prompt:
Chapter: "If you find a man there, he shall die a flea's death."

  _Merry Wives of Windsor._

The party had landed on the border of a region that is, even to this
day, less known to the inhabitants of the States, than the deserts of
Arabia, or the steppes of Tartary. It was the sterile and rugged
district which separates the tributaries of Champlain from those of the
Hudson, the Mohawk, and the St. Lawrence. Since the period of our tale,
the active spirit of the country has surrounded it with a belt of rich
and thriving settlements, though none but the hunter or the savage is
ever known, even now, to penetrate its wild recesses.

As Hawkeye and the Mohicans had, however, often traversed the mountains
and valleys of this vast wilderness, they did not hesitate to plunge
into its depths, with the freedom of men accustomed to its privations
and difficulties. For many hours the travellers toiled on their
laborious way, guided by a star, or following the direction of some
water-course, until the scout called a halt, and holding a short
consultation with the Indians, they lighted their fire, and made the
usual preparations to pass the remainder of the night where they then
were.

Imitating the example, and emulating the confidence, of their more
experienced associates, Munro and Duncan slept without fear, if not
without uneasiness. The dews were suffered to exhale, and the sun
dispersed the mists, and was shedding a strong and clear light in the
forest, when the travellers resumed their journey.

After proceeding a few miles, the progress of Hawkeye, who led the
advance, became more deliberate and watchful. He often stopped to
examine the trees; nor did he cross a rivulet, without attentively
considering the quantity, the velocity, and the color of its waters.
Distrusting his own judgment his appeals to the opinion of Chingachgook
were frequent and earnest. During one of these conferences, Heyward
observed that Uncas stood a patient and silent, though, as he imagined,
an interested listener. He was strongly tempted to address the young
chief, and demand his opinion of their progress; but the calm and
dignified demeanor of the native induced him to believe that, like
himself, the other was wholly dependent on the sagacity and intelligence
of the seniors of the party. At last, the scout spoke in English, and at
once explained the embarrassment of their situation.

"When I found that the home path of the Hurons run north," he said, "it
did not need the judgment of many long years to tell that they would
follow the valleys, and keep atween the waters of the Hudson and the
Horican, until they might strike the springs of the Canada streams,
which would lead them into the heart of the country of the Frenchers.
Yet here are we, within a short range of the Scaroon, and not a sign of
a trail have we crossed! Human natur' is weak, and it is possible we may
not have taken the proper scent."

"Heaven protect us from such an error!" exclaimed Duncan. "Let us
retrace our steps, and examine as we go, with keener eyes. Has Uncas no
counsel to offer in such a strait?"

The young Mohican cast a glance at his father, but maintaining his quiet
and reserved mien, he continued silent. Chingachgook had caught the
look, and motioning with his hand, he bade him speak. The moment this
permission was accorded, the countenance of Uncas changed from its grave
composure to a gleam of intelligence and joy. Bounding forward like a
deer, he sprang up the side of a little acclivity, a few rods in
advance, and stood exultingly over a spot of fresh earth that looked as
though it had been recently upturned by the passage of some heavy
animal. The eyes of the whole party followed the unexpected movement,
and read their success in the air of triumph that the youth assumed.

"'Tis the trail!" exclaimed the scout, advancing to the spot: "the lad
is quick of sight and keen of wit for his years."

"'Tis extraordinary that he should have withheld his knowledge so long,"
muttered Duncan, at his elbow.

"It would have been more wonderful had he spoken without a bidding. No,
no; your young white, who gathers his learning from books and can
measure what he knows by the page, may conceit that his knowledge, like
his legs, outruns that of his father; but where experience is the
master, the scholar is made to know the value of years, and respects
them accordingly."

"See!" said Uncas, pointing north and south, at the evident marks of
the broad trail on either side of him: "the dark-hair has gone towards
the frost."

"Hound never ran on a more beautiful scent," responded the scout,
dashing forward, at once, on the indicated route; "we are favored,
greatly favored, and can follow with high noses. Ay, here are both your
waddling beasts: this Huron travels like a white general. The fellow is
stricken with a judgment, and is mad! Look sharp for wheels, Sagamore,"
he continued, looking back, and laughing in his newly awakened
satisfaction; "we shall soon have the fool journeying in a coach, and
that with three of the best pair of eyes on the borders, in his rear."

The spirits of the scout, and the astonishing success of the chase, in
which a circuitous distance of more than forty miles had been passed,
did not fail to impart a portion of hope to the whole party. Their
advance was rapid; and made with as much confidence as a traveller would
proceed along a wide highway. If a rock, or a rivulet, or a bit of earth
harder than common, severed the links of the clue they followed, the
true eye of the scout recovered them at a distance, and seldom rendered
the delay of a single moment necessary. Their progress was much
facilitated by the certainty that Magua had found it necessary to
journey through the valleys; a circumstance which rendered the general
direction of the route sure. Nor had the Huron entirely neglected the
arts uniformly practised by the natives when retiring in front of any
enemy. False trails, and sudden turnings, were frequent, wherever a
brook, or the formation of the ground, rendered them feasible; but his
pursuers were rarely deceived, and never failed to detect their error,
before they had lost either time or distance on the deceptive track.

By the middle of the afternoon they had passed the Scaroon, and were
following the route of the declining sun. After descending an eminence
to a low bottom, through which a stream glided, they suddenly came to a
place where the party of Le Renard had made a halt. Extinguished brands
were lying around a spring, the offals of a deer were scattered about
the place, and the trees bore evident marks of having been browsed by
the horses. At a little distance, Heyward discovered, and contemplated
with tender emotion, the small bower under which he was fain to believe
that Cora and Alice had reposed. But while the earth was trodden, and
the footsteps of both men and beasts were so plainly visible around the
place, the trail appeared to have suddenly ended.

It was easy to follow the track of the Narragansetts, but they seemed
only to have wandered without guides, or any other object than the
pursuit of food. At length Uncas, who, with his father, had endeavored
to trace the route of the horses, came upon a sign of their presence
that was quite recent. Before following the clue, he communicated his
success to his companions; and while the latter were consulting on the
circumstance, the youth reappeared, leading the two fillies, with their
saddles broken, and the housings soiled, as though they had been
permitted to run at will for several days.

"What should this mean?" said Duncan, turning pale, and glancing his
eyes around him, as if he feared the brush and leaves were about to give
up some horrid secret.

"That our march is come to a quick end, and that we are in an enemy's
country," returned the scout. "Had the knaves been pressed, and the
gentle ones wanted horses to keep up with the party, he might have taken
their scalps; but without an enemy at his heels, and with such rugged
beasts as these, he would not hurt a hair of their heads. I know your
thoughts, and shame be it to our color that you have reason for them;
but he who thinks that even a Mingo would ill-treat a woman, unless it
be to tomahawk her, knows nothing of Indian natur', or the laws of the
woods. No, no; I have heard that the French Indians had come into these
hills, to hunt the moose, and we are getting within scent of their camp.
Why should they not? the morning and evening guns of Ty may be heard any
day among these mountains; for the Frenchers are running a new line
atween the provinces of the king and the Canadas. It is true that the
horses are here, but the Hurons are gone; let us then hunt for the path
by which they departed."

Hawkeye and the Mohicans now applied themselves to their task in good
earnest. A circle of a few hundred feet in circumference was drawn, and
each of the party took a segment for his portion. The examination,
however, resulted in no discovery. The impressions of footsteps were
numerous, but they all appeared like those of men who had wandered about
the spot, without any design to quit it. Again the scout and his
companions made the circuit of the halting-place, each slowly following
the other, until they assembled in the centre once more, no wiser than
when they started.

"Such cunning is not without its deviltry," exclaimed Hawkeye, when he
met the disappointed looks of his assistants.

"We must get down to it, Sagamore, beginning at the spring, and going
over the ground by inches. The Huron shall never brag in his tribe that
he has a foot which leaves no print."

Setting the example himself, the scout engaged in the scrutiny with
renewed zeal. Not a leaf was left unturned. The sticks were removed, and
the stones lifted; for Indian cunning was known frequently to adopt
these objects as covers, laboring with the utmost patience and industry,
to conceal each footstep as they proceeded. Still no discovery was made.
At length Uncas, whose activity had enabled him to achieve his portion
of the task the soonest, raked the earth across the turbid little rill
which ran from the spring, and diverted its course into another channel.
So soon as its narrow bed below the dam was dry, he stooped over it with
keen and curious eyes. A cry of exultation immediately announced the
success of the young warrior. The whole party crowded to the spot where
Uncas pointed out the impression of a moccasin in the moist alluvion.

"The lad will be an honor to his people," said Hawkeye, regarding the
trail with as much admiration as a naturalist would expend on the tusk
of a mammoth or the rib of a mastodon; "ay, and a thorn in the sides of
the Hurons. Yet that is not the footstep of an Indian! the weight is too
much on the heel, and the toes are squared, as though one of the French
dancers had been in, pigeon-winging his tribe! Run back, Uncas, and
bring me the size of the singer's foot. You will find a beautiful print
of it just opposite yon rock, agin the hillside."

While the youth was engaged in this commission, the scout and
Chingachgook were attentively considering the impressions. The
measurements agreed, and the former unhesitatingly pronounced that the
footstep was that of David, who had once more, been made to exchange his
shoes for moccasins.

"I can now read the whole of it, as plainly as if I had seen the arts of
Le Subtil," he added; "the singer, being a man whose gifts lay chiefly
in his throat and feet, was made to go first, and the others have trod
in his steps, imitating their formation."

"But," cried Duncan, "I see no signs of--"

"The gentle ones," interrupted the scout; "the varlet has found a way to
carry them, until he supposed he had thrown any followers off the scent.
My life on it, we see their pretty little feet again, before many rods
go by."

The whole party now proceeded, following the course of the rill, keeping
anxious eyes on the regular impressions. The water soon flowed into its
bed again, but watching the ground on either side, the foresters pursued
their way content with knowing that the trail lay beneath. More than
half a mile was passed, before the rill rippled close around the base of
an extensive and dry rock. Here they paused to make sure that the Hurons
had not quitted the water.

It was fortunate they did so. For the quick and active Uncas soon found
the impression of a foot on a bunch of moss, where it would seem an
Indian had inadvertently trodden. Pursuing the direction given by this
discovery, he entered the neighboring thicket, and struck the trail, as
fresh and obvious as it had been before they reached the spring. Another
shout announced the good fortune of the youth to his companions, and at
once terminated the search.

"Ay, it has been planned with Indian judgment," said the scout, when the
party was assembled around the place; "and would have blinded white
eyes."

"Shall we proceed?" demanded Heyward.

"Softly, softly: we know our path; but it is good to examine the
formation of things. This is my schooling, major; and if one neglects
the book, there is little chance of learning from the open hand of
Providence. All is plain but one thing, which is the manner that the
knave contrived to get the gentle ones along the blind trail. Even a
Huron would be too proud to let their tender feet touch the water."

"Will this assist in explaining the difficulty?" said Heyward, pointing
towards the fragments of a sort of handbarrow, that had been rudely
constructed of boughs, and bound together with withes, and which now
seemed carelessly cast aside as useless.

"'Tis explained!" cried the delighted Hawkeye. "If them varlets have
passed a minute, they have spent hours in striving to fabricate a lying
end to their trail! Well, I've known them to waste a day in the same
manner, to as little purpose. Here we have three pair of moccasins, and
two of little feet. It is amazing that any mortal beings can journey on
limbs so small! Pass me the thong of buckskin, Uncas, and let me take
the length of this foot. By the Lord, it is no longer than a child's and
yet the maidens are tall and comely. That Providence is partial in its
gifts, for its own wise reasons, the best and most contented of us must
allow."

"The tender limbs of my daughters are unequal to these hardships," said
Munro, looking at the light footsteps of his children, with a parent's
love: "we shall find their fainting forms in this desert."

"Of that there is little cause of fear," returned the scout, slowly
shaking his head; "this is a firm and straight, though a light step, and
not over long. See, the heel has hardly touched the ground; and there
the dark-hair has made a little jump, from root to root. No, no; my
knowledge for it, neither of them was nigh fainting, hereaway. Now, the
singer was beginning to be foot-sore and leg-weary as is plain by his
trail. There, you see, he slipped; here he has travelled wide, and
tottered; and there, again, it looks as though he journeyed on
snow-shoes. Ay, ay, a man who uses his throat altogether, can hardly
give his legs a proper training."

From such undeniable testimony did the practised woodsman arrive at the
truth, with nearly as much certainty and precision as if he had been a
witness of all those events which his ingenuity so easily elucidated.
Cheered by these assurances, and satisfied by a reasoning that was so
obvious, while it was so simple, the party resumed its course, after
making a short halt to take a hurried repast.

When the meal was ended, the scout cast a glance upwards at the setting
sun, and pushed forward with a rapidity which compelled Heyward and the
still vigorous Munro to exert all their muscles to equal. Their route
now lay along the bottom which had already been mentioned. As the Hurons
had made no further efforts to conceal their footsteps, the progress of
the pursuers was no longer delayed by uncertainty. Before an hour had
elapsed, however, the speed of Hawkeye sensibly abated, and his head,
instead of maintaining its former direct and forward look, began to turn
suspiciously from side to side, as if he were conscious of approaching
danger. He soon stopped again, and waited for the whole party to come
up.

"I scent the Hurons," he said, speaking to the Mohicans; "yonder is open
sky, through the tree-tops, and we are getting too nigh their
encampment. Sagamore, you will take the hillside, to the right; Uncas
will bend along the brook to the left, while I will try the trail. If
anything should happen, the call will be three croaks of a crow. I saw
one of the birds fanning himself in the air, just beyond the dead
oak--another sign that we are touching an encampment."

The Indians departed their several ways without reply, while Hawkeye
cautiously proceeded with the two gentlemen. Heyward soon pressed to the
side of their guide, eager to catch an early glimpse of those enemies he
had pursued with so much toil and anxiety. His companion told him to
steal to the edge of the wood, which, as usual, was fringed with a
thicket, and wait his coming, for he wished to examine certain
suspicious signs a little on one side. Duncan obeyed, and soon found
himself in a situation to command a view which he found as extraordinary
as it was novel.

The trees of many acres had been felled, and the glow of a mild summer's
evening had fallen on the clearing, in beautiful contrast to the gray
light of the forest. A short distance from the place where Duncan stood,
the stream had seemingly expanded into a little lake, covering most of
the low land, from mountain to mountain. The water fell out of this wide
basin, in a cataract so regular and gentle, that it appeared rather to
be the work of human hands, than fashioned by nature. A hundred earthen
dwellings stood on the margin of the lake, and even in its water, as
though the latter had overflowed its usual banks. Their rounded roofs,
admirably moulded for defence against the weather, denoted more of
industry and foresight than the natives were wont to bestow on their
regular habitations, much less on those they occupied for the temporary
purposes of hunting and war. In short, the whole village or town,
whichever it might be termed, possessed more of method and neatness of
execution, than the white men had been accustomed to believe belonged,
ordinarily, to the Indian habits. It appeared, however, to be deserted.
At least, so thought Duncan for many minutes; but, at length, he fancied
he discovered several human forms advancing towards him on all fours,
and apparently dragging in their train some heavy, and as he was quick
to apprehend, some formidable engine. Just then a few dark looking heads
gleamed out of the dwellings, and the place seemed suddenly alive with
beings, which, however, glided from cover to cover so swiftly, as to
allow no opportunity of examining their humors or pursuits. Alarmed at
these suspicious and inexplicable movements, he was about to attempt the
signal of the crows, when the rustling of leaves at hand drew his eyes
in another direction.

The young man started, and recoiled a few paces instinctively, when he
found himself within a hundred yards of a stranger Indian. Recovering
his recollection on the instant, instead of sounding an alarm, which
might prove fatal to himself, he remained stationary, an attentive
observer of the other's motions.

An instant of calm observation served to assure Duncan that he was
undiscovered. The native, like himself, seemed occupied in considering
the low dwellings of the village, and the stolen movements of its
inhabitants. It was impossible to discover the expression of his
features, through the grotesque mask of paint under which they were
concealed; though Duncan fancied it was rather melancholy than savage.
His head was shaved, as usual, with the exception of the crown, from
whose tuft three or four faded feathers from a hawk's wing were loosely
dangling. A ragged calico mantle half-encircled his body, while his
nether garment was composed of an ordinary shirt, the sleeves of which
were made to perform the office that is usually executed by a much more
commodious arrangement. His legs were bare, and sadly cut and torn by
briers. The feet were, however, covered with a pair of good deer-skin
moccasins. Altogether, the appearance of the individual was forlorn and
miserable.

Duncan was still curiously observing the person of his neighbor, when
the scout stole silently and cautiously to his side.

"You see we have reached their settlement or encampment," whispered the
young man; "and here is one of the savages himself, in a very
embarrassing position for our further movements."

Hawkeye started, and dropped his rifle, directed by the finger of his
companion, the stranger came under his view. Then lowering the dangerous
muzzle, he stretched forward his long neck, as if to assist a scrutiny
that was already intensely keen.

"The imp is not a Huron," he said, "nor of any of the Canada tribes; and
yet you see, by his clothes, the knave has been plundering a white. Ay,
Montcalm has raked the woods for his inroad, and a whooping, murdering
set of varlets has he gathered together. Can you see where he has put
his rifle or his bow?"

"He appears to have no arms; nor does he seem to be viciously inclined.
Unless he communicate the alarm to his fellows, who as you see are
dodging about the water, we have but little to fear from him."

The scout turned to Heyward, and regarded him a moment with unconcealed
amazement. Then opening wide his mouth, he indulged in unrestrained and
heartfelt laughter, though in that silent and peculiar manner which
danger had so long taught him to practise.

Repeating the words, "fellows who are dodging about the water!" he
added, "so much for schooling and passing a boyhood in the settlements!
The knave has long legs, though, and shall not be trusted. Do you keep
him under your rifle while I creep in behind, through the bush, and take
him alive. Fire on no account."

Heyward had already permitted his companion to bury part of his person
in the thicket, when, stretching forth an arm, he arrested him, in order
to ask,--

"If I see you in danger, may I not risk a shot?"

Hawkeye regarded him a moment, like one who knew not how to take the
question; then nodding his head, he answered, still laughing, though
inaudibly,--

"Fire a whole platoon, major."

In the next moment he was concealed by the leaves. Duncan waited several
minutes in feverish impatience, before he caught another glimpse of the
scout. Then he reappeared, creeping along the earth, from which his
dress was hardly distinguishable, directly in the rear of his intended
captive. Having reached within a few yards of the latter, he arose to
his feet, silently and slowly. At that instant, several loud blows were
struck on the water, and Duncan turned his eyes just in time to perceive
that a hundred dark forms were plunging, in a body, into the troubled
little sheet. Grasping his rifle, his looks were again bent on the
Indian near him. Instead of taking the alarm, the unconscious savage
stretched forward his neck, as if he also watched the movements about
the gloomy lake, with a sort of silly curiosity. In the meantime, the
uplifted hand of Hawkeye was above him. But, without any apparent
reason, it was withdrawn, and its owner indulged in another long, though
still silent, fit of merriment. When the peculiar and hearty laughter of
Hawkeye was ended, instead of grasping his victim by the throat, he
tapped him lightly on the shoulder, and exclaimed aloud,--

"How now, friend! have you a mind to teach the beavers to sing?"

"Even so," was the ready answer. "It would seem that the Being that gave
them power to improve his gifts so well, would not deny them voices to
proclaim his praise."

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Uncas finds a trail, and the men follow it, hoping it will lead them to the women. The trail peters out and the party nearly gives up hope, but Uncas manages to divert the course of a small stream, revealing a hidden footprint in the sand bed. According to Hawkeye, the footprint indicates that Magua abandoned the horses upon reaching Huron territory. The men reluctantly enter the enemy territory and travel past a beaver pond, whose dams Heyward mistakes for Indian wigwams. An Indian appears in the forest. Ready for battle, Hawkeye nearly kills the Indian but soon recognizes the stranger as Gamut, painted as an Indian with only a scalping tuft of hair on his head


prompt:
Chapter: _"Bot._--Are we all met?"

  _"Qui._--Pat--pat; and here's a marvellous
  Convenient place for our rehearsal."

  _Midsummer Night's Dream._

The reader may better imagine, than we describe, the surprise of
Heyward. His lurking Indians were suddenly converted into four-footed
beasts; his lake into a beaver pond; his cataract into a dam,
constructed by those industrious and ingenious quadrupeds; and a
suspected enemy into his tried friend, David Gamut, the master of
psalmody. The presence of the latter created so many unexpected hopes
relative to the sisters that, without a moment's hesitation, the young
man broke out of his ambush, and sprang forward to join the two
principal actors in the scene.

The merriment of Hawkeye was not easily appeased. Without ceremony, and
with a rough hand, he twirled the supple Gamut around on his heel, and
more than once affirmed that the Hurons had done themselves great credit
in the fashion of his costume. Then seizing the hand of the other, he
squeezed it with a gripe that brought the tears into the eyes of the
placid David, and wished him joy of his new condition.

"You were about opening your throat-practysings among the beavers, were
ye?" he said. "The cunning devils know half the trade already, for they
beat the time with their tails, as you heard just now; and in good time
it was too, or 'Killdeer' might have sounded the first note among them.
I have known greater fools, who could read and write, than an
experienced old beaver; but as for squalling, the animals are born dumb!
What think you of such a song as this?"

David shut his sensitive ears, and even Heyward, apprised as he was of
the nature of the cry, looked upwards in quest of the bird, as the
cawing of a crow rang in the air about them.

"See!" continued the laughing scout, as he pointed towards the remainder
of the party, who, in obedience to the signal, were already
approaching: "this is music which has its natural virtues; it brings two
good rifles to my elbow, to say nothing of the knives and tomahawks. But
we see that you are safe; now tell us what has become of the maidens."

"They are captives to the heathen," said David; "and though greatly
troubled in spirit, enjoying comfort and safety in the body."

"Both?" demanded the breathless Heyward.

"Even so. Though our wayfaring has been sore and our sustenance scanty,
we have had little other cause for complaint, except the violence done
our feelings, by being thus led in captivity into a far land."

"Bless ye for these very words!" exclaimed the trembling Munro; "I shall
then receive my babes spotless and angel-like, as I lost them!"

"I know not that their delivery is at hand," returned the doubting
David; "the leader of these savages is possessed of an evil spirit that
no power short of Omnipotence can tame. I have tried him sleeping and
waking, but neither sounds nor language seem to touch his soul."

"Where is the knave?" bluntly interrupted the scout.

"He hunts the moose to-day, with his young men; and to-morrow, as I
hear, they pass farther into these forests, and nigher to the borders of
Canada. The elder maiden is conveyed to a neighboring people, whose
lodges are situate beyond yonder black pinnacle of rock; while the
younger is detained among the women of the Hurons, whose dwellings are
but two short miles hence, on a table-land, where the fire has done the
office of the axe, and prepared the place for their reception."

"Alice, my gentle Alice!" murmured Heyward; "she has lost the
consolation of her sister's presence!"

"Even so. But so far as praise and thanksgiving in psalmody can temper
the spirit in affliction, she has not suffered."

"Has she then a heart for music?"

"Of the graver and more solemn character; though it must be acknowledged
that, in spite of all my endeavors, the maiden weeps oftener than she
smiles. At such moments I forbear to press the holy songs; but there are
many sweet and comfortable periods of satisfactory communication, when
the ears of the savages are astounded with the upliftings of our
voices."

"And why are you permitted to go at large, unwatched?"

David composed his features into what he intended should express an air
of modest humility, before he meekly replied--

"Little be the praise to such a worm as I. But, though the power of
psalmody was suspended in the terrible business of that field of blood
through which we passed, it has recovered its influence even over the
souls of the heathen, and I am suffered to go and come at will."

The scout laughed, and tapping his own forehead significantly, he
perhaps explained the singular indulgence more satisfactorily when he
said--

"The Indians never harm a non-composser. But why, when the path lay open
before your eyes, did you not strike back on your own trail (it is not
so blind as that which a squirrel would make), and bring in the tidings
to Edward?"

The scout, remembering only his own sturdy and iron nature, had probably
exacted a task that David, under no circumstances, could have performed.
But, without entirely losing the meekness of his air, the latter was
content to answer--

"Though my soul would rejoice to visit the habitations of Christendom
once more, my feet would rather follow the tender spirits intrusted to
my keeping, even into the idolatrous province of the Jesuits, than take
one step backward, while they pined in captivity and sorrow."

Though the figurative language of David was not very intelligible, the
sincere and steady expression of his eye, and the glow on his honest
countenance, were not easily mistaken. Uncas pressed closer to his side,
and regarded the speaker with a look of commendation, while his father
expressed his satisfaction by the ordinary pithy exclamation of
approbation. The scout shook his head as he rejoined--

"The Lord never intended that the man should place all his endeavors in
his throat, to the neglect of other and better gifts! But he has fallen
into the hands of some silly woman, when he should have been gathering
his education under a blue sky, among the beauties of the forest. Here,
friend; I did intend to kindle a fire with this tooting whistle of
thine; but as you value the thing, take it, and blow your best on it!"

Gamut received his pitch-pipe with as strong an expression of pleasure
as he believed compatible with the grave functions he exercised. After
essaying its virtues repeatedly, in contrast with his own voice, and
satisfying himself that none of its melody was lost, he made a very
serious demonstration towards achieving a few stanzas of one of the
longest effusions in the little volume so often mentioned.

Heyward, however, hastily interrupted his pious purpose, by continuing
questions concerning the past and present condition of his
fellow-captives, and in a manner more methodical than had been permitted
by his feelings in the opening of their interview. David, though he
regarded his treasure with longing eyes, was constrained to answer:
especially as the venerable father took a part in the interrogatories,
with an interest too imposing to be denied. Nor did the scout fail to
throw in a pertinent inquiry, whenever a fitting occasion presented. In
this manner, though with frequent interruptions, which were filled with
certain threatening sounds from the recovered instrument, the pursuers
were put in possession of such leading circumstances as were likely to
prove useful in accomplishing their great and engrossing object--the
recovery of the sisters. The narrative of David was simple, and the
facts but few.

Magua had waited on the mountain until a safe moment to retire presented
itself, when he had descended, and taken the route along the western
side of the Horican, in the direction of the Canadas. As the subtle
Huron was familiar with the paths, and well knew there was no immediate
danger of pursuit, their progress had been moderate, and far from
fatiguing. It appeared from the unembellished statement of David, that
his own presence had been rather endured than desired; though even Magua
had not been entirely exempt from that veneration with which the Indians
regard those whom the Great Spirit has visited in their intellects. At
night, the utmost care had been taken of the captives, both to prevent
injury from the damps of the woods, and to guard against an escape. At
the spring, the horses were turned loose, as has been seen; and
notwithstanding the remoteness and length of their trail, the artifices
already named were resorted to, in order to cut off every clue to their
place of retreat. On their arrival at the encampment of his people,
Magua, in obedience to a policy seldom departed from, separated his
prisoners. Cora had been sent to a tribe that temporarily occupied an
adjacent valley, though David was too ignorant of the customs and
history of the natives to be able to declare anything satisfactory
concerning their name or character. He only knew that they had not
engaged in the late expedition against William Henry; that, like the
Hurons themselves, they were allies of Montcalm; and that they
maintained an amicable, though a watchful intercourse with the warlike
and savage people, whom chance had, for a time, brought in such close
and disagreeable contact with themselves.

The Mohicans and the scout listened to his interrupted and imperfect
narrative, with an interest that obviously increased as he proceeded;
and it was while attempting to explain the pursuits of the community in
which Cora was detained, that the latter abruptly demanded--

"Did you see the fashion of their knives? Were they of English or French
formation?"

"My thoughts were bent on no such vanities, but rather mingled in
consolation with those of the maidens."

"The time may come when you will not consider the knife of a savage such
a despisable vanity," returned the scout, with a strong expression of
contempt for the other's dulness. "Had they held their corn-feast--or
can you say anything of the totems of the tribe?"

"Of corn, we had many and plentiful feasts; for the grain, being in the
milk, is both sweet to the mouth and comfortable to the stomach. Of
totem, I know not the meaning; but if it appertaineth in any wise to the
art of Indian music, it need not be inquired after at their hands. They
never join their voices in praise, and it would seem that they are among
the profanest of the idolatrous."

"Therein you belie the nature of an Indian. Even the Mingo adores but
the true and living God. 'Tis a wicked fabrication of the whites, and I
say it to the shame of my color, that would make the warrior bow down
before images of his own creation. It is true, they endeavor to make
truces with the wicked one--as who would not with an enemy he cannot
conquer!--but they look up for favor and assistance to the Great and
Good Spirit only."

"It may be so," said David; "but I have seen strange and fantastic
images drawn in their paint, of which their admiration and care 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 an 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 a 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 matter 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 whippoorwill?"

"'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
whippoorwill'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 pervert
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 inquiries 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 little attention to neatness or beauty. Indeed, so
very inferior were they in the two latter particulars to the village
Duncan had just seen, that he began to expect a second surprise, no less
astonishing than the former. This expectation was in no degree
diminished, when, by the doubtful twilight, he beheld twenty or thirty
forms rising alternately from the cover of the tall, coarse grass, in
front of the lodges, and then sinking again from the sight, as it were
to burrow in the earth. By the sudden and hasty glimpses that he caught
of these figures, they seemed more like dark glancing spectres, or some
other unearthly beings, than creatures fashioned with the ordinary and
vulgar materials of flesh and blood. A gaunt, naked form was seen, for a
single instant, tossing its arms wildly in the air, and then the spot it
had filled was vacant; the figure appearing suddenly in some other and
distant place, or being succeeded by another, possessing the same
mysterious character. David, observing that his companion lingered,
pursued the direction of his gaze, and in some measure recalled the
recollection of Heyward, by speaking.

"There is much fruitful soil uncultivated here," he said; "and I may
add, without the sinful leaven of self-commendation, that since my short
sojourn in these heathenish abodes, much good seed has been scattered by
the wayside."

"The tribes are fonder of the chase than of the arts of men of labor,"
returned the unconscious Duncan, still gazing at the objects of his
wonder.

"It is rather joy than labor to the spirit, to lift up the voice in
praise; but sadly do these boys abuse their gifts. Rarely have I found
any of their age, on whom nature has so freely bestowed the elements of
psalmody; and surely, surely, there are none who neglect them more.
Three nights have I now tarried here, and three several times have I
assembled the urchins to join in sacred song; and as often have they
responded to my efforts with whoopings and howlings that have chilled my
soul!"

"Of whom speak you?"

"Of those children of the devil, who waste the precious moments in
yonder idle antics. Ah! the wholesome restraint of discipline is but
little known among this self-abandoned people. In a country of birches,
a rod is never seen; and it ought not to appear a marvel in my eyes,
that the choicest blessings of Providence are wasted in such cries as
these."

David closed his ears against the juvenile pack, whose yell just then
rang shrilly through the forest; and Duncan, suffering his lip to curl,
as in mockery of his own superstition, said firmly:

"We will proceed."

Without removing the safeguards from his ears, the master of song
complied, and together they pursued their way towards what David was
sometimes wont to call "the tents of the Philistines."

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: As Hawkeye laughs at Gamut's Indian paint and shaved head, the psalmodist tells the men that Magua recently separated Alice and Cora. Magua has sent Alice to a Huron camp and Cora to a Delaware settlement; he has released Gamut only because the Indians thought he was insane after they heard his religious singing. Gamut and Heyward decide to secretly inform the women that they will soon be rescued. Chingachgook disguises Heyward as a clown, since Heyward's knowledge of French can help him to pass as a juggler from Ticonderoga. Heyward and Gamut proceed to the camp of the Hurons, while Uncas and Hawkeye travel to find Cora in the Delaware camp. At the Huron camp, Gamut and Heyward see strange forms rising from the grass. When they approach the tents, they realize the strange forms are just children at play


prompt:
Chapter: "But though the beast of game
  The privilege of chase may claim;
  Though space and law the stag we lend
  Ere hound we slip, or bow we bend;
  Who ever recked, where, how, or when
  The prowling fox was trapped or slain?"

  _Lady of the Lake._

It is unusual to find an encampment of the natives, like those of the
more instructed whites, guarded by the presence of armed men. Well
informed of the approach of every danger, while it is yet at a distance,
the Indian generally rests secure under his knowledge of the signs of
the forest, and the long and difficult paths that separate him from
those he has most reason to dread. But the enemy who, by any lucky
concurrence of accidents, has found means to elude the vigilance of the
scouts, will seldom meet with sentinels nearer home to sound the alarm.
In addition to this general usage, the tribes friendly to the French
knew too well the weight of the blow that had just been struck, to
apprehend any immediate danger from the hostile nations that were
tributary to the crown of Britain.

When Duncan and David, therefore, found themselves in the centre of the
children, who played the antics already mentioned, it was with the least
previous intimation of their approach. But so soon as they were
observed, the whole of the juvenile pack raised, by common consent, a
shrill and warning whoop; and then sank, as it were, by magic, from
before the sight of their visitors. The naked, tawny bodies of the
crouching urchins blended so nicely, at that hour, with the withered
herbage, that at first it seemed as if the earth had, in truth,
swallowed up their forms; though when surprise permitted Duncan to bend
his look more curiously about the spot, he found it everywhere met by
dark, quick, and rolling eyeballs.

Gathering no encouragement from this startling presage of the nature of
the scrutiny he was likely to undergo from the more mature judgments of
the men, there was an instant when the young soldier would have
retreated. It was, however, too late to appear to hesitate. The cry of
the children had drawn a dozen warriors to the door of the nearest
lodge, where they stood clustered in a dark and savage group, gravely
awaiting the nearer approach of those who had unexpectedly come among
them.

David, in some measure familiarized to the scene, led the way with a
steadiness that no slight obstacle was likely to disconcert, into this
very building. It was the principal edifice of the village, though
roughly constructed of the bark and branches of trees; being the lodge
in which the tribe held its councils and public meetings during their
temporary residence on the borders of the English province. Duncan found
it difficult to assume the necessary appearance of unconcern, as he
brushed the dark and powerful frames of the savages who thronged its
threshold; but, conscious that his existence depended on his presence of
mind, he trusted to the discretion of his companion, whose footsteps he
closely followed, endeavoring, as he proceeded, to rally his thoughts
for the occasion. His blood curdled when he found himself in absolute
contact with such fierce and implacable enemies; but he so far mastered
his feelings as to pursue his way into the centre of the lodge, with an
exterior that did not betray the weakness. Imitating the example of the
deliberate Gamut, he drew a bundle of fragrant brush from beneath a pile
that filled a corner of the hut, and seated himself in silence.

So soon as their visitor had passed, the observant warriors fell back
from the entrance, and arranging themselves about him, they seemed
patiently to await the moment when it might comport with the dignity of
the stranger to speak. By far the greater number stood leaning, in lazy,
lounging attitudes, against the upright posts that supported the crazy
building, while three or four of the oldest and most distinguished of
the chiefs placed themselves on the earth a little more in advance.

A flaring torch was burning in the place, and sent its red glare from
face to face and figure to figure, as it waved in the currents of air.
Duncan profited by its light to read the probable character of his
reception, in the countenances of his hosts. But his ingenuity availed
him little, against the cold artifices of the people he had encountered.
The chiefs in front scarce cast a glance at his person, keeping their
eyes on the ground, with an air that might have been intended for
respect, but which it was quite easy to construe into distrust. The men
in shadow were less reserved. Duncan soon detected their searching, but
stolen looks, which, in truth, scanned his person and attire inch by
inch; leaving no emotion of the countenance, no gesture, no line of the
paint, nor even the fashion of a garment, unheeded, and without comment.

At length one whose hair was beginning to be sprinkled with gray, but
whose sinewy limbs and firm tread announced that he was still equal to
the duties of manhood, advanced out of the gloom of a corner, whither he
had probably posted himself to make his observations unseen, and spoke.
He used the language of the Wyandots, or Hurons; his words were,
consequently, unintelligible to Heyward, though they seemed, by the
gestures that accompanied them, to be uttered more in courtesy than
anger. The latter shook his head, and made a gesture indicative of his
inability to reply.

"Do none of my brothers speak the French or the English?" he said, in
the former language, looking about him from countenance to countenance,
in hopes of finding a nod of assent.

Though more than one had turned, as if to catch the meaning of his
words, they remained unanswered.

"I should be grieved to think," continued Duncan, speaking slowly, and
using the simplest French of which he was the master, "to believe, that
none of this wise and brave nation understand the language that the
'Grand Monarque' uses when he talks to his children. His heart would be
heavy did he believe his red warriors paid him so little respect!"

A long and grave pause succeeded, during which no movement of a limb,
nor any expression of an eye, betrayed the impression produced by his
remark. Duncan, who knew that silence was a virtue among his hosts,
gladly had recourse to the custom, in order to arrange his ideas. At
length the same warrior who had before addressed him replied, by dryly
demanding, in the language of the Canadas--

"When our Great Father speaks to his people, is it with the tongue of a
Huron?"

"He knows no difference in his children, whether the color of the skin
be red, or black, or white," returned Duncan, evasively; "though chiefly
is he satisfied with the brave Hurons."

"In what manner will he speak," demanded the wary chief, "when the
runners count to him the scalps which five nights ago grew on the heads
of the Yengeese?"

"They were his enemies," said Duncan, shuddering involuntarily; "and,
doubtless, he will say, It is good; my Hurons are very gallant."

"Our Canada father does not think it. Instead of looking forward to
reward his Indians, his eyes are turned backward. He sees the dead
Yengeese, but no Huron. What can this mean?"

"A great chief, like him, has more thoughts than tongues. He looks to
see that no enemies are on his trail."

"The canoe of a dead warrior will not float on the Horican," returned
the savage, gloomily. "His ears are open to the Delawares, who are not
our friends, and they fill them with lies."

"It cannot be. See; he has bid me, who am a man that knows the art of
healing, to go to his children, the red Hurons of the great lakes, and
ask if any are sick!"

Another silence succeeded this annunciation of the character Duncan had
assumed. Every eye was simultaneously bent on his person, as if to
inquire into the truth or falsehood of the declaration, with an
intelligence and keenness that caused the subject of their scrutiny to
tremble for the result. He was, however, relieved again by the former
speaker.

"Do the cunning men of the Canadas paint their skins?" the Huron coldly
continued; "we have heard them boast that their faces were pale."

"When an Indian chief comes among his white fathers," returned Duncan,
with great steadiness, "he lays aside his buffalo robe, to carry the
shirt that is offered him. My brothers have given me paint, and I wear
it."

A low murmur of applause announced that the compliment to the tribe was
favorably received. The elderly chief made a gesture of commendation,
which was answered by most of his companions, who each threw forth a
hand, and uttered a brief exclamation of pleasure. Duncan began to
breathe more freely, believing that the weight of his examination was
past; and as he had already prepared a simple and probable tale to
support his pretended occupation, his hopes of ultimate success grew
brighter.

After a silence of a few moments, as if adjusting his thoughts, in order
to make a suitable answer to the declaration their guest had just given,
another warrior arose, and placed himself in an attitude to speak. While
his lips were yet in the act of parting, a low but fearful sound arose
from the forest, and was immediately succeeded by a high, shrill yell,
that was drawn out, until it equalled the longest and most plaintive
howl of the wolf. The sudden and terrible interruption caused Duncan to
start from his seat, unconscious of everything but the effect produced
by so frightful a cry. At the same moment, the warriors glided in a body
from the lodge, and the outer air was filled with loud shouts, that
nearly drowned those awful sounds, which were still ringing beneath the
arches of the woods. Unable to command himself any longer, the youth
broke from the place, and presently stood in the centre of a disorderly
throng, that included nearly everything having life, within the limits
of the encampment. Men, women, and children; the aged, the infirm, the
active, and the strong, were alike abroad; some exclaiming aloud, others
clapping their hands with a joy that seemed frantic, and all expressing
their savage pleasure in some unexpected event. Though astounded, at
first, by the uproar, Heyward was soon enabled to find its solution by
the scene that followed.

There yet lingered sufficient light in the heavens to exhibit those
bright openings among the tree-tops, where different paths left the
clearing to enter the depths of the wilderness. Beneath one of them, a
line of warriors issued from the woods, and advanced slowly towards the
dwellings. One in front bore a short pole, on which, as it afterwards
appeared, were suspended several human scalps. The startling sounds that
Duncan had heard were what the whites have not inappropriately called
the "death-halloo;" and each repetition of the cry was intended to
announce to the tribe the fate of an enemy. Thus far the knowledge of
Heyward assisted him in the explanation; and as he now knew that the
interruption was caused by the unlooked-for return of a successful
war-party, every disagreeable sensation was quieted in inward
congratulation, for the opportune relief and insignificance it conferred
on himself.

When at the distance of a few hundred feet from the lodges, the newly
arrived warriors halted. Their plaintive and terrific cry, which was
intended to represent equally the wailings of the dead and the triumph
of the victors, had entirely ceased. One of their number now called
aloud, in words that were far from appalling, though not more
intelligible to those for whose ears they were intended, than their
expressive yells. It would be difficult to convey a suitable idea of the
savage ecstasy with which the news thus imparted was received. The whole
encampment, in a moment, became a scene of the most violent bustle and
commotion. The warriors drew their knives, and flourishing them, they
arranged themselves in two lines, forming a lane that extended from the
war-party to the lodges. The squaws seized clubs, axes, or whatever
weapon of offence first offered itself to their hands, and rushed
eagerly to act their part in the cruel game that was at hand. Even the
children would not be excluded; but boys, little able to wield the
instruments, tore the tomahawks from the belts of their fathers, and
stole into the ranks, apt imitators of the savage traits exhibited by
their parents.

Large piles of brush lay scattered about the clearing, and a wary and
aged squaw was occupied in firing as many as might serve to light the
coming exhibition. As the flame arose, its power exceeded that of the
parting day, and assisted to render objects at the same time more
distinct and more hideous. The whole scene formed a striking picture,
whose frame was composed of the dark and tall border of pines. The
warriors just arrived were the most distant figures. A little in advance
stood two men, who were apparently selected from the rest, as the
principal actors in what was to follow. The light was not strong enough
to render their features distinct, though it was quite evident that they
were governed by very different emotions. While one stood erect and
firm, prepared to meet his fate like a hero, the other bowed his head,
as if palsied by terror or stricken with shame. The high-spirited Duncan
felt a powerful impulse of admiration and pity towards the former,
though no opportunity could offer to exhibit his generous emotions. He
watched his slightest movement, however, with eager eyes; and as he
traced the fine outline of his admirably proportioned and active frame,
he endeavored to persuade himself, that if the powers of man, seconded
by such noble resolution, could bear one harmless through so severe a
trial, the youthful captive before him might hope for success in the
hazardous race he was about to run. Insensibly the young man drew nigher
to the swarthy lines of the Hurons, and scarcely breathed, so intense
became his interest in the spectacle. Just then the signal yell was
given, and the momentary quiet which had preceded it was broken by a
burst of cries, that far exceeded any before heard. The most abject of
the two victims continued motionless; but the other bounded from the
place at the cry, with the activity and swiftness of a deer. Instead of
rushing through the hostile lines, as had been expected, he just
entered the dangerous defile, and before time was given for a single
blow, turned short, and leaping the heads of a row of children, he
gained at once the exterior and safer side of the formidable array. The
artifice was answered by a hundred voices raised in imprecations; and
the whole of the excited multitude broke from their order, and spread
themselves about the place in wild confusion.

A dozen blazing piles now shed their lurid brightness on the place,
which resembled some unhallowed and supernatural arena, in which
malicious demons had assembled to act their bloody and lawless rites.
The forms in the background looked like unearthly beings, gliding before
the eye, and cleaving the air with frantic and unmeaning gestures; while
the savage passions of such as passed the flames, were rendered
fearfully distinct by the gleams that shot athwart their inflamed
visages.

It will easily be understood, that amid such a concourse of vindictive
enemies, no breathing time was allowed the fugitive. There was a single
moment when it seemed as if he would have reached the forest, but the
whole body of his captors threw themselves before him, and drove him
back into the centre of his relentless persecutors. Turning like a
headed deer, he shot, with the swiftness of an arrow, through a pillar
of forked flame, and passing the whole multitude harmless, he appeared
on the opposite side of the clearing. Here too he was met and turned by
a few of the older and more subtle of the Hurons. Once more he tried the
throng, as if seeking safety in its blindness, and then several moments
succeeded, during which Duncan believed the active and courageous young
stranger was lost.

Nothing could be distinguished but a dark mass of human forms tossed and
involved in inexplicable confusion. Arms, gleaming knives, and
formidable clubs, appeared above them, but the blows were evidently
given at random. The awful effect was heightened by the piercing shrieks
of the women and the fierce yells of the warriors. Now and then Duncan
caught a glimpse of a light form cleaving the air in some desperate
bound, and he rather hoped than believed that the captive yet retained
the command of his astonishing powers of activity. Suddenly the
multitude rolled backward, and approached the spot where he himself
stood. The heavy body in the rear pressed upon the women and children in
front, and bore them to the earth. The stranger reappeared in the
confusion. Human power could not, however, much longer endure so severe
a trial. Of this the captive seemed conscious. Profiting by the
momentary opening, he darted from among the warriors, and made a
desperate, and, what seemed to Duncan, a final effort to gain the wood.
As if aware that no danger was to be apprehended from the young soldier,
the fugitive nearly brushed his person in his flight. A tall and
powerful Huron, who had husbanded his forces, pressed close upon his
heels, and with an uplifted arm menaced a fatal blow. Duncan thrust
forth a foot, and the shock precipitated the eager savage headlong, many
feet in advance of his intended victim. Thought itself is not quicker
than was the motion with which the latter profited by the advantage; he
turned, gleamed like a meteor again before the eyes of Duncan, and at
the next moment, when the latter recovered his recollection, and gazed
around in quest of the captive, he saw him quietly leaning against a
small painted post, which stood before the door of the principal lodge.

Apprehensive that the part he had taken in the escape might prove fatal
to himself, Duncan left the place without delay. He followed the crowd,
which drew nigh the lodges, gloomy and sullen, like any other multitude
that had been disappointed in an execution. Curiosity, or perhaps a
better feeling, induced him to approach the stranger. He found him,
standing with one arm cast about the protecting post, and breathing
thick and hard, after his exertions, but disdaining to permit a single
sign of suffering to escape. His person was now protected by immemorial
and sacred usage, until the tribe in council had deliberated and
determined on his fate. It was not difficult, however, to foretell the
result, if any presage could be drawn from the feelings of those who
crowded the place.

There was no term of abuse known to the Huron vocabulary that the
disappointed women did not lavishly expend on the successful stranger.
They flouted at his efforts, and told him, with bitter scoffs, that his
feet were better than his hands; and that he merited wings, while he
knew not the use of an arrow or a knife. To all this the captive made no
reply; but was content to preserve an attitude in which dignity was
singularly blended with disdain. Exasperated as much by his composure as
by his good-fortune, their words became unintelligible, and were
succeeded by shrill, piercing yells. Just then the crafty squaw, who had
taken the necessary precaution to fire the piles, made her way through
the throng, and cleared a place for herself in front of the captive. The
squalid and withered person of this hag might well have obtained for her
the character of possessing more than human cunning. Throwing back her
light vestment, she stretched forth her long skinny arm, in derision,
and using the language of the Lenape, as more intelligible to the
subject of her gibes, she commenced aloud--

"Look you, Delaware!" she said, snapping her fingers in his face; "your
nation is a race of women, and the hoe is better fitted to your hands
than the gun. Your squaws are the mothers of deer; but if a bear, or a
wild cat, or a serpent were born among you, ye would flee. The Huron
girls shall make you petticoats, and we will find you a husband."

A burst of savage laughter succeeded this attack, during which the soft
and musical merriment of the younger females strangely chimed with the
cracked voice of their older and more malignant companion. But the
stranger was superior to all their efforts. His head was immovable; nor
did he betray the slightest consciousness that any were present, except
when his haughty eye rolled towards the dusky forms of the warriors, who
stalked in the background, silent and sullen observers of the scene.

Infuriated at the self-command of the captive, the woman placed her arms
akimbo; and throwing herself into a posture of defiance, she broke out
anew, in a torrent of words that no art of ours could commit
successfully to paper. Her breath was, however, expended in vain; for,
although distinguished in her own nation as a proficient in the art of
abuse, she was permitted to work herself into such a fury as actually to
foam at the mouth, without causing a muscle to vibrate in the motionless
figure of the stranger. The effect of his indifference began to extend
itself to the other spectators; and a youngster, who was just quitting
the condition of a boy, to enter the state of manhood, attempted to
assist the termagant, by flourishing his tomahawk before their victim,
and adding his empty boasts to the taunts of the woman. Then, indeed,
the captive turned his face towards the light, and looked down on the
stripling with an expression that was superior to contempt. At the next
moment he resumed his quiet and reclining attitude against the post. But
the change of posture had permitted Duncan to exchange glances with the
firm and piercing eyes of Uncas.

[Illustration: _Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons_

THE TERMAGANT

_Throwing back her light vestment, she stretched forth her long skinny
arm, in derision_]

Breathless with amazement, and heavily oppressed with the critical
situation of his friend, Heyward recoiled before the look, trembling
lest its meaning might, in some unknown manner, hasten the prisoner's
fate. There was not, however, any instant cause for such an
apprehension. Just then a warrior forced his way into the exasperated
crowd. Motioning the women and children aside with a stern gesture, he
took Uncas by the arm, and led him towards the door of the council
lodge. Thither all the chiefs, and most of the distinguished warriors,
followed; among whom the anxious Heyward found means to enter without
attracting any dangerous attention to himself.

A few minutes were consumed in disposing of those present in a manner
suitable to their rank and influence in the tribe. An order very similar
to that adopted in the preceding interview was observed; the aged and
superior chiefs occupying the area of the spacious apartment, within the
powerful light of a glaring torch, while their juniors and inferiors
were arranged in the background, presenting a dark outline of swarthy
and marked visages. In the very centre of the lodge, immediately under
an opening that admitted the twinkling light of one or two stars, stood
Uncas, calm, elevated, and collected. His high and haughty carriage was
not lost on his captors, who often bent their looks on his person, with
eyes which, while they lost none of their inflexibility of purpose,
plainly betrayed their admiration of the stranger's daring.

The case was different with the individual whom Duncan had observed to
stand forth with his friend, previously to the desperate trial of speed;
and who, instead of joining in the chase, had remained, throughout its
turbulent uproar, like a cringing statue, expressive of shame and
disgrace. Though not a hand had been extended to greet him, nor yet an
eye had condescended to watch his movements, he had also entered the
lodge, as though impelled by a fate to whose decrees he submitted,
seemingly, without a struggle. Heyward profited by the first opportunity
to gaze in his face, secretly apprehensive he might find the features of
another acquaintance; but they proved to be those of a stranger, and,
what was still more inexplicable, of one who bore all the distinctive
marks of a Huron warrior. Instead of mingling with his tribe, however,
he sat apart, a solitary being in a multitude, his form shrinking into a
crouching and abject attitude, as if anxious to fill as little space as
possible. When each individual had taken his proper station, and silence
reigned in the place, the gray-haired chief already introduced to the
reader, spoke aloud, in the language of the Lenni Lenape.

"Delaware," he said, "though one of a nation of women, you have proved
yourself a man. I would give you food; but he who eats with a Huron
should become his friend. Rest in peace till the morning sun, when our
last words shall be spoken."

"Seven nights, and as many summer days, have I fasted on the trail of
the Hurons," Uncas coldly replied; "the children of the Lenape know how
to travel the path of the just without lingering to eat."

"Two of my young men are in pursuit of your companion," resumed the
other, without appearing to regard the boast of his captive; "when they
get back, then will our wise men say to you 'live' or 'die.'"

"Has a Huron no ears?" scornfully exclaimed Uncas; "twice, since he has
been your prisoner, has the Delaware heard a gun that he knows. Your
young men will never come back!"

A short and sullen pause succeeded this bold assertion. Duncan, who
understood the Mohican to allude to the fatal rifle of the scout, bent
forward in earnest observation of the effect it might produce on the
conquerors; but the chief was content with simply retorting,--

"If the Lenape are so skilful, why is one of their bravest warriors
here?"

"He followed in the steps of a flying coward, and fell into a snare. The
cunning beaver may be caught."

As Uncas thus replied, he pointed with his finger toward the solitary
Huron, but without deigning to bestow any other notice on so unworthy an
object. The words of the answer and the air of the speaker produced a
strong sensation among his auditors. Every eye rolled sullenly towards
the individual indicated by the simple gesture, and a low, threatening
murmur passed through the crowd. The ominous sounds reached the outer
door, and the women and children pressing into the throng, no gap had
been left, between shoulder and shoulder, that was not now filled with
the dark lineaments of some eager and curious human countenance.

In the meantime, the more aged chiefs, in the centre, communed with each
other in short and broken sentences. Not a word was uttered that did not
convey the meaning of the speaker, in the simplest and most energetic
form. Again, a long and deeply solemn pause took place. It was known,
by all present, to be the grave precursor of a weighty and important
judgment. They who composed the outer circle of faces were on tiptoe to
gaze; and even the culprit for an instant forgot his shame in a deeper
emotion, and exposed his abject features, in order to cast an anxious
and troubled glance at the dark assemblage of chiefs. The silence was
finally broken by the aged warrior so often named. He arose from the
earth, and moving past the immovable form of Uncas, placed himself in a
dignified attitude before the offender. At that moment, the withered
squaw already mentioned moved into the circle, in a slow, sideling sort
of a dance, holding the torch, and muttering the indistinct words of
what might have been a species of incantation. Though her presence was
altogether an intrusion, it was unheeded.

Approaching Uncas, she held the blazing brand in such a manner as to
cast its red glare on his person, and to expose the slightest emotion of
his countenance. The Mohican maintained his firm and haughty attitude;
and his eye, so far from deigning to meet her inquisitive look, dwelt
steadily on the distance, as though it penetrated the obstacles which
impeded the view, and looked into futurity. Satisfied with her
examination, she left him, with a slight expression of pleasure, and
proceeded to practise the same trying experiment on her delinquent
countryman.

The young Huron was in his war paint, and very little of a finely
moulded form was concealed by his attire. The light rendered every limb
and joint discernible, and Duncan turned away in horror when he saw they
were writhing in irrepressible agony. The woman was commencing a low and
plaintive howl at the sad and shameful spectacle, when the chief put
forth his hand and gently pushed her aside.

"Reed-that-bends," he said, addressing the young culprit by name, and in
his proper language, "though the Great Spirit has made you pleasant to
the eyes, it would have been better that you had not been born. Your
tongue is loud in the village, but in battle it is still. None of my
young men strike the tomahawk deeper into the war-post--none of them so
lightly on the Yengeese. The enemy know the shape of your back, but they
have never seen the color of your eyes. Three times have they called on
you to come, and as often did you forget to answer. Your name will never
be mentioned again in your tribe--it is already forgotten."

As the chief slowly uttered these words, pausing impressively between
each sentence, the culprit raised his face, in deference to the other's
rank and years. Shame, horror, and pride struggled in its lineaments.
His eye, which was contracted with inward anguish, gleamed on the
persons of those whose breath was his fame; and the latter emotion for
an instant predominated. He arose to his feet, and baring his bosom,
looked steadily on the keen, glittering knife, that was already upheld
by his inexorable judge. As the weapon passed slowly into his heart he
even smiled, as if in joy at having found death less dreadful than he
had anticipated, and fell heavily on his face, at the feet of the rigid
and unyielding form of Uncas.

The squaw gave a loud and plaintive yell, dashed the torch to the earth,
and buried everything in darkness. The whole shuddering group of
spectators glided from the lodge, like troubled sprites; and Duncan
thought that he and the yet throbbing body of the victim of an Indian
judgment had now become its only tenants.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The village usually has no guards, but the whooping of the children draws the attention of the warriors. Heyward pretends to be a French doctor and attempts to pacify the Hurons, who believe the French forces abandoned them. A group of Hurons returns with a prisoner and several human scalps. The Huron elders force the prisoner to run a race against the tribe's warriors in order to escape. Though the prisoner runs speedily, the Hurons outnumber him, and he wins only because Heyward trips one of his pursuers. Suddenly, Heyward recognizes the breathless prisoner as Uncas. Meanwhile, in the main lodge, the father of the man who captured Uncas condemns his son for cowardice and stabs him in the heart.