CHAPTER XXIV.


"Thus spoke the sage: the kings without delay
Dissolve the council, and their chief obey."
Pope's Iliad


A single moment served to convince the youth that he was mistaken. A hand was
laid, with a powerful pressure, on his arm, and the low voice of Uncas muttered
in his ear:

"The Hurons are dogs. The sight of a coward's blood can never make
a warrior tremble. The 'Gray Head' and the Sagamore are safe, and
the rifle of Hawkeye is not asleep. GoUncas and the 'Open
Hand' are now strangers. It is enough."

Heyward would gladly have heard more, but a gentle push from his friend urged
him toward the door, and admonished him of the danger that might attend the
discovery of their intercourse. Slowly and reluctantly yielding to the
necessity, he quitted the place, and mingled with the throng that hovered nigh.
The dying fires in the clearing cast a dim and uncertain light on the dusky
figures that were silently stalking to and fro; and occasionally a brighter
gleam than common glanced into the lodge, and exhibited the figure of Uncas
still maintaining its upright attitude near the dead body of the Huron.

A knot of warriors soon entered the place again, and reissuing, they bore the
senseless remains into the adjacent woods. After this termination of the scene,
Duncan wandered among the lodges, unquestioned and unnoticed, endeavoring to
find some trace of her in whose behalf he incurred the risk he ran. In the
present temper of the tribe it would have been easy to have fled and rejoined
his companions, had such a wish crossed his mind. But, in addition to the
never-ceasing anxiety on account of Alice, a fresher though feebler interest in
the fate of Uncas assisted to chain him to the spot. He continued, therefore,
to stray from hut to hut, looking into each only to encounter additional
disappointment, until he had made the entire circuit of the village. Abandoning
a species of inquiry that proved so fruitless, he retraced his steps to the
council-lodge, resolved to seek and question David, in order to put an end to
his doubts.

On reaching the building, which had proved alike the seat of judgment and the
place of execution, the young man found that the excitement had already
subsided. The warriors had reassembled, and were now calmly smoking, while they
conversed gravely on the chief incidents of their recent expedition to the head
of the Horican. Though the return of Duncan was likely to remind them of his
character, and the suspicious circumstances of his visit, it produced no
visible sensation. So far, the terrible scene that had just occurred proved
favorable to his views, and he required no other prompter than his own feelings
to convince him of the expediency of profiting by so unexpected an advantage.

Without seeming to hesitate, he walked into the lodge, and took his seat with a
gravity that accorded admirably with the deportment of his hosts. A hasty but
searching glance sufficed to tell him that, though Uncas still remained where
he had left him, David had not reappeared. No other restraint was imposed on
the former than the watchful looks of a young Huron, who had placed himself at
hand; though an armed warrior leaned against the post that formed one side of
the narrow doorway. In every other respect, the captive seemed at liberty;
still he was excluded from all participation in the discourse, and possessed
much more of the air of some finely molded statue than a man having life and
volition.

Heyward had too recently witnessed a frightful instance of the prompt
punishments of the people into whose hands he had fallen to hazard an exposure
by any officious boldness. He would greatly have preferred silence and
meditation to speech, when a discovery of his real condition might prove so
instantly fatal. Unfortunately for this prudent resolution, his entertainers
appeared otherwise disposed. He had not long occupied the seat wisely taken a
little in the shade, when another of the elder warriors, who spoke the French
language, addressed him:

"My Canada father does not forget his children," said the chief;
"I thank him. An evil spirit lives in the wife of one of my young men.
Can the cunning stranger frighten him away?"

Heyward possessed some knowledge of the mummery practised among the Indians, in
the cases of such supposed visitations. He saw, at a glance, that the
circumstance might possibly be improved to further his own ends. It would,
therefore, have been difficult, just then to have uttered a proposal that would
have given him more satisfaction. Aware of the necessity of preserving the
dignity of his imaginary character, however, he repressed his feelings, and
answered with suitable mystery:

"Spirits differ; some yield to the power of wisdom, while others are too
strong."

"My brother is a great medicine," said the cunning savage;
"he will try?"

A gesture of assent was the answer. The Huron was content with the assurance,
and, resuming his pipe, he awaited the proper moment to move. The impatient
Heyward, inwardly execrating the cold customs of the savages, which required
such sacrifices to appearance, was fain to assume an air of indifference, equal
to that maintained by the chief, who was, in truth, a near relative of the
afflicted woman. The minutes lingered, and the delay had seemed an hour to the
adventurer in empiricism, when the Huron laid aside his pipe and drew his robe
across his breast, as if about to lead the way to the lodge of the invalid.
Just then, a warrior of powerful frame, darkened the door, and stalking
silently among the attentive group, he seated himself on one end of the low
pile of brush which sustained Duncan. The latter cast an impatient look at his
neighbor, and felt his flesh creep with uncontrollable horror when he found
himself in actual contact with Magua.

The sudden return of this artful and dreaded chief caused a delay in the
departure of the Huron. Several pipes, that had been extinguished, were lighted
again; while the newcomer, without speaking a word, drew his tomahawk from his
girdle, and filling the bowl on its head began to inhale the vapors of the weed
through the hollow handle, with as much indifference as if he had not been
absent two weary days on a long and toilsome hunt. Ten minutes, which appeared
so many ages to Duncan, might have passed in this manner; and the warriors were
fairly enveloped in a cloud of white smoke before any of them spoke.

"Welcome!" one at length uttered; "has my friend found the
moose?"

"The young men stagger under their burdens," returned Magua.
"Let 'Reed-that-bends' go on the hunting path; he will meet
them."

A deep and awful silence succeeded the utterance of the forbidden name. Each
pipe dropped from the lips of its owner as though all had inhaled an impurity
at the same instant. The smoke wreathed above their heads in little eddies, and
curling in a spiral form it ascended swiftly through the opening in the roof of
the lodge, leaving the place beneath clear of its fumes, and each dark visage
distinctly visible. The looks of most of the warriors were riveted on the
earth; though a few of the younger and less gifted of the party suffered their
wild and glaring eyeballs to roll in the direction of a white-headed savage,
who sat between two of the most venerated chiefs of the tribe. There was
nothing in the air or attire of this Indian that would seem to entitle him to
such a distinction. The former was rather depressed, than remarkable for the
bearing of the natives; and the latter was such as was commonly worn by the
ordinary men of the nation. Like most around him for more than a minute his
look, too, was on the ground; but, trusting his eyes at length to steal a
glance aside, he perceived that he was becoming an object of general attention.
Then he arose and lifted his voice in the general silence.

"It was a lie," he said; "I had no son. He who was called by
that name is forgotten; his blood was pale, and it came not from the veins of a
Huron; the wicked Chippewas cheated my squaw. The Great Spirit has said, that
the family of Wiss-entush should end; he is happy who knows that the evil of
his race dies with himself. I have done."

The speaker, who was the father of the recreant young Indian, looked round and
about him, as if seeking commendation of his stoicism in the eyes of the
auditors. But the stern customs of his people had made too severe an exaction
of the feeble old man. The expression of his eye contradicted his figurative
and boastful language, while every muscle in his wrinkled visage was working
with anguish. Standing a single minute to enjoy his bitter triumph, he turned
away, as if sickening at the gaze of men, and, veiling his face in his blanket,
he walked from the lodge with the noiseless step of an Indian seeking, in the
privacy of his own abode, the sympathy of one like himself, aged, forlorn and
childless.

The Indians, who believe in the hereditary transmission of virtues and defects
in character, suffered him to depart in silence. Then, with an elevation of
breeding that many in a more cultivated state of society might profitably
emulate, one of the chiefs drew the attention of the young men from the
weakness they had just witnessed, by saying, in a cheerful voice, addressing
himself in courtesy to Magua, as the newest comer:

"The Delawares have been like bears after the honey pots, prowling around
my village. But who has ever found a Huron asleep?"

The darkness of the impending cloud which precedes a burst of thunder was not
blacker than the brow of Magua as he exclaimed:

"The Delawares of the Lakes!"

"Not so. They who wear the petticoats of squaws, on their own river. One
of them has been passing the tribe."

"Did my young men take his scalp?"

"His legs were good, though his arm is better for the hoe than the
tomahawk," returned the other, pointing to the immovable form of Uncas.

Instead of manifesting any womanish curiosity to feast his eyes with the sight
of a captive from a people he was known to have so much reason to hate, Magua
continued to smoke, with the meditative air that he usually maintained, when
there was no immediate call on his cunning or his eloquence. Although secretly
amazed at the facts communicated by the speech of the aged father, he permitted
himself to ask no questions, reserving his inquiries for a more suitable
moment. It was only after a sufficient interval that he shook the ashes from
his pipe, replaced the tomahawk, tightened his girdle, and arose, casting for
the first time a glance in the direction of the prisoner, who stood a little
behind him. The wary, though seemingly abstracted Uncas, caught a glimpse of
the movement, and turning suddenly to the light, their looks met. Near a minute
these two bold and untamed spirits stood regarding one another steadily in the
eye, neither quailing in the least before the fierce gaze he encountered. The
form of Uncas dilated, and his nostrils opened like those of a tiger at bay;
but so rigid and unyielding was his posture, that he might easily have been
converted by the imagination into an exquisite and faultless representation of
the warlike deity of his tribe. The lineaments of the quivering features of
Magua proved more ductile; his countenance gradually lost its character of
defiance in an expression of ferocious joy, and heaving a breath from the very
bottom of his chest, he pronounced aloud the formidable name of:

"Le Cerf Agile!"

Each warrior sprang upon his feet at the utterance of the well-known
appellation, and there was a short period during which the stoical constancy of
the natives was completely conquered by surprise. The hated and yet respected
name was repeated as by one voice, carrying the sound even beyond the limits of
the lodge. The women and children, who lingered around the entrance, took up
the words in an echo, which was succeeded by another shrill and plaintive howl.
The latter was not yet ended, when the sensation among the men had entirely
abated. Each one in presence seated himself, as though ashamed of his
precipitation; but it was many minutes before their meaning eyes ceased to roll
toward their captive, in curious examination of a warrior who had so often
proved his prowess on the best and proudest of their nation. Uncas enjoyed his
victory, but was content with merely exhibiting his triumph by a quiet
smilean emblem of scorn which belongs to all time and every nation.

Magua caught the expression, and raising his arm, he shook it at the captive,
the light silver ornaments attached to his bracelet rattling with the trembling
agitation of the limb, as, in a tone of vengeance, he exclaimed, in English:

"Mohican, you die!"

"The healing waters will never bring the dead Hurons to life,"
returned Uncas, in the music of the Delawares; "the tumbling river washes
their bones; their men are squaws: their women owls. Go! call together the
Huron dogs, that they may look upon a warrior, My nostrils are offended; they
scent the blood of a coward."

The latter allusion struck deep, and the injury rankled. Many of the Hurons
understood the strange tongue in which the captive spoke, among which number
was Magua. This cunning savage beheld, and instantly profited by his advantage.
Dropping the light robe of skin from his shoulder, he stretched forth his arm,
and commenced a burst of his dangerous and artful eloquence. However much his
influence among his people had been impaired by his occasional and besetting
weakness, as well as by his desertion of the tribe, his courage and his fame as
an orator were undeniable. He never spoke without auditors, and rarely without
making converts to his opinions. On the present occasion, his native powers
were stimulated by the thirst of revenge.

He again recounted the events of the attack on the island at Glenn's, the
death of his associates and the escape of their most formidable enemies. Then
he described the nature and position of the mount whither he had led such
captives as had fallen into their hands. Of his own bloody intentions toward
the maidens, and of his baffled malice he made no mention, but passed rapidly
on to the surprise of the party by "La Longue Carabine," and its
fatal termination. Here he paused, and looked about him, in affected veneration
for the departed, but, in truth, to note the effect of his opening narrative.
As usual, every eye was riveted on his face. Each dusky figure seemed a
breathing statue, so motionless was the posture, so intense the attention of
the individual.

Then Magua dropped his voice which had hitherto been clear, strong and
elevated, and touched upon the merits of the dead. No quality that was likely
to command the sympathy of an Indian escaped his notice. One had never been
known to follow the chase in vain; another had been indefatigable on the trail
of their enemies. This was brave, that generous. In short, he so managed his
allusions, that in a nation which was composed of so few families, he contrived
to strike every chord that might find, in its turn, some breast in which to
vibrate.

"Are the bones of my young men," he concluded, "in the
burial-place of the Hurons? You know they are not. Their spirits are gone
toward the setting sun, and are already crossing the great waters, to the happy
hunting-grounds. But they departed without food, without guns or knives,
without moccasins, naked and poor as they were born. Shall this be? Are their
souls to enter the land of the just like hungry Iroquois or unmanly Delawares,
or shall they meet their friends with arms in their hands and robes on their
backs? What will our fathers think the tribes of the Wyandots have become? They
will look on their children with a dark eye, and say, 'Go! a Chippewa has
come hither with the name of a Huron.' Brothers, we must not forget the
dead; a red-skin never ceases to remember. We will load the back of this
Mohican until he staggers under our bounty, and dispatch him after my young
men. They call to us for aid, though our ears are not open; they say,
'Forget us not.' When they see the spirit of this Mohican toiling
after them with his burden, they will know we are of that mind. Then will they
go on happy; and our children will say, 'So did our fathers to their
friends, so must we do to them.' What is a Yengee? we have slain many,
but the earth is still pale. A stain on the name of Huron can only be hid by
blood that comes from the veins of an Indian. Let this Delaware die."

The effect of such an harangue, delivered in the nervous language and with the
emphatic manner of a Huron orator, could scarcely be mistaken. Magua had so
artfully blended the natural sympathies with the religious superstition of his
auditors, that their minds, already prepared by custom to sacrifice a victim to
the manes of their countrymen, lost every vestige of humanity in a wish for
revenge. One warrior in particular, a man of wild and ferocious mien, had been
conspicuous for the attention he had given to the words of the speaker. His
countenance had changed with each passing emotion, until it settled into a look
of deadly malice. As Magua ended he arose and, uttering the yell of a demon,
his polished little axe was seen glancing in the torchlight as he whirled it
above his head. The motion and the cry were too sudden for words to interrupt
his bloody intention. It appeared as if a bright gleam shot from his hand,
which was crossed at the same moment by a dark and powerful line. The former
was the tomahawk in its passage; the latter the arm that Magua darted forward
to divert its aim. The quick and ready motion of the chief was not entirely too
late. The keen weapon cut the war plume from the scalping tuft of Uncas, and
passed through the frail wall of the lodge as though it were hurled from some
formidable engine.

Duncan had seen the threatening action, and sprang upon his feet, with a heart
which, while it leaped into his throat, swelled with the most generous
resolution in behalf of his friend. A glance told him that the blow had failed,
and terror changed to admiration. Uncas stood still, looking his enemy in the
eye with features that seemed superior to emotion. Marble could not be colder,
calmer, or steadier than the countenance he put upon this sudden and vindictive
attack. Then, as if pitying a want of skill which had proved so fortunate to
himself, he smiled, and muttered a few words of contempt in his own tongue.

"No!" said Magua, after satisfying himself of the safety of the
captive; "the sun must shine on his shame; the squaws must see his flesh
tremble, or our revenge will be like the play of boys. Go! take him where there
is silence; let us see if a Delaware can sleep at night, and in the morning
die."

The young men whose duty it was to guard the prisoner instantly passed their
ligaments of bark across his arms, and led him from the lodge, amid a profound
and ominous silence. It was only as the figure of Uncas stood in the opening of
the door that his firm step hesitated. There he turned, and, in the sweeping
and haughty glance that he threw around the circle of his enemies, Duncan
caught a look which he was glad to construe into an expression that he was not
entirely deserted by hope.

Magua was content with his success, or too much occupied with his secret
purposes to push his inquiries any further. Shaking his mantle, and folding it
on his bosom, he also quitted the place, without pursuing a subject which might
have proved so fatal to the individual at his elbow. Notwithstanding his rising
resentment, his natural firmness, and his anxiety on behalf of Uncas, Heyward
felt sensibly relieved by the absence of so dangerous and so subtle a foe. The
excitement produced by the speech gradually subsided. The warriors resumed
their seats and clouds of smoke once more filled the lodge. For near half an
hour, not a syllable was uttered, or scarcely a look cast aside; a grave and
meditative silence being the ordinary succession to every scene of violence and
commotion among these beings, who were alike so impetuous and yet so
self-restrained.

When the chief, who had solicited the aid of Duncan, finished his pipe, he made
a final and successful movement toward departing. A motion of a finger was the
intimation he gave the supposed physician to follow; and passing through the
clouds of smoke, Duncad was glad, on more accounts than one, to be able at last
to breathe the pure air of a cool and refreshing summer evening.

Instead of pursuing his way among those lodges where Heyward had already made
his unsuccessful search, his companion turned aside, and proceeded directly
toward the base of an adjacent mountain, which overhung the temporary village.
A thicket of brush skirted its foot, and it became necessary to proceed through
a crooked and narrow path. The boys had resumed their sports in the clearing,
and were enacting a mimic chase to the post among themselves. In order to
render their games as like the reality as possible, one of the boldest of their
number had conveyed a few brands into some piles of tree-tops that had hitherto
escaped the burning. The blaze of one of these fires lighted the way of the
chief and Duncan, and gave a character of additional wildness to the rude
scenery. At a little distance from a bald rock, and directly in its front, they
entered a grassy opening, which they prepared to cross. Just then fresh fuel
was added to the fire, and a powerful light penetrated even to that distant
spot. It fell upon the white surface of the mountain, and was reflected
downward upon a dark and mysterious-looking being that arose, unexpectedly, in
their path. The Indian paused, as if doubtful whether to proceed, and permitted
his companion to approach his side. A large black ball, which at first seemed
stationary, now began to move in a manner that to the latter was inexplicable.
Again the fire brightened and its glare fell more distinctly on the object.
Then even Duncan knew it, by its restless and sidling attitudes, which kept the
upper part of its form in constant motion, while the animal itself appeared
seated, to be a bear. Though it growled loudly and fiercely, and there were
instants when its glistening eyeballs might be seen, it gave no other
indications of hostility. The Huron, at least, seemed assured that the
intentions of this singular intruder were peaceable, for after giving it an
attentive examination, he quietly pursued his course.

Duncan, who knew that the animal was often domesticated among the Indians,
followed the example of his companion, believing that some favorite of the
tribe had found its way into the thicket, in search of food. They passed it
unmolested. Though obliged to come nearly in contact with the monster, the
Huron, who had at first so warily determined the character of his strange
visitor, was now content with proceeding without wasting a moment in further
examination; but Heyward was unable to prevent his eyes from looking backward,
in salutary watchfulness against attacks in the rear. His uneasiness was in no
degree diminished when he perceived the beast rolling along their path, and
following their footsteps. He would have spoken, but the Indian at that moment
shoved aside a door of bark, and entered a cavern in the bosom of the mountain.

Profiting by so easy a method of retreat, Duncan stepped after him, and was
gladly closing the slight cover to the opening, when he felt it drawn from his
hand by the beast, whose shaggy form immediately darkened the passage. They
were now in a straight and long gallery, in a chasm of the rocks, where retreat
without encountering the animal was impossible. Making the best of the
circumstances, the young man pressed forward, keeping as close as possible to
his conductor. The bear growled frequently at his heels, and once or twice its
enormous paws were laid on his person, as if disposed to prevent his further
passage into the den.

How long the nerves of Heyward would have sustained him in this extraordinary
situation, it might be difficult to decide, for, happily, he soon found relief.
A glimmer of light had constantly been in their front, and they now arrived at
the place whence it proceeded.

A large cavity in the rock had been rudely fitted to answer the purposes of
many apartments. The subdivisions were simple but ingenious, being composed of
stone, sticks, and bark, intermingled. Openings above admitted the light by
day, and at night fires and torches supplied the place of the sun. Hither the
Hurons had brought most of their valuables, especially those which more
particularly pertained to the nation; and hither, as it now appeared, the sick
woman, who was believed to be the victim of supernatural power, had been
transported also, under an impression that her tormentor would find more
difficulty in making his assaults through walls of stone than through the leafy
coverings of the lodges. The apartment into which Duncan and his guide first
entered, had been exclusively devoted to her accommodation. The latter
approached her bedside, which was surrounded by females, in the center of whom
Heyward was surprised to find his missing friend David.

A single look was sufficient to apprise the pretended leech that the invalid
was far beyond his powers of healing. She lay in a sort of paralysis,
indifferent to the objects which crowded before her sight, and happily
unconscious of suffering. Heyward was far from regretting that his mummeries
were to be performed on one who was much too ill to take an interest in their
failure or success. The slight qualm of conscience which had been excited by
the intended deception was instantly appeased, and he began to collect his
thoughts, in order to enact his part with suitable spirit, when he found he was
about to be anticipated in his skill by an attempt to prove the power of music.

Gamut, who had stood prepared to pour forth his spirit in song when the
visitors entered, after delaying a moment, drew a strain from his pipe, and
commenced a hymn that might have worked a miracle, had faith in its efficacy
been of much avail. He was allowed to proceed to the close, the Indians
respecting his imaginary infirmity, and Duncan too glad of the delay to hazard
the slightest interruption. As the dying cadence of his strains was falling on
the ears of the latter, he started aside at hearing them repeated behind him,
in a voice half human and half sepulchral. Looking around, he beheld the shaggy
monster seated on end in a shadow of the cavern, where, while his restless body
swung in the uneasy manner of the animal, it repeated, in a sort of low growl,
sounds, if not words, which bore some slight resemblance to the melody of the
singer.

The effect of so strange an echo on David may better be imagined than
described. His eyes opened as if he doubted their truth; and his voice became
instantly mute in excess of wonder. A deep-laid scheme, of communicating some
important intelligence to Heyward, was driven from his recollection by an
emotion which very nearly resembled fear, but which he was fain to believe was
admiration. Under its influence, he exclaimed aloud: "She expects you,
and is at hand"; and precipitately left the cavern.