The Last of the Mohicans; A narrative of 1757
reached the portage at all, a thing by no means probable, as our scouts are
abroad, they will surely be found skirting the column, where scalps abound the
most. The route of the detachment is known, while ours, having been determined
within the hour, must still be secret.”
“Should we distrust the man because his manners are not our manners, and
that his skin is dark?” coldly asked Cora.
Alice hesitated no longer; but giving her Narrangansett[1]
a smart cut of the whip, she was the first to dash aside the slight branches of
the bushes, and to follow the runner along the dark and tangled pathway. The
young man regarded the last speaker in open admiration, and even permitted her
fairer, though certainly not more beautiful companion, to proceed unattended,
while he sedulously opened the way himself for the passage of her who has been
called Cora. It would seem that the domestics had been previously instructed;
for, instead of penetrating the thicket, they followed the route of the column;
a measure which Heyward stated had been dictated by the sagacity of their
guide, in order to diminish the marks of their trail, if, haply, the Canadian
savages should be lurking so far in advance of their army. For many minutes the
intricacy of the route admitted of no further dialogue; after which they
emerged from the broad border of underbrush which grew along the line of the
highway, and entered under the high but dark arches of the forest. Here their
progress was less interrupted; and the instant the guide perceived that the
females could command their steeds, he moved on, at a pace between a trot and a
walk, and at a rate which kept the sure-footed and peculiar animals they rode
at a fast yet easy amble. The youth had turned to speak to the dark-eyed Cora,
when the distant sound of horses hoofs, clattering over the roots of the broken
way in his rear, caused him to check his charger; and, as his companions drew
their reins at the same instant, the whole party came to a halt, in order to
obtain an explanation of the unlooked-for interruption.
[1]
In the state of Rhode Island there is a bay called Narragansett, so named
after a powerful tribe of Indians, which formerly dwelt on its banks. Accident,
or one of those unaccountable freaks which nature sometimes plays in the animal
world, gave rise to a breed of horses which were once well known in America,
and distinguished by their habit of pacing. Horses of this race were, and are
still, in much request as saddle horses, on account of their hardiness and the
ease of their movements. As they were also sure of foot, the Narragansetts were
greatly sought for by females who were obliged to travel over the roots and
holes in the “new countries.”
In a few moments a colt was seen gliding, like a fallow deer, among the
straight trunks of the pines; and, in another instant, the person of the
ungainly man, described in the preceding chapter, came into view, with as much
rapidity as he could excite his meager beast to endure without coming to an
open rupture. Until now this personage had escaped the observation of the
travelers. If he possessed the power to arrest any wandering eye when
exhibiting the glories of his altitude on foot, his equestrian graces were
still more likely to attract attention.
Notwithstanding a constant application of his one armed heel to the flanks of
the mare, the most confirmed gait that he could establish was a Canterbury
gallop with the hind legs, in which those more forward assisted for doubtful
moments, though generally content to maintain a loping trot. Perhaps the
rapidity of the changes from one of these paces to the other created an optical
illusion, which might thus magnify the powers of the beast; for it is certain
that Heyward, who possessed a true eye for the merits of a horse, was unable,
with his utmost ingenuity, to decide by what sort of movement his pursuer
worked his sinuous way on his footsteps with such persevering hardihood.
The industry and movements of the rider were not less remarkable than those of
the ridden. At each change in the evolutions of the latter, the former raised
his tall person in the stirrups; producing, in this manner, by the undue
elongation of his legs, such sudden growths and diminishings of the stature, as
baffled every conjecture that might be made as to his dimensions. If to this be
added the fact that, in consequence of the ex parte application of the spur,
one side of the mare appeared to journey faster than the other; and that the
aggrieved flank was resolutely indicated by unremitted flourishes of a bushy
tail, we finish the picture of both horse and man.
The frown which had gathered around the handsome, open, and manly brow of
Heyward, gradually relaxed, and his lips curled into a slight smile, as he
regarded the stranger. Alice made no very powerful effort to control her
merriment; and even the dark, thoughtful eye of Cora lighted with a humor that
it would seem, the habit, rather than the nature, of its mistress repressed.
“Seek you any here?” demanded Heyward, when the other had arrived
sufficiently nigh to abate his speed; “I trust you are no messenger of
evil tidings?”
“Even so,” replied the stranger, making diligent use of his
triangular castor, to produce a circulation in the close air of the woods, and
leaving his hearers in doubt to which of the young man’s questions he
responded; when, however, he had cooled his face, and recovered his breath, he
continued, “I hear you are riding to William Henry; as I am journeying
thitherward myself, I concluded good company would seem consistent to the
wishes of both parties.”
“You appear to possess the privilege of a casting vote,” returned
Heyward; “we are three, while you have consulted no one but
yourself.”
“Even so. The first point to be obtained is to know one’s own mind.
Once sure of that, and where women are concerned it is not easy, the next is,
to act up to the decision. I have endeavored to do both, and here I am.”
“If you journey to the lake, you have mistaken your route,” said
Heyward, haughtily; “the highway thither is at least half a mile behind
you.”
“Even so,” returned the stranger, nothing daunted by this cold
reception; “I have tarried at ‘Edward’ a week, and I should
be dumb not to have inquired the road I was to journey; and if dumb there would
be an end to my calling.” After simpering in a small way, like one whose
modesty prohibited a more open expression of his admiration of a witticism that
was perfectly unintelligible to his hearers, he continued, “It is not
prudent for any one of my profession to be too familiar with those he has to
instruct; for which reason I follow not the line of the army; besides which, I
conclude that a gentleman of your character has the best judgment in matters of
wayfaring; I have, therefore, decided to join company, in order that the ride
may be made agreeable, and partake of social communion.”
“A most arbitrary, if not a hasty decision!” exclaimed Heyward,
undecided whether to give vent to his growing anger, or to laugh in the
other’s face. “But you speak of instruction, and of a profession;
are you an adjunct to the provincial corps, as a master of the noble science of
defense and offense; or, perhaps, you are one who draws lines and angles, under
the pretense of expounding the mathematics?”
The stranger regarded his interrogator a moment in wonder; and then, losing
every mark of self-satisfaction in an expression of solemn humility, he
answered:
“Of offense, I hope there is none, to either party: of defense, I make
none—by God’s good mercy, having committed no palpable sin since
last entreating his pardoning grace. I understand not your allusions about
lines and angles; and I leave expounding to those who have been called and set
apart for that holy office. I lay claim to no higher gift than a small insight
into the glorious art of petitioning and thanksgiving, as practiced in
psalmody.”
“The man is, most manifestly, a disciple of Apollo,” cried the
amused Alice, “and I take him under my own especial protection. Nay,
throw aside that frown, Heyward, and in pity to my longing ears, suffer him to
journey in our train. Besides,” she added, in a low and hurried voice,
casting a glance at the distant Cora, who slowly followed the footsteps of
their silent, but sullen guide, “it may be a friend added to our
strength, in time of need.”
“Think you, Alice, that I would trust those I love by this secret path,
did I imagine such need could happen?”
“Nay, nay, I think not of it now; but this strange man amuses me; and if
he ‘hath music in his soul’, let us not churlishly reject his
company.” She pointed persuasively along the path with her riding whip,
while their eyes met in a look which the young man lingered a moment to
prolong; then, yielding to her gentle influence, he clapped his spurs into his
charger, and in a few bounds was again at the side of Cora.
“I am glad to encounter thee, friend,” continued the maiden, waving
her hand to the stranger to proceed, as she urged her Narragansett to renew its
amble. “Partial relatives have almost persuaded me that I am not entirely
worthless in a duet myself; and we may enliven our wayfaring by indulging in
our favorite pursuit. It might be of signal advantage to one, ignorant as I, to
hear the opinions and experience of a master in the art.”
“It is refreshing both to the spirits and to the body to indulge in
psalmody, in befitting seasons,” returned the master of song,
unhesitatingly complying with her intimation to follow; “and nothing
would relieve the mind more than such a consoling communion. But four parts are
altogether necessary to the perfection of melody. You have all the
manifestations of a soft and rich treble; I can, by especial aid, carry a full
tenor to the highest letter; but we lack counter and bass! Yon officer of the
king, who hesitated to admit me to his company, might fill the latter, if one
may judge from the intonations of his voice in common dialogue.”
“Judge not too rashly from hasty and deceptive appearances,” said
the lady, smiling; “though Major Heyward can assume such deep notes on
occasion, believe me, his natural tones are better fitted for a mellow tenor
than the bass you heard.”
“Is he, then, much practiced in the art of psalmody?” demanded her
simple companion.
Alice felt disposed to laugh, though she succeeded in suppressing her
merriment, ere she answered:
“I apprehend that he is rather addicted to profane song. The chances of a
soldier’s life are but little fitted for the encouragement of more sober
inclinations.”
“Man’s voice is given to him, like his other talents, to be used,
and not to be abused. None can say they have ever known me to neglect my gifts!
I am thankful that, though my boyhood may be said to have been set apart, like
the youth of the royal David, for the purposes of music, no syllable of rude
verse has ever profaned my lips.”
“You have, then, limited your efforts to sacred song?”
“Even so. As the psalms of David exceed all other language, so does the
psalmody that has been fitted to them by the divines and sages of the land,
surpass all vain poetry. Happily, I may say that I utter nothing but the
thoughts and the wishes of the King of Israel himself; for though the times may
call for some slight changes, yet does this version which we use in the
colonies of New England so much exceed all other versions, that, by its
richness, its exactness, and its spiritual simplicity, it approacheth, as near
as may be, to the great work of the inspired writer. I never abide in any
place, sleeping or waking, without an example of this gifted work. ’Tis
the six-and-twentieth edition, promulgated at Boston, Anno Domini 1744; and is