Tho astonished at first by the uproar, Heyward was soon enabled to
find its solution by the scene that followed. There yet lingered
sufficient light in the heavens to exhibit those bright openings among
the tree-tops where different paths left the clearing to enter the
depths of the wilderness. Beneath one of them, a line of warriors
issued from the woods and advanced slowly toward the dwellings. One in
front bore a short pole, on which, as it afterward appeared, were
suspended several human scalps. The startling sounds that Duncan had
heard were what the whites have not inappropriately called the
"death-hallo"; and each repetition of the cry was intended to announce
to the tribe the fate of an enemy. Thus far the knowledge of Heyward
assisted him in the explanation; and as he knew that the interruption
was caused by the unlooked-for return of a successful war-party, every
disagreeable sensation was quieted in inward congratulations for the
opportune relief and insignificance it conferred on himself.
[Footnote 64: From Chapter XXIII of "The Last of the Mohicans."]
When at the distance of a few hundred feet from the lodges, the newly
arrived warriors halted. The plaintive and terrific cry which was
intended to represent equally the wailings of the dead and the triumph
of the victors, had entirely ceased. One of their number now called
aloud, in words that were far from appalling, tho not more
intelligible to those for whose ears they were intended than their
expressive yells. It would be difficult to convey a suitable idea of
the savage ecstasy with which the news thus imparted was received. The
whole encampment in a moment became a scene of the most violent bustle
and commotion. The warriors drew their knives, and flourishing them,
they arranged themselves in two lines, forming a lane that extended
from the war-party to the lodges. The squaws seized clubs, axes, or
whatever weapons of offense first offered itself to their hands, and
rushed eagerly to act their part in the cruel game that was at hand.
Even the children would not be excluded; but boys, little able to
wield the instruments, tore the tomahawks from the belts of their
fathers, and stole into the ranks, apt imitators of the savage traits
exhibited by their parents.
Large piles of brush lay scattered about the clearing, and a wary and
aged squaw was occupied firing as many as might serve to light the
coming exhibition. As the flame arose, its power exceeded that of the
parting day, and assisted to render objects at the same time more
distinct and more hideous. The whole scene formed a striking picture,
whose frame was composed of the dark and tall border of pines. The
warriors just arrived were the most distant figures. A little in
advance stood two men, who were apparently selected from the rest as
the principal actors in what was to follow. The light was not strong
enough to render their features distinct, tho it was quite evident
that they were governed by very different emotions. While one stood
erect and firm, prepared to meet his fate like a hero, the other bowed
his head, as if palsied by terror or stricken with shame.
The high-spirited Duncan felt a powerful impulse of admiration and
pity toward the former, tho no opportunity could offer to exhibit his
generous emotions. He watched his slightest movement, however, with
eager eyes; and as he traced the fine outline of his admirably
proportioned and active frame, he endeavored to persuade himself that
if the powers of man, seconded by such noble resolution, could bear
one harmless through so severe a trial, the youthful captive before
him might hope for success in the hazardous race he was about to run.
Insensibly the young man drew nigher to the swarthy lines of the
Hurons, and scarcely breathed, so intense became his interest in the
spectacle. Just then the signal yell was given, and the momentary
quiet which had preceded it was broken by a burst of cries that far
exceeded any before heard. The most abject of the two victims
continued motionless; but the other bounded from the place at the cry,
with the activity and the swiftness of a deer. Instead of rushing
through the hostile lines as had been expected, he just entered the
dangerous defile, and before time was given for a single blow, turned
short, and leaping the heads of a row of children, he gained at once
the exterior and safer side of the formidable array. The artifice was
answered by a hundred voices raised in imprecations, and the whole of
the excited multitude broke from their order and spread themselves
about the place in wild confusion.
A dozen blazing piles now shed their lurid brightness on the place,
which resembled some unhallowed and supernatural arena in which
malicious demons had assembled to act their bloody and lawless rites.
The forms in the background looked like unearthly beings gliding
before the eye and cleaving the air with frantic and unmeaning
gestures; while the savage passions of such as passed the flames were
rendered fearfully distinct by the gleams that shot athwart their
inflamed visages.
It will easily be understood that amid such a concourse of vindictive
enemies no breathing-time was allowed the fugitive. There was a single
moment when it seemed as if he would have reached the forest; but the
whole body of his captors threw themselves before him, and drove him
back into the center of his relentless persecutors. Turning like a
headed deer, he shot with the swiftness of an arrow through a pillar
of forked flame, and passing the whole multitude harmless he appeared
on the opposite side of the clearing. Here, too, he was met and turned
by a few of the older and more subtle of the Hurons. Once more he
tried the throng, as if seeking safety in its blindness; and then
several moments succeeded, during which Duncan believed the active and
courageous young stranger was lost.
Nothing could be distinguished but a dark mass of human forms tossed
and involved in inexplicable confusion. Arms, gleaming knives, and
formidable clubs appeared, above them, but the blows were evidently
given at random. The awful effect was heightened by the piercing
shrieks of the women and the fierce yells of the warriors. Now and
then Duncan caught a glimpse of a light form cleaving the air in some
desperate bound, and he rather hoped than believed that the captive
yet retained the command of his astonishing powers of activity.
Suddenly the multitude rolled backward, and approached the spot where
he himself stood. The heavy body in the rear prest upon the women and
children in front, and bore them to the earth. The stranger reappeared
in the confusion. Human power could not, however, much longer endure
so severe a trial....
There was no term of abuse known to the Huron vocabulary that the
disappointed women did not lavishly expend on the successful stranger.
They flouted at his efforts, and told him with bitter scoffs that his
feet were better than his hands, and that he merited wings, while he
knew not the use of an arrow or a knife. To all this the captive made
no reply, but was content to preserve an attitude in which dignity was
singularly blended with disdain. Exasperated as much by his composure
as by his good fortune, their words became unintelligible, and were
succeeded by shrill piercing yells. Just then the crafty squaw who had
taken the necessary precautions to fire the piles made her way through
the throng, and cleared a place for herself in front of the captive.
The squalid and withered person of this hag might well have obtained
for her the character of possessing more than human cunning. Throwing
back her light vestment, she Stretched forth her long skinny arm in
derision, and using the language of the Lenape, as more intelligible
to the subject of her gibes, she commenced aloud:
"Look you, Delaware," she said, snapping her fingers in his face,
"your nation is a race of women, and the hoe is better fitted to your
hands than the gun. Your squaws are the mothers of deer; but if a bear
or a wild cat or a serpent were born among you, ye would flee. The
Huron girls shall make you petticoats, and we will find you a
husband."
A burst of savage laughter succeeded this attack, during which the
soft and musical merriment of the younger females strangely chimed
with the cracked voice of their older and more malignant companion.
But the stranger was superior to all their efforts. His head was
immovable, nor did he betray the slightest consciousness that any were
present, except when his haughty eyes rolled toward the dusky forms of
the warriors who stalked in the background, silent and sullen
observers of the scene.
Infuriated at the self-command of the captive, the woman placed her
arms akimbo, and throwing herself into a posture of defiance she broke
out anew, in a torrent of words that no art of ours could commit
successfully to paper. Her breath was, however, expended in vain; for,
altho distinguished in her nation as a proficient in the art of abuse,
she was permitted to work herself into such a fury as actually to foam
at the mouth, without causing a muscle to vibrate in the motionless
figure of the stranger. The effect of his indifference began to extend
itself to the other spectators, and a youngster who was just quitting
the condition of a boy to enter the state of manhood, attempted to
assist the termagant by flourishing his tomahawk before their victim
and adding his empty boasts to the taunts of the woman. Then, indeed,
the captive turned his face toward the light, and looked down on the
stripling with an expression that was superior to contempt. At the
next moment he resumed his quiet and reclining attitude against the
post. But the change of posture had permitted Duncan to exchange
glances with the firm and piercing eyes of Uncas.
Breathless with amazement, and heavily opprest with the critical
situation of his friend, Heyward recoiled before the look, trembling
lest its meaning might in some unknown manner hasten the prisoner's
fate. There was not, however, any instant cause for such an
apprehension. Just then a warrior forced his way into the exasperated
crowd. Motioning the women and children aside with a stern gesture, he
took Uncas by the arm and led him toward the door of the council
lodge. Thither all the chiefs and most of the distinguished warriors
followed, among whom the anxious Heyward found means to enter without
attracting any dangerous attention to himself.
A few minutes were consumed in disposing of those present in a manner
suitable to their rank and influence in the tribe. An order very
similar to that adopted in the preceding interview was observed, the
aged and superior chiefs occupying the area of the spacious apartment,
within the powerful light of a glaring torch, while their juniors and
inferiors were arranged in the background, presenting a dark outline
of swarthy and marked visages. In the very center of the lodge,
immediately under an opening that admitted the twinkling light of one
or two stars, stood Uncas, calm, elevated, and collected. His high and
haughty carriage was not lost on his captors, who often bent their
looks on his person with eyes which, while they lost none of their
inflexibility of purpose, plainly betrayed their admiration of the
stranger's daring.