The Last of the Mohicans; A narrative of 1757
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 a 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 to 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 the scrimmage, 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
war-whoop of the Mohicans, and then lent his 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
“killdeer” in his left hand, and elevating it about 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 Hawkeye’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
‘killdeer’ 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 Hawkeye 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 ‘killdeer’ 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 labor, 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 toward 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. Hawkeye and
Heyward ascended an adjacent bluff, where the former, after considering the
expanse of water beneath him, pointed out to the latter a small black object,
hovering under a headland, 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 take
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.”
Hawkeye moved away from the lookout, 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 the water-course, which they crossed, and, continuing 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 backward, 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 headland, 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, favored by the darkness, pushed