mradermacher/Qwen-14b-chat-yarn-32k-GGUF
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The dataset generation failed because of a cast error
Error code: DatasetGenerationCastError
Exception: DatasetGenerationCastError
Message: An error occurred while generating the dataset
All the data files must have the same columns, but at some point there are 3 new columns ({'QA_new', 'input_ids_len', 'QA'})
This happened while the json dataset builder was generating data using
zip://╨┬░µ▒╛-╠ß╜╗-╔╛│²╘¡╬─╕┤╩÷/single_doc_qa_en_no_paraphrasing.json::/tmp/hf-datasets-cache/medium/datasets/55597974511431-config-parquet-and-info-yuyijiong-Long-Instructio-3f86de7d/downloads/d12c5beee3dc3fb7226abc7eb237e6062bcd6e8701c41c1b9de474f735004336
Please either edit the data files to have matching columns, or separate them into different configurations (see docs at https://hf.co/docs/hub/datasets-manual-configuration#multiple-configurations)
Traceback: Traceback (most recent call last):
File "/src/services/worker/.venv/lib/python3.9/site-packages/datasets/builder.py", line 2011, in _prepare_split_single
writer.write_table(table)
File "/src/services/worker/.venv/lib/python3.9/site-packages/datasets/arrow_writer.py", line 585, in write_table
pa_table = table_cast(pa_table, self._schema)
File "/src/services/worker/.venv/lib/python3.9/site-packages/datasets/table.py", line 2302, in table_cast
return cast_table_to_schema(table, schema)
File "/src/services/worker/.venv/lib/python3.9/site-packages/datasets/table.py", line 2256, in cast_table_to_schema
raise CastError(
datasets.table.CastError: Couldn't cast
QA: list<item: struct<question: string, answer: string>>
child 0, item: struct<question: string, answer: string>
child 0, question: string
child 1, answer: string
input_ids_len: int64
QA_new: list<item: struct<question: string, answer: string>>
child 0, item: struct<question: string, answer: string>
child 0, question: string
child 1, answer: string
messages: list<item: struct<role: string, content: string>>
child 0, item: struct<role: string, content: string>
child 0, role: string
child 1, content: string
to
{'messages': [{'role': Value(dtype='string', id=None), 'content': Value(dtype='string', id=None)}]}
because column names don't match
During handling of the above exception, another exception occurred:
Traceback (most recent call last):
File "/src/services/worker/src/worker/job_runners/config/parquet_and_info.py", line 1323, in compute_config_parquet_and_info_response
parquet_operations = convert_to_parquet(builder)
File "/src/services/worker/src/worker/job_runners/config/parquet_and_info.py", line 938, in convert_to_parquet
builder.download_and_prepare(
File "/src/services/worker/.venv/lib/python3.9/site-packages/datasets/builder.py", line 1027, in download_and_prepare
self._download_and_prepare(
File "/src/services/worker/.venv/lib/python3.9/site-packages/datasets/builder.py", line 1122, in _download_and_prepare
self._prepare_split(split_generator, **prepare_split_kwargs)
File "/src/services/worker/.venv/lib/python3.9/site-packages/datasets/builder.py", line 1882, in _prepare_split
for job_id, done, content in self._prepare_split_single(
File "/src/services/worker/.venv/lib/python3.9/site-packages/datasets/builder.py", line 2013, in _prepare_split_single
raise DatasetGenerationCastError.from_cast_error(
datasets.exceptions.DatasetGenerationCastError: An error occurred while generating the dataset
All the data files must have the same columns, but at some point there are 3 new columns ({'QA_new', 'input_ids_len', 'QA'})
This happened while the json dataset builder was generating data using
zip://╨┬░µ▒╛-╠ß╜╗-╔╛│²╘¡╬─╕┤╩÷/single_doc_qa_en_no_paraphrasing.json::/tmp/hf-datasets-cache/medium/datasets/55597974511431-config-parquet-and-info-yuyijiong-Long-Instructio-3f86de7d/downloads/d12c5beee3dc3fb7226abc7eb237e6062bcd6e8701c41c1b9de474f735004336
Please either edit the data files to have matching columns, or separate them into different configurations (see docs at https://hf.co/docs/hub/datasets-manual-configuration#multiple-configurations)Need help to make the dataset viewer work? Make sure to review how to configure the dataset viewer, and open a discussion for direct support.
messages
list |
|---|
[
{
"role": "user",
"content": "Chapter: \"Mine ear is open, and my heart prepared:\n The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold:\n Say, is my kingdom lost?\"\n\n SHAKESPEARE.\n\nIt was a feature peculiar to the colonial wars of North America, that\nthe toils and dangers of the wilderness were to be encountered before\nthe adverse hosts could meet. A wide and apparently an impervious\nboundary of forests severed the possessions of the hostile provinces of\nFrance and England. The hardy colonist, and the trained European who\nfought at his side, frequently expended months in struggling against the\nrapids of the streams, or in effecting the rugged passes of the\nmountains, in quest of an opportunity to exhibit their courage in a more\nmartial conflict. But, emulating the patience and self-denial of the\npractised native warriors, they learned to overcome every difficulty;\nand it would seem that, in time, there was no recess of the woods so\ndark, nor any secret place so lovely, that it might claim exemption from\nthe inroads of those who had pledged their blood to satiate their\nvengeance, or to uphold the cold and selfish policy of the distant\nmonarchs of Europe.\n\nPerhaps no district throughout the wide extent of the intermediate\nfrontiers can furnish a livelier picture of the cruelty and fierceness\nof the savage warfare of those periods than the country which lies\nbetween the head waters of the Hudson and the adjacent lakes.\n\nThe facilities which nature had there offered to the march of the\ncombatants were too obvious to be neglected. The lengthened sheet of the\nChamplain stretched from the frontiers of Canada, deep within the\nborders of the neighboring province of New York, forming a natural\npassage across half the distance that the French were compelled to\nmaster in order to strike their enemies. Near its southern termination,\nit received the contributions of another lake, whose waters were so\nlimpid as to have been exclusively selected by the Jesuit missionaries\nto perform the typical purification of baptism, and to obtain for it the\ntitle of lake \"du Saint Sacrement.\" The less zealous English thought\nthey conferred a sufficient honor on its unsullied fountains, when they\nbestowed the name of their reigning prince, the second of the house of\nHanover. The two united to rob the untutored possessors of its wooded\nscenery of their native right to perpetuate its original appellation of\n\"Horican.\"[1]\n\nWinding its way among countless islands, and imbedded in mountains, the\n\"holy lake\" extended a dozen leagues still farther to the south. With\nthe high plain that there interposed itself to the further passage of\nthe water, commenced a portage of as many miles, which conducted the\nadventurer to the banks of the Hudson, at a point where, with the usual\nobstructions of the rapids, or rifts, as they were then termed in the\nlanguage of the country, the river became navigable to the tide.\n\nWhile, in the pursuit of their daring plans of annoyance, the restless\nenterprise of the French even attempted the distant and difficult gorges\nof the Alleghany, it may easily be imagined that their proverbial\nacuteness would not overlook the natural advantages of the district we\nhave just described. It became, emphatically, the bloody arena, in which\nmost of the battles for the mastery of the colonies were contested.\nForts were erected at the different points that commanded the facilities\nof the route, and were taken and retaken, razed and rebuilt, as victory\nalighted on the hostile banners. While the husbandman shrank back from\nthe dangerous passes, within the safer boundaries of the more ancient\nsettlements, armies larger than those that had often disposed of the\nsceptres of the mother countries, were seen to bury themselves in these\nforests, whence they rarely returned but in skeleton bands, that were\nhaggard with care, or dejected by defeat. Though the arts of peace were\nunknown to this fatal region, its forests were alive with men; its\nshades and glens rang with the sounds of martial music, and the echoes\nof its mountains threw back the laugh, or repeated the wanton cry, of\nmany a gallant and reckless youth, as he hurried by them, in the\nnoontide of his spirits, to slumber in a long night of forgetfulness.\n\nIt was in this scene of strife and bloodshed that the incidents we shall\nattempt to relate occurred, during the third year of the war which\nEngland and France last waged for the possession of a country that\nneither was destined to retain.\n\nThe imbecility of her military leaders abroad, and the fatal want of\nenergy in her councils at home, had lowered the character of Great\nBritain from the proud elevation on which it had been placed, by the\ntalents and enterprise of her former warriors and statesmen. No longer\ndreaded by her enemies, her servants were fast losing the confidence of\nself-respect. In this mortifying abasement, the colonists, though\ninnocent of her imbecility, and too humble to be the agents of her\nblunders, were but the natural participators.\n\nThey had recently seen a chosen army from that country, which,\nreverencing as a mother, they had blindly believed invincible--an army\nled by a chief who had been selected from a crowd of trained warriors,\nfor his rare military endowments, disgracefully routed by a handful of\nFrench and Indians, and only saved from annihilation by the coolness and\nspirit of a Virginian boy, whose riper fame has since diffused itself,\nwith the steady influence of moral truth, to the uttermost confines of\nChristendom.[2] A wide frontier had been laid naked by this unexpected\ndisaster, and more substantial evils were preceded by a thousand\nfanciful and imaginary dangers. The alarmed colonists believed that the\nyells of the savages mingled with every fitful gust of wind that issued\nfrom the interminable forests of the west. The terrific character of\ntheir merciless enemies increased immeasurably the natural horrors of\nwarfare. Numberless recent massacres were still vivid in their\nrecollections; nor was there any ear in the provinces so deaf as not to\nhave drunk in with avidity the narrative of some fearful tale of\nmidnight murder, in which the natives of the forests were the principal\nand barous actors. As the credulous and excited traveller related the\nhazardous chances of the wilderness, the blood of the timid curdled\nwith terror, and mothers cast anxious glances even at those children\nwhich slumbered within the security of the largest towns. In short, the\nmagnifying influence of fear began to set at naught the calculations of\nreason, and to render those who should have remembered their manhood,\nthe slaves of the basest of passions. Even the most confident and the\nstoutest hearts began to think the issue of the contest was becoming\ndoubtful; and that abject class was hourly increasing in numbers, who\nthought they foresaw all the possessions of the English crown in America\nsubdued by their Christian foes, or laid waste by the inroads of their\nrelentless allies.\n\nWhen, therefore, intelligence was received at the fort, which covered\nthe southern termination of the portage between the Hudson and the\nlakes, that Montcalm had been seen moving up the Champlain, with an army\n\"numerous as the leaves on the trees,\" its truth was admitted with more\nof the craven reluctance of fear than with the stern joy that a warrior\nshould feel, in finding an enemy within reach of his blow. The news had\nbeen brought, towards the decline of a day in midsummer, by an Indian\nrunner, who also bore an urgent request from Munro, the commander of a\nwork on the shore of the \"holy lake,\" for a speedy and powerful\nreinforcement. It has already been mentioned that the distance between\nthese two posts was less than five leagues. The rude path, which\noriginally formed their line of communication, had been widened for the\npassage of wagons; so that the distance which had been travelled by the\nson of the forest in two hours, might easily be effected by a detachment\nof troops, with their necessary baggage, between the rising and setting\nof a summer sun. The loyal servants of the British crown had given to\none of these forest fastnesses the name of William Henry, and to the\nother that of Fort Edward; calling each after a favorite prince of the\nreigning family. The veteran Scotchman just named held the first, with a\nregiment of regulars and a few provincials; a force really by far too\nsmall to make head against the formidable power that Montcalm was\nleading to the foot of his earthen mounds. At the latter, however, lay\nGeneral Webb, who commanded the armies of the king in the northern\nprovinces, with a body of more than five thousand men. By uniting the\nseveral detachments of his command, this officer might have arrayed\nnearly double that number of combatants against the enterprising\nFrenchman, who had ventured so far from his reinforcements, with an army\nbut little superior in numbers.\n\nBut under the influence of their degraded fortunes, both officers and\nmen appeared better disposed to await the approach of their formidable\nantagonists, within their works, than to resist the progress of their\nmarch, by emulating the successful example of the French at Fort du\nQuesne, and striking a blow on their advance.\n\nAfter the first surprise of the intelligence had a little abated, a\nrumor was spread through the entrenched camp, which stretched along the\nmargin of the Hudson, forming a chain of outworks to the body of the\nfort itself, that a chosen detachment of fifteen hundred men was to\ndepart, with the dawn, for William Henry, the post at the northern\nextremity of the portage. That which at first was only rumor, soon\nbecame certainty, as orders passed from the quarters of the\ncommander-in-chief to the several corps he had selected for this\nservice, to prepare for their speedy departure. All doubt as to the\nintention of Webb now vanished, and an hour or two of hurried footsteps\nand anxious faces succeeded. The novice in the military art flew from\npoint to point, retarding his own preparations by the excess of his\nviolent and somewhat distempered zeal; while the more practised veteran\nmade his arrangements with a deliberation that scorned every appearance\nof haste; though his sober lineaments and anxious eye sufficiently\nbetrayed that he had no very strong professional relish for the as yet\nuntried and dreaded warfare of the wilderness. At length the sun set in\na flood of glory, behind the distant western hills, and as darkness drew\nits veil around the secluded spot the sounds of preparation diminished;\nthe last light finally disappeared from the log cabin of some officer;\nthe trees cast their deeper shadows over the mounds and the rippling\nstream, and a silence soon pervaded the camp, as deep as that which\nreigned in the vast forest by which it was environed.\n\nAccording to the orders of the preceding night, the heavy sleep of the\narmy was broken by the rolling of the warning drums, whose rattling\nechoes were heard issuing, on the damp morning air, out of every vista\nof the woods, just as day began to draw the shaggy outlines of some tall\npines of the vicinity, on the opening brightness of a soft and cloudless\neastern sky. In an instant the whole camp was in motion; the meanest\nsoldier arousing from his lair to witness the departure of his\ncomrades, and to share in the excitement and incidents of the hour. The\nsimple array of the chosen band was soon completed. While the regular\nand trained hirelings of the king marched with haughtiness to the right\nof the line, the less pretending colonists took their humbler position\non its left, with a docility that long practice had rendered easy. The\nscouts departed; strong guards preceded and followed the lumbering\nvehicles that bore the baggage; and before the gray light of the morning\nwas mellowed by the rays of the sun, the main body of the combatants\nwheeled into column, and left the encampment with a show of high\nmilitary bearing, that served to drown the slumbering apprehensions of\nmany a novice, who was now about to make his first essay in arms. While\nin view of their admiring comrades, the same proud front and ordered\narray was observed, until the notes of their fifes growing fainter in\ndistance, the forest at length appeared to swallow up the living mass\nwhich had slowly entered its bosom.\n\nThe deepest sounds of the retiring and invisible column had ceased to be\nborne on the breeze to the listeners, and the latest straggler had\nalready disappeared in pursuit; but there still remained the signs of\nanother departure, before a log cabin of unusual size and\naccommodations, in front of which those sentinels paced their rounds,\nwho were known to guard the person of the English general. At this spot\nwere gathered some half dozen horses, caparisoned in a manner which\nshowed that two, at least, were destined to bear the persons of females,\nof a rank that it was not usual to meet so far in the wilds of the\ncountry. A third wore the trappings and arms of an officer of the staff;\nwhile the rest, from the plainness of the housings, and the travelling\nmails with which they were encumbered, were evidently fitted for the\nreception of as many menials, who were, seemingly, already awaiting the\npleasure of those they served. At a respectful distance from this\nunusual show were gathered divers groups of curious idlers; some\nadmiring the blood and bone of the high-mettled military charger, and\nothers gazing at the preparations, with dull wonder of vulgar curiosity.\nThere was one man, however, who, by his countenance and actions, formed\na marked exception to those who composed the latter class of spectators,\nbeing neither idle, nor seemingly very ignorant.\n\nThe person of this individual was to the last degree ungainly, without\nbeing in any particular manner deformed. He had all the bones and joints\nof other men, without any of their proportions. Erect, his stature\nsurpassed that of his fellows; seated, he appeared reduced within the\nordinary limits of the race. The same contrariety in his members seemed\nto exist throughout the whole man. His head was large; his shoulders\nnarrow; his arms long and dangling; while his hands were small, if not\ndelicate. His legs and thighs were thin, nearly to emaciation, but of\nextraordinary length; and his knees would have been considered\ntremendous, had they not been outdone by the broader foundations on\nwhich this false superstructure of the blended human orders was so\nprofanely reared. The ill-assorted and injudicious attire of the\nindividual only served to render his awkwardness more conspicuous. A\nsky-blue coat, with short and broad skirts and low cape, exposed a long\nthin neck, and longer and thinner legs, to the worst animadversions of\nthe evil disposed. His nether garment was of yellow nankeen, closely\nfitted to the shape, and tied at his bunches of knees by large knots of\nwhite ribbon, a good deal sullied by use. Clouded cotton stockings, and\nshoes, on one of the latter of which was a plated spur, completed the\ncostume of the lower extremity of this figure, no curve or angle of\nwhich was concealed, but, on the other hand, studiously exhibited,\nthrough the vanity or simplicity of its owner. From beneath the flap of\nan enormous pocket of a soiled vest of embossed silk, heavily ornamented\nwith tarnished silver lace, projected an instrument, which, from being\nseen in such martial company, might have been easily mistaken for some\nmischievous and unknown implement of war. Small as it was, this uncommon\nengine had excited the curiosity of most of the Europeans in the camp,\nthough several of the provincials were seen to handle it, not only\nwithout fear, but with the utmost familiarity. A large, civil cocked\nhat, like those worn by clergymen within the last thirty years,\nsurmounted the whole, furnishing dignity to a good-natured and somewhat\nvacant countenance, that apparently needed such artificial aid, to\nsupport the gravity of some high and extraordinary trust.\n\nWhile the common herd stood aloof, in deference to the quarters of Webb,\nthe figure we have described stalked in the centre of the domestics,\nfreely expressing his censures or commendations on the merits of the\nhorses, as by chance they displeased or satisfied his judgment.\n\n\"This beast, I rather conclude, friend, is not of home raising, but is\nfrom foreign lands, or perhaps from the little island itself over the\nblue water?\" he said, in a voice as remarkable for the softness and\nsweetness of its tones, as was his person for its rare proportions: \"I\nmay speak of these things, and be no braggart; for I have been down at\nboth havens; that which is situate at the mouth of Thames, and is named\nafter the capital of Old England, and that which is called 'Haven,' with\nthe addition of the word 'New'; and have seen the snows and brigantines\ncollecting their droves, like the gathering to the ark, being outward\nbound to the Island of Jamaica, for the purpose of barter and traffic in\nfour-footed animals; but never before have I beheld a beast which\nverified the true Scripture war-horse like this: 'He paweth in the\nvalley, and rejoiceth in his strength: he goeth on to meet the armed\nmen. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle\nafar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.' It would seem\nthat the stock of the horse of Israel has descended to our own time;\nwould it not, friend?\"\n\nReceiving no reply to this extraordinary appeal, which in truth, as it\nwas delivered with the vigor of full and sonorous tones, merited some\nsort of notice, he who had thus sung forth the language of the Holy Book\nturned to the silent figure to whom he had unwittingly addressed\nhimself, and found a new and more powerful subject of admiration in the\nobject that encountered his gaze. His eyes fell on the still, upright,\nand rigid form of the \"Indian runner,\" who had borne to the camp the\nunwelcome tidings of the preceding evening. Although in a state of\nperfect repose, and apparently disregarding, with characteristic\nstoicism, the excitement and bustle around him, there was a sullen\nfierceness mingled with the quiet of the savage, that was likely to\narrest the attention of much more experienced eyes than those which now\nscanned him, in unconcealed amazement. The native bore both the tomahawk\nand knife of his tribe; and yet his appearance was not altogether that\nof a warrior. On the contrary, there was an air of neglect about his\nperson, like that which might have proceeded from great and recent\nexertion, which he had not yet found leisure to repair. The colors of\nthe war-paint had blended in dark confusion about his fierce\ncountenance, and rendered his swarthy lineaments still more savage and\nrepulsive than if art had attempted an effect which had been thus\nproduced by chance. His eye, alone, which glistened like a fiery star\namid lowering clouds, was to be seen in its state of native wildness.\nFor a single instant, his searching and yet wary glance met the\nwondering look of the other, and then changing its direction, partly in\ncunning, and partly in disdain, it remained fixed, as if penetrating the\ndistant air.\n\nIt is impossible to say what unlooked-for remark this short and silent\ncommunication, between two such singular men, might have elicited from\nthe white man, had not his active curiosity been again drawn to other\nobjects. A general movement among the domestics, and a low sound of\ngentle voices, announced the approach of those whose presence alone was\nwanted to enable the cavalcade to move. The simple admirer of the\nwar-horse instantly fell back to a low, gaunt, switch-tailed mare, that\nwas unconsciously gleaning the faded herbage of the camp nigh by; where,\nleaning with one elbow on the blanket that concealed an apology for a\nsaddle, he became a spectator of the departure, while a foal was quietly\nmaking its morning repast, on the opposite side of the same animal.\n\nA young man, in the dress of an officer, conducted to their steeds two\nfemales, who, as it was apparent by their dresses, were prepared to\nencounter the fatigues of a journey in the woods. One, and she was the\nmost juvenile in her appearance, though both were young, permitted\nglimpses of her dazzling complexion, fair golden hair, and bright blue\neyes, to be caught, as she artlessly suffered the morning air to blow\naside the green veil which descended low from her beaver. The flush\nwhich still lingered above the pines in the western sky was not more\nbright nor delicate than the bloom on her cheek; nor was the opening day\nmore cheering than the animated smile which she bestowed on the youth,\nas he assisted her into the saddle. The other, who appeared to share\nequally in the attentions of the young officer, concealed her charms\nfrom the gaze of the soldiery, with a care that seemed better fitted to\nthe experience of four or five additional years. It could be seen,\nhowever, that her person, though moulded with the same exquisite\nproportions, of which none of the graces were lost by the travelling\ndress she wore, was rather fuller and more mature than that of her\ncompanion.\n\nNo sooner were these females seated, than their attendant sprang lightly\ninto the saddle of the war-horse, when the whole three bowed to Webb,\nwho, in courtesy, awaited their parting on the threshold of his cabin,\nand turning their horses' heads, they proceeded at a slow amble,\nfollowed by their train, towards the northern entrance of the\nencampment. As they traversed that short distance, not a voice was\nheard amongst them; but a slight exclamation proceeded from the younger\nof the females, as the Indian runner glided by her, unexpectedly, and\nled the way along the military road in her front. Though this sudden and\nstartling movement of the Indian produced no sound from the other, in\nthe surprise her veil also was allowed to open its folds, and betrayed\nan indescribable look of pity, admiration, and horror, as her dark eye\nfollowed the easy motions of the savage. The tresses of this lady were\nshining and black, like the plumage of the raven. Her complexion was not\nbrown, but it rather appeared charged with the color of the rich blood,\nthat seemed ready to burst its bounds. And yet there was neither\ncoarseness nor want of shadowing in a countenance that was exquisitely\nregular and dignified, and surpassingly beautiful. She smiled, as if in\npity at her own momentary forgetfulness, discovering by the act a row of\nteeth that would have shamed the purest ivory; when, replacing the veil,\nshe bowed her face, and rode in silence, like one whose thoughts were\nabstracted from the scene around her.\n\n \"Sola, sola, wo, ha, ho, sola!\"\n\n SHAKESPEARE.\n\nWhile one of the lovely beings we have so cursorily presented to the\nreader was thus lost in thought, the other quickly recovered from the\nalarm which induced the exclamation, and, laughing at her own weakness,\nshe inquired of the youth who rode by her side,--\n\n\"Are such spectres frequent in the woods, Heyward; or is this sight an\nespecial entertainment on our behalf? If the latter, gratitude must\nclose our mouths; but if the former, both Cora and I shall have need to\ndraw largely on that stock of hereditary courage which we boast, even\nbefore we are made to encounter the redoubtable Montcalm.\"\n\n\"Yon Indian is a 'runner' of the army; and, after the fashion of his\npeople, he may be accounted a hero,\" returned the officer. \"He has\nvolunteered to guide us to the lake, by a path but little known, sooner\nthan if we followed the tardy movements of the column: and, by\nconsequence, more agreeably.\"\n\n\"I like him not,\" said the lady, shuddering, partly in assumed, yet more\nin real terror. \"You know him, Duncan, or you would not trust yourself\nso freely to his keeping?\"\n\n\"Say, rather, Alice, that I would not trust you. I do know him, or he\nwould not have my confidence, and least of all at this moment. He is\nsaid to be a Canadian, too; and yet he served with our friends the\nMohawks, who, as you know, are one of the six allied nations.[3] He was\nbrought among us, as I have heard, by some strange accident in which\nyour father was interested, and in which the savage was rigidly dealt\nby--but I forget the idle tale; it is enough, that he is now our\nfriend.\"\n\n\"If he has been my father's enemy, I like him still less!\" exclaimed the\nnow really anxious girl. \"Will you not speak to him, Major Heyward, that\nI may hear his tones? Foolish though it may be, you have often heard me\navow my faith in the tones of the human voice!\"\n\n\"It would be in vain; and answered, most probably, by an ejaculation.\nThough he may understand it, he affects, like most of his people, to be\nignorant of the English; and least of all will he condescend to speak\nit, now that war demands the utmost exercise of his dignity. But he\nstops; the private path by which we are to journey is, doubtless, at\nhand.\"\n\nThe conjecture of Major Heyward was true. When they reached the spot\nwhere the Indian stood, pointing into the thicket that fringed the\nmilitary road, a narrow and blind path, which might, with some little\ninconvenience, receive one person at a time, became visible.\n\n\"Here, then, lies our way,\" said the young man, in a low voice.\n\"Manifest no distrust, or you may invite the danger you appear to\napprehend.\"\n\n\"Cora, what think you?\" asked the reluctant fair one. \"If we journey\nwith the troops, though we may find their presence irksome, shall we not\nfeel better assurance of our safety?\"\n\n\"Being little accustomed to the practices of the savages, Alice, you\nmistake the place of real danger,\" said Heyward. \"If enemies have\nreached the portage at all, a thing by no means probable, as our scouts\nare abroad, they will surely be found skirting the column where scalps\nabound the most. The route of the detachment is known, while ours,\nhaving been determined within the hour, must still be secret.\"\n\n\"Should we distrust the man because his manners are not our manners, and\nthat his skin is dark?\" coldly asked Cora.\n\nAlice hesitated no longer; but giving her Narragansett[4] a smart cut\nof the whip, she was the first to dash aside the slight branches of the\nbushes, and to follow the runner along the dark and tangled pathway. The\nyoung man regarded the last speaker in open admiration, and even\npermitted her fairer though certainly not more beautiful companion to\nproceed unattended, while he sedulously opened the way himself for the\npassage of her who has been called Cora. It would seem that the\ndomestics had been previously instructed; for, instead of penetrating\nthe thicket, they followed the route of the column; a measure which\nHeyward stated had been dictated by the sagacity of their guide, in\norder to diminish the marks of their trail, if, haply, the Canadian\nsavages should be lurking so far in advance of their army. For many\nminutes the intricacy of the route admitted of no further dialogue;\nafter which they emerged from the broad border of underbrush which grew\nalong the line of the highway, and entered under the high but dark\narches of the forest. Here their progress was less interrupted, and the\ninstant the guide perceived that the females could command their steeds,\nhe moved on, at a pace between a trot and a walk, and at a rate which\nkept the sure-footed and peculiar animals they rode, at a fast yet easy\namble. The youth had turned to speak to the dark-eyed Cora, when the\ndistant sound of horses' hoofs, clattering over the roots of the broken\nway in his rear, caused him to check his charger; and, as his companions\ndrew their reins at the same instant, the whole party came to a halt, in\norder to obtain an explanation of the unlooked-for interruption.\n\nIn a few moments a colt was seen gliding, like a fallow-deer, among the\nstraight trunks of the pines; and, in another instant, the person of the\nungainly man described in the preceding chapter, came into view, with as\nmuch rapidity as he could excite his meagre beast to endure without\ncoming to an open rupture. Until now this personage had escaped the\nobservation of the travellers. If he possed the power to arrest any\nwandering eye when exhibiting the glories of his altitude on foot, his\nequestrian graces were still more likely to attract attention.\nNotwithstanding a constant application of his one armed heel to the\nflanks of the mare, the most confirmed gait that he could establish was\na Canterbury gallop with the hind legs, in which those more forward\nassisted for doubtful moments, though generally content to maintain a\nloping trot. Perhaps the rapidity of the changes from one of these paces\nto the other created an optical illusion, which might thus magnify the\npowers of the beast; for it is certain that Heyward, who possed a\ntrue eye for the merits of a horse, was unable, with his utmost\ningenuity, to decide by what sort of movement his pursuer worked his\nsinuous way on his footsteps with such persevering hardihood.\n\nThe industry and movements of the rider were not less remarkable than\nthose of the ridden. At each change in the evolutions of the latter, the\nformer raised his tall person in the stirrups; producing, in this\nmanner, by the undue elongation of his legs, such sudden growths and\ndiminishings of the stature, as baffled every conjecture that might be\nmade as to his dimensions. If to this be added the fact that, in\nconsequence of the ex parte application of the spur, one side of the\nmare appeared to journey faster than the other; and that the aggrieved\nflank was resolutely indicated by unremitted flourishes of a bushy tail,\nwe finish the picture of both horse and man.\n\nThe frown which had gathered around the handsome, open, and manly brow\nof Heyward, gradually relaxed, and his lips curled into a slight smile,\nas he regarded the stranger. Alice made no very powerful effort to\ncontrol her merriment; and even the dark, thoughtful eye of Cora lighted\nwith a humor that, it would seem, the habit, rather than the nature of\nits mistress repressed.\n\n\"Seek you any here?\" demanded Heyward, when the other had arrived\nsufficiently nigh to abate his speed; \"I trust you are no messenger of\nevil tidings?\"\n\n\"Even so,\" replied the stranger, making diligent use of his triangular\ncastor, to produce a circulation in the close air of the woods, and\nleaving his hearers in doubt to which of the young man's questions he\nresponded; when, however, he had cooled his face, and recovered his\nbreath, he continued, \"I hear you are riding to William Henry; as I am\njourneying thitherward myself, I concluded good company would seem\nconsistent to the wishes of both parties.\"\n\n\"You appear to possess the privilege of a casting vote,\" returned\nHeyward; \"we are three, whilst you have consulted no one but yourself.\"\n\n\"Even so. The first point to be obtained is to know one's own mind. Once\nsure of that, and where women are concerned, it is not easy, the next\nis, to act up to the decision. I have endeavored to do both, and here I\nam.\"\n\n\"If you journey to the lake, you have mistaken your route,\" said\nHeyward, haughtily; \"the highway thither is at least half a mile behind\nyou.\"\n\n\"Even so,\" returned the stranger, nothing daunted by this cold\nreception; \"I have tarried at 'Edward' a week, and I should be dumb not\nto have inquired the road I was to journey; and if dumb there would be\nan end to my calling.\" After simpering in a small way, like one whose\nmodesty prohibited a more open expression of his admiration of a\nwitticism that was perfectly unintelligible to his hearers, he\ncontinued: \"It is not prudent for any one of my profession to be too\nfamiliar with those he is to instruct; for which reason I follow not the\nline of the army; besides which, I conclude that a gentleman of your\ncharacter has the best judgment in matters of wayfaring; I have\ntherefore decided to join company, in order that the ride may be made\nagreeable, and partake of social communion.\"\n\n\"A most arbitrary, if not a hasty decision!\" exclaimed Heyward,\nundecided whether to give vent to his growing anger, or to laugh in the\nother's face. \"But you speak of instruction, and of a profession; are\nyou an adjunct to the provincial corps, as a master of the noble science\nof defence and offence; or, perhaps, you are one who draws lines and\nangles, under the pretence of expounding the mathematics?\"\n\nThe stranger regarded his interrogator a moment, in wonder; and then,\nlosing every mark of self-satisfaction in an expression of solemn\nhumility, he answered---\n\n\"Of offence, I hope there is none, to either party: of defence, I make\nnone--by God's good mercy, having committed no palpable sin since last\nentreating his pardoning grace. I understand not your allusions about\nlines and angles; and I leave expounding to those who have been called\nand set apart for that holy office. I lay claim to no higher gift than a\nsmall insight into the glorious art of petitioning and thanksgiving, as\npractised in psalmody.\"\n\n\"The man is, most manifestly, a disciple of Apollo,\" cried the amused\nAlice, \"and I take him under my own especial protection. Nay, throw\naside that frown, Heyward, and in pity to my longing ears, suffer him to\njourney in our train. Besides,\" she added, in a low and hurried voice,\ncasting a glance at the distant Cora, who slowly followed the footsteps\nof their silent but sullen guide, \"it may be a friend added to our\nstrength, in time of need.\"\n\n\"Think you, Alice, that I would trust those I love by this secret path,\ndid I imagine such need could happen?\"\n\n\"Nay, nay, I think not of it now; but this strange man amuses me; and if\nhe 'hath music in his soul,' let us not churlishly reject his company.\"\nShe pointed persuasively along the path with her riding-whip, while\ntheir eyes met in a look which the young man lingered a moment to\nprolong; then yielding to her gentle influence, he clapped his spurs\ninto his charger, and in a few bounds was again at the side of Cora.\n\n\"I am glad to encounter thee, friend,\" continued the maiden, waving her\nhand to the stranger to proceed, as she urged her Narragansett to renew\nits amble. \"Partial relatives have almost persuaded me that I am not\nentirely worthless in a duet myself; and we may enliven our wayfaring by\nindulging in our favorite pursuit. It might be of signal advantage to\none, ignorant as I, to hear the opinions and experience of a master in\nthe art.\"\n\n\"It is refreshing both to the spirits and to the body to indulge in\npsalmody, in befitting seasons,\" returned the master of song,\nunhesitatingly complying with her intimation to follow; \"and nothing\nwould relieve the mind more than such a consoling communion. But four\nparts are altogether necessary to the perfection of melody. You have all\nthe manifestations of a soft and rich treble; I can, by especial aid,\ncarry a full tenor to the highest letter; but we lack counter and bass!\nYon officer of the king, who hesitated to admit me to his company, might\nfill the latter, if one may judge from the intonations of his voice in\ncommon dialogue.\"\n\n\"Judge not too rashly from hasty and deceptive appearances,\" said the\nlady, smiling; \"though Major Heyward can assume such deep notes on\noccasion, believe me, his natural tones are better fitted for a mellow\ntenor than the bass you heard.\"\n\n\"Is he, then, much practised in the art of psalmody?\" demanded her\nsimple companion.\n\nAlice felt disposed to laugh, though she succeeded in suppressing her\nmerriment, ere she answered,--\n\n\"I apprehend that he is rather addicted to profane song. The chances of\na soldier's life are but little fitted for the encouragement of more\nsober inclinations.\"\n\n\"Man's voice is given to him, like his other talents, to be used, and\nnot to be abused. None can say they have ever known me neglect my gifts!\nI am thankful that, though my boyhood may be said to have been set\napart, like the youth of the royal David, for the purposes of music, no\nsyllable of rude verse has ever profaned my lips.\"\n\n\"You have, then, limited your efforts to sacred song?\"\n\n\"Even so. As the psalms of David exceed all other language, so does the\npsalmody that has been fitted to them by the divines and sages of the\nland, surpass all vain poetry. Happily, I may say that I utter nothing\nbut the thoughts and the wishes of the King of Israel himself; for\nthough the times may call for some slight changes, yet does this version\nwhich we use in the colonies of New England, so much exceed all other\nversions, that, by its richness, its exactness, and its spiritual\nsimplicity, it approacheth, as near as may be, to the great work of the\ninspired writer. I never abide in any place, sleeping or waking, without\nan example of this gifted work. 'Tis the six-and-twentieth edition,\npromulgated at Boston, Anno Domini 1744; and is entitled, _The Psalms,\nHymns, and Spiritual Songs of the Old and New Testaments; faithfully\ntranslated into English Metre, for the Use, Edification, and Comfort of\nthe Saints, in Public and Private, especially in New England_.\"\n\nDuring this eulogium on the rare production of his native poets, the\nstranger had drawn the book from his pocket, and, fitting a pair of\niron-rimmed spectacles to his nose, opened the volume with a care and\nveneration suited to its sacred purposes. Then, without circumlocution\nor apology, first pronouncing the word \"Standish,\" and placing the\nunknown engine, already described, to his mouth, from which he drew a\nhigh, shrill sound, that was followed by an octave below, from his own\nvoice, he commenced sing the following words, in full, sweet, and\nmelodious tones, that set the music, the poetry, and even the uneasy\nmotion of his ill-trained beast at defiance---\n\n \"How good it is, O see,\n And how it pleaseth well,\n Together, e'en in unity,\n For brethren so to dwell.\n It's like the choice ointment,\n From the head to the beard did go:\n Down Aaron's beard, that downward went,\n His garment's skirts unto.\"\n\nThe delivery of these skilful rhymes was accompanied, on the part of the\nstranger, by a regular rise and fall of his right hand, which\nterminated at the descent, by suffering the fingers to dwell a moment on\nthe leaves of the little volume; and on the ascent, by such a flourish\nof the member as none but the initiated may ever hope to imitate. It\nwould seem that long practice had rendered this manual accompaniment\nnecessary; for it did not cease until the preposition which the poet had\nselected for the close of his verse, had been duly delivered like a word\nof two syllables.\n\nSuch an innovation on the silence and retirement of the forest could not\nfail to enlist the ears of those who journeyed at so short a distance in\nadvance. The Indian muttered a few words in broken English to Heyward,\nwho, in his turn, spoke to the stranger; at once interrupting, and, for\nthe time, closing his musical efforts.\n\n\"Though we are not in danger, common prudence would teach us to journey\nthrough this wilderness in as quiet a manner as possible. You will,\nthen, pardon me, Alice, should I diminish your enjoyments, by requesting\nthis gentleman to postpone his chant until a safer opportunity.\"\n\n\"You will diminish them, indeed,\" returned the arch girl, \"for never did\nI hear a more unworthy conjunction of execution and language, than that\nto which I have been listening; and I was far gone in a learned inquiry\ninto the causes of such an unfitness between sound and sense, when you\nbroke the charm of my musings by that bass of yours, Duncan!\"\n\n\"I know not what you call my bass,\" said Heyward, piqued at her remark,\n\"but I know that your safety, and that of Cora, is far dearer to me than\ncould be any orchestra of Handel's music.\" He paused and turned his head\nquickly towards a thicket, and then bent his eyes suspiciously on their\nguide, who continued his steady pace, in undisturbed gravity. The young\nman smiled to himself, for he believed he had mistaken some shining\nberry of the woods for the glistening eyeballs of a prowling savage, and\nhe rode forward, continuing the conversation which had been interrupted\nby the passing thought.\n\nMajor Heyward was mistaken only in suffering his youthful and generous\npride to suppress his active watchfulness. The cavalcade had not long\npassed, before the branches of the bushes that formed the thicket were\ncautiously moved asunder, and a human visage, as fiercely wild as savage\nart and unbridled passions could make it, peered out on the retiring\nfootsteps of the travellers. A gleam of exultation shot across the\ndarkly painted lineaments of the inhabitant of the forest, as he traced\nthe route of his intended victims, who rode unconsciously onward; the\nlight and graceful forms of the females waving among the trees, in the\ncurvatures of their path, followed at each bend by the manly figure of\nHeyward, until, finally, the shapeless person of the sing-master was\nconcealed behind the numberless trunks of trees, that rose, in dark\nlines, in the intermediate space.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?"
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"content": " Before any characters appear, the time and geography are made clear. Though it is the last war that England and France waged for a country that neither would retain, the wilderness between the forces still has to be overcome first. Thus it is in 1757, in the New York area between the head waters of the Hudson River and Lake George to the north. Because only two years earlier General Braddock was disgracefully routed by a handful of French and Indians, the frontier is now exposed to real and imaginary savage disasters as well as to the horrors of warfare. Fear has replaced reason. Near dusk of a day in July, an Indian runner named Magua arrives at Fort Edward on the upper Hudson. He has come from Fort William Henry at the southern tip of Lake George with the news that the French General Montcalm is moving south with a very large army and that Munro, commander of Fort William Henry, is in urgent need of plentiful reinforcements from General Webb. Early the next morning, a limited detachment of fifteen hundred regulars and colonists departs as if swallowed by the forest. Shortly afterwards, Major Duncan Heyward and Alice and Cora Munro, guided by Magua on foot, take by horseback a secret route toward William Henry for the girls to join their father. Blonde Alice is doubtful about Magua, covered with war paint and showing a sullen fierceness; but dark-haired Cora is stoically common sense about him, even though Heyward mentions that their father had once had to deal rigidly with the Indian. As the small party pushes on, they are overtaken by David Gamut, a tall, ungainly psalmodist ridiculously dressed and carrying a pitch pipe while riding a mare followed by its young colt. He desires to join them, and after some banter between him and Alice, he pulls out the twenty-sixth edition of The Bay Psalm Book, sounds his pipe, and renders a song \"in full, sweet, and melodious tones.\" At a muttered comment from Magua, Heyward insists upon silence for safety. Then he glances about them and, satisfied that he has seen only shining berries, smiles to himself as they move on. But he is wrong. The branches move and a man peers exultingly after them as they disappear among the dark lines of trees.\n\n"
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"content": "Chapter: \"They do not sleep.\n On yonder cliffs, a grisly band,\n I see them sit.\"\n\n GRAY.\n\n\"'Twould be neglecting a warning that is given for our good, to lie hid\nany longer,\" said Hawkeye, \"when such sounds are raised in the forest!\nThe gentle ones may keep close, but the Mohicans and I will watch upon\nthe rock, where I suppose a major of the 60th would wish to keep us\ncompany.\"\n\n\"Is then our danger so pressing?\" asked Cora.\n\n\"He who makes strange sounds, and gives them out for man's information,\nalone knows our danger. I should think myself wicked, unto rebellion\nagainst his will, was I to burrow with such warnings in the air! Even\nthe weak soul who passes his days in sing, is stirred by the cry,\nand, as he says, is 'ready to go forth to the battle.' If 'twere only a\nbattle, it would be a thing understood by us all, and easily managed;\nbut I have heard that when such shrieks are atween heaven and 'arth, it\nbetokens another sort of warfare!\"\n\n\"If all our reasons for fear, my friend, are confined to such as proceed\nfrom supernatural causes, we have but little occasion to be alarmed,\"\ncontinued the undisturbed Cora; \"are you certain that our enemies have\nnot invented some new and ingenious method to strike us with terror,\nthat their conquest may become more easy?\"\n\n\"Lady,\" returned the scout, solemnly, \"I have listened to all the sounds\nof the woods for thirty years, as a man will listen, whose life and\ndeath depend on the quickness of his ears. There is no whine of the\npanther, no whistle of the catbird, nor any invention of the devilish\nMingos, that can cheat me! I have heard the forest moan like mortal men\nin their affliction; often, and again, have I listened to the wind\nplaying its music in the branches of the girdled trees; and I have heard\nthe lightning cracking in the air, like the snapping of blazing brush,\nas it spitted forth sparks and forked flames; but never have I thought\nthat I heard more than the pleasure of Him who sported with the things\nof his hand. But neither the Mohicans, nor I, who am a white man without\na cross, can explain the cry just heard. We, therefore, believe it a\nsign given for our good.\"\n\n\"It is extraordinary!\" said Heyward, taking his pistols from the place\nwhere he had laid them on entering; \"be it a sign of peace or a signal\nof war, it must be looked to. Lead the way, my friend; I follow.\"\n\nOn issuing from their place of confinement, the whole party instantly\nexperienced a grateful renovation of spirits, by exchanging the pent air\nof the hiding-place for the cool and invigorating atmosphere, which\nplayed around the whirlpools and pitches of the cataract. A heavy\nevening breeze swept along the surface of the river, and seemed to drive\nthe roar of the falls into the recesses of their own caverns, whence it\nissued heavily and constant, like thunder rumbling beyond the distant\nhills. The moon had risen, and its light was already glancing here and\nthere on the waters above them; but the extremity of the rock where they\nstood still lay in shadow. With the exception of the sounds produced by\nthe rushing waters, and an occasional breathing of the air, as it\nmured past them in fitful currents, the scene was as still as night\nand solitude could make it. In vain were the eyes of each individual\nbent along the opposite shores, in quest of some signs of life, that\nmight explain the nature of the interruption they had heard. Their\nanxious and eager looks were baffled by the deceptive light, or rested\nonly on naked rocks, and straight and immovable trees.\n\n\"There is nothing to be seen but the gloom and quiet of a lovely\nevening,\" whispered Duncan: \"how much should we prize such a scene, and\nall this breathing solitude, at any other moment, Cora! Fancy yourselves\nin security and what now, perhaps, increases your terror, may be made\nconducive to enjoyment--\"\n\n\"Listen!\" interrupted Alice.\n\nThe caution was unnecessary. Once more the same sound arose, as if from\nthe bed of the river, and having broken out of the narrow bounds of the\ncliffs, was heard undulating through the forest, in distant and dying\ncadences.\n\n\"Can any here give a name to such a cry?\" demanded Hawkeye, when the\nlast echo was lost in the woods; \"if so, let him speak; for myself, I\njudge it not to belong to 'arth!\"\n\n\"Here, then, is one who can undeceive you,\" said Duncan; \"I know the\nsound full well, for often have I heard it on the field of battle, and\nin situations which are frequent in a soldier's life. 'Tis the horrid\nshriek that a horse will give in his agony; oftener drawn from him in\npain, though sometimes in terror. My charger is either a prey to the\nbeasts of the forest, or he sees his danger, without the power to avoid\nit. The sound might deceive me in the cavern, but in the open air I know\nit too well to be wrong.\"\n\nThe scout and his companions listened to this simple explanation with\nthe interest of men who imbibe new ideas, at the same time that they get\nrid of old ones, which had proved disagreeable inmates. The two latter\nuttered their usual and expressive exclamation, \"Hugh!\" as the truth\nfirst glanced upon their minds, while the former, after a short musing\npause, took upon himself to reply.\n\n\"I cannot deny your words,\" he said; \"for I am little skilled in horses,\nthough born where they abound. The wolves must be hovering above their\nheads on the bank, and the timorsome creatures are calling on man for\nhelp, in the best manner they are able. Uncas,\"--he spoke in\nDelaware--\"Uncas, drop down in the canoe, and whirl a brand among the\npack; or fear may do what the wolves can't get at to perform, and leave\nus without horses in the morning, when we shall have so much need to\njourney swiftly!\"\n\nThe young native had already descended to the water, to comply, when a\nlong howl was raised on the edge of the river, and was borne swiftly off\ninto the depths of the forest, as though the beasts, of their own\naccord, were abandoning their prey in sudden terror. Uncas, with\ninstinctive quickness, receded, and the three foresters held another of\ntheir low, earnest conferences.\n\n\"We have been like hunters who have lost the points of the heavens, and\nfrom whom the sun has been hid for days,\" said Hawkeye, turning away\nfrom his companions; \"now we begin again to know the signs of our\ncourse, and the paths are cleared from briers! Seat yourselves in the\nshade which the moon throws from yonder beech--'tis thicker than that of\nthe pines--and let us wait for that which the Lord may choose to send\nnext. Let all your conversation be in whispers; though it would be\nbetter, and perhaps, in the end, wiser, if each one held discourse with\nhis own thoughts, for a time.\"\n\nThe manner of the scout was seriously impressive, though no longer\ndistinguished by any signs of unmanly apprehension. It was evident that\nhis momentary weakness had vanished with the explanation of a mystery\nwhich his own experience had not served to fathom; and though he now\nfelt all the realities of their actual condition, that he was prepared\nto meet them with the energy of his hardy nature. This feeling seemed\nalso common to the natives, who placed themselves in positions which\ncommanded a full view of both shores, while their own persons were\neffectually concealed from observation. In such circumstances, common\nprudence dictated that Heyward and his companions should imitate a\ncaution that proceeded from so intelligent a source. The young man drew\na pile of the sassafras from the cave, and placing it in the chasm which\nseparated the two caverns, it was occupied by the sisters, who were thus\nprotected by the rocks from any missiles, while their anxiety was\nrelieved by the assurance that no danger could approach without a\nwarning. Heyward himself was posted at hand, so near that he might\ncommunicate with his companions without raising his voice to a dangerous\nelevation, while David, in imitation of the woodsmen, bestowed his\nperson in such a manner among the fissures of the rocks, that his\nungainly limbs were no longer offensive to the eye.\n\nIn this manner, hours passed by without further interruption. The moon\nreached the zenith, and shed its mild light perpendicularly on the\nlovely sight of the sisters slumbering peacefully in each other's arms.\nDuncan cast the wide shawl of Cora before a spectacle he so much loved\nto contemplate, and then suffered his own head to seek a pillow on the\nrock. David began to utter sounds that would have shocked his delicate\norgans in more wakeful moments; in short, all but Hawkeye and the\nMohicans lost every idea of consciousness, in uncontrollable drowsiness.\nBut the watchfulness of these vigilant protectors neither tired nor\nslumbered. Immovable as that rock, of which each appeared to form a\npart, they lay, with their eyes roving, without intermission, along the\ndark margin of trees that bounded the adjacent shores of the narrow\nstream. Not a sound escaped them; the most subtle examination could not\nhave told they breathed. It was evident that this excess of caution\nproceeded from an experience that no subtlety on the part of their\nenemies could deceive. It was, however, continued without any apparent\nconsequences, until the moon had set, and a pale streak above the\ntree-tops, at the bend of the river a little below, announced the\napproach of day.\n\nThen, for the first time, Hawkeye was seen to stir. He crawled along\nthe rock, and shook Duncan from his heavy slumbers.\n\n\"Now is the time to journey,\" he whispered; \"awake the gentle ones, and\nbe ready to get into the canoe when I bring it to the landing-place.\"\n\n\"Have you had a quiet night?\" said Heyward; \"for myself, I believe sleep\nhas got the better of my vigilance.\"\n\n\"All is yet still as midnight. Be silent, but be quick.\"\n\nBy this time Duncan was thoroughly awake, and he immediately lifted the\nshawl from the sleeping females. The motion caused Cora to raise her\nhand as if to repulse him, while Alice mured, in her soft, gentle\nvoice, \"No, no, dear father, we were not deserted; Duncan was with us!\"\n\n\"Yes, sweet innocence,\" whispered the youth; \"Duncan is here, and while\nlife continues or danger remains, he will never quit thee. Cora! Alice!\nawake! The hour has come to move!\"\n\nA loud shriek from the younger of the sisters, and the form of the other\nstanding upright before him, in bewildered horror, was the unexpected\nanswer he received. While the words were still on the lips of Heyward,\nthere had arisen such a tumult of yells and cries as served to drive the\nswift currents of his own blood back from its bounding course into the\nfountains of his heart. It seemed, for near a minute, as if demons of\nhell had possed themselves of the air about them, and were venting\ntheir savage humors in barous sounds. The cries came from no\nparticular direction, though it was evident they filled the woods, and\nas the appalled listeners easily imagined, the caverns of the falls, the\nrocks, the bed of the river, and the upper air. David raised his tall\nperson in the midst of the infernal din, with a hand on either ear,\nexclaiming--\n\n\"Whence comes this discord! Has hell broke loose, that man should utter\nsounds like these!\"\n\nThe bright flashes and the quick reports of a dozen rifles, from the\nopposite banks of the stream, followed this incautious exposure of his\nperson, and left the unfortunate sing-master senseless on that rock\nwhere he had been so long slumbering. The Mohicans boldly sent back the\nintimidating yell of their enemies, who raised a shout of savage triumph\nat the fall of Gamut. The flash of rifles was then quick and close\nbetween them, but either party was too well skilled to leave even a limb\nexposed to the hostile aim. Duncan listened with intense anxiety for\nthe strokes of the paddle, believing that flight was now their only\nrefuge. The river glanced by with its ordinary velocity, but the canoe\nwas nowhere to be seen on its dark waters. He had just fancied they were\ncruelly deserted by the scout, as a stream of flame issued from the rock\nbeneath him, and a fierce yell, blended with a shriek of agony,\nannounced that the messenger of death, sent from the fatal weapon of\nHawkeye, had found a victim. At this slight repulse the assailants\ninstantly withdrew, and gradually the place became as still as before\nthe sudden tumult.\n\nDuncan seized the favorable moment to spring to the body of Gamut, which\nhe bore within the shelter of the narrow chasm that protected the\nsisters. In another minute the whole party was collected in this spot of\ncomparative safety.\n\n\"The poor fellow has saved his scalp,\" said Hawkeye, coolly passing his\nhand over the head of David; \"but he is a proof that a man may be born\nwith too long a tongue! 'Twas downright madness to show six feet of\nflesh and blood, on a naked rock, to the raging savages. I only wonder\nhe has escaped with life.\"\n\n\"Is he not dead!\" demanded Cora, in a voice whose husky tones showed how\npowerfully natural horror struggled with her assumed firmness. \"Can we\ndo aught to assist the wretched man?\"\n\n\"No, no! the life is in his heart yet, and after he has slept awhile he\nwill come to himself, and be a wiser man for it, till the hour of his\nreal time shall come,\" returned Hawkeye, casting another oblique glance\nat the insensible body, while he filled his charger with admirable\nnicety. \"Carry him in, Uncas, and lay him on the sassafras. The longer\nhis nap lasts the better it will be for him, as I doubt whether he can\nfind a proper cover for such a shape on these rocks; and sing won't\ndo any good with the Iroquois.\"\n\n\"You believe, then, the attack will be renewed?\" asked Heyward.\n\n\"Do I expect a hungry wolf will satisfy his craving with a mouthful!\nThey have lost a man, and 'tis their fashion, when they meet a loss, and\nfail in the surprise, to fall back; but we shall have them on again,\nwith new expedients to circumvent us, and master our scalps. Our main\nhope,\" he continued, raising his rugged countenance, across which a\nshade of anxiety just then passed like a darkening cloud, \"will be to\nkeep the rock until Munro can send a party to our help! God send it may\nbe soon, and under a leader that knows the Indian customs!\"\n\n\"You hear our probable fortunes, Cora,\" said Duncan, \"and you know we\nhave everything to hope from the anxiety and experience of your father.\nCome, then, with Alice, into this cavern, where you, at least, will be\nsafe from the murderous rifles of our enemies and where you may bestow a\ncare suited to your gentle natures on our unfortunate comrade.\"\n\nThe sisters followed him into the outer cave, where David was beginning,\nby his sighs, to give symptoms of returning consciousness; and then\ncommending the wounded man to their attention, he immediately prepared\nto leave them.\n\n\"Duncan!\" said the tremulous voice of Cora, when he had reached the\nmouth of the cavern. He turned, and beheld the speaker, whose color had\nchanged to a deadly paleness, and whose lip quivered, gazing after him,\nwith an expression of interest which immediately recalled him to her\nside. \"Remember, Duncan, how necessary your safety is to our own--how\nyou bear a father's sacred trust--how much depends on your discretion\nand care--in short,\" she added, while the tell-tale blood stole over her\nfeatures, crimsoning her very temples, \"how very deservedly dear you are\nto all of the name of Munro.\"\n\n\"If anything could add to my own base love of life,\" said Heyward,\nsuffering his unconscious eyes to wander to the youthful form of the\nsilent Alice, \"it would be so kind an assurance. As major of the 60th,\nour honest host will tell you I must take my share of the fray; but our\ntask will be easy; it is merely to keep these blood-hounds at bay for a\nfew hours.\"\n\nWithout waiting for reply, he tore himself from the presence of the\nsisters, and joined the scout and his companions, who still lay within\nthe protection of the little chasm between the two caves.\n\n\"I tell you, Uncas,\" said the former, as Heyward joined them, \"you are\nwasteful of your powder, and the kick of the rifle disconcerts your aim!\nLittle powder, light lead, and a long arm, seldom fail of bring the\ndeath screech from a Mingo! At least, such has been my experience with\nthe creatur's. Come, friends; let us to our covers, for no man can tell\nwhen or where a Maqua[15] will strike his blow.\"\n\nThe Indians silently repaired to their appointed stations, which were\nfissures in the rocks, whence they could command the approaches to the\nfoot of the falls. In the centre of the little island, a few short and\nstunted pines had found root, forming a thicket, into which Hawkeye\ndarted with the swiftness of a deer, followed by the active Duncan. Here\nthey secured themselves, as well as circumstances would permit, among\nthe shrubs and fragments of stone that were scattered about the place.\nAbove them was a bare, rounded rock, on each side of which the water\nplayed its gambols, and plunged into the abysses beneath, in the manner\nalready described. As the day had now dawned, the opposite shores no\nlonger presented a confused outline, but they were able to look into the\nwoods, and distinguish objects beneath the canopy of gloomy pines.\n\nA long and anxious watch succeeded, but without any further evidences of\na renewed attack; and Duncan began to hope that their fire had proved\nmore fatal than was supposed, and that their enemies had been\neffectually repulsed. When he ventured to utter this impression to his\ncompanion, it was met by Hawkeye with an incredulous shake of the head.\n\n\"You know not the nature of a Maqua, if you think he is so easily beaten\nback without a scalp!\" he answered. \"If there was one of the imps\nyelling this morning, there were forty! and they know our number and\nquality too well to give up the chase so soon. Hist! look into the water\nabove, just where it breaks over the rocks. I am no mortal, if the risky\ndevils haven't swam down upon the very pitch, and, as bad luck would\nhave it, they have hit the head of the island. Hist! man, keep close! or\nthe hair will be off your crown in the turning of a knife!\"\n\nHeyward lifted his head from the cover, and beheld what he justly\nconsidered a prodigy of rashness and skill. The river had worn away the\nedge of the soft rock in such a manner, as to render its first pitch\nless abrupt and perpendicular than is usual at waterfalls. With no other\nguide than the ripple of the stream where it met the head of the island,\na party of their insatiable foes had ventured into the current, and swam\ndown upon this point, knowing the ready access it would give, if\nsuccessful, to their intended victims. As Hawkeye ceased speaking, four\nhuman heads could be seen peering above a few logs of drift-wood that\nhad lodged on these naked rocks, and which had probably suggested the\nidea of the practicability of the hazardous undertaking. At the next\nmoment, a fifth form was seen floating over the green edge of the fall,\na little from the line of the island. The savage struggled powerfully to\ngain the point of safety, and, favored by the glancing water, he was\nalready stretching forth an arm to meet the grasp of his companions,\nwhen he shot away again with the whirling current, appeared to rise into\nthe air, with uplifted arms and starting eyeballs, and fell, with a\nsullen plunge, into that deep and yawning abyss over which he hovered. A\nsingle, wild, despairing shriek rose from the cavern, and all was hushed\nagain, as the grave.\n\nThe first generous impulse of Duncan was to rush to the rescue of the\nhapless wretch; but he felt himself bound to the spot by the iron grasp\nof the immovable scout.\n\n\"Would ye bring certain death upon us, by telling the Mingos where we\nlie?\" demanded Hawkeye, sternly; \"'tis a charge of powder saved, and\nammunition is as precious now as breath to a worried deer! Freshen the\npriming of your pistols--the mist of the falls is apt to dampen the\nbrimstone--and stand firm for a close struggle, while I fire on their\nrush.\"\n\nHe placed his finger in his mouth, and drew a long, shrill whistle,\nwhich was answered from the rocks that were guarded by the Mohicans.\nDuncan caught glimpses of heads above the scattered drift-wood, as this\nsignal rose on the air, but they disappeared again as suddenly as they\nhad glanced upon his sight. A low, rustling sound next drew his\nattention behind him, and turning his head, he beheld Uncas within a few\nfeet, creeping to his side. Hawkeye spoke to him in Delaware, when the\nyoung chief took his position with singular caution and undisturbed\ncoolness. To Heyward this was a moment of feverish and impatient\nsuspense; though the scout saw fit to select it as a fit occasion to\nread a lecture to his more youthful associates on the art of using\nfire-arms with discretion.\n\n\"Of all we'pons,\" he commenced, \"the long-barrelled, true-grooved,\nsoft-metalled rifle is the most dangerous in skilful hands, though it\nwants a strong arm, a quick eye, and great judgment in charging, to put\nforth all its beauties. The gunsmiths can have but little insight into\ntheir trade, when they make their fowling-pieces and short horsemen's--\"\n\nHe was interrupted by the low but expressive \"Hugh!\" of Uncas.\n\n[Illustration: _Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons_\n\nTHE BATTLE AT GLENS FALLS\n\n_Each of the combatants threw all his energies into that effort, and the\nresult was, that both tottered on the brink of the precipice_]\n\n\"I see them, boy, I see them!\" continued Hawkeye; \"they are gathering\nfor the rush, or they would keep their dingy backs below the logs. Well,\nlet them,\" he added, examining his flint; \"the leading man certainly\ncomes on to his death, though it should be Montcalm himself!\"\n\nAt that moment the woods were filled with another burst of cries, and at\nthe signal four savages sprang from the cover of the drift-wood. Heyward\nfelt a burning desire to rush forward to meet them, so intense was the\ndelirious anxiety of the moment; but he was restrained by the deliberate\nexamples of the scout and Uncas. When their foes who leaped over the\nblack rock that divided them, with long bounds, uttering the wildest\nyells, were within a few rods, the rifle of Hawkeye slowly rose among\nthe shrubs, and poured out its fatal contents. The foremost Indian\nbounded like a stricken deer, and fell headlong among the clefts of the\nisland.\n\n\"Now, Uncas!\" cried the scout, drawing his long knife, while his quick\neyes began to flash with ardor, \"take the last of the screeching imps;\nof the other two we are sartain!\"\n\nHe was obeyed; and but two enemies remained to be overcome. Heyward had\ngiven one of his pistols to Hawkeye, and together they rushed down a\nlittle declivity towards their foes; they discharged their weapons at\nthe same instant, and equally without success.\n\n\"I know'd it! and I said it!\" muttered the scout, whirling the despised\nlittle implement over the falls with bitter disdain. \"Come on, ye bloody\nminded hell-hounds! ye meet a man without a cross!\"\n\nThe words were barely uttered, when he encountered a savage of gigantic\nstature, and of the fiercest mien. At the same moment, Duncan found\nhimself engaged with the other, in a similar contest of hand to hand.\nWith ready skill, Hawkeye and his antagonist each grasped that uplifted\narm of the other which held the dangerous knife. For near a minute they\nstood looking one another in the eye, and gradually exerting the power\nof their muscles for the mastery. At length, the toughened sinews of the\nwhite man prevailed over the less practised limbs of the native. The arm\nof the latter slowly gave way before the increasing force of the scout,\nwho suddenly wresting his armed hand from the grasp of the foe, drove\nthe sharp weapon through his naked bosom to the heart. In the meantime\nHeyward had been pressed in a more deadly struggle. His slight sword was\nsnapped in the first encounter. As he was destitute of any other means\nof defence, his safety now depended entirely on bodily strength and\nresolution. Though deficient in neither of these qualities, he had met\nan enemy every way his equal. Happily, he soon succeeded in disarming\nhis adversary, whose knife fell on the rock at their feet; and from this\nmoment it became a fierce struggle, who should cast the other over the\ndizzy height into a neighboring cavern of the falls. Every successive\nstruggle brought them nearer to the verge, where Duncan perceived the\nfinal and conquering effort must be made. Each of the combatants threw\nall his energies into that effort, and the result was, that both\ntottered on the brink of the precipice. Heyward felt the grasp of the\nother at his throat, and saw the grim smile the savage gave, under the\nrevengeful hope that he hurried his enemy to a fate similar to his own,\nas he felt his body slowly yielding to a resistless power, and the young\nman experienced the passing agony of such a moment in all its horrors.\nAt that instant of extreme danger, a dark hand and glancing knife\nappeared before him; the Indian released his hold, as the blood flowed\nfreely from around the several tendons of the wrist; and while Duncan\nwas drawn backward by the saving arm of Uncas, his charmed eyes were\nstill riveted on the fierce and disappointed countenance of his foe, who\nfell sullenly and disappointed down the irrecoverable precipice.\n\n\"To cover! to cover!\" cried Hawkeye, who just then had despatched the\nenemy; \"to cover, for your lives! the work is but half ended!\"\n\nThe young Mohican gave a shout of triumph, and, followed by Duncan, he\nglided up the acclivity they had descended to the combat, and sought the\nfriendly shelter of the rocks and shrubs.\n\n \"They linger yet,\n Avengers of their native land.\"\n\n GRAY.\n\nThe warning call of the scout was not uttered without occasion. During\nthe occurrence of the deadly encounter just related, the roar of the\nfalls was unbroken by any human sound whatever. It would seem that\ninterest in the result had kept the natives on the opposite shores in\nbreathless suspense, while the quick evolutions and swift changes in the\nposition of the combatants, effectually prevented a fire that might\nprove dangerous alike to friend and enemy. But the moment the struggle\nwas decided, a yell arose as fierce and savage as wild and revengful\npassions could throw into the air. It was followed by the swift flashes\nof the rifles, which sent their leaden messengers across the rock in\nvolleys, as though the assailants would pour out their impotent fury on\nthe insensible scene of the fatal contest.\n\nA steady, though deliberate return was made from the rifle of\nChingachgook, who had maintained his post throughout the fray with\nunmoved resolution. When the triumphant shout of Uncas was borne to his\nears, the gratified father raised his voice in a single responsive cry,\nafter which his busy piece alone proved that he still guarded his pass\nwith unwearied diligence. In this manner many minutes flew by with the\nswiftness of thought: the rifles of the assailants speaking, at times,\nin rattling volleys, and at others, in occasional, scattering shots.\nThough the rock, the trees, and the shrubs, were cut and torn in a\nhundred places around the besieged, their cover was so close, and so\nrigidly maintained, that, as yet, David had been the only sufferer in\ntheir little band.\n\n\"Let them burn their powder,\" said the deliberate scout, while bullet\nafter bullet whizzed by the place where he securely lay; \"there will be\na fine gathering of lead when it is over, and I fancy the imps will tire\nof the sport, afore these old stones cry out for mercy! Uncas, boy, you\nwaste the kernels by overcharging: and a kicking rifle never carries a\ntrue bullet. I told you to take that loping miscreant under the line of\nwhite paint; now, if your bullet went a hair's breadth, it went two\ninches above it. The life lies low in a Mingo, and humanity teaches us\nto make a quick end of the sarpents.\"\n\nA quiet smile lighted the haughty features of the young Mohican,\nbetraying his knowledge of the English language, as well as of the\nother's meaning; but he suffered it to pass away without vindication or\nreply.\n\n\"I cannot permit you to accuse Uncas of want of judgment or of skill,\"\nsaid Duncan; \"he saved my life in the coolest and readiest manner, and\nhe has made a friend who never will require to be reminded of the debt\nhe owes.\"\n\nUncas partly raised his body, and offered his hand to the grasp of\nHeyward. During this act of friendship, the two young men exchanged\nlooks of intelligence which caused Duncan to forget the character and\ncondition of his wild associate. In the meanwhile, Hawkeye, who looked\non this burst of youthful feeling with a cool but kind regard, made the\nfollowing reply---\n\n\"Life is an obligation which friends often owe each other in the\nwilderness. I dare say I may have served Uncas some such turn myself\nbefore now; and I very well remember that he has stood between me and\ndeath five different times: three times from the Mingos, once in\ncrossing Horican, and--\"\n\n\"That bullet was better aimed than common!\" exclaimed Duncan,\ninvoluntarily shrinking from a shot which struck the rock at his side\nwith a smart rebound.\n\nHawkeye laid his hand on the shapeless metal, and shook his head, as he\nexamined it, saying, \"Falling lead is never flattened! had it come from\nthe clouds this might have happened!\"\n\nBut the rifle of Uncas was deliberately raised towards the heavens,\ndirecting his companions to a point, where the mystery was immediately\nexplained. A ragged oak grew on the right bank of the river, nearly\nopposite to their position, which, seeking the freedom of the open\nspace, had inclined so far forward, that its upper branches overhung\nthat arm of the stream which flowed nearest to its own shore. Among the\ntopmost leaves, which scantily concealed the gnarled and stunted limbs,\na savage was nestled, partly concealed by the trunk of the tree, and\npartly exposed, as though looking down upon them to ascertain the effect\nproduced by his treacherous aim.\n\n\"These devils will scale heaven to circumvent us to our ruin,\" said\nHawkeye; \"keep him in play, boy, until I can bring 'Killdeer' to bear,\nwhen we will try his metal on each side of the tree at once.\"\n\nUncas delayed his fire until the scout uttered the word. The rifles\nflashed, the leaves and the bark of the oak flew into the air, and were\nscattered by the wind, but the Indian answered their assault by a\ntaunting laugh, sending down upon them another bullet in return, that\nstruck the cap of Hawkeye from his head. Once more the savage yells\nburst out of the woods, and the leaden hail whistled above the heads of\nthe besieged, as if to confine them to a place where they might become\neasy victims to the enterprise of the warrior who had mounted the tree.\n\n\"This must be looked to!\" said the scout, glancing about him with an\nanxious eye. \"Uncas, call up your father; we have need of all our\nwe'pons to bring the cunning varmint from his roost.\"\n\nThe signal was instantly given; and, before Hawkeye had reloaded his\nrifle, they were joined by Chingachgook. When his son pointed out to the\nexperienced warrior the situation of their dangerous enemy, the usual\nexclamatory \"Hugh!\" burst from his lips; after which, no further\nexpression of surprise or alarm was suffered to escape him. Hawkeye and\nthe Mohicans conversed earnestly together in Delaware for a few moments,\nwhen each quietly took his post, in order to execute the plan they had\nspeedily devised.\n\nThe warrior in the oak had maintained a quick, though ineffectual fire,\nfrom the moment of his discovery. But his aim was interrupted by the\nvigilance of his enemies, whose rifles instaneously bore on any part\nof his person that was left exposed. Still his bullets fell in the\ncentre of the crouching party. The clothes of Heyward, which rendered\nhim peculiarly conspicuous, were repeatedly cut, and once blood was\ndrawn from a slight wound in his arm.\n\nAt length, emboldened by the long and patient watchfulness of his\nenemies, the Huron attempted a better and more fatal aim. The quick eye\nof the Mohicans caught the dark line of his lower limbs incautiously\nexposed through the thin foliage, a few inches from the trunk of the\ntree. Their rifles made a common report, when, sinking on his wounded\nlimb, part of the body of the savage came into view. Swift as thought,\nHawkeye seized the advantage and discharged his fatal weapon into the\ntop of the oak. The leaves were unusually agitated; the dangerous rifle\nfell from its commanding elevation, and after a few moments of vain\nstruggling, the form of the savage was seen swing in the wind, while\nhe still grasped a ragged and naked branch of the tree, with hands\nclenched in desperation.\n\n\"Give him, in pity give him--the contents of another rifle!\" cried\nDuncan, turning away his eyes in horror from the spectacle of a\nfellow-creature in such awful jeopardy.\n\n\"Not a karnel!\" exclaimed the obdurate Hawkeye; \"his death is certain,\nand we have no powder to spare, for Indian fights sometimes last for\ndays; 'tis their scalps or ours!--and God, who made us, has put into our\nnatures the craving to keep the skin on the head!\"\n\nAgainst this stern and unyielding morality, supported as it was by such\nvisible policy, there was no appeal. From that moment the yells in the\nforest once more ceased, the fire was suffered to decline, and all eyes,\nthose of friends as well as enemies, became fixed on the hopeless\ncondition of the wretch who was dangling between heaven and earth. The\nbody yielded to the currents of air, and though no mur or groan\nescaped the victim, there were instants when he grimly faced his foes,\nand the anguish of cold despair might be traced, through the intervening\ndistance, in possession of his swarthy lineaments. Three several times\nthe scout raised his piece in mercy, and as often prudence getting the\nbetter of his intention, it was again silently lowered. At length one\nhand of the Huron lost its hold, and dropped exhausted to his side. A\ndesperate and fruitless struggle to recover the branch succeeded, and\nthen the savage was seen for a fleeting instant, grasping wildly at the\nempty air. The lightning is not quicker than was the flame from the\nrifle of Hawkeye; the limbs of the victim trembled and contracted, the\nhead fell to the bosom, and the body parted the foaming waters like\nlead, when the element closed above it, in its ceaseless velocity, and\nevery vestige of the unhappy Huron was lost forever.\n\nNo shout of triumph succeeded this important advantage, but even the\nMohicans gazed at each other in silent horror. A single yell burst from\nthe woods, and all was again still. Hawkeye, who alone appeared to\nreason on the occasion, shook his head at his own momentary weakness,\neven uttering his self-disapprobation aloud.\n\n\"'Twas the last charge in my horn, and the last bullet in my pouch, and\n'twas the act of a boy!\" he said; \"what mattered it whether he struck\nthe rock living or dead: feeling would soon be over. Uncas, lad, go down\nto the canoe, and bring up the big horn; it is all the powder we have\nleft, and we shall need it to the last grain, or I am ignorant of the\nMingo nature.\"\n\nThe young Mohican complied, leaving the scout turning over the useless\ncontents of his pouch, and shaking the empty horn with renewed\ndiscontent. From this unsatisfactory examination, however, he was soon\ncalled by a loud and piercing exclamation from Uncas, that sounded, even\nto the unpractised ears of Duncan, as the signal of some new and\nunexpected calamity. Every thought filled with apprehension for the\nprecious treasure he had concealed in the cavern, the young man started\nto his feet, totally regardless of the hazard he incurred by such an\nexposure. As if actuated by a common impulse, his movement was imitated\nby his companions, and, together, they rushed down the pass to the\nfriendly chasm, with a rapidity that rendered the scattering fire of\ntheir enemies perfectly harmless. The unwonted cry had brought the\nsisters, together with the wounded David, from their place of refuge;\nand the whole party, at a single glance, was made acquainted with the\nnature of the disaster that had disturbed even the practised stoicism of\ntheir youthful Indian protector.\n\nAt a short distance from the rock, their little bark was to be seen\nfloating across the eddy, towards the swift current of the river, in a\nmanner which proved that its course was directed by some hidden agent.\nThe instant this unwelcome sight caught the eye of the scout, his rifle\nwas levelled as by instinct, but the barrel gave no answer to the bright\nsparks of the flint.\n\n\"'Tis too late, 'tis too late!\" Hawkeye exclaimed, dropping the useless\npiece in bitter disappointment; \"the miscreant has struck the rapid; and\nhad we powder, it could hardly send the lead swifter than he now goes!\"\n\nThe adventurous Huron raised his head above the shelter of the canoe,\nand while it glided swiftly down the stream, he waved his hand, and gave\nforth the shout, which was the known signal of success. His cry was\nanswered by a yell and a laugh from the woods, as tauntingly exulting as\nif fifty demons were uttering their blasphemies at the fall of some\nChristian soul.\n\n\"Well may you laugh, ye children of the devil!\" said the scout, seating\nhimself on a projection of the rock, and suffering his gun to fall\nneglected at his feet, \"for the three quickest and surest rifles in\nthese woods are no better than so many stalks of mullein, or the last\nyear's horns of a buck!\"\n\n\"What is to be done?\" demanded Duncan, losing the first feeling of\ndisappointment in a more manly desire for exertion; \"what will become of\nus?\"\n\nHawkeye made no other reply than by passing his finger around the crown\nof his head, in a manner so significant, that none who witnessed the\naction could mistake its meaning.\n\n\"Surely, surely, our case is not so desperate!\" exclaimed the youth;\n\"the Hurons are not here; we may make good the caverns; we may oppose\ntheir landing.\"\n\n\"With what?\" coolly demanded the scout. \"The arrows of Uncas, or such\ntears as women shed! No, no; you are young, and rich, and have friends,\nand at such an age I know it is hard to die! But,\" glancing his eyes at\nthe Mohicans, \"let us remember we are men without a cross, and let us\nteach these natives of the forest that white blood can run as freely as\nred, when the appointed hour is come.\"\n\nDuncan turned quickly in the direction indicated by the other's eyes,\nand read a confirmation of his worst apprehensions in the conduct of the\nIndians. Chingachgook, placing himself in a dignified posture on another\nfragment of the rock, had already laid aside his knife and tomahawk, and\nwas in the act of taking the eagle's plume from his head, and smoothing\nthe solitary tuft of hair in readiness to perform its last and revolting\noffice. His countenance was composed, though thoughtful, while his dark\ngleaming eyes were gradually losing the fierceness of the combat in an\nexpression better suited to the change he expected momentarily to\nundergo.\n\n\"Our case is not, cannot be so hopeless!\" said Duncan; \"even at this\nmoment succor may be at hand. I see no enemies! they have sickened of a\nstruggle in which they risk so much with so little prospect of gain!\"\n\n\"It may be a minute, or it may be an hour, afore the wily sarpents steal\nupon us, and it is quite in natur' for them to be lying within hearing\nat this very moment,\" said Hawkeye; \"but come they will, and in such a\nfashion as will leave us nothing to hope! Chingachgook\"--he spoke in\nDelaware--\"my brother, we have fought our last battle together, and the\nMaquas will triumph in the death of the sage man of the Mohicans, and of\nthe pale-face, whose eyes can make night as day, and level the clouds\nto the mists of the springs!\"\n\n\"Let the Mingo women go weep over their slain!\" returned the Indian,\nwith characteristic pride and unmoved firmness; \"the Great Snake of the\nMohicans has coiled himself in their wigwams, and has poisoned their\ntriumph with the wailings of children whose fathers have not returned!\nEleven warriors lie hid from the graves of their tribes since the snows\nhave melted, and none will tell where to find them when the tongue of\nChingachgook shall be silent! Let them draw the sharpest knife, and\nwhirl the swiftest tomahawk, for their bitterest enemy is in their\nhands. Uncas, topmost branch of a noble trunk, call on the cowards to\nhasten or their hearts will soften, and they will change to women!\"\n\n\"They look among the fishes for their dead!\" returned the low, soft\nvoice of the youthful chieftain; \"the Hurons float with the slimy eels!\nThey drop from the oaks like fruit that is ready to be eaten! and the\nDelawares laugh!\"\n\n\"Ay, ay,\" muttered the scout, who had listened to this peculiar burst of\nthe natives with deep attention; \"they have warmed their Indian\nfeelings, and they'll soon provoke the Maquas to give them a speedy end.\nAs for me, who am of the whole blood of the whites, it is befitting that\nI should die as becomes my color, with no words of scoffing in my mouth,\nand without bitterness at the heart!\"\n\n\"Why die at all!\" said Cora, advancing from the place where natural\nhorror had, until this moment, held her riveted to the rock; \"the path\nis open on every side; fly, then, to the woods, and call on God for\nsuccor. Go, brave men, we owe you too much already; let us no longer\ninvolve you in our hapless fortunes!\"\n\n\"You but little know the craft of the Iroquois, lady, if you judge they\nhave left the path open to the woods!\" returned Hawkeye, who, however,\nimmediately added in his simplicity, \"the down stream current, it is\ncertain, might soon sweep us beyond the reach of their rifles or the\nsounds of their voices.\"\n\n\"Then try the river. Why linger to add to the number of the victims of\nour merciless enemies?\"\n\n\"Why,\" repeated the scout, looking about him proudly, \"because it is\nbetter for a man to die at peace with himself than to live haunted by an\nevil conscience! What answer could we give Munro, when he asked us where\nand how we left his children?\"\n\n\"Go to him, and say, that you left them with a message to hasten to\ntheir aid,\" returned Cora, advancing nigher to the scout, in her\ngenerous ardor; \"that the Hurons bear them into the northern wilds, but\nthat by vigilance and speed they may yet be rescued; and if, after all,\nit should please heaven that his assistance come too late, bear to him,\"\nshe continued, her voice gradually lowering, until it seemed nearly\nchoked, \"the love, the blessings, the final prayers of his daughters,\nand bid him not mourn their early fate, but to look forward with humble\nconfidence to the Christian's goal to meet his children.\"\n\nThe hard, weather-beaten features of the scout began to work, and when\nshe had ended, he dropped his chin to his hand, like a man musing\nprofoundly on the nature of the proposal.\n\n\"There is reason in her words!\" at length broke from his compressed and\ntrembling lips; \"ay, and they bear the spirit of Christianity; what\nmight be right and proper in a redskin, may be sinful in a man who has\nnot even a cross in blood to plead for his ignorance. Chingachgook!\nUncas! hear you the talk of the dark-eyed woman!\"\n\nHe now spoke in Delaware to his companions, and his address, though calm\nand deliberate, seemed very decided. The elder Mohican heard him with\ndeep gravity, and appeared to ponder on his words, as though he felt the\nimportance of their import. After a moment of hesitation, he waved his\nhand in assent, and uttered the English word \"Good!\" with the peculiar\nemphasis of his people. Then, replacing his knife and tomahawk in his\ngirdle, the warrior moved silently to the edge of the rock which was\nmost concealed from the banks of the river. Here he paused a moment,\npointed significantly to the woods below, and saying a few words in his\nown language, as if indicating his intended route, he dropped into the\nwater, and sank from before the eyes of the witnesses of his movements.\n\nThe scout delayed his departure to speak to the generous girl, whose\nbreathing became lighter as she saw the success of her remonstrance.\n\n\"Wisdom is sometimes given to the young, as well as to the old,\" he\nsaid; \"and what you have spoken is wise, not to call it by a better\nword. If you are led into the woods, that is such of you as may be\nspared for a while, break the twigs on the bushes as you pass, and make\nthe marks of your trail as broad as you can, when, if mortal eyes can\nsee them, depend on having a friend who will follow to the ends of 'arth\nafore he desarts you.\"\n\nHe gave Cora an affectionate shake of the hand, lifted his rifle, and\nafter regarding it a moment with melancholy solicitude, laid it\ncarefully aside, and descended to the place where Chingachgook had just\ndisappeared. For an instant he hung suspended by the rock; and looking\nabout him, with a countenance of peculiar care, he added, bitterly, \"Had\nthe powder held out, this disgrace could never have befallen!\" then,\nloosening his hold, the water closed above his head, and he also became\nlost to view.\n\nAll eyes were now turned on Uncas, who stood leaning against the ragged\nrock, in immovable composure. After waiting a short time, Cora pointed\ndown the river, and said---\n\n\"Your friends have not been seen, and are now, most probably, in safety;\nis it not time for you to follow?\"\n\n\"Uncas will stay,\" the young Mohican calmly answered in English.\n\n\"To increase the horror of our capture, and to diminish the chances of\nour release! Go, generous young man,\" Cora continued, lowering her eyes\nunder the gaze of the Mohican, and, perhaps, with an intuitive\nconsciousness of her power; \"go to my father, as I have said, and be the\nmost confidential of my messengers. Tell him to trust you with the means\nto buy the freedom of his daughters. Go! 'tis my wish, 'tis my prayer,\nthat you will go!\"\n\nThe settled, calm look of the young chief changed to an expression of\ngloom, but he no longer hesitated. With a noiseless step he crossed the\nrock, and dropped into the troubled stream. Hardly a breath was drawn by\nthose he left behind, until they caught a glimpse of his head emerging\nfor air, far down the current, when he again sank, and was seen no more.\n\nThese sudden and apparently successful experiments had all taken place\nin a few minutes of that time which had now become so precious. After\nthe last look at Uncas, Cora turned, and, with a quivering lip,\naddressed herself to Heyward---\n\n\"I have heard of your boasted skill in the water, too, Duncan,\" she\nsaid; \"follow, then, the wise example set you by these simple and\nfaithful beings.\"\n\n\"Is such the faith that Cora Munro would exact from her protector?\" said\nthe young man, smiling mournfully, but with bitterness.\n\n\"This is not a time for idle subtleties and false opinions,\" she\nanswered; \"but a moment when every duty should be equally considered.\nTo us you can be of no further service here, but your precious life may\nbe saved for other and nearer friends.\"\n\nHe made no reply, though his eyes fell wistfully on the beautiful form\nof Alice, who was cling to his arm with the dependency of an infant.\n\n\"Consider,\" continued Cora, after a pause, during which she seemed to\nstruggle with a pang even more acute than any that her fears had\nexcited, \"that the worst to us can be but death; a tribute that all must\npay at the good time of God's appointment.\"\n\n\"There are evils worse than death,\" said Duncan, speaking hoarsely, and\nas if fretful at her importunity, \"but which the presence of one who\nwould die in your behalf may avert.\"\n\nCora ceased her entreaties; and, veiling her face in her shawl, drew the\nnearly insensible Alice after her into the deepest recess of the inner\ncavern.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?"
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"content": " Feeling that the cry is some kind of warning, whether intended or not, Hawkeye leads the entire party from the caves. As Heyward remarks upon the loveliness of the scene, the horrifying sound comes again as if from the bed of the river, and Heyward now recognizes it as the shriek of a horse in terror. The scout's reckoning that the horses are frightened by hovering wolves is immediately confirmed by a long howl that swiftly recedes into the depths of the forest, an abandonment that indicates enemy Indians are near. Once again secure in his knowledge of things, Hawkeye directs everyone to hide in moon shadows where they have a full view of both shores. Hours pass, and all fall asleep except the ever watchful scout and the Mohicans. The moon sets, and as pale dawn begins, the Iroquois attack with hellish yells and rifle reports. Gamut exposes himself, is wounded, and falls unconscious, while Hawkeye slips below and shoots one enemy, afterwards saying that their only hope is to hold the rock until Munro sends a party to help them. Heyward takes the girls into the outer cave where the reviving Gamut has been taken. As Cora reminds him how much his safety means to them, the major glances at Alice, reassures them, and rejoins the others outside. He and the scout deploy themselves in a little thicket of pines below the rock that splits the falls. Dawn comes. Then a long, anxious, and quiet watch succeeds until Hawkeye detects that four Indians have swum dangerously down to the rock above the defenders. As they wait, a fifth one, struggling to reach the rock, is thrown into the air and over the falls with a single, despairing shriek. After whistling Uncas to them, Hawkeye and the warrior shoot two Indians as the four charge them. When Heyward's pistols misfire, he and the scout grapple hand-to-hand with the two remaining enemies until Hawkeye dispatches his foe with a knife. Heyward is about to be dragged over the precipice with the other when Uncas severs the tendons of the Iroquois' wrist and grabs Heyward as the wounded savage falls to his destruction. As the survivors take cover, the Indians on shore yell and fire, and a give-and-take battle begins. One Iroquois, who has climbed an oak tree near shore, fires down upon the protagonists and slightly wounds Heyward. Setting up a crossfire with Chingachgook, Hawkeye fires his rifle \"Killdeer\" and wounds the savage, who is left swing in the wind with a desperate grasp on a branch. To save powder, the scout refuses to show mercy and finish the kill, but he weakens and discharges his last powder and bullet as the man falls toward the rocks and water. Uncas goes for munitions in the canoe only to find an Indian swimming away with it. Now essentially bereft of defensive means, the Mohicans scoff at their enemies and prepare for death. Hawkeye is quietly and stoically preparing himself also when Cora, who has been brave all along, entreats the men to escape downstream and effect a rescue. Convinced of her reason, Chingachgook slips under the water and away. After telling her to leave a marked trail if they are captured, Hawkeye carefully lays \"Killdeer\" aside and disappears into the water. Uncas remains until Cora, lowering her eyes, asks him to go to her father as her \"most confidential\" messenger; then he also drops into the water. When Heyward refuses to leave on the grounds that his presence may keep the girls from evils worse than death, Cora draws \"the nearly insensible Alice after her into the deepest recess of the inner cavern.\"\n\n"
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"content": "Chapter: \"I fear we shall outsleep the coming morn\n As much as we this night have overwatched!\"\n\n _Midsummer Night's Dream._\n\nThe instant the shock of this sudden misfortune had abated, Duncan began\nto make his observations on the appearance and proceedings of their\ncaptors. Contrary to the usages of the natives in the wantonness of\ntheir success, they had respected, not only the persons of the trembling\nsisters, but his own. The rich ornaments of his military attire had\nindeed been repeatedly handled by different individuals of the tribe\nwith eyes expressing a savage longing to possess the baubles; but before\nthe customary violence could be resorted to, a mandate in the\nauthoritative voice of the large warrior already mentioned, stayed the\nuplifted hand, and convinced Heyward that they were to be reserved for\nsome object of particular moment.\n\nWhile, however, these manifestations of weakness were exhibited by the\nyoung and vain of the party, the more experienced warriors continued\ntheir search throughout both caverns, with an activity that denoted they\nwere far from being satisfied with those fruits of their conquest which\nhad already been brought to light. Unable to discover any new victim,\nthese diligent workers of vengeance soon approached their male\nprisoners, pronouncing the name of \"La Longue Carabine,\" with a\nfierceness that could not easily be mistaken. Duncan affected not to\ncomprehend the meaning of their repeated and violent interrogatories,\nwhile his companion was spared the effort of a similar deception by his\nignorance of French. Wearied, at length, by their importunities, and\napprehensive of irritating his captors by too stubborn a silence, the\nformer looked about him in quest of Magua; who might interpret his\nanswers to questions which were at each moment becoming more earnest and\nthreatening.\n\nThe conduct of this savage had formed a solitary exception to that of\nall his fellows. While the others were busily occupied in seeking to\ngratify their childish passion for finery, by plundering even the\nmiserable effects of the scout, or had been searching, with such\nbloodthirsty vengeance in their looks, for their absent owner, Le Renard\nhad stood at a little distance from the prisoners, with a demeanor so\nquiet and satisfied, as to betray that he had already effected the grand\npurpose of this treachery. When the eyes of Heyward first met those of\nhis recent guide, he turned them away in horror at the sinister though\ncalm look he encountered. Conquering his disgust, however, he was able,\nwith an averted face, to address his successful enemy.\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil is too much of a warrior,\" said the reluctant Heyward,\n\"to refuse telling an unarmed man what his conquerors say.\"\n\n\"They ask for the hunter who knows the paths through the woods,\"\nreturned Magua, in his broken English, laying his hand, at the same\ntime, with a ferocious smile, on the bundle of leaves with which a wound\non his own shoulder was bandaged. \"La Longue Carabine! his rifle is\ngood, and his eye never shut; but, like the short gun of the white\nchief, it is nothing against the life of Le Subtil!\"\n\n\"Le Renard is too brave to remember the hurts received in war, or the\nhands that gave them!\"\n\n\"Was it war, when the tired Indian rested at the sugar-tree to taste his\ncorn! who filled the bushes with creeping enemies! who drew the knife!\nwhose tongue was peace, while his heart was colored with blood! Did\nMagua say that the hatchet was out of the ground, and that his hand had\ndug it up?\"\n\nAs Duncan dared not retort upon his accuser by reminding him of his own\npremeditated treachery, and disdained to deprecate his resentment by any\nwords of apology, he remained silent. Magua seemed also content to rest\nthe controversy as well as all further communication there, for he\nresumed the leaning attitude against the rock, from which, in momentary\nenergy, he had arisen. But the cry of \"La Longue Carabine\" was renewed\nthe instant the impatient savages perceived that the short dialogue was\nended.\n\n\"You hear,\" said Magua, with stubborn indifference; \"the red Hurons call\nfor the life of 'The Long Rifle,' or they will have the blood of them\nthat keep him hid!\"\n\n\"He is gone--escaped; he is far beyond their reach.\"\n\nRenard smiled with cold contempt, as he answered,--\n\n\"When the white man dies, he thinks he is at peace; but the redmen know\nhow to torture even the ghosts of their enemies. Where is his body? Let\nthe Hurons see his scalp!\"\n\n\"He is not dead, but escaped.\"\n\nMagua shook his head incredulously.\n\n\"Is he a bird, to spread his wings; or is he a fish, to swim without\nair! The white chief reads in his books, and he believes the Hurons are\nfools!\"\n\n\"Though no fish, The Long Rifle can swim. He floated down the stream\nwhen the powder was all burnt, and when the eyes of the Hurons were\nbehind a cloud.\"\n\n\"And why did the white chief stay?\" demanded the still incredulous\nIndian. \"Is he a stone that goes to the bottom, or does the scalp burn\nhis head?\"\n\n\"That I am not a stone, your dead comrade, who fell into the falls,\nmight answer, were the life still in him,\" said the provoked young man,\nusing, in his anger, that boastful language which was most likely to\nexcite the admiration of an Indian. \"The white man thinks none but\ncowards desert their women.\"\n\nMagua muttered a few words, inaudibly, between his teeth, before he\ncontinued, aloud,--\n\n\"Can the Delawares swim, too, as well as crawl in the bushes? Where is\nLe Gros Serpent?\"\n\nDuncan, who perceived by the use of these Canadian appellations, that\nhis late companions were much better known to his enemies than to\nhimself, answered, reluctantly, \"He also is gone down with the water.\"\n\n\"Le Cerf Agile is not here?\"\n\n\"I know not whom you call 'The Nimble Deer,'\" said Duncan, gladly\nprofiting by any excuse to create delay.\n\n\"Uncas,\" returned Magua, pronouncing the Delaware name with even greater\ndifficulty than he spoke his English words. \"'Bounding Elk' is what the\nwhite man says, when he calls to the young Mohican.\"\n\n\"Here is some confusion in names between us, Le Renard,\" said Duncan,\nhoping to provoke a discussion. \"_Daim_ is the French for deer, and\n_cerf_ for stag; _elan_ is the true term, when one would speak of an\nelk.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" muttered the Indian, in his native tongue; \"the pale-faces are\nprattling women! they have two words for each thing, while a redskin\nwill make the sound of his voice speak for him.\" Then changing his\nlanguage, he continued, adhering to the imperfect nomenclature of his\nprovincial instructors, \"The deer is swift, but weak; the elk is swift,\nbut strong; and the son of Le Serpent is Le Cerf Agile. Has he leaped\nthe river to the woods?\"\n\n\"If you mean the younger Delaware, he too is gone down with the water.\"\n\nAs there was nothing improbable to an Indian in the manner of the\nescape, Magua admitted the truth of what he had heard, with a readiness\nthat afforded additional evidence how little he would prize such\nworthless captives. With his companions, however, the feeling was\nmanifestly different.\n\nThe Hurons had awaited the result of this short dialogue with\ncharacteristic patience, and with a silence that increased until there\nwas a general stillness in the band. When Heyward ceased to speak, they\nturned their eyes, as one man, on Magua, demanding, in this expressive\nmanner, an explanation of what had been said. Their interpreter pointed\nto the river, and made them acquainted with the result, as much by the\naction as by the few words he uttered. When the fact was generally\nunderstood, the savages raised a frightful yell, which declared the\nextent of their disappointment. Some ran furiously to the water's edge,\nbeating the air with frantic gestures, while others spat upon the\nelement, to resent the supposed treason it had committed against their\nacknowledged rights as conquerors. A few, and they not the least\npowerful and terrific of the band, threw lowering looks, in which the\nfiercest passion was only tempered by habitual self-command, at those\ncaptives who still remained in their power; while one or two even gave\nvent to their malignant feelings by the most menacing gestures, against\nwhich neither the sex nor the beauty of the sisters was any protection.\nThe young soldier made a desperate, but fruitless effort, to spring to\nthe side of Alice, when he saw the dark hand of a savage twisted in the\nrich tresses which were flowing in volumes over her shoulders, while a\nknife was passed around the head from which they fell, as if to denote\nthe horrid manner in which it was about to be robbed of its beautiful\nornament. But his hands were bound; and at the first movement he made,\nhe felt the grasp of the powerful Indian who directed the band, pressing\nhis shoulder like a vise. Immediately conscious how unavailing any\nstruggle against such an overwhelming force must prove, he submitted to\nhis fate, encouraging his gentle companions by a few low and tender\nassurances that the natives seldom failed to threaten more than they\nperformed.\n\nBut, while Duncan resorted to these words of consolation to quiet the\napprehensions of the sisters, he was not so weak as to deceive himself.\nHe well knew that the authority of an Indian chief was so little\nconventional, that it was oftener maintained by physical superiority\nthan by any moral supremacy he might possess. The danger was, therefore,\nmagnified exactly in proportion to the number of the savage spirits by\nwhich they were surrounded. The most positive mandate from him who\nseemed the acknowledged leader, was liable to be violated at each\nmoment, by any rash hand that might choose to sacrifice a victim to the\n_manes_ of some dead friend or relative. While, therefore, he sustained\nan outward appearance of calmness and fortitude, his heart leaped into\nhis throat, whenever any of their fierce captors drew nearer than common\nto the helpless sisters, or fastened one of their sullen wandering looks\non those fragile forms which were so little able to resist the slightest\nassault.\n\nHis apprehensions were, however, greatly relieved, when he saw that the\nleader had summoned his warriors to himself in council. Their\ndeliberations were short, and it would seem, by the silence of most of\nthe party, the decision unanimous. By the frequency with which the few\nspeakers pointed in the direction of the encampment of Webb, it was\napparent they dreaded the approach of danger from that quarter. This\nconsideration probably hastened their determination, and quickened the\nsubsequent movements.\n\nDuring this short conference, Heyward, finding a respite from his\ngreatest fears, had leisure to admire the cautious manner in which the\nHurons had made their approaches, even after hostilities had ceased.\n\nIt has already been stated, that the upper half of the island was a\nnaked rock, and destitute of any other defences than a few scattered\nlogs of drift-wood. They had selected this point to make their descent,\nhaving borne the canoe through the wood around the cataract for that\npurpose. Placing their arms in the little vessel, a dozen men cling\nto its sides had trusted themselves to the direction of the canoe, which\nwas controlled by two of the most skilful warriors, in attitudes that\nenabled them to command a view of the dangerous passage. Favored by this\narrangement, they touched the head of the island at that point which had\nproved so fatal to their first adventures, but with the advantages of\nsuperior numbers, and the possession of fire-arms. That such had been\nthe manner of their descent was rendered quite apparent to Duncan; for\nthey now bore the light bark from the upper end of the rock, and placed\nit in the water, near the mouth of the outer cavern. As soon as this\nchange was made, the leader made signs to the prisoners to descend and\nenter.\n\nAs resistance was impossible, and remonstrance useless, Heyward set the\nexample of submission, by leading the way into the canoe, where he was\nsoon seated with the sisters, and the still wondering David.\nNotwithstanding the Hurons were necessarily ignorant of the little\nchannels among the eddies and rapids of the stream, they knew the common\nsigns of such a navigation too well to commit any material blunder. When\nthe pilot chosen for the task of guiding the canoe had taken his\nstation, the whole band plunged again into the river, the vessel glided\ndown the current, and in a few moments the captives found themselves on\nthe south bank of the stream, nearly opposite to the point where they\nhad struck it the preceding evening.\n\nHere was held another short but earnest consultation, during which the\nhorses, to whose panic their owners ascribed their heaviest misfortune,\nwere led from the cover of the woods, and brought to the sheltered spot.\nThe band now divided. The great chief so often mentioned, mounting the\ncharger of Heyward, led the way directly across the river, followed by\nmost of his people, and disappeared in the woods, leaving the prisoners\nin charge of six savages, at whose head was Le Renard Subtil. Duncan\nwitnessed all their movements with renewed uneasiness.\n\nHe had been fond of believing, from the uncommon forbearance of the\nsavages, that he was reserved as a prisoner to be delivered to Montcalm.\nAs the thoughts of those who are in misery seldom slumber, and the\ninvention is never more lively than when it is stimulated by hope,\nhowever feeble and remote, he had even imagined that the parental\nfeelings of Munro were to be made instrumental in seducing him from his\nduty to the king. For though the French commander bore a high character\nfor courage and enterprise, he was also thought to be expert in those\npolitical practices, which do not always respect the nicer obligations\nof morality, and which so generally disgraced the European diplomacy of\nthat period.\n\nAll those busy and ingenious speculations were now annihilated by the\nconduct of his captors. That portion of the band who had followed the\nhuge warrior took the route towards the foot of the Horican, and no\nother expectation was left for himself and companions, than that they\nwere to be retained as hopeless captives by their savage conquerors.\nAnxious to know the worst, and willing, in such an emergency, to try the\npotency of gold, he overcame his reluctance to speak to Magua.\nAddressing himself to his former guide, who had now assumed the\nauthority and manner of one who was to direct the future movements of\nthe party, he said, in tones as friendly and confiding as he could\nassume,--\n\n\"I would speak to Magua, what is fit only for so great a chief to hear.\"\n\nThe Indian turned his eyes on the young soldier scornfully, as he\nanswered,--\n\n\"Speak; trees have no ears!\"\n\n\"But the red Hurons are not deaf; and counsel that is fit for the great\nmen of a nation would make the young warriors drunk. If Magua will not\nlisten, the officer of the king knows how to be silent.\"\n\nThe savage spoke carelessly to his comrades, who were busied, after\ntheir awkward manner, in preparing the horses for the reception of the\nsisters, and moved a little to one side, whither, by a cautious gesture,\nhe induced Heyward to follow.\n\n\"Now speak,\" he said; \"if the words are such as Magua should hear.\"\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil has proved himself worthy of the honorable name given\nto him by his Canada fathers,\" commenced Heyward; \"I see his wisdom, and\nall that he has done for us, and shall remember it, when the hour to\nreward him arrives. Yes! Renard has proved that he is not only a great\nchief in council, but one who knows how to deceive his enemies!\"\n\n\"What has Renard done?\" coldly demanded the Indian.\n\n\"What! has he not seen that the woods were filled with outlying parties\nof the enemies, and that the Serpent could not steal through them\nwithout being seen? Then, did he not lose his path to blind the eyes of\nthe Hurons? Did he not pretend to go back to his tribe, who had treated\nhim ill, and driven him from their wigwams like a dog? And, when we saw\nwhat he wished to do, did we not aid him, by making a false face, that\nthe Hurons might think the white man believed that his friend was his\nenemy? Is not all this true? And when Le Subtil had shut the eyes and\nstopped the ears of his nation by his wisdom, did they not forget that\nthey had once done him wrong, and forced him to flee to the Mohawks? And\ndid they not leave him on the south side of the river, with their\nprisoners, while they have gone foolishly on the north? Does not Renard\nmean to turn like a fox on his footsteps, and to carry to the rich and\ngray-headed Scotchman his daughters? Yes, Magua, I see it all, and I\nhave already been thinking how so much wisdom and honesty should be\nrepaid. First, the chief of William Henry will give as a great chief\nshould for such a service. The medal[16] of Magua will no longer be of\ntin, but of beaten gold; his horn will run over with powder; dollars\nwill be as plenty in his pouch as pebbles on the shore of Horican; and\nthe deer will lick his hand, for they will know it to be vain to fly\nfrom the rifle he will carry! As for myself, I know not how to exceed\nthe gratitude of the Scotchman, but I--yes, I will--\"\n\n\"What will the young chief who comes from towards the sun, give?\"\ndemanded the Huron, observing that Heyward hesitated in his desire to\nend the enumeration of benefits with that which might form the climax of\nan Indian's wishes.\n\n\"He will make the fire-water from the Islands in the salt lake flow\nbefore the wigwam of Magua, until the heart of the Indian shall be\nlighter than the feathers of the humming-bird, and his breath sweeter\nthan the wild honeysuckle.\"\n\nLe Renard had listened gravely as Heyward slowly proceeded in his subtle\nspeech. When the young man mentioned the artifice he supposed the Indian\nto have practised on his own nation, the countenance of the listener was\nveiled in an expression of cautious gravity. At the allusion to the\ninjury which Duncan affected to believe had driven the Huron from his\nnative tribe, a gleam of such ungovernable ferocity flashed from the\nother's eyes, as induced the adventurous speaker to believe he had\nstruck the proper chord. And by the time he reached the part where he so\nartfully blended the thirst of vengeance with the desire of gain, he\nhad, at least, obtained a command of the deepest attention of the\nsavage. The question put by Le Renard had been calm, and with all the\ndignity of an Indian; but it was quite apparent, by the thoughtful\nexpression of the listener's countenance, that the answer was most\ncunningly devised. The Huron mused a few moments, and then laying his\nhand on the rude bandages of his wounded shoulder, he said, with some\nenergy,--\n\n\"Do friends make such remarks?\"\n\n\"Would La Longue Carabine cut one so light on an enemy?\"\n\n\"Do the Delawares crawl upon those they love, like snakes, twisting\nthemselves to strike?\"\n\n\"Would Le Gros Serpent have been heard by the ears of one he wished to\nbe deaf?\"\n\n\"Does the white chief burn his powder in the faces of his brothers?\"\n\n\"Does he ever miss his aim, when seriously bent to kill?\" returned\nDuncan, smiling with well acted sincerity.\n\nAnother long and deliberate pause succeeded these sentious questions\nand ready replies. Duncan saw that the Indian hesitated. In order to\ncomplete his victory, he was in the act of recommencing the enumeration\nof the rewards, when Magua made an expressive gesture and said--\n\n\"Enough; Le Renard is a wise chief, and what he does will be seen. Go,\nand keep the mouth shut. When Magua speaks, it will be the time to\nanswer.\"\n\nHeyward, perceiving that the eyes of his companion were warily fastened\non the rest of the band, fell back immediately, in order to avoid the\nappearance of any suspicious confederacy with their leader. Magua\napproached the horses, and affected to be well pleased with the\ndiligence and ingenuity of his comrades. He then signed to Heyward to\nassist the sisters into the saddles, for he seldom deigned to use the\nEnglish tongue, unless urged by some motive of more than usual moment.\n\nThere was no longer any plausible pretext for delay; and Duncan was\nobliged, however reluctantly, to comply. As he performed this office, he\nwhispered his reviving hopes in the ears of the trembling females, who,\nthrough dread of encountering the savage countenances of their captors,\nseldom raised their eyes from the ground. The mare of David had been\ntaken with the followers of the large chief; in consequence, its owner,\nas well as Duncan, was compelled to journey on foot. The latter did not,\nhowever, so much regret this circumstance, as it might enable him to\nretard the speed of the party; for he still turned his longing looks in\nthe direction of Fort Edward, in the vain expectation of catching some\nsound from that quarter of the forest, which might denote the approach\nof succor.\n\nWhen all were prepared, Magua made the signal to proceed, advancing in\nfront to lead the party in person. Next followed David, who was\ngradually coming to a true sense of his condition, as the effects of the\nwound became less and less apparent. The sisters rode in his rear, with\nHeyward at their side, while the Indians flanked the party, and brought\nup the close of the march, with a caution that seemed never to tire.\n\nIn this manner they proceeded in uninterrupted silence, except when\nHeyward addressed some solitary word of comfort to the females, or David\ngave vent to the moanings of his spirit in piteous exclamations, which\nhe intended should express the humility of resignation. Their direction\nlay towards the south, and in a course nearly opposite to the road to\nWilliam Henry. Notwithstanding this apparent adherence in Magua to the\noriginal determination of his conquerors, Heyward could not believe his\ntempting bait was so soon forgotten; and he knew the windings of an\nIndian path too well, to suppose that its apparent course led directly\nto its object, when artifice was at all necessary. Mile after mile was,\nhowever, passed through the boundless woods, in this painful manner,\nwithout any prospect of a termination to their journey. Heyward watched\nthe sun, as he darted his meridian rays through the branches of the\ntrees, and pined for the moment when the policy of Magua should change\ntheir route to one more favorable to his hopes. Sometimes he fancied the\nwary savage, despairing of passing the arm of Montcalm in safety, was\nholding his way towards a well-known border settlement, where a\ndistinguished officer of the crown, and a favored friend of the Six\nNations, held his large possessions, as well as his usual residence. To\nbe delivered into the hands of Sir William Johnson was far preferable to\nbeing led into the wilds of Canada; but in order to effect even the\nformer, it would be necessary to traverse the forest for many weary\nleagues, each step of which was carrying him farther from the scene of\nthe war, and, consequently, from the post, not only of honor, but of\nduty.\n\nCora alone remembered the parting injunctions of the scout, and whenever\nan opportunity offered, she stretched forth her arm to bend aside the\ntwigs that met her hands. But the vigilance of the Indians rendered this\nact of precaution both difficult and dangerous. She was often defeated\nin her purpose, by encountering their watchful eyes, when it became\nnecessary to feign an alarm she did not feel, and occupy the limb by\nsome gesture of feminine apprehension. Once, and once only, was she\ncompletely successful; when she broke down the bough of a large sumach,\nand, by a sudden thought, let her glove fall at the same instant. This\nsign, intended for those that might follow, was observed by one of her\nconductors, who restored the glove, broke the remaining branches of the\nbush in such a manner that it appeared to proceed from the struggling of\nsome beast in its branches, and then laid his hand on his tomahawk, with\na look so significant, that it put an effectual end to these stolen\nmemorials of their passage.\n\nAs there were horses, to leave the prints of their footsteps, in both\nbands of the Indians, this interruption cut off any probable hopes of\nassistance being conveyed through the means of their trail.\n\nHeyward would have ventured a remonstrance, had there been anything\nencouraging in the gloomy reserve of Magua. But the savage, during all\nthis time, seldom turned to look at his followers, and never spoke. With\nthe sun for his only guide, or aided by such blind marks as are only\nknown to the sagacity of a native, he held his way along the barrens of\npine, through occasional little fertile vales, across brooks and\nrivulets, and over undulating hills, with the accuracy of instinct, and\nnearly with the directness of a bird. He never seemed to hesitate.\nWhether the path was hardly distinguishable, whether it disappeared, or\nwhether it lay beaten and plain before him, made no sensible difference\nin his speed or certainty. It seemed as if fatigue could not affect him.\nWhenever the eyes of the wearied travellers rose from the decayed leaves\nover which they trod, his dark form was to be seen glancing among the\nstems of the trees in front, his head immovably fastened in a forward\nposition, with the light plume on his crest fluttering in a current of\nair, made solely by the swiftness of his own motion.\n\nBut all this diligence and speed were not without an object. After\ncrossing a low vale, through which a gushing brook meandered, he\nsuddenly ascended a hill, so steep and difficult of ascent, that the\nsisters were compelled to alight, in order to follow. When the summit\nwas gained, they found themselves on a level spot, but thinly covered\nwith trees, under one of which Magua had thrown his dark form, as if\nwilling and ready to seek that rest which was so much needed by the\nwhole party.\n\n \"Cursed by my tribe\n If I forgive him.\"\n\n _Shylock._\n\nThe Indian had selected, for this desirable purpose, one of those steep,\npyramidal hills, which bear a strong resemblance to artificial mounds,\nand which so frequently occur in the valleys of America. The one in\nquestion was high and precipitous; its top flattened, as usual; but with\none of its sides more than ordinarily irregular. It possed no other\napparent advantage for a resting-place than in its elevation and form,\nwhich might render defence easy, and surprise nearly impossible. As\nHeyward, however, no longer expected that rescue which time and distance\nnow rendered so improbable, he regarded these little peculiarities with\nan eye devoid of interest, devoting himself entirely to the comfort and\ncondolence of his feebler companions. The Narragansetts were suffered to\nbrowse on the branches of the trees and shrubs that were thinly\nscattered over the summit of the hill, while the remains of their\nprovisions were spread under the shade of a beech, that stretched its\nhorizontal limbs like a canopy above them.\n\nNotwithstanding the swiftness of their flight, one of the Indians had\nfound an opportunity to strike a straggling fawn with an arrow, and had\nborne the more preferable fragments of the victim patiently on his\nshoulders, to the stopping-place. Without any aid from the science of\ncookery, he was immediately employed, in common with his fellows, in\ngorging himself with this digestible sustenance. Magua alone sat apart,\nwithout participation in the revolting meal, and apparently buried in\nthe deepest thought.\n\nThis abstinence, so remarkable in an Indian, when he possed the means\nof satisfying hunger, at length attracted the notice of Heyward. The\nyoung man willingly believed that the Huron deliberated on the most\neligible manner of eluding the vigilance of his associates. With a view\nto assist his plans, by any suggestion of his own, and to strengthen the\ntemptation, he left the beech, and straggled as if without an object, to\nthe spot where Le Renard was seated.\n\n\"Has not Magua kept the sun in his face long enough to escape all danger\nfrom the Canadians?\" he asked, as though no longer doubtful of the good\nintelligence established between them; \"and will not the chief of\nWilliam Henry be better pleased to see his daughters before another\nnight may have hardened his heart to their loss, to make him less\nliberal in his reward?\"\n\n\"Do the pale-faces love their children less in the morning than at\nnight?\" asked the Indian, coldly.\n\n\"By no means,\" returned Heyward, anxious to recall his error, if he had\nmade one; \"the white man may, and does often, forget the burial-place of\nhis fathers; he sometimes ceases to remember those he should love and\nhas promised to cherish; but the affection of a parent for his child is\nnever permitted to die.\"\n\n\"And is the heart of the white-headed chief soft, and will he think of\nthe babes that his squaws have given him? He is hard to his warriors,\nand his eyes are made of stone!\"\n\n\"He is severe to the idle and wicked, but to the sober and deserving he\nis a leader, but just and humane. I have known many fond and tender\nparents, but never have I seen a man whose heart was softer towards his\nchild. You have seen the gray-head in front of his warriors, Magua; but\nI have seen his eyes swimming in water, when he spoke of those children\nwho are now in your power!\"\n\nHeyward paused, for he knew not how to construe the remarkable\nexpression that gleamed across the swarthy features of the attentive\nIndian. At first it seemed as if the remembrance of the promised reward\ngrew vivid in his mind, while he listened to the sources of parental\nfeeling which were to assure its possession; but as Duncan proceeded,\nthe expression of joy became so fiercely malignant, that it was\nimpossible not to apprehend it proceeded from some passion more sinister\nthan avarice.\n\n\"Go,\" said the Huron, suppressing the alarming exhibition in an instant,\nin a death-like calmness of countenance; \"go to the dark-haired\ndaughter, and say, Magua waits to speak. The father will remember what\nthe child promises.\"\n\nDuncan, who interpreted this speech to express a wish for some\nadditional pledge that the promised gifts should not be withheld,\nslowly and reluctantly repaired to the place where the sisters were now\nresting from their fatigue, to communicate its purport to Cora.\n\n\"You understand the nature of an Indian's wishes,\" he concluded, as he\nled her towards the place where she was expected, \"and must be prodigal\nof your offers of powder and blankets. Ardent spirits are, however, the\nmost prized by such as he; nor would it be amiss to add some boon from\nyour own hand, with that grace you so well know how to practise.\nRemember, Cora, that on your presence of mind and ingenuity even your\nlife, as well as that of Alice, may in some measure depend.\"\n\n\"Heyward, and yours!\"\n\n\"Mine is of little moment; it is already sold to my king, and is a prize\nto be seized by any enemy who may possess the power. I have no father to\nexpect me, and but few friends to lament a fate which I have courted\nwith the insatiable longings of youth after distinction. But hush! we\napproach the Indian. Magua, the lady with whom you wish to speak is\nhere.\"\n\nThe Indian rose slowly from his seat, and stood for near a minute silent\nand motionless. He then signed with his hand for Heyward to retire,\nsaying coldly,--\n\n\"When the Huron talks to the women, his tribe shut their ears.\"\n\nDuncan, still lingering, as if refusing to comply, Cora said, with a\ncalm smile--\n\n\"You hear, Heyward, and delicacy at least should urge you to retire. Go\nto Alice, and comfort her with our reviving prospects.\"\n\nShe waited until he had departed, and then turning to the native, with\nthe dignity of her sex in her voice and manner, she added, \"What would\nLe Renard say to the daughter of Munro?\"\n\n\"Listen,\" said the Indian, laying his hand firmly upon her arm, as if\nwilling to draw her utmost attention to his words; a movement that Cora\nas firmly but quietly repulsed, by extricating the limb from his grasp:\n\"Magua was born a chief and a warrior among the red Hurons of the lakes;\nhe saw the suns of twenty summers make the snows of twenty winters run\noff in the streams, before he saw a pale-face; and he was happy! Then\nhis Canada fathers came into the woods, and taught him to drink the\nfire-water, and he became a rascal. The Hurons drove him from the graves\nof his fathers, as they would chase the hunted buffalo. He ran down the\nshores of the lakes, and followed their outlet to the 'city of cannon.'\nThere he hunted and fished, till the people chased him again through the\nwoods into the arms of his enemies. The chief, who was born a Huron, was\nat last a warrior among the Mohawks!\"\n\n\"Something like this I had heard before,\" said Cora, observing that he\npaused to suppress those passions which began to burn with too bright a\nflame, as he recalled the recollection of his supposed injuries.\n\n\"Was it the fault of Le Renard that his head was not made of rock? Who\ngave him the fire-water? who made him a villain? 'Twas the pale-faces,\nthe people of your own color.\"\n\n\"And am I answerable that thoughtless and unprincipled men exist, whose\nshades of countenance may resemble mine?\" Cora calmly demanded of the\nexcited savage.\n\n\"No; Magua is a man, and not a fool; such as you never open their lips\nto the burning stream: the Great Spirit has given you wisdom!\"\n\n\"What then have I to do, or say, in the matter of your misfortunes, not\nto say of your errors?\"\n\n\"Listen,\" repeated the Indian, resuming his earnest attitude; \"when his\nEnglish and French fathers dug up the hatchet, Le Renard struck the\nwar-post of the Mohawks, and went out against his own nation. The\npale-faces have driven the redskins from their hunting-grounds, and now\nwhen they fight, a white man leads the way. The old chief at Horican,\nyour father, was the great captain of our war-party. He said to the\nMohawks do this, and do that, and he was minded. He made a law, that if\nan Indian swallowed the fire-water, and came into the cloth wigwams of\nhis warriors, it should not be forgotten. Magua foolishly opened his\nmouth, and the hot liquor led him into the cabin of Munro. What did the\ngray-head? let his daughter say.\"\n\n\"He forgot not his words, and did justice by punishing the offender,\"\nsaid the undaunted daughter.\n\n\"Justice!\" repeated the Indian, casting an oblique glance of the most\nferocious expression at her unyielding countenance; \"is it justice to\nmake evil, and then punish for it? Magua was not himself; it was the\nfire-water that spoke and acted for him! but Munro did not believe it.\nThe Huron chief was tied up before all the pale-faced warriors, and\nwhipped like a dog.\"\n\nCora remained silent, for she knew not how to palliate this imprudent\nseverity on the part of her father, in a manner to suit the\ncomprehension of an Indian.\n\n\"See!\" continued Magua, tearing aside the slight calico that very\nimperfectly concealed his painted breast; \"here are scars given by\nknives and bullets--of these a warrior may boast before his nation; but\nthe gray-head has left marks on the back of the Huron chief, that he\nmust hide, like a squaw, under this painted cloth of the whites.\"\n\n\"I had thought,\" resumed Cora, \"that an Indian warrior was patient, and\nthat his spirit felt not, and knew not, the pain his body suffered.\"\n\n\"When the Chippewas tied Magua to the stake, and cut this gash,\" said\nthe other, laying his finger on a deep scar, \"the Huron laughed in their\nfaces, and told them, Women struck so light! His spirit was then in the\nclouds! But when he felt the blows of Munro, his spirit lay under the\nbirch. The spirit of a Huron is never drunk; it remembers forever!\"\n\n\"But it may be appeased. If my father has done you this injustice, show\nhim how an Indian can forgive an injury, and take back his daughters.\nYou have heard from Major Heyward--\"\n\nMagua shook his head, forbidding the repetition of offers he so much\ndespised.\n\n\"What would you have?\" continued Cora, after a most painful pause, while\nthe conviction forced itself on her mind that the too sanguine and\ngenerous Duncan had been cruelly deceived by the cunning of the savage.\n\n\"What a Huron loves--good for good; bad for bad!\"\n\n\"You would then revenge the injury inflicted by Munro on his helpless\ndaughters. Would it not be more like a man to go before his face, and\ntake the satisfaction of a warrior?\"\n\n\"The arms of the pale-faces are long, and their knives sharp!\" returned\nthe savage, with a malignant laugh: \"why should Le Renard go among the\nmuskets of his warriors, when he holds the spirit of the gray-head in\nhis hand?\"\n\n\"Name your intention, Magua,\" said Cora, struggling with herself to\nspeak with steady calmness. \"Is it to lead us prisoners to the woods, or\ndo you contemplate even some greater evil? Is there no reward, no means\nof palliating the injury, and of softening your heart? At least, release\nmy gentle sister, and pour out all your malice on me. Purchase wealth by\nher safety, and satisfy your revenge with a single victim. The loss of\nboth of his daughters might bring the aged man to his grave, and where\nwould then be the satisfaction of Le Renard?\"\n\n\"Listen,\" said the Indian again. \"The light eyes can go back to the\nHorican, and tell the old chief what has been done, if the dark-haired\nwoman will swear by the Great Spirit of her fathers to tell no lie.\"\n\n\"What must I promise?\" demanded Cora, still maintaining a secret\nascendency over the fierce native, by the collected and feminine dignity\nof her presence.\n\n\"When Magua left his people, his wife was given to another chief; he has\nnow made friends with the Hurons, and will go back to the graves of his\ntribe, on the shores of the great lake. Let the daughter of the English\nchief follow, and live in his wigwam forever.\"\n\nHowever revolting a proposal of such a character might prove to Cora,\nshe retained, notwithstanding her powerful disgust, sufficient\nself-command to reply, without betraying the weakness.\n\n\"And what pleasure would Magua find in sharing his cabin with a wife he\ndid not love; one who would be of a nation and color different from his\nown? It would be better to take the gold of Munro, and buy the heart of\nsome Huron maid with his gifts.\"\n\nThe Indian made no reply for near a minute, but bent his fierce looks on\nthe countenance of Cora, in such wavering glances, that her eyes sank\nwith shame, under an impression that, for the first time, they had\nencountered an expression that no chaste female might endure. While she\nwas shrinking within herself, in dread of having her ears wounded by\nsome proposal still more shocking than the last, the voice of Magua\nanswered, in its tones of deepest malignancy--\n\n\"When the blows scorched the back of the Huron, he would know where to\nfind a woman to feel the smart. The daughter of Munro would draw his\nwater, hoe his corn, and cook his venison. The body of the gray-head\nwould sleep among his cannon, but his heart would lie within reach of\nthe knife of Le Subtil.\"\n\n\"Monster! well dost thou deserve thy treacherous name!\" cried Cora, in\nan ungovernable burst of filial indignation. \"None but a fiend could\nmeditate such a vengeance! But thou overratest thy power! You shall find\nit is, in truth, the heart of Munro you hold, and that it will defy your\nutmost malice!\"\n\nThe Indian answered this bold defiance by a ghastly smile, that showed\nan unaltered purpose, while he motioned her away, as if to close the\nconference forever. Cora, already regretting her precipitation, was\nobliged to comply, for Magua instantly left the spot, and approached his\ngluttonous comrades. Heyward flew to the side of the agitated female,\nand demanded the result of a dialogue that he had watched at a distance\nwith so much interest. But unwilling to alarm the fears of Alice, she\nevaded a direct reply, betraying only by her countenance her utter want\nof success, and keeping her anxious looks fastened on the slightest\nmovements of their captors. To the reiterated and earnest questions of\nher sister, concerning their probable destination, she made no other\nanswer than by pointing towards the dark group, with an agitation she\ncould not control, and muring, as she folded Alice to her bosom--\n\n\"There, there; read our fortunes in their faces; we shall see; we shall\nsee!\"\n\nThe action, and the choked utterance of Cora, spoke more impressively\nthan any words, and quickly drew the attention of her companions on that\nspot where her own was riveted with an intenseness that nothing but the\nimportance of the stake could create.\n\nWhen Magua reached the cluster of lolling savages, who, gorged with\ntheir disgusting meal, lay stretched on the earth in brutal indulgence,\nhe commenced speaking with the dignity of an Indian chief. The first\nsyllables he uttered had the effect to cause his listeners to raise\nthemselves in attitudes of respectful attention. As the Huron used his\nnative language, the prisoners, notwithstanding the caution of the\nnatives had kept them within the swing of their tomahawks, could only\nconjecture the substance of his harrangue, from the nature of those\nsignificant gestures with which an Indian always illustrates his\neloquence.\n\nAt first, the language, as well as the action of Magua, appeared calm\nand deliberate. When he had succeeded in sufficiently awakening the\nattention of his comrades, Heyward fancied, by his pointing so\nfrequently towards the direction of the great lakes, that he spoke of\nthe land of their fathers, and of their distant tribe. Frequent\nindications of applause escaped the listeners, who, as they uttered the\nexpressive \"Hugh!\" looked at each other in commendation of the speaker.\nLe Renard was too skilful to neglect his advantage. He now spoke of the\nlong and painful route by which they had left those spacious grounds and\nhappy villages, to come and battle against the enemies of their\nCanadian fathers. He enumerated the warriors of the party; their\nseveral merits; their frequent services to the nation; their wounds, and\nthe number of the scalps they had taken. Whenever he alluded to any\npresent (and the subtle Indian neglected none), the dark countenance of\nthe flattered individual gleamed with exultation, nor did he even\nhesitate to assert the truth of the words, by gestures of applause and\nconfirmation. Then the voice of the speaker fell, and lost the loud,\nanimated tones of triumph with which he had enumerated their deeds of\nsuccess and victory. He described the cataract of Glenn's; the\nimpregnable position of its rocky island, with its caverns, and its\nnumerous rapids and whirlpools; he named the name of La Longue Carabine,\nand paused until the forest beneath them had sent up the last echo of a\nloud and long yell, with which the hated appellation was received. He\npointed towards the youthful military captive, and described the death\nof a favorite warrior, who had been precipitated into the deep ravine by\nhis hand. He not only mentioned the fate of him who, hanging between\nheaven and earth, had presented such a spectacle of horror to the whole\nband, but he acted anew the terrors of his situation, his resolution and\nhis death, on the branches of a sapling; and, finally, he rapidly\nrecounted the manner in which each of their friends had fallen, never\nfailing to touch upon their courage, and their most acknowledged\nvirtues. When this recital of events was ended, his voice once more\nchanged, and became plaintive, and even musical, in its low guttural\nsounds. He now spoke of the wives and children of the slain; their\ndestitution; their misery, both physical and moral; their distance; and,\nat last, of their unavenged wrongs. Then suddenly lifting his voice to a\npitch of terrific energy, he concluded, by demanding,--\n\n\"Are the Hurons dogs to bear this? Who shall say to the wife of Menowgua\nthat the fishes have his scalp, and that his nation have not taken\nrevenge! Who will dare meet the mother of Wassawattimie, that scornful\nwoman, with his hands clean! What shall be said to the old men when they\nask us for scalps, and we have not a hair from a white head to give\nthem! The women will point their fingers at us. There is a dark spot on\nthe names of the Hurons, and it must be hid in blood!\"\n\nHis voice was no longer audible in the burst of rage which now broke\ninto the air, as if the wood, instead of containing so small a band, was\nfilled with the nation. During the foregoing address the progress of the\nspeaker was too plainly read by those most interested in his success,\nthrough the medium of the countenances of the men he addressed. They had\nanswered his melancholy and mourning by sympathy and sorrow; his\nassertions, by gestures of confirmation; and his boastings, with the\nexultation of savages. When he spoke of courage, their looks were firm\nand responsive; when he alluded to their injuries, their eyes kindled\nwith fury; when he mentioned the taunts of the women, they dropped their\nheads in shame; but when he pointed out their means of vengeance, he\nstruck a chord which never failed to thrill in the breast of an Indian.\nWith the first intimation that it was within their reach, the whole band\nsprang upon their feet as one man; giving utterance to their rage in the\nmost frantic cries, they rushed upon their prisoners in a body with\ndrawn knives and uplifted tomahawks. Heyward threw himself between the\nsisters and the foremost, whom he grappled with a desperate strength\nthat for a moment checked his violence. This unexpected resistance gave\nMagua time to interpose, and with rapid enunciation and animated\ngesture, he drew the attention of the band again to himself. In that\nlanguage he knew so well how to assume, he diverted his comrades from\ntheir instant purpose, and invited them to prolong the misery of their\nvictims. His proposal was received with acclamations, and executed with\nthe swiftness of thought.\n\nTwo powerful warriors cast themselves on Heyward, while another was\noccupied in securing the less active sing-master. Neither of the\ncaptives, however, submitted without a desperate though fruitless\nstruggle. Even David hurled his assailant to the earth; nor was Heyward\nsecured until the victory over his companion enabled the Indians to\ndirect their united force to that object. He was then bound and fastened\nto the body of the sapling, on whose branches Magua had acted the\npantomime of the falling Huron. When the young soldier regained his\nrecollection, he had the painful certainty before his eyes that a common\nfate was intended for the whole party. On his right was Cora, in a\ndurance similar to his own, pale and agitated, but with an eye, whose\nsteady look still read the proceedings of their enemies. On his left,\nthe withes which bound her to a pine, performed that office for Alice\nwhich her trembling limbs refused, and alone kept her fragile form from\nsinking. Her hands were clasped before her in prayer, but instead of\nlooking upwards towards that power which alone could rescue them, her\nunconscious looks wandered to the countenance of Duncan with infantile\ndependency. David had contended, and the novelty of the circumstance\nheld him silent, in deliberation on the propriety of the unusual\noccurrence.\n\nThe vengeance of the Hurons had now taken a new direction, and they\nprepared to execute it with that barous ingenuity with which they\nwere familiarized by the practice of centuries. Some sought knots, to\nraise the blazing pile; one was riving the splinters of pine, in order\nto pierce the flesh of their captives with the burning fragments; and\nothers bent the tops of two saplings to the earth, in order to suspend\nHeyward by the arms between the recoiling branches. But the vengeance of\nMagua sought a deeper and a more malignant enjoyment.\n\nWhile the less refined monsters of the band prepared, before the eyes of\nthose who were to suffer, these well known and vulgar means of torture,\nhe approached Cora, and pointed out, with the most malign expression of\ncountenance, the speedy fate that awaited her---\n\n\"Ha!\" he added, \"what says the daughter of Munro? Her head is too good\nto find a pillow in the wigwam of Le Renard; will she like it better\nwhen it rolls about this hill a plaything for the wolves? Her bosom\ncannot nurse the children of a Huron; she will see it spit upon by\nIndians!\"\n\n\"What means the monster!\" demanded the astonished Heyward.\n\n\"Nothing!\" was the firm reply. \"He is a savage, a barous and ignorant\nsavage, and knows not what he does. Let us find leisure, with our dying\nbreath, to ask for him penitence and pardon.\"\n\n\"Pardon!\" echoed the fierce Huron, mistaking, in his anger, the meaning\nof her words; \"the memory of an Indian is longer than the arm of the\npale-faces; his mercy shorter than their justice! Say; shall I send the\nyellow hair to her father, and will you follow Magua to the great lakes,\nto carry his water, and feed him with corn?\"\n\nCora beckoned him away, with an emotion of disgust she could not\ncontrol.\n\n\"Leave me,\" she said, with a solemnity that for a moment checked the\nbarity of the Indian; \"you mingle bitterness in my prayers; you stand\nbetween me and my God!\"\n\nThe slight impression produced on the savage was, however, soon\nforgotten, and he continued pointing, with taunting irony, towards\nAlice.\n\n\"Look! the child weeps! She is young to die! Send her to Munro, to comb\nhis gray hairs, and keep life in the heart of the old man.\"\n\nCora could not resist the desire to look upon her youthful sister, in\nwhose eyes she met an imploring glance, that betrayed the longings of\nnature.\n\n\"What says he, dearest Cora?\" asked the trembling voice of Alice. \"Did\nhe speak of sending me to our father?\"\n\nFor many moments the elder sister looked upon the younger, with a\ncountenance that wavered with powerful and contending emotions. At\nlength she spoke, though her tones had lost their rich and calm fulness,\nin an expression of tenderness that seemed maternal.\n\n\"Alice,\" she said, \"the Huron offers us both life, nay, more than both;\nhe offers to restore Duncan, our invaluable Duncan, as well as you, to\nour friends--to our father--to our heart-stricken, childless father, if\nI will bow down this rebellious, stubborn pride of mine, and consent--\"\n\nHer voice became choked, and clasping her hands, she looked upward, as\nif seeking, in her agony, intelligence from a wisdom that was infinite.\n\n\"Say on,\" cried Alice; \"to what, dearest Cora? O, that the proffer were\nmade to me! to save you, to cheer our aged father, to restore Duncan,\nhow cheerfully could I die!\"\n\n\"Die!\" repeated Cora, with a calmer and a firmer voice, \"that were easy!\nPerhaps the alternative may not be less so. He would have me,\" she\ncontinued, her accents sinking under a deep consciousness of the\ndegradation of the proposal, \"follow him to the wilderness; go to the\nhabitations of the Hurons; to remain there: in short to become his wife!\nSpeak, then, Alice; child of my affections! sister of my love! And you,\ntoo, Major Heyward, aid my weak reason with your counsel. Is life to be\npurchased by such a sacrifice? Will you, Alice, receive it at my hands\nat such a price? And _you_, Duncan, guide me; control me between you;\nfor I am wholly yours.\"\n\n\"Would I!\" echoed the indignant and astonished youth. \"Cora! Cora! you\njest with our misery! Name not the horrid alternative again; the thought\nitself is worse than a thousand deaths.\"\n\n\"That such would be _your_ answer, I well knew!\" exclaimed Cora, her\ncheeks flushing, and her dark eyes once more sparkling with the\nlingering emotions of a woman. \"What says my Alice? for her will I\nsubmit without another mur.\"\n\nAlthough both Heyward and Cora listened with painful suspense and the\ndeepest attention, no sounds were heard in reply. It appeared as if the\ndelicate and sensitive form of Alice would shrink into itself, as she\nlistened to this proposal. Her arms had fallen lengthwise before her,\nthe fingers moving in slight convulsions; her head dropped upon her\nbosom, and her whole person seemed suspended against the tree, looking\nlike some beautiful emblem of the wounded delicacy of her sex, devoid of\nanimation, and yet keenly conscious. In a few moments, however, her head\nbegan to move slowly, in a sign of deep, unconquerable disapprobation.\n\n\"No, no, no; better that we die as we have lived, together!\"\n\n\"Then die!\" shouted Magua, hurling his tomahawk with violence at the\nunresisting speaker, and gnashing his teeth with a rage that could no\nlonger be bridled, at this sudden exhibition of firmness in the one he\nbelieved the weakest of the party. The axe cleaved the air in front of\nHeyward, and cutting some of the flowing ringlets of Alice, quivered in\nthe tree above her head. The sight maddened Duncan to desperation.\nCollecting all his energies in one effort, he snapped the twigs which\nbound him and rushed upon another savage who was preparing with loud\nyells, and a more deliberate aim, to repeat the blow. They encountered,\ngrappled, and fell to the earth together. The naked body of his\nantagonist afforded Heyward no means of holding his adversary, who\nglided from his grasp, and rose again with one knee on his chest,\npressing him down with the weight of a giant. Duncan already saw the\nknife gleaming in the air, when a whistling sound swept past him, and\nwas rather accompanied, than followed, by the sharp crack of a rifle. He\nfelt his breast relieved from the load it had endured; he saw the savage\nexpression of his adversary's countenance change to a look of vacant\nwildness, when the Indian fell dead on the faded leaves by his side.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?"
},
{
"role": "assistant",
"content": " Though at first menaced by the Hurons, Heyward is held for questioning, but he has to turn for interpretation to Magua, whom he sees Hawkeye had wounded on the shoulder. When he finally convinces them that the three woodsmen have escaped, they are furious, and one savage grabs Alice by the hair in a mock scalping. Before real violence can occur, the chief calls a brief council and the entire party crosses to the south bank of the river where the horses are. Mounted on Heyward's charger, the chief leads most of his people away across river, leaving the prisoners in charge of six Indians headed by Magua. The major tries to secure Magua's help by privately implying that he and the redskin have been in collusion to fool the Hurons all along and by offering rewards. Although Heyward adopts the sentious speech of the Indians, Magua is noncommittal as the group heads south, the sisters mounted and the others afoot. Flanked by the Indians, Cora finds it difficult to leave signs on the trail; once when she drops a glove, she is detected and severely warned by one of their conductors. Never speaking, Magua steadily leads the way through the forests and hills until they finally reach a steep, pyramidal hill with a level summit and few trees -- a perfect place for defense and for avoiding surprise. While the warriors eat the raw meat of a fawn, Heyward again engages Magua in talk. Heyward's expression of Munro's love for his daughters brings a gleam of malignant joy to the Indian's face, and the latter insists upon a private talk with Cora. He proudly tells her that he was born a chief but that, after the Canadians taught him to drink firewater, he was driven from his tribe. Once when working for Munro, he came into Munro's cabin drunk and the latter had him tied up and whipped like a dog before the soldiers. He demands, is it \"justice to make evil, and then punish for it?\" Wanting injury for injury, he says he will let Alice go if Cora will come with him as his wife: \"The body of the gray-head would sleep among his cannon, but his heart would lie within reach of the knife of Le Subtil.\" Cora is indignant and returns to her fellow captives. Magua goes to the lolling savages and begins a skillful harangue, building their emotions to the point of rage and vengeance. As they rush upon their prisoners with drawn knives and uplifted tomahawks, Magua villainously invites them to prolong the victims' misery. Heyward and Gamut struggle to no avail, and all four are tied to saplings while splinters and fire are prepared for the torture. Magua again makes his proposal, and Cora leaves the decision to Alice, who hesitates in her weakness but finally says no. Gnashing his teeth, the Huron hurls his tomahawk just above Alice's head, cutting some of her ringlets. Maddened, Heyward snaps his bonds and rushes upon another Indian who is about to throw his weapon. In the struggle, Heyward goes down and the Indian raises his knife fatally. But the crack of a rifle is heard, and the Indian's look changes to vacant wildness as he falls dead on the faded leaves beside Heyward.\n\n"
}
] |
[{"role":"user","content":"Chapter: \"I'll seek a readier path.\"\n\n PARNELL.\n\nThe route taken by(...TRUNCATED) |
[{"role":"user","content":"Chapter: \"Why, anything:\n An honorable murderer, if you will;\n For nau(...TRUNCATED) |
[{"role":"user","content":"Chapter: \"Land of Albania! let me bend mine eyes\n On thee, thou rugged (...TRUNCATED) |
[{"role":"user","content":"Chapter: \"But though the beast of game\n The privilege of chase may clai(...TRUNCATED) |
[{"role":"user","content":"Chapter: \"Brief, I pray you; for you see, 'tis a busy time with me.\"\n\(...TRUNCATED) |
[{"role":"user","content":"Chapter: \"But plagues shall spread, and funeral fires increase,\n Till t(...TRUNCATED) |
[{"role":"user","content":"Chapter: \"They fought, like brave men, long and well,\n They piled that (...TRUNCATED) |
End of preview.
🔥 Updates
[2024.6.4] Add a slim version. The sample number is reduced from about 20k to 10k.
[2024.5.28]
- The data format is converted from "chatml" to "messages", which is more convenient to use
tokenizer.apply_chat_template. The old version has been moved to "legacy" branch. - The version without "Original text paraphrasing" is added.
📊 Long Context Instruction-tuning dataset with "Original text paraphrasing"
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- consist of multiple tasks
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- sample length ranging from 4k to 32k
- the answer contains "Original text paraphrasing" part
长文本指令微调数据
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预训练长文本语料库（中英）LongData-Corpus
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