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CHAPTER 10
"I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn As much as we this night have overwatched!"
--Midsummer Night's Dream
The instant the 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 tribes 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 "La Longue Carabine,"
with a fierceness that could not be easily 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 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 bloodthirsty vengeance
in their looks for their absent owner, Le Renard had stood at a little distance from
the prisoners, with a demeanor so quiet and satisfied, as to betray that he 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 received in war, or the hands that
gave them."
"Was it war, when the tired Indian rested at the sugartree to taste his corn! who
filled the bushes with creeping enemies! who drew the knife, whose tongue was peace,
while his heart was colored with blood!
Did Magua say that the hatchet was out of the ground, and that his hand had dug it
up?"
As Duncan dared 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 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 him 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.
"Is he a bird, to spread his wings; or is he a fish, to swim without air!
The white chief read in his books, and he believes the Hurons are fools!"
"Though no fish, 'The Long Rifle' can swim.
He floated down the stream when the powder was all burned, 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 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; elan 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 to him."
Then, changing his language, he continued, adhering to the imperfect nomenclature of
his provincial instructors.
"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, has 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 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 vise.
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 quiet 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 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 nearer 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 counsel.
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 his short conference, Heyward, finding a respite from his gravest 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 defenses than a few scattered logs of driftwood.
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
skillful warriors, in attitudes that
enabled them to command a view of the dangerous passage.
Favored by this arrangement, they touched the head of the island at that point which
had proved so fatal to their first adventurers, but with the advantages of
superior numbers, and the possession of firearms.
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 signs 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 practises 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 toward the
foot of the 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
gold 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; 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 honorable 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! 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 he 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 to carry to the rich and
gray-headed Scotchman his daughters?
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 (FOOTNOTE: It has long been a practice with the whites to conciliate the
important men of the Indians by presenting medals, which are worn in the place of
their own rude ornaments.
Those given by the English generally bear the impression of the reigning king, and
those given by the Americans that of the president.)
-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 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 toward 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, 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 gravely 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 Carbine' cut one so slight 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 sincerity.
Another long and deliberate 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 the 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 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 females, 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, was 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 succor.
When all were prepared, Magua made the signal to proceed, advancing in front to
lead the party in 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
exclamations, which he intended should express the humility of resignation.
Their direction lay toward 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's 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 favorable to his hopes.
Sometimes he fancied the wary savage, despairing of passing the army of Montcalm
in safety, was holding his way toward a well-known border settlement, where a
distinguished officer of the crown, and a
favored 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 honor, 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 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 ventured a remonstrance had there been anything encouraging in the
gloomy reserve of Magua.
But the savage, 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 if fatigue could not affect him.
Whenever the eyes of the wearied travelers rose from the decayed leaves over which
they trod, his dark form was to be seen glancing among the stems of the trees in
front, his head immovably fastened in a
forward position, with the light plume on his crest fluttering in a current of air,
made solely by the swiftness of his own motion.
But all this diligence and speed were not without an object.
After crossing a low vale, through which a gushing brook meandered, he suddenly
ascended 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.