Chapter: "_Ant._ I shall remember:
  When Caesar says _Do this_, it is performed."

  _Julius Caesar._


The impatience of the savages who lingered about the prison of Uncas, as
has been seen, had overcome their dread of the conjurer's breath. They
stole cautiously, and with beating hearts, to a crevice, through which
the faint light of the fire was glimmering. For several minutes they
mistook the form of David for that of their prisoner; but the very
accident which Hawkeye had foreseen occurred. Tired of keeping the
extremities of his long person so near together, the singer gradually
suffered the lower limbs to extend themselves, until one of his
misshapen feet actually came in contact with and shoved aside the embers
of the fire. At first the Hurons believed the Delaware had been thus
deformed by witchcraft. But when David, unconscious of being observed,
turned his head, and exposed his simple, mild countenance, in place of
the haughty lineaments of their prisoner, it would have exceeded the
credulity of even a native to have doubted any longer. They rushed
together into the lodge, and laying their hands, with but little
ceremony, on their captive, immediately detected the imposition. Then
arose the cry first heard by the fugitives. It was succeeded by the most
frantic and angry demonstrations of vengeance. David, however firm in
his determination to cover the retreat of his friends, was compelled to
believe that his own final hour had come. Deprived of his book and his
pipe, he was fain to trust to a memory that rarely failed him on such
subjects; and breaking forth in a loud and impassioned strain, he
endeavored to soothe his passage into the other world, by singing the
opening verse of a funeral anthem. The Indians were seasonably reminded
of his infirmity, and rushing into the open air, they aroused the
village in the manner described.

A native warrior fights as he sleeps, without the protection of anything
defensive. The sounds of the alarm were, therefore, hardly uttered,
before two hundred men were afoot, and ready for the battle or the
chase, as either might be required. The escape was soon known; and the
whole tribe crowded, in a body, around the council-lodge, impatiently
awaiting the instruction of their chiefs. In such a sudden demand on
their wisdom, the presence of the cunning Magua could scarcely fail of
being needed. His name was mentioned, and all looked round in wonder
that he did not appear. Messengers were then despatched to his lodge,
requiring his presence.

In the meantime, some of the swiftest and most discreet of the young men
were ordered to make the circuit of the clearing, under cover of the
woods, in order to ascertain that their suspected neighbors, the
Delawares, designed no mischief. Women and children ran to and fro; and
in short, the whole encampment exhibited another scene of wild and
savage confusion. Gradually, however, these symptoms of disorder
diminished; and in a few minutes the oldest and most distinguished
chiefs were assembled in the lodge, in grave consultation.

The clamor of many voices soon announced that a party approached, who
might be expected to communicate some intelligence that would explain
the mystery of the novel surprise. The crowd without gave way, and
several warriors entered the place, bringing with them the hapless
conjurer, who had been left so long by the scout in duress.

Notwithstanding this man was held in very unequal estimation among the
Hurons, some believing implicitly in his power, and others deeming him
an impostor, he was now listened to by all with the deepest attention.
When his brief story was ended, the father of the sick woman stepped
forth, and, in a few pithy expressions, related, in his turn, what he
knew. These two narratives gave a proper direction to the subsequent
inquiries, which were now made with the characteristic cunning of
savages.

Instead of rushing in a confused and disorderly throng to the cavern,
ten of the wisest and firmest among the chiefs were selected to
prosecute the investigation. As no time was to be lost, the instant the
choice was made the individuals appointed rose in a body, and left the
place without speaking. On reaching the entrance, the younger men in
advance made way for their seniors; and the whole proceeded along the
low, dark gallery, with the firmness of warriors ready to devote
themselves to the public good, though, at the same time, secretly
doubting the nature of the power with which they were about to contend.

The outer apartment of the cavern was silent and gloomy. The woman lay
in her usual place and posture, though there were those present who
affirmed they had seen her borne to the woods, by the supposed "medicine
of the white men." Such a direct and palpable contradiction of the tale
related by the father, caused all eyes to be turned on him. Chafed by
the silent imputation, and inwardly troubled by so unaccountable a
circumstance, the chief advanced to the side of the bed, and stooping,
cast an incredulous look at the features, as if distrusting their
reality. His daughter was dead.

The unerring feeling of nature, for a moment prevailed, and the old
warrior hid his eyes in sorrow. Then recovering his self-possession, he
faced his companions, and pointing towards the corpse, he said, in the
language of his people,--

"The wife of my young man has left us! the Great Spirit is angry with
his children."

The mournful intelligence was received in solemn silence. After a short
pause, one of the elder Indians was about to speak, when a dark-looking
object was seen rolling out of an adjoining apartment, into the very
centre of the room where they stood. Ignorant of the nature of the
beings they had to deal with, the whole party drew back a little, and
gazed in admiration, until the object fronted the light, and rising on
end, exhibited the distorted, but still fierce and sullen features of
Magua. The discovery was succeeded by a general exclamation of
amazement.

As soon, however, as the true situation of the chief was understood,
several ready knives appeared, and his limbs and tongue were quickly
released. The Huron arose, and shook himself like a lion quitting his
lair. Not a word escaped him, though his hand played convulsively with
the handle of his knife, while his lowering eyes scanned the whole
party, as if they sought an object suited to the first burst of his
vengeance.

It was happy for Uncas and the scout, and even David, that they were all
beyond the reach of his arm at such a moment; for, assuredly, no
refinement in cruelty would then have deferred their deaths, in
opposition to the promptings of the fierce temper that nearly choked
him. Meeting everywhere faces that he knew as friends, the savage grated
his teeth together like rasps of iron, and swallowed his passion for
want of a victim on whom to vent it. This exhibition of anger was noted
by all present; and, from an apprehension of exasperating a temper that
was already chafed nearly to madness, several minutes were suffered to
pass before another word was uttered. When, however, suitable time had
elapsed, the oldest of the party spoke.

"My friend has found an enemy," he said. "Is he nigh, that the Hurons
may take revenge?"

"Let the Delaware die!" exclaimed Magua, in a voice of thunder.

Another long and expressive silence was observed, and was broken, as
before, with due precaution, by the same individual.

"The Mohican is swift of foot, and leaps far," he said; "but my young
men are on his trail."

"Is he gone?" demanded Magua, in tones so deep and guttural, that they
seemed to proceed from his inmost chest.

"An evil spirit has been among us, and the Delaware has blinded our
eyes."

"An evil spirit!" repeated the other, mockingly; "'tis the spirit that
has taken the lives of so many Hurons; the spirit that slew my young men
at 'the tumbling river'; that took their scalps at the 'healing spring';
and who has now bound the arms of Le Renard Subtil!"

"Of whom does my friend speak?"

"Of the dog who carries the heart and cunning of a Huron under a pale
skin--La Longue Carabine."

The pronunciation of so terrible a name produced the usual effect among
his auditors. But when time was given for reflection, and the warriors
remembered that their formidable and daring enemy had even been in the
bosom of their encampment, working injury, fearful rage took the place
of wonder, and all those fierce passions with which the bosom of Magua
had just been struggling were suddenly transferred to his companions.
Some among them gnashed their teeth in anger, others vented their
feelings in yells, and some, again beat the air as frantically as if the
object of their resentment were suffering under their blows. But this
sudden outbreaking of temper as quickly subsided in the still and sullen
restraint they most affected, in their moments of inaction.

Magua who had in his turn found leisure for reflection, now changed his
manner, and assumed the air of one who knew how to think and act with a
dignity worthy of so grave a subject.

"Let us go to my people," he said; "they wait for us."

His companions consented in silence, and the whole of the savage party
left the cavern and returned to the council-lodge. When they were
seated, all eyes turned on Magua, who understood, from such an
indication, that, by common consent, they had devolved the duty of
relating what had passed on him. He arose, and told his tale without
duplicity or reservation. The whole deception practised by both Duncan
and Hawkeye was, of course, laid naked; and no room was found, even for
the most superstitious of the tribe, any longer to affix a doubt on the
character of the occurrences. It was but too apparent that they had been
insultingly, shamefully, disgracefully deceived. When he had ended, and
resumed his seat, the collected tribe--for his auditors, in substance,
included all the fighting men of the party--sat regarding each other
like men astonished equally at the audacity and the success of their
enemies. The next consideration, however, was the means and
opportunities for revenge.

Additional pursuers were sent on the trail of the fugitives; and then
the chiefs applied themselves, in earnest, to the business of
consultation. Many different expedients were proposed by the elder
warriors, in succession, to all of which Magua was a silent and
respectful listener. That subtle savage had recovered his artifice and
self-command, and now proceeded towards his object with his customary
caution and skill. It was only when each one disposed to speak had
uttered his sentiments, that he prepared to advance his own opinions.
They were given with additional weight from the circumstance that some
of the runners had already returned, and reported that their enemies had
been traced so far as to leave no doubt of their having sought safety in
the neighboring camp of their suspected allies, the Delawares. With the
advantage of possessing this important intelligence, the chief warily
laid his plans before his fellows, and, as might have been anticipated
from his eloquence and cunning, they were adopted without a dissenting
voice. They were, briefly, as follows, both in opinions and in motives.

It has been already stated that, in obedience to a policy rarely
departed from, the sisters were separated so soon as they reached the
Huron village. Magua had early discovered that in retaining the person
of Alice, he possessed the most effectual check on Cora. When they
parted, therefore, he kept the former within reach of his hand,
consigning the one he most valued to the keeping of their allies. The
arrangement was understood to be merely temporary, and was made as much
with a view to flatter his neighbors as in obedience to the invariable
rule of Indian policy.

While goaded incessantly by those revengeful impulses that in a savage
seldom slumber, the chief was still attentive to his more permanent
personal interests. The follies and disloyalty committed in his youth
were to be expiated by a long and painful penance, ere he could be
restored to the full enjoyment of the confidence of his ancient people;
and without confidence, there could be no authority in an Indian tribe.
In this delicate and arduous situation, the crafty native had neglected
no means of increasing his influence; and one of the happiest of his
expedients had been the success with which he had cultivated the favor
of their powerful and dangerous neighbors. The result of his experiment
had answered all the expectations of his policy; for the Hurons were in
no degree exempt from that governing principle of nature, which induces
man to value his gifts precisely in the degree that they are appreciated
by others.

But, while he was making this ostensible sacrifice to general
considerations, Magua never lost sight of his individual motives. The
latter had been frustrated by the unlooked-for events which had placed
all his prisoners beyond his control; and he now found himself reduced
to the necessity of suing for favors to those whom it had so lately been
his policy to oblige.

Several of the chiefs had proposed deep and treacherous schemes to
surprise the Delawares, and, by gaining possession of their camp, to
recover their prisoners by the same blow; for all agreed that their
honor, their interests, and the peace and happiness of their dead
countrymen, imperiously required them speedily to immolate some victims
to their revenge. But plans so dangerous to attempt, and of such
doubtful issue, Magua found little difficulty in defeating. He exposed
their risk and fallacy with his usual skill; and it was only after he
had removed every impediment, in the shape of opposing advice, that he
ventured to propose his own projects.

He commenced by flattering the self-love of his auditors; a
never-failing method of commanding attention. When he had enumerated the
many different occasions on which the Hurons had exhibited their courage
and prowess, in the punishment of insults, he digressed in a high
encomium on the virtue of wisdom. He painted the quality, as forming the
great point of difference between the beaver and other brutes; between
brutes and men; and, finally, between the Hurons, in particular, and
the rest of the human race. After he had sufficiently extolled the
property of discretion, he undertook to exhibit in what manner its use
was applicable to the present situation of their tribe. On the one hand,
he said, was their great pale father, the governor of the Canadas, who
had looked upon his children with a hard eye since their tomahawks had
been so red; on the other, a people as numerous as themselves, who spoke
a different language, possessed different interests, and loved them not,
and who would be glad of any pretence to bring them in disgrace with the
great white chief. Then he spoke of their necessities; of the gifts they
had a right to expect for their past services; of their distance from
their proper hunting-grounds and native villages; and of the necessity
of consulting prudence more, and inclination less, in so critical
circumstances. When he perceived that, while the old men applauded his
moderation, many of the fiercest and most distinguished of the warriors
listened to these politic plans with lowering looks, he cunningly led
them back to the subject which they most loved. He spoke openly of the
fruits of their wisdom, which he boldly pronounced would be a complete
and final triumph over their enemies. He even darkly hinted that their
success might be extended, with proper caution, in such a manner as to
include the destruction of all whom they had reason to hate. In short,
he so blended the warlike with the artful, the obvious with the obscure,
as to flatter the propensities of both parties, and to leave to each
subject of hope, while neither could say it clearly comprehended his
intentions.

The orator, or the politician, who can produce such a state of things,
is commonly popular with his contemporaries, however he may be treated
by posterity. All perceived that more was meant than was uttered, and
each one believed that the hidden meaning was precisely such as his own
faculties enabled him to understand, or his own wishes led him to
anticipate.

In this happy state of things, it is not surprising that the management
of Magua prevailed. The tribe consented to act with deliberation, and
with one voice they committed the direction of the whole affair to the
government of the chief who had suggested such wise and intelligible
expedients.

Magua had now attained one great object of all his cunning and
enterprise. The ground he had lost in the favor of his people was
completely regained, and he found himself even placed at the head of
affairs. He was, in truth, their ruler; and, so long as he could
maintain his popularity, no monarch could be more despotic, especially
while the tribe continued in a hostile country. Throwing off, therefore,
the appearance of consultation, he assumed the grave air of authority
necessary to support the dignity of his office.

Runners were despatched for intelligence in different directions; spies
were ordered to approach and feel the encampment of the Delawares; the
warriors were dismissed to their lodges, with an intimation that their
services would soon be needed; and the women and children were ordered
to retire, with a warning that it was their province to be silent. When
these several arrangements were made, Magua passed through the village,
stopping here and there to pay a visit where he thought his presence
might be flattering to the individual. He confirmed his friends in their
confidence, fixed the wavering, and gratified all. Then he sought his
own lodge. The wife the Huron chief had abandoned, when he was chased
from among his people, was dead. Children he had none; and he now
occupied a hut, without companion of any sort. It was, in fact, the
dilapidated and solitary structure in which David had been discovered,
and whom he had tolerated in his presence, on those few occasions when
they met, with the contemptuous indifference of a haughty superiority.

Hither, then, Magua retired, when his labors of policy were ended. While
others slept, however, he neither knew nor sought repose. Had there been
one sufficiently curious to have watched the movements of the newly
elected chief, he would have seen him seated in a corner of his lodge,
musing on the subject of his future plans, from the hour of his
retirement to the time he had appointed for the warriors to assemble
again. Occasionally the air breathed through the crevices of the hut,
and the low flames that fluttered about the embers of the fire threw
their wavering light on the person of the sullen recluse. At such
moments it would not have been difficult to have fancied the dusky
savage the Prince of Darkness, brooding on his own fancied wrongs, and
plotting evil.

Long before the day dawned, however, warrior after warrior entered the
solitary hut of Magua, until they had collected to the number of twenty.
Each bore his rifle, and all the other accoutrements of war, though the
paint was uniformly peaceful. The entrance of these fierce-looking
beings was unnoticed; some seating themselves in the shadows of the
place, and others standing like motionless statues, until the whole of
the designated band was collected.

Then Magua arose and gave the signal to proceed, marching himself in
advance. They followed their leader singly, and in that well-known order
which has obtained the distinguishing appellation of "Indian file."
Unlike other men engaged in the spirit-stirring business of war, they
stole from their camp unostentatiously and unobserved, resembling a band
of gliding spectres, more than warriors seeking the bubble reputation by
deeds of desperate daring.

Instead of taking the path which led directly towards the camp of the
Delawares, Magua led his party for some distance down the windings of
the stream, and along the little artificial lake of the beavers. The day
began to dawn as they entered the clearing which had been formed by
those sagacious and industrious animals. Though Magua, who had resumed
his ancient garb, bore the outline of a fox on the dressed skin which
formed his robe, there was one chief of his party who carried the beaver
as his peculiar symbol, or "totem." There would have been a species of
profanity in the omission, had this man passed so powerful a community
of his fancied kindred, without bestowing some evidence of his regard.
Accordingly, he paused, and spoke in words as kind and friendly as if he
were addressing more intelligent beings. He called the animals his
cousins, and reminded them that his protecting influence was the reason
they remained unharmed, while so many avaricious traders were prompting
the Indians to take their lives. He promised a continuance of his
favors, and admonished them to be grateful. After which, he spoke of the
expedition in which he was himself engaged, and intimated, though with
sufficient delicacy and circumlocution, the expediency of bestowing on
their relative a portion of that wisdom for which they were so
renowned.[24]

During the utterance of this extraordinary address, the companions of
the speaker were as grave and as attentive to his language as though
they were all equally impressed with its propriety. Once or twice black
objects were seen rising to the surface of the water, and the Huron
expressed pleasure, conceiving that his words were not bestowed in
vain. Just as he had ended his address, the head of a large beaver was
thrust from the door of a lodge, whose earthen walls had been much
injured, and which the party had believed, from its situation, to be
uninhabited. Such an extraordinary sign of confidence was received by
the orator as a highly favorable omen; and though the animal retreated a
little precipitately, he was lavish of his thanks and commendations.

When Magua thought sufficient time had been lost in gratifying the
family affection of the warrior, he again made the signal to proceed. As
the Indians moved away in a body, and with a step that would have been
inaudible to the ears of any common man, the same venerable-looking
beaver once more ventured his head from its cover. Had any of the Hurons
turned to look behind them, they would have seen the animal watching
their movements with an interest and sagacity that might easily have
been mistaken for reason. Indeed, so very distinct and intelligible were
the devices of the quadruped, that even the most experienced observer
would have been at a loss to account for its actions, until the moment
when the party entered the forest, when the whole would have been
explained, by seeing the entire animal issue from the lodge, uncasing,
by the act, the grave features of Chingachgook from his mask of fur.

 Gamut sings loudly and the savages spare him because of his "infirmity." Almost immediately two hundred men are confusedly afoot, but a consultation is called. The real conjurer and the chief's dead daughter in the cavern are found and Magua is released, revealing to them that La Longue Carabine -- Hawkeye -- has been in their midst. The enraged people send out additional pursuers and return to the council lodge. When runners report that the fugitives have gone to the Delawares, the chiefs speak in turn, Magua waiting until last. A good manager of people and situation, he orates well, and his view prevails when he recommends prudence. He has now regained favor with the Hurons and is placed at the head of affairs. Just as dawn begins, he leads twenty warriors on an indirect route toward the Delaware village. One chief, whose totem is the beaver, pauses to address the animals as the group passes the pond. It is gratifying when one particularly large beaver sticks his head out of a lodge, but as the Indians move on, the animal removes its head and reveals itself to be Chingachgook.

