The Last of the Mohicans

  “I can answer that,” said Alice. She had been listening. “I sent my father a letter. I begged him to let us join him. We missed him so very much.”

  “He never can say no to Alice,” Cora added. “I should have, though. Since our mother’s death I have been both sister and mother to her. But I, too, longed to see Father again.”

  Natty shrugged. “With luck, you will. But after that—who knows?”

  For a moment, there was silence.

  Then a hideous sound came from the night outside.

  Natty leaped to his feet. He went to the cave entrance. Heyward followed.

  The sound came again.

  Natty was puzzled. “I thought I knew all the forest sounds. But not this one.”

  Chingachgook and Uncas shook their heads.

  “I know what it is,” Heyward said grimly. “I have heard it on battlefields. It is a horse in agony.”

  Natty’s mouth tightened. “Wolves have found the horses.”

  Alice gasped—and began to cry.

  “No time for tears,” said Natty. “Try to get a little sleep. The Hurons have sharp ears. They will know where to hunt. We must be out of here by dawn.”

  “Why not leave now?” asked Cora.

  “You need rest,” said Natty. “We have to travel long and fast on foot tomorrow.”

  “Natty is right, Cora,” said Heyward. “Alice is not as strong as you.”

  “I must admit I am tired,” Alice said.

  “You need rest as well, Major,” Natty said. “The Mohicans and I will stand guard tonight.”

  Heyward started to argue. But he could not deny that his eyelids were heavy. He decided to close them for a moment.

  It seemed a moment later that he was shaken awake.

  “It’s dawn,” Natty said. “So far the Hurons haven’t shown themselves.”

  The east was brightening as they left the cave. The fading moon hung low.

  Natty had Heyward and the women wait on the stone ledge. The Mohicans went to scout the nearby woods. Natty went to fetch supplies from the canoe. Above all, he wanted the extra gunpowder in it. He feared he might need it before the day was over.

  Heyward saw Alice trembling. He tried to reassure her. “All we need is a little luck and we’ll be—”

  He didn’t finish the sentence. War whoops and rifle shots ended it.

  Chapter 5

  Chingachgook and Uncas burst from the woods. They started running over the rocks behind the falls. It was the only way to reach the ledge in front of the cave.

  Behind them Hurons appeared. One aimed a rifle at Chingachgook’s back. Another rifle fired first. The Huron fell face forward into the water.

  Heyward saw Natty standing on the other riverbank. His long rifle was hunting other targets. But the Hurons had retreated.

  Soon Natty and the Mohicans had rejoined Heyward and the women.

  “Superb shooting,” Heyward said to Natty. “You’ve driven them away.”

  “Thanks to my deerslayer,” Natty said. He patted his long rifle fondly. Then his face darkened. “The Hurons will be back—in force. We’ve drawn blood. They’ll hunger for revenge.”

  “Then they will fall before your rifle,” Cora said. She looked at Natty with admiration.

  Natty shook his head glumly. Then he shook his powder horn. “Not much powder left,” he said. “I didn’t get to the canoe. The Huron attack came too fast.”

  Heyward looked downstream. His mouth dropped open. “Look,” he exclaimed. “There’s the canoe now.”

  The canoe was moving upstream toward them. Yet there was no one paddling it.

  Natty saw what Heyward had not. He raised his rifle again. His shot ripped through the canoe. There was a cry of pain. Heyward saw naked Hurons swimming desperately away. They had been pushing the canoe ahead of them for cover.

  Natty watched the canoe drift away. “There goes the gunpowder. Come on. Follow me.”

  He climbed the rocks between the two parts of the falls. The others followed. Heyward was the last to get to the top. He stayed behind Cora and Alice. He wanted to be sure they made it.

  Heyward could now see why the waterfall was divided. On the top was a tree-covered island.

  A shot rang out. It seemed to come from nowhere. They all dived for cover.

  Crouched behind a tree, Natty spied the spent bullet. Instantly his eyes scanned the treetops. A moment later his long rifle fired. A Huron dropped like ripe fruit from a high branch.

  Natty answered the question in Heyward’s eyes. “I saw how the Huron bullet was flattened. It had to have come from above.”

  That was all he got to say. Four Huron warriors broke through the underbrush. Natty, the Mohicans, and Heyward met them.

  Heyward thrust his sword at a huge Huron. But the Indian dodged. The sword snapped like a twig against a tree. Just in time Heyward grabbed the Indian’s knife hand by the wrist. He bent the wrist back. The knife dropped to the ground. Heyward and the Huron grappled at the top of the falls. It was a test of pure strength.

  Inch by inch Heyward was forced backward. In a moment he would go plunging to his death.

  Suddenly the Huron loosened his grip. Blood spurted from his wrist. Uncas had come racing to Heyward’s aid. The knife of Running Deer had saved Heyward’s life. Heyward gave a desperate push. The Huron went screaming over the edge.

  Heyward looked around. The other Hurons all lay dead.

  “More will be here any minute,” Natty said. “Quick. Back to the cave.”

  Inside the cave Heyward said, “We can hold them off here. It will be easy to defend the entrance.”

  Natty grimaced. “With what?” He shook his powder horn. It was empty.

  Then Cora spoke. “Please, Mr. Bumppo, you and your Indian friends save yourselves. It is not fair that you risk your lives for ours.”

  Natty’s face clouded. He spoke in Mohican to his friends. Then he turned back to Cora. “You’re right. We stand a chance of escaping downriver.”

  Heyward’s heart sank. But he was not surprised. He could not expect more from this hunter and the Mohicans. They were little more than savages. Naturally they would want to save their own skins.

  Then Natty went on. “With powder, I’d stay and fight. But there is only one way to save you. I must reach your father’s fort and return with soldiers.”

  “Of course,” Cora said. “I am sure we can hide here safely until then. Duncan, perhaps you should go too.”

  “Never,” Heyward said firmly.

  “I knew you wouldn’t,” Alice said, touching his arm.

  “You would only slow us down anyway,” Natty said bluntly. “But enough talking. Time is short.”

  Natty and Chingachgook began to move out of the cave. But Uncas stayed where he was. He looked at Cora. Cora met his intent gaze.

  “I will stay here,” Uncas declared. He was speaking directly to Cora.

  Cora answered him just as directly. “Please go. Please. I will not have you risk your life for nothing.”

  “She is right,” Chingachgook told his son. “You cannot save her by staying here. We must bring back English soldiers. And three of us have a better chance to do that than two.”

  Natty laid his hand on Uncas’s shoulder. “Your father is right.”

  “Listen to him,” Cora pleaded.

  Finally Uncas said, “I will go then. But I will return, I promise you.”

  “I know you will,” Cora said, still looking into his eyes.

  Uncas broke off his gaze. He followed the others out of the cave.

  Heyward and the women were left there alone. Terribly, fearfully alone.

  Chapter 6

  Heyward went to the entrance. He looked out. The sky was blue. The July day was bright and hot. Natty and the Mohicans were already out of sight.

  Heyward returned to Cora and Alice.

  “We can only wait,” he said.

  “And trust,” said Cora.

  “And pray,” said Alice. r />
  Suddenly they stiffened.

  From outside came voices. Indian voices. But Heyward heard a few French words. Words that the French had taught the Indians. La Longue Carabine. Le Gros Serpent. Le Cerf Agile.

  Heyward knew French well. He understood the words. The Long Rifle. The Great Serpent. The Swift Deer.

  The Hurons knew whom they were after. They sounded eager for the kill.

  “Quick! We must hide fast,” Heyward whispered to Cora and Alice.

  He led them behind the brushwood that divided the cave. He left only a small gap as a spy hole.

  A Huron entered the cave cautiously. He saw no danger. He gave a birdlike whistle. Hurons poured into the cave.

  Some were nearly naked. Others wore ragged French uniforms. Some carried rifles. Others carried bows and arrows. All had knives and tomahawks in their belts. All had war paint on their faces.

  One came close to the spy hole. Heyward held his breath. He let it out slowly as the Huron turned away. The other Indians were leaving. They had found nothing.

  Heyward remembered the second way out of the cave. It was an open hole in the rear. He should stuff it up. No Huron would spot it then.

  Heyward signaled to Cora and Alice. They must stay still. He picked up brushwood. He headed for the hole. Bright sunlight shone through it.

  Suddenly that light was blotted out. A face appeared. A face lit by fiendish joy. Magua’s face!

  The traitor’s face sparked Heyward’s rage. He acted without thinking. He dropped the brushwood and whipped out his pistol. He fired—too late.

  Magua ducked to safety. Even worse, the shot brought the other Hurons running back. This time the brushwood did not fool them.

  Heyward’s hand tightened on his pistol. Then he stopped himself. He might drop a Huron or two. But others would take revenge on Cora and Alice.

  He dropped his weapon and raised his hands. He was herded out of the cave with the women. With them he waited to learn their fate.

  A moment later Magua arrived. He walked with a swagger. It was clear he was the Hurons’ leader.

  He barked a command. The Hurons took Heyward and the women over the rocks into the forest. They moved through the tall pines to a clearing. There Magua halted them. He gave orders. The Hurons gathered vines. They tied Cora, Alice, and Heyward to trees, side by side.

  Meanwhile, Heyward had been thinking. There was still hope. They had not been killed on the spot. Maybe Magua was not looking for scalps. Maybe he was looking for ransom.

  “You have been most brave, Magua,” Heyward began.

  “You can call me by my French name,” said Magua. “Le Renard Subtil. The Cunning Fox.”

  Heyward kept up his flattery. “You are brave and clever. You kept the Hurons from killing us. Take us now to the fort. Colonel Munro will give you gold for saving his daughters.”

  Magua smiled like a wolf. “You think I want gold? That is for white men. They think all things can be bought and sold.”

  “Medals, too,” Heyward promised. “And guns. Powder. Bullets.”

  “The French give me all I want,” said Magua.

  Heyward made a last try. Perhaps Magua had a thirst for whiskey. Some Indians had that weakness.

  “The colonel will give you what the French will not,” Heyward said. “Firewater. As much as you and your men want.”

  Magua laughed. A chilling laugh.

  “Long ago white men gave me firewater,” Magua said. “I was a young warrior. Firewater turned me into a baby. My tribe made me leave. It was then that I came to the Mohawks. But I had not escaped the white man’s curse. Again I drank. Again I was punished. But not by Indians. This time by an English officer. He did not want Indians to drink. He made an example of me.”

  Suddenly Magua turned to Cora. “You know the officer. You know what he did to me. You were there. You saw it. I remember it. Do you?”

  Cora turned pale. “I … I think so.”

  “I know so,” said Magua fiercely. “You were Colonel Munro’s little girl. You saw his men whip me like a dog.”

  Magua turned to Heyward. “Long have I dreamed of revenge. Now I will have it.”

  “You cannot kill her for something that happened so long ago,” Heyward pleaded.

  “Kill her?” said Magua. His chuckle was hideous. “That is not what I want. The colonel would grieve—and slowly forget. No. I will have his daughter as my wife. My willing wife. So her father can feel the pain his whole life long.”

  “I would rather die,” said Cora. Her eyes blazed with defiance.

  “And have your sister die?” Magua asked. “And your major? If you wed me, I will spare them.”

  Cora wilted. She bowed her head.

  Alice spoke out. Her voice quavered. “Cora, don’t do it. I would rather die than owe my life to that.”

  “Alice speaks for me as well,” Heyward said.

  “You have your answer,” Cora declared.

  “Then see your sister die!” Magua screamed, and flung his tomahawk at Alice.

  It struck the tree above her head and sliced strands of her golden hair. A huge Huron stepped forward with a knife. He raised it to Alice’s throat.

  Rage filled Heyward. He snapped the vines that bound him. He charged.

  The Huron met Heyward’s charge. He wrestled Heyward to the ground. His knees were on Heyward’s chest. He raised his knife to plunge it down. Heyward looked up at death.

  Chapter 7

  Heyward struggled to escape. It was no use. The Huron was too big, too strong. The Huron smiled. His knife flashed.

  There was a shot. Then a whizzing sound. The Huron’s mouth fell open. Blood spread across his chest. He dropped his knife. He collapsed.

  Heyward squirmed out from under him. He saw Natty racing into the clearing. With him were the Mohicans.

  “La Longue Carabine!” a Huron screamed.

  “Le Gros Serpent! Le Cerf Agile!” shouted others.

  “Kill them!” Magua roared.

  There was no time to pick up rifles. No time to load and prime them. It was a battle of knives, tomahawks, and bare hands.

  Heyward grabbed the tomahawk in the tree above Alice’s head and joined in.

  Uncas had already killed one Huron with his tomahawk. That evened the odds. Four against four.

  Heyward threw his tomahawk at a charging Huron. It glanced off his head. He kept coming. He wrapped giant arms around Heyward in a death hug.

  Natty slammed his long rifle against the Huron’s head. The Huron went limp.

  Meanwhile, Cora had broken loose. She was trying to free Alice when a Huron seized her. The Huron held Cora’s hair in one hand. He bent her neck back. His knife was at her throat.

  The sight made Uncas leap like lightning. He slammed into the Huron. They rolled in the dirt. Uncas stood up alone. His knife was in the Huron’s heart.

  That left only two men fighting—Chingachgook and Magua.

  They wrestled amid the dirt and fallen leaves. They twisted and turned. They used all their great strength. They used all their vast skill. Neither of them could get the upper hand.

  Then suddenly Chingachgook had his knife free. He slashed Magua with it. Magua fell back. He lay like a corpse.

  Chingachgook looked grimly down at him.

  “Finish him,” Natty urged.

  “But—” Heyward started to protest. This went against his idea of fair play.

  “Here you must kill your enemy,” Natty said. “Or he will live to kill you.”

  Chingachgook raised his knife. But in a flash Magua was on his feet. He raced into the forest.

  “Playing possum.” Natty grimaced. “He’s a cunning fox indeed.”

  Chingachgook shrugged. “He’s not worth chasing. He has no weapon. He has no help nearby. He cannot hurt us.” Chingachgook smiled. “I will have my chance to finish him another time. I can be sure of that.”

  “Why does he want to kill you so much?” wondered Heyward. “And your son. And Natty, too
. He was furious not to catch you in the cave.”

  Chingachgook merely sneered. It was Natty who explained.

  “Long ago, the Mohicans defeated the Hurons in war,” Natty said. “They won the Hurons’ land. Hurons do not forget or forgive. Magua wants the scalps of the last Mohicans. The scalps would make him a Huron hero. They would wipe away the stain of drink on his name. His dream could come true. He could become chief of the Hurons.”

  “And what does he want with you?” Heyward asked.

  Uncas answered for Natty. “Hawkeye’s scalp alone would make Magua a hero. Hurons speak of the Long Rifle in whispers.”

  “I can see why,” Heyward said. “Your shot saved my life.”

  “Lucky I still had just enough powder for the shot,” Natty said. “And lucky we spied the Hurons coming after you. But enough talk. Fort William Henry is a long journey. And who knows what we will find there.”

  Chapter 8

  What they found was trouble.

  The first thing Colonel Munro told his daughters was, “Thank the Lord you’ve reached here alive.”

  Then he said, “I wish to heaven you had not come.

  “We are trapped here,” the colonel went on to explain. “The French and their Indians surround us on three sides. The other side is the lake. It is a miracle you managed to get here.”

  “It was no miracle,” said Cora. “It was Mr. Bumppo and his Indian friends. They know every secret trail in the forest.”

  “And Duncan used his perfect French to trick French soldiers,” Alice added.

  “If only you could get out of here that easily,” Munro said. “Our time is running out.”

  “We can hold off the French,” Heyward declared. “This fort is strong. Our soldiers are brave.”

  Munro shook his head. “The French have cannons. They are smashing down our walls. Meanwhile they are digging trenches. Every day those trenches come closer. Soon they will be able to attack from them. They have many more men than we. Too many to resist.”

  “General Webb has fresh troops from England,” said Heyward. “And he’s an easy march from here.”

  “He doesn’t know we need them,” Munro said. “I’ve sent messengers. None made it through French lines.”