CHAPTER X.

"I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn

As much as we this night have overwatched!"

_Midsummer Night's Dream._

The instant the shock of this sudden misfortune had abated, Duncan began

to make his observations on the appearance and proceedings of their

captors. Contrary to the usages of the natives in the wantonness of

their success, they had respected, not only the persons of the trembling

sisters, but his own. The rich ornaments of his military attire had

indeed been repeatedly handled by different individuals of the tribe

with eyes expressing a savage longing to possess the baubles; but before

the customary violence could be resorted to, a mandate in the

authoritative voice of the large warrior already mentioned, stayed the

uplifted hand, and convinced Heyward that they were to be reserved for

some object of particular moment.

While, however, these manifestations of weakness were exhibited by the

young and vain of the party, the more experienced warriors continued

their search throughout both caverns, with an activity that denoted they

were far from being satisfied with those fruits of their conquest which

had already been brought to light. Unable to discover any new victim,

these diligent workers of vengeance soon approached their male

prisoners, pronouncing the name of "La Longue Carabine," with a

fierceness that could not easily be mistaken. Duncan affected not to

comprehend the meaning of their repeated and violent interrogatories,

while his companion was spared the effort of a similar deception by his

ignorance of French. Wearied, at length, by their importunities, and

apprehensive of irritating his captors by too stubborn a silence, the

former looked about him in quest of Magua; who might interpret his

answers to questions which were at each moment becoming more earnest and

threatening.

The conduct of this savage had formed a solitary exception to that of

all his fellows. While the others were busily occupied in seeking to

gratify their childish passion for finery, by plundering even the

miserable effects of the scout, or had been searching, with such

bloodthirsty vengeance in their looks, for their absent owner, Le Renard

had stood at a little distance from the prisoners, with a demeanor so

quiet and satisfied, as to betray that he had already effected the grand

purpose of this treachery. When the eyes of Heyward first met those of

his recent guide, he turned them away in horror at the sinister though

calm look he encountered. Conquering his disgust, however, he was able,

with an averted face, to address his successful enemy.

"Le Renard Subtil is too much of a warrior," said the reluctant Heyward,

"to refuse telling an unarmed man what his conquerors say."

"They ask for the hunter who knows the paths through the woods,"

returned Magua, in his broken English, laying his hand, at the same

time, with a ferocious smile, on the bundle of leaves with which a wound

on his own shoulder was bandaged. "La Longue Carabine! his rifle is

good, and his eye never shut; but, like the short gun of the white

chief, it is nothing against the life of Le Subtil!"

"Le Renard is too brave to remember the hurts received in war, or the

hands that gave them!"

"Was it war, when the tired Indian rested at the sugar-tree to taste his

corn! who filled the bushes with creeping enemies! who drew the knife!

whose tongue was peace, while his heart was colored with blood! Did

Magua say that the hatchet was out of the ground, and that his hand had

dug it up?"

As Duncan dared not retort upon his accuser by reminding him of his own

premeditated treachery, and disdained to deprecate his resentment by any

words of apology, he remained silent. Magua seemed also content to rest

the controversy as well as all further communication there, for he

resumed the leaning attitude against the rock, from which, in momentary

energy, he had arisen. But the cry of "La Longue Carabine" was renewed

the instant the impatient savages perceived that the short dialogue was

ended.

"You hear," said Magua, with stubborn indifference; "the red Hurons call

for the life of 'The Long Rifle,' or they will have the blood of them

that keep him hid!"

"He is gone--escaped; he is far beyond their reach."

Renard smiled with cold contempt, as he answered,--

"When the white man dies, he thinks he is at peace; but the redmen know

how to torture even the ghosts of their enemies. Where is his body? Let

the Hurons see his scalp!"

"He is not dead, but escaped."

Magua shook his head incredulously.

"Is he a bird, to spread his wings; or is he a fish, to swim without

air! The white chief reads in his books, and he believes the Hurons are

fools!"

"Though no fish, The Long Rifle can swim. He floated down the stream

when the powder was all burnt, and when the eyes of the Hurons were

behind a cloud."

"And why did the white chief stay?" demanded the still incredulous

Indian. "Is he a stone that goes to the bottom, or does the scalp burn

his head?"

"That I am not a stone, your dead comrade, who fell into the falls,

might answer, were the life still in him," said the provoked young man,

using, in his anger, that boastful language which was most likely to

excite the admiration of an Indian. "The white man thinks none but

cowards desert their women."

Magua muttered a few words, inaudibly, between his teeth, before he

continued, aloud,--

"Can the Delawares swim, too, as well as crawl in the bushes? Where is

Le Gros Serpent?"

Duncan, who perceived by the use of these Canadian appellations, that

his late companions were much better known to his enemies than to

himself, answered, reluctantly, "He also is gone down with the water."

"Le Cerf Agile is not here?"

"I know not whom you call 'The Nimble Deer,'" said Duncan, gladly

profiting by any excuse to create delay.

"Uncas," returned Magua, pronouncing the Delaware name with even greater

difficulty than he spoke his English words. "'Bounding Elk' is what the

white man says, when he calls to the young Mohican."

"Here is some confusion in names between us, Le Renard," said Duncan,

hoping to provoke a discussion. "_Daim_ is the French for deer, and

_cerf_ for stag; _elan_ is the true term, when one would speak of an

elk."

"Yes," muttered the Indian, in his native tongue; "the pale-faces are

prattling women! they have two words for each thing, while a redskin

will make the sound of his voice speak for him." Then changing his

language, he continued, adhering to the imperfect nomenclature of his

provincial instructors, "The deer is swift, but weak; the elk is swift,

but strong; and the son of Le Serpent is Le Cerf Agile. Has he leaped

the river to the woods?"

"If you mean the younger Delaware, he too is gone down with the water."

As there was nothing improbable to an Indian in the manner of the

escape, Magua admitted the truth of what he had heard, with a readiness

that afforded additional evidence how little he would prize such

worthless captives. With his companions, however, the feeling was

manifestly different.

The Hurons had awaited the result of this short dialogue with

characteristic patience, and with a silence that increased until there

was a general stillness in the band. When Heyward ceased to speak, they

turned their eyes, as one man, on Magua, demanding, in this expressive

manner, an explanation of what had been said. Their interpreter pointed

to the river, and made them acquainted with the result, as much by the

action as by the few words he uttered. When the fact was generally

understood, the savages raised a frightful yell, which declared the

extent of their disappointment. Some ran furiously to the water's edge,

beating the air with frantic gestures, while others spat upon the

element, to resent the supposed treason it had committed against their

acknowledged rights as conquerors. A few, and they not the least

powerful and terrific of the band, threw lowering looks, in which the

fiercest passion was only tempered by habitual self-command, at those

captives who still remained in their power; while one or two even gave

vent to their malignant feelings by the most menacing gestures, against

which neither the sex nor the beauty of the sisters was any protection.

The young soldier made a desperate, but fruitless effort, to spring to

the side of Alice, when he saw the dark hand of a savage twisted in the

rich tresses which were flowing in volumes over her shoulders, while a

knife was passed around the head from which they fell, as if to denote

the horrid manner in which it was about to be robbed of its beautiful

ornament. But his hands were bound; and at the first movement he made,

he felt the grasp of the powerful Indian who directed the band, pressing

his shoulder like a vise. Immediately conscious how unavailing any

struggle against such an overwhelming force must prove, he submitted to

his fate, encouraging his gentle companions by a few low and tender

assurances that the natives seldom failed to threaten more than they

performed.

But, while Duncan resorted to these words of consolation to quiet the

apprehensions of the sisters, he was not so weak as to deceive himself.

He well knew that the authority of an Indian chief was so little

conventional, that it was oftener maintained by physical superiority

than by any moral supremacy he might possess. The danger was, therefore,

magnified exactly in proportion to the number of the savage spirits by

which they were surrounded. The most positive mandate from him who

seemed the acknowledged leader, was liable to be violated at each

moment, by any rash hand that might choose to sacrifice a victim to the

_manes_ of some dead friend or relative. While, therefore, he sustained

an outward appearance of calmness and fortitude, his heart leaped into

his throat, whenever any of their fierce captors drew nearer than common

to the helpless sisters, or fastened one of their sullen wandering looks

on those fragile forms which were so little able to resist the slightest

assault.

His apprehensions were, however, greatly relieved, when he saw that the

leader had summoned his warriors to himself in council. Their

deliberations were short, and it would seem, by the silence of most of

the party, the decision unanimous. By the frequency with which the few

speakers pointed in the direction of the encampment of Webb, it was

apparent they dreaded the approach of danger from that quarter. This

consideration probably hastened their determination, and quickened the

subsequent movements.

During this short conference, Heyward, finding a respite from his

greatest fears, had leisure to admire the cautious manner in which the

Hurons had made their approaches, even after hostilities had ceased.

It has already been stated, that the upper half of the island was a

naked rock, and destitute of any other defences than a few scattered

logs of drift-wood. They had selected this point to make their descent,

having borne the canoe through the wood around the cataract for that

purpose. Placing their arms in the little vessel, a dozen men clinging

to its sides had trusted themselves to the direction of the canoe, which

was controlled by two of the most skilful warriors, in attitudes that

enabled them to command a view of the dangerous passage. Favored by this

arrangement, they touched the head of the island at that point which had

proved so fatal to their first adventures, but with the advantages of

superior numbers, and the possession of fire-arms. That such had been

the manner of their descent was rendered quite apparent to Duncan; for

they now bore the light bark from the upper end of the rock, and placed

it in the water, near the mouth of the outer cavern. As soon as this

change was made, the leader made signs to the prisoners to descend and

enter.

As resistance was impossible, and remonstrance useless, Heyward set the

example of submission, by leading the way into the canoe, where he was

soon seated with the sisters, and the still wondering David.

Notwithstanding the Hurons were necessarily ignorant of the little

channels among the eddies and rapids of the stream, they knew the common

signs of such a navigation too well to commit any material blunder. When

the pilot chosen for the task of guiding the canoe had taken his

station, the whole band plunged again into the river, the vessel glided

down the current, and in a few moments the captives found themselves on

the south bank of the stream, nearly opposite to the point where they

had struck it the preceding evening.

Here was held another short but earnest consultation, during which the

horses, to whose panic their owners ascribed their heaviest misfortune,

were led from the cover of the woods, and brought to the sheltered spot.

The band now divided. The great chief so often mentioned, mounting the

charger of Heyward, led the way directly across the river, followed by

most of his people, and disappeared in the woods, leaving the prisoners

in charge of six savages, at whose head was Le Renard Subtil. Duncan

witnessed all their movements with renewed uneasiness.

He had been fond of believing, from the uncommon forbearance of the

savages, that he was reserved as a prisoner to be delivered to Montcalm.

As the thoughts of those who are in misery seldom slumber, and the

invention is never more lively than when it is stimulated by hope,

however feeble and remote, he had even imagined that the parental

feelings of Munro were to be made instrumental in seducing him from his

duty to the king. For though the French commander bore a high character

for courage and enterprise, he was also thought to be expert in those

political practices, which do not always respect the nicer obligations

of morality, and which so generally disgraced the European diplomacy of

that period.

All those busy and ingenious speculations were now annihilated by the

conduct of his captors. That portion of the band who had followed the

huge warrior took the route towards the foot of the Horican, and no

other expectation was left for himself and companions, than that they

were to be retained as hopeless captives by their savage conquerors.

Anxious to know the worst, and willing, in such an emergency, to try the

potency of gold, he overcame his reluctance to speak to Magua.

Addressing himself to his former guide, who had now assumed the

authority and manner of one who was to direct the future movements of

the party, he said, in tones as friendly and confiding as he could

assume,--

"I would speak to Magua, what is fit only for so great a chief to hear."

The Indian turned his eyes on the young soldier scornfully, as he

answered,--

"Speak; trees have no ears!"

"But the red Hurons are not deaf; and counsel that is fit for the great

men of a nation would make the young warriors drunk. If Magua will not

listen, the officer of the king knows how to be silent."

The savage spoke carelessly to his comrades, who were busied, after

their awkward manner, in preparing the horses for the reception of the

sisters, and moved a little to one side, whither, by a cautious gesture,

he induced Heyward to follow.

"Now speak," he said; "if the words are such as Magua should hear."

"Le Renard Subtil has proved himself worthy of the honorable name given

to him by his Canada fathers," commenced Heyward; "I see his wisdom, and

all that he has done for us, and shall remember it, when the hour to

reward him arrives. Yes! Renard has proved that he is not only a great

chief in council, but one who knows how to deceive his enemies!"

"What has Renard done?" coldly demanded the Indian.

"What! has he not seen that the woods were filled with outlying parties

of the enemies, and that the Serpent could not steal through them

without being seen? Then, did he not lose his path to blind the eyes of

the Hurons? Did he not pretend to go back to his tribe, who had treated

him ill, and driven him from their wigwams like a dog? And, when we saw

what he wished to do, did we not aid him, by making a false face, that

the Hurons might think the white man believed that his friend was his

enemy? Is not all this true? And when Le Subtil had shut the eyes and

stopped the ears of his nation by his wisdom, did they not forget that

they had once done him wrong, and forced him to flee to the Mohawks? And

did they not leave him on the south side of the river, with their

prisoners, while they have gone foolishly on the north? Does not Renard

mean to turn like a fox on his footsteps, and to carry to the rich and

gray-headed Scotchman his daughters? Yes, Magua, I see it all, and I

have already been thinking how so much wisdom and honesty should be

repaid. First, the chief of William Henry will give as a great chief

should for such a service. The medal[16] of Magua will no longer be of

tin, but of beaten gold; his horn will run over with powder; dollars

will be as plenty in his pouch as pebbles on the shore of Horican; and

the deer will lick his hand, for they will know it to be vain to fly

from the rifle he will carry! As for myself, I know not how to exceed

the gratitude of the Scotchman, but I--yes, I will--"

"What will the young chief who comes from towards the sun, give?"

demanded the Huron, observing that Heyward hesitated in his desire to

end the enumeration of benefits with that which might form the climax of

an Indian's wishes.

"He will make the fire-water from the Islands in the salt lake flow

before the wigwam of Magua, until the heart of the Indian shall be

lighter than the feathers of the humming-bird, and his breath sweeter

than the wild honeysuckle."

Le Renard had listened gravely as Heyward slowly proceeded in his subtle

speech. When the young man mentioned the artifice he supposed the Indian

to have practised on his own nation, the countenance of the listener was

veiled in an expression of cautious gravity. At the allusion to the

injury which Duncan affected to believe had driven the Huron from his

native tribe, a gleam of such ungovernable ferocity flashed from the

other's eyes, as induced the adventurous speaker to believe he had

struck the proper chord. And by the time he reached the part where he so

artfully blended the thirst of vengeance with the desire of gain, he

had, at least, obtained a command of the deepest attention of the

savage. The question put by Le Renard had been calm, and with all the

dignity of an Indian; but it was quite apparent, by the thoughtful

expression of the listener's countenance, that the answer was most

cunningly devised. The Huron mused a few moments, and then laying his

hand on the rude bandages of his wounded shoulder, he said, with some

energy,--

"Do friends make such remarks?"

"Would La Longue Carabine cut one so light on an enemy?"

"Do the Delawares crawl upon those they love, like snakes, twisting

themselves to strike?"

"Would Le Gros Serpent have been heard by the ears of one he wished to

be deaf?"

"Does the white chief burn his powder in the faces of his brothers?"

"Does he ever miss his aim, when seriously bent to kill?" returned

Duncan, smiling with well acted sincerity.

Another long and deliberate pause succeeded these sententious questions

and ready replies. Duncan saw that the Indian hesitated. In order to

complete his victory, he was in the act of recommencing the enumeration

of the rewards, when Magua made an expressive gesture and said--

"Enough; Le Renard is a wise chief, and what he does will be seen. Go,

and keep the mouth shut. When Magua speaks, it will be the time to

answer."

Heyward, perceiving that the eyes of his companion were warily fastened

on the rest of the band, fell back immediately, in order to avoid the

appearance of any suspicious confederacy with their leader. Magua

approached the horses, and affected to be well pleased with the

diligence and ingenuity of his comrades. He then signed to Heyward to

assist the sisters into the saddles, for he seldom deigned to use the

English tongue, unless urged by some motive of more than usual moment.

There was no longer any plausible pretext for delay; and Duncan was

obliged, however reluctantly, to comply. As he performed this office, he

whispered his reviving hopes in the ears of the trembling females, who,

through dread of encountering the savage countenances of their captors,

seldom raised their eyes from the ground. The mare of David had been

taken with the followers of the large chief; in consequence, its owner,

as well as Duncan, was compelled to journey on foot. The latter did not,

however, so much regret this circumstance, as it might enable him to

retard the speed of the party; for he still turned his longing looks in

the direction of Fort Edward, in the vain expectation of catching some

sound from that quarter of the forest, which might denote the approach

of succor.

When all were prepared, Magua made the signal to proceed, advancing in

front to lead the party in person. Next followed David, who was

gradually coming to a true sense of his condition, as the effects of the

wound became less and less apparent. The sisters rode in his rear, with

Heyward at their side, while the Indians flanked the party, and brought

up the close of the march, with a caution that seemed never to tire.

In this manner they proceeded in uninterrupted silence, except when

Heyward addressed some solitary word of comfort to the females, or David

gave vent to the moanings of his spirit in piteous exclamations, which

he intended should express the humility of resignation. Their direction

lay towards the south, and in a course nearly opposite to the road to

William Henry. Notwithstanding this apparent adherence in Magua to the

original determination of his conquerors, Heyward could not believe his

tempting bait was so soon forgotten; and he knew the windings of an

Indian path too well, to suppose that its apparent course led directly

to its object, when artifice was at all necessary. Mile after mile was,

however, passed through the boundless woods, in this painful manner,

without any prospect of a termination to their journey. Heyward watched

the sun, as he darted his meridian rays through the branches of the

trees, and pined for the moment when the policy of Magua should change

their route to one more favorable to his hopes. Sometimes he fancied the

wary savage, despairing of passing the arm of Montcalm in safety, was

holding his way towards a well-known border settlement, where a

distinguished officer of the crown, and a favored friend of the Six

Nations, held his large possessions, as well as his usual residence. To

be delivered into the hands of Sir William Johnson was far preferable to

being led into the wilds of Canada; but in order to effect even the

former, it would be necessary to traverse the forest for many weary

leagues, each step of which was carrying him farther from the scene of

the war, and, consequently, from the post, not only of honor, but of

duty.

Cora alone remembered the parting injunctions of the scout, and whenever

an opportunity offered, she stretched forth her arm to bend aside the

twigs that met her hands. But the vigilance of the Indians rendered this

act of precaution both difficult and dangerous. She was often defeated

in her purpose, by encountering their watchful eyes, when it became

necessary to feign an alarm she did not feel, and occupy the limb by

some gesture of feminine apprehension. Once, and once only, was she

completely successful; when she broke down the bough of a large sumach,

and, by a sudden thought, let her glove fall at the same instant. This

sign, intended for those that might follow, was observed by one of her

conductors, who restored the glove, broke the remaining branches of the

bush in such a manner that it appeared to proceed from the struggling of

some beast in its branches, and then laid his hand on his tomahawk, with

a look so significant, that it put an effectual end to these stolen

memorials of their passage.

As there were horses, to leave the prints of their footsteps, in both

bands of the Indians, this interruption cut off any probable hopes of

assistance being conveyed through the means of their trail.

Heyward would have ventured a remonstrance, had there been anything

encouraging in the gloomy reserve of Magua. But the savage, during all

this time, seldom turned to look at his followers, and never spoke. With

the sun for his only guide, or aided by such blind marks as are only

known to the sagacity of a native, he held his way along the barrens of

pine, through occasional little fertile vales, across brooks and

rivulets, and over undulating hills, with the accuracy of instinct, and

nearly with the directness of a bird. He never seemed to hesitate.

Whether the path was hardly distinguishable, whether it disappeared, or

whether it lay beaten and plain before him, made no sensible difference

in his speed or certainty. It seemed as if fatigue could not affect him.

Whenever the eyes of the wearied travellers rose from the decayed leaves

over which they trod, his dark form was to be seen glancing among the

stems of the trees in front, his head immovably fastened in a forward

position, with the light plume on his crest fluttering in a current of

air, made solely by the swiftness of his own motion.

But all this diligence and speed were not without an object. After

crossing a low vale, through which a gushing brook meandered, he

suddenly ascended a hill, so steep and difficult of ascent, that the

sisters were compelled to alight, in order to follow. When the summit

was gained, they found themselves on a level spot, but thinly covered

with trees, under one of which Magua had thrown his dark form, as if

willing and ready to seek that rest which was so much needed by the

whole party.

The Last of the Mohicans: A Narrative of 1757 · 第 10 / 33 章