The Last of the Mohicans. The Last of the Mohicans The Last of the Mohicans read online

James Fenimore Cooper

The Last of the Mohicans

I'm ready to find out the worst

And the terrible thing you could bring to me,

Ready to hear the painful news

Answer quickly - did the kingdom perish?!

Shakespeare

The water surface of Champlain stretched from Canada and jutted deep into the colony of New York; as a result, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient route of communication, along which the French could sail up to half the distance separating them from the enemy.

Near the southern edge of Lake Champlain, the crystal clear waters of Lake Horiken - the Holy Lake - merge with it.

The Holy Lake meanders between countless islets and is surrounded by low coastal mountains. It stretches in curves far to the south, where it abuts the plateau. From this point began a multi-mile portage that led the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here sailing along the river became comfortable, since the current was free of rapids.

In carrying out their warlike plans, the French tried to penetrate the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains and drew attention to the natural advantages of the region we have just described. Indeed, it soon turned into a bloody arena of numerous battles, with which the warring parties hoped to resolve the issue regarding the possession of the colonies.

Here, in the most important places, towering above the surrounding routes, fortresses grew; they were taken over by one or the other warring side; they were either torn down or rebuilt again, depending on whose banner was flying over the fortress.

While peaceful farmers tried to stay away from dangerous mountain gorges, hiding in ancient settlements, numerous military forces delved into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.

Although this troubled region did not know peaceful crafts, its forests were often enlivened by the presence of man.

Under the canopy of branches and in the valleys the sounds of marches were heard, and the echo in the mountains repeated the laughter and cries of many, many carefree young braves who, in the prime of their strength, hurried here to fall into deep sleep have a long night oblivion.

The stupidity of military leaders abroad and the disastrous inactivity of advisers at court deprived Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won for her by the talent and courage of her former soldiers and statesmen. The English forces were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left most of the border unguarded. And after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers arose. In every gust of wind coming from the endless forests, the frightened settlers imagined wild screams and the ominous howl of the Indians.

Under the influence of fear, the danger assumed unprecedented proportions; common sense could not fight the alarmed imagination. Even the most courageous, self-confident, and energetic began to doubt the favorable outcome of the struggle. The number of cowardly and cowardly people increased incredibly; It seemed to them that in the near future all the American possessions of England would become the property of the French or would be devastated by Indian tribes - allies of France.

That is why, when news came to the English fortress, rising in the southern part of the plateau between the Hudson and the lakes, about the appearance of the Marquis of Montcalm near Champlain, and idle chatterers added that this general was moving with a detachment “in which there are soldiers like leaves in the forest,” it was terrible the message was received rather with cowardly resignation than with the stern satisfaction that should have been felt by a warrior who discovered an enemy close to him. News of Montcalm's landing at midsummer; The Indian brought it at an hour when the day was already approaching evening. Along with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander a request from Munro, the commandant of one of the forts on the shores of the Holy Lake, to immediately send him strong reinforcements. The distance between the fort and the fortress, which a forest dweller walked within two hours, could be covered by a military detachment with its convoy between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, named after the princes of the royal family. The veteran Scot Munro commanded Fort William Henry.

It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of volunteer colonists; it was a garrison too small to fight Montcalm's advancing forces.

The post of commandant in the second fortress was held by General Webb; under his command was a royal army of over five thousand people. If Webb had united all his scattered troops, he could have brought twice as many soldiers against the enemy as the enterprising Frenchman had, who ventured so far from his replenishment with an army not much larger than the English.

All doubts about Webb's intentions were dispelled, and for two or three hours hurried running and anxious faces were heard in the camp. The recruit anxiously scurried back and forth, fussed and with his excessive zeal only slowed down his preparations for the performance; the experienced veteran armed himself quite calmly, unhurriedly, although the stern features and worried look clearly indicated that the terrible struggle in the forests did not particularly please his heart.

James Fenimore Cooper

The Last of the Mohicans

I'm ready to find out the worst

And the terrible thing you could bring to me,

Ready to hear the painful news

Answer quickly - did the kingdom perish?!

Near the southern edge of Lake Champlain, the crystal clear waters of Lake Horiken - the Holy Lake - merge with it.

Although this troubled region did not know peaceful crafts, its forests were often enlivened by the presence of man.

Under the canopy of branches and in the valleys the sounds of marches were heard, and the echo in the mountains repeated the laughter and cries of many, many carefree young braves who, in the prime of their strength, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of the long night of oblivion.

It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of volunteer colonists; it was a garrison too small to fight Montcalm's advancing forces.

"The Last of the Mohicans. Part 2."

Never. I follow only my high calling, that is, teaching people church music.

“A strange calling,” said Hawkeye and grinned. - All your life repeat, like a mockingbird, all the high and low notes that escape from the human throat! However, friend, singing is your talent, and no one has the right to blaspheme it, just as no one dares to blame the art of shooting or any other skill. Show me your art. Let this be our friendly goodbye for the night. After all, the girls will have to gain strength before the long journey, which we will set off on at dawn, before the Macuas have yet stirred.

“With great pleasure,” said Gamut. Adjusting his iron-rimmed glasses, he took out his favorite volume and immediately handed the book to Alice. - What could be more suitable and calming than evening prayer after a day full of danger and risk!

Alice smiled. She looked at Hayward and flushed, not knowing what to do:

Don’t be shy,” the young officer whispered to her.

Alice got ready to sing. David chose a hymn that suited the situation of the fugitives. Cora also wanted to support her sister. David, who always adhered to strict rules in singing, first gave the singers a tone using his tuning fork.

A solemn chant began to flow; sometimes the young girls bent over the book and strengthened their sonorous voices, sometimes they lowered them, so that the sound of the water turned into a dull accompaniment of songs. David's natural taste and faithful ear guided the singers. He proportioned the strength of the voices to the size of the narrow cave, every crack, every cavity of which was filled with soulful sounds. The Indians looked at the rocks with such close attention that it seemed that they themselves had turned into stones.

The scout at first sat with his chin indifferently resting on his hand, but little by little his stern features softened. Perhaps the memories of childhood, quiet days when he had to hear the same psalms from his mother’s lips, were resurrected in the hunter’s mind. The forest dweller's thoughtful eyes became moist, tears rolled down his weather-beaten cheeks, although he was more accustomed to the storms of life than to manifestations of spiritual trepidation. One of those low, dying sounds rushed by, which the ear drinks in with greedy delight, as if aware that this pleasure would now be interrupted... And suddenly a cry was heard, unlike either a human cry or the cry of another earthly creature; he shook the air and penetrated not only into all corners of the cave, but also into the most secluded recesses of human hearts. Following this there was complete silence; It seemed as if even the waters of Glenn had stopped, struck by horror.

What is this? - Alice whispered, waking up from tetanus.

What is this? - Duncan asked loudly.

Neither Hawkeye nor the Indians responded. They listened, apparently expecting a repetition of the cry, and expressed their amazement in silence. At last they began to speak quickly and seriously among themselves in the Delaware dialect. At the end of their conversation, Uncas carefully slipped out of the distant exit of the cave.

When he left, the scout spoke again in English:

None of us can say what it was, although two of us have been studying forests for more than thirty years. I thought that my ears were familiar with all the cries of the Indians, all the animal voices, but now I see that I was just a vain, arrogant person.

Isn’t this the war cry of warriors, the howl with which they try to frighten their enemies? - Cora asked, calmly lowering the veil over her face, while her younger sister was visibly worried.

No, no, now there was an ominous, stunning sound, and there was something unnatural about it. If you had ever heard the war cry of the Indians, you would never have mistaken it for anything else... Well, Uncas? - the scout again addressed the young Mohican who had returned to the cave in Delaware. - What you see? Doesn't our fire shine through the veils?

A short and apparently negative answer was heard in the same dialect.

“You can’t see anything,” Hawkeye continued in English, shaking his head with displeasure. - But our location is still a mystery. Go to another cave, lady, and try to sleep: you need rest. We'll be up long before sunrise, and we'll have to hurry to get to Fort Edward while the Mings are asleep.

Cora obeyed with such calmness that the more timid Alice was forced to follow her example. However, leaving the cave, she whispered to Duncan to come with them.

Uncas pulled back the blanket curtain for the sisters. Turning to thank him for his attention, the girls saw that the scout had again sat down over the dying coals, covering his face with his hands, and, apparently, lost in thought about the incomprehensible sound that had interrupted the evening singing.

Hayward took with him a burning pine branch, and this torch faintly illuminated the narrow cave where the girls were to spend the night. Duncan fixed his lamp in a crack in the stone and approached the sisters; they were alone with him for the first time since leaving Fort Edward.

Don't go, Duncan! - Alice asked him. - We won't sleep in this scary place, especially now, when the terrible scream still rings in our ears.

“First of all, let’s examine whether our fortress is safe enough,” Heyward answered, “and then we’ll talk about the rest.”

He walked to the farthest corner of the cave, to the exit, also covered with a heavy blanket, and, pushing it aside, took a deep breath of the fresh, life-giving air wafting from the waterfalls. The nearest branch of the river rushed through a narrow, deep gorge, dug by the current in the soft stone. The water rushed at the very feet of the young officer and, as it seemed to him, formed excellent protection on this side.

Nature has created an insurmountable barrier,” he continued, pointing to a black stream under the cliff, and lowered the curtain, “and you yourself know that honest, faithful people are protecting you.” So why don't you take Hawkeye's advice? I'm sure Cora will agree with me and say that you both need to sleep.

Cora may agree with your opinion, but she will not be able to follow your advice,” said the eldest of the girls, settling down next to Alice on a bed of sassafras branches. - Even if we didn’t hear an incomprehensible, terrible scream, it would still be difficult for us to fall asleep. Tell me yourself, Hayward, can daughters forget how worried their father must be, not knowing where they are and what happened to them in this wilderness among so many dangers?

He's a warrior. True, he knows the dangers, but he also knows the benefits of forests.

But he is a father, and he cannot renounce his fatherly feelings.

How condescendingly, how patiently he bore my stupid ideas! With such love he fulfilled all my wishes! - Alice said with tears. “Cora, we were unwise in undertaking this risky trip.

I may have thoughtlessly insisted that my father allow us to come to him at such a troubled time, but I wanted to prove to him that while he could not rely on others, his children remained faithful to him.

“When he heard of your decision to come to the fort, Edward,” said Heyward kindly, “a fierce struggle took place in his soul between fear and love, and love won the victory.” “I don’t want to stop them, Duncan,” he said. “God grant that all the defenders of our king will show half the courage that Cora showed.”

And he didn't say anything about me, Hayward? - Alice asked with jealous tenderness. - I’m sure that dad couldn’t completely forget about his little Elsie...

Of course not,” answered the young man. “He showered you with many kind words, which I do not dare repeat, feeling, however, that they were just. Once he said...

Duncan suddenly fell silent; his eyes were fixed on Alice, who, in a burst of daughterly love, turned towards him to hear her father's words, when the same terrible cry rang out again, and after that there was a long, dead silence. Everyone looked at each other, fearfully expecting a repetition of the wild howl. Finally, the blanket slowly moved away, and the figure of a scout appeared in the opening of the cave; the stern firmness of his face gave way to uncertainty at the thought of mysterious sounds that seemed to foreshadow an imminent danger, against which both his dexterity and experience were powerless.

They don't sleep.

And I see those on the rocks -

The whole wild gang is sitting there.

If we stay here,” said Hawkeye, “we will disregard the warning that is given to us for our own good.” Let the gentle creatures stay in the cave, but we, that is, me and the Mohicans, will go to the rock to guard. And I believe the major of the sixtieth regiment will join us.

Is danger imminent? - asked Cora.

Only the one who makes these strange screams knows about the danger that threatens us. I will consider myself an unworthy person if I start hiding in a hole when I hear such a sign in the air. Even the weak soul who has spent his days in psalmody is moved by these sounds and says that he is “ready to go forward to battle.” But if only a battle awaited us, then we would have successfully dealt with it. But I have heard that when such cries are heard between heaven and earth, it foreshadows an unusual war.

If you believe, my friend, that these sounds are caused by supernatural reasons, then we should not worry too much,” continued the imperturbable Cora. - But don’t you think that our enemies want to intimidate us and, in this unique way, easily defeat us?

“Lady,” the scout answered in a solemn tone, “for more than thirty years I have listened to all the sounds of the forest, as a person listens, whose life and death depend on the sensitivity of his hearing!” Neither the purr of a panther, nor the whistle of a mockingbird, nor the cries of the devilish mings will deceive me. I heard the forest groaning like a man in cruel sadness; I also heard the crack of lightning, when sparkling sparks scattered from its fiery arrows. Now neither the Mohicans nor I can explain to ourselves what kind of cry it was. And therefore we think that this is a sign from heaven sent for our good.

Strange... - said Hayward and took his pistols, which he placed on the stone when entering the cave. - It doesn’t matter whether it’s a sign of peace or a call to battle - you need to find out what’s going on. Go, my friend, I follow you. Everyone felt a surge of courage when, going out into the open sky, they breathed not the stuffy air of the grotto, but the invigorating coolness that stood above the waterfalls and whirlpools. A strong wind hovered over the river and seemed to carry the roar of water into the depths of the grottoes, from where a continuous roar was heard, reminiscent of thunder behind the moored mountains. The moon rose, its light played here and there on the surface of the water; the same edge of the rock on which they stood was shrouded in thick darkness. With the exception of the roar of falling water and the strong sighs of the gusty wind, everything was as quiet as it can be at night in the complete wilderness. In vain the eyes peered at the opposite shore, trying to catch the slightest signs of life there that could explain what the terrible sounds meant. The uncertain light of the moon deceived the intense vision of the alarmed people, and their gaze met only bare cliffs and motionless trees.

“Among the darkness and peace of the lovely evening calm, nothing is visible,” Duncan whispered. - How we would have admired the picture of this solitude at another time, Cora! Imagine that you are completely safe, perhaps...

Listen! - Alice interrupted him.

But she had no need to stop the major: the same sound was heard again. Apparently, it came from the river and, breaking out of the narrow cliffs that constrained it, wavered, rolled through the forest and froze somewhere far, far away.

How can you call such a cry? - Hawkeye asked when the last echo of the terrible scream was lost in the wilderness. - If any of you understands what’s going on, let him tell me. I think this is something supernatural.

“In that case, there is someone here who can dissuade you,” Duncan said. “These screams are well known to me, since I have often heard them on the battlefield under circumstances that are often encountered in the life of a soldier. This is the cry of a horse. Sometimes pain rips this sound from her throat, and sometimes horror. Probably my horse has become the prey of wild beasts, or he sees a danger that he cannot avoid. I might not have recognized those screams while I was in the cave, but in the open air I can’t be mistaken.

The scout and his companions listened to Duncan's simple explanation with the interest of people whom new concepts have forced to abandon some old beliefs.

“Uh-oh,” said the Mohicans when the truth became clear to them.

Hawkeye thought for a moment and replied:

I cannot deny the truth of your words, because I don’t know horses well, although there are many of them here. Probably, wolves have gathered around them on the shore, and now the frightened animals are calling for help from a person, as they know how to call... Uncas,” he addressed the young Indian in the language of the Delawares, “get off in the pirogue and go down the stream, throw it into the flock wolves a burning brand, otherwise fear will do what wolves cannot do, and we will be left without horses. Meanwhile, tomorrow we need to move quickly. The young native had already gone down to the water to carry out the scout’s orders, when a long, loud howl was heard on the river bank, which soon began to move away; The wolves seemed to be seized by sudden horror and abandoned their victims.

Uncas quickly returned. And the three friends began to confer again.

We resembled hunters who had lost the guidance of the starry sky and had not seen the sun hidden from them for several days,” said Hawkeye, taking a few steps to the side. “Now we are again beginning to see the signs of the path, and, thank God, it has been cleared of many obstacles. Sit down in the shade of the shore, it’s darker here than in the pine trees. Speak only in a whisper, although perhaps it is better and more prudent for us to talk for some time only with our own thoughts.

It became clear that Hawkeye's anxiety had disappeared; now he was ready to fight again. It was evident that with the discovery of a secret which his own experience could not explain to him, his momentary fear disappeared, and, although he clearly saw the situation in which they were, he was ready to meet any danger with all the courage of his courageous character. His feelings seemed to be shared by the natives. They stood on a rock with a view of both banks; at the same time, they themselves were hidden from the eyes of the enemy. Hayward and his companions found it necessary to follow the example of their prudent guides. Duncan collected a large pile of sassafras branches and placed it in the crevice that separated the two caves. Cora and Alice hid in this crevice. The rock walls could protect the sisters from enemy shots; at the same time, the major reassured the alarmed girls, telling them that no danger would take them by surprise. Hayward himself placed himself not far from Cora and Alice and could talk to them in a low voice. Meanwhile, David, imitating the inhabitants of the forest, hid between the stones so that his clumsy body was not visible.

Hours passed. Nothing disturbed the peace and quiet of the night. The moon had risen to its zenith, and its sheer rays illuminated two sisters who were sleeping peacefully, hugging each other. Duncan covered the sisters with Cora's large shawl, thereby hiding from himself the spectacle that he contemplated with such love, then lowered his head onto a piece of stone. From David's direction came such sounds of snoring that, in a moment of vigil, would, of course, disturb his own hearing. In a word, except for the scout and the Mohicans, sleep conquered everyone, everyone lost consciousness of reality. But the vigilant guards knew neither drowsiness nor fatigue. Motionless as stones, they lay, merging with the outlines of the cliffs, constantly looking around at the dark rows of trees that bordered the opposite bank of the narrow stream. Not a single sound escaped their ears, and the most careful observer could not tell whether they were breathing or not. It was obvious that such caution was born of long experience and that the subtlest cunning of her enemies could not deceive her. However, everything was calm. At last the moon set; A pink stripe appeared above the treetops at the bend of the river and announced the coming of a new day.

Then Hawkeye moved for the first time, crawled along the cliff and woke up Duncan, who was fast asleep.

“It’s time to go,” the hunter whispered. - Wake up the girls and, when I bring the pirogue to a convenient place, get ready to go down to the river.

Did the night pass peacefully? - asked Hayward. - I was overcome by sleep and prevented me from keeping watch.

Yes, and now everything is as quiet as it was at midnight. But be quiet! Be quiet and hurry up! - And the scout went to the pirogue.

Having finally woken up, Duncan approached the sleeping girls and, throwing back the shawl that covered them, said:

Bark! Alice! Wake up, it's time to hit the road!

Cora raised her hand as if pushing someone away. Alice babbled in her gentle voice:

No, no, dear father, they didn’t leave us, Duncan was with us!

Yes, Duncan is here,” the young man whispered with excitement, “and as long as he is alive and while danger threatens, he will not leave you!.. Cora!” Alice! Get up! It's time to go!

Suddenly Alice screamed shrilly, and Cora jumped up and straightened up to her full height. Before the major had time to utter the words, such terrible howls were heard that even Duncan’s blood rushed to his heart. For a minute it seemed as if all the demons of hell filled the air surrounding the travelers and hovered around them, pouring out their fierce anger in wild screams. A terrible howl came from all sides.

The frightened listeners imagined that discordant screams were heard in the thicket of the forest, in caves near waterfalls, among rocks, rushed from the river bed, and fell from the sky. To the sounds of this hellish noise and din, David straightened up, covered his ears and screamed:

Where does this cacophony come from? Maybe the vaults of hell have opened up? A person would not dare to make such sounds!

His careless movement caused a volley of shots from the opposite bank. The unfortunate singing teacher fell unconscious on the stones that served as his bed during his long sleep. The Mohicans boldly responded with shouts to the war cry of their enemies, who, at the sight of the fall of Gamut, howled in triumph. A quick firefight began; but both warring parties were so experienced that they did not leave cover for a moment. Duncan listened with the greatest tension, hoping to catch the sound of the oars; he thought that there was only one means of salvation left - flight. The river still rolled its waves past the cliffs, but the pirogue was not visible on the black water. Hayward had already begun to think that the scout had mercilessly abandoned them, when suddenly a flame flashed on the rock under his feet, and a fierce howl proved that the messenger of death, sent from Hawkeye’s gun, had found a victim. Even this weak resistance forced the attackers to retreat. Little by little the cries of the savages fell silent, and Glenn was again enveloped in the same silence that had embraced his wild rocks before the confusion and noise began.

Duncan, taking advantage of the favorable moment, ran up to the prostrate Gamut and carried him to the narrow crevice that served as a refuge for both sisters. “The poor man’s scalp survived,” Hawkeye calmly noted, running his hand over David’s head. - Here is a man whose tongue is too long! It was madness to show up to the savages on an unprotected rock at your full enormous height. I'm surprised he survived!

He is alive, his heart is beating. Give him a little rest - he will come to his senses, become more prudent and live to see his appointed end,” answered Hawkeye, again looking sideways at the singer’s motionless body and at the same time loading his gun with amazing speed and dexterity. - Uncas, take him into the cave and place him on the branches of the sassafras tree. The longer he sleeps, the better it will be for him, since he is unlikely to be able to find a good enough cover for his long figure, and he will not protect himself from the Iroquois by singing.

So you think the attack will happen again? - asked Hayward.

Can I think that a hungry wolf will be satisfied with one piece of meat? The Macuas have lost one of their own, and after the first loss, even after an unsuccessful attack, they always retreat. But the villains will return and come up with a new way to get our scalps. We must,” he continued, raising his Face, darkened by a shadow of anxiety, “hold out here until Munro sends soldiers to our aid. God grant that this happens as soon as possible and that the soldier is led by someone who knows the customs of the Indians.

Do you hear, Cora, what, in all likelihood, awaits us? - asked Duncan. “We can only rely on your father’s thoughtfulness.” Enter the cave, both of you, where you will at least be safe from the shots of our enemies, and take care of our unfortunate comrade.

The young girls followed him into the inner cave, where David lay, still motionless, but his sighs showed that consciousness had returned to him. Having transferred the wounded man into the care of the girls, Hayward went to the exit, but was stopped.

The major turned around and looked at the girl. Her face turned deathly pale, her lips trembled, and there was such tension in her eyes fixed on him that the major instantly returned to her.

Remember, Duncan, how necessary your life is for our salvation! Remember that Father entrusted us to your care; remember that everything depends on your caution,” she said, and an eloquent blush covered her features. - In a word, remember: you are treasured by all who bear the name Munro.

If anything can increase my affection for life,” said Hayward, unconsciously looking at the silent Alice, “it is such confidence.” As Major of the Sixtieth Regiment, I must take part in the defense. But a simple task awaits us: we will only have to repel the attack of the savages for a short time.

Without waiting for an answer, he forced himself to leave his sisters and joined the scout and the Mohicans, who still lay in the narrow crevice between the two caves.

“I repeat to you, Uncas,” the hunter was saying when Heyward approached them, “you are wasting gunpowder - because of this, the gun recoils and prevents the bullet from flying properly.” A small amount of gunpowder, a light bullet and a long sight - this is what almost always causes the dying cry of the Mings... Come, friends, let's hide, because no one can say at what moment and in what place the Macuas will strike.

The Indians silently positioned themselves so that they could see everyone who approached the foot of the falls. In the middle of the small island there were several low, stunted pines that formed a grove. Hawkeye rushed here with the speed of a deer; the energetic Duncan ran after him. Here they tried to hide between the trees and fragments of stones scattered in the grove. Above them rose a rounded rock, on both sides of which water played and seethed, plunging into the abyss. Now that it was dawn, the opposite shore was clearly visible. Hawkeye and the major peered into the thicket, distinguishing all the objects under the canopy of gloomy pines.

The anxious wait dragged on for a long time; however, the guards did not notice any signs of a new attack. Duncan was already hoping that the shots of his comrades were more successful than they themselves had imagined, and that the savages had finally retreated, but when he told the scout about this, Hawkeye shook his head in disbelief:

You don't know the Macuas if you think they can be driven away so easily. After all, they did not manage to get a single scalp. If only one devil was screaming there that morning, but there were about forty of them there, he said. - They know too well how few of us there are to give up the pursuit... Tes! Look at the river, upstream, where the streams break on the rocks! The devils crossed over at this place! They were lucky: look, they reached that end of the island... Tes! Hush, hush, or your hair will fly off your head in a second!

Hayward looked out from behind his cover and saw what rightly seemed to him the height of dexterity and courage. Stormy streams ground down the corner of the rock from which the river fell, and the first ledge of the stone became less vertical. And so, guided only by the slight ripples visible where the stream hit the edge of the small island, several Hurons decided to throw themselves into the stream and swam to this place, knowing that from there it would be easy to climb onto the island and overtake their intended victims.

As soon as the scout's whisper fell silent, four human heads appeared above the logs, nailed by the current to the exposed rocks. The next moment a fifth figure appeared in the green foam; she swam and struggled with the water. The Indian tried his best to reach safe place. The swift current carried him along; Now he had already extended his hand to his comrades, but the seething stream again threw him away from them. Suddenly the Huron seemed to fly into the air, throw up his arms and disappear into the yawning abyss. A desperate cry was heard from the abyss. Then everything fell silent; a moment of terrible calm came... Duncan's first sincere desire was to rush to the aid of the dying creature, but the iron grip of the hunter's hands chained him to the spot.

Do you want to discover our hideout and bring certain death upon us all? - Hawkeye asked sternly. - This saved us one charge. And ammunition is as dear to us as a moment’s respite to a tired deer. Change the powder in your pistols. Such water dust rises above the waterfall that the saltpeter has probably become damp. Get ready for hand-to-hand combat, I'll shoot.

The scout put his finger in his mouth and whistled loudly and protractedly. The Mohicans guarding the rocks answered him in kind. Duncan managed to notice that the heads above the logs washed up on the shore instantly rose, but just as quickly disappeared from sight. Soon he heard a rustling sound, turned his head and saw Uncas a few steps away; the young Indian crawled deftly along the ground. Hawkeye said a few words to the Mohican in the Delaware language, and Uncas took up a new position with unusual caution and calm. Hayward experienced moments of feverish and impatient anticipation, and the scout found this time suitable for a lecture on the prudent and careful handling of rifles and pistols.

Of all types of weapons, he began his instructions, the most effective in experienced hands is a long-barreled gun, well polished and made of soft metal. However, to handle such a gun you need strong hands, a steady eye and a good aim; Only under such conditions will the gun show all its advantages. I believe that gunsmiths do not know their craft well when they make short guns and cavalry rifles...

A quiet but expressive exclamation from Uncas interrupted his speech.

“I see, I see, friend,” Hawkeye continued. - They are preparing to attack, otherwise they wouldn’t raise their backs above the logs... Well, great! - he added, looking at his gun. - The first of them, of course, will meet certain death, be it Montcalm himself.

A new burst of wild cries came from the forest, and at this signal four savages jumped out from behind the logs that covered them. The waiting was so painful that Heyward felt a burning desire to rush towards them, but he was stopped by the calmness of Uncas and the scout. The Hurons jumped over the black ridges of rocks that towered in front of them and rushed forward with a wild howl.

When they found themselves a few fathoms from the scout and his comrades, Hawkeye's gun slowly rose above the bushes, and the fatal bullet flew out of the long barrel. The leading Huron jumped like a shot deer and fell between the cliffs.

Now, Uncas, it’s your turn,” Hawkeye ordered and, his eyes sparkling, he pulled out his long knife from his belt. - The last of these demons is yours. We can handle the rest, don't worry about them.

Hayward gave Hawkeye one of his pistols and, together with the scout, began to quickly descend towards the enemies. The scout and the major fired at the same time, but both were unsuccessful.

I knew it, I said so! - Hawkeye whispered and contemptuously threw the small pistol into the waterfall. - Well, come on, bloodthirsty hell dogs!

And immediately a gigantic figure of an Indian with a cruel, ferocious face rose in front of him. At the same time, hand-to-hand combat began between Duncan and the other redskins. Hawkeye and his opponent with equal dexterity grabbed each other by their raised hands, clutching terrible knives. For a minute they stood motionless, tensing their muscles and trying to overcome each other. The swollen muscles of the white were victorious over the less sophisticated muscles of the Huron - the hands of the savage yielded to the efforts of the scout. Suddenly Hawkeye finally freed himself from the enemy and with one blow of the knife pierced his chest.

Meanwhile, Hayward fought fiercely with his enemy, and death threatened the young officer. In the very first fight, the Indian knocked Hayward's thin sword out of his hands, and the major was left without protection; Duncan's entire salvation depended only on his strength and dexterity. He lacked neither one nor the other, but he met an opponent who was not inferior to him. Fortunately, Hayward managed to disarm the Huron, and the Indian's knife fell with a clang on the stone.

From that moment a desperate struggle began: the question was which of the opponents would throw the other from a dizzying height.

Every minute they came closer to the cliff; here the final, final effort had to be made. Both put all their determination into this effort, and both stood staggering over the abyss. Hayward felt the savage's fingers digging into his throat, strangling him, and saw the evil smile of the Huron, who hoped to drag the enemy with him into the abyss and force him to share his terrible fate. The major's body slowly succumbed to the terrible strength of the redskin, but suddenly a dark hand flashed before Hayward's eyes and a knife blade flashed. The Huron's fingers instantly unclenched, and the saving hands of Uncas pulled Duncan away from the edge of the abyss. But the young major still could not take his eyes off the terrible face of the Indian, who had now fallen into the abyss.

Undercover! - Hawkeye shouted, having just finished off his opponent. - If you value your life, hide behind the stones. The matter is not over yet.

A victorious cry burst from the throat of the young Mohican, and he, accompanied by Duncan, quickly rose to the slope from which the major had fled before the start of the battle; both disappeared among the stones and bushes.

Avengers of Homeland

Still delaying.

The scout's warning was timely. While the struggle we have described was taking place, neither a human voice nor the sound of footsteps disturbed the monotonous roar of the waterfall. The Hurons watched the outcome of the fight with such tension that it seemed they could not move from their place. The fast movements of the combatants prevented them from shooting at their enemies, because their shots could be fatal to their friends. But when it was all over, a fierce howl arose, and rifle shots began to flash one after another, sending leaden messengers in whole volleys, as if the attackers were pouring out anger on the senseless rocks.

Chingachgook's gun answered them with unhurried but well-aimed fire. The elder Mohican, with dispassionate firmness, did not leave his post throughout the entire previous scene. Only when the victorious cry of Uncas reached his ears did the father answer the young man with a joyful exclamation, but immediately froze again, And now only his shots proved that he was guarding his post with unshakable zeal.

So many minutes flew by with the speed of thought. The attackers fired either in volleys or scatteredly. And, although the surrounding rocks, trees and bushes were all riddled with bullets, so far the only casualty of the entire small detachment was poor David, so safe was the shelter of the besieged.

“Let them burn their gunpowder,” said Hawkeye calmly, listening to the bullets whistle as they flew past the rock behind which he was hiding in safety. - So much the better: when the matter is over, we will pick up the bullets. And I think these demons will get tired of the fun before the stones ask them for mercy... Uncas, boy, you are wasting gunpowder and pouring too much of it. The gun recoils and the bullet flies poorly. I told you: aim at this villain so as to hit him under the white line, but your bullet hit two inches above. The life of the Mings is hidden deeply, and experience teaches us to quickly deal with snakes.

A calm smile lit up the young Mohican's features, revealing his knowledge of the English language, but Uncas did not answer.

“It’s in vain that you blame Uncas for his lack of art,” said Duncan. “He saved my life in the most intelligent, courageous way.” Now I am his friend forever and will never forget what I owe him.

Uncas rose and extended his hand to Heyward.

At the moment of this friendly handshake, the young people looked at each other knowingly, and Duncan forgot about the character and social position of his wild comrade. Meanwhile, Hawkeye, who looked calmly and kindly at this manifestation of youthful feelings, said:

In deserts and forests, friends often provide such services to each other.

And I happened to help Uncas out of trouble, and I remember very well that he shielded me from death five times: three times in a collision with the Mingami, once when crossing the Horiken and...

This bullet was fired better than the rest! - Duncan screamed and involuntarily recoiled from the rock that was hit by the shot.

Hawkeye picked up the flattened bullet, shook his head and said:

Lead falling at the end of its life never gets flattened. This could only happen if the bullet fell from the clouds.

Uncas raised his gun, and everyone else's eyes turned upward. The mystery was instantly revealed. On the right bank of the river a mighty oak rose; this tree leaned forward so much that its upper branches hung over the river. In the midst of the foliage, which barely covered the gnarled branches of the old oak tree, nestled a Huron; He either hid behind the trunk or looked out from behind the branches, wanting to make sure whether his shot hit the target.

These demons are ready to climb to the very sky just to destroy us,” said the scout. “Keep him at gunpoint, boy, while I load my deerkiller.” Then we will immediately shoot at the tree from both sides.

Uncas waited for the scout's signal. Finally two shots flashed. The bark and leaves of the oak tree flew into the air, and the wind blew them in different directions. The savage answered his enemies only with a mocking laugh and sent another bullet, which knocked the hat off Hawkeye's head. And again a wild, ferocious cry burst out of the forest thickets and leaden hail whistled over the heads of the besieged; it seemed as if the savages wanted to force their enemies not to move, in order to make it easier for the warrior who had climbed a tall oak to take aim.

“We need to protect ourselves from bullets,” said the scout. - Uncas, call your father: we need all the guns to cope with the cunning devil and knock him out of his nest.

The signal sounded, and before Hawkeye had time to load his gun, Chingachgook was already nearby. When Uncas showed the experienced warrior the position occupied by the enemy, only the usual exclamation of “oooh” escaped the lips of the old Mohican; He did nothing else to express either his surprise or alarm. Hawkeye and the Mohicans consulted animatedly for a few seconds in the Delaware dialect, and then each of them calmly took his place, preparing to carry out the intended plan.

From the moment the besieged noticed the warrior hiding among the branches, his shots became erratic, because as soon as he appeared from under cover, the enemy’s guns threatened him.

Still, his bullets sometimes reached them. Hayward's uniform was pierced in several places. Blood appeared on one of his sleeves, emerging from a slight wound.

Finally, encouraged by the patient waiting of the enemies, the Huron tried to take better aim. The quick glances of Chingachgook and Uncas immediately caught his intentions. Through the scanty foliage, a few inches from the oak trunk, the legs of a savage flashed, and the Mohican guns instantly fired. Huron sat down on his wounded leg, and his whole body appeared from under cover.

With the quickness of thought, Hawkeye took advantage of this and fired his fatal "deer-killer." The leaves of the oak tree began to ripple, the Huron's gun fell from its height, and after a short vain struggle the body of the savage swayed in the air, although he still desperately clung to the exposed branch of the tree.

In the name of mercy, put a bullet in him! - Duncan exclaimed, looking away from the unfortunate man in horror.

“I won’t waste a single pellet,” Hawkeye said firmly. He died anyway, and we don’t have extra gunpowder, meanwhile the battle with the Indians sometimes lasts for several days. The question is whether they will keep their scalps or ours.

No one could object to such a harsh and unshakable decision.

The screams in the forest fell silent, the shots weakened; the gazes of friends and enemies did not leave the unfortunate man hanging between heaven and earth. The wind rocked the body, and although no groans or murmurs escaped from the lips of the dying man, from time to time he looked gloomily at his opponents, and then, despite the distance, they read the anguish of despair in his facial features. Three times the scout raised his gun, three times caution stopped him, and the long muzzle of the famous “deer slayer” slowly lowered. Finally, one of the Huron’s arms unclenched and, weakened, hung along his body. Desperately, but fruitlessly, he tried to take control of the branch again - his hand convulsively grabbed the emptiness. The lightning was no faster than Hawkeye's shot; the savage's corpse trembled and, like lead, fell into the foaming waves of the river.

Not a single cry of victory filled the air after this event, and even the stern Mohicans silently looked at each other in horror. A terrible scream came from the forest again. Only one Hawkeye retained the ability to reason; he shook his head and muttered reproachfully:

It was the last charge of gunpowder, the last bullet from the bag... I acted like a boy,” he said. - Well, did it really matter to me whether he fell into the water alive or dead!.. Uncas, my boy, go to the pirogue and bring the big horn from there. Our entire supply of gunpowder is there. Unfortunately, we will probably soon use up every last bit of it. If I'm wrong, let them say that I don't know the Macuas at all.

The young Mohican quickly went to carry out the scout's orders. Hawkeye sadly and uselessly sorted through the contents of his bag and tried in vain to scrape the gunpowder from the empty powder flask. His occupation was soon interrupted by the loud and piercing cry of Uncas. Even to Duncan's untrained ears, the young Mohican's exclamation seemed to be the signal of a new, unexpected disaster. Hayward quickly jumped up, completely forgetting about the danger that he could have brought upon himself by standing up to his full height. As if giving in to his impulse, everyone else also rushed into the narrow passage between the two caves. They moved so fast that their enemies' shots were wasted. Uncas's cry forced the sisters and the wounded David to leave their shelter, and soon everyone realized what misfortune had terrified the young Indian. Not far from the cliff a light scout's pirogue could be seen; she was rushing along the river, apparently under the control of some invisible swimmer. When Hawkeye saw this, he instantly raised his gun and pulled the trigger; a spark of flint flashed, but the barrel did not respond with a shot.

Late! Too late! - Hawkeye exclaimed and dropped the gun to the ground in despair. - This villain passed the rapids, and even if we had gunpowder, I could not stop him with a bullet.

Meanwhile, the enterprising Huron raised his head over the side of the pirogue and, sliding with the current, waved his hand in the air. A victorious cry flew from his chest; Howls, laughter and ferocious screams answered him from the forest.

Laugh, children of Satan! - muttered the scout, sitting down on a rock ledge. - The most accurate guns, the best three guns in these forests, are now no more dangerous than last year’s deer antlers!

What to do now? - asked Duncan. - What will happen to us?

Instead of answering, Hawkeye simply ran his finger around the crown of his head, and this movement was so eloquent that no one who saw the scout’s gesture could doubt its meaning.

No, no, our situation cannot be so hopeless! - exclaimed the young major. - The Hurons are not here yet, we have the opportunity to strengthen the caves and prevent them from landing.

And by what means, I ask you? - Hawkeye's question was heard. - With the arrows of Uncas or the tears of girls? No, no, you are young, rich, you have friends, and I understand that it is difficult to die at your age. But,” he added and turned his gaze to the Mohicans, “we should not forget that you and I are white.” Let us show the inhabitants of these forests that the whites shed their blood as fearlessly as the redskins when their last hour comes!

Duncan looked in the direction the scout was looking; the behavior of the Indians confirmed his worst fears.

Chingachgook sat in a proud pose on a piece of rock; he placed a knife and a tomahawk on the stone, took an eagle feather from his head and smoothed his only strand of hair, as if preparing it for the last, terrible purpose. The Indian's face was calm, although thoughtful; his dark eyes little by little lost their warlike shine and took on an expression of dispassion and readiness for death.

“I don’t believe that our situation is completely hopeless,” Duncan repeated. “Help can come at any second, and I don’t see a single enemy.” They are tired of the struggle, during which they are exposed to too much danger, without seeing sufficient benefits ahead.

Maybe in a minute... in an hour these snakes will creep up on us. At this very moment they are able to lie down and listen to us,” said Hawkeye. “Chingachgook,” he added in the language of the Delaware, “my brother, you and I fought together for the last time... Now the Macuas will triumph at the thought of the death of the wise Mohican and his pale-faced friend, whose eyes see at night as well as during the day.” .

Let the wives of the Mings cry over their dead! - the Indian answered with unshakable firmness and pride. - The Great Serpent of the Mohicans coiled his coils in their wigwams, poisoned their victorious cries with the cries and groans of children whose fathers did not return home. Since the last snow melted, eleven warriors have fallen asleep forever far from the graves of their forefathers, and no one will say where they fell after Chingachgook's tongue is silenced forever. Let the sharp knives of the Macuas be drawn, let their fastest tomahawks fly into the air, because the greatest enemy of the Mings has fallen into their hands... Uncas, last shoot of the noble tree, call these cowards, order them to hurry.

“They are looking for their dead fellow tribesman there, among the fish,” answered the quiet, soft voice of the young leader. - The Hurons swim with the slippery eels. Like ripe fruits, they fall from the branches of the trees, and the Mohicans laugh.

Wow! - muttered Hawkeye, who was listening with deep attention to the speech of the natives. “Perhaps their ridicule will hasten the revenge of the Macuas.” But I am white, without any admixture of Indian blood, and therefore it is fitting for me to die the death of a white man, that is, without abuse on my lips and without bitterness in my heart.

But why die? - said Cora, retreating from the rock to which she was chained by a feeling of horror. - The path is open on all sides. Run into the forest and ask God to help you. Go, brave people, we already owe you too much, we shouldn’t force you to share our misfortune.

“You don’t know the cunning Iroquois very well, lady, if you think that they haven’t cut off all the routes to retreat into the forest,” answered Hawkeye and immediately added innocently:

Of course, if we swam down the river, the current would soon carry us to a distance beyond the reach of either their shots or the sound of their voices.

Try to escape by swimming! Why stay here and increase the number of victims! - Cora said in a fit of generosity.

For what? - the scout repeated, proudly looking around. - Because it is better for a person to die with a clear conscience than to be tormented by remorse for the rest of his life. What will we say to Munro when he asks us where we left his daughters?

Go to him and tell him that you came for help for them,” Cora said and approached the scout. - Say that the Hurons are leading his daughters to the northern deserts, but that they can still be saved if they hurry. If, despite all this, the Lord wills for help to be late, bring your father... - Cora’s voice trembled, and she hardly suppressed tears, - our blessing, last prayers, greetings full of love...

A spasm ran across the scout’s stern, weather-beaten face, and when Cora fell silent, he rested his chin on his hand, as if in deep thought over her words.

There is some sense in these speeches,” finally escaped his trembling lips. - Chingachgook, Uncas! Do you hear what the black-eyed girl says?

And he spoke to his comrades in the Delaware dialect. Although the scout's speech flowed slowly and calmly, there was a strong determination in his tone. The elder Mohican listened in deep silence and, apparently, weighed the words of his comrade, as if aware of their enormous significance. After a moment's hesitation, Chingachgook waved his hand in agreement and said “okay” in English with such expressiveness, which is characteristic only of the Indian voice. Then, thrusting his knife and tomahawk into his belt, the warrior slowly approached the edge of the cliff, the least visible from the banks of the river. Here he stood for a moment, pointed significantly to the forest below, uttered a few words in his own language, accurately defining the path he had planned, rushed into the water, dived and disappeared from the eyes of observers.

The scout paused a moment to say a few words to Cora, who sighed with relief when she saw the impact her words had.

Sometimes the same wisdom appears in a young soul as in an old one, he said. - If you are taken into the forests, that is, those of you who will be temporarily spared, break branches of bushes and trees along the way and try to move so that a wide trail remains. Then, believe me, there will be a friend who will not leave you, even if he has to follow you to the ends of the earth!

He affectionately shook Cora's hand, raised the gun, looked at it sadly, again carefully placed his “deer killer” on the stone, and finally went down to the place of the river where Chingachgook had disappeared. Hawkeye hung on the rock for a moment, looked around worriedly and said bitterly:

If only I had gunpowder left, there would not be such misfortune and shame! Finally he unclenched his hands and found himself in the water; the jets closed over his head, and he disappeared.

Now the gazes of those remaining turned to Uncas, who stood motionless, leaning against the cliff. Cora told him:

The enemy did not notice our friends, and they are now probably safe. Isn't it time for you to follow them?

Uncas will stay,” the young Mohican answered calmly in English.

This will only make our captivity even harder and reduce the possibility of salvation for us,” said Cora. “Go, generous young man,” she continued, lowering her eyes under the Mohican’s gaze and vaguely guessing her power over him. “Go to my father, as I have already told others, and be the most faithful of my messengers.” Tell him to give you money to ransom his daughters from captivity. Go! I wish this! I ask you to go!

The young leader's calm expression turned sad, but he stopped hesitating. With silent steps, Uncas crossed the rocky platform and slid into the stormy stream. Almost without breathing, those remaining looked at the river until his head appeared above the water quite far from the island. Taking a deep breath, Uncas disappeared under the water again.

This quick and apparently successful maneuver by the three forest dwellers took only a few minutes. Looking after Uncas for the last time, Cora turned to Hayward and said with trembling lips:

I heard that you are also famous for the art of swimming. So, follow them!

Follow the prudent example of these simple-hearted people!

But does Cora Munro require just such proof of fidelity from her protector? - Duncan answered with a sad smile, and there was bitterness in his tone.

Now is not the time to argue,” the girl replied. “The moment has come when everyone’s duty is to prove themselves in the best possible way.” You will be of no use here, but your precious life may be saved for other, closer friends.

Duncan did not answer, but only looked at the lovely Alice, who was clinging to his hand with childish helplessness.

Think,” Cora continued after a short silence, during which she apparently tried her best to drown out the pain in herself, even more acute than fear, “after all, death is the worst thing that can await us, and no one can escape death.

There are misfortunes worse than death,” Duncan answered sharply, as if annoyed at her persistence, “but a person who is ready to die for you can avert them.”

Cora stopped persuading him and, covering her face with a shawl, carried the almost unconscious Alice into the depths of the second cave.

Be cheerful, my love,

Don't be afraid.

Drive away the bright cloud with a smile,

What darkened the tender brow.

"The Death of Agrippina"

The noise and excitement of the battle, as if by magic, were replaced by silence, and to Hayward’s excited imagination it all seemed like some kind of terrible nonsense. What happened was deeply imprinted in his memory, and yet he could hardly convince himself of the reality of recent events. Not knowing what fate befell the people who entrusted themselves to the fast flow, Duncan listened carefully, waiting for some signals or sounds of alarm by which he could find out whether the risky escape was successful. But he strained his attention in vain: nothing spoke of the fate of these brave people. In this moment of sorrowful doubt, Duncan forgot about the need to hide behind a rock, which only recently had to be resorted to for safety. However, every attempt to detect even the slightest hint of the approach of enemies was as fruitless as the search for sailing friends. It seemed that all living things had left the wooded banks of the river again. The fishing hawk, which had been watching the battle from afar, sitting on the upper branches of a dry pine tree, now flew down from its high perch and, describing wide circles, hovered over its prey. The jay, whose shrill voice was drowned out by the wild howl of the Indians, again filled the air with discordant cries, as if believing that dominion over the wilderness had returned to it. These sounds brought back a faint glimmer of hope in Duncan; he gathered his strength for the upcoming fight, and the confidence in victory revived in him.

The Hurons are nowhere to be seen,” he said to David, who was still recovering from the blow that had stunned him. - Let's hide in the cave. For the rest, let providence do the will!

I remember that I, together with two lovely girls, sent praise and thanksgiving to the Almighty,” David spoke in a semi-conscious state, “but I suffered a cruel... however, just punishment for my sins. I seemed to fall asleep, but it was not a real dream. The sharp, discordant sounds of battle tore my ears. It was chaos. It seemed that the end of the world had come and nature had forgotten about harmony.

Poor fellow! You were truly on the verge of death. But get up, follow me. I will take you to a place where you will hear no other sounds except psalmody.

There is a melody in the noise of the waterfall, and the murmur of the waters is sweet,” said David, pressing his hand to his head, full of confusion. - But aren’t there squeals and such screams in the air that it seems as if the souls of the condemned...

“No, no,” Hayward interrupted him impatiently, “the screams stopped.” Everything is quiet and calm, except for the water... So, go to a place where you can calmly sing the songs you love so much.

David smiled sadly, but at the mention of his favorite activity, a ray of pleasure flashed across the psalmist’s face.

Without hesitation, he allowed himself to be taken to the cave, hoping there to soothe his exhausted ears with the melody. Leaning on Duncan's hand, Gamut went to the sisters, and Duncan grabbed an armful of sassafras, covered the entrance to the cave with fragrant branches and disguised it. Behind this fragile barrier he hung the blankets abandoned by the forest dwellers; Thus, light could not penetrate into the inner cave, but a light reflection poured into the outer cave from a narrow gorge along which one branch of the river rushed forward to merge there, downstream, with another water stream.

“I don’t like the rule of the natives, which forces them to submit to misfortune without a fight,” said Duncan, continuing to arrange the branches. - Our rule: “Until life runs out, hope does not disappear” is much more comforting and more consistent with the character of a warrior. I won’t console you, Cora, you have enough courage. But can you not dry the tears of the poor thing who, trembling, clings to your chest?

“I’ve become calmer, Duncan,” Alice answered, moving away from her sister and trying, despite her tears, to appear firm, “much calmer.” Of course, here, in this closed cave, we are safe: we will not be found, no harm will be done to us, and we can hope for the help of brave people who have already endured terrible dangers for our sake.

“Now our gentle Alice speaks as befits a Munro daughter,” said Hayward, and, approaching the outer entrance to the cave, he stopped to shake her hand. “Having two such examples of courage before you, it’s a shame to be a coward.”

Duncan sat down in the middle of the cave and frantically clutched his surviving pistol; The major's stern eyes spoke of his gloomy despair.

If the Hurons come here, they will not take this position so easily,” he muttered and, leaning his head against the rock, began to patiently wait for further events, without taking his eyes off the entrance to the grotto.

When the sound of his voice ceased, there was a long, deep, almost dead silence. The fresh morning air filtered into the cave. Minute after minute passed, nothing disturbed the peace; a feeling of hope arose in the souls of those awaiting help.

David alone did not share the general excitement. He sat indifferently. A ray peering into the opening of the cave illuminated his exhausted face and fell on the pages of the volume, which the singer began to leaf through again, as if looking for the song most suitable for this moment. Gamut's efforts were soon crowned with success; he said loudly: “Isle of Wight,” drew a long, gentle sound from his tuning fork, and in his own, even more musical voice, sang the introductory modulations to the hymn whose name he had just announced.

Could this be dangerous? - asked Cora, and her dark eyes looked questioningly at the major.

- "Isle of Wight"! - David repeated and looked around with that important look that helped him suppress the whispers of his students. - This hymn has a beautiful melody and solemn words. And it must be sung with due respect.

After a short silence, the singer’s voice was heard, quiet rumbling sounds were heard, and finally the melody filled the narrow cave. Everyone listened with deep excitement to the enchanting melody flowing, everyone forgot about the meaninglessness of the spoken words. Alice unconsciously wiped away a tear and looked softly at Gamut’s pale face, not hiding her delight. Cora smiled approvingly, and Hayward averted his intense gaze from the entrance to the cave, looking first at David, then at Alice, whose eyes shone with delight. The sympathy of the listeners touched the soul of the music fan; his voice regained its former fullness and strength. The singer made a new effort, and long, powerful sounds poured out. Suddenly a terrible scream was heard outside. The sacred hymn was instantly interrupted; the singer fell silent, as if the heart of the unfortunate man had approached his larynx and immediately strangled the psalmist.

We are dead! - Alice screamed, throwing herself into Cora's arms.

Not yet, not yet! - answered an excited but undaunted Hayward.

A cry came from the middle of the island and burst out from the savages at the sight of their killed comrades. They have not opened our refuge, and hope has not yet died out for us.

No matter how weak the possibility of salvation was, Duncan’s words were not in vain: his remark revived the girls’ energy so much that they found the strength to silently wait for further events.

Soon a howl was heard, then voices were heard in various places on the island; At first they were heard at its far end, then they began to approach the cave.

Finally, amid the confusion and noise, a triumphant, victorious cry rang out a few yards from the camouflaged entrance to the cave. Hayward decided that their refuge had been found, and the remnant of hope died out in his soul. But he again calmed down a little when he heard screams coming from near the stone on which Hawkeye had so regretfully laid his gun. The major could clearly distinguish the Indians' speech; he heard not only individual words, but also entire phrases spoken in Canadian jargon, which was based on the French language. Suddenly a chorus of voices repeated: “Long Carbine!” These words echoed in the neighboring forest, and Hayward remembered that this name had been given by the enemies to a hunter and scout of the English army; Only now did Duncan realize who his companion was.

“Long Carbine, Long Carbine...” - passed from mouth to mouth, and now the whole gang, apparently, gathered near the military trophy, which seemed to prove the death of its terrible owner. Then the Hurons scattered again over the island, ringing the air with the name of the enemy, whose body, as Heyward understood from the Hurons' exclamations, they thought to find in some crevice.

Now,” Hayward whispered to the girls, “everything will soon be decided.”

If the Hurons do not find our shelter, we will survive. In any case, judging by the phrases that I managed to understand, our friends were saved, and soon we can expect help from Webb.

Several minutes of terrible calm passed. Hayward understood that at this time the Hurons were carrying out new, more thorough searches. He could hear the footsteps of the Hurons brushing against the branches of the sassafras; I heard dry leaves rustling and twigs breaking with a crash. Finally, the pile of branches gave way slightly, one corner of the blanket fell, and a faint light began to play in a distant corner of the cave. Cora clutched Alice to her chest in horror, and Duncan jumped up. An exclamation sounded from the depths of the outer cave, and this meant that enemies had entered it. A minute later, numerous voices made it clear to the listeners that all the savages had gathered near their shelter.

Since only a short distance separated the inner passages of both caves, Duncan knew that escape was impossible. He walked past David and both girls and stopped near the entrance, expecting a terrible meeting. Now only a few feet separated him from his merciless pursuers. The major pressed his face to the hole and looked out with the indifference of despair, watching the movements of the Hurons.

He could have touched the muscular shoulder of the giant Indian, whose commanding and authoritative voice directed the actions of all his comrades. Under the arch of another cave, a crowd of savages turned over and shook up the things that made up the scout’s modest property. The blood from David's wound stained the sassafras leaves; Seeing this proof of the success of their actions, the Indians grabbed the fragrant branches that covered the floor of the cave, dragged them into the crevice and began to scatter them, as if suspecting that they were hiding the body of a hated and dangerous person. The fierce-looking warrior picked up an armful of branches, pointed with glee at the dark blood stains on the leaves and shouted something. Hayward could understand the meaning of his words only because he repeated the name "Long Carbine" several times. The triumphant voices of the Hurons fell silent; the warrior threw a branch onto the pile that Duncan had made in front of the entrance to the second cave, and thus blocked the hole through which the major was looking. The rest of the savages imitated him; pulling branches from the scout's cave, they threw them onto a pile of sassafras branches, not realizing that in this way they themselves were hiding the people they were looking for.

When, under the pressure of new armfuls of greenery, the blankets gave way, and the branches, from their own weight, clogged into the cracks of the stones, forming a dense mass, Duncan, breathing freely, returned to the middle of the cave and stopped in his previous place, from which he could see the second exit, facing the river. At the moment when he was retreating from the pile of sassafras, the Indians, as if yielding to a common impulse, cleared a passage between the two caves, and now they were heard to run again along the island to the rocks on which they had recently landed. Their new plaintive cry proved that they had again gathered near the bodies of their killed comrades.

Now Duncan decided to look at his companions, because during the dangerous minutes he was afraid to frighten the girls even more with his alarmed face.

“They’re gone, Cora,” he whispered. - Alice, they returned to the place where they first appeared, and we are saved.

Then I will thank heaven! - said Alice, freeing herself from Cora's embrace and kneeling down. - I will thank heaven, which saved our gray-haired father from the tears and saved the lives of those whom I love most in the world...

Duncan and Cora observed the sincere feeling with warm sympathy. And Duncan thought that never had a prayer come from a more beautiful creature than young Alice.

Alice's eyes shone with the light of gratitude, a lovely blush filled her cheeks; but, when her lips were already opened for prayer, the words that they were about to utter suddenly froze, the blush was replaced by deathly pallor, the gentle shine of her eyes went out, her facial features were distorted with horror, her convulsively clenched fingers pointed at something. Hayward turned and, looking at the flat rock that formed, as it were, the threshold of the open opening of the cave, he saw the evil, ferocious features of the Sly Fox.

Despite the surprise, Duncan did not lose his composure. From the expression on the Indian's face, the major realized that Magua had not yet managed to see anything in the twilight of the cave. He was about to retreat behind the ledge of the wall, which could still hide him and his companions, but at that moment he realized that it was too late to retreat.

The expression of deep triumph in the savage's features infuriated Duncan; forgetting everything in the world and yielding only to the impulse of anger, Hayward took aim and fired. The whole cave began to buzz, as if from the sound of a volcanic eruption; when the wind blowing from the gorge dissipated the clouds of smoke emitted by the grotto, there was no one in the place where the evil face of the traitorous guide had just been seen. Hayward rushed to the exit and saw the dark figure of a savage creeping along a low narrow ledge of rock and soon completely disappeared from sight.

After the thunder of the shot, a terrible silence reigned among the savages, but when the Fox’s long and understandable cry was heard, the stamping of feet and screams began to approach again, and before Duncan had time to recover from the shock, the fragile barrier of branches was scattered in all directions. Indians poured into the cave from both ends. Hayward and the girls were pulled from their cave shelter and surrounded by a crowd of triumphant Hurons.

I'm afraid that in the morning we'll oversleep the same way,

How unnoticed we stayed overnight.

Shakespeare. "A dream in a summer night"

As soon as this sudden misfortune struck, Duncan began to observe the actions of the victors. The redskins tugged at the decorations of his uniform, their eyes burning with a desire to take possession of the embroidery and braid. But the giant’s menacing shouts stopped the savages, and this convinced Hayward that they had decided to spare him, Cora and Alice until some special moment.

While the young Hurons showed signs of greed, the more experienced warriors continued to search both caves with an attention that proved that they were not satisfied with the success they had achieved. Finding no other victims, the zealous avengers approached Duncan and David, repeating the name "Long Carbine" and uttering these words with such an angry expression that it was impossible to doubt what they were asking. Duncan pretended that he did not understand the meaning of their questions, but David really did not know French. At last the persistence of the Hurons tired of Hayward; in addition, he was afraid to irritate his victors with stubborn silence. He looked around, searching with his eyes for Magua, who could translate his answers to the Hurons' questions; their voices sounded more and more insistent and menacing.

Magua's behavior differed sharply from that of his comrades.

While everyone else tried to satisfy their childish penchant for robbery, appropriating the scout's pitiful property. The cunning Fox stood calmly at a distance from the captives: he was apparently pleased, as if he had already achieved the main goal of his betrayal. When Hayward's eyes first met those of his recent guide, the major involuntarily turned away with horror from the ominous, although calm, face of Magua. However, having overcome disgust, he forced himself to talk to him.

“Sly Fox is too courageous a warrior,” Duncan said reluctantly, “to refuse to explain to an unarmed man what the victors say.”

“They ask where the hunter is who knows the forest paths,” Magua answered in broken English and with a fierce grin put his hand on the leaves that covered and bandaged the wound on his shoulder. - The gun of the Long Carbine is excellent, its eyes never blink, and yet this gun, like the short barrel of the white leader, is powerless to take the life of the Sly Fox.

The fox is too brave to remember the wounds he received in battle or the hands that inflicted them.

Was there a war going on when the Indian was resting under a sugar tree and wanted to eat bread? Who filled the bushes with creeping enemies? Whose tongue spoke of peace when his thoughts were bloodthirsty? Did Magua say that the tomahawk was taken out of the ground and that his hand dug up the battle-axe? Duncan did not dare to remind the enemy of his betrayal, he also did not want to increase his anger with any excuses, and therefore remained silent. Magua, it seemed, also decided to interrupt further conversations; he again leaned against the rock, from which he had moved away for a moment during his outburst of anger. When the impatient savages noticed that the short conversation between the white man and the Fox was over, shouts were heard again: “Long Carbine!” - Do you hear? - Magua said indifferently. “The Hurons demand Long Carbine's life, and if they are not satisfied they will kill those who hide it.

He left. They can't grab him.

The fox smiled coldly and answered contemptuously:

When a white man dies, he thinks that a moment of peace has come for him, but the redskins know how to torment even the ghosts of their enemies. Where is his body? Let the Hurons see his scalp.

He didn't die, he escaped.

Magua shook his head in disbelief.

Is he a bird and can spread his wings? Is he a fish and can swim without breathing air? The white leader thinks the Hurons are fools!

True, Long Carbine is not a fish, but he can swim. When all his gunpowder was burned and a cloud covered the Hurons' eyes, he swam downstream.

Why did the white leader stay? - Magua asked still incredulously. - Is he a stone that falls to the bottom? Or is the scalp burning his head?

Yana stone, your dead comrade who fell into the waterfall could have said this! - Duncan answered irritably, in a fit of vexation using those boastful expressions that could arouse the respect of an Indian. - But the white man believes that only cowards leave women.

Magua muttered a few unintelligible words through his teeth and continued aloud:

And the Delawares swim as well as they crawl in the bushes. Where is the Great Serpent?

Judging by these Canadian nicknames, Duncan realized that the Hurons knew his recent comrades much better than he did himself, and reluctantly answered:

He too floated downstream.

And the Swift Deer?

“I don’t know who you call that,” Duncan replied, taking the opportunity to drag out the conversation.

Uncas,” replied Magua, pronouncing the Delaware name with even greater difficulty than the English words.

Are you talking about the young Delaware? He too floated downstream.

Magua immediately believed what was said and thereby proved how little he thought about the fugitives. But his comrades needed these fugitives.

With characteristic Indian patience, they waited in complete silence until the conversation between the officer and the Fox ended. When Hayward fell silent, the savages turned their eyes to Magua. The fox pointed them to the river and explained everything with a few gestures and words.

Realizing what had happened, the savages raised a terrible cry, which showed all their disappointment. Some rushed to the river bank, waving their arms wildly in the air; others began to spit into the water, as if taking revenge on her for treacherously depriving them of their undoubted rights as victors. Some of the most ferocious cast glances at the captives from under their brows, burning with restrained rage. Two or three even expressed angry feelings with threatening hand movements; obviously, neither the beauty nor the feminine weakness of both sisters could protect them from the wrath of the Indians. The young officer was desperately trying to rush to Alice when one of the Hurons grabbed with his dark hand a strand of her luxurious hair, which fell in thick waves over her shoulders, and ran a knife in the air around her head. But as soon as Heyward made his first movement, he felt that the Indian, who was in charge of all the savages, squeezed his shoulder like pincers. He realized that it would be useless to fight against such an overwhelming force, and submitted to his fate, only quietly telling the girls that savages often make threats that they do not carry out.

But, trying to drive away the fear of Cora and Alice, Duncan did not even think of deceiving himself. He knew well that the authority of the Indian leader was very conditional and was supported by physical rather than moral superiority. And so the danger increased with the number of surrounding savages. Maintaining outward calm, Hayward felt his heart skip a beat when one of the Indians approached the helpless sisters or gloomily examined the fragile figures of the girls.

However, his fears eased significantly when he saw that the leader had called all the warriors to a council. Their disputes did not last long and, judging by the silence of most of the Indians, a unanimous decision was soon made. The few who spoke often pointed in the direction of Webb's camp, apparently fearing an attack from that direction. The thought of a detachment of Englishmen probably made them quickly decide on something and accelerated everything that followed.

The savages carried the light pirogue to a place in the river that was located near the exit from the outer cave. As soon as this was done, the leader of the Hurons ordered the prisoners to go down to the lower stones and sit in the pirogue.

It was impossible to resist, so Duncan set an example of submission by heading towards the pirogue, and soon he was sitting in the boat with both sisters and a still amazed David. Although the Hurons could not know the narrow channel between the whirlpools and rapids of the stream, they were too well aware of the general signs of dangerous places for them to make any significant mistake. When the pilot chosen to guide the pirogue took his place, the Indians rushed into the river again, the pirogue slid down the stream, and in a few seconds the captives found themselves on the south bank of the river, almost opposite the rock on which they had landed the day before.

Here the savages again seriously, but briefly, consulted among themselves. At the same time, they brought horses from the forest, which their owners considered the cause of their misfortune. The Huron crowd was now divided. The main leader mounted Hayward's horse and moved across the river, and after him most of his companions rushed into the water. Soon they all disappeared into the forest. The prisoners remained under the care of six savages, led by the Sly Fox. With increasing excitement, Hayward watched the actions of the savages. Seeing the extraordinary restraint of the Indians, Hayward hoped that they would take him to Montcalm as their prisoner. The brain of people in trouble never sleeps, and hope, even the weakest, gives food to the imagination, so Duncan already imagined that Montcalm would try to turn Munro's fatherly feelings into a weapon with which he would try to force the veteran to forget about his loyalty to the English king . And, although it was known that the French commander had a courageous and enterprising character, it was believed that he was an expert in all sorts of political intrigues that did not require the manifestation of high moral qualities and which so discredited European diplomacy of that time.

But the behavior of the Hurons immediately destroyed all these considerations of Duncan. That part of the Indians that followed the red-skinned giant headed towards Horican, and Heyward realized that he and his companions were in for a terrible captivity among the wild.

Desiring to know everything, even the worst, and deciding, as a last resort, to try to resort to the power of money, he overcame his disgust with Magua and turned to his former guide in the most friendly, confidential tone that he could portray:

I would like to talk to Magua about something that is only fit for the ear of such a great leader.

The Indian looked contemptuously at the young officer and replied:

Speak. Trees don't have ears.

But the Hurons are not deaf, and those words that are suitable for great leaders can intoxicate other warriors. If Magua does not want to listen, the king's officer will be able to remain silent.

The Indian said a few casual words to his companions, who were clumsily saddling horses for the young girls; Then the Fox stepped aside and with a careful movement called Duncan after him.

Now speak,” he said, “if your words are suitable for Magua.”

"Sly Fox has proved that he has achieved the honorable nickname given to him by the Canadian fathers," Hayward began. “I see all his wisdom, I understand how much he did for us, and I will not forget this in the hour of gratitude.” Yes, the Fox is not only a great leader - he knows how to deceive his enemies.

What did the Fox do? - the Indian asked coldly.

Didn't he see that the forest was filled with hidden enemies? Didn't he notice that even a snake could not crawl past them unnoticed? Didn't he get lost deliberately to blind the eyes of the Hurons? Did not Magua pretend that he was returning to his tribe, which had treated him so badly and driven him out of their wigwams like a dog? And we? Did we not, noticing his intentions, help him, so that the Hurons would think that the white man considered his friend an enemy? Isn't it true? Oh, when the Sly Fox blinded the eyes of the Hurons with his wisdom, they forgot that they had once done him a lot of harm and forced him to flee to the Mohawks! They left Magua on the southern bank with the captives, while they themselves, like madmen, moved north. I know: the Fox wants, like a real fox, to turn around and take his daughters to the gray-haired rich Scotsman. Yes, Magua, I see everything and have already thought about how I should repay you for your wisdom. First of all, the head of Fort William Henry will give the Fox what such a great leader is obliged to give for a great service: the Fox will have a gold medal, his powder flask will overflow with gunpowder, his bag will ring as many dollars as there are pebbles lying on the coast of Horikan, and the deer will become lick his hands, knowing that he cannot escape from the shot of the gun that the leader will receive. I don’t know how to surpass the generosity of a Scot... Wait. I... yes, I tell you... - What will the young leader who came from the sunrise give me? - asked the Huron, noticing that Hayward faltered.

From the islands that lie on Sunny Lake, he will conduct a stream of fiery water. This liquid will flow before the wigwams of Magua and will not stop until the Indian’s heart becomes lighter than a feather, and his breath becomes sweeter than the aroma of wild lungwort...

Magua listened seriously to Hayward's slow speech. When the young man mentioned that it seemed to him that the Indian had cunningly deceived the Hurons, the face of his listener assumed an expression of cautious reserve. When Hayward recalled the insults that had driven the Huron from the wigwams of his tribe, the Fox's eyes flashed with a fierce brilliance, and Duncan knew that he had touched just the very chord he should have touched. When he came to phrases with which he cunningly incited both the savage’s thirst for revenge and his greed, he, in any case, aroused his deep attention. The fox asked his last question, about the reward, calmly, with the usual importance of an Indian, however, judging by the thoughtful expression of his face, it was clear that he should have answered with prudent cunning. The Huron was silent for several moments, then, placing his hand on the rough bandage that covered his wounded shoulder, he said:

Do friends leave such signs?

Would the Long Carbine really inflict such a light wound on the enemy?

Do the Delawares crawl like snakes towards those they love in order to strike?

Would the Great Serpent really allow himself to be heard approaching someone whom he would like to see deaf?

Does the white leader often burn gunpowder in the face of his fellow men?

Does he miss if he really intends to kill? - Duncan replied with a well-acted grin.

After these quick questions and answers there was a long silence. Duncan noticed Magua's hesitation and, wanting to complete his victory, was about to start listing the awards again, but Magua stopped him with an expressive movement of his hand and said:

Enough! The fox is a wise leader, and what he does will be seen. Go and keep your lips closed. When Magua speaks, you will have time to answer him. Hayward noticed that the Fox was looking around warily at the rest of the Hurons, and immediately moved away so as not to give them the opportunity to suspect him of complicity with their leader. Magua approached the horses and pretended that he was very pleased with the diligence of his subordinates. Then he motioned for Hayward to help Cora and Alice board their Narragansetts. There was no longer a suitable excuse for delay, and Hayward was forced to comply. Helping Cora and Alice, who hardly raised their eyes for fear of seeing the evil faces of the Hurons, mount their horses, Duncan whispered to them about his revived hopes.

The Indians who went after the giant took David's horse with them, and therefore Gamut and Duncan were forced to walk. However, Hayward did not particularly regret this, since, by moving slowly, he could delay the entire detachment. His gaze still turned hopefully towards Fort Edward, and he waited for a noise to come from the forest that would let him know that the deliverers were approaching.

When everything was ready, Magua moved ahead of everyone. Following him was David, who, as the wound ceased to be felt, gradually began to realize his true position. Next came the sisters. Hayward stayed close to them, while the Indians walked on either side of the prisoners and brought up the rear. Their vigilance did not weaken for a minute.

Everyone was silent, only Duncan from time to time addressed words of consolation to Alice and Cora and Gamut poured out his soul in plaintive exclamations. The travelers headed south along a road completely opposite to the path to Fort William Henry. Despite this, Hayward still did not allow the thought that Magua would so soon forget about the reward offered to him; besides, the Huron needed caution.

Mile after mile the travelers moved through the endless forest, but there was no end in sight to this tedious journey.

Heyward watched the afternoon rays of the sun breaking through the branches of the trees, and longed for the moment when Magua would take the path favorable to travelers.

Cora, remembering the scout's farewell instructions, at the slightest opportunity stretched out her hand to bend the branch, but the vigilance of the Hurons prevented her from fulfilling this difficult and dangerous intention. Meeting the wary glances of the savages, the girl pretended to be frightened by something or began to adjust her costume. Only once did she bend a branch; at that very moment it occurred to her to drop her glove on the ground. This sign, intended for friends, was noticed by one of the Hurons; the Indian handed Cora a glove and immediately crushed and broke all the other branches of the bush so that it seemed as if they had been disfigured by some animal entangled in the thicket. After this, the Huron put his hand on his tomahawk with such a significant look that Cora had to give up the idea of leaving marks on the bushes.

Both detachments of Indians had horses, and therefore the captives lost hope that they would be found by horse tracks.

If the gloomy Magua had at least encouraged Hayward in any way, the major, of course, would have spoken to him. But the Fox rarely turned back and never uttered a word. Guided only by the sun and those barely visible signs that are known only to the natives, the Fox walked along the bare soil of the pine forest or crossed streams; his instincts helped him move in almost the same straight line as a bird flies. He never thought about it. Whether there was a barely noticeable path in front of him, whether it disappeared completely or stretched along a completely clear dirt path, he never slowed down or quickened his pace. It seemed that he did not know fatigue. And whenever the travelers’ eyes took their eyes off the road, covered with fallen leaves, and rushed forward, the dark figure of Magua was always visible between the tree trunks. He walked without turning his head, and the light feathers in his hair swayed with his own steps.

Finally Magua passed through a low hollow along which a cheerful stream ran, and began to climb the mountain along such a steep slope that Cora and Alice were forced to dismount. When the travelers reached the top of the hill, they found themselves on a flat area, sparsely covered with trees. Under one of them stretched out the dark figure of Magua, who obviously wanted to take advantage of the rest necessary for everyone else.

Cursed be my family,

When will I forgive him?

Shakespeare. "The Merchant of Venice"

The Indian chose to camp on one of the steep pyramidal, mound-like hills that are so common on the American plains. The top of this hill was a flat area, and one of the slopes was unusually steep. The hill seemed to be a position that excluded any possibility of a surprise attack, and, apparently, that is why the cunning Magua chose it as a camp site. Hayward indifferently and indifferently examined this hill, no longer hoping for help, then completely devoted himself to caring for his companions, trying to calm them down and encourage them.

The Narragansetts were unbridled and given the opportunity to nibble on the branches of trees and bushes scattered along the top of the hill. Duncan laid out the remains of the food supplies in the shade of a tall beech tree, the horizontal branches of which hung over the girls like a large canopy.

Despite the fact that the travelers moved non-stop, one of the Indians still managed to shoot an arrow at a young roe deer entangled in a thicket, killed it and, having cut off the most delicious parts of the animal, patiently carried them on his shoulders. Now he and his comrades ate raw meat, tearing it with their hands; only Magua did not take part in this feast; he sat, apparently completely immersed in deep thoughts.

Such abstinence, strange in an Indian, especially when he can satisfy his hunger without difficulty, attracted the attention of Hayward. The young man suggested that the Huron was at that moment coming up with the surest way to get rid of the vigilance of his comrades. Wanting to help the Huron come up with a clever plan, giving him some idea, Duncan came out of the shadow of the beech tree and, as if aimlessly, headed towards the Fox.

Hasn't Magua been facing the sun long enough and is still afraid of the Canadians? - asked Hayward, pretending that he was quite confident in the friendly disposition of the Indian. “Wouldn’t the commander of Fort William Henry be more pleased to see his daughters before the new night eclipses the sorrow for them in his heart, and he becomes less generous with his reward?”

Do pale-faced people really love children less in the morning than in the evening? - Magua asked coolly.

Of course not,” Hayward replied, wanting to correct his unwitting mistake. - It is true that sometimes whites forget the graves of their forefathers, but the affection of parents for their children never dies.

Is the gray-haired father's heart soft? Does he think, does he grieve about the children his wives gave him? He treats his warriors harshly and has a stony gaze.

He can be harsh with lazy and careless soldiers, but for the sober and brave, Munro is a fair and philanthropic boss. I have known many kind and loving fathers, but I have never met a man with a heart more full of fatherly love. Of course, Magua, you only ever saw the old man at the head of the warriors, but I saw how tears appeared in his eyes when he talked about his daughters...

Hayward stopped speaking; he did not know how to explain the strange expression that suddenly flashed on the face of the Indian, who was listening attentively to his words. At first it seemed to the young man as if the thought of the gifts promised to him had awakened in the savage’s soul, but little by little the expression of joy was replaced on the Indian’s face by the imprint of a fierce, evil triumph, apparently generated not by greed, but by another passion.

Listen,” said the Huron, and his face froze again in imperturbable calm, “go to the dark-haired daughter of the gray-haired man and tell her that Magua wants to talk to her.” The father will remember what his child promises. Duncan thought that the selfish Indian wanted to hear new confirmation of the promised rewards, and although slowly and reluctantly, he nevertheless moved towards the place where the girls were now resting. Approaching them, Hayward informed Cora of Magua's desire.

“You already know what Magua wants,” said Duncan, escorting her to the Huron, “so don’t be stingy, promising gunpowder and saddle cloths.” But remember that they value alcoholic drinks most of all. It will be good if you promise to give him something from yourself as well. Remember, Cora, that your life and Alice’s life depend on your self-control and ingenuity.

And yours, Hayward!

My life is not important. My father is not waiting for me, not many friends will regret my sad fate... But enough, we approached the Indian... Magua, this is the one you wanted to talk to.

The Indian rose slowly and stood silent and motionless for a minute, then motioned for Hayward to move away and said coldly:

When a Huron talks to women, his tribe closes their ears. Duncan hesitated, not wanting to obey, but Cora said with a calm smile:

You heard, Hayward, what the Indian wants. Go to Alice, encourage her and tell her about our plans.

Cora waited until the young man had walked away, then she turned to the Huron and said with great dignity:

What does the Sly Fox want to tell Munro's daughter?

“Listen,” answered the Indian, placing his hand on the girl’s shoulder, as if trying to force her to pay special attention to the words that he intended to say to her; however, Cora resolutely, although completely calmly, moved away from the savage. - Magua was born a leader and warrior of the Red Lake Huron tribe. He saw twenty times the summer sun melt the snow of twenty winters, turning the snowdrifts into streams, before he met the first pale-faced man. He was happy then! Then white people burst into his forests, taught him to drink fire water, and he became a slacker. Then the Hurons drove Magua out of the forests of his fathers and pursued him like a shaggy buffalo. He ran to the shores of the lake and finally saw the City of Cannons. Here he hunted and fished until the locals drove him out of the forest and into the hands of his enemies. Magua, born chief of the Hurons, became a warrior for his enemies, the Mohawks.

“I’ve already heard about this,” Cora said, noticing that the Huron had fallen silent.

He tried to suppress the violent excitement that began to flare up in him with a bright flame at the memory of the insults inflicted on him.

But is it the Sly Fox’s fault that his head is not made of stone? Who gave him fire water? Who turned him into a low man? Pale-faced people of your color!

Is it really my fault that there are unscrupulous people in the world with the same complexion as mine? - Cora asked calmly.

No. Magua is a warrior, not a fool. I know people like you never open their lips to drink the fiery liquid. The Great Spirit has given you wisdom.

What can I do or say to alleviate the consequences of your misfortunes or errors?

“Listen,” the Indian repeated, again assuming a calm and proud look.

When the French and English fathers dug their tomahawks out of the ground. The fox joined the ranks of the Mohawks and opposed his own tribe. The pale-faces drove the redskins out of the forests in which they hunted, and now, when the Indian tribes are at war, they are led by the white man. The great leader of Horikan, your father, stood at the head of our detachment. He ordered the Mohawks to do this or that, and they obeyed him. He announced: that the Indian would drink the fire water and come to the linen wigwams of his warriors, this would not be forgotten. Magua inadvertently opened his mouth, and the burning drink led him to Munro's hut. Let the gray-haired daughter tell what the leader did.

“He did not forget his promises and acted justly by punishing the culprit,” answered the fearless girl.

- "Fair"! - the Indian repeated, casting an angry glance at her calm face. - Is it fair to punish someone for doing evil? Magua was not himself; it was the fiery water that spoke and acted, not him. Munro didn't believe it. The Huron leader was tied up in front of pale-faced warriors and beaten like a dog!

Cora was silent, not knowing how to respond to these words.

Look! - continued Magua, tearing off a light piece of calico that hid his painted chest. - Look: here are the scars from wounds inflicted by knives and bullets. A warrior can boast of these scars to his fellow tribesmen, but, by the grace of the gray-haired man, marks remained on the back of the Huron leader, which he must hide under the multi-colored fabrics of the whites.

“And I thought,” said Cora, “that the Indian chief was patient, that his spirit did not feel or know the pain that his body endures.

“When the Chippeways tied Magua to a post and inflicted this wound on him,” the red man answered, pointing his finger at the deep scar, “the Huron laughed in their eyes, saying that only women were capable of stabbing so tenderly.” At those moments his spirit was in the clouds. But when he felt Munro's blows, his humble spirit lay under the birch tree. The Huron spirit never gets drunk and never forgets anything.

But he can be calmed down. If my father has treated you unjustly, show him that an Indian can forgive the insult and return his daughters to him. You've already heard from Major Hayward...

Magua shook his head sternly: he did not want to listen again to what he despised in his heart.

What do you demand? - Cora continued after several minutes of languid silence, feeling that the noble and generous Duncan had been cruelly deceived by the cunning of the savage.

I demand what is in the customs of the Huron: good for good, evil for evil.

So you want to take revenge on your defenseless daughters for the insult Munro inflicted on you? Is it not more worthy of a brave husband to go straight to him and demand satisfaction?

The hands of the pale-faced ones are long, their knives are sharp,” the savage answered and laughed evilly. - Why should the Fox stand under the shots of Munro’s warriors when the gray-haired soul is in the hands of the Huron!

Tell me, Magua, what do you want to do? - said Cora, making the greatest effort to speak firmly and calmly. - Do you want to take us somewhere into the forest or are you planning even greater evil? Are there no gifts that could make up for the insult done to you and soften your heart? I ask you to at least free my meek sister, pour out all your anger on me alone.

Gain wealth by letting her go; satisfy your vengeance by unleashing your wrath on just one victim. If the old man loses both his daughters, he will probably go to his grave. Who will then give the Fox generous gifts?

Listen,” the Huron said again. - The light-eyed one will return to the shore of Horiken and tell everything to the old leader, if only the dark-haired girl swears in the name of the Great Spirit of her forefathers not to lie.

What should I promise? - asked Cora, restraining the native’s rage with her feminine pride and calm.

When Magua left the Hurons, his wife was given to another chief. Now Magua has made friends with them again and will return back to the graves of his tribe, there, on the shores of the Great Lake. The English chief's daughter must go with him and live in his wigwam forever.

Suppressing her indignation, proud Cora calmly asked the Indian:

Will Magua be pleased to share his home with a wife whom he does not love, with the wife of a tribe of pale-faces alien to him? I think he would do better to accept Munro's gold and buy the heart of some Huron girl with his gifts.

The Indian was silent for a minute, looking into Cora’s face with such an expression that her eyes dropped in shame. Then he answered with particular gloating:

In this case, feeling the blows on his back again, the Huron would know where to find a woman to whom he would transfer his suffering. Munro's beautiful daughter would carry water for him, press his bread, fry his food. The body of the gray-haired leader would sleep among the cannons, but the Sly Fox would hold his heart in her hands.

Monster! You fully deserve your nickname! - Cora screamed, overcome by a fit of indignation. - Only the devil can come up with such revenge! But you are mistaken: you consider yourself too strong. True, Munro’s heart is in your hands, but it will not be afraid of your malice, no matter how great it is!

Fenimore Cooper - The Last of the Mohicans. Part 2., read the text

See also Fenimore Cooper - Prose (stories, poems, novels...):

The Last of the Mohicans. Part 3.
The girl’s bold words brought an ominous smile on the Huron’s face, which...

The Last of the Mohicans. Part 4
“It’s true, young man, it’s true,” the impatient old man interrupted him. ...

* * *

Preface

James Cooper (Fenimore is the maiden name of the writer's mother, taken by him as a pseudonym in his mature years of creativity) was born in 1789 in the taiga state of New York, abundant with fish and game, on the very border with Canada, when the United States had just gained independence. The eleventh child of a healthy Protestant family that flourished thanks to the business and political acumen of the family's head, Judge Cooper, James and his siblings grew up on the shores of Lake Otsego, next to the vast farmland that settlers had laboriously reclaimed from the forest. The life of the family flowed between a proper Christian household in the British style, in which respect for elders and a gentlemanly, chivalrous attitude towards women reigned, and the vast wild taiga, in which lived predators and those whom the settlers feared even more - the Indians.

Years have passed. James left wild land, became a law student, dreaming of a political career, then enlisted in the navy and sailed on warships for two years, then married his beloved girl, Susan Delancey, who belonged to one of the best families of the then New York (city). And then misfortunes fell on his family, previously cheerful and prosperous. James's beloved sister and confidante Hannah was the first to die, falling from a horse, then his father died in the prime of life, and then his four older brothers died one after another. The burden of caring for the family's farmland, ships and factories fell on James's shoulders, along with the need to take care of the well-being of the families of his late brothers - Cooper had more than twenty nephews and nieces. Unfortunately, having more than endowed Cooper the father with business talents, fate and nature were not generous in this regard to James. Economic failures, fires, unpaid loans, litigation with neighbors, who quickly realized that young Cooper was not at all as enterprising as the old one, almost completely ruined the family in just a couple of years. But with the help of his father-in-law and his wife’s relatives, James managed to improve the situation, and a little later, when the children of the eldest brother became adults, he was relieved to transfer the surviving family property to their management.

In 1815, the Coopers moved to Mamaroneck (now a suburb of New York), to their father-in-law's house on Long Island, where James began his political activities, and in 1818 they built their own house in Scarsdale (another New York suburb). In 1816 he became one of the founders of the American Bible Society. It is a non-profit, secular, interfaith organization that still publishes and distributes the Bible throughout the world.

Now it is the largest such organization in the world, one of the main assets of which is the world's largest (second only to the Vatican) collection of Bibles of all times and peoples.

In 1818, the mother of Susan, Cooper's wife, died. She was very sad and found solace only in reading English novels, which from time to time were delivered to New York by sea. She was especially fond of the works of Walter Scott and Jane Austen. But often she had to read novels by worse writers, or even completely empty ephemera. Looking at the suffering of the woman he loved, Cooper decided to write a novel himself that would console her. Susan didn't believe for a minute that James would have the patience for this. However, the loving husband rose to the occasion. In November 1820, when James Cooper was already over thirty, the New York publishing house of Andrew Thompson Goodrich anonymously published his novel “Precaution.” It was a family saga that quite successfully imitated English writers of the time. My wife liked the novel. The publication did not bring Cooper any money, but this work helped him discover a new productive field for which his natural inclinations could be useful - excellent qualities of a storyteller, an analytical mind and the need for creativity.

James Cooper began writing as an adult with established views. Here is what he wrote in 1822 in the journal Literary and Scientific Repositories and Critical Review: “Good prose, however paradoxical it may seem, appeals to our natural love of truth, not to the love of facts, real names and dates, but to the highest truth, which is the nature and main principle of the human mind. An interesting novel is addressed primarily to our moral principles, sense of justice and other principles and feelings that Providence has endowed us with, and addresses the human heart, which is the same for all people. Writers should avoid such topics as politics, religion, or social problems, and concentrate on the local moral and social characteristics that distinguish us Americans from other inhabitants of the earth."

In his works, Cooper clearly and relentlessly follows these principles. He does not take on the functions of a political fighter, especially since by that time he had lost his political illusions. As a consistent humanist and representative of the romantic movement in literature, he takes a small private story and, by telling it, shows us the “moral and social characteristics” of all of America during that period.

The innate sense of justice that James Cooper, as a true gentleman, was generously endowed with, the natural humanism and Christian conscience of this man made him a witness and narrator of one of the most terrible stories of human civilization.

There has long been a debate in the United States about whether the destruction of the American Indians by white European settlers constituted genocide. During colonization, for various reasons, according to various sources, from 15 to 100 million indigenous inhabitants of the continent died. The settlers poisoned the rivers along which entire tribes lived, burned down forests, exterminated bison - the main source of food for many tribes, and sometimes even fed Indian children to dogs. When the Indians tried to resist, they were declared cruel savages.

Americans, who are accustomed to considering themselves infallible, still find it difficult to admit that the well-being of their current civilization is built on the blood and bones of millions of legitimate inhabitants of the continent they like, so time after time, when considering this issue in Congress or the Senate, they decide: there was no genocide .

Let’s leave this on their conscience and turn to the best, according to critics, James Fenimore Cooper’s novel “The Last of the Mohicans,” the very name of which paints a tragic picture of the disappearance of an entire people.

The main character of the novel is Natty Bumppo, his other names are Hawkeye, Long Carbine or Leather Stocking. Natty is a hunter and trapper, a native of the lower classes of society, and in fact a hermit philosopher. He does not understand and does not accept the “advance of progress” and moves away from it deeper and deeper into the bowels of the continent. Like a true romantic hero, he draws his strength from nature, it is she who gives him clarity of mind and moral confidence. This character, much loved by readers, runs through all of Cooper's novels about wild life.

Here is what the American poet Richard Dana writes about Nutty in his private letter to Cooper: “Nutty’s uneducated mind, his simple solitary life, his simplicity combined with delicacy inspired me with admiration coupled with regret and concern. His image begins on such a high note that I was afraid whether this note would be able to be sustained to the end. One of my friends said: “I wish I could go into the woods with Natty!”

The novel “The Last of the Mohicans” is about human relationships: love, friendship, envy, enmity, betrayal. The story of the friendship between the white hunter Natty Bumppo and Chingachgook, an Indian from the extinct Mohican tribe, is an immortal creation of world literature. It is told against the backdrop of the story of the Seven Years' War between the British and the French for possession of those parts of North America located on the border of what is now the United States and what is now French Canada.

There has been much controversy regarding the images of the Indians Chingachgook and his son Uncas. During his political activities, Cooper often met with Indians. Among his acquaintances was Ongpatonga, the chief of the Omaha tribe, famous for his eloquence. Cooper accompanied him on a trip to Washington to speak to the government. Cooper also knew young Petalesjaro from the Pawnee tribe. “This young man could have been a hero of any civilized nation,” Cooper said about him. Researchers believe that it was these people who became the prototypes of Chingachgook and Uncas.

Cooper's contemporary critics reproached him for idealizing Indians. V. Parrington, a famous American cultural critic, wrote: “Twilight is a powerful wizard, and Cooper succumbed to the magic of twilight lighting, which surrounded the past well known to him with a soft halo.” To this Cooper replied that his description was not devoid of romance and poetry, as befits a novel, but he did not deviate one iota from the truth of life.

And we agree with the author, we see that, despite the desire to make the plot exciting and dynamic, Cooper the realist takes precedence over Cooper the romantic. The coming death of the American Indian civilization is the reality in which his characters live, act and die.

The author tells in an extremely delicate and chaste manner about the love of the daughter of an English colonel and the son of an Indian chief. Cooper paints this story with spare but unusually poetic strokes. Some researchers saw deep symbolism in the love and death of Uncas and Cora. Cora, partly African, and Uncas, a red-skinned man, have no future in America; they are victims of disgusting phenomena of American life that are unacceptable to Cooper - slavery and the extermination of Indians.

Perhaps this is precisely the main idea of the novel, the author of which looked with deep pessimism at what was happening in his native country.

In the early twenties of the 19th century, the American publicist Margaret Fuller wrote: “We use the language of England and with this flow of speech we absorb the influence of its ideas, alien to us and destructive to us.” And the London New Monthly wrote: “To talk about American literature is to talk about something that does not exist.”

James Fenimore Cooper was one of those who changed this state of affairs. At the end of Cooper’s life, the famous literary historian Francis Parkman wrote: “Of all American writers, Cooper is the most original and the most typically national... His books are a true mirror of that rough Atlantic nature which seems strange and new to the European eye. The sea and the forest are the scenes of the most remarkable achievements of his fellow citizens. They live and act on the pages of his books with all the energy and truthfulness of true life.”

Akulina Parfenova

The Last of the Mohicans, or the Narrative of 1757

Chapter I

I'm open news
And prepared with my heart.
Tell it like it is, even if it becomes bitter:
Is the kingdom lost?

W. Shakespeare1
Poetic epigraphs translated by E. Petrushevsky.

Perhaps, along the entire vast stretch of the border that separated the possessions of the French from the territory of the English colonies of North America, there will not be more eloquent monuments to the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755–1763 1
…cruel and ferocious wars of 1755–1763... - During these years, England and France fought colonial wars with each other in North America, the Caribbean, India and Africa, which was the basis for calling this period the First World War. The British fought the war for the northeastern part of what is now the United States and the southeastern part of what is now Canada, also called the Seven Years' War or the French and Indian War, against the French royal troops and the Indian tribes allied with them. In fact, the war ended in 1760 with the capture of Montreal by the British and the end of the French presence in North America. The entire territory of Canada then came under British rule. The Treaty of Paris brought a legal end to this war in 1763.

Than in the area lying at the sources of the Hudson and near the lakes adjacent to them.

This area provided such convenience for the movement of troops that they could not be neglected.

Champlain waters 2
Champlain waters... – Champlain is a freshwater lake, about 200 kilometers long, located in the states of New York, Vermont (USA) and the province of Quebec (Canada). It is famous for the legendary monster Champa that supposedly lives in it.

Stretched from Canada and went deep into the colony of New York; as a result, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient route of communication, along which the French could sail up to half the distance separating them from the enemy.

Near the southern edge of Lake Champlain, the crystal-clear waters of Lake Horiken, the Holy Lake, merge with it.

The Holy Lake meanders between countless islets and is surrounded by low coastal mountains. It stretches in curves far to the south, where it abuts the plateau. From this point began a multi-mile portage 3
…multi-mile portage... – Volok – a pass in the upper reaches of rivers of various basins, comes from the word “volochit” (drag). Vessels were dragged through the portages by dry means - portages.

Which led the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here sailing along the river became comfortable, since the current was free of rapids.

Carrying out their warlike plans, the French tried to penetrate the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains 4
...the inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains... – The Allegans are mountains in the Appalachian system, the eastern part of the plateau of the same name. Located in what is now the states of Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland and Pennsylvania (USA).

And we noticed the natural advantages of the area we just described. Indeed, it soon turned into a bloody arena of numerous battles, with which the warring parties hoped to resolve the issue regarding the possession of the colonies.

Here, at the most important points, towering above the surrounding routes, fortresses grew; they were taken over by one or the other warring side; they were either torn down or rebuilt again, depending on whose banner was flying over the fortress.

Although this troubled region did not know peaceful crafts, its forests were often enlivened by the presence of man.

Under the canopy of branches and in the valleys the sounds of marches were heard, and the echo in the mountains repeated the laughter and cries of many, many carefree young braves who, in the prime of their strength, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of the long night of oblivion.

It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our story dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, who were fighting for power over a country that neither side was destined to keep in their hands. 5
…over a country that neither side was destined to keep in its hands... - The lands for which the war described in the novel was fought ultimately became neither the property of England nor the property of France. This territory became the property of the United States of America, a state that gained complete independence from England in 1776, during the life of Natty Bumppo, the main character of the novel.

The stupidity of the military leaders abroad and the disastrous inactivity of the advisers at court deprived Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won by the talent and courage of her former soldiers and statesmen. The English forces were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left most of the border unguarded. And after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers arose. In every gust of wind coming from the endless forests, the frightened settlers imagined wild screams and the ominous howl of the Indians.

That is why, when the English fortress, towering in the southern part of the plateau between the Hudson and the lakes, received news of the appearance of the Marquis of Montcalm near Champlain 6
…about the appearance of the Marquis of Montcalm near Champlain... - Louis-Joseph de Montcalm-Gozon, Marquis de Saint-Veran (February 28, 1712, Nîmes, France - September 14, 1759, Quebec), was a French military leader who commanded French troops in North America during the Seven Years' War. In 1756 he was appointed commander of French troops in North America. During the first years of the French and Indian War, he carried out a number of successful military operations against British troops, in particular in 1756 he captured and destroyed Fort Oswego on the banks of the Ontario River, refusing the British an honorable surrender due to the lack of courage shown by the British soldiers. In 1757, he won a major military victory by capturing Fort William Henry at the southern tip of Lake George. In 1758, he completely defeated the British forces, which were five times superior to him, in the battle for Fort Carillon, showing high professionalism and outstanding leadership qualities. At the end of the war he led the defense of Quebec. On September 13, 1759, he was mortally wounded in the unsuccessful Battle of the Plain of Abraham, which ensured the military victory of the British in the war for the North American colonies. To the doctors’ disappointing forecasts he calmly replied: “So much the better. I am happy that I will not see Quebec capitulate." He died on September 14, 1759 in a field hospital on the banks of the St. Charles River near Quebec.

And idle chatterers added that this general was moving with a detachment “in which there are soldiers as thick as leaves in the forest,” the terrible message was received rather with cowardly resignation than with the stern satisfaction that a warrior should feel when he discovers an enemy next to him. The news of Montcalm's attack came in the height of summer; the Indian brought it at an hour when the day was already approaching evening. Along with the terrible news, the messenger conveyed to the camp commander a request from Munro, the commandant of one of the forts on the shores of the Holy Lake, to immediately send him strong reinforcements. The distance between the fort and the fortress, which a forest dweller walked within two hours, could be covered by a military detachment with its convoy between sunrise and sunset. Loyal supporters of the English crown named one of these fortifications Fort William Henry, and the other Fort Edward, named after the princes of the royal family. The veteran Scot Munro commanded Fort William Henry. It contained one of the regular regiments and a small detachment of volunteer colonists; it was a garrison too small to fight Montcalm's advancing forces.

However, frightened by failures, the English generals and their subordinates preferred to wait in their fortress for the approach of a formidable enemy, without risking going out to meet Montcalm in order to surpass the successful performance of the French at Fort Duquesne 7
…successful French performance at Fort Duquesne... - The Battle of Fort Duquesne was a battle fought between allied French and Indian and British forces near Fort Duquesne in North America on September 15, 1758, during the French and Indian War. The battle was the result of unsuccessful reconnaissance by British troops under the command of General John Forbes in the vicinity of the French Fort Duquesne. It ended in victory for the French and Indian side.

Give the enemy battle and stop him.

When the first excitement caused by the terrible news subsided, in the camp, protected by trenches and located on the banks of the Hudson in the form of a chain of fortifications that covered the fort itself, there was a rumor that a selected detachment of one and a half thousand should move from the fortress to Fort William Henry at dawn. This rumor was soon confirmed; We learned that several detachments had received orders to quickly prepare for the campaign. All doubts about Webb's intentions were dispelled, and for two or three hours hurried running and anxious faces were heard in the camp. The recruit anxiously scurried back and forth, fussed and with his excessive zeal only slowed down his preparations for the performance; the experienced veteran armed himself quite calmly, unhurriedly, although the stern features and worried look clearly indicated that the terrible struggle in the forests did not particularly please his heart.

Finally the sun disappeared in a stream of radiance in the west behind the mountains, and when night enveloped this secluded place with its cloak, the noise and bustle of preparations for the campaign fell silent; the last light went out in the officers' log cabins; the thickening shadows of the trees lay on the earthen ramparts and the babbling stream, and in a few minutes the entire camp was plunged into the same silence that reigned in the neighboring dense forests.

According to the order given the previous evening, the deep sleep of the soldiers was disturbed by the deafening roar of drums, the rolling echo of which carried far in the damp morning air, echoing loudly in every corner of the forest; The day was dawning, the cloudless sky was brightening in the east, and the outlines of tall, shaggy pines appeared on it more and more clearly and sharply. A minute later, life began to boil in the camp: even the most careless soldier rose to his feet to see the performance of the detachment and, together with his comrades, to experience the excitement of that moment. The simple training of the marching detachment soon ended. The soldiers lined up in combat units. Royal mercenaries 8
Royal mercenaries... – European, in particular German, Hessian, mercenaries took part in the Seven Years’ War on the side of the British.

They showed off on the right flank; more modest volunteers, from among the settlers, obediently took places on the left.

The scouts came out. A strong convoy accompanied the carts with camping equipment; and, before the first rays of the sun pierced the gray morning, the column set off. Leaving the camp, the column had a menacing, warlike appearance; this appearance was supposed to drown out the vague fears of many recruits who had to withstand the first tests in battle. The soldiers walked past their admiring comrades with a proud and courageous expression on their faces. But gradually the sounds of military music began to fade in the distance and finally froze completely. The forest closed in, hiding the squad from view.

Now the wind did not carry even the loudest, piercing sounds to those remaining in the camp; the last warrior disappeared into the forest thicket.

However, judging by what was happening in front of the largest and most comfortable of the officers' barracks, someone else was preparing to set off. In front of Webb's house stood several beautifully saddled horses; two of them were apparently intended for women of high rank, who were not often found in these forests. The third had officer pistols in the saddle 9
…officer pistols. – British officers purchased pistols for military operations at their own expense. During the French and Indian War, pistols with a flintlock type were used. These pistols were single-shot, after each shot it was necessary to add gunpowder to the shelf. The most famous pistol maker in England at this time was William Brander.

The rest of the horses, judging by the simplicity of the bridles and saddles and the packs tied to them, belonged to the lower ranks. Indeed, the rank and file, completely ready to leave, were obviously only waiting for the commander’s order to jump into their saddles. Groups of idle spectators stood at a respectful distance; Some of them admired the pure breed of the officer's horse, others watched with dull curiosity the preparations for departure.

However, among the spectators there was one person whose manners and posture set him apart from the rest. His figure was not ugly, but at the same time it seemed extremely awkward. When this man stood, he was taller than other people; but when sitting, he seemed no larger than his brothers. His head was too large, his shoulders too narrow, his arms long and clumsy, with small, graceful hands. The thinness of his unusually long legs reached the extreme; the knees were prohibitively thick. The strange, even absurd costume of the eccentric emphasized the awkwardness of his figure. The low collar of his sky-blue camisole did not cover his long, thin neck at all; the short skirts of his caftan allowed mockers to make fun of his thin legs. Yellow narrow nankeen trousers reached to the knees; here they were intercepted by large white bows, frayed and dirty. Gray stockings and boots completed the costume of the clumsy eccentric. On one of his shoes there was a spur made of false silver. From the voluminous pocket of the vest, heavily soiled and decorated with blackened silver braid, peeked out an unknown instrument, which, among this military environment, could be mistaken for some mysterious and incomprehensible weapon of war. A tall triangular hat, like those worn by pastors thirty years ago, crowned the head of the eccentric and gave a respectable appearance to the good-natured features of this man.

CHAPTER 1

I'm ready to find out the worst
And the terrible thing you could bring to me,
Ready to hear the painful news
Answer quickly - has the kingdom perished?!
Shakespeare

Perhaps, along the entire vast stretch of the border that separated the possessions of the French from the territory of the English colonies of North America, there are no more eloquent monuments to the cruel and ferocious wars of 1755-1763 than in the area lying at the source of the Hudson and near the lakes adjacent to them. This area provided such convenience for the movement of troops that they could not be neglected.
The water surface of Champlain stretched from Canada and jutted deep into the colony of New York; as a result, Lake Champlain served as the most convenient route of communication, along which the French could sail up to half the distance separating them from the enemy.
Near the southern edge of Lake Champlain, the crystal clear waters of Lake Horiken - the Holy Lake - merge with it.
The Holy Lake meanders between countless islets and is surrounded by low coastal mountains. It stretches in curves far to the south, where it abuts the plateau. From this point began a multi-mile portage that led the traveler to the banks of the Hudson; here sailing along the river became comfortable, since the current was free of rapids.
In carrying out their warlike plans, the French tried to penetrate the most remote and inaccessible gorges of the Allegheny Mountains and drew attention to the natural advantages of the region we have just described. Indeed, it soon turned into a bloody arena of numerous battles, with which the warring parties hoped to resolve the issue regarding the possession of the colonies.
Here, in the most important places, towering above the surrounding routes, fortresses grew; they were taken over by one or the other warring side; they were either torn down or rebuilt again, depending on whose banner was flying over the fortress.
While peaceful farmers tried to stay away from dangerous mountain gorges, hiding in ancient settlements, numerous military forces delved into virgin forests. Few returned from there, exhausted by hardships and hardships, discouraged by failures.
Although this troubled region did not know peaceful crafts, its forests were often enlivened by the presence of man.
Under the canopy of branches and in the valleys the sounds of marches were heard, and the echo in the mountains repeated the laughter and cries of many, many carefree young braves who, in the prime of their strength, hastened here to plunge into the deep sleep of the long night of oblivion.
It was in this arena of bloody wars that the events that we will try to tell about unfolded. Our story dates back to the third year of the war between France and England, who were fighting for power over a country that neither side was destined to keep in their hands.
The stupidity of military leaders abroad and the disastrous inactivity of advisers at court deprived Great Britain of that proud prestige which had been won for her by the talent and courage of her former soldiers and statesmen. The English forces were defeated by a handful of French and Indians; this unexpected defeat left most of the border unguarded. And after real disasters, many imaginary, imaginary dangers arose. In every gust of wind coming from the endless forests, the frightened settlers imagined wild screams and the ominous howl of the Indians.

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