The Last of the Mohicans

James Fenimore Cooper, born in New Jersey on September 15,

1789, was a hot-headed controversialist of Quaker descent,

who, after a restless youth, partly spent at sea, became the

earliest conspicuous American novelist. Apart from fiction,

Cooper's principal subject was American naval history. Though

he made many enemies and lived in turmoil, the novelist had a

strain of nobility in his character that is reflected

throughout his formal but manly narratives. Love interest

rarely rises in his stories beyond a mechanical

sentimentality; it is the descriptions of adventure that

attract. Nowhere are Fenimore Cooper's vivid powers of

description more apparent than in "The Last of the Mohicans,"

the second in order of the Leatherstocking tales. In the first

of the series, "The Pioneers," the Leatherstocking is

represented as already past the prime of life, and is

gradually being driven out of his beloved forests by the axe

and the smoke of the white settler. "The Last of the Mohicans"

takes the reader back before this period, to a time when the

red man was in his vigour, and was a power to be reckoned with

in the east of America. The third of the famous tales is "The

Prairie," in which Cooper's picturesque hero is laid in his

grave. Despite this, the author resuscitates him in the two

remaining volumes--"The Pathfinder" and "The Deerslayer." Of

these five novels, and, as a matter of fact, of all Cooper's

works, "The Last of the Mohicans" is regarded as the

masterpiece. In it are to be found all the author's virtues,

and few of his faults. It is certainly the most popular,

having been translated into several languages. It was first

published in 1826. Cooper died at Cooperstown, the family

locality, on September 14. 1851.

_I.--Betrayed by the Redskin_

It was the third year of the war between France and England in North

America. At Fort Edward, where General Webb lay with five thousand men,

the startling news had just been received that the French general,

Montcalm, was moving up the Champlain Lake with an army "numerous as the

leaves on the trees," with the forest fastness of Fort William Henry as

his object.

Fort William Henry was held by the veteran Scotchman, Munro, at the head

of a regiment of regulars and a few provincials. As this force was

utterly inadequate to stem Montcalm's advance, General Webb at once sent

fifteen hundred men to strengthen the position. While the camp was in a

state of bustle consequent on the departure of this relieving force,

Captain Duncan Hayward detached himself from the throng, and conducting

two ladies, the daughters of Munro, Alice and Cora, to their horses,

mounted another steed himself. It was his welcome duty to see that the

ladies reached Fort William Henry in safety. In order that they might

make the journey the more expeditiously, they had obtained the services

of a famous Indian runner, known by the name of Le Renard Subtil, whose

native appellation was Magua.

The party had but five leagues to traverse, and Magua had undertaken to

lead them a short way through the forest. The girls hesitated as they

reached the point where they left the military road and had to take to a

narrow and blind path amidst the dense trees and undergrowth. The

terrifying aspect of the guide and the loneliness of the route filled

them with alarm.

"Here, then, lies our way," said Duncan in a low voice. "Manifest no

distrust, or you may invite the danger you appear to apprehend."

Taking this hint, the girls whipped up their horses and followed the

runner along the dark and tangled pathway. They had not gone far when

they heard the sounds of a horse's hoofs behind them, and presently

there dashed up to their side a singular-looking person, with

extraordinary long thin legs, an emaciated body, and an enormous head.

The grotesqueness of his figure was enhanced by a sky-blue coat and a

soiled vest of embossed silk embroidered with tarnished silver lace.

Coming up with the party, he declared his intention of accompanying them

to Fort William Henry. Refusing to listen to any objection, he took from

his vest a curious musical instrument, and, placing it to his mouth,

drew from it a high, shrill sound. This done, he began singing in full

and melodious tones one of the New England versions of the Psalms.

Magua whispered something to Heyward, and the latter turned impatiently

to David Gamut--such was the singer's name--and requested him in the

name of common prudence to postpone his chant until a safer opportunity.

The Indian allies of Montcalm, it was known, swarmed in the forest, and

the object of the party was to move forward as quietly as possible.

As the cavalcade pressed deeper into the wild thicket, a savage face

peered out at them from between the bushes. A gleam of exultation shot

across his darkly painted lineaments as he watched his victims walking

unconsciously into the trap which Magua had prepared.

_II.--In the Nick of Time_

Within an hour's journey of Fort Edward two men were lingering on the

banks of a small stream. One of them was a magnificent specimen of an

Indian--almost naked, with a terrific emblem of death painted upon his

chest. The other was a European, with the quick, roving eye, sun-tanned

cheeks, and rough dress of a hunter.

"Listen, Hawk-eye," said the Indian, addressing his companion, "and I

will tell you what my fathers have said, and what the Mohicans have

done. We came and made this land ours, and drove the Maquas who followed

us, into the woods with the bears. Then came the Dutch, and gave my

people the fire-water. They drank until the heavens and the earth seemed

to meet. Then they parted with their land, and now I, that am a chief

and a Sagamore, have never seen the sun shine but through the trees, and

have never visited the graves of my fathers. When Uncas, my son, dies,

there will no longer be any of the blood of the Sagamores. My boy is the

last of the Mohicans."

"Uncas is here," said another voice, in the same soft, guttural tones.

"Who speaks to Uncas?" At the next instant a youthful warrior passed

between them with a noiseless tread, and seated himself by the side of

his father, Chingachgook. "I have been on the trail of the Maquas, who

lie hid like cowards," continued Uncas.

Further talk regarding their hated enemies, the Maquas, who acted as the

spies of Montcalm, was cut short by the sound of horses' feet. The three

men rose to their feet, their eyes watchful and attentive, and their

rifles ready for any emergency.

Presently, the cavalcade from Fort Edward appeared, and Heyward,

addressing Hawk-eye, asked for information as to their whereabouts,

explaining that they had trusted to an Indian, who had lost his way.

"An Indian lost in the woods?" exclaimed the scout. "I should like to

look at the creature."

Saying this, he crept stealthily into the thicket. In a few moments he

returned, his suspicions fully confirmed. Magua had clearly led the

party into a trap for purposes of his own, and Hawk-eye at once took

steps to secure his capture. While Heyward held the runner in

conversation, the scout and the two Mohicans crept silently through the

undergrowth to surround him, but the slight crackle of a breaking stick

aroused Magua's suspicion, and, even as the ambush closed on him, he

dodged under Heyward's arms and vanished into the opposite thicket.

Hawk-eye was too well acquainted with Indian ways to think of pursuing,

and, restraining the eagerness of Heyward, who would have followed

Magua, and would have been undoubtedly led to the place where the

scalping-knives of Magua's companions awaited him, the scout called a

council of war.

The position was serious in the extreme, how serious was disclosed that

night as they lay hid in a cave.

Suddenly, with blood-curdling yells, the Maquas surrounded them. They

were surrounded completely, and, to add to the terrors of their

situation, they discovered that their ammunition was exhausted. There

seemed nothing to be done but die fighting. It was Cora who suggested an

alternative: that Hawk-eye and the two Mohicans should make for Fort

William Henry and procure from their father, Munro, enough men to take

them back in safety. It was the one desperate chance, and the Mohicans

took it. Dropping silently down the river, they disappeared. Duncan,

David, and the two girls were left alone; but not for long. As the night

drew out, a body of the Maquas, swimming across the river, entered the

cave, and made the whole party prisoners.

It was Magua who directed all these operations, and it was Magua who

announced their fate to his prisoners. Alice should go back to her

father, but Cora was to become his squaw in an Indian wigwam.

"Monster!" cried Cora, when this proposal was laid before her. "None but

a fiend could meditate such a vengeance!"

Magua answered with a ghastly smile, and, at his command, the Indians,

seizing their white victims, bound them to four trees. Stakes of glowing

wood were prepared for their torture. Once more Magua offered the

alternative of dishonour or death. Cora wavered, but Alice strengthened

her resolution.

"No, no!" she cried. "Better that we die as we have lived, together."

"Then die!" shouted Magua, hurling his tomahawk at the girl's head. It

missed her by an inch. Another savage rushed to complete the terrible

deed. Maddened at the sight, Duncan broke his bonds, and flung himself

on the savage. He was at once overpowered. He saw a knife glistening

above his head; it was just about to descend. Suddenly there was a sharp

crack of a rifle, and his assailant fell dead at his feet. At the same

moment Hawk-eye and the two Mohicans dashed into the encampment. In a

few moments the six Indians, taken by surprise, were killed; only Magua

lived. He seemed to be at the mercy of Chingachgook. Already he lay

apparently lifeless. The Mohican rose with a yell of triumph, and raised

his knife to give the final blow. Even as he did so Magua rolled himself

over the edge of the precipice near which he lay, and, alighting on his

feet, leapt into the centre of a thicket of low bushes and disappeared.

_III.--"The Jubilee of Devils_"

The party had reached William Henry only to leave it again. Montcalm

asked for an interview with Munro, and through Duncan, who acted as the

latter's representative, explained that it was hopeless to think of

holding the fort. General Webb had withdrawn the relieving force, and

the English were outnumbered by about twenty to one. With chivalrous

courtesy, the French general proposed that his brave enemies should

march out with their arms and ammunition and all the honours of war.

These conditions Munro sadly accepted. Compelled to be with his men,

Munro entrusted his daughters to the care of David.

According to the conditions of the surrender, the troops marched out.

Behind them came the women and stragglers, the French and their native

allies watching them in silence. At the other side of the plain was a

defile. The troops slowly entered this, and disappeared. The rear-guard

of civilians was now left alone on the plain. Cora, as she pressed

slowly onwards with her sister and David, saw Magua addressing the

natives, speaking with his fatal and artful eloquence. The effect of his

words was soon seen.

One of the savages, attracted by the shawl in which a mother had wrapped

her baby, seized the child, and dashed its brains out on the ground. As

the mother sprang forward, he buried his tomahawk in her brain. It was

the signal for a massacre. Magua raised the fatal and appalling

war-whoop. At its sound two thousand savages broke from the wood and

fell upon the unresisting victims. Death was everywhere, and in his most

terrific and disgusting aspect.

"It is the jubilee of devils," said David, who, in spite of his

uselessness, never dreamed of deserting his trust. "If David tamed the

evil spirit of Saul, it may not be amiss to try the potency of music

here."

He poured out a strain of song that echoed even over the din of that

bloody field. Magua heard it and, through the throng of savages, rushed

to their side.

"Come," he cried, seizing Alice in his blood-stained arms; "the wigwam

of the Huron is still open!"

In vain Cora begged him to release her sister. Across the plain he bore

her swiftly, followed by Cora and David. As soon as he reached the

woods, he placed the two girls on horses that were waiting there, and,

never heeding David, who mounted the remaining steed, dashed forward

into the wilds.

_IV.--Captives of the Hurons_

Three days after the surrender of the fort, Hawk-eye and his two Mohican

companions, accompanied by Munroe and Duncan, stood upon the fatal

plain. Everywhere they had searched for the bodies of the two girls, and

nowhere could they be found. It was clear to Hawk-eye that they still

lived, and had been carried off by Magua. With untiring energy he at

once set off to try and discover the trail. It was Uncas, who, finding a

portion of Cora's skirt caught on a bush, first opened up the line of

pursuit. He it was, too, who read the track of Magua's feet on the

ground--the unmistakable straddling toe of the drinking savage. An

ornament dropped by Alice, and the large footprints of the

singing-master, laid bare to the trained intelligence of the Indian

scout everything that had happened.

As they reached the outskirts of a clearing, they perceived a

melancholy-looking savage in war-paint and moccasins seated by the side

of a stream watching a colony of beavers busily engaged in making a dam.

Duncan was about to fire, but Hawk-eye, roaring with laughter, stayed

his arm. The savage was none other than David.

Alice and Cora were near at hand, and Duncan was all eager to make his

way to their side. Hawk-eye so far humoured his whim as to consent to

his visiting the encampment disguised as a medicine man.

As soon as he entered the camp he declared that he had been sent by the

Grand Monarque to heal the ills of the Hurons. The chief to whom he

spoke listened to him for some time, and then asked him to show his

skill by frightening away the evil spirit that lived in the wife of one

of his young men. Duncan could not refuse, though he felt certain that

the trial of his skill would result in the detection of his disguise.

Just as the chief was about to lead the way to the woman's side, Magua

joined the group, to be followed shortly afterwards by a number of young

men bringing with them a prisoner. A cry went up, "Le Cerf Agile!" and

every warrior sprang to his feet. To his dismay, Duncan saw that it was

Uncas. Magua gazed at his captive gravely for some time; then, raising

his arm, shook it at him, exclaiming, "Mohican, you die!"

Duncan's conductor led him to a cave which went some distance into the

rocky side of the mountain. As he entered, Duncan saw a dark;

mysterious-looking object that rose unexpectedly in his path. It was a

bear, and though the young soldier knew that the Indians often kept such

animals as pets, its deep growls, and the manner in which it clutched at

him as he passed up the long, narrow passage of the cave, caused him not

a little uneasiness.

Having shown him the sick woman, who, it was clear, was dying, the

Indians left the supposed medicine man to fight the devils by himself.

To his horror, Duncan saw that the bear remained behind, growling

savagely. Watching it uneasily, he noticed its head suddenly fall on one

side, and in its place appeared the sturdy countenance of the scout. As

quickly as he could Hawk-eye explained how he had come across a wizard

preparing for a _séance_, how he had knocked him on the head and taken

the bear's skin in which the charlatan had proposed to make his magic.

While the scout rearranged his disguise, Duncan, searching the cave, in

another compartment discovered Alice. But even as the girl was in the

first throes of delight at this unexpected meeting, the guttural laugh

of Magua was heard, and she saw the dark form and malignant visage of

the savage.

"Huron, do your worst!" exclaimed the excited Heyward, as he saw that

all his plans were brought to nought.

"Will the white man speak these words at the stake?" asked Magua,

turning to leave the cave. As he did so the bear growled loudly and

threateningly; believing it to be one of the wizards, Magua attempted to

pass it contemptuously. Suddenly the animal rushed at him, and, seizing

him in its arms, completely overpowered him. Duncan at once ran to the

scout's assistance, and secured the savage.

At Hawk-eye's suggestion, Alice was wrapped up in the dying woman's

clothes, and, completely hidden from view, was carried out of the cave.

"The disease has gone out of her," explained Duncan to the father and

husband who waited without. "I go to take the woman to a distance, where

I will strengthen her against any further attack. Let my children wait

without, and if the evil spirit appears beat him down with clubs."

Leaving the Indians with a certainty that they would not enter the

cavern and discover Magua, Duncan and the scout made their way to the

hut where Uncas lay bound. Entering with David, they released the

Mohican, and immediately hastened to take the next step suggested by the

resourceful Hawk-eye. David was secure from all harm; so the scout,

stepping out of his bear-skin, dressed himself in the singing-master's

clothes, while Uncas donned the wizard's disguise. Thus arrayed they

ventured out among the natives, leaving David within. Without being

suspected, they passed through the encampment; but they had not got far

before a yell announced that their subterfuge had been discovered. Uncas

cast his skin, and having used their rifles with deadly effect, he and

the scout made their escape into the woods, taking Alice with them.

_V.--Hawk-eye's Revenge_

Magua, for motives of policy, had, while keeping Alice in his own hands,

entrusted Cora to the neighbouring tribe of Tortoise Delawares. Thither

went Magua, to find that the scout and his companions were before him.

Nothing daunted, Magua almost persuaded the Tortoises to surrender the

girl. As the chief of the tribe hesitated how to act, Uncas stepped

forward and bared his breast. A cry rose from all present, for there,

delicately tatooed on the young Mohican's skin, was the emblem of a

Tortoise. In him the tribe recognised the long-lost scion of the purest

race of the Delawares, who, tradition said, still wandered far and

unknown on the hills and through the forests.

But in spite of Uncas's authority, the Indian law could not be set

aside. Cora was Magua's captive of war. He had sought her in peace, and

she must follow him. By all the laws of Indian hospitality his person

was sacred till the setting of the sun.

As soon as the Maquas had disappeared, the Tortoises made ready for war,

with all the grim and terrifying ceremonies of their race. As hour after

hour slipped by, the savage spirit of the tribe increased in fury. Uncas

alone remained unmoved. Standing in the midst of the now maddened

savages, he kept his eyes fixed upon the declining sun. It dipped

beneath the horizon; at once the whole encampment was broken up, and the

warriors rushed down the trail which Magua had followed.

As soon as they came in touch with the enemy, a desperate and bloody

battle was fought. Under the leadership of the two Mohicans and

Hawk-eye, victory swayed to the side of the Tortoises. Huron after Huron

fell, until only Magua and two companions were left. Then, with a yell,

Le Renard Subtil rushed from the field of battle, and, seizing Cora, ran

up a steep defile towards the mountains. On the side of the precipice

Cora refused to move any farther.

"Woman!" cried Magua, raising his knife, "choose--the wigwam or the

knife of Le Subtil?"

Cora neither heard nor heeded his demands. Magua trembled in every

fibre. He raised his arm on high. Just then a piercing cry was heard

from above, and Uncas leapt frantically from a fearful height upon the

ledge on which they stood. He fell prostrate for a moment. As he lay

there, Magua plunged his knife into his back, and at the same moment one

of the other Indians stretched Cora lifeless. With the last effort of

his strength Uncas rose to his feet, and hurled Cora's murderer into the

abyss below. Then, with a stern and steady look, he turned to Le Subtil

and indicated with the expression of his eye all that he would do had

not the power deserted him, Magua seized his nerveless arm and stretched

him dead by passing his dagger several times through his body.

"Mercy!" cried Heyward from above. "Give mercy, and thou shalt receive

it!"

For answer, Magua raised a shout of triumph, and, leaping a wide

fissure, made for the summit of the mountain. A single bound would carry

him to the brow of the precipice and assure his safety. Before taking

the leap he shook his hand defiantly at Hawk-eye, who waited with his

rifle raised.

"The pale faces are dogs! The Delawares women! Magua leaves them on the

rocks for the crows!"

Making a desperate leap, and falling short of his mark, Magua saved

himself by grasping some shrub on the verge of the height. With an

effort he pulled himself up. Hawk-eye, whose rifle shook with suppressed

excitement, watched him closely. As his body was thus collected

together, he drew the weapon to his shoulder and fired.

The arms of the Huron relaxed and his body fell back a little, but his

knees still kept their position. Turning a relentless look on his enemy,

he shook his hand at him in grim defiance. But his hold loosened, and

his dark person was seen cutting the air, with its head downwards, for a

fleeting instant, until it glided past the fringe of shrubbery in its

rapid flight to destruction.

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