University of Virginia Library

5. CHAPTER V.

The reader may better imagine, than we describe,
the surprise of Heyward. His lurking Indians were
suddenly converted into four-footed beasts; his lake
into a beaver pond; his cataract into a dam, constructed
by those industrious and ingenious quadrupeds;
and a suspected enemy into his tried friend,
David Gamut, the master of psalmody. The presence
of the latter created so many unexpected hopes
relative to the sisters, that, without a moment's hesitation,
the young man broke out of his ambush,
and sprang forward to join the two principal actors
in the scene.

The merriment of Hawk-eye was not easily appeased.
Without ceremony, and with a rough hand,
he twirled the supple Gamut around on his heel, and
more than once affirmed that the Hurons had done
themselves great credit in the fashion of his costume.
Then seizing the hand of the other, he squeezed it with
a gripe that brought the tears into the eyes of the placid
David, and wished him joy of his new condition.

“You were about opening your throat-practysings

among the beavers, were ye!” he said. “The cunning
devils know half the trade already, for they beat
the time with their tails, as you heard just now; and
in good time it was too, or `kill-deer' might have
sounded the first note among them. I have known
greater fools, who could read and write, than an experienced
old beaver; but as for squalling, the animals
are born dumb!—What think you of such a
song as this?”

David shut his sensitive ears, and even Heyward.
apprised as he was of the nature of the cry, looked
upward in quest of the bird, as the cawing of a crow
rang in the air about them.

“See,” continued the laughing scout, as he pointed
towards the remainder of the party, who, in obedience
to the signal, were already approaching; “this
is music, which has its natural virtues; it brings two
good rifles to my elbow, to say nothing of the knives
and tomahawks. But we see that you are safe; now
tell us what has become of the maidens.”

“They are captives to the heathen,” said David;
“and though greatly troubled in spirit, enjoying
comfort and safety in the body.”

“Both?” demanded the breathless Heyward.

“Even so. Though our wayfaring has been sore,
and our sustenance scanty, we have had little other
cause for complaint, except the violence done our
feelings, by being thus led in captivity into a far
land.”

“Bless ye for these very words!” exclaimed the
trembling Munro; “I shall then receive my babes
spotless, and angel like, as I lost them!”

“I know not that their delivery is at hand,” returned
the doubting David; “the leader of these savages
is possessed of an evil spirit, that no power, short of
Omnipotence, can tame. I have tried him, sleeping
and waking, but neither sounds nor language seem to
touch his soul.”

“Where is the knave?” bluntly interrupted the
scout.

“He hunts the moose to day, with his young men;
and to-morrow, as I hear, they pass further into
these forests, and nigher to the borders of Canada.
The elder maiden is conveyed to a neighbouring
people, whose lodges are situate beyond yonder
black pinnacle of rock; while the younger is detained
among the women of the Hurons, whose dwellings
are but two short miles hence, on a table land,
where the fire has done the office of the ax, and prepared
the place for their reception.”

“Alice, my gentle Alice!” murmured Heyward;
“she has lost the consolation of her sister's presence!”

“Even so. But so far as praise and thanksgiving
in psalmody can temper the spirit in affliction, she
has not suffered.”

“Has she then a heart for music?”

“Of the graver and more solemn character;
though it must be acknowledged, that in spite of all
my endeavours, the maiden weeps oftener than she
smiles. At such moments I forbear to press the holy
songs; but there are many sweet and comfortable
periods of satisfactory communication, when the ears

of the savages are astounded with the upliftings of
our voices.”

“And why are you permitted to go at large, unwatched?”

David composed his features into what he intended
should express an air of modest humility, before
he meekly replied—

“Little be the praise to such a worm as I. But,
though the power of psalmody was suspended in the
terrible business of that field of blood, through which
we passed, it has recovered its influence, even over
the souls of the heathen, and I am suffered to go and
come at will.”

The scout laughed, and tapping his own forehead
significantly, he perhaps explained the singular indulgence
more satisfactorily, when he said—

“The Indians never harm a non-composser. But
why, when the path lay open before your eyes, did
you not strike back on your own trail, (it is not so
blind as that which a squirrel would make,) and bring
in the tidings to Edward?”

The scout, remembering only his own sturdy and
iron nature, had probably exacted a task, that David,
under no circumstances, could have performed.
But, without entirely losing the meekness of his air,
the latter was content to answer—

“Though my soul would rejoice to visit the habitations
of christendom once more, my feet would
rather follow the tender spirits intrusted to my
keeping, even into the idolatrous province of the
Jesuits, than take one step backward, while they
pined in captivity and sorrow.”

Though the figurative language of David was not
very intelligible to all who heard him, the sincere
and steady expression of his eye, and the glow on
his honest countenance, were not easily mistaken.
Uncas pressed closer to his side, and regarded the
speaker with a look of grave commendation, while
his father expressed his satisfaction by the ordinary
pithy exclamation of approbation. The scout shook
his head, as he rejoined—

“The Lord never intended that the man should
place all his endeavours in his throat, to the neglect
of other and better gifts! But he has fallen into the
hands of some silly woman, when he should have
been gathering his education under a blue sky, and
among the beauties of the forest. Here, friend; I
did intend to kindle a fire with this tooting whistle of
thine, but as you value the thing, take it, and blow
your best on it!”

Gamut received his pitch-pipe with as strong an
expression of pleasure, as he believed it compatible
with the grave functions he exercised, to exhibit.
After essaying its virtues, repeatedly, in contrast
with his own voice, and satisfying himself that none
of its melody was lost, he made a very serious demonstration
towards achieving a few stanzas of one
of the longest effusions in the little volume, so often
mentioned.

Heyward, however, hastily interrupted his pious
purpose, by continuing questions concerning the past
and present condition of his fellow captives, and in a
manner more methodical than had been permitted by
his feelings in the opening of their interview. David,

though he regarded his treasure with longing eyes,
was constrained to answer; especially, as the venerable
father took a part in the interrogatories,
with an interest too imposing to be denied. Nor
did the scout fail to throw in a pertinent inquiry,
whenever a fitting occasion presented. In this
manner, though with frequent interruptions, which
were filled with certain threatening sounds from the
recovered instrument, the pursuers were put in possession
of such leading circumstances, as were likely
to prove useful in accomplishing their great and engrossing
object—the recovery of the sisters. The
narrative of David was simple, and the facts but few.

Magua had waited on the mountain until a safe
moment to retire presented itself, when he had descended,
and taken the route along the western side
of the Horican, in the direction of the Canadas. As
the subtle Huron was familiar with the paths, and
well knew there was no immediate danger of pursuit,
their progress had been moderate, and far from
fatiguing. It appeared, from the unembellished
statement of David, that his own presence had been
rather endured than desired; though even Magua had
not been entirely exempt from that veneration with
which the Indians regard those whom the Great Spirit
has visited in their intellects. At night, the utmost
care had been taken of the captives, both to prevent
injury from the damps of the woods, and to guard
against an escape. At the spring, the horses were
turned loose, as has been seen; and notwithstanding
the remoteness and length of their trail, the artifices already
named were resorted to, in order to cut off every

clue to their place of retreat. On their arrival at
the encampment of his people, Magua, in obedience
to a policy seldom departed from, separated his prisoners.
Cora had been sent to a tribe that temporarily
occupied an adjacent valley, though David
was far too ignorant of the customs and history of
the natives, to be able to declare any thing satisfactory
concerning their name or character. He only knew
that they had not engaged in the late expedition against
William Henry; that, like the Hurons themselves,
they were allies of Montcalm; and that they maintained
an amicable, though a watchful, intercourse
with the warlike and savage people, whom chance
had, for a time, brought in such close and disagreeable
contact with themselves.

The Mohicans and the scout listened to his interrupted
and imperfect narrative, with an interest that
obviously increased as he proceeded, and it was
while attempting to explain the pursuits of the community,
in which Cora was detained, that the latter
abruptly demanded—

“Did you see the fashion of their knives? were
they of English or French formation?”

“My thoughts were bent on no such vanities, but
rather mingled in consolation with those of the maidens.”

“The time may come when you will not consider
the knife of a savage such a despisable vanity,” returned
the scout, with a strong expression of contempt
for the other's dulness. “Had they held their corn-feast—or
can you say any thing of the totems of their
tribe?”

“Of corn, we had many and plentiful feasts; for
the grain, being in the milk, is both sweet to the mouth
and comfortable to the stomach. Of totem, I know
not the meaning; but if it appertaineth in any wise to
the art of Indian music, it need not be inquired after
at their hands. They never join their voices in
praise, and it would seem that they are among the
profanest of the idolatrous.”

“Therein you behe the nature of an Indian.
Even the Mingo adores but the true and living God!
'Tis a wicked fabrication of the whites, and I say it
to the shame of my colour, that would make the warrior
bow down before images of his own creation. It
is true, they endeavour to make truces with the wicked
one—as who would not with an enemy he cannot
conquer—but they look up for favour and assistance
to the Great and Good Spirit only.”

“It may be so,” said David; “but I have seen
strange and fantastic images drawn in their paint, of
which their admiration and care, savoured of spiritual
pride; especially one, and that too a foul and
loathsome object.”

“Was it a sarpent?” quickly demanded the scout.

“Much the same. It was in the likeness of an abject
and creeping tortoise!”

“Hugh!” exclaimed both the attentive Mohicans
in a breath; while the scout shook his head with the
air of one who had made an important, but by no
means pleasing discovery. Then the father spoke,
in the language of the Delawares, and with a calmness
and dignity that instantly arrested the attention
even of those, to whom his words were unintelligible.

His gestures were impressive, and, at times, energetic.
Once he lifted his arm on high, and as it descended,
the action threw aside the folds of his light mantle,
a finger resting on his breast, as if he would enforce
his meaning by the attitude. Duncan's eyes
followed the movement, and he perceived that the
animal just mentioned was beautifully, though faintly,
worked in a blue tint, on the swarthy breast of
the chief. All that he had ever heard of the violent
separation of the vast tribes of the Delawares, rushed
across his mind, and he awaited the proper moment
to speak, with a suspense that was rendered nearly
intolerable, by his interest in the stake. His wish,
however, was anticipated by the scout, who turned
from his red friend, saying—

“We have found that which may be good or evil
to us, as Heaven disposes. The Sagamore is of the
high blood of the Delawares, and is the great chief of
their Tortoises! That some of this stock are among
the people of whom the singer tells us, is plain, by
his words; and had he but spent half the breath in
prudent questions, that he has blown away in making
a trumpet of his throat, we might have known how
many warriors they numbered. It is, altogether, a
dangerous path we move in; for a friend whose face
is turned from you, often bears a bloodier mind, than
the enemy who seeks your scalp!”

“Explain,” said Duncan.

“'Tis a long and melancholy tradition, and one I
little like to think of; for it is not to be denied, that
the evil has been mainly done by men with white
skins. But it has ended in turning the tomahawk of

brother against brother, and brought the Mingo and
the Delaware to travel in the same path.”

“You then suspect it is a portion of that people
among whom Cora resides?”

The scout nodded his head in assent, though he
seemed anxious to waive the further discussion of a
subject that appeared painful. The impatient Duncan
now made several hasty and desperate propositions
to attempt the release of the sisters. Munro
seemed to shake off his dull apathy, and listened to
the wild schemes of the young man, with a deference
that his gray hairs and reverend years should have
denied. But the scout, after suffering the ardour of
the lover to expend itself a little, found means to
convince him of the folly of precipitation, in a matter
that would require their coolest judgment and utmost
fortitude.

“It would be well,” he added, “to let this man
go in again, as usual, and for him to tarry in the
lodges, giving notice to the gentle ones of our approach,
until we call him out, by signal, to consult.
You know the cry of a crow, friend, from the whistle
of the whip-poor-will?”

“'Tis a pleasing bird,” returned David, “and
has a soft and melancholy note! though the time is
rather quick and ill-measured.”

“He speaks of the wish-ton-wish,” said the scout;
“well, since you like his whistle, it shall be your
signal. Remember, then, when you hear the whippoor-will's
call three times repeated, you are to come
into the bushes, where the bird might be supposed—”

“Stop,” interrupted Heyward; “I will accompany
him.”

“You!” exclaimed the astonished Hawk-eye;
“are you tired of seeing the sun rise and set?”

“David is a living proof that the Hurons can be
merciful.”

“Ay, but David can use his throat, as no man, in
his senses, would pervart the gift.”

“I too can play the madman, the fool, the hero;
in short, any or every thing, to rescue her I love from
such a captivity. Name your objections no longer;
I am resolved.”

Hawk-eye regarded the young man a moment in
speechless amazement. But Duncan, who, in deference
to the other's skill and services, had hitherto
submitted somewhat implicitly to his dictation, now
assumed the superior, with a loftiness of manner, that
was not easily resisted. He waved his hand, in sign
of his dislike to all remonstrance, and then, in more
tempered language, he continued—

“You have the means of disguise; change me;
paint me too, if you will; in short, alter me to any
thing—a fool.”

“It is not for one like me to say that he who is
already formed by so powerful a hand as Providence,
stands in need of a change,” muttered the discontented
scout. “When you send your parties abroad
in war, you find it prudent, at least, to arrange the
marks and places of encampment, in order that they
who fight on your side, may know when and where
to expect a friend?”

“Listen,” interrupted Duncan; “you have heard

from this faithful follower of the captives, that the
Indians are of two tribes, if not of different nations.
With one, whom you think to be a branch of the Delawares,
is she you call the `dark-hair;' the other,
and younger of the ladies, is undeniably with our declared
enemies, the Hurons. It becomes my youth
and rank to attempt the latter adventure. While
you, therefore, are negotiating with your friends for
the release of one of the sisters, I will effect that of
the other, or die.”

The awakened spirit of the young soldier gleamed
in his eyes, and his form dilated, and became imposing
under its influence. Hawk-eye, though too
much accustomed to Indian artifices not to foresee
all the danger of the experiment, knew not well how
to combat this sudden resolution. Perhaps there
was something in the proposal that suited his own
hardy nature, and that secret love of desperate adventure,
which had increased with his daily experience,
until hazard and danger had become, in some
measure, necessary to the enjoyment of his existence.
Instead of continuing to oppose the scheme
of Duncan, his humour suddenly altered, and he lent
himself to its execution.

“Come,” he said, with a good humoured smile;
“the buck that will take to the water must be headed,
and not followed! Chingachgook has as many
different paints, as the engineer officer's wife, who
takes down natur on scraps of paper, making the
mountains look like cocks of rusty hay, and placing
the blue sky in reach of your hand—the Sagamore
can use them too! Seat yourself on the log, and my

life on it, he can soon make a natural fool of you,
and that, well, to your liking.”

Duncan complied, and the Mohican, who had
been an attentive listener to the discourse, readily
undertook the office. Long practised in all the
subtle arts of his race, he drew, with great dexterity
and quickness, the fantastic shadow that the natives
were accustomed to consider as the evidence of a
friendly and jocular disposition. Every line that
could possibly be interpreted into a secret inclination
for war, was carefully avoided; while, on the
other hand, he studied those conceits that might be
construed into a wish for amity. In short, he entirely
sacrificed every appearance of the warrior,
to the masquerade of a buffoon. Such exhibitions
were not uncommon among the Indians; and as
Duncan was already sufficiently disguised in his
dress, there certainly did exist some reason for believing,
that with his knowledge of French, he might
pass for a juggler from Ticonderoga, straggling
among the allied and friendly tribes.

When he was thought to be sufficiently painted,
the scout gave him much friendly advice; concerted
signals, and appointed the place where they should
meet, in the event of mutual success. The parting
between Munro and his young friend was more melancholy
and feeling; still, the former submitted to
the separation with an indifference, that his warm
and honest nature would never have permitted in a
more healthful state of mind. The scout led Heyward
aside, and acquainted him with his intention to
leave the veteran in some safe encampment, in

charge of Chingachgook, while he and Uncas pursued
their inquiries among the people they had reason
to believe were Delawares. Then renewing
his cautions and advice, he concluded, by saying,
with a solemnity and warmth of feeling, with which
Duncan was deeply touched—

“And now God bless you! You have shown a
spirit that I like; for it is the gift of youth, more especially
one of warm blood and a stout heart. But
believe the warning of a man, who has reason to
know all he says to be true. You will have occasion
for your best manhood, and for a sharper wit
than what is to be gathered in books, afore you outdo
the cunning, or get the better of the courage of a
Mingo! God bless you! if the Hurons master your
scalp, rely on the promise of one, who has two stout
warriors to back him—They shall pay for their
victory, with a life for every hair it holds! I say,
young gentleman, may Providence bless your undertaking,
which is altogether for good; and remember,
that to outwit the knaves it is lawful to practise things,
that may not be naturally the gift of a white skin.”

Duncan shook his worthy and reluctant associate
warmly by the hand, once more recommended his
aged friend to his care, and returning his good
wishes, he motioned to David to proceed. Hawk-eye
gazed after the high-spirited and adventurous
young man for several moments, in open admiration;
then shaking his head, doubtingly, he turned, and led
his own division of the party into the concealment of
the forest.

The route taken by Duncan and David, lay directly

across the clearing of the beavers, and along the
margin of their pond. When the former found himself
alone with one so simple, and so little qualified
to render any assistance in desperate emergencies,
he first began to be sensible of the difficulties of the
task he had undertaken. The fading light increased
the gloominess of the bleak and savage wilderness,
that stretched so far on every side of him, and there
was even a fearful character in the stillness of those
little huts, that he knew were so abundantly peopled.
It struck him, as he gazed at the admirable structures,
and the wonderful precautions of their sagacious
immates, that even the brutes of these vast
wilds were possessed of an instinct nearly commensurate
with his own practised reason; and he
could not reflect, without anxiety, on the unequal
contest that he had so rashly courted. Then came
the glowing image of Alice; her distress; her actual
danger; and all the peril of his situation faded
before her loveliness. Cheering David with his voice,
he moved more swiftly onward, with the light and vigorous
step of youth and enterprise.

After making nearly a semi-circle around the pond,
they diverged from the water-course, and began to
ascend to the level of a slight elevation in that bottom
land, over which they journeyed. Within half an
hour they gained the margin of another opening,
that bore all the signs of having been also made by
the beavers, and which those sagacious animals had
probably been induced, by some accident, to abandon,
for the more eligible position they now occupied.
A very natural sensation caused Duncan to hesitate

a moment, unwilling to leave the cover of their
bushy path, as a man pauses to collect his energies,
before he essays any hazardous experiment, in which
he is secretly conscious they will all be needed.
He profited by the halt, to gather such information
as might be obtained from his short and hasty glances.

On the opposite side of the clearing, and near the
point where the brook tumbled over some rocks,
from a still higher level, some fifty or sixty lodges,
rudely fabricated of logs, brush, and earth, intermingled,
were to be discovered. They were arranged
without any order, and seemed to be constructed
with very little attention to their neatness
or beauty. Indeed, so very inferior were they,
in the two latter particulars, to the village Duncan
had just seen, that he began to expect a second surprise,
no less astonishing than the former. This expectation
was in no degree diminished, when, by the
doubtful twilight, he beheld twenty or thirty forms,
rising alternately, from the cover of the tall, coarse
grass, in front of the lodges, and then sinking again
from the sight, as it were to burrow in the earth.
By the sudden and hasty glimpses that he caught of
these figures, they seemed more like dark glancing
spectres, or some other unearthly beings, than creatures
fashioned with the ordinary and vulgar materials
of flesh and blood. A gaunt, naked form,
was seen, for a single instant, tossing its arms wildly
in the air, and then the spot it had filled was vacant;
the figure appearing, suddenly, in some other and
distant place, or being succeeded by another, possessing
the same mysterious character. David, observing

that his companion lingered, pursued the direction
of his gaze, and in some measure recalled the
recollection of Heyward, by speaking—

“There is much fruitful soil uncultivated here,”
he said; “and I may add, without the sinful leaven
of self-commendation, that, since my short sojourn in
these heathenish abodes, much good seed has been
scattered by the way-side.”

“The tribes are fonder of the chase, than of the
arts of men of labour,” returned the unconscious
Duncan, still gazing at the objects of his wonder.

“It is rather joy than labour to the spirit, to lift
up the voice in praise; but sadly do these boys
abuse their gifts! Rarely have I found any of their
age, on whom nature has so freely bestowed the elements
of psalmody; and surely, surely, there are none
who neglect them more. Three nights have I now
tarried here, and three several times have I assembled
the urchins to join in sacred song, and as often
have they responded to my efforts with whoopings
and howlings that have chilled my inmost soul!”

“Of whom speak you?”

“Of those children of the devil, who waste their
precious moments in yonder idle antics. Ah! the
wholesome restraint of discipline is but little known
among this self-abandoned people! In a country of
birches, a rod is never seen; and it ought not to appear
a marvel in my eyes, that the choicest blessings
of Providence are wasted in such cries as these.”

David closed his ears against the juvenile pack,
whose yells just then rang shrilly through the forest;

and Duncan, suffering his lip to curl in a proud
smile, as in mockery at his own momentary superstition,
said firmly—

“We will proceed.”

Without removing the safeguards from his ears, the
master of song complied, and together they pursued
their way, boldly, towards what David was sometimes
wont to call “the tents of the Philistines.”