Chapter: "I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn
  As much as we this night have overwatched!"

  _Midsummer Night's Dream._


The instant the shock of this sudden misfortune had abated, Duncan began
to make his observations on the appearance and proceedings of their
captors. Contrary to the usages of the natives in the wantonness of
their success, they had respected, not only the persons of the trembling
sisters, but his own. The rich ornaments of his military attire had
indeed been repeatedly handled by different individuals of the tribe
with eyes expressing a savage longing to possess the baubles; but before
the customary violence could be resorted to, a mandate in the
authoritative voice of the large warrior already mentioned, stayed the
uplifted hand, and convinced Heyward that they were to be reserved for
some object of particular moment.

While, however, these manifestations of weakness were exhibited by the
young and vain of the party, the more experienced warriors continued
their search throughout both caverns, with an activity that denoted they
were far from being satisfied with those fruits of their conquest which
had already been brought to light. Unable to discover any new victim,
these diligent workers of vengeance soon approached their male
prisoners, pronouncing the name of "La Longue Carabine," with a
fierceness that could not easily be mistaken. Duncan affected not to
comprehend the meaning of their repeated and violent interrogatories,
while his companion was spared the effort of a similar deception by his
ignorance of French. Wearied, at length, by their importunities, and
apprehensive of irritating his captors by too stubborn a silence, the
former looked about him in quest of Magua; who might interpret his
answers to questions which were at each moment becoming more earnest and
threatening.

The conduct of this savage had formed a solitary exception to that of
all his fellows. While the others were busily occupied in seeking to
gratify their childish passion for finery, by plundering even the
miserable effects of the scout, or had been searching, with such
bloodthirsty vengeance in their looks, for their absent owner, Le Renard
had stood at a little distance from the prisoners, with a demeanor so
quiet and satisfied, as to betray that he had already effected the grand
purpose of this treachery. When the eyes of Heyward first met those of
his recent guide, he turned them away in horror at the sinister though
calm look he encountered. Conquering his disgust, however, he was able,
with an averted face, to address his successful enemy.

"Le Renard Subtil is too much of a warrior," said the reluctant Heyward,
"to refuse telling an unarmed man what his conquerors say."

"They ask for the hunter who knows the paths through the woods,"
returned Magua, in his broken English, laying his hand, at the same
time, with a ferocious smile, on the bundle of leaves with which a wound
on his own shoulder was bandaged. "La Longue Carabine! his rifle is
good, and his eye never shut; but, like the short gun of the white
chief, it is nothing against the life of Le Subtil!"

"Le Renard is too brave to remember the hurts received in war, or the
hands that gave them!"

"Was it war, when the tired Indian rested at the sugar-tree to taste his
corn! who filled the bushes with creeping enemies! who drew the knife!
whose tongue was peace, while his heart was colored with blood! Did
Magua say that the hatchet was out of the ground, and that his hand had
dug it up?"

As Duncan dared not retort upon his accuser by reminding him of his own
premeditated treachery, and disdained to deprecate his resentment by any
words of apology, he remained silent. Magua seemed also content to rest
the controversy as well as all further communication there, for he
resumed the leaning attitude against the rock, from which, in momentary
energy, he had arisen. But the cry of "La Longue Carabine" was renewed
the instant the impatient savages perceived that the short dialogue was
ended.

"You hear," said Magua, with stubborn indifference; "the red Hurons call
for the life of 'The Long Rifle,' or they will have the blood of them
that keep him hid!"

"He is gone--escaped; he is far beyond their reach."

Renard smiled with cold contempt, as he answered,--

"When the white man dies, he thinks he is at peace; but the redmen know
how to torture even the ghosts of their enemies. Where is his body? Let
the Hurons see his scalp!"

"He is not dead, but escaped."

Magua shook his head incredulously.

"Is he a bird, to spread his wings; or is he a fish, to swim without
air! The white chief reads in his books, and he believes the Hurons are
fools!"

"Though no fish, The Long Rifle can swim. He floated down the stream
when the powder was all burnt, and when the eyes of the Hurons were
behind a cloud."

"And why did the white chief stay?" demanded the still incredulous
Indian. "Is he a stone that goes to the bottom, or does the scalp burn
his head?"

"That I am not a stone, your dead comrade, who fell into the falls,
might answer, were the life still in him," said the provoked young man,
using, in his anger, that boastful language which was most likely to
excite the admiration of an Indian. "The white man thinks none but
cowards desert their women."

Magua muttered a few words, inaudibly, between his teeth, before he
continued, aloud,--

"Can the Delawares swim, too, as well as crawl in the bushes? Where is
Le Gros Serpent?"

Duncan, who perceived by the use of these Canadian appellations, that
his late companions were much better known to his enemies than to
himself, answered, reluctantly, "He also is gone down with the water."

"Le Cerf Agile is not here?"

"I know not whom you call 'The Nimble Deer,'" said Duncan, gladly
profiting by any excuse to create delay.

"Uncas," returned Magua, pronouncing the Delaware name with even greater
difficulty than he spoke his English words. "'Bounding Elk' is what the
white man says, when he calls to the young Mohican."

"Here is some confusion in names between us, Le Renard," said Duncan,
hoping to provoke a discussion. "_Daim_ is the French for deer, and
_cerf_ for stag; _elan_ is the true term, when one would speak of an
elk."

"Yes," muttered the Indian, in his native tongue; "the pale-faces are
prattling women! they have two words for each thing, while a redskin
will make the sound of his voice speak for him." Then changing his
language, he continued, adhering to the imperfect nomenclature of his
provincial instructors, "The deer is swift, but weak; the elk is swift,
but strong; and the son of Le Serpent is Le Cerf Agile. Has he leaped
the river to the woods?"

"If you mean the younger Delaware, he too is gone down with the water."

As there was nothing improbable to an Indian in the manner of the
escape, Magua admitted the truth of what he had heard, with a readiness
that afforded additional evidence how little he would prize such
worthless captives. With his companions, however, the feeling was
manifestly different.

The Hurons had awaited the result of this short dialogue with
characteristic patience, and with a silence that increased until there
was a general stillness in the band. When Heyward ceased to speak, they
turned their eyes, as one man, on Magua, demanding, in this expressive
manner, an explanation of what had been said. Their interpreter pointed
to the river, and made them acquainted with the result, as much by the
action as by the few words he uttered. When the fact was generally
understood, the savages raised a frightful yell, which declared the
extent of their disappointment. Some ran furiously to the water's edge,
beating the air with frantic gestures, while others spat upon the
element, to resent the supposed treason it had committed against their
acknowledged rights as conquerors. A few, and they not the least
powerful and terrific of the band, threw lowering looks, in which the
fiercest passion was only tempered by habitual self-command, at those
captives who still remained in their power; while one or two even gave
vent to their malignant feelings by the most menacing gestures, against
which neither the sex nor the beauty of the sisters was any protection.
The young soldier made a desperate, but fruitless effort, to spring to
the side of Alice, when he saw the dark hand of a savage twisted in the
rich tresses which were flowing in volumes over her shoulders, while a
knife was passed around the head from which they fell, as if to denote
the horrid manner in which it was about to be robbed of its beautiful
ornament. But his hands were bound; and at the first movement he made,
he felt the grasp of the powerful Indian who directed the band, pressing
his shoulder like a vise. Immediately conscious how unavailing any
struggle against such an overwhelming force must prove, he submitted to
his fate, encouraging his gentle companions by a few low and tender
assurances that the natives seldom failed to threaten more than they
performed.

But, while Duncan resorted to these words of consolation to quiet the
apprehensions of the sisters, he was not so weak as to deceive himself.
He well knew that the authority of an Indian chief was so little
conventional, that it was oftener maintained by physical superiority
than by any moral supremacy he might possess. The danger was, therefore,
magnified exactly in proportion to the number of the savage spirits by
which they were surrounded. The most positive mandate from him who
seemed the acknowledged leader, was liable to be violated at each
moment, by any rash hand that might choose to sacrifice a victim to the
_manes_ of some dead friend or relative. While, therefore, he sustained
an outward appearance of calmness and fortitude, his heart leaped into
his throat, whenever any of their fierce captors drew nearer than common
to the helpless sisters, or fastened one of their sullen wandering looks
on those fragile forms which were so little able to resist the slightest
assault.

His apprehensions were, however, greatly relieved, when he saw that the
leader had summoned his warriors to himself in council. Their
deliberations were short, and it would seem, by the silence of most of
the party, the decision unanimous. By the frequency with which the few
speakers pointed in the direction of the encampment of Webb, it was
apparent they dreaded the approach of danger from that quarter. This
consideration probably hastened their determination, and quickened the
subsequent movements.

During this short conference, Heyward, finding a respite from his
greatest fears, had leisure to admire the cautious manner in which the
Hurons had made their approaches, even after hostilities had ceased.

It has already been stated, that the upper half of the island was a
naked rock, and destitute of any other defences than a few scattered
logs of drift-wood. They had selected this point to make their descent,
having borne the canoe through the wood around the cataract for that
purpose. Placing their arms in the little vessel, a dozen men clinging
to its sides had trusted themselves to the direction of the canoe, which
was controlled by two of the most skilful warriors, in attitudes that
enabled them to command a view of the dangerous passage. Favored by this
arrangement, they touched the head of the island at that point which had
proved so fatal to their first adventures, but with the advantages of
superior numbers, and the possession of fire-arms. That such had been
the manner of their descent was rendered quite apparent to Duncan; for
they now bore the light bark from the upper end of the rock, and placed
it in the water, near the mouth of the outer cavern. As soon as this
change was made, the leader made signs to the prisoners to descend and
enter.

As resistance was impossible, and remonstrance useless, Heyward set the
example of submission, by leading the way into the canoe, where he was
soon seated with the sisters, and the still wondering David.
Notwithstanding the Hurons were necessarily ignorant of the little
channels among the eddies and rapids of the stream, they knew the common
signs of such a navigation too well to commit any material blunder. When
the pilot chosen for the task of guiding the canoe had taken his
station, the whole band plunged again into the river, the vessel glided
down the current, and in a few moments the captives found themselves on
the south bank of the stream, nearly opposite to the point where they
had struck it the preceding evening.

Here was held another short but earnest consultation, during which the
horses, to whose panic their owners ascribed their heaviest misfortune,
were led from the cover of the woods, and brought to the sheltered spot.
The band now divided. The great chief so often mentioned, mounting the
charger of Heyward, led the way directly across the river, followed by
most of his people, and disappeared in the woods, leaving the prisoners
in charge of six savages, at whose head was Le Renard Subtil. Duncan
witnessed all their movements with renewed uneasiness.

He had been fond of believing, from the uncommon forbearance of the
savages, that he was reserved as a prisoner to be delivered to Montcalm.
As the thoughts of those who are in misery seldom slumber, and the
invention is never more lively than when it is stimulated by hope,
however feeble and remote, he had even imagined that the parental
feelings of Munro were to be made instrumental in seducing him from his
duty to the king. For though the French commander bore a high character
for courage and enterprise, he was also thought to be expert in those
political practices, which do not always respect the nicer obligations
of morality, and which so generally disgraced the European diplomacy of
that period.

All those busy and ingenious speculations were now annihilated by the
conduct of his captors. That portion of the band who had followed the
huge warrior took the route towards the foot of the Horican, and no
other expectation was left for himself and companions, than that they
were to be retained as hopeless captives by their savage conquerors.
Anxious to know the worst, and willing, in such an emergency, to try the
potency of gold, he overcame his reluctance to speak to Magua.
Addressing himself to his former guide, who had now assumed the
authority and manner of one who was to direct the future movements of
the party, he said, in tones as friendly and confiding as he could
assume,--

"I would speak to Magua, what is fit only for so great a chief to hear."

The Indian turned his eyes on the young soldier scornfully, as he
answered,--

"Speak; trees have no ears!"

"But the red Hurons are not deaf; and counsel that is fit for the great
men of a nation would make the young warriors drunk. If Magua will not
listen, the officer of the king knows how to be silent."

The savage spoke carelessly to his comrades, who were busied, after
their awkward manner, in preparing the horses for the reception of the
sisters, and moved a little to one side, whither, by a cautious gesture,
he induced Heyward to follow.

"Now speak," he said; "if the words are such as Magua should hear."

"Le Renard Subtil has proved himself worthy of the honorable name given
to him by his Canada fathers," commenced Heyward; "I see his wisdom, and
all that he has done for us, and shall remember it, when the hour to
reward him arrives. Yes! Renard has proved that he is not only a great
chief in council, but one who knows how to deceive his enemies!"

"What has Renard done?" coldly demanded the Indian.

"What! has he not seen that the woods were filled with outlying parties
of the enemies, and that the Serpent could not steal through them
without being seen? Then, did he not lose his path to blind the eyes of
the Hurons? Did he not pretend to go back to his tribe, who had treated
him ill, and driven him from their wigwams like a dog? And, when we saw
what he wished to do, did we not aid him, by making a false face, that
the Hurons might think the white man believed that his friend was his
enemy? Is not all this true? And when Le Subtil had shut the eyes and
stopped the ears of his nation by his wisdom, did they not forget that
they had once done him wrong, and forced him to flee to the Mohawks? And
did they not leave him on the south side of the river, with their
prisoners, while they have gone foolishly on the north? Does not Renard
mean to turn like a fox on his footsteps, and to carry to the rich and
gray-headed Scotchman his daughters? Yes, Magua, I see it all, and I
have already been thinking how so much wisdom and honesty should be
repaid. First, the chief of William Henry will give as a great chief
should for such a service. The medal[16] of Magua will no longer be of
tin, but of beaten gold; his horn will run over with powder; dollars
will be as plenty in his pouch as pebbles on the shore of Horican; and
the deer will lick his hand, for they will know it to be vain to fly
from the rifle he will carry! As for myself, I know not how to exceed
the gratitude of the Scotchman, but I--yes, I will--"

"What will the young chief who comes from towards the sun, give?"
demanded the Huron, observing that Heyward hesitated in his desire to
end the enumeration of benefits with that which might form the climax of
an Indian's wishes.

"He will make the fire-water from the Islands in the salt lake flow
before the wigwam of Magua, until the heart of the Indian shall be
lighter than the feathers of the humming-bird, and his breath sweeter
than the wild honeysuckle."

Le Renard had listened gravely as Heyward slowly proceeded in his subtle
speech. When the young man mentioned the artifice he supposed the Indian
to have practised on his own nation, the countenance of the listener was
veiled in an expression of cautious gravity. At the allusion to the
injury which Duncan affected to believe had driven the Huron from his
native tribe, a gleam of such ungovernable ferocity flashed from the
other's eyes, as induced the adventurous speaker to believe he had
struck the proper chord. And by the time he reached the part where he so
artfully blended the thirst of vengeance with the desire of gain, he
had, at least, obtained a command of the deepest attention of the
savage. The question put by Le Renard had been calm, and with all the
dignity of an Indian; but it was quite apparent, by the thoughtful
expression of the listener's countenance, that the answer was most
cunningly devised. The Huron mused a few moments, and then laying his
hand on the rude bandages of his wounded shoulder, he said, with some
energy,--

"Do friends make such remarks?"

"Would La Longue Carabine cut one so light on an enemy?"

"Do the Delawares crawl upon those they love, like snakes, twisting
themselves to strike?"

"Would Le Gros Serpent have been heard by the ears of one he wished to
be deaf?"

"Does the white chief burn his powder in the faces of his brothers?"

"Does he ever miss his aim, when seriously bent to kill?" returned
Duncan, smiling with well acted sincerity.

Another long and deliberate pause succeeded these sententious questions
and ready replies. Duncan saw that the Indian hesitated. In order to
complete his victory, he was in the act of recommencing the enumeration
of the rewards, when Magua made an expressive gesture and said--

"Enough; Le Renard is a wise chief, and what he does will be seen. Go,
and keep the mouth shut. When Magua speaks, it will be the time to
answer."

Heyward, perceiving that the eyes of his companion were warily fastened
on the rest of the band, fell back immediately, in order to avoid the
appearance of any suspicious confederacy with their leader. Magua
approached the horses, and affected to be well pleased with the
diligence and ingenuity of his comrades. He then signed to Heyward to
assist the sisters into the saddles, for he seldom deigned to use the
English tongue, unless urged by some motive of more than usual moment.

There was no longer any plausible pretext for delay; and Duncan was
obliged, however reluctantly, to comply. As he performed this office, he
whispered his reviving hopes in the ears of the trembling females, who,
through dread of encountering the savage countenances of their captors,
seldom raised their eyes from the ground. The mare of David had been
taken with the followers of the large chief; in consequence, its owner,
as well as Duncan, was compelled to journey on foot. The latter did not,
however, so much regret this circumstance, as it might enable him to
retard the speed of the party; for he still turned his longing looks in
the direction of Fort Edward, in the vain expectation of catching some
sound from that quarter of the forest, which might denote the approach
of succor.

When all were prepared, Magua made the signal to proceed, advancing in
front to lead the party in person. Next followed David, who was
gradually coming to a true sense of his condition, as the effects of the
wound became less and less apparent. The sisters rode in his rear, with
Heyward at their side, while the Indians flanked the party, and brought
up the close of the march, with a caution that seemed never to tire.

In this manner they proceeded in uninterrupted silence, except when
Heyward addressed some solitary word of comfort to the females, or David
gave vent to the moanings of his spirit in piteous exclamations, which
he intended should express the humility of resignation. Their direction
lay towards the south, and in a course nearly opposite to the road to
William Henry. Notwithstanding this apparent adherence in Magua to the
original determination of his conquerors, Heyward could not believe his
tempting bait was so soon forgotten; and he knew the windings of an
Indian path too well, to suppose that its apparent course led directly
to its object, when artifice was at all necessary. Mile after mile was,
however, passed through the boundless woods, in this painful manner,
without any prospect of a termination to their journey. Heyward watched
the sun, as he darted his meridian rays through the branches of the
trees, and pined for the moment when the policy of Magua should change
their route to one more favorable to his hopes. Sometimes he fancied the
wary savage, despairing of passing the arm of Montcalm in safety, was
holding his way towards a well-known border settlement, where a
distinguished officer of the crown, and a favored friend of the Six
Nations, held his large possessions, as well as his usual residence. To
be delivered into the hands of Sir William Johnson was far preferable to
being led into the wilds of Canada; but in order to effect even the
former, it would be necessary to traverse the forest for many weary
leagues, each step of which was carrying him farther from the scene of
the war, and, consequently, from the post, not only of honor, but of
duty.

Cora alone remembered the parting injunctions of the scout, and whenever
an opportunity offered, she stretched forth her arm to bend aside the
twigs that met her hands. But the vigilance of the Indians rendered this
act of precaution both difficult and dangerous. She was often defeated
in her purpose, by encountering their watchful eyes, when it became
necessary to feign an alarm she did not feel, and occupy the limb by
some gesture of feminine apprehension. Once, and once only, was she
completely successful; when she broke down the bough of a large sumach,
and, by a sudden thought, let her glove fall at the same instant. This
sign, intended for those that might follow, was observed by one of her
conductors, who restored the glove, broke the remaining branches of the
bush in such a manner that it appeared to proceed from the struggling of
some beast in its branches, and then laid his hand on his tomahawk, with
a look so significant, that it put an effectual end to these stolen
memorials of their passage.

As there were horses, to leave the prints of their footsteps, in both
bands of the Indians, this interruption cut off any probable hopes of
assistance being conveyed through the means of their trail.

Heyward would have ventured a remonstrance, had there been anything
encouraging in the gloomy reserve of Magua. But the savage, during all
this time, seldom turned to look at his followers, and never spoke. With
the sun for his only guide, or aided by such blind marks as are only
known to the sagacity of a native, he held his way along the barrens of
pine, through occasional little fertile vales, across brooks and
rivulets, and over undulating hills, with the accuracy of instinct, and
nearly with the directness of a bird. He never seemed to hesitate.
Whether the path was hardly distinguishable, whether it disappeared, or
whether it lay beaten and plain before him, made no sensible difference
in his speed or certainty. It seemed as if fatigue could not affect him.
Whenever the eyes of the wearied travellers rose from the decayed leaves
over which they trod, his dark form was to be seen glancing among the
stems of the trees in front, his head immovably fastened in a forward
position, with the light plume on his crest fluttering in a current of
air, made solely by the swiftness of his own motion.

But all this diligence and speed were not without an object. After
crossing a low vale, through which a gushing brook meandered, he
suddenly ascended a hill, so steep and difficult of ascent, that the
sisters were compelled to alight, in order to follow. When the summit
was gained, they found themselves on a level spot, but thinly covered
with trees, under one of which Magua had thrown his dark form, as if
willing and ready to seek that rest which was so much needed by the
whole party.




            "Cursed by my tribe
  If I forgive him."

  _Shylock._


The Indian had selected, for this desirable purpose, one of those steep,
pyramidal hills, which bear a strong resemblance to artificial mounds,
and which so frequently occur in the valleys of America. The one in
question was high and precipitous; its top flattened, as usual; but with
one of its sides more than ordinarily irregular. It possessed no other
apparent advantage for a resting-place than in its elevation and form,
which might render defence easy, and surprise nearly impossible. As
Heyward, however, no longer expected that rescue which time and distance
now rendered so improbable, he regarded these little peculiarities with
an eye devoid of interest, devoting himself entirely to the comfort and
condolence of his feebler companions. The Narragansetts were suffered to
browse on the branches of the trees and shrubs that were thinly
scattered over the summit of the hill, while the remains of their
provisions were spread under the shade of a beech, that stretched its
horizontal limbs like a canopy above them.

Notwithstanding the swiftness of their flight, one of the Indians had
found an opportunity to strike a straggling fawn with an arrow, and had
borne the more preferable fragments of the victim patiently on his
shoulders, to the stopping-place. Without any aid from the science of
cookery, he was immediately employed, in common with his fellows, in
gorging himself with this digestible sustenance. Magua alone sat apart,
without participation in the revolting meal, and apparently buried in
the deepest thought.

This abstinence, so remarkable in an Indian, when he possessed the means
of satisfying hunger, at length attracted the notice of Heyward. The
young man willingly believed that the Huron deliberated on the most
eligible manner of eluding the vigilance of his associates. With a view
to assist his plans, by any suggestion of his own, and to strengthen the
temptation, he left the beech, and straggled as if without an object, to
the spot where Le Renard was seated.

"Has not Magua kept the sun in his face long enough to escape all danger
from the Canadians?" he asked, as though no longer doubtful of the good
intelligence established between them; "and will not the chief of
William Henry be better pleased to see his daughters before another
night may have hardened his heart to their loss, to make him less
liberal in his reward?"

"Do the pale-faces love their children less in the morning than at
night?" asked the Indian, coldly.

"By no means," returned Heyward, anxious to recall his error, if he had
made one; "the white man may, and does often, forget the burial-place of
his fathers; he sometimes ceases to remember those he should love and
has promised to cherish; but the affection of a parent for his child is
never permitted to die."

"And is the heart of the white-headed chief soft, and will he think of
the babes that his squaws have given him? He is hard to his warriors,
and his eyes are made of stone!"

"He is severe to the idle and wicked, but to the sober and deserving he
is a leader, but just and humane. I have known many fond and tender
parents, but never have I seen a man whose heart was softer towards his
child. You have seen the gray-head in front of his warriors, Magua; but
I have seen his eyes swimming in water, when he spoke of those children
who are now in your power!"

Heyward paused, for he knew not how to construe the remarkable
expression that gleamed across the swarthy features of the attentive
Indian. At first it seemed as if the remembrance of the promised reward
grew vivid in his mind, while he listened to the sources of parental
feeling which were to assure its possession; but as Duncan proceeded,
the expression of joy became so fiercely malignant, that it was
impossible not to apprehend it proceeded from some passion more sinister
than avarice.

"Go," said the Huron, suppressing the alarming exhibition in an instant,
in a death-like calmness of countenance; "go to the dark-haired
daughter, and say, Magua waits to speak. The father will remember what
the child promises."

Duncan, who interpreted this speech to express a wish for some
additional pledge that the promised gifts should not be withheld,
slowly and reluctantly repaired to the place where the sisters were now
resting from their fatigue, to communicate its purport to Cora.

"You understand the nature of an Indian's wishes," he concluded, as he
led her towards the place where she was expected, "and must be prodigal
of your offers of powder and blankets. Ardent spirits are, however, the
most prized by such as he; nor would it be amiss to add some boon from
your own hand, with that grace you so well know how to practise.
Remember, Cora, that on your presence of mind and ingenuity even your
life, as well as that of Alice, may in some measure depend."

"Heyward, and yours!"

"Mine is of little moment; it is already sold to my king, and is a prize
to be seized by any enemy who may possess the power. I have no father to
expect me, and but few friends to lament a fate which I have courted
with the insatiable longings of youth after distinction. But hush! we
approach the Indian. Magua, the lady with whom you wish to speak is
here."

The Indian rose slowly from his seat, and stood for near a minute silent
and motionless. He then signed with his hand for Heyward to retire,
saying coldly,--

"When the Huron talks to the women, his tribe shut their ears."

Duncan, still lingering, as if refusing to comply, Cora said, with a
calm smile--

"You hear, Heyward, and delicacy at least should urge you to retire. Go
to Alice, and comfort her with our reviving prospects."

She waited until he had departed, and then turning to the native, with
the dignity of her sex in her voice and manner, she added, "What would
Le Renard say to the daughter of Munro?"

"Listen," said the Indian, laying his hand firmly upon her arm, as if
willing to draw her utmost attention to his words; a movement that Cora
as firmly but quietly repulsed, by extricating the limb from his grasp:
"Magua was born a chief and a warrior among the red Hurons of the lakes;
he saw the suns of twenty summers make the snows of twenty winters run
off in the streams, before he saw a pale-face; and he was happy! Then
his Canada fathers came into the woods, and taught him to drink the
fire-water, and he became a rascal. The Hurons drove him from the graves
of his fathers, as they would chase the hunted buffalo. He ran down the
shores of the lakes, and followed their outlet to the 'city of cannon.'
There he hunted and fished, till the people chased him again through the
woods into the arms of his enemies. The chief, who was born a Huron, was
at last a warrior among the Mohawks!"

"Something like this I had heard before," said Cora, observing that he
paused to suppress those passions which began to burn with too bright a
flame, as he recalled the recollection of his supposed injuries.

"Was it the fault of Le Renard that his head was not made of rock? Who
gave him the fire-water? who made him a villain? 'Twas the pale-faces,
the people of your own color."

"And am I answerable that thoughtless and unprincipled men exist, whose
shades of countenance may resemble mine?" Cora calmly demanded of the
excited savage.

"No; Magua is a man, and not a fool; such as you never open their lips
to the burning stream: the Great Spirit has given you wisdom!"

"What then have I to do, or say, in the matter of your misfortunes, not
to say of your errors?"

"Listen," repeated the Indian, resuming his earnest attitude; "when his
English and French fathers dug up the hatchet, Le Renard struck the
war-post of the Mohawks, and went out against his own nation. The
pale-faces have driven the redskins from their hunting-grounds, and now
when they fight, a white man leads the way. The old chief at Horican,
your father, was the great captain of our war-party. He said to the
Mohawks do this, and do that, and he was minded. He made a law, that if
an Indian swallowed the fire-water, and came into the cloth wigwams of
his warriors, it should not be forgotten. Magua foolishly opened his
mouth, and the hot liquor led him into the cabin of Munro. What did the
gray-head? let his daughter say."

"He forgot not his words, and did justice by punishing the offender,"
said the undaunted daughter.

"Justice!" repeated the Indian, casting an oblique glance of the most
ferocious expression at her unyielding countenance; "is it justice to
make evil, and then punish for it? Magua was not himself; it was the
fire-water that spoke and acted for him! but Munro did not believe it.
The Huron chief was tied up before all the pale-faced warriors, and
whipped like a dog."

Cora remained silent, for she knew not how to palliate this imprudent
severity on the part of her father, in a manner to suit the
comprehension of an Indian.

"See!" continued Magua, tearing aside the slight calico that very
imperfectly concealed his painted breast; "here are scars given by
knives and bullets--of these a warrior may boast before his nation; but
the gray-head has left marks on the back of the Huron chief, that he
must hide, like a squaw, under this painted cloth of the whites."

"I had thought," resumed Cora, "that an Indian warrior was patient, and
that his spirit felt not, and knew not, the pain his body suffered."

"When the Chippewas tied Magua to the stake, and cut this gash," said
the other, laying his finger on a deep scar, "the Huron laughed in their
faces, and told them, Women struck so light! His spirit was then in the
clouds! But when he felt the blows of Munro, his spirit lay under the
birch. The spirit of a Huron is never drunk; it remembers forever!"

"But it may be appeased. If my father has done you this injustice, show
him how an Indian can forgive an injury, and take back his daughters.
You have heard from Major Heyward--"

Magua shook his head, forbidding the repetition of offers he so much
despised.

"What would you have?" continued Cora, after a most painful pause, while
the conviction forced itself on her mind that the too sanguine and
generous Duncan had been cruelly deceived by the cunning of the savage.

"What a Huron loves--good for good; bad for bad!"

"You would then revenge the injury inflicted by Munro on his helpless
daughters. Would it not be more like a man to go before his face, and
take the satisfaction of a warrior?"

"The arms of the pale-faces are long, and their knives sharp!" returned
the savage, with a malignant laugh: "why should Le Renard go among the
muskets of his warriors, when he holds the spirit of the gray-head in
his hand?"

"Name your intention, Magua," said Cora, struggling with herself to
speak with steady calmness. "Is it to lead us prisoners to the woods, or
do you contemplate even some greater evil? Is there no reward, no means
of palliating the injury, and of softening your heart? At least, release
my gentle sister, and pour out all your malice on me. Purchase wealth by
her safety, and satisfy your revenge with a single victim. The loss of
both of his daughters might bring the aged man to his grave, and where
would then be the satisfaction of Le Renard?"

"Listen," said the Indian again. "The light eyes can go back to the
Horican, and tell the old chief what has been done, if the dark-haired
woman will swear by the Great Spirit of her fathers to tell no lie."

"What must I promise?" demanded Cora, still maintaining a secret
ascendency over the fierce native, by the collected and feminine dignity
of her presence.

"When Magua left his people, his wife was given to another chief; he has
now made friends with the Hurons, and will go back to the graves of his
tribe, on the shores of the great lake. Let the daughter of the English
chief follow, and live in his wigwam forever."

However revolting a proposal of such a character might prove to Cora,
she retained, notwithstanding her powerful disgust, sufficient
self-command to reply, without betraying the weakness.

"And what pleasure would Magua find in sharing his cabin with a wife he
did not love; one who would be of a nation and color different from his
own? It would be better to take the gold of Munro, and buy the heart of
some Huron maid with his gifts."

The Indian made no reply for near a minute, but bent his fierce looks on
the countenance of Cora, in such wavering glances, that her eyes sank
with shame, under an impression that, for the first time, they had
encountered an expression that no chaste female might endure. While she
was shrinking within herself, in dread of having her ears wounded by
some proposal still more shocking than the last, the voice of Magua
answered, in its tones of deepest malignancy--

"When the blows scorched the back of the Huron, he would know where to
find a woman to feel the smart. The daughter of Munro would draw his
water, hoe his corn, and cook his venison. The body of the gray-head
would sleep among his cannon, but his heart would lie within reach of
the knife of Le Subtil."

"Monster! well dost thou deserve thy treacherous name!" cried Cora, in
an ungovernable burst of filial indignation. "None but a fiend could
meditate such a vengeance! But thou overratest thy power! You shall find
it is, in truth, the heart of Munro you hold, and that it will defy your
utmost malice!"

The Indian answered this bold defiance by a ghastly smile, that showed
an unaltered purpose, while he motioned her away, as if to close the
conference forever. Cora, already regretting her precipitation, was
obliged to comply, for Magua instantly left the spot, and approached his
gluttonous comrades. Heyward flew to the side of the agitated female,
and demanded the result of a dialogue that he had watched at a distance
with so much interest. But unwilling to alarm the fears of Alice, she
evaded a direct reply, betraying only by her countenance her utter want
of success, and keeping her anxious looks fastened on the slightest
movements of their captors. To the reiterated and earnest questions of
her sister, concerning their probable destination, she made no other
answer than by pointing towards the dark group, with an agitation she
could not control, and murmuring, as she folded Alice to her bosom--

"There, there; read our fortunes in their faces; we shall see; we shall
see!"

The action, and the choked utterance of Cora, spoke more impressively
than any words, and quickly drew the attention of her companions on that
spot where her own was riveted with an intenseness that nothing but the
importance of the stake could create.

When Magua reached the cluster of lolling savages, who, gorged with
their disgusting meal, lay stretched on the earth in brutal indulgence,
he commenced speaking with the dignity of an Indian chief. The first
syllables he uttered had the effect to cause his listeners to raise
themselves in attitudes of respectful attention. As the Huron used his
native language, the prisoners, notwithstanding the caution of the
natives had kept them within the swing of their tomahawks, could only
conjecture the substance of his harrangue, from the nature of those
significant gestures with which an Indian always illustrates his
eloquence.

At first, the language, as well as the action of Magua, appeared calm
and deliberate. When he had succeeded in sufficiently awakening the
attention of his comrades, Heyward fancied, by his pointing so
frequently towards the direction of the great lakes, that he spoke of
the land of their fathers, and of their distant tribe. Frequent
indications of applause escaped the listeners, who, as they uttered the
expressive "Hugh!" looked at each other in commendation of the speaker.
Le Renard was too skilful to neglect his advantage. He now spoke of the
long and painful route by which they had left those spacious grounds and
happy villages, to come and battle against the enemies of their
Canadian fathers. He enumerated the warriors of the party; their
several merits; their frequent services to the nation; their wounds, and
the number of the scalps they had taken. Whenever he alluded to any
present (and the subtle Indian neglected none), the dark countenance of
the flattered individual gleamed with exultation, nor did he even
hesitate to assert the truth of the words, by gestures of applause and
confirmation. Then the voice of the speaker fell, and lost the loud,
animated tones of triumph with which he had enumerated their deeds of
success and victory. He described the cataract of Glenn's; the
impregnable position of its rocky island, with its caverns, and its
numerous rapids and whirlpools; he named the name of La Longue Carabine,
and paused until the forest beneath them had sent up the last echo of a
loud and long yell, with which the hated appellation was received. He
pointed towards the youthful military captive, and described the death
of a favorite warrior, who had been precipitated into the deep ravine by
his hand. He not only mentioned the fate of him who, hanging between
heaven and earth, had presented such a spectacle of horror to the whole
band, but he acted anew the terrors of his situation, his resolution and
his death, on the branches of a sapling; and, finally, he rapidly
recounted the manner in which each of their friends had fallen, never
failing to touch upon their courage, and their most acknowledged
virtues. When this recital of events was ended, his voice once more
changed, and became plaintive, and even musical, in its low guttural
sounds. He now spoke of the wives and children of the slain; their
destitution; their misery, both physical and moral; their distance; and,
at last, of their unavenged wrongs. Then suddenly lifting his voice to a
pitch of terrific energy, he concluded, by demanding,--

"Are the Hurons dogs to bear this? Who shall say to the wife of Menowgua
that the fishes have his scalp, and that his nation have not taken
revenge! Who will dare meet the mother of Wassawattimie, that scornful
woman, with his hands clean! What shall be said to the old men when they
ask us for scalps, and we have not a hair from a white head to give
them! The women will point their fingers at us. There is a dark spot on
the names of the Hurons, and it must be hid in blood!"

His voice was no longer audible in the burst of rage which now broke
into the air, as if the wood, instead of containing so small a band, was
filled with the nation. During the foregoing address the progress of the
speaker was too plainly read by those most interested in his success,
through the medium of the countenances of the men he addressed. They had
answered his melancholy and mourning by sympathy and sorrow; his
assertions, by gestures of confirmation; and his boastings, with the
exultation of savages. When he spoke of courage, their looks were firm
and responsive; when he alluded to their injuries, their eyes kindled
with fury; when he mentioned the taunts of the women, they dropped their
heads in shame; but when he pointed out their means of vengeance, he
struck a chord which never failed to thrill in the breast of an Indian.
With the first intimation that it was within their reach, the whole band
sprang upon their feet as one man; giving utterance to their rage in the
most frantic cries, they rushed upon their prisoners in a body with
drawn knives and uplifted tomahawks. Heyward threw himself between the
sisters and the foremost, whom he grappled with a desperate strength
that for a moment checked his violence. This unexpected resistance gave
Magua time to interpose, and with rapid enunciation and animated
gesture, he drew the attention of the band again to himself. In that
language he knew so well how to assume, he diverted his comrades from
their instant purpose, and invited them to prolong the misery of their
victims. His proposal was received with acclamations, and executed with
the swiftness of thought.

Two powerful warriors cast themselves on Heyward, while another was
occupied in securing the less active singing-master. Neither of the
captives, however, submitted without a desperate though fruitless
struggle. Even David hurled his assailant to the earth; nor was Heyward
secured until the victory over his companion enabled the Indians to
direct their united force to that object. He was then bound and fastened
to the body of the sapling, on whose branches Magua had acted the
pantomime of the falling Huron. When the young soldier regained his
recollection, he had the painful certainty before his eyes that a common
fate was intended for the whole party. On his right was Cora, in a
durance similar to his own, pale and agitated, but with an eye, whose
steady look still read the proceedings of their enemies. On his left,
the withes which bound her to a pine, performed that office for Alice
which her trembling limbs refused, and alone kept her fragile form from
sinking. Her hands were clasped before her in prayer, but instead of
looking upwards towards that power which alone could rescue them, her
unconscious looks wandered to the countenance of Duncan with infantile
dependency. David had contended, and the novelty of the circumstance
held him silent, in deliberation on the propriety of the unusual
occurrence.

The vengeance of the Hurons had now taken a new direction, and they
prepared to execute it with that barbarous ingenuity with which they
were familiarized by the practice of centuries. Some sought knots, to
raise the blazing pile; one was riving the splinters of pine, in order
to pierce the flesh of their captives with the burning fragments; and
others bent the tops of two saplings to the earth, in order to suspend
Heyward by the arms between the recoiling branches. But the vengeance of
Magua sought a deeper and a more malignant enjoyment.

While the less refined monsters of the band prepared, before the eyes of
those who were to suffer, these well known and vulgar means of torture,
he approached Cora, and pointed out, with the most malign expression of
countenance, the speedy fate that awaited her:--

"Ha!" he added, "what says the daughter of Munro? Her head is too good
to find a pillow in the wigwam of Le Renard; will she like it better
when it rolls about this hill a plaything for the wolves? Her bosom
cannot nurse the children of a Huron; she will see it spit upon by
Indians!"

"What means the monster!" demanded the astonished Heyward.

"Nothing!" was the firm reply. "He is a savage, a barbarous and ignorant
savage, and knows not what he does. Let us find leisure, with our dying
breath, to ask for him penitence and pardon."

"Pardon!" echoed the fierce Huron, mistaking, in his anger, the meaning
of her words; "the memory of an Indian is longer than the arm of the
pale-faces; his mercy shorter than their justice! Say; shall I send the
yellow hair to her father, and will you follow Magua to the great lakes,
to carry his water, and feed him with corn?"

Cora beckoned him away, with an emotion of disgust she could not
control.

"Leave me," she said, with a solemnity that for a moment checked the
barbarity of the Indian; "you mingle bitterness in my prayers; you stand
between me and my God!"

The slight impression produced on the savage was, however, soon
forgotten, and he continued pointing, with taunting irony, towards
Alice.

"Look! the child weeps! She is young to die! Send her to Munro, to comb
his gray hairs, and keep life in the heart of the old man."

Cora could not resist the desire to look upon her youthful sister, in
whose eyes she met an imploring glance, that betrayed the longings of
nature.

"What says he, dearest Cora?" asked the trembling voice of Alice. "Did
he speak of sending me to our father?"

For many moments the elder sister looked upon the younger, with a
countenance that wavered with powerful and contending emotions. At
length she spoke, though her tones had lost their rich and calm fulness,
in an expression of tenderness that seemed maternal.

"Alice," she said, "the Huron offers us both life, nay, more than both;
he offers to restore Duncan, our invaluable Duncan, as well as you, to
our friends--to our father--to our heart-stricken, childless father, if
I will bow down this rebellious, stubborn pride of mine, and consent--"

Her voice became choked, and clasping her hands, she looked upward, as
if seeking, in her agony, intelligence from a wisdom that was infinite.

"Say on," cried Alice; "to what, dearest Cora? O, that the proffer were
made to me! to save you, to cheer our aged father, to restore Duncan,
how cheerfully could I die!"

"Die!" repeated Cora, with a calmer and a firmer voice, "that were easy!
Perhaps the alternative may not be less so. He would have me," she
continued, her accents sinking under a deep consciousness of the
degradation of the proposal, "follow him to the wilderness; go to the
habitations of the Hurons; to remain there: in short to become his wife!
Speak, then, Alice; child of my affections! sister of my love! And you,
too, Major Heyward, aid my weak reason with your counsel. Is life to be
purchased by such a sacrifice? Will you, Alice, receive it at my hands
at such a price? And _you_, Duncan, guide me; control me between you;
for I am wholly yours."

"Would I!" echoed the indignant and astonished youth. "Cora! Cora! you
jest with our misery! Name not the horrid alternative again; the thought
itself is worse than a thousand deaths."

"That such would be _your_ answer, I well knew!" exclaimed Cora, her
cheeks flushing, and her dark eyes once more sparkling with the
lingering emotions of a woman. "What says my Alice? for her will I
submit without another murmur."

Although both Heyward and Cora listened with painful suspense and the
deepest attention, no sounds were heard in reply. It appeared as if the
delicate and sensitive form of Alice would shrink into itself, as she
listened to this proposal. Her arms had fallen lengthwise before her,
the fingers moving in slight convulsions; her head dropped upon her
bosom, and her whole person seemed suspended against the tree, looking
like some beautiful emblem of the wounded delicacy of her sex, devoid of
animation, and yet keenly conscious. In a few moments, however, her head
began to move slowly, in a sign of deep, unconquerable disapprobation.

"No, no, no; better that we die as we have lived, together!"

"Then die!" shouted Magua, hurling his tomahawk with violence at the
unresisting speaker, and gnashing his teeth with a rage that could no
longer be bridled, at this sudden exhibition of firmness in the one he
believed the weakest of the party. The axe cleaved the air in front of
Heyward, and cutting some of the flowing ringlets of Alice, quivered in
the tree above her head. The sight maddened Duncan to desperation.
Collecting all his energies in one effort, he snapped the twigs which
bound him and rushed upon another savage who was preparing with loud
yells, and a more deliberate aim, to repeat the blow. They encountered,
grappled, and fell to the earth together. The naked body of his
antagonist afforded Heyward no means of holding his adversary, who
glided from his grasp, and rose again with one knee on his chest,
pressing him down with the weight of a giant. Duncan already saw the
knife gleaming in the air, when a whistling sound swept past him, and
was rather accompanied, than followed, by the sharp crack of a rifle. He
felt his breast relieved from the load it had endured; he saw the savage
expression of his adversary's countenance change to a look of vacant
wildness, when the Indian fell dead on the faded leaves by his side.

 Though at first menaced by the Hurons, Heyward is held for questioning, but he has to turn for interpretation to Magua, whom he sees Hawkeye had wounded on the shoulder. When he finally convinces them that the three woodsmen have escaped, they are furious, and one savage grabs Alice by the hair in a mock scalping. Before real violence can occur, the chief calls a brief council and the entire party crosses to the south bank of the river where the horses are. Mounted on Heyward's charger, the chief leads most of his people away across river, leaving the prisoners in charge of six Indians headed by Magua. The major tries to secure Magua's help by privately implying that he and the redskin have been in collusion to fool the Hurons all along and by offering rewards. Although Heyward adopts the sententious speech of the Indians, Magua is noncommittal as the group heads south, the sisters mounted and the others afoot. Flanked by the Indians, Cora finds it difficult to leave signs on the trail; once when she drops a glove, she is detected and severely warned by one of their conductors. Never speaking, Magua steadily leads the way through the forests and hills until they finally reach a steep, pyramidal hill with a level summit and few trees -- a perfect place for defense and for avoiding surprise. While the warriors eat the raw meat of a fawn, Heyward again engages Magua in talk. Heyward's expression of Munro's love for his daughters brings a gleam of malignant joy to the Indian's face, and the latter insists upon a private talk with Cora. He proudly tells her that he was born a chief but that, after the Canadians taught him to drink firewater, he was driven from his tribe. Once when working for Munro, he came into Munro's cabin drunk and the latter had him tied up and whipped like a dog before the soldiers. He demands, is it "justice to make evil, and then punish for it?" Wanting injury for injury, he says he will let Alice go if Cora will come with him as his wife: "The body of the gray-head would sleep among his cannon, but his heart would lie within reach of the knife of Le Subtil." Cora is indignant and returns to her fellow captives. Magua goes to the lolling savages and begins a skillful harangue, building their emotions to the point of rage and vengeance. As they rush upon their prisoners with drawn knives and uplifted tomahawks, Magua villainously invites them to prolong the victims' misery. Heyward and Gamut struggle to no avail, and all four are tied to saplings while splinters and fire are prepared for the torture. Magua again makes his proposal, and Cora leaves the decision to Alice, who hesitates in her weakness but finally says no. Gnashing his teeth, the Huron hurls his tomahawk just above Alice's head, cutting some of her ringlets. Maddened, Heyward snaps his bonds and rushes upon another Indian who is about to throw his weapon. In the struggle, Heyward goes down and the Indian raises his knife fatally. But the crack of a rifle is heard, and the Indian's look changes to vacant wildness as he falls dead on the faded leaves beside Heyward.

