CHAPTER XIX.

“Salar.—Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his

flesh; what’s that good for?

Shy.—To bait fish withal; if it will feed nothing else, it will feed my

revenge.”

—Merchant of Venice

The shades of evening had come to increase the dreariness of the place, when

the party entered the ruins of William Henry. The scout and his companions

immediately made their preparations to pass the night there; but with an

earnestness and sobriety of demeanor that betrayed how much the unusual horrors

they had just witnessed worked on even their practised feelings. A few

fragments of rafters were reared against a blackened wall; and when Uncas had

covered them slightly with brush, the temporary accommodations were deemed

sufficient. The young Indian pointed toward his rude hut when his labor was

ended; and Heyward, who understood the meaning of the silent gestures, gently

urged Munro to enter. Leaving the bereaved old man alone with his sorrows,

Duncan immediately returned into the open air, too much excited himself to seek

the repose he had recommended to his veteran friend.

While Hawkeye and the Indians lighted their fire and took their evening’s

repast, a frugal meal of dried bear’s meat, the young man paid a visit to

that curtain of the dilapidated fort which looked out on the sheet of the

Horican. The wind had fallen, and the waves were already rolling on the sandy

beach beneath him, in a more regular and tempered succession. The clouds, as if

tired of their furious chase, were breaking asunder; the heavier volumes,

gathering in black masses about the horizon, while the lighter scud still

hurried above the water, or eddied among the tops of the mountains, like broken

flights of birds, hovering around their roosts. Here and there, a red and fiery

star struggled through the drifting vapor, furnishing a lurid gleam of

brightness to the dull aspect of the heavens. Within the bosom of the

encircling hills, an impenetrable darkness had already settled; and the plain

lay like a vast and deserted charnel-house, without omen or whisper to disturb

the slumbers of its numerous and hapless tenants.

Of this scene, so chillingly in accordance with the past, Duncan stood for many

minutes a rapt observer. His eyes wandered from the bosom of the mound, where

the foresters were seated around their glimmering fire, to the fainter light

which still lingered in the skies, and then rested long and anxiously on the

embodied gloom, which lay like a dreary void on that side of him where the dead

reposed. He soon fancied that inexplicable sounds arose from the place, though

so indistinct and stolen, as to render not only their nature but even their

existence uncertain. Ashamed of his apprehensions, the young man turned toward

the water, and strove to divert his attention to the mimic stars that dimly

glimmered on its moving surface. Still, his too-conscious ears performed their

ungrateful duty, as if to warn him of some lurking danger. At length, a swift

trampling seemed, quite audibly, to rush athwart the darkness. Unable any

longer to quiet his uneasiness, Duncan spoke in a low voice to the scout,

requesting him to ascend the mound to the place where he stood. Hawkeye threw

his rifle across an arm and complied, but with an air so unmoved and calm, as

to prove how much he counted on the security of their position.

“Listen!” said Duncan, when the other placed himself deliberately

at his elbow; “there are suppressed noises on the plain which may show

Montcalm has not yet entirely deserted his conquest.”

“Then ears are better than eyes,” said the undisturbed scout, who,

having just deposited a portion of a bear between his grinders, spoke thick and

slow, like one whose mouth was doubly occupied. “I myself saw him caged

in Ty, with all his host; for your Frenchers, when they have done a clever

thing, like to get back, and have a dance, or a merry-making, with the women

over their success.”

“I know not. An Indian seldom sleeps in war, and plunder may keep a Huron

here after his tribe has departed. It would be well to extinguish the fire, and

have a watch—listen! you hear the noise I mean!”

“An Indian more rarely lurks about the graves. Though ready to slay, and

not over regardful of the means, he is commonly content with the scalp, unless

when blood is hot, and temper up; but after spirit is once fairly gone, he

forgets his enmity, and is willing to let the dead find their natural rest.

Speaking of spirits, major, are you of opinion that the heaven of a red-skin

and of us whites will be of one and the same?”

“No doubt—no doubt. I thought I heard it again! or was it the

rustling of the leaves in the top of the beech?”

“For my own part,” continued Hawkeye, turning his face for a moment

in the direction indicated by Heyward, but with a vacant and careless manner,

“I believe that paradise is ordained for happiness; and that men will be

indulged in it according to their dispositions and gifts. I, therefore, judge

that a red-skin is not far from the truth when he believes he is to find them

glorious hunting grounds of which his traditions tell; nor, for that matter, do

I think it would be any disparagement to a man without a cross to pass his

time—”

“You hear it again?” interrupted Duncan.

“Ay, ay; when food is scarce, and when food is plenty, a wolf grows

bold,” said the unmoved scout. “There would be picking, too, among

the skins of the devils, if there was light and time for the sport. But,

concerning the life that is to come, major; I have heard preachers say, in the

settlements, that heaven was a place of rest. Now, men’s minds differ as

to their ideas of enjoyment. For myself, and I say it with reverence to the

ordering of Providence, it would be no great indulgence to be kept shut up in

those mansions of which they preach, having a natural longing for motion and

the chase.”

Duncan, who was now made to understand the nature of the noise he had heard,

answered, with more attention to the subject which the humor of the scout had

chosen for discussion, by saying:

“It is difficult to account for the feelings that may attend the last

great change.”

“It would be a change, indeed, for a man who has passed his days in the

open air,” returned the single-minded scout; “and who has so often

broken his fast on the head waters of the Hudson, to sleep within sound of the

roaring Mohawk. But it is a comfort to know we serve a merciful Master, though

we do it each after his fashion, and with great tracts of wilderness atween

us—what goes there?”

“Is it not the rushing of the wolves you have mentioned?”

Hawkeye slowly shook his head, and beckoned for Duncan to follow him to a spot

to which the glare from the fire did not extend. When he had taken this

precaution, the scout placed himself in an attitude of intense attention and

listened long and keenly for a repetition of the low sound that had so

unexpectedly startled him. His vigilance, however, seemed exercised in vain;

for after a fruitless pause, he whispered to Duncan:

“We must give a call to Uncas. The boy has Indian senses, and he may hear

what is hid from us; for, being a white-skin, I will not deny my nature.”

The young Mohican, who was conversing in a low voice with his father, started

as he heard the moaning of an owl, and, springing on his feet, he looked toward

the black mounds, as if seeking the place whence the sounds proceeded. The

scout repeated the call, and in a few moments, Duncan saw the figure of Uncas

stealing cautiously along the rampart, to the spot where they stood.

Hawkeye explained his wishes in a very few words, which were spoken in the

Delaware tongue. So soon as Uncas was in possession of the reason why he was

summoned, he threw himself flat on the turf; where, to the eyes of Duncan, he

appeared to lie quiet and motionless. Surprised at the immovable attitude of

the young warrior, and curious to observe the manner in which he employed his

faculties to obtain the desired information, Heyward advanced a few steps, and

bent over the dark object on which he had kept his eye riveted. Then it was he

discovered that the form of Uncas vanished, and that he beheld only the dark

outline of an inequality in the embankment.

“What has become of the Mohican?” he demanded of the scout,

stepping back in amazement; “it was here that I saw him fall, and could

have sworn that here he yet remained.”

“Hist! speak lower; for we know not what ears are open, and the Mingoes

are a quick-witted breed. As for Uncas, he is out on the plain, and the Maquas,

if any such are about us, will find their equal.”

“You think that Montcalm has not called off all his Indians? Let us give

the alarm to our companions, that we may stand to our arms. Here are five of

us, who are not unused to meet an enemy.”

“Not a word to either, as you value your life. Look at the Sagamore, how

like a grand Indian chief he sits by the fire. If there are any skulkers out in

the darkness, they will never discover, by his countenance, that we suspect

danger at hand.”

“But they may discover him, and it will prove his death. His person can

be too plainly seen by the light of that fire, and he will become the first and

most certain victim.”

“It is undeniable that now you speak the truth,” returned the

scout, betraying more anxiety than was usual; “yet what can be done? A

single suspicious look might bring on an attack before we are ready to receive

it. He knows, by the call I gave to Uncas, that we have struck a scent; I will

tell him that we are on the trail of the Mingoes; his Indian nature will teach

him how to act.”

The scout applied his fingers to his mouth, and raised a low hissing sound,

that caused Duncan at first to start aside, believing that he heard a serpent.

The head of Chingachgook was resting on a hand, as he sat musing by himself but

the moment he had heard the warning of the animal whose name he bore, he arose

to an upright position, and his dark eyes glanced swiftly and keenly on every

side of him. With his sudden and, perhaps, involuntary movement, every

appearance of surprise or alarm ended. His rifle lay untouched, and apparently

unnoticed, within reach of his hand. The tomahawk that he had loosened in his

belt for the sake of ease, was even suffered to fall from its usual situation

to the ground, and his form seemed to sink, like that of a man whose nerves and

sinews were suffered to relax for the purpose of rest. Cunningly resuming his

former position, though with a change of hands, as if the movement had been

made merely to relieve the limb, the native awaited the result with a calmness

and fortitude that none but an Indian warrior would have known how to exercise.

But Heyward saw that while to a less instructed eye the Mohican chief appeared

to slumber, his nostrils were expanded, his head was turned a little to one

side, as if to assist the organs of hearing, and that his quick and rapid

glances ran incessantly over every object within the power of his vision.

“See the noble fellow!” whispered Hawkeye, pressing the arm of

Heyward; “he knows that a look or a motion might disconsart our schemes,

and put us at the mercy of them imps—”

He was interrupted by the flash and report of a rifle. The air was filled with

sparks of fire, around that spot where the eyes of Heyward were still fastened,

with admiration and wonder. A second look told him that Chingachgook had

disappeared in the confusion. In the meantime, the scout had thrown forward his

rifle, like one prepared for service, and awaited impatiently the moment when

an enemy might rise to view. But with the solitary and fruitless attempt made

on the life of Chingachgook, the attack appeared to have terminated. Once or

twice the listeners thought they could distinguish the distant rustling of

bushes, as bodies of some unknown description rushed through them; nor was it

long before Hawkeye pointed out the “scampering of the wolves,” as

they fled precipitately before the passage of some intruder on their proper

domains. After an impatient and breathless pause, a plunge was heard in the

water, and it was immediately followed by the report of another rifle.

“There goes Uncas!” said the scout; “the boy bears a smart

piece! I know its crack, as well as a father knows the language of his child,

for I carried the gun myself until a better offered.”

“What can this mean?” demanded Duncan, “we are watched, and,

as it would seem, marked for destruction.”

“Yonder scattered brand can witness that no good was intended, and this

Indian will testify that no harm has been done,” returned the scout,

dropping his rifle across his arm again, and following Chingachgook, who just

then reappeared within the circle of light, into the bosom of the work.

“How is it, Sagamore? Are the Mingoes upon us in earnest, or is it only

one of those reptiles who hang upon the skirts of a war-party, to scalp the

dead, go in, and make their boast among the squaws of the valiant deeds done on

the pale faces?”

Chingachgook very quietly resumed his seat; nor did he make any reply, until

after he had examined the firebrand which had been struck by the bullet that

had nearly proved fatal to himself. After which he was content to reply,

holding a single finger up to view, with the English monosyllable:

“One.”

“I thought as much,” returned Hawkeye, seating himself; “and

as he had got the cover of the lake afore Uncas pulled upon him, it is more

than probable the knave will sing his lies about some great ambushment, in

which he was outlying on the trail of two Mohicans and a white hunter—for

the officers can be considered as little better than idlers in such a

scrimmage. Well, let him—let him. There are always some honest men in

every nation, though heaven knows, too, that they are scarce among the Maquas,

to look down an upstart when he brags ag’in the face of reason. The

varlet sent his lead within whistle of your ears, Sagamore.”

Chingachgook turned a calm and incurious eye toward the place where the ball

had struck, and then resumed his former attitude, with a composure that could

not be disturbed by so trifling an incident. Just then Uncas glided into the

circle, and seated himself at the fire, with the same appearance of

indifference as was maintained by his father.

Of these several moments Heyward was a deeply interested and wondering

observer. It appeared to him as though the foresters had some secret means of

intelligence, which had escaped the vigilance of his own faculties. In place of

that eager and garrulous narration with which a white youth would have

endeavored to communicate, and perhaps exaggerate, that which had passed out in

the darkness of the plain, the young warrior was seemingly content to let his

deeds speak for themselves. It was, in fact, neither the moment nor the

occasion for an Indian to boast of his exploits; and it is probably that, had

Heyward neglected to inquire, not another syllable would, just then, have been

uttered on the subject.

“What has become of our enemy, Uncas?” demanded Duncan; “we

heard your rifle, and hoped you had not fired in vain.”

The young chief removed a fold of his hunting skirt, and quietly exposed the

fatal tuft of hair, which he bore as the symbol of victory. Chingachgook laid

his hand on the scalp, and considered it for a moment with deep attention. Then

dropping it, with disgust depicted in his strong features, he ejaculated:

“Oneida!”

“Oneida!” repeated the scout, who was fast losing his interest in

the scene, in an apathy nearly assimilated to that of his red associates, but

who now advanced in uncommon earnestness to regard the bloody badge. “By

the Lord, if the Oneidas are outlying upon the trail, we shall by flanked by

devils on every side of us! Now, to white eyes there is no difference between

this bit of skin and that of any other Indian, and yet the Sagamore declares it

came from the poll of a Mingo; nay, he even names the tribe of the poor devil,

with as much ease as if the scalp was the leaf of a book, and each hair a

letter. What right have Christian whites to boast of their learning, when a

savage can read a language that would prove too much for the wisest of them

all! What say you, lad, of what people was the knave?”

Uncas raised his eyes to the face of the scout, and answered, in his soft

voice:

“Oneida.”

“Oneida, again! when one Indian makes a declaration it is commonly true;

but when he is supported by his people, set it down as gospel!”

“The poor fellow has mistaken us for French,” said Heyward;

“or he would not have attempted the life of a friend.”

“He mistake a Mohican in his paint for a Huron! You would be as likely to

mistake the white-coated grenadiers of Montcalm for the scarlet jackets of the

Royal Americans,” returned the scout. “No, no, the sarpent knew his

errand; nor was there any great mistake in the matter, for there is but little

love atween a Delaware and a Mingo, let their tribes go out to fight for whom

they may, in a white quarrel. For that matter, though the Oneidas do serve his

sacred majesty, who is my sovereign lord and master, I should not have

deliberated long about letting off ‘killdeer’ at the imp myself,

had luck thrown him in my way.”

“That would have been an abuse of our treaties, and unworthy of your

character.”

“When a man consort much with a people,” continued Hawkeye,

“if they were honest and he no knave, love will grow up atwixt them. It

is true that white cunning has managed to throw the tribes into great

confusion, as respects friends and enemies; so that the Hurons and the Oneidas,

who speak the same tongue, or what may be called the same, take each

other’s scalps, and the Delawares are divided among themselves; a few

hanging about their great council-fire on their own river, and fighting on the

same side with the Mingoes while the greater part are in the Canadas, out of

natural enmity to the Maquas—thus throwing everything into disorder, and

destroying all the harmony of warfare. Yet a red natur’ is not likely to

alter with every shift of policy; so that the love atwixt a Mohican and a Mingo

is much like the regard between a white man and a sarpent.”

“I regret to hear it; for I had believed those natives who dwelt within

our boundaries had found us too just and liberal, not to identify themselves

fully with our quarrels.”

“Why, I believe it is natur’ to give a preference to one’s

own quarrels before those of strangers. Now, for myself, I do love justice;

and, therefore, I will not say I hate a Mingo, for that may be unsuitable to my

color and my religion, though I will just repeat, it may have been owing to the

night that ‘killdeer’ had no hand in the death of this skulking

Oneida.”

Then, as if satisfied with the force of his own reasons, whatever might be

their effect on the opinions of the other disputant, the honest but implacable

woodsman turned from the fire, content to let the controversy slumber. Heyward

withdrew to the rampart, too uneasy and too little accustomed to the warfare of

the woods to remain at ease under the possibility of such insidious attacks.

Not so, however, with the scout and the Mohicans. Those acute and

long-practised senses, whose powers so often exceed the limits of all ordinary

credulity, after having detected the danger, had enabled them to ascertain its

magnitude and duration. Not one of the three appeared in the least to doubt

their perfect security, as was indicated by the preparations that were soon

made to sit in council over their future proceedings.

The confusion of nations, and even of tribes, to which Hawkeye alluded, existed

at that period in the fullest force. The great tie of language, and, of course,

of a common origin, was severed in many places; and it was one of its

consequences, that the Delaware and the Mingo (as the people of the Six Nations

were called) were found fighting in the same ranks, while the latter sought the

scalp of the Huron, though believed to be the root of his own stock. The

Delawares were even divided among themselves. Though love for the soil which

had belonged to his ancestors kept the Sagamore of the Mohicans with a small

band of followers who were serving at Edward, under the banners of the English

king, by far the largest portion of his nation were known to be in the field as

allies of Montcalm. The reader probably knows, if enough has not already been

gleaned form this narrative, that the Delaware, or Lenape, claimed to be the

progenitors of that numerous people, who once were masters of most of the

eastern and northern states of America, of whom the community of the Mohicans

was an ancient and highly honored member.

It was, of course, with a perfect understanding of the minute and intricate

interests which had armed friend against friend, and brought natural enemies to

combat by each other’s side, that the scout and his companions now

disposed themselves to deliberate on the measures that were to govern their

future movements, amid so many jarring and savage races of men. Duncan knew

enough of Indian customs to understand the reason that the fire was

replenished, and why the warriors, not excepting Hawkeye, took their seats

within the curl of its smoke with so much gravity and decorum. Placing himself

at an angle of the works, where he might be a spectator of the scene without,

he awaited the result with as much patience as he could summon.

After a short and impressive pause, Chingachgook lighted a pipe whose bowl was

curiously carved in one of the soft stones of the country, and whose stem was a

tube of wood, and commenced smoking. When he had inhaled enough of the

fragrance of the soothing weed, he passed the instrument into the hands of the

scout. In this manner the pipe had made its rounds three several times, amid

the most profound silence, before either of the party opened his lips. Then the

Sagamore, as the oldest and highest in rank, in a few calm and dignified words,

proposed the subject for deliberation. He was answered by the scout; and

Chingachgook rejoined, when the other objected to his opinions. But the

youthful Uncas continued a silent and respectful listener, until Hawkeye, in

complaisance, demanded his opinion. Heyward gathered from the manners of the

different speakers, that the father and son espoused one side of a disputed

question, while the white man maintained the other. The contest gradually grew

warmer, until it was quite evident the feelings of the speakers began to be

somewhat enlisted in the debate.

Notwithstanding the increasing warmth of the amicable contest, the most

decorous Christian assembly, not even excepting those in which its reverend

ministers are collected, might have learned a wholesome lesson of moderation

from the forbearance and courtesy of the disputants. The words of Uncas were

received with the same deep attention as those which fell from the maturer

wisdom of his father; and so far from manifesting any impatience, neither spoke

in reply, until a few moments of silent meditation were, seemingly, bestowed in

deliberating on what had already been said.

The language of the Mohicans was accompanied by gestures so direct and natural

that Heyward had but little difficulty in following the thread of their

argument. On the other hand, the scout was obscure; because from the lingering

pride of color, he rather affected the cold and artificial manner which

characterizes all classes of Anglo-Americans when unexcited. By the frequency

with which the Indians described the marks of a forest trial, it was evident

they urged a pursuit by land, while the repeated sweep of Hawkeye’s arm

toward the Horican denoted that he was for a passage across its waters.

The latter was to every appearance fast losing ground, and the point was about

to be decided against him, when he arose to his feet, and shaking off his

apathy, he suddenly assumed the manner of an Indian, and adopted all the arts

of native eloquence. Elevating an arm, he pointed out the track of the sun,

repeating the gesture for every day that was necessary to accomplish their

objects. Then he delineated a long and painful path, amid rocks and

water-courses. The age and weakness of the slumbering and unconscious Munro

were indicated by signs too palpable to be mistaken. Duncan perceived that even

his own powers were spoken lightly of, as the scout extended his palm, and

mentioned him by the appellation of the “Open Hand”—a name

his liberality had purchased of all the friendly tribes. Then came a

representation of the light and graceful movements of a canoe, set in forcible

contrast to the tottering steps of one enfeebled and tired. He concluded by

pointing to the scalp of the Oneida, and apparently urging the necessity of

their departing speedily, and in a manner that should leave no trail.

[Illustration]

The Mohicans listened gravely, and with countenances that

reflected the

sentiments of the speaker.

The Mohicans listened gravely, and with countenances that reflected the

sentiments of the speaker. Conviction gradually wrought its influence, and

toward the close of Hawkeye’s speech, his sentences were accompanied by

the customary exclamation of commendation. In short, Uncas and his father

became converts to his way of thinking, abandoning their own previously

expressed opinions with a liberality and candor that, had they been the

representatives of some great and civilized people, would have infallibly

worked their political ruin, by destroying forever their reputation for

consistency.

The instant the matter in discussion was decided, the debate, and everything

connected with it, except the result appeared to be forgotten. Hawkeye, without

looking round to read his triumph in applauding eyes, very composedly stretched

his tall frame before the dying embers, and closed his own organs in sleep.

Left now in a measure to themselves, the Mohicans, whose time had been so much

devoted to the interests of others, seized the moment to devote some attention

to themselves. Casting off at once the grave and austere demeanor of an Indian

chief, Chingachgook commenced speaking to his son in the soft and playful tones

of affection. Uncas gladly met the familiar air of his father; and before the

hard breathing of the scout announced that he slept, a complete change was

effected in the manner of his two associates.

It is impossible to describe the music of their language, while thus engaged in

laughter and endearments, in such a way as to render it intelligible to those

whose ears have never listened to its melody. The compass of their voices,

particularly that of the youth, was wonderful—extending from the deepest

bass to tones that were even feminine in softness. The eyes of the father

followed the plastic and ingenious movements of the son with open delight, and

he never failed to smile in reply to the other’s contagious but low

laughter. While under the influence of these gentle and natural feelings, no

trace of ferocity was to be seen in the softened features of the Sagamore. His

figured panoply of death looked more like a disguise assumed in mockery than a

fierce annunciation of a desire to carry destruction in his footsteps.

After an hour had passed in the indulgence of their better feelings,

Chingachgook abruptly announced his desire to sleep, by wrapping his head in

his blanket and stretching his form on the naked earth. The merriment of Uncas

instantly ceased; and carefully raking the coals in such a manner that they

should impart their warmth to his father’s feet, the youth sought his own

pillow among the ruins of the place.

Imbibing renewed confidence from the security of these experienced foresters,

Heyward soon imitated their example; and long before the night had turned, they

who lay in the bosom of the ruined work, seemed to slumber as heavily as the

unconscious multitude whose bones were already beginning to bleach on the

surrounding plain.