The Last of the Mohicans; A narrative of 1757
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 he 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 moaning 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.
Hawkeye 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 eye riveted. Then it was he
discovered that the form of Uncas 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 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 think that Montcalm has not called off all his Indians? Let us give
the alarm to our companions, that we may stand to our arms. Here are five of
us, who are not unused to meet an enemy.”
“Not a word to either, as you value your 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 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 anxiety 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 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 had heard the warning of the animal whose name he bore, he arose
to an upright position, and his dark eyes glanced swiftly and keenly on every
side of him. With his sudden and, perhaps, involuntary movement, every
appearance of surprise or alarm 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 Hawkeye, pressing the arm of
Heyward; “he knows that a look or a motion might disconsart our schemes,
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 meantime, the scout had thrown forward his
rifle, like one prepared for 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 Hawkeye pointed out the “scampering of the wolves,” as
they fled precipitately before the passage of some intruder on their proper
domains. After an impatient and breathless pause, a plunge was heard in the
water, and it was immediately followed 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 across his arm again, and following Chingachgook, who just
then reappeared within the circle of light, into the bosom of the work.
“How is it, Sagamore? Are the Mingoes upon us in earnest, or is it only
one of those reptiles 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 Hawkeye, 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
scrimmage. 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 reason. The
varlet sent his lead within whistle of your ears, Sagamore.”
Chingachgook turned a calm and incurious eye toward 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 moments 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
endeavored 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 probably 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 skirt, and quietly exposed the
fatal tuft of hair, which he bore as the symbol of victory. Chingachgook laid
his hand on the scalp, and considered it for a moment with deep attention. Then
dropping it, with disgust depicted in his strong features, he ejaculated:
“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 in uncommon earnestness to regard the bloody badge. “By
the Lord, if the Oneidas are outlying upon the trail, we shall by 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
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 the 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 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 consort much with a people,” continued Hawkeye,
“if they were 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 everything 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, 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
color and my religion, though I will just repeat, it may have been owing to the