The Last of the Mohicans; A narrative of 1757
savored 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 a 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 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 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 ardor of the lover to expend
itself a little, found means to convince him of the folly of precipitation, in
a manner 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 whip-poor-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 Hawkeye; “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
everything to rescue her I love. Name your objections no longer: I am
resolved.”
Hawkeye 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 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 anything—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
became imposing under its influence. Hawkeye, though too much accustomed to
Indian artifices not to foresee 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
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 humor suddenly altered, and he lent himself to its execution.
“Come,” he said, with a good-humored 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 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; 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 inquires 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 inmates, that even the brutes of these vast
wilds were possessed of an instinct nearly commensurate with his own 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 was forgotten. Cheering
David, he moved on with the light and vigorous step of youth and enterprise.
After making nearly a semicircle 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