University of Virginia Library

10. CHAPTER X.

The instant the first 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
those 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 blood-thirsty vengeance in their looks, for their
absent owner, le Renard had stood at a little distance
from the prisoners, with a demeanour so quiet
and satisfied, as to betray, that he, at least, had already
effected the grand purpose of his 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
he has 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 coloured with
blood! Did Magua say that the hatchet was out of
the ground, and that his hand had dug it up?”

As Duncan dare 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 his 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 red men 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, and added—

“Is he a bird, to spread his wings; or is he a fish,
to swim without looking at the sun! The white chief
reads in his books, and 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; élan 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 red skin will make
the sound of his voice speak for him.” Then changing
his language, he continued, adhering to the imperfect
nomenclature of his provincial instructers, “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, sullen 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
vice. 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 lull 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 his
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 nigher 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 scattering 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. Favoured 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 sign 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 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 his wealth, 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, then; 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 honourable 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,
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 carry to the rich and gray
headed Scotchman, his daughters? Yes, 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 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 before 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, swifter
than yon noisy Hudson, 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 with the deepest silence,
as Heyward slowly proceeded in this 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 marks?”

“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
disdain.

Another long and deliberative 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 their 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 further
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
maidens, 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, were
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 speedy succour.

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

his own 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 exclamation,
which he intended should express the humility of
his 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 favourable to his hopes.
Sometimes he fancied that the wary savage, despairing
of passing the beleaguering army of Montcalm, in
safety, was holding his way towards a well known
border settlement, where a distinguished officer of the
crown, and a favoured 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
further from the scene of the war, and, consequently,
from the post, not only of honour, 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
the dark glances of 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 called out twenty times to
their leader, and ventured a remonstrance, had there
been any thing encouraging in the gloomy reserve of
the savage. But Magua, 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 though fatigue could not affect him. Whenever
the eyes of the wearied travellers rose from the
decayed leaves over which they trode, his dark
form was to be seen glancing among the stems of the
trees in front, his head immoveably fastened in a forward
position, with the light plume on its crest,
fluttering in a current of air, made solely by the
swiftness of his own motion.

But all this diligence and speed was not without an
object. After crossing a low vale, through which a
gushing brook meandered, he suddenly rose 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.