CHAPTER XIII.

“I’ll seek a readier path.”

—Parnell

The route taken by Hawkeye lay across those sandy plains, relived by occasional

valleys and swells of land, which had been traversed by their party on the

morning of the same day, with the baffled Magua for their guide. The sun had

now fallen low toward the distant mountains; and as their journey lay through

the interminable forest, the heat was no longer oppressive. Their progress, in

consequence, was proportionate; and long before the twilight gathered about

them, they had made good many toilsome miles on their return.

The hunter, like the savage whose place he filled, seemed to select among the

blind signs of their wild route, with a species of instinct, seldom abating his

speed, and never pausing to deliberate. A rapid and oblique glance at the moss

on the trees, with an occasional upward gaze toward the setting sun, or a

steady but passing look at the direction of the numerous water courses, through

which he waded, were sufficient to determine his path, and remove his greatest

difficulties. In the meantime, the forest began to change its hues, losing that

lively green which had embellished its arches, in the graver light which is the

usual precursor of the close of day.

While the eyes of the sisters were endeavoring to catch glimpses through the

trees, of the flood of golden glory which formed a glittering halo around the

sun, tinging here and there with ruby streaks, or bordering with narrow edgings

of shining yellow, a mass of clouds that lay piled at no great distance above

the western hills, Hawkeye turned suddenly and pointing upward toward the

gorgeous heavens, he spoke:

“Yonder is the signal given to man to seek his food and natural

rest,” he said; “better and wiser would it be, if he could

understand the signs of nature, and take a lesson from the fowls of the air and

the beasts of the field! Our night, however, will soon be over, for with the

moon we must be up and moving again. I remember to have fou’t the Maquas,

hereaways, in the first war in which I ever drew blood from man; and we threw

up a work of blocks, to keep the ravenous varmints from handling our scalps. If

my marks do not fail me, we shall find the place a few rods further to our

left.”

Without waiting for an assent, or, indeed, for any reply, the sturdy hunter

moved boldly into a dense thicket of young chestnuts, shoving aside the

branches of the exuberant shoots which nearly covered the ground, like a man

who expected, at each step, to discover some object he had formerly known. The

recollection of the scout did not deceive him. After penetrating through the

brush, matted as it was with briars, for a few hundred feet, he entered an open

space, that surrounded a low, green hillock, which was crowned by the decayed

blockhouse in question. This rude and neglected building was one of those

deserted works, which, having been thrown up on an emergency, had been

abandoned with the disappearance of danger, and was now quietly crumbling in

the solitude of the forest, neglected and nearly forgotten, like the

circumstances which had caused it to be reared. Such memorials of the passage

and struggles of man are yet frequent throughout the broad barrier of

wilderness which once separated the hostile provinces, and form a species of

ruins that are intimately associated with the recollections of colonial

history, and which are in appropriate keeping with the gloomy character of the

surrounding scenery. The roof of bark had long since fallen, and mingled with

the soil, but the huge logs of pine, which had been hastily thrown together,

still preserved their relative positions, though one angle of the work had

given way under the pressure, and threatened a speedy downfall to the remainder

of the rustic edifice. While Heyward and his companions hesitated to approach a

building so decayed, Hawkeye and the Indians entered within the low walls, not

only without fear, but with obvious interest. While the former surveyed the

ruins, both internally and externally, with the curiosity of one whose

recollections were reviving at each moment, Chingachgook related to his son, in

the language of the Delawares, and with the pride of a conqueror, the brief

history of the skirmish which had been fought, in his youth, in that secluded

spot. A strain of melancholy, however, blended with his triumph, rendering his

voice, as usual, soft and musical.

In the meantime, the sisters gladly dismounted, and prepared to enjoy their

halt in the coolness of the evening, and in a security which they believed

nothing but the beasts of the forest could invade.

“Would not our resting-place have been more retired, my worthy

friend,” demanded the more vigilant Duncan, perceiving that the scout had

already finished his short survey, “had we chosen a spot less known, and

one more rarely visited than this?”

“Few live who know the blockhouse was ever raised,” was the slow

and musing answer; “’tis not often that books are made, and

narratives written of such a scrimmage as was here fou’t atween the

Mohicans and the Mohawks, in a war of their own waging. I was then a younker,

and went out with the Delawares, because I know’d they were a scandalized

and wronged race. Forty days and forty nights did the imps crave our blood

around this pile of logs, which I designed and partly reared, being, as

you’ll remember, no Indian myself, but a man without a cross. The

Delawares lent themselves to the work, and we made it good, ten to twenty,

until our numbers were nearly equal, and then we sallied out upon the hounds,

and not a man of them ever got back to tell the fate of his party. Yes, yes; I

was then young, and new to the sight of blood; and not relishing the thought

that creatures who had spirits like myself should lay on the naked ground, to

be torn asunder by beasts, or to bleach in the rains, I buried the dead with my

own hands, under that very little hillock where you have placed yourselves; and

no bad seat does it make neither, though it be raised by the bones of mortal

men.”

Heyward and the sisters arose, on the instant, from the grassy sepulcher; nor

could the two latter, notwithstanding the terrific scenes they had so recently

passed through, entirely suppress an emotion of natural horror, when they found

themselves in such familiar contact with the grave of the dead Mohawks. The

gray light, the gloomy little area of dark grass, surrounded by its border of

brush, beyond which the pines rose, in breathing silence, apparently into the

very clouds, and the deathlike stillness of the vast forest, were all in unison

to deepen such a sensation. “They are gone, and they are harmless,”

continued Hawkeye, waving his hand, with a melancholy smile at their manifest

alarm; “they’ll never shout the war-whoop nor strike a blow with

the tomahawk again! And of all those who aided in placing them where they lie,

Chingachgook and I only are living! The brothers and family of the Mohican

formed our war party; and you see before you all that are now left of his

race.”

The eyes of the listeners involuntarily sought the forms of the Indians, with a

compassionate interest in their desolate fortune. Their dark persons were still

to be seen within the shadows of the blockhouse, the son listening to the

relation of his father with that sort of intenseness which would be created by

a narrative that redounded so much to the honor of those whose names he had

long revered for their courage and savage virtues.

“I had thought the Delawares a pacific people,” said Duncan,

“and that they never waged war in person; trusting the defense of their

hands to those very Mohawks that you slew!”

“’Tis true in part,” returned the scout, “and yet, at

the bottom, ’tis a wicked lie. Such a treaty was made in ages gone by,

through the deviltries of the Dutchers, who wished to disarm the natives that

had the best right to the country, where they had settled themselves. The

Mohicans, though a part of the same nation, having to deal with the English,

never entered into the silly bargain, but kept to their manhood; as in truth

did the Delawares, when their eyes were open to their folly. You see before you

a chief of the great Mohican Sagamores! Once his family could chase their deer

over tracts of country wider than that which belongs to the Albany Patteroon,

without crossing brook or hill that was not their own; but what is left of

their descendant? He may find his six feet of earth when God chooses, and keep

it in peace, perhaps, if he has a friend who will take the pains to sink his

head so low that the plowshares cannot reach it!”

“Enough!” said Heyward, apprehensive that the subject might lead to

a discussion that would interrupt the harmony so necessary to the preservation

of his fair companions; “we have journeyed far, and few among us are

blessed with forms like that of yours, which seems to know neither fatigue nor

weakness.”

“The sinews and bones of a man carry me through it all,” said the

hunter, surveying his muscular limbs with a simplicity that betrayed the honest

pleasure the compliment afforded him; “there are larger and heavier men

to be found in the settlements, but you might travel many days in a city before

you could meet one able to walk fifty miles without stopping to take breath, or

who has kept the hounds within hearing during a chase of hours. However, as

flesh and blood are not always the same, it is quite reasonable to suppose that

the gentle ones are willing to rest, after all they have seen and done this

day. Uncas, clear out the spring, while your father and I make a cover for

their tender heads of these chestnut shoots, and a bed of grass and

leaves.”

The dialogue ceased, while the hunter and his companions busied themselves in

preparations for the comfort and protection of those they guided. A spring,

which many long years before had induced the natives to select the place for

their temporary fortification, was soon cleared of leaves, and a fountain of

crystal gushed from the bed, diffusing its waters over the verdant hillock. A

corner of the building was then roofed in such a manner as to exclude the heavy

dew of the climate, and piles of sweet shrubs and dried leaves were laid

beneath it for the sisters to repose on.

While the diligent woodsmen were employed in this manner, Cora and Alice

partook of that refreshment which duty required much more than inclination

prompted them to accept. They then retired within the walls, and first offering

up their thanksgivings for past mercies, and petitioning for a continuance of

the Divine favor throughout the coming night, they laid their tender forms on

the fragrant couch, and in spite of recollections and forebodings, soon sank

into those slumbers which nature so imperiously demanded, and which were

sweetened by hopes for the morrow. Duncan had prepared himself to pass the

night in watchfulness near them, just without the ruin, but the scout,

perceiving his intention, pointed toward Chingachgook, as he coolly disposed

his own person on the grass, and said:

“The eyes of a white man are too heavy and too blind for such a watch as

this! The Mohican will be our sentinel, therefore let us sleep.”

“I proved myself a sluggard on my post during the past night,” said

Heyward, “and have less need of repose than you, who did more credit to

the character of a soldier. Let all the party seek their rest, then, while I

hold the guard.”

“If we lay among the white tents of the Sixtieth, and in front of an

enemy like the French, I could not ask for a better watchman,” returned

the scout; “but in the darkness and among the signs of the wilderness

your judgment would be like the folly of a child, and your vigilance thrown

away. Do then, like Uncas and myself, sleep, and sleep in safety.”

Heyward perceived, in truth, that the younger Indian had thrown his form on the

side of the hillock while they were talking, like one who sought to make the

most of the time allotted to rest, and that his example had been followed by

David, whose voice literally “clove to his jaws,” with the fever of

his wound, heightened, as it was, by their toilsome march. Unwilling to prolong

a useless discussion, the young man affected to comply, by posting his back

against the logs of the blockhouse, in a half recumbent posture, though

resolutely determined, in his own mind, not to close an eye until he had

delivered his precious charge into the arms of Munro himself. Hawkeye,

believing he had prevailed, soon fell asleep, and a silence as deep as the

solitude in which they had found it, pervaded the retired spot.

For many minutes Duncan succeeded in keeping his senses on the alert, and alive

to every moaning sound that arose from the forest. His vision became more acute

as the shades of evening settled on the place; and even after the stars were

glimmering above his head, he was able to distinguish the recumbent forms of

his companions, as they lay stretched on the grass, and to note the person of

Chingachgook, who sat upright and motionless as one of the trees which formed

the dark barrier on every side. He still heard the gentle breathings of the

sisters, who lay within a few feet of him, and not a leaf was ruffled by the

passing air of which his ear did not detect the whispering sound. At length,

however, the mournful notes of a whip-poor-will became blended with the

moanings of an owl; his heavy eyes occasionally sought the bright rays of the

stars, and he then fancied he saw them through the fallen lids. At instants of

momentary wakefulness he mistook a bush for his associate sentinel; his head

next sank upon his shoulder, which, in its turn, sought the support of the

ground; and, finally, his whole person became relaxed and pliant, and the young

man sank into a deep sleep, dreaming that he was a knight of ancient chivalry,

holding his midnight vigils before the tent of a recaptured princess, whose

favor he did not despair of gaining, by such a proof of devotion and

watchfulness.

How long the tired Duncan lay in this insensible state he never knew himself,

but his slumbering visions had been long lost in total forgetfulness, when he

was awakened by a light tap on the shoulder. Aroused by this signal, slight as

it was, he sprang upon his feet with a confused recollection of the

self-imposed duty he had assumed with the commencement of the night.

“Who comes?” he demanded, feeling for his sword, at the place where

it was usually suspended. “Speak! friend or enemy?”

“Friend,” replied the low voice of Chingachgook; who, pointing

upward at the luminary which was shedding its mild light through the opening in

the trees, directly in their bivouac, immediately added, in his rude English:

“Moon comes and white man’s fort far—far off; time to move,

when sleep shuts both eyes of the Frenchman!”

“You say true! Call up your friends, and bridle the horses while I

prepare my own companions for the march!”

“We are awake, Duncan,” said the soft, silvery tones of Alice

within the building, “and ready to travel very fast after so refreshing a

sleep; but you have watched through the tedious night in our behalf, after

having endured so much fatigue the livelong day!”

“Say, rather, I would have watched, but my treacherous eyes betrayed me;

twice have I proved myself unfit for the trust I bear.”

“Nay, Duncan, deny it not,” interrupted the smiling Alice, issuing

from the shadows of the building into the light of the moon, in all the

loveliness of her freshened beauty; “I know you to be a heedless one,

when self is the object of your care, and but too vigilant in favor of others.

Can we not tarry here a little longer while you find the rest you need?

Cheerfully, most cheerfully, will Cora and I keep the vigils, while you and all

these brave men endeavor to snatch a little sleep!”

“If shame could cure me of my drowsiness, I should never close an eye

again,” said the uneasy youth, gazing at the ingenuous countenance of

Alice, where, however, in its sweet solicitude, he read nothing to confirm his

half-awakened suspicion. “It is but too true, that after leading you into

danger by my heedlessness, I have not even the merit of guarding your pillows

as should become a soldier.”

“No one but Duncan himself should accuse Duncan of such a weakness. Go,

then, and sleep; believe me, neither of us, weak girls as we are, will betray

our watch.”

The young man was relieved from the awkwardness of making any further

protestations of his own demerits, by an exclamation from Chingachgook, and the

attitude of riveted attention assumed by his son.

“The Mohicans hear an enemy!” whispered Hawkeye, who, by this time,

in common with the whole party, was awake and stirring. “They scent

danger in the wind!”

“God forbid!” exclaimed Heyward. “Surely we have had enough

of bloodshed!”

While he spoke, however, the young soldier seized his rifle, and advancing

toward the front, prepared to atone for his venial remissness, by freely

exposing his life in defense of those he attended.

“’Tis some creature of the forest prowling around us in quest of

food,” he said, in a whisper, as soon as the low, and apparently distant

sounds, which had startled the Mohicans, reached his own ears.

“Hist!” returned the attentive scout; “’tis man; even I

can now tell his tread, poor as my senses are when compared to an

Indian’s! That Scampering Huron has fallen in with one of

Montcalm’s outlying parties, and they have struck upon our trail. I

shouldn’t like, myself, to spill more human blood in this spot,” he

added, looking around with anxiety in his features, at the dim objects by which

he was surrounded; “but what must be, must! Lead the horses into the

blockhouse, Uncas; and, friends, do you follow to the same shelter. Poor and

old as it is, it offers a cover, and has rung with the crack of a rifle afore

to-night!”

He was instantly obeyed, the Mohicans leading the Narrangansetts within the

ruin, whither the whole party repaired with the most guarded silence.

The sound of approaching footsteps were now too distinctly audible to leave any

doubts as to the nature of the interruption. They were soon mingled with voices

calling to each other in an Indian dialect, which the hunter, in a whisper,

affirmed to Heyward was the language of the Hurons. When the party reached the

point where the horses had entered the thicket which surrounded the blockhouse,

they were evidently at fault, having lost those marks which, until that moment,

had directed their pursuit.

It would seem by the voices that twenty men were soon collected at that one

spot, mingling their different opinions and advice in noisy clamor.

“The knaves know our weakness,” whispered Hawkeye, who stood by the

side of Heyward, in deep shade, looking through an opening in the logs,

“or they wouldn’t indulge their idleness in such a squaw’s

march. Listen to the reptiles! each man among them seems to have two tongues,

and but a single leg.”

Duncan, brave as he was in the combat, could not, in such a moment of painful

suspense, make any reply to the cool and characteristic remark of the scout. He

only grasped his rifle more firmly, and fastened his eyes upon the narrow

opening, through which he gazed upon the moonlight view with increasing

anxiety. The deeper tones of one who spoke as having authority were next heard,

amid a silence that denoted the respect with which his orders, or rather

advice, was received. After which, by the rustling of leaves, and crackling of

dried twigs, it was apparent the savages were separating in pursuit of the lost

trail. Fortunately for the pursued, the light of the moon, while it shed a

flood of mild luster upon the little area around the ruin, was not sufficiently

strong to penetrate the deep arches of the forest, where the objects still lay

in deceptive shadow. The search proved fruitless; for so short and sudden had

been the passage from the faint path the travelers had journeyed into the

thicket, that every trace of their footsteps was lost in the obscurity of the

woods.

It was not long, however, before the restless savages were heard beating the

brush, and gradually approaching the inner edge of that dense border of young

chestnuts which encircled the little area.

“They are coming,” muttered Heyward, endeavoring to thrust his

rifle through the chink in the logs; “let us fire on their

approach.”

“Keep everything in the shade,” returned the scout; “the

snapping of a flint, or even the smell of a single karnel of the brimstone,

would bring the hungry varlets upon us in a body. Should it please God that we

must give battle for the scalps, trust to the experience of men who know the

ways of the savages, and who are not often backward when the war-whoop is

howled.”

Duncan cast his eyes behind him, and saw that the trembling sisters were

cowering in the far corner of the building, while the Mohicans stood in the

shadow, like two upright posts, ready, and apparently willing, to strike when

the blow should be needed. Curbing his impatience, he again looked out upon the

area, and awaited the result in silence. At that instant the thicket opened,

and a tall and armed Huron advanced a few paces into the open space. As he

gazed upon the silent blockhouse, the moon fell upon his swarthy countenance,

and betrayed its surprise and curiosity. He made the exclamation which usually

accompanies the former emotion in an Indian, and, calling in a low voice, soon

drew a companion to his side.

These children of the woods stood together for several moments pointing at the

crumbling edifice, and conversing in the unintelligible language of their

tribe. They then approached, though with slow and cautious steps, pausing every

instant to look at the building, like startled deer whose curiosity struggled

powerfully with their awakened apprehensions for the mastery. The foot of one

of them suddenly rested on the mound, and he stopped to examine its nature. At

this moment, Heyward observed that the scout loosened his knife in its sheath,

and lowered the muzzle of his rifle. Imitating these movements, the young man

prepared himself for the struggle which now seemed inevitable.

The savages were so near, that the least motion in one of the horses, or even a

breath louder than common, would have betrayed the fugitives. But in

discovering the character of the mound, the attention of the Hurons appeared

directed to a different object. They spoke together, and the sounds of their

voices were low and solemn, as if influenced by a reverence that was deeply

blended with awe. Then they drew warily back, keeping their eyes riveted on the

ruin, as if they expected to see the apparitions of the dead issue from its

silent walls, until, having reached the boundary of the area, they moved slowly

into the thicket and disappeared.

Hawkeye dropped the breech of his rifle to the earth, and drawing a long, free

breath, exclaimed, in an audible whisper:

“Ay! they respect the dead, and it has this time saved their own lives,

and, it may be, the lives of better men too.”

Heyward lent his attention for a single moment to his companion, but without

replying, he again turned toward those who just then interested him more. He

heard the two Hurons leave the bushes, and it was soon plain that all the

pursuers were gathered about them, in deep attention to their report. After a

few minutes of earnest and solemn dialogue, altogether different from the noisy

clamor with which they had first collected about the spot, the sounds grew

fainter and more distant, and finally were lost in the depths of the forest.

Hawkeye waited until a signal from the listening Chingachgook assured him that

every sound from the retiring party was completely swallowed by the distance,

when he motioned to Heyward to lead forth the horses, and to assist the sisters

into their saddles. The instant this was done they issued through the broken

gateway, and stealing out by a direction opposite to the one by which they

entered, they quitted the spot, the sisters casting furtive glances at the

silent, grave and crumbling ruin, as they left the soft light of the moon, to

bury themselves in the gloom of the woods.