 Chapter 27 of The Last of the Mohicans, a narrative of 1757 by James Fennimore Cooper. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 27, quote, and I shall remember when Czar says, do this, it is performed, unquote, from Julius Caesar. The impatience of the savages who lingered about the prison of Uncus, as has been seen, had overcome their dread of the conjurer's breath. They stole cautiously and with beating hearts to a crevice through which the faint light of the fire was glimmering. For several minutes they mistook the form of David for that of the prisoner. But the very accident which Hawkeye had foreseen occurred. Tired of keeping the extremities of his long person so near together, the singer gradually suffered the lower limbs to extend themselves, until one of his misshapen feet actually came in contact with and shoved aside the embers of the fire. At first the Hurons believed the Delaware had been thus deformed by witchcraft. But when David, unconscious of being observed, turned his head and exposed his simple mild countenance in place of the haughty liniments of their prisoner, it would have exceeded the credulity of even a native to have doubted any longer. They rushed together into the lodge and, laying their hands, with but little ceremony, from their captive, immediately detected the imposition. Then arose the cry first heard by the fugitives. It was succeeded by the most frantic and angry demonstrations of vengeance. David, however, firm in his determination to cover the retreat of his friends, was compelled to believe that his own final hour had come. Deprived of his book and his pipe, he was feigned to trust to a memory that rarely failed him on such subjects. And breaking forth in a loud and impassioned strain, he endeavored to smooth his passage into the other world by singing the opening verse of a funeral anthem. The Indians were seasonably reminded of his infirmity, and rushing into the open air, they aroused the village in the manner described. A native warrior fights as he sleeps without the protection of anything defensive. The sounds of the alarm were, therefore, hardly uttered before two hundred men were afoot, and ready for the battle or the chase, as either might be required. The escape was soon known, and the whole tribe crowded in a body around the council lodge, impatiently awaiting the instruction of their chiefs. In such a sudden demand on their wisdom, the presence of the cunning Magua could scarcely fail of being needed. His name was mentioned, and all looked around in wonder that he did not appear. Messengers were then dispatched to his lodge, requiring his presence. In the meantime, some of the swiftest and most discreet of the young men were ordered to make the circuit of the clearing under cover of the woods in order to ascertain that their suspected neighbors, the Delaware's, designed no mischief. Women and children ran to and fro and, in short, the whole encampment exhibited another scene of wild and savage confusion. Gradually, however, these symptoms of disorder diminished, and in a few minutes the oldest and most distinguished chiefs were assembled in the lodge in grave consultation. The clamor of many voices soon announced that a party approached who might be expected to communicate some intelligence that would explain the mystery of the novel surprise. The crowd without gave way, and several warriors entered the place, bringing with them the hapless conjurer who had been left so long by the scout in duress. Notwithstanding this man was held in very unequal estimation among the Hurons, some believing implicitly in his power and others deeming him an impostor, he was now listened to by all with the deepest attention. When his brief story was ended, the father of the sick woman stepped forth, and, in a few pithy expression, related in his turn what he knew. These two narratives gave a proper direction to the subsequent inquiries which were now made with the characteristic cunning of savages. Instead of rushing in a confused and disorderly throng to the cavern, ten of the wisest and firmest among the chiefs were selected to prosecute the investigation. As no time was to be lost, the instant the choice was made, the individuals appointed rose in a body and left the place without speaking. On reaching the entrance, the younger men in advance made way for their seniors, and the hall proceeded along the low dark gallery with the firmness of warriors ready to devote themselves to the public good, though at the same time secretly doubting the nature of the power with which they were about to contend. The outer apartment of the cavern was silent and gloomy. The woman lay in her usual place and posture, though there were those present who affirmed that they had seen her born to the woods by the supposed medicine of the white men. Such a direct and palpable contradiction of the tale related by the father caused all eyes to be turned on him. Chafed by the silent imputation and inwardly troubled by so unaccountable a circumstance, the chief advanced to the side of the bed and stooping cast an incredulous look at the features as if distrusting their reality. His daughter was dead. The unerring feeling of nature for a moment prevailed, and the old warrior hid his eyes in sorrow. Then recovering his self-possession, he faced his companion, and pointing toward the corpse he said in the language of his people, �The wife of my young man has left us. The great spirit is angry with his children.� The mournful intelligence was received in solemn silence. After a short pause one of the elder Indians was about to speak when a dark-looking object was seen rolling out of an adjoining apartment into the very center of the room where they stood. Ignorant of the nature of the beings they had to deal with, the whole party drew back a little, and, rising on end, exhibited the distorted but still fierce and sullen features of Magwa. The discovery was seceded by a general exclamation of amazement. As soon, however, as the true situation of the chief was understood, several knives appeared and his limbs and tongue were quickly released. The Huron arose and shook himself like a lion quitting his lair. Not a word escaped him, though his hand played convulsively with the handle of his knife while his lowering eyes scanned the whole party as if they sought an object suited for the first burst of his vengeance. It was happy for Uncus and the Scout, and even David, that they were all beyond the reach of his arm at such a moment. For assuredly no refinement in cruelty would then have deferred their deaths. In opposition to the promptings of the fierce temper that nearly choked him, meeting everywhere faces that he knew as friends, the savage grated his teeth together like rasps of iron, and swallowed his passion for one of a victim on whom to vent it. This exhibition of anger was noted by all present, and from an apprehension of exasperating a temper that was already chafed nearly to madness several minutes were suffered to pass before another word was uttered, when, however, suitable time had elapsed the oldest of the party spoke. My friend has found an enemy, he said. Is he nigh that the Hurons might take revenge? Let the Delaware die, exclaimed Magwa in a voice of thunder. Another longer and expressive silence was observed and was broken as before with due precaution by the same individual. The Mohegan is swift afoot and leaps far, he said, but my young men are on his trail. Is he gone? Demanded Magwa in tone so deep and guttural that they seemed to proceed from his inmost chest. An evil spirit has been among us, and the Delaware has blinded our eyes. An evil spirit! Tis the spirit that has taken the life of so many Hurons! The spirit that slew my young men at the tumbling river, that took their scalps at the healing spring, and who has now bound the arms of Lerunad Subtil! Of whom does my friend speak? Of the dog who carries the heart and cutting off a Huron under a pale skin. The Lord Carabin! The pronunciation of so terrible a name produced the usual effect among his auditors, but when time was given for reflection, and the warriors remembered that their formidable and daring enemy had even been in the bosom of their encampment working injury. Fearful rage took the place of wonder, and all those fierce passions with which the bosom of Magwa had just been struggling were suddenly transferred to his companions. Some among them gnashed their teeth in anger, others vetted their feelings in yells, and some again beat the air as frantically as if the object of their resentment were suffering under their blows. But this sudden outbreaking of temper as quickly subsided in the still and sullen restraint they most effected in their moments of inaction. Magwa, who had in his turn found leisure for reflection, now changed his manner, and assumed the air of one who knew how to think and act with a dignity worthy of so grave a subject. Let us go, my people! he said. They wait for us! His companions consented in silence, and the whole of the savage party left the cavern and returned to the council lodge. When they were seated, all eyes turned on Magwa, who understood from such an indication that by common consent they had devolved the duty of relating what had passed on him. He arose and told his tale without duplicity or reservation. The whole deception practiced by both Duncan and Hawkeye was, of course, laid naked, when no room was found, even for the most superstitious of the tribe, any longer to affix a doubt on the character of the occurrences. It was but too apparent that they had been insultingly, shamefully, disgracefully deceived. When he had ended and resumed his seat, the collected tribe for his auditors in substance included all the fighting men of the party, sat regarding each other like men astonished equally at the audacity and the success of their enemies. The next consideration, however, was the means and opportunities for revenge. Additional pursuers were sent on the trail of the fugitives, and then the chiefs applied themselves in earnest to the business of consultation. Many different expedients were proposed by the elder warriors in succession, to all of which Maqua was a silent and respectful listener. The subtle savage had recovered his artifice and self-command, and now proceeded toward his object with his customary caution and skill. It was only when each one disposed to speak had uttered his sentiments that he prepared to advance his own opinions. They were given with additional weight, from the circumstance that some of the runners had already returned, and reported that their enemies had been traced so far as to leave no doubt of their having sought safety in the neighboring camp of their suspected allies, the Delaware's. With the advantage of possessing this important intelligence, the chief warily laid his plans before his fellows, and, as might have been anticipated from his eloquence and cunning, they were adopted without a descending voice. They were briefly as follows, both in opinions and in motives. It has already been stated that, in obedience to a policy rarely departed from, the sisters were separated so soon as they reached the Huron village. Maqua had early discovered that in retaining the person of Alice, he possessed the most effectual check on Korra. When they parted therefore, he kept the former within reach of his hand, consigning the one he most valued to the keeping of their allies. The arrangement was understood to be merely temporary, and was made as much with a view to flatter his neighbors as in obedience of the invariable rule of Indian policy. While goaded incessantly by these revengeful impulses that in a savage seldom slumber, the chief was still attentive to his more permanent personal interest. The follies and disloyalty committed in his youth were to be expiated by a long and painful penance, ere he could be restored to the full enjoyment of the confidence of his ancient people, and without confidence there could be no authority in an Indian tribe. In this delicate and arduous situation, the crafty native had neglected no means of increasing his influence, and one of the happiest of his expedience had been the success with which he had cultivated the favor of their powerful and dangerous neighbors. The result of this experiment had answered all the expectations of his policy, for the Hurons were in no degree exempt from that governing principle of nature, which induces man to value his gifts precisely in the degree that they are appreciated by others. But while he was making this ostensible sacrifice to general considerations, Makhwa never lost sight of his individual motives. The latter had been frustrated by the unlooked-for events which had placed all his prisoners beyond his control, and he now found himself reduced to the necessity of suing for favors to those whom it had so lately been his policy to oblige. Several of the chiefs had proposed deep and treacherous schemes to surprise the Delaware's, and by gaining possession of their camp to recover their prisoners by the same blow, for all agreed that their honor, their interest, and the peace and happiness of their dead countrymen imperiously required them speedily to emulate some victims to their revenge. But planned so dangerous to attempt, and of such doubtful issue, Makhwa found little difficulty in defeating. He exposed their risk and fallacy with his usual skill, and it was only after he had removed every impediment in the shape of opposing advice that he ventured to propose his own projects. He commenced by flattering the self-love of his auditors, a never-failing method of commanding attention. When he had enumerated the many different occasions on which the Hurons had exhibited their courage and prowess, in the punishment of insults, he digressed in a high anconium on the virtue of wisdom. He painted the quality as forming the great point of difference between the beaver and other brutes, between the brutes and men, and finally between the Hurons in particular, and the rest of the human race. After he had sufficiently extolled the property of discretion, he undertook to exhibit in what manner its use was applicable to the present situation of their tribe. On the one hand he said, was their great pale father, the governor of the Canada's, who had looked upon his children with a hard eye since their tomahawks had been so red. On the other, a people as numerous as themselves, who spoke a different language, possessed different interests, and loved them not, and who would be glad of any pretence to bring them in disgrace with the great white chief. Then he spoke of their necessities, of the gifts they had a right to expect for their past services, of their distance from their proper hunting grounds and native villages, and of the necessity of consulting prudence more and inclination less in so critical circumstances. When he perceived that while the old man applauded his moderation, many of the fiercest and most distinguished of the warriors listened to these politic plans with lowering looks, he cunningly led them back to the subject which they most loved. He spoke openly of the fruits of their wisdom, which he boldly pronounced would be a complete and final triumph over their enemies. He even darkly hinted that their success might be extended with proper caution in such a manner as to include the destruction of all whom they had reason to hate. In short, he so blended the warlike with the artful, the obvious with the obscure, as to flatter the propensities of both parties, and to leave to each subject of hope, one neither could say it clearly comprehended his intentions. The orator or the politician who can produce such a state of things is commonly popular with his contemporaries, however he may be treated by posterity. All perceived that more was meant than was uttered, and each one believed that the hidden meaning was precisely such as his own faculties enabled him to understand, or his own wishes led him to anticipate. In this happy state of things, it is not surprising that the management of Makwa prevailed. The tribe consented to act with deliberation, and with one voice they committed the direction of the whole affair to the government of the chief who had suggested such wise and intelligible expedience. Makwa had now attained one great object of all his cunning and enterprise. The ground he had lost in the favor of his people was completely regained, and he found himself even placed at the head of affairs. He was, in truth, their ruler. And so long as he could maintain his popularity, no monarch could be more despotic, especially while the tribe continued in a hostile territory. Going off, therefore, the appearance of consultation, he assumed the grave air of authority necessary to support the dignity of his office. Runners were dispatched for intelligence in different directions, spies were ordered to approach and feel the encampment of the Delaware's, that warriors were dismissed to their lodges with an intimation that their services would soon be needed, and the women and children were ordered to retire with a warning that it was their province to be silent. When these several arrangements were made, Makwa passed through the village stopping here and there to pay a visit where he thought his presence might be flattering to the individual. He confirmed his friends in their confidence, fixed the wavering, and gratified all. Then he sought his own lodge. The wife the Huron chief had abandoned when he was chased from among his people was dead. Children he had none, and he now occupied a hut without companion of any sort. It was, in fact, the dilapidated and solitary structure in which David had been discovered, and whom he had tolerated in his presence on those very few occasions when they met, with the contemptuous indifference of haughty superiority. Hither then Makwa retired when his labors of policy were ended. While others slept, however, he neither knew or sought repose. Had there been one sufficiently curious to have watched the movements of the newly elected chief, he would have seen him seated in a corner of his lodge, musing on the subject of his future plans, from the hour of his retirement to the time he had appointed for the warriors to assemble again. Occasionally the air breathed through the crevices of the hut and the low flame that fluttered about the members of the fire through their wavering light on the person of the sullen recluse. At such moments it would not have been difficult to have fancied the dusky savage, the Prince of Darkness, brooding on his own fancied wrongs and plotting evil. Long before the day dawned, however, warrior after warrior entered the solitary hut of Makwa until they had collected to the number of twenty. Each bore his rifle and all the other accoutrements of war, though the paint was uniformly peaceful. The entrance of these fierce-looking beings was unnoticed. Some seating themselves in the shadows of the place, and others standing like motionless statues, until the whole of the designated band was collected. Then Makwa arose and gave the signal to proceed. Marching himself in advance, they followed their leader singly and in that well-known order which has obtained the distinguished appellation of Indian file. Unlike other men engaged in the spirit-stirring business of war, they stole from their camp, unauthenticiously and unobserved, resembling a band of gliding specters, more than warriors seeking the bubble reputation by deeds of desperate daring. Instead of taking the path which led directly toward the camp of the Delaware's, Makwa led his party for some distance down the windings of the stream and along the little artificial lake of the beavers. The day began to dawn as they entered the clearing which had been formed by those sagacious and industrious animals. The Makwa, who had resumed his ancient garb bore the outline of a fox on the dressed skin which formed his robe. There was one chief of his party who carried the beaver as his peculiar symbol or totem. There would have been a species of profanity in the omission had this man passed so powerful a community of his fancy kindred without bestowing some evidence of his regard. Accordingly he paused and spoke in words, as kind and friendly as if he were addressing more intelligent beings. He called the animals his cousins and reminded them that his protecting influence was the reason they remained unharmed while many avaricious traitors were prompting the Indians to take their lives. He promised a continuance of his favors and admonished them to be grateful. After which he spoke of the expedition in which he was himself engaged and intimated, though with sufficient delicacy in circumlocution, the expediency of bestowing on their relative a portion of that wisdom for which they were so renowned. Footnote. These harangues of the beasts were frequent among the Indians. They often addressed their victims in this way, reproaching them for cowardice or commending their resolution as they may happen to exhibit fortitude or the reverse in suffering. End footnote. During the utterance of this extraordinary address the companions of the speaker were as grave and as attentive to his language as though they were all equally impressed with its propriety. Once or twice black objects were seen rising to the surface of the water and the Huron expressed pleasure conceiving that his words were not bestowed in vain. Just as he ended his address, the head of a large beaver was thrust from the door of a lodge whose earthen walls had been much injured and which the party had believed from its situation to be uninhabited. Such an extraordinary sign of confidence was received by the orator as a highly favorable omen, and though the animal retreated a little precipitately, he was lavish on his thanks and commendations. When Makhwa thought sufficient time had been lost in gratifying the family affection of the warrior he again made the signal to proceed as the Indians moved away in a body and with a step that would have been inaudible to the ears of any common man. The same venerable looking beaver once more ventured his head from its cover. Had any of the Hurons turned to look behind them they would have seen the animal watching their movements with an interest and sagacity that might easily have been mistaken for reason. Indeed so very distinct and intelligible were the devices of the quadruped that even the most experienced observer would have been at a loss to account for its actions, until the moment when the party entered the forest, when the whole would have been explained by seeing the entire animal issue from the lodge uncasing by the act the grave features of Chinchkachkuk from his mask of fur. End of Chapter 27. This reading by Gary W. Sherwin in the winter of 2007. Chapter 28 of The Last of the Mohicans. A narrative of 1757 by James Fenimore Cooper. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Chapter 28. Brief I pray you, for you see, tis a busy time with me. From Machadoob about nothing. The tribe or rather half-tribe of Delaware's, which has been so often mentioned, and whose present place of encampment was so nigh the temporary village of the Hurons, could assemble about an equal number of warriors with the latter people. Like their neighbors, they had followed Montcalm into the territories of English crown, and were making heavy and serious inroads on the hunting grounds of the Mohawks. Though they had seen fit with the mysterious reserve so common among the natives, to withhold their assistance at the moment when it was most required. The French had accounted for this unexpected defection on the part of their ally in various ways. It was the prevalent opinion, however, that they had been influenced by the veneration for the ancient treaty that had once made them dependent on the six nations for military protection, and now rendered them reluctant to encounter their former masters. As for the tribe itself, it had been content to announce to Montcalm through his emissaries, with Indian brevity, that their hatchets were dull, and time was necessary to sharpen them. The politic captain of the Canada's had deemed it wiser to submit to entertain a passive friend than by acts of ill-judged severity to convert him into an open enemy. On that morning, when Magwa led his silent party from the settlement of the beavers into the forest in the manner described, the sun rose upon the Delaware encampment, as if it had suddenly burst upon a busy people, actively employed in all the customary avocations of High Noon. The woman ran from lodge to lodge, some engaged in preparing their morning's meal, a few earnestly bent on seeking the comforts necessary to their habits, but more pausing to exchange hasty and whispered sentences with their friends. The warriors were lounging in groups, musing more than they conversed, and then a few words were uttered. Speaking like men who deeply weighed their opinions, the instruments of the chase were to be seen in abundance among the lodges, but none departed. Here and there a warrior was examining his arms, with an attention that is rarely bestowed on the implements, when no other enemy than the beast of the forest is expected to be encountered. And occasionally the eyes of a whole group were turned simultaneously toward a large and silent lodge in the center of the village, as if it contained the subject of their common thoughts. In the existence of this scene a man suddenly appeared that the furthest extremity of a platform of rock which formed the level of the village. He was without arms, and his paint tended rather to soften than increase the natural sternness of his austere countenance. When in full view of the Delaware's he stopped and made a gesture of amity by throwing his arm upward toward heaven and then letting it fall impressively on his breast. The inhabitants of the village answered his salute by a low murmur of welcome and encouraged him to advance by similar indications of friendship. Fortified by these assurances the dark figure left the brow of the rocky terrace, where it had stood for a moment, drawn in a strong outline against the blushing morning sky, and moved with dignity into the very center of the huts. As he approached nothing was audible but the rattling of the light silver ornaments that loaded his arms and neck, and the tinkling of the little bells that fringed his deerskin moccasins. He made, as he advanced, many courteous signs of greeting to the men he passed, neglecting to notice the woman, however, like one who deemed their favor in the present enterprise of no importance. When he had reached the group in which it was evident by the haughtiness of their common mean that the principal chiefs were collected, the stranger paused, and then the Delaware saw that the active and erect form that stood before them was that of the well-known Huron chief, Lateronard Septille. His reception was grave, silent, and wary. The warriors in front stepped aside, opening the way to their most approved orator by the action. One who spoke all those languages that were cultivated among the northern aborigines. The wise Huron is welcome, said the Delaware in the language of the Mockwoods. He has come to eat his succotash with his brothers of the lakes. Footnote. A dish composed of cracked corn and beans, it is much used also by the whites, but corn is meant maize. And footnote. He has come, repeated Mockwood, bending his head with the dignity of an eastern prince. The chief extended his arm, and taking the other by the wrists they once more exchanged friendly salutations. Then the Delaware invited his guests to enter his own lodge and share his morning meal. The invitation was accepted, and the two warriors, attended by three or four of the old men, walked calmly away, leaving the rest of the tribe devired by a desire to understand the reasons of so unusual a visit, and yet not betraying the least impatience by sign or word. During the short and frugal repass that followed, the conversation was extremely circumspect, and related entirely to the events of the hunt in which Mokwa had so lately been engaged. It would have been impossible for the most finished breeding to wear more of the appearance of considering the visit as a thing of course, than did his host, notwithstanding every individual present, was perfectly aware that it must be connected with some secret object, and that probably of importance to themselves. When the appetites of the whole were appeased, the squaws removed the trenchers and gourds, and the two parties began to prepare themselves for a subtle trial of their wits. Is the face of my great Canada father turned again toward his Huron children? demanded the orator of the Delaware's. When was it ever otherwise? returned Mokwa. He calls my people most beloved. The Delaware graciously bowed his acquiescence to what he knew to be false, and continued, that Tomahawks of your young men have been very red. It is so, but they are now bright and dull, for the Yan Yees are dead, and the Delaware's are our neighbors. The other acknowledged the Pacific compliment by a gesture of the hand and remained silent. Then Mokwa, as if recalled to such a recollection by the allusion to the massacre demanded. Does my prisoner give trouble to my brothers? She is welcome. The path between the Hurons and the Delaware's is short, and it is open. Let her be sent to my squaws if she gives trouble to my brother. She is welcome. Returned the chief of the latter nation, still more emphatically. The baffled Mokwa continued silent several minutes. Apparently indifferent, however, to the repulse he had received in his opening effort to regain possession of Korah. Do my young men leave the Delaware's room on the mountains for their hunts? He at length continued. The Lannopies are rulers of their own hills. Returned the other a little haughtily. It is well, just as is the master of a red skin. Why should they brighten their tomahawks and sharpen their knives against each other? Are not the pale faces thicker than the swallows in the season of the flowers? Good, exclaimed two or three of his auditors at the same time. Mokwa waited a little to permit his words to soften the feelings of the Delaware's before he added. Have there not been strange moccasins in the woods? Have not my brothers said a defeat of white men? Let my Canada father come, returned the other evasively. His children are ready to see him. When the great chief comes it is to smoke with the Indians in their wigwams. The Huron say too, he is welcome, but the Yengis have long arms and legs that never tire. My young men dreamed that they had seen the trail the Yengis nigh the village of the Delaware's. They will not find the Lennipie asleep. It is well the warrior whose eye is open can see his enemy, said Mokwa, once more shifting his ground when he found himself unable to penetrate the caution of his companion. I have brought gifts to my brother. His nation would not go on the war-path because they did not think it well. But their friends have remembered where they lived. When he had thus announced his liberal intention, the crafty chief arose and gravely spread his presence before the dazzled eyes of his host. They consisted principally of trinkets of little value, plundered from the slaughtered females of William Henry. In the division of the baubles the cunning Huron discovered no less art than in their selection. While he bestowed those of greater value on the two most distinguished warriors, one of whom was his host, he seasoned his offerings to their inferiors with such well-timed and opposite compliments as left them no ground of complaint. In short, the whole ceremony contained such a happy blending of the profitable with the flattering that it was not difficult for the donor immediately to read the effect of a generosity so aptly mingled with praise in the eyes of those he addressed. This well-judged and politic stroke on the part of Maqua was not without instantaneous results. The Delaware's lost their gravity in a much more cordial expression, and the host in particular, after contemplating his own liberal share of the spoil, for some moments with peculiar gratification, repeated with strong emphasis the words, My brother is a wise chief. He is welcome. The Hurons loved their friends the Delaware's. Returned Maqua. Why should they not? They are colored by the same sun, and their just men will hunt in the same grounds after death. The redskins should be friends, and look with open eyes on the white man. Has not my brother scented spies in the woods? The Delaware, whose name in English signified, hard heart, an appellation that the French had translated in l'écrudeur, forgot that obduracy of purpose, which had probably obtained him so significant a title. His countenance grew very sensibly less stern, and he now deigned to answer more directly. There have been strange moccasins about my camp. They have been tracked into my lodges. Did my brother beat out the dogs? Asked Maqua, without adverting in any manner to the former equivocation of the chief. It would not do. The stranger is always welcome to the children of Valenipi. The stranger, but not the spy. Would the Yengis send their women as spies? Did not the Huron chief say he took women in the battle? He told no lie. The Yengis have sent out their scouts. They have been in my wigwums, but they found there no one to say welcome. Then they fled to the Delaware's fore, say they. The Delaware's are our friends. Their minds are turned from their Canada father. The insinuation was a home thrust, and one that in a more advanced state of society would have entitled Maqua to the reputation of a skillful diplomatist. The recent defection of the tribe had, as they well knew themselves, subjected the Delaware's to much reproach among their French allies, and they were now made to feel that their future actions were to be regarded with jealousy and distrust. There was no deep insight into causes and effects necessary to foresee that such a situation of things was likely to prove highly prejudicial to their future movements. Their distant villages, their hunting grounds, and hundreds of their women and children, together with a material part of their physical force, were actually within the limits of the French territory. Accordingly this alarming annunciation was received, as Maqua intended, with manifest disapprobation, if not with alarm. Let my father look in my face, said Lecourdeur. He will see no change. It is true. My young men did not go out on the war-path. They had dreams for not doing so. But they love and venerate the great white chief. Well, he thinks so, when he hears that his greatest enemy is fed in the camp of his children, when he is told a bloody Yankee smokes at your fire, and the fail-face, who has slain so many of his friends, goes in and out among the Delaware's. Go, my great Canada father, is not a fool. Where is the Yankee that the Delaware's fear, returned the other, who has slain my young men? Who is the mortal enemy of my great father? The longed Caribbean! The Delaware warriors started at the well-known name, betraying by their amazement that they had now learned for the first time one so famous among the Indian allies of France was within their power. What does my brother mean? demanded Lecourdeur. In a tone that by its wonder far exceeded the usual apathy of his race. I, your honor, never lies! returned Maqua coldly, leaning his head against the side of the lodge, and drawing his slight robe across his tawny breasts. Let the Delaware's counter-prisoners! They will find one who skinned his neither red nor pale. A long and musing pause seceded. The chief consulted apart with his companions, and messengers dispatched to collect certain others of the most distinguished men of the tribe. As warrior after warrior dropped in, they were each made acquainted in turn with the important intelligence that Maqua had just communicated. The air of surprise and the usual low deep guttural exclamation were common to them all. This news spread from mouth to mouth until the whole encampment became powerfully agitated. The women suspended their labors to catch such syllables as unguardedly fell from the lips of the consulting warriors. The boys deserted their sports, and walking fearlessly among their fathers looked up in curious admiration. As they heard the brief exclamations of wonder, they so freely expressed the temerity of their hated foe. In short, every occupation was abandoned for the time, and all other pursuits seemed discarded in order that the tribe might freely indulge, after their own peculiar manner, in an open expression of feeling. When the excitement had a little abated, the old men disposed themselves seriously to consider that which became the honor and safety of their tribe to perform under circumstances of so much delicacy and embarrassment. During all these movements and in the midst of the general commotion, Maqua had not only maintained his seat, but the very attitude he had originally taken against the side of the lodge, where he continued as immovable and apparently as unconcerned as if he had no interest in the result. Not a single indication of the future intentions of his host, however, escaped his vigilant eyes. With his consummate knowledge of the nature of the people with whom he had to deal, he anticipated every measure on which they decided, and it might almost be said that in many instances he knew their intentions even before they became known to themselves. The Council of the Delaware's was short. When it was ended, a general bustle announced that it was to be immediately seceded by a solemn and formal assemblage of the nation. As such meetings are rare and only called on occasions of the last importance, the subtle Huron who still set apart a wily and dark observer of the proceedings now knew that all his projects must be brought to their final issue. He therefore left the lodge and walked silently forth to the place in front of the encampment, whether their warriors were already beginning to collect. It might have been half an hour before each individual, including even the women and children, was in his place. The delay had been created by the grave preparations that were deemed necessary to so solemn and unusual a conference. But when the sun was seen climbing above the tops of that mountain, against whose bosom the Delaware's had constructed their encampment, most were seated, and his bright rays darted from behind the outline of trees that fringed the eminence. They fell upon as grave and as attentive, and as deeply interested a multitude, as was probably ever before lighted by his morning beams. Its number somewhat exceeded a thousand souls. In a collection of so serious savages, there is never to be found any impatient aspirant after premature distinction, standing ready to move his auditors to some hasty and perhaps injudicious discussion in order that his own reputation might be the gainer. An act of so much precipitancy and presumption would seal the downfall of precocious intellect forever. It rested solely on the oldest and most experienced of the men to lay the subject of the conference before the people. Until such a one arose to make some movement, no deeds in arms, no natural gifts, nor any renown as an orator, would have justified the slightest interruption. On the present occasion the aged warrior whose privilege it was to speak was silent, seemingly oppressed with the magnitude of his subject. The delay had already continued long beyond the usual deliberative pause that always preceded a conference, but no sign of impatience or surprise escaped even the youngest boy. Suddenly an eye was raised from the earth, where the looks of most were riveted, and strayed toward a particular lodge that was, however, in no manner distinguished from those around it, except in the peculiar care that had been taken to protect it against the assaults of the weather. At length one of those low murmurs that are so apt to disturb a multitude was heard, and the whole nation arose to their feet by a common impulse. At that instant the door of the lodge in question opened, and three men issuing from it slowly approached the place of consultation. They were all aged, even beyond that period to which the oldest present had reached. But one in the center, who leaned on his companions for support, had numbered an amount of years to which the human race is seldom permitted to attain. This frame, which had once been tall and erect like the cedar, was now bending under the pressure of more than a century. The elastic light step of an Indian was gone, and in its place he was compelled to toil his tardy way over the ground inch by inch. His dark wrinkled countens was in singular and wild contrast to the long white locks which floated on his shoulders, in such thickness as to announce that generations had probably passed away since they had last been shorn. The dress of this patriarch, for such considering his vast age in conjunction with his affinity and influence with his people, he might very properly be turned, was rich and imposing, though strictly after the simple fashions of the tribe. His robe was of the finest skins, which had been deprived of the fur in order to admit of a hieroglyphical representation of various deeds and arms done in former ages. His bosom was loaded with metals, some in massive silver, and one or two even in gold. The gifts of various Christian potentates during the long period of his life. He also wore armlets and sinctures above the ankles, and the latter precious metal. His head on the hull which, the hair, had been permitted to grow. The pursuits of war having so long been abandoned, was encircled by a sort of plated diadem, which in turn bore lesser and more glittering ornaments that sparkled amid the glossy hues of three drooping ostrich feathers, dyed a deep black in touching contrast to the color of his snow white locks. This tomahawk was nearly hid in silver, and the handle of his knife shone like a horn of solid gold. So soon as the first hum of emotion and pleasure, which the sudden appearance of this venerated individual created, had a little society, the name of Tamanund, was whispered from mouth to mouth. Magwa had often heard the fame of this wise and just Delaware, a reputation that even preceded so far as to bestow on him the rare gift of holding secret communion with the great spirit, and which has since transmitted his name with some slight alteration to the white usurpers of his ancient territory, as the imaginary tutelor saint of a vast empire. The American sometimes called their tutelor saint, Tamanay, a corruption of the name of the renowned chief here introduced. There are many traditions which speak of the character and power of Tamanund, and footnote. The Huron chief, therefore, stepped eagerly out a little from the throng, to a spot once he might catch a near glimpse of the features of the man whose decision was likely to produce so deep an influence on his own fortunes. The eyes of the old man were closed, as though the organs were worried with having so long witnessed the selfish workings of human passions. The color of his skin differed from that of most around him, being richer and darker, the latter having been produced by certain delicate and mazy lines of complicated and yet beautiful figures which had been traced over most of his person by the operation of tattooing. Notwithstanding the position of the Huron, he passed the observant in silent maqua without notice, and leaning on his two venerable supporters proceeded to the high place of the multitude, where he seated himself in the center of his nation, with the dignity of a monarch and the heir of a father. Nothing could surpass the reverence and affection with which this unexpected visit from one who belongs rather to another world than to this was received by his people. After a suitable and decent pause, the principal chiefs arose, and approaching the patriarch they placed his hands reverently on their heads, seeming to entreat a blessing. The younger men were content with touching his robe, or even drawing nigh his person in order to breathe in the atmosphere of one so aged, so just, and so valiant. But the most distinguished among the youthful warriors even presumed so far as to perform the latter ceremony. The great mass of the multitude, deeming it a sufficient happiness to look upon a form so deeply venerated and so well beloved. When these acts of affection and respect were performed, the chiefs drew back again to their several places. In silence reigned in the whole encampment. After a short delay, a few of the young men to whom instructions had been whispered by one of the aged attendants ataminant, arose, left the crowd, and entered the lodge which has already been noted as the object of so much attention throughout that morning. In a few minutes they reappeared, escorting the individuals who had caused all these solemn preparation toward the seat of judgment. The crowd opened in a lane, and when the party had re-entered, it closed in again, forming a large and dense belt of human bodies arranged in an open circle. End of Chapter 28 This reading by Gary W. Sherwin of Yukon, Pennsylvania into winter of 2007 Chapter 29 of The Last of the Mohicans A narrative of 1757 by James Fenimore Cooper This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org Chapter 29 Quote The assembly seated, rising o'er the rest, Achilles thus the king of men addressed. Unquote from Pope's Iliad. Cora stood foremost among the prisoners, entwining her arms in those of Alice in the tenderness of sisterly love. Notwithstanding the fearful and menacing array of savages on every side of her, no apprehension on her own account could prevent the nobler-minded maiden from keeping her eyes fastened on the pale and anxious features of the trembling Alice. Close at their side stood Hayward, with an interest in both, that at such a moment of intense uncertainty scarcely knew a preponderance in favor of her whom he most loved. Hawkeye had placed himself a little in the rear, with a deference to the superior rank of his companions, that no similarity in the state of their present fortunes could induce him to forget. Uncus was not there. When perfect silence was again restored and after the usual long impressive pause, one of the two aged chiefs who sat at the side of the patriarch arose and demanded aloud, in very intelligible English, Which of my prisoners is lay long, Caribbean? Neither Duncan nor the Scout answered. The former, however, glanced his eyes around the dark and silent assembly and recoiled a pace when they fell on the malignant visage of Magwa. He saw at once that this wily savage had some secret agency in their present arraignment before the nation and determined to throw every possible impediment in the way of execution of his sinister plans. He had witnessed one instance of the summary punishments of the Indians, and now dreaded that his companion was to be selected for a second. In this dilemma, with little or no time for reflection, he suddenly determined to cloak his invaluable friend at every and every hazard to himself. Before he had time, however, to speak, the question was repeated in a louder voice and with a clearer utterance. Give us arms, the young man haughtily replied, and place us in yonder woods. Our deej shall speak for us. This is the warrior whose name has filled our ears, returned the chief regarding Hayward with that sort of curious interest which seems inseparable for man when first beholding one of his fellows to whom merit or accident, virtue or crime has given notoriety. What has brought the white man into the camp of the Delaware's? My necessities, I come for food, shelter, and friends. It cannot be the woods are full of game. The head of a warrior needs no other shelter than a sky without clouds, and the Delaware's are the enemies and not the friends of the Yankees. Go, the mouth has spoken while the heart said nothing. Duncan, a little at a loss in whatever manner to proceed, remained silent, but the scout, who had listened attentively to all that passed, now advanced steadily to the front. That I did not answer to the call for la long carbine was not owning either to shame or fear, he said, for neither one nor the other is the gift of an honest man. But I do not admit to the right of the Mingoes to bestow a name on one whose friends have been mindful of his gifts, in this particular especially as their title is a lie, Kildere being a grooved barrel and no carabine. I am the man, however, that got the name of Nathaniel from my kin, the compliment of Hawkeye from the Delaware's who live on their own river, and whom the Iroquois have presumed to style the long rifle without any warranty from him who is most concerned in the matter. The eyes of all present, which had hitherto been gravely scanning the person of Duncan, were now turned on the instant toward the upright iron frame of this new pretender to the distinguished appellation. It was in no degree remarkable that there should be found to whom were willing to claim so great an honor. For impostors, though rare, were not unknown among the natives. But it was altogether material to the just and severe intentions of the Delaware that there should be no mistake in the matter. Some of their old men consulted together in private, and then, as it would seem, they determined to interrogate their visitor on the subject. My brother has said that a snake crept into my camp, said the chief to Mawkwa. Which is he? The Huron pointed to the scout. Willow-wise Delaware believed the barking of a wolf, exclaimed Duncan, still more confirmed than the evil intentions of his ancient enemy. A dog never lies. But when was a wolf known to speak the truth? The eyes of Mawkwa flashed fire, but suddenly, recollecting the necessity of maintaining his presence of mind, he turned away in silent disdain. Well assured that the sagacity of the Indians would not fail to extract the real merits of the point in controversy. He was not deceived. For after another short consultation, the wary Delaware turned to him again, and expressed the determination of the chiefs, though in the most considerate language. My brother has been called a liar, he said, and his friends are angry. They will show that he has spoken the truth, give my prisoner's guns, and let them prove which is the man. Mawkwa affected to consider the expedient, which he well knew proceeded from distrust of himself, as a compliment, and made a gesture of acquiescence. Well content that his veracity should be supported by so skillful a marksman as the scout. The weapons were instantly placed in the hands of the friendly opponents, and they were bid to fire over the heads of the seated multitude at an earthen vessel which lay, by accident, on a stump, some fifty yards from the place where they stood. Hayward smiled to himself at the idea of a competition with the scout, though he determined to persevere in the deception until a prize to the real designs of Mawkwa. Raising his rifle with the utmost care, and renewing his aim three several times, he fired. The bullet cut the wood within a few inches of the vessel, and a general exclamation of satisfaction announced that the shot was considered a proof of great skill in the use of a weapon. And Hawkeye nodded his head, as if he would say, it was better than he expected. But instead of manifesting an intention to contend with the successful marksman, he stood leaning on his rifle for more than a minute, like a man who was completely buried in thought. From his reverie he was, however, awakened by one of the young Indians who had furnished the arms, and who now touched his shoulder, saying in exceedingly broken English, can the pale face beat it? Yes, Huron, exclaimed the scout, raising the short rifle in his right hand, and shaking it at Mawkwa, with as much apparent ease as if it were a reed. Yes, Huron, I could strike you now, and no power on earth could prevent the deed. The soaring hawk is no more certain of the dove than I am this moment of you. Did I choose to send a bullet to your heart? Why should I not? Why? Because the gifts of my color forbid it, and I might draw down evil on tender and innocent heads. If you know such a being as God, thank him, therefore, in your inward soul, for you have reason. The flush countenance, angry eye, and swelling figure of the scout produced a sensation of secret awe in all that heard him. The Delaware's held their breath in expectation. But Mawkwa himself, even while he distrusted the forbearance of his enemy, remained immovable and calm, where he stood wedged in by the crowd, as one who grew to the spot. Beat it! repeated the young Delaware at the elbow of the scout. Beat what? Fool? What? exclaimed Hawkeye, still flourishing the weapon angrily above his head. Though his eye no longer sought the person of Mawkwa. If the white man is the warrior, he pretends, said the age-achief, let him strike nigher to the mark. The scout laughed aloud, a noise that produced the startling effect of an unnatural sound on Hayward. When dropping the piece heavily into the extended left hand, it was discharged, apparently by the shock, driving the fragments of the vessel into the air and scattering them on every side. Almost at the same instant, the rattling sound of the rifle was heard as he suffered it to fall contemptuously to the earth. The first impression of so strange a scene was in grossing admiration. Then a low but increasing murmur ran through the multitude and finally swelled into sounds that denoted a lively opposition in the sentiments of the spectators. While some openly testified their satisfaction at so unexampled dexterity, by far the larger portion of the tribe were inclined to believe the success of the shot was the result of accident. Hayward was not slow to confirm an opinion that was so favorable to his own pretensions. It was chance, he exclaimed. None can shoot without an aim. Chance echoed the excited woodsman, who is now stubbornly bent on maintaining his identity at every hazard, and on whom the secret hints of Hayward to acquiesce in the deception were entirely lost. Does yonder lying hereon too think it chance? Give him another gun and place us face to face, without cover or dodge, and let providence and our own eyes decide the matter between us. I do not make the offer to you, major, for our blood is of a color, and we serve the same master. That the hereon is a liar is very evident, returned Hayward Cooley. You have yourself heard him assert you to be La Long Carabine. It were impossible to say what violent assertion the stubborn Hawkeye would have next made in his headlong wish to vindicate his identity, had not the agent Delaware once more interposed. The hawk, which comes from the clouds, can return when he will, he said. Give them the guns. This time the scout seized the rifle with avidity, nor had Mokwad, though he watched the movements of the marksmen with jealous eyes, any further cause for apprehension. Now let it be proved in the face of this tribe of Delaware's, which is the better man, cried the scout, tapping the butt of his piece with that finger which had pulled so many fatal triggers. You see that gourd hanging against yonder tree, major? If you are a marksman fit for the borders, let me see you break its shell. The guard noted the object and prepared himself to renew the trial. The gourd was one of the usual little vessels used by the Indians, and it was suspended from a dead branch of a small pine by a thong of deerskin at the full distance of a hundred yards. So strangely compounded is the feeling of self-love that the young soldier, while he knew the utter worthlessness of the suffrages of his savage umpires, forgot the sudden motives of the contest in which to excel. It had been seen already that his skill was far from being contemptible, and he now resolved to put forth its nicest qualities. Had his life depended on the issue, the aim of Duncan could not have been more deliberate or guarded. He fired, and three or four young Indians who sprang forward at the report announced with a shout that the ball was in the tree, a very little on one side of the proper object. The warriors uttered a common ejaculation of pleasure, and then turned their eyes inquiringly on the movements of his rival. It may do for the royal Americans, said Hawkeye, laughing once more in his own silent, heartfelt manner. But had my gun often turned so much from the true line, many a Martin, whose skin is now in a lady's muff, would still be in the woods, I, and many a bloody Mingo, who is departed to his final account, would be acting his devil-trees at this very day between the provinces. I hope the squall who owns the gourd has more them in her wigwam, for this will never hold water again. The scout had shook his priming and cocked his piece while speaking, and as he ended, he threw back a foot and slowly raised the muzzle from the earth. The motion was steady, uniform, and in one direction. When on a perfect level, it remained for a single moment without tremor or variation, as though both man and the rifle were carved in stone. During that station instant, it poured forth its contents in a bright, glancing sheet of flame. Again the young Indians bounded forward, but their hurried search and disappointed looks announced that no traces of the bullet were to be seen. Go, said the old chief to the scout, in a tone of strong distrust. Thou art a wolf in the skin of a dog. I will talk to the long rifle of the Yankees. Ah, had I that piece which furnished the name you use, I would obligate myself to cut the thong and drop the gourd without breaking it, returned Hawkeye, perfectly undisturbed by the other's manner. Fools, if you would find the bullet of a sharpshooter in these woods, you must look in the object and not around it. The Indian youths instantly comprehended his meaning. For this time he spoke in the Delaware tongue, and tearing the gourd from the tree, they held it on high with an exulting shelt, displaying a hole in its bottom which had been cut by the bullet after passing through the usual orifice in the center of its upper side. At this unexpected exhibition, a loud and vehement expression of pleasure burst from the mouth of every warrior present. It decided the question and defectually established Hawkeye in the possession of his dangerous reputation. Those curious and admiring eyes which had been turned again on Hayward were finally directed to the weather-beaten form of the scout, who immediately became the principal object of attention to the simple and unsophisticated beings by whom he was surrounded. When the sudden and noisy commotion had a little subsided, the age of chief resumed his examination. Why did you wish to stop my ears? he said, addressing Duncan. Are the Delaware's fools that they could not know the young Panther from the cat? They will yet find the Huron a singing bird, said Duncan, endeavoring to adopt the figurative language of the natives. It is good. We will know who can shut the ears of men, brother," added the chief, turning his eyes on Mokwa. The Delaware's, listen! Thus singled and directly called on to declare his object, the Huron arose, and advancing with great deliberation and dignity into the very center of the circle where he stood confronted by the prisoners, he placed himself in an attitude to speak. Before opening his mouth, however, he bent his eyes slowly among the whole living boundary of earnest faces, as if to temper his expressions to the capabilities of his audience. On Hawkeye he cast a glance of respectful enmity. On Duncan a look of inextinguishable hatred. The shrinking figure of Alice, he scarcely deigned to notice, but when his glance met the firm commanding and yet lovely form of Quora, his eye lingered a moment, with an expression that might have been difficult to define. Then, filled with his own dark detentions, he spoke in the language of the Canada's, a tongue that he knew well was comprehended by most of his auditors. The spirit that made men colored them differently commenced the subtle Huron. Some are blacker than the sluggish bear, these, he said, should be slaves, and he ordered them to work forever like the beaver. You may hear them groan when the south wind blows, louder than the lowing buffaloes along the shores of the Great Lake, where the big canoes come and go with them in droves. Some he made with faces paler than the ermine of the forest, and these he ordered to be traitors, dogs to their woman, and wolves to their slaves. He gave this people the nature of the pigeon, wings that never tire, young more plentiful than the leaves of the trees, and appetites to devour the earth. He gave them tongues like the false call of the wildcat, hearts like rabbits, the cunning of the hog, but none of the fox, and arms longer than the legs of the moose. With his tongue he stops the ears of the Indians. His heart teaches him to pay warriors to fight his battles. His cunning tells him how to get together the goods of the earth, and his arms enclose the land from the shores of the saltwater to the islands of the Great Lake. His gluttony makes him sick. God gave him enough, and yet he wants all. Such are the pale faces. Some the Great Spirit made with skins brighter and redder than yonder sun, continued Mokwa, pointing impressively upward to the lurid luminary, which was struggling through the misty atmosphere of the horizon. And these did he fashion to his own mind. He gave them his island as he had made it, covered with trees, and filled with game. The wind made their clearings, the sun and rain ripened their fruits, and the snows came to tell them to be thankful. What need had they of roads to journey by? They saw through the hills. When the beavers worked they lay in shade and looked on. The winds cold them in summer, in winter skins kept them warm. If they fought among themselves it was to prove that they were men. They were brave. They were just. They were happy. Here the speaker paused, and again looked around him to discover if his legend had touched the sympathy of his listeners. He met everywhere with eyes riveted on his own. Heds erect and nostrils expanded, as if each individual present felt himself able and willing singly to redress the wrongs of his race. If the great spirit gave different tongues to his red children, he continued in a low, still melancholy voice, it was that all animals might understand them. Some he placed among the snows with their cousin the bear. Some he placed near the setting sun on the road to the happy hunting grounds. Some on the lands around the great fresh waters. But to his greatest, and most beloved, he gave the sands of the Salt Lake. Do my brothers know the name of this favored people? It was the Lennipi! exclaimed twenty eager voices in a breath. It was the Lenni Lennipi! returned Makwa, affecting to bend his head in reverence to their former greatness. It was the tribes of the Lennipi! The sun rose from water that was salt, and sat in water that was sweet, and never hid himself from their eyes. But why should I, a Huron of the woods, tell a wise people their own traditions? Why remind them of their injuries, their ancient greatness, their deeds, their glory, their happiness, their losses, their defeats, their misery? Is there not one among them who has seen it all, and knows it to be true? I have done. My tongue is still for my heart, is of lead. I listen. As the voice of the speaker suddenly ceased, every face and all eyes turned by a common movement toward the venerable tenement. From the moment that he took his seat until the present instant, the lips of the patriarch had not severed, and scarcely a sign of life had escaped him. He sat, bent in feebleness, and apparently unconscious of the presence he was in during the whole of that opening scene in which the skill of the scout had been so clearly established. At the nicely graduated sound of Makwa's voice, however, he betrayed some evidence of consciousness. And once or twice he even raised his head as if to listen. But when the crafty Huron spoke of his nation by name, the eyelids of the old man raised themselves, and he looked out upon the multitude with that sort of dull, unmeaning expression which might be supposed to belong to the countenance of a specter, then he made an effort to rise, and being upheld by his supporters he gained his feet in a posture commanding by its dignity while he tottered with weakness. Who call upon the children of the Lenape? He said in a deep guttural voice that was rendered awfully audible by the breathless silence of the multitude. Who speaks of things gone? Does not the egg become a worm, the worm a fly, and perish? Why tell the Delaware's of good that is past? Better thank the Manitou for that which remains. It is a Wyandot, said Makwa, stepping nire to the rude platform on which the other stood. A friend of Tamanund. A friend? Repeated the sage, on whose brow a dark frown settled, imparting a portion of that severity which had rendered his eye so terrible in middle age. Are the mingos rulers of the earth? What brings a Huron here? Justice his prisoners are with his brothers, and he comes for his own. Tamanund turned his head toward one of his supporters and listened to the short explanation the man gave. Then, facing the applicant, he regarded him for a moment with deep attention. After which he said, in a low and reluctant voice, Justice is the law of the great Manitou. My children, give the stranger food. Then, Huron, take thine own and depart. On the delivery of this solemn judgment, the patriarch seated himself and closed his eyes again, as if better pleased with the images of his own ripened experience than with the visible objects of the world. Against such a decree there was no Delaware sufficiently hearty to murmur, much less oppose himself. The words were barely uttered when four or five of the younger warriors, stepping behind Hayward and the scout, passed thong so dexterously and rapidly around their arms as to hold them both in instant bondage. The former was too much engrossed with his precious and nearly insensible burden to be aware of their intentions before they were executed, and the latter, who considered even the hostile tribes of the Delaware a superior race of beings, submitted without resistance. Perhaps, however, the manner of the scout would not have been so passive had he fully comprehended the language in which the preceding dialogue had been conducted. Mark will cast a look of triumph around the whole assembly before he proceeded to the execution of his purpose. Perceiving that the men were unable to offer any resistance, he turned his look on her he valued most. Korra met his gaze with an eye so calm and firm that his resolution wavered. Then, recollecting his former artifice, he raised Alice from the arms of the warrior against whom she leaned, and beckoning Hayward to follow, he motioned for the encircling crowd to open. But Korra, instead of obeying the impulse he had expected, rushed to the feet of the patriarch, and raising her voice exclaimed out loud, Just and venerable Delaware, on thy wisdom and power we lean for mercy. Be death to yonder, artful and remorseless monster who poisons thy ears with falsehoods to feed his thirst for blood. Now that has lived long and that has seen the evil of the world should know how to temper its calamities to the miserable. The eyes of the old man opened heavily, and he once more looked upward at the multitude. As the piercing tones of the suppliant swelled on his ears, they moved slowly in the direction of her person and finally settled there on a steady gaze. Korra had cast herself to her knees, and with hands clenched in each other and pressed upon her bosom, she remained like a beautyous and breathing model of her sex, looking up in his faded but majestic countenance with a species of holy reverence. Gradually the expression of Tamanon's features changed, and losing their vacancy and admiration, they lighted with a portion of that intelligence which a century before had been want to communicate his youthful fire to the extensive bands of the Delaware's. Rising without assistance and seemingly without an effort, he demanded in a voice that startled its auditors by its firmness. What art thou? A woman, one of a hated race, if thou wilt, a Yankee, but one who has never harmed thee, and who cannot harm thy people if she would? Who asked for sugar? Tell me, my children, continued the patriarch hoarsely, motioning to those around him, though his eyes still dwelt upon the kneeling form of Korra. Where have the Delaware's camped in the mountains of the Iroquois? Beyond the clear springs of the Horrican. Many parching summers are coming gone, continued the sage, since I drank the water of my own rivers. The children of Minkwon are the justice white men, but they are thirsty and took it to themselves. Do they follow us so far? Footnote William Penn was termed Minkwon by the Delaware's, and as he never used violence or injustice in his dealings with them, his reputation for probity passed into a proverb. The American is justly proud of the origin of his nation, which is perhaps unequaled in the history of the world, but the Pennsylvanian and Jerseymen have more reason to value themselves in their ancestors than the natives of any other state. Since no wrong was done the original owners of the soil. And footnote We follow none, we covet nothing, answered Korra. Captives against our wills we have been brought amongst you, and we ask but permission to be part to our own in peace. Art thou not tominund, the father, the judge, I had almost said, the prophet of his people? I am tominund of many days. Tis now some seven years that one of thy people was at the mercy of a white chief on the borders of this province. He claimed to be of the blood of the good and just tominund. Go, said the white man, for thy parents' sake thou art free. Does thou remember the name of that English warrior? I remember that when a laughing boy returned to Patriarch with the peculiar recollection of vast age, I stood upon the sands of the seashore, and saw a big canoe with wings whiter than the swans, and wider than many eagles come from the rising sun. Nay, nay, I speak not of a time so very distance, but of favor shown to thy kindred by one of mine, within the memory of thy youngest warrior. Was it when the Yankees and the Dutchmen fought for the hunting grounds of the Delaware's? Then tominund was chief, and first laid aside the bow for the lightning of the palefaces. Not yet then, Interrupticora, by many ages I speak of the thing of yesterday. Surely, surely you forgot it not! It was but yesterday, rejoined the ancient man, with touching pathos, that the children of the Lannopy were masters of the world. The fishes of the Salt Lake, the birds, the beast, and the mengie of the woods, owned them for Sagamores. Cora bowed her head in disappointment, and for a bitter moment struggled with her chagrin, then elevating her rich features and beaming eyes she continued, in tone scarcely less penetrating than the unearthly voice of the patriarch himself. Tell me, is tominund a father? The old man looked down upon her from his elevated stand, with a benignant smile on his waisted confidence, and then casting his eyes slowly over the whole assemblage he answered, of a nation. For myself I ask nothing, like thee and thine venerable chief, she continued, pressing her hands convulsively on her heart, and suffering her head to droop until her burning cheeks were nearly concealed in the maze of dark glossy tresses that fell in disorder on her shoulders. The curse of my ancestors has fallen heavily on their child, but Yonder is one who has never known the weight of heaven's displeasure until now. She is the daughter of an old and failing man, whose days are near their close. She has many, very many to love her and delight in her, and she is too good, much too precious to become the victim of that villain. I know that the pale faces are a proud and hungry race. I know that they claim not only to have the earth, but that the meanest of their color is better than the sachems of the red man. The dogs and crows of their tribes continued the earnest old chieftain, without heeding the wounded spirit of his listener, whose head was nearly crushed to the earth in shame as he proceeded, would bark and call before they would take a woman to their wigwams, whose blood was not the color of snow. But let them not boast before the face of the Manitou too loud. They entered the land of the rising and may yet go off at the setting sun. I have often seen the loka strip the leaves from the trees, but the season of blossoms has always come again. It is so, said Korra, drawing a long breath, as if reviving from a trance, raising her face and shaking back her shining veil with a kindling eye that contradicted the death-like paleness of accountants. But why is it not permitted us to inquire? There is yet one of thine own people who has not been brought before thee. Before thou letst the year on depart him triumph, hear him speak. Observing Tamanund to look about him doubtfully, one of his companions said, It is a snake, a red skin in the pay of the Yankees. We keep him for the torture. Let him come, returned the sage. Then Tamanund once more sank into his seat, and a silence so deep prevailed while the young man prepared to obey his simple mandate that the leaves, which fluttered in the draft of the light-morning air, were distinctly heard rustling in the surrounding forest. End of Chapter 29 This reading by Gary W. Sherwin of Yukon, Pennsylvania