The Last of the Mohicans; A narrative of 1757
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, 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 color of a
bear.”
“The stranger and white maiden that come into my camp together?”
“Should journey on an open path.”
“And the woman that 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, endeavoring to read the
expression of the face that the youth turned from him in sorrow.
“It is so,” was the low answer.
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 toward
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 Manitou 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 Hawkeye, 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 favor 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 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 toward quitting
the place with his victim.
“No, no; I have not said so much as that,” returned Hawkeye,
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, 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 ‘killdeer’ 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 smoothe 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 Hawkeye,
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, and then instantly changing its
direction again, with a wistful look toward the youth; “I loved both you
and your father, Uncas, though our skins are not altogether of a color, 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 don’t deny you the use of vengeance,
use it a little freely on the Mingoes; it may unburden griefs at my loss, and
ease your mind. Huron, I accept your offer; release the woman. 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 forever.
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 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 Hawkeye, 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 word 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 feeling 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 kind, gentle, sweet, 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 pure and spotless as her skin! I could say much—more,
perhaps, than cooler reason would approve; but I will spare 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 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 words are open,” he was content with answering,
“‘The Open Hand’ can come.”
“Hold,” cried Hawkeye, 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 Manitou. 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!