CHAPTER I

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Transcriber's Note

The punctuation and spelling from the original text have been faithfully

preserved. Only obvious typographical errors have been corrected.

_The_ LAST _of the_ MOHICANS

A NARRATIVE OF 1757

[Illustration]

_by_ JAMES FENIMORE COOPER

_Illustrated by_ N.C. Wyeth

"_Mislike me not for my complexion,

The shadowed livery of the burnished sun._"

NEW YORK

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

1933

_Copyright, 1919, by Charles Scribner's Sons_

ILLUSTRATIONS

FACING PAGE

UNCAS SLAYS A DEER 26

Avoiding the horns of the infuriated animal, Uncas darted to

his side, and passed his knife across the throat

THE BATTLE AT GLENS FALLS 66

Each of the combatants threw all his energies into that effort,

and the result was, that both tottered on the brink of the

precipice

THE FIGHT IN THE FOREST 114

The battle was now entirely terminated, with the exception

of the protracted struggle between Le Renard Subtil and Le

Gros Serpent

THE MEETING OF THE GENERALS 166

As soon as this slight salutation had passed, Montcalm moved

towards them with a quick but graceful step, baring his head

to the veteran, and dropping his spotless plume nearly to the

earth in courtesy

THE FLIGHT ACROSS THE LAKE 214

The scout having ascertained that the Mohicans were

sufficient of themselves to maintain the requisite distance,

deliberately laid aside his paddle, and raised the fatal rifle

THE TERMAGANT 250

Throwing back her light vestment, she stretched forth her

long skinny arm, in derision

THE MASQUERADER 268

The grim head fell on one side, and in its place appeared the

honest, sturdy countenance of the scout

THE LOVERS 278

Heyward and Alice took their way together towards the

distant village of the Delawares

THE SUPPLICANT 320

Cora had cast herself to her knees; and, with hands clenched

in each other and pressed upon her bosom, she remained like a

beauteous and breathing model of her sex

THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS

THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS

CHAPTER I

"Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared:

The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold:

Say, is my kingdom lost?"

SHAKESPEARE.

It was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America, that

the toils and dangers of the wilderness were to be encountered before

the adverse hosts could meet. A wide and apparently an impervious

boundary of forests severed the possessions of the hostile provinces of

France and England. The hardy colonist, and the trained European who

fought at his side, frequently expended months in struggling against the

rapids of the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of the

mountains, in quest of an opportunity to exhibit their courage in a more

martial conflict. But, emulating the patience and self-denial of the

practised native warriors, they learned to overcome every difficulty;

and it would seem that, in time, there was no recess of the woods so

dark, nor any secret place so lovely, that it might claim exemption from

the inroads of those who had pledged their blood to satiate their

vengeance, or to uphold the cold and selfish policy of the distant

monarchs of Europe.

Perhaps no district throughout the wide extent of the intermediate

frontiers can furnish a livelier picture of the cruelty and fierceness

of the savage warfare of those periods than the country which lies

between the head waters of the Hudson and the adjacent lakes.

The facilities which nature had there offered to the march of the

combatants were too obvious to be neglected. The lengthened sheet of the

Champlain stretched from the frontiers of Canada, deep within the

borders of the neighboring province of New York, forming a natural

passage across half the distance that the French were compelled to

master in order to strike their enemies. Near its southern termination,

it received the contributions of another lake, whose waters were so

limpid as to have been exclusively selected by the Jesuit missionaries

to perform the typical purification of baptism, and to obtain for it the

title of lake "du Saint Sacrement." The less zealous English thought

they conferred a sufficient honor on its unsullied fountains, when they

bestowed the name of their reigning prince, the second of the house of

Hanover. The two united to rob the untutored possessors of its wooded

scenery of their native right to perpetuate its original appellation of

"Horican."[1]

Winding its way among countless islands, and imbedded in mountains, the

"holy lake" extended a dozen leagues still farther to the south. With

the high plain that there interposed itself to the further passage of

the water, commenced a portage of as many miles, which conducted the

adventurer to the banks of the Hudson, at a point where, with the usual

obstructions of the rapids, or rifts, as they were then termed in the

language of the country, the river became navigable to the tide.

While, in the pursuit of their daring plans of annoyance, the restless

enterprise of the French even attempted the distant and difficult gorges

of the Alleghany, it may easily be imagined that their proverbial

acuteness would not overlook the natural advantages of the district we

have just described. It became, emphatically, the bloody arena, in which

most of the battles for the mastery of the colonies were contested.

Forts were erected at the different points that commanded the facilities

of the route, and were taken and retaken, razed and rebuilt, as victory

alighted on the hostile banners. While the husbandman shrank back from

the dangerous passes, within the safer boundaries of the more ancient

settlements, armies larger than those that had often disposed of the

sceptres of the mother countries, were seen to bury themselves in these

forests, whence they rarely returned but in skeleton bands, that were

haggard with care, or dejected by defeat. Though the arts of peace were

unknown to this fatal region, its forests were alive with men; its

shades and glens rang with the sounds of martial music, and the echoes

of its mountains threw back the laugh, or repeated the wanton cry, of

many a gallant and reckless youth, as he hurried by them, in the

noontide of his spirits, to slumber in a long night of forgetfulness.

It was in this scene of strife and bloodshed that the incidents we shall

attempt to relate occurred, during the third year of the war which

England and France last waged for the possession of a country that

neither was destined to retain.

The imbecility of her military leaders abroad, and the fatal want of

energy in her councils at home, had lowered the character of Great

Britain from the proud elevation on which it had been placed, by the

talents and enterprise of her former warriors and statesmen. No longer

dreaded by her enemies, her servants were fast losing the confidence of

self-respect. In this mortifying abasement, the colonists, though

innocent of her imbecility, and too humble to be the agents of her

blunders, were but the natural participators.

They had recently seen a chosen army from that country, which,

reverencing as a mother, they had blindly believed invincible--an army

led by a chief who had been selected from a crowd of trained warriors,

for his rare military endowments, disgracefully routed by a handful of

French and Indians, and only saved from annihilation by the coolness and

spirit of a Virginian boy, whose riper fame has since diffused itself,

with the steady influence of moral truth, to the uttermost confines of

Christendom.[2] A wide frontier had been laid naked by this unexpected

disaster, and more substantial evils were preceded by a thousand

fanciful and imaginary dangers. The alarmed colonists believed that the

yells of the savages mingled with every fitful gust of wind that issued

from the interminable forests of the west. The terrific character of

their merciless enemies increased immeasurably the natural horrors of

warfare. Numberless recent massacres were still vivid in their

recollections; nor was there any ear in the provinces so deaf as not to

have drunk in with avidity the narrative of some fearful tale of

midnight murder, in which the natives of the forests were the principal

and barbarous actors. As the credulous and excited traveller related the

hazardous chances of the wilderness, the blood of the timid curdled

with terror, and mothers cast anxious glances even at those children

which slumbered within the security of the largest towns. In short, the

magnifying influence of fear began to set at naught the calculations of

reason, and to render those who should have remembered their manhood,

the slaves of the basest of passions. Even the most confident and the

stoutest hearts began to think the issue of the contest was becoming

doubtful; and that abject class was hourly increasing in numbers, who

thought they foresaw all the possessions of the English crown in America

subdued by their Christian foes, or laid waste by the inroads of their

relentless allies.

When, therefore, intelligence was received at the fort, which covered

the southern termination of the portage between the Hudson and the

lakes, that Montcalm had been seen moving up the Champlain, with an army

"numerous as the leaves on the trees," its truth was admitted with more

of the craven reluctance of fear than with the stern joy that a warrior

should feel, in finding an enemy within reach of his blow. The news had

been brought, towards the decline of a day in midsummer, by an Indian

runner, who also bore an urgent request from Munro, the commander of a

work on the shore of the "holy lake," for a speedy and powerful

reinforcement. It has already been mentioned that the distance between

these two posts was less than five leagues. The rude path, which

originally formed their line of communication, had been widened for the

passage of wagons; so that the distance which had been travelled by the

son of the forest in two hours, might easily be effected by a detachment

of troops, with their necessary baggage, between the rising and setting

of a summer sun. The loyal servants of the British crown had given to

one of these forest fastnesses the name of William Henry, and to the

other that of Fort Edward; calling each after a favorite prince of the

reigning family. The veteran Scotchman just named held the first, with a

regiment of regulars and a few provincials; a force really by far too

small to make head against the formidable power that Montcalm was

leading to the foot of his earthen mounds. At the latter, however, lay

General Webb, who commanded the armies of the king in the northern

provinces, with a body of more than five thousand men. By uniting the

several detachments of his command, this officer might have arrayed

nearly double that number of combatants against the enterprising

Frenchman, who had ventured so far from his reinforcements, with an army

but little superior in numbers.

But under the influence of their degraded fortunes, both officers and

men appeared better disposed to await the approach of their formidable

antagonists, within their works, than to resist the progress of their

march, by emulating the successful example of the French at Fort du

Quesne, and striking a blow on their advance.

After the first surprise of the intelligence had a little abated, a

rumor was spread through the entrenched camp, which stretched along the

margin of the Hudson, forming a chain of outworks to the body of the

fort itself, that a chosen detachment of fifteen hundred men was to

depart, with the dawn, for William Henry, the post at the northern

extremity of the portage. That which at first was only rumor, soon

became certainty, as orders passed from the quarters of the

commander-in-chief to the several corps he had selected for this

service, to prepare for their speedy departure. All doubt as to the

intention of Webb now vanished, and an hour or two of hurried footsteps

and anxious faces succeeded. The novice in the military art flew from

point to point, retarding his own preparations by the excess of his

violent and somewhat distempered zeal; while the more practised veteran

made his arrangements with a deliberation that scorned every appearance

of haste; though his sober lineaments and anxious eye sufficiently

betrayed that he had no very strong professional relish for the as yet

untried and dreaded warfare of the wilderness. At length the sun set in

a flood of glory, behind the distant western hills, and as darkness drew

its veil around the secluded spot the sounds of preparation diminished;

the last light finally disappeared from the log cabin of some officer;

the trees cast their deeper shadows over the mounds and the rippling

stream, and a silence soon pervaded the camp, as deep as that which

reigned in the vast forest by which it was environed.

According to the orders of the preceding night, the heavy sleep of the

army was broken by the rolling of the warning drums, whose rattling

echoes were heard issuing, on the damp morning air, out of every vista

of the woods, just as day began to draw the shaggy outlines of some tall

pines of the vicinity, on the opening brightness of a soft and cloudless

eastern sky. In an instant the whole camp was in motion; the meanest

soldier arousing from his lair to witness the departure of his

comrades, and to share in the excitement and incidents of the hour. The

simple array of the chosen band was soon completed. While the regular

and trained hirelings of the king marched with haughtiness to the right

of the line, the less pretending colonists took their humbler position

on its left, with a docility that long practice had rendered easy. The

scouts departed; strong guards preceded and followed the lumbering

vehicles that bore the baggage; and before the gray light of the morning

was mellowed by the rays of the sun, the main body of the combatants

wheeled into column, and left the encampment with a show of high

military bearing, that served to drown the slumbering apprehensions of

many a novice, who was now about to make his first essay in arms. While

in view of their admiring comrades, the same proud front and ordered

array was observed, until the notes of their fifes growing fainter in

distance, the forest at length appeared to swallow up the living mass

which had slowly entered its bosom.

The deepest sounds of the retiring and invisible column had ceased to be

borne on the breeze to the listeners, and the latest straggler had

already disappeared in pursuit; but there still remained the signs of

another departure, before a log cabin of unusual size and

accommodations, in front of which those sentinels paced their rounds,

who were known to guard the person of the English general. At this spot

were gathered some half dozen horses, caparisoned in a manner which

showed that two, at least, were destined to bear the persons of females,

of a rank that it was not usual to meet so far in the wilds of the

country. A third wore the trappings and arms of an officer of the staff;

while the rest, from the plainness of the housings, and the travelling

mails with which they were encumbered, were evidently fitted for the

reception of as many menials, who were, seemingly, already awaiting the

pleasure of those they served. At a respectful distance from this

unusual show were gathered divers groups of curious idlers; some

admiring the blood and bone of the high-mettled military charger, and

others gazing at the preparations, with dull wonder of vulgar curiosity.

There was one man, however, who, by his countenance and actions, formed

a marked exception to those who composed the latter class of spectators,

being neither idle, nor seemingly very ignorant.

The person of this individual was to the last degree ungainly, without

being in any particular manner deformed. He had all the bones and joints

of other men, without any of their proportions. Erect, his stature

surpassed that of his fellows; seated, he appeared reduced within the

ordinary limits of the race. The same contrariety in his members seemed

to exist throughout the whole man. His head was large; his shoulders

narrow; his arms long and dangling; while his hands were small, if not

delicate. His legs and thighs were thin, nearly to emaciation, but of

extraordinary length; and his knees would have been considered

tremendous, had they not been outdone by the broader foundations on

which this false superstructure of the blended human orders was so

profanely reared. The ill-assorted and injudicious attire of the

individual only served to render his awkwardness more conspicuous. A

sky-blue coat, with short and broad skirts and low cape, exposed a long

thin neck, and longer and thinner legs, to the worst animadversions of

the evil disposed. His nether garment was of yellow nankeen, closely

fitted to the shape, and tied at his bunches of knees by large knots of

white ribbon, a good deal sullied by use. Clouded cotton stockings, and

shoes, on one of the latter of which was a plated spur, completed the

costume of the lower extremity of this figure, no curve or angle of

which was concealed, but, on the other hand, studiously exhibited,

through the vanity or simplicity of its owner. From beneath the flap of

an enormous pocket of a soiled vest of embossed silk, heavily ornamented

with tarnished silver lace, projected an instrument, which, from being

seen in such martial company, might have been easily mistaken for some

mischievous and unknown implement of war. Small as it was, this uncommon

engine had excited the curiosity of most of the Europeans in the camp,

though several of the provincials were seen to handle it, not only

without fear, but with the utmost familiarity. A large, civil cocked

hat, like those worn by clergymen within the last thirty years,

surmounted the whole, furnishing dignity to a good-natured and somewhat

vacant countenance, that apparently needed such artificial aid, to

support the gravity of some high and extraordinary trust.

While the common herd stood aloof, in deference to the quarters of Webb,

the figure we have described stalked in the centre of the domestics,

freely expressing his censures or commendations on the merits of the

horses, as by chance they displeased or satisfied his judgment.

"This beast, I rather conclude, friend, is not of home raising, but is

from foreign lands, or perhaps from the little island itself over the

blue water?" he said, in a voice as remarkable for the softness and

sweetness of its tones, as was his person for its rare proportions: "I

may speak of these things, and be no braggart; for I have been down at

both havens; that which is situate at the mouth of Thames, and is named

after the capital of Old England, and that which is called 'Haven,' with

the addition of the word 'New'; and have seen the snows and brigantines

collecting their droves, like the gathering to the ark, being outward

bound to the Island of Jamaica, for the purpose of barter and traffic in

four-footed animals; but never before have I beheld a beast which

verified the true Scripture war-horse like this: 'He paweth in the

valley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed

men. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle

afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.' It would seem

that the stock of the horse of Israel has descended to our own time;

would it not, friend?"

Receiving no reply to this extraordinary appeal, which in truth, as it

was delivered with the vigor of full and sonorous tones, merited some

sort of notice, he who had thus sung forth the language of the Holy Book

turned to the silent figure to whom he had unwittingly addressed

himself, and found a new and more powerful subject of admiration in the

object that encountered his gaze. His eyes fell on the still, upright,

and rigid form of the "Indian runner," who had borne to the camp the

unwelcome tidings of the preceding evening. Although in a state of

perfect repose, and apparently disregarding, with characteristic

stoicism, the excitement and bustle around him, there was a sullen

fierceness mingled with the quiet of the savage, that was likely to

arrest the attention of much more experienced eyes than those which now

scanned him, in unconcealed amazement. The native bore both the tomahawk

and knife of his tribe; and yet his appearance was not altogether that

of a warrior. On the contrary, there was an air of neglect about his

person, like that which might have proceeded from great and recent

exertion, which he had not yet found leisure to repair. The colors of

the war-paint had blended in dark confusion about his fierce

countenance, and rendered his swarthy lineaments still more savage and

repulsive than if art had attempted an effect which had been thus

produced by chance. His eye, alone, which glistened like a fiery star

amid lowering clouds, was to be seen in its state of native wildness.

For a single instant, his searching and yet wary glance met the

wondering look of the other, and then changing its direction, partly in

cunning, and partly in disdain, it remained fixed, as if penetrating the

distant air.

It is impossible to say what unlooked-for remark this short and silent

communication, between two such singular men, might have elicited from

the white man, had not his active curiosity been again drawn to other

objects. A general movement among the domestics, and a low sound of

gentle voices, announced the approach of those whose presence alone was

wanted to enable the cavalcade to move. The simple admirer of the

war-horse instantly fell back to a low, gaunt, switch-tailed mare, that

was unconsciously gleaning the faded herbage of the camp nigh by; where,

leaning with one elbow on the blanket that concealed an apology for a

saddle, he became a spectator of the departure, while a foal was quietly

making its morning repast, on the opposite side of the same animal.

A young man, in the dress of an officer, conducted to their steeds two

females, who, as it was apparent by their dresses, were prepared to

encounter the fatigues of a journey in the woods. One, and she was the

most juvenile in her appearance, though both were young, permitted

glimpses of her dazzling complexion, fair golden hair, and bright blue

eyes, to be caught, as she artlessly suffered the morning air to blow

aside the green veil which descended low from her beaver. The flush

which still lingered above the pines in the western sky was not more

bright nor delicate than the bloom on her cheek; nor was the opening day

more cheering than the animated smile which she bestowed on the youth,

as he assisted her into the saddle. The other, who appeared to share

equally in the attentions of the young officer, concealed her charms

from the gaze of the soldiery, with a care that seemed better fitted to

the experience of four or five additional years. It could be seen,

however, that her person, though moulded with the same exquisite

proportions, of which none of the graces were lost by the travelling

dress she wore, was rather fuller and more mature than that of her

companion.

No sooner were these females seated, than their attendant sprang lightly

into the saddle of the war-horse, when the whole three bowed to Webb,

who, in courtesy, awaited their parting on the threshold of his cabin,

and turning their horses' heads, they proceeded at a slow amble,

followed by their train, towards the northern entrance of the

encampment. As they traversed that short distance, not a voice was

heard amongst them; but a slight exclamation proceeded from the younger

of the females, as the Indian runner glided by her, unexpectedly, and

led the way along the military road in her front. Though this sudden and

startling movement of the Indian produced no sound from the other, in

the surprise her veil also was allowed to open its folds, and betrayed

an indescribable look of pity, admiration, and horror, as her dark eye

followed the easy motions of the savage. The tresses of this lady were

shining and black, like the plumage of the raven. Her complexion was not

brown, but it rather appeared charged with the color of the rich blood,

that seemed ready to burst its bounds. And yet there was neither

coarseness nor want of shadowing in a countenance that was exquisitely

regular and dignified, and surpassingly beautiful. She smiled, as if in

pity at her own momentary forgetfulness, discovering by the act a row of

teeth that would have shamed the purest ivory; when, replacing the veil,

she bowed her face, and rode in silence, like one whose thoughts were

abstracted from the scene around her.

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