After a short delay, a few of the young men, to whom instructions had been whispered by one of the aged attendants of Tamenund, 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 re-appeared, escorting the individuals who had caused all these solemn preparations, towards 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.
CHAPTER XII.
“The assembly seated, rising o’er the rest,
Achilles thus the king of men address’d.”
Pope’s Homer.
Cora stood foremost among the prisoners, entwining her arms in those of Alice, in the fondest 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 noble-minded maiden from keeping her eyes fastened on the pale and anxious features of the trembling Alice. Close at their side stood Heyward, with an interest in both, that, at such a moment of intense uncertainty, scarcely knew a preponderance in favour of her whom he most loved. Hawk-eye 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. Uncas was not among them.
When perfect silence was again restored, and after the usual, long, impressive pause, one of the two aged chiefs, who sate at the side of the patriarch, arose, and demanded aloud, in very intelligible English–
“Which of my prisoners is la Longue Carabine?”
Neither Duncan nor the scout made any answer. The former, however, glanced his eyes around the dark and silent assembly, and recoiled a pace, when they fell on the malignant visage of Magua. 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 the 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 any or 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 deeds shall speak for us!”
“This is the warrior whose name has filled our ears!” returned the chief, regarding Heyward with that sort of curious interest, which seems inseparable from 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 Delawares?”
“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 Delawares are the enemies, and not the friends, of the Yengeese. Go– your mouth has spoken, while your heart has said nothing.”
Duncan, a little at a loss in what manner to proceed, remained silent; but the scout, who had listened attentively to all that passed, now advanced boldly to the front, and assumed the task of explaining.
“That I did not answer to the call for la Longue Carabine, was not owing 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 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 all a lie; ‘kill-deer’ being a genuine grooved barrel, and no carabyne. I am the man, however, that got the name of Nathaniel from my kin; the compliment of Hawk-eye from the Delawares, 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, towards the upright, iron frame of this new pretender to so distinguished an appellation. It was in no degree remarkable, that there should be found two who were willing to claim so great an honour, for impostors, though rare, were not unknown amongst the natives; but it was altogether material to the just and severe intentions of the Delawares, 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 visiter on the subject.
“My brother has said that a snake crept into my camp,” said the chief to Magua; “which is he?”
The Huron pointed to the scout, but continued silent.
“Will a wise Delaware believe the barking of a wolf!” exclaimed Duncan, still more confirmed in the evil intentions of his ancient enemy; “a dog never lies, but when was a wolf known to speak the truth!”
The eyes of Magua 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 prisoners guns, and let them prove which is the man.”
Magua 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 skilful 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.
Heyward smiled to himself, at the idea of such a competition with the scout, though he determined to persevere in the deception, until apprised of the designs of Magua. Raising his rifle, then, 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 singular proof of great skill in the use of the weapon. Even Hawk-eye nodded his head, as if he would say, it was better than he had 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 deep thought. From this reverie he was, however, speedily 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 Magua, with as much apparent ease as though it were a reed; “yes, Huron, I could strike you now, and no power of ’arth could prevent the deed! The soaring hawk is not 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 colour 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 flushed countenance, angry eye, and swelling figure of the scout, produced a sensation of secret awe in all that heard him. The Delawares held their breath in intense expectation; but Magua himself, even while he distrusted the forbearance of his enemy, remained as immovable and calm, where he stood, wedged in by the crowd, as though he grew to the fatal spot.
“Beat it,” repeated the young Delaware at the elbow of the scout.
“Beat what; fool!–what!”–exclaimed Hawk-eye, still flourishing the weapon angrily above his head, though his eye no longer sought the person of Magua.
“If the white man is the warrior he pretends,” said the aged chief, “let him strike nigher to the mark.”
The scout laughed tauntingly, and aloud–a noise that produced the startling effect of unnatural sounds on Heyward–and then dropping the piece, heavily, into his extended left hand, it was discharged, apparently by the shock, driving the fragments of the vessel high into the air, and scattering them on every side of the stump. Almost at the same instant, the heavy rattling sound of the rifle was heard, as he suffered it to fall, contemptuously, to the earth.