University of Virginia Library

8. CHAPTER VIII.

The warning call of the scout was not uttered
without occasion. During the occurrence of the
deadly encounter just related, the roar of the falls was
unbroken by any human sound whatever. It would
seem, that interest in the result had kept the natives,
on the opposite shores, in breathless suspense, while
the quick evolutions and swift changes in the positions
of the combatants, effectually prevented a fire, that
might prove dangerous alike to friend and enemy. But
the moment the struggle was decided, a yell arose, as
fierce and savage as wild and revengeful passions
could throw into the air. It was followed by the
swift flashes of the rifles, which sent their leaden
messengers across the rock in vollies, as though the
assailants would pour out their impotent fury on the
insensible scene of the fatal contest.

A steady, though deliberate, return was made from
the rifle of Chingachgook, who had maintained his
post throughout the fray with unmoved resolution.
When the triumphant shout of Uncas was borne to his
ears, the gratified father had raised his voice in a single

responsive cry, after which his busy piece alone
proved that he still guarded his pass with unwearied
diligence. In this manner many minutes flew by with
the swiftness of thought; the rifles of the assailants
speaking, at times, in rattling vollies, and at others,
in occasional, scattering shots. Though the rock,
the trees, and the shrubs, were cut and torn in a hundred
places around the besieged, their cover was so
close, and so rigidly maintained, that, as yet, David had
been the only sufferer in their little band.

“Let them burn their powder,” said the deliberate
scout, while bullet after bullet whizzed by the place
where he so securely lay; “there will be a fine gathering
of lead when it is over, and I fancy the imps
will tire of the sport, afore these old stones cry out
for mercy! Uncas, boy, you waste the kernels by
overcharging; and a kicking rifle never carries a true
bullet. I told you to take that loping miscreant
under the line of white paint; now, if your bullet went
a hair's breadth, it went two inches above it. The
life lies low in a Mingo, and humanity teaches us to
make a quick end of the sarpents.”

A quiet smile lighted the haughty features of the
young Mohican, betraying his knowledge of the English
language, as well as of the others meaning, but
he suffered it to pass away without vindication or reply.

“I cannot permit you to accuse Uncas of want of
judgment or of skill,” said Duncan; “he saved my life
in the coolest and readiest manner, and he has made
a friend who never will require to be reminded of the
debt he owes.”

Uncas partly raised his body, and offered his hand

to the grasp of Heyward. During this act of friendship,
the two young men exchanged looks of intelligence,
which caused Duncan to forget the character
and condition of his wild associate. In the meanwhile,
Hawk-eye, who looked on this burst of youthful
feeling with a cool but kind regard, made the following
calm reply:

“Life is an obligation which friends often owe to
each other in the wilderness. I dare say I may have
served Uncas some such turn myself before now;
and I very well remember, that he has stood between
me and death five different times: three times from
the Mingoes, once in crossing Horican, and—”

“That bullet was better aimed than common!” exclaimed
Duncan, involuntarily shrinking from a shot
which struck on the rock at his side with a smart
rebound.

Hawk-eye laid his hand on the shapeless metal,
and shook his head, as he examined it, saying, “Falling
lead is never flattened! had it come from the
clouds this might have happened!”

But the rifle of Uncas was deliberately raised toward
the heavens, directing the eyes of his companions to a
point, where the mystery was immediately explained.
A ragged oak grew on the right bank of the river,
nearly opposite to their position, which, seeking the
freedom of the open space, had inclined so far forward,
that its upper branches overhung that arm
of the stream which flowed nearest to its own shore.
Among the topmost leaves, which scantily concealed
the gnarled and stinted limbs, a dark looking savage
was nestled, partly concealed by the trunk of the

tree, and partly exposed, as though looking down upon
them, to ascertain the effect produced by his
treacherous aim.

“These devils will scale heaven to circumvent us
to our ruin,” said Hawk-eye; “keep him in play,
boy, until I can bring `kill-deer' to bear, when we
will try his metal on each side of the tree at once.”

Uncas delayed his fire until the scout uttered the
word. The rifles flashed, the leaves and bark of the
oak flew into the air, and were scattered by the
wind, but the Indian answered their assault by a taunting
laugh, sending down upon them another bullet in
return, that struck the cap of Hawk-eye from his head.
Once more the savage yells burst out of the woods,
and the leaden hail whistled above the heads of the
besieged, as if to confine them to a place where they
might become easy victims to the enterprise of the
warrior who had mounted the tree.

“This must be looked to!” said the scout, glancing
about him with an anxious eye. “Uncas, call
up your father; we have need of all our we'pons to
bring the cunning varment from his roost.”

The signal was instantly given; and, before Hawk-eye
had reloaded his rifle, they were joined by Chingachgook.
When his son pointed out to the experienced
warrior the situation of their dangerous enemy,
the usual exclamatory “hugh,” burst from his
lips; after which, no further expression of surprise
or alarm was suffered to escape from him. Hawk-eye
and the Mohicans conversed earnestly together in
Delaware for a few moments, when each quietly took

his post, in order to execute the plan they had speedily
devised.

The warrior in the oak had maintained a quick,
though ineffectual, fire, from the moment of his discovery.
But his aim was interrupted by the vigilance of
his enemies, whose rifles instantaneously bore on any
part of his person that was left exposed. Still
his bullets fell in the centre of the crouching party.
The clothes of Heyward, which rendered him peculiarly
conspicuous, were repeatedly cut, and once
blood was drawn from a slight wound in his arm.

At length, emboldened by the long and patient
watchfulness of his enemies, the Huron attempted a
better and more fatal aim. The quick eyes of the
Mohicans caught the dark line of his lower limbs
incautiously exposed through the thin foliage, a few inches
from the trunk of the tree. Their rifles made a
common report, when, sinking on his wounded limb,
part of the body of the savage came into view. Swift
as thought, Hawk-eye seized the advantage, and discharged
his fatal weapon into the top of the oak. The
leaves were unusually agitated; the dangerous rifle
fell from its commanding elevation, and after a few
moments of vain struggling, the form of the savage
was seen swinging in the wind, while he grasped a ragged
and naked branch of the tree with his hands
clenched in desperation.

“Give him, in pity, give him, the contents of another
rifle!” cried Duncan, turning away his eyes in
horror from the spectacle of a fellow creature in such
awful jeopardy.

“Not a karnel!” exclaimed the obdurate Hawk-eye;
“his death is certain, and we have no powder

to spare, for Indian fights, sometimes, last for days;
'tis their scalps, or ours!—and God, who made us,
has put into our natures the craving after life!”

Against this stern and unyielding morality, supported,
as it was, by such visible policy, there was
no appeal. From that moment the yells in the forest
once more ceased, the fire was suffered to decline,
and all eyes, those of friends, as well as enemies, became
fixed on the hopeless condition of the wretch,
who was dangling between heaven and earth. The
body yielded to the currents of air, and though no
murmur or groan escaped the victim, there were instants
when he grimly faced his foes, and the anguish
of cold despair might be traced, through the
intervening distance, in possession of his swarthy
lineaments. Three several times the scout raised his
piece in mercy, and as often prudence getting the better
of his intention, it was again silently lowered.
At length, one hand of the Huron lost its hold, and
dropped exhausted to his side. A desperate and
fruitless struggle to recover the branch succeeded,
and then the savage was seen for a fleeting instant,
grasping wildly at the empty air. The lightning is
not quicker than was the flame from the rifle of
Hawk-eye; the limbs of the victim trembled and contracted,
the head fell to the bosom, and the body parted
the foaming waters, like lead, when the element
closed above it, in its ceaseless velocity, and every
vestige of the unhappy Huron was lost for ever.

No shout of triumph succeeded this important advantage,
but the Mohicans gazed at each other in
silent horror. A single yell burst from the woods,

and all was again still. Hawk-eye, who alone appeared
to reason on the occasion, shook his head,
at his own momentary weakness, even uttering his
self-disapprobation aloud.

“ 'Twas the last charge in my horn, and the last
bullet in my pouch, and 'twas the act of a boy!” he
said; “what mattered it whether he struck the rock
living or dead! feeling would soon be over. Uncas,
lad, go down to the canoe, and bring up the big horn;
it is all the powder we have left, and we shall need
it to the last grain, or I am ignorant of the Mingo
nature.”

The young Mohican instantly complied, leaving
the scout turning over the useless contents of his
pouch, and shaking the empty horn with renewed
discontent. From this unsatisfactory examination,
however, he was soon called by a loud and piercing
exclamation from Uncas, that sounded even to the
unpractised ears of Duncan, as the signal of some
new and unexpected calamity. Every thought
filled with apprehension for the precious treasure he
had concealed in the cavern, the young man started
to his feet, totally regardless of the hazard he incurred
by such an exposure. As if actuated by a common impulse,
his movement was imitated by his companions,
and, together, they rushed down the pass to the
friendly chasm, with a rapidity that rendered the
scattering fire of their enemies perfectly harmless.
The unwonted cry had brought the sisters, together
with the wounded David, from their place of refuge,
and the whole party, at a single glance, was made acquainted
with the nature of the disaster, that had disturbed

even the practised stoicism of their youthful
Indian protector.

At a short distance from the rock, their little bark
was to be seen floating across the eddy, towards the
swift current of the river, in a manner which proved
that its course was directed by some hidden agent.
The instant this unwelcome sight caught the eye of the
scout, his rifle was levelled, as by instinct, but the
barrel gave no answer to the bright sparks of the flint.

“ 'Tis too late, 'tis too late!” Hawk-eye exclaimed,
dropping the useless piece, in bitter disappointment;
“the miscreant has struck the rapid, and had
we powder, it could hardly send the lead swifter than
he now goes!”

As he ended, the adventurous Huron raised his head
above the shelter of the canoe, and while it glided
swiftly down the stream, waved his hand, and gave
forth the shout, which was the known signal of success.
His cry was answered by a yell, and a laugh
from the woods, as tauntingly exulting as if fifty demons
were uttering their blasphemies at the fall of
some Christian soul.

“Well may you laugh, ye children of the devil!”
said the scout, seating himself on a projection of the
rock, and suffering his gun to fall neglected at his feet,
“for the three quickest and truest rifles in these
woods, are no better than so many stalks of mullen,
or the last year's horns of a buck!”

“What, then, is to be done?” demanded Duncan,
losing the first feeling of disappointment, in a more
manly desire for exertion; “what will become of
us?”

Hawk-eye made no other reply than by passing
his finger around the crown of his head, in a manner
so significant, that none who witnessed the action
could mistake its meaning.

“Surely, surely, our case is not so desperate!”
exclaimed the youth; “the Hurons are not here; we
may make good the caverns; we may oppose their
landing.”

“With what?” coolly demanded the scout.
“The arrows of Uncas, or such tears as women shed!
No, no; you are young, and rich, and have friends,
and at such an age I know it is hard to die! but,”
glancing his eyes at the Mohicans, “let us remember,
we are men without a cross, and let us teach
these natives of the forest, that white blood can run
as freely as red, when the appointed hour is come.”

Duncan turned quickly in the direction indicated by
the other's eyes, and read a confirmation of his worst
apprehensions in the conduct of the Indians. Chingachgook,
placing himself in a dignified posture on
another fragment of the rock, had already laid aside
his knife and tomahawk, and was in the act of taking
the eagle's plume from his head, and smoothing the
solitary tuft of hair, in readiness to perform its last
and revolting office. His countenance was composed,
though thoughtful, while his dark, gleaming eyes,
were gradually losing the fierceness of the combat in
an expression better suited to the change he expected,
momentarily, to undergo.

“Our case is not, cannot, be so hopeless!” said
Duncan; “even at this very moment succour may
be at hand. I see no enemies! they have sickened.

of a struggle, in which they risk so much with so
little prospect of gain?”

“It may be a minute, or it may be an hour, afore
the wily sarpents steal upon us, and its quite in natur
for them to be lying within hearing at this very moment,”
said Hawk-eye; “but come they will, and
in such a fashion as will leave us nothing to hope!
Chingachgook”—he spoke in Delaware—“my brother,
we have fought our last battle together, and the
Maquas will triumph in the death of the sage man of
the Mohicans, and of the pale face, whose eyes can
make night as day, and level the clouds to the mists of
the springs!”

“Let the Mingo women go weep over their slain!”
returned the Indian, with characteristic pride, and
unmoved firmness; “the great snake of the Mohicans
has coiled himself in their wigwams, and has
poisoned their triumph with the wailings of children,
whose fathers have not returned! Eleven warriors
lie hid from the graves of their tribe, since the snows
have melted, and none will tell where to find them,
when the tongue of Chingachgook shall be silent! Let
them draw the sharpest knife, and whirl the swiftest
tomahawk, for their bitterest enemy is in their hands.
Uncas, my boy, topmost branch of a noble trunk, call
on the cowards to hasten, or their hearts will soften,
and they will change to women!”

“They look among the fishes for their dead!” returned
the low, soft voice of the youthful chieftain;
“the Hurons float with the slimy eels! They drop
from the oaks like fruit that is ready to be eaten! and
the Delawares laugh!”

“Ay, ay,” muttered the scout, who had listened to

this peculiar burst of the natives with deep attention;
“they have warmed their Indian feelings, and they'll
soon provoke the Maquas to give them a speedy end.
As for me, who am of the whole blood of the whites,
it is befitting that I should die as becomes my colour,
with no words of scoffing in my mouth, and without
bitterness at the heart!”

“Why die at all!” said Cora, advancing from the
place where natural horror had, until this moment,
held her riveted to the rock; “the path is open on
every side; fly, then, to the woods, and call on God
for succour! Go, brave men, we owe you too much
already; let us no longer involve you in our hapless
fortunes!”

“You but little know the craft of the Iroquois,
lady, if you judge they have left the path open to the
woods!” returned Hawk-eye, who, however, immediately
added in his simplicity; “the down stream current,
it is certain, might soon sweep us beyond the
reach of their rifles, or the sounds of their voices.”

“Then try the river. Why linger, to add to the
number of the victims of our merciless enemies?”

“Why!” repeated the scout, looking about him
proudly, “because it is better for a man to die at
peace with himself, than to live haunted by an evil
conscience! What answer could we give to Munro,
when he asked us, where and how we left his children?”

“Go to him, and say, that you left them with a
message to hasten to their aid,” returned Cora, advancing
nigher to the scout, in her generous ardour;
“that the Hurons bear them into the northern wilds,

but that by vigilance and speed they may yet be rescued;
and if, after all, it should please heaven, that
his assistance come too late, bear to him,” she continued,
the firm tones of her voice gradually lowering,
until they seemed nearly choked, “the love, the
blessings, the final prayers of his daughters, and bid
him not to mourn their early fate, but to look forward
with humble confidence to the Christian's goal
to meet his children.”

The hard, weather-beaten features of the scout
began sensibly to work, as he listened, and when she
had ended, he dropped his chin to his hand, like a
man musing profoundly on the nature of her proposal.

“There is reason in her words!” at length broke
from his compressed and trembling lips; “ay, and
they bear the spirit of christianity; what might be
right and proper in a red skin, may be sinful in a man
who has not even a cross in blood to plead for his
ignorance. Chingachgook! Uncas! hear you the
talk of the dark-eyed woman!”

He now spoke in Delaware to his companions, and
his address, though calm and deliberate, seemed very
decided. The elder Mohican heard him with deep
gravity, and appeared to ponder on his words, as
though he felt the importance of their import. After
a moment of hesitation, he waved his hand in
assent, and uttered the English word “good,” with
the peculiar emphasis of his people. Then, replacing
his knife and tomahawk in his girdle, the warrior
moved silently to the edge of the rock most concealed
from the hostile banks of the river. Here

he paused a moment, pointed significantly to the woods
below, and saying a few words in his own language,
as if indicating his intended route, he dropped into the
water, and sunk from before the eyes of the anxious
witnesses of his movements.

The scout delayed his departure to speak to the
generous maiden, whose breathing became lighter as
she saw the success of her remonstrance.

“Wisdom is sometimes given to the young, as well
as to the old,” he said; “and what you have spoken
is wise, not to call it by a better word. If you are led
into the woods, that is, such of you as may be spared
for a while, break the twigs on the bushes as you
pass, and make the marks of your trail, as broad as
you can, when, if mortal eyes can see them, depend
on having a friend who will follow to the ends of the
'arth afore he desarts you.”

He gave Cora an affectionate shake of the hand,
lifted his rifle, and after regarding it a moment with
melancholy solicitude, laid it carefully aside, and descended
to the place where Chingachgook had just
disappeared. For an instant he hung suspended by
the rock; and looking about him, with a countenance
of peculiar care, he added, bitterly, “Had the powder
held out, this disgrace could never have befallen!”
then, loosening his hold, the water closed above his
head, and he also became lost to view.

All eyes were now turned on Uncas, who stood
leaning against the ragged rock, in immoveable composure.
After waiting a short time, Cora pointed
down the river, and said—

“Your friends, as you perceive, have not been

seen, and are now, most probably, in safety; is it not
time for you to follow?”

“Uncas will stay,” the young Mohican calmly answered,
in his imperfect English.

“To increase the horror of our capture, and to
diminish the chances of our release! Go, generous
young man,” Cora continued, lowering her eyes under
the ardent gaze of the Mohican, and, perhaps,
with an inuitive consciousness of her power; “go
to my father, as I have said, and be the most confidential
of my messengers. Tell him to trust you
with the means to buy the freedom of his daughters.
Go; 'tis my wish, 'tis my prayer, that you will go!”

The settled, calm, look of the young chief, changed
to an expression of gloom, but he no longer hesitated.
With a noiseless step he crossed the rock, and dropped
into the troubled stream. Hardly a breath was drawn
by those he left behind, until they caught a glimpse
of his head emerging for air, far down the current,
when he again sunk, and was seen no more.

These sudden and apparently successful experiments
had all taken place in a few minutes of that
time, which had now become so precious. After the
last look at Uncas, Cora turned, and, with a quivering
lip, addressed herself to Heyward:

“I have heard of your boasted skill in the water,
too, Duncan,” she said; “follow, then, the wise example
set you by these simple and faithful beings.”

“Is such the faith that Cora Munro would exact
from her protector,” said the young man, smiling,
mournfully, but with bitterness.

“This is not a time for idle subtleties and false

opinions,” she answered; “but a moment when
every duty should be equally considered. To us
you can be of no further service here, but your precious
life may be saved for other and nearer friends.”

He made no reply, though his eyes fell wistfully
on the beautiful form of Alice, who was clinging to
his arm with the dependency of an infant.

“Consider, after all,” continued Cora, after a pause
of a moment, during which she seemed to struggle
with a pang, even more acute than any that her fears
had excited, “the worst to us can be but death; a
tribute that all must pay at the good time of God's
appointment.”

“There are evils even worse than death,” said
Duncan, speaking hoarsely, and as if fretful at her
importunity, “but which the presence of one who
would die in your behalf may avert.”

Cora instantly ceased her entreaties, and veiling
her face in her shawl, drew the nearly insensible
Alice after her into the deepest recess of the inner cavern.