{"features":[{"feature_idx":0,"name":"text","type":{"dtype":"string","_type":"Value"}},{"feature_idx":1,"name":"prompt","type":{"dtype":"string","_type":"Value"}},{"feature_idx":2,"name":"completion","type":{"dtype":"string","_type":"Value"}}],"rows":[{"row_idx":40,"row":{"text":"Chapter: \"_Edg._--Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.\"\n\n  _King Lear._\n\n\nMajor Heyward found Munro attended only by his daughters. Alice sat upon\nhis knee, parting the gray hairs on the forehead of the old man with her\ndelicate fingers; and, whenever he affected to frown on her trifling,\nappeasing his assumed anger by pressing her ruby lips fondly on his\nwrinkled brow. Cora was seated nigh them, a calm and amused looker-on;\nregarding the wayward movements of her more youthful sister, with that\nspecies of maternal fondness which characterized her love for Alice. Not\nonly the dangers through which they had passed, but those which still\nimpended above them, appeared to be momentarily forgotten, in the\nsoothing indulgence of such a family meeting. It seemed as if they had\nprofited by the short truce, to devote an instant to the purest and best\naffections: the daughters forgetting their fears, and the veteran his\ncares, in the security of the moment. Of this scene, Duncan, who in his\neagerness to report his arrival had entered unannounced, stood many\nmoments an unobserved and a delighted spectator. But the quick and\ndancing eyes of Alice soon caught a glimpse of his figure reflected from\na glass, and she sprang blushing from her father's knee, exclaiming\naloud,--\n\n\"Major Heyward!\"\n\n\"What of the lad?\" demanded the father; \"I have sent him to crack a\nlittle with the Frenchman. Ha! sir, you are young, and you're nimble!\nAway with you, ye baggage; as if there were not troubles enough for a\nsoldier, without having his camp filled with such prattling hussies as\nyourself!\"\n\nAlice laughingly followed her sister, who instantly led the way from an\napartment where she perceived their presence was no longer desirable.\nMunro, instead of demanding the result of the young man's mission, paced\nthe room for a few moments, with his hands behind his back, and his head\ninclined towards the floor, like a man lost in thought. At length he\nraised his eyes, glistening with a father's fondness, and exclaimed,--\n\n\"They are a pair of excellent girls, Heyward, and such as any one may\nboast of.\"\n\n\"You are not now to learn my opinion of your daughters, Colonel Munro.\"\n\n\"True, lad, true,\" interrupted the impatient old man; \"you were about\nopening your mind more fully on that matter the day you got in; but I\ndid not think it becoming in an old soldier to be talking of nuptial\nblessings and wedding jokes when the enemies of his king were likely to\nbe unbidden guests at the feast! But I was wrong, Duncan, boy, I was\nwrong there; and I am now ready to hear what you have to say.\"\n\n\"Notwithstanding the pleasure your assurance gives me, dear sir, I have\njust now a message from Montcalm--\"\n\n\"Let the Frenchman and all his host go to the devil, sir?\" exclaimed the\nhasty veteran. \"He is not yet master of William Henry, nor shall he ever\nbe, provided Webb proves himself the man he should. No, sir! thank\nHeaven, we are not yet in such a strait that it can be said Munro is too\nmuch pressed to discharge the little domestic duties of his own family.\nYour mother was the only child of my bosom friend, Duncan; and I'll just\ngive you a hearing, though all the knights of St. Louis were in a body\nat the sally-port, with the French saint at their head, craving to speak\na word under favor. A pretty degree of knighthood, sir, is that which\ncan be bought with sugar-hogsheads! and then your two-penny marquisates!\nThe thistle is the order for dignity and antiquity; the veritable _nemo\nme impune lacessit_ of chivalry! Ye had ancestors in that degree,\nDuncan, and they were an ornament to the nobles of Scotland.\"\n\nHeyward, who perceived that his superior took a malicious pleasure in\nexhibiting his contempt for the message of the French general, was fain\nto humor a spleen that he knew would be short-lived; he therefore\nreplied with as much indifference as he could assume on such a\nsubject,--\n\n\"My request, as you know, sir, went so far as to presume to the honor of\nbeing your son.\"\n\n\"Ay, boy, you found words to make yourself very plainly comprehended.\nBut, let me ask ye, sir, have you been as intelligible to the girl?\"\n\n\"On my honor, no,\" exclaimed Duncan, warmly; \"there would have been an\nabuse of a confided trust, had I taken advantage of my situation for\nsuch a purpose.\"\n\n\"Your notions are those of a gentleman, Major Heyward, and well enough\nin their place. But Cora Munro is a maiden too discreet, and of a mind\ntoo elevated and improved, to need the guardianship even of a father.\"\n\n\"Cora!\"\n\n\"Ay--Cora! we are talking of your pretensions to Miss Munro, are we not,\nsir?\"\n\n\"I--I--I was not conscious of having mentioned her name,\" said Duncan,\nstammering.\n\n\"And to marry whom, then, did you wish my consent, Major Heyward?\"\ndemanded the old soldier, erecting himself in the dignity of offended\nfeeling.\n\n\"You have another, and not less lovely child.\"\n\n\"Alice!\" exclaimed the father, in an astonishment equal to that with\nwhich Duncan had just repeated the name of her sister.\n\n\"Such was the direction of my wishes, sir.\"\n\nThe young man awaited in silence the result of the extraordinary effect\nproduced by a communication which, as it now appeared, was so\nunexpected. For several minutes Munro paced the chamber with long and\nrapid strides, his rigid features working convulsively, and every\nfaculty seemingly absorbed in the musings of his own mind. At length, he\npaused directly in front of Heyward, and riveting his eyes upon those of\nthe other, he said, with a lip that quivered violently,--\n\n\"Duncan Heyward, I have loved you for the sake of him whose blood is in\nyour veins; I have loved you for your own good qualities; and I have\nloved you, because I thought you would contribute to the happiness of my\nchild. But all this love would turn to hatred, were I assured that what\nI so much apprehend is true.\"\n\n\"God forbid that any act or thought of mine should lead to such a\nchange!\" exclaimed the young man, whose eye never quailed under the\npenetrating look it encountered. Without adverting the impossibility of\nthe other's comprehending those feelings which were hid in his own\nbosom, Munro suffered himself to be appeased by the unaltered\ncountenance he met, and with a voice sensibly softened, he continued,--\n\n\"You would be my son, Duncan, and you're ignorant of the history of the\nman you wish to call your father. Sit ye down, young man, and I will\nopen to you the wounds of a seared heart, in as few words as may be\nsuitable.\"\n\nBy this time, the message of Montcalm was as much forgotten by him who\nbore it as by the man for whose ears it was intended. Each drew a chair,\nand while the veteran communed a few moments with his own thoughts,\napparently in sadness, the youth suppressed his impatience in a look and\nattitude of respectful attention. At length the former spoke:--\n\n\"You'll know, already, Major Heyward, that my family was both ancient\nand honorable,\" commenced the Scotsman; \"though it might not altogether\nbe endowed with that amount of wealth that should correspond with its\ndegree. I was, may be, such an one as yourself when I plighted my faith\nto Alice Graham, the only child of a neighboring laird of some estate.\nBut the connection was disagreeable to her father, on more accounts than\nmy poverty. I did therefore what an honest man should--restored the\nmaiden her troth, and departed the country in the service of my king. I\nhad seen many regions, and had shed much blood in different lands,\nbefore duty called me to the islands of the West Indies. There it was my\nlot to form a connection with one who in time became my wife, and the\nmother of Cora. She was the daughter of a gentleman of those isles, by a\nlady whose misfortune it was, if you will,\" said the old man, proudly,\n\"to be descended, remotely, from that unfortunate class who are so\nbasely enslaved to administer to the wants of a luxurious people. Ay,\nsir, that is a curse entailed on Scotland by her unnatural union with a\nforeign and trading people. But could I find a man among them who would\ndare to reflect on my child, he should feel the weight of a father's\nanger! Ha! Major Heyward, you are yourself born at the south, where\nthese unfortunate beings are considered of a race inferior to your own.\"\n\n\"'Tis most unfortunately true, sir,\" said Duncan, unable any longer to\nprevent his eyes from sinking to the floor in embarrassment.\n\n\"And you cast it on my child as a reproach! You scorn to mingle the\nblood of the Heywards with one so degraded--lovely and virtuous though\nshe be?\" fiercely demanded the jealous parent.\n\n\"Heaven protect me from a prejudice so unworthy of my reason!\" returned\nDuncan, at the same time conscious of such a feeling, and that as deeply\nrooted as if it had been ingrafted in his nature. \"The sweetness, the\nbeauty, the witchery of your younger daughter, Colonel Munro, might\nexplain my motives, without imputing to me this injustice.\"\n\n\"Ye are right, sir,\" returned the old man, again changing his tones to\nthose of gentleness, or rather softness; \"the girl is the image of what\nher mother was at her years, and before she had become acquainted with\ngrief. When death deprived me of my wife I returned to Scotland,\nenriched by the marriage; and would you think it, Duncan! The suffering\nangel had remained in the heartless state of celibacy twenty long years,\nand that for the sake of a man who could forget her! She did more, sir;\nshe over-looked my want of faith, and all difficulties being now\nremoved, she took me for her husband.\"\n\n\"And became the mother of Alice?\" exclaimed Duncan, with an eagerness\nthat might have proved dangerous at a moment when the thoughts of Munro\nwere less occupied than at present.\n\n\"She did, indeed,\" said the old man, \"and dearly did she pay for the\nblessing she bestowed. But she is a saint in heaven, sir; and it ill\nbecomes one whose foot rests on the grave to mourn a lot so blessed. I\nhad her but a single year, though; a short term of happiness for one who\nhad seen her youth fade in hopeless pining.\"\n\nThere was something so commanding in the distress of the old man, that\nHeyward did not dare to venture a syllable of consolation. Munro sat\nutterly unconscious of the other's presence, his features exposed and\nworking with the anguish of his regrets, while heavy tears fell from his\neyes, and rolled unheeded from his cheeks to the floor. At length he\nmoved, as if suddenly recovering his recollection; when he arose, and\ntaking a single turn across the room, he approached his companion with\nan air of military grandeur, and demanded,--\n\n\"Have you not, Major Heyward, some communication that I should hear from\nthe Marquis de Montcalm?\"\n\nDuncan started, in his turn, and immediately commenced, in an\nembarrassed voice, the half-forgotten message. It is unnecessary to\ndwell upon the evasive, though polite manner, with which the French\ngeneral had eluded every attempt of Heyward to worm from him the purport\nof the communication he had proposed making, or on the decided, though\nstill polished message, by which he now gave his enemy to understand,\nthat unless he chose to receive it in person, he should not receive it\nat all. As Munro listened to the detail of Duncan, the excited feelings\nof the father gradually gave way before the obligations of his station,\nand when the other was done, he saw before him nothing but the veteran,\nswelling with the wounded feelings of a soldier.\n\n\"You have said enough, Major Heyward!\" exclaimed the angry old man:\n\"enough to make a volume of commentary on French civility. Here has this\ngentleman invited me to a conference, and when I send him a capable\nsubstitute, for ye're all that, Duncan, though your years are but few,\nhe answers me with a riddle.\"\n\n\"He may have thought less favorably of the substitute, my dear sir; and\nyou will remember that the invitation, which he now repeats, was to the\ncommandant of the works, and not to his second.\"\n\n\"Well, sir, is not a substitute clothed with all the power and dignity\nof him who grants the commission? He wishes to confer with Munro! Faith,\nsir, I have much inclination to indulge the man, if it should only be to\nlet him behold the firm countenance we maintain in spite of his numbers\nand his summons. There might be no bad policy in such a stroke, young\nman.\"\n\nDuncan, who believed it of the last importance that they should speedily\ncome at the contents of the letter borne by the scout, gladly encouraged\nthis idea.\n\n\"Without doubt, he could gather no confidence by witnessing our\nindifference,\" he said.\n\n\"You never said truer word. I could wish, sir, that he would visit the\nworks in open day, and in the form of a storming party: that is the\nleast failing method of proving the countenance of an enemy, and would\nbe far preferable to the battering system he has chosen. The beauty and\nmanliness of warfare has been much deformed, Major Heyward, by the arts\nof your Monsieur Vauban. Our ancestors were far above such scientific\ncowardice!\"\n\n\"It may be very true, sir; but we are now obliged to repel art by art.\nWhat is your pleasure in the matter of the interview?\"\n\n\"I will meet the Frenchman, and that without fear or delay; promptly;\nsir, as becomes a servant of my royal master. Go, Major Heyward, and\ngive them a flourish of the music; and send out a messenger to let them\nknow who is coming. We will follow with a small guard, for such respect\nis due to one who holds the honor of his king in keeping; and harkee,\nDuncan,\" he added, in a half whisper, though they were alone, \"it may be\nprudent to have some aid at hand, in case there should be treachery at\nthe bottom of it all.\"\n\nThe young man availed himself of this order to quit the apartment; and,\nas the day was fast coming to a close, he hastened, without delay, to\nmake the necessary arrangements. A very few minutes only were necessary\nto parade a few files, and to despatch an orderly with a flag to\nannounce the approach of the commandant of the fort. When Duncan had\ndone both these, he led the guard to the sally-port, near which he found\nhis superior ready, waiting his appearance. As soon as the usual\nceremonials of a military departure were observed, the veteran and his\nmore youthful companion left the fortress, attended by the escort.\n\nThey had proceeded only a hundred yards from the works, when the little\narray which attended the French general to the conference, was seen\nissuing from the hollow way, which formed the bed of a brook that ran\nbetween the batteries of the besiegers and the fort. From the moment\nthat Munro left his own works to appear in front of his enemies, his air\nhad been grand, and his step and countenance highly military. The\ninstant he caught a glimpse of the white plume that waved in the hat of\nMontcalm, his eye lighted, and age no longer appeared to possess any\ninfluence over his vast and still muscular person.\n\n\"Speak to the boys to be watchful, sir,\" he said, in an undertone, to\nDuncan; \"and to look well to their flints and steel, for one is never\nsafe with a servant of these Louises; at the same time, we will show\nthem the front of men in deep security. Ye'll understand me, Major\nHeyward!\"\n\nHe was interrupted by the clamor of a drum from the approaching\nFrenchmen, which was immediately answered, when each party pushed an\norderly in advance, bearing a white flag, and the wary Scotsman halted,\nwith his guard close at his back. As soon as this slight salutation had\npassed, Montcalm moved towards them with a quick but graceful step,\nbaring his head to the veteran, and dropping his spotless plume nearly\nto the earth in courtesy. If the air of Munro was more commanding and\nmanly, it wanted both the ease and insinuating polish of that of the\nFrenchman. Neither spoke for a few moments, each regarding the other\nwith curious and interested eyes. Then, as became his superior rank and\nthe nature of the interview, Montcalm broke the silence. After uttering\nthe usual words of greeting, he turned to Duncan, and continued with a\nsmile of recognition, speaking always in French,--\n\n[Illustration: _Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons_\n\nTHE MEETING OF THE GENERALS\n\n_As soon as this slight salutation had passed, Montcalm moved towards\nthem with a quick but graceful step, baring his head to the veteran, and\ndropping his spotless plume nearly to the earth in courtesy_]\n\n\"I am rejoiced, monsieur, that you have given us the pleasure of your\ncompany on this occasion. There will be no necessity to employ an\nordinary interpreter; for, in your hands, I feel the same security as if\nI spoke your language myself.\"\n\nDuncan acknowledged the compliment, when Montcalm, turning to his guard,\nwhich, in imitation of that of their enemies, pressed close upon him,\ncontinued,--\n\n\"En arriere, mes enfans--il fait chaud; retirez-vous un peu.\"\n\nBefore Major Heyward would imitate this proof of confidence, he glanced\nhis eyes around the plain, and beheld with uneasiness the numerous dusky\ngroups of savages, who looked out from the margin of the surrounding\nwoods, curious spectators of the interview.\n\n\"Monsieur de Montcalm will readily acknowledge the difference in our\nsituation,\" he said, with some embarrassment, pointing at the same time\ntowards those dangerous foes, who were to be seen in almost every\ndirection. \"Were we to dismiss our guard, we should stand here at the\nmercy of our enemies.\"\n\n\"Monsieur, you have the plighted faith of _un gentilhomme Francais_; for\nyour safety,\" returned Montcalm, laying his hand impressively on his\nheart; \"it should suffice.\"\n\n\"It shall. Fall back,\" Duncan added to the officer who led the escort;\n\"fall back, sir, beyond hearing, and wait for orders.\"\n\nMunro witnessed this movement with manifest uneasiness; nor did he fail\nto demand an instant explanation.\n\n\"Is it not our interest, sir, to betray no distrust?\" retorted Duncan.\n\"Monsieur de Montcalm pledges his word for our safety, and I have\nordered the men to withdraw a little, in order to prove how much we\ndepend on his assurance.\"\n\n\"It may be all right, sir, but I have no overweening reliance on the\nfaith of these marquesses, or marquis, as they call themselves. Their\npatents of nobility are too common to be certain that they bear the seal\nof true honor.\"\n\n\"You forget, dear sir, that we confer with an officer distinguished\nalike in Europe and America for his deeds. From a soldier of his\nreputation we can have nothing to apprehend.\"\n\nThe old man made a gesture of resignation, though his rigid features\nstill betrayed his obstinate adherence to a distrust, which he derived\nfrom a sort of hereditary contempt of his enemy, rather than from any\npresent signs which might warrant so uncharitable a feeling. Montcalm\nwaited patiently until this little dialogue in demi-voice was ended,\nwhen he drew nigher, and opened the subject of their conference.\n\n\"I have solicited this interview from your superior, monsieur,\" he said,\n\"because I believe he will allow himself to be persuaded that he has\nalready done everything which is necessary for the honor of his prince,\nand will not listen to the admonitions of humanity. I will forever bear\ntestimony that his resistance has been gallant, and was continued as\nlong as there was hope.\"\n\nWhen this opening was translated to Munro, he answered with dignity, but\nwith sufficient courtesy,--\n\n\"However I may prize such testimony from Monsieur Montcalm, it will be\nmore valuable when it shall be better merited.\"\n\nThe French general smiled, as Duncan gave him the purport of this reply,\nand observed,--\n\n\"What is now so freely accorded to approved courage, may be refused to\nuseless obstinacy. Monsieur would wish to see my camp, and witness, for\nhimself, our numbers, and the impossibility of his resisting them, with\nsuccess?\"\n\n\"I know that the king of France is well served,\" returned the unmoved\nScotsman, as soon as Duncan ended his translation; \"but my own royal\nmaster has as many and as faithful troops.\"\n\n\"Though not at hand, fortunately for us,\" said Montcalm, without\nwaiting, in his ardor, for the interpreter. \"There is a destiny in war,\nto which a brave man knows how to submit, with the same courage that he\nfaces his foes.\"\n\n\"Had I been conscious that Monsieur Montcalm was master of the English,\nI should have spared myself the trouble of so awkward a translation,\"\nsaid the vexed Duncan, dryly; remembering instantly his recent by-play\nwith Munro.\n\n\"Your pardon, monsieur,\" rejoined the Frenchman, suffering a slight\ncolor to appear on his dark cheek. \"There is a vast difference between\nunderstanding and speaking a foreign tongue; you will, therefore, please\nto assist me still.\" Then after a short pause, he added, \"These hills\nafford us every opportunity of reconnoitring your works, messieurs, and\nI am possibly as well acquainted with their weak condition as you can be\nyourselves.\"\n\n\"Ask the French general if his glasses can reach to the Hudson,\" said\nMunro, proudly; \"and if he knows when and where to expect the army of\nWebb.\"\n\n\"Let General Webb be his own interpreter,\" returned the politic\nMontcalm, suddenly extending an open letter towards Munro, as he spoke;\n\"you will there learn, monsieur, that his movements are not likely to\nprove embarrassing to my army.\"\n\nThe veteran seized the offered paper, without waiting for Duncan to\ntranslate the speech, and with an eagerness that betrayed how important\nhe deemed its contents. As his eye passed hastily over the words, his\ncountenance changed from its look of military pride to one of deep\nchagrin: his lip began to quiver; and, suffering the paper to fall from\nhis hand, his head dropped upon his chest, like that of a man whose\nhopes were withered at a single blow. Duncan caught the letter from the\nground, and without apology for the liberty he took, he read at a glance\nits cruel purport. Their common superior, so far from encouraging them\nto resist, advised a speedy surrender, urging in the plainest language\nas a reason, the utter impossibility of his sending a single man to\ntheir rescue.\n\n\"Here is no deception!\" exclaimed Duncan, examining the billet both\ninside and out; \"this is the signature of Webb, and must be the captured\nletter.\"\n\n\"The man has betrayed me!\" Munro at length bitterly exclaimed: \"he has\nbrought dishonor to the door of one where disgrace was never before\nknown to dwell, and shame has he heaped heavily on my gray hairs.\"\n\n\"Say not so,\" cried Duncan; \"we are yet masters of the fort, and of our\nhonor. Let us then sell our lives at such a rate as shall make our\nenemies believe the purchase too dear.\"\n\n\"Boy, I thank thee,\" exclaimed the old man, rousing himself from his\nstupor; \"you have, for once, reminded Munro of his duty. We will go\nback, and dig our graves behind those ramparts.\"\n\n\"Messieurs,\" said Montcalm, advancing towards them a step, in generous\ninterest, \"you little know Louis de St. Veran, if you believe him\ncapable of profiting by this letter to humble brave men, or to build up\na dishonest reputation for himself. Listen to my terms before you leave\nme.\"\n\n\"What says the Frenchman?\" demanded the veteran, sternly; \"does he make\na merit of having captured a scout, with a note from headquarters? Sir,\nhe had better raise this siege, to go and sit down before Edward if he\nwishes to frighten his enemy with words.\"\n\nDuncan explained the other's meaning.\n\n\"Monsieur de Montcalm, we will hear you,\" the veteran added, more calmly,\nas Duncan ended.\n\n\"To retain the fort is now impossible,\" said his liberal enemy; \"it is\nnecessary to the interests of my master that it should be destroyed;\nbut, as for yourselves, and your brave comrades, there is no privilege\ndear to a soldier that shall be denied.\"\n\n\"Our colors?\" demanded Heyward.\n\n\"Carry them to England, and show them to your king.\"\n\n\"Our arms?\"\n\n\"Keep them; none can use them better.\"\n\n\"Our march; the surrender of the place?\"\n\n\"Shall all be done in a way most honorable to yourselves.\"\n\nDuncan now turned to explain these proposals to his commander, who heard\nhim with amazement, and a sensibility that was deeply touched by such\nunusual and unexpected generosity.\n\n\"Go you, Duncan,\" he said; \"go with this marquess, as indeed marquess he\nshould be; go to his marquee and arrange it all. I have lived to see two\nthings in my old age, that never did I expect to behold. An Englishman\nafraid to support a friend, and a Frenchman too honest to profit by his\nadvantage.\"\n\nSo saying, the veteran again dropped his head to his chest, and returned\nslowly towards the fort, exhibiting, by the dejection of his air, to the\nanxious garrison, a harbinger of evil tidings.\n\nFrom the shock of this unexpected blow the haughty feelings of Munro\nnever recovered; but from that moment there commenced a change in his\ndetermined character, which accompanied him to a speedy grave. Duncan\nremained to settle the terms of the capitulation. He was seen to\nre-enter the works during the first watches of the night, and\nimmediately after a private conference with the commandant, to leave\nthem again, It was then openly announced, that hostilities must\ncease--Munro having signed a treaty, by which the place was to be\nyielded to the enemy, with the morning; the garrison to retain their\narms, their colors, and their baggage, and consequently, according to\nmilitary opinion, their honor.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?\nA: Heyward goes to find Munro, planning to report Montcalm's message that the English should surrender. He finds Munro idling with his daughters. To Heyward's surprise, Munro seems uninterested in Montcalm's proposal. He accuses Heyward of racism for preferring Alice to Cora. Munro reveals that Cora and Alice have different mothers. Cora's mother, Munro's first wife, was from the West Indies and was part \"Negro. When Munro's first wife died, he returned to Scotland and married his childhood sweetheart. Heyward heartily denies that he thinks less of Cora because of her mixed race, but silently he admits his racism. Munro and Heyward return to the French encampment to meet with Montcalm, who hands over Webb's letter advising Munro to surrender the fort to the French. Montcalm tells Munro that if the English surrender, they will get to keep their arms, baggage, and colors, and the French will ensure that the Indians do not attack them. Munro accepts the offer and leaves Heyward to finalize the details\n\n","prompt":"Chapter: \"_Edg._--Before you fight the battle, ope this letter.\"\n\n  _King Lear._\n\n\nMajor Heyward found Munro attended only by his daughters. Alice sat upon\nhis knee, parting the gray hairs on the forehead of the old man with her\ndelicate fingers; and, whenever he affected to frown on her trifling,\nappeasing his assumed anger by pressing her ruby lips fondly on his\nwrinkled brow. Cora was seated nigh them, a calm and amused looker-on;\nregarding the wayward movements of her more youthful sister, with that\nspecies of maternal fondness which characterized her love for Alice. Not\nonly the dangers through which they had passed, but those which still\nimpended above them, appeared to be momentarily forgotten, in the\nsoothing indulgence of such a family meeting. It seemed as if they had\nprofited by the short truce, to devote an instant to the purest and best\naffections: the daughters forgetting their fears, and the veteran his\ncares, in the security of the moment. Of this scene, Duncan, who in his\neagerness to report his arrival had entered unannounced, stood many\nmoments an unobserved and a delighted spectator. But the quick and\ndancing eyes of Alice soon caught a glimpse of his figure reflected from\na glass, and she sprang blushing from her father's knee, exclaiming\naloud,--\n\n\"Major Heyward!\"\n\n\"What of the lad?\" demanded the father; \"I have sent him to crack a\nlittle with the Frenchman. Ha! sir, you are young, and you're nimble!\nAway with you, ye baggage; as if there were not troubles enough for a\nsoldier, without having his camp filled with such prattling hussies as\nyourself!\"\n\nAlice laughingly followed her sister, who instantly led the way from an\napartment where she perceived their presence was no longer desirable.\nMunro, instead of demanding the result of the young man's mission, paced\nthe room for a few moments, with his hands behind his back, and his head\ninclined towards the floor, like a man lost in thought. At length he\nraised his eyes, glistening with a father's fondness, and exclaimed,--\n\n\"They are a pair of excellent girls, Heyward, and such as any one may\nboast of.\"\n\n\"You are not now to learn my opinion of your daughters, Colonel Munro.\"\n\n\"True, lad, true,\" interrupted the impatient old man; \"you were about\nopening your mind more fully on that matter the day you got in; but I\ndid not think it becoming in an old soldier to be talking of nuptial\nblessings and wedding jokes when the enemies of his king were likely to\nbe unbidden guests at the feast! But I was wrong, Duncan, boy, I was\nwrong there; and I am now ready to hear what you have to say.\"\n\n\"Notwithstanding the pleasure your assurance gives me, dear sir, I have\njust now a message from Montcalm--\"\n\n\"Let the Frenchman and all his host go to the devil, sir?\" exclaimed the\nhasty veteran. \"He is not yet master of William Henry, nor shall he ever\nbe, provided Webb proves himself the man he should. No, sir! thank\nHeaven, we are not yet in such a strait that it can be said Munro is too\nmuch pressed to discharge the little domestic duties of his own family.\nYour mother was the only child of my bosom friend, Duncan; and I'll just\ngive you a hearing, though all the knights of St. Louis were in a body\nat the sally-port, with the French saint at their head, craving to speak\na word under favor. A pretty degree of knighthood, sir, is that which\ncan be bought with sugar-hogsheads! and then your two-penny marquisates!\nThe thistle is the order for dignity and antiquity; the veritable _nemo\nme impune lacessit_ of chivalry! Ye had ancestors in that degree,\nDuncan, and they were an ornament to the nobles of Scotland.\"\n\nHeyward, who perceived that his superior took a malicious pleasure in\nexhibiting his contempt for the message of the French general, was fain\nto humor a spleen that he knew would be short-lived; he therefore\nreplied with as much indifference as he could assume on such a\nsubject,--\n\n\"My request, as you know, sir, went so far as to presume to the honor of\nbeing your son.\"\n\n\"Ay, boy, you found words to make yourself very plainly comprehended.\nBut, let me ask ye, sir, have you been as intelligible to the girl?\"\n\n\"On my honor, no,\" exclaimed Duncan, warmly; \"there would have been an\nabuse of a confided trust, had I taken advantage of my situation for\nsuch a purpose.\"\n\n\"Your notions are those of a gentleman, Major Heyward, and well enough\nin their place. But Cora Munro is a maiden too discreet, and of a mind\ntoo elevated and improved, to need the guardianship even of a father.\"\n\n\"Cora!\"\n\n\"Ay--Cora! we are talking of your pretensions to Miss Munro, are we not,\nsir?\"\n\n\"I--I--I was not conscious of having mentioned her name,\" said Duncan,\nstammering.\n\n\"And to marry whom, then, did you wish my consent, Major Heyward?\"\ndemanded the old soldier, erecting himself in the dignity of offended\nfeeling.\n\n\"You have another, and not less lovely child.\"\n\n\"Alice!\" exclaimed the father, in an astonishment equal to that with\nwhich Duncan had just repeated the name of her sister.\n\n\"Such was the direction of my wishes, sir.\"\n\nThe young man awaited in silence the result of the extraordinary effect\nproduced by a communication which, as it now appeared, was so\nunexpected. For several minutes Munro paced the chamber with long and\nrapid strides, his rigid features working convulsively, and every\nfaculty seemingly absorbed in the musings of his own mind. At length, he\npaused directly in front of Heyward, and riveting his eyes upon those of\nthe other, he said, with a lip that quivered violently,--\n\n\"Duncan Heyward, I have loved you for the sake of him whose blood is in\nyour veins; I have loved you for your own good qualities; and I have\nloved you, because I thought you would contribute to the happiness of my\nchild. But all this love would turn to hatred, were I assured that what\nI so much apprehend is true.\"\n\n\"God forbid that any act or thought of mine should lead to such a\nchange!\" exclaimed the young man, whose eye never quailed under the\npenetrating look it encountered. Without adverting the impossibility of\nthe other's comprehending those feelings which were hid in his own\nbosom, Munro suffered himself to be appeased by the unaltered\ncountenance he met, and with a voice sensibly softened, he continued,--\n\n\"You would be my son, Duncan, and you're ignorant of the history of the\nman you wish to call your father. Sit ye down, young man, and I will\nopen to you the wounds of a seared heart, in as few words as may be\nsuitable.\"\n\nBy this time, the message of Montcalm was as much forgotten by him who\nbore it as by the man for whose ears it was intended. Each drew a chair,\nand while the veteran communed a few moments with his own thoughts,\napparently in sadness, the youth suppressed his impatience in a look and\nattitude of respectful attention. At length the former spoke:--\n\n\"You'll know, already, Major Heyward, that my family was both ancient\nand honorable,\" commenced the Scotsman; \"though it might not altogether\nbe endowed with that amount of wealth that should correspond with its\ndegree. I was, may be, such an one as yourself when I plighted my faith\nto Alice Graham, the only child of a neighboring laird of some estate.\nBut the connection was disagreeable to her father, on more accounts than\nmy poverty. I did therefore what an honest man should--restored the\nmaiden her troth, and departed the country in the service of my king. I\nhad seen many regions, and had shed much blood in different lands,\nbefore duty called me to the islands of the West Indies. There it was my\nlot to form a connection with one who in time became my wife, and the\nmother of Cora. She was the daughter of a gentleman of those isles, by a\nlady whose misfortune it was, if you will,\" said the old man, proudly,\n\"to be descended, remotely, from that unfortunate class who are so\nbasely enslaved to administer to the wants of a luxurious people. Ay,\nsir, that is a curse entailed on Scotland by her unnatural union with a\nforeign and trading people. But could I find a man among them who would\ndare to reflect on my child, he should feel the weight of a father's\nanger! Ha! Major Heyward, you are yourself born at the south, where\nthese unfortunate beings are considered of a race inferior to your own.\"\n\n\"'Tis most unfortunately true, sir,\" said Duncan, unable any longer to\nprevent his eyes from sinking to the floor in embarrassment.\n\n\"And you cast it on my child as a reproach! You scorn to mingle the\nblood of the Heywards with one so degraded--lovely and virtuous though\nshe be?\" fiercely demanded the jealous parent.\n\n\"Heaven protect me from a prejudice so unworthy of my reason!\" returned\nDuncan, at the same time conscious of such a feeling, and that as deeply\nrooted as if it had been ingrafted in his nature. \"The sweetness, the\nbeauty, the witchery of your younger daughter, Colonel Munro, might\nexplain my motives, without imputing to me this injustice.\"\n\n\"Ye are right, sir,\" returned the old man, again changing his tones to\nthose of gentleness, or rather softness; \"the girl is the image of what\nher mother was at her years, and before she had become acquainted with\ngrief. When death deprived me of my wife I returned to Scotland,\nenriched by the marriage; and would you think it, Duncan! The suffering\nangel had remained in the heartless state of celibacy twenty long years,\nand that for the sake of a man who could forget her! She did more, sir;\nshe over-looked my want of faith, and all difficulties being now\nremoved, she took me for her husband.\"\n\n\"And became the mother of Alice?\" exclaimed Duncan, with an eagerness\nthat might have proved dangerous at a moment when the thoughts of Munro\nwere less occupied than at present.\n\n\"She did, indeed,\" said the old man, \"and dearly did she pay for the\nblessing she bestowed. But she is a saint in heaven, sir; and it ill\nbecomes one whose foot rests on the grave to mourn a lot so blessed. I\nhad her but a single year, though; a short term of happiness for one who\nhad seen her youth fade in hopeless pining.\"\n\nThere was something so commanding in the distress of the old man, that\nHeyward did not dare to venture a syllable of consolation. Munro sat\nutterly unconscious of the other's presence, his features exposed and\nworking with the anguish of his regrets, while heavy tears fell from his\neyes, and rolled unheeded from his cheeks to the floor. At length he\nmoved, as if suddenly recovering his recollection; when he arose, and\ntaking a single turn across the room, he approached his companion with\nan air of military grandeur, and demanded,--\n\n\"Have you not, Major Heyward, some communication that I should hear from\nthe Marquis de Montcalm?\"\n\nDuncan started, in his turn, and immediately commenced, in an\nembarrassed voice, the half-forgotten message. It is unnecessary to\ndwell upon the evasive, though polite manner, with which the French\ngeneral had eluded every attempt of Heyward to worm from him the purport\nof the communication he had proposed making, or on the decided, though\nstill polished message, by which he now gave his enemy to understand,\nthat unless he chose to receive it in person, he should not receive it\nat all. As Munro listened to the detail of Duncan, the excited feelings\nof the father gradually gave way before the obligations of his station,\nand when the other was done, he saw before him nothing but the veteran,\nswelling with the wounded feelings of a soldier.\n\n\"You have said enough, Major Heyward!\" exclaimed the angry old man:\n\"enough to make a volume of commentary on French civility. Here has this\ngentleman invited me to a conference, and when I send him a capable\nsubstitute, for ye're all that, Duncan, though your years are but few,\nhe answers me with a riddle.\"\n\n\"He may have thought less favorably of the substitute, my dear sir; and\nyou will remember that the invitation, which he now repeats, was to the\ncommandant of the works, and not to his second.\"\n\n\"Well, sir, is not a substitute clothed with all the power and dignity\nof him who grants the commission? He wishes to confer with Munro! Faith,\nsir, I have much inclination to indulge the man, if it should only be to\nlet him behold the firm countenance we maintain in spite of his numbers\nand his summons. There might be no bad policy in such a stroke, young\nman.\"\n\nDuncan, who believed it of the last importance that they should speedily\ncome at the contents of the letter borne by the scout, gladly encouraged\nthis idea.\n\n\"Without doubt, he could gather no confidence by witnessing our\nindifference,\" he said.\n\n\"You never said truer word. I could wish, sir, that he would visit the\nworks in open day, and in the form of a storming party: that is the\nleast failing method of proving the countenance of an enemy, and would\nbe far preferable to the battering system he has chosen. The beauty and\nmanliness of warfare has been much deformed, Major Heyward, by the arts\nof your Monsieur Vauban. Our ancestors were far above such scientific\ncowardice!\"\n\n\"It may be very true, sir; but we are now obliged to repel art by art.\nWhat is your pleasure in the matter of the interview?\"\n\n\"I will meet the Frenchman, and that without fear or delay; promptly;\nsir, as becomes a servant of my royal master. Go, Major Heyward, and\ngive them a flourish of the music; and send out a messenger to let them\nknow who is coming. We will follow with a small guard, for such respect\nis due to one who holds the honor of his king in keeping; and harkee,\nDuncan,\" he added, in a half whisper, though they were alone, \"it may be\nprudent to have some aid at hand, in case there should be treachery at\nthe bottom of it all.\"\n\nThe young man availed himself of this order to quit the apartment; and,\nas the day was fast coming to a close, he hastened, without delay, to\nmake the necessary arrangements. A very few minutes only were necessary\nto parade a few files, and to despatch an orderly with a flag to\nannounce the approach of the commandant of the fort. When Duncan had\ndone both these, he led the guard to the sally-port, near which he found\nhis superior ready, waiting his appearance. As soon as the usual\nceremonials of a military departure were observed, the veteran and his\nmore youthful companion left the fortress, attended by the escort.\n\nThey had proceeded only a hundred yards from the works, when the little\narray which attended the French general to the conference, was seen\nissuing from the hollow way, which formed the bed of a brook that ran\nbetween the batteries of the besiegers and the fort. From the moment\nthat Munro left his own works to appear in front of his enemies, his air\nhad been grand, and his step and countenance highly military. The\ninstant he caught a glimpse of the white plume that waved in the hat of\nMontcalm, his eye lighted, and age no longer appeared to possess any\ninfluence over his vast and still muscular person.\n\n\"Speak to the boys to be watchful, sir,\" he said, in an undertone, to\nDuncan; \"and to look well to their flints and steel, for one is never\nsafe with a servant of these Louises; at the same time, we will show\nthem the front of men in deep security. Ye'll understand me, Major\nHeyward!\"\n\nHe was interrupted by the clamor of a drum from the approaching\nFrenchmen, which was immediately answered, when each party pushed an\norderly in advance, bearing a white flag, and the wary Scotsman halted,\nwith his guard close at his back. As soon as this slight salutation had\npassed, Montcalm moved towards them with a quick but graceful step,\nbaring his head to the veteran, and dropping his spotless plume nearly\nto the earth in courtesy. If the air of Munro was more commanding and\nmanly, it wanted both the ease and insinuating polish of that of the\nFrenchman. Neither spoke for a few moments, each regarding the other\nwith curious and interested eyes. Then, as became his superior rank and\nthe nature of the interview, Montcalm broke the silence. After uttering\nthe usual words of greeting, he turned to Duncan, and continued with a\nsmile of recognition, speaking always in French,--\n\n[Illustration: _Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons_\n\nTHE MEETING OF THE GENERALS\n\n_As soon as this slight salutation had passed, Montcalm moved towards\nthem with a quick but graceful step, baring his head to the veteran, and\ndropping his spotless plume nearly to the earth in courtesy_]\n\n\"I am rejoiced, monsieur, that you have given us the pleasure of your\ncompany on this occasion. There will be no necessity to employ an\nordinary interpreter; for, in your hands, I feel the same security as if\nI spoke your language myself.\"\n\nDuncan acknowledged the compliment, when Montcalm, turning to his guard,\nwhich, in imitation of that of their enemies, pressed close upon him,\ncontinued,--\n\n\"En arriere, mes enfans--il fait chaud; retirez-vous un peu.\"\n\nBefore Major Heyward would imitate this proof of confidence, he glanced\nhis eyes around the plain, and beheld with uneasiness the numerous dusky\ngroups of savages, who looked out from the margin of the surrounding\nwoods, curious spectators of the interview.\n\n\"Monsieur de Montcalm will readily acknowledge the difference in our\nsituation,\" he said, with some embarrassment, pointing at the same time\ntowards those dangerous foes, who were to be seen in almost every\ndirection. \"Were we to dismiss our guard, we should stand here at the\nmercy of our enemies.\"\n\n\"Monsieur, you have the plighted faith of _un gentilhomme Francais_; for\nyour safety,\" returned Montcalm, laying his hand impressively on his\nheart; \"it should suffice.\"\n\n\"It shall. Fall back,\" Duncan added to the officer who led the escort;\n\"fall back, sir, beyond hearing, and wait for orders.\"\n\nMunro witnessed this movement with manifest uneasiness; nor did he fail\nto demand an instant explanation.\n\n\"Is it not our interest, sir, to betray no distrust?\" retorted Duncan.\n\"Monsieur de Montcalm pledges his word for our safety, and I have\nordered the men to withdraw a little, in order to prove how much we\ndepend on his assurance.\"\n\n\"It may be all right, sir, but I have no overweening reliance on the\nfaith of these marquesses, or marquis, as they call themselves. Their\npatents of nobility are too common to be certain that they bear the seal\nof true honor.\"\n\n\"You forget, dear sir, that we confer with an officer distinguished\nalike in Europe and America for his deeds. From a soldier of his\nreputation we can have nothing to apprehend.\"\n\nThe old man made a gesture of resignation, though his rigid features\nstill betrayed his obstinate adherence to a distrust, which he derived\nfrom a sort of hereditary contempt of his enemy, rather than from any\npresent signs which might warrant so uncharitable a feeling. Montcalm\nwaited patiently until this little dialogue in demi-voice was ended,\nwhen he drew nigher, and opened the subject of their conference.\n\n\"I have solicited this interview from your superior, monsieur,\" he said,\n\"because I believe he will allow himself to be persuaded that he has\nalready done everything which is necessary for the honor of his prince,\nand will not listen to the admonitions of humanity. I will forever bear\ntestimony that his resistance has been gallant, and was continued as\nlong as there was hope.\"\n\nWhen this opening was translated to Munro, he answered with dignity, but\nwith sufficient courtesy,--\n\n\"However I may prize such testimony from Monsieur Montcalm, it will be\nmore valuable when it shall be better merited.\"\n\nThe French general smiled, as Duncan gave him the purport of this reply,\nand observed,--\n\n\"What is now so freely accorded to approved courage, may be refused to\nuseless obstinacy. Monsieur would wish to see my camp, and witness, for\nhimself, our numbers, and the impossibility of his resisting them, with\nsuccess?\"\n\n\"I know that the king of France is well served,\" returned the unmoved\nScotsman, as soon as Duncan ended his translation; \"but my own royal\nmaster has as many and as faithful troops.\"\n\n\"Though not at hand, fortunately for us,\" said Montcalm, without\nwaiting, in his ardor, for the interpreter. \"There is a destiny in war,\nto which a brave man knows how to submit, with the same courage that he\nfaces his foes.\"\n\n\"Had I been conscious that Monsieur Montcalm was master of the English,\nI should have spared myself the trouble of so awkward a translation,\"\nsaid the vexed Duncan, dryly; remembering instantly his recent by-play\nwith Munro.\n\n\"Your pardon, monsieur,\" rejoined the Frenchman, suffering a slight\ncolor to appear on his dark cheek. \"There is a vast difference between\nunderstanding and speaking a foreign tongue; you will, therefore, please\nto assist me still.\" Then after a short pause, he added, \"These hills\nafford us every opportunity of reconnoitring your works, messieurs, and\nI am possibly as well acquainted with their weak condition as you can be\nyourselves.\"\n\n\"Ask the French general if his glasses can reach to the Hudson,\" said\nMunro, proudly; \"and if he knows when and where to expect the army of\nWebb.\"\n\n\"Let General Webb be his own interpreter,\" returned the politic\nMontcalm, suddenly extending an open letter towards Munro, as he spoke;\n\"you will there learn, monsieur, that his movements are not likely to\nprove embarrassing to my army.\"\n\nThe veteran seized the offered paper, without waiting for Duncan to\ntranslate the speech, and with an eagerness that betrayed how important\nhe deemed its contents. As his eye passed hastily over the words, his\ncountenance changed from its look of military pride to one of deep\nchagrin: his lip began to quiver; and, suffering the paper to fall from\nhis hand, his head dropped upon his chest, like that of a man whose\nhopes were withered at a single blow. Duncan caught the letter from the\nground, and without apology for the liberty he took, he read at a glance\nits cruel purport. Their common superior, so far from encouraging them\nto resist, advised a speedy surrender, urging in the plainest language\nas a reason, the utter impossibility of his sending a single man to\ntheir rescue.\n\n\"Here is no deception!\" exclaimed Duncan, examining the billet both\ninside and out; \"this is the signature of Webb, and must be the captured\nletter.\"\n\n\"The man has betrayed me!\" Munro at length bitterly exclaimed: \"he has\nbrought dishonor to the door of one where disgrace was never before\nknown to dwell, and shame has he heaped heavily on my gray hairs.\"\n\n\"Say not so,\" cried Duncan; \"we are yet masters of the fort, and of our\nhonor. Let us then sell our lives at such a rate as shall make our\nenemies believe the purchase too dear.\"\n\n\"Boy, I thank thee,\" exclaimed the old man, rousing himself from his\nstupor; \"you have, for once, reminded Munro of his duty. We will go\nback, and dig our graves behind those ramparts.\"\n\n\"Messieurs,\" said Montcalm, advancing towards them a step, in generous\ninterest, \"you little know Louis de St. Veran, if you believe him\ncapable of profiting by this letter to humble brave men, or to build up\na dishonest reputation for himself. Listen to my terms before you leave\nme.\"\n\n\"What says the Frenchman?\" demanded the veteran, sternly; \"does he make\na merit of having captured a scout, with a note from headquarters? Sir,\nhe had better raise this siege, to go and sit down before Edward if he\nwishes to frighten his enemy with words.\"\n\nDuncan explained the other's meaning.\n\n\"Monsieur de Montcalm, we will hear you,\" the veteran added, more calmly,\nas Duncan ended.\n\n\"To retain the fort is now impossible,\" said his liberal enemy; \"it is\nnecessary to the interests of my master that it should be destroyed;\nbut, as for yourselves, and your brave comrades, there is no privilege\ndear to a soldier that shall be denied.\"\n\n\"Our colors?\" demanded Heyward.\n\n\"Carry them to England, and show them to your king.\"\n\n\"Our arms?\"\n\n\"Keep them; none can use them better.\"\n\n\"Our march; the surrender of the place?\"\n\n\"Shall all be done in a way most honorable to yourselves.\"\n\nDuncan now turned to explain these proposals to his commander, who heard\nhim with amazement, and a sensibility that was deeply touched by such\nunusual and unexpected generosity.\n\n\"Go you, Duncan,\" he said; \"go with this marquess, as indeed marquess he\nshould be; go to his marquee and arrange it all. I have lived to see two\nthings in my old age, that never did I expect to behold. An Englishman\nafraid to support a friend, and a Frenchman too honest to profit by his\nadvantage.\"\n\nSo saying, the veteran again dropped his head to his chest, and returned\nslowly towards the fort, exhibiting, by the dejection of his air, to the\nanxious garrison, a harbinger of evil tidings.\n\nFrom the shock of this unexpected blow the haughty feelings of Munro\nnever recovered; but from that moment there commenced a change in his\ndetermined character, which accompanied him to a speedy grave. Duncan\nremained to settle the terms of the capitulation. He was seen to\nre-enter the works during the first watches of the night, and\nimmediately after a private conference with the commandant, to leave\nthem again, It was then openly announced, that hostilities must\ncease--Munro having signed a treaty, by which the place was to be\nyielded to the enemy, with the morning; the garrison to retain their\narms, their colors, and their baggage, and consequently, according to\nmilitary opinion, their honor.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?\nA:","completion":" Heyward goes to find Munro, planning to report Montcalm's message that the English should surrender. He finds Munro idling with his daughters. To Heyward's surprise, Munro seems uninterested in Montcalm's proposal. He accuses Heyward of racism for preferring Alice to Cora. Munro reveals that Cora and Alice have different mothers. Cora's mother, Munro's first wife, was from the West Indies and was part \"Negro. When Munro's first wife died, he returned to Scotland and married his childhood sweetheart. Heyward heartily denies that he thinks less of Cora because of her mixed race, but silently he admits his racism. Munro and Heyward return to the French encampment to meet with Montcalm, who hands over Webb's letter advising Munro to surrender the fort to the French. Montcalm tells Munro that if the English surrender, they will get to keep their arms, baggage, and colors, and the French will ensure that the Indians do not attack them. Munro accepts the offer and leaves Heyward to finalize the details\n\n"},"truncated_cells":[]},{"row_idx":41,"row":{"text":"Chapter: \"Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.\n  The web is wove. The work is done.\"\n\n  GRAY.\n\n\nThe hostile armies, which lay in the wilds of the Horican, passed the\nnight of the 9th of August, 1757, much in the manner they would had they\nencountered on the fairest fields of Europe. While the conquered were\nstill, sullen, and dejected, the victors triumphed. But there are limits\nalike to grief and joy; and long before the watches of the morning came,\nthe stillness of those boundless woods was only broken by a gay call\nfrom some exulting young Frenchman of the advanced pickets, or a\nmenacing challenge from the fort, which sternly forbade the approach of\nany hostile footsteps before the stipulated moment. Even these\noccasional threatening sounds ceased to be heard in that dull hour which\nprecedes the day, at which period a listener might have sought in vain\nany evidence of the presence of those armed powers that then slumbered\non the shores of the \"holy lake.\"\n\nIt was during these moments of deep silence, that the canvas which\nconcealed the entrance to a spacious marquee in the French encampment\nwas shoved aside, and a man issued from beneath the drapery into the\nopen air. He was enveloped in a cloak that might have been intended as a\nprotection from the chilling damps of the woods, but which served\nequally well as a mantle, to conceal his person. He was permitted to\npass the grenadier, who watched over the slumbers of the French\ncommander, without interruption, the man making the usual salute which\nbetokens military deference, as the other passed swiftly through the\nlittle city of tents, in the direction of William Henry. Whenever this\nunknown individual encountered one of the numberless sentinels who\ncrossed his path, his answer was prompt, and as it appeared\nsatisfactory; for he was uniformly allowed to proceed, without further\ninterrogation.\n\nWith the exception of such repeated, but brief interruptions, he had\nmoved, silently, from the centre of the camp, to its most advanced\noutposts, when he drew nigh the soldier who held his watch nearest to\nthe works of the enemy. As he approached he was received with the usual\nchallenge,--\n\n\"Qui vive?\"\n\n\"France,\" was the reply.\n\n\"Le mot d'ordre?\"\n\n\"La victoire,\" said the other, drawing so nigh as to be heard in a loud\nwhisper.\n\n\"C'est bien,\" returned the sentinel, throwing his musket from the charge\nto his shoulder; \"vous vous promenez bien matin, monsieur!\"\n\n\"Il est necessaire d'etre vigilant, mon enfant,\" the other observed,\ndropping a fold of his cloak, and looking the soldier close in the face,\nas he passed him, still continuing his way towards the British\nfortification. The man started; his arms rattled heavily, as he threw\nthem forward, in the lowest and most respectful salute; and when he had\nagain recovered his piece, he turned to walk his post, muttering between\nhis teeth,--\n\n\"Il faut etre vigilant, en verite! je crois que nous avons la, un\ncaporal qui ne dort jamais!\"\n\nThe officer proceeded, without affecting to hear the words which escaped\nthe sentinel in his surprise; nor did he again pause until he had\nreached the low strand, and in a somewhat dangerous vicinity to the\nwestern water bastion of the fort. The light of an obscure moon was just\nsufficient to render objects, though dim, perceptible in their outlines.\nHe, therefore, took the precaution to place himself against the trunk of\na tree, where he leaned for many minutes, and seemed to contemplate the\ndark and silent mounds of the English works in profound attention. His\ngaze at the ramparts was not that of a curious or idle spectator; but\nhis looks wandered from point to point, denoting his knowledge of\nmilitary usages, and betraying that his search was not unaccompanied by\ndistrust. At length he appeared satisfied; and having cast his eyes\nimpatiently upwards towards the summit of the eastern mountain, as if\nanticipating the approach of the morning, he was in the act of turning\non his footsteps, when a light sound on the nearest angle of the bastion\ncaught his ear, and induced him to remain.\n\nJust then a figure was seen to approach the edge of the rampart, where\nit stood, apparently contemplating in its turn the distant tents of the\nFrench encampment. Its head was then turned towards the east, as though\nequally anxious for the appearance of light, when the form leaned\nagainst the mound, and seemed to gaze upon the glassy expanse of the\nwaters, which, like a submarine firmament, glittered with its thousand\nmimic stars. The melancholy air, the hour, together with the vast frame\nof the man who thus leaned, in musing, against the English ramparts,\nleft no doubt as to his person, in the mind of his observant spectator.\nDelicacy, no less than prudence, now urged him to retire; and he had\nmoved cautiously round the body of the tree for that purpose, when\nanother sound drew his attention, and once more arrested his footsteps.\nIt was a low and almost inaudible movement of the water, and was\nsucceeded by a grating of pebbles one against the other. In a moment he\nsaw a dark form rise, as it were out of the lake, and steal without\nfurther noise to the land, within a few feet of the place where he\nhimself stood. A rifle next slowly rose between his eyes and the watery\nmirror; but before it could be discharged his own hand was on the lock.\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed the savage, whose treacherous aim was so singularly\nand so unexpectedly interrupted.\n\nWithout making any reply, the French officer laid his hand on the\nshoulder of the Indian, and led him in profound silence to a distance\nfrom the spot, where their subsequent dialogue might have proved\ndangerous, and where it seemed that one of them, at least, sought a\nvictim. Then, throwing open his cloak, so as to expose his uniform and\nthe cross of St. Louis which was suspended at his breast, Montcalm\nsternly demanded,--\n\n\"What means this! Does not my son know that the hatchet is buried\nbetween the English and his Canadian Father?\"\n\n\"What can the Hurons do?\" returned the savage, speaking also, though\nimperfectly, in the French language. \"Not a warrior has a scalp, and the\npale-faces make friends!\"\n\n\"Ha! Le Renard Subtil! Methinks this is an excess of zeal for a friend\nwho was so late an enemy! How many suns have set since Le Renard struck\nthe war-post of the English?\"\n\n\"Where is that sun!\" demanded the sullen savage. \"Behind the hill; and\nit is dark and cold. But when he comes again, it will be bright and\nwarm. Le Subtil is the sun of his tribe. There have been clouds, and\nmany mountains between him and his nation; but now he shines, and it is\na clear sky!\"\n\n\"That Le Renard has power with his people, I well know,\" said Montcalm;\n\"for yesterday he hunted for their scalps, and to-day they hear him at\nthe council-fire.\"\n\n\"Magua is a great chief.\"\n\n\"Let him prove it, by teaching his nation how to conduct itself towards\nour new friends.\"\n\n\"Why did the chief of the Canadas bring his young men into the woods,\nand fire his cannon at the earthen house?\" demanded the subtle Indian.\n\n\"To subdue it. My master owns the land, and your father has been ordered\nto drive off these English squatters. They have consented to go, and now\nhe calls them enemies no longer.\"\n\n\"'Tis well. Magua took the hatchet to color it with blood. It is now\nbright; when it is red, it shall be buried.\"\n\n\"But Magua is pledged not to sully the lilies of France. The enemies of\nthe great king across the salt lake are his enemies; his friends, the\nfriends of the Hurons.\"\n\n\"Friends!\" repeated the Indian, in scorn. \"Let his father give Magua a\nhand.\"\n\nMontcalm, who felt that his influence over the warlike tribes he had\ngathered was to be maintained by concession rather than by power,\ncomplied reluctantly with the other's request. The savage placed the\nfinger of the French commander on a deep scar in his bosom, and then\nexultingly demanded,--\n\n\"Does my father know that?\"\n\n\"What warrior does not? 'tis where a leaden bullet has cut.\"\n\n\"And this?\" continued the Indian, who had turned his naked back to the\nother, his body being without its usual calico mantle.\n\n\"This!--my son has been sadly injured, here; who has done this?\"\n\n\"Magua slept hard in the English wigwams, and the sticks have left their\nmark,\" returned the savage, with a hollow laugh, which did not conceal\nthe fierce temper that nearly choked him. Then recollecting himself,\nwith sudden and native dignity, he added, \"Go; teach your young men, it\nis peace. Le Renard Subtil knows how to speak to a Huron warrior.\"\n\nWithout deigning to bestow further words, or to wait for any answer, the\nsavage cast his rifle into the hollow of his arm, and moved silently\nthrough the encampment towards the woods where his own tribe was known\nto lie. Every few yards as he proceeded he was challenged by the\nsentinels; but he stalked sullenly onward, utterly disregarding the\nsummons of the soldiers, who only spared his life because they knew the\nair and tread no less than the obstinate daring of an Indian.\n\nMontcalm lingered long and melancholy on the strand, where he had been\nleft by his companion, brooding deeply on the temper which his\nungovernable ally had just discovered. Already had his fair fame been\ntarnished by one horrid scene, and in circumstances fearfully resembling\nthose under which he now found himself. As he mused he became keenly\nsensible of the deep responsibility they assume who disregard the means\nto attain their end, and of all the danger of setting in motion an\nengine which it exceeds human power to control. Then shaking off a train\nof reflections that he accounted a weakness in such a moment of triumph,\nhe retraced his steps towards his tent, giving the order as he passed,\nto make the signal that should arouse the army from its slumbers.\n\nThe first tap of the French drums was echoed from the bosom of the fort,\nand presently the valley was filled with the strains of martial music,\nrising long, thrilling, and lively above the rattling accompaniment. The\nhorns of the victors sounded merry and cheerful flourishes, until the\nlast laggard of the camp was at his post; but the instant the British\nfifes had blown their shrill signal, they became mute. In the meantime\nthe day had dawned, and when the line of the French army was ready to\nreceive its general, the rays of a brilliant sun were glancing along the\nglittering array. Then that success, which was already so well known,\nwas officially announced; the favored band who were selected to guard\nthe gates of the fort were detailed, and defiled before their chief; the\nsignal of their approach was given, and all the usual preparations for a\nchange of masters were ordered and executed directly under the guns of\nthe contested works.\n\nA very different scene presented itself within the lines of the\nAnglo-American army. As soon as the warning signal was given, it\nexhibited all the signs of a hurried and forced departure. The sullen\nsoldiers shouldered their empty tubes and fell into their places, like\nmen whose blood had been heated by the past contest, and who only\ndesired the opportunity to revenge an indignity which was still wounding\nto their pride, concealed as it was under all the observances of\nmilitary etiquette. Women and children ran from place to place, some\nbearing the scanty remnants of their baggage, and others searching in\nthe ranks for those countenances they looked up to for protection.\n\nMunro appeared among his silent troops firm but dejected. It was evident\nthat the unexpected blow had struck deep into his heart, though he\nstruggled to sustain his misfortune with the port of man.\n\nDuncan was touched at the quiet and impressive exhibition of his grief.\nHe had discharged his own duty, and he now pressed to the side of the\nold man, to know in what particular he might serve him.\n\n\"My daughters,\" was the brief but expressive reply.\n\n\"Good heavens! are not arrangements already made for their convenience?\"\n\n\"To-day I am only a soldier, Major Heyward,\" said the veteran. \"All that\nyou see here, claim alike to be my children.\"\n\nDuncan had heard enough. Without losing one of those moments which had\nnow become so precious, he flew towards the quarters of Munro, in quest\nof the sisters. He found them on the threshold of the low edifice,\nalready prepared to depart, and surrounded by a clamorous and weeping\nassemblage of their own sex, that had gathered about the place, with a\nsort of instinctive consciousness that it was the point most likely to\nbe protected. Though the cheeks of Cora were pale, and her countenance\nanxious, she had lost none of her firmness; but the eyes of Alice were\ninflamed, and betrayed how long and bitterly she had wept. They both,\nhowever, received the young man with undisguised pleasure; the former,\nfor a novelty, being the first to speak.\n\n\"The fort is lost,\" she said, with a melancholy smile; \"though our good\nname, I trust, remains.\"\n\n\"'Tis brighter than ever. But, dearest Miss Munro, it is time to think\nless of others, and to make some provision for yourself. Military\nusage,--pride,--that pride on which you so much value yourself, demands\nthat your father and I should for a little while continue with the\ntroops. Then where to seek a proper protector for you against the\nconfusion and chances of such a scene?\"\n\n\"None is necessary,\" returned Cora; \"who will dare to injure or insult\nthe daughter of such a father, at a time like this?\"\n\n\"I would not leave you alone,\" continued the youth, looking about him in\na hurried manner, \"for the command of the best regiment in the pay of\nthe king. Remember, our Alice is not gifted with all your firmness, and\nGod only knows the terror she might endure.\"\n\n\"You may be right,\" Cora replied, smiling again, but far more sadly than\nbefore. \"Listen! chance has already sent us a friend when he is most\nneeded.\"\n\nDuncan did listen, and on the instant comprehended her meaning. The low\nand serious sounds of the sacred music, so well known to the eastern\nprovinces, caught his ear, and instantly drew him to an apartment in an\nadjacent building, which had already been deserted by its customary\ntenants. There he found David, pouring out his pious feelings, through\nthe only medium in which he ever indulged. Duncan waited, until, by the\ncessation of the movement of the hand, he believed the strain was ended,\nwhen, by touching his shoulder, he drew the attention of the other to\nhimself, and in a few words explained his wishes.\n\n\"Even so,\" replied the single-minded disciple of the King of Israel,\nwhen the young man had ended; \"I have found much that is comely and\nmelodious in the maidens, and it is fitting that we who have consorted\nin so much peril, should abide together in peace. I will attend them,\nwhen I have completed my morning praise, to which nothing is now wanting\nbut the doxology. Wilt thou bear a part, friend? The metre is common,\nand the tune, 'Southwell.'\"\n\nThen, extending the little volume, and giving the pitch of the air anew\nwith considerate attention, David recommenced and finished his strains,\nwith a fixedness of manner that it was not easy to interrupt. Heyward\nwas fain to wait until the verse was ended; when, seeing David relieving\nhimself from the spectacles, and replacing the book, he continued,--\n\n\"It will be your duty to see that none dare to approach the ladies with\nany rude intention, or to offer insult or taunt at the misfortune of\ntheir brave father. In this task you will be seconded by the domestics\nof their household.\"\n\n\"Even so.\"\n\n\"It is possible that the Indians and stragglers of the enemy may\nintrude, in which case you will remind them of the terms of the\ncapitulation, and threaten to report their conduct to Montcalm. A word\nwill suffice.\"\n\n\"If not, I have that here which shall,\" returned David, exhibiting his\nbook, with an air in which meekness and confidence were singularly\nblended. \"Here are words which, uttered, or rather thundered, with\nproper emphasis, and in measured time, shall quiet the most unruly\ntemper:--\n\n  \"'Why rage the heathen furiously!'\"--\n\n\"Enough,\" said Heyward, interrupting the burst of his musical\ninvocation: \"we understand each other; it is time that we should now\nassume our respective duties.\"\n\nGamut cheerfully assented, and together they sought the females. Cora\nreceived her new, and somewhat extraordinary protector, courteously at\nleast; and even the pallid features of Alice lighted again with some of\ntheir native archness as she thanked Heyward for his care. Duncan took\noccasion to assure them he had done the best that circumstances\npermitted, and, as he believed, quite enough for the security of their\nfeelings; of danger there was none. He then spoke gladly of his\nintention to rejoin them the moment he had led the advance a few miles\ntowards the Hudson, and immediately took his leave.\n\nBy this time the signal of departure had been given, and the head of the\nEnglish column was in motion. The sisters started at the sound, and\nglancing their eyes around, they saw the white uniforms of the French\ngrenadiers, who had already taken possession of the gates of the fort.\nAt that moment, an enormous cloud seemed to pass suddenly above their\nheads, and looking upward, they discovered that they stood beneath the\nwide folds of the standard of France.\n\n\"Let us go,\" said Cora; \"this is no longer a fit place for the children\nof an English officer.\"\n\nAlice clung to the arm of her sister, and together they left the parade,\naccompanied by the moving throng that surrounded them.\n\nAs they passed the gates, the French officers, who had learned their\nrank, bowed often and low, forbearing, however, to intrude those\nattentions which they saw, with peculiar tact, might not be agreeable.\nAs every vehicle and each beast of burden was occupied by the sick and\nwounded, Cora had decided to endure the fatigues of a foot march, rather\nthan interfere with their comforts. Indeed, many a maimed and feeble\nsoldier was compelled to drag his exhausted limbs in the rear of the\ncolumns, for the want of the necessary means of conveyance, in that\nwilderness. The whole, however, was in motion; the weak and wounded,\ngroaning, and in suffering; their comrades, silent and sullen; and the\nwomen and children in terror, they knew not of what.\n\nAs the confused and timid throng left the protecting mounds of the fort,\nand issued on the open plain, the whole scene was at once presented to\ntheir eyes. At a little distance on the right, and somewhat in the rear,\nthe French army stood to their arms, Montcalm having collected his\nparties, so soon as his guards had possession of the works. They were\nattentive but silent observers of the proceedings of the vanquished,\nfailing in none of the stipulated military honors, and offering no taunt\nor insult, in their success, to their less fortunate foes. Living masses\nof the English, to the amount in the whole of near three thousand, were\nmoving slowly across the plain, towards the common centre, and gradually\napproached each other, as they converged to the point of their march, a\nvista cut through the lofty trees, where the road to the Hudson entered\nthe forest. Along the sweeping borders of the woods, hung a dark cloud\nof savages, eying the passage of their enemies, and hovering, at a\ndistance, like vultures, who were only kept from swooping on their prey,\nby the presence and restraint of a superior army. A few had straggled\namong the conquered columns, where they stalked in sullen discontent;\nattentive, though, as yet, passive observers of the moving multitude.\n\nThe advance, with Heyward at its head, had already reached the defile,\nand was slowly disappearing, when the attention of Cora was drawn to a\ncollection of stragglers, by the sounds of contention. A truant\nprovincial was paying the forfeit of his disobedience, by being\nplundered of those very effects which had caused him to desert his place\nin the ranks. The man was of powerful frame, and too avaricious to part\nwith his goods without a struggle. Individuals from either party\ninterfered; the one side to prevent, and the other to aid in the\nrobbery. Voices grew loud and angry, and a hundred savages appeared, as\nit were by magic, where a dozen only had been seen a minute before. It\nwas then that Cora saw the form of Magua gliding among his countrymen,\nand speaking with his fatal and artful eloquence. The mass of women and\nchildren stopped, and hovered together like alarmed and fluttering\nbirds. But the cupidity of the Indian was soon gratified, and the\ndifferent bodies again moved slowly onward.\n\nThe savages now fell back, and seemed content to let their enemies\nadvance without further molestation. But as the female crowd approached\nthem, the gaudy colors of a shawl attracted the eyes of a wild and\nuntutored Huron. He advanced to seize it, without the least hesitation.\nThe woman, more in terror than through love of the ornament, wrapped her\nchild in the coveted article, and folded both more closely to her bosom.\nCora was in the act of speaking, with an intent to advise the woman to\nabandon the trifle, when the savage relinquished his hold of the shawl,\nand tore the screaming infant from her arms. Abandoning everything to\nthe greedy grasp of those around her, the mother darted, with\ndistraction in her mien, to reclaim her child. The Indian smiled grimly,\nand extended one hand, in sign of a willingness to exchange, while with\nthe other, he flourished the babe over his head, holding it by the feet\nas if to enhance the value of the ransom.\n\n\"Here--here--there--all--any--everything!\" exclaimed the breathless\nwoman; tearing the lighter articles of dress from her person, with\nill-directed and trembling fingers; \"take all, but give me my babe!\"\n\nThe savage spurned the worthless rags, and perceiving that the shawl had\nalready become a prize to another, his bantering but sullen smile\nchanging to a gleam of ferocity, he dashed the head of the infant\nagainst a rock, and cast its quivering remains to her very feet. For an\ninstant, the mother stood, like a statue of despair, looking wildly down\nat the unseemly object, which had so lately nestled in her bosom and\nsmiled in her face; and then she raised her eyes and countenance towards\nheaven, as if calling on God to curse the perpetrator of the foul deed.\nShe was spared the sin of such a prayer; for, maddened at his\ndisappointment, and excited at the sight of blood, the Huron mercifully\ndrove his tomahawk into her own brain. The mother sank under the blow,\nand fell, grasping at her child, in death, with the same engrossing love\nthat had caused her to cherish it when living.\n\nAt that dangerous moment Magua placed his hands to his mouth, and raised\nthe fatal and appalling whoop. The scattered Indians started at the\nwell-known cry, as coursers bound at the signal to quit the goal; and,\ndirectly, there arose such a yell along the plain, and through the\narches of the wood, as seldom burst from human lips before. They who\nheard it listened with a curdling horror at the heart, little inferior\nto that dread which may be expected to attend the blasts of the final\nsummons.\n\nMore than two thousand raving savages broke from the forest at the\nsignal, and threw themselves across the fatal plain with instinctive\nalacrity. We shall not dwell on the revolting horrors that succeeded.\nDeath was everywhere, and in his most terrific and disgusting aspects.\nResistance only served to inflame the murderers, who inflicted their\nfurious blows long after their victims were beyond the power of their\nresentment. The flow of blood might be likened to the outbreaking of a\ntorrent; and, as the natives became heated and maddened by the sight,\nmany among them even kneeled to the earth, and drank freely, exultingly,\nhellishly, of the crimson tide.\n\nThe trained bodies of the troops threw themselves quickly into solid\nmasses, endeavoring to awe their assailants by the imposing appearance\nof a military front. The experiment in some measure succeeded, though\nfar too many suffered their unloaded muskets to be torn from their\nhands, in the vain hope of appeasing the savages.\n\nIn such a scene none had leisure to note the fleeting moments. It might\nhave been ten minutes (it seemed an age), that the sisters had stood\nriveted to one spot, horror-stricken, and nearly helpless. When the\nfirst blow was struck, their screaming companions had pressed upon them\nin a body, rendering flight impossible; and now that fear or death had\nscattered most, if not all, from around them, they saw no avenue open,\nbut such as conducted to the tomahawks of their foes. On every side\narose shrieks, groans, exhortations, and curses. At this moment Alice\ncaught a glimpse of the vast form of her father, moving rapidly across\nthe plain, in the direction of the French army. He was, in truth,\nproceeding to Montcalm, fearless of every danger, to claim the tardy\nescort for which he had before conditioned. Fifty glittering axes and\nbarbed spears were offered unheeded at his life, but the savages\nrespected his rank and calmness, even in their fury. The dangerous\nweapons were brushed aside by the still nervous arm of the veteran, or\nfell of themselves, after menacing an act that it would seem no one had\ncourage to perform. Fortunately, the vindictive Magua was searching for\nhis victim in the very band the veteran had just quitted.\n\n\"Father--father--we are here!\" shrieked Alice, as he passed, at no great\ndistance, without appearing to heed them. \"Come to us, father, or we\ndie!\"\n\nThe cry was repeated, and in terms and tones that might have melted a\nheart of stone, but it was unanswered. Once, indeed, the old man\nappeared to catch the sounds, for he paused and listened; but Alice had\ndropped senseless on the earth, and Cora had sunk at her side, hovering\nin untiring tenderness over her lifeless form. Munro shook his head in\ndisappointment, and proceeded, bent on the high duty of his station.\n\n\"Lady,\" said Gamut, who, helpless and useless as he was, had not yet\ndreamed of deserting his trust, \"it is the jubilee of the devils, and\nthis is not a meet place for Christians to tarry in. Let us up and fly.\"\n\n\"Go,\" said Cora, still gazing at her unconscious sister; \"save thyself.\nTo me thou canst not be of further use.\"\n\nDavid comprehended the unyielding character of her resolution, by the\nsimple but expressive gesture that accompanied her words. He gazed, for\na moment, at the dusky forms that were acting their hellish rites on\nevery side of him, and his tall person grew more erect, while his chest\nheaved, and every feature swelled, and seemed to speak with the power of\nthe feelings by which he was governed.\n\n\"If the Jewish boy might tame the evil spirit of Saul by the sound of\nhis harp, and the words of sacred song, it may not be amiss,\" he said,\n\"to try the potency of music here.\"\n\nThen raising his voice to its highest tones, he poured out a strain so\npowerful as to be heard even amid the din of that bloody field. More\nthan one savage rushed towards them, thinking to rifle the unprotected\nsisters of their attire, and bear away their scalps; but when they found\nthis strange and unmoved figure riveted to his post, they paused to\nlisten. Astonishment soon changed to admiration, and they passed on to\nother and less courageous victims, openly expressing their satisfaction\nat the firmness with which the white warrior sang his death song.\nEncouraged and deluded by his success, David exerted all his powers to\nextend what he believed so holy an influence. The unwonted sounds caught\nthe ears of a distant savage, who flew raging from group to group, like\none who, scorning to touch the vulgar herd, hunted for some victim more\nworthy of his renown. It was Magua, who uttered a yell of pleasure when\nhe beheld his ancient prisoners again at his mercy.\n\n\"Come,\" he said, laying his soiled hands on the dress of Cora, \"the\nwigwam of the Huron is still open. Is it not better than this place?\"\n\n\"Away!\" cried Cora, veiling her eyes from his revolting aspect.\n\nThe Indian laughed tauntingly, as he held up his reeking hand, and\nanswered,--\"It is red, but it comes from white veins!\"\n\n\"Monster! there is blood, oceans of blood, upon thy soul; thy spirit has\nmoved this scene.\"\n\n\"Magua is a great chief!\" returned the exulting savage; \"will the dark\nhair go to his tribe?\"\n\n\"Never! strike, if thou wilt, and complete thy revenge.\"\n\nHe hesitated a moment; and then catching the light and senseless form of\nAlice in his arms, the subtle Indian moved swiftly across the plain\ntowards the woods.\n\n\"Hold!\" shrieked Cora, following wildly on his footsteps; \"release the\nchild! wretch! what is't you do?\"\n\nBut Magua was deaf to her voice; or rather he knew his power, and was\ndetermined to maintain it.\n\n\"Stay--lady--stay,\" called Gamut, after the unconscious Cora. \"The holy\ncharm is beginning to be felt, and soon shalt thou see this horrid\ntumult stilled.\"\n\nPerceiving that, in his turn, he was unheeded, the faithful David\nfollowed the distracted sister, raising his voice again in sacred song,\nand sweeping the air to the measure, with his long arm, in diligent\naccompaniment. In this manner they traversed the plain, through the\nflying, the wounded, and the dead. The fierce Huron was, at any time,\nsufficient for himself and the victim that he bore; though Cora would\nhave fallen, more than once, under the blows of her savage enemies, but\nfor the extraordinary being who stalked in her rear, and who now\nappeared to the astonished natives gifted with the protecting spirit of\nmadness.\n\nMagua, who knew how to avoid the more pressing dangers, and also to\nelude pursuit, entered the woods through a low ravine, where he quickly\nfound the Narragansetts, which the travellers had abandoned so shortly\nbefore, awaiting his appearance, in custody of a savage as fierce and as\nmalign in his expression as himself. Laying Alice on one of the horses,\nhe made a sign to Cora to mount the other.\n\nNotwithstanding the horror excited by the presence of her captor, there\nwas a present relief in escaping from the bloody scene enacting on the\nplain, to which Cora could not be altogether insensible. She took her\nseat, and held forth her arms for her sister, with an air of entreaty\nand love that even the Huron could not deny. Placing Alice, then, on the\nsame animal with Cora, he seized the bridle, and commenced his route by\nplunging deeper into the forest. David, perceiving that he was left\nalone, utterly disregarded, as a subject too worthless even to destroy,\nthrew his long limb across the saddle of the beast they had deserted,\nand made such progress in the pursuit as the difficulties of the path\npermitted.\n\nThey soon began to ascend, but as the motion had a tendency to revive\nthe dormant faculties of her sister, the attention of Cora was too much\ndivided between the tenderest solicitude in her behalf, and in listening\nto the cries which were still too audible on the plain, to note the\ndirection in which they journeyed. When, however, they gained the\nflattened surface of the mountain-top, and approached the eastern\nprecipice, she recognized the spot to which she had once before been led\nunder the more friendly auspices of the scout. Here Magua suffered them\nto dismount; and, notwithstanding their own captivity, the curiosity\nwhich seems inseparable from horror, induced them to gaze at the\nsickening sight below.\n\nThe cruel work was still unchecked. On every side the captured were\nflying before their relentless persecutors, while the armed columns of\nthe Christian king stood fast in an apathy which has never been\nexplained, and which has left an unmovable blot on the otherwise fair\nescutcheon of their leader. Nor was the sword of death stayed until\ncupidity got the mastery of revenge. Then, indeed, the shrieks of the\nwounded and the yells of their murderers grew less frequent, until,\nfinally, the cries of horror were lost to their ear, or were drowned in\nthe loud, long, and piercing whoops of the triumphant savages.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?\nA: After dawn, the English slowly file out of the fort, surrounded by columns of solemn French soldiers and leering Indians. One of the Indians tries to take a shawl from an Englishwoman as she passes by. When she pulls the shawl away from him, he seizes her baby and smashes it against the rocks. Then he sinks his tomahawk into the mother's skull. Magua begins yelling the frenzied Indian war whoop, and the Indians attack the English, slaughtering them and drinking their blood. Munro storms through the battle to find Montcalm, ignoring even Alice's cries for help. Magua sees Alice fainting and hurries away with her. Cora chases after him, followed by Gamut, who has been singing throughout the battle in order to confuse the Indians and keep them away from the young women. As the battle abates, the Indians begin looting the bodies of their victims.\n\n","prompt":"Chapter: \"Weave we the woof. The thread is spun.\n  The web is wove. The work is done.\"\n\n  GRAY.\n\n\nThe hostile armies, which lay in the wilds of the Horican, passed the\nnight of the 9th of August, 1757, much in the manner they would had they\nencountered on the fairest fields of Europe. While the conquered were\nstill, sullen, and dejected, the victors triumphed. But there are limits\nalike to grief and joy; and long before the watches of the morning came,\nthe stillness of those boundless woods was only broken by a gay call\nfrom some exulting young Frenchman of the advanced pickets, or a\nmenacing challenge from the fort, which sternly forbade the approach of\nany hostile footsteps before the stipulated moment. Even these\noccasional threatening sounds ceased to be heard in that dull hour which\nprecedes the day, at which period a listener might have sought in vain\nany evidence of the presence of those armed powers that then slumbered\non the shores of the \"holy lake.\"\n\nIt was during these moments of deep silence, that the canvas which\nconcealed the entrance to a spacious marquee in the French encampment\nwas shoved aside, and a man issued from beneath the drapery into the\nopen air. He was enveloped in a cloak that might have been intended as a\nprotection from the chilling damps of the woods, but which served\nequally well as a mantle, to conceal his person. He was permitted to\npass the grenadier, who watched over the slumbers of the French\ncommander, without interruption, the man making the usual salute which\nbetokens military deference, as the other passed swiftly through the\nlittle city of tents, in the direction of William Henry. Whenever this\nunknown individual encountered one of the numberless sentinels who\ncrossed his path, his answer was prompt, and as it appeared\nsatisfactory; for he was uniformly allowed to proceed, without further\ninterrogation.\n\nWith the exception of such repeated, but brief interruptions, he had\nmoved, silently, from the centre of the camp, to its most advanced\noutposts, when he drew nigh the soldier who held his watch nearest to\nthe works of the enemy. As he approached he was received with the usual\nchallenge,--\n\n\"Qui vive?\"\n\n\"France,\" was the reply.\n\n\"Le mot d'ordre?\"\n\n\"La victoire,\" said the other, drawing so nigh as to be heard in a loud\nwhisper.\n\n\"C'est bien,\" returned the sentinel, throwing his musket from the charge\nto his shoulder; \"vous vous promenez bien matin, monsieur!\"\n\n\"Il est necessaire d'etre vigilant, mon enfant,\" the other observed,\ndropping a fold of his cloak, and looking the soldier close in the face,\nas he passed him, still continuing his way towards the British\nfortification. The man started; his arms rattled heavily, as he threw\nthem forward, in the lowest and most respectful salute; and when he had\nagain recovered his piece, he turned to walk his post, muttering between\nhis teeth,--\n\n\"Il faut etre vigilant, en verite! je crois que nous avons la, un\ncaporal qui ne dort jamais!\"\n\nThe officer proceeded, without affecting to hear the words which escaped\nthe sentinel in his surprise; nor did he again pause until he had\nreached the low strand, and in a somewhat dangerous vicinity to the\nwestern water bastion of the fort. The light of an obscure moon was just\nsufficient to render objects, though dim, perceptible in their outlines.\nHe, therefore, took the precaution to place himself against the trunk of\na tree, where he leaned for many minutes, and seemed to contemplate the\ndark and silent mounds of the English works in profound attention. His\ngaze at the ramparts was not that of a curious or idle spectator; but\nhis looks wandered from point to point, denoting his knowledge of\nmilitary usages, and betraying that his search was not unaccompanied by\ndistrust. At length he appeared satisfied; and having cast his eyes\nimpatiently upwards towards the summit of the eastern mountain, as if\nanticipating the approach of the morning, he was in the act of turning\non his footsteps, when a light sound on the nearest angle of the bastion\ncaught his ear, and induced him to remain.\n\nJust then a figure was seen to approach the edge of the rampart, where\nit stood, apparently contemplating in its turn the distant tents of the\nFrench encampment. Its head was then turned towards the east, as though\nequally anxious for the appearance of light, when the form leaned\nagainst the mound, and seemed to gaze upon the glassy expanse of the\nwaters, which, like a submarine firmament, glittered with its thousand\nmimic stars. The melancholy air, the hour, together with the vast frame\nof the man who thus leaned, in musing, against the English ramparts,\nleft no doubt as to his person, in the mind of his observant spectator.\nDelicacy, no less than prudence, now urged him to retire; and he had\nmoved cautiously round the body of the tree for that purpose, when\nanother sound drew his attention, and once more arrested his footsteps.\nIt was a low and almost inaudible movement of the water, and was\nsucceeded by a grating of pebbles one against the other. In a moment he\nsaw a dark form rise, as it were out of the lake, and steal without\nfurther noise to the land, within a few feet of the place where he\nhimself stood. A rifle next slowly rose between his eyes and the watery\nmirror; but before it could be discharged his own hand was on the lock.\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed the savage, whose treacherous aim was so singularly\nand so unexpectedly interrupted.\n\nWithout making any reply, the French officer laid his hand on the\nshoulder of the Indian, and led him in profound silence to a distance\nfrom the spot, where their subsequent dialogue might have proved\ndangerous, and where it seemed that one of them, at least, sought a\nvictim. Then, throwing open his cloak, so as to expose his uniform and\nthe cross of St. Louis which was suspended at his breast, Montcalm\nsternly demanded,--\n\n\"What means this! Does not my son know that the hatchet is buried\nbetween the English and his Canadian Father?\"\n\n\"What can the Hurons do?\" returned the savage, speaking also, though\nimperfectly, in the French language. \"Not a warrior has a scalp, and the\npale-faces make friends!\"\n\n\"Ha! Le Renard Subtil! Methinks this is an excess of zeal for a friend\nwho was so late an enemy! How many suns have set since Le Renard struck\nthe war-post of the English?\"\n\n\"Where is that sun!\" demanded the sullen savage. \"Behind the hill; and\nit is dark and cold. But when he comes again, it will be bright and\nwarm. Le Subtil is the sun of his tribe. There have been clouds, and\nmany mountains between him and his nation; but now he shines, and it is\na clear sky!\"\n\n\"That Le Renard has power with his people, I well know,\" said Montcalm;\n\"for yesterday he hunted for their scalps, and to-day they hear him at\nthe council-fire.\"\n\n\"Magua is a great chief.\"\n\n\"Let him prove it, by teaching his nation how to conduct itself towards\nour new friends.\"\n\n\"Why did the chief of the Canadas bring his young men into the woods,\nand fire his cannon at the earthen house?\" demanded the subtle Indian.\n\n\"To subdue it. My master owns the land, and your father has been ordered\nto drive off these English squatters. They have consented to go, and now\nhe calls them enemies no longer.\"\n\n\"'Tis well. Magua took the hatchet to color it with blood. It is now\nbright; when it is red, it shall be buried.\"\n\n\"But Magua is pledged not to sully the lilies of France. The enemies of\nthe great king across the salt lake are his enemies; his friends, the\nfriends of the Hurons.\"\n\n\"Friends!\" repeated the Indian, in scorn. \"Let his father give Magua a\nhand.\"\n\nMontcalm, who felt that his influence over the warlike tribes he had\ngathered was to be maintained by concession rather than by power,\ncomplied reluctantly with the other's request. The savage placed the\nfinger of the French commander on a deep scar in his bosom, and then\nexultingly demanded,--\n\n\"Does my father know that?\"\n\n\"What warrior does not? 'tis where a leaden bullet has cut.\"\n\n\"And this?\" continued the Indian, who had turned his naked back to the\nother, his body being without its usual calico mantle.\n\n\"This!--my son has been sadly injured, here; who has done this?\"\n\n\"Magua slept hard in the English wigwams, and the sticks have left their\nmark,\" returned the savage, with a hollow laugh, which did not conceal\nthe fierce temper that nearly choked him. Then recollecting himself,\nwith sudden and native dignity, he added, \"Go; teach your young men, it\nis peace. Le Renard Subtil knows how to speak to a Huron warrior.\"\n\nWithout deigning to bestow further words, or to wait for any answer, the\nsavage cast his rifle into the hollow of his arm, and moved silently\nthrough the encampment towards the woods where his own tribe was known\nto lie. Every few yards as he proceeded he was challenged by the\nsentinels; but he stalked sullenly onward, utterly disregarding the\nsummons of the soldiers, who only spared his life because they knew the\nair and tread no less than the obstinate daring of an Indian.\n\nMontcalm lingered long and melancholy on the strand, where he had been\nleft by his companion, brooding deeply on the temper which his\nungovernable ally had just discovered. Already had his fair fame been\ntarnished by one horrid scene, and in circumstances fearfully resembling\nthose under which he now found himself. As he mused he became keenly\nsensible of the deep responsibility they assume who disregard the means\nto attain their end, and of all the danger of setting in motion an\nengine which it exceeds human power to control. Then shaking off a train\nof reflections that he accounted a weakness in such a moment of triumph,\nhe retraced his steps towards his tent, giving the order as he passed,\nto make the signal that should arouse the army from its slumbers.\n\nThe first tap of the French drums was echoed from the bosom of the fort,\nand presently the valley was filled with the strains of martial music,\nrising long, thrilling, and lively above the rattling accompaniment. The\nhorns of the victors sounded merry and cheerful flourishes, until the\nlast laggard of the camp was at his post; but the instant the British\nfifes had blown their shrill signal, they became mute. In the meantime\nthe day had dawned, and when the line of the French army was ready to\nreceive its general, the rays of a brilliant sun were glancing along the\nglittering array. Then that success, which was already so well known,\nwas officially announced; the favored band who were selected to guard\nthe gates of the fort were detailed, and defiled before their chief; the\nsignal of their approach was given, and all the usual preparations for a\nchange of masters were ordered and executed directly under the guns of\nthe contested works.\n\nA very different scene presented itself within the lines of the\nAnglo-American army. As soon as the warning signal was given, it\nexhibited all the signs of a hurried and forced departure. The sullen\nsoldiers shouldered their empty tubes and fell into their places, like\nmen whose blood had been heated by the past contest, and who only\ndesired the opportunity to revenge an indignity which was still wounding\nto their pride, concealed as it was under all the observances of\nmilitary etiquette. Women and children ran from place to place, some\nbearing the scanty remnants of their baggage, and others searching in\nthe ranks for those countenances they looked up to for protection.\n\nMunro appeared among his silent troops firm but dejected. It was evident\nthat the unexpected blow had struck deep into his heart, though he\nstruggled to sustain his misfortune with the port of man.\n\nDuncan was touched at the quiet and impressive exhibition of his grief.\nHe had discharged his own duty, and he now pressed to the side of the\nold man, to know in what particular he might serve him.\n\n\"My daughters,\" was the brief but expressive reply.\n\n\"Good heavens! are not arrangements already made for their convenience?\"\n\n\"To-day I am only a soldier, Major Heyward,\" said the veteran. \"All that\nyou see here, claim alike to be my children.\"\n\nDuncan had heard enough. Without losing one of those moments which had\nnow become so precious, he flew towards the quarters of Munro, in quest\nof the sisters. He found them on the threshold of the low edifice,\nalready prepared to depart, and surrounded by a clamorous and weeping\nassemblage of their own sex, that had gathered about the place, with a\nsort of instinctive consciousness that it was the point most likely to\nbe protected. Though the cheeks of Cora were pale, and her countenance\nanxious, she had lost none of her firmness; but the eyes of Alice were\ninflamed, and betrayed how long and bitterly she had wept. They both,\nhowever, received the young man with undisguised pleasure; the former,\nfor a novelty, being the first to speak.\n\n\"The fort is lost,\" she said, with a melancholy smile; \"though our good\nname, I trust, remains.\"\n\n\"'Tis brighter than ever. But, dearest Miss Munro, it is time to think\nless of others, and to make some provision for yourself. Military\nusage,--pride,--that pride on which you so much value yourself, demands\nthat your father and I should for a little while continue with the\ntroops. Then where to seek a proper protector for you against the\nconfusion and chances of such a scene?\"\n\n\"None is necessary,\" returned Cora; \"who will dare to injure or insult\nthe daughter of such a father, at a time like this?\"\n\n\"I would not leave you alone,\" continued the youth, looking about him in\na hurried manner, \"for the command of the best regiment in the pay of\nthe king. Remember, our Alice is not gifted with all your firmness, and\nGod only knows the terror she might endure.\"\n\n\"You may be right,\" Cora replied, smiling again, but far more sadly than\nbefore. \"Listen! chance has already sent us a friend when he is most\nneeded.\"\n\nDuncan did listen, and on the instant comprehended her meaning. The low\nand serious sounds of the sacred music, so well known to the eastern\nprovinces, caught his ear, and instantly drew him to an apartment in an\nadjacent building, which had already been deserted by its customary\ntenants. There he found David, pouring out his pious feelings, through\nthe only medium in which he ever indulged. Duncan waited, until, by the\ncessation of the movement of the hand, he believed the strain was ended,\nwhen, by touching his shoulder, he drew the attention of the other to\nhimself, and in a few words explained his wishes.\n\n\"Even so,\" replied the single-minded disciple of the King of Israel,\nwhen the young man had ended; \"I have found much that is comely and\nmelodious in the maidens, and it is fitting that we who have consorted\nin so much peril, should abide together in peace. I will attend them,\nwhen I have completed my morning praise, to which nothing is now wanting\nbut the doxology. Wilt thou bear a part, friend? The metre is common,\nand the tune, 'Southwell.'\"\n\nThen, extending the little volume, and giving the pitch of the air anew\nwith considerate attention, David recommenced and finished his strains,\nwith a fixedness of manner that it was not easy to interrupt. Heyward\nwas fain to wait until the verse was ended; when, seeing David relieving\nhimself from the spectacles, and replacing the book, he continued,--\n\n\"It will be your duty to see that none dare to approach the ladies with\nany rude intention, or to offer insult or taunt at the misfortune of\ntheir brave father. In this task you will be seconded by the domestics\nof their household.\"\n\n\"Even so.\"\n\n\"It is possible that the Indians and stragglers of the enemy may\nintrude, in which case you will remind them of the terms of the\ncapitulation, and threaten to report their conduct to Montcalm. A word\nwill suffice.\"\n\n\"If not, I have that here which shall,\" returned David, exhibiting his\nbook, with an air in which meekness and confidence were singularly\nblended. \"Here are words which, uttered, or rather thundered, with\nproper emphasis, and in measured time, shall quiet the most unruly\ntemper:--\n\n  \"'Why rage the heathen furiously!'\"--\n\n\"Enough,\" said Heyward, interrupting the burst of his musical\ninvocation: \"we understand each other; it is time that we should now\nassume our respective duties.\"\n\nGamut cheerfully assented, and together they sought the females. Cora\nreceived her new, and somewhat extraordinary protector, courteously at\nleast; and even the pallid features of Alice lighted again with some of\ntheir native archness as she thanked Heyward for his care. Duncan took\noccasion to assure them he had done the best that circumstances\npermitted, and, as he believed, quite enough for the security of their\nfeelings; of danger there was none. He then spoke gladly of his\nintention to rejoin them the moment he had led the advance a few miles\ntowards the Hudson, and immediately took his leave.\n\nBy this time the signal of departure had been given, and the head of the\nEnglish column was in motion. The sisters started at the sound, and\nglancing their eyes around, they saw the white uniforms of the French\ngrenadiers, who had already taken possession of the gates of the fort.\nAt that moment, an enormous cloud seemed to pass suddenly above their\nheads, and looking upward, they discovered that they stood beneath the\nwide folds of the standard of France.\n\n\"Let us go,\" said Cora; \"this is no longer a fit place for the children\nof an English officer.\"\n\nAlice clung to the arm of her sister, and together they left the parade,\naccompanied by the moving throng that surrounded them.\n\nAs they passed the gates, the French officers, who had learned their\nrank, bowed often and low, forbearing, however, to intrude those\nattentions which they saw, with peculiar tact, might not be agreeable.\nAs every vehicle and each beast of burden was occupied by the sick and\nwounded, Cora had decided to endure the fatigues of a foot march, rather\nthan interfere with their comforts. Indeed, many a maimed and feeble\nsoldier was compelled to drag his exhausted limbs in the rear of the\ncolumns, for the want of the necessary means of conveyance, in that\nwilderness. The whole, however, was in motion; the weak and wounded,\ngroaning, and in suffering; their comrades, silent and sullen; and the\nwomen and children in terror, they knew not of what.\n\nAs the confused and timid throng left the protecting mounds of the fort,\nand issued on the open plain, the whole scene was at once presented to\ntheir eyes. At a little distance on the right, and somewhat in the rear,\nthe French army stood to their arms, Montcalm having collected his\nparties, so soon as his guards had possession of the works. They were\nattentive but silent observers of the proceedings of the vanquished,\nfailing in none of the stipulated military honors, and offering no taunt\nor insult, in their success, to their less fortunate foes. Living masses\nof the English, to the amount in the whole of near three thousand, were\nmoving slowly across the plain, towards the common centre, and gradually\napproached each other, as they converged to the point of their march, a\nvista cut through the lofty trees, where the road to the Hudson entered\nthe forest. Along the sweeping borders of the woods, hung a dark cloud\nof savages, eying the passage of their enemies, and hovering, at a\ndistance, like vultures, who were only kept from swooping on their prey,\nby the presence and restraint of a superior army. A few had straggled\namong the conquered columns, where they stalked in sullen discontent;\nattentive, though, as yet, passive observers of the moving multitude.\n\nThe advance, with Heyward at its head, had already reached the defile,\nand was slowly disappearing, when the attention of Cora was drawn to a\ncollection of stragglers, by the sounds of contention. A truant\nprovincial was paying the forfeit of his disobedience, by being\nplundered of those very effects which had caused him to desert his place\nin the ranks. The man was of powerful frame, and too avaricious to part\nwith his goods without a struggle. Individuals from either party\ninterfered; the one side to prevent, and the other to aid in the\nrobbery. Voices grew loud and angry, and a hundred savages appeared, as\nit were by magic, where a dozen only had been seen a minute before. It\nwas then that Cora saw the form of Magua gliding among his countrymen,\nand speaking with his fatal and artful eloquence. The mass of women and\nchildren stopped, and hovered together like alarmed and fluttering\nbirds. But the cupidity of the Indian was soon gratified, and the\ndifferent bodies again moved slowly onward.\n\nThe savages now fell back, and seemed content to let their enemies\nadvance without further molestation. But as the female crowd approached\nthem, the gaudy colors of a shawl attracted the eyes of a wild and\nuntutored Huron. He advanced to seize it, without the least hesitation.\nThe woman, more in terror than through love of the ornament, wrapped her\nchild in the coveted article, and folded both more closely to her bosom.\nCora was in the act of speaking, with an intent to advise the woman to\nabandon the trifle, when the savage relinquished his hold of the shawl,\nand tore the screaming infant from her arms. Abandoning everything to\nthe greedy grasp of those around her, the mother darted, with\ndistraction in her mien, to reclaim her child. The Indian smiled grimly,\nand extended one hand, in sign of a willingness to exchange, while with\nthe other, he flourished the babe over his head, holding it by the feet\nas if to enhance the value of the ransom.\n\n\"Here--here--there--all--any--everything!\" exclaimed the breathless\nwoman; tearing the lighter articles of dress from her person, with\nill-directed and trembling fingers; \"take all, but give me my babe!\"\n\nThe savage spurned the worthless rags, and perceiving that the shawl had\nalready become a prize to another, his bantering but sullen smile\nchanging to a gleam of ferocity, he dashed the head of the infant\nagainst a rock, and cast its quivering remains to her very feet. For an\ninstant, the mother stood, like a statue of despair, looking wildly down\nat the unseemly object, which had so lately nestled in her bosom and\nsmiled in her face; and then she raised her eyes and countenance towards\nheaven, as if calling on God to curse the perpetrator of the foul deed.\nShe was spared the sin of such a prayer; for, maddened at his\ndisappointment, and excited at the sight of blood, the Huron mercifully\ndrove his tomahawk into her own brain. The mother sank under the blow,\nand fell, grasping at her child, in death, with the same engrossing love\nthat had caused her to cherish it when living.\n\nAt that dangerous moment Magua placed his hands to his mouth, and raised\nthe fatal and appalling whoop. The scattered Indians started at the\nwell-known cry, as coursers bound at the signal to quit the goal; and,\ndirectly, there arose such a yell along the plain, and through the\narches of the wood, as seldom burst from human lips before. They who\nheard it listened with a curdling horror at the heart, little inferior\nto that dread which may be expected to attend the blasts of the final\nsummons.\n\nMore than two thousand raving savages broke from the forest at the\nsignal, and threw themselves across the fatal plain with instinctive\nalacrity. We shall not dwell on the revolting horrors that succeeded.\nDeath was everywhere, and in his most terrific and disgusting aspects.\nResistance only served to inflame the murderers, who inflicted their\nfurious blows long after their victims were beyond the power of their\nresentment. The flow of blood might be likened to the outbreaking of a\ntorrent; and, as the natives became heated and maddened by the sight,\nmany among them even kneeled to the earth, and drank freely, exultingly,\nhellishly, of the crimson tide.\n\nThe trained bodies of the troops threw themselves quickly into solid\nmasses, endeavoring to awe their assailants by the imposing appearance\nof a military front. The experiment in some measure succeeded, though\nfar too many suffered their unloaded muskets to be torn from their\nhands, in the vain hope of appeasing the savages.\n\nIn such a scene none had leisure to note the fleeting moments. It might\nhave been ten minutes (it seemed an age), that the sisters had stood\nriveted to one spot, horror-stricken, and nearly helpless. When the\nfirst blow was struck, their screaming companions had pressed upon them\nin a body, rendering flight impossible; and now that fear or death had\nscattered most, if not all, from around them, they saw no avenue open,\nbut such as conducted to the tomahawks of their foes. On every side\narose shrieks, groans, exhortations, and curses. At this moment Alice\ncaught a glimpse of the vast form of her father, moving rapidly across\nthe plain, in the direction of the French army. He was, in truth,\nproceeding to Montcalm, fearless of every danger, to claim the tardy\nescort for which he had before conditioned. Fifty glittering axes and\nbarbed spears were offered unheeded at his life, but the savages\nrespected his rank and calmness, even in their fury. The dangerous\nweapons were brushed aside by the still nervous arm of the veteran, or\nfell of themselves, after menacing an act that it would seem no one had\ncourage to perform. Fortunately, the vindictive Magua was searching for\nhis victim in the very band the veteran had just quitted.\n\n\"Father--father--we are here!\" shrieked Alice, as he passed, at no great\ndistance, without appearing to heed them. \"Come to us, father, or we\ndie!\"\n\nThe cry was repeated, and in terms and tones that might have melted a\nheart of stone, but it was unanswered. Once, indeed, the old man\nappeared to catch the sounds, for he paused and listened; but Alice had\ndropped senseless on the earth, and Cora had sunk at her side, hovering\nin untiring tenderness over her lifeless form. Munro shook his head in\ndisappointment, and proceeded, bent on the high duty of his station.\n\n\"Lady,\" said Gamut, who, helpless and useless as he was, had not yet\ndreamed of deserting his trust, \"it is the jubilee of the devils, and\nthis is not a meet place for Christians to tarry in. Let us up and fly.\"\n\n\"Go,\" said Cora, still gazing at her unconscious sister; \"save thyself.\nTo me thou canst not be of further use.\"\n\nDavid comprehended the unyielding character of her resolution, by the\nsimple but expressive gesture that accompanied her words. He gazed, for\na moment, at the dusky forms that were acting their hellish rites on\nevery side of him, and his tall person grew more erect, while his chest\nheaved, and every feature swelled, and seemed to speak with the power of\nthe feelings by which he was governed.\n\n\"If the Jewish boy might tame the evil spirit of Saul by the sound of\nhis harp, and the words of sacred song, it may not be amiss,\" he said,\n\"to try the potency of music here.\"\n\nThen raising his voice to its highest tones, he poured out a strain so\npowerful as to be heard even amid the din of that bloody field. More\nthan one savage rushed towards them, thinking to rifle the unprotected\nsisters of their attire, and bear away their scalps; but when they found\nthis strange and unmoved figure riveted to his post, they paused to\nlisten. Astonishment soon changed to admiration, and they passed on to\nother and less courageous victims, openly expressing their satisfaction\nat the firmness with which the white warrior sang his death song.\nEncouraged and deluded by his success, David exerted all his powers to\nextend what he believed so holy an influence. The unwonted sounds caught\nthe ears of a distant savage, who flew raging from group to group, like\none who, scorning to touch the vulgar herd, hunted for some victim more\nworthy of his renown. It was Magua, who uttered a yell of pleasure when\nhe beheld his ancient prisoners again at his mercy.\n\n\"Come,\" he said, laying his soiled hands on the dress of Cora, \"the\nwigwam of the Huron is still open. Is it not better than this place?\"\n\n\"Away!\" cried Cora, veiling her eyes from his revolting aspect.\n\nThe Indian laughed tauntingly, as he held up his reeking hand, and\nanswered,--\"It is red, but it comes from white veins!\"\n\n\"Monster! there is blood, oceans of blood, upon thy soul; thy spirit has\nmoved this scene.\"\n\n\"Magua is a great chief!\" returned the exulting savage; \"will the dark\nhair go to his tribe?\"\n\n\"Never! strike, if thou wilt, and complete thy revenge.\"\n\nHe hesitated a moment; and then catching the light and senseless form of\nAlice in his arms, the subtle Indian moved swiftly across the plain\ntowards the woods.\n\n\"Hold!\" shrieked Cora, following wildly on his footsteps; \"release the\nchild! wretch! what is't you do?\"\n\nBut Magua was deaf to her voice; or rather he knew his power, and was\ndetermined to maintain it.\n\n\"Stay--lady--stay,\" called Gamut, after the unconscious Cora. \"The holy\ncharm is beginning to be felt, and soon shalt thou see this horrid\ntumult stilled.\"\n\nPerceiving that, in his turn, he was unheeded, the faithful David\nfollowed the distracted sister, raising his voice again in sacred song,\nand sweeping the air to the measure, with his long arm, in diligent\naccompaniment. In this manner they traversed the plain, through the\nflying, the wounded, and the dead. The fierce Huron was, at any time,\nsufficient for himself and the victim that he bore; though Cora would\nhave fallen, more than once, under the blows of her savage enemies, but\nfor the extraordinary being who stalked in her rear, and who now\nappeared to the astonished natives gifted with the protecting spirit of\nmadness.\n\nMagua, who knew how to avoid the more pressing dangers, and also to\nelude pursuit, entered the woods through a low ravine, where he quickly\nfound the Narragansetts, which the travellers had abandoned so shortly\nbefore, awaiting his appearance, in custody of a savage as fierce and as\nmalign in his expression as himself. Laying Alice on one of the horses,\nhe made a sign to Cora to mount the other.\n\nNotwithstanding the horror excited by the presence of her captor, there\nwas a present relief in escaping from the bloody scene enacting on the\nplain, to which Cora could not be altogether insensible. She took her\nseat, and held forth her arms for her sister, with an air of entreaty\nand love that even the Huron could not deny. Placing Alice, then, on the\nsame animal with Cora, he seized the bridle, and commenced his route by\nplunging deeper into the forest. David, perceiving that he was left\nalone, utterly disregarded, as a subject too worthless even to destroy,\nthrew his long limb across the saddle of the beast they had deserted,\nand made such progress in the pursuit as the difficulties of the path\npermitted.\n\nThey soon began to ascend, but as the motion had a tendency to revive\nthe dormant faculties of her sister, the attention of Cora was too much\ndivided between the tenderest solicitude in her behalf, and in listening\nto the cries which were still too audible on the plain, to note the\ndirection in which they journeyed. When, however, they gained the\nflattened surface of the mountain-top, and approached the eastern\nprecipice, she recognized the spot to which she had once before been led\nunder the more friendly auspices of the scout. Here Magua suffered them\nto dismount; and, notwithstanding their own captivity, the curiosity\nwhich seems inseparable from horror, induced them to gaze at the\nsickening sight below.\n\nThe cruel work was still unchecked. On every side the captured were\nflying before their relentless persecutors, while the armed columns of\nthe Christian king stood fast in an apathy which has never been\nexplained, and which has left an unmovable blot on the otherwise fair\nescutcheon of their leader. Nor was the sword of death stayed until\ncupidity got the mastery of revenge. Then, indeed, the shrieks of the\nwounded and the yells of their murderers grew less frequent, until,\nfinally, the cries of horror were lost to their ear, or were drowned in\nthe loud, long, and piercing whoops of the triumphant savages.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?\nA:","completion":" After dawn, the English slowly file out of the fort, surrounded by columns of solemn French soldiers and leering Indians. One of the Indians tries to take a shawl from an Englishwoman as she passes by. When she pulls the shawl away from him, he seizes her baby and smashes it against the rocks. Then he sinks his tomahawk into the mother's skull. Magua begins yelling the frenzied Indian war whoop, and the Indians attack the English, slaughtering them and drinking their blood. Munro storms through the battle to find Montcalm, ignoring even Alice's cries for help. Magua sees Alice fainting and hurries away with her. Cora chases after him, followed by Gamut, who has been singing throughout the battle in order to confuse the Indians and keep them away from the young women. As the battle abates, the Indians begin looting the bodies of their victims.\n\n"},"truncated_cells":[]},{"row_idx":42,"row":{"text":"Chapter: \"Why, anything:\n  An honorable murderer, if you will;\n  For naught I did in hate, but all in honor.\"\n\n  _Othello._\n\n\nThe bloody and inhuman scene rather incidentally mentioned than\ndescribed in the preceding chapter, is conspicuous in the pages of\ncolonial history, by the merited title of \"The Massacre of William\nHenry.\" It so far deepened the stain which a previous and very similar\nevent had left upon the reputation of the French commander, that it was\nnot entirely erased by his early and glorious death. It is now becoming\nobscured by time; and thousands, who know that Montcalm died like a hero\non the plains of Abraham, have yet to learn how much he was deficient in\nthat moral courage without which no man can be truly great. Pages might\nbe written to prove, from this illustrious example, the defects of human\nexcellence; to show how easy it is for generous sentiments, high\ncourtesy, and chivalrous courage, to lose their influence beneath the\nchilling blight of selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man who\nwas great in all the minor attributes of character, but who was found\nwanting when it became necessary to prove how much principle is superior\nto policy. But the task would exceed our prerogatives; and, as history,\nlike love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of\nimaginary brightness, it is probable that Louis de Saint Veran will be\nviewed by posterity only as the gallant defender of his country, while\nhis cruel apathy on the shores of the Oswego and of the Horican will be\nforgotten. Deeply regretting this weakness on the part of a sister muse,\nwe shall at once retire from her sacred precincts, within the proper\nlimits of our own humble vocation.\n\nThe third day from the capture of the fort was drawing to a close, but\nthe business of the narrative must still detain the reader on the shores\nof the \"holy lake.\" When last seen, the environs of the works were\nfilled with violence and uproar. They were now possessed by stillness\nand death. The blood-stained conquerors had departed; and their camp,\nwhich had so lately rung with the merry rejoicings of a victorious army,\nlay a silent and deserted city of huts. The fortress was a smouldering\nruin; charred rafters, fragments of exploded artillery, and rent\nmason-work, covering its earthen mounds in confused disorder.\n\nA frightful change had also occurred in the season. The sun had hid its\nwarmth behind an impenetrable mass of vapor, and hundreds of human\nforms, which had blackened beneath the fierce heats of August, were\nstiffening in their deformity, before the blasts of a premature\nNovember. The curling and spotless mists, which had been seen sailing\nabove the hills towards the north, were now returning in an interminable\ndusky sheet, that was urged along by the fury of a tempest. The crowded\nmirror of the Horican was gone; and, in its place, the green and angry\nwaters lashed the shores, as if indignantly casting back its impurities\nto the polluted strand. Still the clear fountain retained a portion of\nits charmed influence, but it reflected only the sombre gloom that fell\nfrom the impending heavens. That humid and congenial atmosphere which\ncommonly adorned the view, veiling its harshness, and softening its\nasperities, had disappeared, and the northern air poured across the\nwaste of water so harsh and unmingled, that nothing was left to be\nconjectured by the eye, or fashioned by the fancy.\n\nThe fiercer element had cropped the verdure of the plain, which looked\nas though it were scathed by the consuming lightning. But, here and\nthere, a dark green tuft rose in the midst of the desolation; the\nearliest fruits of a soil that had been fattened with human blood. The\nwhole landscape, which, seen by a favoring light, and in a genial\ntemperature, had been found so lovely, appeared now like some pictured\nallegory of life, in which objects were arrayed in their harshest but\ntruest colors, and without the relief of any shadowing.\n\nThe solitary and arid blades of grass arose from the passing gusts\nfearfully perceptible; the bold and rocky mountains were too distinct in\ntheir barrenness, and the eye even sought relief, in vain, by attempting\nto pierce the illimitable void of heaven, which was shut to its gaze by\nthe dusky sheet of ragged and driving vapor.\n\nThe wind blew unequally; sometimes sweeping heavily along the ground,\nseeming to whisper its moanings in the cold ears of the dead, then\nrising in a shrill and mournful whistling, it entered the forest with a\nrush that filled the air with the leaves and branches it scattered in\nits path. Amid the unnatural shower, a few hungry ravens struggled with\nthe gale; but no sooner was the green ocean of woods, which stretched\nbeneath them, passed, than they gladly stopped, at random, to their\nhideous banquet.\n\nIn short, it was the scene of wildness and desolation; and it appeared\nas if all who had profanely entered it had been stricken, at a blow, by\nthe relentless arm of death. But the prohibition had ceased; and for the\nfirst time since the perpetrators of those foul deeds which had assisted\nto disfigure the scene were gone, living human beings had now presumed\nto approach the place.\n\nAbout an hour before the setting of the sun, on the day already\nmentioned, the forms of five men might have been seen issuing from the\nnarrow vista of trees, where the path to the Hudson entered the forest,\nand advancing in the direction of the ruined works. At first their\nprogress was slow and guarded, as though they entered with reluctance\namid the horrors of the spot, or dreaded the renewal of its frightful\nincidents. A light figure preceded the rest of the party, with the\ncaution and activity of a native; ascending every hillock to\nreconnoitre, and indicating, by gestures, to his companions, the route\nhe deemed it most prudent to pursue. Nor were those in the rear wanting\nin every caution and foresight known to forest warfare. One among them,\nhe also was an Indian, moved a little on one flank, and watched the\nmargin of the woods, with eyes long accustomed to read the smallest sign\nof danger. The remaining three were white, though clad in vestments\nadapted, both in quality and color, to their present hazardous\npursuit,--that of hanging on the skirts of a retiring army in the\nwilderness.\n\nThe effects produced by the appalling sights that constantly arose in\ntheir path to the lake shore, were as different as the characters of the\nrespective individuals who composed the party. The youth in front threw\nserious but furtive glances at the mangled victims, as he stepped\nlightly across the plain, afraid to exhibit his feelings, and yet too\ninexperienced to quell entirely their sudden and powerful influence. His\nred associate, however, was superior to such a weakness. He passed the\ngroups of dead with a steadiness of purpose, and an eye so calm, that\nnothing but long and inveterate practice could enable him to maintain.\nThe sensations produced in the minds of even the white men were\ndifferent, though uniformly sorrowful. One, whose gray locks and\nfurrowed lineaments, blending with a martial air and tread, betrayed, in\nspite of the disguise of a woodsman's dress, a man long experienced in\nscenes of war, was not ashamed to groan aloud, whenever a spectacle of\nmore than usual horror came under his view. The young man at his elbow\nshuddered, but seemed to suppress his feelings in tenderness to his\ncompanion. Of them all, the straggler who brought up the rear appeared\nalone to betray his real thoughts, without fear of observation or dread\nof consequences. He gazed at the most appalling sight with eyes and\nmuscles that knew not how to waver, but with execrations so bitter and\ndeep as to denote how much he denounced the crime of his enemies.\n\nThe reader will perceive at once, in these respective characters, the\nMohicans, and their white friend, the scout; together with Munro and\nHeyward. It was, in truth, the father in quest of his children, attended\nby the youth who felt so deep a stake in their happiness, and those\nbrave and trusty foresters, who had already proved their skill and\nfidelity through the trying scenes related.\n\nWhen Uncas, who moved in front, had reached the centre of the plain, he\nraised a cry that drew his companions in a body to the spot. The young\nwarrior had halted over a group of females who lay in a cluster, a\nconfused mass of dead. Notwithstanding the revolting horror of the\nexhibition, Munro and Heyward flew towards the festering heap,\nendeavoring, with a love that no unseemliness could extinguish, to\ndiscover whether any vestiges of those they sought were to be seen among\nthe tattered and many-colored garments. The father and lover found\ninstant relief in the search; though each was condemned again to\nexperience the misery of an uncertainty that was hardly less\ninsupportable than the most revolting truth. They were standing, silent\nand thoughtful, around the melancholy pile, when the scout approached.\nEying the sad spectacle with an angry countenance, the sturdy woodsman,\nfor the first time since his entering the plain, spoke intelligibly and\naloud:--\n\n\"I have been on many a shocking field, and have followed a trail of\nblood for many miles,\" he said, \"but never have I found the hand of the\ndevil so plain as it is here to be seen! Revenge is an Indian feeling,\nand all who know me know that there is no cross in my veins; but this\nmuch will I say--here, in the face of heaven, and with the power of the\nLord so manifest in this howling wilderness,--that should these\nFrenchers ever trust themselves again within the range of a ragged\nbullet, there is one rifle shall play its part, so long as flint will\nfire or powder burn! I leave the tomahawk and knife to such as have a\nnatural gift to use them. What say you, Chingachgook,\" he added in\nDelaware; \"shall the Hurons boast of this to their women when the deep\nsnows come?\"\n\nA gleam of resentment flashed across the dark lineaments of the Mohican\nchief: he loosened his knife in its sheath; and then turning calmly from\nthe sight, his countenance settled into a repose as deep as if he never\nknew the instigation of passion.\n\n\"Montcalm! Montcalm!\" continued the deeply resentful and less\nself-restrained scout; \"they say a time must come, when all the deeds\ndone in the flesh will be seen at a single look; and that by eyes\ncleared from mortal infirmities. Woe betide the wretch who is born to\nbehold this plain, with the judgment hanging about his soul! Ha--as I am\na man of white blood, yonder lies a redskin, without the hair of his\nhead where nature rooted it! Look to him, Delaware; it may be one of\nyour missing people; and he should have burial like a stout warrior. I\nsee it in your eye, Sagamore: a Huron pays for this, afore the fall\nwinds have blown away the scent of the blood!\"\n\nChingachgook approached the mutilated form, and turning it over, he\nfound the distinguishing marks of one of those six allied tribes, or\nnations, as they were called, who, while they fought in the English\nranks, were so deadly hostile to his own people. Spurning the loathsome\nobject with his foot, he turned from it with the same indifference he\nwould have quitted a brute carcass. The scout comprehended the action,\nand very deliberately pursued his own way, continuing, however, his\ndenunciations against the French commander in the same resentful strain.\n\n\"Nothing but vast wisdom and unlimited power should dare to sweep off\nmen in multitudes,\" he added; \"for it is only the one that can know the\nnecessity of the judgment; and what is there, short of the other, that\ncan replace the creatures of the Lord? I hold it a sin to kill the\nsecond buck afore the first is eaten, unless a march in the front, or an\nambushment, be contemplated. It is a different matter with a few\nwarriors in open and rugged fight, for 'tis their gift to die with the\nrifle or the tomahawk in hand; according as their natures may happen to\nbe, white or red. Uncas, come this way, lad, and let the ravens settle\nupon the Mingo. I know, from often seeing it, that they have a craving\nfor the flesh of an Oneida; and it is as well to let the bird follow the\ngift of its natural appetite.\"\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed the young Mohican, rising on the extremities of his\nfeet, and gazing intently in his front, frightening the raven to some\nother prey, by the sound and the action.\n\n\"What is it, boy?\" whispered the scout, lowering his tall form into a\ncrouching attitude, like a panther about to take his leap; \"God send it\nbe a tardy Frencher, skulking for plunder. I do believe 'Killdeer' would\ntake an oncommon range to-day!\"\n\nUncas, without making any reply, bounded away from the spot, and in the\nnext instant he was seen tearing from a bush, and waving in triumph a\nfragment of the green riding-veil of Cora. The movement, the exhibition,\nand the cry, which again burst from the lips of the young Mohican,\ninstantly drew the whole party about him.\n\n\"My child!\" said Munro, speaking quick and wildly \"give me my child!\"\n\n\"Uncas will try,\" was the short and touching answer.\n\nThe simple but meaning assurance was lost on the father, who seized the\npiece of gauze, and crushed it in his hand, while his eyes roamed\nfearfully among the bushes, as if he equally dreaded and hoped for the\nsecrets they might reveal.\n\n\"Here are no dead,\" said Heyward; \"the storm seems not to have passed\nthis way.\"\n\n\"That's manifest; and clearer than the heavens above our heads,\"\nreturned the undisturbed scout; \"but either she, or they that have\nrobbed her, have passed the bush; for I remember the rag she wore to\nhide a face that all did love to look upon. Uncas, you are right; the\ndark-hair has been here, and she has fled like a frightened fawn, to the\nwood; none who could fly would remain to be murdered. Let us search for\nthe marks she left; for to Indian eyes, I sometimes think even a\nhumming-bird leaves his trail in the air.\"\n\nThe young Mohican darted away at the suggestion, and the scout had\nhardly done speaking, before the former raised a cry of success from the\nmargin of the forest. On reaching the spot, the anxious party perceived\nanother portion of the veil fluttering on the lower branch of a beech.\n\n\"Softly, softly,\" said the scout, extending his long rifle in front of\nthe eager Heyward; \"we now know our work, but the beauty of the trail\nmust not be deformed. A step too soon may give us hours of trouble. We\nhave them, though; that much is beyond denial.\"\n\n\"Bless ye, bless ye, worthy man!\" exclaimed Munro; \"whither, then, have\nthey fled, and where are my babes?\"\n\n\"The path they have taken depends on many chances. If they have gone\nalone, they are quite as likely to move in a circle as straight, and\nthey may be within a dozen miles of us; but if the Hurons, or any of the\nFrench Indians, have laid hands on them, 'tis probable they are now near\nthe borders of the Canadas. But what matters that?\" continued the\ndeliberate scout, observing the powerful anxiety and disappointment the\nlisteners exhibited; \"here are the Mohicans and I on one end of the\ntrail, and, rely on it, we find the other, though they should be a\nhundred leagues asunder! Gently, gently, Uncas, you are as impatient as\na man in the settlements; you forget that light feet leave but faint\nmarks!\"\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed Chingachgook, who had been occupied in examining an\nopening that had been evidently made through the low underbrush, which\nskirted the forest; and who now stood erect, as he pointed downwards, in\nthe attitude and with the air of a man who beheld a disgusting serpent.\n\n\"Here is the palpable impression of the footstep of a man,\" cried\nHeyward, bending over the indicated spot; \"he has trod in the margin of\nthis pool, and the mark cannot be mistaken. They are captives.\"\n\n\"Better so than left to starve in the wilderness,\" returned the scout;\n\"and they will leave a wider trail. I would wager fifty beaver skins\nagainst as many flints, that the Mohicans and I enter their wigwams\nwithin the month! Stoop to it, Uncas, and try what you can make of the\nmoccasin; for moccasin it plainly is, and no shoe.\"\n\nThe young Mohican bent over the track, and removing the scattered leaves\nfrom around the place, he examined it with much of that sort of scrutiny\nthat a money-dealer, in these days of pecuniary doubts, would bestow on\na suspected due-bill. At length he arose from his knees, satisfied with\nthe result of the examination.\n\n\"Well, boy,\" demanded the attentive scout, \"what does it say? can you\nmake anything of the tell-tale?\"\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil!\"\n\n\"Ha! that rampaging devil again! there never will be an end of his\nloping, till 'Killdeer' has said a friendly word to him.\"\n\nHeyward reluctantly admitted the truth of this intelligence, and now\nexpressed rather his hopes than his doubts by saying,--\n\n\"One moccasin is so much like another, it is probable there is some\nmistake.\"\n\n\"One moccasin like another! you may as well say that one foot is like\nanother; though we all know that some are long, and others short; some\nbroad, and others narrow; some with high, and some with low insteps;\nsome in-toed, and some out. One moccasin is no more like another than\none book is like another; though they who can read in one are seldom\nable to tell the marks of the other. Which is all ordered for the best,\ngiving to every man his natural advantages. Let me get down to it,\nUncas; neither book nor moccasin is the worse for having two opinions,\ninstead of one.\" The scout stooped to the task, and instantly added,\n\"You are right, boy; here is the patch we saw so often in the other\nchase. And the fellow will drink when he can get an opportunity: your\ndrinking Indian always learns to walk with a wider toe than the natural\nsavage, it being the gift of a drunkard to straddle, whether of white or\nred skin. 'Tis just the length and breadth too! look at it, Sagamore:\nyou measured the prints more than once, when we hunted the varmints from\nGlenn's to the health-springs.\"\n\nChingachgook complied; and after finishing his short examination, he\narose, and with a quiet demeanor, he merely pronounced the word--\n\n\"Magua!\"\n\n\"Ay, 'tis a settled thing; here then have passed the dark-hair and\nMagua.\"\n\n\"And not Alice?\" demanded Heyward.\n\n\"Of her we have not yet seen the signs,\" returned the scout, looking\nclosely around at the trees, the bushes, and the ground. \"What have we\nthere? Uncas, bring hither the thing you see dangling from yonder\nthorn-bush.\"\n\nWhen the Indian had complied, the scout received the prize, and holding\nit on high, he laughed in his silent but heartfelt manner.\n\n\"'Tis the tooting we'pon of the singer! now we shall have a trail a\npriest might travel,\" he said. \"Uncas, look for the marks of a shoe that\nis long enough to uphold six feet two of tottering human flesh. I begin\nto have some hopes of the fellow, since he has given up squalling to\nfollow some better trade.\"\n\n\"At least, he has been faithful to his trust,\" said Heyward; \"and Cora\nand Alice are not without a friend.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Hawkeye, dropping his rifle, and leaning on it with an air\nof visible contempt, \"he will do their singing. Can he slay a buck for\ntheir dinner; journey by the moss on the beeches, or cut the throat of a\nHuron? If not, the first catbird[22] he meets is the cleverest of the\ntwo. Well, boy, any signs of such a foundation?\"\n\n\"Here is something like the footstep of one who has worn a shoe; can it\nbe that of our friend?\"\n\n\"Touch the leaves lightly, or you'll disconsart the formation. That!\nthat is the print of a foot, but 'tis the dark-hair's; and small it is,\ntoo, for one of such a noble height and grand appearance. The singer\nwould cover it with his heel.\"\n\n\"Where! let me look on the footsteps of my child,\" said Munro, shoving\nthe bushes aside, and bending fondly over the nearly obliterated\nimpression. Though the tread, which had left the mark, had been light\nand rapid, it was still plainly visible. The aged soldier examined it\nwith eyes that grew dim as he gazed; nor did he rise from his stooping\nposture until Heyward saw that he had watered the trace of his\ndaughter's passage with a scalding tear. Willing to divert a distress\nwhich threatened each moment to break through the restraint of\nappearances, by giving the veteran something to do, the young man said\nto the scout,--\n\n\"As we now possess these infallible signs, let us commence our march. A\nmoment, at such a time, will appear an age to the captives.\"\n\n\"It is not the swiftest leaping deer that gives the longest chase,\"\nreturned Hawkeye, without moving his eyes from the different marks that\nhad come under his view; \"we know that the rampaging Huron has\npassed,--and the dark hair,--and the singer,--but where is she of the\nyellow locks and blue eyes? Though little, and far from being as bold as\nher sister, she is fair to the view, and pleasant in discourse. Has she\nno friend, that none care for her?\"\n\n\"God forbid she should ever want hundreds! Are we not now in her\npursuit? for one, I will never cease the search till she be found.\"\n\n\"In that case we may have to journey by different paths; for here she\nhas not passed, light and little as her footstep would be.\"\n\nHeyward drew back, all his ardor to proceed seeming to vanish on the\ninstant. Without attending to this sudden change in the other's humor,\nthe scout, after musing a moment, continued,--\n\n\"There is no woman in this wilderness could leave such a print as that,\nbut the dark-hair or her sister. We know that the first has been here,\nbut where are the signs of the other? Let us push deeper on the trail,\nand if nothing offers, we must go back to the plain and strike another\nscent. Move on, Uncas, and keep your eyes on the dried leaves. I will\nwatch the bushes, while your father shall run with a low nose to the\nground. Move on, friends; the sun is getting behind the hills.\"\n\n\"Is there nothing that I can do?\" demanded the anxious Heyward.\n\n\"You!\" repeated the scout, who, with his red friends, was already\nadvancing in the order he had prescribed; \"yes, you can keep in our\nrear, and be careful not to cross the trail.\"\n\nBefore they had proceeded many rods, the Indians stopped, and appeared\nto gaze at some signs on the earth, with more than their usual keenness.\nBoth father and son spoke quick and loud, now looking at the object of\ntheir mutual admiration, and now regarding each other with the most\nunequivocal pleasure.\n\n\"They have found the little foot!\" exclaimed the scout, moving forward,\nwithout attending further to his own portion of the duty. \"What have we\nhere? An ambushment has been planted in the spot? No, by the truest\nrifle on the frontiers, here have been them one-sided horses again! Now\nthe whole secret is out, and all is plain as the north star at midnight.\nYes, here they have mounted. There the beasts have been bound to a\nsapling, in waiting; and yonder runs the broad path away to the north,\nin full sweep for the Canadas.\"\n\n\"But still there are no signs of Alice--of the younger Miss\nMunro,\"--said Duncan.\n\n\"Unless the shining bauble Uncas has just lifted from the ground should\nprove one. Pass it this way, lad, that we may look at it.\"\n\nHeyward instantly knew it for a trinket that Alice was fond of wearing,\nand which he recollected, with the tenacious memory of a lover, to have\nseen, on the fatal morning of the massacre, dangling from the fair neck\nof his mistress. He seized the highly prized jewel; and as he proclaimed\nthe fact, it vanished from the eyes of the wondering scout, who in vain\nlooked for it on the ground, long after it was warmly pressed against\nthe beating heart of Duncan.\n\n\"Pshaw!\" said the disappointed Hawkeye, ceasing to rake the leaves with\nthe breech of his rifle; \"'tis a certain sign of age, when the sight\nbegins to weaken. Such a glittering gewgaw, and not to be seen! Well,\nwell, I can squint along a clouded barrel yet, and that is enough to\nsettle all disputes between me and the Mingos. I should like to find the\nthing too, if it were only to carry it to the right owner, and that\nwould be bringing the two ends of what I call a long trail\ntogether,--for by this time the broad St. Lawrence, or, perhaps, the\nGreat Lakes themselves, are atwixt us.\"\n\n\"So much the more reason why we should not delay our march,\" returned\nHeyward; \"let us proceed.\"\n\n\"Young blood and hot blood, they say, are much the same thing. We are\nnot about to start on a squirrel hunt, or to drive a deer into the\nHorican, but to outlie for days and nights, and to stretch across a\nwilderness where the feet of men seldom go, and where no bookish\nknowledge would carry you through harmless. An Indian never starts on\nsuch an expedition without smoking over his council-fire; and though a\nman of white blood, I honor their customs in this particular, seeing\nthat they are deliberate and wise. We will, therefore, go back, and\nlight our fire to-night in the ruins of the old fort, and in the morning\nwe shall be fresh, and ready to undertake our work like men, and not\nlike babbling women or eager boys.\"\n\nHeyward saw, by the manner of the scout, that altercation would be\nuseless. Munro had again sunk into that sort of apathy which had beset\nhim since his late overwhelming misfortunes, and from which he was\napparently to be roused only by some new and powerful excitement. Making\na merit of necessity, the young man took the veteran by the arm, and\nfollowed in the footsteps of the Indians and the scout, who had already\nbegun to retrace the path which conducted them to the plain.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?\nA: On the third day after the surprise attack, Hawkeye, the Mohicans, Munro, and Heyward approach the besieged ramparts, which still smoke with fire and smell of death. Cora and Alice remain missing, and the men desperately seek for signs of life. They find no apparent signals or codes. When they begin looking for a trail, Uncas discovers part of Cora's green riding veil. Other clues lead the men to the former location of the horses, and they conclude that the girls, accompanied by Magua and Gamut, have gone into the wilderness. Heyward wants to pursue them immediately, but Hawkeye insists upon careful deliberation and planning. Munro, depressed by his daughters' disappearance, is apathetic\n\n","prompt":"Chapter: \"Why, anything:\n  An honorable murderer, if you will;\n  For naught I did in hate, but all in honor.\"\n\n  _Othello._\n\n\nThe bloody and inhuman scene rather incidentally mentioned than\ndescribed in the preceding chapter, is conspicuous in the pages of\ncolonial history, by the merited title of \"The Massacre of William\nHenry.\" It so far deepened the stain which a previous and very similar\nevent had left upon the reputation of the French commander, that it was\nnot entirely erased by his early and glorious death. It is now becoming\nobscured by time; and thousands, who know that Montcalm died like a hero\non the plains of Abraham, have yet to learn how much he was deficient in\nthat moral courage without which no man can be truly great. Pages might\nbe written to prove, from this illustrious example, the defects of human\nexcellence; to show how easy it is for generous sentiments, high\ncourtesy, and chivalrous courage, to lose their influence beneath the\nchilling blight of selfishness, and to exhibit to the world a man who\nwas great in all the minor attributes of character, but who was found\nwanting when it became necessary to prove how much principle is superior\nto policy. But the task would exceed our prerogatives; and, as history,\nlike love, is so apt to surround her heroes with an atmosphere of\nimaginary brightness, it is probable that Louis de Saint Veran will be\nviewed by posterity only as the gallant defender of his country, while\nhis cruel apathy on the shores of the Oswego and of the Horican will be\nforgotten. Deeply regretting this weakness on the part of a sister muse,\nwe shall at once retire from her sacred precincts, within the proper\nlimits of our own humble vocation.\n\nThe third day from the capture of the fort was drawing to a close, but\nthe business of the narrative must still detain the reader on the shores\nof the \"holy lake.\" When last seen, the environs of the works were\nfilled with violence and uproar. They were now possessed by stillness\nand death. The blood-stained conquerors had departed; and their camp,\nwhich had so lately rung with the merry rejoicings of a victorious army,\nlay a silent and deserted city of huts. The fortress was a smouldering\nruin; charred rafters, fragments of exploded artillery, and rent\nmason-work, covering its earthen mounds in confused disorder.\n\nA frightful change had also occurred in the season. The sun had hid its\nwarmth behind an impenetrable mass of vapor, and hundreds of human\nforms, which had blackened beneath the fierce heats of August, were\nstiffening in their deformity, before the blasts of a premature\nNovember. The curling and spotless mists, which had been seen sailing\nabove the hills towards the north, were now returning in an interminable\ndusky sheet, that was urged along by the fury of a tempest. The crowded\nmirror of the Horican was gone; and, in its place, the green and angry\nwaters lashed the shores, as if indignantly casting back its impurities\nto the polluted strand. Still the clear fountain retained a portion of\nits charmed influence, but it reflected only the sombre gloom that fell\nfrom the impending heavens. That humid and congenial atmosphere which\ncommonly adorned the view, veiling its harshness, and softening its\nasperities, had disappeared, and the northern air poured across the\nwaste of water so harsh and unmingled, that nothing was left to be\nconjectured by the eye, or fashioned by the fancy.\n\nThe fiercer element had cropped the verdure of the plain, which looked\nas though it were scathed by the consuming lightning. But, here and\nthere, a dark green tuft rose in the midst of the desolation; the\nearliest fruits of a soil that had been fattened with human blood. The\nwhole landscape, which, seen by a favoring light, and in a genial\ntemperature, had been found so lovely, appeared now like some pictured\nallegory of life, in which objects were arrayed in their harshest but\ntruest colors, and without the relief of any shadowing.\n\nThe solitary and arid blades of grass arose from the passing gusts\nfearfully perceptible; the bold and rocky mountains were too distinct in\ntheir barrenness, and the eye even sought relief, in vain, by attempting\nto pierce the illimitable void of heaven, which was shut to its gaze by\nthe dusky sheet of ragged and driving vapor.\n\nThe wind blew unequally; sometimes sweeping heavily along the ground,\nseeming to whisper its moanings in the cold ears of the dead, then\nrising in a shrill and mournful whistling, it entered the forest with a\nrush that filled the air with the leaves and branches it scattered in\nits path. Amid the unnatural shower, a few hungry ravens struggled with\nthe gale; but no sooner was the green ocean of woods, which stretched\nbeneath them, passed, than they gladly stopped, at random, to their\nhideous banquet.\n\nIn short, it was the scene of wildness and desolation; and it appeared\nas if all who had profanely entered it had been stricken, at a blow, by\nthe relentless arm of death. But the prohibition had ceased; and for the\nfirst time since the perpetrators of those foul deeds which had assisted\nto disfigure the scene were gone, living human beings had now presumed\nto approach the place.\n\nAbout an hour before the setting of the sun, on the day already\nmentioned, the forms of five men might have been seen issuing from the\nnarrow vista of trees, where the path to the Hudson entered the forest,\nand advancing in the direction of the ruined works. At first their\nprogress was slow and guarded, as though they entered with reluctance\namid the horrors of the spot, or dreaded the renewal of its frightful\nincidents. A light figure preceded the rest of the party, with the\ncaution and activity of a native; ascending every hillock to\nreconnoitre, and indicating, by gestures, to his companions, the route\nhe deemed it most prudent to pursue. Nor were those in the rear wanting\nin every caution and foresight known to forest warfare. One among them,\nhe also was an Indian, moved a little on one flank, and watched the\nmargin of the woods, with eyes long accustomed to read the smallest sign\nof danger. The remaining three were white, though clad in vestments\nadapted, both in quality and color, to their present hazardous\npursuit,--that of hanging on the skirts of a retiring army in the\nwilderness.\n\nThe effects produced by the appalling sights that constantly arose in\ntheir path to the lake shore, were as different as the characters of the\nrespective individuals who composed the party. The youth in front threw\nserious but furtive glances at the mangled victims, as he stepped\nlightly across the plain, afraid to exhibit his feelings, and yet too\ninexperienced to quell entirely their sudden and powerful influence. His\nred associate, however, was superior to such a weakness. He passed the\ngroups of dead with a steadiness of purpose, and an eye so calm, that\nnothing but long and inveterate practice could enable him to maintain.\nThe sensations produced in the minds of even the white men were\ndifferent, though uniformly sorrowful. One, whose gray locks and\nfurrowed lineaments, blending with a martial air and tread, betrayed, in\nspite of the disguise of a woodsman's dress, a man long experienced in\nscenes of war, was not ashamed to groan aloud, whenever a spectacle of\nmore than usual horror came under his view. The young man at his elbow\nshuddered, but seemed to suppress his feelings in tenderness to his\ncompanion. Of them all, the straggler who brought up the rear appeared\nalone to betray his real thoughts, without fear of observation or dread\nof consequences. He gazed at the most appalling sight with eyes and\nmuscles that knew not how to waver, but with execrations so bitter and\ndeep as to denote how much he denounced the crime of his enemies.\n\nThe reader will perceive at once, in these respective characters, the\nMohicans, and their white friend, the scout; together with Munro and\nHeyward. It was, in truth, the father in quest of his children, attended\nby the youth who felt so deep a stake in their happiness, and those\nbrave and trusty foresters, who had already proved their skill and\nfidelity through the trying scenes related.\n\nWhen Uncas, who moved in front, had reached the centre of the plain, he\nraised a cry that drew his companions in a body to the spot. The young\nwarrior had halted over a group of females who lay in a cluster, a\nconfused mass of dead. Notwithstanding the revolting horror of the\nexhibition, Munro and Heyward flew towards the festering heap,\nendeavoring, with a love that no unseemliness could extinguish, to\ndiscover whether any vestiges of those they sought were to be seen among\nthe tattered and many-colored garments. The father and lover found\ninstant relief in the search; though each was condemned again to\nexperience the misery of an uncertainty that was hardly less\ninsupportable than the most revolting truth. They were standing, silent\nand thoughtful, around the melancholy pile, when the scout approached.\nEying the sad spectacle with an angry countenance, the sturdy woodsman,\nfor the first time since his entering the plain, spoke intelligibly and\naloud:--\n\n\"I have been on many a shocking field, and have followed a trail of\nblood for many miles,\" he said, \"but never have I found the hand of the\ndevil so plain as it is here to be seen! Revenge is an Indian feeling,\nand all who know me know that there is no cross in my veins; but this\nmuch will I say--here, in the face of heaven, and with the power of the\nLord so manifest in this howling wilderness,--that should these\nFrenchers ever trust themselves again within the range of a ragged\nbullet, there is one rifle shall play its part, so long as flint will\nfire or powder burn! I leave the tomahawk and knife to such as have a\nnatural gift to use them. What say you, Chingachgook,\" he added in\nDelaware; \"shall the Hurons boast of this to their women when the deep\nsnows come?\"\n\nA gleam of resentment flashed across the dark lineaments of the Mohican\nchief: he loosened his knife in its sheath; and then turning calmly from\nthe sight, his countenance settled into a repose as deep as if he never\nknew the instigation of passion.\n\n\"Montcalm! Montcalm!\" continued the deeply resentful and less\nself-restrained scout; \"they say a time must come, when all the deeds\ndone in the flesh will be seen at a single look; and that by eyes\ncleared from mortal infirmities. Woe betide the wretch who is born to\nbehold this plain, with the judgment hanging about his soul! Ha--as I am\na man of white blood, yonder lies a redskin, without the hair of his\nhead where nature rooted it! Look to him, Delaware; it may be one of\nyour missing people; and he should have burial like a stout warrior. I\nsee it in your eye, Sagamore: a Huron pays for this, afore the fall\nwinds have blown away the scent of the blood!\"\n\nChingachgook approached the mutilated form, and turning it over, he\nfound the distinguishing marks of one of those six allied tribes, or\nnations, as they were called, who, while they fought in the English\nranks, were so deadly hostile to his own people. Spurning the loathsome\nobject with his foot, he turned from it with the same indifference he\nwould have quitted a brute carcass. The scout comprehended the action,\nand very deliberately pursued his own way, continuing, however, his\ndenunciations against the French commander in the same resentful strain.\n\n\"Nothing but vast wisdom and unlimited power should dare to sweep off\nmen in multitudes,\" he added; \"for it is only the one that can know the\nnecessity of the judgment; and what is there, short of the other, that\ncan replace the creatures of the Lord? I hold it a sin to kill the\nsecond buck afore the first is eaten, unless a march in the front, or an\nambushment, be contemplated. It is a different matter with a few\nwarriors in open and rugged fight, for 'tis their gift to die with the\nrifle or the tomahawk in hand; according as their natures may happen to\nbe, white or red. Uncas, come this way, lad, and let the ravens settle\nupon the Mingo. I know, from often seeing it, that they have a craving\nfor the flesh of an Oneida; and it is as well to let the bird follow the\ngift of its natural appetite.\"\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed the young Mohican, rising on the extremities of his\nfeet, and gazing intently in his front, frightening the raven to some\nother prey, by the sound and the action.\n\n\"What is it, boy?\" whispered the scout, lowering his tall form into a\ncrouching attitude, like a panther about to take his leap; \"God send it\nbe a tardy Frencher, skulking for plunder. I do believe 'Killdeer' would\ntake an oncommon range to-day!\"\n\nUncas, without making any reply, bounded away from the spot, and in the\nnext instant he was seen tearing from a bush, and waving in triumph a\nfragment of the green riding-veil of Cora. The movement, the exhibition,\nand the cry, which again burst from the lips of the young Mohican,\ninstantly drew the whole party about him.\n\n\"My child!\" said Munro, speaking quick and wildly \"give me my child!\"\n\n\"Uncas will try,\" was the short and touching answer.\n\nThe simple but meaning assurance was lost on the father, who seized the\npiece of gauze, and crushed it in his hand, while his eyes roamed\nfearfully among the bushes, as if he equally dreaded and hoped for the\nsecrets they might reveal.\n\n\"Here are no dead,\" said Heyward; \"the storm seems not to have passed\nthis way.\"\n\n\"That's manifest; and clearer than the heavens above our heads,\"\nreturned the undisturbed scout; \"but either she, or they that have\nrobbed her, have passed the bush; for I remember the rag she wore to\nhide a face that all did love to look upon. Uncas, you are right; the\ndark-hair has been here, and she has fled like a frightened fawn, to the\nwood; none who could fly would remain to be murdered. Let us search for\nthe marks she left; for to Indian eyes, I sometimes think even a\nhumming-bird leaves his trail in the air.\"\n\nThe young Mohican darted away at the suggestion, and the scout had\nhardly done speaking, before the former raised a cry of success from the\nmargin of the forest. On reaching the spot, the anxious party perceived\nanother portion of the veil fluttering on the lower branch of a beech.\n\n\"Softly, softly,\" said the scout, extending his long rifle in front of\nthe eager Heyward; \"we now know our work, but the beauty of the trail\nmust not be deformed. A step too soon may give us hours of trouble. We\nhave them, though; that much is beyond denial.\"\n\n\"Bless ye, bless ye, worthy man!\" exclaimed Munro; \"whither, then, have\nthey fled, and where are my babes?\"\n\n\"The path they have taken depends on many chances. If they have gone\nalone, they are quite as likely to move in a circle as straight, and\nthey may be within a dozen miles of us; but if the Hurons, or any of the\nFrench Indians, have laid hands on them, 'tis probable they are now near\nthe borders of the Canadas. But what matters that?\" continued the\ndeliberate scout, observing the powerful anxiety and disappointment the\nlisteners exhibited; \"here are the Mohicans and I on one end of the\ntrail, and, rely on it, we find the other, though they should be a\nhundred leagues asunder! Gently, gently, Uncas, you are as impatient as\na man in the settlements; you forget that light feet leave but faint\nmarks!\"\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed Chingachgook, who had been occupied in examining an\nopening that had been evidently made through the low underbrush, which\nskirted the forest; and who now stood erect, as he pointed downwards, in\nthe attitude and with the air of a man who beheld a disgusting serpent.\n\n\"Here is the palpable impression of the footstep of a man,\" cried\nHeyward, bending over the indicated spot; \"he has trod in the margin of\nthis pool, and the mark cannot be mistaken. They are captives.\"\n\n\"Better so than left to starve in the wilderness,\" returned the scout;\n\"and they will leave a wider trail. I would wager fifty beaver skins\nagainst as many flints, that the Mohicans and I enter their wigwams\nwithin the month! Stoop to it, Uncas, and try what you can make of the\nmoccasin; for moccasin it plainly is, and no shoe.\"\n\nThe young Mohican bent over the track, and removing the scattered leaves\nfrom around the place, he examined it with much of that sort of scrutiny\nthat a money-dealer, in these days of pecuniary doubts, would bestow on\na suspected due-bill. At length he arose from his knees, satisfied with\nthe result of the examination.\n\n\"Well, boy,\" demanded the attentive scout, \"what does it say? can you\nmake anything of the tell-tale?\"\n\n\"Le Renard Subtil!\"\n\n\"Ha! that rampaging devil again! there never will be an end of his\nloping, till 'Killdeer' has said a friendly word to him.\"\n\nHeyward reluctantly admitted the truth of this intelligence, and now\nexpressed rather his hopes than his doubts by saying,--\n\n\"One moccasin is so much like another, it is probable there is some\nmistake.\"\n\n\"One moccasin like another! you may as well say that one foot is like\nanother; though we all know that some are long, and others short; some\nbroad, and others narrow; some with high, and some with low insteps;\nsome in-toed, and some out. One moccasin is no more like another than\none book is like another; though they who can read in one are seldom\nable to tell the marks of the other. Which is all ordered for the best,\ngiving to every man his natural advantages. Let me get down to it,\nUncas; neither book nor moccasin is the worse for having two opinions,\ninstead of one.\" The scout stooped to the task, and instantly added,\n\"You are right, boy; here is the patch we saw so often in the other\nchase. And the fellow will drink when he can get an opportunity: your\ndrinking Indian always learns to walk with a wider toe than the natural\nsavage, it being the gift of a drunkard to straddle, whether of white or\nred skin. 'Tis just the length and breadth too! look at it, Sagamore:\nyou measured the prints more than once, when we hunted the varmints from\nGlenn's to the health-springs.\"\n\nChingachgook complied; and after finishing his short examination, he\narose, and with a quiet demeanor, he merely pronounced the word--\n\n\"Magua!\"\n\n\"Ay, 'tis a settled thing; here then have passed the dark-hair and\nMagua.\"\n\n\"And not Alice?\" demanded Heyward.\n\n\"Of her we have not yet seen the signs,\" returned the scout, looking\nclosely around at the trees, the bushes, and the ground. \"What have we\nthere? Uncas, bring hither the thing you see dangling from yonder\nthorn-bush.\"\n\nWhen the Indian had complied, the scout received the prize, and holding\nit on high, he laughed in his silent but heartfelt manner.\n\n\"'Tis the tooting we'pon of the singer! now we shall have a trail a\npriest might travel,\" he said. \"Uncas, look for the marks of a shoe that\nis long enough to uphold six feet two of tottering human flesh. I begin\nto have some hopes of the fellow, since he has given up squalling to\nfollow some better trade.\"\n\n\"At least, he has been faithful to his trust,\" said Heyward; \"and Cora\nand Alice are not without a friend.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Hawkeye, dropping his rifle, and leaning on it with an air\nof visible contempt, \"he will do their singing. Can he slay a buck for\ntheir dinner; journey by the moss on the beeches, or cut the throat of a\nHuron? If not, the first catbird[22] he meets is the cleverest of the\ntwo. Well, boy, any signs of such a foundation?\"\n\n\"Here is something like the footstep of one who has worn a shoe; can it\nbe that of our friend?\"\n\n\"Touch the leaves lightly, or you'll disconsart the formation. That!\nthat is the print of a foot, but 'tis the dark-hair's; and small it is,\ntoo, for one of such a noble height and grand appearance. The singer\nwould cover it with his heel.\"\n\n\"Where! let me look on the footsteps of my child,\" said Munro, shoving\nthe bushes aside, and bending fondly over the nearly obliterated\nimpression. Though the tread, which had left the mark, had been light\nand rapid, it was still plainly visible. The aged soldier examined it\nwith eyes that grew dim as he gazed; nor did he rise from his stooping\nposture until Heyward saw that he had watered the trace of his\ndaughter's passage with a scalding tear. Willing to divert a distress\nwhich threatened each moment to break through the restraint of\nappearances, by giving the veteran something to do, the young man said\nto the scout,--\n\n\"As we now possess these infallible signs, let us commence our march. A\nmoment, at such a time, will appear an age to the captives.\"\n\n\"It is not the swiftest leaping deer that gives the longest chase,\"\nreturned Hawkeye, without moving his eyes from the different marks that\nhad come under his view; \"we know that the rampaging Huron has\npassed,--and the dark hair,--and the singer,--but where is she of the\nyellow locks and blue eyes? Though little, and far from being as bold as\nher sister, she is fair to the view, and pleasant in discourse. Has she\nno friend, that none care for her?\"\n\n\"God forbid she should ever want hundreds! Are we not now in her\npursuit? for one, I will never cease the search till she be found.\"\n\n\"In that case we may have to journey by different paths; for here she\nhas not passed, light and little as her footstep would be.\"\n\nHeyward drew back, all his ardor to proceed seeming to vanish on the\ninstant. Without attending to this sudden change in the other's humor,\nthe scout, after musing a moment, continued,--\n\n\"There is no woman in this wilderness could leave such a print as that,\nbut the dark-hair or her sister. We know that the first has been here,\nbut where are the signs of the other? Let us push deeper on the trail,\nand if nothing offers, we must go back to the plain and strike another\nscent. Move on, Uncas, and keep your eyes on the dried leaves. I will\nwatch the bushes, while your father shall run with a low nose to the\nground. Move on, friends; the sun is getting behind the hills.\"\n\n\"Is there nothing that I can do?\" demanded the anxious Heyward.\n\n\"You!\" repeated the scout, who, with his red friends, was already\nadvancing in the order he had prescribed; \"yes, you can keep in our\nrear, and be careful not to cross the trail.\"\n\nBefore they had proceeded many rods, the Indians stopped, and appeared\nto gaze at some signs on the earth, with more than their usual keenness.\nBoth father and son spoke quick and loud, now looking at the object of\ntheir mutual admiration, and now regarding each other with the most\nunequivocal pleasure.\n\n\"They have found the little foot!\" exclaimed the scout, moving forward,\nwithout attending further to his own portion of the duty. \"What have we\nhere? An ambushment has been planted in the spot? No, by the truest\nrifle on the frontiers, here have been them one-sided horses again! Now\nthe whole secret is out, and all is plain as the north star at midnight.\nYes, here they have mounted. There the beasts have been bound to a\nsapling, in waiting; and yonder runs the broad path away to the north,\nin full sweep for the Canadas.\"\n\n\"But still there are no signs of Alice--of the younger Miss\nMunro,\"--said Duncan.\n\n\"Unless the shining bauble Uncas has just lifted from the ground should\nprove one. Pass it this way, lad, that we may look at it.\"\n\nHeyward instantly knew it for a trinket that Alice was fond of wearing,\nand which he recollected, with the tenacious memory of a lover, to have\nseen, on the fatal morning of the massacre, dangling from the fair neck\nof his mistress. He seized the highly prized jewel; and as he proclaimed\nthe fact, it vanished from the eyes of the wondering scout, who in vain\nlooked for it on the ground, long after it was warmly pressed against\nthe beating heart of Duncan.\n\n\"Pshaw!\" said the disappointed Hawkeye, ceasing to rake the leaves with\nthe breech of his rifle; \"'tis a certain sign of age, when the sight\nbegins to weaken. Such a glittering gewgaw, and not to be seen! Well,\nwell, I can squint along a clouded barrel yet, and that is enough to\nsettle all disputes between me and the Mingos. I should like to find the\nthing too, if it were only to carry it to the right owner, and that\nwould be bringing the two ends of what I call a long trail\ntogether,--for by this time the broad St. Lawrence, or, perhaps, the\nGreat Lakes themselves, are atwixt us.\"\n\n\"So much the more reason why we should not delay our march,\" returned\nHeyward; \"let us proceed.\"\n\n\"Young blood and hot blood, they say, are much the same thing. We are\nnot about to start on a squirrel hunt, or to drive a deer into the\nHorican, but to outlie for days and nights, and to stretch across a\nwilderness where the feet of men seldom go, and where no bookish\nknowledge would carry you through harmless. An Indian never starts on\nsuch an expedition without smoking over his council-fire; and though a\nman of white blood, I honor their customs in this particular, seeing\nthat they are deliberate and wise. We will, therefore, go back, and\nlight our fire to-night in the ruins of the old fort, and in the morning\nwe shall be fresh, and ready to undertake our work like men, and not\nlike babbling women or eager boys.\"\n\nHeyward saw, by the manner of the scout, that altercation would be\nuseless. Munro had again sunk into that sort of apathy which had beset\nhim since his late overwhelming misfortunes, and from which he was\napparently to be roused only by some new and powerful excitement. Making\na merit of necessity, the young man took the veteran by the arm, and\nfollowed in the footsteps of the Indians and the scout, who had already\nbegun to retrace the path which conducted them to the plain.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?\nA:","completion":" On the third day after the surprise attack, Hawkeye, the Mohicans, Munro, and Heyward approach the besieged ramparts, which still smoke with fire and smell of death. Cora and Alice remain missing, and the men desperately seek for signs of life. They find no apparent signals or codes. When they begin looking for a trail, Uncas discovers part of Cora's green riding veil. Other clues lead the men to the former location of the horses, and they conclude that the girls, accompanied by Magua and Gamut, have gone into the wilderness. Heyward wants to pursue them immediately, but Hawkeye insists upon careful deliberation and planning. Munro, depressed by his daughters' disappearance, is apathetic\n\n"},"truncated_cells":[]},{"row_idx":43,"row":{"text":"Chapter: \"_Salar._--Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his\n    flesh; what's that good for?\"\n\n  \"_Shy._--To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will\n    feed my revenge.\"\n\n  _Merchant of Venice._\n\n\nThe shades of evening had come to increase the dreariness of the place,\nwhen the party entered the ruins of William Henry. The scout and his\ncompanions immediately made their preparations to pass the night there;\nbut with an earnestness and sobriety of demeanor, that betrayed how much\nthe unusual horrors they had just witnessed worked on even their\npractised feelings. A few fragments of rafters were reared against a\nblackened wall; and when Uncas had covered them slightly with brush, the\ntemporary accommodations were deemed sufficient. The young Indian\npointed towards his rude hut, when his labor was ended; and Heyward, who\nunderstood the meaning of the silent gesture, gently urged Munro to\nenter. Leaving the bereaved old man alone with his sorrows, Duncan\nimmediately returned to the open air, too much excited himself to seek\nthe repose he had recommended to his veteran friend.\n\nWhile Hawkeye and the Indians lighted their fire, and took their\nevening's repast, a frugal meal of dried bear's meat, the young man paid\na visit to that curtain of the dilapidated fort which looked out on the\nsheet of the Horican. The wind had fallen, and the waves were already\nrolling on the sandy beach beneath him, in a more regular and tempered\nsuccession. The clouds, as if tired of their furious chase, were\nbreaking asunder; the heavier volumes, gathering in black masses about\nthe horizon, while the lighter scud still hurried above the water, or\neddied among the tops of the mountains, like broken flights of birds,\nhovering around their roosts. Here and there, a red and fiery star\nstruggled through the drifting vapor, furnishing a lurid gleam of\nbrightness to the dull aspect of the heavens. Within the bosom of the\nencircling hills, an impenetrable darkness had already settled; and the\nplain lay like a vast and deserted charnel-house, without omen or\nwhisper to disturb the slumbers of its numerous and hapless tenants.\n\nOf this scene, so chillingly in accordance with the past, Duncan stood\nfor many minutes a rapt observer. His eyes wandered from the bosom of\nthe mound, where the foresters were seated around their glimmering fire,\nto the fainter light which still lingered in the skies, and then rested\nlong and anxiously on the embodied gloom, which lay like a dreary void\non that side of him where the dead reposed. He soon fancied that\ninexplicable sounds arose from the place, though so indistinct and\nstolen, as to render not only their nature but even their existence\nuncertain. Ashamed of his apprehensions, the young man turned towards\nthe water, and strove to divert his attentions to the mimic stars that\ndimly glimmered on its moving surface. Still, his too conscious ears\nperformed their ungrateful duty, as if to warn him of some lurking\ndanger. At length a swift trampling seemed quite audibly to rush athwart\nthe darkness. Unable any longer to quiet his uneasiness, Duncan spoke in\na low voice to the scout, requesting him to ascend the mound to the\nplace where he stood. Hawkeye threw his rifle across an arm, and\ncomplied, but with an air so unmoved and calm, as to prove how much he\ncounted on the security of their position.\n\n\"Listen!\" said Duncan, when the other placed himself deliberately at his\nelbow: \"there are suppressed noises on the plain which may show that\nMontcalm has not yet entirely deserted his conquest.\"\n\n\"Then ears are better than eyes,\" said the undisturbed scout, who,\nhaving just deposited a portion of bear between his grinders, spoke\nthick and slow, like one whose mouth was doubly occupied. \"I, myself,\nsaw him caged in Ty, with all his host; for your Frenchers, when they\nhave done a clever thing, like to get back, and have a dance, or a\nmerry-making, with the women over their success.\"\n\n\"I know not. An Indian seldom sleeps in war, and plunder may keep a\nHuron here after his tribe has departed. It would be well to extinguish\nthe fire, and have a watch--listen! you hear the noise I mean!\"\n\n\"An Indian more rarely lurks about the graves. Though ready to slay, and\nnot over-regardful of the means, he is commonly content with the scalp,\nunless when blood is hot, and temper up; but after the spirit is once\nfairly gone, he forgets his enmity, and is willing to let the dead find\ntheir natural rest. Speaking of spirits, Major, are you of opinion that\nthe heaven of a redskin and of us whites will be one and the same?\"\n\n\"No doubt--no doubt. I thought I heard it again! or was it the rustling\nof the leaves in the top of the beech?\"\n\n\"For my own part,\" continued Hawkeye, turning his face, for a moment, in\nthe direction indicated by Heyward, but with a vacant and careless\nmanner, \"I believe that paradise is ordained for happiness; and that men\nwill be indulged in it according to their dispositions and gifts. I\ntherefore judge that a redskin is not far from the truth when he\nbelieves he is to find them glorious hunting-grounds of which his\ntraditions tell; nor, for that matter, do I think it would be any\ndisparagement to a man without a cross to pass his time--\"\n\n\"You hear it again?\" interrupted Duncan.\n\n\"Ay, ay; when food is scarce, and when food is plenty, a wolf grows\nbold,\" said the unmoved scout. \"There would be picking, too, among the\nskins of the devils, if there was light and time for the sport. But,\nconcerning the life that is to come, major: I have heard preachers say,\nin the settlements, that heaven was a place of rest. Now men's minds\ndiffer as to their ideas of enjoyment. For myself, and I say it with\nreverence to the ordering of Providence, it would be no great indulgence\nto be kept shut up in those mansions of which they preach, having a\nnatural longing for motion and the chase.\"\n\nDuncan, who was now made to understand the nature of the noises he had\nheard, answered with more attention to the subject which the humor of\nthe scout had chosen for discussion, by saying,--\n\n\"It is difficult to account for the feelings that may attend the last\ngreat change.\"\n\n\"It would be a change, indeed, for a man who has passed his days in the\nopen air,\" returned the single-minded scout; \"and who has so often\nbroken his fast on the head-waters of the Hudson, to sleep within sound\nof the roaring Mohawk. But it is a comfort to know we serve a merciful\nMaster, though we do it each after his fashion, and with great tracts of\nwilderness atween us--what goes there?\"\n\n\"Is it not the rushing of the wolves you have mentioned?\"\n\nHawkeye slowly shook his head, and beckoned for Duncan to follow him to\na spot, to which the glare from the fire did not extend. When he had\ntaken this precaution, the scout placed himself in an attitude of\nintense attention, and listened long and keenly for a repetition of the\nlow sound that had so unexpectedly startled him. His vigilance, however,\nseemed exercised in vain; for, after a fruitless pause, he whispered to\nDuncan,--\n\n\"We must give a call to Uncas. The boy has Indian senses, and may hear\nwhat is hid from us; for being a white-skin, I will not deny my nature.\"\n\nThe young Mohican, who was conversing in a low voice with his father,\nstarted as he heard the moaning of an owl, and springing on his feet he\nlooked towards the black mounds, as if seeking the place whence the\nsounds proceeded. The scout repeated the call, and in a few moments,\nDuncan saw the figure of Uncas stealing cautiously along the rampart, to\nthe spot where they stood.\n\nHawkeye explained his wishes in a very few words, which were spoken in\nthe Delaware tongue. So soon as Uncas was in possession of the reason\nwhy he was summoned, he threw himself flat on the turf; where, to the\neyes of Duncan, he appeared to lie quiet and motionless. Surprised at\nthe immovable attitude of the young warrior, and curious to observe the\nmanner in which he employed his faculties to obtain the desired\ninformation, Heyward advanced a few steps, and bent over the dark\nobject, on which he had kept his eyes riveted. Then it was he discovered\nthat the form of Uncas had vanished, and that he beheld only the dark\noutline of an inequality in the embankment.\n\n\"What has become of the Mohican?\" he demanded of the scout, stepping\nback in amazement; \"it was here that I saw him fall, and I could have\nsworn that here he yet remained.\"\n\n\"Hist! speak lower; for we know not what ears are open, and the Mingos\nare a quick-witted breed. As for Uncas, he is out on the plain, and the\nMaquas, if any such are about us, will find their equal.\"\n\n\"You think that Montcalm has not called off all his Indians? Let us give\nthe alarm to our companions, that we may stand to our arms. Here are\nfive of us, who are not unused to meet an enemy.\"\n\n\"Not a word to either, as you value life. Look at the Sagamore, how like\na grand Indian chief he sits by the fire. If there are any skulkers out\nin the darkness, they will never discover by his countenance that we\nsuspect danger at hand.\"\n\n\"But they may discover him, and it will prove his death. His person can\nbe too plainly seen by the light of that fire, and he will become the\nfirst and most certain victim.\"\n\n\"It is undeniable that now you speak the truth,\" returned the scout,\nbetraying more anxiety than was usual; \"yet what can be done? A single\nsuspicious look might bring on an attack before we are ready to receive\nit. He knows, by the call I gave to Uncas, that we have struck a scent:\nI will tell him that we are on the trail of the Mingos; his Indian\nnature will teach him how to act.\"\n\nThe scout applied his fingers to his mouth, and raised a low hissing\nsound, that caused Duncan, at first, to start aside, believing that he\nheard a serpent. The head of Chingachgook was resting on a hand, as he\nsat musing by himself; but the moment he heard the warning of the animal\nwhose name he bore, it arose to an upright position and his dark eyes\nglanced swiftly and keenly on every side of him. With this sudden and\nperhaps involuntary movement, every appearance of surprise or alarm\nended. His rifle lay untouched, and apparently unnoticed, within reach\nof his hand. The tomahawk that he had loosened in his belt for the sake\nof ease, was even suffered to fall from its usual situation to the\nground, and his form seemed to sink, like that of a man whose nerves and\nsinews were suffered to relax for the purpose of rest. Cunningly\nresuming his former position, though with a change of hands, as if the\nmovement had been made merely to relieve the limb, the native awaited\nthe result with a calmness and fortitude that none but an Indian warrior\nwould have known how to exercise.\n\nBut Heyward saw that while to a less instructed eye the Mohican chief\nappeared to slumber, his nostrils were expanded, his head was turned a\nlittle to one side, as if to assist the organs of hearing, and that his\nquick and rapid glances ran incessantly over every object, within the\npower of his vision.\n\n\"See the noble fellow!\" whispered Hawkeye, pressing the arm of Heyward;\n\"he knows that a look or a motion might discansart our schemes, and put\nus at the mercy of them imps--\"\n\nHe was interrupted by the flash and report of a rifle. The air was\nfilled with sparks of fire around that spot where the eyes of Heyward\nwere still fastened with admiration and wonder. A second look told him\nthat Chingachgook had disappeared in the confusion. In the meantime the\nscout had thrown forward his rifle, like one prepared for service, and\nawaited impatiently the moment when an enemy might rise to view. But\nwith the solitary and fruitless attempt made on the life of\nChingachgook, the attack appeared to have terminated. Once or twice the\nlisteners thought they could distinguish the distant rustling of bushes,\nas bodies of some unknown description rushed through them; nor was it\nlong before Hawkeye pointed out the \"scampering of the wolves,\" as they\nfled precipitately before the passage of some intruder on their proper\ndomains. After an impatient and breathless pause, a plunge was heard in\nthe water, and it was immediately followed by the report of another\nrifle.\n\n\"There goes Uncas!\" said the scout; \"the boy bears a smart piece! I know\nits crack, as well as a father knows the language of his child, for I\ncarried the gun myself until a better offered.\"\n\n\"What can this mean?\" demanded Duncan; \"we are watched, and, as it would\nseem, marked for destruction.\"\n\n\"Yonder scattered brand can witness that no good was intended, and this\nIndian will testify that no harm has been done,\" returned the scout,\ndropping his rifle across his arm again, and following Chingachgook, who\njust then reappeared within the circle of light, into the bosom of the\nworks. \"How is it, Sagamore? Are the Mingos upon us in earnest, or is it\nonly one of those rept_y_les who hang upon the skirts of a war party, to\nscalp the dead, go in, and make their boast among the squaws of the\nvaliant deeds done on the pale-faces?\"\n\nChingachgook very quietly resumed his seat; nor did he make any reply,\nuntil after he had examined the firebrand which had been struck by the\nbullet that had nearly proved fatal to himself. After which, he was\ncontent to reply, holding a single finger up to view, with the English\nmonosyllable,--\n\n\"One.\"\n\n\"I thought as much,\" returned Hawkeye, seating himself; \"and as he had\ngot the cover of the lake afore Uncas pulled upon him, it is more than\nprobable the knave will sing his lies about some great ambushment, in\nwhich he was outlying on the trail of two Mohicans and a white\nhunter--for the officers can be considered as little better than idlers\nin such a scrimmage. Well, let him--let him. There are always some\nhonest men in every nation, though heaven knows, too, that they are\nscarce among the Maquas, to look down an upstart when he brags ag'in\nthe face of reason. The varlet sent his lead within whistle of your\nears, Sagamore.\"\n\nChingachgook turned a calm and incurious eye towards the place where the\nball had struck, and then resumed his former attitude, with a composure\nthat could not be disturbed by so trifling an incident. Just then Uncas\nglided into the circle, and seated himself at the fire, with the same\nappearance of indifference as was maintained by his father.\n\nOf these several movements Heyward was a deeply interested and wondering\nobserver. It appeared to him as though the foresters had some secret\nmeans of intelligence, which had escaped the vigilance of his own\nfaculties. In place of that eager and garrulous narration with which a\nwhite youth would have endeavored to communicate, and perhaps\nexaggerate, that which had passed out in the darkness of the plain, the\nyoung warrior was seemingly content to let his deeds speak for\nthemselves. It was, in fact, neither the moment nor the occasion for an\nIndian to boast of his exploits; and it is probable, that had Heyward\nneglected to inquire, not another syllable would, just then, have been\nuttered on the subject.\n\n\"What has become of our enemy, Uncas?\" demanded Duncan: \"we heard your\nrifle, and hoped you had not fired in vain.\"\n\nThe young chief removed a fold of his hunting-shirt, and quietly exposed\nthe fatal tuft of hair, which he bore as the symbol of victory.\nChingachgook laid his hand on the scalp, and considered it for a moment\nwith deep attention. Then dropping it, with disgust depicted in his\nstrong features, he ejaculated,--\n\n\"Oneida!\"\n\n\"Oneida!\" repeated the scout, who was fast losing his interest in the\nscene, in an apathy nearly assimilated to that of his red associates,\nbut who now advanced with uncommon earnestness to regard the bloody\nbadge. \"By the Lord, if the Oneidas are outlying upon the trail, we\nshall be flanked by devils on every side of us! Now, to white eyes there\nis no difference between this bit of skin and that of any other Indian,\nand yet the Sagamore declares it came from the poll of a Mingo; nay, he\neven names the tribe of the poor devil with as much ease as if the scalp\nwas the leaf of a book, and each hair a letter. What right have\nChristian whites to boast of their learning, when a savage can read a\nlanguage that would prove too much for the wisest of them all! What say\n_you_, lad; of what people was the knave?\"\n\nUncas raised his eyes to the face of the scout, and answered, in his\nsoft voice,--\n\n\"Oneida.\"\n\n\"Oneida, again! when one Indian makes a declaration it is commonly true;\nbut when he is supported by his people, set it down as gospel!\"\n\n\"The poor fellow has mistaken us for French,\" said Heyward; \"or he would\nnot have attempted the life of a friend.\"\n\n\"He mistake a Mohican in his paint for a Huron! You would be as likely\nto mistake the white-coated grenadiers of Montcalm for the scarlet\njackets of the 'Royal Americans',\" returned the scout. \"No, no, the\nsarpent knew his errand; nor was there any great mistake in the matter,\nfor there is but little love atween a Delaware and a Mingo, let their\ntribes go out to fight for whom they may, in a white quarrel. For that\nmatter, though the Oneidas do serve his sacred majesty, who is my own\nsovereign lord and master, I should not have deliberated long about\nletting off 'Killdeer' at the imp myself, had luck thrown him in my\nway.\"\n\n\"That would have been an abuse of our treaties, and unworthy of your\ncharacter.\"\n\n\"When a man consorts much with a people,\" continued Hawkeye, \"if they\nare honest and he no knave, love will grow up atwixt them. It is true\nthat white cunning has managed to throw the tribes into great confusion\nas respects friends and enemies; so that the Hurons and the Oneidas, who\nspeak the same tongue, or what may be called the same, take each other's\nscalps, and the Delawares are divided among themselves; a few hanging\nabout their great council-fire on their own river, and fighting on the\nsame side with the Mingos, while the greater part are in the Canadas,\nout of natural enmity to the Maquas--thus throwing everything into\ndisorder, and destroying all the harmony of warfare. Yet a red natur' is\nnot likely to alter with every shift of policy; so that the love atwixt\na Mohican and a Mingo is much like the regard between a white man and a\nsarpent.\"\n\n\"I regret to hear it; for I had believed those natives who dwelt within\nour boundaries had found us too just and liberal, not to identify\nthemselves fully with our quarrels.\"\n\n\"Why, I believe it is natur' to give a preference to one's own quarrels\nbefore those of strangers. Now, for myself, I do love justice; and\ntherefore I will not say I hate a Mingo, for that may be unsuitable to\nmy color and my religion, though I will just repeat, it may have been\nowing to the night that 'Killdeer' had no hand in the death of this\nskulking Oneida.\"\n\nThen, as if satisfied with the force of his own reasons, whatever might\nbe their effect on the opinions of the other disputant, the honest but\nimplacable woodsman turned from the fire, content to let the controversy\nslumber. Heyward withdrew to the rampart, too uneasy and too little\naccustomed to the warfare of the woods to remain at ease under the\npossibility of such insidious attacks. Not so, however, with the scout\nand the Mohicans. Those acute and long practised senses, whose powers so\noften exceed the limits of all ordinary credulity, after having detected\nthe danger, had enabled them to ascertain its magnitude and duration.\nNot one of the three appeared in the least to doubt their perfect\nsecurity, as was indicated by the preparations that were soon made to\nsit in council over their future proceedings.\n\nThe confusion of nations, and even of tribes, to which Hawkeye alluded,\nexisted at that period in the fullest force. The great tie of language,\nand, of course, of a common origin, was severed in many places; and it\nwas one of its consequences, that the Delaware and the Mingo (as the\npeople of the Six Nations were called) were found fighting in the same\nranks, while the latter sought the scalp of the Huron, though believed\nto be the root of his own stock. The Delawares were even divided among\nthemselves. Though love for the soil which had belonged to his ancestors\nkept the Sagamore of the Mohicans with a small band of followers who\nwere serving at Edward, under the banners of the English king, by far\nthe largest portion of his nation were known to be in the field as\nallies of Montcalm. The reader probably knows, if enough has not already\nbeen gleaned from this narrative, that the Delaware, or Lenape, claimed\nto be the progenitors of that numerous people, who once were masters of\nmost of the Eastern and Northern States of America, of whom the\ncommunity of the Mohicans was an ancient and highly honored member.\n\nIt was, of course, with a perfect understanding of the minute and\nintricate interest which had armed friend against friend, and brought\nnatural enemies to combat by each other's side, that the scout and his\ncompanions now disposed themselves to deliberate on the measures that\nwere to govern their future movements, amid so many jarring and savage\nraces of men. Duncan knew enough of Indian customs to understand the\nreason that the fire was replenished, and why the warriors, not\nexcepting Hawkeye, took their seats within the curl of its smoke with\nso much gravity and decorum. Placing himself at an angle of the works,\nwhere he might be a spectator of the scene within, while he kept a\nwatchful eye against any danger from without, he awaited the result with\nas much patience as he could summon.\n\nAfter a short and impressive pause, Chingachgook lighted a pipe whose\nbowl was curiously carved in one of the soft stones of the country, and\nwhose stem was a tube of wood, and commenced smoking. When he had\ninhaled enough of the fragrance of the soothing weed, he passed the\ninstrument into the hands of the scout. In this manner the pipe had made\nits rounds three several times, amid the most profound silence, before\neither of the party opened his lips. Then the Sagamore, as the oldest\nand highest in rank, in a few calm and dignified words, proposed the\nsubject for deliberation. He was answered by the scout; and Chingachgook\nrejoined, when the other objected to his opinions. But the youthful\nUncas continued a silent and respectful listener, until Hawkeye, in\ncomplaisance, demanded his opinion. Heyward gathered from the manners of\nthe different speakers, that the father and son espoused one side of a\ndisputed question, while the white man maintained the other. The contest\ngradually grew warmer, until it was quite evident the feelings of the\nspeakers began to be somewhat enlisted in the debate.\n\nNotwithstanding the increasing warmth of the amicable contest, the most\ndecorous Christian assembly, not even excepting those in which its\nreverend ministers are collected, might have learned a wholesome lesson\nof moderation from the forbearance and courtesy of the disputants. The\nwords of Uncas were received with the same deep attention as those which\nfell from the maturer wisdom of his father; and so far from manifesting\nany impatience, neither spoke in reply, until a few moments of silent\nmeditation were, seemingly, bestowed in deliberating on what had already\nbeen said.\n\nThe language of the Mohicans was accompanied by gestures so direct and\nnatural, that Heyward had but little difficulty in following the thread\nof their argument. On the other hand, the scout was obscure; because,\nfrom the lingering pride of color, he rather affected the cold and\nartificial manner which characterizes all classes of Anglo-Americans,\nwhen unexcited. By the frequency with which the Indians described the\nmarks of a forest trail, it was evident they urged a pursuit by land,\nwhile the repeated sweep of Hawkeye's arm towards the Horican denoted\nthat he was for a passage across its waters.\n\nThe latter was, to every appearance, fast losing ground, and the point\nwas about to be decided against him, when he arose to his feet, and\nshaking off his apathy, he suddenly assumed the manner of an Indian, and\nadopted all the arts of native eloquence. Elevating an arm, he pointed\nout the track of the sun, repeating the gesture for every day that was\nnecessary to accomplish their object. Then he delineated a long and\npainful path, amid rocks and water-courses. The age and weakness of the\nslumbering and unconscious Munro were indicated by signs too palpable to\nbe mistaken. Duncan perceived that even his own powers were spoken\nlightly of, as the scout extended his palm, and mentioned him by\nappellation of the \"Open Hand,\"--a name his liberality had purchased of\nall the friendly tribes. Then came a representation of the light and\ngraceful movements of a canoe, set in forcible contrast to the tottering\nsteps of one enfeebled and tired. He concluded by pointing to the scalp\nof the Oneida, and apparently urging the necessity of their departing\nspeedily, and in a manner that should leave no trail.\n\nThe Mohicans listened gravely, and with countenances that reflected the\nsentiments of the speaker. Conviction gradually wrought its influence,\nand towards the close of Hawkeye's speech, his sentences were\naccompanied by the customary exclamation of commendation. In short,\nUncas and his father became converts to his way of thinking, abandoning\ntheir own previously expressed opinions with a liberality and candor\nthat, had they been the representatives of some great and civilized\npeople, would have infallibly worked their political ruin, by\ndestroying, forever, their reputation for consistency.\n\nThe instant the matter in discussion was decided, the debate, and\neverything connected with it, except the results, appeared to be\nforgotten. Hawkeye, without looking round to read his triumph in\napplauding eyes, very composedly stretched his tall frame before the\ndying embers, and closed his own organs in sleep.\n\nLeft now in a measure to themselves, the Mohicans, whose time had been\nso much devoted to the interests of others, seized the moment to devote\nsome attention to themselves. Casting off, at once, the grave and\naustere demeanor of an Indian chief, Chingachgook commenced speaking to\nhis son in the soft and playful tones of affection. Uncas gladly met\nthe familiar air of his father; and before the hard breathing of the\nscout announced that he slept, a complete change was effected in the\nmanner of his two associates.\n\nIt is impossible to describe the music of their language, while thus\nengaged in laughter and endearments, in such a way as to render it\nintelligible to those whose ears have never listened to its melody. The\ncompass of their voices, particularly that of the youth, was\nwonderful,--extending from the deepest bass to tones that were even\nfeminine in softness. The eyes of the father followed the plastic and\ningenious movements of the son with open delight, and he never failed to\nsmile in reply to the other's contagious, but low laughter. While under\nthe influence of these gentle and natural feelings, no trace of ferocity\nwas to be seen in the softened features of the Sagamore. His figured\npanoply of death looked more like a disguise assumed in mockery, than a\nfierce annunciation of a desire to carry destruction in his footsteps.\n\nAfter an hour passed in the indulgence of their better feelings,\nChingachgook abruptly announced his desire to sleep, by wrapping his\nhead in his blanket, and stretching his form on the naked earth. The\nmerriment of Uncas instantly ceased; and carefully raking the coals in\nsuch a manner that they should impart their warmth to his father's feet,\nthe youth sought his own pillow among the ruins of the place.\n\nImbibing renewed confidence from the security of these experienced\nforesters, Heyward soon imitated their example; and long before the\nnight had turned, they who lay in the bosom of the ruined work, seemed\nto slumber as heavily as the unconscious multitude whose bones were\nalready beginning to bleach on the surrounding plain.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?\nA: The group spends the night around a fire in the desolate ruins of the fort. They eat bear meat for dinner. Looking out at the lake, Heyward hears noises. Uncas explain that wolves are prowling nearby. Hawkeye is pondering the meaning of paradise when he hears another sound. Uncas goes to investigate, and the group hears a rifle shot. Chingachgook follows his son, and those left behind hear a splash of water and another rifle shot. Chingachgook and Uncas return calmly. When Heyward asks what happened, Uncas shows him the scalp of an Oneida. After discussing the plan for the next day, the group falls asleep\n\n","prompt":"Chapter: \"_Salar._--Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou wilt not take his\n    flesh; what's that good for?\"\n\n  \"_Shy._--To bait fish withal: if it will feed nothing else, it will\n    feed my revenge.\"\n\n  _Merchant of Venice._\n\n\nThe shades of evening had come to increase the dreariness of the place,\nwhen the party entered the ruins of William Henry. The scout and his\ncompanions immediately made their preparations to pass the night there;\nbut with an earnestness and sobriety of demeanor, that betrayed how much\nthe unusual horrors they had just witnessed worked on even their\npractised feelings. A few fragments of rafters were reared against a\nblackened wall; and when Uncas had covered them slightly with brush, the\ntemporary accommodations were deemed sufficient. The young Indian\npointed towards his rude hut, when his labor was ended; and Heyward, who\nunderstood the meaning of the silent gesture, gently urged Munro to\nenter. Leaving the bereaved old man alone with his sorrows, Duncan\nimmediately returned to the open air, too much excited himself to seek\nthe repose he had recommended to his veteran friend.\n\nWhile Hawkeye and the Indians lighted their fire, and took their\nevening's repast, a frugal meal of dried bear's meat, the young man paid\na visit to that curtain of the dilapidated fort which looked out on the\nsheet of the Horican. The wind had fallen, and the waves were already\nrolling on the sandy beach beneath him, in a more regular and tempered\nsuccession. The clouds, as if tired of their furious chase, were\nbreaking asunder; the heavier volumes, gathering in black masses about\nthe horizon, while the lighter scud still hurried above the water, or\neddied among the tops of the mountains, like broken flights of birds,\nhovering around their roosts. Here and there, a red and fiery star\nstruggled through the drifting vapor, furnishing a lurid gleam of\nbrightness to the dull aspect of the heavens. Within the bosom of the\nencircling hills, an impenetrable darkness had already settled; and the\nplain lay like a vast and deserted charnel-house, without omen or\nwhisper to disturb the slumbers of its numerous and hapless tenants.\n\nOf this scene, so chillingly in accordance with the past, Duncan stood\nfor many minutes a rapt observer. His eyes wandered from the bosom of\nthe mound, where the foresters were seated around their glimmering fire,\nto the fainter light which still lingered in the skies, and then rested\nlong and anxiously on the embodied gloom, which lay like a dreary void\non that side of him where the dead reposed. He soon fancied that\ninexplicable sounds arose from the place, though so indistinct and\nstolen, as to render not only their nature but even their existence\nuncertain. Ashamed of his apprehensions, the young man turned towards\nthe water, and strove to divert his attentions to the mimic stars that\ndimly glimmered on its moving surface. Still, his too conscious ears\nperformed their ungrateful duty, as if to warn him of some lurking\ndanger. At length a swift trampling seemed quite audibly to rush athwart\nthe darkness. Unable any longer to quiet his uneasiness, Duncan spoke in\na low voice to the scout, requesting him to ascend the mound to the\nplace where he stood. Hawkeye threw his rifle across an arm, and\ncomplied, but with an air so unmoved and calm, as to prove how much he\ncounted on the security of their position.\n\n\"Listen!\" said Duncan, when the other placed himself deliberately at his\nelbow: \"there are suppressed noises on the plain which may show that\nMontcalm has not yet entirely deserted his conquest.\"\n\n\"Then ears are better than eyes,\" said the undisturbed scout, who,\nhaving just deposited a portion of bear between his grinders, spoke\nthick and slow, like one whose mouth was doubly occupied. \"I, myself,\nsaw him caged in Ty, with all his host; for your Frenchers, when they\nhave done a clever thing, like to get back, and have a dance, or a\nmerry-making, with the women over their success.\"\n\n\"I know not. An Indian seldom sleeps in war, and plunder may keep a\nHuron here after his tribe has departed. It would be well to extinguish\nthe fire, and have a watch--listen! you hear the noise I mean!\"\n\n\"An Indian more rarely lurks about the graves. Though ready to slay, and\nnot over-regardful of the means, he is commonly content with the scalp,\nunless when blood is hot, and temper up; but after the spirit is once\nfairly gone, he forgets his enmity, and is willing to let the dead find\ntheir natural rest. Speaking of spirits, Major, are you of opinion that\nthe heaven of a redskin and of us whites will be one and the same?\"\n\n\"No doubt--no doubt. I thought I heard it again! or was it the rustling\nof the leaves in the top of the beech?\"\n\n\"For my own part,\" continued Hawkeye, turning his face, for a moment, in\nthe direction indicated by Heyward, but with a vacant and careless\nmanner, \"I believe that paradise is ordained for happiness; and that men\nwill be indulged in it according to their dispositions and gifts. I\ntherefore judge that a redskin is not far from the truth when he\nbelieves he is to find them glorious hunting-grounds of which his\ntraditions tell; nor, for that matter, do I think it would be any\ndisparagement to a man without a cross to pass his time--\"\n\n\"You hear it again?\" interrupted Duncan.\n\n\"Ay, ay; when food is scarce, and when food is plenty, a wolf grows\nbold,\" said the unmoved scout. \"There would be picking, too, among the\nskins of the devils, if there was light and time for the sport. But,\nconcerning the life that is to come, major: I have heard preachers say,\nin the settlements, that heaven was a place of rest. Now men's minds\ndiffer as to their ideas of enjoyment. For myself, and I say it with\nreverence to the ordering of Providence, it would be no great indulgence\nto be kept shut up in those mansions of which they preach, having a\nnatural longing for motion and the chase.\"\n\nDuncan, who was now made to understand the nature of the noises he had\nheard, answered with more attention to the subject which the humor of\nthe scout had chosen for discussion, by saying,--\n\n\"It is difficult to account for the feelings that may attend the last\ngreat change.\"\n\n\"It would be a change, indeed, for a man who has passed his days in the\nopen air,\" returned the single-minded scout; \"and who has so often\nbroken his fast on the head-waters of the Hudson, to sleep within sound\nof the roaring Mohawk. But it is a comfort to know we serve a merciful\nMaster, though we do it each after his fashion, and with great tracts of\nwilderness atween us--what goes there?\"\n\n\"Is it not the rushing of the wolves you have mentioned?\"\n\nHawkeye slowly shook his head, and beckoned for Duncan to follow him to\na spot, to which the glare from the fire did not extend. When he had\ntaken this precaution, the scout placed himself in an attitude of\nintense attention, and listened long and keenly for a repetition of the\nlow sound that had so unexpectedly startled him. His vigilance, however,\nseemed exercised in vain; for, after a fruitless pause, he whispered to\nDuncan,--\n\n\"We must give a call to Uncas. The boy has Indian senses, and may hear\nwhat is hid from us; for being a white-skin, I will not deny my nature.\"\n\nThe young Mohican, who was conversing in a low voice with his father,\nstarted as he heard the moaning of an owl, and springing on his feet he\nlooked towards the black mounds, as if seeking the place whence the\nsounds proceeded. The scout repeated the call, and in a few moments,\nDuncan saw the figure of Uncas stealing cautiously along the rampart, to\nthe spot where they stood.\n\nHawkeye explained his wishes in a very few words, which were spoken in\nthe Delaware tongue. So soon as Uncas was in possession of the reason\nwhy he was summoned, he threw himself flat on the turf; where, to the\neyes of Duncan, he appeared to lie quiet and motionless. Surprised at\nthe immovable attitude of the young warrior, and curious to observe the\nmanner in which he employed his faculties to obtain the desired\ninformation, Heyward advanced a few steps, and bent over the dark\nobject, on which he had kept his eyes riveted. Then it was he discovered\nthat the form of Uncas had vanished, and that he beheld only the dark\noutline of an inequality in the embankment.\n\n\"What has become of the Mohican?\" he demanded of the scout, stepping\nback in amazement; \"it was here that I saw him fall, and I could have\nsworn that here he yet remained.\"\n\n\"Hist! speak lower; for we know not what ears are open, and the Mingos\nare a quick-witted breed. As for Uncas, he is out on the plain, and the\nMaquas, if any such are about us, will find their equal.\"\n\n\"You think that Montcalm has not called off all his Indians? Let us give\nthe alarm to our companions, that we may stand to our arms. Here are\nfive of us, who are not unused to meet an enemy.\"\n\n\"Not a word to either, as you value life. Look at the Sagamore, how like\na grand Indian chief he sits by the fire. If there are any skulkers out\nin the darkness, they will never discover by his countenance that we\nsuspect danger at hand.\"\n\n\"But they may discover him, and it will prove his death. His person can\nbe too plainly seen by the light of that fire, and he will become the\nfirst and most certain victim.\"\n\n\"It is undeniable that now you speak the truth,\" returned the scout,\nbetraying more anxiety than was usual; \"yet what can be done? A single\nsuspicious look might bring on an attack before we are ready to receive\nit. He knows, by the call I gave to Uncas, that we have struck a scent:\nI will tell him that we are on the trail of the Mingos; his Indian\nnature will teach him how to act.\"\n\nThe scout applied his fingers to his mouth, and raised a low hissing\nsound, that caused Duncan, at first, to start aside, believing that he\nheard a serpent. The head of Chingachgook was resting on a hand, as he\nsat musing by himself; but the moment he heard the warning of the animal\nwhose name he bore, it arose to an upright position and his dark eyes\nglanced swiftly and keenly on every side of him. With this sudden and\nperhaps involuntary movement, every appearance of surprise or alarm\nended. His rifle lay untouched, and apparently unnoticed, within reach\nof his hand. The tomahawk that he had loosened in his belt for the sake\nof ease, was even suffered to fall from its usual situation to the\nground, and his form seemed to sink, like that of a man whose nerves and\nsinews were suffered to relax for the purpose of rest. Cunningly\nresuming his former position, though with a change of hands, as if the\nmovement had been made merely to relieve the limb, the native awaited\nthe result with a calmness and fortitude that none but an Indian warrior\nwould have known how to exercise.\n\nBut Heyward saw that while to a less instructed eye the Mohican chief\nappeared to slumber, his nostrils were expanded, his head was turned a\nlittle to one side, as if to assist the organs of hearing, and that his\nquick and rapid glances ran incessantly over every object, within the\npower of his vision.\n\n\"See the noble fellow!\" whispered Hawkeye, pressing the arm of Heyward;\n\"he knows that a look or a motion might discansart our schemes, and put\nus at the mercy of them imps--\"\n\nHe was interrupted by the flash and report of a rifle. The air was\nfilled with sparks of fire around that spot where the eyes of Heyward\nwere still fastened with admiration and wonder. A second look told him\nthat Chingachgook had disappeared in the confusion. In the meantime the\nscout had thrown forward his rifle, like one prepared for service, and\nawaited impatiently the moment when an enemy might rise to view. But\nwith the solitary and fruitless attempt made on the life of\nChingachgook, the attack appeared to have terminated. Once or twice the\nlisteners thought they could distinguish the distant rustling of bushes,\nas bodies of some unknown description rushed through them; nor was it\nlong before Hawkeye pointed out the \"scampering of the wolves,\" as they\nfled precipitately before the passage of some intruder on their proper\ndomains. After an impatient and breathless pause, a plunge was heard in\nthe water, and it was immediately followed by the report of another\nrifle.\n\n\"There goes Uncas!\" said the scout; \"the boy bears a smart piece! I know\nits crack, as well as a father knows the language of his child, for I\ncarried the gun myself until a better offered.\"\n\n\"What can this mean?\" demanded Duncan; \"we are watched, and, as it would\nseem, marked for destruction.\"\n\n\"Yonder scattered brand can witness that no good was intended, and this\nIndian will testify that no harm has been done,\" returned the scout,\ndropping his rifle across his arm again, and following Chingachgook, who\njust then reappeared within the circle of light, into the bosom of the\nworks. \"How is it, Sagamore? Are the Mingos upon us in earnest, or is it\nonly one of those rept_y_les who hang upon the skirts of a war party, to\nscalp the dead, go in, and make their boast among the squaws of the\nvaliant deeds done on the pale-faces?\"\n\nChingachgook very quietly resumed his seat; nor did he make any reply,\nuntil after he had examined the firebrand which had been struck by the\nbullet that had nearly proved fatal to himself. After which, he was\ncontent to reply, holding a single finger up to view, with the English\nmonosyllable,--\n\n\"One.\"\n\n\"I thought as much,\" returned Hawkeye, seating himself; \"and as he had\ngot the cover of the lake afore Uncas pulled upon him, it is more than\nprobable the knave will sing his lies about some great ambushment, in\nwhich he was outlying on the trail of two Mohicans and a white\nhunter--for the officers can be considered as little better than idlers\nin such a scrimmage. Well, let him--let him. There are always some\nhonest men in every nation, though heaven knows, too, that they are\nscarce among the Maquas, to look down an upstart when he brags ag'in\nthe face of reason. The varlet sent his lead within whistle of your\nears, Sagamore.\"\n\nChingachgook turned a calm and incurious eye towards the place where the\nball had struck, and then resumed his former attitude, with a composure\nthat could not be disturbed by so trifling an incident. Just then Uncas\nglided into the circle, and seated himself at the fire, with the same\nappearance of indifference as was maintained by his father.\n\nOf these several movements Heyward was a deeply interested and wondering\nobserver. It appeared to him as though the foresters had some secret\nmeans of intelligence, which had escaped the vigilance of his own\nfaculties. In place of that eager and garrulous narration with which a\nwhite youth would have endeavored to communicate, and perhaps\nexaggerate, that which had passed out in the darkness of the plain, the\nyoung warrior was seemingly content to let his deeds speak for\nthemselves. It was, in fact, neither the moment nor the occasion for an\nIndian to boast of his exploits; and it is probable, that had Heyward\nneglected to inquire, not another syllable would, just then, have been\nuttered on the subject.\n\n\"What has become of our enemy, Uncas?\" demanded Duncan: \"we heard your\nrifle, and hoped you had not fired in vain.\"\n\nThe young chief removed a fold of his hunting-shirt, and quietly exposed\nthe fatal tuft of hair, which he bore as the symbol of victory.\nChingachgook laid his hand on the scalp, and considered it for a moment\nwith deep attention. Then dropping it, with disgust depicted in his\nstrong features, he ejaculated,--\n\n\"Oneida!\"\n\n\"Oneida!\" repeated the scout, who was fast losing his interest in the\nscene, in an apathy nearly assimilated to that of his red associates,\nbut who now advanced with uncommon earnestness to regard the bloody\nbadge. \"By the Lord, if the Oneidas are outlying upon the trail, we\nshall be flanked by devils on every side of us! Now, to white eyes there\nis no difference between this bit of skin and that of any other Indian,\nand yet the Sagamore declares it came from the poll of a Mingo; nay, he\neven names the tribe of the poor devil with as much ease as if the scalp\nwas the leaf of a book, and each hair a letter. What right have\nChristian whites to boast of their learning, when a savage can read a\nlanguage that would prove too much for the wisest of them all! What say\n_you_, lad; of what people was the knave?\"\n\nUncas raised his eyes to the face of the scout, and answered, in his\nsoft voice,--\n\n\"Oneida.\"\n\n\"Oneida, again! when one Indian makes a declaration it is commonly true;\nbut when he is supported by his people, set it down as gospel!\"\n\n\"The poor fellow has mistaken us for French,\" said Heyward; \"or he would\nnot have attempted the life of a friend.\"\n\n\"He mistake a Mohican in his paint for a Huron! You would be as likely\nto mistake the white-coated grenadiers of Montcalm for the scarlet\njackets of the 'Royal Americans',\" returned the scout. \"No, no, the\nsarpent knew his errand; nor was there any great mistake in the matter,\nfor there is but little love atween a Delaware and a Mingo, let their\ntribes go out to fight for whom they may, in a white quarrel. For that\nmatter, though the Oneidas do serve his sacred majesty, who is my own\nsovereign lord and master, I should not have deliberated long about\nletting off 'Killdeer' at the imp myself, had luck thrown him in my\nway.\"\n\n\"That would have been an abuse of our treaties, and unworthy of your\ncharacter.\"\n\n\"When a man consorts much with a people,\" continued Hawkeye, \"if they\nare honest and he no knave, love will grow up atwixt them. It is true\nthat white cunning has managed to throw the tribes into great confusion\nas respects friends and enemies; so that the Hurons and the Oneidas, who\nspeak the same tongue, or what may be called the same, take each other's\nscalps, and the Delawares are divided among themselves; a few hanging\nabout their great council-fire on their own river, and fighting on the\nsame side with the Mingos, while the greater part are in the Canadas,\nout of natural enmity to the Maquas--thus throwing everything into\ndisorder, and destroying all the harmony of warfare. Yet a red natur' is\nnot likely to alter with every shift of policy; so that the love atwixt\na Mohican and a Mingo is much like the regard between a white man and a\nsarpent.\"\n\n\"I regret to hear it; for I had believed those natives who dwelt within\nour boundaries had found us too just and liberal, not to identify\nthemselves fully with our quarrels.\"\n\n\"Why, I believe it is natur' to give a preference to one's own quarrels\nbefore those of strangers. Now, for myself, I do love justice; and\ntherefore I will not say I hate a Mingo, for that may be unsuitable to\nmy color and my religion, though I will just repeat, it may have been\nowing to the night that 'Killdeer' had no hand in the death of this\nskulking Oneida.\"\n\nThen, as if satisfied with the force of his own reasons, whatever might\nbe their effect on the opinions of the other disputant, the honest but\nimplacable woodsman turned from the fire, content to let the controversy\nslumber. Heyward withdrew to the rampart, too uneasy and too little\naccustomed to the warfare of the woods to remain at ease under the\npossibility of such insidious attacks. Not so, however, with the scout\nand the Mohicans. Those acute and long practised senses, whose powers so\noften exceed the limits of all ordinary credulity, after having detected\nthe danger, had enabled them to ascertain its magnitude and duration.\nNot one of the three appeared in the least to doubt their perfect\nsecurity, as was indicated by the preparations that were soon made to\nsit in council over their future proceedings.\n\nThe confusion of nations, and even of tribes, to which Hawkeye alluded,\nexisted at that period in the fullest force. The great tie of language,\nand, of course, of a common origin, was severed in many places; and it\nwas one of its consequences, that the Delaware and the Mingo (as the\npeople of the Six Nations were called) were found fighting in the same\nranks, while the latter sought the scalp of the Huron, though believed\nto be the root of his own stock. The Delawares were even divided among\nthemselves. Though love for the soil which had belonged to his ancestors\nkept the Sagamore of the Mohicans with a small band of followers who\nwere serving at Edward, under the banners of the English king, by far\nthe largest portion of his nation were known to be in the field as\nallies of Montcalm. The reader probably knows, if enough has not already\nbeen gleaned from this narrative, that the Delaware, or Lenape, claimed\nto be the progenitors of that numerous people, who once were masters of\nmost of the Eastern and Northern States of America, of whom the\ncommunity of the Mohicans was an ancient and highly honored member.\n\nIt was, of course, with a perfect understanding of the minute and\nintricate interest which had armed friend against friend, and brought\nnatural enemies to combat by each other's side, that the scout and his\ncompanions now disposed themselves to deliberate on the measures that\nwere to govern their future movements, amid so many jarring and savage\nraces of men. Duncan knew enough of Indian customs to understand the\nreason that the fire was replenished, and why the warriors, not\nexcepting Hawkeye, took their seats within the curl of its smoke with\nso much gravity and decorum. Placing himself at an angle of the works,\nwhere he might be a spectator of the scene within, while he kept a\nwatchful eye against any danger from without, he awaited the result with\nas much patience as he could summon.\n\nAfter a short and impressive pause, Chingachgook lighted a pipe whose\nbowl was curiously carved in one of the soft stones of the country, and\nwhose stem was a tube of wood, and commenced smoking. When he had\ninhaled enough of the fragrance of the soothing weed, he passed the\ninstrument into the hands of the scout. In this manner the pipe had made\nits rounds three several times, amid the most profound silence, before\neither of the party opened his lips. Then the Sagamore, as the oldest\nand highest in rank, in a few calm and dignified words, proposed the\nsubject for deliberation. He was answered by the scout; and Chingachgook\nrejoined, when the other objected to his opinions. But the youthful\nUncas continued a silent and respectful listener, until Hawkeye, in\ncomplaisance, demanded his opinion. Heyward gathered from the manners of\nthe different speakers, that the father and son espoused one side of a\ndisputed question, while the white man maintained the other. The contest\ngradually grew warmer, until it was quite evident the feelings of the\nspeakers began to be somewhat enlisted in the debate.\n\nNotwithstanding the increasing warmth of the amicable contest, the most\ndecorous Christian assembly, not even excepting those in which its\nreverend ministers are collected, might have learned a wholesome lesson\nof moderation from the forbearance and courtesy of the disputants. The\nwords of Uncas were received with the same deep attention as those which\nfell from the maturer wisdom of his father; and so far from manifesting\nany impatience, neither spoke in reply, until a few moments of silent\nmeditation were, seemingly, bestowed in deliberating on what had already\nbeen said.\n\nThe language of the Mohicans was accompanied by gestures so direct and\nnatural, that Heyward had but little difficulty in following the thread\nof their argument. On the other hand, the scout was obscure; because,\nfrom the lingering pride of color, he rather affected the cold and\nartificial manner which characterizes all classes of Anglo-Americans,\nwhen unexcited. By the frequency with which the Indians described the\nmarks of a forest trail, it was evident they urged a pursuit by land,\nwhile the repeated sweep of Hawkeye's arm towards the Horican denoted\nthat he was for a passage across its waters.\n\nThe latter was, to every appearance, fast losing ground, and the point\nwas about to be decided against him, when he arose to his feet, and\nshaking off his apathy, he suddenly assumed the manner of an Indian, and\nadopted all the arts of native eloquence. Elevating an arm, he pointed\nout the track of the sun, repeating the gesture for every day that was\nnecessary to accomplish their object. Then he delineated a long and\npainful path, amid rocks and water-courses. The age and weakness of the\nslumbering and unconscious Munro were indicated by signs too palpable to\nbe mistaken. Duncan perceived that even his own powers were spoken\nlightly of, as the scout extended his palm, and mentioned him by\nappellation of the \"Open Hand,\"--a name his liberality had purchased of\nall the friendly tribes. Then came a representation of the light and\ngraceful movements of a canoe, set in forcible contrast to the tottering\nsteps of one enfeebled and tired. He concluded by pointing to the scalp\nof the Oneida, and apparently urging the necessity of their departing\nspeedily, and in a manner that should leave no trail.\n\nThe Mohicans listened gravely, and with countenances that reflected the\nsentiments of the speaker. Conviction gradually wrought its influence,\nand towards the close of Hawkeye's speech, his sentences were\naccompanied by the customary exclamation of commendation. In short,\nUncas and his father became converts to his way of thinking, abandoning\ntheir own previously expressed opinions with a liberality and candor\nthat, had they been the representatives of some great and civilized\npeople, would have infallibly worked their political ruin, by\ndestroying, forever, their reputation for consistency.\n\nThe instant the matter in discussion was decided, the debate, and\neverything connected with it, except the results, appeared to be\nforgotten. Hawkeye, without looking round to read his triumph in\napplauding eyes, very composedly stretched his tall frame before the\ndying embers, and closed his own organs in sleep.\n\nLeft now in a measure to themselves, the Mohicans, whose time had been\nso much devoted to the interests of others, seized the moment to devote\nsome attention to themselves. Casting off, at once, the grave and\naustere demeanor of an Indian chief, Chingachgook commenced speaking to\nhis son in the soft and playful tones of affection. Uncas gladly met\nthe familiar air of his father; and before the hard breathing of the\nscout announced that he slept, a complete change was effected in the\nmanner of his two associates.\n\nIt is impossible to describe the music of their language, while thus\nengaged in laughter and endearments, in such a way as to render it\nintelligible to those whose ears have never listened to its melody. The\ncompass of their voices, particularly that of the youth, was\nwonderful,--extending from the deepest bass to tones that were even\nfeminine in softness. The eyes of the father followed the plastic and\ningenious movements of the son with open delight, and he never failed to\nsmile in reply to the other's contagious, but low laughter. While under\nthe influence of these gentle and natural feelings, no trace of ferocity\nwas to be seen in the softened features of the Sagamore. His figured\npanoply of death looked more like a disguise assumed in mockery, than a\nfierce annunciation of a desire to carry destruction in his footsteps.\n\nAfter an hour passed in the indulgence of their better feelings,\nChingachgook abruptly announced his desire to sleep, by wrapping his\nhead in his blanket, and stretching his form on the naked earth. The\nmerriment of Uncas instantly ceased; and carefully raking the coals in\nsuch a manner that they should impart their warmth to his father's feet,\nthe youth sought his own pillow among the ruins of the place.\n\nImbibing renewed confidence from the security of these experienced\nforesters, Heyward soon imitated their example; and long before the\nnight had turned, they who lay in the bosom of the ruined work, seemed\nto slumber as heavily as the unconscious multitude whose bones were\nalready beginning to bleach on the surrounding plain.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?\nA:","completion":" The group spends the night around a fire in the desolate ruins of the fort. They eat bear meat for dinner. Looking out at the lake, Heyward hears noises. Uncas explain that wolves are prowling nearby. Hawkeye is pondering the meaning of paradise when he hears another sound. Uncas goes to investigate, and the group hears a rifle shot. Chingachgook follows his son, and those left behind hear a splash of water and another rifle shot. Chingachgook and Uncas return calmly. When Heyward asks what happened, Uncas shows him the scalp of an Oneida. After discussing the plan for the next day, the group falls asleep\n\n"},"truncated_cells":[]},{"row_idx":44,"row":{"text":"Chapter: \"Land of Albania! let me bend mine eyes\n  On thee, thou rugged nurse of savage men!\"\n\n  _Childe Harold._\n\n\nThe heavens were still studded with stars, when Hawkeye came to arouse\nthe sleepers. Casting aside their cloaks Munro and Heyward were on their\nfeet while the woodsman was still making his low calls, at the entrance\nof the rude shelter where they had passed the night. When they issued\nfrom beneath its concealment, they found the scout awaiting their\nappearance nigh by, and the only salutation between them was the\nsignificant gesture for silence, made by their sagacious leader.\n\n\"Think over your prayers,\" he whispered, as they approached him; \"for He\nto whom you make them knows all tongues; that of the heart as well as\nthose of the mouth. But speak not a syllable; it is rare for a white\nvoice to pitch itself properly in the woods, as we have seen by the\nexample of that miserable devil, the singer. Come,\" he continued,\nturning towards a curtain of the works; \"let us get into the ditch on\nthis side, and be regardful to step on the stones and fragments of wood\nas you go.\"\n\nHis companions complied, though to two of them the reasons of this\nextraordinary precaution were yet a mystery. When they were in the low\ncavity that surrounded the earthen fort on three sides, they found the\npassage nearly choked by the ruins. With care and patience, however,\nthey succeeded in clambering after the scout, until they reached the\nsandy shore of the Horican.\n\n\"That's a trail that nothing but a nose can follow,\" said the satisfied\nscout, looking back along their difficult way; \"grass is a treacherous\ncarpet for a flying party to tread on, but wood and stone take no print\nfrom a moccasin. Had you worn your armed boots, there might, indeed,\nhave been something to fear; but with the deer-skin suitably prepared, a\nman may trust himself, generally, on rocks with safety. Shove in the\ncanoe nigher to the land, Uncas; this sand will take a stamp as easily\nas the butter of the Jarmans on the Mohawk. Softly, lad, softly; it must\nnot touch the beach, or the knaves will know by what road we have left\nthe place.\"\n\nThe young man observed the precaution; and the scout, laying a board\nfrom the ruins to the canoe, made a sign for the two officers to enter.\nWhen this was done, everything was studiously restored to its former\ndisorder; and then Hawkeye succeeded in reaching his little birchen\nvessel, without leaving behind him any of those marks which he appeared\nso much to dread. Heyward was silent, until the Indians had cautiously\npaddled the canoe some distance from the fort, and within the broad and\ndark shadow that fell from the eastern mountain on the glassy surface of\nthe lake; then he demanded,--\n\n\"What need have we for this stolen and hurried departure?\"\n\n\"If the blood of an Oneida could stain such a sheet of pure water as\nthis we float on,\" returned the scout, \"your two eyes would answer your\nown question. Have you forgotten the skulking rept_y_le that Uncas\nslew?\"\n\n\"By no means. But he was said to be alone, and dead men give no cause\nfor fear.\"\n\n\"Ay, he was alone in his deviltry! but an Indian whose tribe counts so\nmany warriors, need seldom fear his blood will run, without the\ndeath-shriek coming speedily from some of his enemies.\"\n\n\"But our presence--the authority of Colonel Munro--would prove a\nsufficient protection against the anger of our allies, especially in a\ncase where a wretch so well merited his fate. I trust in Heaven you have\nnot deviated a single foot from the direct line of our course, with so\nslight a reason!\"\n\n\"Do you think the bullet of that varlet's rifle would have turned aside,\nthough his majesty the king had stood in its path?\" returned the\nstubborn scout. \"Why did not the grand Frencher, he who is\ncaptain-general of the Canadas, bury the tomahawks of the Hurons, if a\nword from a white can work so strongly on the natur' of an Indian?\"\n\nThe reply of Heyward was interrupted by a groan from Munro; but after he\nhad paused a moment, in deference to the sorrow of his aged friend, he\nresumed the subject.\n\n\"The Marquis of Montcalm can only settle that error with his God,\" said\nthe young man solemnly.\n\n\"Ay, ay; now there is reason in your words, for they are bottomed on\nreligion and honesty. There is a vast difference between throwing a\nregiment of white coats atwixt the tribes and the prisoners, and coaxing\nan angry savage to forget he carries a knife and a rifle, with words\nthat must begin with calling him your son. No, no,\" continued the scout,\nlooking back at the dim shore of William Henry, which was now fast\nreceding, and laughing in his own silent but heartfelt manner; \"I have\nput a trail of water atween us; and unless the imps can make friends\nwith the fishes, and hear who has paddled across their basin, this fine\nmorning, we shall throw the length of the Horican behind us, before they\nhave made up their minds which path to take.\"\n\n\"With foes in front, and foes in our rear, our journey is like to be one\nof danger.\"\n\n\"Danger!\" repeated Hawkeye, calmly; \"no, not absolutely of danger; for,\nwith vigilant ears and quick eyes, we can manage to keep a few hours\nahead of the knaves; or, if we must try the rifle, there are three of us\nwho understand its gifts as well as any you can name on the borders. No,\nnot of danger; but that we shall have what you may call a brisk push of\nit is probable; and it may happen, a brush, a skrimmage, or some such\ndivarsion, but always where covers are good, and ammunition abundant.\"\n\nIt is possible that Heyward's estimate of danger differed in some degree\nfrom that of the scout, for, instead of replying, he now sat in silence,\nwhile the canoe glided over several miles of water. Just as the day\ndawned, they entered the narrows of the lake,[23] and stole swiftly and\ncautiously among their numberless little islands. It was by this road\nthat Montcalm had retired with his army; and the adventurers knew not\nbut he had left some of his Indians in ambush, to protect the rear of\nhis forces, and collect the stragglers. They, therefore, approached the\npassage with the customary silence of their guarded habits.\n\nChingachgook laid aside his paddle; while Uncas and the scout urged the\nlight vessel through crooked and intricate channels, where every foot\nthat they advanced exposed them to the danger of some sudden rising on\ntheir progress. The eyes of the Sagamore moved warily from islet to\nislet, and copse to copse, as the canoe proceeded; and when a clearer\nsheet of water permitted, his keen vision was bent along the bald rocks\nand impending forests, that frowned upon the narrow strait.\n\nHeyward, who was a doubly interested spectator, as well from the\nbeauties of the place as from the apprehension natural to his situation,\nwas just believing that he had permitted the latter to be excited\nwithout sufficient reason, when the paddle ceased moving, in obedience\nto a signal from Chingachgook.\n\n\"Hugh!\" exclaimed Uncas, nearly at the moment that the light tap his\nfather had made on the side of the canoe notified them of the vicinity\nof danger.\n\n\"What now?\" asked the scout; \"the lake is as smooth as if the winds had\nnever blown, and I can see along its sheet for miles; there is not so\nmuch as the black head of a loon dotting the water.\"\n\nThe Indian gravely raised his paddle, and pointed in the direction in\nwhich his own steady look was riveted. Duncan's eyes followed the\nmotion. A few rods in their front lay another of the low wooded islets,\nbut it appeared as calm and peaceful as if its solitude had never been\ndisturbed by the foot of man.\n\n\"I see nothing,\" he said, \"but land and water; and a lovely scene it\nis.\"\n\n\"Hist!\" interrupted the scout. \"Ay, Sagamore, there is always a reason\nfor what you do. 'Tis but a shade, and yet it is not natural. You see\nthe mist, major, that is rising above the island; you can't call it a\nfog, for it is more like a streak of thin cloud--\"\n\n\"It is vapor from the water.\"\n\n\"That a child could tell. But what is the edging of blacker smoke that\nhangs along its lower side, and which you may trace down into the\nthicket of hazel? 'Tis from a fire; but one that, in my judgment, has\nbeen suffered to burn low.\"\n\n\"Let us then push for the place, and relieve our doubts,\" said the\nimpatient Duncan; \"the party must be small that can lie on such a bit of\nland.\"\n\n\"If you judge of Indian cunning by the rules you find in books, or by\nwhite sagacity, they will lead you astray, if not to your death,\"\nreturned Hawkeye, examining the signs of the place with that acuteness\nwhich distinguished him. \"If I may be permitted to speak in this matter,\nit will be to say, that we have but two things to choose between: the\none is, to return, and give up all thoughts of following the Hurons--\"\n\n\"Never!\" exclaimed Heyward, in a voice far too loud for their\ncircumstances.\n\n\"Well, well,\" continued Hawkeye, making a hasty sign to repress his\nimpatience; \"I am much of your mind myself; though I thought it becoming\nmy experience to tell the whole. We must then make a push, and if the\nIndians or Frenchers are in the narrows, run the gauntlet through these\ntoppling mountains. Is there reason in my words, Sagamore?\"\n\nThe Indian made no other answer than by dropping his paddle into the\nwater, and urging forward the canoe. As he held the office of directing\nits course, his resolution was sufficiently indicated by the movement.\nThe whole party now plied their paddles vigorously, and in a very few\nmoments they had reached a point whence they might command an entire\nview of the northern shore of the island, the side that had hitherto\nbeen concealed.\n\n\"There they are, by all the truth of signs,\" whispered the scout; \"two\ncanoes and a smoke. The knaves haven't yet got their eyes out of the\nmist, or we should hear the accursed whoop. Together, friend! we are\nleaving them, and are already nearly out of whistle of a bullet.\"\n\nThe well known crack of a rifle, whose ball came skipping along the\nplacid surface of the strait, and a shrill yell from the island,\ninterrupted his speech, and announced that their passage was discovered.\nIn another instant several savages were seen rushing into the canoes,\nwhich were soon dancing over the water, in pursuit. These fearful\nprecursors of a coming struggle produced no change in the countenances\nand movements of his three guides, so far as Duncan could discover,\nexcept that the strokes of their paddles were longer and more in unison,\nand caused the little bark to spring forward like a creature possessing\nlife and volition.\n\n\"Hold them there, Sagamore,\" said Hawkeye, looking coolly backward over\nhis left shoulder, while he still plied his paddle; \"keep them just\nthere. Them Hurons have never a piece in their nation that will execute\nat this distance; but 'Killdeer' has a barrel on which a man may\ncalculate.\"\n\nThe scout having ascertained that the Mohicans were sufficient of\nthemselves to maintain the requisite distance, deliberately laid aside\nhis paddle, and raised the fatal rifle. Three several times he brought\nthe piece to his shoulder, and when his companions were expecting its\nreport, he as often lowered it to request the Indians would permit their\nenemies to approach a little nigher. At length his accurate and\nfastidious eye seemed satisfied, and throwing out his left arm on the\nbarrel, he was slowly elevating the muzzle, when an exclamation from\nUncas, who sat in the bow, once more caused him to suspend the shot.\n\n\"What now, lad?\" demanded Hawkeye; \"you saved a Huron from the\ndeath-shriek by that word; have you reason for what you do?\"\n\nUncas pointed towards the rocky shore a little in their front, whence\nanother war canoe was darting directly across their course. It was too\nobvious now that their situation was imminently perilous to need the aid\nof language to confirm it. The scout laid aside his rifle, and resumed\nthe paddle, while Chingachgook inclined the bows of the canoe a little\ntowards the western shore, in order to increase the distance between\nthem and this new enemy. In the meantime they were reminded of the\npresence of those who pressed upon their rear, by wild and exulting\nshouts. The stirring scene awakened even Munro from his apathy.\n\n\"Let us make for the rocks on the main,\" he said, with the mien of a\ntired soldier, \"and give battle to the savages. God forbid that I, or\nthose attached to me and mine, should ever trust again to the faith of\nany servant of the Louis's!\"\n\n\"He who wishes to prosper in Indian warfare,\" returned the scout, \"must\nnot be too proud to learn from the wit of a native. Lay her more along\nthe land, Sagamore; we are doubling on the varlets, and perhaps they may\ntry to strike our trail on the long calculation.\"\n\nHawkeye was not mistaken; for when the Hurons found their course was\nlikely to throw them behind their chase, they rendered it less direct,\nuntil, by gradually bearing more and more obliquely, the two canoes were\nere long, gliding on parallel lines, within two hundred yards of each\nother. It now became entirely a trial of speed. So rapid was the\nprogress of the light vessels, that the lake curled in their front, in\nminiature waves, and their motion became undulating by its own velocity.\nIt was, perhaps, owing to this circumstance, in addition to the\nnecessity of keeping every hand employed at the paddles, that the\nHurons had not immediate recourse to their fire-arms. The exertions of\nthe fugitives were too severe to continue long, and the pursuers had the\nadvantage of numbers. Duncan observed, with uneasiness, that the scout\nbegan to look anxiously about him, as if searching for some further\nmeans of assisting their flight.\n\n\"Edge her a little more from the sun, Sagamore,\" said the stubborn\nwoodsman; \"I see the knaves are sparing a man to the rifle. A single\nbroken bone might lose us our scalps. Edge more from the sun and we will\nput the island between us.\"\n\nThe expedient was not without its use. A long, low island lay at a\nlittle distance before them, and as they closed with it, the chasing\ncanoe was compelled to take a side opposite to that on which the pursued\npassed. The scout and his companions did not neglect this advantage, but\nthe instant they were hid from observation by the bushes, they redoubled\nefforts that before had seemed prodigious. The two canoes came round the\nlast low point, like two coursers at the top of their speed, the\nfugitives taking the lead. This change had brought them nigher to each\nother, however, while it altered their relative positions.\n\n\"You showed knowledge in the shaping of birchen bark, Uncas, when you\nchose this from among the Huron canoes,\" said the scout, smiling,\napparently more in satisfaction at their superiority in the race, than\nfrom that prospect of final escape which now began to open a little upon\nthem. \"The imps have put all their strength again at the paddles, and we\nare to struggle for our scalps with bits of flattened wood, instead of\nclouded barrels and true eyes. A long stroke, and together, friends.\"\n\n\"They are preparing for a shot,\" said Heyward; \"and as we are in a line\nwith them, it can scarcely fail.\"\n\n\"Get you then into the bottom of the canoe,\" returned the scout; \"you\nand the colonel; it will be so much taken from the size of the mark.\"\n\nHeyward smiled, as he answered,--\n\n\"It would be but an ill example for the highest in rank to dodge, while\nthe warriors were under fire!\"\n\n\"Lord! Lord! That is now a white man's courage!\" exclaimed the scout;\n\"and like too many of his notions, not to be maintained by reason. Do\nyou think the Sagamore, or Uncas, or even I, who am a man without a\ncross, would deliberate about finding a cover in the skrimmage, when an\nopen body would do no good? For what have the Frenchers reared up their\nQuebec, if fighting is always to be done in the clearings?\"\n\n[Illustration: _Copyright by Charles Scribner's Sons_\n\nTHE FLIGHT ACROSS THE LAKE\n\n_The scout having ascertained that the Mohicans were sufficient of\nthemselves to maintain the requisite distance, deliberately laid aside\nhis paddle, and raised the fatal rifle_]\n\n\"All that you say is very true, my friend,\" replied Heyward; \"still,\nour customs must prevent us from doing as you wish.\"\n\nA volley from the Hurons interrupted the discourse, and as the bullets\nwhistled about them, Duncan saw the head of Uncas turned, looking back\nat himself and Munro. Notwithstanding the nearness of the enemy, and his\nown great personal danger, the countenance of the young warrior\nexpressed no other emotion, as the former was compelled to think, than\namazement at finding men willing to encounter so useless an exposure.\nChingachgook was probably better acquainted with the notions of white\nmen, for he did not even cast a glance aside from the riveted look his\neye maintained on the object by which he governed their course. A ball\nsoon struck the light and polished paddle from the hands of the chief,\nand drove it through the air, far in the advance. A shout arose from the\nHurons, who seized the opportunity to fire another volley. Uncas\ndescribed an arc in the water with his own blade, and as the canoe\npassed swiftly on, Chingachgook recovered his paddle, and flourishing it\non high, he gave the war-whoop of the Mohicans, and then lent his\nstrength and skill again to the important task.\n\nThe clamorous sounds of \"Le Gros Serpent!\" \"La Longue Carabine!\" \"Le\nCerf Agile!\" burst at once from the canoes behind, and seemed to give\nnew zeal to the pursuers. The scout seized \"Killdeer\" in his left hand,\nand elevating it above his head, he shook it in triumph at his enemies.\nThe savages answered the insult with a yell, and immediately another\nvolley succeeded. The bullets pattered along the lake, and one even\npierced the bark of their little vessel. No perceptible emotion could be\ndiscovered in the Mohicans during this critical moment, their rigid\nfeatures expressing neither hope nor alarm; but the scout again turned\nhis head, and laughing in his own silent manner, he said to Heyward,--\n\n\"The knaves love to hear the sounds of their pieces; but the eye is not\nto be found among the Mingos that can calculate a true range in a\ndancing canoe! You see the dumb devils have taken off a man to charge,\nand by the smallest measurement that can be allowed, we move three feet\nto their two!\"\n\nDuncan, who was not altogether as easy under this nice estimate of\ndistances as his companions, was glad to find, however, that owing to\ntheir superior dexterity, and the diversion among their enemies, they\nwere very sensibly obtaining the advantage. The Hurons soon fired again,\nand a bullet struck the blade of Hawkeye's paddle without injury.\n\n\"That will do,\" said the scout, examining the slight indentation with a\ncurious eye; \"it would not have cut the skin of an infant, much less of\nmen, who, like us, have been blown upon by the heavens in their anger.\nNow, major, if you will try to use this piece of flattened wood, I'll\nlet 'Killdeer' take a part in the conversation.\"\n\nHeyward seized the paddle, and applied himself to the work with an\neagerness that supplied the place of skill, while Hawkeye was engaged in\ninspecting the priming of his rifle. The latter then took a swift aim,\nand fired. The Huron in the bows of the leading canoe had risen with a\nsimilar object, and he now fell backward, suffering his gun to escape\nfrom his hands into the water. In an instant, however, he recovered his\nfeet, though his gestures were wild and bewildered. At the same moment\nhis companions suspended their efforts, and the chasing canoes clustered\ntogether, and became stationary. Chingachgook and Uncas profited by the\ninterval to regain their wind, though Duncan continued to work with the\nmost persevering industry. The father and son now cast calm but\ninquiring glances at each other, to learn if either had sustained any\ninjury by the fire; for both well knew that no cry or exclamation would,\nin such a moment of necessity, have been permitted to betray the\naccident. A few large drops of blood were trickling down the shoulder of\nthe Sagamore, who, when he perceived that the eyes of Uncas dwelt too\nlong on the sight, raised some water in the hollow of his hand, and\nwashing off the stain, was content to manifest, in this simple manner,\nthe slightness of the injury.\n\n\"Softly, softly, major,\" said the scout, who by this time had reloaded\nhis rifle; \"we are a little too far already for a rifle to put forth its\nbeauties, and you see yonder imps are holding a council. Let them come\nup within striking distance--my eye may well be trusted in such a\nmatter--and I will trail the varlets the length of the Horican,\nguaranteeing that not a shot of theirs shall, at the worst, more than\nbreak the skin, while 'Killdeer' shall touch the life twice in three\ntimes.\"\n\n\"We forget our errand,\" returned the diligent Duncan. \"For God's sake\nlet us profit by this advantage, and increase our distance from the\nenemy.\"\n\n\"Give me my children,\" said Munro hoarsely; \"trifle no longer with a\nfather's agony, but restore me my babes.\"\n\nLong and habitual deference to the mandates of his superiors had taught\nthe scout the virtue of obedience. Throwing a last and lingering glance\nat the distant canoes, he laid aside his rifle, and relieving the\nwearied Duncan, resumed the paddle, which he wielded with sinews that\nnever tired. His efforts were seconded by those of the Mohicans, and a\nvery few minutes served to place such a sheet of water between them and\ntheir enemies, that Heyward once more breathed freely.\n\nThe lake now began to expand, and their route lay along a wide reach,\nthat was lined, as before, by high and ragged mountains. But the islands\nwere few, and easily avoided. The strokes of the paddles grew more\nmeasured and regular, while they who plied them continued their labor,\nafter the close and deadly chase from which they had just relieved\nthemselves, with as much coolness as though their speed had been tried\nin sport, rather than under such pressing, nay, almost desperate\ncircumstances.\n\nInstead of following the western shore, whither their errand led them,\nthe wary Mohican inclined his course more towards those hills behind\nwhich Montcalm was known to have led his army into the formidable\nfortress of Ticonderoga. As the Hurons, to every appearance, had\nabandoned the pursuit, there was no apparent reason for this excess of\ncaution. It was, however, maintained for hours, until they had reached a\nbay, nigh the northern termination of the lake. Here the canoe was\ndriven upon the beach, and the whole party landed. Hawkeye and Heyward\nascended an adjacent bluff, where the former, after considering the\nexpanse of water beneath him, pointed out to the latter a small black\nobject, hovering under a headland, at the distance of several miles.\n\n\"Do you see it?\" demanded the scout. \"Now, what would you account that\nspot, were you left alone to white experience to find your way through\nthis wilderness?\"\n\n\"But for its distance and its magnitude, I should suppose it a bird. Can\nit be a living object?\"\n\n\"'Tis a canoe of good birchen bark, and paddled by fierce and crafty\nMingos. Though Providence has lent to those who inhabit the woods eyes\nthat would be needless to men in the settlements, where there are\ninventions to assist the sight, yet no human organs can see all the\ndangers which at this moment circumvent us. These varlets pretend to be\nbent chiefly on their sun-down meal, but the moment it is dark they will\nbe on our trail, as true as hounds on the scent. We must throw them off,\nor our pursuit of Le Renard Subtil may be given up. These lakes are\nuseful at times, especially when the game takes the water,\" continued\nthe scout, gazing about him with a countenance of concern; \"but they\ngive no cover, except it be to the fishes. God knows what the country\nwould be, if the settlements should ever spread far from the two rivers.\nBoth hunting and war would lose their beauty.\"\n\n\"Let us not delay a moment, without some good and obvious cause.\"\n\n\"I little like that smoke, which you may see worming up along the rock\nabove the canoe,\" interrupted the abstracted scout. \"My life on it,\nother eyes than ours see it, and know its meaning. Well, words will not\nmend the matter, and it is time that we were doing.\"\n\nHawkeye moved away from the look-out, and descended, musing profoundly,\nto the shore. He communicated the result of his observations to his\ncompanions, in Delaware, and a short and earnest consultation succeeded.\nWhen it terminated, the three instantly set about executing their new\nresolutions.\n\nThe canoe was lifted from the water, and borne on the shoulders of the\nparty. They proceeded into the wood, making as broad and obvious a trail\nas possible. They soon reached a water-course, which they crossed, and\ncontinued onward, until they came to an extensive and naked rock. At\nthis point, where their footsteps might be expected to be no longer\nvisible, they retraced their route to the brook, walking backwards, with\nthe utmost care. They now followed the bed of the little stream to the\nlake, into which they immediately launched their canoe again. A low\npoint concealed them from the headland, and the margin of the lake was\nfringed for some distance with dense and overhanging bushes. Under the\ncover of these natural advantages, they toiled their way, with patient\nindustry, until the scout pronounced that he believed it would be safe\nonce more to land.\n\nThe halt continued until evening rendered objects indistinct and\nuncertain to the eye. Then they resumed their route, and, favored by the\ndarkness, pushed silently and vigorously towards the western shore.\nAlthough the rugged outline of mountain, to which they were steering,\npresented no distinctive marks to the eyes of Duncan, the Mohican\nentered the little haven he had selected with the confidence and\naccuracy of an experienced pilot.\n\nThe boat was again lifted and borne into the woods where it was\ncarefully concealed under a pile of brush. The adventurers assumed their\narms and packs, and the scout announced to Munro and Heyward that he and\nthe Indians were at last in readiness to proceed.\n\nQ: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?\nA: Hawkeye convinces the others to head north across a lake. As they travel across the lake in a light canoe, they are spotted and soon tailed by Huron canoes. The group's superior paddling tactics enable them to outpace their enemies, and Hawkeye manages to wound one pursuer with Killdeer, his long-range rifle. Upon reaching the northern shore, the men move eastward in an attempt to deceive the enemy. Carrying the canoe on their shoulders, they leave an obvious trail through the woods and end up at a large rock. Then they retrace their steps, stepping in their own footprints until they reach the brook and paddle to safety on the western shore. They hide the canoe and rest for the pursuit that will continue the next day\n\n","prompt":"Chapter: \"Land of Albania! let me bend mine eyes\n  On thee, thou rugged nurse of savage men!\"\n\n  _Childe Harold._\n\n\nThe heavens were still studded with stars, when Hawkeye came to arouse\nthe sleepers. Casting aside their cloaks Munro and Heyward were on their\nfeet while the woodsman was still making his low calls, at the entrance\nof the rude shelter where they had passed the night. When they issued\nfrom beneath its concealment, they found the scout awaiting their\nappearance nigh by, and the only salutation between them was the\nsignificant