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CHAPTER 17
"Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.
The web is wove. The work is done."
--Gray
The hostile armies, which lay in the wilds of the Horican, passed the night of the
ninth of August, 1757, much in the manner they would, had they encountered on the
fairest field of Europe.
While the conquered were still, sullen, and dejected, the victors triumphed.
But there are limits alike to grief and joy; and long before the watches of the
morning came the stillness of those boundless woods was only broken by a gay
call from some exulting young Frenchman of
the advanced pickets, or a menacing challenge from the fort, which sternly
forbade the approach of any hostile footsteps before the stipulated moment.
Even these occasional threatening sounds ceased to be heard in that dull hour which
precedes the day, at which period a listener might have sought in vain any
evidence of the presence of those armed
powers that then slumbered on the shores of the "holy lake."
It was during these moments of deep silence that the canvas which concealed the
entrance to a spacious marquee in the French encampment was shoved aside, and a
man issued from beneath the drapery into the open air.
He was enveloped in a cloak that might have been intended as a protection from the
chilling damps of the woods, but which served equally well as a mantle to conceal
his person.
He was permitted to pass the grenadier, who watched over the slumbers of the French
commander, without interruption, the man making the usual salute which betokens
military deference, as the other passed
swiftly through the little city of tents, in the direction of William Henry.
Whenever this unknown individual encountered one of the numberless sentinels
who crossed his path, his answer was prompt, and, as it appeared, satisfactory;
for he was uniformly allowed to proceed without further interrogation.
With the exception of such repeated but brief interruptions, he had moved silently
from the center of the camp to its most advanced outposts, when he drew nigh the
soldier who held his watch nearest to the works of the enemy.
As he approached he was received with the usual challenge:
"Qui vive?"
"France," was the reply. "Le mot d'ordre?"
"La victorie," said the other, drawing so nigh as to be heard in a loud whisper.
"C'est bien," returned the sentinel, throwing his musket from the charge to his
shoulder; "vous promenez bien matin, monsieur!"
"Il est necessaire d'etre vigilant, mon enfant," the other observed, dropping a
fold of his cloak, and looking the soldier close in the face as he passed him, still
continuing his way toward the British fortification.
The man started; his arms rattled heavily as he threw them forward in the lowest and
most respectful salute; and when he had again recovered his piece, he turned to
walk his post, muttering between his teeth:
"Il faut etre vigilant, en verite! je crois que nous avons la, un caporal qui ne dort
jamais!"
The officer proceeded, without affecting to hear the words which escaped the sentinel
in his surprise; nor did he again pause until he had reached the low strand, and in
a somewhat dangerous vicinity to the western water bastion of the fort.
The light of an obscure moon was just sufficient to render objects, though dim,
perceptible in their outlines.
He, therefore, took the precaution to place himself against the trunk of a tree, where
he leaned for many minutes, and seemed to contemplate the dark and silent mounds of
the English works in profound attention.
His gaze at the ramparts was not that of a curious or idle spectator; but his looks
wandered from point to point, denoting his knowledge of military usages, and betraying
that his search was not unaccompanied by distrust.
At length he appeared satisfied; and having cast his eyes impatiently upward toward the
summit of the eastern mountain, as if anticipating the approach of the morning,
he was in the act of turning on his
footsteps, when a light sound on the nearest angle of the bastion caught his
ear, and induced him to remain.
Just then a figure was seen to approach the edge of the rampart, where it stood,
apparently contemplating in its turn the distant tents of the French encampment.
Its head was then turned toward the east, as though equally anxious for the
appearance of light, when the form leaned against the mound, and seemed to gaze upon
the glassy expanse of the waters, which,
like a submarine firmament, glittered with its thousand mimic stars.
The melancholy air, the hour, together with the vast frame of the man who thus leaned,
musing, against the English ramparts, left no doubt as to his person in the mind of
the observant spectator.
Delicacy, no less than prudence, now urged him to retire; and he had moved cautiously
round the body of the tree for that purpose, when another sound drew his
attention, and once more arrested his footsteps.
It was a low and almost inaudible movement of the water, and was succeeded by a
grating of pebbles one against the other.
In a moment he saw a dark form rise, as it were, out of the lake, and steal without
further noise to the land, within a few feet of the place where he himself stood.
A rifle next slowly rose between his eyes and the watery mirror; but before it could
be discharged his own hand was on the lock.
"Hugh!" exclaimed the savage, whose treacherous aim was so singularly and so
unexpectedly interrupted.
Without making any reply, the French officer laid his hand on the shoulder of
the Indian, and led him in profound silence to a distance from the spot, where their
subsequent dialogue might have proved
dangerous, and where it seemed that one of them, at least, sought a victim.
Then throwing open his cloak, so as to expose his uniform and the cross of St.
Louis which was suspended at his breast, Montcalm sternly demanded:
"What means this?
Does not my son know that the hatchet is buried between the English and his Canadian
Father?"
"What can the Hurons do?" returned the savage, speaking also, though imperfectly,
in the French language. "Not a warrior has a scalp, and the pale
faces make friends!"
"Ha, Le Renard Subtil! Methinks this is an excess of zeal for a
friend who was so late an enemy! How many suns have set since Le Renard
struck the war-post of the English?"
"Where is that sun?" demanded the sullen savage.
"Behind the hill; and it is dark and cold. But when he comes again, it will be bright
and warm.
Le Subtil is the sun of his tribe. There have been clouds, and many mountains
between him and his nation; but now he shines and it is a clear sky!"
"That Le Renard has power with his people, I well know," said Montcalm; "for yesterday
he hunted for their scalps, and to-day they hear him at the council-fire."
"Magua is a great chief."
"Let him prove it, by teaching his nation how to conduct themselves toward our new
friends."
"Why did the chief of the Canadas bring his young men into the woods, and fire his
cannon at the earthen house?" demanded the subtle Indian.
"To subdue it.
My master owns the land, and your father was ordered to drive off these English
squatters. They have consented to go, and now he calls
them enemies no longer."
"'Tis well. Magua took the hatchet to color it with
blood. It is now bright; when it is red, it shall
be buried."
"But Magua is pledged not to sully the lilies of France.
The enemies of the great king across the salt lake are his enemies; his friends, the
friends of the Hurons."
"Friends!" repeated the Indian in scorn. "Let his father give Magua a hand."
Montcalm, who felt that his influence over the warlike tribes he had gathered was to
be maintained by concession rather than by power, complied reluctantly with the
other's request.
The savage placed the fingers of the French commander on a deep scar in his ***, and
then exultingly demanded: "Does my father know that?"
"What warrior does not?
'Tis where a leaden bullet has cut." "And this?" continued the Indian, who had
turned his naked back to the other, his body being without its usual calico mantle.
"This!--my son has been sadly injured here; who has done this?"
"Magua slept hard in the English wigwams, and the sticks have left their mark,"
returned the savage, with a hollow laugh, which did not conceal the fierce temper
that nearly choked him.
Then, recollecting himself, with sudden and native dignity, he added: "Go; teach your
young men it is peace. Le Renard Subtil knows how to speak to a
Huron warrior."
Without deigning to bestow further words, or to wait for any answer, the savage cast
his rifle into the hollow of his arm, and moved silently through the encampment
toward the woods where his own tribe was known to lie.
Every few yards as he proceeded he was challenged by the sentinels; but he stalked
sullenly onward, utterly disregarding the summons of the soldiers, who only spared
his life because they knew the air and
tread no less than the obstinate daring of an Indian.
Montcalm lingered long and melancholy on the strand where he had been left by his
companion, brooding deeply on the temper which his ungovernable ally had just
discovered.
Already had his fair fame been tarnished by one horrid scene, and in circumstances
fearfully resembling those under which he now found himself.
As he mused he became keenly sensible of the deep responsibility they assume who
disregard the means to attain the end, and of all the danger of setting in motion an
engine which it exceeds human power to control.
Then shaking off a train of reflections that he accounted a weakness in such a
moment of triumph, he retraced his steps toward his tent, giving the order as he
passed to make the signal that should arouse the army from its slumbers.
The first tap of the French drums was echoed from the *** of the fort, and
presently the valley was filled with the strains of martial music, rising long,
thrilling and lively above the rattling accompaniment.
The horns of the victors sounded merry and cheerful flourishes, until the last laggard
of the camp was at his post; but the instant the British fifes had blown their
shrill signal, they became mute.
In the meantime the day had dawned, and when the line of the French army was ready
to receive its general, the rays of a brilliant sun were glancing along the
glittering array.
Then that success, which was already so well known, was officially announced; the
favored band who were selected to guard the gates of the fort were detailed, and
defiled before their chief; the signal of
their approach was given, and all the usual preparations for a change of masters were
ordered and executed directly under the guns of the contested works.
A very different scene presented itself within the lines of the Anglo-American
army.
As soon as the warning signal was given, it exhibited all the signs of a hurried and
forced departure.
The sullen soldiers shouldered their empty tubes and fell into their places, like men
whose blood had been heated by the past contest, and who only desired the
opportunity to revenge an indignity which
was still wounding to their pride, concealed as it was under the observances
of military etiquette.
Women and children ran from place to place, some bearing the scanty remnants of their
baggage, and others searching in the ranks for those countenances they looked up to
for protection.
Munro appeared among his silent troops firm but dejected.
It was evident that the unexpected blow had struck deep into his heart, though he
struggled to sustain his misfortune with the port of a man.
Duncan was touched at the quiet and impressive exhibition of his grief.
He had discharged his own duty, and he now pressed to the side of the old man, to know
in what particular he might serve him.
"My daughters," was the brief but expressive reply.
"Good heavens! are not arrangements already made for their convenience?"
"To-day I am only a soldier, Major Heyward," said the veteran.
"All that you see here, claim alike to be my children."
Duncan had heard enough.
Without losing one of those moments which had now become so precious, he flew toward
the quarters of Munro, in quest of the sisters.
He found them on the threshold of the low edifice, already prepared to depart, and
surrounded by a clamorous and weeping assemblage of their own sex, that had
gathered about the place, with a sort of
instinctive consciousness that it was the point most likely to be protected.
Though the cheeks of Cora were pale and her countenance anxious, she had lost none of
her firmness; but the eyes of Alice were inflamed, and betrayed how long and
bitterly she had wept.
They both, however, received the young man with undisguised pleasure; the former, for
a novelty, being the first to speak.
"The fort is lost," she said, with a melancholy smile; "though our good name, I
trust, remains." "'Tis brighter than ever.
But, dearest Miss Munro, it is time to think less of others, and to make some
provision for yourself.
Military usage--pride--that pride on which you so much value yourself, demands that
your father and I should for a little while continue with the troops.
Then where to seek a proper protector for you against the confusion and chances of
such a scene?"
"None is necessary," returned Cora; "who will dare to injure or insult the daughter
of such a father, at a time like this?"
"I would not leave you alone," continued the youth, looking about him in a hurried
manner, "for the command of the best regiment in the pay of the king.
Remember, our Alice is not gifted with all your firmness, and God only knows the
terror she might endure." "You may be right," Cora replied, smiling
again, but far more sadly than before.
"Listen! chance has already sent us a friend when he is most needed."
Duncan did listen, and on the instant comprehended her meaning.
The low and serious sounds of the sacred music, so well known to the eastern
provinces, caught his ear, and instantly drew him to an apartment in an adjacent
building, which had already been deserted by its customary tenants.
There he found David, pouring out his pious feelings through the only medium in which
he ever indulged.
Duncan waited, until, by the cessation of the movement of the hand, he believed the
strain was ended, when, by touching his shoulder, he drew the attention of the
other to himself, and in a few words explained his wishes.
"Even so," replied the single-minded disciple of the King of Israel, when the
young man had ended; "I have found much that is comely and melodious in the
maidens, and it is fitting that we who have
consorted in so much peril, should abide together in peace.
I will attend them, when I have completed my morning praise, to which nothing is now
wanting but the doxology.
Wilt thou bear a part, friend? The meter is common, and the tune
'Southwell'."
Then, extending the little volume, and giving the pitch of the air anew with
considerate attention, David recommenced and finished his strains, with a fixedness
of manner that it was not easy to interrupt.
Heyward was fain to wait until the verse was ended; when, seeing David relieving
himself from the spectacles, and replacing the book, he continued.
"It will be your duty to see that none dare to approach the ladies with any rude
intention, or to offer insult or taunt at the misfortune of their brave father.
In this task you will be seconded by the domestics of their household."
"Even so."
"It is possible that the Indians and stragglers of the enemy may intrude, in
which case you will remind them of the terms of the capitulation, and threaten to
report their conduct to Montcalm.
A word will suffice." "If not, I have that here which shall,"
returned David, exhibiting his book, with an air in which meekness and confidence
were singularly blended.
Here are words which, uttered, or rather thundered, with proper emphasis, and in
measured time, shall quiet the most unruly temper:
"'Why rage the heathen furiously'?"
"Enough," said Heyward, interrupting the burst of his musical invocation; "we
understand each other; it is time that we should now assume our respective duties."
Gamut cheerfully assented, and together they sought the females.
Cora received her new and somewhat extraordinary protector courteously, at
least; and even the pallid features of Alice lighted again with some of their
native archness as she thanked Heyward for his care.
Duncan took occasion to assure them he had done the best that circumstances permitted,
and, as he believed, quite enough for the security of their feelings; of danger there
was none.
He then spoke gladly of his intention to rejoin them the moment he had led the
advance a few miles toward the Hudson, and immediately took his leave.
By this time the signal for departure had been given, and the head of the English
column was in motion.
The sisters started at the sound, and glancing their eyes around, they saw the
white uniforms of the French grenadiers, who had already taken possession of the
gates of the fort.
At that moment an enormous cloud seemed to pass suddenly above their heads, and,
looking upward, they discovered that they stood beneath the wide folds of the
standard of France.
"Let us go," said Cora; "this is no longer a fit place for the children of an English
officer."
Alice clung to the arm of her sister, and together they left the parade, accompanied
by the moving throng that surrounded them.
As they passed the gates, the French officers, who had learned their rank, bowed
often and low, forbearing, however, to intrude those attentions which they saw,
with peculiar tact, might not be agreeable.
As every vehicle and each beast of burden was occupied by the sick and wounded, Cora
had decided to endure the fatigues of a foot march, rather than interfere with
their comforts.
Indeed, many a maimed and feeble soldier was compelled to drag his exhausted limbs
in the rear of the columns, for the want of the necessary means of conveyance in that
wilderness.
The whole, however, was in motion; the weak and wounded, groaning and in suffering;
their comrades silent and sullen; and the women and children in terror, they knew not
of what.
As the confused and timid throng left the protecting mounds of the fort, and issued
on the open plain, the whole scene was at once presented to their eyes.
At a little distance on the right, and somewhat in the rear, the French army stood
to their arms, Montcalm having collected his parties, so soon as his guards had
possession of the works.
They were attentive but silent observers of the proceedings of the vanquished, failing
in none of the stipulated military honors, and offering no taunt or insult, in their
success, to their less fortunate foes.
Living masses of the English, to the amount, in the whole, of near three
thousand, were moving slowly across the plain, toward the common center, and
gradually approached each other, as they
converged to the point of their march, a vista cut through the lofty trees, where
the road to the Hudson entered the forest.
Along the sweeping borders of the woods hung a dark cloud of savages, eyeing the
passage of their enemies, and hovering at a distance, like vultures who were only kept
from swooping on their prey by the presence and restraint of a superior army.
A few had straggled among the conquered columns, where they stalked in sullen
discontent; attentive, though, as yet, passive observers of the moving multitude.
The advance, with Heyward at its head, had already reached the defile, and was slowly
disappearing, when the attention of Cora was drawn to a collection of stragglers by
the sounds of contention.
A truant provincial was paying the forfeit of his disobedience, by being plundered of
those very effects which had caused him to desert his place in the ranks.
The man was of powerful frame, and too avaricious to part with his goods without a
struggle.
Individuals from either party interfered; the one side to prevent and the other to
aid in the robbery.
Voices grew loud and angry, and a hundred savages appeared, as it were, by magic,
where a dozen only had been seen a minute before.
It was then that Cora saw the form of Magua gliding among his countrymen, and speaking
with his fatal and artful eloquence.
The mass of women and children stopped, and hovered together like alarmed and
fluttering birds.
But the cupidity of the Indian was soon gratified, and the different bodies again
moved slowly onward.
The savages now fell back, and seemed content to let their enemies advance
without further molestation.
But, as the female crowd approached them, the gaudy colors of a shawl attracted the
eyes of a wild and untutored Huron. He advanced to seize it without the least
hesitation.
The woman, more in terror than through love of the ornament, wrapped her child in the
coveted article, and folded both more closely to her ***.
Cora was in the act of speaking, with an intent to advise the woman to abandon the
trifle, when the savage relinquished his hold of the shawl, and tore the screaming
infant from her arms.
Abandoning everything to the greedy grasp of those around her, the mother darted,
with distraction in her mien, to reclaim her child.
The Indian smiled grimly, and extended one hand, in sign of a willingness to exchange,
while, with the other, he flourished the babe over his head, holding it by the feet
as if to enhance the value of the ransom.
"Here--here--there--all--any--everything!" exclaimed the breathless woman, tearing the
lighter articles of dress from her person with ill-directed and trembling fingers;
"take all, but give me my babe!"
The savage spurned the worthless rags, and perceiving that the shawl had already
become a prize to another, his bantering but sullen smile changing to a gleam of
ferocity, he dashed the head of the infant
against a rock, and cast its quivering remains to her very feet.
For an instant the mother stood, like a statue of despair, looking wildly down at
the unseemly object, which had so lately nestled in her *** and smiled in her
face; and then she raised her eyes and
countenance toward heaven, as if calling on God to curse the perpetrator of the foul
deed.
She was spared the sin of such a prayer for, maddened at his disappointment, and
excited at the sight of blood, the Huron mercifully drove his tomahawk into her own
brain.
The mother sank under the blow, and fell, grasping at her child, in death, with the
same engrossing love that had caused her to cherish it when living.
At that dangerous moment, Magua placed his hands to his mouth, and raised the fatal
and appalling whoop.
The scattered Indians started at the well- known cry, as coursers bound at the signal
to quit the goal; and directly there arose such a yell along the plain, and through
the arches of the wood, as seldom burst from human lips before.
They who heard it listened with a curdling horror at the heart, little inferior to
that dread which may be expected to attend the blasts of the final summons.
More than two thousand raving savages broke from the forest at the signal, and threw
themselves across the fatal plain with instinctive alacrity.
We shall not dwell on the revolting horrors that succeeded.
Death was everywhere, and in his most terrific and disgusting aspects.
Resistance only served to inflame the murderers, who inflicted their furious
blows long after their victims were beyond the power of their resentment.
The flow of blood might be likened to the outbreaking of a torrent; and as the
natives became heated and maddened by the sight, many among them even kneeled to the
earth, and drank freely, exultingly, hellishly, of the crimson tide.
The trained bodies of the troops threw themselves quickly into solid masses,
endeavoring to awe their assailants by the imposing appearance of a military front.
The experiment in some measure succeeded, though far too many suffered their unloaded
muskets to be torn from their hands, in the vain hope of appeasing the savages.
In such a scene none had leisure to note the fleeting moments.
It might have been ten minutes (it seemed an age) that the sisters had stood riveted
to one spot, horror-stricken and nearly helpless.
When the first blow was struck, their screaming companions had pressed upon them
in a body, rendering flight impossible; and now that fear or death had scattered most,
if not all, from around them, they saw no
avenue open, but such as conducted to the tomahawks of their foes.
On every side arose shrieks, groans, exhortations and curses.
At this moment, Alice caught a glimpse of the vast form of her father, moving rapidly
across the plain, in the direction of the French army.
He was, in truth, proceeding to Montcalm, fearless of every danger, to claim the
tardy escort for which he had before conditioned.
Fifty glittering axes and barbed spears were offered unheeded at his life, but the
savages respected his rank and calmness, even in their fury.
The dangerous weapons were brushed aside by the still nervous arm of the veteran, or
fell of themselves, after menacing an act that it would seem no one had courage to
perform.
Fortunately, the vindictive Magua was searching for his victim in the very band
the veteran had just quitted.
"Father--father--we are here!" shrieked Alice, as he passed, at no great distance,
without appearing to heed them. "Come to us, father, or we die!"
The cry was repeated, and in terms and tones that might have melted a heart of
stone, but it was unanswered.
Once, indeed, the old man appeared to catch the sound, for he paused and listened; but
Alice had dropped senseless on the earth, and Cora had sunk at her side, hovering in
untiring tenderness over her lifeless form.
Munro shook his head in disappointment, and proceeded, bent on the high duty of his
station.
"Lady," said Gamut, who, helpless and useless as he was, had not yet dreamed of
deserting his trust, "it is the jubilee of the devils, and this is not a meet place
for Christians to tarry in.
Let us up and fly." "Go," said Cora, still gazing at her
unconscious sister; "save thyself. To me thou canst not be of further use."
David comprehended the unyielding character of her resolution, by the simple but
expressive gesture that accompanied her words.
He gazed for a moment at the dusky forms that were acting their hellish rites on
every side of him, and his tall person grew more erect while his chest heaved, and
every feature swelled, and seemed to speak
with the power of the feelings by which he was governed.
"If the Jewish boy might tame the great spirit of Saul by the sound of his harp,
and the words of sacred song, it may not be amiss," he said, "to try the potency of
music here."
Then raising his voice to its highest tone, he poured out a strain so powerful as to be
heard even amid the din of that bloody field.
More than one savage rushed toward them, thinking to rifle the unprotected sisters
of their attire, and bear away their scalps; but when they found this strange
and unmoved figure riveted to his post, they paused to listen.
Astonishment soon changed to admiration, and they passed on to other and less
courageous victims, openly expressing their satisfaction at the firmness with which the
white warrior sang his death song.
Encouraged and deluded by his success, David exerted all his powers to extend what
he believed so holy an influence.
The unwonted sounds caught the ears of a distant savage, who flew raging from group
to group, like one who, scorning to touch the vulgar herd, hunted for some victim
more worthy of his renown.
It was Magua, who uttered a yell of pleasure when he beheld his ancient
prisoners again at his mercy.
"Come," he said, laying his soiled hands on the dress of Cora, "the wigwam of the Huron
is still open. Is it not better than this place?"
"Away!" cried Cora, veiling her eyes from his revolting aspect.
The Indian laughed tauntingly, as he held up his reeking hand, and answered: "It is
red, but it comes from white veins!"
"Monster! there is blood, oceans of blood, upon thy soul; thy spirit has moved this
scene."
"Magua is a great chief!" returned the exulting savage, "will the dark-hair go to
his tribe?" "Never! strike if thou wilt, and complete
thy revenge."
He hesitated a moment, and then catching the light and senseless form of Alice in
his arms, the subtle Indian moved swiftly across the plain toward the woods.
"Hold!" shrieked Cora, following wildly on his footsteps; "release the child! wretch!
what is't you do?"
But Magua was deaf to her voice; or, rather, he knew his power, and was
determined to maintain it. "Stay--lady--stay," called Gamut, after the
unconscious Cora.
"The holy charm is beginning to be felt, and soon shalt thou see this horrid tumult
stilled."
Perceiving that, in his turn, he was unheeded, the faithful David followed the
distracted sister, raising his voice again in sacred song, and sweeping the air to the
measure, with his long arm, in diligent accompaniment.
In this manner they traversed the plain, through the flying, the wounded and the
dead.
The fierce Huron was, at any time, sufficient for himself and the victim that
he bore; though Cora would have fallen more than once under the blows of her savage
enemies, but for the extraordinary being
who stalked in her rear, and who now appeared to the astonished natives gifted
with the protecting spirit of madness.
Magua, who knew how to avoid the more pressing dangers, and also to elude
pursuit, entered the woods through a low ravine, where he quickly found the
Narragansetts, which the travelers had
abandoned so shortly before, awaiting his appearance, in custody of a savage as
fierce and malign in his expression as himself.
Laying Alice on one of the horses, he made a sign to Cora to mount the other.
Notwithstanding the horror excited by the presence of her captor, there was a present
relief in escaping from the bloody scene enacting on the plain, to which Cora could
not be altogether insensible.
She took her seat, and held forth her arms for her sister, with an air of entreaty and
love that even the Huron could not deny.
Placing Alice, then, on the same animal with Cora, he seized the bridle, and
commenced his route by plunging deeper into the forest.
David, perceiving that he was left alone, utterly disregarded as a subject too
worthless even to destroy, threw his long limb across the saddle of the beast they
had deserted, and made such progress in the
pursuit as the difficulties of the path permitted.
They soon began to ascend; but as the motion had a tendency to revive the dormant
faculties of her sister, the attention of Cora was too much divided between the
tenderest solicitude in her behalf, and in
listening to the cries which were still too audible on the plain, to note the direction
in which they journeyed.
When, however, they gained the flattened surface of the mountain-top, and approached
the eastern precipice, she recognized the spot to which she had once before been led
under the more friendly auspices of the scout.
Here Magua suffered them to dismount; and notwithstanding their own captivity, the
curiosity which seems inseparable from horror, induced them to gaze at the
sickening sight below.
The cruel work was still unchecked.
On every side the captured were flying before their relentless persecutors, while
the armed columns of the Christian king stood fast in an apathy which has never
been explained, and which has left an
immovable blot on the otherwise fair escutcheon of their leader.
Nor was the sword of death stayed until cupidity got the mastery of revenge.
Then, indeed, the shrieks of the wounded, and the yells of their murderers grew less
frequent, until, finally, the cries of horror were lost to their ear, or were
drowned in the loud, long and piercing whoops of the triumphant savages.