice.\"\n\n\"That a chief should not misspend his time in unsaying what has once\nbeen spoken is wise and reasonable,\" said Hawkeye, motioning to Duncan\nto be silent; \"but it is also prudent in every warrior to consider well\nbefore he strikes his tomahawk into the head of his prisoner. Huron, I\nlove you not; nor can I say that any Mingo has ever received much favor\nat my hands. It is fair to conclude that, if this war does not soon end,\nmany more of your warriors will meet me in the woods. Put it to your\njudgment, then, whether you would prefer taking such a prisoner as that\ninto your encampment, or one like myself, who am a man that it would\ngreatly rejoice your nation to see with naked hands.\"\n\n\"Will 'The Long Rifle' give his life for the woman?\" demanded Magua,\nhesitatingly; for he had already made a motion toward quitting the place\nwith his victim.\n\n\"No, no; I have not said so much as that,\" returned Hawkeye, drawing\nback with suitable discretion, when he noted the eagerness with which\nMagua listened to his proposal. \"It would be an unequal exchange, to\ngive a warrior, in the prime of his age and usefulness, for the best\nwoman on the frontiers. I might consent to go into winter quarters, now\n--at least six weeks afore the leaves will turn--on condition you will\nrelease the maiden.\"\n\nMagua shook his head, and made an impatient sign for the crowd to open.\n\n\"Well, then,\" added the scout, with the musing air of a man who had not\nhalf made up his mind; \"I will throw 'killdeer' into the bargain. Take\nthe word of an experienced hunter, the piece has not its equal atween\nthe provinces.\"\n\nMagua still disdained to reply, continuing his efforts to disperse the\ncrowd.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" added the scout, losing his dissembled coolness exactly in\nproportion as the other manifested an indifference to the exchange,\n\"if I should condition to teach your young men the real virtue of the\nwe'pon, it would smoothe the little differences in our judgments.\"\n\nLe Renard fiercely ordered the Delawares, who still lingered in an\nimpenetrable belt around him, in hopes he would listen to the amicable\nproposal, to open his path, threatening, by the glance of his eye,\nanother appeal to the infallible justice of their \"prophet.\"\n\n\"What is ordered must sooner or later arrive,\" continued Hawkeye,\nturning with a sad and humbled look to Uncas. \"The varlet knows his\nadvantage and will keep it! God bless you, boy; you have found friends\namong your natural kin, and I hope they will prove as true as some you\nhave met who had no Indian cross. As for me, sooner or later, I\nmust die; it is, therefore, fortunate there are but few to make my\ndeath-howl. After all, it is likely the imps would have managed to\nmaster my scalp, so a day or two will make no great difference in\nthe everlasting reckoning of time. God bless you,\" added the rugged\nwoodsman, bending his head aside, and then instantly changing its\ndirection again, with a wistful look toward the youth; \"I loved both you\nand your father, Uncas, though our skins are not altogether of a color,\nand our gifts are somewhat different. Tell the Sagamore I never lost\nsight of him in my greatest trouble; and, as for you, think of me\nsometimes when on a lucky trail, and depend on it, boy, whether there\nbe one heaven or two, there is a path in the other world by which honest\nmen may come together again. You'll find the rifle in the place we hid\nit; take it, and keep it for my sake; and, harkee, lad, as your natural\ngifts don't deny you the use of vengeance, use it a little freely on the\nMingoes; it may unburden griefs at my loss, and ease your mind. Huron, I\naccept your offer; release the woman. I am your prisoner!\"\n\nA suppressed, but still distinct murmur of approbation ran through the\ncrowd at this generous proposition; even the fiercest among the\nDelaware warriors manifesting pleasure at the manliness of the intended\nsacrifice. Magua paused, and for an anxious moment, it might be said,\nhe doubted; then, casting his eyes on Cora, with an expression in which\nferocity and admiration were strangely mingled, his purpose became fixed\nforever.\n\nHe intimated his contempt of the offer with a backward motion of his\nhead, and said, in a steady and settled voice:\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil is a great chief; he has but one mind. Come,\" he\nadded, laying his hand too familiarly on the shoulder of his captive to\nurge her onward; \"a Huron is no tattler; we will go.\"\n\nThe maiden drew back in lofty womanly reserve, and her dark eye kindled,\nwhile the rich blood shot, like the passing brightness of the sun, into\nher very temples, at the indignity.\n\n\"I am your prisoner, and, at a fitting time shall be ready to follow,\neven to my death. But violence is unnecessary,\" she coldly said; and\nimmediately turning to Hawkeye, added: \"Generous hunter! from my soul I\nthank you. Your offer is vain, neither could it be accepted; but still\nyou may serve me, even more than in your own noble intention. Look at\nthat drooping humbled child! Abandon her not until you leave her in the\nhabitations of civilized men. I will not say,\" wringing the hard hand of\nthe scout, \"that her father will reward you--for such as you are above\nthe rewards of men--but he will thank you and bless you. And, believe\nme, the blessing of a just and aged man has virtue in the sight of\nHeaven. Would to God I could hear one word from his lips at this awful\nmoment!\" Her voice became choked, and, for an instant, she was silent;\nthen, advancing a step nigher to Duncan, who was supporting her\nunconscious sister, she continued, in more subdued tones, but in which\nfeeling and the habits of her sex maintained a fearful struggle: \"I need\nnot tell you to cherish the treasure you will possess. You love her,\nHeyward; that would conceal a thousand faults, though she had them. She\nis kind, gentle, sweet, good, as mortal may be. There is not a blemish\nin mind or person at which the proudest of you all would sicken. She\nis fair--oh! how surpassingly fair!\" laying her own beautiful, but less\nbrilliant, hand in melancholy affection on the alabaster forehead of\nAlice, and parting the golden hair which clustered about her brows; \"and\nyet her soul is pure and spotless as her skin! I could say much--more,\nperhaps, than cooler reason would approve; but I will spare you and\nmyself--\" Her voice became inaudible, and her face was bent over the\nform of her sister. After a long and burning kiss, she arose, and with\nfeatures of the hue of death, but without even a tear in her feverish\neye, she turned away, and added, to the savage, with all her former\nelevation of manner: \"Now, sir, if it be your pleasure, I will follow.\"\n\n\"Ay, go,\" cried Duncan, placing Alice in the arms of an Indian girl;\n\"go, Magua, go. These Delawares have their laws, which forbid them to\ndetain you; but I--I have no such obligation. Go, malignant monster--why\ndo you delay?\"\n\nIt would be difficult to describe the expression with which Magua\nlistened to this threat to follow. There was at first a fierce and\nmanifest display of joy, and then it was instantly subdued in a look of\ncunning coldness.\n\n\"The words are open,\" he was content with answering, \"'The Open Hand'\ncan come.\"\n\n\"Hold,\" cried Hawkeye, seizing Duncan by the arm, and detaining him by\nviolence; \"you know not the craft of the imp. He would lead you to an\nambushment, and your death--\"\n\n\"Huron,\" interrupted Uncas, who submissive to the stern customs of his\npeople, had been an attentive and grave listener to all that passed;\n\"Huron, the justice of the Delawares comes from the Manitou. Look at the\nsun. He is now in the upper branches of the hemlock. Your path is short\nand open. When he is seen above the trees, there will be men on your\ntrail.\"\n\n\"I hear a crow!\" exclaimed Magua, with a taunting laugh. \"Go!\" he added,\nshaking his hand at the crowd, which had slowly opened to admit his\npassage. \"Where are the petticoats of the Delawares! Let them send their\narrows and their guns to the Wyandots; they shall have venison to eat,\nand corn to hoe. Dogs, rabbits, thieves--I spit on you!\"\n\nHis parting gibes were listened to in a dead, boding silence, and, with\nthese biting words in his mouth, the triumphant Magua passed unmolested\ninto the forest, followed by his passive captive, and protected by the\ninviolable laws of Indian hospitality.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 31\n\n     \"Flue.--Kill the poys and the luggage! 'Tis expressly\n     against the law of arms; 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery,\n     mark you now, as can be offered in the 'orld.\"\n     --King Henry V.\n\nSo long as their enemy and his victim continued in sight, the multitude\nremained motionless as beings charmed to the place by some power that\nwas friendly to the Huron; but, the instant he disappeared, it became\ntossed and agitated by fierce and powerful passion. Uncas maintained his\nelevated stand, keeping his eyes on the form of Cora, until the colors\nof her dress were blended with the foliage of the forest; when he\ndescended, and, moving silently through the throng, he disappeared in\nthat lodge from which he had so recently issued. A few of the graver and\nmore attentive warriors, who caught the gleams of anger that shot from\nthe eyes of the young chief in passing, followed him to the place he\nhad selected for his meditations. After which, Tamenund and Alice were\nremoved, and the women and children were ordered to disperse. During\nthe momentous hour that succeeded, the encampment resembled a hive of\ntroubled bees, who only awaited the appearance and example of their\nleader to take some distant and momentous flight.\n\nA young warrior at length issued from the lodge of Uncas; and, moving\ndeliberately, with a sort of grave march, toward a dwarf pine that grew\nin the crevices of the rocky terrace, he tore the bark from its body,\nand then turned whence he came without speaking. He was soon followed\nby another, who stripped the sapling of its branches, leaving it a naked\nand blazed* trunk. A third colored the post with stripes of a dark red\npaint; all which indications of a hostile design in the leaders of the\nnation were received by the men without in a gloomy and ominous silence.\nFinally, the Mohican himself reappeared, divested of all his attire,\nexcept his girdle and leggings, and with one-half of his fine features\nhid under a cloud of threatening black.\n\n     * A tree which has been partially or entirely stripped of\n     its bark is said, in the language of the country, to be\n     \"blazed.\" The term is strictly English, for a horse is said\n     to be blazed when it has a white mark.\n\nUncas moved with a slow and dignified tread toward the post, which he\nimmediately commenced encircling with a measured step, not unlike an\nancient dance, raising his voice, at the same time, in the wild and\nirregular chant of his war song. The notes were in the extremes of\nhuman sounds; being sometimes melancholy and exquisitely plaintive,\neven rivaling the melody of birds--and then, by sudden and startling\ntransitions, causing the auditors to tremble by their depth and energy.\nThe words were few and often repeated, proceeding gradually from a sort\nof invocation, or hymn, to the Deity, to an intimation of the warrior's\nobject, and terminating as they commenced with an acknowledgment of his\nown dependence on the Great Spirit. If it were possible to translate the\ncomprehensive and melodious language in which he spoke, the ode might\nread something like the following: \"Manitou! Manitou! Manitou! Thou art\ngreat, thou art good, thou art wise: Manitou! Manitou! Thou art just. In\nthe heavens, in the clouds, oh, I see many spots--many dark, many red:\nIn the heavens, oh, I see many clouds.\"\n\n\"In the woods, in the air, oh, I hear the whoop, the long yell, and the\ncry: In the woods, oh, I hear the loud whoop!\"\n\n\"Manitou! Manitou! Manitou! I am weak--thou art strong; I am slow;\nManitou! Manitou! Give me aid.\"\n\nAt the end of what might be called each verse he made a pause, by\nraising a note louder and longer than common, that was peculiarly\nsuited to the sentiment just expressed. The first close was solemn,\nand intended to convey the idea of veneration; the second descriptive,\nbordering on the alarming; and the third was the well-known and terrific\nwar-whoop, which burst from the lips of the young warrior, like a\ncombination of all the frightful sounds of battle. The last was like the\nfirst, humble and imploring. Three times did he repeat this song, and as\noften did he encircle the post in his dance.\n\nAt the close of the first turn, a grave and highly esteemed chief of the\nLenape followed his example, singing words of his own, however, to music\nof a similar character. Warrior after warrior enlisted in the dance,\nuntil all of any renown and authority were numbered in its mazes. The\nspectacle now became wildly terrific; the fierce-looking and menacing\nvisages of the chiefs receiving additional power from the appalling\nstrains in which they mingled their guttural tones. Just then Uncas\nstruck his tomahawk deep into the post, and raised his voice in a shout,\nwhich might be termed his own battle cry. The act announced that he had\nassumed the chief authority in the intended expedition.\n\nIt was a signal that awakened all the slumbering passions of the nation.\nA hundred youths, who had hitherto been restrained by the diffidence\nof their years, rushed in a frantic body on the fancied emblem of their\nenemy, and severed it asunder, splinter by splinter, until nothing\nremained of the trunk but its roots in the earth. During this moment of\ntumult, the most ruthless deeds of war were performed on the fragments\nof the tree, with as much apparent ferocity as if they were the living\nvictims of their cruelty. Some were scalped; some received the keen and\ntrembling axe; and others suffered by thrusts from the fatal knife. In\nshort, the manifestations of zeal and fierce delight were so great and\nunequivocal, that the expedition was declared to be a war of the nation.\n\nThe instant Uncas had struck the blow, he moved out of the circle, and\ncast his eyes up to the sun, which was just gaining the point, when\nthe truce with Magua was to end. The fact was soon announced by a\nsignificant gesture, accompanied by a corresponding cry; and the whole\nof the excited multitude abandoned their mimic warfare, with shrill\nyells of pleasure, to prepare for the more hazardous experiment of the\nreality.\n\nThe whole face of the encampment was instantly changed. The warriors,\nwho were already armed and painted, became as still as if they were\nincapable of any uncommon burst of emotion. On the other hand, the women\nbroke out of the lodges, with the songs of joy and those of lamentation\nso strangely mixed that it might have been difficult to have said which\npassion preponderated. None, however, was idle. Some bore their choicest\narticles, others their young, and some their aged and infirm, into\nthe forest, which spread itself like a verdant carpet of bright green\nagainst the side of the mountain. Thither Tamenund also retired, with\ncalm composure, after a short and touching interview with Uncas; from\nwhom the sage separated with the reluctance that a parent would quit a\nlong lost and just recovered child. In the meantime, Duncan saw Alice\nto a place of safety, and then sought the scout, with a countenance that\ndenoted how eagerly he also panted for the approaching contest.\n\nBut Hawkeye was too much accustomed to the war song and the enlistments\nof the natives, to betray any interest in the passing scene. He merely\ncast an occasional look at the number and quality of the warriors, who,\nfrom time to time, signified their readiness to accompany Uncas to\nthe field. In this particular he was soon satisfied; for, as has been\nalready seen, the power of the young chief quickly embraced every\nfighting man in the nation. After this material point was so\nsatisfactorily decided, he despatched an Indian boy in quest of\n\"killdeer\" and the rifle of Uncas, to the place where they had deposited\ntheir weapons on approaching the camp of the Delawares; a measure of\ndouble policy, inasmuch as it protected the arms from their own fate,\nif detained as prisoners, and gave them the advantage of appearing among\nthe strangers rather as sufferers than as men provided with means of\ndefense and subsistence. In selecting another to perform the office of\nreclaiming his highly prized rifle, the scout had lost sight of none of\nhis habitual caution. He knew that Magua had not come unattended, and he\nalso knew that Huron spies watched the movements of their new enemies,\nalong the whole boundary of the woods. It would, therefore, have been\nfatal to himself to have attempted the experiment; a warrior would have\nfared no better; but the danger of a boy would not be likely to commence\nuntil after his object was discovered. When Heyward joined him, the\nscout was coolly awaiting the result of this experiment.\n\nThe boy, who had been well instructed, and was sufficiently crafty,\nproceeded, with a bosom that was swelling with the pride of such a\nconfidence, and all the hopes of young ambition, carelessly across\nthe clearing to the wood, which he entered at a point at some little\ndistance from the place where the guns were secreted. The instant,\nhowever, he was concealed by the foliage of the bushes, his dusky form\nwas to be seen gliding, like that of a serpent, toward the desired\ntreasure. He was successful; and in another moment he appeared flying\nacross the narrow opening that skirted the base of the terrace on which\nthe village stood, with the velocity of an arrow, and bearing a prize\nin each hand. He had actually gained the crags, and was leaping up their\nsides with incredible activity, when a shot from the woods showed how\naccurate had been the judgment of the scout. The boy answered it with a\nfeeble but contemptuous shout; and immediately a second bullet was\nsent after him from another part of the cover. At the next instant he\nappeared on the level above, elevating his guns in triumph, while he\nmoved with the air of a conqueror toward the renowned hunter who had\nhonored him by so glorious a commission.\n\nNotwithstanding the lively interest Hawkeye had taken in the fate of his\nmessenger, he received \"killdeer\" with a satisfaction that, momentarily,\ndrove all other recollections from his mind. After examining the piece\nwith an intelligent eye, and opening and shutting the pan some ten or\nfifteen times, and trying sundry other equally important experiments on\nthe lock, he turned to the boy and demanded with great manifestations of\nkindness, if he was hurt. The urchin looked proudly up in his face, but\nmade no reply.\n\n\"Ah! I see, lad, the knaves have barked your arm!\" added the scout,\ntaking up the limb of the patient sufferer, across which a deep flesh\nwound had been made by one of the bullets; \"but a little bruised alder\nwill act like a charm. In the meantime I will wrap it in a badge of\nwampum! You have commenced the business of a warrior early, my brave\nboy, and are likely to bear a plenty of honorable scars to your grave.\nI know many young men that have taken scalps who cannot show such a mark\nas this. Go!\" having bound up the arm; \"you will be a chief!\"\n\nThe lad departed, prouder of his flowing blood than the vainest courtier\ncould be of his blushing ribbon; and stalked among the fellows of his\nage, an object of general admiration and envy.\n\nBut, in a moment of so many serious and important duties, this single\nact of juvenile fortitude did not attract the general notice and\ncommendation it would have received under milder auspices. It had,\nhowever, served to apprise the Delawares of the position and the\nintentions of their enemies. Accordingly a party of adventurers, better\nsuited to the task than the weak though spirited boy, was ordered to\ndislodge the skulkers. The duty was soon performed; for most of the\nHurons retired of themselves when they found they had been discovered.\nThe Delawares followed to a sufficient distance from their own\nencampment, and then halted for orders, apprehensive of being led into\nan ambush. As both parties secreted themselves, the woods were again as\nstill and quiet as a mild summer morning and deep solitude could render\nthem.\n\nThe calm but still impatient Uncas now collected his chiefs, and divided\nhis power. He presented Hawkeye as a warrior, often tried, and always\nfound deserving of confidence. When he found his friend met with a\nfavorable reception, he bestowed on him the command of twenty men,\nlike himself, active, skillful and resolute. He gave the Delawares to\nunderstand the rank of Heyward among the troops of the Yengeese, and\nthen tendered to him a trust of equal authority. But Duncan declined the\ncharge, professing his readiness to serve as a volunteer by the side of\nthe scout. After this disposition, the young Mohican appointed various\nnative chiefs to fill the different situations of responsibility, and,\nthe time pressing, he gave forth the word to march. He was cheerfully,\nbut silently obeyed by more than two hundred men.\n\nTheir entrance into the forest was perfectly unmolested; nor did they\nencounter any living objects that could either give the alarm, or\nfurnish the intelligence they needed, until they came upon the lairs of\ntheir own scouts. Here a halt was ordered, and the chiefs were assembled\nto hold a \"whispering council.\"\n\nAt this meeting divers plans of operation were suggested, though none\nof a character to meet the wishes of their ardent leader. Had Uncas\nfollowed the promptings of his own inclinations, he would have led his\nfollowers to the charge without a moment's delay, and put the conflict\nto the hazard of an instant issue; but such a course would have been in\nopposition to all the received practises and opinions of his countrymen.\nHe was, therefore, fain to adopt a caution that in the present temper of\nhis mind he execrated, and to listen to advice at which his fiery\nspirit chafed, under the vivid recollection of Cora's danger and Magua's\ninsolence.\n\nAfter an unsatisfactory conference of many minutes, a solitary\nindividual was seen advancing from the side of the enemy, with such\napparent haste, as to induce the belief he might be a messenger charged\nwith pacific overtures. When within a hundred yards, however, of the\ncover behind which the Delaware council had assembled, the stranger\nhesitated, appeared uncertain what course to take, and finally halted.\nAll eyes were turned now on Uncas, as if seeking directions how to\nproceed.\n\n\"Hawkeye,\" said the young chief, in a low voice, \"he must never speak to\nthe Hurons again.\"\n\n\"His time has come,\" said the laconic scout, thrusting the long barrel\nof his rifle through the leaves, and taking his deliberate and fatal\naim. But, instead of pulling the trigger, he lowered the muzzle again,\nand indulged himself in a fit of his peculiar mirth. \"I took the imp for\na Mingo, as I'm a miserable sinner!\" he said; \"but when my eye ranged\nalong his ribs for a place to get the bullet in--would you think it,\nUncas--I saw the musicianer's blower; and so, after all, it is the man\nthey call Gamut, whose death can profit no one, and whose life, if this\ntongue can do anything but sing, may be made serviceable to our own\nends. If sounds have not lost their virtue, I'll soon have a discourse\nwith the honest fellow, and that in a voice he'll find more agreeable\nthan the speech of 'killdeer'.\"\n\nSo saying, Hawkeye laid aside his rifle; and, crawling through the\nbushes until within hearing of David, he attempted to repeat the musical\neffort, which had conducted himself, with so much safety and eclat,\nthrough the Huron encampment. The exquisite organs of Gamut could not\nreadily be deceived (and, to say the truth, it would have been\ndifficult for any other than Hawkeye to produce a similar noise), and,\nconsequently, having once before heard the sounds, he now knew whence\nthey proceeded. The poor fellow appeared relieved from a state of great\nembarrassment; for, pursuing the direction of the voice--a task that to\nhim was not much less arduous that it would have been to have gone up in\nthe face of a battery--he soon discovered the hidden songster.\n\n\"I wonder what the Hurons will think of that!\" said the scout, laughing,\nas he took his companion by the arm, and urged him toward the rear.\n\"If the knaves lie within earshot, they will say there are two\nnon-compossers instead of one! But here we are safe,\" he added, pointing\nto Uncas and his associates. \"Now give us the history of the Mingo\ninventions in natural English, and without any ups and downs of voice.\"\n\nDavid gazed about him, at the fierce and wild-looking chiefs, in mute\nwonder; but assured by the presence of faces that he knew, he soon\nrallied his faculties so far as to make an intelligent reply.\n\n\"The heathen are abroad in goodly numbers,\" said David; \"and, I fear,\nwith evil intent. There has been much howling and ungodly revelry,\ntogether with such sounds as it is profanity to utter, in their\nhabitations within the past hour, so much so, in truth, that I have fled\nto the Delawares in search of peace.\"\n\n\"Your ears might not have profited much by the exchange, had you been\nquicker of foot,\" returned the scout a little dryly. \"But let that be as\nit may; where are the Hurons?\"\n\n\"They lie hid in the forest, between this spot and their village in such\nforce, that prudence would teach you instantly to return.\"\n\nUncas cast a glance along the range of trees which concealed his own\nband and mentioned the name of:\n\n\"Magua?\"\n\n\"Is among them. He brought in the maiden that had sojourned with the\nDelawares; and, leaving her in the cave, has put himself, like a raging\nwolf, at the head of his savages. I know not what has troubled his\nspirit so greatly!\"\n\n\"He has left her, you say, in the cave!\" interrupted Heyward; \"'tis well\nthat we know its situation! May not something be done for her instant\nrelief?\"\n\nUncas looked earnestly at the scout, before he asked:\n\n\"What says Hawkeye?\"\n\n\"Give me twenty rifles, and I will turn to the right, along the stream;\nand, passing by the huts of the beaver, will join the Sagamore and the\ncolonel. You shall then hear the whoop from that quarter; with this wind\none may easily send it a mile. Then, Uncas, do you drive in the front;\nwhen they come within range of our pieces, we will give them a blow\nthat, I pledge the good name of an old frontiersman, shall make their\nline bend like an ashen bow. After which, we will carry the village, and\ntake the woman from the cave; when the affair may be finished with the\ntribe, according to a white man's battle, by a blow and a victory;\nor, in the Indian fashion, with dodge and cover. There may be no great\nlearning, major, in this plan, but with courage and patience it can all\nbe done.\"\n\n\"I like it very much,\" cried Duncan, who saw that the release of Cora\nwas the primary object in the mind of the scout; \"I like it much. Let it\nbe instantly attempted.\"\n\nAfter a short conference, the plan was matured, and rendered more\nintelligible to the several parties; the different signals were\nappointed, and the chiefs separated, each to his allotted station.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 32\n\n     \"But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase,\n     Till the great king, without a ransom paid,\n     To her own Chrysa send the black-eyed maid.\"\n     --Pope.\n\nDuring the time Uncas was making this disposition of his forces, the\nwoods were as still, and, with the exception of those who had met in\ncouncil, apparently as much untenanted as when they came fresh from\nthe hands of their Almighty Creator. The eye could range, in every\ndirection, through the long and shadowed vistas of the trees; but\nnowhere was any object to be seen that did not properly belong to the\npeaceful and slumbering scenery.\n\nHere and there a bird was heard fluttering among the branches of the\nbeeches, and occasionally a squirrel dropped a nut, drawing the startled\nlooks of the party for a moment to the place; but the instant the casual\ninterruption ceased, the passing air was heard murmuring above their\nheads, along that verdant and undulating surface of forest, which spread\nitself unbroken, unless by stream or lake, over such a vast region of\ncountry. Across the tract of wilderness which lay between the Delawares\nand the village of their enemies, it seemed as if the foot of man had\nnever trodden, so breathing and deep was the silence in which it lay.\nBut Hawkeye, whose duty led him foremost in the adventure, knew the\ncharacter of those with whom he was about to contend too well to trust\nthe treacherous quiet.\n\nWhen he saw his little band collected, the scout threw \"killdeer\" into\nthe hollow of his arm, and making a silent signal that he would be\nfollowed, he led them many rods toward the rear, into the bed of a\nlittle brook which they had crossed in advancing. Here he halted, and\nafter waiting for the whole of his grave and attentive warriors to close\nabout him, he spoke in Delaware, demanding:\n\n\"Do any of my young men know whither this run will lead us?\"\n\nA Delaware stretched forth a hand, with the two fingers separated,\nand indicating the manner in which they were joined at the root, he\nanswered:\n\n\"Before the sun could go his own length, the little water will be in\nthe big.\" Then he added, pointing in the direction of the place he\nmentioned, \"the two make enough for the beavers.\"\n\n\"I thought as much,\" returned the scout, glancing his eye upward at the\nopening in the tree-tops, \"from the course it takes, and the bearings of\nthe mountains. Men, we will keep within the cover of its banks till we\nscent the Hurons.\"\n\nHis companions gave the usual brief exclamation of assent, but,\nperceiving that their leader was about to lead the way in person, one\nor two made signs that all was not as it should be. Hawkeye, who\ncomprehended their meaning glances, turned and perceived that his party\nhad been followed thus far by the singing-master.\n\n\"Do you know, friend,\" asked the scout, gravely, and perhaps with a\nlittle of the pride of conscious deserving in his manner, \"that this is\na band of rangers chosen for the most desperate service, and put under\nthe command of one who, though another might say it with a better face,\nwill not be apt to leave them idle. It may not be five, it cannot be\nthirty minutes, before we tread on the body of a Huron, living or dead.\"\n\n\"Though not admonished of your intentions in words,\" returned David,\nwhose face was a little flushed, and whose ordinarily quiet and\nunmeaning eyes glimmered with an expression of unusual fire, \"your men\nhave reminded me of the children of Jacob going out to battle against\nthe Shechemites, for wickedly aspiring to wedlock with a woman of a race\nthat was favored of the Lord. Now, I have journeyed far, and sojourned\nmuch in good and evil with the maiden ye seek; and, though not a man\nof war, with my loins girded and my sword sharpened, yet would I gladly\nstrike a blow in her behalf.\"\n\nThe scout hesitated, as if weighing the chances of such a strange\nenlistment in his mind before he answered:\n\n\"You know not the use of any we'pon. You carry no rifle; and believe me,\nwhat the Mingoes take they will freely give again.\"\n\n\"Though not a vaunting and bloodily disposed Goliath,\" returned David,\ndrawing a sling from beneath his parti-colored and uncouth attire, \"I\nhave not forgotten the example of the Jewish boy. With this ancient\ninstrument of war have I practised much in my youth, and peradventure\nthe skill has not entirely departed from me.\"\n\n\"Ay!\" said Hawkeye, considering the deer-skin thong and apron, with a\ncold and discouraging eye; \"the thing might do its work among arrows, or\neven knives; but these Mengwe have been furnished by the Frenchers with\na good grooved barrel a man. However, it seems to be your gift to go\nunharmed amid fire; and as you have hitherto been favored--major, you\nhave left your rifle at a cock; a single shot before the time would be\njust twenty scalps lost to no purpose--singer, you can follow; we may\nfind use for you in the shoutings.\"\n\n\"I thank you, friend,\" returned David, supplying himself, like his royal\nnamesake, from among the pebbles of the brook; \"though not given to\nthe desire to kill, had you sent me away my spirit would have been\ntroubled.\"\n\n\"Remember,\" added the scout, tapping his own head significantly on that\nspot where Gamut was yet sore, \"we come to fight, and not to musickate.\nUntil the general whoop is given, nothing speaks but the rifle.\"\n\nDavid nodded, as much to signify his acquiescence with the terms; and\nthen Hawkeye, casting another observant glance over his followers made\nthe signal to proceed.\n\nTheir route lay, for the distance of a mile, along the bed of the\nwater-course. Though protected from any great danger of observation by\nthe precipitous banks, and the thick shrubbery which skirted the stream,\nno precaution known to an Indian attack was neglected. A warrior rather\ncrawled than walked on each flank so as to catch occasional glimpses\ninto the forest; and every few minutes the band came to a halt, and\nlistened for hostile sounds, with an acuteness of organs that would be\nscarcely conceivable to a man in a less natural state. Their march was,\nhowever, unmolested, and they reached the point where the lesser stream\nwas lost in the greater, without the smallest evidence that their\nprogress had been noted. Here the scout again halted, to consult the\nsigns of the forest.\n\n\"We are likely to have a good day for a fight,\" he said, in English,\naddressing Heyward, and glancing his eyes upward at the clouds, which\nbegan to move in broad sheets across the firmament; \"a bright sun and a\nglittering barrel are no friends to true sight. Everything is favorable;\nthey have the wind, which will bring down their noises and their smoke,\ntoo, no little matter in itself; whereas, with us it will be first\na shot, and then a clear view. But here is an end to our cover; the\nbeavers have had the range of this stream for hundreds of years, and\nwhat atween their food and their dams, there is, as you see, many a\ngirdled stub, but few living trees.\"\n\nHawkeye had, in truth, in these few words, given no bad description of\nthe prospect that now lay in their front. The brook was irregular in its\nwidth, sometimes shooting through narrow fissures in the rocks, and at\nothers spreading over acres of bottom land, forming little areas that\nmight be termed ponds. Everywhere along its bands were the moldering\nrelics of dead trees, in all the stages of decay, from those that\ngroaned on their tottering trunks to such as had recently been robbed of\nthose rugged coats that so mysteriously contain their principle of life.\nA few long, low, and moss-covered piles were scattered among them, like\nthe memorials of a former and long-departed generation.\n\nAll these minute particulars were noted by the scout, with a gravity and\ninterest that they probably had never before attracted. He knew that\nthe Huron encampment lay a short half mile up the brook; and, with\nthe characteristic anxiety of one who dreaded a hidden danger, he was\ngreatly troubled at not finding the smallest trace of the presence of\nhis enemy. Once or twice he felt induced to give the order for a rush,\nand to attempt the village by surprise; but his experience quickly\nadmonished him of the danger of so useless an experiment. Then he\nlistened intently, and with painful uncertainty, for the sounds of\nhostility in the quarter where Uncas was left; but nothing was audible\nexcept the sighing of the wind, that began to sweep over the bosom of\nthe forest in gusts which threatened a tempest. At length, yielding\nrather to his unusual impatience than taking counsel from his knowledge,\nhe determined to bring matters to an issue, by unmasking his force, and\nproceeding cautiously, but steadily, up the stream.\n\nThe scout had stood, while making his observations, sheltered by a\nbrake, and his companions still lay in the bed of the ravine, through\nwhich the smaller stream debouched; but on hearing his low, though\nintelligible, signal the whole party stole up the bank, like so many\ndark specters, and silently arranged themselves around him. Pointing in\nthe direction he wished to proceed, Hawkeye advanced, the band breaking\noff in single files, and following so accurately in his footsteps, as to\nleave it, if we except Heyward and David, the trail of but a single man.\n\nThe party was, however, scarcely uncovered before a volley from a dozen\nrifles was heard in their rear; and a Delaware leaping high in to the\nair, like a wounded deer, fell at his whole length, dead.\n\n\"Ah, I feared some deviltry like this!\" exclaimed the scout, in English,\nadding, with the quickness of thought, in his adopted tongue: \"To cover,\nmen, and charge!\"\n\nThe band dispersed at the word, and before Heyward had well recovered\nfrom his surprise, he found himself standing alone with David. Luckily\nthe Hurons had already fallen back, and he was safe from their fire. But\nthis state of things was evidently to be of short continuance; for the\nscout set the example of pressing on their retreat, by discharging his\nrifle, and darting from tree to tree as his enemy slowly yielded ground.\n\nIt would seem that the assault had been made by a very small party of\nthe Hurons, which, however, continued to increase in numbers, as it\nretired on its friends, until the return fire was very nearly, if not\nquite, equal to that maintained by the advancing Delawares. Heyward\nthrew himself among the combatants, and imitating the necessary caution\nof his companions, he made quick discharges with his own rifle. The\ncontest now grew warm and stationary. Few were injured, as both parties\nkept their bodies as much protected as possible by the trees; never,\nindeed, exposing any part of their persons except in the act of taking\naim. But the chances were gradually growing unfavorable to Hawkeye and\nhis band. The quick-sighted scout perceived his danger without knowing\nhow to remedy it. He saw it was more dangerous to retreat than to\nmaintain his ground: while he found his enemy throwing out men on his\nflank; which rendered the task of keeping themselves covered so very\ndifficult to the Delawares, as nearly to silence their fire. At this\nembarrassing moment, when they began to think the whole of the hostile\ntribe was gradually encircling them, they heard the yell of combatants\nand the rattling of arms echoing under the arches of the wood at the\nplace where Uncas was posted, a bottom which, in a manner, lay beneath\nthe ground on which Hawkeye and his party were contending.\n\nThe effects of this attack were instantaneous, and to the scout and his\nfriends greatly relieving. It would seem that, while his own surprise\nhad been anticipated, and had consequently failed, the enemy, in their\nturn, having been deceived in its object and in his numbers, had left\ntoo small a force to resist the impetuous onset of the young Mohican.\nThis fact was doubly apparent, by the rapid manner in which the battle\nin the forest rolled upward toward the village, and by an instant\nfalling off in the number of their assailants, who rushed to assist in\nmaintaining the front, and, as it now proved to be, the principal point\nof defense.\n\nAnimating his followers by his voice, and his own example, Hawkeye then\ngave the word to bear down upon their foes. The charge, in that rude\nspecies of warfare, consisted merely in pushing from cover to cover,\nnigher to the enemy; and in this maneuver he was instantly and\nsuccessfully obeyed. The Hurons were compelled to withdraw, and the\nscene of the contest rapidly changed from the more open ground, on which\nit had commenced, to a spot where the assailed found a thicket to\nrest upon. Here the struggle was protracted, arduous and seemingly of\ndoubtful issue; the Delawares, though none of them fell, beginning to\nbleed freely, in consequence of the disadvantage at which they were\nheld.\n\nIn this crisis, Hawkeye found means to get behind the same tree as that\nwhich served for a cover to Heyward; most of his own combatants being\nwithin call, a little on his right, where they maintained rapid, though\nfruitless, discharges on their sheltered enemies.\n\n\"You are a young man, major,\" said the scout, dropping the butt of\n\"killdeer\" to the earth, and leaning on the barrel, a little fatigued\nwith his previous industry; \"and it may be your gift to lead armies,\nat some future day, ag'in these imps, the Mingoes. You may here see the\nphilosophy of an Indian fight. It consists mainly in ready hand, a quick\neye and a good cover. Now, if you had a company of the Royal Americans\nhere, in what manner would you set them to work in this business?\"\n\n\"The bayonet would make a road.\"\n\n\"Ay, there is white reason in what you say; but a man must ask himself,\nin this wilderness, how many lives he can spare. No--horse*,\" continued\nthe scout, shaking his head, like one who mused; \"horse, I am ashamed to\nsay must sooner or later decide these scrimmages. The brutes are better\nthan men, and to horse must we come at last. Put a shodden hoof on the\nmoccasin of a red-skin, and, if his rifle be once emptied, he will never\nstop to load it again.\"\n\n     * The American forest admits of the passage of horses, there\n     being little underbrush, and few tangled brakes. The plan of\n     Hawkeye is the one which has always proved the most\n     successful in the battles between the whites and the\n     Indians. Wayne, in his celebrated campaign on the Miami,\n     received the fire of his enemies in line; and then causing\n     his dragoons to wheel round his flanks, the Indians were\n     driven from their covers before they had time to load. One\n     of the most conspicuous of the chiefs who fought in the\n     battle of Miami assured the writer, that the red men could\n     not fight the warriors with \"long knives and leather\n     stockings\"; meaning the dragoons with their sabers and\n     boots.\n\n\"This is a subject that might better be discussed at another time,\"\nreturned Heyward; \"shall we charge?\"\n\n\"I see no contradiction to the gifts of any man in passing his breathing\nspells in useful reflections,\" the scout replied. \"As to rush, I little\nrelish such a measure; for a scalp or two must be thrown away in the\nattempt. And yet,\" he added, bending his head aside, to catch the sounds\nof the distant combat, \"if we are to be of use to Uncas, these knaves in\nour front must be got rid of.\"\n\nThen, turning with a prompt and decided air, he called aloud to his\nIndians, in their own language. His words were answered by a shout;\nand, at a given signal, each warrior made a swift movement around his\nparticular tree. The sight of so many dark bodies, glancing before their\neyes at the same instant, drew a hasty and consequently an ineffectual\nfire from the Hurons. Without stopping to breathe, the Delawares leaped\nin long bounds toward the wood, like so many panthers springing upon\ntheir prey. Hawkeye was in front, brandishing his terrible rifle and\nanimating his followers by his example. A few of the older and more\ncunning Hurons, who had not been deceived by the artifice which had been\npracticed to draw their fire, now made a close and deadly discharge of\ntheir pieces and justified the apprehensions of the scout by felling\nthree of his foremost warriors. But the shock was insufficient to repel\nthe impetus of the charge. The Delawares broke into the cover with the\nferocity of their natures and swept away every trace of resistance by\nthe fury of the onset.\n\nThe combat endured only for an instant, hand to hand, and then the\nassailed yielded ground rapidly, until they reached the opposite\nmargin of the thicket, where they clung to the cover, with the sort of\nobstinacy that is so often witnessed in hunted brutes. At this critical\nmoment, when the success of the struggle was again becoming doubtful,\nthe crack of a rifle was heard behind the Hurons, and a bullet came\nwhizzing from among some beaver lodges, which were situated in the\nclearing, in their rear, and was followed by the fierce and appalling\nyell of the war-whoop.\n\n\"There speaks the Sagamore!\" shouted Hawkeye, answering the cry with his\nown stentorian voice; \"we have them now in face and back!\"\n\nThe effect on the Hurons was instantaneous. Discouraged by an assault\nfrom a quarter that left them no opportunity for cover, the warriors\nuttered a common yell of disappointment, and breaking off in a\nbody, they spread themselves across the opening, heedless of every\nconsideration but flight. Many fell, in making the experiment, under the\nbullets and the blows of the pursuing Delawares.\n\nWe shall not pause to detail the meeting between the scout and\nChingachgook, or the more touching interview that Duncan held with\nMunro. A few brief and hurried words served to explain the state of\nthings to both parties; and then Hawkeye, pointing out the Sagamore to\nhis band, resigned the chief authority into the hands of the Mohican\nchief. Chingachgook assumed the station to which his birth and\nexperience gave him so distinguished a claim, with the grave dignity\nthat always gives force to the mandates of a native warrior. Following\nthe footsteps of the scout, he led the party back through the thicket,\nhis men scalping the fallen Hurons and secreting the bodies of their own\ndead as they proceeded, until they gained a point where the former was\ncontent to make a halt.\n\nThe warriors, who had breathed themselves freely in the preceding\nstruggle, were now posted on a bit of level ground, sprinkled with\ntrees in sufficient numbers to conceal them. The land fell away rather\nprecipitately in front, and beneath their eyes stretched, for several\nmiles, a narrow, dark, and wooded vale. It was through this dense and\ndark forest that Uncas was still contending with the main body of the\nHurons.\n\nThe Mohican and his friends advanced to the brow of the hill, and\nlistened, with practised ears, to the sounds of the combat. A few\nbirds hovered over the leafy bosom of the valley, frightened from their\nsecluded nests; and here and there a light vapory cloud, which seemed\nalready blending with the atmosphere, arose above the trees, and\nindicated some spot where the struggle had been fierce and stationary.\n\n\"The fight is coming up the ascent,\" said Duncan, pointing in the\ndirection of a new explosion of firearms; \"we are too much in the center\nof their line to be effective.\"\n\n\"They will incline into the hollow, where the cover is thicker,\" said\nthe scout, \"and that will leave us well on their flank. Go, Sagamore;\nyou will hardly be in time to give the whoop, and lead on the young men.\nI will fight this scrimmage with warriors of my own color. You know me,\nMohican; not a Huron of them all shall cross the swell, into your rear,\nwithout the notice of 'killdeer'.\"\n\nThe Indian chief paused another moment to consider the signs of the\ncontest, which was now rolling rapidly up the ascent, a certain evidence\nthat the Delawares triumphed; nor did he actually quit the place until\nadmonished of the proximity of his friends, as well as enemies, by the\nbullets of the former, which began to patter among the dried leaves on\nthe ground, like the bits of falling hail which precede the bursting of\nthe tempest. Hawkeye and his three companions withdrew a few paces to\na shelter, and awaited the issue with calmness that nothing but great\npractise could impart in such a scene.\n\nIt was not long before the reports of the rifles began to lose the\nechoes of the woods, and to sound like weapons discharged in the open\nair. Then a warrior appeared, here and there, driven to the skirts of\nthe forest, and rallying as he entered the clearing, as at the place\nwhere the final stand was to be made. These were soon joined by others,\nuntil a long line of swarthy figures was to be seen clinging to\nthe cover with the obstinacy of desperation. Heyward began to\ngrow impatient, and turned his eyes anxiously in the direction of\nChingachgook. The chief was seated on a rock, with nothing visible but\nhis calm visage, considering the spectacle with an eye as deliberate as\nif he were posted there merely to view the struggle.\n\n\"The time has come for the Delaware to strike!\" said Duncan.\n\n\"Not so, not so,\" returned the scout; \"when he scents his friends, he\nwill let them know that he is here. See, see; the knaves are getting in\nthat clump of pines, like bees settling after their flight. By the\nLord, a squaw might put a bullet into the center of such a knot of dark\nskins!\"\n\nAt that instant the whoop was given, and a dozen Hurons fell by a\ndischarge from Chingachgook and his band. The shout that followed was\nanswered by a single war-cry from the forest, and a yell passed through\nthe air that sounded as if a thousand throats were united in a common\neffort. The Hurons staggered, deserting the center of their line, and\nUncas issued from the forest through the opening they left, at the head\nof a hundred warriors.\n\nWaving his hands right and left, the young chief pointed out the enemy\nto his followers, who separated in pursuit. The war now divided, both\nwings of the broken Hurons seeking protection in the woods again, hotly\npressed by the victorious warriors of the Lenape. A minute might have\npassed, but the sounds were already receding in different directions,\nand gradually losing their distinctness beneath the echoing arches of\nthe woods. One little knot of Hurons, however, had disdained to seek a\ncover, and were retiring, like lions at bay, slowly and sullenly up the\nacclivity which Chingachgook and his band had just deserted, to mingle\nmore closely in the fray. Magua was conspicuous in this party, both by\nhis fierce and savage mien, and by the air of haughty authority he yet\nmaintained.\n\nIn his eagerness to expedite the pursuit, Uncas had left himself nearly\nalone; but the moment his eye caught the figure of Le Subtil, every\nother consideration was forgotten. Raising his cry of battle, which\nrecalled some six or seven warriors, and reckless of the disparity of\ntheir numbers, he rushed upon his enemy. Le Renard, who watched the\nmovement, paused to receive him with secret joy. But at the moment when\nhe thought the rashness of his impetuous young assailant had left him\nat his mercy, another shout was given, and La Longue Carabine was seen\nrushing to the rescue, attended by all his white associates. The Huron\ninstantly turned, and commenced a rapid retreat up the ascent.\n\nThere was no time for greetings or congratulations; for Uncas, though\nunconscious of the presence of his friends, continued the pursuit with\nthe velocity of the wind. In vain Hawkeye called to him to respect the\ncovers; the young Mohican braved the dangerous fire of his enemies, and\nsoon compelled them to a flight as swift as his own headlong speed. It\nwas fortunate that the race was of short continuance, and that the white\nmen were much favored by their position, or the Delaware would soon have\noutstripped all his companions, and fallen a victim to his own temerity.\nBut, ere such a calamity could happen, the pursuers and pursued entered\nthe Wyandot village, within striking distance of each other.\n\nExcited by the presence of their dwellings, and tired of the chase, the\nHurons now made a stand, and fought around their council-lodge with\nthe fury of despair. The onset and the issue were like the passage and\ndestruction of a whirlwind. The tomahawk of Uncas, the blows of Hawkeye,\nand even the still nervous arm of Munro were all busy for that passing\nmoment, and the ground was quickly strewed with their enemies. Still\nMagua, though daring and much exposed, escaped from every effort against\nhis life, with that sort of fabled protection that was made to overlook\nthe fortunes of favored heroes in the legends of ancient poetry. Raising\na yell that spoke volumes of anger and disappointment, the subtle chief,\nwhen he saw his comrades fallen, darted away from the place, attended\nby his two only surviving friends, leaving the Delawares engaged in\nstripping the dead of the bloody trophies of their victory.\n\nBut Uncas, who had vainly sought him in the melee, bounded forward in\npursuit; Hawkeye, Heyward and David still pressing on his footsteps. The\nutmost that the scout could effect, was to keep the muzzle of his rifle\na little in advance of his friend, to whom, however, it answered every\npurpose of a charmed shield. Once Magua appeared disposed to make\nanother and a final effort to revenge his losses; but, abandoning his\nintention as soon as demonstrated, he leaped into a thicket of bushes,\nthrough which he was followed by his enemies, and suddenly entered the\nmouth of the cave already known to the reader. Hawkeye, who had only\nforborne to fire in tenderness to Uncas, raised a shout of success, and\nproclaimed aloud that now they were certain of their game. The pursuers\ndashed into the long and narrow entrance, in time to catch a glimpse of\nthe retreating forms of the Hurons. Their passage through the natural\ngalleries and subterraneous apartments of the cavern was preceded by the\nshrieks and cries of hundreds of women and children. The place, seen by\nits dim and uncertain light, appeared like the shades of the infernal\nregions, across which unhappy ghosts and savage demons were flitting in\nmultitudes.\n\nStill Uncas kept his eye on Magua, as if life to him possessed but\na single object. Heyward and the scout still pressed on his rear,\nactuated, though possibly in a less degree, by a common feeling. But\ntheir way was becoming intricate, in those dark and gloomy passages, and\nthe glimpses of the retiring warriors less distinct and frequent; and\nfor a moment the trace was believed to be lost, when a white robe was\nseen fluttering in the further extremity of a passage that seemed to\nlead up the mountain.\n\n\"'Tis Cora!\" exclaimed Heyward, in a voice in which horror and delight\nwere wildly mingled.\n\n\"Cora! Cora!\" echoed Uncas, bounding forward like a deer.\n\n\"'Tis the maiden!\" shouted the scout. \"Courage, lady; we come! we come!\"\n\nThe chase was renewed with a diligence rendered tenfold encouraging\nby this glimpse of the captive. But the way was rugged, broken, and in\nspots nearly impassable. Uncas abandoned his rifle, and leaped forward\nwith headlong precipitation. Heyward rashly imitated his example, though\nboth were, a moment afterward, admonished of his madness by hearing the\nbellowing of a piece, that the Hurons found time to discharge down the\npassage in the rocks, the bullet from which even gave the young Mohican\na slight wound.\n\n\"We must close!\" said the scout, passing his friends by a desperate\nleap; \"the knaves will pick us all off at this distance; and see, they\nhold the maiden so as to shield themselves!\"\n\nThough his words were unheeded, or rather unheard, his example was\nfollowed by his companions, who, by incredible exertions, got near\nenough to the fugitives to perceive that Cora was borne along between\nthe two warriors while Magua prescribed the direction and manner of\ntheir flight. At this moment the forms of all four were strongly drawn\nagainst an opening in the sky, and they disappeared. Nearly frantic with\ndisappointment, Uncas and Heyward increased efforts that already seemed\nsuperhuman, and they issued from the cavern on the side of the mountain,\nin time to note the route of the pursued. The course lay up the ascent,\nand still continued hazardous and laborious.\n\nEncumbered by his rifle, and, perhaps, not sustained by so deep an\ninterest in the captive as his companions, the scout suffered the latter\nto precede him a little, Uncas, in his turn, taking the lead of Heyward.\nIn this manner, rocks, precipices and difficulties were surmounted in\nan incredibly short space, that at another time, and under other\ncircumstances, would have been deemed almost insuperable. But the\nimpetuous young men were rewarded by finding that, encumbered with Cora,\nthe Hurons were losing ground in the race.\n\n\"Stay, dog of the Wyandots!\" exclaimed Uncas, shaking his bright\ntomahawk at Magua; \"a Delaware girl calls stay!\"\n\n\"I will go no further!\" cried Cora, stopping unexpectedly on a ledge\nof rock, that overhung a deep precipice, at no great distance from the\nsummit of the mountain. \"Kill me if thou wilt, detestable Huron; I will\ngo no further.\"\n\nThe supporters of the maiden raised their ready tomahawks with the\nimpious joy that fiends are thought to take in mischief, but Magua\nstayed the uplifted arms. The Huron chief, after casting the weapons\nhe had wrested from his companions over the rock, drew his knife,\nand turned to his captive, with a look in which conflicting passions\nfiercely contended.\n\n\"Woman,\" he said, \"chose; the wigwam or the knife of Le Subtil!\"\n\nCora regarded him not, but dropping on her knees, she raised her eyes\nand stretched her arms toward heaven, saying in a meek and yet confiding\nvoice:\n\n\"I am thine; do with me as thou seest best!\"\n\n\"Woman,\" repeated Magua, hoarsely, and endeavoring in vain to catch a\nglance from her serene and beaming eye, \"choose!\"\n\nBut Cora neither heard nor heeded his demand. The form of the Huron\ntrembled in every fibre, and he raised his arm on high, but dropped\nit again with a bewildered air, like one who doubted. Once more he\nstruggled with himself and lifted the keen weapon again; but just then\na piercing cry was heard above them, and Uncas appeared, leaping\nfrantically, from a fearful height, upon the ledge. Magua recoiled a\nstep; and one of his assistants, profiting by the chance, sheathed his\nown knife in the bosom of Cora.\n\nThe Huron sprang like a tiger on his offending and already retreating\ncountry man, but the falling form of Uncas separated the unnatural\ncombatants. Diverted from his object by this interruption, and maddened\nby the murder he had just witnessed, Magua buried his weapon in the back\nof the prostrate Delaware, uttering an unearthly shout as he committed\nthe dastardly deed. But Uncas arose from the blow, as the wounded\npanther turns upon his foe, and struck the murderer of Cora to his feet,\nby an effort in which the last of his failing strength was expended.\nThen, with a stern and steady look, he turned to Le Subtil, and\nindicated by the expression of his eye all that he would do had not\nthe power deserted him. The latter seized the nerveless arm of the\nunresisting Delaware, and passed his knife into his bosom three several\ntimes, before his victim, still keeping his gaze riveted on his enemy,\nwith a look of inextinguishable scorn, fell dead at his feet.\n\n\"Mercy! mercy! Huron,\" cried Heyward, from above, in tones nearly choked\nby horror; \"give mercy, and thou shalt receive from it!\"\n\nWhirling the bloody knife up at the imploring youth, the victorious\nMagua uttered a cry so fierce, so wild, and yet so joyous, that it\nconveyed the sounds of savage triumph to the ears of those who fought in\nthe valley, a thousand feet below. He was answered by a burst from the\nlips of the scout, whose tall person was just then seen moving swiftly\ntoward him, along those dangerous crags, with steps as bold and reckless\nas if he possessed the power to move in air. But when the hunter reached\nthe scene of the ruthless massacre, the ledge was tenanted only by the\ndead.\n\nHis keen eye took a single look at the victims, and then shot its\nglances over the difficulties of the ascent in his front. A form stood\nat the brow of the mountain, on the very edge of the giddy height,\nwith uplifted arms, in an awful attitude of menace. Without stopping to\nconsider his person, the rifle of Hawkeye was raised; but a rock, which\nfell on the head of one of the fugitives below, exposed the indignant\nand glowing countenance of the honest Gamut. Then Magua issued from a\ncrevice, and, stepping with calm indifference over the body of the last\nof his associates, he leaped a wide fissure, and ascended the rocks at\na point where the arm of David could not reach him. A single bound would\ncarry him to the brow of the precipice, and assure his safety. Before\ntaking the leap, however, the Huron paused, and shaking his hand at the\nscout, he shouted:\n\n\"The pale faces are dogs! the Delawares women! Magua leaves them on the\nrocks, for the crows!\"\n\nLaughing hoarsely, he made a desperate leap, and fell short of his mark,\nthough his hands grasped a shrub on the verge of the height. The form\nof Hawkeye had crouched like a beast about to take its spring, and\nhis frame trembled so violently with eagerness that the muzzle of the\nhalf-raised rifle played like a leaf fluttering in the wind. Without\nexhausting himself with fruitless efforts, the cunning Magua suffered\nhis body to drop to the length of his arms, and found a fragment for his\nfeet to rest on. Then, summoning all his powers, he renewed the attempt,\nand so far succeeded as to draw his knees on the edge of the mountain.\nIt was now, when the body of his enemy was most collected together,\nthat the agitated weapon of the scout was drawn to his shoulder. The\nsurrounding rocks themselves were not steadier than the piece became,\nfor the single instant that it poured out its contents. The arms of the\nHuron relaxed, and his body fell back a little, while his knees still\nkept their position. Turning a relentless look on his enemy, he shook\na hand in grim defiance. But his hold loosened, and his dark person was\nseen cutting the air with its head downward, for a fleeting instant,\nuntil it glided past the fringe of shrubbery which clung to the\nmountain, in its rapid flight to destruction.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER 33\n\n     \"They fought, like brave men, long and well,\n     They piled that ground with Moslem slain,\n     They conquered--but Bozzaris fell,\n     Bleeding at every vein.\n     His few surviving comrades saw\n     His smile when rang their loud hurrah,\n     And the red field was won;\n     Then saw in death his eyelids close\n     Calmly, as to a night's repose,\n     Like flowers at set of sun.\"\n     --Halleck.\n\nThe sun found the Lenape, on the succeeding day, a nation of mourners.\nThe sounds of the battle were over, and they had fed fat their ancient\ngrudge, and had avenged their recent quarrel with the Mengwe, by the\ndestruction of a whole community. The black and murky atmosphere that\nfloated around the spot where the Hurons had encamped, sufficiently\nannounced of itself, the fate of that wandering tribe; while hundreds of\nravens, that struggled above the summits of the mountains, or swept, in\nnoisy flocks, across the wide ranges of the woods, furnished a frightful\ndirection to the scene of the combat. In short, any eye at all practised\nin the signs of a frontier warfare might easily have traced all those\nunerring evidences of the ruthless results which attend an Indian\nvengeance.\n\nStill, the sun rose on the Lenape a nation of mourners. No shouts\nof success, no songs of triumph, were heard, in rejoicings for their\nvictory. The latest straggler had returned from his fell employment,\nonly to strip himself of the terrific emblems of his bloody calling,\nand to join in the lamentations of his countrymen, as a stricken people.\nPride and exultation were supplanted by humility, and the fiercest\nof human passions was already succeeded by the most profound and\nunequivocal demonstrations of grief.\n\nThe lodges were deserted; but a broad belt of earnest faces encircled a\nspot in their vicinity, whither everything possessing life had repaired,\nand where all were now collected, in deep and awful silence. Though\nbeings of every rank and age, of both sexes, and of all pursuits, had\nunited to form this breathing wall of bodies, they were influenced by a\nsingle emotion. Each eye was riveted on the center of that ring, which\ncontained the objects of so much and of so common an interest.\n\nSix Delaware girls, with their long, dark, flowing tresses falling\nloosely across their bosoms, stood apart, and only gave proof of their\nexistence as they occasionally strewed sweet-scented herbs and forest\nflowers on a litter of fragrant plants that, under a pall of Indian\nrobes, supported all that now remained of the ardent, high-souled,\nand generous Cora. Her form was concealed in many wrappers of the same\nsimple manufacture, and her face was shut forever from the gaze of\nmen. At her feet was seated the desolate Munro. His aged head was\nbowed nearly to the earth, in compelled submission to the stroke of\nProvidence; but a hidden anguish struggled about his furrowed brow,\nthat was only partially concealed by the careless locks of gray that\nhad fallen, neglected, on his temples. Gamut stood at his side, his\nmeek head bared to the rays of the sun, while his eyes, wandering and\nconcerned, seemed to be equally divided between that little volume,\nwhich contained so many quaint but holy maxims, and the being in whose\nbehalf his soul yearned to administer consolation. Heyward was also\nnigh, supporting himself against a tree, and endeavoring to keep down\nthose sudden risings of sorrow that it required his utmost manhood to\nsubdue.\n\nBut sad and melancholy as this group may easily be imagined, it was far\nless touching than another, that occupied the opposite space of the same\narea. Seated, as in life, with his form and limbs arranged in grave and\ndecent composure, Uncas appeared, arrayed in the most gorgeous ornaments\nthat the wealth of the tribe could furnish. Rich plumes nodded above\nhis head; wampum, gorgets, bracelets, and medals, adorned his person\nin profusion; though his dull eye and vacant lineaments too strongly\ncontradicted the idle tale of pride they would convey.\n\nDirectly in front of the corpse Chingachgook was placed, without arms,\npaint or adornment of any sort, except the bright blue blazonry of his\nrace, that was indelibly impressed on his naked bosom. During the long\nperiod that the tribe had thus been collected, the Mohican warrior had\nkept a steady, anxious look on the cold and senseless countenance of his\nson. So riveted and intense had been that gaze, and so changeless his\nattitude, that a stranger might not have told the living from the dead,\nbut for the occasional gleamings of a troubled spirit, that shot athwart\nthe dark visage of one, and the deathlike calm that had forever settled\non the lineaments of the other. The scout was hard by, leaning in a\npensive posture on his own fatal and avenging weapon; while Tamenund,\nsupported by the elders of his nation, occupied a high place at hand,\nwhence he might look down on the mute and sorrowful assemblage of his\npeople.\n\nJust within the inner edge of the circle stood a soldier, in the\nmilitary attire of a strange nation; and without it was his warhorse, in\nthe center of a collection of mounted domestics, seemingly in readiness\nto undertake some distant journey. The vestments of the stranger\nannounced him to be one who held a responsible situation near the person\nof the captain of the Canadas; and who, as it would now seem, finding\nhis errand of peace frustrated by the fierce impetuosity of his allies,\nwas content to become a silent and sad spectator of the fruits of a\ncontest that he had arrived too late to anticipate.\n\nThe day was drawing to the close of its first quarter, and yet had the\nmultitude maintained its breathing stillness since its dawn.\n\nNo sound louder than a stifled sob had been heard among them, nor had\neven a limb been moved throughout that long and painful period, except\nto perform the simple and touching offerings that were made, from time\nto time, in commemoration of the dead. The patience and forbearance of\nIndian fortitude could alone support such an appearance of abstraction,\nas seemed now to have turned each dark and motionless figure into stone.\n\nAt length, the sage of the Delawares stretched forth an arm, and leaning\non the shoulders of his attendants, he arose with an air as feeble as\nif another age had already intervened between the man who had met his\nnation the preceding day, and him who now tottered on his elevated\nstand.\n\n\"Men of the Lenape!\" he said, in low, hollow tones, that sounded like a\nvoice charged with some prophetic mission: \"the face of the Manitou\nis behind a cloud! His eye is turned from you; His ears are shut; His\ntongue gives no answer. You see him not; yet His judgments are before\nyou. Let your hearts be open and your spirits tell no lie. Men of the\nLenape! the face of the Manitou is behind a cloud.\"\n\nAs this simple and yet terrible annunciation stole on the ears of the\nmultitude, a stillness as deep and awful succeeded as if the venerated\nspirit they worshiped had uttered the words without the aid of human\norgans; and even the inanimate Uncas appeared a being of life, compared\nwith the humbled and submissive throng by whom he was surrounded. As the\nimmediate effect, however, gradually passed away, a low murmur of voices\ncommenced a sort of chant in honor of the dead. The sounds were those of\nfemales, and were thrillingly soft and wailing. The words were connected\nby no regular continuation, but as one ceased another took up the\neulogy, or lamentation, whichever it might be called, and gave vent to\nher emotions in such language as was suggested by her feelings and the\noccasion. At intervals the speaker was interrupted by general and loud\nbursts of sorrow, during which the girls around the bier of Cora plucked\nthe plants and flowers blindly from her body, as if bewildered with\ngrief. But, in the milder moments of their plaint, these emblems of\npurity and sweetness were cast back to their places, with every sign\nof tenderness and regret. Though rendered less connected by many and\ngeneral interruptions and outbreakings, a translation of their language\nwould have contained a regular descant, which, in substance, might have\nproved to possess a train of consecutive ideas.\n\nA girl, selected for the task by her rank and qualifications,\ncommenced by modest allusions to the qualities of the deceased warrior,\nembellishing her expressions with those oriental images that the\nIndians have probably brought with them from the extremes of the other\ncontinent, and which form of themselves a link to connect the ancient\nhistories of the two worlds. She called him the \"panther of his tribe\";\nand described him as one whose moccasin left no trail on the dews; whose\nbound was like the leap of a young fawn; whose eye was brighter than\na star in the dark night; and whose voice, in battle, was loud as the\nthunder of the Manitou. She reminded him of the mother who bore him, and\ndwelt forcibly on the happiness she must feel in possessing such a son.\nShe bade him tell her, when they met in the world of spirits, that the\nDelaware girls had shed tears above the grave of her child, and had\ncalled her blessed.\n\nThen, they who succeeded, changing their tones to a milder and still\nmore tender strain, alluded, with the delicacy and sensitiveness of\nwomen, to the stranger maiden, who had left the upper earth at a time\nso near his own departure, as to render the will of the Great Spirit too\nmanifest to be disregarded. They admonished him to be kind to her, and\nto have consideration for her ignorance of those arts which were so\nnecessary to the comfort of a warrior like himself. They dwelled upon\nher matchless beauty, and on her noble resolution, without the taint of\nenvy, and as angels may be thought to delight in a superior excellence;\nadding, that these endowments should prove more than equivalent for any\nlittle imperfection in her education.\n\nAfter which, others again, in due succession, spoke to the maiden\nherself, in the low, soft language of tenderness and love. They exhorted\nher to be of cheerful mind, and to fear nothing for her future welfare.\nA hunter would be her companion, who knew how to provide for her\nsmallest wants; and a warrior was at her side who was able to protect\nhe against every danger. They promised that her path should be pleasant,\nand her burden light. They cautioned her against unavailing regrets for\nthe friends of her youth, and the scenes where her father had dwelt;\nassuring her that the \"blessed hunting grounds of the Lenape,\" contained\nvales as pleasant, streams as pure; and flowers as sweet, as the \"heaven\nof the pale faces.\" They advised her to be attentive to the wants of her\ncompanion, and never to forget the distinction which the Manitou had so\nwisely established between them. Then, in a wild burst of their chant\nthey sang with united voices the temper of the Mohican's mind. They\npronounced him noble, manly and generous; all that became a warrior, and\nall that a maid might love. Clothing their ideas in the most remote\nand subtle images, they betrayed, that, in the short period of their\nintercourse, they had discovered, with the intuitive perception of their\nsex, the truant disposition of his inclinations. The Delaware girls had\nfound no favor in his eyes! He was of a race that had once been lords on\nthe shores of the salt lake, and his wishes had led him back to a\npeople who dwelt about the graves of his fathers. Why should not such\na predilection be encouraged! That she was of a blood purer and richer\nthan the rest of her nation, any eye might have seen; that she was\nequal to the dangers and daring of a life in the woods, her conduct\nhad proved; and now, they added, the \"wise one of the earth\" had\ntransplanted her to a place where she would find congenial spirits, and\nmight be forever happy.\n\nThen, with another transition in voice and subject, allusions were\nmade to the virgin who wept in the adjacent lodge. They compared her to\nflakes of snow; as pure, as white, as brilliant, and as liable to melt\nin the fierce heats of summer, or congeal in the frosts of winter. They\ndoubted not that she was lovely in the eyes of the young chief, whose\nskin and whose sorrow seemed so like her own; but though far from\nexpressing such a preference, it was evident they deemed her less\nexcellent than the maid they mourned. Still they denied her no need\nher rare charms might properly claim. Her ringlets were compared to the\nexuberant tendrils of the vine, her eye to the blue vault of heavens,\nand the most spotless cloud, with its glowing flush of the sun, was\nadmitted to be less attractive than her bloom.\n\nDuring these and similar songs nothing was audible but the murmurs of\nthe music; relieved, as it was, or rather rendered terrible, by those\noccasional bursts of grief which might be called its choruses. The\nDelawares themselves listened like charmed men; and it was very\napparent, by the variations of their speaking countenances, how deep and\ntrue was their sympathy. Even David was not reluctant to lend his ears\nto the tones of voices so sweet; and long ere the chant was ended, his\ngaze announced that his soul was enthralled.\n\nThe scout, to whom alone, of all the white men, the words were\nintelligible, suffered himself to be a little aroused from his\nmeditative posture, and bent his face aside, to catch their meaning, as\nthe girls proceeded. But when they spoke of the future prospects of\nCora and Uncas, he shook his head, like one who knew the error of their\nsimple creed, and resuming his reclining attitude, he maintained it\nuntil the ceremony, if that might be called a ceremony, in which feeling\nwas so deeply imbued, was finished. Happily for the self-command of both\nHeyward and Munro, they knew not the meaning of the wild sounds they\nheard.\n\nChingachgook was a solitary exception to the interest manifested by the\nnative part of the audience. His look never changed throughout the whole\nof the scene, nor did a muscle move in his rigid countenance, even at\nthe wildest or the most pathetic parts of the lamentation. The cold and\nsenseless remains of his son was all to him, and every other sense but\nthat of sight seemed frozen, in order that his eyes might take their\nfinal gaze at those lineaments he had so long loved, and which were now\nabout to be closed forever from his view.\n\nIn this stage of the obsequies, a warrior much renowned for deed in\narms, and more especially for services in the recent combat, a man of\nstern and grave demeanor, advanced slowly from the crowd, and placed\nhimself nigh the person of the dead.\n\n\"Why hast thou left us, pride of the Wapanachki?\" he said, addressing\nhimself to the dull ears of Uncas, as if the empty clay retained the\nfaculties of the animated man; \"thy time has been like that of the sun\nwhen in the trees; thy glory brighter than his light at noonday. Thou\nart gone, youthful warrior, but a hundred Wyandots are clearing the\nbriers from thy path to the world of the spirits. Who that saw thee in\nbattle would believe that thou couldst die? Who before thee has ever\nshown Uttawa the way into the fight? Thy feet were like the wings of\neagles; thine arm heavier than falling branches from the pine; and\nthy voice like the Manitou when He speaks in the clouds. The tongue of\nUttawa is weak,\" he added, looking about him with a melancholy gaze,\n\"and his heart exceeding heavy. Pride of the Wapanachki, why hast thou\nleft us?\"\n\nHe was succeeded by others, in due order, until most of the high and\ngifted men of the nation had sung or spoken their tribute of praise over\nthe manes of the deceased chief. When each had ended, another deep and\nbreathing silence reigned in all the place.\n\nThen a low, deep sound was heard, like the suppressed accompaniment of\ndistant music, rising just high enough on the air to be audible, and\nyet so indistinctly, as to leave its character, and the place whence it\nproceeded, alike matters of conjecture. It was, however, succeeded by\nanother and another strain, each in a higher key, until they grew on the\near, first in long drawn and often repeated interjections, and finally\nin words. The lips of Chingachgook had so far parted, as to announce\nthat it was the monody of the father. Though not an eye was turned\ntoward him nor the smallest sign of impatience exhibited, it was\napparent, by the manner in which the multitude elevated their heads to\nlisten, that they drank in the sounds with an intenseness of attention,\nthat none but Tamenund himself had ever before commanded. But\nthey listened in vain. The strains rose just so loud as to become\nintelligible, and then grew fainter and more trembling, until they\nfinally sank on the ear, as if borne away by a passing breath of wind.\nThe lips of the Sagamore closed, and he remained silent in his seat,\nlooking with his riveted eye and motionless form, like some creature\nthat had been turned from the Almighty hand with the form but without\nthe spirit of a man. The Delawares who knew by these symptoms that\nthe mind of their friend was not prepared for so mighty an effort of\nfortitude, relaxed in their attention; and, with an innate delicacy,\nseemed to bestow all their thoughts on the obsequies of the stranger\nmaiden.\n\nA signal was given, by one of the elder chiefs, to the women who crowded\nthat part of the circle near which the body of Cora lay. Obedient to\nthe sign, the girls raised the bier to the elevation of their heads,\nand advanced with slow and regulated steps, chanting, as they proceeded,\nanother wailing song in praise of the deceased. Gamut, who had been a\nclose observer of rites he deemed so heathenish, now bent his head over\nthe shoulder of the unconscious father, whispering:\n\n\"They move with the remains of thy child; shall we not follow, and see\nthem interred with Christian burial?\"\n\nMunro started, as if the last trumpet had sounded in his ear, and\nbestowing one anxious and hurried glance around him, he arose and\nfollowed in the simple train, with the mien of a soldier, but bearing\nthe full burden of a parent's suffering. His friends pressed around him\nwith a sorrow that was too strong to be termed sympathy--even the young\nFrenchman joining in the procession, with the air of a man who was\nsensibly touched at the early and melancholy fate of one so lovely. But\nwhen the last and humblest female of the tribe had joined in the wild\nand yet ordered array, the men of the Lenape contracted their circle,\nand formed again around the person of Uncas, as silent, as grave, and as\nmotionless as before.\n\nThe place which had been chosen for the grave of Cora was a little\nknoll, where a cluster of young and healthful pines had taken root,\nforming of themselves a melancholy and appropriate shade over the spot.\nOn reaching it the girls deposited their burden, and continued for many\nminutes waiting, with characteristic patience, and native timidity, for\nsome evidence that they whose feelings were most concerned were content\nwith the arrangement. At length the scout, who alone understood their\nhabits, said, in their own language:\n\n\"My daughters have done well; the white men thank them.\"\n\nSatisfied with this testimony in their favor, the girls proceeded\nto deposit the body in a shell, ingeniously, and not inelegantly,\nfabricated of the bark of the birch; after which they lowered it into\nits dark and final abode. The ceremony of covering the remains, and\nconcealing the marks of the fresh earth, by leaves and other natural and\ncustomary objects, was conducted with the same simple and silent forms.\nBut when the labors of the kind beings who had performed these sad and\nfriendly offices were so far completed, they hesitated, in a way to show\nthat they knew not how much further they might proceed. It was in this\nstage of the rites that the scout again addressed them:\n\n\"My young women have done enough,\" he said: \"the spirit of the pale\nface has no need of food or raiment, their gifts being according to the\nheaven of their color. I see,\" he added, glancing an eye at David, who\nwas preparing his book in a manner that indicated an intention to\nlead the way in sacred song, \"that one who better knows the Christian\nfashions is about to speak.\"\n\nThe females stood modestly aside, and, from having been the principal\nactors in the scene, they now became the meek and attentive observers of\nthat which followed. During the time David occupied in pouring out the\npious feelings of his spirit in this manner, not a sign of surprise, nor\na look of impatience, escaped them. They listened like those who knew\nthe meaning of the strange words, and appeared as if they felt the\nmingled emotions of sorrow, hope, and resignation, they were intended to\nconvey.\n\nExcited by the scene he had just witnessed, and perhaps influenced by\nhis own secret emotions, the master of song exceeded his usual efforts.\nHis full rich voice was not found to suffer by a comparison with the\nsoft tones of the girls; and his more modulated strains possessed, at\nleast for the ears of those to whom they were peculiarly addressed,\nthe additional power of intelligence. He ended the anthem, as he had\ncommenced it, in the midst of a grave and solemn stillness.\n\nWhen, however, the closing cadence had fallen on the ears of his\nauditors, the secret, timorous glances of the eyes, and the general\nand yet subdued movement of the assemblage, betrayed that something was\nexpected from the father of the deceased. Munro seemed sensible that the\ntime was come for him to exert what is, perhaps, the greatest effort\nof which human nature is capable. He bared his gray locks, and looked\naround the timid and quiet throng by which he was encircled, with a firm\nand collected countenance. Then, motioning with his hand for the scout\nto listen, he said:\n\n\"Say to these kind and gentle females, that a heart-broken and failing\nman returns them his thanks. Tell them, that the Being we all worship,\nunder different names, will be mindful of their charity; and that the\ntime shall not be distant when we may assemble around His throne without\ndistinction of sex, or rank, or color.\"\n\nThe scout listened to the tremulous voice in which the veteran delivered\nthese words, and shook his head slowly when they were ended, as one who\ndoubted their efficacy.\n\n\"To tell them this,\" he said, \"would be to tell them that the snows come\nnot in the winter, or that the sun shines fiercest when the trees are\nstripped of their leaves.\"\n\nThen turning to the women, he made such a communication of the other's\ngratitude as he deemed most suited to the capacities of his listeners.\nThe head of Munro had already sunk upon his chest, and he was again\nfast relapsing into melancholy, when the young Frenchman before named\nventured to touch him lightly on the elbow. As soon as he had gained the\nattention of the mourning old man, he pointed toward a group of young\nIndians, who approached with a light but closely covered litter, and\nthen pointed upward toward the sun.\n\n\"I understand you, sir,\" returned Munro, with a voice of forced\nfirmness; \"I understand you. It is the will of Heaven, and I submit.\nCora, my child! if the prayers of a heart-broken father could avail thee\nnow, how blessed shouldst thou be! Come, gentlemen,\" he added, looking\nabout him with an air of lofty composure, though the anguish that\nquivered in his faded countenance was far too powerful to be concealed,\n\"our duty here is ended; let us depart.\"\n\nHeyward gladly obeyed a summons that took them from a spot where, each\ninstant, he felt his self-control was about to desert him. While his\ncompanions were mounting, however, he found time to press the hand of\nthe scout, and to repeat the terms of an engagement they had made to\nmeet again within the posts of the British army. Then, gladly throwing\nhimself into the saddle, he spurred his charger to the side of the\nlitter, whence low and stifled sobs alone announced the presence of\nAlice. In this manner, the head of Munro again drooping on his bosom,\nwith Heyward and David following in sorrowing silence, and attended\nby the aide of Montcalm with his guard, all the white men, with the\nexception of Hawkeye, passed from before the eyes of the Delawares, and\nwere buried in the vast forests of that region.\n\nBut the tie which, through their common calamity, had united the\nfeelings of these simple dwellers in the woods with the strangers who\nhad thus transiently visited them, was not so easily broken. Years\npassed away before the traditionary tale of the white maiden, and of\nthe young warrior of the Mohicans ceased to beguile the long nights and\ntedious marches, or to animate their youthful and brave with a desire\nfor vengeance. Neither were the secondary actors in these momentous\nincidents forgotten. Through the medium of the scout, who served for\nyears afterward as a link between them and civilized life, they learned,\nin answer to their inquiries, that the \"Gray Head\" was speedily gathered\nto his fathers--borne down, as was erroneously believed, by his military\nmisfortunes; and that the \"Open Hand\" had conveyed his surviving\ndaughter far into the settlements of the pale faces, where her tears\nhad at last ceased to flow, and had been succeeded by the bright smiles\nwhich were better suited to her joyous nature.\n\nBut these were events of a time later than that which concerns our tale.\nDeserted by all of his color, Hawkeye returned to the spot where his\nsympathies led him, with a force that no ideal bond of union could\ndestroy. He was just in time to catch a parting look of the features of\nUncas, whom the Delawares were already inclosing in his last vestment\nof skins. They paused to permit the longing and lingering gaze of the\nsturdy woodsman, and when it was ended, the body was enveloped, never to\nbe unclosed again. Then came a procession like the other, and the whole\nnation was collected about the temporary grave of the chief--temporary,\nbecause it was proper that, at some future day, his bones should rest\namong those of his own people.\n\nThe movement, like the feeling, had been simultaneous and general. The\nsame grave expression of grief, the same rigid silence, and the same\ndeference to the principal mourner, were observed around the place of\ninterment as have been already described. The body was deposited in an\nattitude of repose, facing the rising sun, with the implements of war\nand of the chase at hand, in readiness for the final journey. An opening\nwas left in the shell, by which it was protected from the soil, for the\nspirit to communicate with its earthly tenement, when necessary; and the\nwhole was concealed from the instinct, and protected from the ravages\nof the beasts of prey, with an ingenuity peculiar to the natives. The\nmanual rites then ceased and all present reverted to the more spiritual\npart of the ceremonies.\n\nChingachgook became once more the object of the common attention. He had\nnot yet spoken, and something consolatory and instructive was expected\nfrom so renowned a chief on an occasion of such interest. Conscious of\nthe wishes of the people, the stern and self-restrained warrior raised\nhis face, which had latterly been buried in his robe, and looked about\nhim with a steady eye. His firmly compressed and expressive lips then\nsevered, and for the first time during the long ceremonies his voice was\ndistinctly audible. \"Why do my brothers mourn?\" he said, regarding the\ndark race of dejected warriors by whom he was environed; \"why do my\ndaughters weep? that a young man has gone to the happy hunting-grounds;\nthat a chief has filled his time with honor? He was good; he was\ndutiful; he was brave. Who can deny it? The Manitou had need of such a\nwarrior, and He has called him away. As for me, the son and the father\nof Uncas, I am a blazed pine, in a clearing of the pale faces. My\nrace has gone from the shores of the salt lake and the hills of the\nDelawares. But who can say that the serpent of his tribe has forgotten\nhis wisdom? I am alone--\"\n\n\"No, no,\" cried Hawkeye, who had been gazing with a yearning look at the\nrigid features of his friend, with something like his own self-command,\nbut whose philosophy could endure no longer; \"no, Sagamore, not alone.\nThe gifts of our colors may be different, but God has so placed us as to\njourney in the same path. I have no kin, and I may also say, like you,\nno people. He was your son, and a red-skin by nature; and it may be that\nyour blood was nearer--but, if ever I forget the lad who has so often\nfou't at my side in war, and slept at my side in peace, may He who made\nus all, whatever may be our color or our gifts, forget me! The boy has\nleft us for a time; but, Sagamore, you are not alone.\"\n\nChingachgook grasped the hand that, in the warmth of feeling, the scout\nhad stretched across the fresh earth, and in an attitude of friendship\nthese two sturdy and intrepid woodsmen bowed their heads together, while\nscalding tears fell to their feet, watering the grave of Uncas like\ndrops of falling rain.\n\nIn the midst of the awful stillness with which such a burst of feeling,\ncoming as it did, from the two most renowned warriors of that region,\nwas received, Tamenund lifted his voice to disperse the multitude.\n\n\"It is enough,\" he said. \"Go, children of the Lenape, the anger of\nthe Manitou is not done. Why should Tamenund stay? The pale faces are\nmasters of the earth, and the time of the red men has not yet come\nagain. My day has been too long. In the morning I saw the sons of Unamis\nhappy and strong; and yet, before the night has come, have I lived to\nsee the last warrior of the wise race of the Mohicans.\""