 CHAPTER IX. B.K. securely, dispel my faith with smiles the timorous clouds that hang on my clear brow from death of a grippina. The sudden and almost magical change from the stirring incidents of the combat to the stillness that now reigned around him acted on the heated imagination of Hayward like some exciting dream, while all the images and events he had witnessed remained deeply impressed on his memory he felt a difficulty in persuading him of their truth. Still ignorant of the fate of those who had trusted to the aid of the swift current he at first listened intently to any signal or sounds of alarm which might announce the good or evil fortune of their hazardous undertaking. His attention, however, was bestowed in vain, for with the disappearance of Uncus every sign of the adventures had been lost, leaving him in total uncertainty of their fate. In a moment of such painful doubt Duncan did not hesitate to look around him without consulting that protection from the rocks which just before had been so necessary to his safety. Every effort, however, to detect the least evidence of the approach of their hidden enemies was as fruitless as the inquiry after his late companions. The wooded banks of the river seemed again deserted by everything possessing animal life. The uproar which had so lately echoed through the vaults of the forest was gone, leaving the rush of the waters to swell and sink on the currents of the air in the unmingled sweetness of nature. A fish-hawk which secure on the topmost branches of a dead pine had been a distant spectator of the fray, now swooped from his high and ragged perch and soared in wide sweeps above his prey, while a jay whose noisy voice had been stilled by the horser-cries of the savages ventured again to open his discordant throat as though once more in undisturbed possession of his wild domains. Duncan caught from these natural accompaniments of the solitary scene a glimmering of hope, and he began to rally his facilities to renewed exertions with something like a reviving confidence of success. The Hurons are not to be seen, he said, addressing David, who had by no means recovered from the effects of the stunning blow he had received. Let us conceal ourselves in the cavern and trust the rest to Providence. I remember to have united with two comely maidens in lifting up our voices in praise and thanksgiving, returned the bewildered singing master. Since which time I have been visited by a heavy judgment for my sins. I have been mocked with the likeness of sleep, while sounds of discord have rent my ears such as might manifest the fullness of time and that nature had forgotten her harmony. Poor fellow, your own period was, in truth, near its accomplishment. But arouse and come with me. I will lead you, where all other sounds but those from your own somody shall be excluded. There is melody in the fall of the cataract, and the rushing of many waters is sweet to the senses, said David, pressing his hand confusedly on his brow. Is not the air yet filled with shrieks and cries as though they departed spirits of the damned? Not now, not now, interrupted the impatient hayward. They have ceased, and they who raise them, I trust in God. They are gone too. Everything but the water is still and at peace in them, where you may create those sounds you love so well to hear. David smiled sadly, though not without a momentary gleam of pleasure at this allusion to his beloved vocation. He no longer hesitated to be led to a spot which promised such unalloyed gratification to his weird senses, and leaning on the arm of his companion he entered the narrow mouth of the cave. Duncan seized Apollo's sassy frass, which he drew before the passage, studiously concealing every appearance of an aperture. Within this fragile barrier he arranged the blankets abandoned by the foresters, looking the inner extremity of the cavern, while its outer receive a chastened light from the narrow ravine through which one arm of the river rushed to form the junction with its sister branch, a few rods below. I like not the principle of the natives, which teaches them to submit without a struggle, in emergencies that appear desperate, he said, while busyed in his employment. Our own maxim which says, while life remains there is hope, is more consoling and better suited to a soldier's temperament. To you, Cora, I will urge no words of idle encouragement. Your own fortitude and undisturbed reason will teach you all that may become your sex. But cannot we drive the tears of that trembling weeper on your bosom? I am calmer, Duncan, said Alice, raising herself from the arms of her sister, and forcing an appearance of composure through her tears. Much calmer now. Surely, in this hidden spot, we are safe, we are secret, free from injury. We will hope everything from those generous men who have risked so much already in our behalf. Now does our gentle Alice speak like the daughter of Monroe, said Hayward, pausing to press her hand as he passed toward the outer entrance of the cavern. With two such examples of courage before him, a man would be ashamed to prove other than a hero. He then seated himself in the center of the cavern, grasping his remaining pistol with a hand convulsively clenched, while his contracted and frowning eye announced the solemn desperation of his purpose. The Hurons, if they come, may not gain or position so easily as they think. He slowly muttered, and propping his head back against the rock, he seemed to await the result in patience, though his gaze was unceasingly bent on the open avenue to their place of retreat. With the last sound of his voice, a deep, a long, and almost breathless silence seceded. The fresh air of the morning had penetrated the recess, and its influence was gradually felt on the spirits of its inmates. As minute after minute passed by, leaving them in undisturbed security, the insinuating feeling of hope was gradually gaining possession of every bosom. Though each one felt reluctant to give utterance to expectations that the next moment might so fearfully destroy, David alone formed an exception to these varying emotions. A gleam of light from the opening crossed his wan continents, and fell upon the pages of the little volume, whose leaves he was again occupied in turning, as if searching for some song more fitted to their condition than any that had yet met their eye. He was most probably acting all this time under a confused recollection of the promised consolation of Duncan. At length it would seem, his patient industry found its reward, for, without explanation or apology, he pronounced aloud the words, O of white, drew a long sweet sound from his pitch pipe, and then ran through the preliminary modulations of the air, whose name he had just mentioned, with the sweeter tones of his own musical voice. May this not prove dangerous? asked Cora, glancing her dark eye at Major Hayward. Poor fellow. His voice is too feeble to be heard above the din of the falls, was the answer. Besides, the cavern will prove his friend. Let him indulge his passions, since it may be done without hazard. O of white! repeated David, looking about him with that dignity with which he had long been want to silence the whispering echoes of his skull, till the brave tune, and set to solemn words, let it be sung with meat respect. After allowing a moment of stillness to enforce his discipline, the voice of the singer was heard in low murmuring syllables, gradually stealing on the ear, until it filled the narrow vault with sounds rendered trebly thrilling by the feeble and tremulous utterance produced by his debility. The melody, which no weakness could destroy, gradually wrought its sweet influence on the senses of those who heard it. It even prevailed over the miserable travesty of the song of David, which the singer had selected from a volume of similar effusions, and caused the sense to be forgotten in the insinuating harmony of the sounds. Alice unconsciously dried her tears and bent her melting eyes on the pallid features of Gamut, with an expression of chase and delight that she neither affected nor wished to conceal. Cora bestowed an approving smile on the pious efforts of the namesake of the Jewish prince, and Hayward soon turned his steady stern look from the outlet of the cavern to fasten it with a milder character on the face of David, or to meet the wandering beams which at moments strayed from the humid eyes of Alice. The open sympathy of the listeners stirred the spirit of the votary of music, whose voice regained its richness and volume, without losing that touching softness which proved its secret charm. Exerting his renovated powers to their utmost, he was yet feeling the arches of the cave with long and full tones. When a yell burst into the air without, that instantly stilled his pious strains, choking his voice suddenly as though his heart had literally bounded into the passage of his throat. We are lost! exclaimed Alice, throwing herself into the arms of Cora. No, not yet, returned the agitated but undaunted Hayward. The sound came from the centre of the island, and it has been produced by the sight of their dead companions. We are not yet discovered, and there is still hope. Faint and almost despairing as was the prospect of escape, the words of Duncan were not thrown away. For it awakened the powers of the sisters in such a manner that they awaited the results in silence. A second yell soon followed the first, then a rush of voices was heard pouring down the island from its upper to its lower extremity, until they reached the naked rock above the caverns, where after a shout of savage triumph the air continued full of horrible cries and screams, such as man alone can utter, and he only went in a state of the fiercest barbarity. The sounds quickly spread around them in every direction. Some called to their fellows from the water's edge and were answered from the heights above. Cries were heard in the startling vicinity of the chasm between the two caves, which mingled with horser yells that arose out of the abyss of the deep ravine. In short, so rapidly had the savage sounds diffused themselves over the barren rock that it was not difficult for the anxious listeners to imagine they could be heard beneath, as in truth they were above on every side of them. In the midst of this tumult a triumphant yell was raised within a few yards of the hidden entrance to the cave. They were to abandon every hope with the belief it was the signal that they were discovered. Again, the impression passed away as he heard the voices collect near the spot where the white man had so reluctantly abandoned his rifle. Amid the jargon of Indian dialects that he'd now plainly heard, it was easy to distinguish not only words but sentences in the patois of the canadas. A burst of voices had shouted simultaneously, La Long Carabine! causing the opposite woods to re-echo with the name which Hayward well remembered had been given by his enemies to a celebrated hunter and scout of the English camp, and who he now learned for the first time had been his late companion. La Long Carabine! La Long Carabine! passed from mouth to mouth until the whole band appeared to be collected around a trophy which would seem to announce the death of its formidable owner. After a vociferous consultation which was at time deafened by burst of savage joy, they again separated, filling the air with the name of a foe whose body Hayward could collect from their expressions they hoped to find concealed in some crevice of the island. Now, he whispered to the trembling sisters, now is the moment of uncertainty. If our place of retreat escaped the scrutiny, we are still safe. In every event, we are assured by what has fallen from our enemies, that our friends have escaped, and in two short hours we may look for suker from web. There were now a few minutes of fearful stillness, during which Hayward well knew that the savages conducted their search with greater vigilance and method. More than once he could distinguish their footsteps as they brushed the sassy frass, causing the faded leaves to rustle and the branches to snap. At length the pile yielded a little, a corner of a blanket fell, and a faint ray of light gleamed into the inner part of the cave. Over a folded Alice to her bosom and agony. And Duncan sprang to his feet. A shout was at that moment heard as if issuing from the center of the rock, announcing that the neighboring cavern had at length been entered. In a minute the number and loudness of the voices indicated that the whole party was collected in and around that secret place. As the inner passages of the two caves were so close to each other, Duncan, believing that escape was no longer possible, passed David and the sisters to place himself between the latter and the first onset of the terrible meaning. Grown desperate by his situation, he drew nigh the slight barrier which separated him only a few feet from his relentless pursuers. And placing his face to the casual opening, he even looked out with a sort of desperate indifference on their movements. Within reach of his arm was the brawny shoulder of a gigantic Indian, whose deep and authoritative voice appeared to give directions to the proceedings of his fellows. Beyond him again, Duncan could look into the vault opposite, which was filled with savages, upturning and rifling the humble furniture of the scout. The wound of David had dyed the leaves of sassy frass with a color that the native knew well as anticipating the season. Over this sign of their success they sent up a howl like an opening from so many hounds who had recovered a lost trail. After this yellow victory they tore up the fragrant bed of the cavern and bore the branches into the chasm, scattering the bowels as if they suspected them of concealing the person of the man. They had so long hated and feared. One fierce and wild-looking warrior approached the chief, bearing a load of the brush and pointing exultingly to the deep red stains with which it was sprinkled, uttered his joy in Indian yells, whose meaning hayward was only enabled to comprehend by the frequent repetition of the name, the long carabine. When his triumph had ceased he cast the brush onto the slight heap Duncan had made before the entrance of the second cavern and closed the view. His example was followed by others, who as they drew the branches from the cave of the scout threw them into one pile, cutting unconsciously to the security of those they sought. The very slightness of the defense was its chief merit, for no one thought of disturbing a massive brush, which all of them believed in that moment of hurry and confusion, had been accidentally raised by the hands of their own party. As the blankets yielded before the outward pressure and the branches settled in the fissure of the rock by their own weight, forming a compact body, Duncan once more breathed freely. With a light step and a lighter heart he returned to the center of the cave and took the place he had left, where he could command a view of the opening next the river. While he was in the act of making this movement, the Indians, as if changing their purpose by a common impulse, broke away from the chasm in a body, and were heard rushing up the island again toward the point whence they had originally descended. Here another wailing cry betrayed that they were again collected around the bodies of their dead comrades. Duncan now ventured to look at his companions. For, during most of the critical moments of their danger, he had been apprehensive that the anxiety of his countenance might communicate some additional alarm to those who were so little able to sustain it. They are gone, Quora, he whispered. Alice, they are returned whence they came, and we are saved. To heaven that has alone delivered us from the grasp of so merciless an enemy, be all praise. Then to heaven I will return my thanks, exclaimed the younger sister, rising from the encircling arm of Quora, and casting herself with enthusiastic gratitude on the naked rock. To that heaven which had spared the tears of a grey-headed father, has saved the lives of those I so much love. Both Hayward and the more temperate Quora witnessed the act of involuntary emotion with powerful sympathy. The former, secretly believing that Piety had never worn a form so lovely as it had now assumed in the youthful person of Alice. Her eyes were radiant with the glow of grateful feelings. The flush of her beauty was again seated on her cheeks, and her whole soul seemed ready and anxious to pour out its thanksgiving through the medium of her eloquent features. But when her lips moved, the words they should have uttered appeared frozen by some new and sudden chill. Her bloom gave place to the paleness of death. Her soft and melding eyes grew hard, and seemed contracting with horror, while those hands which she had raised clasped in each other toward heaven. Dropped in horizontal lines before her, the fingers pointed forward in convulsed motion. Hayward turned the instant she gave a direction to his suspicions, and peering just above the ledge which formed the threshold of the open outlet of the cavern. He beheld the lignant, fierce, and savage features of LeRinhard Subtil. In that moment of surprise the self-possession of Hayward did not desert him. He observed by the vacant expression of the Indian's countenance that his eye accustomed to the open air had not yet been able to penetrate the dusky light which pervaded the depth of the cavern. He had even thought of retreating beyond a curvature in the natural wall, which might still conceal him and his companions, when by the sudden gleam of intelligence that shot across the features of the savage he saw it was too late, and that they were betrayed. The look of exaltation and brutal triumph which announced this terrible truth was irresistibly irritating. Forgetful of everything but the impulses of his hot blood, Duncan leveled his pistol and fired. The report of the weapon made the cavern below like an eruption from a volcano, and when the smoke it vomited had been driven away before the current of air which issued from the ravine, the place so lately occupied by the features of his treacherous guide was vacant. Rushing to the outlet Hayward caught a glimpse of his dark figure stealing around a low and narrow ledge which soon hid him entirely from sight. Among the savages a frightful stillness exceeded the explosion which had just been heard bursting from the bowels of the rock, but when Le Renard raised his voice in the long and intelligible hoop it was answered by a spontaneous yell from the mouth of every Indian within hearing of the sound. The clamorous noises again rushed down the island, and before Duncan had time to recover from the shock, his feeble barrier of brush was scattered to the winds. The cavern was entered at both its extremities, and he and his companions were dragged from their shelter and borne into the day where they stood surrounded by the whole band of the triumphant Hurons. Chapter 10 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 X Quote, I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn as much as we this night have overwatched. UNQUOTE, from Midsummer Night's Dream. The instant the shock of this sudden misfortune had abated, Duncan began to make his observations on the appearance and proceedings of their captors. Contrary to the usages of the natives in the wantiness of their success, they had respected not only the persons of the trimbling sisters, but his own. The rich ornaments of his military attire had indeed been repeatedly handled by different individuals of the tribes, with eyes expressing a savage longing to possess the baubles. But before the customary violence could be resorted to, a mandate in the authoritative voice of the large warrior, already mentioned, stayed the uplifted hand and convinced Hayward that they were to be reserved for some object of particular moment. While, however, these manifestations of weakness were exhibited by the young in vain of the party, the more experienced warriors continued their search throughout both caverns, with an activity that denoted they were far from being satisfied with those fruits of their conquest, which had already been brought to light. Unable to discover any new victim, these diligent workers of vengeance soon approached their male prisoners, pronouncing the name, the Long Carabine, with a fierceness that could not be easily mistaken. Duncan affected not to comprehend the meeting of the repeated and violent interrogatories, while his companion was spared the effort of a similar deception by his ignorance of French. Weiried at length by their importunities, and apprehensive of irritating his captors by too stubborn a silence, the former looked about him in quest of maqua, who might interpret his answers to questions which were at each moment becoming more earnest and threatening. The conduct of this savage had formed a solitary exception to that of his fellows, while the others were busily occupied in seeking to gratify their childish passion for finery by plundering even the miserable effects of the scout, or had been searching with such bloodthirsty vengeance in their looks for their absent owner. Laterineard had stood at a little distance from the prisoners, with a demeanor so quiet and satisfied, as to betray that he had already affected the grand purpose of his treachery. When the eyes of Hayward first met those of his recent guide, he turned them away in horror at the sinister, though calm look he encountered. Conquering his disgust, however, he was able, with an averted face, to address his successful enemy. Le Renaud Subtil is too much of a warrior, said the reluctant Hayward, to refuse telling an unarmed man what his conquerors say. They ask for the hunter. Who knows the path through the woods? returned maqua, in his broken English, laying his hand at the same time with a ferocious smile on the bundle of leaves, with which a wound on his shoulder was bandaged. Le long carabine! His rifle is good, and his eye never shut. But like the short kind of the white chief, it is nothing against the life of Le Subtil. Laterineard is too brave to remember the hurts received in war, or the hands that gave them. Was it war when the tired Indian rested at the sugar-tree to taste his corn? Who failed the bushes with creeping enemies? Who drew the knife, whose tongue was a piece, while his heart was colored with blood? Did maqua say that the hatchet was out of the ground, and that his hand had dug it up? As Duncan dared not retort upon his accuser, by reminding him of his own premeditated territory, and disdain to deprecate his resentment by any words of apology, he remained silent. Maqua seemed also content to rest the controversy as well, as all further communication there. For he resumed the leaning attitude against the rock from which, in momentary energy he had arisen. But the cry of Le long carabine! was renewed. The instant the impatient savages perceived that the short dialogue was ended. You hear, said Maqua with stubborn indifference, the red Hurons call for the life of the long rifle, or they will have the blood of him that kept him hid. He is gone, escaped, he is far beyond their reach. Renard smiled with cold contempt as he answered. When the white man dies, he thinks he is at peace, but the red men know how to torture even the ghost of their enemies. Where is his body? Let the Hurons see his scalp. He is not dead, but escaped. Maqua shook his head incredulously. Is he a bird to spread his wings, or is he a fish to swim without air? The white chief read in his books and he believes the Hurons are fools. Though no fish, the long rifle can swim. He floated down the stream when the powder was all burned, and when the eyes of the Hurons were behind a cloud. And why did the white chief stay? demanded the incredulous Indian. Is he a stone that goes to the bottom, or does the scalp burn his head? That I am not stone. Your dead comrade, who fell into the fall's white answer, were there still life in him, said the provoked young man, using in his anger that boastful language which was most likely to excite the admiration of an Indian. The white man thinks none but cowards desert their women. Maqua muttered a few words inaudibly between his teeth, before he continued aloud. Can the Delaware swim too, as well as crawl in the bushes? Where is lay gross serpent? Duncan, who perceived by the use of these Canadian appellations that his late companions were much better known to his enemies than to himself, answered reluctantly. He also is gone down with the water. Layser Fagile is not here. I know not whom you call the nimble deer, said Duncan gladly, profiting by any excuse to create delay. Return Maqua, pronouncing the Delaware name, with even greater difficulty than he spoke his English words. Bounding Elk is what the white man says when he calls to the young Malhecan. Here is some confusion in names between us, Layreddard, said Duncan, hoping to provoke a discussion. Dame is the French for deer, and serf for stag. Elon is the true term, when one would speak of an Elk. Yes, muttered the Indian in his native tongue. The pale faces are prattling women. They have two words for each thing, while a red skin will make the sound of his voice speak to him. Then, changing his language, he continued, adhering to the imperfect nomenclature of his provincial instructors. The deer is swift but weak. The elk is swift but strong. And the son of Lay Serpent is Lay Serf Hadjil. Has he leaped the river to the woods? If you mean the younger Delaware, he too has gone down with the water. As there was nothing improbable to an Indian in the manner of the escape, Maqua admitted the truth of what he had heard, with a readiness that afforded additional evidence, how little he would prize such worthless captives. With his companions, however, the feeling was manifestly different. The Hurons had awaited the result of this short dialogue, with characteristic patience, and with a silence that increased until there was a general stillness in the band. When Hayward ceased to speak, they turned their eyes as one man on Maqua, demanding in this expressive manner an explanation of what had been said. Their interpreter pointed to the river, and made them acquainted with the result, as much by the action as by the few words he uttered. When the fact was generally understood, the savages raised a frightful yell, which declared the extent of their disappointment. Some ran furiously to the water's edge, beating the air with frantic gestures, while others spat upon the element to resent the supposed treason. It had committed against their acknowledged rights as conquerors. A few, and they not the least powerful and terrific of the band, through lowering looks in which the fiercest passion was only tempered by habitual self-command at those captives who still remained in their power, while one or two even gave vent to their malignant feelings by the most menacing gestures against which neither the sex nor the beauty of the sisters was any protection. The young soldier made a desperate but fruitless effort to spring to the side of Alice, when he saw the dark hand of a savage twisted in the rich tresses, which were flowing in volumes over her shoulders, while a knife was passed around the head from which they fell, as if to denote the horrid manner in which it was about to be robbed of its beautiful ornament. But his hands were bound, and at the first movement he made, he felt the grasp of the powerful Indian who directed the band, pressing his shoulder like a vice. Immediately conscious how unavailing any struggle against such overwhelming force must prove, he submitted to his fate, encouraging his gentle companions, by a few low and tender assurances, that the natives seldom failed to threaten more than they performed. But while Duncan resorted to these words of consolation to quiet the apprehensions of the sisters, he was not so weak as to deceive himself. He well knew that the authority of an Indian chief was so little conventional that it was often maintained by physical superiority than by any moral supremacy he might possess. The danger was therefore magnified exactly in proportion to the number of savage spirits by which they were surrounded. The most positive mandate from him who seemed the acknowledged leader was liable to be violated at each moment by any rash hand that might choose to sacrifice a victim to the mains of some dead friend or relative. While, therefore, he sustained an outward appearance of calmness and fortitude, his heart leaped into his throat whenever any of their first captors drew nearer than common to the helpless sisters, or fastened one of their solemn wondering looks on those fragile forms which were so little able to resist the slightest assault. His apprehensions were, however, greatly relieved when he saw that the leader had summoned his warriors to himself in counsel. Their deliberations were short, and it would seem, by the silence of most of the party, the decision unanimous. By the frequency with which the few speakers pointed in the direction of the encampment of Webb, it was apparent they dreaded the approach of danger from that quarter. This consideration probably hastened their determination, and quickened the subsequent movements. During his short conference, Hayward finding a respite from his gravest fears had leisure to admire the cautious manner in which the Hurons had made their approaches, even after hostilities had ceased. It has already been stated that the upper half of the island was a naked rock, and destitute of any other defenses than a few scattered logs of driftwood. They had selected this point to make their descent, having borne the canoe through the wood around the cataract for that purpose. Placing their arms in the little vessel a dozen men clinging to its sides had trusted themselves to the direction of the canoe, which was controlled by two of the most skillful warriors in attitudes that enabled them to command a view of the dangerous passage. Favored by this arrangement, they touched the head of the island at that point which had proved so fatal to their first adventures, but with the advantages of superior numbers and the possession of firearms. That such had been the manner of their descent was rendered quite apparent to Duncan, for they now bore the light bark from the upper end of the rock, and placed it in the water near the mouth of the outer cavern. As soon as this change was made, the leader made signs to the prisoners to descend and enter. As resistance was impossible and remonstrance useless, Hayward set the example of submission by leading the way into the canoe where he was soon seated with the sisters and the still-wondering David. Notwithstanding the Hurons were necessarily ignorant of the little channels among the eddies and rapids of the streams, they knew the common signs of such a navigation too well to commit any material blunder. When the pilot chosen for the task of guiding the canoe had taken his station, the whole band plunged again into the river. The vessel glided down the current, and in a few moments the captives found themselves on the south bank of the stream, nearly opposite to the point where they had struck it the preceding evening. Here was held another short but earnest consultation, during which the horses, to whose panic their owners subscribed their heaviest misfortune, were led from the cover of the woods and brought to the sheltered spot. The band now divided. The great chief, so often mentioned, mounting the Charger of Hayward, led the way directly across the river, followed by most of his people, and disappeared in the woods, leaving the prisoners in charge of six savages, at whose head was Le Renage Subtil. Duncan witnessed all their movements with renewed uneasiness. He had been fond of believing, from the uncommon forbearance of the savages, that he was reserved as a prisoner to be delivered to Montcombe, as the thoughts of those who were in misery seldom slumber, and the invention is never more likely than when it is stimulated by hope, however feeble and remote. He had even imagined that the parental feelings of Monroe were to be made instrumental in seducing him from his duty to the king. For, though the French commander bore a high character for courage and enterprise, he was also thought to be an expert in those political practices, which do not always respect the nicer obligations of morality, and which so generally disgraced the European diplomacy of that period. All those busy and ingenious speculations were now annihilated by the conduct of his captors. That portion of the band who had followed the huge warrior took the route toward the foot of the hurricane, and no other expectation was left for himself and companions than that they were to be retained as hopeless captives by their savage conquerors. Anxious to know the worst, and willing, in such an emergency, to try the potency of gold, he overcame his reluctance to speak to Manqua, addressing himself to his former guide, who had now assumed the authority and manner of one who was to direct the future movements of the party. He said in tones as friendly and confiding as he could assume, I would speak to Manqua what is fit only for so great a chief to hear. The Indian turned his eyes on the young soldiers scornfully as he answered, Speak! Trees have no ears, but the red Hurons are not deaf, and counsel that is fit for the great men of a nation would make the young warriors drunk. If Manqua will not listen, the officer of the king knows how to be silent. The savage spoke carelessly to his comrades who were busied after their awkward manner in preparing the horses for the reception of the sisters, and moved a little to one side, wither by a cautious gesture. He induced Hayward to follow. Now speak, he said, if the words are such as Manqua should hear. Le Renaud Subtil has proved himself worthy of the honourable name given to him by his Canada Fathers, commenced Hayward. I see his wisdom, and all that he has done for us, and shall remember it when the hour to reward him arrives. Yes, Renaud has proved that he is not only a great chief in counsel, but one who knows how to deceive his enemies. Where has Renaud done? coldly demanded the Indian. What? Has he not seen that the woods were filled with outlying parties of the enemies, and that the serpent could not steal through them without being seen? Then did he not lose his path to blind the eyes of the Hurons? Did he not pretend to go back to his tribe who had treated him ill, and driven him from their wigwams like a dog? And when he saw what he wished to do, did we not aid him by making a false face that the Hurons might think the white man believed that his friend was his enemy? Is not all this true? And when Laysubtil had shut the eyes and stopped the ears of his nation by his wisdom? Did they not forget that they had once done him wrong, and forced him to flee to the Mohawks? And did they not leave him on the south of the river with their prisoners, while they have gone foolishly to the north? Does not Renaud mean to turn like a fox on his footsteps, and carry to the rich and gray-headed scotchman his daughters? Yes, Makwa, I see it all, and I have already been thinking how so much wisdom and honesty should be repaid. First, the Chief of William Henry will give as great Chief should for such a service. The Medal of Makwa will no longer be of tin, footnote. It has long been a practice of the whites to conciliate the important men of the Indians by presenting medals which were worn in the place of their own rude ornaments. Those given by the English generally bear the impression of the reigning king, and those given by the Americans, that of the President. And footnote, but of beaten gold. His horn will run over with powder. Dollars will be as plenty in his pouch, as pebbles on the shore of Horekin, and the deer will lick his hand, for they will know it to be vain to fly from the rifle he will carry. As for myself, I know not how to exceed the gratitude of the Scotchman, but I, yes, I will, what will the young Chief who comes from toward the Sun give, demanded the Huron, observing that Hayward hesitated in his desire to end the enumeration of benefits with that which might form the climax of an Indian's wishes. He will make the firewater from the islands in the Salt Lake flow before the wigwam of Makwa, until the heart of the Indian shall be lighter than the feathers of the hummingbird. In his breath, sweeter than wild honeysuckle, Le Renard had listened gravely as Hayward slowly proceeded in this subtle speech. When the young man mentioned the artifice, he supposed the Indian to have practiced on his own nation. The countenance of the listener was veiled in an expression of cautious gravity. At the allusion to the injury which Duncan effected to believe had driven the Huron from his native tribe, a gleam of such ungovernable ferocity flashed from the other's eyes, as induced the adventurous speaker to believe he had struck the proper court. And by the time he reached the part where he so artfully blended the thirst of vengeance with the desire of gain, he had at least obtained a command of the deepest attention of the savage. The question put by Le Renard had been calm and with all the dignity of an Indian, but it was quite apparent by the thoughtful expression of the listener's countenance that the answer was most cunningly devised. The Huron mused a few moments, and then laying his hand on the rude bandages of his wounded shoulder he said with some energy, Do friends make such marks? Would la long carbine cut one so slight on an enemy? Do the Delaware's crawl upon those they love like snakes twisting themselves to strike? Would late gross serpent have been heard by the ears of one he wished to be deaf? Does the white chief burn his powder in the faces of his brothers? Does he ever miss his aim? When seriously bent to kill? Return Duncan, smiling with well-acted sincerity. Another long and deliberate pause succeeded these sententious questions and ready replies. Duncan saw that the Indian hesitated. In order to complete his victory he was in the act of recommencing the enumeration of the rewards when Mokwa made an expressive gesture and said, Enough! Lerenard is a wise chief, and what he does will be seen. Go and keep the mouth shut. When Mokwa speaks it will be the time to answer. Hayward, perceiving that the eyes of his companion were warily fastened on the rest of the band, fell back immediately in order to avoid the appearance of any suspicious confederacy with their leader. Mokwa approached the horses and affected to be well pleased with the diligence and ingenuity of his comrades. He then signed to Hayward to assist the sisters into the saddles, for he seldom deigned to use the English tongue, unless urged by some motive of more than usual moment. There was no longer any plausible pretext for delay, and Duncan was obliged, however reluctantly, to comply. As he performed this office he whispered his reviving hopes in the ears of the trembling females, who through dread of encountering the savage countenances of their captors seldom raised their eyes from the ground. The mayor of Davind had been taken with the followers of the large chief. In consequence its owner, as well as Duncan, was compelled to journey on foot. The latter did not, however, so much regret this circumstance, as it might enable him to retard the speed of the party, for he still turned his longing looks in the direction of Fort Edward, in the vain expectation of catching some sound from that quarter of the forest, which might denote the approach of Sukur. When all were prepared, Mokwa made the signal to proceed, advancing in front to lead the party in person. Next followed David, who was gradually coming to a true sense of his condition, as the effects of the wound became less and less apparent. The sisters rode in his rear, with Hayward at their side, while the Indians flanked the party and brought up the clothes of the march, with a caution that seemed never to tire. In this manner they proceeded in uninterrupted silence, except when Hayward expressed some solitary word of comfort to the females, or David gave vent to the moanings of his spirit in piteous exclamations, which he intended should express the humility of resignation. Their direction lay toward the south, and in a course nearly opposite to the road to William Henry, notwithstanding this apparent adherence in Mokwa to the original determination of his conquerors. Hayward could not believe his tempting bait was so soon forgotten, and he knew the windings of an Indian's path too well to suppose that its apparent course led directly to its object, when artifice was at all necessary. Mile after mile was, however, passed through the boundless woods in this painful manner, without any prospect of a termination of their journey. Hayward watched the sun as he darted his meridian rays through the branches of the trees, and pined for the moment when the policy of Mokwa should change their route to one more favorable to his hopes. Sometimes he fancied the weary savage despairing of passing the army of Montcalm in safety, was holding his way toward a well-known border settlement, where a distinguished officer of the crown and a favored friend of the Six Nations held his large possessions as well as his usual residence. To be delivered into the hands of Sir William Johnson was far preferable to being led into the wilds of Canada, but in order to affect even the former it would be necessary to traverse the forest for many weary leagues, each step of which was carrying him further from the scene of the war, and consequently from the post not only of honour, but of duty. Cora alone remembered the parting injunctions of the scout, and whenever an opportunity offered she stretched forth her arm to bend aside the twigs that met her hands, but the vigilance of the Indians rendered this act of precaution both difficult and dangerous. She was often defeated in her purpose by encountering their watchful eyes, when it became necessary to feign an alarm she did not feel, and occupy the limb by some gesture of famine and apprehension. Once and once only was she completely successful when she broke down the bow of a large sumac, and by a sudden thought let her glove fall at the same instance. This sign, intended for those that might follow, was observed by one of her conductors, who restored the glove, broke the remaining branches of the bush in such a manner that it appeared to proceed from the struggling of some beast in its branches, and then laid his hand on his tomahawk, with a look so significant that it put an effectual end to those stolen memorials of their passage, as there were horses to leave the prints of their footsteps in both bands of the Indians. This interruption cut off any probable hopes of assistance being conveyed through the means of their trail. Hayward would have ventured a remonstrance had there been anything encouraging in the glooming reserve of Magwa, but the savage, during all this time, seldom turned to look at his fellows and never spoke. With the sun for his only guide, or aided by such blind marks as are only known to the sagacity of a native, he held his way along the barrens of Pine, through occasional little fertile veils, across brooks and rivulets, and over undulating hills, with the accuracy of instinct, and nearly with the directness of a bird. He never seemed to hesitate, whether the path was hardly distinguishable, whether it disappeared, or whether it lay beaten in plain before him made no sensible difference in his speed or certainty. It seemed as if fatigue could not affect him. Whenever the eyes of the worried travelers rose from the decayed leaves over which they trod, his dark form was to be seen glancing among the stems of the trees in front. His head immovably fastened in a forward position, with the light plume on his crest fluttering in a current of air made solely by the swiftness of his own motion. But all his diligence and speed were not without an object. After crossing a low veil, through which a gushing brook meandered, he suddenly ascended a hill so steep and difficult of ascent that the sisters were compelled to a light in order to follow. When the summit was gained, they found themselves on a level spot, but thinly covered with trees, under one of which Mokwet had thrown his dark form, as if willing and ready to seek that rest, which was so much needed by the whole party. CHAPTER XI CURSED BE MY TRIBE IF I FORGIVE HIM. SHILOCK The Indian had selected for this desirable purpose one of those steep, pyramidal hills which bear a strong resemblance to artificial mounds and which so frequently occur in the valleys of America. The one in question was high and precipitous, its top flattened as usual, but with one of its sides more than ordinarily irregular. It possessed no other apparent advantage for a resting place than in its elevation and form, which might render defense easy and surprise nearly impossible. As Hayward, however, no longer expected that rescue which time and distance now rendered so improbable, he regarded these little peculiarities with an eye devoid of interest, devoting himself entirely to the comfort and condolence of his feebler companions. The Narragansets were suffered to browse on the branches of the trees and shrubs that were thinly scattered over the summit of the hill, while the remains of the provisions were spread under the shade of a beach that stretched its horizontal limbs like a canopy above them. Notwithstanding the swiftness of their flight, one of the Indians had found an opportunity to strike a straggling fawn with an arrow and had borne the more preferable fragments of the victim patiently on his shoulders to the stopping place. Without any aid from the science of kukri, he was immediately employed in common with his fellows, engorging himself with this digestible sustenance. Magwa alone sat apart without participating in the revolting meal and apparently buried in the deepest thought. This abstinence, so remarkable in an Indian when he possessed the means of satisfying hunger, at length attracted the notice of Hayward. The young man willingly believed that the Huron deliberated on the most eligible manner of eluding the vigilance of his associates, with a view to assist his plans by any suggestion of his own, and to strengthen the temptation he left the beach and straggled, as if without an object, to the spot where Lee Renard was seated. As not Magwa kept the sign in his face long enough to escape all danger from the Canadians, he asked, as though no longer doubtful of the good intelligence established between them, and will not the Chief of William Henry be better pleased to see his daughters before another night may have hardened his heart to their loss to make him less liberal in his reward? Do the pale faces love their children less in the morning than at night? asked the Indian coldly. By no means returned Hayward anxious to recall his error. If he had made one, the white man may, and does often, forget the burial place of his father's. He sometimes ceases to remember those he should love, and is promised to cherish, but the affection of a parent for his child is never permitted to die. And is the heart of the white-headed chief soft? And will he think of the babes that his squalls have given him? He is hard on his warriors, and his eyes are made of stone. He is severe to the idle and wicked, but to the sober and deserving he is a leader, both just and humane. I have known many fawn and tender parents, but never have I seen a man whose heart was softer toward his child. You have seen the gray head in front of his warriors, Makwa, but I have seen his eyes swimming in water when he spoke of those children who are now in your power. Hayward paused, for he knew not how to construe the remarkable expression that gleamed across the swarthy features of the attempt of Indian. At first it seemed as if the remembrance of the promised reward grew vivid in his mind while he listened to the sources of parental feeling which were to assure its possession. But, as Duncan preceded, the expression of joy became so fiercely malignant that it was impossible not to apprehend it preceded from some passion more sinister than avarice. Go! said the Huron, suppressing the alarming exhibition in an instant, in a deathlike calmness of calmness. Go to the dark-cared daughter and say, Makwa wants to speak. The father will remember what the child promises. Duncan, who interpreted this speech to express a wish for some additional pledge, that the promised gifts should not be withheld, slowly and reluctantly repaired to the place where the sisters were now resting from their fatigue, to communicate its purport to Cora. You understand the nature of an Indian's wishes. He concluded, as he led her toward the place where she was expected, and must be prodigal of your offers of powder and blankets. Art and spirits are, however, the most prized by such as he, nor would it be amiss to add some boon from your own hand, with that grace you so well know how to practice. Remember, Cora, that on your presence of mind and ingenuity, even your life, as well as that of Alice, may in some measure depend. Heyward, and yours! Mine is of little moment. It is already sold to my king, and is apprised to be seized by any enemy who may possess the power. I have no father to expect me, and but few friends till a mint of fate which I have courted with the insatiable longings of youth after distinction. But hush, we approach the Indian. Markwa, the lady with whom you wish to speak, is here. The Indian rose slowly from his seat and stood for near a minute silent and motionless. He then sighed with his hand for Heyward to retire, saying coldly, When the Huron talks to the women, his tribe shut their ears. Duncan still lingering, as if refusing to comply. Cora said with a calm smile, You hear Heyward, and delicacy at least should urge you to retire. Go to Alice, and comfort her with our reviving prospects. She waited until he had departed, and then turning to the native, with a dignity of her sex in her voice and manner, she added. What would Lirenard say to the daughter of Monroe? Listen! said the Indian, laying his hand firmly upon her arm, as if willing to draw her utmost attention to his words. A movement that Cora as firmly but quietly repulsed, but extricating the limb from his grasp. Markwa was born a chief and a warrior among the red Hurons of the lakes. He saw the sons of twenty summers make the snows of twenty winters run off in the streams before he saw a pale face, and he was happy. Then his Canadian fathers came into the woods and taught him to drink the fire water. And he became a rascal. The Hurons drove him from the graves of his fathers, as they would chase the hunted buffalo. He ran down the shores of the lakes, and followed their outlet to the city of Canon. There he hunted and fished, till the people chased him again through the woods into the arms of his enemies. The chief, who was born a Huron, was at last a warrior among the Mohawks. Something like this I had heard before, said Cora, observing that he paused to suppress those passions which began to burn with too bright a flame, as he recalled the recollection of his supposed injuries. Was it the thought of Lurinard that his head was not made of rock? Who gave him the fire water? Who made him a villain? It was the pale faces, the people of your own color. Am I answerable that thoughtless and unprincipled men exist? Whose shades of calmness may resemble mine? Cora calmly demanded of the excited savage. No. Makwa is a man and not a fool. Such as you never opened their lips to the burning stream. The great spirit has given you wisdom. What then have I to do or say in the matter of your misfortunes? Not to say, of your hairs. Listen, repeated the Indian, resuming his earnest attitude. When his English and French fathers dug up the hatchet, Lurinard struck the war post of the Mohawks and went out against his own nation. The pale faces have driven the red skins from their hunting grounds, and now when they fight, a white man leads the way. The old chief at Horikin, your father, was the great captain of our war party. He said to the Mohawks, do this and do that. And he was minded. He made a law that if an Indian swallowed the fire water and came into the cloth wigwams of his warriors, it should not be forgotten. Makwa foolish opened his mouth, and the hot liquor led him into the cabin of Monroe. What did the greyhead let his daughter say? He forgot not his words and did justice. By punishing the offender, said the undone to daughter, Justice, repeated the Indian, casting an oblique glance of the most ferocious expression at her unyielding condense. Is it justice to make evil and then punish for it? Makwa was not himself. It was the fire water that spoke and acted for him. But Monroe did believe it. The Iran chief was tied up before all the pale-faced warriors and whipped like a dog. Kora remained silent, for she knew not how to paliate this imprudent severity on the part of her father, in a manner to suit the comprehension of an Indian. See! continued Makwa, tearing aside the slight calico that very imperfectly concealed his painted breast. Here are scars given by knives and bullets. Of these a warrior may boast before his nation. But the greyhead has left marks on the back of the Iran chief that he must hide like a squaw under this painted cloth of the whites. I had thought, resumed Kora, that an Indian warrior was patient, and that his spirit felt not, and knew not the pain his body suffered. When the Chippewa's tied Makwa to the stake and cut this scash, said the other, laying his finger on a deep scar, the Huron laughed in their faces and told them, Women struck so light. His spirit was then in the clouds, but when he felt the blows of Monroe, his spirit lay under the birch. The spirit of a Huron is never drunk. It remembers forever. But it may be appeased. If my father has done you this injustice, show him how an Indian can forgive an injury, and take back his daughters. You have heard from Major Hayward, Makwa shook his head, forbidding the repetition of offers he so much despised. What would you have, continued Kora, after a most painful pause, while the conviction forced itself on her mind that the two sanguine and generous stunken had been cruelly deceived by the cunning savage. What a Huron loves! Good for good. Bad for bad. You would then revenge the injury inflicted by Monroe on his helpless daughters. Would it not be more like a man to go before his face and take the satisfaction of a warrior? The arms of a pale face are long, and their knives sharp return the savage with a milling that laugh. Why should Renard go among the muskets of his warriors when he holds the spirit of the gray head in his hand? Name your intention, Makwa, said Kora, struggling with herself to speak with steady calmness. Is it to lead us prisoners to the woods? Or do you contemplate some greater evil? Is there no reward, no means of paliating the injury, and of softening your heart? At least release my gentle sister, and pour out your malice on me. Purchase wealth by her safety, and satisfy your revenge with a single victim. The loss of both his daughters might bring the aged man to his grave, and where would then be the satisfaction of Lydri Nard? Listen, said the Indian again. The light-eyes go back to the Horegan and tell the old chief what has been done, if the dark-haired woman will swear by the great spirit of her father's to tell no lie. What must I promise? demanded Kora, still maintaining a secret ascendancy over the fierce native by the collected and feminine dignity of her presence. When Makwa left his people, his wife was given to another chief. He has now made friends with the Hurons, and will go back to the graves of his tribe on the shores of the Great Lake. Let the daughter of the English chief follow, and live in his wigwam forever. However revolting a proposal of such a character might prove to Kora, she retained, notwithstanding her powerful disgust, sufficient self-command to reply, without betraying the weakness. And what pleasure would Makwa find in sharing his cabin with a wife he did not love, one who would be of a nation and color different from his own? It would be better to take the gold of Monroe, and buy the heart of some Huron made with his gifts. The Indian made no reply for near a minute, but bent his fierce looks on the countenance of Kora in such wavering glances that her eye sank with shame, under an impression that for the first time they had encountered an expression that no chaste female might endure. While she was shrinking within herself, in dread of having her ears wounded by some proposal still more shocking than the last, the voice of Makwa answered in its tones of deepest malignancy. When this blow scorched the back of the Huron, he would know where to find a woman to feel the smart. The daughter of Monroe would draw his water, hoe his corn, and cock his venison. The body of the gray head would sleep among his cannon, but his heart would lie within reach of the knife of lace up till. Monster, well does thou deserve thy treacherous name, cried Kora, in an ungovernable burst of filial indignation. None but a fiend could mediate such a vengeance, but thou over radus thy power. You shall find it is in truth the heart of Monroe you hold, and that it will defy your utmost malice. The Indian answered this bold defiance by a ghastly smile that showed an unaltered purpose while he motioned her away as if to close the conference for ever. Kora, already regretting her precipitation, was obliged to comply, for Makwa instantly left the spot and approached his gluttonous comrades. Heyward flew to the side of the agitated female and demanded the result of a dialogue that he had watched at a distance with so much interest, but unwilling to alarm the fears of Alice, she evaded a direct reply, betraying only by her anxious looks fastened on the slightest movements of her captors. To the reiterated and earnest questions of her sister concerning their probable destination, she made no other answer than by pointing toward the dark group, with an agitation she could not control, and murmuring as she folded Alice to her bosom, There, there, read our fortunes in their faces. We shall see, we shall see. The action and the choked utterance of Kora spoke more impressively than any words, and quickly drew the attention of her companions on that spot where her own was riveted with an intenseness that nothing but the importance of the state could create. When Makwa reached the cluster of lawling savages, who, gorged with their disgusting meal, lay stretched on the earth in brutal indulgence, he commenced speaking with the dignity of an Indian chief. The first syllables he uttered had the effect to cause his listeners to raise themselves in attitudes of respectful attention. As the Huron used his native language, the prisoners, notwithstanding the caution of the natives had kept them within swing of their tomahawks, could only conjecture the substance of his harangue from the nature of those significant gestures with which an Indian always illustrates his eloquence. At first the language as well as the action of Makwa appeared calm and deliberative. When he had succeeded in sufficiently awakening the attention of his comrades, Hayward fancied by his pointing so frequently toward the direction of the Great Lakes that he spoke of the land of their fathers and of their distant tribe. Frequent indications of applause escaped the listeners, who, as they uttered the expressive, looked at each other in commendation to the speaker. Le Renard was too skillful to neglect his advantage. He now spoke of the long and painful route by which they had left those spacious grounds and happy villages to come in battle against the enemies of their Canadian fathers. He enumerated the warriors of the party, their several merits, their frequent services to the nation, their wounds, the number of scalps they had taken. Whenever he alluded to any present, and the subtle Indian neglected none, the dark countenance of the flattered individual gleamed with exultation. Nor did he even hesitate to assert the truth of the words by gestures of applause and confirmation. Then the voice of the speaker fell and lost the loud animated tones of triumph, with which he had enumerated their deeds of success and victory. He described the cataract of glens, the impregnable position of its rocky island with its caverns and its numerous rapids and whirlpools. He named the name of La Long Carabine, and paused until the forest beneath them had sent up the last echo of a loud and long yell with which the hated appellation was received. He pointed toward the youthful military captive, and described the death of a favorite warrior, had been precipitated into the deep ravine by his hand. He not only mentioned the fate of him who, hanging between heaven and earth, had presented such a spectacle of horror to the whole band, but he acted anew the terrors of his situation, his resolution, and his death on the branches of a sapling. And, finally, he rapidly recounted the manner in which each of their friends had fallen, never failing to touch upon their courage and their most acknowledged virtues. When this recital of events was ended, his voice once more changed and became plaintive and even musical in its low guttural sounds. He now spoke of the wives and children of the slain, their destitution, their misery, both physical and moral, their distance, and, at last, of their unevenged wrongs. Then, suddenly lifting his voice through a pitch of terrific energy, he concluded by demanding, Are the Huron's dogs to bear this? Who shall say to the wife and Menakwa that the fishes have his scalp, and that his nation have not taken revenge? Who will dare meet the mother of Wasatimi, that scornful woman, with his hands clean? What shall be said to the old men when they ask us for scouts? And we have not a hair from a white head to give them. The women will point their fingers at us. There is a dark spot on the name of the Hurons, and it must be head in blood. His voice was no longer audible in the burst of rage which now broke into the air, as if the wood, instead of containing so small a band, was filled with the nation. During the foregoing address, the progress of the speaker was too plainly read by those most interested in his success through the medium of the countenances of the men he addressed. They had answered his melancholy in mourning by sympathy and sorrow. His assertions by the gestures of confirmation and his boasting with the exultation of savages. When he spoke of courage their looks were firm and responsive. When he alluded to their injuries, their eyes kindled with fury when he mentioned the taunts of the women. They dropped their heads in shame, but when he pointed out their means of vengeance he struck a chord which never failed to thrill in the breast of an Indian. With the first intimation that it was within their reach, the whole band sprang upon their feet as one man. Giving utterance to their rage in the most frantic cries, they rushed upon their prisoners in a body with drawn knives and uplifted tomahawks. Hayward threw himself between the sisters and the foremost, whom he grappled with a desperate strength that for a moment checked his violence. The unexpected resistance gave Makwa time to interpose, and with rapid enunciation and animated gesture he drew the attention of the band again to himself. In that language he knew so well how to assume. He diverted his comrades from their instant purpose and invited them to prolong the misery of their victims. His proposal was received with acclamations and executed with the swiftness of thought. Two powerful warriors cast themselves on Hayward, while another was occupied in securing the less active singing master. Neither of the captives, however, submitted without a desperate, though fruitless, struggle. Even David hurled his assailant to the earth, nor was Hayward secured until the victory over his companion enabled the Indians to direct their united force on that object. He was then bound and fastened to the body of the sapling, on whose branches Makwa had acted the pantomime of the falling Huron. When the young soldier regained his recollection he had the painful certainty before his eyes that a common fate was intended for the whole party. On his right was Korra, in adorance similar to his own, pale and agitated, but with an eye whose steady look still read the proceedings of her enemies. On his left the wives, which bound her to a pine, performed that office for Alice, which her trembling limbs refused, and alone kept her fragile form from sinking. Her hands were clasped before her in prayer. But instead of looking upward toward the power which alone could rescue them, her unconscious looks wandered to the countenance of Duncan, with infantile dependency. David had contended, and the novelty of the circumstance held him silent in deliberation of the propriety of the unusual occurrence. The vengeance of the Hurons had now taken a new direction, and they prepared to execute it with that barbarous ingenuity with which they were familiarized by the practice of centuries. Some sought knots to raise the blazing pile. One was writhing the splinters of pine in order to pierce the flesh of their captives with the burning fragments, and others bent the tops of two samplings to the earth in order to suspend Hayward by the arms between the recoiling branches. But the vengeance of Mokwa sought a deeper and more malignant enjoyment. While the less refined monsters of the band prepared before the eyes of those who were to suffer, those well-known and vulgar means of torture, he approached Cora and pointed out, with the most malign expression of countenance, the speedy fate that awaited her. Ha! he added. What says the daughter of Monroe? Her head is too good to find a pillow in the wigwam of Lennard. Will she like it better when it rolls about this hill a plaything for the wolves? Her bosom cannot nurse the children of a year on. She will see it spit upon by Indians. What means the monster? demanded the astonished Hayward. Nothing! was the firm reply. He is a savage, a barbarous and ignorant savage, and knows not what he does. Let us find leisure with our dying breath to ask for him penitence and pardon. Pardon! echoed the fierce she-ron, mistaking in his anger the meaning of her words. The memory of an Indian is no longer than the arm of the palefaces. His mercy, shorter than their justice. Say, shall I send the yellow hair to her father, and will you follow Mokwa to the Great Lakes to carry his floater, and feed him with corn? Korra beckoned him away, with an emotion of disgust she could not control. Leave me! she said, with a solemnity that for a moment checked the barbarity of the Indian. You mingle bitterness with my prayers. You stand between me and my God! The slight impression produced on the savage was however soon forgotten, and he continued, pointing with taunting irony toward Alice. Look! the child weeps. She's too young to die. Send her to Monroe, to comb his gray hairs, and keep life in the heart of the old man. Korra could not resist the desire to look upon her youthful sister, in whose eyes she met an imploring glance that betrayed the longings of nature. What says he, there is Korra? Asked the trembling voice of Alice. Did he speak of sending me to her father? For many moments the elder sister looked upon the younger, with accountants that wavered with powerful and contending emotions. At length she spoke, though her tones had lost their rich and calm fullness, in an expression of tenderness that seemed maternal. Alice, she said. The Huron offers us both life. They, more than both, he offers to restore Duncan, our invaluable Duncan, as well as you, to our friends, to our father, to our heart-stricken, childless father. If I were bowed down this rebellious stubborn pride of mine and consent— Her voice became choked, and clasping her hand she looked upward, as if seeking, in her agony, intelligence from a wisdom that was infinite. Say on! cried Alice. To what, dearest Korra? Oh, that the proffer were made to me, to save you, to cheer our aged father, to restore Duncan. How cheerfully would I die? Die! repeated Korra, with a calmer and firmer voice. That were easy. Perhaps the alternative may not be la sole. He would have me— She continued, her accent sinking under a deep consciousness of the degradation of the proposal. Follow him to the wilderness. Go to the habitations of the Hurons. To remain there, in short, to become his wife. Speak, then, Alice, child of my affections, sister of my love. And you, too, Major Hayward, aid my weak reason with your counsel. Is life to be purchased by such a sacrifice? Will you, Alice, receive it at my hands at such a price? And you, Duncan, guide me. Control me between you, for I am wholly yours. Would I? echoed the indignant and astonished youth. Korra, Korra, you're just with our misery. Name not the horrid alternative again. The thought itself is worse than a thousand deaths. That such would be your answer I well knew, exclaimed Korra, her cheeks flushing, and her dark eyes once more sparkling with the lingering emotions of a woman. What says my Alice? For her I will submit without another murmur. Although both Hayward and Korra listened with painful suspense, and the deepest attention, no sounds were heard in reply. It appeared as if the delicate and sensitive form of Alice would shrink into itself as she listened to this proposal. Her arms had fallen lengthwise before her, the fingers moving in slight convulsions, her head dropped upon her bosom, and her whole person seemed suspended against the tree, looking like some beautiful emblem of the wounded delicacy of her sex, devoid of animation and yet keenly conscious. In a few moments, however, her head began to move slowly, in a deep sign of unconquerable disapprobation. No, no, no, better that we die as we have lived. Together, then die! shouted Mokwa, hurling his tomahawk with violence at the unresisting speaker, and gnashing his teeth with a rage that could no longer be bridled at this sudden exhibition of firmness in the one he believed the weakest of the party. The ax cleaved the air in front of Hayward and cutting some of the flowing ringlets of Alice, quivered in the tree above her head. The sight maddened Duncan to desperation. Collecting all his energies in one effort he snapped the twigs which bound him and rushed upon another savage, who was preparing with loud yells and a more deliberate aim to repeat the blow. They encountered, grappled, and fell to the earth together. The naked body of his antagonist afforded Hayward no means of holding his adversary, who glided from his grasp and rose again with one knee on his chest, pressing him down with the weight of a giant. Duncan already saw the knife gleaming in the air when a whistling sound swept past him and was rather accompanying than followed by the sharp crack of a rifle. He felt his breast relieve from the load it had endured. He saw the savage expression of his adversary's countenance change to a look of vacant wildness, when the Indian fell dead on the faded leaves by his side.