The Last of the Mohicans

‘Hawkeye! will you fight the Maquas?’

‘These Indians know the nature of the woods, as it might be by instinct!’ returned the scout, dropping his rifle, and turning away like a man who was convinced of his error. ‘I must leave the buck to your arrow, Uncas, or we may kill a deer for them thieves, the Iroquois, to eat.’

The instant the father seconded this intimation by an expressive gesture of the hand, Uncas threw himself on the ground, and approached the animal with wary movements. When within a few yards of the cover, he fitted an arrow to his bow with the utmost care, while the antlers moved, as if their owner snuffed an enemy in the tainted air. In another moment the twang of the cord was heard, a white streak was seen glancing into the bushes, and the wounded buck plunged from the cover to the very feet of his hidden enemy. Avoiding the horns of the infuriated animal, Uncas darted to his side, and passed his knife across the throat, when bounding to the edge of the river it fell, dyeing the waters with its blood.

‘‘Twas done with Indian skill,’ said the scout, laughing inwardly, but with vast satisfaction; ‘and ‘twas a pretty sight to behold! Though an arrow is a near shot, and needs a knife to finish the work.’

‘Hugh!’ ejaculated his companion, turning quickly, like a hound who scented game.

‘As I live, there is a drove of them!’ exclaimed the scout, whose eyes began to glisten with the ardour of his usual occupation; ‘if they come within range of a bullet I will drop one, though the whole Six Nations should be lurking within sound! What do you hear, Chingachgook? for to my ears the woods are dumb.’

‘There is but one deer, and he is dead,’ said the Indian, bending his body till his ear nearly touched the earth. ‘I hear the sounds of feet!’

‘Perhaps the wolves have driven the buck to shelter, and are following on his trail.’

‘No. The horses of white men are coming,’ returned the other, raising himself with dignity, and resuming his seat on the log with his former composure. ‘Hawkeye, they are your brothers; speak to them.’

‘That will I, and in English that the king needn’t be ashamed to answer,’ returned the hunter, speaking in the language of which he boasted; ‘but I see nothing, nor do I hear the sounds of man or beast; ’Tis strange that an Indian should understand white sounds better than a man who, his very enemies will own, has no cross in his blood, although he may have lived with the red-skins long enough to be suspected! Ha! there goes something like the cracking of a dry stick, too—now I hear the bushes move—yes, yes, there is a trampling that I mistook for the falls—and—but here they come themselves. God keep them from the Iroquois!’

(#ulink_95776cfb-081c-59b7-aafb-a38710722159) See Appendix, Note B.

(#ulink_95776cfb-081c-59b7-aafb-a38710722159) The North American warrior caused the hair to be plucked from his whole body; a small tuft only was left on the crown of his head, in order that his enemy might avail himself of it, in wrenching off the scalp in the event of his fall. The scalp was the only admissible trophy of victory. Thus, it was deemed more important to obtain the scalp than to kill the man. Some tribes lay great stress on the honour of striking a dead body. These practices have nearly disappeared among the Indians of the Atlantic States.

(#ulink_ebc9d921-79a7-519c-a5a9-6b4334aa496e) The hunting-shirt is a picturesque smock-frock, being shorter, and ornamented with fringes and tassels. The colours are intended to imitate the hues of the wood, with a view to concealment. Many corps of American riflemen have been thus attired, and the dress is one of the most striking of modern times. The hunting-shirt is frequently white.

(#ulink_ebc9d921-79a7-519c-a5a9-6b4334aa496e) The rifle of the army is short; that of the hunter is always long.

(#ulink_4d989f30-de59-53eb-8673-acdc22443a8b) The Mississippi. The scout alludes to a tradition which is very popular among the tribes of the Atlantic States. Evidence of their Asiatic origin is deduced from the circumstances, though great uncertainty hangs over the whole history of the Indians.

(#ulink_ff94a190-d78f-5770-b375-baeaad6ec3e0) See Appendix, Note C.

(#ulink_51f5ab76-4eeb-5d5b-822c-575f51ddd6e1) See Appendix, Note D.

CHAPTER 4 (#ulink_2a900469-46fb-5dd3-b511-43d62dbaf634)

Well, go thy way: thou shalt not from this grove

Till I torment thee for this injury.

—Midsummer Night’s Dream.

The words were still in the mouth of the scout, when the leader of the party, whose approaching footsteps had caught the vigilant ear of the Indian, came openly into view. A beaten path, such as those made by the periodical passage of the deer, wound through a little glen at no great distance, and struck the river at the point where the white man and his red companions had posted themselves. Along this track the travellers, who had produced a surprise so unusual in the depths of the forest, advanced slowly towards the hunter, who was in front of his associates, in readiness to receive them.

‘Who comes?’ demanded the scout, throwing his rifle carelessly across his left arm, and keeping the forefinger of his right hand on the trigger, though he avoided all appearance of menace in the act, ‘Who comes hither, among the beasts and dangers of the wilderness?’

‘Believers in religion, and friends to the law and to the king,’ returned he who rode foremost. ‘Men who have journeyed since the rising sun, in the shades of this forest, without nourishment, and are sadly tired of their wayfaring.’

‘You are, then, lost,’ interrupted the hunter; ‘and have found how helpless ’Tis not to know whether to take the right hand or the left?’

‘Even so; sucking babes are not more dependent on those who guide them than we who are of larger growth, and who may now be said to possess the stature without the knowledge of men. Know you the distance to a post of the crown called William Henry?’

‘Hoot!’ shouted the scout, who did not spare his open laughter, though, instantly checking the dangerous sounds, he indulged his merriment at less risk of being overheard by any lurking enemies. ‘You are as much off the scent as a hound would be, with Horican atwixt him and the deer! William Henry, man! if you are friends to the king, and have business with the army, your better way would be to follow the river down to Edward, and lay the matter before Webb, who tarries there, instead of pushing into the defiles, and driving this saucy Frenchman back across Champlain, into his den again.’

Before the stranger could make any reply to this unexpected proposition, another horseman dashed the bushes aside, and leaped his charger into the pathway, in front of his companion.

‘What, then, may be our distance from Fort Edward?’ demanded a new speaker; ‘the place you advise us to seek we left this morning, and our destination is the head of the lake.’

‘Then you must have lost your eyesight afore losing your way, for the road across the portage is cut to a good two rods, and is as grand a path, I calculate, as any that runs into London, or even before the palace of the king himself.’

‘We will not dispute concerning the excellence of the passage,’ returned Heyward, smiling; for, as the reader has anticipated, it was he. ‘It is enough, for the present, that we trusted to an Indian guide to take us by a nearer, though blinder path, and that we are deceived in his knowledge. In plain words, we know not where we are.’

‘An Indian lost in the woods!’ said the scout, shaking his head doubtingly; ‘when the sun is scorching the tree tops, and the watercourses are full; when the moss on every beech he sees, will tell him in which quarter the north star will shine at night! The woods are full of deer paths which run to the streams and licks, places well known to everybody; nor have the geese done their flight to the Canada waters altogether! ’Tis strange that an Indian should be lost atwixt Horican and the bend in the river! Is he a Mohawk?’

‘Not by birth, though adopted in that tribe; I think his birthplace was farther north, and he is one of those you call a Huron.’

‘Hugh!’ exclaimed the two companions of the scout, who had continued, until this part of the dialogue, seated immovable, and apparently indifferent to what passed, but who now sprang to their feet with an activity and interest that had evidently got the better of their reserve, by a surprise.

‘A Huron!’ repeated the sturdy scout, once more shaking his head in open distrust; ‘they are a thievish race, nor do I care by whom they are adopted; you can never make anything of them but skulks and vagabonds. Since you trusted yourself to the care of one of that nation, I only wonder that you have not fallen in with more.’

‘Of that there is little danger, since William Henry is so many miles in our front. You forget that I have told you our guide is now a Mohawk, and that he serves with our forces as a friend.’

‘And I tell you that he who is born a Mingo will die a Mingo,’ returned the other, positively. ‘A Mohawk! No, give me a Delaware or a Mohican for honesty; and when they will fight, which they won’t all do, having suffered their cunning enemies, the Maquas, to make them women—but when they will fight at all, look to a Delaware, or a Mohican, for a warrior!’

‘Enough of this,’ said Heyward, impatiently; ‘I wish not to inquire into the character of a man that I know, and to whom you must be a stranger. You have not yet answered my question; what is our distance from the main army at Edward?’

‘It seems that may depend on who is your guide. One would think such a horse as that might get over a good deal of ground atwixt sun-up and sun-down.’

‘I wish no contention of idle words with you, friend,’ said Heyward, curbing his dissatisfied manner, and speaking in a more gentle voice; ‘if you will tell me the distance to Fort Edward, and conduct me thither, your labour shall not go without its reward.’

‘And in so doing, how know I that I don’t guide an enemy, and a spy of Montcalm, to the works of the army? It is not every man who can speak the English tongue that is an honest subject.’

‘If you serve with the troops, of whom I judge you to be a scout, you should know of such a regiment of the king as the 60th.’

‘The 60th! you can tell me little of the Royal Americans that I don’t know, though I do wear a hunting-shirt instead of a scarlet jacket.’

‘Well, then, among other things, you may know the name of its major?’

‘Its major?’ interrupted the hunter, elevating his body like one who was proud of his trust. ‘If there is a man in the country who knows Major Effingham, he stands before you.’

‘It is a corp which has many majors; the gentleman you name is the senior, but I speak of the junior of them all; he who commands the companies in garrison at William Henry.’

‘Yes, yes; I have heard that a young gentleman of vast riches, from one of the provinces far south, has got the place. He is over young, too, to hold such rank, and to be put above men whose heads are beginning to bleach; and yet they say he is a soldier in his knowledge, and a gallant gentleman!’

‘Whatever he may be, or however he may be qualified for his rank, he now speaks to you, and of course can be no enemy to dread.’

The scout regarded Heyward in surprise, and then, lifting his cap, he answered, in a tone less confident than before, though still expressing doubt—

‘I have heard a party was to leave the encampment this morning for the lake shore?’