University of Virginia Library

6. CHAPTER VI.

Heyward, and his female companions, witnessed
this mysterious movement with secret uneasiness;
for, though the conduct of the white man had hitherto
been above reproach, his rude equipments, blunt
address, and strong antipathies, together with the
character of his silent associates, were all causes for
exciting distrust in minds that had been so recently
alarmed by Indian treachery. The stranger alone
disregarded the passing incidents. He seated
himself on a projection of the rocks, whence he gave
no other signs of consciousness, than by the struggles
of his spirit, as manifested in frequent and heavy sighs.
Smothered voices were next heard, as though men
called to each other in the bowels of the earth, when
a sudden light flashed upon the vision of those without,
and laid bare the much prized secret of the place.

At the farther extremity of a narrow, deep, cavern
in the rock, whose length appeared much extended
by the perspective and the nature of the light by
which it was seen, was seated the scout, holding a

blazing knot of pine. The strong glare of the fire
fell full upon his sturdy, weather-beaten countenance
and forest attire, lending an air of romantic wildness
to the aspect of an individual, who, seen by the sober
light of day, would have exhibited the peculiarities
of a man remarkable for the strangeness of his
dress, the iron-like inflexibility of his frame, and the
singular compound of quick, vigilant sagacity, and of
exquisite simplicity, that by turns usurped the possession
of his muscular features. At a little distance in
advance stood Uncas, his whole person thrown powerfully
into view by its situation and proximity.
The travellers anxiously regarded the upright, flexible
figure of the young Mohican, graceful and unrestrained
in the attitudes and movements of nature. Though
his person was more than usually skreened by a green
and fringed hunting shirt, like that of the white man,
there was no concealment to his dark, glancing, fearless
eye, alike terrible and calm; the bold outline of
his high, haughty features, pure in their native red;
or to the dignified elevation of his receding forehead,
together with all the finest proportions of a noble
head, bared to the generous scalping tuft.* It was
the first opportunity possessed by Duncan and his
companions, to view the marked lineaments of either of
their Indian attendants, and each individual of the party
felt relieved from a burthen of doubt, as the proud and
determined, though wild, expression of the features of
the young warrior forced itself on their notice. They
felt it might be a being partially benighted in the vale
of ignorance, but it could not be one who would willingly
devote his rich natural gifts to the purposes of
wanton treachery. The ingenuous Alice gazed at his
free air and proud carriage, as she would have
looked upon some precious relic of the Grecian chisel,
to which life had been imparted, by the intervention
of a miracle; while Heyward, though accustomed
to see the perfection of form which abounds
among the uncorrupted natives, openly expressed his
admiration at such an unblemished specimen of the
noblest proportions of man.

“I could sleep in peace,” whispered Alice, in reply,
“with such a fearless and generous looking
youth for my sentinel. Surely, Duncan, those cruel
murders, those terrific scenes of torture, of which we
read and hear so much, are never acted in the presence
of such as he!”

“This, certainly, is a rare and brilliant instance of
those natural qualities, in which these peculiar people
are said to excel,” he answered. “I agree with
you, Alice, in thinking that such a front and eye were
formed rather to intimidate than to deceive; but let
us not practise a deception on ourselves, by expecting
any other exhibition of what we esteem virtue,
than according to the fashion of a savage. As bright
examples of great qualities are but too uncommon
among christians, so are they singular and solitary
with the Indians; though, for the honour of our common
nature, neither are incapable of producing them.
Let us then hope, that this Mohican may not disappoint

our wishes, and prove, what his looks assert
him to be, a brave and constant friend.”

“Now Major Heyward speaks, as Major Heyward
should,” murmured Cora; “who, that looks at this
creature of nature, remembers the shades of his
skin!”

A short, and apparently an embarrassed, silence
succeeded this characteristic remark, which was interrupted
by the scout calling to them aloud, to enter.

“This fire begins to show too bright a flame,” he
continued, as they complied, “and might light the
Mingoes to our undoing. Uncas, drop the blanket, and
show the knaves its dark side. This is not such a
supper as a major of the royal Americans has a right to
expect, but I've known stout detachments of the corps
glad to eat their venison raw, and without a relish too.
Here, you see, we have plenty of salt, and can make
a quick broil. There's fresh saxafrax boughs for the
ladies to sit on, which may not be as proud as their
my-hog-guinea chairs, but which sends up a sweeter
flavour than the skin of any hog can do, be it of Guinea,
or be it of any other land. Come, friend, dont
be mournful for the colt; 'twas an innocent thing, and
had not seen much hardship. Its death will save the
creatur many a sore back and weary foot!”

Uncas did as the other had directed, and when
the voice of Hawk-eye ceased, the roar of the cataract
sounded like the rumbling of distant thunder.

“Are we quite safe in this cavern?” demanded
Heyward. “Is there no danger of surprise? A single

armed man, at its entrance, would hold us at his
mercy.”

A spectral looking figure stalked from out the darkness
behind the scout, and seizing a blazing brand,
held it towards the further extremity of their place of
retreat. Alice uttered a faint shriek, and even Cora
rose to her feet, as this appalling object moved into
the light; but a single word from Heyward calmed
them, with the assurance it was only their attendant,
Chingachgook, who, lifting another blanket, discovered
that the cavern had two outlets. Then, holding the
brand, he crossed a deep, narrow chasm in the rocks,
which ran at right angles with the passage they were
in, but which, unlike that, was open to the heavens,
and entered another cave, answering to the description
of the first, in every essential particular.

“Such old foxes as Chingachgook and myself, are
not often caught in a burrow with one hole,” said
Hawk-eye, laughing; “you can easily see the cunning
of the place—the rock is black limestone, which
every body knows is soft; it makes no uncomfortable
pillow, where brush and pine wood is scarce; well,
the fall was once a few yards below us, and I dare
to say was, in its time, as regular and as handsome a
sheet of water as any along the Hudson. But old
age is a great injury to good looks, as these sweet
young ladies have yet to l'arn! The place is sadly
changed! These rocks are full of cracks, and in
some places, they are softer than at othersome, and
the water has worked out deep hollows for itself, until
it has fallen back, ay, some hundred feet, breaking

here, and wearing there, until the falls have neither
shape nor consistency.”

“In what part of them are we?” asked Heyward.

“Why, we are nigh by the spot that Providence
first placed them at, but where, it seems, they were
too rebellious to stay. The rock proved softer on
either side of us, and so they left the centre of the
river bare and dry, first working out these two little
holes for us to hide in.”

“We are then on an island?”

“Ay! there are the falls on two sides of us, and
the river above and below. If you had daylight, it
would be worth the trouble to step up on the height
of this rock, and look at the perversity of the water
It falls by no rule at all; sometimes it leaps, sometimes
it tumbles; there, it skips; here, it shoots; in one
place 'tis white as snow, and in another 'tis green as
grass; hereabouts, it pitches into deep hollows, that
rumble and quake the 'arth; and thereaway, it ripples
and sings like a brook, fashioning whirlpools and gullies
in the old stone, as if 'twas no harder than trodden
clay. The whole design of the river seems disconcerted.
First it runs smoothly, as if meaning to go down
the descent as things were ordered; then it angles
about and faces the shores; nor are there places
wanting, where it looks backward, as if unwilling to
leave the wilderness, to mingle with the salt! Ay,
lady, the fine cobweb-looking cloth you wear at your
throat, is coarse, and like a fish net, to little spots I
can show you, where the river fabricates all sorts of
images, as if, having broke loose from order, it would
try its hand at every thing. And yet what does it

amount to! After the water has been suffered to
have its will for a time, like a headstrong man, it is
gathered together by the hand that made it, and a few
rods below you may see it all, flowing on steadily towards
the sea, as was foreordained from the first
foundation of the 'arth!”

While his auditors received a cheering assurance
of the security of their place of concealment, from
this untutored description of Glenn's, they were much
inclined to judge differently from Hawk-eye, of its
wild beauties. But they were not in a situation to
suffer their thoughts to dwell on the charms of natural
objects; and, as the scout had not found it necessary
to cease his culinary labours while he spoke, unless
to point out, with a broken fork, the direction of
some particularly obnoxious point in the rebellious
stream, they now suffered their attention to be drawn
to the necessary though more vulgar consideration of
their supper.

The repast, which was greatly aided by the addition
of a few delicacies, that Heyward had the precaution
to bring with him, when they left their horses,
was exceedingly refreshing to the wearied party.
Uncas acted as attendant to the females, performing
all the little offices within his power, with a mixture
of dignity and anxious grace, that served to amuse
Heyward, who well knew that it was an utter innovation
on the Indian customs, which forbid their
warriors to descend to any menial employment, especially
in favour of their women. As the rites of
hospitality were, however, considered sacred among
them, this little departure from the dignity of manhood

excited no audible comment. Had there been
one there sufficiently disengaged to become a close
observer, he might have fancied that the services of
the young chief were not entirely impartial. That,
while he tendered to Alice the calabash of sweet
water, and the venison in a trencher, neatly carved
from the knot of the pepperage, with sufficient courtesy,
in performing the same offices to her sister,
his dark eye lingered on her rich, speaking, countenance,
with a softness that banished the bright gleams
of pride, that were usually glancing there, entirely
from their expression. Once or twice he was compelled
to speak, to command the attention of those
he served. In such cases, he made use of English,
broken and imperfect, but sufficiently intelligible, and
which he rendered so mild and musical, by his* deep,
guttural voice, that it never failed to cause both ladies
to look up in admiration and astonishment. In
the course of these civilities, a few sentences were
exchanged, that served to establish the appearance
of an amicable intercourse between the parties.

In the meanwhile, the gravity of Chingachgook remained
immovable. He had seated himself more
within the circle of light, where the frequent, uneasy
glances of his guests were better enabled to separate
the natural expression of his face, from the artificial
terrors of the war-paint. They found a strong resemblance
between father and son, with the difference
that might be expected from age and hardships.
The fierceness of his countenance now seemed to

slumber, and in its place was to be seen the quiet,
vacant composure, which distinguishes an Indian warrior,
when his faculties are not required for any of
the greater purposes of his existence. It was, however,
easy to be seen, by the occasional gleams that shot
across his swarthy visage, that it was only necessary
to arouse his passions in order to give full effect to
the terrific device which he had adopted to intimidate
his enemies. On the other hand, the quick, roving
eye of the scout seldom rested. He ate and
drank with an appetite that no sense of danger could
disturb, but his vigilance seemed never to desert him.
Twenty times the calabash or the venison was suspended
before his lips, while his head was turned
aside, as though he listened to some distant and distrusted
sounds—a movement that never failed to recall
his guests from regarding the novelties of their
situation, to a recollection of the alarming reasons
that had driven them to seek it. As these frequent
pauses were never followed by any remark, the momentary
uneasiness they created quickly passed away,
and was, for a time, forgotten.

“Come, friend,” said Hawk-eye, drawing out a
keg from beneath a cover of leaves, towards the close
of the repast, and addressing the stranger who sat at
his elbow, doing great justice to his culinary skill,
“try a little spruce; 'twill wash away all thoughts of
the colt, and quicken the life in your bosom. I drink
to our better friendship, hoping that a little horseflesh
may leave no heart-burnings atween us. How do
you name yourself?”

“Gamut—David Gamut,” returned the singing.

master, mechanically wiping his mouth, preparatory
to washing down his sorrows, in a powerful draught
of the woodman's high-flavoured and well-laced compound.

“A very good name,” returned the other, taking
breath after a draught, whose length announced how
much he admired his own skill in brewing, “and, I
dare say, handed down from honest forefathers. I'm
an admirator of names, though the Christian fashions
fall far below savage customs in this particular. The
biggest coward I ever knew was called Lyon; and his
wife, Patience, would scold you out of hearing in less
time than a hunted deer would run a rod. With an Indian
'tis a matter of conscience; what he calls himself,
he generally is—not that Chingachgook, which signifies
big sarpent, is really a snake, big or little; but that
he understands the windings and turnings of human
natur, and is silent, and strikes his enemies when
they least expect him. What may be your calling?”

“I am an unworthy instructor in the art of psalmody.”

“Anan!”

“I teach singing to the youths of the Connecticut
levy.”

“You might be better employed. The young
hounds go laughing and singing too much already
through the woods, when they ought not to breathe
louder than a fox in his cover. Can you use the
smooth bore, or handle the rifle?”

“Praised be God, I have never had occasion to
meddle with such murderous implements!”

“Perhaps you understand the compass, and lay
down the water courses and mountains of the wilderness

on paper, in order that they who follow may find
places by their given names?”

“I practise no such employment.”

“You have a pair of legs that might make a long
path seem short! you journey sometimes, I fancy,
with tidings for the general.”

“Never; I follow no other than my own high vocation,
which is instruction in sacred music!”

“ 'Tis a strange calling!” muttered Hawk-eye,
with an inward laugh, “to go through life, like a cat-bird,
mocking all the ups and downs that may happen
to come out of other men's throats. Well, friend, I
suppose it is your gift, and mustn't be denied any
more than if 'twas shooting, or some other better inclination.
Let us hear what you can do in that way;
'twill be a friendly manner of saying good night, for
'tis time these ladies should be getting strength for a
hard and a long push, in the pride of the morning,
afore the Maquas are stirring.”

“With joyful pleasure do I consent,” said David,
adjusting his iron-rimmed spectacles again, and producing
his beloved little volume, which he immediately
tendered to Alice. “What can be more fitting
and consolatory, than to offer up evening praise
after a day of such exceeding jeopardy!”

Alice smiled; but regarding Heyward, she blushed
and hesitated.

“Indulge yourself,” he whispered; “ought not
the suggestion of the worthy namesake of the Psalmist
to have its weight at such a moment?”

Encouraged by his opinion, Alice did what both
her pious inclinations and her keen relish for gentle

sounds, had before so strongly urged upon her. The
book was open at a hymn not ill adapted to their situation,
and in which the poet, no longer goaded by his desire
to excel the inspired King of Israel, had discovered
some chastened and respectable powers. Cora betrayed
a disposition to support her sister, and the sacred
song proceeded, after the indispensable preliminaries
of the pitch-pipe and the tune had been duly
attended to by the methodical David.

The air was solemn and slow. At times it rose to
the fullest compass of the rich voices of the sweet
maidens, who hung over their little book in holy excitement,
and again it sunk so low, that the rushing of
the waters ran through their melody like a hollow accompaniment.
The natural taste and true ear of
David, governed and modified the sounds to suit their
confined cavern, every crevice and cranny of which
was filled with the thrilling notes of their flexib
voices. The Indians riveted their eyes on the rocks,
and listened with an attention that seemed to turn them
into stone. But the scout, who had placed his chin
in his hand, with an expression of cold indifference,
gradually suffered his rigid features to relax, until, as
verse succeeded verse, he felt his iron nature subdued,
while his recollection was carried back to his
boyhood, when his ears had been accustomed to listen
to similar, though far less sweet, sounds of praise,
in the settlements of the colony. His roving eyes began
to moisten, and before the hymn was ended,
large, scalding tears rolled out of fountains that had long
seemed dry, and followed each other down those
cheeks that had oftener felt the storms of heaven,

than any testimonials of weakness. The singers
were dwelling on one of those low, dying chords, which
the ear devours with such greedy rapture, as if conscious
that it is about to lose them, when a cry, that
seemed neither human, nor earthly, rose in the outward
air, penetrating not only the recesses of the cavern,
but to the inmost hearts of all who heard it. It
was followed by a stillness apparently as deep as if
the waters had been checked in their furious progress
at such a horrid and unusual interruption?

“What is it?” murmured Alice, after a few moments
of terrible suspense.

“What is it?” repeated Heyward, aloud.

Neither Hawk-eye, nor the Indians, made any reply.
They listened, as if expecting the sound would
be repeated, with a manner that expressed their own
astonishment. At length, they spoke together, earnestly,
in the Delaware language, when Uncas, passing
by the inner and most concealed aperture, cautiously
left the cavern. When he had gone, the scout
first spoke in English.

“What it is, or what it is not, none here can tell;
though two of us have ranged the woods for more
than thirty years! I did believe there was no cry that
Indian or beast could make, that my ears had not
heard; but this has proved that I was only a vain
and conceited mortal.”

“Was it not, then, the shout the warriors make
when they wish to intimidate their enemies?” asked
Cora, who stood drawing her veil about her person,
with a calmness to which her agitated sister was a
stranger.

“No, no; this was bad, and shocking, and had a
sort of unhuman sound; but when you once hear the
war-whoop, you will never mistake it for any thing
else! Well, Uncas!” speaking in the Delaware to
the young chief as he re-entered, “what see you? do
our lights shine through the blankets?”

The answer was short, and apparently decided,
being given in the same tongue.

“There is nothing to be seen without,” continued
Hawk-eye, shaking his head in discontent; “and our
hiding-place is still in darkness! Pass into the other
cave, you that need it, and seek for sleep; we must
be afoot long before the sun, and make the most of
our time to get to Edward, while the Mingoes are
taking their morning nap.”

Cora set the example of compliance, with a steadiness
that taught the more timid Alice the necessity of
obedience. Before leaving the place, however, she
whispered a request to Duncan that he would follow.
Uncas raised the blanket for their passage, and as the
sisters turned to thank him for this act of attention,
they saw the scout seated again before the dying embers,
with his face resting on his hands, in a manner
which showed how deeply he brooded on the unaccountable
interruption, which had broken up their
evening devotions.

Heyward took with him a blazing knot, which
threw a dim light through the narrow vista of their new
apartment. Placing it in a favourable position, he
joined the females, who now found themselves alone
with him, for the first time since they had left the
friendly ramparts of fort Edward.

“Leave us not, Duncan,” said Alice; “we cannot
sleep in such a place as this, with that horrid cry still
ringing in our ears!”

“First let us examine into the security of your
fortress,” he answered, “and then we will speak of
rest.”

He approached the farther end of the cavern, to
an outlet, which, like the others, was concealed by
blankets, and removing the thick skreen, breathed
the fresh and reviving air from the cataract. One
arm of the river flowed through a deep, narrow
ravine, which its current had worn in the soft rock,
directly beneath his feet, forming an effectual defence,
as he believed, against any danger from that
quarter; the water, a few rods above them, plunging,
glancing, and sweeping along, in its most violent and
broken manner.

“Nature has made an impenetrable barrier on this
side,” he continued, pointing down the perpendicular
declivity into the dark current, before he dropped the
blanket; “and as you know that good men and true,
are on guard in front, I see no reason why the advice
of our honest host should be disregarded. I am certain
Cora will join me in saying, that sleep is necessary
to you both!”

“Cora may submit to the justice of your opinion,
though she cannot put it in practice,” returned the
elder sister, who had placed herself by the side of
Alice, on a couch of sassafras; “there would be other
causes to chase away sleep, though we had been spared
the shock of this mysterious noise. Ask yourself,
Heyward, can daughters forget the anxiety a father

must endure, whose children lodge, he knows not
where or how, in such a wilderness, and in the midst
of so many perils!”

“He is a soldier, and knows how to estimate the
chances of the woods.”

“He is a father, and cannot deny his nature.”

“How kind has he ever been to all my follies! how
tender and indulgent to all my wishes!” sobbed
Alice. “We have been selfish, sister, in urging our
visit at such hazard!”

“I may have been rash in pressing his consent in a
moment of so much embarrassment, but I would have
proved to him, that however others might neglect
him, in his strait, his children were faithful!”

“When he heard of your arrival at Edward,” said
Heyward, kindly, “there was a powerful struggle in his
bosom between fear and love; though the latter, heightened,
if possible, by so long a separation, quickly
prevailed. `It is the spirit of my noble minded Cora
that leads them, Duncan,' he said, `and I will not
balk it. Would to God, that he who holds the
honour of our royal master in his guardianship, would
show but half her firmness.' ”

“And did he not speak of me, Heyward?” demanded
Alice, with jealous affection. “Surely, he
forgot not altogether his little Elsie!”

“That were impossible, after having known her so
well,” returned the young man; “he called you by a
thousand endearing epithets, that I may not presume
to use, but to the justice of which I can warmly testify.
Once, indeed, he said—”

Duncan ceased speaking; for while his eyes were

rivetted on those of Alice, who had turned towards
him with the eagerness of filial affection, to catch his
words, the same strong, horrid cry, as before, filled
the air, and rendered him mute. A long, breathless
silence succeeded, during which, each looked at the
others in fearful expectation of hearing the sound repeated.
At length, the blanket was slowly raised, and
the scout stood in the aperture with a countenance
whose firmness evidently began to give way, before a
mystery that seemed to threaten some unknown danger,
against which all his cunning and experience
might prove of no avail.