Chapter XXXVI.

by James Fenimore Cooper

　　"And I could weep "--th Oneida chiefHis descant wildly thus begun--"But that I may not stain with griefThe death-song of my fathers son."--Gertrude OF Wyoming.

　　It was yet early on the following morning, when Elizabeth and Louisamet by appointment, and proceeded to the store of Monsieur Le Quoi, inorder to redeem the pledge the former had given to the Leather-Stocking. The people were again assembling for the business of theday, but the hour was too soon for a crowd, and the ladies found theplace in possession of its polite owner, Billy Kirby, one femalecustomer, and the boy who did the duty of helper or clerk.

　　Monsieur Le Quoi was perusing a packet of letters with manifestdelight, while the wood-chopper, with one hand thrust in his bosom,and the other in the folds of his jacket, holding an axe under hisright arm, stood sympathizing in the Frenchmans pleasure with good-natured interest. The freedom of manners that prevailed in the newsettlements commonly levelled all difference in rank, and with it,frequently, all considerations of education and intelligence. At thetime the ladies entered the store, they were unseen by the owner, whowas saying to Kirby:

　　"Ah! ha! Monsieur Beel, dis lettair mak me de most happi of mans. Ah!ma chre France! I vill see you again."

　　"I rejoice, monsieur, at anything that contributes to your happiness,"said Elizabeth, " but hope we are not going to lose you entirely."

　　The complaisant shopkeeper changed the language to French andrecounted rapidly to Elizabeth his hopes of being permitted to returnto his own country. Habit had, however, so far altered the manners ofthis pliable person age, that he continued to serve the wood-chopper,who was in quest of some tobacco, while he related to his more gentlevisitor the happy change that had taken place in the dispositions ofhis own countrymen.

　　The amount of it all was, that Mr. Le Quoi, who had fled from his owncountry more through terror than because he was offensive to theruling powers in France, had succeeded at length in getting anassurance that his return to the West Indies would be unnoticed; andthe Frenchman, who had sunk into the character of a country shopkeeperwith so much grace, was about to emerge again from his obscurity intohis proper level in society.

　　We need not repeat the civil things that passed between the parties onthis occasion, nor recount the endless repetitions of sorrow that thedelighted Frenchman expressed at being compelled to quit the societyof Miss Temple. Elizabeth took an opportunity, during thisexpenditure of polite expressions, to purchase the powder privately ofthe boy, who bore the generic appellation of Jonathan. Be fore theyparted, however, Mr. Le Quoi, who seemed to think that he had not saidenough, solicited the honor of a private interview with the heiress,with a gravity in his air that announced the importance of thesubject. After conceding the favor, and appointing a more favorabletime for the meeting, Elizabeth succeeded in getting out of the store,into which the countrymen now began to enter, as usual, where they metwith the same attention and bien seance as formerly.

　　Elizabeth and Louisa pursued their walk as far as the bridge inprofound silence; but when they reached that place the latter stopped,and appeared anxious to utter something that her diffidencesuppressed.

　　"Are you ill, Louisa?" exclaimed Miss Temple; "had we not betterreturn, and seek another opportunity to meet the old man?"

　　"Not ill, but terrified. Oh! I never, never can go on that hill againwith you only. I am not equal to it, in deed I am not."

　　This was an unexpected declaration to Elizabeth, who, although sheexperienced no idle apprehension of a danger that no longer existed,felt most sensitively all the delicacy of maiden modesty. She stoodfor some time, deeply reflecting within herself; but, sensible it wasa time for action instead of reflection, she struggled to shake offher hesitation, and replied, firmly:

　　"Well, then it must be done by me alone. There is no other thanyourself to be trusted, or poor old Leather-Stocking will bediscovered. Wait for me in the edge of these woods, that at least Imay not be seen strolling in the hills by myself just now, One wouldnot wish to create remarks, Louisa--if--if-- You will wait for me, deargirl?"

　　"A year, in sight of the village, Miss Temple, returned the agitatedLouisa, "but do not, do not ask me to go on that hill."

　　Elizabeth found that her companion was really unable to proceed, andthey completed their arrangement by posting Louisa out of theobservation of the people who occasionally passed, but nigh the road,and in plain view of the whole valley. Miss Temple then proceededalone. She ascended the road which has been so often mentioned in ournarrative, with an elastic and firm step, fearful that the delay inthe store of Mr. Le Quoi, and the time necessary for reaching thesummit, would prevent her being punctual to the appointment Whenevershe pressed an opening in the bushes, she would pause for breath, or,per haps, drawn from her pursuit by the picture at her feet, wouldlinger a moment to gaze at the beauties of the valley. The longdrought had, however, changed its coat of verdure to a hue of brown,and, though the same localities were there, the view wanted the livelyand cheering aspect of early summer. Even the heavens seemed to sharein the dried appearance of the earth, for the sun was concealed by ahaziness in the atmosphere, which looked like a thin smoke without aparticle of moisture, if such a thing were possible. The blue sky wasscarcely to be seen, though now, and then there was a faint lightingup in spots through which masses of rolling vapor could be discernedgathering around the horizon, as if nature were struggling to collecther floods for the relief of man. The very atmosphere that Elizabethinhaled was hot and dry, and by the time she reached the point wherethe course led her from the highway she experienced a sensation likesuffocation. But, disregarding her feelings, she hastened to executeher mission, dwelling on nothing but the disappointment, and even thehelplessness, the hunter would experience without her aid.

　　On the summit of the mountain which Judge Temple had named the"Vision," a little spot had been cleared, in order that a better viewmight he obtained of the village and the valley. At this pointElizabeth understood the hunter she was to meet him; and thither sheurged her way, as expeditiously as the difficulty of the ascent, andthe impediment of a forest, in a state of nature, would admit.Numberless were the fragments of rocks, trunks of fallen trees, andbranches, with which she had to contend; but every difficulty vanishedbefore her resolution, and, by her own watch, she stood on the desiredspot several minutes before the appointed hour.

　　After resting a moment on the end of a log, Miss Temple cast a glanceabout her in quest of her old friend, but he was evidently not in theclearing; she arose and walked around its skirts, examining everyplace where she thought it probable Natty might deem it prudent toconceal him self. Her search was fruitless; and, after exhausting notonly herself, but her conjectures, in efforts to discover or imaginehis situation, she ventured to trust her voice in that solitary place.

　　"Natty! Leather-Stocking! old man!" she called aloud, in everydirection; but no answer was given, excepting the reverberations ofher own clear tones, as they were echoed in the parched forest.

　　Elizabeth approached the brow of the mountain, where a faint cry, likethe noise produced by striking the hand against the mouth, at the sametime that the breath is strongly exhaled, was heard answering to herown voice. Not doubting in the least that it was the Leather-Stockinglying in wait for her, and who gave that signal to indicate the placewhere he was to be found, Elizabeth descended for near a hundred feet,until she gained a little natural terrace, thinly scattered withtrees, that grew in the fissures of the rocks, which were covered by ascanty soil. She had advanced to the edge of this platform, and wasgazing over the perpendicular precipice that formed its face, when arustling among the dry leaves near her drew her eyes in anotherdirection. Our heroine certainly was startled by the object that shethen saw, but a moment restored her self-possession, and she advancedfirmly, and with some interest in her manner, to the spot.

　　Mohegan was seated on the trunk of a fallen oak, with his tawny visageturned toward her, and his eyes fixed on her face with an expressionof wildness and fire, that would have terrified a less resolutefemale. His blanket had fallen from his shoulders, and was lying infolds around him, leaving his breast, arms, and most of his body bare.The medallion of Washington reposed on his chest, a badge ofdistinction that Elizabeth well knew he only produced on great andsolemn occasions. But the whole appearance of the aged chief was morestudied than common, and in some particulars it was terrific. Thelong black hair was plaited on his head, failing away, so as to exposehis high forehead and piercing eyes. In the enormous incisions of hisears were entwined ornaments of silver, beads, and porcupines quills,mingled in a rude taste, and after the Indian fashions. A large drop,composed of similar materials, was suspended from the cartilage of hisnose, and, falling below his lips, rested on his chin. Streaks of redpaint crossed his wrinkled brow, and were traced down his cheeks, withsuch variations in the lines as caprice or custom suggested. His bodywas also colored in the same manner; the whole exhibiting an Indianwarrior prepared for some event of more than usual moment.

　　"John! how fare you, worthy John?" said Elizabeth, as she approachedhim; "you have long been a stranger in the village. You promised me awillow basket, and I have long had a shirt of calico in readiness foryou."

　　The Indian looked steadily at her for some time without answering, andthen, shaking his head, he replied, in his low, guttural tones:

　　"Johns hand can make baskets no more--he wants no shirt."

　　But if he should, he will know where to come for it," returned MissTemple. "Indeed old John. I feel as if you had a natural right toorder what you will from us."

　　"Daughter," said the Indian, "listen : Six times ten hot summers havepassed since John was young tall like a pine; straight like the bulletof Hawk-eye, strong as all buffalo; spry as the cat of the mountain.He was strong, and a warrior like the Young Eagle. If his tribewanted to track the Maquas for many suns, the eye of Chingachgookfound the print of their moccasins. If the people feasted and wereglad, as they counted the scalps of their enemies, it was on his polethey hung. If the squaws cried because there was no meat for theirchildren, he was the first in the chase. His bullet was swifter thanthe deer. Daughter, then Chingachgook struck his tomahawk into thetrees; it was to tell the lazy ones where to find him and the Mingoes--but he made no baskets."

　　"Those times have gone by, old warrior," returned Elizabeth ; " sincethen your people have disappeared, and, in place of chasing yourenemies, you have learned to fear God and to live at peace."

　　"Stand here, daughter, where you can see the great spring, the wigwamsof your father, and the land on the crooked river. John was youngwhen his tribe gave away the country, in council, from where the bluemountain stands above the water, to where the Susquehanna is hid bythe trees. All this, and all that grew in it, and all that walkedover it, and all that fed there, they gave to the Fire-eater----for theyloved him. He was strong, and they were women, and he helped them.No Delaware would kill a deer that ran in his woods, nor stop a birdthat flew over his land; for it was his. Has John lived in peace?Daughter, since John was young, he has seen the white man fromFrontinac come down on his white brothers at Albany and fight. Didthey fear God? He has seen his English and his American fathersburying their tomahawks in each others brains, for this very land.Did they fear God, and live in peace? He has seen the land pass awayfrom the Fire-eater, and his children, and the child of his child, anda new chief set over the country. Did they live in peace who didthis? did they fear God?"

　　"Such is the custom of the whites, John. Do not the Delawares fight,and exchange their lands for powder, and blankets, and merchandise?"

　　The Indian turned his dark eyes on his companion, and kept them therewith a scrutiny that alarmed her a little.

　　"Where are the blankets and merchandise that bought the right of theFire-eater?" he replied in a more animated voice; "are they with himin his wigwam? Did they say to him, Brother, sell us your land, andtake this gold, this silver, these blankets, these rifles, or eventhis rum? No; they tore it front him, as a scalp is torn from anenemy; and they that did it looked not behind them, to see whether helived or died. Do such men live in peace and fear the Great Spirit?"

　　"But you hardly understand the circumstances," said Elizabeth, moreembarrassed than she would own, even to herself. "If you knew ourlaws and customs better, you would Judge differently of our acts. Donot believe evil of my father, old Mohegan, for he is just and good."

　　"The brother of Miquon is good, and he will do right. I have said itto Hawk-eye---I have said it to the Young Eagle that the brother ofMiquon would do justice."

　　"Whom call you the Young Eagle?" said Elizabeth, averting her facefrom the gaze of the Indian, as she asked the question; "whence comeshe, and what are his rights?"

　　"Has my daughter lived so long with him to ask this question?"returned the Indian warily. "Old age freezes up the blood, as thefrosts cover the great spring in winter; but youth keeps the streamsof the blood open like a sun in the time of blossoms. The Young Eaglehas eyes; had he no tongue?"

　　The loveliness to which the old warrior alluded was in no degreediminished by his allegorical speech; for the blushes of the maidenwho listened covered her burning cheeks till her dark eyes seemed toglow with their reflection; but, after struggling a moment with shame,she laughed, as if unwilling to understand him seriously, and repliedin pleasantry:

　　"Not to make me the mistress of his secret. He is too much of aDelaware to tell his secret thoughts to a woman."

　　"Daughter, the Great Spirit made your father with a white skin, and hemade mine with a red; but he colored both their hearts with blood.When young, it is swift and warm; but when old, it is still and cold.Is there difference below the skin? No. Once John had a woman. Shewas the mother of so many sons"--he raised his hand with three fingerselevated--" and she had daughters that would have made the youngDelawares happy. She was kind, daughter, and what I said she did.You have different fashions; but do you think John did not love thewife of his youth--the mother of his children?"

　　"And what has become of your family, John--your wife and yourchildren?" asked Elizabeth, touched by the Indians manner.

　　"Where is the ice that covered the great spring? It is melted, andgone with the waters. John has lived till all his people have lefthim for the land of spirits; his time has come, and he is ready."

　　Mohegan dropped his head in his blanket, and sat in silence. MissTemple knew not what to say. She wished to draw the thoughts of theold warrior from his gloomy recollections, but there was a dignity inhis sorrow, and in his fortitude, that repressed her efforts to speak.After a long pause, however, she renewed the discourse by asking:

　　"Where is the Leather-Stocking, John? I have brought this canister ofpowder at his request; but he is nowhere to he seen. Will you takecharge of it, and see it delivered?"

　　The Indian raised his head slowly and looked earnestly at the gift,which she put into his hand.

　　"This is the great enemy of my nation. Without this, when could thewhite man drive the Delawares? Daughter, the Great Spirit gave yourfathers to know how to make guns and powder, that they might sweep theIndians from the land. There will soon be no red-skin in the country.When John has gone, the last will leave these hills, and his familywill be dead." The aged warrior stretched his body forward, leaning anelbow on his knee, and appeared to be taking a parting look at theobjects of the vale, which were still visible through the mistyatmosphere, though the air seemed to thicken at each moment aroundMiss Temple, who became conscious of an increased difficulty ofrespiration. The eye of Mohegan changed gradually from its sorrowfulexpression to a look of wildness that might be supposed to border onthe inspiration of a prophet, as he continued: "But he will go on tothe country where his fathers have met. The game shall be plenty asthe Ash in the lakes. No woman shall cry for meat: no Mingo can evercome The chase shall be for children; and all just red men shall livetogether as brothers."

　　"John! this is not the heaven of a Christian," cried Miss Temple; "youdeal now in the superstition of your forefathers."

　　"Fathers! sons!" said Mohegan, with firmness.--" all gone--all gone!--!have no son but the Young Eagle, and he has the blood of a white man."

　　"Tell me, John," said Elizabeth, willing to draw his thoughts to othersubjects, and at the same time yielding to her own powerful interestin the youth; "who is this Mr. Edwards? why are you so fond of him,and whence does he come ?"

　　The Indian started at the question, which evidently recalled hisrecollection to earth. Taking her hand, he drew Miss Temple to a seatbeside him, and pointed to the country beneath them.

　　"See, daughter," he said, directing her looks toward the north; "asfar as your young eyes can see, it was the land of his. But immensevolumes of smoke at that moment rolled over their heath, and, whirlingin the eddies formed by the mountains, interposed a barrier to theirsight, while he was speaking. Startled by this circumstance, MissTemple sprang to her feet, and, turning her eyes toward the summit ofthe mountain, she beheld It covered by a similar canopy, while aroaring sound was heard in the forest above her like the rushing ofwinds.

　　"What means it, John?" she exclaimed: "we are enveloped in smoke, andI feel a heat like the glow of a furnace."

　　Before the Indian could reply, a voice was heard crying In the woods:"John! where are you, old Mohegan! the woods are on fire, and you havebut a minute for escape."

　　The chief put his hand before his mouth, and, making it lay on hislips, produced the kind of noise that had attracted Elizabeth to theplace, when a quick and hurried step was heard dashing through thedried underbrush and bushes, and presently Edwards rushed to his side,with horror an every feature.