“Ant. I shall remember: When C’sar says
Do this, it is performed.”
—Julius Caesar
The impatience of the savages who lingered about the prison of Uncas, as has
been seen, had overcome their dread of the conjurer’s breath. They stole
cautiously, and with beating hearts, to a crevice, through which the faint
light of the fire was glimmering. For several minutes they mistook the form of
David for that of the prisoner; but the very accident which Hawkeye had
foreseen occurred. Tired of keeping the extremities of his long person so near
together, the singer gradually suffered the lower limbs to extend themselves,
until one of his misshapen feet actually came in contact with and shoved aside
the embers of the fire. At first the Hurons believed the Delaware had been thus
deformed by witchcraft. But when David, unconscious of being observed, turned
his head, and exposed his simple, mild countenance, in place of the haughty
lineaments of their prisoner, it would have exceeded the credulity of even a
native to have doubted any longer. They rushed together into the lodge, and,
laying their hands, with but little ceremony, on their captive, immediately
detected the imposition. Then arose the cry first heard by the fugitives. It
was succeeded by the most frantic and angry demonstrations of vengeance. David,
however, firm in his determination to cover the retreat of his friends, was
compelled to believe that his own final hour had come. Deprived of his book and
his pipe, he was fain to trust to a memory that rarely failed him on such
subjects; and breaking forth in a loud and impassioned strain, he endeavored to
smooth his passage into the other world by singing the opening verse of a
funeral anthem. The Indians were seasonably reminded of his infirmity, and,
rushing into the open air, they aroused the village in the manner described.
A native warrior fights as he sleeps, without the protection of anything
defensive. The sounds of the alarm were, therefore, hardly uttered before two
hundred men were afoot, and ready for the battle or the chase, as either might
be required. The escape was soon known; and the whole tribe crowded, in a body,
around the council-lodge, impatiently awaiting the instruction of their chiefs.
In such a sudden demand on their wisdom, the presence of the cunning Magua
could scarcely fail of being needed. His name was mentioned, and all looked
round in wonder that he did not appear. Messengers were then despatched to his
lodge requiring his presence.
In the meantime, some of the swiftest and most discreet of the young men were
ordered to make the circuit of the clearing, under cover of the woods, in order
to ascertain that their suspected neighbors, the Delawares, designed no
mischief. Women and children ran to and fro; and, in short, the whole
encampment exhibited another scene of wild and savage confusion. Gradually,
however, these symptoms of disorder diminished; and in a few minutes the oldest
and most distinguished chiefs were assembled in the lodge, in grave
consultation.
The clamor of many voices soon announced that a party approached, who might be
expected to communicate some intelligence that would explain the mystery of the
novel surprise. The crowd without gave way, and several warriors entered the
place, bringing with them the hapless conjurer, who had been left so long by
the scout in duress.
Notwithstanding this man was held in very unequal estimation among the Hurons,
some believing implicitly in his power, and others deeming him an impostor, he
was now listened to by all with the deepest attention. When his brief story was
ended, the father of the sick woman stepped forth, and, in a few pithy
expression, related, in his turn, what he knew. These two narratives gave a
proper direction to the subsequent inquiries, which were now made with the
characteristic cunning of savages.
Instead of rushing in a confused and disorderly throng to the cavern, ten of
the wisest and firmest among the chiefs were selected to prosecute the
investigation. As no time was to be lost, the instant the choice was made the
individuals appointed rose in a body and left the place without speaking. On
reaching the entrance, the younger men in advance made way for their seniors;
and the whole proceeded along the low, dark gallery, with the firmness of
warriors ready to devote themselves to the public good, though, at the same
time, secretly doubting the nature of the power with which they were about to
contend.
The outer apartment of the cavern was silent and gloomy. The woman lay in her
usual place and posture, though there were those present who affirmed they had
seen her borne to the woods by the supposed “medicine of the white
men.” Such a direct and palpable contradiction of the tale related by the
father caused all eyes to be turned on him. Chafed by the silent imputation,
and inwardly troubled by so unaccountable a circumstance, the chief advanced to
the side of the bed, and, stooping, cast an incredulous look at the features,
as if distrusting their reality. His daughter was dead.
The unerring feeling of nature for a moment prevailed and the old warrior hid
his eyes in sorrow. Then, recovering his self-possession, he faced his
companions, and, pointing toward the corpse, he said, in the language of his
people:
“The wife of my young man has left us! The Great Spirit is angry with his
children.”
The mournful intelligence was received in solemn silence. After a short pause,
one of the elder Indians was about to speak, when a dark-looking object was
seen rolling out of an adjoining apartment, into the very center of the room
where they stood. Ignorant of the nature of the beings they had to deal with,
the whole party drew back a little, and, rising on end, exhibited the distorted
but still fierce and sullen features of Magua. The discovery was succeeded by a
general exclamation of amazement.
As soon, however, as the true situation of the chief was understood, several
knives appeared, and his limbs and tongue were quickly released. The Huron
arose, and shook himself like a lion quitting his lair. Not a word escaped him,
though his hand played convulsively with the handle of his knife, while his
lowering eyes scanned the whole party, as if they sought an object suited to
the first burst of his vengeance.
It was happy for Uncas and the scout, and even David, that they were all beyond
the reach of his arm at such a moment; for, assuredly, no refinement in cruelty
would then have deferred their deaths, in opposition to the promptings of the
fierce temper that nearly choked him. Meeting everywhere faces that he knew as
friends, the savage grated his teeth together like rasps of iron, and swallowed
his passion for want of a victim on whom to vent it. This exhibition of anger
was noted by all present; and from an apprehension of exasperating a temper
that was already chafed nearly to madness, several minutes were suffered to
pass before another word was uttered. When, however, suitable time had elapsed,
the oldest of the party spoke.
“My friend has found an enemy,” he said. “Is he nigh that the
Hurons might take revenge?”
“Let the Delaware die!” exclaimed Magua, in a voice of thunder.
Another longer and expressive silence was observed, and was broken, as before,
with due precaution, by the same individual.
“The Mohican is swift of foot, and leaps far,” he said; “but
my young men are on his trail.”
“Is he gone?” demanded Magua, in tones so deep and guttural, that
they seemed to proceed from his inmost chest.
“An evil spirit has been among us, and the Delaware has blinded our
eyes.”
“An evil spirit!” repeated the other, mockingly; “’tis
the spirit that has taken the lives of so many Hurons; the spirit that slew my
young men at ‘the tumbling river’; that took their scalps at the
‘healing spring’; and who has, now, bound the arms of Le Renard
Subtil!”
“Of whom does my friend speak?”
“Of the dog who carries the heart and cunning of a Huron under a pale
skin—La Longue Carabine.”
The pronunciation of so terrible a name produced the usual effect among his
auditors. But when time was given for reflection, and the warriors remembered
that their formidable and daring enemy had even been in the bosom of their
encampment, working injury, fearful rage took the place of wonder, and all
those fierce passions with which the bosom of Magua had just been struggling
were suddenly transferred to his companions. Some among them gnashed their
teeth in anger, others vented their feelings in yells, and some, again, beat
the air as frantically as if the object of their resentment were suffering
under their blows. But this sudden outbreaking of temper as quickly subsided in
the still and sullen restraint they most affected in their moments of inaction.
Magua, who had in his turn found leisure for reflection, now changed his
manner, and assumed the air of one who knew how to think and act with a dignity
worthy of so grave a subject.
“Let us go to my people,” he said; “they wait for us.”
His companions consented in silence, and the whole of the savage party left the
cavern and returned to the council-lodge. When they were seated, all eyes
turned on Magua, who understood, from such an indication, that, by common
consent, they had devolved the duty of relating what had passed on him. He
arose, and told his tale without duplicity or reservation. The whole deception
practised by both Duncan and Hawkeye was, of course, laid naked, and no room
was found, even for the most superstitious of the tribe, any longer to affix a
doubt on the character of the occurrences. It was but too apparent that they
had been insultingly, shamefully, disgracefully deceived. When he had ended,
and resumed his seat, the collected tribe—for his auditors, in substance,
included all the fighting men of the party—sat regarding each other like
men astonished equally at the audacity and the success of their enemies. The
next consideration, however, was the means and opportunities for revenge.
Additional pursuers were sent on the trail of the fugitives; and then the
chiefs applied themselves, in earnest, to the business of consultation. Many
different expedients were proposed by the elder warriors, in succession, to all
of which Magua was a silent and respectful listener. That subtle savage had
recovered his artifice and self-command, and now proceeded toward his object
with his customary caution and skill. It was only when each one disposed to
speak had uttered his sentiments, that he prepared to advance his own opinions.
They were given with additional weight from the circumstance that some of the
runners had already returned, and reported that their enemies had been traced
so far as to leave no doubt of their having sought safety in the neighboring
camp of their suspected allies, the Delawares. With the advantage of possessing
this important intelligence, the chief warily laid his plans before his
fellows, and, as might have been anticipated from his eloquence and cunning,
they were adopted without a dissenting voice. They were, briefly, as follows,
both in opinions and in motives.
It has been already stated that, in obedience to a policy rarely departed from,
the sisters were separated so soon as they reached the Huron village. Magua had
early discovered that in retaining the person of Alice, he possessed the most
effectual check on Cora. When they parted, therefore, he kept the former within
reach of his hand, consigning the one he most valued to the keeping of their
allies. The arrangement was understood to be merely temporary, and was made as
much with a view to flatter his neighbors as in obedience to the invariable
rule of Indian policy.
While goaded incessantly by these revengeful impulses that in a savage seldom
slumber, the chief was still attentive to his more permanent personal
interests. The follies and disloyalty committed in his youth were to be
expiated by a long and painful penance, ere he could be restored to the full
enjoyment of the confidence of his ancient people; and without confidence there
could be no authority in an Indian tribe. In this delicate and arduous
situation, the crafty native had neglected no means of increasing his
influence; and one of the happiest of his expedients had been the success with
which he had cultivated the favor of their powerful and dangerous neighbors.
The result of his experiment had answered all the expectations of his policy;
for the Hurons were in no degree exempt from that governing principle of
nature, which induces man to value his gifts precisely in the degree that they
are appreciated by others.
But, while he was making this ostensible sacrifice to general considerations,
Magua never lost sight of his individual motives. The latter had been
frustrated by the unlooked-for events which had placed all his prisoners beyond
his control; and he now found himself reduced to the necessity of suing for
favors to those whom it had so lately been his policy to oblige.
Several of the chiefs had proposed deep and treacherous schemes to surprise the
Delawares and, by gaining possession of their camp, to recover their prisoners
by the same blow; for all agreed that their honor, their interests, and the
peace and happiness of their dead countrymen, imperiously required them
speedily to immolate some victims to their revenge. But plans so dangerous to
attempt, and of such doubtful issue, Magua found little difficulty in
defeating. He exposed their risk and fallacy with his usual skill; and it was
only after he had removed every impediment, in the shape of opposing advice,
that he ventured to propose his own projects.
He commenced by flattering the self-love of his auditors; a never-failing
method of commanding attention. When he had enumerated the many different
occasions on which the Hurons had exhibited their courage and prowess, in the
punishment of insults, he digressed in a high encomium on the virtue of wisdom.
He painted the quality as forming the great point of difference between the
beaver and other brutes; between the brutes and men; and, finally, between the
Hurons, in particular, and the rest of the human race. After he had
sufficiently extolled the property of discretion, he undertook to exhibit in
what manner its use was applicable to the present situation of their tribe. On
the one hand, he said, was their great pale father, the governor of the
Canadas, who had looked upon his children with a hard eye since their tomahawks
had been so red; on the other, a people as numerous as themselves, who spoke a
different language, possessed different interests, and loved them not, and who
would be glad of any pretense to bring them in disgrace with the great white
chief. Then he spoke of their necessities; of the gifts they had a right to
expect for their past services; of their distance from their proper
hunting-grounds and native villages; and of the necessity of consulting
prudence more, and inclination less, in so critical circumstances. When he
perceived that, while the old men applauded his moderation, many of the
fiercest and most distinguished of the warriors listened to these politic plans
with lowering looks, he cunningly led them back to the subject which they most
loved. He spoke openly of the fruits of their wisdom, which he boldly
pronounced would be a complete and final triumph over their enemies. He even
darkly hinted that their success might be extended, with proper caution, in
such a manner as to include the destruction of all whom they had reason to
hate. In short, he so blended the warlike with the artful, the obvious with the
obscure, as to flatter the propensities of both parties, and to leave to each
subject of hope, while neither could say it clearly comprehended his
intentions.
The orator, or the politician, who can produce such a state of things, is
commonly popular with his contemporaries, however he may be treated by
posterity. All perceived that more was meant than was uttered, and each one
believed that the hidden meaning was precisely such as his own faculties
enabled him to understand, or his own wishes led him to anticipate.
In this happy state of things, it is not surprising that the management of
Magua prevailed. The tribe consented to act with deliberation, and with one
voice they committed the direction of the whole affair to the government of the
chief who had suggested such wise and intelligible expedients.
Magua had now attained one great object of all his cunning and enterprise. The
ground he had lost in the favor of his people was completely regained, and he
found himself even placed at the head of affairs. He was, in truth, their
ruler; and, so long as he could maintain his popularity, no monarch could be
more despotic, especially while the tribe continued in a hostile country.
Throwing off, therefore, the appearance of consultation, he assumed the grave
air of authority necessary to support the dignity of his office.
Runners were despatched for intelligence in different directions; spies were
ordered to approach and feel the encampment of the Delawares; the warriors were
dismissed to their lodges, with an intimation that their services would soon be
needed; and the women and children were ordered to retire, with a warning that
it was their province to be silent. When these several arrangements were made,
Magua passed through the village, stopping here and there to pay a visit where
he thought his presence might be flattering to the individual. He confirmed his
friends in their confidence, fixed the wavering, and gratified all. Then he
sought his own lodge. The wife the Huron chief had abandoned, when he was
chased from among his people, was dead. Children he had none; and he now
occupied a hut, without companion of any sort. It was, in fact, the dilapidated
and solitary structure in which David had been discovered, and whom he had
tolerated in his presence, on those few occasions when they met, with the
contemptuous indifference of a haughty superiority.
Hither, then, Magua retired, when his labors of policy were ended. While others
slept, however, he neither knew or sought repose. Had there been one
sufficiently curious to have watched the movements of the newly elected chief,
he would have seen him seated in a corner of his lodge, musing on the subject
of his future plans, from the hour of his retirement to the time he had
appointed for the warriors to assemble again. Occasionally the air breathed
through the crevices of the hut, and the low flame that fluttered about the
embers of the fire threw their wavering light on the person of the sullen
recluse. At such moments it would not have been difficult to have fancied the
dusky savage the Prince of Darkness brooding on his own fancied wrongs, and
plotting evil.
Long before the day dawned, however, warrior after warrior entered the solitary
hut of Magua, until they had collected to the number of twenty. Each bore his
rifle, and all the other accouterments of war, though the paint was uniformly
peaceful. The entrance of these fierce-looking beings was unnoticed: some
seating themselves in the shadows of the place, and others standing like
motionless statues, until the whole of the designated band was collected.
Then Magua arose and gave the signal to proceed, marching himself in advance.
They followed their leader singly, and in that well-known order which has
obtained the distinguishing appellation of “Indian file.” Unlike
other men engaged in the spirit-stirring business of war, they stole from their
camp unostentatiously and unobserved resembling a band of gliding specters,
more than warriors seeking the bubble reputation by deeds of desperate daring.
Instead of taking the path which led directly toward the camp of the Delawares,
Magua led his party for some distance down the windings of the stream, and
along the little artificial lake of the beavers. The day began to dawn as they
entered the clearing which had been formed by those sagacious and industrious
animals. Though Magua, who had resumed his ancient garb, bore the outline of a
fox on the dressed skin which formed his robe, there was one chief of his party
who carried the beaver as his peculiar symbol, or “totem.” There
would have been a species of profanity in the omission, had this man passed so
powerful a community of his fancied kindred, without bestowing some evidence of
his regard. Accordingly, he paused, and spoke in words as kind and friendly as
if he were addressing more intelligent beings. He called the animals his
cousins, and reminded them that his protecting influence was the reason they
remained unharmed, while many avaricious traders were prompting the Indians to
take their lives. He promised a continuance of his favors, and admonished them
to be grateful. After which, he spoke of the expedition in which he was himself
engaged, and intimated, though with sufficient delicacy and circumlocution, the
expediency of bestowing on their relative a portion of that wisdom for which
they were so renowned.[1]
[1]
These harangues of the beasts were frequent among the Indians. They often
address their victims in this way, reproaching them for cowardice or commending
their resolution, as they may happen to exhibit fortitude or the reverse, in
suffering.
During the utterance of this extraordinary address, the companions of the
speaker were as grave and as attentive to his language as though they were all
equally impressed with its propriety. Once or twice black objects were seen
rising to the surface of the water, and the Huron expressed pleasure,
conceiving that his words were not bestowed in vain. Just as he ended his
address, the head of a large beaver was thrust from the door of a lodge, whose
earthen walls had been much injured, and which the party had believed, from its
situation, to be uninhabited. Such an extraordinary sign of confidence was
received by the orator as a highly favorable omen; and though the animal
retreated a little precipitately, he was lavish of his thanks and
commendations.
When Magua thought sufficient time had been lost in gratifying the family
affection of the warrior, he again made the signal to proceed. As the Indians
moved away in a body, and with a step that would have been inaudible to the
ears of any common man, the same venerable-looking beaver once more ventured
his head from its cover. Had any of the Hurons turned to look behind them, they
would have seen the animal watching their movements with an interest and
sagacity that might easily have been mistaken for reason. Indeed, so very
distinct and intelligible were the devices of the quadruped, that even the most
experienced observer would have been at a loss to account for its actions,
until the moment when the party entered the forest, when the whole would have
been explained, by seeing the entire animal issue from the lodge, uncasing, by
the act, the grave features of Chingachgook from his mask of fur.