Chapter: "Thus spoke the sage: the kings without delay
  Dissolve the council, and their chief obey."

  POPE'S _Iliad._


A single moment served to convince the youth that he was mistaken. A
hand was laid, with a powerful pressure, on his arm, and the low voice
of Uncas muttered in his ears,--

"The Hurons are dogs. The sight of a coward's blood can never make a
warrior tremble. The 'Gray Head' and the Sagamore are safe, and the
rifle of Hawkeye is not asleep. Go,--Uncas and the 'Open Hand' are now
strangers. It is enough."

Heyward would gladly have heard more, but a gentle push from his friend
urged him towards the door, and admonished him of the danger that might
attend the discovery of their intercourse. Slowly and reluctantly
yielding to the necessity, he quitted the place, and mingled with the
throng that hovered nigh. The dying fires in the clearing cast a dim and
uncertain light on the dusky figures that were silently stalking to and
fro; and occasionally a brighter gleam than common glanced into the
lodge, and exhibited the figure of Uncas still maintaining its upright
attitude near the dead body of the Huron.

A knot of warriors soon entered the place again, and reissuing, they
bore the senseless remains into the adjacent woods. After this
termination of the scene, Duncan wandered among the lodges, unquestioned
and unnoticed, endeavoring to find some trace of her in whose behalf he
incurred the risk he ran. In the present temper of the tribe, it would
have been easy to have fled and rejoined his companions, had such a wish
crossed his mind. But, in addition to the never-ceasing anxiety on
account of Alice, a fresher, though feebler interest in the fate of
Uncas assisted to chain him to the spot. He continued, therefore, to
stray from hut to hut, looking into each only to encounter additional
disappointment, until he had made the entire circuit of the village.
Abandoning a species of inquiry that proved so fruitless, he retraced
his steps to the council lodge, resolved to seek and question David, in
order to put an end to his doubts.

On reaching the building which had proved alike the seat of judgment
and the place of execution, the young man found that the excitement had
already subsided. The warriors had reassembled, and were now calmly
smoking, while they conversed gravely on the chief incidents of their
recent expedition to the head of the Horican. Though the return of
Duncan was likely to remind them of his character, and the suspicious
circumstances of his visit, it produced no visible sensation. So far,
the terrible scene that had just occurred proved favorable to his views,
and he required no other prompter than his own feelings to convince him
of the expediency of profiting by so unexpected an advantage.

Without seeming to hesitate, he walked into the lodge, and took his seat
with a gravity that accorded admirably with the deportment of his hosts.
A hasty but searching glance sufficed to tell him that, though Uncas
still remained where he had left him, David had not reappeared. No other
restraint was imposed on the former than the watchful looks of a young
Huron, who had placed himself at hand; though an armed warrior leaned
against the post that formed one side of the narrow door-way. In every
other respect, the captive seemed at liberty; still he was excluded from
all participation in the discourse, and possessed much more of the air
of some finely moulded statue than a man having life and volition.

Heyward had too recently witnessed a frightful instance of the prompt
punishments of the people into whose hands he had fallen, to hazard an
exposure by any officious boldness. He would greatly have preferred
silence and meditation to speech, when a discovery of his real condition
might prove so instantly fatal. Unfortunately for this prudent
resolution, his entertainers appeared otherwise disposed. He had not
long occupied the seat wisely taken a little in the shade, when another
of the elder warriors, who spoke the French language, addressed him:--

"My Canada father does not forget his children," said the chief; "I
thank him. An evil spirit lives in the wife of one of my young men. Can
the cunning stranger frighten him away?"

Heyward possessed some knowledge of the mummery practised among the
Indians, in the cases of such supposed visitations. He saw, at a glance,
that the circumstance might possibly be improved to further his own end.
It would, therefore, have been difficult, just then, to have uttered a
proposal that would have given him more satisfaction. Aware of the
necessity of preserving the dignity of his imaginary character, however,
he repressed his feelings, and answered with suitable mystery,--

"Spirits differ; some yield to the power of wisdom, while others are too
strong."

"My brother is a great medicine," said the cunning savage; "he will
try?"

A gesture of assent was the answer. The Huron was content with the
assurance, and resuming his pipe, he awaited the proper moment to move.
The impatient Heyward, inwardly execrating the cold customs of the
savages, which required such sacrifices to appearance, was fain to
assume an air of indifference, equal to that maintained by the chief,
who was, in truth, a near relative of the afflicted woman. The minutes
lingered, and the delay had seemed an hour to the adventurer in
empiricism, when the Huron laid aside his pipe, and drew his robe across
his breast, as if about to lead the way to the lodge of the invalid.
Just then, a warrior of powerful frame darkened the door, and stalking
silently among the attentive group, he seated himself on one end of the
low pile of brush which sustained Duncan. The latter cast an impatient
look at his neighbor, and felt his flesh creep with uncontrollable
horror when he found himself in actual contact with Magua.

The sudden return of this artful and dreaded chief caused a delay in the
departure of the Huron. Several pipes, that had been extinguished, were
lighted again; while the newcomer, without speaking a word, drew his
tomahawk from his girdle, and filling the bowl on its head, began to
inhale the vapors of the weed through the hollow handle, with as much
indifference as if he had not been absent two weary days on a long and
toilsome hunt. Ten minutes, which appeared so many ages to Duncan, might
have passed in this manner; and the warriors were fairly enveloped in a
cloud of white smoke before any of them spoke.

"Welcome!" one at length uttered; "has my friend found the moose?"

"The young men stagger under their burdens," returned Magua. "Let
'Reed-that-bends' go on the hunting-path; he will meet them."

A deep and awful silence succeeded the utterance of the forbidden name.
Each pipe dropped from the lips of its owner as though all had inhaled
an impurity at the same instant. The smoke wreathed above their heads in
little eddies, and curling in a spiral form, it ascended swiftly
through the opening in the roof of the lodge, leaving the place beneath
clear of its fumes, and each dark visage distinctly visible. The looks
of most of the warriors were riveted on the earth; though a few of the
younger and less gifted of the party suffered their wild and glaring
eyeballs to roll in the direction of a white-headed savage, who sat
between two of the most venerated chiefs of the tribe. There was nothing
in the air or attire of this Indian that would seem to entitle him to
such a distinction. The former was rather depressed, than remarkable for
the bearing of the natives; and the latter was such as was commonly worn
by the ordinary men of the nation. Like most around him, for more than a
minute his look too was on the ground; but, trusting his eyes at length
to steal a glance aside, he perceived that he was becoming an object of
general attention. Then he arose and lifted his voice in the general
silence.

"It was a lie," he said; "I had no son. He who was called by that name
is forgotten; his blood was pale; and it came not from the veins of a
Huron; the wicked Chippewas cheated my squaw. The Great Spirit has said,
that the family of Wiss-entush should end; he is happy who knows that
the evil of his race dies with himself. I have done."

The speaker, who was the father of the recreant young Indian, looked
round and about him, as if seeking commendation of his stoicism in the
eyes of his auditors. But the stern customs of his people had made too
severe an exaction of the feeble old man. The expression of his eye
contradicted his figurative and boastful language, while every muscle in
his wrinkled visage was working with anguish. Standing a single minute
to enjoy his bitter triumph, he turned away, as if sickening at the gaze
of men, and veiling his face in his blanket, he walked from the lodge
with the noiseless step of an Indian, seeking, in the privacy of his own
abode, the sympathy of one like himself, aged, forlorn, and childless.

The Indians, who believe in the hereditary transmission of virtues and
defects in character, suffered him to depart in silence. Then, with an
elevation of breeding that many in a more cultivated state of society
might profitably emulate, one of the chiefs drew the attention of the
young men from the weakness they had just witnessed, by saying, in a
cheerful voice, addressing himself in courtesy to Magua, as the newest
comer,--

"The Delawares have been like bears after the honey-pots, prowling
around my village. But who has ever found a Huron asleep?"

The darkness of the impending cloud which precedes a burst of thunder
was not blacker than the brow of Magua as he exclaimed,--

"The Delawares of the Lakes!"

"Not so. They who wear the petticoats of squaws, on their own river. One
of them has been passing the tribe."

"Did my young men take his scalp?"

"His legs were good, though his arm is better for the hoe than the
tomahawk," returned the other, pointing to the immovable form of Uncas.

Instead of manifesting any womanish curiosity to feast his eyes with the
sight of a captive from a people he was known to have so much reason to
hate, Magua continued to smoke, with the meditative air that he usually
maintained, when there was no immediate call on his cunning or his
eloquence. Although secretly amazed at the facts communicated by the
speech of the aged father, he permitted himself to ask no questions,
reserving his inquiries for a more suitable moment. It was only after a
sufficient interval that he shook the ashes from his pipe, replaced the
tomahawk, tightened his girdle, and arose, casting for the first time a
glance in the direction of the prisoner, who stood a little behind him.
The wary, though seemingly abstracted Uncas, caught a glimpse of the
movement, and turning suddenly to the light, their looks met. Near a
minute these two bold and untamed spirits stood regarding one another
steadily in the eye, neither quailing in the least before the fierce
gaze he encountered. The form of Uncas dilated, and his nostrils opened
like those of a tiger at bay; but so rigid and unyielding was his
posture, that he might easily have been converted by the imagination
into an exquisite and faultless representation of the warlike deity of
his tribe. The lineaments of the quivering features of Magua proved more
ductile; his countenance gradually lost its character of defiance in an
expression of ferocious joy, and heaving a breath from the very bottom
of his chest, he pronounced aloud the very formidable name of--

"Le Cerf Agile!"

Each warrior sprang upon his feet at the utterance of the well known
appellation, and there was a short period during which the stoical
constancy of the natives was completely conquered by surprise. The
hated and yet respected name was repeated as by one voice, carrying the
sound even beyond the limits of the lodge. The women and children, who
lingered around the entrance, took up the words in an echo, which was
succeeded by another shrill and plaintive howl. The latter was not yet
ended, when the sensation among the men had entirely abated. Each one in
presence seated himself, as though ashamed of his precipitation; but it
was many minutes before their meaning eyes ceased to roll towards their
captive, in curious examination of a warrior who had so often proved his
prowess on the best and proudest of their nation. Uncas enjoyed his
victory, but was content with merely exhibiting his triumph by a quiet
smile--an emblem of scorn which belongs to all time and every nation.

Magua caught the expression, and raising his arm, he shook it at the
captive, the light silver ornaments attached to his bracelet rattling
with the trembling agitation of the limb, as, in a tone of vengeance, he
exclaimed, in English,--

"Mohican, you die!"

"The healing waters will never bring the dead Hurons to life," returned
Uncas, in the music of the Delawares; "the tumbling river washes their
bones; their men are squaws; their women owls. Go! call together the
Huron dogs, that they may look upon a warrior. My nostrils are offended;
they scent the blood of a coward."

The latter allusion struck deep, and the injury rankled. Many of the
Hurons understood the strange tongue in which the captive spoke, among
which number was Magua. This cunning savage beheld, and instantly
profited by his advantage. Dropping the light robe of skin from his
shoulder, he stretched forth his arm, and commenced a burst of his
dangerous and artful eloquence. However much his influence among his
people had been impaired by his occasional and besetting weakness, as
well as by his desertion of the tribe, his courage and his fame as an
orator were undeniable. He never spoke without auditors, and rarely
without making converts to his opinions. On the present occasion, his
native powers were stimulated by the thirst of revenge.

He again recounted the events of the attack on the island at Glenn's,
the death of his associates, and the escape of their most formidable
enemies. Then he described the nature and position of the mount whither
he had led such captives as had fallen into their hands. Of his own
bloody intentions towards the maidens, and of his baffled malice he made
no mention, but passed rapidly on to the surprise of the party by La
Longue Carabine, and its fatal termination. Here he paused, and looked
about him, in affected veneration for the departed, but, in truth, to
note the effect of his opening narrative. As usual, every eye was
riveted on his face. Each dusky figure seemed a breathing statue, so
motionless was the posture, so intense the attention of the individual.

Then Magua dropped his voice, which had hitherto been clear, strong, and
elevated, and touched upon the merits of the dead. No quality that was
likely to command the sympathy of an Indian escaped his notice. One had
never been known to follow the chase in vain; another had been
indefatigable on the trail of their enemies. This was brave, that
generous. In short, he so managed his allusions, that in a nation, which
was composed of so few families, he contrived to strike every chord that
might find, in its turn, some breast in which to vibrate.

"Are the bones of my young men," he concluded, "in the burial-place of
the Hurons? You know they are not. Their spirits are gone towards the
setting sun, and are already crossing the great waters, to the happy
hunting-grounds. But they departed without food, without guns or knives,
without moccasins, naked and poor as they were born. Shall this be? Are
their souls to enter the land of the just like hungry Iroquois or
unmanly Delawares; or shall they meet their friends with arms in their
hands and robes on their backs? What will our fathers think the tribes
of the Wyandots have become? They will look on their children with a
dark eye, and say, Go! a Chippewa has come hither with the name of a
Huron. Brothers, we must not forget the dead; a redskin never ceases to
remember. We will load the back of this Mohican until he staggers under
our bounty, and despatch him after my young men. They call to us for
aid, though our ears are not open; they say, Forget us not. When they
see the spirit of this Mohican toiling after them with his burden, they
will know we are of that mind. Then will they go on happy; and our
children will say, 'So did our fathers to their friends, so must we do
to them.' What is a Yengee? we have slain many, but the earth is still
pale. A stain on the name of a Huron can only be hid by blood that comes
from the veins of an Indian. Let this Delaware die."

The effect of such an harangue, delivered in the nervous language and
with the emphatic manner of a Huron orator, could scarcely be mistaken.
Magua had so artfully blended the natural sympathies with the religious
superstition of his auditors, that their minds, already prepared by
custom to sacrifice a victim to the _manes_ of their countrymen, lost
every vestige of humanity in a wish for revenge. One warrior in
particular, a man of wild and ferocious mien, had been conspicuous for
the attention he had given to the words of the speaker. His countenance
had changed with each passing emotion, until it settled into a look of
deadly malice. As Magua ended he arose, and uttering the yell of a
demon, his polished little axe was seen glancing in the torch-light as
he whirled it above his head. The motion and the cry were too sudden for
words to interrupt his bloody intention. It appeared as if a bright
gleam shot from his hand, which was crossed at the same moment by a dark
and powerful line. The former was the tomahawk in its passage; the
latter the arm that Magua darted forward to divert its aim. The quick
and ready motion of the chief was not entirely too late. The keen weapon
cut the war-plume from the scalping-tuft of Uncas, and passed through
the frail wall of the lodge, as though it were hurled from some
formidable engine.

Duncan had seen the threatening action, and sprang upon his feet, with a
heart which while it leaped into his throat, swelled with the most
generous resolution in behalf of his friend. A glance told him that the
blow had failed, and terror changed to admiration. Uncas stood still,
looking his enemy in the eye with features that seemed superior to
emotion. Marble could not be colder, calmer, or steadier than the
countenance he put upon this sudden and vindictive attack. Then, as if
pitying a want of skill which had proved so fortunate to himself, he
smiled, and muttered a few words of contempt in his own tongue.

"No!" said Magua, after satisfying himself of the safety of the captive;
"the sun must shine on his shame; the squaws must see his flesh tremble,
or our revenge will be like the play of boys. Go! take him where there
is silence; let us see if a Delaware can sleep at night, and in the
morning die."

The young men whose duty it was to guard the prisoner instantly passed
their ligaments of bark across his arms, and led him from the lodge,
amid a profound and ominous silence. It was only as the figure of Uncas
stood in the opening of the door that his firm step hesitated. There he
turned, and, in the sweeping and haughty glance that he threw around the
circle of his enemies, Duncan caught a look which he was glad to
construe into an expression that he was not entirely deserted by hope.

Magua was content with his success, or too much occupied with his secret
purposes to push his inquiries any further. Shaking his mantle, and
folding it on his bosom, he also quitted the place, without pursuing a
subject which might have proved so fatal to the individual at his elbow.
Notwithstanding his rising resentment, his natural firmness, and his
anxiety in behalf of Uncas, Heyward felt sensibly relieved by the
absence of so dangerous and so subtle a foe. The excitement produced by
the speech gradually subsided. The warriors resumed their seats, and
clouds of smoke once more filled the lodge. For near half an hour, not a
syllable was uttered, or scarcely a look cast aside; a grave and
meditative silence being the ordinary succession to every scene of
violence and commotion among those beings, who were alike so impetuous
and yet so self-restrained.

When the chief who had solicited the aid of Duncan finished his pipe, he
made a final and successful movement towards departing. A motion of a
finger was the intimation he gave the supposed physician to follow; and
passing through the clouds of smoke, Duncan was glad, on more accounts
than one, to be able, at last, to breathe the pure air of a cool and
refreshing summer evening.

Instead of pursuing his way among those lodges where Heyward had already
made his unsuccessful search, his companion turned aside, and proceeded
directly towards the base of an adjacent mountain, which overhung the
temporary village. A thicket of brush skirted its foot, and it became
necessary to proceed through a crooked and narrow path. The boys had
resumed their sports in the clearing, and were enacting a mimic chase to
the post among themselves. In order to render their games as like the
reality as possible, one of the boldest of their number had conveyed a
few brands into some piles of tree-tops that had hitherto escaped the
burning. The blaze of one of these fires lighted the way of the chief
and Duncan, and gave a character of additional wildness to the rude
scenery. At a little distance from a bald rock, and directly in its
front, they entered a grassy opening, which they prepared to cross. Just
then fresh fuel was added to the fire, and a powerful light penetrated
even to that distant spot. It fell upon the white surface of the
mountain, and was reflected downwards upon a dark and mysterious-looking
being that arose, unexpectedly, in their path.

The Indian paused, as if doubtful whether to proceed, and permitted his
companion to approach his side. A large black ball, which at first
seemed stationary, now began to move in a manner that to the latter was
inexplicable. Again the fire brightened, and its glare fell more
distinctly on the object. Then even Duncan knew it, by its restless and
sideling attitudes, which kept the upper part of its form in constant
motion, while the animal itself appeared seated, to be a bear. Though it
growled loudly and fiercely, and there were instants when its glistening
eyeballs might be seen, it gave no other indications of hostility. The
Huron, at least, seemed assured that the intentions of this singular
intruder were peaceable, for after giving it an attentive examination,
he quietly pursued his course.

Duncan, who knew that the animal was often domesticated among the
Indians, followed the example of his companion, believing that some
favorite of the tribe had found its way into the thicket, in search of
food. They passed it unmolested. Though obliged to come nearly in
contact with the monster, the Huron, who had at first so warily
determined the character of his strange visitor, was now content with
proceeding without wasting a moment in further examination; but Heyward
was unable to prevent his eyes from looking backward, in salutary
watchfulness against attacks in the rear. His uneasiness was in no
degree diminished when he perceived the beast rolling along their path,
and following their footsteps. He would have spoken, but the Indian at
that moment shoved aside a door of bark, and entered a cavern in the
bosom of the mountain.

Profiting by so easy a method of retreat, Duncan stepped after him, and
was gladly closing the slight cover to the opening, when he felt it
drawn from his hand by the beast, whose shaggy form immediately darkened
the passage. They were now in a straight and long gallery, in a chasm of
the rocks, where retreat without encountering the animal was impossible.
Making the best of the circumstances, the young man pressed forward,
keeping as close as possible to his conductor. The bear growled
frequently at his heels, and once or twice its enormous paws were laid
on his person, as if disposed to prevent his further passage into the
den.

How long the nerves of Heyward would have sustained him in this
extraordinary situation, it might be difficult to decide; for, happily,
he soon found relief. A glimmer of light had constantly been in their
front, and they now arrived at the place whence it proceeded.

A large cavity in the rock had been rudely fitted to answer the purposes
of many apartments. The subdivisions were simple but ingenious, being
composed of stone, sticks, and bark, intermingled. Openings above
admitted the light by day, and at night fires and torches supplied the
place of the sun. Hither the Hurons had brought most of their valuables,
especially those which more particularly pertained to the nation; and
hither, as it now appeared, the sick woman, who was believed to be the
victim of supernatural power, had been transported also, under an
impression that her tormentor would find more difficulty in making his
assaults through walls of stone than through the leafy coverings of the
lodges. The apartment into which Duncan and his guide first entered, had
been exclusively devoted to her accommodation. The latter approached her
bedside, which was surrounded by females, in the centre of whom Heyward
was surprised to find his missing friend David.

A single look was sufficient to apprise the pretended leech that the
invalid was far beyond his powers of healing. She lay in a sort of
paralysis, indifferent to the objects which crowded before her sight,
and happily unconscious of suffering. Heyward was far from regretting
that his mummeries were to be performed on one who was much too ill to
take an interest in their failure or success. The slight qualm of
conscience which had been excited by the intended deception was
instantly appeased, and he began to collect his thoughts, in order to
enact his part with suitable spirit, when he found he was about to be
anticipated in his skill by an attempt to prove the power of music.

Gamut, who had stood prepared to pour forth his spirit in song when the
visitors entered, after delaying a moment, drew a strain from his pipe,
and commenced a hymn that might have worked a miracle, had faith in its
efficacy been of much avail. He was allowed to proceed to the close, the
Indians respecting his imaginary infirmity, and Duncan too glad of the
delay to hazard the slightest interruption. As the dying cadence of his
strains was falling on the ears of the latter, he started aside at
hearing them repeated behind him in a voice half human, half
sepulchral. Looking around, he beheld the shaggy monster seated on end
in a shadow of the cavern, where, while his restless body swung in the
uneasy manner of the animal, it repeated, in a sort of low growl, sound,
if not words, which bore some slight resemblance to the melody of the
singer.

The effect of so strange an echo on David may better be imagined than
described. His eyes opened as if he doubted their truth; and his voice
became instantly mute in excess of wonder. A deep-laid scheme, of
communicating some important intelligence to Heyward, was driven from
his recollection by an emotion which very nearly resembled fear, but
which he was fain to believe was admiration. Under its influence, he
exclaimed aloud--"She expects you, and is at hand;" and precipitately
left the cavern.

 Heyward searches in vain for Alice. He discovers that the Hurons, who think he is a doctor, want him to cure a sick Indian woman. At this moment, Magua appears and identifies Uncas as Le Cerf Agile. He convinces the other Hurons that Uncas should be tortured and killed the next morning. The Huron chief takes Heyward toward a cavern at the base of a nearby mountain. On the way, they encounter a strangely friendly bear that follows them closely. Inside the cavern, the sick woman rests in the company of other women and Gamut. The psalmodist sings at her bedside on behalf of her recovery; when the bear imitates his song, Gamut hurries off, dumbstruck. Heyward can see that the woman will soon die with or without his aid

