CHAPTER XXV.

“Snug.—Have you the lion’s part written? Pray you, if it be,

give it to me, for I am slow of study.

Quince.—You may do it extempore, for it is nothing but

roaring.”

—Midsummer Night’s Dream.

There was a strange blending of the ridiculous with that which was solemn in

this scene. The beast still continued its rolling, and apparently untiring

movements, though its ludicrous attempt to imitate the melody of David ceased

the instant the latter abandoned the field. The words of Gamut were, as has

been seen, in his native tongue; and to Duncan they seem pregnant with some

hidden meaning, though nothing present assisted him in discovering the object

of their allusion. A speedy end was, however, put to every conjecture on the

subject, by the manner of the chief, who advanced to the bedside of the

invalid, and beckoned away the whole group of female attendants that had

clustered there to witness the skill of the stranger. He was implicitly, though

reluctantly, obeyed; and when the low echo which rang along the hollow, natural

gallery, from the distant closing door, had ceased, pointing toward his

insensible daughter, he said:

“Now let my brother show his power.”

Thus unequivocally called on to exercise the functions of his assumed

character, Heyward was apprehensive that the smallest delay might prove

dangerous. Endeavoring, then, to collect his ideas, he prepared to perform that

species of incantation, and those uncouth rites, under which the Indian

conjurers are accustomed to conceal their ignorance and impotency. It is more

than probable that, in the disordered state of his thoughts, he would soon have

fallen into some suspicious, if not fatal, error had not his incipient attempts

been interrupted by a fierce growl from the quadruped. Three several times did

he renew his efforts to proceed, and as often was he met by the same

unaccountable opposition, each interruption seeming more savage and threatening

than the preceding.

“The cunning ones are jealous,” said the Huron; “I go.

Brother, the woman is the wife of one of my bravest young men; deal justly by

her. Peace!” he added, beckoning to the discontented beast to be quiet;

“I go.”

The chief was as good as his word, and Duncan now found himself alone in that

wild and desolate abode with the helpless invalid and the fierce and dangerous

brute. The latter listened to the movements of the Indian with that air of

sagacity that a bear is known to possess, until another echo announced that he

had also left the cavern, when it turned and came waddling up to Duncan before

whom it seated itself in its natural attitude, erect like a man. The youth

looked anxiously about him for some weapon, with which he might make a

resistance against the attack he now seriously expected.

It seemed, however, as if the humor of the animal had suddenly changed. Instead

of continuing its discontented growls, or manifesting any further signs of

anger, the whole of its shaggy body shook violently, as if agitated by some

strange internal convulsion. The huge and unwieldy talons pawed stupidly about

the grinning muzzle, and while Heyward kept his eyes riveted on its movements

with jealous watchfulness, the grim head fell on one side and in its place

appeared the honest sturdy countenance of the scout, who was indulging from the

bottom of his soul in his own peculiar expression of merriment.

[Illustration]

“Hist!” said the wary woodsman, interrupting Heyward’s

exclamation of surprise; “the varlets are about the place, and any sounds

that are not natural to witchcraft would bring them back upon us in a

body.”

“Tell me the meaning of this masquerade; and why you have attempted so

desperate an adventure?”

“Ah, reason and calculation are often outdone by accident,”

returned the scout. “But, as a story should always commence at the

beginning, I will tell you the whole in order. After we parted I placed the

commandant and the Sagamore in an old beaver lodge, where they are safer from

the Hurons than they would be in the garrison of Edward; for your high

north-west Indians, not having as yet got the traders among them, continued to

venerate the beaver. After which Uncas and I pushed for the other encampment as

was agreed. Have you seen the lad?”

“To my great grief! He is captive, and condemned to die at the rising of

the sun.”

“I had misgivings that such would be his fate,” resumed the scout,

in a less confident and joyous tone. But soon regaining his naturally firm

voice, he continued: “His bad fortune is the true reason of my being

here, for it would never do to abandon such a boy to the Hurons. A rare time

the knaves would have of it, could they tie ‘The Bounding Elk’ and

‘The Long Carabine’, as they call me, to the same stake! Though why

they have given me such a name I never knew, there being as little likeness

between the gifts of ‘killdeer’ and the performance of one of your

real Canada carabynes, as there is between the natur’ of a pipe-stone and

a flint.”

“Keep to your tale,” said the impatient Heyward; “we know not

at what moment the Hurons may return.”

“No fear of them. A conjurer must have his time, like a straggling priest

in the settlements. We are as safe from interruption as a missionary would be

at the beginning of a two hours’ discourse. Well, Uncas and I fell in

with a return party of the varlets; the lad was much too forward for a scout;

nay, for that matter, being of hot blood, he was not so much to blame; and,

after all, one of the Hurons proved a coward, and in fleeing led him into an

ambushment.”

“And dearly has he paid for the weakness.”

The scout significantly passed his hand across his own throat, and nodded, as

if he said, “I comprehend your meaning.” After which he continued,

in a more audible though scarcely more intelligible language:

“After the loss of the boy I turned upon the Hurons, as you may judge.

There have been scrimmages atween one or two of their outlyers and myself; but

that is neither here nor there. So, after I had shot the imps, I got in pretty

nigh to the lodges without further commotion. Then what should luck do in my

favor but lead me to the very spot where one of the most famous conjurers of

the tribe was dressing himself, as I well knew, for some great battle with

Satan—though why should I call that luck, which it now seems was an

especial ordering of Providence. So a judgmatical rap over the head stiffened

the lying impostor for a time, and leaving him a bit of walnut for his supper,

to prevent an uproar, and stringing him up atween two saplings, I made free

with his finery, and took the part of the bear on myself, in order that the

operations might proceed.”

“And admirably did you enact the character; the animal itself might have

been shamed by the representation.”

“Lord, major,” returned the flattered woodsman, “I should be

but a poor scholar for one who has studied so long in the wilderness, did I not

know how to set forth the movements or natur’ of such a beast. Had it

been now a catamount, or even a full-size panther, I would have embellished a

performance for you worth regarding. But it is no such marvelous feat to

exhibit the feats of so dull a beast; though, for that matter, too, a bear may

be overacted. Yes, yes; it is not every imitator that knows natur’ may be

outdone easier than she is equaled. But all our work is yet before us. Where is

the gentle one?”

“Heaven knows. I have examined every lodge in the village, without

discovering the slightest trace of her presence in the tribe.”

“You heard what the singer said, as he left us: ‘She is at hand,

and expects you’?”

“I have been compelled to believe he alluded to this unhappy

woman.”

“The simpleton was frightened, and blundered through his message; but he

had a deeper meaning. Here are walls enough to separate the whole settlement. A

bear ought to climb; therefore will I take a look above them. There may be

honey-pots hid in these rocks, and I am a beast, you know, that has a hankering

for the sweets.”

The scout looked behind him, laughing at his own conceit, while he clambered up

the partition, imitating, as he went, the clumsy motions of the beast he

represented; but the instant the summit was gained he made a gesture for

silence, and slid down with the utmost precipitation.

“She is here,” he whispered, “and by that door you will find

her. I would have spoken a word of comfort to the afflicted soul; but the sight

of such a monster might upset her reason. Though for that matter, major, you

are none of the most inviting yourself in your paint.”

Duncan, who had already swung eagerly forward, drew instantly back on hearing

these discouraging words.

“Am I, then, so very revolting?” he demanded, with an air of

chagrin.

“You might not startle a wolf, or turn the Royal Americans from a

discharge; but I have seen the time when you had a better favored look; your

streaked countenances are not ill-judged of by the squaws, but young women of

white blood give the preference to their own color. See,” he added,

pointing to a place where the water trickled from a rock, forming a little

crystal spring, before it found an issue through the adjacent crevices;

“you may easily get rid of the Sagamore’s daub, and when you come

back I will try my hand at a new embellishment. It’s as common for a

conjurer to alter his paint as for a buck in the settlements to change his

finery.”

The deliberate woodsman had little occasion to hunt for arguments to enforce

his advice. He was yet speaking when Duncan availed himself of the water. In a

moment every frightful or offensive mark was obliterated, and the youth

appeared again in the lineaments with which he had been gifted by nature. Thus

prepared for an interview with his mistress, he took a hasty leave of his

companion, and disappeared through the indicated passage. The scout witnessed

his departure with complacency, nodding his head after him, and muttering his

good wishes; after which he very coolly set about an examination of the state

of the larder, among the Hurons, the cavern, among other purposes, being used

as a receptacle for the fruits of their hunts.

Duncan had no other guide than a distant glimmering light, which served,

however, the office of a polar star to the lover. By its aid he was enabled to

enter the haven of his hopes, which was merely another apartment of the cavern,

that had been solely appropriated to the safekeeping of so important a prisoner

as a daughter of the commandant of William Henry. It was profusely strewed with

the plunder of that unlucky fortress. In the midst of this confusion he found

her he sought, pale, anxious and terrified, but lovely. David had prepared her

for such a visit.

“Duncan!” she exclaimed, in a voice that seemed to tremble at the

sounds created by itself.

“Alice!” he answered, leaping carelessly among trunks, boxes, arms,

and furniture, until he stood at her side.

“I knew that you would never desert me,” she said, looking up with

a momentary glow on her otherwise dejected countenance. “But you are

alone! Grateful as it is to be thus remembered, I could wish to think you are

not entirely alone.”

Duncan, observing that she trembled in a manner which betrayed her inability to

stand, gently induced her to be seated, while he recounted those leading

incidents which it has been our task to accord. Alice listened with breathless

interest; and though the young man touched lightly on the sorrows of the

stricken father; taking care, however, not to wound the self-love of his

auditor, the tears ran as freely down the cheeks of the daughter as though she

had never wept before. The soothing tenderness of Duncan, however, soon quieted

the first burst of her emotions, and she then heard him to the close with

undivided attention, if not with composure.

“And now, Alice,” he added, “you will see how much is still

expected of you. By the assistance of our experienced and invaluable friend,

the scout, we may find our way from this savage people, but you will have to

exert your utmost fortitude. Remember that you fly to the arms of your

venerable parent, and how much his happiness, as well as your own, depends on

those exertions.”

“Can I do otherwise for a father who has done so much for me?”

“And for me, too,” continued the youth, gently pressing the hand he

held in both his own.

The look of innocence and surprise which he received in return convinced Duncan

of the necessity of being more explicit.

“This is neither the place nor the occasion to detain you with selfish

wishes,” he added; “but what heart loaded like mine would not wish

to cast its burden? They say misery is the closest of all ties; our common

suffering in your behalf left but little to be explained between your father

and myself.”

“And, dearest Cora, Duncan; surely Cora was not forgotten?”

“Not forgotten! no; regretted, as woman was seldom mourned before. Your

venerable father knew no difference between his children; but I—Alice,

you will not be offended when I say, that to me her worth was in a degree

obscured—”

“Then you knew not the merit of my sister,” said Alice, withdrawing

her hand; “of you she ever speaks as of one who is her dearest

friend.”

“I would gladly believe her such,” returned Duncan, hastily;

“I could wish her to be even more; but with you, Alice, I have the

permission of your father to aspire to a still nearer and dearer tie.”

Alice trembled violently, and there was an instant during which she bent her

face aside, yielding to the emotions common to her sex; but they quickly passed

away, leaving her mistress of her deportment, if not of her affections.

“Heyward,” she said, looking him full in the face with a touching

expression of innocence and dependency, “give me the sacred presence and

the holy sanction of that parent before you urge me further.”

“Though more I should not, less I could not say,” the youth was

about to answer, when he was interrupted by a light tap on his shoulder.

Starting to his feet, he turned, and, confronting the intruder, his looks fell

on the dark form and malignant visage of Magua. The deep guttural laugh of the

savage sounded, at such a moment, to Duncan, like the hellish taunt of a demon.

Had he pursued the sudden and fierce impulse of the instant, he would have cast

himself on the Huron, and committed their fortunes to the issue of a deadly

struggle. But, without arms of any description, ignorant of what succor his

subtle enemy could command, and charged with the safety of one who was just

then dearer than ever to his heart, he no sooner entertained than he abandoned

the desperate intention.

“What is your purpose?” said Alice, meekly folding her arms on her

bosom, and struggling to conceal an agony of apprehension in behalf of Heyward,

in the usual cold and distant manner with which she received the visits of her

captor.

The exulting Indian had resumed his austere countenance, though he drew warily

back before the menacing glance of the young man’s fiery eye. He regarded

both his captives for a moment with a steady look, and then, stepping aside, he

dropped a log of wood across a door different from that by which Duncan had

entered. The latter now comprehended the manner of his surprise, and, believing

himself irretrievably lost, he drew Alice to his bosom, and stood prepared to

meet a fate which he hardly regretted, since it was to be suffered in such

company. But Magua meditated no immediate violence. His first measures were

very evidently taken to secure his new captive; nor did he even bestow a second

glance at the motionless forms in the center of the cavern, until he had

completely cut off every hope of retreat through the private outlet he had

himself used. He was watched in all his movements by Heyward, who, however,

remained firm, still folding the fragile form of Alice to his heart, at once

too proud and too hopeless to ask favor of an enemy so often foiled. When Magua

had effected his object he approached his prisoners, and said in English:

“The pale faces trap the cunning beavers; but the red-skins know how to

take the Yengeese.”

“Huron, do your worst!” exclaimed the excited Heyward, forgetful

that a double stake was involved in his life; “you and your vengeance are

alike despised.”

“Will the white man speak these words at the stake?” asked Magua;

manifesting, at the same time, how little faith he had in the other’s

resolution by the sneer that accompanied his words.

“Here; singly to your face, or in the presence of your nation.”

“Le Renard Subtil is a great chief!” returned the Indian; “he

will go and bring his young men, to see how bravely a pale face can laugh at

tortures.”

He turned away while speaking, and was about to leave the place through the

avenue by which Duncan had approached, when a growl caught his ear, and caused

him to hesitate. The figure of the bear appeared in the door, where it sat,

rolling from side to side in its customary restlessness. Magua, like the father

of the sick woman, eyed it keenly for a moment, as if to ascertain its

character. He was far above the more vulgar superstitions of his tribe, and so

soon as he recognized the well-known attire of the conjurer, he prepared to

pass it in cool contempt. But a louder and more threatening growl caused him

again to pause. Then he seemed as if suddenly resolved to trifle no longer, and

moved resolutely forward.

The mimic animal, which had advanced a little, retired slowly in his front,

until it arrived again at the pass, when, rearing on his hinder legs, it beat

the air with its paws, in the manner practised by its brutal prototype.

“Fool!” exclaimed the chief, in Huron, “go play with the

children and squaws; leave men to their wisdom.”

He once more endeavored to pass the supposed empiric, scorning even the parade

of threatening to use the knife, or tomahawk, that was pendent from his belt.

Suddenly the beast extended its arms, or rather legs, and inclosed him in a

grasp that might have vied with the far-famed power of the “bear’s

hug” itself. Heyward had watched the whole procedure, on the part of

Hawkeye, with breathless interest. At first he relinquished his hold of Alice;

then he caught up a thong of buckskin, which had been used around some bundle,

and when he beheld his enemy with his two arms pinned to his side by the iron

muscles of the scout, he rushed upon him, and effectually secured them there.

Arms, legs, and feet were encircled in twenty folds of the thong, in less time

than we have taken to record the circumstance. When the formidable Huron was

completely pinioned, the scout released his hold, and Duncan laid his enemy on

his back, utterly helpless.

Throughout the whole of this sudden and extraordinary operation, Magua, though

he had struggled violently, until assured he was in the hands of one whose

nerves were far better strung than his own, had not uttered the slightest

exclamation. But when Hawkeye, by way of making a summary explanation of his

conduct, removed the shaggy jaws of the beast, and exposed his own rugged and

earnest countenance to the gaze of the Huron, the philosophy of the latter was

so far mastered as to permit him to utter the never failing:

“Hugh!”

“Ay, you’ve found your tongue,” said his undisturbed

conqueror; “now, in order that you shall not use it to our ruin, I must

make free to stop your mouth.”

As there was no time to be lost, the scout immediately set about effecting so

necessary a precaution; and when he had gagged the Indian, his enemy might

safely have been considered as “hors de combat.”

“By what place did the imp enter?” asked the industrious scout,

when his work was ended. “Not a soul has passed my way since you left

me.”

Duncan pointed out the door by which Magua had come, and which now presented

too many obstacles to a quick retreat.

“Bring on the gentle one, then,” continued his friend; “we

must make a push for the woods by the other outlet.”

“’Tis impossible!” said Duncan; “fear has overcome her,

and she is helpless. Alice! my sweet, my own Alice, arouse yourself; now is the

moment to fly. ’Tis in vain! she hears, but is unable to follow. Go,

noble and worthy friend; save yourself, and leave me to my fate.”

“Every trail has its end, and every calamity brings its lesson!”

returned the scout. “There, wrap her in them Indian cloths. Conceal all

of her little form. Nay, that foot has no fellow in the wilderness; it will

betray her. All, every part. Now take her in your arms, and follow. Leave the

rest to me.”

Duncan, as may be gathered from the words of his companion, was eagerly

obeying; and, as the other finished speaking, he took the light person of Alice

in his arms, and followed in the footsteps of the scout. They found the sick

woman as they had left her, still alone, and passed swiftly on, by the natural

gallery, to the place of entrance. As they approached the little door of bark,

a murmur of voices without announced that the friends and relatives of the

invalid were gathered about the place, patiently awaiting a summons to

re-enter.

“If I open my lips to speak,” Hawkeye whispered, “my English,

which is the genuine tongue of a white-skin, will tell the varlets that an

enemy is among them. You must give ’em your jargon, major; and say that

we have shut the evil spirit in the cave, and are taking the woman to the woods

in order to find strengthening roots. Practise all your cunning, for it is a

lawful undertaking.”

The door opened a little, as if one without was listening to the proceedings

within, and compelled the scout to cease his directions. A fierce growl

repelled the eavesdropper, and then the scout boldly threw open the covering of

bark, and left the place, enacting the character of a bear as he proceeded.

Duncan kept close at his heels, and soon found himself in the center of a

cluster of twenty anxious relatives and friends.

The crowd fell back a little, and permitted the father, and one who appeared to

be the husband of the woman, to approach.

“Has my brother driven away the evil spirit?” demanded the former.

“What has he in his arms?”

“Thy child,” returned Duncan, gravely; “the disease has gone

out of her; it is shut up in the rocks. I take the woman to a distance, where I

will strengthen her against any further attacks. She will be in the wigwam of

the young man when the sun comes again.”

When the father had translated the meaning of the stranger’s words into

the Huron language, a suppressed murmur announced the satisfaction with which

this intelligence was received. The chief himself waved his hand for Duncan to

proceed, saying aloud, in a firm voice, and with a lofty manner:

“Go; I am a man, and I will enter the rock and fight the wicked

one.”

Heyward had gladly obeyed, and was already past the little group, when these

startling words arrested him.

“Is my brother mad?” he exclaimed; “is he cruel? He will meet

the disease, and it will enter him; or he will drive out the disease, and it

will chase his daughter into the woods. No; let my children wait without, and

if the spirit appears beat him down with clubs. He is cunning, and will bury

himself in the mountain, when he sees how many are ready to fight him.”

This singular warning had the desired effect. Instead of entering the cavern,

the father and husband drew their tomahawks, and posted themselves in readiness

to deal their vengeance on the imaginary tormentor of their sick relative,

while the women and children broke branches from the bushes, or seized

fragments of the rock, with a similar intention. At this favorable moment the

counterfeit conjurers disappeared.

Hawkeye, at the same time that he had presumed so far on the nature of the

Indian superstitions, was not ignorant that they were rather tolerated than

relied on by the wisest of the chiefs. He well knew the value of time in the

present emergency. Whatever might be the extent of the self-delusion of his

enemies, and however it had tended to assist his schemes, the slightest cause

of suspicion, acting on the subtle nature of an Indian, would be likely to

prove fatal. Taking the path, therefore, that was most likely to avoid

observation, he rather skirted than entered the village. The warriors were

still to be seen in the distance, by the fading light of the fires, stalking

from lodge to lodge. But the children had abandoned their sports for their beds

of skins, and the quiet of night was already beginning to prevail over the

turbulence and excitement of so busy and important an evening.

Alice revived under the renovating influence of the open air, and, as her

physical rather than her mental powers had been the subject of weakness, she

stood in no need of any explanation of that which had occurred.

“Now let me make an effort to walk,” she said, when they had

entered the forest, blushing, though unseen, that she had not been sooner able

to quit the arms of Duncan; “I am indeed restored.”

“Nay, Alice, you are yet too weak.”

The maiden struggled gently to release herself, and Heyward was compelled to

part with his precious burden. The representative of the bear had certainly

been an entire stranger to the delicious emotions of the lover while his arms

encircled his mistress; and he was, perhaps, a stranger also to the nature of

that feeling of ingenuous shame that oppressed the trembling Alice. But when he

found himself at a suitable distance from the lodges he made a halt, and spoke

on a subject of which he was thoroughly the master.

“This path will lead you to the brook,” he said; “follow its

northern bank until you come to a fall; mount the hill on your right, and you

will see the fires of the other people. There you must go and demand

protection; if they are true Delawares you will be safe. A distant flight with

that gentle one, just now, is impossible. The Hurons would follow up our trail,

and master our scalps before we had got a dozen miles. Go, and Providence be

with you.”

“And you!” demanded Heyward, in surprise; “surely we part not

here?”

“The Hurons hold the pride of the Delawares; the last of the high blood

of the Mohicans is in their power,” returned the scout; “I go to

see what can be done in his favor. Had they mastered your scalp, major, a knave

should have fallen for every hair it held, as I promised; but if the young

Sagamore is to be led to the stake, the Indians shall see also how a man

without a cross can die.”

Not in the least offended with the decided preference that the sturdy woodsman

gave to one who might, in some degree, be called the child of his adoption,

Duncan still continued to urge such reasons against so desperate an effort as

presented themselves. He was aided by Alice, who mingled her entreaties with

those of Heyward that he would abandon a resolution that promised so much

danger, with so little hope of success. Their eloquence and ingenuity were

expended in vain. The scout heard them attentively, but impatiently, and

finally closed the discussion, by answering, in a tone that instantly silenced

Alice, while it told Heyward how fruitless any further remonstrances would be.

“I have heard,” he said, “that there is a feeling in youth

which binds man to woman closer than the father is tied to the son. It may be

so. I have seldom been where women of my color dwell; but such may be the gifts

of nature in the settlements. You have risked life, and all that is dear to

you, to bring off this gentle one, and I suppose that some such disposition is

at the bottom of it all. As for me, I taught the lad the real character of a

rifle; and well has he paid me for it. I have fou’t at his side in many a

bloody scrimmage; and so long as I could hear the crack of his piece in one

ear, and that of the Sagamore in the other, I knew no enemy was on my back.

Winters and summer, nights and days, have we roved the wilderness in company,

eating of the same dish, one sleeping while the other watched; and afore it

shall be said that Uncas was taken to the torment, and I at hand—There is

but a single Ruler of us all, whatever may the color of the skin; and Him I

call to witness, that before the Mohican boy shall perish for the want of a

friend, good faith shall depart the ’arth, and ‘killdeer’

become as harmless as the tooting we’pon of the singer!”

Duncan released his hold on the arm of the scout, who turned, and steadily

retraced his steps toward the lodges. After pausing a moment to gaze at his

retiring form, the successful and yet sorrowful Heyward and Alice took their

way together toward the distant village of the Delawares.

[Illustration]