“Why, any thing: An
honourable murderer, if you will;
For nought I did in
hate, but all in honour.”
--Othello.
The bloody and inhuman
scene which we have rather incidentally mentioned than described, in the close
of the preceding volume, is conspicuous in the pages of colonial history, by
the merited title of “The massacre of William Henry.” It so far deepened the
stain which a previous and very similar event had left upon the reputation of
the French commander, that it was not entirely erased by his early and glorious
death. It is now becoming obscured by time; and thousands, who know that
Montcalm died like a hero on the plains of Abraham, have yet to learn how much
he was deficient in that moral courage, without which no man can be truly
great. Pages might be written to prove, from this illustrious example, the
defects of human excellence; to show how easy it is for generous sentiments,
high courtesy, and chivalrous courage, to lose their influence beneath the
chilling ascendency of mistaken selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man
who was great in all the minor attributes of character, but who was found
wanting, when it became necessary to prove how much principle is superior to
policy. But the task would exceed our fanciful prerogatives; and, as history,
like love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of imaginary
brightness, it is probable that Louis de Saint Véran will be viewed by
posterity only as the gallant defender of his country, while his cruel apathy
on the shores of the Oswego and of the Horican, will be forgotten. Deeply
regretting this weakness on the part of our sister muse, we shall at once
retire from her sacred precincts, within the proper limits of our own humbler
vocation.
The third day from the
capture of the fort was drawing to a close, but the business of the narrative
must still detain the reader on the shores of the “holy lake.” When last seen,
the environs of the works were filled with violence and uproar. They were now,
emphatically, possessed by stillness and death. The blood-stained conquerors
had departed; and their camp, which had so lately rung with the merry
rejoicings of a victorious army, lay a silent and deserted city of huts. The
fortress was a smouldering ruin; charred rafters, fragments of exploded
artillery, and rent mason-work, covering its earthen mounds, in confused and negligent
disorder.
A frightful change had
also occurred in the season. The sun had hid its warmth behind an impenetrable
mass of vapour, and hundreds of human forms, which had blackened beneath the
fierce heats of August, were stiffening in their deformity, before the blasts
of a premature November. The curling and spotless mists, which had been seen
sailing above the hills, towards the north, were now returning in an
interminable dusky sheet, that was urged along by the fury of a tempest. The
crowded mirror of the Horican was gone; and, in its place, the green and angry
waters lashed the shores, as if indignantly casting back its impurities to the
polluted strand. Still, the clear fountain retained a portion of its charmed
influence; but it reflected only the sombre gloom that fell from the impending
heavens. That humid and congenial atmosphere which was wont about the view,
veiling its harshness, and softening its asperities, had disappeared, and the
northern air poured across the waste of water so harsh and unmingled, that
nothing was left to be conjectured by the eye, or fashioned by the fancy.
The fiercer element had
cropped the verdure of the plain, which looked as though it were scathed by the
consuming lightning. But, here and there, a dark green tuft rose in the midst
of the desolation; the earliest fruits of a soil that had been fattened with
human blood. The whole landscape, which, seen by a favouring light, and in a
genial temperature, had been found so lovely, appeared now like some pictured
allegory of life, in which the objects were arrayed in their harshest but
truest colours, and without the relief of any shadowing.
The solitary and arid
blades of grass arose from the passing gusts fearfully perceptible; the bold
and rocky mountains were too distinct in their barrenness, and the eye even
sought relief, in vain, by attempting to pierce the illimitable void of heaven,
which was shut to its gaze, by the dusky sheet of ragged and driving vapour.
The wind blew
unequally; sometimes sweeping heavily along the ground, seeming to whisper its
moanings in the cold ears of the dead, then rising in a shrill and mournful
whistling, it entered the forest with a rush that filled the air with the
leaves and branches it scattered in its path. Amid the unnatural shower, a few
hungry ravens struggled with the gale; but no sooner was the green ocean of
woods, which stretched beneath them, passed, than they gladly stooped, at
random, to that hideous haven, where their revolting food so freely abounded.
In short, it was a
scene of wildness and desolation; and it appeared as if all who had profanely
entered it, had been stricken, at a blow, by the powerful and relentless arm of
death. But the prohibition had ceased; and, for the first time since the
perpetrators of those foul deeds, which had assisted to disfigure the scene,
were gone, living human beings had now presumed to approach the dreary place.
About an hour before
the setting of the sun, on the day already mentioned, the forms of five men
might have been seen issuing from the narrow vista of trees, where the path to
the Hudson entered the forest, and advancing in the direction of the ruined
works. At first their progress was slow and guarded, as though they entered
with reluctance amid the horrors of the spot, or dreaded the renewal of some of
its frightful incidents. A light figure preceded the rest of the party, with
all the caution and activity of a native; ascending every hillock to
reconnoitre, and indicating, by gestures, to his companions, the route he deemed
it most prudent they should pursue. Nor were those in the rear wanting in every
caution and foresight known to forest warfare. One among them, and he also was
an Indian, moved a little on one flank, and watched the neighbouring margin of
the woods, with eyes long accustomed to read the smallest sign of approaching
danger. The remaining three were white, though clad in vestments strikingly
adapted, both in quality and colour, to their present hazardous pursuit; that
of hanging on the skirts of a retiring army, in the wilderness.
The effects produced by
the appalling sights, that constantly arose, in their path to the lake shore,
were as different as the characters of the respective individuals who composed
the party. The youth in front threw serious but furtive glances at the mangled
victims, as he stepped lightly across the plain, afraid to exhibit the natural
emotions he endured, and yet too inexperienced to quell entirely their sudden
and powerful influence. His red associate, however, was superior to such a
weakness. He passed the groupes of dead with a steadiness of purpose, and an
eye so calm, that nothing but long and inveterate practice could enable him to
maintain. The sensations produced in the minds of even the white men, were
different, though uniformly sorrowful. One, whose gray locks and furrowed
lineaments, blending with a martial air and tread, betrayed, in spite of the
disguise of a woodsman’s rough dress, a man long experienced in scenes of war,
was not ashamed to groan aloud, whenever a spectacle of more than usual horror
came under his view. The young man at his elbow shuddered, but seemed to
suppress his feelings in tenderness to his companion. Of them all, the
straggler who brought up the rear, appeared alone to indulge, without fear of
observation or dread of consequences, in the feelings he experienced. But with
him, the offence seemed rather given to the intellectual than to the physical
man. He gazed at the most appalling sight with eyes and muscles that knew not
how to waver, but with execrations so bitter and deep, as to denote how much he
denounced the moral enormity of such a butchery.
The reader will
perceive, at once, in these respective characters, the Mohicans, and their
white friend, the scout; together with Munro and Heyward. It was, in truth, the
father in quest of his children, attended by the youth who felt so deep a stake
in their happiness, and those brave and trusty foresters, who had already
proved their skill and fidelity, through the trying scenes related.
When Uncas, who moved
in front, had reached the centre of the plain, he raised a cry that drew his
companions, in a body, to the spot. The young warrior had halted over a groupe
of females, who lay in a cluster, a confused mass of dead. Notwithstanding the
revolting horror of the exhibition, Munro and Heyward flew towards the
festering heap, endeavouring, with a love that no unseemliness could
extinguish, to discover whether any vestiges of those they sought, were to be
seen among the tattered and many-coloured garments. The father and the lover
found instant relief in the search; though each was condemned again to
experience the misery of an uncertainty, that was hardly less insupportable
than the most revolting truth. They were standing, silent and thoughtful, around
the melancholy pile, when the scout approached. Eyeing the sad spectacle with
an angry and flushed countenance, the sturdy woodsman, for the first time since
entering the plain, spoke intelligibly and aloud.
“I have been on many a
shocking field, and have followed a trail of blood for weary miles,” he said, “but
never have I found the hand of the devil so plain as it is here to be seen!
Revenge is an Indian feeling, and all who know me, know that there is no cross
in my veins; but this much will I say--here, in the face of heaven, and with
the power of the Lord so manifest in this howling wilderness, that should these
Frenchers ever trust themselves again within the range of a ragged bullet,
there is one rifle shall play its part, so long as flint will fire, or powder
burn!--I leave the tomahawk and knife to such as have a natural gift to use
them. What say you, Chingachgook,” he added, in Delaware; “shall the red Hurons
boast of this to their women when the deep snows come?”
A gleam of resentment
flashed across the dark lineaments of the Mohican chief; he loosened his knife
in his sheath; and then turning calmly from the slight, his countenance settled
into a repose as deep as if he never knew the influence or instigations of
passion.
“Montcalm! Montcalm!”
continued the deeply resentful and less self-restrained scout; “they say a time
must come, when all the deeds done in the flesh will be seen at a single look;
and that by eyes cleared from their mortal infirmities. Wo betide the wretch
who is born to behold this plain, with the judgment hanging above his soul!
Ha--as I am a man of white blood, yonder lies a red-skin, without the hair of
his head where nature rooted it! Look to him, Delaware; it may be one of your
missing people; and he should have burial like a stout warrior. I see it in
your eye, Sagamore; a Huron pays for this, afore the fall winds have blown away
the scent of the blood!”
Chingachgook approached
the mutilated form, and turning it over, he found the distinguishing marks of
one of those six allied tribes, or nations, as they were called, who, while
they fought in the English ranks, were so deadly hostile to his own people.
Spurning the loathsome object with his foot, he turned from it with the same
indifference he would have quitted a brute carcass. The scout comprehended the
action, and very deliberately pursued his own way, continuing, however, his
denunciations against the French commander in the same resentful strain.
“Nothing but vast
wisdom and unlimited power should dare to sweep off men in multitudes,” he
added; “for it is only the one that can know the necessity of the judgment; and
what is there short of the other, that can replace the creatures of the Lord? I
hold it a sin to kill the second buck afore the first is eaten; unless a march
in the front, or an ambushment, be contemplated. It is a different matter with
a few warriors in open and rugged fight, for ’tis their gift to die with the
rifle or the tomahawk in hand; according as their natures may happen to be,
white or red. Uncas, come this way, lad, and let the raven settle upon the
Mingo. I know, from often seeing it, that they have a craving for the flesh of
an Oneida; and it is as well to let the bird follow the gift of its natural
appetite.”
“Hugh!” exclaimed the
young Mohican, rising on the extremities of his feet, and gazing intently in
his front, frightening away the raven to some other prey, by the sound and the
action.
“What is it, boy?”
whispered the scout, lowering his tall form into a crouching attitude, like a
panther about to take his leap; “God send it be a tardy Frencher, skulking for
plunder. I do believe ‘kill-deer’ would take an uncommon range to-day!”
Uncas, without making
any reply, bounded away from the spot, and in the next instant was seen tearing
from a bush, and waving, in triumph, a fragment of the green riding veil of
Cora. The movement, the exhibition, and the cry, which again burst from the
lips of the young Mohican, instantly drew the whole party, once more, about
him.
“My child!” said Munro,
speaking quick and wildly; “give me my child!”
“Uncas will try,” was
the short and touching answer.
The simple, but meaning
assurance was lost on the agitated father, who seized the piece of the veil,
and crushed it in his hand, while his eyes roamed fearfully among the adjacent
bushes, as if he equally dreaded and hoped for the secrets they might reveal.
“Here are no dead!”
said Heyward, in a voice that was hollow and nearly stifled by apprehension; “the
storm seems not to have passed this way.”
“That’s manifest; and
clearer than the heavens above our heads,” returned the cool and undisturbed
scout; “but either she, or they that have robbed her, have passed the bush; for
I remember the rag she wore to hide a face that all did love to look upon.
Uncas, you are right; the dark-hair has been here, and she has fled, like a
frighted fawn, to the wood; none who could fly would remain to be murdered! Let
us have a search for the marks she left; for to Indian eyes, I sometimes think
even a humming-bird leaves his trail in the air!”
The young Mohican
darted away at the suggestion, and the scout had hardly done speaking, before
the former raised a cry of success from the margin of the forset. On reaching
the spot, the anxious party perceived another portion of the veil fluttering on
the lower branch of a beech.
“Softly, softly,” said
the scout, extending his long rifle in front of the eager Heyward; “we now know
our work, but the beauty of the trail must not be deformed. A step too soon may
give us hours of trouble. We have them though; that much is beyond denial!”
“Bless ye, bless ye!
worthy man!” exclaimed the agitated father; “whither then have they fled, and
where are my babes?”
“The path they have
taken depends on many chances. If they have gone alone, as they are quite as
likely to move in a circle as straight, they may be within a dozen miles of us;
but if the Hurons, or any of the French Indians, have laid hands on them, ’tis
probable they are now near the borders of the Canadas. But what matters that!”
continued the deliberate scout, observing the powerful anxiety and
disappointment the listeners exhibited; “here are the Mohicans and I on one end
of the trial, and we’ll find the other, though they should be a hundred leagues
asunder! Gently, gently, Uncas, you are as impatient as a man in the
settlements; you forget that light feet leave but faint marks!”
“Hugh!” exclaimed
Chingachgook, who had been occupied in examining an opening that had been
evidently made through the low underbrush, which skirted the forest; and who
now stood erect, as he pointed downwards, in the attitude and with the air of a
man, who beheld a disgusting serpent.
“Here is the palpable
impression of the footstep of a man!” cried Heyward, bending over the indicated
spot; “he has trod in the margin of this pool, and the mark cannot be mistaken.
They are captives!”
“Better so than left to
starve in the wilderness,” returned the scout; “and they will leave a wider
trail. I would wager fifty beaver skins to as many flints, that the Mohicans
and I enter their wigwams within the month! Stoop to it, Uncas, and try what
you can make of that moccasin; for moccasin it plainly is, and no shoe.”
The young Mohican bent
over the track, and removing the scattered leaves from around the place, he
examined it with much of that sort of scrutiny, that a money-dealer, in these
days of pecuniary doubts, would bestow on a suspected due-bill. At length, he
arose from his knees, as if satisfied with the result of the examination.
“Well, boy,” demanded
the attentive scout, “what does it say? can you make any thing of the
tell-tale?”
“Le Renard Subtil!”
“Ha! that rampaging
devil again! there never will be an end of his loping, till ‘kill-deer’ has
said a friendly word to him.”
Heyward reluctantly
admitted the truth of this intelligence, and now expressed rather his hopes,
than his doubts, by saying--
“One moccasin is so
much like another, it is probable there is some mistake.”
“One moccasin like
another! you may as well say that one foot is like another; though we all know,
that some are long, and others short; some broad, and others narrow; some with
high, and some with low, insteps; some in-toed, and some out! One moccasin is
no more like another, than one book is like another; though they who can read
in one, are seldom able to tell the marks of the other. Which is all ordered
for the best, giving to every man his natural advantages. Let me get down to
it, Uncas; neither book nor moccasin is the worse for having two opinions,
instead of one.” The scout stooped to the task, and instantly added, “you are
right, boy; here is the patch we saw so often on the other chase. And the
fellow will drink when he can get an opportunity; your drinking Indian always
learns to walk with a wider toe than the natural savage, it being the gift of a
drunkard, whether of a white or red skin. ’Tis just the length and breadth too!
look at it, Sagamore; you measured the prints more than once, when we hunted
the varments from Glenn’s to the health-springs.
Chingachgook complied,
and after finishing his short examination, he arose, and with a quiet and grave
demeanour, he merely pronounced, though with a foreign accent, the word--
“Magua.”
“Ay, ’tis a settled
thing; here then have passed the dark hair and Magua.”
“And not Alice?”
demanded the startled Heyward.
“Of her we have not yet
seen the signs,” returned the scout, looking closely around at the trees, the
bushes, and the ground. “What have we there! Uncas, bring hither the thing you
see dangling from yonder thorn-bush.”
When the youthful
Indian warrior had complied, the scout received the prize, and holding it on
high, he laughed in his silent but heartfelt manner, before he said--
“’Tis the tooting we’pon
of the singer! now we shall have a trail a priest might travel. Uncas, look for
the marks of a shoe that is long enough to uphold six feet two of tottering
human flesh. I begin to have some hopes of the fellow, since he has given up
squalling, to follow, perhaps, some better trade.”
“At least, he has been
faithful to his trust,” said Heyward; “and Cora and Alice are not without a
friend.”
“Yes,” said Hawk-eye,
dropping his rifle, and leaning on it with an air of visible contempt, “he will
do their singing! Can he slay a buck for their dinner; journey by the moss on
the beeches, or cut the throat of a Huron? If not, the first cat-bird he meets
is the cleverest fellow of the two. Well, boy, any signs of such a foundation?”
“Here is something like
the footstep of one who has worn a shoe,” said Heyward, gladly changing the
discourse from the abuse of David, to whom he now felt the strongest tie of
gratitude; “can it be that of our friend?”
“Touch the leaves
lightly, or you’ll disconsart the formation. That! that, is the print of a
foot, but ’tis the dark hair’s; and small it is, too, for one of such a noble
heighth and grand appearance! The singer would cover it with his heel!”
“Where! let me look on
the footsteps of my child!” said Munro, eagerly shoving the bushes aside, and
bending fondly over the nearly obliterated impression. Though the tread, which
had left the mark, had been light and rapid, it was still very plainly visible.
The aged soldier examined it with eyes that grew dim as he gazed; nor did he
rise from his stooping posture, until Heyward saw that he had watered the
graceful trace of his daughter’s passage, with a scalding and heavy tear.
Willing to divert a distress which threatened, each moment, to break through
the restraint of appearances, by giving the veteran something to do, the young
man said to the scout--
“As we now possess
these infallible signs, let us commence our march. A moment, at such a time,
will appear an age to the captives.”
“It is not the swiftest
leaping deer that gives the longest chase,” returned Hawk-eye, without moving
his eyes from considering the different marks that had come under his view; “we
know that the rampaging Huron has passed--and the dark hair-- and the
singer--but where is she of the yellow locks and blue eyes? Though little, and
far from being as bold as her sister, she is fair to the view, and pleasant in
discourse. Has she no friend, that none care for her?”
“God forbid she should
ever want hundreds! Are we not now in her pursuit? for one, I will never cease
the search till she be found!”
“In that case we may
have to journey by different paths; for here she has not passed, light and
little as her footsteps would be.”
Heyward drew back, all
his ardour to proceed seeming to vanish on the instant. Without attending to
this sudden change in the other’s humour, the scout, after musing a moment,
continued--
“There is no woman in
this wilderness could leave such a print as that, but the dark-hair, or her
sister! We know that the first has been here, but where are the signs of the
other? Let us push deeper on the trail, and if nothing offers, we must go back
to the plain, and strike another scent. Move on, Uncas, and keep your eyes on
the dried leaves. I will watch the bushes, while your father shall run with a
low nose to the ground. Move on, friends; the sun is getting behind the hills.”
“Is there nothing that
I can do?” demanded the anxious Heyward.
“You!” repeated the
scout, who, with his red friends, was already advancing in the order he had
prescribed; “yes, you can keep in our rear, and be careful not to cross the
trail.”
Before they had
proceeded many rods, the Indians stopped, and appeared to gaze at some signs on
the earth, with more than their usual keenness. Both father and son spoke quick
and loud, now looking at the object of their mutual admiration, and now
regarding each other with the most unequivocal pleasure.
“They have found the
little foot!” exclaimed the scout, moving forward, without attending further to
his own portion of the duty. “What have we here! An ambushment has been planted
in the spot! No, by the truest rifle on the frontiers, here have been them
one-sided horses again! Now the whole secret is out, and all is plain as the
north star at midnight. Yes, here they have mounted. There the beasts have been
bound to a sapling, in waiting; and yonder runs the broad path away to the
north, in full sweep for the Canadas.”
“But still there are no
signs of Alice--of the younger Miss Munro,” said Duncan.
“Unless the shining
bauble Uncas has just lifted from the ground, should prove one. Pass it this
way, lad, that we may look at it.”
Heyward instantly knew
it for a trinket, that Alice was fond of wearing, and which he recollected,
with the tenacious memory of a lover, to have seen on the fatal morning of the
massacre, dangling from the fair neck of his mistress. He seized the highly
prized jewel, and as he proclaimed the fact, it vanished from the eyes of the
wondering scout, who in vain looked for it on the ground, long after it was
warmly pressed against the beating heart of Duncan.
“Pshaw!” said the
disappointed Hawk-eye, ceasing to rake the leaves with the breech of his rifle;
“’tis a certain sign of age, when the sight begins to weaken. Such a glittering
gewgaw, and not to be seen! Well, well, I can squint along a clouded barrel
yet, and that is enough to settle all disputes between me and the Mingoes. I
should like to find the thing too, if it were only to carry it to the right
owner, and that would be bringing the two ends of what I call a long trail
together--for by this time the broad St. Lawrence, or perhaps, even the Great
Lakes, are atwixt us.”
“So much the more
reason why we should not delay our march,” returned Heyward; “let us proceed.”
“Young blood and hot
blood, they say, are much the same thing. We are not about to start on a
squirrel hunt, or to drive a deer into the Horican, but to outlie for days and
nights, and to stretch across a wilderness where the feet of men seldom go, and
where no bookish knowledge would carry you through, harmless. An Indian never
starts on such an expedition without smoking over his council fire; and though
a man of white blood, I honour their customs in this particular, seeing that
they are deliberate and wise. We will, therefore, go back, and light our fire
to night in the ruins of the old fort, and in the morning we shall be fresh,
and ready to undertake our work like men, and not like babbling women, or eager
boys.”
Heyward instantly saw,
by the manner of the scout, that altercation would be useless. Munro had again
sunk into that sort of apathy which had beset him since his late overwhelming
misfortunes, and from which he was, apparently, to be roused only by some new
and powerful excitement. Making a merit of necessity, the young man took the
veteran by the arm, and followed in the footsteps of the Indians and the scout,
who had already begun to retrace the path which conducted them to the plain.
Salar. “Why, I am sure, if he
forfeit, thou wilt not take his flesh; what’s that good for?
Shy. “To bait fish withal: if
it will feed nothing else, it will feed my revenge.”
Shakspeare
The shades of evening
had come to increase the dreariness of the place, when the party entered the
ruins of William Henry. The scout and his companions immediately made their
preparations to pass the night there; but with an earnestness and sobriety of
demeanour, that betrayed how much the unusual horrors they had just witnessed,
worked on even their practised feelings. A few fragments of rafters were reared
against a blackened wall; and when Uncas had covered them slightly with brush,
the temporary accommodations were deemed sufficient. The young Indian pointed
impressively toward his rude hut, when his labour was ended; and Heyward, who
understood the meaning of the silent gesture, gently urged Munro to enter.
Leaving the bereaved old man alone with his sorrows, Duncan immediately
returned into the open air, too much excited himself to seek the repose he had
recommended to his veteran friend.
While Hawk-eye and the
Indians lighted their fire, and took their evening’s repast, a frugal mean of
dried bear’s meat, the young man paid a visit to that curtain of the dilapidated
fort, which looked out on the sheet of the Horican. The wind had fallen, and
the waves were already rolling on the sandy beach beneath him, in a more
regular and tempered succession. The clouds, as if tired of their furious
chase, were breaking asunder; the heavier volumes, gathering in black masses
about the horizon, while the lighter scud still hurried above the water, or
eddied among the tops of the mountains, like broken flights of birds, hovering
around their roosts. Here and there, a red and fiery star struggled through the
drifting vapour, furnishing a lurid gleam of brightness to the dull aspect of
the heavens. Within the bosom of the encircling hills, an impenetrable darkness
had already settled, and the plain lay like a vast and deserted charnel-house,
without omen or whisper, to disturb the slumbers of its numerous and hapless
tenants.
Of this scene, so
chillingly in accordance with the past, Duncan stood, for many minutes, a rapt
observer. His eyes wandered from the bosom of the mound, where the foresters
were seated around their glimmering fire, to the fainter light, which still
lingered in the skies, and then rested long and anxiously on the embodied
gloom, which lay like a dreary void on that side of him where reposed the dead.
He soon fancied that inexplicable sounds arose from the place, though so
indistinct and stolen, as to render not only their nature, but even their
existence, uncertain. Ashamed of his apprehensions, the young man turned
towards the water, and strove to divert his attention to the mimic stars, that
dimly glimmered along its moving surface. Still, his too conscious ears
performed their ungrateful duty, as if to warn him of some lurking danger. At
length, a swift trampling seemed, quite audibly, to rush athwart the darkness.
Unable any longer to quiet his uneasiness, Duncan spoke in a low voice to the
scout, requesting him to ascend the mound, to the place where he stood.
Hawk-eye threw his rifle across an arm, and complied, but with an air so
unmoved and calm, as to prove how much he accounted on the security of their
position.
“Listen,” said Duncan,
when the other had placed himself deliberately at his elbow; “there are
suppressed noises on the plain, which may show that Montcalm has not yet
entirely deserted his conquest.”
“Then ears are better
than eyes,” said the undisturbed scout, who having just deposited a portion of
a bear between his grinders, spoke thick and slow, like one whose mouth was
doubly occupied; “I, myself, saw him caged in Ty, with all his host; for your
Frenchers, when they have done a clever thing, like to get back, and have a
dance, or a merry-making, over their success.”
“I know not. An Indian
seldom sleeps in war, and plunder may keep a Huron here, after his tribe has
departed. It would be well to extinguish the fire, and have a watch--Listen!
you hear the noise I mean!”
“An Indian more rarely
lurks about the graves. Though ready to slay, and not over regardful of the
means, he is commonly content with the scalp, unless when blood is hot, and
temper up; but after the spirit is once fairly gone, he forgets his enmity, and
is willing to let the dead find their natural rest. Speaking of spirits, major,
are you of opinion that the heaven of a red-skin, and of us whites, will be one
and the same?”
“No doubt--no doubt. I
thought I heard it again! or was it the rustling of the leaves in the top of
the beech?”
“For my own part,”
continued Hawk-eye, turning his face, for a moment, in the direction indicated
by Heyward, but with a vacant and careless manner, “I believe that paradise is
ordained for happiness; and that men will be indulged in it according to their
dispositions and gifts. I therefore judge, that a red-skin is not far from the
truth, when he believes he is to find them glorious hunting grounds of which
his traditions tell; nor, for that matter, do I think it would be any
disparagement to a man without a cross, to pass his time--”
“You hear it again!”
interrupted Duncan.
“Ay, ay; when food is
scarce, and when food is plenty, a wolf grows bold,” said the unmoved scout. “There
would be picking, too, among the skins of the devils, if there was light and
time for the sport! But, concerning the life that is to come, major. I have
heard preachers say, in the settlements, that heaven was a place of rest. Now
men’s minds differ as to their ideas of enjoyment. For myself, and I say it
with reverence to the ordering of Providence, it would be no great indulgence
to be kept shut up in those mansions of which they preach, having a natural
longing for motion and the chase.”
Duncan, who was now
made to understand the nature of the noises he had heard, answered, with more
attention to the subject which the humour of the scout had chosen for
discussion, by saying--
“It is difficult to
account for the feelings that may attend the last great change.”
“It would be a change
indeed, for a man who has passed his days in the open air,” returned the single
minded scout; “and who has so often broken his fast on the head waters of the
Hudson, to sleep within sound of the roaring Mohawk! But it is a comfort to
know we serve a merciful Master, though we do it each after his fashion, and
with great tracts of wilderness atween us--What goes there?”
“Is it not the rushing
of the wolves, as you have mentioned?”
Hawk-eye slowly shook
his head, and beckoned for Duncan to follow him to a spot, whither the glare
from the fire did not extend. When he had taken this precaution, the scout
placed himself in an attitude of intense attention, and listened, long and
keenly, for a repetition of the low sound that had so unexpectedly startled
him. His vigilance, however, seemed exercised in vain; for, after a fruitless
pause, he whispered to Duncan--
“We must give a call to
Uncas. The boy has Indian senses, and may hear what is hid from us; for, being
a white-skin, I will not deny my nature.”
The young Mohican, who
was conversing in a low voice with his father, started as he heard the meaning
of an owl, and springing on his feet, he looked toward the black mounds, as if
seeking the place whence the sounds proceeded. The scout repeated the call, and
in a few moments, Duncan saw the figure of Uncas stealing cautiously along the
rampart, to the spot where they stood.
Hawk-eye explained his
wishes in a very few words, which were spoken in the Delaware tongue. So soon
as Uncas was in possession of the reason why he was summoned, he threw himself
flat on the turf; where, to the eyes of Duncan, he appeared to lie quiet and
motionless. Surprised at the immovable attitude of the young warrior, and curious
to observe the manner in which he employed his faculties to obtain the desired
information, Heyward advanced a few steps, and bent over the dark object, on
which he had kept his eyes intently riveted. Then it was he discovered that the
form of Uncas had vanished, and that he beheld only the dark outline of an
inequality in the embankment.
“What has become of the
Mohican?” he demanded of the scout, stepping back in amazement; “it was here
that I saw him fall, and I could have sworn that here he yet remained!”
“Hist! speak lower; for
we know not what ears are open, and the Mingoes are a quick-witted breed. As
for Uncas, he is out on the plain, and the Maquas, if any such are about us,
will find their equal.”
“You then think that
Montcalm has not called off all his Indians! Let us give the alarm to our
companions, that we may stand by our arms. Here are five of us, who are not
unused to meet an enemy.”
“Not a word to either,
as you value life! Look at the Sagamore, how like a grand Indian chief he sits
by the fire! If there are any skulkers out in the darkness, they will never
discover, by his countenance, that we suspect danger to be at hand!”
“But they may discover
him, and it will prove his death. His person can be too plainly seen by the
light of that fire, and he will become the first and most certain victim!”
“It is undeniable, that
now you speak the truth,” returned the scout, betraying more of anxiety in his
manner than was usual; “yet what can be done! A single suspicious look might
bring on an attack before we are ready to receive it. He knows, by the call I
gave to Uncas, that we have struck a scent; I will tell him that we are on the
trail of the Mingoes; his Indian nature will teach him how to act.”
The scout then applied
his fingers to his mouth, and raised a low hissing sound, that caused Duncan,
at first, to start aside, believing that he heard a serpent. The head of
Chingachgook was resting on a hand, as he sat musing by himself; but the moment
he heard the warning of the animal whose name he bore, it arose to an upright
position, and his dark eyes glanced swiftly and keenly on every side of him.
With this sudden and perhaps involuntary movement, every appearance of surprise
or alarm was ended. His rifle lay untouched, and apparently unnoticed, within
reach of his hand. The tomahawk that he had loosened in his belt, for the sake
of ease, was even suffered to fall from its usual situation to the ground, and
his form seemed to sink, like that of a man whose nerves and sinews were suffered
to relax for the purpose of rest. Cunningly resuming his former position,
though with a change of hands, as if the movement had been made merely to
relieve the limb, the native awaited the result with a calmness and fortitude,
that none but an Indian warrior would have known how to exercise.
But Heyward saw, that
while to a less instructed eye the Mohican chief appeared to slumber, his
nostrils were expanded, his head was turned a little to one side, as if to
assist the organs of hearing, and that his quick and rapid glances ran
incessantly over every object within the power of his vision.
“See the noble fellow!”
whispered Hawk-eye, pressing the arm of Heyward; “he knows that a look, or a
motion, might disconsart our wisdom, and put us at the mercy of them imps--”
He was interrupted by
the flash and report of a rifle. The air was filled with sparks of fire, around
that spot where the eyes of Heyward were still fastened, with admiration and
wonder. A second look told him, that Chingachgook had disappeared in the
confusion. In the mean time, the scout had thrown forward his rifle, like one
prepared for instant service, and awaited, impatiently, the moment, when an
enemy might rise to view. But with the solitary and fruitless attempt made on
the life of Chingachgook, the attack appeared to have terminated. Once or twice
the listeners thought they could distinguish the distant rustling of bushes, as
bodies of some unknown description rushed through them; nor was it long before
Hawk-eye pointed out the “scampering of the wolves,” as if they fled
precipitately before the passage of some intruders on their proper domains.
After an impatient and breathless pause of several minutes, a plunge was heard
into the water, and was immediately succeeded by the report of another rifle.
“There goes Uncas!”
said the scout; “the boy bears a smart piece! I know its crack, as well as a
father knows the language of his child, for I carried the gun myself until a
better offered.”
“What can this mean!”
demanded Duncan; “we are watched, and, as it would seem, marked for
destruction.”
“Yonder scattered brand
can witness that no good was intended, and this Indian will testify that no
harm has been done,” returned the scout, dropping his rifle coolly across his
arm again, and following Chingachgook, who just then re-appeared within the
circle of light, into the bosom of the works. “How is it, Sagamore! Are the
Mingoes upon us in earnest, or is it only one of those reptyles who hang upon
the skirts of a war party, to scalp the dead, go in, and make their boast among
the squaws of the valiant deeds done on the pale-faces!”
Chingachgook very
quietly resumed his seat, nor did he make any reply, until after he had
examined the firebrand which had been struck by the bullet, that had nearly
proved fatal to himself. After which, he was content to reply, holding a single
finger up to view, with the English monosyllable--
“One.”
“I thought as much,”
returned Hawk-eye, seating himself; “and as he had got the cover of the lake
afore Uncas pulled upon him, it is more than probable the knave will sing his
lies about some great ambushment, in which he was outlying on the trail of two
Mohicans and a white hunter--for the officers can be considered as little
better than idlers in such a skrimmage. Well, let him--let him. There are
always some honest men in every nation, though heaven knows, too, that they are
scarce among the Maquas, to look down an upstart when he brags ag’in the face
of all reason! The varlet sent his lead within whistle of your ears, Sagamore.”
Chingachgook turned a
calm and incurious eye towards the place where the ball had struck, and then
resumed his former attitude, with a composure that could not be disturbed by so
trifling an incident. Just then Uncas glided into the circle, and seated
himself at the fire, with the same appearance of indifference as was maintained
by his father.
Of these several
movements, Heyward was a deeply interested and wondering observer. It appeared
to him as though the foresters had some secret means of intelligence, which had
escaped the vigilance of his own faculties. In place of that eager and
garrulous narration, with which a white youth would have endeavoured to communicate,
and perhaps exaggerate, that which had passed out in the darkness of the plain,
the young warrior was seemingly content to let his deeds speak for themselves.
It was, in fact, neither the moment nor the occasion for an Indian to boast of
his exploits; and it is probable, that had Heyward neglected to inquire, not
another syllable would, just then, have been uttered on the subject.
“What has become of our
enemy, Uncas?” demanded Duncan; “we heard your rifle, and hoped you had not
fired in vain.”
The young chief removed
a fold of his hunting shirt, and quietly exposed the fatal tuft of hair, which
he bore as the symbol of his victory. Chingachgook laid his hand on the scalp,
and considered it for a moment with deep attention. Then dropping it, with powerful
disgust depicted in his strong and expressive features, he exclaimed--
“Hugh! Oneida!”
“Oneida!” repeated the
scout, who was fast losing his interest in the scene, in an apathy nearly
assimilated to that of his red associates, but who now advanced with uncommon
earnestness to regard the bloody badge. “By the Lord, if the Oneidas are
outlying upon our trail, we shall be flanked by devils on every side of us!
Now, to white eyes there is no difference between this bit of skin and that of
any other Indian, and yet the Sagamore declares it came from the poll of a
Mingo; nay, he even names the tribe of the poor devil, with as much ease as if
the scalp was the leaf of a book, and each hair a letter. What right have
christian whites to boast of their learning, when a savage can read a language,
that would prove too much for the wisest of them all! What say you, lad; of
what people was the knave?”
Uncas raised his eyes
to the face of the scout, and answered, in his soft, musical voice--
“Oneida.”
“Oneida again! when one
Indian makes a declaration it is commonly true; but when he is supported by his
people, set it down as gospel!”
“The poor fellow has
mistaken us for French!” said Heyward, “or he would not have attempted the life
of a friend.”
“He mistake a Mohican,
in his paint, for a Huron! You would be as likely to mistake them white coated
grenadiers of Montcalm, for the scarlet jackets of the ‘Royal Americans,”’
returned the scout. “No, no, the sarpent knew his errand; nor was there any
great mistake in the matter, for there is but little love atween a Delaware and
a Mingo, let their tribes go out to fight for whom they may, in a white
quarrel. For that matter, though the Oneidas do serve his sacred majesty, who
is my own sovereign lord and master, I should not have deliberated long about
letting off ‘killdeer’ at the imp myself, had luck thrown him in my way.”
“That would have been
an abuse of our treaties, and unworthy of your character.”
“When a man consorts
much with a people,” continued Hawk-eye, “if they are honest, and he no knave,
love will grow up atwixt them. It is true, that white cunning has managed to
throw the tribes into great confusion, as respects friends and enemies; so that
the Hurons and the Oneidas, who speak the same tongue, or what may be called
the same, take each other’s scalps, and the Delawares are divided among
themselves; a few hanging about their great council fire, on their own river,
and fighting on the same side with the Mingoes, while the greater part are in
the Canadas, out of natural enmity to the Maquas--thus throwing every thing
into disorder, and destroying all the harmony of warfare. Yet a red natur is
not likely to alter with every shift of policy! so that the love atwixt a
Mohican and a Mingo is much like the regard between a white man and a sarpent.”
“I regret to hear it;
for I had believed, those natives who dwelt within our boundaries had found us
too just and liberal, not to identify themselves, fully, with our quarrels.”
“Why,” said the scout, “I
believe it is natur to give a preference to one’s own quarrels before those of
strangers. Now, for myself, I do love justice; and therefore--I will not say I
hate a Mingo, for that may be unsuitable to my colour and my religion-- though
I will just repeat, it may have been owing to the night that ‘kill-deer’ had no
hand in the death of this skulking Oneida.”
Then, as if satisfied
with the force of his own reasons, whatever might be their effect on the
opinions of the other disputant, the honest but implacable woodsman turned from
the fire, content to let the controversy slumber. Heyward withdrew to the
rampart, too uneasy and too little accustomed to the warfare of the woods, to
remain at ease under the possibility of such insidious attacks. Not so,
however, with the scout and the Mohicans. Those acute and long practised
senses, whose powers so often exceed the limits of all ordinary credulity,
after having detected the danger, had enabled them to ascertain its magnitude
and duration. Not one of the three appeared in the least to doubt, now, of
their perfect security, as was indicated by the preparations that were soon
made, to sit in council over their future proceedings.
The confusion of
nations, and even of tribes, to which Hawk-eye alluded, existed at that period in
the fullest force. The great tie of language, and, of course, of a common
origin, was severed in many places; and it was one of its consequences that the
Delaware and the Mingo, (as the people of the Six Nations were called,) were
found fighting in the same ranks, while the latter sought the scalp of the
Huron, though believed to be the root of his own stock. The Delawares were even
divided among themselves. Though love for the soil which had belonged to his
ancestors, kept the Sagamore of the Mohicans, with a small band of followers
who were serving at Edward, under the banners of the English king, by far the
largest portion of his nation were known to be in the field as allies of
Montcalm. The reader probably knows, if enough has not already been gleaned
from this narrative, that the Delaware, or Lenape, claimed to be the
progenitors of that numerous people, who once were masters of most of the
eastern and northern states of America, of whom the community of the Mohicans
was an ancient and highly honoured member.
It was, of course, with
a perfect understanding of the minute and intricate interests, which had armed
friend against friend, and brought natural enemies to combat by each other’s
side, that the scout and his companions now disposed themselves to deliberate
on the measures that were to govern their future movements, amid so many
jarring and savage races of men. Duncan knew enough of Indian customs, to
understand the reason that the fire was replenished, and why the warriors, not
excepting Hawk-eye, took their seats within the curl of its smoke, with so much
gravity and decorum. Placing himself at an angle of the works, where he might
be a spectator of the scene within, while he kept a watchful eye against any
danger from without, he awaited the result, with as much patience as he could
summon for the occasion.
After a short and
impressive pause, Chingachgook lighted a pipe, whose bowl was curiously carved
in one of the soft stones of the country, and whose stem was a tube of wood,
and commenced smoking. When he had inhaled enough of the fragrance of the
soothing weed, he passed the instrument into the hands of the scout. In this
manner the pipe had made its rounds three several times, amid the most profound
silence, before either of the party opened his lips to speak. Then the
Sagamore, as the oldest and highest in rank, in a few calm and dignified words,
proposed the subject for deliberation. He was answered by the scout; and
Chingachgook rejoined, when the other objected to his opinions. But the youthful
Uncas continued a silent and respectful listener, until Hawk-eye, in
complaisance, demanded his opinion. Heyward gathered from the manners of the
different speakers, that the father and son espoused one side of a disputed
question, while the white man maintained the other. The contest gradually grew
warmer, until it was quite evident the feelings of the speakers began to be
somewhat enlisted in the debate.
Notwithstanding the
increasing warmth of the amicable contest, the most decorous christian assembly,
not even excepting those in which its reverend ministers are collected, might
have learned a wholesome lesson of moderation from the forbearance and courtesy
of the disputants. The words of Uncas were received with the same deep
attention as those which fell from the maturer wisdom of his father; and so far
from manifesting any impatience, none spoke, in reply, until a few moments of
silent meditation were, seemingly, bestowed in deliberating on what had already
been said.
The language of the
Mohicans was accompanied by gestures so direct and natural, that Heyward had
but little difficulty in following the thread of their argument. On the other
hand, the scout was obscure; because, from the lingering pride of colour, he
rather affected the cold and inartificial manner, which characterizes all
classes of Anglo-Americans, when unexcited. By the frequency with which the
Indians described the marks of a forest trail, it was evident they urged a
pursuit by land, while the repeated sweep of Hawk-eye’s arm toward the Horican,
denoted that he advocated a passage across its waters.
The latter was, to
every appearance, fast losing ground, and the point was about to be decided
against him, when he arose to his feet, and shaking off his apathy, he suddenly
assumed the manner of an Indian, and adopted all the arts of native eloquence.
Elevating an arm, he pointed out the track of the sun, repeating the gesture
for every day that was necessary to accomplish their object. Then he delineated
a long and painful path, amid rocks and water courses. The age and weakness of
the slumbering and unconscious Munro, were indicated by signs too palpable to
be mistaken. Duncan perceived that even his own powers were spoken lightly of,
as the scout extended his palm, and mentioned him by the appellation of the “open
hand;” a name his liberality had purchased of all the friendly tribes. Then
came the representation of the light and graceful movements of a canoe, set in
forcible contrast to the tottering steps of one enfeebled and tired. He
concluded by pointing to the scalp of the Oneida, and apparently urging the
necessity of their departing speedily, and in a manner that should leave no
trail.
The Mohicans listened
gravely, and with countenances that reflected the sentiments of the speaker.
Conviction gradually wrought its influence, and towards the close of Hawk-eye’s
speech, his sentences were accompanied by the customary exclamation of
commendation. In short, Uncas and his father became converts to his way of
thinking, abandoning their own previously expressed opinions, with a liberality
and candour, that, had they been the representatives of some great and
civilized people, would have infallibly worked their political ruin, by
destroying, for ever, their reputation for consistency.
The instant the matter
in discussion was decided, the debate, and every thing connected with it,
except the result, appeared to be forgotten. Hawk-eye, without looking round to
read his triumph in applauding eyes, very composedly stretched his tall frame
before the dying embers, and closed his own organs in sleep.
Left now in a measure
to themselves, the Mohicans, whose time had been so much devoted to the
interests of others, seized the moment to devote some attention to themselves.
Casting off, at once, the grave and austere demeanour of an Indian chief,
Chingachgook commenced speaking to his son in the soft and playful tones of
affection. Uncas gladly met the familiar air of his father, and before the hard
breathing of the scout announced that he slept, a complete change was effected
in the manner of his two associates.
It is impossible to
describe the music of their language, while thus engaged in laughter and
endearments, in such a way as to render it intelligible to those whose ears
have never listened to its melody. The compass of their voices, particularly
that of the youth, was wonderful; extending from the deepest bass, to tones
that were even feminine in softness. The eyes of the father followed the plastic
and ingenious movements of the son with open delight, and he never failed to
smile in reply to the other’s contagious, but low laughter. While under the
influence of these gentle and natural feelings, no trace of ferocity was to be
seen in the softened features of the Sagamore. His figured panoply of death
looked more like a disguise assumed in mockery, than a fierce annunciation of a
desire to carry destruction and desolation in his footsteps.
After an hour passed in
the indulgence of their better feelings, Chingachgook abruptly announced his
desire to sleep, by wrapping his head in his blanket, and stretching his form
on the naked earth. The merriment of Uncas instantly ceased; and carefully
raking the coals, in such a manner that they should impart their warmth to his
father’s feet, the youth sought his own pillow among the ruins of the place.
Imbibing renewed
confidence from the security of these experienced foresters, Heyward soon
imitated their example; and long before the night had turned, they who lay in
the bosom of the ruined work, seemed to slumber as heavily as the unconscious
multitude, whose bones were already beginning to bleach, on the surrounding
plain.
“Land of Albania! let
me bend mine eyes
On thee, thou rugged
nurse of savage men!”
Childe Harold
The heavens were still
studded with stars, when Hawk-eye came to arouse the sleepers. Casting aside
their cloaks, Munro and Heyward were on their feet, while the woodsman was
still making his low calls, at the entrance of the rude shelter where they had
passed the night. When they issued from beneath its concealment, they found the
scout awaiting their appearance nigh by, and the only salutation between them
was the significant gesture for silence, made by their sagacious leader.
“Think over your
prayers,” he whispered, as they approached him; “for he, to whom you make them,
knows all tongues; that of the heart, as well as those of the mouth. But speak
not a syllable; it is rare for a white voice to pitch itself properly in the
woods, as we have seen by the example of that miserable devil, the singer.
Come,” he continued, turning towards a curtain of the works; “let us get into
the ditch on this side, and be regardful to step on the stones and fragments of
wood as you go.”
His companions
complied, though to one of them the reasons of all this extraordinary
precaution were yet a mystery. When they were in the low cavity, that
surrounded the earthen fort on three of its sides, they found the passage
nearly choked by the ruins. With care and patience, however, they succeeded in
clambering after the scout, until they reached the sandy shore of the Horican.
“That’s a trail that
nothing but a nose can follow,” said the satisfied scout, looking back along
their difficult way; “grass is a treacherous carpet for a flying party to tread
on, but wood and stone take no print from a moccasin. Had you worn your armed
boots, there might, indeed, have been something to fear! but with the deer-skin
suitably prepared, a man may trust himself, generally, on rocks with safety.
Shove in the canoe nigher to the land, Uncas; this sand will take a stamp as
easily as the butter of the Dutchers on the Mohawk. Softly, lad, softly; it
must not touch the beach, or the knaves will know by what road we have left the
place.”
The young man observed
the precaution; and the scout, laying a board from the ruins to the canoe, made
a sign for the two officers to enter. When this was done, every thing was
studiously restored to its former disorder; and then Hawk-eye succeeded in
reaching his little birchen vessel, without leaving behind him any of those
marks which he appeared so much to dread. Heyward was silent, until the Indians
had cautiously paddled the canoe some distance from the fort, and within the
broad and dark shadow that fell from the eastern mountains, on the glossy
surface of the lake; then he demanded--
“What need have we for
this stolen and hurried departure?”
“If the blood of an
Oneida could stain such a sheet of pure water as this we float on,” returned
the scout, “your two eyes would answer your own question. Have you forgotten
the skulking reptyle that Uncas slew?”
“By no means. But he
was said to be alone, and dead men give no cause for fear!”
“Ay, he was alone in
his deviltry! but an Indian, whose tribe counts so many warriors, need seldom
fear his blood will run, without the death-shriek coming speedily from some of
his enemies.”
“But our presence--the
authority of Colonel Munro, would prove a sufficient protection against the
anger of our allies, especially in a case where the wretch so well merited his
fate. I trust, in Heaven, you have not deviated a single foot from the direct
line of our course, with so slight a reason.”
“Do you think the
bullet of that varlet’s rifle would have turned aside, though his sacred
majesty the king had stood in its path!” returned the stubborn scout. “Why did
not the grand Frencher, he who is captain general of the Canadas, bury the
tomahawks of the Hurons, if a word from a white can work so strongly on the natur
of an Indian?”
The reply of Heyward
was interrupted by a deep and heavy groan from Munro; but after he had paused a
moment, in deference to the sorrow of his aged friend, he resumed the subject.
“The Marquis of
Montcalm can only settle that error with his God,” said the young man,
solemnly.
“Ay, ay, now there is
reason in your words, for they are bottomed on religion and honesty. There is a
vast difference between throwing a regiment of white coats atwixt the tribes
and the prisoners, and coaxing an angry savage to forget he carries a knife and
a rifle, with words that must begin with calling him ‘your son.’ No, no,”
continued the scout, looking back at the dim shore of William Henry, which now
appeared to be fast receding, and laughing in his own silent but heartfelt
manner; “I have put a trail of water atween us; and unless the imps can make
friends with the fishes, and hear who has paddled across their basin, this fine
morning, we shall throw the length of the Horican behind us, before they have made
up their minds which path to take.”
“With foes in front,
and foes in our rear, our journey is like to be one of danger!”
“Danger!” repeated
Hawk-eye, calmly; “no, not absolutely of danger; for, with vigilant ears and
quick eyes, we can manage to keep a few hours ahead of the knaves; or, if we
must try the rifle, there are three of us who understand its gifts as well as
any you can name on the borders. No, not of danger; but that we shall have what
you may call a brisk push of it, is probable; and it may happen, a brush, a
skrimmage, or some such divarsion, but always where covers are good, and
ammunition abundant.”
It is possible that
Heyward’s estimate of danger, distinguished as he was for spirit, differed in
some degree from that of the scout, for, instead of replying, he now sat in
silence, while the canoe glided over several miles of water. Just as the day
dawned, they entered the narrows of the lake, and stole swiftly and cautiously
among their numberless little islands. It was by this road that Montcalm had
retired with his army, and the adventurers knew not but he had left some of his
Indians in ambush, to protect the rear of his forces, and collect the
stragglers. They, therefore, approached the passage with the customary silence
of their guarded habits.
Chingachgook laid aside
his paddle; while Uncas and the scout urged the light vessel through crooked
and intricate channels, where every foot that they advanced exposed them to the
danger of some sudden rising on their progress. The eyes of the Sagamore moved
warily from islet to islet, and copse to copse, as the canoe proceeded; and
when a clearer sheet of water permitted, his keen vision was bent along the
bald rocks and impending forests, that frowned upon the narrow strait.
Heyward, who was a
doubly interested spectator, as well from the beauties of the place as from the
apprehension natural to his situation, was just believing that he had permitted
the latter to be excited without sufficient reason, when the paddles ceased
moving, in obedience to a signal from Chingachgook.
“Hugh!” exclaimed
Uncas, nearly at the moment that the light tap his father had made on the side
of the canoe, notified them of the vicinity of danger.
“What now?” asked the
scout; “the lake is as smooth as if the winds had never blown, and I can see
along its sheet for miles; there is not so much as the black head of a loon
dotting the water!”
The Indian gravely
raised his paddle, and pointed in the direction that his own steady look was
riveted. Duncan’s eyes followed the motion. A few rods in their front lay
another of the low wooded islets, but it appeared as calm and peaceful, as if
its solitude had never been disturbed by the foot of man.
“I see nothing,” he
said, “but land and water; and a lovely scene it is!”
“Hist!” interrupted the
scout. “Ay, Sagamore, there is always a reason for what you do! ’Tis but a
shade, and yet it is not natural. You see the mist, major, that is rising above
the island; you can’t call it a fog, for it is more like a streak of thin cloud”--
“It is vapour from the
water!”
“That a child could
tell. But what is the edging of blacker smoke, that hangs along its lower side,
and which you may trace down into the thicket of hazle? ’Tis from a fire; but
one that, in my judgment, has been suffered to burn low.”
“Let us then push for
the place, and relieve our doubts,” said the impatient Duncan; “the party must
be small that can lie on such a bit of land.”
“If you judge of Indian
cunning by the rules you find in books, or by white sagacity, they will lead
you astray, if not to your death,” returned Hawk-eye, examining the signs of
the place with that acuteness which distinguished him. “If I may be permitted
to speak in this matter, it will be to say, that we have but two things to
choose between: the one is, to return, and give up all thoughts of following
the Hurons--”
“Never!” exclaimed
Heyward, in a voice far too loud for their circumstances.
“Well, well,” continued
Hawk-eye, making a hasty sign to repress his ardour; “I am much of your mind
myself; though I thought it becoming my experience to tell the whole. We must
then make a push, and if the Indians or Frenchers are in the narrows, run the
gauntlet through these topling mountains. Is there reason in my words,
Sagamore?”
The Indian made no
other answer than by dropping his paddle into the water, and urging forward the
canoe. As he held the office of directing its course, his resolution was
sufficiently indicated by the movement. The whole party now plied their paddles
vigorously, and in a very few moments they had reached a point whence they
might command an entire view of the northern shore of the island, the side that
had hitherto been concealed.
“There they are, by all
the truth of signs!” whispered the scout; “two canoes and a smoke! The knaves
have’nt yet got their eyes out of the mist, or we should hear the accursed
whoop. Together, friends--we are leaving them, and are already nearly out of
whistle of a bullet.”
The well known crack of
a rifle, whose ball came skipping along the placid surface of the strait, and a
shrill yell from the island, interrupted his speech, and announced that their
passage was discovered. In another instant several savages were seen rushing
into the canoes, which were soon dancing over the water, in swift pursuit.
These fearful precursors of a coming struggle, produced no change in the
countenances and movements of his three guides, so far as Duncan could
discover, except that the strokes of their paddles were longer and more in
unison, and caused the little bark to spring forward like a creature possessing
life and volition.
“Hold them there,
Sagamore,” said Hawk-eye, looking coolly backward over his left shoulder, while
he still plied his paddle; “keep them just there. Them Hurons have never a
piece in their nation that will execute at this distance; but ‘kill-deer’ has a
barrel on which a man may safely calculate.”
The scout having
ascertained that the Mohicans were sufficient of themselves to maintain the
requisite distance, deliberately laid aside his paddle, and raised the fatal
rifle. Three several times he brought the piece to his shoulder, and when his
companions were expecting its report, he as often lowered it, to request the
Indians would permit their enemies to approach a little nigher. At length, his
accurate and fastidious eye seemed satisfied, and throwing out his left arm on
the barrel, he was slowly elevating the muzzle, when an exclamation from Uncas,
who sat in the bow, once more caused him to suspend the shot.
“What now, lad?”
demanded Hawk-eye; “you saved a Huron from the death-shriek by that word; have
you reason for what you do?”
Uncas pointed towards
the rocky shore, a little in their front, whence another war canoe was darting
directly across their course. It was too obvious, now, that their situation was
imminently perilous, to need the aid of language to confirm it. The scout laid
aside his rifle, and resumed the paddle, while Chingachgook inclined the bows
of the canoe a little towards the western shore, in order to increase the
distance between them and this new enemy. In the mean time, they were reminded
of the presence of those who pressed upon their rear, by wild and exulting
shouts. The stirring scene awakened even Munro from the dull apathy into which
he was plunged by the weight of his misfortunes.
“Let us make for the
rocks on the main,” he said, with the firm mien of a tried soldier, “and give
battle to the savages. God forbid that I, or those attached to me and mine,
should ever trust again to the faith of any servant of the Louises!”
“He who wishes to
prosper in Indian warfare,” returned the busy scout, “must not be too proud to
learn from the wit of a native. Lay her more along the land, Sagamore; we are
doubling on the varlets, and perhaps they may try to strike our trail on the
long calculation.”
Hawk-eye was not
mistaken; for, when the Hurons found their course was likely to throw them
behind their chase, they rendered it less direct, until by gradually bearing
more and more obliquely, the two canoes were, ere long, gliding on parallel lines,
within two hundred yards of each other. It now became entirely a trial of
speed. So rapid was the progress of the light vessels, that the lake curled in
their front, in miniature waves, and their motion became undulating by its own
velocity. It was, perhaps, owing to this circumstance, in addition to the
necessity of keeping every hand employed at the paddles, that the Hurons had
not immediate recourse to their fire-arms. The exertions of the fugitives were
too severe to continue long, and the pursuers had the advantage of numbers.
Duncan observed, with uneasiness, that the scout began to look anxiously about
him, as if searching for some further means of assisting their flight.
“Edge her a little more
from the sun, Sagamore,” said the stubborn woodsman; “I see the knaves are
sparing a man to the rifle. A single broken bone might lose us our scalps. Edge
more from the sun, and we will put the island between us.”
The expedient was not
without its use. A long, low island lay at a little distance before them, and
as they closed with it, the chasing canoe was compelled to take a side opposite
to that on which the pursued passed. The scout and his companions did not
neglect this advantage, but the instant they were hid from observation by the
bushes, they redoubled efforts that before had seemed prodigious. The two
canoes came round the last low point, like two coursers at the top of their
speed, the fugitives taking the lead. This change had brought them nigher to
each other, however, while it altered their relative positions.
“You showed knowledge
in the shaping of birchen bark, Uncas, when you chose this from among the Huron
canoes,” said the scout, smiling, apparently, more in satisfaction at their
superiority in the race, than from that prospect of final escape, which now
began to open a little upon them. “The imps have put all their strength again
at the paddles, and we are to struggle for our scalps with bits of flattened
wood, instead of clouded barrels and true eyes! A long stroke, and together,
friends.”
“They are preparing for
a shot,” said Heyward; “and as we are in a line with them, it can scarcely
fail.”
“Get you then into the
bottom of the canoe,” returned the scout; “you and the colonel; it will be so
much taken from the size of the mark.”
Heyward smiled, as he
answered--
“It would be but an ill
example for the highest in rank to dodge, while the warriors were under fire!”
“Lord! Lord! that is
now a white man’s courage!” exclaimed the scout; “and like too many of his
notions, not to be maintained by reason. Do you think the Sagamore, or Uncas,
or even I, who am a man without a cross, would deliberate about finding a cover
in a skrimmage, when an open body would do no good! For what have the Frenchers
reared up their Quebec, if fighting is always to be done in the clearings?”
“All that you say is
very true, my friend,” replied Heyward; “still, our customs must prevent us
from doing as you wish.”
A volley from the
Hurons interrupted the discourse, and as the bullets whistled about them,
Duncan saw the head of Uncas turned, looking back at himself and Munro.
Notwithstanding the nearness of the enemy, and his own great personal danger,
the countenance of the young warrior expressed no other emotion, as the former
was compelled to think, than amazement at finding men willing to encounter so
useless an exposure. Chingachgook was probably better acquainted with the
notions of white men, for he did not even cast a glance aside from the riveted
look his eye maintained on the object, by which he governed their course. A
ball soon struck the light and polished paddle from the hands of the chief, and
drove it through the air far in the advance. A shout arose from the Hurons, who
seized the opportunity to fire another volley. Uncas described an arc in the
water with his own blade, and as the canoe passed swiftly on, Chingachgook
recovered his paddle, and flourishing it on high, he gave the warwhoop of the
Mohicans, and then lent his own strength and skill, again, to the important
task.
The clamorous sounds of
“le Gros Serpent,” “la Longue Carabine,” “le Cerf Agile,” burst at once from
the canoes behind, and seemed to give new zeal to the pursuers. The scout
seized “kill-deer” in his left hand, and elevating it above his head, he shook
it in triumph at his enemies. The savages answered the insult with a yell, and
immediately another volley succeeded. The bullets pattered along the lake, and
one even pierced the bark of their little vessel. No perceptible emotion could
be discovered in the Mohicans during this critical moment, their rigid features
expressing neither hope nor alarm; but the scout again turned his head, and
laughing in his own silent manner, he said to Heyward--
“The knaves love to
hear the sounds of their pieces; but the eye is not to be found among the
Mingoes that can calculate a true range in a dancing canoe! You see the dumb
devils have taken off a man to charge, and by the smallest measurement that can
be allowed, we move three feet to their two!”
Duncan, who was not
altogether as easy under this nice estimate of distances as his companions, was
glad to find, however, that owing to their superior dexterity, and the
diversion among their enemies, they were very sensibly obtaining the advantage.
The Hurons soon fired again, and a bullet struck the blade of Hawk-eye’s paddle
without injury.
“That will do,” said
the scout, examining the slight indentation with a curious eye; “it would not
have cut the skin of an infant, much less of men, who, like us, have been blown
upon by the Heavens in their anger. Now, major, if you will try to use this
piece of flattened wood, I’ll let ‘kill-deer’ take a part in the conversation.”
Heyward seized the
paddle, and applied himself to the work with an eagerness that supplied the
place of skill, while Hawk-eye was engaged in inspecting the priming of his
rifle. The latter then took a swift aim, and fired. The Huron in the bows of
the leading canoe had risen with a similar object, and he now fell backward,
suffering his gun to escape from his hands into the water. In an instant,
however, he recovered his feet, though his gestures were wild and bewildered.
At the same moment his companions suspended their efforts, and the chasing
canoes clustered together, and became stationary. Chingachgook and Uncas
profited by the interval to regain their wind, though Duncan continued to work
with the most persevering industry. The father and son now cast calm but
inquiring glances at each other, to learn if either had sustained any injury by
the fire; for both well knew that no cry or exclamation would, in such a moment
of necessity, have been permitted to betray the accident. A few large drops of
blood were trickling down the shoulder of the Sagamore, who, when he perceived
that the eyes of Uncas dwelt too long on the sight, raised some water in the
hollow of his hand, and washing off the stain, was content to manifest, in this
simple manner, the slightness of the injury.
“Softly, softly, major,”
said the scout, who by this time had reloaded his rifle; “we are a little too
far already for a rifle to put forth its beauties, and you see yonder imps are
holding a council. Let them come up within striking distance--my eye may well
be trusted in such a matter--and I will trail the varlets the length of the
Horican, guaranteeing that not a shot of theirs shall, at the worst, more than
break the skin, while ‘kill-deer’ shall touch the life twice in three times.”
“We forget our errand,”
returned the diligent Duncan. “For God’s sake, let us profit by this advantage,
and increase our distance from the enemy.”
“Give me my children,”
said Munro, hoarsely; “trifle no longer with a father’s agony, but restore me
my babes!”
Long and habitual
deference to the mandates of his superiors, had taught the scout the virtue of
obedience. Throwing a last and lingering glance at the distant canoes, he laid
aside his rifle, and relieving the wearied Duncan, resumed the paddle, which he
wielded with sinews that never tired. His efforts were seconded by those of the
Mohicans, and a very few minutes served to place such a sheet of water between
them and their enemies, that Heyward once more breathed freely.
The lake now began to
expand, and their route lay along a wide reach, that was lined; as before, by
high and ragged mountains. But the islands were few, and easily avoided. The
strokes of the paddles grew more measured and regular, while they who plied
them continued their labour, after the close and deadly chase from which they
had just relieved themselves, with as much coolness as though their speed had
been tried in sport, rather than under such pressing, nay, almost desperate,
circumstances.
Instead of following
the western shore, whither their errand led them, the wary Mohican inclined his
course more towards those hills, behind which, Montcalm was known to have led
his army into the formidable fortress of Ticonderoga. As the Hurons, to every
appearance, had abandoned the pursuit, there was no apparent reason for this
excess of caution. It was, however, maintained for hours, until they had
reached a bay, nigh the northern termination of the lake. Here the canoe was
driven upon the beach, and the whole party landed. Hawk-eye and Heyward
ascended an adjacent bluff, where the former, after considering the expanse of
water beneath him, attentively, for many minutes, pointed out to the latter a
small black object, hovering under a head-land, at the distance of several
miles.
“Do you see it?”
demanded the scout. “Now, what would you account that spot, were you left alone
to white experience to find your way through this wilderness?”
“But for its distance
and its magnitude, I should suppose it a bird. Can it be a living object?”
“’Tis a canoe of good
birchen bark, and paddled by fierce and crafty Mingoes! Though Providence has
lent to those who inhabit the woods eyes that would be needless to men in the
settlements, where there are inventions to assist the sight, yet no human
organs can see all the dangers which at this moment circumvent us. These
varlets pretend to be bent chiefly on their sun-down meal, but the moment it is
dark, they will be on our trail, as true as hounds on the scent. We must throw
them off, or our pursuit of le Renard Subtil may be given up. These lakes are
useful at times, especially when the game takes the water,” continued the
scout, gazing about him with a countenance of concern, “but they give no cover,
except it be to the fishes. God knows what the country would be, if the
settlements should ever spread far from the two rivers. Both hunting and war
would lose their beauty.”
“Let us not delay a
moment, without some good and obvious cause.”
“I little like that
smoke, which you may see worming up along the rock above the canoe,”
interrupted the abstracted scout. “My life on it, other eyes than ours see it,
and know its meaning! Well, words will not mend the matter, and it is time that
we were doing.”
Hawk-eye moved away
from the look out, and descended, musing profoundly, to the shore. He
communicated the result of his observations to his companions, in Delaware, and
a short and earnest consultation succeeded. When it terminated, the three
instantly set about executing their new resolutions.
The canoe was lifted
from the water, and borne on the shoulders of the party. They proceeded into
the wood, making as broad and obvious a trail as possible. They soon reached a
water-course, which they crossed, and continued onward, until they came to an
extensive and naked rock. At this point, where their footsteps might be
expected to be no longer visible, they retraced their route to the brook,
walking backwards, with the utmost care. They now followed the bed of the
little stream to the lake, into which they immediately launched their canoe
again. A low point concealed them from the head land, and the margin of the
lake was fringed for some distance with dense and overhanging bushes. Under the
cover of these natural advantages, they toiled their way, with patient
industry, until the scout pronounced that he believed it would be safe once
more to land.
The halt continued
until evening rendered objects indistinct and uncertain to the eye. Then they
resumed their route, and, favoured by the darkness, pushed silently and
vigorously toward the western shore. Although the rugged outline of mountain,
to which they were steering, presented no distinctive marks to the eyes of
Duncan, the Mohican entered the little haven he had selected with the
confidence and accuracy of an experienced pilot.
The boat was again
lifted, and borne into the woods, where it was carefully concealed under a pile
of brush. The adventurers assumed their arms and packs, and the scout announced
to Munro and Heyward, that he and the Indians were at last in readiness to
proceed.
“If you find a man
there, he shall die a flea’s death.”
Merry Wines of Windsor
The party had landed on
the border of a region that is, even to this day, less known to the inhabitants
of the states, than the deserts of Arabia, or the steppes of Tartary. It was
the sterile and rugged district, which separates the tributaries of Champlain
from those of the Hudson, the Mohawk, and of the St. Lawrence. Since the period
of our tale, the active spirit of the country has surrounded it with a belt of
rich and thriving settlements, though none but the hunter or the savage is ever
known, even now, to penetrate its rude and wild recesses.
As Hawk-eye and the
Mohicans had, however, often traversed the mountains and valleys of this vast
wilderness, they did not hesitate to plunge into its depths, with the freedom
of men accustomed to its privations and difficulties. For many hours the
travellers toiled on their laborious way, guided by a star, or following the
direction of some water-course, until the scout called a halt, and holding a
short consultation with the Indians, they lighted their fire, and made the
usual preparations to pass the remainder of the night where they then were.
Imitating the example,
and emulating the confidence of their more experienced associates, Munro and
Duncan slept without fear, if not without uneasiness. The dews were suffered to
exhale, and the sun had dispersed the mists, and was shedding a strong and
clear light in the forest, when the travellers resumed their journey.
After proceeding a few
miles, the progress of Hawk-eye, who led the advance, became more deliberate
and watchful. He often stopped to examine the tress; nor did he cross a
rivulet, without attentively considering the quantity, the velocity, and the
colour of its waters. Distrusting his own judgment, his appeals to the opinion
of Chingachgook were frequent and earnest. During one of these conferences,
Heyward observed that Uncas stood a patient and silent, though, as he imagined,
an interested listener. He was strongly tempted to address the young chieftain,
and demand his opinion of their progress; but the calm and dignified demeanour
of the native, induced him to believe, that, like himself, the other was wholly
dependent on the sagacity and intelligence of the seniors of the party. At
last, the scout spoke in English, and at once explained the embarrassment of
their situation.
“When I found that the
home path of the Hurons run north,” he said, “it did not need the judgment of
many long years to tell that they would follow the valleys, and keep atween the
waters of the Hudson and the Horican, until they might strike the springs of
the Canada streams, which would lead them into the heart of the country of the
Frenchers. Yet here are we, within a short range of the Scaroon, and not a sign
of a trail have we crossed! Human natur is weak, and it is possible we may not
have taken the proper scent.”
“Heaven protect us from
such an error!” exclaimed Duncan. “Let us retrace our steps, and examine as we
go, with keener eyes. Has Uncas no counsel to offer in such a strait?”
The young Mohican cast
a quick glance at his father, but instantly recovering his quiet and reserved
mien, he continued silent. Chingachgook had caught the look, and motioning with
his hand, he bade him speak. The moment this permission was accorded, the
countenance of Uncas changed from its grave composure to a gleam of
intelligence and joy. Bounding forward like a deer, he sprang up the side of a
little acclivity, a few rods in advance, and stood, exultingly, over a spot of
fresh earth, that looked as though it had been recently upturned by the passage
of some heavy animal. The eyes of the whole party followed the unexpected
movement, and read their success in the air of triumph that the youth assumed.
“’Tis the trail!”
exclaimed the scout, advancing to the spot; “the lad is quick of sight and keen
of wit, for his years.”
“’Tis extraordinary,
that he should have withheld his knowledge so long,” muttered Duncan, at his
elbow.
“It would have been
more wonderful had he spoken, without a bidding! No, no; your young white, who
gathers his learning from books, and can measure what he knows by the page, may
conceit that his knowledge, like his legs, outruns that of his father; but
where experience is the master, the scholar is made to know the value of years,
and respects them accordingly.”
“See!” said Uncas,
pointing north and south, at the evident marks of the broad trail on either
side of him; “the dark-hair has gone towards the frost.”
“Hound never ran on a
more beautiful scent,” responded the scout, dashing forward, at once, on the
indicated route; “we are favoured, greatly favoured, and can follow with high
noses. Ay, here are both your wadding beasts; this Huron travels like a white
general! The fellow is stricken with a judgment, and is mad! Look sharp for
wheels, Sagamore,” he continued, looking back and laughing, in his newly
awakened satisfaction; “we shall soon have the fool journeying in a coach, and
that with three of the best pair of eyes on the borders in his rear.”
The spirits of the
scout, and the astonishing success of the chase, in which a circuitous distance
of more than forty miles had been passed, did not fail to impart a portion of
hope to the whole party. Their advance was rapid; and made with as much
confidence as a traveller would proceed along a wide highway. If a rock, or a
rivulet, or a bit of earth harder than common, severed the links of the clue
they followed, the true eye of the scout recovered them at a distance, and
seldom rendered the delay of a single moment necessary. Their progress was much
facilitated by the certainty that Magua had found it necessary to journey
through the valleys; a circumstance which rendered the general direction of the
route sure. Nor had the Huron entirely neglected the arts uniformly practised
by the natives, when retiring in front of an enemy. False trails, and sudden
turnings, were frequent, wherever a brook, or the formation of the ground,
rendered them feasible; but his pursuers were rarely deceived, and never failed
to detect their error, before they had lost either time or distance on the
deceptive track.
By the middle of the
afternoon they had passed the Scaroon, and were following the route of the
declining sun. After descending an eminence to a low bottom, through which a
swift stream glided, they suddenly came to a place where the party of le Renard
had made a halt. Extinguished brands were lying around a spring, the offals of
a deer were scattered about the place, and the trees bore evident marks of
having been browsed long and closely by the horses. At a little distance,
Heyward discovered, and contemplated with tender emotion, the small bower under
which, he was fain to believe, that Cora and Alice had reposed. But while the
earth was trodden, and the footsteps of both men and beasts were so plainly
visible around the place, the trail appeared to have suddenly ended.
It was easy to follow
the tracks of the Narragansetts, but they seemed only to have wandered without
guides, or any other object than the pursuit of food. At length Uncas, who,
with his father, had endeavoured to trace the route of the horses, came upon a
sign of their presence, that was quite recent. Before following the clue, he
communicated his success to his companions, and while the latter were
consulting on the circumstance, the youth re-appeared, leading the two fillies,
with their saddles broken, and the housings soiled, as though they had been
permitted to run, at will, for several days.
“What should this
prove?” said Duncan, turning pale, and glancing his eyes around him, as if he
feared the brush and leaves were about to give up some horrid secret.
“That our march is come
to a quick end, and that we are in an enemy’s country,” returned the scout. “Had
the knave been pressed, and the gentle ones wanted horses to keep up with the
party, he might have taken their scalps; but without an enemy at his heels, and
with such rugged beasts as these, he would not hurt a hair of their heads. I
know your thoughts, and shame be it to our colour, that you have reason for
them; but he who thinks that even a Mingo would ill treat a woman, unless it be
to tomahawk her, knows nothing of Indian natur, or the laws of the woods. No,
no; I have heard that the French Indians had come into these hills, to hunt the
moose, and we are getting within scent of their camp. Why should they not? the
morning and evening guns of Ty, may be heard any day among these mountains; for
the Frenchers are running a new line atween the provinces of the king and the
Canadas. It is true, that the horses are here, but the Hurons are gone; let us
then hunt for the path by which they departed.”
Hawk-eye and the
Mohicans now applied themselves to their task in good earnest. A circle of a
few hundred feet in circumference was drawn, and each of the party took a
segment for his portion. The examination, however, resulted in no discovery.
The impressions of footsteps were numerous, but they all appeared like those of
men who had wandered about the spot, without any design to quit it. Again the
scout and his companions made the circuit of the halting-place, each slowly
following the other, until they assembled in the centre, once more, no wiser
than when they started.
“Such cunning is not
without its deviltry?” exclaimed Hawk-eye, when he met the disappointed looks
of his assistants. “We must get down to it, Sagamore, beginning at the spring,
and going over the ground by inches. The Huron shall never brag in his tribe
that he has a foot which leaves no print!”
Setting the example
himself, the scout engaged in the scrutiny with renewed zeal. Not a leaf was
left unturned. The sticks were removed, and the stones lifted--for Indian
cunning was known frequently to adopt these objects as covers, labouring with
the utmost patience and industry, to conceal each footstep as they proceeded.
Still, no discovery was made. At length Uncas, whose activity had enabled him
to achieve his portion of the task the soonest, raked the earth across the
turbid little rill which ran from the spring, and diverted its course into
another channel. So soon as its narrow bed below the dam was dry, he stooped
over it with keen and curious eyes. A cry of exultation immediately announced
the success of the young warrior. The whole party crowded to the spot, where
Uncas pointed out the impression of a moccasin in the rich and moist alluvion.
“The lad will be an
honour to his people!” said Hawk-eye, regarding the trail with as much
admiration as a naturalist would expend on the tusk of a mammoth, or the rib of
a mastoden; “ay, and a thorn in the sides of the Hurons. Yet that is not the
footstep of an Indian! the weight is too much on the heel, and the toes are
squared, as though one of the French dancers had been in, pigeon-winging his
tribe! Run back, Uncas, and bring me the size of the singer’s foot. You will
find a beautiful print of it just opposite yon rock, ag’in the hill side.”
While the youth was
engaged in this commission, the scout and Chingachgook were attentively
considering the impressions. The measurements agreed, and the former
unhesitatingly pronounced that the footstep was that of David, who had, once
more, been made to exchange his shoes for moccasins.
“I can now read the
whole of it, as plainly as if I had seen the arts of le Subtil,” he added; “the
singer, being a man whose gifts lay chiefly in his throat and feet, was made to
go first, and the others have trod in his steps, imitating their formation.”
“But,” cried Duncan, “I
see no signs of--”
“The gentle ones,”
interrupted the scout; “the varlet has found a way to carry them, until he
supposed he had thrown any followers off the scent. My life on it, we see their
pretty little feet again, before many rods go by.”
The whole party now
proceeded, following the course of the rill, keeping anxious eyes on the
regular impressions. The water soon flowed into its bed again, but watching the
ground on either side, the foresters pursued their way, content with knowing
that the trail lay beneath. More than half a mile was passed, before the rill
rippled close around the base of an extensive and dry rock. Here they paused to
make sure that the Hurons had not quitted the water.
It was fortunate they
did so. For the quick and active Uncas soon found the impression of a foot on a
bunch of moss, where it would seem an Indian had inadvertently trodden.
Pursuing the direction given by this discovery, he entered the neighbouring
thicket, and struck the trail, as fresh and obvious as it had been before they
reached the spring. Another shout announced the good fortune of the youth to
his companions, and at once terminated the search.
“Ay, it has been
planned with Indian judgment,” said the scout, when the party was assembled
around the place; “and would have blinded white eyes.”
“Shall we proceed?”
demanded Heyward.
“Softly, softly; we
know our path, but it is good to examine the formation of things. This is my
schooling, major; and if one neglects the book, there is no better chance of
learning from the open hand of Providence, than yon idle boy has with an old
gal. All is plain but one thing, which is, the manner that the knave contrived
to get the gentle ones along the blind trail. Even a Huron would be too proud
to let their tender feet touch the water.”
“Will this assist in
explaining the difficulty?” said Heyward, pointing towards the fragments of a
sort of hand-barrow, that had been rudely constructed of boughs, and bound
together with withes, and which now seemed carelessly cast aside as useless.
“’Tis all explained!”
cried the delighted Hawk-eye. “If them varlets have passed a minute, they have
spent hours in striving to fabricate a lying end to their trail! Well, I’ve
known them waste a day in the same manner, to as little purpose. Here we have
three pair of moccasins, and two of little feet. It is amazing that any mortal
beings can journey on limbs so small! Pass me the thong of buck-skin, Uncas,
and let me take the length of this foot. By the Lord, it is no longer than a
child’s, and yet the maidens are tall and comely. That Providence is partial in
its gifts, for its own wise reasons, the best and most contented of us must
allow!”
“The tender limbs of my
daughters are unequal to these hardships!” said Munro, looking at the light
footsteps of his children with a parent’s love; “we shall find their fainting forms
in this desert.”
“Of that there is
little cause of fear,” returned the attentive scout, slowly shaking his head; “this
is a firm and straight, though a light step, and not over long. See, the heel
has hardly touched the ground; and there the dark-hair has made a little jump,
from root to root. No, no; my knowledge for it, neither of them was nigh
fainting, hereaway. Now, the singer was beginning to be foot-sore and
leg-weary, as is plain by his trail. There you see he slipped; here he has
travelled wide, and tottered; and there, again, it looks as though he journeyed
on snow-shoes. Ay, ay, a man who uses his throat altogether, can hardly give
his legs a proper training!”
From such undeniable
testimony, did the practised woodsman arrive at the truth, with nearly as much
certainty and precision, as if he had been a witness of all those events, which
his ingenuity so easily elucidated. Cheered by these assurances, and satisfied
by a reasoning that was so obvious, while it was so simple, the party resumed its
course, after making a short halt, to take a hurried and slight repast.
When the meal was
ended, the scout cast a glance upward at the setting sun, and pushed forward
with a rapidity, to equal which compelled Heyward and the still vigorous Munro
to exert all their muscles. Their route, now, lay along the bottom which has
already been mentioned. As the Hurons had made no further efforts to conceal
their footsteps, the progress of the pursuers was no longer delayed by
uncertainty. Before an hour had elapsed, however, the speed of Hawk-eye
sensibly abated, and his head, instead of maintaing its former direct and
forward look, began to turn suspiciously from side to side, as if he were
conscious of approaching danger. He soon stopped again, and awaited for the
whole party to come up.
“I scent the Hurons,”
he said, speaking to the Mohicans; “yonder is open sky, through the tree-tops,
and we are getting too nigh their encampment. Sagamore, you will take the hill
side, to the right; Uncas will bend along the brook to the left, while I will
try the trail. If any thing should happen, the call will be three croaks of a
crow. I saw one of the birds fanning himself in the air, just beyond the dead
oak--another sign that we are touching an encampment.”
The Indians departed
their several ways, without deeming any reply necessary, while Hawk-eye
cautiously proceeded with the two gentlemen. Heyward soon pressed to the side
of their guide, eager to catch an early glimpse of those enemies he had pursued
with so much toil and anxiety. His companion told him to steal to the edge of
the wood, which, as usual, was fringed with a thicket, and wait his coming, for
he wished to examine certain suspicious signs a little on one side. Duncan
obeyed, and soon found himself in a situation to command a view which he found
as extraordinary as it was novel.
The trees of many acres
had been felled, and the glow of a mild summer’s evening had fallen on the
clearing, in beautiful contrast to the gray light of the forest. A short
distance from the place where Duncan stood, the stream had seemingly expanded
into a little lake, covering most of the low land, from mountain to mountain.
The water fell out of this wide basin, in a cataract so regular and gentle,
that it appeared rather to be the work of human hands, than fashioned by
nature. A hundred earthen dwellings stood on the margin of the lake, and even
in its water, as though the latter had flowed its usual banks. Their rounded
roofs, admirably moulded for defence against the weather, denoted more of
industry and foresight, than the natives were wont to bestow on their regular
habitations, much less on those they occupied for the temporary purposes of
hunting and war. In short, the whole village, or town, which ever it might be
termed, possessed more of method and neatness of execution, than the white men
had been accustomed to believe belonged, ordinarily, to the Indian habits. It
appeared, however, to be deserted. At least, so thought Duncan for many
minutes; but, at length, he fancied he discovered several human forms,
advancing towards him on all fours, and apparently dragging in their train some
heavy, and, as he was quick to apprehend, some formidable engine. Just then a
few dark looking heads gleamed out of the dwellings, and the place seemed
suddenly alive with beings, which, however, glided from cover to cover so
swiftly, as to allow no opportunity of examining their humours or pursuits.
Alarmed at these suspicious and inexplicable movements, he was about to attempt
the signal of the crows, when the rustling of leaves at hand, drew his eyes in
another direction.
The young man started,
and recoiled a few paces instinctively, when he found himself within a hundred
yards of a stranger Indian. Recovering his recollection on the instant, instead
of sounding an alarm, which might prove fatal to himself, he remained
stationary, an attentive observer of the other’s motions.
An instant of calm
observation, served to assure Duncan that he was undiscovered. The native, like
himself, seemed occupied in considering the low dwellings of the village, and
the stolen movements of its inhabitants. It was impossible to discover the
expression of his features, through the grotesque masque of paint, under which
they were concealed; though Duncan fancied it was rather melancholy than
savage. His head was shaved, as usual, with the exception of the crown, from
whose tuft three or four faded feathers, from a hawk’s wing, were loosely
dangling. A ragged calico mantle half encircled his body, while his nether garment
was composed of an ordinary shirt, the sleeves of which were made to perform
the office that is usually executed by a much more commodious arrangement. His
legs were bare, and sadly cut and torn by briars. The feet were, however,
covered with a pair of good bear-skin moccasins. Altogether, the appearance of
the individual was forlorn and miserable.
Duncan was still
curiously observing the person of his neighbour, when the scout stole silently
and cautiously to his side.
“You see we have
reached their settlement, or encampment,” whispered the young man; “and here is
one of the savages himself in a very embarrassing position for our further
movements.”
Hawk-eye started, and
dropped his rifle, when, directed by the finger of his companion, the stranger came
under his view. Then lowering the dangerous muzzle, he stretched forward his
long neck, as if to assist a scrutiny that was already intensely keen.
“The imp is not a
Huron,” he said, “nor of any of the Canada tribes! and yet you see by his
clothes, the knave has been plundering a white. Ay, Montcalm, has raked the
woods for his inroad, and a whooping, murdering set of varlets has he gathered
together! Can you see where he has put his rifle, or his bow?”
“He appears to have no
arms; nor does he seem to be viciously inclined. Unless he communicate the
alarm to his fellows, who, as you see, are dodging about the water, we have but
little to fear from him.”
The scout turned to
Heyward, and regarded him a moment with unconcealed amazement. Then opening wide
his mouth, he indulged in unrestrained and heartfelt laughter, though in that
silent and peculiar manner, which danger had so long taught him to practise.
Repeating the words, “fellows
who are dodging about the water!” he added, “so much for schooling and passing
a boyhood in the settlements! The knave has long legs though, and shall not be
trusted. Do you keep him under your rifle, while I creep in behind, through the
bush, and take him alive. Fire on no account.”
Heyward had already
permitted his companion to bury part of his person in the thicket, when
stretching forth an arm, he arrested him, in order to ask--
“If I see you in
danger, may I not risk a shot?”
Hawk-eye regarded him a
moment, like one who knew not how to take the question; then nodding his head,
he answered, still laughing, though inaudibly--
“Fire a whole platoon,
major.”
In the next moment he
was concealed by the leaves. Duncan waited several minutes in feverish
impatience, before he caught another glimpse of the scout. Then he re-appeared,
creeping along the earth, from which his dress was hardly distinguishable,
directly in the rear of his intended captive. Having reached within a few yards
of the latter, he arose to his feet, silently and slowly. At that instant,
several loud blows were struck on the water, and Duncan turned his eyes just in
time to perceive that a hundred dark forms were plunging, in a body, into the
troubled little sheet. Grasping his rifle, his looks were again bent on the
Indian near him. Instead of taking the alarm, the unconscious savage stretched
forward his neck, as if he also watched the movements about the gloomy lake,
with a sort of silly curiosity. In the mean time, the uplifted hand of Hawk-eye
was above him. But, without any apparent reason, it was withdrawn, and its
owner indulged in another long, though still silent, fit of merriment. When the
peculiar and hearty laughter of Hawk-eye was ended, instead of grasping his
victim, by the throat, he tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and exclaimed
aloud--
“How now, friend! have
you a mind to teach the beavers to sing?”
“Even so,” was the
ready answer. “It would seem that the Being that gave them power to improve his
gifts so well, would not deny them voices to proclaim his praise.”
Hot. “Are we all met?”
Qui. “Pat--pat; and here’s a
marvellous Convenient place for our rehearsal.”
--Shakspeare.
The reader may better
imagine, than we describe, the surprise of Heyward. His lurking Indians were
suddenly converted into four-footed beasts; his lake into a beaver pond; his
cataract into a dam, constructed by those industrious and ingenious quadrupeds;
and a suspected enemy into his tried friend, David Gamut, the master of
psalmody. The presence of the latter created so many unexpected hopes relative
to the sisters, that, without a moment’s hesitation, the young man broke out of
his ambush, and sprang forward to join the two principal actors in the scene.
The merriment of
Hawk-eye was not easily appeased. Without ceremony, and with a rough hand, he
twirled the supple Gamut around on his heel, and more than once affirmed that
the Hurons had done themselves great credit in the fashion of his costume. Then
seizing the hand of the other, he squeezed it with a gripe that brought the
tears into the eyes of the placid David, and wished him joy of his new
condition.
“You were about opening
your throat-practysings among the beavers, were ye!” he said. “The cunning
devils know half the trade already, for they beat the time with their tails, as
you heard just now; and in good time it was too, or ‘kill-deer’ might have
sounded the first note among them. I have known greater fools, who could read
and write, than an experienced old beaver; but as for squalling, the animals
are born dumb!--What think you of such a song as this?”
David shut his
sensitive ears, and even Heyward. apprised as he was of the nature of the cry,
looked upward in quest of the bird, as the cawing of a crow rang in the air
about them.
“See,” continued the
laughing scout, as he pointed towards the remainder of the party, who, in
obedience to the signal, were already approaching; “this is music, which has
its natural virtues; it brings two good rifles to my elbow, to say nothing of
the knives and tomahawks. But we see that you are safe; now tell us what has
become of the maidens.”
“They are captives to
the heathen,” said David; “and though greatly troubled in spirit, enjoying
comfort and safety in the body.”
“Both?” demanded the
breathless Heyward.
“Even so. Though our
wayfaring has been sore, and our sustenance scanty, we have had little other
cause for complaint, except the violence done our feelings, by being thus led
in captivity into a far land.”
“Bless ye for these
very words!” exclaimed the trembling Munro; “I shall then receive my babes
spotless, and angel like, as I lost them!”
“I know not that their
delivery is at hand,” returned the doubting David; “the leader of these savages
is possessed of an evil spirit, that no power, short of Omnipotence, can tame.
I have tried him, sleeping and waking, but neither sounds nor language seem to
touch his soul.”
“Where is the knave?”
bluntly interrupted the scout.
“He hunts the moose to
day, with his young men; and to-morrow, as I hear, they pass further into these
forests, and nigher to the borders of Canada. The elder maiden is conveyed to a
neighbouring people, whose lodges are situate beyond yonder black pinnacle of
rock; while the younger is detained among the women of the Hurons, whose
dwellings are but two short miles hence, on a table land, where the fire has
done the office of the ax, and prepared the place for their reception.”
“Alice, my gentle
Alice!” murmured Heyward; “she has lost the consolation of her sister’s
presence!”
“Even so. But so far as
praise and thanksgiving in psalmody can temper the spirit in affliction, she
has not suffered.”
“Has she then a heart
for music?”
“Of the graver and more
solemn character; though it must be acknowledged, that in spite of all my
endeavours, the maiden weeps oftener than she smiles. At such moments I forbear
to press the holy songs; but there are many sweet and comfortable periods of
satisfactory communication, when the ears of the savages are astounded with the
upliftings of our voices.”
“And why are you
permitted to go at large, unwatched?”
David composed his
features into what he intended should express an air of modest humility, before
he meekly replied--
“Little be the praise
to such a worm as I. But, though the power of psalmody was suspended in the
terrible business of that field of blood, through which we passed, it has
recovered its influence, even over the souls of the heathen, and I am suffered
to go and come at will.”
The scout laughed, and
tapping his own forehead significantly, he perhaps explained the singular
indulgence more satisfactorily, when he said--
“The Indians never harm
a non-composser. But why, when the path lay open before your eyes, did you not
strike back on your own trail, (it is not so blind as that which a squirrel
would make,) and bring in the tidings to Edward?”
The scout, remembering
only his own sturdy and iron nature, had probably exacted a task, that David,
under no circumstances, could have performed. But, without entirely losing the
meekness of his air, the latter was content to answer--
“Though my soul would
rejoice to visit the habitations of christendom once more, my feet would rather
follow the tender spirits intrusted to my keeping, even into the idolatrous
province of the Jesuits, than take one step backward, while they pined in
captivity and sorrow.”
Though the figurative
language of David was not very intelligible to all who heard him, the sincere
and steady expression of his eye, and the glow on his honest countenance, were
not easily mistaken. Uncas pressed closer to his side, and regarded the speaker
with a look of grave commendation, while his father expressed his satisfaction
by the ordinary pithy exclamation of approbation. The scout shook his head, as
he rejoined--
“The Lord never
intended that the man should place all his endeavours in his throat, to the
neglect of other and better gifts! But he has fallen into the hands of some
silly woman, when he should have been gathering his education under a blue sky,
and among the beauties of the forest. Here, friend; I did intend to kindle a
fire with this tooting whistle of thine, but as you value the thing, take it,
and blow your best on it!”
Gamut received his
pitch-pipe with as strong an expression of pleasure, as he believed it
compatible with the grave functions he exercised, to exhibit. After essaying
its virtues, repeatedly, in contrast with his own voice, and satisfying himself
that none of its melody was lost, he made a very serious demonstration towards
achieving a few stanzas of one of the longest effusions in the little volume,
so often mentioned.
Heyward, however,
hastily interrupted his pious purpose, by continuing questions concerning the
past and present condition of his fellow captives, and in a manner more
methodical than had been permitted by his feelings in the opening of their
interview. David, though he regarded his treasure with longing eyes, was
constrained to answer; especially, as the venerable father took a part in the
interrogatories, with an interest too imposing to be denied. Nor did the scout
fail to throw in a pertinent inquiry, whenever a fitting occasion presented. In
this manner, though with frequent interruptions, which were filled with certain
threatening sounds from the recovered instrument, the pursuers were put in
possession of such leading circumstances, as were likely to prove useful in
accomplishing their great and engrossing object--the recovery of the sisters.
The narrative of David was simple, and the facts but few.
Magua had waited on the
mountain until a safe moment to retire presented itself, when he had descended,
and taken the route along the western side of the Horican, in the direction of
the Canadas. As the subtle Huron was familiar with the paths, and well knew
there was no immediate danger of pursuit, their progress had been moderate, and
far from fatiguing. It appeared, from the unembellished statement of David,
that his own presence had been rather endured than desired; though even Magua
had not been entirely exempt from that veneration with which the Indians regard
those whom the Great Spirit has visited in their intellects. At night, the
utmost care had been taken of the captives, both to prevent injury from the
damps of the woods, and to guard against an escape. At the spring, the horses
were turned loose, as has been seen; and notwithstanding the remoteness and
length of their trail, the artifices already named were resorted to, in order
to cut off every clue to their place of retreat. On their arrival at the
encampment of his people, Magua, in obedience to a policy seldom departed from,
separated his prisoners. Cora had been sent to a tribe that temporarily
occupied an adjacent valley, though David was far too ignorant of the customs
and history of the natives, to be able to declare any thing satisfactory
concerning their name or character. He only knew that they had not engaged in
the late expedition against William Henry; that, like the Hurons themselves,
they were allies of Montcalm; and that they maintained an amicable, though a
watchful, intercourse with the warlike and savage people, whom chance had, for
a time, brought in such close and disagreeable contact with themselves.
The Mohicans and the
scout listened to his interrupted and imperfect narrative, with an interest
that obviously increased as he proceeded, and it was while attempting to explain
the pursuits of the community, in which Cora was detained, that the latter
abruptly demanded--
“Did you see the
fashion of their knives? were they of English or French formation?”
“My thoughts were bent
on no such vanities, but rather mingled in consolation with those of the
maidens.”
“The time may come when
you will not consider the knife of a savage such a despisable vanity,” returned
the scout, with a strong expression of contempt for the other’s dulness. “Had
they held their cornfeast--or can you say any thing of the totems of their
tribe?”
“Of corn, we had many
and plentiful feasts; for the grain, being in the milk, is both sweet to the
mouth and comfortable to the stomach. Of totem, I know not the meaning; but if
it appertaineth in any wise to the art of Indian music, it need not be inquired
after at their hands. They never join their voices in praise, and it would seem
that they are among the profanest of the idolatrous.”
“Therein you behe the
nature of an Indian. Even the Mingo adores but the true and living God! ’Tis a
wicked fabrication of the whites, and I say it to the shame of my colour, that
would make the warrior bow down before images of his own creation. It is true,
they endeavour to make truces with the wicked one--as who would not with an
enemy he cannot conquer--but they look up for favour and assistance to the
Great and Good Spirit only.”
“It may be so,” said
David; “but I have seen strange and fantastic images drawn in their paint, of
which their admiration and care, savoured of spiritual pride; especially one,
and that too a foul and loathsome object.”
“Was it a sarpent?”
quickly demanded the scout.
“Much the same. It was
in the likeness of an abject and creeping tortoise!”
“Hugh!” exclaimed both
the attentive Mohicans in a breath; while the scout shook his head with the air
of one who had made an important, but by no means pleasing discovery. Then the
father spoke, in the language of the Delawares, and with a calmness and dignity
that instantly arrested the attention even of those, to whom his words were
unintelligible. His gestures were impressive, and, at times, energetic. Once he
lifted his arm on high, and as it descended, the action threw aside the folds
of his light mantle, a finger resting on his breast, as if he would enforce his
meaning by the attitude. Duncan’s eyes followed the movement, and he perceived
that the animal just mentioned was beautifully, though faintly, worked in a
blue tint, on the swarthy breast of the chief. All that he had ever heard of
the violent separation of the vast tribes of the Delawares, rushed across his
mind, and he awaited the proper moment to speak, with a suspense that was
rendered nearly intolerable, by his interest in the stake. His wish, however,
was anticipated by the scout, who turned from his red friend, saying--
“We have found that
which may be good or evil to us, as Heaven disposes. The Sagamore is of the
high blood of the Delawares, and is the great chief of their Tortoises! That
some of this stock are among the people of whom the singer tells us, is plain,
by his words; and had he but spent half the breath in prudent questions, that
he has blown away in making a trumpet of his throat, we might have known how
many warriors they numbered. It is, altogether, a dangerous path we move in;
for a friend whose face is turned from you, often bears a bloodier mind, than
the enemy who seeks your scalp!”
“Explain,” said Duncan.
“’Tis a long and
melancholy tradition, and one I little like to think of; for it is not to be
denied, that the evil has been mainly done by men with white skins. But it has
ended in turning the tomahawk of brother against brother, and brought the Mingo
and the Delaware to travel in the same path.”
“You then suspect it is
a portion of that people among whom Cora resides?”
The scout nodded his
head in assent, though he seemed anxious to waive the further discussion of a
subject that appeared painful. The impatient Duncan now made several hasty and
desperate propositions to attempt the release of the sisters. Munro seemed to
shake off his dull apathy, and listened to the wild schemes of the young man,
with a deference that his gray hairs and reverend years should have denied. But
the scout, after suffering the ardour of the lover to expend itself a little,
found means to convince him of the folly of precipitation, in a matter that
would require their coolest judgment and utmost fortitude.
“It would be well,” he
added, “to let this man go in again, as usual, and for him to tarry in the
lodges, giving notice to the gentle ones of our approach, until we call him
out, by signal, to consult. You know the cry of a crow, friend, from the
whistle of the whip-poor-will?”
“’Tis a pleasing bird,”
returned David, “and has a soft and melancholy note! though the time is rather
quick and ill-measured.”
“He speaks of the
wish-ton-wish,” said the scout; “well, since you like his whistle, it shall be
your signal. Remember, then, when you hear the whippoor-will’s call three times
repeated, you are to come into the bushes, where the bird might be supposed--”
“Stop,” interrupted
Heyward; “I will accompany him.”
“You!” exclaimed the
astonished Hawk-eye; “are you tired of seeing the sun rise and set?”
“David is a living
proof that the Hurons can be merciful.”
“Ay, but David can use
his throat, as no man, in his senses, would pervart the gift.”
“I too can play the
madman, the fool, the hero; in short, any or every thing, to rescue her I love
from such a captivity. Name your objections no longer; I am resolved.”
Hawk-eye regarded the
young man a moment in speechless amazement. But Duncan, who, in deference to
the other’s skill and services, had hitherto submitted somewhat implicitly to
his dictation, now assumed the superior, with a loftiness of manner, that was not
easily resisted. He waved his hand, in sign of his dislike to all remonstrance,
and then, in more tempered language, he continued--
“You have the means of
disguise; change me; paint me too, if you will; in short, alter me to any
thing--a fool.”
“It is not for one like
me to say that he who is already formed by so powerful a hand as Providence,
stands in need of a change,” muttered the discontented scout. “When you send
your parties abroad in war, you find it prudent, at least, to arrange the marks
and places of encampment, in order that they who fight on your side, may know
when and where to expect a friend?”
“Listen,” interrupted
Duncan; “you have heard from this faithful follower of the captives, that the
Indians are of two tribes, if not of different nations. With one, whom you
think to be a branch of the Delawares, is she you call the ‘dark-hair;’ the
other, and younger of the ladies, is undeniably with our declared enemies, the
Hurons. It becomes my youth and rank to attempt the latter adventure. While
you, therefore, are negotiating with your friends for the release of one of the
sisters, I will effect that of the other, or die.”
The awakened spirit of
the young soldier gleamed in his eyes, and his form dilated, and became
imposing under its influence. Hawk-eye, though too much accustomed to Indian
artifices not to foresee all the danger of the experiment, knew not well how to
combat this sudden resolution. Perhaps there was something in the proposal that
suited his own hardy nature, and that secret love of desperate adventure, which
had increased with his daily experience, until hazard and danger had become, in
some measure, necessary to the enjoyment of his existence. Instead of
continuing to oppose the scheme of Duncan, his humour suddenly altered, and he
lent himself to its execution.
“Come,” he said, with a
good humoured smile; “the buck that will take to the water must be headed, and
not followed! Chingachgook has as many different paints, as the engineer
officer’s wife, who takes down natur on scraps of paper, making the mountains
look like cocks of rusty hay, and placing the blue sky in reach of your
hand--the Sagamore can use them too! Seat yourself on the log, and my life on
it, he can soon make a natural fool of you, and that, well, to your liking.”
Duncan complied, and
the Mohican, who had been an attentive listener to the discourse, readily
undertook the office. Long practised in all the subtle arts of his race, he
drew, with great dexterity and quickness, the fantastic shadow that the natives
were accustomed to consider as the evidence of a friendly and jocular
disposition. Every line that could possibly be interpreted into a secret
inclination for war, was carefully avoided; while, on the other hand, he
studied those conceits that might be construed into a wish for amity. In short,
he entirely sacrificed every appearance of the warrior, to the masquerade of a
buffoon. Such exhibitions were not uncommon among the Indians; and as Duncan
was already sufficiently disguised in his dress, there certainly did exist some
reason for believing, that with his knowledge of French, he might pass for a
juggler from Ticonderoga, straggling among the allied and friendly tribes.
When he was thought to
be sufficiently painted, the scout gave him much friendly advice; concerted
signals, and appointed the place where they should meet, in the event of mutual
success. The parting between Munro and his young friend was more melancholy and
feeling; still, the former submitted to the separation with an indifference,
that his warm and honest nature would never have permitted in a more healthful
state of mind. The scout led Heyward aside, and acquainted him with his
intention to leave the veteran in some safe encampment, in charge of
Chingachgook, while he and Uncas pursued their inquiries among the people they
had reason to believe were Delawares. Then renewing his cautions and advice, he
concluded, by saying, with a solemnity and warmth of feeling, with which Duncan
was deeply touched--
“And now God bless you!
You have shown a spirit that I like; for it is the gift of youth, more
especially one of warm blood and a stout heart. But believe the warning of a
man, who has reason to know all he says to be true. You will have occasion for
your best manhood, and for a sharper wit than what is to be gathered in books,
afore you outdo the cunning, or get the better of the courage of a Mingo! God
bless you! if the Hurons master your scalp, rely on the promise of one, who has
two stout warriors to back him--They shall pay for their victory, with a life
for every hair it holds! I say, young gentleman, may Providence bless your
undertaking, which is altogether for good; and remember, that to outwit the
knaves it is lawful to practise things, that may not be naturally the gift of a
white skin.”
Duncan shook his worthy
and reluctant associate warmly by the hand, once more recommended his aged
friend to his care, and returning his good wishes, he motioned to David to
proceed. Hawkeye gazed after the high-spirited and adventurous young man for
several moments, in open admiration; then shaking his head, doubtingly, he
turned, and led his own division of the party into the concealment of the
forest.
The route taken by
Duncan and David, lay directly across the clearing of the beavers, and along
the margin of their pond. When the former found himself alone with one so
simple, and so little qualified to render any assistance in desperate
emergencies, he first began to be sensible of the difficulties of the task he
had undertaken. The fading light increased the gloominess of the bleak and
savage wilderness, that stretched so far on every side of him, and there was
even a fearful character in the stillness of those little huts, that he knew
were so abundantly peopled. It struck him, as he gazed at the admirable
structures, and the wonderful precautions of their sagacious immates, that even
the brutes of these vast wilds were possessed of an instinct nearly
commensurate with his own practised reason; and he could not reflect, without
anxiety, on the unequal contest that he had so rashly courted. Then came the
glowing image of Alice; her distress; her actual danger; and all the peril of
his situation faded before her loveliness. Cheering David with his voice, he
moved more swiftly onward, with the light and vigorous step of youth and
enterprise.
After making nearly a
semi-circle around the pond, they diverged from the water-course, and began to
ascend to the level of a slight elevation in that bottom land, over which they
journeyed. Within half an hour they gained the margin of another opening, that
bore all the signs of having been also made by the beavers, and which those
sagacious animals had probably been induced, by some accident, to abandon, for
the more eligible position they now occupied. A very natural sensation caused
Duncan to hesitate a moment, unwilling to leave the cover of their bushy path,
as a man pauses to collect his energies, before he essays any hazardous
experiment, in which he is secretly conscious they will all be needed. He
profited by the halt, to gather such information as might be obtained from his
short and hasty glances.
On the opposite side of
the clearing, and near the point where the brook tumbled over some rocks, from
a still higher level, some fifty or sixty lodges, rudely fabricated of logs,
brush, and earth, intermingled, were to be discovered. They were arranged
without any order, and seemed to be constructed with very little attention to
their neatness or beauty. Indeed, so very inferior were they, in the two latter
particulars, to the village Duncan had just seen, that he began to expect a
second surprise, no less astonishing than the former. This expectation was in
no degree diminished, when, by the doubtful twilight, he beheld twenty or
thirty forms, rising alternately, from the cover of the tall, coarse grass, in
front of the lodges, and then sinking again from the sight, as it were to
burrow in the earth. By the sudden and hasty glimpses that he caught of these
figures, they seemed more like dark glancing spectres, or some other unearthly
beings, than creatures fashioned with the ordinary and vulgar materials of
flesh and blood. A gaunt, naked form, was seen, for a single instant, tossing
its arms wildly in the air, and then the spot it had filled was vacant; the
figure appearing, suddenly, in some other and distant place, or being succeeded
by another, possessing the same mysterious character. David, observing that his
companion lingered, pursued the direction of his gaze, and in some measure
recalled the recollection of Heyward, by speaking--
“There is much fruitful
soil uncultivated here,” he said; “and I may add, without the sinful leaven of
self-commendation, that, since my short sojourn in these heathenish abodes,
much good seed has been scattered by the way-side.”
“The tribes are fonder
of the chase, than of the arts of men of labour,” returned the unconscious
Duncan, still gazing at the objects of his wonder.
“It is rather joy than
labour to the spirit, to lift up the voice in praise; but sadly do these boys
abuse their gifts! Rarely have I found any of their age, on whom nature has so
freely bestowed the elements of psalmody; and surely, surely, there are none
who neglect them more. Three nights have I now tarried here, and three several
times have I assembled the urchins to join in sacred song, and as often have
they responded to my efforts with whoopings and howlings that have chilled my
inmost soul!”
“Of whom speak you?”
“Of those children of
the devil, who waste their precious moments in yonder idle antics. Ah! the
wholesome restraint of discipline is but little known among this self-abandoned
people! In a country of birches, a rod is never seen; and it ought not to
appear a marvel in my eyes, that the choicest blessings of Providence are wasted
in such cries as these.”
David closed his ears
against the juvenile pack, whose yells just then rang shrilly through the
forest; and Duncan, suffering his lip to curl in a proud smile, as in mockery
at his own momentary superstition, said firmly--
“We will proceed.”
Without removing the
safeguards from his ears, the master of song complied, and together they
pursued their way, boldly, towards what David was sometimes wont to call “the
tents of the Philistines.”
--“But though the beast of game The
privilege of chase may claim;
Though space and law
the stag we lend,
Ere hound we slip, or
bow we bend;
Whoever recked, where,
how, or when,
The prowling fox was
trapped or slain.”
--
It is unusual to find
an encampment of the natives, like those of the more instructed whites, guarded
by the presence of armed men. Well informed of the approach of every danger,
while it is yet at a distance, the Indian generally rests secure under his knowledge
of the signs of the forest, and the long and difficult paths that separate him
from those he has most reason to dread. But the enemy who, by any lucky
concurrence of accidents, has found means to elude the vigilance of the scouts,
will seldom meet with sentinels nearer home to sound the alarm. In addition to
this general usage, the tribes friendly to the French king knew too well the
weight of the blow that had just been struck, to apprehend any immediate danger
from the hostile nations that were tributary to the crown of Britain.
When Duncan and David,
therefore, found themselves in the centre of the busy children, who played the
antics already mentioned, it was without the least previous intimation of their
approach. But so soon as they were observed, the whole of the juvenile pack
raised, by common consent, a single shrill and warning whoop; and then sunk, as
it were, by magic, from before the sight of their visiters. The naked, tawny
bodies of the crouching urchins, blended so nicely, at that hour, with the
withered herbage, that at first it seemed as if the earth had, in truth,
swallowed up their forms; though when surprise had permitted Duncan to bend his
own wondering looks more curiously about the spot, he found them every where
met by dark, quick, and rolling eye-balls.
Gathering no
encouragement from this startling presage, of the nature of the scrutiny he was
likely to undergo from the more mature judgments of the men, there was an
instant when the young soldier would gladly have retreated. It was, however,
too late to appear even to hesitate. The cry of the children had drawn a dozen
warriors to the door of the nearest lodge, where they stood, clustered in a
dark and savage groupe, gravely awaiting the nearer approach of those who had
thus unexpectedly come among them.
David, in some measure
familiarized to the scene, led the way, with a steadiness that no slight
obstacle was likely to disconcert, into this very building. It was the
principal edifice of the village, though roughly constructed of the bark and
branches of trees; being the lodge in which the tribe held its councils and
public meetings, during their temporary residence on the borders of the English
province. Duncan found it difficult to assume the necessary appearance of unconcern,
as he brushed the dark and powerful frames of the savages who thronged its
threshold; but, conscious that his existence depended on his presence of mind,
he trusted to the discretion of his companion, whose footsteps he closely
followed, endeavouring, as he proceeded, to rally his thoughts for the
occasion. His blood had stagnated for a moment, when he found himself in
absolute contact with such fierce and implacable enemies; but he so far
mastered his feelings, as to pursue his way into the centre of the lodge, with
an exterior that did not betray the weakness. Imitating the example of the
deliberate Gamut, he drew a bundle of fragrant brush from beneath a pile, that
filled a corner of the hut, and seated himself, in silence.
So soon as their
visiter had passed, the observant warriors fell back from the entrance, and
arranging themselves about him, they seemed patiently to await the moment when
it might comport with the dignity of the stranger to speak. By far the greater
number stood leaning, in lazy, lounging attitudes, against the upright posts
that supported the crazy building, while three or four of the oldest and most
distinguished of the chiefs placed themselves, in their ordinary manner, on the
earth, a little more in advance.
A flaring torch was
burning in the place, and sent its red glare from face to face, and figure to
figure, as it wavered, incostantly, in the currents of air. Duncan profited by
its light, to read, with jealous looks, the probable character of his
reception, in the countenances of his hosts. But his ingenuity availed him
little, against the cold artifices of the people he had encountered. The chiefs
in front scarce cast a glance at his person, keeping their eyes fastened on the
ground, with an air that might have been intended for respect, but which it was
quite easy to construe into distrust. The men, in shadow, were less reserved.
Duncan soon detected their searching, but stolen looks, which, in truth,
scanned his person and attire inch by inch; leaving no emotion of the countenance,
no gesture, no line of the paint, nor even the fashion of a garment, unheeded,
and without its secret comment.
At length, one whose
hair was beginning to be sprinkled with gray, but whose sinewy limbs and firm
tread announced that he was still equal to the arduous duties of manhood,
advanced from out the gloom of a corner, whither he had probably posted himself
to make his observations unseen, and spoke. He used the language of the
Wyandots, or Hurons: his words were, consequently, unintelligible to Heyward,
though they seemed, by the gestures that accompanied them, to be uttered more
in courtesy than anger. The latter shook his head, and made a gesture
indicative of his inability to reply.
“Do none of my brothers
speak the French or the English?” he said, in the former language, looking
about him, from countenance to countenance, in hopes of finding a nod of
assent.
Though more than one
head turned, as if to catch the meaning of his words, they remained unanswered.
“I should be grieved to
think,” continued Duncan, speaking slowly, and using the simplest French of
which he was the master, “to believe that none of this wise and brave nation
understand the language that the ‘Grand Monarque’ uses, when he talks to his
children. His heart would be heavy, did he believe his red warriors paid him so
little respect!”
A long and grave pause
succeeded, during which no movement of a limb, nor any expression of an eye,
betrayed the impression produced by his remark. Duncan, who knew that silence
was a virtue amongst his hosts, gladly had recourse to the custom, in order to
arrange his ideas. At length, the same warrior, who had before addressed him,
replied, by dryly demanding, in the slight patois of the Canadas--
“When our Great Father
speaks to his people, is it with the tongue of a Huron?”
“He knows no difference
in his children, whether the colour of the skin be red, or black, or white,”
returned Duncan, evasively; “though chiefly is he satisfied with the brave
Hurons.”
“In what manner will he
speak,” demanded the wary chief, “when the runners count, to him, the scalps
which five nights ago grew on the heads of the Yengeese?”
“They were his enemies,”
said Duncan, shuddering involuntarily; “and, doubtless, he will say it is
good--my Hurons are very valiant.”
“Our Canada father does
not think it. Instead of looking forward to reward his Indians, his eyes are
turned backward. He sees the dead Yengeese, but no Huron. What can this mean?”
“A great chief, like
him, has more thoughts than tongues. He looks to see that no enemies are on his
trail.”
“The canoe of a dead
warrior will not float on the Horican,” returned the savage, gloomily. “His
ears are open to the Delawares, who are not our friends, and they fill them
with lies.”
“It cannot be. See; he
has bid me, who am a man that knows the art of healing, to go to his children,
the red Hurons of the Great Lakes, and ask if any are sick!”
Another long and deep
silence succeeded this annunciation of the character Duncan had assumed. Every
eye was simultaneously bent on his person, as if to inquire into the truth or
falsehood of the declaration, with an intelligence and keenness, that caused
the subject of their scrutiny to tremble for the result. He was, however,
relieved again, by the former speaker.
“Do the cunning men of
the Canadas paint their skins,” the Huron, coldly, continued; “we have heard
them boast that their faces were pale?”
“When an Indian chief
comes among his white fathers,” returned Duncan, with great steadiness, “he
lays aside his buffalo robe, to carry the shirt that is offered him. My
brothers have given me paint, and I wear it.”
A low murmur of
applause announced that the compliment to the tribe was favourably received.
The elderly chief made a gesture of commendation, which was answered by most of
his companions, who each threw forth a hand, and uttered the usual brief
exclamation of pleasure. Duncan began to breathe more freely, believing that
the weight of his examination was past; and as he had already prepared a simple
and probable tale to support his pretended occupation, his hopes of ultimate
success grew brighter.
After a silence of a
few moments, as if adjusting his thoughts, in order to make a suitable answer
to the declaration their guest had just given, another warrior arose, and
placed himself in an attitude to speak. While his lips were yet in the act of
parting, a low, but fearful sound, arose from the forest, and was immediately
succeeded by a high, shrill yell, that was drawn out, until it equalled the
longest and most plaintive howl of the wolf. The sudden and terrible
interruption caused Duncan to start from his seat, unconscious of every thing,
but the effect produced by so frightful a cry. At the same moment, the warriors
glided in a body from the lodge, and the outer air was filled with loud shouts,
that nearly drowned those awful sounds, which the organs of Duncan occasionally
announced, were still ringing beneath the arches of the woods. Unable to
command himself any longer, the youth broke from the place, and presently stood
in the centre of a disorderly throng, that included nearly every thing having
life, within the limits of the encampment. Men, women, and children; the aged,
the infirm, the active, and the strong, were alike abroad; some exclaiming
aloud, others clapping their hands with a joy that seemed frantic, and all
expressing their savage pleasure in some unexpected event. Though astounded, at
first, by the uproar, Heyward was soon enabled to find its solution by the
scene that followed.
There yet lingered
sufficient light in the heavens, to exhibit those bright openings among the
tree-tops, where different paths left the clearing to enter the depths of the
wilderness. Beneath one of them, a line of warriors issued from the woods, and
advanced slowly towards the dwellings. One in front bore a short pole, on
which, as it afterwards appeared, were suspended several human scalps. The
startling sounds that Duncan had heard, were what the whites have, not
inappropriately, called the “deathhalloo;” and each repetition of the cry was
intended to announce to the tribe, the fate of an enemy. Thus far the knowledge
of Heyward assisted him in the explanation; and as he now knew that the
interruption was caused by the unlooked-for return of a successful war-party, every
disaggreeable sensation was quieted, in inward congratulations, for the
opportune relief and insignificance it conferred on himself.
When at the distance of
a few hundred feet from the lodges, the newly arrived warriors halted. Their
plaintive and terrific cry, which was intended to represent, equally, the
wailings of the dead and the triumph of the victors, had entirely ceased. One of
their number now called aloud, in words that were far from appalling, though
not more intelligible to those for whose ears they were intended, than their
expressive yells. It would be difficult to convey a suitable idea of the savage
ecstacy with which the news, thus imparted, was received. The whole encampment,
in a moment, became a scene of the most violent bustle and commotion. The
warriors drew their knives, and flourishing them on high, they arranged
themselves in two lines, forming a lane, that extended from the war-party to
the lodges. The squaws seized clubs, axes, or whatever weapon of offence first
offered itself to their hands, and rushed eagerly to act their part in the
cruel game that was at hand. Even the children would not be excluded; but boys,
little able to wield the instruments, tore the tomahawks from the belts of
their fathers, and stole into the ranks, apt imitators of the savage traits
exhibited by their parents.
Large piles of brush
lay scattered about the clearing, and a wary and aged squaw was occupied in
firing as many as might serve to light the coming exhibition. As the flame
arose, its power exceeded that of the parting day, and assisted to render
objects, at the same time, more distinct and more hideous. The whole scene
formed a striking picture, whose frame was composed by the dark and tall border
of pines. The warriors just arrived were the most distant figures. A little in
advance, stood two men, who were apparently selected from the rest, as the
principal actors in what was to follow. The light was not strong enough to
render their features distinct, though it was quite evident, that they were
governed by very different emotions. While one stood erect and firm, prepared
to meet his fate like a hero, the other bowed his head, as if palsied by
terror, or stricken with shame. The high spirited Duncan felt a powerful
impulse of admiration and pity towards the former, though no opportunity could
offer to exhibit his generous emotions. He watched his slightest movement,
however, with eager eyes; and as he traced the fine outline of his admirably
proportioned and active frame, he endeavoured to persuade himself, that if the
powers of man, seconded by such noble resolution, could bear one harmless
through so severe a trial, the youthful captive before him, might hope for
success in the hazardous race he was about to run. Insensibly, the young man
drew nigher to the swarthy lines of the Hurons, and scarcely breathed, so
intense became his interest in the spectacle. Just then the signal yell was
given, and the momentary quiet, which had preceded it, was broken by a burst of
cries, that far exceeded any before heard. The most abject of the two victims
continued motionless; but the other bounded from the place, at the cry, with
the activity and swiftness of a deer. Instead of rushing through the hostile
lines, as had been expected, he just entered the dangerous defile, and before
time was given for a single blow, turned short, and leaping the heads of a row
of children, he gained at once the exterior and safer side of the formidable
array. The artifice was answered by a hundred voices raised in imprecations,
and the whole of the excited multitude broke from their order, and spread
themselves about the place in wild confusion.
A dozen blazing piles
now shed their lurid brightness on the place, which resembled some unhallowed
and supernatural arena, in which malicious demons had assembled to act their
bloody and lawless rites. Those forms in the back ground, looked like unearthly
beings, gliding before the eye, and cleaving the air with frantic and unmeaning
gestures; while the savage passions of such as passed the flames, were rendered
fearfully distinct, by the gleams that shot athwart their dusky but inflamed
visages.
It will easily be
understood, that amid such a concourse of vindictive enemies, no breathing time
was permitted to the fugitive. There was a single moment, when it seemed as if
he would have reached the forest, but the whole body of his captors threw
themselves before him, and drove him back into the centre of his relentless
persecutors. Turning like a headed deer, he shot, with the swiftness of an
arrow, through a pillar of forked flame, and passing the whole multitude
harmless, he appeared on the opposite side of the clearing. Here, too, he was
met and turned by a few of the older and more subtle of the Hurons. Once more
he tried the throng, as if seeking safety in its blindness, and then several
moments succeeded, during which Duncan believed the active and courageous young
stranger was irretrievably lost.
Nothing could be
distinguished but a dark mass of human forms, tossed and involved in
inexplicable confusion. Arms, gleaming knives, and formidable clubs, appeared
above them, but the blows were evidently given at random. The awful effect was
heightened by the piercing shrieks of the women, and the fierce yells of the
warriors. Now and then, Duncan caught a glimpse of a light form cleaving the
air in some desperate bound, and he rather hoped than believed, that the
captive yet retained the command of his astonishing powers of activity.
Suddenly, the multitude rolled backward, and approached the spot where he
himself stood. The heavy body in the rear pressed upon the women and children
in front, and bore them to the earth. The stranger re-appeared in the
confusion. Human power could not, however, much longer endure so severe a
trial. Of this the captive seemed conscious. Profiting by the momentary
opening, he darted from among the warriors, and made a desperate, and what
seemed to Duncan, a final effort to gain the wood. As if aware that no danger
was to be apprehended from the young soldier, the fugitive nearly brushed his
person in his flight. A tall and powerful Huron, who had husbanded his forces,
pressed close upon his heels, and with an uplifted arm, menaced a fatal blow.
Duncan thrust forth a foot, and the shock precipitated the eager savage,
headlong, many feet in advance of his intended victim. Thought itself is not
quicker than was the motion with which the latter profited by the advantage; he
turned, gleamed like a meteor again before the eyes of Duncan, and at the next
moment, when the latter recovered his recollection, and gazed around in quest
of the captive, he saw him quietly leaning against a small painted post, which
stood before the door of the principal lodge.
Apprehensive that the
part he had taken in the escape might prove fatal to himself, Duncan left the
place without delay. He followed the crowd, which drew nigh the lodges, gloomy
and sullen, like any other multitude that had been disappointed in an
execution. Curiosity, or, perhaps, a better feeling, induced him to approach
the stranger. He found him, standing, with one arm cast about the protecting
post, and breathing thick and hard, after his incredible exertions, but still
disdaining to permit a single sign of suffering to escape. His person was now
protected, by immemorial and sacred usage, until the tribe in council had
deliberated and determined on his fate. It was not difficult, however, to
foretel the result, if any presage could be drawn from the feelings of those
who crowded the place.
There was no term of
abuse known to the Huron vocabulary, that the disappointed women did not
lavishly expend on the successful stranger. They flouted at his efforts, and
told him, with many and bitter scoffs, that his feet were better than his
hands, and that he merited wings, while he knew not the use of an arrow, or a
knife. To all this, the captive made no reply; but was content to preserve an
attitude, in which dignity was singularly blended with disdain. Exasperated as
much by his composure as by his good fortune, their words became
unintelligible, and were succeeded by shrill, piercing yells. Just then, the
crafty squaw, who had taken the necessary precaution to fire the piles, made
her way through the throng, and cleared a place for herself in front of the
captive. The squalid and withered person of this hag, might well have obtained
for her the character of possessing more than human cunning. Throwing back her
light vestment, she stretched forth her long, skinny, arm in derision, and
using the language of the Lenape, as more intelligible to the subject of her
gibes, she commenced aloud.
“Look you, Delaware!”
she said, snapping her fingers in his face; “your nation is a race of women,
and the hoe is better fitted to your hands than the gun! Your squaws are the
mothers of deer; but if a bear, or a wild cat, or a serpent, were born among
you, ye would flee! The Huron girls shall make you petticoats, and we will find
you a husband.”
A loud burst of savage
and taunting laughter succeeded this attack, during which the soft and musical
merriment of the younger females, strangely chimed with the cracked voice of
their older and more malignant companion. But the stranger was superior to all
their efforts. His head was immovable; nor did he betray the slightest
consciousness that any were present, except when his haughty eye rolled proudly
towards the dusky forms of the warriors, who stalked in the back ground, silent
and sullen observers of the scene.
Infuriated at the
self-command of the captive, the woman placed her arms akimbo, and throwing
herself into a posture of defiance, she broke out anew, in a torrent of words,
that no art of ours could commit, successfully, to paper. Her breath was,
however, expended in vain; for, although distinguished in her nation as a
proficient in the art of abuse, she was permitted to work herself into such a
fury, as actually to foam at the mouth, without causing a muscle to vibrate in
the motionless figure of the stranger. The effect of his indifference began to
extend itself to the other spectators; and a youngster, who was just quitting
the condition of a boy, to enter the state of manhood, attempted to assist the
termagant, by flourishing his tomahawk before their victim, and adding his
empty boasts to the taunts of the woman. Then, indeed, the captive turned his
face towards the light, and looked down on the stripling with a loftiness of
expression, that was even superior to contempt. At the next moment, he resumed
his quiet and reclining attitude against the post. But the action and the
change of posture had permitted Duncan to exchange glances with the firm and
piercing eyes of Uncas.
Breathless with
amazement, and heavily oppressed with the critical situation of his friend,
Heyward recoiled before the look, trembling lest its meaning expression might,
in some unknown manner, hasten the prisoner’s fate. There was not, however, any
instant cause for such an apprehension. Just then a warrior forced his way into
the exasperated crowd. Motioning the women and children aside with a stern
gesture, he took Uncas by the arm, and led him towards the door of the council
lodge. Thither all the chiefs, and most of the distinguished warriors, followed,
among whom the anxious Heyward found means to enter, without attracting any
dangerous attention to himself.
A few minutes were
consumed in disposing of those present in a manner suitable to their rank and
influence in the tribe. An order very similar to that adopted in the preceding
interview was observed; the aged and superior chiefs occupying the area of the
spacious apartment, within the powerful light of a glaring torch, while their
juniors and inferiors were arranged in the back ground, presenting a dark
outline to the picture, of swarthy and sternly marked visages. In the very
centre of the lodge, immediately under an opening that admitted the twinkling
light of one or two stars, stood Uncas, calm, elevated, and collected. His high
and haughty carriage was not lost on his captors, who often bent their looks on
his person, with eyes, which, while they lost none of their inflexibility of
purpose, plainly betrayed their admiration of the stranger’s daring.
The case was different
with the individual, whom Duncan had observed to stand forth with his friend,
previously to the desperate trial of speed; and who, instead of joining in the
chase, had remained, throughout all its turbulent uproar, like a cringing
statue, expressive of shame and disgrace. Though not a hand had been extended
to greet him, nor yet an eye had condescended to watch his movements, he had
also entered the lodge, as though impelled by a fate, to whose decrees he
submitted, seemingly, without a struggle. Heyward profited by the first opportunity
to gaze in his face, secretly apprehensive he might find the features of
another acquaintance, but they proved to be those of a stranger, and what was
still more inexplicable, of one who bore all the distinctive marks of a Huron
warrior. Instead of mingling with his tribe, however, he sat apart, a solitary
being in a multitude, his form shrinking into a crouching and abject attitude,
as if anxious to fill as little space as possible. When each individual had
taken his proper station, and a breathing silence reigned in the place, the
gray-haired chief, already introduced to the reader, spoke aloud, in the
language of the Lenni Lenape.
“Delaware,” he said, “though
one of a nation of women, you have proved yourself a man, I would give you
food, but he who eats with a Huron, should become his friend. Rest in peace
till the morning sun, when our words shall be spoken to you.”
“Seven nights, and as
many summer days, have I fasted on the trail of the Hurons,” Uncas coldly
replied; “the children of the Lenape know how to travel the path of the just,
without lingering to eat.”
“Two of my young men
are in pursuit of your companion,” resumed the other, without appearing to
regard the boast of his captive; “when they get back, then will our wise men
say to you--live or die.”
“Has a Huron no ears?”
scornfully exclaimed Uncas; “twice since he has been your prisoner, has the
Delaware heard a gun that he knows! Your young men will never come back.”
A short and sullen
pause succeeded this confident assertion. Duncan, who understood the Mohican to
allude to the fatal rifle of the scout, bent forward in earnest observation of
the effect it might produce on the conquerors; but the chief was content with
simply retorting--
“If the Lenape are so
skilful, why is one of their bravest warriors here?”
“He followed in the
steps of a flying coward, and fell into a snare. The cunning beaver may be
caught!”
As Uncas thus replied,
he pointed with his finger towards the solitary Huron, but without deigning to
bestow any other notice on so unworthy an object. The words of the answer, and
the air of the speaker, produced a powerful sensation among his auditors. Every
eye rolled sullenly toward the individual indicated by the simple gesture, and
a low, threatening murmur, passed through the crowd. The ominous sounds reached
the outer door, and the women and children pressing into the throng, no gap had
been left, between shoulder and shoulder, that was not, now, filled with the
dark lineaments of some eager and curious human countenance.
In the mean time, the
more aged chiefs, in the centre, communed with each other, in short and broken
sentences. Not a word was uttered, that did not convey the meaning of the
speaker, in the simplest and most energetic form. Again, a long and deeply
solemn pause took place. It was known, by all present, to be the grave
precursor of a weighty and important judgment. They who composed the outer
circle of faces, were on tiptoe to gaze; and even the culprit, for an instant,
forgot his shame, in a deeper emotion, and exposed his abject features, in
order to cast an anxious and troubled glance at the dark assemblage of chiefs.
The deep and impressive silence was finally broken by the aged warrior, so
often named. He arose from the earth, and moving past the immovable form of
Uncas, placed himself in a dignified and erect attitude before the offender. At
that moment, the withered squaw, already mentioned, moved into the circle, in a
slow, sideling sort of a dance, holding the torch, and muttering the indistinct
words of what might have been a species of incantation. Though her presence was
altogether an intrusion, it was unheeded.
Approaching Uncas, she
held the blazing brand in such a manner, as to cast its red glare on his
person, and expose the slightest emotion of his countenance. The Mohican chief
maintained his firm and haughty attitude; and his eye, so far from deigning to
meet her inquisitive look, dwelt steadily on the distance, as though it
penetrated the obstacles which impeded the view, and looked deep into futurity.
Satisfied with her examination, she left him, with a slight expression of
pleasure, and proceeded to practise the same trying experiment on her
delinquent countryman.
The young Huron was in
his war paint, and very little of a finely moulded form was concealed by his
attire. The light rendered every limb and joint discernible, and Duncan turned
away in horror, when he saw they were writhing in irrepressible agony. The
woman was commencing a low and plaintive howl, at the sad and shameful
spectacle, when the chief put forth his hand, and gently pushed her aside.
“Reed-that-bends,” he
said, addressing the young culprit by name, and in his proper language, “though
the Great Spirit has made you pleasant to the eyes, it would have been better
that you had not been born. Your tongue is loud in the village, but in battle
it is still. None of my young men strike the tomahawk deeper into the
war-post--none of them so lightly on the Yengeese. The enemy know the shape of
your back, but they have never seen the colour of your eyes. Three times have
they called on you to come, and as often did you forget to answer. Your name
will never be mentioned, again, in your tribe--it is already forgotten.”
As the chief slowly
uttered these words, pausing impressively between each sentence, the culprit
raised his face, in deference to the other’s rank and years. Shame, horror, and
pride, struggled fearfully in its speaking lineaments. His eye, which was
contracted with inward anguish, gleamed around on the persons of those whose
breath was his fame, and the latter emotion, for an instant predominated. He
arose to his feet, and baring his bosom, looked steadily on the keen,
glittering knife, that was already upheld by his inexorable judge. As the
weapon passed slowly into his heart, he even smiled, as if in joy, at having
found death less dreadful than he had anticipated, and fell heavily on his
face, at the feet of the rigid and unyielding form of Uncas.
The squaw gave a loud
and plaintive yell, dashed the torch to the earth, and buried every thing in
darkness. The whole shuddering groupe of spectators glided from the lodge, like
troubled sprites; and Duncan thought that he and the yet throbbing body of the
victim of an Indian judgment, had now become its only tenants.
“Thus spoke the sage:
the kings without delay
Dissolve the council,
and their chief obey.”
Pope’s Iliad
A single moment,
however, served to convince the youth that he was mistaken. A hand was laid,
with a powerful pressure, on his arm, and then the low voice of Uncas muttered
in his ears--
“The Hurons are dogs!
The sight of a coward’s blood can never make a warrior tremble. The ‘gray head’
and the Sagamore are safe, and the rifle of Hawk-eye is not asleep. Go--Uncas
and the ‘open hand’ are now strangers. It is enough.”
Heyward would gladly
have heard more, but a timely effort from his friend, urged him toward the
door, and admonished him of the danger that might attend the discovery of their
intercourse. Slowly and reluctantly yielding to the necessity, he quitted the
place, and mingled with the throng that hovered nigh. The dying fires in the
clearing, cast a dim and uncertain light on the dusky figures, that were
silently stalking to and fro; and, occasionally, a brighter gleam than common
glanced into the darkness of the lodge, and exhibited the figure of Uncas,
still maintaining its upright attitude above the dead body of the Huron.
A knot of warriors soon
entered the place again, and re-issuing, they bore the senseless remains into
the adjacent woods. After this solemn termination of the scene, Duncan wandered
among the lodges, unquestioned and unnoticed, endeavouring to find some trace
of her, in whose behalf he incurred the risk he ran. In the present temper of
the tribe, it would have been easy to have fled and rejoined his companions,
had such a wish crossed his mind. But, in addition to the never-ceasing anxiety
on account of Alice, a fresher, though feebler, interest in the fate of Uncas,
assisted to chain him to the spot. He continued, therefore, to stray from hut
to hut, looking into each only to encounter additional disappointments, until
he had made the entire circuit of the village. Abandoning a species of inquiry
that proved so fruitless, he retraced his steps to the council lodge, resolved
to seek and question David, in order to put an end to doubts that were becoming
painful.
On reaching the
building, which had proved alike the seat of judgment and the place of
execution, the young man found that the excitement had already subsided. The
warriors had re-assembled, and were now calmly smoking, while they conversed
gravely on the chief incidents of their recent expedition to the head of the
Horican. Though the return of Duncan was likely to remind them of his
character, and the suspicious circumstances of his visit, it produced no
visible sensation. So far, the terrible scene that had just occurred, proved
favourable to his views, and he required no other prompter than his own feelings
to convince, him of the expediency of profiting by so unexpected an advantage.
Without seeming to
hesitate, he walked into the lodge, and took his seat with a gravity that
accorded, admirably, with the deportment of his hosts. A hasty, but searching
glance, sufficed to tell him, that though Uncas still remained where he had
left him, David had not re-appeared. No other restraint was imposed on the
former, than the watchful looks of a young Huron, who had placed himself at
hand; though an armed warrior leaned against the post that formed one side of
the narrow door-way. In every other respect, the captive seemed at liberty;
still, he was excluded from all participation in the discourse, and possessed
much more of the air of some finely moulded statue, than of a man having life
and volition.
Heyward had, too
recently, witnessed a frightful instance of the prompt punishments of the
people, into whose hands he had fallen, to hazard an exposure by any officious
boldness. He would greatly have preferred silence and meditation to speech,
when a discovery of his real condition might prove so instantly fatal.
Unfortunately for this prudent resolution, his entertainers appeared otherwise
disposed. He had not long occupied the seat he had wisely taken, a little in
the shade, when another of the elder warriors, who spoke the French language,
addressed him--
“My Canada father does
not forget his children!” said the chief; “I thank him. An evil spirit lives in
the wife of one of my young men. Can the cunning stranger frighten him away?”
Heyward possessed some
knowledge of the mummery practised among the Indians, in the cases of such
supposed visitations. He saw, at a glance, that the circumstance might possibly
be improved to further his own ends. It would, therefore, have been difficult,
just then, to have uttered a proposal, that would have given him more
satisfaction. Aware of the necessity of preserving the dignity of his imaginary
character, however, he repressed his feelings, and answered with suitable mystery--
“Spirits differ; some
yield to the power of wisdom, while others are too strong.”
“My brother is a great
medicine!” said the cunning savage; “he will try?”
A gesture of assent was
the answer. The Huron was content with the assurance, and resuming his pipe, he
awaited the proper moment to move. The impatient Heyward, inwardly execrating
the cold customs of the savages, which required such a sacrifice to
appearances, was fain to assume an air of indifference, equal to that
maintained by the chief, who was, in truth, a near relative of the afflicted
woman. The minutes lingered, and the delay had seemed an hour to the adventurer
in empiricism, when the Huron laid aside his pipe, and drew his robe across his
breast, as if about to lead the way to the lodge of the invalid. Just then, a
warrior of powerful frame darkened the door, and stalking silently among the
attentive groupe, he seated himself on one end of that low pile of brush, which
sustained Duncan on its other. The latter cast an impatient look at his
neighbour, and felt his flesh creep with uncontrollable horror, when he found
himself in actual contact with Magua.
The sudden return of
this artful and dreaded chief, caused a delay in the intended departure of the
Huron. Several pipes, that had been extinguished, were lighted again; while the
new comer, without speaking a word, drew his tomahawk from his girdle, and
filling the bowl on its head, began to inhale the vapours of the weed through
the hollow handle, with as much indifference, as if he had not been absent two
weary days, on a long and toilsome hunt. Ten minutes, which appeared so many
ages to Duncan, might have passed in this manner; and the warriors were fairly
enveloped in a could of white smoke, before one of them uttered the significant
word--
“Welcome! Has my friend
found the moose?”
“The young men stagger
under their burthens,” returned Magua. “Let ‘Reed-that-bends’ go on the hunting
path; he will meet them.”
A deep and awful
silence succeeded the utterance of the forbidden name. Each pipe dropped from
the lips of its owner, as though all had inhaled an impurity at the same
instant. The smoke wreathed above their heads in little eddies, and curling in
a spiral form, it ascended swiftly through the opening in the roof of the
lodge, leaving the place beneath clear of its fumes, and each dark visage
distinctly visible. The eyes of most of the warriors were riveted on the earth;
though a few of the younger and less gifted of the party, suffered their wild
and glaring balls to roll in the direction of a white headed savage, who sate
between two of the most venerated chiefs of the tribe. There was nothing in the
air or attire of this Indian, that would seem to entitle him to such a
distinction. The former was rather depressed, than remarkable for the proud
bearing of the natives; and the latter was such as was commonly worn by the
ordinary men of the nation. Like most around him, for more than a minute, his
look, too, was on the ground; but trusting his eyes, at length, to steal a
glance aside, he perceived that he was becoming an object of general attention.
Then he arose, and lifted his voice amid the general silence.
“It was a lie,” he
said; “I had no son! He who was called by that name is forgotten; his blood was
pale, and came not from the veins of a Huron; the wicked Chippewas cheated my
squaw! The Great Spirit has said, that the family of Wiss-en-tush should
end--he is happy who knows that the evil of his race dies with himself! I have
done.”
The father then looked
round and about him, as if seeking commendation for his stoicism, in the eyes
of his auditors. But the stern customs of his people had made too severe an
exaction of the feeble old man. The expression of his eye contradicted his
figurative and boastful language, while every muscle in his swarthy and
wrinkled visage was working with inward anguish. Standing a single minute to
enjoy his bitter triumph, he turned away, as if sickening at the gaze of men,
and veiling his face in his blanket, he walked from the lodge, with the noiseless
step of an Indian, and sought, in the privacy of his own abode, the sympathy of
one like himself, aged, forlorn, and childless.
The Indians, who
believe in the hereditary transmission of virtues and defects in character,
suffered him to depart in silence. Then, with an elevation of breeding that
many in a more cultivated state of society might profitably emulate, one of the
chiefs drew the attention of the young men from the weakness they had just
witnessed, by saying, in a cheerful voice, addressing himself in courtesy to
Magua, as the newest comer--
“The Delawares have
been like bears after the honey-pots, prowling around my village. But who has
ever found a Huron asleep!”
The darkness of the
impending cloud which precedes a burst of thunder, was not blacker than the
brow of Magua, as he exclaimed--
“The Delawares of the
Lakes!”
“Not so. They who wear
the petticoats of squaws on their own river. One of them has been passing the
tribe.”
“Did my young men take
his scalp?”
“His legs were good,
though his arm is better for the hoe than the tomahawk,” returned the other,
pointing to the immovable form of Uncas.
Instead of manifesting
any womanish curiosity to feast his eyes with the sight of a captive from a
people he was known to have so much reason to hate, Magua continued to smoke,
with the meditative air that he usually maintained, when there was no immediate
call on his cunning or his eloquence. Although secretly amazed at the facts
betrayed in the speech of the aged father, he permitted himself to ask no
questions, reserving all his inquiries for a more suitable moment. It was only
after a sufficient interval, that he shook the ashes from his pipe, replaced
the tomahawk, tightened his girdle, and arose, casting, for the first time, a
glance in the direction of the prisoner, who stood a little behind him. The
wary, though seemingly abstracted, Uncas, caught a glimpse of the movement, and
turning suddenly to the light, their looks met. Near a minute these two bold
and untamed spirits stood regarding one another steadily in the eye, neither
quailing in the least before the fierce gaze he encountered. The form of Uncas
dilated, and his nostrils opened, like a tiger at bay; but so rigid and
unyielding was his posture, that he might easily have been converted, by the
imagination, into an exquisite and faultless representation of the warlike
deity of his tribe. The lineaments of the quivering features of Magua proved
more ductile; his countenance gradually lost its character of defiance in an
expression of ferocious oy, and heaving a breath from the very bottom of his
chest, he pronounced aloud the formidable name of--
“Le Cerf Agile!”
Each warrior sprang
upon his feet at the utterance of the well-known appellation, and there was a
short period, during which the stoical constancy of the natives was completely
conquered by surprise. The hated and yet respected name was repeated, as by one
voice, carrying the sound even beyond the limits of the lodge. The women and
children, who lingered around the entrance, took up the words in an echo, which
was succeeded by another shrill and plaintive howl. The latter was not yet
ended, when the sensation among the men had entirely abated. Each one in
presence seated himself, as though ashamed of his precipitation, but it was
many minutes before their meaning eyes ceased to roll towards their captive, in
curious examination of a warrior, who had so often proved his prowess on the
best and proudest of their nation.
Uncas enjoyed his
victory, but was content with merely exhibiting his triumph, by a quiet and
proud curl of the lip; an emblem of scorn that belongs to all time and every
nation. Magua caught the expression, and raising his arm, he shook it at the
captive--the light silver ornaments attached to his bracelet rattling with the
trembling agitation of the limb, as, in a tone of vengeance, he exclaimed, in
English--
“Mohican, you die!”
“The healing waters
will never bring the dead Hurons to life!” returned Uncas, in the music of the
Delawares; “the tumbling river washes their bones! their men are squaws; their
women owls. Go--call together the Huron dogs, that they may look upon a
warrior. My nostrils are offended; they scent the blood of a coward!”
The latter allusion
struck deep, and the injury rankled. Many of the Hurons understood the strange
tongue in which the captive spoke, among which number was Magua. This cunning
savage beheld, and instantly profited by, his advantage. Dropping the light
robe of skin from his shoulder, he stretched forth his arm, and commenced a
burst of his dangerous and artful eloquence. However much his influence among
his people had been impaired by his occasional and besetting weakness, as well
as by his desertion of the tribe, his courage, and his fame as an orator, were
undeniable. He never spoke without auditors, and rarely without making converts
to his opinions. On the present occasion, his native powers were stimulated by
the keenest thirst for revenge.
He again recounted the
events of the attack on the island at Glenn’s; the death of his associates; and
the escape of their most formidable enemies. Then he described the nature and
position of the mount whither he had led such captives as had fallen into their
hands. Of his own bloody intentions towards the maidens, and of his baffled
malice, he made no mention, but passed rapidly on to the surprise by the party
of “la Longue Carabine,” and its fatal termination. Here he paused, and looked
about him, in affected veneration for the departed--but, in truth, to note the
effect of his opening narrative. As usual, every eye was riveted on his face.
Each dusky figure seemed a breathing statue, so motionless was the posture, so
intense the attention of the individual.
Then Magua dropped his
voice, which had hitherto been clear, strong, and elevated, and touched upon
the merits of the dead. No quality that was likely to command the sympathy of
an Indian, escaped his notice. One had never been known to follow the chase in
vain; another had been indefatigable on the trail of their enemies. This was
brave; that, generous. In short, he so managed his allusions, that in a nation
which was composed of so few families, he contrived to strike every chord that
might find, in its turn, some breast in which to vibrate.
“Are the bones of my
young men,” he concluded, “in the burial place of the Hurons! You know they are
not. Their spirits are gone towards the setting sun, and are already crossing
the great waters, to the happy hunting grounds. But they departed without food,
without guns or knives, without moccasins, naked and poor, as they were born.
Shall this be? Are their souls to enter the land of the just, like hungry
Iroquois, or unmanly Delawares; or shall they meet their friends with arms in
their hands, and robes on their backs? What will our fathers think the tribes
of the Wyandots have become? They will look on their children with a dark eye,
and say, go; a Chippewa has come hither with the name of a Huron. Brothers, we
must not forget the dead; a red skin never ceases to remember. We will load the
back of this Mohican, until he staggers under our bounty, and despatch him
after my young men. They call to us for aid, though our ears are not open; they
say, forget us not. When they see the spirit of this Mohican toiling after them,
with his burthen, they will know we are of that mind. Then will they go on
happy; and our children will say, ‘so did our fathers to their friends, so must
we do to them.’ What is a Yengee! we have slain many, but the earth is still
pale. A stain on the name of a Huron can, only, be hid by blood that comes from
the veins of an Indian. Let, then, this Delaware die.”
The effect of such an
harangue, delivered in the nervous language, and with the emphatic manner of a
Huron orator, could scarcely be mistaken. Magua had so artfully blended the
natural sympathies with the religious superstition of his auditors, that their
minds, already prepared by custom to sacrifice a victim to the manes of their
countrymen, lost every vestige of humanity in a wish for instant revenge. One
warrior in particular, a man of wild and ferocious mien, had been conspicuous
for the attention he had given to the words of the speaker. His countenance had
changed with each passing emotion, until it settled into a continued and deadly
look of malice. As Magua ended, he arose, and uttering the yell of a demon, his
polished little axe was seen glancing in the torch light, as he whirled it
above his head. The motion and the cry were too sudden for words to interrupt
his bloody intention. It appeared as if a bright gleam shot from his hand,
which was crossed at the same moment by a dark and powerful line. The former
was the tomahawk in its passage; the latter the arm that Magua darted forward
to divert its aim. The quick and ready motion of the chief was not entirely too
late. The keen weapon cut the short war-plume from the scalping tuft of Uncas,
and passed through the frail wall of the lodge, as though it were hurled from
some formidable engine.
Duncan had seen the
threatening action, and sprang upon his feet, with a heart which, while it
leaped into his throat, swelled with the most generous resolution in behalf of
his friend. A glance told him that the blow had failed, and terror changed to
admiration. Uncas stood, still looking his enemy in the eye, with features that
seemed superior to every emotion. Marble could not be colder, calmer, or
steadier, than the countenance he put upon this sudden and vindictive attack.
Then, as if pitying a want of skill, which had proved so fortunate to himself,
he smiled, and muttered a few words of contempt, in his own soft and musical
tongue.
“No!” said Magua, after
satisfying himself of the safety of the captive; “the sun must shine upon his
shame; the squaws must see his flesh tremble, or our revenge will be like the
play of boys. Go--take him where there is silence; let us see if a Delaware can
sleep at night, and, in the morning, die!”
The young men whose
duty it was to guard the prisoner, instantly passed their ligaments of bark
across his arms, and led him from the lodge, amid a gloomy, profound, and
ominous silence. It was only as the figure of Uncas stood in the opening of the
door, that his firm step hesitated. There he turned, and in the sweeping and
haughty glance that he threw around the circle of his enemies, Duncan caught a
look, which he was glad to construe into an expression that he was not entirely
deserted by hope.
Magua was content with
his success, or too much occupied with his secret purposes, to push his
inquiries any further. Shaking his mantle, and folding it on his bosom, he also
quitted the place, without pursuing a subject that might have proved so fatal
to the individual at his elbow. Notwithstanding his rising resentment, his
natural firmness, and his anxiety in behalf of Uncas, Heyward felt sensibly
relieved by the absence of so dangerous and so subtle a foe. The excitement
produced by the speech gradually subsided. The warriors resumed their seats,
and clouds of smoke once more filled the lodge. For near half an hour, not a syllable
was uttered, or scarcely a look cast aside--a grave and meditative silence
being in the ordinary succession to every scene of violence and commotion,
amongst those beings, who were alike so impetuous, and yet so selfrestrained.
When the chief who had
solicited the aid of Duncan had finished his pipe, he made a final and
successful movement towards departing. A motion of a finger was the intimation
he gave the supposed physician to follow; and passing through the clouds of
smoke, Duncan was glad, on more accounts than one, to be able, at last, to
breathe the pure air of a cool and refreshing summer evening.
Instead of pursuing his
way among those lodges, where Heyward had already made his unsuccessful search,
his companion turned aside, and proceeded directly toward the base of an
adjacent mountain, which overhung the temporary village. A thicket of brush
skirted its foot, and it became necessary to proceed through a crooked and
narrow path. The boys had resumed their sports in the clearing, and were
enacting a mimic chase to the post, among themselves. In order to render their
games as like the reality as possible, one of the boldest of their number had
conveyed a few brands into some piles of tree-tops, that had hitherto escaped
the burning. The blaze of one of these fires lighted the way of the chief and
Duncan, and gave a character of additional wildness to the rude scenery. At a
little distance from a bald rock, and directly in its front, they entered a
grassy opening, which they prepared to cross. Just then, fresh fuel was added
to the fire, and a powerful light penetrated even to that distant spot. It fell
upon the white surface of the mountain, and was reflected downward upon a dark
and mysterious looking being, that arose, unexpectedly, in their path.
The Indian paused, as
if doubtful whether to proceed, and permitted his companion to approach his
side. A large black ball, which at first seemed stationary, now began to move
in a manner, that to the latter was inexplicable. Again the fire brightened,
and its glare fell more distinctly on the object. Then even Duncan knew it, by
its restless and sideling attitudes, which kept the upper part of its form in
constant motion, while the animal itself appeared seated, to be a bear. Though
it growled loudly and fiercely, and there were instants when its glistening
eye-balls might be seen, it gave no other indication of hostility. The Huron,
at least, seemed assured that the intentions of this singular intruder were
peaceable, for after giving it an attentive examination, he quietly pursued his
course.
Duncan, who knew that
the animal was often found domesticated among the Indians, followed the example
of his companion, believing that some favourite of the tribe had found its way
into the thicket, in search of food. They passed it unmolested. Though obliged
to come nearly in contact with the monster, the Huron, who had at first so
warily determined the character of his strange visiter, was now content with
proceeding without wasting a moment in further examination; but Heyward was
unable to prevent his eyes from looking backward, in a sort of salutary
watchfulness against attacks in the rear. His uneasiness was in no degree
diminished, when he perceived the beast rolling along their path, and following
their footsteps. He would have spoken, but the Indian at that moment shoved
aside a door of bark, and entered a cavern in the bosom of the mountain.
Profiting by so easy a
method of retreat, Duncan stepped after him, and was gladly closing the slight
cover to the opening, when he felt it drawn from his hand by the beast, whose
shaggy form immediately darkened the passage. They were now in a straight and
long gallery, in a chasm of the rocks, where retreat, without encountering the
animal, was impossible. Making the best of the circumstances, the young man
pressed forward, keeping as close as possible to his conductor. The bear
growled frequently at his heels, and once or twice its enormous paws were laid
on his person, as though disposed to prevent his further passage into the den.
How long the nerves of
Heyward would have sustained him in this extraordinary situation, it might be
difficult to decide, for, happily, he soon found relief. A glimmer of light had
constantly been in their front, and they now arrived at the place whence it
proceeded.
A large cavity in the
rock had been rudely fitted to answer the purposes of many apartments. The
subdivisions were simple, but ingenious; being composed of stone, sticks, and
bark, intermingled. Openings above admitted the light by day, and at night
fires and torches supplied the place of the sun. Hither the Hurons had brought
most of their valuables, especially those which more particularly pertained to
the nation; and hither, as it now appeared, the sick woman, who was believed to
be the victim of supernatural power, had been transported also, under an
impression, that her tormentor would find more difficulty in making his
assaults through walls of stone, than through the leafy coverings of the
lodges. The apartment into which Duncan and his guide first entered, had been
exclusively devoted to her accommodation. The latter approached her bed-side,
which was surrounded by females, in the centre of whom, Heyward was surprised
to find his missing friend David.
A single look was
sufficient to apprise the pretended leech, that the invalid was far beyond his
powers of healing. She lay in a sort of paralysis, indifferent to the objects
which crowded before her sight, and happily unconscious of suffering. Heyward
was far from regretting that his mummeries were to be performed on one who was
much too ill to take an interest in their failure or success. The slight qualm
of conscience which had been excited by the intended deception, was instantly
appeased at the sight, and he began, busily, to collect his thoughts, in order
to enact his part with suitable spirit, when he found he was about to be
anticipated in his skill, by an attempt to prove the power of music.
Gamut, who had stood
prepared to pour forth his spirit in song when the visiters entered, after
delaying a moment, drew a strain from his pipe, and commenced a hymn, that
might have worked a miracle, had faith in its efficacy been of much avail. He
was allowed to proceed to the close, the Indians respecting his imaginary infirmity,
and Duncan too glad of the delay to hazard the slightest interruption. As the
dying cadence of his strains was falling on the ears of the latter, he started
aside at hearing them repeated behind him, in a voice half human and half
sepulchral. Looking around, he beheld the shaggy monster seated on end, in a
shadow of the cavern, where, while his restless body swung in the uneasy manner
of the animal, it repeated, in a sort of low growl, sounds, if not words, which
bore some slight resemblance to the melody of the singer.
The effect of so
strange an echo, on David, may better be imagined than described. His eyes
opened, as if he doubted their truth; and his voice became instantly mute, in
excess of wonder. A deep laid scheme of communicating some important
intelligence to Heyward, was driven from his recollection by an emotion which
very nearly resembled fear, but which he was fain to believe was admiration.
Under its influence, he exclaimed aloud--“She expects you, and is at hand”--and
precipitately left the cavern.
Snug. “Have you the lion’s part
written? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study.
Quince. You may do it
extempore, for it is nothing but roaring.”
Midsummer’s Night Dream
There was a strange
blending of the ridiculous, with that which was solemn, in this scene. The
beast still continued its rolling, and apparently untiring, movements, though
its ludicrous attempt to imitate the melody of David ceased the instant the
latter abandoned the field. The words of Gamut were, as has been seen, in his
native tongue; and to Duncan they seemed pregnant with some hidden meaning,
though nothing present assisted him in discovering the object of their
allusion. A speedy end was, however, put to every conjecture on the subject, by
the manner of the chief, who advanced to the bedside of the invalid, and
beckoned away the whole groupe of female attendants, that had clustered there,
in lively curiosity, to witness the skill of the stranger. He was implicitly,
though reluctantly, obeyed; and when the low echo which rang along the hollow,
natural gallery, from the distant closing door, had ceased, pointing towards
his insensible daughter, he said--
“Now let my brother
show his power.”
Thus unequivocally
called on to exercise the functions of his assumed character, Heyward was
apprehensive that the smallest delay might prove dangerous. Endeavouring then
to collect his ideas, he prepared to commence that species of incantation, and
those uncouth rites, under which the Indian conjurers are accustomed to conceal
their actual ignorance and impotency. It is more than probable, that in the
disordered state of his thoughts, he would soon have fallen into some
suspicious, if not fatal error, had not his incipient attempts been interrupted
by a fierce growl from the quadruped. Three several times did he renew his
efforts to proceed, and as often was he met by the same unaccountable
opposition, each interruption seeming more savage and threatening than the preceding.
“The cunning ones are
jealous,” said the Huron; “I go. Brother, the woman is the wife of one of my
bravest young men; deal justly by her. Peace,” he added, beckoning to the
discontented beast to be quiet; “I go.”
The chief was instantly
as good as his word, and Duncan now found himself alone in that wild and
desolate abode, with the helpless invalid, and the fierce and dangerous brute.
The latter listened to the movements of the Indian, with that air of sagacity
that a bear is known to possess, until another echo announced that he had also
left the cavern, when it turned and came waddling up to Duncan, before whom it
seated itself, in its natural attitude, erect like a man. The youth looked
anxiously about him for some weapon, with which he might make a resistance,
worthy of his reputation, against the attack he now seriously expected.
It seemed, however, as
if the humour of the animal had suddenly changed. Instead of continuing its
discontented growls, or manifesting any further signs of anger, the whole of
its shaggy body shook violently, as though it were agitated by some strange,
internal, convulsion. The huge and unwieldy talons pawed stupidly about the
grinning muzzle, and while Heyward kept his eyes riveted on its movements, with
jealous watchfulness, the grim head fell on one side, and in its place appeared
the honest, sturdy countenance of the scout, who was indulging, from the bottom
of his soul, in his own peculiar expression of merriment.
“Hist!” said the wary
woodsman, interrupting Heyward’s exclamation of surprise; “the varlets are
about the place, and any sounds that are not natural to witchcraft, would bring
them back upon us in a body!”
“Tell me the meaning of
this masquerade; and why you have attempted so desperate an adventure!”
“Ah! reason and
calculation are often outdone by accident,” returned the scout. “But as a story
should always commence at the beginning, I will tell you the whole in order.
After we parted, I placed the Commandant and the Sagamore in an old beaver
lodge, where they are safer from the Hurons, than they would be in the garrison
of Edward; for your high nor-west Indians, not having as yet got the traders
much among them, continue to venerate the beaver. After which, Uncas and I
pushed for the other encampment, as was agreed; have you seen the lad?”
“To my great grief!--he
is captive, and condemned to die at the rising of the sun.”
“I had misgivings that
such would be his fate,” resumed the scout, in a less confident and joyous
tone. But soon regaining his naturally firm voice, he continued--“His bad
fortune is the true reason of my being here, for it would never do to abandon
such a boy to the Hurons! A rare time the knaves would have of it, could they
tie the ‘bounding elk’ and the ‘longue carabine,’ as they call me, to the same
stake! Though why they have given me such a name, I never knew, there being as
little likeness between the gifts of ‘kill-deer’ and the performance of one of
your real Canada carabynes, as there is between the natur of a pipe-stone and a
flint!”
“Keep to your tale,”
said the impatient Heyward; “we know not at what moment the Hurons may return.”
“No fear of them. A
conjuror must have his time, like a straggling priest in the settlements. We
are as safe from interruption, as a missionary would be at the beginning of a
two hours discourse. Well, Uncas and I fell in with a return party of the
varlets; the lad was much too forward for a scout; nay, for that matter, being
of hot blood, he was not so much to blame; and, after all, one of the Hurons
proved a coward, and in fleeing, led him into an ambushment!”
“And dearly has he paid
for the weakness!” exclaimed Duncan.
The scout significantly
passed his hand across his own throat, and nodded, as if he said, “I comprehend
your meaning.” After which, he continued, in a more audible, though scarcely
more intelligible language--
“After the loss of the
boy, I turned upon the Hurons, as you may judge. There have been skrimmages
atween one or two of their outlyers and myself; but that is neither here nor
there. So, after I had shot the imps, I got in pretty nigh to the lodges,
without further commotion. Then, what should luck do in my favour, but lead me
to the very spot where one of the most famous conjurors of the tribe was
dressing himself, as I well knew, for some great battle with Satan--though why
should I call that luck, which it now seems was an especial ordering of
Providence! So, a judgematical rap, over the head, stiffened the lying impostor
for a time, and leaving him a bit of walnut for his supper, to prevent any
uproar, and stringing him up atween two saplings, I made free with his finery,
and took the part of a bear on myself, in order that the operations might
proceed.”
“And admirably did you
enact the character! the animal itself might have been shamed by the
representation.”
“Lord, major,” returned
the flattered woodsman, “I should be but a poor scholar, for one who has
studied so long in the wilderness, did I not know how to set forth the
movements and natur of such a beast! Had it been now a catamount, or even a
full sized painter, I would have embellished a performance, for you, worth
regarding! But it is no such marvellous feat to exhibit the feats of so dull a
beast; though, for that matter too, a bear may be over acted! Yes, yes; it is
not every imitator that knows natur may be outdone easier than she is equalled.
But all our work is yet before us! where is the gentle one?”
“Heaven knows; I have
examined every lodge in the village, without discovering the slightest trace of
her presence in the tribe.”
“You heard what the
singer said, as he left us-- ‘she is at hand, and expects you.’ ”
“I have been compelled
to believe he alluded to this unhappy woman.”
“The simpleton was
frightened, and blundered through his message, but he had a deeper meaning.
Here are walls enough to divide whole settlements. A bear ought to climb;
therefore will I take a look above them. There may be honey-pots hid in these
rocks, and I am a beast, you know, that has a hankering for the sweets.”
The scout looked behind
him, laughing at his own conceit, while he clambered up the partition,
imitating, as he went, the clumsy motions of the beast he represented; but the
instant the summit was gained, he made a gesture for silence, and slid down
with the utmost precipitation.
“She is here,” he
whispered, “and by that door you will find her. I would have spoken a word of
comfort to the afflicted soul, but the sight of such a monster might well upset
her reason. Though, for that matter, major, you are none of the most inviting
yourself, in your paint.”
Duncan, who had already
sprung eagerly forward, drew instantly back, on hearing these discouraging
words.
“Am I then so very
revolting?” he demanded, with an air of manifest chagrin.
“You might not startle
a wolf, or turn the Royal Americans from a charge; but I have seen the time
when you had a better favoured look, major,” returned the scout, dryly; “your
streaked countenances are not ill judged of by the squaws, but young women of
white blood give the preference to their own colour. See,” he added, pointing
to a place where the water trickled from a rock, forming a little crystal
spring, before it found an issue through the adjacent crevices; “you may easily
get rid of the Sagamore’s daub, and when you come back, I will try my hand at a
new embellishment. It’s as common for a conjuror to alter his paint, as for a
buck in the settlements to change his finery.”
The deliberate woodsman
had little occasion to hunt for arguments to enforce his advice. He was yet
speaking, when Duncan availed himself of the water. In a moment, every
frightful or offensive mark was obliterated, and the youth appeared again in
the fine and polished lineaments with which he had been gifted by nature. Thus
prepared for an interview with his mistress, he took a hasty leave of his companion,
and disappeared through the indicated passage. The scout witnessed his
departure with complacency, nodding his head after him, and muttering his good
wishes; after which, he very coolly set about an examination of the state of
the larder among the Hurons--the cavern, among other purposes, being used as a
receptacle for the fruits of their hunts.
Duncan had no other
guide than a distant glimmering light, which served, however, the office of a
polar star to the lover. By its aid, he was enabled to enter the haven of his
hopes, which was merely another apartment of the cavern, that had been solely
appropriated to the safe keeping of so important a prisoner, as a daughter of
the commandant of William Henry. It was profusely strewed with the plunder of
that unlucky fortress. In the midst of this confusion he found the maiden,
pale, anxious, and terrified, but still lovely. David had prepared her for such
a visit.
“Duncan!” she
exclaimed, in a voice that seemed to tremble at the sounds created by itself.
“Alice!” he answered,
leaping carelessly among trunks, boxes, arms, and furniture, until he stood at
her side.
“I knew, Duncan, that
you would never desert me,” she said, looking up with a momentary glow of
pleasure beaming on her otherwise dejected countenance. “But you are alone!
grateful as it is to be thus remembered, I could wish to think you are not
entirely alone!”
Duncan, observing that
she trembled in a manner which betrayed an inability to continue standing,
gently induced her to be seated, while he recounted those leading incidents
which it has been our task to record. Alice listened with breathless interest;
and though the young man touched lightly on the sorrows of the stricken father,
taking care, however, not to wound the self-love of his auditor, the tears ran
as freely down the cheeks of the daughter, as though she had never wept before.
The soothing tenderness of Duncan, however, soon quieted the first burst of her
emotions, and she then heard him to the close with undivided attention, if not
with composure.
“And now, Alice,” he
added, “you will see how much is still expected of you. By the assistance of
our experienced and invaluable friend, the scout, we may find our way from this
savage people, but you will have to exert your utmost fortitude. Remember, that
you fly to the arms of your venerable parent, and how much his happiness, as
well as your own, depends on those exertions.”
“Can I do otherwise for
a father who has done so much for me!”
“And for me too!”
continued the youth, gently pressing the hand he held in both his own.
The look of innocence
and surprise which he received, in return, convinced Duncan of the necessity of
being more explicit.
“This is neither the
place nor the occasion to detain you with selfish wishes, sweet Alice,” he
added; “but what heart loaded like mine would not wish to cast its burthen!
They say misery is the closest of all ties; our common suffering in your
behalf, left but little to be explained between your father and myself.”
“And dearest Cora,
Duncan; surely Cora was not forgotten!”
“Not forgotten! no;
regretted as woman was seldom mourned, before. Your venerable father knew no
difference between his children; but I-- Alice, you will not be offended, when
I say, that to me her worth was in a degree obscured--”
“Then you knew not the
merit of my sister,” said Alice, withdrawing her hand; “of you she ever speaks,
as of one who is her dearest friend!”
“I would gladly believe
her such,” returned Duncan, hastily; “I could wish her to be even more; but with
you, Alice, I have the permission of your father to aspire to a still nearer
and dearer tie.”
The maiden trembled
violently, and there was an instant, during which she bent her face aside,
yielding to the emotions common to her sensitive sex; but they quickly passed
away, leaving her completely mistress of her deportment, if not of her
affections.
“Heyward,” she said,
looking him full in the eye, with a touching expression of innocence and
dependency, “give me the sacred presence and the holy sanction of that parent,
before you urge me farther.”
“Though more I should
not, less I could not say,” the youth was about to answer, when he was
interrupted by a light tap on his shoulder. Starting to his feet, he turned,
and confronting the intruder, his looks fell on the dark form and malignant
visage of Magua. The deep, guttural laugh of the savage, sounded, at such a
moment, to Duncan, like the hellish taunt of a demon. Had he pursued the sudden
and fierce impulse of the instant, he would have cast himself on the Huron, and
committed their fortunes to the issue of a deadly struggle. But, without arms
of any description, ignorant of what succours his subtle enemy could command,
and charged with the safety of one who was just then dearer than ever to his
heart, he no sooner entertained, than he abandoned the desperate intention.
“What is your purpose?”
said Alice, meekly folding her arms on her bosom, and struggling to conceal an
agony of apprehension in behalf of Heyward, in the usual cold and distant
manner with which she received the visits of her captor.
The exulting Indian had
resumed his austere countenance, though he drew warily back before the menacing
glance of the young man’s fiery eye. He regarded both his captives for a moment
with a steady look, and then stepping aside, he dropped a log of wood across a
door different from that by which Duncan had entered. The latter now
comprehended the manner of his surprise, and believing himself irretrivably
lost, he drew Alice to his bosom, and stood prepared to meet a fate which he
hardly regretted, since it was to be suffered in such company. But Magua
meditated no immediate violence. His first measures were very evidently taken
to secure his new captive; nor did he even bestow a second glance at the motionless
forms in the centre of the cavern, until he had completely cut off every hope
of retreat through the private outlet he had himself used. He was watched in
all his movements by Heyward, who however remained firm, still folding the
fragile form of Alice to his heart, at once too proud and too hopeless to ask
favour of an enemy so often foiled. When Magua had effected his object, he
approached his prisoners, and said, in English--
“The pale-faces trap
the cunning beavers; but the red-skins know how to take the Yengeese!”
“Huron, do your worst!”
exclaimed the excited Heyward, forgetful that a double stake was involved in
his life; “you and your vengeance are alike despised.”
“Will the white man
speak these words at the stake?” asked Magua; manifesting, at the same time,
how little faith he had in the other’s resolution, by the sneer that
accompanied his words.
“Here; singly to your
face,” continued the undaunted Heyward, “or in the presence of your assembled
nation!”
“Le Renard Subtil is a
great chief!” returned the Indian; “he will go and bring his young men, to see
how bravely a pale-face can laugh at the tortures.”
He turned away while
speaking, and was about to leave the place through the avenue by which Duncan
had approached, when a low, menacing growl, caught his ear, and caused him to
hesitate. The figure of the bear appeared in the door, where it sate rolling
from side to side, in its customary restlessness. Magua, like the father of the
sick woman, eyed it keenly for a moment, as if to ascertain its character. He
was far above the more vulgar superstitions of his tribe, and so soon as he
recognised the well known attire of the conjuror, he prepared to pass it in
cool contempt. But a louder and more threatening growl caused him again to
pause. Then he seemed as if suddenly resolved to trifle no longer, and moved
resolutely forward. The mimic animal, which had advanced a little, retired
slowly in his front, until it arrived again at the pass, when rearing on its
hinder legs, it beat the air with its paws, in the manner practised by its more
brutal prototype.
“Fool!” exclaimed the
chief, in Huron, “go play with the children and squaws; leave men to their
wisdom.”
He once more
endeavoured to pass the supposed empyric, scorning even the parade of threatening
to use the keen knife, or glittering tomahawk, that was pendant from his belt.
Suddenly, the beast extended its arms, or rather legs, and enclosed him in a
grasp, that might have vied with the far-famed power of the “bear’s hug”
itself. Heyward had watched the whole procedure, on the part of Hawk-eye, with
breathless interest. At first he relinquished his hold of Alice; then he caught
up a thong of buckskin, which had been used around some bundle, and when he
beheld his enemy with his two arms pinned to his side, by the iron muscles of
the scout, he rushed upon him, and effectually secured them there. Arms, legs,
and feet, were encirled in twenty folds of the thong, in less time than we have
taken to record the circumstance. When the formidable Huron was completely
pinioned, the scout released his hold, and Duncan laid his enemy on his back,
utterly helpless.
Throughout the whole of
this sudden and extraordinary operation, Magua, though he had struggled
violently, until assured he was in the hands of one whose nerves were far
better strung than his own, had not uttered the slightest exclamation. But when
Hawk-eye, by way of making a summary explanation of his conduct, removed the
shaggy jaws of the beast, and exposed his own rugged and earnest countenance to
the gaze of the Huron, the philosophy of the latter was so far mastered, as to
permit him to utter the never-failing--
“Hugh!”
“Ay! you’ve found your
tongue!” said his undisturbed conqueror; “now, in order that you shall not use
it to our ruin, I must make free to stop your mouth.”
As there was no time to
be lost, the scout immediately set about effecting so necessary a precaution;
and when he had gagged the Indian, his enemy might safely have been considered
as “hors de combat.”
“By what place did the
imp enter?” asked the industrious scout, when his work was ended. “Not a soul
has passed my way since you left me.”
Duncan pointed out the
door by which Magua had come, and which now presented too many obstacles to a
quick retreat.
“Bring on the gentle
one then,” continued his friend; “we must make a push for the woods by the
other outlet.”
“ ’Tis impossible!”
said Duncan; “fear has overcome her, and she is helpless. Alice! my sweet, my
own Alice, arouse yourself; now is the moment to fly. ’Tis in vain! she hears,
but is unable to follow. Go, noble and worthy friend; save yourself, and leave
me to my fate!”
“Every trail has its
end, and every calamity brings its lesson!” returned the scout. “There, wrap
her in them Indian cloths. Conceal all of her little form. Nay, that foot has
no fellow in the wilderness; it will betray her. All, every part. Now take her
in your arms, and follow. Leave the rest to me.”
Duncan, as may be
gathered from the words of his companion, was eagerly obeying; and as the other
finished speaking, he took the light person of Alice in his arms, and followed
on the footsteps of the scout. They found the sick woman as they had left her,
still alone, and passed swiftly on, by the natural gallery, to the place of
entrance. As they approached the little door of bark, a murmur of voices
without announced that the friends and relatives of the invalid were gathered
about the place, patiently awaiting a summons to re-enter.
“If I open my lips to
speak,” Hawk-eye whispered, “my English, which is the genuine tongue of a
white-skin, will tell the varlets that an enemy is among them. You must give ’em
your jargon, major; and say, that we have shut the evil spirit in the cave, and
are taking the woman to the woods, in order to find strengthening roots.
Practyse all your cunning, for it is a lawful undertaking.”
The door opened a
little, as if one without was listening to the proceedings within, and
compelled the scout to cease his directions. A fierce growl instantly repelled
the eves-dropper, and then the scout boldly, threw open the covering of bark,
and left the place, enacting the character of the bear as he proceeded. Duncan
kept close at his heels, and soon found himself in the centre of a cluster of
twenty anxious relatives and friends.
The crowd fell back a
little, and permitted the father, and one who appeared to be the husband of the
woman, to approach.
“Has my brother driven
away the evil spirit?” demanded the former. “What has he in his arms?”
“Thy child,” returned
Duncan, gravely; “the disease has gone out of her; it is shut up in the rocks.
I take the woman to a distance, where I will strengthen her against any further
attacks. She shall be in the wigwam of the young man when the sun comes again.”
When the father had
translated the meaning of the stranger’s words into the Huron language, a
suppressed murmur announced the satisfaction with which this intelligence was
received. The chief himself waved his hand for Duncan to proceed, saying aloud,
in a firm voice, and with a lofty manner--
“Go--I am a man, and I
will enter the rock and fight the wicked one!”
Heyward had gladly
obeyed, and was already past the little groupe, when these startling words
arrested him.
“Is my brother mad!” he
exclaimed; “is he cruel! He will meet the disease, and it will enter him; or he
will drive out the disease, and it will chase his daughter into the woods.
No--let my children wait without, and if the spirit appears, beat him down with
clubs. He is cunning, and will bury himself in the mountain, therefore, when he
sees how many are prepared to fight him.”
This singular warning
had the desired effect. Instead of entering the cavern, the father and husband
drew their tomahawks, and posted themselves in readiness to deal their
vengeance on the imaginary tormentor of their sick relative, while the women
and children broke branches from the bushes, or seized fragments of the rock,
with a similar intention. At this favourable moment the counterfeit conjurors
disappeared.
Hawk-eye, at the same
time that he had presumed so far on the nature of the Indian superstitions, was
not ignorant that they were rather tolerated than relied on by the wisest of
the chiefs. He well knew the value of time in the present emergency. Whatever
might be the extent of the self-delusion of his enemies, and however it had
tended to assist his schemes, the slightest cause of suspicion, acting on the
subtle nature of an Indian, would be likely to prove fatal. Taking the path,
therefore, that was most likely to avoid observation, he rather skirted than
entered the village. The warriors were still to be seen in the distance, by the
fading light of the fires, stalking from lodge to lodge. But the children had
abandoned their sports for their beds of skins, and the quiet of night was already
beginning to prevail over the turbulence and excitement of so busy and
important an evening.
Alice revived under the
renovating influence of the open air, and as her physical rather than her
mental powers had been the subject of her weakness, she stood in no need of any
explanation of that which had occurred.
“Now let me make an
effort to walk,” she said, when they had entered the forest, blushing, though
unseen, that she had not been sooner able to quit the arms of Duncan; “I am,
indeed, restored.”
“Nay, Alice, you are
yet too weak.”
The maiden struggled
gently to release herself, and the reluctant Heyward was compelled to part with
his precious burthen. The representative of the bear had certainly been an
entire stranger to the delicious emotions of the lover, while his arms
encircled his mistress, and he was, perhaps, a stranger also to the nature of
that feeling of ingenuous shame, that oppressed the trembling Alice, as they
had made such diligent progress in their flight. But when he found himself at a
suitable distance from the lodges, he made a halt, and spoke on a subject of
which he was throughly the master.
“This path will lead
you to the brook,” he said; “follow its northern bank until you come to a fall;
mount the hill on your right, and you will see the fires of the other people.
There you must go, and demand protection; if they are true Delawares, you will
be safe. A distant flight with that gentle one, just now, is impossible. The
Hurons would follow up our trail, and master our scalps, before we had got a
dozen miles. Go, and Providence be with you.”
“And you!” demanded
Heyward, in surprise; “surely we part not here!”
“The Hurons hold the
pride of the Delawares; the last of the high blood of the Mohicans, is in their
power!” returned the scout; “I go to see what can be done in his favour. Had
they mastered your scalp, major, a knave should have fallen for every hair it
held, as I promised; but if the young Sagamore is to be led to the stake, the
Indians shall see also how a man without a cross can die!”
Not in the least
offended with the decided preference that the sturdy woodsman gave to one who
might, in some degree, be called the child of his adoption, Duncan still
continued to urge such reasons against so desperate an effort, as presented
themselves. He was aided by Alice, who mingled her entreaties with those of
Heyward, that he would abandon a resolution that promised so much danger, with
such little hopes of success. Their eloquence and ingenuity were expended in
vain. The scout heard them attentively, but impatiently, and finally closed the
discussion, by answering, in a tone that instantly silenced Alice, while it
told Heyward how fruitless any further remonstrances would be.
“I have heard,” he
said, “that there is a feeling in youth, which binds man to woman, closer than
the father is tied to the son. It may be so. I have seldom been where women of
my colour dwell; but such may be the gifts of natur in the settlements! You
have risked life, and all that is dear to you, to bring off this gentle one,
and I suppose that some such disposition is at the bottom of it all. As for me,
I taught the lad the real character of a rifle; and well has he paid me for it!
I have fou’t at his side in many a bloody skrimmage; and so long as I could
hear the crack of his piece in one ear, and that of the Sagamore in the other,
I knew no enemy was on my back. Winters and summers, nights and days, have we
roved the wilderness in company, eating of the same dish, one sleeping while
the other watched; and afore it shall be said that Uncas was taken to the
torment, and I at hand--There is but a single Ruler of us all, whatever may be
the colour of the skin; and him I call to witness--that before the Mohican boy
shall perish for the want of a friend, good faith shall depart the ’arth, and ‘kill-deer’
become as harmless as the tooting we’pon of the singer!”
Duncan released his
hold on the arm of the scout, who turned, and steadily retraced his steps
towards the lodges. After pausing a moment to gaze at his retiring form, the
successful and yet sorrowful Heyward, and his mistress, took their way together
towards the distant village of the Delawares.
Bot. “Let me play the lion too.”
--
Notwithstanding the
high resolution of Hawk-eye, he fully comprehended all the difficulties and
dangers he was about to incur. In his return to the camp, his acute and
practised intellects were intently engaged in devising means to counteract a
watchfulness and suspicion on the part of his enemies, that he knew were, in no
degree, inferior to his own. Nothing but the colour of his skin saved the lives
of Magua and the conjuror, who would have been the first victims to his
security, had not the scout believed such an act, however congenial it might be
to the nature of an Indian, utterly unworthy of one who boasted a descent from
men that knew no cross of blood. Accordingly, he trusted to the withes and
ligaments with which he had bound his captives, and pursued his way directly
towards the centre of the lodges.
As he approached the
buildings, his steps became more deliberate, and his vigilant eye suffered no
sign, whether friendly or hostile, to escape him. A neglected hut was a little
in advance of the others, and appeared as though it had been deserted when half
completed--most probably on account of failing in some of the more important
requisites; such as of wood or water. A faint light glimmered through its
cracks, however, and announced, that notwithstanding its imperfect structure,
it was not now without a tenant. Thither, then, the scout proceeded, like a
prudent general, who was about to feel the advanced positions of his enemy,
before he hazarded his main attack.
Throwing himself into a
suitable posture for the beast he represented, Hawk-eye crawled to a little
opening, where he might command a view of the interior. It proved to be the
abiding-place of David Gamut. Hither the faithful singing-master had now
brought himself, together with all his sorrows, his apprehensions, and his meek
dependence on the protection of Providence. At the precise moment when his
ungainly person came under the observation of the scout, in the manner just
mentioned, the woodsman himself, though in his assumed character, was the
subject of the solitary being’s profoundest reflections.
However implicit the
faith of David was in the performance of ancient miracles, he eschewed the
belief of any direct supernatural agency in the management of modern morality.
In other words, while he had implicit faith in the ability of Balaam’s ass to
speak, he was somewhat sceptical on the subject of a bear’s singing; and yet he
had been assured of the latter, on the testimony of his own exquisite organs!
There was something in his air and manner, that betrayed to the scout the utter
confusion of the state of his mind. He was seated on a pile of brush, a few
twigs from which occasionally fed his low fire, with his head leaning on his
arm, in a posture of melancholy musing. The costume of the votary of music had
undergone no other alteration from that so lately described, except that he had
covered his bald head with the triangular beaver, which had not proved
sufficiently alluring to excite the cupidity of any of his captors.
The ingenious Hawk-eye,
who recalled the hasty manner in which the other had abandoned his post at the
bed-side of the sick woman, was not without his suspicions concerning the
subject of so much solemn deliberation. First making the circuit of the hut,
and ascertaining that it stood quite alone, and that the character of its
inmate was likely to protect it from visiters, he ventured through its low
door, into the very presence of Gamut. The position of the latter brought the
fire between them; and when Hawk-eye had seated himself on end, near a minute
elapsed, during which the two remained regarding each other without speaking.
The suddenness and the nature of the surprise, had nearly proved too much
for--we will not say the philosophy--but for the faith and resolution of David.
He fumbled for his pitch-pipe, and arose with a confused intention of
attempting a musical exorcism.
“Dark and mysterious
monster!” he exclaimed, while with trembling hands he disposed of his auxiliary
eyes, and sought his never-failing resource in trouble, the gifted version of
the Psalms; “I know not your nature nor intents; but if aught you meditate
against the person and rights of one of the humblest servants of the temple,
listen to the inspired language of the youth of Israel, and repent.”
The bear shook his
shaggy sides in an inexplicable emotion, and then a well-known voice replied--
“Put up your tooting we’pon,
and teach your throat modesty. Five words of plain and comprehendible English,
are worth, just now, an hour of squalling.”
“What art thou?”
demanded David, utterly disqualified to pursue his original intention, and
nearly gasping for breath.
“A man like yourself;
and one whose blood is as little tainted by the cross of a bear as your own.
Have you so soon forgotten from whom you received the foolish instrument you
hold in your hand?”
“Can these things be?”
returned David, breathing more freely, as the truth began to dawn upon him. “I
have found many marvels during my sojourn with the heathen, but, surely, nothing
to excel this!”
“Come, come,” returned
Hawk-eye, uncasing his honest countenance, the better to assure the wavering
confidence of his companion; “you may see a skin, which, if it be not as white
as one of the gentle ones, has no tinge of red to it, that the winds of the
heaven and the sun has not bestowed. Now let us to business.”
“First tell me of the
maiden, and of the youth who so bravely sought her,” interrupted David.
“Ay, they are happily
freed from the tomahawks of these varlets! But can you put me on the scent of
Uncas?”
“The young man is in
bondage, and much I fear is his death decreed. I greatly mourn, that one so
well disposed should die in his ignorance, and I have sought a goodly hymn--”
“Can you lead me to
him?”
“The task will not be
difficult,” returned David, hesitating; “though I greatly fear your presence
would rather increase than mitigate his unhappy fortunes.”
“No more words, but
lead on,” returned Hawk-eye, concealing his face again, and setting the example
in his own person, by instantly quitting the lodge.
As they proceeded, the
scout ascertained that his companion found access to Uncas, under privilege of
his imaginary infirmity, aided by the favour he had acquired with one of the
guards, who, in consequence of speaking a little English, had been selected by
David as the subject of a religious conversion. How far the Huron comprehended
the intentions of his new friend, may well be doubted; but as exclusive
attention is as flattering to a savage as to a more civilized individual, it
had, assuredly, produced the effect we have mentioned. It is unnecessary to
repeat the shrewd manner with which the scout extracted these particulars from
the simple David; neither shall we dwell, in this place, on the nature of the
instructions he delivered, when completely master of all the necessary facts,
as the whole will be sufficiently explained to the reader in the due course of
the narrative.
The lodge in which
Uncas was confined, was in the very centre of the village, and in a situation,
perhaps, more difficult than any other to approach or leave without
observation. But it was not the policy of Hawk-eye to affect the least
concealment. Presuming on his disguise, and his ability to sustain the
character he had assumed, he took the most plain and direct route to the place.
The hour, however, afforded him some little of that protection, which he
appeared so much to despise. The boys were already buried in sleep, and all the
women, and most of the warriors, had now retired to their lodges for the night.
Four or five of the latter, only, lingered about the door of the prison of
Uncas, wary, but close observers of the manner of their captive.
At the sight of Gamut,
accompanied by one in the well known masquerade of their most distinguished
conjuror, they readily made a passage to the entrance. Still, they betrayed no
intention to depart. On the other hand, they were evidently disposed to remain
bound to the place by an additional interest in the mysterious mummeries that
they, of course, expected from such a visit. From the total inability of the
scout to address the Hurons, in their own language, he was compelled to trust
the conversation entirely to David. Notwithstanding the simplicity of the
latter, he did ample justice to the instructions he had received, more than
fulfilling the strongest hopes of his teacher.
“The Delawares are
women!” he exclaimed. addressing himself to the savage who had a slight understanding
of the language, in which he spoke; “the Yengeese, my foolish countrymen, have
told them to take up the tomahawk, and strike their fathers in the Canadas, and
they have forgotten their sex. Does my brother wish to hear ‘le Cerf Agile’ ask
for his petticoats, and see him weep before the Hurons, at the stake?”
The exclamation, “hugh,”
delivered in a strong tone of assent, announced the gratification the savage
would receive, in witnessing such an exhibition of weakness in an enemy so long
hated and so much feared.
“Then let him step
aside, and the cunning man will blow upon the dog! Tell it to my brothers.”
The Huron explained the
meaning of David to his fellows, who, in their turn, listened to the project
with that sort of satisfaction, that their untamed spirits might be expected to
find, in such a refinement in cruelty. They drew back a little from the
entrance, and motioned to the supposed conjuror to enter. But the bear, instead
of obeying, maintained the seat it had taken, and growled.
“The cunning man is
afraid that his breath will blow upon his brothers, and take away their courage
too,” continued David, improving the hint he received; “they must stand further
off.”
The Hurons, who would
have deemed such a misfortune the heaviest calamity that could befall them,
fell back in a body, taking a position where they were out of ear-shot, though,
at the same time, they could command a view of the entrance to the lodge. Then,
as if satisfied of their safety, the scout left his position, and slowly
entered the place. It was silent and gloomy, being tenanted solely by the
captive, and lighted by the dying embers of a fire, which had been used for the
purposes of cookery.
Uncas occupied a
distant corner, in a reclining attitude, being rigidly bound, both hands and
feet, by strong and painful withes. When the frightful object first presented
itself to the young Mohican he did not deign to bestow a single glance on the
animal. The scout, who had left David at the door, to ascertain they were not
observed, thought it prudent to preserve his disguise until assured of their
privacy. Instead of speaking, therefore, he exerted himself to enact one of the
antics of the animal he represented. The young Mohican, who, at first, believed
his enemies had sent in a real beast to torment him, and try his nerves,
detected, in those performances that to Heyward had appeared so accurate,
certain blemishes, that at once betrayed the counterfeit. Had Hawk-eye been
aware of the low estimation in which the more skilful Uncas held his
representations, he would, probably, have prolonged the entertainment a little
in pique. But the scornful expression of the young man’s eye, admitted of so
many constructions, that the worthy scout was spared the mortification of such
a discovery. As soon, therefore, as David gave the preconcerted signal, a low,
hissing sound, was heard in the lodge, in place of the fierce growlings of the
bear.
Uncas had cast his body
back against the wall of the but, and closed his eyes, as if willing to exclude
such contemptible and disagreeable objects from his sight. But the moment the
noise of the serpent was heard, he arose, and cast his looks on each side of
him, bending his head low, and turning it inquiringly in every direction, until
his keen eye rested on the shaggy monster, where it remained riveted, as though
fixed by the power of a charm. Again the same sounds were repeated, evidently
proceeding from the mouth of the beast. Once more the eyes of the youth roamed
over the interior of the lodge, and returning to their former resting-place, he
uttered, in a deep, suppressed voice, the usual exclamation--
“Hugh!”
“Cut his bands,” said
Hawk-eye to David, who just then approached them.
The singer did as he
was ordered, and Uncas found his limbs released. At the same moment, the dried
skin of the animal rattled hurriedly, and presently the scout arose to his
feet, in his proper person. The Mohican appeared to comprehend the nature of
the attempt his friend had made, intuitively; neither tongue nor feature
betraying another symptom of surprise. When Hawk-eye had cast his shaggy
vestment, which was done by simply loosing certain thongs of skin, he drew a
long glittering knife, and put it in the hands of Uncas.
“The red Hurons are
without,” he said; “let us be ready.”
At the same time, he
laid his finger significantly on another similar weapon; both being the fruits
of his prowess among their enemies during the evening.
“We will go!” said
Uncas.
“Whither?”
“To the Tortosies--they
are the children of my grandfathers!”
“Ay, lad,” said the
scout in English, a language he was apt to use when a little abstracted in
mind; “the same blood runs in your veins, I believe; but time and distance has
a little changed its colour! What shall we do with the Mingoes at the door!
They count six, and this singer is as good as nothing.”
“The Hurons are
boasters!” said Uncas, scornfully; “their ‘totem’ is a moose; and they run like
snails. The Delawares are children of the tortoise; and they outstrip the deer!”
“Ay, lad, there is
truth in what you say; and I doubt not, on a rush, you would pass the whole
nation; and in a straight race of two miles, would be in, and get your breath
again, afore a knave of them all was within hearing of the other village! But
the gift of a white man lies more in his arms than in his legs. As for myself,
I can brain a Huron, as well as a better man, but when it comes to a race, the
knaves would prove too much for me.”
Uncas, who had already
approached the door, in readiness to lead the way, now recoiled, and placed
himself, once more, in the bottom of the lodge. But Hawk-eye, who was too much
occupied with his own thoughts to note the movement, continued speaking more to
himself than to his companion.
“After all,” he said, “it
is unreasonable to keep one man in bondage to the gifts of another. So, Uncas,
you had better take the leap, while I will put on the skin again, and trust to
cunning for want of speed.”
The young Mohican made
no reply, but quietly folded his arms, and leaned his body against one of the
upright posts that supported the wall of the hut.
“Well,” said the scout,
looking up at him, in some surprise, “why do you tarry; there will be time
enough for me, as the knaves will give chase to you at first.”
“Uncas will stay,” was
the calm reply.
“For what?”
“To fight with his
father’s brother, and die with the friend of the Delawares.”
“Ay, lad,” returned
Hawk-eye, squeezing the hand of Uncas between his own iron fingers; “’twould
have been more like a Mingo than a Mohican, had you left me. But I thought I
would make the offer, seeing that youth commonly loves life. Well, what can’t
be done by main courage, in war, must be done by circumvention. Put on the
skin--I doubt not you can play the bear nearly as well as myself.”
Whatever might have
been the private opinion of Uncas of their respective abilities, in this
particular, his grave countenance manifested no opinion of his own superiority.
He silently and expeditiously encased himself in the covering of the beast, and
then awaited such other movements as his more aged companion saw fit to
dictate.
“Now, friend,” said
Hawk-eye, addressing David, “an exchange of garments will be a great
convenience to you, inasmuch as you are but little accustomed to the
make-shifts of the wilderness. Here, take my hunting shirt and cap, and give me
your blanket and hat. You must trust me with the book and spectacles, as well
as the tooter, too; if we ever meet again, in better times, you shall have all
back again, with many thanks in the bargain.”
David parted with the
several articles named with a readiness that would have done great credit to
his liberality, had he not certainly profited, in many particulars, by the
exchange. Hawk-eye was not long in assuming his borrowed garments; and when his
keen, restless eyes were hid behind the glasses, and his head was surmounted by
the triangular beaver, as their statures were not dissimilar, he might readily
have passed for the singer, by star-light. As soon as these dispositions were
made, the scout turned to David, and gave him his parting instructions.
“Are you much given to
cowardice?” he bluntly asked, by way of obtaining a suitable understanding of
the whole case, before he ventured a prescription.
“My pursuits are
peaceful, and my temper, I humbly trust, is greatly given to mercy and love,”
returned David, a little nettled at so direct an attack on his manhood; “but
there are none who can say, that I have ever forgotten my faith in the Lord, even
in the greatest straits.”
“Your chiefest danger
will be at the moment when the savages find out that they have been deceived.
If you are not then knocked in the head, your being a non-compossur will
protect you, and you’ll then have good reason to expect to die in your bed. If
you stay, it must be to sit down here in the shadow, and take the part of
Uncas, until such time as the cunning of the Indians discover the cheat, when,
as I have already said, your time of trial will come. So choose for yourself,
to make a rush, or tarry here.”
“Even so,” said David,
firmly; “I will abide in the place of the Delaware; bravely and generously has
he battled in my behalf, and this, and more, will I dare in his service.”
“You have spoken as a
man, and like one who, under wiser schooling, would have been brought to better
things. Hold your head down, and draw in your legs; their formation might tell
the truth too early. Keep silent as long as may be; and it would be wise when
you do speak, to break out suddenly in one of your shoutings, which will serve
to remind the Indians that you are not altogether as responsible as men should
be. If, however, they take your scalp, as I trust and believe they will not,
depend on it, Uncas and I will not forget the deed, but revenge it, as becomes
true warriors and trusty friends.”
“Hold!” said David,
perceiving that with this assurance they were about to leave him; “I am an
unworthy and humble follower of one, who taught not the damnable principle of
revenge. Should I fall, therefore, seek no victims to my manes, but rather
forgive my destroyers; and if you remember them at all, let it be in prayers
for the enlightening of their minds, and for their eternal welfare!”
The scout hesitated,
and appeared to muse deeply.
“There is a principle
in that,” he said, “different from the law of the woods! and yet it is fair and
noble to reflect upon!” Then, heaving a heavy sigh, probably among the last he
ever drew in pining for the condition he had so long abandoned, he added--“It
is what I would wish to practyse myself, as one without a cross of blood,
though it is not always easy to deal with an Indian, as you would with a fellow
christian. God bless you, friend; I do believe your scent is not greatly wrong,
when the matter is duly considered, and keeping eternity before the eyes,
though much depends on the natural gifts, and the force of temptation.”
So saying, the scout
returned, and shook David cordially by the hand; after which act of friendship,
he immediately left the lodge, attended by the new representative of the beast.
The instant Hawk-eye
found himself under the observation of the Hurons, he drew up his tall form in
the rigid manner of David, threw out his arm in the act of keeping time, and
commenced, what he intended for an imitation of his psalmody. Happily, for the
success of this delicate adventure, he had to deal with ears but little
practised in the concord of sweet sounds, or the miserable effort would
infallibly have been detected. It was necessary to pass within a dangerous
proximity of the dark groupe of savages, and the voice of the scout grew louder
as they drew nigher. When at the nearest point, the Huron who spoke the
English, thrust out an arm, and stopped the supposed singing-master.
“The Delaware dog!” he
said, leaning forward, and peering through the dim light to catch the
expression of the other’s features; “is he afraid? will the Hurons hear his
groans?”
A growl, so exceedingly
fierce and natural, proceeded from the beast, that the young Indian released
his hold, and started aside, as if to assure himself that it was not a
veritable bear, and no counterfeit, that was rolling before him. Hawk-eye, who
feared his voice would betray him to his subtle enemies, gladly profited by the
interruption, to break out anew, in such a burst of musical expression, as
would, probably, in more refined state of society, have been termed a “grand
crash.” Among his actual auditors, however, it merely gave him an additional
claim to that respect, which they never withhold from such as are believed to
be the subjects of mental alienation. The little knot of Indians drew back, in
a body, and suffered, as they thought, the conjuror and his inspired assistant
to proceed.
It required no common
exercise of fortitude in Uncas and the scout, to continue the dignified and
deliberate pace they had assumed in passing the lodges; especially, as they
immediately perceived, that curiosity had so far mastered fear, as to induce
the watchers to approach the hut, in order to witness the effect of the
incantations. The least injudicious or impatient movement on the part of David,
might betray them, and time was absolutely necessary to insure the safety of
the scout. The loud noise the latter conceived it politic to continue, drew
many curious gazers to the doors of the different huts, as they passed; and
once or twice a dark looking warrior stepped across their path, led to the act
by superstition or watchfulness. They were not, however, interrupted; the
darkness of the hour, and the boldness of the attempt, proving their principal
friends.
The adventurers had got
clear of the village, and were now swiftly approaching the shelter of the
woods, when a loud and long cry arose from the lodge where Uncas had been
confined. The Mohican started on his feet, and shook his shaggy covering, as
though the animal he counterfeited was about to make some desperate effort.
“Hold!” said the scout,
grasping his friend by the shoulder, “let them yell again! ’Twas nothing but
their wonderment.”
He had no occasion to
delay, for at the next instant a burst of cries filled the outer air, and ran
along the whole extent of the village. Uncas cast his skin, and stepped forth
in his own lofty and beautiful proportions. Hawk-eye tapped him lightly on the
shoulder, and glided ahead.
“Now let the devils
strike our scent!” said the scout, tearing two rifles, with all their attendant
accoutrements from beneath a bush, and flourishing ‘kill-deer’ as he handed
Uncas a weapon; “two, at least, will find it to their deaths.”
Then throwing their
pieces to a low trail, like sportsmen in readiness for their game, they dashed
forward, and were soon buried in the sombre darkness of the forest.
.Int. “I shall remember: When
Cæsar says, do this, it is performed.
Julius Cæsar
The impatience of the
savages who lingered about the prison of Uncas, as has been seen, had overcome
their dread of the conjuror’s breath. They stole cautiously, and with beating
hearts, to a crevice, through which the faint light of the fire was glimmering.
For several minutes, they mistook the form of David for that of their prisoner;
but the very accident which Hawk-eye had foreseen, occurred. Tired of keeping
the extremities of his long person so near together, the singer gradually
suffered the lower limbs to extend themselves, until one of his misshapen feet
actually came in contact with, and shoved aside, the embers of the fire. At
first, the Hurons believed the Delaware had been thus deformed by witchcraft.
But when David, unconscious of being observed, turned his head, and exposed his
simple, mild countenance, in place of the stern and haughty lineaments of their
prisoner, it would have exceeded the credulity of even a native to have doubted
any longer. They rushed together into the lodge, and laying their hands, with
but little ceremony, on their captive, immediately detected the imposition.
Then arose the cry first heard by the fugitives. It was succeeded by the most
frantic and angry demonstrations of vengeance. David, however firm in his
determination to cover the retreat of his friends, was now compelled to believe
that his own final hour had come. Deprived of his book and his pipe, he was
fain to trust to a memory that rarely failed him on such subjects, and breaking
forth in a loud and impassioned strain, he endeavoured to smooth his passage
into the other world, by singing the opening verse of a funeral anthem. The
Indians were seasonably reminded of his infirmity, and rushing into the open
air, they aroused the village in the manner described.
A native warrior fights
as he sleeps, without the protection of any thing defensive. The sounds of the
alarm were, therefore, hardly uttered, before two hundred men were afoot, and
ready for the battle, or the chase, as either might be required. The escape was
soon known, and the whole tribe crowded, in a body, around the council lodge,
impatiently awaiting the instruction of their chiefs. In such a sudden demand
on their wisdom, the presence of the cunning Magua could scarcely fail of being
needed. His name was mentioned, and all looked round in wonder, that he did not
appear. Messengers were then despatched to his lodge, requiring his presence.
In the mean time, some
of the swiftest and most discreet of the young men were ordered to make the
circuit of the clearing, under cover of the woods, in order to ascertain that
their suspected neighbours, the Delawares, designed no mischief. Women and
children ran to and fro; and, in short, the whole encampment exhibited another
scene of wild and savage confusion. Gradually, however, these symptoms of
disorder diminished, and in a few minutes the oldest and most distinguished
chiefs were assembled in the lodge, in grave consultation.
The clamour of many
voices soon announced that a party approached, who might be expected to
communicate some intelligence that would explain the mystery of the novel
surprise. The crowd without gave way, and several warriors entered the place,
bringing with them the hapless conjuror, who had been left so long by the scout
in such a painful duresse.
Notwithstanding this
man was held in very unequal estimation among the Hurons, some believing
implicitly in his power, and others deeming him an impostor, he was now
listened to by all, with the deepest attention. When his brief story was ended,
the father of the sick woman stepped forth, and in a few pithy expressions,
related, in his turn, what he knew. These two narratives gave a proper
direction to the subsequent inquiries, which were now made with the
characteristic gravity and cunning of the savages.
Instead of rushing in a
confused and disorderly throng to the cavern, ten of the wisest and firmest
among the chiefs were selected to prosecute the investigation. As no time was
to be lost, the instant the choice was made, the individuals appointed rose, in
a body, and left the place without speaking. On reaching the entrance, the
younger men in advance made way for their seniors, and the whole proceeded
along the low, dark gallery, with the firmness of warriors ready to devote
themselves to the public good, though, at the same time, secretly doubting the
nature of the power with which they were about to contend.
The outer apartment of
the cavern was silent and gloomy. The woman lay in her usual place and posture,
though there were those present who had just affirmed they had seen her borne
to the woods, by supposed “medicine of the white men.” Such a direct and
palpable contradiction of the tale related by the father, caused all eyes to be
turned on him. Chafed by the silent imputation, and inwardly troubled by so
unaccountable a circumstance, the chief advanced to the side of the bed, and
stooping, cast an incredulous look at the features, as if still distrusting
their reality. His daughter was dead.
The unerring feeling of
nature for a moment prevailed, and the old warrior hid his eyes in sorrow. Then
recovering his self-possession, he faced his companions, and pointing towards
the corpse, he said, in the language of his people--
“The wife of my young
man has left us! the Great Spirit is angry with his children.”
The mournful
intelligence was received in solemn silence. After a short pause, one of the
elder Indians was about to speak, when a dark looking object was seen rolling
out of an adjoining apartment, into the very centre of the room where they
stood. Ignorant of the nature of the beings they had to deal with, the whole
party drew back a little, and gazed in admiration, until the object fronted the
light, and rising frightfully on end, exhibited the distorted, but still fierce
and sullen, features of Magua. The discovery was succeeded by a loud and
general exclamation of amazement.
As soon, however, as
the true situation of the chief was understood, several ready knives appeared,
and his limbs and tongue were quickly released. The Huron arose, and shook
himself like a lion quitting his lair. Not a word escaped him, though his hand
played convulsively with the handle of his knife, while his lowering eyes
scanned the whole party, as if they sought an object suited to the first burst
of his vengeance.
It was happy for Uncas
and the scout, and even David, that they were all beyond the reach of his arm
at such a moment, for assuredly, no refinement in cruelty would then have
deferred their deaths, in opposition to the promptings of the fierce temper
that nearly choked him. Meeting every where faces that he knew as friends, the
savage grated his teeth together, like rasps of iron, and swallowed his
passion, for want of a victim on whom to vent it. This exhibition of anger was
keenly noted by all present, and from an apprehension of exasperating a temper
that was already chafed nearly to madness, several minutes were suffered to
pass before another word was uttered. When, however, suitable time had elapsed,
the oldest of the party spoke.
‘My friend has found an
enemy!” he said. “Is he nigh, that the Hurons may take revenge!”
“Let the Delaware die!”
exclaimed Magua, in a voice of thunder.
Another long and
expressive silence was observed, and was broken, as before, with due
precaution, by the same individual.
“The Mohican is swift
of foot, and leaps far,” he said; “but my young men are on his trail.”
“Is he gone?” demanded
Magua, in tones so deep and guttural, that they seemed to proceed from his
inmost chest.
“An evil spirit has
been among us, and the Delaware has blinded our eyes.”
“An evil spirit!”
repeated the other, bitterly; “’tis the spirit that has taken the lives of so
many Hurons. The spirit that slew my young men at ‘the tumbling river;’ that
took their scalps at the ‘healing spring;’ and who has, now, bound the arms of
le Renard Subtil!”
“Of whom does my friend
speak?”
“Of the dog who carries
the heart and cunning of a Huron under a pale skin--la Longue Carabine.”
The pronunciation of so
terrible a name, produced the usual effect among his auditors. But when time
was given for reflection, and the warriors remembered that their formidable and
daring enemy had even been in the bosom of their encampment, working injury,
fearful rage took the place of wonder, and all those fierce passions with which
the bosom of Magua had just been struggling, were suddenly transferred to his
companions. Some among them gnashed their teeth in anger, others vented their
feelings in yells, and some, again, beat the air as fran tically, as if the
object of their resentment was suffering under their blows. But this sudden
outbreaking of temper, as quickly subsided in the still and sullen restraint
they most affected in their moments of inaction.
Magua, who had, in his
turn, found leisure for a little reflection, now changed his manner, and
assumed the air of one who knew how to think and act with a dignity worthy of
so grave a subject.
“Let us go to my
people,” he said; “they wait for us.”
His companions
consented, in silence, and the whole of the savage party left the cavern, and
returned to the council lodge. When they were seated, all their eyes turned on
Magua, who understood, from such an indication, that, by common consent, they
had devolved the duty of relating what had passed, on him. He arose, and told
his tale, without duplicity or reservation. The whole deception practised by
both Duncan and Hawk-eye, was, of course, laid naked; and no room was found,
even for the most superstitious of the tribe, any longer to affix a doubt on
the character of the occurrences. It was but too apparent, that they had been
insultingly, shamefully, disgracefully, deceived. When he had ended, and
resumed his seat, the collected tribe--for his auditors, in substance, included
all the fighting men of the party--sate regarding each other like men
astonished equally at the audacity and the success of their enemies. The next
consideration, however, was the means and opportunities for revenge.
Additional pursuers
were sent on the trail of the fugitives; and then the chiefs applied themselves
in earnest to the business of consultation. Many different expedients were
proposed by the elder warriors, in succession, to all of which Magua was a
silent and respectful listener. That subtle savage had recovered his artifice
and self-command, and now proceeded towards his object with his customary
caution and skill. It was only when each one disposed to speak had uttered his
sentiments, that he prepared to advance his own opinions. They were given with
additional weight, from the circumstance, that some of the runners had already
returned, and reported, that their enemies had been traced so far, as to leave
no doubt of their having sought safety in the neighbouring camp of their
suspected allies, the Delawares. With the advantage of possessing this
important intelligence, the chief warily laid his plans before his fellows,
and, as might have been anticipated from his eloquence and cunning, they were
adopted without a dissenting voice. They were, briefly, as follows, both in
opinions and in motives.
It has been already
stated, that in obedience to a policy rarely departed from, the sisters were
separated so soon as they reached the Huron village. Magua had early
discovered, that in retaining the person of Alice, he possessed the most effectual
check on Cora. When they parted, therefore, he kept the former within reach of
his hand, consigning the one he most valued to the keeping of their allies. The
arrangement was understood to be merely temporary, and was made as much with a
view to flatter his neighbours, as in obedience to the invariable rule of
Indian policy.
While goaded,
incessantly, by those revengeful impulses that in a savage seldom slumber, the
chief was still attentive to his more permanent, personal interests. The
follies and disloyalty committed in his youth, were to be expiated by a long
and painful penance, ere he could be restored to the full enjoyment of the
confidence of his ancient people; and without confidence, there could be no
authority in an Indian tribe. In this delicate and arduous situation, the
crafty native had neglected no means of increasing his influence; and one of
the happiest of his expedients, had been the success with which he had
cultivated the favour of their powerful and most dangerous neighbour. The
result of his experiments had answered all the expectations of his policy--for
the Hurons were in no degree exempt from that governing principle of our
nature, which induces man to value his gifts precisely in the degree that they
are appreciated by others.
But while he was making
this ostensible sacrifice to general considerations, Magua never lost sight of
his individual motives. The latter had been frustrated by the unlooked-for
events, which had thus, at a single blow, placed all his prisoners beyond his control,
and he now found himself reduced to the necessity of suing for favours to those
whom it had so lately been his policy to oblige.
Several of the chiefs
had proposed deep and treacherous schemes to surprise the Delawares, and by
gaining possession of their camp, to recover their prisoners by the same blow;
for all agreed that their honour, their interests, and the peace and happiness
of their dead countrymen, imperiously required them speedily to immolate some
victims to their revenge. But plans so dangerous to attempt, and of such
doubtful issue, Magua found little difficulty in defeating. He exposed their
risque and fallacy with his usual skill; and it was only after he had removed
every impediment, in the shape of opposing advice, that he ventured to propose
his own projects.
He commenced by
flattering the self-love of his auditors; a never-failing method of commanding
attention. When he had enumerated the many different occasions on which the
Hurons had exhibited their courage and prowess, in the punishment of insults,
he digressed in a high encomium on the virtue of wisdom. He painted the
quality, as forming the great point of difference between the beaver and other
brutes; between brutes and men; and, finally, between the Hurons, in particular,
and the rest of the human race. After he had sufficiently extolled the property
of discretion, he undertook to exhibit in what manner its use was applicable to
the present situation of their tribe. On the one hand, he said, was their great
pale father, the governor of the Canadas, who had looked upon his children with
a hard eye, since their tomahawks had been so red; on the other, a people as
numerous as themselves, who spoke a different language, possessed different
interests, and loved them not, and who would be glad of any pretence to bring
them in disgrace with the great white chief. Then he spoke of their
necessities; of the gifts they had a right to expect for their past services;
of their distance from their proper hunting grounds and native villages; and of
the necessity of consulting prudence more, and inclination less, in such
critical circumstances. When he perceived, that, while the old men applauded
his moderation, many of the fiercest and most distinguished of the warriors
listened to these politic plans with lowering looks, he cunningly led them back
to the subject which they most loved. He spoke openly of the fruits of their
wisdom, which he boldly pronounced would be a complete and final triumph over
their enemies. He even darkly hinted that their success might be extended, with
proper caution, in such a manner, as to include the destruction of all whom
they had reason to hate. In short, he so blended the warlike with the artful,
as to flatter the propensities of both parties, and to leave to each subject
for hope, while neither could say, it clearly comprehended his intentions.
The orator, or the
politician, who can produce such a state of things, is commonly popular with
his contemporaries, however he may be treated by posterity. All perceived that
more was meant than was uttered, and each one believed that the hidden meaning
was precisely such as his own faculties enabled him to anticipate.
In this happy state of
things, it is not surprising that the management of Magua prevailed. The tribe
consented to act with deliberation, and with one voice they committed the
direction of the whole affair to the government of the chief, who had suggested
such wise and intelligible expedients.
Magua had now attained
one great object of all his cunning and enterprise. The ground he had lost in
the favour of his people was completely regained, and he found himself even
placed at the head of affairs. He was, in truth, their ruler; and so long as he
could maintain his popularity, no monarch could be more despotic, especially
while the tribe continued in a hostile country. Throwing off, therefore, the
appearance of consultation, he assumed the grave air of authority, necessary to
support the dignity of his office.
Runners were despatched
for intelligence, in different directions; spies were ordered to approach and
feel the encampment of the Delawares; the warriors were dismissed to their
lodges, with an intimation that their services would soon be needed; and the
women and children were ordered to retire, with a warning, that it was their
province to be silent. When these several arrangements were made, Magua passed
through the village, stopping here and there, to pay a visit where he thought
his presence might be flattering to the individual. He confirmed his friends in
their confidence; fixed the wavering; and gratified all. Then he sought his own
lodge. The wife the Huron chief had abandoned, when he was chased from among
his people, was dead. Children he had none; and he now occupied a hut, without
companion of any sort. It was, in fact, the dilapidated and solitary structure
in which David had been discovered, and whom he had tolerated in his presence,
on those few occasions when they met, with the contemptuous indifference of a
haughty superiority.
Hither, then, Magua
retired, when his labours of policy were ended. While others slept, however, he
neither knew nor sought any repose. Had there been one sufficiently curious to
have watched the movements of the newly elected chief, he would have seen him
seated in a corner of his lodge, musing on the subject of his future plans,
from the hour of his retirement, to the time he had appointed for the warriors
to assemble again. Occasionally, the air breathed through the crevices of the
hut, and the low flame that fluttered about the embers of the fire, threw their
wavering light on the person of the sullen recluse. At such moments, it would
not have been difficult to have fancied the dusky savage the Prince of
Darkness, brooding on his own fancied wrongs, and plotting evil.
Long before the day
dawned, however, warrior after warrior entered the solitary hut of Magua, until
they had collected to the number of twenty. Each bore his rifle, and all the
other accoutrements of war; though the paint was uniformly peaceful. The
entrance of these fierce looking beings was unnoticed; some seating themselves
in the shadows of the place, and others standing like motionless statues, in
profound silence, until the whole of the designated band was collected.
Then Magua arose, and
gave the signal to proceed, marching himself in advance. They followed their
leader singly, and in that well known order, which has obtained the
distinguishing appellation of “Indian file.” Unlike other men engaged in the
spirit-stirring business of war, they stole from their camp, unostentatiously
and unobserved, resembling a band of gliding spectres, more than warriors
seeking the bubble reputation by deeds of desperate daring.
Instead of taking the
path which led directly towards the camp of the Delawares, Magua led his party
for some distance down the windings of the stream, and along the little
artificial lake of the beavers. The day began to dawn as they entered the
clearing, which had been formed by those sagacious and industrious animals.
Though Magua, who had resumed his ancient garb, bore the outline of a fox, on
the dressed skin which formed his robe, there was one chief of his party, who
carried the beaver as his peculiar symbol, or “totem.” There would have been a
species of profanity in the omission, had this man passed so powerful a
community of his fancied kindred, without bestowing some evidence of his
regard. Accordingly, he paused, and spoke in words as kind and friendly, as if
he were addressing more intelligent beings. He called the animals his cousins,
and reminded them that his protecting influence was the reason they remained
unharmed, while so many avaricious traders were prompting the Indians to take
their lives. He promised a continuance of his favours, and admonished them to
be grateful. After which, he spoke of the expedition in which he was himself
engaged, and intimated, though with sufficient delicacy and circumlocution, the
expediency of bestowing on their relative a portion of that wisdom for which
they were so renowned.
During the utterance of
this extraordinary address, the companions of the speaker were as grave and as
attentive to his language, as though they were all equally impressed with its
propriety. Once or twice black objects were seen rising to the surface of the
water, and the Huron expressed pleasure, conceiving that his words were not
bestowed in vain. Just as he had ended his address, the head of a large beaver
was thrust from the door of a lodge, whose earthen walls had been much injured,
and which the party had believed, from its situation, was uninhabited. Such an
extraordinary sign of confidence was received by the orator as a highly
favourable omen; and, though the animal retreated a little precipitately, he
was lavish of his thanks and commendations.
When Magua thought
sufficient time had been lost, in gratifying the family affection of the
warrior, he again made the signal to proceed. As the Indians moved away in a
body, and with a step that would have been inaudible to the ears of any common
man, the same venerable looking beaver once more ventured his head from its
cover. Had any of the Hurons turned to look behind them, they would have seen
the animal watching their movements with an interest and sagacity that might
easily have been mistaken for reason. Indeed, so very distinct and intelligible
were the devices of the quadruped, that even the most experienced observer
would have been at a loss to account for its actions, until the moment when the
party entered the forest, when the whole would have been explained, by seeing
the entire animal issue from the lodge, uncasing, by the act, the grave and
attentive features of Chingachgook from his mask of fur.
“Brief, I pray you; for
you see, ’tis a busy time with me.”
Much Ado About Nothing
The tribe, or rather
half-tribe, of Delawares, which has been so often mentioned, and whose present
place of encampment was so nigh the temporary village of the Hurons, could
assemble about an equal number of warriors with the latter people. Like their
neighbours, they had followed Montcalm into the territories of the English
crown, and were making heavy and serious inroads on the hunting grounds of the
Mohawks, though they had seen fit, with the mysterious reserve so common among
the natives, to withhold their assistance at the moment when it was most
required. The French had accounted for this unexpected defection on the part of
their ally in various ways. It was the prevalent opinion, however, that they
had been influenced by veneration for the ancient treaty, that had once made
them dependent on the Iroquois for military protection, and now rendered them
reluctant to encounter their former masters. As for the tribe itself, it had
been content to announce to Montcalm, through his emissaries, with Indian
brevity, that their hatchets were dull, and time was necessary to sharpen them.
The politic captain of the Canadas had deemed it wiser to submit to entertain a
passive friend, than, by any acts of ill-judged severity, to convert him into
an open enemy.
On that morning when
Magua led his silent party from the settlement of the beavers into the forest,
in the manner described, the sun rose upon the Delaware encampment, as though
it had suddenly burst upon a busy people, actively employed in all the
customary avocations of high noon. The women ran from lodge to lodge, some
engaged in preparing their morning’s meal, a few earnestly bent on seeking the
comforts necessary to their habits, but more pausing to exchange hasty and
whispered sentences with their friends. The warriors were lounging in groupes,
musing more than they conversed; and when a few words were uttered, speaking
like men who deeply weighed their opinions. The instruments of the chase were
to be seen in abundance among the lodges; but none departed. Here and there, a
warrior might be seen examining his arms, with an attention that is rarely
bestowed on the implements, when no other enemy than the beasts of the forest
are expected to be encountered. And, occasionally, the eyes of a whole groupe
were turned simultaneously towards a large and silent lodge in the centre of
the village, as if it contained the subject of their common thoughts.
During the existence of
this scene, a man suddenly appeared at the farthest extremity of that platform
of rock which formed the level of the village. He was without arms, and his
paint tended rather to soften than increase the natural sternness of his
austere and marked countenance. When in full view of the Delawares, he stopped,
and made a gesture of amity, by throwing his arm upward towards heaven, and
then letting it fall impressively on his breast. The inhabitants of the village
answered his salute by a low murmur of welcome, and encouraged him to advance
by similar indications of friendship. Fortified by these assurances, the dark
figure left the brow of the natural rocky terrace, where it had stood a moment,
drawn in a strong outline against the blushing morning sky, and moved, with
dignity, into the very centre of the huts. As he approached, nothing was
audible but the rattling of the light silver ornaments that loaded his arms and
neck, and the tinkling of the little bells that fringed his deer-skin
moccasins. He made, as he advanced, many courteous signs of greeting to the men
he passed, neglecting to notice the women, however, as though he deemed their
favour, in the present enterprise, of no importance. When he had reached the
groupe, in which it was evident, by the haughtiness of their common mien, that
the principal chiefs were collected, the stranger paused, and then the
Delawares saw that the active and erect form that stood before them, was that
of the well known Huron chief, le Renard Subtil.
His reception was
grave, silent, and wary. The warriors in front stepped aside, opening the way
to their most approved orator by the action; one who spoke all those languages,
that were cultivated among the northern aborigines.
“The wise Huron is
welcome,” said the Delaware, in the language of the Maquas; “he is come to eat
his ‘suc-ca-tush’ with his brothers of the lakes!”
“He is come;” repeated
Magua, bending his head with the dignity of an eastern prince.
The chief extended his
arm, and taking the other by the wrist, they once more exchanged their friendly
salutations. Then the Delaware invited his guest to enter his own lodge, and
share his morning meal. The invitation was accepted, and the two warriors,
attended by three or four of the old men, walked calmly away, leaving the rest
of the tribe devoured by a desire to understand the reasons of so unusual a
visit, and yet not betraying the least impatience, by any sign or syllable.
During the short and
frugal repast that followed, the conversation was extremely circumspect, and
related entirely to the events of the hunt, in which Magua had so lately been
engaged. It would have been impossible for the most finished breeding to wear
more of the appearance of considering the visit as a thing of course, than did
his hosts, notwithstanding every individual present was perfectly aware, that
it must be connected with some secret object, and that, probably, of the last
importance to themselves. When the appetites of the whole were appeased, the
squaws removed the trenchers and gourds, and the two parties began to prepare
themselves for a keen and subtle trial of their wits.
“Is the face of my
great Canada father turned again towards his Huron children?” demanded the
orator of the Delawares.
“When was it ever
otherwise!” returned Magua. “He calls my people his ‘most beloved.’ ”
The Delaware gravely
bowed his acquiescence to what he knew to be false, and continued--
“The tomahawks of your
young men have been very red!”
“It is so; but they are
now bright and dull--for the Yengeese are dead, and the Delawares are our
neighbours!”
The other acknowledged
the pacific compliment by a graceful gesture of the hand, and remained silent.
Then Magua, as if recalled to such a recollection, by the allusion to the
massacre, demanded--
“Does my prisoner give
trouble to my brothers?”
“She is welcome.”
“The path between the
Hurons and the Delawares is short, and it is open; let her be sent to my
squaws, if she gives trouble to my brother.”
“She is welcome,”
returned the chief of the latter nation, still more emphatically.
The baffled Magua continued
silent several minutes, apparently indifferent, however, to the repulse he had
received in this, his opening, effort to regain possession of Cora.
“Do my young men leave
the Delawares room on the mountains for their hunts?” he, at length, continued.
“The Lenape are rulers
of their own hills,” returned the other, a little haughtily.
“It is well. Justice is
the master of a red-skin! Why should they brighten their tomahawks, and sharpen
their knives against each other! Are there not pale-faces for enemies!”
“Good!” exclaimed two
or three of his auditors at the same time.
Magua waited a little,
to permit his words to soften the feelings of the Delawares, before he added--
“Have there not been
strange moccasins in the woods? Have not my brothers scented the feet of white
men?”
“Let my Canada father
come!” returned the other, evasively; “his children are ready to see him.”
“When the Great Chief
comes, it is to smoke with the Indians, in their wigwams. The Hurons say, too,
he is welcome. But the Yengeese have long arms, and legs that never tire! My
young men dreamed they had seen the trail of the Yengeese nigh the village of
the Delawares?”
“They will not find the
Lenape asleep.”
“It is well. The
warrior whose eye is open, can see his enemy,” said Magua, once more shifting
his ground, when he found himself unable to penetrate the caution of his
companion. “I have brought gifts to my brother. His nation would not go on the
warpath, because they did not think it well; but their friends have remembered
where they lived.”
When he had thus
announced his liberal intention, the crafty chief arose, and gravely spread his
presents before the dazzled eyes of his hosts. They consisted principally of
trinkets of little value, plundered from the slaughtered and captured females
of William Henry. In the division of the baubles, the cunning Huron discovered
no less art than in their selection. While he bestowed those of greater value
on the two most distinguished warriors, one of whom was his host, he seasoned his
offerings to their inferiors with such well-timed and apposite compliments, as
left them no grounds of complaint. In short, the whole ceremony contained such
a happy blending of the profitable with the flattering, that it was not
difficult for the donor immediately to read the effect of a generosity so aptly
mingled with praise, in the eyes of those he addressed.
This well judged and
politic stroke on the part of Magua, was not without its instantaneous results.
The Delawares lost their stern gravity, in a much more cordial expression of
features; and the host, in particular, after contemplating his own liberal
share of the spoil, for some moments, with peculiar gratification, repeated,
with strong emphasis, the words--
“My brother is a wise
chief. He is welcome!”
“The Hurons love their
friends the Delawares,” returned Magua. “Why should they not! they are coloured
by the same sun, and their just men will hunt in the same grounds after death.
The red-skins should be friends, and look with open eyes on the white men. Has
not my brother scented spies in the woods?”
The Delaware, whose
name, in English, signified “Hard-heart,” an appellation that the French had
translated into “Le-cœur-dur,” forgot that obduracy of purpose, which had
probably obtained him so significant a title. His countenance grew very
sensibly less stern, and he now deigned to answer more directly.
“There have been
strange moccasins about my camp. They have been tracked into my lodges.”
“Did my brother beat
out the dogs?” asked Magua, without adverting in any manner to the former
equivocation of the chief.
“It would not do. The
stranger is always welcome to the children of the Lenape.”
“The stranger, but not
the spy!”
“Would the Yengeese
send their women as spies? Did not the Huron chief say he took women in the
battle?”
“He told no lie. The
Yengeese have sent out their scouts. They have been in my wigwams, but they
found there no one to say welcome. Then they fled to the Delawares--for say
they, the Delawares are our friends; their minds are turned from their Canada
father!”
This insinuation was a
home thrust, and one that, in a more advanced state of society, would have
entitled Magua to the reputation of a skilful diplomatist. The recent defection
of their tribe had, as they well knew themselves, subjected the Delawares to
much reproach among their French allies, and they were now made to feel that
their future actions were to be regarded with jealousy and distrust. There was
no deep insight, into causes and effects, necessary to foresee that such a
situation of things was likely to prove highly prejudicial to all their future
movements. Their distant villages, their hunting grounds, and hundreds of their
women and children, together with a material part of their physical force, were
all actually within the limits of the French territory. Accordingly, this
alarming annunciation was received, as Magua intended, with manifest
disapprobation, if not with alarm.
“Let my father look in
my face,” said Le-cœur-dur; “he will see no change. It is true, my young men
did not go out on the war-path; they had dreams for not doing so. But they love
and venerate the great white chief.”
“Will he think so, when
he hears that his greatest enemy is fed in the camp of his children! When he is
told, a bloody Yengee smokes at your fire! That the pale-face, who has slain so
many of his friends, goes in and out among the Delawares! Go--my great Canada
Father is not a fool!”
“Where is the Yengee
that the Delawares fear!” returned the other; “who has slain my young men! who
is the mortal enemy of my Great Father!”
“La Longue Carabine.”
The Delaware warriors
started at the well known name, betraying, by their amazement, they now learnt,
for the first time, that one so famous among the Indian allies of France, was
within their power.
“What does my brother
mean?” demanded Le-cœur-dur, in a tone that, by its wonder, far exceeded the
usual apathy of his race.
“A Huron never lies,”
returned Magua, coldly, leaning his head against the side of the lodge, and
drawing his slight robe across his tawny breast. “Let the Delawares count their
prisoners; they will find one whose skin is neither red nor pale.”
A long and musing pause
succeeded. Then the chief consulted, apart, with his companions, and messengers
were despatched to collect certain others of the most distinguished men of the
tribe.
As warrior after
warrior dropped in, they were each made acquainted, in turn, with the important
intelligence that Magua had just communicated. The air of surprise, and the
usual, low, deep, guttural exclamation, were common to them all. The news
spread from mouth to mouth, until the whole encampment became powerfully
agitated. The women suspended their labours, to catch such syllables as
unguardedly fell from the lips of the consulting warriors. The boys deserted
their sports, and walking fearlessly among their fathers, looked up in curious
admiration, as they heard the brief exclamations of wonder they so freely expressed,
at the temerity of their hated foe. In short, every occupation was abandoned,
for the time; and all other pursuits seemed discarded, in order that the tribe
might freely indulge, after their own peculiar manner, in an open expression of
their feelings.
When the excitement had
a little abated, the old men disposed themselves seriously to a consideration
of that which it became the honour and safety of their tribe to perform, under
circumstances of so much delicacy and embarrassment. During all these
movements, and in the midst of the general commotion, Magua had not only
maintained his seat, but the very attitude he had originally taken, against the
side of the lodge, where he continued as immovable, and, apparently, as
unconcerned, as if he had no interest in the result. Not a single indication of
the future intentions of his hosts, however, escaped his vigilant eyes. With
his consummate knowledge of the nature of the people with whom he had to deal,
he anticipated every measure on which they decided; and it might almost be
said, that in many instances, he knew their intentions even before they became
known to themselves.
The council of the
Delawares was short. When it was ended, a general bustle announced that it was
to be immediately succeeded by a solemn and formal assemblage of the nation. As
such meetings were rare, and only called on occasions of the last importance,
the subtle Huron, who still sate apart, a wily and dark observer of the
proceedings, now knew that all his projects must be brought to their final
issue. He, therefore, left the lodge, and walked silently forth to the place,
in front of the encampment, whither the warriors were already beginning to
collect.
It might have been half
an hour before each individual, including even the women and children, was in
his place. The delay had been created by the grave preparations that were
deemed necessary to so solemn and unusual a conference. But, when the sun was
seen climbing above the tops of that mountain, against whose bosom the Delawares
had constructed their encampment, most were seated; and as his bright rays
darted from behind the outline of trees that fringed the eminence, they fell
upon as grave, as attentive, and as deeply interested a multitude, as was
probably ever before lighted by his morning beams. Its number somewhat exceeded
a thousand souls.
In a collection of such
serious savages, there is never to be found any impatient aspirant after
premature distinction, standing ready to move his auditors to some hasty, and,
perhaps, injudicious discussion, in order that his own reputation may be the
gainer. An act of so much precipitancy and presumption, would seal the downfall
of precocious intellect for ever. It rested solely with the oldest and most
experienced of the men to lay the subject of their conference before the
people. Until such an one chose to make some movement, no deeds in arms, no
natural gifts, nor any renown as an orator, would have justified the slightest
interruption. On the present occasion, the aged warrior whose privilege it was
to speak, was silent, seemingly oppressed with the magnitude of his subject.
The delay had already continued long beyond the usual, deliberative pause, that
always precedes a conference; but no sign of impatience, or surprise, escaped even
the youngest boy. Occasionally, an eye was raised from the earth, where the
looks of most were riveted, and strayed towards a particular lodge, that was,
however, in no manner distinguished from those around it, except in the
peculiar care that had been taken to protect it against the assaults of the
weather.
At length, one of those
low murmurs that are so apt to disturb a multitude, was heard, and the whole
nation arose to their feet by a common impulse. At that instant, the door of
the lodge in question opened, and three men issuing from it, slowly approached
the place of consultation. They were all aged, even beyond that period to which
the oldest present had reached; but one in the centre, who leaned on his
companions for support, had numbered an amount of years, to which the human
race is seldom permitted to attain. His frame, which had once been tall and
erect, like the cedar, was now bending under the pressure of more than a
century. The elastic, light step of an Indian was gone, and in its place, he
was compelled to toil his tardy way over the ground, inch by inch. His dark,
wrinkled countenance, was in singular and wild contrast with his long white
locks, which floated on his shoulders, in such thickness, as to announce that
generations had probably passed away, since they had last been shorn.
The dress of this
patriarch, for such, considering his vast age, in conjunction with his affinity
and influence with his people, he might very properly be termed, was rich and
imposing, though strictly after the simple fashions of the tribe. His robe was
of the finest skins, which had been deprived of their fur, in order to admit of
a hieroglyphical representation of various deeds in arms, done in former ages.
His bosom was loaded with medals, some in massive silver, and one or two even
in gold, the gifts of various christian potentates, during the long period of
his life. He also wore armlets, and cinctures above the ancles, of the latter
precious metal. His head, on the whole of which the hair had been permitted to
grow, the pursuits of war having so long been abandoned, was encircled by a
sort of silver diadem, which, in its turn, bore lesser and more glittering
ornaments, that sparkled amid the glossy hues of three drooping ostrich
feathers, dyed a deep black, in touching contrast to the colour of his
snow-white locks. His tomahawk was nearly hid in silver, and the handle of his
knife shone like a horn of solid gold.
So soon as the first
hum of emotion and pleasure, which the sudden appearance of this venerated
individual created, had a little subsided, the name of “Tamenund” was whispered
from mouth to mouth. Magua had often heard the fame of this wise and just
Delaware; a reputation that even proceeded so far as to bestow on him the rare
gift of holding secret communion with the Great Spirit, and which has since
transmitted his name, with some slight alteration, to the white usurpers of his
ancient territory, as the imaginary, tutelar saint* of a vast empire. The Huron
chief, therefore, stepped eagerly out a little from the throng, to a spot
whence he might catch a nearer glimpse of the features of the man, whose
decision was likely to produce so deep an influence on his own fortunes.
The eyes of the old man
were closed, as though the organs were wearied with having so long witnessed
the selfish workings of human passions. The colour of his skin differed from
that of most around him, being richer and darker; the latter hue having been
produced by certain delicate and mazy lines of complicated and yet beautiful
figures, which had been traced over most of his person by the operation of
tattooing. Notwithstanding the position of the Huron, he passed the observant
and silent Magua without notice, and leaning on his two venerable supporters,
proceeded to the high place of the multitude, where he seated himself in the
centre of his nation, with the dignity of a monarch, and the air of a father.
Nothing could surpass
the reverence and affection with which this unexpected visit, from one who
belonged rather to another world than to this, was received by his people.
After a suitable and decent pause, the principal chiefs arose, and approaching
the patriarch, they placed his hands reverently on their heads, seeming to
intreat a blessing. The younger men were content with touching his robe, or
even with drawing nigh his person, in order to breathe in the atmosphere of one
so aged, so just, and so valiant. None but the most distinguished among the
youthful warriors even presumed so far as to perform the latter ceremony; the
great mass of the multitude deeming it a sufficient happiness to look upon a
form so deeply venerated, and so well beloved. When these acts of affection and
respect were performed, the chiefs drew back again to their several places, and
a deep and breathing silence reigned in the whole encampment.
After a short delay, a
few of the young men, to whom instructions had been whispered by one of the
aged attendants of Tamenund, arose, left the crowd, and entered the lodge which
has already been noted as the object of so much attention, throughout that
morning. In a few minutes they re-appeared, escorting the individuals who had
caused all these solemn preparations, towards the seat of judgment. The crowd
opened in a lane, and when the party had re-entered, it closed in again,
forming a large and dense belt of human bodies, arranged in an open circle.
“The assembly seated,
rising o’er the rest,
Achilles thus the king
of men address’d.”
Pope’s Homer.
Cora stood foremost
among the prisoners, entwining her arms in those of Alice, in the fondest
tenderness of sisterly love. Notwithstanding the fearful and menacing array of
savages on every side of her, no apprehension on her own account could prevent
the noble-minded maiden from keeping her eyes fastened on the pale and anxious
features of the trembling Alice. Close at their side stood Heyward, with an
interest in both, that, at such a moment of intense uncertainty, scarcely knew
a preponderance in favour of her whom he most loved. Hawk-eye had placed
himself a little in the rear, with a deference to the superior rank of his
companions, that no similarity in the state of their present fortunes could
induce him to forget. Uncas was not among them.
When perfect silence
was again restored, and after the usual, long, impressive pause, one of the two
aged chiefs, who sate at the side of the patriarch, arose, and demanded aloud,
in very intelligible English--
“Which of my prisoners
is la Longue Carabine?”
Neither Duncan nor the
scout made any answer. The former, however, glanced his eyes around the dark
and silent assembly, and recoiled a pace, when they fell on the malignant
visage of Magua. He saw, at once, that this wily savage had some secret agency
in their present arraignment before the nation, and determined to throw every
possible impediment in the way of the execution of his sinister plans. He had
witnessed one instance of the summary punishments of the Indians, and now
dreaded that his companion was to be selected for a second. In this dilemma,
with little or no time for reflection, he suddenly determined to cloak his
invaluable friend, at any or every hazard to himself. Before he had time,
however, to speak, the question was repeated in a louder voice, and with a
clearer utterance.
“Give us arms,” the
young man haughtily replied, “and place us in yonder woods. Our deeds shall
speak for us!”
“This is the warrior
whose name has filled our ears!” returned the chief, regarding Heyward with
that sort of curious interest, which seems inseparable from man, when first
beholding one of his fellows, to whom merit or accident, virtue or crime, has
given notoriety. “What has brought the white man into the camp of the
Delawares?”
“My necessities. I come
for food, shelter, and friends.”
“It cannot be. The
woods are full of game. The head of a warrior needs no other shelter than a sky
without clouds, and the Delawares are the enemies, and not the friends, of the
Yengeese. Go-- your mouth has spoken, while your heart has said nothing.”
Duncan, a little at a
loss in what manner to proceed, remained silent; but the scout, who had
listened attentively to all that passed, now advanced boldly to the front, and
assumed the task of explaining.
“That I did not answer
to the call for la Longue Carabine, was not owing either to shame or fear,” he
said; “for neither one nor the other is the gift of an honest man. But I do not
admit the right of the Mingoes to bestow a name on one, whose friends have been
mindful of his gifts, in this particular; especially, as their title is all a
lie; ‘kill-deer’ being a genuine grooved barrel, and no carabyne. I am the man,
however, that got the name of Nathaniel from my kin; the compliment of Hawk-eye
from the Delawares, who live on their own river; and whom the Iroquois have
presumed to style the ‘long rifle,’ without any warranty from him who is most
concerned in the matter.”
The eyes of all
present, which had hitherto been gravely scanning the person of Duncan, were
now turned, on the instant, towards the upright, iron frame of this new
pretender to so distinguished an appellation. It was in no degree remarkable,
that there should be found two who were willing to claim so great an honour,
for impostors, though rare, were not unknown amongst the natives; but it was
altogether material to the just and severe intentions of the Delawares, that
there should be no mistake in the matter. Some of their old men consulted
together, in private, and then, as it would seem, they determined to interrogate
their visiter on the subject.
“My brother has said
that a snake crept into my camp,” said the chief to Magua; “which is he?”
The Huron pointed to
the scout, but continued silent.
“Will a wise Delaware
believe the barking of a wolf!” exclaimed Duncan, still more confirmed in the
evil intentions of his ancient enemy; “a dog never lies, but when was a wolf
known to speak the truth!”
The eyes of Magua
flashed fire; but suddenly recollecting the necessity of maintaining his
presence of mind, he turned away in silent disdain, well assured that the
sagacity of the Indians would not fail to extract the real merits of the point
in controversy. He was not deceived; for, after another short consultation, the
wary Delaware turned to him again, and expressed the determination of the
chiefs, though in the most considerate language.
“My brother has been
called a liar,” he said; “and his friends are angry. They will show that he has
spoken the truth. Give my prisoners guns, and let them prove which is the man.”
Magua affected to
consider the expedient, which he well knew proceeded from distrust of himself,
as a compliment, and made a gesture of acquiescence, well content that his
veracity should be supported by so skilful a marksman as the scout. The weapons
were instantly placed in the hands of the friendly opponents, and they were bid
to fire, over the heads of the seated multitude, at an earthen vessel, which
lay, by accident, on a stump, some fifty yards from the place where they stood.
Heyward smiled to himself,
at the idea of such a competition with the scout, though he determined to
persevere in the deception, until apprised of the designs of Magua. Raising his
rifle, then, with the utmost care, and renewing his aim three several times, he
fired. The bullet cut the wood within a few inches of the vessel, and a general
exclamation of satisfaction announced that the shot was considered a singular
proof of great skill in the use of the weapon. Even Hawk-eye nodded his head,
as if he would say, it was better than he had expected. But, instead of
manifesting an intention to contend with the successful marksman, he stood
leaning on his rifle for more than a minute, like a man who was completely
buried in deep thought. From this reverie he was, however, speedily awakened,
by one of the young Indians who had furnished the arms, and who now touched his
shoulder, saying, in exceedingly broken English--
“Can the pale-face beat
it?”
“Yes, Huron!” exclaimed
the scout, raising the short rifle in his right hand, and shaking it at Magua,
with as much apparent ease as though it were a reed; “yes, Huron, I could
strike you now, and no power of ’arth could prevent the deed! The soaring hawk
is not more certain of the dove, than I am this moment of you, did I choose to
send a bullet to your heart! Why should I not! Why!--because the gifts of my
colour forbid it, and I might draw down evil on tender and innocent heads! If
you know such a being as God, thank him, therefore, in your inward soul--for
you have reason!”
The flushed
countenance, angry eye, and swelling figure of the scout, produced a sensation
of secret awe in all that heard him. The Delawares held their breath in intense
expectation; but Magua himself, even while he distrusted the forbearance of his
enemy, remained as immovable and calm, where he stood, wedged in by the crowd,
as though he grew to the fatal spot.
“Beat it,” repeated the
young Delaware at the elbow of the scout.
“Beat what;
fool!--what!”--exclaimed Hawk-eye, still flourishing the weapon angrily above
his head, though his eye no longer sought the person of Magua.
“If the white man is
the warrior he pretends,” said the aged chief, “let him strike nigher to the
mark.”
The scout laughed
tauntingly, and aloud--a noise that produced the startling effect of unnatural
sounds on Heyward--and then dropping the piece, heavily, into his extended left
hand, it was discharged, apparently by the shock, driving the fragments of the
vessel high into the air, and scattering them on every side of the stump.
Almost at the same instant, the heavy rattling sound of the rifle was heard, as
he suffered it to fall, contemptuously, to the earth.
The first impression of
so strange a scene was deep and engrossing admiration. Then a low, but
increasing murmur, ran through the multitude, and finally swelled into sounds,
that denoted lively opposition in the sentiments of the spectators. While some
openly testified their satisfaction at such unexampled dexterity, by far the
larger portion of the tribe were inclined to believe the success of the shot
was the result of accident. Heyward was not slow to confirm an opinion that was
so favourable to his own pretensions.
“It was all a chance!”
he exclaimed; “none can shoot without an aim!”
“Chance!” echoed the
excited woodsman, who was now stubbornly bent on maintaining his identity, at
every hazard, and on whom the secret hints of Heyward to acquiesce in the
deception were entirely lost. “Does yonder lying Huron, too, think it chance?
Give him another gun, and place us face to face, without cover or dodge, and
let Providence, and our own eyes, decide the matter atween us! I do not make
the offer to you, major; for our blood is of a colour, and we serve the same
master.”
“That the Huron is a
liar, is very evident,” returned Heyward, coolly; “you have, yourself, heard
him assert you to be la Longue Carabine.”
It were impossible to
say what violent assertion the stubborn Hawk-eye would have next made, in his
headlong wish to vindicate his identity, had not the aged Delaware once more
interposed.
“The hawk which comes
from the clouds, can return when he will,” he said; “give them the guns.”
This time the scout
seized the rifle with avidity; nor had Magua, though he watched the movement of
the marksman with jealous eyes, any further cause for apprehension.
“Now let it be proved,
in the face of this tribe of Delawares, who is the better man,” cried the
scout, tapping the butt of his piece with that finger which had pulled so many
fatal triggers. “You see the gourd hanging against yonder tree, major; if you
are a marksman, fit for the borders, let me find that you can break its shell!”
Duncan noted the
object, and prepared himself to renew the trial. The gourd was one of the usual
little vessels used by the Indians, and was suspended from a dead branch of a
small pine, by a thong of deer-skin, at the full distance of a hundred yards.
So strangely compounded is the feeling of self-love, that the young soldier,
while he knew the utter worthlessness of the suffrages of his savage umpires,
forgot the sudden motives of the contest, in a wish to excel. It has been seen,
already, that his skill was far from being contemptible, and he now resolved to
put forth its nicest qualities. Had his life depended on the issue, the aim of
Duncan could not have been more deliberate and guarded. He fired; and three or
four young Indians, who sprang forward at the report, announced with a shout,
that the ball was in the tree, a very little on one side of the proper object.
The warriors uttered a common ejaculation of pleasure, and then turned their
eyes, inquiringly, on the movements of his rival.
“It may do for the
Royal Americans!” said Hawk-eye, laughing once more in his own silent, heartfelt,
manner; “but had my gun often turned so much from the true line, many a martin,
whose skin is in a lady’s muff, would now be in the woods; ay, and many a
bloody Mingo, who has departed to his final account, would be acting his
deviltries at this very day, atween the provinces. I hope the squaw who owns
the gourd, has more of them in her wigwam, for this will never hold water
again!”
The scout had shook his
priming, and cocked his piece, while speaking; and, as he ended, he threw back
a foot, and slowly raised the muzzle from the earth. The motion was steady,
uniform, and in one direction. When on a perfect level, it remained for a
single moment without tremor or variation, as though both man and rifle were
carved in stone. During that stationary instant, it poured forth its contents,
in a bright, glancing, sheet of flame. Again the young Indians bounded forward,
but their hurried search and disappointed looks announced, that no traces of
the bullet were to be seen.
“Go,” said the old
chief to the scout, in a tone of strong disgust; “thou art a wolf in the skin
of a dog. I will talk to the ‘long rifle’ of the Yengeese.”
“Ah! had I that piece
which furnished the name you use, I would obligate myself to cut the thong, and
drop the gourd, instead of breaking it!” returned Hawk-eye, perfectly
undisturbed by the other’s manner. “Fools, if you would find the bullet of a
sharp-shooter of these woods, you must look in the object, and not around it?”
The Indian youths
instantly comprehended his meaning--for this time he spoke in the Delaware
tongue--and tearing the gourd from the tree, they held it on high, with an
exulting shout, displaying a hole in its bottom, which had been cut by the
bullet, after passing through the usual orifice in the centre of its upper
side. At this unexpected exhibition, a loud and vehement expression of pleasure
burst from the mouth of every warrior present. It decided the question, and
effectually established Hawk-eye in the possession of his dangerous reputation.
Those curious and admiring eyes which had been turned again on Heyward, were
finally directed to the weather-beaten form of the scout, who immediately
became the principal object of attention, to the simple and unsophisticated
beings, by whom he was surrounded. When the sudden and noisy commotion had a
little subsided, the aged chief resumed his examination.
“Why did you wish to
stop my ears?” he said, addressing Duncan; “are the Delawares fools, that they
could not know the young panther from the cat?”
“They will yet find the
Huron a singing-bird,” said Duncan, endeavouring to adopt the figurative
language of the natives.
“It is good. We will
know who can shut the ears of men. Brother,” added the chief, turning his eyes
on Magua, “the Delawares listen.”
Thus singled, and
directly called on, to declare his object, the Huron arose, and advancing with
great deliberation and dignity, into the very centre of the circle, where he
stood confronted to the prisoners, he placed himself in an attitude to speak.
Before opening his mouth, however, he bent his eyes slowly along the whole
living boundary of earnest faces, as if to temper his expressions to the
capacities of his audience. On Hawk-eye he cast a glance of respectful enmity;
on Duncan, a look of inextinguishable hatred; the shrinking figure of Alice, he
scarcely deigned to notice; but when his glance met the firm, commanding, and
yet lovely form of Cora, his eye lingered a moment, with an expression, that it
might have been difficult to define. Then, filled with his own dark intentions,
he spoke in the language of the Canadas, a tongue that he well knew was
comprehended by most of his auditors.
“The Spirit that made
men, coloured them differently,” commenced the subtle Huron. “Some are blacker
than the sluggish bear. These he said should be slaves; and he ordered them to
work for ever, like the beaver. You may hear them groan, when the south wind
blows, louder than the lowing buffaloes, along the shores of the great salt
water, where the big canoes come and go with them in droves. Some he made with
faces paler than the ermine of the forests: and these he ordered to be traders;
dogs to their women, and wolves to their slaves. He gave this people the nature
of the pigeon; wings that never tire; young, more plentiful than the leaves on
the trees, and appetites to devour the earth. He gave them tongues like the
false call of the wild-cat; hearts like rabbits; the cunning of the hog, (but
none of the fox,) and arms longer than the legs of the moose. With his tongue,
he stops the ears of the Indians; his heart teaches him to pay warriors to
fight his battles; his cunning tells him how to get together the goods of the
earth; and his arms enclose the land from the shores of the salt water, to the
islands of the great lake. His gluttony makes him sick. God gave him enough,
and yet he wants all. Such are the pale-faces.
“Some the Great Spirit
made with skins brighter and redder than yonder sun,” continued Magua, pointing
impressively upward to the lurid luminary, which was struggling through the
misty atmosphere of the horizon; “and these did he fashion to his own mind. He
gave them this island as he had made it, covered with trees, and filled with
game. The wind made their clearings; the sun and rains ripened their fruits;
and the snows came to tell them to be thankful. What need had they of roads to
journey by! They saw through the hills! When the beavers worked, they lay in
the shade, and looked on. The winds cooled them in summer; in winter, skins
kept them warm. If they fought among themselves, it was to prove that they were
men. They were brave; they were just; they were happy.”
Here the speaker
paused, and again looked around him, to discover if his legend had touched the
sympathies of his listeners. He met every where with eyes riveted on his own,
heads erect, and nostrils expanded, as though each individual present felt
himself able and willing, singly, to redress the wrongs of his race.
“If the Great Spirit
gave different tongues to his red children,” he continued, in a low, still,
melancholy voice, “it was, that all animals might understand them. Some he
placed among the snows, with their cousin the bear. Some he placed near the
setting sun, on the road to the happy hunting grounds. Some on the lands around
the great fresh waters; but to his greatest, and most beloved, he gave the
sands of the salt lake. Do my brothers know the name of this favoured people?”
“It was the Lenape!”
exclaimed twenty eager voices, in a breath.
“It was the Lenni
Lenape,” returned Magua, affecting to bend his head in reverence to their
former greatness. “It was the tribes of the Lenape! The sun rose from the water
that was salt, and set in water that was sweet, and never hid himself from
their eyes. But why should I, a Huron of the woods, tell a wise people their
own traditions? Why remind them of their injuries; their ancient greatness;
their deeds; their glory; their happiness--their losses; their defeats; their
misery? Is there not one among them who has seen it all, and who knows it to be
true? I have done. My tongue is still, but my ears are open.”
As the voice of the
speaker suddenly ceased, every face and all eyes turned, by a common movement,
towards the venerable Tamenund. From the moment that he took his seat, until
the present instant, the lips of the patriarch had not severed, nor had
scarcely a sign of life escaped him. He had sate, bent in feebleness, and
apparently unconscious of the presence he was in, during the whole of that
opening scene, in which the skill of the scout had been so clearly established.
At the nicely graduated sounds of Magua’s voice, however, he had betrayed some
evidence of consciousness, and once or twice he had even raised his head, as if
to listen. But when the crafty Huron spoke of his nation by name, the eyelids
of the old man raised themselves, and he looked out upon the multitude, with
that sort of dull, unmeaning expression, which might be supposed to belong to
the countenance of a spectre. Then he made an effort to rise, and being upheld
by his supporters, he gained his feet, in a posture commanding by its dignity,
while he tottered with weakness.
“Who calls upon the
children of the Lenape!” he said, in a deep, guttural voice, that was rendered
awfully audible by the breathless silence of the multitude; “who speaks of
things gone! Does not the egg become a worm--the worm a fly--and perish! Why
tell the Delawares of good that is past? Better thank the Manitto for that
which remains.”
“It is a Wyandot,” said
Magua, stepping nigher to the rude platform on which the other stood; “a friend
of Tamenund.”
“A friend!” repeated
the sage, on whose brow a dark frown settled, imparting a portion of that
severity, which had rendered his eye so terrible in middle age--“Are the
Mingoes rulers of the earth! What brings a Huron here?”
“Justice. His prisoners
are with his brothers, and he comes for his own.”
Tamenund turned his
head towards one of his supporters, and listened to the short explanation the
man gave. Then facing the applicant, he regarded him a moment with deep attention;
after which, he said, in a low and reluctant voice--
“Justice is the law of
the Great Manitto. My children, give the stranger food. Then, Huron, take thine
own, and depart.”
On the delivery of this
solemn judgment, the patriarch seated himself, and closed his eyes again, as if
better pleased with the images of his own ripened experience, than with the
visible objects of the world. Against such a decree, there was no Delaware
sufficiently hardy to murmur, much less oppose himself. The words were barely
uttered, when four or five of the younger warriors stepping behind Heyward and
the scout, passed thongs so dexterously and rapidly around their arms, as to
hold them both in instant bondage. The former was too much engrossed with his
precious and nearly insensible burthen, to be aware of their intentions before
they were executed; and the latter, who considered even the hostile tribes of
the Delawares a superior race of beings, submitted without resistance. Perhaps,
however, the manner of the scout would not have been so passive, had he fully
comprehended the language in which the preceding dialogue had been conducted.
Magua cast a look of
triumph around the whole assembly, before he proceeded to the execution of his
purpose. Perceiving that the men were unable to offer any resistance, he turned
his looks on her he valued most. Cora met his gaze with an eye so calm and
firm, that his resolution wavered. Then recollecting his former artifice, he
raised Alice from the arms of the warrior, against whom she leaned, and
beckoning Heyward to follow, he motioned for the encircling crowd to open. But
Cora, instead of obeying the impulse he had expected, rushed to the feet of the
patriarch, and raising her voice, exclaimed aloud--
“Just and venerable
Delaware, on thy wisdom and power, we lean for mercy! Be deaf to younder artful
and remorseless monster, who poisons thy ears with falsehoods, to feed his thirst
for blood. Thou, that hast lived long, and that hast seen the evil of the
world, should know how to temper its calamities to the miserable.”
The eyes of the old man
opened heavily, and he once more looked upward at the multitude. As the full,
piercing tones of the supplicant swelled on his ears, they moved slowly in the
direction of her person, and finally settled there, in a steady, riveted gaze.
Cora had cast herself to her knees, and with hands clenched in each other, and
pressed upon her bosom, she remained like a beauteous and breathing model of
her sex, looking up in his faded, but majestic countenance, with a species of
holy reverence. Gradually, the expression of Tamenund’s features changed, and
losing their vacancy in admiration, they lighted with a portion of that
intelligence, which, a century before, had been wont to communicate his
youthful fire to the extensive bands of the Delawares. Rising, without
assistance, and, seemingly, without an effort, he demanded, in a voice that
startled its auditors by its firmness--
“What art thou?”
“A woman. One of a
hated race, if thou wilt-- a Yengee. But one who has never harmed thee, and who
cannot harm thy people, if she would; who asks for succour.”
“Tell me, my children,”
continued the patriarch, hoarsely, motioning to those around him, though his
eyes still dwelt upon the kneeling form of Cora, “where have the Delawares ’camped?”
“In the mountains of
the Iroquois; beyond the clear springs of the Horican.”
“Many parching summers
are come and gone,” continued the sage, “since I drank of the waters of my own
river. The children of Miquon are the justest white men; but they were thirsty,
and they took it to themselves. Do they follow us so far?
“We follow none; we
covet nothing;” answered the ardent Cora. “Captives, against our wills, have we
been brought amongst you; and we ask but permission to depart to our own, in
peace. Art thou not Tamenund--the father--the judge--I had almost said, the
prophet--of this people?”
“I am Tamenund, of many
days.”
“’Tis now some seven
years that one of thy people was at the mercy of a white chief, on the borders
of this province. He claimed to be of the blood of the good and just Tamenund. ‘Go,’
said the white man, ‘for thy parent’s sake, thou art free.’ Dost thou remember
the name of that English warrior?”
“I remember, that when
a laughing boy,” returned the patriarch, with the peculiar recollection of vast
age, “I stood upon the sands of the sea-shore, and saw a big canoe, with wings
whiter than the swan’s, and wider than many eagles, come from the rising sun--”
“Nay, nay; I speak not
of a time so very distant; but of favour shown to thy kindred by one of mine,
within the memory of thy youngest warrior.”
“Was it when the
Yengeese and the Dutchemanne fought for the hunting grounds of the Delawares?
Then Tamenund was a chief, and first laid aside the bow for the lightning of
the pale-faces--”
“Nor yet then,”
interrupted Cora again, “by many ages; I speak of a thing of yesterday. Surely,
surely, you forget it not!”
“It was but yesterday,”
rejoined the aged man, with a touching pathos in his hollow voice, “that the
children of the Lenape were masters of the world! The fishes of the salt-lake,
the birds, the beasts, and the Mengwe of the woods, owned them for Sagamores.”
Cora bowed her head in
the anguish of disappointment, and, for a bitter moment, struggled with her
chagrin. Then elevating her rich features and beaming eyes, she continued, in
tones scarcely less penetrating than the unearthly voice of the patriarch
himself,
“Tell me, is Tamenund a
father?”
The old man looked down
upon her, from his elevated stand, with a benignant smile on his wasted
countenance, and then casting his eyes slowly over the whole assemblage, he
answered--
“Of a nation.”
“For myself I ask
nothing. Like thee and thine, venerable chief,” she continued, pressing her
hands convulsively on her heart, and suffering her head to droop, until her
burning cheeks were nearly concealed in the maze of dark, glossy tresses, that
fell in disorder upon her shoulders, “the curse of my ancestors has fallen
heavily on their child! But yonder is one, who has never known the weight of
Heaven’s displeasure until now. She is the daughter of an old and failing man,
whose days are near their close. She has many, very many, to love her, and
delight in her; and she is too good, much too precious, to become the victim of
that villain.”
“I know that the
pale-faces are a proud and hungry race. I know that they claim, not only to
have the earth, but that the meanest of their colour is better than the Sachems
of the red man. The dogs and crows of their tribes,” continued the earnest old
chieftain, without heeding the wounded spirit of his listener, whose head was
nearly crushed to the earth, in shame, as he proceeded, “would bark and caw,
before they would take a woman to their wigwams, whose blood was not of the
colour of snow. But let them not boast before the face of the Manitto too loud.
They entered the land at the rising, and may yet go off at the setting sun! I
have often seen the locusts strip the leaves from the trees, but the season of
blossoms has always come again!”
“It is so,” said Cora,
drawing a long breath, as if reviving from a trance, raising her face, and
shaking back her shining veil, with a kindling eye, that contradicted the
death-like paleness of her countenance; “but why--it is not permitted us to
inquire! There is yet one of thine own people, who has not been brought before
thee; before thou lettest the Huron depart in triumph, hear him speak.”
Observing Tamenund to
look about him doubtingly, one of his companions said--
“It is a snake--a
red-skin in the pay of the Yengeese. We keep him for the torture.”
“Let him come,”
returned the sage.
Then Tamenund once more
sunk into his seat, and a silence so deep prevailed, while the young men
prepared to obey his simple mandate, that the leaves, which fluttered in the
draught of the light morning air, were distinctly heard rustling in the
surrounding forest.
“If you deny me, fie
upon your law!
There is no force in
the decrees of Venice:
I stand for judgment:
answer; shall I have it?
Shakspeare
The silence continued
unbroken by human sounds for many anxious minutes. Then the waving multitude
opened, and shut again, and Uncas stood environed by the living circle. All
those eyes, which had been curiously studying the lineaments of the sage, as
the source of their own intelligence, turned, on the instant, and were now bent
in secret admiration on the erect, agile, and faultless person of the captive.
But neither the presence in which he found himself, nor the exclusive attention
that he attracted, in any manner disturbed the self-possession of the young
Mohican. He cast a deliberate and observing look on every side of him, meeting
the settled expression of hostility, that lowered in the visages of the chiefs,
with the same calmness as the curious gaze of the attentive children. But when,
last in his keen and haughty scrutiny, the person of Tamenund came under his
glance, his eye became as fixed, as though all other objects were already
forgotten. Then advancing with a slow and noiseless step, up the area, he
placed himself immediately before the footstool of the sage. Here he stood
unnoted, though keenly observant himself, until one of the chiefs apprised the
latter of his presence.
“With what tongue does
the prisoner speak to the Manitto?” demanded the patriarch, without unclosing
his eyes.
“Like his fathers,”
Uncas replied; “with the tongue of a Delaware.”
At this sudden and
unexpected annunciation, a low, fierce yell, ran through the multitude, that
might not inaptly be compared to the growl of the lion, as his choler is first
awakened--a fearful omen of the weight of his future anger. The effect was
equally strong on the sage, though differently exhibited. He passed a hand
before his eyes, as if to exclude the least evidence of so shameful a
spectacle, while he repeated, in his low and deeply guttural tones, the words
he had just heard.
“A Delaware! I have lived
to see the tribes of the Lenape driven from their council fires, and scattered,
like broken herds of deer, among the hills of the Iroquois! I have seen the
hatchets of a strange people sweep woods from the valleys, that the winds of
Heaven had spared! The beasts that run on the mountains, and the birds that fly
above the trees, have I seen living in the wigwams of men; but never before
have I found a Delaware so base, as to creep, like a poisonous serpent, into
the camps of his nation.”
“The singing-birds have
opened their bills,” returned Uncas, in the softest notes of his own musical
voice; “and Tamenund has heard their song.”
The sage started, and
bent his head aside, as if to catch the fleeting sounds of some passing melody.
“Does Tamenund dream!”
he exclaimed. “What voice is at his ear! Have the winters gone backward! Will
summer come again to the children of the Lenape!”
A solemn and respectful
silence succeeded this incoherent burst from the lips of the Delaware prophet.
His people readily construed his unintelligible language into one of those
mysterious conferences, he was believed to hold so frequently, with a superior
intelligence, and they awaited the issue of the revelation in secret awe. After
a long and patient pause, however, one of the aged men perceiving that the sage
had lost the recollection of the subject before them, ventured to remind him
again of the presence of the prisoner.
“The false Delaware
trembles lest he should hear the words of Tamenund,” he said. “’Tis a hound
that howls, when the Yengeese show him a trail.”
“And ye,” returned
Uncas, looking sternly around him, “are dogs that whine when the Frenchman
casts ye the offals of his deer!”
Twenty knives gleamed
in the air, and as many warriors sprang to their feet, at this biting, and
perhaps merited, retort; but a motion from one of the chiefs suppressed the
outbreaking of their tempers, and restored the appearance of quiet. The task
might possibly have been more difficult, had not a movement, made by Tamenund,
indicated that he was again about to speak.
“Delaware,” resumed the
sage, “little art thou worthy of thy name. My people have not seen a bright sun
in many winters; and the warrior who deserts his tribe, when hid in clouds, is
doubly a traitor. The law of the Manitto is just. It is so; while the rivers
run and the mountains stand, while the blossoms come and go on the trees, it
must be so. He is thine, my children; deal justly by him.”
Not a limb was moved,
nor was a breath drawn louder and longer than common, until the closing
syllable of this final decree had passed the lips of Tamenund. Then a cry of
vengeance burst at once, as it might be, from the united lips of the nation; a
frightful augury of their fierce and ruthless intentions. In the midst of these
prolonged and savage yells, a chief proclaimed, in a high voice, that the
captive was condemned to endure the dreadful trial of torture by fire. The
circle broke its order, and screams of delight mingled with the bustle and
tumult of instant preparation. Heyward struggled madly with his captors; the
anxious eyes of Hawk-eye began to look around him, with an expression of
peculiar earnestness; and Cora again threw herself at the feet of the
patriarch, once more a supplicant for mercy.
Throughout the whole of
these trying moments, Uncas had alone preserved his serenity. He looked on the
preparations with a steady eye, and when the tormentors came to seize him, he
met them with a firm and upright attitude. One among them, if possible, more
fierce and savage than his fellows, seized the hunting shirt of the young
warrior, and at a single effort, tore it from his body. Then, with a yell of
frantic pleasure, he leaped toward his unresisting victim, and prepared to lead
him to the stake. But, at that moment, when he appeared most a stranger to the
feelings of humanity, the purpose of the savage was arrested as suddenly, as if
a supernatural agency had interposed in the behalf of Uncas. The eye-balls of
the Delaware seemed to start from their sockets; his mouth opened, and his
whole form became frozen in an attitude of amazement. Raising his hand with a
slow and regulated motion, he pointed with a finger to the bosom of the
captive. His companions crowded about him, in wonder, and every eye was, like
his own, fastened intently on the figure of a small tortoise, beautifully
tattooed on the breast of the prisoner, in a bright blue tint.
For a single instant,
Uncas enjoyed his triumph, smiling calmly on the scene. Then motioning the
crowd away, with a high and haughty sweep of his arm, he advanced in front of
the nation with the air of a king, and spoke in a voice louder than the murmur
of admiration that ran through the multitude.
“Men of the Lenni
Lenape!” he said, “my race upholds the earth! Your feeble tribe stands on my shell!
What fire, that a Delaware can light, would burn the child of my fathers,” he
added, pointing proudly to the simple blazonry on his skin; “the blood that
came from such a stock, would smother your flames! My race is the grandfather
of nations!”
“Who art thou!”
demanded Tamenund, rising, at the startling tones he heard, more than at any
meaning conveyed by the language of the prisoner.
“Uncas, the son of
Chingachgook,” answered the captive, modestly, turning from the nation, and
bending his head in reverence to the other’s character and years; “a son of the
Great Unâmis.” *
“The hour of Tamenund
is nigh!” exclaimed the sage; “the day is come, at last, to the night! I thank
the Manitto, that one is here to fill my place at the council-fire. Uncas, the
child of Uncas, is found! Let the eyes of a dying eagle gaze on the rising sun.”
The youth stepped
lightly, but proudly, on the platform, where he became visible to the whole agitated
and wondering multitude. Tamenund held him long at the length of his arm, and
read every turn in the fine and lofty lineaments of his countenance, with the
untiring gaze of one who recalled the days of his own happiness by the
examination.
“Is Tamenund a boy!” at
length the bewildered prophet exclaimed. “Have I dreamt of so many snows--that
my people were scattered like floating sands--of Yengeese, more plenty than the
leaves on the trees! The arrow of Tamenund would not frighten the young fawn;
his arm is withered like the branch of the dying oak; the snail would be
swifter in the race; yet is Uncas before him, as they went to battle, against
the pale-faces! Uncas, the panther of his tribe, the eldest son of the Lenape,
the wisest Sagamore of the Mohicans! Tell me, ye Delawares, has Tamenund been a
sleeper for a hundred winters?”
The calm and deep
silence which succeeded these words, sufficiently announced the awful reverence
with which his people received the communication of the patriarch. None dared
to answer, though all listened in breathless expectation of what might follow.
Uncas, however, looking in his face, with the fondness and veneration of a
favoured child, presumed on his own high and acknowledged rank, to reply.
“Four warriors of his race
have lived and died,” he said, “since the friend of Tamenund led his people in
battle. The blood of the Turtle has been in many chiefs, but all have gone back
into the earth, from whence they came, except Chingachgook and his son.”
“It is true--it is
true,” returned the sage--a flash of recollection destroying all his pleasing
fancies, and restoring him, at once, to a consciousness of the true history of
his nation. “Our wise men have often said that two warriors of the ‘unchanged’
race were in the hills of the Yengeese; why have their seats at the council
fires of the Delawares been so long empty?”
At these words, the
young man raised his head, which he had still kept bowed a little, in
reverence, and lifting his voice, so as to be heard by the multitude, as if to
explain, at once, and for ever, the policy of his family, he said, aloud--
“Once we slept where we
could hear the salt lake speak in its anger. Then we were rulers and Sagamores
over the land. But when a pale-face was seen on every brook, we followed the
deer back to the river of our nation. The Delawares were gone! Few warriors of
them all stayed to drink of the stream they loved. Then said my fathers-- ‘here
will we hunt. The waters of the river go into the salt lake. If we go towards
the setting sun, we shall find streams that run into the great lakes of the
sweet water; there would a Mohican die, like fishes of the sea, in the clear
springs. When the Manitto is ready, and shall say, ‘come,’ we will follow the
river to the sea, and take our own again.’ Such, Delawares, is the belief of
the children of the Turtle! Our eyes are on the rising, and not towards the
setting sun! We know whence he comes, but we know not whither he goes. It is
enough.”
The men of the Lenape
listened to his words with all the respect that superstition could lend,
finding a secret charm even in the figurative language with which the young
Sagamore imparted his ideas. Uncas himself watched the effect of his brief
explanation with intelligent eyes, and gradually dropped the air of authority
he had assumed, as he perceived that his auditors were content. Then permitting
his looks to wander over the silent throng that crowded around the elevated
seat of Tamenund, he first perceived Hawk-eye, in his bonds. Stepping eagerly
from his stand, he made a way for himself to the side of his friend, and
cutting his thongs with a quick and angry stroke of his own knife, he motioned
to the crowd to divide. The grave and attentive Indians silently obeyed, and
once more they stood ranged in their circle, as before his appearance among
them. Uncas then took the scout by the hand, and led him to the feet of the
patriarch.
“Father,” he said, “look
at this pale-face; a just man, and the friend of the Delawares.”
“Is he a son of Miquon?”*
“Not so; a warrior
known to the Yengeese, and feared by the Maquas.”
“What name has he
gained by his deeds?”
“We call him Hawk-eye,”
Uncas replied, using the Delaware phrase; “for his sight never fails. The
Mingoes know him better by the death he gives their warriors; with them he is
the ‘long rifle.’ ”
“La Longue Carabine!”
exclaimed Tamenund, opening his eyes, and regarding the scout, sternly. “My son
has not done well to call him friend!”
“I call him so who
proves himself such,” returned the young chief, with great calmness, but with a
steady mien. “If Uncas is welcome among the Delawares, then is Hawk-eye with
his friends.”
“The pale-face has
slain my young men; his name is great for the blows he has struck the Lenape.”
“If a Mingo has
whispered that much in the ear of the Delaware, he has only manifested that he
is a singing-bird,” said the scout, who now believed it was time to vindicate
himself from such offensive charges, and who spoke in the tongue of the man he
addressed, modifying his Indian figures, however, with his own peculiar
notions. “That I have slain the Maquas, I am not the man to deny, even at their
own council fires; but that, knowingly, my hand has ever harmed a Delaware, is
opposed to the reason of my gifts which is friendly to them, and all that
belongs to their nation.”
A low exclamation of
applause passed among the warriors, who exchanged looks with each other, like
men that first began to perceive their error.
“Where is the Huron?”
demanded Tamenund. “Has he stopped my ears!”
Magua, whose feelings,
during that scene in which Uncas had triumphed, may be much better imagined
than described, now answered to the call, by stepping boldly in front of the
patriarch.
“The just Tamenund,” he
said, “will not keep what a Huron has lent.”
“Tell me, son of my
brother,” returned the sage, avoiding the dark countenance of le Subtil, and
turning gladly to the more ingenuous features of Uncas; “has the stranger a
conqueror’s right over you?”
“He has none. The
panther may get into snares set by the women, but he is strong, and knows how
to leap through them.”
“La Longue Carabine?”
“Laughs at the Mingoes.
Go, Huron; ask your squaws the colour of a bear!”
“The stranger and the
white maiden that came into my camp together?”
“Should journey on an
open path.”
“And the woman that the
Huron left with my warriors?”
Uncas made no reply.
“And the woman that the
Mingo has brought into my camp?” repeated Tamenund, gravely.
“She is mine!” cried
Magua, shaking his hand in triumph at Uncas. “Mohican, you know that she is
mine.”
“My son is silent,”
said Tamenund, endeavouring to read the expression of the face that the youth
turned from him, in sorrow.
“It is so,” was the low
and brief reply.
A short and impressive
pause succeeded, during which it was very apparent with what reluctance the
multitude admitted the justice of the Mingo’s claim. At length the sage, on
whom alone the decision depended, said, in a firm voice--
“Huron, depart.”
“As he came, just
Tamenund,” demanded the wily Magua; “or with hands filled with the faith of the
Delawares? The wigwam of le Renard Subtil is empty. Make him strong with his
own.”
The aged man mused with
himself for a time, and then bending his head towards one of his venerable
companions, he asked--
“Are my ears open?”
“It is true.”
“Is this Mingo a chief?”
“The first in his
nation.”
“Girl, what wouldst
thou! A great warrior takes thee to wife. Go--thy race will not end.”
“Better, a thousand
times, it should,” exclaimed the horror-struck Cora, “than meet with such a
degradation!”
“Huron, her mind is in
the tents of her fathers. An unwilling maiden makes an unhappy wigwam.”
“She speaks with the
tongue of her people,” returned Magua, regarding his victim with a look of
bitter irony. “She is of a race of traders, and will bargain for a bright look.
Let Tamenund speak the words?”
“Take you the wampum,
and our love.”
“Nothing hence, but
what Magua brought hither.”
“Then depart with thine
own. The Great Manitto forbids that a Delaware should be unjust.”
Magua advanced, and
seized his captive strongly by the arm; the Delawares fell back, in silence;
and Cora, as if conscious that remonstrance would be useless, prepared to
submit to her fate without resistance.
“Hold, hold!” cried
Duncan, springing forward; “Huron, have mercy! Her ransom shall make thee
richer than any of thy people were ever yet known to be.”
“Magua is a red-skin;
he wants not the beads of the pale-faces.”
“Gold, silver, powder,
lead--all that a warrior needs, shall be in thy wigwam; all that becomes the
greatest chief.”
“Le Subtil is very
strong,” cried Magua, violently shaking the hand which grasped the unresisting
arm of Cora; “he has his revenge!”
“Mighty Ruler of
Providence!” exclaimed Heyward, clasping his hands together in agony, “can this
be suffered! To you, just Tamenund, I appeal for mercy.”
“The words of the
Delaware are said,” returned the sage, closing his eyes, and dropping back into
his seat, alike wearied with his mental and his bodily exertion. “Men speak not
twice.”
“That a chief should
not misspend his time in unsaying what has once been spoken, is wise and
reasonable,” said Hawk-eye, motioning to Duncan to be silent; “but it is also
prudent in every warrior to consider well before he strikes his tomahawk into
the head of his prisoner. Huron, I love you not; nor can I say that any Mingo
has ever received much favour at my hands. It is fair to conclude, that if this
war does not soon end, many more of your warriors will meet me in the woods.
Put it to your judgment, then, whether you would prefer taking such a prisoner
as that lady into your encampment, or one like myself, who am a man that it
would greatly rejoice your nation to see with naked hands.”
“Will the ‘long rifle’
give his life for the woman?” demanded Magua, hesitatingly; for he had already
made a motion towards quitting the place with his victim.
“No, no; I have not
said so much as that,” returned Hawk-eye, drawing back, with suitable
discretion, when he noted the eagerness with which Magua listened to his
proposal. “It would be an unequal exchange, to give a warrior, in the prime of
his age and usefulness, for the best woman on the frontiers. I might consent to
go into winter quarters, now--at least six weeks afore the leaves will turn--on
condition you will release the maiden.”
Magua shook his head in
cold disdain, and made an impatient sign for the crowd to open.
“Well, then,” added the
scout, with the musing air of a man who had not half made up his mind, “I will
throw ‘kill-deer’ into the bargain. Take the word of an experienced hunter, the
piece has not its equal atween the provinces.”
Magua still disdained
to reply, continuing his efforts to disperse the crowd.
“Perhaps,” added the
scout, losing his dissembled coolness, exactly in proportion as the other
manifested an indifference to the exchange, “if I should condition to teach
your young men the real virtue of the we’pon, it would smooth the little
differences in our judgments.”
Le Renard fiercely
ordered the Delawares, who still lingered in an impenetrable belt around him,
in hopes he would listen to the amicable proposal, to open his path,
threatening, by the glance of his eye, another appeal to the infallible justice
of their “prophet.”
“What is ordered, must
sooner or later arrive,” continued Hawk-eye, turning with a sad and humbled
look to Uncas. “The varlet knows his advantage, and will keep it! God bless
you, boy; you have found friends among your natural kin, and I hope they will
prove as true as some you have met, who had no Indian cross. As for me, sooner
or later, I must die; it is therefore fortunate there are but few to make my
death-howl! After all, it is likely the imps would have managed to master my
scalp, so a day or two will make no great difference in the everlasting
reckoning of time. God bless you,” added the rugged woodsman, bending his head
aside, with quivering muscles, and then instantly changing its direction again,
with a wistful look towards the youth; “I loved both you and your father,
Uncas, though our skins are not altogether of a colour, and our gifts are
somewhat different. Tell the Sagamore I never lost sight of him in my greatest
trouble; and, as for you, think of me sometimes, when on a lucky trail; and
depend on it, boy, whether there be one heaven or two, there is a path in the
other world, by which honest men may come together, again. You’ll find the
rifle in the place we hid it; take it, and keep it for my sake; and harkee,
lad, as your natural gifts dont deny you the use of vengeance, use it a little
freely on the Mingoes; it may unburthen your grief at my loss, and ease your
mind. Huron, I accept your offer; release the lady. I am your prisoner.”
A suppressed, but still
distinct murmur of approbation, ran through the crowd at this generous proposition;
even the fiercest among the Delaware warriors manifesting pleasure at the
manliness of the intended sacrifice. Magua paused, and for an anxious moment,
it might be said, he doubted; then casting his eyes on Cora, with an expression
in which ferocity and admiration were strangely mingled, his purpose became
fixed for ever.
He intimated his
contempt of the offer, with a backward motion of his head, and said, in a
steady and settled voice--
“Le Renard Subtil is a
great chief; he has but one mind. Come,” he added, laying his hand too
familiarly on the shoulder of his captive, to urge her onward; “a Huron warrior
is no tattler; we will go.”
The maiden drew back in
lofty, womanly reserve, and her dark eye kindled, while the rich blood shot,
like the passing brightness of the sun, into her very temples, at the
indignity.
“I am your prisoner,
and at a fitting time shall be ready to follow, even to my death. But violence
is unnecessary,” she coldly said; and immediately turning to Hawk-eye, added, “generous
hunter! from my soul I thank you. Your offer is vain, neither could it be
accepted; but still you may serve me, even more than in your own noble
intention. Look at that drooping, humbled child! Abandon her not until you
leave her in the habitations of civilized men. I will not say,” wringing the
hard hand of the scout, “that her father will reward you--for such as you are
above the rewards of men--but he will thank you, and bless you. And, believe
me, the blessing of a just and aged man, has virtue in the sight of Heaven.
Would to God, I could hear one from his lips at this awful moment!” Her voice
became choked, and for an instant she was silent then advancing a step nigher
to Duncan, who was supporting her unconscious sister, she continued in more
subdued tones, but in which her feelings, and the habits of her sex, maintained
a fearful struggle--“I need not tell you to cherish the treasure you will
possess. You love her, Heyward; that would conceal a thousand faults, though
she had them. She is as kind, as gentle, as sweet, as good, as mortal may be.
There is not a blemish in mind or person, at which the proudest of you all
would sicken. She is fair--Oh! how surpassingly fair!” laying her own
beautiful; but less brilliant hand, in melancholy affection, on the alabaster
forehead of Alice, and parting the golden hair which clustered about her brows;
“and yet her soul is as pure and spotless as her skin! I could say much--more,
perhaps, than cooler reason would approve; but I will spare both you and
myself--” Her voice became inaudible, and her face was bent over the form of
her sister. After a long and burning kiss, she arose, and with features of the
hue of death, but without even a tear in her feverish eye, she turned away, and
added, to the savage, with all her former elevation of manner--“Now, sir, if it
be your pleasure, I will follow.”
“Ay, go,” cried Duncan,
placing Alice in the arms of an Indian girl; “go, Magua, go. These Delawares
have their laws, which forbid them to detain you; but I--I have no such
obligation. Go, malignant monster--why do you delay!”
It would be difficult
to describe the expression of features with which Magua listened to this threat
to follow. There was at first a fierce and manifest display of joy, and then it
was instantly subdued in a look of cunning coldness.
“The woods are open,”
he was content with answering; “the ‘open hand’ can follow.”
“Hold,” cried Hawk-eye,
seizing Duncan by the arm, and detaining him by violence; “you know not the
craft of the imp. He would lead you to an ambushment, and your death--”
“Huron,” interrupted
Uncas, who, submissive to the stern customs of his people, had been an
attentive and grave listener to all that passed; “Huron, the justice of the
Delawares comes from the Manitto. Look at the sun. He is now in the upper
branches of the hemlock. Your path is short and open. When he is seen above the
trees, there will be men on your trail.”
“I hear a crow!”
exclaimed Magua, with a taunting laugh. “Go,” he added, shaking his hand at the
crowd, which had slowly opened to admit his passage--“Where are the petticoats
of the Delawares! Let them send their arrows and their guns to the Wyandots;
they shall have venison to eat, and corn to hoe. Dogs, rabbits, thieves--I spit
on you!”
His parting gibes were
listened to in a dead, boding, silence; and, with these biting words in his
mouth, the triumphant Magua passed unmolested into the forest, followed by his
passive captive, and protected by the inviolable laws of Indian hospitality.
Flue. “Kill the poys and the
luggage! ’tis expressly against the law of arms ’tis as arrant a piece of
knevery, mark you now, as can be offered in the ’orld.”
King Henry V
So long as their enemy
and his victim continued in sight, the multitude remained, motionless as beings
charmed to the place by some power that was friendly to the Huron; but the
instant he disappeared, it became tossed and agitated by fierce and powerful
passion. Uncas maintained his elevated stand, keeping his eyes on the form of
Cora, until the colours of her dress were blended with the foliage of the
forest; when he descended, and moving silently through the throng, he
disappeared in that lodge, from which he had so recently issued. A few of the
graver and more attentive warriors, who caught the gleams of anger that shot
from the eyes of the young chief, in passing, followed him to the place he had
selected for his meditations. After which, Tamenund and Alice were removed, and
the women and children were ordered to disperse. During the momentous hour that
succeeded, the encampment resembled a hive of troubled bees, who only awaited
the appearance and example of their leader, to take some distant and momentous
flight.
A young warrior, at
length, issued from the lodge of Uncas, and moving deliberately, with a sort of
grave march, towards a dwarf pine, that grew in the crevices of the rocky
terrace, he tore the bark from its body, and then returned whence he came,
without speaking. He was soon followed by another, who stripped the sapling of its
branches, leaving it a naked and “blazed” trunk. A third coloured the post with
stripes of a dark red paint; all which indications of a hostile design in the
leaders of the nation, were received by the men without, in a gloomy and
ominous silence. Finally, the Mohican himself reappeared, devested of all his
attire, except his girdle and leggings, and with one half of his fine features
hid under a cloud of threatening black.
Uncas moved with a slow
and dignified tread towards the post, which he immediately commenced encircling
with a measured step, not unlike an ancient dance, raising his voice, at the
same time, in the wild and irregular chant of his war-song. The notes were in
the extremes of human sounds; being sometimes melancholy and exquisitely plaintive,
even rivalling the melody of birds--and then, by sudden and startling
transitions, causing the auditors to tremble by their depth and energy. The
words were few, and often repeated, proceeding gradually from a sort of
invocation, or hymn, to the deity, to an intimation of the warrior’s object,
and terminating as they commenced, with an acknowledgment of his own dependence
on the Great Spirit. If it were possible to translate the comprehensive and
melodious language in which he spoke, the ode might read something like the
following--
Manitto! Manitto!
Manitto!
Thou art great--thou
art good--thou art wise--
Manitto! Manitto!
Thou art just!
In the heavens, in the
clouds, Oh! I see!
Many spots--many
dark--many red--
In the heavens, Oh! I
see!
Many clouds.
In the woods, in the
air, Oh! I hear!
The whoop, the long
yell, and the cry--
In the woods, Oh! I
hear!
The loud whoop!
Manitto! Manitto!
Manitto!
I am weak--thou art
strong--I am slow--
Manitto! Manitto!
Give me aid.
At the end of what
might be called each verse, he made a pause, by raising a note louder and
longer than common, that was peculiarly suited to the sentiment just expressed.
The first close was solemn, and intended to convey the idea of veneration; the
second descriptive, bordering on the alarming; and the third was the well-known
and terrific war-whoop, which burst from the lips of the young warrior, like a
combination of all the frightful sounds of battle. The last was like the first,
humble, meek, and imploring. Three times did he repeat this song, and as often
did he encircle the post, in his dance.
At the close of the
first turn, a grave and highly esteemed chief of the Lenape, followed his
example, singing words of his own, however, to music of a similar character. Warrior
after warrior enlisted in the dance, until all of any renown and authority were
to be numbered in its mazes. The spectacle now became wildly terrific; the
fierce looking and menacing visages of the chiefs receiving additional power,
from the appalling strains in which they mingled their guttural tones. Just
then, Uncas struck his tomahawk deep into the post, and raised his voice in a
shout, which might be termed his own battle cry. The act announced that he had
assumed the chief authority in the intended expedition.
It was a signal that
awakened all the slumbering passions of the nation. A hundred youths, who had
hitherto been restrained by the diffidence of their years, rushed in a frantic
body on the fancied emblem of their enemy, and severed it asunder, splinter by
splinter, until nothing remained of the trunk but its roots in the earth.
During this moment of tumult, the most ruthless deeds of war were performed on
the fragments of the tree, with as much apparent ferocity, as though they were
the actual living victims of their cruelty. Some were scalped; some received
the keen and trembling axe; and others suffered by thrusts from the fatal
knife. In short, the manifestations of zeal and fierce delight were so great
and unequivocal, that it was soon apparent the expedition was unqualifiedly
declared to be a war of the nation.
The instant Uncas had
struck the blow, he moved out of the circle, and cast his eyes up at the sun,
which was just gaining the point, when the truce with Magua was to end. The fact
was soon announced by a significant gesture, accompanied by a corresponding
cry, and the whole of the excited multitude abandoned their mimic warfare, with
shrill and loud yells of pleasure, to prepare for the more hazardous experiment
of the reality.
The whole face of the
encampment was now instantly changed. The warriors, who were already armed and
painted, became as still, as if they were incapable of any uncommon burst of
emotion. On the other hand, the women broke out of the lodges, with the songs
of joy and those of lamentation, so strangely mingled, that it might have been
difficult to have said which passion preponderated. None, however, were idle.
Some bore their choicest articles, others their young, and some their aged and
infirm, into the forest, which spread itself like a verdant carpet of bright
green, against the side of the mountain. Thither Tamenund also retired, with
calm composure, after a short and touching interview with Uncas; from whom the
sage separated with the reluctance that a parent would quit a long, lost, and
just recovered, child. In the mean time, Duncan saw Alice to a place of safety,
and then sought the scout, with features that denoted how eagerly he, also,
panted for the approaching contest.
But Hawk-eye was too
much accustomed to the war-song and the enlistments of the natives, to betray
any interest in the passing scene. He merely cast an occasional look at the
number and quality of the warriors, who, from time to time, signified their
readiness to accompany Uncas to the field. In this particular he was soon
satisfied; for, as has been already seen, the power of the young chief quickly
embraced every fighting man in the nation. After this material point was so
satisfactorily decided, he despatched an Indian boy, in quest of “kill-deer”
and the rifle of Uncas, to the place, in the margin of the forest, where they
had deposited the weapons, on approaching the camp of the Delawares--a measure
of double policy, inasmuch as it protected the arms from their own fate, if
detained as prisoners, and gave them the advantage of appearing among the
strangers rather as sufferers, than as men provided with the means of defence
and subsistence. In selecting another to perform the office of reclaiming his
highly prized rifle, the scout had lost sight of none of his habitual caution.
He knew that Magua had not come unattended, and he also knew that Huron spies
watched the movements of their new enemies, along the whole boundary of the
woods. It would, therefore, have been fatal to himself to have attempted the
experiment; a warrior would have fared no better; but the danger of a boy would
not be likely to commence until after his object was discovered. When Heyward
joined him, the scout was coolly awaiting the result of this experiment.
The boy, who had been
well instructed, and was sufficiently crafty, proceeded, with a bosom that was
swelling with the pride of such a confidence, and all the hopes of young
ambition, carelessly across the clearing to the wood, which he entered at a
point at some little distance from the place where the guns were secreted. The
instant, however, he was concealed by the foliage of the bushes, his dusky form
was to be seen gliding, like that of a serpent, towards the desired treasure.
He was successful; and in another moment he appeared, flying across the narrow
opening that skirted the base of the terrace on which the village stood, with
the velocity of an arrow, and bearing one of his prizes in each hand. He had
actually gained the crags, and was leaping up their sides with incredible
activity, when a shot from the woods showed how accurate had been the judgment
of the scout. The boy answered it with a feeble, but contemptuous shout, and
immediately a second bullet was sent after him, from another part of the cover.
At the next instant he appeared on the level above, elevating his guns in
triumph, while he moved, with the air of a conqueror, towards the renowned
hunter, who had honoured him by so glorious a commission.
Notwithstanding the
lively interest Hawk-eye had taken in the fate of his messenger, he received “kill-deer”
with a satisfaction that, momentarily, drove all other recollections from his
mind. After examining the piece with a keen and intelligent eye, and opening
and shutting the pan some ten or fifteen times, and trying sundry other equally
important experiments on the lock, he turned to the boy, and demanded, with
great manifestations of kindness, if he was hurt. The urchin looked proudly up
in his face, but made no reply.
“Ay! I see, lad, the knaves
have barked your arm!” added the scout, taking up the limb of the patient
sufferer, across which a deep flesh wound had been made by one of the bullets; “but
a little bruised alder will act like a charm. In the mean time, I will wrap it
in a badge of wampum! You have commenced the business of a warrior early, my
brave boy, and are likely to bear a plenty of honourable scars to your grave. I
know many young men that have taken scalps, who cannot show such a mark as
this! Go;” having bound up the arm; “you will be a chief!”
The lad departed,
prouder of his flowing blood than the vainest courtier could be of his blushing
riband; and stalked among the fellows of his age, an object of general
admiration and envy.
But in a moment of so
many serious and important duties, this single act of juvenile fortitude, did
not attract the general notice and commendation it would have received under
milder auspices. It had, however, served to apprise the Delawares of the
position and the intentions of their enemies. Accordingly, a party of
adventurers, better suited to the task than the weak, though spirited boy, were
ordered to dislodge the skulkers. The duty was soon performed, for most of the
Hurons retired of themselves, when they found they had been discovered. The
Delawares followed to a sufficient distance from their own encampment, and then
halted for orders, apprehensive of being led into an ambush. As both parties
secreted themselves, the woods were again as still and quiet, as a mild summer
morning and deep solitude could render them.
The calm, but still
impatient Uncas, now collected his chiefs, and divided his power. He presented
Hawk-eye as a warrior, often tried, and always found deserving of confidence.
When he found his friend met with a favourable reception, he bestowed on him
the command of twenty men, like himself, active, skilful, and resolute. He gave
the Delawares to understand the rank of Heyward among the troops of the
Yengeese, and then tendered to him a trust of equal authority. But Duncan declined
the charge, professing his readiness to serve as a volunteer by the side of the
scout. After this disposition, the young Mohican appointed various native
chiefs to fill the different situations of responsibility, and the time now
pressing, he gave forth the word to march. He was cheerfully, but silently,
obeyed, by more than two hundred men.
Their entrance into the
forest was perfectly unmolested; nor did they encounter any living objects,
that could either give the alarm, or furnish the intelligence they needed,
until they came upon the lairs of their own scouts. A halt was then ordered,
and the chiefs were assembled in front to hold a “whispering council.” At this
meeting, divers plans of operation were suggested, though none of a character
to meet the wishes of their ardent leader. Had Uncas followed the promptings of
his own inclinations, he would have led his followers to the charge without a
moment’s delay, and put the conflict to the hazard of an instant issue; but
such a course would have been in opposition to all the received practices and
opinions of his countrymen. He was, therefore, fain to adopt a caution, that in
the present temper of his mind, he execrated, and to listen to advice at which
his fiery spirit chafed, under the vivid recollection of Cora’s danger, and
Magua’s insolence.
After an unsatisfactory
conference of many minutes, a solitary individual was seen advancing from the
side of the enemy, with such apparent haste, as to induce the belief, he might
be a messenger charged with some pacific overtures. When within a hundred yards,
however, of the cover, behind which the Delaware council had assembled, the
stranger hesitated, appeared uncertain what course to take, and finally halted.
All eyes were now turned on Uncas, as if seeking directions how to proceed.
“Hawk-eye,” said the
young chief, in a low voice, “he must never speak to the Hurons again.”
“His time has come,”
said the laconic scout, thrusting the long barrel of his rifle through the
leaves, and taking his deliberate and fatal aim. But, instead of pulling the
trigger, he lowered the muzzle again, and indulged himself in a fit of his
peculiar mirth. “I took the imp for a Mingo, as I’m a miserable sinner!” he
said; “but when my eye ranged along his ribs, for a place to get the bullet
in--would you think it, Uncas--I saw the musicianer’s blower! and so, after
all, it is the man they call Gamut, whose death can profit no one, and whose
life, if his tongue can do any thing but sing, may be made serviceable to our
own ends. If sounds have not lost their virtue, I’ll soon have a discourse with
the honest fellow, and that in a voice he’ll find more agreeable than the
speech of ‘kill-deer.”’
So saying, Hawk-eye
laid aside his rifle, and crawling through the bushes, until within hearing of
David, he attempted to repeat the musical effort, which had conducted himself,
with so much safety and eclat, through the Huron encampment. The exquisite
organs of Gamut could not readily be deceived, (and, to say the truth, it would
have been difficult for any other than Hawk-eye to produce a similar noise,)
and, consequently, having once before heard the sounds, he now knew whence they
proceeded. The poor fellow appeared instantly relieved from a state of great
embarrassment; for, immediately pursuing the direction of the voice--a task
that to him was not much less arduous, than it would have been to have gone up
in face of a battery--he soon discovered the hidden songster, who produced such
melodious strains.
“I wonder what the
Hurons will think of that!” said the scout, laughing, as he took his companion
by the arm, and urged him swiftly towards the rear. “If the knaves lie within
ear-shot, they will say there are two non-compossurs, instead of one! But here
we are safe,” he added, pointing to Uncas and his associates. “Now give us the
history of the Mingo inventions, in natural English, and without any
ups-and-downs of voice.”
David gazed about him,
at the fierce and wild looking chiefs, in mute wonder; but assured by the
presence of faces that he knew, he soon rallied his faculties so far, as to
make an intelligent reply.
“The heathen are abroad
in goodly numbers,” said David; “and, as I fear, with evil intent. There has
been much howling and ungodly revelry, together with such sounds as it is
profanity to utter, in their habitations within the past hour; so much so, in
truth, that I have fled to the Delawares in search of peace.”
“Your ears might not
have profited much by the exchange, had you been quicker of foot,” returned the
scout, a little drily. “But let that be as it may; where are the Hurons?”
“They lie hid in the
forest, between this spot and their village, in such force, that prudence would
teach you instantly to return.”
Uncas cast a proud
glance along the range of trees which concealed his own band, and then
mentioned the name of--
“Magua?”--
“Is among them. He
brought in the maiden that had sojourned with the Delawares, and leaving her in
the cave, has put himself, like a raging wolf, at the head of his savages. I
know not what has troubled his spirit so greatly!”
“He has left her, you
say, in the cave!” interrupted Heyward; “’tis well that we know its situation!
May not something be done for her instant relief?”
Uncas looked earnestly
at the scout, before he asked--
“What says Hawk-eye?”
“Give me my twenty
rifles, and I will turn to the right, along the stream, and passing by the huts
of the beaver, will join the Sagamore and the Colonel. You shall then hear the
whoop from that quarter; with this wind one may easily send it a mile. Then,
Uncas, do you drive in their front; when they come within range of our pieces,
we will give them a blow, that I pledge the good name of an old frontiersman,
shall make their line bend, like an ashen bow. After which, we will carry their
village, and take the woman from the cave; when the affair may be finished with
the tribe, according to a white man’s battle, by a blow and a victory; or, in
the Indian fashion, with dodge and cover. There may be no great learning,
major, in this plan, but with courage and patience it can all be done.”
“I like it much,” cried
Duncan, who saw that the release of Cora was the primary object in the mind of
the scout; “I like it much. Let it then be instantly attempted.”
After a short
conference, the plan was matured, and rendered more intelligible to the several
parties; the different signals were appointed, and the chiefs separated, each
to his allotted station.
“But plagues shall
spread, and funeral fires increase,
Till the great King,
without a ransom paid,
To her own Chrysa, send
the black-eyed maid.”
--Pope.
During the time Uncas
was making this disposition of his forces, the woods were as still, and, with
the exception of those who had met in council, apparently, as much untenanted,
as when they came fresh from the hands of their Almighty Creator. The eye could
range, in every direction, through the long and shadowed vistas of the trees;
but no where was any object to be seen, that did not properly belong to the
peaceful and slumbering scenery. Here and there a bird was heard fluttering among
the branches of the beeches, and occasionally a squirrel dropped a nut, drawing
the startled looks of the party, for a moment, to the place; but the instant
the casual interruption ceased, the passing air was heard murmuring above their
heads, along that verdant and undulating surface of forest, which spread itself
unbroken, unless by stream or lake, over such a vast region of country. Across
the tract of wilderness, which lay between the Delawares and the village of
their enemies, it seemed as if the foot of man had never trodden, so breathing
and deep was the silence in which it lay. But Hawk-eye, whose duty now led him
foremost in the adventure, knew the character of those with whom he was about
to contend, too well, to trust the treacherous quiet.
When he saw his little
band again collected, the scout threw “kill-deer” into the hollow of his arm,
and making a silent signal that he would be followed, he led them many rods
towards the rear, into the bed of a little brook, which they had crossed in advancing.
Here he halted, and after waiting for the whole of his grave and attentive
warriors to close about him, he spoke in Delaware, demanding--
“Do any of my young men
know whither this run will lead us?”
A Delaware stretched
forth a hand, with the two fingers separated, and indicating the manner in
which they were joined at the root, he answered--
“Before the sun could
go his own length, the little water will be in the big.” Then he added,
pointing in the direction of the place he mentioned, “the two make enough for
the beavers.”
“I thought as much,”
returned the scout, glancing his eye upward at the opening in the tree-tops, “from
the course it takes, and the bearings of the mountains. Men, we will keep
within the cover of its banks till we scent the Hurons.”
His companions gave the
usual brief exclamation of assent, but perceiving that their leader was about
to lead the way, in person, one or two made signs that all was not as it should
be. Hawk-eye, who comprehended their meaning glances, turned, and perceived
that his party had been followed thus far by the singing-master.
“Do you know, friend,”
asked the scout, gravely, and perhaps with a little of the pride of conscious
deserving in his manner, “that this is a band of rangers, chosen for the most
desperate service, and put under the command of one, who, though another might
say it with a better face, will not be apt to leave them idle. It may not be
five, it cannot be thirty, minutes before we tread on the body of a Huron,
living or dead.”
“Though not admonished
of your intentions in words,” returned David, whose face was a little flushed,
and whose ordinarily quiet and unmeaning eyes glimmered with an expression of
unusual fire, “your men have reminded me of the children of Jacob going out to
battle against the Shechemites, for wickedly aspiring to wedlock with a woman
of a race that was favoured of the Lord. Now, I have journeyed far, and
sojourned much, in good and evil, with the maiden ye seek; and, though not a
man of war, with my loins girded and my sword sharpened, yet would I gladly
strike a blow in her behalf.”
The scout hesitated, as
if weighing the chances of such a strange enlistment in his mind, before he
answered--
“Yon know not the use
of any we’pon. You carry no rifle; and believe me, what the Mingoes take, they
will freely give again.”
“Though not a vaunting
and bloodily disposed Goliah,” returned David, drawing a sling from beneath his
parti-coloured and uncouth attire, “I have not forgotten the example of the
Jewish boy. With this ancient instrument of war have I practised much in my
youth, and peradventure the skill has not entirely departed from me.”
“Ay!” said Hawk-eye,
considering the deer-skin thong and apron, with a cold and discouraging eye; “the
thing might do its work among arrows, or even knives; but these Mengwe have
been furnished by the Frenchers with a good grooved barrel a man. However, it
seems to be your gift to go unharmed amid a fire; and as you have hitherto been
favoured--Major, you have left your rifle at a cock; a single shot before the
time, would be just twenty scalps lost to no purpose--Singer, you can follow;
we may find use for you in the shoutings.”
“I thank you, friend,”
returned David, supplying himself, like his royal namesake, from among the
pebbles of the brook, “though not given to the desire to kill, had you sent me
away, my spirit would have been troubled.”
“Remember,” added the
scout, tapping his own head significantly on that spot where Gamut was yet
sore, “we come to fight, and not to musickate. Until the general whoop is
given, nothing speaks but the rifle.”
David nodded, as much
as to signify his acquiescence with the terms, and then Hawk-eye, casting
another observant glance over his followers, made the signal to proceed.
Their route lay, for
the distance of a mile, along the bed of the water course. Though protected
from any great danger of observation by the precipitous banks, and the thick
shrubbery which skirted the stream, for the whole distance, no precaution:
known to an Indian attack, was neglected. A warrior rather crawled than walked
on each flank, so as to catch occasional glimpses into the forest; and every
few minutes the band came to a halt, and listened for hostile sounds, with an
acuteness of organs, that would be scarcely conceivable to a man in a less
natural state. Their march was, however, unmolested, and they reached the point
where the lesser stream was lost in the greater, without the smallest evidence
that their progress had been noted. Here the scout again halted, to consult the
signs of the forest.
“We are likely to have
a good day for a fight,” he said, in English, addressing Heyward, and glancing
his eye upwards at the clouds, which began to move in broad sheets across the
firmament; “a bright sun and a glittering barrel are no friends to true sight.
Every thing is favourable; they have the wind, which will bring down their
noises and their smoke too, no little matter in itself; whereas, with us, it
will be first a shot and then a clear view. But here is an end of our cover;
the beaver have had the range of this stream for hundreds of years, and what
atween their food and their dams, there is, as you see, many a girdled stub,
but few living trees.”
Hawk-eye had, in truth,
in these few words, given no bad description of the prospect that now lay in
their front. The brook was irregular in its width, sometimes shooting through
narrow fissures in the rocks, and at others, spreading over acres of bottom
land, forming little areas, that might be termed ponds. Every where along its
banks were the mouldering relics of dead trees, in all the stages of decay,
from those that groaned on their tottering trunks, to such as had recently been
robbed of those rugged coats, that so mysteriously contain their principle of life.
A few long, low, and moss covered piles, were scattered among them, like the
memorials of a former and long departed generation.
All these minute
particulars were now noted by the scout, with a gravity and interest, that they
probably had never before attracted. He knew that the Huron encampment lay a
short half mile up the brook, and, with the characteristic anxiety of one who
dreaded a hidden danger, he was greatly troubled at not finding the smallest
trace of the presence of his enemy. Once or twice he felt induced to give the
order for a rush, and to attempt the village by surprise; but his experience
quickly admonished him of the danger of so useless an experiment. Then he
listened intently, and with painful uncertainty, for the sounds of hostility in
the quarter where Uncas was left; but nothing was audible except the sighing of
the wind, that began to sweep over the bosom of the forest in gusts, which
threatened a tempest. At length, yielding rather to his unusual impatience,
than taking counsel from his knowledge, he determined to bring matters to an
issue, by unmasking his force, and proceeding cautiously, but steadily, up the
stream.
The scout had stood,
while making his observations, sheltered by a brake, and his companions still
lay in the bed of the ravine, through which the smaller stream debouched; but
on hearing his low, though intelligible signal, the whole party stole up the
bank, like so many dark spectres, and silently arranged themselves around him.
Pointing in the direction he wished to proceed, Hawk-eye advanced, the band
breaking off in single files, and following so accurately in his footsteps, as
to leave, if we except Heyward and David, the trail of but a single man.
The party was, however,
scarcely uncovered, before a volley from a dozen rifles was heard in their
rear, and a Delaware leaping high into the air, like a wounded deer, fell at
his whole length, perfectly dead.
“Ah! I feared some
deviltry like this!” exclaimed the scout, in English; adding, with the
quickness of thought, in his adopted tongue, “to cover men, and charge!”
The band dispersed at
the word, and before Heyward had well recovered from his surprise, he found
himself standing alone with David. Luckily, the Hurons had already fallen back,
and he was safe from their fire. But this state of things was evidently to be
of short continuance, for the scout set the example of pressing on their
retreat, by discharging his rifle, and darting from tree to tree, as his enemy
slowly yielded ground.
It would seem that the
assault had been made by a very small party of the Hurons, which, however,
continued to increase in numbers, as it retired on its friends, until the
return fire was very nearly, if not quite equal, to that maintained by the
advancing Delawares. Heyward threw himself among the combatants, and imitating
the necessary caution of his companions, he supported quick discharges with his
own rifle. The contest now grew warm and stationary. Few were injured, as both
parties kept their bodies as much protected as possible by the trees; never,
indeed, exposing any part of their persons, except in the act of taking aim.
But the chances were gradually growing unfavourable to Hawk-eye and his band.
The quick sighted scout perceived all his danger, without knowing how to remedy
it. He saw it was more dangerous to retreat than to maintain his ground; while
he found his enemy throwing out men on his flank, which rendered the task of
keeping themselves covered so very difficult to the Delawares, as nearly to
silence their fire. At this embarrasing moment, when they began to think the
whole of the hostile tribe was gradually encircling them, to their destruction,
they heard the yell of combatants, and the rattling of arms, echoing under the
arches of the wood, at the place where Uncas was posted; a bottom which, in a
manner, lay beneath the ground on which Hawk-eye and his party were contending.
The effects of this
attack were instantaneous, and to the scout and his friends greatly relieving.
It would seem, that while his own surprise had been anticipated, and had
consequently failed, the enemy, in their turn, having been deceived in its
object and in his numbers, had left too small a force to resist the impetuous
onset of the young Mohican. This fact was doubly apparent, by the rapid manner
in which the battle in the forest rolled upward towards the village, and by an
instant falling off in the number of their assailants, who rushed to assist in
maintaining their front, and, as it now proved to be, their principal point of
defence.
Animating his followers
by his voice, and his own example, Hawk-eye then gave the word to bear down
upon their foes. The charge, in that rude species of warfare, consisted merely
in pushing from cover to cover, nigher to the enemy; and in this manœuvre he
was instantly and successfully obeyed. The Hurons were compelled to withdraw,
and the scene of the contest rapidly changed from the more open ground on which
it had commenced, to a spot where the assailed found a thicket to rest upon.
Here the struggle was protracted, arduous, and, seemingly, of doubtful issue.
The Delawares, though none of them fell, beginning to bleed freely, in
consequence of the disadvantage at which they were held.
In this crisis,
Hawk-eye found means to get behind the same tree, as that which served for a
cover to Heyward; most of his own combatants being within call, a little on his
right, where they maintained rapid, though fruitless, discharges on their
sheltered enemies.
“You are a young man,
major,” said the scout, dropping the butt of ‘kill-deer’ to the earth, and
leaning on the barrel, a little fatigued with his previous industry; “and it
may be your gift to lead armies, at some future day, ag’in these imps, the
Mingoes. You may here see the philosophy of an Indian fight. It consists,
mainly, in a ready hand, a quick eye, and a good cover. Now, if you had a
company of the Royal Americans here, in what manner would you set them to work
in this business?”
“The bayonet would make
a road.”
“Ay, there is white
reason in what you say; but a man must ask himself, in this wilderness, how
many lives he can spare. No--horse,” continued the scout, shaking his head,
like one who mused; “horse, I am ashamed to say, must, sooner or later, decide
these skrimmages. The brutes are better than men, and to horse must we come at
last! Put a shodden hoof on the moccasin of a red-skin, and if his rifle be
once emptied, he will never stop to load it again.”
“This is a subject that
might better be discussed another time,” returned Heyward; “shall we charge?”
“I see no contradiction
to the gifts of any man, in passing his breathing spells in useful reflections,”
the scout mildly replied. “As to a rush, I little relish such a measure, for a
scalp or two must be thrown away in the attempt. And yet,” he added, bending
his head aside, to catch the sounds of the distant combat, “if we are to be of
use to Uncas, these knaves in our front must be now gotten rid of!”
Then turning, with a
prompt and decided air, from Duncan, he called aloud to his Indians, in their
own language. His words were answered by a shout, and at a given signal, each
warrior made a swift movement around his particular tree. The sight of so many dark
bodies, glancing before their eyes at the same instant, drew a hasty, and,
consequently, an ineffectual fire from the Hurons. Then, without stopping to
breathe, the Delawares leaped, in long bounds, towards the wood, like so many
panthers springing upon their prey. Hawk-eye was in front, brandishing his
terrible rifle, and animating his followers by his example. A few of the older
and more cunning Hurons, who had not been deceived by the artifice which had
been practised to draw their fire, now made a close and deadly discharge of
their pieces, and justified the apprehensions of the scout, by felling three of
his foremost warriors. But the shock was insufficient to repel the impetus of
the charge. The Delawares broke into the cover, with the ferocity of their
natures, and swept away every trace of resistance by the fury of the onset.
The combat endured only
for an instant, hand to hand, and then the assailed yielded ground rapidly,
until they reached the opposite margin of the thicket, where they clung to
their cover, with the sort of obstinacy that is so often witnessed in hunted
brutes. At this critical moment, when the success of the struggle was again
becoming doubtful, the crack of a rifle was heard behind the Hurons, and a
bullet came whizzing from among some beaver lodges, which were situated in the
clearing, in their rear, and was followed by the fierce and appalling yell of
the war-whoop.
“There speaks the
Sagamore!” shouted Hawk-eye, answering the cry with his own stentorian voice; “we
have them now in face and back!”
The effect on the
Hurons was instantaneous. Discouraged by so unexpected an assault, from a
quarter that left them no opportunity for cover, their warriors uttered a
common yell of disappointment and despair, and breaking off in a body, they
spread themselves across the opening, heedless of every other consideration but
flight. Many fell, in making the experiment, under the bullets and the blows of
the pursuing Delawares.
We shall not pause to
detail the meeting between the scout and Chingachgook, or the more touching
interview that Duncan held with the anxious father of his mistress. A few brief
and hurried words served to explain the state of things to both parties; and
then Hawk-eye, pointing out the Sagamore to his band, resigned the chief
authority into the hands of the Mohican chief. Chingachgook assumed the station
to which his birth and experience gave him so distinguished a claim, with the
grave dignity that always gives force to the mandates of a native warrior.
Following the footsteps of the scout, he led the party back through the
thicket, his men scalping the fallen Hurons, and secreting the bodies of their
own dead as they proceeded, until they gained a point where the former was
content to make a halt.
The warriors who had
breathed themselves so freely in the preceding struggle, were now posted on a
bit of level ground, sprinkled with trees, in sufficient numbers to conceal
them. The land fell off rather precipitously in front, and beneath their eyes
stretched, for several miles, a narrow, dark, and wooded vale. It was through
this dense and dark forest, that Uncas was still contending with the main body
of the Hurons.
The Mohican and his
friends advanced to the brow of the hill, and listened, with practised ears, to
the sounds of the combat. A few birds hovered over the leafy bosom of the
valley, as if frightened from their secluded nests, and here and there a light
vapoury cloud, which seemed already blending with the atmosphere, arose above
the trees, and indicated some spot where the struggle had been more fierce and
stationary than usual.
“The fight is coming up
the ascent,” said Duncan, pointing in the direction of a new explosion of
fire-arms; “we are too much in the centre of their line to be effective.”
“They will incline into
the hollow, where the cover is thicker,” said the scout, “and that will leave
us well on their flank. Go, Sagamore; you will hardly be in time to give the
whoop, and lead on the young men. I will fight this skrimmage with warriors of
my own colour! You know me, Mohican; not a Huron of them all shall cross the
swell, into your rear, without the notice of ‘kill-deer.”’
The Indian chief paused
another moment to consider the signs of the contest, which was now rolling
rapidly up the ascent, a certain evidence that the Delawares triumphed; nor did
he actually quit the place, until admonished of the proximity of his friends,
as well as enemies, by the bullets of the former, which began to patter among
the dried leaves on the ground, like the bits of falling bail which precede the
bursting of the tempest. Hawk-eye and his three companions withdrew a few paces
to a sheltered spot, and awaited the issue with that sort of calmness that
nothing but great practice could impart, in such a scene.
It was not long before
the reports of the rifles be gan to lose the echoes of the woods, and to sound
like weapons discharged in the open air. Then a warrior appeared, here and
there, driven to the skirts of the forest, and rallying as he entered the
clearing; as at the place where the final stand was to be made. These were soon
joined by others, until a long line of swarthy figures was to be seen clinging
to the cover, with the obstinacy of desperation. Heyward began to grow
impatient, and turned his eyes anxiously in the direction of Chingachgook. The
chief was seated on a rock, with nothing visible but his calm visage,
considering the spectacle with an eye as deliberate, as if he were posted there
merely to view the struggle.
“The time is come for
the Delaware to strike!” said Duncan.
“Not so, not so,”
returned the scout; “when he scents his friends, he will let them know that he
is here. See, see; the knaves are getting in that clump of pines, like bees
settling after their flight. By the Lord, a squaw might put a bullet in such a
knot of dark-skins!”
At that instant the
whoop was given, and a dozen Hurons fell by a discharge from Chingachgook and
his band. The shout that followed, was answered by a single war-cry from the
forest, and then a yell passed through the air, that sounded as though a
thousand throats were united in a common effort. The Hurons staggered,
deserting the centre of their line, and Uncas issued, through the opening they
left, from the forest, at the head of a hundred warriors.
Waving his hands right
and left, the young chief pointed out the enemy to his followers, who instantly
separated in the pursuit. The war now divided, both wings of the broken Hurons
seeking protection in the woods again, hotly pressed by the victorious warriors
of the Lenape. A minute might have passed, but the sounds were already receding
in different directions, and gradually losing their distinctness beneath the
echoing arches of the woods. One little knot of Hurons, however, had disdained
to seek a cover, and were retiring, like lions at bay, slowly and sullenly up
the acclivity, which Chingachgook and his band had just deserted to mingle,
more closely, in the fray. Magua was conspicuous in this party, both by his
fierce and savage mien, and by the air of haughty authority he yet maintained.
In his eagerness to
expedite the pursuit, Uncas had left himself nearly alone; but the moment his
eye caught the figure of le Subtil, every other consideration was forgotten.
Raising his cry of battle, which recalled some six or seven warriors, and
reckless of the disparity in their numbers, he rushed upon his enemy. Le
Renard, who watched the movement, paused to receive him with secret joy. But at
the moment when he thought the rashness of his impetuous young assailant had left
him at his mercy, another shout was given, and la Longue Carabine was seen
rushing to the rescue, attended by all his white associates. The Huron
instantly turned, and commenced a rapid retreat up the ascent.
There was no time for
greetings or congratulations; for Uncas, though unconscious of the presence of
his friends, continued the pursuit with the velocity of the wind. In vain
Hawk-eye called to him to respect the covers; the young Mohican braved the
dangerous fire of his enemies, and soon compelled them to a flight as swift as
his own headlong speed. It was fortunate that the race was of short
continuance, and that the white men were much favoured both in the distance and
the ground, by their position, or the Delaware would soon have outstripped all his
companions, and fallen a victim to his own temerity. But ere such a calamity
could happen, the pursuers and pursued entered the Wyandot village, within
striking distance of each other.
Excited by the presence
of their dwellings, and tired of the chase, the Hurons now made a stand, and
fought around their council lodge with the desperation of despair. The onset
and the issue were like the passage and destruction of a whirlwind. The
tomahawk of Uncas, the blows of Hawk-eye, and, even, the still nervous arm of
Munro, were all busy for that passing moment, and the ground was quickly
strewed with their enemies. Still Magua, though daring and much exposed,
escaped from every effort against his life, with that sort of fabled
protection, that was made to overlook the fortunes of favoured heroes in the
legends of ancient poetry. Raising a yell that spoke volumes of anger and
disappointment, the subtle chief, when he saw his comrades fallen, darted away
from the place, attended by his two only surviving friends, leaving the
Delawares engaged in stripping the dead of the bloody trophies of their
victory.
But Uncas, who had
vainly sought him in the mélé, bounded forward in pursuit; Hawk-eye, Heyward,
and David, still pressing on his footsteps. The utmost that the scout could
effect, was to keep the muzzle of his rifle a little in advance of his friend,
to whom, however, it answered every purpose of a charmed shield. Once Magua
appeared disposed to make another and a final effort to revenge his losses; but
abandoning his intentions so soon as demonstrated, he leaped into a thicket of
bushes, through which he was followed by his enemies, and suddenly entered the
mouth of the cave already known to the reader. Hawk-eye, who had only forborne
to fire in tenderness to Uncas, raised a shout of success, and proclaimed
aloud, that now they were certain of their game. The pursuers dashed into the
long and narrow entrance, in time to catch a glimpse of the retreating forms of
the Hurons. Their passage through the natural galleries and subterraneous
apartments of the cavern was preceded by the shrieks and cries of hundreds of
women and children. The place, seen by its dim and uncertain light, appeared
like the shades of the infernal regions, across which unhappy ghosts and savage
demons were fitting in multitudes.
Still Uncas kept his
eye on Magua, as if life to him possessed but a single object. Heyward and the
scout still pressed on his rear, actuated, though, possibly, in a less degree,
by a common feeling. But their way was becoming intricate, in those dark and
gloomy passages, and the glimpses of the retiring warriors less distinct and
frequent; and for a moment the trace was believed to be lost, when a white robe
was seen fluttering in the farther extremity of a passage that seemed to lead
up the mountain.
“’Tis Cora!” exclaimed
Heyward, in a voice in which horror and delight were wildly mingled.
“Cora! Cora!” echoed
Uncas, bounding forward like a deer.
“’Tis the maiden!”
shouted the scout. “Courage, lady; we come--we come.”
The chase was renewed
with a diligence rendered tenfold encouraging, by this glimpse of the captive.
But the way was now rugged, broken, and, in spots, nearly impassable. Uncas
abandoned his rifle, and leaped forward with headlong precipitation. Heyward
rashly imitated his example, though both were, a moment afterwards, admonished
of its madness, by hearing the bellowing of a piece, that the Hurons found time
to discharge down the passage in the rocks, the bullet from which even gave the
young Mohican a slight wound.
“We must close!” said
the scout, passing his friends by a desperate leap; “the knaves will pick us
all off at this distance; and see; they hold the maiden so as to shield
themselves!”
Though his words were
unheeded, or rather unheard, his example was followed by his companions, who,
by incredible exertions, got near enough to the fugitives to perceive that Cora
was borne along between the two warriors, while Magua prescribed the direction
and manner of their flight. At this moment, the forms of all four were strongly
drawn against an opening in the sky, and then they disappeared. Nearly frantic
with disappointment. Uncas and Heyward increased efforts that already seemed
superhuman, and they issued from the cavern on the side of the mountain, in
time to note the route of the pursued. The course lay up the ascent, and still
continued hazardous and laborious.
Encumbered by his
rifle, and, perhaps, not sustained by so deep an interest in the captive as his
companions, the scout suffered the latter to precede him a little; Uncas, in
his turn, taking the lead of Heyward. In this manner, rocks, precipices, and
difficulties, were surmounted, in an incredibly short space, that at another
time, and under other circumstances, would have been deemed almost insuperable.
But the impetuous young men were rewarded, by finding, that, encumbered with
Cora, the Hurons were rapidly losing ground in the race.
“Stay; dog of the
Wyandots!” exclaimed Uncas, shaking his bright tomahawk at Magua; “a Delaware
girl calls stay!”
“I will go no farther,”
cried Cora, stopping unexpectedly on a ledge of rocks, that overhung a deep
precipice, at no great distance from the summit of the mountain. “Kill me if
thou wilt, detestable Huron, I will go no farther!”
The supporters of the
maiden raised their ready tomahawks with the impious joy that fiends are
thought to take in mischief, but Magua suddenly stayed their uplifted arms. The
Huron chief, after casting the weapons he had wrested from his companions over the
rock, drew his knife, and turned to his captive, with a look in which
conflicting passions fiercely contended.
“Woman,” he said, “choose;
the wigwam or the knife of le Subtil!”
Cora regarded him not;
but dropping on her knees, with a rich glow suffusing itself over her features,
she raised her eyes and stretched her arms towards Heaven, saying, in a meek
and yet confiding voice--
“I am thine! do with me
as thou seest best!”
“Woman,” repeated
Magua, hoarsely, and endeavouring in vain to catch a glance from her serene and
beaming eye, “choose.”
But Cora neither heard
nor heeded his demand. The form of the Huron trembled in every fibre, and he
raised his arm on high, but dropped it again, with a wild and bewildered air,
like one who doubted. Once more he struggled with himself, and lifted the keen
weapon again--but just then a piercing cry was heard above them, and Uncas
appeared, leaping frantically, from a fearful height, upon the ledge. Magua
recoiled a step, and one of his assistants, profiting by the chance, sheathed
his own knife in the bosom of the maiden.
The Huron sprang like a
tiger on his offending and already retreating countryman, but the falling form
of Uncas separated the unnatural combatants. Diverted from his object by this
interruption, and maddened by the murder he had just witnessed, Magua buried
his weapon in the back of the prostrate Delaware, uttering an unearthly shout,
as he committed the dastardly deed. But Uncas arose from the blow, as the
wounded panther turns upon his foe, and struck the murderer of Cora to his
feet, by an effort, in which the last of his failing strength was expended.
Then, with a stern and steady look, he turned to le Subtil, and indicated, by
the expression of his eye, all that he would do, had not the power deserted
him. The latter seized the nerveless arm of the unresisting Delaware, and
passed his knife into his bosom three several times, before his victim, still
keeping his gaze riveted on his enemy with a look of inextinguishable scorn,
fell dead at his feet.
“Mercy! mercy! Huron,”
cried Heyward, from above, in tones nearly choked by horror; “give mercy, and
thou shalt receive it!”
Whirling the bloody
knife up at the imploring youth, the victorious Magua uttered a cry, so fierce,
so wild, and yet so joyous, that it conveyed the sounds of savage triumph to
the ears of those who fought in the valley, a thousand feet below. He was
answered by an appalling burst from the lips of the scout, whose tall person
was just then seen moving swiftly towards him, along those dangerous crags,
with steps as bold and reckless, as if he possessed the power to move in middle
air. But when the hunter reached the scene of the ruthless massacre, the ledge
was tenanted only by the dead.
His keen eye took a
single look at the victims, and then shot its fierce glances over the
difficulties of the ascent in his front. A form stood at the brow of the
mountain, on the very edge of the giddy height, with uplifted arms, in an awful
attitude of menace. Without stopping to consider his person, the rifle of
Hawk-eye was raised, but a rock, which fell on the head of one of the fugitives
below, exposed the indignant and glowing countenance of the honest Gamut. Then
Magua issued from a crevice, and stepping with calm indifference over the body
of the last of his associates, he leaped a wide fissure, and ascended the rocks
at a point where the arm of David could not reach him. A single bound would
carry him to the brow of the precipice, and assure his safety. Before taking
the leap, however, the Huron paused, and shaking his hand at the scout, he
shouted--
“The pale-faces are
dogs! the Delawares women! Magua leaves them on the rocks, for the crows!”
Laughing hoarsely, he
made a desperate leap, and fell short of his mark; though his hands grasped a
shrub on the verge of the height. The form of Hawk-eye had crouched like a
beast about to take its spring, and his frame trembled so violently with
eagerness, that the muzzle of the half raised rifle played like a leaf
fluttering in the wind. Without exhausting himself with fruitless efforts, the
cunning Magua suffered his body to drop to the length of his arms, and found a
fragment for his feet to rest upon. Then summoning all his powers, he renewed
the attempt, and so far succeeded, as to draw his knees on the edge of the
mountain. It was now, when the body of his enemy was most collected together,
that the agitated weapon of the scout was drawn to his shoulder. The
surrounding rocks, themselves, were not steadier than the piece became for the
single instant that it poured out its contents. The arms of the Huron relaxed,
and his body fell back a little, while his knees still kept their position.
Turning a relentless look on his enemy, he shook his hand at him, in grim
defiance. But his hold loosened, and his dark person was seen cutting the air
with its head downwards, for a fleeting instant, until it glided past the
fringe of shrubbery which clung to the mountain, in its rapid flight to
destruction.
“They fought--like
brave men, long and well,
They piled that ground with Moslem slain, They conquered--but Bozzaris fell,
Bleeding at every vein. His
few surviving comrades saw
His smile when rang
their proud hurrah,
And the red field was won; Then
saw in death his eyelids close
Calmly, as to a night’s
repose,
Like flowers at set of sun.” --Halleck.
The sun found the
Lenape, on the succeeding day, a nation of mourners. The sounds of the battle
were over, and they had fed fat their ancient grudge, and had avenged their
recent quarrel with the Mengwe, by the destruction of a community. The black
and murky atmosphere that floated around the spot where the Hurons had
encamped, sufficiently announced, of itself, the fate of that wandering tribe;
while hundreds of ravens, that struggled above the bleak summits of the
mountains, or swept, in noisy flocks, across the wide ranges of the woods,
furnished a frightful direction to the scene of the fatal combat. In short, any
eye, at all practised in the signs of a frontier warfare, might easily have traced
all those unerring evidences of the ruthless results which attend an Indian
vengeance.
Still, the sun rose on
the Lenape, a nation of mourners. No shouts of success, no songs of triumph,
were heard, in rejoicings for their victory. The latest straggler had returned
from his fell employment, only to strip himself of the terrific emblems of his
bloody calling, and to join in the lamentations of his countrymen, as a
stricken people. Pride and exultation were supplanted by humility, and the
fiercest of human passions was already succeeded by the most profound and
unequivocal demonstrations of grief.
The lodges were
deserted; but a broad belt of earnest faces encircled a spot in their vicinity,
whither every thing possessing life had repaired, and where all were now
collected, in a deep and awful silence. Though beings of every rank and age, of
both sexes, and of all pursuits, had united to form this breathing wall of
bodies, they were influenced by a single emotion. Each eye was riveted on the
centre of that ring, which contained the objects of so much, and of so common,
an interest.
Six Delaware girls,
with their long, dark, flowing, tresses, falling loosely across their bosoms,
stood apart, and only gave proofs of their existence, as they occasionally strewed
sweet scented herbs and forest flowers on a litter of fragrant plants, that,
under a pall of Indian robes, supported all that now remained of the ardent,
highsouled, and generous Cora. Her form was concealed in many wrappers of the
same simple manufacture, and her face was shut for ever from the gaze of human
eyes. At her feet was seated the desolate Munro. His aged head was bowed nearly
to the earth, in compelled submission to the stroke of Providence; but there
was a hidden anguish that struggled about his furrowed brow, that was only
partially concealed by the careless locks of gray that had fallen, neglected,
on his temples. Gamut stood at his side, with his meek head bared to the rays
of the sun, while his eyes, wandering and concerned, seemed to be equally
divided between that little volume, which contained so many quaint but holy
maxims, and the being, in whose behalf his soul yearned to administer their
consolation. Heyward was also nigh, supporting himself against a tree, and
endeavouring to keep down those sudden risings of sorrow, that it required his
utmost manhood to subdue.
But sad and melancholy
as this groupe may easily be imagined, it was far less touching than another,
that occupied the opposite space of the same area. Seated, as in life, with his
form and limbs arranged in grave and decent composure, Uncas appeared, arrayed
in the most gorgeous ornaments that the wealth of the tribe could furnish. Rich
plumes nodded above his head; wampum, gorgets, bracelets, and medals, adorned
his person in profusion; though his dull eye, and vacant lineaments, too
strongly contradicted the idle tale of pride they would convey.
Directly in front of
the corpse, Chingachgook was placed, without arms, paint, or adornment of any
sort, except the bright blue blazonry of his race, that was indelibly impressed
on his naked bosom. During the long period that the tribe had been thus
collected, the Mohican warrior had kept a steady, anxious, look on the cold and
senseless countenance of his son. So riveted and intense had been that gaze,
and so changeless his attitude, that a stranger might not have told the living
from the dead, but for the occasional gleamings of a troubled spirit, that shot
athwart the dark visage of one, and the death-like calm that had for ever
settled on the lineaments of the other.
The scout was hard by,
leaning, in a pensive posture, on his own fatal and avenging weapon; while
Tamenund, supported by the elders of his nation, occupied a high place at hand,
whence he might look down on the mute and sorrowful assemblage of his people.
Just within the inner
edge of the circle, stood a soldier, in the military attire of a strange
nation; and without it, was his war-horse, in the centre of a collection of
mounted domestics, seemingly in readiness to undertake some distant journey.
The vestments of the stranger announced him to be one who held a responsible
situation near the person of the Captain of the Canadas; and who, as it would
now seem, finding his errand of peace frustrated by the fierce impetuosity of
his allies, was content to become a silent and sad spectator of the fruits of a
contest, that he had arrived too late to anticipate.
The day was drawing to
the close of its first quarter, and yet had the multitude maintained its
breathing stillness, since the appearance of early dawn. No sound louder than a
stifled sob had been heard among them, nor had even a limb been moved
throughout that long and painful period, except to perform the simple and
touching offerings that were made, from time to time, in commemoration of the
sweetness of the maiden. The patience and forbearance of Indian fortitude,
could alone support such an appearance of abstraction, as seemed now to have
turned each dark and motionless figure into some rigid being carved in stone.
At length, the sage of
the Delawares stretched forth an arm, and leaning on the shoulders of his
attendants, he arose with an air as feeble, as if another age had already
intervened between the man who had met his nation the preceding day, and him
who now tottered on his elevated stand.
“Men of the Lenape!” he
said, in hollow tones, that sounded like a voice charged with some prophetic
mission; “the face of the Manitto is behind a cloud! his eye is turned from
you; his ears are shut; his tongue gives no answer. You see him not; yet his
judgments are before you. Let your hearts be open, and your spirits tell no
lie. Men of the Lenape, the face of the Manitto is behind a cloud!”
As this simple and yet
terrible annunciation stole on the ears of the multitude, a stillness as deep
and awful succeeded, as if the venerated spirit they worshipped had uttered the
words, without the aid of human organs; and even the inanimate Uncas appeared a
being of life, compared with the humbled and submissive throng by whom he was
now surrounded. As the immediate effect, however, gradually passed away, a low
murmur of voices commenced a sort of chant in honour of the dead. The sounds
were those of females, and were thrillingly soft and wailing. The words were
connected by no regular continuation, but as one ceased, another took up the
eulogy, or lamentation, which ever it might be called, and gave vent to her
emotions, in such language as was suggested by her feelings and the occasion.
At intervals, the speaker was interrupted by general and loud bursts of sorrow,
during which the girls around the bier of Cora plucked the plants and flowers,
blindly, from her body, as if bewildered with grief. But, in the milder moments
of their plaint, these emblems of purity and sweetness were cast back to their
places, with every sign of tenderness and regret. Though rendered less
connected by many and general interruptions and outbreakings, a translation of
their language would have contained a regular descant, which, in substance,
might have proved to possess a train of consecutive ideas.
A girl, selected for
the task by her rank and qualifications, commenced by modest allusions to the
qualities of the deceased warrior, embellishing her expressions with those
oriental images, that the Indians have probably brought with them from the
extremes of the other continent, and which form, of themselves, a link to
connect the ancient histories of the two worlds. She called him the “panther of
his tribe;” and described him as one whose moccasin left no trail on the dews;
whose bound was like the leap of the young fawn; whose eye was brighter than a
star in the dark night; and whose voice, in battle, was loud as the thunder of
the Manitto. She reminded him of the mother who bore him, and dwelt forcibly on
the happiness she must feel in possessing such a son. She bade him tell her,
when they met in the world of spirits, that the Delaware girls had shed tears
above the grave of her child, and had called her blessed.
Then, they who
succeeded, changing their tones to a milder and still more tender strain,
alluded, with the peculiar delicacy and sensitiveness of women, to the stranger
maiden, who had left the upper earth at a time so near his own departure, as to
render the will of the Great Spirit too manifest to be disregarded. They
admonished him to be kind to her, and to have consideration for her ignorance
of those arts, which were so necessary to the comfort of a warrior like
himself. They dwelt upon her matchless beauty, and on her noble resolution,
without the taint of envy, and as angels may be thought to delight in a
superior excellence; adding, that these endowments should prove more than
equivalent for any little imperfections in her education.
After which, others
again, in due succession, spoke to the maiden herself, in the low, soft language
of tenderness and love. They exhorted her to be of cheerful mind, and to fear
nothing for her future welfare. A hunter would be her companion, who knew how
to provide for her smallest wants; and a warrior was at her side, who was able
to protect her against every danger. They promised that her path should be
pleasant, and her burthen light. They cautioned her against unavailing regrets
for the friends of her youth, and the scenes where her fathers had dwelt;
assuring her that the “blessed hunting grounds of the Lenape” contained vales
as pleasant, streams as pure, and flowers as sweet, as the “Heaven of the
pale-faces.” They advised her to be attentive to the wants of her companion,
and never to forget the distinction which the Manitto had so wisely established
between them. Then, in a wild burst of their chant, they sung, with united
voices, the temper of the Mohican’s mind. They pronounced him noble, manly, and
generous; all that became a warrior, and all that a maid might love. Clothing
their ideas in the most remote and subtle images, they betrayed, that, in the
short period of their intercourse, they had discovered, with the intuitive
perception of their sex, the truant disposition of his inclinations. The
Delaware girls had found no favour in his eyes! He was of a race that had once
been lords on the shores of the salt lake, and his wishes had led him back to a
people who dwelt about the graves of his fathers. Why should not such a
predilection be encouraged! That she was of a blood purer and richer than the
rest of her nation, any eye might have seen. That she was equal to the dangers
and daring of a life in the woods, her conduct had proved; and, now, they
added, the “wise one of the earth” had transplanted her to a place where she
would find congenial spirits, and might be for ever happy.
Then, with another
transition in voice and subject, allusions were made to the virgin who wept in
the adjacent lodge. They compared her to flakes of snow; as pure, as white, as
brilliant, and as liable to melt in the fierce heats of summer, or congeal in
the frosts of winter. They doubted not that she was lovely in the eyes of the
young chief, whose skin and whose sorrow seemed so like her own; but, though
far from expressing such a preference, it was evident, they deemed her less
excellent than the maid they mourned. Still they denied her no meed, her rare
charms might properly claim. Her ringlets were compared to the exuberant
tendrils of the vine, her eye to the blue vault of the heavens, and the most
spotless cloud, with its glowing flush of the sun, was admitted to be less
attractive than her bloom.
During these and
similar songs, nothing was audible but the murmurs of the music; relieved, as
it was, or rather rendered terrible, by those occasional bursts of grief, which
might be called its chorusses. The Delawares themselves listened like charmed
men; and it was very apparent, by the variations of their speaking
countenances, how deep and true was their sympathy. Even David was not
reluctant to lend his ears to the tones of voices so sweet; and long ere the
chant was ended, his eager and attentive gaze announced that his soul was
entirely enthralled.
The scout, to whom
alone, of all the white men, the words were intelligible, suffered himself to
be a little aroused from his meditative posture, and bent his face aside, to
catch their meaning, as the girls proceeded. But when they spoke of the future
prospects of Cora and Uncas, he shook his head, like one who knew the error of
their simple creed, and resuming his reclining attitude, he maintained it until
the ceremony--if that might be called a ceremony, in which feeling was so
deeply imbued--was finished. Happily for the self-command of both Heyward and
Munro, they knew not the meaning of the wild sounds they heard.
Chingachgook was a
solitary exception to the interest manifested by the native part of the
audience. His look never changed throughout the whole of the scene, nor did a
muscle move in his dark and rigid countenance, even at the wildest, or most pathetic
parts of the lamentation. The cold and senseless remains of his son was all to
him, and every other sense but that of sight seemed frozen, in order that his
eyes might take their final gaze at those lineaments he had so long loved, and
which were now about to be closed for ever from his view.
In this stage of the
funeral obsequies, a warrior, much renowned for his deeds in arms, and more
especially for his services in the recent combat, a man of stern and grave
demeanour, advanced slowly from the crowd, and placed himself nigh the person
of the dead.
“Why hast thou left us,
pride of the Wapanachki!” he said, addressing himself to the dull ears of
Uncas, as though the empty clay still retained the faculties of the animated
man; “thy time has been like that of the sun when in the trees; thy glory
brighter than his light at noon-day. Thou art gone, youthful warrior, but a
hundred Wyandots are clearing the briars from thy path to the world of spirits.
Who that saw thee in battle, would believe that thou couldst die! Who before
thee hast ever shown Uttawa the way into the fight. Thy feet were like the
wings of eagles; thine arm heavier than falling branches from the pine; and thy
voice like the Manitto, when he speaks in the clouds. The tongue of Uttawa is
weak,” he added, looking about him with a melancholy gaze, “and his heart
exceeding heavy. Pride of the Wapanachki, why hast thou left us!”
He was succeeded by
others, in due order, until most of the high and gifted men of the nation had
sung or spoken their tribute of praise over the manes of the deceased
chieftain. When each had ended, another deep and breathing silence reigned in
all the place.
Then a low, deep sound
was heard, like the suppressed accompaniment of distant music, rising just high
enough on the air to be audible, and yet so indistinctly, as to leave its
character, and the place whence it proceeded, alike matters of conjecture. It
was, however, succeeded by another and another strain, each in a higher key,
until they grew on the ear, first in long drawn and often repeated
interjections, and finally in words. The lips of Chingachgook had so far
parted, as to announce that it was the monody of the father which was now about
to be uttered. Though not an eye was turned towards him, nor the smallest sign
of impatience exhibited, it was apparent, by the manner in which the multitude
elevated their heads to listen, that they drunk in the sounds with an
intenseness of attention, that none but Tamenund himself had ever before
commanded. But they listened in vain. The strains rose just so loud, as to
become intelligible, and then grew fainter and more trembling, until they
finally sunk on the ear, as if borne away by a passing breath of wind. The lips
of the Sagamore closed, and he remained silent in his seat, looking, with his
riveted eye and motionless form, like some creature that had been turned from
the Almighty hand with the form, but without the spirit of a man. The
Delawares, who knew, by these symptoms, that the mind of their friend was not prepared
for so mighty an effort of fortitude, relaxed in their attention, and, with
innate delicacy, seemed to bestow all their thoughts on the obsequies of the
stranger maiden.
A signal was given, by
one of the elder chiefs, to the women, who crowded that part of the circle near
which the body of Cora lay. Obedient to the sign, the girls raised the bier to
the elevation of their heads, and advanced with slow and regulated steps,
chanting, as they proceeded, another soft, low, and wailing song, in praise of
the deceased. Gamut, who had been a close observer of rites he deemed so
heathenish, now bent his head over the shoulder of the unconscious father,
whispering--
“They move with the
remains of thy child; shall we not follow, and see them interred with Christian
burial?”
Munro started, as
though the last trumpet had sounded its blast in his ear, and bestowing one
anxious and hurried glance around him, he arose and followed in the simple
train, with the mien of a soldier, but bearing the full burthen of a parent’s
suffering. His friends pressed around him with a sorrow that was too strong to
be termed sympathy--even the young Frenchman joining in the procession, with
the air of a man who was sensibly touched at the early and melancholy fate of
one so lovely. But when the last and humblest female of the tribe had joined in
the wild, and yet ordered, array, the men of the Lenape contracted their
circle, and formed, again, around the person of Uncas, as silent, as grave, and
as motionless, as before.
The place which had
been chosen for the grave of Cora, was a little knoll, where a cluster of young
and healthful pines had taken root, forming, of themselves, a melancholy and
appropriate shade over the spot. On reaching it, the girls deposited their
burthen, and continued, for many minutes, waiting, with characteristic
patience, and native timidity, for some evidence, that they whose feelings were
most concerned, were content with the arrangement. At length, the scout, who
alone understood their habits, said, in their own language--
“My daughters have done
well; the white men thank them.”
Satisfied with this
testimony in their favour, the girls proceeded to deposit the body in a shell,
ingeniously, and not inelegantly, fabricated of the bark of the birch; after which,
they lowered it into its dark and final abode. The ceremony of covering the
remains, and concealing the marks of the fresh earth, by leaves and other
natural and customary objects, was conducted with the same simple and silent
forms. But when the labours of the kind beings, who had performed these sad and
friendly offices, were so far completed, they hesitated, in a way to show, that
they knew not how much farther they might proceed. It was in this stage of the
rites, that the scout again addressed them--
“My young women have
done enough,” he said; “the spirit of a pale-face has no need of food or
raiment--their gifts being according to the heaven of their colour. I see,” he
added, glancing an eye at David, who was preparing his book in a manner that indicated
an intention to lead the way in sacred song, “that one who better knows the
Christian fashions is about to speak.”
The females stood
modestly aside, and, from having been the principal actors in the scene, they
now became the meek and attentive observers of that which followed. During the
time David was occupied in pouring out the pious feelings of his spirit in this
manner, not a sign of surprise, nor a look of impatience, escaped them. They
listened as though they knew the meaning of the strange words, and appeared as
if they felt the mingled emotions of sorrow, hope, and resignation, they were
intended to convey.
Excited by the scene he
had just witnessed, and perhaps influenced by his own secret emotions, the
master of song exceeded all his usual efforts. His full, rich, voice, was not
found to suffer by a comparison with the soft tones of the girls; and his more
modulated strains possessed, at least for the ears of those to whom they were
peculiarly addressed, the additional power of intelligence. He ended the
anthem, as he had commenced it, in the midst of a grave and solemn stillness.
When, however, the
closing cadence had fallen on the ears of his auditors, the secret, timorous
glances of the eyes, and the general, and yet subdued movement of the
assemblage, betrayed, that something was expected from the father of the
deceased. Munro seemed sensible that the time was come for him to exert what
is, perhaps, the greatest effort of which human nature is capable. He bared his
gray locks, and looked around the timid and quiet throng, by which he was
encircled, with a firm and collected countenance. Then motioning with his hand
for the scout to listen, he said--
“Say to these kind and
gentle females, that a heart-broken and failing man, returns them his thanks.
Tell them, that the Being we all worship, under different names, will be
mindful of their charity; and that the time shall not be distant, when we may
assemble around his throne, without distinction of sex, or rank, or colour!”
The scout listened to
the tremulous voice in which the veteran delivered these words, and shook his
head, slowly, when they were ended, as one who doubted of their efficacy.
“To tell them this,” he
said, “would be to tell them that the snows come not in the winter, or that the
sun shines fiercest when the trees are stripped of their leaves!”
Then turning to the
women, he made such a communication of the other’s gratitude, as he deemed most
suited to the capacities of his listeners. The head of Munro had already sunken
upon his chest, and he was again fast relapsing into his brooding melancholy,
when the young Frenchman before named, ventured to touch him lightly on the
elbow. As soon as he had gained the attention of the mourning old man, he
pointed towards a groupe of young Indians, who approached with a light, but
closely covered litter, and then pointed upward, impressively, towards the sun.
“I understand you, sir,”
returned Munro, with a voice of forced firmness; “I understand you. It is the
will of Heaven, and I submit. Cora, my child! if the prayers of a heart-broken
father could avail thee now, how blessed shouldst thou be! Come, gentlemen,” he
added, looking about him with an air of lofty composure, though the anguish
that quivered in his faded countenance was far too powerful to be entirely
concealed, “our duty here is ended; let us depart.”
Heyward gladly obeyed a
summons that took them from a spot, where, each instant, he felt his
self-control was about to desert him. While his companions were mounting,
however, he found time to press the hand of the scout, and to repeat the terms
of an engagement they had made, to meet again within the posts of the British
army. Then gladly throwing himself into the saddle, he spurred his charger to
the side of the litter, whence low and stifled sobs, alone announced the
presence of Alice. In this manner, the head of Munro again dropping on his
bosom, with Heyward and David following in sorrowing silence, and attended by
the Aide of Montcalm with his guard, all the white men, with the exception of
Hawk-eye, passed from before the eyes of the Delawares, and were soon buried in
the vast forests of that region.
But the tic which,
through their common calamity, had united the feelings of these simple dwellers
in the woods with the strangers who had thus transiently visited them, was not
so easily broken. Years passed away before the traditionary tale of the white
maiden, and of the young warrior of the Mohicans, ceased to beguile the long
nights and tedious marches of their weariness, or to animate their youthful and
brave with a desire for vengeance against their natural enemies. Neither were
the secondary actors in all these momentous incidents immediately forgotten.
Through the medium of the scout, who served for years afterwards, as a link
between them and civilized life, they learned, in answer to their inquiries,
that the “gray-head” was speedily gathered to his fathers--borne down, as was
erroneously believed, by his military misfortunes; and that the “open hand” had
conveyed his surviving daughter far into the settlements of the “pale-faces,”
where her tears had, at last, ceased to flow, and had been succeeded by the
bright smiles which were better suited to her happy and joyous nature.
But these were events
of a time later than that which concerns our tale. Deserted by all of his
colour, Hawk-eye returned to the spot where his own sympathies led him, with a
force that no ideal bond of union could bestow. He was just in time to catch a
parting look of the features of Uncas, whom the Delawares were already
enclosing in his last vestments of skins. They paused to permit the longing and
lingering gaze of the sturdy woodsman, and when it was ended, the body was
enveloped, never to be unclosed again. Then came a procession like the other,
and the whole nation was collected about the temporary grave of the
chief--temporary, because it was proper, that at some future day, his bones
should rest among those of his own people.
The movement, like the
feeling, had been simultaneous and general. The same grave expression of grief,
the same rigid silence, and the same deference to the principal mourner, were
observed, around the place of interment, as have been already described. The
body was deposited, in an attitude of repose, facing the rising sun, with the
implements of war and of the chase at hand, in readiness for the final journey.
An opening was left in the shell, by which it was protected from the soil, for
the spirit to communicate with its earthly tenement, when necessary; and the
whole was concealed from the instinct, and protected from the ravages of the
beasts of prey, with an ingenuity peculiar to the natives. The manual rites
then ceased, and all present reverted to the more spiritual part of the
ceremonies.
Chingachgook became,
once more, the object of the common attention. He had not yet spoken, and
something consolatory and instructive was expected from so renowned a chief, on
an occasion of such general interest. Conscious of the wishes of the people,
the stern and self-restrained warrior raised his face, which had latterly been
buried in his robe, and looked about him, with a steady eye. His firmly
compressed and expressive lips then severed, and for the first time during the
long ceremonies, his voice was heard, distinctly audible.
“Why do my brothers
mourn!” he said, regarding the dark race of dejected warriors, by whom he was
environed; “why do my daughters weep! that a young man has gone to the happy
hunting grounds! that a chief has filled his time with honour! He was good. He
was dutiful. He was brave. Who can deny it? The Manitto had need of such a
warrior, and he has called him away. As for me, the son and the father of
Uncas, I am a ‘blazed pine, in a clearing of the pale-faces.’ My race has gone
from the shores of the salt lake, and the hills of the Delawares. But who can
say that the serpent of his tribe has forgotten his wisdom! I am alone--”
“No, no,” cried
Hawk-eye, who had been gazing with a yearning look at the rigid features of his
friend, with something like his own self-command, but whose philosophy could
endure no longer; “no, Sagamore, not alone. The gifts of our colours may be
different, but God has so placed us as to journey in the same path. I have no
kin, and I may also say, like you, no people. He was your son, and a red-skin
by nature; and it may be, that your blood was nearer;--but if ever I forget the
lad, who has so often fou’t at my side in war, and slept at my side in peace,
may He who made us all, whatever may be our colour or our gifts, forget me. The
boy has left us for a time, but, Sagamore, you are not alone!”
Chingachgook grasped
the hands that, in the warmth of his feeling, the scout had stretched across
the fresh earth, and in that attitude of friendship, these two sturdy and
intrepid woodsmen bowed their heads together, while scalding tears fell to
their feet, watering the grave of Uncas, like drops of falling rain.
In the midst of the
awful stillness with which such a burst of feeling, coming, as it did, from the
two most renowned warriors of that region, was received, Tamenund lifted his
voice, to disperse the multitude.
“It is enough!” he
said. “Go, children of the Lenape; the anger of the Manitto is not done. Why
should Tamenund stay? The pale-faces are masters of the earth, and the time of
the red-men has not yet come again. My day has been too long. In the morning I
saw the sons of Unâmis happy and strong; and yet, before the night has come,
have I lived to see the last warrior of the wise race of the Mohicans!”
THE END.